总目录

基督徒与罗马之陷落

空袭中的沉思

炫耀性消费

女权辩护

道德经

实现卓越

一个英国瘾君子的自白

文明与缺憾

马可·波罗游记

美国边疆论

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

基督徒与罗马之陷落

（英汉双语）

［英］爱德华·吉本　著

刘　怡　译

中 国 出 版 集 团 公 司

中国对外翻译出版有限公司

图书在版编目（CIP）数据

基督徒与罗马之陷落：英汉双语/（英）吉本（Gibbon, E.）著；刘怡译．—北京：中国对外翻译出版有限公司，2011.12

（企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想）

ISBN 978-7-5001-3317-9

Ⅰ．①基…　Ⅱ．①吉…　②刘…　Ⅲ．①英语—汉语—对照读物　②罗马帝国—历史　Ⅳ．①H319.4:K

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2011）第247441号

（著作权合同登记：图字01-2012-1437号）

www.penguin.com

The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, first published 1776

This edition first published by Allen Lane 1994

This extract first published in Penguin Books 2004

copyright © David Womersley, 1994

All rights reserved

Taken from the Penguin Classics edition of

The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Volume 1,

edited by David Womersley

The moral right of the editor has been asserted

Set in Monotype Dante

Typeset by Rowland Phototypesetting Ltd, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk

出版发行／中国对外翻译出版有限公司

地　　址／北京市西城区车公庄大街甲4号物华大厦6层

电　　话／（010）68359376　68359303　68359719

邮　　编／100044　　　　　　　　传　真／（010）68357870

电子邮箱／book@ctpc.com.cn

网　　址／http://www.ctpc.com.cn

出版策划／张高里　　　　　　　　责任编辑／梁　斐

封面设计／奇文堂·潘峰　　　　　排　　版／竹叶图文

印　　刷／保定市中画美凯印刷有限公司

规　　格／760×940毫米　1/32　　印　　张／7.25

版　　次／2012年3月第一版　　　印　　次／2012年3月第一次

ISBN 978–7–5001–3317–9　定价：16.00元

“企鹅”及相关标识是企鹅图书有限公司已经注册或尚未注册的商标。

未经允许，不得擅用。

中国对外翻译出版有限公司与企鹅图书有限公司联合出版

观　念

——《伟大的思想》代序

梁文道

每隔一段时间，媒体就喜欢评选一次“影响世界的X个人”或者“改变历史的X项发明”。然而，在我看来，几乎所有人类史上最重大的变革，首先都是一种观念的变革。

我们今天之所以会关注气候的暖化与生物多样性的保存，是因为我们看待地球的方式变了，我们比以前更加意识到人在自然中的位置，也更加了解自然其实是一个动态的系统。放弃了人类可以主宰地球的世界观，这就意味着我们接受了一个观念的变化。同样地，我们不再相信男人一出生就该主宰女人，甚至也不再认为男女之别是不可动摇的本质区分；这也是观念的变化。如果说环保运动和女权运动有任何影响的话，那些影响一定就是从大脑开始的。也不要只看好事，20世纪最惨绝人寰的浩劫最初也只不过是一些小小的观念，危险的观念。比如说一位德国人，他相信人类的进化必以“次等种族”的灭绝为代价……

这套丛书不叫“伟大的巨著”，是因为它们体积都不大，而且还有不少是抽取自某些名著的章节。可它们却全是伟大的观念，例如达尔文论天择，潘恩论常识，它们共同构成了人类的观念地图。从头看它们一遍，就是检视文明所走过的道路，从深处理解我们今天变成这个样子的原因。

也许你会发现其中有些陌生的名字，或者看起来没有那么“伟大”的篇章（譬如普鲁斯特追忆他的阅读时光），但你千万不要小看它们。因为真正重要、真正能够产生启蒙效果的观念往往具有跨界移动的能力，它会跨越时空，离开它原属的领域，在另一个世界产生意外的效果。就像马可·波罗在监狱里述说的异国图景，当时有谁料得到那些荒诞的故事会诱发出哥伦布的旅程呢？我也无法猜测，这套小书的读者里头会不会有下一个哥伦布，他将带着令人惊奇的观念航向自己的大海。

《伟大的思想》中文版序

企鹅《伟大的思想》丛书2004年开始出版。在英国，已付印80种，尚有20种计划出版。美国出版的丛书规模略小，德国的同类丛书规模更小一些。丛书销量已远远超过200万册，在全球很多人中间，尤其是学生当中，普及了哲学和政治学。中文版《伟大的思想》丛书的推出，迈出了新的一步，令人欢欣鼓舞。

推出这套丛书的目的是让读者再次与一些伟大的非小说类经典著作面对面地交流。太长时间以来，确定版本依据这样一个假设——读者在教室里学习这些著作，因此需要导读、详尽的注释、参考书目等。此类版本无疑非常有用，但我想，如果能够重建托马斯·潘恩《常识》或约翰·罗斯金《艺术与人生》初版时的环境，重新营造更具亲和力的氛围，那也是一件有意思的事。当时，读者除了原作者及其自身的理性思考外没有其他参照。

这样做有一定的缺点：每个作者的话难免有难解或不可解之处，一些重要的背景知识会缺失。例如，读者对亨利·梭罗创作时的情况毫无头绪，也不了解该书的接受情况及影响。不过，这样做的优点也很明显。最突出的优点是，作者的初衷又一次变得重要起来——托马斯·潘恩的愤怒、查尔斯·达尔文的灵光、塞内加的隐逸。这些作家在那么多国家影响了那么多人的生活，其影响不可估量，有的长达几个世纪，读他们书的乐趣罕有匹敌。没有亚当·斯密或阿图尔·叔本华，难以想象我们今天的世界。这些小书的创作年代已很久远，但其中的话已彻底改变了我们的政治学、经济学、智力生活、社会规划和宗教信仰。

《伟大的思想》丛书一直求新求变。地区不同，收录的作家也不同。在中国或美国，一些作家更受欢迎。英国《伟大的思想》收录的一些作家在其他地方则默默无闻。称其为“伟大的思想”，我们亦慎之又慎。思想之伟大，在于其影响之深远，而不意味着这些思想是“好”的，实际上一些书可列入“坏”思想之列。丛书中很多作家受到同一丛书其他作家的很大影响，例如，马塞尔·普鲁斯特承认受约翰·罗斯金影响很大，米歇尔·德·蒙田也承认深受塞内加影响，但其他作家彼此憎恨，如果发现他们被收入同一丛书，一定会气愤难平。不过，读者可自行决定这些思想是否合理。我们衷心希望，您能在阅读这些杰作中得到乐趣。

《伟大的思想》出版者

西蒙·温德尔

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

Penguin's Great Ideas series began publication in 2004. In the UK we now have 80 copies in print with plans to publish a further 20. A somewhat smaller list is published in the USA and a related, even smaller series in Germany. The books have sold now well over two million copies and have popularized philosophy and politics for many people around the world — particularly students. The launch of a Chinese Great Ideas series is an extremely exciting new development.

The intention behind the series was to allow readers to be once more face to face with some of the great nonfiction classics. For too long the editions of these books were created on the assumption that you were studying them in the classroom and that the student needed an introduction, extensive notes, a bibliography and so on. While this sort of edition is of course extremely useful, I thought it would be interesting to recreate a more intimate feeling — to recreate the atmosphere in which, for example, Thomas Paine's Common Sense or John Ruskin's On Art and Life was first published — where the reader has no other guide than the original author and his or her own common sense.

This method has its severe disadvantages — there will inevitably be statements made by each author which are either hard or impossible to understand, some important context might be missing. For example the reader has no clue as to the conditions under which Henry Thoreau was writing his book and the reader cannot be aware of the book's reception or influence. The advantages however are very clear — most importantly the original intentions of the author become once more important. The sense of anger in Thomas Paine, of intellectual excitement in Charles Darwin, of resignation in Seneca — few things can be more thrilling than to read writers who have had such immeasurable influence on so many lives, sometimes for centuries, in many different countries. Our world would not make sense without Adam Smith or Arthur Schopenhauer — our politics, economics, intellectual lives, social planning, religious beliefs have all been fundamentally changed by the words in these little books, first written down long ago.

The Great Ideas series continues to change and evolve. In different parts of the world different writers would be included. In China or in the United States there are some writers who are liked much more than others. In the UK there are writers in the Great Ideas series who are ignored elsewhere. We have also been very careful to call the series Great Ideas — these ideas are great because they have been so enormously influential, but this does not mean that they are Good Ideas — indeed some of the books would probably qualify as Bad Ideas. Many of the writers in the series have been massively influenced by others in the series — for example Marcel Proust owned so much to John Ruskin, Michel de Montaigne to Seneca. But others hated each other and would be distressed to find themselves together in the same series! But readers can decide the validity of these ideas for themselves. We very much hope that you enjoy these remarkable books.

Simon Winder

Publisher

Great Ideas

目录

观　念——《伟大的思想》代序

《伟大的思想》中文版序

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

导　读

说　明

基督徒之发达与原初基督徒之情操、风尚、数量及情势

探究之重要性

探究之困难

基督教发达之五项原因

原因之一：犹太人之热忱

〔热忱之渐趋增长〕

〔其宗教之适于自存胜乎外征〕

〔基督教更开明之热忱〕

〔犹太化基督徒之顽固与其缘由〕

〔耶路撒冷之拿撒勒人教会〕

〔伊便尼派〕

〔灵知派〕

〔彼之宗派、发展及影响〕

〔魔鬼被视作古之神祇〕

〔基督徒之恶崇拜偶像〕

〔仪典〕

〔技艺〕

〔节庆〕

〔为教而狂〕

原因之二：众哲人关于灵魂不灭之学说

〔希腊与罗马异教徒之见〕

〔化外人之见〕

〔犹太人之见〕

〔基督徒之见〕

〔世界末日将临〕

〔千禧年之学说〕

〔罗马与此世之被大火〕

〔异教徒当受永世之惩罚〕

〔时有因恐惧而改宗〕

原因之三：原初教会之超凡法力

〔其真实性之争论〕

〔界定奇迹时代尚存困惑〕

〔原初奇迹之施行〕

原因之四：首批基督徒之德性

〔彼等忏悔之效用〕

〔爱惜名誉〕

〔教父之德操〕

〔人性诸原理〕

〔原初基督徒谴责享乐与奢侈〕

〔彼等于婚姻及贞洁问题之见地〕

〔彼等厌恶战争及政治事务〕

原因之五：教会治理中活跃之基督徒

〔教会原初之自由与平等〕

〔作为长老会议主席底主教之设置〕

〔行省会议〕

〔教会之联合〕

〔主教权力之发达〕

〔大都教会之显赫〕

〔罗马教宗之野心〕

〔平信徒与圣职者〕

〔教会之捐献与岁入〕

〔岁入之分配〕

〔革出教门〕

〔公开忏悔〕

〔主教统治之威严〕

〔五原因之再提要〕

〔多神教之软弱〕

〔异教世界之怀疑论有利于此新宗教〕

〔罗马帝国之和平与统一〕

〔基督教发达之历史考察〕

〔在东方〕

〔安提阿教会〕

〔在埃及〕

〔在罗马〕

〔在阿非利加及西部诸省〕

〔在罗马帝国疆域之外〕

〔基督徒与异教徒之近似比例〕

〔最初之基督徒是否卑下无知〕

〔一类例外：学识方面〕

〔一类例外：阶级与财富方面〕

〔基督教最易为贫民及无知者接受〕

〔其为1世纪与2世纪若干卓越人士所反对〕

〔彼等无视预言〕

〔彼等无视奇迹〕

〔对基督殉难之际之晦暗默然不语〕

The Progress of the Christian Religion, and the Sentiments, Manners, Numbers, and Condition, of the Primitive Christians

返回总目录

导　读

吉本之写作《罗马帝国衰亡史》，有一个富于浪漫色彩的缘起：“其时为1764年10月15日，余身居罗马，枯坐幽思于卡庇托林废墟之间，俄而闻赤足之托钵僧齐唱晚祷歌词，声盈于昔时朱庇特之神庙。由是，余始欲作一家之言，遍述其城衰落与灭亡之事。”（《吉本自传》）

卡庇托林山丘（Capitoline Hill）本是罗马这“七山之城”的中心，前5世纪共和国建立时，卫城与供奉主神朱庇特的神庙即在山巅。至5世纪末，西罗马帝国为蛮族所灭，卡庇托林山巅的神庙也毁于战火。到吉本参拜其废墟时，昔时神庙的旧址已经为13世纪兴建的圣玛利亚·阿拉科利天主教堂取代；而天主教托钵僧（修道士）的歌声，依吉本本人所书，已然“为欧罗巴诸民族——人类中于艺术、学术及武力最杰出者——所信奉”了。虽说照乔治·伯纳尔、休·特雷弗罗珀这班现代史家的考证，所谓“卡庇托林幽思”（Capitoline Vision）只是吉本出于审美趣味的杜撰，但夫子一而再、再而三地强调“修士之声盈于异教之庙”这幅奇景带来的冲击感，恰恰暗示了早在《罗马帝国衰亡史》立意之先，“基督教的胜利”与“卡庇托林的衰败”两幅画面及其内里的联系，便成为他着意关注的中心。

同样，优雅隽永的“卡庇托林幽思”，也不足以概括吉本与基督教错综复杂、关系万千的人生亲证。他本是英格兰萨里郡望族老爱德华·吉本之孙，祖父曾为奥兰治亲王威廉（1688年“光荣革命”后成为英王威廉三世）经营军需，后改事航运业，几经起落终成一位富豪；祖母出身阿克顿家族，后代中即有名满天下的大史家阿克顿勋爵。而吉本之父爱德华·吉本二世曾就读剑桥大学伊曼纽尔学院，1734年作为托利党议员进入下院，属于典型的英伦缙绅（EnglishGentleman）。不过本书作者爱德华·吉本三世于1737年4月27日出生之后，却因体弱多病，“为家慈所略疏，为保姆所瘐弊”。他有弟妹七人，均在幼年夭折；十岁之龄，母亲又因病去世，所幸姨母凯瑟琳·波滕（Catherine Porten）对他关爱有加，使吉本在她开办食堂的威斯敏斯特学校接受中等教育，小爱德华才未因疾病和孤独一蹶不振。其时，吉本已广泛涉猎拉丁文、希腊文及古典文史著作，但尚未经历专业的学习；加之健康依然不佳，学业时断时续，使他逐步养成了独立思考、敢于质疑的习惯。终有生之年，吉本也未形成学院派史家刻板的文风与严谨的思维习惯，自是与此相关，却不意与启蒙的时代精神暗合。

到十五岁之年，吉本之父将他送入牛津大学莫德林学院就读，吉本本人称之为“最是虚度、获益最少”（most idleand unprofitable）的十四个月。其时正值自然神论者米德尔顿（Conyers Middleton）的名作《对超凡力量的自由研究》在坊间引发热议，牛津大学既为英国国教会（圣公会）统御之大学，自然卷入此论战；而吉本先是不喜校园中的沉闷气氛与周遭师生的言行，在论战中又阅读了天主教神学家的著作，加上受崇信神秘主义的姨母影响，竟于1753年6月8日皈依了罗马天主教。数周之内，其父即对此大发雷霆，牛津校方亦不能容忍学生擅自改宗，是以吉本只能结束十四个月的大学生涯，离校了事。日后他对这段经历时有调侃，即在《罗马帝国衰亡史》第十五章的自注中，亦暗讽曰：“牛津大学曾向非国教徒授予学位。我们从莫斯海姆的愤慨便可想见路德派神学家对此的态度。”

退学之后，吉本经其父安排前往瑞士洛桑，由加尔文派教士帕维亚尔（Daniel Pavillard）施以监护教育。这位头颅硕大的学生天分极高而又至为顽固，帕维亚尔为其制订了详尽的学习计划；在父亲剥夺继承权的威胁下，吉本又于1754年冬重新皈依基督教。此后到1758年为止，他主要在帕维亚尔指导下攻读史学、诗学、演讲术与哲学，尤以拉丁文经典为要，同时杂识希腊文著作，格劳秀斯、普芬道夫之国际法著作与法国启蒙思想家如孟德斯鸠、卢梭、伏尔泰等人之专著。1757年伏尔泰居停于洛桑帕维亚尔宅临近，少年吉本即登门拜访，据云相谈甚欢。自洛桑返国后第三年（1761年），他用法文写成《论文学研究》一书，在本国反响寥寥，却引起欧陆读者的关注，由是崭露头角。

吉本在青年时代所过的是典型的英伦绅士生活：生计无忧，专好游历交际，欢喜富于乡野情趣的宴饮捕猎。他终生未娶，但私生活浪漫，声色犬马无一不通。七年战争期间，曾加入南汉普郡义勇军，有过军旅生涯和担任公职的经历。不过到这时为止，他的学术兴趣依旧相当分散，既曾设想写一部沃尔特·雷利爵士的传记或《美第奇家族治下之佛罗伦萨史》，又曾半心半意地用法文写过一卷《瑞士解放史》。直到1763年，在父亲的资助下，吉本重返欧陆，先往巴黎、后去洛桑，随之于1764年春天开始被他称为“大环游”（Grand Tour，这是当时英国缙绅之家习见的资遣子女前往欧陆环游的远途游学）的游历欧洲之旅。其后一年多时间里，他漫游了意大利全境，在罗马徜徉尤久，初次萌生撰写罗马衰亡史的念想。当他于1765年6月提前回国时，“卡庇托林幽思”的效应已是显白昭著了。不过直至1770年爱德华·吉本二世去世，吉本本人也自国民军退役，他才获得足够的闲暇和金钱（来自父亲遗留的不动产）用于专业历史写作。1773年后，吉本移居伦敦，正式开始其关于罗马史专著的撰写。

依J. W. 汤普森名著《史学著作史》的叙述，吉本所处的时代，在英国史学界“博学时代”与“理性时代”之间；而按照同时代人埃德蒙·柏克的见地，吉本之著述，当属“绅士治史”的一种。恰如圣奥古斯丁（St. Augustine）闻罗马陷落而作《上帝之城》、替基督教辩诬，吉本创制出“衰亡”（Decline and Fall）这一表达，也是为了探求罗马城陷的内在机理，进而警醒大不列颠官民——帝国雄伟之机体“罹外侮之侵”（invaded by open violence）、为蛮族攻陷，是为“果”，“被蠹弊所蚀”（undermined by slow decay）、在内部分裂弱化，方为“因”。正是在这一视角下，基督教问题与罗马的陷落发生了至关重要的联系。

我们本可将吉本这部书的标题与孟德斯鸠专美于前的名著《罗马盛衰原因论》作个对比。孟氏的着眼点全在“原因之论”（Considerations on the Causes of the Grandeur and Decadence of the Romans），在于引致国祚兴亡的政道之优劣，可以说集约而明确。吉本则未将这种原因的归纳单独提出，他更倾向于使其在历史事件的演进中自然呈现。况且帝国之“盛”对他并非大问题，“衰”与“亡”才是关注的核心点。

本书节选之“基督教之发达与原初基督徒之情操、风尚、数量及情势”一章，在原书为第一卷第十五章，向来被视作观点最尖锐、最富见地者。章首开宗明义，工整铺陈重现了“卡庇托林幽思”：在帝国“雄伟之机体或罹外侮之侵，或被蠹弊所蚀”的同时，基督教却“徐浸人心，成于希声、长于昏昏，得新枝于阻被间，终能立十字架胜利之幡于卡庇托林废墟之巅”，以至于帝国早已无存，基督教却仍“为欧罗巴诸民族所信奉”，并“惠及亚细亚与阿非利加远海之滨”。当然了，“此种宗教于长存尘世、流传于软弱堕落底俗众之际，难免沾染谬误与败坏”——这显然是春秋笔法，与其说庸众的谬误是教会的白璧微瑕，倒不如说他们借助和滥用了民众的“软弱堕落”之心，助长己之声势。而自下文的叙述观之，基督徒不屈不挠的热忱，来世得报底教义，众说纷纭之法力，森严庄重之教阶，实在不像历代神学家描摹的那样不食人间烟火，而是如吉本自己所称，充斥着“罪恶、愚行与灾祸”。

史家既须负扛鼎之责，所作的论断与批评，自具有严肃慎重的性质。而吉本对基督宗教的鞭挞，除去基于历来评论家已经大书特书过的“怀疑主义”、“理性精神”外，尚具有深重的政治智慧——基督教与罗马城所以不能共存，就在于使徒及门徒于此世的恺撒外，又立一个彼岸救主（Messiah）；更围绕来世的“得救”，构建出一整套生活习俗及道德观念。基督信众不似犹太教徒有先天的民族分野或残酷的肉刑（割礼）作为准入，就信众基础而言，自然扩大许多；而其与俗世政治生活的对立，经过使徒教父及护教士的阐发，较之犹太教徒远为显著——基督徒苟欲“得救”，便须使其思想情操、生活方式乃至待人处世之道疏离俗世的“罪恶之城”，单以“上帝之城”为念。现世（帝国之世）与超世（天国之世）形成了对立。在此基础上，护教士又以千禧年学说和“天火焚城”之类恐怖渲染为器，使信众与俗世生活，特别是家庭、政治及哲学生活产生不可逾越的区隔，“外于自然之识觉与社会之利益”。

使徒教父力图维护一个全知全能的上帝形象，吉本则借灵知派（Gnostics）之口，将其贬低成“易于冲动并犯错之神”。他“爱憎无常，忿恨无度，存卑下之妒意，固不容信众背其尊奉，渠褊狭之恩单泽于一族之人，且不及来生、仅囿于匆匆现世”。倘若护教士们竭力粉饰的上帝竟是此等样貌（其实希腊神话中的众神也很有些冲动放荡之举，但基督教神学话语中的上帝既已被赋予道德形象和“全知全能”的性质，则护教士不得不反过来将上帝的反常举动全部归于人智所不能解的“神慧”，这样一来就很牵强了），则德尔图良（Tertullian）雄辩激越的护教辞，是否也有欲盖弥彰的成分在内？

倘若吉本的见地仅止于此，则他之于奥古斯丁早已反击过的古典史家的成见，未必有太大发展。但吉本的睿智处正在于，他看出基督教问题绝不仅是义理上的现世-超世对立，而且因为主教中心的罗马大公教会的建成、扩大，已经变成了现世历史中的隐患。大公教会垄断对救恩的一切现世解释及践行之道，不仅借“肃清异端”之名打击一切疏离于其理论和组织体系的教友，并且在帝国内部形成了一个组织严密、影响力广泛，特别是财力雄厚的“基督教共和国”。无怪小普林尼要惊呼：“神庙祭坛，悉被毁弃；献祭牺牲，乏人问津；而此迷信之祸非独绵延于城镇，亦波及乡村四郊，与本都并比太尼亚之旷野。”基督教政治神学从根本上否认恺撒对宗教群体拥有正当的裁断权，他们并未如犹太的马卡比人一般揭竿而起、武力反抗，这实在不是因为他们性行温良，而是思虑更加深远，要凭保全自己来壮大教会的控制力。至于主教在此体制中大权在握、肆意妄为的丑态，更是因着神圣法袍的遮蔽，而致无人敢于质疑。长此以往，国家与社会势必分离对立，处在“基督教共和国”中的信徒对现世中罗马帝国的兴衰漠不关心，国家的正当性被剥夺殆尽，最终只有灭亡一途——在这一点上，吉本倒是不自觉地暗合了霍布斯（Thomas Hobbes）的主张。

国家正当性被“基督教共和国”否定，意味着纵然君士坦丁之后的罗马帝王公开与基督徒和解，准许其信仰自由、甚至还加以鼓励，依然不得使其重归帝国怀抱。说到底，基督徒在观念上对帝国视若仇雠，在机构和运作上又有独立的一套，当然会全身心经营“地下王国”，这与作为合法性代表的帝国是否长存并无关系——这“法”是俗世的法，本是要被扬弃的！依霍布斯在《利维坦》（Leviathan）第十二章中的区分，多神教罗马人的“属世”权力乃是人的政治，宗教是政治的一部分；而犹太化基督教的“属灵”权力则是神的政治，政治是宗教的一部分。罗马教会在攫取和增值其现世权力的过程中，造就并放大了政教统一体的分裂，最终导致罗马城为蛮族所攻陷。奥古斯丁的辩白，岂非无力？

再联想到《罗马帝国衰亡史》写作之时的背景，特别是1/4个世纪后法国爆发革命、而吉本这位英国绅士惊恐万状的反应，则“言必称罗马”又将有另一层隐喻：现代国家将如何处理“政”“教”关系？英国国教在其政治-思想的架构中，应当被置于何种地位？旨在颠覆固有政治-精神秩序的某些思想浪潮的流传，及其信众在既有国家的内部造成的新型共济会，是否又会对政权的存在造成威胁（有趣的是，吉本本人是共济会会员，并且是在《罗马帝国衰亡史》动笔的同一年加入的）？“新共济会”是否会以“思想自由”作掩护，利用手无寸铁的外观和君王的漫不经心达到颠覆社稷的目的？这就进入了一种反思过程。尽管吉本未能正面回答这一问题，但联想到同时代人德迈斯特、柯特斯、柏克围绕“革命”问题展开的论述，则吉本的忧虑，显然既是历史的，又富于现实意义——这或许与他在1774年入选下院有关。吉本的议员生涯似无太多可观处，更像是同时代绅士议政的风气所致。不过他本人倒认为“余尝出席八次下院会议，身受审慎从政之训导；而此审慎之德，自为史家首要与根本底德操。”

《罗马帝国衰亡史》第一卷的写作历时约三年，至1776年2月始告付梓，与亚当·斯密之《国富论》恰在同年。未及一年，全书即已加印三版，可谓伦敦纸贵，吉本自此声名鹊起；而他从中所获之版税，也多达1000英镑。其时休谟（David Hume）已在弥留之际，犹致信大赞其文，令吉本深受感动；亚当·弗格森（Adam Ferguson）更援引修昔底德金句，称此书为“千秋万世之瑰宝”。当然，因为第十五、十六章对基督教的批评，自旧教至新教的各派神学家及教会显达亦对本书横加声讨，一时剑拔弩张。其时北美独立战争已经爆发，吉本奉命为政府撰写反对法国干预的《辩白备忘录》，因之为国务大臣韦茅斯子爵（Thomas Thynne, 3rd Viscount Weymouth，1789年后为巴斯侯爵）所信用，出任贸易与拓殖专员的优缺。公共事务虽不甚繁忙，但多少影响了精力与注意力，尽管如此，吉本还是在1779年以“我之自辩”（Vindication）为题，从义理和文法两端对第一卷第十五、十六章受到攻击之处作了正面回应。

1781年3月，《罗马帝国衰亡史》第二、第三卷同时出版，其时距首卷问世已有五载。次年，贸易与拓殖委员会因柏克的提案而遭裁撤。此际的吉本虽再度当选议员，但因辉格党在下院已沦为少数派，私交甚笃的诺思勋爵（Lord North）也不复为首相，遂与政治生活日渐疏离。1783年，他辞去公职，再度迁居少年时求学之所洛桑，继续全书最后三卷的写作，至1787年6月27日终告大成。随后完成的《回忆录》中，他曾以西塞罗式的笔法忆及此际的心情：“余实不愿隐瞒，当此书终得完结、己身重获自由；抑或毕生心血告成、声名已然昌隆之际，余之心倍感快慰。然此自矜俄而即成微末，一清楚底忧郁油然而生、萦于心头：吾与此交谊积年、意气相投之故友，终已后会无期矣！”（I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy on the recovery of my freedom; and perhaps the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my mind by the idea that I had taken my everlasting leave of an old and agreeable friend.）俟后三卷书稿于1788年面世之时，吉本已过了知天命之年，计划以十五年继续完成其一生回忆的撰写。可惜天不假人年，先是毕生挚友戴维顿于1789年遽然病逝，随后法国爆发革命，与吉本向有私交、曾亲自将《罗马帝国衰亡史》第一卷译成法文的法王路易十六被送上断头台。吉本担忧法军侵入瑞士，加之另一挚友谢菲尔德勋爵突然丧妻，不得不抱病迁回伦敦，自是一病不起，于1794年1月16日病逝于伦敦寓所。

作为文艺复兴以来欧洲跨度最大、古学修养最厚的历史著作（或许只有伟大的兰克关于教皇治下宗教政治史的著作可以与之相媲美，但后一著作的跨度仅有二百余年），《罗马帝国衰亡史》的可贵处，不在于对一切关乎罗马史的既有材料和著作进行汇总，而是“勉力汲水之源”，力图以一个自成逻辑、内涵丰富的史论框架——或曰系统（System）——容纳可信的一手材料及作者的论断。事实上，这恰恰是吉本被称为“欧洲第一位现代史家”之因：他是位典型的绅士史家，既不喜旁征博引、近于卖弄的“博学时代”文风，又不齿材料学者琐碎拖沓、不见森林的一孔之见。他的思维，近于随后出现的法国“政治学派”史家：首先搜集并考订一手材料，研究其相互联系，是为历史的解剖学；随之发现左右事态进程的法则与起主导作用的要素，是为历史的生理学；进而以之为基础，重现过往史迹的活生生面貌，即历史的外在面相学（External Physiognomy）。是以其书虽堂皇不及李维，严谨不如塔西佗，锐利机敏稍逊法兰西启蒙诸子，却自有言之成据、厚重悲壮的意味。

吉本之行文简练流畅，用词处处精当，亦注重句式结构的修葺，极富文学价值。书至得意处，气势磅礴如江海。而本书节选的第十五章，尤系三次修订而成，故而文字极尽洗练，透露出作者的审美趣味。他对脚注（Footnote）的运用尤系一绝：全书六卷所含之脚注逾八千处，涉及古典学人四百零九位，涵盖至18世纪为止关于罗马史之大部研究精华。而书至有感处，即大段引用尤文纳尔、维吉尔、贺拉斯之诗作，或巧作睿智之曲笔，或感慨平生之际遇，令人回味。

《罗马帝国衰亡史》自出版以来，二百余年间已有版本不下数十种。公认质量最优者，为剑桥大学古典学耆宿柏利教授（J. B. Bury）于1909—1914年编辑出版的七卷本，其中保留了吉本大多数原注，同时修正其误差，添加新得之研究成果。企鹅出版社“伟大的思想”书系的这个选本，摘编自企鹅古典丛书2004年版《罗马帝国衰亡史》第一卷，编者为沃姆斯利（David Womersley），实际上即是沃氏主编三卷本（1994年版）的重版。沃氏的三卷本较之柏利的七卷本缩水不少，删减处主要在古典文献注及引述，惟其标准飘忽，未免带来阅读上的不便。是以译者于掇译之际，参考柏氏编注本将原注悉数补足。此章原有前辈学人王绳祖、蒋孟引两先生的中译本，商务印书馆亦曾依据英人D. M. Low的节编本加以中译出版，近年又有台湾席代岳先生的全译本刊行。惟这几种译本皆未能还原真正的“原注”、“原本”，行文译校之时，亦有见差池，故译者不揣鄙陋，勉力译出原注，并自中文神学及史学的角度再加添注；至于原文古朴雅致之风，亦强为临摹，终不免见笑于大方。能力所限，错漏不得尽免，故而诚惶诚恐，希得读者斧正。

刘　怡　于北京

2011年秋冬之交

说　明

原书（沃姆斯利选编本）所含的脚注，译文中以“沃本注”后缀标出。部分条目添加了吉本原注包括的引文出处。

柏利选编本所含的脚注，译文中以“柏本注”后缀标出。原注因袭古学传统，引文、著作名多采拉丁文，为方便读者理解查阅，译本中统一译作中文。

需要指出的是，无论柏本、沃本，其脚注皆系在吉本原注基础上考订。柏本略有附加注释，译文中以方括号标出，沃本则无新增内容。

脚注中出现的人物或有易混淆及不为读者熟悉者，译者均给出简要介绍。所引文献如有中文译本已具者，亦给出推荐版本和相关信息。

原文中出现的重要神学概念、交代未清的历史人物与事件，及其他尚须补足者，译文中以“译者注”后缀标出。

中文神学之话语系统内涵繁杂，虑及原作者本人的宗教倾向，译文及注疏中出现的人名与文献名，均依辅仁神学著作编译会所编《基督宗教外语-汉语神学词典》，以基督教译法译出（如Jerome/Hieronymus统译为耶柔米，不采天主教译法“热罗尼莫”）。注释中出现的《圣经》原文，均依和合本中译本。

既有的神学经典中出现的地名、人名词汇，如有与习惯译法相违者（如Corinth在和合本《圣经》中作哥林多，习译为科林斯；Titus和合本作提多，习译为提图斯），保留其神学译法。但一般历史叙述及人物介绍中采用习译。

为方便把握文意及结构，保留了柏利选编本所含的节标。

基督徒之发达与原初基督徒之情操、风尚、数量及情势

探究之重要性(1)

治罗马帝国史者，于基督教之发达及奠基一事，实有做一显白而不失睿智底探究之必要。彼国雄伟之机体或罹外侮之侵，或被蠹弊所蚀，而此纯净谦卑之宗教辄徐浸人心，成于希声、长于昏昏，得新枝于阻被间，终能立十字架胜利之幡于卡庇托林(2)废墟之巅。非独若此，基督教之势力犹未终于罗马帝国之隳，亦未囿于其疆域中。历经十三四世纪之变迁，此宗教仍为欧罗巴诸民族——人类中于艺术、学术及武力最杰出者——所信奉。赖此辈欧洲人之勤苦热忱，基督教已惠及亚细亚与阿非利加远海之滨；凭此辈欧洲人之殖民地，是教固已傲立于加拿大直至智利——此方域实非古人之能知。

探究之困难

此项探究之实用与饶有兴味约略如是，然亦具二种别样困难。教会史之资料贫乏可疑，吾辈难于洞悉其初创时代种种疑窦。公正持中之大道复令吾辈于一般福音传道师及信众索然之说教中觅得瑕疵；倘考察者失于粗疏，此般瑕疵似将令渠崇奉之信仰失色。然俟彼忆及天启自何而来、晓谕何人，一般加诸虔诚基督徒之恶语与异教徒之虚妄胜利，辄告无存。神学家固可纵情描摹宗教自天而降、不食人间烟火之景。史家则须负扛鼎之责。彼实应探究，此种宗教于长存尘世、流传于软弱堕落底俗众之际，难免沾染之谬误与败坏。

基督教发达之五项原因

如是，吾辈之好奇心自当导向此一问题之探究：何以基督教之信仰得以完胜世间既存之一般宗教？此问题之解答显明亦不失如意；基督教之教义自存一种服人之明验，其至高之创始者自柄一种莫大之天佑。然则世之正道与明见鲜见从之如流若此，神慧亦时时俯就(3)以驭人心之激狂、俗众之常情，藉之完遂其目的；是以吾辈或可悬原初之因于玄牝之门，恂恂惟谨，单论基督教会风生水起之次等缘由。其情或可归诸如下五端缘由之翼赞与助力：I.基督徒不屈不挠或曰拒不宽容之热忱。此种热忱得其义于犹太教，然固已祛除后者禁绝异族接受摩西律法(4)之狭隘孤僻境界，转而以乐见代之。II.来生之教义，此项重大真知每能自新境况获致影响与效验。III.原初教会众说纷纭之超凡法力。IV.基督徒朴诚严谨之德行。V.基督教共和国之团结与纪律，渠藉此于罗马帝国中心渐成一独立增殖之国。

原因之一：犹太人之热忱

前文固已述及远古世代之宗教和谐，纵为相异相抗之族，于彼我巫祝之事，亦存容忍敬重之量。惟独一族之人其行踽踽，未间其中，此犹太人也。亚述、波斯王朝之世，此辈犹太人自充其最被鄙视之奴，蒙尘经年(5)，及亚历山大宾天，乃复自立于世(6)；后代君主之时，彼等生聚蜂起于东，嗣而延祚于西，远族视之，不免居奇愕异(7)。犹太人谨奉渠专属之礼法，遗世独立，其拘谨固执之态，似已自显为一特殊族群，于非其族类者，则直言常存憎恶之心，几无宿物(8)。纵被安条克之暴政(9)，希律王之诈术，及周遭各族之垂范，犹太人殊不愿令摩西律法与希腊人之优美神话混诸一端(10)。而罗马人固守其普遍宽容之箴言，于此可鄙之教亦予护持(11)。温文之奥古斯都纡尊降贵，使祝颂国步之祭设于耶路撒冷之祊(12)；而亚伯拉罕最卑贱之嗣，倘其敢于致卡庇托林之朱庇特以等量礼敬，其身与渠之亲族必被怨憎之目。且夫征服者固存节制之心，犹太之遗民尚不掩褊狭之妒，及彼目异教之幡传至此新臣服之罗马行省，不免惊惶羞愤。卡里古拉桀逆放恣，欲使渠之造像配享耶路撒冷之宗庙，亦遭其族同仇偕作之忤，告于夭折。彼之畏惧亵事偶像甚于死亡，一至如是(13)。犹太人之虔信摩西律法，与渠怨憎外邦宗教之心，大抵无殊。此热忱虔信之川，当其入逼仄之道，益增击湍之力，几成拗怒激荡之波。

〔热忱之渐趋增长〕

如是，上帝既特呈其选民之诡秘历史于吾辈，则此不移之坚信、虽为上古之人且作可憎可笑，固亦有震慑人心之处。然则居于第二圣殿世代之犹太人，奉戴摩西教义竟能虔敬拘谨、日见昭彰，较其先祖之驽钝不易信服，殊有令人可惊之处。彼时，纵有神之律法于雷鸣电闪之际降诸西奈之山；纵然潮汐涨落、星辰运转皆为以色列人之便而暂停；纵使虔敬受奖、不服被惩、现世果报分明，犹太人之先祖亦时时悖逆神王凛然底威权，彼奉戴诸民族之偶像于耶和华之圣所，仿阿拉伯人帐幕与腓尼基人市井之所行，为诸种荒诞祀典(14)。俟天佑据之离弃此忘恩之族，犹太人之信仰方收致些许健力及纯净。摩西及约书亚之同时代人夥矣，彼于最可惊人底神迹，尝抱漫不经心之态度。及其罹诸种灾殃之扰，后代犹太人始能改弦更张、崇信此神迹，而自绝于流俗底偶像崇拜之习；此一民族似已置久远先祖之传统于生身亲证之先，殊别于人类心智之一般准则(15)。

〔其宗教之适于自存胜乎外征〕

犹太教极适于自存自卫，彼诚无外征之心；新近皈依之人，其数未见逾于背教者之数。神之应许初则仅予孑然之族，特有之割礼(16)亦囿于一姓之内。及亚伯拉罕之嗣繁衍至海中沙粒之众，授渠以律法与祭奠之神明，乃自命为以色列全族专有之上帝；子固以其褊狭之护持，使其眷爱之族离于异姓之民(17)。犹太人之征迦南也，奇妙之景与血腥之况常萦，及其胜出，彼固已与其邻族处一难于和解之敌对状态。此般犹太人奉天之命戡除崇信偶像最盛之族，及其行神意也，鲜有见妨于人性之软弱者。彼等不得与异族通婚及结盟，亦不得接纳外族参加礼拜，此般戒律时有相沿弗替者，几可达三世、七世以至十世之遥。依律法之戒，摩西底教义亦不必传诸异邦之人，犹太人固无意自负此责。彼于续纳新分子一事，亦不被罗马之宽大政策所动，宁步希腊人挟私之虚荣。亚伯拉罕之后自彰为圣约(18)之独一承嗣，矜然嬉然，深恐轻假之于四夷将自贬祖产之贵。及其泛泛交际乎四邻，固有增进于识，而褊狭之见犹屹屹然；以色列之神得罗致新信众，诚非渠之教士广布福音之果，而多归于异教一时之迁就。摩西之教义似专为彼国彼族而设；倘犹太人拘泥于任一男子每年须亲自朝谒主耶和华三次之律例，彼固不得迁出上帝应许底窄狭之土(19)。耶路撒冷圣殿之隳实已扫除此教条之羁；然则犹太宗教最关紧要之部亦为其所累，告于毁弃；彼异教之众，于至圣所空无一物之奇闻久感惊诧(20)，彼实难知晓，倘一宗教失却圣殿与祭坛、祭司及牺牲，则其复能凭何物为崇信之对象、谨遵底法度。而彼犹太人虽处末法之世，仍未弃其屹然独占之殊荣，遗世独立，不求他方奥援。彼仍凭不屈之恒毅，尽其所能，践行律法可期之部。如是，习性、成见截然对立之异族，自当目其节日之殊、食物之异与诸种繁文缛节为可厌可恶之鹄的。且夫苦痛危险之割礼一项，即足以拒一志愿皈依之徒于犹太会堂之外(21)。

〔基督教更开明之热忱〕

正当此际，基督教乃横空出世，彼恃摩西律法之强护其身，复能脱于其教条底负荷。此一新教体系固禀其注目宗教真理与上帝统一性之专有热忱，比之旧教，可谓不分轩轾：一般已然启示于世生、关乎造物主底自然与意旨之相，皆可增势俗众于此神秘教义之崇敬，至为适恰。摩西与诸先知皆被目分为有神性之权威，其情自成基督教最坚固底始基。肇自上古之世，即有预言绵绵绸缪，曰万众翘首之救主将出，依犹太人之众议，此救主或时以王者及征服者之面目示人，而依基督教之见，此救主当为先知、殉道者与神子(22)。因神子之赎罪牺牲，俗世祭坛之有瑕祭祀可立时废止(23)。彼犹太教昔年徒具其表之繁琐仪规，今已为一纯然之精神礼拜所继，且其尚可等量施行于尘世列邦、万族万民；犹太教昔年之血腥入教割礼，今已为一无伤之圣水洗礼所代。神恩底应许，向时仅偏于亚伯拉罕后裔之私，今已遍许乎自由民及奴隶、希腊人与化外人、犹太人并异族人。而基督教会之徒众仍可自持其特许之利，彼特许其皈依者出俗世、登乎九天，增其虔信、保其康乐，甚或纵其假虔信之貌而自矜于心；与之同时，俗世万民皆被许予、庶几引致此荣光之特惠，渠不独为一馈赠之恩泽，几已成强加之义务。凡有新入教者，其最神圣之责即为播撒已然收致之万福于友亲间，并正告彼等：凡抗拒者，仁慈全能之上帝将目其为杵逆圣意，加诸严厉之惩罚。

〔犹太化基督徒之顽固与其缘由〕

虽其如此，彼基督徒之会得脱出犹太教之堂、崭然发声，尚须历不赀之时、经不计之难。犹太人向目耶稣为上古神谕预示底救主，及其皈依基督教，犹尊彼为德行与信仰之先师；然渠固墨守彼先祖之祀典，俟异族皈依之人渐增，彼乃图加诸此冗节于其间。此般犹太裔基督徒固守摩西律法之神性与大立法者(24)之尽善不渝，依其发声，似能成理。彼等认定，倘恒在之上帝竟欲取消旨在区分其选民之特设祀典，其废止之举当一如此项祀典宣示之始，昭明庄重，固非今之昏晦：倘摩西底教义(25)仅为权宜之计，其效可止于救主之降，而救主当以更完满之信仰与礼拜度人(26)，则历来频言此教义当长存不易之辞，皆属无稽：且救主自体，并尘世间与其游之徒众，岂不应晓谕众人、废止此失的陈腐之祭仪，而断不致躬亲实践摩西律法之琐细仪典，更遑论陷基督教与犹太教会之诸分支于含混不明之境，其时也久矣。及彼化外之人裁判摩西律法消亡之因(27)，此般论据似曾付抗辩之辞；甚而是辈饱学经师尚勤勉有加，彼于旧约中诸种语文含混之句，及使徒先师(28)意旨不明之行，皆作翔实疏解。则吾辈今日欲做一悖逆犹太信众之意向与成见底裁决，尚须逐层阐明福音教义之谱系，谨小慎微、传语婉转。

〔耶路撒冷之拿撒勒人教会〕

耶路撒冷教会之历史或可为此种审慎之必要，及犹太教义于其各支派所施之至深思维印记，添一鲜活例证。耶路撒冷之最初监督(29)十五人悉为已受割礼之犹太人；彼牧养之教会杂糅摩西底律法并基督之教义(30)。虑及此教会建于基督殉难后区区四十日，且经年藉其使徒躬亲视察而行，则其原初传统获奉作为正统准绳，实属自然(31)。远途之教会时见告求彼庄敬“母会”之权威，亦时时慷慨捐资解其窘迫。然俟彼一众富裕教会团契勃兴于帝国之大邑，勃兴于安提阿、亚历山大里亚、以弗所、哥林多并罗马，则耶路撒冷自各基督徒群落收致之尊崇，渐趋黯淡。犹太皈依者——或依后世之所称，曰“拿撒勒人”(32)——为基督教会奠其始基，俄而自察其已陷于增势汹汹、由诸异教转籍基督幡下底会众之压：此辈外邦之人，及彼经本族使徒底特许、脱出摩西祭仪之难耐重负，则渠于拘泥不苟之同教弟兄，乃坚拒施与昔年彼卑屈以求之容忍。拿撒勒人目彼犹太教神庙之颓、城邦之隳、教义之丧(33)，中心如噎；纵其所信有异，彼据其风俗，犹与此辈非虔之民存一亲密之情。异教之众目犹太人底悲遇为至尊厌弃之果，基督徒之见别显中平，咎其于上帝震怒(34)。拿撒勒人乃迁出耶路撒冷之丘墟，移居约旦河东岸之佩拉小镇，此古老教会幽居荒僻黯淡之境，踯躅六十有年(35)。彼仍时时礼谒圣城以汲慰藉，彼尝忆及自然与教义所述敬事畏天之训，深抱重整河山之心。然则至哈德良皇帝(36)之世，犹太人弃世绝尘之热狂终得收致登峰造极之灾殃；罗马人愤懑于其反复底暴动(37)，乃以空前之严苛践行战胜者之权。皇帝于锡安山之麓创一新城，名曰埃利亚·卡庇托林纳(38)，俾其以殖民地特权；彼明文宣示，凡有犹太人敢抵近此城周遭者，必被最厉之惩处，且置罗马兵士一队以为警卫，严行其令。拿撒勒人苟欲脱出此普适之禁令，只余一途，谓真理之力须托庇现世实利之助，正其时也。彼特选马可为耶路撒冷之主教，此公系一外邦出身之高阶教士(39)，原籍似应为意大利甚或某拉丁行省。藉由马可之劝服，本教会之多数信众乃自绝于已然护持逾百年之摩西律法。弃绝此旧习与成见后，彼方得自由进入哈德良之埃利亚殖民地，与正统之罗马天主教会成一稳固联合(40)。

〔伊便尼派〕

及耶路撒冷教会底名与誉复归锡安之山，凡有不从圣城拉丁主教号令之拿撒勒派众，其虽零散无名，亦独被创立异端、分裂大公之罪。彼仍栖身于佩拉之旧日住区，渐其势于大马士革周遭之村，于叙利亚之贝罗埃亚城——今名阿勒颇者——建一势孤力单之教会(41)。依时人之见，俾此种信仰基督之犹太人以“拿撒勒人”之名不免过誉，众皆目其为智虑浅薄、资财匮乏之辈，俄而诨呼其名曰“伊便尼派”，以显轻蔑(42)。及教会复归于耶路撒冷有年，此种衷心奉耶稣为救主，然接续护持摩西律法之人，当否获救赎之望，渐成一可疑可争之问。殉道者查士丁(43)宅心仁厚，彼实愿予此论争以肯定回答；其自述之文虽极尽审慎内敛，彼诚乐于庇佑此种有瑕之基督徒，依彼之见，倘其人自行摩西祭礼，而不曾目之为普遍所需、亦不妄求推广，则犹可望得救。然一俟追问教会之公论，查士丁犹坦言正统基督徒之多数非独已然绝其犹太化弟兄于救赎之望，即于交谊、宴客、社会生活一类俗务，亦拒与其人居(44)。恰如常理之可预见，此种苛刻严厉之论，终胜于温文和缓之论；而摩西之徒与基督之众，究为一恒在之界所隔。彼不遇之伊便尼派，在犹太教则视乎背教，在基督教更别为异端，不得已而自取一决绝之品格；虽迟至4世纪犹可见此消亡教派之些许陈迹，其教自身则已然消融于基督教会与犹太会堂之中(45)。

〔灵知派〕

当是时，正统教会于摩西律法，固不妄为尊崇、亦不轻予蔑视，取一持中态度；而诸种异端之徒众乃反其道而行，或盲信之、或攻讦之，旨趣异而其谬一。伊便尼派墨守彼犹太教之公认真理，断言其万世长存。灵知派(46)则别据假想之瑕疵，妄言此种教义非出神慧之创。世间有持怀疑论者，于上古之史则无所知，于天道之行则不能识，轻为异议，悖逆摩西与先知之权威。灵知派于此种异议，辄急切相投、力加传布(47)。此辈异端教派，于声色之好多有抵触，其于族长之多妻(48)、大卫之风流(49)、所罗门之妃嫔满宫(50)，每多责难。至于迦南土地之再征、淳朴土著之族灭，实不知何可容于一般人道及正义之理。及其忆及此种暗杀、处刑、屠戮血腥之记，竟已充塞彼犹太人史书之册，乃深感巴勒斯坦之化外人何其恻隐为怀，竟能以善存亲朋乡党之心，待此辈崇拜偶像之仇敌(51)。及其抛却门户之见、单论律法之身，彼尚断言倘一宗教单以血祭及冗仪为念，赏罚皆从肉身现世之性，则当何从激扬好德之心，克制情欲冲动？至于摩西所述上帝造人与人类堕落之说，灵知派众向报以亵渎底嘲讽，彼于神在六天工作之后歇息、亚当底肋骨、伊甸乐园、生命树与知善恶树、能言之蛇、不可食之果及人类因其初代先祖所犯可恕之罪而遭判罪诸事，全无倾听之耐性(52)。彼尚以亵渎之辞笔削以色列之上帝，目其为易于冲动并犯错之神祇，爱憎无常，忿恨无度，存卑下之妒意、固不容信众背其尊奉，渠褊狭之恩单泽于一族之人，且不及来生、仅囿于匆匆现世。以此观之，其断不能见全知全能宇宙之父底任一特征(53)。灵知派固亦认可犹太人之宗教较异教之偶像崇拜罪过稍轻；然其基本信条则为：彼等膜拜之基督乃神所放射之最初与最璀璨之光，彼降临人世，所图者为拯救人类脱出其诸多谬误，且将示众人以一真理与至善之新制度。最博学之教父或因妄自菲薄，草草认可灵知派之诡辩。渠乃认定经义之字面含义与信仰及理性之一般原则或存矛盾，然及其于摩西诫命每一脆弱处被覆一浑厚之寓言帷幕，则转而自避于幕后，自目为无忧无惧矣(54)。

〔彼之宗派、发展及影响〕

或有一说曰，图拉真与哈德良两帝即位前，其时去基督之死已有百年，教会之纯净仍如处子，未尝为分裂与异端所侵；是说之新巧固有余，于确实处则为不足(55)。倘公允言之，则当是时，救主之信众于信仰及实践二端，皆得享其大方自在，远胜后世之能容。及至拜领圣体(56)之仪渐趋加苛，而得势教派之精神权威复张其赫，一众深具名望之教徒，乃获令弃绝其私议；此辈是以群情忿怨，继而坚守其私见，推衍其谬论之义，公然树背教之幡、抗于教会底一致。众基督徒之中，灵知派因最知礼、最博学与最富资财而闻名；其“灵知”之名号固显其学识优越，或因其自命不凡而称，或因反对者心存嫉妒、而蓄意谑称(57)。此辈教众多数出身异族，其奠基之人似皆叙利亚或埃及土著，彼处气候温暖，是使人之身心二端趋于游怠、耽乎凝思。此辈灵知派众于东方之哲学、甚至祆教(58)中获致诸种崇高隐微之教义，如物质不灭、存在之二元对立及玄幻世界之神秘等级一类(59)，间其于基督信仰之中。及其自堕于此种深渊，彼乃纵其淆乱之想象、以为指引；嗣因歧途多出、其数无穷，此辈灵知派众乃渐分为更细之宗派，其数几逾半百(60)。个中最富名望之派，曰巴西理得派，曰瓦伦廷派，曰马克安派，以及年代稍晚之摩尼教。此辈教派皆自炫其主教与会众，矜夸其博士与殉道者(61)；此辈异端皆自书其春秋，其中基督及众使徒言行悉遭编排，以合于彼自为之教义(62)，而正统教会所采之四福音书遂被弃用。如是，灵知派之兴也忽也广(63)。彼乃遍传亚细亚与埃及(64)，立足于罗马，间或侵渐西部诸行省。此辈教派多勃兴于2世纪，风行于3世纪，及至4、5世纪，则已不敌新兴之流行论辩，为正统当局底万钧之势所遏。灵知派虽时有扰乱清净、玷辱教义之名等事，其于基督宗教底传播，所助力犹胜于所阻滞。异族皈依者之最强异议与偏见多针对摩西律法，而尚有诸多基督教团契，其不曾强求此辈未开化之蛮族于神启有何信念，故异族之人犹可得此种团契之门而入。俟其皈依，彼之信仰乃徐徐巩固滋长，而基督教会终得克制此最顽之敌，获益良多(65)。

〔魔鬼被视作古之神祇〕

虽其如此，不论正统教会、伊便尼派与灵知派于摩西律法之神性及当否遵行一事存何种相异见解，彼皆存等量之排他热忱，皆憎恶偶像崇拜（此一特征向使犹太人自别于上古之他种异族），自行其是。彼之哲人目多神教之义为村俗诡计并谬误之合体，其于信仰面具之后，对一般多神教暗藏一种轻蔑讥笑，不顾忌此种嘲弄或顺服将遭致冥冥中——或依彼之见，子虚乌有——底神力之忿恨。然则此辈原初基督徒于帝国既有之国教——多神异教，则憎之如仇、畏之似虎。正统教会与诸异端皆存此公论：夫魔鬼乃偶像崇拜之始作俑者，渠赞助此恶德，且自为一种偶像(66)。此辈谋叛之精灵虽已不复为天使之尊，堕入地狱深渊，犹可游荡于世间，折磨俗世戴罪之人底肉身、而惑其心。彼继而察诸人心之自然倾向信仰，滥其于用，狡计取缔世人对造物主之敬拜，僭窃至高之神底尊荣。俟其狡计得逞，彼之虚荣与报复之心立时饕足，而所余之唯一期许，则在使俗世之人间于彼之罪恶并痛苦中。基督之信徒皆确信——至少揣测——众魔鬼已然协商一致，分头担当多神教之最重要角色：其一领朱庇特之名号与神性，其二被埃斯库拉庇乌斯之名，其三为维纳斯之形，其四或为阿波罗(67)；彼等凭其久长之经验与飘忽底气质，技艺娴熟、姿态堂皇，自可胜任所扮之角色。彼乃蛰伏于神庙之中，创制诸种节日与献祭，捏造寓言、妄颁神谕，尤喜频现奇迹(68)。肇因此恶灵之侵，一般基督徒于诸种超凡现象皆得乐见、乐信，彼等已然认信、几至服膺异教神话最荒径走板之杜撰。然则基督徒之信仰亦常伴以怖吓。当其于多神之国教施一微薄底经意，即属一种屈膝而事魔鬼、忤犯上帝威严之行。

〔基督徒之恶崇拜偶像〕

嗣因此种见解之故，欲为一基督徒，首要而艰巨之责即为持守纯净、自绝于偶像崇拜之门。然则列国之异教非但为学园宣讲、宗庙传布之抽象教义。彼多神教之万千神、海量仪典，皆得与劳作及娱乐之事、公众及私密之境交相错杂，凡俗世之人，欲求脱出此种习俗，而犹能持守其社交、遂行其公职、消遣其闲暇者，何其难矣(69)！

〔仪典〕

譬如和、战，皆属国之大事，及其行也，必重设牺牲，大夫、元老、众将士以下无不躬亲祭服(70)。又如公演戏剧，亦为异教徒欢快祀典之一要件，王侯、庶民皆得欢庆嬉戏，祝其特有节礼，自谓众神当乐见此奉献(71)。基督徒固怀一般敬畏，远此可厌之竞技场与剧院，然俟彼踏足任一欢娱宴饮，亲见众友人告求慈悲底异教神明，交相泼酒、以为祝福(72)，犹自觉其已陷于可憎之陷阱。及一故作踌躇之新妇，于婚礼之际被迫入彼新居之门(73)，或一凄惨送葬之队列，徐徐迈于彼火葬之堆(74)；当此饶有兴味之际，基督徒宁受迫而离弃彼至亲之人，殊不愿沾染此邪礼夙有之罪孽。

〔技艺〕

至于百工及诸行业，凡稍涉偶像制作与装饰者，虽其极微，亦已被偶像崇拜之污(75)；此种裁夺可谓森严矣。及其行也，世之游闲事工者与陶冶梓匠之流，多坐无间之困，为其愁肠。是以倘吾辈放眼万般古代遗迹，自当察觉：除却神之造像与礼拜用底圣器，彼异教徒之屋室、衣着及家具，其所被最美之装饰，无不源于希腊人底奇想所出之优美外观与悦人创意(76)。而音乐、绘画、雄辩与诗歌之艺，亦发诸此不洁之外邦泉源。教父所书之文曰(77)：阿波罗与众缪斯实乃地狱精灵之喉舌；荷马与维吉尔为其最显赫之奴仆；而诸种天才横溢、兴味盎然之美丽神话，其意盖在称颂魔鬼之荣光。不特如此，即在彼希腊与罗马人底日常言语中，亦富于诸种不敬之词，倘一基督徒行为粗率，不免发之潦草，甚或闻之泰然(78)。

〔节庆〕

如是，此种危险诱惑可谓俯拾即是，凡教徒无所防备者，不免罹突然之侵；而俟彼庄严节庆，此獠辄愈形猖狂。此种节庆遍布一岁始终，配置精巧，以使迷信得被欢娱与德行之貌(79)。罗马礼俗之中，长存诸种庄严节庆：或以公私同庆之辞欢贺元旦，或以吊死问生之行放纵性情，探知私财不可侵犯之界，或俟节入青阳、乃祈五谷丰登，或纪念罗马城之奠基与共和国之创始、永援勿忘，或藉农神节之欢歌恣肆、返于远古之原初平等。而虔信基督之徒，纵于一微不足道之邪行亦存兢兢拘束之态，及彼目此种邪风淫祀，厌恶之情乃油然而兴。寻常节庆之时，古风有张灯于门、饰以桂枝，加冕于首、冠以花环之习。此风固古朴优美，或可目作无伤大雅之民间习例，得被包容。然依彼基督徒之见，此成例实乃忤逆：门户之灯意在求家神护持，月桂之枝乃热恋达佛涅者之圣物(80)，至于百花之环，其固多用诸喜庆与服丧之象征，然最初则源自奉戴迷信之祭仪。当此之际，众人乃劝导此辈战战兢兢之基督徒，使其所行合于本国之风尚与长官之指令，然渠犹忧心忡忡、辗转反侧，深恐其行不能脱良心之谴责、教会之非难与上帝之惩罚(81)。

〔为教而狂〕

以上种种，即为一真基督徒欲护持福音之纯洁、免于偶像崇拜流俗之沾染所应有底戒慎。彼国定多神教之信徒因教化与习俗之故，于公私礼节中之迷信仪式皆只敷衍而行。然及其行也，基督徒乃获一宣示及强化热忱异议之良机。藉此种频繁抗议，彼忠于信仰之情乃日渐加增，而及彼热忱有加，渠所为反对魔鬼帝国之圣战乃斗志愈旺，胜算愈大。

原因之二：众哲人关于灵魂不灭之学说

中古哲人于灵魂不灭一事之无知、谬误与困惑，西塞罗之著述(82)或可为一鲜活例证。及此辈哲人欲令其门徒不复畏死，彼之教诲固显白不失阴郁：人固有一死，当其至也，吾辈终得脱出生之苦海；及吾无身，吾有何患。然则希腊与罗马亦具一种别样贤哲，其于人性自存一种更显崇高、或较公正之见，虽则公允论之，个中见解时被其想象所驭，而此想象多出乎彼之虚荣。及彼顾盼自得，矜其心智之所能及；及彼穷尽智虑，用诸大学抑或庙堂；及彼挂念声名，欲自使流芳百世、超乎肉身之限；彼殊不愿自拟与田野走兽同伦，亦不愿使彼衷心称颂之尊贵生灵，囿于尺寸之土、数载之岁。其固持此种一厢情愿之见，乃援引形而上之科学——或曰形而上之语言——以为凭据。彼俄而察觉人之思维活动有异于任一物质之特性，因而人之灵魂必为一自外于肉身之实体，此物纯粹、单一、无从消解，当其脱出形骸底桎梏，必得获致更高之德性与幸福。依此种似是而非之崇高原则，步柏拉图后尘之哲人乃演绎出一不甚合理之结论：依彼之见，人之灵魂非独未来不灭，且向时长存；是以极宜被目为充塞与支持宇宙、无限而自在底精神之一部(83)。此种远离人之感官与经验之学说或可消遣哲人思维之闲暇，亦可于孤独之凄寂中，为消沉底德性添一慰藉之光；然其人于学园时代所获之此种单薄印象，不日即湮没于现实生活之诸般俗务。吾辈今已熟知活跃于西塞罗同时及最初几位皇帝时代之知名人物，依其活动、品格与动机，余诚可断言彼等此生之作为绝未受来世赏罚底严肃信条之规诫。在罗马之法庭与元老院，雄辩底演讲者毫不顾虑将因揭露此学说之无稽而致开罪听众，盖因世之教养良好、自具见地之人，皆已鄙弃此谬论(84)。

〔希腊与罗马异教徒之见〕

如是，哲学可达之最高成就仅在含混指认世人于来世之欲望与希求，甚或可能，惟神启得证实俗人灵肉分离后收容渠灵魂之无形世界确否存在、其状何如。然则希腊、罗马向时虽有流俗宗教，吾辈尚可察知其固有之诸种缺陷，是使彼难于承当接续来世之重责大任。1．彼等神话之一总体系并无确凿事实为证；异教徒中最具智能者已然否定其僭窃之威权。2．彼国之画师与诗人纵其幻想，于阴曹地府之景妄作描摹，而彼等于地下安插之妖魔其数甚夥，赏罚则几无衡平，以致合于人心之庄严真理，竟得为荒诞无稽之野谈所践踏玷污(85)。3．希腊、罗马之虔敬多神教徒，几未目来世之说为彼信仰之基本规条。以公共团体而非私人论之，则众神之意旨多彰显于此世之可见场合。朱庇特或阿波罗祭坛前世人之告求已然显明，彼等于现世之福祉希冀甚殷，于彼岸之事则或无所知、或付阙如(86)。

〔化外人之见〕

然则在印度、亚述、埃及并高卢，灵魂不灭之重要真理却宣讲较勤，信者亦多；吾辈固不可归此差别之因于化外人底优越知识，惟有目其为既有之祭司制度下，神官假道德动机以为个人野心工具之影响(87)。

〔犹太人之见〕

吾辈亦当忆及，此一不可或缺之宗教原理，自当以字句明白之辞宣示于巴勒斯坦之选民，亦当妥善托付于亚伦子孙世袭之大祭司(88)。故俟吾辈察觉灵魂不灭之说固无存于摩西律法，惟有谨遵上天之玄妙意旨(89)；诸先知于是说尚语焉不详；且终埃及时代与巴比伦之囚底千年(90)，犹太人之希望与恐惧似亦囿于现世生活之一隅(91)。及居鲁士允此放逐之族归诸上帝应许之地，及以斯拉复原彼犹太教历代之记(92)，耶路撒冷之二有名教派——撒都该人与法利赛人，乃徐渐兴旺(93)。撒都该人多出身富庶贵胄之家，彼恪守摩西律法之文句，奉摩西五经为信仰之唯一准则，以虔敬之诚、坚拒五经未记之灵魂不灭一事。法利赛人则别附传统一项于五经之文，此传统名下包含东方民族底哲学与宗教之诸冥思信条，悉为其采纳。于是宿命或预定之说，天使及精灵之事，与来世赏罚之论，悉得入此新兴信条之列。而法利赛人之行固为严正，犹太民众之大部乃归其宗派，如是灵魂不灭之说于哈斯谟尼朝诸王并大祭司统治之世(94)，得盛行乎会堂之间。世之多神教众于其信奉之义仅作一平实淡漠之首肯，以为足矣，犹太教众之性情则尚不满于此；彼一经认可此彼岸王国之说，乃诉诸其民族性中固有之热忱、全心信奉。然则此种热忱未能为来世之说增添些许依据，亦未得增其或然性；是以此种已为自然所明示、理性所赞同、迷信所奉戴之生命与不灭之说，犹须藉基督之权威与示范，方可得神权之认可。

〔基督徒之见〕

及一永恒幸福之期许晓告世间众人，许诺俟彼皈依此信仰、谨遵福音之戒律，即可得永福，则罗马帝国治下之诸教派、诸阶级与诸行省皆得见万千尘俗，齐齐接受此有利提议，固不足为奇。彼中古之基督徒蔑弃其此世生活、坚信来世之永生，可得激励于此；而今时之信仰固疑窦重重、不克完美，不复供诸此观念矣。

〔世界末日将临〕

原初基督教会中，真理之势曾蒙一别样意见之强劲助力，此意见固因其效用并古老而收致尊崇，然终难合于现实之经验。众乃遍信世界末日与彼岸王国皆在目前。诸使徒曾于预言中宣示此灵异事件之临近；使徒之早期信徒复持存此说，而一般拘泥章句之义、依其领会基督真言之人尤为热望满怀，彼诚寄望人子(95)于云中光辉再临，显圣于早年亲目基督恭行于人世、而今辄被韦斯巴芗与哈德良暴政所苦之一代犹太人全然离世之前。一千七百余载之变迁使吾辈无从深究预言与启示之秘义；然则为成机巧之目的，尚可容此谬误存诸教会之中，其自当于基督徒之信与行收致有益之果；此辈基督徒乃怀抱一庄严期待，坐待尘俗之世与四海之民战栗于神圣审判者之前底决定时刻(96)。

〔千禧年之学说〕

近古盛行之千禧年学说，与基督再临一事关联甚密(97)。依一种归诸先知以利亚之传说，盖因创世之业得毕于六日之内，则此世得持存之际亦当不逾于六千年之数(98)。与既存之历史对照，可知此一耽于劳苦及争夺之漫漫现世今已濒于告终(99)，继而将有一千年之欢愉安息；基督将率凯旋之圣徒及诸得脱死亡、抑或神奇复活之选民，治理此尘世，以迄选民之最终并完全复活之命定时刻。此种希冀令其信徒喜不自胜，因之，“新耶路撒冷”此一幸福天国之所在俄而得被众人幻想之最华美色彩。肇因此王国之子民仍存凡人天性与知觉，全然纯粹并囿于精神快乐之幸福于渠不免失诸高妙。单具田园生活乐趣之伊甸园已不复为罗马帝国治下盛行之优越社会面貌所喜。是以此城当以黄金并宝石筑就，其毗邻之地富于天赐之五谷及美酒；欢乐而仁爱之子民安享天地自然之产出，永不为他种偏私底财产法所桎梏(100)。历代教父于此千禧年之确实皆作谆谆陈说，中古之殉道者查士丁(101)与爱任纽尝于使徒嫡传弟子之侧亲闻謦，近古之拉克唐修曾为君士坦丁大帝之子充任教师(102)，其时虽有先后，所述者盖一也。是故此说虽未为人所皆信，其固已为正统信众中一种主流思想；且其似与世人之希冀并恐惧之心每多适切，自当于基督信仰之进步颇多助力。然迄教会之广厦趋于完竣，现世之助力辄悉被弃置。基督治世之说初则被视诸深奥之譬喻，徐而乃目为可疑并无用之见，而至终了，究被弃绝，谓其出于异端及盲信之杜撰(103)。然此一神秘预言虽被视诸倾向已遭批驳之信条，仍得勉强脱出教会之申禁，今时仍为《圣经》正典之一部(104)。

〔罗马与此世之被大火〕

如是，基督之信众既已获致关于人间治世之幸福与荣光应许，则不信基督之世界，将被最恐怖之灾殃所威吓。新耶路撒冷之缔造与崇信神秘主义之巴比伦底败亡乃齐步而前；而君士坦丁之前底诸皇帝既已固守其偶像崇拜之业，则巴比伦之恶名亦当加诸罗马之城及罗马帝国(105)。神已为诸种折损此繁荣国度之精神及物质灾殃做一有序安排；内部纷争与自极北蛮荒之地南下之凶残蛮族底入侵；瘟疫并饥荒，彗星与日月蚀，地震及洪水(106)。而此般异象尚仅为罗马所被之大灾殃底先兆与预警。当此大灾殃之降，西庇阿(107)与恺撒之国必被天火所隳，而七山之城(108)与其宫室、神庙并凯旋门，辄将埋葬于烈火与硫磺之巨浸。然则尚有一事或可慰藉罗马人之虚荣：彼之帝国所存之世，犹之此岸王国全般之世；尘世一度亡于大洪水(109)，今则将二度灭亡、亡于大火，其速更甚(110)。而于此大火灾之诸见解，基督徒之信仰与东方之传说、斯多噶派之哲学并自然发展之类推恰相吻合；且罗马不特因宗教之故获选作此大火之源与首要火场，其自然及物质诸项亦适于大火之起：罗马固富于深邃之洞穴、硫磺之矿床及埃特纳、维苏威、利帕里一众火山，可见其一斑。纵为最冷静与勇武之怀疑论者，亦不免承认当下世界之毁于火患自存极大可能。而基督徒之众甚少以未可推敲之理性论辩作其信仰之基，彼尊奉传说之权威与正典之解释，抱一恐惧与信心并存之态度，期待此一命定临近之事；且其内心固存一庄严信念：帝国所被之每一灾殃皆为现世大限将至之确实征兆(111)。

〔异教徒当受永世之惩罚〕

仅因彼不知或不信神之真理，即加诸异教徒中最具智慧与德操最高之人以罪谴，似已有违现下之理性及人道观念(112)。然则原初基督教会自具一种远为坚定一致之信仰，毫无犹豫即将此世之人底绝大部分付诸永恒之惩罚。苏格拉底或其余远古贤哲，因其身居福音普世之前、仅得邀理性之助，或尚存一线宽容之望(113)。然自基督诞生及殉难后，倘犹有墨守魔鬼之信仰者，基督教会乃一致认定渠不可亦不得自神之忿怒裁断获致宽宥。此种古所未闻之严峻观点，似于基督教之仁爱和谐体系中，平添一严苛意味。如是，既有之血缘及友谊关连时有因信仰差异而崩坏；而此世仍遭异教徒权势压服之基督徒，或有自溺于来世胜利之远景者，时而忿恨难平，时而洋洋得意。“你们喜好大场面”，严峻的德尔图良疾呼曰，“然则俟裁定此世永久命运之最终审判来临，又将是何等场面！余当何其惊叹，何其欢笑，何其快慰，何其雀跃！余将见诸多显赫底君王，与幻构底神，呻吟于黑暗之最底层；曾迫害基督之名底各省巡抚，当熬煎于烈火，其势之猛远甚彼等当权之日用以烧灼基督徒之烈火；诸多巧猾底哲人与其受惑之门徒，于烈火光焰中满面羞赧；一众有名之诗人非在米诺斯之判座，而在基督底裁决前战战兢兢；而一般悲剧演员，及其抒发彼亲身底痛楚，其声当更嘹亮；众多舞者……”此位狂热底阿非利加教父犹以诸多虚骄冷酷之隽语大话地狱之景象，然则为读者人道起见，余姑且引述至此、匿去其他(114)。

〔时有因恐惧而改宗〕

然则诸原初基督徒中，必尚存众多性情与其信仰之温和慈爱契合之人。众多教徒于其友人及同胞所遭之祸患，抱一种真挚同情，彼自施其慈悲心肠，拯其人脱出将至之毁败。大意之多神教徒，当其为始料未及之新恐怖所袭，而彼之祭司与哲人尚不得加诸确实之防御于此，则时有为永世痛苦之威胁所震慑、屈服者。彼之恐惧或有助于信仰与理性之渐进；而倘其自觉基督之宗教或为真理，则自当易于确信基督教乃其可资改宗之最可靠与最明智教派。

原因之三：原初教会之超凡法力

或有人曰，基督徒在此世即具一种超凡法力，出乎常人之上，此说固足以令其徒众诚信如意，亦时见于判定异教徒罪孽之际。上帝为宗教仪典起见，间或有亲为干涉、暂止自然法则运行之事；除此而外，基督教会肇自使徒与其初代弟子底时代起(115)，即自谓别具诸种超凡法力，具通晓诸种语言、先见与预言之力，具驱魔、医病与起死回生之力，世代相继不绝。爱任纽之同辈人中，时有见得神授而通异邦言语者，虽则及爱任纽本人向高卢土著宣讲福音，仍常坐化方言之困(116)。神之灵感，或传于白昼幻景，或诉诸黑夜梦境，皆被述作慷慨恩典，普赐诸阶级之信众，如妇女、耆老、幼稚及主教。及其虔敬之心已经一套祷告、禁食并守夜之仪典，可资奉迎此非凡冲动，彼等信众乃心荡神移，口诉通灵之喜，势同圣灵之喉舌，其状或如管笛、吹奏皆由人(117)。吾辈或可附带说明，此种幻景之意旨多在公示教会之未来历史，抑或助力现下之运作。世间有不运之人，身为魔鬼所附、多被折磨；为彼驱魔除祟，亦成宗教之一常规然而显著底胜利，并为古之护教士断言作基督教真理之最可信证据，如是再三。此种骇人之驱鬼仪式常见于一般公众之所，操演于万目睽睽之下；病患之苦痛因驱魔者之法力与道术而被纾缓，魔鬼则遭降伏，听众尚可闻其自供：彼本属远古之伪神，惯于亵渎神圣、僭窃世人之崇信(118)。且吾辈尚可忆及，爱任纽在世之日，时正当2世纪之末，死人复活于其时亦属一平常事；倘有所需，彼处之教会时有特施大斋与普祷，以显奇迹，而受祝复生之人其后尚可续命多年(119)；如是，则倘有以奇术愈宿疾异症之类，或不以为惊。当是时，信仰以种种超乎死亡之迹自诩，然，犹有秉持怀疑主义之哲人，于复活教义存一拒斥讥诮之态，何其怪哉。曾有一高贵底希腊人于此问题生出一整论争，彼尝许诺于安提阿主教提阿非罗，倘能亲见一人确可起死回生，彼当立时皈依基督教。吾辈或当注目，提阿非罗贵为东方行省最初教会之尊长，渠虽操切友人之改宗，然于此公平合理之挑战，仍取明哲婉谢之态度(120)。

〔其真实性之争论〕

原初教会之神迹颇被认可，历时有年矣，而今辄遭一自由明敏底探究之攻讦(121)；此一探究固已被公众普遍赞许，然其在吾邦之神学家及欧陆别种新教教会中，则收致一致非议(122)。吾辈于此问题之相异看法，较少受某一特定论点之影响；个中关键，乃在研究并思维习惯之有差，以及吾辈向时习见之验证灵异事件底证据翔实与否。

〔界定奇迹时代尚存困惑〕

史家依其职分，或不宜加诸私议于此微妙重大之论争，然彼于采信一意图调和信仰与理性二端底利益之理论，以及恰当应用此理论，界定一别无过失、更少欺诈之幸福时代——吾辈或恐归其功于超凡底恩赐——底确切界限，所必被之困难，实应开诚布公。自最初之教父以迄最终之教皇，代代相继之主教、圣徒、殉道者及奇迹绳绳不绝；迷信之渐进约徐徐若此，难得省察，是使吾辈难于确知当自何种特殊环节截断此传说之链。每一世代皆得见证空前绝后之奇异事件，且此见证之重要度及可信处毫不逊于前代之奇迹。倘吾辈于8世纪之尊者比德及12世纪之圣师伯尔纳铎底事迹之坚信，未得与向时慷慨加诸2世纪底查士丁与爱任纽之坚信等量齐观(123)，则必当陷于矛盾之境，因之自谴。设若此类神迹之真实度可鉴定自面相之实用及得体与否，则每一世代亦存众多不信者辄须说服，众多异端论辄须驳斥，崇信偶像之外族亦须改宗皈依；且任一时代皆存充足之理，以验上天之施法理否应当。然则乐见神启者已然叹服于超凡法力之既存，崇尚理性者尚且确信法力已然中绝，如是，吾辈可断言史上必存一世代，当此际，超凡法力自基督教会中突然或徐渐消散。至于此世代，无论其存乎使徒弃世之际，皇帝皈依之时，抑或阿里乌派异端湮灭之末(124)，及吾辈目其时基督徒之昧然无知，皆亦得起惊讶之感。及彼丧失其超凡法力，彼犹以此能力自居，虚张声势。是使轻信僭窃信仰之职；盲信乃得袭圣灵感召之语，而偶然事故甚或人为造作之果，竟被归诸超自然之因。而新近所见真实奇迹之经验，或可开导彼基督教世界辨识天道，使其眼光（倘若吾辈用一不甚合宜之表达）熟稔“天工”之风格。倘使近世意大利最富巧工之画师胆敢冒拉斐尔、科雷乔之名(125)，署于其拙劣仿作之上，此无耻骗局必速遭揭穿，被公众之愤慨拒斥。

〔原初奇迹之施行〕

2世纪与3世纪之基督信徒自存一种显著底柔和性格，不事抗拒，固其于使徒时代后原初基督教会之奇迹虽抱不同见地，然究能于真理及宗教之起因，存些许别样助益。近世以来，纵为最虔敬之性情，亦常伴有一潜藏甚或自然而然底怀疑主义。世人于超凡真理之认可，不特为积极之赞成，甚或仅冷淡而被动，姑妄从之。吾辈之理性，或至少吾辈之想象，长久来惯于观察及尊重恒常之自然秩序，是以甚难遽然认可神之显明行动。然则当基督教传播之初，世人之状况甚为不同。异教徒中最富好奇或最易轻信之人，时有受劝参加一自谓其具超凡法力之团契。原初之基督徒常得自立于神秘之壤，其思维惯于轻信最超凡不经之事由。彼时而自觉或幻想其身为四方之魔鬼所袭，固得收慰藉于幻景，获训导乎预言，依教会之祷告，侥幸脱出危险、病患与死亡。彼时而自认作诸确实或假想底奇迹之受事者、施事者或见证者，因之乐信教会史上凿然有据之奇迹，顺理成章、更具公道。如是，诸种未逾固有经验之奇迹已得启发其信心，使渠认可超乎理解力之上底神秘物事。此种超自然真理所遗之深刻印象，当其被信仰之名，竟可得赞美若此——此种精神状态，或曰即为神之恩典并未来福祉之最可靠保证，并被指作基督徒之首要或唯一功德。依更为严谨底众博士之见，异教徒虽亦得践行诸伦理德性，然此种德性于吾辈基督徒释罪之业，既无价值、亦乏功效。

原因之四：首批基督徒之德性

然则原初之基督徒，究以其德性彰其信仰；公允论之，神之劝导既已启示或压服人之头脑，则其亦必纯化信众之内心，指导其行为，不必有差。为教友底清白作辩护之最初基督教护教士，与稍后褒赞彼先辈圣德之作者，皆以生动底文笔，夸耀福音传布于世间之移风易俗功效。然余之本意仅在评论助长天启影响之人事原因，故在此仅简略提及两种动因，冀其或使原初基督徒之生活较其同代异教徒或身后之堕落传人更为纯净与俭朴；此种动因，一则为彼常因其过往原罪而忏悔，再则为渠维护所参团契名誉之可敬意愿。

〔彼等忏悔之效用〕

不信教者因其无知或怨恨，尝责基督徒引诱最凶恶之罪犯入其团契，鼓噪有年矣。依其所述，此辈罪人甫一显其感悔，即易受基督徒之所劝，于受洗之圣水中荡涤向来罪过；而别种神之庙堂，断不至轻许忏悔、宽宥若此。然俟误传得被澄清，此一非难辄益增教会之威望，并有加信众之数(126)。基督教之教友自可坦然承认，诸多有名圣徒，受洗之前尚为最堕落之罪人。而此世间凡心怀仁爱、礼数合宜之人，纵其所行偶有偏差，犹自目存心方正，颇有泰然自得之感；而外于诸激烈之情如羞辱、忧戚并恐惧之所袭，不至遽然改宗。是故传布福音之教士乃效法基督之例，于诸尝为不义、今已悔悟，或因自食其果方得自谴之人——尤其妇人，绝不抱鄙弃之态。及彼脱出罪孽并迷信，向往荣耀底永生，彼自当专尚善行与忏悔，终生不渝。成至善之热望已成渠灵魂之至要旨趣；而众所周知，理性所含者不外冷淡底庸常，激情则得以奔放之暴力，驱策世人于一极端易辙，奔诸彼端。

〔爱惜名誉〕

及新近皈依之徒得厕身信徒之列，入教堂而参圣礼，彼始察渠已为一别种关心所束。此种关心宗教之气或稍淡，然纯净可敬，当令彼不致重陷向时之混乱。任一特定团契，及其脱出民族之大体或所属之宗教，立时被公众之目，遭嫉妒之诽。因信众之数尚少，此团契之声名益系于任一成员之行止；每一信徒皆于自身之行抱最谨慎底留意，并推及同教兄弟，因其既冀望同享殊荣，自愿共担羞耻。比提尼亚之基督徒尝被提至小普林尼之刑庭，当是时，渠向此总督保证：彼身被一庄严职分，不可犯偷盗、抢劫、通奸、作伪证及欺诈等诸妨害社会公私安定之行(127)，又何得插足任一违法阴谋？其后近百年，德尔图良尚理直气壮，夸称基督徒除宗教原因外，甚少死于刑吏刀斧(128)。此辈信众生活严正隐逸，深恶时人之骄奢逸乐，惯于贞洁、克己、俭朴及一切端重齐家之德。盖因多数教徒以某一手艺或行业为生，彼实应严守诚信、交易公平，达于其极，方得祛除世俗之人于高洁之行时有底疑惧。时人之鄙夷令其徐渐养成谦卑、温和并隐忍之习。当其遭迫害，团契之情反得益增。其众彼此之慈爱忠信由是尝得异教徒之注目，亦时有为背信弃义之徒所僭窃者(129)。

〔教父之德操〕

原初基督徒之德操确有其可敬之处，渠亦有过失与错误，然多出诸过度之善行。教会之主教与博士底宣言、原则并实践已为时人添一有德之见证，其权威亦有助于感化俗众。彼等研习圣经全凭诚敬，甚少私智；彼等时有逐字逐句、秉承基督与使徒之戒律者，其拘谨若此，而后世之注疏者多智虑明达，诠释散漫、引喻丰富。热忱之教父自抱一种雄心，欲使福音之尽善超乎哲学底智慧之上，乃躬行禁欲、清净与忍耐诸义，其境界之高、意志之坚，实非吾辈现下萎靡腐化之光景所能及。如此超凡升华之教义自不免为大众所尊崇，然究难于为俗世之哲学家所赞同；后者寄身此忽然浮生，所思者得难外于自然之识觉并社会之利益(130)。

〔人性诸原理〕

世人最良善宏达之天性中，或存二种自然之趋向，其一但好玩赏，其二则求事功。前者倘能得艺文与学术之陶冶，人事及社交之精进，并于理财、健康、名誉诸端修正规矩，必可得个人生活之最大幸福。至于求事功者，则别存一种气力更盛、性质可疑之本义。及其行也，常得滋生忿怒、野心与报复；然倘能节其以礼、导之以仁，必成万般德行之母。更有甚者，倘此德行能得相副之才华底襄助，则齐家、治国、平天下之业，虽匹夫之勇亦可致矣。如是，吾辈或可将一众温良可亲之德归诸好玩赏，而将大般济世可亲之德归之于好事功。倘此二德能兼具齐备、和谐共生，似必为人性之最完美理念。而麻木不仁、消极无为之性情，因其似未得具二德之任一，则为人类公意所不取，盖因其既不得为个人求快乐，复不得为世人谋永福。然则原初之基督徒，则殊不愿令彼于此世成一可亲或有用之人。

〔原初基督徒谴责享乐与奢侈〕

世间旷达之士皆得享闲暇之乐，或优游于求知问道之途，或锤炼其理性感性诸思维，亦可言谈无拘，实乃快人心意。而严肃底教父，于此消遣或深恶痛绝，或敬而远之。凡知识不得稍助于“获救”者，彼皆抱鄙视；至于言谈轻浮，更属滥用言语之才，等同罪孽。吾辈视当下之景况，自认为灵魂之存在与肉体不可稍分，是故倘得以纯然节制之道安享灵魂亦可感知之肉身愉悦，犹不失为人间生趣所在。然则虔敬底先辈所见殊为不同；彼时有事无用之功，竟欲模仿天使之完美，鄙弃或佯装鄙弃一切尘世并肉身之乐(131)。实则人生在世，诸感官皆有其用度，或为享寿延祚，或为自立于世，或为求取知识；是以倘欲弃其不用，固属枉然。然则众教父乃一意孤行，其视愉悦之初作感官滥用之始，教其徒众不仅拒斥味觉并嗅觉之习见诱惑，且于异教之音乐亦当塞耳，于人类最精巧之艺术亦当漠视；是使入天堂之预定人选，悉已无知无觉。华丽底衣装，堂皇底屋室，考究底陈设，此皆兼具骄奢与淫逸之双重罪恶：基督徒因固信原罪之说、忧惧于不能得救赎，乃适于过一种简单朴素底生活。且教父于应谴之奢侈物，所列甚为苛细(132)；此类激其义愤底物事中，吾辈可列举假发、各色服装（白色例外）、乐器、金银花瓶、鸭绒枕头（因雅各以石为枕(133)）、白面包、外国酒、社交套话、热水浴及剃须之习——依德尔图良所言，剃须是对吾辈面容之欺骗，亦是变更造物主之作底不敬企图(134)。而俟基督教传入富贵阶层后，尚得坚守此非常法则之人已局限于意图超凡入圣底极少数，一如今日。然则人类之低下阶层，肇因命运外其于浮华享乐之外，自是易于并乐得宣称自具一种视金钱如粪土之美德。是故原初基督徒之德行，多因贫穷并无知所致，一如早期罗马人底历史。

〔彼等于婚姻及贞洁问题之见地〕

至于两性交往一事，众教父固持一严苛底贞洁观，其缘由亦出诸同一原则；彼深恶任一取悦肉欲之乐，以其或降格人之灵性。彼乐于称述，倘亚当固守上帝之严命、长存忠顺，其人将终生得葆童贞，而一无罪与永生之族群终将觅得无害之繁衍方式，以长居天国、枝繁叶茂(135)。婚姻之用度仅许诸亚当之堕落后人，作为延续人类之权宜手段，以及约束自然情欲之对策（虽则不甚完善）。正统派智术师于此一有趣问题时见犹疑，或暗示世人于一辄须容忍、而又难于赞同之制度，常抱之窘态(136)。倘罗列彼等为夫妻同床强订之事无巨细、异想天开底法条，几可令少年捧腹、美人含羞。此辈圣徒一致认定：一次婚姻即可满足自然并社会之全部目的。彼复将夫妻肉体之结合比附作基督与教会之神秘联合，断言此一结合既不可离异、复不得因死亡而隔绝。再婚之习被冠以“合法通奸”之骂名；倘有人胆敢犯下此种玷污基督教纯洁之可耻罪行，彼当立时被剥夺教会之荣耀，甚至革出教门(137)。盖因欲望既被归诸罪恶，而婚姻亦属一种不足，则据此原理，独身自成达致神圣完满之一大捷径。古罗马欲常葆六贞女为祭司以奉灶神，亦属极难之事(138)；而原初教会中固存一众男女人等，为教忘身、终生禁欲(139)。其中之少数——或包含博学的奥利金——认定此举可令魔鬼无计可施，最是精明(140)。及肉欲来袭，或有浑然不察者，亦多不可征服者。阿非利加温暖地带之贞女鄙弃不战而逃之丑行，愿与肉欲大敌短兵相接；彼与祭司并执事同卧一榻，贞洁未遭玷污，辄可自得于此出欲火而不染之荣光。然则自然之性既被此折辱，不免亦时有张其权限，因此而殉道之新范例，不过为教会添一桩伤风败俗之丑闻耳(141)。然则基督教之苦修者（此一称谓得自其痛苦的修炼过程）多具审慎之德，是以较能成正果。肉体欢娱之缺可因精神满足之情而得补足。纵为信奉异教之俗众，亦因此牺牲之殊显不易，于其价值不致轻慢；而众教父亦仅在赞颂此辈基督之贞洁信徒时，方得口若悬河、显其辩才(142)。以上即为苦修原则与制度之早先遗迹，后世之年，此种原则时见与基督教之世俗利益作一角力(143)。

〔彼等厌恶战争及政治事务〕

较之厌恶现世享乐一事，基督徒之恶俗世事务，并无分毫相差。彼固知宽恕之道，亦知循此道者当不念旧恶、不惧新侮，然何以令此恕道与护其体肤、保其家财之事协调妥帖，则实为渠所不知。世人之滥发宣誓、官吏之浮华排场、公众生活之勾心斗角，每为渠淳朴心智所不能忍；渠亦存一种仁慈底无知，使其难于接受任一人世同胞之就戮竟可为合法，而无分其事出诸正义之行或兵火之隳；纵有歹徒与敌国欲加害于全方公民之和平并安全，亦不可行杀戮(144)。此辈基督徒固承认，当此不甚完满底人间法之世，昔年曾有犹太政制应天之许，由通灵之先知并受膏底君王(145)践行其权。彼亦察觉并认可此类政制或为当下之世界所必需，是以甘心臣服于异教总督之权力。然则其人虽被灌输以消极服从之信条，彼仍得拒绝于帝国之民事并军备事宜中作任一主动进取。倘其为改宗之异教徒，于皈依基督前已涉足此血腥暴力之业，或可稍被宽恕(146)；倘生而为基督徒，竟欲于护持其神圣职责之际，复担一兵士、巡抚或君王之责，则绝无可能(147)。此辈信众于公共福利，固持此怠惰乃至可堪判罪之漠视态度，是以常被异教徒蔑视并申斥；异教徒或时有质问：倘海内之民皆得采此新一教派之怯懦主张，则四方之蛮族来袭时，帝国之命运又将何如(148)？对此种无理之质问，基督教护教士仅得以晦暗不明之答语自辩，其殊不愿透露个中不可示人之因：彼预期不待全人类普遍皈依基督教，战争、政府、罗马帝国及此岸世界已皆不复存在矣，而基督徒乃得享独占之安全。自此类问题中或可发现，原初基督徒之处境与其宗教顾虑甚为契合；彼于积极生活之恶感多令彼免于公共之役，而未尝褫夺其尽力国是、挥戈出征所获之荣。

原因之五：教会治理中活跃之基督徒

然则，人之性情虽可因一时之热忱而高下起伏，其终得徐渐复归于常理及自然之境，终得令激越之情与现下之事妥为契合。原初之基督徒于俗世事务并欢娱皆心如止水；然其终未全然得脱于事功之爱好。此种好事功之心转瞬复燃，得其新场域于教会之治理中。教会固为一独立社团，其于帝国固有之国教常加鞭挞，为自存起见，不免须采用一种形式之内部政策，并委任数目充足之员司；此辈员司非独掌控基督教共同体之精神职能，亦得担当其世俗指导。纵为最虔敬之信徒，为保此社团之安全、荣耀并壮大，亦得滋生一热爱教会之心，一如早年罗马人爱其共和国之心；其状几与俗世之人为达目的、无所不用其极之态无异。此辈信徒自怀一种野心，欲使彼自身或彼之亲友均沾教会之尊荣与高职，然其尚文饰此心以堂皇之意图，四下游说：彼所以欲掌其权、任其事，仅为使此权力与思虑全般贡献于公众福祉。及渠践行其职，自当时时受命追查异端之邪说与宗派之行止，抵制不忠信徒之阴谋，令此乱党得被恶名加身，将其革出教门、使之不得扰乱社团之安宁与福祉。基督徒之神职领袖曾被教诲当“灵巧像蛇，驯良像鸽子”(149)；然则及蛇之灵巧于统治习性之历练中益得精进，鸽之驯良亦徐渐为其崩坏。凡掌公职者，倘其得能言善辩、行事坚定，复能长于知人、行事圆滑，自当为人注目，在教会与俗世皆然；倘其尚隐匿彼行为之秘密动因，非独不愿示人、甚至不愿示己，则自当时时堕于急于事功之狂暴激情中，此种激情肇因宗教热忱之侵渐，益添一种怨憎与顽固。

〔教会原初之自由与平等〕

教会之治理常得为宗教斗争之核心，亦常为其目标。罗马、巴黎、牛津之诸敌对论战者，皆欲将教会底原初与使徒风之样式(150)变更为渠自觉合宜之形式。少数学人曾以直白公正之态度考察此问题，彼之观点如下(151)：众使徒曾放弃立法职权，彼宁愿忍受不公之诽谤与分裂，亦不愿令后世基督徒失诸依时代及环境变化，自行变更教会统治形式之自由。依使徒之许可，此一政策曾见行于1世纪，于耶路撒冷、以弗所及哥林多之向例中或可窥得。罗马帝国城市中创建之教友团体初则仅以信仰并仁爱之纽带相系。独立与平等自成其内在准则之基础。至于训诫与人世知识之所需，则凭先知之临时掖助以补足(152)。应天所召之先知不分年龄、性别与天赋才能，及其感上帝之意，辄当于信众集会中倾吐圣灵之启示。然则此种超凡之恩赐常为先知教师所滥用或误施。彼等于不当之时宜显此法力，肆意扰乱集会之议程，并藉其自傲与误施之狂热，引致一漫长并可悲底混乱，以哥林多之使徒教会为尤甚(153)。俟先知之职能趋于无益、甚或有害，其权势乃被撤销，职能亦被废止。宗教之公共职能，悉已付与教会之既定员司，即主教与长老；此二职称以其渊源论，似用作区分担当同一职分与阶级之人。所谓“长老”者，自是显其年长，甚或尊贵与智慧过人。至于“主教”之名，则表其人当检视彼牧养之教区所辖底基督徒之信仰与仪礼。依各教区信众之不等人数，遂有数目参差之主教长老，依平等之权限与协同之会商，引领此初创之教众团体(154)。

〔作为长老会议主席底主教之设置〕

然则，纵其为完满无差之自由，亦须一上级官长底直接领导；而公众会商之规则，须臾已引入主席之职，授彼以采集众议、执行大会决议一类职分。虑及公众之安定或时将为每年一度抑或不定期之选举所扰，为存此安宁，原初基督徒乃设立一崇高永久之官长职位，自众长老中遴选一最富智慧、最具神圣之人，使其终身担当此教会长官之职。如是之后，“主教”此一高尚头衔乃得高踞于“长老”底谦卑称谓之上；后者仍得为基督教长老会议每一成员之自然名谓，而前者之称谓乃单施于此会议新设之尊贵主席(155)。此一主教中心之治理形式大抵始自1世纪之末(156)，其优点固已彰显明白，于基督教未来之伟大并当下之安宁亦属重要，是以立时为遍布帝国之全般信徒团契所采纳，且早已得古时贤人底嘉许(157)。及至今日，此一体制仍得为东西方最有权势之教会所敬畏，目其为原初、甚或神赐之制(158)。毋庸赘言，此辈虔诚谦卑之长老虽已被主教之名，亦不得并不愿收受今日罗马教宗或德意志主教之赫赫权势，不得炫其重冠玄冕之丽。然则吾辈犹可略述其最初权限之极狭界限，此界固以精神领域为主，或亦有关乎世俗事情者(159)。其要目大抵为掌理圣礼并教规，督办数目与种类皆已徐渐增长之宗教仪典，祝圣教会职司并指派其所担之责，司掌公共资金，以及裁断信徒间一切不愿对簿于俗世公堂之纠纷。在一时期内，此种权力乃依长老会议之建议及基督徒大会底一致认可而行。原初之主教不过为众人中较居前列者及自由民之可敬公仆。及此主教不禄、其席虚悬，全般教众乃自诸长老中选一新主席为继，而众长老中任一成员皆自视为神授意旨、可充圣职底备选(160)。

〔行省会议〕

使徒去世后百余年间，基督徒即受治于此温文而平等之政制下。每一团契自成一独立自足之共和国；纵为相隔万里之小邦，亦得存文书往来之亲、信使交通之睦，全般基督教世界未及立一至高权威，亦未得为一立法会议所连结。及信众之数与日俱增，彼乃察觉倘得将其利益与设计结合更密，其利当愈大。是以至2世纪末，希腊与亚细亚之教会乃采用行省会议之有效制度；公允视之，此一代表会议之形式或系借自彼乡向时之有名成例，如邻保同盟、亚该亚同盟及爱奥尼亚城邦大会(161)。各独立教会底主教当于春秋两季指定之时日聚会于行省首府，卒成一习俗并法规。彼之商议得二三知名长老建议之襄助，亦受旁听会众在场之节制(162)。彼之敕令得被“教规”之名，据此可裁判信仰与惩戒之一切争议；大众亦乐于信服：圣灵将不吝启示于此基督徒代表之联席会议。此种宗教会议之制，一则合于个人野心，再则有助公众福祉，是以数年之间即得遍行于帝国全境。

〔教会之联合〕

各行省之宗教会议间亦得建立定期通信，互通往来、认可彼此之议程；如是，大公教会俄而已具一大联邦共和国之架构与力量(163)。

〔主教权力之发达〕

及各教会自具之立法权限徐渐为宗教会议所替，众主教乃凭其联盟得一更大底行政并仲裁权限；且俟其为一共同利益之意识所系，即得以合众之势侵犯教士与信众之固有权利。

至3世纪，高阶教士向时底劝勉之语已然嬗变为命令之训，后世篡权之因，于彼时固已初具；其尚借用《圣经》之寓言并浮夸底修辞，以补力量与原理之所缺。彼亦高抬主教之职底名目，以其可代表教会之团结与权势，因之每一主教皆得享此平等不可分权势之一部(164)。世人时有云，王侯将相坐拥普天之土、把持俗世之权，以之自矜：然独有主教之权一项由天所授，不独囿于此世，亦可延至彼岸。众主教乃基督之摄政，使徒之继任，与摩西律法中大祭司之神秘替身(165)。彼独秉除授圣职之特权，固已侵害一般教士及信众自由参选之权；且倘其于教会行政中尚得折节谦恭、咨询长老底意见并大众之舆情，渠必以此自发之谦逊德行自矜，大事宣扬不已。众主教固认可至高之权尚掌于信众全体之大会；然其于所辖教区之管制，则强求彼羊群之绝对服从，一如彼牧养之众真为绵羊，且此牧人较其羊群性更尊贵(166)。然则强加此种顺服既非唾手可得，亦非无人抵抗。教会章程之民主要件固得一般心地热忱、或心存异议底低阶教士之热烈拥护，可见于多处。然其爱教之诚辄被诬以党同伐异、分裂教会之恶名。至于一众活跃教长，如迦太基的西普里安之类，则得将最富野心底政客之艺术与圣徒及殉道者形象可堪之基督徒美德协调一致(167)；此种努力于主教制度迅速扩展之因，实有助力焉。

〔大都教会之显赫〕

初时损毁长老平等地位之因，尚得令众主教享一显赫地位，由是更滋生权限之增长。每逢春秋之际，众主教会晤于一省之大会，各人才智之分、声望之别，辄可为与会之众所察；而此夥夥之众，终得为少数精英底学识并辩才所挟。然则公共议事之程序终须一较合常规、殊少偏颇底特性；而各省宗教会议底终身主席之职，终得授予该省首府之主教；此辈汲汲于功名之高阶教士，既已轻取“都主教”“大主教”之堂皇头衔，乃更作筹谋，欲自彼同阶之都主教弟兄手中，篡夺其新近方自长老会手中僭取之权限(168)。时隔不久，都主教中乃兴起一种地位并权势之竞争，彼之每一人皆得凭虚情浮饰，自矜其所辖城市之现世荣誉并优势；所牧养教众之众多与富裕；教众中涌现之圣徒与殉道者；以及此辈圣人赖以护持信仰传统所依之纯净。此一传统始自初创教会之使徒并使徒门生，经一众正教主教之传承、方得至此(169)。自俗世之情与教会之性，皆不难预见罗马势将得一般之尊重，继而令诸行省敬恐臣服。

〔罗马教宗之野心〕

罗马之信徒团契与其帝国首都之身位至为相称；此地之教会规模最盛、人数最多，乃西方世界众基督徒机构中年岁最古者，而其余团契亦多有仰罗马传教士之虔敬事工，故而皈依者。安提阿、以弗所及哥林多之教会，至多可凭其由某一使徒所创，自矜自是；而台伯河两岸之地竟得独占最富名望底使徒二人之布道并殉道，实属殊荣(170)。由是，罗马之主教乃慎重宣明：凡属使徒彼得之身与其职分底一切特权，悉已为罗马教会所继承(171)。而意大利及其余行省之主教，亦乐得认可其于基督教之上层建筑中别居一种排序与组织底首位（实情也正是如此）(172)。然则君上之权时有为憎恶所拒，而罗马教会底勃勃野心亦得遭亚细亚与阿非利加之族底有力顽抗；彼于此精神统治之抵抗，其势更甚于向时抵御罗马军团底领土侵占。西普里安天性义烈，全权统辖迦太基之教会及该省宗教会议，彼起而抵御罗马教宗之野心，既具决心、亦富成效。渠乃巧施勾连，使其自有之目标与东方众主教之目标合于一端；又效法汉尼拔故事，于亚细亚之中心觅得全新盟友(173)。此一“新布匿战争”(174)未尝流血千里，实因争斗双方皆弱于武力耳，远非其行止节制。两股教会仅有之兵戈为诅咒谩骂与革出教门；论战发达之全过程中，彼乃遍施此兵戈于其仇雠，全情投入、怒不可遏。此二端宗教盟主于论战中之忿怒无制，与元老院之骂仗、宿营中之丘八几无二致(175)。是使今日之正教徒于述及此论战底细节之际，常感亟须责难一教宗或殉道者之行，颇为苦恼。

〔平信徒与圣职者〕

教会威权之演进终得获致平信徒与圣职者之显著差异，此实为希腊及罗马共和时代之人所未闻(176)。平信徒之名下包含基督教信众底大部；而“圣职者”依其字面含义解，单指一类额外分出、专行宗教事务之人；此辈声名卓著之士自成现代历史最重要之主题，虽则远非时时富于启迪。诸圣职者之互目仇雠，或于此初生教会之安宁时有淆乱，然其热忱与主动终因效相同之业、好相同之权而得合一；此热爱权势之情（以最巧猾之伪装）伏于众主教及殉道者之心，驱策其增益信众教友之数、拓展教会帝国之界。其虽见乏于现世力量，且坐罗马巡抚之困，迭遭阻挠、屡被压制、未见援手，历时有年；然彼亦于其自成之团体中，收致二种最有效底统治工具——赏与罚；前者得自虔诚徒众底捐献，后者源出衷心信教之敬畏。

〔教会之捐献与岁入〕

原初教会之共产体制颇令柏拉图心驰神往(177)，此一体制存世不过须臾，于苦修之艾赛尼派教众间方可觅得雪泥鸿爪(178)。此辈早期皈依者秉其热忱，遍售渠鄙夷之俗世资财，奉所得价款于使徒之手，而自足于平均分配所匀之份(179)。然俟有心地不纯、远逊于十二使徒之辈司掌财权，渠天性中之自私成分俄而回潮，捐献制度辄为其毁败滥用。是以基督之教虽日渐发达，共产之制则迭遭毁弛、渐趋消亡。而后世皈依此教之信众乃得保全其世袭之产，收受遗产与遗物，且以一切合法之贸易与产业手法、增值其私财。福音教会之执事亦不复求取信众底全般资产，彼转而收受适当比例之捐献；俟每月或每周之集会，每一信众乃视事之缓急与个人资财、虔敬之有异，自行乐捐，充作公共基金之用(180)。其数虽细亦不得弃。然则教会亦谆谆诱人曰：摩西律法所载之什一税(181)条款，于今犹得为神圣义务；昔时，上古犹太人所受之教远非完满，犹获旨捐出十分之一底所得，今日之基督信众更应慷慨捐献较多之财，以显其虔敬(182)。继而此类浮财终将与尘俗之世共被毁弃，时日无多矣，未若献之于教会、求取阴德(183)。毋庸赘言，每一单独教会之岁入常无定数，多赖于教众之贫富分别；乡野之地信众零散，则其教会也寡也贫；通都大邑教友群集，则其教会乃足乃富。德基乌斯帝在位时，各行省巡抚认定罗马之基督徒资财颇为可观，彼之宗教祭仪时以金银器皿为盛，复有一众信徒遍售其土地房屋、加增教会共有之财富；此辈信众自当成其圣徒，而渠不运之子女辄被所害，一夜沦落为丐(184)。当是时，局外人之揣测、敌对邦之腹诽，本不可轻加置信；然则于此问题一端，固已具下述二种数据精确、概念明晰之范例，为吾辈所周知，是以前述之说，或不为妄断、而较具可能。同在德基乌斯之世，迦太基主教忽而召告信众，令其募集善款、赎回为北非沙漠中蛮族所俘之努米底亚弟兄，立时得十万塞斯退斯之数（合今日的850英镑以上）；而迦太基之教众于资财底余裕尚不及罗马(185)。在德基乌斯君临前约百年，罗马教会自一欲往首都定居之本都省来客处，即得巨额捐赠一笔，其数达二十万塞斯退斯(186)。此种捐献多为现金，其因乃在基督徒之团契不欲、亦无力承当大宗地产之负累。彼时，尘世之君固已颁布与今日之“永久产业管理法”相仿底众律例，曰：倘无皇帝或元老院之特许与豁免，任一不动产不得捐献或遗赠予任何团体(187)。而皇帝与元老于基督之教，先则侮以轻慢，后又既惧且妒，自无意轻许此种特惠。然则亚历山大·塞维鲁帝在位时，或有案例曰：此种桎梏时有可被规避、抑或暂且中止者，而基督徒乃得索取及占有罗马本城中之土地(188)。嗣后基督教之发达日盛，而帝国之内乱亦增，严刑峻法渐趋废弛；是以至3世纪末叶，罗马、米兰、迦太基、安提阿、亚历山大里亚与意大利及其他行省之大都教会已然获赠众多可观之地产。

〔岁入之分配〕

主教为教会之当然管事；公款悉由其司掌，既无账目，亦无监督；众长老固已囿于灵界之务，执事阶层更乏实权，仅得涉足常项岁入之管理并分配(189)。倘西普里安激越之雄辩为确，则渠之阿非利加弟兄间，任事全然悖于至善福音之教、亦悖于伦理德性之规底同工，可谓夥矣。此辈不忠之管事或倾教会之财于感官之乐；或付之于无道，凭其以增值私利、投机倒把、放数高利(190)。然则教民之捐献既出乎自愿、并无强制，则滥用其信之行自不可频仍，以免有损长远入项；而渠之进献亦多用作正途，令教会之荣光见增。一部适宜款项留供主教并圣职者日常用度；另拨足够之额用诸公共礼拜开支，而个中最能愉人之项，则为名唤agape之爱席(191)。至于此外剩余之数，则悉为贫者底神授之产，当依主教之裁夺，用以抚恤教区之鳏寡孤独、老弱病残；款待远来人并朝圣客，慰藉囚徒及战俘之苦，倘其苦痛乃因坚守信仰而起，则此慰藉尤有必要(192)。僻远行省之教会赖此慷慨互施而得交通，势单力寡之团契亦乐见富足弟兄底奥援(193)。此种制度之目的非是劝善赏功，乃在济难苏困，因之大有益于基督教之发达。异教徒中虽有讥诮是教之说者，然基于人道，亦承认此新教派之善行(194)。此种即时救济之报，与来日荫庇之望，得令世间诸多横遭疏忘，而罹求不得苦、病苦、老苦之人，欣然入于基督教殷勤之彀。同是出诸此因，吾辈尚可确信，昔时曾有众多依据非人道陋习、而为生身父母遗弃之婴孩，仰赖基督徒之慷慨并教会公款之资助，始得免于死亡，继而受洗、受教，终可自立于世(195)。

〔革出教门〕

凡一般社团，于成员中胆敢拒斥及违犯业已为公议所定之规章者，皆有无疑之权，将渠革出团体、剥夺福利。基督教会行使此权，其鹄的多为声名狼藉之罪人，尤以犯下谋杀、诈骗及淫乱之獠为最；至于业已为主教团体明令申斥之异端邪说，则无分始作俑者与徒众，皆得适用此条；倘有不运之人于受洗直后，复得自堕于偶像崇拜之行，则不论此举出乎本心、抑或不得已而为，皆须革出教门。此革出教门之举，兼具现世并精神之果。凡有被宣告革出教门者，不得分享信徒之任一捐献。同教之谊与私友之情，皆被消解；渠最抱尊敬之人及向时于其爱护备至之人，皆目渠为可憎之邪物；且因此人系为一可敬之团体所逐，渠之品行自被加诸“不名誉”之迹，而一般之人亦不免别生戒心，避而远之。此种不运之被逐者，境遇自是痛楚可悲；而其忧惧之心，尚逾乎痛苦之上。基督徒团契之福乃在永生；凡被逐者皆不得脱出此庄严震慑：为其定罪之教会管事，已然得天之授，司掌地狱并天堂之钥。出乎本心之异端者尚可自行其是，以“得救真意，惟我知之”一类希冀自娱，于其孤立之群体中，勉力恢复被革出教门后，无由再自基督徒大集体收致之属肉并属灵慰藉。然而倘其人并非出乎本心，不过一时失足、慑于邪灵或偶像崇拜之威权，自当察诸渠堕落之境，惴惴不安，意图重获基督徒团契之福利。

〔公开忏悔〕

至于此类悔过者之处置一事，原初教会中尚存二种别样意见，其一主厉行制裁，其二主宽大为怀。道德家自秉其严正固执，欲永拒此种一度玷污或背弃神圣团契之人重获平等身位，别无例外；渠欲令此辈常陷良心有亏底悔意，余生仅有之奢望乃在至死方休之痛悔或可为上帝接受(196)。至于教会中心地最洁、声望最隆之人，其感情与论据则较显温文(197)。依彼之见，背教者倘愿回心忏悔，宽恕与天堂之门并非时时紧闭；然则严峻庄重之纲纪既已在兹，悔过者自当依约涤清其罪，并大有助乎儆戒欲效其尤者。悔过者当于众目睽睽下谦卑认罪，斋戒竟日，蓬面布衣，匍匐于教会之门，含泪恳求赦免其罪，乞望信众代渠祷告(198)。倘其人之过已达“穷凶极恶”之境，则纵然忏悔经年，犹不得为神义所恕；世之罪人、异端及背教者，须藉由缓慢痛楚、循序渐进之悔罪，方得重归教会之中。然则设若有人犯下罪无可赦之罪，尤以悔过者中倘有辜负教会主事之慈悲，胆敢故态复萌、怙恶不悛者，则须被施以永久革出教门之惩。至于此种教会惩戒之行，则须依情节频率之异，经众主教而裁断。安西拉与伊利贝里斯地区主教会议约略召开于同时，其一在加拉太，其一在西班牙；然其各自订立之法典（至今尚存）似存相异之旨(199)。倘一加拉太人于受洗后复有献祭偶像之事、如是再三，则其忏悔七年即可得恕；倘其尚诱他人效此恶端，亦不过令被逐之期益增三年。然倘一不运底西班牙人犯下相同之罪，渠将永无得恕之望，虽死亦然；渠所犯崇拜偶像之罪列于其余十七项罪过之首，个中一切行止，所获之惩戒皆不逊于前者。此十七项中，吾辈尚可见“诽谤主教”、“攻击长老”甚至“污蔑执事”底不赦之罪(200)。

〔主教统治之威严〕

权常兼用，宽猛相济，赏罚分明，此教会之人性力量也。主教执仲父之尊而司天人两界，于此特权之重自是常怀于心；渠时以爱好秩序之堂皇托词，文饰一人之野心。至于践行教规，以防齐集于十字架幡下、其数日增之徒众稍有离弃之际，更不容些许质疑。吾辈可自西普里安自以为是之文告中自然察诸：有关革出教门及赎罪之教义已然为基督教之最基本成分；依其说，基督信徒蔑视主教之责难并权威者，远较不守道义者为可危。闻渠之言，吾辈或可设想发声之人实乃摩西，彼令大地开裂，以熊熊烈火吞没不服亚伦祭司之叛逆种族(201)；吾辈亦可设想，发生之人实为一罗马执政，彼以万钧之言张布共和国之尊严，宣示渠当以不挠底决心，伸张法律之威力。“乖谬正义，不禁不止”（此乃迦太基主教申斥其同工之宽宥时所言），“乖谬正义，听之任之，主教之威，势将不存(202)；司掌教会，本赖天威，违离道统，焉得天助；悲夫我教，亡于今朝！”或曰：西普里安于尘世之荣光，既未曾得之，自不复思之；然渠于所辖会众之良心理智，竟可得一全般操控，故其虽不为世人所解所敬，犹得自娱渠内心之骄傲，超乎仰赖武力与征服于心不悦之四民可得底专横权势之上。

〔五原因之再提要〕

探究基督教发达之因固属重大，亦不免失于烦冗；当此之先，余尚乐于自基督宗教底真理外，另觅助力良多之次等原因。此等原因中当不乏人工之文饰、偶见之特例、过失与过激之夹杂，盖人之自然既非完备，自易为此等动因所感。仰赖此五种动因——排他之热忱、于来世之现世期待、乐信奇迹、厉行德操及原初教会之体制——底襄助，基督教方得于罗马帝国疆域之内大见发达。因其排他底热忱，基督徒得获万夫莫敌之刚勇，其于当面之敌，惟思战胜、不屑投降；来世之期待、乐信奇迹之心并恪守德操之行，则成此刚勇之兵刃，其状凛然可畏；至于原初教会之体制，渠可聚信徒之勇气，指控其兵戈，加千钧之重于其既有底努力，得此助益，纵为小股精良勇猛之义兵，亦时可克制一众既不明战争之因、复昧于战事之果底乌合之众。

〔多神教之软弱〕

世间多神宗教夥矣。埃及与叙利亚之云游方士素以散播迷信、蛊惑大众为能，彼或为异教僧侣中仅存之别无志业(203)、单藉此道求取供养声名者，是以渠于所奉神之安泰繁盛，尚存较深底关切。至于罗马及诸外省之多神教执事，则以贵胄居多，彼既富于资财，不免视司掌一有名神庙、主持一公众祭仪为纯粹荣誉之举，是以常有自行出资、举办祭神赛会者(204)；至于古老底敬神礼，纵为彼国礼法习俗之必须，亦不免为其冷落。此辈教士平日自有俗世之务，单凭渠付诸宗教事务之兴趣并习惯，甚难收致全般热忱与虔敬。渠各掌分别之庙、各居相异之城，既乏规章约束，亦无统一管制；当其认可罗马元老院、大祭司团与皇帝之至高管权，各省巡抚即放任渠自敬其神、安宁尊贵之常情，颇以为然。由此，吾辈固已见此种多神教徒之宗教情绪，其烦杂苛碎、无规无矩、见异思迁，竟可如是。渠所谓“信”者，不过自委于一种迷信狂想，随波逐流、漫无边际；渠所谓“敬”者，亦不过视人生遭遇之偶然情形，白云苍狗、游移无定。盖其信仰变化无常若此，几已加诸千神百怪，倘得单择其一、心生诚笃坚信之情，岂不怪哉！

〔异教世界之怀疑论有利于此新宗教〕

俟基督之教现身于世，此种衰弱残缺之意念乃自失其固有底大般势力。人类理智虽难得凭自力辨识信仰之妙，及其得基督之助，已然轻取多神教之愚鲁。德尔图良与拉克唐修倾力揭批论敌之虚伪妄诞，为达此鹄的，渠乃求诸西塞罗之辩才与琉善底机巧。此二教父之怀疑论著声名远播、传布甚广，远超其固有之读者数目。而此不信伪神之风，乃自哲人传至优伶商贾，自贵胄传至布衣，自主人传至奴隶；此种奴隶虽属卑下，屈身筵席之侧，亦得殷切倾听其主恣意之论。当大庭广众之所，深思熟虑之人尚有曲意事奉、于帝国固有之宗教体制敬畏有加者，然其隐匿不宣之轻蔑，自可绽出于此单薄拙劣底伪装；纵为见识粗浅之民，及其见所敬之神已然为阶级与见地高超、惯于为渠尊敬底达人所拒斥嘲讽，则渠于向时所最深信底教义，亦不免遍生疑虑与忧惧。如是，旧时成见之衰微乃使一般大众限于苦痛不安之险境。此犹疑不定之态势固可令深思好问之少数齐齐称快，然一般大众于迷信传统已成气味相投之态，倘勉强其脱出此彀，渠仍将悔恨于所喜幻景之消弭。世人于怪力乱神之喜，于未来情形之好，以及使现世之希冀恐惧延展于未知之境底强烈习性，固为多神宗教确立之主因。是以信仰之存于庸众已属迫切之需，倘一神话体系已然倾颓，别样形式之迷信自当接续传布。当此紧要关头，倘上苍之智慧未得显一真正启示、收致最合理性之尊重与信服，亦未得以一种促人好奇、引人惊讶、使人敬畏之修辞传诸万民，则朱庇特与阿波罗已然荒废之庙，不免为一般形式较新、更合时宜底伪神所僭窃。依人类实际之性，当众人一时脱出其自以为是底偏见，且仍于一虔敬之归宿颇抱执念、衷心期盼，则纵为一不甚配称之物，亦可填塞其内心空虚，而慰藉情感中旁无着落之渴望。倘论者得依以上逻辑遂行探究，则其于基督教飞速发达之态，自不应再抱惊讶，而真可惊讶之情，则为此新宗教之胜出原可更富迅捷、更趋普遍，超乎今之实情。

〔罗马帝国之和平与统一〕

前文已藉史实与修辞述及，罗马人之征服于基督教之发达，既为先导、亦增便利。本书第二章中，吾辈已然试论：欧罗巴、亚细亚、阿非利加之最文明行省，如何统一于单一君主之治下，且其何以藉法律、风俗并语言之极密纽带，而使此分立之省渐趋勾连。巴勒斯坦之犹太人其时乃热盼一现世底救主，渠于神圣先知之奇迹固抱一种冷漠，因之于发布并保存希伯来文之福音书，亦不甚热心(205)。今日所存基督言行之信史，多系非犹太之外邦信众数目大增后，以希腊文书写于远离耶路撒冷之地(206)。此种历史一经译为拉丁文，立时得为罗马众臣民所明白周知；即令不通拉丁文之叙利亚与埃及农人，嗣后亦得专属之别种译本。为军团行进所建之罗马大道，亦为基督教传教士自大马士革至哥林多、由意大利而达西班牙与不列颠边地之途，加增便利；此辈灵魂之征服者，亦未得遇习见之延宕、阻滞外邦宗教传诸远地底任一障碍。

〔基督教发达之历史考察〕

吾辈当可坚信：在戴克里先与君士坦丁二帝登基之前，基督之信仰已然传布于帝国每一行省与通都大邑；然而尚有若干团契之初创、渠所含信众之数、当地教徒与未信教民人之比例，今时无从考证，或为含混浮夸之辞所饰。而吾辈于基督教底声望于亚细亚、希腊、埃及、意大利及西方诸行省日渐隆盛之态，虽有此记录不明之弊，仍当接续论述；而基督教于罗马疆界之外所建之功业，无分其真实与否，下文亦当一并述及。

〔在东方〕

自幼发拉底河延伸至爱奥尼亚海之众富裕行省，乃外邦人底使徒(207)宣示其热忱与虔敬之所在。彼得既已播福音之种于此肥沃之土，渠之门徒乃循乎其后、辛勤培植；是以公元后最初二百年间，全帝国人数最众之基督徒团契或即在此方圆中。叙利亚行省所建之基督徒团体，以大马士革、贝罗埃亚（或曰阿勒颇）、安提阿三处历史最久、声望最隆。《启示录》曾以预言之腔描述亚细亚行省之七大教会——以弗所、士每拿、别迦摩、推雅推喇(208)、撒狄、非拉铁非、老底嘉，使之名传后世；而七教会之分支，俄而散布于此人口稠密之区域。更古之时，塞浦路斯与克里特二岛及色雷斯并马其顿行省，悉已顺利接受此新兴宗教；而基督徒之共同体亦不日创建于哥林多、斯巴达与雅典城市(209)。希腊及亚细亚之教会起始甚早，是以其兴旺繁盛可得一充足之期；甚至灵知派与诸异端教会之兴亦可旁证正统教会之发达状况，盖因“异端”之名多适用于人数较少之宗派，倘世无“主流”，又何得“异端”？此种内证以外，吾辈尚可自异教徒本身之陈词、怨言并忧惧以旁观其情。哲人琉善于人情多有见地，且曾以极生动底文笔描绘世人风习，自渠之笔下，吾辈可知：康茂德帝在位时，“龙兴之地”本都几为犬儒派与基督徒所充塞(210)。耶稣升天后八十年(211)，仁慈底普林尼图根除本都行省之基督徒“邪灵”而不可得，望其祸害之烈，只得徒呼奈何。渠曾有一书上于图拉真皇帝，语甚有趣，个中极言“神庙祭坛，悉被毁弃；献祭牺牲，乏人问津；而此迷信之祸非独绵延于城镇，亦波及乡村四郊，与本都并比太尼亚之旷野。”(212)

〔安提阿教会〕

至于一般文学者，吾辈虽未详考其所言所思，然则无分其于基督教发达乎东方一事持赞颂或悲叹，皆可断言：渠于东方行省信众之确切数目，未曾遗下任一证据，可供今人秉之而为一中平估量。幸有一事实尚得保全，使吾辈于信众之数此一含混而不失有趣底话题，可以略见端倪。狄奥多西帝在位时，基督教沐受皇恩已逾六十年之数，其时，古老显赫底安提阿教会辖有十万人之众，其中三千人仰公共捐献维生(213)。“东方之后”底荣华尊贵，恺撒利亚、塞琉西亚与亚历山大里亚众所周知之人丁兴旺，以及查士丁一世在位之际安提阿曾因地震死人二十五万之史实(214)，皆得证明其时该城底全般住民当不少于五十万之数，颇为可信；而基督徒之数虽因热忱与权柄大有见增，仍不能逾全城人口底五分之一之数。而倘使吾辈将惨罹迫害与发达昌隆之教会，西方行省与东方行省、偏僻乡野与大都城镇，乃至新近皈依基督之地区，与最初袭用“基督徒”名谓之地区作一比较，则其间信众与一般百姓之比例，相差岂非甚巨！吾辈亦不可忽视，克吕索斯托（吾辈赖其教乃得此实用资料）在另一文本中计入之基督徒总数，竟能超乎犹太教徒与多神教徒之上(215)。然则此显见之困惑，原可作一轻松明白之解释：克吕索斯托固为一能言善辩之教长，当其比较安提阿之教会团体与民政组织之规模时，前者以登记受洗之基督徒为准，后者以有权获享公共福利之公民名录为准。前者由是包含一众奴隶、外邦人及婴幼，后者则无由将此般人等计算于内。

〔在埃及〕

亚历山大里亚底商业甚为兴旺，加之邻近巴勒斯坦，自是便于此新兴宗教底传入。最初之皈依者当为数目甚巨之“治愈者派”(216)，或居于马勒奥提斯湖畔之艾赛尼派；后者亦为犹太教之支派，然而于摩西教仪向时不甚敬畏。艾赛尼派固守其苦修生活，厉行斋戒及革出教门之规，资财共有，禁欲独身，热中殉道，其信仰虽不甚纯净、然至为热烈，可为原初教规之一鲜活写照(217)。亚历山大里亚之学园中，基督教神学之研读似已具一规整科学之形式；及哈德良帝巡视埃及，渠所见之教会乃由犹太人并希腊人组成，地位尊贵，自是为此好问究竟底君王所注目(218)。然则较长时间中，基督教之发达犹囿于亚历山大里亚——此地原系一殖民地——一城之内；直至2世纪末叶，德美特里乌之诸前任仍为埃及教会仅有之教长。当德美特里乌为亚历山大里亚宗主教时，渠方得祝圣主教三人，而德氏之继任者赫拉克拉斯复将其数增至二十人(219)。当地之人向以执拗顽固著称(220)，于此新教义乃抱一种冷漠厌恶之态度；及至奥利金之世，埃及人亦少有抛却其固有之陋俗、不复为宰牲祭祀之事者(221)。然一俟基督教居于统治之位，此辈蛮族之热忱立时臣服于流行底趋势；埃及之大小城邦主教满溢，隐修士齐集于底比斯旷野。

〔在罗马〕

外邦与外省之人，悉入罗马城兼容并蓄之怀，势同激流。诡异乖戾之徒、罪人与嫌疑之辈，皆可望隐匿于此人烟稠密之首都，以图逍遥法外。在此民族庞杂之境内，不论宣讲真理之师与妖言惑众之人，无分行善积德之宗与杀人越货之祖，皆易于吸纳其门生徒众。依塔西佗之记载，当尼禄突行迫害之时，罗马之基督徒已达一巨大之数(222)；此大史家叙述其事之笔法，与李维笔下酒神祭仪之输入并遭禁一事，几无二致(223)。及酒神之徒已为元老院所严惩，世人于基督徒之事亦生出一种担心，即吾国有一众庶民，已陷于一种可恶之神秘活动中，形同非我族类。倘再细加考察，可知此种罪徒当不逾于七千人之数；然虑及彼皆为有司绳之以法底对象，则其数自是甚为惊人(224)。然则塔西佗含混之措辞，与前文所述普林尼之先例，于遗弃国教之神、轻信基督宗教底愚众规模，未免有所夸大，吾辈尚应作一坦率底澄清。罗马教会自是帝国疆域内成立最早、信众最多之教会；依吾辈所获之一确凿记录，在3世纪中叶、历经三十八年之和平时代后，罗马之宗教状况为：全教会共设主教1人、长老46人、执事7人、副执事7人、助祭42人，及经师、驱魔人与阍夫共50人。由信徒捐献所供养之寡妇、残疾并贫民，其数达1500人之多(225)。依此记录，及上文安提阿先例之类比，吾辈自可估计罗马之基督徒总数约5万人。至于此伟大都城之总人口，或难于精确核实；然依最保守估计，亦当不少于100万人之众，其中基督徒之比例至多为1/20(226)。

〔在阿非利加及西部诸省〕

西方诸行省之知基督教义，似亦得自罗马教会，与昔时罗马语言、思想及风习传布于其间之态并无二致。在此重大方面，阿非利加及高卢行省皆渐次趋向模仿首都。然则诸有利时机虽已皆具、可诱使罗马教士前往访问拉丁诸行省，渠实际遂行渡地中海、过阿尔卑斯山之事，当在较晚(227)。吾辈亦无从自此广大地区发掘确凿遗迹，证实其间曾有甚于安东尼王朝时信众之盛、迫害之烈底状况存在(228)。福音于高卢苦寒之地传布不速，与阿非利加炙热沙漠中信众热忱皈依之景，自不可同日而语。出身阿非利加之基督徒俄而已成原初教会最核心成员之一部。此一行省委派主教之成例，在于遣其至最不足道之市镇，甚或常为远人不达之乡村，如是益得加增其团体之光华与价值。至3世纪时，阿非利加之教会已为德尔图良之热忱所感，西普里安之才干所率，拉克唐修之辩才所赞。然则倘吾辈回视高卢之景，则其情恰为反例：马可·奥勒留在位时，里昂与维也纳仅具少数虚弱联合之圣会；迟至德基乌斯时代，亦仅有阿尔勒、纳博讷、图卢兹、利摩日、克勒芒、图尔及巴黎等少数城市，可见由些许基督徒众勉力维持之零散教会(229)。静默或与虔敬之情为合；然其甚少合于信徒热忱之道。由此，吾辈当可察诸基督教于此类行省之黯淡状况，为之叹惋：即令当地土著所操之凯尔特语已然更易为拉丁语，公元后之三百年间，此处竟无一名教会作家崛起。忆及高卢尚为阿尔卑斯山北端诸省中学术及识见堪称翘楚者，则藉由该地折射至僻远底西班牙与不列颠行省之福音光芒，自当更趋微弱。倘德尔图良激越之言辞为真，则及其上呈《护教篇》于塞维鲁帝之总督时，基督教最初之光已然达于西班牙与不列颠之滨(230)。然则有关西欧教会之渺茫阙疑起源，文献所载多属语焉不详，倘余意图叙述其初创之时间与向时风习，则势必引用后代修士于修道院闲散阴郁之气氛中，秉其狂热及迷信所捏造之传说，以补古典文献之阙(231)。此种神圣传奇中，尤以使徒圣詹姆斯之传说，因其极言妄诞之特质，颇值一提。其人本为革尼撒勒湖滨一介无名渔夫，俄而化身为英勇武士，身先士卒、率西班牙骑士大战摩尔人。严肃底史家颂扬其武功；孔波斯特拉之奇迹神殿彰显其权势；而军事修士会之战刀，辅以宗教裁判所之恐怖，足以消弭一切亵渎神明底异议(232)。

〔在罗马帝国疆域之外〕

基督教之发达，尚不仅限于罗马帝国疆域内；依早期教父之说（彼常以预言替代事实），在基督升天后一百年间，此44一新宗教固已传及寰宇之任何一部。“任一民族”，殉道者查士丁曰，“无分希腊人或蛮族，抑或人类其他种族，无分其名谓与风习有何差异，不论渠于艺术并农业是否无知，不论渠是否委身帐篷之下，抑或颠簸篷车之上，其间皆有人以殉难于十字架底耶稣之名，祷告于天父及创世之主。”(233)然则倘欲使此种堂皇夸辞与世间之真实状况相为契合，即为当今之世，亦甚困难。是以查士丁之言辞，不过系一虔敬而任性底文士一时兴起、猝然发声，而渠度量信仰之尺度，亦不能外于私念。然则不论此辈教父之信与愿为何，彼等于实存之历史，终不得稍为更易。毋庸赘言，日后倾覆罗马帝国之西徐亚并日尔曼蛮族，尚陷于异教底黑暗中；使伊比利亚、亚美尼亚及埃塞俄比亚人改宗基督一事亦屡试屡败，直至当地君权落于正教帝王之手，方得告成(234)。当此之前，战争与贸易此起彼伏，或得使福音底残金缺玉，传布至喀里多尼亚之部落(235)，兴起于莱茵河、多瑙河与幼发拉底河之边界居民间(236)。至于幼发拉底河彼岸之地，以得撒向以坚信基督、为时甚早著称(237)。是以基督教之信念，易于经以得撒之城传至阿尔达希尔后人治下底希腊及叙利亚城市(238)；然其于波斯人之头脑，似未造就深刻底印象，盖波斯固有之宗教体系，蒙一众训练有素底教士之辛勤，较希腊、罗马之无常神话远为机巧稳固(239)。

〔基督徒与异教徒之近似比例〕

上文关于基督教发达之考察，虽不甚完满、然堪称公允，自其间不难窥得：基督信徒之数，因恐惧与虔敬交相作用，乃被大肆夸张。依奥利金无可指摘底证言(240)，信众在四民中所居之比例不甚可观，相较蒙昧世界之庸众，可谓微乎其微；然则吾辈今已无从觅得清楚之信息，是以亦无从断定甚或推测原初基督徒之实在数目。纵使吾辈可自安提阿与罗马之成例，推算最有利于基督教一方之数据，吾辈仍无由假设：及至君士坦丁帝宣布皈依之重大时刻(241)，帝国已有超出二十分之一底民众投身十字架幡下。然则彼等忠信、热忱与协力之习，似可无形加增其数目，而此风习亦有助力于其教将来之发展，使彼实在之力益发显著、庄敬可畏。

〔最初之基督徒是否卑下无知〕

少数凭其财富、荣光与知识而得显赫，庶众则沦于微贱、无知及贫困之境：此乃文明社会之一般体制。基督教既广布其道于一般人类，则渠所采之信徒中，出身卑下阶层者必较出身上流者远为繁多。此一状况原属清白天成，然情随事迁，竟成一甚为可厌之诋毁；历代护教士于否认此说似不甚热心，而基督教之论敌则大加渲染。其说曰：基督教此一新生教派，几乎全由人类之渣滓及农民、工匠、儿童、妇女、乞丐、奴隶之辈组成；而奴隶之人更时有引狼入室者，使传教之士得登渠所属富贵人家之堂。此辈传教之人皆为无名教师（此乃恶意及异教徒之诋毁），渠于大庭广众间固沉默寡言，私人场合则喋喋不休、强词夺理。此种教师亦小心避免直面哲人之危险，然于愚鲁无知之大众，辄混迹其间，觅得因年龄、性别或教育之故，易于沾染迷信恐惧之人，暗传其说(242)。

〔一类例外：学识方面〕

此种不怀好意之图景，虽不无若干合乎实情之迹，然自其基调阴暗、形象歪曲之状观之，显系出诸论敌之手。基督谦卑之信仰既已传布至周遭世界，则不免亦有若干天赋聪颖、富于资财，由是薄有声名者皈依幡下。亚里斯蒂德本为雅典哲人，俟其皈依，则自陈一雄辩之护教辞于哈德良帝君(243)。殉道者查士丁曾自芝诺、亚里士多德、毕达哥拉斯与柏拉图派之学园中研求神学，直至渠有幸遇一耄耋，或曰一天使，方将注意转入犹太先知之研究(244)。亚历山大的克莱门饱读古希腊著作，德尔图良于拉丁文论著亦曾博览。尤利乌斯·亚非利加努斯及奥利金可谓当时学界之泰山北斗；至于西普里安并拉克唐修，此二人之文风虽迥然有异，吾辈仍可发见二人皆为知名修辞术师。甚至哲学之研究，最终亦传入基督徒之间，虽则未必立即可获最增见益之果；知识常为虔敬之始，亦可为异端之宗，向时藉以谴责阿尔特蒙徒众之演说，假以时日，亦可用于声讨抵制使徒底一干继承者——使徒教父及护教士之大小教派。“渠不惧篡改神圣堂堂之正典，亦不屑理会古老信仰之规诫，而自寻一套言辞诡谲之逻辑，以成其说。渠捐弃教会神圣之学，转攻几何；渠汲汲于尘世之度量，而不能识圣体之形。渠时时研习欧几里德之学。渠尊崇亚里士多德与狄奥弗拉斯图；渠于盖伦之著述，常抱一异乎寻常之崇信。渠滥用异教徒之艺术与科学，而造败坏正教之业，复以人类理性之驳杂，侵蚀福音固有底淳朴。”(245)

〔一类例外：阶级与财富方面〕

吾辈亦不可妄言，出身高贵、广有资财之士与基督信仰总也无缘。普林尼于彼之刑庭曾见一干罗马公民，渠俄而察觉，比提尼亚省各阶级人等中，已有颇众之数背弃其先祖之教(246)。此一证词可谓确凿无疑，较之德尔图良公然底诘难更富可信度。德氏为激发阿非利加省总督之恐惧与仁慈，曾向渠保证：倘渠固持其严酷之道，迦太基人口之十分之一将亡于迫害，且渠当于此种宗教犯中发见诸多本身阶级之人，贵胄出身之元老及妇女，乃至与渠自身交谊最密之朋友并亲戚(247)。其后约四十年，德尔图良论说之真实性似已为瓦勒良帝所信服；渠曾于一敕令中明言：此际已有元老、罗马骑士并世家女眷入于基督之门(248)。教会固已失其内在之纯净，然其外在之声势，则有加无已；至戴克里先帝登基时，宫廷、法院甚至军团中已潜匿有大般基督教徒，渠力图使现世之利与来世之报协调一致。

〔基督教最易为贫民及无知者接受〕

然则此种特例或为数过少，或为时过晚，尚不得推翻横加于早期基督信徒之“卑下无知”腹诽。倘吾辈欲为之辩护，则毋须采信后世之杜撰，而当使此流言丛生之情形变更为一有利教化之课题，或更为明智。倘能深思熟虑，吾辈自当察觉：使徒自身乃圣父自加利利渔人中遴选，使首批基督徒之现世地位设定愈低，则吾辈崇敬其功绩及成就之理由，自当更为充分。吾辈自当谨记：天国之报乃许于神贫之人(249)，为尘世之灾及旁人之辱折磨底心灵，自是乐于倾听来世幸福之天赐应许；反而言之，倘一人于现世已然富足，渠自当满足于当下所得；至于智慧过人之士，则将其理性与知识之虚矫优越，徒然消磨于怀疑及争论，无暇崇信宗教。

〔其为1世纪与2世纪若干卓越人士所反对〕

上述理由当为吾辈所迫切希求，以使吾辈不致因一干卓越之士外于基督宗教之门而生悲戚；依吾辈之见，彼等原为最配承受此天降恩赐之对象。塞涅卡、大小普林尼、塔西佗、普鲁塔克、盖伦、奴隶爱比克泰德及皇帝马可·奥勒留之辈，在其活跃之时，皆得见增当世之光，而显扬人类自然之高贵。彼等于实践功业并冥想生活中，皆得以荣光充实各自之地位；彼等之杰出头脑仰钻研之助，而得加强；彼等之见地赖哲学之力，绝缘于流俗迷信之成见；彼等一生绝无糜费，悉数付诸追求真理、践行德性。然则上述此辈圣贤皆忽视或拒斥基督教体制之完善（此不免为一惊人而费思量之问题）。彼之有言与无言，于当其在世时已然遍及罗马帝国各省、方兴未艾之基督教派，同显轻蔑之情。此辈名士中，纵有二三子不耻下视、曾语及基督徒，亦仅目此辈教众为一类顽固悖逆底狂信之徒；依渠之见，基督徒虽强求众人俯首帖耳于彼之神秘教义，然终无有论据可使明敏博学之人稍加留意者(250)。

〔彼等无视预言〕

此辈哲人有否精读原初基督徒为己身与己教之利、屡次发布底护教言说，尚属可疑；而圣教大业竟无更具才智之讼师可为辩护，尤属可哀。原初基督徒曾以过剩之智慧与辩才，揭露多神宗教之妄诞。彼亦曾表露受迫害教友之清白与苦难，以资激发吾辈之同情。然则，及其论及基督教之神圣起源，彼乃汲汲于已然公布之“救主将临”预言，于救主所伴之奇迹则语焉不详。彼热衷之论据或可令同教之友有所启发、亦可使犹太之人欣然皈依，盖此二者皆认可救主预言之权威，且皆受命以虔敬之心探求此说底官能、应验其状态。然则此一劝导方式，倘施之于既不解摩西之道与预言文体，复不能尊奉其道之人，则将失诸大半分量并影响(251)。查士丁与后代护教士应对拙劣，是使希伯来神谕之庄严意蕴消弭于幽眇幻象、虚骄思想并冷漠寓言中；甚至神谕之真实性，亦因渠混有虔敬之诈术——假借俄耳普斯、赫耳墨斯及女先知之名(252)，强使不信之人将天国之真实启示与此类谵语等量齐观——而为一般蒙昧异教徒所疑。以欺诈及诡辩捍卫启示之行，时时令吾辈忆及二三诗人不智之举：渠笔下之英雄已然刀枪不入，然依旧披挂累赘易碎之无用甲胄。

〔彼等无视奇迹〕

全能之主于异教之徒并哲学之人底世界，已然显其凭证，非及于其理性，然达于其感官；而此辈粗疏之徒竟能熟视无睹，何其怪哉！基督肉身在世之时、十二使徒济世之期、使徒门徒布道之日，渠宣讲之教义已然为无数神迹所确证：跛者能行、瞽者能视、病者愈而亡者甦、魔鬼被逐，自然之法时时为教会之利失其常轨。

〔对基督殉难之际之晦暗默然不语〕

然则希腊与罗马之贤哲，彼决然无视此种可畏之奇景，依旧注目于渠寻常生活与研修，而于世间一般精神或政治统治之变更无所察觉。提比略帝在位时，寰宇之内(253)——至少罗马帝国疆域中一知名行省(254)——一度得被天地冥晦之景，逾三小时之久。此种不同寻常之景，本应引致世人惊讶、好奇并虔敬之情，且彼时科学与史学尤为昌隆(255)，而此种异象竟被悄然忘却，转瞬即逝。此事发生之际，正当塞涅卡与老普林尼在世时，二人自应亲历此奇观之直接影响，或觅得其最初报告。此二哲人曾于其苦心修撰之著作中，遍录地震、流星、彗星、日月食之类一切奇伟自然现象，事无巨细，务以好奇之心为要(256)。然渠于此创世以来人眼所见之最壮观景象，齐齐略而未提，尤属古怪。普林尼曾以著述之一章(257)专论世间性质奇特、历时特久底日食；然则渠汲汲于描述恺撒遇刺之际日光异乎寻常底昏暗——当一年中光景最佳之时，阳光突显黯淡、白昼失华。此一天光昏晦之情形，与基督殉难之际不可思议之晦暗，尚不得等量齐观，然而多数诗人(258)并史家于此值得记忆之时刻，已然大书特书矣(259)。

————————————————————

(1) 方括号中的章节名称为柏本所加，柏本原文为边注样式。

(2) 罗马共和国建立之初（前5世纪），其卫城与供奉主神朱庇特的神庙皆在卡庇托林山丘（Capitoline Hill）之上。此处似专指卡庇托林神庙，原址已于5世纪为蛮族所毁，13世纪后在卡庇托林山巅建成天主教堂。——译者注

(3) 俯就（Condescension）是天启的基本方式之一。早期基督徒认为，神不会向人传递错误的信息，但启示必须“俯就”凡人有限的理解力，只能以人之身、人之言、人之行得到体现。其中的最高之义便是道成肉身。参阅《旧约·以西结书》1:28、《新约·哥林多前书》13:9。——译者注

(4) 据《旧约·创世记》记载，犹太人（希伯来人）之祖初居迦勒底的吾珥城，后于公元前20世纪西迁至迦南的“上帝应许之地”，在此定居繁衍，形成现代意义上的以色列民族。此际的族长即下文提及的亚伯拉罕。后因迦南饥荒及外族入侵，以色列人一度迁徙至埃及的歌珊地。前15世纪，因埃及法老迫害犹太人，利未支派的摩西率以色列流民出埃及、过红海，迁回迦南之地。途经西奈山时，摩西曾见耶和华显灵，于电闪雷鸣中授其以十条诫命：（1）除上帝外不可有别的神。（2）不可为自己雕刻偶像，也不可作形像模仿上天、下地和地下、水中的百物。不可跪拜偶像，也不可事奉它。（3）不可妄称耶和华你神的名。（4）当记念安息日，守为圣日。（5）当孝敬父母。（6）不可杀人。（7）不可奸淫。（8）不可偷盗。（9）不可作假见证陷害人。（10）不可贪恋人的房屋、妻子、仆婢、牛驴并他一切所有。其事参阅《旧约·出埃及记》19—20。——译者注

(5) “当亚述人、米底亚人和波斯人统治着东方的时候，犹太人被他们看成是最下贱的臣民。”（塔西佗：《历史》卷五c. 8）在亚细亚行省臣服于波斯帝国的最后岁月，希罗多德（前484—前425，希腊史家）曾造访此地，略微提及居于巴勒斯坦之地的叙利亚人；依其自述，他们从埃及（的犹太流民）那里接受了割礼这一习俗。其事参阅《历史》卷二c. 104。——柏本注

随摩西东归后，以色列人在前11世纪建立了以耶路撒冷为中心的统一王国，并建成供奉约柜（其中盛装有十诫石板）的第一圣殿。前722年，以色列国大部为亚述所灭，包括耶路撒冷在内的一个较小的犹太国则于前586年亡于新巴比伦王国，第一圣殿被毁，进入所谓“巴比伦之囚”时期（Babylonian captivity）。新巴比伦为波斯帝国所灭后，犹太人又成为波斯属民，在波斯人许可下重回耶路撒冷，建成第二圣殿。——译者注

(6) 波斯在希波战争中失败后，迦南地先并入兴起于希腊北方的马其顿亚历山大帝国，亚历山大死后，马其顿帝国一分为三，迦南又为托勒密王朝统治的埃及所据。这一时期，犹太人所受的统治较为宽松。——译者注

(7) 迪奥多罗斯·赛库鲁斯（前1世纪希腊史家）：《历史丛书》卷十一；迪奥·卡西乌斯（155/163/164—229后，罗马史家、贵族政治家）：《罗马史》卷三十七，第221页；塔西佗：《历史》卷五c. 1-9；查士丁努斯（以拉丁语写作的罗马史家）：《腓力王时代史》卷三十六c. 2,3。——柏本注

(8) “摩西传其说，俾其秘制册；奥妙不授人，单与真信徒。‘苟欲得救者，必先行割礼。’”（尤文纳尔：《讽刺诗》第14，c. 102）尤文纳尔引述的这段律例文字在今日所见的摩西律法版本中已经无存。但睿智而仁慈的迈蒙尼德（1135—1204，中世纪犹太哲人、经学家）曾公开教导：倘若一名崇拜偶像者不慎落水，犹太人绝不应施救。参阅雅克·巴纳热（1653—1723，法国宗教史家、新教牧师）：《耶稣基督后直至今日的犹太人宗教史》卷六c. 28。——柏本注

(9) 前201-前195年，控制叙利亚一带的塞琉古王朝统治者安条克三世自埃及手中夺取了迦南地，以色列人受到宗教迫害，于前168年发动马卡比起义、重获独立，直至前63年再为罗马人所征服。——译者注

(10) 犹太人中的一派臣服于罗马人委任的耶路撒冷国王、以东人希律（前74-前4），为其表象和威势所惑，自称希律党（Herodians）。但其人数极少、存在时间亦短，以至犹太史家约瑟法斯在其著作中并未提及。参阅汉弗莱·普利多：《与犹太国及周边国家历史相连的旧约和新约》，卷二第285页。——沃本注

希律党人主张犹太国应由大希律王的子孙而非罗马总督统治，其事参《新约·马太福音》22:15-18，亦参《马可福音》3:6、12:13。——译者注

(11) 西塞罗：《为弗拉库斯辩护》，c. 28。——柏本注

(12) 参阅斐洛（前20—50，即亚历山大里亚的斐洛，与耶稣同时代的希腊化犹太哲人）：《向盖尤斯请愿的使团》。奥古斯都（前63—14）留给耶路撒冷神庙一笔款项以供常年献祭所需。但他的曾外孙盖尤斯（12—41，即下文所述的卡里古拉）显然无视祖训，对耶路撒冷神庙态度不恭。参阅苏维托尼乌斯（75—150，罗马史家，曾著《罗马十二帝王传》）：《神圣的奥古斯都传》c. 93，以及卡索邦对该章的注释。——柏本注

(13) “但后来当盖乌斯皇帝（即卡里古拉）下令犹太人在他们的神殿中设立他的像的时候，他们就宁肯诉诸武力抵抗的办法。”（塔西佗：《历史》卷五c. 9）斐洛与约瑟法斯（37—100，曾在罗马军中效力的犹太史家，著有《犹太古史》、《犹太战记》）对此事的记述详尽但不无浮夸，据称卡里古拉的要求使叙利亚总督不胜困扰。当他第一次提及造像的建议时，亚基帕王（前10—44，即希律亚基帕一世，大希律王之孙）当场昏厥，第三天才恢复神智。——沃本注

(14) 对叙利亚及阿拉伯神祇之众，弥尔顿（1608—1674，英国诗人、政论家）在其著作中曾以130行优美的诗句加以列举，塞尔登（1584—1654）对这一深奥的文本写过两篇冗长博识的论文。——柏本注

约书亚世代的先人去世后，犹太人曾事奉耶和华厌恶的假神巴力（Baal），离弃上帝，耶和华乃将其付于仇敌之手、使其困苦，随后方兴起士师拯救他们。其事参《旧约·士师记》2:8-16。在那之后，犹太人仍多次离弃耶和华、事奉假神，参《历代志下》28:1-3、34:1-7及《耶利米书》19:4-7各节。——译者注

(15) “耶和华对摩西说：‘这百姓藐视我要到几时呢？我在他们中间行了这一切神迹，他们还不信我要到几时呢？’”（《旧约·民数记》14:11）纵然稍带亵渎，从摩西时代史的总基调仍不难推断，神的抱怨事出有因。——沃本注

(16) 以色列的男婴在出生第八天即须接受割礼（Circumcision），由父母为婴儿切割生殖器包皮。割礼乃是耶和华与亚伯拉罕最初立约时所定，用以作为以色列人放弃异族习俗、成为神之子民的信号。神要亚伯拉罕及其子孙世代遵行割礼，表明其坚守与神立的约，不行割礼者便不得算神之子民。其事参阅《旧约·创世记》17:9-14。凡外邦人想要与以色列人一样敬奉耶和华，也须先受割礼，其事参阅《出埃及记》12:48。——译者注

(17) 此处即是指摩西率以色列人出埃及、东归迦南一事。但摩西未能走完全程即逝世于摩押地，以色列人随后以约书亚为首，继续完成对迦南的重新征服，即下文所述的“征迦南”之事。——译者注

(18) 约（Covenant）在希伯来文中意为“相互结盟、彼此联合”，《圣经》话语中的“约”特指耶和华与亚伯拉罕及以色列民所立之约。其事参《创世记》17:3-7，亦参阅《创世记》17:7-8、17:11-13，《出埃及记》19:5、34:28，《民数记》18:19、25:13各节。——译者注

(19) 参阅《出埃及记》24:23及《申命记》16:16。《通史》（1747—1768年出版于伦敦的65卷世界通史）卷一第603页的评述及注释亦可读。——柏本注

(20) 当庞培（前106—前48，罗马统帅）挟征服者之威闯入耶路撒冷圣殿的内殿时，他惊讶地注意到：“我没有看到任何神的偶像，只有一片虚空神秘之所。”参阅塔西佗（56—117，罗马史家）：《历史》卷五c. 9。犹太人有一句众所周知的名言：“不要崇拜任何偶像，除了那周天之云与云端之神。”（尤文纳尔：《讽刺诗》第14）——柏本注

(21) 改宗犹太教的撒玛利亚和埃及信徒需要接受另一种割礼。《塔木德》经的编纂者对这类外邦人的皈依行为不甚感冒，参阅巴纳热：《耶稣基督后直至今日的犹太人宗教史》卷十一c. 6。——柏本注

会堂（Synagogue）是以色列人被掳至巴比伦后才出现的处所，最初是他们在异乡聚集拜神、讲道及教诲儿女之所，第二圣殿时代后成为固定制度。——译者注

(22) 救主（Messiah）在希伯来文中意为“受膏者”，希腊文译作Christos，汉语中可直译作“基督”。在基督教话语中，救主与耶稣、基督、神之子指代同一对象，但犹太教拒绝承认以上身位的一致性。罗马人对耶稣其人其事的考证，参阅优西比乌（即恺撒利亚的优西比乌，260—339，罗马神学家、教会史家，公认的教会史之父）：《教会史》卷一各节。——译者注

(23) 基督教话语认为，以牛羊血祭祀是为了唤起人的罪感，本身并不能除罪；但当耶稣降世受死后，神之子已作为生祭替世人赎免了罪过。罪过既已免除，信徒即不必再行献祭；此后只要遵行神的话、效法基督，便等同于献祭。其事参阅《新约·希伯来书》9—10。——译者注

(24) 律法之作者（Author）即耶和华，经由摩西向以色列之民颁布。——译者注

(25) 此处的“摩西教义”似指《摩西五经》（Pentateuch），即《旧约》前五卷，亦称律法书。其中表现了神所预备的完全救法，是救恩真道的根基。上帝曾宣言：“你们要遵我的典章，守我的律例，按此而行。我是耶和华——你们的神。所以，你们要守我的律例典章；人若遵行，就必因此活着。”（《利未记》18:4-5）在基督教话语中，自耶稣以己身救赎世人之后，摩西教义已经被“成全”了。——译者注

(26) 犹太人奥洛比奥（1617—1687，即伊萨克·奥洛比奥·德·卡斯特罗，出生于葡萄牙的犹太哲人）曾以精妙的著作阐述赞成这一派观点的依据，反对意见则集中体现于基督徒林伯克（1633—1712，荷兰阿米纽派神学家）同样精妙而直白的著作中。参阅《菲利皮·A. 林伯克论本教正义文集》（此书极切题），或两人论战的其他文本。——柏本注

(27) “耶稣……行过割礼。他的衣食之道都谨遵犹太习俗。他遣那些经他治愈的麻风病人再由祭司察看。他虔诚地过逾越节及其他神圣节日。倘若他是在安息日治愈那麻风病人的，则可见不仅律法允许如此，当时犹太人普遍的意见也认定在安息日不禁止这类行为。”（格劳秀斯：《论基督宗教之真理》卷五c. 7）在下文中，他又阐述了使徒的谦卑姿态（c. 12）。——柏本注

所谓“再由祭司察看”，乃因耶和华曾晓谕摩西与亚伦：“人的肉皮上……成了大麻风的灾病，就要将他带到祭司亚伦，或亚伦作祭司的一个子孙面前。……祭司要察看他，定他为不洁净。……灾病处若变白了，祭司就要定那患灾病的为洁净，他乃洁净了。”（《利未记》13:1-17）耶稣虽然显圣治愈病人的大麻风，但他不愿僭越耶和华的权威，依然要病人按照耶和华所定的规矩，请祭司察看判定病症是否痊愈。——译者注

(28) “神在教会所设立的：第一是使徒（Apostle），第二是先知，第三是教师（Teacher）。”（《哥林多前书》12:28）广义上，凡奉神选召传福音、建立教会者皆可称使徒，但狭义上仅指耶稣亲选之十二门徒。教师则是以基督信仰的道理教化信徒之人，亦可肩负使徒、先知的事工。——译者注

(29) 监督（Bishop）是早期教会中的职务，始见于新约时代，负责督察本人和全群，牧养神的教会。使徒保罗曾告知以弗所的长老：“圣灵立你们作全群的监督，你们就当为自己谨慎，也为全群谨慎，牧养神的教会。”（《使徒行传》20:27-28）使徒时代末期，监督之职日益集中于个人，即成今日习称的“主教”，可参阅下文。——译者注

(30) “他们中几乎所有人都既信基督、又信上帝，同时还谨遵过时的律法。”（苏维托尼乌斯：《神圣史》卷二c. 31）参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷四c. 5。——柏本注

(31) 参阅冯·莫斯海姆（1693—1755，德意志路德宗教会史家）：《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》，第153页。在这个笔者还会经常引述的精彩段落中，莫斯海姆深入解读了初期教会的状态，胜过他的巨著《教会史》中的相关章节。——柏本注

(32) 依《新约》所述，耶稣幼年时居住于受人藐视的小城拿撒勒（Nazareth），“这是应验先知所说，他将称为拿撒勒人的话”（《马可福音》1:23-24）。在此之前，该地区已经出现由施洗约翰所创，崇拜救主、许愿献身的犹太教支派，称为拿撒勒人（Nazarenes）。拿撒勒人既视耶稣为救主，因之也成为原初基督教会的前身。——译者注

(33) 此处指66—70年第一次犹太战争。耶稣升天后，犹太暴民迫害诸使徒，神谕乃启示耶路撒冷教会撤离该城。66年，耶路撒冷民众发起暴动、驱走罗马人，遭到韦斯巴芗（罗马军统帅，69—79年为帝国皇帝）所率罗马军团的围攻。至70年，耶路撒冷城破，第二圣殿被毁，据称死者多达110万人。参阅约瑟法斯：《犹太战记》卷五、六，亦参优西比乌：《教会史》卷三各节。——译者注

(34) 据《福音书》记载，因犹太民众罪恶、不虔敬，宁可释放强盗而杀害救主（《路加福音》23:13-25、《使徒行传》3:14-17），基督曾预言：“因为将有大灾难降在这地方，也有震怒临到这百姓。他们要倒在刀下，又被掳到各国去。耶路撒冷要被外邦人践踏，直到外邦人的日期满了。”（《路加福音》21:23-24）亦参阅《马太福音》24:19-21及约瑟法斯：《犹太战记》卷六各节。——译者注

(35) 参优西比乌：《教会史》卷三c. 5，亦参让·勒克莱（1657—1736，瑞士神学家、经学家）：《教会史》，第605页。在这段临时外迁期间，佩拉的监督与教会仍保留耶路撒冷的名号。同理，罗马教廷曾外迁阿维尼翁70年，教皇仍保有“罗马教皇”之名；亚历山大里亚宗主教早已将宗座迁至开罗，但也未更名。——沃本注

拿撒勒人在巴比伦南部的巴索拉附近依然存在。他们日后被称作曼底安派（Mandaeans）。参阅W. 布兰特：《曼底安派宗教》（1889年），以及《不列颠百科全书》与《赫尔佐格-普利特百科全书》中由凯斯勒撰写的“曼底安派”词条。——柏本注

(36) 即帕布里乌斯·埃利乌斯·图拉真·哈德良（76—138），罗马安东尼王朝第三位皇帝，117—138年在位。下文的新城埃利亚（Aelia）是以其名埃利乌斯（Aelius）命名的。——译者注

(37) 此处指132—135年第二次犹太战争（或称巴尔-科克巴暴动）。自称“星之子”（星是救主的象征）的犹太人首领巴尔-科克巴率民众再度攻下耶路撒冷，随后被罗马军包围于贝特拉要塞，至135年大部战死。此后哈德良废止作为地名的“犹太”，在耶路撒冷修建埃利亚新城、禁止犹太人迁入，耶路撒冷变为一座外邦人城市。犹太民族则进入时长达1800余年的“大流散”时期（Diaspora）。——译者注

(38) 参阅迪奥·卡西乌斯：《罗马史》卷六十九c. 12。佩拉的亚里斯托证实犹太族人从耶路撒冷流亡（参优西比乌：《教会史》卷四c. 6），数位教会作家也曾提及此事，不过其中几人轻率地将禁制令的范围夸大成了整个巴勒斯坦国家。——柏本注

(39) 从使徒时代起、到第二次犹太战争结束，耶路撒冷教会共有过监督（主教）15人，皆为改宗的犹太人，受过割礼。马可（Marcus）是首任未受割礼的耶路撒冷主教，在他之后，圣城教会的成员逐步变为外邦人。参阅优西比乌：《教会史》第四卷c. 5-6。——译者注

(40) 参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷四c. 6，亦参苏比西乌·塞维鲁（363—425，出生于阿奎塔尼亚省的基督教作家）：《编年史》卷二c. 31。比较过这两份不尽如人意的记录之后，莫斯海姆对这一革命性事件的态势及动机作出了极清晰的陈述（《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》，第327页以下）。——柏本注

(41) 勒克莱似乎从优西比乌、耶柔米（347—420，出生于伊利里亚的罗马经学家，早期拉丁教父的代表）、伊皮法纽（约310或320—403，即萨拉米斯的圣伊皮法纽，4世纪末教父、灵知派哲人）以及其他作家那里搜集了所有与拿撒勒人或伊便尼派相关的重要信息（《教会史》第477、第535页）。该派所持观点的性质很快使其分裂为两个宗派，一派较严苛，一派较温和；根据一些证据可以推断，耶稣基督家族的后裔一直是这一教派的成员，至少是后一种较温和派别的成员。

〔伊便尼派第一次被提及是在爱任纽（115—202，即里昂的圣爱任纽，早期教父、护教士）的《驳异端》第一卷第22章。早期伊便尼派（即拿撒勒人）必须与较晚时的灵知派伊便尼派加以区分。关于前者可参阅德尔图良（160—220，出生于迦太基的拉丁教父、护教士，首创“三一论”）和希波律陀的反异端论著，关于后者可参阅伊皮法纽的相关著作。〕——柏本注

(42) 一些作家乐于声称存在一个名叫伊比翁（Elion）的人物，此人是这一宗派的创始人和命名由来。但博学的优西比乌的著作显然比激进的德尔图良或轻率的伊皮法纽更为可信，可资参考。据勒克莱所述，伊便尼派（Ebionites）的希伯来文词根Ebjonim意同拉丁文Pauperes。参阅勒克莱：《教会史》，第477页。

〔这一称谓极言其境遇之窘迫，因而也为伊便尼派教众自身所接受；教父哲人们则轻蔑地认为这是伊便尼派头脑愚蠢的明证。〕——柏本注

Ebionites一词的希伯来文词根Ebjonim本意为“贫困者”（The Poor），这一称谓暗示其信众虽有热忱，但见识鄙陋、不通经义。参阅优西比乌：《教会史》第三卷c. 27。——译者注

(43) 殉道者查士丁（103—165），即恺撒利亚的查士丁，2世纪护教士。青年时代涉猎斯多噶学派与新柏拉图主义学说，后转入护教事业，两次向安东尼王朝上书为基督徒申辩。因遭犬儒派哲学家构陷，于165年为笃信新斯多噶主义的皇帝马可·奥勒留处死，后被封圣。代表作有《护教辞》二篇、《驳希腊人》、《反特来弗对话录》等。——译者注

(44) 参阅殉道者查士丁与犹太人特来弗的奇特对话。他们之间的对话在以弗所进行，其时在位之君为安东尼·庇护，对话的具体时间约在佩拉教会复归于耶路撒冷后二十年。关于其日期可参阅提勒孟特（1637—1698，法国教会史家）的精确记述，见勒南·德·提勒孟特：《提供教会首六世纪之历史数据》卷二，第511页。——柏本注

(45) 在整个基督教谱系中，只有埃塞俄比亚教会依旧固守摩西祭典（戈德斯：《埃塞俄比亚教会史》及《与洛布教长相关论著集成》）。干大基女王的太监的事迹可以作为一种疑点；但我们可以确认埃塞俄比亚人直到4世纪也未曾改宗基督教（君士坦丁堡的苏格拉底：《教会史》卷一c. 19，所左门：《教会史》卷二c. 24，萨克森的卢多尔夫：《依据四部福音及正统派作者之基督生平》第281页），更有理由确信，他们模仿了很早以前就定居于红海两岸的犹太人的做法，坚守安息日之规，不吃依约禁食之肉。而早在远古时代，埃塞俄比亚人就出于健康和清洁的考虑施行割礼，这一问题在科尼利厄斯·迪·保所著《美洲民族哲学研究》卷二第117页曾有述及。——沃本注

据埃塞俄比亚传说，其开国者埃塞俄普斯（Ethiops）是库什的12个子女之一，而库什就是以色列人含之子、诺亚之孙。当地人的犹太教信仰可能由《圣经》时代横渡红海、进入埃塞俄比亚北部的萨巴人带来，后者过去定居于阿拉伯半岛南部，信奉犹太教。公元2世纪后，埃塞俄比亚阿克苏姆王朝以犹太教为国教，吸纳大量犹太移民，其皇帝自称所罗门后裔，直至4—5世纪才改宗基督教。

关于干大基女王的太监诵读先知以赛亚的书的事迹，参阅《新约·使徒行传》8：27-30。依其所述，基督门徒时代的埃塞俄比亚太监知道先知以赛亚的文字，却未曾听闻基督其人与其福音，可见到1世纪后期为止，埃塞俄比亚尊奉的依旧是古老的犹太教仪典。——译者注

(46) 所谓灵知派（Gnostics），其希腊文词根Gnosis意为“知识”。希腊的柏拉图主义者认为，物质世界是由至高神的流出体移涌（Aeon）之一——智慧（Sophia）所创造的巨匠造物主（Demiurge）缔造，另有一个充满移涌、与物质世界平行的超验理念世界。少数灵知派信徒在自我沉思中可以分有关于移涌的确定知识（启示），因而可以超越物质世界的束缚，自行获得拯救。在传播过程中，这一希腊化的宗教哲学与早期犹太教的救主观念相混合，在2世纪中叶形成了灵知派。由于灵知派拒绝承认信仰对知识的优先性，并认为上帝之国中也存在黑暗世界，因此受到正统基督教会的批驳，在3世纪之后走向衰落。灵知派中的一支随后在美索不达米亚与带有神秘仪式的波斯教派相混合，形成摩尼教（Manichaeism），传至13世纪。而灵知主义的各分支依然交相活跃，深刻影响了整个西方思想史。

关于灵知派，参阅埃里克·沃格林：《新政治科学》，及库特·鲁道夫：《灵知：一种晚期古代宗教的本质和历史》。——译者注

(47) 博叟贝（1659—1738，法国新教神学家）在《摩尼教史》卷一c. 3陈述了此类异议，尤其是奥古斯丁的论敌、摩尼教徒浮士德（Faustus）的观点，内容详尽、客观公正。——柏本注

关于奥古斯丁与浮士德的争论，参阅圣奥古斯丁：《驳摩尼教徒浮士德》。——译者注

(48) 此处系指圣祖时代以色列人族长的多妻事迹。如亚伯兰曾娶妻子撒莱的婢女夏甲为妾（《创世记》16:1-2），雅各不单娶了利亚和拉结两姊妹，还纳她们的两个婢女为妾（《创世记》29:15-30、30:1-9）。在圣地定居之后，一夫多妻之事更为普遍，如士师基甸就“有很多妻”（《士师记》8:30-31）。——译者注

(49) 大卫曾引诱赫人乌利亚的妻子拔示巴，随后又谋害乌利亚以便强娶拔示巴，其事见《旧约·撒母耳记下》11:2-27。——译者注

(50) 所罗门王“在法老的女儿之外，又宠爱许多外邦女子”（《列王纪上》11:1），他“有妃七百，都是公主；还有嫔三百”（《列王纪上》11:3）。——译者注

(51) “犹太人之间相互是极端忠诚的，他们在自己人中间总是准备向别人表示同情，但是对每一个别的民族，他们却只有憎恨与敌视了。”（塔西佗：《历史》卷五c. 5）塔西佗显然是以过度褒扬的眼光看待犹太人的。约瑟法斯的审视则必已和这类对立不符。——柏本注

(52) 伯内特博士（1635—1715，启蒙时代神学家、自然神论者）曾以丰富的才智和发散性思维对《创世记》第1章进行考证（《考古哲学论》卷二c. 7）。——柏本注

关于圣日、上帝以亚当肋骨造出女人、伊甸园、亚当夏娃偷食知善恶树之果及被逐出乐园等事件，参阅《创世记》2—3。——译者注

(53) 较温和的灵知派教众认为，造物主耶和华也是一个混杂有神明与魔鬼性质的存在。其他灵知派甚至将上帝与邪恶的根源相混同。可参阅莫斯海姆《教会史》中关于2世纪的部分，这一章节对两派在此问题上的不同看法作了清晰（尽管失之简短）的记录。——沃本注

(54) 参阅博叟贝：《摩尼教史》卷一c. 4。奥利金与圣奥古斯丁（354—430，出生于北非的拉丁教父，古代教会最伟大的神学家之一，著有《上帝之城》、《忏悔录》）也在这些寓言作家之中。——柏本注

优西比乌与其导师潘菲鲁斯曾著有《为奥利金辩护》一书，反驳那些攻击奥利金把神学寓言化的作家，今存前六卷。——译者注

(55) 参阅黑格西普斯（110—180，犹太人、早期教会史家）所述，转引自优西比乌：《教会史》卷三c. 32、卷四c. 22；并参亚历山大的克莱门（150—215，生于雅典的早期教父，亚历山大里亚学派的代表）：《杂记》卷七c. 17。——柏本注

(56) 耶稣被出卖当夜吃逾越节的筵席时，曾掰饼递予门徒，预表舍弃自己的肉身；以葡萄汁递予门徒，代表自己流的血（《马太福音》26:26-28）。耶稣叫门徒如此行，是为了记住基督曾为罪人舍命、使世人得赦。教会初期信徒共同吃饭时，便要行掰饼的仪式，称“拜领圣体”（Communion）。参阅《哥林多前书》11:17-29。——译者注

(57) 〔也许不必赘述，灵知主义曾在《新约·提摩太前书》中被述及过。〕——柏本注

(58) 前6世纪，出生于米底王国（后为波斯吞并）的先知琐罗亚斯德（Zoroaster）对古波斯拜物教和多神教进行改革，创立了祆教。根据其教义，世界存在着善恶两大本原，善界主神阿胡拉·马兹达创造宇宙间一切善物，恶界之首阿赫里·曼纽则孕育宇宙间所有的恶，整个世界就是善与恶的长期斗争过程，最后善将获得胜利，人类将进入“光明、公正和真理的王国”。阿胡拉·马兹达以火为象征，代表光明和生命，因此在传入中国之后也称“拜火教”。波斯为阿拉伯征服后，祆教信徒大部伊斯兰化，少数迁徙至印度和中国。其教义对较晚时期的摩尼教亦有影响。——译者注

(59) 在关于2世纪和3世纪灵知派教众的文献中，莫斯海姆的著作较有见解、出言坦率；勒克莱虽枯燥但较精确；博叟贝差不多一直是个护教论者；尤其值得警醒的是，早期教父差不多都对灵知派频出恶语。

〔灵知主义起源于叙利亚，传入埃及后受到希腊哲学影响（例如，巴西理得受到斯多噶学派的影响，瓦伦廷受到柏拉图主义的影响），进入第二个发展期。该派更晚时的发展在专著《信仰智慧》（Pistis Sophia）中有所述及，此书是灵知派留下的一部重要典籍，原抄本为科普特文，1851年由施瓦茨和彼得曼编辑出版，添加了拉丁文注释。〕——柏本注

巴西理得（约1—2世纪）认为世界不是由上帝直接创造的，而是经历了一个发展完备的过程，人可以借助知识自行得救。其事参优西比乌：《教会史》卷四c. 7“灵知派”。瓦伦廷认为世人可分为属灵者（灵知派）、属魂者（基督正教徒）、属肉者（魔鬼之子）三类，基督徒因为无法获得Gnosis（知识），只能得到中度的解脱，而唯有灵知派可得真知，升天获救。——译者注

(60) 参阅爱任纽和伊皮法纽列出的清单。可以想见，这些作者倾向于夸大反对统一教会的宗派的数量。——柏本注

(61) 参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷四c. 15，并参所左门（400—450，拜占庭律师、教会史家）：《教会史》卷二c. 32。皮埃尔·贝尔（1647—1706，法国哲学家）在题为《马克安》的文章中亦有述及，此文展示了围绕灵知派异端的争论中某些新奇的细节。必须注意到一些灵知派分支（如巴西理得派）不屑、甚至抵制殉道的荣耀。他们的理由独到而深奥。参阅莫斯海姆：《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》，第359页。——柏本注

(62) 参阅奥利金（182或185—251，出生于埃及的早期教父，亚历山大里亚学派的代表）的一篇卓越文字（《走向光明》序言）。这位不屈不挠的作者毕生致力于对《圣经》的研究，他认为经文真实与否应由教会当局来钦定。灵知派信众当然不可能接受现在的福音书，因为其中的许多章节（特别是关于基督复活的部分）与他们信奉的原理相悖，灵知派认为这是有意为之的。因此多少有些奇怪的是，伊格纳修（约35或50—98到117之间，即安提阿的伊格纳修，使徒约翰之徒、殉道者）竟然也选择采用隐晦而可疑的传说，却不引述《福音书》作者的确实证言（《使徒教父士每拿书》卷二第34页）。——柏本注

(63) 笔者自当忆及德尔图良满带嫌恶的行文：“如同胡蜂筑巢一般，这班马克安派也大建其教会。”（《驳马克安》卷四c. 5）在伊皮法纽的时代（《驳黑格西普斯》，第302页），马克安派在意大利、叙利亚、埃及、阿拉伯半岛和波斯盛行一时。——柏本注

马克安派认为基督在世时并无真实的身体，是上帝以人的形象来到世间、救赎人类。——译者注

(64) 需要指出的是，此处的“亚细亚”并非今日的亚洲，而是专指罗马帝国的亚细亚行省，其位置在今小亚细亚西部，首府为以弗所。过去的中译本统译作“亚洲”，不确。与此同理，文中出现的“阿非利加”也是专指罗马的阿非利加行省，而不是今日的非洲，埃及以西的今非洲西北部在当时称为“利比亚”。——译者注

(65) 奥古斯丁便是这种由理性逐渐转入信仰的明证。他曾加入摩尼教数年之久。——沃本注

(66) 原初基督教会的一致看法在殉道者查士丁的第一篇《护教辞》中曾详细论述过〔c. 25〕，亦参阿忒那哥拉斯（133—190，希腊人、早期护教士）：《护教篇》c. 22以下，及拉克唐修（240—320，早期拉丁教父、护教士，君士坦丁一世的顾问）：《神学原理》卷二c. 14-19。——柏本注

(67) 德尔图良宣称，每当魔鬼遭到基督教驱魔人的折磨时，就会坦白其阴谋（《护教篇》c. 22）——沃本注

朱庇特（和合本《圣经》称“丢斯”）为罗马神话中的主神，相当于希腊人的宙斯；埃斯库拉庇乌斯（希腊文读法为“阿斯克勒庇俄斯”）为希腊-罗马神话中的医神；维纳斯为爱神和美神，相当于希腊神话中的阿芙罗狄忒；阿波罗为希腊-罗马神话中的太阳、光明与真理之神。在笃信一神教的基督徒眼中，这些多神教的神祇皆是乱人心性的魔鬼化身。——译者注

(68) 奇迹（Miracle）是基督教神学的重要概念之一，它既是上帝能力的彰显，亦是天国临近的标记。依《福音书》记载，耶稣就曾多次行驱魔、治病、复活死人等奇迹。但奇迹仅是救恩显示的标记，不足以成为信仰的基础；人只有先信耶稣，奇迹才有意义。因此，耶稣曾拒绝以行奇迹作为招徕信众的手段；与此相反，魔鬼则乐于行之。——译者注

(69) 德尔图良曾写过一系列遣词严峻的文章来反对偶像崇拜，警告自己的基督教弟兄们不要触犯戒律、遭致频繁的危险。参阅德尔图良：《论士兵的花环》c. 10。——柏本注

(70) 罗马元老院经常在神庙或其他圣所开会（奥鲁斯·格利乌斯：《阿提卡之夜》卷十四c. 7）。进入正式议程之前，每位元老都要在祭坛前洒下酒和乳香粉，参阅苏维托尼乌斯：《神圣的奥古斯都传》c. 35。——沃本注

(71) 参阅德尔图良：《论戏剧》。这位严厉的护教士对欧里庇得斯的悲剧和角斗士的搏杀一样不抱好感。演员的装束尤其令他反感。他们脚着厚底的半高筒靴，试图使自己的身高看起来多出几尺，这是很不虔敬的行为（《论戏剧》c. 23）。——柏本注

(72) 按照古时的习俗，在每一正式场合，当宴饮结束时都要奠酒祭神。苏格拉底和塞涅卡在临终之际亦不忘这一高贵习俗。“最后，他把自己泡在一盆热水里面，用盆里的一些水洒在他身旁的那些奴隶身上，并说这是向解放者朱庇特行灌奠之礼。”（塔西佗：《编年史》卷十五c. 64）——柏本注

(73) 参阅卡图卢斯（前84—前54，罗马诗人）《歌集》中关于曼里乌斯与朱丽亚婚礼的诗篇：“啊，婚姻之神，叙梅纳乌斯，降临吧！谁得与这位神灵相提并论？”这一诗作文辞优雅但充满偶像崇拜风气。——柏本注

(74) 维吉尔（前70—前19，出生于高卢，罗马三大诗人之一）对古代葬礼的描述（例如《埃涅阿斯纪》中米瑟努斯和帕拉斯的葬礼），其准确度毫不亚于其评论者塞维鲁的记录。火葬堆本身即是一个神坛，焚烧死人的火焰被淋上牺牲物的鲜血，所有帮手身上都洒了辟邪的符水。——柏本注

(75) 德尔图良：《论偶像崇拜》c. 11。——柏本注

(76) 参阅蒙福孔（1655—1741，法国考古学家）：《古代史》各章。即使是希腊和罗马人所铸硬币的图案也经常带有偶像崇拜的性质。讽刺的是，在这一问题上，基督徒的义愤却首先让位于他们对财富的热情了。——沃本注

早期的罗马铜币正面铸有雅努斯、朱庇特、密涅瓦等神祇的造像；帝国建立之后，新铸金银币多以皇帝及其妻儿的头像作为图案。在基督徒眼里，这些都属于偶像崇拜的恶俗。——译者注

(77) 此处及前文注释中的“教父”（Father）并非今日习见的神职称谓，而是特指早期教会史上一批教会领袖、宗教作家和宣教师，即基督教早期教父（Early Church Fathers）。教父以推崇正统教义为主要特征，在2—5世纪最为活跃，他们上承圣经神学，下启经院神学，所遗作品多为神学中的经典，但不列入《新约》正典之内。习惯上，使徒以后初代至二代（公元95—150年间）的教父称使徒教父（Apostolic Fathers），2世纪中叶后的教父称护教士（Apologists），其后以两次尼西亚公会议（325年、787年）为界，之间的教父习称为尼西亚教父，再后则进入经院神学时期。以历史时间为序，正统教义的传承路线依次为：基督门徒→使徒→使徒教父→护教士→尼西亚教父→经院神学家。而在尼西亚教父中，前期（4、5世纪）多有以希腊文写作者，又称希腊教父；后期（7、8世纪）则多以拉丁文写作者，称拉丁教父。——译者注

(78) 参阅德尔图良：《论偶像崇拜》c. 20，21，22。如果一位异教徒友人（在例如打喷嚏一类的场合）使用“朱庇特保佑你”这类习语，基督徒也有义务作出抗议，因为基督教否认朱庇特具有神性。——沃本注

(79) 参阅奥维德（前43—18，罗马三大诗人之一）最花心思但未能完成的著作《岁时记》。他至多写完了关于一年中前六个月的部分。马克罗比乌斯（395—423，罗马文法家、新柏拉图主义哲学家）曾写过一部题为《农神节》的著作，但此书第一卷只有极少部分与其标题相关。——柏本注

(80) 希腊神话有云：阿波罗追求水中仙女达佛涅（Daphne），后者坚决不从，要求其父河神珀涅乌斯将她变为一株月桂树。阿波罗拥抱了这棵树，从此月桂即成为阿波罗（文中所谓“热恋达佛涅者”）的圣树。奥维德在《变形记》曾述及此事。希腊习俗中，为纪念阿波罗，每四年在德尔斐举行一次皮提亚竞技会，优胜者获得月桂叶编成的冠冕，即为今日“桂冠”一词的由来。——译者注

(81) 曾有一名信奉基督教的罗马士兵公然扔掉其月桂枝花环，这一举动当即就将他本人和同教兄弟暴露于危险之中。德尔图良曾就此鲁莽之举写过一篇辩护辞，或者说颂辞。鉴于该文提到了几位皇帝（塞维鲁和卡拉卡拉），显然提勒孟特宣称的“德尔图良的专文《论士兵的花环》写作于他误入孟他努派异端之前许多年”一说就很成问题了。参阅提勒孟特：《提供教会首六世纪之历史数据》卷三，第384页。——柏本注

塞维鲁（145—211）和卡拉卡拉（186—217）分别于193—211年和211—217年在位，而德尔图良加入孟他努派当在207年前后。《论士兵的花环》既然提及卡拉卡拉之名，则成书时间不可能早于211年。——译者注

(82) 尤见于《图斯库兰谈话》第一卷、专文《论老年》和《西庇阿之梦》相关章节，作者文笔优美，希腊哲学或罗马人关于善的观念在这一阴郁但关键问题上的态度可以一览无余。——柏本注

(83) 灵魂的预先存在，至少是这种观点与宗教相符合的部分，为许多希腊和拉丁教父所接受。参阅博叟贝：《摩尼教史》卷六c. 4。——柏本注

(84) 参阅西塞罗：《为克鲁恩求斯辩护》c. 61；恺撒：《高卢战记》c. 50；尤文纳尔：《讽刺诗》卷二第149：“尘世多鬼魂，地下有王国，童子信无疑，老成固不虑。”——柏本注

(85) 《奥德赛》第十一卷对阴曹地府作了一番阴郁而不合逻辑的描述。品达（前522—前443，希腊抒情诗人）和维吉尔又对这幅场景再作雕琢；但即使这些诗人的作品比起他们的伟大范本已经准确了许多，其中依然存在极古怪的矛盾之处。参阅皮埃尔·贝尔：《对一位修会省长质疑的回应》第三部分c. 22。——沃本注

(86) 参阅贺拉斯（前65—前8，罗马三大诗人之一）：《书信集》卷一书信第16，尤文纳尔（1世纪罗马诗人）：《讽刺诗》第13，佩尔西乌斯（34—62，罗马诗人）：《讽刺诗》第2；这些广为人知的论说表达了当时大部分人的情感和心声。——柏本注

(87) 倘我们仅观察高卢人的情况，则当地土著不仅相信灵魂不灭，甚至还认为今生赚得的财富对来世的福祉也有影响。“高卢人的旧俗切不可忘”（瓦勒里乌斯·马克西穆斯：《经典事迹与格言：古罗马故事一千则》卷二c. 6-10），“凡借予人的钱财，来世必可得偿还，有据可查”。梅拉也曾含混地暗示这一迷信的存在。更毋须赘言，当地人认为经商所得的收益与商人的信用成正比，今日的德鲁伊教徒即继承了这一神格，而其他人则甚少公开宣扬此信条。——柏本注

(88) 亚伦（Aaron）为摩西之兄，利未人。他随摩西率以色列人出埃及，在耶路撒冷建立安放约柜的圣所。神在西奈山与以色列人立约时，就选召亚伦作第一位大祭司，以后由他的子孙世代相袭。其事参阅《出埃及记》第29、第40章，《民数记》第3章各节。——译者注

(89) 《摩西的神性使命》一书的可敬作者，为这一疏忽炮制了一个古怪的理由，并巧妙地就此对不信之人就行了驳斥。——柏本注

两卷本《摩西的神性使命》（全称为《以自然神论原理所证明的摩西的神性使命）出版于1737—1741年，作者威廉·沃伯顿（1698—1779）是英国古典学家、文艺批评家，也是资深教士和格洛斯特教区主教。——译者注

(90) 前者指埃及人流亡歌珊地时期，遭受埃及法老迫害一事；后者指第一圣殿被毁后以色列人被掳往巴比伦一事。——译者注

(91) 参阅勒克莱：《教会史》绪论第一部分c. 8。鉴于勒克莱曾对《旧约》做过一番博学而审慎的注释，他的观点似乎具有较大的权威性。——柏本注

(92) “巴比伦之囚”时代满70年后，巴比伦为波斯所灭（前539年）。波斯大帝居鲁士为以色列人的宗教虔诚打动，下诏允许其返回耶路撒冷、重建圣殿。犹大支派首领设巴萨乃率20万遗民重归圣地，建立第二圣殿。至前468年薛西斯王在位时，亚伦的后人、另一犹太文士以斯拉（Ezra）也重归耶路撒冷，他重新考订耶和华的律法，以其训诫以色列人，洁净腐化的祭司制度，并恢复修编此前一度中断的犹太教历史。其间的种种事迹，载于《旧约·以斯拉记》。——译者注

(93) 约瑟法斯：《犹太古史》卷十三，c. 10。撒都该人只承认《摩西五经》属于正典，认为其最原本地反映了主的意旨；但一些现代评论家把“先知书”也加入到了这一派的信条中，并认为他们乐于拒斥法利赛人的传统。约尔丁博士在《教会史》卷二第103页的附注中争论了这一问题。——柏本注

(94) 前167年，犹地亚的犹太祭司马卡比家族发动反塞琉古王朝的起义，于前140年建立独立的以色列哈斯谟尼王国，恢复第二圣殿。前63年，哈斯谟尼王国为罗马所征服，成为叙利亚行省的附庸。——译者注

(95) 在《新约·福音书》中，耶稣以“人子”（Son of Man）自称，表示自己虽是神的儿子，但降世成为人的样式，以人的形体代替世人承受死的刑罚，作世人的赎价。但这一内涵仅存在于《新约》时代，《旧约》中出现的“人子”（《以西结书》4:16、8:15）与一般的“人”含义相同。——译者注

(96) 这一期待可为《马太福音》第24章及《帖撒罗尼迦前书》所证实。伊拉斯谟（1466—1536，文艺复兴时代宗教哲学家、天主教徒）借助寓言和隐喻消解了难以意会之处；博学的格劳秀斯（1583—1645，荷兰法学家、政治哲学家，亦为阿米纽派神学家）为明辨事理，勇于影射教义中存有虔敬的诈术。——沃本注

(97) 千禧年（Millennium）这一名词在《圣经》中并未出现过，仅在《启示录》第20章有“他（天使）捉住那龙，……把它捆绑一千年”以及“那些因为给耶稣作见证，并为神之道被斩者的灵魂，和那没有拜过兽与兽像，也没有在额上和手上受过它印记之人的灵魂，他们都复活了，与基督一同作王一千年”等字句。后世遂有学者及信徒认为，基督将再临人间，亲自作王一千年。围绕这一命题衍生的各种学说和传闻，统称为千禧年学说。——译者注

(98) 参阅伯内特：《地球神圣理论》第三部分c. 5。这一传说或许可以一直追溯到《巴拿巴书》的作者，该书写成于1世纪，作者可能有一半犹太血统。——柏本注

“以利亚”在希伯来文中意为“我的神是耶和华”。这位先知生活于旧约时代的前9世纪中叶，生前忍受诸多痛苦，但恪尽先知之责，死后得以升天。关于其事迹，参阅《列王纪》各章。《新约》认为，以利亚的任务是要来宣布救主的降临（《马太福音》17:9-13）。《巴拿巴书》则是使徒时代以希腊文写成的一份书信体文献，其中包含以寓意法解释《旧约》的内容，作者据传是使徒保罗的同工巴拿巴。——译者注

(99) 安提阿的早期教会认为，从《创世记》到耶稣诞生约经6000年。尤利乌斯·亚非利加努斯（3世纪史家、早期千禧年主义者）、拉克唐修和希腊教会将这一时间缩减到了5500年，而优西比乌本人认为5200年最为可信。他们计算的依据基于公元后最初6世纪普遍受认可的《七十子希腊文本圣经》（前3世纪依据希伯来文圣经翻译的希腊文版本）。拉丁文《圣经》和希伯来文《圣经》的权威则令今日的信徒（不管是新教徒还是天主教徒）将这一段历史计算为4000年左右；尽管在对异教遗迹进行考察之后，他们经常发现将这段时间定的如此之短会带来诸多问题。——柏本注

作为一种旁证，《新约·彼得后书》3:8中曾出现“主看一日如千年，千年如一日”的字句。——译者注

(100) 这类图景中的绝大部分是借自对《以赛亚书》《但以理书》和《启示录》的歪曲。对这类图景的最完整罗列可见于爱任纽的著作（《驳异端》卷四c. 23），后者乃是帕皮亚的弟子，而帕皮亚曾亲见使徒约翰。——柏本注

(101) 参阅查士丁与特来弗的第二次对话，及拉克唐修：《神学原理》卷七。没有必要列举其间的所有教父，因为事实并不存在争议。感兴趣的读者可参阅让·达耶（1594—1670，法国胡格诺派神学家）：《通行教父真意》卷三c. 4。——柏本注

(102) 查士丁曾依据千禧年学说，对他本人和正统派同教兄弟的信仰进行说明，文风清晰庄敬（本笃会版《反特来弗对话录》，第177、178页）。如果这份重要文本的开头存在某些矛盾之处，我们要么将之归咎于作者，要么归咎于其抄写员。——柏本注

(103) 参阅迪潘（1657—1719，法国教会史家）：《教会作家丛书新集》卷一第223页、卷二第366页，及莫斯海姆：《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》，第720页。尽管后者在这一问题上的看法不够坦率。——柏本注

(104) 在劳迪西亚大公会议（约360年，劳迪西亚即今叙利亚的拉塔基亚）上，《启示录》被默默地自《圣经》正典中删除了，提出这一动议的诸亚细亚教会也是当初将《启示录》纳入正典的同一批人；从苏比西乌·塞维鲁的抱怨中我们可以推断，这一决议也得到了同一时期大批基督徒的批准。那么为什么到了今天《启示录》却能为希腊东正教会、罗马天主教会与新教教会所普遍采信呢？可能是出于以下原因。1．希腊人可能为一名活跃于6世纪、僭窃大法官丢尼修（《使徒行传》17:34中提及的皈依基督的希腊人，伪丢尼修则是活跃于500年前后的叙利亚教父，著有《天阶序论》）之名的骗徒的权威所压服。2．在天主教特兰托大公会议审查通行的拉丁文《圣经》全书、确保其准确无误时，文法教师恐怕比神学家发挥的作用更重要，《启示录》就这样幸运地被放了过去（参阅保罗·萨尔皮：《特兰托公会史》卷二）。3．新教徒发现可以借用《启示录》中的神秘预言来反对罗马教廷，这一好处使得他们对《启示录》这一实用的盟友抱有少见的尊崇。可参阅现任利奇菲尔德主教就这一问题发表的思虑独到、言辞文雅的讲演。——沃本注

(105) 《彼得前书》5:13和《启示录》中提及的“巴比伦”可能就是影射罗马。关于巴比伦的灭亡，参阅《启示录》第18、第21章各节。——译者注

(106) 拉克唐修曾以卓越的精神和修辞术描绘过关于未来的可怕传说（《神学原理》卷七c. 15以下）。——柏本注

(107) 此处指普布利乌斯·科尔内利乌斯·西庇阿（前235—前183），即大西庇阿，第二次布匿战争时的罗马军统帅，曾击败汉尼拔。——译者注

(108) 罗马城建筑于台伯河下游平原的七座小山丘之上，因此得别名“七山之城”。下文有述及“台伯河两岸之地”的，亦指罗马。——译者注

(109) 依《创世记》所载，因世人行不义，耶和华决意降灾灭绝罪人，于是使洪水泛滥四十日。多数动物和人都得死绝，只有义人诺亚和那些同在方舟里的人及动物得以保全。——译者注

(110) 神对罗马的处置，与《旧约》中提及的所多玛之毁灭似有关联。所多玛与蛾摩拉因为罪大恶极，被神降下大火毁灭（《创世记》19:24-28）。永不熄灭的烈火亦出现在《新约》对地狱的描述中（《马太福音》25:41，《彼得后书》2:4-11）。——译者注

(111) 在这一问题上，每位有兴趣的读者都可参阅伯内特所著《地球神圣理论》第三部分。他将哲学、《圣经》与传说杂糅于一个庞大体系内；在对这一问题的阐述上，伯内特的想象力丝毫不亚于弥尔顿本人。——沃本注

(112) 然而，尽管个别人可能存有不同意见，这一论断已然成为一切基督教会的通行信条；甚至我们自己也无法拒绝承认从教会宪典第八和第十八条中导出的这一结论。——柏本注

(113) 查士丁及亚历山大的克莱门都认为这些哲学家中的一部分受到逻各斯（Logos）的指引；他们将逻各斯与人类理性/圣言（Divine Word）的双重表意混为一谈。——柏本注

(114) 德尔图良：《论戏剧》，c. 30。要证实德尔图良这位狂热的阿非利加教父已经获得的权威度，或许可以断言西普里安（？—258，即迦太基的西普里安，早期拉丁教父、德尔图良的学生）的证词已经足够了，后者是一位博士，当时是罗马帝国所有西部教会的导师。每当西普里安开始对德尔图良著作的日常学习时，他都会习惯性地说一句：“请将主的正道赐我。”（耶柔米：《论众名人》，卷一第284页）。——柏本注

吉本此处引述的《论戏剧》原文，与今日传世的版本出入甚多。更加完整和可信的全文，参阅涂世华译：《护教篇》，上海三联书店2007年版，第126-151页。——译者注

(115) 尽管米德尔顿博士（1683—1750，英国教士、神学家）对此问题托辞规避，但试图搞清这类可能在使徒教父身上出现过的幻景和灵感的全貌依然是不可能的。——柏本注

(116) 爱任纽：《驳异端》序第3页。米德尔顿博士注意到，由于这类自夸很难为实践所支持，很快就遭到放弃。这一现象与他的假说相吻合。——柏本注

(117) 阿忒那哥拉斯：《护教篇》，殉道者查士丁：《驳希腊人》，德尔图良：《驳马克安》卷四。这些描述与西塞罗不甚感兴趣的“先知的暴怒”（《论神性》卷二c. 54）之类差别也不算很大。——柏本注

(118) 德尔图良对异教的裁判官施以无畏的蔑视（《护教篇》c. 23）。在原初神迹之中，只有驱魔的能力这一项被新教徒所承认和接受。——柏本注

(119) 爱任纽：《驳异端》卷二c. 56、57，卷五c. 6。多德韦尔博士推断各种奇迹在2世纪较之1世纪更为盛行（《论爱任纽》卷二c. 42）。——柏本注

(120) 提阿非罗：《论奥托吕库斯》（巴黎1742年版），卷一第345页。——柏本注

提阿非罗（？—183）是使徒以来第六任安提阿主教，其三部以“论奥托吕库斯”为题的著作均着力叙述基本要道。其事参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷四c. 24。——译者注

(121) 米德尔顿博士在1747年发表其绪论，1749年印行其《对超凡力量的自由研究》，在1750年去世之前，他已经准备好了驳斥其诸多论敌的辩护词。——柏本注

(122) 牛津大学曾向非国教徒授予学位。我们从莫斯海姆的愤慨（《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》，第221页）可以想见路德派神学家的态度。——柏本注

(123) 值得一提的是，克莱沃的伯尔纳德（即圣伯尔纳德）曾记录下关于其友人圣玛拉基的诸多奇迹，但从未提及他自己的情况。而圣伯尔纳德的灵异事迹又是由他本人的伙伴和门徒加以详细论述的。在漫长的教会史上，到底是否存在哪怕一位敢于宣称自己就拥有施行奇迹的天赋的圣徒呢？——沃本注

尊者比德（673—735）系英国中古时代编年史家、神学家，本笃会修士，曾著《盎格鲁人教会史》。圣伯尔纳德（1091—1153）系法国灵修学家、隐修会士和天主教圣师，曾发起第二次十字军东征。——译者注

(124) 新教徒认为这一时代就是君士坦丁一世改宗基督教之时（313年）。较为理性的神学家不愿承认4世纪的奇迹，就连更轻信者也不愿承认到5世纪还有奇迹存在。——沃本注

阿里乌（Arius，约250—336）出生于北非，曾为亚历山大里亚宗主教。他否定“三一论”，认为上帝、圣子性体不同，基督不是圣父所生而是圣父所造，因而没有神性。拥戴其主张的阿里乌派盛行于4世纪，在325年第一次尼西亚公会议上被宣布为异端。——译者注

(125) 拉斐尔（1483—1520）与科雷乔（1489—1534）均为文艺复兴时代意大利名画家。——译者注

(126) 小施潘海姆（1632—1701，德国路德宗教会史家）曾经对塞尔苏斯（2世纪新柏拉图主义哲人，反对基督教）和尤利安（331—363，即背教者尤利安，361—363年为罗马皇帝，信仰多神教）加诸教会的污蔑，以及教父们的自辩进行过公正的阐述，参阅施潘海姆：《对尤利安皇帝的阐释》，第468页。——柏本注

塞尔苏斯（Celsus）是第一位从异教角度攻击基督教的哲人，今日所遗关于其人的学说，主要见于奥利金的八篇题为《真言》（亦名《驳塞尔苏斯》）的批驳文章。参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷六c. 36，但优氏误将塞尔苏斯当作了犬儒派。至于尤利安皇帝的生平，可参阅梅列日科夫斯基才华横溢的小说：《诸神死了：背教者尤利安》。——译者注

(127) 小普林尼：《书信集》卷十第97。——柏本注

小普林尼，即盖尤斯·普林尼乌斯·采西利尤斯·塞孔都斯（61-112），古罗马律师、作家、元老，图拉真在位时曾任小亚细亚西北的比提尼亚-本都行省总督（110—112）。吉本所述之事引自普氏《书信集》卷十第97，主题为“论基督徒的处理”，这也是最早述及耶稣其人的非基督教文献。——译者注

(128) 德尔图良：《护教篇》c. 44。不过他又带着一点犹疑补充说：“倘若这人因着什么原因被判了死刑，他就已不再是基督徒了。”——柏本注

(129) 哲人伯列格林努斯（关于此人的生平，琉善曾给我们留下一份有趣的文本）在相当长一段时间利用了亚细亚基督徒的轻信和天真。——沃本注

伯列格林努斯（95—165）出生于密西亚，曾在巴勒斯坦的基督徒中生活过相当长时间，后因背教而遭驱逐，前往希腊成为犬儒派哲人。他在165年的一次公开演说中突然自杀，并在当年奥林匹克运动会上被火化，这一事件由琉善（125—180，以希腊文写作的罗马讽刺作家、辩论家，无神论者）改编成讽刺故事《伯列格林努斯之死》。——译者注

(130) 参阅让·巴贝拉克（1674—1744，法国法学家）贤明的专著《教父之德》。——柏本注

(131) 拉克唐修：《神学原理》卷六c. 20，21,22。——柏本注

(132) 参阅亚历山大的克莱门的一部著作，题为《论教育者》，其中包含有基督教伦理学的基础知识，这些知识曾在众多知名的基督教学校中被传授给门生。——柏本注

(133) 依《创世记》28:10-15所述，亚伯拉罕之孙雅各在前往哈兰途中曾以石头为枕、席地而卧，梦见耶和华赐伯特利的土地给他。——译者注

(134) 德尔图良：《护教篇》c. 23。亚历山大的克莱门：《论教育者》卷三c. 8。——柏本注

(135) 博叟贝：《摩尼教史》卷七c. 3。查士丁、尼撒的格列高里（335—394后，希腊教父，“三位一体”教义的拥护者）、奥古斯丁等人极为赞成这一观点。——柏本注

(136) 一些灵知派异端分子更加坚决，他们完全抵制婚姻。——柏本注

(137) 参阅从殉道者查士丁到耶柔米的一系列传说，见巴贝拉克：《教父之德》卷四6-26。——柏本注

依前文所述，尽管《创世记》以一夫一妻作为上帝的本意，但以色列人在整个《旧约》时代并未严格遵行此法，多妻之状十分常见，离婚亦很简单（如《申命记》第24章各节），只在《玛拉基书》中存有婚姻“不可拆散”的字句。《新约》时代后，基督本人重申《创世记》古意和《玛拉基书》的字句，并在登山宝训中着重指出不可奸淫、休妻等事。围绕这一问题的义理争端亦多，例如“不得离婚”一事《旧约》向无提及，只在《新约》各书信和福音书中存在。——译者注

(138) 参阅一篇关于灶神问题的极有趣论文，载《碑铭研究纪要》卷四第161-227页。尽管这些贞女可以获得诸多荣誉和奖赏，要凑够足够的数量依然很难；即使是对暴死的恐惧也并非总能阻止她们破戒。——沃本注

(139) 米努修（生平不详，是最早的拉丁护教士）：《屋大维》c. 31，查士丁：《护教辞》c. 28，德尔图良：《论女性服饰》卷二。——柏本注

(140) 优西比乌：《教会史》卷六c. 8。在奥利金的名声引起嫉妒和迫害之前，他的这种离奇之举多被人所推崇，很少遭到责难。此公一向惯以寓言方式解释《圣经》，然而不幸的是，他单单在这一问题上抠起了字眼。——沃本注

奥利金的“抠字眼”，是指他发现福音书中有“为天国的缘故自阉”的字句（《马太福音》19:21），遂轻率地自宫了。——译者注

(141) 西普里安：《书信》第4，及多德韦尔：《关于西普里安的论文》卷三。多年之后，人们认定封特弗罗隐修院的创始人曾犯下此类轻浮之举。皮埃尔·贝尔在这一微妙话题上有过自娱且娱人的论述。——沃本注

封特弗罗女子隐修院位于法国安茹省，创建于1100年，创始人是巡回传教士阿尔比瑟的罗贝尔（1045—1116）。——译者注

(142) 迪潘提供了一份包含十位贞女的对话的详尽文本（《教会作家丛书新集》卷一第195页），作者是提尔（属叙利亚行省）都主教麦托丢。其中对童贞的赞誉显然是过了头。——沃本注

(143) 早在2世纪，苦修者（Ascetics）就公开宣称要克己制欲，禁绝酒肉。参阅莫斯海姆：《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》，第310页。——柏本注

(144) 参阅《教父之德》。自宗教改革时代以来，相同的容忍之道又被索齐尼派、再洗礼派和贵格派信徒再度拾起。贵格派护教士罗伯特·巴克莱（1648—1690）曾以早期基督徒的权威性为其教友辩护，参阅《为真基督宗教神学辩护》，第542-549页。——沃本注

(145) 犹太人设立君王或祭司时，要用膏油浇在被立者的头上。因此，君主有时也被称为“受膏者”（Anointment）。——译者注

(146) 德尔图良：《护教篇》c. 21；《论偶像崇拜》c. 17、18。奥利金：《驳塞尔苏斯》卷五第253页，卷七第349页，卷八第423-428页。——柏本注

(147) 德尔图良曾建议他们采取开小差这一权宜之计（《论士兵的花环》c. 11）；如果这一建议也被人所共知，恐怕对培养皇帝对基督教派的好感无甚益处。——柏本注

(148) 奥利金的论敌塞尔苏斯以强劲的力量和直率的态度提出一系列反对意见，实际上，我们从奥利金留下的残篇中得到的结论大致与塞尔苏斯相同（《驳塞尔苏斯》卷八第423页）。——柏本注

(149) 语出《马太福音》10:16-17：“耶稣差十二个门徒去传道，给他们权柄并嘱咐他们所当行的。耶稣又说：‘我差你们去，如同羊进入狼群；所以你们要灵巧像蛇，驯良像鸽子。你们要防备人’。”——译者注

(150) 法国和英国的贵族党派强烈赞成主教一职源自神意，因而具有正当性。但信奉加尔文主义的教士拒绝容忍这样的“上级”；罗马教宗也拒绝承认有人可以与他平起平坐。参阅保罗·萨尔皮：《特兰托公会史》。——沃本注

(151) 对基督教会圣统制演化的历史考察方面，笔者大体赞同博学而公正的莫斯海姆。——柏本注

(152) 关于原初教会中的先知，参阅莫斯海姆：《教会史》卷二第132-208页。——柏本注

先知（Prophet）亦称“先见”，为神的代言人，负责将神的旨意传给人。神使先知能见异象、明白将来要发生的事，也使他能行神迹、奇事。《圣经·旧约》从《以赛亚书》到《玛拉基书》均为先知所写，被称为《先知书》。——译者注

(153) 参阅《新约·哥林多前书》及《哥林多后书》相关章节。——柏本注

(154) 参阅理查德·胡克（1554—1600，英国国教牧师、神学家）：《论教会政体的法》卷七。——柏本注

需要注意的是，此处及下文的“长老”一词指英文Presbyter，在今日的新教语境中，该词可以和Priest（祭司、司铎、神父）甚至Minister（执事、牧师）混用，仅区别于Bishop（主教）。但在本文所述的时代，Presbyter相当于Bishop的雏形，却与Priest、Minister有着清楚的位阶分别。——译者注

(155) 参阅耶柔米：《论〈提多书〉与〈腓利门书〉》卷一及《书信》第85，以及布隆德（1590—1655，法国教会史家、新教牧师）的精心著述：《向耶柔米致歉》。耶柔米所述亚历山大里亚宗主教和众长老在古时的境况，从优提克乌斯宗主教（512—582，拜占庭神学家，两度为君士坦丁堡总主教）的著作中可以获得有力的证实；笔者认为此一证言实难反驳，尽管博学的皮尔逊（1613—1686，英国国教主教、神学家）在其著作《为圣伊格纳修书信的真实性辩护》卷一c. 11中对此存有异议。

〔倘若伊格纳修真是在图拉真治下受难，且今日托于其名下的书信确实可信，则我们可以推断在2世纪初，主教政制已在东方省份的一些教会中建立起来，伊格纳修的书信已经提及了这种制度。〕——柏本注

(156) 参阅《启示录》相关介绍。以神使之名，主教（Bishop）一职已设立于亚细亚省的七个城市。但我们从《革利免书》（可能完成于更早的年代）中却不能发现主教制度曾存在于哥林多或罗马的任何痕迹。

《革利免一书》（《革利免二书》系伪作）被公认作于公元100年前后；这是一封罗马教会致哥林多教会的申斥信。作者被一些人认为应是弗拉维乌斯·克莱门斯，他是图密善皇帝的外甥女婿，后来却因信仰基督教遭图密善处死。也有人认为作者是克莱门斯手下一个获释的奴隶（莱特福特在其《使徒教父》中注疏此信时即采此说）。——柏本注

(157) 自德尔图良和爱任纽的时代以来，“无教会，无主教”既是一句格言，也是不争的事实。——柏本注

(158) 度过了1世纪的艰难时光后，我们发现教会政制已经普遍地建立起来，直到它被瑞士和德意志宗教改革家的共和精神所颠覆。——沃本注

(159) 参阅莫斯海姆《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》中关于1世纪和2世纪的章节。伊格纳修甚喜夸大主教的威严（《士每拿书》c. 8以下）。勒克莱坦率地责难了此一行为（《教会史》第569页）。莫斯海姆则以更挑剔的态度怀疑伊格纳修的可信度，甚至认为圣伊格纳修七书中更短的篇目也是伪作（《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》第161页）。——柏本注

安提阿的伊格纳修（35/50—98与117之间）系使徒约翰的门徒，68—107年为安提阿主教，后被掷于罗马斗兽场而殉道。在从叙利亚被押赴罗马途中，他曾写过七封信给教会，以《士每拿书》最为著名。其中忠告教友拒绝异端、服从主教，因为“哪里有主教，哪里就有基督”。日后教会根据他的言论，继续建立教阶制度。其事见优西比乌：《教会史》卷三c. 36。——译者注

(160) 德尔图良《贞洁劝言》c. 7有云：“我们这班平信徒不也是祭司吗？”鉴于人性不变，休谟（1711—1776，启蒙时代哲人、怀疑论者）在《论迷信与宗教狂热》中举出的一些例证大概真的是得了某种天启。——柏本注

(161) 邻保同盟（Amphictyonic League）系古希腊早期常见的部族同盟形式，特定神殿或圣地周边的城邦国家组成同盟，共同负责神殿的维护和祭祀的进行。因为神殿中蓄有各国奉纳的黄金，这类同盟往往带有浓厚的政治色彩，经常与战争相连。其名称得自希腊语“邻人”，词源为神话英雄安菲特律翁（Amphictyon）。亚该亚同盟（Achaean League）系古希腊晚期伯罗奔尼撒半岛北部的城邦同盟，先后有10—12国加入，每两年举行一次全体公民会议，决定重大方针并选举同盟代表。爱奥尼亚城邦大会则是7世纪中叶爱琴海沿岸12个希腊城邦组成的政治同盟，亦称帕尼奥尼同盟（Panionic League），希罗多德《历史》对其有所述及。——译者注

(162) 《西普里安治下迦太基宗教会议决议》，第158页。这一宗教会议由毛里塔尼亚、努米底亚和阿非利加行省的87名主教组成；一些长老和执事也出席了大会，当然亦有平信徒混杂其间。——柏本注

(163) “在希腊的某些省份，宗教会议聚集于某些特定之地。”（德尔图良：《论斋戒》c. 13）这位阿非利加教父将其作为新近出现的异邦制度加以论述。莫斯海姆曾对基督教会的联盟进行过精当的诠释，参阅《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》第164-170页。——柏本注

(164) 西普里安在其可敬的专著《论教会联合》第75-86页做如是说。——柏本注

(165) 大祭司（High Priest）是在每年的赎罪日进入至圣所为以色列民在上帝面前赎罪的祭司。依《旧约》所述，大祭司由亚伦子孙担当，既要受膏、又要穿圣衣（《出埃及记》29:29）。——译者注

(166) 倘若我们欲了解西普里安的生平、学说及所遗信札的要旨，则可参阅勒克莱著作中关于西普里安生平的一小节（《有关普世学问及历史丛书》卷十二第207-378页），其文直白精准，剖析精当。——柏本注

(167) 如果诺瓦替安、费利奇西穆斯之类，被西普里安从迦太基教会和阿非利加省驱逐出去的异端分子并非最可恶的邪恶妖魔，则西普里安的狂热显然在某些时候压倒了实事求是的态度。关于这场内容繁杂的论战，莫斯海姆提供了一个极为公正的文本，参阅《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》第497-512页。——沃本注

诺瓦替安（约200—258）原为罗马教会长老，因为严厉反对背教者重新加入教会，引发西方教会著名的“诺瓦替安分裂”。其学说属于严格正统派，主张教会无最终的定罪权和赦罪权，不为教会主流所容。其人言行参见优西比乌：《教会史》卷六c. 43“诺瓦替安异端”一节。费利奇西穆斯（？—258）原为迦太基教会执事，因为反对西普里安的意见，不接受背教者悔改后可重新入教的规定，于251年被革出教门。——译者注

(168) 莫斯海姆：《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》，第269、第574页；迪潘：《论古代教会的纪律》第19、第20页。——柏本注

(169) 德尔图良曾专门撰文，辩称早期异端教会没有颁行教规的权利，这一权利独掌于使徒教会之手。——柏本注

(170) 使徒彼得前往罗马一事，曾被大多数古人所述及（参优西比乌：《教会史》卷二c. 25），一切天主教徒对此都大加维护，一些新教徒也承认这段事迹（参阅皮尔逊：《为圣伊格纳修书信的真实性辩护》及多德韦尔：《罗马主教的胜利》）。不过小施潘海姆对此加以竭力攻击（《神学杂集》卷三c. 3）。17世纪修士阿杜安教父（1646—1729，法国经学家、教会史家、耶稣会士）曾对维吉尔的名作《埃涅阿斯纪》进行重新解读，他认为特洛伊英雄实际上是使徒彼得形象的文学化。——柏本注

“使徒二人”指彼得与保罗。彼得（1—64，即西门·彼得）原是加利利的渔夫，在其兄安得烈引荐下成为耶稣最初的门徒之一，耶稣殉难后为十二使徒之首席。他首创罗马教会，又主持公元48年第一次基督宗教会议，确立向外邦人传福音的方针。《新约》中的《彼得前书》和《彼得后书》系他应神感召而作，后于67年殉道。罗马教会奉彼得为耶稣所选的第一任罗马教宗，亦是首任安提阿宗主教。保罗（前5—67）原是出生在西里西亚的犹太侨民，他恪守犹太教传统、反对基督，后受奇迹启示，皈依主的门下。47—57年，他曾三次出发进行布道旅行，足迹遍及亚细亚、帖撒罗尼迦、哥林多、以弗所等地，67年在罗马殉道。——译者注

(171) 只有在法语当中，彼得的姓氏所含的隐喻才最为适切：“你是彼得，我要把我的教会建造在这磐石上。”（Tu es Pierre, et sur cette pierre…）在希腊语、拉丁语和意大利语中，“彼得”与“磐石”在字面上都不对应，在条顿语系中更是毫不相干。——沃本注

原注中的引文选自《马太福音》16:18，系耶稣对彼得本人所言。在法语中，“彼得”这一姓氏与“磐石”一词均写作Pierre，属一种双关。——译者注

(172) 参阅爱任纽：《驳异端》卷三c. 3；德尔图良：《给异端的处方》c. 36；西普里安：《书信》第27、第55、第71、第75。勒克莱（《教会史》第764页）和莫斯海姆（《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》，第258、第578页）分别阐释了以上章节。不过教父们恣肆浮夸的文风往往对罗马教会的虚荣有利。——柏本注

(173) 参阅恺撒利亚主教菲尔米里安（？—269）写给罗马教宗司提反一世的尖刻书信，附于西普里安：《书信》第75。——柏本注

(174) 布匿战争（Punic Wars）系公元前264年至前146年间，罗马共和国与迦太基之间的三次战争，罗马人称迦太基人为“布匿”，故名。汉尼拔系第二次布匿战争时期迦太基统帅，曾在坎尼会战中大败罗马军队，但终为大西庇阿败于扎马。迦太基在第三次布匿战争后亡国，故地成为罗马的阿非利加行省。因为文中述及的宗教斗争恰好发生于迦太基故地，所以吉本采用了“新布匿战争”的比方。——译者注

(175) 关于这场围绕“重新洗礼”（Rebaptism）异端展开的论战，参阅西普里安书信及优西比乌：《教会史》卷七。——译者注

不可混淆此际的“重新洗礼派”与16世纪后兴起的“再洗礼派”（Anabaptist），后者系宗教改革时代发源于瑞士的新教支派。——译者注

(176) 〔关于这两个称谓的来源，参阅莫斯海姆：《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》，第141页；小施潘海姆：《教会史》第633页。圣职者（Clergy）与平信徒（Laity）的分别确立于德尔图良的时代之前。〕——柏本注

(177) 共产社会之理念由柏拉图首创，其最完满形式则由托马斯·莫尔爵士（1478—1535，英国政治家、人文主义者，天主教徒）在其著作《乌托邦》中加以呈现。除去“共产”外，这一体制的另一有机组成还包括“共妻”。——柏本注

关于柏拉图对共产社会的构想，参阅《理想国》卷五。需要注意的是，古典时代的“共产”大大有别于现代意义上的共产主义思想。——译者注

(178) 参阅约瑟福斯：《犹太古史》卷十八c. 2及斐洛：《论凝思的生活》。——柏本注

艾赛尼派（Essenians）属于黑格西普斯在其著作中提及的犹太教小支派，存在于前2世纪至2世纪中的巴勒斯坦。他们厉行共产制度，提倡禁欲苦修，坚持施行割礼，反对犹大支派和救主观念。参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷四c. 22。——译者注

(179) 参阅《使徒行传》第2、第4、第5各章及格劳秀斯的注疏。莫斯海姆曾以专文声讨这一问题上的流俗意见，但其论据不甚有力。——柏本注

(180) 参阅查士丁：《护教辞》c. 89及德尔图良：《护教篇》c. 39。——柏本注

(181) 什一税（Tythes）亦称“十一奉献”，始见于耶和华向摩西宣告的法则：“地上所有的，无论是地上的种子是树上的果子，十分之一是耶和华的，是归给耶和华为圣的。”（《利未记》27:30）第一圣殿时代，十一奉献由祭司在指定地点献祭给神，亦用以救济无业的利未人及孤寡弱小。——译者注

(182) 参阅爱任纽：《驳异端》卷四c. 26，c. 34；《旧约·民数记》第二章；西普里安：《论教会联合》；《旧约·传道书》；《使徒宪典》卷二第34、第35款及科特列（1629—1686，法国教父学家、天主教神学家）的注释。《使徒宪典》在引入这一圣训时，宣称教士之权高于地上之君，一如灵魂高于肉体。在什一税的征收名目中，宪典列举了谷物、酒、油和羊毛。关于这一有趣课题，参阅普利多：《什一税史》及保罗·萨尔皮：《论捐献事务》；两位作者的脾性极为不同。——柏本注

(183) 盛行于公元1000年（第一个千禧年）前后的类似观点也收致了同样的影响。大多数捐赠者宣称，散尽千金的动机是“世界末日将近”。参阅莫斯海姆：《教会史》卷一第457页。——柏本注

(184) “坊间时有云，弟兄心生忧，卖地得钱千，或将付东流。父母信基督，不念娇儿苦，祖传有私邑，一朝付商贾。万千塞斯退，藏诸圣会所，‘敬神真的意，抛亲更弃子。’”（普鲁登提乌斯：“论司提反”，《赞美诗》第2，第73-84行）劳伦蒂乌斯执事日后的行为至多能证明罗马教会的财富在用度上尚属妥当，而这笔财富在数额上无疑是相当可观的；不过保罗·萨尔皮将康茂德（180—192年在位）之后几代皇帝迫害基督徒的原因完全归于皇帝或禁卫军统领贪图教会的财富（《论捐献事务》c. 3），这无疑言过其实了。——柏本注

劳伦蒂乌斯（225—258）为瓦勒良皇帝在位时的罗马教会执事，主教西克斯图斯二世受迫害殉难，临刑前预言三日后与劳伦蒂乌斯在主前相会。劳伦蒂乌斯认为这是殉道的暗示，乃召集贫穷信徒，把教会托他管理的财物悉数分发。瓦勒良逮捕劳伦蒂乌斯，要求他交待教会的账目，劳伦蒂乌斯则召集许多老人、无告和赤贫，宣称这才是“教会的真财宝”。他随后被关入铁器，受炙烤而死。——译者注

(185) 西普里安：《书信》第62。——柏本注

德基乌斯（201—251）于249—251年在位，此际的迦太基主教正是前文多次提及的西普里安。塞斯退斯（Sesterce）系古罗马时代辅币，亦是当时通行的货币单位，初为银质，后改青铜铸造，相当于1/4第那里。最早出现于前1世纪末，4世纪货币改革后停止流通。努米底亚（Numidia）为罗马行省之一，在今阿尔及利亚东北，与迦太基所在的阿非利加行省毗邻，以出产精锐骑兵著称。——译者注

(186) 德尔图良：《给异端的处方》c. 30。——柏本注

(187) 戴克里先皇帝（284—305年在位）曾颁布法令称：“毋庸置疑，非经朕之特许，修道会不得接受任何遗赠。”这一条文只是对过往律例的重申。不过保罗·萨尔皮认为，自瓦勒良登基以来，这类法令已经被大大忽略了（《论捐献事务》c. 3）。——柏本注

所谓“永久产业管理法”（Statutes of Mortmain），习称为“没收法”或“死手法”。中世纪英国教会土地一度享有免税权，许多信众在临终前将土地和不动产遗赠给教会，亦有地主与宗教团体合作进行假捐赠，先将土地过户予教堂，再以优惠的条件自教士处领回使用权，以逃避向领主缴纳税赋。鉴于教会土地之多已侵害中央收入，英王爱德华一世于1279年和1290年两次颁布“永久产业管理法”，规定非经君主或诸侯许可，禁止将土地让渡给一切法人团体。——译者注

(188) 苏维托尼乌斯：《神圣的奥古斯都传》c. 49。该案例涉及的土地早先为公地，之后引发了基督教会与屠夫之间的所有权纷争。——柏本注

(189) 《使徒宪典》卷二第35款。——柏本注

执事（Deacon）一词源自希腊文diakonein，意为“服务”、“从事服务工作”。在罗马以来的圣统制教会中，这一词语专指受教会祝圣、协助监督作事工之人（如《提摩太前书》3:8-10），位阶高于一般修士，但低于主教（监督）和司铎（祭司、神父）。——译者注

(190) 西普里安：《论堕落者》，第89页；《书信》第65。他的控诉为伊利贝里斯地区主教会议确定的《教会法典》（今称《天主教法典》）第19条和第20条所证实。——柏本注

(191) 爱席（Love-feast）源自早期基督教会中信徒不分贫富、同桌用餐，并掰饼纪念耶稣受难的习俗（《使徒行传》2:44-46）。但在圣司提反殉难（34年）后，由于教徒流散四方，爱席上不再真正用餐，仅进行聚会掰饼的仪式（《哥林多前书》11:23-29）。——译者注

(192) 参阅查士丁及德尔图良的护教言说。——柏本注

(193) 罗马基督徒向僻远省份的弟兄慷概捐资的行为，受到哥林多的狄奥尼修斯的大力褒扬，参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷四c. 23。——柏本注

(194) 参阅琉善：《逃亡者》c. 13。尤利安略显窘迫地指出，基督徒的施舍不仅加诸同教中人，还惠及了异教贫民（西普里安：《书信》第49）。——柏本注

(195) 面对此种情形犹能济危扶弱，至少在晚近以来的传教士中一直是颇得赞赏的义举。须知仅在（19世纪中叶的）北京街头，每年即有超过3000名新生儿惨遭遗弃，参阅爱斯卡拉克·德·劳悌尔伯爵（1822—1868，法国军人、探险家，参与过第二次鸦片战争）：《中国回忆》与《埃及和中国研究》，卷一第61页。——沃本注

(196) 孟他努派与诺瓦替安派以最富严苛和固执的态度坚持这一观点，最后却发现他们自己也被列入了革出教门的异端之列。参阅博学而多产的莫斯海姆：《教会史》卷二、三。——柏本注

孟他努派于2世纪中兴起于小亚细亚，信众认为千年王国即将来临，期待圣神特恩，故强调斋戒、守贞、节欲，反对俗务（如婚姻），为教会训导权强力反对。——译者注

(197) 此处指狄奥尼修斯，参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷四c. 23。亦参阅西普里安：《论堕落者》。——柏本注

(198) 参凯夫（1637—1713，英国教父学家）：《原初基督教：或古代基督徒在福音早期的宗教》卷三c. 5。厚古薄今之人对这类公开忏悔做法的消失颇感遗憾。——柏本注

(199) 这两次会议是指314年召开的安西拉地区主教会议与305—306年间召开的伊利贝里斯地区主教会议（埃尔维拉会议），为4世纪后大公会议的雏形，均涉及《教会法典》的修改。安西拉（Ancyra）即今土耳其安卡拉，当时属加拉太行省；伊利贝里斯（Illiberis）在今西班牙格拉纳达，当时属西斯班尼亚·贝提卡行省。——译者注

(200) 参阅迪潘：《教会作家丛书新集》卷二第304—313页。这两次会议是在戴克里先对基督徒的迫害告终、天下重归太平的第一时间召开的，试图对《教会法典》进行简要而理性的修订。戴克里先的迫害在加拉太较为惨烈，而在西班牙要稍好一些；某种程度上，这一差异可以解释两次会议推出的规章互相抵触的原因。——柏本注

(201) 指《民数记》16:1-35所载可拉党叛乱一事。可拉与大坍、亚比兰攻击摩西和亚伦，欲夺祭司之职，藐视了耶和华的权威。摩西遂召集众人、预言耶和华将降罪于可拉，随后大地裂开，可拉一党悉数坠落阴间。——译者注

(202) 西普里安：《书信》第59。——柏本注

(203) 阿普列尤斯（125—180，出生于北非的罗马作家、辩论家，亦是以拉丁文写作的散文家和柏拉图主义者）在其著作《金驴记》第八卷中相当幽默地描述了叙利亚多神教教士的艺文、品性和劣迹。——沃本注

(204) 亚细亚祭司（Asiarch）一职就属于这类性质，亚里斯蒂德（即雅典的亚里斯蒂德，2世纪护教士；非指同名的希腊统帅）的《申辩篇》及罗马碑铭都频繁提及过此事。祭司由选举产生，隔年换届。只有最虚骄的公民才渴望得到这种荣誉；只有浮财最多者才承当得起仪式的巨大花费。参阅科特列：《宗徒后期教父著作》卷二第200页〔《波利卡普的殉道》c. 12〕，其中记录了亚细亚祭司腓利在波利卡普殉难时是何等麻木不仁。与之类似的职务还有比提尼亚祭司、利西亚祭司等。——沃本注

亚细亚祭司的实际身份相当于民众大会司仪，负责在竞技场内主持公共会议和演出。波利卡普（69—155）系教会史上第一位有记载的殉道者，使徒约翰之徒，爱任纽的老师。安东尼·庇护在位时他是亚细亚省士每拿（今土耳其伊兹密尔）基督教会主教，因为坚持信仰，在竞技场中遭火刑殉难。临刑前，围观的暴民要求亚细亚祭司腓利放狮子撕咬波利卡普，但为腓利拒绝，后者认为在表演结束后再放出狮子不合礼制；但腓利也对波利卡普的遇难熟视无睹，始终像个局外人。参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷四c. 14-15，其中的时间显然有误。——译者注

(205) 教父们几乎无一例外地认定，圣马太最初是以希伯来文写作《福音书》的，但仅有其希腊文译本保存了下来，即为今日之《马太福音》。现代研究者对此说多不予置信。不过，拒斥教父们的结论似乎是危险的。——沃本注

〔帕皮亚曾述及：“马太用希伯来文编辑了基督的话语或语录。”参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷三c. 16、c. 39。今天的希腊文版《马太福音》并非由这一辑录翻译而来，不过可能以该文本及《马可福音》汇编而成。今日人们普遍确信，《马可福音》乃是《四福音书》中最早问世的。〕——柏本注

(206) 其时约在尼禄与图密善当政时，其地则在亚历山大里亚、安提阿、罗马及以弗所等城市。参阅密尔：《希腊文旧约绪论》，以及拉德纳博士公允而为数甚多的论著。——柏本注

(207) “外邦人底使徒”指保罗，下文所述的是他47—57年的三次长途布道之旅。同样适用“外邦人的使徒”称谓的还有巴拿巴，因他与保罗主要在罗马帝国腹地尚不信基督的外邦人居所布道，建立外省教会，故得名；而彼得与约翰因为执掌耶路撒冷教会、主要在巴勒斯坦等地传道，习惯上称为“犹太人中的使徒”。——译者注

(208) 2、3世纪的反圣言派异端质疑《启示录》的真实性（伊皮法纽：《驳黑格西普斯》，第455页），因为推雅推喇教会在《启示录》的年代尚未建立。伊皮法纽本人也承认这一事实，不过他机灵地假设圣约翰是以预言方式写下这段文字的，从而幸免于欺师灭祖的窘境。参阅阿柏西（1679—1767，法国新教神学家、经学家）：《论启示录》。——柏本注

据《启示录》1:11记载，基督曾指示约翰：“你所看见的，当写在书上，达于以弗所、士每拿、别迦摩、推雅推喇、撒狄、非拉铁非、老底嘉等七个教会。”该卷2～3章记录了基督给这七教会的信，基督首先宣明自己的身份，其次宣告每个教会的光景、劝勉和责备，然后发出对教会中得胜者的呼召。——译者注

(209) 伊格纳修与狄奥尼修斯的书信（参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷四c. 23）曾提及亚细亚与希腊的众多教会之名。而雅典教会似乎是其中最不显赫者。——柏本注

(210) 参阅琉善：《伪预言者亚历山大》，c. 25。然而，基督教在本都行省的传播状况显然极不均衡；至3世纪中叶，新恺撒利亚幅员广大的主教辖区仍只有17名信徒。参阅提勒孟特：《提供教会首六世纪之历史数据》卷四第675页；这一数据来自巴西利乌斯和尼撒的格列高里，两位教父本身便是卡帕多西亚土著。——柏本注

(211) 依古时的记述，耶稣基督是在两位杰米纽斯担任罗马执政官时殉难的，以今日的公元纪年算当为29年。普林尼前往比太尼亚任职当在公元110年。——柏本注

(212) 小普林尼：《书信集》卷十第97。——柏本注

(213) 参阅克吕索斯托（349—407，即“金口若望”，398—404年为东正教君士坦丁堡牧首）：《全集》卷七第658、第810页。——柏本注

(214) 参阅约翰·马拉拉斯（491—578，出生于安提阿的拜占庭史家）：《通史》卷二第144页。依据安提阿的人口稠密程度，他得出了相同的结论。——柏本注

(215) 克吕索斯托：《全集》卷一第592页。这一文本使笔者受惠甚多，尽管我本人并未藉此作出推论，而是参考了博学的拉德纳博士的论著：《福音史的可信度》卷十二第370页。——柏本注

(216) “治愈者派”（Therapeutae）最早见于斐洛的著作《论凝思的生活》。斐洛宣称这些人厉行苦修生活，整日阅读神圣经卷，进行属灵操练。考虑到在斐洛的时代基督教苦修主义尚未成形，“治愈者派”可能属于犹太教苦修者。不过优西比乌在这一问题上作出了过于草率的结论，他坚持认为斐洛所见的已经是基督教苦修者了。参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷二c. 17“斐洛论埃及的苦修者”。——译者注

(217) 参阅巴纳热：《耶稣基督后直至今日的犹太人宗教史》卷二c. 20、21、22、23。巴纳热以最苛刻的精度检视了斐洛描述“治愈者派”的奇特论著。他证实了这一著作完成于奥古斯都同时代，并且不顾优西比乌（《教会史》卷二c. 17）和一大批现代天主教徒的异议，证明了“治愈者派”既不属基督徒、亦非修道士。当然，仍存在以下可能：这一教派后来更换了名称，不过保持了原有的风习，又接受了一些新的宗教信条，逐渐发展成为埃及苦修者的先祖。——柏本注

(218) 参阅《神圣的奥古斯都传》第245页收录的哈德良的一封信件。——柏本注

(219) 关于历任亚历山大里亚宗主教的更替，参阅勒诺多（1648—1720，法国东方学者、平信徒）：《亚历山大里亚宗主教史》，第24页以下。优提克乌斯宗主教认为，赫拉克拉斯增加主教数量这一奇怪的事件合乎史实，因此将之纳入信史；其内在的证据本身即足以回应皮尔逊主教在《为圣伊格纳修书信的真实性辩护》中提出的一切异议。——柏本注

(220) 参阅安米阿努斯·马塞利努斯（325/330—391，罗马史家）：《历代志》卷二十二c. 16。——柏本注

(221) 参阅奥利金：《驳塞尔苏斯》卷一第40页。——柏本注

(222) 塔西佗在《编年史》卷十五c. 44处使用了“无限多数”（Ingensmultitudo）这一表达。——柏本注

(223) 酒神狄俄尼索斯（Dionysus）源自希腊神话，在罗马神话中称为巴克科斯（Bacchus），是植物、葡萄种植和酿酒业之神。布匿战争期间，后方罗马人中一度兴起崇拜巴克科斯的酒神节神秘仪式，信众每月秘密聚会五次，纵情欢会，随意酗酒、性交。前186年，罗马元老院因世风日下，对酒神节事件展开调查，处死了部分参与欢会的男子，逮捕7000多名热衷群交的酒神信徒、施以惩戒。

提图斯·李维（前59—17）为罗马三大史家之一，有142卷巨著《罗马建城以来史》，今存约1/4。——译者注

(224) 参阅李维：《罗马建城以来史》卷三十九c. 13，c. 15，c. 16，c. 17。发现酒神节祭仪已经盛行于民间后，罗马元老院感到空前惊骇和张皇，李维对愚民在酒神节上的堕落举止作了或许失之夸张的描述。——沃本注

(225) 参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷六c. 43。此书的拉丁文译者将长老之数删减为44人，以之为宜。——柏本注

(226) 罗马城中长老和贫民数量相对于其余人口的比例最初是由伯内特得出的（《意大利旅行记》第168页），后又为莫伊尔所证实。两位作者对克吕索斯托的文本都不甚熟知，而后者的发现使得他们二人的推测几乎可以等同于事实。——柏本注

(227) “在阿尔卑斯山另一边，上帝之宗教得到接受多少有些偏晚。”（苏维托尼乌斯：《神圣史》卷二c. 32）至于阿非利加省的状况，参阅德尔图良：《致斯卡普拉》c. 3。据推测，西里乌姆的殉道者可能是阿非利加第一批基督徒（修纳尔：《首批殉道者行传》第34页）。阿普列尤斯的论敌之一似乎就是个基督徒，参阿普列尤斯：《申辩篇》（德尔斐版）第499、第497页。——柏本注

马可·奥勒留在位时，180年7月，北非西里乌姆（Scillium）的12位基督徒因公开宣示信仰，为总督萨图尼努斯处死。关于这一事件的记载，是现存最早的关于阿非利加基督教会的文献，也是第一份基督教拉丁文手稿。——译者注

(228) “当是时，高卢第一次出现了殉道的现象。”（苏维托尼乌斯：《神圣史》卷二c. 32）这批先行者就是著名的里昂殉道者。参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷五c. 1，提勒孟特：《提供教会首六世纪之历史数据》卷二第316页。按照多纳图派异端的说法，阿非利加省是罗马诸行省中最后一个接受福音的，此说也为奥古斯丁所默认。参阅提勒孟特：《提供教会首六世纪之历史数据》卷一第754页。——柏本注

(229) “由于少数基督徒的贡献，有若干城市兴起了数个教会。”（修纳尔：《首批殉道者行传》第130页）亦参阅图尔的格列高里：《法兰克人史》卷一c. 28，莫斯海姆：《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》，第449页。根据一些证据可以确认，在4世纪初，列日、特里尔和科隆幅员广大的教区不过是由一位主教领导的单一主教辖区，并且直至很晚才告成立。参阅《提供教会首六世纪之历史数据》卷六第一部分第43、第411页。——柏本注

(230) 依莫斯海姆某篇专文所述，德尔图良《护教篇》完成的时间可确认为公元198年。——柏本注

(231) 15世纪时，有少数人不知是出于私议还是勇敢，竟质疑格拉斯敦布利修道院是否真由亚利马太的约瑟所创，而大法官丢尼修是否更喜欢住在巴黎、甚于希腊。——沃本注

依《福音书》所记，亚利马太的约瑟为追随耶稣的犹太人，基督殉难后，他将其“安放在自己的新坟墓里”（《马太福音》27:60），使为众人舍命的人不至抛尸荒野。马姆斯伯里的威廉所著《英格兰诸王编年史》称，61年，使徒腓力遣约瑟远赴英国，将最后的晚餐使用过的圣杯带到英伦（后成为著名的“亚瑟王圣杯”）。当约瑟到达格拉斯敦布利时，他插在地下的手杖长成了“圣何塞之树”，于是在树下建立格拉斯敦布利修道院。大法官丢尼修其人前文已经述及，他在皈依基督教之后，成为雅典的主教。——译者注

(232) 这一惊人的“变身”故事发生于9世纪。在这一问题上，马里亚纳的著作（《西班牙事务史》卷七c. 13）无疑是模仿了李维的笔法；关于圣詹姆斯传奇的最可靠考证则见于格迪斯博士的《杂集》卷二第221页。——沃本注

(233) 参阅殉道者查士丁：《反特来弗对话录》第341页，伊皮法纽：《驳黑格西普斯》卷一c. 10，德尔图良：《驳犹太人》c. 7。亦参阅莫斯海姆：《君士坦丁大帝之前基督徒事迹评述》，第203页。——柏本注

(234) 参阅莫斯海姆：《教会史》中关于4世纪的章节。与伊比利亚和亚美尼亚人皈依基督相关的众多史实，可参阅克里尼的摩西（5世纪亚美尼亚史家）：《亚美尼亚史》卷二c. 78-89，不过记载相当混乱。——柏本注

埃塞俄比亚阿克苏姆王朝自4世纪起改宗基督教，但他们信奉的是自埃及传来的科普特正教教义，与罗马正教和东方希腊正教差别甚大。451年卡尔西顿大公会议上，埃塞俄比亚主教们和埃及、叙利亚主教一起拥护优提克斯的“一性论”，被宣布为异端。——译者注

(235) 据德尔图良称，基督信仰甚至传入了不列颠疆域内未曾为罗马军队踏足的那些地区。在那之后约百年，芬格尔之子奥西恩（传说中的古爱尔兰吟游诗人，所遗诗作多以苏格兰凯尔特语写就，但其人其作的真实性向来存疑）据传在其晚年曾与一位异邦传教士论战，争论的内容在其诗作中依然可寻，不过是以凯尔特语写就。参阅麦克弗森关于奥西恩古老诗作的专文《古代诗歌的碎片》，第10页。——沃本注

喀里多尼亚（Caledonia）系罗马人对苏格兰高地的称呼。前43年罗马军团大举入侵不列颠，在随后四十年中占领了英格兰、威尔士全部和苏格兰低地地区，设置不列颠尼亚行省、推行移民，并在北部修筑哈德良长城。不过北方的喀里多尼亚始终处在高地民族的控制下，未为罗马人征服。407年罗马军撤出不列颠，当地随后为盎格鲁-萨克逊人再度征服。——译者注

(236) 加里恩努斯帝在位时（260—268），哥特人曾肆虐于亚细亚省，掳获大批俘虏；其中就有基督徒，这些人随后成为传教士。参阅提勒孟特：《提供教会首六世纪之历史数据》卷四第44页。——沃本注

(237) 阿布加尔王之传奇虽属虚构，仍可作为一关键证据，证实在优西比乌写作其《教会史》之前多年，以得撒居民之大多数已然皈依基督教。至于其劲敌卡雷城公民则恰好相反，他们皈依了异教，直至6世纪为止。——柏本注

阿布加尔五世是公元30年前后美索不达米亚西北的一位王，他因身染恶疾，曾向耶稣求救，两人有书信来往。耶稣复活升天后，十二使徒之一的多马即遣门徒达太往以得撒传播福音，并治愈阿布加尔的疾病。阿布加尔即令以得撒官民一齐聆听达太的布道。这段故事以及耶稣和阿布加尔间的通信，见优西比乌：《教会史》卷一c. 13。现代史家已经公认这段故事属于“伪经”，因其发生之时耶稣尚未殉难，以得撒最晚在150年接触到基督教，当时之君是阿布加尔八世。参阅保罗·梅尔教授对《教会史》第一卷的评注。——译者注

(238) Artaxerxes是波斯语Ardashir一词的拉丁化写法，意为“天命所归之国主”。此处特指波斯萨珊王朝的建立者阿尔达希尔一世（226—242年在位），其家族统治波斯直至7世纪。需要指出的是，古波斯阿契美尼德王朝曾有一位皇帝阿尔塔薛西斯一世（Artaxerxes I），在位时间为前465—前424年，过去的中译者多将此处的Artaxerxes误认为此人。实际上Ardashir（Artaxerxes）这一头衔曾为多位波斯统治者使用，从上下文关联看，此处出现的该词无疑应指代基督教兴起时统治波斯的阿尔达希尔一世及其后人（萨珊王朝君主），而不是前基督时代的阿尔塔薛西斯。——译者注

(239) 依巴尔德萨内斯（154—222，才华横溢的叙利亚基督徒，曾与灵知派展开论战，但自身也是否认身体复活的异端分子）所述，2世纪末之前波斯即有一些基督徒。在君士坦丁帝时代，这些人组成了一个繁盛的教会（见优西比乌致波斯王皇帝沙普尔的信）。参阅博叟贝：《摩尼教史》卷一第180页，及《阿斯马尼东方书目》。——柏本注

(240) 奥利金：《驳塞尔苏斯》卷八第424页。

(241) 君士坦丁一世在313年颁行《米兰敕令》，赋予所有宗教以完全宽容，并给予受迫害的基督徒以补偿。嗣后基督教会在帝国境内尤其是东部各省取得了长足的发展。325年，他又召开尼西亚公会议，裁决教派纷争，制定《尼西亚信经》作为正统“三位一体”教义的标准，从典章上确立了主教制的合法性。——译者注

(242) 参阅米努修：《屋大维》第8页；奥利金：《驳塞尔苏斯》卷三第138、第142页；尤利安：《驳西里尔》卷六第206页。——柏本注

(243) 参阅优西比乌：《教会史》卷四c. 3；亦参耶柔米：《书信》第83。——柏本注

(244) 查士丁的对话录曾恰如其分地述及这段经历。在此之后，提勒孟特也曾提及这一故事，并且极为坚信查士丁遇到的老人就是化为人形的天使（《提供教会首六世纪之历史数据》卷二第384页）。——柏本注

(245) 优西比乌：《教会史》卷五c. 28。塞尔苏斯曾抱怨基督徒一直在修订和变更《福音书》的内容（奥利金：《驳塞尔苏斯》卷二第77页），不过除异端分子外，似乎并无其他人会生出这类指责。——沃本注

阿尔特蒙为3世纪中叶异端神学家，宣称基督在复活时才有神的位格，因此遭教会摒弃；狄奥弗拉斯图（前371—前287）为希腊逍遥派哲人，著有《植物志》与《人物志》；盖伦（129—199/217）为罗马名医，出生于希腊，系希波克拉底医学理论的继承者和传播者。

需要指出的是，吉本在此处引用的优西比乌原文系较早的英译本，与拉丁文原本字句多有出入。如此处出现的“圣体”（Heaven），更确切的译法应为“那一位”（The One），即耶稣其人（参阅《约翰福音》3:31）；其余细节也多有不同。建议参阅瞿旭彤译优西比乌《教会史》（三联书店2009年版）相关章节，其依据的是保罗·梅尔1999年英译本。——译者注

(246) 参阅小普林尼：《书信集》卷十第97：“已然正然身受或将受此案株连者，无分寿幼、无分贵贱、无分男女，人数众多。”——柏本注

(247) 此处的言说即德尔图良名篇《致斯卡普拉》。不过即使他这套华丽的言辞，也没敢将迦太基基督徒的人数夸大到总人口的十分之一以上。——柏本注

(248) 西普里安：《书信》第80。——柏本注

(249) 这是一处双关。《马太福音》第5章所载著名的“天国八福”，首句为“神贫的人是有福的，因为天国是他们的”（The poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.）。The poor in spirit除表示“神贫”（虚心）外，依字面也可解读为“穷人（在精神问题上）”，用在此处，表面含义恰为“天国在精神上许给了穷人”。——译者注

(250) 拉德纳博士在其著作《犹太教与基督教证言》的第一、第二章搜集并列举了小普林尼、塔西佗、盖伦、马可·奥勒留以及可能是爱比克泰德（盖因这位哲人是否有心提及基督徒究属可疑）关于基督教问题的论述。塞涅卡、老普林尼和普鲁塔克〔以及克吕索斯托〕则完全未曾提及这一新兴宗教。——柏本注

(251) 如果说“七十个七期”的著名预言曾有为罗马哲人所引证，那么西塞罗的言说大概还称不上一种回应：“他是依据何种预兆，从麻雀的数量里推断出那一时限的呢？为何预言中的时限是以年计，而不是以月或日计呢？”（《论预言》卷二c. 30）对琉善（《伪预言者亚历山大》c. 13）及其朋党塞尔苏斯不敬言论（奥利金：《驳塞尔苏斯》卷七第327页）的观察显示：两人对希伯来先知甚为关心。——柏本注

“七十个七期”（Seventy Weeks）典出《但以理书》9:24—27。先知但以理在被掳之地巴比伦，见到天使加百列展示的七十个七的异象，令其“止住罪过，除净罪恶，赎尽罪孽，引进永义，封住异象和预言，并膏至圣者”，并预言第七十个七为“所定的结局”。对犹太人和基督徒来说，这是一个重要的预言。——译者注

(252) 哲学家们既已嘲弄了上古女先知的妄断，自当轻易察觉：从殉道者查士丁到拉克唐修，历代教父大张旗鼓地引用过的犹太教和基督教典籍中，有不少属于伪作。当伪作《女先知预言集》完成其历史使命之际，它们与千禧年学说一样被静静地弃置一旁。基督教的女先知不幸地将罗马毁灭的时间预言为公元195年，即罗马建城后的948年。——沃本注

俄耳普斯为希腊神话中的歌手，能以歌声感动鸟兽木石。赫耳墨斯为希腊奥林匹斯十二主神之一，宙斯与迈亚之子，亦是诸神的信使和演讲者的保护神。女先知（Sibyl）一词最早见于赫拉克利特的著作，后成为地中海地区城邦公认的具有预知未来、传达神谕能力的女性神官，数量在1～4个不等，以希腊德尔斐神庙的女先知最为著名。按照正统基督教教义，这些都应是妄诞的偶像和伪神。——译者注

(253) 在卡尔梅（1672—1757，法国经学家、教会史家、本笃会会士）笔下，众教父似皆夸大其辞，宣称彼时四海之内皆已昏晦不明（《圣经论文》卷三第295-308页）；大多数现代人也承袭此说。——沃本注

本段所述的是公元29年3月23日耶稣在耶路撒冷附近的山上被钉十字架一事。《新约》中《马太福音》《路加福音》各章均宣称，基督殉难之际，天日无光、四野尽墨。——译者注

(254) 参阅奥利金：《评圣马太》c. 27，以及晚近以来贝扎、勒克莱、拉德纳等人的评论，这类评论倾向于将此一异象的发生地限制为犹地亚（Judea，古巴勒斯坦南部）一处。——沃本注

(255) 弗勒干那篇著名的文章今时已被明智地判为伪作。当德尔图良向异教徒保证关于这一奇迹的记载可以在“你们的奥秘”——而非档案——中寻得时（《护教篇》c. 21），他所指的出处显然是《女先知预言集》，后者的记录与《福音书》的字句恰好吻合。——柏本注

弗勒干（约80—？）为2世纪罗马史家，以希腊文写作，曾著编年体史纲《奥林匹克》和《历代记》。教父时代曾有一部述及耶稣殉难经过的残篇，其中提到钉十字架时天地一片昏暗，这部残篇托名为弗勒干著作《历代记》的选段。——译者注

(256) 参阅塞涅卡（约前4—65，罗马哲人、政治家、剧作家）：《天问》卷一c. 15卷六c. 1，卷七c. 17；亦参阅老普林尼（23—79，罗马作家、博物学家、自然哲学家）：《博物志》卷二。——柏本注

(257) 参阅老普林尼：《博物志》卷二c. 30。〔本章以简洁著称。〕——柏本注

(258) 参阅维吉尔：《农事诗》卷一c. 466；提布卢斯（前55—前10，罗马诗人、挽歌作家）：《诗集第二》c. 5、c. 75；奥维德：《变形记》卷十五c. 782；卢坎（39—65，罗马诗人）：《内战》卷一c. 535。最后一首诗作认为这一奇观发生在恺撒与庞培的内战爆发之前。——柏本注

(259) 参阅马克·安东尼（前83—前30，罗马统帅、政治家，曾为恺撒亲信）的一封公开信，载约瑟法斯：《犹太古史》卷十四c. 12；亦参阅普鲁塔克：《恺撒》第471页；阿庇安：《内战史》卷四；迪奥·卡西乌斯：《罗马史》卷十四第431页；尤利乌斯·奥普塞昆（4世纪罗马作家）：《奇迹书》c. 128。最后这篇短文是对李维著作《奇迹录》相关章节的摘要。——柏本注

Edward Gibbon

The Christians and the Fall of Rome

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

The Progress of the Christian Religion, and the Sentiments, Manners, Numbers, and Condition, of the Primitive Christians

A candid but rational inquiry into the progress and establishment of Christianity may be considered as a very essential part of the history of the Roman empire. While that great body was invaded by open violence, or undermined by slow decay, a pure and humble religion gently insinuated itself into the minds of men, grew up in silence and obscurity, derived new vigour from opposition, and finally erected the triumphant banner of the cross on the ruins of the Capitol. Nor was the influence of Christianity confined to the period or to the limits of the Roman empire. After a revolution of thirteen or fourteen centuries, that religion is still professed by the nations of Europe, the most distinguished portion of human kind in arts and learning as well as in arms. By the industry and zeal of the Europeans, it has been widely diffused to the most distant shores of Asia and Africa; and by the means of their colonies has been firmly established from Canada to Chili, in a world unknown to the ancients.

But this inquiry, however useful or entertaining, is attended with two peculiar difficulties. The scanty and suspicious materials of ecclesiastical history seldom enable us to dispel the dark cloud that hangs over the first age of the church. The great law of impartiality too often obliges us to reveal the imperfections of the uninspired teachers and believers of the gospel; and, to a careless observer, their faults may seem to cast a shade on the faith which they professed. But the scandal of the pious Christian, and the fallacious triumph of the Infidel, should cease as soon as they recollect not only by whom, but likewise to whom, the Divine Revelation was given. The theologian may indulge the pleasing task of describing Religion as she descended from Heaven, arrayed in her native purity. A more melancholy duty is imposed on the historian. He must discover the inevitable mixture of error and corruption, which she contracted in a long residence upon earth, among a weak and degenerate race of beings.

Our curiosity is naturally prompted to inquire by what means the Christian faith obtained so remarkable a victory over the established religions of the earth. To this inquiry, an obvious but satisfactory answer may be returned; that it was owing to the convincing evidence of the doctrine itself, and to the ruling providence of its great Author. But as truth and reason seldom find so favourable a reception in the world, and as the wisdom of Providence frequently condescends to use the passions of the human heart, and the general circumstances of mankind, as instruments to execute its purpose; we may still be permitted, though with becoming submission, to ask, not indeed what were the first, but what were the secondary causes of the rapid growth of the Christian church. It will, perhaps, appear, that it was most effectually favoured and assisted by the five following causes: I. The inflexible, and, if we may use the expression, the intolerant zeal of the Christians, derived, it is true, from the Jewish religion, but purified from the narrow and unsocial spirit, which, instead of inviting, had deterred the Gentiles from embracing the law of Moses. II. The doctrine of a future life, improved by every additional circumstance which could give weight and efficacy to that important truth. III. The miraculous powers ascribed to the primitive church. IV. The pure and austere morals of the Christians. V. The union and discipline of the Christian republic, which gradually formed an independent and increasing state in the heart of the Roman empire.

I. We have already described the religious harmony of the ancient world, and the facility with which the most different and even hostile nations embraced, or at least respected, each other's superstitions. A single people refused to join in the common intercourse of mankind. The Jews, who, under the Assyrian and Persian monarchies, had languished for many ages the most despised portion of their slaves, emerged from obscurity under the successors of Alexander; and as they multiplied to a surprising degree in the East, and afterwards in the West, they soon excited the curiosity and wonder of other nations. The sullen obstinacy with which they maintained their peculiar rites and unsocial manners, seemed to mark them out a distinct species of men, who boldy professed, or who faintly disguised, their implacable hatred to the rest of human-kind. Neither the violence of Antiochus, nor the arts of Herod, nor the example of the circumjacent nations, could ever persuade the Jews to associate with the institutions of Moses the elegant mythology of the Greeks.[*] According to the maxims of universal toleration, the Romans protected a superstition which they despised. The polite Augustus condescended to give orders, that sacrifices should be offered for his prosperity in the temple of Jerusalem; while the meanest of the posterity of Abraham, who should have paid the same homage to the Jupiter of the Capitol, would have been an object of abhorrence to himself and to his brethren. But the moderation of the conquerors was insufficient to appease the jealous prejudices of their subjects, who were alarmed and scandalized at the ensigns of paganism, which necessarily introduced themselves into a Roman province. The mad attempt of Caligula to place his own statue, in the temple of Jerusalem, was defeated by the unanimous resolution of a people who dreaded death much less than such an idolatrous profanation.[†] Their attachment to the law of Moses was equal to their detestation of foreign religions. The current of zeal and devotion, as it was contracted into a narrow channel, ran with the strength, and sometimes with the fury, of a torrent.

This inflexible perseverance, which appeared so odious or so ridiculous to the ancient world, assumes a more awful character, since Providence has deigned to reveal to us the mysterious history of the chosen people. But the devout and even scrupulous attachment to the Mosaic religion, so conspicuous among the Jews who lived under the second temple, becomes still more surprising, if it is compared with the stubborn incredulity of their forefathers. When the law was given in thunder from Mount Sinai; when the tides of the ocean, and the course of the planets were suspended for the convenience of the Israelites; and when temporal rewards and punishments were the immediate consequences of their piety or disobedience, they perpetually relapsed into rebellion against the visible majesty of their Divine King, placed the idols of the nations in the sanctuary of Jehovah, and imitated every fantastic ceremony that was practised in the tents of the Arabs, or in the cities of Phoenicia. As the protection of Heaven was deservedly withdrawn from the ungrateful race, their faith acquired a proportionable degree of vigour and purity. The contemporaries of Moses and Joshua had beheld with careless indifference the most amazing miracles. Under the pressure of every calamity, the belief of those miracles has preserved the Jews of a later period from the universal contagion of idolatry; and in contradiction to every known principle of the human mind, that singular people seems to have yielded a stronger and more ready assent to the traditions of their remote ancestors, than to the evidence of their own senses.[*]

The Jewish religion was admirably fitted for defence, but it was never designed for conquest; and it seems probable that the number of proselytes was never much superior to that of apostates. The divine promises were originally made, and the distinguishing rite of circumcision was enjoined to a single family. When the posterity of Abraham had multiplied like the sands of the sea, the Deity, from whose mouth they received a system of laws and ceremonies, declared himself the proper and as it were the national God of Israel; and with the most jealous care separated his favourite people from the rest of mankind. The conquest of the land of Canaan was accompanied with so many wonderful and with so many bloody circumstances, that the victorious Jews were left in a state of irreconcilable hostility with all their neighbours. They had been commanded to extirpate some of the most idolatrous tribes, and the execution of the Divine will had seldom been retarded by the weakness of humanity. With the other nations they were forbidden to contract any marriages or alliances, and the prohibition of receiving them into the congregation, which in some cases was perpetual, almost always extended to the third, to the seventh, or even to the tenth generation. The obligation of preaching to the Gentiles the faith of Moses, had never been inculcated as a precept of the law, nor were the Jews inclined to impose it on themselves as a voluntary duty. In the admission of new citizens, that unsocial people was actuated by the selfish vanity of the Greeks, rather than by the generous policy of Rome. The descendants of Abraham were flattered by the opinion, that they alone were the heirs of the covenant, and they were apprehensive of diminishing the value of their inheritance, by sharing it too easily with the strangers of the earth. A larger acquaintance with mankind, extended their knowledge without correcting their prejudices; and whenever the God of Israel acquired any new votaries, he was much more indebted to the inconstant humour of polytheism than to the active zeal of his own missionaries. The religion of Moses seems to be instituted for a particular country as well as for a single nation; and if a strict obedience had been paid to the order, that every male, three times in the year, should present himself before the Lord Jehovah, it would have been impossible that the Jews could ever have spread themselves beyond the narrow limits of the promised land. That obstacle was indeed removed by the destruction of the temple of Jerusalem; but the most considerable part of the Jewish religion was involved in its destruction; and the pagans, who had long wondered at the strange report of an empty sanctuary, were at a loss to discover what could be the object, or what could be the instruments, of a worship which was destitute of temples and of altars, of priests and of sacrifices. Yet even in their fallen state, the Jews, still asserting their lofty and exclusive privileges, shunned, instead of courting, the society of strangers. They still insisted with inflexible rigour on those parts of the law which it was in their power to practise. Their peculiar distinctions of days, of meats, and a variety of trivial though burdensome observances, were so many objects of disgust and aversion for the other nations, to whose habits and prejudices they were diametrically opposite. The painful and even dangerous rite of circumcision was alone capable of repelling a willing proselyte from the door of the synagogue.

Under these circumstances, Christianity offered itself to the world, armed with the strength of the Mosaic law, and delivered from the weight of its fetters. An exclusive zeal for the truth of religion, and the unity of God, was as carefully inculcated in the new as in the ancient system: and whatever was now revealed to mankind concerning the nature and designs of the Supreme Being, was fitted to increase their reverence for that mysterious doctrine. The divine authority of Moses and the prophets was admitted, and even established, as the firmest basis of Christianity. From the beginning of the world, an uninterrupted series of predictions had announced and prepared the long expected coming of the Messiah, who, in compliance with the gross apprehensions of the Jews, had been more frequently represented under the character of a King and Conqueror, than under that of a Prophet, a Martyr, and the Son of God. By his expiatory sacrifice, the imperfect sacrifices of the temple were at once consummated and abolished. The ceremonial law, which consisted only of types and figures, was succeeded by a pure and spiritual worship, equally adapted to all climates as well as to every condition of mankind; and to the initiation of blood, was substituted a more harmless initiation of water. The promise of divine favour, instead of being partially confined to the posterity of Abraham, was universally proposed to the freeman and the slave, to the Greek and to the barbarian, to the Jew and to the Gentile. Every privilege that could raise the proselyte from earth to Heaven, that could exalt his devotion, secure his happiness, or even gratify that secret pride, which, under the semblance of devotion, insinuates itself into the human heart, was still reserved for the members of the Christian church; but at the same time all mankind was permitted, and even solicited, to accept the glorious distinction, which was not only proffered as a favour, but imposed as an obligation. It became the most sacred duty of a new convert to diffuse among his friends and relations the inestimable blessing which he had received, and to warn them against a refusal that would be severely punished as a criminal disobedience to the will of a benevolent but all-powerful deity.

The enfranchisement of the church from the bonds of the synagogue, was a work however of some time and of some difficulty. The Jewish converts, who acknowledged Jesus in the character of the Messiah foretold by their ancient oracles, respected him as a prophetic teacher of virtue and religion; but they obstinately adhered to the ceremonies of their ancestors, and were desirous of imposing them on the Gentiles, who continually augmented the number of believers. These Judaising Christians seem to have argued with some degree of plausibility from the divine origin of the Mosaic law, and from the immutable perfections of its great Author. They affirmed, that if the Being, who is the same through all eternity, had designed to abolish those sacred rites which had served to distinguish his chosen people, the repeal of them would have been no less clear and solemn than their first promulgation: that, instead of those frequent declarations, which either suppose or assert the perpetuity of the Mosaic religion, it would have been represented as a provisionary scheme intended to last only till the coming of the Messiah, who should instruct mankind in a more perfect mode of faith and of worship: that the Messiah himself, and his disciples who conversed with him on earth, instead of authorizing by their example the most minute observances of the Mosaic law, would have published to the world the abolition of those useless and obsolete ceremonies, without suffering Christianity to remain during so many years obscurely confounded among the sects of the Jewish church. Arguments like these appear to have been used in the defence of the expiring cause of the Mosaic law; but the industry of our learned divines has abundantly explained the ambiguous language of the Old Testament, and the ambiguous conduct of the apostolic teachers. It was proper gradually to unfold the system of the Gospel, and to pronounce, with the utmost caution and tenderness, a sentence of condemnation so repugnant to the inclination and prejudices of the believing Jews.

The history of the church of Jerusalem affords a lively proof of the necessity of those precautions, and of the deep impression which the Jewish religion had made on the minds of its sectaries. The first fifteen bishops of Jerusalem were all circumcised Jews; and the congregation over which they presided, united the law of Moses with the doctrine of Christ. It was natural that the primitive tradition of a church which was founded only forty days after the death of Christ, and was governed almost as many years under the immediate inspection of his apostles, should be received as the standard of orthodoxy. The distant churches very frequently appealed to the authority of their venerable Parent, and relieved her distresses by a liberal contribution of alms. But when numerous and opulent societies were established in the great cities of the empire, in Antioch, Alexandria, Ephesus, Corinth, and Rome, the reverence which Jerusalem had inspired to all the Christian colonies insensibly diminished. The Jewish converts, or, as they were afterwards called, the Nazarenes, who had laid the foundations of the church, soon found themselves overwhelmed by the increasing multitudes, that from all the various religions of polytheism inlisted under the banner of Christ: and the Gentiles, who, with the approbation of their peculiar apostle, had rejected the intolerable weight of Mosaic ceremonies, at length refused to their more scrupulous brethren the same toleration which at first they had humbly solicited for their own practice. The ruin of the temple, of the city, and of the public religion of the Jews, was severely felt by the Nazarenes; as in their manners, though not in their faith, they maintained so intimate a connexion with their impious countrymen, whose misfortunes were attributed by the Pagans to the contempt, and more justly ascribed by the Christians to the wrath, of the Supreme Deity. The Nazarenes retired from the ruins of Jerusalem to the little town of Pella beyond the Jordan, where that ancient church languished above sixty years in solitude and obscurity.[*] They still enjoyed the comfort of making frequent and devout visits to the Holy City, and the hope of being one day restored to those seats which both nature and religion taught them to love as well as to revere. But at length, under the reign of Hadrian, the desperate fanaticism of the Jews filled up the measure of their calamities; and the Romans, exasperated by their repeated rebellions, exercised the rights of victory with unusual rigour. The emperor founded, under the name of Ælia Capitolina, a new city on Mount Sion, to which he gave the privileges of a colony; and denouncing the severest penalties against any of the Jewish people who should dare to approach its precincts, he fixed a vigilant garrison of a Roman cohort to enforce the execution of his orders. The Nazarenes had only one way left to escape the common proscription, and the force of truth was on this occasion assisted by the influence of temporal advantages. They elected Marcus for their bishop, a prelate of the race of the Gentiles, and most probably a native either of Italy or of some of the Latin provinces. At his persuasion, the most considerable part of the congregation renounced the Mosaic law, in the practice of which they had persevered above a century. By this sacrifice of their habits and prejudices, they purchased a free admission into the colony of Hadrian, and more firmly cemented their union with the Catholic church.

When the name and honours of the church of Jerusalem had been restored to Mount Sion, the crimes of heresy and schism were imputed to the obscure remnant of the Nazarenes, which refused to accompany their Latin bishop. They still preserved their former habitation of Pella, spread themselves into the villages adjacent to Damascus, and formed an inconsiderable church in the city of Bœrea, or, as it is now called, of Aleppo, in Syria. The name of Nazarenes was deemed too honourable for those Christian Jews, and they soon received from the supposed poverty of their understanding, as well as of their condition, the contemptuous epithet of Ebionites. In a few years after the return of the church of Jerusalem, it became a matter of doubt and controversy, whether a man who sincerely acknowledged Jesus as the Messiah, but who still continued to observe the law of Moses, could possibly hope for salvation. The humane temper of Justin Martyr inclined him to answer this question in the affirmative; and though he expressed himself with the most guarded diffidence, he ventured to determine in favour of such an imperfect Christian, if he were content to practise the Mosaic ceremonies, without pretending to assert their general use or necessity. But when Justin was pressed to declare the sentiment of the church, he confessed that there were very many among the orthodox Christians, who not only excluded their Judaising brethren from the hope of salvation, but who declined any intercourse with them in the common offices of friendship, hospitality, and social life. The more rigorous opinion prevailed, as it was natural to expect, over the milder; and an eternal bar of separation was fixed between the disciples of Moses and those of Christ.

The unfortunate Ebionites, rejected from one religion as apostates, and from the other as heretics, found themselves compelled to assume a more decided character; and although some traces of that obsolete sect may be discovered as late as the fourth century, they insensibly melted away either into the church or the synagogue.[*]

While the orthodox church preserved a just medium between excessive veneration and improper contempt for the law of Moses, the various heretics deviated into equal but opposite extremes of error and extravagance. From the acknowledged truth of the Jewish religion, the Ebionites had concluded that it could never be abolished. From its supposed imperfections the Gnostics as hastily inferred that it never was instituted by the wisdom of the Deity. There are some objections against the authority of Moses and the prophets, which too readily present themselves to the sceptical mind; though they can only be derived from our ignorance of remote antiquity, and from our incapacity to form an adequate judgment of the divine œconomy. These objections were eagerly embraced and as petulantly urged by the vain science of the Gnostics. As those heretics were, for the most part, averse to the pleasures of sense, they morosely arraigned the polygamy of the patriarchs, the galantries of David, and the seraglio of Solomon. The conquest of the land of Canaan, and the extirpation of the unsuspecting natives, they were at a loss how to reconcile with the common notions of humanity and justice. But when they recollected the sanguinary list of murders, of executions, and of massacres, which stain almost every page of the Jewish annals, they acknowledged that the barbarians of Palestine had exercised as much compassion towards their idolatrous enemies, as they had ever shewn to their friends or countrymen. Passing from the sectaries of the law to the law itself, they asserted that it was impossible that a religion which consisted only of bloody sacrifices and trifling ceremonies, and whose rewards as well as punishments were all of a carnal and temporal nature, could inspire the love of virtue, or restrain the impetuosity of passion. The Mosaic account of the creation and fall of man was treated with profane derision by the Gnostics, who would not listen with patience to the repose of the Deity after six days labour, to the rib of Adam, the garden of Eden, the trees of life and of knowledge, the speaking serpent, the forbidden fruit, and the condemnation pronounced against human kind for the venial offence of their first progenitors. The God of Israel was impiously represented by the Gnostics, as a being liable to passion and to error, capricious in his favour, implacable in his resentment, meanly jealous of his superstitious worship, and confining his partial providence to a single people, and to this transitory life. In such a character they could discover none of the features of the wise and omnipotent father of the universe.[*] They allowed that the religion of the Jews was somewhat less criminal than the idolatry of the Gentiles; but it was their fundamental doctrine, that the Christ whom they adored as the first and brightest emanation of the Deity, appeared upon earth to rescue mankind from their various errors, and to reveal a new system of truth and perfection. The most learned of the fathers, by a very singular condescension, have imprudently admitted the sophistry of the Gnostics. Acknowledging that the literal sense is repugnant to every principle of faith as well as reason, they deem themselves secure and invulnerable behind the ample veil of allegory, which they carefully spread over every tender part of the Mosaic dispensation.

It has been remarked with more ingenuity than truth, that the virgin purity of the church was never violated by schism or heresy before the reign of Trajan or Hadrian, about one hundred years after the death of Christ. We may observe with much more propriety, that, during that period, the disciples of the Messiah were indulged in a freer latitude both of faith and practice, than has ever been allowed in succeeding ages. As the terms of communion were insensibly narrowed, and the spiritual authority of the prevailing party was exercised with increasing severity, many of its most respectable adherents, who were called upon to renounce, were provoked to assert their private opinions, to pursue the consequences of their mistaken principles, and openly to erect the standard of rebellion against the unity of the church. The Gnostics were distinguished as the most polite, the most learned, and the most wealthy of the Christian name, and that general appellation which expressed a superiority of knowledge, was either assumed by their own pride, or ironically bestowed by the envy of their adversaries. They were almost without exception of the race of the Gentiles, and their principal founders seem to have been natives of Syria or Egypt, where the warmth of the climate disposes both the mind and the body to indolent and contemplative devotion. The Gnostics blended with the faith of Christ many sublime but obscure tenets, which they derived from oriental philosophy, and even from the religion of Zoroaster, concerning the eternity of matter, the existence of two principles, and the mysterious hierarchy of the invisible world. As soon as they launched out into that vast abyss, they delivered themselves to the guidance of a disordered imagination; and as the paths of error are various and infinite, the Gnostics were imperceptibly divided into more than fifty particular sects, of whom the most celebrated appear to have been the Basilidians, the Valentinians, the Marcionites, and, in a still later period, the Manichæans. Each of these sects could boast of its bishops and congregations, of its doctors and martyrs, and, instead of the four gospels adopted by the church, the heretics produced a multitude of histories, in which the actions and discourses of Christ and of his apostles were adapted to their respective tenets. The success of the Gnostics was rapid and extensive. They covered Asia and Egypt, established themselves in Rome, and sometimes penetrated into the provinces of the West. For the most part they arose in the second century, flourished during the third, and were suppressed in the fourth or fifth, by the prevalence of more fashionable controversies, and by the superior ascendant of the reigning power. Though they constantly disturbed the peace, and frequently disgraced the name, of religion, they contributed to assist rather than to retard the progress of Christianity. The Gentile converts, whose strongest objections and prejudices were directed against the law of Moses, could find admission into many Christian societies, which required not from their untutored mind any belief of an antecedent revelation. Their faith was insensibly fortified and enlarged, and the church was ultimately benefited by the conquests of its most inveterate enemies.[*]

But whatever difference of opinion might subsist between the Orthodox, the Ebionites, and the Gnostics, concerning the divinity or the obligation of the Mosaic law, they were all equally animated by the same exclusive zeal, and by the same abhorrence for idolatry which had distinguished the Jews from the other nations of the ancient world. The philosopher, who considered the system of polytheism as a composition of human fraud and error, could disguise a smile of contempt under the mask of devotion, without apprehending that either the mockery, or the compliance, would expose him to the resentment of any invisible, or, as he conceived them, imaginary powers. But the established religions of Paganism were seen by the primitive Christians in a much more odious and formidable light. It was the universal sentiment both of the church and of heretics, that the daemons were the authors, the patrons, and the objects of idolatry. Those rebellious spirits who had been degraded from the rank of angels, and cast down into the infernal pit, were still permitted to roam upon earth, to torment the bodies, and to seduce the minds, of sinful men. The daemons soon discovered and abused the natural propensity of the human heart towards devotion, and, artfully withdrawing the adoration of mankind from their Creator, they usurped the place and honours of the Supreme Deity. By the success of their malicious contrivances, they at once gratified their own vanity and revenge, and obtained the only comfort of which they were yet susceptible, the hope of involving the human species in the participation of their guilt and misery. It was confessed, or at least it was imagined, that they had distributed among themselves the most important characters of polytheism, one daemon assuming the name and attributes of Jupiter, another of Æsculapius, a third of Venus, and a fourth perhaps of Apollo;[*] and that, by the advantage of their long experience and aërial nature, they were enabled to execute, with sufficient skill and dignity, the parts which they had undertaken. They lurked in the temples, instituted festivals and sacrifices, invented fables, pronounced oracles, and were frequently allowed to perform miracles. The Christians, who, by the interposition of evil spirits, could so readily explain every præternatural appearance, were disposed and even desirous to admit the most extravagant fictions of the Pagan mythology. But the belief of the Christian was accompanied with horror. The most trifling mark of respect to the national worship he considered as a direct homage yielded to the daemon, and as an act of rebellion against the majesty of God.

In consequence of this opinion, it was the first but arduous duty of a Christian to preserve himself pure and undefiled by the practice of idolatry. The religion of the nations was not merely a speculative doctrine professed in the schools or preached in the temples. The innumerable deities and rites of polytheism were closely inter-woven with every circumstance of business or pleasure, of public or of private life; and it seemed impossible to escape the observance of them, without, at the same time, renouncing the commerce of mankind, and all the offices and amusements of society. The important transactions of peace and war were prepared or concluded by solemn sacrifices, in which the magistrate, the senator, and the soldier, were obliged to preside or to participate.[*] The public spectacles were an essential part of the cheerful devotion of the Pagans, and the gods were supposed to accept, as the most grateful offering, the games that the prince and people celebrated in honour of their peculiar festivals. The Christian, who with pious horror avoided the abomination of the circus or the theatre, found himself encompassed with infernal snares in every convivial entertainment, as often as his friends, invoking the hospitable deifies, poured out libations to each other's happiness.[†] When the bride, struggling with well-affected reluctance, was forced in hymenæal pomp over the threshold of her new habitation, or when the sad procession of the dead slowly moved towards the funeral pile; the Christian, on these interesting occasions, was compelled to desert the persons who were the dearest to him, rather than contract the guilt inherent to those impious ceremonies. Every art and every trade that was in the least concerned in the framing or adorning of idols was polluted by the stain of idolatry; a severe sentence, since it devoted to eternal misery the far greater part of the community, which is employed in the exercise of liberal or mechanic professions. If we cast our eyes over the numerous remains of antiquity, we shall perceive, that besides the immediate representations of the Gods, and the holy instruments of their worship, the elegant forms and agreeable fictions consecrated by the imagination of the Greeks, were introduced as the richest ornaments of the houses, the dress, and the furniture, of the Pagans.[*] Even the arts of music and painting, of eloquence and poetry, flowed from the same impure origin. In the style of the fathers, Apollo and the Muses were the organs of the infernal spirit, Homer and Virgil were the most eminent of his servants, and the beautiful mythology which pervades and animates the compositions of their genius, is destined to celebrate the glory of the daemons. Even the common language of Greece and Rome abounded with familiar but impious expressions, which the imprudent Christian might too carelessly utter, or too patiently hear.[†]

The dangerous temptations which on every side lurked in ambush to surprise the unguarded believer, assailed him with redoubled violence on the days of solemn festivals. So artfully were they framed and disposed throughout the year, that superstition always wore the appearance of pleasure, and often of virtue. Some of the most sacred festivals in the Roman ritual were destined to salute the new calends of January with vows of public and private felicity, to indulge the pious remembrance of the dead and living, to ascertain the inviolable bounds of property, to hail, on the return of spring, the genial powers of fecundity, to perpetuate the two memorable æras of Rome, the foundation of the city, and that of the republic, and to restore, during the humane license of the Saturnalia, the primitive equality of mankind. Some idea may be conceived of the abhorrence of the Christians for such impious ceremonies, by the scrupulous delicacy which they displayed on a much less alarming occasion. On days of general festivity, it was the custom of the ancients to adorn their doors with lamps and with branches of laurel, and to crown their heads with a garland of flowers. This innocent and elegant practice might perhaps have been tolerated as a mere civil institution. But it most unluckily happened that the doors were under the protection of the household gods, that the laurel was sacred to the lover of Daphne, and that garlands of flowers, though frequently worn as a symbol either of joy or mourning, had been dedicated in their first origin to the service of superstition. The trembling Christians, who were persuaded in this instance to comply with the fashion of their country, and the commands of the magistrate, laboured under the most gloomy apprehensions, from the reproaches of their own conscience, the censures of the church, and the denunciations of divine vengeance.

Such was the anxious diligence which was required to guard the chastity of the gospel from the infectious breath of idolatry. The superstitious observances of public or private rites were carelessly practised, from education and habit, by the followers of the established religion. But as often as they occurred, they afforded the Christians an opportunity of declaring and confirming their zealous opposition. By these frequent protestations their attachment to the faith was continually fortified, and in proportion to the increase of zeal, they combated with the more ardour and success in the holy war, which they had undertaken against the empire of the daemons. II. The writings of Cicero represent in the most lively colours the ignorance, the errors, and the uncertainty of the ancient philosophers with regard to the immortality of the soul. When they are desirous of arming their disciples against the fear of death, they inculcate, as an obvious, though melancholy position, that the fatal stroke of our dissolution releases us from the calamities of life; and that those can no longer suffer who no longer exist. Yet there were a few sages of Greece and Rome who had conceived a more exalted, and, in some respects, a juster idea of human nature; though it must be confessed, that, in the sublime inquiry, their reason had been often guided by their imagination, and that their imagination had been prompted by their vanity. When they viewed with complacency the extent of their own mental powers, when they exercised the various faculties of memory, of fancy, and of judgment, in the most profound speculations, or the most important labours, and when they reflected on the desire of fame, which transported them into future ages, far beyond the bounds of death and of the grave; they were unwilling to confound themselves with the beasts of the field, or to suppose, that a being, for whose dignity they entertained the most sincere admiration, could be limited to a spot of earth, and to a few years of duration. With this favourable prepossession they summoned to their aid the science, or rather the language, of Metaphysics. They soon discovered, that as none of the properties of matter will apply to the operations of the mind, the human soul must consequently be a substance distinct from the body, pure, simple, and spiritual, incapable of dissolution, and susceptible of a much higher degree of virtue and happiness after the release from its corporeal prison. From these specious and noble principles, the philosophers who trod in the footsteps of Plato, deduced a very unjustifiable conclusion, since they asserted, not only the future immortality, but the past eternity of the human soul, which they were too apt to consider as a portion of the infinite and self-existing spirit, which pervades and sustains the universe. A doctrine thus removed beyond the senses and the experience of mankind, might serve to amuse the leisure of a philosophic mind; or, in the silence of solitude, it might sometimes impart a ray of comfort to desponding virtue; but the faint impression which had been received in the schools, was soon obliterated by the commerce and business of active life. We are sufficiently acquainted with the eminent persons who flourished in the age of Cicero, and of the first Caesars, with their actions, their characters, and their motives, to be assured that their conduct in this life was never regulated by any serious conviction of the rewards or punishments of a future state. At the bar and in the senate of Rome the ablest orators were not apprehensive of giving offence to their hearers, by exposing that doctrine as an idle and extravagant opinion, which was rejected with contempt by every man of a liberal education and understanding.

Since therefore the most sublime efforts of philosophy can extend no farther than feebly to point out the desire, the hope, or, at most, the probability, of a future state, there is nothing, except a divine revelation, that can ascertain the existence, and describe the condition of the invisible country which is destined to receive the souls of men after their separation from the body. But we may perceive several defects inherent to the popular religions of Greece and Rome, which rendered them very unequal to so arduous a task. 1. The general system of their mythology was unsupported by any solid proofs; and the wisest among the Pagans had already disclaimed its usurped authority. 2. The description of the infernal regions had been abandoned to the fancy of painters and of poets, who peopled them with so many phantoms and monsters, who dispensed their rewards and punishments with so little equity, that a solemn truth, the most congenial to the human heart, was oppressed and disgraced by the absurd mixture of the wildest fictions.[*] 3. The doctrine of a future state was scarcely considered among the devout polytheists of Greece and Rome as a fundamental article of faith. The providence of the gods, as it related to public communities rather than to private individuals, was principally displayed on the visible theatre of the present world. The petitions which were offered on the altars of Jupiter or Apollo, expressed the anxiety of their worshippers for temporal happiness, and their ignorance or indifference concerning a future life. The important truth of the immortality of the soul was inculcated with more diligence as well as success in India, in Assyria, in Egypt, and in Gaul; and since we cannot attribute such a difference to the superior knowledge of the barbarians, we must ascribe it to the influence of an established priesthood, which employed the motives of virtue as the instrument of ambition.

We might naturally expect, that a principle so essential to religion, would have been revealed in the clearest terms to the chosen people of Palestine, and that it might safely have been intrusted to the hereditary priesthood of Aaron. It is incumbent on us to adore the mysterious dispensations of Providence, when we discover, that the doctrine of the immortality of the soul is omitted in the law of Moses; it is darkly insinuated by the prophets, and during the long period which elapsed between the Egyptian and the Babylonian servitudes, the hopes as well as fears of the Jews appear to have been confined within the narrow compass of the present life. After Cyrus had permitted the exiled nation to return into the promised land, and after Ezra had restored the ancient records of their religion, two celebrated sects, the Sadducees and the Pharisees, insensibly arose at Jerusalem. The former selected from the more opulent and distinguished ranks of society, were strictly attached to the literal sense of the Mosaic law, and they piously rejected the immortality of the soul, as an opinion that received no countenance from the divine book, which they revered as the only rule of their faith. To the authority of scripture the Pharisees added that of tradition, and they accepted, under the name of traditions, several speculative tenets from the philosophy or religion of the eastern nations. The doctrines of fate or predestination, of angels and spirits, and of a future state of rewards and punishments, were in the number of these new articles of belief; and as the Pharisees, by the austerity of their manners, had drawn into their party the body of the Jewish people, the immortality of the soul became the prevailing sentiment of the synagogue, under the reign of the Asmonæan princes and pontiffs. The temper of the Jews was incapable of contenting itself with such a cold and languid assent as might satisfy the mind of a Polytheist; and as soon as they admitted the idea of a future state, they embraced it with the zeal which has always formed the characteristic of the nation. Their zeal, however, added nothing to its evidence, or even probability: and it was still necessary, that the doctrine of life and immortality, which had been dictated by nature, approved by reason, and received by superstition, should obtain the sanction of divine truth from the authority and example of Christ.

When the promise of eternal happiness was proposed to mankind, on condition of adopting the faith, and of observing the precepts of the gospel, it is no wonder that so advantageous an offer should have been accepted by great numbers of every religion, of every rank, and of every province in the Roman empire. The ancient Christians were animated by a contempt for their present existence, and by a just confidence of immortality, of which the doubtful and imperfect faith of modern ages cannot give us any adequate notion. In the primitive church, the influence of truth was very powerfully strengthened by an opinion, which, however it may deserve respect for its usefulness and antiquity, has not been found agreeable to experience. It was universally believed, that the end of the world, and the kingdom of Heaven, were at hand. The near approach of this wonderful event had been predicted by the apostles; the tradition of it was preserved by their earliest disciples, and those who understood in their literal sense the discourses of Christ himself, were obliged to expect the second and glorious coming of the Son of Man in the clouds, before that generation was totally extinguished, which had beheld his humble condition upon earth, and which might still be witness of the calamities of the Jews under Vespasian or Hadrian. The revolution of seventeen centuries has instructed us not to press too closely the mysterious language of prophecy and revelation; but as long as, for wise purposes, this error was permitted to subsist in the church, it was productive of the most salutary effects on the faith and practice of Christians, who lived in the awful expectation of that moment when the globe itself, and all the various race of mankind, should tremble at the appearance of their divine judge.[*]

The ancient and popular doctrine of the Millennium was intimately connected with the second coming of Christ. As the works of the creation had been finished in six days, their duration in their present state, according to a tradition which was attributed to the prophet Elijah, was fixed to six thousand years. By the same analogy it was inferred, that this long period of labour and contention, which was now almost elapsed, would be succeeded by a joyful Sabbath of a thousand years; and that Christ, with the triumphant band of the saints and the elect who had escaped death, or who had been miraculously revived, would reign upon earth till the time appointed for the last and general resurrection. So pleasing was this hope to the mind of believers, that the New Jerusalem, the seat of this blissful kingdom, was quickly adorned with all the gayest colours of the imagination. A felicity consisting only of pure and spiritual pleasure, would have appeared too reined for its inhabitants, who were still supposed to possess their human nature and senses. A garden of Eden, with the amusements of the pastoral life, was no longer suited to the advanced state of society which prevailed under the Roman empire. A city was therefore erected of gold and precious stones, and a supernatural plenty of corn and wine was bestowed on the adjacent territory; in the free enjoyment of whose spontaneous productions, the happy and benevolent people was never to be restrained by any jealous laws of exclusive property. The assurance of such a Millennium, was carefully inculcated by a succession of fathers from Justin Martyr and Irenæus, who conversed with the immediate disciples of the apostles, down to Lactantius, who was preceptor to the son of Constantine. Though it might not be universally received, it appears to have been the reigning sentiment of the orthodox believers; and it seems so well adapted to the desires and apprehensions of mankind, that it must have contributed in a very considerable degree to the progress of the Christian faith. But when the edifice of the church was almost completed, the temporary support was laid aside. The doctrine of Christ's reign upon earth, was at first treated as a profound allegory, was considered by degrees as a doubtful and useless opinion, and was at length rejected as the absurd invention of heresy and fanaticism. A mysterious prophecy, which still forms a part of the sacred canon, but which was thought to favour the exploded sentiment, has very narrowly escaped the proscription of the church.[*]

Whilst the happiness and glory of a temporal reign were promised to the disciples of Christ, the most dreadful calamities were denounced against an unbelieving world. The edification of the new Jerusalem was to advance by equal steps with the destruction of the mystic Babylon; and as long as the emperors who reigned before Constantine persisted in the profession of idolatry, the epithet of Babylon was applied to the city and to the empire of Rome. A regular series was prepared of all the moral and physical evils which can afflict a flourishing nation; intestine discord, and the invasion of the fiercest barbarians from the unknown regions of the North; pestilence and famine, comets and eclipses, earthquakes and inundations. All these were only so many preparatory and alarming signs of the great catastrophe of Rome, when the country of the Scipios and Cæsars should be consumed by a flame from Heaven, and the city of the seven hills, with her palaces, her temples, and her triumphal arches, should be buried in a vast lake of ire and brimstone. It might, however, afford some consolation to Roman vanity, that the period of their empire would be that of the world itself; which, as it had once perished by the element of water, was destined to experience a second and a speedy destruction from the element of ire. In the opinion of a general conflagration, the faith of the Christian very happily coincided with the tradition of the East, the philosophy of the Stoics, and the analogy of Nature; and even the country, which, from religious motives, had been chosen for the origin and principal scene of the conflagration, was the best adapted for that purpose by natural and physical causes; by its deep caverns, beds of sulphur, and numerous volcanoes, of which those of Ætna, of Vesuvius, and of Lipari, exhibit a very imperfect representation. The calmest and most intrepid sceptic could not refuse to acknowledge, that the destruction of the present system of the world by fire, was in itself extremely probable. The Christian, who founded his belief much less on the fallacious arguments of reason than on the authority of tradition and the interpretation of scripture, expected it with terror and confidence as a certain and approaching event; and as his mind was perpetually filled with the solemn idea, he considered every disaster that happened to the empire as an infallible symptom of an expiring world.[*]

The condemnation of the wisest and most virtuous of the Pagans, on account of their ignorance or disbelief of the divine truth, seems to offend the reason and the humanity of the present age. But the primitive church, whose faith was of a much firmer consistence, delivered over, without hesitation, to eternal torture, the far greater part of the human species. A charitable hope might perhaps be indulged in favour of Socrates, or some other sages of antiquity, who had consulted the light of reason before that of the gospel had arisen. But it was unanimously affirmed, that those who, since the birth or the death of Christ, had obstinately persisted in the worship of the dæmons, neither deserved nor could expect a pardon from the irritated justice of the Deity. These rigid sentiments, which had been unknown to the ancient world, appear to have infused a spirit of bitterness into a system of love and harmony. The ties of blood and friendship were frequently torn asunder by the difference of religious faith; and the Christians, who, in this world, found themselves oppressed by the power of the Pagans, were sometimes seduced by resentment and spiritual pride to delight in the prospect of their future triumph. 'You are fond of spectacles,' exclaims the stern Tertullian, 'expect the greatest of all spectacles, the last and eternal judgment of the universe. How shall I admire, how laugh, how rejoice, how exult, when I behold so many proud monarchs, and fancied gods, groaning in the lowest abyss of darkness; so many magistrates who persecuted the name of the Lord, liquefying in fiercer fires than they ever kindled against the Christians; so many sage philosophers blushing in red hot lames with their deluded scholars; so many celebrated poets trembling before the tribunal, not of Minos, but of Christ; so many tragedians, more tuneful in the expression of their own sufferings; so many dancers -' But the humanity of the reader will permit me to draw a veil over the rest of this infernal description, which the zealous African pursues in a long variety of affected and unfeeling witticisms.

Doubtless there were many among the primitive Christians of a temper more suitable to the meekness and charity of their profession. There were many who felt a sincere compassion for the danger of their friends and countrymen, and who exerted the most benevolent zeal to save them from the impending destruction. The careless Polytheist, assailed by new and unexpected terrors, against which neither his priests nor his philosophers could afford him any certain protection, was very frequently terrified and subdued by the menace of eternal tortures. His fears might assist the progress of his faith and reason; and if he could once persuade himself to suspect that the Christian religion might possibly be true, it became an easy task to convince him that it was the safest and most prudent party that he could possibly embrace.

III. The supernatural gifts, which even in this life were ascribed to the Christians above the rest of mankind, must have conduced to their own comfort, and very frequently to the conviction of infidels. Besides the occasional prodigies, which might sometimes be effected by the immediate interposition of the Deity when he suspended the laws of Nature for the service of religion, the Christian church, from the time of the apostles and their first disciples, has claimed an uninterrupted succession of miraculous powers, the gift of tongues, of vision and of prophecy, the power of expelling dæmons, of healing the sick, and of raising the dead. The knowledge of foreign languages was frequently communicated to the contemporaries of Irenæus, though Irenæus himself was left to struggle with the difficulties of a barbarous dialect whilst he preached the gospel to the natives of Gaul. The divine inspiration, whether it was conveyed in the form of a waking or of a sleeping vision, is described as a favour very liberally bestowed on all ranks of the faithful, on women as on elders, on boys as well as upon bishops. When their devout minds were sufficiently prepared by a course of prayer, of fasting, and of vigils, to receive the extraordinary impulse, they were transported out of their senses, and delivered in extasy what was inspired, being mere organs of the holy spirit, just as a pipe or lute is of him who blows into it. We may add, that the design of these visions was, for the most part, either to disclose the future history, or to guide the present administration of the church. The expulsion of the dæmons from the bodies of those unhappy persons whom they had been permitted to torment, was considered as a signal though ordinary triumph of religion, and is repeatedly alleged by the ancient apologists, as the most convincing evidence of the truth of Christianity. The awful ceremony was usually performed in a public manner, and in the presence of a great number of spectators; the patient was relieved by the power or skill of the exorcist, and the vanquished dæmon was heard to confess, that he was one of the fabled gods of antiquity, who had impiously usurped the adoration of mankind. But the miraculous cure of diseases of the most inveterate or even preternatural kind, can no longer occasion any surprise, when we recollect, that in the days of Irenæus, about the end of the second century, the resurrection of the dead was very far from being esteemed an uncommon event; that the miracle was frequently performed on necessary occasions, by great fasting and the joint supplication of the church of the place, and that the persons thus restored to their prayers, had lived afterwards among them many years. At such a period, when faith could boast of so many wonderful victories over death, it seems difficult to account for the scepticism of those philosophers, who still rejected and derided the doctrine of the resurrection. A noble Grecian had rested on this important ground the whole controversy, and promised Theophilus, bishop of Antioch, that if he could be gratified with the sight of a single person who had been actually raised from the dead, he would immediately embrace the Christian religion. It is somewhat remarkable, that the prelate of the first eastern church, however anxious for the conversion of his friend, thought proper to decline this fair and reasonable challenge.

The miracles of the primitive church, after obtaining the sanction of ages, have been lately attacked in a very free and ingenious inquiry; which, though it has met with the most favourable reception from the Public, appears to have excited a general scandal among the divines of our own as well as of the other Protestant churches of Europe. Our different sentiments on this subject will be much less influenced by any particular arguments, than by our habits of study and reflection; and above all, by the degree of the evidence which we have accustomed ourselves to require for the proof of a miraculous event. The duty of an historian does not call upon him to interpose his private judgment in this nice and important controversy; but he ought not to dissemble the difficulty of adopting such a theory as may reconcile the interest of religion with that of reason, of making a proper application of that theory, and of defining with precision the limits of that happy period exempt from error and from deceit, to which we might be disposed to extend the gift of supernatural powers. From the first of the fathers to the last of the popes, a succession of bishops, of saints, of martyrs, and of miracles, is continued without interruption, and the progress of superstition was so gradual and almost imperceptible, that we know not in what particular link we should break the chain of tradition. Every age bears testimony to the wonderful events by which it was distinguished, and its testimony appears no less weighty and respectable than that of the preceding generation, till we are insensibly led on to accuse our own inconsistency, if in the eighth or in the twelfth century we deny to the venerable Bede, or to the holy Bernard, the same degree of confidence which, in the second century, we had so liberally granted to Justin or to Irenams.[*] If the truth of any of those miracles is appreciated by their apparent use and propriety, every age had unbelievers to convince, heretics to confute, and idolatrous nations to convert; and sufficient motives might always be produced to justify the interposition of Heaven. And yet since every friend to revelation is persuaded of the reality, and every reasonable man is convinced of the cessation, of miraculous powers, it is evident that there must have been some period in which they were either suddenly or gradually withdrawn from the Christian church. Whatever sera is chosen for that purpose, the death of the apostles, the conversion of the Roman empire, or the extinction of the Arian heresy,[*] the insensibility of the Christians who lived at that time will equally afford a just matter of surprise. They still supported their pretensions after they had lost their power. Credulity performed the office of faith; fanaticism was permitted to assume the language of inspiration, and the effects of accident or contrivance were ascribed to supernatural causes. The recent experience of genuine miracles should have instructed the Christian world in the ways of providence, and habituated their eye (if we may use a very inadequate expression) to the style of the divine artist. Should the most skilful painter of modern Italy presume to decorate his feeble imitations with the name of Raphael or of Correggio, the insolent fraud would be soon discovered and indignantly rejected.

Whatever opinion may be entertained of the miracles of the primitive church since the time of the apostles, this unresisting softness of temper, so conspicuous among the believers of the second and third centuries, proved of some accidental benefit to the cause of truth and religion. In modem times, a latent and even involuntary scepticism adheres to the most pious dispositions. Their admission of supernatural truths is much less an active consent, than a cold and passive acquiescence. Accustomed long since to observe and to respect the invariable order of Nature, our reason, or at least our imagination, is not sufficiently prepared to sustain the visible action of the Deity. But, in the first ages of Christianity, the situation of mankind was extremely different. The most curious, or the most credulous, among the Pagans, were often persuaded to enter into a society, which asserted an actual claim of miraculous powers. The primitive Christians perpetually trod on mystic ground, and their minds were exercised by the habits of believing the most extraordinary events. They felt, or they fancied, that on every side they were incessantly assaulted by dæmons, comforted by visions, instructed by prophecy, and surprisingly delivered from danger, sickness, and from death itself, by the supplications of the church. The real or imaginary prodigies, of which they so frequently conceived themselves to be the objects, the instruments, or the spectators, very happily disposed them to adopt with the same ease, but with far greater justice, the authentic wonders of the evangelic history; and thus miracles that exceeded not the measure of their own experience, inspired them with the most lively assurance of mysteries which were acknowledged to surpass the limits of their understanding. It is this deep impression of supernatural truths, which has been so much celebrated under the name of faith; a state of mind described as the surest pledge of the divine favour and of future felicity, and recommended as the first or perhaps the only merit of a Christian. According to the more rigid doctors, the moral virtues, which may be equally practised by infidels, are destitute of any value or efficacy in the work of our justification.

IV. But the primitive Christian demonstrated his faith by his virtues; and it was very justly supposed that the divine persuasion which enlightened or subdued the understanding, must, at the same time, purify the heart and direct the actions of the believer. The first apologists of Christianity who justify the innocence of their brethren, and the writers of a later period who celebrate the sanctity of their ancestors, display, in the most lively colours, the reformation of manners which was introduced into the world by the preaching of the gospel. As it is my intention to remark only such human causes as were permitted to second the influence of revelation, I shall slightly mention two motives which might naturally render the lives of the primitive Christians much purer and more austere than those of their Pagan contemporaries, or their degenerate successors; repentance for their past sins, and the laudable desire of supporting the reputation of the society in which they were engaged.

It is a very ancient reproach, suggested by the ignorance or the malice of infidelity, that the Christians allured into their party the most atrocious criminals, who, as soon as they were touched by a sense of remorse, were easily persuaded to wash away, in the water of baptism, the guilt of their past conduct, for which the temples of the gods refused to grant them any expiation. But this reproach, when it is cleared from misrepresentation, contributes as much to the honour as it did to the increase of the church. The friends of Christianity may acknowledge without a blush, that many of the most eminent saints had been before their baptism the most abandoned sinners. Those persons, who in the world had followed, though in an imperfect manner, the dictates of benevolence and propriety, derived such a calm satisfaction from the opinion of their own rectitude, as rendered them much less susceptible of the sudden emotions of shame, of grief, and of terror, which have given birth to so many wonderful conversions. After the example of their Divine Master, the missionaries of the gospel disdained not the society of men, and especially of women, oppressed by the consciousness, and very often by the effects, of their vices. As they emerged from sin and superstition to the glorious hope of immortality, they resolved to devote themselves to a life, not only of virtue, but of penitence. The desire of perfection became the ruling passion of their soul; and it is well known, that while reason embraces a cold mediocrity, our passions hurry us, with rapid violence, over the space which lies between the most opposite extremes.

When the new converts had been enrolled in the number of the faithful, and were admitted to the sacraments of the church, they found themselves restrained from relapsing into their past disorders by another consideration of a less spiritual, but of a very innocent and respectable nature. Any particular society that has departed from the great body of the nation, or the religion to which it belonged, immediately becomes the object of universal as well as invidious observation. In proportion to the smallness of its numbers, the character of the society may be affected by the virtue and vices of the persons who compose it; and every member is engaged to watch with the most vigilant attention over his own behaviour, and over that of his brethren, since, as he must expect to incur a part of the common disgrace, he may hope to enjoy a share of the common reputation. When the Christians of Bithynia were brought before the tribunal of the younger Pliny, they assured the proconsul, that, far from being engaged in any unlawful conspiracy, they were bound by a solemn obligation to abstain from the commission of those crimes which disturb the private or public peace of society, from theft, robbery, adultery, perjury, and fraud. Near a century afterwards, Tertullian, with an honest pride, could boast, that very few Christians had suffered by the hand of the executioner, except on account of their religion. Their serious and sequestered life, averse to the gay luxury of the age, inured them to chastity, temperance, œconomy, and all the sober and domestic virtues. As the greater number were of some trade or profession, it was incumbent on them, by the strictest integrity and the fairest dealing, to remove the suspicions which the profane are too apt to conceive against the appearances of sanctity. The contempt of the world exercised them in the habits of humility, meekness, and patience. The more they were persecuted, the more closely they adhered to each other. Their mutual charity and unsuspecting confidence has been remarked by infidels, and was too often abused by perfidious friends.[*]

It is a very honourable circumstance for the morals of the primitive Christians, that even their faults, or rather errors, were derived from an excess of virtue. The bishops and doctors of the church, whose evidence attests, and whose authority might influence, the professions, the principles, and even the practice, of their contemporaries, had studied the scriptures with less skill than devotion, and they often received, in the most literal sense, those rigid precepts of Christ and the apostles, to which the prudence of succeeding commentators has applied a looser and more figurative mode of interpretation. Ambitious to exalt the perfection of the gospel above the wisdom of philosophy, the zealous fathers have carried the duties of self-mortification, of purity, and of patience, to a height which it is scarcely possible to attain, and much less to preserve, in our present state of weakness and corruption. A doctrine so extraordinary and so sublime must inevitably command the veneration of the people; but it was ill calculated to obtain the suffrage of those worldly philosophers, who, in the conduct of this transitory life, consult only the feelings of nature and the interest of society.

There are two very natural propensities which we may distinguish in the most virtuous and liberal dispositions, the love of pleasure and the love of action. If the former is reined by art and learning, improved by the charms of social intercourse, and corrected by a just regard to œconomy, to health, and to reputation, it is productive of the greatest part of the happiness of private life. The love of action is a principle of a much stronger and more doubtful nature. It often leads to anger, to ambition, and to revenge; but when it is guided by the sense of propriety and benevolence, it becomes the parent of every virtue; and if those virtues are accompanied with equal abilities, a family, a state, or an empire, may be indebted for their safety and prosperity to the undaunted courage of a single man. To the love of pleasure we may therefore ascribe most of the agreeable, to the love of action we may attribute most of the useful and respectable, qualifications. The character in which both the one and the other should be united and harmonized, would seem to constitute the most perfect idea of human nature. The insensible and inactive disposition, which should be supposed alike destitute of both, would be rejected, by the common consent of mankind, as utterly incapable of procuring any happiness to the individual, or any public benefit to the world. But it was not in this world that the primitive Christians were desirous of making themselves either agreeable or useful.

The acquisition of knowledge, the exercise of our reason or fancy, and the cheerful low of unguarded conversation, may employ the leisure of a liberal mind. Such amusements, however, were rejected with abhorrence, or admitted with the utmost caution, by the severity of the fathers, who despised all knowledge that was not useful to salvation, and who considered all levity of discourse as a criminal abuse of the gift of speech. In our present state of existence, the body is so inseparably connected with the soul, that it seems to be our interest to taste, with innocence and moderation, the enjoyments of which that faithful companion is susceptible. Very different was the reasoning of our devout predecessors; vainly aspiring to imitate the perfection of angels, they disdained, or they affected to disdain, every earthly and corporeal delight. Some of our senses indeed are necessary for our preservation, others for our subsistence, and others again for our information, and thus far it was impossible to reject the use of them. The first sensation of pleasure was marked as the first moment of their abuse. The unfeeling candidate for Heaven was instructed, not only to resist the grosser allurements of the taste or smell, but even to shut his ears against the profane harmony of sounds, and to view with indifference the most finished productions of human art. Gay apparel, magnificent houses, and elegant furniture, were supposed to unite the double guilt of pride and of sensuality: a simple and mortified appearance was more suitable to the Christian who was certain of his sins and doubtful of his salvation. In their censures of luxury, the fathers are extremely minute and circumstantial; and among the various articles which excite their pious indignation, we may enumerate false hair, garments of any colour except white, instruments of music, vases of gold or silver, downy pillows (as Jacob reposed his head on a stone), white bread, foreign wines, public salutations, the use of warm baths, and the practice of shaving the beard, which, according to the expression of Tertullian, is a lie against our own faces, and an impious attempt to improve the works of the Creator. When Christianity was introduced among the rich and the polite, the observation of these singular laws was let, as it would be at present, to the few who were ambitious of superior sanctity. But it is always easy, as well as agreeable, for the inferior ranks of mankind to claim a merit from the contempt of that pomp and pleasure, which fortune has placed beyond their reach. The virtue of the primitive Christians, like that of the first Romans, was very frequently guarded by poverty and ignorance.

The chaste severity of the fathers, in whatever related to the commerce of the two sexes, flowed from the same principle; their abhorrence of every enjoyment, which might gratify the sensual, and degrade the spiritual, nature of man. It was their favourite opinion, that if Adam had preserved his obedience to the Creator, he would have lived for ever in a state of virgin purity, and that some harmless mode of vegetation might have peopled paradise with a race of innocent and immortal beings. The use of marriage was permitted only to his fallen posterity, as a necessary expedient to continue the human species, and as a restraint, however imperfect, on the natural licentiousness of desire. The hesitation of the orthodox casuists on this interesting subject, betrays the perplexity of men, unwilling to approve an institution, which they were compelled to tolerate. The enumeration of the very whimsical laws, which they most circumstantially imposed on the marriage-bed, would force a smile from the young, and a blush from the fair. It was their unanimous sentiment, that a first marriage was adequate to all the purposes of nature and of society. The sensual connexion was refined into a resemblance of the mystic union of Christ with his church, and was pronounced to be indissoluble either by divorce or by death. The practice of second nuptials was branded with the name of a legal adultery; and the persons who were guilty of so scandalous an offence against Christian purity, were soon exduded from the honours, and even from the alms, of the church. Since desire was imputed as a crime, and marriage was tolerated as a defect, it was consistent with the same principles to consider a state of celibacy as the nearest approach to the Divine perfection. It was with the utmost difficulty that ancient Rome could support the institution of six vestals;[*] but the primitive church was filled with a great number of persons of either sex, who had devoted themselves to the profession of perpetual chastity. A few of these, among whom we may reckon the learned Origen, judged it the most prudent to disarm the tempter.[†] Some were insensible and some were invincible against the assaults of the flesh. Disdaining an ignominious flight, the virgins of the warm climate of Africa encountered the enemy in the closest engagement; they permitted priests and deacons to share their bed, and gloried amidst the flames in their unsullied purity. But. insulted Nature sometimes vindicated her rights, and this new species of martyrdom served only to introduce a new scandal into the church.[*] Among the Christian ascetics, however (a name which they soon acquired from their painful exercise), many, as they were less presumptuous, were probably more successful. The loss of sensual pleasure was supplied and compensated by spiritual pride. Even the multitude of Pagans were inclined to estimate the merit of the sacrifice by its apparent difficulty; and it was in the praise of these chaste spouses of Christ that the fathers have poured forth the troubled stream of their eloquence. [†] Such are the early traces of monastic principles and institutions, which, in a subsequent age, have counterbalanced all the temporal advantages of Christianity.

The Christians were not less averse to the business than to the pleasures of this world. The defence of our persons and property they knew not how to reconcile with the patient doctrine which enjoined an unlimited forgiveness of past injuries, and commanded them to invite the repetition of fresh insults. Their simplicity was offended by the use of oaths, by the pomp of magistracy, and by the active contention of public life, nor could their humane ignorance be convinced, that it was lawful on any occasion to shed the blood of our fellow creatures, either by the sword of justice, or by that of war; even though their criminal or hostile attempts should threaten the peace and safety of the whole community.[*] It was acknowledged, that, under a less perfect law, the powers of the Jewish constitution had been exercised, with the approbation of Heaven, by inspired prophets and by anointed kings. The Christians felt and confessed, that such institutions might be necessary for the present system of the world, and they cheerfully submitted to the authority of their Pagan governors. But while they inculcated the maxims of passive obedience, they refused to take any active part in the civil administration or the military defence of the empire. Some indulgence might perhaps be allowed to those persons who, before their conversion, were already engaged in such violent and sanguinary occupations; but it was impossible that the Christians, without renouncing a more sacred duty, could assume the character of soldiers, of magistrates, or of princes. This indolent, or even criminal disregard to the public welfare, exposed them to the contempt and reproaches of the Pagans, who very frequently asked, what must be the fate of the empire, attacked on every side by the barbarians, if all mankind should adopt the pusillanimous sentiments of the new sect? To this insulting question the Christian apologists returned obscure and ambiguous answers, as they were unwilling to reveal the secret cause of their security; the expectation that, before the conversion of mankind was accomplished, war, government, the Roman empire, and the world itself, would be no more. It may be observed, that, in this instance likewise, the situation of the first Christians coincided very happily with their religious scruples, and that their aversion to an active life contributed rather to excuse them from the service, than to exclude them from the honours, of the state and army.

V. But the human character, however it may be exalted or depressed by a temporary enthusiasm, will return by degrees to its proper and natural level, and will resume those passions that seem the most adapted to its present condition. The primitive Christians were dead to the business and pleasures of the world; but their love of action, which could never be entirely extinguished, soon revived, and found a new occupation in the government of the church. A separate society, which attacked the established religion of the empire, was obliged to adopt some form of internal policy, and to appoint a sufficient number of ministers, intrusted not only with the spiritual functions, but even with the temporal direction of the Christian commonwealth. The safety of that society, its honour, its aggrandisement, were productive, even in the most pious minds, of a spirit of patriotism, such as the first of the Romans had felt for the republic, and sometimes, of a similar indifference, in the use of whatever means might probably conduce to so desirable an end. The ambition of raising themselves or their friends to the honours and offices of the church, was disguised by the laudable intention of devoting to the public benefit, the power and consideration, which, for that purpose only, it became their duty to solicit. In the exercise of their functions, they were frequently called upon to detect the errors of heresy, or the arts of faction, to oppose the designs of perfidious brethren, to stigmatize their characters with deserved infamy, and to expel them from the bosom of a society, whose peace and happiness they had attempted to disturb. The ecclesiastical governors of the Christians were taught to unite the wisdom of the serpent with the innocence of the dove; but as the former was reined, so the latter was insensibly corrupted, by the habits of government. In the church as well as in the world, the persons who were placed in any public station rendered themselves considerable by their eloquence and firmness, by their knowledge of mankind, and by their dexterity in business, and while they concealed from others, and perhaps from themselves, the secret motives of their conduct, they too frequently relapsed into all the turbulent passions of active life, which were tinctured with an additional degree of bitterness and obstinacy from the infusion of spiritual zeal.

The government of the church has often been the subject as well as the prize of religious contention. The hostile disputants of Rome, of Paris, of Oxford, and of Geneva, have alike struggled to reduce the primitive and apostolic model,[*] to the respective standards of their own policy. The few who have pursued this inquiry with more candour and impartiality, are of opinion, that the apostles declined the office of legislation, and rather chose to endure some partial scandals and divisions, than to exclude the Christians of a future age from the liberty of varying their forms of ecdesiastical government according to the changes of times and circumstances. The scheme of policy, which, under their approbation, was adopted for the use of the first century, may be discovered from the practice of Jerusalem, of Ephesus, or of Corinth. The societies which were instituted in the cities of the Roman empire, were united only by the ties of faith and charity. Independence and equality formed the basis of their internal constitution. The want of discipline and human learning was supplied by the occasional assistance of the prophets, who were called to that function without distinction of age, of sex, or of natural abilities, and who, as often as they felt the divine impulse, poured forth the effusions of the spirit in the assembly of the faithful. But these extraordinary gifts were frequently abused or misapplied by the prophetic teachers. They displayed them at an improper season, presumptuously disturbed the service of the assembly, and by their pride or mistaken zeal they introduced, particularly into the apostolic church of Corinth, a long and melancholy train of disorders. As the institution of prophets became useless, and even pernicious, their powers were withdrawn, and their office abolished. The public functions of religion were solely intrusted to the established ministers of the church, the bishops and the presbyters; two appellations which, in their first origin, appear to have distinguished the same office and the same order of persons. The name of Presbyter was expressive of their age, or rather of their gravity and wisdom. The title of Bishop denoted their inspection over the faith and manners of the Christians who were committed to their pastoral care. In proportion to the respective numbers of the faithful, a larger or smaller number of these episcopal presbyters guided each infant congregation with equal authority, and with united counsels.

But the most perfect equality of freedom requires the directing hand of a superior magistrate; and the order of public deliberations soon introduces the office of a president, invested at least with the authority of collecting the sentiments, and of executing the resolutions, of the assembly. A regard for the public tranquillity, which would so frequently have been interrupted by annual or by occasional elections, induced the primitive Christians to constitute an honourable and perpetual magistracy, and to choose one of the wisest and most holy among their presbyters to execute, during his life, the duties of their ecclesiastical governor. It was under these circumstances that the lofty title of Bishop began to raise itself above the humble appellation of presbyter; and while the latter remained the most natural distinction for the members of every Christian senate, the former was appropriated to the dignity of its new president. The advantages of this episcopal form of government, which appears to have been introduced before the end of the first century, were so obvious, and so important for the future greatness, as well as the present peace, of Christianity, that it was adopted without delay by all the societies which were already scattered over the empire, had acquired in a very early period the sanction of antiquity, and is still revered by the most powerful churches, both of the East and of the West, as a primitive and even as a divine establishment.[*] It is needless to observe, that the pious and humble presbyters, who were first dignified with the episcopal ritle, could not possess, and would probably have rejected, the power and pomp which now encircles the tiara of the Roman pontiff, or the mitre of a German prelate. But we may define, in a few words, the narrow limits of their original jurisdiction, which was chiefly of a spiritual, though in some instances of a temporal, nature. It consisted in the administration of the sacraments and discipline of the church, the superintendency of religious ceremonies, which imperceptibly increased in number and variety, the consecration of ecclesiastical ministers, to whom the bishop assigned their respective functions, the management of the public fund, and the determination of all such differences as the faithful were unwilling to expose before the tribunal of an idolatrous judge. These powers, during a short period, were exercised according to the advice of the presbyteral college, and with the consent and approbation of the assembly of Christians. The primitive bishops were considered only as the first of their equals, and the honourable servants of a free people. Whenever the episcopal chair became vacant by death, a new president was chosen among the presbyters by the suffrage of the whole congregation, every member of which supposed himself invested with a sacred and sacerdotal character.

Such was the mild and equal constitution by which the Christians were governed more than an hundred years after the death of the apostles. Every society formed within itself a separate and independent republic: and although the most distant of these little states maintained a mutual as well as friendly intercourse of letters and deputations, the Christian world was not yet connected by any supreme authority or legislative assembly. As the numbers of the faithful were gradually multiplied, they discovered the advantages that might result from a closer union of their interest and designs. Towards the end of the second century, the churches of Greece and Asia adopted the useful institutions of provincial synods, and they may justly be supposed to have borrowed the model of a representative council from the celebrated examples of their own country, the Amphictyons, the Achaean league, or the assemblies of the Ionian cities. It was soon established as a custom and as a law, that the bishops of the independent churches should meet in the capital of the province at the stated periods of spring and autumn. Their deliberations were assisted by the advice of a few distinguished presbyters, and moderated by the presence of a listening multitude. Their decrees, which were styled Canons, regulated every important controversy of faith and discipline; and it was natural to believe that a liberal effusion of the holy spirit would be poured on the united assembly of the delegates of the Christian people. The institution of synods was so well suited to private ambition and to public interest, that in the space of a few years it was received throughout the whole empire. A regular correspondence was established between the provincial councils, which mutually communicated and approved their respective proceedings; and the catholic church soon assumed the form, and acquired the strength, of a great foederative republic.

As the legislative authority of the particular churches was insensibly superseded by the use of councils, the bishops obtained by their alliance a much larger share of executive and arbitrary power; and as soon as they were connected by a sense of their common interest, they were enabled to attack, with united vigour, the original rights of their clergy and people. The prelates of the third century imperceptibly changed the language of exhortation into that of command, scattered the seeds of future usurpations, and supplied, by scripture allegories and declamatory rhetoric, their deficiency of force and of reason. They exalted the unity and power of the church, as it was represented in the EPISCOPAL OFFICE, of which every bishop enjoyed an equal and undivided portion. Princes and magistrates, it was often repeated, might boast an earthly claim to a transitory dominion: it was the episcopal authority alone which was derived from the deity, and extended itself over this and over another world. The bishops were the vicegerents of Christ, the successors of the apostles, and the mystic substitutes of the high priest of the Mosaic law. Their exclusive privilege of conferring the sacerdotal character, invaded the freedom both of clerical and of popular elections; and if, in the administration of the church, they still consulted the judgment of the presbyters, or the inclination of the people, they most carefully inculcated the merit of such a voluntary condescension. The bishops acknowledged the supreme authority which resided in the assembly of their brethren; but in the government of his peculiar diocese, each of them exacted from his flock the same implicit obedience as if that favourite metaphor had been literally just, and as if the shepherd had been of a more exalted nature than that of his sheep. This obedience, however, was not imposed without some efforts on one side, and some resistance on the other. The democratical part of the constitution was, in many places, very warmly supported by the zealous or interested opposition of the inferior clergy. But their patriotism received the ignominious epithets of faction and schism; and the episcopal cause was indebted for its rapid progress, to the labours of many active prelates, who, like Cyprian of Carthage, could reconcile the arts of the most ambitious statesman with the Christian virtues which seem adapted to the character of a saint and martyr.[*]

The same causes which at first had destroyed the equality of the presbyters, introduced among the bishops a pre-eminence of rank, and from thence a superiority of jurisdiction. As often as in the spring and autumn they met in provincial synod, the difference of personal merit and reputation was very sensibly felt among the members of the assembly, and the multitude was governed by the wisdom and eloquence of the few. But the order of public proceedings required a more regular and less invidious distinction; the office of perpetual presidents in the councils of each province, was conferred on the bishops of the principal city, and these aspiring prelates, who soon acquired the lofty titles of Metropolitans and Primates, secretly prepared themselves to usurp over their episcopal brethren the same authority which the bishops had so lately assumed above the college of presbyters. Nor was it long before an emulation of pre-eminence and power prevailed among the metropolitans themselves, each of them affecting to display, in the most pompous terms, the temporal honours and advantages of the city over which he presided; the numbers and opulence of the Christians, who were subject to their pastoral care; the saints and martyrs who had arisen among them, and the purity with which they preserved the tradition of the faith, as it had been transmitted through a series of orthodox bishops from the apostle of the apostolic disciple, to whom the foundation of their church was ascribed. From every cause either of a civil or of an ecclesiastical nature, it was easy to foresee that Rome must enjoy the respect, and would soon claim the obedience, of the provinces. The society of the faithful bore a just proportion to the capital of the empire; and the Roman church was the greatest, the most numerous, and, in regard to the West, the most ancient of all the Christian establishments, many of which had received their religion from the pious labours of her missionaries. Instead of one apostolic founder, the utmost boast of Antioch, of Ephesus, or of Corinth, the banks of the Tyber were supposed to have been honoured with the preaching and martyrdom of the two most eminent among the apostles; and the bishops of Rome very prudently claimed the inheritance of whatsoever prerogatives were attributed either to the person or to the office of St Peter.[*] The bishops of Italy and of the provinces were disposed to allow them a primacy of order and association (such was their very accurate expression) in the Christian aristocracy. But the power of a monarch was rejected with abhorrence, and the aspiring genius of Rome experienced from the nations of Asia and Africa, a more vigorous resistance to her spiritual, than she had formerly done to her temporal, dominion. The patriotic Cyprian, who ruled with the most absolute sway the church of Carthage and the provincial synods, opposed with resolution and success the ambition of the Roman pontiff, artfully connected his own cause with that of the eastern bishops, and, like Hannibal, sought out new allies in the heart of Asia. If this Punic war was carried on without any effusion of blood, it was owing much less to the moderation than to the weakness of the contending prelates. Invectives and excommunications were their only weapons; and these, during the progress of the whole controversy, they hurled against each other with equal fury and devotion. The hard necessity of censuring either a pope, or a saint and martyr, distresses the modern catholics, whenever they are obliged to relate the particulars of a dispute, in which the champions of religion indulged such passions as seem much more adapted to the senate or to the camp.

The progress of the ecclesiastical authority gave birth to the memorable distinction of the laity and of the clergy, which had been unknown to the Greeks and Romans. The former of these appellations comprehend the body of the Christian people; the latter, according to the signification of the word, was appropriated to the chosen portion that had been set apart for the service of religion; a celebrated order of men which has furnished the most important, though not always the most edifying, subjects for modern history. Their mutual hostilities sometimes disturbed the peace of the infant church, but their zeal and activity were united in the common cause, and the love of power, which (under the most artful disguises) could insinuate itself into the breasts of bishops and martyrs, animated them to increase the number of their subjects, and to enlarge the limits of the Christian empire. They were destitute of any temporal force, and they were for a long time discouraged and oppressed, rather than assisted, by the civil magistrate; but they had acquired, and they employed within their own society, the two most efficacious instruments of government, rewards and punishments; the former derived from the pious liberality, the latter from the devout apprehensions, of the faithful.

I. The community of goods, which had so agreeably amused the imagination of Plato, and which subsisted in some degree among the austere sect of the Essenians, was adopted for a short time in the primitive church. The fervour of the first proselytes prompted them to sell those worldly possessions, which they despised, to lay the price of them at the feet of the apostles, and to content themselves With receiving an equal share out of the general distribution. The progress of the Christian religion relaxed, and gradually abolished this generous institution, which, in hands less pure than those of the apostles, would too soon have been corrupted and abused by the returning selfishness of human nature; and the converts who embraced the new religion were permitted to retain the possession of their patrimony, to receive legacies and inheritances, and to increase their separate property by all the lawful means of trade and industry. Instead of an absolute sacrifice, a moderate proportion was accepted by the ministers of the gospel; and in their weekly or monthly assemblies, every believer, according to the exigency of the occasion, and the measure of his wealth and piety, presented his voluntary offering for the use of the common fund. Nothing, however inconsiderable, was refused; but it was diligently inculcated, that, in the article of Tythes, the Mosaic law was still of divine obligation; and that since the Jews, under a less perfect discipline, had been commanded to pay a tenth part of all that they possessed, it would become the disciples of Christ to distinguish themselves by a superior degree of liberality, and to acquire some merit by resigning a superfluous treasure, which must so soon be annihilated with the world itself. It is almost unnecessary to observe, that the revenue of each particular church, which was of so uncertain and fluctuating a nature, must have varied with the poverty or the opulence of the faithful, as they were dispersed in obscure villages, or collected in the great cities of the empire. In the time of the emperor Decius, it was the opinion of the magistrates, that the Christians of Rome were possessed of very considerable wealth; that vessels of gold and silver were used in their religious worship, and that many among their proselytes had sold their lands and houses to increase the public riches of the sect, at the expence, indeed, of their unfortunate children, who found themselves beggars, because their parents had been saints. We should listen with distrust to the suspicions of strangers and enemies: on this occasion, however, they receive a very specious and probable colour from the two following circumstances, the only ones that have reached our knowledge, which define any precise sums, or convey any distinct idea. Almost at the same period, the bishop of Carthage, from a society less opulent than that of Rome, collected an hundred thousand sesterces (above eight hundred and fifty pounds sterling) on a sudden call of charity to redeem the brethren of Numidia, who had been carried away captives by the barbarians of the desert. About an hundred years before the reign of Decius, the Roman church had received, in a single donation, the sum of two hundred thousand sesterces from a stranger of Pontus, who proposed to ix his residence in the capital. These oblations, for the most part, were made in money; nor was the society of Christians either desirous or capable of acquiring, to any considerable degree, the incumbrance of landed property. It had been provided by several laws, which were enacted with the same design as our statutes of mortmain, that no real estates should be given or bequeathed to any corporate body, without either a special privilege or a particular dispensation from the emperor or from the senate; who were seldom disposed to grant them in favour of a sect, at first the object of their contempt, and at last of their fears and jealousy. A transaction however is related under the reign of Alexander Severus, which discovers that the restraint was sometimes eluded or suspended, and that the Christians were permitted to claim and to possess lands within the limits of Rome itself. The progress of Christianity, and the civil confusion of the empire, contributed to relax the severity of the laws, and before the close of the third century many considerable estates were bestowed on the opulent churches of Rome, Milan, Carthage, Antioch, Alexandria, and the other great cities of Italy and the provinces.

The bishop was the natural steward of the church; the public stock was intrusted to his care without account or controul; the presbyters were confined to their spiritual functions, and the more dependent order of deacons was solely employed in the management and distribution of the ecclesiastical revenue. If we may give credit to the vehement declamations of Cyprian, there were too many among his African brethren, who, in the execution of their charge, violated every precept, not only of evangelic perfection, but even of moral virtue. By some of these unfaithful stewards the riches of the church were lavished in sensual pleasures, by others they were perverted to the purposes of private gain, of fraudulent purchases, and of rapacious usury. But as long as the contributions of the Christian people were free and unconstrained, the abuse of their confidence could not be very frequent, and the general uses to which their liberality was applied, reflected honour on the religious society. A decent portion was reserved for the maintenance of the bishop and his clergy; a sufficient sum was allotted for the expences of the public worship, of which the feasts of love, the agapæ, as they were called, constituted a very pleasing part. The whole remainder was the sacred patrimony of the poor. According to the discretion of the bishop, it was distributed to support widows and orphans, the lame, the sick, and the aged of the community; to comfort strangers and pilgrims, and to alleviate the misfortunes of prisoners and captives, more especially when their sufferings had been occasioned by their firm attachment to the cause of religion. A generous intercourse of charity united the most distant provinces, and the smaller congregations were cheerfully assisted by the alms of their more opulent brethren. Such an institution, which paid less regard to the merit than to the distress of the object, very materially conduced to the progress of Christianity. The Pagans, who were actuated by a sense of humanity, while they derided the doctrines, acknowledged the benevolence of the new sect. The prospect of immediate relief and of future protection allured into its hospitable bosom many of those unhappy persons whom the neglect of the world would have abandoned to the miseries of want, of sickness, and of old age. There is some reason likewise to believe, that great numbers of infants, who, according to the inhuman practice of the times, had been exposed by their parents, were frequently rescued from death, baptised, educated, and maintained by the piety of the Christians, and at the expence of the public treasure.[*]

II. It is the undoubted right of every society to exclude from its communion and benefits, such among its members as reject or violate those regulations which have been established by general consent. In the exercise of this power, the censures of the Christian church were chiefly directed against scandalous sinners, and particularly those who were guilty of murder, of fraud, or of incontinence; against the authors, or the followers of any heretical opinions which had been condemned by the judgment of the episcopal order; and against those unhappy persons, who, whether from choice or from compulsion, had polluted themselves after their baptism by any act of idolatrous worship. The consequences of excommunication were of a temporal as well as a spiritual nature. The Christian against whom it was pronounced, was deprived of any part in the oblations of the faithful. The ties both of religious and of private friendship were dissolved: he found himself a profane object of abhorrence to the persons whom he the most esteemed, or by whom he had been the most tenderly beloved; and as far as an expulsion from a respectable society could imprint on his character a mark of disgrace, he was shunned or suspected by the generality of mankind. The situation of these unfortunate exiles was in itself very painful and melancholy; but, as it usually happens, their apprehensions far exceeded their sufferings. The benefits of the Christian communion were those of eternal life, nor could they erase from their minds the awful opinion, that to those ecclesiastical governors by whom they were condemned, the Deity had committed the keys of Hell and of Paradise. The heretics, indeed, who might be supported by the consciousness of their intentions, and by the flattering hope that they alone had discovered the true path of salvation, endeavoured to regain, in their separate assemblies, those comforts, temporal as well as spiritual, which they no longer derived from the great society of Christians. But almost all those who had reluctantly yielded to the power of vice or idolatry, were sensible of their fallen condition, and anxiously desirous of being restored to the benefits of the Christian communion.

With regard to the treatment of these penitents two opposite opinions, the one of justice, the other of mercy, divided the primitive church. The more rigid and inflexible casuists refused them for ever, and without exception, the meanest place in the holy community, which they had disgraced or deserted, and leaving them to the remorse of a guilty conscience, indulged them only with a faint ray of hope, that the contrition of their life and death might possibly be accepted by the Supreme Being. A milder sentiment was embraced in practice as well as in theory, by the purest and most respectable of the Christian churches. The gates of reconciliation and of Heaven were seldom shut against the returning penitent; but a severe and solemn form of discipline was instituted, which, while it served to expiate his crime, might powerfully deter the spectators from the imitation of his example. Humbled by a public confession, emaciated by fasting, and clothed in sackcloth, the penitent lay prostrate at the door of the assembly, imploring with tears the pardon of his offences, and soliciting the prayers of the faithful. If the fault was of a very heinous nature, whole years of penance were esteemed an inadequate satisfaction to the Divine Justice; and it was always by slow and painful gradations that the sinner, the heretic, or the apostate, was re-admitted into the bosom of the church. A sentence of perpetual excommunication was, however, reserved for some crimes of an extraordinary magnitude, and particularly for the inexcusable relapses of those penitents who had already experienced and abused the clemency of their ecclesiastical superiors. According to the circumstances or the number of the guilty, the exercise of the Christian discipline was varied by the discretion of the bishops. The councils of Ancyra and Illiberis were held about the same time, the one in Galatia, the other in Spain; but their respective canons, which are still extant, seem to breathe a very different spirit. The Galatian, who after his baptism had repeatedly sacrificed to idols, might obtain his pardon by a penance of seven years, and if he had seduced others to imitate his example, only three years more were added to the term of his exile. But the unhappy Spaniard, who had committed the same offence, was deprived of the hope of reconciliation, even in the article of death; and his idolatry was placed at the head of a list of seventeen other crimes, against which a sentence no less terrible was pronounced. Among these we may distinguish the inexpiable guilt of calumniating a bishop, a presbyter, or even a deacon.

The well-tempered mixture of liberality and rigour, the judicious dispensation of rewards and punishments, according to the maxims of policy as well as justice, constituted the human strength of the church. The bishops, whose paternal care extended itself to the government of both worlds, were sensible of the importance of these prerogatives, and covering their ambition with the fair pretence of the love of order, they were jealous of any rival in the exercise of a discipline so necessary to prevent the desertion of those troops which had inlisted themselves under the banner of the cross, and whose numbers every day became more considerable. From the imperious declamations of Cyprian, we should naturally conclude, that the doctrines of excommunication and penance formed the most essential part of religion; and that it was much less dangerous for the disciples of Christ to neglect the observance of the moral duties, than to despise the censures and authority of their bishops. Sometimes we might imagine that we were listening to the voice of Moses, when he commanded the earth to open, and to swallow up, in consuming lames, the rebellious race which refused obedience to the priesthood of Aaron; and we should sometimes suppose that we heard a Roman consul asserting the majesty of the republic, and declaring his inflexible resolution to enforce the rigour of the laws. 'If such irregularities are suffered with impunity (it is thus that the bishop of Carthage chides the lenity of his colleague), if such irregularities are suffered, there is an end of EPISCOPAL VIGOUR; an end of the sublime and divine power of governing the church, an end of Christianity itself.' Cyprian had renounced those temporal honours, which it is probable he would never have obtained; but the acquisition of such absolute command over the consciences and understanding of a congregation, however obscure or despised by the world, is more truly grateful to the pride of the human heart, than the possession of the most despotic power, imposed by arms and conquest on a reluctant people.

In the course of this important, though perhaps tedious, inquiry, I have attempted to display the secondary causes which so efficaciously assisted the truth of the Christian religion. If among these causes we have discovered any artificial ornaments, any accidental circumstances, or any mixture of error and passion, it cannot appear surprising that mankind should be the most sensibly affected by such motives as were suited to their imperfect nature. It was by the aid of these causes, exclusive zeal, the immediate expectation of another world, the claim of miracles, the practice of rigid virtue, and the constitution of the primitive church, that Christianity spread itself with so much success in the Roman empire. To the first of these the Christians were indebted for their invincible valour, which disdained to capitulate with the enemy whom they were resolved to vanquish. The three succeeding causes supplied their valour with the most formidable arms. The last of these causes united their courage, directed their arms, and gave their efforts that irresistible weight, which even a small band of well-trained and intrepid volunteers has so often possessed over an undisciplined multitude, ignorant of the subject, and careless of the event of the war. In the various religions of Polytheism, some wandering fanatics of Egypt and Syria, who addressed themselves to the credulous superstition of the populace, were perhaps the only order of priests[*] that derived their whole support and credit from their sacerdotal profession, and were very deeply affected by a personal concern for the safety or prosperity of their tutelar deities. The ministers of polytheism, both in Rome and in the provinces, were, for the most part, men of a noble birth, and of an affluent fortune, who received, as an honourable distinction, the care of a celebrated temple, or of a public sacrifice, exhibited, very frequently at their own expence, the sacred games,[*] and with cold indifference performed the ancient rites, according to the laws and fashion of their country. As they were engaged in the ordinary occupations of life, their zeal and devotion were seldom animated by a sense of interest, or by the habits of an ecclesiastical character. Confined to their respective temples and cities, they remained without any connexion of discipline or government; and whilst they acknowledged the supreme jurisdiction of the senate, of the college of pontiffs, and of the emperor, those civil magistrates contented themselves with the easy task of maintaining, in peace and dignity, the general worship of mankind. We have already seen how various, how loose, and how uncertain were the religious sentiments of Polytheists. They were abandoned, almost without controul, to the natural workings of a superstitious fancy. The accidental circumstances of their life and situation determined the object as well as the degree of their devotion; and as long as their adoration was successively prostituted to a thousand deities, it was scarcely possible that their hearts could be susceptible of a very sincere or lively passion for any of them.

When Christianity appeared in the world, even these faint and imperfect impressions had lost much of their original power. Human reason, which by its unassisted strength is incapable of perceiving the mysteries of faith, had already obtained an easy triumph over the folly of Paganism; and when Tertullian or Lactantius employ their labours in exposing its falsehood and extravagance, they are obliged to transcribe the eloquence of Cicero or the wit of Lucian. The contagion of these sceptical writings had been diffused far beyond the number of their readers. The fashion of incredulity was communicated from the philosopher to the man of pleasure or business, from the noble to the plebeian, and from the master to the menial slave who waited at his table, and who eagerly listened to the freedom of his conversation. On public occasions the philosophic part of mankind affected to treat with respect and decency the religious institutions of their country; but their secret contempt penetrated through the thin and awkward disguise, and even the people, when they discovered that their deities were rejected and derided by those whose rank or understanding they were accustomed to reverence, were filled with doubts and apprehensions concerning the truth of those doctrines, to which they had yielded the most implicit belief. The decline of ancient prejudice exposed a very numerous portion of human kind to the danger of a painful and comfortless situation. A state of scepticism and suspense may amuse a few inquisitive minds. But the practice of superstition is so congenial to the multitude, that if they are forcibly awakened, they still regret the loss of their pleasing vision. Their love of the marvellous and supernatural, their curiosity with regard to future events, and their strong propensity to extend their hopes and fears beyond the limits of the visible world, were the principal causes which favoured the establishment of Polytheism. So urgent on the vulgar is the necessity of believing, that the fall of any system of mythology will most probably be succeeded by the introduction of some other mode of superstition. Some deities of a more recent and fashionable cast might soon have occupied the deserted temples of Jupiter and Apollo, if, in the decisive moment, the wisdom of Providence had not interposed a genuine revelation, fitted to inspire the most rational esteem and conviction, whilst, at the same time, it was adorned with all that could attract the curiosity, the wonder, and the veneration of the people. In their actual disposition, as many were almost disengaged from their artificial prejudices, but equally susceptible and desirous of a devout attachment; an object much less deserving would have been sufficient to ill the vacant place in their hearts, and to gratify the uncertain eagerness of their passions. Those who are inclined to pursue this reflection, instead of viewing with astonishment the rapid progress of Christianity, will perhaps be surprised that its success was not still more rapid and still more universal.

It has been observed, with truth as well as propriety, that the conquests of Rome prepared and facilitated those of Christianity. In the second chapter of this work we have attempted to explain in what manner the most civilized provinces of Europe, Asia, and Africa, were united under the dominion of one sovereign, and gradually connected by the most intimate ties of laws, of manners, and of language. The Jews of palestine, who had fondly expected a temporal deliverer, gave so cold a reception to the miracles of the divine prophet, that it was found unnecessary to publish, or at least to preserve, any Hebrew gospel.[*] The authentic histories of the actions of Christ were composed in the Greek language, at a considerable distance from Jerusalem, and after the Gentile converts were grown extremely numerous. As soon as those histories were translated into the Latin tongue, they were perfectly intelligible to all the subjects of Rome, excepting only to the peasants of Syria and Egypt, for whose benefit particular versions were afterwards made. The public highways, which had been constructed for the use of the legions, opened an easy passage for the Christian missionaries from Damascus to Corinth, and from Italy to the extremity of Spain or Britain; nor did those spiritual conquerors encounter any of the obstacles which usually retard or prevent the introduction of a foreign religion into a distant country. There is the strongest reason to believe, that before the reigns of Diocletian and Constantine, the faith of Christ had been preached in every province, and in all the great cities of the empire; but the foundation of the several congregations, the numbers of the faithful who composed them, and their proportion to the unbelieving multitude, are now buried in obscurity, or disguised by fiction and declamation. Such imperfect circumstances, however, as have reached our knowledge concerning the increase of the Christian name in Asia and Greece, in Egypt, in Italy, and in the West, we shall now proceed to relate, without neglecting the real or imaginary acquisitions which lay beyond the frontiers of the Roman empire.

The rich provinces that extend from the Euphrates to the Ionian sea, were the principal theatre on which the apostle of the Gentiles displayed his zeal and piety. The seeds of the gospel, which he had scattered in a fertile soil, were diligently cultivated by his disciples; and it should seem that, during the two first centuries, the most considerable body of Christians was contained within those limits. Among the societies which were instituted in Syria, none were more ancient or more illustrious than those of Damascus, of Berea or Aleppo, and of Antioch. The prophetic introduction of the Apocalypse has described and immortalized the seven churches of Asia; Ephesus, Smyma, Pergamus, Thyatira, Sardes, Laodicea, and Philadelphia; and their colonies were soon diffused over that populous country. In a very early period, the islands of Cyprus and Crete, the provinces of Thrace and Macedonia, gave a favourable reception to the new religion; and Christian republics were soon founded in the cities of Corinth, of Sparta, and of Athens. The antiquity of the Greek and Asiatic churches allowed a sufficient space of time for their increase and multiplication, and even the swarms of Gnostics and other heretics serve to display the flourishing condition of the orthodox church, since the appellation of heretics has always been applied to the less numerous party. To these domestic testimonies we may add the confession, the complaints, and the apprehensions of the Gentiles themselves. From the writings of Lucian, a philosopher who had studied mankind, and who describes their manners in the most lively colours, we may learn, that, under the reign of Commodus, his native country of Pontus was filled with Epicureans and Christians. Within fourscore years after the death of Christ, the humane Pliny laments the magnitude of the evil which he vainly attempted to eradicate. In his very curious epistle to the emperor Trajan, he affirms, that the temples were almost deserted, that the sacred victims scarcely found any purchasers, and that the superstition had not only infected the cities, but had even spread itself into the villages and the open country of Pontus and Bithynia.

Without descending into a minute scrutiny of the expressions, or of the motives of those writers who either celebrate or lament the progress of Christianity in the East, it may in general be observed, that none of them have let us any grounds from whence a just estimate might be formed of the real numbers of the faithful in those provinces. One circumstance, however, has been fortunately preserved, which seems to cast a more distinct light on this obscure but interesting subject. Under the reign of Theodosius, after Christianity had enjoyed, during more than sixty years, the sunshine of Imperial favour, the ancient and illustrious church of Antioch consisted of one hundred thousand persons, three thousand of whom were supported out of the public oblations. The splendour and dignity of the queen of the East, the acknowledged populousness of Cæsarea, Seleucia, and Alexandria, and the destruction of two hundred and fifty thousand souls in the earthquake which afflicted Antioch under the elder Justin, are so many convincing proofs that the whole number of its inhabitants was not less than half a million, and that the Christians, however multiplied by zeal and power, did not exceed a fifth part of that great city. How different a proportion must we adopt when we compare the persecuted with the triumphant church, the West with the East, remote villages with populous towns, and countries recently converted to the faith, with the place where the believers first received the appellation of Christians! It must not, however, be dissembled, that, in another passage, Chrysostom, to whom we are indebted for this useful information, computes the multitude of the faithful as even superior to that of the Jews and Pagans. But the solution of this apparent difficulty is easy and obvious. The eloquent preacher draws a parallel between the civil and the ecclesiastical constitution of Antioch; between the list of Christians who had acquired Heaven by baptism, and the list of citizens who had a right to share the public liberality. Slaves, strangers, and infants were comprised in the former; they were excluded from the latter.

The extensive commerce of Alexandria, and its proximity to Palestine, gave an easy entrance to the new religion. It was at first embraced by great numbers of the Therapeutæ, or Essenians of the lake Mareotis, a Jewish sect which had abated much of its reverence for the Mosaic ceremonies. The austere life of the Essenians, their fasts and excommunications, the community of goods, the love of celibacy, their zeal for martyrdom, and the warmth though not the purity of their faith, already offered a very lively image of the primitive discipline. It was in the school of Alexandria that the Christian theology appears to have assumed a regular and scientifical form; and when Hadrian visited Egypt, he found a church composed of Jews and of Greeks, sufficiently important to attract the notice of that inquisitive prince. But the progress of Christianity was for a long time confined within the limits of a single city, which was itself a foreign colony, and till the close of the second century the predecessors of Demetrius were the only prelates of the Egyptian church. Three bishops were consecrated by the hands of Demetrius, and the number was increased to twenty by his successor Heraclas. The body of the natives, a people distinguished by a sullen inflexibility of temper, entertained the new doctrine with coldness and reluctance: and even in the time of Origen, it was rare to meet with an Egyptian who had surmounted his early prejudices in favour of the sacred animals of his country. As soon, indeed, as Christianity ascended the throne, the zeal of those barbarians obeyed the prevailing impulsion; the cities of Egypt were filled with bishops, and the deserts of Thebais swarmed with hermits.

A perpetual stream of strangers and provincials flowed into the capacious bosom of Rome. Whatever was strange or odious, whoever was guilty or suspected, might hope, in the obscurity of that immense capital, to elude the vigilance of the law. In such a various conflux of nations, every teacher, either of truth or of falsehood, every founder, whether of a virtuous or a criminal association, might easily multiply his disciples or accomplices. The Christians of Rome, at the time of the accidental persecution of Nero, are represented by Tacitus as already amounting to a very great multitude, and the language of that great historian is almost similar to the style employed by Livy, when he relates the introduction and the suppression of the rites of Bacchus. After the Bacchanals had awakened the severity of the senate, it was likewise apprehended that a very great multitude, as it were another people, had been initiated into those abhorred mysteries. A more careful inquiry soon demonstrated, that the offenders did not exceed seven thousand; a number indeed sufficiently alarming, when considered as the object of public justice.[*] It is with the same candid allowance that we should interpret the vague expressions of Tacitus, and in a former instance of Pliny, when they exaggerate the crowds of deluded fanatics who had forsaken the established worship of the gods. The church of Rome was undoubtedly the first and most populous of the empire; and we are possessed of an authentic record which attests the state of religion in that city about the middle of the third century, and after a peace of thirty-eight years. The clergy, at that time, consisted of a bishop, forty-six presbyters, seven deacons, as many sub-deacons, forty-two acolythes, and fifty readers, exorcists, and porters. The number of widows, of the infirm, and of the poor, who were maintained by the oblations of the faithful, amounted to fifteen hundred. From reason, as well as from the analogy of Antioch, we may venture to estimate the Christians of Rome at about fifty thousand. The populousness of that great capital cannot perhaps be exactly ascertained; but the most modest calculation will not surely reduce it lower than a million of inhabitants, of whom the Christians might constitute at the most a twentieth part.

The western provincials appeared to have derived the knowledge of Christianity from the same source which had diffused among them the language, the sentiments, and the manners of Rome. In this more important circumstance, Africa, as well as Gaul, was gradually fashioned to the imitation of the capital. Yet notwithstanding the many favourable occasions which might invite the Roman missionaries to visit their Latin provinces, it was late before they passed either the sea or the Alps; nor can we discover in those great countries any assured traces either of faith or of persecution that ascend higher than the reign of the Antonines. The slow progress of the gospel in the cold climate of Gaul, was extremely different from the eagerness with which it seems to have been received on the burning sands of Africa. The African Christians soon formed one of the principal members of the primitive church. The practice introduced into that province, of appointing bishops to the most inconsiderable towns, and very frequently to the most obscure villages, contributed to multiply the splendour and importance of their religious societies, which during the course of the third century were animated by the zeal of Tertullian, directed by the abilities of Cyprian, and adorned by the eloquence of Lactantius. But if, on the contrary, we turn our eyes towards Gaul, we must content ourselves with discovering, in the time of Marcus Antoninus, the feeble and united congregations of Lyons and Vienna; and even as late as the reign of Decius, we are assured, that in a few cities only, Aries, Narbonne, Thoulouse, Limoges, Clermont, Tours, and Paris, some scattered churches were supported by the devotion of a small number of Christians. Silence is indeed very consistent with devotion, but as it is seldom compatible with zeal, we may perceive and lament the languid state of Christianity in those provinces which had exchanged the Celtic for the Latin tongue; since they did not, during the three first centuries, give birth to a single ecclesiastical writer. From Gaul, which claimed a just pre-eminence of learning and authority over all the countries on this side of the Alps, the light of the gospel was more faintly reflected on the remote provinces of Spain and Britain; and if we may credit the vehement assertions of Tertullian, they had already received the first rays of the faith, when he addressed his apology to the magistrates of the emperor Severus. But the obscure and imperfect origin of the western churches of Europe has been so negligently recorded, that if we would relate the time and manner of their foundation, we must supply the silence of antiquity by those legends which avarice or superstition long afterwards dictated to the monks in the lazy gloom of their convents.[*] Of these holy romances, that of the apostle St James can alone, by its singular extravagance, deserve to be mentioned. From a peaceful fisherman of the lake of Gennesareth, he was transformed into a valorous knight, who charged at the head of the Spanish chivalry in their battles against the Moors. The gravest historians have celebrated his exploits; the miraculous shrine of Compostella displayed his power; and the sword of a military order, assisted by the terrors of the Inquisition, was sufficient to remove every objection of profane criticism.[†]

The progress of Christianity was not confined to the Roman empire; and according to the primitive fathers, who interpret facts by prophecy, the new religion, within a century after the death of its divine author, had already visited every part of the globe. 'There exists not,' says Justin Martyr, 'a people, whether Greek or Barbarian, of any other race of men, by whatsoever appellation or manners they may be distinguished, however ignorant of arts or agriculture, whether they dwell under tents, or wander about in covered waggons, among whom prayers are not offered up in the name of a crucified Jesus to the Father and Creator of all things.' But this splendid exaggeration, which even at present it would be extremely difficult to reconcile with the real state of mankind, can be considered only as the rash sally of a devout but careless writer, the measure of whose belief was regulated by that of his wishes. But neither the belief, nor the wishes of the fathers, can alter the truth of history. It will still remain an undoubted fact, that the barbarians of Scythia and Germany, who afterwards subverted the Roman monarchy, were involved in the darkness of paganism; and that even the conversion of Iberia, of Armenia, or of Æthiopia, was not attempted with any degree of success till the sceptre was in the hands of an orthodox emperor. Before that time, the various accidents of war and commerce might indeed diffuse an imperfect knowledge of the gospel among the tribes of Caledonia,[*] and among the borderers of the Rhine, the Danube, and the Euphrates.[†] Beyond the last-mentioned river, Edessa was distinguished by a firm and early adherence to the faith. From Edessa, the principles of Christianity were easily introduced into the Greek and Syrian cities which obeyed the successors of Artaxerxes; but they do not appear to have made any deep impression on the minds of the Persians, whose religious system, by the labours of a well-disciplined order of priests, had been constructed with much more art and solidity than the uncertain mythology of Greece and Rome.

From this impartial though imperfect survey of the progress of Christianity, it may perhaps seem probable, that the number of its proselytes has been excessively magnified by fear on the one side, and by devotion on the other. According to the irreproachable testimony of Origen, the proportion of the faithful was very inconsiderable when compared with the multitude of an unbelieving world; but, as we are let without any distinct information, it is impossible to determine, and it is difficult even to conjecture, the real numbers of the primitive Christians. The most favourable calculation, however, that can be deduced from the examples of Antioch and of Rome, will not permit us to imagine that more than a twentieth part of the subjects of the Empire had enlisted themselves under the banner of the cross before the important conversion of Constantine. But their habits of faith, of zeal, and of union, seemed to multiply their numbers; and the same causes which contributed to their future increase, served to render their actual strength more apparent and more formidable.

Such is the constitution of civil society, that whilst a few persons are distinguished by riches, by honours, and by knowledge, the body of the people is condemned to obscurity, ignorance, and poverty. The Christian religion, which addressed itself to the whole human race, must consequently collect a far greater number of proselytes from the lower than from the superior ranks of life. This innocent and natural circumstance has been improved into a very odious imputation, which seems to be less strenuously denied by the apologists, than it is urged by the adversaries, of the faith; that the new sect of Christians was almost entirely composed of the dregs of the populace, of peasants and mechanics, of boys and women, of beggars and slaves, the last of whom might sometimes introduce the missionaries into the rich and noble families to which they belonged. These obscure teachers (such was the charge of malice and infidelity) are as mute in public as they are loquacious and dogmatical in private. Whilst they cautiously avoid the dangerous encounter of philosophers, they mingle with the rude and illiterate crowd, and insinuate themselves into those minds, whom their age, their sex, or their education, has the best disposed to receive the impression of superstitious terrors.

This unfavourable picture, though not devoid of a faint resemblance, betrays, by its dark colouring and distorted features, the pencil of an enemy. As the humble faith of Christ diffused itself through the world, it was embraced by several persons who derived some consequence from the advantages of nature or fortune. Aristides, who presented an eloquent apology to the emperor Hadrian, was an Athenian philosopher. Justin Martyr had sought divine knowledge in the schools of Zeno, of Aristotle, of Pythagoras, and of Plato, before he fortunately was accosted by the old man, or rather the angel, who turned his attention to the study of the Jewish prophets. Clemens of Alexandria had acquired much various reading in the Greek, and Tertullian in the Latin, language. Julius Africanus and Origen possessed a very considerable share of the learning of their times; and although the style of Cyprian is very different from that of Lactantius, we might almost discover that both those writers had been public teachers of rhetoric. Even the study of philosophy was at length introduced among the Christians, but it was not always productive of the most salutary effects; knowledge was as often the parent of heresy as of devotion, and the description which was designed for the followers of Artemon, may, with equal propriety, be applied to the various sects that resisted the successors of the apostles. 'They presume to alter the holy scriptures, to abandon the ancient rule of faith, and to form their opinions according to the subtile precepts of logic. The science of the church is neglected for the study of geometry, and they lose sight of Heaven while they are employed in measuring the earth. Euclid is perpetually in their hands. Aristotle and Theophrastus are the objects of their admiration; and they express an uncommon reverence for the works of Galen. Their errors are derived from the abuse of the arts and sciences of the infidels, and they corrupt the simplicity of the gospel by the reinements of human reason.'[*]

Nor can it be affamaed with truth, that the advantages of birth and fortune were always separated from the profession of Christianity. Several Roman citizens were brought before the tribunal of Pliny, and he soon discovered, that a great number of persons of every order of men in Bithynia had deserted the religion of their ancestors. His unsuspected testimony may, in this instance, obtain more credit than the bold challenge of Tertullian, when he addresses himself to the fears as well as to the humanity of the proconsul of Africa, by assuring him, that if he persists in his cruel intentions, he must decimate Carthage, and that he will find among the guilty many persons of his own rank, senators and matrons of noblest extraction, and the friends or relations of his most intimate friends. It appears, however, that about forty years afterwards the emperor Valerian was persuaded of the truth of this assertion, since in one of his rescripts he evidently supposes, that senators, Roman knights, and ladies of quality, were engaged in the Christian sect. The church still continued to encrease its outward splendour as it lost its internal purity; and, in the reign of Diocletian, the palace, the courts of justice, and even the army, concealed a multitude of Christians, who endeavoured to reconcile the interests of the present, with those of a future, life.

And yet these exceptions are either too few in number, or too recent in time, entirely to remove the imputation of ignorance and obscurity which has been so arrogantly cast on the first proselytes of Christianity. Instead of employing in our defence the fictions of later ages, it will be more prudent to convert the occasion of scandal into a subject of edification. Our serious thoughts will suggest to us, that the apostles themselves were chosen by providence among the fishermen of Galilee, and that the lower we depress the temporal condition of the first Christians, the more reason we shall find to admire their merit and success. It is incumbent on us diligently to remember, that the kingdom of Heaven was promised to the poor in spirit, and that minds afflicted by calamity and the contempt of mankind, cheerfully listen to the divine promise of future happiness; while, on the contrary, the fortunate are satisfied with the possession of this world; and the wise abuse in doubt and dispute their vain superiority of reason and knowledge.

We stand in need of such reflections to comfort us for the loss of some illustrious characters, which in our eyes might have seemed the most worthy of the heavenly present. The names of Seneca, of the elder and the younger Pliny, of Tacitus, of Plutarch, of Galen, of the slave Epictetus, and of the emperor Marcus Antoninus, adorn the age in which they flourished,' and exalt the dignity of human nature. They filled with glory their respective stations, either in active or contemplative life; their excellent understandings were improved by study; Philosophy had purified their minds from the prejudices of the popular superstition; and their days were spent in the pursuit of truth and the practice of virtue. Yet all these sages (it is no less an object of surprise than of concern) overlooked or rejected the perfection of the Christian system. Their language or their silence equally discover their contempt for the growing sect, which in their time had diffused itself over the Roman empire. Those among them who condescend to mention the Christians, consider them only as obstinate and perverse enthusiasts, who exacted an implicit submission to their mysterious doctrines, without being able to produce a single argument that could engage the attention of men of sense and learning.

It is at least doubtful whether any of these philosophers perused the apologies which the primitive Christians repeatedly published in behalf of themselves and of their religion; but it is much to be lamented that such a cause was not defended by abler advocates. They expose with superfluous wit and eloquence, the extravagance of Polytheism. They interest our compassion by displaying the innocence and sufferings of their injured brethren. But when they would demonstrate the divine origin of Christianity, they insist much more strongly on the predictions which announced, than on the miracles which accompanied, the appearance of the Messiah. Their favourite argument might serve to edify a Christian or to convert a Jew, since both the one and the other acknowledge the authority of those prophecies, and both are obliged, with devout reverence, to search for their sense and their accomplishment. But this mode of persuasion loses much of its weight and influence, when it is addressed to those who neither understand nor respect the Mosaic dispensation and the prophetic style. In the unskilful hands of Justin and of the succeeding apologists, the sublime meaning of the Hebrew oracles evaporates in distant types, affected conceits, and cold allegories; and even their authenticity was rendered suspicious to an unenlightened Gentile, by the mixture of pious forgeries, which, under the names of Orpheus, Hermes, and the Sibyls,[*] were obtruded on him as of equal value with the genuine inspirations of Heaven. The adoption of fraud and sophistry in the defence of revelation, too often reminds us of the injudicious conduct of those poets who load their invulnerable heroes with a useless weight of cumbersome and brittle armour.

But how shall we excuse the supine inattention of the Pagan and philosophic world, to those evidences which were presented by the hand of Omnipotence, not to their reason, but to their senses? During the age of Christ, of his apostles, and of their first disciples, the doctrine which they preached was confirmed by innumerable prodigies. The lame walked, the blind saw, the sick were healed, the dead were raised, daemons were expelled, and the laws of Nature were frequently suspended for the benefit of the church. But the sages of Greece and Rome turned aside from the awful spectacle, and pursuing the ordinary occupations of life and study, appeared unconscious of any alterations in the moral or physical government of the world. Under the reign of Tiberius, the whole earth,[†] or at least a celebrated province of the Roman empire,[‡] was involved in a præternatural darkness of three hours. Even this miraculous event, which ought to have excited the wonder, the curiosity, and the devotion of mankind, passed without notice in an age of science and history. It happened during the lifetime of Seneca and the elder Pliny, who must have experienced the immediate effects, or received the earliest intelligence, of the prodigy. Each of these philosophers, in a laborious work, has recorded all the great phenomena of Nature, earthquakes, meteors, comets, and eclipses, which his indefatigable curiosity could collect. Both the one and the other have omitted to mention the greatest phenomenon to which the mortal eye has been witness since the creation of the globe. A distinct chapter of Pliny is designed for eclipses of an extraordinary nature and unusual duration; but he contents himself with describing the singular defect of light which followed the murder of Cæsar, when, during the greatest part of a year, the orb of the sun appeared pale and without splendour. This season of obscurity, which cannot surely be compared with the præternatural darkness of the Passion, had been already celebrated by most of the poets and historians of that memorable age.

* A Jewish sect, which indulged themselves in a sort of occasional conformity, derived from Herod, by whose example and authority they had been seduced, the name of Herodians. But their numbers were so inconsiderable, and their duration so short, that Josephus has not thought them worthy of his notice.

† Philo and Josephus gave a very circumstantial, but a very rhetorical, account of this transaction, which exceedingly perplexed the governor of Syria. At the first mention of this idolatrous proposal, King Agrippa fainted away; and did not recover his senses till the third day.

*  'How long will this people provoke me? and how long will it be ere they believe me, for all the signs which I have shewn among them?' (Numbers xiv. II.) It would be easy, but it would be unbecoming, to justify the complaint of the Deity from the whole tenor of the Mosaic history.

*  During this occasional absence, the bishop and church of Pella still retained the title of Jerusalem. In the same manner, the Roman pontiffs resided seventy years at Avignon; and the patriarchs of Alexandria have long since transferred their episcopal seat to Cairo.

*  Of all the systems of Christianity, that of Abyssinia is the only one which still adheres to the Mosaic rites. The eunuch of the queen Candace might suggest some suspicions; but as we are assured that the Æthiopians were not converted till the fourth century; it is more reasonable to believe, that they respected the Sabbath, and distinguished the forbidden meats, in imitation of the Jews, who, in a very early period, were seated on both sides of the Red Sea. Circumcision had been practised by the most ancient Æthiopians, from motives of health and cleanliness.

*  The milder Gnostics considered Jehovah, the Creator, as a Being of a mixed nature between God and the Daemon. Others confounded him with the evil principle. Consult the second century of the general history of Mosheim, which gives a very distinct, though concise, account of their strange opinions on this subject.

*  Augustin is a memorable instance of this gradual progress from reason to faith. He was, during several years, engaged in the Manichæan sect.

*  Tertullian alleges the confession of the Daemons themselves as often as they were tormented by the Christian exorcists.

*  The Roman senate was always held in a temple or consecrated place. Before they entered on business, every senator dropt some wine and frankincense on the altar.

† The ancient practice of concluding the entertainment with libations, may be found in every classic. Socrates and Seneca, in their last moments, made a noble application of this custom.

*  Even the reverses of the Greek and Roman coins were frequently of an idolatrous nature. Here indeed the scruples of the Christian were suspended by a stronger passion.

† If a Pagan friend (on the occasion perhaps of sneezing) used the familiar expression of 'Jupiter bless you,' the Christian was obliged to protest against the divinity of Jupiter.

*  The xith book of the Odyssey gives a very dreary and incoherent account of the infernal shades. Pindar and Virgil have embellished the picture; but even those poets, though more correct than their great model, are guilty of very strange inconsistencies.

*  This expectation was countenanced by the twenty-fourth chapter of St Matthew, and by the first epistle of St Paul to the Thessalonians. Erasmus removes the difficulty by the help of allegory and metaphor; and the learned Grotius ventures to insinuate, that, for wise purposes, the pious deception was permitted to take place.

*  In the council of Laodicea (about the year 360) the Apocalypse was tacitly excluded from the sacred canon, by the same churches of Asia to which it is addressed; and we may learn from the complaint of Sulpicius Severus, that their sentence had been ratified by the greater number of Christians of his time. From what causes then is the Apocalypse at present so generally received by the Greek, the Roman, and the Protestant churches? The following ones may be assigned. 1. The Greeks were subdued by the authority of an impostor, who, in the sixth century, assumed the character of Dionysius the Areopagite. 2. A just apprehension, that the grammarians might become more important than the theologians, engaged the council of Trent to fix the seal of their infallibility on all the books of Scripture, contained in the Latin Vulgate, in the number of which the Apocalypse was fortunately included. 3. The advantage of turning those mysterious prophecies against the See of Rome, inspired the Protestants with uncommon veneration for so useful an ally. See the ingenious and elegant discourses of the present bishop of Litchfield on that unpromising subject.

*  On this subject every reader of taste will be entertained with the third part of Burnet's Sacred Theory. He blends philosophy, scripture, and tradition, into one magnificent system; in the description of which, he displays a strength of fancy not inferior to that of Milton himself.

*  It may seem somewhat remarkable, that Bernard of Clairvaux, who records so many miracles of his friend St Malachi, never takes any notice of his own, which, in their turn, however, are carefully related by his companions and disciples. In the long series of ecclesiastical history, does there exist a single instance of a saint asserting that he himself possessed the gift of miracles?

*  The conversion of Constantine is the æra which is most usually fixed by Protestants. The more rational divines are unwilling to admit the miracles of the ivth, whilst the more credulous are unwilling to reject those of the vth century.

*  The philosopher Peregrinus (of whose life and death Lucian has left us so entertaining an account) imposed, for a long time, on the credulous simplicity of the Christians of Asia.

*  See a very curious Dissertation on the Vestals, in the Memoires de l'Academie des Inscriptions, tom.iv, pp.161-227. Notwithstanding the honours and rewards which were bestowed on those virgins, it was difficult to procure a sufficient number; nor could the dread of the most horrible death always restrain their incontinence.

† Before the fame of Origen had excited envy and persecution, this extraordinary action was rather admired than censured. As it was his general practice to allegorize scripture; it seems unfortunate that, in this instance only, he should have adopted the literal sense.

*  Something like this rash attempt was long afterwards imputed to the founder of the order of Fontevrault. Bayle has amused himself and his readers on that very delicate subject.

† Dupin gives a particular account of the dialogue of the ten virgins, as it was composed by Methodius, bishop of Tyre. The praises of virginity are excessive.

*  The same patient principles have been revived since the Reformation by the Socinians, the modern Anabaptists, and the Quakers. Barclay, the apologist of the Quakers, has protected his brethren, by the authority of the primitive Christians.

*  The Aristocratical party, in France, as well as in England, has strenuously maintained the divine origin of bishops. But the Calvinistical presbyters were impatient of a superior; and the Roman Pontiff refused to acknowledge an equal.

*  After we have passed the difficulties of the first century, we find the episcopal government universally established, till it was interrupted by the republican genius of the Swiss and German reformers.

*  If Novatus, Felicissimus, &c. whom the bishop of Carthage expelled from his church, and from Africa, were not the most detestable monsters of wickedness, the zeal of Cyprian must occasionally have prevailed over his veracity.

*  It is in French only, that the famous allusion to St Peter's name is exact. Tu es Pierre et sur cette pierre.—The same is imperfect in Greek, Latin, Italian, &c. and totally unintelligible in our Teutonic languages.

*  Such, at least, has been the laudable conduct of more modem missionaries, under the same circumstances. Above three thousand new-bom infants are annually exposed in the streets of Pekin.

*  The arts, the manners, and the vices of the priests of the Syrian goddess, are very humourously described by Apuleius, in the eighth book of his Metamorphoses.

*  The office of Asiarch was of this nature, and it is frequently mentioned in Aristides, the Inscriptions, &c. It was annual and elective. None but the vainest citizens could desire the honour; none but the most wealthy could support the expence.

*  The modem critics are not disposed to believe what the fathers almost unanimously assert, that St Matthew composed a Hebrew gospel, of which only the Greek translation is extant. It seems, however, dangerous to reject their testimony.

*  Nothing could exceed the horror and consternation of the senate on the discovery of the Bacchanalians, whose depravity is described, and perhaps exaggerated, by Livy.

*  In the fifteenth century, there were few who had either inclination or courage to question whether Joseph of Arimathea founded the monastery of Glastenbury, and whether Dionysius the Areopagite preferred the residence of Paris to that of Athens.

† The stupendous metamorphosis was performed in the ninth century.

*  According to Tertullian, the Christian faith had penetrated into parts of Britain inaccessible to the Roman arms. About a century afterwards, Ossian, the son of Fingal, is said to have disputed, in his extreme old age, with one of the foreign missionaries, and the dispute is still extant, in verse, and in the Erse language.

† The Goths, who ravaged Asia in the reign of Gallienus, carried away great numbers of captives; some of whom were Christians, and became missionaries.

*  Eusebius, v.28. It may be hoped, that none, except the heretics, gave occasion to the complaint of Celsus that the Christians were perpetually correcting and altering their Gospels.

*  The Philosophers, who derided the more ancient predictions of the Sibyls, would easily have detected the Jewish and Christian forgeries, which have been so triumphantly quoted by the fathers from Justin Martyr to Lactantius. When the Sibylline verses had performed their appointed task, they, like the system of the millennium, were quietly laid aside. The Christian Sibyl had unluckily fixed the ruin of Rome for the year 195.

† The fathers, as they are drawn out in battle array by Dom Calmet (Dissertations sur la Bible, tom. iii. pp. 295-308.), seem to cover the whole earth with darkness, in which they are followed by most of the modems.

‡ Origen ad Matth. c. 27. and a few modern critics, Beza, Le Clerc, Lardner, &c. are desirous of confining it to the land of Judea.

图书在版编目（CIP）数据

空袭中的沉思：英汉双语／（英）伍尔芙著；张子慧译．—北京：中译出版社，2011.12

（企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想）

ISBN 978-7-5001-3318-6

Ⅰ．①空…　Ⅱ．①伍…②张…　Ⅲ．①英语—汉语—对照读物②散文集—英国—现代　Ⅳ．①H319.4:I

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2011）第247454号

www.Penguin.com

'Thoughts on Peace in an Air Raid', 'Street Haunting', 'Craftsmanship'

'The Art of Biography' and

'Why?' are all taken from The Death of the Moth and Other Essays, first published in 1942

'Oxford Street Tide' first published in Good Housekeeping Magazine in 1932

'How It Strikes a Contemporary', 'The Patron and the Crocus' and 'Modern Fiction' are all taken from The Common Reader, Vol. 1, first published in 1925

'How Should One Read a Book?' is taken from The Second Common Reader, first published 1932

This selection first published in Penguin Books 2009

All rights reserved

Set by Rowland Phototypesetting Ltd, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk

出版发行／中译出版社

地　　址／北京市西城区车公庄大街甲4号物华大厦6层

电　　话／（010）68359827；68359303（发行部）；68359725（编辑部）

邮　　编／100044

传　　真／（010）68357870

电子邮箱／book@ctph.com.cn

网　　址／http://www.ctph.com.cn

出版策划／张高里

责任编辑／梁　斐

封面设计／奇文堂·潘峰

排　　版／竹叶图文

印　　刷／保定市中画美凯印刷有限公司

规　　格／760×940毫米　1/32

印　　张／6.5

版　　次／2012年3月第一版

印　　次／2012年3月第一次

ISBN 978-7-5001-3318-6　定价：14.00元

“企鹅”及相关标识是企鹅图书有限公司已经注册或尚未注册的商标。

未经允许，不得擅用。

中译出版社与企鹅图书有限公司联合出版

观　念

——《伟大的思想》代序

梁文道

每隔一段时间，媒体就喜欢评选一次“影响世界的X个人”或者“改变历史的X项发明”。然而，在我看来，几乎所有人类史上最重大的变革，首先都是一种观念的变革。

我们今天之所以会关注气候的暖化与生物多样性的保存，是因为我们看待地球的方式变了，我们比以前更加意识到人在自然中的位置，也更加了解自然其实是一个动态的系统。放弃了人类可以主宰地球的世界观，这就意味着我们接受了一个观念的变化。同样地，我们不再相信男人一出生就该主宰女人，甚至也不再认为男女之别是不可动摇的本质区分；这也是观念的变化。如果说环保运动和女权运动有任何影响的话，那些影响一定就是从大脑开始的。也不要只看好事，20世纪最惨绝人寰的浩劫最初也只不过是一些小小的观念，危险的观念。比如说一位德国人，他相信人类的进化必以“次等种族”的灭绝为代价……

这套丛书不叫“伟大的巨著”，是因为它们体积都不大，而且还有不少是抽取自某些名著的章节。可它们却全是伟大的观念，例如达尔文论天择，潘恩论常识，它们共同构成了人类的观念地图。从头看它们一遍，就是检视文明所走过的道路，从深处理解我们今天变成这个样子的原因。

也许你会发现其中有些陌生的名字，或者看起来没有那么“伟大”的篇章（譬如普鲁斯特追忆他的阅读时光），但你千万不要小看它们。因为真正重要、真正能够产生启蒙效果的观念往往具有跨界移动的能力，它会跨越时空，离开它原属的领域，在另一个世界产生意外的效果。就像马可·波罗在监狱里述说的异国图景，当时有谁料得到那些荒诞的故事会诱发出哥伦布的旅程呢？我也无法猜测，这套小书的读者里头会不会有下一个哥伦布，他将带着令人惊奇的观念航向自己的大海。

《伟大的思想》中文版序

企鹅《伟大的思想》丛书2004年开始出版。在英国，已付印80种，尚有20种计划出版。美国出版的丛书规模略小，德国的同类丛书规模更小一些。丛书销量已远远超过200万册，在全球很多人中间，尤其是学生当中，普及了哲学和政治学。中文版《伟大的思想》丛书的推出，迈出了新的一步，令人欢欣鼓舞。

推出这套丛书的目的是让读者再次与一些伟大的非小说类经典著作面对面地交流。太长时间以来，确定版本依据这样一个假设——读者在教室里学习这些著作，因此需要导读、详尽的注释、参考书目等。此类版本无疑非常有用，但我想，如果能够重建托马斯·潘恩《常识》或约翰·罗斯金《艺术与人生》初版时的环境，重新营造更具亲和力的氛围，那也是一件有意思的事。当时，读者除了原作者及其自身的理性思考外没有其他参照。

这样做有一定的缺点：每个作者的话难免有难解或不可解之处，一些重要的背景知识会缺失。例如，读者对亨利·梭罗创作时的情况毫无头绪，也不了解该书的接受情况及影响。不过，这样做的优点也很明显。最突出的优点是，作者的初衷又一次变得重要起来——托马斯·潘恩的愤怒、查尔斯·达尔文的灵光、塞内加的隐逸。这些作家在那么多国家影响了那么多人的生活，其影响不可估量，有的长达几个世纪，读他们书的乐趣罕有匹敌。没有亚当·斯密或阿图尔·叔本华，难以想象我们今天的世界。这些小书的创作年代已很久远，但其中的话已彻底改变了我们的政治学、经济学、智力生活、社会规划和宗教信仰。

《伟大的思想》丛书一直求新求变。地区不同，收录的作家也不同。在中国或美国，一些作家更受欢迎。英国《伟大的思想》收录的一些作家在其他地方则默默无闻。称其为“伟大的思想”，我们亦慎之又慎。思想之伟大，在于其影响之深远，而不意味着这些思想是“好”的，实际上一些书可列入“坏”思想之列。丛书中很多作家受到同一丛书其他作家的很大影响，例如，马塞尔·普鲁斯特承认受约翰·罗斯金影响很大，米歇尔·德·蒙田也承认深受塞内加影响，但其他作家彼此憎恨，如果发现他们被收入同一丛书，一定会气愤难平。不过，读者可自行决定这些思想是否合理。我们衷心希望，您能在阅读这些杰作中得到乐趣。

《伟大的思想》出版者

西蒙·温德尔

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

Penguin's Great Ideas series began publication in 2004. In the UK we now have 80 copies in print with plans to publish a further 20. A somewhat smaller list is published in the USA and a related, even smaller series in Germany. The books have sold now well over two million copies and have popularized philosophy and politics for many people around the world-particularly students. The launch of a Chinese Great Ideas series is an extremely exciting new development.

The intention behind the series was to allow readers to be once more face to face with some of the great non-fiction classics. For too long the editions of these books were created on the assumption that you were studying them in the classroom and that the student needed an introduction, extensive notes, a bibliography and so on. While this sort of edition is of course extremely useful, I thought it would be interesting to recreate a more intimate feeling-to recreate the atmosphere in which, for example, Thomas Paine's Common Sense or John Ruskin's On Art and Life was first published-where the reader has no other guide than the original author and his or her own common sense.

This method has its severe disadvantages-there will inevitably be statements made by each author which are either hard or impossible to understand, some important context might be missing. For example the reader has no clue as to the conditions under which Henry Thoreau was writing his book and the reader cannot be aware of the book's reception or influence. The advantages however are very clear-most importantly the original intentions of the author become once more important. The sense of anger in Thomas Paine, of intellectual excitement in Charles Darwin, of resignation in Seneca-few things can be more thrilling than to read writers who have had such immeasurable influence on so many lives, sometimes for centuries, in many different countries. Our world would not make sense without Adam Smith or Arthur Schopenhauer-our politics, economics, intellectual lives, social planning, religious beliefs have all been fundamentally changed by the words in these little books, first written down long ago.

The Great Ideas series continues to change and evolve. In different parts of the world different writers would be included. In China or in the United States there are some writers who are liked much more than others. In the UK there are writers in the Great Ideas series who are ignored elsewhere. We have also been very careful to call the series Great Ideas-these ideas are great because they have been so enormously influential, but this does not mean that they are Good Ideas-indeed some of the books would probably qualify as Bad Ideas. Many of the writers in the series have been massively influenced by others in the series-for example Marcel Proust owned so much to John Ruskin, Michel de Montaigne to Seneca. But others hated each other and would be distressed to find themselves together in the same series! But readers can decide the validity of these ideas for themselves. We very much hope that you enjoy these remarkable books.

Simon Winder

Publisher

Great Ideas

分册总目录

观　念——《伟大的思想》代序

《伟大的思想》中文版序

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

空袭中的沉思

Thoughts on Peace in an Air Raid

返回总目录

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

空袭中的沉思

（英汉双语）

［英］弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙　著

张子慧　译

中国出版集团

中译出版社

目　录

空袭中的沉思

城市漫步

牛津街浪潮

工　艺

传记艺术

对当代文学的印象

为什么

读者和报春花

现代小说

应该如何阅读

返回分册总目录

空袭中的沉思

昨天和前天连续两个晚上，德国人的飞机从这幢房子的上空掠过。此时此刻他们卷土重来。这种经历十分奇特：身处黑暗之中，飞机呼啸而过，嗡嗡作响。这声音不仅可能随时致命，还打断了关于和平冷静而连贯的思考。然而也正是这声音比祷告和圣歌更能强迫人思考和平。如果我们不能把和平变为现实，我们——不单单是这张床的这一个人，还有即将出生的千千万万的人——都将处于同样的黑暗之中，都将聆听同样的死亡悲鸣。枪声在山上砰砰响起，探照灯时不时穿透云层，一枚炸弹落在不近不远的地方。此时此刻我们正在思考为创造唯一有效的空袭避难所我们所能做的事情。

年轻的英国男人和年轻的德国男人正在头顶上空作战。保卫者是男人，进攻者也是男人。英国女人既没有武器退敌，也没有武器自卫。今晚她们只能手无寸铁地躺着。如果知道空中的战斗是为了保卫被德国人破坏的自由而进行，她们一定会尽自己所能为英国而战。然而手无寸铁的女人如何为自由而战呢？她们可以制造武器，纺织服装，或者烹饪食物。但是还有另外一个方法，无需武器却能为自由而战：我们可以进行思想斗争。我们可以思考如何帮助那些正在空中击敌的英国年轻人。

但是为了达到此目的，我们必须快速决策并付诸实施。空中的嗡鸣声唤醒了思考。今早《泰晤士报》刊登了一个女人的声音，“女人没有丝毫政治话语权。”内阁里没有女人，甚至任何重要职位都没有女人。制订有效计划的所有决策者都是男人。这种做法不仅抑制了思维的活跃，还助长了不负责任的风气。为什么不堵上耳朵埋头在枕头里，放弃决策这个徒劳的行为？因为不光办公室和会议室有思考的空间，别的地方也有。我们能因为看起来无用就放弃个人思考或遐想，从而丧失可能对年轻的英国男人有价值的武器吗？仅仅因为我们的能力让我们面对辱骂甚至蔑视，我们就不会对自己的无能感到愧疚吗？“我永远不会放弃精神斗争”，布莱克这样写道。精神斗争意味着反主流思想，不随波逐流。

主流思想借助广播和滔滔不绝的政治家进行快速而猛烈的传播。每天他们都说我们是自由的民族，我们为了保卫自由而战。这种思想回荡在年轻飞行员的脑海中，成为他们在云层间穿梭盘旋的动力。在下方，我们头上是屋顶，手边却是防毒面具。我们务必要揭开谎言的伪装，发现真相。真相是我们并不自由。今晚我们不论男女都是囚徒——男人全副武装，手边是枪；我们女人身处黑暗，手边是防毒面具。如果我们真的是自由的，我们应该在户外，跳舞，嬉戏，或是坐在窗边一起聊天。是什么让我们不能这样做？“希特勒！”喇叭里传来一声大叫。希特勒是谁？他是做什么的？他们的回答是侵略、暴政和对权力赤裸裸的疯狂追逐。消灭了希特勒，你们就会得到自由。

飞机嗡嗡飞过，听上去好像有人在头顶上锯木头。飞机盘旋不停地飞过，房子正上方的木头也锯个不停。脑子里的声音也不停。埃斯特女士在今早的泰晤士新闻里说道：“男人潜意识中的希特勒主义压制了有能力的女人。”毫无疑问我们被压制了。今晚我们都是囚徒——英国男人被囚禁在飞机中，英国女人被囚禁在床上。但是如果他们停下来转而去思考，他们可能被杀死；我们也是一样。所以让我们替他们思考，让我们把在意识和潜意识里压制我们的希特勒主义彻底剔除。希特勒主义渴望侵略，渴望占领，渴望奴役。即使在黑暗中，这一切依然清晰可见。我们能看到耀眼的橱窗里茫然注视的女人，涂脂抹粉的女人，穿戴整齐的女人，涂着深红色唇膏搽着深红色指甲油的女人。她们是奴役思想的奴隶。如果我们可以将自己从奴役中解脱出来，我们应该也可以将男人从专制中解脱出来。奴隶成就了希特勒们。

一枚炸弹掉了下来。所有的窗户都吱吱作响。高射炮猛烈开火。山上还隐藏着一些火炮，上面覆盖了一张缠绕着模仿秋天落叶色调的绿色和棕色布条的网。现在这些火炮也都开火了。九点广播的时候我们将听到“晚间击落四十四架敌机，其中高射炮击落十架。”广播说解除武装是和平条件之一。意思是将来再也没有武器、陆军、海军和空军，再不会训练年轻人使用武器战斗。头脑中响起一个声音，好像阁楼上的嗡嗡声，这声音来自一句引用：“与真正的敌人战斗，射击素不相识的陌生人，赢得不朽的荣誉和光辉，回家时胸前挂满了奖牌和勋章，这就是我最大的愿望……学习，训练，一切，我的一生都将致力于实现这个愿望。”

这些话来自一位英国年轻人，他参加了上次战斗。面对这些，主流思想家还会认为仅仅在会议桌上签署“解除武装”的文件就完成了所有他们该做的事情吗？奥赛罗可以失去他的财产，但他还是奥赛罗。在空中战斗的年轻飞行员的动力不仅是广播里的声音，还有他们内心的声音——人类古老的本能，教育和传统助长并推崇的本能。他们会因为这些本能而备受责备吗？我们能听任政治家的调遣而收起母性吗？在和平条件下假设有这么一个命令：只有少数被特别挑选过的女人可以生育。我们会甘心服从吗？我们可能会说，“母性是女人的光辉之处。学习，训练，一切，我的一生都致力于实现这一点。”但是，如果为了全人类的利益，为了世界和平，有必要限制生育和收起母性，女人将会欣然接受。男人会帮助她们。他们会因女人的不生育而表彰她们。他们会给予女人其他释放创造能力的机会。那也属于我们争取自由斗争的一部分。我们必须帮助年轻的英国男人从内心根除对奖牌和勋章的狂热。我们必须为这些试图战胜内心好战本能，潜意识里有希特勒主义的年轻人创造更多光荣的活动。我们必须补偿失去武器的男人。

空中的嗡嗡声越来越响，所有的探照灯都直立起来，它们对准这屋顶上的一点，炸弹随时都会落在这幢房子上。一，二，三，四，五，六……时间一秒一秒流逝。炸弹尚未降落。但是在悬而未决的时间里所有的思考都停止了，所有的感觉都消失了，充斥着沉闷无聊。指甲嵌入硬木板中，好像嵌入了一切。恐惧和憎恶的情绪变得枯燥无味。一旦恐惧消除，思绪就跳脱出来，凭本能慢慢恢复，试图开始创新。房间一片漆黑，创新只能靠回忆。想到那些八月曾有的回忆——在白莱特听瓦格纳；在罗马的平原上行走；还有在伦敦。朋友的声音纷至沓来。诗歌的只言片语进入脑海。每一个想法，即使在回忆中，都远远比恐惧和憎恶带来的沉闷无聊来得积极乐观，充满活力，抚慰人心和富有创意。因此，如果我们将要对失去光辉荣耀和武器的年轻人进行补偿，我们必须赋予他们获得创新感受的方法，我们必须营造幸福，我们必须将他们从机械中解放出来，我们必须将他们从囚牢引领到一个自由天地。但是如果德国和意大利的年轻人还是奴隶，单单解放英国年轻人有什么用呢？

探照灯在公寓上方照来照去，现在停在了飞机身上。从这扇窗望出去，可以看到一只银色的小虫在光线里翻转扭曲。枪声砰砰响了一阵。然后终于停火。攻击者可能在山后被击落了。之前有一天一个德国飞行员在附近安全着陆。他用流利的英语对逮捕他的人说：“不打仗了，我真高兴！”然后一个英国男人递给他一支烟，一个英国女人给他沏了一杯茶。从此可以看出，如果将男人从机械中解脱出来，和平的种子不会都落在石地上，它可以生根发芽。

终于完全停火了。所有的探照灯关闭，夏日夜晚回归了自然的漆黑，耳边再次响起村庄往常和平安详的声音。一个苹果扑通落地。猫头鹰一边咕咕叫着，一边扇着翅膀在林间飞来飞去。我突然想起那些话，我差点忘记一位年长英国作家的话：“美国有很多猎人……”让我们把这些支离破碎的信息传达给那些在美国的猎人，传达给那些还没有被机枪火力惊醒的男人和女人，相信他们一定会宽厚、仁慈地重新思考这些信息，也许将这些信息转化为有用的东西。不过现在，世界处于黑夜的那一半，要睡了。

城市漫步

游历伦敦

可能没有人会对一支铅笔热情澎湃。但是总有些时候就是特别想拥有一支铅笔；有些时候我们为了获得什么而找借口在下午茶之后晚饭之前穿过半个伦敦。正如猎狐者打猎是为了捕获狐狸幼崽，人们打高尔夫球是为了享受城市建筑以外的自然空地，因此当到街上走走的想法涌上心头，而想要以铅笔作为托辞时，我们可能会说：“真的，我得买支铅笔。”仿佛凭此借口我们可以尽情享受冬日城市的生活乐趣——在伦敦的街道上漫步。

时间应该是晚上，季节应该是冬天，因为在冬天，空气中弥漫着快乐的香槟气息，街道变得热闹繁华，这一切都令人心生感激。在夏天，喜欢树荫、安静和牧草场的甜味会被嘲笑，在冬天则不会这样。晚间的黑暗和灯光也让我们自由自在摆脱束缚。我们不再是自己。四点至六点之间的傍晚，天气美好，我们步出家门，不再是朋友们熟知的自己，变成了无名流浪汉共产大军的一员，他们向来认为独居是件好事。在自己的房间里我们被物品包围着，这些物品不仅传达了我们的奇怪秉性，还加深了个人经历的记忆。比如说，在壁炉上挂着的那个碗，是一个大风天从曼图亚买来的。我们当时正要离开商店，一位带着邪气的老妇人猛地一下拉住我们的裙子，说她可能某天突然就饿死，她大叫：“拿着它！”然后把一个蓝白相间的瓷碗塞到我们手中，仿佛连她自己都无法面对如此莫名其妙的慷慨大方。正因为如此，尽管怀疑被狠狠地骗了，我们还是内疚地把它带回了客栈。回去的时候是午夜时分，客栈老板正和他妻子激烈地争吵，我们都向院子探出身去看，结果却被在柱子上往复缠绕的藤蔓和在天空中熠熠生辉的星辰转移了注意力。那个时刻被定格了，像一枚硬币被打上烙印一样，然后不为人察觉地从一百万硬币之中缓缓滑落。在那里，忧郁的英国人在小铁桌边喝上几杯咖啡，精神振作之后，就透露了内心的秘密——标准旅行者所为。所有这一切——意大利，大风天缠绕在柱子上的藤蔓，英国人和他内心的秘密——都因壁炉上挂着的瓷碗而从记忆浮现出来。目光落到地面，看到的是地毯上一块棕色的污渍。这得怪乔治洛埃。“那人坏透了！”康明斯一边说一边把水壶放下，他本来要往茶壶里添水，结果溢出来一点洒在地毯上形成了棕色的污渍。

但是一旦把门关上，所有这些都消失了。我们的灵魂形成一个硬壳困住自己，让自己看起来与他人不同。现在这个硬壳碎了，形状粗糙的重重皱褶都碎了，剩下的是沉默寡言的敏锐，那一只无与伦比的眼睛。冬天的街道多美啊！在时明时暗中，可以隐约看出笔直的大道两侧对称门窗的轮廓；路灯下晃动着浮岛一样的光圈，表情愉快的男男女女快步走过。和他们身上散发出的贫困窘迫相比，脸上的表情看起来那样不真实，呈现出一种胜利的气息，好像他们给生活设了个圈套，然后得逞了，生活居然跌跌撞撞错过了他们。然而无论如何，我们都只是在做表面文章。眼睛不是矿工，不是潜水者，更不是地下珍宝的搜寻者。它只是带领我们顺流而下；眼睛看着的时候大脑可能中断思考，停下来休息。

冬天的伦敦街道真美，浮岛一般的光影下狭长黝黑的树丛。夜色笼罩下，树影森森，密草茵茵，一切都好像进入自然而然的睡眠状态。如果走过铁栅栏，可以听到树叶和树枝轻声颤动的噼啪声，猫头鹰咕咕叫着，远处山谷中火车辘辘驶过，更能感觉到四周的安静。但别忘了这是伦敦。光秃秃的树冠上高高挂着的映出偏红的黄色光线的长椭圆形——那是窗户；如低悬的星星一样不间断亮着的光点——那是路灯；掌管国家和国家和平的空荡地面不过是伦敦的一个广场，周围环绕着办公室和住宅。那里现在正灯火通明，看得到地图、文件和办公人员坐在桌子上用沾湿的手指翻阅没完没了的书信；或是火光摇摆，路灯光线直射进私人会客厅，看得到舒适的椅子、纸张、瓷器、嵌入式的桌子和女子画像。画像里她正精确计算要放几勺茶。她盯着门就好像她听到楼下门铃响起，有人问她在不在家。

但是我们必须在这里停下来。我们正陷入比视觉认可的发掘深度还深刻的危险之中；我们纠结于一些细枝末节而影响了一路顺流而下。随时，休眠的人们将会开始骚动，然后用一千把小提琴和小号把我们吵醒；人类会惊醒，维护所有的怪异、痛苦和卑劣。让我们多待一会儿，只满足于表面——公共汽车闪闪发亮，肉店里黄色的猪肋排和紫色的牛排肉色鲜亮，花店的玻璃橱窗里一束束蓝色和红色的鲜花争相怒放。

眼睛有奇特的属性：只为美而停留，就好像蝴蝶追求色彩，沉浸于温暖之中一样。在像这样一个自然用尽全力表现自己的冬日夜晚，在这样一个如同宝石构成的世界里，眼睛带回了如折断的小块祖母绿和红珊瑚一般最好的战利品。（从非专业的平均水平看来）眼睛无法从更多模糊的角度和关系中将这些战利品组合起来。因此在细细地品味了这些纯粹简单独立美好的视觉大餐之后，我们有点腻了。我们在鞋店门外徘徊，想了一些与真正原因毫无关联的小借口，不去看明媚的街景，而是退回到微暗的房间。在那里的高台上，我们顺从地抬起左脚，可能会问：“侏儒是什么样的？”

两位常人身高的女士护送她走进来。她们在她身旁看起来像是和蔼可亲的巨人。她们对着售货小姐微笑，看起来并不想突出她的缺陷，但让别人明白她处于她们的保护之中。残疾人脸上常出现的别扭但又歉疚的表情也出现在她脸上。她需要她们的体贴，但是她讨厌那样。护送她的女士把售货小姐叫过去，溺爱地笑着让售货小姐为“这位小姐”拿双鞋试试。那女孩推开她面前的小台子，侏儒小姐猛地在地上踩了一脚好像要吸引所有人的注意。她伸出脚好像在命令我们所有人——看啊！快看啊！可以看到那只脚形状、大小都与正常发育的女人无异。她的脚拱起，像个贵族。她看着自己放在地面上的脚，这一刻整个人的气质都变了。她看上去温和而满足，充满自信。她要了一只又一只，试了一双又一双。她站起身，在镜子前面踮起脚尖，看她自己穿着黄色鞋子，鹿皮鞋和蜥蜴皮鞋。她掀起裙子，炫耀她短小的双腿。她在想，无论如何，脚是一个人全身最重要的部位；她自言自语，女人会单单因为漂亮的脚得到爱情。只盯着脚看，她可能想的是身体其他的部分和这双美丽的脚比起来不值一提。她衣衫褴褛，但她准备在鞋上奢侈一下。这是唯一一次她不怕被人看反而积极地想要吸引注意，她用尽所有手段拖延时间，慢慢地选择搭配。她这样走一步那样走一步，看起来就像在说，都来看我的脚。好脾气的售货小姐一定说了恭维话，因为她的脸突然洋溢起喜悦。可是，尽管护送她的女士和蔼可亲，也有自己的事情要处理；她必须要做出决定，她得决定要哪双鞋。终于，她选定了一双鞋，晃着手指上的包装袋，她走到监护者中间。喜悦退去，理性回归，原有的别扭歉疚的表情又回到脸上。她重新回到街上，又变成了一个不过尔尔的侏儒。

但是她的心情变了；我们跟着她来到街上，她营造出了一种好像真的能让人变得驼背、畸形和残疾的气氛。两个留胡子的男人，兄弟俩，显然是全盲的，全身依靠用手撑住他们中间的小男孩的头，走过大道。他们在盲人道上走得坚强不屈却有点畏首畏尾，这给他们的行动增添了几分恐怖和宿命突然降临到他们身上的必然色彩。他们前进，笔直走着，这个小护卫队好像以独有的静穆，直接和灾难的气势在行人中间开了一条路。实际上，侏儒已经开始跳街上众人都熟悉的踉踉跄跄的奇怪舞蹈；胖女士穿着紧紧裹住自己的海豹皮外套；弱智的男孩吮吸着拐杖上的银色小球；老人蹲坐在门阶上，好像突然看到了什么人间奇观，他坐下来看——大家都和着侏儒蹒跚的节奏开始跳舞。

有人可能会问，这些跛足眼盲的残疾人生活在怎样的缝隙中？可能在霍尔本和苏活一带窄小老房子的高层。那里的人们来自五湖四海，名字千奇百怪，营生多种多样，令人好奇。人们居住在那里。看起来好像身穿海豹皮外套的女士可能觉得生活尚可忍受，与手风琴打褶人或是包纽扣的人打发时间；如此精彩的生活并不总是悲剧性的。我们沉思，他们并不嫉恨我们的幸福。突然，拐过转角，我们遇到一个有胡子的犹太人，他邋遢，极度饥饿，悲苦凄惨；或是路过素不相识的老妇人，她跛足，躺在公共场所台阶上，身上裹着一件斗篷，就像是谁匆匆忙忙盖在死去的马或驴身上一样。一看到这样的情景，后背上就一阵战栗，汗毛直立；突然之间眼中燃起熊熊火焰；我想问一个从未被回答的问题，这些无家可归者通常不会选择待在剧院的周围，去听街头艺人的手摇风琴，也不会等到夜幕降临，去感受用餐者和舞者的光鲜亮丽和美丽身姿。他们靠近商店的橱窗。这些商店的服务对象是躺在门阶上的老妇人、盲人、跛足的侏儒，向他们提供装饰有天鹅图案并在颈部贴金的沙发；嵌有多种颜色水果的餐桌；铺满绿色大理石以便更好地承受野猪头重量的橱柜；因年代久远变得异常柔软，从淡红褪色成浅绿的地毯。

边走边看，一切都随意自然却奇迹般地散发出美丽的光芒，仿佛今晚牛津街上买卖的毫无例外全是宝贝。尽管没有购买的想法，眼睛却还是快活大方；它不停地创造；不停地装扮；不停地强化。站在街上，可以建起梦想中房子的所有房间并随心所欲地用沙发、桌子和地毯去装饰。这块地毯适合门厅，那只光洁雪白的碗应该放在窗台边雕刻的桌子上，可以从那面圆圆的大镜子里看到我们的狂欢。但是，即使建造装饰了房子，也乐于没有责任去占有它；一眨眼就可以拆掉房子，再用别的椅子和玻璃建造装饰新房子。或纵情欣赏古董珠宝，徜徉在无数的指环和悬挂的项链中。比如，我们选那些珍珠，然后想象如果我们戴上，生活会有怎样的变化。转眼间就到凌晨两三点了；伦敦上流住宅区无人的街道上依旧灯火通明。这种时候只有汽车在外面，人感到空虚、激动和隐隐的快乐。戴着珍珠，穿着丝绸，步出房间，走上阳台，俯视沉睡中上流住宅区的花园。有些人的卧室还亮着灯，可能是刚从法院回家的大人物，可能是上流社会的服务生，可能是与政治家牵手的贵妇。一只猫蹑手蹑脚爬上花园的围墙。有人在绿窗帘后面的房间暗处做爱，发出细微的诱人的声音。年老的首相一边优雅地散步，一边为某位头发卷曲佩戴祖母绿的贵夫人解释历史上此处发生过的重大事件，仿佛英国的城郡都在平台之下沐浴阳光。我们像是攀上了最大轮船的最高桅杆的顶端；然而同时我们对此一无所知；如此这般。爱不能证明，也不能完成伟大的成就；所以我们与时间赛跑，轻轻地梳理羽毛。此刻我们站在阳台上，看着月光下的猫慢慢爬上玛丽公主家花园的围墙。

还能有什么更荒谬吗？实际上，现在是六点整；冬天的晚上；我们走路去斯特兰德街买铅笔。那么我们怎么会同时在六月份戴着珍珠待在阳台上呢？还能有什么更荒谬吗？但是这是自然的恶作剧，不是我们的。当她开始最伟大的杰作，创造人类时，她就已经想到这件事了。她反而摇摇头，回顾每一个人。我们的愿望和本能不知不觉变得完全不同，因此我们满是痕迹、斑驳不堪、混杂凌乱；所有的颜色都褪去了。到底是一月份站在人行道上的自己是真的，还是六月份在阳台上探身的自己是真的呢？我是在这里还是在那里？抑或这两个都不是真正的我，我既不在这里也不在那里，但是有些事富于变化并且漫无目的，只有当我们顺应心愿让它自由无阻地发展时，我们才是真正的自己？环境追求统一；方便起见，一个人就是一个整体。一位好公民，当他晚上打开家门，他一定是银行家，高尔夫爱好者，妻子的丈夫和孩子的父亲；而不是在沙漠中漂泊的流浪者，不是仰望星空的神秘主义者，不是流连在旧金山贫民窟的酒色之徒，不是领导革命的战士，更不是离群索居心存怀疑哀号悲鸣的贱民。当他打开家门，他会分开手指轻抚头发，然后和其他人一样把雨伞放在台上。

现在时间刚刚好，我们来到二手书店。这里是保守陈腐之物的避风港；我们看过了街道上的绚烂与悲惨，来到这里让内心保持平衡。书店老板娘坐在烧得很旺的炭火炉边，把脚放在炉围上，被门挡住，这情景让人平静又愉快。她从不读书，要看也是报纸；除了卖书，她最高兴谈论的就是帽子；她说她喜欢实用兼备美观的帽子。哦不，他们不在店里住，住在布里克斯顿；她得能看到一点绿色才行。夏天，她把自己花园长出的花放在大口瓶里，放在积满灰尘的东西上面，以便活跃书店气氛。到处都是书，使我们充满了危险的感觉。二手书是流浪者，无家可归；它们来路不同，却聚集在一起，带着一种图书馆缺乏的温顺的魅力。除此之外，在这个杂乱无章的环境里，我们也许可以有幸接触到一些素不相识的陌生人，有可能成为生命中最好的朋友。当我们被简陋和遗弃引导从上层书架上取出某本灰白的书，总是希望能够在此遇到一位一百年前横跨马背在中部地区和威尔士地区开拓木材市场的男人；他是一位不知名的旅行家，呆在客栈里，大口喝酒，描绘美丽的女孩和庄严的风俗习惯，费力顽强地将其全部记录下来，所有一切完全出自单纯的热爱（这本书由他自费出版）；极其朴实，繁杂，注重事实的内容和弥漫着蜀葵和干草的香气的自画像一起为他在思想炉边的温暖角落永远保留了一个位置。现在可能有人会花上十八便士买这本书。尽管书的标价是三磅六十便士，但是书店老板娘考虑到封面的粗糙，以及从沙福克郡一位绅士的图书馆的拍卖会上买来这本书就一直呆在那的情况，便会以十八便士的价格卖掉它。

然后，环顾书店，我们会和一些仅存记录的默默无闻的人和消失的人建立突如其来的友谊。比如，这本诗集，印刷精美，包装完好，附有作者画像。他是位诗人，因溺水而英年早逝，他的诗，如此温和谨慎，充满说教，发出脆弱的笛声，好像后街上穿着灯芯绒夹克的意大利手摇风琴手演奏出的声音。还有一些旅行者，就像不服输的老姑娘，还在求证他们经受过的苦难和维多利亚女王还是个小女孩时他们热爱的希腊的日落。去康瓦尔郡小煤矿参观被认为非常值得记录。人们顺着莱茵河一路向上，用印度墨为彼此画像，坐在甲板上绳圈的旁边阅读；他们测量金字塔；多年来远离人类文明；在令人讨厌的沼泽里和黑人交涉。他们整理行装，出发上路，大漠探寻，传染感冒，在印度终其一生，甚至涉足中国然后返回埃德蒙顿过着单调的教区生活，在布满灰尘的地面上翻滚，英国是这样令人不安的海面，在家门口就能波浪惊天。旅行和探险的海水好像拍打着努力奋斗的小岛，终生事业也在地板上的印刷品中找到立足之地。这些深褐色的书籍背面刻着开头字母，可能是传播福音的神职人员；可能是用锤子和凿子在尤里披蒂斯和哀斯奇勒斯的古代文献上雕刻出声的学者。思考、注释、传播以惊人的速度在我们周围及所有一切之间进行，像准时持久的海浪，拍打着古代文艺作品的海岸。无数著作告诉我们亚瑟有多么爱劳拉，他们分开的时候满怀忧郁，他们重逢之后幸福地生活在一起，就像维多利亚女王管理这些岛屿时那样。

世界上的书无穷无尽，只能大略浏览，颔首致意，浅谈几句，或是略微思考之后就换个话题，就好像在街上，总会偶然听到一些只言片语。他们在讨论一个叫凯特的女人，“昨晚我和她开门见山地说了……如果你觉得我连一张一便士的邮票也不如，我说……”但是谁是凯特，一便士的邮票对他们的友谊意味着什么严重问题，我们永远也不知道；就这样凯特陷入他们滔滔不绝的温暖。在街角，生活翻开了新一页，可以看到两个男人站在路灯下商量事情。他们把最近新闻里来自纽马克特的电报一五一十地读出来。这时他们是不是在想有了钱就可以脱去褴褛衣衫，换上轻衣锦裘，挂上怀表，给原本无扣的衬衫别上钻石别针，不复以往的破旧？但是此刻行走的人群快速移动，以致我们无法提出这样的问题。在从工作到家的一小段路上，他们沉浸在令人陶醉的梦里，现在他们离开了办公室，迎面而来的是新鲜的空气。他们穿上了平时必须远离的鲜亮外衣，充分利用余下的时间，然后他们变成了伟大的板球选手、著名演员和在危机时刻拯救国家的战士。在梦中，他们有时打着夸张的手势，有时大声地骂骂咧咧，穿过斯特兰德街，跨过滑铁卢大桥。在桥下乘火车前往巴恩斯和索比顿，火车辘辘作响。那里大厅中钟表的模样和地下室里晚餐的香气在梦里不断出现。

我们现在到达了斯特兰德街，我们在路边停下，手指长的小棒条跨越生命的效率和内涵设下障碍。“真的，我必须——真的，我必须”——就是这样。思维丝毫不考虑需要，就向暴君般的习惯表示屈服。一个人必须，总是必须做点儿这做点儿那；一个人就是不被允许享受生活。前一段时间我们不就是为这个原因捏造理由，编出了要买东西的借口吗？我们要买什么来着？啊，想起来了，要买一支铅笔。那就让我们走去买铅笔吧。然而我们正要遵从指示，另一个自己跳出来讨论应该服从暴君的权威。于是又一场习以为常的争论开始了。躲在义务指挥棒的后面，我们慢慢走开，看到了开阔的泰晤士河——如此的宽广、阴郁和沉静。有人在夏天的夜晚斜倚着堤岸，对世界没有一丝留恋。我们借他的眼睛去看泰晤士河。我们先把买铅笔的事情放到一边；先去找这个人——马上发现一个再明显不过的事实，这个人就是我们自己。如果我们能站在六个月前曾驻足的地方，我们难道不能像当时那样冷静、淡定和满意吗？我们不妨再作尝试。不过河水比印象中更为汹涌阴沉。激流奔向大海。河水掀翻了一只拖船和两只驳船，船里的稻草紧紧地贴在防雨布的顶盖上。离我们很近的地方，有一对好奇地倚着栏杆的情侣，并没有恋人们的自我意识，仿佛他们正要开始的恋爱重要得可以理所当然地平息对人类放纵堕落行为的任何质问。现在我们看到的景象和听到的声音和过去没有任何关联；我们也感受不到六个月前站在我们现在位置的那个人的沉着心境。他想到的是死亡的幸福；我们想到的是生活的不安定。他没有未来；然而未来正在侵袭我们内心的安宁。只有我们回顾过去，摘除其中的不确定因素，我们才能享受美好的平和。如果是这样，我们就必须返回去，我们必须再次去斯特兰德街，即使在这个时候，我们也必须找到能卖给我们铅笔的商店。

进入一个陌生的房间总是新奇有趣的；因为房屋主人的生活和性格已经把他们的气息注入到房间里，我们一走进去，就能呼吸到全新的感情律动。毫无疑问，在文具店里，人们刚刚在吵嘴。怒火点着了空气。双方都停了下来。老妇人——他们可能是丈夫和妻子——退到里屋去；老头儿额头圆圆的，瞪大了眼睛端详一些伊丽莎白时期手稿上的插画，留下来招呼我们。“铅笔，铅笔，”他重复着，“有，有。”他说话心不在焉，但是藏不住情绪的两颊又流露出热情。他打开一个又一个盒子，然后又合上。他说因为有这么多不同的种类，找起东西特别困难。他开始讲一个故事，故事是关于一位合法进入他妻子管辖范围的绅士。他们相识多年；他说，他半个世纪都与教堂打交道，好像希望他妻子在后堂能够听到似的。他打翻了一盒橡皮圈。终于，他因为自己这样笨手笨脚有点生气了，把双开式弹簧门推开，粗鲁地喊起来：“你到底把铅笔放哪儿了？”好像他妻子有意把铅笔藏起来似的。老妇人走进来，谁也不看，她的手直直放在右边的盒子上。那里有铅笔。他怎么能离得了她呢？难道她对他来说不是必不可少的吗？为了把铅笔一个挨一个不偏不斜地放在一起，必须得特别挑选铅笔；这个太软，那个太硬。两个人安静地对视。他们站的时间越长，就越冷静。气氛缓和了，愤怒消解了。现在，双方都不说话，言归于好。老头儿不喜欢本·琼森的内封面，把盒子放回了适当的位置，向我们大大鞠躬道晚安，然后他们就回去了。她可能拿出了针线活儿；他也许在看报纸；金丝雀把种子平均分给两个人。争吵结束了。

鬼魂出来游荡了，争吵结束了，铅笔买了，街道重新变得空荡荡的。生活退回到顶层，路灯亮起来。人行道干燥坚硬；马路闪着银光。穿过一片荒芜走回家，把侏儒、盲人、上流社交区别墅的晚会和文具店争吵的故事讲给自己听。虽然只是了解了这些人生活的点滴，却足以让人感觉想法不再单一，有那么几分钟可以进入别人的身体，想别人的事情。可以变成洗衣妇、酒店老板，或是街角的歌手。朋友们，有什么比脱离人格的直线轨道，沿着通向野蔷薇和茂密树丛的足迹，进入野兽栖居的森林深处更为快乐神奇呢？

毋庸置疑：逃离是最大的欢乐；冬天在街道上漫步是最伟大的探险。我们依然再次踏上门阶，感受着长久以来所拥有的东西及偏见包围着我们，抚慰着我们；还有自己，停留在众多城市角落，如飞蛾扑火一般，躲避隐藏。又看到了常见的门；椅子、瓷碗和地毯上的棕色污渍还保持着我们走时的模样。这——让我们温柔地查看，让我们满怀敬畏地抚摸——正是我们从城市的宝藏里掠夺的唯一战利品，那支铅笔。

牛津街浪潮

码头上的货物包装粗糙，体积庞大，种类多样，等运到牛津街就变得精美细致了许多。大桶潮湿的烟叶被银色的纸片卷成无数排列整齐的香烟。大捆的羊毛被纺成薄背心或柔软的长袜。厚厚的羊毛油光锃亮，柔软的羊皮散发出奶脂香。买卖双方都同样经历了城市的变迁。穿着黑色外套远行，或穿着缎面长裙小步走，人们比身上穿的动物制品更适应新环境。裁缝不拉也不拽，熟练地打开抽屉，将绸缎在柜台上展平，用码尺量好之后用剪刀裁开。

不用多说，牛津街并不是伦敦最有名的大道。众所周知，卫道士对在牛津街购物的人表示蔑视，而他们居然还获得纨绔子弟的支持。庞德街和汉诺威广场随处都透露出更为庄重的时尚气息。牛津街有太多的讨价还价，太多的促销，太多上周还是两磅六便士现在就减价到一磅十一便士的便宜货。这里的买卖十分喧嚣吵闹。日落时漫步——看到夕阳映射下的大理石拱门，以及人工光、成堆的绸缎和闪烁的公交车——牛津街好像一条长丝带，虽然起伏不定、俗艳耀眼，但是充满了吸引；又好像一张河床，铺满了被清泉冲刷过的卵石。一切都闪闪发亮。春天街上会出现许多手推车，上面盛满了精美包装的郁金香、紫罗兰和水仙。脆弱的小船在交通洪流中茫然打转。角落里，衣衫褴褛的魔术师正把彩色纸片放进大玻璃杯，然后把它们变成绚丽多彩的花丛——水下花园。另一角，乌龟在草丛里睡觉。它们行动最为缓慢，想法却最为深沉。乌龟总是一步两步地慢慢移动，路过的行人都小心翼翼地避开它们。有人认为，正如昆虫对星辰的想法一样，人们对乌龟的想法也是人性中恒久不变的一点。不仅如此，在别处大概很难看到一位女士停下来把一只乌龟放到包裹上。

考虑到这一切——拍卖、手推车、便宜货、亮晶晶的小装饰——从来没人说牛津街的特色是精美。这里是感官的温床和暖房。这里的人行道好像总是发生重大的惨剧，女演员离婚，百万富翁自杀之类的事件在此经常出现。居民区里的人行道则更为朴实无华。这里的新闻比伦敦其他地方更快更新。这里的人潮拥挤得好像要会吃掉海报上的墨水。这里比别处的消耗量更大，需要提供更多最新版本的新闻。牛津街用不断变化的景象、声音和动作为被混乱印象绑架的大脑松绑。包裹撞来撞去，小公交车擦过路边，管乐队大吹大唱，音乐随着队伍远去慢慢变小。公交车、火车、汽车和手推车川流不息，就像拼图中的碎片；一只白色的手臂举起，拼图变厚、凝固、停止；白色的手臂放下，一切又开始、奔驰、扭曲、乱七八糟、毫无秩序。不管我们观望多久，拼图总也拼不起来。

富商在转弯过去的河岸修建了富丽堂皇的宫殿，如同古代萨莫塞公爵在诺森伯兰，道赛特伯爵在索尔斯伯里，以及斯特兰德街上的宫殿一样。大企业的不同建筑见证了建造者的勇敢大胆和进取心，正如卡文迪什和珀西的大厦见证了在远郡同样存在的这些品质一样。我们的商人中一定会涌现出未来的卡文迪什和珀西。诚然，牛津街的伟人非常慷慨大方，和任何在家门口向穷人分发财物或面包的公爵或伯爵没有区别。只不过他们换了一种方式。他们的施舍援助体现在令人心跳的刺激、光彩夺目的展示、扣人心弦的娱乐、晚上灯火通明的窗户或是白天迎风飘扬的旗帜。他们不计回报，和我们分享最新的消息。在那里，会客厅里演奏的音乐是免费的。花不到一磅就可以享受高大宽敞通风良好的房间；里面地板舒适，电梯豪华，墙壁干净，地毯整洁，银器闪亮。就连珀西和卡文迪什也没有这些。当然所有的装修都是为了能从我们口袋里拿到一磅十一便士；但是不管是诗人的题词还是农场主的选票，珀西和卡文迪什既没有这么大方，也不可能提供找零服务。牛津街的新老贵族都大兴土木，极力丰富生活娱乐设施。

但是不能否认的是牛津街的宫殿并不牢固——大概只能算得上是场地而非居住地。如果路过这里，看到木条安在铁制横梁上，就会意识到如此装饰华丽的外墙其实不堪一击。哪怕用雨伞尖用力一戳，都可能会对墙壁造成不可修复的破坏。伊丽莎白女王在位时为安置农场主和磨坊主修建了很多农舍。这些农舍虽然陈旧，但是墙壁以橡木为梁，紧密黏合在一起的砖块货真价实，经受得住外力冲击。除此之外农舍还安装了电力配套设施。这些农舍将会目睹所谓的宫殿化为乌有。也许有一天，当工人冒险爬上灰尘弥漫的屋顶，轻轻地敲打那些脆弱得好像是黄色硬纸板和糖霜的墙壁和外表，牛津街就会消失不见。

卫道士又开始对此表示不屑一顾。他们认为，如此脆弱不堪和易损的石头和砖块正是我们这个时代浮躁、虚荣、草率和不负责任的真实写照。不过大概他们也会被嘲笑，就好比我们希望用铜去铸造百合，或是让雏菊长出不会腐坏的珐琅花瓣。现代伦敦的魅力就在于伦敦的建筑不是为了持久；而是为了传播。玻璃一样透明的石膏五彩缤纷，汹涌而来的快乐与众不同。过去的建造者和赞助商以营造出永垂不朽的形象为骄傲，并认为那才是高贵典雅，我们则给出不同的定义。我们的骄傲在于可以随心所欲使用砖块石头，只在建筑中停留片刻。我们的后代可能在云端或地上生活，我们不是为了他们而建筑，我们是为自己，更确切地说是自己的需要。我们按照自己的意愿拆除重建，在破坏中产生创造和生产的冲动。我们鼓励新发现，提倡新创造。

牛津街的宫殿忽视了希腊、伊丽莎白时期和18世纪贵族建筑的长处；直到他们设计出能完美展示梳妆盒、巴黎洋装、廉价袜子和罐装浴盐的建筑，直到他们设计出宫殿、宅第、汽车，直到他们设计出装有留声机、无线电和电影的别墅，供克罗顿和索比顿的店员居住，他们才彻底意识到这一切都将会消逝。因此他们出乎意料地把石块展开，再以希腊、埃及、意大利和美式的狂野将它们压到一起，大胆尝试富丽奢华的风格，努力说服大众这种建筑其实美得无与伦比。这里总有新奇好玩的东西，价格低廉，轻松易得，好像一口看不到尽头的深井每天都冒出气泡。在牛津街，没有比考虑年龄、稳定和持久再奇怪的事情了。

因此，如果卫道士决定下午沿着这条奇特的大道走走，他应该做好准备听到一些古怪不协调的声音。在这里能听到有人在火车和公交车上狂欢高叫。卖乌龟的人说，天知道，我手臂疼；我几乎卖不出乌龟；但要振作！可能马上就有顾客来了；我今晚有没有地方睡觉可全指望它了；如果警察允许，我就推着乌龟沿牛津街走上一整天。做大买卖的商人说，说实话，我没想过要向大众普及高级美感；我绞尽脑汁才明白怎么能浪费最少，效果最好地展示我的商品；把绿龙雕在科林斯柱的顶端可能会有所帮助。中产阶级女士说，我认为，我总是闲逛，这看看那看看，随便花钱，讨价还价然后换来一篮又一篮的零料；我知道我两眼放光的样子并不得体，贪婪抢购的行为让人讨厌，但我丈夫不过是银行的小职员；我一年只有十五英镑的置装费；所以我到这里来，到处闲逛，看看我能不能打扮得像邻居那样。我是一个小偷，即使客人不注意的时候，从柜台上抢走手袋也需要很大的勇气；毕竟那里面可能只有眼镜和用过的公交车票。现在就去！

牛津街总是回荡着成千上万诸如此类的声音。一切都紧绷着，一切都是真实的，一切都来自被谋生压力所迫的人无法自抑的倾诉。他们要活着，要找个睡觉的地方，但却不得不无休止地在街上流浪。有人会设想，即使卫道士也要承认，这条俗气、吵闹、粗野的街道提醒我们生活就是战斗；所有的建筑都终会消失，所有的东西都是虚无。从此我们也许可以得出结论——除非聪明的店主心领神会，为孤独的思想者开设悬挂绿丝绒并且有萤火虫和骷髅飞蛾飞来飞去的房间以便进行思考和反省，否则在牛津街任何追求结论的努力都将只是徒劳。

工　艺

这个系列的主题是“无法用语言准确表达”，而这篇演讲题为“工艺”，因此，我们认为演讲者想要讨论文字运用技巧——作者的工艺。但是“工艺”这个词应用在文字上，多少有些矛盾和不和谐。平时，每当我们困惑不解时就求助英文词典，但是这次它却加深了我们的困惑。词典上说“craft”这个单词有两个含义：第一个含义是利用材料制作实物——比如，锅、椅子、桌子。第二个含义是诱骗、狡猾和欺诈。现在我们对文字知之甚少，知道的只是——虽然文字不能制造任何实物，但是它却可以分辨真伪。所以，讨论文字关联的技巧就要把两个相互矛盾的概念结合起来，这样大概就可以形成能被博物馆收藏在玻璃罩后面的珍奇宝贝一样的东西。因此，我们有必要更改演讲题目，也许可以换成另一个——文字漫谈。去掉演讲，就好像被砍掉脑袋的母鸡，一直绕圈跑，直到最终死掉——人们把这种人称为母鸡杀手，把这种行为称为无起始演讲的过程或循环。然后让我们回到原点，文字无用。幸好这点众所周知，无须证明。举个例子，当我们去乘地铁，在月台等车，前方悬挂着一块亮灯的招牌，上面写着“经过罗素广场”。我们看到这些文字，自己不断重复，试着表达出脑海中真实的印象：下一列车将经过罗素广场。我们以“经过罗素广场，经过罗素广场”这样的速度一遍又一边地重复。然后一说出来，这些文字就混在一起开始变化。我们发现自己重复说着“一切都消失，消失……树叶枯萎凋落，雾气弥漫。有人出现……”突然清醒过来的时候，发现已经到了国王十字车站。

再举个例子。我们对面的车厢上写着“不要探身窗外”。开始，通过阅读可以了解实际的用途，也就是表面的意思；然而不久，我们坐下来，再读这些文字，发现它们开始混合变化。我们开始说“窗，是的，就是窗——在失掉了的仙域里引动窗扉[1]”。不知不觉，我们就已经探身窗外；去寻找在异邦的谷田里因想家而落泪的露丝[2]。这样做不是被罚二十磅就是脖子被折断。

如果非要证明，以上的两个例子已经证明了文字天生无用。如果我们坚持并强迫它们违背本性变得实用，将会付出代价。代价就是我们会被文字误导和愚弄，就好像脑袋被重重地打了一下。文字总是用这种方式愚弄我们，因为它们试图证明它们的本性如此，不愿变得实用，只愿意表达一个简单的意思而非许许多多的不同含义——它们总是这样做。好在我们终于开始直面这个问题。我们开始创造另一种语言——一种可以完整优美地表达实用信息的语言，即符号语言。某位无名氏在米其林饮食指南中留下了对酒店的评价——不管这位无名氏是男是女，还是无人知晓的神秘力量——我们所有人都要感激他对符号语言的强大灵活的运用。如果他想告诉我们这家酒店一般，另一家不错，还有一家最好，他要怎么做呢？不需要文字；文字会立刻让人联想到灌木丛、撞球台、男男女女、缓缓升起的月亮和夏天海面上成片的水花——都是些美好的事物，但与主题无关。他选择用符号表达：一道墙，两道墙，三道墙。这就是他表达的，也是他需要表达的。贝德克尔借用了符号语言，并进一步使之成为一种高雅艺术。当他想表达一幅画很好，他给一颗星；如果非常好，两颗；如果对他来说是无与伦比的杰作，就会有三颗星在页面上闪闪发亮。符号语言就是这样。星星和匕首之类的符号简化了整个艺术批评和文学批评——当有人想进行简化的时候。但是这意味着作家需要在写作中同时使用两种语言；一种在现实中使用，一种在作品中使用。当自传家需要表述一个实用必要的事实，比如说，奥利弗·史密斯念大学，并在1892年获得第三名，他会在图五上画一个空心的圆圈。当小说家需要告诉我们约翰按响了门铃，不一会儿女仆打开了门，说“琼斯夫人不在家”，考虑到我们自身，他会更愿意运用符号而不是词语传达这个令人讨厌的信息——也就是说，在图三上写一个大写字母H。因此我们可以期待有那么一天我们的自传和小说都变得简洁有力。同时，用文字标注“不要探身窗外”的铁路公司会被处于不高于五磅的罚款，理由是没有选择正确的表达方式。

到那时，文字就会变得毫无用处。我们可以研究文字其他积极的特质，也就是表达真理的能力。通过查阅多部字典，我们发现至少有三种对真理的解释：上帝的绝对真理、学术真理和普遍真理（通常真实可信）。但是分别考虑三种真理要花费很长时间。那么就让我们把想法简单化，因为时间是检验真理的唯一标准，而语言最能经受时间变幻，所以语言是最真实的。建筑物会倒塌，甚至地球也终会毁灭。一切不过是沧海桑田，过眼云烟。但是如果运用恰当，文字好像可以永存。那么接下来，我们要问的是，应该如何恰当运用文字？我们说过，文字不表达实用信息，因为实用信息是只能表达一件事的信息。然而文字的本性就是表达多件事。以“经过罗素广场”这个被认为无用的简单句子为例，它除了表面含义，还包括了很多隐藏义。“经过”这个词暗示了事物的转瞬即逝，也就是时间的流逝和人事的变迁。“罗素”这个词暗示了树叶的沙沙声和光滑地面上的短裙，还有贝德福公爵宅第和英格兰一半的历史。最后，“广场”这个词让涂满石灰、轮廓分明的广场形象映入眼帘。因此，最简单的一句话也能唤醒想象、记忆、视觉和听觉——阅读的时候这一切都结合在一起。

然而，尽管它们结合在一起——哪怕这结合也是无意识的，一旦我们察觉到这些暗示，并加以强调，它们就变得不真实，我们也变得不真实了——我们变成了专家、文字游戏者、短句发现者，而不是读者。阅读的时候，我们要让隐藏义继续隐藏着、暗示着，不去挑明，任由它们游离，彼此沟通，好像河床上的芦苇。但是那句话里的词——经过罗素广场——毫无疑问都是非常基本的词。这些词不通过打字机而直接来自脑海。它们奇怪诡谲，充满力量，可以暗示出作家自身的一切，他的性格，他的外貌，他的妻子，他的家庭，他的房子——甚至壁炉前地毯上的猫。文字为什么要这样做，怎么做的，如何防止它们这样做？没有人知道。它们不以作者的意志为转移，总是和作者的意志相反。当然没有作家希望读者看穿自己的古怪秉性、个人隐私和怪癖。但是真的有作者，这里不是指打字员，可以做到完全客观吗？通常不可避免地，我们都会通过作品了解作者本人。文字具有如此强大的暗示作用，它们常常会把一本糟糕的书变成一个可爱的人，或是把一本好书变成一个我们很难原谅的人。即使是历史悠久的文字也具有这种能力；全新文字的暗示非常强烈，让我们感受不到作家的本意——而只是看到这些文字，听到这些文字。这是我们对在世作家的评价显得异常善变的原因之一。从某种程度上说，只有作家离世，他的文字才可以不受作家本身的影响，变得纯粹。

可以说，这种暗示的力量是文字最为神秘的属性之一。无论谁，哪怕只写过一句话，都会意识到或半意识到这一点。文字，或者说英语，自然而然地充满了回响、记忆和联想。多少世纪以来，它们出入于人们的唇齿之间，在住宅、街道和天地中穿梭。这也是今天书写文字的主要困难之一——它们包含了太多含义和记忆，缔结了许多著名婚姻。比如说，“殷红”这个词——谁会在用这个词的时候忘记随之而来的“一碧无垠的大海[3]”？当然，很久之前，当英文还是一门新的语言时，作家可以创造新词。现在创造新词也十分容易——每当我们看到新事物或者产生新的感受，新词就涌到唇边——可是我们不能这样做，因为文字有它的历史。不能在一门有历史的语言里使用完全新鲜的词，这一点显而易见却又有些神秘，因为词不是独立存在的个体，而是文字的一部分。如果不是句子的一部分，就不是一个真正的词。文字彼此相关，当然了，只有伟大的作家才会把“殷红”和“一碧无垠的大海”联系在一起。新词和老词的结合会对句子造成致命的打击。为了适当运用新词，必须要创造一门新的文字；毫无疑问，我们将成功，但那不是我们的当务之急。当务之急是我们能运用现在的英语做些什么。我们怎么把老词用新的顺序组合起来让它们重获新生，光彩再现，吐露真言，这才是问题所在。

如果谁能回答这个问题，他就有资格获得世上任何一顶荣誉的桂冠。试想，如果写作可教可学意味着什么？为什么每本书每份报纸都说实话，创造美？然而，教授文字的过程中会出现一些障碍和困难。因为即使此刻有百余位教授在进行关于过去文学的授课，千余位批评家在评论现在的文学，成千上万的年轻男女在进行学分比例最高的英语文学考试，事情并没有发生改变——四百年前没有授课、批评、教学，我们比那时写得更优美，读得更明白吗？我们现在所处的乔治时期的文学比维多利亚时期的文学好得多吗？事实如此，我们应该责备谁呢？不是教授，也不是评论家，更不是作家，而是文字。该责备的是文字。在所有事物中，文字最为不羁、自由、不受束缚、无法教授。当然，你可以捕捉文字，进行分类，并按照字典里的字母表排列顺序。然而文字不在字典里，在脑海中。如果你想证明这个，只要想想我们需要文字表达情绪的时候总是找不到合适的表达就清楚了。虽然有字典，字母表中有大概五百万个词任凭我们使用，但是我们能灵活运用吗？答案是不能，因为文字不在字典里，而在脑海中。再看一遍字典。毋庸置疑，没有比《安东尼和克里奥佩特拉》更辉煌的戏剧；没有比《夜莺颂》更优美的诗歌；除了《傲慢与偏见》或是《大卫·科波菲尔》几部小说之外都是业余爱好者的粗糙拙劣的作品。秘诀就在于找到正确的词语，并将其恰当排列。但我们就是做不到，因为文字不在字典里，而在脑海中。怎么让它们进入脑海呢？就像千人千面，文字也多种多样，不一而终，有的大相径庭差别迥异，有的一见如故和谐融洽。文字的确不像我们总是被仪式和会议束缚。贵族文字可以和平民结合。只要英语愿意，它可以嫁给法语、德语、梵文和黑人语。实际上，为了保护“她”的名誉，不要去探究亲爱的英语“母亲”的过去。因为“她”实在经历了太多次结合。

这种文字的漂移无可救药，根本无法制定相关规则。我们所能规定的就是一些微不足道的语法和拼写原则。当我们在幽深漆黑偶有光亮的洞穴边缘向内窥探它们的住处——脑海——我们能说的就是它们喜欢人们在运用前先去思考和感受，但不是思考和感受它们，而是别的。它们高度敏感，极易感到不自在。它们不喜欢被别人讨论纯洁与否。如果有人想创造一个纯洁的英语社会，它们就会创造出一个不纯洁的英语社会来表示抗议——也就是现代英语中不自然的语言暴力，这是对文字清教徒的反抗。它们还高度民主，相信每个词都有自己的优势，没学问的词和有学问的词一样好，粗俗的词和高雅的词一样好，在那个社会里没有阶级或地位之分。它们不喜欢被用钢笔划出来，个别考察。它们结合起来形成句子、段落，或是整篇文章。它们讨厌变得实用功利，讨厌在公共场合发表演讲。简而言之，它们讨厌任何把它们和单一含义结合起来或运用它们表达单一含义的行为，因为它们的天性善变。

也许这才是它们最令人惊奇的地方——它们渴望变化。为了表达捕捉到的不同真实而变得多种多样，一会儿这样，一会儿那样。因此同一句话在这个人看来是这个意思，在那个人看来是那个意思；这代人觉得难以理解，另一代人觉得像鲑鱼一样平凡简单。正因为这种复杂特殊性，文字才得以生存。我们这一代人中没有伟大的诗人、小说家，或是批评家，原因之一可能就是我们限制了文字的自由。我们只固定使用一个实用含义，这个含义可能会让我们赶上火车，也可能会让我们通过考试。然而当文字被禁锢，它们就收起了翅膀，默默死去。最后，也是最重要的，像我们一样，文字需要隐私，从而自由自在地活着。当然它们喜欢我们在运用前思考和感受；但是它们更喜欢我们稍事休息，哪怕只是片刻的无意识。我们的无意识成就了它们的隐私；我们的黑暗就是它们的光明……我们的思考停下来，世界垂下黑暗的面纱，此时把文字温柔地召集起来，促成它和完美意象之间的闪婚，成为永不褪去的美好。但是，不——不是所有一切都要在今晚发生。小家伙们闹脾气了，它们开始惹麻烦，不听话，装聋作哑。它们到底在低声说些什么呢？“时间到了！安静！”

[1][2]引自济慈《夜莺颂》，查良铮译。——译者注

[3]引自莎士比亚《麦克白》，第二幕，第二场。——译者注

传记艺术

1

传记艺术，虽然这样说——但是我们会立刻提出一个问题，传记是一门艺术吗？考虑到传记家曾带给我们的那些愉悦，这个问题显得有点愚蠢和狭隘。但是被如此频繁提及的问题背后肯定有些什么。不管何时打开一本崭新的传记，这个问题总会出现在书的每一页；难怪看上去有点死气沉沉，毕竟，传记里提到的人，有几个还尚在人世？

但是传记家认为，人们认为传记总是死气沉沉的原因在于传记与诗歌和小说这样的艺术相比还很稚嫩。对自己和别人感兴趣是人类头脑的最新拓展。在英国，直到18世纪，有关私人生活的描写才开始满足人们的好奇。直到19世纪，传记才发展成熟，所获颇丰。如果真的只有三位伟大的传记家——约翰逊、伯斯威尔和洛克哈特——是因为时间太短；传记艺术建立发展的时间相对较短的说法已被教科书认可。不过究其原因——为什么散文作家的出现晚于诗人若干世纪，为什么乔叟在亨利·詹姆斯之前出现——最好先把这些无人问津的难题放到一边，让我们去研究传记为什么缺乏杰作。原因是在所有艺术中，传记艺术所受的限制最多。对此有现成的证据。史密斯曾经给琼斯写过传记，他在书的扉页上向曾借给他信件的老朋友和“最后也是最重要的”遗孀琼斯夫人表示感谢。因为如果“少了她的”帮助，他这样写道，“这本传记将无法完成。”他在前言中简单指出，现在的小说家，“书中的每个角色都是虚构的”。也就是说小说家可以自由发挥；传记家却被限制禁锢。

如果是这样，我们就进一步接近了那个不仅难以回答而且可能无法解决的问题：将传记归类为艺术作品意味着什么？无论如何，传记和小说相互区别——组成内容的不同可以证明这点。一个是借助朋友的帮忙完成的作品，来源于事实；另一个是不受限制的自由创作，艺术家酌情选择有利于自己的内容去发挥。因此区别是存在的；我们有充分理由相信过去的传记家也发现了这一点。因为这不仅是区别而且是非常重大的区别。

对于传记写作来说，遗孀和朋友其实是非常严厉的监工。试想，比如，那个聪明男人的道德败坏，脾气暴躁到把靴子扔到女仆的脸上。他的遗孀会说：“尽管这样我还是爱他——他是我孩子的父亲；决不能让热爱他作品的广大读者理想破灭。要不换个说法，要不就干脆不说。”传记家只能屈从。因此维多利亚时期传记中的大部分形象都非常僵硬刻板，像被殡葬队伍搬运然后保存在西敏寺的蜡像一样——只是和棺材里的死者外形极为相似而已。

之后，19世纪末期传记艺术发生了转变。原因迄今不明，但是遗孀的思想变得更加开放，而大众的目光变得更加敏锐；蜡像一样的人物形象不再能够让人信服或满足人的好奇。自然而然地，传记家获得了相当的创作自由，表现在他至少可以暗示死者还有缺点和不足。弗洛德笔下的卡莱尔绝不是戴着玫瑰红色面具的刻板形象。弗洛德之后是埃德蒙高赛，他敢于承认他父亲也会犯错。然后紧接着埃德蒙高赛，就是在20世纪初叶出现的利顿·斯特雷奇。

2

利顿·斯特雷奇作为传记史上非常重要的人物，值得我们稍作停顿仔细研究。他的三本名著——《伟大的维多利亚时代》《维多利亚女王》和《伊丽莎白女王》，高水平地展示了传记的取舍。同时也回答了一些问题，如传记是否是艺术，如果不是，为什么。

利顿·斯特雷奇作为一位作家实在是生逢其时。1918年，他出版了第一本传记，灵活自由的风格备受关注。对于像他这样对自己创作诗歌或剧本的能力存在怀疑的作家来说，传记写作似乎是一个大有前途的选择。因为归根结底，传记是记录逝者的生平。维多利亚时期盛产如同石膏雕塑一般的光辉形象，实际情况被严重扭曲。为了重现事实，呈现他们真实的模样，正需要和诗人或小说家同样的艺术天赋，而不是他自认缺少的原创能力。

事实证明传记写作非常值得一试。在《伟大的维多利亚时代》的创作过程中，他既饱受煎熬又兴致勃勃；这本书的成功可以证明他的笔触足以让曼宁、弗洛伦斯·南丁格尔、戈登和其他人重生，因为他们本就有血有肉。这些人多次成为舆论焦点。戈登酗酒是真事，或不过是杜撰而已？弗洛伦斯·南丁格尔是在卧室里还是客厅里接受勋章？尽管当时欧洲正处于硝烟战火之中，纷乱复杂，他依然激起大众的热情，去探寻名人生活的细枝末节。书中的描写痛苦和欢乐交织，十分精彩，因此他的书一版再版。

但是他也创作了一些着重人物形象刻画的短小文章。在描写伊丽莎白和维多利亚两位伟大女王的生活时进行了更为大胆的尝试。这是传记从未有过的展现其作为的好机会，可以充分表现自己。现在机会就在眼前，他用所有自由灵活的创作赢得了这个机会。他的表现十分无畏，因为他已经证明了自己的才能非常卓越，完全能够胜任这项工作。结果是，传记的本性变得更加明显。有人在几次阅读之后还会质疑，难道两者相比，《维多利亚女王》获得巨大成功，而《伊丽莎白女王》则是惨败吗？其实如果我们这样比较，并不是利顿·斯特雷奇的失败，而是传记艺术的失败。在《维多利亚女王》中，他把传记当作一种技巧，甘受限制。在《伊丽莎白女王》中，他把传记当作一门艺术，打破束缚。

然而我们还要质疑这个结论的来源，有何依据。首先，对于传记家来说，为两位女王写传的难点明显不同。维多利亚女王的一切都为人所知。她的所作所为，甚至她的所思所想都人尽皆知。没有人能和维多利亚女王接受过的仔细验证和确切核实相比。传记家无法进行原创，因为每时每刻手边的资料都会提醒他的写作和历史不同。因此，创作《维多利亚女王》的时候，利顿·斯特雷奇妥协了。他将传记家甄选和关联资料的能力发挥到极限，但是严格控制在事实范围内。保证每句话都有依据；每个事实都有来源。事实证明他对老女王的生活描述，就像伯斯威尔对字典创始人的描述一样。利顿·斯特雷奇笔下的维多利亚女王是为众人认可的维多利亚女王，正如伯斯威尔笔下的约翰逊是现在普遍接受的约翰逊博士一样。其他版本终会消失不见。无疑，在此之前他已经取得了巨大的成就，不过他渴望更进一步。所以才创作出这样真实可信有血有肉的维多利亚女王。然而不容置疑的是她的形象仍然存在局限。传记难道无法拥有诗歌一般的热烈，戏剧一般的激情？传记的特点难道只能是尊重事实和实际取材吗？

伊丽莎白女王似乎是一个非常适合进行大胆尝试的题材对象。人们对她的事迹不甚了解。她所生活的年代久远，那个时代人们的风俗、想法甚至行为十分奇特。“我们运用哪种艺术才能进入这些奇怪的思想，或是潜入更奇怪的部分中？我们越清楚这点，那个奇特的世界就变得越遥远。”利顿·斯特雷奇在首页上写下这样的话。但是很明显，《伊丽莎白女王》是一段具有可塑性的悲剧历史，鲜为人知，所以惹人遐思。一切都非常适合写进书中，两个世界的优势集合在一起，赋予了艺术家极大的创作自由，并为创作提供事实依据——这本书不仅仅是一本传记，还是一部艺术作品。

尽管作家费尽心思，一切只是徒劳，因为事实和杜撰无法完美结合。伊丽莎白女王既不像维多利亚女王的形象那样真实，也不像克里奥佩特拉或孚斯塔夫那样富有戏剧性。原因似乎是，无人知晓——虽然他勇于创新，但是变得小有名气之后——他的创新却遇到了阻碍。因此女王身处一个位于事实和杜撰之间的模棱两可的世界。在那个既不抽象也不具体的世界，读者能感受到作家的茫然和努力，然而女王的形象十分中庸，毫不出彩，虽然没有任何批评，仍然算是失败。

如果判断正确，我们必须要承认传记自身存在问题：总是强加条件，条件就是必须要建立在事实基础上。我们说的传记里的事实是非艺术家也会认可的事实。如果像艺术家一样创作——不存在佐证无法对比的原创——并且试图将原创和事实结合起来，结果就是两败俱伤。

在《维多利亚女王》一书中，利顿·斯特雷奇似乎非常清楚地意识到这种条件的必要性，并且本能地屈从了。“女王的前四十二年，”他这样写道，“因为大量分门别类的官方信息而变得光辉夺目，直到阿尔伯特逝世，她才褪去面纱。”随着阿尔伯特逝世，面纱褪去，官方信息派不上用场，他意识到传记家必须依照前例。“我们乐于进行简短概括，”他这样写道，最后的几年被概括介绍。但是伊丽莎白女王的一生远比维多利亚女王的最后几年更为神秘。因此，他不再进行简短概括，而是开始写一本书，这本书包含了奇怪想法和由于可靠信息的缺失而变得更为奇怪的部分。以他当时的能力来说，这种大胆的尝试注定失败。

3

因此，每当传记家抱怨，说自己被朋友、信件和文件束缚时，其实不过是指出了传记创作不可避免的因素，当然也是不可避免的限制。因为原创人物生活在一个只有作家自己了解的世界里。在那个世界里，事实的真伪完全取决于作家的想法。和由其他人提供的真实信息创造出的世界相比，在作家自己想法支配下创造出的世界更为珍贵、热情和和谐。因为这样的差距，两个世界里的事实无法融合，如果妄图结合就会造成两败俱伤。我们似乎可以得出这样的结论：没有谁能同时在两个世界称雄；你必须做出选择，然后接受自己的选择。

尽管如此，《伊丽莎白女王》这本书并非毫无价值，它的失败开启了新的成功，因为这是传记家倾尽全力完成的大胆试验。利顿·斯特雷奇如果还在人世，也会十分确信是自己拓展了传记原创这条道路。事实也是这样，他为我们指出了后人前进的方向。传记家服从事实——应该这样。但是，即便如此，他也有权利支配所有可供挑选的事实。如果琼斯的确把靴子扔在女仆脸上，有一个情妇住在伊斯林顿，或是一夜风流之后醉倒在水沟里，那么传记家就有权利将这些事实写进书里——只要诽谤法和人类情感允许的话。

但是这类事实和科学事实不同——科学事实一经发现，就保持不变。这类事实随想法变化而变化，想法则随时间变化而变化。现如今，通过心理学家举例说明，我们都知道关于罪恶的思考可能是种不幸；或是种好奇；或两者皆非，不过是不值一提毫不重要的琐碎之事。人们对性的想法也不断变化。这些变化使得大量消亡事物的毁灭模糊了人们的真实特征。过去经常出现的一些标题——大学生活、婚姻、事业——变得模棱两可，区别不大。很有可能的是英雄的存在方式改变了。

因此传记家要走在我们这些人的前面，像矿工肩上的金丝雀一样，检测气氛，探寻虚伪、不真实和过时习惯的存在。传记家必须能活跃而谨慎地感受周围的事实。必须重申的是，因为我们生活的时代有众多来自报纸、信件和日记的摄像头，从不同角度关注每一个方面，传记家必须准备好认识同一张脸孔的矛盾两面。传记家的视线会对准奇怪的角落，从而扩大观察范围。如果事实的来源广泛，传记的内容就会十分丰富，不会杂乱无章令人困惑。因为很多不为人知的事情现在为人们所了解，我们不禁扪心自问，是否只有伟大人物的人生才应该被记录？难道不是每一个曾经活过，并留下生活记录的人都值得写传记吗——不管他是失败还是成功，卑微还是显赫？此外，究竟什么是伟大？什么是渺小？传记家必须修正我们关于美德的标准，树立新的值得崇拜的英雄形象。

4

因此，传记的发展刚刚起步。我们可以肯定的是它还要面临漫长的积极的发展道路——途中会遇到困难，危险和艰苦。不管怎样，我们还可以肯定的是和诗歌小说的发展道路不同——传记的更为紧张刺激。因此传记作品注定不会不朽，尽管每位作家都希望自己的作品永垂不朽。

已有事实证明传记的发展不会如作家所愿。伯斯威尔笔下的约翰逊博士不会像莎士比亚笔下的孚斯塔夫一样长久。我们也几乎可以确定米考伯[1]和贝茨小姐[2]会远远胜过沃尔特·斯科特爵士笔下的洛克哈特先生和利顿·斯特雷奇笔下的维多利亚女王。因为原创人物的创作更为久远。丰富的想象力剥夺了易逝的事实的光彩；作家的创作素材本就优越，传记家却只能在字里行间写出这些终将消失的事实。几乎一切都要消失，只有个别得到留存。因此我们可以得出结论，传记家是工匠，不是艺术家；他的作品不是艺术品，而是模棱两可的中间产物。

如果浅谈传记，传记家的作品其实是无价之宝，虽然我们无法给予相同的感谢。我们无法生活在尽是丰富想象的世界里。想象很快就会疲倦，需要休息和提神。但是，对疲倦的想象力来说，最好的补给不是劣俗的诗歌或不入流的小说——这些会让想象力变得迟钝和堕落——而是“严肃的事实”，正如利顿·斯特雷奇在优秀的传记作品中向我们展示的那样。一个真实的人生活过的时代和地方，他如何观察，他如何打扮，他的日常生活如何，他的亲戚朋友怎样，他的爱人怎样，他何时去世，去世时是不是像一个基督教徒一样躺在床上，等等。

传记家告诉我们这些真正的事实，从大事中发现细微，进行概括总结，这样我们就了解了全部。其实传记家比任何诗人或小说家更能启发想象力。因为很少有诗人和小说家可以承受向我们提供事实的巨大压力。但是几乎每一个传记家，如果他尊重事实，都能提供给我们很多事实，丰富我们的知识储备。传记家告诉我们一些事实，这些事实可以创新，可以发挥作用，可以提示和发展。对此有确切证据。就像读诗或读小说会产生共鸣一样，我们读完传记后将它搁置一旁，会发现一些场景还是非常鲜明，人物形象还在脑海深处栩栩如生，就好像我们回忆起往事。

[1]狄更斯《大卫·科波菲尔》中的人物。——译者注

[2]简·奥斯汀《爱玛》中的人物。——译者注

对当代文学的印象

当代读者一定会对此印象深刻：同一时刻两位评论家坐在同一张桌子旁边，却对同一本书产生了截然相反的态度。一方面，这本书被认为是一本英文散文杰作；同时另一方面，如果有助于燃烧，它就是一厚叠理应被扔入火中的废纸。然而这两位评论家对弥尔顿和济慈持相同观点。他们如此表现是因为自身的敏锐感受和毋庸置疑的由衷热忱。只有当他们讨论当代作家的作品时，才会不可避免地起争执。引起他们争论的这本书不过出版了两个月左右，一位评论家认为它对英国文学的影响不仅立竿见影，而且很可能长期持续；另一位评论家则认为这本书不过是胡乱拼凑的无稽之谈。下面会解释为什么两者得出的结论不同。

此解释让人费解。读者和作家都一样为难；读者想在混乱的当代文学中找到方向；作家则自然而然地想了解自己在几乎一片漆黑中费尽心思创作出的作品是否有可能在英国文学的名家中崭露头角，还是正相反，被人置之不理付之一炬。但是如果先将自己定义为读者，去探讨读者的困境，我们就不会感到这样迷惑。类似的事之前也经常发生。甚至从罗伯特·埃尔斯米尔[1]开始，平均一年两次的春秋时分，我们都能听到学者们对新书的反对和对旧书的赞同。斯蒂芬·菲利普斯的书随处可见，然而即便这样，仍然有很多人并不喜欢。不过如果两位绅士观点一致，都认为布朗克的书是一本无可争议的杰作，我们就不得不面对一个抉择，是否要花上十先令六便士的书费去支持他们的观点，这的确更让人惊讶和心烦。这两位都是著名的评论家，哪怕是脱口而出甚至是不假思索的意见，都会作为对英美地区文学的评论，被收录进严肃的散文专栏。

固有的愤世嫉俗会让我们对当代的天才人物产生狭隘的不信任感，我们会不知不觉说出这样的话：如果评论家观点一致，那只是说明他们无事可做。当代文学根本不值得花钱，一张图书馆借书卡足矣。因为问题依然没有解决，让我们直接向评论家提问。如今的读者对已去世的作家毫无敬意，却被一个问题困扰，尊敬已去世的作家是否与理解在世的作家息息相关，与此难道没有任何相关指导吗？快速调查后发现两位评论家都遗憾地表示并没有这样的人。他们的评价为什么和新书相关呢？当然不是因为那十先令六便士的书费。他们丰富的经验告诉我们一些过去因鲁莽行为而造成严重后果的例子；如果他们评论去世的作家，却对在世的作家大加赞赏，就犯了评论界的众怒，会丢掉工作，毁掉声誉。他们提出的唯一建议就是尊重并无畏地追随自己的直觉，不要受任何在世的评论家或书评作者的影响，更不要反复阅读过去的著作质疑自己的直觉。

正是因为这些人，我们不得不表明事情不总是如此。尽管具体内容不为人知，我们相信曾有一条定律或规律约束着广大的读者群众。并不是说杰出的评论家——德莱顿、约翰逊、柯尔雷基和阿诺德——一定会对当代作品作出完美的判断，尽管他们的评语不会永久地印在书上，也不会省去读者自省的问题。但至少他们的存在会产生集中影响。他们随意给出一些书评，不难想象仅仅这样就能压制餐桌上人们的意见分歧，却让现在的学术权威费尽心机也不得其解。不同的学派会一如既往地热烈讨论，但是每个读者心里都会有这样的想法，至少有一个人会接近文学的主旨：如果你允许他有瞬间反常，他会凭一己之力与永恒接轨，无视赞美和责备，逆风向前。但是说到成为一个评论家，性格要大方，时机要成熟。当代社会分散的餐桌，构成社会的种种思潮的追逐和漩涡，范围极大。值得我们期待的那个伟人到底在哪里？我们有书评作者但是没有评论家；我们有百万个能干正直的警察但是没有法官。有品位、有学识、有本领的人都在给年轻人讲学，都在为过去歌功颂德。但是他们灵活多产的笔触却总是让鲜活的文学组织干燥脱水变成小巧的骨骼。我们感受不到德莱顿那样的激情，也感受不到济慈那样温和天然的性情，或是他那样深远的洞察力和清晰的理智，或是柯尔雷基对诗歌的全身心投入，尤其是他作品中最常被人引用的伟大言论会在阅读时散发光热，正如书的灵魂一般。

对这一切，评论界也都慷慨大方地表示赞同。他们认为伟大的评论家极罕见。但是一旦他奇迹般地出现，我们如何支持，或者我们提供些什么？如果伟大的评论家本身不是伟大的诗人，那么他们一定得到了时代的哺育。有一些伟人已被平反，有一些学派被创立或毁灭，但是我们的时代已经到了贫乏的边缘，还没有谁一枝独秀技压群雄。没有什么大师，能够让年轻人骄傲自豪地成为他的学徒。很久之前哈代就淡出文坛；康拉德的才能带着一丝异国情调，这让他无法具有偶像般的影响力，虽然也被尊敬爱戴，但却有几分淡泊疏离。就其他人来说，尽管为数众多，极富热情，作品层出不穷，至今无人能对同时期的人产生影响，或是透过今天我们这个时代到达并不十分遥远的将来，成为我们津津乐道的不朽。如果我们进行一个世纪测试，看看现在英国出版的书一百年后有多少还会存在，必须要说我们不光在哪本书这个问题上存在分歧，更令人质疑的是是否会有这么一本书。这是一个支离破碎的时代。几节诗，几页书，到处都是的章节，这部小说的开头，那部小说的结尾，对最好的时代或者作家来说都是一样的。但是我们能留给后代几打零散的书页，或让那时的读者从所有摆在他们面前的文学里大海捞针一般挑出少得可怜的华彩篇章吗？这些就是评论家可以堂堂正正放在桌面上，和作为同伴的小说家和诗人一起讨论的问题。

开始时，悲观主义似乎足以克服所有阻力占到上风。是的，我们再重复一遍，这是一个贫乏的时代，诸多方面都可以证实它的穷困潦倒；但是，坦白地说，如果将两个世纪作比较，结果十分明显，我们被狠狠压倒。《韦弗利》、《远游》、《忽必烈汗》、《唐璜》、赫兹里特的散文、《傲慢与偏见》、《海伯利安》和《自由的普罗米修斯》都出版于1800到1821年间。我们这个世纪不缺乏工业；但是如果说到杰作，不得不承认悲观主义者是正确的。正如努力的时代一定会继承天才的时代；宁静和刻苦的时代也一定会继承喧嚣和奢靡的时代。当然，这些牺牲了自己不朽的机会而建筑井然有序的房屋的人们理应得到荣誉。但是如果我们说到杰作，何处可寻？我们知道有一些诗可以长存；济慈、戴维斯、德拉梅尔、劳伦斯，他们的诗当然拥有辉煌的瞬间，但是和长存不同。毕尔勃姆在他的领域是完美的，但那不是一个很大的领域。《遥远的过往》中的篇章无疑将会流芳百世。《尤利西斯》带来了值得纪念的伟大变动——十分大胆，剧烈变动。于是，我们挑挑选选，这样那样地摘出一些，拿出来展示，却感到被排斥或嘲笑，最后不得不同意评论家的反对意见，这的确是一个缺乏一贯努力的时代，到处都是凌乱的碎片，根本无法与之前的那个时代相提并论。

这些说法盛行一时，我们也屈从于说话者的权威，然而却非常清楚有些时候我们连自己也无法相信。再重复一遍，这是一个贫乏枯竭的时代。我们不得不满怀嫉妒地回顾从前。但是同时，这也是初春晴朗的一天。生活总是不乏色彩。就连电话，总是打断严肃对话缩短重要观察的电话，也别有一番情趣。虽然人们不经意的对话很难永垂不朽，但是在一个有灯，有街，有房子，有人们，或美丽或奇异的背景下倾吐心声，这一切交织在一起本就成为永恒。但这是生活；而我们谈论的是文学。我们必须试图将两者分开，反对悲观主义的优越合理，支持乐观主义的鲁莽叛乱。

我们的乐观大体上说来自本能，来自晴朗的天气、美酒和畅谈，来自生活每日赐予的财富和最健谈的人也表达不出的启示。尽管我们尊敬爱戴死者，我们还是更喜欢生活本来的样子。就算我们可以选择生活在过去的任何时代，眼下也总有一些东西是我们不愿意交换的。当代文学尽管有不足和缺点，却还是那么富有魅力，那么吸引我们，就像一个我们每天都批评斥责却无法失去的亲人。它具有一种和蔼可亲的品质，这一点和我们自己，我们的作品以及我们生活的地方很相似。它并不居高临下，与我们保持距离，从外部审视，也没有像我们这代人如此强烈地怀念同时代。我们和先人被生生割裂开来。规模上的变化——几世纪以来一直在适当位置的群体突然下跌——从上到下动摇了组织结构，把我们和过去割裂开来，可能使我们太过清楚地意识到自身所处的现在。每天我们发现自己忙着，说着，或者想着对父辈来说不可能的事情。我们感觉到比起已经被完美诠释的相同点，不同点还没有引起相当多的关注。新书吸引我们去阅读，有几分希望它们能够反映我们重新变化的态度——这些场景、想法以及明显不和谐的偶然组合用一种强烈的新奇感影响了我们——并且，就像文学一样，回到我们的管辖范围，完整且便于理解。这的确是乐观主义的所有理由。我们这个时代拥有许多愿意表达将他们和过去割裂的不同点的作家，他们不愿表达将他们和过去连接的相同点，这些作家比任何其他时代的都更多。提起任何一位的名字都可能会惹人不快，但是即便是最肤浅的读者，只要对诗歌、小说或是传记稍有留意，就一定会对我们这个时代的勇气、真诚，简单地说，其广泛的原创性印象深刻。但是我们的快乐被莫名其妙地剥夺了。很多书都给我们一种承诺无法实现、知识贫乏、生活里被攫取的光彩却没有转化为文学的感觉。当代作品中的佼佼者往往来自压力下的记录或潦草的速记，当人物在场景里出现，他们的行为和表情就会被以惊人的才华保留下来。但这些场景总是一闪而过，对此我们非常不满。快乐有多深，烦恼就有多重。

无论如何，我们回到了起点，在两端之间摇摆不定，这一刻还是狂热，下一刻就变成悲观，无法得出任何有关我们当代文学的结论。我们曾向评论家寻求帮助，但是他们觉得这件事不值一提。现在，正是通过咨询过去的杰作，接受他们的建议，修正这些极端的时候。我们感觉自己不得不这样做，不是被冷静的判断驱使，而是急切需要把我们的不稳定寄托在他们的稳定上。但是，说实话，今昔对比带来的震撼一开始令人不知所措。毋庸置疑，名著多少有些沉闷。华兹华斯、斯科特和奥斯汀的书中满是无所谓的平静，平静到让人想睡觉。他们忽略出现的机会，无视积聚的色彩和细节。他们看上去十分从容，不去满足被当代人快速累积的感官：视觉、听觉、触觉——尤其是，人类自身的感觉，他的深度，想法的多样性，他的复杂性，他的困扰等等，简言之，人本身。华兹华斯、斯科特和奥斯汀的书中对这些表现得很少。让我们逐步产生并愉快彻底地征服我们的安全感从何而来呢？这力量来自他们的信仰——加在我们身上的他们的信念。这一点在哲学诗人华兹华斯的身上体现得非常明显。闲适的斯科特也是一样，他总是在早餐之前草草几笔写出惊世之作。至于那位内向的未婚女士，则是在安静中单纯为了愉悦自己悄悄进行写作。这两位身上有一点相似，那就是都相信生活是平稳的。他们具有自己的行为判断。他们了解人和人之间以及人和世界之间的关系。他们可能都不会说出非常绝对的话，但是一切都依附其上。我们发现我们只是在表达信念，其他的一切都从它而来。只有信念，举个简单的例子，我想起最近出版的《沃森一家》，一个美丽的女孩出于本能想去安慰一个在舞会上被冷落的男孩，即使你觉得这样绝对合理，你也可能不会让一百年后的人们有同样的感觉，但是你会让他们感觉到文学。因为那种确定性是创作作品的条件。相信你的感觉能抓住一些对别人有益的东西，就可以从个人的限制束缚中解脱出来，像斯科特一样自由，充满热情地去发掘迷住我们的这个新奇浪漫的世界。这也是简·奥斯汀作为一个伟大作家所擅长的神秘加工过程的第一步。选择曾经的经历，深信不疑，置之事外，然后准确地安排好位置；她非常自如地把这一切完成，使之成为文学的完整状态，整个过程不会向分析家泄露任何秘密。

当代作家让我们苦恼，因为他们没有信念。即使他们中最真诚的作家也只会告诉我们他自己身上发生了什么。他们无法创造一个世界，因为他们不能自如面对其他人。他们不会讲故事因为他们不相信故事是真实的。他们不会归纳。他们只依靠自己的感官和情感，尽管的确非常真实，而不愿依靠提供模糊信息的知识。他们被迫不去使用最具威力和技艺最精巧的武器。尽管坐拥英国文学的全部财富，他们却只是快速翻过一本又一本书。他们匆匆写下从外部观点选定的一个新鲜角度，热情地记下一闪而过的光芒，这点亮了什么？瞬息的光彩可能什么也不是。但是评论家在其中干涉，带着几分正义感。

如果这个描述站得住脚，如他们所言，并且不像可能的那样，完全依赖我们在桌边的位置和相当单纯像芥末瓶和花瓶一样的个人关系，那么评判当代文学的风险要比从前更大。如果他们远离目标也是情有可原的。就如马修·阿诺德建议的那样，从当今燃烧的区域退回到过去安全的平静更好。“我们进入一片燃烧的区域，”马修·阿诺德写道，“就在我们走近距离不远的那个时代的诗歌，拜伦、雪莱和华兹华斯的诗歌里面的价值评判不只是个人的，还是满怀热情的个人。”他们让我们想起，这些话写于1880年。他们提醒我们，注意观察放在显微镜下的丝带，尽管它如此短小，却看起来绵延不绝；如果我们毫无作为，事物就自己分类；节制和研究经典得到推崇。不仅如此，人生短暂；不久即将庆祝拜伦百年诞辰。此刻迫在眉睫的问题是，他到底有没有和他的妹妹结婚？总结一下，就是——如果的确任何一个结论都有可能的话，当每个人现在都说话，时间在不断流逝——对如今的作家而言，放弃创作杰作的希望似乎较为明智。他们的诗歌、喜剧、传记和小说不是书而是笔记。时间，好比一位优秀的老师，会手把手地教导，指出他们的缺点、草率和不足，把作品全都撕碎；但是他不会扔进废纸篓中。他会一直保留，因为别的学生会发现非常有用。未来的杰作出自今天的笔记。正如评论家刚才所说的，文学历史悠久，历经变革。尽管一些小争端可能搅得海面波涛汹涌，让小船不得安宁，但过分夸张它们的重要则显得目光短浅心胸狭隘。狂风暴雨不过是表面现象，平和隽永才是本质。

对于评论家来说，他们的任务是评价当代的新书，我们承认这些评价会有几分艰涩难懂，常常令人心生不快。我们希望评论家们给当代文学予以鼓励，对那些将要偏离正道或消失的作品则要谨慎颁发花环和桂冠，免得让它们在半年后就显得荒谬。让评论家们更加自由，更加客观地对待当代文学和作者，置身其中，共同努力完成当代文学这座伟大的建筑，尽管可能个别工人的名字不详。希望他们重重关上门，尽管门的那一边温馨和谐，可以享受无数物美价廉的食物，哪怕只有一次，不再讨论那个令人兴奋的话题——拜伦是否和他的妹妹结婚——然后，离开我们坐着闲谈的桌子，哪怕离开一点，聊一些和文学本身有关的话题。如果他们要离去，我们要尽一切努力挽留，让他们想起那位瘦削的贵族女士，赫斯特·斯坦霍普夫人。她在马棚养了一匹乳白色的马，为的是有一天救世主能够骑上她的马在山顶鸟瞰世界，一览美景。虽然她等得心急如焚，但一直相信救世主总会出现，因此她从未放弃等待。评论家应该向她学习；认真感受现在，观察过去和未来之间的联系，为即将到来的杰作做好准备。

[1]《罗伯特·埃尔斯密尔》是英国小说家汉弗莱·沃德夫人创作的著名小说。——译者注

为什么

《吕西斯特拉忒》的第一期出版了，我承认对它十分失望。它纸张华丽，印刷精美，看上去十分成功，尽善尽美。我一页页地翻着，感觉好像财富突然降临到萨默维尔。我本打算以消极的态度回应编辑的约稿请求，但值得欣慰的是，当我读到其中一位作者衣着简陋，另一位女作者毕业于实力和威望均很弱的大学时，我开始打起精神，许许多多迫切求解的问题涌上心头：“终于轮到我们了。”

和今天很多人一样，我也总是被许多问题困扰。我发现在街上很难不走走停停，有时可能就站在路中间，问为什么。教堂、酒吧、议会、商店、喇叭、汽车、空中飞机的嗡嗡声，和男男女女全都让我发问。然而，只向自己发问有什么意义呢？这些问题应该在公共场合公开提出。但是财富让公开提问变得非常困难。每个问题结尾处那个小小的弯曲的符号能让有钱人变得苦恼；权力和声望强烈反对它。因此，如果问题敏感、冲动或是有点可笑，则一定要仔细选择提问的场合。这样那样的问题被权力、荣华富贵和陈词滥调包围着慢慢枯萎。它们还没进入有影响力的新闻办公室，就在门口一批批死去。它们溜到了令人讨厌的不发达地区，那里的人们贫困潦倒，什么也给不了，无权无势，因此没什么可失去。一直困扰我让我想发问的问题，无论是对是错，如今都应该在《吕西斯特拉忒》中提出。它们说：“我们从没指望你会在……提出我们这些问题，”这里它们说出了一些最体面的日报和周报的名字；“也不是……”这里它们说出了一些最受人崇拜的机构的名字。“但是，感谢上帝！”它们大声说，“女子大学的学生不是又穷又年轻吗？她们不是热爱创新勇于冒险吗？她们不是正要创造一个新的……”

“编辑不准写女性主义。”我严肃地打断它们。

“女性主义是什么？”它们异口同声地喊出来，因为我没有立刻回答，它们又抛给我一个新问题：“你不觉得是时候创造新的……”

但是我打断了它们的话，提醒它们我只能写两千字。如果字数超过了，文章就会被退回来，重新修改。最后我提出了一个请求，我可以采用它们中最简单、温和和明显的一两个问题。比如，每当社团开始活动，或大学开学时频繁出现的问题——为什么讲课，为什么听讲？

为了好好提出这个问题，我会这样陈述，记忆会留住画面的鲜活，但正如伊丽莎白女王说过的那样，总有那么一个机会，虽然不常见但是永远不用过分悲伤，鉴于友情，或为获取法国大革命的相关信息，去听课是必要的。开始的时候，教室看上去让人摸不清头绪——既不让人坐下，也不让吃东西。墙上可能挂着一张地图。当然讲台上会有一张桌子，还有几排又矮又硬很不舒服的小椅子。椅子上面陆陆续续坐满了人，有男有女。不光椅子看上去有点勉强，听课的人也是这样。有些人拿着笔记本，轻轻敲着钢笔；有些人空手而来瞪着牛蛙般的大眼沉默地望着天花板。大钟无精打采；时间一到，一个满脸无奈的男人大步走进教室。他脸上没有常人的表情，取而代之的是紧张、虚荣，还看得出沮丧和不自信。这时教室内一阵骚动。因为他写过书，而观察写过书的人是非常有趣的，所以每个人都盯着看他。他头顶光秃秃的，没有一根头发，嘴唇和下巴也与常人无异；总之，就算他写过书，也看不出和别人有什么不同。他清了清嗓子开始讲课。人的声音具有多种功能：它可以使人着迷让人得到安抚，也可以勾起怒火让人感到沮丧；但是在讲课过程中，它只是让人心烦。他教授的内容其实非常合理，有学识，有论据，有推论，但是听着听着，注意力就涣散了。大钟看起来满脸惨白，指针也虚弱无力。莫非它们得了痛风，或是水肿？缓慢移动的动作让人想起一只三条腿的苍蝇痛苦地在冬天存活。平均有多少只苍蝇能在英国的冬天存活？如果发现自己出现在讲授法国大革命的课堂上，这样一只昆虫会怎么想？这么想完全是白费功夫。已经溜号了——那一段已经讲过去了，没必要让老师重复。他讲得非常吃力但却很坚持自我。要找到法国大革命的源头——苍蝇的想法也要找到。千里以外也能运筹帷幄是这门课程的目的之一。“略过这段吧！”我们向他提出请求——没用；他没有略过。这简直就是一个笑话。然后老师的声音再次响起，窗户好像需要清洗，有女人打了一个喷嚏；老师的声音开始变快，马上到结论了，然后——感谢上帝！——终于下课了。

生命如此短暂，为什么要浪费时间来上课？好几世纪前就发明了印刷，为什么他不打印讲义非要自己讲课呢？这样，在冬天的炉火边，或是夏天的苹果树下，我们都可以阅读，反复思考，并且讨论讲义；我们还可以斟酌疑难问题，彼此争论。我们会学得更好更深刻。如果讲课的话，老师不得不降低难度，时不时活跃气氛，以便吸引各种各样听众的注意，否则他们很容易去研究鼻子啊下巴啊，要不就是打喷嚏的女人还有苍蝇的寿命，讲义则无须这样的内容重复和难度降低。

我要说的是，外行可能不清楚，大学里设置讲课是大学规章制度的重要组成部分。但是为什么——另一个问题冲上前线——如果讲课是教育的必要形式之一，能不能取消它的娱乐作用呢？总是等到每年春天，迎春花盛开，山榉树变红，英格兰、苏格兰和爱尔兰的所有大学里焦急的秘书才贴出如泉涌般的告示邀请这样那样的人莅临，讲授有关艺术、文学、政治或者伦理方面的课程——这是为什么呢？

过去，报纸稀缺，一份报纸要在办公大楼和教区住宅间小心地传阅。这种情况下努力复习和传播思想无疑是非常必要的。但是现在，桌子上每天都散落着文章和小册子，里面的思想各种各样，比口口相传更为简洁，为什么还要坚持过时的传统？不但浪费时间和力气，还助长了人性的阴暗面——自负、虚荣、逞强和改变宗教信仰的意愿。如果你的长辈们是再普通不过的男男女女，为什么非要让他们变成道学先生和先知？如果你只关注他们头发的颜色和苍蝇的寿命，为什么要让他们在讲台站上四十分钟？为什么不让他们和你平起平坐，亲切愉快地对话，或者倾听？为什么不创造一个建立在贫穷和平等基础上的新型社会？为什么不把人们都聚集在一起，不论年龄和性别，也不论名人还是平民，这样大家可以不用走上讲台，不用朗读论文，不用非得穿昂贵的衣服或是吃昂贵的食物，只是单纯的交谈？难道这样一个社会，这样一种教育模式，不比过去读过的所有艺术和文学的相关论文更为优越？为什么不消灭道学先生和先知？为什么不让人们心灵相通？为什么不试试？

我已经说够了“为什么”这个词，我要纵容自己想想过去、现在和将来的社会大体特征。突然看到特里尔夫人取悦约翰逊博士、荷兰夫人和马考雷勋爵开玩笑的有趣画面，一阵喧哗甚嚣尘上，我几乎听不到自己思考的声音。然后喧哗的原因渐渐清晰。因为愚蠢的我不小心用了“文学”这个词。如果说只有一个词能让人发问并造成混乱，这个词一定是“文学”。他们叫喊着，提出有关诗歌小说和批评的问题，每个都希望自己被听到，每个都觉得自己的问题才是那个唯一值得回答的问题。最后，他们破坏了我脑海中所有关于荷兰夫人和约翰逊博士的美好画面。其中一个坚持认为就算他有点愚蠢鲁莽也要胜于他人，所以他应该优先。他的问题是，如果能自己读书，为什么要在大学里学习英国文学？我要说的是，提出一个已经得到回答的问题是非常愚蠢的——我相信，大学已经在教授英国文学了。不仅如此，如果我们要开始就此进行讨论，我们至少要写二十本书，但是我们只剩下大概七百字了。鉴于他十分急切，我想我还是会问这个问题，尽我所能，在下面这个对话片段里插入这个问题，并且不夹杂任何我自己的观点。

有一天我去拜访我的一位朋友，她的工作是审稿。当我走进房间的时候，觉得有点暗。但是，窗户开着，正是春天里的好天气，那么应该是精神上有点暗淡——我内心的恐惧和忧伤影响了我。不过在那之后，她说的第一句话让我更加害怕：

“哎，可怜的孩子！”她大声说，绝望地把正读着的手稿扔在地上。我问，她的亲友是不是在驾驶或登山途中发生了什么意外？

“如果你觉得以伊丽莎白时期十四行诗发展为主题的三百页手稿是个意外，那么就是了。”她这样说道。

“这就是全部吗？”我如释重负地回答。

“全部？”她反问，“这还不够吗？”然后，她一边在房间里走来走去一边大声说，“他从前是个聪明的男孩，值得一谈；从前他热爱英国文学。但是现在——”她耸耸肩好像无法用语言表达，悲愤和谩骂接踵而来。想到她每天读手稿的生活有多艰难，我就原谅了她，但是我没法和她一起讨论，我只知道这是一篇关于英国文学的文章。“如果你想教他们读英文，”她突然说，“教他们读希腊语”——如果要通过英国文学考试，就要对英国文学进行相关写作，而这一切注定了埋葬英国文学的毁灭性结局。“这个墓碑，”她继续说，“一定是一本……”这时我打断了她的话，让她不要再说类似的废话。“那你告诉我，”她一边说着一边紧握拳头站在那儿看我，“他们写的更好了吗？是诗歌变好了，小说变好了，还是批评理论比他们曾经讲授如何阅读英国文学时更好了？”好像为了回答自己的问题，她拿起被扔在地上的手稿读出其中的一段。“和其他段落一模一样！”她低声抱怨，厌恶地把手中的和其他手稿一起放在架子上。

“但是想想他们必须知道的一切，”我尝试着反驳。

“知道？”她重复我的话。“知道？你说知道是什么意思？”要立刻回答这个问题有点难度，所以我把它放在一边，然后说：“好吧，无论如何他们能以此谋生，并且教育他人。”听我这样说，她生气了，抓起写着伊丽莎白时期十四行诗的作品，把它们扔到了房间另一边。然后，这次拜访的其他时间都用于捡拾茶壶碎片了；那茶壶本是她外婆的东西。

当然现在还有很多其他问题叫嚷着要被提出；关于教堂、议会、酒吧、商店、喇叭和街上的男男女女；但是万幸的是时间到了，一切归于宁静。

读者和报春花

年轻人开始写作的时候，一般会得到看似有理有据其实完全不切实际的建议，比如必须尽可能写得简短清楚，摒除杂念，只表达脑中的想法。但却没有人在此之上补充一条必要信息：“一定要选择正确的读者。”这是一切问题的本质，因为书总是写给读者阅读的。读者不仅是衣食父母，还在不知不觉间，十分微妙地引导作家，激发写作灵感，因此读者是否合意非常重要。

但是即使找出了理想人选，他们难道不会花言巧语榨干作家大脑的精华，让作家写出最为强大多变的作品？时代不同，回答不同。大体上讲，伊丽莎白时期的作品供贵族和剧场大众阅读。18世纪的读者包括咖啡店智者和穷人街书商。19世纪，著名作家为半克朗杂志和有闲阶级写作。回顾并赞叹这些不同组合的伟大结果，和我们所处的困境对比，看上去一清二楚，简单得令人羡慕——我们应该为谁写作？因为现如今市场空前繁荣，读者种类繁多，令人迷惘，包括日报、周报、月报的读者，英国大众和美国大众，喜欢热销书的大众和偏爱冷门书的大众，品位高雅的大众和思维活跃的大众。现在的读者自我意识强烈，才能显著，愿意通过不同的渠道表达他们的需求和喜好。因此当作家看到肯辛顿公园里开放的第一朵报春花，他就要在落笔之前从众多读者中选择最适合他的读者。“不管谁来读，只考虑描写报春花”这样的话毫无意义，因为写作本身就是一种沟通方式；如果没人分享报春花的美，它就不过是一株不完美的报春花。第一个或者最后一个人可能会为自己而写作，不过那只是一个值得羡慕的特例。如果海鸥懂文学，我们也欢迎海鸥去读。

因此每个作家都应该为大众服务，高傲的人可能会说所谓的服务不过是向大众妥协，乖乖地接受别人的安排。道理似乎如此，却还是有很大风险。因为如果作家考虑到自己的读者，但却凌驾其上——这样的关系十分麻烦并不和谐，塞缪尔·巴特勒、乔治·梅瑞迪斯和亨利·詹姆斯的作品就是证明。作家既不屑大众，又想讨好他们；如果自己的作品没有赢得一致的好评，他就把自己的失败归咎于大众；他越想越气，觉得他的读者既没有品位也不友好，一定要让他们为自己的卑微和矫饰付出代价。而真正的代价就是报春花备受折磨，虽然还是明艳照人，但却变得有点畸形，一面萎缩另一面狂长。接触一点阳光可能会让它们好起来。我们应该跑到相反的极端（如果只是假设）接受《泰晤士报》和《每日新闻报》编辑故意提出的谄媚提案吗——“只需花二十磅即可订购专属你的报纸，它将于早上九点之前送达大不列颠的每个角落，并随刊附赠作者签名，像报春花一样在您的餐桌上准时绽放”？

但是单单一朵报春花就可以吗？它真的有可能美得如此炫目，以至于价格昂贵甚至还附带名字吗？显然媒体就是报春花的放大版。每年三月初黄色或紫色的报春花会在肯辛顿公园草坪中开放；如果我们仔细观察，不会觉得报纸上的文章和这些小巧的花朵有什么联系。但是正因为截然不同，在报纸上绽放的报春花更让人惊奇。它们充分利用空间，散发出金色的夺目光彩，不仅精致优美，还十分平易近人，令人如沐春风。没人会认为《泰晤士报》里“我们神奇的批评家”或《每日新闻报》的林德先生可以轻而易举写出众人喜爱的文字。也没有人会觉得让一百万人早上九点开动脑筋写出让两百万人感到身心愉快的文章是件卑鄙的事情。但是当夜幕降临，花朵全部枯萎；就像离开了大海的玻璃不再光辉闪烁，离开了舞台被困在电话亭中的女歌唱家的歌声也不再优美；只要失去了要素，再华丽的文章也不过如此。总而言之，如果内容陈旧迂腐，文章就会变得味如嚼蜡。

理想的读者群体能够帮助作家不让写作之花枯萎。然而，随着年龄变化，读者自身也产生变化；他既不能被浮夸的表面迷惑，也不能被花言巧语哄骗，而这需要绝对的正直和强烈的信念。真正的作家才能找到真正的读者；确定读者其实是在考验作家的判断力。因为知道为谁而写，才能明白怎么写。但是很多现代读者资质平庸。而现在，作家需要的明显是阅读习惯良好、不会三心二意的读者。同时，作家还要了解其他时代、其他民族的文学。不仅如此，我们所特有的劣势和当今的发展趋势还要求作家具备其他品质。比如，和伊丽莎白时期相比，当今文学的粗俗化更为严重，让我们十分苦恼。不过二十世纪的读者应该已经对此见怪不怪。读者应该能够正确判断，哪些是真正有好处的养料，哪些不过是虚张声势。他还要成为法官，不仅能够判断出对当代文学产生巨大影响的社会因素，还能区分有益的成熟观点和毫无用处的限制束缚。就算读者思绪万千情绪高涨，他往往只能一边强烈支持作家的多愁善感，一边害怕表白自己的想法。读者可能觉得不敢去想比想得太多还要糟糕。他也许还会进一步讨论语言，指出莎士比亚使用了多少词，或违反了多少语法。尽管我们故作优雅地翻阅钢琴上的黑色琴谱，依然无法改进《安东尼和克里奥佩特拉》。读者会说，如果你能连性别一起忘掉就更好了；作家没有性别之分。但是一切不过如此——简单却值得讨论。读者最大的优点就是和作家不同，他们运用简单的语言表达复杂的事物——气氛。读者要营造一种气氛，让报春花身处其中，备感重要；在这种情况下，对作品的误解是不可原谅的行为。读者要让作家产生这样的感觉：单单一朵真实的报春花就能让他感到满足；除了看书，他根本不想去听课，提升水平或了解自我；虽然有些歉意，他的要求还是让卡莱尔激动愤怒，让丁尼生悠闲自得，让罗斯金几近疯狂；他已经准备好接受作家的安排，隐姓埋名或是大出风头；作家和读者群体之间不只存在一种母性联结；他们其实是双胞胎，一损俱损，一荣俱荣；文学的命运取决于他们之间恰当的联盟，因为读者和作家的结合如此的完美——一切都会证明，正如我们在文章开始所提到的，选择读者最为重要。但是如何正确选择？怎么提高写作？这些都还是问题。

现代小说

在对现代小说的任何研究中，包括最自由灵活的研究，都会轻易得出现代艺术优于过去这样理所当然的结论。人们可能会说，虽然过去的工具简单，材料原始，菲尔丁也获得了成功，简·奥斯汀则更为成功，但是和我们的机会比比！他们著作中的简洁确实不可思议。然而，举个例子来说，文学和汽车制造毫无相似之处。人们怀疑，在过去的几个世纪中，尽管我们对机器制造了解很多，但是对于文学创作却知之甚少。我们的写作能力没有进步；我们所做的只能说是不断摸索，一会儿往这边，一会儿往那边；我们应该从制高点充分观察整个变化过程，找出其中的规律和趋势。不过没有必要立刻觉得我们失去了优势。平地之上，人群之中，我们泪眼迷蒙，心中满是羡慕，回望那些战士；他们更为兴高采烈，因为战争的胜利，他们取得了令人欣慰的成就；我们情不自禁地低语，相比起来，我们的战争更为激烈。文学史家为所有一切下结论，他们来判断现在是否是一个伟大的散文小说时代的开端，结尾还是过程，一般人则无法说清。我们只知道有些感谢和敌意会激发我们；有些道路通向肥沃的土壤，有些则通向灰烬和沙漠；无论如何，这一切都值得一试。

我们不会和古典作家起争执。如果我们说到威尔斯、贝内特和高尔斯华绥，在一定程度上他们本人存在的事实赋予他们的作品一些生活化的瑕疵，我们可以随意挑错。尽管他们的存在十分必要，我们还是更为看重哈代和康拉德，以及稍为逊色的著有《紫土》《绿色寓所》和《遥远的过往》的赫德逊。威尔斯、贝内特和高尔斯华绥曾经让许多满怀希望的人兴奋不已，却又让他们不断失望。因此我们的感谢主要是因为他们曾经让我们看到一种可能，虽然是他们并没完成的事情；然而这些事我们既做不来，也不想做。单独一个词不能表达我们对大量工作的控诉和不满，这些工作不仅数量浩大而且种类繁多，既让人赞叹又让人厌恶。如果我们试图用一个词来表达我们的想法，我们应该说这三位作家都是唯物论者。因为他们都不关注精神，而是关注物质，正是这一点让我们失望。我们觉得如果英国小说摒弃他们，哪怕走入沙漠也好，走得越快，对它的灵魂越有好处。自然，没有哪个词能直中三个独立目标的靶心。威尔斯明显没有射中靶心。他的例子暴露了他自身才能的缺点，那就是致命的想法和纯粹的创作激情混杂在一起。但是贝内特先生大概是三个里最过分的一个，因为迄今为止，他的写作手法最为娴熟。他的小说结构良好，有理有据，好像没有缝隙的窗框和没有裂痕的木板，就连最苛刻的批评家也挑不出什么缺点和纰漏。然而——如果生活不愿如此完美呢？这就是《老妇人的故事》的作者、乔治·卡农、埃德温·克雷汉格，以及其他一些人克服的难题。贝内特笔下的人物形象栩栩如生，种类丰富难以想象。但我们还是禁不住要问他们如何生活，他们为什么而活？这些人离开富人区豪华的别墅，在头等火车车厢里打发时间，那里有柔软的坐席，数不清的铃铛和按钮，触手可及十分方便。毫无疑问，这是一场奢侈的出行，就像在布莱顿那样的高级酒店寻欢作乐。我们说威尔斯是唯物论者不是因为他的作品结构精巧。他总想引起读者的心灵共鸣，以至于无法专注素材整合和结构架构。他之所以被称为唯物论者，纯粹是因为美好的心灵；他担负起本应由政府官员承担的责任，进行大量思考和构造，却没有时间去实现，或忽略了其重要性，使得人物形象十分粗糙。他笔下的琼和彼得会一直住在他造出的人间和天堂，有什么批评比这更糟糕呢？难道他们的人性缺点会让威尔斯特意描绘出的理想制度黯然失色吗？尽管我们对高尔斯华绥的正直和慈悲表示尊敬，我们能从他的书中找到我们的追求吗？

即使作家花费大量技巧和工程让转瞬即逝的细枝末节看起来真实持久，我们还是要为这些书别上唯物论者的标签，也就是说，这些书的内容并不重要。

我们不得不承认，我们非常苛刻挑剔，或者说，我们很难勉强解释或表达不满。每次我们都提出不同的问题。但每次读完一本书好像总是不断出现同样的深深叹气的画面——这本书值得读吗？有意思吗？人性不过偶尔出现小小偏差，贝尔特就全副武装，誓要捕捉生活里细微的错误，这样值得吗？这样的生活是不值得的，可能所有一切都不值得这样做。我承认用这样一个意象来说明自己的想法很模糊不清，但是像批评家那样只评判现实是无法改善情况的。既然承认思想的模糊性会干扰小说批评，我们就可以大胆猜测：此刻对于我们来说，小说形式更容易在流行潮流中迷失而非坚持自我追求。不管我们将之称为生活或精神，真理或事实，它已经开始消失或变化，不愿在我们的定义下继续发展。然而，我们却冥顽不灵，死不悔改，在完成越来越背离我们真正想法的计划之后，又继续构想了三十二章。花费如此大的精力来提高故事的合理性使之接近生活，不仅仅是白费工夫，更是南辕北辙。在错误的方向上即使再努力，写出的故事也不合理，毫无想法，看上去黯淡无光。作家不能随心所欲自我发挥，反而被一些权贵肆无忌惮地抑制，迫不得已构思一些情节，包括喜剧、悲剧、爱情故事，还有一种感觉——要让所有人将如此的完美铭记在心。如果他笔下的所有人物都活过来，他们会发现自己穿着当时的流行服饰，一个扣子也不系。作家开始妥协，导致小说写作出现了变化。但是，随着时间流逝，每当我们进行习惯性的写作，偶尔会对此怀疑或是突然产生叛逆心理。生活是这样的吗？小说必须这样吗？

经过深入洞察，生活似乎并不是“这样的”。仔细观察一下普通日子里普通人的大脑。大脑接收的无数印象——不管平凡普通，还是与众不同，都渐渐消失；有些则如钢铁般深深铭刻在心。它们像来自四面八方由无数原子构成的连绵不断的原子雨，无穷无尽连续不断地放射光芒；当它们接触地面，变成具体的星期一或星期二，重点也变得和从前不同；重要时刻既不是此刻也不是彼刻；因此，如果一位作家是自由人而非奴隶，如果他对创作具有选择权而非履行义务，如果他能将作品建立在自己的情感而非惯例之上，不再会有什么情节、喜剧、悲剧、爱情故事或是一般意义上的灾难性结局，大概也不会像庞德街的裁缝那样循规蹈矩地缝上每一个纽扣。生活不是一排被安排好的左右对称的马车车灯；生活是一圈闪耀的光晕，朦朦胧胧，从意识觉醒起就笼罩着我们，直到一切结束。不管生活表现出怎样的错综复杂，小说家的责任难道不就是用尽量熟悉的语言表达出时刻变化的既无法了解也无法限制的精神吗？我们不只是在为勇敢和真诚辩护；我们想表达的是，和惯例相比，小说的合适取材更能让人信服。

无论如何，我们寻求类似方式来定义区分几位年轻作家的作品性质，从前辈作家的角度来看，詹姆斯·乔伊斯最为出众。这些年轻作家试图接近生活，更为诚实准确地保留生活中吸引和驱使他们的东西。为了达到目的，他们不惜摒弃小说家习以为常的惯例。无数的原子光束在他们的脑海里迸发，看上去可能有些支离破碎毫无逻辑。让我们按照先后顺序记录下来，描绘出它们的形态，这样每个场景或时间的记录都是意识的记录。我们不要理所当然地认为生活在大事上比在小事上体现得更充分。《青年艺术家的画像》和《尤利西斯》是乔伊斯的两部作品，后者更为小型文艺批评杂志称道。如果有人读过这两本书，可能会随意揣测乔伊斯的内心世界和想法。就我们来说，摆在面前的一份残稿，比起已经完结的小说更为充满刺激。不论作家的想法怎样，作为读者我们可能会认为艰涩难懂或不甚乐观，然而毫无疑问的是他满怀真诚，这才是最重要的。和我们称为唯物论者的人们相比，乔伊斯是精神化的；他关注大脑深处传递信息的噼啪作响的火焰，为了让它持续不断地燃烧，他鼓起全部勇气无视对他产生威胁的一切：这一切可能是统一集合，或是在摸不到也看不到的情况下，很多作家借助过的用来帮助读者进行想象的标志物，比如，坟墓的景象、灿烂、肃穆、混乱和突然意味深长地闪烁的光亮。毋庸置疑，无论如何我们都在初次阅读时被触动了，必须承认他的作品是杰作。如果我们探寻生活的本质，我们就一定会产生共鸣。的确，如果我们试图表达其他的想法，我们会发现自己的摸索十分笨拙。如果我们非要举有名的例子，因为某种原因，这样富有原创性的作品却无法与《青春》和《卡斯特桥市长》相提并论。失败的原因是作家相对贫瘠的思维，我们本可以这样简单概括，然后结束这个话题。但是我们还可以更深入一点，试想我们是否不应该把存在的感觉比作明亮却狭窄的房间，因为如果这样就意味着思想被关着，被限制着，并不是开阔自由的。这样想会抑制创新能力吗？这样想难道不会让我们感受不到快乐或宽容，从而只专注自身，不接受或创造自身以外或超过自身的事物吗？也许这样说有点说教意味，但是说教能影响乖僻孤立的事物吗？抑或是对现代人来说，无论怎样努力创新，比起指出已拥有的，感受所缺乏的更为简单？无论如何，不仔细观察“想法”是错误行为。如果我们是作家，所有的想法都是合理的，因为每一种想法都会正确表达出我们想要表达的思想；如果我们是读者，每一种想法都引领我们更靠近小说家。这样做的好处就是离我们口中的生活越来越近。阅读《尤利西斯》不意味着排斥或忽视了生活的主流，翻开《斯坦恩项狄传》或《潘丹尼斯》也不会感到冲击，这些书让人感到生活多种多样，丰富多彩。

然而，现在摆在小说家面前的问题是，我们假设这个问题过去也存在，创造可以自由取舍的氛围。他必须有勇气说出吸引他的不是“这个”而是“那个”，他必须只用“那个”完成自己的作品。现代人看来“那个”，也就是兴趣点，非常可能隐藏在心底深处。因此，一旦重音变得略微不同，附加在某些事物上的强调就被忽视了。不同的形式纲要变得必要，而我们很难去把握，我们的前辈无法理解。现代人中，大概只有俄罗斯人，会觉得柴科夫写出的《古谢夫》的故事很有趣。故事描写一些俄国士兵乘轮船回国，在船上生病。我们通过他们的对话和内心活动的只字片语了解剧情：他们中间的某人死去并被运走；其他人的继续对话让我们知道古谢夫死了，他看起来“像胡萝卜或红萝卜”，然后被扔到船外。这部小说的重点在于出乎意料的场景。首先整个故事看起来好像没有重点，然后，就像当眼睛适应房间里微弱的光亮并认出物体的形状一样，我们逐渐意识到这个故事是多么的完整，伟大和真实，那正是柴科夫想要表达并描述的。把这样，那样，和其他的想法一起排列组成新的东西。但是我们不能说“这是喜剧”，或“那是悲剧”，我们也无法确定，因为我们知道的是短篇故事应该简洁，结局应该明确，如果不是这样，如果情节含糊不清，结局不明确，根本不能称之为短篇故事。

即使对现代英语小说做简单的评论，也无法跳过俄罗斯小说的影响。如果提到俄罗斯人，有人会觉得想要胜过他们完全是浪费时间。如果我们想理解灵魂和心灵，还有什么地方具有同样的深度呢？如果我们厌倦了自身的现实主义，俄罗斯最普通的小说家也对人文精神有着与生俱来的自然而然的敬意。“学着深入群众……但是别让这种同情留在脑中——尽管这样做很容易——留在心中，满怀爱意。”我们在每一位伟大的俄罗斯作家身上都可以找到圣人的特征，比如对他人苦难的同情，给予别人的爱，尽全力达到一些对道德要求极为苛刻的目标。他们中的圣人让我们对自身不虔诚的平庸感到惊慌，我们的著名小说也显得华而不实，故作玄虚。因此，俄罗斯作家的想法不可避免地成为对悲伤的极大理解和同情。的确，更确切地说，我们可以说是俄罗斯小说的未决性。这种感觉没有答案，如果被检视的生活变成一个又一个必须搁置从而不断发出回响的问题，故事以绝望的疑问结束，我们深深感受到令人厌恶的沮丧。也许他们才是正确的；毫无疑问，他们比我们看得更远，也没有我们严重的视力障碍。但是也有一种可能，我们会看到他们看不到的东西，不然为什么抗议的声音中夹杂着我们的忧郁？抗议的声音是另外一种来自远古文明的声音。远古文明赋予我们本能，去享受并且抗争，不去苦恼或理解。从史特恩到麦勒迪斯的英国小说都见证了我们与生俱来的才能，不管是幽默和喜剧，还是地球的美好，不管是智慧的活跃，还是身体的光彩。但是我们从两本小说的比较中得出的所有推论都远远比不上或胜过他们对我们造成的艺术影响。我们知道世界上没有限制，没有什么——没有“方法”，没有试验，甚至最为狂野的试验——会被禁止，除了虚伪和做作。“小说的合适选材”并不存在；一切都适合写成小说，每个感觉，每个想法，大脑的每项特质和振作的精神，任何知觉都不会出错。如果我们发挥自己的想象力，想到小说中的艺术人物有了生命，站在我们中间，毫无疑问的是她既会被我们损害欺凌，也会被我们推崇热爱，因为只有这样才能让她焕发生命力，才能让她拥有真正的自己。

应该如何阅读

首先，我想强调一下题目中的问题。即使我能回答这个问题，答案也是针对我而不是你。能给予他人的读书建议就是不要采纳任何建议，听从自己的直觉，运用自己的判断力，得出自己的结论。如果我们就此达成一致，我才能随心所欲提出一些观点和想法，因为你不会盲从或是束缚自己的独立思想。而独立思想对读者来说是最重要的品质。到底有什么条例可以规范书籍呢？滑铁卢战役的发生日期是可以确定的一天；但是作为一出戏剧，《哈姆莱特》好过《李尔王》吗？没有人可以下这样的结论。人人都必须自己回答这个问题。把穿着华贵毛皮外套和长袍的权威请到图书馆，让他们告诉我们如何阅读，阅读什么，如何评价我们所阅读的内容，就是在破坏作为这些圣洁场所活力的自由精神。在其他任何地方我们可能会被法律法规所限制——但在图书馆我们没有任何规定。

如果容许我老生常谈，我会说为了享受自由，我们当然不得不约束自己。我们不能无可奈何又不知不觉地滥用权力，就像不能喷湿了半个房子只为了浇灌一丛玫瑰花。我们必须在这个地方准确有力地训练权力。这应该是我们在图书馆首先遇到的难题之一。“这个地方”是哪里？看起来好像没什么，其实充满了困惑。诗歌和小说，历史和回忆，字典和蓝皮书，这些书的作者来自不同语言的男男女女，他们性格不同，种族不同，年龄不同。但是所有书都在书架上挤成一团。外面有阵阵驴叫，女人们在抽水机旁叽叽喳喳，小马驹在田野上飞驰而过。我们该从何开始？我们如何在众多繁杂混乱中建立秩序？如何从我们的阅读中获得最有深度、最广泛的快乐呢？

简单地说因为书可以按种类划分——小说、传记、诗歌——我们应该就此进行区分，以便可以分门别类获取它能给予我们的正确的东西。然而没有人会问书能给予我们什么。我们对于书总是迷迷糊糊懵懵懂懂，觉得小说真实，诗歌虚伪，传记阿谀谄媚，而历史书总是强化我们的偏见。如果我们能在阅读时消除这样的成见，将会是一个美妙的开始。不要指挥作者，试着变成他们，或成为他的同事和伙伴。如果你开始犹豫畏缩，发表批评，你就失去了从阅读中获取可能最完整价值的机会。但是如果你尽可能地敞开心胸，首句的起承转合里那些几乎无法察觉的敏锐的标志和线索，会让你变得与众不同。沉浸其中，熟悉这些，很快你会发现作者在告诉你，或者正试图告诉你一些更确定的事情。一部小说里的三十章节——如果我们先考虑如何阅读一本小说——试图形成一些东西，这些东西像建筑一样被组合和限定，但是词语比砖块更为玄妙，阅读比观看的过程更为漫长，更为复杂。理解小说家工作要素的最快方法也许不是阅读，而是写作；自己做实验，了解词语的危险和困难。然后回想出一些给你留下深远印象的事情——可能在某个街角，你如何经过正在聊天的两个人。树枝轻摇，灯影晃动，步伐轻快，却也悲伤；整个场景，全部的概念，似乎都包含在那么一个瞬间。

但是当你试图用词语重建，会发现这个场景破碎成无数片相互矛盾的印象。一些含蓄温和，一些突出强调，在这个过程中你必须舍弃一些，可能是全部，去攫取感情本身。然后从自己含糊分散的书转向一些优秀小说家的率直的作品中——笛福、简·奥斯汀、哈代。现在你就会更好地欣赏他们的写作技巧。我们不只在别人面前——笛福、简·奥斯汀或托马斯·哈代——我们还生活在另一个世界。在《鲁宾逊漂流记》中，我们在普通公路上跋涉，事情接踵而来，事实和其顺序令人应接不暇。但是如果户外和冒险对笛福很重要的话，它们对简·奥斯汀毫无价值。对她来说重要的是在会客厅里，人们谈天说地，他们的对话如镜子一般反映出各自的性格。当我们适应了会客厅和人们的反映，转头回去看哈代，就会立刻变得头晕目眩。周围是荒凉的原野，星星在头顶上闪闪发光。思想的另一面暴露出来——在孤独中浮现出的黑暗面，而不是在人群中表现出的阳光面。我们和其他人没有关系，而是和自然命运相关。然而尽管这些世界个个不同，每一个都坚持自我。每一个世界的创造者都从自己的角度仔细观察规律，不管他们对我们施加多大的压力，也不会像少数作家经常做的那样，在同一本书中引出两个不同类型的现实，让我们感到混乱。因此从一位杰出的小说家到另一位——从简·奥斯汀到哈代，从皮科尔到特洛勒普，从斯科特到米勒迪斯——不仅是断绝和背离，还陷入各式各样的困惑。阅读小说是困难复杂的艺术，你必须既有强烈的感受力，还有大胆的想象力，如果你要充分利用小说家——伟大的艺术家——所给予你的东西。

书架上的书种类繁多，稍微瞥一眼就知道没有几位“伟大的艺术家”；甚至书也根本不是艺术作品。比如，这些传记和自传，描述伟大的与世长辞并被人遗忘的人物的生平，放在小说和诗歌的旁边，我们能因为他们不是“艺术”就不去读吗？或者我们可以用别的方式，抱着别的目的去读吗？有时在晚上，我们徘徊在房门前，那里灯火通明，盲人不会注意，每一扇房门都向我们展示了人生的不同阶段，我们应该先为了满足心中的好奇去阅读吗？然后我们内心充满了对这些人生活的好奇——窃窃私语的仆侍、用餐的绅士、盛装打扮赶赴聚会的女孩，在窗边织个不停的老妇人。他们是谁，他们做什么，他们的名字、工作、想法和经历是什么？

传记和自传会回答这样的问题，点亮无数这样的房屋；他们向我们展示人们的日常生活，有辛苦，有失败，有成功，有吃喝，有爱有恨，直到死亡。有时我们看着，房屋渐渐消失，铁轨突然不见，我们变得一片茫然；我们打猎，航海，战斗；我们周围都是野蛮人和战士；我们参加伟大的游行。或者如果我们喜欢待在英国，就在伦敦这儿，场景还是会不断变化：街道变得狭窄；房屋变小，变窄，镶满了钻石却散发着臭气。我们看到一位诗人，多恩，从这样一栋房屋里被赶出来，墙壁太薄，孩子们的哭声穿过墙壁传了出来。我们跟着他穿过书页中的小径，到了崔肯南；到了贝德福夫人公园，那里是著名的贵族和诗人的汇集之处；然后我们移步到威尔顿，丘陵地下方的大房子，听西德尼为他的姐姐阅读《阿卡狄亚》；在沼泽附近徘徊，在那著名的浪漫之地欣赏苍鹭的英姿；然后偕同彭布鲁克夫人和安妮·克利福德，再次向北行，到达荒凉的野地，或繁华的城市，当看到加布里奥·哈维穿着黑色的天鹅绒套装和斯宾塞讨论诗歌时，暂停了我们的快乐。没什么比在伊丽莎白时期伦敦的黑暗和光彩的交替中摸索探寻更为刺激。但是我们没有停留在那里。坦普尔一家和斯威夫特一家，哈利一家和圣约翰一家都在召唤。我们花了好长时间才从他们的争吵中解脱出来，从而解读他们的性格。当我们厌倦了这些，可以继续漫步，路过一位佩戴钻石的黑衣女士，去找塞缪尔·约翰逊和高登·斯密以及加里克；如果我们愿意，可以穿过海峡，去见伏尔泰、狄德罗和杜·德芳侯爵夫人；然后回到英国崔肯南——此地的一处公园曾归贝德福夫人所有，之后成为教皇的住所。然后去草莓山，到华尔波尔府上拜访。但是华尔波尔把好多新朋友介绍给我们，那里有太多的房屋可供参观，太多钟声敲响，我们可能要好好地在贝利小姐的门阶等上一会儿，比如，当萨克雷到来的时候；他是华尔波尔喜欢的女人的朋友。所以只是朋友到朋友，花园到花园，房屋到房屋的走访，我们就从英国文学的一端到另一端，突然发现自己现在在此，如果我们能够区分此刻和之前过去的那些片段。那么，这就是我们可以阅读这些生活和信件的一个方法；我们可以让他们点亮过去的窗户；我们可以从熟悉的住所和爱好观察故去的名人，有时我们离得非常近，会因为他们的秘密感到惊讶，有时我们拿出他们写过的一部戏剧或一首诗，看看它们是否和现在不同。但是这又引起了新的问题。我们必须自问，作者的生活到底能对他的书产生多大的影响呢？透过书中人物如何解读作家比较安全呢？我们应该如何坚持或放弃书中人物引起的同情和厌恶（词语如此敏感，作者的性格感受力如此强烈）？这些是阅读生活和信件时困扰我们的问题，我们必须问自己，因为没什么比被他人的偏好引导更糟糕了。

但是我们也可以带着其他目的阅读这样的书，不为了阐明文学，也不为了结识名人，只是为了恢复和运用我们的创造力。书架右手边没有打开的窗户吗？暂停阅读看看窗外的风景让人多么愉快！风景的无意识、疏离、永恒的运动——小马驹在原野上飞驰而过，妇人从井里提上满满一桶水，驴子摇头晃脑，发出悠长尖锐的声音——这一切多么鼓舞人心！图书馆更大的作用不是别的，正是这些对于男人、女人和驴子生命里转瞬即逝时刻的记录。每一段文学，随着慢慢变老，积攒了无数的废纸；这些废纸上记录着不复存在的瞬间和被人遗忘的生活，用一种已经消失的结巴微弱的口音讲述着。但是如果去阅读这些所谓的废纸，你会十分惊喜，可以说会被那些曾被遗弃而变得腐朽的人类生活遗迹所征服。可能是一封信——但是它展现了多么完整的画面！可能是几句话——但是它们暗示了多么美妙的景致！有时一个完整的故事和它美妙的幽默，哀伤完整结合在一起，就像一位伟大的小说家在工作，但它不过是一位老演员，泰特·威尔金森，想起了琼斯船长的诡异故事；不过是阿瑟·威尔斯利手下工作的年轻中尉，他爱上了里斯本的一个可爱女孩；不过是玛利亚·艾伦，她把针线活儿丢在了无人的客厅，自怨自艾，真希望她自己当时听从伯尼大夫的好建议，没有和她的利时私奔。这一切毫无价值，极其微不足道；然而当小马驹在原野上飞驰而过，妇人从井里提上满满一桶水，驴子高声大叫的时候，经常穿过废纸堆，在浩繁的过去中重新找到曾经被掩埋的指环、剪刀和撞坏的鼻子，将它们缝到一起是多么有趣的事情啊！

但是我们终究还是厌倦了毫无意义的阅读。我们厌倦了不断寻找，以便能够使威尔金森、邦波利和玛利亚·艾伦写出的半成品变得完整真实。他们没有艺术家的控制力和淘汰力。他们甚至无法讲述关于他们自己生活的真实；他们将原本可能非常美好的故事扭曲变形。他们能提供给我们的只有事实，但是事实只是小说非常低级的形式。因此我们心中产生了一个想法，希望能够去处理应对那些半真半假和似是而非；不用再去找出人类性格的细微形状，反而去享受更复杂的抽象，对于小说来说更纯粹的真实。因此我们创造出一种体式，集中概括，不拘泥于细节，但是在一些有规律反复出现的节拍上加重，这种体式一般被称为诗歌；当我们差不多可以写诗时，就是我们该读诗的时候了。

西风啊，您什么时候开始吹刮，

绵绵的细雨什么时候降下来？

啊，但愿我的爱人在我怀里，

让我们同床共枕重相爱！

诗歌的影响如此强烈直接，以至于现在除了诗本身之外，其他感觉都不存在。那么我们要探访多深——我们的沉溺是那么的突然和完全！没有什么可以被掌握，飞行中没有什么可以支撑我们。小说的幻想是逐步的，它的影响蓄势待发；但是当他们读这四行诗时，谁会问这诗是谁写的，或是脑海中浮现出道恩的房子或西德尼的秘书；或把他们和过去的复杂以及世代更替纠缠在一起？诗人总是我们同时代的人。我们此刻的存在既得到重视也得到压抑，正如个人情感的任何一次剧烈波动。然后，感观也的确开始大面积占领我们的思想，我们感受了更遥远的感觉，它们开始发声说话，我们听到了回音和反响。诗歌的集中性覆盖了大面积情感。我们不得不去进行比较，欣赏这几句诗的力量和直接：

我应该像树一样倒下，找到我的坟墓，

心中满是悲伤。

这几句诗的婉转音韵：

时光如沙，分分秒秒在沙漏中溜走，

我们虚掷光阴，不知不觉迈向死亡，却无能为力；

恣意纵情的时刻总是在遗憾中结束，回归平静；

但是生活，已经厌倦了动荡，数着滑落的每一粒沙，

自怨自艾，直到最后的时刻来临，

草草了事，郁郁而终。

或是感受一下这几句诗的冷静思考：

不论年轻或年老，

我们的命运，我们的心和归属，

不受限制，就在那里，

只要有希望，只要希望不灭，

所有的努力，期待和心愿，

努力永远都会。

还有这几句诗的无与伦比的美感：

月亮慢慢升上天空，

一刻不停，

她轻轻地，轻轻地，变得越来越高，

周围闪烁着一两颗星——

或是这几句诗的自由奔放的想象力：

经常出没于森林，

他将会一直徘徊，

在那遥远的林中空地，

即使整个世界在燃烧，

火焰越来越高，

在他看来，

却像极了绽放中的报春花。

让我们想起诗人的丰富多彩的艺术；他能让我们立刻成为演员和观众；他能亲手为人物注入活力，就好像一只手套，戴上就成了孚斯塔夫或李尔王；他能一直简化，夸大，或陈述事实。

“我们只能进行比较”——和那些已经公开的诗进行比较，阅读真正的复杂性得到了承认。第一阶段尽全力理解并获得印象，这只是整个阅读过程的一半而已；如果我们想从一本书中获得全部的快乐，我们需要完成另一半。我们要对众多印象进行评判；我们要为这些转瞬即逝的印象营造一个坚硬持久的形状。但是并不直接。等到阅读的尘埃落定，等到争执疑问渐渐消失，一边走一边聊，从玫瑰花上摘下枯萎的花瓣，或者沉入梦乡。然后突然地，不经我们命令，因为自然操作了这些转换，书回来了，变得有点不同。它会整个飘到思想的顶端。这本书被当作一个整体，和当时以不同的用语理解的书截然不同。现在细节都找到了合适的位置。我们看着那形状从开始到结束；可能是马厩，可能是猪圈，也可能是大教堂。现在我们能够像比较建筑那样比较书。但是这种比较的行为意味着我们的态度发生了变化；我们不再是作家的朋友，而是评审；正如作为朋友我们不能太过同情，作为评审我们也不能太过严厉。如果他们写出的书浪费我们的时间和同情，他们难道不是罪犯？如果他们写虚伪的充满腐朽堕落气息的书，他们难道不是全社会最狡猾的敌人，贪污腐败的人，亵渎神灵的人？那么让我们严格评判，让我们用每本书和同类最优秀的书作比较。他们萦绕在脑海中，读过的书因为我们下的评判而变得有形——《鲁宾逊漂流记》《爱玛》《野性的呼唤》。把小说和这些书作比较——当节奏不再令人陶醉，词语也不再绚丽多彩，幻想的形状就会出现，它应该和《李尔王》《菲德拉》《序曲》作比较；如果不和这些比较，也要和同类里最好的或者对我们来说最好的相比较。我们大概可以确定新诗和小说的新颖是它们最大的优势，我们只需要稍微修改一下，不必改写我们用以评判旧书的标准。

认为阅读的第二阶段，即评判和比较，和第一阶段一样简单——打开心胸，接受无数一转而过的印象——简直就是太愚蠢了。在你手头没有书的情况下继续阅读，以一个幻影反对其他的，广泛阅读，充分理解，进行生动富有启发性的比较——是非常困难的；“这本书既是这一类的，也是那一类的；这里失败了；那里成功了；这里不好；那里好。”说出这样的话更难。担负起读者这部分义务需要这样的想象力，洞察力，还要意识到有效接受任何想法都是非常难的；对最有自信的人来说，也不可能在自己身上发现更多这样的力量的根源。那么，放缓脚步阅读，让批评家，让图书馆里穿着华丽衣裳的权威人士为我们确定书籍的绝对价值吗？多么不可思议！我们可以强调同情的重要；阅读时我们可以试着忘记自我。但是我们知道我们不能完全地同情或者完全地投入；我们心中总有一个声音，低声说“我憎恶，我热爱”，我们无法让他安静下来。事实上，我们的确是既憎恶又热爱，我们与诗人、小说家的关系如此密切以至于我们无法容忍其他人的存在。即使结果相悖判断失误，我们的品位，在体内传达阵阵战栗的感官神经也仍然是我们的主要光源。我们通过感觉学习，不彻彻底底地感觉我们就无法表达自己的特质。但随着时间流逝，也许我们可以培养我们的品位；也许我们可以让它符合一些限制。当它贪婪奢侈地从各种书中吸取养分——诗歌、小说、历史、传记——然后不再继续阅读，寻找不同种类中间的巨大差异，人世间的不和谐，我们会发现它正一点点开始变化；它不再那么贪婪，它的想法更加成熟。它将带给我们的不只是对于书的评判，它还要告诉我们特定的一类书所共有的性质。听，它会这样说，我们管这个叫什么？它可能会给我们读李尔王或是阿伽门农，用来引出提到的共性。因此，品位带领着我们，越过单独的一本书，去寻找一类书的共性；我们会给它们命名，然后制定规则，让我们的想法变得条条有理。我们将从这种差异中获得更深层次更珍贵的快乐。规则总是在和书籍的关联中被不断打破推翻——没有比在真空中制定脱离事实的规则更简单愚蠢的事情了——终于现在，为了让自己在这项艰难的尝试中心神安宁，我们可能要向那些极少的将文学作为一种艺术启发人们的作家求助。柯尔雷基、德莱顿和约翰逊，这些诗人和小说家深思熟虑的批评和不假思索的发言总是有着惊人的联系；有些模糊的想法在我们的脑海迷雾中蹒跚而行，他们让这些想法变得清晰坚定。但是如果我们带着许多问题和意见去找他们，他们只能帮助我们在阅读过程中真实地面对自己。如果我们像躲在篱笆下的绵羊一样，屈服于他们的权威，那么他们对我们其实无能为力。只有当我们自己和他们有了不同，并且战胜了他们，我们才能理解他们的做法。

如果是这样，如果阅读需要想象力、洞察力和判断力这些珍贵的品质，你可能会得出这样的结论：文学是一种非常复杂的艺术，究其一生，我们可能也无法对文学批评作出任何贡献。我们只能做读者；我们无法得到那些少数能作出贡献的批评家能得到的荣誉。但是作为读者我们也有自己的责任和重要性。我们提出的标准和我们通过的评判不知不觉成为空气，成为作家工作时呼吸的一部分。即使这影响无法出版印刷，也仍然存在。如果这种影响被塑造成热情的、个人的、真诚的，可能在批评中止时产生巨大作用；接受审查的书籍就好像打靶场列队的动物，批评家只有一秒钟时间去装弹、瞄准、射击，如果他误把兔子当成老虎，把鹰当成家禽，或错过所有目标，把子弹浪费在远处田野上吃草的温顺奶牛身上，他们都会得到原谅。在出版社的枪林弹雨背后，作者感到有另外一种批评，人们因为喜欢阅读而去读书，阅读速度缓慢而且不太专业，心怀极大的同情和严厉的想法去评判，这样难道不能改进他的作品吗？如果通过我们的努力，书可能变得更强大、更丰富、更多元，那也是值得努力的。

然而谁会带着这个想法去阅读？是不是太理想了？难道没有我们实践的追求是因为它们本身就很好，从头到尾都很有乐趣吗？阅读不是其中之一吗？至少，有时我会幻想当世界末日来临，杰出的领袖、律师和政治家去领取他们的桂冠，并把他们的名字永久地刻在不朽的大理石上；上帝看到我们胳膊下夹着书向他走来，脸色平静，毫无羡慕嫉妒之情，他会对天使彼得说：“看，这些人不需要回报。我们什么也给不了他们，因为他们喜欢阅读。”

Virginia Woolf

Thoughts on Peace in an Air Raid

PENGUIN BOOKS —— GREAT JDEAS

Table of Contents

Thoughts on Peace in an Air Raid

Street Haunting

Oxford Street Tide

Craftsmanship

The Art of Biography

How It Strikes a Contemporary

Why?

The Patron and the Crocus

Modern Fiction

How Should One Read a Book?

返回分册总目录

Thoughts on Peace in an Air Raid

The Germans were over this house last night and the night before that. Here they are again. It is a queer experience, lying in the dark and listening to the zoom of a hornet, which may at any moment sting you to death. It is a sound that interrupts cool and consecutive thinking about peace. Yet it is a sound-far more than prayers and anthems-that should compel one to think about peace. Unless we can think peace into existence we-not this one body in this one bed but millions of bodies yet to be born will lie in the same darkness and hear the same death rattle overhead. Let us think what we can do to create the only efficient air-raid shelter while the guns on the hill go pop pop pop and the searchlights finger the clouds and now and then, sometimes close at hand, sometimes far away, a bomb drops.

Up there in the sky young Englishmen and young German men are fighting each other. The defenders are men, the attackers are men. Arms are not given to Englishwomen either to fight the enemy or to defend herself. She must lie weaponless tonight. Yet if she believes that the fight going on up in the sky is a fight by the English to protect freedom, by the Germans to destroy freedom, she must fight, so far as she can, on the side of the English. How far can she fight for freedom without firearms? By making arms, or clothes or food. But there is another way of fighting for freedom without arms; we can fight with the mind. We can make ideas that will help the young Englishman who is fighting up in the sky to defeat the enemy.

But to make ideas effective, we must be able to fire them off. We must put them into action. And the hornet in the sky rouses another hornet in the mind. There was one zooming in The Times this morning-a woman's voice saying, 'Women have not a word to say in politics.' There is no woman in the Cabinet; nor in any responsible post. All the idea makers who are in a position to make ideas effective are men. That is a thought that damps thinking, and encourages irresponsibility. Why not bury the head in the pillow, plug the ears, and cease this futile activity of idea-making? Because there are other tables besides officer tables and conference tables. Are we not leaving the young Englishman without a weapon that might be of value to him if we give up private thinking, tea-table thinking, because it seems useless? Are we not stressing our disability because our ability exposes us perhaps to abuse, perhaps to contempt? 'I will not cease from mental fight,' Blake wrote. Mental fight means thinking against the current, not with it.

That current flows fast and furious. It issues in a spate of words from the loudspeakers and the politicians. Every day they tell us that we are a free people, fighting to defend freedom. That is the current that has whirled the young airman up into the sky and keeps him circling there among the clouds. Down here, with a roof to cover us and a gas mask handy, it is our business to puncture gas bags and discover seeds of truth. It is not true that we are free. We are both prisoners tonight-he boxed up in his machine with a gun handy; we lying in the dark with a gas mask handy. If we were free we should be out in the open, dancing, at the play, or sitting at the window talking together. What is it that prevents us? 'Hitler!' the loudspeakers cry with one voice. Who is Hitler? What is he? Aggressiveness, tyranny, the insane love of power made manifest, they reply. Destroy that, and you will be free.

The drone of the planes is now like the sawing of a branch overhead. Round and round it goes, sawing and sawing at a branch directly above the house. Another sound begins sawing its way in the brain. 'Women of ability'-it was Lady Astor speaking in The Times this morning 'are held down because of a subconscious Hitlerism in the hearts of men.' Certainly we are held down. We are equally prisoners tonight-the Englishmen in their planes, the Englishwomen in their beds. But if he stops to think he may be killed; and we too. So let us think for him. Let us try to drag up into consciousness the subconscious Hitlerism that holds us down. It is the desire for aggression; the desire to dominate and enslave. Even in the darkness we can see that made visible. We can see shop windows blazing; and women gazing; painted women; dressed-up women; women with crimson lips and crimson fingernails. They are slaves who are trying to enslave. If we could free ourselves from slavery we should free men from tyranny. Hitlers are bred by slaves.

A bomb drops. All the windows rattle. The anti-aircraft guns are getting active. Up there on the hill under a net tagged with strips of green and brown stuff to imitate the hues of autumn leaves guns are concealed. Now they all fire at once. On the nine o'clock radio we shall be told 'Forty-four enemy planes were shot down during the night, ten of them by anti-aircraft fire.' And one of the terms of peace, the loudspeakers say, is to be disarmament. There are to be no more guns, no army, no navy, no air force in the future. No more young men will be trained to fight with arms. That rouses another mind-hornet in the chambers of the brain-another quotation. 'To fight against a real enemy, to carn undying honour and glory by shooting total strangers, and to come home with my breast covered with medals and decorations, that was the summit of my hope . . . It was for this that my whole life so far had been dedicated, my education, training, everything . . .'

Those were the words of a young Englishman who fought in the last war. In the face of them, do the current thinkers honestly believe that by writing 'Disarmament' on a sheet of paper at a conference table they will have done all that is needful? Othello's occupation will be gone; but he will remain Othello. The young airman up in the sky is driven not only by the voices of loudspeakers; he is driven by voices in himself-ancient instincts, instincts fostered and cherished by education and tradition. Is he to be blamed for those instincts? Could we switch off the maternal instinct at the command of a table full of politicians? Suppose that imperative among the peace terms was: 'Child-bearing is to be restricted to a very small class of specially selected women,' would we submit? Should we not say, 'The maternal instinct is a woman's glory. It was for this that my whole life has been dedicated, my education, training, everything . . .' But if it were necessary, for the sake of humanity, for the peace of the world, that childbearing should be restricted, the maternal instinct subdued, women would attempt it. Men would help them. They would honour them for their refusal to bear children. They would give them other openings for their creative power. That too must make part of our fight for freedom. We must help the young Englishmen to root out from themselves the love of medals and decorations. We must create more honourable activities for those who try to conquer in themselves their fighting instinct, their subconscious Hitlerism. We must compensate the man for the loss of his gun.

The sound of sawing overhead has increased. All the searchlights are erect. They point at a spot exactly above this roof. At any moment a bomb may fall on this very room. One, two, three, four, five, six . . . the seconds pass. The bomb did not fall. But during those seconds of suspense all thinking stopped. All feeling, save one dull dread, ceased. A nail fixed the whole being to one hard board. The emotion of fear and of hate is therefore sterile, unfertile. Directly that fear passes, the mind reaches out and instinctively revives itself by trying to create. Since the room is dark it can create only from memory. It reaches out to the memory of other Augusts-in Bayreuth, listening to Wagner; in Rome, walking over the Campagna; in London. Friends' voices come back. Scraps of poetry return. Each of those thoughts, even in memory, was far more positive, reviving, healing and creative than the dull dread made of fear and hate. Therefore if we are to compensate the young man for the loss of his glory and of his gun, we must give him access to the creative feelings. We must make happiness. We must free him from the machine. We must bring him out of his prison into the open air. But what is the use of freeing the young Englishman if the young German and the young Italian remain slaves?

The searchlights, wavering across the flat, have picked up the plane now. From this window one can see a little silver insect turning and twisting in the light. The guns go pop pop pop. Then they cease. Probably the raider was brought down behind the hill. One of the pilots landed safe in a field near here the other day. He said to his captors, speaking fairly good English, 'How glad I am that the fight is over!' Then an Englishman gave him a cigarette, and an Englishwoman made him a cup of tea. That would seem to show that if you can free the man from the machine, the seed does not fall upon altogether stony ground. The seed may be fertile.

At last all the guns have stopped firing. All the searchlights have been extinguished. The natural darkness of a summer's night returns. The innocent sounds of the country are heard again. An apple thuds to the ground. An owl hoots, winging its way from tree to tree. And some half-forgotten words of an old English writer come to mind: 'The huntsmen are up in America . . .' Let us send these fragmentary notes to the huntsmen who are up in America, to the men and women whose sleep has not yet been broken by machine-gun fire, in the belief that they will rethink them generously and charitably, perhaps shape them into something serviceable. And now, in the shadowed half of the world, to sleep.

Street Haunting

A London Adventure

No one perhaps has ever felt passionately towards a lead pencil. But there are circumstances in which it can become supremely desirable to possess one; moments when we are set upon having an object, an excuse for walking half across London between tea and dinner. As the foxhunter hunts in order to preserve the breed of foxes, and the golfer plays in order that open spaces may be preserved from the builders, so when the desire comes upon us to go street rambling the pencil does for a pretext, and getting up we say: 'Really I must buy a pencil,' as if under cover of this excuse we could indulge safely in the greatest pleasure of town life in winter-rambling the streets of London.

The hour should be the evening and the season winter, for in winter the champagne brightness of the air and the sociability of the streets are grateful. We are not then taunted as in the summer by the longing for shade and solitude and sweet airs from the hayfields. The evening hour, too, gives us the irresponsibility which darkness and lamplight bestow. We are no longer quite ourselves. As we step out of the house on a fine evening between four and six, we shed the self our friends know us by and become part of that vast republican army of anonymous trampers, whose society is so agreeable after the solitude of one's own room. For there we sit surrounded by objects which perpetually express the oddity of our own temperaments and enforce the memories of our own experience. That bowl on the mantelpiece, for instance, was bought at Mantua on a windy day. We were leaving the shop when the sinister old woman plucked at our skirts and said she would find herself starving one of these days, but, 'Take it!' she cried, and thrust the blue and white china bowl into our hands as if she never wanted to be reminded of her quixotic generosity. So, guiltily, but suspecting nevertheless how badly we had been fleeced, we carried it back to the little hotel where, in the middle of the night, the innkeeper quarrelled so violently with his wife that we all leant out into the courtyard to look, and saw the vines laced about among the pillars and the stars white in the sky. The moment was stabilized, stamped like a coin indelibly among a million that slipped by imperceptibly. There, too, was the melancholy Englishman, who rose among the coffee cups and the little iron tables and revealed the secrets of his soul-as travellers do. All this-Italy, the windy morning, the vines laced about the pillars, the Englishman and the secrets of his soul-rise up in a cloud from the china bowl on the mantelpiece. And there, as our eyes fall to the floor, is that brown stain on the carpet. Mr Lloyd George made that. 'The man's a devil!' said Mr Cummings, putting the kettle down with which he was about to fill the teapot so that it burnt a brown ring on the carpet.

But when the door shuts on us, all that vanishes. The shell-like covering which our souls have excreted to house themselves, to make for themselves a shape distinct from others, is broken, and there is left of all these wrinkles and roughnesses a central oyster of perceptiveness, an enormous eye. How beautiful a street is in winter! It is at once revealed and obscured. Here vaguely one can trace symmetrical straight avenues of doors and windows; here under the lamps are floating islands of pale light through which pass quickly bright men and women, who, for all their poverty and shabbiness, wear a certain look of unreality, an air of triumph, as if they had given life the slip, so that life, deceived of her prey, blunders on without them. But, after all, we are only gliding smoothly on the surface. The eye is not a miner, not a diver, not a seeker after buried treasure. It floats us smoothly down a stream; resting, pausing, the brain sleeps perhaps as it looks.

How beautiful a London street is then, with its islands of light, and its long groves of darkness, and on one side of it perhaps some tree-sprinkled, grass-grown space where night is folding herself to sleep naturally and, as one passes the iron railing, one hears those little cracklings and stirrings of leaf and twig which seem to suppose the silence of fields all round them, an owl hooting, and far away the rattle of a train in the valley. But this is London, we are reminded; high among the bare trees are hung oblong frames of reddish yellow light-windows; there are points of brilliance burning steadily like low stars-lamps; this empty ground, which holds the country in it and its peace, is only a London square, set about by offices and houses where at this hour fierce lights burn over maps, over documents, over desks where clerks sit turning with wetted forefinger the files of endless correspondences; or more suffusedly the firelight wavers and the lamplight falls upon the privacy of some drawing-room, its easy chairs, its papers, its china, its inlaid table, and the figure of a woman, accurately measuring out the precise number of spoons of tea which-She looks at the door as if she heard a ring downstairs and somebody asking, is she in?

But here we must stop peremptorily. We are in danger of digging deeper than the eye approves; we are impeding our passage down the smooth stream by catching at some branch or root. At any moment, the sleeping army may stir itself and wake in us a thousand violins and trumpets in response; the army of human beings may rouse itself and assert all its oddities and sufferings and sordidities. Let us dally a little longer, be content still with surfaces only-the glossy brilliance of the motor omnibuses; the carnal splendour of the butchers' shops with their yellow flanks and purple steaks; the blue and red bunches of flowers burning so bravely through the plate glass of the florists' windows.

For the eye has this strange property: it rests only on beauty; like a butterfly it seeks colour and basks in warmth. On a winter's night like this, when nature has been at pains to polish and preen herself, it brings back the prettiest trophies, breaks off little lumps of emerald and coral as if the whole earth were made of precious stone. The thing it cannot do (one is speaking of the average unprofessional eye) is to compose these trophies in such a way as to bring out the more obscure angles and relationships. Hence after a prolonged diet of this simple, sugary fare, of beauty pure and uncomposed, we become conscious of satiety. We halt at the door of the boot shop and make some little excuse, which has nothing to do with the real reason, for folding up the bright paraphernalia of the streets and withdrawing to some duskier chamber of the being where we may ask, as we raise our left foot obediently upon the stand: 'What, then, is it like to be a dwarf?'

She came in escorted by two women who, being of normal size, looked like benevolent giants beside her. Smiling at the shop girls, they seemed to be disclaiming any lot in her deformity and assuring her of their protection. She wore the peevish yet apologetic expression usual on the faces of the deformed. She needed their kindness, yet she resented it. But when the shop girl had been summoned and the giantesses, smiling indulgently, had asked for shoes for 'this Lady' and the girl had pushed the little stand in front of her, the dwarf stuck her foot out with an impetuosity which seemed to claim all our attention. Look at that! Look at that! she seemed to demand of us all, as she thrust her foot out, for behold it was the shapely, perfectly proportioned foot of a well-grown woman. It was arched; it was aristocratic. Her whole manner changed as she looked at it resting on the stand. She looked soothed and satisfied. Her manner became full of self-confidence. She sent for shoe after shoe; she tried on pair after pair. She got up and pirouetted before a glass which reflected the foot only in yellow shoes, in fawn shoes, in shoes of lizard skin. She raised her little skirts and displayed her little legs. She was thinking that, after all, feet are the most important part of the whole person; women, she said to herself, have been loved for their feet alone. Seeing nothing but her feet, she imagined perhaps that the rest of her body was of a piece with those beautiful feet. She was shabbily dressed, but she was ready to lavish any money upon her shoes. And as this was the only occasion upon which she was not afraid of being looked at but positively craved attention, she was ready to use any device to prolong the choosing and fitting. Look at my feet, she seemed to be saying, as she took a step this way and then a step that way. The shop girl good-humouredly must have said something flattering, for suddenly her face lit up in ecstasy. But, after all, the giantesses, benevolent though they were, had their own affairs to see to; she must make up her mind; she must decide which to choose. At length, the pair was chosen and, as she walked out between her guardians, with the parcel swinging from her finger, the ecstasy faded, knowledge returned, the old peevishness, the old apology came back, and by the time she had reached the street again she had become a dwarf only.

But she had changed the mood; she had called into being an atmosphere which, as we followed her out into the street, seemed actually to create the humped, the twisted, the deformed. Two bearded men, brothers, apparently, stone-blind, supporting themselves by resting a hand on the head of a small boy between them, marched down the street. On they came with the unyielding yet tremulous tread of the blind, which seems to lend to their approach something of the terror and inevitability of the fate that has overtaken them. As they passed, holding straight on, the little convoy seemed to cleave asunder the passers-by with the momentum of its silence, its directness, its disaster. Indeed, the dwarf had started a hobbling grotesque dance to which everybody in the street had now conformed; the stout lady tightly swathed in shiny sealskin; the feeble-minded boy sucking the silver knob of his stick; the old man squatted on a doorstep as if, suddenly overcome by the absurdity of the human spectacle, he had sat down to look at it-all joined in the hobble and tap of the dwarf's dance.

In what crevices and crannies, one might ask, did they lodge, this maimed company of the halt and the blind? Here, perhaps, in the top rooms of these narrow old houses between Holborn and Soho, where people have such queer names, and pursue so many curious trades, are gold beaters, accordion pleaters, cover buttons, or support life, with even greater fantasticality, upon a traffic in cups without saucers, china umbrella handles, and highly coloured pictures of martyred saints. There they lodge, and it seems as if the lady in the sealskin jacket must find life tolerable, passing the time of day with the accordion pleater, or the man who covers buttons; life which is so fantastic cannot be altogether tragic. They do not grudge us, we are musing, our prosperity; when, suddenly, turning the corner, we come upon a bearded Jew, wild, hunger-bitten, glaring out of his misery; or pass the humped body of an old woman flung abandoned on the step of a public building with a cloak over her like the hasty covering thrown over a dead horse or donkey. At such sights the nerves of the spine seem to stand erect; a sudden flare is brandished in our eyes; a question is asked which is never answered. Often enough these derelicts choose to lie not a stone's throw from theatres, within hearing of barrel organs, almost, as night draws on, within touch of the sequined cloaks and bright legs of diners and dancers. They lie close to those shop windows where commerce offers to a world of old women laid on doorsteps, of blind men, of hobbling dwarfs, sofas which are supported by the gilt necks of proud swans; tables inlaid with baskets of many coloured fruit; sideboards paved with green marble the better to support the weight of boars' heads; and carpets so softened with age that their carnations have almost vanished in a pale green sea.

Passing, glimpsing, everything seems accidentally but miraculously sprinkled with beauty, as if the tide of trade which deposits its burden so punctually and prosaically upon the shores of Oxford Street had this night cast up nothing but treasure. With no thought of buying, the eye is sportive and generous; it creates; it adorns; it enhances. Standing out in the street, one may build up all the chambers of an imaginary house and furnish them at one's will with sofa, table, carpet. That rug will do for the hall. That alabaster bowl shall stand on a carved table in the window. Our merrymaking shall be reflected in that thick round mirror. But, having built and furnished the house, one is happily under no obligation to possess it; one can dismantle it in the twinkling of an eye, and build and furnish another house with other chairs and other glasses. Or let us indulge ourselves at the antique jewellers, among the trays of rings and the hanging necklaces. Let us choose those pearls, for example, and then imagine how, if we put them on, life would be changed. It becomes instantly between two and three in the morning; the lamps are burning very white in the deserted streets of Mayfair. Only motor-cars are abroad at this hour, and one has a sense of emptiness, of airiness, of secluded gaiety. Wearing pearls, wearing silk, one steps out on to a balcony which overlooks the gardens of sleeping Mayfair. There are a few lights in the bedrooms of great peers returned from Court, of silk-stockinged footmen, of dowagers who have pressed the hands of statesmen. A cat creeps along the garden wall. Love-making is going on sibilantly, seductively in the darker places of the room behind thick green curtains. Strolling sedately as if he were promenading a terrace beneath which the shires and counties of England lie sun-bathed, the aged Prime Minister recounts to Lady So-and-So with the curls and the emeralds the true history of some great crisis in the affairs of the land. We seem to be riding on the top of the highest mast of the tallest ship; and yet at the same time we know that nothing of this sort matters; love is not proved thus, nor great achievements completed thus; so that we sport with the moment and preen our feathers in it lightly, as we stand on the balcony watching the moonlit cat creep along Princess Mary's garden wall.

But what could be more absurd? It is, in fact, on the stroke of six; it is a winter's evening; we are walking to the Strand to buy a pencil. How, then, are we also on a balcony, wearing pearls in June? What could be more absurd? Yet it is nature's folly, not ours. When she set about her chief masterpiece, the making of man, she should have thought of one thing only. Instead, turning her head, looking over her shoulder, into each one of us she let creep instincts and desires which are utterly at variance with his main being, so that we are streaked, variegated, all of a mixture; the colours have run. Is the true self this which stands on the pavement in January, or that which bends over the balcony in June? Am I here, or am I there? Or is the true self neither this nor that, neither here nor there, but something so varied and wandering that it is only when we give the rein to its wishes and let it take its way unimpeded that we are indeed ourselves? Circumstances compel unity; for convenience sake a man must be a whole. The good citizen when he opens his door in the evening must be banker, golfer, husband, father; not a nomad wandering the desert, a mystic staring at the sky, a debauchee in the slums of San Francisco, a soldier heading a revolution, a pariah howling with scepticism and solitude. When he opens his door, he must run his fingers through his hair and put his umbrella in the stand like the rest.

But here, none too soon, are the second-hand bookshops. Here we find anchorage in these thwarting currents of being; here we balance ourselves after the splendours and miseries of the streets. The very sight of the bookseller's wife with her foot on the fender, sitting beside a good coal fire, screened from the door, is sobering and cheerful. She is never reading, or only the newspaper; her talk, when it leaves bookselling, which it does so gladly, is about hats; she likes a hat to be practical, she says, as well as pretty. Oh no, they don't live at the shop; they live in Brixton; she must have a bit of green to look at. In summer a jar of flowers grown in her own garden is stood on the top of some dusty pile to enliven the shop. Books are everywhere; and always the same sense of adventure fills us. Second-hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack. Besides, in this random miscellaneous company we may rub against some complete stranger who will, with luck, turn into the best friend we have in the world. There is always a hope, as we reach down some greyish-white book from an upper shelf, directed by its air of shabbiness and desertion, of meeting here with a man who set out on horseback over a hundred years ago to explore the woollen market in the Midlands and Wales; an unknown traveller, who stayed at inns, drank his pint, noted pretty girls and serious customs, wrote it all down stiffly, laboriously for sheer love of it (the book was published at his own expense); was infinitely prosy, busy, and matter-of-fact, and so let flow in without his knowing it the very scent of hollyhocks and the hay together with such a portrait of himself as gives him forever a seat in the warm corner of the mind's inglenook. One may buy him for eighteen pence now. He is marked three and sixpence, but the bookseller's wife, seeing how shabby the covers are and how long the book has stood there since it was bought at some sale of a gentleman's library in Suffolk, will let it go at that.

Thus, glancing round the bookshop, we make other such sudden capricious friendships with the unknown and the vanished whose only record is, for example, this little book of poems, so fairly printed, so finely engraved, too, with a portrait of the author. For he was a poet and drowned untimely, and his verse, mild as it is and formal and sententious, sends forth still a frail fluty sound like that of a piano organ played in some back street resignedly by an old Italian organ-grinder in a corduroy jacket. There are travellers, too, row upon row of them, still testifying, indomitable spinsters that they were, to the discomforts that they endured and the sunsets they admired in Greece when Queen Victoria was a girl. A tour in Cornwall with a visit to the tin mines was thought worthy of voluminous record. People went slowly up the Rhine and did portraits of each other in Indian ink, sitting reading on deck beside a coil of rope; they measured the pyramids; were lost to civilization for years; converted negroes in pestilential swamps. This packing up and going off, exploring deserts and catching fevers, settling in India for a lifetime, penetrating even to China and then returning to lead a parochial life at Edmonton, tumbles and tosses upon the dusty floor like an uneasy sea, so restless the English are, with the waves at their very door. The waters of travel and adventure seem to break upon little islands of serious effort and lifelong industry stood in jagged column upon the floor. In these piles of puce-bound volumes with gilt monograms on the back, thoughtful clergymen expound the gospels; scholars are to be heard with their hammers and their chisels chipping clear the ancient texts of Euripides and Aeschylus. Thinking, annotating, expounding goes on at a prodigious rate all around us and over everything, like a punctual, everlasting tide, washes the ancient sea of fiction. Innumerable volumes tell how Arthur loved Laura and they were separated and they were unhappy and then they met and they were happy ever after, as was the way when Victoria ruled these islands.

The number of books in the world is infinite, and one is forced to glimpse and nod and move on after a moment of talk, a flash of understanding, as, in the street outside, one catches a word in passing and from a chance phrase fabricates a lifetime. It is about a woman called Kate that they are talking, how 'I said to her quite straight last night . . . if you don't think I'm worth a penny stamp, I said . . .' But who Kate is, and to what crisis in their friendship that penny stamp refers, we shall never know; for Kate sinks under the warmth of their volubility; and here, at the street comer, another page of the volume of life is laid open by the sight of two men consulting under the lamp-post. They are spelling out the latest wire from Newmarket in the stop press news. Do they think, then, that fortune will ever convert their rags into fur and broadcloth, sling them with watch-chains, and plant diamond pins where there is now a ragged open shirt? But the main stream of walkers at this hour sweeps too fast to let us ask such questions. They are wrapt, in this short passage from work to home, in some narcotic dream, now that they are free from the desk, and have the fresh air on their cheeks. They put on those bright clothes which they must hang up and lock the key upon all the rest of the day, and are great cricketers, famous actresses, soldiers who have saved their country at the hour of need. Dreaming, gesticulating, often muttering a few words aloud, they sweep over the Strand and across Waterloo Bridge whence they will be slung in long rattling trains, to some prim little villa in Barnes or Surbiton where the sight of the clock in the hall and the smell of the supper in the basement puncture the dream.

But we are come to the Strand now, and as we hesitate on the kerb, a little rod about the length of one's finger begins to lay its bar across the velocity and abundance of life. 'Really I must-really I must'-that is it. Without investigating the demand, the mind cringes to the accustomed tyrant. One must, one always must, do something or other; it is not allowed one simply to enjoy oneself. Was it not for this reason that, some time ago, we fabricated the excuse, and invented the necessity of buying something? But what was it? Ah, we remember, it was a pencil. Let us go then and buy this pencil. But just as we are turning to obey the command, another self disputes the right of the tyrant to insist. The usual conflict comes about. Spread out behind the rod of duty we see the whole breadth of the river Thames-wide, mournful, peaceful. And we see it through the eyes of somebody who is leaning over the Embankment on a summer evening, without a care in the world. Let us put off buying the pencil; let us go in search of this person-and soon it becomes apparent that this person is ourselves. For if we could stand there where we stood six months ago, should we not be again as we were then-calm, aloof, content? Let us try then. But the river is rougher and greyer than we remembered. The tide is running out to sea. It brings down with it a tug and two barges, whose load of straw is tightly bound down beneath tarpaulin covers. There is, too, close by us, a couple leaning over the balustrade with the curious lack of self-consciousness lovers have, as if the importance of the affair they are engaged on claims without question the indulgence of the human race. The sights we see and the sounds we hear now have none of the quality of the past; nor have we any share in the serenity of the person who, six months ago, stood precisely where we stand now. His is the happiness of death; ours the insecurity of life. He has no future; the future is even now invading our peace. It is only when we look at the past and take from it the element of uncertainty that we can enjoy perfect peace. As it is, we must turn, we must cross the Strand again, we must find a shop where, even at this hour, they will be ready to sell us a pencil.

It is always an adventure to enter a new room; for the lives and characters of its owners have distilled their atmosphere into it, and directly we enter it we breast some new wave of emotion. Here, without a doubt, in the stationer's shop, people had been quarrelling. Their anger shot through the air. They both stopped; the old woman-they were husband and wife evidently-retired to a back room; the old man whose rounded forehead and globular eyes would have looked well on the frontispiece of some Elizabethan folio, stayed to serve us. 'A pencil, a pencil,' he repeated, 'certainly, certainly.' He spoke with the distraction yet effusiveness of one whose emotions have been roused and checked in full flood. He began opening box after box and shutting them again. He said that it was very difficult to find things when they kept so many different articles. He launched into a story about some legal gentleman who had got into deep waters owing to the conduct of his wife. He had known him for years; he had been connected with the Temple for half a century, he said, as if he wished his wife in the back room to overhear him. He upset a box of rubber bands. At last, exasperated by his incompetence, he pushed the swing door open and called out roughly: 'Where d'you keep the pencils?' as if his wife had hidden them. The old lady came in. Looking at nobody, she put her hand with a fine air of righteous severity upon the right box. There were pencils. How then could he do without her? Was she not indispensable to him? In order to keep them there, standing side by side in forced neutrality, one had to be particular in one's choice of pencils; this was too soft, that too hard. They stood silently looking on. The longer they stood there, the calmer they grew; their heat was going down, their anger disappearing. Now, without a word said on either side, the quarrel was made up. The old man, who would not have disgraced Ben Jonson's title-page, reached the box back to its proper place, bowed profoundly his good night to us, and they disappeared. She would get out her sewing; he would read his newspaper; the canary would scatter them impartially with seed. The quarrel was over.

In these minutes in which a ghost has been sought for, a quarrel composed, and a pencil bought, the streets had become completely empty. Life had withdrawn to the top floor, and lamps were lit. The pavement was dry and hard; the road was of hammered silver. Walking home through the desolation one could tell oneself the story of the dwarf, of the blind men, of the party in the Mayfair mansion, of the quarrel in the stationer's shop. Into each of these lives one could penetrate a little way, far enough to give oneself the illusion that one is not tethered to a single mind, but can put on briefly for a few minutes the bodies and minds of others. One could become a washerwoman, a publican, a street singer. And what greater delight and wonder can there be than to leave the straight lines of personality and deviate into those footpaths that lead beneath brambles and thick tree trunks into the heart of the forest where live those wild beasts, our fellow men?

That is true: to escape is the greatest of pleasures; street haunting in winter the greatest of adventures. Still as we approach our own doorstep again, it is comforting to feel the old possessions, the old prejudices, fold us round; and the self, which has been blown about at so many street corners, which has battered like a moth at the flame of so many inaccessible lanterns, sheltered and enclosed. Here again is the usual door; here the chair turned as we left it and the china bowl and the brown ring on the carpet. And here-let us examine it tenderly, let us touch it with reverence-is the only spoil we have retrieved from all the treasures of the city, a lead pencil.

Oxford Street Tide

Down in the docks one sees things in their crudity, their bulk, their enormity. Here in Oxford Street they have been refined and transformed. The huge barrels of damp tobacco have been rolled into innumerable neat cigarettes laid in silver paper. The corpulent bales of wool have been spun into thin vests and soft stockings. The grease of sheep's thick wool has become scented cream for delicate skins. And those who buy and those who sell have suffered the same city change. Tripping, mincing, in black coats, in satin dresses, the human form has adapted itself no less than the animal product. Instead of hauling and heaving, it deftly opens drawers, rolls out silk on counters, measures and snips with yard sticks and scissors.

Oxford Street, it goes without saying, is not London's most distinguished thoroughfare. Moralists have been known to point the finger of scorn at those who buy there, and they have the support of the dandies. Fashion has secret crannies off Hanover Square, round about Bond Street, to which it withdraws discreetly to perform its more sublime rites. In Oxford Street there are too many bargains, too many sales, too many goods marked down to one and eleven three that only last week cost two and six. The buying and selling is too blatant and raucous. But as one saunters towards the sunset and what with artificial light and mounds of silk and gleaming omnibuses, a perpetual sunset seems to brood over the Marble Arch the garishness and gaudiness of the great rolling ribbon of Oxford Street has its fascination. It is like the pebbly bed of a river whose stones are for ever washed by a bright stream. Everything glitters and twinkles. The first spring day brings out barrows frilled with tulips, violets, daffodils in brilliant layers. The frail vessels eddy vaguely across the stream of the traffic. At one corner seedy magicians are making slips of coloured paper expand in magic tumblers into bristling forests of splendidly tinted flora-a subaqueous flower garden. At another, tortoises repose on litters of grass. The slowest and most contemplative of creatures display their mild activities on a foot or two of pavement, jealously guarded from passing feet. One infers that the desire of man for the tortoise, like the desire of the moth for the star, is a constant element in human nature. Nevertheless, to see a woman stop and add a tortoise to her string of parcels is perhaps the rarest sight that human eyes can look upon.

Taking all this into account-the auctions, the barrows, the cheapness, the glitter-it cannot be said that the character of Oxford Street is refined. It is a breeding ground, a forcing house of sensation. The pavement seems to sprout horrid tragedies; the divorces of actresses, the suicides of millionaires occur here with a frequency that is unknown in the more austere pavements of the residential districts. News changes quicker than in any other part of London. The press of people passing seems to lick the ink off the placards and to consume more of them and to demand fresh supplies of later editions faster than elsewhere. The mind becomes a glutinous slab that takes impressions and Oxford Street rolls off upon it a perpetual ribbon of changing sights, sounds and movement. Parcels slap and hit; motor omnibuses graze the kerb; the blare of a whole brass band in full tongue dwindles to a thin reed of sound. Buses, vans, cars, barrows stream past like the fragments of a picture puzzle; a white arm rises; the puzzle runs thick, coagulates, stops; the white arm sinks, and away it streams again, streaked, twisted, higgledy-piggledy, in perpetual race and disorder. The puzzle never fits itself together, however long we look.

On the banks of this river of turning wheels our modern aristocrats have built palaces just as in ancient days the Dukes of Somerset and Northumberland, the Earls of Dorset and Salisbury lined the Strand with their stately mansions. The different houses of the great firms testify to the courage, initiative, the audacity of their creators much as the great houses of Cavendish and Percy testify to such qualities in some faraway shire. From the loins of our merchants will spring the Cavendishes and Percys of the future. Indeed, the great Lords of Oxford Street are as magnanimous as any Duke or Earl who scattered gold or doled out loaves to the poor at his gates. Only their largesse takes a different form. It takes the form of excitement, of display, of entertainment, of windows lit up by night, of banners flaunting by day. They give us the latest news for nothing. Music streams from their banqueting rooms free. You need not spend more than one and eleven three to enjoy all the shelter that high and airy halls provide; and the soft pile of carpets, and the luxury of lifts, and the glow of fabrics, and carpets and silver. Percy and Cavendish could give no more. These gifts of course have an object to entice the shilling and eleven pennies as freely from our pockets as possible; but the Percys and the Cavendishes were not munificent either without hope of some return, whether it was a dedication from a poet or a vote from a farmer. And both the old lords and the new added considerably to the decoration and entertainment of human life.

But it cannot be denied that these Oxford Street palaces are rather flimsy abodes-perhaps grounds rather than dwelling places. One is conscious that one is walking on a strip of wood laid upon steel girders, and that the outer wall, for all its florid stone ornamentation, is only thick enough to withstand the force of the wind. A vigorous prod with an umbrella point might well inflict irreparable damage upon the fabric. Many a country cottage built to house farmer or miller when Queen Elizabeth was on the throne will live to see these palaces fall into the dust. The old cottage walls, with their oak beams and their layers of honest brick soundly cemented together still put up a stout resistance to the drills and bores that attempt to introduce the modern blessing of electricity. But any day of the week one may sec Oxford Street vanishing at the tap of a workman's pick as he stands perilously balanced on a dusty pinnacle knocking down walls and facades as lightly as if they were made of yellow cardboard and sugar icing.

And again the moralists point the finger of scorn. For such thinness, such papery stone and powdery brick reflect, they say, the levity, the ostentation, the haste and irresponsibility of our age. Yet perhaps they are as much out in their scorn as we should be if we asked of the lily that it should be cast in bronze, or of the daisy that it should have petals of imperishable enamel. The charm of modern London is that it is not built to last; it is built to pass. Its glassiness, its transparency, its surging waves of coloured plaster give a different pleasure and achieve a different end from that which was desired and attempted by the old builders and their patrons, the nobility of England. Their pride required the illusion of permanence. Ours, on the contrary, seems to delight in proving that we can make stone and brick as transitory as our own desires. We do not build for our descendants, who may live up in the clouds or down in the earth, but for ourselves and our own needs. We knock down and rebuild as we expect to be knocked down and rebuilt. It is an impulse that makes for creation and fertility. Discovery is stimulated and invention on the alert.

The palaces of Oxford Street ignore what seemed good to the Greeks, to the Elizabethan, to the eighteenthcentury nobleman; they are overwhelmingly conscious that unless they can devise an architecture that shows off the dressing-case, the Paris frock, the cheap stockings, and the jar of bath salts to perfection, their palaces, their mansions and motor-cars and the little villas out at Croydon and Surbiton where their shop assistants live, not so badly after all, with a gramophone and wireless, and money to spend at the movies-all this will be swept to ruin. Hence they stretch stone fantastically; crush together in one wild confusion the styles of Greece, Egypt, Italy, America; and boldly attempt an air of lavishness, opulence, in their effort to persuade the multitude that here unending beauty, ever fresh, ever new, very cheap and within the reach of everybody, bubbles up every day of the week from an inexhaustible well. The mere thought of age, of solidity, of lasting for ever is abhorrent to Oxford Street.

Therefore if the moralist chooses to take his afternoon walk along this particular thoroughfare, he must tune his strain so that it receives into it some queer, incongruous voices. Above the racket of van and omnibus we can hear them crying. God knows, says the man who sells tortoises, that my arm aches; my chance of selling a tortoise is small; but courage! there may come along a buyer; my bed tonight depends on it; so on I must go, as slowly as the police allow, wheeling tortoises down Oxford Street from dawn till dusk. True, says the great merchant, I am not thinking of educating the mass to a higher standard of æsthetic sensibility. It taxes all my wits to think how I can display my goods with the minimum of waste and the maximum of effectiveness. Green dragons on the top of Corinthian columns may help; let us try. I grant, says the middle-class woman, that I linger and look and barter and cheapen and turn over basket after basket of remnants hour by hour. My eyes glisten unseemily I know, and I grab and pounce with disgusting greed. But my husband is a small clerk in a bank; I have only fifteen pounds a year to dress on; so here I come, to linger and loiter and look, if I can, as well dressed as my neighbours. I am a thief, says a woman of that persuasion, and a lady of easy virtue into the bargain. But it takes a good deal of pluck to snatch a bag from a counter when a customer is not looking; and it may contain only spectacles and old bus tickets after all. So here goes!

A thousand such voices are always crying aloud in Oxford Street. All are tense, all are real, all are urged out of their speakers by the pressure of making a living, finding a bed, somehow keeping afloat on the bounding, careless, remorseless tide of the street. And even a moralist, who is, one must suppose, since he can spend the afternoon dreaming, a man with a balance in the bank-even a moralist must allow that this gaudy, bustling, vulgar street reminds us that life is a struggle; that all building is perishable; that all display is vanity; from which we may conclude-but until some adroit shopkeeper has caught on to the idea and opened cells for solitary thinkers hung with green plush and provided with automatic glowworms and a sprinkling of genuine death's-head moths to induce thought and reflection, it is vain to try to come to a conclusion in Oxford Street.

Craftsmanship

The title of this series is 'Words Fail Me', and this particular talk is called 'Craftsmanship'. We must suppose, therefore, that the talker is meant to discuss the craft of words-the craftsmanship of the writer. But there is something incongruous, unfitting, about the term 'craftsmanship' when applied to words. The English dictionary, to which we always turn in moments of dilemma, confirms us in our doubts. It says that the word 'craft' has two meanings; it means in the first place making useful objects out of solid matter for example, a pot, a chair, a table. In the second place, the word 'craft' means cajolery, cunning, deceit. Now we know little that is certain about words, but this we do know-words never make anything that is useful; and words are the only things that tell the truth and nothing but the truth. Therefore, to talk of craft in connexion with words is to bring together two incongruous ideas, which if they mate can only give birth to some monster fit for a glass case in a museum. Instantly, therefore, the title of the talk must be changed, and for it substituted another-A Ramble round Words, perhaps. For when you cut off the head of a talk it behaves like a hen that has been decapitated. It runs round in a circle till it drops dead-so people say who have killed hens. And that must be the course, or circle, of this decapitated talk. Let us then take for our starting point the statement that words are not useful. This happily needs little proving, for we are all aware of it. When we travel on the Tube, for example, when we wait on the platform for a train, there, hung up in front of us, on an illuminated signboard, are the words 'Passing Russell Square'. We look at those words; we repeat them; we try to impress that useful fact upon our minds; the next train will pass Russell Square. We say over and over again as we pace 'Passing Russell Square, passing Russell Square'. And then as we say them, the words shuffle and change, and we find ourselves saying 'Passing away saith the world, passing away . . . The leaves decay and fall, the vapours weep their burthen to the ground. Man comes . . .' And then we wake up and find ourselves at King's Cross.

Take another example. Written up opposite us in the railway carriage are the words: 'Do not lean out of the window'. At the first reading the useful meaning, the surface meaning, is conveyed; but soon, as we sit looking at the words, they shuffle, they change; and we begin saying, 'Windows, yes windows-casements opening on the foam of perilous seas in faery lands forlorn.' And before we know what we are doing, we have leant out of the window; we are looking for Ruth in tears amid the alien corn. The penalty for that is twenty pounds or a broken neck.

This proves, if it needs proving, how very little natural gift words have for being useful. If we insist on forcing them against their nature to be useful, we see to our cost how they mislead us, how they fool us, how they land us a crack on the head. We have been so often fooled in this way by words, they have so often proved that they hate being useful, that it is their nature not to express one simple statement but a thousand possibilities they have done this so often that at last, happily, we are beginning to face the fact. We are beginning to invent another language-a language perfectly and beautifully adapted to express useful statements, a language of signs. There is one great living master of this language to whom we are all indebted, that anonymous writer-whether man, woman or disembodied spirit nobody knows-who describes hotels in the Michelin Guide. He wants to tell us that one hotel is moderate, another good, and a third the best in the place. How does he do it? Not with words; words would at once bring into being shrubberies and billiard tables, men and women, the moon rising and the long splash of the summer sea all good things, but all here beside the point. He sticks to signs; one gable; two gables; three gables. That is all he says and all he needs to say. Baedeker carries the sign language still further into the sublime realms of art. When he wishes to say that a picture is good, he uses one star; if very good, two stars; when, in his opinion, it is a work of transcendent genius, three black stars shine on the page, and that is all. So with a handful of stars and daggers the whole of art criticism, the whole of literary criticism could be reduced to the size of a six-penny bit-there are moments when one could wish it. But this suggests that in time to come writers will have two languages at their service; one for fact, one for fiction. When the biographer has to convey a useful and necessary fact, as, for example, that Oliver Smith went to college and took a third in the year 1892, he will say so with a hollow O on top of the figure five. When the novelist is forced to inform us that John rang the bell; after a pause the door was opened by a parlourmaid who said, 'Mrs Jones is not at home,' he will to our great gain and his own comfort convey that repulsive statement not in words, but in signs-say, a capital H on top of the figure three. Thus we may look forward to the day when our biographies and novels will be slim and muscular; and a railway company that says: 'Do not lean out of the window' in words will be fined a penalty not exceeding five pounds for the improper use of language.

Words, then, are not useful. Let us now inquire into their other quality, their positive quality, that is, their power to tell the truth. According once more to the dictionary there are at least three kinds of truth: God's or gospel truth; literary truth; and home truth (generally unflattering). But to consider each separately would take too long. Let us then simplify and assert that since the only test of truth is length of life, and since words survive the chops and changes of time longer than any other substance, therefore they are the truest. Buildings fall; even the earth perishes. What was yesterday a cornfield is today a bungalow. But words, if properly used, seem able to live for ever. What, then, we may ask next, is the proper use of words? Not, so we have said, to make a useful statement; for a useful statement is a statement that can mean only one thing. And it is the nature of words to mean many things. Take the simple sentence 'Passing Russell Square'. That proved useless because besides the surface meaning it contained so many sunken meanings. The word 'passing' suggested the transiency of things, the passing of time and the changes of human life. Then the word 'Russell' suggested the rustling of leaves and the skirt on a polished floor: also the ducal house of Bedford and half the history of England. Finally the word 'Square' brings in the sight, the shape of an actual square combined with some visual suggestion of the stark angularity of stucco. Thus one sentence of the simplest kind rouses the imagination, the memory, the eye and the ear-all combine in reading it.

But they combine-they combine unconsciously together. The moment we single out and emphasize the suggestions as we have done here they become unreal; and we, too, become unreal-specialists, word mongers, phrase finders, not readers. In reading we have to allow the sunken meanings to remain sunken, suggested, not stated; lapsing and flowing into each other like reeds on the bed of a river. But the words in that sentence-Passing Russell Square-are of course very rudimentary words. They show no trace of the strange, of the diabolical power which words possess when they are not tapped out by a typewriter but come fresh from a human brain-the power that is to suggest the writer; his character, his appearance, his wife, his family, his house-even the cat on the hearthrug. Why words do this, how they do it, how to prevent them from doing it nobody knows. They do it without the writer's will; often against his will. No writer presumably wishes to impose his own miserable character, his own private secrets and vices upon the reader. But has any writer, who is not a typewriter, succeeded in being wholly impersonal? Always, inevitably, we know them as well as their books. Such is the suggestive power of words that they will often make a bad book into a very lovable human being, and a good book into a man whom we can hardly tolerate in the room. Even words that are hundreds of years old have this power; when they are new they have it so strongly that they deafen us to the writer's meaning-it is them we see, them we hear. That is one reason why our judgements of living writers are so wildly erratic. Only after the writer is dead do his words to some extent become disinfected, purified of the accidents of the living body.

Now, this power of suggestion is one of the most mysterious properties of words. Everyone who has ever written a sentence must be conscious or half-conscious of it. Words, English words, are full of echoes, of memories, of associations naturally. They have been out and about, on people's lips, in their houses, in the streets, in the fields, for so many centuries. And that is one of the chief difficulties in writing them today-that they are so stored with meanings, with memories, that they have contracted so many famous marriages. The splendid word 'incarnadine', for example-who can use it without remembering also 'multitudinous seas'? In the old days, of course, when English was a new language, writers could invent new words and use them. Nowadays it is easy enough to invent new words-they spring to the lips whenever we see a new sight or feel a new sensation-but we cannot use them because the language is old. You cannot use a brand new word in an old language because of the very obvious yet mysterious fact that a word is not a single and separate entity, but part of other words. It is not a word indeed until it is part of a sentence. Words belong to each other, although, of course, only a great writer knows that the word 'incarnadine' belongs to 'multitudinous seas'. To combine new words with old words is fatal to the constitution of the sentence. In order to use new words properly you would have to invent a new language; and that, though no doubt we shall come to it, is not at the moment our business. Our business is to see what we can do with the English language as it is. How can we combine the old words in new orders so that they survive, so that they create beauty, so that they tell the truth? That is the question.

And the person who could answer that question would deserve whatever crown of glory the world has to offer. Think what it would mean if you could teach, if you could learn, the art of writing. Why, every book, every newspaper would tell the truth, would create beauty. But there is, it would appear, some obstacle in the way, some hindrance to the teaching of words. For though at this moment at least a hundred professors are lecturing upon the literature of the past, at least a thousand critics are reviewing the literature of the present, and hundreds upon hundreds of young men and women are passing examinations in English literature with the utmost credit, still-do we write better, do we read better than we read and wrote four hundred years ago when we were unlectured, uncriticized, untaught? Is our Georgian literature a patch on the Elizabethan? Where then are we to lay the blame? Not on our professors; not on our reviewers; not on our writers; but on words. It is words that are to blame. They are the wildest, freest, most irresponsible, most unteachable of all things. Of course, you can catch them and sort them and place them in alphabetical order in dictionaries. But words do not live in dictionaries; they live in the mind. If you want proof of this, consider how often in moments of emotion when we most need words we find none. Yet there is the dictionary; there at our disposal are some half-a-million words all in alphabetical order. But can we use them? No, because words do not live in dictionaries, they live in the mind. Look again at the dictionary. There beyond a doubt lie plays more splendid that Antony and Cleopatra; poems more lovely than the Ode to a Nightingale; novels beside which Pride and Prejudice or David Copperfield are the crude bunglings of amateurs. It is only a question of finding the right words and putting them in the right order. But we cannot do it because they do not live in dictionaries; they live in the mind. And how do they live in the mind? Variously and strangely, much as human beings live, by ranging hither and thither, by falling in love, and mating together. It is true that they are much less bound by ceremony and convention than we are. Royal words mate with commoners. English words marry French words, German words, Indian words, Negro words, if they have a fancy. Indeed, the less we inquire into the past of our dear Mother English the better it will be for that lady's reputation. For she has gone a-roving, a-roving fair maid.

Thus to lay down any laws for such irreclaimable vagabonds is worse than useless, A few trifling rules of grammar and spelling are all the constraint we can put on them. All we can say about them, as we peer at them over the edge of that deep, dark and fitfully illuminated cavern in which they live the mind all we can say about them is that they seem to like people to think and to feel before they use them, but to think and to feel not about them, but about something different. They are highly sensitive, easily made self-conscious. They do not like to have their purity or their impurity discussed. If you start a Society for Pure English, they will show their resentment by starting another for impure English-hence the unnatural violence of much modern speech; it is a protest against the puritans. They are highly democratic, too; they believe that one word is as good as another; uneducated words are as good as educated words, uncultivated words as cultivated words, there are no ranks or titles in their society. Nor do they like being lifted out on the point of a pen and examined separately. They hang together, in sentences, in paragraphs, sometimes for whole pages at a time. They hate being useful; they hate making money; they hate being lectured about in public. In short, they hate anything that stamps them with one meaning or confines them to one attitude, for it is their nature to change.

Perhaps that is their most striking peculiarity-their need of change. It is because the truth they try to catch is many-sided, and they convey it by being themselves many-sided, flashing this way, then that. Thus they mean one thing to one person, another thing to another person; they are unintelligible to one generation, plain as a pike-staff to the next. And it is because of this complexity that they survive. Perhaps then one reason why we have no great poet, novelist or critic writing today is that we refuse words their liberty. We pin them down to one meaning, their useful meaning, the meaning which makes us catch the train, the meaning which makes us pass the examination. And when words are pinned down they fold their wings and die. Finally, and most emphatically, words, like ourselves, in order to live at their ease, need privacy. Undoubtedly they like us to think, and they like us to feel, before we use them; but they also like us to pause; to become unconscious. Our unconsciousness is their privacy; our darkness is their light . . . That pause was made, that veil of darkness was dropped, to tempt words to come together in one of those swift marriages which are perfect images and create everlasting beauty. But no nothing of that sort is going to happen tonight. The little wretches are out of temper; disobliging; disobedient; dumb. What is it that they are muttering? 'Time's up! Silence!'

The Art of Biography

1

The art of biography, we say-but at once we go on to ask, Is biography an art? The question is foolish perhaps, and ungenerous certainly, considering the keen pleasure that biographers have given us. But the question asks itself so often that there must be something behind it. There it is, whenever a new biography is opened, casting its shadow on the page; and there would seem to be something deadly in that shadow, for after all, of the multitude of lives that are written, how few survive!

But the reason for this high death rate, the biographer might argue, is that biography, compared with the arts of poetry and fiction, is a young art. Interest in our selves and in other people's selves is a late development of the human mind. Not until the eighteenth century in England did that curiosity express itself in writing the lives of private people. Only in the nineteenth century was biography fully grown and hugely prolific. If it is true that there have been only three great biographers-Johnson, Boswell, and Lockhart-the reason, he argues, is that the time was short; and his plea, that the art of biography has had but little time to establish itself and develop itself, is certainly borne out by the textbooks. Tempting as it is to explore the reason why, that is, the self that writes a book of prose came into being so many centuries after the self that writes a poem, why Chaucer preceded Henry James it is better to leave that insoluble question unasked, and so pass to his next reason for the lack of masterpieces. It is that the art of biography is the most restricted of all the arts. He has his proof ready to hand. Here it is in the preface in which Smith, who has written the life of Jones, takes this opportunity of thanking old friends who have lent letters, and 'last but not least' Mrs Jones, the widow, for that help 'without which', as he puts it, 'this biography could not have been written.' Now the novelist, he points out, simply says in his foreword, 'Every character in this book is fictitious.' The novelist is free; the biographer is tied.

There, perhaps, we come within hailing distance of that very difficult, again perhaps insoluble, question: What do we mean by calling a book a work of art? At any rate, here is a distinction between biography and fiction-a proof that they differ in the very stuff of which they are made. One is made with the help of friends, of facts; the other is created without any restrictions save those that the artist, for reasons that seem good to him, chooses to obey. That is a distinction; and there is good reason to think that in the past biographers have found it not only a distinction but a very cruel distinction.

The widow and the friends were hard taskmasters. Suppose, for example, that the man of genius was immoral, ill-tempered, and threw the boots at the maid's head. The widow would say, 'Still I loved him-he was the father of my children; and the public, who love his books, must on no account be disillusioned. Cover up; omit.' The biographer obeyed. And thus the majority of Victorian biographies are like the wax figures now preserved in Westminster Abbey, that were carried in funeral processions through the street effigies that have only a smooth superficial likeness to the body in the coffin.

Then, towards the end of the nineteenth century, there was a change. Again for reasons not easy to discover, widows became broader-minded, the public keener-sighted; the effigy no longer carried conviction or satisfied curiosity. The biographer certainly won a measure of freedom. At least he could hint that there were scars and furrows on the dead man's face. Froude's Carlyle is by no means a wax mask painted rosy red. And following Froude there was Sir Edmund Gosse, who dared to say that his own father was a fallible human being. And following Edmund Gosse in the early years of the present century came Lytton Strachey,

2

The figure of Lytton Strachey is so important a figure in the history of biography that it compels a pause. For his three famous books, Eminent Victorians, Queen Victoria, and Elizabeth and Essex, are of a stature to show both what biography can do and what biography cannot do. Thus they suggest many possible answers to the question whether biography is an art, and if not, why it fails.

Lytton Strachey came to birth as an author at a lucky moment. In 1918, when he made his first attempt, biography, with its new liberties, was a form that offered great attractions. To a writer like himself, who had wished to write poetry or plays but was doubtful of his creative power, biography seemed to offer a promising alternative. For at last it was possible to tell the truth about the dead; and the Victorian age was rich in remarkable figures many of whom had been grossly deformed by the effigies that had been plastered over them. To recreate them, to show them as they really were, was a task that called for gifts analogous to the poet's or the novelist's, yet did not ask for that inventive power in which he found himself lacking.

It was well worth trying. And the anger and the interest that his short studies of Eminent Victorians aroused showed that he was able to make Manning, Florence Nightingale, Gordon, and the rest live as they had not lived since they were actually in the flesh. Once more they were the centre of a buzz of discussion. Did Gordon really drink, or was that an invention? Had Florence Nightingale received the Order of Merit in her bedroom or in her sitting-room? He stirred the public, even though a European war was raging, to an astonishing interest in such minute matters. Anger and laughter mixed; and editions multiplied.

But these were short studies with something of the over-emphasis and the foreshortening of caricatures. In the lives of the two great Queens, Elizabeth and Victoria, he attempted a far more ambitious task. Biography had never had a fairer chance of showing what it could do. For it was now being put to the test by a writer who was capable of making use of all the liberties that biography had won: he was fearless; he had proved his brilliance; and he had learned his job. The result throws great light upon the nature of biography. For who can doubt that after reading the two books again, one after the other, that the Victoria is a triumphant success, and that the Elizabeth by comparison is a failure? But it seems too, as we compare them, that it was not Lytton Strachey who failed; it was the art of biography. In the Victoria he treated biography as a craft; he submitted to its limitations. In the Elizabeth he treated biography as an art; he flouted its limitations.

But we must go on to ask how we have come to this conclusion and what reasons support it. In the first place it is clear that the two Queens present very different problems to their biographer. About Queen Victoria everything was known. Everything she did, almost everything she thought, was a matter of common knowledge. No one has ever been more closely verified and exactly authenticated than Queen Victoria. The biographer could not invent her, because at every moment some document was at hand to check his invention. And, in writing of Victoria, Lytton Strachey submitted to the conditions. He used to the full the biographer's power of selection and relation, but he kept strictly within the world of fact. Every statement was verified; every fact was authenticated. And the result is a life which, very possibly, will do for the old Queen what Boswell did for the old dictionary maker. In time to come Lytton Strachey's Queen Victoria will be Queen Victoria, just as Boswell's Johnson is now Dr Johnson. The other versions will fade and disappear. It was a prodigious feat, and no doubt, having accomplished it, the author was anxious to press further. There was Queen Victoria, solid, real, palpable. But undoubtedly she was limited. Could not biography produce something of the intensity of poetry, something of the excitement of drama, and yet keep also the peculiar virtue that belongs to fact-its suggestive reality, its own, proper creativeness?

Queen Elizabeth seemed to lend herself perfectly to the experiment. Very little was known about her. The society in which she lived was so remote that the habits, the motives, and even the actions of the people of that age were full of strangeness and obscurity. 'By what art are we to worm our way into those strange spirits? those even stranger bodies? The more clearly we perceive it, the more remote that singular universe becomes,' Lytton Strachey remarked on one of the first pages. Yet there was evidently a 'tragic history' lying dormant, half-revealed, half-concealed, in the story of the Queen and Essex. Everything seemed to lend itself to the making of a book that combined the advantages of both worlds, that gave the artist freedom to invent, but helped his invention with the support of facts-a book that was not only a biography but also a work of art.

Nevertheless, the combination proved unworkable; fact and fiction refused to mix. Elizabeth never became real in the sense that Queen Victoria had been real, yet she never became fictitious in the sense that Cleopatra or Falstaff is fictitious. The reason would seem to be that very little was known he was urged to invent; yet something was known his invention was checked. The Queen thus moves in an ambiguous world, between fact and fiction, neither embodied nor disembodied. There is a sense of vacancy and effort, of a tragedy that has no crisis, of characters that meet but do not clash.

If this diagnosis is true we are forced to say that the trouble lies with biography itself. It imposes conditions, and those conditions are that it must be based upon fact. And by fact in biography we mean facts that can be verified by other people besides the artist. If he invents facts as an artist invents them-facts that no one else can verify-and tries to combine them with facts of the other sort, they destroy each other.

Lytton Strachey himself seems in the Queen Victoria to have realized the necessity of this condition, and to have yielded to it instinctively. 'The first forty-two years of the Queen's life', he wrote, 'are illuminated by a great and varied quantity of authentic information. With Albert's death a veil descends.' And when with Albert's death the veil descended and authentic information failed, he knew that the biographer must follow suit. 'We must be content with a brief and summary relation,' he wrote and the last years are briefly disposed of. But the whole of Elizabeth's life was lived behind a far thicker veil than the last years of Victoria. And yet, ignoring his own admission, he went on to write, not a brief and summary relation, but a whole book about those strange spirits and even stranger bodies of whom authentic information was lacking. On his own showing, the attempt was doomed to failure.

3

It seems, then, that when the biographer complained that he was tied by friends, letters, and documents he was laying his finger upon a necessary element in biography; and that it is also a necessary limitation. For the invented character lives in a free world where the facts are verified by one person only-the artist himself. Their authenticity lies in the truth of his own vision. The world created by that vision is rarer, intenser, and more wholly of a piece than the world that is largely made of authentic information supplied by other people. And because of this difference the two kinds of fact will not mix; if they touch they destroy each other. No one, the conclusion seems to be, can make the best of both worlds; you must choose, and you must abide by your choice.

But though the failure of Elizabeth and Essex leads to this conclusion, that failure, because it was the result of a daring experiment carried out with magnificent skill, leads the way to further discoveries. Had he lived, Lytton Strachey would no doubt himself have explored the vein that he had opened. As it is, he has shown us the way in which others may advance. The biographer is bound by facts-that is so; but, if it is so, he has the right to all the facts that are available. If Jones threw boots at the maid's head, had a mistress in Islington, or was found drunk in a ditch after a night's debauch, he must be free to say so-so far at least as the law of libel and human sentiment allow.

But these facts are not like the facts of science once they are discovered, always the same. They are subject to changes of opinion; opinions change as the times change. What was thought a sin is now known, by the light of facts won for us by the psychologists, to be perhaps a misfortune; perhaps a curiosity; perhaps neither one nor the other, but a trifling foible of no great importance one way or the other. The accent on sex has changed within living memory. This leads to the destruction of a great deal of dead matter still obscuring the true features of the human face. Many of the old chapter headings-life at college, marriage, career-are shown to be very arbitrary and artificial distinctions. The real current of the hero's existence took, very likely, a different course.

Thus the biographer must go ahead of the rest of us, like the miner's canary, testing the atmosphere, detecting falsity, unreality, and the presence of obsolete conventions. His sense of truth must be alive and on tiptoe. Then again, since we live in an age when a thousand cameras are pointed, by newspapers, letters, and diaries, at every character from every angle, he must be prepared to admit contradictory versions of the same face. Biography will enlarge its scope by hanging up looking glasses at odd comers. And yet from all this diversity it will bring out, not a riot of confusion, but a richer unity. And again, since so much is known that used to be unknown, the question now inevitably asks itself, whether the lives of great men only should be recorded. Is not anyone who has lived a life, and left a record of that life, worthy of biography the failures as well as the successes, the humble as well as the illustrious? And what is greatness? And what smallness? He must revise our standards of merit and set up new heroes for our admiration.

4

Biography thus is only at the beginning of its career; it has a long and active life before it, we may be sure-a life full of difficulty, danger, and hard work. Nevertheless, we can also be sure that it is a different life from the life of poetry and fiction-a life lived at a lower degree of tension. And for that reason its creations are not destined for the immortality which the artist now and then achieves for his creations.

There would seem to be certain proof of that already. Even Dr Johnson as created by Boswell will not live as long as Falstaff as created by Shakespeare. Micawber and Miss Bates we may be certain will survive Lockhart's Sir Walter Scott and Lytton Strachey's Queen Victoria. For they are made of more enduring matter. The artist's imagination at its most intense fires out what is perishable in fact; he builds with what is durable; but the biographer must accept the perishable, build with it, imbed it in the very fabric of his work. Much will perish; little will live. And thus we come to the conclusion, that he is a craftsman, not an artist; and his work is not a work of art, but something betwixt and between.

Yet on that lower level the work of the biographer is invaluable; we cannot thank him sufficiently for what he does for us. For we are incapable of living wholly in the intense world of the imagination. The imagination is a faculty that soon tires and needs rest and refreshment. But for a tired imagination the proper food is not inferior poetry or minor fiction indeed they blunt and debauch it but sober fact, that 'authentic information' from which, as Lytton Strachey has shown us, good biography is made. When and where did the real man live; how did he look; did he wear laced boots or elastic-sided; who were his aunts, and his friends; how did he blow his nose; whom did he love, and how; and when he came to die did he die in his bed like a Christian, or . . .

By telling us the true facts, by sifting the little from the big, and shaping the whole so that we perceive the outline, the biographer does more to stimulate the imagination than any poet or novelist save the very greatest. For few poets and novelists are capable of that high degree of tension which gives us reality. But almost any biographer, if he respects facts, can give us much more than another fact to add to our collection. He can give us the creative fact; the fertile fact; the fact that suggests and engenders. Of this, too, there is certain proof. For how often, when a biography is read and tossed aside, some scene remains bright, some figure lives on in the depths of the mind, and causes us, when we read a poem or a novel, to feel a start of recognition, as if we remembered something that we had known before.

How It Strikes a Contemporary

In the first place a contemporary can scarcely fail to be struck by the fact that two critics at the same table at the same moment will pronounce completely different opinions about the same book. Here, on the right, it is declared a masterpiece of English prose; on the left, simultaneously, a mere mass of waste-paper which, if the fire could survive it, should be thrown upon the flames. Yet both critics are in agreement about Milton and about Keats. They display an exquisite sensibility and have undoubtedly a genuine enthusiasm. It is only when they discuss the work of contemporary writers that they inevitably come to blows. The book in question, which is at once a lasting contribution to English literature and a mere farrago of pretentious mediocrity, was published about two months ago. That is the explanation; that is why they differ.

The explanation is a strange one. It is equally disconcerting to the reader who wishes to take his bearings in the chaos of contemporary literature and to the writer who has a natural desire to know whether his own work, produced with infinite pains and in almost utter darkness, is likely to burn for ever among the fixed luminaries of English letters or, on the contrary, to put out the fire. But if we identify ourselves with the reader and explore his dilemma first, our bewilderment is short-lived enough. The same thing has happened so often before. We have heard the doctors disagreeing about the new and agreeing about the old twice a year on the average, in spring and autumn, ever since Robert Elsmere, or was it Stephen Phillips, somehow pervaded the atmosphere, and there was the same disagreement among grown-up people about these books too. It would be much more marvellous, and indeed much more upsetting, if, for a wonder, both gentlemen agreed, pronounced Blank's book an undoubted masterpiece, and thus faced us with the necessity of deciding whether we should back their judgement to the extent of ten and sixpence. Both are critics of reputation; the opinions tumbled out so spontaneously here will be starched and stiffened into columns of sober prose which will uphold the dignity of letters in England and America.

It must be some innate cynicism, then, some ungenerous distrust of contemporary genius, which determines us automatically as the talk goes on that, were they to agree-which they show no signs of doing-half a guinea is altogether too large a sum to squander upon contemporary enthusiasms, and the case will be met quite adequately by a card to the library. Still the question remains, and let us put it boldly to the critics themselves. Is there no guidance nowadays for a reader who yields to none in reverence for the dead, but is tormented by the suspicion that reverence for the dead is vitally connected with understanding of the living? After a rapid survey both critics are agreed that there is unfortunately no such person. For what is their own judgement worth where new books are concerned? Certainly not ten and sixpence. And from the stores of their experience they proceed to bring forth terrible examples of past blunders; crimes of criticism which, if they had been committed against the dead and not against the living, would have lost them their jobs and imperilled their reputations. The only advice they can offer is to respect one's own instincts, to follow them fearlessly and, rather than submit them to the control of any critic or reviewer alive, to check them by reading and reading again the masterpieces of the past.

Thanking them humbly, we cannot help reflecting that it was not always so. Once upon a time, we must believe, there was a rule, a discipline, which controlled the great republic of readers in a way which is now unknown. That is not to say that the great critic-the Dryden, the Johnson, the Coleridge, the Arnold was an impeccable judge of contemporary work, whose verdicts stamped the book indelibly and saved the reader the trouble of reckoning the value for himself. The mistakes of these great men about their own contemporaries are too notorious to be worth recording. But the mere fact of their existence had a centralizing influence. That alone, it is not fantastic to suppose, would have controlled the disagreements of the dinner-table and given to random chatter about some book just out an authority now entirely to seek. The diverse schools would have debated as hotly as ever, but at the back of every reader's mind would have been the consciousness that there was at least one man who kept the main principles of literature closely in view: who, if you had taken to him some eccentricity of the moment, would have brought it into touch with permanence and tethered it by his own authority in the contrary blasts of praise and blame. But when it comes to the making of a critic, nature must be generous and society ripe. The scattered dinner-tables of the modem world, the chase and eddy of the various currents which compose the society of our time, could only be dominated by a giant of fabulous dimensions. And where is even the very tall man whom we have the right to expect? Reviewers we have but no critic; a million competent and incorruptible policemen but no judge. Men of taste and learning and ability are for ever lecturing the young and celebrating the dead. But the too frequent result of their able and industrious pens is a desiccation of the living tissues of literature into a network of little bones. Nowhere shall we find the downright vigour of a Dryden, or Keats with his fine and natural bearing, his profound insight and sanity, or Flaubert and the tremendous power of his fanaticism, or Coleridge, above all, brewing in his head the whole of poetry and letting issue now and then one of those profound general statements which are caught up by the mind when hot with the friction of reading as if they were of the soul of the book itself.

And to all this, too, the critics generously agree. A great critic, they say, is the rarest of beings. But should one miraculously appear, how should we maintain him, on what should we feed him? Great critics, if they are not themselves great poets, are bred from the profusion of the age. There is some great man to be vindicated, some school to be founded or destroyed. But our age is meagre to the verge of destitution. There is no name which dominates the rest. There is no master in whose workshop the young are proud to serve apprenticeship. Mr Hardy has long since withdrawn from the arena, and there is something exotic about the genius of Mr Conrad which makes him not so much an influence as an idol, honoured and admired, but aloof and apart. As for the rest, though they are many and vigorous and in the full flood of creative activity, there is none whose influence can seriously affect his contemporaries, or penetrate beyond our day to that not very distant future which it pleases us to call immortality. If we make a century our test, and ask how much of the work produced in these days in England will be in existence then, we shall have to answer not merely that we cannot agree upon the same book, but that we are more than doubtful whether such a book there is. It is an age of fragments. A few stanzas, a few pages, a chapter here and there, the beginning of this novel, the end of that, are equal to the best of any age or author. But can we go to posterity with a sheaf of loose pages, or ask the readers of those days, with the whole of literature before them, to sift our enormous rubbish heaps for our tiny pearls? Such are the questions which the critics might lawfully put to their companions at table, the novelists and poets.

At first the weight of pessimism seems sufficient to bear down all opposition. Yes, it is a lean age, we repeat, with much to justify its poverty; but, frankly, if we pit one century against another the comparison seems overwhelmingly against us. Waverley, The Excursion, Kubla Khan, Don Juan, Hazlitt's Essays, Pride and Prejudice, Hyperion, and Prometheus Unbound were all published between 1800 and 1821. Our century has not lacked industry; but if we ask for masterpieces it appears on the face of it that the pessimists are right. It seems as if an age of genius must be succeeded by an age of endeavour; riot and extravagance by cleanliness and hard work. All honour, of course, to those who have sacrificed their immortality to set the house in order. But if we ask for masterpieces, where are we to look? A little poetry, we may feel sure, will survive; a few poems by Mr Yeats, by Mr Davies, by Mr de la Mare. Mr Lawrence, of course, has moments of greatness, but hours of something very different. Mr Beerbohm, in his way, is perfect, but it is not a big way. Passages in Far Away and Long Ago will undoubtedly go to posterity entire. Ulysses was a memorable catastrophe-immense in daring, terrific in disaster. And so, picking and choosing, we select now this, now that, hold it up for display, hear it defended or derided, and finally have to meet the objection that even so we are only agreeing with the critics that it is an age incapable of sustained effort, littered with fragments, and not seriously to be compared with the age that went before.

But it is just when opinions universally prevail and we have added lip service to their authority that we become sometimes most keenly conscious that we do not believe a word that we are saying. It is a barren and exhausted age, we repeat; we must look back with envy to the past. Meanwhile it is one of the first fine days of spring. Life is not altogether lacking in colour. The telephone, which interrupts the most serious conversations and cuts short the most weighty observations, has a romance of its own. And the random talk of people who have no chance of immortality and thus can speak their minds out has a setting, often, of lights, streets, houses, human beings, beautiful or grotesque, which will weave itself into the moment for ever. But this is life; the talk is about literature. We must try to disentangle the two, and justify the rash revolt of optimism against the superior plausibility, the finer distinction, of pessimism.

Our optimism, then, is largely instinctive. It springs from the fine day and the wine and the talk; it springs from the fact that when life throws up such treasures daily, daily suggests more than the most voluble can express, much though we admire the dead, we prefer life as it is. There is something about the present which we would not exchange, though we were offered a choice of all past ages to live in. And modern literature, with all its imperfections, has the same hold on us and the same fascination. It is like a relation whom we snub and scarify daily, but, after all, cannot do without. It has the same endearing quality of being that which we are, that which we have made, that in which we live, instead of being something, however august, alien to ourselves and beheld from the outside. Nor has any generation more need than ours to cherish its contemporaries. We are sharply cut off from our predecessors. A shift in the scale-the sudden slip of masses held in position for ages-has shaken the fabric from top to bottom, alienated us from the past and made us perhaps too vividly conscious of the present. Every day we find ourselves doing, saying, or thinking things that would have been impossible to our fathers. And we feel the differences which have not been noted far more keenly than the resemblances which have been very perfectly expressed. New books lure us to read them partly in the hope that they will reflect this re-arrangement of our attitude these scenes, thoughts, and apparently fortuitous groupings of incongruous things which impinge upon us with so keen a sense of novelty-and, as literature does, give it back into our keeping, whole and comprehended. Here indeed there is every reason for optimism. No age can have been more rich than ours in writers determined to give expression to the differences which separate them from the past and not to the resemblances which connect them with it. It would be invidious to mention names, but the most casual reader dipping into poetry, into fiction, into biography can hardly fail to be impressed by the courage, the sincerity, in a word, by the widespread originality of our time. But our exhilaration is strangely curtailed. Book after book leaves us with the same sense of promise unachieved, of intellectual poverty, of brilliance which has been snatched from life but not transmuted into literature. Much of what is best in contemporary work has the appearance of being noted under pressure, taken down in a bleak shorthand which preserves with astonishing brilliance the movements and expressions of the figures as they pass across the screen. But the flash is soon over, and there remains with us a profound dissatisfaction. The irritation is as acute as the pleasure was intense.

After all, then, we are back at the beginning, vacillating from extreme to extreme, at one moment enthusiastic, at the next pessimistic, unable to come to any conclusion about our contemporaries. We have asked the critics to help us, but they have deprecated the task. Now, then, is the time to accept their advice and correct these extremes by consulting the masterpieces of the past. We feel ourselves indeed driven to them, impelled not by calm judgement but by some imperious need to anchor our instability upon their security. But, honestly, the shock of the comparison between past and present is at first disconcerting. Undoubtedly there is a dullness in great books. There is an unabashed tranquillity in page after page of Wordsworth and Scott and Miss Austen which is sedative to the verge of somnolence. Opportunities occur and they neglect them. Shades and subtleties accumulate and they ignore them. They seem deliberately to refuse to gratify those senses which are stimulated so briskly by the moderns; the senses of sight, of sound, of touch above all, the sense of the human being, his depth and the variety of his perceptions, his complexity, his confusion, his self, in short. There is little of all this in the works of Wordsworth and Scott and Jane Austen. From what, then, arises that sense of security which gradually, delightfully, and completely overcomes us? It is the power of their belief-their conviction, that imposes itself upon us. In Wordsworth, the philosophic poet, this is obvious enough. But it is equally true of the careless Scott, who scribbled masterpieces to build castles before breakfast, and of the modest maiden lady who wrote furtively and quietly simply to give pleasure. In both there is the same natural conviction that life is of a certain quality. They have their judgement of conduct. They know the relations of human beings towards each other and towards the universe. Neither of them probably has a word to say about the matter outright, but everything depends on it. Only believe, we find ourselves saying, and all the rest will come of itself. Only believe, to take a very simple instance which the recent publication of The Walsons brings to mind, that a nice girl will instinctively try to soothe the feelings of a boy who has been snubbed at a dance, and then, if you believe it implicitly and unquestioningly, you will not only make people a hundred years later feel the same thing, but you will make them feel it as literature. For certainty of that kind is the condition which makes it possible to write. To believe that your impressions hold good for others is to be released from the cramp and confinement of personality. It is to be free, as Scott was free, to explore with a vigour which still holds us spellbound the whole world of adventure and romance. It is also the first step in that mysterious process in which Jane Austen was so great an adept. The little grain of experience once selected, believed in, and set outside herself, could he put precisely in its place, and she was then free to make it, by a process which never yields its secrets to the analyst, into that complete statement which is literature.

So then our contemporaries afflict us because they have ceased to believe. The most sincere of them will only tell us what it is that happens to himself. They cannot make a world, because they are not free of other human beings. They cannot tell stories because they do not believe that stories are true. They cannot generalise. They depend on their senses and emotions, whose testimony is trustworthy, rather than on their intellects whose message is obscure. And they have perforce to deny themselves the use of some of the most powerful and some of the most exquisite of the weapons of their craft. With the whole wealth of the English language at the back of them, they timidly pass about from hand to hand and book to book only the meanest copper coins. Set down at a fresh angle of the eternal prospect they can only whip out their notebooks and record with agonised intensity the flying gleams, which light on what? And the transitory splendours, which may, perhaps, compose nothing whatever. But here the critics interpose, and with some show of justice.

If this description holds good, they say, and is not, as it may well be, entirely dependent upon our position at the table and certain purely personal relationships to mustard pots and flower vases, then the risks of judging contemporary work are greater than ever before. There is every excuse for them if they are wide of the mark; and no doubt it would be better to retreat, as Matthew Arnold advised, from the burning ground of the present to the safe tranquillity of the past. 'We enter on burning ground,' wrote Matthew Arnold, 'as we approach the poetry of times so near to us, poetry like that of Byron, Shelley, and Wordsworth, of which the estimates are so often not only personal, but personal with passion,' and this, they remind us, was written in the year 1880. Beware, they say, of putting under the microscope one inch of a ribbon which runs many miles; things sort themselves out if you wait; moderation, and a study of the classics are to be recommended. Moreover, life is short; the Byron centenary is at hand; and the burning question of the moment is, did he, or did he not, marry his sister? To sum up, then-if indeed any conclusion is possible when everybody is talking at once and it is time to be going it seems that it would be wise for the writers of the present to renounce the hope of creating masterpieces, Their poems, plays, biographies, novels are not books but notebooks, and Time, like a good schoolmaster, will take them in his hands, point to their blots and scrawls and erasions, and tear them across; but he will not throw them into the waste-paper basket. He will keep them because other students will find them very useful. It is from the notebooks of the present that the masterpieces of the future are made. Literature, as the critics were saying just now, has lasted long, has undergone many changes, and it is only a short sight and a parochial mind that will exaggerate the importance of these squalls, however they may agitate the little boats now tossing out at sea. The storm and the drenching are on the surface; continuity and calm are in the depths.

As for the critics whose task it is to pass judgement upon the books of the moment, whose work, let us admit, is difficult, dangerous, and often distasteful, let us ask them to be generous of encouragement, but sparing of those wreaths and coronets which are so apt to get awry, and fade, and make the wearers, in six months time, look a little ridiculous. Let them take a wider, a less personal view of modern literature, and look indeed upon the writers as if they were engaged upon some vast building, which being built by common effort, the separate workmen may well remain anonymous. Let them slam the door upon the cosy company where sugar is cheap and butter plentiful, give over, for a time at least, the discussion of that fascinating topic-whether Byron married his sister and, withdrawing, perhaps, a handsbreadth from the table where we sit chattering, say something interesting about literature itself. Let us buttonhole them as they leave, and recall to their memory that gaunt aristocrat, Lady Hester Stanhope, who kept a milk-white horse in her stable in readiness for the Messiah and was for ever scanning the mountain tops, impatiently but with confidence, for signs of his approach, and ask them to follow her example; scan the horizon; see the past in relation to the future; and so prepare the way for masterpieces to come.

Why?

When the first number of Lysistrata appeared, I confess that I was deeply disappointed. It was so well printed, on such good paper. It looked established, prosperous. As I turned the pages it seemed to me that wealth must have descended upon Somerville, and I was about to answer the request of the editor for an article with a negative, when I read, greatly to my relief, that one of the writers was badly dressed, and gathered from another that the women's colleges still lack power and prestige. At this I plucked up heart, and a crowd of questions that have been pressing to be asked rushed to my lips saying: 'Here is our chance.'

I should explain that like so many people nowadays I am pestered with questions. I find it impossible to walk down the street without stopping, it may be in the middle of the road, to ask: Why? Churches, public houses, parliaments, shops, loud speakers, motor-cars, the drone of an aeroplane in the clouds, and men and women all inspire questions. Yet what is the point of asking questions of oneself? They should be asked openly in public. But the great obstacle to asking questions openly in public is, of course, wealth. The little twisted sign that comes at the end of a question has a way of making the rich writhe; power and prestige come down upon it with all their weight. Questions, therefore, being sensitive, impulsive and often foolish, have a way of picking their asking place with care. They shrivel up in an atmosphere of power, prosperity, and time-worn stone. They die by the dozen on the threshold of great newspaper offices. They slink away to less favoured, less flourishing quarters where people are poor and therefore have nothing to give, where they have no power and therefore have nothing to lose. Now the questions that have been pestering me to ask them decided, whether rightly or wrongly, that they could be asked in Lysistrata. They said: 'We do not expect you to ask us in-,' here they named some of our most respectable dailies and weeklies; 'nor in-,' here they named some of our most venerable institutions. 'But, thank I leaven!' they exclaimed, 'are not women's colleges poor and young? Are they not inventive, adventurous? Are they not out to create a new'

'The editor forbids feminism,' I interposed severely.

'What is feminism?' they screamed with one accord, and as I did not answer at once, a new question was flung at me: 'Don't you think it high time that a new-'

But I stopped them by reminding them that they had only two thousand words at their disposal. Upon that, they withdrew, consulted together, and finally put forward the request that I should introduce one or two of them of the simplest, tamest, and most obvious. For example, there is the question that always bobs up at the beginning of term when societies issue their invitations and universities open their doors-why lecture, why be lectured?

In order to place this question fairly before you, I will describe, for memory has kept the picture bright, one of those rare but, as Queen Victoria would have put it, never-to-be-sufficiently-lamented occasions when in deference to friendship, or in a desperate attempt to acquire information about, perhaps, the French Revolution, it seemed necessary to attend a lecture. The room to begin with had a hybrid look-it was not for sitting in, nor yet for eating in. Perhaps there was a map on the wall; certainly there was a table on a platform, and several rows of rather small, rather hard, comfortless little chairs. These were occupied intermittently, as if they shunned each other's company, by people of both sexes, and some had note-books and were tapping their fountain pens, and some had none and gazed with the vacancy and placidity of bull frogs at the ceiling. A large clock displayed its cheerless face, and when the hour struck in strode a harried-looking man, a man from whose face nervousness, vanity, or perhaps the depressing and impossible nature of his task had removed all traces of ordinary humanity. There was a momentary stir. He had written a book, and for a moment it is interesting to see people who have written books. Everybody gazed at him. He was bald and not hairy; had a mouth and a chin; in short he was a man like another, although he had written a book. He cleared his throat and the lecture began. Now the human voice is an instrument of varied power; it can enchant and it can soothe; it can rage and it can despair; but when it lectures it almost always bores. What he said was sensible enough; there was learning in it and argument and reason; but as the voice went on attention wandered. The face of the clock seemed abnormally pale; the hands too suffered from some infirmity. I lad they the gout? Were they swollen? They moved so slowly. They reminded one of the painful progress of a three-legged fly that has survived the winter. How many flies on an average survive the English winter, and what would be the thoughts of such an insect on waking to find itself being lectured on the French Revolution? The inquiry was fatal. A link had been lost-a paragraph dropped. It was useless to ask the lecturer to repeat his words; on he plodded with dogged pertinacity. The origin of the French Revolution was being sought for-also the thoughts of flies. Now there came one of those flat stretches of discourse when minute objects can be seen coming for two or three miles ahead. 'Skip!' we entreated him vainly. He did not skip. There was a joke. Then the voice went on again; then it seemed that the windows wanted washing; then a woman sneezed; then the voice quickened; then there was a peroration; and then-thank Heaven!-the lecture was over.

Why, since life holds only so many hours, waste one of them on being lectured? Why, since printing presses have been invented these many centuries, should he not have printed his lecture instead of speaking it? Then, by the fire in winter, or under an apple tree in summer, it could have been read, thought over, discussed; the difficult ideas pondered, the argument debated. It could have been thickened and stiffened. There would have been no need of those repetitions and dilutions with which lectures have to be watered down and brightened up, so as to attract the attention of a miscellaneous audience too apt to think about noses and chins, women sneezing and the longevity of flies.

It may be, I told these questions, that there is some reason, imperceptible to outsiders, which makes lectures an essential part of university discipline. But why here another rushed to the forefront-why, if lectures are necessary as a form of education, should they not be abolished as a form of entertainment? Never does the crocus flower or the beech tree redden but there issues simultaneously from all the universities of England, Scotland, and Ireland a shower of notes from desperate secretaries entreating So-and-so and So-and-so and So-and-so to come down and address them upon art or literature or politics or morality-and why?

In the old days when newspapers were scarce and carefully lent about from hall to rectory, such laboured methods of rubbing up minds and imparting ideas were no doubt essential. But now, when every day of the week scatters our tables with articles and pamphlets in which every shade of opinion is expressed, far more tersely than by word of mouth, why continue an obsolete custom which not merely wastes time and temper, but incites the most debased of human passions-vanity, ostentation, self-assertion, and the desire to convert? Why encourage your elders to turn themselves into prigs and prophets, when they are ordinary men and women? Why force them to stand on a platform for forty minutes while you reflect upon the colour of their hair and the longevity of flies? Why not let them talk to you and listen to you, naturally and happily, on the floor? Why not create a new form of society founded on poverty and equality? Why not bring together people of all ages and both sexes and all shades of fame and obscurity so that they can talk, without mounting platforms or reading papers or wearing expensive clothes or eating expensive food? Would not such a society be worth, even as a form of education, all the papers on art and literature that have ever been read since the world began? Why not abolish prigs and prophets? Why not invent human intercourse? Why not try?

Here, being sick of the word 'why', I was about to indulge myself with a few reflections of a general nature upon society as it was, as it is, as it might be, with a few fancy pictures of Mrs Thrale entertaining Dr Johnson, Lady Holland amusing Lord Macaulay thrown in, when such a clamour arose among the questions that I could hardly hear myself think. The cause of the clamour was soon apparent. I had incautiously and foolishly used the word 'literature'. Now if there is one word that excites questions and puts them in a fury it is this word 'literature'. There they were, screaming and crying, asking questions about poetry and fiction and criticism, each demanding to be heard, each certain that his was the only question that deserved an answer. At last, when they had destroyed all my fancy pictures of Lady Holland and Dr Johnson, one insisted, for he said that foolish and rash as he might be he was less so than the others, that he should be asked. And his question was, why learn English literature at universities when you can read it for yourselves in books? But I said that it is foolish to ask a question that has already been answered English literature is, I believe, already taught at the universities. Besides, if we arc going to start an argument about it, we should need at least twenty volumes, whereas we have only about seven hundred words remaining. Still, as he was importunate, I said I would ask the question and introduce it to the best of my ability, without expressing any opinion of my own, by copying down the following fragment of dialogue.

The other day I went to call upon a friend of mine who earns her living as a publisher's reader. The room was a little dark, it seemed to me, when I went in. Yet, as the window was open and it was a fine spring day, the darkness must have been spiritual-the effect of some private sorrow I feared. Her first words as I came in confirmed my fears:

'Alas, poor boy!' she exclaimed, tossing the manuscript she was reading to the ground with a gesture of despair. Had some accident happened to one of her relations, I asked, motoring or climbing?

'If you call three hundred pages on the evolution of the Elizabethan sonnet an accident,' she said.

'Is that all?' I replied with relief.

'All?' she retaliated, 'isn't it enough?' And, beginning to pace up and down the room she exclaimed: 'Once he was a clever boy; once he was worth talking to; once he cared about English literature. But now-' She threw out her hands as if words failed her-but not at all. There followed such a flood of lamentation and vituperation-but reflecting how hard her life was, reading manuscripts day in, day out, I excused her-that I could not follow the argument. All I could gather was that this lecturing about English literature 'if you want to teach them to read English,' she threw in, 'teach them to read Greek'-all this passing of examinations in English literature, which led to all this writing about English literature, was bound in the end to be the death and burial of English literature. 'The tombstone', she was proceeding, 'will be a bound volume of-' when I stopped her and told her not to talk such nonsense, 'Then tell me,' she said, standing over me with her fists clenched, 'do they write any better for it? Is poetry better, is fiction better, is criticism better now that they have been taught how to read English literature?' As if to answer her own question she read a passage from the manuscript on the floor. 'And each the spit and image of the other!' she groaned, lifting it wearily to its place with the manuscripts on the shelf.

'But think of all they must know,' I tried to argue.

'Know?' she echoed me. 'Know? What d'you mean by "know"?' As that was a difficult question to answer offhand. I passed it over by saying: 'Well, at any rate they'll he able to make their livings and teach other people.' Whereupon she lost her temper and, seizing the unfortunate work upon the Elizabethan sonnet, whizzed it across the room. The rest of the visit passed in picking up the fragments of a teapot that had belonged to her grandmother.

Now of course a dozen other questions clamour to be asked; about churches and parliaments and public houses and shops and loudspeakers and men and women; but mercifully time is up; silence falls.

The Patron and the Crocus

Young men and women beginning to write are generally given the plausible but utterly impracticable advice to write what they have to write as shortly as possible, as clearly as possible, and without other thought in their minds except to say exactly what is in them. Nobody ever adds on these occasions the one thing needful: 'And be sure you choose your patron wisely', though that is the gist of the whole matter. For a book is always written for somebody to read, and, since the patron is not merely the paymaster, but also in a very subtle and insidious way the instigator and inspirer of what is written, it is of the utmost importance that he should be a desirable man.

But who, then, is the desirable man-the patron who will cajole the best out of the writer's brain and bring to birth the most varied and vigorous progeny of which he is capable? Different ages have answered the question differently. The Elizabethans, to speak roughly, chose the aristocracy to write for and the playhouse public. The eighteenth-century patron was a combination of coffee-house wit and Grub Street bookseller. In the nineteenth century the great writers wrote for the halfcrown magazines and the leisured classes. And looking back and applauding the splendid results of these different alliances, it all seems enviably simple, and plain as a pikestaff compared with our own predicament-for whom should we write? For the present supply of patrons is of unexampled and bewildering variety. There is the daily Press, the weekly Press, the monthly Press; the English public and the American public; the bestseller public and the worst-seller public; the high-brow public and the red-blood public; all now organized self-conscious entities capable through their various mouthpieces of making their needs known and their approval or displeasure felt. Thus the writer who has been moved by the sight of the first crocus in Kensington Gardens has, before he sets pen to paper, to choose from a crowd of competitors the particular patron who suits him best. It is futile to say, 'Dismiss them all; think only of your crocus', because writing is a method of communication; and the crocus is an imperfect crocus until it has been shared. The first man or the last may write for himself alone, but he is an exception and an unenviable one at that, and the gulls are welcome to his works if the gulls can read them.

Granted, then, that every writer has some public or other at the end of his pen, the high-minded will say that it should be a submissive public, accepting obediently whatever he likes to give it. Plausible as the theory stands, great risks are attached to it. For in that case the writer remains conscious of his public, yet is superior to it-an uncomfortable and unfortunate combination, as the works of Samuel Butler, George Meredith, and Henry James may be taken to prove. Each despised the public; each desired a public; each failed to attain a public; and each wreaked his failure upon the public by a succession, gradually increasing in intensity, of angularities, obscurities, and affectations which no writer whose patron was his equal and friend would have thought it necessary to inflict. Their crocuses, in consequence, are tortured plants, beautiful and bright, but with something wry-necked about them, malformed, shrivelled on the one side, overblown on the other. A touch of the sun would have done them a world of good. Shall we then rush to the opposite extreme and accept (if in fancy alone) the flattering proposals which the editors of The Times and the Daily News may be supposed to make us-'Twenty pounds down for your crocus in precisely fifteen hundred words, which shall blossom upon every breakfast table from John o' Groats to the Land's End before nine o'clock to-morrow morning with the writer's name attached'?

But will one crocus be enough, and must it not be a very brilliant yellow to shine so far, to cost so much, and to have one's name attached to it? The Press is undoubtedly a great multiplier of crocuses. But if we look at some of these plants, we shall find that they are only very distantly related to the original little yellow or purple flower which pokes up through the grass in Kensington Gardens early in March every year. The newspaper crocus is an amazing but still a very different plant. It fills precisely the space allotted to it. It radiates a golden glow. It is genial, affable, warm-hearted. It is beautifully finished, too, for let nobody think that the art of'our dramatic critic' of The Times or of Mr Lynd of the Daily News is an easy one. It is no despicable feat to start a million brains running at nine o'clock in the morning, to give two million eyes something bright and brisk and amusing to look at. But the night comes and these flowers fade. So little bits of glass lose their lustre if you take them out of the sea; great prima donnas howl like hyenas if you shut them up in telephone boxes; and the most brilliant of articles when removed from its element is dust and sand and the husks of straw. Journalism embalmed in a book is unreadable.

The patron we want, then, is one who will help us to preserve our flowers from decay. But as his qualities change from age to age, and it needs considerable integrity and conviction not to be dazzled by the pretensions or bamboozled by the persuasions of the competing crowd, this business of patron-finding is one of the tests and trials of authorship. To know whom to write for is to know how to write. Some of the modern patron's qualities are, however, fairly plain. The writer will require at this moment, it is obvious, a patron with the book-reading habit rather than the play-going habit. Nowadays, too, he must be instructed in the literature of other times and races. But there are other qualities which our special weaknesses and tendencies demand in him. There is the question of indecency, for instance, which plagues us and puzzles us much more than it did the Elizabethans. The twentieth-century patron must be immune from shock. He must distinguish infallibly between the little clod of manure which sticks to the crocus of necessity, and that which is plastered to it out of bravado. He must be a judge, too, of those social influences which inevitably play so large a part in modern literature, and able to say which matures and fortifies, which inhibits and makes sterile. Further, there is emotion for him to pronounce on, and in no department can he do more useful work than in bracing a writer against sentimentality on the one hand and a craven fear of expressing his feeling on the other. It is worse, he will say, and perhaps more common, to be afraid of feeling than to feel too much. He will add, perhaps, something about language, and point out how many words Shakespeare used and how much grammar Shakespeare violated, while we, though we keep our fingers so demurely to the black notes on the piano, have not appreciably improved upon Antony and Cleopatra. And if you can forget your sex altogether, he will say, so much the better; a writer has none. But all this is by the way-elementary and disputable. The patron's prime quality is something different, only to be expressed perhaps by the use of that convenient word which cloaks so much-atmosphere. It is necessary that the patron should shed and envelop the crocus in an atmosphere which makes it appear a plant of the very highest importance, so that to misrepresent it is the one outrage not to be forgiven this side of the grave. He must make us feel that a single crocus, if it be a real crocus, is enough for him; that he does not want to be lectured, elevated, instructed, or improved; that he is sorry that he bullied Carlyle into vociferation, Tennyson into idyllics, and Ruskin into insanity; that he is now ready to efface himself or assert himself as his writers require; that he is bound to them by a more than maternal tie; that they are twins indeed, one dying if the other dies, one flourishing if the other flourishes; that the fate of literature depends upon their happy alliance-all of which proves, as we began by saying, that the choice of a patron is of the highest importance. But how to choose rightly? How to write well? Those are the questions.

Modern Fiction

In making any survey, even the freest and loosest, of modern fiction, it is difficult not to take it for granted that the modern practice of the art is somehow an improvement upon the old. With their simple tools and primitive materials, it might be said, Fielding did well and Jane Austen even better, but compare their opportunities with ours! Their masterpieces certainly have a strange air of simplicity. And yet the analogy between literature and the process, to choose an example, of making motor cars scarcely holds good beyond the first glance. It is doubtful whether in the course of the centuries, though we have learnt much about making machines, we have learnt anything about making literature. We do not come to write better; all that we can be said to do is to keep moving, now a little in this direction, now in that, but with a circular tendency should the whole course of the track be viewed from a sufficiently lofty pinnacle. It need scarcely be said that we make no claim to stand, even momentarily, upon that vantage ground. On the flat, in the crowd, half blind with dust, we look back with envy to those happier warriors, whose battle is won and whose achievements wear so serene an air of accomplishment that we can scarcely refrain from whispering that the fight was not so fierce for them as for us. It is for the historian of literature to decide; for him to say if we are now beginning or ending or standing in the middle of a great period of prose fiction, for down in the plain little is visible. We only know that certain gratitudes and hostilities inspire us; that certain paths seem to lead to fertile land, others to the dust and the desert; and of this perhaps it may be worth while to attempt some account.

Our quarrel, then, is not with the classics, and if we speak of quarrelling with Mr Wells, Mr Bennett, and Mr Galsworthy, it is partly that by the mere fact of their existence in the flesh their work has a living, breathing, everyday imperfection which bids us to take what liberties with it we choose. But it is also true that, while we thank them for a thousand gifts, we reserve our unconditional gratitude for Mr I lardy, for Mr Conrad, and in a much lesser degree for the Mr Hudson of The Purple Land, Green Mansions, and Far Away and Long Ago. Mr Wells, Mr Bennett, and Mr Galsworthy have excited so many hopes and disappointed them so persistently that our gratitude largely takes the form of thanking them for having shown us what they might have done but have not done; what we certainly could not do, but as certainly, perhaps, do not wish to do. No single phrase will sum up the charge or grievance which we have to bring against a mass of work so large in its volume and embodying so many qualities, both admirable and the reverse. If we tried to formulate our meaning in one word we should say that these three writers are materialists. It is because they are concerned not with the spirit but with the body that they have disappointed us, and left us with the feeling that the sooner English fiction turns its back upon them, as politely as may be, and marches, if only into the desert, the better for its soul. Naturally, no single word reaches the centre of three separate targets. In the case of Mr Wells it falls notably wide of the mark. And yet even with him it indicates to our thinking the fatal alloy in his genius, the great clod of clay that has got itself mixed up with the purity of his inspiration. But Mr Bennett is perhaps the worst culprit of the three, inasmuch as he is by far the best workman. He can make a book so well constructed and solid in its craftsmanship that it is difficult for the most exacting of critics to see through what chink or crevice decay can creep in. There is not so much as a draught between the frames of the windows, or a crack in the boards. And yet-if life should refuse to live there? That is a risk which the creator of The Old Wives' Talc, George Cannon, Edwin Clayhanger, and hosts of other figures, may well claim to have surmounted. His characters live abundantly, even unexpectedly, but it remains to ask how do they live, and what do they live for? More and more they seem to us, deserting even the well-built villa in the Five Towns, to spend their time in some softly padded first-class railway carriage, pressing bells and buttons innumerable; and the destiny to which they travel so luxuriously becomes more and more unquestionably an eternity of bliss spent in the very best hotel in Brighton. It can scarcely be said of Mr Wells that he is a materialist in the sense that he takes too much delight in the solidity of his fabric. His mind is too generous in its sympathies to allow him to spend much time in making things shipshape and substantial. He is a materialist from sheer goodness of heart, taking upon his shoulders the work that ought to have been discharged by Government officials, and in the plethora of his ideas and facts scarcely having leisure to realise, or forgetting to think important, the crudity and coarseness of his human beings. Yet what more damaging criticism can there be both of his earth and of his Heaven than that they are to be inhabited here and hereafter by his Joans and his Peters? Does not the inferiority of their natures tarnish whatever institutions and ideals may be provided for them by the generosity of their creator? Nor, profoundly though we respect the integrity and humanity of Mr Galsworthy, shall we find what we seek in his pages.

If we fasten, then, one label on all these books, on which is one word materialists, we mean by it that they write of unimportant things; that they spend immense skill and immense industry making the trivial and the transitory appear the true and enduring.

We have to admit that we are exacting, and, further, that we find it difficult to justify our discontent by explaining what it is that we exact. We frame our question differently at different times. But it reappears most persistently as we drop the finished novel on the crest of a sigh-Is it worth while? What is the point of it all? Can it be that, owing to one of those little deviations which the human spirit seems to make from time to time, Mr Bennett has come down with his magnificent apparatus for catching life just an inch or two on the wrong side? Life escapes; and perhaps without life nothing else is worth while. It is a confession of vagueness to have to make use of such a figure as this, but we scarcely better the matter by speaking, as critics are prone to do, of reality. Admitting the vagueness which afflicts all criticism of novels, let us hazard the opinion that for us at this moment the form of fiction most in vogue more often misses than secures the thing we seek. Whether we call it life or spirit, truth or reality, this, the essential thing, has moved off, or on, and refuses to be contained any longer in such ill-fitting vestments as we provide. Nevertheless, we go on perseveringly, conscientiously, constructing our two and thirty chapters after a design which more and more ceases to resemble the vision of our minds. So much of the enormous labour of proving the solidity, the likeness to life, of the story is not merely labour thrown away but labour misplaced to the extent of obscuring and blotting out the light of the conception. The writer seems constrained, not by his own free will but by some powerful and unscrupulous tyrant who has him in thrall, to provide a plot, to provide comedy, tragedy, love interest, and an air of probability embalming the whole so impeccable that if all his figures were to come to life they would find themselves dressed down to the last button of their coats in the fashion of the hour. The tyrant is obeyed; the novel is done to a turn. But sometimes, more and more often as time goes by, we suspect a momentary doubt, a spasm of rebellion, as the pages fill themselves in the customary way. Is life like this? Must novels be like this?

Look within and life, it seems, is very far from being 'like this'. Examine for a moment an ordinary mind on an ordinary day. The mind receives a myriad impressions-trivial, fantastic, evanescent, or engraved with the sharpness of steel. From all sides they come, an incessant shower of innumerable atoms; and as they fall, as they shape themselves into the life of Monday or Tuesday, the accent falls differently from of old; the moment of importance came not here but there; so that, if a writer were a free man and not a slave, if he could write what he chose, not what he must, if he could base his work upon his own feeling and not upon convention, there would be no plot, no comedy, no tragedy, no love interest or catastrophe in the accepted style, and perhaps not a single button sewn on as the Bond Street tailors would have it. Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end. Is it not the task of the novelist to convey this varying, this unknown and uncircumscribed spirit, whatever aberration or complexity it may display, with as little mixture of the alien and external as possible? We are not pleading merely for courage and sincerity; we are suggesting that the proper stuff of fiction is a little other than custom would have us believe it.

It is, at any rate, in some such fashion as this that we seek to define the quality which distinguishes the work of several young writers, among whom Mr James Joyce is the most notable, from that of their predecessors. They attempt to come closer to life, and to preserve more sincerely and exactly what interests and moves them, even if to do so they must discard most of the conventions which are commonly observed by the novelist. Let us record the atoms as they fall upon the mind in the order in which they fall, let us trace the pattern, however disconnected and incoherent in appearance, which each sight or incident scores upon the consciousness. Let us not take it for granted that life exists more fully in what is commonly thought big than in what is commonly thought small. Any one who has read The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man or, what promises to be a far more interesting work, Ulysses now appearing in the Little Review, will have hazarded some theory of this nature as to Mr Joyce's intention. On our part, with such a fragment before us, it is hazarded rather than affirmed; but whatever the intention of the whole, there can be no question but that it is of the utmost sincerity and that the result, difficult or unpleasant as we may judge it, is undeniably important. In contrast with those whom we have called materialists. Mr Joyce is spiritual; he is concerned at all costs to reveal the flickerings of that innermost flame which flashes its messages through the brain, and in order to preserve it he disregards with complete courage whatever seems to him adventitious, whether it he probability, or coherence, or any other of these signposts which for generations have served to support the imagination of a reader when called upon to imagine what he can neither touch nor see. The scene in the cemetery, for instance, with its brilliancy, its sordidity, its incoherence, its sudden lightning flashes of significance, does undoubtedly come so close to the quick of the mind that, on a first reading at any rate, it is difficult not to acclaim a masterpiece. If we want life itself, here surely we have it. Indeed, we find ourselves fumbling rather awkwardly if we try to say what else we wish, and for what reason a work of such originality yet fails to compare, for we must take high examples, with Youth or The Mayor of Castcrbridge. It fails because of the comparative poverty of the writer's mind, we might say simply and have done with it. But it is possible to press a little further and wonder whether we may not refer our sense of being in a bright yet narrow room, confined and shut in, rather than enlarged and set free, to some limitation imposed by the method as well as by the mind. Is it the method that inhibits the creative power? Is it due to the method that we feel neither jovial nor magnanimous, but centred in a self which, in spite of its tremor of susceptibility, never embraces or creates what is outside itself and beyond? Does the emphasis laid, perhaps didactically, upon indecency, contribute to the effect of something angular and isolated? Or is it merely that in any effort of such originality it is much easier, for contemporaries especially, to feel what it lacks than to name what it gives? In any case it is a mistake to stand outside examining 'methods'. Any method is right, every method is right, that expresses what we wish to express, if we are writers; that brings us closer to the novelist's intention if we are readers. This method has the merit of bringing us closer to what we were prepared to call life itself; did not the reading of Ulysses suggest how much of life is excluded or ignored, and did it not come with a shock to open Tristram Shandy or even Pendennis and be by them convinced that there are not only other aspects of life, but more important ones into the bargain.

However this may be, the problem before the novelist at present, as we suppose it to have been in the past, is to contrive means of being free to set down what he chooses. He has to have the courage to say that what interests him is no longer 'this' but 'that': out of 'that' alone must he construct his work. For the moderns 'that', the point of interest, lies very likely in the dark places of psychology. At once, therefore, the accent falls a little differently; the emphasis is upon something hitherto ignored; at once a different outline of form becomes necessary, difficult for us to grasp, incompre-hensible to our predecessors. No one but a modern, no one perhaps but a Russian, would have felt the interest of the situation which Chekhov has made into the short story which he calls 'Cusev'. Some Russian soldiers lie ill on board a ship which is taking them back to Russia. We are given a few scraps of their talk and some of their thoughts; then one of them dies and is carried away; the talk goes on among the others for a time, until Gusev himself dies, and looking 'like a carrot or a radish' is thrown overboard. The emphasis is laid upon such unexpected places that at first it seems as if there were no emphasis at all; and then, as the eyes accustom themselves to twilight and discern the shapes of things in a room, we see how complete the story is, how profound, and how truly in obedience to his vision Chekhov has chosen this, that, and the other, and placed them together to compose something new. But it is impossible to say 'this is comic', or 'that is tragic', nor are we certain, since short stories, we have been taught, should be brief and conclusive, whether this, which is vague and inconclusive, should be called a short story at all.

The most elementary remarks upon modem English fiction can hardly avoid some mention of the Russian influence, and if the Russians are mentioned one runs the risk of feeling that to write of any fiction save theirs is a waste of time. If we want understanding of the soul and heart where else shall we find it of comparable profundity? If we are sick of our own materialism the least considerable of their novelists has by right of birth a natural reverence for the human spirit. 'Learn to make yourself akin to people . . . But let this sympathy be not with the mind-for it is easy with the mind-but with the heart, with love towards them.' In every great Russian writer we seem to discern the features of a saint, if sympathy for the sufferings of others, love towards them, endeavour to reach some goal worthy of the most exacting demands of the spirit constitute saintliness. It is the saint in them which confounds us with a feeling of our own irreligious triviality, and turns so many of our famous novels to tinsel and trickery. The conclusions of the Russian mind, thus comprehensive and compassionate, are inevitably, perhaps, of the utmost sadness. More accurately indeed we might speak of the inconclusiveness of the Russian mind. It is the sense that there is no answer, that if honestly examined life presents question after question which must be left to sound on and on after the story is over in hopeless interrogation that fills us with a deep, and finally it may be with a resentful, despair. They are right perhaps; unquestionably they see further than we do and without our gross impediments of vision. But perhaps we see something that escapes them, or why should this voice of protest mix itself with our gloom? The voice of protest is the voice of another and an ancient civilization which seems to have bred in us the instinct to enjoy and fight rather than to suffer and understand. English fiction from Sterne to Meredith bears witness to our natural delight in humour and comedy, in the beauty of earth, in the activities of the intellect, and in the splendour of the body. But any deductions that we may draw from the comparison of two fictions so immeasurably far apart are futile save indeed as they flood us with a view of the infinite possibilities of the art and remind us that there is no limit to the horizon, and that nothing-no 'method', no experiment, even of the wildest-is forbidden, but only falsity and pretence. 'The proper stuff of fiction' does not exist; everything is the proper stuff of fiction, every feeling, every thought; every quality of brain and spirit is drawn upon; no perception comes amiss. And if we can imagine the art of fiction come alive and standing in our midst, she would undoubtedly bid us break her and bully her, as well as honour and love her, for so her youth is renewed and her sovereignty assured.

How Should One Read a Book?

In the first place, I want to emphasize the note of interrogation at the end of my title. Even if I could answer the question for myself, the answer would apply only to me and not to you. The only advice, indeed, that one person can give another about reading is to take no advice, to follow your own instincts, to use your own reason, to come to your own conclusions. If this is agreed between us, then I feel at liberty to put forward a few ideas and suggestions because you will not allow them to fetter that independence which is the most important quality that a reader can possess. After all, what laws can be laid down about books? The battle of Waterloo was certainly fought on a certain day; but is Hamlet a better play than Lear? Nobody can say. Each must decide that question for himself. To admit authorities, however heavily furred and gowned, into our libraries and let them tell us how to read, what to read, what value to place upon what we read, is to destroy the spirit of freedom which is the breath of those sanctuaries. Everywhere else we may be bound by laws and conventions-there we have none.

But to enjoy freedom, if the platitude is pardonable, we have of course to control ourselves. We must not squander our powers, helplessly and ignorantly, squirting half the house in order to water a single rose-bush; we must train them, exactly and powerfully, here on the very spot. This, it may be, is one of the first difficulties that faces us in a library. What is 'the very spot'? There may well seem to be nothing but a conglomeration and huddle of confusion. Poems and novels, histories and memories, dictionaries and blue-books; books written in all languages by men and women of all tempers, races, and ages jostle each other on the shelf. And outside the donkey brays, the women gossip at the pump, the colts gallop across the fields. Where are we to begin? How are we to bring order into this multitudinous chaos and so get the deepest and widest pleasure from what we read?

It is simple enough to say that since books have classes-fiction, biography, poetry-we should separate them and take from each what it is right that each should give us. Yet few people ask from books what books can give us. Most commonly we come to books with blurred and divided minds, asking of fiction that it shall be true, of poetry that it shall be false, of biography that it shall he flattering, of history that it shall enforce our own prejudices. If we could banish all such preconceptions when we read, that would be an admirable beginning. Do not dictate to your author; try to become him. Be his fellow-worker and accomplice. If you hang back, and reserve and criticize at first, you are preventing yourself from getting the fullest possible value from what you read. But if you open your mind as widely as possible, then signs and hints of almost imperceptible fineness, from the twist and turn of the first sentences, will bring you into the presence of a human being unlike any other. Steep yourself in this, acquaint yourself with this, and soon you will find that your author is giving you, or attempting to give you, something far more definite. The thirty chapters of a novel if we consider how to read a novel first are an attempt to make something as formed and controlled as a building: but words are more impalpable than bricks; reading is a longer and more complicated process than seeing. Perhaps the quickest way to understand the elements of what a novelist is doing is not to read, but to write; to make your own experiment with the dangers and difficulties of words. Recall, then, some event that has left a distinct impression on you-how at the corner of the street, perhaps, you passed two people talking. A tree shook; an electric light danced; the tone of the talk was comic, but also tragic; a whole vision, an entire conception, seemed contained in that moment.

But when you attempt to reconstruct it in words, you will find that it breaks into a thousand conflicting impressions. Some must be subdued; others emphasized; in the process you will lose, probably, all grasp upon the emotion itself. Then turn from your blurred and littered pages to the opening pages of some great novelist-Defoe, Jane Austen, Hardy. Now you will be better able to appreciate their mastery. It is not merely that we are in the presence of a different person-Defoe, Jane Austen, or Thomas Hardy-but that we are living in a different world. Here, in Robinson Crusoe, we are trudging a plain high road: one thing happens after another; the fact and the order of the fact is enough. But if the open air and adventure mean everything to Defoe they mean nothing to Jane Austen. Hers is the drawing-room, and people talking, and by the many mirrors of their talk revealing their characters. And if, when we have accustomed ourselves to the drawing-room and its reflections, we turn to Hardy, we are once more spun round. The moors are round us and the stars are above our heads. The other side of the mind is now exposed-the dark side that comes uppermost in solitude, not the light side that shows in company. Our relations are not towards people, but towards Nature and destiny. Yet different as these worlds are, each is consistent with itself. The maker of each is careful to observe the laws of his own perspective, and however great a strain they may put upon us they will never confuse us, as lesser writers so frequently do, by introducing two different kinds of reality into the same book Thus to go from one great novelist to another-from Jane Austen to Hardy, from Peacock to Trollope, from Scott to Meredith is to be wrenched and uprooted; to be thrown this way and then that. To read a novel is a difficult and complex art. You must be capable not only of great fineness of perception, but of great boldness of imagination if you are going to make use of all that the novelist-the great artist-gives you.

But a glance at the heterogeneous company on the shelf will show you that writers are very seldom 'great artists'; far more often a book makes no claim to be a work of art at all. These biographies and autobiographies, for example, lives of great men, of men long dead and forgotten, that stand check by jowl with the novels and poems, are we to refuse to read them because they are not 'art'? Or shall we read them, but read them in a different way, with a different aim? Shall we read them in the first place to satisfy that curiosity which possesses us sometimes when in the evening we linger in front of a house where the lights are lit and the blinds not yet drawn, and each floor of the house shows us a different section of human life in being? Then we are consumed with curiosity about the lives of these people-the servants gossiping, the gentlemen dining, the girl dressing for a party, the old woman at the window with her knitting. Who are they, what are they, what are their names, their occupations, theirthoughts, and adventures?

Biographies and memoirs answer such questions, light up innumerable such houses; they show us people going about their daily affairs, toiling, failing, succeeding, eating, hating, loving, until they die. And sometimes as we watch, the house fades and the iron railings vanish and we are out at sea; we are hunting, sailing, fighting; we are among savages and soldiers; we are taking part in great campaigns. Or if we like to stay here in England, in London, still the scene changes; the street narrows; the house becomes small, cramped, diamond-paned, and malodorous. We see a poet, Donne, driven from such a house because the walls were so thin that when the children cried their voices cut through them. We can follow him, through the paths that lie in the pages of books, to Twickenham; to Lady Bedford's Park, a famous meeting-ground for nobles and poets; and then turn our steps to Wilton, the great house under the downs, and hear Sidney read the Arcadia to his sister; and ramble among the very marshes and see the very herons that figure in that famous romance; and then again travel north with that other Lady Pembroke, Anne Clifford, to her wild moors, or plunge into the city and control our merriment at the sight of Gabriel Harvey in his black velvet suit arguing about poetry with Spenser. Nothing is more fascinating than to grope and stumble in the alternate darkness and splendour of Elizabethan London. But there is no staying there. The Temples and the Swifts, the Harleys and the St Johns beckon us on; hour upon hour can be spent disentangling their quarrels and deciphering their characters; and when we tire of them we can stroll on, past a lady in black wearing diamonds, to Samuel Johnson and Goldsmith and Garrick; or cross the channel, if we like, and meet Voltaire and Diderot, Madame du Deffand; and so back to England and Twickenham-how certain places repeat themselves and certain names!-where Lady Bedford had her Park once and Pope lived later, to Walpole's home at Strawberry Hill. But Walpole introduces us to such a swarm of new acquaintances, there are so many houses to visit and bells to ring that we may well hesitate for a moment, on the Miss Berrys' doorstep, for example, when behold, up comes Thackeray; he is the friend of the woman whom Walpole loved; so that merely by going from friend to friend, from garden to garden, from house to house, we have passed from one end of English literature to another and wake to find ourselves here again in the present, if we can so differentiate this moment from all that have gone before. This, then, is one of the ways in which we can read these lives and letters; we can make them light up the many windows of the past; we can watch the famous dead in their familiar habits and fancy sometimes that we are very close and can surprise their secrets, and sometimes we may pull out a play or a poem that they have written and see whether it reads differently in the presence of the author. But this again rouses other questions. How far, we must ask ourselves, is a book influenced by its writer's life-how far is it safe to let the man interpret the writer? How far shall we resist or give way to the sympathies and antipathies that the man himself rouses in us-so sensitive are words, so receptive of the character of the author? These are questions that press upon us when we read lives and letters, and we must answer them for ourselves, for nothing can be more fatal than to be guided by the preferences of others in a matter so personal.

But also we can read such books with another aim, not to throw light on literature, not to become familiar with famous people, but to refresh and exercise our own creative powers. Is there not an open window on the right hand of the bookcase? How delightful to stop reading and look out! How stimulating the scene is, in its unconsciousness, its irrelevance, its perpetual movement-the colts galloping round the field, the woman filling her pail at the well, the donkey throwing back his head and emitting his long, acrid moan. The greater part of any library is nothing but the record of such fleeting moments in the lives of men, women, and donkeys. Every literature, as it grows old, has its rubbish-heap, its record of vanished moments and forgotten lives told in faltering and feeble accents that have perished. But if you give yourself up to the delight of rubbish-reading you will be surprised, indeed you will be overcome, by the relics of human life that have been cast out to moulder. It may be one letter-but what a vision it gives! It may be a few sentences but what vistas they suggest! Sometimes a whole story will come together with such beautiful humour and pathos and completeness that it seems as if a great novelist had been at work, yet it is only an old actor, Tate Wilkinson, remembering the strange story of Captain Jones; it is only a young subaltern serving under Arthur Wellesley and falling in love with a pretty girl at Lisbon; it is only Maria Allen letting fall her sewing in the empty drawing-room and sighing how she wishes she had taken Dr Burney's good advice and had never eloped with her Rishy. None of this has any value; it is negligible in the extreme; yet how absorbing it is now and again to go through the rubbishheaps and find rings and scissors and broken noses buried in the huge past and try to piece them together while the colt gallops round the field, the woman fills her pail at the well, and the donkey brays.

But we tire of rubbish-reading in the long run. We tire of searching for what is needed to complete the half-truth which is all that the Wilkinsons, the Bunburys and the Maria Aliens are able to offer us. They had not the artist's power of mastering and eliminating; they could not tell the whole truth even about their own lives; they have disfigured the story that might have been so shapely. Facts are all that they can offer us, and facts are a very inferior form of fiction. Thus the desire grows upon us to have done with half-statements and approximations; to cease from searching out the minute shades of human character, to enjoy the greater abstractness, the purer truth of fiction. Thus we create the mood, intense and generalized, unaware of detail, but stressed by some regular, recurrent beat, whose natural expression is poetry; and that is the time to read poetry when we are almost able to write it.

Western wind, when wilt thou blow?

The small rain down can rain.

Christ, if my love were in my arms,

And I in my bed again!

The impact of poetry is so hard and direct that for the moment there is no other sensation except that of the poem itself. What profound depths we visit then-how sudden and complete is our immersion! There is nothing here to catch hold of; nothing to stay us in our flight. The illusion of fiction is gradual; its effects are prepared; but who when they read these four lines stops to ask who wrote them, or conjures up the thought of Donne's house or Sidney's secretary; or enmeshes them in the intricacy of the past and the succession of generations? The poet is always our contemporary. Our being for the moment is centred and constricted, as in any violent shock of personal emotion. Afterwards, it is true, the sensation begins to spread in wider rings through our minds; remoter senses are reached; these begin to sound and to comment and we are aware of echoes and reflections. The intensity of poetry covers an immense range of emotion. We have only to compare the force and directness of

I shall fall like a tree, and find my grave,

Only remembering that I grieve.

with the wavering modulation of

Minutes are numbered by the fall of sands,

As by an hour glass; the span of time

Doth waste us to our graves, and we look on it;

An age of pleasure, revelled out, comes home

At last, and ends in sorrow; but the life,

Weary of riot, numbers every sand,

Wailing in sighs, until the last drop down,

So to conclude calamity in rest.

or place the meditative calm of

whether we be young or old,

Our destiny, our being's heart and home,

Is with infinitude, and only there;

With hope it is, hope that can never die,

Effort, and expectation, and desire,

And effort evermore about to be,

beside the complete and inexhaustible loveliness of

The moving Moon went up the sky,

And nowhere did abide:

Softly she was going up,

And a star or two beside-

or the splendid fantasy of

And the woodland haunter

Shall not cease to saunter

When, far down some glade,

Of the great world's burning,

One soft flame upturning

Seems, to his discerning,

Crocus in the shade,

to bethink us of the varied art of the poet; his power to make us at once actors and spectators; his power to run his hand into characters as if it were a glove, and be Falstaff or Lear; his power to condense, to widen, to state, once and for ever.

'We have only to compare'-with those words the cat is out of the bag, and the true complexity of reading is admitted. The first process, to receive impressions with the utmost understanding, is only half the process of reading; it must be completed, if we are to get the whole pleasure from a book, by another. We must pass judgment upon these multitudinous impressions; we must make of these fleeting shapes one that is hard and lasting. But not directly. Wait for the dust of reading to settle; for the conflict and the questioning to die down; walk, talk, pull the dead petals from a rose, or fall asleep. Then suddenly without our willing it, for it is thus that Nature undertakes these transitions, the book will return, but differently. It will float to the top of the mind as a whole. And the book as a whole is different from the book received currently in separate phrases. Details now fit themselves into their places. We see the shape from start to finish; it is a barn, a pig-sty, or a cathedral. Now then we can compare book with book as we compare building with building. But this act of comparison means that our attitude has changed; we are no longer the friends of the writer, but his judges; and just as we cannot be too sympathetic as friends, so as judges we cannot be too severe. Are they not criminals, books that have wasted our time and sympathy; are they not the most insidious enemies of society, corrupters, defilers, the writers of false books, faked books, books that fill the air with decay and disease? Let us then be severe in our judgments; let us compare each book with the greatest of its kind. There they hang in the mind the shapes of the books we have read solidified by the judgments we have passed on them-Robinson Crusoe, Emma, The Return of the Native. Compare the novels with these-even the latest and least of novels has a right to be judged with the best. And so with poetry when the intoxication of rhythm has died down and the splendour of words has faded, a visionary shape will return to us and this must be compared with Lear, with Phedre, with The Prelude; or if not with these, with whatever is the best or seems to us to be the best in its own kind. And we may be sure that the newness of new poetry and fiction is its most superficial quality and that we have only to alter slightly, not to recast, the standards by which we have judged the old.

It would be foolish, then, to pretend that the second part of reading, to judge, to compare, is as simple as the first-to open the mind wide to the fast flocking of innumerable impressions. To continue reading without the book before you, to hold one shadow-shape against another, to have read widely enough and with enough understanding to make such comparisons alive and illuminating that is difficult; it is still more difficult to press further and to say, 'Not only is the book of this sort, but it is of this value; here it fails; here it succeeds; this is bad; that is good'. To carry out this part of a reader's duty needs such imagination, insight, and learning that it is hard to conceive any one mind sufficiently endowed; impossible for the most self-confident to find more than the seeds of such powers in himself. Would it not be wiser, then, to remit this part of reading and to allow the critics, the gowned and furred authorities of the library, to decide the question of the book's absolute value for us? Yet how impossible! We may stress the value of sympathy; we may try to sink our own identity as we read. But we know that we cannot sympathize wholly or immerse ourselves wholly; there is always a demon in us who whispers, 'I hate, I love', and we cannot silence him. Indeed, it is precisely because we hate and we love that our relation with the poets and novelists is so intimate that we find the presence of another person intolerable. And even if the results are abhorrent and our judgments are wrong, still our taste, the nerve of sensation that sends shocks through us, is our chief illuminant; we learn through feeling; we cannot suppress our own idiosyncrasy without impoverishing it. But as time goes on perhaps we can train our taste; perhaps we can make it submit to some control. When it has fed greedily and lavishly upon books of all sorts-poetry, fiction, history, biography and has stopped reading and looked for long spaces upon the variety, the incongruity of the living world, we shall find that it is changing a little; it is not so greedy, it is more reflective. It will begin to bring us not merely judgments on particular books, but it will tell us that there is a quality common to certain books. Listen, it will say, what shall we call this? And it will read us perhaps Lear and then perhaps the Agamemnon in order to bring out that common quality. Thus, with our taste to guide us, we shall venture beyond the particular book in search of qualities that group books together; we shall give them names and thus frame a rule that brings order into our perceptions. We shall gain a further and a rarer pleasure from that discrimination. But as a rule only lives when it is perpetually broken by contact with the books themselves-nothing is easier and more stultifying than to make rules which exist out of touch with facts, in a vacuum now at last, in order to steady ourselves in this difficult attempt, it may be well to turn to the very rare writers who are able to enlighten us upon literature as an art. Coleridge and Dryden and Johnson, in their considered criticism, the poets and novelists themselves in their unconsidered sayings, are often surprisingly relevant; they light up and solidify the vague ideas that have been tumbling in the misty depths of our minds. But they are only able to help us if we come to them laden with questions and suggestions won honestly in the course of our own reading. They can do nothing for us if we herd ourselves under their authority and lie down like sheep in the shade of a hedge. We can only understand their ruling when it comes in conflict with our own and vanquishes it.

If this is so, if to read a book as it should be read calls for the rarest qualities of imagination, insight, and judgment, and you may perhaps conclude that literature is a very complex art and that it is unlikely that we shall be able, even after a lifetime of reading, to make any valuable contribution to its criticism. We must remain readers; we shall not put on the further glory that belongs to those rare beings who are also critics. But still we have our responsibilities as readers and even our importance. The standards we raise and the judgments we pass steal into the air and become part of the atmosphere which writers breathe as they work. An influence is created which tells upon them even if it never finds its way into print. And that influence, if it were well instructed, vigorous and individual and sincere, might be of great value now when criticism is necessarily in abeyance; when books pass in review like the procession of animals in a shooting gallery, and the critic has only one second in which to load and aim and shoot and may well be pardoned if he mistakes rabbits for tigers, eagles for barndoor fowls, or misses altogether and wastes his shot upon some peaceful cow grazing in a further field. If behind the erratic gunfire of the press the author felt that there was another kind of criticism, the opinion of people reading for the love of reading, slowly and unprofessionally, and judging with great sympathy and yet with great severity, might this not improve the quality of his work? And if by our means books were to become stronger, richer, and more varied, that would be an end worth reaching.

Yet who reads to bring about an end, however desirable? Are there not some pursuits that we practise because they are good in themselves, and some pleasures that are final? And is not this among them? I have sometimes dreamt, at least, that when the Day of Judgment dawns and the great conquerors and lawyers and statesmen come to receive their rewards-their crowns, their laurels, their names carved indelibly upon imperishable marble-the Almighty will turn to Peter and will say, not without a certain envy when He sees us coming with our books under our arms, 'Look, these need no reward. We have nothing to give them here. They have loved reading.'

目　录

观念

《伟大的思想》中文版序

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

炫耀性消费

Thorstein Veblen Conspicuous Consumption

返回总目录

图书在版编目（CIP）数据

炫耀性消费：英汉双语／（美）凡勃伦著；任海音译．—北京：中国对外翻译出版有限公司，2011.12

（企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想）

ISBN 978-7-5001-3319-3

Ⅰ．①炫…　Ⅱ．①凡…　②任…　Ⅲ．①英语—汉语—对照读物　②消费经济　Ⅳ．①H319.4:F

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2011）第247451号

www. penguin. com

The Theory of the Leisure Class first published 1899

This extract published in Penguin Books 2005

Set by Rowland Phototypesetting Ltd, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk

出版发行／中国对外翻译出版有限公司

地　　址／北京市西城区车公庄大街甲4号物华大厦6层

电　　话／(010) 68359376　68359303　68359719

邮　　编／100044

传　　真／(010) 68357870

电子邮箱／book@ctpc.com.cn

网　　址／http://www.ctpc.com.cn

出版策划／张高里

责任编辑／梁　斐

封面设计／奇文堂·潘峰

排　　版／竹叶图文

印　　刷／保定市中画美凯印刷有限公司

规　　格／760×940毫米　1/32　　印　　张／6.25

版　　次／2012年3月第一版　　　印　　次／2012年3月第一次

ISBN 978-7-5001-3319-3　定价：14.00元

“企鹅”及相关标识是企鹅图书有限公司已经注册或尚未注册的商标。未经允许，不得擅用。

中国对外翻译出版有限公司与企鹅图书有限公司联合出版

观　念

——《伟大的思想》代序

梁文道

每隔一段时间，媒体就喜欢评选一次“影响世界的X个人”或者“改变历史的X项发明”。然而，在我看来，几乎所有人类史上最重大的变革，首先都是一种观念的变革。

我们今天之所以会关注气候的暖化与生物多样性的保存，是因为我们看待地球的方式变了，我们比以前更加意识到人在自然中的位置，也更加了解自然其实是一个动态的系统。放弃了人类可以主宰地球的世界观，这就意味着我们接受了一个观念的变化。同样地，我们不再相信男人一出生就该主宰女人，甚至也不再认为男女之别是不可动摇的本质区分；这也是观念的变化。如果说环保运动和女权运动有任何影响的话，那些影响一定就是从大脑开始的。也不要只看好事，20世纪最惨绝人寰的浩劫最初也只不过是一些小小的观念，危险的观念。比如说一位德国人，他相信人类的进化必以“次等种族”的灭绝为代价……

这套丛书不叫“伟大的巨著”，是因为它们体积都不大，而且还有不少是抽取自某些名著的章节。可它们却全是伟大的观念，例如达尔文论天择，潘恩论常识，它们共同构成了人类的观念地图。从头看它们一遍，就是检视文明所走过的道路，从深处理解我们今天变成这个样子的原因。

也许你会发现其中有些陌生的名字，或者看起来没有那么“伟大”的篇章（譬如普鲁斯特追忆他的阅读时光），但你千万不要小看它们。因为真正重要、真正能够产生启蒙效果的观念往往具有跨界移动的能力，它会跨越时空，离开它原属的领域，在另一个世界产生意外的效果。就像马可·波罗在监狱里述说的异国图景，当时有谁料得到那些荒诞的故事会诱发出哥伦布的旅程呢？我也无法猜测，这套小书的读者里头会不会有下一个哥伦布，他将带着令人惊奇的观念航向自己的大海。

《伟大的思想》中文版序

企鹅《伟大的思想》丛书2004年开始出版。在英国，已付印80种，尚有20种计划出版。美国出版的丛书规模略小，德国的同类丛书规模更小一些。丛书销量已远远超过200万册，在全球很多人中间，尤其是学生当中，普及了哲学和政治学。中文版《伟大的思想》丛书的推出，迈出了新的一步，令人欢欣鼓舞。

推出这套丛书的目的是让读者再次与一些伟大的非小说类经典著作面对面地交流。太长时间以来，确定版本依据这样一个假设——读者在教室里学习这些著作，因此需要导读、详尽的注释、参考书目等。此类版本无疑非常有用，但我想，如果能够重建托马斯·潘恩《常识》或约翰·罗斯金《艺术与人生》初版时的环境，重新营造更具亲和力的氛围，那也是一件有意思的事。当时，读者除了原作者及其自身的理性思考外没有其他参照。

这样做有一定的缺点：每个作者的话难免有难解或不可解之处，一些重要的背景知识会缺失。例如，读者对亨利·梭罗创作时的情况毫无头绪，也不了解该书的接受情况及影响。不过，这样做的优点也很明显。最突出的优点是，作者的初衷又一次变得重要起来——托马斯·潘恩的愤怒、查尔斯·达尔文的灵光、塞内加的隐逸。这些作家在那么多国家影响了那么多人的生活，其影响不可估量，有的长达几个世纪，读他们书的乐趣罕有匹敌。没有亚当·斯密或阿图尔·叔本华，难以想象我们今天的世界。这些小书的创作年代已很久远，但其中的话已彻底改变了我们的政治学、经济学、智力生活、社会规划和宗教信仰。

《伟大的思想》丛书一直求新求变。地区不同，收录的作家也不同。在中国或美国，一些作家更受欢迎。英国《伟大的思想》收录的一些作家在其他地方则默默无闻。称其为“伟大的思想”，我们亦慎之又慎。思想之伟大，在于其影响之深远，而不意味着这些思想是“好”的，实际上一些书可列入“坏”思想之列。丛书中很多作家受到同一丛书其他作家的很大影响，例如，马塞尔·普鲁斯特承认受约翰·罗斯金影响很大，米歇尔·德·蒙田也承认深受塞内加影响，但其他作家彼此憎恨，如果发现他们被收入同一丛书，一定会气愤难平。不过，读者可自行决定这些思想是否合理。我们衷心希望，您能在阅读这些杰作中得到乐趣。

《伟大的思想》出版者

西蒙·温德尔

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

Penguin's Great Ideas series began publication in 2004. In the UK we now have 80 copies in print with plans to publish a further 20. A somewhat smaller list is published in the USA and a related, even smaller series in Germany. The books have sold now well over two million copies and have popularized philosophy and politics for many people around the world — particularly students. The launch of a Chinese Great Ideas series is an extremely exciting new development.

The intention behind the series was to allow readers to be once more face to face with some of the great nonfiction classics. For too long the editions of these books were created on the assumption that you were studying them in the classroom and that the student needed an introduction, extensive notes, a bibliography and so on. While this sort of edition is of course extremely useful, I thought it would be interesting to recreate a more intimate feeling — to recreate the atmosphere in which, for example, Thomas Paine's Common Sense or John Ruskin's On Art and Life was first published — where the reader has no other guide than the original author and his or her own common sense.

This method has its severe disadvantages — there will inevitably be statements made by each author which are either hard or impossible to understand, some important context might be missing. For example the reader has no clue as to the conditions under which Henry Thoreau was writing his book and the reader cannot be aware of the book's reception or influence. The advantages however are very clear — most importantly the original intentions of the author become once more important. The sense of anger in Thomas Paine, of intellectual excitement in Charles Darwin, of resignation in Seneca — few things can be more thrilling than to read writers who have had such immeasurable influence on so many lives, sometimes for centuries, in many different countries. Our world would not make sense without Adam Smith or Arthur Schopenhauer — our politics, economics, intellectual lives, social planning, religious beliefs have all been fundamentally changed by the words in these little books, first written down long ago.

The Great Ideas series continues to change and evolve. In different parts of the world different writers would be included. In China or in the United States there are some writers who are liked much more than others. In the UK there are writers in the Great Ideas series who are ignored elsewhere. We have also been very careful to call the series Great Ideas — these ideas are great because they have been so enormously influential, but this does not mean that they are Good Ideas — indeed some of the books would probably qualify as Bad Ideas. Many of the writers in the series have been massively influenced by others in the series — for example Marcel Proust owned so much to John Ruskin, Michel de Montaigne to Seneca. But others hated each other and would be distressed to find themselves together in the same series! But readers can decide the validity of these ideas for themselves. We very much hope that you enjoy these remarkable books.

Simon Winder

Publisher

Great Ideas

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

炫耀性消费

（英汉双语）

［美］托斯丹·凡勃伦　著

任海音　译

中国出版集团公司

中国对外翻译出版有限公司

中文目录

有闲阶级

炫耀性有闲：地位和奴仆

炫耀性消费：女人、奢侈品和鉴赏力

爱好准则：植物与宠物

进入到有闲阶级

远古男性尚武精神的遗存：好战与竞赛

教育的明显无用论

返回分册总目录

有闲阶级

有闲阶级制度在未开化文化的较高阶段得到了最佳发展，举例说，在封建欧洲或者封建日本就是如此。在这些社会中，阶级差别要严格遵守；其中最具有明显经济意义的特点就是各阶级特有的职业有所不同。根据习俗，上等阶层是被免于从事工业劳动的，只从事带有一定荣誉的职业。在任何一个封建社会，最荣耀的职业主要就是战争；祭司通常仅次于战争。如果某一未开化社会并非特别好战，那么祭司也许会居先，而战士次之。但原则是：无论是战士还是祭司，上等阶层总是无须从事工业劳动的，这种豁免是他们上等地位的经济体现，该原则鲜有例外。印度的婆罗门就很好地证明了这两个阶级无须从事工业劳动。在那些处于未开化文化较高阶段的社会里，有很多不同的分支阶级包含于可以被统称为有闲阶级的范围内，这些分支阶级对应的职业也相应不同。总的来说，有闲阶级包括贵族和祭司，连同二者的随从。各阶级的职业相应不同，但是它们有一个共同的经济特性，即都属于非工业性质。这些非工业性的上流职业大致包括统治、战争、宗教仪式和运动。

在较早但非最早的未开化阶段，有闲阶级的形式没有如此分化，阶级之间的界限和有闲阶级各职业之间的差别也都没有这么精细和复杂。波利尼西亚岛民的生活就很好地体现了该发展阶段；不过，有一点是例外——由于缺乏大型猎物，在他们的生活方式中打猎并未占到它通常所占有的地位。中世纪时的冰岛也是一个很好的实例。在那个社会里，各阶级以及各阶级独有的职业之间都有严格的划分。体力劳动、工业劳动或是与谋生直接相关的任何日常工作都是下层阶级的专有职业。这一下层阶级包括奴隶和其他依附者，通常还包括所有妇女。如果贵族中有数个等级，那么较高等级的贵族妇女通常是不从事工业劳动的，或者至少不从事比较粗俗的体力劳动。上等阶层的男性不仅无须而且按习俗他们也被禁止从事工业劳动。他们的受雇范围已被严格规定。正如上文中提到的那样，这类职业无外乎统治、战争、宗教仪式和运动。这四种活动支配着上等阶层的生活方式。对于最高等级，即国王或酋长来说，这些乃是社会风俗或常识所允许的仅有的活动。的确，在这种生活方式充分发展的情况下，对于最高等级的成员来说，即便是运动，是否可以将其看作是正当活动也还是有疑问的。对于那些有闲阶级中较低的几个等级来讲，某些其他职业是开放的，但这些职业附属于上述典型的有闲阶级职业中的这种或那种。比如说，武器、军人配备以及战船的制造和养护，马、犬和鹰的照料和驯养，宗教用品的筹备等。下层阶级是不能从事这些二等的光荣职业的，除非那些职业具有明显工业性，或者与典型的有闲阶级职业只有疏远的联系。

假如我们从这种典型的未开化文化阶段后退一步，回到未开化文化的较低阶段，便发现有闲阶级未得到充分发展。然而，有闲阶级制度是缘于这种较低阶段的未开化文化表现出的习惯、动机和环境，而且这种较低阶段也表明了有闲阶级的前期生长。世界各地的游牧狩猎部落就阐明了这种差别的更为原始的阶段。任何一个北美的狩猎部落都可以被认为是合适的例子。我们几乎不能说这些部落里有一个轮廓分明的有闲阶级。这些部落有职能上的区分以及基于职能差异上的阶级区分，不过上等阶级免于从事工作的程度还不足以使其恰如其分地被称为“有闲阶级”。在这种经济水平上的部落的经济分化已经达到了此种程度，即男女职业存在显著差别，而且是不公平性质的差别。差不多在所有这些部落中，女性都根据约定俗成的惯例从事某些职业，在下个发展阶段中形成的生产性工作就完全源于这些职业。男性是免于从事这些粗俗的职业的，他们要参加的是战争、狩猎、运动以及虔诚的宗教仪式。关于此事存在着极为细微的差别。

这种分工与未开化文化的较高阶段中劳动阶级与有闲阶级之间的区分是一致的。随着职业的多样化和专门化，这样划分的界限就将生产性工作与非生产性工作分开了。未开化阶段前期的男性职业并非后来生产性工作主要部分形成的源头。在后来的发展阶段中残留下来的只有一些不能划分为生产性工作的——战争、政治、运动、学术以及祭司。比较明显的例外是部分渔业以及少量不能确定地划分为生产性工作的特定职业，比如武器、玩具和运动用品的生产制造。几乎所有的生产性工作都源于原始的未开化社会中被划分为女性的工作。

男性的工作在未开化文化的较低阶段对于群体的生活是不可或缺的，其重要性不亚于女性的工作。在群体的食物供应和其他必需品的供应方面，男性出的力也不少。确实，男性工作的“生产性”如此明显，以至于在传统的经济文章中，猎人的工作被认为是原始生产工作的典范。然而，这并非是未开化人的观点。在他自己眼里，他不是一个劳动者，在这方面他不能与女性划为同类；他的努力也不能与女性的苦工一道被划分为劳役或者生产性工作，否则就等于承认其工作与女性的工作相混淆了。在所有的未开化社会中，男性的工作与女性的工作都有显著的区分。男性的工作可能有助于维持群体的日常生活，不过他觉得之所以这样是由于其优秀和努力，拿他的工作与女性平淡的勤勉工作相比必定会对他有所贬损。

在文化程度上再退一步，即观察一下野蛮群体，就会发现，其工作上的区分仍然不太精细，各阶级与各职业间的不公平区分没有那么一致和严格。很难在原始的野蛮文化中找到明确的实例。没有什么被划分为“野蛮人”的群体或团体，不带有从更为先进的文化阶段退化而来的痕迹。然而，有些群体——其中一些很明显不是退化的结果——比较忠实地表明了原始野蛮时代的特性。其文化与未开化社会的差异在于，没有有闲阶级，在很大程度上也没有有闲阶级制度所依托的那种意图或精神态度。这种原始的野蛮群体里没有经济的等级制度，它只占人类很小的、不起眼的一部分。关于这个文化阶段能提供的最好例子就是安达曼群岛［1］的各个部落或者尼尔吉里丘陵［2］的托达人［3］。在这些群体最早与欧洲人接触时，就没有有闲阶级这个方面而言，其生活方式近乎典型。虾夷岛［4］的虾夷人［5］可以被引来做另外一个例子，而且某些布希曼人［6］和爱斯基摩人［7］可能也可以当成例证。把某些普韦布洛［8］群体归到这一类可能不太确切。这里列举的部落中，多数（如果不是全部的话）很可能是从野蛮文化的较高阶段退化而来，其文化并非从未超越过其当前的水平。如果是这样的话，他们被用来做例证可能有些牵强，不过，他们依然可以用来证明他们是真正的“原始”民族。

这些群体没有明确的有闲阶级，他们在社会结构和生活方式等某些特定方面彼此类似。他们是小团体，结构简单陈旧；他们通常爱好和平、长久定居；他们贫穷；个人所有制并非是其经济体系的显著特征。然而，这并非是说这些群体是现有群体中最小的，也不是说他们的社会结构在各方面最不分化；这一类也并非必然包括所有不存在明确的个人所有制的原始社会。但是，值得注意的是，这一类仿佛包括最爱好和平的——也许是所有具有爱好和平特性的——人类原始群体。确实，此类群体成员共有的最为明显的特点就是，面对武力或者欺诈时的温和无能。

那些处于发展低级阶段的群体的风俗和文化特质表明，有闲阶级制度是在原始的野蛮文化转变到未开化文化的过程中逐渐出现的；或者更精确些说，是在生活习惯从爱好和平转变到非常好战中逐渐形成的。有闲阶级制度要形成一种统一形式，需要具备的明显条件是：（1）群落必须拥有一种掠夺性的生活习惯（战争或者大型狩猎，抑或是两者兼备）；也就是说，这种情况下构成早期有闲阶级的男性必须惯于用武力和计谋来施加伤害；（2）生活资料必须能够充分地、简单地获得，以便群体中的一大部分成员可以免于从事日常的劳动。有闲阶级制度是各工作在早期进行区分的结果，按照这种区分，有些工作被认为是有价值的，有些工作则是无价值的。按照这种古老的区分，有价值的工作就是那些可以被归为侵占的工作；无价值的工作就是那些必需的日常工作，里面并不包含太多的侵占因素。

这种区分在现代工业社会没有什么明显的意义，所以，它并没怎么吸引经济学者的注意。根据指导经济研究的现代常识来看，这种区分仿佛只是形式上的、非真实的。不过，即便是在现代生活中，它还是作为一种先入之见根深蒂固地存在着，比如说，我们习惯性地厌恶低贱的工作，这就说明了这一点。这是一种个人的区分，区分出其尊卑。在文化前期，当人们认为个体的力量在事情的发展中起到更直接、更显著的作用时，在日常生活中，侵占就更为关系重大。在更大程度上，利益以此为焦点。所以，基于这一点做出区分在当时仿佛比今天更为迫切、更为明确。于是，作为发展过程中的一个事实，这种区分意义重大，并且有充足的、有效的、具有说服力的根据。

人们习惯性地从利害关系的角度看待一些事实，随着这些利害关系的改变，人们习惯性对这些事实进行区分的根据也发生改变。假如当下的主要利害关系有助于说明眼前的那些事实，那么那些事实就具有显著、真实的特征。无论何人，假如他是习惯性地从另一种观点理解这些事实，并出于另一个目的来进行评价，那无论他基于何种理由做出区分，这些理由看起来都是非真实的。对活动的各种目的和不同方向进行区分和分类的习惯常常在各处都不可避免；因为这是实施一种工作原理或生活方式所不可或缺的。在对生活的事实进行分类时，选中的特定观点，或者明确的特定特征，取决于对事实做出区分时所参照的利害关系。所以，进行区分的根据，以及对事实分类时参照的规范都随着文化的发展渐渐发展；理解这些生活事实的目的发生了改变，观点也随之改变。所以，文化的某一阶段中，人们视为某一类活动或者某一社会阶层的显著决定性特征，在以后的任何阶段中进行分类时都不会保留有同等的重要性。

然而，各标准和观点的变化只是逐渐发生的，而且某种观点一旦被接受之后，很少会被颠覆或者完全得到抑制。人们还是会对生产性工作和非生产性工作习惯性地做出区分；这种现代区分是未开化阶段侵占与苦工之间的区分的变形。诸如战争、政治、公共崇拜以及公共娱乐的职业，在大众看来，与解决生活需要的劳动有着本质的区别。如今，精确的划分与未开化阶段的早期并不一样，不过，大体上的区分并没有完全废弃。

现今隐性的、常识性的划分实际如此：任何努力只有其最终目的是使用“非人类”事物，才能被认为是生产性的。人对人的强制性利用不被算作是具有生产性的；不过，利用外界非人类事物来改善人类生活的努力全部被划分为生产性活动。在充分保留并适应古典传统的经济学家看来，人们“对自然的支配”当前被看作是生产性活动的典型特点。这种对自然的支配产生的生产性力量，被认为应该包括人类征服野兽和所有自然力的力量。就这样在人类与野兽之间划出一条界线。

在其他时代，在那些被灌输了一套不同的先入之见的人看来，这条界线并非恰如我们今天所划的界线。在野蛮时代或者在未开化时代的生活方式下，这条界线是在另一个方面以另一种方式划出的。所有处于未开化文化时代的社会，两组现象之间存在一种敏锐的、无处不在的对立。一组包括未开化人类自己，另一组包括他的食物。在经济现象与非经济现象之间也能感觉到对立感，但这并不是以现代的方式形成的；这种对立并非存在于人类与野兽之间，而是存在于有生气的和无生气的事物之间。

我们在此要特别谨慎地解释一下，未开化人的“有生气的”想要表达的概念与“有生命的”这个词组所表达的并不相同。“有生气的”不只涵盖所有的生物，并且还涵盖很多其他事物。诸如暴风雨、疾病、瀑布等鲜明的自然现象也被认作是“有生气的”；不过，水果及草本植物，甚至是诸如苍蝇、蛆虫、老鼠、绵羊等不起眼的动物，也通常不被看作是“有生气的”，除非将它们作为集体来看。这里用这个词未必暗示了一种内在的灵魂或精灵的存在。这个概念包含了这些事物；信奉万物有灵论的野蛮人或者未开化人认为，这些事物有某种真实的或者假想的主动性，令人敬畏。这一范畴由数量众多、范围很广的自然物体和自然现象组成。这种有无生气之间的差别，在如今一些不善思考的人们的习惯中仍然存在，并依然深深影响着人类生活和自然过程的普遍理论；然而，这对我们如今日常生活的影响并不像在文化和信仰的前期那样巨大，并带来深远的实际结果。

在未开化人看来，无生气的自然提供的加工与利用活动与“有生气的”事物和力量的处理有很大不同。分界线可能会模糊不定，不过大致的区别还是足够真实有力，可以对未开化人的生活方式产生影响。对于那些被理解为“有生气的”的事物，未开化者想象着它们会展开某种目的的活动。正是这种目的论活动的展开才使得某个物体或某种现象具有“生气”。质朴纯洁的野蛮人或未开化者无论在哪里遇到强迫性的活动，他们都用他们唯一的、惯用的说法来分析——这种说法是从他们对自己行动的意识中直接产生的。因而，活动就与人类活动同化了，活动对象也在这个范围内与人类主体同化了。面对这种性质的现象——尤其是面对那些行为非常令人畏惧或令人困惑的现象时——我们就要抱以一种不同的态度，使用与处理无生气的事物时不同的方式。成功处理此种现象是一种侵占性的工作，而非生产性工作。要求的是英勇，而非勤奋。

在这种天真地将事物划分为无生气与有生气两种的做法指导下，原始社会群体的活动就倾向于分成两种类型，用现代语言可以称之为侵占与生产。生产即努力创造出一种新事物，用被动的（“死的”）材料通过制作者的手进行加工，并赋予其新的用途；而侵占活动主要是造成对活动者有用的结果，也就是将先前另一活动者为了达成另一目的而利用的资源转化为达成他自己目的的资源。我们在这里用“死物”这个词语依然是从未开化者的角度出发的，具有深刻的含义。

侵占与苦工之间的差别与两性之间的差别相一致。男性和女性不仅仅在身材和体力上有所不同，也许更重要的是性格上有所差异，这必定就是早期相应分工形成的原因。属于侵占的主要活动一般都归于男性，因为他们更为勇敢、更为魁伟、能够更好地处理突如其来的巨大压力，他们更倾向于自我肯定、主动效仿以及进攻行为。原始部落中成员间在生理特点以及性格方面的整体差异可能是细微的；事实上，在我们熟悉的古老部落中，如安达曼人，这种差异看起来是比较细微、比较无关紧要的。然而，一旦这种按照体形和意图上的差别划分出的界线导致了职责差异的出现，两性间的原本差别也会自行扩大。对于新的工作分配选择性适应的累积过程就此开始，如果群体成员接触到的居住环境和动物群使得他们必须进行大量的锻炼，则更是如此。对大型猎物的习惯性追逐更需要强壮、机敏、凶猛等男子气概，因此，这更加促进并扩大了两性间的职责分化。一旦本群体与其他群体发生了敌对性接触，职责上的分歧就会进一步发展，形成侵占和生产这种成熟形式的差异。

在如此一个掠夺性的狩猎者群体中，战争和狩猎成为身体健硕的男性的职责。女性做其他工作——其他一些不适合从事男性工作的成员也因此被划分为女性的同类。不过，男性的狩猎和作战大致属于同种性质。二者都具有掠夺性；战士和猎人都同样是不劳而获。他们具有侵略性，主张武力和睿智，这很明显不同于女性勤勉而平凡的材料加工工作；男性的工作不能被看作是生产性劳动，而应被认为是通过夺取获得物质。这就是未开化阶段男性的工作，它得到了充分发展，并与女性的工作有着很大的分歧。任何不涉及英勇行为的努力是不值得男性去做的。随着这种传统趋于一致，社会常识就将其确立为行为准则；因此，在这个文化阶段，从道义上讲，除非那些基于英勇之上的，如武力或欺诈，其他任何职业、任何营生，对于有自尊的男性都是不合理的。当这种掠夺性的生活习惯作为长期习性扎根在群体中之后，杀害或者消灭在生存竞争中企图抵抗他或者躲避他的那些对手，征服那些长久困扰他们的敌人并使其归顺，就成为社会经济中身体健硕的男性的公认职责。在很多狩猎部落中，人们非常严格细致地遵守侵占与苦工之间的理论差别，以至于男性不能将其打的猎物带回家，而应派其妻子做这份卑贱的工作。

正如上文已经指出的那样，侵占和苦工之间的差异是工作上的不公平差异。那些被归入侵占性工作的是有价值的、值得尊敬的、高贵的工作；其他不包含侵占成分的工作，尤其是那些暗含从属性或者谦恭性的工作，则是无价值的、低贱的、不光彩的。在阶级和阶级差异的发展过程中，关于尊严、价值或荣誉的概念，无论是应用到个人还是应用到行为，都具有极大的意义，因此有必要解释一下其来历和含义。其心理依据可以进行如下概括。

从选择性的必然性来看，男性是一个行为主体。以他自己的理解，他是展开冲动性活动——“目的论”活动——的中心。他是一个行为主体，在每项行为中寻求实现某种具体的、客观的、不带个人色彩的目的。既然他是这样一个行为主体，他就喜好有效工作，厌恶徒劳无功的努力。他赞赏的是适用性和有效性，摈弃的是徒劳无功、浪费与无能。这种倾向或者习性可以被称为取巧的本能。无论在什么情况下，一旦环境或者生活传统使得人与人在效率方面进行习惯性对比，那么这种取巧的本能就会导致人与人之间竞争性或者歧视性的对比。这种结果会达到何种程度主要取决于该民族的性格。在任何社会中，如果人与人之间习惯进行歧视性对比，那么人们就会追求明显的成功，以便用来博得尊敬。把个人的高效摆在明处就可以得到尊敬，避免指责。结果就是这种取巧的本能导致了力量的竞争性炫耀。

在社会发展的原始阶段，当社会仍习惯于和平的、可能是定居的生活，还没有完善的个人所有制体制时，个人的高效主要而且也常常是在某种职业中得到体现，该职业有利于改善群体生活。在此种群体成员间存在的经济竞争主要是对于生产性工作的适用性。不过，竞争的动机不强，竞争的范围也不大。

当社会经历了从爱好和平的野蛮人阶段到掠夺性的生活阶段之后，竞争的条件发生了变化。竞争的机会和动机在范围上有所扩大，在迫切性方面也有所加强。男性的活动越来越呈现出侵占的特性；狩猎者或者战士中彼此的歧视性对比日益简单，更加寻常。勇猛的有形表现——战利品——被男性认为是生活的必需行头。追逐或者搜捕的战利品被看作是优秀力量的证明。进攻成为公认的行为方式，战利品则是成功侵略的表面上确凿的证据。在这个文化阶段，战斗被公认为自我肯定的一种有价值的形式；通过抢夺或强迫得到的物品或服务充当战斗胜利的传统证据。因此，相比之下，以非抢夺的方式获得的物品被认为是与男性的身份不相称的。生产性工作或者个人服务方面的职业，因为同样的理由也受到憎恶。这样，在侵占性所得与生产性所得之间就出现了歧视性差异。劳动因其有伤尊严而令人厌烦。

对原始的未开化者而言，在“光荣”这个概念的简单内容没有被它自己的衍生物及不断涌现的同类概念所遮蔽时，它似乎没有其他含义，只是优等力量的体现。“光荣的”就意味着“令人敬畏的”；“有价值的”就意味着“有优势的”。光荣的行为归根结底与一次公认为成功的侵略行为无异；如果侵略意味着与人及野兽之间的冲突，那么特别光荣的活动就是拥有强大的实力。按照个性或者“意志力”来分析所有力量的表现，这种习惯天真而古老，而且大大增强了人们对这种强大实力的传统重视。光荣称号在未开化部落中与在更为先进的文化中一样流行，并通常带有“光荣”的简单含义所体现的特性。用来称呼首领、呼求国王和诸神的称号或头衔，通常赋予被称呼的人这种倾向，也就是使其具有压倒一切的力量以及无法抵抗的摧毁性力量。从某种程度上来讲，即便是在当今这个更为文明的社会，这仍然是事实。在纹章上倾向于使用更具掠夺性的飞禽猛兽，就证明了这一点。

在未开化人这种对于价值或光荣的常识性理解下，杀害强大的对手，无论对方是野兽还是人类，这种夺去生命的行为都是最大的光荣。作为杀戮者优势的一种体现，杀戮这一要职给每一次杀戮行为，以及所有杀戮的工具和附属物都镀上了迷人的荣耀。拥有武器是光荣的，使用武器也因此成为一项光荣的事业，即便是用来结束田野里最卑微生物的生命。与此同时，生产性工作则相应地变得可憎，而且，在常识性理解下，使用工具从事生产性工作有失健硕男性的尊严。劳役变得令人厌恶。

在此假定，在文化演化的过程中，原始部落男性开始是处于爱好和平的阶段，其后跨越到了这样一个阶段，即争斗成为群体的公然典型职业。但这并不意味着曾有这么一个突然的转变，从持续的和平、与人为善的阶段突然过渡到之后更高级的生命阶段，在这一阶段第一次发生了战争。也并不意味着所有的和平勤勉在向文化的掠夺性阶段转变时都消失了。可以毫不夸张地说，社会发展的任何早期阶段都存在某种争斗，多多少少会因为争夺女性而发生争斗。原始部落里广为人知的习惯，以及类人猿的习性都证明了这点，而且，人类显著的天性也证明了这一点。

因此也可以持这种反对观点：也许从来没有过这里假设的爱好和平生活的初始阶段。文化演化前不曾发生过争斗的说法是没有意义的。不过，问题不在于是否发生过争斗，不管是偶尔发生或断断续续，甚或经常或者习惯性发生；问题在于是否产生了一种习惯性的好斗心态——从争斗的角度来判断事实与事态的一种普遍习惯。只有当掠夺性的态度成为部落成员习惯性的、公认的精神态度时，当战斗已变成其生活理论的主旋律时，当人们开始从战争的角度对人及事物做出常识性判断时，才可以说到达了掠夺性的文化阶段。

因此，爱好和平的文化阶段与掠夺性的文化阶段之间的实质区别是精神性的，而非机械性的。精神态度的变化是群体生活的物质条件变化的产物，是随着之后的物质环境有利于掠夺性态度而逐步产生的。掠夺性文化的最低限度是一种生产性的限度。掠夺性行为无法成为任何群体、任何阶级的习惯性常规手段，除非生产方法带来高度效率，使人们在维持基本的生存之外，还有东西可以争夺。所以，从和平到掠夺的转变取决于技术知识的增长和工具的使用。在早期，掠夺性文化同样行不通，直到武器有了较高的发展，将人类变成了一种令人生畏的动物。工具和武器的早期发展无疑就是从两个不同的视角看待同一个事实。

只要求助于战斗的方式还没有变成男性的惯性思维，没有成为男性生活中的主要特征，这一部落的生活便可被称为是和平的。一个部落可能会在不同程度上而非完全地表现出这种掠夺态度，因此其生活方式及行为准则也可能会或多或少受到掠夺企图的支配。因此，我们可以设想，掠夺性的文化阶段是逐步形成的，是通过掠夺的倾向、习惯和传统的不断累积而形成的。这种增长归因于部落生活环境的改变，其间得以发展和保留的是那些利于构造掠夺性生活而非和平生活的人类天性、传统和行为标准。

原始文化有这么一个和平阶段的这一假设，很大程度上是取证于心理学而非人类学，在此无法详述。在后面某章节讨论现代文化下残留有多少人性的古老特性时，将会有部分引述。

注释

［1］安达曼群岛（Andamans）：孟加拉湾与安达曼海之间的岛群，属印度。北隔普雷帕里斯海峡，与大陆相距约220公里。南隔十度海峡遥接尼科巴群岛。共有204个岛屿，以北、中、南小安达曼岛为主。面积6,461平方公里。多火山与丘陵。群岛呈长串形，自北而南排列，长467公里。——译者注

［2］尼尔吉里（Nilgiri）丘陵：位于印度德干半岛西南部，泰米尔纳德邦西北端与喀拉拉邦交界处。面积约2,560平方公里。是东高止山与西高止山会合处，海拔1,800—2,400米，多达贝塔峰海拔2,637米。四周陡峭，北有莫亚尔河、南有珀瓦尼河环绕。——译者注

［3］托达人（Todas）：印度南部尼尔吉里（Nilgiri）山区的游牧民族。托达人专门崇拜水牛，认为这是重要的宗教信仰。一妻多夫制普遍。兄弟数人可共有一妻。——译者注

［4］虾夷岛（Yezo）：日本北部大岛北海道Hokkaido的旧称。——译者注

［5］虾夷人（Ainu）：又译阿伊努人，是日本地区最早土著民族，现在为日本唯一的少数民族，已逐渐被大和民族同化。——译者注

［6］布希曼人（Bushman）：生活在非洲南部碦拉哈里沙漠中，寻找水源是其生存的关键。布希曼人傍晚将树叶放在地上，第二天凌晨便可搜集宝贵的露水。沙漠中一种块状植物的根茎，是最受欢迎的宝贝，用利器割下表皮，用力挤压即可得到汁液。布希曼人额骨突起，头发浓密而卷曲，即使成年男性的身高也仅在1.5米左右。尤其与众不同的是，他们的椎骨的下部弯曲并向外突出。由于没有文字，“岩画”成了布希曼人交流的重要途径。——译者注

［7］爱斯基摩人（Eskimo）：北极地区的土著民族。自称因纽特人，分布在从西伯利亚、阿拉斯加到格陵兰的北极圈内外。属蒙古人种北极类型。先后创造了用拉丁字母和斯拉夫字母拼写的文字。多信万物有灵和萨满教，部分信基督教新教和天主教。住房有石屋、木屋和雪屋。房屋一半陷入地下，门道极低。一般养狗，用以拉雪橇。主要从事陆地或海上狩猎，辅以捕鱼和驯鹿。以猎物为主要生活来源：以肉为食，毛皮做衣物，油脂用于照明和烹饪，骨牙作工具和武器。——译者注

［8］普韦布洛（Pueblo）人：史前阿纳萨齐人的有史时期的后裔。住在美国亚利桑那州东北和新墨西哥州西北的若干地点，密集定居，名为“普韦布洛”（西班牙语意为“村”或“镇”）。——译者注

炫耀性有闲：地位和奴仆

此处所用的“有闲”，并不是意味着懒散或无所作为，而是非生产性的时间消耗。他们非生产性的时间消耗是由于：（1）生产性的工作没有价值；（2）证明自己的金钱能力能够支持悠闲生活。但是绅士整个的有闲生活并不是在旁观者的注视下度过的，尽管要给那些旁观者留下的印象就是，这种值得尊敬的有闲构成了绅士们理想的生活。这种有闲生活的某些部分是不能为公众所知的，也就是其私下的时间，但为其名声着想，他会为此做出使人信服的解释。他会找出一些方法来证明其不在公众视线内的有闲。当然这一点仅能间接地，通过表现一些有形的、持续的有闲生活的结果来表示，这与其雇用的工匠和仆人的工作情形一样，也易于表现有形和持久的成果。

生产型劳动的持久证明就是其物质产品——通常是一些消费品。就侵占活动而言，若想表现一些有形的结果，同样也可能，并且通常情况下通过展示其纪念品和战利品来实现。在发展的稍晚期阶段，佩戴一些荣誉勋章来表现其传统意义上的为大家所接受的功绩标志，这已成为一种习俗，并且这类标志同时表明其战利品的数量和功绩的大小。随着人口密度的加大，人类关系趋于复杂和多样化，所有生活细节都在经历一番精心安排和挑选。在其精挑细选的过程中，战利品的使用则演变成规定其品级、头衔、等次、官职的体系，这其中典型的实例就是各类纹章、奖牌和荣誉佩饰。

从经济观点来看，将有闲视为一种工作，在性质上是同侵占的生活密切相关的。其成就则是以有闲生活为特征，维持其利益的准则，与侵占的战利品有诸多相似。但是狭义上的有闲，与侵占生活有所不同，并且与在生产无实际用途的产品上所作的生产性努力也不同，通常情况下它并不留下物质产品。所以，过去有闲的表现标准通常是以非物质产品为表现形式。而过去有闲的非物质性证明就是准学术性的或准艺术性的成就，还有就是对人类生活的进步并无直接帮助的处理方式和一些琐碎小事的知识。所以，在我们的时代，就有诸如以下学术研究：古代的语言和神秘学；正确的拼写；句法学和韵律学；家庭音乐的各种形式和其他家庭艺术；服饰、家具、设备的最新特性；还有关于比赛、运动以及血统优良的动物，比如狗和赛马等的研究。获得关于所有这些五花八门的知识，在最初是有其动机，并且通过这样的动机而趋于流行的，不过这些动机并非是人们为了表明自己没有把时间花费在生产性的工作上；除非这些成果被证明可以作为非生产性的工作来消费时间的证据，否则，将不可能流传并且在有闲阶级的传统成果中占有一席之地。

在某种意义上，这些成果可以被归类为学术的分支。但除了学术研究之外，还有一些社会因素的影响，使其从学术的范畴中脱离出来，进入到生活习惯和技巧的领域之内，诸如我们一般所熟知的在正式或者典礼的场合必须遵守的礼貌与教养、礼节的使用、礼法等。这些事实都是直接地、突出地显露在外面，因此人们便更加广泛地、坚决地遵守，并以此作为其有闲阶层的尊荣程度的标志。值得注意的是，那些可以被广泛地称作礼仪的表现，在以明显的有闲最为盛行并且作为荣誉标志的文化阶段，在人们心目中是拥有很高地位的，其地位之高超过了文化发展的稍晚阶段。在准和平时代的生产阶段，作为一名有教养的未开化者，对礼仪是着实讲究的，而后世的人只有礼节考究到家的人才能勉强赶得上。众所周知，至少现在是这样认为，宗法制时代离去之后，礼节已经越来越退化了。许多旧派的先生们看到现代的工业社会里，那些上层社会的人举止不雅，甚至是缺乏教养，总会严词批评，唏嘘不已；工业阶级中礼仪准则的败坏——抑或是称为“生活的粗俗化”——在那些多愁善感的人眼中就是现代文明主要的祸害之一。现代人较为繁忙，而礼节则在他们手上败坏——抛开上述批评不算——事实就是礼节是有闲阶级的产物和象征，并且只有在注重身份地位的时代才能充分地发展盛行。

礼节的起源，或者说缘由，并不是那些有教养的人们以一种自觉的方式将其较多时间花费在学会礼节这件事上，毫无疑问，而是应在别处寻找。在仪态举止上革新和精益求精的直接目的，就是使人们在美或者是表情方面的新的理解方式达到一个更高的有效程度。按照人类学家和社会学家所惯于假设的情况，在很大程度上，礼法的开始和发展可以归结于想得到尊重或者是示好的愿望，但是在其稍后发展的任何阶段，有教养的人们的行为则缺少这种动机。我们被灌输的礼节部分是举止的端庄，部分是象征性的、习惯性的残余，代表着原来的统治、个人的服从抑或是人与人之间的接触。在很大程度上，它们是地位关系的一种表达——用动作来表示一方是统治方，另一方是服从方。现在这个时代无论是在哪儿，凡是拥有掠夺性的习惯思想，以及相应的统治与屈服态度的人，行动上的拘泥礼节就会受到极端重视。其刻意遵守按品级、官衔，在礼仪上分别尊卑的情况，同准和平游牧文化下的未开化者的典型极为接近。欧洲某些大陆国家就是这种精神存在的极佳例证。在这些国家里，人们十分尊重礼节，并且认为其具有内在价值，这与古老的典型十分相似。

礼节起初是一种象征，一种姿态，并且在作为事实的象征和性质的代表时才具有实用性。但是现在礼节已发生了变形，已经普遍超越了在人类交往中的象征事实。礼节，现在就广泛的意义而言，本身就是一种实际效用，并且获得了一种神圣的特点，大部分同它原来象征的事实无关。这种礼仪的缺失已经为所有人所唾弃，在日常生活的理解中，好的教养不仅仅是人类品质优秀的表面标志，更是人类心灵美好的必备特征。很少有像破坏礼仪这样的行为激起我们本能的反感。并且迄今为止，我们就遵守礼节具有内在价值这一观点已经取得了进步，那就是，几乎所有人都认为若有违礼的行为，那违礼之人便一无可取。背信弃义似乎可以被宽恕，但是违礼却不可饶恕。“举止造就人品。”

而且，当礼节具有内在的实用性，在执行者和旁观者的眼中，礼节的内在正确性只是礼节和教养成为时尚的一个近因。其外在的、经济的原因则是有闲的荣誉特性或者是非生产性的时间和精力的消耗。若非如此，是不会有较高的修养的。良好的学识和习惯的养成，需要长期的锻炼。高雅的品位、礼貌、生活习惯是出身名门望族的证明。因为良好的修养需要时间、实践和费用，而那些把时间和精力都花费在工作上的人只能望而却步。熟谙礼节是一种不言而喻的证据，它说明这位有教养、有礼貌的先生的某些生活部分，尽管不为外人所知，但是相宜地消耗在了一些无利可图的成就上。综上所述，礼节的价值在于它是有闲生活的证明。因此，反而言之，既然有闲是证明金钱名誉的习惯方式，所以凡是希望得到不错的经济条件的人，就不得不在精通礼节上下些工夫。

大部分有闲的荣誉生活不能完全为外人所知，所以若想达到获得荣誉的目的，就必须留下一些有形的、可见的结果作为证明，并且与同等阶级渴望得到荣誉而展示的产品进行衡量和比较。简单地坚决摒弃劳动，并且不把追求富贵之类的事情放在心上，也不去刻意追求那种尊荣的气派，此种情况下，也会养成有闲的礼节和仪态等。极有可能的是，这种有闲生活经过若干代之后，会在其面容、生活习惯和仪态方面留下明显并且不变的痕迹。这些人经过长期有闲生活的积累，对于礼节已是驾轻就熟，如果再对如何取得荣誉有闲的标志进行钻研并加以利用，则可提高自己，然后在热烈、有系统的锻炼当中把脱离劳动的外在标志表现出来。一般而言，勤恳努力，并且加以适当的费用，会使有闲阶级在礼仪应用上更加熟练。反过来说，熟练程度越高，对于那些无利可图或没有实用目的的礼仪规范遵守的习惯性程度会更高，其证据也会更明显，为了取得此项荣誉，在时间上、物力上付出的代价愈大，则所获得的荣誉也愈大。因此，在竞相争取精通礼节的斗争中，守礼习惯的培养，必须遭受诸多痛苦，关于礼节的诸多细节，因此也就发展成为包罗万象的纪律，凡是要保持相当荣誉的，就得信守这方面的条条框框。另一方面，这种明显的有闲——礼节是它的一个派生物——也因此逐渐发展成为态度方面的艰苦训练，发展成为在品位与事物辨别方面的教育，例如哪些消费品是适宜的，哪种消费方式是适宜的等。

在这个方面值得注意的是，巧妙的模仿与系统的训练可能使人们在体格和态度方面发生一种病态的或其他特异性的变化。人们利用这种可能性有意造就一种文化阶级，并往往收到很好的效果。用这种方式，通过世俗所谓趋炎附势的过程，许多家族和宗族迅速地演变成为名门望族。这种迅速演变成名门望族所产生的结果，就其作为民族中一个有闲阶级因素的适用性来说，其适用程度实际上并不低于另一类人，这类人在金钱的属性上也许受过长期的锻炼，但是这种锻炼却缺乏深度。

此外，关于消费方面一些适宜的方式方法，与时下公认的礼仪细节的符合程度有多高，是可以衡量的。对于这些细节方面的理想标准，符合程度的高低因人而异，其不同情况是可以互相比较的，并且可以按照礼貌和修养方面的累进尺度，准确而有效地将他们划分等级。在对这方面应给予的荣誉作出判定时，一般总是本着诚信的原则，是以对相关事物的公认爱好准则的符合程度为依据的，当时也并不有意识地兼顾到对方的经济地位和有闲程度。但作出判定时所依据的爱好准则，是一直处于明显有闲法则的监视之下的，而且为了严格地符合要求，这类准则实际上一直在变化和修改中。因此，虽然每次的标准不尽相同，但辨别遵守礼仪程度的普遍原则和不变标准基本上仍然是明显地虚耗时间这一要求。在这一原则的范围以内，可能有很多细节上的波动，但只是在形式和表现上有所差别，本质上仍然是一样的。

当然，每天的人际交往中的礼貌，大部分情况就是体贴和善良的直接表现，若解释其存在或者为何受到认可，大都不需要去追溯任何潜在的荣誉方面的原因。但是这种观点却不适用于礼法。礼法是地位的表现。当然，对于一个愿意用心观察的人来说，已是足够明显了。我们对待仆人和下级经济依附者的态度，是由于身份关系处于上级地位的态度，虽然其表现同原来的粗暴统治比起来，一般已经大有改善并且温和了许多。同样，我们对待上级，或者是大多数情况下对待同辈人士时，则或多或少带有一些卑微的习惯态度。当我们看到一些高傲的先生或者太太那不可一世的态度时，他们的态度在很大程度上表现了其经济条件的统治性和独立性，并且同时以令人信服的力量让我们相信什么是正义和优雅。在最高级的有闲阶级中，没有上级并且鲜有同辈者，而礼节则得到了最充分并且最成熟的表现，正是最高级的有闲阶级使礼节有了模型，并且使其作为准则让下级遵守。最明显的就是地位准则，它与粗俗的生产性工作是不相容的。非凡的断言以及傲慢的风度，惯于要求别人奉承，从来不考虑未来，是一位最佳绅士生来就有的权利和标准。按大众理解还不止如此，因为这种态度被认为是优秀品质的本质特征，出身微贱的平民应该乐于臣服屈从。

前面的某一个章节表明，我们有理由相信私有制起源于对人的占有，尤其是对女人的占有。获得这些财产的动因明显是：（1）统治和压迫的倾向；（2）用这些人作为所有者具有威信的证明；（3）使用他们的劳役。

但在经济发展的过程中，个人劳役具有特殊的地位。在准和平的生产时代，尤其是在生产事业仍处在早期发展阶段的限制之下，使用个人劳役看起来普遍上是想获得这些人并将其占有的动机。奴仆之所以有价值是因为他们的劳役。但这一动机的优势，并不会由于奴仆所具有上述两个效用的绝对重要性有所降低，更确切地说由于生活环境的变化，使奴仆所具有的最后一种效用显得格外突出。女人和奴仆都具有很高的价值，既可以作为财富的证明，又可以作为一种聚集财富的方式。如果这个牧场以畜牧为主，财产和牛群就是取得利润的普遍投资方式。女性奴隶是准和平时代的一个特色，在有些阶段，女奴仆甚至可以作为那个时代的人们的价值单位，例如在荷马时代就是如此。凡是有这样的情况，毋庸置疑其生产系统的基础就是奴役制度，而且女人们通常是奴隶。在这样一个系统里，普遍而主要的人类关系就是主人与奴仆的关系。人们普遍接受的财富证明就是拥有众多女人，以及拥有其他奴隶为其服务并且生产财物。

不久就发生了劳动分工，在这种情况下，对主人的个人劳役和服务就成为一部分奴仆的专门工作，而那些完全从事于生产工作的奴仆则与主人的直接关系越来越远。同时，对于那些本职工作就是提供个人劳役，还包括家务劳动的奴仆来说，则逐渐脱离了那些为利而从事的生产工作。

而逐渐脱离普通的生产性工作通常是由主人的妻子或者是其正室开始的。整个社会进展到定居生活之后，从敌对部落掠夺女人为妻已难以实行，已经不能作为妻妾的习惯来源。文化发展到这一阶段之后，其正室一般要出身名门世家，这一事实就加速将其从粗俗的工作中解脱出来。关于高贵血统这一概念的起源方式，以及它在婚姻发展过程中所占的地位，此处不予讨论。就这里的研究目的来说，可以充分说明：所谓名门世家，是由于长期累积财富并与某些特权有渊源因而受到尊崇的世家。有着这样身家背景的女子，在婚姻中很受偏爱，既因为要和她那些有权势的亲戚联姻，又因为她的血统与诸多财产和巨大权力密切相关，人们觉得她的血统本身就具有高贵的价值。她将仍然会是她丈夫的动产，正如在她被丈夫购入之前，她是父亲的动产，但是结婚之后，由于父亲她还是拥有高贵血统。因此，使其从事与奴仆们一样的低贱工作似乎于礼不合。然而她还要完全听命于她的主人，并且在其社会阶层中，不管她的地位如何次于男性成员，高贵血统可以传承，将其地位置于普通奴隶之上。一旦这个原则获得认可，她就在一定程度上获得了有闲，而有闲就是高贵的主要标志。通过可传承的高贵原则的推动，如果她的拥有者的财力允许，她的劳动解除范围就会扩大，直到一些低贱的奴仆工作和手工劳动也被包括在内。随着生产事业的不断发展，财富慢慢聚集在较少人的手中，传统的上层阶级的财富标准开始提高。从手工劳动中摆脱出来，并且从奴仆的家务劳动中摆脱出来，这一趋势不断演变，可以普及到主人的其他妻子身上，如果可能的话，甚至可以推广到贴身服侍主人的奴仆身上。奴仆与主人的直接关系越远，他摆脱劳役的时间就越缓慢。

如果主人的财力允许，贴身奴仆这一特殊阶级也会由于个人劳役对于主人的重要性日益增进而得到发展。主人的身体是财富和荣誉的化身，具有重要的地位。既是为了他在社会中的地位，也是为了他的自尊，他应当拥有得力而且专职的奴仆供其差遣，服侍主人的身体就是这些奴仆主要的工作，而且他们不应被其他工作所牵绊。这些专职奴仆的主要工作不是提供实际服务，而是供其主人炫耀。当然也不能说他们只是简单地被用来炫耀，而是通过让主人对其支配欲拥有发泄的余地从而让主人得到满足感。的确，当主人的家居用品不断增加后，劳动力也需要不断增加，但是如果增加家居用品的目的是为了博得一个好名声，而不是用来实际享受，这个条件对此处论点则无太大意义。这类高度专业化的奴仆越多，上述效用就能得到更好的发挥。因此结果就是家居仆人和贴身侍从的不断增加，不断分化，这样此类奴仆从生产性的劳动中尽快摆脱出来的倾向也日益演进。主人用他们的服务来证明其支付能力，他们的职务内容变得越来越空虚，最后他们的服务变成了徒有虚名。对于那些与主人接触最为密切，并且对外最显露的仆人而言，情形更是如此。所以这些仆人的效用在大部分情况下，最终就是使他们明显从生产性劳动中摆脱出来，同时也证明了他们主人的财富和权势。

为了表现其明显有闲而雇用一群专门奴仆的风气得到发展之后，就外表的壮观而言，男仆优于女仆。尤其是健壮的男人当随从或者家奴，显然比女仆壮观，价格也更贵。他们更适合这种工作，比如在炫耀浪费时间和人类精力上等。在有闲阶级的经济条件下就发生了这样的变化，在早期的族长制时代，围绕在终日忙忙碌碌的主妇身边的是一群辛勤劳作的女仆，而今是尊贵的夫人，后面跟着一群强健仆人。

在生活的各个级别和阶段，以及生产发展的任何阶段，尊贵夫人及其仆人的有闲与出于自有权利的绅士的有闲不同，前者的有闲是外表上看起来很辛苦的职务。它的表现形式，在很大程度上是服务主人时的不辞辛苦，或者是布置屋内陈设时的殚精竭虑。所以在这个意义上的有闲就是这个阶级很少或者是几乎不做生产性工作，但并不是对所有工作都避而远之。尊贵夫人所从事的工作，或者其奴仆所从事的工作都是很繁重的，他们这样做极其必要，目的就是使整个家庭舒适无比。这类服务是有助于主人或家庭中其他成员的身体健康或物质享受的，就这一点来说，这似乎也可以算是生产性工作。只有这种有效工作以外的剩余部分，才应当看作是有闲的表现。

但是，在现代日常生活中列入家务操作范围内的许多劳务，以及文明人在生活享受上所需要的很多所谓“有用事物”，实际上是属于礼仪性质的。因此按照这里使用的“有闲”这个字眼的意义，肯定得把这类劳务归类为有闲的表现。从为了生活得更好这个观点来看，这类劳务是迫切需要的。为了个人享受也是必要的，尽管它们主要或者全部是礼仪性质的。还有一层，这类劳务正是由于有了这样的性质，对我们来说才成为必要的，因为我们已经养成了需要这类劳务的习惯，已经坚信不这样做是越规违礼的。若没有这类劳务，我们会感到不舒服，但并不是因为没有这类劳务而直接导致我们身体上的不舒服，有些人的爱好可能还没有经过训练来区分传统上的好坏之别，因此也并不会由于缺少它们而觉得愤慨。情况就是这样，花费在这种劳务上的劳动被归类为有闲，当这样的有闲，由家庭中经济独立、当家做主的家长以外的人来表现时，就应当看作是代理性的有闲。

在家务操作的名义下，代理性的有闲是通过主妇和仆人来表现的，可能会频繁地发展成为艰苦劳作，尤其是在荣誉的竞争较为紧张激烈的时候。在现代生活中尤其如此。在这样的情形下，由仆役阶级来从事的家务劳役，可以适当地归类为劳力的浪费，而并非是代理性的有闲。但是后一个字眼有这样的优势，就是能够表明这类家务的缘由，同时清楚说明其实用性的经济依据。这些工作的主要用途就是用来证明主人或整个家庭的金钱荣誉，因为有一定量的时间和劳力明显地浪费在这类劳务上面。

以这种方式就构成了一种附属的或者是派生的有闲阶级，他们的工作就是为了初期或正统的有闲阶级的荣誉而执行一种代理有闲。代理的有闲阶级与有闲阶级的不同之处在于他们的生活方式有自己的特点。主人阶级的有闲，至少表面上是一种任意避免劳作的倾向，并且认定这样足以提高主人生活的质量和充实度，但是摆脱生产性劳作的仆役阶层的有闲在一定程度上是强制性的一种表现，一般或者根本不是为了自己的享受。仆役的有闲并不是自己的有闲。只要他是一名名副其实的仆人，并且同时不是一个有闲阶级的次级成员，他的有闲就只是为充实其主人的生活而伪装的一种专门职务。这种服从关系的迹象，在仆役的举止和生活方式中是显而易见的。在拖得很长的经济阶段中，也就是主妇基本上仍处于仆役的地位，家庭仍然是以男性为主导时，这位主妇的情况也往往是这样。为了满足有闲阶级有秩序的生活要求，仆役们不仅要表现出一种服从的态度，还要表现出在服从上的训练有素和丰富的实际经验。仆役和主妇不仅要执行此类职务，表现出顺从的性格，而且还有一点十分重要，关于服从的技巧他们应当表现得十分熟练，对于那些有实效而明显的奴性准则，能够训练有素地完全遵守。即使是今天，在形式上的服从关系中表现出来的天赋和技能，仍然是构成那些高薪仆役功用的主要因素，同样也是良好教养的主妇的点缀之一。

一个好奴仆的首要条件是他应该清楚地知道自己的位置。只知道如何做好需要完成的机械任务是不够的，首先，他必须知道怎样以适当的方式来完成这些任务。家务劳动也可以说是一种精神事务而非机械工作。于是渐渐地形成了在容态举止上要求合乎礼仪的精细制度，专门规定了仆役阶级表现代理有闲时的方式。若不遵守此种准则，他就会遭到唾弃，主要原因不在于他表现出了机械效率上的欠缺，或者甚至是表现出了缺少奴性的态度和性格，而是因为，归根结底，表现出了这种训练上的缺乏。在个人服务上的专门培训既费时间又费精力，这种训练的效果如果很大程度上在仆人身上明显存在，那就表明，这个仆人不论现在或过去都不惯于从事任何生产性的工作；而这一点很久以来就是代理有闲不言而喻的证明。熟练的服务是具有功用性的，不仅是为了满足主人对于良好和精湛技艺的爱好，使主人对那些依赖他而生存的仆人们拥有显著的支配权，而且能够证明与一个未受过训练的人所表现的明显有闲相比，它是消耗了更多的人力服务的。如果一个绅士的厨师或者马夫在侍奉其主人就餐或者是出行时表现得不是中规中矩，而是表明他过去的工作就是耕地或者放羊等，那就大事不妙了。这样蹩脚的工作会暗示主人没有能力获得专门的并且受过训练的仆役的服务，也就是说，会暗示主人没有能力支付时间、人力和指导所需消耗的代价，从而不能培养出一个训练有素的仆人在特定的程序下进行专门服务。如果仆人的表现说明他的主人缺乏资历，那就破坏了雇用仆人的主要目的，因为仆人的主要用途就是用来彰显主人的支付能力。

刚才所说的可以用来暗示，缺乏训练的仆人之所以令人不愉快，是因为由此直接说明了其主人的吝啬或者是贪图其实用。当然事实并非完全如此。它们之间并没有多少直接关系。这里所介绍的和一般所发生的差不多。不论什么事物，凡是一开始在我们面前表现很好的，不久就会引起我们对它的共鸣，使我们觉得其本身就是一个令人满意的事物，然后它在我们的思想习惯上生根，被认为本质上是对的。但是为了让任何特定的行为准则能够保持下去，必须持续地拥有组成其发展准则的习惯或者倾向的支持，或者至少与其不相抵触。代理性有闲的需要，或是对服务的明显消费的需要，是拥有这些仆人的主要动力。只要这种情况保持不变，任何不遵守其惯用习俗，将仆人受训的见习年限缩短的行为都是不可容忍的，此类事情无须过多讨论就可以解决。昂贵的代理有闲的需要，会发生间接的、选择性的作用，使我们形成对有关这一事情的是非观念，当遇到与我们的见解相左的现象时就会产生反感，并且把它清除掉。

随着大众所认可的财富标准的提高，占有和使用奴仆来炫富的手段逐渐提高。占有并蓄养一批奴隶，让他们从事生产劳动，能够证明其财富和权势，但是蓄养一批奴隶，却不让他们从事生产劳动，则能显示更高的财富地位。在这种原则下，就产生了一批仆人，数量越多就越好，他们唯一的工作就是懵懂地侍奉其主人，这样就可以证明他们的主人有能力消耗大量非生产性的劳务。在其仆人及其附属者之中产生了劳动分工，他们的主要生活内容就是维持有闲绅士的尊荣。因此，当一个群体为他生产货物时，另一个群体，通常是由其妻子或者是正妻来领导的，以明显有闲的方式为其主人进行消费，因此来证明他在不损害其富裕的条件下能够经受金钱上的巨大损耗。

关于家庭劳役的发展和性质的带些理想化的概述，与这里称作工业的“准和平”阶段的文化情况最为相似。在这个阶段中，个人劳役首次被提升到经济制度的地位上，并且正是在这个阶段，这个制度在社会生活体系中占据了最重要的地位。在文化的进程中，准和平阶段紧跟以掠夺为主的时代出现，两者是未开化时代的相衔接阶段。准和平时代的特色就是形式上遵守和平与秩序，同时在这个阶段的生活中仍然充满着很多压迫和阶级对抗，还不能完全称之为和平时代。从经济以外的观点来看，在诸多用途之下，可以将此阶段称为身份制阶段。这一名称可以用来总括在此阶段人类相处的方法，以及人们处于这一文化水平时的精神态度。但是如果要说明这个时期流行的生产方式的特征，要指出经济演进过程中此时的生产发展趋势，则用“准和平”一词似乎更为恰当。就属于西方文化的各国来说，经济发展的这一阶段大概已成为过去；社会中只有很小且情况特殊的部分例外，对他们而言，那种未开化文化下所特有的思想习惯的蜕变是相对细微的。

炫耀性消费：

女人、奢侈品和鉴赏力

上述在讨论代理有闲阶级的演变以及从劳动阶级整体分离的过程时，曾提到过进一步的劳动分工——在不同的奴仆阶级中的分工。其中一部分奴仆阶层，主要是那些以代理有闲为其职业的人们，开始承担一个新的、从属的职责范围——代理性地消费财物。最明显的消费形式是他们穿特制服饰，住宽敞的仆役处所。另外，不太具有强迫性和有效性的代理消费，则是一种更为广泛的形式，即由主妇和其余的家庭人员来消费食物、衣物、处所和家具。

在经济发展的某一个阶段，远在主妇出现之前，作为一种金钱力量的证明，对于财物的专门消费已经开始演变成为一种精细制度了。甚至在可以适当地称之为金钱力量的任何事物出现以前，消费上的分化就已经开始了。我们可以追溯到掠夺文化的最初阶段，有些人甚至认为这种分化出现在掠夺生活开始以前。财物消费的最初分化，与我们极为熟悉的后来发生的分化，其相似之处在于它在很大程度上具有礼仪的特性，不同之处是前者并不以积累财富上的差别为依据。消费的功用性，作为一种财富的证明，可被归类为一种衍生的发展。这是通过淘汰过程对于人类特性中的一个新目的的适应，而这种特性在人们的思想习惯中是原来已经存在、已经确立的。

在掠夺文化的早期阶段，唯一的经济分化就是由壮丁组成的受人尊敬的上层阶级和劳动妇女组成的低贱的下层阶级的差别。根据通行的典型化的生活方式，男人的工作就是消费女人所生产的东西，至于女人所享有的消费只是她们工作的附属品，这种消费是她们持续工作的一个手段，而并不是为了她们自己生活的舒适和充实。非生产性的消费财物是光荣的，首先是作为英勇的标志和人类尊严的前提条件；其次这种消费行为，尤其是对比较有价值的事物的消费，其本身在实质上就是光荣的。女人和孩子被禁止消费某些特定食物，以及某些装饰品。如果在男人中有一个奴仆阶层，那对他们也是实行禁忌的。随着文化得到进一步发展，这种禁忌可能演变成为一种严格程度不甚均匀的简单风气。但是无论维持这种差别的理论基础是什么，也不论这种差别的形成是一种禁忌还是一种流行风气，这个习惯性传统消费方式的特点却不会轻易更改。当达到生产的准和平时代之后，持有奴隶动产成为基本制度，这时在严格程度不甚均匀的情况下所遵守的一般原则是，卑贱的劳动阶级只应当消费生存所必需的那些东西。当然，一切奢侈品和生活上的享受品是属于有闲阶级的。在这种禁忌之下，某些食料，尤其是某些饮料，是严格规定只能由上层阶级享用的。

关于饮食上礼仪性的差别，在酒和麻醉品方面最为明显。如果这些消费品价值昂贵，就含有高贵和光荣的成分。因此下层阶级，主要是女人，就被禁止食用这些兴奋饮品，除了可以用较低代价获得这些饮品的地区之外。从远古时代一直贯穿于整个宗法制时代，准备并且管理这些奢侈品一直是女人的职责，消费这些奢侈品就是那些出身高贵和有教养的男性的特权。免费食用这些兴奋饮品而导致的宿醉和其他病态，反而带有了光荣的色彩，由此再进一步，若有人在饮食上能够这样放纵，那就是他优势地位的标志。在某些民族当中，由于过度放纵而引起的病态会被认为是男子汉的特征。于是就发生了这样的事情：由于放纵过度而引起的身体上的某些病状的名称，在日常谈话中就成了“高贵”或者“绅士”的同义词。只是在相对早期的文化阶段，这种由纵欲恶行而导致的病态才会被普遍地接受为优势地位的标志，并成为一种美德，获得社会的尊重；不过，由这类恶行而来的荣誉竟长期保持着较大的势力，因此富裕阶级或贵族阶级的男性即使生活过度放纵，受到的责难也会大大减轻。正是由于这种歧视性差别，若是妇女、青年和下级阶层的人发生了任何这类放纵的行为，他们受到的指责就会格外严厉。这种传统的歧视性差别，即使在现今比较进步的民族中，也仍然没有失去其力量。如果有闲阶级所树立的榜样对社会习俗的形成具有强制力量，这时就可以看到，关于刺激饮品的享用，妇女在很大程度上仍然要遵守传统的禁忌。

关于上层阶级的妇女被禁止使用刺激饮品这一禁忌，似乎是对违背常理的过分渲染。但是只要有人愿意用心去了解，就会很容易地发现这样的事实：对女人实行如此的禁欲在某种程度上是由于一种强迫性的习俗，并且一般而言，在族长制传统——女人是动产——这种观点最为强烈的地方，这个习俗拥有其最大的影响力。这个传统虽然在范围上大大限制，在严格程度上也趋于缓和，却仍没有丧失其意义。这个传统认为女人作为一种动产，只能消费生存的必需品——如果她的进一步消费是为了主人的享受或者荣誉则例外。奢侈品的消费，其实际意义就是为了消费者本身的享受，因此也是主人的一个标志。若由他人来进行此类消费，则必须在主人默许的情况下才可以。在人们的普遍思维习惯已经深受族长制影响的社会里，我们可以据此寻找对于奢侈品实行禁忌的残余，对于那些下层和依附的阶级而言，在习俗上还是不允许使用奢侈品的，尤其是某类特殊的奢侈品。若依附阶级使用它们则会明显地剥夺主人的享受和快乐，或者是以其他理由怀疑其合法性。按照西方文化的、保守的中层阶级的看法，食用诸多刺激饮品，至少应当以一种理由（如果不是两种）来反对。还有一个事实非常重要，因此不能够被忽视，那就是在日耳曼文化的中层阶级中，族长制的利益观念的残余仍然显著存在，女人必须在最大程度上遵守对于烟酒的禁忌。一般通则是，妇女只应当在为其主人的利益打算的情况下进行消费，这个见解一般被认为是正确而且具有约束力的，不过这一通则已经在诸多方面受到限制，随着族长制传统的日趋衰微，限制条件也越来越多。当然，也会出现一些反对意见：妇女在服装和家庭装饰上的花费是这个通则的一个显著例外。但是从结果上来看，这个例外与其说是实质的，不如说是表面的。

在经济发展的早期阶段，无节制地消费财物，尤其是消费较高级别的财物，就是说在最低生存限度以外的过度消费，在观念上只属于有闲阶级。在后来的和平时代到来之后，出现了财物的私有制，以及以工资劳力或小型家庭经济为基础的生产体系，这种限制才开始逐渐消失（至少是形式上的）。但是在早期的准和平阶段，通过有闲阶级制度影响到以后的经济生活的诸多传统习惯正在形成，并加以巩固，那个时候这个法则就具有习惯法的力量。人们把这一法则当作消费应遵循的一种标准，任何违反此法则的行为都被视为反常现象，并且迟早要在进一步发展过程中被淘汰。

由此可见，准和平时期的有闲绅士，不仅他所消费的生活必需品远在维持生活和保持健康所需要的最低限度以上，而且他所消费的财物的品质也是经过专门挑选的。他能自由消费，并且享用最好的食物、酒、麻醉品、住宅、劳务、服装、装饰品、武器和装配、娱乐品、护身符或神像等。他所消费的物品在逐渐改进的过程中，其主要动机和直接目的无疑在于改进的、更加精美的物品更有利于他个人的享受和康乐。但是那并不是他们消费这些产物的唯一目的。这里还存在着荣誉准则，这类改进凡是符合其标准的，就会受到欢迎，并延续下去。既然使用这些更加精美的物品是财富的证明，这种消费行为就是光荣的；相反地，不能按照适当的数量和品质来进行消费，则是屈服和卑贱的标志。

这种对食物和饮品等在质量上越来越认真的辨别和挑选，现在不仅影响到了有闲绅士的生活方式，而且影响到了他们的锻炼和智力活动。他不再是简单的、有成就的、行事激进的男子，不只是一个有力量、有手腕、勇往直前的人了。为了不被人看成一个粗人，他必须培养其品位，用正确的方式来辨别哪些消费品是名贵的，哪些是丑陋的，而且这已成为他的一项义务。对于有闲生活中的诸多事物——具有不同程度的优点的名贵食品、男用饮料和随身佩戴的饰物、合适的服装和建筑、武器、竞技、舞蹈、兴奋剂等——他都应当成为一个出色的鉴赏家。审美能力的培养，既需要时间又需要精力，绅士们在这方面的要求，使他的有闲生活有所转变，他要或多或少地进行刻苦钻研，学会怎样用适当的方式过好表面上的有闲生活。绅士们必须能够自由地消费恰当的财物，与此要求最为接近的一点就是，他必须知道如何以适当的方式消费这些财物。他的有闲生活必须以正确的形式来进行。这就说到了前章所提到的礼仪。高贵的风度和高雅的生活方式，是应当遵守的明显有闲与明显消费的规范中的两个条目。

明显地消费有价值的财物是有闲绅士博取荣誉的一种手段。随着财富在其手中聚集，如果只靠他自己来消费，是不足以证明其财富的。于是就求助于朋友和同类竞争者，其方式就是馈赠珍贵的礼物，举行豪华的宴会和各种招待。礼物和宴会不仅仅是简单的炫耀，还另有原因，他们很早就知晓了这一目的的功用性，并将这种性质保持到今天，因此它们在这方面的功用很久以来就一直是这些习惯的实质依据。奢华的娱乐活动，比如赠礼宴或舞会，格外适合于这一目的。通过这种方式，愿意与款待者作一番较量的竞争者，就被用来作为达到此目的的手段。他代理他的东道主进行消费，同时对于他的东道主无法独自消费那些过剩的高贵事物，他也是亲眼目睹，他还收到邀请来目睹他的东道主在礼仪上的精通程度。

之所以要举行奢华的宴会，当然还存在着其他性质上比较温和的动机。节日聚会的传统可能来源于欢乐和宗教的观念，在后来的发展中，这些动机也依然存在，但不会永远如此。后来有闲阶级的节日和宴会在某种较低程度上是为了宗教的需要，在较高程度上则是为了消遣和享乐，但是同时也有一些歧视性的目的；而且尽管在那些可公开的动机下存在着表面的非歧视性的理由，这类宴会仍然可以同样有效地适应歧视性目的。因此，不论在代理性消费方面，或是在礼仪上那种艰难地、以巨大代价得来的成就的展示方面，这些寻欢作乐的社交活动在其经济上的效果并没有减少。

随着财富的聚集，有闲阶级在功能和结构上有了进一步的发展，并且发生了阶级内部的分化。同时，出现了一个相当精细的等级和级别的体系。通过财富的继承和由此而来的高贵门第的继承，这种分化得到进一步的发展。随着高贵门第的继承演变为强制性有闲的继承，有些高门望族有足够的能力把有闲生活传给后代，但遗留下来的财富也许不足以使后代维持有尊严的有闲生活。遗传给后代的也许只是名望，却没有足够的遗产使后代可以在安逸的情况下自由消费。于是就出现了贫寒的绅士阶级，这一点在上面已经略微提及。这类混血儿似的有闲绅士，只能归到等级制度下的一个分级。就门第或财富而言，那些位于较高级或最高级的那些富裕的有闲阶级，其地位在门第或财力较差者之上。而那些较低等级，尤其是贫寒的或最低级的有闲绅士，往往通过一种投靠或效忠的方式，依附在大绅士的门下。通过这样做，他们会获得其荣誉的增长，或者是从保护者那里获得维持有闲生活的方式。于是这些人成了高级有闲者的侍者或者是家臣、仆人等；通过其保护者的豢养与协助，他们就变成了保护者那一等级的寄生者，也是他们过剩财富的代理性消费者。这些依附性的有闲绅士中的很多人，同时也拥有一些独立财产，所以他们中的有些人根本不能算是完全的代理性消费者，或者只是部分的归为代理性消费者。然而就是组成其保护者那些家臣和随从的人，他们当中大多数却可以无条件的归为代理性消费者。还有一点，这些人当中的大多数以及其他一些较低级的贵族，他们自己也往往有一批数量不等的代理消费者，如他们的妻子、儿女、仆役、家臣等。

在代理性有闲和代理性消费的整个体系规则中，这些职务必须以一定的方式或在特定的条件下完成，并且要向主人清楚地指出这种有闲或消费是属于他们的，且有助于提高他们的荣誉。这些人为主人或保护者实施的消费和有闲，其意义是非常明显的，由于这类活动是在众人注视的情况下进行的，因此会立刻为东道主或者保护者博得名声。如果那些消费和有闲是由其家臣或者侍从来代理执行的，则主人的荣誉就会增加，这是因为他们就处于主人身旁，家臣或者侍从的有闲和消费从何而来，是显而易见的。后来在这种方式下博取荣誉的群体逐渐壮大，这就需要用更加明显的方式来表明，通过有闲的执行而增加的荣誉归于何人，制服、徽章、工服等逐渐流行起来。制服或工服的穿戴暗示了很高的依附意义，甚至可以说是实际的或表面的奴役标志。制服或工服的穿戴者可以粗略地分为两个阶级——自由的人和奴仆，或者是高贵的人和低贱的人。而他们所执行的服务也可以类似地分为高贵的和低贱的。当然这种差别并非在实际工作中被严格地遵守，卑贱工作中的较高等的工作和高贵职能中比较低贱的工作有时是由同一个人执行的。但是一般的区别却并不能因此而被忽略。有些让人疑惑的事实就是，区分高贵与低贱的基本依据是所执行的工作的性质，但这个依据总是会被光荣与耻辱的一种次要差别所掩盖，这种次要差别所依据的是被服务的对象的等级。所以，属于有闲阶级本分的工作就是高贵的，例如行政、作战、狩猎、武器及其装备的管理等，总而言之，一切表面上具有掠夺性的工作都属于这一类。另一方面，若是有些工作是由生产阶级来做的话，那就是低贱的，比如手工工作或其他生产性劳动、仆役服务等诸如此类的工作。但是为一个地位非常高的人提供低贱服务，那这低贱服务就可以变成一项光荣的工作。例如皇室的宫女、侍奉皇后的女官、为国王管马、养犬的小吏等职务，都属于这一类光荣的工作。上面最后提到的两种职务，提出了一个带有一般性意义的原则，这就是，这类低贱工作中凡是与作战、狩猎等首要的有闲工作有直接联系的，很容易带上一种光荣性。在这种情况下，就很可能使原来在性质上属于低贱一类的，也变成一种极其光荣的工作。

在和平生产的后期发展过程中，雇用一批无所事事的武装随从的风气日渐衰微。代理有闲原来是由一批佩戴着保护者或主人的徽章的附属阶级来表现的，后来逐渐缩减为一群穿制服的仆役。因此在较高的程度上，这种制服成为一种奴役的标志，或者更进一步说是一种屈服态度的标志。武装随从的制服以前总是带有一种光荣性，但是现在这种光荣性随着这种制服变成专有的奴役标志而消失了。几乎所有那些必须穿制服的人都对其感到厌恶。我们离开实际的奴隶制度的时期还不远，对奴役的痛苦仍十分敏感。有些企业机构规定将制服或工服作为其特色服装，这样的情况也会引起人们的反感。在这个国家里，这样的反感已然达到这种地步，以致人们对那些必须穿着制服的军事或民政方面的政府职务，也产生了一种反感，虽然这种感觉是比较轻微、比较模糊的。

随着奴役的消失，为那些绅士们执行代理性消费的人数整体上也在减少。至于作为其依附者，为他执行代理有闲任务的人，情形当然也是如此，或许更加显著。这两类人的情况，虽非始终相同，但在大体上还是一致的。最初受托执行这类代理有闲任务的附属者是其妻子或正妻，而且正如所料，在体系的后期发展过程中，按照惯例执行这些任务的人员数量也在逐渐缩小，最后只留下其妻子。在社会的上层阶级，代理有闲和代理消费两类服务仍是大量需要的，因此，主妇在工作过程中仍然需要数量不等的奴仆的协助。但是当我们对社会的等级自上而下地观察时，就会看到这样的一级，在那里所有代理有闲和代理消费的任务，都由主妇一个人完成。就属于西方文化的各国来说，这样的情况现在可以在下层中产阶级中看到。

这里就出现了一种奇妙的反常现象。众人都观察到的一个事实就是，在下层中产阶级中，处于领导地位的已经没有伪装有闲的余地。由于环境的逼迫，此种伪装的有闲已经被废置不用。但是中产阶级主妇，为了家庭和家主的荣誉，仍然要从事代理有闲的工作。在任何现代工业社会自上而下的社会等级中，主要事实就是——家主的明显有闲——其消失点相对较高。也就是说，这一现象不一定只有在最低的社会等级中才存在。中产阶级的家主，迫于经济条件的压力不得不退而求其次，从而依靠自己的双手谋得生计，他所从事的工作往往在很大程度上带有生产性的特点，今天的一个普通商人所处的地位就是如此。但派生事实——由主妇执行的代理有闲和代理消费，以及由仆役们表现的从属性的代理有闲——按照惯例仍然是一种时尚，出于对荣誉的追求，这种习俗才不会遭受被忽视的待遇。如果看到一个男子刻苦耐劳，尽力工作，为的是使他的妻子可以在适当的方式下，为他执行当时所处时代要求的那种程度上的代理有闲，这并不是什么非常稀奇的事情。

在这种情况下，由妻子执行的代理有闲，当然不是无所事事、安坐而食的那种简单表现。这时可以看到的几乎始终不变的情况是，这位主妇总是在各式各样的借口之下忙忙碌碌，她不断地忙着，在某种方式下工作，或者是家庭劳务，或者是社交活动，但试着分析其忙碌的内容，就可以看出，这些活动除了表明她没有从事并且也无须从事任何获利的或实用的工作以外，很少或根本没有其他目的。在前面的章节里已经提到过，中产阶级的主妇将其时间和精力都消耗在所谓的家庭例行事务上，而这类家庭事务大部分是属于这种性质的。这并不是说这位主妇在将其注意力集中到家庭事务上时，在美观与整洁方面产生的效果，不能迎合中产阶级在礼仪方面训练有素的男子们的口味，而是说，通过美观与整洁的家庭布置的效果所要迎合的爱好，是在礼仪准则的淘汰性指导下形成的，而这一准则所要求的正是这类浪费精力的证明。我们对一些效果之所以感到满意，主要是由于我们已经学会了如何发现它们令人满意。在家务工作中，关于形式与色彩如何恰当地结合，以及应当如何真正体现审美这一真谛，往往使我们煞费苦心，而且毋庸置疑的是，一些具有某种真正美学价值的效果在家务工作中确实能够达到。这里要着重说明的一点是，关于这类生活享受，主妇的努力是在传统习惯的指导之下进行的，而形成这个传统的却是明显地浪费时间与物力这一定律。如果在布置上达到了美观或舒适的目的——如果确实是这样的话——这也不过是在偶然的情况下实现的，那么这些成就也必然是靠浪费精力，即与那个伟大的经济定律相符合的一些手段和方法来取得的。中产阶级的家庭布置中，那些比较绚丽、比较“体面的”部分，一方面属于炫耀性消费下的一些品类，另一方面则是用来证明主妇执行代理有闲的一些装置。

由主妇执行代理消费的要求，甚至在金钱尺度上已经低于可以容许代理有闲的要求存在的那一点时，依然继续发挥其效力。这时关于礼仪上的诸如整洁之类浪费精力的任何虚设行动，即使有也已经很少能看到，对表面上的有闲，可以肯定的是已不存在有意识的尝试，然而礼俗仍然要求主妇为了家庭和家主的荣誉，要明显地消费一些财物。因此，作为一个由古老制度演变到现在的结果，妻子在开头时，不论在事实上或理论上，既是丈夫的苦工，又是丈夫的动产，是为他生产财物并且供他消费的；现在则变成了丈夫为其生产财物，然后供其进行礼仪性的消费。但在理论上她仍然明明白白地是她丈夫的动产；因为习惯性地执行代理有闲和代理消费，是无自由的仆役的一个持久标志。

既然属于这类金钱等级的中下层家庭不属于有闲阶级之内，那么他们所执行的代理性有闲就不能够算作有闲阶级生活方式的直接表现。我们不如说，有闲阶级的生活方式在这里得到了次一级的表现。就荣誉这一点而言，有闲阶级处在社会结构的顶端，并且其生活方式和财富标准能够为社会提供荣誉的标准。遵守这些标准，或者说在某种程度上接近这些标准，就成了整个下层阶级的义务。在现代文明社会，社会阶级的划分界限已经越来越模糊，充满不确定因素，在这样的情况下，上层阶级所强加的荣誉准则几乎无阻碍地扩大了它强制性的影响作用，通过社会结构一直贯穿到最下层。其产生的结果就是每个阶层的成员将比他们稍高一级的流行生活方式视为礼仪的典范，并不遗余力地达到这个理想的标准。他们一旦在这方面未能获得成功，其声名与自尊心就会受到伤害，因此他们必须力求符合这个公认的理想标准，至少在表面上要做到这一点。

在任何高度组织起来的工业社会，荣誉所依据的标准最终总是金钱的力量，而表现金钱力量从而获得或保持荣誉的手段是有闲和对财物的明显消费。以此而论，在等级上一直向下推，在任何等级中，只要有可能，这两种手段总是流行的；在实施这两种手段的较低阶层，两种任务大部分是托付给家庭中的妻子和儿女来执行的。家庭中居于家长地位的男子，在这方面也有所表现，事实上他一般也是这样做的。但是如果再推到更下一层，当其家庭处于贫困的水平，或者接近赤贫的水平时，男子，也许还有他的子女，事实上已经不再能为保持体面而消费贵重的物品，于是女子实际上就成了这个家庭在金钱礼仪上的唯一代表。社会上没有一个阶级——甚至极度贫困的也不例外——会放弃惯常的炫耀性消费的念想。除非处在直接需要的压迫之下，否则人是不会放弃消费这一范畴的最后一点一滴的。人们宁可忍受很大的痛苦与不安，也不肯放弃金钱礼仪上最后的一点小零碎或门面装点。世上没有哪个阶级，也没有哪个国家，会在物质缺乏的压力之下那样卑怯地屈服，甘心让自己放弃这种更高一层的或精神上所需的完全满足。

爱好准则：植物与宠物

在日常生活中，有诸多奇妙的例子能够说明，在一些日用品方面，金钱荣誉准则在各阶级之间是不同的，习惯的审美观念，跟没有受过金钱荣誉准则熏陶的那种观念也是不同的。举例来说，对于草地，或者是浅草平铺的庭院或公园，西方各民族是发自内心喜欢的。在以长颅金发型种族占显著优势的社会里，上述一类草地、庭院或公园就格外受到这些社会里富有阶级的喜欢。这类草地简单地作为一种感受的对象，毫无疑问具有感官美感的因素，并且毋庸置疑地让几乎所有种族和阶级都直接感受到它的美感。但是，长颅金发型的种族比其他种族更能直接地感受这一点。与其他种族相比，长颅金发型的种族对于这一带青芜所具有的较高欣赏力，连同这个种族性情中某些其他特点，足以表明这个种族过去长期是一个畜牧民族，并且居住在湿润地带。如果一种民族的遗传性格是看到一处保护得很好的草原或牧场就会喜笑颜开，那么它也会认为一个修剪得平平整整的草地格外地具有美感。

为了美学的目的，草地应该是一个牧牛场；并且在今天的某些实例中，尽管要求在环境的安排上要不惜费用，不容掺杂任何寒酸之气，但在草地或私人场地上看到一头牛，还是长颅金发种人所憧憬的田野风光。在这样的场合下，所使用的通常都是高贵品种。不过以牛作为景色中的点缀，总不能免于庸俗和小家子气，这是这一生物在装饰用途上始终存在的缺陷。因此在任何的情况下，除非由于其周围富丽的景色能够抵消这种庸俗之气，否则使用牛来体现其品位这种做法一定要避免。有时候人们为了充实牧场的装饰，必须要使用一些食草的动物，假使这个想法过于强烈而难以抑制，他们就往往用一些并非十分恰当的替代动物，比如鹿、羚羊或其他同样格格不入的兽类来代替牛。这些替代动物，在那些西方人士的畜牧眼光中，比不上牛有美感，之所以受欢迎，是因为这些替代动物的代价较高，并且无实用性，因此能带来荣誉。不论从事实还是理论上来说，它们都是不能做粗俗的工作，都是不能获利的。

当然一些公园和草地属于同一范畴，充其量只是牧场的仿制品。这样的公园最好是通过放牧来进行保养，草地上的牛本身就会给公园带来更多美感，对见到过保养得很好的牧场的人而言，这一点是不用细说的。但是值得注意的是，作为普通爱好中金钱因素的一种表现，对公共场地用这种方式布置还是很少见的。在训练有素的管理者的监督下，熟练的工人所能做到的最佳程度就是使其尽量地像一个牧场，但是在效果上看，总是会缺少一些牧养的艺术效果。就一般意义而言，如果让一群牛公然在公共娱乐场地出现，就会很明显地表现出简朴与生产的气象，那简直是恶劣得难以忍受的。使用这种布置方式，代价相对低廉，因此就违反了礼仪上的要求。

关于公共场所的布置，还有一个特征也具有上述意义。这个特征就是，一方面要刻意表现奢华，另一方面又要假装简单朴素，还略带些实用意味。假如那些私人场地的管理者或拥有者的爱好是在中层阶级的生活方式或上一代上层阶级的传统下形成的，就会具有这样的表现。有些场地符合现代有教养的上层阶级的爱好，而这样的场地没有明显地表现出这些特征。有教养的爱好，在过去和现在这一代有所差别，是因为经济状况的变化。在娱乐场所的公认标准上，以及在其他方面，类似的差别也是显而易见的。在这个国家里，同其他多数国家一样，直到最近半个世纪，只有极少数的人拥有这样的财富而不顾节俭。在那个时候，由于交通和联络方式欠发达，这极少数的人分散在各地，并且彼此之间缺少有效的联系。因此，不必顾及代价是否高昂的那种态度，还没有获得发展的基础。有教养的人们对于世俗的讲求节俭的厌恶也未经制止。这个时候，按照单纯的审美观念，对代价低的或朴素的环境偶尔表示赞美，这样的态度是缺乏“社会认可”的，而社会认可要为数众多并且意趣相同的人才能实现。因此，若场地管理方面可能存在节省的现象，这时的上流社会还没有确切地认为可以忽略这种现象。结果是，关于娱乐场所在外貌上的理想标准，有闲阶级与下层中产阶级之间在见解上并没有什么显著分歧。两个阶级都唯恐出现金钱上的坏名声，它们同样是在这一点上建立其理想标准的。

今天这两个阶级在理想标准上的分歧已日趋明显。有闲阶级中的一部分人，脱离生产工作，在金钱上无所顾虑，这样的情况已经持续了一代或一代以上，因此在爱好问题上，这个阶级现在已经壮大到足够形成一种舆论，并且对其进行维持。同时其成员的流动性的提高，使在其阶级内实现“社会认可”比以前方便了。就这个精挑细选的阶级内部来说，无须再顾及节约已成为司空见惯的一件事情，其作为金钱礼仪的基础的效用已经大部分丧失。因此现在的上层阶级的爱好标准并不是一贯坚持不停地炫耀富贵或严格避免节省朴素的外观。结果在社会地位和智力水平较高的这类人士中，在其公园和场地的布置方面，就出现了爱好乡野和天然风味的倾向。这种爱好在很大程度上是一种本能的流露，由此而形成的结果就是坚实程度的高低不一。这种爱好，很少出现全天然的情况，有时候会转化成某种虚假的朴素形态，跟上面所说的情况并没有太大的区别。

实用性设计的一个弱点就是，它会让人想到直接的、非浪费型的用途，而这种设计也符合中产阶层的爱好。但是当然，所有这类设计，必须完全处于荣誉性的不求实利这一原则的指导之下，这一点是牢不可破的。于是就此开始，诸多手段和方法被用来伪装一些有实用事物的适用性；例如朴素的短篱、桥梁、凉亭、帐篷以及类似的点缀品，都是在这样的手段和方法的指导下设计的。在事物的实用性上矫揉造作的一些具体例子，例如，有些简朴的栅栏和格子墙用铸铁作材料，在平坦的地面上铺上一条迂回曲折的车道，这跟着重实用美感的最初用意看起来是背道而驰的。

至于精挑细选的有闲阶级，他们的爱好这时已经有了进一步的发展，不再局限于这类金钱美感下伪适用性的变形，至少在某些方面是这样。但是后来的有闲阶级和中下层阶级的爱好，所要求的仍然是以金钱的美来补充艺术的美，甚至对由于天然具有美感而受到赞赏的那类事物，也有这样的要求。

大家对花草的加工修剪以及公共场所中传统的花坛布置都极为欣赏，上述的普遍品位，从这些方面的表现就可以看出。最近的哥伦布博览会故址改建工程，充分显示了中产阶级的一种爱好倾向，那就是重视金钱的美超过艺术的美，就这一点来说，这件事也许是一个极其恰当的例证。这个例证用来证明荣誉性浪费的要求依然存在并且盛行，即使在一切表面的奢华都已尽力避免的情况下仍是如此。假使主持这一改建工作的人不受金钱爱好准则的支配，则这一改建工作实际达成的艺术效果，也许同我们所看到的将大相径庭。改建工作在施工时，即使城市居民中的上层阶级也从旁赞许不已，由此说明，就这一事例而言，这个城市的上中下各阶级之间，在爱好上即使有些差别也是很细微的。在这个金钱文化发展上具有代表性的城市居民的审美观念中，炫耀性浪费这个伟大的文化原则被小心翼翼地传承下来，唯恐稍有背离。

对于自然的爱好，也许其本身就是从上层阶级的爱好准则假借而来的，这种爱好，在金钱的美感准则的指导下，有时候会有出乎意料的表现，这在一个粗枝大叶的旁观者看来也许会觉得有些不可思议。例如，在缺少树木的地区广泛植树，这原是公认为很好的一个措施，但在树木繁盛的地区，这一措施已经演变成荣誉消费中的一个项目。所以，在树木茂盛地区，一个村庄或一个农户，会把当地原有的树木通通砍掉，然后在道路旁或院子里重新种上某些外来品种的树苗，这样的事情是很常见的。在这种情况下，整片的橡树、榆树、山毛榉、白胡桃、铁杉、椴树和桦树等树木被清除掉，为的是让出土地来换上软枫、杨树、脆柳等树苗。人们认为，凡是适应装饰与荣誉目的的事物都应当具有一种高贵气象，而让一片原来就有的、不费什么代价的树木呆在那里，会让这种高贵气象有所贬值。

金钱荣誉对爱好的普遍存在具有引导作用，这在时下流行的关于动物的美的标准中也同样可以看到。牛在一般审美等级中所处的位置，以及这个爱好准则在这里所起的作用，上面已经谈过。还有别的一些家养动物，只要在生产目的上对社会是显然有用的，例如，鸡、猪、绵羊、山羊、马等各种牲畜和家禽，大抵也是如此。这些动物具有生产品的特性，各有它们的用途，并且大都是能赚钱的，因此一般不能说它们具有什么美感。至于那些驯化动物，如猫、狗、骏马、鸽、鹦鹉及其他笼鸟等，通常不适用于生产目的，情况就不同了。这些动物通常是属于炫耀性消费项目下的，因此它们在本质上具有荣誉性，可以恰当地被认为是美的。上等阶级对这类动物一向是宠爱的；那些在金钱能力上较差的阶级，对于这里所说的两类动物，却觉得在美感上并没有什么差别，觉得在它们的美与丑之间无须划出一条坚实和牢固的金钱界线；对处于最上层有闲阶级中的少数人来说，由于那个弃绝俭约的严格准则已经渐渐失去效力，因此他们在这一点上的态度跟上述后一类阶级倒有些相类。

谈到那些具有荣誉性而且很漂亮的家养动物，还有一些附属的优点也应当提到。鸟在家养动物中是属于荣誉性一类的，它之所以能够在这类中占一席之地，完全是由于它非获利的性质，除了鸟儿之外，家养动物中格外值得注意的是猫、狗和供驰骋用的骏马。猫的荣誉性比上述两种动物要差些，因为它的浪费性差一些，甚至还有些实际用途。同时，猫的性情并不适合荣誉性的用途。它和人要在平等条件下相处，对于身份关系，它全然无所关涉，而这身份关系一向被看作价值、荣誉和声望上一切差别的基础，对于它的主人与其周围人之间的歧视性对比，它也不能积极地有所贡献。不过就上述最后一点而言，像安哥拉猫那种稀奇罕见的产物，可算是个例外，由于代价高昂，是稍微有些荣誉性价值的，因此就在金钱的基础上博得了可以称为美的权利。

狗这种动物在性格上有特别的天赋，在性情和无用这两方面都具有优点。在这个意义上，它被看作是人类的朋友，并且它的才能和忠诚也受到人们的赞扬。也就是说，狗是人类的仆人，其天生所具有的服从性是不用怀疑的，而且在体会主人的心情上像原来的奴隶一样思维敏捷。狗所具有的这些特点，使它与人类的身份关系极为配合，就这里所讨论的意义来说，可以被当作是有用的，此外还有一些别的特点，则在审美价值上较为模糊，没有上面那样明确。在所有家养动物中，狗对主人是最忠诚的，但其习性也是最肮脏龌龊的。为了弥补这一缺点，它对主人竭尽忠顺和谄媚之态度，并且随时准备伤害其他所有人或进行捣乱。这样它就使我们的支配欲有了发挥余地，从而赢得我们的欢心。它也是消费中的一个项目，一般不具有生产目的，这一点使得它的主人把它看成一种能增进荣誉的东西，并使它自己在主人的身边占到一个巩固地位。同时，在我们的意念中，狗总是和打猎活动联系在一起的，而打猎却是件侵占性工作，是光荣的掠夺性冲动的表现。

狗既已居于这样的有利地位，于是不管在它的形态和动作上具有什么美感，也不管它具有什么值得称许的智力特征，人们总是习惯地给予肯定，并且加以夸大。甚至被狗迷们培育出来的那些奇形怪状的变异品种，也有许多人会发自内心的赞赏，认为它们实在是美的。这些变种的狗——其他变异品种的情形也是这样——的等级（按照它们的审美价值来设定的），大体上是按其符合某种畸形要求的怪异程度和变幻程度来定的。就这里的研究目的而言，这种以外形结构的怪异和变幻为依据的有差别的效用，其根源实在是出于这类品种较为稀少，因此其代价也较为高昂。一些有点畸形的狗，像现在供男士和女士所享用的一些流行品种的宠物狗，其商业价值是以高昂的生产成本为依据的，对主人而言，其价值则主要在于它们可以被用作炫耀性消费中的一个项目。高贵的荣誉可以间接地通过这些奇形怪状的狗反映出来，并为其赋予一定的社会价值；于是在说法和概念上略作转换，它们就变成了宠物，具有令人艳羡且有荣誉的美感。由于对这类动物不管怎样加以殷勤爱护，也不会具有获利或实用的意义，因此豢养它们就具有了荣誉性。对这类动物的关注不会受到轻视，于是它逐渐发展成为一种顽强的日常嗜好，而且这种嗜好还富有仁慈的意味。由此可见，在对宠物的喜爱中，浪费准则作为一个规范是相当久远地存在的，就是这个规范，指导和形成了对事物的情感和选择。下面我们还会看到，关于人对人的钟爱，情况也有些相似，虽然在这一情况下，上述规范发挥作用的方式略有所不同。

骏马的情况与狗的情况非常类似。在生产的目的上，骏马代价昂贵，极为浪费，并且无实用价值。如果说它可能具有什么生产上的用途，从而增加社会的福利，或者是使人类的生活更加舒适，那么它的贡献就在于力量的展示和行动的敏捷，从而使大众的审美观得到满足。这当然是一种本质上的实用性。马并不具有与狗同等程度的屈从主人的精神特质，但是它能够有效地满足主人的激情，从而转变周围环境的“有生”力量，供它自己使用和支配，并通过这些力量表现它自己的坚强个性。一匹骏马或多或少有可能成为一匹赛马，这正是其对主人的格外有用之处。骏马的实用之处主要在于作为一种竞赛工具的有效性，对于马的主人来说，如果他自己的马能够在竞赛中出人头地，他的进攻和胜利的欲望就获得了满足。马在这方面的用途并不是获利性的，总的说来是相当具有浪费性的，而且这种浪费又十分明显，这就使这样的用途有了荣誉性，并且赋予了骏马强烈的假定荣誉地位。除此之外还有一点，专供竞赛用的马，作为一种赌博工具，就其用途而言也同样不是生产性而是荣誉性的。

从审美的观点来看，骏马是交了好运的，因为在金钱荣誉准则之下，人们对它所可能具有的任何美感或适用性，可以任意加以赞赏，并认为这是合情合理的。它的种种长处是获得明显浪费原则支持的，是有支配与竞赛的掠夺倾向作为其后盾的。况且，马是一种俊美的动物。不过有些人是赛马的狂热者，还有些人的审美观念在马迷们作出判定的精神压迫之下，已经暂时处于麻木状态；不属于这两类、在爱好上没有受到这方面影响的那些人，对赛马却看不出有什么特别的美感。对于在爱好上没有受过上述影响的一个平常人来说，最俊美的似乎是，与饲养者选择淘汰过的赛马比起来体质变化较少的那种马。然而，一位作家或演说家——特别是那些言谈口才极其平庸的——为了辞令上的需要，对动物的美德和适用性有所渲染时，往往喜欢以马为例，而且还往往特意说明，就所举的例证而言，他所指的是赛马。

应当注意的是，谈到对各种各样的马和狗在不同程度上的爱好时，即使是一个在这类爱好上没有什么特别研究的寻常人，也可以从他的爱好中看出有闲阶级的荣誉准则在另一条比较直接的路线下产生的影响。例如在这个国家，有闲阶级的爱好在一定程度上是以英国有闲阶级中流行的、或认为在那里流行的一些风俗习惯为标准的。这一情况在对马的方面比对狗的方面更为显著。就马来说，尤其是供乘用的马——其目的充其量只是在于浪费性的夸耀——一般总以为马具有的英国气味越浓厚就越美。就荣誉的适用性这一点来说，英国的有闲阶级，即这个国家的上层有闲阶级，是它以下各阶级的榜样。这种在审美认识的方式以及爱好见解的形成等方面的模仿，不一定是出于一种假装的偏爱，至少不是出于一种伪善或勉强的偏爱。在这个基础上形成的偏爱是一种严肃、认真的判定，其情形同在别的基础上形成的一样，所不同的在于这种爱好是在荣誉上较为正确，在美感上却不是真实的爱好。

应当指出的是，模仿还不只是在对马的本身美感这一点上，比这还要更进一步。所要模仿的还有装饰用的马具和骑乘的技术，怎样才算是正确、漂亮的骑乘姿势以及步法，也是由英国的习尚来决定的。要知道，在金钱的美感准则的指导下，做出什么是合适的、什么是不合适的决定时的情形有时是极其偶然的。为了说明这一点，这里应该指出，这种英国式的、拙劣的骑乘姿势，以及必然会形成这种姿势的特别窘促的步法，是旧时代的遗风，那个时候英国的道路还很糟，到处是水潭和泥淖，马在比较从容的步法下是无法穿越的。马行走的时候本可以采取比较舒适的步法，在坚实开阔的地面上自由驰骋；但是由于在上个世纪的大部分时间内，还无法让一匹马用其优雅步伐通过英国的道路，今天在骑术上坚持高雅作风的人骑一匹短尾的矮脚马，就不得不在极其不自如的姿势下，坚持着那种窘促的步法。

进入到有闲阶级

有闲阶级的组成部分是处于不断地淘汰过程中的，因此那些与活跃的金钱竞争格外适应的个人或家族，可以从下层阶级中脱颖而出。为了要爬上较高的级别，一个有志向的人不仅在金钱的气质上须达到相当完整的程度，而且在这类禀赋方面还须相当突出，可以克服前进道路上的诸多困难。撇开偶然的意外情况不谈，这些暴发户新贵总是从千万人之中挑选出来的。

自从金钱竞赛这种风尚开始以来——或者以同样的话说，自从有闲阶级这个制度成立以来——这种进入富人队伍的淘汰过程当然是一直在进行的。但是明确的淘汰根据并非一成不变，而且这种淘汰过程呈现的结果也并不是千篇一律的。在早期未开化时代，或者说是纯掠夺时代，适应淘汰过程的标准就是勇猛的品质（从这个词的简单意义上理解）。为了进入到这个阶级，这些候选人必须天生具有粗犷凶暴、蛮横无道、意志坚定、党同伐异等品质。要想累积并继续享有财富，这类禀赋是不可少的。有闲阶级的经济基础，在那个时期或者稍晚时期，都是财富的拥有。但是积累财富的方法，以及拥有这些财富所需要的天赋，在早期的纯掠夺时代就已在一定程度上改变了。由于淘汰的结果，处于早期未开化阶段的有闲阶级，其主要特征是勇敢地采取攻势、对周围事态变化的警觉和使用欺诈手段时的无所顾忌。那个时候的有闲阶级成员是靠勇猛气质的坚持来维护其地位的。在未开化文化时代的后期，在准和平的身份制下，整个社会对于财富的猎取和保有逐渐达到了稳定的方式。直率的进攻和肆无忌惮的凶暴，已经在很大程度上让位于精明、狡狯和诈伪的作风，而这种作风成为积累财富最为人认可的方式。于是作为一个有闲阶级的成员，就得有另一套才能和习性。这时蛮横的攻势态度以及相关的粗犷作风与顽强的身份观念，仍然是这个阶级最显著优异的特征。在我们的传统观念中，这些仍然可以作为典型的“贵族品质”。但是跟这类品质连接在一起的，是一些在性质上不那么咄咄逼人的金钱品质，而这些金钱品质越来越成熟，比如深谋远虑、谨慎小心和诈伪作风。随着时间的推移，接近金钱文化的现代和平阶段以后，为了适应金钱上的目的，上述后一类才能和习性的相关有效性越来越提高，这时要进入有闲阶级之门，要在这个阶级中保持地位，就必须具有在淘汰过程中越来越重要的这类品质。

淘汰的根据已经发生变化了，现在要取得进入有闲阶级的资格，所必需的品质只是金钱。现在依然存在的纯掠夺的未开化特征是意志的顽强或目标的始终一致性，这个特征就是纯掠夺时代一个胜利的未开化者与被他取而代之的和平的野蛮人双方之间的区别所在。但这一特征不能说是在金钱上成功的上层阶级人士与生产阶级的普通大众之间的特有区别。上述后一类人在现代工业生活中所受到的训练和淘汰过程，使这一特征同样有了决定性的意义。不妨说，顽强的意志是使这两个阶级跟无能的人和下层阶级中的懒汉这两个类型有所区别的标志。就才能天赋这个意义而言，金钱工作者与懒汉的异同情况同生产工作者与善良而无能的寄食者的异同情况非常类似。一个典型的金钱工作者正同一个典型的懒汉一样，毫不犹豫、肆无忌惮地把财物与人力拿来满足自己的私念，并且无视他人的感觉和愿望，对于他的这种行为可能会带来的深层影响也漠然无视，所不同的只是一个金钱工作者具有比较强烈的身份观念，在追求一个更为远大的目标时，会带有更加远大的目光，以更加坚定的意志来工作而已。这两个类型在气质上的相似之处进一步表现为爱好“比赛”和赌博，还有就是喜欢从事无目的的竞赛。一个典型的金钱工作者和懒汉在掠夺本性的连带变化方面也同样表现出了奇妙的相似性。懒汉一般而言会具有浓厚的迷信思想，他对命运、定数、预兆、预言以及占卜、符咒之类深信不疑。当处境顺利时，这种习性容易表现为一种奴性的信奉，他在表示这种信心时，往往偏重形式，注意形式上的一些细节；这类表现与其说是宗教思想，不如说是某种信念上的热情表现。就这一点而论，与懒汉的气质有较多共同之处的是金钱阶级和有闲阶级，而不是生产工作者或无能的寄食者阶级。

远古男性尚武精神的遗存：好战与竞赛

掠夺时期所特有的那种古老人类性格最直率、最明显的表现是纯正的好战倾向。当掠夺这种活动是以集体的方式进行时，这种倾向往往被称为尚武精神，或者像在近代所看到的那样，称之为爱国心。在文明的欧洲各国，世袭的有闲阶级比中产阶级在很大程度上更具有尚武精神；这一说法大概无须进行深度讨论便可获得人们的认可。实际上，有闲阶级也以此为豪，而它持有此种态度，必然是有理有据的。在一般人的心目中，战争是光荣的，勇于作战更是无上荣光；而对勇于作战的赞美这一点本身就是好战者掠夺气质的最好证明。对战争的狂热是掠夺气质的指标，此种风气在上层阶级颇为流行，尤其是世袭的有闲阶级更甚。还有一层，有闲阶级表面上的重要职务是政治工作，而就其起源和发展内容而言，这也是一种掠夺性工作。

具有习惯的好战心这个光荣传统，唯一可以勉强与世袭的有闲阶级相抗衡的是下层懒汉阶级。在平常时期，广大的生产阶层对战争的兴趣是相对淡薄的。在未受到战争惊扰时，普通的人民大众，也就是构成生产阶层的主力军，除了防御性战争以外，对任何其他战争实际上都是反感的。甚至当受到了挑衅，须采取防卫态度时，他们的反应也是有些迟钝的。在比较文明的社会，或者说得更确切些，在已经达到高度工业发展的社会，普通民众的作战进攻精神，可以说已逐渐退化。这并不是说，在生产阶级中就没有为数众多的人具备不可遏制的尚武精神，也不是说，广大民众即使受到某些特别的挑拨，也不会激起使用武力的热情，就像今天在欧洲不止一个国家以及在美国看到的那样。但是，除了出于一时的情绪激动，除了富有掠夺类型的古老气质的那些人以及在上层阶级与下层阶级中有相似禀赋的那些人以外，任何现代文明社会的一般群众在这方面的惰性表现，竟然是如此明显，以至于除了遇到实际侵犯时会反抗以外，主动发动战争似乎不太可能。现在一般普通人的习惯和才能天赋所倾向的是使人们的活动不要经历像战争那样的惊心动魄。

这种气质上的阶级差异，可能部分是由于某些阶级习得特质的遗传上的差异，但在一定程度上也似乎是由于种族起源时就有的差异。有些国家的人口在种族上相对比较单一，有些国家的情形不同，构成社会阶级的各种族成分之间的分歧较为明显；关于上述在气质上的阶级差异，前一类国家就不如后一类国家那样明显。关于这个方面还应注意到一点，在后一类国家的有闲阶级中那些后来者，一般地说，跟同时代的出于世家望族的那些上流社会代表人物比起来，在尚武精神的表现上要稍逊一筹。这些在不久以前才从普通民众中脱颖而出的暴发分子，之所以会在有闲阶级中脱颖而出，是由于某些特点与习性的发挥，而这类特点与习性并不能和古代意义下的尚武精神混为一谈。

除了与战争相类似的活动之外，决斗制度也同样是一种高度好战的表现；而且决斗是一种有闲阶级的制度。若是双方意见相左而进行决斗，实质上就是通过战斗作为解决争端的最终手段。在文明社会里，决斗的盛行只在世袭的有闲阶级中才会成为一种正常现象，并且类似举动差不多只在有闲阶级中才会发生。例外是：（1）陆军和海军军官，这类人通常是有闲阶级成员，并且受到过掠夺习性方面的训练；（2）下层阶级中的懒汉——这类人由于遗传或后天获得，或者两者兼有，具有同样的掠夺倾向和习惯。只有出身高贵的绅士和粗暴的莽汉，才会诉之于打架这种手段，并认为是解决意见冲突的正常手段。至于一个平常的人，只有当一时被过度激怒或酒后失常，以致应对挑拨性刺激的习惯反应受到抑制不能生效时，才会不假思索地诉诸武力。这时他退回到了自决本能的比较简单、差别较小的表现形态，也就是说，他在一时之间不假思索，回到了古老的习性。

决斗制度原来是解决最终争端和严重问题的一个方式，随后渐渐变成了一种义务性的、无缘故的私斗，成为保持个人声誉的一种社会责任。关于这一类的有闲阶级作风，我们可以举出在德国学生中流行的决斗作为一个典型例子，这是好战的骑士精神的一种奇特遗存。

下层阶级中的懒汉、也可以说是假性的有闲阶级，其中比较暴烈的分子，也有着在一切国家中情况都类似的、虽然在性质上比较非正式的社会义务——为了保持他的男子汉气概，他有义务同他的同辈们进行无缘无故的格斗。社会中不论属于哪一阶层的男孩子们，也流行着类似的风气。男孩子们在日复一日与其伙伴们的相处过程中，大都会清楚地了解到，彼此之间怎样以每个人的相对战斗力来品评等级的高低；在男孩子们的团体中，如果任何人有了例外情况，不愿意或不能接受邀请去参加战斗，通常就不能维持其荣誉的基础。

这里所指的决斗规则主要适用于处在某种模糊的成熟限度之上的男孩。至于儿童，当他在日常生活中还未能脱离母亲的怀抱，在各个方面还有赖于密切的关注时，就此时孩童般的气质而言，决斗规则并不适用。在这样的幼小时期，进攻和对抗的性格倾向几乎还没有显露。由这种平和的性格转变到男孩的进取攻势，在极端情况下甚至是带有恶意的顽皮，这是一个缓慢渐进的过程，完成这一过程的孩子，在某些情况下会比其他人达到更加完整的程度，包括范围较广的个人天赋。在儿童（无论是男孩还是女孩）成长的最初阶段，那种主动进取攻势的自决态度较为少见，那种要使他自身及利益跟他的家族相隔离的意向也比较不明显，他对于谴责、害羞和胆怯表现得比较敏感，比较需要友善的人类接触。在通常情况下，男孩的这种幼年特征会逐渐而又较为迅速地消失，这种早期气质从而转变为纯男孩的气质；当然也有例外情况——男孩生活中的掠夺特征有时候会全然不见，或者顶多只是在细微和隐约的情况下有所显现。

就女孩而言，这种向掠夺阶段的转变，很少会达到男孩那样的完整程度，而且在很多时候简直完全不经过这一阶段。在这种情况下，从幼年到青年和成熟阶段的转变，就只是从幼年时代的目的和倾向转变到成人生活的目的、职能和关系的一个渐进、无间断的过程。总之，就女孩来说，在其发展过程中，掠夺的间隔期的存在比较少见；即使发生了这种情况，在这一间隔期的掠夺和隔离的态度，一般也不像男孩那样显著。

对男孩而言，这种掠夺的间隔期的存在一般是相当明显的，而且会持续一个时期，但大都在达到成年时结束（假使真结束的话）。后一个说法也许需要较多的材料加以验证。有些人并没有发生从男孩气质到成人气质的转变，或者即使发生也只是部分的，这样的情况并不少见。所谓“成人”气质，这里指的是在现代工业生活中那些成年人所具有的通常气质，这些人在集体生活的目的上具有相同的适用性，因此可以说是工业社会中有效的、一般的组成部分。

欧洲民族的人种构成是多种多样的。在有些情况下，即使是下层阶级，在很大程度上也是由扰乱安宁的长颅白型种族构成的，而在另一些情况下，含有这一种族成分的，主要只是世袭的有闲阶级。在后一类民众的工人阶级的孩子们当中，与上层阶级或前一类民众中各阶级的孩子们比起来，好战习惯的风行程度就小一些。

以上关于工人阶级子弟气质方面的推论，如果经进一步充分与严密的论证以后可以断定是正确的话，那么关于好战气质是种族的一个相当显著的特征这个见解就更加有力了；看来在好战气质上禀赋较强的，是在欧洲各国构成其统治阶级或上层阶级的那种类型，即长颅白型，而不是在那些国家里的一般民众，即构成被统治阶级或下层阶级的那种类型。

人们也许会认为男孩的气质同社会中不同阶级的尚武精神强弱不同这个问题，似乎没有什么重要关系，但它至少可以证明这种好战冲动有极为悠久的历史根源，比生产阶级一般成人的习性的起源更早。在儿童生活中表现的这种气质，以及许多别的特征，是成人性格发展的某些状态的再现，是这类状态暂时的、小规模的再现。在此解释之下，应当把男孩对侵占的偏好以及把自己的利益同家族相隔离的意向，看作是对人类本性短暂的回归倾向，因为这类性格是在早期未开化文化下、也就是纯掠夺文化下的正常性格。在这个方面，同其他许多方面一样，有闲阶级和懒汉阶级的性格表明，在其成人生活中继续存在的那些特征是童年和青年时代的正常特征，也就是早期文化阶段正常或习以为常的特征。除非能完全在种族根源上找出那些自大狂妄的懒汉和拘泥细节的绅士与一般群众根本不同的依据，否则就应当将这两类人与普通大众区分开来的特征看作是精神发展处于停顿状态的一种标志。和在现代的工业社会中一般的成年人所达到的精神发展阶段相比，可以说这是一种未成熟状态的标志。我们随后会看到，上流社会和最下层社会的这类代表人物的这种幼稚的精神状态，不仅表现了残酷的侵占与隔离倾向，更可以在其他古老性格中找到特征。

对于年龄稍长的学生，他们正处于从正式的少年时代到成人时代的过渡时期，而他们此时的行动是无目的、游戏性的，又带着几分有体系的和精心策划的扰乱安宁，由此似乎毫无疑问地说明了好战气质的不成熟本质。一般来说，这种扰乱安宁的行为仅限于青年时期。随着年龄的增长，青年逐渐步入成年期间，这类行为在频率和剧烈程度上逐渐减退；所以他们以一种普通方式在个人的生活中重现了一个集体从纯掠夺时代到一个更为安定的生活习惯的演进次序。在诸多事例中，个人在还没有脱离这种幼稚状态的时候，他的精神发展基本上就已经停滞，好战气质就会终生存在。因此，在精神发展上终于达到成人状态的那些人，一般总要经过一个暂时、古老的性格阶段，而这类性格特征跟那些好战和好比赛的人的永恒的精神水平相一致。当然，不同的人，在这方面的成熟和健全程度也会有所不同。有些人所达到的在平均水平以下，就成为现代工业社会中人的天然属性上“未溶解的沉渣”，成为进一步提高工业效能和集体生活充实程度的淘汰适应过程中的落伍者。

这种精神发展上的停滞不前，不仅直接表现在成年人的年青气盛和鲁莽行为中，而且间接表现为帮助并怂恿年轻人捣乱，从而促进了凶暴习惯的形成，使之在后一代的生活中继续存在，这就阻碍了社会朝着和平气质方向进一步发展的步伐。

如果一个非常具有侵占习性倾向的人正好在社会中对青少年的习性发展处于领导地位，则他对尚武精神的保留和回归所产生的影响也许是极其深远的。比如，诸多教会人士和其他“社会支柱”对于那些“少年儿童团”和类似的拟军事组织的关怀，就含有上述意义。在高等教育机构中，近来竭力提倡发展“大学精神”和大学体育之类，也具有相近的意味。

所有这些纯掠夺气质的表现都可以归为侵占的一类。这些现象部分是竞争习性态度的简单和直率的表现，部分是为博取勇武声名而组织的活动。所有种类的比赛都具有同样的特点，包括职业拳击赛、斗牛、田径比赛、射击、钓鱼、快艇竞赛以及其他技术比赛等，甚至并不以消耗体力为显著特征的种种竞技也不例外。各种比赛活动，通过各种手法，由原来以互相竞赛为依据，逐渐转变为以机巧与诡诈为依据，但这种转变是无法在任一点上划出一条界线的。对比赛活动的喜爱，是基于一种古老的精神素质，是由于具有程度较高的掠夺竞赛习性。在一般特定叫作运动比赛或竞技的那类活动中特别明显的是，冒险侵占和损害对方的那种强烈倾向。

人们在许多活动中所流露的气质，实质上是孩童时代的气质，上面提到的种种掠夺竞赛都不免有这类气质，而运动比赛似乎更是这样，或者至少是更加明显。因此，对比赛活动的偏爱，是人们在精神特质的发展方面处于停滞状态的格外显著的标志。我们如果注意到在一切比赛活动中，总不免带有很大的伪装因素这一点，那些运动家的这种孩童气质，就会变得格外明显。儿童、尤其是男孩子们惯于从事的那些比赛和侵占活动是带有伪装性质的。并不是说伪装在一切比赛活动都占有同样的比例，而是说在一切这类活动中这一成分总是显著存在的。在纯正的体育活动和运动竞赛中，这一成分的存在比在户内的技术竞赛中更加显著，尽管这个通则也并不是具有普遍的适用性。在户外活动中，伪装的确是存在的。例如我们可以明显地看到，即使是性格极其温和、极其踏实的人，他们在出外游猎时，也往往会携带过多的武器和其他装备，为的是满足他们自己的一种情绪，即想象他们所承担的任务非常重要。他们在展开侵占活动时，总有些戏剧性的夸张姿态，高视阔步，神气十足，不论在明攻或暗击中，都不免带上些装腔作势的表演。在体育运动方面情况也是这样，几乎必然要带上几分嚣张和做作，加上几分神秘色彩，这些都足以表明这类活动的戏剧性特征。当然，这一切都足够使人想到那种孩子气的伪装现象，这真是再明显不过的。还有一点，体育运动中所习用的一些行话，其中很大一部分是杀气腾腾的，是从战争术语中借用过来的。要晓得，在任何活动中使用特种行话，除了用作秘密联系的必要工具以外，大都可以看成是一种迹象，说明这类活动实际上是带有伪装性质的。

比赛运动与决斗和类似的扰乱和平的活动有所不同，还有一个深度的特征，即除了侵占与凶猛这类冲动以外，还容许别的动机存在。虽然就任何一个事例来说，大都很少有其他动机，但是沉溺于这类活动的人往往会举出别的理由作为借口，这一点说明，别的动机有时候也可以以附带的方式存在。喜欢从事户外运动的人，打猎的人，或钓鱼的人，往往以爱好自然的习性或作为消遣的需要等，作为他们的这类嗜好的动机。这些动机，毫无疑问会频繁地存在，并且是喜欢户外运动的人群的生活中吸引人的地方。这些表面上的需要，不必借助于一种有组织的努力来夺取一些生物的生命，这些生物是自然的主要点缀，而那个“自然”却正是户外运动者们所喜爱的，因为这些需要完全可以通过别的方式获得更加简捷、更加充分的满足。实际上，这些人的活动所产生的最为显著的效果，实际上就是通过将他们破坏能力所能及的一切生物置于死地，使自然景色长期地处于一片荒芜的状态。

然而这些户外运动者们却声称，在现存的习惯制度下，要满足他们消遣和亲近自然的需要，只有像他们那样的做法才可以实现；这个说法是有它的理由的。过去纯掠夺性的有闲阶级，通过示范作用，已经树立了某些礼仪准则，这些准则在这个阶级的现代代表人物的使用过程中费尽心力地保持着，按照这个准则的规定，他是不被允许以别的方式接近自然的，违背了这个成规就要受到责备。渔猎等活动，从掠夺文化时期流传到现在，一直被认为是光荣的工作，是日常有闲生活中的最高形式，结果它们逐渐成为在礼节上获得充分许可的户外运动的唯一方式。狩猎和钓鱼的最贴切的动机之一，可能是出于对消遣和户外生活的需要。使在有组织的屠杀的掩护下追求这些目标成为必要的深层起因是习惯势力，除非自甘暴弃，冒着损害声誉从而损害自尊心的危险，否则这个习惯势力是不容违抗的。

其他户外活动的情况也大致相同。在这些户外活动中，体育比赛是最好的范例。在荣誉生活的礼俗下，那些活动、运动和娱乐的方式是获得认可的，关于这些方面的传统习惯，这里也当然存在。那些体育运动的爱好者或欣赏者认为这些户外活动是娱乐和“体育文化”的现有的最适当方式。这种看法受到了传统习惯的支持。凡是被荣誉生活准则排除在一切有闲阶级的生活方式之外的，都不能列入炫耀性有闲的活动；由此，出于习惯势力，这类准则也倾向于把这些活动排除在一般的社会生活方式以外。同时，无目的的体育运动则被认为是乏味的、讨厌的，让人无法忍受。因此，像在上面另一段里已经提到过的那样，即使所提出的目标只是出于伪装的某种活动方式，也应当求助于至少在表面上说得过去的某种借口。种种户外活动能够满足这样的要求，因为这类活动并没有实用性，却有一个似是而非的、伪装下的目的。此外它们还使竞赛有了开展的空间，从而使竞赛本身也具有了吸引力。一种活动，为了要符合礼仪上的要求，就得与有闲阶级的荣誉浪费准则相一致。然而，一切活动，作为一种习惯的、甚至只是部分的生活表现，如要持久存在，就必须与适用于某种目的这一人类共同的效用准则相一致。有闲阶级准则所要求的是严格的和广泛的非实用性，而作业本能所要求的是有目的的活动。有闲阶级礼仪准则的作用是，对一切实用的或有目的的活动方式，从既定的生活方式中，逐渐地、普遍地加以淘汰，而作业本能的作用是一往直前，并且因为达到了一个直接目的而获得一时的满足。作业本能发挥作用是比较迟钝的，只有当人们理解到的某一类动作所内含的不切实际，已经反映到意识复合体，成为一个与生活过程中正常的、有目的的趋向相反的因素时，才会在动作者的意识上发生使之不安的影响和制止的作用。

个人的种种思想习惯构成了一个有机复合体，这个复合体的趋向必然在于生活过程的便利与适用。如果以有系统的浪费或无实用性作为生活中的一个目标，要把它纳入这个有机复合体并与之同化，则不久就会发生剧变。但是如果能够把注意力局限在贴切的、不作深切思考的灵敏动作或竞赛努力这些方面的目的上，则有机体的这种剧变或许可以避免。那些户外活动，如狩猎、钓鱼、体育竞赛等类似活动，就提供了发挥掠夺生活中动作灵敏和竞赛性的凶猛和狡猾等特征的机会。只要个人所具有的反省能力相当薄弱，或者对他自己行为的最终目的感觉相当迟钝，只要他的生活实质上是在自然冲动作用下的生活，那么种种直接的和不作深切思考的目的性户外活动，通过支配性的表现方式，就可以在大体上满足他的作业本能。如果他所具有的主要冲动，是属于掠夺气质的那种不作深刻思考的竞赛型倾向，则情况更是如此。同时，礼仪准则会引导他，让他认为上述种种户外活动是在金钱上无可非难的生活中的表现。任何一种活动，之所以能成为娱乐中一个传统的和习惯的礼貌方式，并保持这个地位，是由于它能同时满足内含的浪费与表面的目的性这两种要求。在这种意义上，由于其他方式的娱乐和运动，对于敏感的、有教养的那些人来说，是道义上所不容许的，于是上述这类活动就成为在现有环境下的最佳娱乐方式。

但是，那些值得尊敬的社会成员在提倡体育竞赛，对他们自己和所接触到的一些人证明他们在这一点上态度正确时，一般给出的根据就是，这类竞赛是取得种种发展的一个非常宝贵的手段。它们不但可以促进参加者体格的发展，而且能够发扬参与者或旁观者的男子汉气概。谈到体育竞赛的适用性这个问题时，这个社会中的任何人首先想到的一种竞赛大概是足球；因为对体育竞赛有助于体格发展或男子汉气概培养这一点不论是赞成或反对的人们来说，首先浮现在他们脑海中的，就是体育竞赛中的这一形式。因此可以把这一典型的体育活动作为一个范例，用来说明体育活动同参加者的性格发展与体格发展的关系。曾经有过这样一个不恰当的说法，足球同体育的关系非常像斗牛同农业的关系，这个说法未尝没有理由。要保持这类娱乐方式的适用性，需要持续不断的训练和培养。所使用的材料，不论是给动物还是人类的，必须经过审慎的选择和训练，才能保持并加强在野生状态下所特有的某些素性和习性，这类特征在驯养状态下是要逐渐退化的。这并不是说无论在何种情况下，野生的或未开化的身心习惯都可以得到全面与彻底的恢复。结果实际上是未开化性格或野生性格的片面恢复——所恢复和加强的是偏于破坏和损害方面的野生特征，至于足以适应野生环境下的自卫本能和生活充实的特征，则并没有得到相应的发展。从足球这类活动获得的锻炼是凶暴和狡猾。这是一种早期未开化的气质的恢复，受到抑制的是气质中的某些细节部分，从社会和经济要求的观点来看，这些部分却是野蛮特性中的补偿性优点。

教育的明显无用论

近来在大专和大学的教学范围内发生了一些实质性的变化。那些有助于提高民用与工业效率的比较注重实际的学科，部分地代替了人文学科——也就是人们认为有利于促进传统的“文化”、特性、爱好和理念的那些学科。换言之，那些有助于提高效率的学科（最终是生产效率），同有助于提高消费或降低工业效率并且足以养成与身份制度相适应的性格类型的那些学科相比，其地位已逐渐增强。在此教育规划的适应过程中，高等学校一般总是偏于保守；它们每向前迈进一步，就会在一定程度上带有妥协的性质。有关科学的学科，强行地进入学者的训导，即使不能说是从下面来的，也是从外面来的。值得注意的是，人文学科尽管如此勉强地对有关科学的学科作了让步，但是它相当普遍地适合学生按照传统的以自我为中心的消费方式塑造其性格，这种消费方式在性质上是按照传统的礼仪与品行标准进行的对真美善的思考和享受，其显著特征是有闲，是一种怡然自得的有闲。人文学科的代言人，以那种被他们所习惯的古老的、端庄的观点所影响的措辞，坚持他们的观点，而他们的观点在“人是为消费世上的产物而生存的”那句古话里已充分体现。这种态度对那些由有闲阶级文化构成并依赖于有闲文化的学校而言，实在不足为奇。

当人们为了维持公认的文化标准和文化方式原封不动而尽力寻找公开的根据时，就此而言，这类根据也就是古老气质和有闲阶级生活理论的一些特征。比如，在有复古遗风的有闲阶级中颇为流行的那种生活、观念、意念和消费时间与物品的方式，对它们进行习惯性思考而得来的享乐和意向，与对现代社会中普通人的日常生活、知识和志趣等方面的熟悉以及由此而得到的结果比起来，人们总觉得前者是“比较高级的”、“比较高尚的”、“比较有价值的”。

任何学术，如果其内容完全是属于现代人类与现代事物的一些知识，则与人文学科相比较，人们总觉得它是“低级的”、“卑俗的”、“没有荣誉性的”，甚至有人用“次人类的”这种词语来形容人类和日常生活的实用知识。

有闲阶级代言人对于人文学科的这种看法，似乎本质上是正确的。从事实的本质来看，作为一位早期的绅士，他的精神所惯于寄托的是神人同形同性的信念、宗派观念和怡然自得的态度，他所熟悉的是万物有灵的迷信和荷马英雄式的那种生龙活虎的凶狠残暴；由此产生的满足和文化，或者是由此形成的精神态度或思维习惯，从审美的观点来看，比从事物的实在知识或者从现代公民或工业效率方面的思考而得来的一些结果，要恰当得多。几乎是毫无疑问，上述前一类习惯，关系到审美价值或荣誉价值时，也就是关系到以之作为对比中的荣誉基础的“价值”时，自然有其优势。爱好准则，尤其是荣誉准则的概念内容，总是民族的过去生活与环境的产物，通过遗传或世袭而传递给后代；事实上正是由于纯掠夺和有闲阶级的生活方式长期地处于主导地位，深刻地影响了民族在过去的思维习惯和观点，因此，上述标准在现代生活中的大部分审美问题上依然被沿用。从目前的研究意义上来看，爱好准则是民族的习性；过去人们根据爱好对各种事物评头论足，有些给予好评，有些则给予恶评，从而对它们加以认可或反对，就是在这样相当长期的习惯过程中形成了民族习性。假如其他情况没有变化，爱好准则形成的时间越久，且未被阻断，其合理性越强。对一般爱好的评价固然是这样，对价值或荣誉方面的评价似乎更是如此。

但是，不论人文学科代言人对比较新的学识进行贬斥，从审美角度看可能是怎样的言之有理，还是有人提出的古典学识更具有价值，更加能够体现人类的文化和性格的说法如何具有实质性，这些都与我们现在研究的问题没有关系。这里的问题是，这类比较新的学识以及这类学识在教育系统中所代表的观点，能够在多大程度上促进或者妨碍现代工业环境下的有效集体生活，能够在多大程度上推进对今天的经济局势的适应。这里所说的是一个经济问题，而非审美问题；那种在学识上的有闲阶级标准表现在高等学校对实用知识的轻视态度，就这里的研究目的而言，只能从经济的观点来加以评价。在这样的目的下，那些“高尚”、“卑俗”、“高级”、“低级”等诸如此类的形容词，只是在表明争论者的意向或观点时才有意义；不论他们所要辩解的是新学识还是旧学识的价值。这些形容词都是带些敬意或蔑视的字眼；也就是说，是含有歧视性对比意义的字眼，归根到底都属于荣誉或非荣誉含义的范畴；是属于身份制下的生活方式所特有的那个范围以内的一些观念；实质上是运动精神的表现，属于掠夺的并且万物有灵的思维惯性，也就是说，这些字眼体现了古老的观点和生活理论，它们或许与掠夺时期的文化和经济组织相匹配，但从比较广义的经济效率这个观点来看，是有害的时代错误。

古典学，以及它在教育计划中的特权地位，受到高等学校那样热烈的拥护，足以构成一种智力态度，从而降低新生一代的经济效率。学校为了贯彻这一方针，不但努力保持人们的古老观念，而且在教学中向学生灌输对知识作出荣誉的和非荣誉的区别。这样的结果是通过两种方式取得的：（1）激起人们对纯实用性的学识（与纯荣誉性学识相对照）的一种习惯性反感，从而使初学者真心诚意地感到，能够影响他的爱好的，只是，或者几乎只是一般无助于工业利益或社会利益的那类智力的发挥；（2）使学习者的时间和精力消耗在某些无实用性的知识的习得上，只是由于这种知识按照传统，已经与作为一个学者所需要具有的学识总和结合在一起，因此影响到了实用性知识所使用的措辞和术语。除了这种术语上的困难——这一点本身就是过去流行古典学所造成的结果——之外，古典语知识对任何科学家，或者对那些不以语言学为主要研究工作的学者，并没有什么实际意义。当然，这里所说的一切，与古典学本身的文化价值毫无关系，对于古典学的教导以及古典学研究赋予学生的那类性格倾向，也没有任何诽谤意图。这种性格倾向在经济上似乎不适用，这一事实几乎已经是众所周知的，但是那些能够从古典学中找到安慰并且获得力量的幸运之人，却用不着因此感到惴惴不安。古典学的学习有损于学习者的劳动态度这一事实，对那些认为劳动与礼仪标准的修养相比是件小事的人来说，是无足轻重的：

前一代的信仰、荣誉和德行是不容轻视的，

过去所忽视的事物将逝如流水，

一去不复返。

这类知识已成为我们教育系统基本要求中的一部分，在这种环境下，理解与使用欧洲南部的某种古代语言的能力，不仅令使用者在获得夸耀其成就的机会时感到满足，而且任何学者都可以使不论外行还是内行的听众与读者对他增加一份敬意。要获得这种实际上无用的知识，据估计一般需要花费若干年的时间，如果缺乏这种知识，就不免要引起一种猜测，使人们感觉到这个人的学习过程未免过于仓促，他的学问有些靠不住，同时还会使人感觉到他身上那种粗俗的实用感，而这一点也不符合完美学识和智力的习惯标准，是同样惹人厌恶的。

这同一个对商品材料或制作没有专门鉴别力的买家购买任何一件消费品时的情形是相类似的。他对物品的价值进行评估的主要依据就是那些装饰的部分和特征在表面上的华丽，这同物品的内在实用性并没有直接关系。推测的结论就是：在物品的实际价值与为了出售物品而添上的装饰费用之间，存在着一个难以确定的比例。由此而推出，学术方面的情况也是这样，人们认为学识中如果缺少了古典学和人文学科的知识，就不算是完善的学识，由此导致了一般学习者为了取得此类知识而造成时间和精力的明显浪费。将些许明显的浪费作为一切荣誉学识的附属品这种传统要求，影响了我们对学识方面的爱好准则和适用性准则；就同我们对制造品的适用性的评价也受到同一原则的影响一样。

作为获得荣誉的一种手段，炫耀性消费受到的重视越来越超过炫耀性有闲，这是千真万确的，因此习得古代语言知识这一要求已经不像原来那样迫切，以前曾作为具有完美学识的证明，而现在其魅力也随之消退。尽管情形是如此，但同样明确的是，古典学几乎没有丧失其作为学者声望的证明的绝对价值，学者如果要设法表明他具有那类在习惯认识上就是浪费时间的证明的学识，那么最适合这一用途的学识就是古典学。实际上，毫无疑问，古典学由于具有作为浪费时间与精力的证明这一效用，也就是具有作为支持这种浪费所必需的金钱力量的证明这一效用，所以能够确保古典学在高级学识体系中占有特权地位，而且能受到尊崇，被认为是一切学识之中最可敬的。古典学比任何其他知识都适合于有闲阶级学识的装饰目的，因此是获得荣誉的一个有效手段。

在这个效用方面，古典学到最近为止，鲜有敌手。它在欧洲大陆依然所向无敌，但在美国和英国的学校里，情况却并非如此。自从大学体育运动在学术成就的一般领域内努力取得认可地位后，这一学术——假使可以把体育运动随意地归为学术一类的话——在英美学校的有闲阶级教育中，已经成为同古典学分庭抗礼的敌手。就有闲阶级学识的目的来说，体育运动比古典学具有一个更明显的优势，即一个成功的运动家的先决条件不仅是浪费时间，而且是浪费金钱，同时他还须具有某种高度非生产性的古老性格和气质特征。在德国的大学里，那种技术性的、分等级的饮酒风气和肤浅的决斗，作为有闲阶级学者的工作，在某种程度上代替了体育运动和用希腊字母命名的大学联谊会活动。

有闲阶级及其品质标准——拟古主义和浪费——同古典学纳入高级学识体系这件事，本来几乎是毫无关联的，但高等学校之所以要坚决保留古典学以及古典学所具有的高度荣誉性，其原因无疑是由于这种学术与拟古主义和浪费的要求是如此密切地相符。

所谓“古典学”，不论是用来意指过去的语言，还是意指现行语言中已经废弃的或快要不用的思想表达形式和措辞，抑或是意指在较低的适合性情况下应用于学术活动或工具中的其他项目，总是带有这种仿古与浪费的意义。因此，英语中的古代成语被称为“古典”英语。在严肃性课题的所有讲演和写作中，古语的使用是尤其必要的，即使在普通谈话和家长里短的闲聊中，如果能轻松流利地使用一些古语，总是能增加一抹光彩。当然，英语中的最新辞调绝不是写在纸上的，有闲阶级的礼仪观念要求在讲演中讲究古雅，这一要求甚至对那些最缺乏教育、或者最哗众取宠的作家们也有充分的约束力，足以阻止他们逾越雷池一步。另一方面，那种最高级的、最高度规格化的古代措辞，只在具有神人同形同性信念的臣民向神灵祈祷时，才会富有特性地使用。而在口语中的最新辞调和祈祷用语中的尽力仿古之间的，则是有闲阶级在谈话和写作中的通常用语。

在写作和谈话中，文雅的措辞是获得荣誉的一个有效手段。就某一既定话题准备发言时，对措辞应当古雅到什么程度才符合习惯要求要相当准确地加以琢磨，这是一个重要的问题。从讲道坛到买卖市场，在措辞的使用上差别是很大的，可以想象出来，在后一个地方，即使是吹毛求疵的人也会允许使用比较新的、动人的措辞和语调。在措辞中刻意避免使用新语汇这一事实是有荣誉性的，它不但说明，这位发言人为了养成用古语来表达意见的习惯曾浪费了时间，而且充分证明，他自幼就习惯于同熟悉古语的人相处。由此可见，他出身于不折不扣的有闲阶级。从他谈吐的高度纯正就可以推断出这个人是世代从不接触粗鄙的、有实用性的工作的；虽然它对这一点的证明作用并不是绝对决定性的。

在远东以外，要说明古典学的无实用性，能找到的最适当的例子要算英语的传统拼法了。违反拼法上的规范是极度令人气恼的事情，在充分具有真与美的观念的人们心目中，犯了这种错误的任何作家，是颜面尽失的。英语的正字法足以适应明显浪费定律下的一切荣誉准则的要求。它既古老、累赘而又无效用；精通它需要花费许多时间和精力，英语正字法掌握的不到位是极容易被觉察的。因此，就学识的荣誉这个方面来说，这是第一个也是当面见效的考验，对一个无可指责的学者而言，符合它的要求程序是绝对必要的。

对于语言要求纯正这一方面的上述习惯，正同以拟古准则与浪费准则为依据的其他方面的传统使用习惯一样，它的代言人总是本能地采取辩解态度。他们在实质上主张谨小慎微地使用古代的、公认的语法来传达思想，比直接使用最新型的口语来传达要恰当得多、精确得多，然而今天的思想只有用今天的俗语才能有效地表达，这一点众所周知。古典语所具有的是“尊贵”的荣誉品质，它是在有闲阶级生活方式下交流思想的公认手段，这足以引起人们的注意与尊重，并且直接传达着这样一种观点：使用这种语言的人是脱离生产劳动的。古典语的措辞优点在于它具有荣誉性，而之所以具有荣誉性，是由于它是累赘的和过时的，因此它能够证明时间的浪费，还能证明他们避免使用并且不需要直接强有力的语言。

Thorstein Veblen Conspicuous Consumption

PENGUIN BOOKS—GREAT IDEAS

Contents

The Leisure Class

Conspicuous Leisure: Status and Servants

Conspicuous Consumption: Women, Luxury Goods and Connoisseurship

Canons of Taste: Greenery and Pets

Admission to the Leisure Class

Survivals of Primitive Male Prowess: Fighting and Sports

Conspicuous Uselessness of Education

返回分册总目录

The Leisure Class

The institution of a leisure class is found in its best development at the higher stages of the barbarian culture; as, for instance, in feudal Europe or feudal Japan. In such communities the distinction between classes is very rigorously observed; and the feature of most striking economic significance in these class differences is the distinction maintained between the employments proper to the several classes. The upper classes are by custom exempt or excluded from industrial occupations, and are reserved for certain employments to which a degree of honour attaches. Chief among the honourable employments in any feudal community is warfare; and priestly service is commonly second to warfare. If the barbarian community is not notably warlike, the priestly office may take the precedence, with that of the warrior second. But the rule holds with but slight exceptions that, whether warriors or priests, the upper classes are exempt from industrial employments, and this exemption is the economic expression of their superior rank. Brahmin India affords a fair illustration of the industrial exemption of both these classes. In the communities belonging to the higher barbarian culture there is a considerable differentiation of sub-classes within what may be comprehensively called the leisure class; and there is a corresponding differentiation of employments between these sub-classes. The leisure class as a whole comprises the noble and the priestly classes, together with much of their retinue. The occupations of the class are correspondingly diversified; but they have the common economic characteristic of being nonindustrial. These non-industrial upper-class occupations may be roughly comprised under government, warfare, religious observances, and sports.

At an earlier, but not the earliest, stage of barbarism, the leisure class is found in a less differentiated form. Neither the class distinctions nor the distinctions between leisure-class occupations are so minute and intricate. The Polynesian islanders generally show this stage of the development in good form, with the exception that, owing to the absence of large game, hunting does not hold the usual place of honour in their scheme of life. The Icelandic community in the time of the Sagas also affords a fair instance. In such a community there is a rigorous distinction between classes and between the occupations peculiar to each class. Manual labour, industry, whatever has to do directly with the everyday work of getting a livelihood, is the exclusive occupation of the inferior class. This inferior class includes slaves and other dependents, and ordinarily also all the women. If there are several grades of aristocracy, the women of high rank are commonly exempt from industrial employment, or at least from the more vulgar kinds of manual labour. The men of the upper classes are not only exempt, but by prescriptive custom they are debarred, from all industrial occupations. The range of employments open to them is rigidly defined. As on the higher plane already spoken of, these employments are government, warfare, religious observances, and sports. These four lines of activity govern the scheme of life of the upper classes, and for the highest rank-the kings or chieftains-these are the only kinds of activity that custom or the common sense of the community will allow. Indeed, where the scheme is well developed even sports are accounted doubtfully legitimate for the members of the highest rank. To the lower grades of the leisure class certain other employments are open, but they are employments that are subsidiary to one or another of these typical leisure-class occupations. Such are, for instance, the manufacture and care of arms and accoutrements and of war canoes, the dressing and handling of horses, dogs, and hawks, the preparation of sacred apparatus, etc. The lower classes are excluded from these secondary honourable employments, except from such as are plainly of an industrial character and are only remotely related to the typical leisure-class occupations.

If we go a step back of this exemplary barbarian culture, into the lower stages of barbarism, we no longer find the leisure class in fully developed form. But this lower barbarism shows the usages, motives, and circumstances out of which the institution of a leisure class has arisen, and indicates the steps of its early growth. Nomadic hunting tribes in various parts of the world illustrate these more primitive phases of the differentiation. Any one of the North American hunting tribes may be taken as a convenient illustration. These tribes can scarcely be said to have a defined leisure class. There is a differentiation of function, and there is a distinction between classes on the basis of this difference of function, but the exemption of the superior class from work has not gone far enough to make the designation 'leisure class' altogether applicable. The tribes belonging on this economic level have carried the economic differentiation to the point at which a marked distinction is made between the occupations of men and women, and this distinction is of an invidious character. In nearly all these tribes the women are, by prescriptive custom, held to those employments out of which the industrial occupations proper develop at the next advance. The men are exempt from these vulgar employments and are reserved for war, hunting, sports, and devout observances. A very nice discrimination is ordinarily shown in this matter.

This division of labour coincides with the distinction between the working and the leisure class as it appears in the higher barbarian culture. As the diversification and specialisation of employments proceed, the line of demarcation so drawn comes to divide the industrial from the non-industrial employments. The man's occupation as it stands at the earlier barbarian stage is not the original out of which any appreciable portion of later industry has developed. In the later development it survives only in employments that are not classed as industrial, -war, politics, sports, learning, and the priestly office. The only notable exceptions are a portion of the fishery industry and certain slight employments that are doubtfully to be classed as industry; such as the manufacture of arms, toys, and sporting goods. Virtually the whole range of industrial employments is an outgrowth of what is classed as woman's work in the primitive barbarian community.

The work of the men in the lower barbarian culture is no less indispensable to the life of the group than the work done by the women. It may even be that the men's work contributes as much to the food supply and the other necessary consumption of the group. Indeed, so obvious is this 'productive' character of the men's work that in the conventional economic writings the hunter's work is taken as the type of primitive industry. But such is not the barbarian's sense of the matter. In his own eyes he is not a labourer, and he is not to be classed with the women in this respect; nor is his effort to be classed with the women's drudgery, as labour or industry, in such a sense as to admit of its being confounded with the latter. There is in all barbarian communities a profound sense of the disparity between man's and woman's work. His work may conduce to the maintenance of the group, but it is felt that it does so through an excellence and an efficacy of a kind that cannot without derogation be compared with the uneventful diligence of the women.

At a farther step backward in the cultural scale-among savage groups-the differentiation of employments is still less elaborate and the invidious distinction between classes and employments is less consistent and less rigorous. Unequivocal instances of a primitive savage culture are hard to find. Few of those groups or communities that are classed as 'savage' show no traces of regression from a more advanced cultural stage. But there are groups-some of them apparently not the result of retrogression-which show the traits of primitive savagery with some fidelity. Their culture differs from that of the barbarian communities in the absence of a leisure class and the absence, in great measure, of the animus or spiritual attitude on which the institution of a leisure class rests. These communities of primitive savages in which there is no hierarchy of economic classes make up but a small and inconspicuous fraction of the human race. As good an instance of this phase of culture as may be had is afforded by the tribes of the Andamans, or by the Todas of the Nilgiri Hills. The scheme of life of these groups at the time of their earliest contact with Europeans seems to have been nearly typical, so far as regards the absence of a leisure class. As a further instance might be cited the Ainu of Yezo, and, more doubtfully, also some Bushman and Eskimo groups. Some Pueblo communities are less confidently to be included in the same class. Most, if not all, of the communities here cited may well be cases of degeneration from a higher barbarism, rather than bearers of a culture that has never risen above its present level. If so, they are for the present purpose to be taken with allowance, but they may serve none the less as evidence to the same effect as if they were really 'primitive' populations.

These communities that are without a defined leisure class resemble one another also in certain other features of their social structure and manner of life. They are small groups and of a simple (archaic) structure; they are commonly peaceable and sedentary; they are poor; and individual ownership is not a dominant feature of their economic system. At the same time it does not follow that these are the smallest of existing communities, or that their social structure is in all respects the least differentiated; nor does the class necessarily include all primitive communities which have no defined system of individual ownership. But it is to be noted that the class seems to include the most peaceable-perhaps all the characteristically peaceable-primitive groups of men. Indeed, the most notable trait common to members of such communities is a certain amiable inefficiency when confronted with force or fraud.

The evidence afforded by the usages and cultural traits of communities at a low stage of development indicates that the institution of a leisure class has emerged gradually during the transition from primitive savagery to barbarism; or more precisely, during the transition from a peaceable to a consistently warlike habit of life. The conditions apparently necessary to its emergence in a consistent form are: (1) the community must be of a predatory habit of life (war or the hunting of large game or both); that is to say, the men, who constitute the inchoate leisure class in these cases, must be habituated to the infliction of injury by force and stratagem; (2) subsistence must be obtainable on sufficiently easy terms to admit of the exemption of a considerable portion of the community from steady application to a routine of labour. The institution of a leisure class is the outgrowth of an early discrimination between employments, according to which some employments are worthy and others unworthy. Under this ancient distinction the worthy employments are those which may be classed as exploit; unworthy are those necessary everyday employments into which no appreciable element of exploit enters.

This distinction has but little obvious significance in a modem industrial community, and it has, therefore, received but slight attention at the hands of economic writers. When viewed in the light of that modern common sense which has guided economic discussion, it seems formal and insubstantial. But it persists with great tenacity as a commonplace preconception even in modem life, as is shown, for instance, by our habitual aversion to menial employments. It is a distinction of a personal kind-of superiority and inferiority. In the earlier stages of culture, when the personal force of the individual counted more immediately and obviously in shaping the course of events, the element of exploit counted for more in the everyday scheme of life. Interest centred about this fact to a greater degree. Consequently a distinction proceeding on this ground seemed more imperative and more definitive then than is the case to-day. As a fact in the sequence of development, therefore, the distinction is a substantial one and rests on sufficiently valid and cogent grounds.

The ground on which a discrimination between facts is habitually made changes as the interest from which the facts are habitually viewed changes. Those features of the facts at hand are salient and substantial upon which the dominant interest of the time throws its light. Any given ground of distinction will seem insubstantial to any one who habitually apprehends the facts in question from a different point of view and values them for a different purpose. The habit of distinguishing and classifying the various purposes and directions of activity prevails of necessity always and everywhere; for it is indispensable in reaching a working theory or scheme of life. The particular point of view, or the particular characteristic that is pitched upon as definitive in the classification of the facts of life depends upon the interest from which a discrimination of the facts is sought. The grounds of discrimination, and the norm of procedure in classifying the facts, therefore, progressively change as the growth of culture proceeds; for the end for which the facts of life are apprehended changes, and the point of view consequently changes also. So that what are recognised as the salient and decisive features of a class of activities or of a social class at one stage of culture will not retain the same relative importance for the purposes of dassification at any subsequent stage.

But the change of standards and points of view is gradual only, and it seldom results in the subversion or entire suppression of a standpoint once accepted. A distinction is still habitually made between industrial and non-industrial occupations; and this modem distinction is a transmuted form of the barbarian distinction between exploit and drudgery. Such employments as warfare, politics, public worship, and public merrymaking, are felt, in the popular apprehension, to differ intrinsically from the labour that has to do with elaborating the material means of life. The precise line of demarcation is not the same as it was in the early barbarian scheme, but the broad distinction has not fallen into disuse.

The tacit, common-sense distinction to-day is, in effect, that any effort is to be accounted industrial only so far as its ultimate purpose is the utilisation of nonhuman things. The coercive utilisation of man by man is not felt to be an industrial function; but all effort directed to enhance human life by taking advantage of the nonhuman environment is classed together as industrial activity. By the economists who have best retained and adapted the classical tradition, man's 'power over nature' is currently postulated as the characteristic fact of industrial productivity. This industrial power over nature is taken to include man's power over the life of the beasts and over all the elemental forces. A line is in this way drawn between mankind and brute creation.

In other times and among men imbued with a different body of preconceptions, this line is not drawn precisely as we draw it to-day. In the savage or the barbarian scheme of life it is drawn in a different place and in another way. In all communities under the barbarian culture there is an alert and pervading sense of antithesis between two comprehensive groups of phenomena, in one of which barbarian man includes himself, and in the other, his victual. There is a felt antithesis between economic and non-economic phenomena, but it is not conceived in the modem fashion; it lies not between man and brute creation, but between animate and inert things.

It may be an excess of caution at this day to explain that the barbarian notion which it is here intended to convey by the term 'animate' is not the same as would be conveyed by the word 'living'. The term does not cover all living things, and it does cover a great many others. Such a striking natural phenomenon as a storm, a disease, a waterfall, are recognised as 'animate'; while fruits and herbs, and even inconspicuous animals, such as house-flies, maggots, lemmings, sheep, are not ordinarily apprehended as 'animate' except when taken collectively. As here used the term does not necessarily imply an indwelling soul or spirit. The concept includes such things as in the apprehension of the animistic savage or barbarian are formidable by virtue of a real or imputed habit of initiating action. This category comprises a large number and range of natural objects and phenomena. Such a distinction between the inert and the active is still present in the habits of thought of unreflecting persons, and it still profoundly affects the prevalent theory of human life and of natural processes; but it does not pervade our daily life to the extent or with the far-reaching practical consequences that are apparent at earlier stages of culture and belief.

To the mind of the barbarian, the elaboration and utilisation of what is afforded by inert nature is activity on quite a different plane from his dealings with 'animate' things and forces. The line of demarcation may be vague and shifting, but the broad distinction is sufficiently real and cogent to influence the barbarian scheme of life. To the class of things apprehended as animate, the barbarian fancy imputes an unfolding of activity directed to some end. It is this teleological unfolding of activity that constitutes any object or phenomenon an 'animate' fact. Wherever the unsophisticated savage or barbarian meets with activity that is at all obtrusive, he construes it in the only terms that are ready to hand-the terms immediately given in his consciousness of his own actions. Activity is, therefore, assimilated to human action, and active objects are in so far assimilated to the human agent. Phenomena of this character-especially those whose behaviour is notably formidable or baffling-have to be met in a different spirit and with proficiency of a different kind from what is required in dealing with inert things. To deal successfully with such phenomena is a work of exploit rather than of industry. It is an assertion of prowess, not of diligence.

Under the guidance of this naive discrimination between the inert and the animate, the activities of the primitive social group tend to fall into two classes, which would in modem phrase be called exploit and industry. Industry is effort that goes to create a new thing, with a new purpose given it by the fashioning hand of its maker out of passive ('brute') material; while exploit, so far as it results in an outcome useful to the agent, is the conversion to his own ends of energies previously directed to some other end by another agent. We still speak of 'brute matter' with something of the barbarian's realisation of a profound significance in the term.

The distinction between exploit and drudgery coincides with a difference between the sexes. The sexes differ, not only in stature and muscular force, but perhaps even more decisively in temperament, and this must early have given rise to a corresponding division of labour. The general range of activities that come under the head of exploit falls to the males as being the stouter, more massive, better capable of a sudden and violent strain, and more readily inclined to self-assertion, active emulation, and aggression. The difference in mass, in physiological character, and in temperament may be slight among the members of the primitive group; it appears, in fact, to be relatively slight and inconsequential in some of the more archaic communities with which we are acquainted-as for instance the tribes of the Andamans. But so soon as a differentiation of function has well begun on the lines marked out by this difference in physique and animus, the original difference between the sexes will itself widen. A cumulative process of selective adaptation to the new distribution of employments will set in, especially if the habitat or the fauna with which the group is in contact is such as to call for a considerable exercise of the sturdier virtues. The habitual pursuit of large game requires more of the manly qualities of massiveness, agility, and ferocity, and it can therefore scarcely fail to hasten and widen the differentiation of functions between the sexes. And so soon as the group comes into hostile contact with other groups, the divergence of function will take on the developed form of a distinction between exploit and industry.

In such a predatory group of hunters it comes to be the able-bodied men's office to fight and hunt. The women do what other work there is to do-other members who are unfit for man's work being for this purpose classed with the women. But the men's hunting and fighting are both of the same general character. Both are of a predatory nature; the warrior and the hunter alike reap where they have not strewn. Their aggressive assertion of force and sagacity differs obviously from the women's assiduous and uneventful shaping of materials; it is not to be accounted productive labour, but rather an acquisition of substance by seizure. Such being the barbarian man's work, in its best development and widest divergence from women's work, any effort that does not involve an assertion of prowess comes to be unworthy of the man. As the tradition gains consistency, the common sense of the community erects it into a canon of conduct; so that no employment and no acquisition is morally possible to the self-respecting man at this cultural stage, except such as proceeds on the basis of prowess-force or fraud. When the predatory habit of life has been settled upon the group by long habituation, it becomes the able-bodied man's accredited office in the social economy to kill, to destroy such competitors in the struggle for existence as attempt to resist or elude him, to overcome and reduce to subservience those alien forces that assert themselves refractorily in the environment. So tenaciously and with such nicety is this theoretical distinction between exploit and drudgery adhered to that in many hunting tribes the man must not bring home the game which he has killed, but must send his woman to perform that baser office.

As has already been indicated, the distinction between exploit and drudgery is an invidious distinction between employments. Those employments which are to be classed as exploit are worthy, honourable, noble; other employments, which do not contain this element of exploit, and especially those which imply subservience or submission, are unworthy, debasing, ignoble. The concept of dignity, worth, or honour, as applied either to persons or conduct, is of first-rate consequence in the development of classes and of class distinctions, and it is therefore necessary to say something of its derivation and meaning. Its psychological ground may be indicated in outline as follows.

As a matter of selective necessity, man is an agent. He is, in his own apprehension, a centre of unfolding impulsive activity- 'teleological' activity. He is an agent seeking in every act the accomplishment of some concrete, objective, impersonal end. By force of his being such an agent he is possessed of a taste for effective work, and a distaste for futile effort. He has a sense of the merit of serviceability or efficiency and of the demerit of futility, waste, or incapacity. This aptitude or propensity may be called the instinct of workmanship. Wherever the circumstances or traditions of life lead to an habitual comparison of one person with another in point of efficiency, the instinct of workmanship works out in an emulative or invidious comparison of persons. The extent to which this result follows depends in some considerable degree on the temperament of the population. In any community where such an invidious comparison of persons is habitually made, visible success becomes an end sought for its own utility as a basis of esteem. Esteem is gained and dispraise is avoided by putting one's efficiency in evidence. The result is that the instinct of workmanship works out in an emulative demonstration of force.

During that primitive phase of social development, when the community is still habitually peaceable, perhaps sedentary, and without a developed system of individual ownership, the efficiency of the individual can be shown chiefly and most consistently in some employment that goes to further the life of the group. What emulation of an economic kind there is between the members of such a group will be chiefly emulation in industrial serviceability. At the same time the incentive to emulation is not strong, nor is the scope for emulation large.

When the community passes from peaceable savagery to a predatory phase of life, the conditions of emulation change. The opportunity and the incentive to emulation increase greatly in scope and urgency. The activity of the men more and more takes on the character of exploit; and an invidious comparison of one hunter or warrior with another grows continually easier and more habitual. Tangible evidences of prowess-trophies-find a place in men's habits of thought as an essential feature of the paraphernalia of life. Booty, trophies of the chase or of the raid, come to be prized as evidence of preëminent force. Aggression becomes the accredited form of action, and booty serves as prima facie evidence of successful aggression. As accepted at this cultural stage, the accredited, worthy form of self-assertion is contest; and useful articles or services obtained by seizure or compulsion, serve as a conventional evidence of successful contest. Therefore, by contrast, the obtain- ing of goods by other methods than seizure comes to be accounted unworthy of man in his best estate. The performance of productive work, or employment in personal service, falls under the same odium for the same reason. An invidious distinction in this way arises between exploit and acquisition by seizure on the one hand and industrial employment on the other hand. Labour acquires a character of irksomeness by virtue of the indignity imputed to it.

With the primitive barbarian, before the simple content of the notion has been obscured by its own ramifications and by a secondary growth of cognate ideas, 'honourable' seems to connote nothing else than assertion of superior force. 'Honourable' is 'formidable'; 'worthy' is 'prepotent'. A honorific act is in the last analysis little if anything else than a recognised successful act of aggression; and where aggression means conflict with men and beasts, the activity which comes to be especially and primarily honourable is the assertion of the strong hand. The naive, archaic habit of construing all manifestations of force in terms of personality or 'will power' greatly fortifies this conventional exaltation of the strong hand. Honorific epithets, in vogue among barbarian tribes as well as among peoples of a more advanced culture, commonly bear the stamp of this unsophisticated sense of honour. Epithets and titles used in addressing chieftains, and in the propitiation of kings and gods, very commonly impute a propensity for overbearing violence and an irresistible devastating force to the person who is to be propitiated. This holds true to an extent also in the more civilised communities of the present day. The predilection shown in heraldic devices for the more rapacious beasts and birds of prey goes to enforce the same view.

Under this common-sense barbarian appreciation of worth or honour, the taking of life-the killing of formidable competitors, whether brute or human-is honourable in the highest degree. And this high office of slaughter, as an expression of the slayer's prepotence, casts a glamour of worth over every act of slaughter and over all the tools and accessories of the act. Arms are honourable, and the use of them, even in seeking the life of the meanest creatures of the fields, becomes a honorific employment. At the same time, employment in industry becomes correspondingly odious, and, in the common-sense apprehension, the handling of the tools and implements of industry falls beneath the dignity of able-bodied men. Labour becomes irksome.

It is here assumed that in the sequence of cultural evolution primitive groups of men have passed from an initial peaceable stage to a subsequent stage at which fighting is the avowed and characteristic employment of the group. But it is not implied that there has been an abrupt transition from unbroken peace and good-will to a later or higher phase of life in which the fact of combat occurs for the first time. Neither is it implied that all peaceful industry disappears on the transition to the predatory phase of culture. Some fighting, it is safe to say, would be met with at any early stage of social development. Fights would occur with more or less frequency through sexual competition. The known habits of primitive groups, as well as the habits of the anthropoid apes, argue to that effect, and the evidence from the well-known promptings of human nature enforces the same view.

It may therefore be objected that there can have been no such initial stage of peaceable life as is here assumed. There is no point in cultural evolution prior to which fighting does not occur. But the point in question is not as to the occurrence of combat, occasional or sporadic, or even more or less frequent and habitual; it is a question as to the occurrence of an habitual bellicose frame of mind-a prevalent habit of judging facts and events from the point of view of the fight. The predatory phase of culture is attained only when the predatory attitude has become the habitual and accredited spiritual attitude for the members of the group; when the fight has become the dominant note in the current theory of life; when the common-sense appreciation of men and things has come to be an appreciation with a view to combat.

The substantial difference between the peaceable and the predatory phase of culture, therefore is a spiritual difference, not a mechanical one. The change in spiritual attitude is the outgrowth of a change in the material facts of the life of the group, and it comes on gradually as the material circumstances favourable to a predatory attitude supervene. The inferior limit of the predatory culture is an industrial limit. Predation cannot become the habitual, conventional resource of any group or any class until industrial methods have been developed to such a degree of efficiency as to leave a margin worth fighting for, above the subsistence of those engaged in getting a living. The transition from peace to predation therefore depends on the growth of technical knowledge and the use of tools. A predatory culture is similarly impracticable in early times, until weapons have been developed to such a point as to make man a formidable animal. The early development of tools and of weapons is of course the same fact seen from two different points of view.

The life of a given group would be characterised as peaceable so long as habitual recourse to combat has not brought the fight into the foreground in men's everyday thoughts, as a dominant feature of the life of man. A group may evidently attain such a predatory attitude with a greater or less degree of completeness, so that its scheme of life and canons of conduct may be controlled to a greater or less extent by the predatory animus. The predatory phase of culture is therefore conceived to come on gradually, through a cumulative growth of predatory aptitudes, habits, and traditions; this growth being due to a change in the circumstances of the group's life, of such a kind as to develop and conserve those traits of human nature and those traditions and norms of conduct that make for a predatory rather than a peaceable life.

The evidence for the hypothesis that there has been such a peaceable stage of primitive culture is in great part drawn from psychology rather than from ethnology, and cannot be detailed here. It will be recited in part in a later chapter, in discussing the survival of archaic traits of human nature under the modem culture.

Conspicuous Leisure: Status and Servants

[The] term 'leisure', as here used, does not connote indolence or quiescence. What it connotes is nonproductive consumption of time. Time is consumed non-productively (1) from a sense of the unworthiness of productive work, and (2) as an evidence of pecuniary ability to afford a life of idleness. But the whole of the life of the gentleman of leisure is not spent before the eyes of the spectators who are to be impressed with that spectacle of honorific leisure which in the ideal scheme makes up his life. For some part of the time his life is perforce withdrawn from the public eye, and of this portion which is spent in private the gentleman of leisure should, for the sake of his good name, be able to give a convincing account. He should find some means of putting in evidence the leisure that is not spent in the sight of the spectators. This can be done only indirectly, through the exhibition of some tangible, lasting results of the leisure so spent-in a manner analogous to the familiar exhibition of tangible, lasting products of the labour performed for the gentleman of leisure by handicraftsmen and servants in his employ.

The lasting evidence of productive labour is its material product-commonly some article of consumption. In the case of exploit it is similarly possible and usual to procure some tangible result that may serve for exhibition in the way of trophy or booty. At a later phase of the development it is customary to assume some badge or insignia of honour that will serve as a conventionally accepted mark of exploit, and which at the same time indicates the quantity or degree of exploit of which it is the symbol. As the population increases in density, and as human relations grow more complex and numerous, all the details of life undergo a process of elaboration and selection; and in this process of elaboration the use of trophies develops into a system of rank, titles, degrees and insignia, typical examples of which are heraldic devices, medals, and honorary decorations.

As seen from the economic point of view, leisure, considered as an employment, is closely allied in kind with the life of exploit; and the achievements which characterise a life of leisure, and which remain as its decorous criteria, have much in common with the trophies of exploit. But leisure in the narrower sense, as distinct from exploit and from any ostensibly productive employment of effort on objects which are of no intrinsic use, does not commonly leave a material product. The criteria of a past performance of leisure therefore commonly take the form of 'immaterial' goods. Such immaterial evidences of past leisure are quasi-scholarly or quasi-artistic accomplishments and a knowledge of processes and incidents which do not conduce directly to the furtherance of human life. So, for instance, in our time there is the knowledge of the dead languages and the occult sciences; of correct spelling; of syntax and prosody; of the various forms of domestic music and other household art; of the latest proprieties of dress, furniture, and equipage; of games, sports, and fancybred animals, such as dogs and race-horses. In all these branches of knowledge the initial motive from which their acquisition proceeded at the outset, and through which they first came into vogue, may have been something quite different from the wish to show that one's time had not been spent in industrial employment; but unless these accomplishments had approved themselves as serviceable evidence of an unproductive expenditure of time, they would not have survived and held their place as conventional accomplishments of the leisure class.

These accomplishments may, in some sense, be classed as branches of learning. Beside and beyond these there is a further range of social facts which shade off from the region of learning into that of physical habit and dexterity. Such are what is known as manners and breeding, polite usage, decorum, and formal and ceremonial observances generally. This class of facts are even more immediately and obtrusively presented to the observation, and they are therefore more widely and more imperatively insisted on as required evidences of a reputable degree of leisure. It is worth while to remark that all that class of ceremonial observances which are classed under the general head of manners hold a more important place in the esteem of men during the stage of culture at which conspicuous leisure has the greatest vogue as a mark of reputability, than at later stages of the cultural development. The barbarian of the quasi- peaceable stage of industry is notoriously a more highbred gentleman, in all that concerns decorum, than any but the very exquisite among the men of a later age. Indeed, it is well known, or at least it is currently believed, that manners have progressively deteriorated as society has receded from the patriarchal stage. Many a gentleman of the old school has been provoked to remark regretfully upon the under-bred manners and beating of even the better classes in the modem industrial communities; and the decay of the ceremonial code-or as it is otherwise called, the vulgarisation of life-among the industrial classes proper has become one of the chief enormities of latter-day civilisation in the eyes of all persons of delicate sensibilities. The decay which the code has suffered at the hands of a busy people testifies-all deprecation apart-to the fact that decorum is a product and an exponent of leisure-class life and thrives in full measure only under a régime of status.

The origin, or better the derivation, of manners is, no doubt, to be sought elsewhere than in a conscious effort on the part of the well-mannered to show that much time has been spent in acquiring them. The proximate end of innovation and elaboration has been the higher effectiveness of the new departure in point of beauty or of expressiveness. In great part the ceremonial code of decorous usages owes its beginning and its growth to the desire to conciliate or to show goodwill, as anthropologists and sociologists are in the habit of assuming, and this initial motive is rarely if ever absent from the conduct of well-mannered persons at any stage of the later development. Manners, we are told, are in part an elaboration of gesture, and in part they are symbolical and conventionalised survivals representing former acts of dominance or of personal service or of personal contact. In large part they are an expression of the relation of status-a symbolic pantomime of mastery on the one hand and of subservience on the other. Wherever at the present time the predatory habit of mind, and the consequent attitude of mastery and of subservience, gives its character to the accredited scheme of life, there the importance of all punctilios of conduct is extreme, and the assiduity with which the ceremonial observance of rank and titles is attended to approaches closely to the ideal set by the barbarian of the quasi-peaceable nomadic culture. Some of the Continental countries afford good illustrations of this spiritual survival. In these communities the archaic ideal is similarly approached as regards the esteem accorded to manners as a fact of intrinsic worth.

Decorum set out with being symbol and pantomime and with having utility only as an exponent of the facts and qualities symbolised; but it presently suffered the transmutation which commonly passes over symbolical facts in human intercourse. Manners presently came, in popular apprehension, to be possessed of a substantial utility in themselves; they acquired a sacramental character, in great measure independent of the facts which they originally prefigured. Deviations from the code of decorum have become intrinsically odious to all men, and good breeding is, in everyday apprehension, not simply an adventitious mark of human excellence, but an integral feature of the worthy human soul. There are few things that so touch us with instinctive revulsion as a breach of decorum; and so far have we progressed in the direction of imputing intrinsic utility to the ceremonial observances of etiquette that few of us, if any, can dissociate an offence against etiquette from a sense of the substantial unworthiness of the offender. A breach of faith may be condoned, but a breach of decorum can not. 'Manners maketh man'.

None the less, while manners have this intrinsicutility, in the apprehension of the performer and the beholder alike, this sense of the intrinsic rightness of decorum is only the proximate ground of the vogue of manners and breeding. Their ulterior, economic ground is to be sought in the honorific character of that leisure or non-productive employment of time and effort without which good manners are not acquired. The knowledge and habit of good form come only by long-continued use. Refined tastes, manners, and habits of life are a useful evidence of gentility, because good breeding requires time, application, and expense, and can therefore not be compassed by those whose time and energy are taken up with work. A knowledge of good form is prima facie evidence that that portion of the well-bred person's life which is not spent under the observation of the spectator has been worthily spent in acquiring accomplishments that are of no lucrative effect. In the last analysis the value of manners lies in the fact that they are the voucher of a life of leisure. Therefore, conversely, since leisure is the conventional means of pecuniary repute, the acquisition of some proficiency in decorum is incumbent on all who aspire to a modicum of pecuniary decency.

So much of the honourable life of leisure as is not spent in the sight of spectators can serve the purposes of reputability only in so far as it leaves a tangible, visible result that can be put in evidence and can be measured and compared with products of the same class exhibited by competing aspirants for repute. Some such effect, in the way of leisurely manners and carriage, etc., follows from simple persistent abstention from work, even where the subject does not take thought of the matter and studiously acquire an air of leisurely opulence and mastery. Especially does it seem to be true that a life of leisure in this way persisted in through several generations will leave a persistent, ascertainable effect in the conformation of the person, and still more in his habitual bearing and demeanour. But all the suggestions of a cumulative life of leisure, and all the proficiency in decorum that comes by the way of passive habituation, may be further improved upon by taking thought and assiduously acquiring the marks of honourable leisure, and then carrying the exhibition of these adventitious marks of exemption from employment out in a strenuous and systematic discipline. Plainly, this is a point at which a diligent application of effort and expenditure may materially further the attainment of a decent proficiency in the leisure-class proprieties. Conversely, the greater the degree of proficiency and the more patent the evidence of a high degree of habituation to observances which serve no lucrative or other directly useful purpose, the greater the consumption of time and substance impliedly involved in their acquisition, and the greater the resultant good repute. Hence, under the competitive struggle for proficiency in good manners, it comes about that much pains is taken with the cultivation of habits of decorum; and hence the details of decorum develop into a comprehensive discipline, conformity to which is required of all who would be held blameless in point of repute. And hence, on the other hand, this conspicuous leisure of which decorum is a ramification grows gradually into a laborious drill in deportment and an education in taste and discrimination as to what articles of consumption are decorous and what are the decorous methods of consuming them.

In this connection it is worthy of notice that the possibility of producing pathological and other idiosyncrasies of person and manner by shrewd mimicry and a systematic drill have been turned to account in the deliberate production of a cultured class-often with a very happy effect. In this way, by the process vulgarly known as snobbery, a syncopated evolution of gentle birth and breeding is achieved in the case of a goodly number of families and lines of descent. This syncopated gentle birth gives results which, in point of serviceability as a leisure-class factor in the population, are in no wise substantially inferior to others who may have had a longer but less arduous training in the pecuniary proprieties.

There are, moreover, measureable degrees of conformity to the latest accredited code of the punctilios as regards decorous means and methods of consumption. Differences between one person and another in the degree of conformity to the ideal in these respects can be compared, and persons may be graded and scheduled with some accuracy and effect according to a progressive scale of manners and breeding. The award of reputability in this regard is commonly made in good faith, on the ground of conformity to accepted canons of taste in the matters concerned, and without conscious regard to the pecuniary standing or the degree of leisure practised by any given candidate for reputability; but the canons of taste according to which the award is made are constantly under the surveillance of the law of conspicuous leisure, and are indeed constantly undergoing change and revision to bring them into closer conformity with its requirements. So that while the proximate ground of discrimination may be of another kind, still the pervading principle and abiding test of good breeding is the requirement of a substantial and patent waste of time. There may be some considerable range of variation in detail within the scope of this principle, but they are variations of form and expression, not of substance.

Much of the courtesy of everyday intercourse is of course a direct expression of consideration and kindly good-will, and this element of conduct has for the most part no need of being traced back to any underlying ground of reputability to explain either its presence or the approval with which it is regarded; but the same is not true of the code of proprieties. These latter are expressions of status. It is of course sufficiently plain, to any one who cares to see, that our bearing towards menials and other pecuniarily dependent inferiors is the bearing of the superior member in a relation of status, though its manifestation is often greatly modified and softened from the original expression of crude dominance. Similarly, our bearing towards superiors, and in great measure towards equals, expresses a more or less conventionalised attitude of subservience. Witness the masterful presence of the high-minded gentleman or lady, which testifies to so much of dominance and independence of economic circumstances, and which at the same time appeals with such convincing force to our sense of what is right and gracious. It is among this highest leisure class, who have no superiors and few peers, that decorum finds its fullest and maturest expression; and it is this highest class also that gives decorum that definitive formulation which serves as a canon of conduct for the classes beneath. And here also the code is most obviously a code of status and shows most plainly its incompatibility with all vulgarly productive work. A divine assurance and an imperious complaisance, as of one habituated to require subservience and to take no thought for the morrow, is the birthright and the criterion of the gentleman at his best; and it is in popular apprehension even more than that, for this demeanour is accepted as an intrinsic attribute of superior worth, before which the base-born commoner delights to stoop and yield.

As has been indicated in an earlier chapter, there is reason to believe that the institution of ownership has begun with the ownership of persons, primarily women. The incentives to acquiring such property have apparently been: (1) a propensity for dominance and coercion; (2) the utility of these persons as evidence of the prowess of their owner; (3) the utility of their services.

Personal service holds a peculiar place in the economic development. During the stage of quasi-peaceable industry, and especially during the earlier development of industry within the limits of this general stage, the utility of their services seems commonly to be the dominant motive to the acquisition of property in persons. Servants are valued for their services. But the dominance of this motive is not due to a decline in the absolute importance of the other two utilities possessed by servants. It is rather that the altered circumstances of life accentuate the utility of servants for this last-named purpose. Women and other slaves are highly valued, both as an evidence of wealth and as a means of accumulating wealth. Together with cattle, if the tribe is a pastoral one, they are the usual form of investment for a profit. To such an extent may female slavery give its character to the economic life under the quasi-peaceable culture that the woman even comes to serve as a unit of value among peoples occupying this cultural stage-as for instance in Homeric times. Where this is the case there need be little question but that the basis of the industrial system is chattel slavery and that the women are commonly slaves. The great, pervading human relation in such a system is that of master and servant. The accepted evidence of wealth is the possession of many women, and presently also of other slaves engaged in attendance on their master's person and in producing goods for him.

A division of labour presently sets in, whereby personal service and attendance on the master becomes the special office of a portion of the servants, while those who are wholly employed in industrial occupations proper are removed more and more from all immediate relation to the person of their owner. At the same time those servants whose office is personal service, including domestic duties, come gradually to be exempted from productive industry carried on for gain.

This process of progressive exemption from the common run of industrial employment will commonly begin with the exemption of the wife, or the chief wife. After the community has advanced to settled habits of life, wife-capture from hostile tribes becomes impracticable as a customary source of supply. Where this cultural advance has been achieved, the chief wife is ordinarily of gentle blood, and the fact of her being so will hasten her exemption from vulgar employment. The manner in which the concept of gentle blood originates, as well as the place which it occupies in the development of marriage, cannot be discussed in this place. For the purpose in hand it will be sufficient to say that gentle blood is blood which has been ennobled by protracted contact with accumulated wealth or unbroken prerogative. The woman with these antecedents is preferred in marriage, both for the sake of a resulting alliance with her powerful relatives and because a superior worth is felt to inhere in blood which has been associated with many goods and great power. She will still be her husband's chattel, as she was her father's chattel before her purchase, but she is at the same time of her father's gentle blood; and hence there is a moral incongruity in her occupying herself with the debasing employments of her fellow-servants. However completely she may be subject to her master, and however inferior to the male members of the social stratum in which her birth has placed her, the principle that gentility is transmissible will act to place her above the common slave; and so soon as this principle has acquired a prescriptive authority it will act to invest her in some measure with that prerogative of leisure which is the chief mark of gentility. Furthered by this principle of transmissible gentility the wife's exemption gains in scope, if the wealth of her owner permits it, until it includes exemption from debasing menial service as well as from handicraft. As the industrial development goes on and property becomes massed in relatively fewer hands, the conventional standard of wealth of the upper class rises. The same tendency to exemption from handicraft, and in the course of time from menial domestic employments, will then assert itself as regards the other wives, if such there are, and also as regards other servants in immediate attendance upon the person of their master. The exemption comes more tardily the remoter the relation in which the servant stands to the person of the master.

If the pecuniary situation of the master permits it, the development of a special class of personal or body servants is also furthered by the very grave importance which comes to attach to this personal service. The master's person, being the embodiment of worth and honour, is of the most serious consequence. Both for his reputable standing in the community and for his selfrespect, it is a matter of moment that he should have at his call efficient specialised servants, whose attendance upon his person is not diverted from this their chief office by any by-occupation. These specialised servants are useful more for show than for service actually performed. In so far as they are not kept for exhibition simply, they afford gratification to their master chiefly in allowing scope to his propensity for dominance. It is true, the care of the continually increasing household apparatus may require added labour; but since the apparatus is commonly increased in order to serve as a means of good repute rather than as a means of comfort, this qualification is not of great weight. All these lines of utility are better served by a larger number of more highly specialised servants. There results, therefore, a constantly increasing differentiation and multiplication of domestic and body servants, along with a concomitant progressive exemption of such servants from productive labour. By virtue of their serving as evidence of ability to pay, the office of such domestics regularly tends to include continually fewer duties, and their service tends in the end to become nominal only. This is especially true of those servants who are in most immediate and obvious attendance upon their master. So that the utility of these comes to consist, in great part, in their conspicuous exemption from productive labour and in the evidence which this exemption affords of their master's wealth and power.

After some considerable advance has been made in the practice of employing a special corps of servants for the performance of a conspicuous leisure in this manner, men begin to be preferred above women for services that bring them obtrusively into view. Men, especially lusty, personable fellows, such as footmen and other menials should be, are obviously more powerful and more expensive than women. They are better fitted for this work, as showing a larger waste of time and of human energy. Hence it comes about that in the economy of the leisure class the busy housewife of the early patriarchal days, with her retinue of hard-working handmaidens, presently gives place to the lady and the lackey.

In all grades and walks of life, and at any stage of the economic development, the leisure of the lady and of the lackey differs from the leisure of the gentleman in his own right in that it is an occupation of an ostensibly laborious kind. It takes the form, in large measure, of a painstaking attention to the service of the master, or to the maintenance and elaboration of the household paraphernalia; so that it is leisure only in the sense that little or no productive work is performed by this class, not in the sense that all appearance of labour is avoided by them. The duties performed by the lady, or by the household or domestic servants, are frequently arduous enough, and they are also frequently directed to ends which are considered extremely necessary to the comfort of the entire household. So far as these services conduce to the physical efficiency or comfort of the master or the rest of the household, they are to be accounted productive work. Only the residue of employment left after deduction of this effective work is to be classed as a performance of leisure.

But much of the services classed as household cares in modem everyday life, and many of the 'utilities' required for a comfortable existence by civilised man, are of a ceremonial character. They are, therefore, properly to be classed as a performance of leisure in the sense in which the term is here used. They may be none the less imperatively necessary from the point of view of decent existence; they may be none the less requisite for personal comfort even, although they may be chiefly or wholly of a ceremonial character. But in so far as they partake of this character they are imperative and requisite because we have been taught to require them under pain of ceremonial uncleanness or unworthiness. We feel discomfort in their absence, but not because their absence results directly in physical discomfort; nor would a taste not trained to discriminate between the conventionally good and the conventionally bad take offence at their omission. In so far as this is true the labour spent in these services is to be classed as leisure; and when performed by others than the economically free and self-directing head of the establishment, they are to be classed as vicarious leisure.

The vicarious leisure performed by housewives and menials, under the head of household cares, may frequently develop into drudgery, especially where the competition for reputability is close and strenuous. This is frequently the case in modem life. Where this happens, the domestic service which comprises the duties of this servant class might aptly be designated as wasted effort, rather than as vicarious leisure. But the latter term has the advantage of indicating the line of derivation of these domestic offices, as well as of neatly suggesting the substantial economic ground of their utility; for these occupations are chiefly useful as a method of imputing pecuniary reputability to the master or to the household on the ground that a given amount of time and effort is conspicuously wasted in that behalf.

In this way, then, there arises a subsidiary or derivative leisure class, whose office is the performance of a vicarious leisure for the behoof of the reputability of the primary or legitimate leisure class. This vicarious leisure class is distinguished from the leisure class proper by a characteristic feature of its habitual mode of life. The leisure of the master class is, at least ostensibly, an indulgence of a proclivity for the avoidance of labour and is presumed to enhance the master's own well-being and fulness of life; but the leisure of the servant class exempt from productive labour is in some sort a performance exacted from them, and is not normally or primarily directed to their own comfort. The leisure of the servant is not his own leisure. So far as he is a servant in the full sense, and not at the same time a member of a lower order of the leisure class proper, his leisure normally passes under the guise of specialised service directed to the furtherance of his master's fulness of life. Evidence of this relation of subservience is obviously present in the servant's carriage and manner of life. The like is often true of the wife throughout the protracted economic stage during which she is still primarily a servant-that is to say, so long as the household with a male head remains in force. In order to satisfy the requirements of the leisure-class scheme of life, the servant should show not only an attitude of subservience, but also the effects of special training and practice in subservience. The servant or wife should not only perform certain offices and show a servile disposition, but it is quite as imperative that they should show an acquired facility in the tactics of subservience-a trained conformity to the canons of effectual and conspicuous subservience. Even to-day it is this aptitude and acquired skill in the formal manifestation of the servile relation that constitutes the chief element of utility in our highly paid servants, as well as one of the chief ornaments of the well-bred housewife.

The first requisite of a good servant is that he should conspicuously know his place. It is not enough that he knows how to effect certain desired mechanical results; he must, above all, know how to effect these results in due form. Domestic service might be said to be a spiritual rather than a mechanical function. Gradually there grows up an elaborate system of good form, specifically regulating the manner in which this vicarious leisure of the servant class is to be performed. Any departure from these canons of form is to be deprecated, not so much because it evinces a shortcoming in mechanical efficiency, or even that it shows an absence of the servile attitude and temperament, but because, in the last analysis, it shows the absence of special training. Special training in personal service costs time and effort, and where it is obviously present in a high degree, it argues that the servant who possesses it, neither is nor has been habitually engaged in any productive occupation. It is prima facie evidence of a vicarious leisure extending far back in the past. So that trained service has utility, not only as gratifying the master's instinctive liking for good and skilful workmanship and his propensity for conspicuous dominance over those whose lives are subservient to his own, but it has utility also as putting in evidence a much larger consumption of human service than would be shown by the mere present conspicuous leisure performed by an untrained person. It is a serious grievance if a gentleman's butler or footman performs his duties about his master's table or carriage in such unformed style as to suggest that his habitual occupation may be ploughing or sheepherding. Such bungling work would imply inability on the master's part to procure the service of specially trained servants; that is to say, it would imply inability to pay for the consumption of time, effort, and instruction required to fit a trained servant for special service under an exacting code of forms. If the performance of the servant argues lack of means on the part of his master, it defeats its chief substantial end; for the chief use of servants is the evidence they afford of the master's ability to pay.

What has just been said might be taken to imply that the offence of an under-trained servant lies in a direct suggestion of inexpensiveness or of usefulness. Such, of course, is not the case. The connection is much less immediate. What happens here is what happens generally. Whatever approves itself to us on any ground at the outset, presently comes to appeal to us as a gratifying thing in itself; it comes to rest in our habits of thought as substantially right. But in order that any specific canon of deportment shall maintain itself in favour, it must continue to have the support of, or at least not be incompatible with, the habit or aptitude which constitutes the norm of its development. The need of vicarious leisure, or conspicuous consumption of service, is a dominant incentive to the keeping of servants. So long as this remains true it may be set down without much discussion that any such departure from accepted usage as would suggest an abridged apprenticeship in service would presently be found insufferable. The requirement of an expensive vicarious leisure acts indirectly, selectively, by guiding the formation of our taste-of our sense of what is right in these matters-and so weeds out unconformable departures by withholding approval of them.

As the standard of wealth recognized by common consent advances, the possession and. exploitation of servants as a means of showing superfluity undergoes a refinement. The possession and maintenance of slaves employed in the production of goods argues wealth and prowess, but the maintenance of servants who produce nothing argues still higher wealth and position. Under this principle there arises a class of servants, the more numerous the better, whose sole office is fatuously to wait upon the person of their owner, and so to put in evidence his ability unproductively to consume a large amount of service. There supervenes a division of labour among the servants or dependents whose life is spent in maintaining the honour of the gentleman of leisure. So that, while one group produces goods for him, another group, usually headed by the wife, or chief wife, consumes for him in conspicuous leisure; thereby putting in evidence his ability to sustain large pecuniary damage without impairing his superior opulence.

This somewhat idealized and diagrammatic outline of the development and nature of domestic service comes nearest being true for that cultural stage which has here been named the 'quasi-peaceable' stage of industry. At this stage personal service first rises to the position of an economic institution, and it is at this stage that it occupies the largest place in the community's scheme of life. In the cultural sequence, the quasi-peaceable stage follows the predatory stage proper, the two being successive phases of barbarian life. Its characteristic feature is a formal observance of peace and order, at the same time that life at this stage still has too much of coercion and class antagonism to be called peaceable in the full sense of the word. For many purposes, and from another point of view than the economic one, it might as well be named the stage of status. The method of human relation during this stage, and the spiritual attitude of men at this level of culture, is well summed up under that term. But as a descriptive term to characterise the prevailing methods of industry, as well as to indicate the trend of industrial development at this point in economic evolution, the term 'quasi-peaceable' seems preferable. So far as concerns the communities of the Western culture, this phase of economic development probably lies in the past; except for a numerically small though very conspicuous fraction of the community in whom the habits of thought peculiar to the barbarian culture have suffered but a relatively slight disintegration.

Conspicuous Consumption: Women, Luxury Goods and Connoisseurship

In what has been said of the evolution of the vicarious leisure class and its differentiation from the general body of the working classes, reference has been made to a further division of labour-that between different servant classes. One portion of the servant class, chiefly those persons whose occupation is vicarious leisure, come to undertake a new, subsidiary range of duties-the vicarious consumption of goods. The most obvious form in which this consumption occurs is seen in the wearing of liveries and the occupation of spacious servants' quarters. Another, scarcely less obtrusive or less effective form of vicarious consumption, and a much more widely prevalent one, is the consumption of food, clothing, dwelling, and furniture by the lady and the rest of the domestic establishment.

But already at a point in economic evolution far antedating the emergence of the lady, specialised consumption of goods as an evidence of pecuniary strength had begun to work out in a more or less elaborate system. The beginning of a differentiation in consumption even antedates the appearance of anything that can fairly be called pecuniary strength. It is traceable back to the initial phase of predatory culture, and there is even a suggestion that an incipient differentiation in this respect lies back of the beginnings of the predatory life. This most primitive differentiation in the consumption of goods is like the later differentiation with which we are all so intimately familiar, in that it is largely of a ceremonial character, but unlike the latter it does not rest on a difference in accumulated wealth. The utility of consumption as an evidence of wealth is to be classed as a derivative growth. It is an adaptation to a new end, by a selective process, of a distinction previously existing and well established in men's habits of thought.

In the earlier phases of the predatory culture the only economic differentiation is a broad distinction between an honourable superior class made up of the able-bodied men on the one side, and a base inferior class of labouring women on the other. According to the ideal scheme of life in force at that time it is the office of the men to consume what the women produce. Such consumption as falls to the women is merely incidental to their work; it is a means to their continued labour, and not a consumption directed to their own comfort and fulness of life. Unproductive consumption of goods is honourable, primarily as a mark of prowess and a perquisite of human dignity; secondarily it becomes substantially honourable in itself, especially the consumption of the more desirable things. The consumption of choice articles of food, and frequently also of rare articles of adornment, becomes tabu to the women and children; and if there is a base (servile) class of men, the tabu holds also for them. With a further advance in culture this tabu may change into simple custom of a more or less rigorous character; but whatever be the theoretical basis of the distinction which is maintained, whether it be a tabu or a larger conventionality, the features of the conventional scheme of consumption do not change easily. When the quasipeaceable stage of industry is reached, with its fundamental institution of chattel slavery, the general principle, more or less rigorously applied, is that the base, industrious class should consume only what may be necessary to their subsistence. In the nature of things, luxuries and the comforts of life belong to the leisure class. Under the tabu, certain victuals, and more particularly certain beverages, are strictly reserved for the use of the superior class.

The ceremonial differentiation of the dietary is best seen in the use of intoxicating beverages and narcotics. If these articles of consumption are costly, they are felt to be noble and honorific. Therefore the base classes, primarily the women, practise an enforced continence with respect to these stimulants, except in countries where they are obtainable at a very low cost. From archaic times down through all the length of the patriarchal régime it has been the office of the women to prepare and administer these luxuries, and it has been the perquisite of the men of gentle birth and breeding to consume them. Drunkenness and the other pathological consequences of the free use of stimulants therefore tend in their turn to become honorific, as being a mark, at the second remove, of the superior status of those who are able to afford the indulgence. Infrmities induced by over-indulgence are among some peoples freely recognised as manly attributes. It has even happened that the name for certain diseased conditions of the body arising from such an origin has passed into everyday speech as a synonym for 'noble' or 'gentle'. It is only at a relatively early stage of culture that the symptoms of expensive vice are conventionally accepted as marks of a superior status, and so tend to become virtues and command the deference of the community; but the reputability that attaches to certain expensive vices long retains so much of its force as to appreciably lessen the disapprobation visited upon the men of the wealthy or noble class for any excessive indulgence. The same invidious distinction adds force to the current disapproval of any indulgence of this kind on the part of women, minors, and inferiors. This invidious traditional distinction has not lost its force even among the more advanced peoples of to-day. Where the example set by the leisure class retains its imperative force in the regulation of the conventionalities, it is observable that the women still in great measure practise the same traditional continence with regard to stimulants.

This characterisation of the greater continence in the use of stimulants practised by the women of the reputable classes may seem an excessive refinement of logic at the expense of common sense. But facts within easy reach of any one who cares to know them go to say that the greater abstinence of women is in some part due to an imperative conventionality; and this conventionality is, in a general way, strongest where the patriarchal tradition-the tradition that the woman is a chattel-has retained its hold in greatest vigour. In a sense which has been greatly qualified in scope and rigour, but which has by no means lost its meaning even yet; this tradition says that the woman, being a chattel, should consume only what is necessary to her sustenance-except so far as her further consumption contributes to the comfort or the good repute of her master. The consumption of luxuries, in the true sense, is a consumption directed to the comfort of the consumer himself, and is, therefore, a mark of the master. Any such consumption by others can take place only on a basis of sufferance. In communities where the popular habits of thought have been profoundly shaped by the patriarchal tradition we may accordingly look for survivals of the tabu on luxuries at least to the extent of a conventional deprecation of their use by the unfree and dependent class. This is more particularly true as regards certain luxuries, the use of which by the dependent class would detract sensibly from the comfort or pleasure of their masters, or which are held to be of doubtful legitimacy on other grounds. In the apprehen sionof the great conservative middle class of Western civilisation the use of these various stimulants is obnoxious to at least one, if not both, of these objections; and it is a fact too significant to be passed over that it is precisely among these middle classes of the Germanic culture, with their strong surviving sense of the patriarchal proprieties, that the women are to the greatest extent subject to a qualified tabu on narcotics and alcoholic beverages. With many qualifications-with more qualifications as the patriarchal tradition has gradually weakened-the general rule is felt to be fight and binding that women should consume only for the benefit of their masters. The objection of course presents itself that expenditure on women's dress and household paraphernalia is an obvious exception to this rule; but it will appear in the sequel that this exception is much more obvious than substantial.

During the earlier stages of economic development, consumption of goods without stint, especially consumption of the better grades of goods-ideally all consumption in excess of the subsistence minimum-pertains normally to the leisure class. This restriction tends to disappear, at least formally, after the later peaceable stage has been reached, with private ownership of goods and an industrial system based on wage labour or on the petty household economy. But during the earlier quasipeaceable stage, when so many of the traditions through which the institution of a leisure class has affected the economic life of later times were taking form and consistency, this principle has had the force of a conventional law. It has served as the norm to which consumption has tended to conform, and any appreciable departure from it is to be regarded as an aberrant form, sure to be eliminated sooner or later in the further course of development.

The quasi-peaceable gentleman of leisure, then, not only consumes of the staff of life beyond the minimum required for subsistence and physical efficiency, but his consumption also undergoes a specialisation as regards the quality of the goods consumed. He consumes freely and of the best, in food, drink, narcotics, shelter, services, ornaments, apparel, weapons and accoutrements, amusements, amulets, and idols or divinities. In the process of gradual amelioration which takes place in the articles of his consumption, the motive principle and the proximate aim of innovation is no doubt the higher efficiency of the improved and more elaborate products for personal comfort and well-being. But that does not remain the sole purpose of their consumption. The canon of reputability is at hand and seizes upon such innovations as are, according to its standard, fit to survive. Since the consumption of these more excellent goods is an evidence of wealth, it becomes honorific; and conversely, the failure to consume in due quantity and quality becomes a mark of inferiority and demerit.

This growth of punctilious discrimination as to qualitative excellence in eating, drinking, etc., presently affects not only the manner of life, but also the training and intellectual activity of the gentleman of leisure. He is no longer simply the successful, aggressive male-the man of strength, resource, and intrepidity. In order to avoid stultification he must also cultivate his tastes, for it now becomes incumbent on him to discriminate with some nicety between the noble and the ignoble in consumable goods. He becomes a connoisseur in creditable viands of various degrees of merit, in manly beverages and trinkets, in seemly apparel and architecture, in weapons, games, dancers, and the narcotics. This cultivation of the æsthetic faculty requires time and application, and the demands made upon the gentleman in this direction therefore tend to change his life of leisure into a more or less arduous application to the business of learning how to live a life of ostensible leisure in a becoming way. Closely related to the requirement that the gentleman must consume freely and of the right kind of goods, there is the requirement that he must know how to consume them in a seemly manner. His life of leisure must be conducted in due form. Hence arise good manners in the way pointed out in an earlier chapter. High-bred manners and ways of living are items of conformity to the norm of conspicuous leisure and conspicuous consumption.

Conspicuous consumption of valuable goods is a means of reputability to the gentleman of leisure. As wealth accumulates on his hands, his own unaided effort will not avail to sufficiently put his opulence in evidence by this method. The aid of friends and competitors is therefore brought in by resorting to the giving of valuable presents and expensive feasts and entertainments. Presents and feasts had probably another origin than that of naïve ostentation, but they acquired their utility for this purpose very early, and they have retained that character to the present; so that their utility in this respect has now long been the substantial ground on which these usages rest. Costly entertainments, such as the potlatch or the ball, are peculiarly adapted to serve this end. The competitor with whom the entertainer wishes to institute a comparison is, by this method, made to serve as a means to the end. He consumes vicariously for his host at the same time that he is a witness to the consumption of that excess of good things which his host is unable to dispose of single-handed, and he is also made to witness his host's facility in etiquette.

In the giving of costly entertainments other motives, of a more genial kind, are of course also present. The custom of festive gatherings probably originated in motives of conviviality and religion; these motives are also present in the later development, but they do not continue to be the sole motives. The latter-day leisureclass festivities and entertainments may continue in some slight degree to serve the religious need and in a higher degree the needs of recreation and conviviality, but they also serve an invidious purpose; and they serve it none the less effectually for having a colourable non-invidious ground in these more avowable motives. But the economic effect of these social amenities is not therefore lessened, either in the vicarious consumption of goods or in the exhibition of difficult and costly achievements in etiquette.

As wealth accumulates, the leisure class develops further in function and structure, and there arises a differentiation within the class. There is a more or less elaborate system of rank and grades. This differentiation is furthered by the inheritance of wealth and the consequent inheritance of gentility. With the inheritance of gentility goes the inheritance of obligatory leisure; and gentility of a sufficient potency to entail a life of leisure may be inherited without the complement of wealth required to maintain a dignified leisure. Gentle blood may be transmitted without goods enough to afford a reputably free consumption at one's ease. Hence results a class of impecunious gentlemen of leisure, incidentally referred to already. These half-caste gentlemen of leisure fall into a system of hierarchical gradations. Those who stand near the higher and the highest grades of the wealthy leisure class, in point of birth, or in point of wealth, or both, outrank the remoter-born and the pecuniarily weaker. These lower grades, especially the impecunious, or marginal, gentlemen of leisure, affiliate themselves by a system of dependence or fealty to the great ones; by so doing they gain an increment of repute, or of the means with which to lead a life of leisure, from their patron. They become his courtiers or retainers, servants; and being fed and countenanced by their patron they are indices of his rank and vicarious consumers of his superfluous wealth. Many of these affiliated gentlemen of leisure are at the same time lesser men of substance in their own right; so that some of them are scarcely at all, others only partially, to be rated as vicarious consumers. So many of them, however, as make up the retainers and hangers-on of the patron may be classed as vicarious consumers without qualification. Many of these again, and also many of the other aristocracy of less degree, have in turn attached to their persons a more or less comprehensive group of vicarious consumers in the persons of their wives and children, their servants, retainers, etc.

Throughout this graduated scheme of vicarious leisure and vicarious consumption the rule holds that these offices must be performed in some such manner, or under some such circumstance or insignia, as shall point plainly to the master to whom this leisure or consumption pertains, and to whom therefore the resulting increment of good repute of right inures. The consumption and leisure executed by these persons for their master or patron represents an investment on his part with a view to an increase of good fame. As regards feasts and largesses this is obvious enough, and the imputation of repute to the host or patron here takes place immediately, on the ground of common notoriety. Where leisure and consumption is performed vicariously by henchmen and retainers, imputation of the resulting repute to the patron is effected by their residing near his person so that it may be plain to all men from what source they draw. As the group whose good esteem is to be secured in this way grows larger, more patent means are required to indicate the imputation of merit for the leisure performed, and to this end uniforms, badges, and liveries come into vogue. The wearing of uniforms or liveries implies a considerable degree of dependence, and may even be said to be a mark of servitude, real or ostensible. The wearers of uniforms and liveries may be roughly divided into two classes-the free and the servile, or the noble and the ignoble. The services performed by them are likewise divisible into noble and ignoble. Of course the distinction is not observed with strict consistency in practice; the less debasing of the base services and the less honorific of the noble functions are not infrequently merged in the same person. But the general distinction is not on that account to be overlooked. What may add some perplexity is the fact that this fundamental distinction between noble and ignoble, which rests on the nature of the ostensible service performed, is traversed by a secondary distinction into honorific and humiliating, resting on the rank of the person for whom the service is performed or whose livery is worn. So, those offices which are by right the proper employment of the leisure class are noble; such are government, fighting, hunting, the care of arms and accoutrements, and the like-in short, those which may be classed as ostensibly predatory employments. On the other hand, those employments which properly fall to the industrious class are ignoble; such as handicraft or other productive labour, menial services, and the like. But a base service performed for a person of very high degree may become a very honorific office; as for instance the office of a Maid of Honour or of a Lady in Waiting to the Queen, or the King's Master of the Horse or his Keeper of the Hounds. The two offices last named suggest a principle of some general bearing. Whenever, as in these cases, the menial service in question has to do directly with the primary leisure employments of fighting and hunting, it easily acquires a reflected honorific character. In this way great honour may come to attach to an employment which in its own nature belongs to the baser sort.

In the later development of peaceable industry, the usage of employing an idle corps of uniformed menat-arms gradually lapses. Vicarious consumption by dependents bearing the insignia of their patron or master narrows down to a corps of liveried menials. In a heightened degree, therefore, the livery comes to be a badge of servitude, or rather of servility. Something of a honorific character always attached to the livery of the armed retainer, but this honorific character disappears when the livery becomes the exdusive badge of the menial. The livery becomes obnoxious to nearly all who are required to wear it. We are yet so little removed from a state of effective slavery as still to be fully sensitive to the sting of any imputation of servility. This antipathy asserts itself even in the case of the liveries or uniforms which some corporations prescribe as the distinctive dress of their employees. In this country the aversion even goes the length of discrediting-in a mild and uncertain way-those government employments, military and civil, which require the wearing of a livery or uniform.

With the disappearance of servitude, the number of vicarious consumers attached to any one gentleman tends, on the whole, to decrease. The like is of course true, and perhaps in a still higher degree, of the number of dependents who perform vicarious leisure for him. In a general way, though not wholly nor consistently, these two groups coincide. The dependent who was first delegated for these duties was the wife, or the chief wife; and, as would be expected, in the later development of the institution, when the number of persons by whom these duties are customarily performed gradually narrows, the wife remains the last. In the higher grades of society a large volume of both these kinds of service is required; and here the wife is of course still assisted in the work by a more or less numerous corps of menials. But as we descend the social scale, the point is presently reached where the duties of vicarious leisure and consumption devolve upon the wife alone. In the communities of the Western culture, this point is at present found among the lower middle class.

And here occurs a curious inversion. It is a fact of common observation that in this lower middle class there is no pretence of leisure on the part of the head of the household. Through force of circumstances it has fallen into disuse. But the middle-class wife still carries on the business of vicarious leisure, for the good name of the household and its master. In descending the social scale in any modem industrial community, the primary fact-the conspicuous leisure of the master of the house-hold-disappears at a relatively high point. The head of the middle-class household has been reduced by economic circumstances to turn his hand to gaining a livelihood by occupations which often partake largely of the character of industry, as in the case of the ordinary business man of to-day. But the derivative fact-the vicarious leisure and consumption rendered by the wife, and the auxiliary vicarious performance of leisure by menials-remains in vogue as a conventionality which the demands of reputability will not suffer to be slighted. It is by no means an uncommon spectacle to find a man applying himself to work with the utmost assiduity, in order that his wife may in due form render for him that degree of vicarious leisure which the common sense of the time demands.

The leisure rendered by the wife in such cases is, of course, not a simple manifestation of idleness or indolence. It almost invariably occurs disguised under some form of work or household duties or social amenities, which prove on analysis to serve little or no ulterior end beyond showing that she does not and need not occupy herself with anything that is gainful or that is of substantial use. As has already been noticed under the head of manners, the greater part of the customary round of domestic cares to which the middle-class housewife gives her time and effort is of this character. Not that the results of her attention to household matters, of a decorative and mundificatory character, are not pleasing to the sense of men trained in middleclass proprieties; but the taste to which these effects of household adornment and tidiness appeal is a taste which has been formed under the selective guidance of a canon of propriety that demands just these evidences of wasted effort. The effects are pleasing to us chiefly because we have been taught to find them pleasing. There goes into these domestic duties much solicitude for a proper combination of form and colour, and for other ends that are to be classed as æsthetic in the proper sense of the term; and it is not denied that effects having some substantial æsthetic value are sometimes attained. Pretty much all that is here insisted on is that, as regards these amenities of life, the housewife's efforts are under the guidance of traditions that have been shaped by the law of conspicuously wasteful expenditure of time and substance. If beauty or comfort is achieved-and it is a more or less fortuitous circumstance if they are-they must be achieved by means and methods that commend themselves to the great economic law of wasted effort. The more reputable, 'presentable' portion of middleclass household paraphernalia are, on the one hand, items of conspicuous consumption, and on the other hand, apparatus for putting in evidence the vicarious leisure rendered by the housewife.

The requirement of vicarious consumption at the hands of the wife continues in force even at a lower point in the pecuniary scale than the requirement of vicarious leisure. At a point below which little if any pretence of wasted effort, in ceremonial cleanness and the like, is observable, and where there is assuredly no conscious attempt at ostensible leisure, decency still requires the wife to consume some goods conspicuously for the reputability of the household and its head. So that, as the latter-day outcome of this evolution of an archaic institution, the wife, who was at the outset the drudge and chattel of the man, both in fact and in theory-the producer of goods for him to consume-has become the ceremonial consumer of goods which he produces. But she still quite unmistakably remains his chattel in theory; for the habitual rendering of vicarious leisure and consumption is the abiding mark of the unfree servant.

This vicarious consumption practised by the household of the middle and lower classes can not be counted as a direct expression of the leisure-class scheme of life, since the household of this pecuniary grade does not belong within the leisure class. It is rather that the leisure-class scheme of life here comes to an expression at the second remove. The leisure class stands at the head of the social structure in point of reputability; and its manner of life and its standards of worth therefore afford the norm of reputability for the community. The observance of these standards, in some degree of approximation, becomes incumbent upon all classes lower in the scale. In modem civilized communities the lines of demarcation between social classes have grown vague and transient, and wherever this happens the norm of reputability imposed by the upper class extends its coercive influence with but slight hindrance down through the social structure to the lowest strata. The result is that the members of each stratum accept as their ideal of decency the scheme of life in vogue in the next higher stratum, and bend their energies to live up to that ideal. On pain of forfeiting their good name and their self-respect in case of failure, they must conform to the accepted code, at least in appearance.

The basis on which good repute in any highly organised industrial community ultimately rests is pecuniary strength; and the means of showing pecuniary strength, and so of gaining or retaining a good name, are leisure and a conspicuous consumption of goods. Accordingly, both of these methods are in vogue as far down the scale as it remains possible; and in the lower strata in which the two methods are employed, both offices are in great part delegated to the wife and children of the household. Lower still, where any degree of leisure, even ostensible, has become impracticable for the wife, the conspicuous consumption of goods remains and is carried on by the wife and children. The man of the household also can do something in this direction, and, indeed, he commonly does; but with a still lower descent into the levels of indigence-along the margin of the slums-the man, and presently also the children, virtually cease to consume valuable goods for appearances, and the woman remains virtually the sole exponent of the household's pecuniary decency. No class of society, not even the most abjectly poor, foregoes all customary conspicuous consumption. The last items of this category of consumption are not given up except under stress of the direst necessity. Very much of squalor and discomfort will be endured before the last trinket or the last pretence of pecuniary decency is put away. There is no class and no country that has yielded so abjectly before the pressure of physical want as to deny themselves all gratification of this higher or spiritual need.

Canons of Taste: Greenery and Pets

Everyday life affords many curious illustrations of the way in which the code of pecuniary beauty in articles of use varies from class to class, as well as of the way in which the conventional sense of beauty departs in its deliverances from the sense untutored by the requirements of pecuniary repute. Such a fact is the lawn, or the close-cropped yard or park, which appeals so unaffectedly to the taste of the Western peoples. It appears especially to appeal to the tastes of the well-to-do classes in those communities in which the dolicho-blond element predominates in an appreciable degree. The lawn unquestionably has an element of sensuous beauty, simply as an object of apperception, and as such no doubt it appeals pretty directly to the eye of nearly all races and all classes; but it is, perhaps, more unquestionably beautiful to the eye of the dolicho-blond than to most other varieties of men. This higher appreciation of a stretch of greensward in this ethnic element than in the other elements of the population, goes along with certain other features of the dolicho-blond temperament that indicate that this racial element has once been for a long time a pastoral people inhabiting a region with a humid climate. The close-cropped lawn is beautiful in the eyes of a people whose inherited bent it is to readily find pleasure in contemplating a well-preserved pasture or grazing land.

For the æsthetic purpose the lawn is a cow pasture; and in some cases to-day-where the expensiveness of the attendant circumstances bars out any imputation of thrift-the idyl of the dolicho-blond is rehabilitated in the introduction of a cow into a lawn or private ground. In such cases the cow made use of is commonly of an expensive breed. The vulgar suggestion of thrift, which is nearly inseparable from the cow, is a standing objection to the decorative use of this animal. So that in all cases, except where luxurious surroundings negative this suggestion, the use of the cow as an object of taste must be avoided. Where the predilection for some grazing animal to fill out the suggestion of the pasture is too strong to be suppressed, the cow's place is often given to some more or less inadequate substitute, such as deer, antelopes, or some such exotic beast. These substitutes, although less beautiful to the pastoral eye of Western man than the cow, are in such cases preferred because of their superior expensiveness or futility, and their consequent repute. They are not vulgarly lucrative either in fact or in suggestion.

Public parks of course fall in the same category with the lawn; they too, at their best, are imitations of the pasture. Such a park is of course best kept by grazing, and the cattle on the grass are themselves no mean addition to the beauty of the thing, as need scarcely be insisted on with any one who has once seen a wellkept pasture. But it is worth noting, as an expression of the pecuniary element in popular taste, that such a method of keeping public grounds is seldom resorted to. The best that is done by skilled workmen under the supervision of a trained keeper is a more or less close imitation of a pasture, but the result invariably falls somewhat short of the artistic effect of grazing. But to the average popular apprehension a herd of cattle so pointedly suggests thrift and usefulness that their presence in the public pleasure ground would be intolerably cheap. This method of keeping grounds is comparatively inexpensive, therefore it is indecorous.

Of the same general bearing is another feature of public grounds. There is a studious exhibition of expensiveness coupled with a make-believe of simplicity and crude serviceability. Private grounds also show the same physiognomy wherever they are in the management or ownership of persons whose tastes have been formed under middle-class habits of life or under the upperclass traditions of no later a date than the childhood of the generation that is now passing. Grounds which conform to the instructed tastes of the latter-day upper class do not show these features in so marked a degree. The reason for this difference in tastes between the past and the incoming generation of the well-bred lies in the changing economic situation. A similar difference is perceptible in other respects, as well as in the accepted ideals of pleasure grounds. In this country as in most others, until the last half century but a very small proportion of the population were possessed of such wealth as would exempt them from thrift. Owing to imperfect means of communication, this small fraction were scattered and out of effective touch with one another. There was therefore no basis for a growth of taste in disregard of expensiveness. The revolt of the well-bred taste against vulgar thrift was unchecked. Wherever the unsophisticated sense of beauty might show itself sporadically in an approval of inexpensive or thrifty surroundings, it would lack the 'social confrmafion' which nothing but a considerable body of like-minded people can give. There was, therefore, no effective upper-class opinion that would overlook evidences of possible inexpensiveness in the management of grounds; and there was consequently no appreciable divergence between the leisure-class and the lower middle-class ideal in the physiognomy of pleasure grounds. Both classes equally constructed their ideals with the fear of pecuniary disrepute before their eyes.

To-day a divergence in ideals is beginning to be apparent. The portion of the leisure class that has been consistently exempt from work and from pecuniary cares for a generation or more is now large enough to form and sustain an opinion in matters of taste. Increased mobility of the members has also added to the facility with which a 'social confirmation' can be attained within the class. Within this select class the exemption from thrift is a matter so commonplace as to have lost much of its utility as a basis of pecuniary decency. Therefore the latter-day upper-class canons of taste do not so consistently insist on an unremitting demonstration of expensiveness and a strict exclusion of the appearance of thrift. So, a predilection for the rustic and the 'natural' in parks and grounds makes its appearance on these higher social and intellectual levels. This predilection is in large part an outcropping of the instinct of workmanship; and it works out its results with varying degrees of consistency. It is seldom altogether unaffected, and at times it shades off into something not widely different from that makebelieve of rusticity which has been referred to above.

A weakness for crudely serviceable contrivances that pointedly suggest immediate and wasteless use is present even in the middle-class tastes; but it is there kept well in hand under the unbroken dominance of the canon of reputable futility. Consequently it works out in a variety of ways and means for shamming serviceability-in such contrivances as rustic fences, bridges, bowers, pavilions, and the like decorative features. An expression of this affectation of serviceability, at what is Perhaps its widest divergence from the first promptings of the sense of economic beauty, is afforded by the cast-iron rustic fence and trellis or by a circuitous drive laid across level ground.

The select leisure class has outgrown the use of these pseudo-serviceable variants of pecuniary beauty, at least at some points. But the taste of the more recent accessions to the leisure class proper and of the middle and lower classes still requires a pecuniary beauty to supplement the æsthetic beauty, even in those objects which are primarily admired for the beauty that belongs to them as natural growths.

The popular taste in these matters is to be seen in the prevalent high appreciation of topiary work and of the conventional flower-beds of public grounds. Perhaps as happy an illustration as may be had of this dominance of pecuniary beauty over æsthetic beauty in middle- class tastes is seen in the reconstruction of the grounds lately occupied by the Columbian Exposition. The evidence goes to show that the requirement of reputable expensiveness is still present in good vigour even where all ostensibly lavish display is avoided. The artistic effects actually wrought in this work of reconstruction diverge somewhat widely from the effect to which the same ground would have lent itself in hands not guided by pecuniary canons of taste. And even the better class of the city's population view the progress of the work with an unreserved approval which suggests that there is in this case little if any discrepancy between the tastes of the upper and the lower or middle classes of the city. The sense of beauty in the population of this representative city of the advanced pecuniary culture is very chary of any departure from its great cultural principle of conspicuous waste.

The love of nature, perhaps itself borrowed from a higher-class code of taste, sometimes expresses itself in unexpected ways under the guidance of this canon of pecuniary beauty, and leads to results that may seem incongruous to an unreflecting beholder. The wellaccepted practice of planting trees in the treeless areas of this country, for instance, has been carried over as an item of honorific expenditure into the heavily wooded areas; so that it is by no means unusual for a village or a farmer in the wooded country to dear the land of its native trees and immediately replant saplings of certain introduced varieties about the farmyard or along the streets. In this way a forest growth of oak, elm, beech, butternut, hemlock, basswood, and birch is cleared off to give room for saplings of soft maple, cottonwood, and brittle willow. It is felt that the inexpensiveness of leaving the forest trees standing would derogate from the dignity that should invest an article which is intended to serve a decorative and honorific end.

The like pervading guidance of taste by pecuniary repute is traceable in the prevalent standards of beauty in animals. The part played by this canon of taste in assigning her place in the popular æsthetic scale to the cow has already been spoken of. Something to the same effect is true of the other domestic animals, so far as they are in an appreciable degree industrially useful to the community-as, for instance, barnyard fowl, hogs, cattle, sheep, goats, draught-horses. They are of the nature of productive goods, and serve a useful, often a lucrative end; therefore beauty is not readily imputed to them. The case is different with those domestic animals which ordinarily serve no industrial end; such as pigeons, parrots and other cage-birds, cats, dogs, and fast horses. These commonly are items of conspicuous consumption, and are therefore honorific in their nature and may legitimately be accounted beautiful. This class of animals are conventionally admired by the body of the upper classes, while the pecuniarily lower classes-and that select minority of the leisure class among whom the rigorous canon that abjures thrift is in a measure obsolescent-find beauty in one class of animals as in another, without drawing a hard and fast line of pecuniary demarcation between the beautiful and the ugly.

In the case of those domestic animals which are honorific and are reputed beautiful, there is a subsidiary basis of merit that should be spoken of. Apart from the birds which belong in the honorific class of domestic animals, and which owe their place in this class to their non-lucrative character alone, the animals which merit particular attention are cats, dogs, and fast horses. The cat is less reputable than the other two just named, because she is less wasteful; she may even serve a useful end. At the same time the cat's temperament does not fit her for the honorific purpose. She lives with man on terms of equality, knows nothing of that relation of status which is the ancient basis of all distinctions of worth, honour, and repute, and she does not lend herself with facility to an invidious comparison between her owner and his neighbours. The exception to this last rule occurs in the case of such scarce and fanciful products as the Angora cat, which have some slight honorific value on the ground of expensiveness, and have, therefore, some special claim to beauty on pecuniary grounds.

The dog has advantages in the way of uselessness as well as in special gifts of temperament. He is often spoken of, in an eminent sense, as the friend of man, and his intelligence and fidelity are praised. The meaning of this is that the dog is man's servant and that he has the gift of an unquestioning subservience and a slave's quickness in guessing his master's mood. Coupled with these traits, which fit him well for the relation of status-and which must for the present purpose be set down as serviceable traits-the dog has some characteristics which are of a more equivocal æsthetic value. He is the filthiest of the domestic animals in his person and the nastiest in his habits. For this he makes up in a servile, fawning attitude towards his master, and a readiness to inflict damage and discomfort on all else. The dog, then, commends himself to our favour by affording play to our propensity for mastery, and as he is also an item of expense, and commonly serves no industrial purpose, he holds a well-assured place in men's regard as a thing of good repute. The dog is at the same time associated in our imagination with the chase-a meritorious employ-ment and an expression of the honourable predatory impulse.

Standing on this vantage ground, whatever beauty of form and motion and whatever commendable mental traits he may possess are conventionally acknowledged and magnified. And even those varieties of the dog which have been bred into grotesque deformity by the dog-fancier are in good faith accounted beautiful by many. These varieties of dogs-and the like is true of other fancy-bred animals-are rated and graded inæsthetic value somewhat in proportion to the degree of grotesqueness and instability of the particular fashion which the deformity takes in the given case. For the purpose in hand, this differential utility on the ground of grotesqueness and instability of structure is reducible to terms of a greater scarcity and consequent expense. The commercial value of canine monstrosities, such as the prevailing styles of pet dogs both for men's and women's use, rests on their high cost of production, and their value to their owners lies chiefly in their utility as items of conspicuous consumption. Indirectly, through reflection upon their honorific expensiveness, a social worth is imputed to them; and so, by an easy substitution of words and ideas, they come to be admired and reputed beautiful. Since any attention bestowed upon these animals is in no sense gainful or useful, it is also reputable; and since the habit of giving them attention is consequenfiy not deprecated, it may grow into an habitual attachment of great tenacity and of a most benevolent character. So that in the affection bestowed on pet animals the canon of expensiveness is present more or less remotely as a norm which guides and shapes the sentiment and the selection of its object. The like is true, as will be noticed presently, with respect to affection for persons also; although the manner in which the norm acts in that case is somewhat different.

The case of the fast horse is much like that of the dog. He is on the whole expensive, or wasteful and useless-for the industrial purpose. What productive use he may possess, in the way of enhancing the wellbeing of the community or making the way of life easier for men, takes the form of exhibitions of force and facility of motion that gratify the popular æsthetic sense. This is of course a substantial serviceability. The horse is not endowed with the spiritual aptitude for servile dependence in the same measure as the dog; but he ministers effectually to his master's impulse to convert the 'animate' forces of the environment to his own use and discretion and so express his own dominating individuality through them. The fast horse is at least potentially a race-horse, of high or low degree; and it is as such that he is peculiarly serviceable to his owner. The utility of the fast horse lies largely in his efficiency as a means of emulation; it gratifies the owner's sense of aggression and dominance to have his own horse outstrip his neighbour's. This use being not lucrative, but on the whole pretty consistently wasteful, and quite conspicuously so, it is honorific, and therefore gives the fast horse a strong presumptive position of reputability. Beyond this, the race horse proper has also a similarly non-industrial but honorific use as a gambling instrument.

The fast horse, then, is æsthetically fortunate, in that the canon of pecuniary good repute legitimates a free appreciation of whatever beauty or serviceability he may possess. His pretensions have the countenance of the principle of conspicuous waste and the backing of the predatory aptitude for dominance and emulation. The horse is, moreover, a beautiful animal, although the race-horse is so in no peculiar degree to the uninstructed taste of those persons who belong neither in the class of race-horse fanciers nor in the class whose sense of beauty is held in abeyance by the moral constraint of the horse fancier's award. To this untutored taste the most beautiful horse seems to be a form which has suffered less radical alteration than the race-horse under the breeder's selective development of the animal. Still, when a writer or speaker-especially of those whose eloquence is most consistently commonplace-wants an illustration of animal grace and serviceability, for rhetorical use, he habitually turns to the horse; and he commonly makes it plain before he is done that what he has in mind is the race-horse.

It should be noted that in the graduated appreciation of varieties of horses and of dogs, such as one meets with among people of even moderately cultivated tastes in these matters, there is also discernible another and more direct line of influence of the leisure-class canons of reputability. In this country, for instance, leisure-class tastes are to some extent shaped on usages and habits which prevail, or which are apprehended to prevail, among the leisure class of Great Britain. In dogs this is true to a less extent than in horses. In horses, more particularly in saddle horses-which at their best serve the purpose of wasteful display simply-it will hold true in a general way that a horse is more beautiful in proportion as he is more English; the English leisure class being, for purposes of reputable usage, the upper leisure class of this country, and so the exemplar for the lower grades. This mimicry in the methods of the apperception of beauty and in the forming of judgrnents of taste need not result in a spurious, or at any rate not a hypocritical or affected, predilection. The predilection is as serious and as substantial an award of taste when it rests on this basis as when it rests on any other; the difference is that this taste is a taste for the reputably correct, not for the æsthetically true.

The mimicry, it should be said, extends further than to the sense of beauty in horseflesh simply. It includes trappings and horsemanship as well, so that the correct or reputably beautiful seat or posture is also decided by English usage, as well as the equestrian gait. To show how fortuitous may sometimes be the circumstances which decide what shall be becoming and what not under the pecuniary canon of beauty, it may be noted that this English seat, and the peculiarly distressing gait which has made an awkward seat necessary, are a survival from the time when the English roads were so bad with mire and mud as to be virtually impassable for a horse travelling at a more comfortable gait; so that a person of decorous tastes in horsemanship to-day rides a punch with docked tail, in an uncomfortable posture and at a distressing gait, because the English roads during a great part of the last century were impassable for a horse travelling at a more horse-like gait, or for an animal built for moving with ease over the firm and open country to which the horse is indigenous.

Admission to the Leisure Class

The constituency of the leisure class is kept up by a continual selective process, whereby the individuals and lines of descent that are eminently fitted for an aggressive pecuniary competition are withdrawn from the lower classes. In order to reach the upper levels the aspirant must have, not only a fair average complement of the pecuniary aptitudes, but he must have these gifts in such an eminent degree as to overcome very material difficulties that stand in the way of his ascent. Barring accidents, the nouveaux arrivés are a picked body.

This process of selective admission has, of course, always been going on; ever since the fashion of pecuniary emulation set in-which is much the same as saying, ever since the institution of a leisure class was first installed. But the precise ground of selection has not always been the same, and the selective process has therefore not always given the same results. In the early barbarian, or predatory stage proper, the test of fitness was prowess, in the naïve sense of the word. To gain entrance to the class, the candidate must be gifted with clannishness, massiveness, ferocity, unscrupulousness, and tenacity of purpose. These were the qualities that counted toward the accumulation and continued tenure of wealth. The economic basis of the leisure class, then as later, was the possession of wealth; but the methods of accumulating wealth, and the gifts required for holding it, have changed in some degree since the early days of the predatory culture. In consequence of the selective process the dominant traits of the early barbarian leisure class were bold aggression, an alert sense of status, and a free resort to fraud. The members of the class held their place by tenure of prowess. In the later barbarian culture society attained settled methods of acquisition and possession under the quasi-peaceable régime of status. Simple aggression and unrestrained violence in great measure gave place to shrewd practise and chicanery, as the best approved method of accumulating wealth. A different range of aptitudes and propensities would then be conserved in the leisure class. Masterful aggression, and the correlative massiveness, together with a ruthlessly consistent sense of status, would still count among the most splendid traits of the class. These have remained in our traditions as the typical 'aristocratic virtues'. But with these were associated an increasing complement of the less obtrusive pecuniary virtues; such as providence, prudence, and chicane. As time has gone on, and the modem peaceable stage of pecuniary culture has been approached, the last-named range of aptitudes and habits has gained in relative effectiveness for pecuniary ends, and they have counted for relatively more in the selective process under which admission is gained and place is held in the leisure class.

The ground of selection has changed, until the aptitudes which now qualify for admission to the class are the pecuniary aptitudes only. What remains of the predatory barbarian traits is the tenacity of purpose or consistency of aim which distinguished the successful predatory barbarian from the peaceable savage whom he supplanted. But this trait can not be said characteristically to distinguish the pecuniarily successful upper-class man from the rank and file of the industrial classes. The training and the selection to which the latter are exposed in modem industrial life give a similarly decisive weight to this trait. Tenacity of purpose may rather be said to distinguish both these classes from two others: the shiftless ne'er-do-weel and the lower-class delinquent. In point of natural endowment the pecuniary man compares with the delinquent in much the same way as the industrial man compares with the good-natured shiftless dependent. The ideal pecuniary man is like the. ideal delinquent in his unscrupulous conversion of goods and persons to his own ends, and in a callous disregard of the feelings and wishes of others and of the remoter effects of his actions; but he is unlike him in possessing a keener sense of status, and in working more consistently and far-sightedly to a remoter end. The kinship of the two types of temperament is further shown in a proclivity to 'sport' and gambling, and a relish of aimless emulation. The ideal pecuniary man also shows a curious kinship with the delinquent in one of the concomitant variations of the predatory human nature. The delinquent is very commonly of a superstitious habit of mind; he is a great believer in luck, spells, divination and destiny, and in omens and shamanistic ceremony. Where circumstances are favourable, this proclivity is apt to express itself in a certain servile devotional fervour and a punctilious attention to devout observances; it may perhaps be better characterised as devoutness than as religion. At this point the temperament of the delinquent has more in common with the pecuniary and leisure classes than with the industrial man or with the class of shiftless dependents.

Survivals of Primitive Male Prowess: Fighting and Sports

The most immediate and unequivocal expression of that archaic human nature which characterises man in the predatory stage is the fighting propensity proper. In cases where the predatory activity is a collective one, this propensity is frequently called the martial spirit, or, latterly, patriotism. It needs no insistence to find assent to the proposition that in the countries of civilised Europe the hereditary leisure class is endowed with this martial spirit in a higher degree than the middle classes. Indeed, the leisure class claims the distinction as a matter of pride, and no doubt with some grounds. War is honourable, and warlike prowess is eminently honorific in the eyes of the generality of men; and this admiration of warlike prowess is itself the best voucher of a predatory temperament in the admirer of war. The enthusiasm for war, and the predatory temper of which it is the index, prevail in the largest measure among the upper classes, especially among the hereditary leisure class. Moreover, the ostensible serious occupation of the upper class is that of government, which, in point of origin and developmental content, is also a predatory occupation.

The only class which could at all dispute with the hereditary leisure class the honour of an habitual bellicose frame of mind is that of the lower-class delinquents. In ordinary times, the large body of the industrial classes is relatively apathetic touching warlike interests. When unexcited, this body of the common people, which makes up the effective force of the industrial community, is rather averse to any other than a defensive fight; indeed, it responds a little tardily even to a provocation which makes for an attitude of defence. In the more civilised communities, or rather in the communities which have reached an advanced industrial development, the spirit of warlike aggression may be said to be obsolescent among the common people. This does not say that there is not an appreciable number of individuals among the industrial classes in whom the martial spirit asserts itself obtrusively. Nor does it say that the body of the people may not be fired with martial ardour for a time under the stimulus of some special provocation, such as is seen in operation to-day in more than one of the countries of Europe, and for the time in America. But except for such seasons of temporary exaltation, and except for those individuals who are endowed with an archaic temperament of the predatory type, together with the similarly endowed body of individuals among the higher and the lowest classes, the inertness of the mass of any modem civilised community in this respect is probably so great as would make war impracticable, except against actual invasion. The habits and aptitudes of the common run of men make for an unfolding of activity in other, less picturesque directions than that of war.

This class difference in temperament may be due in part to a difference in the inheritance of acquired traits in the several classes, but it seems also, in some measure, to correspond with a difference in ethnic derivation. The class difference is in this respect visibly less in those countries whose population is relatively homogeneous, ethnically, than in the countries where there is a broader divergence between the ethnic elements that make up the several classes of the community. In the same connection it may be noted that the later accessions to the leisure class in the latter countries, in a general way, show less of the martial spirit than contemporary representatives of the aristocracy of the ancient line. These nouveaux arrives have recently emerged from the commonplace body of the population and owe their emergence into the leisure class to the exercise of traits and propensities which are not to be classed as prowess in the ancient sense.

Apart from warlike activity proper, the institution of the duel is also an expression of the same superior readiness for combat; and the duel is a leisure-class institution. The duel is in substance a more or less deliberate resort to a fight as a final settlement of a difference of opinion. In civilised communities it prevails as a normal phenomenon only where there is an hereditary leisure class, and almost exclusively among that class. The exceptions are (1) military and naval officers-who are ordinarily members of the leisure class, and who are at the same time specially trained to predatory habits of mind-and (2) the lower-class delinquents-who are by inheritance, or training, or both, of a similarly predatory disposition and habit. It is only the high-bred gentleman and the rowdy that normally resort to blows as the universal solvent of differences of opinion. The plain man will ordinarily fight only when excessive momentary irritation or alcoholic exaltation act to inhibit the more complex habits of response to the stimuli that make for provocation. He is then thrown back upon the simpler, less differentiated forms of the instinct of self-assertion; that is to say, he reverts temporarily and without reflection to an archaic habit of mind.

This institution of the duel as a mode of finally settling disputes and serious questions of precedence shades off into the obligatory, unprovoked private fight, as a social obligation due to one's good repute. As a leisure-class usage of this kind we have, particularly, that bizarre survival of bellicose chivalry, the German student duel. In the lower or spurious leisure class of the delinquents there is in all countries a similar, though less formal, social obligation incumbent on the rowdy to assert his manhood in unprovoked combat with his fellows. And spreading through all grades of society, a similar usage prevails among the boys of the community. The boy usually knows to a nicety, from day to day, how he and his associates grade in respect of relative fighting capacity; and in the community of boys there is ordinarily no secure basis of reputability for any one who, by exception, will not or can not fight on invitation.

All this applies especially to boys above a certain somewhat vague limit of maturity. The child's temperament does not commonly answer to this description during infancy and the years of close tutelage, when the child still habitually seeks contact with its mother at every turn of its daily life. During this earlier period there is little aggression and little propensity for antagonism. The transition from this peaceable temper to the predaceous, and in extreme cases malignant, mischievousness of the boy is a gradual one, and it is accomplished with more completeness, covering a larger range of the individual's aptitudes, in some cases than in others. In the earlier stage of his growth, the child, whether boy or girl, shows less of initiative and aggressive self-assertion and less of an inclination to isolate himself and his interests from the domestic group in which he lives, and he shows more of sensitiveness to rebuke, bashfulness, timidity, and the need of friendly human contact. In the common run of cases this early temperament passes, by a gradual but somewhat rapid obsolescence of the infantile features, into the temperament of the boy proper; though there are also cases where the predaceous features of boy life do not emerge at all, or at the most emerge in but a slight and obscure degree.

In girls the transition to the predaceous stage is seldom accomplished with the same degree of completeness as in boys; and in a relatively large proportion of cases it is scarcely undergone at all. In such cases the transition from infancy to adolescence and maturity is a gradual and unbroken process of the shifting of interest from infantile purposes and aptitudes to the purposes, functions, and relations of adult life. In the gifts there is a less general prevalence of a predaceous interval in the development; and in the cases where it occurs, the predaceous and isolating attitude during the interval is commonly less accentuated.

In the male child the predaceous interval is ordinarily fairly well marked and lasts for some time, but it is commonly terminated (if at all) with the attainment of maturity. This last statement may need very material qualification. The cases are by no means rare in which the transition from the boyish to the adult temperament is not made, or is made only partially-understanding by the 'adult' temperament the average temperament of those adult individuals in modem industrial life who have some serviceability for the purposes of the collective life process, and who may therefore be said to make up the effective average of the industrial community.

The ethnic composition of the European populations varies. In some cases even the lower classes are in large measure made up of the peace-disturbing dolichoblond; while in others this ethnic element is found chiefly among the hereditary leisure class. The fighting habit seems to prevail to a less extent among the working-class boys in the latter class of populations than among the boys of the upper classes or among those of the populations first named.

If this generalisation as to the temperament of the boy among the working classes should be found true on a fuller and closer scrutiny of the field, it would add force to the view that the bellicose temperament is in some appreciable degree a race characteristic; it appears to enter more largely into the make-up of the dominant, upper-class ethnic type-the dolicho-blond-of the European countries than into the subservient, lowerclass types of man which are conceived to constitute the body of the population of the same communities.

The case of the boy may seem not to bear seriously on the question of the relative endowment of prowess with which the several classes of society are gifted; but it is at least of some value as going to show that this fighting impulse belongs to a more archaic temperament than that possessed by the average adult man of the industrious classes. In this, as in many other features of child life, the child reproduces, temporarily and in miniature, some of the earlier phases of the development of adult man. Under this interpretation, the boy's predilection for exploit and for isolation of his own interest is to be taken as a transient reversion to the human nature that is normal to the early barbarian culture-the predatory culture proper. In this respect, as in much else, the leisure-class and the delinquentclass character shows a persistence into adult life of traits that are normal to childhood and youth, and that are likewise normal or habitual to the earlier stages of culture. Unless the difference is traceable entirely to a fundamental difference between persistent ethnic types, the traits that distinguish the swaggering delinquent and the punctilious gentleman of leisure from the common crowd are, in some measure, marks of an arrested spiritual development. They mark an immature phase, as compared with the stage of development attained by the average of the adults in the modem industrial community. And it will appear presently that the puerile spiritual make-up of these representatives of the upper and the lowest social strata shows itself also in the presence of other archaic traits than this proclivity to ferocious exploit and isolation.

As if to leave no doubt about the essential immaturity of the fighting temperament, we have, bridging the interval between legitimate boyhood and adult man-hood, the aimless and playful, but more or less systematic and elaborate, disturbances of the peace in vogue among schoolboys of a slightly higher age. In the common run of cases, these disturbances are confined to the period of adolescence. They recur with decreasing frequency and acuteness as youth merges into adult life, and so they reproduce, in a general way, in the life of the individual, the sequence by which the group has passed from the predatory to a more settled habit of life. In an appreciable number of cases the spiritual growth of the individual comes to a close before he emerges from this puerile phase; in these cases the fighting temper persists through life. Those individuals who in spiritual development eventually reach man's estate, therefore, ordinarily pass through a temporary archaic phase corresponding to the permanent spiritual level of the fighting and sporting men. Different individuals will, of course, achieve spiritual maturity and sobriety in this respect in different degrees; and those who fail of the average remain as an undissolved residue of crude humanity in the modern industrial community and as a foil for that selective process of adaptation which makes for a heightened industrial efficiency and the fulness of life of the collectivity.

This arrested spiritual development may express itself not only in a direct participation by adults in youthful exploits of ferocity, but also indirectly in aiding and abetting disturbances of this kind on the part of younger persons. It thereby furthers the formation of habits of ferocity which may persist in the later life of the growing generation, and so retard any movement in the direction of a more peaceable effective temperament on the part of the community. If a person so endowed with a proclivity for exploits is in a position to guide the development of habits in the adolescent members of the community, the influence which he exerts in the direction of conservation and reversion to prowess may be very considerable. This is the significance, for instance, of the fostering care latterly bestowed by many clergymen and other pillars of society upon 'boys' brigades' and similar pseudo-military organisations. The same is ture of the encouragement given to the growth of 'college spirit', college athletics, and the like, in the higher institutions of learning.

These manifestations of the predatory temperament are all to be classed under the head of exploit. They are partly simple and unreflected expressions of an attitude of emulative ferocity, partly activities deliberately entered upon with a view to gaining repute for prowess. Sports of all kinds are of the same general character, including prize-fights, bull-fights, athletics, shooting, angling, yachting, and games of skill, even where the element of destructive physical efficiency is not an obtrusive feature. Sports shade off from the basis of hostile combat, through skill, to cunning and chicanery, without its being possible to draw a line at any point. The ground of an addiction to sports is an archaic spiritual constitution-the possession of the predatory emulative propensity in a relatively high potency. A strong proclivity to adventuresome exploit and to the infliction of damage is especially pronounced in those employments which are in colloquial usage specifically called sportsmanship.

It is perhaps truer, or at least more evident, as regards sports than as regards the other expressions of predatory emulation already spoken of, that the temperament which inclines men to them is essentially a boyish temperament. The addiction to sports, therefore, in a peculiar degree marks an arrested development of the man's moral nature. This peculiar boyishness of temperament in sporting men immediately becomes apparent when attention is directed to the large element of make-believe that is present in all sporting activity. Sports share this character of make-believe with the games and exploits to which children, especially boys, are habitually inclined. Make-believe does not enter in the same proportion into all sports, but it is present in a very appreciable degree in all. It is apparently present in a larger measure in sportsmanship proper and in athletic contests than in set games of skill of a more sedentary character; although this rule may not be found to apply with any great uniformity. It is noticeable, for instance, that even very mild-mannered and matter-of-fact men who go out shooting are apt to carry an excess of arms and accoutrements in order to impress upon their own imagination the seriousness of their undertaking. These huntsmen are also prone to a histrionic, prancing gait and to an elaborate exaggeration of the motions, whether of stealth or of onslaught, involved in their deeds of exploit. Similarly in athletic sports there is almost invariably present a good share of rant and swagger and ostensible mystification-features which mark the histrionic nature of these employments. In all this, of course, the reminder of boyish makebelieve is plain enough. The slang of athletics, by the way, is in great part made up of extremely sanguinary locutions borrowed from the terminology of warfare. Except where it is adopted as a necessary means of secret communication, the use of a special slang in any employment is probably to be accepted as evidence that the occupation in question is substantially makebelieve.

A further feature in which sports differ from the duel and similar disturbances of the peace is the peculiarity that they admit of other motives being assigned for them besides the impulses of exploit and ferocity. There is probably little if any other motive present in any given case, but the fact that other reasons for indulging in sports are frequently assigned goes to say that other grounds are sometimes present in a subsidiary way. Sportsmen-hunters and anglers-are more or less in the habit of assigning a love of nature, the need of recreation, and the like, as the incentives to their favourite pastime. These motives are no doubt frequently present and make up a part of the attractiveness of the sportsman's life; but these can not be the chief incentives. These ostensible needs could be more readily and fully satisfied without the accompaniment of a systematic effort to take the life of those creatures that make up an essential feature of that 'nature' that is beloved by the sportsman. It is, indeed, the most noticeable effect of the sportsman's activity to keep nature in a state of chronic desolation by killing off all living things whose destruction he can compass.

Still, there is ground for the sportsman's claim that under the existing conventionalities his need of recreation and of contact with nature can best be satisfied by the course which he takes. Certain canons of good breeding have been imposed by the prescriptive example of a predatory leisure class in the past and have been somewhat painstakingly conserved by the usage of the latter-day representatives of that class; and these canons will not permit him, without blame, to seek contact with nature on other terms. From being an honourable employment handed down from the predatory culture as the highest form of everyday leisure, sports have come to be the only form of outdoor activity that has the full sanction of decorum. Among the proximate incentives to shooting and angling, then, may be the need of recreation and outdoor life. The remoter cause which imposes the necessity of seeking these objects under the cover of systematic slaughter is a prescription that can not be violated except at the risk of disrepute and consequent lesion to one's self-respect.

The case of other kinds of sport is somewhat similar. Of these, athletic games are the best example. Prescriptive usage with respect to what forms of activity, exercise, and recreation are permissible under the code of reputable living is of course present here also. Those who are addicted to athletic sports, or who admire them, set up the claim that these afford the best available means of recreation and of 'physical culture'. And prescriptive usage gives countenance to the claim. The canons of reputable living exclude from the scheme of life of the leisure class all activity that can not be classed as conspicuous leisure. And consequently they tend by prescription to exclude it also from the scheme of life of the community generally. At the same time purposeless physical exertion is tedious and distasteful beyond tolerance. As has been noticed in another connection, recourse is in such a case had to some form of activity which shall at least afford a colourable pretence of purpose, even if the object assigned be only a make-believe. Sports satisfy these requirements of substantial futility together with a colourable makebelieve of purpose. In addition to this they afford scope for emulation, and are attractive also on that account. In order to be decorous, an employment must conform to the leisure-class canon of reputable waste; at the same time all activity, in order to be persisted in as an habitual, even if only partial, expression of life, must conform to the generically human canon of efficiency for some serviceable objective end. The leisure-class canon demands strict and comprehensive futility; the instinct of workmanship demands purposeful action. The leisureclass canon of decorum acts slowly and pervasively, by a selective elimination of all substantially useful or purposeful modes of action from the accredited scheme of life; the instinct of workmanship acts impulsively and may be satisfied, provisionally, with a proximate purpose. It is only as the apprehended ulterior futility of a given line of action enters the reflective complex of consciousness as an element essentially alien to the normally purposeful trend of the life process that its disquieting and deterrent effect on the consciousness of the agent is wrought.

The individual's habits of thought make an organic complex, the trend of which is necessarily in the direction of serviceability to the life process. When it is attempted to assimilate systematic waste or futility, as an end in life, into this organic complex, there presently supervenes a revulsion. But this revulsion of the organism may be avoided if the attention can be confined to the proximate, unrefiected purpose of dexterous or emulative exertion. Sports-hunting, angling, athletic games, and the like-afford an exercise for dexterity and for the emulative ferocity and astuteness characteristic of predatory life. So long as the individual is but slightly gifted with reflection or with a sense of the ulterior trend of his actions-so long as his life is substantially a life of naive impulsive action-so long the immediate and unrefiected purposefulness of sports, in the way of an expression of dominance, will measurably satisfy his instinct of workmanship. This is especially true if his dominant impulses are the unreflecting emulative propensities of the predaceous temperament. At the same time the canons of decorum will commend sports to him as expressions of a pecuniarily blameless life. It is by meeting these two requirements, of ulterior wastefulness and proximate purposefulness, that any given employment holds its place as a traditional and habitual mode of decorous recreation. In the sense that other forms of recreation and exercise are morally impossible to persons of good breeding and delicate sensibilities, then, sports are the best available means of recreation under existing circum-stances.

But those members of respectable society who advocate athletic games commonly justify their attitude on this head to themselves and to their neighbours on the ground that these games serve as an invaluable means of development. They not only improve the contestant's physique, but it is commonly added that they also foster a manly spirit, both in the participants and in the spectators. Football is the particular game which will probably first occur to any one in this community when the question of the serviceability of athletic games is raised, as this form of athletic contest is at present uppermost in the mind of those who plead for or against games as a means of physical or moral salvation. This typical athletic sport may, therefore, serve to illustrate the bearing of athletics upon the development of the contestant's character and physique. It has been said, not inaptly, that the relation of football to physical culture is much the same as that of the bull-fight to agriculture. Serviceability for these lusory institutions requires sedulous training or breeding. The material used, whether brute or human, is subjected to careful selection and discipline, in order to secure and accentuate certain aptitudes and propensities which are characteristic of the ferine state, and which tend to obsolescence under domestication. This does not mean that the result in either case is an all-around and consistent rehabilitation of the ferine or barbarian habit of mind and body. The result is rather a onesided return to barbarism or to the ferœ natura-a rehabilitation and accentuation of those ferine traits which make for damage and desolation, without a corresponding development of the traits which would serve the individual's self-preservation and fulness of life in a ferine environment. The culture bestowed in football gives a product of exotic ferocity and cunning. It is a rehabilitation of the early barbarian temperament, together with a suppression of those details of temperament which, as seen from the standpoint of the social and economic exigencies, are the redeeming features of the savage character.

Conspicuous Uselessness of Education

During the recent past some tangible changes have taken place in the scope of college and university teaching. These changes have in the main consisted in a partial displacement of the humanities-those branches of learning which are conceived to make for the traditional 'culture', character, tastes, and ideals-by those more matter-of-fact branches which make for civic and industrial efficiency. To put the same thing in other words, those branches of knowledge which make for efficiency (ultimately productive efficiency) have gradually been gaining ground against those branches which make for a heightened consumption or a lowered industrial efficiency and for a type of character suited to the régime of status. In this adaptation of the scheme of instruction the higher schools have commonly been found on the conservative side; each step which they have taken in advance has been to some extent of the nature of a concession. The sciences have been intruded into the scholar's discipline from without, not to say from below. It is noticeable that the humanities which have so reluctantly yielded ground to the sciences are pretty uniformly adapted to shape the character of the student in accordance with a traditional self-centred scheme of consumption; a scheme of contemplation and enjoyment of the true, the beautiful, and the good, according to a conventional standard of propriety and excellence, the salient feature of which is leisure-otium cum dignitate. In language veiled by their own habituation to the archaic, decorous point of view, the spokesmen of the humanities have insisted upon the ideal embodied in the maxim, fruges consumere nati. This attitude should occasion no surprise in the case of schools which are shaped by and rest upon a leisureclass culture.

The professed grounds on which it has been sought, as far as might be, to maintain the received standards and methods of culture intact are likewise characteristic of the archaic temperament and of the leisure-class theory of life. The enjoyment and the bent derived from habitual contemplation of the life, ideals, speculations, and methods of consuming time and goods, in vogue among the leisure class of classical antiquity, for instance, is felt to be 'higher', 'nobler', 'worthier', than what results in these respects from a like fami-liarity with the everyday life and the knowledge and aspirations of commonplace humanity in a modem community. That learning the content of which is an unmitigated knowledge of latterday men and things is by comparison 'lower', 'base', 'ignoble' -one even hears the epithet 'sub-human' applied to this matter-of-fact knowledge of mankind and of everyday life.

This contention of the leisure-class spokesmen of the humanities seems to be substantially sound. In point of substantial fact, the gratification and the culture, or the spiritual attitude or habit of mind, resulting from an habitual contemplation of the anthropomorphism, clannishness, and leisurely self-complacency of the gentleman of an early day, or from a familiarity with the animistic superstitions and the exuberant truculence of the Homeric heroes, for instance, is, æsthetically considered, more legitimate than the corresponding results derived from a matter-of-fact knowledge of things and a contemplation of latter-day civic or workmanlike efficiency. There can be but little question that the firstnamed habits have the advantage in respect of æsthetic or honorific value, and therefore in respect of the 'worth' which is made the basis of award in the comparison. The content of the canons of taste, and more particularly of the canons of honour, is in the nature of things a resultant of the past life and circumstances of the race, transmitted to the later generation by inheritance or by tradition; and the fact that the protracted dominance of a predatory, leisure-class scheme of life has profoundly shaped the habit of mind and the point of view of the race in the past, is a sufficient basis for an æsthetically legitimate dominance of such a scheme of life in very much of what concerns matters of taste in the present. For the purpose in hand, canons of taste are race habits, acquired through a more or less protracted habituation to the approval or disapproval of the kind of things upon which a favourable or unfavourable judgment of taste is passed. Other things being equal, the longer and more unbroken the habituation, the more legitimate is the canon of taste in question. All this seems to be even truer of judgments regarding worth or honour than of judgments of taste generally.

But whatever may be the æsthetic legitimacy of the derogatory judgment passed on the newer learning by the spokesmen of the humanities, and however substantial may be the merits of the contention that the classic lore is worthier and results in a more truly human culture and character, it does not concern the question in hand., The question in hand is as to how far these branches of learning, and the point of view for which they stand in the educational system, help or hinder an efficient collective life under modem industrial circumstances-how far they further a more facile adaptation to the economic situation of to-day. The question is an economic, not an æsthetic one; and the leisure-class standards of learning which find expression in the deprecatory attitude of the higher schools towards matter-of-fact knowledge are, for the present purpose, to be valued from this point of view only. For this purpose the use of such epithets as 'noble', 'base', 'higher', 'lower', etc., is significant only as showing the animus and the point of view of the disputants; whether they contend for the worthiness of the new or of the old. All these epithets are honorific or humilific terms; that is to say, they are terms of invidious comparison, which in the last analysis fall under the category of the reputable or the disreputable; that is, they belong within the range of ideas that characterises the scheme of life of the régime of status; that is, they are in substance an expression of sportsmanship-of the predatory and animistic habit of mind; that is, they indicate an archaic point of view and theory of life, which may fit the predatory stage of culture and of economic organisation from which they have sprung, but which are, from the point of view of economic efficiency in the broader sense, disserviceable anachronisms.

The classics, and their position of prerogative in the scheme of education to which the higher seminaries of learning cling with such a fond predilection, serve to shape the intellectual attitude and lower the economic efficiency of the new learned generation. They do this not only by holding up an archaic ideal of manhood, but also by the discrimination which they inculcate with respect to the reputable and the disreputable in knowledge. This result is accomplished in two ways: (1) by inspiring an habitual aversion to what is merely useful, as contrasted with what is merely honorific in learning, and so shaping the tastes of the novice that he comes in good faith to find gratification of his tastes solely, or almost solely, in such exercise of the intellect as normally results in no industrial or social gain; and (2) by consuming the learner's time and effort in acquiring knowledge which is of no use, except in so far as this learning has by convention become incorporated into the sum of learning required of the scholar, and has thereby affected the terminology and diction employed in the useful branches of knowledge. Except for this terminological difficulty-which is itself a consequence of the vogue of the classics in the past-a knowledge of the ancient languages, for instance, would have no practical bearing for any scientist or any scholar not engaged on work primarily of a linguistic character. Of course all this has nothing to say as to the cultural value of the classics, nor is there any intention to disparage the discipline of the classics or the bent which their study gives to the student. That bent seems to be of an economically disserviceable kind, but this fact-somewhat notorious indeed-need disturb no one who has the good fortune to find comfort and strength in the classical lore. The fact that classical learning acts to derange the learner's workmanlike aptitudes should fall lightly upon the apprehension of those who hold workmanship of small account in comparison with the cultivation of decorous ideals:

Iam fides et pax et honos pudorque

Priscus et neglecta redire virtus

Audet.

Owing to the circumstance that this knowledge has become part of the elementary requirements in our system of education, the ability to use and to understand certain of the dead languages of southern Europe is not only gratifying to the person who finds occasion to parade his accomplishments in this respect, but the evidence of such knowledge serves at the same time to recommend any savant to his audience, both lay and learned. It is currently expected that a certain number of years shall have been spent in acquiring this substantially useless information, and its absence creates a presumption of hasty and precarious learning, as well as of a vulgar practicality that is equally obnoxious to the conventional standards of sound scholarship and intellectual force.

The case is analogous to what happens in the purchase of any article of consumption by a purchaser who is not an expert judge of materials or of workmanship. He makes his estimate of the value of the article chiefly on the ground of the apparent expensiveness of the finish of those decorative parts and features which have no immediate relation to the intrinsic usefulness of the article; the presumption being that some sort of illdefined proportion subsists between the substantial value of the article and the expense of adornment added in order to sell it. The presumption that there can ordinarily be no sound scholarship where a knowledge of the classics and humanities is wanting leads to a conspicuous waste of time and labour on the part of the general body of students in acquiring such knowledge. The conventional insistence on a modicum of conspicuous waste as an incident of all reputable scholarship has affected our canons of taste and of serviceability in matters of scholarship in much the same way as the same principle has influenced our judgment of the serviceability of manufactured goods.

It is true, since conspicuous consumption has gained more and more on conspicuous leisure as a means of repute, the acquisition of the dead languages is no longer so imperative a requirement as it once was, and its talismanic virtue as a voucher of scholarship has suffered a concomitant impairment. But while this is true, it is also true that the classics have scarcely lost in absolute value as a voucher of scholastic respectability, since for this purpose it is only necessary that the scholar should be able to put in evidence some learning which is conventionally recognised as evidence of wasted time; and the classics lend themselves with great facility to this use. Indeed, there can be little doubt that it is their utility as evidence of wasted time and effort, and hence of the pecuniary strength necessary in order to afford this waste, that has secured to the classics their position of prerogative in the scheme of the higher learning, and has led to their being esteemed the most honorific of all learning. They serve the decorative ends of leisure-class learning better than any other body of knowledge, and hence they are an effective means of reputability.

In this respect the classics have until lately had scarcely a rival. They still have no dangerous rival on the continent of Europe, but lately, since college athletics have won their way into a recognised standing as an accredited field of scholarly accomplishment, this latter branch of learning-if athletics may be freely classed as learning-has become a rival of the classics for the primacy in leisure-class education in American and English schools. Athletics have an obvious advantage over the classics for the purpose of leisure-class learning, since success as an athlete presumes, not only a waste of time, but also a waste of money, as well as the possession of certain highly unindustrial archaic traits of character and temperament. In the German universities the place of athletics and Greek-letter fraternities, as a leisure-class scholarly occupation, has in some measure been supplied by a skilled and graded inebriety and a perfunctory duelling.

The leisure class and its standards of virtue-archaism and waste-can scarcely have been concerned in the introduction of the classics into the scheme of the higher learning; but the tenacious retention of the classics by the higher schools, and the high degree of reputability which still attaches to them, are no doubt due to their conforming so closely to the requirements of archaism and waste.

'Classic' always carries this connotation of wasteful and archaic, whether it is used to denote the dead languages or the obsolete or obsolescent forms of thought and diction in the living language, or to denote other items of scholarly activity or apparatus to which it is applied with less aptness. So the archaic idiom of the English language is spoken of as 'classic' English. Its use is imperative in all speaking and writing upon serious topics, and a facile use of it lends dignity to even the most commonplace and trivial string of talk. The newest form of English diction is of course never written; the sense of that leisure-class propriety which requires archaism in speech is present even in the most illiterate or sensational writers in sufficient force to prevent such a lapse. On the other hand, the highest and most conventionalised style of archaic diction is-quite characteristically-properly employed only in communications between an anthropomorphic divinity and his subjects. Midway between these extremes lies the everyday speech of leisure-class conversation and literature.

Elegant diction, whether in writing or speaking, is an effective means of reputability. It is of moment to know with some precision what is the degree of archaism conventionally required in speaking on any given topic. Usage differs appreciably from the pulpit to the marketplace; the latter, as might be expected, admits the use of relatively new and effective words and turns of expression, even by fastidious persons. A discriminate avoidance of neologisms is honorific, not only because it argues that time has been wasted in acquiring the obsolescent habit of speech, but also as showing that the speaker has from infancy habitually associated with persons who have been familiar with the obsolescent idiom. It thereby goes to show his leisureclass antecedents. Great purity of speech is presumptive evidence of several successive lives spent in other than vulgarly useful occupations; although its evidence is by no means entirely conclusive to this point.

As felicitous an instance of futile classicism as can well be found, outside of the Far East, is the conventional spelling of the English language. A breach of the proprieties in spelling is extremely annoying and will discredit any writer in the eyes of all persons who are possessed of a developed sense of the true and beautiful. English orthography satisfies all the requirements of the canons of reputability under the law of conspicuous waste. It is archaic, cumbrous, and ineffective; its acquisition consumes much time and effort; failure to acquire it is easy of detection. Therefore it is the first and readiest test of reputability in learning, and conformity to its ritual is indispensable to a blameless scholastic life.

On this head of purity of speech, as at other points where a conventional usage rests on the canons of archaism and waste, the spokesmen for the usage instinctively take an apologetic attitude. It is contended, in substance, that a punctilious use of ancient and accredited locutions will serve to convey thought more adequately and more precisely than would the straight-forward use of the latest form of spoken English; whereas it is notorious that the ideas of to-day are effectively expressed in the slang of to-day. Classic speech has the honorific virtue of dignity; it commands attention and respect as being the accredited method of communication under the leisure-class scheme of life, because it carries a pointed suggestion of the industrial exemption of the speaker. The advantage of the accredited locutions lies in their reputability; they are reputable because they are cumbrous and out of date, and therefore argue waste of time and exemption from the use and the need of direct and forcible speech.

分册总目录

女权辩护

Mary Wollstonecraft A Vindication of the Rights of Woman

返回总目录

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

女权辩护

（英汉双语）

［英］玛丽·沃斯通克拉夫特　著

陶　鑫　译

中国出版集团公司

中国对外翻译出版有限公司

图书在版编目（CIP）数据

女权辩护：英汉双语/（英）沃斯通克拉夫特著；陶鑫译．

—北京：中国对外翻译出版有限公司，2011.12

（企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想）

ISBN 978-7-5001-3320-9

Ⅰ．①女…　Ⅱ．①沃…　②陶…　Ⅲ．①英语—汉语—对照读物　②女权运动—研究　Ⅳ.①H319.4:D

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2011）第247437号

www.penguin.com

First published 1792

Published in Penguin Classics 1975

This extract published in Penguin Books 2004

Taken from the Penguin Classics edition of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman

edited by Miriam Brody

Set in Monotype Dante

Typeset by Rowland Phototypesetting Ltd, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk

出版发行／中国对外翻译出版有限公司

地　　址／北京市西城区车公庄大街甲4号物华大厦6层

电　　话／（010）68359376　68359303　68359719

邮　　编／100044　　传　　真／（010）68357870

电子邮箱／book@ctpc.com.cn

网　　址／http://www.ctpc.com.cn

出版策划／张高里

责任编辑／梁　斐

封面设计／奇文堂·潘峰

排　　版／竹叶图文

印　　刷／保定市中画美凯印刷有限公司

规　　格／760×940毫米　1/32　印　　张／8.5

版　　次／2012年3月第一版　　印　　次／2012年3月第一次

ISBN 978–7–5001–3320–9　定价：18.00元

“企鹅”及相关标识是企鹅图书有限公司已经注册或尚未注册的商标。未经允许，不得擅用。

中国对外翻译出版有限公司与企鹅图书有限公司联合出版

中文目录

观念

《伟大的思想》中文版序

译者前言

作者前言

关于两性品格流行观点的讨论

再论关于两性品格的流行观点

关于使女人沦入堕落状态原因的探讨

各种关于良好声誉重要性的性别观念对道德的损害

社会上既定的不合理差别造成的有害影响

论国民教育

女人的无知导致的数例蠢行结束语：论女性习俗的变革必然期望带来的道德进步

返回分册总目录

观　念

——《伟大的思想》代序

梁文道

每隔一段时间，媒体就喜欢评选一次“影响世界的X个人”或者“改变历史的X项发明”。然而，在我看来，几乎所有人类史上最重大的变革，首先都是一种观念的变革。

我们今天之所以会关注气候的暖化与生物多样性的保存，是因为我们看待地球的方式变了，我们比以前更加意识到人在自然中的位置，也更加了解自然其实是一个动态的系统。放弃了人类可以主宰地球的世界观，这就意味着我们接受了一个观念的变化。同样地，我们不再相信男人一出生就该主宰女人，甚至也不再认为男女之别是不可动摇的本质区分；这也是观念的变化。如果说环保运动和女权运动有任何影响的话，那些影响一定就是从大脑开始的。也不要只看好事，20世纪最惨绝人寰的浩劫最初也只不过是一些小小的观念，危险的观念。比如说一位德国人，他相信人类的进化必以“次等种族”的灭绝为代价……

这套丛书不叫“伟大的巨著”，是因为它们体积都不大，而且还有不少是抽取自某些名著的章节。可它们却全是伟大的观念，例如达尔文论天择，潘恩论常识，它们共同构成了人类的观念地图。从头看它们一遍，就是检视文明所走过的道路，从深处理解我们今天变成这个样子的原因。

也许你会发现其中有些陌生的名字，或者看起来没有那么“伟大”的篇章（譬如普鲁斯特追忆他的阅读时光），但你千万不要小看它们。因为真正重要、真正能够产生启蒙效果的观念往往具有跨界移动的能力，它会跨越时空，离开它原属的领域，在另一个世界产生意外的效果。就像马可·波罗在监狱里述说的异国图景，当时有谁料得到那些荒诞的故事会诱发出哥伦布的旅程呢？我也无法猜测，这套小书的读者里头会不会有下一个哥伦布，他将带着令人惊奇的观念航向自己的大海。

《伟大的思想》中文版序

企鹅《伟大的思想》丛书2004年开始出版。在英国，已付印80种，尚有20种计划出版。美国出版的丛书规模略小，德国的同类丛书规模更小一些。丛书销量已远远超过200万册，在全球很多人中间，尤其是学生当中，普及了哲学和政治学。中文版《伟大的思想》丛书的推出，迈出了新的一步，令人欢欣鼓舞。

推出这套丛书的目的是让读者再次与一些伟大的非小说类经典著作面对面地交流。太长时间以来，确定版本依据这样一个假设——读者在教室里学习这些著作，因此需要导读、详尽的注释、参考书目等。此类版本无疑非常有用，但我想，如果能够重建托马斯·潘恩《常识》或约翰·罗斯金《艺术与人生》初版时的环境，重新营造更具亲和力的氛围，那也是一件有意思的事。当时，读者除了原作者及其自身的理性思考外没有其他参照。

这样做有一定的缺点：每个作者的话难免有难解或不可解之处，一些重要的背景知识会缺失。例如，读者对亨利·梭罗创作时的情况毫无头绪，也不了解该书的接受情况及影响。不过，这样做的优点也很明显。最突出的优点是，作者的初衷又一次变得重要起来——托马斯·潘恩的愤怒、查尔斯·达尔文的灵光、塞内加的隐逸。这些作家在那么多国家影响了那么多人的生活，其影响不可估量，有的长达几个世纪，读他们书的乐趣罕有匹敌。没有亚当·斯密或阿图尔·叔本华，难以想象我们今天的世界。这些小书的创作年代已很久远，但其中的话已彻底改变了我们的政治学、经济学、智力生活、社会规划和宗教信仰。

《伟大的思想》丛书一直求新求变。地区不同，收录的作家也不同。在中国或美国，一些作家更受欢迎。英国《伟大的思想》收录的一些作家在其他地方则默默无闻。称其为“伟大的思想”，我们亦慎之又慎。思想之伟大，在于其影响之深远，而不意味着这些思想是“好”的，实际上一些书可列入“坏”思想之列。丛书中很多作家受到同一丛书其他作家的很大影响，例如，马塞尔·普鲁斯特承认受约翰·罗斯金影响很大，米歇尔·德·蒙田也承认深受塞内加影响，但其他作家彼此憎恨，如果发现他们被收入同一丛书，一定会气愤难平。不过，读者可自行决定这些思想是否合理。我们衷心希望，您能在阅读这些杰作中得到乐趣。

《伟大的思想》出版者

西蒙·温德尔

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

Penguin's Great Ideas series began publication in 2004. In the UK we now have 80 copies in print with plans to publish a further 20. A somewhat smaller list is published in the USA and a related, even smaller series in Germany. The books have sold now well over two million copies and have popularized philosophy and politics for many people around the world — particularly students. The launch of a Chinese Great Ideas series is an extremely exciting new development.

The intention behind the series was to allow readers to be once more face to face with some of the great nonfiction classics. For too long the editions of these books were created on the assumption that you were studying them in the classroom and that the student needed an introduction, extensive notes, a bibliography and so on. While this sort of edition is of course extremely useful, I thought it would be interesting to recreate a more intimate feeling — to recreate the atmosphere in which, for example, Thomas Paine's Common Sense or John Ruskin's On Art and Life was first published — where the reader has no other guide than the original author and his or her own common sense.

This method has its severe disadvantages — there will inevitably be statements made by each author which are either hard or impossible to understand, some important context might be missing. For example the reader has no clue as to the conditions under which Henry Thoreau was writing his book and the reader cannot be aware of the book's reception or influence. The advantages however are very clear — most importantly the original intentions of the author become once more important. The sense of anger in Thomas Paine, of intellectual excitement in Charles Darwin, of resignation in Seneca — few things can be more thrilling than to read writers who have had such immeasurable influence on so many lives, sometimes for centuries, in many different countries. Our world would not make sense without Adam Smith or Arthur Schopenhauer — our politics, economics, intellectual lives, social planning, religious beliefs have all been fundamentally changed by the words in these little books, first written down long ago.

The Great Ideas series continues to change and evolve. In different parts of the world different writers would be included. In China or in the United States there are some writers who are liked much more than others. In the UK there are writers in the Great Ideas series who are ignored elsewhere. We have also been very careful to call the series Great Ideas — these ideas are great because they have been so enormously influential, but this does not mean that they are Good Ideas — indeed some of the books would probably qualify as Bad Ideas. Many of the writers in the series have been massively influenced by others in the series — for example Marcel Proust owned so much to John Ruskin, Michel de Montaigne to Seneca. But others hated each other and would be distressed to find themselves together in the same series! But readers can decide the validity of these ideas for themselves. We very much hope that you enjoy these remarkable books.

Simon Winder

Publisher

Great Ideas

译者前言

玛丽·沃斯通克拉夫特（1759—1797），出身于一个普通市民家庭，她的家庭生活很不幸福，父亲酗酒成性，母亲愚蠢无能。玛丽从小没有享受家庭的温暖和良好的家庭教育。她很早就自谋生路，做过小学教师、护理师和家庭女教师。艰辛的谋生之路磨炼了玛丽的意志，生活中男性和女性的各种不公现象激发了她写作的冲动。她一生写就了多篇小说和论文、一本旅行书简、一本法国大革命史、一本行为手册以及一本儿童文学。《女权辩护》（1792）是她最知名的作品。玛丽在这本书中表现出的超越普通女性的真知灼见，让她当之无愧地成为当代女性主义的先驱。

对普通大众——特别是女权主义者而言，沃斯通克拉夫特的一生要比她的作品更吸引人们的注意，这主要是由于她另类的生活方式。在与无政府主义运动的先驱者威廉·戈德温结婚之前，沃斯通克拉夫特还曾与两个男人有过两段不幸的爱情：其一是画家亨利希·菲斯利，其二是商人吉尔伯特·伊姆利。沃斯通克拉夫特与戈德温有一个女儿，即《弗兰肯斯坦》的作者玛丽·雪莱。38岁时，沃斯通克拉夫特死于产后并发症，遗留下几部未完成的手稿。

在沃斯通克拉夫特死后，戈德温出版了《〈女权辩护〉作者传》（1798），其中透露了她另类的生活方式。本为纪念妻子的戈德温，却在无意之间将她的名誉破坏长达一个世纪之久。但是，随着20世纪初女权主义运动的兴起，沃斯通克拉夫特对性别平等的提倡以及对传统女性特质的批评开始变得日益重要。如今，她已被视作是女权主义哲学家的鼻祖之一，而女权主义者们也经常会提到她的生活与作品。

在《女权辩护》中，她以各种实际生活中的鲜活事例，精辟地指出了女人温柔端庄的本质，并分析了致使男女不平等的各种陈规陋习。她指出社会上各种关于女性优点的意见造成了女性性格的软弱和无能，而女性的教育制度使女性处于一种“无知的奴隶式依附”状态。她主张女人应当以自己的理智赢得世人的敬重，而不是靠外表的装饰、性格的软弱博得男人的同情和爱慕。作为人类的女性应当享有与男性相同的教育权和其他基本权利，而不应被视作社会的装饰品或婚姻交易中的财产；而要想从根本上改善女人的品格和风尚，必须给予她们精神上的自由，培养她们的理性，让她们自由地思考，独立地履行家庭的责任，成为一个“人”。她的这些在当时看来“离经叛道”的观点却成为很多女性主义者奋斗的准则；即使在现代，当我们重温这位伟大的女性200多年前写下的文字时，仍然不得不惊叹于她敏锐的洞察力和深刻的思索。

作者前言

我带着焦虑关切的心情审视历史和观察世界之后，一种非常郁闷的悲愤感让我情绪十分低落；在我不得不承认，不仅造物主让人和人之间有巨大的差别，而且世界上发展至今的文明也是有失偏颇时，不由得长叹一声。我曾经翻阅过很多本讨论教育问题的书，也耐心观察过父母的教育方式和学校的管理模式，但是结果如何呢？——我坚信，造成我强烈谴责的不幸境遇的主要原因，是对我的女性同胞教育问题的忽视；我还坚信，特别是女人，由于一个轻率结论导致的各种综合因素共同作用，沦入软弱和悲惨的境地。事实上，女人的行为举止显然证明了她们的思想是不健康的；因为就像生长在过于肥沃土壤里的花朵一样，为了美丽牺牲了力量和用途；而那些鲜艳的花朵，令那些评头论足的观赏者感到心满意足之后，远在成熟期之前就凋谢在枝头上，无人问津了。我通过阅读论述教育问题的书籍，认为这种华而不实的现象起因之一是一套错误的教育体制，写这些书的男人与其说把女性当作人来看，不如说把女性当作女人来看。他们热切渴望将女性变成迷人的情妇，而不是深情的妻子和理性的母亲；女人的理智受到这种华而不实论调的蒙蔽太深，甚至现代社会的文明女性，除了极少数人之外，在应该拥有一种更为高尚的志向，并且通过自己的才能和品德赢得尊重的时候，却只是一门心思试图激发别人对她们的爱慕。

因此，在讨论女人权利和行为的专著中，那些致力于改善女人权利和行为的著作不应忽略，特别是有些著作根本不讳言，女人虚伪的优雅已经使她们意志薄弱；有才华的作家创作的教科书和那些比较轻浮的作品一样具有相同的倾向；按照真正伊斯兰教的习俗，女人被看作是一种附属品，而不是人类的一部分；人们用差强人意的理由夸大男人和女人的差别，这种夸大的差别将男人区别于野兽，并把一根自然的权杖交给一个软弱的人。

但是作为一个女人，我无意引导读者认为我有意热烈探讨这些关于女人品行和低劣地位等有争议的问题；但是既然这个话题出现在我的面前，我就不能避而不谈，否则我的主要论点就会遭到曲解，因此我要花一点时间简单论述我的观点。在自然界，女人大多体力上不如男人，这是显而易见的。这就是自然法则，而这条法则似乎并没有为了女人而被废除或取消。因此男人在体力上有一定的优势是不容置疑的，而且这是一种高贵的天赋特权！但是男人仍然不满足于这种天然的优越地位，他们竭力将女人的地位贬得更低，只是为了让女人变成一时诱人的玩物；但是女人沉溺于男人在肉欲支配下对她们表达的爱慕之情，不会努力在心中去追求一种永恒的兴趣，也不会尝试成为这些以和她们交往为消遣的同胞们的朋友。

我意识到了一个明显的推论。我到处都能听到反对女人男性化的呼声，但是哪里有这样的女人呢？如果男人如此疾呼只是为了打击女人打猎、射击和赌博的热情的话，我也会十分乐意加入男人的呐喊；但是如果是为了反对女人模仿，确切地说，获取男人的才能和性格的话，那么我想，那些以理性、冷静眼光看待女人的人会和我一样，希望女人日益男性化，因为这些才能和品德能够提升人类的品格，让女人成为更高尚的动物，从而让女人被广泛地称为人。

讨论至此，自然我们的话题就要一分为二。首先，我要以一种宏观的视角，将女人当作人来讨论，她们和男人一样，被神安放到这个世界上施展她们的才华；然后我要更加详细地探讨她们独特的职责。

我还希望避免犯一个很多作家都犯过的错误；因为目前女人接受的教育，其实是针对贵妇人的，如果我们不包括《桑德夫和莫顿》［1］里面一点零散的间接建议的话；但是我以更加坚定的语气告诉我的女同胞们，我将特别关注那些中产阶级的女人，因为她们似乎处在最自然的状态。也许华而不实、道德败坏和爱慕虚荣的种子一直都是大人物播撒的。软弱而做作的人以一种不成熟、不自然的状态，超越了女性同胞的正常需求和感情，败坏了道德基础，将腐化堕落散布到社会大众中！这些人作为人类的一个阶级，是最需要别人怜悯的；有钱人的教育会让她们变得浮华而无助，而因为不用履行那些能提升人类品格的责任，她们正在发展的心灵无法得到锻炼。她们活着只是为了享乐，这种生活方式令她们很快就只能提供无聊的享乐了。

但是我的目的是对社会不同阶层的人和不同阶层中女人的道德品格分别进行探讨，所以目前来看上述提示已经足够了。我只是指出了这个话题，因为我认为前言的精要就是对其所介绍的作品内容做一个大致的概括。

我希望我的女性同胞原谅，因为我把她们当作理智的人来看待，既不奉承她们迷人的魅力，也不认为她们处于一种永远也无法独立的幼稚状态。我真诚希望能指出什么是真正的尊严和人类的幸福。我希望说服女人努力争取身心两方面的力量，使她们相信：那些温柔的蜜语、敏感的心灵、细腻的情感和优雅的品位，都是软弱的同义词；而那些只配供人怜悯的人和爱情，很快就会成为人们鄙视的对象。

因此，我不愿意使用那些男人奉承我们或滋养我们奴隶般依赖性的甜言蜜语，我鄙视那些被认为是软弱女人特点的脆弱优雅的思维、精致细腻的情感和可爱顺服的行为，我希望指出品德比优雅更重要，我们追求的首要目标就是不论性别，培养人的品格，而所有的次要目标都应当用这个简单的标准来检验，这种追求是值得赞赏的。

这就是我计划的概述；如果我一想到这个问题就会感受到强烈的情感并以此坚决地表达我的信念的话，那么我的一部分读者必然也会感觉到我这样做是出于经验和思考。受到这个重大目标的激励，我就不屑于再推敲词语修饰文风了。我希望我的作品于人有益，真诚让我无法做作，因为我希望用论证的力量说服我的读者，而不是用华丽的词语令人炫目。我不会浪费时间咬文嚼字，更不会编造一些言不由衷的矫情的夸大之词。我将关注事情的本质，而不是玩文字游戏！另外，我非常热切地希望女人能成为社会上更受尊敬的成员，因此我将极力避免用那些从散文进入小说，又从小说进入日常书信和对话中的华丽辞藻。

这些信手拈来的夸张的漂亮言辞损坏了品位，并且造成了一种背离朴实真理的病态娇弱；而泛滥的虚伪感情和夸大的情调扼杀了内心的自然情感，让家庭生活变得无趣。而家庭本应承担教导一个理性的不朽灵魂为更崇高的事业而奋斗的责任，并为这个教导的过程提供乐趣。

目前妇女教育比以前更受关注，但是女人依然被看作是轻薄的人，遭到那些试图以讥讽或教育改善她们的作家的嘲弄和怜悯。应该承认，女人年轻的时候把大把的光阴都花在学习些许才艺上面，同时为了美貌的放荡观念和通过婚姻抬升自己地位（这是女人提升自己地位的唯一办法）的欲望而牺牲对身心的培养。这种欲望让女人变得跟牲畜一样，她们结婚之后，行为规范像孩童般幼稚：她们梳妆打扮，浓妆艳抹，她们还给造物主的创造物起诨名。这些软弱的人只配当作男人的性玩物！谁能指望她们明智地管理一个家庭，或者照顾自己带到这个世界上来的可怜的孩子呢？

既然如此，如果我们可以从女人目前的行为，从目前普遍流行的对享乐的嗜好（这种嗜好代替了伟大志向和能够提升心灵的高尚感情）公正地推断出以下结论：女人一直以来接受的教育和文明社会的体制加速了女人成为微不足道的欲望的对象——只不过是繁殖笨蛋的机器罢了！——如果指望女人有所成就却不培养她们的理智，这种行为让她们忽略了自己应尽的责任，在韶华逝去之后变成荒唐而无益的人；那么我认为，理性的男人就会因为我试图说服女人变得更加男性化、更加受尊重而原谅我。

其实“男性化”只不过是个唬人的字眼而已，永远不必担心女人会获得过多的勇气或坚毅，因为她们明显在体力方面不如男人，这让她们在生活的各个方面不得不对男人有一定的依赖；但是为什么要用那些认为品格有性别之分并使简单的真理和性欲的狂想混淆不清的偏见，使这种不平衡更加严重呢？

女人这种做作的软弱导致了一种压制他人的倾向，并且让她们变得狡猾（狡猾是力量天然的对手），她们装出一副令人鄙夷的幼稚模样，即使这样能激起性欲，却也损伤了尊严。事实上，女人被那些女性品质的错误观点贬得太低，以致我在做出以上主张的时候，并不想要做奇谈怪论。让男人变得更贞洁，更节制吧，如果女人没有因此而同等地变得更聪明，那么显而易见，女人的智力确实比较低劣。似乎不用强调我现在说的是女性整体。有很多女性比她们的男性亲属更通情达理；既然在世间那些争夺外部平衡的永恒斗争中总没有胜出的一方，那么，思想作为一种内在力量自然地也就有了更大重要性，有些女性在夫妻关系中无须贬低自己，因为智力永远处于统治地位。

注释

［1］英国作家托马斯·戴所作的一本关于儿童教育的小说，桑德夫和莫顿是书中主人公。——译者注

关于两性品格流行观点的讨论

为了给男性专制寻找理由，确切说是借口，人们想出很多精致的言论，来证明两性在修身养性的时候，应当以培养完全不同的性格为目标；确切地说，女人不能拥有心智的力量，而这种力量恰是修得真正的美德所必需的。但是似乎上帝只给人类指明了一条通向美德和幸福的道路，即让人类拥有灵魂。

既然女人并不是短命的虚度年华者，那为何要让她们深陷无知还美其名曰天真呢？男人不是尖酸地挖苦我们任性的情欲和卑微的恶习，就是振振有词地抱怨我们的愚笨和善变。我会回应，看，这就是无知的必然结局！仅仅依傍偏见的思维必将永远多变；当这种偏见的思潮不受约束时，它将带着毁灭性的力量蔓延。有母亲以身作则，女人自小就明白，略微知晓一些人性的弱点、行事精明、性情温和、表面顺从和恪守凡庸礼节，就会得到男人的庇护。对于一个拥有美貌的女子来说，其他任何东西都不重要，因为她们生命中至少20年光阴可安享男人的保护。

弥尔顿［1］就是这样描写人类初始、脆弱的母亲［2］的；可是我还是不明白他说女人生当性情温柔、妩媚动人是什么意思，除非他真正以穆罕默德的口吻，意欲剥夺我们的灵魂，并暗示我们只不过是美貌和盲从的生物，在男人不能乘着思考的翅膀翱翔时取悦他们的感官。

那些劝告我们成为温顺家奴的人，多么粗野地侮辱了我们！例如他们经常热心地建议我们：要靠温柔顺从来取得支配权，这些言论多么愚蠢幼稚，一个堕落到用这种险恶手段取得支配权的人是多么渺小卑微——她是永生的人吗？“毫无疑问，”培根勋爵［3］说，“人类肉体上和野兽同列，如果他灵魂上不能和上帝同列，他就是低下卑微的东西！”男人试图通过让女人永远保持孩童般的幼稚来保证她们行为端正，在我看来，这是极其不明智的。卢梭希望男女两性都停止理性的探索，这似乎比较合乎情理。因为一旦男人品尝了智慧果［4］，女人必然也紧随其后；然而，她们的理智接受的培养并不健全，她们能得到的只能是有害的知识。

孩童应当天真，我赞成这点；但这个词用在男人或女人身上，就成了软弱的委婉说法。因为如果女人注定能够获得人类的种种美德，并且通过智慧获得坚贞的性格——这种性格是我们未来希望的最坚实的基础，那女人也必然有权面对光明之源泉，而不是被迫在微弱的星光下摸索前行。当然，弥尔顿和我的想法大相径庭；因为他只强调美貌的不可置疑的特权，虽然从下面两段诗中（我摘录下来以作对比），我们很难看出他思想的一致性。不过伟大的男人经常跟着他们的直觉犯这种矛盾的错误：

于是绝美的夏娃回答道：

我的主人，我一切由你差遣，

你的命令，我一概无条件服从；

这原本就是上帝的安排；

上帝为你立法，而你是我的准则：

不求甚解即女人最满意的知识和荣耀。

这些正是我曾对孩子们说过的论点，只是我还补充说，你们的理智正在发展，你们必须尊重我的意见，直到它成熟到一定阶段，——之后你们应当独立思考，一切完全依靠上帝……

因此在讨论女人的言谈举止时，我们应当摒弃那些关于身体的世俗言论，探寻我们应努力让她们成为什么样的人，以和上帝合作——如果这种说法不是太过分的话。

个人教育这个词目前还没有明确的定义，我对它的理解是：赋予孩子一种关注，使其见识增长，性情成形，学会控制蠢蠢欲动的情欲，并在身体成熟之前锻炼自己的理性思维；这样他们成年以后，就可以继续踏上思考和推理的重要征程，而不是从头开始。

为了避免误解，我必须声明，我不认为私人教育可以收到某些无端乐观的学者们声称的奇异效果。男人和女人一定会在很大程度上受到他们所在社会的舆论和行为规范的教育。每一个时代都有一股主流的舆论取向，似乎是为了赋予这个时代一种不变的特征。因此我们可以断定，除非社会构成发生变化，否则我们无法期待教育能带来什么改变。然而考虑到我当前的目的，我只要声明一点就够了：无论环境对个人的才能产生什么影响，每个人都可以通过运用理智成为有道德的人；因为只要有一个人生来具有邪恶的倾向，是真正的坏人，那么，还有什么可以阻止我们成为无神论者呢？或者如果我们崇拜一个神，那个神难道不是个魔鬼吗？

因此，我眼中最完备的教育就是对理智的锻炼，使人的品格和心灵得到最大限度的发展和培养。或者说教育是为了使个人获得能使其独立的优秀品德习惯。事实上，称呼那些并非通过独立思考而获得某些品质的人为高尚的人，是很荒唐的。这是卢梭描述男人的观点；我将其引申到女人，并坚信，她们之所以有越轨行为，是由于虚假的优雅，而非对男性品格的探求。但是她们对受到的帝王般的崇拜过于醉心，除非时代风貌发生改变，转而建立在更理性的基础上，否则也许无法说服她们，通过贬低自己所得的不合理权力其实是个祸害；或者让她们相信，必须回归本性，和男性站在平等的地位上才能保持纯洁爱情带来的宁静和满足。但我们必须等待这个时代的到来——也许要等到王公贵族们受到理智的启示后，推崇人的尊严而非幼稚状态，抛弃他们华而不实的世袭权；如果那时候女人还不放弃滥用美丽获得的为所欲为的权利——那她们确实证明了自己智慧上不及男人。

也许有人会指责我傲慢自大；但我仍然必须申明，我坚信：所有写过关于女性教育和行为举止这个话题的作家，从卢梭到格雷戈里博士［5］，都曾促使女人的性格更加虚伪和懦弱，否则她们不至于这样；也正因此，女人成了社会上更加无用的群体。我似乎可以更加温和地表达我的信念，但是我担心这样就成了虚伪的满腹牢骚，而不是强烈情感的真实表达，也无法展现我经过经验和反复思考得到的明确结论……所有那些在我看来有意侮辱人类一半的成员，并使女人牺牲所有坚贞品质以取悦于人的著作，我都将对其整体主旨予以反对。

但是，按照卢梭的逻辑，如果男人身体成熟之后，心智也在一定程度上获得了完善，为了保持男人和他妻子的一体性，做妻子的完全依赖丈夫的理智也许是有一定道理的；就像优雅的常青藤缠绕在支撑它的橡树上，构成力量和美貌相得益彰的整体。但是，天哪！丈夫们，以及他们的贤内助们，往往不过是大孩子，——哦，不，多亏了早年的放荡风流，这些丈夫连男子汉大丈夫的外形都没有，——正如让瞎子给瞎子带路，我们还需要上帝来告诉我们后果的严重性吗？

在如今这个腐败的社会状况下，有很多因素通过束缚女人智力、折磨她们的感官而奴役女人。这其中之一，也许是最有害的因素，莫过于女人做事毫无头绪。

做事有条不紊是非常重要的能力，男人从孩提时代就受过做事方法的训练，因此行事缜密，而女人一般接受的是杂乱不堪的教育，因此很难会像男人那样，注意到这个问题。这种漫不经心、毫无条理的瞎猜（还有什么其他的词，可以更好地形容这种丝毫不经过理智推敲，肆意运用凭借本能得到的常识的行为？）使女人缺乏对事物的总结归纳能力；因此她们重复着昨天做过的事情，仅仅因为昨天她们也做了这件事。

这种在早期对理智的忽略，产生的后果比我们想象的要严重得多；因为这些意志坚强的女人学到的少得可怜的知识，鉴于各种原因，不如男人的有条理，况且这些知识往往仅仅是通过对实际生活的观察得到的，她们很少会将个人观察的现象和通过假想抽象经验而得到的结论做一番比较。她们更多地是通过从属地位和处理家务而获得社会交往，因此她们学习的都是零碎的点滴知识；另外由于学习对她们来说基本上只是次要的事情，所以她们不会以持之以恒的热情钻研任何一门学问，而这种热情是使人才智焕发、头脑清醒的不可或缺的因素。在目前的社会状况下，男人需要学习一点儿知识来维持绅士身份，因此男孩们需要接受几年的教育。但是相对于锻炼理智，对于女人的教育更注重培养她们如何获得优雅的体态。女人因生育和恪守端庄的错误观念而精疲力竭，身体发育不良，无法展现某些优美的姿态。此外，她们年轻时没有通过竞争锻炼自己的才智；即使她们天资聪颖，由于没有从事过严肃的科学研究，这种天赋也很快因注重生活品质和衣着举止而渐渐消逝。她们一味追求结果和改进，从不追根溯源；那些规范行为的繁文缛节，其实只是简单原则的蹩脚替代品而已。

为了证明女性柔弱的外表是教育制度造成的，我们可以举军人的例子：他们和女人一样，在头脑还没有积累起知识和原则的时候就被送入社会。结果也是一样：他们从混乱的谈话中获得一点肤浅的知识，通过在社会上厮混见了些世面；人们经常将这种对风俗和习惯的了解，误认为是对人类情感的认识。但是这种随意观察得到的粗糙结论，从未经过理性的检验，也非通过比较理论和经验得来，能称得上是对人类情感的认识吗？士兵和女人一样，拘泥于那些微不足道的品德。若男女受的教育相同，两性之间还有什么区别呢？我现在看到的一切区别不过是由于男人拥有更多的自由，得以见更多世面罢了。

现在做一番政治评论也许有点偏离我要论述的主题；但是它是在我一系列思考中自然而然产生的，因此我不能避而不谈。

常备军中永远不可能有意志坚定、精力充沛的士兵；军队也许是纪律严明的机器，可是其中很少有热情奔放、才华横溢的军人；至于深刻的洞察力，我敢断言在军队中和在女人中一样，极为罕见。我认为原因是一样的。我们甚至可以更进一步断言，军人同样也特别注意外表，热爱跳舞、热闹场所、冒险和嘲弄别人。他们像美丽的女人一样，把阿谀奉承当作每天的主题；他们受教导要取悦于人，他们活着就是为了取悦于人。但是在两性对比中他们并未丧失优势的地位，因为人们仍然认为男人地位比女人优越。尽管除了我刚才所述以外，我们很难看到他们的优越性表现在哪里。

最大的不幸在于，他们在尚未进行道德修养之时就学会了一套表面的规矩；在未经过深思熟虑，对人类本性宏大理想的轮廓深入认识时就学会了人情世故。后果显而易见。满足于对一般人性的认识，他们很容易产生偏见；他们人云亦云，盲目地屈从权威。所以即使他们有点理智，那也不过是一种出于本能的一知半解，这种理解只能对行为方式做出判断，但是在深究表象之下的原因或者分析观点时，就派不上用场了。

这种评论对女性是否适用呢？不但适用，我们还可以把这个观点更引申一步，因为他们都是受害于文明社会里建立起来的不合理的差别，而失去了有利的地位。财富和世袭的荣耀，让人们认为女性一文不名，她们只是关注财产的多寡；游手好闲使社会上出现了一批既殷勤又粗暴的人，他们一边甘受情妇奴役，一边对自己的姐妹、妻子和女儿作威作福。确实，这样做只是为了让她们安守本分。拓展女人的心胸、锻炼她们的理智，就会结束盲目的服从；但是，掌权者需要这种盲目的服从，因此暴君和享乐主义者竭力将女性保持在蒙昧无知的状态是有道理的，因为暴君只需要奴隶，而享乐主义者只需要玩物。享乐主义者其实是危害最大的暴君；女人受到她们情人的欺骗，正如年幼的君主被侍臣玩弄，还梦想着自己在统治着他们。

现在我主要谈谈卢梭，因为他对索菲亚［6］性格的塑造无疑非常扣人心弦，虽然在我看来极不自然。但是我要抨击的不是她性格的上层结构，而是形成她性格的基础，即那些使她所接受的教育得以建立的原则。不仅如此，虽然我极为钦佩这位才华横溢作家的天赋，并且经常引用他的观点，但是在我读到他露骨撩人的奇谈怪论时，就丝毫感受不到钦佩之情，而代之以无尽的愤怒。他对美德的侮辱让我眉头紧蹙，他优美的文笔带给我的微笑也因此荡然无存，我丝毫不能满意。这就是那位因大力倡导美德而主张摒弃一切和平手段，简直要把我们带回古代接受斯巴达式严格训练的作家吗？这就是那位热衷于歌颂激情的有益抗争、优秀品性的辉煌胜利，以及光辉灵魂自由翱翔的作家吗？他描写他可心的人儿迷人的双脚和诱人的风姿时，这些伟大的情操多么苍白无力啊！但现在我暂且不谈这个问题，我不想严厉指责这种突然泛滥的自负感，我只想说，任何抱着善意态度观察社会的人一定会对普通男女的爱情满意，因为这种爱情既不会因柔情万种而变得高贵，也不会因共同的知识渴求而得到加强。日常的家庭琐事足以提供愉悦的谈资，天真的抚爱缓解了无须运用智力或大量思考的劳作带来的辛劳；然而这种平凡的幸福景象在我们心中激起的情感，难道不是爱怜多于尊重吗？——这种情感跟我们看到儿童玩耍或动物嬉戏时的感受一样；但是在我们想到那些功德非凡的人在苦难中依旧战斗不止时，我们不得不肃然起敬，我们的思绪就被带到另一个世界，这里，理性战胜了感性。

因此女人或是被视为有道德的人，或是被视为软弱到必须完全依赖男人的优秀方可生存下去的人。

让我们来分析一下这个问题。卢梭宣称女人永远都不应该把自己看成是独立的人，她必须受恐惧的支配，发挥她天生的狡猾的才能，变成一个卖弄风姿的奴仆，这样才能更加吸引男人，成为情欲的对象，当男人需要放松时成为他更亲密的伴侣。卢梭自认为从天性中为自己的观点找到论据，甚至更进一步，旁敲侧击地暗示：人类一切品德的基石，即真理和坚韧，培养起来应当有所限制，因为对于女人的性格来说，服从才应当是她们需要一丝不苟永远铭记在心的最重要的一课。

简直一派胡言！何时才能出现一位拥有足够智慧的伟人，将因傲慢和肉欲而笼罩在这个问题上的迷雾一扫而尽呢？虽然女人体质比不上男人，但她们的品质也一定和男人相同，即使可能程度有别，否则品德将成为一个相对的概念；因此她们的行为应当建立在和男人相同的原则基础上，并具有同样的目标。

女人作为男人的女儿、妻子和母亲，和男人有父女、夫妻和母子的关系，她们的道德品质可以通过履行这些简单责任的方式来判断；但她们努力的目标，即那个伟大的目标，应当是展示她们的才华，树立自觉的高尚品德。她们可以努力使自己的道路充满乐趣；但是她们应该和男人一样，永远对生活并不能给不朽的灵魂带来永恒的快乐这一点。我并不是暗示男人或女人应当沉迷于抽象的思考或模糊的观点中不能自拔，以致忘记了摆在他们面前的爱和责任，而这两者正是孕育生命成果的途径；相反，我极力推崇爱和责任，我甚至还主张，只有严肃认真地对待它们，才能从中获得最大的满足。

也许认为女人因男人而生这一流行观点来源于摩西［7］富有诗意的故事；但是据推测，真正认真考虑过这个问题的人当中只有极少数相信夏娃真是亚当的一根肋骨，因此这个推论肯定是不成立的；或者至此我们只能承认，这个看法说明，男人从远古时期开始，就发现用实力来征服伴侣对自己有利，干脆捏造事实证明女人应该乖乖把脖子伸到轭上，甘受压迫，因为她整个人就是为男人的方便和享乐而存在的。

不要妄作结论，认为我意图颠倒世间万物的顺序。我已经承认，从身体的构成来看，男人似乎受上帝青睐，注定要比女人获得更大程度的美德。我这是针对男人整体来说的；但是我实在找不到理由表明男人和女人的品德本质上有何不同。如果美德事实上只有一个永恒不变的标准，那么如何区分不同美德的性质呢？因此如果我的推导过程没有纰漏，我必定坚决主张：所谓的不同美德都指向同一个简单的方向，正如上帝是唯一的一样。

如此说来，我们不应当将狡猾和智慧对立起来，将琐碎的牵挂和重大的奋斗对立起来，将美其名曰文雅的索然无味的软弱和只有伟大抱负才能激发的坚韧意志对立起来。

有人会告诉我，如果女人拥有这些精神力量，就会失去很多独属于女人的魅力，并且可能会引用一位著名诗人的观点来驳斥我离经叛道的主张。因为蒲伯［8］曾以全体男性的名义说：

当她接触到我们憎恨的任何事物时，

我们的愤怒带来的后果将无可预料。

这个警句将男人和女人置于何种地位我不做评判，留待公正的人士去定夺。现在我只想说明，我实在不明白为何女人应当受制于爱情和淫欲，永远处于屈辱的地位，难道她们真的都应该下地狱？

我知道对爱情发表不敬言论，是对情操和美好感情的严重背叛；但是我只是想从理性而非感性的角度，说出简单的真理。企图说服世人放弃爱情，如同从塞万提斯［9］的作品中剔除堂·吉诃德一样，是不可能，也是违背常识的；但是努力抑制这种骚动的情欲，证明不应该允许它破坏较其更加优越的力量，或者任其篡夺理智的支配权，这种努力，也许是正当的。

年轻时代是男女沉迷于爱情的时期；但是在无忧无虑尽情享乐的时候，应当为日后生命更重要的阶段做准备，那时理性思考将代替感性妄为。但是卢梭和那些步其后尘的男性作家们都热心地谆谆教导人们，整个女性教育应当只有一个目标，即取悦于男人。

请允许我和那些对人性有所了解却支持这个观点的人理论一番。他们是否认为婚姻会消除生活中的习俗呢？一生都受教导要取悦于人的女人很快就会发现，她的魅力就像残阳余晖，逐渐消逝，过了盛夏光年，青春不再，在和丈夫朝夕相处时，她已然不能在丈夫心中激起一丝涟漪。到那时她还会有足够的天赋自寻慰藉，挖掘她潜在的才能吗？或者我们是不是更有理由相信，她们会试图与别的男人寻欢，并且因为得到新的情人而被激情冲昏了头脑，忘记了她的爱情和自尊遭受的屈辱？当丈夫不再是至爱的时候——这个时候必然会到来——她取悦于人的欲望就会消退，或者变成痛苦的源泉；那时，也许是所有感情中最转瞬即逝的爱情，就会被嫉妒或虚荣替代。

现在我要谈谈那些受到原则或偏见约束的女人。她们虽然对男女私通深恶痛绝，可是仍然希望别的男人对她们献殷勤，以此证明她们被残忍的丈夫冷落了；不然她们就会日复一日地幻想情投意合的夫妇享受的幸福，直到变得满腹牢骚，身心俱疲。由此看来，取悦于人的绝妙艺术怎么会是一项非学不可的技巧呢？它只对情妇有用罢了。对于贞洁的妻子和认真的母亲来说，这种技巧不过是为品德锦上添花的装饰，而丈夫的爱情不过是让她的工作更轻松、生活更幸福的慰藉。但是，无论她的丈夫是爱她还是冷落她，她首先应当为自己赢来尊重，而不是把所有的幸福寄托在一个和她拥有同样人性弱点的人身上。

尊敬的格雷戈里博士也犯了同样的错误。我尊重他的用心，但是完全不能赞同他那篇著名的《给女儿的赠言》。

他建议她们培养对衣着打扮的爱好，因为他断言打扮是女人天生的爱好。他和卢梭都经常使用“天生”这个含糊不清的词，我不明白他们是什么意思。也许他们会告诉我，先身体而存在的灵魂本身就是爱好打扮的，并且把这种爱好带到一个新的肉体中，我会似笑非笑地听着，正如在人们对所谓的内在优雅高谈阔论时，我也是这种反应。但是如果他仅仅指运用天赋的能力就能产生这种爱好，我不能苟同。这种爱好绝不是天生的，和男人狂妄的野心一样，是由对权力的奢望催生的。

格雷戈里的主张远不止这些；他甚至推崇弄虚作假，建议天真无邪的女孩子隐藏自己的真实情感，不要兴高采烈地舞蹈，因为这时她的脚步会因激动而随心所欲，而她的举止应当不失检点。按道理和常识来说，为什么女人不能承认她可以比别人多做一点锻炼呢？或者换句话说，不能承认她有健全的体魄；为什么要压制她天真活泼的天性，还在暗地里告诉她，男人会从她的一举一动中作出她意想不到的结论呢？随那些浪荡公子妄下结论去吧！我希望明智的母亲不要对女儿灌输这种不妥当的警告，而抑制了女孩子年轻时应有的率性。“言为心声”，确实如此；一个比所罗门更聪明的人曾经说过，人的心地应当纯洁，不拘小节；即使是内心充满邪恶的人，如果谨慎小心，也不难做到这点。

女人应当努力净化内心；但是，如果她们的理智没有接受训练，就会完全凭感情行事和娱乐；她们因缺乏高尚的追求而无法放下日常的无足轻重的虚荣，也不能抑制炽热的激情，这种激情如同一根芦苇，稍有风吹草动就会左右摇摆，在这样的情况下，她们的心灵能够纯洁吗？为了赢得一个有道德的男人的感情，有必要弄虚作假吗？上天让女人天生体质不如男人；但是，为了赢得丈夫的感情，一个做妻子的，当她在履行女儿、妻子和母亲责任的时候，已经通过思想和身体的双重锻炼保持了天生的体力和思想的健全，难道还必须降低身份，玩弄手段，伪装病态的孱弱，来保持丈夫对她的感情吗？软弱也许会让男人心生爱怜，满足男人自大的傲慢，但是一颗渴求并且理应受尊重的心灵不会满足于救世主般高傲的抚爱。宠爱代替不了夫妻之间的情谊。

我承认，在帝王的后宫里，这些卖弄风情的手段是必不可少的；因为必须要刺激享乐主义者的胃口，才能防止他情绪消沉，表现冷漠；但是女人就如此胸无大志，欣欣然以此为乐？难道她们就这样无精打采地在极度享乐和百无聊赖中虚度光阴，而不坚持去追求合理的快乐吗？难道她们不想去实践那些为人类赢得尊严的美德，而让自己得到重视吗？当然如果一个女人只是把生命消磨在穿着打扮上面，以此来取悦一个倦怠的男人，缓解他的顾虑，这样的女人是没有不朽灵魂的。生活中正经的工作完成后，男人当然愿意从她的微笑和小把戏中得到乐趣。

此外，注重加强体魄、锻炼心智的女人，通过经营家庭和修习各种美德，会成为她丈夫的朋友，而非卑微的依赖者；如果她因拥有这些高贵的品格而赢得了丈夫的赞赏，就会发现没有必要隐藏自己的感情，或者不自然地装出冷漠的样子，以激发丈夫的情欲。如果追溯历史，我们将会发现杰出的女性既不是女人中最美丽的，也不是最温柔的。

大自然，或者更确切点说，上帝，把万事万物安排得恰到好处；但是男人却总在试图捏造各种事情，破坏上帝的杰作。我现在指的是格雷戈里博士的那篇文章，他建议妻子永远不要让丈夫知道她的感受或爱情的程度。这种刺激肉欲的预防手段，既荒谬又无益。爱情究其本质来说，就是转瞬即逝的。试图找到使爱情永恒的秘诀，就如同寻找点金石或者万能药一样荒唐；即使找到这个秘诀，这也是对人类毫无裨益，甚至是有害的。一位精明的讽喻家说的很好：真爱难求，真正的友情更是难上加难。

这是一个自明的真理，没有什么高深的缘由，稍加研究便会明白。

爱情是人人皆有的情欲，在爱情中，偶然和感性代替了选择和理性，大多数人都体会过爱情；现在没有必要谈论那些比爱情高尚或低微的情感。这种感情，很自然地因悬念和困难而加强，使理智脱离常规，激情得到推崇；但是，婚姻的保障会允许爱情的狂热渐渐消退，达到一种有益的温度，只有那些不够明智的人，无法用冷静自然的友谊、相互尊重的信任代替盲目的赞美和肉欲的喜好，才会把这种健康平和的状态看成是索然无味的。

这是，也必须是，自然而然的趋势。爱情之后必定是友谊或冷淡。这种规律似乎和人类精神世界中普遍适用的支配规律完全一致。激情能够激发行动、启迪心灵；但是目的达到后，这种激情就会沦落为纯粹的性欲，变成个人和瞬时的满足，而满足的心也会安于享乐。当一个男人为争得王冠奋斗时，尚拥有一定美德；但当他成功加冕之后，往往都会变成骄奢的暴君；况且，如果男人在年老以后仍像情人般对待自己的妻子，这个年老昏聩的男人就是被幼稚的任性和溺爱的嫉妒所俘虏，他忽略了人生的重大责任，将本应施与孩子以取得他们的信任的爱抚，浪费在他的大孩子——妻子的身上。

为了履行人生的责任，一个家庭里的男女主人不应当继续热烈相爱，以便能够精力充沛地致力于塑造良好的道德品质。我的意思是不应当沉溺在那些扰乱社会规范的感情之中，把本来可以用在其他方面的心思用在彼此谈情说爱上。从未被一件事情吸引的心灵缺乏充沛的精力——而当它长期被某一事情吸引时，就会变得软弱。

错误的教育、狭隘的缺乏教养的心灵以及很多性别歧视，往往使女人比男人更忠贞不渝；但是现在，我暂时不讨论这个问题。我要进一步提出我的观点，并且声明，不幸福的婚姻往往对于家庭是有利的，而被冷落的妻子一般都是最优秀的母亲，我并不是故作悖论。如果女人的心胸再开阔一点，那么这一结论几乎就永远成了必然的结果；因为这看起来像是上天通常的安排：凡是我们从现时的享乐中得到的，都必须从生活的宝库——经验中去除；当我们摘下了鲜花，纵情于享乐之时，我们就不可能同时拥有辛勤耕耘和智慧浇灌带来的丰硕果实了。人生的道路在我们面前展开，我们必须选择向左走或向右走；一个穿梭于各种享乐场合虚度人生的人，不应当抱怨自己得不到智慧或可敬的品格。

让我们暂时假设灵魂不是永生的，人的存在只是为了活在当下——我认为我们有理由抱怨，爱情就如孩童一时兴起的爱好一样，渐渐会变得索然无味，令人生厌。让我们吃喝玩乐谈恋爱吧，因为明天我们就会死去，这种说法实际上是合情合理的，也是人生的道理；除了傻瓜，谁愿意脱离现实去追求那个短暂的幻影呢？但是，当我们因心智不可思议的奇妙力量而心生敬畏时，我们就不屑于将希望和思想局限在相对平庸的活动范围之内，这种活动只是表面上看起来光辉而重要，因为它是跟无限的前景和崇高的理想联系在一起的，那我们还有什么必要在为人处世中虚假做作，我们还有什么理由去触犯神圣真理至高无上的尊严，来保全摧毁道德根基的虚伪的幸福呢？为什么女人要被那套卖弄风情的技巧毒害了心灵，以迎合好色之徒呢？为什么要阻止爱情蜕变为友情，或者在缺乏建立友情的根本条件时，蜕变为富有同情心的柔情呢？将真实的心境展露出来吧，让理性来教导情欲，让它服从必然性；或者让崇高的对道德和知识的渴望把理智从情感中解脱出来，这些情感如果不加以控制，将使人生的杯子里装满更多的痛苦而非甘甜。

我指的并不是与天才相伴而生的浪漫感情，谁又能折断爱情的双翼呢？但是，这种伟大的情感只忠于感情，并且自由发展，人生中微不足道的享乐是无法与其比拟的。那些因持久而著称的感情往往都是不幸的。这种感情的发展是由于双方不在一起，并且它具有忧郁的本质。他们对想象中朦朦胧胧的美丽心存希冀；但是一旦得以接触熟悉之后，男女之间的爱慕就可能会转变为厌倦，或者至少是冷淡，并给想象力以空间，开始新一轮的追求。根据这种观点，卢梭非常有风度地使自己精神上的情妇，艾洛伊斯，在生活日渐乏味的时候爱上了圣普乐；但这也不足以证明爱情的不朽。

格雷戈里博士关于美好爱情的忠告也出于同样的考虑。他建议女人，如果她已下定决心要结婚，就不要轻易产生爱情。但是他把这种和他以往忠告完全一致的决定看作是粗俗的，尽管它会支配她们的行为，格雷戈里还是真诚劝诫他的女儿们隐藏这种决心，似乎拥有人性中正常的情欲是不美好的。

多么崇高的道德说教！那些审慎卑微的灵魂一定会赞成这种说教，他们无法将自己的眼界扩展到目前狭小的生活圈子以外。如果培养一个女人精神方面所有的能力，只是因为这些能力与她对男人的依赖有关；如果她一旦有了丈夫，就认为自己人生的目标已经达到，并且毫不羞耻地引以为荣，满足于这顶微不足道的王冠，如果她心甘情愿匍匐在男人脚下，从事的只是动物界以内的活动，那就随她去吧；但是，如果她是为了她的崇高事业而奋斗，并且富有前瞻性，那就让她培养理性，不必停下来思考她注定要结婚的丈夫拥有何种性格。她不应拘泥于眼前的享乐，要下定决心去培养那种能使理性的人变得高贵的品质，而这样一个鲁莽粗野的丈夫也许会打击她的趣味，但扰乱不了她平静的内心。她不会为了适应丈夫的种种缺点来改造自己的灵魂，她会容忍这些缺点；丈夫的性格对她来说绝不是修得美德的障碍，仅仅是考验而已。

如果格雷戈里博士的评论只是限定于对永恒爱情和志同道合感情的浪漫期待上，则他应该会想到，在想象力以牺牲理性为代价而依然活跃时，我们的经验就会驱除掉那些他的忠告永远也无法阻止我们去追求的东西。

我承认下面这种情况经常发生：有些女人抱着浪漫的不合实际的美好情感，她们整天无所事事，幻想着自己幸福地和丈夫生活在一起，她们的男人对她们炽热的爱慕与日俱增，直到永远。但是她们结婚了也许和单身的时候一样憔悴，与一个不称职的丈夫在一起或许比期待一个好男人更为郁闷。我主张，一种合理的教育，更确切地说，一个有教养的头脑，可以让女人过着有尊严的单身生活；但是说她应当放弃培养个人的情趣，避免遭受丈夫突然的破坏，这就未免有点本末倒置了。说实话，如果一个人不能超脱于人生的各种得失，如果他不能打开获得快乐的新源泉（这些快乐完全来源于个人思考的力量），那么还需要高尚的情趣做什么。有品位的人，无论单身还是已婚，无一例外都会厌恶那些对于缺乏洞察力的人们毫无触动力的事物。我们的观点当然不能依据这个结论得出；但是就整体的享乐而言，情趣可以被算作是幸福的一种吗？

问题是，情趣带来更多的是痛苦还是快乐？这个问题的答案将会决定格雷戈里博士的劝告是否合理：他规定了一种奴隶制度，并且他没有试图用纯粹理性推导出来的对人类普遍适用的规则去教育有道德的人，这表明他这种做法是多么荒谬而专横。

举止温柔、宽容忍耐和逆来顺受，都是非常亲切的神圣品质，在高尚的诗篇中他们都被颂扬为上帝的品德；或者可以说，除了上帝宽厚怜悯和欣然宽恕的品质外，没有一种表现上帝仁行的品德能够更好地维系人类的感情。从这个角度看，“温柔”确实是结合了庄严伟大和谦逊屈就的所有特征；但是，在温柔只是顺从依赖的行事方式，只是急需保护的软弱爱情的后盾时，它表现出的是多么不同的状态；在爱情需要默默承受伤害时，温柔是宽容忍耐；在鞭打之下还要强颜欢笑，丝毫不敢做出反击。这幅图像描绘的卑怯景象，就是一个所谓杰出女人的肖像，而这是以社会公认的女性优秀品质为依据的，那些徒有虚名的理论家们竟然把女性的优秀品质和人类的优秀品质区分开。否则，他们［10］最好还是把那根肋骨归还原位，再造出一个将男人和女人融于一体的有道德的人，并且不要忘了赋予这个人所有的“谦卑的魅力”。

我们不清楚女人在没有婚嫁的情况下是如何生存的。因为尽管道德家们达成一致，认为生命的演变似乎证明男人受到各种情境的磨炼，要更好地为未来做准备，而他们却经常一致教导女人只要为当下着想即可。基于此，温柔、顺从以及阿谀奉承的感情被看作是女性最重要的美德。有位作家不顾不容违抗的自然法则公然声称女人多愁善感就是男性化的表现。她生来就是男性的玩物，他的拨浪鼓，无论何时，在男人停止理性的探索需要娱乐时，它就必须在他的耳边当啷当啷地响。

确实，从广义上来说，劝人温柔和蔼是极为明智的。一个意志脆弱的人是应当努力追求温和的。但是在宽容忍耐过度，变成是非时颠倒时，就不是一种美德了；不管在伴侣身上看到这种品德是如何简单，这种伴侣将永远被视为低人一等，使人感到一种味同嚼蜡的温柔，并且很快变成轻蔑。再者，如果劝告真的能使那些天生朽木不可雕的人变得温柔，那么社会秩序的改良就会指日可待了；但是正如我们马上就可证明的那样，这种不分青红皂白的建议只会导致矫揉造作，在不断改进的道路上丢掷一块绊脚石，妨碍了性情的真正提高，女人牺牲了真正的美德换来的只是徒有表面的优雅，并没有得到什么好处，虽然就个人来说她们可能在短短几年内赢得帝王般的统治地位。

作为一个哲学家，我怀着愤怒的心情阅读了男人用来粉饰他们侮辱女性言辞的种种看似有理的言论；作为一个伦理学家，我想问诸如“美丽的不足”“可爱的弱点”这些奇怪的自相矛盾的联想到底是什么意思？假如只有一个道德标准，只有一种男人的原型，根据穆罕默德灵柩的世俗传说［11］，女人似乎命中注定就是介于人兽之间的生物；她们既不像野兽那样有万无一失的天性，也不被允许用理智的眼睛注视一个完美的榜样。她们是为爱而生，不应该以寻求别人的尊重为目的，否则她们就会因具有男性的特征而被主流社会排除在外。

我们不妨从另一个角度来看这个问题。顺从的、懒惰的女人就一定是最好的妻子吗？让我们的讨论局限于目前的状况，我们可以看看这些软弱的女人如何履行她们的责任。这些女人因为获得了一些表面的成绩，加深了流行的成见，她们仅仅是为了丈夫的幸福而努力吗？她们浑身散发的魅力仅仅是为了愉悦丈夫吗？自幼就受消极服从观念熏陶的女人拥有足够的品行来相夫教子吗？事实完全不是这样。通过翻阅女性历史，我不得不同意那位刻薄的讽刺家所言，认为女性是人类最软弱和受压迫最多的性别。历史除了揭示女人地位低下的特点之外，还告诉我们什么？而又有几个女人从高高在上的男人可恶的束缚中得到解脱呢？这种女人太少了，让我想到了关于牛顿的一个绝妙的猜想——牛顿大概是一个精灵，偶然投入人世。顺着这条思路往下走，我不由想到了那些超越了社会为女性制定的规定而走上了特别道路的杰出女性，本是男人的灵魂，却错误地投胎拥有了一副女性的皮囊。假如在谈论灵魂时还区分性别是不合理的，则女人处于劣势地位一定是因为身体构造和男人不同；或是上帝在捏土造人时，给的火候不一样。

正如我一如既往所坚持的那样，我避免将两性集体做任何直接的比较，或者根据目前的状况，坦率地承认女人不如男人，但是，我坚持认为男人使女人更加低劣，直到女人堕落到理性生物正常标准以下。让她们的才能有用武之地，她们的品德得以发展，然后再确定女性整体在知识领域应当占有的地位。再次声明，我不只是为那少数杰出的女人寻求地位。

我们凡夫俗子很难预测，如果废除使我们举步维艰的专制主义，人类的发现和发展将会达到何种高度；但是，如果道德能够拥有更坚实的基础，则我就无须拥有预知未来的天赋，就可以大胆预言女人要么成为男人的朋友，要么成为他们的奴隶。我们也就不会像现在这样，分不清她到底是一个有道德的人，还是介于人兽之间的生物。但是，如果那时看来她们和禽兽一样，造出来就是供男人使用，那么他就会让她们安于缰绳束缚之下，而不再用空洞的赞扬来嘲笑她们了；或者，如果那时事实证明女性是有理性的，那么男人也就不会仅为了满足他的肉欲而阻碍她们的发展。他不会再用各种辞令来诱惑女人使自己的理智盲目屈从于男人的控制。讨论妇女教育问题时，他就不会叫嚣女人永远不应该拥有运用理智的自由，也不会建议那些像他一样修习人类道德品质的人，去做一个狡猾虚伪的人。

如果道德有永恒的根基，那么真理必然只有一个。任何牺牲真正意义上的品德来谋求眼前利益的人，以及那些以这种处事方式视为己任的人，都只是为了当下而活，他们不能被称作负责任的人。

这就是为什么诗人创作下面这个诗句时应当摒弃他的嘲讽和不屑：

如果软弱的女人误入歧途，

那么名人们的责任比她们更大。

因为如果女人永远不运用自己的理智，永远不能独立，永远没有自己独立的思想，或者永远无法感受理性意志的尊严（理性意志只向上帝屈膝，并且常常忘记宇宙中除了它自己以及它热烈关注的完美模范之外，还包括其他东西），永远不去追求那些转化成美德时可以效仿的品质，尽管在程度上它会战胜那颗因其狂喜的心灵，那么毫无疑问，女人就被困在坚不可摧的命运锁链上，无法挣脱。

我不想给人留下虚张声势的印象，因此如果我说当理智能够让女人清醒思考，如果她们真的有能力像理性生物那样处事，那么就不要把她们当奴隶对待，或者，像对待禽兽那样对待女人，在人类利用它们的时候，让它们完全受人类理智的支配；而是应当培养她们的心智，给她们以一定的有益而高贵的原则上的约束，通过让她们感觉到上帝是唯一可以依赖的对象，来获得自觉的尊严。像教育男人一样教育她们服从自然规律，而不是为了让女人更讨男人欢心而硬给道德加以性别区分。

再说，如果经验证明她们的智力、坚韧和刚毅无法在程度上和男人比拟，那么也应该让她们的品德在性质上与男人相同，虽然女人试图追求与男人同等程度的品德是徒劳无益的；这样男人的优越性即使不会表现得更明显，也会同样地清晰。真理是一项简单的原则，不容篡改，应当对于两性同样适用。现在规范的社会秩序也不会被颠覆，因为那时女性仅仅拥有理性给她安排的地位，玩弄手段不能带来男女平等，更不可能使男人屈从于女人。

这些观点也许可以称之为乌托邦般的幻想。感谢上帝，他让这些理论在我的灵魂上留下深刻的印记，并赋予我足够的智慧，让我敢于运用我的理智，直到我仅仅依赖上帝来获得品德的提升，我抱着愤怒的态度来对待那些奴役女性的错误观念。

我把男人作为我的同类来爱戴；但是无论他的权力是真正属于他的还是从别处篡夺的，他都不能把它强加到我的头上，除非某个人的理智值得我尊重；即使是那样，我也是服从于理性，而不是人。事实上，一个负责任的人的行为必须受到他自己理智的支配，否则上帝的绝对地位从何而来呢？

我还有必要详述一下这些显而易见的真理，因为女性似乎已经被孤立起来；她们被剥夺了那些使人类受益的品德，却还被粉饰以各种虚伪的优雅，使她们能够在短期里行使点专制的特权。爱情在她们的心中代替了所有其他更高贵的感情，她们唯一的目标就是使自己更加美丽，吸引男人的爱慕而非激起别人的尊重；而这个低劣的欲望，正如绝对君主体制里的奴隶性一样，毁灭了品格的所有力量。自由是美德之母，如果女人因为自己本身的原因成为奴隶，没有权利呼吸振奋人心的自由空气，她们就一定会像旅居异地的人一样郁郁寡欢，被看作是天然的美丽缺陷。应当铭记，只有她们是有缺陷的。

关于女性受统治的论点同样适用于男人。多数人总是受到少数人的奴役；那些丝毫不能辨别人类优秀品质的怪物却残暴地欺压着成千上万的同胞。为何拥有卓越才能的人要遭受如此的侮辱呢？皇帝们从整体上来看，在能力和品德方面，都比不上从普通百姓中选出来的同等数目的那些人，这难道没有得到大家普遍的赞同吗？但是他们曾经并将继续享有人们的尊崇，这种尊敬何尝不是对理性的侮辱呢？把一个尚在世的人供奉为神的国家不止一个。男人为了安享眼前的快乐而向强势力量屈服；女人不过是做了同样的事情，因此除非我们能够证明一个卑躬屈膝地放弃人类应得权利的廷臣不配做一个有道德的人，否则无法说明因为女性一直处在被奴役的地位，所以她们本质上比男人低劣。

残暴的力量一直统治着我们的世界，政治科学仍处在襁褓中，这一点从哲学家在传授对人类最有利的知识时有所顾忌就可看出，而正是这种知识决定了两性的区别。

关于这个话题我不想做更深入的探讨，我只是想得出一个明显的结论：当合理的政治体制得以传播自由之时，整个人类，包括女人，就会变得更为理智和高尚。

注释

［1］弥尔顿（John Milton, 1608—1674），英国杰出诗人、政论家、革命家，17世纪英国资产阶级革命参加者。——译者注

［2］即夏娃，《圣经》中第一个女人。——译者注

［3］培根（Francis Bacon, 1561—1626），英国杰出哲学家、科学家、历史学家。——译者注

［4］参见《圣经·创世记》第二、三章。——译者注

［5］格雷戈里博士（Dr. Gregory, 1724—1773），苏格兰有名的医学家，写有许多医学著作和一篇《给女儿的赠言》。——译者注

［6］索菲亚（Sophia）是卢梭名著《爱弥儿》中的女主人公。——译者注

［7］摩西，《圣经》故事中古代犹太人的领袖。——译者注

［8］蒲伯（Alexander Pope, 1688—1744），18世纪英国启蒙运动时期著名诗人。——译者注

［9］塞万提斯（Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, 1547—1616），西班牙伟大作家。堂·吉诃德是其名著《堂·吉诃德》中的主人公。——译者注

［10］参看卢梭和史韦登伯格的著作。——译者注

［11］指伊斯兰教徒死后，送葬时女人不能扶灵柩的风俗。——译者注

再论关于两性品格的流行观点

强壮的身体本来是英雄的优秀特性，但是现在却遭到了不公平的鄙视，甚至男人和女人都认为这无关紧要；女人这样认为，是因为它破坏了她们的阴柔气质和可爱的娇弱，而这些正是她们谋得特权的源泉；男人这样认为，是因为强壮的体魄看起来和一位有身份的绅士的品格不符。

男人和女人都从一个极端滑到了另一个极端，这很容易证明；但是首先应当注意到有种世俗的错误已经赢得了一些人的信任，并导致了一个错误的结论，错把结果当成了原因。

天资聪颖的人，往往因为潜心研究或不关注健康而伤害了自己的身体，他们热情的激烈程度是和智慧的活力相对应的，以至于剑刃伤了剑鞘，毁了自己的身体，这个事实几乎是人人皆知的，于是一些肤浅的评论家就会由此发挥，声称聪明人的体质都不好，或者用时兴的话来说，体质孱弱。但我相信，事实似乎正好相反；因为我经过周密的调查发现，思维的力量在大多数情况下总是和强壮的体魄同在的，我说的是天生的健全体质，而非从事体力劳动导致的头脑简单四肢发达，干这种体力劳动时大脑不是处于呆滞状态就是只能指挥双手。

普里斯特利博士［1］曾在他传记图表的前言中提到，大多数伟人的寿命都超过45岁。考虑到他们在钻研自己钟爱科学的时候，毫无顾忌地倾注他们所有的精力，他们废寝忘食地燃烧着生命之灯；抑或，考虑到当他们沉浸在诗意的梦境里，幻想充斥着视线，心灵受到了震撼，直到冥思引起的激情颤动了身体——这时他们幻想的东西，想象中的空中楼阁，才从他们疲惫的双眼中褪去——只考虑到这些，我们就可以推断这些人是拥有钢铁般体质的。莎士比亚不是用虚弱的手去抓住幻想的匕首，而弥尔顿也不是颤颤巍巍地带领魔鬼远离阴森沉闷牢狱的禁闭。这些不是乱七八糟的呓语，也不是神经病的病态发泄，而是丰富饱满的幻想，这种幻想以一种“美好的疯狂”状态四处漫游，而不会频繁地想到身体方面的限制。

我意识到了这个结论比人们设想我要谈论的内容更进一层；但是我信奉真理，并坚持我的第一个观点，我承认身体素质的差距确实给予男人一种天生的优越性；而这也正是男人优越性的唯一的有力证据。但我仍坚持认为，男人和女人的知识，正如他们的品德一样，应当拥有同样的本质，虽然程度可能有所差别。女人，既然被视为有道德有理性的人，应当奋力以同样的方式追求人类的美德（或者说完满），而不应该在接受教育时，被当成一个想象中的半个人，如卢梭笔下所述的怪物那样。

但是如果体力是男人理所应当拿来夸耀的东西，女人为何如此执迷不悟，以自己的缺点为荣呢？卢梭曾经为她们提出了一个貌似可信的理由，而这个理由完全是一个异想天开的人对由美妙感觉得到的印象加工后提出来的；他认为女人这样就可能真正有一个托辞，屈服于一种天然的欲望，又不会违反她们浪漫谦逊的规范，从而满足了男人的自傲和放荡。

女人受到这些观点的蒙蔽，时不时会吹嘘她们的弱点，并利用男人的弱点来巧妙地获得权利；她们甚至会以不正当手段得到的权势为荣，因为她们就像土耳其的傲慢权贵一样，比君主拥有更多的实权；但是她们为了暂时的满足牺牲了品德，为了瞬间的胜利牺牲了一生的尊严。

如果将世界分成国家，将国家进一步划分成家庭，统治这个世界的是由理性力量制定的法律的话，那么女人以及暴君都不会拥有现在这么大的权力；但是进一步对比我们就会发现，在争权夺利的过程中，她们的品行堕落了，而淫荡充斥着整个社会。大多数人被少数人踩在脚下。在此，我斗胆断言，除非妇女接受更加合理的教育，否则人类美德的发展和知识的进步还会持续遭受阻碍。如果承认女人不只是为了满足男人的欲望而生，也不是为了成为照料男人饮食起居的高级奴仆，那么那些真正关注女性教育的父母关心的首要问题即使不是加强孩子们的体质，至少也不要用“美丽”“女性的优点”等错误的观念来摧残她们的躯体；也不可以使女孩子受到这种致命观点的毒害，妄想通过各种推理过程，一个缺点能够如发生化学变化般变为一个优点。

……

即使女性天生比男性软弱已经得到证明，那请问她为何还应当努力使自己变得比原来更软弱呢？这种观点是对常识的侮辱，并且带着情欲的味道。我们希望在这个开明的年代，质疑丈夫的神圣权利和质疑君主的神圣权利一样，不会带来危险；也许我们的信念不能让诸多吵闹的争论者满意，但是在任何流行偏见遭到攻击时，智者就会思考，任由那些没有头脑的心胸狭隘的人对改革肆意抨击。

那些试图培养女儿拥有真正高贵品格的母亲一定要不顾无知者的嘲讽，采取一种和卢梭动用一切虚假动人的修辞和哲学上的诡辩推荐的方法完全相反的教育方案，因为他的雄辩使荒谬的言谈看起来合情合理，而他草率的结论即使没有说服，也会迷惑那些无力反驳它们的人。

在整个动物世界中，几乎所有幼小的生物都需要不断锻炼，同样由此可知，儿童应当在各种无害的嬉戏打闹中度过童年时期，以此锻炼手脚，不需要大脑给出什么精细的指令，也不需要保姆一刻不离的照顾。实际上，孩子照顾自己，是第一项锻炼运用理智的活动，正如愉悦当下的小发明会拓展想象力一样。但是这些自然的伟大构思，遭到了错误的溺爱和盲目热情的破坏。孩子一刻也没有自主行动的自由，女孩尤其如此，因此逐渐养成了依赖性。这样，依赖性就成了孩子的天性。

为了保持个人美貌——女人的荣耀——她的四肢和能力所受的束缚比中国的裹脚布带来的约束更大，男孩子在户外玩耍嬉闹时，她们只能听从宣判，过着久坐的生活，这种生活让她们肌肉衰竭，思维钝化。卢梭的意见，后来又得到了几个作者的拥护，认为女孩天生，也就是说从她们出生起，接受教育之前，对娃娃、打扮和聒噪有一种天生的爱好，这些观点太愚蠢了，我懒得反驳。一个女孩，被判定要连续坐着长达几个小时，听那些没文化的保姆无聊的闲谈，或是整天坐在母亲的化妆室里看她梳妆打扮，她要加入谈话很自然；她会模仿母亲或者阿姨，以她们打扮她的方式为布娃娃打扮聊以自娱，可怜天真的孩子，这种结果是再自然不过的了。最能干的人也很少会有本事不受周围环境的影响；如果记录天才事迹的书页不可避免地会受到时代偏见的影响，那女性，像国王们一样，也总是通过错误的方式看待事情，就更应该理解了。

通过这种方式，我们就可以很容易为女性特别喜爱打扮找到理由，而无须假定这是为了取悦她们依赖的男人。简而言之，认为女孩天生就爱卖弄风骚十分荒诞，而认为一种和繁衍后代冲动相关的自然欲望早就存在，甚至早于不正当的教育方式，通过煽动想象力过早地激发了这种欲望之前就已存在，实在是太不合理了。卢梭这样睿智的观察家要不是习惯了使理性屈从于好奇的心态，使真理顺从于他喜爱的悖论，是不会有这种观点的。

但是对于一个成功地为灵魂不朽激烈争辩的人来说，为心灵加上性别的区分是多么不符合他的原则啊。但是当真理成为假想的障碍，它是一道多么虚弱的屏障啊。卢梭尊重——近乎崇拜美德——但是他放纵自己，沉迷于情色。他的想象力经常使他的性欲之火熊熊燃烧；但是，为了调和他对自制、坚韧和其他英勇品德的尊重，一个像他那样的人是不可能冷静推崇这些美德的，他试图颠倒自然法则，并且提出一套暗藏危害、玷污至高智慧的学说。

他没有去观察现实生活中的例子，就试图通过他的那些荒谬的故事证明女孩天生注重打扮自己，这些故事配不上我们的鄙夷。

……

可以说我观察孩提时期女孩子的机会比卢梭更多，我仍能想起我自己的感受，并且我总是不断地观察我周围的女孩子。我敢断定，如果女孩子没有因为一成不变的生活精神沮丧，没有因为虚伪的害羞而丢失天真无邪，那么她一定会蹦蹦跳跳，活泼精明，而且布娃娃永远不会吸引她的眼球，除非禁闭的生活剥夺了她其他的选择。总之，如果不是家长在自然表现出男女差别之前不断灌输这个概念，男孩和女孩是可以很友好地在一起玩耍的。我还要进一步声明，在我的观察范围内，多数表现理性、智慧超群的女性都是得以无拘无束地发展，这也是不可置疑的事实，正如有些优雅的女智者暗示的那样。

童年和青年时期不注意身体导致的恶果超出了我们的想象——身体的依赖自然就会导致精神上的依赖；如果女人大部分时间都花在防御或忍受疾病折磨上，她怎么能成为好妻子或好母亲呢？如果关于美貌的错误观念和多愁善感的虚伪描述早年就侵蚀了一个女人的行为动机，我们如何期待她能意志坚定地努力增强体质、免于沉溺于各种伤身的放纵行为当中呢？大多数男人有时候不得不忍受身体的不适，或者和恶劣天气抗争，但是优雅的女性，简直已经成了她们自己身体的奴隶，她们甚至不以为耻反以为荣。

我以前认识一位身体孱弱的时髦女性，她对于自己的虚弱体质和多愁善感的神经异常自豪。她认为，挑剔的口味和很小的食量是人类完美的高级状态，并以之为行为规范。我曾经看到这位可怜的虚荣女人把人生中一切责任抛到九霄云外，扬扬自得地躺在沙发上，吹嘘着她没有什么好胃口，以此证明身体虚弱导致了她多愁善感，或者是多愁善感让她身体虚弱；将她那套愚蠢可笑的理论说明白太难了。但是就在那时，我看到她在侮辱一个可敬的老年妇人，这个老妇人因为突然的横祸而不得不依赖这个女人卖弄的施舍，其实，老妇人境况尚佳的时候还帮过这个女人一把。如果一个人像西巴里特［2］人那样沉溺于奢靡享乐，仍未丧尽各种品德，或者从未受到道德戒律的熏陶（这种道德戒律虽然可以防御罪恶，但是委实不能替代心灵培养），她会变成这种软弱而堕落的人吗？

……

世界各地的女人都处于这种可悲的境地；因为要保持她们的天真，而天真只是无知的比较温和的说法，人们不让她们看到真理，而在她们的能力得到发展之前，就培养她们表现出一副虚伪的性格。女人从小就受教导，美貌是女人得以统治一切的权杖，心灵要以身体为准，在囚困它的金丝鸟笼周围转悠，只为了表达对这座囚笼的溢美之词。男人有各种工作和追求来吸引他们的注意力，因此造就了他们心胸开阔的性格，但女人只关注一件事情（美貌），总是将精力耗费在自己身上最微不足道的地方，很少能将视野拓展到当前享乐以外去。男人的自大和情欲，以及女人自己如同暴君般统治下的欲望，使她们处在一种奴役状态，一旦她们的理智从这种奴役中解放出来，我们也许就会惊奇地发现她们的弱点。请允许我在这个问题上深入阐述。

《圣经》中有段寓言描述魔鬼四处游荡寻找可以吞噬的人，如果我们认同这样一个邪恶灵魂的存在，则败坏人类品行最有效的方法莫过于赋予一个人绝对的权利。

这个论点可以派生出几个分论点。出身、财富和一切使人无须运用智慧就可以凌驾于其同伴之上者的外在优势，实际上都使之堕落到不如别人。根据其软弱程度，他们将被各种富有心计者玩弄，直到这些傲慢的怪物失去所有的人性特征。而那一群如绵羊般盲从的人心甘情愿地成为这种人的从众，这种奇怪的现象只能归咎于后者贪图眼前享乐的欲望和有限的智力水平。受着奴隶般依赖性的教育，精力因奢靡和懒惰而日渐衰竭，我们该从哪去寻找那种敢于挺身而出维护人权，或者为有道德的人寻求特权的人呢（这是有道德的人达到卓越的唯一途径）？人们受着君主和侍臣们的奴役，这种奴役阻碍了人类思想的发展，至今仍未被废除，世界从这种奴役中解放出来还遥遥无期。

因此男人在夸耀权势的时候，就不要再用那些暴君和贪婪的侍臣们用过的论调，错误地主张，女人应该受奴役，因为她们一直被奴役着。但是，男人受合理法制的统治，享受着他的天赋自由，而如果女人不能与之同享自由，那就让男人鄙视女人吧；在那个光辉时代到来之前，男人在抨击女人的愚蠢时，请他们也不要忘记自己的愚钝。

确实，女人通过不正当的手段取得权力，或者通过做一些不道德的事情，培养恶习来获得权力，她们显然丧失了理智安排给她们的地位，不是变成卑鄙的奴隶就是成为暴虐的君王。她们在争夺权力时丧失了所有的天真浪漫、心灵的尊严，她们表现得和那些我们观察到的通过同样的方法取得权贵的男人一样。

现在到了变革女性行为方式的时候了，为她们争取失去的尊严，使她们，作为人类的一部分，通过改变自己进而改变世界。该是将不容改变的道德和当地习俗划分界限的时候了，如果男人是半人半神，那我们为什么还要服侍他们？如果女性灵魂的尊严和禽兽一般值得质疑，如果她们的理性不足以指导她们的行为，而她们又不像禽兽一般拥有万无一失的本能，那她们毫无疑问成了所有生物里面最悲惨的了。她们就只好屈膝于命运的铁蹄之下，无奈地承认自己是上帝造出来的一个“美丽的缺陷”了。但是为上帝把大多数人都造成既负责任又不负责任的样子，寻求一些生硬的无可辩驳的理由，目的是为了证明上帝如此对待她们是正确的，想必即使是最机智的诡辩家也会因此困惑不已。

……

真希望女人能对他们的丈夫倾注感情，这种感情赖以存在的基础应当和支撑忠诚的根基相同，天底下除此之外没有其他坚实的基础了——因为她们务必提防那种欺骗性的感情；感情很多时候都只是肉欲的傀儡。因此我认为，女人从幼年时期开始，就应当要么像东方王子那样被隔离，要么就接受恰当的教育，培养她们独立思考和行事的能力。

为什么男人总是在这两种想法之间徘徊不决，并且期待不可能发生的事情呢？他们为什么期待一个奴隶有道德，期待一个受文明社会制度戕害变得软弱（如果我们不称之为邪恶）的人拥有道德呢？

我心里很清楚，要想彻底清除好色之徒培植的根深蒂固的偏见需要很长时间；同样，要想让女人相信在受到娇柔这个词的蛊惑时，刻意培养甚至装出一副软弱的样子的做法，是极其违反她们本质利益的；或是让世人相信，导致女人邪恶和愚蠢的毒瘤（如果有必要使用一些比较缓和的符合习惯的同义词），是对美——更确切地说是容貌美的色情崇拜；要达到这些目标都是需要一些时间的。因为一位德国作家曾经敏锐地观察到，漂亮的女人是情欲的对象，这一点得到了各类男人的一致赞同；而一个因为表现出了智慧的魅力而激发了更多崇高情感的有教养的女人，也许会受到那些以满足情欲为乐的男人的忽略或冷淡。我预料明显有人会反驳我——如果男人同他以前一样一直是个不完美的存在，则他沦为欲望的奴隶也无可厚非；而那些女人为了满足一种主要的欲望而谋取最大的权力，她们的堕落即使不是道德上使然，也必然是身体使然。

我承认，这个反对意见有一定道理；但是尽管有“像上帝那样纯洁”这样一种崇高的戒律，貌似男人的品德并没有受到唯一能够限制这些品德的上帝的约束；而且他可以继续前进，而不去考虑沉溺于这种崇高的志愿是否会越出了他的范围。汹涌的波浪接到上帝指令：“你只能前进到这里，不许再向前跑；你们骄傲的波涛必须要止步于此。”奔驰的行星受到自然力量的约束，在其轨道内运转，而这种力量也制约着翻腾的浪花，使之不能前进。物质始终都是要屈服于支配一切的伟大神灵的。但是不朽的灵魂，不受机械定律的束缚，奋力从物质的枷锁中挣脱出来，它和上帝合作，试图用制约宇宙的永恒定律（在某种程度上这些定律是我们无法想象的）来指导自己的行为时，就不仅没有扰乱万物的秩序，反而帮助万物建立起秩序。

况且，如果女人接受的教育让她们依赖别人，也就是说让她们按照另外一个容易犯错的人的意志行事，而且盲从权威；那我们折腾到什么时候才能结束？那是不是应该把她们看作是拥有一块狭小领地的代理，而她们的行为是由一个不能免于谬误的高级法庭负责呢？

我们不难证明，这种代理会表现得跟受了恐吓的男人一样，迫使他的孩子和仆人都屈从于他暴虐的压迫。既然女人会毫无缘由地屈从，她们在教导子女和管理仆人方面没有一贯的准则，她们对人是好是坏，完全凭一时兴起；她们无法承受枷锁的重负时，就会强行将之转嫁到更加弱小人的肩上，并恶意地以此为乐，我们看到这一幕时，没有必要大惊小怪。

但是，让我们假设一个训练得服服帖帖的女人，嫁给了一个明智的男人。他决定她的判断力却不会让她感觉到受压迫的奴隶性，正如理性可以间接影响一个人，这个男人折射出来的光辉能够使她得体地安排事情，但是她终究不能保全她的庇护者的性命，他也许会撒手西去，留给她一大家人要养活。

双重责任落在了她的肩上；她要以父亲和母亲双重的身份来教育子女，要培养他们的品行，还要保护他们的财产。但是，哎呀！她从来没有为自己想过，或者依照自己的意志行事。她只学会了取悦男人，优雅地以他们为生；但是现在她被孩子所累，如何才能找到另外一个保护人——一个丈夫来扮演理性的角色呢？一个理性的男人（因为我们现在不是在说故事，而是从实际出发）也许会认为她是一个温顺可爱的人儿，但是世界上更有姿色的女人比比皆是，他为什么要为了爱情娶一个拖家带口的女人呢？那她要如何是好呢？她要么很轻易地被一个卑鄙的企图通过结婚发财的男人钓上了钩，将父亲留给的子女的遗产拱手相送，变得十分凄惨；要么成为失意不满和盲目放纵的牺牲者。她无力教育子女，又无法为自己赢得他们的敬重（如果一个人本身不值得尊敬，则即使他身居要职，也不会得到人们的尊敬，这种说法并不是文字游戏），她追悔莫及，却徒劳无益，于是在痛苦中郁悒而终。即使她不贫困，但魔鬼的毒牙插入了她的灵魂深处，青春时代放荡不羁的恶习带给她的无尽悔恨挥之不去，随她一起埋入地下。

我并没有渲染什么；相反，这种情形非常可能出现，每一个善于观察的人一定亲眼目睹过类似的场景。

当然我是理所当然地假定一切顺利，然而经验表明，盲人就算走在熟悉的路上，也可能会掉进水沟。但是我们可以假定（这并不是一个完全不可能的猜想）一个只会取悦他人的人肯定能在讨好别人时得到快乐；这对于她天真的女儿来说，就算不是一个坏榜样，也是一个多么愚蠢的榜样啊！母亲会在卖弄风情时败下阵来，她们不但不能和女儿和睦相处，相反她会对自己的女儿怒目相视，因为她们成了自己争风吃醋的对手，而且是最残酷的对手，而且人们会拿女儿和她比较，使她相形见绌，她从未想过要在理性的长凳上占有一席之地，而现在她又被赶下了美丽的宝座。

要描述这样一个家庭主妇带给这个家庭的痛苦和轻微的罪恶，并不需要生动的笔墨或漫画家清晰的勾勒。但她也只是按照卢梭的那一套理论做了女人应该做的事情罢了。人们永远不会责备这样的女人有男人气，或者行为超出了自己的范围；而且，她还遵守了他的伟大戒律中的另外一条重要准则，小心谨慎地保护她的名誉免遭玷污，她会被看作是优秀的女人。可是哪一方面她能称得上优秀呢？确实，她无须挣扎，因此就可以免于犯下滔天大恶，但是她怎样去履行自己的责任呢？责任！其实她整天梳妆打扮、照料自己虚弱的身子都来不及，更别谈责任了。

至于宗教，她从来不敢擅自做决定；就像一个依赖别人的人应该做的那样，她严格遵守那个看着她长大的教堂的规矩，虔诚地相信有更聪明的人已经把一切安排妥当；无疑，永不质疑是她的完美优点。因此她会按时交纳她那份十分之一的薄荷和小茴香子［3］，她对上帝感恩戴德，庆幸自己不像其他女性那样。这就是良好教养带来的喜人结果！这就是男人伴侣应有的美德！

为了缓解我的情绪，我必须描述另一番景象。

现在我们假设有个女人，拥有差强人意的智力水准（我作此假设，是因为不想把普通人排除在外），她的身体由于经常锻炼而充满活力，同时她的思维也不断打开，逐渐发展，她深谙人生的道义责任，也知晓人类美德和尊严的意义。

通过履行应尽的义务，她养成了优秀的品质；她因爱而婚，却没有丧失小心谨慎；她的眼光不局限于夫妻幸福生活的琐事，因此得到丈夫的尊重，而无须通过玩弄卑劣把戏博取丈夫的欢心，试图挽救行将熄灭的爱情之火。当情人变成熟悉的枕边人，当友情和忍耐代替了狂热的爱情，爱情之火注定会熄灭。这是爱情的自然灭亡，家庭的安宁不会因挽救爱情的努力而破坏。我假设这个男人也是品德高尚的，否则这个女人还需要更多的独立品质。

但是，天生嫉妒，拆散了这对璧人。她变成了寡妇，甚至生活上都捉襟见肘；但是，她并不悲惨！她自然会悲痛欲绝；但是时间抚平了悲伤，她凄然地接受了命运的安排，一心扑在子女身上，比以前更加爱护他们，企盼将他们抚养成人，这种深情为她的母爱抹上了一丝神圣的英雄色彩。她希望，不仅她的子女们目睹了她的贤惠和劳作（他们现在是她一切慰藉的源泉，而他们的赞颂就是她的生命）；而且她那因过度悲伤而心不在焉、同时又受到激发的想象力，还让她抱着深情的希望，希望那双她用颤抖的双手合上的眼睛也能够看到，她如何克制了内心所有骚动的情欲，履行了她既做父亲又做母亲的双重责任。她因不幸而成了英雄，她在自然的情欲发展为爱情之前，就将其扼杀在摇篮里，并且在女人一生最丰满的阶段忘记了自己是女人——忘记了让人觉醒的热情带来的快乐，这种热情受到激发很可能会重新燃烧。她不会再想到取悦他人，而她自觉的尊严也使她不会因为她的行为应得的赞扬而骄傲。她的爱是她的子女，她最光明的希望绝非是那个坟墓，虽然她时常会幻想一下那个地方。

我想我看到了她的孩子们环绕左右，他们都来报答她的养育之恩。孩子们聪明伶俐的目光和她的目光相遇，他们红润的脸颊上挂满了健康天真的微笑，孩子长大后，他们对母亲感恩的照料减轻了她生活上的操劳。她得以亲眼在孩子身上看到，自己根据原则努力培养的各种美德成为他们的习惯，她目睹了孩子们培养了坚强的性格，他们时刻铭记母亲的榜样，能够经受得住逆境的考验。

在这样完成了人生的使命之后，她静静地等待着死亡的到来，等待长眠于地下。她从坟墓中升入天堂的时候可以和上帝说：看，你给了我一千银币，现在我有五千银币！［4］

我想用几句话总结一下我刚刚所说的内容。在这里，我已经下了战书，我不承认美德有性格差别，就连谨慎端庄也不例外。真理，按照我的理解，对于男人和女人来说必然是相同的；但是在诗人和小说家的生动描绘下，幻想中的女性品格却以牺牲真理和正直为代价，使得品德成为一个相对的概念，仅以功利性为基础，而对于这种功利性，男人却自命不凡，根据自己的利益，随心所欲地加以评判。

我承认，女性可能有很多不同的责任需要履行；但那都是人的责任，因此我坚决认为，指导履行这种责任的原则必须是没有区别的。

为了成为可敬的人，女人需要运用她们的理智，这是取得人格独立的唯一基础；我的意思说明白了，就是指她们只能听从理性的权威，而不应该成为舆论谦卑的奴才。

在上流社会里，遇到一个拥有杰出能力或有普通成就的人多么不易啊！在我看来个中缘由很简单，他们出生并生长的环境不正常。人的性格都是由个人或阶级所从事的活动塑造的；如果人的才智不因需要接受磨炼，那就永远处在不开化阶段，无法发展；这个说法对于女人也同样适用；因为她们很少做正经的事情，对于享乐的追求使她们养成了卑微的性格，这就是为什么贵妇人的社交场合都如此无聊。同样的原因也导致她们缺乏坚定的意志，这种缺乏迫使她们涌向喧嚣的享乐和虚伪的激情，直到虚荣取代了一切社会情感，而在她们身上也丝毫看不到人性的痕迹。目前组织起来的市民政府带来了这样一种恶果：财富和女性的软弱都导致了人类的堕落，而且出于同样的原因；但是如果承认女人是有理性的人，就应该鼓励她们去追求那些属于她们的美德，因为一个理性的人，如果不通过自己的努力去争取什么，那他怎么能赢得大家的尊重呢？

注释

［1］普里斯特利博士（Dr. Priestley, 1733—1804），英国科学家、哲学家，当时英国进步组织“革命协会”的领导者。——译者注

［2］西巴里特（Sgbarite），意大利南部古城，据传当地居民喜爱奢侈享乐，因此引申为不务正业、安于享乐的人的别名。——译者注

［3］基督教实行的什一税，每年缴纳货物的十分之一，作为信徒上缴给教堂的年赋。——译者注

［4］见《圣经·新约》“马太福音”25章14—30节。——译者注

关于使女人沦入堕落状态原因的探讨

女人究竟是天生软弱，还是受到客观环境中各种因素的共同作用而堕落，我想，已经很明白了。但我只是想把这种立场，和我经常从那些拥护贵族政体的聪明人口中听到的结论做一对比：他们说，不要把普通民众太当回事，否则那些甘受驱使、阿谀奉承的奴隶就会意识到自己的重要性，抛开他们的镣铐。他们进一步发表评论，如果他们只需抬头就可甩掉束缚，一定是处处都受压迫；他们不追求自己应得的权力，而是甘心舔食着尘土，说道：“我们尽情吃喝吧，因为明天我们就会死去［1］。”以此类推，女人堕落也同样是受贪图眼前享乐这一习性的驱使，最终她们没有足够的品德争取到自由，可她们对此却不屑一顾。我必须说明得更清楚一点。

大家一致赞成心灵的培养和性别无关，但女性在智力方面不如男人这个问题，却从未被人忽略过。女人只是拥有“绝对的可爱”，给予女人的理性却是微乎其微的；既然不承认她们拥有天才和判断力，我实在想不明白还有什么可以代表智慧了。

灵魂不灭的精义（如果我可以这样说的话）就在于人类理性的可完善性；因为，如果一个人生来完美，或当其步入成年时，一股知识的浪潮汹涌而至，使之豁然开朗，不致犯任何错误，我就会怀疑在其肉体分解之后，灵魂是否还将存在。但是依目前的情况来看，凡是人类道德上大家讨论之后仍然悬而未决的，同时让知识渊博的思想家和洞察力非凡的智者都困惑不解的难题，是我建立灵魂不朽信仰的依据。因此理智归根结底，是推动进步的一种原动力，更确切地说，是一种分辨真理的原动力；每个人都拥有一个理性的世界。可能理性程度因人而异，在某些人身上表现得比较明显，但理性如果是来自于神的力量，是连接人和造物主的纽带，那么所有人拥有的理性一定是性质相同的；因为如果一个人不能通过运用理智的力量日趋完美，那他的灵魂上又怎么会有上帝的印记呢？但是由于精心打扮而风姿绰约的女人，用迷人的外表来使男人开心，“他可以体面地和她谈情说爱”，但是女人的灵魂却不能拥有理智，男人总是挡在她和理智之间，人们总是认为她天生就应该通过一个巨大的媒介看世界，她也不会深究。但是抛开这些奇怪的言论，将女人当作一个整体来看，可以把她看成任何东西，但就不要当成男人的一部分，让我们来探究，她到底有没有理性。让我们暂时假定她有，则她就不仅仅是为了安慰男人而存在，而女性也不会破坏人类的品格。

男人犯有这样的错误，也许是因为他们看待教育的视角不对；他们不把教育当作帮助一个人走向完美的第一步，只是认为教育是为了更好的生活。我必须称这种态度为感觉论的错误，在这种错误基础上建立起了一个关于女性作风的错误体系，这个体系剥夺了整个女性群体的尊严，将女人，不论美丑，和那些只能点缀大地的鲜花归为一类。这一直是男人们的论调，甚至连那些智慧超群的女人，因为害怕失去男人期待的那种女性气质，也对此应声附和。因此，严格来说，就是否认女性拥有理智；为了生存，女人的本能升华为聪明和狡猾，代替了理智。

归纳总结各种思想的能力，即从个别的例子中概括出全面的结论的能力，对于一个不朽的灵魂来说，是唯一能称得上是知识的能力。对现象的观察，不尝试作任何解释，也许可以作为生活的常识保留，虽然是以极不完满的方式存在；但是当灵魂离开肉体时，我们是否保留了些什么来为灵魂遮风挡雨？

人们不仅认为女性没有这种能力，而且作家们，除了极个别的人，坚持说这种能力是和女性的性格不符的。如果男人能证明这个说法，我就承认女人是为男人而生。但是我要事先声明，这种深度的归纳总结的能力，对于男人女人都不常见。但是对这种能力的训练是真正意义上的对智慧的培养；而所有原因的共同作用，使得在女性身上培养理智比在男性世界里更加困难。

这个主张自然而然地把我引到这一章的主要内容；现在我要谈谈那些导致女性堕落、使她们无法对观察的现象归纳总结的原因。

我不必回到遥远的古代史料中追溯女性的历史，我只要承认女性一直以来，或是奴隶，或是暴君，并且这两种状态都同样阻碍了女性理智的发展就已足够。在我看来，似乎女性的各种愚蠢行径和恶劣行为主要都来源于心胸狭隘；而国民政府的制度也在培养女性理性的道路上设下了不可逾越的障碍；可是这是培养美德的唯一根基。富人们也面临着同样的障碍，因此他们也要承受同样的后果。

有句格言叫“需求乃发明之母”，这也可应用到美德上。美德是后天培养的，并且必须以牺牲享乐为代价才能获得；如果一个人没有经历磨难，心胸狭隘，意志脆弱，如果没有现实的需要迫使他追求知识，谁愿意放弃唾手可得的快乐呢？为了生活上的需要而操劳的人是幸福的，因为这种操劳可使他们不至于懈怠，而被那些耗费人精力的恶习所害。如果男人和女人从出生起就被放置在热带地区，正午炽热的阳光直射在他们身上，那么他们怎么能在思想上做好充分的准备，履行人生的责任呢，更不要说去享受使他们飘然欲仙的激情了。

从目前的社会状况来看，享乐已经占据了女人生命的主要内容，长此以往，我们无法期待这些软弱的人能有什么作为。她们从自然界第一位“美丽的缺陷”［2］那里直接继承了美貌带来的王权，为了维持她们的权利，放弃了运用智力能够带给她们天赋权利，宁可选择做短命的女王，也不愿意费神于源自平等的清醒的快乐。她们因为地位低劣而意气风发（这话听起来非常矛盾），她们经常依仗自己是女人要求别人对之服服帖帖，虽然她们应当从经验中学会：那些以无可挑剔的恰到好处的态度，随意向女性表达无礼的崇拜，并以此为荣的男人，往往是最有可能践踏和鄙视女人视若珍宝的那些弱点的男人。

……

我以关切的心情写道，啊，为什么女人要屈尊接受陌生人这种勉强的殷勤和尊敬呢？这种殷勤和尊敬与人性规范和文明礼貌规定的人与人之间的礼尚往来不同。为什么她们领会不了，她们处在“美貌的特权如日中天”时，被男人像女王般地供着，但最终只能被虚伪的尊崇欺骗，直到她们放弃或不想再享有她们天生的权利？随后她们就会像鸟雀一样被关在笼子里，无所事事，偶尔修饰一下自己的羽毛，假装很有威严地从笼子的一头踱到另一头。确实，她们可以不劳而获，丰衣足食，但是她们为此牺牲了健康、自由和美德。然而，人世间有谁拥有足够坚强的意志，愿意放弃这些恩赐的特权呢？又有谁，能够拥有冷静理智的尊严，超越世俗舆论的束缚，敢于以人类本质的天赋权利为骄傲呢？当世袭的权利扼杀了人的感情，把理性消灭在萌芽状态时，做这种期待是徒劳无益的。

男人的激情就是这样把女性放到王位上，我担心在人类变得更理智之前，女人会继续利用这种她们不费吹灰之力就得到的不可置疑的特权。她们会面带微笑，是的，她们笑得出来，尽管她们会听到这样的声音：

美丽的王国里没有中间道路，

女人不是奴隶，就是国王，

一旦不受崇拜必遭唾弃。

问题是她们首先得到的是崇拜，也不会想到有朝一日会遭唾弃。

特别是路易十四，他在社会上树立了弄虚作假的风气，并用华而不实的方法，让整个国家跟着他受累；他狡诈地建立起一条专制枷锁，让全体民众尊重他的王权，拥护他的统治，以获取个人私利。他用一种幼稚的殷勤奉承所有女性，女人在他统治期间获得了贵如王公的地位，但这些对理智和美德都是致命的。

国王永远是国王，女人永远是女人。国王的权威和女人的色情是他们之间不变的主题和合理的交换物。我承认，对于情人，她应当如此，而她的敏感自然会让她竭力激发情感，但不是为了满足虚荣心，而是为了使心灵愉悦。我不认为这是卖弄风情；这是未加修饰的自然冲动。我反对的只是没有爱情的性爱征服欲。

……

女人因为接受一些微不足道的殷勤而一步步走向堕落，我很为她们感到惋惜。男人认为向女人献这种殷勤很合适，实际上，他们正是通过这种侮辱别人的方式维护他们自己的优越地位。向一个地位不如自己的人低头，并不是屈尊。当我看到一个男人迫不及待地万分庄重地帮女人拾起手帕或关上门时，其实这位女士仅需走一两步就可以自己办到，我不禁觉得这些礼节是那么滑稽可笑，我甚至都无法控制自己不至于笑出声来。

适才有个疯狂的想法从我的心底涌现，飞入我的脑海，虽然它可能会让大家笑掉大牙，我还是不得不说。我诚挚地希望除了爱情激起的行为，社会上没有两性的区别；我完全相信，这种区别是女性软弱性格的根源；这就是为什么女人勤学才艺的时候会忽略理智的培养；同样的原因也解释了为什么女人偏爱优雅的性格胜于英勇的品质。

人类，包括形形色色的人，都希望受到某种爱戴和尊敬，而普通人总是会为了完成愿望走捷径。对财富和美色的尊崇是最不容置疑和毫不含糊的，因此也最容易吸引庸俗民众的眼球。毫无疑问，一个人要想从普通人中脱颖而出，上升到显要地位，能力和美德是必需的，这自然就会导致这个臭名昭著的结果：中等阶层最富有道德和能力。男人因而有机会，至少在一个岗位上有尊严地为自己努力，这种努力能够真正地提升一个理性的人，使他拥有更高的社会地位；但是所有的女人，在她们的性格形成之前，处在和富人同样的境地，因为她们生来（我现在谈的是文明社会）就有一定性别上的优势；这些特权她们可以无偿享用，因此很少会有人想到去付出额外的努力，赢得少数上层社会人的尊重。

我们何时听说过，出身贫贱的女人因为自己伟大的才干和勇敢的品行，敢于要求别人尊重自己？我们从哪里可以找到这种女人呢？……女人，所谓的上流社会的女士们，当众不能受到驳斥，不能做体力活；如果她们具有任何品德的话，也只能是消极的品德，诸如耐心、温顺、好脾气和韧性等，这些品德和任何智慧的有效发挥都是不相容的。另外，因为女人生活起居大多数时候都是在一起，她们很少有绝对独处的时候，因此她们更多地是受到别人情感的影响，而不是自己感情的支配。要给予愿望以热情的力量，确保想象力扩大目标，使之变为自己最想要的东西，那么独处和思索是必需的。对于富人来说也是如此；他们无力充分考虑远大的理想来获得坚强的性格，而这种理想必须依靠热情的思索和冷静的调研才能得到，因此他们无法做出举足轻重的决定。

……

在社会的中级阶层，男人在年轻时代是为了未来的职业做准备，但婚姻不是他们生活中的大事；而女人正好相反，她们没有什么其他计划来增加才能。吸引她们的不是事业、远大的计划和伟大的抱负；不，她们不会思考试图建立这些宏伟的整体构架。要想在社会上有头有脸并且能肆意寻欢，她们必须寻求有利的婚姻；她们为了达到这个目标耗费了自己的时间，并最终从事着“合法的卖淫”。男人一旦进入一个行业，就会把精力集中在未来的利益上（当精力完全集中于某一点时，思维就会变得强壮），并且因为他忙于工作，享乐对他来说只是暂时的休息；而女人却将享乐当成生命的主要目标。实际上，她们从社会上所受的错误教育使得我们可以认为，贪图享乐控制了所有的女人，但是这如何说明灵魂有性别区分呢？若果真如此，我们就可以宣称法国所有的廷臣都不是男人，因为这种摧毁人性的专制制度造就了他们的性格，他们以自由、美德和人性为代价，追求享乐和虚荣。这些都是致命的欲望，它们一直统治的恰恰是整个人类！

女性教育的整体方针培养了女人贪图享乐的习惯，这使得她们在很多情况下，为人处世拘泥于琐碎的细节；比如，她们总是关注次要的事情；她们总是对各种冒险感兴趣，而不去履行自己的责任。

男人踏上征程时，一般都会将目标放在心上；而女人则更关注一些偶然的遭遇，那些在路上发生的奇怪的事情以及自己给旅伴留下的印象；但她最关心的莫过于她身上穿着的华丽服饰，在她要奔赴一个新的地方，或者用一个恰当的法国人的说法，就是在她要制造一场轰动时，服饰就比以往任何时候都重要，更是成为她身体的一部分了。当一个人整天关心这些细枝末节，她还会有精神上的尊严吗？

简而言之，从整体上看，女人和富人一样，染上了文明社会所有的愚蠢和罪恶，却错过了文明社会的有益成果。我无须每次都说明，我是就女性的整体状况而言的，不考虑特殊情况。她们燃烧着欲火，却忽略了理性，结果她们成为感官的牺牲品，还美其名曰多愁善感，每次突然迸发的感情都可以让她们不能自持。因此文明社会的妇女受到虚伪的教养的毒害如此深重，以致如果让她们处在一个更贴近自然的环境里，道德方面所能达到的水平也会比现在高得多。她们总是心神不定，左顾右盼，她们过度的敏感让她们自己不舒服，也让别人（用一个语气温和的词）觉得讨厌。她们应当用理智思考时，思维都转移到了能够刺激感情的那些事物上去了。她们的行为不坚定，想法也是左右摇摆，不是因为深思熟虑或渐进式发展的观点而踌躇，而是因为她们矛盾的情感而摇摆。她们会一时兴起，对很多东西感兴趣；但是这种热情绝不会发展成精力集中的坚韧不拔的力量，很快就会冷却；热情融化于自己的温度，或者是碰上其他理性上毫无意义、转瞬即逝的热情，就产生了无所谓的态度。如果一个人对心灵的培养只关注如何激发感情，那这个人一定很悲惨！激发感情和加强感情之间应有区别。这样放纵感情去培养判断力，会有什么好结果呢？无疑，结果就是疯狂和愚蠢的混合物！

这种看法不仅仅适用于女性；不过，我现在只是将它用在女性身上。

小说、音乐、诗歌和献殷勤都会使女人成为感性动物，因此她们在培养才艺的时候，就会塑造出这样的性格。这些才艺是她们的社会地位促使其获得的唯一进步。这种被过分强调的多愁善感，自然会不利于心灵其他方面能力的发展，而且妨碍了智力控制一切。一个有理性的人要想有利于人，或者满足于自己的地位，其智力必须要取得这种地位。因为自然告诉我们，随着生命的发展，运用理智是能够克制情欲的唯一方法。

过分享乐会导致另外一种完全不同的结果。我时常因为一段对精神毁灭的生动刻画而深受震撼，描述的是一个人总是充满渴求享受的欲望，但身体已伤，因为没有敏锐的感觉器官，因此感受不到任何事物的乐趣。然而，女人却完全变成了她们感官的奴隶，因为她们就是靠着敏感获取手头的权利的。

道德学家们会假惺惺地主张：占人类半数的女人应当以一种无精打采的消极表现和愚蠢默认的态度处在这种状态，这就是我们大力推崇的状态。善良的导师们！我们是为何而生呢？也许人们会说，为了保持天真；他们想说的其实是保持一种幼稚的状态。女性从泥土中来，也自甘堕落其中，永远不翻身；要不是有必要造出女人，使男性能够获得理智的高贵权利和辨别善恶的能力，否则女人根本不用来这个世界走上一遭。

女人由于一种流行的意见沦入各种卑贱、忧虑和悲哀之中，这些情形不一而足，无法全部列举。这种意见认为女人生来就应当凭感官感知，而不是凭智力理论；认为她们必须靠美貌和软弱获得权力，即：

因缺陷而美丽，因软弱而可爱！

这种可爱的软弱使她们完全依赖男人，除了用不正当的权力谋得一些利益外，她们向男人寻求保护和忠告。她们漠视只有理性才能指明的责任，拒绝锻炼她们心智的考验，绞尽脑汁为自己的不足罩上优雅的外套，以求加强自己在好色之徒眼中的吸引力，这些也都没什么奇怪，尽管他们这么做只会使自己堕落到道德底线以下。

她们实在是软弱的人，她们必须得依靠男人获得慰藉。即使是碰到最不足挂齿的“危险”，她们也要缠着男人帮助自己，像个寄生虫似的黏住男人不放，可怜地乞求援助；于是她们的天生护花使者就会伸出手臂，提高嗓门保护这些瑟瑟发抖的小可爱们，但他们到底为女人排除了什么样的险情呢？也许是吼叫的老牛，或是窜逃的老鼠；一只大老鼠就已经是个重大灾难了。即使她们是温柔动人的，但就理性或常识来说，她们的行为怎么能使自己免受轻视呢？

这些恐惧如果不是装模作样的话，也许会带来一些惹人怜爱的状态；但这些状态恰恰是低能和愚蠢的一种表现，以女人毫不知晓的方式降低了一个有理性人的身份——因为爱情和尊重是完全不同的概念。

我坚决相信，如果允许女孩子作适量的锻炼，不把她们关在密闭的房间里，直到她们的肌肉变得无力、消化系统遭到破坏，就绝不会有这些幼稚的现象。进一步说，假如社会不去培养，也许更确切地说是创造女孩子的胆怯，而是像对待男孩子的怯懦那样胆怯，我想很快我们就能看到，女人会更有尊严。确实，那时称她们是男人生活道路上绽放的鲜花并不恰当；但是她们一定是社会上更有尊严的成员，并在自己理性的指引下，履行人生的重要责任。卢梭说：“用男人的教育方式来教导女人，她们和我们男人越相似，她们支配我们的权力就会越小。”这也正是我想说的。我不希望她们有支配男人的权力，只是希望她们有能力支配自己。

……

无知是品德脆弱的基础！然而，那些强烈支持男人拥有优越地位的作家们一直坚持认为，无知是女人与生俱来的特点；男人的优越不是指他们程度上比女性更高，而是他们拥有胡作非为的特权。虽然，为了使自己的论调更为温和，他们以骑士般的宽宏大量，极力证明不应当将男女两性作对比；男人生来是运用理智的，而女人生来是凭感觉的，将理性和感觉整合为一个完整的性格，就会得到灵和肉的结合，造就一个最完美的整体。

敏感究竟是什么？“感觉快，知觉快，灵敏度高。”这是约翰逊博士［3］给敏感下的定义；可是这个定义给我的感觉莫过于是在用最精致简练的语言说本能罢了。不论是在感觉上或实质上，我都看不出哪里提到了神的形象。即使提炼70次，反复推敲，它仍然是感觉；没有理智的存在；火永远也不能把铅炼成金子！

再回到我以前的论点上来：如果承认一个女人有不朽的灵魂，那么作为人生的一项任务，就必须锻炼自己的理智。她为使现状更为完整（虽然一切现象都表明，现状只不过是庞大总体内部极小的一个部分），为了满足眼前的享乐而忽略了伟大目标时，她们就阻碍了天性的发展，除非她生下来就是为了繁殖后代，然后死亡腐烂，要不然就是承认各种禽兽都有灵魂（虽然不是理性的灵魂），运用本能和感觉是它们在此生所采取的一个步骤，为来世拥有理性做准备；因此它们将永远落后于人类，因为人类从存在之初就享有取得理性的能力，虽然我们并不知道原因是什么。

我在像讨论一个公民或者一个父亲的特殊责任那样讨论女人的特殊责任时，就发现，我并非想暗示她们（我指的是大多数）应该走出家庭生活。但是社会的福利并非建立在个别杰出人士的努力奋斗的基础上；而且如果社会组织方式更加合理，也许我们就不需要伟大的才干或是英雄的美德了。

在管理一个家庭和教育子女方面，理智（真正意义上的理智）特别重要——身心两方面都需要坚强有力；但是那些通过撰写作品而费尽心机提倡把女人圈养在家里的男人们，却试图用粗俗的欲望支配的观点（这种欲望因为过度享乐而变得十分挑剔），来削弱女性的体质，禁锢她们的思维。但是，即使他们通过一些邪恶的手段，成功地利用了女人的感情，说服了她们，使她们安心呆在家里履行母亲和主妇的责任，我还是会慎重地反对某些指导女人纠正她们行为方式的主张，这些主张试图说服女人让她们把这些所谓的重要责任当成是人生的主要职责，这种主张是有损理性的。可是，我根据经验判断，如果她们由于理智疏忽，对这些家务活不管不问，程度上和她们在认真追求知识时（虽然我可以说，人类中绝大多数人永远不会求知不倦）表现出来的对家务活的漠然程度相同或者还要严重的话，我还是可以得出以下推论：理性乃是女人正确完成任何工作必不可少的因素，同时我还要重复一遍，敏感并不是理性。

……

另外一个我认为很有分量的观点，也许会引起任何一位体贴善良人士的共鸣。那些没有接受良好教育的女孩子，往往被父母残忍地抛弃，他们去世以后，没有给她们留下任何生活物资，因此她们不仅要依赖弟兄的理性行事，还要靠他们养活。往最好的方面想，这些弟兄都是善良的人，他们把同一父母生育的孩子所应该享有的同等权利恩赐还给她们。在这种不明显的屈辱环境下，一个温顺的女人可能勉强舒适地维持一段时间。但是一旦她的弟兄结了婚——这个可能性是很大的——她就不再被看作是家庭的女主人，而是遭到横眉冷对，被当作是个可恶的入侵者，对于男主人和他的新欢的善心来说，是个不必要的负担。

很多在身心方面都很软弱的可怜人，没有工作能力，却耻于乞讨，又有谁能够描述她们在这种情况下遭受的痛苦呢？她弟兄的妻子，一个心肠冷酷、心胸狭隘的女人（这个说法并不会有失公允，因为现在的教育制度并不可能让女性豁达大度、视野开阔），因为丈夫对他的亲属表现出了一点善行而心生嫉妒；她的敏感也让她不近人情，因此当她看到自己子女的财产糟蹋在这个没有自立能力的小姑子身上，很是不悦。

这些都是事实，我一次又一次亲眼看到这些情况发生。结果很明显：妻子用狡猾的手段暗中破坏她不敢公然反对的惯常的兄妹之情；她甚至不惜用自己的泪水和抚摸，来打动丈夫，直到这个“间谍”被逐出家门，流落到社会上，毫无准备地面对社会的各种挑战；或者这位妻子表现出一种极大的慷慨——也许她认为这比较合乎时宜，给这个女人一小笔活命钱，让她带着这笔钱和一颗未经教化的心灵独自度过郁郁寡欢的日子。

这两个女人也许在理性和人性方面没什么差别，如果交换角色的话，可能表现同样自私；但是，如果她们接受的是另外一种教育的话，情况将会有天壤之别。妻子不会有以自我为中心的感觉，理性也会指引她不要期待丈夫的爱情，更不要在他的丈夫因爱情违反他的重要职责时，以这种爱情为骄傲。她会希望不仅仅是因为丈夫爱她，她才爱自己的丈夫，而是因为丈夫的品德而爱她；那个做姐妹的也可能会自己去努力，而不是寄人篱下，讨要嗟来之食。

我确实相信感情和理智一样是靠培养和对官能的锻炼（这点好像不太明显）获得的。我现在谈的不是转瞬即逝的感情，而是爱情。在男人和女人的教育工作中最艰巨的一项任务，也许就是采用一种恰到好处的教育方式，使之既不限制他们理智的和发展，让他们的内心洋溢着一种由青春期激发起来的活力带来的温情；又不要因为思考的问题都是与生活关系不大的研究而使感情逐渐衰竭。

至于女人，她们接受了周全的教育之后，或是成为优雅的淑女，多愁善感，天马行空，反复无常；或是成为优秀的家庭主妇。后者通常都是友好、真诚的人，精明有头脑，又不乏世俗的谨慎，虽然她们没有伟大的思想和高级的趣味，但是和那些优雅的多愁善感的淑女比起来，往往是这些品质让她们成为对社会更有用的人。知识世界的大门是向她们关闭的。带她们走出家庭或社区，她们就无所适从；思维无所事事，因为虽然文学提供了丰富的娱乐资源，但是她们未试图去享受，还经常对之嗤之以鼻。那些更有教养的人的感情和品位对她们来说是非常荒唐的，即使是那些由于机缘巧合或者家庭关系而让她们深爱的人也不例外；至于那些泛泛之交，她们认为这些都是矫揉造作。

一个明智的男人之所以爱这样的女人，是因为她是女性；之所以尊重她，是因为她是一个可以信赖的仆人。他为了求清静，任由她去责骂奴仆，穿着最好材质做的衣服去教堂做礼拜。一个与她智力相当的男人也许就不会事事顺着她，因为他也许想要侵犯她的特权，想要自己照料一些家务；但是女人，她们因未接受教化而心胸狭隘，她们天生自私自利，不会因深思而拥有宽广的胸襟，因此她们是不适合管理家庭的，因为一旦她们手头的权力泛滥，她们就会采取专制手段来维持用大笔财富堆积起来的优越地位。这种恶行有时候会变本加厉，家仆没有任何放松，不得不超负荷工作，为了让这个显要的女人享受豪宴，或者让她在和邻居夸耀衣服和排场时有谈资。当她照看孩子的时候，她基本上会让她们穿非常昂贵的衣服，无论这种疼爱是出于虚荣还是母爱，这对她的孩子来说都是百害无一利的。

此外，有多少这样的女人整天闷闷不乐地打发着日子，或者至少一到晚上她们就郁郁寡欢。她们的丈夫承认她们是好管家和忠贞的妻子，但是他们却离家去寻找更心仪的——请允许我用一个意味深长的法语词——富有刺激性（piquant）的社交伙伴。这个有耐心的苦人儿，就像磨坊里蒙了眼睛的骡子一样，勤勤恳恳地完成了她的工作，却没有得到她应当属于她的报酬，因为对她来说，丈夫的爱抚就是她的薪酬；而本来就没有什么资源的女人，绝对不会逆来顺受地接受这种剥夺自然权利的行为。

相反，文雅的淑女接受的教育让她们用鄙夷的态度对待日常生活中的琐碎小事；虽然人们也只不过让她学习一点比常识略高一筹的才艺而已；因为除非通过练习锻炼她的理智，否则她也不可能很精准地获得一些体力方面的才能。没有原则做基础，品位也是肤浅的；优雅必须来源于比模仿更为深刻的东西。但是，想象力开始沸腾，感情即使没有世故复杂，也会变得吹毛求疵；或者虽然她的心灵依然质朴（但却过于温和），却无法做出有见地的判断。

……

如果爱情是一种极致的美德，那就只教育女人去激发爱情即可，让她们尽情发挥自己的魅力去迷醉人们的感官吧；但是如果她们是有道德的人，那就应该给她们机会成为有智慧的人；让她们对男人的爱情仅仅成为热情洋溢的普遍大爱中的一部分，在普泽众生之后，升华为对上帝的感恩。

履行家庭责任需要很大的决心，还要有坚强的毅力，这种毅力需要比感情更加坚固的东西做后盾，无论感情是多么活跃和真挚。要做一个自律的榜样，一个有道德的人必须在行为上严格要求自己，而这又是一个自幼就随着个人情绪而动的人所做不到的人。任何在理性上想要有所作为的人，都必须有严格的行为规范；我们在履行最简单的责任时，经常不得不违背自己一时兴起的怜悯之心或慈悲情怀。严厉往往是感情的最坚实和最高尚的证据；正是由于缺乏这种控制感情的力量，缺乏一种更高尚的感情——这种感情让人意识到自己深爱未来的福祉比当下的享乐重要得多——很多溺爱的母亲对她们的孩子万般宠爱，却产生了忽略和纵容哪一坏处最大的疑问；在我看来，后者遗害最深。

人类似乎相信孩子在童年时期应当由母亲来管教。但是现在，据我观察，多愁善感的女人最不适合这项工作，因为她们很容易被情绪左右，宠坏了孩子的性情。性情的管理是教育中最初和最重要的部分，需要理性做出冷静稳重的观察；孩子的行为规范既不是专制暴虐的，也不是溺爱纵容的：但是敏感的人往往不是陷入这个极端，就是走到那个极端，始终把握不好度。我曾经顺着我的思辨逻辑走得更远，得出结论，一个极富天赋的人是最不适合从事教育工作的，无论是公共教育还是家庭教育。这类极少数的人看问题好从大处着眼，很少有好脾气（如果曾经有过的话）。这种惯常性的乐天派脾气，即我们所说的好性情，也许很难和卓越的智力结合，正如它不会和强烈的感情兼容一样。那些满怀着好奇和崇拜追随放荡不羁的天才，或者是带着冷静的赞许之情，吸收那些学富五车的智者为他们精心准备指示的人，一旦他们发现天才暴躁易怒，智者郁郁寡欢，就不应该感到厌恶。因为活跃的想象力和深刻的洞察力与顺从的谦恭文雅是难以相容的，这种文雅至少会让一个人屈从于大众的意见和偏见，而不是勇敢地予以反驳。

但是在谈论教育或者举止时，我们可以不考虑那些智力卓群的人，让他们顺其自然吧；我们谈的是能力平平的普通大众，他们需要接受教育，会因周围环境的影响而近朱者赤。我认为这些可敬的民众，无论男女，都不应当躺在奢侈和懒惰的温床上增强他们的情感，而牺牲他们的理智；因为，除非有一定的智力做基础，否则他们不可能成为有道德的人或是自由的人：一个靠财富或真正的智慧发家的贵族，永远都会让那些时而胆小怯懦时而凶恶勇猛的情感努力臣服。

……

女人很少能有足够认真的工作来平静她们的心情；四周琐碎的挂念或虚荣的追求耗尽了她们身心的精力，她们自然而然地只成为了感觉的对象。简言之，整个女性教育（社会教育）宗旨就是要让那些状况最好的女人变得浪漫、多变；让剩下的女人变得虚荣和可鄙。在目前的社会状况下，恐怕这种弊端很难克服；也许一种更远大的理想在社会上占主流趋势时，女人就会比较接近自然和理性，在她们变得日益高尚的同时，成为更有美德、更有益的人才。

但是我还是要斗胆声明，当世界上大多数人的主要愿望是向世人炫耀摆阔时，女人的理智就永远得不到长足的发展，从而理性也就无法规范她们的行为，因为自然的情感和最有益的美德都成为这种愚蠢欲望的牺牲品。女孩结婚的目的，借用一个意味深长的俗话来说，就是为了荣华富贵，并且如此巧妙地控制自己的情感，除非一个家财万贯的男人来求婚，否则绝不坠入爱河。我要在另一章讨论这个话题；现在我只需要点到为止，因为年轻女人总是过早患上成年人自私的精明，浇灭了她们青春的热情，从而日益堕落。

同样的来源传出了一种说法，年轻女孩应该把大多数时间用来做针线活；但是，这种活计把她们的思维限制在自己的穿着打扮上，因此比其他任何可选择的事情都更阻碍她们智力的发展。男人吩咐别人为他做衣裳，交代完了就不再提起；女人的衣服，无论是必需的还是装饰性的，都需要自己缝制，而且总是在絮絮叨叨地说这个话题；而她们的大脑也跟着手运动。实际上削弱她们思维的不是那些必需的衣服，而是那些廉价的华丽服装。因为当一个处于社会底层的女人为她的丈夫和孩子缝制衣服时，她是在履行她的责任，这是她家务活的一部分；但是那些想要华丽衣装却又消费不起，只好自己制作衣服的女人，她们损失的不仅仅是时间。贫穷的女人必须工作才能拥有道德，这些女人如果不盲目追求贵族阶层时髦，不贪图闲适安逸的生活，那些中产阶级的女人也许会雇用她们，因为这些女人需要料理家务、教育子女和锻炼自己的心智。园艺、实验哲学和文学会为她们提供思考的内容和谈论的话题，这些在一定程度上可以锻炼她们的思维。虽然那些不会僵坐在椅子上一动不动地缝衣襟、织花边的法国妇女谈论的话题已经够肤浅了，但是我认为，她们的交谈远没有英国女人的无聊，她们整天把时间花在做各种帽子和所有用来装饰的玩意儿上面。因为这些事情而堕落的往往是体面、谨慎的女人，因为她们的动机仅仅是爱慕虚荣。那些利用自己的品位让自己感情更有诱惑力的放荡女人们，心里想的更多。

我的这些论点都是从一个总的论点发展而来的，这个论点我以前提过，并且多次强调，因为说到男人、女人和职业，我们会发现思维塑造性格，对于人类和对于个人来说都是如此。女人的脑子里整天都是她自己的个人容貌，那她把外貌当作是最重要的事又有什么奇怪的呢？但是即使是长得容颜秀丽，一定程度的心灵自由也是必不可少的；这也许就是有些温柔的妻子除了性的吸引力之外，再也没有什么魅力的原因吧。除此之外，需要久坐的工作让大多数女人体弱多病——而对于女性品质的错误观念使她们以这种柔弱为荣，虽然这种柔弱实则为一副枷锁，通过让女人不断关注自己的外表，而禁锢了心灵的发展。

那些高贵的女性很少亲自缝制衣服，因此她们只需运用自己的鉴赏力，而且她们在化完妆以后，不会再想那些华丽的服饰，因此拥有了一份闲适的淡定，而那些为了打扮而打扮的女人，很少会表现出这种淡然。实际上，我所做的关于中产阶级（在中产阶层，有才能的人最能大展拳脚）的评价，并不是对所有女人都适用；因为那些上流社会的女人，因为至少读过一些文学作品，而且和男人谈论过一些宏观问题，因此会比那些盲目模仿她们的时髦和缺点，却无法享有她们优势的女人拥有更多的学识。而谈到美德，我说的是广义上的美德，我在底层群众中见到的最多。很多贫苦的女人，呕心沥血地养育子女，竭力维持着因男人的恶行而濒临破碎的家庭；但是上层社会的淑女们懒惰成性，不会主动去培养自己的品格，有文化并不会使她们更优雅，反而更软弱。确实，我亲眼目睹了许多贫困的女人非常通情达理，她们没有接受教育的机会，却表现出英勇的行为，这些有力地证实了我的观点，无聊琐事只会让女人变成没有追求的人。男人占有了女人的身体，却任其心灵腐烂；因此肉体之爱让男人疲惫不堪（其实这是他最喜欢的娱乐活动）时，他就会想办法奴役女人——而谁又能预测需要多少世代的发展，这些卑贱的奴隶的后代才能获得自由，拥有高尚的品德和富有创造性的思想呢？

在追溯那些我认为曾导致女性堕落的原因的时候，我将范围局限在那些对整个女性的道德和行为产生普遍影响的因素上，并且我认为，这些因素显然都是由于缺乏理智而导致的。至于这种不足到底是因为身体内在的还是偶然的智力缺陷导致的，时间迟早会为我们揭开谜底；我因为不想过度强调那极少数受过男性教育，英勇非凡意志坚定的女性的例子；我只是补充一句，那些处在同样环境中的男人也获得了和这些女人相似的性格——我说的是普通的男人，那些聪颖过人的男人都是来自于某一个阶层，然而没有一个女性属于这个阶层。

注释

［1］见《圣经·旧约》“以赛亚书”22章13节。——译者注

［2］即夏娃。——译者注

［3］塞缪尔·约翰逊（Samuel Johnson, 1709—1784），英国文学家，《英文字典》（Dictionary of the English Language）编纂者。——译者注

各种关于良好声誉重要性的性别观念对道德的损害

我很早就意识到，那些人们不遗余力向女人灌输的有关行为举止的忠告和保持良好声誉的各种方法，都是华而不实的毒药，它们为道德包了一层外壳，却侵蚀了它的本质。何况，用这种徒有其表的标准来衡量人，必定会带来错误的结果，因为就如同影子一样，长短很大程度上取决于太阳的高度和很多偶然性的因素。

……

如果女性不是常常受教导要孜孜不倦地保持她们表面性格的光鲜和美好，并把它们看作是女人的全部职责；如果人们不总是用规范行为和保持良好声誉的规矩来代替道德义务，我就没有必要对此话题展开论述，使之成为贯穿我所有作品的主要原则。但是，谈到良好名誉，注意力就被局限到一种品德上——贞洁。如果一个女人的荣誉（用这种荒谬的方法来称谓）得到保全，她就可以忽略所有的社会责任；甚至可以沉溺于玩乐和奢侈，将她的家庭带向毁灭；但是她仍然表现出一副道貌岸然的样子——因为她确实是一个值得尊敬的女人。

麦考莱夫人曾公正声明：“只有一种错误，体面的女人犯了之后不能免于惩罚。”她随后公正而仁慈地补充，“因此就导致了一种愚蠢的老生常谈，认为女人第一次犯了出卖贞操的错误，就会从根本上败坏她的名誉。但是造物主创造出的生物不可能这么脆弱。人类的心灵的本质很高贵，不会这么容易受侵蚀。虽然女人在境遇和教育方面处于劣势，但是除非她们遭到同性恶毒的诅咒而流于绝望的境地，否则她们很少被完全抛弃。”

但是，虽然女人将贞洁的名誉视为珍宝，男人却对它嗤之以鼻：这两种极端态度对道德危害都很大。

无疑，男人比女人更容易受到欲望的诱惑，而且他们的欲望往往因为肆意享乐和欲壑难填而更为堕落。奢侈的生活让人们在饮食上挑三拣四，体质每况愈下；还导致了人们的贪食行为，这种行为过于粗俗，以致我们已经在这类人身上看不到任何礼貌得体的概念了：他们在别人面前肆无忌惮地纵情饕餮，事后还因为自己毫无节制造成的腹内胀痛牢骚满腹。有些女人，特别是法国女人，已经在这方面有失端庄了，因为她们会坦然自若地谈论消化不良，我们只有希望杜绝那些游手好闲的人在财富的温床上滋养那些以食腐为生的成群的夏虫，只有这样我们才不会因为看到这种粗俗的贪婪而心生厌恶。

我认为，有一条行为规范方面的准则，可以制约所有其他准则；这就是对人类抱有习惯性的尊重，防止我们一时因贪图享乐而招来同伴的憎恶。很多已婚女人和其他稍微上了年纪的人经常因为懒惰成性而颜面尽失。虽然大家坚信外貌是联系两性的纽带，然而又有多少次女人纯粹因为懒惰，或是贪图毫无意义的自我放纵，而遭致别人的厌恶呢？

那种让两性结合的堕落腐化的欲望，有更致命的后果。天性应当是品位的唯一标准，欲望的永恒量尺——然而好色之徒多么粗暴地侮辱了天性。我们暂且不论高尚的爱情；为了保证人类的传宗接代，天性，在这一方面和所有其他方面一样，将对欲望的满足规定为维持人类繁衍生息必要的自然法则，因此抬高了肉欲的地位，并让肉欲掺杂了一些理智和感情的成分。为纯粹的动物本能加上一些为人父母的感情，可以使这种本能更加尊贵；男人和女人为了孩子经常相聚，双方对孩子共同的感情激发了相互之间的关心和感情。女人因此有了比打扮自己更加崇高的责任，为了履行职责，她们不会心安理得地沦为无耻淫欲的奴隶；而现在相当多的女人都是这种奴隶，更准确点说，她们就是所有贪食者的常备佳肴。

也许有人会反驳我，虽然这种堕落情节恶劣，但它不过影响了女人中一部分甘于奉献者，她们为了挽救其余的女人而牺牲自己。但是这种允许小部分罪恶存在以追求更大利益的说法，和其他所有错误的主张一样，很容易得到证实；它们的危害远不止于此，因为女性中比较贞洁那部分人的道德品质和心灵安宁都受到了这种女人的破坏，她们认为这些女人犯的罪行不可饶恕；她们坚决认为这些女人通过各种手段引诱她们的丈夫，导致她们的儿子放荡堕落，并且逼他们（正派的女人不要惊讶）也在某种程度上做同样的勾当。因为我将冒昧地声明，所有导致女性软弱和堕落（正如我刚才详细阐述）的因素，都是出自同样一个主要的原因——男人贞洁观念的匮乏。

这种放荡行为流毒甚广，使性欲堕落到只有靠淫荡的刺激才能使之兴奋的程度，但是他们辜负了造物主充满慈爱的良苦用心，一时脑子里完全被容貌占据。这些沉迷于美色的无耻之徒行为日渐放荡，甚至开始对女人的柔情吹毛求疵；在意大利和葡萄牙，男人甚至会穿梭于各种暧昧场所，去寻求比女性柔情更有吸引力的刺激。

为了让这类男人如意，女人整体变得日益放荡起来，尽管程度不同，但是她们心甘情愿和男人发生没有感情的性交，使两性都变得堕落，因为这种行为影响了男人的品位；而各个阶层的女人，必然会去为了满足男人已败坏的品位而调整自己的行为，以追求享乐和权势。女人因此在身体和心灵上都变得不堪一击，但是如果她们考虑到她们存在的重大目标之一——生育并抚养孩子，就不会变得如此软弱，她们现在已经没有足够的能力来履行做母亲的首要责任；父母之情使本能变得高贵，而女人却因为淫荡而愿意牺牲为人父母的权利，她们或是打掉腹中尚在发育的胎儿，或是在孩子出生之后将之抛弃。一切事物中的自然法则都值得尊重，很少有人能够破坏自然的法则而免于惩罚。那些特别吸引好色之徒的软弱女人是不配做母亲的，虽然她们可能会怀孕；那个有钱的淫荡之徒，在女人堆里寻欢作乐，到处散播堕落和痛苦，在他想要传宗接代时，却只能从妻子那里得到一个继承了两人缺点的发育不良的人。

人们将现代的人文精神和古代的野蛮行为对比时，总是强调古人有一种把养不起的孩子抛弃到野外的野蛮风俗；但是那些对此愤愤不平的情感丰富的男人，也许正因为自己混乱的男女关系造成了一种非常具有破坏性的不育现象和广为扩散的无耻风尚。毫无疑问，造物主从来无意让女人通过满足性欲而破坏他让人类拥有性欲的真正目的（即繁衍后代）！

我前面已经提过，男人应当对他们引诱过的女人负责；这将成为改善女人行为方式的一种手段，同时也可以阻止这种对人口和道德都有毁灭性打击的恶行进一步发展。还有一种同样明显的方法，就是将女人的注意力转移到贞洁这项真正的美德上来；因为这种一边对好色之徒放荡情欲的受害者和她们自己的愚蠢嗤之以鼻，一边又对他们笑脸相迎的女人，也许会有洁白如雪花的名声，但是就端庄来说，她们是不会赢得多少人尊重的。

另外，在她费尽心思打扮自己，只是为了吸引男人的眼球，得到他们尊敬的赞叹和称之为天真奉承的无聊崇拜时，也许她会自诩纯洁，但实际上她已经沾染了同样的愚蠢。因为如果女人真正因为美德本身而尊崇美德，她们就不会从虚荣中寻求补偿，以弥补为了保全名声而必须去履行的自我克制，她们也不会和蔑视名声的男人有任何来往。

男人和女人之间是相互腐化、共同进步的。我相信这是一个不容置疑的真理，适用于一切美德。贞洁、端庄、公德心以及一系列高贵的品德是社会道德和幸福得以建立的基础，应当得到所有人的认同和培养，否则培养这些品德就没有什么意义。为了不让邪恶或懒惰的人为自己破坏某种神圣的责任寻找托词（他们会称这种责任为女性的责任），更明智的办法就是让大家知道造物主并没有区分两性的品德，因此不贞的男人双重地违反了造物主的意图，他不仅让女人无法生育，而且伤害了自己的身体，虽然他不会像女人犯罪那样为世人所不齿。这些都是生理上的后果，道德上的危害就更令人警醒；因为公民、丈夫、妻子、父亲、母亲和一家之主的责任仅仅成为寻求一己私利的关系时，道德就已名存实亡。

既然如此，那为何哲学家们还要期待公德心呢？公德心必须靠私德来培育，要不然就会成为女人为保护名声，男人为维持荣誉而表现的虚情假意，这种感情没有道德和高尚品行的支撑，而高尚的品行就对违反某种责任的惯常性视为对整个道德法则的破坏。

社会上既定的不合理差别造成的有害影响

人们对财产的尊重，就像有毒的喷泉一样，带来了很多灾祸和罪恶，使这个世界在一个爱好思考的人眼里呈现出一派萧条荒凉的景象。因为正是在文明高度发达的社会里，害虫和毒蛇才会潜藏在茂密的丛林中；还有死气沉沉的气氛孕育的耽于享乐，使得一切优秀的性情在发展成为美德之前就夭折了。

一个阶级压迫另一个阶级，所有的人都指望凭借自己的财富获得尊重，一旦有了财富就可以拥有只有才能和美德才配享有的尊重。那些忽略了人类应当履行责任的人，却仍被当作半个神一样供着。宗教和美德被一层礼仪的幕布分开了，可是人们还在惊讶，这个世界严格意义上来说已经腐化成骗子和压迫者的巢穴了。

有一句朴实的格言精辟地道出了真理：魔鬼专门指使游手好闲的人为自己干活。世袭的财富和头衔除了带来习惯性的懒惰还能带来什么呢？因为人的天性如此，只有通过锻炼自己的天赋才会合理使用它们，可是只有某种需要首先迫使他采取行动，他才会运用自己的天赋。同样，美德也只有通过履行相关的责任才能获得；但是一个人听尽了甜言蜜语忘乎所以，甚至丧失人性的时候，他是不会感受到这些神圣责任的意义的。社会上必须建立更多的平等，否则道德将永远不会有进展；如果人类的一半因为命运而被困在深渊里，则即使这种道德的平等性以岩石为根基也不会有稳固的基础，因为这些人会不断通过无知或骄傲来将它毁坏。

在女人于某种程度上脱离男人而独立之前，指望女人有美德是徒劳无益的；同样，也不能指望女人拥有自然感情的力量，让她们成为贤妻良母。她们完全依赖丈夫时就会变得狡猾、卑鄙、自私；而那些因哈巴狗样逢迎奉承的爱情而满足的男人，也不会有什么细腻的情感，因为爱情不是商品；无论怎么来理解这句话的意义，如果寻求的爱情没有同样的感情作为回报，爱情的羽翼就会立即枯萎。但是，男人因为财富而变得软弱，而女人似乎是以个人魅力为生时，我们怎么能期待他们履行那些需要努力和自制才能使他们高尚的责任呢？世袭的财产使人心变得复杂，那些一出生就受财产牵绊的不幸受害者——如果我可以这么说的话——很少会运用他们身体或精神的力量，他们只能通过一个媒介来观察万物，而这个媒介还是假的，因此他们无法辨别真正的美德和幸福包括什么。一个人被地位的帷幕遮蔽了双眼，并且因此戴着面具耀武扬威，愚蠢而又无所事事地拖着没有知觉的四肢从一个放浪场所晃到另外一个，转动着茫然无神的眼珠，眼神明显告诉我们这是个没有思想的躯壳，这种人的观点必然是谬误的。

因此我想推导出下面的结论，如果社会不迫使男人和女人分别履行各自的责任，并使之成为人们获得同胞赞同的唯一途径（这种赞同是每一个人或多或少都希望得到的），则此社会一定组织得不够完善。结果对财富和美色的推崇成了真正的东北风，摧毁了爱情和美德的娇嫩花蕊。造物主英明地将感情和责任结合，从而使劳作变得甜蜜，并且赠与理智运用一种只有心灵才能给予的活力。但是，如果仅仅因为爱情是某种性格合适的标志而表现出虚情假意，却不去履行爱情应尽的责任，那么这种爱情不过是邪恶和愚蠢不得不向美德和事物的真正本质做出的空洞的恭维罢了。

为了证明我的观点，我只需要作如下陈述：一个女人因自己的美貌而受人追捧，而她又因为沉溺于这些赞美不能自拔，以致忽视了自己作为母亲不可推卸的职责时，她就是自甘堕落，因为她疏于培养一种同样能够让她有价值和幸福感的感情。真正的幸福，我指的是在目前不完善状态下能够得到的所有的满足感和道德上的幸福，必须来源于有节制的感情，而感情是包含责任的。男人没有意识到由于他们一味鼓励女人取悦他人，而给她们造成的深重苦难和因此纵容的可怕的软弱；他们没有考虑到他们的行为让女人为具有色情概念的美貌牺牲了一个女人生命中的幸福和尊严，让天然责任和人为责任走到了对立面，而实际上二者完全是和谐一致的。

如果一个男人看到自己的妻子在哺乳孩子时，觉得还不如淫荡的行为带给他的快乐多，而他也不是因为早年的不羁行径变得极不正常，那他一定就是铁石心肠；但是金钱让女人抛弃了哺乳孩子这种加强婚姻关系、融合尊严和爱慕的回忆的自然道路。女人为了保持容颜美丽，得到那顶使她短期内对异性有某种统治权的花环，而忽略了在丈夫心中留下深刻的印象，而当他们两鬓斑白，热情退却时，这种印象会比动人的处女魅力唤起更多的温柔回忆。一个通情达理感情丰富的女人具有的女性关怀是让人感动的，孩子的父亲一直兢兢业业地履行应尽的职责，而女人和她的孩子则以高尚的尊严来回报他的抚爱，这种景象让人肃然起敬，赏心悦目。当我看到无病呻吟的庄严和卑躬屈膝的礼节以炫耀代替家庭感情的时候，我深感厌恶，我的感情确实很奇怪（其实我已经竭力避免太做作的感情了），以至于我不得不转向其他的场面，将注意力转移到自然中随处可见的令人眼前一亮的绿色景致上，以获得解脱。于是我兴奋地看到了一个女人在照顾她的孩子，完成她应尽的责任，也许只有一个女仆替她承担辛劳的家务劳作。我看见她把自己和孩子都收拾得很整齐，迎接晚上归来的疲惫不堪的丈夫，他看到的是孩子微笑的脸庞和干净整洁的家。我的心俨然已经融入了这个家庭，在熟悉的脚步声引起一阵欢乐的骚动时，我的心甚至也会产生共鸣，怦怦跳动。

当我的善意因为凝视这幅不加任何修饰的图画而得到满足时，我曾经想，这样的一对夫妇因为各自都履行了自己应尽的责任，因此相互依存又各自独立，他们拥有了生活能够赋予他们的一切。如果他们积攒了一定的财富，脱离了赤贫状态，不必为他们花的每一笔钱左右掂量；有了足够的钱他们不必考虑让人心胸狭隘的拮据的家庭经济计划，我认为（其实我的想法很简单），我不知道这个家庭还需要什么才能成为世界上最幸福、最值得尊重的境况，除非需要有一点文学鉴赏的品位，为社交谈话增加一点变化和趣味，还额外需要一笔钱接济穷人、购买书籍。在人们内心充满怜悯之情，脑子里一直活跃着安排各种有用的计划时，却有一个一本正经的小人儿不停地拽着胳膊，不让伸手拿出那个几乎瘪下去的钱包，同时还耳语着一些关于正义第一的深谋远虑的大道理，实在让人不悦。

虽然财产和继承的荣誉对于人类的性格有毁灭性的打击，但是女人因此而受到的伤害和束缚比男人更大（如果她们确实受其影响），因为男人仍然可以通过成为军人和政客，在一定程度上展现他们的才能。

……

荒诞不经的等级制度让文明成为祸害，它把世人分成骄奢淫逸的暴君和狡猾嫉妒的寄生虫，这种区分让这两种人几乎同等地陷入堕落，因为尊重与履行人生的责任无关，却由地位决定，而人们在没有完成分内职责时，就不会有足够深厚的感情来巩固美德，有美德的人自然能够得到爱情作为回报。男人仍然可以悄悄地钻一些空子，为了自己敢于思考敢于行动；而女人的任务就艰巨得多，因为她要战胜很多女性特有的困难，而克服它们需要超出常人的力量。

一个真正仁慈的立法者总会努力使每一个品德高尚的人都能从中获益，这样私德就会促进公共幸福的建设，而有秩序的整体会因为所有的部分都趋向于一个共同的中心而得到加强。但是对女人来说，私德或公德的区分确是有问题的，因为卢梭和很多男性作家都坚决声称女人应当一生都受到礼法严格的约束。但是如果她完全有能力依照一个更高尚的动机行为处事，如果她是不朽灵魂的继承者，则她为何还需要屈从于礼法，而且是盲目的礼法呢？糖必须永远要用维持生命的血液来制造吗？当原则是更可靠的保证时，难道人类一半的人就注定要像悲惨的非洲黑奴一样，只是为了让男人的生命之杯更加甜蜜而屈从于残酷荼毒她们身心的偏见吗？这又何尝不是间接否认女人的理智呢？因为如果天赋不发挥任何作用，就只是嘲弄。

女人和男人一样，因财富带来的轻松享乐而变得软弱和奢侈；但是除此之外，她们还因此成了外貌的奴隶，她们必须把自己打扮得花枝招展，这样男人才可能把自己的理智施舍给她们，带领步履蹒跚的女人走向正途。如果她们胸怀大志，就必须用狠毒的伎俩来统治她们的暴君，因为她们没有权利，也就没有必须承担的义务。在本书下一部分我要讨论关于女性的法律，这些法律将男人和他妻子的结合视为荒谬之事；然后由于轻率转变为只认为男人是有责任的，女人就被置于无足轻重的位置。

那些履行了应尽职责的人都是独立的人；我将详细阐述女人，她们的首要责任就是将自己视为理性的人；按重要性来排列，下一条就是把自己视作公民，公民的责任包含甚广，做母亲的责任也包括在内。女人生活中的地位免除了她们的这种责任，让她们仅仅变成一具玩偶，必然也导致她们堕落。或者她们把注意力从只为自己光滑的肉体寻找合体光鲜的衣服转移到更重要的事情上去时，她们的大脑也只会被某种温柔的柏拉图式的理想爱情占据；也许实际实施一起阴谋会保持她们思维的活跃；因为她们在忽略家庭责任之时，就没有能力像士兵一样占领阵地，前进或后撤，或者在议会中辩论以防自己的思维锈蚀倒退。

我知道，卢梭为了证明女性的低劣，曾经亢奋地高叫：她们怎么能离开育婴室奔赴战场呢！有些道德学家曾经证明军营是培养最英勇品质的地方；尽管我认为，要想证明很多造就了所谓英雄的战争是合理的，可能连最聪明的诡辩家也要感到为难吧。我无意批评性地看待这个问题，因为国家在被蚕食、树林被战火和刀枪夷为平地之时，我也会经常把这种野心勃勃的怪事当作是文明社会的首选自然方式，因此我也不将战争称为祸害；但是肯定的一点是，现在的战争体制与所有的美德都没有丝毫联系，战争再也不是培养坚强意志的学校，而是训练阴险手腕和软弱性格的地方。

但是如果在目前社会高度发达的状况下，防御型战争，唯一的无可非议的战争，被认为是正义和光荣的，在这类战争中，美德能够展现它的面貌，并且在净化山顶空气的呼啸寒风中日益成熟，则古代真正的英雄主义也许会再次激起女性内心的激情。但是公正儒雅的读者，无论您是男人还是女人，请不要惊慌，因为尽管我把现代军人的性格和有教养的女人对比，我并非规劝她们将手中的卷线杆换成火枪，虽然我真心希望看到刺刀能够变成修剪树枝的钩刀。我只是厌倦了财富浊流带来的罪恶和愚蠢，这支浊流玷污了自然感情的清澈溪流，所以我对未来重新设想了一番，希冀未来社会有一日可以达到这种构成：男人必须履行作为一个公民的责任，否则他就会遭到鄙视；他在公民生活的任何部门任职时，他的妻子也是一个积极的公民，她也应当集中精力来料理家务，教育子女，帮助邻居。

但是要使她真正成为道德高尚、有用的人，假如她履行了自己的公民责任，她就不需要民法的特别保护；她不要在丈夫在世时仰仗他的恩惠过活，或去世后指望他的遗产来赡养；因为如果一个人自己就身无分文，他如何能慷慨解囊？或是自己没有自由，如何能拥有高尚的道德？在目前的情况下，一个对丈夫忠贞不渝的妻子，如果她既不生育也不培养子女，她就不配称作妻子，也无权享有公民之名。但是既然自然权利被剥夺，责任当然也就无从谈起了。

女人的思想和身体都非常虚弱，以致只有在追求空虚的享乐或制作一些轻浮的时装时才能集中精力，这时女人将仅仅被看作是男人放荡的慰藉。一个勤于思索的人看到清晨无数的马车载着脸色苍白的女人在大都市的街道上飞快横冲直撞时，还有什么比这幅景象更让他郁闷呢！我一直和约翰逊博士的意见一样，希望把她们中的一些人放置在一个小工坊中，那里有半打的孩子仰望着她们倦怠的面容等着养活。如果某种不易察觉的力量不能很快让她们的眼睛充满健康的活力；她们以前只会浮现出笑靥现在却变得苍白的脸庞，因为运用理智也爬上了几道皱纹，如果这样的脸庞不能让她们恢复品质上业已丧失的尊严，更确切地说，无法让品德获得本质上真正的尊严的话，那我就确实是大错特错了。美德不是来源于空想，更不是来源于财富滋生的消极懈怠。

此外，贫穷甚至比罪恶还要可耻时，道德岂不是更加可耻吗？为了避免误解，尽管我认为平民阶层的普通女人是受宗教和理性的感召而履行妻子和母亲的责任，我仍然禁不住扼腕叹息：没有一条道路可供上流社会的女人选择，以追求更广泛的计划，实现有为和独立。我下文要讨论一个问题，在这里我只是提一下，这可能会招来大家的耻笑，因为我真的认为女性应该有自己的国会代表，而不是对专横的统治逆来顺受，在政府审议中没有任何直接参与的权利。

但是，因为这个国家现在的整个代议制度不过是专制者统治的便利手段，她们就无须抱怨，因为她们和很多辛勤工作的机械工阶层一样，被别人代表着，这些工人甚至在无法养活孩子的时候还要掏钱来维持王室奢侈的花销。至于那些用血汗维持太子的豪华马群，或是修饰那些目中无人、恬不知耻的贵妇人华盖的人，他们是如何被代表的呢？对生活必需品征收税，让一群无所事事的王子和公主带着愚蠢的炫耀，在目瞪口呆的群众面前招摇过市，这场检阅让他们付出了如此高昂的代价，而他们却以几乎崇敬的心情瞻仰着检阅队伍。这只是哥特般的奇观，有点像在白厅［1］前对骑马哨兵的检阅，野蛮而毫无意义，每当我看到这种情形，心中便不由轻蔑又愤怒。

一个人对这种景象印象深刻时，他的思维一定会是一种奇怪的迷惑状态！但是在美德将这些愚蠢行为的残留消除之前，类似的愚蠢行为还会毒害所有群众。因为同样性质的事情在一定程度上会在社会群体中盛行；富人的浮华奢靡，穷人心怀嫉恨的恶意抱怨，都会败坏代表一个文明社会的美德，或者仅仅允许美德作为文化人穿在身上的花哨衣服上的一条花纹出现。

在上层社会，一切责任都是由代理去执行的，就好像责任是可以放弃的一样，有钱人因此懒惰成性，不得不去追求虚荣的享乐，这一切对下层人民来说极有诱惑力，不计其数的拜金者不惜牺牲一切来步他们的后尘。最神圣的职务被看成是挂名的差事，因为它们是靠走关系得到的，并且只是为了使一个人能够结识好朋友。女人尤其如此，她们都希望能够成为贵妇人。而贵妇人就是成天无所事事，只是无精打采地到处游荡，去哪她们也不在意，因为她们自己也不知道。

也许有人会这样问：但是除了悠闲自得地到处闲逛，女人还需要在社会中做什么呢？你总不能罚他们去喂养傻瓜和记录那些无聊的琐事吧？不。女人当然可以去学习救死扶伤的本领，成为医生或护士。她们也可以去接生，这似乎是比较合乎礼法的，但是我担心我们词典中“接生婆”这个词很快就会被男助产士代替，因而我们语言中证明过去女性遵循礼法的证据也将会被抹去。

她们也可以钻研政治，把她们的仁慈建立在最广泛的基础上；因为如果把历史仅仅当作是一本传记来看，而不去关注时代的特征、政治上的进展和政治手腕，阅读历史就和看传奇小说一样毫无裨益。简单说来，如果不把历史当作人类的历史来读，那就毫无益处。历史也不是个别人物的专辑，他们被放在名誉殿堂的神龛里，被漆黑一片奔腾向前的时间洪流吞噬，这股洪流将面前的一切都卷入无形的空洞，这个空洞就是“永恒”。既然是“形”，那我们不妨称之为“无形之形”吧。

如果女人能够接受更加系统的教育，她们也可以从事各行各业的工作，也许这样就可以将很多女人从私下或合法的卖淫中解救出来。男人在政府中有了一官半职而无视其应尽的责任时，女人也不会因为无法自足而和他们结婚。她们更不会为了维持基本生计这种最值得称赞的目的，而堕落到像那些靠卖淫为生的被抛弃的可怜虫一样的地位。因为那些女帽商和女裁缝们，不就是被当作比娼妓略高一点的等级吗？现在接受女人的少数行业并非高尚的工作，而只是一些卑贱的行业；有的女人接受了高级点的教育，有能力担任教育孩子的女教师，但是她们没有受到作为孩子老师应有的待遇，虽然即使是牧师老师也不会永远受到应得的礼遇，成为孩子眼中可敬的人，因此也就无从谈起什么个人生活的舒适了。但问题是那些像上层女性一样受过教育的女人，从来没有计划过要去担任那些让她们感到羞辱的职位，即使是因生活所迫她们不得不去做；她们认为这些职位是对自己身份的侮辱；她们对人类感情知之甚少，因而有必要告诉她们，没有什么事情能比生活中的沦落这样加重她们痛苦的感受了。

这种女人中有一部分可能会因为一种恰到好处的谨慎态度而克制自己不去结婚，而另外一些人可能就没有能力以这种可悲的方法逃脱奴役；如果政府无力鼓励诚实、独立的女性从事体面的工作而养活她们，这个政府难道不是一个失职的政府，对它半数公民的幸福置之不理吗？但是为了让女人的个人品德服务于社会公益，则无论她们是单身或已婚，都必须能够在国家中过着文明的生活；否则我们将不断看到一些可敬的女人，因为受到不应得的鄙视，神经变得异常脆弱和痛苦，像“耕犁下夭折的百合花”一样枯萎。

这是一个可悲的事实；这也就是文明带来的“福祉”！最值得尊敬的女人受到的压迫最深重，她们因为一直被当作下贱的人对待，最终真的堕落成为下贱的人，除非她们拥有理智，拥有远高于一般人（两性都包括在内）的理智。有多少女人就这样悲惨地耗尽了光阴，本来她们可以成为医生、经营农场、管理商店，靠她们自己的勤劳谋生，而无须因多愁善感尝尽泪水的苦涩，抬不起头来，这种多愁善感最初增加了她们的风采，现在却消耗了她们的美貌；不仅如此，我还怀疑怜惜和爱情是不是像诗人宣扬的那样有密切的联系，因为我很少看到女人的无依无靠会激起很多人的同情，除非她们仍然秀色可餐；所以也许怜悯只是爱情的软弱侍女，否则它就是情欲的先兆。

依靠履行责任来自谋生计的女人，跟多才多艺的女人相比，多么令人尊敬啊！这才是我所说的美丽啊！我深深地体会到美德之魅力，和恰到好处的和谐，一个自律的人的情欲因为这种和谐得到规范，因此将这些美德和女人世俗的美进行对比时我感到很惭愧；但是又有多少女人愿意从令人晕眩的享乐的漩涡中退出，或是从使陷于其中的善良女子变得愚蠢和懒散的宁静中脱身呢？一想到愿意如此以求尊严的女人实在寥寥无几，我就不禁失望叹息。

然而，她们以自己的弱点为荣，她们必须永远受别人庇护，远离操劳和一切让心灵更加高贵的辛苦劳动。如果这是生命的安排，如果她们愿意自甘变得微不足道、受人鄙夷，轻松美妙地“虚度生命”的话，那她们也不要指望在自己容颜已老的时候，得到别人的重视，因为最鲜艳的花朵注定要受到赞美，然后被采摘它们的双手漫不经心地撕成碎片。我抱着最单纯的善意，曾经多么希望通过各种方式让我的女同胞牢记这个真理；但是我担心她们不会听从这个真理，虽然用昂贵代价换来的经验教训已经让很多内心焦躁急切的人明白了这个道理，她们也不会为了得到人类的权利而放弃地位和性别的特权，而那些不履行人生责任的人是没有资格获得这些权利的。

有些作家认为无论人身处何职，或者用什么样虚假的感情来保护自己，都应该对人类抱有同情心，我认为这样的作家值得称赞。我也因此愿意说服有理智的人，让他们意识到我的某些说法的重要性，并劝说他们冷静地衡量我的这些观点的整体要旨。我作为他们的同胞，以一个女性的名义，呼吁他们理性地思考，要求他们心中有一点同情心。我恳求他们伸出援手，解放他们的伴侣，使女性成为真正的配偶！

男人只需要慷慨地折断我们的枷锁，愿意让我们享有合理的伙伴关系，而不是奴隶般的屈从，他们就会发现女人是更敏锐的女儿，更热情的姐妹，更忠贞的妻子，更理智的母亲——总之，更好的公民。这时我们一定会真心实意地爱他们，因为我们要学会尊重我们自己；而一个值得尊重的男人心灵的宁静也就不会被他无聊虚荣的妻子所打扰，也不会把一个从未享受过母爱的婴儿送到一个陌生人的怀抱。

注释

［1］英国伦敦的一条宽阔大道，因为政府办公机构聚集而成名。——译者注

论国民教育

……

很明显，我对国民教育的评价都是一些提示而已；但是我希望能实现的主要是：有必要让两性在一起接受教育，使双方趋于完美；有必要让孩子住在家里，这样他们才能学会热爱家庭；不过为了支持而不是扼杀公共感情，他们应当被送到学校和同龄人呆在一起，因为只有和同龄人公平竞争，我们才能形成对自己的公正评价。

为了让人类更有道德，当然也是让人类更幸福，男女两性都必须依据同样的准则来行动；但是如果这种合理性只适用于一个性别，那又如何能期待实现这一点呢？同样，要想让社会契约真正达到公平状态，使这些本身就可以改善人类命运的富有启示的原则得到推广，我们就必须允许女人将她们的品德建立在知识的基础上，这几乎是不可能的，除非女人和男人拥有同样的抱负，接受同样的教育。现在女人因为愚昧和低级的欲望而沦于卑微的地位，她们并不配和男人相提并论；不然她们就像魔鬼一样，狡猾地蠕动着爬上智慧之树，得到的只是足以将男人引入歧途的东西。

各国的历史告诉我们，不能将女人局限在家庭琐事上面，因为除非她们的心胸比较开阔，否则她们是不会履行家庭责任的；她们处在无知状态时，同样会成为享乐的奴隶，正如她们是男人的奴隶一样。但是也不能把她们关在伟大事业的大门外，尽管她们无法理解这些事业，狭隘的心胸也经常使之遭受损失。

上层社会男人的玩乐思想，甚至他们的美德，总是会赋予某种女人支配他们的大权；这些软弱的女人，在幼稚的激情和自私的虚荣影响下，对很多事物抱有一种错误的认识，而那些本来应当启发她们见识的男人，却反而用她们的眼光来看待这些事物。那些充满幻想的男人，还有那些掌握着人类事务支配大权的乐观的男人，一般扎入女人堆里就没有了自持力；我实在没有必要为那些不了解历史的读者，引用无数因受宠的女人私下通奸而导致罪恶和压迫的例子，更不需要提那些虽然出于好意却笨拙又愚蠢的干涉行为所造成的危害了。因为在处理事情时，对付一个恶棍比敷衍一个傻瓜要好得多，因为这个恶棍行事有一定的计划；但任何有道理的计划都会比一时兴起的愚蠢更容易被人看穿。那些卑鄙愚蠢的女人对拥有理智的聪明男人有支配权，这是众所周知的；我只是举一个例子而已。

谁对女性性格的描绘比卢梭的更高尚？虽然就总体来看，他总是竭力贬低女性。他为何如此焦虑呢？当然是为了给他对愚蠢的特雷莎的爱情辩护，软弱和美德使卢梭对她心生爱慕。卢梭不能把她提升到女性的一般水平，所以他殚精竭虑将女人压低得跟她一样。他发现她是适合自己的卑微的伴侣，男人的傲慢驱使他决心在自己选择相处一辈子的人身上发现一些高贵的品质；但是她在他生前死后的行为难道不能清楚表明他称她为“神圣的天真的人”是个多么荒唐的错误吗？不仅如此，在他心里他也痛苦地悲叹，他由于身体虚弱再也不能把她当作一个女人来对待时，她对他的爱情也就消散了。她做出这样的行为也很正常，因为他们之间没有什么共同的感情，一旦性关系破裂了，还有什么能够留住她呢？她的感情是局限于男性，但不是仅限于一个男人的，要想挽留她的感情，需要理性把感觉转移到更广阔的人性渠道上去。很多女人并没有足够的心思去关心一个女人，或是跟一个男人交朋友。但是性别的弱点让女人必须依赖男人的才能，对男人产生了一种猫一样的感情，让妻子在丈夫身边满足地喵喵叫，其实对任何一个喂饱并抚摸她的男人，她都会做同样的事。

但是男人却经常对这种爱情很满足，并以一种野蛮的方式把它占为己有；但是如果他们能够拥有更加高尚的品德，他们在和情妇闹够了之后一定会希望在火炉旁和一位朋友促膝长谈。

除此之外，为了给感官享受增加多样性和趣味性，理智必不可少，因为如果在既无品德又无理智赋予兽欲一点人文特征时，一个人仍然拥有爱情，这个人一定处在智力标尺的下端；但是理智总会占主导地位；因此总体上来说，如果女人的智力不上升到与男人同等的水平上，有些优秀的女人就会像希腊的高级妓女一样，将有能力的男人聚集到她们周围，吸引很多公民背叛家庭，但是如果这些人的妻子更有理智，或者因为运用理智和想象力（它们是品位的合理源泉）更具魅力的话，他们也许不会这样做。一个有才能的女人，如果她不是非常丑陋的话，往往会获得很大的权利，她的地位因为同类的软弱而得到提升；男人经过理性思考，具有美德和谨慎时，他们也希望女人拥有这些品德，而女人只有通过和男人相同的方法才能获得它们。

法国和意大利的女人将自己局限在家庭生活中了吗？虽然她们至今也无权参与政治，但是难道她们没有通过不正当的方法获得巨大的控制权，使得她们曾经玩弄过的男人随同自己一同堕落吗？总之，不管我从哪个方面来看这个问题，理智和经验告诉我，唯一能够带领女人完成她们独特责任的方法，就是将她们从各种束缚中解放出来，允许她们享有人类与生俱来的权利。

女人一旦获得自由将会很快变得聪明和有德行，而男人也会更聪明更有道德，因为这种进展是相互的，否则人类一半的成员会因为自己被迫受到的不公而向压迫者展开报复，而男人的美德也会被他踩踏在自己脚下的虫蚁蚕食殆尽。

让男人做出自己的选择吧。男人和女人是天造地设的一对，虽然二者存在并不是为了合成一体，如果男人不让女人变得更好，女人就会让男人堕落。

我这里说的是提高和解放全体女性同胞，因为我知道少数女人出于偶然或是因为天生的兴趣爱好，获得了一些超越其他女人的知识，她们总是表现得傲慢自大；但仍有些女人，获得了知识，也没有摒弃谦逊，她们从来不会自恃有点学识而鄙视她们曾经努力在内心驱除的无知愚昧。而任何关于女性学习的忠告通常引起的尖叫，特别是那些漂亮女人发出的尖叫，往往是出于嫉妒。当一个比较有教养的女人竭力转向理性交谈时，那些漂亮女人就会发现，即使是她们含情脉脉的双眸和轻浮淫荡的卖弄风情，也不会在整个夜晚一直引起男人注意。在这种情况下大家的共同慰藉就是：这样的女人很少能找到丈夫。我见过愚蠢的女人用各种各样的挑逗手段——一个描写这种花招的意味深长的词语——来打断一段富有理性的谈话，正是这样的谈话让男人忘记了她们是美丽的女人。

我们承认，拥有非凡才能的人确实很容易产生令人讨厌的傲慢自负情绪，这也是人之常情；但是当那些被讥讽为学识渊博的女人学习了一点点知识就被认为是非凡之举时，女人的才能已经枯竭到何种低下的程度！何况这些女人的学识也只足够令她们沾沾自喜，同时让她的同代人和有些异性心生嫉妒而已。不仅如此，不是还有很多女人因为有一点理性而陷入最严厉的非难吗？我注意到了一些大家都知道的事实，我经常听到女人受人嘲弄，暴露了一切微不足道的缺点，仅仅因为她们在照顾婴儿的时候，采取了一些医生的建议，没有采用常规的方法。我甚至还听到有人对改革的残酷抨击更加严重，把一个通情达理的女人污蔑为不称职的母亲，她很聪明，一直关心着孩子们的健康，但是在她的照顾下，一个孩子因为婴儿期无论如何也避免不了的事故而夭折了。她的熟人指责她，认为这是新奇想法——关于舒适和清洁的新奇想法带来的后果。那些自命经验丰富的人，一直固守某种偏见，根据最明智的医生的观点，这种偏见曾让人类大量死亡，但是他们却对这个不幸事件幸灾乐祸，因为它证实了他们的偏见。

确实，如果仅仅从这个角度来考虑的话，对于女人的国民教育也是至关重要的，因为人类已经为莫洛克［1］偏见做出了多大的牺牲啊！而男人的放荡不羁又如何以各种不同的方式毁灭着孩子。很多女人因为男人的爱慕和他人的无知而放弃自己应尽的责任，她们缺乏天然的情感，这种缺乏让人的童年比野兽的幼年还更危险；但是男人至今还不情愿将女人放在合适的处境，使她们获得足够的理智，至少明白应当如何养育婴儿。

这个事实让我最受震撼，因此我下面大部分的讨论都将与此相关，因为任何剥夺女人母性特征的倾向都会让女人丧失其女性特征。

但是现在我们自然无法指望这些软弱的母亲能够合理照顾孩子的身体，如果孩子没有受到父亲罪恶的影响，为了给良好的体质奠定基础，这种照顾非常必要；同样也无法期待这些母亲明智地引导孩子的性情，这样他长大之后就不必努力挣脱他的母亲——他的第一任导师直接或间接教给他的东西。除非孩子的心灵具有超乎寻常的活力，否则他的性格将一生带有女人的愚蠢。母亲的弱点会遗传给她的孩子。如果女人受教育要依赖她们丈夫的判断力做决定，结果必然如此，因为提高理性不能半途而废，任何人都不可能总是靠模仿做出明智的举动，在每一种生活环境下都有特殊情况，这时候需要运用判断力来调整普遍规律。一个能在某一方面恰当思考的人很快就会拓展他的知识领域；而拥有足够判断力来管教孩子的女人也不会一味地屈从于丈夫，更不会安心屈从于将女人看得一文不名的社会律法。

在公立学校里，为了防止无知的错误，应当教给女人解剖学和药理学，不仅让她们能合理照顾自己的身体，同时还能让她们成为孩子、父母和丈夫的理性的护士；因为那些固执成性的老女人，对人体构造毫不知晓，就按照自己的所谓秘方给病人治疗，正是因为她们的错误，人类死亡数字不断攀升。如果仅仅从家庭角度来看，让女人熟知心理分析，也是很合适的，采取的方法可以是让男人和女人共同学习每一门课程，引导她们观察人文科学的发展过程中人类理智的进步，同时绝不能忽略学习道德学和人类政治史。

男人被称作小宇宙，每一个家庭都可以被称作一个国家。确实，很多国家都是靠侮辱人类品格的手段统治的，而那些深谙人事的贤德人士的观点也因为缺乏公正的宪法和平等的法律而纠缠不清，使这些人更加质疑竭力争取人权的合理性。这样，道德在国家的水库中受到了污染，它释放出罪恶的支流去腐蚀政体的各个组成部分；法律应当是统治社会的力量，而不是那些执行法律的人，如果用更高尚或者准确来说更加公平的原则来规范法律，则责任也许会成为每个人的行为准则。

另外，通过锻炼身体和心灵，女人会获得母性性格所必需的精神活力，这种活力和坚毅融为一体，而坚毅则是将坚决的行为和固执反常的弱点区分开来的品质。建议懒惰的人行事坚决是很危险的，因为他们很快就会变得很严厉，为了给自己减少麻烦，会严厉惩罚犯错的人，而如果他们有耐心、有毅力地运用理智，也许这些错误就可以避免了。

但是坚毅的前提是心智的力量，而心智的力量可以通过懒惰的顺从获得吗？通过寻求建议，而不是运用理智就获得吗？通过战战兢兢地服从而不是锻炼我们所有人都亟需的忍耐力获得吗？我想得到的结论很清楚。让女人成为理智的人和自由的公民，她们很快就会成为优秀的妻子和母亲——当然是在男人不忽略他们自己作为丈夫和父亲的责任的前提下。

正如我刚才简单提及的，在讨论结合公共教育和私立教育可能带来的好处时，我主要谈论那些和女性世界密切相关的观点，因为我觉得女人是受压迫的群体；但是因压迫产生的罪恶而滋生的坏疽不会仅局限于患病的部位，而是会蔓延到整个社会；所以每当我希望女人变成更有道德的人时，我的心就会因为期待伟大的事业在各地得到弘扬而激动不已，而只有美德才能把这种伟大的事业传播开来。

注释

［1］莫洛克（Moloch）是古代腓尼基人信奉的火神，索要儿童作为祭品。——译者注

女人的无知导致的数例蠢行

结束语：论女性习俗的变革必然期望带来的道德进步

很多蠢行——无论是违反常理的越权还是渎职——在某种程度上都是女性所独有的，但这些蠢事都是因为无知或偏见导致的。我只指出那些看起来特别有损于她们道德品质的事情。在批评她们时，我特别希望能证明男人出于各种动机，竭力使女人在智力和身体上永远软弱下去，从而阻碍了女人履行她们特有的责任；当女人脆弱的身体使她们无法哺育自己的孩子，脆弱的心灵宠坏了孩子的性情时，女人的这种状态是自然状态吗？

……

第二节

狭隘的教育常常会导致女人软弱性格的另外一种情形，即心灵的浪漫扭曲，用多愁善感来形容最为贴切。

无知女人容易受她们感情的支配，她们接受的教育只是让她们从爱情中寻求幸福，提高感官享受，并且采取纯哲学的爱情观念，这种观念让她们不知羞耻地忽略人生的责任，并且在这种高尚的优雅中不断堕入真正的罪恶。

这些女人迷恋于愚蠢小说家们编造的白日梦，这些小说家们对人性知之甚少，却总是粗制滥造一些老掉牙的故事，描写一些淫荡的场面，文中堆砌着各种多愁善感的字眼，这些字眼同样也导致人们趣味低下，并且忽略日常的责任。我不谈理智，因为它从未被人利用，它沉睡的力量未被激发，就像潜伏着的火的微粒，虽然人们认为它存在于所有物质之中。

事实上，女人没有任何政治权利，而结了婚以后，除了在刑事案件中，她们不享有作为公民存在的权利，因此她们的注意力自然而然就从整个社会的利益转移到了琐碎的小事上，虽然任何社会成员如果不将个人责任和公共利益联系起来，就一定无法完美地履行他的个人责任。女人生活中的大事就是取悦于人，她们由于政治和法律上的压迫无法参与重要的事务，于是多愁善感成了大事，如果她们能够更广泛地运用理智，就不会在情感中越陷越深。

但是受困于无足轻重的琐事，她们自然而然地被那种为无知轻浮的人量身定制的庸俗读物中的观点所左右，她们无法把握任何重要的东西，所以如果她们发现读史非常枯燥，富于理智的演讲和论文非常无聊而且几乎无法理解，这又有什么值得惊奇的呢？她们必须依靠那些小说来消遣。不过我反对读小说，是把小说和那些锻炼理智、控制幻想的作品作对比来说的。我认为不论读什么都比什么都不读要好，因为稍微思考一下，心灵就一定会得到充实并获得一点力量；另外，即使是纯粹幻想的作品，也会让读者的情趣得到提升，超越粗俗的性欲满足，心灵对这种满足完全没有兴趣。

这个观点来源于经验；因为我认识几个优秀的女性，特别是其中一个，她是非常优秀的女人——达到了她狭隘的心胸所允许的最优秀的状态，她关心她的女儿（她有三个女儿），不准她们看小说。她是一个富有的上层人物，所以她请了好几个老师来教孩子，还有一个家仆似的女教师来跟踪她们的一举一动。她们从老师那里学会了如何用法语和意大利语表达桌子、椅子等，但是因为摆在她们面前的几本书远远超过了她们的接受能力，或者说信仰的接受能力，所以她们既没有获得思想也没有获得情感，在她们不需要背诵单词的时候，就把时间消磨在穿着打扮、相互争吵或者是偷听女仆的谈话，直到她们到了出嫁的年龄，找到伴侣为止。

与此同时，她们的母亲——这位寡妇，也忙于和有头有脸的人保持联系，正如她所说的，要多认识一点人，以免她的几个女儿因缺少合适的人介绍而无法进入上层社会。这些年轻的淑女们，成了不折不扣的粗俗人，带着乖戾的脾性走入了社会，她们脑子里满是自命不凡的想法，鄙夷地看着那些穿着和排场比不上她们的人。

至于爱情，造物主或者说她们的育婴者已经费心教给她们这个词的自然含义；由于她们没有什么可谈论的话题，也缺乏优雅的感情，当她们自由谈论婚姻时，只能用一些很不优雅的词句来表达她们粗俗的愿望。

这些女孩也是受了小说的毒害吗？我差点忘了她们中间某个人性格上有阴影，她装出一种近乎愚蠢的单纯样，面带傻笑毫不害羞地说出极其粗俗无礼的评价和问题，她在与世隔绝的时候就已经完全明白了这些词的意义，只是不敢在施加高压的母亲面前谈起；正如她炫耀的那样，她们接受的是模范教育，每天早餐前背诵《圣经》中的章节，从来不会去读那些愚蠢的小说。

这只是一个例子而已；但是我还记得有很多其他的女人，没有适当接受循序渐进的教育，也不允许做出自由的选择，她们简直不过是畸形发展的孩子；或者有的女人在同社会接触中获得了一些所谓的常识，其实也就获得了她们独立生活时清楚看待平常事物的方法；但是那些称得上智力的本事，即获取普遍或抽象概念的能力，或者甚至是获得中间概念的能力，都谈不上。她们的思维处在沉睡状态，她们在没有受到那些感官事物或者事件刺激时就会情绪低落，或是痛哭或是睡觉。

可见，我劝告女性同胞们不要读那些肤浅的作品时，是想建议她们多读些更好的作品；我的这个想法恰好和一位智慧的男人吻合，受他管教的女儿和侄女，在他的照顾下采取了完全不同的教育方式。

他的侄女智力超群，在托给他照顾之前沉溺于各种读物。他努力并且成功地引导她阅读历史和道德文集；但是他的女儿，被软弱的溺爱母亲惯坏了，对每件需要努力用功的事情都很反感，于是他就让她读小说；他曾经这样解释自己的做法，只要她因读小说感受到了一点乐趣，他就能在这个基础上对她进行教育；错误的观点总比什么想法也没有好得多。

确实，女性的思维一直被人们完全忽视，这就使她们只能从这些污秽的源泉中获得知识，直到有些才能出众的女人从读小说中学会了鄙视这样的书籍为止。

我想，纠正女性对小说的偏爱的最好办法就是嘲弄它们：但不是没有取舍地嘲弄，因为这样效果不大；但是如果一个明智的人带着幽默感给年轻女孩子读上几篇，并同时用语调将之与历史中的动人故事和英雄气概作恰当对比，指出小说是如何愚蠢而可笑地丑化了人类的天性，也许公正的观点就能代替浪漫情怀了。

但是大部分男人和女人在一个方面是相似的，而且同样地缺乏品位和庄重。无知的女人为了名誉不得不保持贞操，因此任由想象力在当代小说家描绘的不合理的淫荡画面中尽情肆意，认为历史上严肃庄重的事迹和妇女的优美形象平淡无奇，对之不屑一顾；而男人干脆将腐朽的品位带入生活，抛弃质朴迷人的美德和庄重体面的理性，追求色情之乐。

此外，阅读小说还让女人，特别是上层社会的淑女，喜欢在谈话中用强烈的措辞和极端的表达；虽然她们放荡虚伪的生活让她们无法培养出任何强烈的真实情感，但是她们如簧的巧舌却总能用矫揉造作的声调蹦出热情的语言，而且芝麻粒大的事情都能带来突然的磷光，而这些磷光只不过是对黑暗中热情之火的模仿罢了。

第三节

造物主在弱者脑子里刻下的作为自卫原则的无知和错误的狡猾，让女人非常热衷于梳妆打扮，而这种热爱自然会导致各种虚荣，甚而超出了争强好胜和宽宏大量的限度。

卢梭认为取悦于人的手段的有形部分在于装饰美化，我同意他的看法，也正因如此，我要提防女孩子染上流传甚广的软弱女人常见的对于穿着的钟爱，让她们不要停留在有形部分。不过，女人们幻想她们可以长期受人宠爱，而不诉诸理智，或者换句话说，不诉诸取悦于人的道德艺术，她们是多么软弱啊。但是当这种道德艺术（如果使用艺术这个词不至于亵渎上帝的话）所指的优美并不是行为的动机，而是美德的结果时，这种道德艺术永远不可能和无知并存；两性中故作矜持的放荡之徒喜好的那种无知的调戏和这种高级的优雅在本质上有很大不同。

对于外表装饰的强烈爱好，在蛮荒时代就曾经出现过，不过当时打扮自己的是男人而不是女人；现在允许女人在这一方面和男人处在同一水平，社会至少已经在文明进展中前行了一步。

因此我认为，穿着打扮对于人类来说很自然，虽然人们一直认为这是女性的嗜好。但是我应该把我的观点说得更明确点。思维还未完全发展，不能从思考中获取快乐时，就会十分注意打扮自己的身体；而抱负也只会表现在文身或涂脂抹粉上面。

人类对这最初的爱好迷恋至深，甚至奴隶制度地狱般的枷锁都不能扼杀这些黑人英雄从他们父母那里继承下来的对于美貌的野蛮渴望，因为一个奴隶辛辛苦苦攒下的积蓄一般都花在便宜花哨的衣服上了。我还真没有见过哪个善良的男仆或女仆不爱修饰。他们的衣服就是他们的财产；而我用类比同理推证，女性过分爱好打扮也是出于同样的原因——心灵培养的匮乏。男人相遇会谈论事业、政治或者文学；但是正如斯威夫特［1］所言：“女人们多么自然地就会伸手去抚摸彼此衣服的裙摆和褶纹啊。”这也很自然，因为她们没有感兴趣的事业，没有文学的品位，而且她们认为政治枯燥无趣，没有把精力转到提升整个人类、增进共同幸福的伟大事业上来，因此缺乏对人类的博爱。

另外，男人出于偶然或选择而走上不同的追求权势和名誉的道路，虽然因为同行是冤家，他们相互争斗，但是他们还是不会和大多数男人发生冲突。可是女人之间的关系却与此大相径庭，因为女人总是相互竞争。

她们出嫁以前的任务就是取悦男人，结婚之后仍然本能地以锲而不舍的顽强精神做着同样的事情。即使是有道德的女人在社交中也从来不会忘记自己是女人，因为她们总是努力让自己讨人喜欢。女人的美貌和男人的才智似乎都同样急切地希望将人群的目光吸引到自己身上；而憎恨同代人的才智也是众所周知的。

女人把所有的志向局限于美貌上面，对美貌的兴趣又加重了她们的虚荣心，这些导致女人间无休止的争风吃醋，又有什么大惊小怪的呢？她们都在进行同一场竞争，如果她们不以怀疑甚至嫉妒的眼光对待彼此，也许她们就会拥有常人无法企及的德行。

对于打扮、享乐和权利的过度追捧，是野蛮人的欲望；这种欲望占据了他们尚未开化的心灵，他们没有开发智力，更没有学会如何思考，如何运用能力将一连串抽象的思维联系起来，进而总结出原则；而女人，从她们的教育和文化生活的现状来看，也处在同样的境地，我想，这是个无可争辩的事实。当一个人从来没有权利按照自己的理智自由行动时，嘲笑甚至是讥讽她们的愚蠢是既荒谬又残忍的；因为受教导要盲目服从权威的人都会努力巧妙地躲避权威，这是合情合理，也是必然的。

如果能证明女人应当完全服从男人，我就会立即承认，女人的责任就是培养对服饰的喜好，以取悦别人；并为了保全自己，养成狡猾的毛病。

但是建立在无知基础上的品德肯定会一直摇摇欲坠，正如沙滩上的房子无法经受暴风雨的捶打。做这个推断几乎都是毫无必要的。如果要用权威强迫女人变得有道德（这本身就是一个矛盾的说法），那就把她们禁闭在闺房，并用猜忌的眼光看待她们。不要担心她们的心灵会受到伤害，因为能够忍受如此待遇的心灵是用柔软材料做成的，这些材料拥有足够的活力使她们的身体拥有生命。

柔软的材料无法铭记永恒的记号，

最便于辨认的只是黑色、棕色或白色。

最痛苦的创伤当然很快就会愈合，女人仍旧可以生儿育女，让人类的世界得以生存，她仍会精心打扮去取悦男人——这就是某些著名的作者所认为的女人注定要实现的目标。

第四节

人们认为女人应当比男人更重感情、更仁慈，这可以从她们强烈的爱情和瞬间的同情心看出来；但是这种出于无知的依赖性爱情却没有任何高贵成分，而且很可能转变为自私的或是孩童或是野兽般原始的感情。我认识很多软弱的女人，她们把感情完全灌输到丈夫身上；而她们的仁慈实在微不足道，倒不如说是转瞬即逝的同情心而己。一个优秀的演说家说过，仁慈不仅需要“一个敏感的耳朵，还需要投入智慧和感情。”

但是这种独断排他的爱情虽然使人陷于堕落，但是却不能拿来当作证明女性低劣地位的证据，因为这是狭隘观点的必然结果；即使是拥有远见卓识的女人，如果她们把注意力集中在烦琐的小事和个人的计划上，也很少会做出什么英雄事迹，当然她受到爱情激励的时候除外！然而爱情是一种崇高的感情，就如天才一样，百年罕见。因此我同意一个道德学家的观点，他断言“女人很少能像男人那样慷慨大方”；而她们经常为了狭隘的感情而牺牲公正和仁慈，这种感情明显地让她们显得更为低劣，特别是因为这些感情通常都是由男人激起的，不过我仍然相信如果女人不是从出生起就饱受压迫的话，随着理智的发展，她们的心胸也会宽广起来。

我知道轻微的敏感加上极度的软弱就会对异性产生强烈的依恋，而理智可以促进友谊；因此我承认男人比女人拥有更多的友谊，而且男人的正义感更强。女人专断的爱情看起来确实很像加图［2］对他国家的那种极其没有正义感的感情。他主张消灭迦太基，不是为了挽救罗马，而是为了增强他的虚荣心；一般来说，仁慈也是为了同样的原则而牺牲的，因为真正的责任是相互支撑的。

此外，女人沦为不公正的奴隶时，她们怎么可能会公正或慷慨呢？

第五节

人们充满正义感地坚持认为，养育子女，为下一代的身心健康打下良好的基础，是女人独特的责任，因此让她们无能的愚蠢一定是有悖常理的。我坚信，她们的头脑可以，而且应当容纳更多的知识，否则她们将永远无法成为理智的母亲。很多人注重马匹的繁殖，却不管马厩的管理，这些人如此缺乏理智和感情，真是难以想象！他们认为对育婴室稍加留意就会降低自己的身份；可是有多少孩子完全是因为母亲的无知而夭折！但是如果他们能够有幸逃脱死亡的厄运，也没有因不人道的忽视或盲目的溺爱而毁灭，又有多少孩子的心灵能得到合理的培育呢？人们认为孩子在家就会变得乖戾暴躁，为了打消他的锐气，家长把他送到学校；而为了在一大群孩子中建立秩序，学校必须采取各种各样的措施，这些措施几乎将所有的罪恶种子都播撒到了这片强行开垦的土地上。

如果孩子受到合理的管教，他们永远不应该也不会感到受约束，我经常将这些可怜孩子的挣扎，和活泼的小马驹绝望的蹦跶作对比，我曾看到一匹小马在海滩上接受驯服，每当它试图甩掉骑马人的时候，它的双蹄只会在沙中越陷越深，直到它最后无可奈何地屈服。

我发现当我用仁慈和一贯的态度对待马——我喜爱的动物——的时候，它们常常都很驯服，因此我怀疑那些粗暴的驯马手段能不能真正伤到它们；但是我坚信绝不能在不理智地允许一个孩子放肆之后强制他听话；因为在对待孩子时，任何违反公正和理智的行为都会削弱他们的智力。经验让我做出推断，他们的性格塑成期非常早，甚至在七岁以前就形成了道德品行的基础，这期间孩子的母亲被认为是唯一的管教者。以后经常出现这样的情况，教育一半的责任就是纠正孩子们的错误，而如果过于急于求成，效果常常很不完满；其实如果他们的母亲更理智一些，他们就绝对不会犯这样的错误。

另一个表现妇女愚蠢的突出事例绝不能忽略。她们在孩子面前对待仆人的态度，让孩子们认为仆人应该伺候他们，应该忍受他们的臭脾气。孩子应当总是将接受男人或女人的帮助当作一种恩惠；作为独立的第一节课，应该以他们的母亲为榜样用事实教育他们，不要让别人服侍自己，因为在自己身体健康时让别人服侍自己是对人性的侮辱；不要引导他们表现出一副自命不凡的架子，让他们意识到，自己的弱点可以首先让他们意识到人类生来平等。可是我经常愤怒地听到家长趾高气昂地使唤仆人们过来伺候小孩子睡觉，又一次次地将他们打发走，因为少爷或小姐还想赖在妈妈身边多呆一会。这样奴隶般地伺候这个小祖宗，让孩子身上所有令人讨厌的脾气都发作了，就这样宠坏了这个孩子。

总之，大多数的母亲都会把自己的孩子完全交给仆人照顾；不然就因为他们是自己的孩子把他们当神仙似的供着，但是据我一贯的观察，那些把自己的孩子奉为神仙的女人很少对仆人表现出一般的仁慈，或是对其他人的孩子表现出哪怕是一丁点疼爱。

这些无知专断的感情和个人看待事物的方式，使女人在发展方面总是停滞不前，还让很多女人为了孩子呕心沥血，结果却削弱了他们的体质，宠坏了他们的脾气，同时还让一个比较理性的父亲可能采用的任何教育方案无效，因为如果没有母亲的合作，一个管教孩子的父亲总是会被当成暴君。

一个体格健全的女人在履行母亲的责任时，仍然可以一丝不苟地保持个人容貌的整洁，必要时帮助管理家庭，或用读书和毫无区别地同男人和女人交谈的方法来提升自己的理智。因为造物主非常英明地将一切事情安排得井井有条，如果女人哺乳她们的孩子，她们就会保持自身的健康，并且不同孩子出生期之间会有一段间隔，因此我们很少会见到满屋子都是孩子的状况。如果她们遵循行为规划，不将光阴虚度在追求时髦服装的奇怪念头上面，照料家务和孩子不会让她们和文学作品完全隔离，也不会妨碍她们以一种有助于加强心智的坚定态度爱好一门科学，或者学习一种能够培养情操的优雅艺术。

但是，为了炫耀华丽服饰的走亲访友、打牌和舞会，更不要提清晨无聊地奔忙于琐事，女人忽略了她们的责任，并因此变得微不足道，还因此变得讨人喜欢，按照这个词目前的意义来说，是讨所有男人的喜欢，除了自己的丈夫。因为提到一场没有运用什么感情的享乐，我们不能说它促进了理智的发展，虽然人们错误地称这种享乐为见过世面；这种毫无意义的交际，让人的内心变得冷漠和逃避责任，甚至当这种交际不再能带给人快乐的时候，由于习惯它仍旧必不可少。

除非更多的公平得以在社会上建立，等级得以废除、女人得以解放，否则我们是不会看到女人拥有深厚感情的，我们也不会看到高尚的家庭幸福，无知和堕落的人无法体味到这种幸福质朴的庄严；同样只有在人们更看重女人的思想而不是容貌之时，教育的艰巨任务才能真正有序地开始。因为指望愚蠢无知的女人成为优秀的母亲，就如同盼望莠草上结出谷粒，或是荆棘上长出无花果一样愚蠢。

第六节

现在我的讨论进入结束语阶段了，我没有必要告诉聪明的读者，关于这个话题的探讨仅仅局限于提出一些简单的原则，并扫除那些让这些简单的原则变得晦涩难懂的废话。但是，因为并不是所有的读者都是洞悉一切的人，所以必须允许我稍加解释，以便让那些有理性的人完全明白这个问题——我说的是那些怠惰的有理性的人，这些人轻信别人的意见，并且为了免去自己思索的麻烦而顽固地坚信不疑。

道德学家曾达成一致意见，品德若没有自由来培育就永远得不到应有的力量，这是他们针对男人的评论，我把它拓展到整个人类，我坚持认为，在一切情形下，道德都应当固定在不变的基础上；而一个服从除了理性以外其他任何权威的人，就不能称之为理性或是有道德的人。

为了让女人成为社会上真正有用的人，我主张应当大范围培养她们的理智，引导她们获得一种建立在知识基础上的合理的爱国之情，因为很明显，我们很少会对自己不了解的东西感兴趣。为了让这种一般性的知识得到应有的重视，我已经努力说明除非理智让心胸开阔，否则个人的责任永远不可能合理履行，而公德不过是私德的整体而已。但是社会上既定的各种区别，把品德的坚固黄金捶打得仅仅成为掩盖罪恶的金箔而让公德和私德受到了伤害；因为财富比美德更能为人赢得尊重时，人们就会追求财富而不是道德；女人的外表受到抚爱，幼稚的傻笑表现了她内心的空虚时，女人的心灵就会荒芜。然而真正的感官之乐是来源于心灵的——有什么感情能和起源于相互爱慕、并由相互尊重而维持的感情相媲美呢？那些冷酷或狂热的肉欲爱抚，相对于纯洁感情和崇高想象的适度表露相比，不是孕育着死亡的罪恶又是什么呢？是的，充满幻想的放荡之徒鄙视女人的理智时，让我告诉他正是他漠视的心灵赋予一切热烈的感情以生命，只有这种感情才能带来快乐，虽然这种快乐转瞬即逝。我还要告诉他没有道德的性爱关系，正如烛台上的蜡烛一样，必然会熄灭，产生让人难以忍受的厌恶。为了证明这一点我只需指出，那些把人生大部分时间浪费在和女人厮混、带着强烈的饥渴与她们寻欢作乐的男人，对女人怀着最粗鄙的看法。道德，你是快乐真正的提炼者！如果愚蠢的人要把你从地球上吓走，以便毫无节制地放任他们的肉欲，那些懂得情趣的好色之徒为了给激情增添一点趣味，一定会爬上天堂把你请回来！

现在的女人因为无知而变得愚蠢恶毒，我想这是无须争辩的事实；似乎从我的论述之中可以得到以下结论：人们也许可以期待，一场妇女作风的“变革”会带来有助于提高整个人类的最有益的效果，至少是有这种可能性。因为婚姻被称作使人类区别于禽兽的那些可爱的慈悲之源，而财富、懒惰和愚蠢在两性之间造成的腐败交往对道德造成了普遍的危害，这种危害比人类所有其他的罪恶共同对道德造成的危害还大。最圣洁的责任因淫乱的情欲而牺牲，男人在婚前同女人过多的亲密接触，学会了将爱情当作一种自私的满足——不仅将爱情和尊重分开，而且把爱情和仅仅以掺杂了一点点人性的习惯为基础的感情分开。正义和友情也公然受到挑战，纯洁的感情受到破坏，这种感情自然而然地引导人们享受毫不做作的感情表露而不是矫揉造作的姿态。但是那些敢于毫不掩饰地出现的高贵质朴的感情，对好色之徒没有任何吸引力，尽管这种感情是一种魅力，通过加强婚姻的纽带，让温暖爱情的结晶得到来自父母的关注；在父母拥有友情之前，孩子是永远不可能得到恰当教育的。品德会飞离一个内部分崩离析的家庭，任由一群魔鬼驻留。

丈夫和妻子之间没有什么共同情感，家庭里面无法建立相互信任时，男人和女人之间就不可能拥有纯粹的感情，他们的追求不同时必然也会出现这种情况。那种孕育柔情的亲密关系不会，也不可能存在于邪恶人之间。

所以我坚决认为，那种男人们强烈坚持的男女之间的差别是很武断的，我一直在思考一个观点，几个我曾与之谈论过这个话题的理智的男人承认，这个观点是有理有据的；简单说来就是这样，很少存在于男性群体的贞洁和他们对廉耻之心的抛弃，很可能造成两性的共同堕落；不仅如此，成为女性特征的端庄的品质，经常不过是掩盖放荡之心的虚伪面纱，而不是纯洁的自然反应，除非廉耻之心普遍得到尊重。

我坚信，大部分女人的愚蠢行为产生于男人的专制，而狡猾（我承认狡猾目前是女性性格的一部分）是由压迫造成的，我也曾多次努力证明这个论点。

举个例子，异教徒不也千真万确地被刻画成是一伙奸诈的人吗？我是否可以强调这个事实以证明：理智以外的任何力量遏制了人类的自由精神时，人们就会弄虚作假，自然也就会出现各种形形色色的伎俩？巴特勒［3］对异教徒的讽刺将这样一幅景象摆在我们面前：对礼法的苛求已经到了让人拘谨的程度，而所有关于琐事的幼稚忙碌和自命不凡的庄严嘴脸，把他们的外貌和内心都塑造成一副呆板的卑鄙小人形象。我是针对整体而言的，因为我知道在各个宗教派系里，有不少教徒拥有能为人性增光的优秀品质；但是我敢断言，如同女人对家庭持有偏见一样，在异教徒社区一定会流行一种对于自己教派的狭隘偏见，虽然他们在其他方面值得敬佩；而且我认为他们和女人一样胆怯谨慎，鲁莽顽固，这些特质经常为异教徒和女人的努力蒙羞。压迫让他们在性格上形成了很多特点，和人类中受压迫的半数人的特点完全吻合；因为异教徒就像女人一样，喜欢聚在一起思考，相互征求意见，直到通过一些错综复杂的小伎俩，来达到一些琐碎的目的，这难道不是人人皆知的吗？在异教徒和女人的世界里，他们同样注意保护自己的名声，并且是出于同样的原因。

我主张女人应该和男人一样争取权利，但是我并未试图掩盖她们的过失；我只是证明这些过失是她们接受的教育和社会地位产生的自然结果。因此我们有理由相信，她们在身体、道德和公民地位上获得自由时，就会改变自己的性情，并且避免自己的罪恶和愚蠢。

让女人享受权利，她就可在品德上效仿男人；她得以解放的时候，就一定会变得更加完美，否则就证实了将软弱的女人束缚在她职责上的权威是正确的。如果是后者的话，同俄国一起开辟一个贩卖鞭子的新行业倒是权宜之计：这将是一位父亲在女婿成婚之日送给他的礼物，而丈夫也需要通过这种方法维持家庭的秩序；他只要挥舞这根权杖，就拥有了统治权，不会违反任何公正，他是家庭唯一的主人，因为家中只有他拥有理智：这是宇宙的主人赋予人神圣不容废除的尘世间的统治权。如果女人承认了自己的这种地位，就不享有任何天生的权利；而根据同样的规则，也无须承担任何义务，因为权利和义务是不可分割的。

哦，你们这些有理智的男人，何不变得公正起来？不要关注女人犯的错比关注你们所饲养的马或驴的恶习还要严厉——既然你们剥夺了女人理性的权利，那就允许她们有无知的特权吧；否则如果你们期待从造物主没有给予理智的人身上寻找美德，那你们真是连埃及的监工都比不上。

注释

［1］乔纳森·斯威夫特（Jonathan Swift, 1667—1745），英国著名的讽刺作家。——译者注

［2］加图（Cato，公元前234—前149），古罗马政治家、爱国者。公元前175年出使迦太基，发现迦太基的强大，故主张消灭这个城市。——译者注

［3］巴特勒（Alban Butler,1711—1773），天主教徒，传记作家。——译者注

Mary Wollstonecraft

A Vindication of the Rights

of Woman

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

英文目录

Contents

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

Author’s Introduction

The Prevailing Opinion of a Sexual Character Discussed

The Same Subject Continued

Observations on the State of Degradation to which Woman is Reduced by Various Causes

Morality Undermined by Sexual Notions of the Importance of a Good Reputation

Of the Pernicious Effects which Arise from the Unnatural Distinctions Established in Society

On National Education

Some Instances of the Folly which the Ignorance of Women Generates; with Concluding Reflections on the Moral Improvement that a Revolution in Female Manners Might Naturally Be Expected to Produce

返回分册总目录

Author's Introduction

After considering the historic page, and viewing the living world with anxious solicitude, the most melancholy emotions of sorrowful indignation have depressed my spirits, and I have sighed when obliged to confess that either Nature has made a great difference between man and man, or that the civilization which has hitherto taken place in the world has been very partial. I have turned over various books written on the subject of education, and patiently observed the conduct of parents and the management of schools; but what has been the result? — a profound conviction that the neglected education of my fellow-creatures is the grand source of the misery I deplore, and that women, in particular, are rendered weak and wretched by a variety of concurring causes, originating from one hasty conclusion. The conduct and manners of women, in fact, evidently prove that their minds are not in a healthy state; for, like the flowers which are planted in too rich a soil, strength and usefulness are sacrificed to beauty; and the flaunting leaves, after having pleased a fastidious eye, fade, disregarded on the stalk, long before the season when they ought to have arrived at maturity. One cause of this barren blooming I attribute to a false system of education, gathered from the books written on this subject by men who, considering females rather as women than human creatures, have been more anxious to make them alluring mistresses than affectionate wives and rational mothers; and the understanding of the sex has been so bubbled by this specious homage, that the civilized women of the present century, with a few exceptions, are only anxious to inspire love, when they ought to cherish a nobler ambition, and by their abilities and virtues exact respect.

In a treatise, therefore, on female rights and manners, the works which have been particularly written for their improvement must not be overlooked, especially when it is asserted, in direct terms, that the minds of women are enfeebled by false refinement; that the books of instruction, written by men of genius, have had the same tendency as more frivolous productions; and that, in the true style of Mahometanism, they are treated as a kind of subordinate beings, and not as a part of the human species, when improvable reason is allowed to be the dignified distinction which raises men above the brute creation, and puts a natural sceptre in a feeble hand.

Yet, because I am a woman, I would not lead my readers to suppose that I mean violently to agitate the contested question respecting the quality or inferiority of the sex; but as the subject lies in my way, and I cannot pass it over without subjecting the main tendency of my reasoning to misconstruction, I shall stop a moment to deliver, in a few words, my opinion. In the government of the physical world it is observable that the female in point of strength is, in general, inferior to the male. This is the law of Nature; and it does not appear to be suspended or abrogated in favour of woman. A degree of physical superiority cannot, therefore, be denied, and it is a noble prerogative! But not content with this natural pre-eminence, men endeavour to sink us still lower, merely to render us alluring objects for a moment; and women, intoxicated by the adoration which men, under the influence of their senses, pay them, do not seek to obtain a durable interest in their hearts, or to become the friends of the fellow-creatures who find amusement in their society.

I am aware of an obvious inference. From every quarter have I heard exclamations against masculine women, but where are they to be found? If by this appellation men mean to inveigh against their ardour in hunting, shooting, and gaming, I shall most cordially join in the cry; but if it be against the imitation of manly virtues, or, more properly speaking, the attainment of those talents and virtues, the exercise of which ennobles the human character, and which raise females in the scale of animal being, when they are comprehensively termed mankind, all those who view them with a philosophic eye must, I should think, wish with me, that they may every day grow more and more masculine.

This discussion naturally divides the subject. I shall first consider women in the grand light of human creatures, who, in common with men, are placed on this earth to unfold their faculties; and afterwards I shall more particularly point out their peculiar designation.

I wish also to steer clear of an error which many respectable writers have fallen into; for the instruction which has hitherto been addressed to women, has rather been applicable to ladies, if the little indirect advice that is scattered through ‘sandford and Merton'be excepted; but, addressing my sex in a firmer tone, I pay particular attention to those in the middle class, because they appear to be in the most natural state. Perhaps the seeds of false refinement, immorality, and vanity, have ever been shed by the great. Weak, artificial beings, raised above the common wants and affections of their race, in a premature unnatural manner, undermine the very foundation of virtue, and spread corruption through the whole mass of society! As a class of mankind they have the strongest claim to pity; the education of the rich tends to render them vain and helpless, and the unfolding mind is not strengthened by the practice of those duties which dignify the human character. They only live to amuse themselves, and by the same law which in Nature invariably produces certain effects, they soon only afford barren amusement.

But as I purpose taking a separate view of the different ranks of society, and of the moral character of women in each, this hint is for the present sufficient; and I have only alluded to the subject, because it appears to me to be the very essence of an introduction to give a cursory account of the contents of the work it introduces.

My own sex, I hope, will excuse me, if I treat them like rational creatures, instead of flattering their fascinating graces, and viewing them as if they were in a state of perpetual childhood, unable to stand alone. I earnestly wish to point out in what true dignity and human happiness consists. I wish to persuade women to endeavour to acquire strength, both of mind and body, and to convince them that the soft phrases, susceptibility of heart, delicacy of sentiment, and refinement of taste, are almost synonymous with epithets of weakness, and that those beings who are only the objects of pity, and that kind of love, which has been termed its sister, will soon become objects of contempt.

Dismissing, then, those pretty feminine phrases, which the men condescendingly use to soften our slavish dependence, and despising that weak elegancy of mind, exquisite sensibility, and sweet docility of manners, supposed to be the sexual characteristics of the weaker vessel, I wish to show that elegance is inferior to virtue, that the first object of laudable ambition is to obtain a character as a human being, regardless of the distinction of sex; and that secondary views should be brought to this simple touchstone.

This is a rough sketch of my plan; and should I express my conviction with the energetic emotions that I feel whenever I think of the subject, the dictates of experience and reflection will be felt by some of my readers. Animated by this important object, I shall disdain to cull my phrases or polish my style. I aim at being useful, and sincerity will render me unaffected; for wishing rather to persuade by the force of my arguments, than dazzle by the elegance of my language, I shall not waste my time in rounding periods, or in fabricating the turgid bombast of artificial feelings, which, coming from the head, never reach the heart. I shall be employed about things, not words! and, anxious to render my sex more respectable members of society, I shall try to avoid that flowery diction which has slided from essays into novels, and from novels into familiar letters and conversations.

These pretty superlatives, dropping glibly from the tongue, vitiate the taste, and create a kind of sickly delicacy that turns away from simple unadorned truth; and a deluge of false sentiments and over stretched feelings, stifling the natural emotions of the heart, render the domestic pleasures insipid, that ought to sweeten the exercise of those severe duties, which educate a rational and immortal being for a nobler field of action.

The education of women has of late been more attended to than formerly; yet they are still reckoned a frivolous sex, and ridiculed or pitied by the writers who endeavour by satire or instruction to improve them. It is acknowledged that they spend many of the first years of their lives in acquiring a smattering of accomplishments: meanwhile, strength of body and mind are sacrificed to libertine notions of beauty, to the desire of establishing themselves – the only way women can rise in the world – by marriage. And this desire making mere animals of them, when they marry they act as such children may be expected to act – they dress; they paint, and nickname God's creatures. Surely these weak beings are only fit a the seraglio! Can they be expected to govern a family with judgement, or take care of the poor babes whom they bring into the world?

If, then, it can be fairly deduced from the present conduct of the sex, from the prevalent fondness for pleasure, which takes place of ambition and those nobler passions that open and enlarge the soul, that the instruction which women have hitherto received has only tended, with the constitution of civil society, to render them insignificant objects of desire – mere propagators of fools! – if it can be proved that in aiming to accomplish them, without cultivating their understandings, they are taken out of their sphere of duties, and made ridiculous and useless when the short – lived bloom of beauty is over, I presume that rational men will excuse me for endeavouring to persuade them to become more masculine and respectable.

Indeed the word masculine is only a bugbear; there is little reason to fear that women will acquire too much courage or fortitude, for their apparent inferiority with respect to bodily strength, must render them in some degree dependent on men in the various relations of life; but why should it be increased by prejudices that give a sex to virtue, and confound simple truths with sensual reveries?

Women are, in fact, so much degraded by mistaken notions of female excellence, that I do not mean to add a paradox when I assert that this artificial weakness produces a propensity to tyrannize, and gives birth to cunning, the natural opponent of strength, which leads them to play off those contemptible infantile airs that undermine esteem even whilst they excite desire. Let men become more chaste and modest, and if women do not grow wiser in the same ratio it will be clear that they have weaker understandings. It seems scarcely necessary to say that I now speak of the sex in general. Many individuals have more sense than their male relatives; and, as nothing preponderates where there is a constant struggle for an equilibrium without it has naturally more gravity, some women govern their husbands without degrading themselves, because intellect will always govern.

The Prevailing Opinion of a Sexual Character Discussed

To account for, and excuse the tyranny of man, many ingenious arguments have been brought forward to prove, that the two sexes, in the acquirement of virtue, ought to aim at attaining a very different character; or, to speak explicitly, women are not allowed to have sufficient strength of mind to acquire what really deserves the name of virtue. Yet it should seem, allowing them to have souls, that there is but one way appointed by Providence to lead mankind to either virtue or happiness.

If then women are not a swarm of ephemeron triflers, why should they be kept in ignorance under the specious name of innocence? Men complain, and with reason, of the follies and caprices of our sex, when they do not keenly satirise our headstrong passions and grovelling vices. Behold, I should answer, the natural effect of ignorance! The mind will ever be unstable that has only prejudices to rest on, and the current will run with destructive fury when there are no barriers to break its force. Women are told from their infancy, and taught by the example of their mothers, that a little knowledge of human weakness, justly termed cunning, softness of temper, outward obedience, and a scrupulous attention to a puerile kind of propriety, will obtain for them the protection of man; and should they be beautiful, everything else is needless, for at least twenty years of their lives.

Thus Milton describes our first frail mother; though when he tells us that women are formed for softness and sweet attractive grace, I cannot comprehend his meaning, unless, in the true Mahometan strain, he meant to deprive us of souls, and insinuate that we were beings only designed by sweet attractive grace, and docile blind obedience, to gratify the senses of man when he can no longer soar on the wing of contemplation.

How grossly do they insult us who thus advise us only to render ourselves gentle, domestic brutes! For instance, the winning softness so warmly and frequently recommended, that governs by obeying. What childish expressions, and how insignificant is the being – can it be an immortal one? – who will condescend to govern by such sinister methods? ‘Certainly,' says Lord Bacon,‘man is of kin to the beasts by his body; and if he be not of kin to God by his spirit, he is a base and ignoble creature!' Men, indeed, appear to me to act in a very unphilosophical manner, when they try to secure the good conduct of women by attempting to keep them always in a state of childhood. Rousseau was more consistent when he wished to stop the progress of reason in both sexes, for if men eat of the tree of knowledge, women will come in for a taste; but, from the imperfect cultivation which their understandings now receive, they only attain a knowledge of evil.

Children, I grant, should be innocent; but when the epithet is applied to men, or women, it is but a civil term for weakness. For if it be allowed that women were destined by Providence to acquire human virtues, and, by the exercise of their understandings, that stability of character which is the firmest ground to rest our future hopes upon, they must be permitted to turn to the fountain of light, and not forced to shape their course by the twinkling of a mere satellite. Milton, I grant, was of a very different opinion; for he only bends to the indefeasible right of beauty, though it would be difficult to render two passages which I now mean to contrast, consistent. But into similar inconsistencies are great men often led by their senses:

To whom thus Eve with perfect beauty adorn'd.

My author and disposer, what thou bid'st

Unargued I obey; so God ordains;

God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more

Is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise.

These are exactly the arguments that I have used to children; but I have added, your reason is now gaining strength, and, till it arrives at some degree of maturity, you must look up to me for advice, – then you ought to think, and only rely on God [...]

In treating therefore of the manners of women, let us, disregarding sensual arguments, trace what we should endeavour to make them in order to co-operate, if the expression be not too bold, with the Supreme Being.

By individual education, I mean, for the sense of the word is not precisely defined, such an attention to a child as will slowly sharpen the senses, form the temper, regulate the passions as they begin to ferment, and set the understanding to work before the body arrives at maturity; so that the man may only have to proceed, not to begin, the important task of learning to think and reason.

To prevent any misconstruction, I must add, that I do not believe that a private education can work the wonders which some sanguine writers have attributed to it. Men and women must be educated, in a great degree, by the opinions and manners of the society they live in. In every age there has been a stream of popular opinion that has carried all before it, and given a family character, as it were, to the century. It may then fairly be inferred, that, till society be differently constituted, much cannot be expected from education. It is, however, sufficient for my present purpose to assert that, whatever effect circumstances have on the abilities, every being may become virtuous by the exercise of its own reason; for if but one being was created with vicious inclinations, that is positively bad, what can save us from atheism? or if we worship a God, is not that God a devil?

Consequently, the most perfect education, in my opinion, is such an exercise of the understanding as is best calculated to strengthen the body and form the heart. Or, in other words, to enable the individual to attain such habits of virtue as will render it independent. In fact, it is a farce to call any being virtuous whose virtues do not result from the exercise of its own reason. This was Rousseau's opinion respecting men; I extend it to women, and confidently assert that they have been drawn out of their sphere by false refinement, and not by an endeavour to acquire masculine qualities. Still the regal homage which they receive is so intoxicating, that until the manners of the times are changed, and formed on more reasonable principles, it may be impossible to convince them that the illegitimate power which they obtain by degrading themselves is a curse, and that they must return to nature and equality if they wish to secure the placid satisfaction that unsophisticated affections impart. But for this epoch we must wait – wait perhaps till kings and nobles, enlightened by reason, and, preferring the real dignity of man to childish state, throw off their gaudy hereditary trappings; and if then women do not resign the arbitrary power of beauty – they will prove that they have less mind than man.

I may be accused of arrogance; still I must declare what I firmly believe, that all the writers who have written on the subject of female education and manners, from Rousseau to Dr Gregory, have contributed to render women more artificial, weak characters, than they would otherwise have been; and consequently, more useless members of society. I might have expressed this conviction in a lower key, but I am afraid it would have been the whine of affectation, and not the faithful expression of my feelings, of the clear result which experience and reflection have led me to draw[...] My objection extends to the whole purport of those books, which tend, in my opinion, to degrade one-half of the human species, and render women pleasing at the expense of every solid virtue.

Though, to reason on Rousseau's ground, if man did attain a degree of perfection of mind when his body arrived at maturity, it might be proper, in order to make a man and his wife one, that she should rely entirely on his understanding; and the graceful ivy, clasping the oak that supported it, would form a whole in which strength and beauty would be equally conspicuous. But, alas! husbands, as well as their helpmates, are often only overgrown children, – nay, thanks to early debauchery, scarcely men in their outward form, – and if the blind lead the blind, one need not come from heaven to tell us the consequence.

Many are the causes that, in the present corrupt state of society, contribute to enslave women by cramping their understandings and sharpening their senses. One, perhaps, that silently does more mischief than all the rest, is their disregard of order.

To do everything in an orderly manner is a most important precept, which women, who, generally speaking, receive only a disorderly kind of education, seldom attend to with that degree of exactness that men, who from their infancy are broken into method, observe. This negligent kind of guesswork – for what other epithet can be used to point out the random exertions of a sort of instinctive common sense never brought to the test of reason? – prevents their generalizing matters of fact; so they do today what they did yesterday, merely because they did it yesterday.

This contempt of the understanding in early life has more baneful consequences than is commonly supposed; for the little knowledge which women of strong minds attain is, from various circumstances, of a more desultory kind than the knowledge of men, and it is acquired more by sheer observations on real life than from comparing what has been individually observed with the results of experience generalized by speculation. Led by their dependent situation and domestic employments more into society, what they learn is rather by snatches; and as learning is with them in general only a secondary thing, they do not pursue any one branch with that persevering ardour necessary to give vigour to the faculties and dearness to the judgement. In the present state of society a little learning is required to support the character of a gentleman, and boys are obliged to submit to a few years of discipline. But in the education of women, the cultivation of the understanding is always subordinate to the acquirement of some corporeal accomplishment. Even when enervated by confinement and false notions of modesty, the body is prevented from attaining that grace and beauty which relaxed half – formed limbs never exhibit. Besides, in youth, their faculties are not brought forward by emulation; and having no serious scientific study, if they have natural sagacity, it is turned too soon on life and manners. They dwell on effects and modifications, without tracing them back to causes; and complicated rules to adjust behaviour are a weak substitute for simple principles.

As a proof that education gives this appearance of weakness to females, we may instance the example of military men, who are, like them, sent into the world before their minds have been stored with knowledge, or fortified by principles. The consequences are similar; soldiers acquire a little superficial knowledge, snatched from the muddy current of conversation, and from continually mixing with society, they gain what is termed a knowledge of the world; and this acquaintance with manners and customs has frequently been confounded with a knowledge of the human heart. But can the crude fruit of casual observation, never brought to the test of judgement, formed by comparing speculation and experience, deserve such a distinction? Soldiers, as well as women, practise the minor virtues with punctilious politeness. Where is then the sexual difference, when the education has been the same? All the difference that I can discern arises from the superior advantage of liberty which enables the former to see more of life.

It is wandering from my present subject, perhaps, to make a political remark; but as it was produced naturally by the train of my reflections, I shall not pass it silently over.

Standing armies can never consist of resolute robust men; they may be well-disciplined machines, but they will seldom contain men under the influence of strong passions, or with very vigorous faculties; and as for any depth of understanding, I will venture to affirm that it is as rarely to be found in the army as amongst women. And the cause, I maintain, is the same. It may be further observed that officers are also particularly attentive to their persons, fond of dancing, crowded rooms, adventures, and ridicule. Like the fair sex, the business of their lives is gallantry; they were taught to please, and they only live to please. Yet they do not lose their rank in the distinction of sexes, for they are still reckoned superior to women, though in what their superiority consists, beyond what I have just mentioned, it is difficult to discover.

The great misfortune is this, that they both acquire manners before morals, and a knowledge of life before they have from reflection any acquaintance with the grand ideal outline of human nature. The consequence is natural. Satisfied with common nature, they become a prey to prejudices, and taking all their opinions on credit, they blindly submit to authority. So that if they have any sense, it is a kind of instinctive glance that catches proportions, and decides with respect to manners, but fails when arguments are to be pursued below the surface, or opinions analysed.

May not the same remark be applied to women? Nay, the argument may be carried still further, for they are both thrown out of a useful station by the unnatural distinctions established in civilized life. Riches and hereditary honours have made cyphers of women to give consequence to the numerical figure; and idleness has produced a mixture of gallantry and despotism into society, which leads the very men who are the slaves of their mistresses to tyrannize over their sisters, wives, and daughters. This is only keeping them in rank and file, it is true. Strengthen the female mind by enlarging it, and there will be an end to blind obedience; but as blind obedience is ever sought for by power, tyrants and sensualists are in the right when they endeavour to keep woman in the dark, because the former only want slaves, and the latter a plaything. The sensualist, indeed, has been the most dangerous of tyrants, and women have been duped by their lovers, as princes by their ministers, whilst dreaming that they reigned over them.

I now principally allude to Rousseau, for his character of Sophia is undoubtedly a captivating one, though it appears to me grossly unnatural. However, it is not the superstructure, but the foundation of her character, the principles on which her education was built, that I mean to attack; nay, warmly as I admire the genius of that able writer, whose opinions I shall often have occasion to cite, indignation always takes place of admiration, and the rigid frown of insulted virtue effaces the smile of complacency which his eloquent periods are wont to raise when I read his voluptuous reveries. Is this the man who, in his ardour for virtue, would banish all the soft arts of peace, and almost carry us back to Spartan discipline? Is this the man who delights to paint the useful struggles of passion, the triumphs of good dispositions, and the heroic flights which carry the glowing soul out of itself? How are these mighty sentiments lowered when he describes the pretty foot and enticing airs of his little favourite! But for the present I waive the subject, and instead of severely reprehending the transient effusions of overweening sensibility, I shall only observe that whoever has cast a benevolent eye on society must often have been gratified by the sight of humble mutual love not dignified by sentiment, or strengthened by a union in intellectual pursuits. The domestic trifles of the day have afforded matters for cheerful converse, and innocent caresses have softened toils which did not require great exercise of mind or stretch of thought; yet has not the sight of this moderate felicity excited more tenderness than respect? – an emotion similar to what we feel when children are playing or animals sporting; whilst the contemplation of the noble struggles of suffering merit has raised admiration, and carried our thoughts to that world where sensation will give place to reason.

Women are therefore to be considered either as moral beings, or so weak that they must be entirely subjected to the superior faculties of men.

Let us examine this question. Rousseau declares that a woman should never for a moment feel herself independent, that she should be governed by fear to exercise her natural cunning, and made a coquettish slave in order to render her a more alluring object of desire, a sweeter companion to man, whenever he chose to relax himself. He carries the arguments, which he pretends to draw from the indications of nature, still further, and insinuates that truth and fortitude, the corner-stones of all human virtue, should be cultivated with certain restrictions, because, with respect to the female character, obedience is the grand lesson which ought to be impressed with unrelenting rigour.

What nonsense! When will a great man arise with sufficient strength of mind to puff away the fumes which pride and sensuality have thus spread over the subject? If women are by nature inferior to men, their virtues must be the same in quality, if not in degree, or virtue is a relative idea; consequently their conduct should be founded on the same principles, and have the same aim.

Connected with man as daughters, wives, and mothers, their moral character may be estimated by their manner of fulfilling those simple duties; but the end, the grand end, of their exertions should be to unfold their own faculties, and acquire the dignity of conscious virtue. They may try to render their road pleasant; but ought never to forget, in common with man, that life yields not the felicity which can satisfy an immortal soul. I do not mean to insinuate that either sex should be so lost in abstract reflections or distant views as to forget the affections and duties that lie before them, and are, in truth, the means appointed to produce the fruit of life; on the contrary, I would warmly recommend them, even while I assert that they afford most satisfaction when they are considered in their true sober light.

Probably the prevailing opinion that woman was created for man, may have taken its rise from Moses'poetical story; yet as very few, it is presumed, who have bestowed any serious thought on the subject ever supposed that Eve was, literally speaking, one of Adam's ribs, the deduction must be allowed to fall to the ground, or only be so far admitted as it proves that man, from the remotest antiquity, found it convenient to exert his strength to subjugate his companion, and his invention to show that she ought to have her neck bent under the yoke, because the whole creation was only created for his convenience or pleasure.

Let it not be concluded that I wish to invert the order of things. I have already granted that, from the constitution of their bodies, men seemed to be designed by Providence to attain a greater degree of virtue. I speak collectively of the whole sex; but I see not the shadow of a reason to conclude that their virtues should differ in respect to their nature. In fact, how can they, if virtue has only one eternal standard? I must therefore, if I reason consequentially, as strenuously maintain that they have the same simple direction as that there is a God.

It follows then that cunning should not be opposed to wisdom, little cares to great exertions, or insipid softness, varnished over with the name of gentleness, to that fortitude which grand views alone can inspire.

I shall be told that woman would then lose many of her peculiar graces, and the opinion of a well-known poet might be quoted to refute my unqualified assertion. For Pope has said, in the name of the whole male sex:

Yet ne'er so sure our passion to create,

As when she touch'd the brink of all we hate.

In what light this sally places men and women I shall leave to the judicious to determine. Meanwhile, I shall content myself with observing, that I cannot discover why, unless they are mortal, females should always be degraded by being made subservient to love or lust.

To speak disrespectfully of love is, I know, high treason against sentiment and fine feelings; but I wish to speak the simple language of truth, and rather to address the head than the heart. To endeavour to reason love out of the world would be to out-Quixote Cervantes, and equally offend against common sense; but an endeav our to restrain this tumultuous passion, and to prove that it should not be allowed to dethrone superior powers, or to usurp the sceptre which the understanding should ever coolly wield, appears less wild.

Youth is the season for love in both sexes; but in those days of thoughtless enjoyment provision should be made for the more important years of life, when reflection takes place of sensation. But Rousseau, and most of the male writers who have followed his steps, have warmly indicated that the whole tendency of female education ought to be directed to one point – to render them pleasing.

Let me reason with the supporters of this opinion who have any knowledge of human nature. Do they imagine that marriage can eradicate the habitude of life? The woman who has only been taught to please will soon find that her charms are oblique sunbeams, and that they cannot have much effect on her husband's heart when they are seen every day, when the summer is passed and gone. Will she then have sufficient native energy to look into herself for comfort, and cultivate her dormant faculties? or is it not more rational to expect that she will try to please other men, and, in the emotions raised by the experience of new conquests, endeavour to forget the mortification her love or pride has received? When the husband ceases to be a lover, and the time will inevitably come, her desire of pleasing will then grow languid, or become a spring of bitterness; and love, perhaps, the most evanescent of all passions, gives place to jealousy or vanity.

I now speak of women who are restrained by principle or prejudice. Such women, though they would shrink from an intrigue with real abhorrence, yet, nevertheless, wish to be convinced by the homage of gallantry that they are cruelly neglected by their husbands; or, days and weeks are spent in dreaming of the happiness enjoyed by congenial souls, till their health is undermined and their spirits broken by discontent. How then can the great art of pleasing be such a necessary study? it is only useful to a mistress. The chaste wife and serious mother should only consider her power to please as the polish of her virtues, and the affection of her husband as one of the comforts that render her task less difficult, and her life happier. But, whether she be loved or neglected, her first wish should be to make herself respectable, and not to rely for all her happiness on a being subject to like infirmities with herself.

The worthy Dr Gregory fell into a similar error. I respect his heart, but entirely disapprove of his celebrated Legacy to his Daughters.

He advises them to cultivate a fondness for dress, because a fondness for dress, he asserts, is natural to them. I am unable to comprehend what either he or Rousseau mean when they frequently use this indefinite term. If they told us that in a pre-existent state the soul was fond of dress, and brought this inclination with it into a new body, I should listen to them with a half- smile, as I often do when I hear a rant about innate elegance. But if he only meant to say that the exercise of the faculties will produce this fondness, I deny it. It is not natural; but arises, like false ambition in men, from a love of power.

Dr Gregory goes much further; he actually recommends dissimulation, and advises an innocent girl to give the lie to her feelings, and not dance with spirit, when gaiety of heart would make her feet eloquent without making her gestures immodest. In the name of truth and common sense, why should not one woman acknowledge that she can take more exercise than another? or, in other words, that she has a sound constitution; and why, to damp innocent vivacity, is she darkly to be told that men will draw conclusions which she little thinks of? Let the libertine draw what inference he pleases; but, I hope, that no sensible mother will restrain the natural frankness of youth by instilling such indecent cautions. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh; and a wiser than Solomon hath said that the heart should be made clean, and not trivial ceremonies observed, which it is not very difficult to fulfil with scrupulous exactness when vice reigns in the heart.

Women ought to endeavour to purify their hearts; but can they do so when their uncultivated understandings make them entirely dependent on their senses for employment and amusement, when no noble pursuits set them above the little vanities of the day, or enable them to curb the wild emotions that agitate a reed, over which every passing breeze has power? To gain the affections of a virtuous man, is affectation necessary? Nature has given woman a weaker frame than man; but, to ensure her husband's affections, must a wife, who, by the exercise of her mind and body whilst she was discharging the duties of a daughter, wife, and mother, has allowed her constitution to retain its natural strength, and her nerves a healthy tone, – is she, I say, to condescend to use art, and feign a sickly delicacy, in order to secure her husband's affection? Weakness may excite tenderness, and gratify the arrogant pride of man, but the lordly caresses of a protector will not gratify a noble mind that pants for and deserves to be respected. Fondness is a poor substitute for friendship!

In a seraglio, I grant, that all these arts are necessary; the epicure must have his palate tickled, or he will sink into apathy; but have women so little ambition as to be satisfied with such a condition? Can they supinely dream life away in the lap of pleasure, or the languor of weariness, rather than assert their claim to pursue reasonable pleasures, and render themselves conspicuous by practising the virtues which dignify mankind? Surely she has not an immortal soul who can loiter life away merely employed to adorn her person, that she may amuse the languid hours, and soften the cares of a fellow-creature who is willing to be enlivened by her smiles and tricks, when the serious business of life is over.

Besides, the woman who strengthens her body and exercises her mind will, by managing her family and practising various virtues, become the friend, and not the humble dependent of her husband; and if she, by possessing such substantial qualities, merit his regard, she will not find it necessary to conceal her affection, nor to pretend to an unnatural coldness of constitution to excite her husband's passions. In fact, if we revert to history, we shall find that the women who have distinguished themselves have neither been the most beautiful nor the most gentle of their sex.

Nature, or, to speak with strict propriety, God, has made all things right; but man has sought him out many inventions to mar the work. I now allude to that part of Dr Gregory's treatise, where he advises a wife never to let her husband know the extent of her sensibility or affection. Voluptuous precaution, and as ineffectual as absurd. Love, from its very nature, must be transitory. To seek for a secret that would render it constant, would be as wild a search as for the philosopher's stone, or the grand panacea; and the discovery would be equally useless, or rather pernicious, to mankind. The most holy band of society is friendship. It has been well said, by a shrewd satirist,‘that rare as true love is, true friendship is still rarer'.

This is an obvious truth, and, the cause not lying deep, will not elude a slight glance of inquiry.

Love, the common passion, in which chance and sensation take place of choice and reason, is, in some degree, felt by the mass of mankind; for it is not necessary to speak, at present, of the emotions that rise above or sink below love. This passion, naturally increased by suspense and difficulties, draws the mind out of its accustomed state, and exalts the affections; but the security of marriage allowing the fever of love to subside, a healthy temperature is thought insipid only by those who have not sufficient intellect to substitute the calm tenderness of friendship, the confidence of respect, instead of blind admiration, and the sensual emotions of fondness.

This is, must be, the course of nature. Friendship or indifference inevitably succeeds love. And this constitution seems perfectly to harmonize with the system of government which prevails in the moral world. Passions are spurs to action, and open the mind; but they sink into mere appetites, become a personal and momentary gratification when the object is gained, and the satisfied mind rests in enjoyment. The man who had some virtue whilst he was struggling for a crown often becomes a voluptuous tyrant when it graces his brow; and, when the lover is not lost in the husband, the dotard, a prey to childish caprices and fond jealousies, neglects the serious duties of life, and the caresses which should excite confidence in his children are lavished on the overgrown child, his wife.

In order to fulfil the duties of life, and to be able to pursue with vigour the various employments which form the moral character, a master and mistress of a family ought not to continue to love each other with passion. I mean to say that they ought not to indulge those emotions which disturb the order of society, and engross the thoughts that should be otherwise employed. The mind that has never been engrossed by one object wants vigour, – if it can long be so, it is weak.

A mistaken education, a narrow uncultivated mind, and many sexual prejudices, tend to make women more constant than men; but, for the present, I shall not touch on this branch of the subject. I will go still further, and advance, without dreaming of a paradox, that an unhappy marriage is often very advantageous to a family, and that the neglected wife is, in general, the best mother. And this would almost always be the consequence if the female mind were more enlarged; for, it seems to be the common dispensation of Providence, that what we gain in present enjoyment should be deducted from the treasure of life, experience; and that when we are gathering the flowers of the day, and revelling in pleasure, the solid fruit of toil and wisdom should not be caught at the same time. The way lies before us, we must turn to the right or left; and he who will pass life away in bounding from one pleasure to another, must not complain if he acquire neither wisdom nor respectability of character.

Supposing, for a moment, that the soul is not immortal, and that man was only created for the present scene, – I think we should have reason to complain that love, infantine fondness, ever grew insipid and palled upon the sense. Let us eat, drink, and love, for tomorrow we die, would be, in fact, the language of reason, the morality of life; and who but a fool would part with a reality for a fleeting shadow? But, if awed by observing the improbable powers of the mind, we disdain to confine our wishes or thoughts to such a comparatively mean field of action, that only appears grand and important, as it is connected with a bound-less prospect and sublime hopes, what necessity is there for falsehood in conduct, and why must the sacred majesty of truth be violated to detain a deceitful good that saps the very foundation of virtue? Why must the female mind be tainted by coquettish arts to gratify the sensualist, and prevent love from subsiding into friendship, or compassionate tenderness, when these are not qualities on which friendship can be built? Let the honest heart show itself, and reason teach passion to submit to necessity; or, let the dignified pursuit of virtue and knowledge raise the mind above those emotions which rather embitter than sweeten the cup of life, when they are not restrained within due bounds.

I do not mean to allude to the romantic passion, which is the concomitant of genius. Who can clip its wing? But that grand passion not proportioned to the puny enjoyments of life, is only true to the sentiment, and feeds on itself. The passions which have been celebrated for their durability have always been unfortunate. They have acquired strength by absence and constitutional melancholy. The fancy has hovered round a form of beauty dimly seen; but familiarity might have turned admiration into disgust, or, at least, into indifference, and allowed the imagination leisure to start fresh game. With perfect propriety, according to this view of things, does Rousseau make the mistress of his soul, Eloisa, love St Preux, when life was fading before her; but this is no proof of the immortality of the passion.

Of the same complexion is Dr Gregory's advice respecting delicacy of sentiment, which he advises a woman not to acquire, if she have determined to marry. This determination, however, perfectly consistent with his former advice, he calls indelicate, and earnestly persuades his daughters to conceal it, though it may govern their conduct, as if it were indelicate to have the common appetites of human nature.

Noble morality! and consistent with the cautious prudence of a little soul that cannot extend its views beyond the present minute division of existence. If all the faculties of woman's mind are only to be cultivated as they respect her dependence on man; if, when a husband be obtained, she have arrived at her goal, and meanly proud, rests satisfied with such a paltry crown, let her grovel contentedly, scarcely raised by her employments above the animal kingdom; but, if struggling for the prize of her high calling, she look beyond the present scene, let her cultivate her understanding without stopping to consider what character the husband may have whom she is destined to marry. Let her only determine, without being too anxious about present happiness, to acquire the qualities that ennoble a rational being, and a rough inelegant husband may shock her taste without destroying her peace of mind. She will not model her soul to suit the frailties of her companion, but to bear with them; his character may be a trial, but not an impediment to virtue.

If Dr Gregory confined his remark to romantic expectations of constant love and congenial feelings, he should have recollected that experience will banish what advice can never make us cease to wish for, when the imagination is kept alive at the expense of reason.

I own it frequently happens, that women who have fostered a romantic unnatural delicacy of feeling, waste their lives in imagining how happy they should have been with a husband who could love them with a fervid increasing affection every day, and all day. But they might as well pine married as single, and would not be a jot more unhappy with a bad husband than longing for a good one. That a proper education, or, to speak with more precision, a well-stored mind, would enable a woman to support a single life with dignity, I grant; but that she should avoid cultivating her taste, lest her husband should occasionally shock it, is quitting a substance for a shadow. To say the truth, I do not know of what use is an improved taste, if the individual be not rendered more independent of the casualties of life; if new sources of enjoyment, only dependent on the solitary operations of the mind, are not opened. People of taste, married or single, without distinction, will ever be disgusted by various things that touch not less observing minds. On this conclusion the argument must not be allowed to hinge; but in the whole sum of enjoyment is taste to be denominated a blessing?

The question is, whether it procures most pain or pleasure? The answer will decide the propriety of Dr Gregory's advice, and show how absurd and tyrannic it is thus to lay down a system of slavery, or to attempt to educate moral beings by any other rules than those deduced from pure reason, which apply to the whole species.

Gentleness of manners, forbearance and long suffering, are such amiable Godlike qualities, that in sublime poetic strains the Deity has been invested with them; and, perhaps, no representation of His goodness so strongly fastens on the human affections as those that represent Him abundant in mercy and willing to pardon. Gentleness, considered in this point of view, bears on its front all the characteristics of grandeur, combined with the winning graces of condescension; but what a different aspect it assumes when it is the submissive demeanour of dependence, the support of weakness that loves, because it wants protection; and is forbearing, because it must silently endure injuries; smiling under the lash at which it dare not snarl. Abject as this picture appears, it is the portrait of an accomplished woman, according to the received opinion of female excellence, separated by specious reasoners from human excellence. Or, they kindly restore the rib, and make one moral being of a man and woman; not forgetting to give her all the‘submissive charms' .

How women are to exist in that state where there is neither to be marrying nor giving in marriage, we are not told. For though moralists have agreed that the tenor of life seems to prove that man is prepared by various circumstances for a future state, they constantly concur in advising woman only to provide for the present. Gentleness, docility, and a spaniellike affection are, on this ground, consistently recommended as the cardinal virtues of the sex; and, disregarding the arbitrary economy of nature, one writer has declared that it is masculine for a woman to be melancholy. She was created to be the toy of man, his rattle, and it must jingle in his ears whenever, dismissing reason, he chooses to be amused.

To recommend gentleness, indeed, on a broad basis is strictly philosophical. A frail being should labour to be gentle. But when forbearance confounds right and wrong, it ceases to be a virtue; and, however convenient it may be found in a companion – that companion will ever be considered as an inferior, and only inspire a vapid tenderness, which easily degenerates into contempt. Still, if advice could really make a being gentle, whose natural disposition admitted not of such a fine polish, something towards the advancement of order would be attained; but if as might quickly be demonstrated, only affection be produced by this indiscriminate counsel, which throws a stumblingblock in the way of gradual improvement, and true melioration of temper, the sex is not much benefited by sacrificing solid virtues to the attainment of superficial graces, though for a few years they may procure the individuals regal sway.

As a philosopher, I read with indignation the plausible epithets which men use to soften their insults; and, as a moralist, I ask what is meant by such heterogeneous associations, as fair defects, amiable weaknesses, etc.? If there be but one criterion of morals, but one architype for man, women appear to be suspended by destiny, according to the vulgar tale of Mahomet's coffin; they have neither the unerring instinct of brutes, nor are allowed to fix the eye of reason on a perfect model. They were made to be loved, and must not aim at respect, lest they should be hunted out of society as masculine.

But to view the subject in another point of view. Do passive indolent women make the best wives? Confining our discussion to the present moment of existence, let us see how such weak creatures perform their part. Do the women who, by the attainment of a few superficial accomplishments, have strengthened the prevailing prejudice, merely contribute to the happiness of their husbands? Do they display their charms merely to amuse them? And have women who have early imbibed notions of passive obedience, sufficient character to manage a family or educate children? So far from it, that, after surveying the history of woman, I cannot help agreeing with the severest satirist, considering the sex as the weakest as well as the most oppressed half of the species. What does history disclose but marks of inferiority, and how few women have emancipated themselves from the galling yoke of sovereign man? So few that the exceptions remind me of an ingenious conjecture respecting Newton – that he was probably a being of superior order accidentally caged in a human body. Following the same train of thinking, I have been led to imagine that the few extraordinary women who have rushed in eccentrical directions out of the orbit prescribed to their sex, were male spirits, confined by mistake in female frames. But if it be not philosophical to think of sex when the soul is mentioned, the inferiority must depend on the organs; or the heavenly fire, which is to ferment the clay, is not given in equal portions.

But avoiding, as I have hitherto done, any direct comparison of the two sexes collectively, or frankly acknowledging the inferiority of woman, according to the present appearance of things, I shall only insist that men have increased that inferiority till women are almost sunk below the standard of rational creatures. Let their faculties have room to unfold, and their virtues to gain strength, and then determine where the whole sex must stand in the intellectual scale. Yet let it be remembered that for a small number of distinguished women I do not ask a place.

It is difficult for us purblind mortals to say to what height human discoveries and improvements may arrive, when the gloom of despotism subsides, which makes us stumble at every step; but, when morality shall be settled on a more solid basis, then, without being gifted with a prophetic spirit, I will venture to predict that woman will be either the friend or slave of man. We shall not, as at present, doubt whether she is a moral agent, or the link which unites man with brutes. But should it then appear that like the brutes they were principally created for the use of man, he will let them patiently bite the bridle, and not mock them with empty praise; or, should their rationality be proved, he will not impede their improvement merely to gratify his sensual appetites. He will not, with all the graces of rhetoric, advise them to submit implicitly their understanding to the guidance of man. He will not, when he treats of the education of women, assert that they ought never to have the free use of reason, nor would he recommend cunning and dissimulation to beings who are acquiring, in like manner as himself, the virtues of humanity.

Surely there can be but one rule of right, if morality has an eternal foundation, and whoever sacrifices virtue, strictly so called, to present convenience, or whose duty it is to act in such a manner, lives only for the passing day, and cannot be an accountable creature.

The poet then should have dropped his sneer when he says:

If weak women go astray,

The stars are more in fault than they.

For that they are bound by the adamantine chain of destiny is most certain, if it be proved that they are never to exercise their own reason, never to be independent, never to rise above opinion, or to feel the dignity of a rational will that only bows to God, and often forgets that the universe contains any being but itself and the model of perfection to which its ardent gaze is turned, to adore attributes that, softened into virtues, may be imitated in kind, though the degree overwhelms the enraptured mind.

If, I say, for I would not impress by declamation when Reason offers her sober light, if they be really capable of acting like rational creatures, let them not be treated like slaves; or, like the brutes who are dependent on the reason of man, when they associate with him; but cultivate their minds, give them the salutary sublime curb of principle, and let them attain conscious dignity by feeling themselves only dependent on God. Teach them, in common with man, to submit to necessity, instead of giving, to render them more pleasing, a sex to morals.

Further, should experience prove that they cannot attain the same degree of strength of mind, perseverance, and fortitude, let their virtues be the same in kind, though they may vainly struggle for the same degree; and the superiority of man will be equally clear, if not clearer; and truth, as it is a simple principle, which admits of no modification, would be common to both. Nay the order of society, as it is at present regulated, would not be inverted, for woman would then only have the rank that reason assigned her, and arts could not be practised to bring the balance even, much less to turn it.

These may be termed Utopian dreams. Thanks to that Being who impressed them on my soul, and gave me sufficient strength of mind to dare to exert my own reason, till, becoming dependent only on Him for the support of my virtue, I view, with indignation, the mistaken notions that enslave my sex.

I love man as my fellow; but his sceptre, real or usurped, extends not to me, unless the reason of an individual demands my homage; and even then the submission is to reason, and not to man. In fact, the conduct of an account able being must be regulated by the operations of its own reason; or on what foundation rests the throne of God?

It appears to me necessary to dwell on these obvious truths, because females have been insulated, as it were; and while they have been stripped of the virtues that should clothe humanity, they have been decked with artificial graces that enable them to exercise a shortlived tyranny. Love, in their bosoms, taking place of every nobler passion, their sole ambition is to be fair, to raise emotion instead of inspiring respect; and this ignoble desire, like the servility in absolute monarchies, destroys all strength of character. Liberty is the mother of virtue, and if women be, by their very constitution, slaves, and not allowed to breathe the sharp invigorating air of freedom, they must ever languish like exotics, and be reckoned beautiful flaws in nature. Let it also be remembered, that they are the only flaw.

As to the argument respecting the subjection in which the sex has ever been held, it retorts on man. The many have always been enthralled by the few; and monsters, who scarcely have shown any discernment of human excellence, have tyrannized over thousands of their fellow-creatures. Why have men of superior endowments submitted to such degradation? For, is it not universally acknowledged that kings, viewed collectively, have ever been inferior, in abilities and virtue, to the same number of men taken from the common mass of mankind – yet have they not, and are they not still treated with a degree of reverence that is an insult to reason? China is not the only country where a living man has been made a God. Men have submitted to superior strength to enjoy with impunity the pleasure of the moment; women have only done the same, and therefore till it is proved that the courtier, who servilely resigns the birthright of a man, is not a moral agent, it cannot be demonstrated that woman is essentially inferior to man because she has always been subjugated.

Brutal force has hitherto governed the world, and that the science of politics is in its infancy, is evident from philosophers scrupling to give the knowledge most useful to man that determinate distinction.

I shall not pursue this argument any further than to establish an obvious inference, that as sound politics diffuse liberty, mankind, including woman, will become more wise and virtuous.

The Same Subject Continued

Bodily strength from being the distinction of heroes is now sunk into such unmerited contempt that men, as well as women, seem to think it unnecessary; the latter, as it takes from their feminine graces, and from that lovely weakness, the source of their undue power; and the former, because it appears inimical to the character of a gentleman.

That they have both, by departing from one extreme run into another, may easily be proved; but first it may be proper to observe that a vulgar error has obtained a degree of credit, which has given force to a false conclusion, in which an effect has been mistaken for a cause.

People of genius have very frequently impaired their constitutions by study or careless inattention to their health, and the violence of their passions bearing a pro portion to the vigour of their intellects, the sword's destroying the scabbard has become almost proverbial, and superficial observers have inferred from thence that men of genius have commonly weak, or, to use a more fashionable phrase, delicate constitutions. Yet the contrary, I believe, will appear to be the fact; for, on diligent inquiry, I find that strength of mind has in most cases been accompanied by superior strength of body, – natural soundness of constitution, – not that robust tone of nerves and vigour of muscles, which arise from bodily labour, when the mind is quiescent, or only directs the hands.

Dr Priestley has remarked, in the preface to his biographical chart, that the majority of great men have lived beyond forty-five. And considering the thoughtless manner in which they have lavished their strength when investigating a favourite science, they have wasted the lamp of life, forgetful of the midnight hour; or, when lost in poetic dreams, fancy has peopled the scene, and the soul has been disturbed, till it shook the constitution by the passions that meditation has raised, – whose objects, the baseless fabric of a vision, faded before the exhausted eye, – they must have had iron frames. Shakespeare never grasped the airy dagger with a nerveless hand, nor did Milton tremble when he led Satan far from the confines of his dreary prison. These were not the ravings of imbecility, the sickly effusions of distempered brains, but the exuberance of fancy, that ‘in a fine frenzy' wandering, was not continually reminded of its material shackles.

I am aware that this argument would carry me further than it may be supposed I wish to go; but I follow truth, and still adhering to my first position, I will allow that bodily strength seems to give man a natural superiority over woman; and this is the only solid basis on which the superiority of the sex can be built. But I still insist that not only the virtue but the knowledge of the two sexes should be the same in nature, if not in degree, and that women, considered not only as moral but rational creatures, ought to endeavour to acquire human virtues （or perfections) by the same means as men, instead of being educated like a fanciful kind of half being – one of Rousseau's wild chimeras.

But if strength of body be with some show of reason the boast of men, why are women so infatuated as to be proud of a defect? Rousseau has furnished them with a plausible excuse, which could only have occurred to a man whose imagination had been allowed to run wild, and refine on the impressions made by exquisite senses; that they might for-sooth have a pretext for yielding to a natural appetite without violating a romantic species of modesty, which gratifies the pride and libertinism of man.

Women, deluded by these sentiments, sometimes boast of their weakness, cunningly obtaining power by playing on the weakness of men; and they may well glory in their illicit sway, for, like Turkish bashaws, they have more real power than their masters; but virtue is sacrificed to temporary gratifications, and the respectability of life to the triumph of an hour.

Women, as well as despots, have now perhaps more power than they would have if the world, divided and subdivided into kingdoms and families, were governed by laws deduced from the exercise of reason; but in obtaining it, to carry on the comparison, their character is degraded, and licentiousness spread through the whole aggregate of society. The many become pedestal to the few. I, therefore, will venture to assert that till women are more rationally educated, the progress of human virtue and improvement in knowledge must receive continual checks. And if it be granted that woman was not created merely to gratify the appetite of man, or to be the upper servant, who provides his meals and takes care of his line, it must follow that the first care of those mothers or fathers who really attend to the education of females should be, if not to strengthen the body, at least not to destroy the constitution by mistaken notions of beauty and female excellence; nor should girls ever be allowed to imbibe the pernicious notion that a defect can, by any chemical process of reasoning, become an excellence.

[...]

But should it be proved that woman is naturally weaker than man, whence does it follow that it is natural for her to labour to become still weaker than nature intended her to be? Arguments of this cast are an insult to common sense, and savour of passion. The divine right of husbands, like the divine right of kings, may, it is to be hoped, in this enlightened age, be contested without danger; and though conviction may not silence many boisterous disputants, yet, when any prevailing prejudice is attacked, the wise will consider, and leave the narrow-minded to rail with thoughtless vehemence at innovation.

The mother who wishes to give true dignity of character to her daughter must, regardless of the sneers of ignorance, proceed on a plan diametrically opposite to that which Rousseau has recommended with all the deluding charms of eloquence and philosophic sophistry, for his eloquence renders absurdities plausible, and his dogmatic conclusions puzzle, without convincing, those who have not ability to refute them.

Throughout the whole animal kingdom every young creature requires almost continual exercise, and the infancy of children, conformable to this intimation, should be passed in harmless gambols that exercise the feet and hands, without requiring very minute direction from the head, or the constant attention of a nurse. In fact, the care necessary for self-preservation is the first natural exercise of the understanding as little inventions to amuse the present moment unfold the imagination. But these wise designs of nature are counteracted by mistaken fondness or blind zeal. The child is not left a moment to its own direction – particularly a girl – and thus rendered dependent. Dependence is called natural.

To preserve personal beauty – woman's glory – the limbs and faculties are cramped with worse than Chinese bands, and the sedentary life which they are condemned to live, whilst boys frolic in the open air, weakens the muscles and relaxes the nerves. As for Rousseau's remarks, which have since been echoed by several writers, that they have naturally, that is, from their birth, independent of education, a fondness for dolls, dressing, and talking, they are so puerile as not to merit a serious refutation. That a gift, condemned to sit for hours together listening to the idle chat of weak nurses, or to attend at her mother's toilet, will endeavour to join the conversation, is, indeed, very natural; and that she will imitate her mother or aunts, and amuse herself by adorning her lifeless doll, as they do in dressing her, poor innocent babe! is undoubtedly a most natural consequence. For men of the greatest abilities have seldom had sufficient strength to rise above the surrounding atmosphere; and if the pages of genius have always been blurred by the prejudices of the age, some allowance should be made for a sex, who, like kings, always see things through a false medium.

In this manner, may the fondness for dress, conspicuous in woman, be easily accounted for, without supposing it the result of a desire to please the sex on which they are dependent. The absurdity, in short, of supposing that a girl is naturally a coquette, and that a desire connected with the impulse of nature to propagate the species, should appear even before an improper education has, by heating the imagination, called it forth prematurely, is so unphilosophical, that such a sagacious observer as Rousseau would not have adopted it, if he had not been accustomed to make reason give way to his desire of singularity, and truth to a favourite paradox.

Yet thus to give a sex to mind was not very consistent with the principles of a man who argued so warmly, and so well, for the immortality of the soul. But what a weak barrier is truth when it stands in the way of an hypothesis! Rousseau respected – almost adored virtue – and yet he allowed himself to love with sensual fondness. His imagination constantly prepared inflammable fuel for his inflammable senses; but, in order to reconcile his respect for self-denial, fortitude, and those heroic virtues, which a mind like his could not coolly admire, he labours to invert a law of nature, and broaches a doctrine pregnant with mischief, and derogatory to the character of supreme wisdom.

His ridiculous stories, which tend to prove that girls are naturally attentive to their persons, without laying any stress on daily example, are below contempt.

[...]

I have, probably, had an opportunity of observing more girls in their infancy than J. J. Rousseau. I can recollect my own feelings, and I have looked steadily around me; yet, so far from coinciding with him in opinion respecting the first dawn of the female character, I will venture to affirm, that a girl, whose spirits have not been damped by inactivity, or innocence tainted by false shame, will always be a romp, and the doll will never excite attention unless confinement allows her no alternative. Girls and boys, in short, would play harmlessly together, if the distinction of sex was not inculcated long before nature makes any difference. I will go further, and affirm, as an indisputable fact, that most of the women, in the circle of my observation, who have acted like rational creatures, or shown any vigour of intellect, have accidentally been allowed to run wild, as some of the elegant formers of the fair sex would insinuate.

The baneful consequences which flow from inattention to health during infancy and youth, extend further than is supposed – dependence of body naturally produces dependence of mind; and how can she be a good wife or mother, the greater part of whose time is employed to guard against or endure sickness? Nor can it be expected that a woman will resolutely endeavour to strengthen her constitution and abstain from enervating indulgences, if artificial notions of beauty, and false descriptions of sensibility, have been early entangled with her motives of action. Most men are sometimes obliged to bear with bodily inconveniences, and to endure, occasionally, the inclemency of the elements; but genteel women are, literally speaking, slaves to their bodies, and glory in their subjection.

I once knew a weak woman of fashion, who was more than commonly proud of her delicacy and sensibility. She thought a distinguishing taste and puny appetite the height of all human perfection, and acted accordingly. I have seen this weak sophisticated being neglect all the duties of life, yet recline with self-complacency on a sofa, and boast of her want of appetite as a proof of delicacy that extended to, or, perhaps, arose from, her exquisite sensibility; for it is difficult to render intelligible such ridiculous jargon. Yet, at the moment, I have seen her insult a worthy old gentlewoman, whom unexpected misfortunes had made dependent on her ostentatious bounty, and who, in better days, had claims on her gratitude. Is it possible that a human creature could have become such a weak and depraved being, if, like the Sybarites, dissolved in luxury, everything like virtue had not been worn away, or never impressed by precept, a poor substitute, it is true, for cultivation of mind, though it serves as a fence against vice?

[...]

Women are everywhere in this deplorable state; for, in order to preserve their innocence, as ignorance is courteously termed, truth is hidden from them, and they are made to assume an artificial character before their faculties have acquired any strength. Taught from their infancy that beauty is woman's sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, and roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adore its prison. Men have various employments and pursuits which engage their attention, and give a character to the opening mind; but women, confined to one, and having their thoughts constantly directed to the most insignificant part of themselves, seldom extend their views beyond the triumph of the hour. But were their understanding once emancipated from the slavery to which the pride and sensuality of man and their short-sighted desire, like that of dominion in tyrants, of present sway, has subjected them, we should probably read of their weaknesses with surprise. I must be allowed to pursue the argument a little further.

Perhaps, if the existence of an evil being were allowed, who, in the allegorical language of Scripture, went about seeking whom he should devour, he could not more effectually degrade the human character, than by giving a man absolute power.

This argument branches into various ramifications. Birth, riches, and every extrinsic advantage that exalt a man above his fellows, without any mental exertion, sink him in reality below them. In proportion to this weakness, he is played upon by designing men, till the bloated monster has lost all traces of humanity. And that tribes of men, like flocks of sheep, should quietly follow such a leader, is a solecism that only a desire of present enjoyment and narrowness of understanding can solve. Educated in slavish dependence, and enervated by luxury and sloth, where shall we find men who will stand forth to assert the rights of man, or claim the privilege of moral beings, who should have but one road to excellence? Slavery to monarchs and ministers, which the world will be long in freeing itself from, and whose deadly grasp stops the progress of the human mind, is not yet abolished.

Let not men then in the pride of power, use the same arguments that tyrannic kings and venal ministers have used, and fallaciously assert that woman ought to be subjected because she has always been so. But, when man, governed by reasonable laws, enjoys his natural freedom, let him despise woman, if she do not share it with him; and, till that glorious period arrives, in des canting on the folly of the sex, let him not overlook his own.

Women, it is true, obtaining power by unjust means, by practising or fostering vice, evidently lose the rank which reason would assign them, and they become either abject slaves or capricious tyrants. They lose all simplicity, all dignity of mind, in acquiring power, and act as men are observed to act when they have been exalted by the same means.

It is time to effect a revolution in female manners –time to restore to them their lost dignity – and make them, as a part of the human species, labour by reforming themselves to reform the world. It is time to separate unchangeable morals from local manners. If men be demi-gods, why let us serve them! And if the dignity of the female soul be as disputable as that of animals – if their reason does not afford sufficient light to direct their conduct whilst unerring instinct is denied – they are surely of all creatures the most miserable! and, bent beneath the iron hand of destiny, must submit to be a fair defect in creation. But to justify the ways of Providence respecting them, by pointing out some irrefragable reason for thus making such a large portion of mankind accountable and not accountable, would puzzle the subtilest casuist.

[...]

It were to be wished that women would cherish an affection for their husbands, founded on the same principle that devotion ought to rest upon. No other firm base is there under heaven – for let them beware of the fallacious light of sentiment; too often used as a softer phrase for sensuality. It follows then, I think, that from their infancy women should either be shut up like Eastern princes, or educated in such a manner as to be able to think and act for themselves.

Why do men halt between two opinions, and expect impossibilities? Why do they expect virtue from a slave, from a being whom the constitution of civil society has rendered weak, if not vicious?

Still I know that it will require a considerable length of time to eradicate the firmly rooted prejudices which sensualists have planted; it will also require some time to convince women that they act contrary to their real interest on an enlarged scale, when they cherish or affect weakness under the name of delicacy, and to convince the world that the poisoned source of female vices and follies, if it be necessary, in compliance with custom, to use synonymous terms in a lax sense, has been the sensual homage paid to beauty: – to beauty of features; for it has been shrewdly observed by a German writer, that a pretty woman, as an object of desire, is generally allowed to be so by men of all descriptions; whilst a fine woman, who inspires more sublime emotions by displaying intellectual beauty, may be overlooked or observed with indifference, by those men who find their happiness in the gratification of their appetites. I foresee an obvious retort – whilst man remains such an imperfect being as he appears hitherto to have been, he will, more or less, be the slave of his appetites; and those women obtaining most power who gratify a predominant one, the sex is degraded by a physical, if not by a moral necessity.

This objection has, I grant, some force; but while such a sublime precept exists, as, ‘Be pure as your heavenly Father is pure'; it would seem that the virtues of man are not limited by the Being who alone could limit them; and that he may press forward without considering whether he steps out of his sphere by indulging such a noble ambition. To the wild billows it has been said, ‘Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther; and here shall thy proud waves be stayed. ' Vainly then do they beat and foam, restrained by the power that confines the struggling planets in their orbits, matter yields to the great governing Spirit. But an immortal soul, not restrained by mechanical laws and struggling to free itself from the shackles of matter, contributes to, instead of disturbing, the order of creation, when, co-operating with the Father of spirits, it tries to govern itself by the invariable rule that, in a degree, before which our imagination faints, the universe is regulated.

Besides, if woman be educated for dependence, that is, to act according to the will of another fallible being, and submit, right or wrong, to power, where are we to stop? Are they to be considered as viceregents allowed to reign over a small domain, and answerable for their conduct to a higher tribunal, liable to error?

It will not be difficult to prove that such delegates will act like men subjected by fear, and make their children and servants endure their tyrannical oppression. As they submit without reason, they will, having no fixed rules to square their conduct by, be kind, or cruel, just as the whim of the moment directs; and we ought not to wonder if sometimes, galled by their heavy yoke, they take a malignant pleasure in resting it on weaker shoulders.

But, supposing a woman, trained up to obedience, be married to a sensible man, who directs her judgement without making her feel the servility of her subjection, to act with as much propriety by this reflected light as can be expected when reason is taken at secondhand, yet she cannot ensure the life of her protector; he may die and leave her with a large family.

A double duty devolves on her; to educate them in the character of both father and mother; to form their principles and secure their property. But, alas! she has never thought, much less acted for herself. She has only learned to please men, to depend gracefully on them; yet, encumbered with children, how is she to obtain another protector – a husband to supply the place of reason? A rational man, for we are not treading on romantic ground, though he may think her a pleasing docile creature, will not choose to marry a family for love, when the world contains many more pretty creatures. What is then to become of her? She either falls an easy prey to some mean fortune-hunter, who defrauds her children of their paternal inheritance, and renders her miserable; or becomes the victim of discontent and blind indulgence. Unable to educate her sons, or impress them with respect, – for it is not a play on words to assert, that people are never respected, though filling an important station, who are not respectable, – she pines under the anguish of unavailing impotent regret. The serpent's tooth enters into her very soul, and the vices of licentious youth bring her with sorrow, if not with poverty also, to the grave.

This is not an overcharged picture; on the contrary, it is a very possible case, and something similar must have fallen under every attentive eye.

I have, however, taken it for granted, that she was well disposed, though experience shows, that the blind may as easily be led into a ditch as along the beaten road. But supposing, no very improbable conjecture, that a being only taught to please must still find her happiness in pleasing; what an example of folly, not to say vice, will she be to her innocent daughters! The mother will be lost in the coquette, and, instead of making friends of her daughters, view them with eyes askance, for they are rivals – rivals more cruel than any other, because they invite a comparison, and drive her from the throne of beauty, who has never thought of a seat on the bench of reason.

It does not require a lively pencil, or the discriminating outline of a caricature, to sketch the domestic miseries and petty vices which such a mistress of a family diffuses. Still she only acts as a woman ought to act, brought up according to Rousseau's system. She can never be reproached for being masculine, or turning out of her sphere; nay, she may observe another of his grand rules, and, cautiously preserving her reputation free from spot, be reckoned a good kind of woman. Yet in what respect can she be termed good? She abstains, it is true, without any great struggle, from committing gross crimes; but how does she fulfil her duties? Duties! in truth she has enough to think of to adorn her body and nurse a weak constitution.

With respect to religion, she never presumed to judge for herself; but conformed, as a dependent creature should, to the ceremonies of the Church which she was brought up in, piously believing that wiser heads than her own have settled that business; and not to doubt is her point of perfection. She therefore pays her tithe of mint and cumin – and thanks her God that she is not as other women are. These are the blessed effects of a good education! These are the virtues of man's helpmate!

I must relieve myself by drawing a different picture.

Let fancy now present a woman with a tolerable understanding, for I do not wish to leave the line of mediocrity, whose constitution, strengthened by exercise, has allowed her body to acquire its full vigour; her mind, at the same time, gradually expanding itself to comprehend the moral duties of life, and in what human virtue and dignity consist.

Formed thus by the discharge of the relative duties of her station, she marries from affection, without losing sight of prudence, and looking beyond matrimonial felicity, she secures her husband's respect before it is necessary to exert mean arts to please him and feed a dying flame, which nature doomed to expire when the object became familiar, when friendship and forbearance take place of a more ardent affection. This is the natural death of love, and domestic peace is not destroyed by struggles to prevent its extinction. I also suppose the husband to be virtuous; or she is still more in want of independent principles.

Fate, however, breaks this tie. She is left a widow, perhaps, without a sufficient provision; but she is not desolate! The pang of nature is felt; but after time has softened sorrow into melancholy resignation, her heart turns to her children with redoubled fondness, and anxious to provide for them, affection gives a sacred heroic cast to her maternal duties. She thinks that not only the eye sees her virtuous efforts from whom all her comfort now must flow, and whose approbation is life; but her imagination, a little abstracted and exalted by grief, dwells on the fond hope that the eyes which her trembling hand closed, may still see how she subdues every wayward passion to fulfil the double duty of being the father as well as the mother of her children. Raised to heroism by misfortunes, she represses the first faint dawning of a natural inclination, before it ripens into love, and in the bloom of life forgets her sex – forgets the pleasure of an awakening passion, which might again have been inspired and returned. She no longer thinks of pleasing, and conscious dignity prevents her from priding herself on account of the praise which her conduct demands. Her children have her love, and her brightest hopes are beyond the grave, where her imagination often strays.

I think I see her surrounded by her children, reaping the reward of her care. The intelligent eye meets hers, whilst health and innocence smile on their chubby cheeks, and as they grow up the cares of life are lessened by their grateful attention. She lives to see the virtues which she endeavoured to plant on principles, fixed into habits, to see her children attain a strength of character sufficient to enable them to endure adversity without forgetting their mother's example.

The task of life thus fulfilled, she calmly waits for the sleep of death, and rising from the grave, may say – ‘Behold, Thou gavest me a talent, and here are five talents.'

I wish to sum up what I have said in a few words, for I here throw down my gauntlet, and deny the existence of sexual virtues, not excepting modesty. For man and woman, truth, if I understand the meaning of the word, must be the same; yet the fanciful female character, so prettily drawn by poets and novelists, demanding the sacrifice of truth and sincerity, virtue becomes a relative idea, having no other foundation than utility, and of that utility men pretend arbitrarily to judge, shaping it to their own convenience.

Women, I allow, may have different duties to fulfil; but they are human duties, and the principles that should regulate the discharge of them, I sturdily maintain, must be the same.

To become respectable, the exercise of their under standing is necessary, there is no other foundation for independence of character; I mean explicitly to say that they must only bow to the authority of reason, instead of being the modest slaves of opinion.

In the superior ranks of life how seldom do we meet with a man of superior abilities, or even common acquirements? The reason appears to me clear, the state they are born in was an unnatural one. The human character has ever been formed by the employments the individual, or class, pursues; and if the faculties are not sharpened by necessity, they must remain obtuse. The argument may fairly be extended to women; for, seldom occupied by serious business, the pursuit of pleasure gives that insignificancy to their character which renders the society of the great so insipid. The same want of firmness, produced by a similar cause, forces them both to fly from themselves to noisy pleasures, and artificial passions, till vanity takes place of every social affection, and the characteristics of humanity can scarcely be discerned. Such are the blessings of civil governments, as they are at present organized, that wealth and female softness equally tend to debase mankind, and are produced by the same cause; but allowing women to be rational creatures, they should be incited to acquire virtues which they may call their own, for how can a rational being be ennobled by anything that is not obtained by its own exertions?

Observations on the State of Degradation to which Woman is Reduced by Various Causes

That woman is naturally weak, or degraded by a concurrence of circumstances, is, I think, clear. But this position I shall simply contrast with a conclusion, which I have frequently heard fall from sensible men in favour of an aristocracy: that the mass of mankind cannot be anything, or the obsequious slaves, who patiently allow themselves to be driven forward, would feel their own consequence, and spurn their chains. Men, they further observe, submit everywhere to oppression, when they have only to lift up their heads to throw off the yoke; yet, instead of asserting their birthright, they quietly lick the dust, and say, ‘Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.' Women, I argue from analogy, are degraded by the same propensity to enjoy the present moment, and at last despise the freedom which they have not sufficient virtue to struggle to attain. But I must be more explicit.

With respect to the culture of the heart, it is unanimously allowed that sex is out of the question; but the line of subordination in the mental powers is never to be passed over. Only ‘absolute in loveliness', the portion of rationality granted to woman is, indeed, very scanty; for denying her genius and judgement, it is scarcely possible to divine what remains to characterize intellect.

The stamen of immortality, if I may be allowed the phrase, is the perfectibility of human reason; for, were man created perfect, or did a flood of knowledge break in upon him, when he arrived at maturity, that precluded error, I should doubt whether his existence would be continued after the dissolution of the body. But, in the present state of things, every difficulty in morals that escapes from human discussion, and equally baffles the investigation of profound thinking, and the lightning glance of genius, is an argument on which I build my belief of the immortality of the soul. Reason is, consequentially, the simple power of improvement; or, more properly speaking, of discerning truth. Every individual is in this respect a world in itself. More or less may be conspicuous in one being than another; but the nature of reason must be the same in all, if it be an emanation of divinity, the tie that connects the creature with the Creator; for, can that soul be stamped with the heavenly image, that is not perfected by the exercise of its own reason? Yet outwardly ornamented with elaborate care, and so adorned to delight man, ‘that with honour he may love' , the soul of woman is not allowed to have this distinction, and man, ever placed between her and reason, she is always represented as only created to see through a gross medium, and to take things on trust. But dismissing these fanciful theories, and considering woman as a whole, let it be what it will, instead of a part of man, the inquiry is whether she have reason or not. If she have, which, for a moment, I will take for granted, she was not created merely to be the solace of man, and the sexual should not destroy the human character.

Into this error men have, probably, been led by viewing education in a false light; not considering it as the first step to form a being advancing gradually towards perfection; but only as a preparation for life. On this sensual error, for I must call it so, has the false system of female manners been reared, which robs the whole sex of its dignity, and classes the brown and fair with the smiling flowers that only adorn the land. This has ever been the language of men, and the fear of departing from a supposed sexual character, has made even women of superior sense adopt the same sentiments. Thus understanding, strictly speaking, has been denied to woman; and instinct, sublimated into wit and cunning, for the purposes of life, has been substituted in its stead.

The power of generalizing ideas, of drawing comprehensive conclusions from individual observations, is the only acquirement, for an immortal being, that really deserves the name of knowledge. Merely to observe, without endeavouring to account for anything, may(in a very incomplete manner) serve as the common sense of life; but where is the store laid up that is to clothe the soul when it leaves the body?

This power has not only been denied to women; but writers have insisted that it is inconsistent, with a few exceptions, with their sexual character. Let men prove this, and I shall grant that woman only exists for man. I must, however, previously remark, that the power of generalizing ideas, to any great extent, is not very common amongst men or women. But this exercise is the true cultivation of the understanding; and everything conspires to render the cultivation of the understanding more difficult in the female than the male world.

I am naturally led by this assertion to the main subject of the present chapter, and shall now attempt to point out some of the causes that degrade the sex, and prevent women from generalizing their observations.

I shall not go back to the remote annals of antiquity to trace the history of woman; it is sufficient to allow that she has always been either a slave or a despot, and to remark that each of these situations equally retards the progress of reason. The grand source of female folly and vice has ever appeared to me to arise from narrowness of mind; and the very constitution of civil governments has put almost insuperable obstacles in the way to prevent the cultivation of the female understanding; yet virtue can be built on no other foundation. The same obstacles are thrown in the way of the rich, and the same consequences ensue.

Necessity has been proverbially termed the mother of invention; the aphorism may be extended to virtue. It is an acquirement, and an acquirement to which pleasure must be sacrificed; and who sacrifices pleasure when it is within the grasp, whose mind has not been opened and strengthened by adversity, or the pursuit of knowledge goaded on by necessity? Happy is it when people have the cares of life to struggle with, for these struggles prevent their becoming a prey to enervating vices, merely from idleness. But if from their birth men and women be placed in a torrid zone, with the meridian sun of pleasure slanting directly upon them, how can they sufficiently brace their minds to discharge the duties of life, or even to relish the affections that carry them out of themselves?

Pleasure is the business of woman's life, according to the present modification of society; and while it continues to be so, little can be expected from such weak beings. Inheriting in a lineal descent from the first fair defect in nature – the sovereignty of beauty – they have, to maintain their power, resigned the natural rights which the exercise of reason might have procured them, and chosen rather to be short-lived queens than labour to obtain the sober pleasures that arise from equality. Exalted by their inferiority (this sounds like a contradiction), they constantly demand homage as women, though experience should teach them that the men who pride themselves upon paying this arbitrary insolent respect to the sex, with the most scrupulous exactness, are most inclined to tyrannize over, and despise the very weakness they cherish.

[...]

Ah! why do women – I write with affectionate solicitude – condescend to receive a degree of attention and respect from strangers different from that reciprocation of civility which the dictates of humanity and the politeness of civilization authorize between man and man? And why do they not discover, when ‘in the noon of beauty's power', that they are treated like queens only to be deluded by hollow respect, till they are led to resign, or not assume, their natural prerogatives? Confined, then, in cages like the feathered race, they have nothing to do but to plume themselves, and stalk with mock majesty from perch to perch. It is true they are provided with food and raiment, for which they neither toil nor spin; but health, liberty, and virtue are given in exchange. But where, amongst mankind, has been found sufficient strength of mind to enable a being to resign these adventitious prerogatives – one who, rising with the calm dignity of reason above opinion, dared to be proud of the privileges inherent in man? And it is vain to expect it whilst hereditary power chokes the affections, and nips reason in the bud.

The passions of men have thus placed women on thrones, and till mankind become more reasonable, it is to be feared that women will avail themselves of the power which they attain with the least exertion, and which is the most indisputable. They will smile – yes, they will smile, though told that:

In beauty's empire is no mean,

And woman, either slave or queen,

Is quickly scorned when not adored.

But the adoration comes first, and the scorn is not anticipated.

Louis XIV, in particular, spread factitious manners, and caught, in a specious way, the whole nation in his toils; for, establishing an artful chain of despotism, he made it the interest of the people at large individually to respect his station, and support his power. And women, whom he flattered by a puerile attention to the whole sex, obtained in his reign that prince-like distinction so fatal to reason and virtue.

A king is always a king, and a woman always a woman. His authority and her sex ever stand between them and rational converse. With a lover, I grant, she should be so, and her sensibility will naturally lead her to endeavour to excite emotion, not to gratify her vanity, but her heart. This I do not allow to be coquetry; it is the artless impulse of nature. I only exclaim against the sexual desire of conquest when the heart is out of the question.

[...]

I lament that women are systematically degraded by receiving the trivial attentions which men think it manly to pay to the sex, when in fact, they are insultingly supporting their own superiority. It is not condescension to bow to an inferior. So ludicrous, in fact, do these ceremonies appear to me that I scarcely am able to govern my muscles when I see a man start with eager and serious solicitude to lift a handkerchief or shut a door, when the lady could have done it herself, had she only moved a pace or two.

A wild wish has just flown from my heart to my head, and I will not stifle it, though it may excite a horselaugh. I do earnestly wish to see the distinction of sex confounded in society, unless where love animates the behaviour. For this distinction is, I am firmly persuaded, the foundation of the weakness of character ascribed to woman; is the cause why the understanding is neglected, whilst accomplishments are acquired with sedulous care; and the same cause accounts for their preferring the graceful before the heroic virtues.

Mankind, including every description, wish to be loved and respected by something, and the common herd will always take the nearest road to the completion of their wishes. The respect paid to wealth and beauty is the most certain and unequivocal, and, of course, will always attract the vulgar eye of common minds. Abilities and virtues are absolutely necessary to raise men from the middle rank of life into notice, and the natural consequence is notorious – the middle rank contains most virtue and abilities. Men have thus, in one station at least, an opportunity of exerting themselves with dignity, and of rising by the exertions which really improve a rational creature; but the whole female sex are, till their character is formed, in the same condition as the rich, for they are born – I now speak of a state of civilization – with certain sexual privileges; and whilst they are gratuitously granted them, few will ever think of works of supererogation to obtain the esteem of a small number of superior people.

When do we hear of women who, starting out of obscurity, boldly claim respect on account of their great abilities or daring virtues? Where are they to be found? ... Women, commonly called ladies, are not to be contradicted, in company, are not allowed to exert any manual strength; and from them the negative virtues only are expected, when any virtues are expected – patience, docility, good humour, and flexibility – virtues incompatible with any vigorous exertion of intellect. Besides, by living more with each other, and being seldom absolutely alone, they are more under the influence of sentiments than passions. Solitude and reflection are necessary to give to wishes the force of passions, and to enable the imagination to enlarge the object, and make it the most desirable. The same may be said of the rich; they do not sufficiently deal in general ideas, collected by impassioned thinking or calm investigation, to acquire that strength of character on which great resolves are built.

[...]

In the middle rank of life, men, in their youth, are prepared for professions, and marriage is not considered as the grand feature in their lives; whilst women, on the contrary, have no other scheme to sharpen their faculties. It is not business, extensive plans, or any of the excursive flights of ambition, that engross their attention; no, their thoughts are not employed in rearing such noble structures. To rise in the world, and have the liberty of running from pleasure to pleasure, they must marry advantageously, and to this object their time is sacrificed, and their persons often legally prostituted. A man when he enters any profession has his eye steadily fixed on some future advantage (and the mind gains great strength by having all its efforts directed to one point), and, full of his business, pleasure is considered as mere relaxation; whilst women seek for pleasure as the main purpose of existence. In fact, from the education, which they receive from society, the love of pleasure may be said to govern them all; but does this prove that there is a sex in souls? It would be just as rational to declare that the courtiers in France, when a destructive system of despotism had formed their character, were not men, because liberty, virtue, and humanity, were sacrificed to pleasure and vanity. Fatal passions, which have ever domineered over the whole race!

The same love of pleasure, fostered by the whole tendency of their education, gives a trifling turn to the conduct of women in most circumstances; for instance, they are ever anxious about secondary things; and on the watch for adventures instead of being occupied by duties.

A man, when he undertakes a journey, has, in general, the end in view; a woman thinks more of the incidental occurrences, the strange things that may possibly occur on the road; the impression that she may make on her fellow-travellers; and, above all, she is anxiously intent on the care of the finery that she carries with her, which is more than ever a part of herself, when going to figure on a new scene; when, to use an apt French turn of expression, she is going to produce a sensation. Can dignity of mind exist with such trivial cares?

In short, women, in general, as well as the rich of both sexes, have acquired all the follies and vices of civilization, and missed the useful fruit. It is not necessary for me always to premise, that I speak of the condition of the whole sex, leaving exceptions out of the question. Their senses are inflamed, and their understandings neglected, consequently they become the prey of their senses, delicately termed sensibility, and are blown about by every momentary gust of feeling. ‘Civilized' women are, therefore, so weakened by false refinement, that, respecting morals, their condition is much below what it would be were they left in a state nearer to nature. Ever restless and anxious, their over-exercised sensibility not only renders them uncomfortable themselves, but troublesome, to use a soft phrase, to others. All their thoughts turn on things calculated to excite emotion and feeling, when they should reason, their conduct is unstable, and their opinions are wavering – not the wavering produced by deliberation or progressive views, but by contradictory emotions. By fits and starts, they are warm in many pursuits; yet this warmth, never concentrated into perseverance, soon exhausts itself; exhaled by its own heat, or meeting with some other fleeting passion, to which reason has never given any specific gravity, neutrality ensues. Miserable, indeed, must be that being whose cultivation of mind has only tended to inflame its passions! A distinction should be made between inflaming and strengthening them. The passions thus pampered, whilst the judgement is left unformed, what can be expected to ensue? Undoubtedly, a mixture of madness and folly!

This observation should not be confined to the fair sex; however, at present, I only mean to apply it to them.

Novels, music, poetry, and gallantry, all tend to make women the creatures of sensation, and their character is thus formed in the mould of folly during the time they are acquiring accomplishments, the only improvement they are excited, by their station in society, to acquire. This overstretched sensibility naturally relaxes the other powers of the mind, and prevents intellect from attaining that sovereignty which it ought to attain to render a rational creature useful to others, and content with its own station; for the exercise of the understanding, as life advances, is the only method pointed out by nature to calm the passions.

Satiety has a very different effect, and I have often been forcibly struck by an emphatical description of damnation; when the spirit is represented as continually hovering with abortive eagerness round the defiled body, unable to enjoy anything without the organs of sense. Yet, to their senses, are women made slaves, because it is by their sensibility that they obtain present power.

And will moralists pretend to assert that this is the condition in which one-half of the human race should be encouraged to remain with listless inactivity and stupid acquiescence? Kind instructors! what were we created for? To remain, it may be said, innocent; they mean in a state of childhood. We might as well never have been born, unless it were necessary that we should be created to enable man to acquire the noble privilege of reason, the power of discerning good from evil, whilst we lie down in the dust from whence we were taken, never to rise again.

It would be an endless task to trace the variety of meannesses, cares, and sorrows, into which women are plunged by the prevailing opinion, that they were created rather to feel than reason, and that all the power they obtain must be obtained by their charms and weakness:

Fine by defect, and amiably weak!

And, made by this amiable weakness entirely dependent, excepting what they gain by illicit sway, on man, not only for protection, but advice, is it surprising that, neglecting the duties that reason alone points out, and shrinking from trials calculated to strengthen their minds, they only exert themselves to give their defects a graceful covering, which may serve to heighten their charms in the eye of the voluptuary, though it sink them below the scale of moral excellence.

Fragile in every sense of the word, they are obliged to look up to man for every comfort. In the most trifling danger they cling to their support, with parasitical tenacity, piteously demanding succour; and their natural protector extends his arm, or lifts up his voice, to guard the lovely trembler – from what? Perhaps the frown of an old cow, or the jump of a mouse; a rat would be a serious danger. In the name of reason, and even common sense, what can save such beings from contempt; even though they be soft and fair.

These fears, when not affected, may produce some pretty attitudes; but they show a degree of imbecility which degrades a rational creature in a way women are not aware of – for love and esteem are very distinct things.

I am fully persuaded that we should hear of none of these infantine airs, if girls were allowed to take sufficient exercise, and not confined in dose rooms till their muscles are relaxed, and their powers of digestion destroyed. To carry the remark still further, if fear in girls, instead of being cherished, perhaps, created, were treated in the same manner as cowardice in boys, we should quickly see women with more dignified aspects. It is true, they could not then with equal propriety be termed the sweet flowers that smile in the walk of man; but they would be more respectable members of society, and discharge the important duties of life by the light of their own reason. ‘Educate women like men,'says Rousseau, ‘and the more they resemble our sex the less power they will have over us.' This is the very point I aim at. I do not wish them to have power over men; but over themselves.

[...]

Ignorance is a frail base for virtue! Yet, that it is the condition for which woman was organized, has been insisted upon by the writers who have most vehemently argued in favour of the superiority of man; a superiority not in degree, but offence; though, to soften the argument, they have laboured to prove, with chivalrous generosity, that the sexes ought not to be compared; man was made to reason, woman to feel: and that together, flesh and spirit, they make the most perfect whole, by blending happily reason and sensibility into one character.

And what is sensibility? ‘Quickness of sensation, quickness of perception, delicacy.' Thus is it defined by Dr Johnson; and the definition gives me no other idea than of the most exquisitely polished instinct. I discern not a trace of the image of God in either sensation or matter. Refined seventy times seven they are still material; intellect dwells not there; nor will fire ever make lead gold!

I come round to my old argument: if woman be allowed to have an immortal soul, she must have, as the employment of life, an understanding to improve. And when, to render the present state more complete, though everything proves it to be but a fraction of a mighty sum, she is incited by present gratification to forget her grand destination, nature is counteracted, or she was born only to procreate and rot. Or, granting brutes of every description a soul, though not a reasonable one, the exercise of instinct and sensibility may be the step which they are to take, in this life, towards the attainment of reason in the next; so that through all eternity they will lag behind man, who, why we cannot tell, had the power given him of attaining reason in his first mode of existence.

When I treat of the peculiar duties of women, as I should treat of the peculiar duties of a citizen or father, it will be found that I do not mean to insinuate that they should be taken out of their families, speaking of the majority [...] But the welfare of society is not built on extraordinary exertions; and were it more reasonably organized, there would be still less need of great abilities, or heroic virtues.

In the regulation of a family, in the education of children, understanding, in an unsophisticated sense, is particularly required – strength both of body and mind; yet the men who, by their writings, have most earnestly laboured to domesticate women, have endeavoured, by arguments dictated by a gross appetite, which satiety had rendered fastidious, to weaken their bodies and cramp their minds. But, if even by these sinister methods they really persuaded women, by working on their feelings, to stay at home, and fulfil the duties of a mother and mistress of a family, I should cautiously oppose opinions that led women to right conduct, by prevailing on them to make the discharge of such important duties the main business of life, though reason were insulted. Yet, and I appeal to experience, if by neglecting the understanding they be as much, nay, more detached from these domestic employments, than they could be by the most serious intellectual pursuit, though it may be observed, that the mass of mankind will never vigorously pursue an intellectual object, I may be allowed to infer that reason is absolutely necessary to enable a woman to perform any duty properly, and I must again repeat, that sensibility is not reason.

[...]

Another argument that has had great weight with me must, I think, have some force with every considerate benevolent heart. Girls who have been thus weakly educated are often cruelly left by their parents without any provision, and, of course, are dependent on not only the reason, but the bounty of their brothers. These brothers are, to view the fairest side of the question, good sort of men, and give as a favour what children of the same parents had an equal right to. In this equivocal humiliating situation a docile female may remain some time with a tolerable degree of comfort. But when the brother marries – a probable circumstance – from being considered as the mistress of the family, she is viewed with averted looks as an intruder, an unnecessary burden on the benevolence of the master of the house and his new partner.

Who can recount the misery which many unfortunate beings, whose minds and bodies are equally weak, suffer in such situations – unable to work, and ashamed to beg? The wife, a cold-hearted, narrowminded woman – and this is not an unfair supposition, for the present mode of education does not tend to enlarge the heart any more than the understanding –is jealous of the little kindness which her husband shows to his relations; and her sensibility not rising to humanity, she is displeased at seeing the property of her children lavished on an helpless sister.

These are matters of fact, which have come under my eye again and again. The consequence is obvious; the wife has recourse to cunning to undermine the habitual affection which she is afraid openly to oppose; and neither tears nor caresses are spared till the spy is worked out of her home, and thrown on the world, unprepared for its difficulties; or sent, as a great effort of generosity, or from some regard to propriety, with a small stipend, and an uncultivated mind, into joyless solitude.

These two women may be much upon a par with respect to reason and humanity, and, changing situations, might have acted just the same selfish part; but had they been differently educated, the case would also have been very different. The wife would not have had that sensibility, of which self is the centre, and reason might have taught her not to expect, and not even to be flattered by, the affection of her husband, if it led him to violate prior duties. She would wish not to love him merely because he loved her, but on account of his virtues; and the sister might have been able to struggle for herself instead of eating the bitter bread of dependence.

I am, indeed, persuaded that the heart, as well as the understanding, is opened by cultivation, and by –which may not appear so clear – strengthening the organs. I am not now talking of momentary flashes of sensibility, but of affections. And, perhaps, in the education of both sexes, the most difficult task is so to adjust instruction as not to narrow the understanding, whilst the heart is warmed by the generous juices of spring, just raised by the electric fermentation of the season; nor to dry up the feelings by employing the mind in investigations remote from life.

With respect to women, when they receive a careful education, they are either made fine ladies, brimful of sensibility, and teeming with capricious fancies, or mere notable women. The latter are often friendly, honest creatures, and have a shrewd kind of good sense, joined with worldly prudence, that often render them more useful members of society than the fine sentimental lady, though they possess neither greatness of mind nor taste. The intellectual world is shut against them. Take them out of their family or neighbourhood, and they stand still; the mind finding no employment, for literature affords a fund of amusement which they have never sought to relish, but frequently to despise. The sentiments and taste of more cultivated minds appear ridiculous, even in those whom chance and family connections have led them to love; but in mere acquaintance they think it all affectation.

A man of sense can only love such a woman on account of her sex, and respect her because she is a trusty servant. He lets her, to preserve his own peace, scold the servants, and go to church in clothes made of the very best materials. A man of her own size of understanding would probably not agree so well with her, for he might wish to encroach on her prerogative, and manage some domestic concerns himself; yet women, whose minds are not enlarged by cultivation, or the natural selfishness of sensibility by reflection, are very unfit to manage a family, for, by an undue stretch of power, they are always tyrannizing to support a superiority that only rests on the arbitrary distinction of fortune. The evil is sometimes more serious, and domestics are deprived of innocent indulgences, and made to work beyond their strength, in order to enable the notable woman to keep a better table, and outshine her neighbours in finery and parade. If she attend to her children, it is in general to dress them in a costly manner; and whether this attention arise from vanity or fondness, it is equally pernicious.

Besides, how many women of this description pass their days, or at least their evenings, discontentedly. Their husbands acknowledge that they are good managers and chaste wives, but leave home to seek for more agreeable – may I be allowed to use a significant French word – piquant society; and the patient drudge, who fulfils her task like a blind horse in a mill, is defrauded of her just reward, for the wages due to her are the caresses of her husband; and women who have so few resources in themselves, do not very patiently bear this privation of a natural right.

A fine lady, on the contrary, has been taught to look down with contempt on the vulgar employments of life, though she had only been incited to acquire accomplishments that rise a degree above sense; for even corporeal accomplishments cannot be acquired with any degree of precision unless the understanding has been strengthened by exercise. Without a foundation of principles taste is superficial; grace must arise from something deeper than imitation. The imagination, however, is heated, and the feelings rendered fastidious, if not sophisticated, or a counter poise of judgement is not acquired when the heart still remains artless, though it becomes too tender.

[...]

Yet if love be the supreme good, let woman be only educated to inspire it, and let every charm be polished to intoxicate the senses; but if they be moral beings, let them have a chance to become intelligent; and let love to man be only a part of that glowing flame of universal love, which, after encircling humanity, mounts in grateful incense to God.

To fulfil domestic duties much resolution is necessary, and a serious kind of perseverance that requires a more firm support than emotions, however lively and true to nature. To give an example of order, the soul of virtue, some austerity of behaviour must be adopted, scarcely to be expected from a being who, from its infancy, has been made the weathercock of its own sensations. Whoever rationally means to be useful must have a plan of conduct; and in the discharge of the simplest duty, we are often obliged to act contrary to the present impulse of tenderness or compassion. Severity is frequently the most certain as well as the most sublime proof of affection; and the want of this power over the feelings, and of that lofty, dignified affection which makes a person prefer the future good of the beloved object to a present gratification is the reason why so many fond mothers spoil their children, and has made it questionable whether negligence or indulgence be most hurtful; but I am inclined to think that the latter has done most harm.

Mankind seem to agree that children should be left under the management of women during their child- hood. Now, from all the observation that I have been able to make, women of sensibility are the most unfit for this task, because they will infallibly, carried away by their feelings, spoil a child's temper. The management of the temper, the first, and most important branch of education, requires the sober steady eye of reason; a plan of conduct equally distant from tyranny and indulgence: yet these are the extremes that people of sensibility alternately fall into; always shooting beyond the mark. I have followed this train of reasoning much further, till I have concluded, that a person of genius is the most improper person to be employed in education, public or private. Minds of this rare species see things too much in masses, and seldom, if ever, have a good temper. That habitual cheerfulness, termed good humour, is, perhaps, as seldom united with great mental powers, as with strong feelings. And those people who follow, with interest and admiration, the flights of genius; or, with cooler approbation suck in the instruction which has been elaborately prepared for them by the profound thinker, ought not to be disgusted, if they find the former choleric, and the latter morose; because liveliness of fancy, and a tenacious comprehension of mind, are scarcely compatible with that pliant urbanity which leads a man, at least, to bend to the opinions and prejudices of others, instead of roughly confronting them.

But, treating of education, or manners, minds of a superior class are not to be considered, they may be left to chance; it is the multitude, with moderate abilities, who call for instruction, and catch the colour of the atmosphere they breathe. This respectable concourse, I contend, men and women, should not have their sensations heightened in the hot-bed of luxurious indolence, at the expense of their understanding; for, unless there be a ballast of understanding, they will never become either virtuous or free: an aristocracy, founded on property or sterling talents, will ever sweep before it the alternately timid and ferocious slaves of feeling.

[...]

Women have seldom sufficient serious employment to silence their feelings; a round of little cares, or vain pursuits frittering away all strength of mind and organs, they become naturally only objects of sense. In short, the whole tenor of female education (the education of society) tends to render the best disposed romantic and inconstant; and the remainder vain and mean. In the present state of society this evil can scarcely be remedied, I am afraid, in the slightest degree; should a more laudable ambition ever gain ground they may be brought nearer to nature and reason, and become more virtuous and useful as they grow more respectable.

But, I will venture to assert that their reason will never acquire sufficient strength to enable it to regulate their conduct, whilst the making an appearance in the world is the first wish of the majority of mankind. To this weak wish the natural affections, and the most useful virtues are sacrificed. Gifts marry merely to better themselves, to borrow a significant vulgar phrase, and have such perfect power over their hearts as not to permit themselves to fall in love till a man with a superior fortune offers. On this subject I mean to enlarge in a future chapter; it is only necessary to drop a hint at present, because women are so often degraded by suffering the selfish prudence of age to chill the ardour of youth.

From the same source flows an opinion that young gifts ought to dedicate great part of their time to needle – work; yet, this employment contracts their faculties more than any other that could have been chosen for them, by confining their thoughts to their persons. Men order their clothes to be made, and have done with the subject; women make their own clothes, necessary or ornamental, and are continually talking about them; and their thoughts follow their hands. It is not indeed the making of necessaries that weakens the mind; but the frippery of dress. For when a woman in the lower rank of life makes her husband's and children's clothes, she does her duty, this is her part of the family business; but when women work only to dress better than they could otherwise afford, it is worse than sheer loss of time. To render the poor virtuous they must be employed, and women in the middle rank of life, did they not ape the fashions of the nobility, without catching their ease, might employ them, whilst they themselves managed their families, instructed their children, and exercised their own minds. Gardening, experimental philosophy, and literature, would afford them subject to think of and matter for conversation, that in some degree would exercise their understandings. The conversation of Frenchwomen, who are not so rigidly nailed to their chairs to twist lappets, and knot ribands, is frequently superficial; but, I contend, that it is not half so insipid as that of those Englishwomen whose time is spent in making caps, bonnets, and the whole mischief of trimmings, not to mention shopping, bargain-hunting, etc.; and it is the decent, prudent women, who are most degraded by these practices; for their motive is simply vanity. The wanton who exercises her taste to render her passion alluring, has something more in view.

These observations all branch out of a general one, which I have before made, and which cannot be too often insisted upon, for, speaking of men, women, or professions, it will be found that the employment of the thoughts shapes the character both generally and individually. The thoughts of women ever hover round their persons, and is it surprising that their persons are reckoned most valuable? Yet some degree of liberty of mind is necessary even to form the person; and this may be one reason why some gentle wives have so few attractions beside that of sex. Add to this, sedentary employments render the majority of women sickly – and false notions of female excellence make them proud of this delicacy, though it be another fetter, that by calling the attention continually to the body, cramps the activity of the mind.

Women of quality seldom do any of the manual part of their dress, consequently only their taste is exercised, and they acquire, by thinking less of the finery, when the business of their toilet is over, that ease, which seldom appears in the deportment of women, who dress merely for the sake of dressing. In fact, the observation with respect to the middle rank, the one in which talents thrive best, extends not to women; for those of the superior class, by catching, at least, a smattering of literature, and conversing more with men, on general topics, acquire more knowledge than the women who ape their fashions and faults without sharing their advantages. With respect to virtue, to use the word in a comprehensive sense, I have seen most in low life. Many poor women maintain their children by the sweat of their brow, and keep together families that the vices of the fathers would have scattered abroad; but gentlewomen are too indolent to be actively virtuous, and are softened rather than refined by civilization. Indeed, the good sense which I have met with, among the poor women who have had few advantages of education, and yet have acted heroically, strongly confirmed me in the opinion that trifling employments have rendered woman a trifler. Man, taking her body, the mind is left to rust; so that while physical love enervates man, as being his favourite recreation, he will endeavour to enslave woman: – and, who can tell, how many generations may be necessary to give vigour to the virtue and talents of the freed posterity of abject slaves?

In tracing the causes that, in my opinion, have degraded woman, I have confined my observations to such as universally act upon the morals and manners of the whole sex, and to me it appears clear that they all spring from want of understanding. Whether this arise from a physical or accidental weakness of faculties, time alone can determine; for I shall not lay any great stress on the example of a few women who, from having received a masculine education, have acquired courage and resolution; I only contend that the men who have been placed in similar situations, have acquired a similar character – I speak of bodies of men, and that men of genius and talents have started out of a class, in which women have never yet been placed.

Morality Undermined by Sexual Notions of the Importance of a Good Reputation

It has long since occurred to me that advice respecting behaviour, and all the various modes of preserving a good reputation, which have been so strenuously inculcated on the female world, were specious poisons, that encrusting morality eat away the substance. And, that this measuring of shadows produced a false calculation, because their length depends so much on the height of the sun, and other adventitious circumstances.

[...]

The leading principles which run through all my disquisitions, would render it unnecessary to enlarge on this subject, if a constant attention to keep the varnish of the character fresh, and in good condition, were not often inculcated as the sum total of female duty; if rules to regulate the behaviour, and to preserve the reputation, did not too frequently supersede moral obligations. But, with respect to reputation, the attention is confined to a single virtue – chastity. If the honour of a woman, as it is absurdly called, be safe, she may neglect every social duty; nay, ruin her family by gaming and extravagance; yet still present a shameless front – for truly she is an honourable woman!

Mrs Macaulay has just observed, that ‘there is but one fault which a woman of honour may not commit with impunity.' She then justly and humanely adds – ‘This has given rise to the trite and foolish observation, that the first fault against chastity in woman has a radical power to deprave the character. But no such frail beings come out of the hands of Nature. The human mind is built of nobler materials than to be easily corrupted; and with all their disadvantages of situation and education, women seldom become entirely abandoned till they are thrown into a state of desperation, by the venomous rancour of their own sex.'

But, in proportion as this regard for the reputation of chastity is prized by women, it is despised by men: and the two extremes are equally destructive to morality.

Men are certainly more under the influence of their appetites than women; and their appetites are more depraved by unbridled indulgence and the fastidious contrivances of satiety. Luxury has introduced a refinement in eating, that destroys the constitution; and, a degree of gluttony which is so beastly, that a perception of seemliness of behaviour must be worn out before one being could eat immoderately in the presence of another, and afterwards complain of the oppression that his intemperance naturally produced. Some women, particularly French women, have also lost a sense of decency in this respect; for they will talk very calmly of an indigestion. It were to be wished that idleness was not allowed to generate, on the rank soil of wealth, those swarms of summer insects that feed on putrefaction, we should not then be disgusted by the sight of such brutal excesses.

There is one rule relative to behaviour that, I think, ought to regulate every other; and it is simply to cherish such an habitual respect for mankind as may prevent us from disgusting a fellow-creature for the sake of a present indulgence. The shameful indolence of many married women and others a little advanced in life, frequently leads them to sin against delicacy. For, though convinced that the person is the band of union between the sexes, yet, how often do they from sheer indolence, or, to enjoy some trifling indulgence, disgust?

The depravity of the appetite which brings the sexes together, has had a still more fatal effect. Nature must ever be the standard of taste, the gauge of appetite – yet how grossly is nature insulted by the voluptuary. Leaving the refinements of love out of the question; nature, by making the gratification of an appetite, in this respect, as well as every other, a natural and imperious law to preserve the species, exalts the appetite, and mixes a little mind and affection with a sensual gust. The feelings of a parent mingling with an instinct merely animal, give it dignity; and the man and woman often meeting on account of the child, a mutual interest and affection is excited by the exercise of a common sympathy. Women then having some necessary duty to fulfil, more noble than to adorn their persons, would not contentedly be the slaves of casual lust; which is now the situation of a very considerable number who are, literally speaking, standing dishes to which every glutton may have access.

I may be told that great as this enormity is, it only affects a devoted part of the sex – devoted for the salvation of the rest. But, false as every assertion might easily be proved, that recommends the sanctioning a small evil to produce a greater good; the mischief does not stop here, for the moral character, and peace of mind, of the chaster part of the sex, is undermined by the conduct of the very women to whom they allow no refuge from guilt; whom they inexorably consign to the exercise of arts that lure their husbands from them, debauch their sons, and force them, let not modest women start, to assume, in some degree, the same character themselves. For I will venture to assert, that all the causes of female weakness, as well as depravity, which I have already enlarged on, branch out of one grand cause – want of chastity in men.

This intemperance, so prevalent, depraves the appetite to such a degree, that a wanton stimulus is necessary to rouse it; but the parental design of Nature is forgotten, and the mere person, and that for a moment, alone engrosses the thoughts. So voluptuous, indeed, often grows the lustful prowler, that he refines on female soft ness. Something more soft than women is then sought for; till, in Italy and Portugal, men attend the levees of equivocal beings, to sigh for more than female languor.

To satisfy this genus of men, women are made systematically voluptuous, and though they may not carry their libertinism to the same height, yet this heartless intercourse with the sex, which they allow themselves, depraves both sexes, because the taste of men is vitiated; and women, of all classes, naturally square their behavigur to gratify the taste by which they obtain pleasure and power. Women becoming, consequently, weaker, in mind and body, than they ought to be, were one of the grand ends of their being taken into the account, that of bearing and nursing children, have not sufficient strength to discharge the first duty of a mother; and sacrificing to lasciviousness the parental affection, that ennobles instinct, either destroy the embryo in the womb, or cast it off when born. Nature in everything demands respect, and those who violate her laws seldom violate them with impunity. The weak enervated women who particularly catch the attention of libertines, are unfit to be mothers, though they may conceive; so that the rich sensualist, who has rioted among women, spreading depravity and misery, when he wishes to perpetuate his name, receives from his wife only an half-formed being that inherits both its father's and mother's weakness.

Contrasting the humanity of the present age with the barbarism of antiquity, great stress has been laid on the savage custom of exposing the children whom their parents could not maintain; whilst the man of sensibility, who thus, perhaps, complains, by his promiscuous amours produces a most destructive barrenness and contagious flagitiousness of manners. Surely nature never intended that women, by satisfying an appetite, should frustrate the very purpose for which it was implanted?

I have before observed, that men ought to maintain the women whom they have seduced; this would be one means of reforming female manners, and stopping an abuse that has an equally fatal effect on population and morals. Another, no less obvious, would be to turn the attention of woman to the real virtue of chastity; for to little respect has that woman a claim, on the score of modesty, though her reputation may be white as the driven snow, who smiles on the libertine whilst she spurns the victims of his lawless appetites and their own folly.

Besides, she has a taint of the same folly, pure as she esteems herself, when she studiously adorns her person only to be seen by men, to excite respectful sighs, and all the idle homage of what is called innocent gallantry. Did women really respect virtue for its own sake, they would not seek for a compensation in vanity, for the self-denial which they are obliged to practise to preserve their reputation, nor would they associate with men who set reputation at defiance.

The two sexes mutually corrupt and improve each other. This I believe to be an indisputable truth, extending it to every virtue. Chastity, modesty, public spirit, and all the noble train of virtues, on which social virtue and happiness are built, should be understood and cultivated by all mankind, or they will be cultivated to little effect. And, instead of furnishing the vicious or idle with a pretext for violating some sacred duty, by terming it a sexual one, it would be wiser to show that Nature has not made any difference, for that the unchaste man doubly defeats the purpose of Nature, by rendering women barren, and destroying his own constitution, though he avoids the shame that pursues the crime in the other sex. These are the physical consequences, the moral are still more alarming; for virtue is only a nominal distinction when the duties of citizens, husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, and directors of families, become merely the selfish ties of convenience.

Why then do philosophers look for public spirit? Public spirit must be nurtured by private virtue, or it will resemble the factitious sentiment which makes women careful to preserve their reputation, and men their honour. A sentiment that often exists unsupported by virtue, unsupported by that sublime morality which makes the habitual breach of one duty a breach of the whole moral law.

Of the Pernicious Effects which Arise from the Unnatural Distinctions Established in Society

From the respect paid to property flow, as from a poisoned fountain, most of the evils and vices which render this world such a dreary scene to the contemplative mind. For it is in the most polished society that noisome reptiles and venomous serpents lurk under the rank herbage; and there is voluptuousness pampered by the still sultry air, which relaxes every good disposition before it ripens into virtue.

One class presses on another, for all are aiming to procure respect on account of their property; and property once gained will procure the respect due only to talents and virtue. Men neglect the duties incumbent on man, yet are treated like demi-gods. Religion is also separated from morality by a ceremonial veil, yet men wonder that the world is almost, literally speaking, a den of sharpers or oppressors.

There is a homely proverb, which speaks a shrewd truth, that whoever the devil finds idle he will employ. And what but habitual idleness can hereditary wealth and title produce? For man is so constituted that he can only attain a proper use of his faculties by exercising them, and will not exercise them unless necessity of some kind first set the wheels in motion. Virtue likewise can only be acquired by the discharge of relative duties; but the importance of these sacred duties will scarcely be felt by the being who is cajoled out of his humanity by the flattery of sycophants. There must be more equality established in society, or morality will never gain ground, and this virtuous equality will not rest firmly even when founded on a rock, if one-half of mankind be chained to its bottom by fate, for they will be continually undermining it through ignorance or pride.

It is vain to expect virtue from women till they are in some degree independent of men; nay, it is vain to expect that strength of natural affection which would make them good wives and mothers. Whilst they are absolutely dependent on their husbands they will be cunning, mean, and selfish; and the men who can be gratified by the fawning fondness of spaniel-like affection have not much delicacy, for love is not to be bought; in any sense of the words, its silken wings are instantly shrivelled up when anything beside a return in kind is sought. Yet whilst wealth enervates men, and women live, as it were, by their personal charms, how can we expect them to discharge those ennobling duties which equally require exertion and self-denial? Hereditary property sophisticates the mind, and the unfortunate victims to it – if I may so express myself – swathed from their birth, seldom exert the locomotive faculty of body or mind, and thus viewing everything through one medium, and that a false one, they are unable to discern in what true merit and happiness consist. False, indeed, must be the light when the drapery of situation hides the man, and makes him stalk in masquerade, dragging from one scene of dissipation to another the nerveless limbs that hang with stupid listlessness, and rolling round the vacant eye, which plainly tells us that there is no mind at home.

I mean therefore to infer that the society is not properly organized which does not compel men and women to discharge their respective duties by making it the only way to acquire that countenance from their fellow – creatures, which every human being wishes some way to attain. The respect consequently which is paid to wealth and mere personal charms is a true north-east blast that blights the tender blossoms of affection and virtue. Nature has wisely attached affections to duties to sweeten toil, and to give that vigour to the exertions of reason which only the heart can give. But the affection which is put on merely because it is the appropriated insignia of a certain character, when its duties are not fulfilled, is one of the empty compliments which vice and folly are obliged to pay to virtue and the real nature of things.

To illustrate my opinion, I need only observe that when a woman is admired for her beauty, and suffers herself to be so far intoxicated by the admiration she receives as to neglect to discharge the indispensable duty of a mother, she sins against herself by neglecting to cultivate an affection that would equally tend to make her useful and happy. True happiness – I mean all the contentment and virtuous satisfaction that can be snatched in this imperfect state – must arise from well – regulated affections, and an affection includes a duty. Men are not aware of the misery they cause, and the vicious weakness they cherish, by only inciting women to render themselves pleasing; they do not consider that they thus make natural and artificial duties clash by sacrificing the comfort and respectability of a woman's life to voluptuous notions of beauty when in nature they all harmonize.

Cold would be the heart of a husband, were he not rendered unnatural by early debauchery, who did not feel more delight at seeing his child suckled by its mother than the most artful wanton tricks could ever raise, yet this natural way of cementing the matrimonial tie, and twisting esteem with fonder recollections, wealth leads women to spurn. To preserve their beauty, and wear the flowery crown of the day, which gives them a kind of right to reign for a short time over the sex, they neglect to stamp impressions on their husbands' hearts that would be remembered with more tenderness when the snow on the head began to chill the bosom than even their virgin charms. The maternal solicitude of a reasonable affectionate woman is very interesting, and the chastened dignity with which a mother returns the caresses that she and her child receive from a father who has been fulfilling the serious duties of his station is not only a respectable, but a beautiful sight. So singular, indeed, are my feelings – and I have endeavoured not to catch factitious ones – that after having been fatigued with the sight of insipid grandeur and the slavish ceremonies that with cumbrous pomp supplied the place of domestic affections, I have turned to some other scene to relieve my eye by resting it on the refreshing green everywhere scattered by Nature. I have then viewed with pleasure a woman nursing her children, and discharging the duties of her station with perhaps merely a servant-maid to take off her hands the servile part of the household business. I have seen her prepare herself and children, with only the luxury of cleanliness, to receive her husband, who, returning weary home in the evening, found smiling babes and a clean hearth. My heart has loitered in the midst of the group, and has even throbbed with sympathetic emotion when the scraping of the well-known foot has raised a pleasing tumult.

Whilst my benevolence has been gratified by contemplating this artless picture, I have thought that a couple of this description, equally necessary and independent of each other, because each fulfilled the respective duties of their station, possessed all that life could give. Raised sufficiently above abject poverty not to be obliged to weigh the consequence of every farthing they spend, and having sufficient to prevent their attending to a frigid system of economy which narrows both heart and mind, I declare, so vulgar are my conceptions, that I know not what is wanted to render this the happiest as well as the most respectable situation in the world, but a taste for literature, to throw a little variety and interest into social converse, and some superfluous money to give to the needy and to buy books. For it is not pleasant when the heart is opened by compassion, and the head active in arranging plans of usefulness, to have a prim urchin continually twitching back the elbow to prevent the hand from drawing out an almost empty purse, whispering at the same time some prudential maxim about the priority of justice.

Destructive, however, as riches and inherited honours are to the human character, women are more debased and cramped, if possible, by them than men, because men may still in some degree unfold their faculties by becoming soldiers and statesmen.

[...]

The preposterous distinctions of rank, which render civilization a curse, by dividing the world between voluptuous tyrants and cunning envious dependents, corrupt, almost equally, every class of people, because respectability is not attached to the discharge of the relative duties of life, but to the station, and when the duties are not fulfilled the affections cannot gain sufficient strength to fortify the virtue of which they are the natural reward. Still there are some loopholes out of which a man may creep, and dare to think and act for himself; but for a woman it is an herculean task, because she has difficulties peculiar to her sex to overcome, which require almost superhuman powers.

A truly benevolent legislator always endeavours to make it the interest of each individual to be virtuous; and thus private virtue becoming the cement of public happiness, an orderly whole is consolidated by the tendency of all the parts towards a common centre. But the private or public virtue of woman is very pro- blematical, for Rousseau, and a numerous list of male writers, insist that she should all her life be subjected to a severe restraint, that of propriety. Why subject her to propriety – blind propriety – if she be capable of acting from a nobler spring, if she be an heir of immortality? Is sugar always to be produced by vital blood? Is one half of the human species, like the poor African slaves, to be subjected to prejudices that brutalize them, when principles would be a surer guard, only to sweeten the cup of man? Is not this indirectly to deny woman reason? for a gift is a mockery, if it be unfit for use.

Women are, in common with men, rendered weak and luxurious by the relaxing pleasures which wealth procures; but added to this they are made slaves to their persons, and must render them alluring that man may lend them his reason to guide their tottering steps aright. Or should they be ambitious, they must govern their tyrants by sinister tricks, for without rights there cannot be any incumbent duties. The laws respecting woman, which I mean to discuss in a future part, make an absurd unit of a man and his wife; and then, by the easy transition of only considering him as responsible, she is reduced to a mere cipher.

The being who discharges the duties of its station is independent; and, speaking of women at large, their first duty is to find themselves as rational creatures, and the next, in point of importance, as citizens, is that, which includes so many, of a mother. The rank in life which dispenses with their fulfilling this duty, necessarily degrades them by making them mere dolls. Or should they turn to something more important than merely fitting drapery upon a smooth block, their minds are only occupied by some soft platonic attachment; or the actual management of an intrigue may keep their thoughts in motion; for when they neglect domestic duties, they have it not in their power to take the field, and march and counter-march like soldiers, or wrangle in the senate to keep their faculties from rusting.

I know that, as a proof of the inferiority of the sex, Rousseau has exultingly exclaimed, How can they leave the nursery for the camp! And the camp has by some moralists been proved the school of the most heroic virtues; though I think it would puzzle a keen casuist to prove the reasonableness of the greater number of wars that have dubbed heroes. I do not mean to consider this question critically; because, having frequently viewed these freaks of ambition as the first natural mode of civilization, when the ground must be torn up, and the woods cleared by fire and sword, I do not choose to call them pests; but surely the present system of war has little connection with virtue of any denomination, being rather the school of finesse and effeminacy than of fortitude.

Yet, if defensive war, the only justifiable war, in the present advanced state of society, where virtue can show its face and ripen amidst the rigours which purify the air on the mountain's top, were alone to be adopted as just and glorious, the true heroism of antiquity might again animate female bosoms. But fair and softly, gentle reader, male or female, do not alarm thyself, for though I have compared the character of a modern soldier with that of a civilized woman, I am not going to advise them to turn their distaff into a musket, though I sincerely wish to see the bayonet converted into a pruning-hook. I only re-created an imagination, fatigued by contemplating the vices and follies which all proceed from a feculent stream of wealth that has muddied the pure rills of natural affection, by supposing that society will some time or other be so constituted, that man must necessarily fulfil the duties of a citizen, or be despised, and that while he was employed in any of the departments of civil life, his wife, also an active citizen, should be equally intent to manage her family, educate her children, and assist her neighbours.

But to render her really virtuous and useful, she must not, if she discharge her civil duties, want individually the protection of civil laws; she must not be dependent on her husband's bounty for her subsistence during his life, or support after his death; for how can a being be generous who has nothing of its own? or virtuous who is not free? The wife, in the present state of things, who is faithful to her husband, and neither suckles nor educates her children, scarcely deserves the name of a wife, and has no right to that of a citizen. But take away natural rights, and duties become null.

Women then must be considered as only the wanton solace of men, when they become so weak in mind and body that they cannot exert themselves unless to pursue some frothy pleasure, or to invent some frivolous fashion. What can be a more melancholy sight to a thinking mind, than to look into the numerous carriages that drive helter-skelter about this metropolis in a morning full of pale-faced creatures who are flying from themselves! I have often wished, with Dr Johnson, to place some of them in a little shop with half a dozen children looking up to their languid countenances for support. I am much mistaken, if some latent vigour would not soon give health and spirit to their eyes, and some lines drawn by the exercise of reason on the blank cheeks, which before were only undulated by dimples, might restore lost dignity to the character, or rather enable it to attain the true dignity of its nature. Virtue is not to be acquired even by speculation, much less by the negative supineness that wealth naturally generates.

Besides, when poverty is more disgraceful than even vice, is not morality cut to the quick? Still to avoid misconstruction, though I consider that women in the common walks of life are called to fulfil the duties of wives and mothers, by religion and reason, I cannot help lamenting that women of a superior cast have not a road open by which they can pursue more extensive plans of usefulness and independence. I may excite laughter, by dropping a hint, which I mean to pursue, some future time, for I really think that women ought to have representatives, instead of being arbitrarily governed without having any direct share allowed them in the deliberations of government.

But, as the whole system of representation is now, in this country, only a convenient handle for despotism, they need not complain, for they are as well represented as a numerous class of hard-working mechanics, who pay for the support of royalty when they can scarcely stop their children's mouths with bread. How are they represented whose very sweat supports the splendid stud of an heir-apparent, or varnishes the chariot of some female favourite who looks down on shame? Taxes on the very necessaries of life, enable an endless tribe of idle princes and princesses to pass with stupid pomp before a gaping crowd, who almost worship the very parade which costs them so dear. This is mere gothic grandeur, something like the barbarous useless parade of having sentinels on horseback at Whitehall, which I could never view without a mixture of contempt and indignation.

How strangely must the mind be sophisticated when this sort of state impresses it! But, till these monuments of folly are levelled by virtue, similar follies will leaven the whole mass. For the same character, in some degree, will prevail in the aggregate of society; and the refinements of luxury, or the vicious repinings of envious poverty, will equally banish virtue from society, considered as the characteristic of that society, or only allow it to appear as one of the stripes of the harlequin coat, worn by the civilized man.

In the superior ranks of life, every duty is done by deputies, as if duties could ever be waived, and the vain pleasures which consequent idleness forces the rich to pursue, appear so enticing to the next rank, that the numerous scramblers for wealth sacrifice everything to tread on their heels. The most sacred trusts are then considered as sinecures, because they were procured by interest, and only sought to enable a man to keep good company. Women, in particular, all want to be ladies. Which is simply to have nothing to do, but listlessly to go they scarcely care where, for they cannot tell what.

But what have women to do in society? I may be asked, but to loiter with easy grace; surely you would not condemn them all to suckle fools and chronicle small beer! No. Women might certainly study the art of healing and be physicians as well as nurses. And midwifery, decency seems to allot to them though I am afraid the word midwife, in our dictionaries, will soon give place to accoucheur, and one proof of the former delicacy of the sex can be effaced from the language.

They might also study politics, and settle their benevolence on the broadest basis; for the reading of history will scarcely be more useful than the perusal of romances, if read as mere biography; if the character of the times, the political improvements, arts, etc., be not observed. In short, if it be not considered as the history of man; and not of particular men, who filled a niche in the temple of fame, and dropped into the black rolling stream of time, that silently sweeps all before it into the shapeless void called – eternity. – For shape, can it be called, ‘that shape hath none'?

Business of various kinds, they might likewise pursue, if they were educated in a more orderly manner, which might save many from common and legal prostitution. Women would not then marry for a support, as men accept of places under Government, and neglect the implied duties; nor would an attempt to earn their own subsistence, a most laudable one! sink them almost to the level of those poor abandoned creatures who live by prostitution. For are not milliners and mantua- makers reckoned the next class? The few employments open to women, so far, from being liberal, are menial; and when a superior education enables them to take charge of the education of children as governesses, they are not treated like the tutors of sons, though even clerical tutors are not always treated in a manner calculated to render them respectable in the eyes of their pupils, to say nothing of the private comfort of the individual. But as women educated like gentlewomen, are never designed for the humiliating situation which necessity sometimes forces them to fill; these situations are considered in the light of a degradation; and they know little of the human heart, who need to be told, that nothing so painfully sharpens sensibility as such a fall in life.

Some of these women might be restrained from marrying by a proper spirit of delicacy, and others may not have had it in their power to escape in this pitiful way from servitude; is not that Government then very defective, and very unmindful of the happiness of onehalf of its members, that does not provide for honest, independent women, by encouraging them to fill respectable stations? But in order to render their private virtue a public benefit, they must have a civil existence in the State, married or single; else we shall continually see some worthy woman, whose sensibility has been rendered painfully acute by undeserved contempt, droop like ‘the lily broken down by a plowshare'.

It is a melancholy truth; yet such is the blessed effect of civilization! The most respectable women are the most oppressed; and, unless they have understandings, far superior to the common run of understandings, taking in both sexes, they must, from being treated like contemptible beings, become contemptible. How many women thus waste life away the prey of discontent, who might have practised as physicians, regulated a farm, managed a shop, and stood erect, supported by their own industry, instead of hanging their heads surcharged with the dew of sensibility, that consumes the beauty to which it at first gave lustre; nay, I doubt whether pity and love are so near akin as poets feign, for I have seldom seen much compassion excited by the helplessness of females, unless they were fair; then, perhaps, pity was the soft handmaid of love, or the harbinger of lust.

How much more respectable is the woman who earns her own bread by fulfilling any duty, than the most accomplished beauty! – beauty did I say! – so sensible am I of the beauty of moral loveliness, or the harmonious propriety that attunes the passions of a well-regulated mind, that I blush at making the comparison; yet I sigh to think how few women aim at attaining this respectability by withdrawing from the giddy whirl of pleasure, or the indolent calm that stupefies the good sort of women it sucks in.

Proud of their weakness, however, they must always be protected, guarded from care, and all the rough toils that dignify the mind. If this be the fiat of fate, if they will make themselves insignificant and contemptible, sweetly to waste ‘life away', let them not expect to be valued when their beauty fades, for it is the fate of the fairest flowers to be admired and pulled to pieces by the careless hand that plucked them. In how many ways do I wish, from the purest benevolence, to impress this truth on my sex; yet I fear that they will not listen to a truth that dear bought experience has brought home to many an agitated bosom, nor willingly resign the privileges of rank and sex for the privileges of humanity, to which those have no claim who do not discharge its duties.

Those writers are particularly useful, in my opinion, who make man feel for man, independent of the station he fills, or the drapery of factitious sentiments. I then would fain convince reasonable men of the importance of some of my remarks; and prevail on them to weigh dispassionately the whole tenor of my observations. I appeal to their understandings; and, as a fellowcreature, claim, in the name of my sex, some interest in their hearts. I entreat them to assist to emancipate their companion, to make her a helpmeet for them.

Would men but generously snap our chains, and be content with rational fellowship instead of slavish obedience, they would find us more observant daughters, more affectionate sisters, more faithful wives, more reasonable mothers – in a word, better citizens. We should then love them with true affection, because we should learn to respect ourselves; and the peace of mind of a worthy man would not be interrupted by the idle vanity of his wife, nor the babes sent to nestle in a strange bosom, having never found a home in their mother's.

On National Education

[...]

My observations on national education are obviously hints; but I principally wish to enforce the necessity of educating the sexes together, to perfect both, and of making children sleep at home that they may learn to love home; yet to make private support, instead of smothering, public affections, they should be sent to school to mix with a number of equals, for only by the jostlings of equality can we form a just opinion of ourselves.

To render mankind more virtuous, and happier of course, both sexes must act from the same principle; but how can that be expected when only one is allowed to see the reasonableness of it? To render also the social compact truly equitable, and in order to spread those enlightening principles, which alone can ameliorate the fate of man, women must be allowed to found their virtue on knowledge, which is scarcely possible unless they be educated by the same pursuits as men. For they are now made so inferior by ignorance and low desires, as not to deserve to be ranked with them; or, by the serpentine wrigglings of cunning, they mount the tree of knowledge, and only acquire sufficient to lead men astray.

It is plain from the history of all nations, that women cannot be confined to merely domestic pursuits, for they will not fulfil family duties, unless their minds take a wider range, and whilst they are kept in ignorance they become in the same proportion the slaves of pleasure as they are the slaves of man. Nor can they be shut out of great enterprises, though the narrowness of their minds often make them mar, what they are unable to comprehend.

The libertinism, and even the virtues of superior men, will always give women, of some description, great power over them; and these weak women, under the influence of childish passions and selfish vanity, will throw a false light over the objects which the very men view with their eyes, who ought to enlighten their judgement. Men of fancy, and those sanguine characters who mostly hold the helm of human affairs, in general, relax in the society of women; and surely I need not cite to the most superficial reader of history the numerous examples of vice and oppression which the private intrigues of female favourites have produced; not to dwell on the mischief that naturally arises from the blundering interposition of well-meaning folly. For in the transaction of business it is much better to have to deal with a knave than a fool, because a knave adheres to some plan; and any plan of reason may be seen through much sooner than a sudden flight of folly. The power which vile and foolish women have had over wise men, who possessed sensibility, is notorious; I shall only mention one instance.

Whoever drew a more exalted female character than Rousseau? Though in the lump he constantly en- deavoured to degrade the sex. And why was he thus anxious? Truly to justify to himself the affection which weakness and virtue had made him cherish for that fool Theresa. He could not raise her to the common level of her sex; and therefore he laboured to bring woman down to hers. He found her a convenient humble companion, and pride made him determine to find some superior virtues in the being whom he chose to live with; but did not her conduct during his life, and after his death, clearly show how grossly he was mistaken who called her a celestial innocent? Nay, in the bitterness of his heart, he himself laments that when his bodily infirmities made him no longer treat her like a woman, she ceased to have an affection for him. And it was very natural that she should, for having so few sentiments in common, when the sexual tie was broken, what was to hold her? To hold her affection whose sensibility was confined to one sex, nay, to one man, it requires sense to turn sensibility into the broad channel of humanity. Many women have not mind enough to have an affection for a woman, or a friendship for a man. But the sexual weakness that makes woman depend on man for a subsistence, produces a kind of cattish affection, which leads a wife to purr about her husband as she would about any man who fed and caressed her.

Men are, however, often gratified by this kind of fondness, which is confined in a beastly manner to themselves; but should they ever become more virtuous, they will wish to converse at their fireside with a friend after they cease to play with a mistress.

Besides, understanding is necessary to give variety and interest to sensual enjoyments, for low indeed in the intellectual scale is the mind that can continue to love when neither virtue nor sense give a human appearance to an animal appetite. But sense will always preponderate; and if women be not, in general, brought more on a level with men, some superior women like the Greek courtesans, will assemble the men of abilities around them, and draw from their families many citizens, who would have stayed at home had their wives had more sense, or the graces which result from the exercise of the understanding, and fancy, the legitimate parents of taste. A woman of talents, if she be not absolutely ugly, will always obtain great power – raised by the weakness of her sex; and in proportion as men acquire virtue and delicacy, by the exertion of reason, they will look for both in women, but they can only acquire them in the same way that men do.

In France or Italy, have the women confined themselves to domestic life? Though they have not hitherto had a political existence, yet have they not illicitly had great sway, corrupting themselves and the men with whose passions they played? In short, in whatever light I view the subject, reason and experience convince me that the only method of leading women to fulfil their peculiar duties is to free them from all restraint by allowing them to participate in the inherent fights of mankind.

Make them free, and they will quickly become wise and virtuous, as men become more so, for the improvement must be mutual, or the injustice which one-half of the human race are obliged to submit to retorting on their oppressors, the virtue of man will be wormeaten by the insect whom he keeps under his feet.

Let men take their choice. Man and woman were made for each other, though not to become one being; and if they will not improve women, they will deprave them.

I speak of the improvement and emancipation of the whole sex, for I know that the behaviour of a few women, who, by accident, or following a strong bent of nature, have acquired a portion of knowledge superior to that of the rest of their sex, has often been overbearing; but there have been instances of women who, attaining knowledge, have not discarded modesty, nor have they always pedantically appeared to despise the ignorance which they laboured to disperse in their own minds. The exclamations then which any advice respecting female learning commonly produces, especially from pretty women, often arise from envy. When they chance to see that even the lustre of their eyes, and the flippant sportiveness of refined coquetry, will not always secure them attention during a whole evening, should a woman of a more cultivated understanding endeavour to give a rational turn to the conversation, the common source of consolation is that such women seldom get husbands. What arts have I not seen silly women use to interrupt by flirtation – a very significant word to describe such a manoeuvre – a rational conversation, which made the men forget that they were pretty women.

But, allowing what is very natural to man, that the possession of rare abilities is really calculated to excite overweening pride, disgusting in both men and women, in what a state of inferiority must the female faculties have rusted when such a small portion of knowledge as those women attained, who have sneeringly been termed learned women, could be singular? – sufficiently so to puff up the possessor, and excite envy in her contemporaries, and some of the other sex. Nay, has not a little rationality exposed many women to the severest censure? I advert to well-known facts, for I have frequently heard women ridiculed, and every little weakness exposed, only because they adopted the advice of some medical men, and deviated from the beaten track in their mode of treating their infants. I have actually heard this barbarous aversion to innovation carried still further, and a sensible woman stigmatized as an unnatural mother, who has thus been wisely solicitous to preserve the health of her children, when in the midst of her care she has lost one by some of the casualties of infancy, which no prudence can ward off. Her acquaintance have observed that this was the consequence of new-fangled notions – the new-fangled notions of ease and cleanliness. And those who pretending to experience, though they have long adhered to prejudices that have, according to the opinion of the most sagacious physicians, thinned the human race, almost rejoiced at the disaster that gave a kind of sanction to prescription.

Indeed, if it were only on this account, the national education of women is of the utmost consequence, for what a number of human sacrifices are made to that Moloch prejudice! And in how many ways are children destroyed by the lasciviousness of man? The want of natural affection in many women, who are drawn from their duty by the admiration of men, and the ignorance of others, render the infancy of man a much more perilous state than that of brutes; yet men are unwilling to place women in situations proper to enable them to acquire sufficient understanding to know how even to nurse their babes.

So forcibly does this truth strike me that I would rest the whole tendency of my reasoning upon it, for whatever tends to incapacitate the maternal character, takes woman out of her sphere.

But it is vain to expect the present race of weak mothers either to take that reasonable care of a child's body, which is necessary to lay the foundation of a good constitution, supposing that it do not suffer for the sins of its fathers; or to manage its temper so judiciously that the child will not have, as it grows up, to throw off all that its mother, its first instructor, directly or indirectly taught; and unless the mind have uncommon vigour, womanish follies will stick to the character throughout life. The weakness of the mother will be visited on the children. And whilst women are educated to rely on their husbands for judgement, this must ever be the consequence, for there is no improving an understanding by halves, nor can any being act wisely from imitation, because in every circumstance of life there is a kind of individuality, which requires an exertion of judgement to modify general rules. The being who can think justly in one track will soon extend its intellectual empire; and she who has sufficient judgement to manage her children will not submit, fight or wrong, to her husband, or patiently to the social laws which make a nonentity of a wife.

In public schools women, to guard against the errors of ignorance, should be taught the elements of anatomy and medicine, not only to enable them to take proper care of their own health, but to make them rational nurses of their infants, parents, and husbands; for the bills of mortality are swelled by the blunders of self-willed old women, who give nostrums of their own without knowing anything of the human frame. It is likewise proper, only in a domestic view, to make women acquainted with the anatomy of the mind, by allowing the sexes to associate together in every pursuit, and by leading them to observe the progress of human under standing in the improvement of the sciences and arts – never forgetting the science of morality, or the study of the political history of mankind.

A man has been termed a microcosm, and every family might also be called a state. States, it is true, have mostly been governed by arts that disgrace the character of man, and the want of a just constitution and equal laws have so perplexed the notions of the worldly wise, that they more than question the reasonableness of contending for the fights of humanity. Thus morality, polluted in the national reservoir, sends off streams of vice to corrupt the constituent parts of the body politic; but should more noble, or rather more just, principles regulate the laws, which ought to be the government of society, and not those who execute them, duty might become the rule of private conduct.

Besides, by the exercise of their bodies and minds women would acquire that mental activity so necessary in the maternal character, united with the fortitude that distinguishes steadiness of conduct from the obstinate perverseness of weakness. For it is dangerous to advise the indolent to be steady, because they instantly become rigorous, and to save themselves trouble punish with severity faults that the patient fortitude of reason might have prevented.

But fortitude presupposes strength of mind, and is strength of mind to be acquired by indolent acquiescence? By asking advice instead of exerting the judgement? By obeying through fear, instead of practising the forbearance which we all stand in need of ourselves? The conclusion which I wish to draw is obvious. Make women rational creatures and free citizens, and they will quickly become good wives and mothers – that is, if men do not neglect the duties of husbands and fathers.

Discussing the advantages which a public and private education combined, as I have sketched, might rationally be expected to produce, I have dwelt most on such as are particularly relative to the female world, because I think the female world oppressed; yet the gangrene, which the vices engendered by oppression have produced, is not confined to the morbid part, but pervades society at large; so that when I wish to see my sex become more like moral agents, my heart bounds with the anticipation of the general diffusion of that sublime contentment which only morality can diffuse.

Some Instances of the Folly which the Ignorance of Women Generates; with Concluding Reflections on the Moral Improvement that a Revolution in Female Manners Might Naturally Be Expected to Produce

There are many follies in some degree peculiar to women – sins against reason of commission as well as of omission – but all flowing from ignorance or prejudice. I shall only point out such as appear to be particularly injurious to their moral character. And in animadverting on them, I wish especially to prove that the weakness of mind and body, which men have endeavoured, impelled by various motives, to perpetuate, prevents their discharging the peculiar duty of their sex; for when weakness of body will not permit them to suckle their children, and weakness of mind makes them spoil their tempers, is woman in a natural state?

[...]

SectionⅡ

Another instance of that feminine weakness of character, often produced by a confined education, is a romantic twist of the mind, which has been very pro- perly termed sentimental.

Women subjected by ignorance to their sensations, and only taught to look for happiness in love, refine on sensual feelings, and adopt metaphysical notions respecting that passion, which lead them shamefully to neglect the duties of life, and frequently in the midst of these sublime refinements they plump into actual vice.

These are the women who are amused by the reveries of the stupid novelists, who, knowing little of human nature, work up stale tales, and describe meretricious scenes, all retained in a sentimental jargon, which equally tend to corrupt the taste, and draw the heart aside from its daily duties. I do not mention the understanding, because never having been exercised, its slumbering energies rest inactive, like the lurking particles of fire which are supposed universally to pervade matter.

Females, in fact, denied all political privileges, and not allowed, as married women, excepting in criminal cases, a civil existence, have their attention naturally drawn from the interest of the whole community to that of the minute parts, though the private duty of any member of society must be very imperfectly performed when not connected with the general good. The mighty business of female life is to please, and restrained from entering into more important concerns by political and civil oppression, sentiments become events, and reflection deepens what it should, and would have effaced, if the understanding had been allowed to take a wider range.

But, confined to trifling employments, they natural- ly imbibe opinions which the only kind of reading calculated to interest an innocent frivolous mind inspires. Unable to grasp anything great, is it surprising that they find the reading of history a very dry task, and disquisitions addressed to the understanding intolerably tedious, and almost unintelligible? Thus are they necessarily dependent on the novelist for amusement. Yet, when I exclaim against novels, I mean when contrasted with those works which exercise the understanding and regulate the imagination. For any kind of reading, I think better than leaving a blank still blank, because the mind must receive a degree of enlargement and obtain a little strength by a slight exertion of its thinking powers; besides, even the productions that are only addressed to the imagination, raise the reader a little above the gross gratification of appetites, to which the mind has not given a shade of delicacy.

This observation is the result of experience; for I have known several notable women, and one in particular, who was a very good woman – as good as such a narrow mind would allow her to be, who took care that her daughters (three in number) should never see a novel. As she was a woman of fortune and fashion, they had various masters to attend them, and a sort of menial governess to watch their footsteps. From their masters they learned how tables, chairs, etc., were called in French and Italian; but as the few books thrown in their way were far above their capacities, or devotional, they neither acquired ideas nor sentiments, and passed their time, when not compelled to repeat words, in dressing, quarrelling with each other, or conversing with their maids by stealth, till they were brought into company as marriageable.

Their mother, a widow, was busy in the meantime in keeping up their connections, as she termed a numerous acquaintance, lest her girls should want a proper introduction into the great world. And these young ladies, with minds vulgar in every sense of the word, and spoiled tempers, entered life puffed up with notions of their own consequence, and looking down with contempt on those who could not vie with them in dress and parade.

With respect to love, Nature, or their Nurses, had taken care to teach them the physical meaning of the word; and, as they had few topics of conversation, and fewer refinements of sentiment, they expressed their gross wishes not in very delicate phrases, when they spoke freely, talking of matrimony.

Could these girls have been injured by the perusal of novels? I almost forgot a shade in the character of one of them; she affected a simplicity bordering on folly, and with a simper would utter the most immodest remarks and questions, the full meaning of which she had learned whilst secluded from the world, and afraid to speak in her mother's presence, who governed, with a high hand; they were all educated, as she prided herself, in a most exemplary manner, and read their chapters before breakfast, never touching a silly novel.

This is only one instance; but I recollect many other women who, not led by degrees to proper studies, and not permitted to choose for themselves, have indeed been overgrown children; or have obtained, by mixing in the world, a little of what is termed common sense; that is, a distinct manner of seeing common occurrences, as they stand detached; but what deserves the name of intellect, the power of gaining general or abstract ideas, or even intermediate ones, was out of the question. Their minds were quiescent, and when they were not roused by sensible objects and employments of that kind, they were low-spirited, would cry, or go to sleep.

When, therefore, I advise my sex not to read such flimsy works, it is to induce them to read something superior; for I coincide in opinion with a sagacious man, who, having a daughter and niece under his care, pursued a very different plan with each.

The niece, who had considerable abilities, had, before she was left to his guardianship, been indulged in desultory reading. Her he endeavoured to lead, and did lead to history and moral essays; but his daughter, whom a fond weak mother had indulged, and who consequently was averse to everything like application, he allowed to read novels; and used to justify his conduct by saying, that if she ever attained a relish for reading them, he would have some foundation to work upon; and that erroneous opinions were better than none at all.

In fact, the female mind has been so totally neglected, that knowledge was only to be acquired from this muddy source, till from reading novels some women of superior talents learned to despise them.

The best method, I believe, that can be adopted to correct a fondness for novels is to ridicule them: not indiscriminately, for then it would have little effect; but, if a judicious person, with some turn for humour, would read several to a young girl, and point out both by tones, and apt comparisons with pathetic incidents and heroic characters in history, how foolishly and ridiculously they caricatured human nature, just opinions might be substituted instead of romantic sentiments.

In one respect, however, the majority of both sexes resemble, and equally show a want of taste and modesty. Ignorant women, forced to be chaste to preserve their reputation, allow their imagination to revel in the unnatural and meretricious scenes sketched by the novel writers of the day, slighting as insipid the sober dignity, and matron graces of history, whilst men carry the same vitiated taste into life, and fly for amusement to the wanton, from the unsophisticated charms of virtue, and the grave respectability of sense.

Besides, the reading of novels makes women, and particularly ladies of fashion, very fond of using strong expressions and superlatives in conversation; and, though the dissipated artificial life which they lead prevents their cherishing any strong legitimate passion, the language of passion in affected tones slips for ever from their glib tongues, and every trifle produces those phosphoric bursts which only mimic in the dark the flame of passion.

SectionⅢ

Ignorance and the mistaken cunning that Nature shar- pens in weak heads as a principle of self-preservation, render women very fond of dress, and produce all the vanity which such a fondness may naturally be expected to generate, to the exclusion of emulation and magnanimity.

I agree with Rousseau that the physical part of the art of pleasing consists in ornaments, and for that very reason I should guard gifts against the contagious fondness for dress so common to weak women, that they may not rest in the physical part. Yet, weak are the women who imagine that they can long please without the aid of the mind, or, in other words, without the moral art of pleasing. But the moral art, if it be not a profanation to use the word art, when alluding to the grace which is an effect of virtue, and not the motive of action, is never to be found with ignorance; the sportiveness of innocence, so pleasing to refined libertines of both sexes, is widely different in its essence from this superior gracefulness.

A strong inclination for external ornaments ever appears in barbarous states, only the men not the women adorn themselves; for where women are allowed to be so far on a level with men, society has advanced, at least, one step in civilization.

The attention to dress, therefore, which has been thought a sexual propensity, I think natural to mankind. But I ought to express myself with more precision. When the mind is not sufficiently opened to take pleasure in reflection, the body will be adorned with sedulous care; and ambition will appear in tattooing or painting it.

So far is this first inclination carried, that even the hellish yoke of slavery cannot stifle the savage desire of admiration which the black heroes inherit from both their parents, for all the hardly earned savings of a slave are commonly expended in a little tawdry finery. And I have seldom known a good male or female servant that was not particularly fond of dress. Their clothes were their riches; and, I argue from analogy, that the fondness for dress, so extravagant in females, arises from the same cause – want of cultivation of mind. When men meet they converse about business, politics, or literature; but, says Swift, ‘how naturally do women apply their hands to each other's lappets and ruffles' . And very natural is it – for they have not any business to interest them, have not a taste for literature, and they find politics dry, because they have not acquired a love for mankind by turning their thoughts to the grand pursuits that exalt the human race, and promote general happiness.

Besides, various are the paths to power and fame which by accident or choice men pursue, and though they jostle against each other, for men of the same profession are seldom friends, yet there is a much greater number of their fellow-creatures with whom they never dash. But women are very differently situated with respect to each other – for they are all rivals.

Before marriage it is their business to please men; and after, with a few exceptions, they follow the same scene with all the persevering pertinacity of instinct. Even virtuous women never forget their sex in company, for they are for ever trying to make themselves agreeable. A female beauty, and a male wit, appear to be equally anxious to draw the attention of the company to themselves; and the animosity of contemporary wits is proverbial.

Is it then surprising that when the sole ambition of woman centres in beauty, and interest gives vanity additional force, perpetual rivalships should ensue? They are all running the same race, and would rise above the virtue of morals, if they did not view each other with a suspicious and even envious eye.

An immoderate fondness for dress, for pleasure, and for sway, are the passions of savages; the passions that occupy those uncivilized beings who have not yet extended the dominion of the mind, or even learned to think with the energy necessary to concatenate that abstract train of thought which produces principles. And that women from their education and the present state of civilized life, are in the same condition, cannot, I think, be controverted. To laugh at them then, or satirize the follies of a being who is never to be allowed to act freely from the light of her own reason, is as absurd as cruel; for, that they who are taught blindly to obey authority, will endeavour cunningly to elude it, is most natural and certain.

Yet let it be proved that they ought to obey man implicitly, and I shall immediately agree that it is woman's duty to cultivate a fondness for dress, in order to please, and a propensity to cunning for her own preservation.

The virtues, however, which are supported by ignorance must ever be wavering – the house built on sand could not endure a storm. It is almost unnecessary to draw the inference. If women are to be made virtuous by authority, which is a contradiction in terms, let them be immured in seraglios and watched with a jealous eye. Fear not that the iron will enter into their souls – for the souls that can bear such treatment are made of yielding materials, just animated enough to give life to the body.

Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear,

And best distinguish'd by black, brown, or fair.

The most cruel wounds will of course soon heal, and they may still people the world, and dress to please man – all the purposes which certain celebrated writers have allowed that they were created to fulfil.

SectionⅣ

Women are supposed to possess more sensibility, and even humanity, than men, and their strong attachments and instantaneous emotions of compassion are given as proofs; but the clinging affection of ignorance has seldom anything noble in it, and may mostly be resolved into selfishness, as well as the affection of children and brutes. I have known many weak women whose sensibility was entirely engrossed by their husbands; and as for the humanity, it was very faint indeed, or rather it was only a transient emotion of compassion. Humanity does not consist ‘in a squeamish ear' , says an eminent orator. ‘It belongs to the mind as well as the nerves. '

But this kind of exclusive affection, though it degrades the individual, should not be brought forward as a proof of the inferiority of the sex, because it is the natural consequence of confined views; for even women of superior sense, having their attention turned to little employments, and private plans, rarely rise to heroism, unless when spurred on by love! and love, as an heroic passion, like genius, appears but once in an age. I therefore agree with the moralist who asserts,‘that women have seldom so much generosity as men'; and that their narrow affections, to which justice and humanity are often sacrificed, render the sex apparently inferior, especially, as they are commonly inspired by men; but I contend that the heart would expand as the understanding gained strength, if women were not depressed from their cradles.

I know that a little sensibility, and great weakness, will produce a strong sexual attachment, and that reason must cement friendship; consequently, I allow that more friendship is to be found in the male than the female world, and that men have a higher sense of justice. The exclusive affections of women seem indeed to resemble Cato's most unjust love for his country. He wished to crush Carthage, not to save Rome, but to promote his vain-glory; and, in general, it is to similar principles that humanity is sacrificed, for genuine duties support each other.

Besides, how can women be just or generous, when they are the slaves of injustice?

SectionⅤ

As the rearing of children, that is, the laying a foundation of sound health both of body and mind in the rising generation, has justly been insisted on as the peculiar destination of women, the ignorance that incapacitates them must be contrary to the order of things. And I contend that their minds can take in much more, and ought to do so, or they will never become sensible mothers. Many men attend to the breeding of horses, and overlook the management of the stable, who would, strange want of sense and feeling! Think themselves degraded by paying any attention to the nursery; yet, how many children are absolutely murdered by the ignorance of women! But when they escape, and are destroyed neither by unnatural negligence nor blind fondness, how few are managed properly with respect to the infant mind! So that to break the spirit, allowed to become vicious at home, a child is sent to school; and the methods taken there, which must be taken to keep a number of children in order, scatter the seeds of almost every vice in the soil thus forcibly tom up.

I have sometimes compared the struggles of these poor children, who ought never to have felt restraint, nor would, had they been always held in with an even hand, to the despairing plunges of a spirited filly, which I have seen breaking on a strand; its feet sinking deeper and deeper in the sand every time it endeavoured to throw its rider, till at last it sullenly submitted.

I have always found horses, animals I am attached to, very tractable when treated with humanity and steadiness, so that I doubt whether the violent methods taken to break them, do not essentially injure them; I am, however, certain that a child should never thus forcibly be tamed after it had injudiciously been allowed to run wild; for every violation of justice and reason, in the treatment of children, weakens their reason. And, so early do they catch a character, that the base of the moral character, experience leads me to infer, is fixed before their seventh year, the period during which women are allowed the sole management of children. Afterwards it too often happens that half the business of education is to correct, and very imperfectly is it done, if done hastily, the faults, which they would never have acquired if their mothers had had more understanding.

One striking instance of the folly of women must not be omitted. The manner in which they treat servants in the presence of children, permitting them to suppose that they ought to wait on them, and bear their humours. A child should always be made to receive assistance from a man or woman as a favour; and, as the first lesson of independence, they should practically be taught, by the example of their mother, not to require that personal attendance, which it is an insult to humanity to require, when in health; and instead of being led to assume airs of consequence, a sense of their own weakness should first make them feel the natural equality of man. Yet, how frequently have I indignantly heard servants imperiously called to put children to bed, and sent away again and again, because master or miss hung about mamma, to stay a little longer. Thus made slavishly to attend the little idol, all those most disgusting humours were exhibited which characterize a spoiled child.

In short, speaking of the majority of mothers, they leave their children entirely to the care of servants; or, because they are their children, treat them as if they were little demigods, though I have always observed, that the women who thus idolize their children, seldom show common humanity to servants, or feel the least tenderness for any children but their own.

It is, however, these exclusive affections, and an individual manner of seeing things, produced by ignorance, which keep women for ever at a stand, with respect to improvement, and make many of them dedicate their lives to their children only to weaken their bodies and spoil their tempers, frustrating also any plan of education that a more rational father may adopt; for unless a mother concur, the father who restrains will ever be considered as a tyrant.

But, fulfilling the duties of a mother, a woman with a sound constitution, may still keep her person scrupulously neat, and assist to maintain her family, if necessary, or by reading and conversation with both sexes, indiscriminately, improve her mind. For Nature has so wisely ordered things, that did women suckle their children, they would preserve their own health, and there would be such an interval between the birth of each child, that we should seldom see a houseful of babes. And did they pursue a plan of conduct, and not waste their time in following the fashionable vagaries of dress, the management of their household and children need not shut them out from literature, or prevent their attaching themselves to a science, with that steady eye which strengthens the mind, or practising one of the fine arts that cultivate the taste.

But, visiting to display finery, card-playing, and balls, not to mention the idle bustle of morning trifling, draw women from their duty to render them insignificant, to render them pleasing, according to the present acceptation of the word, to every man, but their husband. For a round of pleasures in which the affections are not exercised, cannot be said to improve the understanding, though it be erroneously called seeing the world; yet the heart is rendered cold and averse to duty, by such a senseless intercourse, which becomes necessary from habit eyen when it has ceased to amuse.

But, we shall not see women affectionate till more equality be established in society, till ranks are confounded and women freed, neither shall we see that dignified domestic happiness, the simple grandeur of which cannot be relished by ignorant or vitiated minds; nor will the important task of education ever be properly begun till the person of a woman is no longer preferred to her mind. For it would be as wise to expect com from tares, or figs from thistles, as that a foolish ignorant woman should be a good mother.

SectionⅥ

It is not necessary to inform the sagacious reader, now I enter on my concluding reflections, that the discussion of this subject merely consists in opening a few simple principles, and clearing away the rubbish which obscured them. But, as all readers are not sagacious, I must be allowed to add some explanatory remarks to bring the subject home to reason – to that sluggish reason, which supinely takes opinions on trust, and obstinately supports them to spare itself the labour of thinking.

Moralists have unanimously agreed, that unless virtue be nursed by liberty, it will never attain due strength – and what they say of man I extend to mankind, insisting that in all cases morals must be fixed on immutable principles; and, that the being cannot be termed rational or virtuous, who obeys any authority, but that of reason.

To render women truly useful members of society, I argue that they should be led, by having their understandings cultivated on a large scale, to acquire a rational affection for their country, founded on knowledge, because it is obvious that we are little interested about what we do not understand. And to render this general knowledge of due importance, I have endeavoured to show that private duties are never properly fulfilled unless the understanding enlarges the heart; and that public virtue is only an aggregate of private. But, the distinctions established in society undermine both, by beating out the solid gold of virtue, till it becomes only the tinsel-covering of vice; for whilst wealth renders a man more respectable than virtue, wealth will be sought before virtue; and, whilst women's persons are caressed, when a childish simper shows an absence of mind – the mind will lie fallow. Yet, true voluptuousness must proceed from the mind – for what can equal the sensations produced by mutual affection, supported by mutual respect? What are the cold, or feverish caresses of appetite, but sin embracing death, compared with the modest overflowings of a pure heart and exalted imagination? Yes, let me tell the libertine of fancy when he despises understanding in woman – that the mind, which he disregards, gives life to the enthusiastic affection from which rapture, short-lived as it is, alone can blow! And, that, without virtue, a sexual attachment must expire, like a tallow candle in the socket, creating intolerable disgust. To prove this, I need only observe, that men who have wasted great part of their lives with women, and with whom they have sought for pleasure with eager thirst, entertain the meanest opinion of the sex. Virtue, true refiner of joy! – if foolish men were to fright thee from earth, in order to give loose to all their appetites without a check – some sensual weight of taste would scale the heavens to invite thee back, to give a zest to pleasure!

That women at present are by ignorance rendered foolish or vicious is, I think, not to be disputed; and, that the most salutary effects tending to improve mankind might be expected from a revolution in female manners, appears, at least, with a face of probability, to rise out of the observation. For as marriage has been termed the parent of those endearing charities which draw man from the brutal herd, the corrupting intercourse that wealth, idleness, and folly, produce between the sexes, is more universally injurious to morality than all the other vices of mankind collectively considered. To adulterous lust the most sacred duties are sacrificed, because before marriage, men, by a promiscuous intimacy with women, learned to consider love as a selfish gratification – learned to separate it not only from esteem, but from the affection merely built on habit, which mixes a little humanity with it. Justice and friend ship are also set at defiance, and that purity of taste is vitiated which would naturally lead a man to relish an artless display of affection rather than affected airs. But that noble simplicity of affection, which dares to appear unadoyned, has few attractions for the libertine, though it be the charm, which by cementing the matrimonial tie, secures to the pledges of a warmer passion the necessary parental attention; for children will never be properly educated till friendship subsists between parents. Virtue flies from a house divided against itself – and a whole legion of devils take up their residence there.

The affection of husbands and wives cannot be pure when they have so few sentiments in common, and when so little confidence is established at home, as must be the case when their pursuits are so different. That intimacy from which tenderness should flow, will not, cannot subsist between the vicious.

Contending, therefore, that the sexual distinction which men have so warmly insisted upon, is arbitrary, I have dwelt on an observation, that several sensible men, with whom I have conversed on the subject, allowed to be well founded; and it is simply this, that the little chastity to be found amongst men, and consequent disregard of modesty, tend to degrade both sexes; and further, that the modesty of women, characterized as such, will often be only the artful veil of wantonness instead of being the natural reflection of purity, till modesty be universally respected.

From the tyranny of man, I firmly believe, the greater number of female follies proceed; and the cunning, which I allow makes at present a part of their character, I likewise have repeatedly endeavoured to prove, is produced by oppression.

Were not dissenters, for instance, a class of people, with strict truth, characterized as cunning? And may I not lay some stress on this fact to prove, that when any power but reason curbs the free spirit of man, dissimulation is practised, and the various shifts of art are naturally called forth? Great attention to decorum, which was carried to a degree of scrupulosity, and all that puerile bustle about trifles and consequential solemnity, which Butler's caricature of a dissenter brings before the imagination, shaped their persons as well as their minds in the mould of prim littleness. I speak collectively, for I know how many ornaments in human nature have been enrolled amongst sectaries; yet, I assert, that the same narrow prejudice for their sect, which women have for their families, prevailed in the dissenting part of the community, however worthy in other respects; and also that the same timid prudence, or headstrong efforts, often disgraced the exertions of both. Oppression thus formed many of the features of their character perfectly to coincidence with that of the oppressed half of mankind; for is it not notorious that dissenters were, like women, fond of deliberating together, and asking advice of each other, till by a complication of little contrivances, some little end was brought about? A similar attention to preserve their reputation was conspicuous in the dissenting and female world, and was produced by a similar cause.

Asserting the rights which women in common with men ought to contend for, I have not attempted to extenuate their faults; but to prove them to be the natural consequence of their education and station in society. If so, it is reasonable to suppose that they will change their character, and correct their vices and follies, when they are allowed to be free in a physical, moral, and civil sense.

Let woman share the rights, and she will emulate the virtues of man; for she must grow more perfect when emancipated, or justify the authority that chains such a weak being to her duty. If the latter, it will be expedient to open a fresh trade with Russia for whips: a present which a father should always make to his son-in-law on his wedding day, that a husband may keep his whole family in order by the same means; and without any violation of justice reign, wielding this sceptre, sole master of his house, because he is the only thing in it who has reason: – the divine, indefeasible earthly sovereignty breathed into man by the Master of the universe. Allowing this position, women have not any inherent fights to claim; and, by the same rule, their duties vanish, for fights and duties are inseparable.

Be just then, O ye men of understanding; and mark not more severely what women do amiss than the vicious tricks of the horse or the ass for whom ye provide provender – and allow her the privileges of ignorance, to whom ye deny the fights of reason, or ye will be worse than Egyptian taskmasters, expecting virtue where Nature has not given understanding.

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

道德经

（英汉双语）

［春秋］老　子　著

刘殿爵　英译

章婉凝　白话文翻译、注释

中国出版集团公司

中国对外翻译出版有限公司

图书在版编目（CIP）数据

道德经：英汉双语／（春秋）老子著；刘殿爵英译；章婉凝译注．—北京：中国对外翻译出版有限公司，2011.12

（企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想）

ISBN 978-7-5001-3321-6

Ⅰ．①道…　Ⅱ．①老…　②刘…　③章…　Ⅲ．①英语—汉语—对照读物　②道德经　Ⅳ．①H319.4：B

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2011）第249176号

（著作权合同登记：图字01-2012-1436号）

www.penguin.com

This translation first published 1963

This edition first published in Penguin Books 2009

Translation copyright © D. C. Lau, 1963

All rights reserved

The moral right of the translator has been asserted

Set by Rowland Phototypesetting Ltd, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk

出版发行／中国对外翻译出版有限公司

地　　址／北京市西城区车公庄大街甲4号物华大厦6层

电　　话／（010）68359376　68359303　68359719

邮　　编／100044　　传　　真／（010）68357870

电子邮箱／book@ctpc.com.cn

网　　址／http://www.ctpc.com.cn

出版策划／张高里

责任编辑／梁　斐

封面设计／奇文堂·潘峰

排　　版／竹叶图文

印　　刷／保定市中画美凯印刷有限公司

规　　格／760×940毫米　1/32　印　张／5.5

版　　次／2012年3月第一版　　 印　次／2012年3月第一次

ISBN 978-7-5001-3321-6　定价：12.00元

“企鹅”及相关标识是企鹅图书有限公司已经注册或尚未注册的商标。

未经允许，不得擅用。

中国对外翻译出版有限公司与企鹅图书有限公司联合出版

观　念

——《伟大的思想》代序

梁文道

每隔一段时间，媒体就喜欢评选一次“影响世界的X个人”或者“改变历史的X项发明”。然而，在我看来，几乎所有人类史上最重大的变革，首先都是一种观念的变革。

我们今天之所以会关注气候的暖化与生物多样性的保存，是因为我们看待地球的方式变了，我们比以前更加意识到人在自然中的位置，也更加了解自然其实是一个动态的系统。放弃了人类可以主宰地球的世界观，这就意味着我们接受了一个观念的变化。同样地，我们不再相信男人一出生就该主宰女人，甚至也不再认为男女之别是不可动摇的本质区分；这也是观念的变化。如果说环保运动和女权运动有任何影响的话，那些影响一定就是从大脑开始的。也不要只看好事，20世纪最惨绝人寰的浩劫最初也只不过是一些小小的观念，危险的观念。比如说一位德国人，他相信人类的进化必以“次等种族”的灭绝为代价……

这套丛书不叫“伟大的巨著”，是因为它们体积都不大，而且还有不少是抽取自某些名著的章节。可它们却全是伟大的观念，例如达尔文论天择，潘恩论常识，它们共同构成了人类的观念地图。从头看它们一遍，就是检视文明所走过的道路，从深处理解我们今天变成这个样子的原因。

也许你会发现其中有些陌生的名字，或者看起来没有那么“伟大”的篇章（譬如普鲁斯特追忆他的阅读时光），但你千万不要小看它们。因为真正重要、真正能够产生启蒙效果的观念往往具有跨界移动的能力，它会跨越时空，离开它原属的领域，在另一个世界产生意外的效果。就像马可·波罗在监狱里述说的异国图景，当时有谁料得到那些荒诞的故事会诱发出哥伦布的旅程呢？我也无法猜测，这套小书的读者里头会不会有下一个哥伦布，他将带着令人惊奇的观念航向自己的大海。

《伟大的思想》中文版序

企鹅《伟大的思想》丛书2004年开始出版。在英国，已付印80种，尚有20种计划出版。美国出版的丛书规模略小，德国的同类丛书规模更小一些。丛书销量已远远超过200万册，在全球很多人中间，尤其是学生当中，普及了哲学和政治学。中文版《伟大的思想》丛书的推出，迈出了新的一步，令人欢欣鼓舞。

推出这套丛书的目的是让读者再次与一些伟大的非小说类经典著作面对面地交流。太长时间以来，确定版本依据这样一个假设——读者在教室里学习这些著作，因此需要导读、详尽的注释、参考书目等。此类版本无疑非常有用，但我想，如果能够重建托马斯·潘恩《常识》或约翰·罗斯金《艺术与人生》初版时的环境，重新营造更具亲和力的氛围，那也是一件有意思的事。当时，读者除了原作者及其自身的理性思考外没有其他参照。

这样做有一定的缺点：每个作者的话难免有难解或不可解之处，一些重要的背景知识会缺失。例如，读者对亨利·梭罗创作时的情况毫无头绪，也不了解该书的接受情况及影响。不过，这样做的优点也很明显。最突出的优点是，作者的初衷又一次变得重要起来——托马斯·潘恩的愤怒、查尔斯·达尔文的灵光、塞内加的隐逸。这些作家在那么多国家影响了那么多人的生活，其影响不可估量，有的长达几个世纪，读他们书的乐趣罕有匹敌。没有亚当·斯密或阿图尔·叔本华，难以想象我们今天的世界。这些小书的创作年代已很久远，但其中的话已彻底改变了我们的政治学、经济学、智力生活、社会规划和宗教信仰。

《伟大的思想》丛书一直求新求变。地区不同，收录的作家也不同。在中国或美国，一些作家更受欢迎。英国《伟大的思想》收录的一些作家在其他地方则默默无闻。称其为“伟大的思想”，我们亦慎之又慎。思想之伟大，在于其影响之深远，而不意味着这些思想是“好”的，实际上一些书可列入“坏”思想之列。丛书中很多作家受到同一丛书其他作家的很大影响，例如，马塞尔·普鲁斯特承认受约翰·罗斯金影响很大，米歇尔·德·蒙田也承认深受塞内加影响，但其他作家彼此憎恨，如果发现他们被收入同一丛书，一定会气愤难平。不过，读者可自行决定这些思想是否合理。我们衷心希望，您能在阅读这些杰作中得到乐趣。

《伟大的思想》出版者

西蒙·温德尔

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

Penguin's Great Ideas series began publication in 2004. In the UK we now have 80 copies in print with plans to publish a further 20. A somewhat smaller list is published in the USA and a related, even smaller series in Germany. The books have sold now well over two million copies and have popularized philosophy and politics for many people around the world — particularly students. The launch of a Chinese Great Ideas series is an extremely exciting new development.

The intention behind the series was to allow readers to be once more face to face with some of the great non-fiction classics. For too long the editions of these books were created on the assumption that you were studying them in the classroom and that the student needed an introduction, extensive notes, a bibliography and so on. While this sort of edition is of course extremely useful, I thought it would be interesting to recreate a more intimate feeling — to recreate the atmosphere in which, for example, Thomas Paine's Common Sense or John Ruskin's On Art and Life was first published — where the reader has no other guide than the original author and his or her own common sense.

This method has its severe disadvantages — there will inevitably be statements made by each author which are either hard or impossible to understand, some important context might be missing. For example the reader has no clue as to the conditions under which Henry Thoreau was writing his book and the reader cannot be aware of the book's reception or influence. The advantages however are very clear — most importantly the original intentions of the author become once more important. The sense of anger in Thomas Paine, of intellectual excitement in Charles Darwin, of resignation in Seneca — few things can be more thrilling than to read writers who have had such immeasurable influence on so many lives, sometimes for centuries, in many different countries. Our world would not make sense without Adam Smith or Arthur Schopenhauer — our politics, economics, intellectual lives, social planning, religious beliefs have all been fundamentally changed by the words in these little books, first written down long ago.

The Great Ideas series continues to change and evolve. In different parts of the world different writers would be included. In China or in the United States there are some writers who are liked much more than others. In the UK there are writers in the Great Ideas series who are ignored elsewhere. We have also been very careful to call the series Great Ideas — these ideas are great because they have been so enormously influential, but this does not mean that they are Good Ideas — indeed some of the books would probably qualify as Bad Ideas. Many of the writers in the series have been massively influenced by others in the series — for example Marcel Proust owned so much to John Ruskin, Michel de Montaigne to Seneca. But others hated each other and would be distressed to find themselves together in the same series！But readers can decide the validity of these ideas for themselves. We very much hope that you enjoy these remarkable books.

Simon Winder

Publisher

Great Ideas

目录

观　念

《伟大的思想》中文版序

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

卷一

一　章

二　章

三　章

四　章

五　章

六　章

七　章

八　章

九　章

十　章

十一章

十二章

十三章

十四章

十五章

十六章

十七章

十八章

十九章

二十章

二十一章

二十二章

二十三章

二十四章

二十五章

二十六章

二十七章

二十八章

二十九章

三十章

三十一章

三十二章

三十三章

三十四章

三十五章

三十六章

三十七章

卷二

三十八章

三十九章

四十章

四十一章

四十二章

四十三章

四十四章

四十五章

四十六章

四十七章

四十八章

四十九章

五十章

五十一章

五十二章

五十三章

五十四章

五十五章

五十六章

五十七章

五十八章

五十九章

六十章

六十一章

六十二章

六十三章

六十四章

六十五章

六十六章

六十七章

六十八章

六十九章

七十章

七十一章

七十二章

七十三章

七十四章

七十五章

七十六章

七十七章

七十八章

七十九章

八十章

八十一章

Book One

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

XXV

XXVI

XXVII

XXVIII

XXIX

XXX

XXXI

XXXII

XXXIII

XXXIV

XXXV

XXXVI

XXXVII

Book Two

XXXVIII

XXXIX

XL

XLI

XLII

XLIII

XLIV

XLV

XLVI

XLVII

XLVIII

XLIX

L

LI

LII

LIII

LIV

LV

LVI

LVII

LVIII

LIX

LX

LXI

LXII

LXIII

LXIV

LXV

LXVI

LXVII

LXVIII

LXIX

LXX

LXXI

LXXII

LXXIII

LXXIV

LXXV

LXXVI

LXXVII

LXXVIII

LXXIX

LXXX

LXXXI

返回总目录

卷一

一　章

道可道，非常道[1]；名可名，非常名[2]。无名天地之始，有名万物之母[3]。故常无，欲以观其妙[4]；常有，欲以观其徼[5]；此两者，同出而异名[6]，同谓之玄[7]。玄之又玄，众妙之门[8]。

译文：凡是可以言说的道，都不是永恒的自然之道；凡是可以命名的名，都不是永恒的名。天地之始原本无名，而万物却源于有名。所以，只有修养到“无”的境界，才能看到自然的奥妙，但必须要从“有”来观察，才能看到万物的边际。其实，“有”和“无”本质上相同，有着共同的起源，只是表现形式和名称不同罢了；因为是同体同源，所以都可称之为“玄”，它们幽深远大，是理解天地自然众多奥妙秘密的大门。

————————————————————

[1] 这句中第一个“道”字是名词，指可言之道，即万事万物的规律；第二个“道”字是动词，指言说；第三个“道”字是名词，指通达于万事万物的一种境界。常：永恒。

[2] 这句中第二个“名”字是动词，指命名；第三个“名”字是名词，是老子“道”之名。

[3] 无：无形体，指形而上的“道”。始：开端、根源，有原始纯朴之意。有：有形体，指天地自然。母：开始。

[4] 妙：奥妙。

[5] 徼：边，引申为边际。

[6] 此两者：“有”与“无”。同出：同出于“道”。

[7] 玄：幽昧深远，其色黝然，是老子《道德经》思想中的一个重要的概念，有深远看不透的意思。

[8] 之：而。众妙之门：一切变化的门户。

二　章

天下皆知美之为美，斯恶矣[1]；皆知善之为善，斯不善矣。故有无相生，难易相成，长短相形，高下相倾，音声相和，前后相随[2]。是以圣人处无为之事[3]，行不言之教[4]。万物作焉而不辞，生而不有，为而不恃，功成而弗居[5]。夫唯弗居，是以不去[6]。

译文：如果天下的人都知道什么是美，那么丑就显露出来了；如果天下的人都知道什么是善，那么恶就显露出来了。所以，有与无在对应中相生互变，难与易在对应中互为成功的条件，长与短只是在对应中相互比较而言，高与下在对应中相互倾斜而归于平等，音与声在对应中相互构成自然界和谐的音律，前与后是在对应中相随而来去的。因此，圣人做事只是顺其自然；他用行为自然而然地影响人们，用不着发号令强行向人们灌输什么道理。他化生万物，但并不统治万物；他使万物生存，却不去占有万物；他慷慨赐予万物一切，而不以此为自己的功绩。正是因为他不居功，他的功绩才永远不会被抹杀。

————————————————————

[1] 恶：丑。斯：则、就。

[2] 此处“有无、难易、长短、高下、音声、先后”六者都是在对应中相互转换、相依相存的。

[3] 是以：连词，承上启下，通过总结上文得出结论。圣人：道家最高的理想人物：此处指符合道家政治原则的统治者。处：处居、执行。无为：顺其自然、不妄为。事：政事。

[4] 行：做、办。不言：不待语言；此处指为政治理者少发号令和政令。

[5] 不辞：任其自然而不加干涉。不有：不占有、不据有。不恃：不期待回报。弗居：于事不居其功。

[6] 不去：不会失去。

三　章

不尚贤[1]，使民不争[2]；不贵难得之货，使民不为盗[3]；不见可欲，使民心不乱[4]。是以圣人之治，虚其心，实其腹，弱其志，强其骨[5]；常使民无知无欲，使夫智者不敢为也。为无为，则无不治[6]。

译文：不标榜贤才，使人民不去争逐名位。不看重稀有难得的物品，使人民不去用非正常手段获得它们。不炫耀可以引起贪欲的事物，使民心不被扰乱。因此，圣人管理人民的方法是：净化他们的思想、满足他们的安饱需求，淡化他们的志向欲望，强健他们的筋骨肌肉。始终使人民无欺诈争盗的心智和欲念，处于返朴守淳的状态，这样一来，个别的“智者”也就不敢有所作为了。所有人的行为都顺其自然，也就没有什么不能治理的了。

————————————————————

[1] 尚：崇尚、推崇。贤：才、能。尚贤：好名。标榜贤良，崇尚有为。

[2] 不争：不争功名，回归自然。

[3] 难得之货：凭借正常手段从正常渠道难以得到的东西，凡指钱财。盗：偷、窃。

[4] 见：通“现”，呈现、炫耀的意思。可欲：可以惹引人之欲望的事或物，如美色、美味、美物等。

[5] 虚：虚寂、净化。实：哺饱。弱：减弱、削弱。强：强壮、强化。

[6] 知：通“智”。无知无欲：无欺诈争盗的心智和欲念，返朴守淳。

四　章

道冲，而用之或不盈[1]。渊兮，似万物之宗[2]。挫其锐，解其纷，和其光，同其尘[3]。湛兮，似或存[4]。吾不知谁之子，象帝之先[5]。

译文：道虚空而不满，但它却取之不尽、用之不竭。它渊深澄寂，就好像是天下万物的主宗一样。顿挫它的坚锐、化解它的纷扰、涵敛它的光芒、互同它于尘俗。它依然是澄澄湛湛，似无或存。我不知道它是谁的后代，它好像比能主宰万有的大帝要早。

————————————————————

[1] 冲：“虚”的意思。盈：满、溢、尽。

[2] 渊：幽深，形容道境深远，找不到边际。宗：祖。

[3] 挫：锉，锉磨。锐：锐气。纷：忿，不切合实际的纷纷之想。和：涵、合。同：混同。尘：尘埃，此处指尘世、尘俗。

[4] 湛：澄（沉）、没；此处指“道”隐而无形。

[5] 象：似、像。帝：大帝、天帝。

五　章

天地不仁[1]，以万物为刍狗[2]；圣人不仁[3]，以百姓为刍狗。天地之间，其犹橐籥乎[4]？虚而不屈[5]，动而愈出。多言数穷[6]，不如守中[7]。

译文：天地无所偏私、偏倚，它对万物同等看待，万物按春夏秋冬自然地生长和消亡，好像人们祭祀用的刍狗一样。圣人也无所偏爱、亲疏，他对所有人都同等看待，人们按照自然规律自作自息，好像人们祭把用的刍狗一样。天地犹如一只嘘吸不已的大风箱，看似空虚，其实无穷，静而藏之，动而用之便有，越动越生生不已。圣人也应当与天地一样，持守中正虚静，不必对人对事多作肯定或否定，才能使人们生生不息。

————————————————————

[1] 仁：亲、爱，此处指有私心的偏爱。

[2] 刍狗：古人用谷草扎成的用以祭祀天地神灵的狗。祭祀时，祭者将盖上花布的“刍狗”恭敬地放在神前，祭祀完毕即扔弃，任人践踏，无顾惜之意。

[3] 圣人不仁：圣人无所偏爱、亲疏。

[4] 橐籥：古人用手操作的鼓风器具，犹如今日的风箱。

[5] 不屈：不尽、不竭。

[6] 多言：指政令繁多。数：通“速”。穷：尽，不通，引申为行不通、碰壁。

[7] 中：通“冲”，“虚”的意思。守中：保持中正虚静。

六　章

谷神不死[1]，是谓玄牝[2]。玄牝之门，是谓天地根[3]。绵绵若存[4]，用之不勤[5]。

译文：谷神虚空而奥妙无穷、永不失灭，可称为“微妙的母性”。微妙的母性是天地万物生命源泉的根本。它在时间的长河中，好像是绵绵不绝的存在，化育万物的功能，也是用之不尽的。

————————————————————

[1] 谷：山谷，指两山夹峙间中空低洼地，可以喻虚空或中空无物。神：神妙莫测。不死：不穷竭，此处喻变化无穷。

[2] 玄：微妙难知。牝：母体。玄牝：微妙的母性。

[3] 门：门户。根：根源。

[4] 绵绵：微微而不绝。

[5] 勤：尽。不勤：不穷尽。

七　章

天长地久。天地所以能长且久者，以其不自生[1]，故能长生[2]。是以圣人后其身而身先[3]，外其身而身存。非以其无私邪？故能成其私[4]。

译文：天是长在地是久存的。天地之所以能够长久存在，是因为天地不为自己的需要而生，因而能够长久存在。因此，圣人将自己的肉体生命价值放在众人之后，结果反而能使自己处于众人之先；将自己的肉体生命置之度外，结果反而能使生命长存。并非圣人没有私心，只是因为圣人彻悟了大道，所以才能够成就自己的生命长存。

————————————————————

[1] 自生：为自已谋生，此处指为自己私利而生存运作。

[2] 长生：长久生存。

[3] 后其身而身先：置自身于最后，结果反而能占先。

[4] 成其私：成就他自已。

八　章

上善若水[1]。水善利万物而不争，处众人之所恶，故几于[2]。居善地[3]，心善渊[4]，与善仁[5]，言善信，政善治[6]，事善能，动善时。夫唯不争，故无尤[7]。

译文：一个人如果要合乎道的意识、行为，就要做到如水一样。水有利于万物而不与万物相争，宁愿自居在众人所厌恶的低下、隐蔽的地方，所以，水具有非常接近于道的特性。一个人如果能做到如水一样，就要善于自处而甘居下地，心胸虚静深沉，与人与物宽厚仁慈，说话遵守诚信，为政精简清明，处事调剂融和，行动遵从恰当的天时节令。正是由于不与人相争、不与物相争，才能永无过患而安然处顺。

————————————————————

[1] 上善：合乎道的意识、行为。

[2] 几：接近，相似。几于道：接近于道或相似于道。

[3] 地：低卑的意思。

[4] 渊：深静的意思。

[5] 与：予，指和别人相交。

[6] 政：有行政的意思。

[7] 尤：过失。

九　章

持而盈之[1]，不如其已[2]；揣而之[3]，不可长保。金玉满堂，莫之能守。富贵而骄，自遗其咎[4]。功遂身退[5]，天之道[6]。

译文：物品装得太满必定会流失，不如不要装满；锤锻得太尖，尖端不可能长久保持。金玉财宝聚积了满屋满堂，未必能够守住；富贵之人若处处骄横，必定会给自己招来灾难。事业有成或使命完成之后，主动隐身退后，这才符合自然规律。

————————————————————

[1] 持：持有。盈：充盈、盈满。

[2] 已：停、止、休。

[3] 揣：读“捶”，捶打的意思。之：使之坚挺。

[4] 咎：灾祸。

[5] 遂：成。

[6] 天之道：指自然规律。

十　章

载营魄抱—[1]，能无离乎？专气致柔[2]，能如婴儿乎[3]？涤除玄览[4]，能无疵乎[5]？爱民治国，能无为乎？天门开阖，能为雌乎[6]？明白四达，能无知乎？生之畜之，生而不有，为而不恃，长而不宰，是谓玄德[7]。

译文：将灵魂和精神合抱为一，永不分离；专注于凝聚精气，达到平静柔和，好像无私无欲的婴儿一样；清除心灵中的任何邪念，心如明镜，照见万象；用无为的心态去爱护人民、治理国家；在心神与物相接之际恬然守静；不需要知识、智慧等人为地机巧，便能够明白与万物相通相识。生养万物，却不去占有万物；慷慨赐予万物一切，却不以此为功绩；化生万物，却不去统治万物；这就是玄妙的德行。

————————————————————

[1] 载：载负。也有说载为“哉”。营魄：喻灵魂。

[2] 专：集中、结聚的意思。专气：结聚精气。

[3] 婴儿：用作动词，成为婴儿。

[4] 涤除：洗涤。览：通“鉴”，指镜子。

[5] 疵：弊病、瑕疵。

[6] 天门：耳目口鼻等感官。开阖：动静开合。雌：阴。

[7] 畜：养。宰：主宰、宰制。

十一章

三十辐共一毂[1]，当其无，有车之用[2]。埏埴以为器[3]，当其无，有器之用。凿户牖以为室[4]，当其无，有室之用。故有之以为利，无之以为用[5]。

译文：车轮的三十根辐条汇集到车轮中心的毂上，中空无一物，却能合众辐条之力，使车轮旋转不息，实现车的功用。用黏土制作器皿，中间空空，才能装盛东西，达到使用的效果。建造一间房屋，必须开辟门窗，光线空气流通，才能住人。所以，“有”给人便利，“无”发挥了它的作用。

————————————————————

[1] 辐：车轮上连接轴心和轮圈的直条。毂：车轮中心的孔型部件，外连辐条，内装车轴。

[2] 无：指车轮中心的圆孔，是车轮的枢纽。也有的解释为“空处”。

[3] 埏：糅合、和泥的意思。埴：黏土。

[4] 凿：打孔、打洞。牖：窗户。户牖：门窗。

[5] 之：助词。有之以为利，无之以为用：“有”（器的实体）给人便利，“无”（器的空处）发挥它的作用。

十二章

五色令人目盲[1]；五音令人耳聋[2]；五味令人口爽[3]；驰骋畋猎，令人心发狂[4]；难得之货，令人行妨[5]。是以圣人为腹不为目[6]，故去彼取此[7]。

译文：五色俱来，会使我们像盲人一样什么也看不清楚；五音同出，会使我们像聋子一样什么也听不清楚；五味一起品尝，只会损伤舌头的味觉功能。骑马驰骋、猎取野物，会使人心情狂乱；追求难得之物、稀有之物，会使人行为不端。因此，圣人只使用有限的物品来养育自己，而不会去占有过多的物品，但求恬淡安饱，而不以物役己追逐声色之愉。

————————————————————

[1] 五色：红、黄、蓝、白、黑五种颜色，这里指代有形世界的颜色。

[2] 五音：宫、商、角、徵、羽五种声音，这里指代有形世界的声音。

[3] 五味：酸、甜、苦、辣、咸五种味道，这里指有形物质的味道。

[4] 驰骋：骑马奔驰，喻动之极。畋猎：猎取野物。发狂：心浮放荡，处于疯狂状态。

[5] 行妨：伤害行为。

[6] 为腹不为目：以物养己，但求恬淡安饱，而不以物役己追逐声色之愉。

[7] 去彼：舍弃“为目”的生活。取此：选择“为腹”的生活。

十三章

宠辱若惊，贵大患若身[1]。何谓宠辱若惊？宠为下[2]，得之若惊，失之若惊，是谓宠辱若惊。何谓贵大患若身？吾所以有大患者，为吾有身；及吾无身[3]，吾有何患？故贵以身为天下[4]，若可寄天下；爱以身为天下，若可托天下[5]。

译文：得宠或受辱便感到惊恐，把荣辱这样的大患看得与自身生命一样珍贵。什么是得宠或受辱便感到惊恐呢？得宠者相对宠者往往是卑下的，得到宠爱就格外惊喜，失去宠爱就惊慌不安，这就叫做得宠或受辱便感到惊恐。什么是把荣辱这样的大患看得与自身生命一样珍贵呢？我之所以有重大的忧患，是因为我有血肉之躯；如果我没有血肉之躯，那么我还有什么值得忧患的事情呢？因此，看重自身是为了天下，这样的人就可以把天下寄交給他；爱护自身是为了天下，这样的人就可以把天下托付给他。

————————————————————

[1] 宠：宠爱、得宠。辱：侮辱、受辱。若：乃、便。惊：惊慌、惊恐。贵：重视、看重。

[2] 宠为下：得宠者相对宠者来说往往是下人。

[3] 及：如果。无身：与“有身”相对，意义相反。

[4] 贵以身为天下：看重自身是为了天下。

[5] 若：乃；相当于才、就。

十四章

视之不见名曰夷[1]；听之不闻名曰希[2]；搏之不得名曰微[3]。此三者不可致诘[4]，故混而为一[5]。其上不皦，其下不昧[6]，绳绳兮不可名[7]，复归于无物。是谓无状之状，无物之象，是谓恍惚[8]。迎之不见其首；随之不见其后。执古之道，以御今之有[9]。能知古始，是谓道纪[10]。

译文：睁大眼睛看仍看不见的东西，称之为“夷”；仔细倾听仍听不到的东西，称之为“希”；认真摸索仍触不到的东西，称之为“微”。这三种东西无法追究推问到底，本来就是同一种东西。这种东西上不耀眼，下不昏暗，它纷绵不息无法描述，说它是一个具体的物质，它又不是物质。所以，它没有固定的形状，也不能用任何一种东西来比拟它的形象，只好称之为“恍惚”。迎面而来时看不到它的前部；跟随其后时看不见它的后部。遵循古老的“道”的规律，就可以驾驭今天的现实，也可以溯知远古万物的起源，这就是“道”的纲纪。

————————————————————

[1] 夷：平坦无阻的意思，形容无形。

[2] 希：静的意思，形容无声。

[3] 搏：抚、摹。微：细微的意思，形容无。

[4] 致诘：推问追究的意思。

[5] 故：本来的意思。混：混然，合而未分。一：这里指“道”。

[6] 皦：明。昧：暗，“皦”的反义词。

[7] 绳绳兮：形容纷绵不息。

[8] 恍惚：若存若亡、似有似无。

[9] 御：驾驭的意思。

[10] 古始：原初、太初。道纪：“道”的纲纪，喻规律。

十五章

古之善为道者[1]，微妙玄通，深不可识。夫唯不可识，故强为之容[2]：豫兮若冬涉川[3]；犹兮若畏四邻[4]；俨兮其若客[5]；焕兮其若凌释[6]；敦兮其若朴[7]；旷兮其若谷[8]；混兮其若浊[9]；孰能浊以止，静之徐清？孰能安以久，动之徐生[10]？保此道者不欲盈[11]。夫唯不盈，故能蔽而新成[12]。

译文：古代修道之人，精微到妙不可言、无所不通的境界，一般人简直没有办法认识他。正是由于一般人没有办法认识他，所以，只好勉强地描述一些他的外在形象：他小心谨慎，时时像冬天过河；他待人恭敬，好像畏惧周围的人；他严肃拘谨，似乎总是在做客；他融和疏脱，像冰水消融一样；他敦厚朴素，像未经雕琢的木一样；他心胸开阔，像深幽的山谷一样；他浑然纯厚，像一潭浊水一样。谁能使混浊动荡的状态平静下来，然后慢慢变得澄清？又有谁能使平静的状态变动起来，然后慢慢显出生机？保持这个道的人不求盈满。正因为他不求盈自满，所以他能够使敝旧的事物转化为新的事物。

————————————————————

[1] 道：老子之道。

[2] 容：形容、形象。

[3] 豫：一种野兽的名称；兽性多疑。“豫兮”引申为迟疑谨慎的意思。冬涉川：冬天涉水过河，怕冷、小心翼翼不敢贸然下水。

[4] 犹：是猴子之属的一种动物。“犹兮”引申为做事胆子很小，犹豫不决的意思。

[5] 俨：敬；形容态度恭谨端凝。

[6] 涣：疏散。释：释解。

[7] 敦：敦厚质朴。朴：指未经砍削雕琢的原状木头。

[8] 旷：空豁。

[9] 浊：水浊、浊水。

[10] 孰：谁。

[11] 盈：满。不欲盈：不求盈满。

[12] 蔽而新成：敝旧能更新。

十六章

致虚极[1]，守静笃[2]。万物并作，吾以观复[3]。夫物芸芸[4]，各复归其根[5]。归根曰静，是谓复命[6]。复命曰常[7]，知常曰明[8]。不知常，妄作凶。知常容[9]，容乃公[10]，公乃王[11]，王乃天，天乃道，道乃久，没身不殆。

译文：心态达到极度的空明无欲，持守彻底的无为安静，才得以反复观察万物生长活动的循环规律。万物生长茂盛到极致，必渐枯靡，终归寂灭，回归到原本状态，这就是“归根”；归根也就是归于“静”，这就叫“复命”，复命叫“常”，体悟天地万物的“常道”，属于明智之人。没有体悟天地万物的“常道”，乱作妄为，必然大凶大害，没有好结果。认识到“常道”的人才能包容一切，具有宽容的心怀，才能处事公正；公正才能欣望，欣望才符合天地自然法则，符合自然的“道”，符合自然的道才能长久，终身不会遭到危险。

————————————————————

[1] 虚：心灵空明无欲。极：极度、极点。

[2] 静：无为安静。笃：彻底。

[3] 作：生长活动。复：往复、回复、循环。

[4] 芸芸：草木繁盛纷杂。

[5] 根：根本、本原。

[6] 归根：回归本原。复命：复归原赋予的本性。

[7] 常：天地万物运动变化中的不变法则（原则）。

[8] 明：认识、了解事物运动变化中的法则，叫做“明”。

[9] 容：包容的意思。

[10] 公：大公、公平。

[11] 王：旺、望、助的意思。

十七章

太上，下知有之[1]；其次[2]，亲而誉之；其次，畏之；其次，侮之。信不足焉，有不信焉[3]。悠兮，其贵言[4]。功成事遂[5]，百姓皆谓：“我自然。”[6]

译文：最好的世代君主，人们只知道有他这么一个人而已；次一等的君主，人们亲近他，然后赞誉他；再次一等的君主，人们畏惧他；最次的君主，人们辱骂他。失信于民的君主，人们不信任服从他。君主珍贵自己的言行，等事业和功绩表现出来了，人们就说这本来就合于自然之道，没有什么好大惊小怪的。

————————————————————

[1] 太上：指最好的世代君主。下：民众、百姓。之：代词，代人君、统治者。以下三个“之”作同解。

[2] 其次：等而下之。

[3] 焉：于是。

[4] 贵言：不轻易说话；可引申为君主、统治者说话慎重，不轻易发号施令。

[5] 遂：成。

[6] 我：老百姓自称。

十八章

大道废，有仁义；智慧出，有大伪[1]；六亲不和[2]，有孝慈；国家昏乱[3]，有忠臣。

译文：合乎自然规律的大道废弛了，便提出了仁义道德。智慧产生之后，世间便出现了虚伪和欺骗。父子、兄弟、夫妻不和，才产生所谓的孝慈。当国家昏乱的时候，便会有忠臣出现。

————————————————————

[1] 智：智巧。伪：伪诈，虚伪和欺骗。

[2] 六亲：父子兄弟夫妇。

[3] 昏：黑暗、昏庸。乱：混乱、动乱。

十九章

绝圣弃智[1]，民利百倍；绝仁弃义，民复孝慈；绝巧弃利，盗贼无有。此三者，以为文不足[2]，故令有所属[3]：见素抱朴[4]，少私寡欲。

译文：抛弃掉那些卖弄聪明才智的做法，人们的生活可以和平安静百倍；抛弃掉那些假仁假义的做法，人们自然会复归于孝慈；抛弃掉那些取巧获利的做法，自然不会有盗贼作奸犯科。不过，仅仅抛弃圣智、仁义、巧利这三种东西是不够的，还需要引导人们复归于自然：每个人都呈现出本来的面貌，怀抱原始天然的朴素；随时保持纯净无杂，淡化欲望的思想观念。

————————————————————

[1] 圣：有明通的意思。

[2] 此三者：指圣智、仁义、巧利。文：文治法度。

[3] 令：命令、指令。属：从属、归属。

[4] 素：不染色的丝。朴：未加工的木。

二十章

绝学无忧[1]。唯之与阿[2]，相去几何？善之与恶，相去若何？人之所畏，不可不畏。荒兮其未央[3]哉！众人熙熙[4]，如享太牢[5]，如春登台[6]。我独泊兮其未兆[7]，如婴儿之未孩[8]；兮若无所归[9]。众人皆有余，而我独若遗[10]。我愚人之心也哉[11]，沌沌兮！俗人昭昭，我独昏昏[12]。俗人察察，我独闷闷[13]。澹兮其若海；兮若无止[14]。众人皆有以，而我独顽且鄙[15]。我独异于人，而贵食母[16]。

译文：不要一切学问，就会无忧无虑。唯唯诺诺与大声呵斥，两者之间有什么区别呢？善的事物与恶的事物，又有多大差别呢？众人所畏惧的，不能不畏惧。像荒原大沙漠一样广大无边，永无尽头！众人那么喜乐欢悦，有如在享受牛、羊、豕的祭奉一样，又好像春光明媚时登台眺望春色。我却独自如一潭清水，恬淡、宁静，没有显示炫耀的迹象；又像一个还不懂事的婴儿，天真烂漫，无忧无虑；我平常的心疲惫闲散，好像是找不到归宿。众人都追求更多的财物显得富足有余，唯独我只取维持生命所需而显得贫困匮乏。我多么淳朴、浑厚！普通人对任何事情都非常明白，只有我昏昧不明；普通人对所有事情都精打细算，只有我混混沌沌。胸襟要像大海一样，宽阔无际；境界要像清风一样，清远徐吹。众人对人生都有目的，都要为世所用、为人所用、为己所用；唯独有我顽冥不化，表现很糟糕。我之所以与众人不同，是因为我看重的是吸取大道来滋养自身。

————————————————————

[1] 绝学：指弃绝仁义圣智之学。

[2] 唯：指服从听命的语声，其语声低。阿：呵斥的声音，其声音高。

[3] 荒：广漠开阔。央：尽的意思。

[4] 熙熙：喜乐、高兴。

[5] 享：通古字“”，指吃、食。太牢：古代祭祀社稷时隆重丰盛的具有牛羊猪三牲之肉筵席。

[6] 如春登台：就像登上春和景明的亭台眺望春色。

[7] 我：此处泛指体道修己之士。泊：恬淡、宁静。兆：显示炫耀征兆、迹象。

[8] 孩：古文作“咳”，小儿笑的意思。

[9] ：疲惫闲散的意思。

[10] 有余：有剩余。遗：不足。

[11] 愚：一种淳朴、浑厚的状态。

[12] 昭昭：明白一切的样子。昏：昏昧。

[13] 察察：对于名利斤斤计较、精于算计。闷：浊。

[14] 澹：水深。：高风，形容行迹飘逸。

[15] 以：用的意思。

[16] 母：指“道”。食母：吃母亲的饭，吸取大道来滋养自身。

二十一章

孔德之容[1]，惟道是从。道之为物，惟恍惟惚[2]。惚兮恍兮，其中有象[3]；恍兮惚兮，其中有物；窈兮冥兮[4]，其中有精[5]；其精甚真，其中有信[6]。自今及古，其名不去，以阅众甫[7]。吾何以知众甫之状哉？以此[8]。

译文：大德，无不包容，所以无不包容，是因为只依从于道。“道”这个东西，是模糊不清、似有似无的。在似有似无、模糊不清中，有它的形象；在模糊不清、似有似无中，有它的实物；在深远而不可测中，有它的精质；这种精质非常真切，有它的信验。从今天推及远古，“道”这个名称不能舍去，否则便不能认识万事万物。我凭什么知道万事万物起始的情况呢？就是依据于道。

————————————————————

[1] 孔：大的意思。孔德：指大德之人。容：包含。

[2] 恍惚：不清楚，似有似无。

[3] 象：形象。

[4] 窈：通“幽”，深远的意思。冥：暗昧，深不可测，不清楚。

[5] 精：细微的原质。

[6] 信：征信、信验。

[7] 阅：有认识、观察、检查的意思。甫：起始。众甫：万事万物的起始。

[8] 此：指“道”。

二十二章

曲则全，枉则直，漥则盈，敝则新，少则得，多则惑[1]。是以圣人抱一为天下式[2]。不自见[3]，故明；不自是，故彰[4]；不自伐[5]，故有功；不自矜[6]，故长。夫唯不争，故天下莫能与之争。古之所谓“曲则全”者，岂虚言哉！诚全而归之。

译文：委曲可以保全，屈枉可以直伸，低漥的地方可以充盈，蔽旧可以生新，求多需从求少开始，贪多反而令人迷惑，以致一无所获。因此，圣人以固守道作为天下人的榜样。不显露自己，才更为突出；不自以为是，才更为彰明；不自我夸耀，才会有更多的成功；不自我骄矝，才能更为长久。正是由于顺其自然，不人为地去争取，因此天下人都无法与他相争。古人所说“委曲可以保全”的道理，怎能是空话啊！实实在在走“委曲可以保全”的道路，才能够得上为天下之所归，众望之所属。

————————————————————

[1] 枉：弯曲、屈就。漥：低凹、低洼。惑：迷惑。

[2] 一：指“道”。抱一：守道。式：范式、模式。

[3] 自见：自现、自炫、自显于众。

[4] 彰：昭彰、显著。

[5] 伐：夸耀。

[6] 矜：骄满、傲物。

二十三章

希言自然[1]。故飘风不终朝[2]，骤雨不终日[3]。孰为此者？天地。天地尚不能久[4]，而况于人乎？故从事于道者，同于道；德者同于德；失者同于失[5]。同于道者，道亦乐得之；同于德者，德亦乐得之；同于失者，失亦乐得之。信不足焉，有不信焉[6]！

译文：“道”是不说话、不发号施令的，一切自然而然。狂风刮不过半天，暴雨下不过一日。这是谁做的事情呢？天地。天地尚不能持久，何况于人呢？因此，从事于道的人合于道；从事于德的人合于德；从事于天的人合于天。合于道的人，道也高兴地接受他；合于德的人，德也高兴地接受他；合于天的人，天也高兴地接受他。人要是诚信不足，就会有不信任的事情发生。

————————————————————

[1] 希：稀。希言：少说话。

[2] 飘风：狂风。

[3] 骤雨：暴雨。

[4] 天地尚不能久：天地所为的暴风骤雨尚不能久。

[5] 失：“天”字的形似而误，应作“天”。

[6] 信不足焉，有不信焉：人要是诚信不足，就会有不信任的事情发生。

二十四章

企者不立[1]；跨者不行[2]。自见者不明；自是者不彰；自伐者无功；自矜者不长。其在道也，曰余食赘行[3]。物或恶之[4]，故有道者不处。

译文：踮起脚跟站者不能久立；跨大步走者不能远行。自我显示者反而不突出；自以为是者反而不昭彰；自我夸耀者不会成功；自我骄矜者不会长久。这些行为，对从事于道的人来说，都是多余、无用的，因而也是有害的。对此，常人都会感到厌恶，所以有道的人不采取这些方式。

————————————————————

[1] 企：踮着脚，脚跟不着地。

[2] 跨：张开两腿，跨越而行。

[3] 其：上文列举的行为。

[4] 物：指人。物或恶之：谁（大家）都厌恶它。

二十五章

有物混成[1]，先天地生。寂兮寥兮[2]，独立而不改[3]，周行而不殆[4]，可以为天地母[5]。吾不知其名，强字之曰道[6]，强为之名曰大[7]。大曰逝，逝曰远，远曰反[8]。故道大，天大，地大，人亦大。域中有四大[9]，而人居其一焉。人法地，地法天，天法道，道法自然[10]。

译文：有一个东西涌流长在、源源不断，先天地万物而存在。它没有形象、没有声音，独立存在，始终如一，不为一切外来势力的干扰而改变本性。它无所不在，运行不息，永远无穷无尽。可以称之为天地的母亲。我不知道它的名称，姑且称其为“道”；或者勉强称其为“大”。它无所不在、无所不包而运行不息，运行不息而无边无际，无边无际而循环往复。因此，道无所不包，天无所不包，地无所不包，人亦无所不包。宇宙中有四种无所不包的事物，而人占有其中之一。因此，人要效法大地，地要效法天，天要效法道，道本来就是自然。

————————————————————

[1] 物：指“道”这个东西。混：混然、混融。混成：浑然一体。

[2] 寂：没有声音。寥：没有形体。

[3] 独立而不改：独立存在，始终如一，不为一切外来势力干扰而改变本性。

[4] 周行：指“道”无所不至而循环运行。不殆：不息、不竭。

[5] 天地：天下。

[6] 强：勉强。

[7] 大：指“道”无所不包、无所不在。

[8] 逝：指“道”运行不息。曰：而、则、就。远：无边无际、弥漫远到。反：有循环往复的意思。

[9] 域中：宇宙、世界。

[10] 法：动词；有效法、学习的意思。自然：自然而然、自然如此。

二十六章

重为轻根，静为躁君[1]。是以君子终日行不离辎重[2]，虽有荣观，燕处超然[3]。奈何万乘之主而以身轻天下[4]？轻则失根，躁则失君。

译文：重是轻的根源，静是躁的主宰。因此，圣人随时随地要有负重致远的精神，不忘济世救人的责任感，即便燕然安处在荣华富贵之中，也依然能超然物外，不为荣华富贵所累。为什么贵为万乘之主的君王，却轻举妄动，只图眼前攫取功利，不顾丧失生命的后果？轻则会丧失根基，躁则会丧失主宰。

————————————————————

[1] 躁：急躁、躁动。君：主宰。

[2] 辎重：古代军中载军需物资的车。

[3] 荣观：荣华、繁华的生活。燕处：安居。超然：不陷在里面，超然物外。

[4] 万乘之主：喻指大国的君主。

二十七章

善行无辙迹[1]；善言无瑕谪[2]；善数不用筹策[3]；善闭无关楗而不可开[4]；善结无绳约而不可解[5]。是以圣人常善救人，故无弃人；常善救物，故无弃物。是谓袭明[6]。故善人者，不善人之师；不善人者，善人之资[7]。不贵其师，不爱其资，虽智大迷，是谓要妙[8]。

译文：真正做大善事的人，不会留下痕迹；真正话说得好的人，不会留下话柄；真正善于计算的人，用不着计算的工具；真正打不开的东西，是没有键锁的；真正会打结的人，不结绳扣，也无法解开。事实上，圣人常常救助人，不抛弃任何人；圣人常常救助物，不抛弃任何事物。这可以说是将光明延伸出来。因此，善人是不善人的老师；不善人可以作为善人的借鉴。不崇拜老师，不爱惜可作借鉴的人，虽然各怀聪明，但还是最大的糊涂。这就是幽深而精妙的道理。

————————————————————

[1] 辙迹：车辆在泥土地上行走，车轮碾过后留下的痕迹。

[2] 瑕谪：缺点、过失。

[3] 筹策：古代用于计数的工具。

[4] 关楗：门闩；楗通键。

[5] 约：绳扣。绳约：用绳束物。

[6] 袭明：将光明延伸出来，以己之明引导人、物自明。

[7] 资：资取、借鉴。

[8] 要妙：幽深而精妙。

二十八章

知其雄[1]，守其雌，为天下溪[2]。为天下溪，常德不离[3]，复归于婴儿。知其白，守其黑，为天下式[4]。为天下式，常德不忒[5]，复归于无极。知其荣，守其辱，为天下谷[6]，为天下谷，常德乃足，复归于朴[7]。朴散则为器[8]，圣人用之[9]，则为官长[10]，故大制不割[11]。

译文：知道什么是强雄，却仍然要安守雌柔，甘愿为天下的溪涧。甘愿为天下的溪涧，才可以做到保有人的德性，重新回复到婴儿那样淳朴无邪的状态。知道什么是明亮，却仍然要安守昏黑，甘愿为天下的模式。甘愿为天下的模式，才不会偏离人的德性，才能够回归到大道。知道什么是荣乐，却仍然要安守卑辱，甘愿为天下的低谷。甘愿为天下的低谷，才能够充实人的德性，从而恢复人的本来面目。人没有了淳朴本性，就变成了器物工具，圣人懂得这个道理，则成为百官之长；因此，国家大法是不割舍人的本性的。

————————————————————

[1] 其：本章六个“其”字都是指明白其“雌雄”、“白黑”、“荣辱”道理的人。

[2] 溪：溪涧；有融汇、融合的意思。

[3] 常德：人的德性。

[4] 式：模式、楷式。

[5] 忒：差错。

[6] 谷：山谷、低谷；比喻人心谦虚。

[7] 朴：未加工的木。

[8] 器：器具、器物。

[9] 之：指朴。

[10] 官长：百官之长。

[11] 大制：国家大法。割：割舍、割裂。

二十九章

将欲取天下而为之[1]，吾见其不得已[2]。天下神器[3]，不可为也。为者败之[4]，执者失之。夫物或行或随[5]，或戯或吹[6]，或强或羸[7]，或载或隳[8]。是以圣人去甚，去奢，去泰[9]。

译文：想要治理天下而强行去做，我看这种人是不会得逞的。天下这个东西，是一个神妙不可思议的东西，不可过分执著强力妄为。过分执著强力妄为必将遭到失败。事实上，万物的自行或随从，急动或缓作，强壮或柔弱，安稳或危殆，都是自然而然的事情。因此，圣人会去除过分的行为，去除奢华的行为，去除极端的行为。

————————————————————

[1] 取：治。取天下：指治理天下。为：有为、作为；指强力、勉强去做。

[2] 已：语气词。不得已：指得不到或不能得到。

[3] 神器：神圣的器物、东西。

[4] 之：助词，无实义。

[5] 物：人物、事物。行：前。随：后。

[6] 欽：缓慢吐气用以温血。

[7] 赢：弱。

[8] 载：安。隳：危。

[9] 甚：过分。奢：奢侈。泰：极端。

三十章

以道佐人主者[1]，不以兵强天下[2]，其事好还[3]。师之所处，荆棘生焉[4]。大军过后，必有凶年。善者果而已[5]，不敢以取强。果而勿矜[6]，果而勿伐[7]，果而勿骄，果而不得已，果而勿强。物壮则老[8]，是谓不道[9]，不道早已。

译文：用自然之道辅佐君主的人，不会赞成使用武力去侵略别人，每件事都必定有还报。经过大规模战争的地方，人们无法耕种，只好让荆棘生长；战后的战场，会成为传染疾病瘟疫的地方，有时甚至会并发旱灾、洪水。善用兵者，仅仅谋取胜利而已，没有必要继续逞强。胜利了不要自我骄矜，胜利了不要自我夸耀，胜利了不要自我骄傲；打仗只是为了保卫自己的生存，是不得已而为之，胜利了不能继续逞强好胜。少壮的事物伤害老弱，这不是自然之道，不遵从自然之道，只能加速自己的灭亡。

————————————————————

[1] 佐：辅佐、辅助。

[2] 强：逞强。

[3] 好：易。还：还报、报复。

[4] 荆棘：指带刺的灌木、酸枣等。

[5] 果：成果、效果、战果。已：止。

[6] 矜：自满。

[7] 伐：自夸。

[8] 壮：强盛。

[9] 不道：不合于规律大道。

三十一章

夫兵者[1]，不祥之器，物或恶之，故有道者不处[2]。君子居则贵左，用兵则贵右[3]。兵者不祥之器，非君子之器，不得已而用之，恬淡为上[4]。胜而不美，而美之者，是乐杀人。夫乐杀人者，则不可以得志于天下矣。吉事尚左，凶事尚右[5]。偏将军居左，上将军居右。言以丧礼处之。杀人之众，以悲哀泣之[6]，战胜以丧礼处之。

译文：杀人的武器是不祥的工具，大家都厌恶它，因此有道之人不肯轻易使用它。君子平常生活工作时以左边为贵，用兵打仗时以右边为贵。武器是不祥的工具，不是君子的工具。万不得已时才会使用它，使用它时恬静平淡为上，胜利了也不要洋洋得意。胜利了洋洋得意的人，纯粹是以杀人为乐。那些以杀人为乐的人，终归是要失败的，不可能逞行于天下。吉祥的事情以左为上，凶丧的事情以右为上。偏将军在左边，上将军在右边。这就是按照办丧事的礼仪去处理。战争中若伤亡较多，应当以悲哀的心情为死伤者送葬。对于获胜归来的将士，要用丧礼来迎接他们。

————————————————————

[1] 兵：兵器、兵事、兵力。

[2] 处：依靠、使用。

[3] 贵左、贵右：古时候的礼仪。

[4] 恬淡：恬静平淡。

[5] 凶事：丧事。尚：上。

[6] 泣：“莅”的误写，莅临，有到场、参加的意思。

三十二章

道常无名[1]，朴虽小[2]，天下莫能臣[3]。侯王若能守之，万物将自宾[4]。天地相合，以降甘露，民莫之令而自均[5]。始制有名[6]，名亦既有，夫亦将知止，知止可以不殆[7]。譬道之在天下，犹川谷之于江海。

译文：道本来无名，极其微妙，天下没有谁能主宰它。侯王如果能遵守自然之道，万物将会自动归附于他。就像天地间阴阳之气相合，自然会降下甘露一样，不用发布政令，人们自己就会平等地协调均匀。治理天下就要建立各种制度确定各种名分，各种制度、名分出来了，要知道适可而止，知道适可而止，就没有什么危险了。可以这样比喻，道对天下的作用，好像川溪汇聚成江海一样。

————————————————————

[1] 常：原本、本来。

[2] 朴虽小：是说“道”幽微无形。

[3] 臣：动词，服从。

[4] 宾：归附。

[5] 均：均匀。

[6] 始：开始。制：建立，确定。

[7] 殆：危险。

三十三章

知人者智，自知者明。胜人者有力，自胜者强[1]。知足者富，强行者有志[2]。不失其所者久，死而不亡者寿[3]。

译文：能够清楚认识别人的人，是有智慧的人；能够了解自己的人，是明白人。能够战胜别人，不过是有力量罢了；能够战胜自己，才称得上坚强。知足的人总是富有的，把做不到的事硬做到了，这叫做有志气。守住本分的人可以长久，精神不死的人可以永存。

————————————————————

[1] 智：机智。明：聪明。力：有力量。强：坚强、强大。

[2] 知足：不贪。强行者：有坚强意志的人。

[3] 亡：死。

三十四章

大道泛兮，其可左右[1]。万物恃之以生而不辞，功成而不名有[2]。衣养万物而不为主[3]。常无欲，可名于小；万物归焉而不为主[4]，可名为大。以其终不自为大，故能成其大。

译文：大道广博，无往而不在。万物依赖它生长，而它却对万物不加干涉，它滋养万物生长却不以此为己功。它庇护着万物却并不想做万物的主人。它无欲无求，因此可以随便为它定名，称之为小。万物归附于它，它仍然不去主宰万物，包容了万物，这可以叫它为大。由于它始终没有自高自大，所以才能成为伟大。

————————————————————

[1] 泛：充满、遍布的意思。

[2] 辞：有管理、干涉的意思。

[3] 衣养：包育、养育。

[4] 归：依靠、归附。

三十五章

执大象，天下往[1]。往而不害，安平太[2]。乐与饵[3]，过客止。道之出口，淡乎其无味，视之不足见，听之不足闻，用之不足既[4]。

译文：持守自然之道的人，天下都将来归附。归附于道，不仅完全无害，而且会永远平和安泰。动听的音乐和美味的佳肴，能够吸引住过往的客人。而“道”这个东西，讲起来平淡而无味，看也看不见，听也听不到，但万物都在用它而用之不尽。

————————————————————

[1] 执：掌握。大象：指“道”。往：归往、归附。

[2] 安：乃。太：通“泰”，有安、宁的意思。

[3] 乐：音乐。饵：美味。

[4] 既：尽。

三十六章

将欲歙之，必固张之[1]；将欲弱之，必固强之；将欲废之，必固兴之；将欲取之，必固与之[2]。是谓微明[3]。柔弱胜刚强。鱼不可脱于渊，国之利器不可以示人[4]。

译文：要想收敛一个东西，必须先扩张它。要想削弱它，必须先加强它。要想废弃它，必须先兴举它。要想夺取它，必须先给予它。这就是从微弱、渺小的地方看出大道理来。柔弱可以战胜刚强。就像鱼不能离开水一样，国家的生存命路，也不能轻易展示给别人。

————————————————————

[1] 歙：通“翕”，收敛的意思。固：通“故”、“姑”。

[2] 取：夺取。

[3] 微明：明于微，即明于“道”。

[4] 利器：有利于国家的“器具”。示：显示、耀示、炫耀。

三十七章

道常无为而无不为[1]。侯王若能守之[2]，万物将自化。化而欲作[3]，吾将镇之以无名之朴[4]。无名之朴，夫亦将无欲[5]。不欲以静，天下将自定。

译文：永恒的大道始终无所作为，但是却能够取得无所不为的成果。侯王如果能持守自然之道，万物将自行调节转化。转化后如果又萌生欲望，我将用道来使他们安定。用道来使他们安定，人们又归于完全无欲的状态。处于无欲状态便会静守本分，天下就会自行进入安定状态。

————————————————————

[1] 无为：顺其自然，无所作为，不妄为。

[2] 守之：守道。

[3] 欲：欲望。

[4] 作：生。

[5] 夫：指人。

卷二

三十八章

上德不德，是以有德；下德不失德，是以无德[1]。上德无为而无以为[2]；下德为之而有以为。上仁为之而无以为；上义为之而有以为[3]。上礼为之而莫之应，则攘臂而扔之[4]。故失道而后德，失德而后仁，失仁而后义，失义而后礼。夫礼者，忠信之薄，而乱之首[5]。前识者[6]，道之华，而愚之始[7]。是以大丈夫处其厚，不居其薄[8]；处其实，不居其华。故去彼取此[9]。

译文：有上品德性的人做善事很自然，不外在表现有德让别人知道，这才是真正有德性；达不到上品德性的人，做善事总要外在表现出不离德而让别人看出来，这已经不是真正有德性了。有上品德性的人顺应自然，无心作为却无所不为；达不到上品德性的人，行为有目的却不一定有成效。上仁之人的行为是自然无目的的；上义之人的行为是有人为目的的。上礼之人的行为如果没有人响应，他会卷起袖子强拉硬拽别人来赞同自己。因此，“道”渐行消失了以后，才产生了“德”，“德”消失了以后，才产生了“仁”；“仁”消失了之后，才产生了“义”；“义”消失了之后，才产生了“礼”。虚伪之礼是世风日下、忠信式微，乃至天下祸乱的根源。花巧之智是道的虚华，愚昧的开始。所以，君子淳厚，而不会陷入浇薄之境；或者，注重于朴实，而不致于被表面的虚华所欺骗。因此要舍弃虚华、浇薄而采取朴实、淳厚。

————————————————————

[1] 德：指一种德性。

[2] 无为：顺其自然、因循自然。以：有心、有意。

[3] 义：宜；行事得当。

[4] 攘：卷袖子露出手臂。扔：引、拉。

[5] 薄：衰退、不足。首：开端。

[6] 前识：先见之明，即所谓“智”。

[7] 华：虚华、浮华。

[8] 厚：淳厚，指“道”。薄：浇薄，指“礼”。

[9] 去彼取此：舍弃虚华、浇薄而采取朴实、淳厚。

三十九章

昔之得一者[1]：天得一以清；地得一以宁；神得一以灵；谷得一以盈[2]；万物得一以生；侯王得一以为天下贞。其致之[3]，天无以清将恐裂；地无以宁将恐废[4]；神无以灵将恐歇[5]；谷无以盈将恐竭[6]；万物无以生将恐灭；侯王无以贞将恐蹶[7]。故贵以贱为本，高以下为基。是以侯王自称孤、寡、不谷[8]。此非以贱为本邪？非乎？故至数誉无誉。不欲琭琭如玉，珞珞如石。

译文：从前得到过道的：天得到道便可以清明；地得到道便可以安宁；神得到道便可以灵异；河谷得到道便可以充盈；万物得到道便可以生存；侯王得到道便可以使天下安定。推而言之：天不清明恐怕会导致破裂；地不安宁恐怕会导致崩陷；神不灵异恐怕会导致消失；河谷不充盈恐怕会导致枯竭；万物不生存恐怕会导致毁灭；侯王不使天下安定恐怕会导致败亡。因此，贵以贱为根本，高以下为基础。侯王自称孤、寡、不谷。这不正是以贱为根本吗？不是吗？所以最高的荣誉无需赞美称誉。不求琭琭晶莹像宝玉，只愿珞珞坚硬像山石。

————————————————————

[1] 一：“道”的别名。得一：得道。

[2] 谷：河谷。盈：满。

[3] 致：推。致之：推而言之。

[4] 废：崩陷。

[5] 歇：消失。

[6] 竭：尽、干。

[7] 蹶：跌倒。

[8] 孤：单。寡：独。不谷：没有饭吃。

四十章

反者道之动[1]，弱者道之用[2]。天下万物生于有[3]，有生于无[4]。

译文：道的运动规律是循环往复的，道的作用是微妙、柔弱的。天下的万物产生于有，而有产生于无。

————————————————————

[1] 反：借为“返”、“复”；指“道”的去而回复的循环运动。又一说法：反：相反、对立。

[2] 弱：柔弱、柔和。

[3] 有：指天地万物。

[4] 无：指“道”。道无形体。

四十一章

上士闻道，勤而行之[1]；中士闻道，若存若亡；下士闻道，大笑之。不笑不足以为道。故建言有之[2]：明道若昧[3]；进道若退；夷道若[4]。上德若谷[5]；大白若辱；广德若不足；建德若偷[6]；质真若渝[7]。大方无隅[8]；大器晚成；大音希声[9]；大象无形；道隐无名[10]。夫唯道，善贷且成[11]。

译文：贤能之士听到道，会积极努力去修道；中等才德的人听到后，会有时去有时又不去；才德差的人听到后，会哈哈大笑。如果他们不嘲笑的话，那道也就称不上是道了。事实上，古语中已经阐明：光明的大道看起来似乎暗昧；进步的大道看起来似乎在退步；平坦的大道似乎崎岖不平。高尚的品德好像溪谷；纯洁的心灵能够忍辱；广博的德行总感到自我不足；强健的意志总显得怠惰懒散；质朴而纯真却好像含有污垢。特别大的四方形是没有边角的；特殊高明的器物往往是最后出现的；巨大的声音通常是听不见的；庞大的形象也是很难看得见的；道幽隐不可见而没有名称。但是，唯有道才最善于对万物施加影响，并促成万物的生成运转变化。

————————————————————

[1] 士：古代知识分子；士分三类：上士、中士、下士。勤：积极努力。

[2] 建言：立言、设言。古人建立的格言。之：代表所列的格言。

[3] 昧：暗，不明。

[4] 夷：平坦。：引申为不平的意思。

[5] 上：高。谷：溪谷：喻指卑下。

[6] 偷：怠惰。

[7] 玉：渝：变污。

[8] 隅：角。

[9] 大：高妙。希：稀、少。

[10] 隐：幽隐不可见。

[11] 贷：施。

四十二章

道生一[1]，一生二[2]，二生三[3]，三生万物。万物负阴而抱阳[4]，冲气以为和[5]。人之所恶，唯孤、寡、不谷[6]，而王公以为称。故物或损之而益，或益之而损。人之所教，我亦教之：强梁者不得其死[7]。吾将以为教父[8]。

译文：道是独一无二的，道本身包含着阴阳二气，阴阳二气相交中和形成一种和谐状态，万物在这种状态中产生。万物背着阴而向着阳，阴阳二气互相交冲而成协调和谐的状态。人们最厌恶的就是“孤”、“寡”、“不谷”，但王公却用这些字来称呼自己。所以一切事物，如果减损它，它反而得到增益；如果增益它，它却反而受到减损。别人这样教导我，我也这样去教导别人：恃力强行的人不会有好下场。我把这个道理当作教育的最高原则。

————————————————————

[1] 道生一：道就是一，所以说“道生一”。

[2] 二：自古传说指阴、阳二气。

[3] 三：阴阳二气相交形成一种和谐状态。

[4] 负：背。阴：阴气。抱：在前面、胸前。阳：阳气。

[5] 冲气：阴阳之间存在的气场，形成空间距离。阴阳二气互相交冲而成协调和谐状态。

[6] 孤、寡、不谷：见第三十九章注释。

[7] 强梁：多力。

[8] 以：用作。父：老人的统称。这里指最好的教育，教育的最高原则。

四十三章

天下之至柔[1]，驰骋天下之至坚[2]。无有入无间[3]，吾是以知无为之有益。不言之教，无为之益，天下希及之[4]。

译文：天下最柔弱的东西，可以穿越天下最坚硬的东西；看不见形象的东西可以穿透没有间隙的东西。由此原理，我可以知道无为是一种有益的处世方法。可惜，我所提倡的不言之教、无为之益，天下很少有人能达到这个境界。

————————————————————

[1] 至柔：最柔弱。

[2] 驰骋：驰驱，形容马的奔跑、穿越。

[3] 无有：指看不见形象的东西（一种力量）。无间：没有间隙。

[4] 希：稀、少的意思。及：做得到。

四十四章

名与身孰亲？身与货孰多[1]？得与亡孰病[2]？甚爱必大费[3]，多藏必厚亡[4]。知足不辱，知止不殆[5]，可以长久。

译文：名利与生命，我们更爱哪一个？生命与财物，哪个更重要？得到与失去它们之中的哪一个，对我们害处更大？过分珍爱某个事物，必然要为它耗费大量的精力；过于积敛财富，必定会遭致惨重的损失。所以，懂得知足，就不会受到屈辱；懂得适可而止，就不会遇到危险，这样才可以保持长久的平安。

————————————————————

[1] 身：指生命。多：不是多少的“多”，而是指贵重的“重”。孰：哪个。

[2] 亡：失。病：害。

[3] 甚爱：过分珍爱、爱惜。费：耗费、破费。

[4] 厚亡：惨重的损失。

[5] 止：停止。殆：危害、危险。

四十五章

大成若缺[1]，其用不弊[2]。大盈若冲[3]，其用不穷。大直若屈[4]，大巧若拙，大辩若讷[5]。躁胜寒[6]，静胜热。清静为天下正[7]。

译文：完美的东西好像是有缺陷的，但它的作用不会衰竭。充盈的东西好像是空虚的，但它的作用不会穷尽。直的东西好像是弯曲的，精巧的好像是笨拙的；卓越的辩才，仿佛有些口吃。清寒可以克服躁动，安静可以克服暑热。清静无为才能统治天下。

————————————————————

[1] 大成：完美。

[2] 弊：敝；有破败、衰竭、衰败的意思。

[3] 冲：虚、空。

[4] 屈：曲。

[5] 讷：不善说话。

[6] 躁：躁动、运动的意思。

[7] 清净：指无欲无为。正：通“贞”、“政”；引申为政治上的首长、首领。

四十六章

天下有道，却走马以粪[1]；天下无道，戎马生于郊[2]。罪莫大于可欲，祸莫大于不知足，咎莫大于欲得[3]。故知足之足，常足矣[4]。

译文：天下的人奉行自然之道，战马都养着用来耕地。天下的人背离自然之道，连怀胎的母马也要送上战场，产仔于战地的郊外。最大的罪过就是有太多的欲望，最大的祸害就是不知足，最大的过失就是想占有。所以，只有知足者才能够常常处于满足状态。

————————————————————

[1] 却：止、退。走马：指善奔跑的战马。粪：名词作动词用；肥、养的意思。

[2] 戎马：战马。生于郊：指母马产仔于战地的郊外。

[3] 咎：过失、罪过。

[4] 足：满足。

四十七章

不出户，知天下；不窥牖[1]，见天道。其出弥远[2]，其知弥少。是以圣人不行而知，不见而明，不为而成。

译文：不出门就能知道天下的事情；不透过窗户，就能看到日月星辰的运行情况及其规律。出门走得越远，反而知道的事情越少。所以，圣人不用出行便能推知天下的事情，不必亲自观看，便能明了日月星辰的运行情况及其规律，不妄为就能成就无所不为的业绩。

————————————————————

[1] 窥：指看、望。

[2] 弥：越。

四十八章

为学日益[1]，为道日损[2]。损之又损，以至于无为，无为而无不为。取天下常以无事[3]，及其有事[4]，不足以取天下。

译文：追求学问，知识一天比一天增加。遵循自然之道，欲望一天比一天减少。这样一天天地减少下去，最后便可以达到无为的境地，达到无为的境地便可以无所不为了。因此，治理天下，常常不是用谋略和手段的；用谋略和手段的，是不能治天下的。

————————————————————

[1] 为学：向外追求学问。日益：一天比一天增加。

[2] 为道：遵循自然之道。日损：（指情欲妄为）一天比一天减少。

[3] 取：治。无事：无为。

[4] 有事：有为。及：若。又：至于。

四十九章

圣人无常心[1]，以百姓心为心[2]。善者吾善之，不善者吾亦善之，德善[3]。信者吾信之，不信者吾亦信之，德信。圣人在天下歙歙[4]；为天下浑其心[5]。百姓皆注其耳目[6]，圣人皆孩之[7]。

译文：圣人没有私心，而是以百姓的心为自己的心。对于善良的人，我善待他；对于不善良的人，我也善待他；这种善才是合乎道德的。对于守信的人，我信任他；对不守信的人，我也信任他，这种信才是合乎道德的。圣人治理天下，收敛自己的意欲，使天下人归于浑厚朴素。人们都专注于自己的耳聪目明，圣人使他们都回复到婴孩般纯真的状态。

————————————————————

[1] 无常心：没有私心。

[2] 百姓：民众。

[3] 德：假借为“得”。

[4] 歙：收敛。

[5] 浑其心：使人归于浑厚朴素。

[6] 注其耳目：专注于自己的耳聪目明。

[7] 孩之：使他们都回复到婴孩般纯真的状态。

五十章

出生入死[1]。生之徒十有三[2]；死之徒十有三[3]；人之生，动之于死地[4]，亦十有三。夫何故？以其生生之厚[5]。盖闻善摄生者[6]，陆行不遇兕虎[7]，入军不被甲兵[8]。兕无所投其角，虎无所措其爪，兵无所容其刃[9]。夫何故？以其无死地。

译文：从出生到死亡，就寿命的自然现象而言，属于长寿的占总数的十分之三，属于短寿的占总数的十分之三，因不懂得养生之道而缩短了寿命的，也占总数的十分之三。为什么呢？这是因为他们太放纵欲望而不懂得加以克制。我听说，善于养护自己生命的人，在陆地行走不会遇到凶恶的犀牛和猛虎，在战争中也不会受到武器的伤害。犀牛的尖角触不到他，猛虎的利爪抓不到他，武器的利刃刺不到他。为什么会这样呢？因为他没有进入死亡的地域。

————————————————————

[1] 出生入死：从生到死。

[2] 徒：类、属的意思。十有三：占三成。

[3] 死之徒：短命夭折之类。

[4] 动之于死地：因不懂养生而死。

[5] 生生：养生。

[6] 盖：承接上文的起语词。摄生：养生保命。

[7] 陆：指山地丘陵。

[8] 被：受。

[9] 容：用。

五十一章

道生之[1]，德畜之[2]，物形之，势成之[3]。是以万物莫不尊道而贵德。道之尊，德之贵，夫莫之命而常自然[4]。故道生之，德畜之，长之育之，亭之毒之[5]，养之覆之[6]。生而不有，为而不恃，长而不宰，是谓玄德。

译文：道赋予万物生命，用大道至玄德来蓄养万物，形成万物形象，完成万物的发展。因此，万物没有不尊敬道的，也没有不尊重德的。道之所以受到尊敬，德之所以受到尊重，并不是依靠什么命令，而是出于自然。因而，道化生万物之后，便用德来蓄养万物、成长万物、繁育万物，形成万物、成熟万物，抚养万物、保护万物。道化生万物却不去占有万物，赐予万物一切而不以此为自己的功绩，使万物生长而不去主宰万物；这就是玄妙的德行。

————————————————————

[1] 之：指万物。

[2] 畜：畜养、养育。

[3] 势：势力、势能。

[4] 命：命令、干涉。自然：顺其自然。

[5] 亭：成。毒：熟。

[6] 养：给养、供给生活资料。覆：覆灭的意思。

五十二章

天下有始[1]，以为天下母[2]。既得其母，以知其子[3]；既知其子，复守其母，没身不殆[4]。塞其兑，闭其门[5]，终身不勤[6]。开其兑，济其事[7]，终身不救。见小曰明[8]，守柔曰强。用其光，复归其明，无遗身殃[9]。是谓袭常[10]。

译文：天下万事万物都有本始，这个本始就是天地万物的根源。既然知道根源，就能认识万物。既然认识万物，又把握着万物的根本，那么终身都不会有危险。关门闭户，闭目塞听，不说不听，终身都可从容不迫。如果打开感官满足欲念，就会忙忙碌碌，终身都不可救药。能够察见到细微的，才称得上明白，能够持守柔弱的，才称得上坚强。运用光亮，返照自己，使视力、脑力、智慧恢复过来，不会给自己带来灾难。这就是透过大道认识了永恒的自然规律。

————————————————————

[1] 始：本始、原始，指“道”。

[2] 母：根源、本源，指“道”。

[3] 子：指天下万物。

[4] 殆：危险。

[5] 兑：口；引申为孔窍。门：与“兑”均指耳目口鼻诸窍穴。

[6] 勤：劳疾。

[7] 济：助成。

[8] 明：目明；明白。

[9] 遗：招致、带来。殃：祸害。

[10] 袭：因袭。

五十三章

使我介然有知[1]，行于大道[2]，唯施是畏[3]。大道甚夷[4]，而民好径[5]。朝甚除[6]，田甚芜[7]，仓甚虚[8]。服文彩，带利剑，厌饮食，财货有余，是谓盗夸[9]。非道也哉！

译文：假使我掌握知识，在大道上行走，唯一担心害怕的就是走了邪路。大道虽然平坦，但人却喜欢走邪径。朝廷清除得甚为洁净，而农田却荒芜无人耕种，国库空虚，但有人却仍身着彩绣绸衣，佩带锋利的宝剑，饱餐美味佳肴，搜刮占有太多的财货，这就叫做强盗头子。这违反了道德原则，不是“道”的道路！

————————————————————

[1] 介然：或作“挈然”，意为持握或掌握。

[2] 道：指老子的道。

[3] 施：是“邪”字，指邪路。

[4] 夷：平。

[5] 径：斜径。

[6] 除：整洁。

[7] 芜：荒芜。

[8] 虚：空虚。

[9] 盗夸：盗魁、强盗头子。

五十四章

善建者不拔，善抱者不脱，子孙以祭祀不辍[1]。修之于身，其德乃真；修之于家，其德乃余；修之于乡，其德乃长[2]；修之于国，其德乃丰[3]；修之于天下，其德乃普。故以身观身，以家观家，以乡观乡[4]，以国观国，以天下观天下。吾何以知天下然哉？以此。

译文：善于建树的人所建的东西永远不可能被拔掉，善于抱持的人抱住一个东西怎么也解脱不了，如果子孙能够遵循、守持这个道理，就可以世世代代祭祀，永不断绝。用这个道理陶冶自己的身心，他的品德便可以返璞归真；用这个道理治理家事，这一家人的品德便可高尚有余；用这个道理治理乡村，这个乡的影响就更大了；用这个道理治理国家，这个国家的德政会兴盛起来；用这个道理治理天下，高尚的道德便可以普及于天下。因此，从一个人可以推知其他人，从一个家庭可以观知其他家庭，从一个乡村可以观知其他乡村，从一个国家可以观知其他国家，从一个天下可以观知其他天下。我怎么会知道天下的情况之所以然呢？就是用以上的方法和道理。

————————————————————

[1] 辍：停止。

[2] 长：长久。

[3] 丰：大。

[4] 以身观身，以家观家，以乡观乡：以我之一身而可以观他人之身，我之一家而可以观他人之家，我之一乡而可以观他人之乡。

五十五章

含德之厚，比于赤子。毒虫不螫[1]，猛兽不据[2]，攫鸟不搏[3]。骨弱筋柔而握固，未知牝牡之合而朘作[4]，精之至也。终日号而不嗄[5]，和之至也[6]。知和曰常，知常曰明，益生曰祥[7]，心使气曰强[8]。物壮则老[9]，谓之不道，不道早已。

译文：一个品德纯厚的人，好比初生的婴儿。毒虫不去螫他，猛兽也不伤害他，凶鸟不扑抓他。他的筋骨柔弱，但拳头却握得很牢固。他没有男女的欲念，生理的机能是自然发展的，而精是自然出生的。他整天号哭不止，却不会哭哑声音，这是天地和谐造成的。认识天地和谐的道理，叫做符合自然之道。体悟自然之道，就是明晓自然之道。懂得保养生命，就是吉祥；意志役使天地和谐，就是逞强。强壮的事物伤害老弱，是违背自然之道；违背自然之道，就会很快灭亡。

————————————————————

[1] 螫：用毒虫尾端刺人肆毒。

[2] 据：指兽类用爪足拿按抓物。

[3] 搏：读“捕”，捉的意思。

[4] 作：挺举、翘起。

[5] 嗄：嗓音嘶哑。

[6] 和：指阴阳调和，身体和谐。

[7] 益：养生。祥：古代用作吉祥，但也用发作妖祥。

[8] 心：思想、意志。强：逞强、强暴。

[9] 壮：强壮。

五十六章

知者不言，言者不知[1]。塞其兑，闭其门[2]；挫其锐，解其纷；和其光，同其尘[3]，是谓玄同[4]。故不可得而亲，不可得而疏；不可得而利，不可得而害；不可得而贵，不可得而贱[5]，故为天下贵。

译文：真正有智慧的人是不轻易说话的，轻易说话的人是没有智慧的。关门闭户，闭目塞听、不听不说；磨炼人们的锐气、化解他们的纷扰、收敛他们的光芒、认同他们尘俗。这就是玄妙齐同的“道”。达到玄妙齐同境界的人，已经超脱亲疏、利害、贵贱的世俗范围，所以就为天下人所尊重。

————————————————————

[1] 知：智。

[2] 参见五十二章注释。

[3] 参见四章注释。

[4] 玄同：指玄妙齐同的“道”。

[5] 不可得而亲，不可得而疏，不可得而利，不可得而害，不可得而贵，不可得而贱：指超越亲疏、利害、贵贱的范围。

五十七章

以正治国[1]，以奇用兵[2]，以无事取天下[3]。吾何以知其然哉？以此：天下多忌讳[4]，而民弥贫[5]；民多利器[6]，国家滋昏；人多伎巧[7]，奇物滋起[8]；法令滋彰[9]，盗贼多有。故圣人云：我无为而民自化[10]；我好静而民自正[11]；我无事而民自富；我无欲而民自朴[12]。

译文：治理国家要靠光明磊落，用兵打仗要靠奇巧谋略，治理天下要任其自然。我怎么知道这个道理呢？是因为以下理由：天下的规则禁忌越多，人们就越贫穷；人们的利器越多，国家就越陷于混乱；人们的奇巧淫技越多，各种邪奇的事物也就越不断滋生；法规条令越多，盗贼的行为就越不断增加。因此，圣人说：“我无为，人们自然被感化；我静定，人们就自然端正；我无为而治，人们就自然生活富裕；我没有私欲，人们就自然淳朴。”

————————————————————

[1] 正：走正道。

[2] 奇：出奇。

[3] 无事：指无为、任其自然的意思。

[4] 忌讳：不许做、不许说，即禁令。

[5] 弥：越、更加。

[6] 利器：器械。

[7] 伎：与“技”同，指机巧、智巧。

[8] 奇物：邪奇的事物。

[9] 彰：明白、明显。

[10] 自化：自然顺化。

[11] 自正：自然端正。

[12] 自朴：自然淳朴。

五十八章

其政闷闷[1]，其民淳淳[2]；其政察察[3]，其民缺缺[4]。祸兮，福之所倚[5]；福兮，祸之所伏[6]。孰知其极？其无正也。正复为奇，善复为妖[7]。人之迷，其日固久。是以圣人方而不割[8]，廉而不刿[9]，直而不肆[10]，光而不耀[11]。

译文：政治平和渐进，人民就淳朴安分；政治明察秋毫，人民就狡猾奸诈。灾祸，可能会转化为幸福；幸福，则可能隐藏着灾祸。谁能知道终极的结果呢？没有永远的正。正可以转化为邪，善可以转化为恶。可惜，世人迷惑于此，历时已经非常久远了。因此，有道的圣人方正而不伤害人，有棱角而不刺痛人，直率而不放肆，光明而不炫耀自己。

————————————————————

[1] 闷闷：借为“”，水浑浊的意思；这里借指国家政治的宽厚、广大。

[2] 淳淳：淳厚、忠厚。

[3] 察察：清、明。

[4] 缺缺：狡诈的意思。

[5] 倚：倚靠。

[6] 伏：藏伏。

[7] 奇：奇怪、反常。妖：恶、不善。

[8] 方而不割：行为方正而不割人。

[9] 廉：棱。刿：用刀尖刺物；割。

[10] 直：正直、直率。肆：放肆。

[11] 耀：光炫目，过分明亮。

五十九章

治人事天，莫若啬[1]。夫唯啬，是谓早服[2]；早服谓之重积德[3]；重积德则无不克[4]；无不克则莫知其极[5]；莫知其极，可以有国；有国之母[6]，可以长久。是谓深根固柢[7]，长生久视之道[8]。

译文：治理人民、养护身心最好的办法莫过于节省了。只有节省精神和生命，才可以早早地把自己的生命功能保持住；早早地把自己的生命功能保持住就是不断积德；不断积德就没有什么不能攻克的；达到攻无不克的水平，别人便无法估量他的力量极限；具备了无法估量的力量，他就可以担负治理国家的重任。掌握治理国家的根本，便可以长治久安。这就是所谓的根深蒂固，做到根深蒂固，便可获得长久生存。

————————————————————

[1] 事：侍奉、奉行。事天：意为养生，保养天赋。

[2] 啬：俭啬。早服：早早地把自己的生命功能保持住。

[3] 德：指“啬”德。重：多、厚、不断。

[4] 克：胜。

[5] 极：边际、顶点。

[6] 母：根基、根本。

[7] 根：树根向四边伸的叫根。柢：树根向下扎的叫柢。

[8] 久视：指长久生存。

六十章

治大国若烹小鲜[1]。以道莅天下[2]，其鬼不神[3]；非其鬼不神，其神不伤人；非其神不伤人，圣人亦不伤人。夫两不相伤，故德交归焉。

译文：治理大国，好像用文火小心、慢慢地烹制小鱼。用道治理天下，鬼神便无法施展灵通；不是鬼神没有灵通，而是他们的灵通不会去伤害人。不但他们不会去伤害人，圣人也不会去伤害人。这样，鬼神和人彼此互不相伤，就可以让人民享受到德的恩泽。

————————————————————

[1] 烹：煎。小鲜：小鱼。

[2] 莅：临。

[3] 神：动词；灵、作用。

六十一章

大国者下流[1]，天下之交[2]，天下之牝[3]。牝常以静胜牡，以静为下。故大国以下小国，则取小国；小国以下大国，则取大国[4]。故或下以取，或下而取[5]。大国不过欲兼畜人[6]，小国不过欲入事人。夫两者各得其所欲，大者宜为下。

译文：大国要像居于江河下游那样，使天下百川河流在这里交汇。天下各种事物的雌雄相交，雌柔往往以安静夺定而战胜雄强，这种安静夺定就是居于下流。因此，大国若谦下待小国，则可以争取小国的归附；小国若谦下待大国，则可以取得大国的容纳。因此，或者谦让而取得对方的信任，或者谦让而见容于对方。大国的欲望不过是接纳吸收别国加入自己的联盟，小国的欲望不过是加入别国的同盟。这样，双方都各得其所欲求的，因此大国还是以居于下流为好。

————————————————————

[1] 者：居。下流：地位。

[2] 交：会集。

[3] 牝：雌、母。

[4] 取大国：意指小国谦下待大国，则可取得大国的容纳。

[5] 以取：取别国。而取：为别国所取。

[6] 畜：蓄养。兼畜人：指兼聚或兼并小国。

六十二章

道者，万物之奥[1]，善人之宝，不善人之所保[2]。美言可以市尊，美行可以加人[3]。人之不善，何弃之有？故立天子，置三公[4]。虽有拱璧以先驷马[5]，不如坐进此道[6]。古之所以贵此道者何？不曰：求以得[7]，有罪以免邪？故为天下贵。

译文：道是万物之主，善良的人保护它、珍贵它，不善的人得到它的保护和救助。美丽动听的语言可以换来别人的尊敬，美好的行为可以获得别人的拥戴。即使是不善的人，道也不会抛弃他！因此，人们设立天子，配置三公。虽然有拱壁驷马这些价值连城的珍宝，但不如“道”的重要。古人为什么把“道”看得那么珍贵？为什么不说：有要求就可以得到满足，犯了罪要求免罪就可以免吗？所以，道才是天下最崇高伟大、至高无上、至贵无上的。

————————————————————

[1] 奥：帛书甲、乙本皆为“注”，意为主。“奥”或为后人改写。

[2] 不善人之所保：不善的人得到它的保护和救助。

[3] 市：取、买。加：使……超越。

[4] 三公：指古代天子以下的太师、太傅、太保。

[5] 拱璧：指一种圆镜形状中间有孔的玉器，为古代贵重礼品。驷马：四匹马驾的车，古代只有天子、大臣才能乘坐。

[6] 进：古代地位低的人送给地位高的人的东西，叫做“进”。

[7] 求以得指有求即可获得。

六十三章

为无为[1]，事无事，味无味[2]。大小多少，抱怨以德[3]。图难于其易[4]，为大于其细。天下难事必作于易[5]；天下大事必作于细。是以圣人终不为大，故能成其大。夫轻诺必寡信[6]，多易必多难。是以圣人犹难之，故终无难矣。

译文：以无为的态度去有所作为，以不滋事的方法去处理事物，把恬淡无味当做有味。大生于小，多起于少，以恩德来怨恨。解决难题，要从最容易的地方入手；实现远大，要从细微的地方入手。天下的难事一定要从容易的地方做起，天下的大事一定要从细小的地方做起。因此，圣人从来不企图做大事，却能够做成大事。凡是轻易允诺的人常常是不可信的，总把事情看得太容易的人必然会遇到很多的困难。因此，圣人总是重视天下事，所以才不会有困难了。

————————————————————

[1] 为无为：任其自然，把无为当做为。

[2] 味无味：把无味当做味。

[3] 德：恩德。怨：怨恨。

[4] 图：考虑、处理。

[5] 作：开始。

[6] 诺：允诺、应许。

六十四章

其安易持[1]，其未兆易谋[2]，其脆易泮[3]，其微易散。为之于未有，治之于未乱。合抱之木，生于毫末[4]；九层之台[5]，起于累土[6]；千里之行，始于足下。为者败之，执者失之。是以圣人无为故无败，无执故无失。民之从事，常于几成而败之[7]。慎终如始，则无败事。是以圣人欲不欲，不贵难得之货[8]；学不学，复众人之所过[9]，以辅万物之自然而不敢为[10]。

译文：局面安定才容易保持长久，还没有出现混乱的征兆时容易谋求预防措施。脆弱的东西容易破碎，细微的东西容易失散。做事情要在还没开始之前就把基础都打好了；治理国政，要在天下未乱时就把乱根除掉。双手合抱的大树，生长于细小的嫩芽；九层的高台，是由一筐土一筐土堆筑起来的；千里的远行，是从脚下一步一步走出来的。有所作为的会招致失败，过于执着的会遭受失败。因此圣人无所作为而不致失败，不过于执着而不致失败。人们做事情，常常是在接近于成功时遭到失败。所以，做事情，在接近完成时也要像开始时那样慎重，就不至于失败。因此，圣人追求的是无所欲求，不看重难以得到的东西；做学问达到好像是没有学问的境界，恢复到比一般人还平凡，圣人只是辅助万物顺其自然而不妄为。

————————————————————

[1] 持：维持、掌握、保持。

[2] 兆：征兆、端倪。未兆：尚未出现征兆。

[3] 泮：通“判”，分解、分裂的意思。

[4] 毫末：细小的萌芽。

[5] 台：古代建筑物，可供人游玩眺望。

[6] 累土：一筐土。

[7] 几：近；指差不多的意思。

[8] 难得之货：指珍贵的珠玉宝器。

[9] 复：返、回。

[10] 辅：辅助。

六十五章

古之善为道者，非以明民[1]，将以愚之[2]。民之难治，以其智多[3]。故以智治国，国之贼；不以智治国，国之福。知此两者亦稽式[4]。常知稽式，是谓玄德[5]。玄德深矣，远矣，与物反矣[6]，然后乃至大顺[7]。

译文：古代善于行道的人，不是教导人民知晓智巧伪诈，而是教导人民淳厚朴实。人民之所以难于统治，是因为他们的智巧心机太多。因此，用智巧心机治理国家，就必然会危害到国家，不用智巧心机治理国家，那才有益于国家。这两种都是治理国家的一个法则，时刻不忘这个法则，就叫做玄妙的德行。玄妙的德行真是太深妙了，太幽远了，它与具体的事物看起来是相反的，正因为相反，然后才能完全顺乎自然。

————————————————————

[1] 明：多智巧诈。

[2] 愚：淳朴、守真。

[3] 智多：多智巧诈。

[4] 两者：智与不智。稽式：法则、法式。

[5] 玄德：玄妙的德行。

[6] 物：事物。

[7] 大顺：自然。

六十六章

江海之所以能为百谷王者[1]，以其善下之[2]，故能为百谷王。是以欲上民[3]，必以言下之；欲先民[4]，必以身后之。是以圣人处上而民不重[5]，处前而民不害[6]。是以天下乐推而不厌[7]。以其不争，故天下莫能与之争。

译文：江海所以能够成为百川河流所归往的地方，是因为江海能够居于低处，因而它能够成为百川汇集之处。所以，要想做居上位的人，言语态度一定要谦虚；要想领导人民，必须把自身的利益摆在后面。所以，圣人虽然地位居于人民之上，而人民并不感觉有重压，居于人民之前，而人民并不感觉受到妨害。天下人都乐意推举拥戴他而不感到厌倦。因为他不与人民相争，所以天下没有人能和他相争。

————————————————————

[1] 谷：溪、小河流。百谷：百川河流。王：归往的意思。

[2] 善：善于、能够。

[3] 上民：指把自己摆在人民之上，即统治人民。

[4] 先民：指站在人民的前面，即领导人民。

[5] 重：负累、压迫、负担。

[6] 害：妨害、受害。

[7] 厌：厌倦、不喜欢。

六十七章

天下皆谓我道大，似不肖[1]。夫唯大，故似不肖。若肖，久矣其细也夫。我有三宝，持而保之：一曰慈[2]，二曰俭[3]，三曰不敢为天下先。慈故能勇[4]，俭故能广[5]，不敢为天下先，故能成器长[6]。今舍慈且勇，舍俭且广，舍后且先，死矣。夫慈，以战则胜，以守则固。天将救之[7]，以慈卫之。

译文：天下的人都说我讲的“道”很大，它不像什么具体的事物。就是因为它很大，所以才不像具体的事物。如果像一个什么具体的事物，这个道就不伟大了。我有三件法宝执守而且保全它：第一件是仁慈；第二件是节俭；第三件是不敢居于天下人之先。有了仁慈才能有勇气；有了节俭才能广博；不敢居于天下人之先，才能成为万物的领导。现在丢弃仁慈而追求勇气；丢弃节俭而追求广大；舍弃居后而追求争先，结果是走向死亡。拥有仁慈之心，打仗就能够胜利，防守就能够巩固。天要救助谁，就用仁慈来护卫他。

————————————————————

[1] 肖：相似、像。

[2] 慈：慈心。

[3] 俭：节俭。

[4] 勇：勇于谦退、勇于防御。

[5] 广：宽广、广博。

[6] 器：万物。

[7] 天：天道。

六十八章

善为士者不武[1]；善战者不怒[2]；善胜敌者不与[3]；善用人者为之下[4]。是谓不争之德，是谓用人之力，是谓配天古之极[5]。

译文：真正的勇武之士，不会有粗暴行为；善于打仗的人，不轻易动怒；善于战胜敌人的人，不与敌人正面冲突；善于用人的人，对人态度谦和。这就是不与人争的品德，这就叫做运用别人的能力，这就是与天一样伟大的古老而不变的原则。

————————————————————

[1] 士：勇武之士。不武：指不以武力相尚、不轻易动武。

[2] 怒：愤怒的意思。不怒：不被激怒。

[3] 与：对斗、相接。

[4] 为之下：居人下。

[5] 配天：与天一样伟大。极：原则。

六十九章

用兵有言：吾不敢为主而为客[1]；不敢进寸而退尺[2]。是谓行无行[3]，攘无臂[4]，扔无敌[5]，执无兵[6]。祸莫大于轻敌，轻敌几丧吾宝[7]。故抗兵相若[8]，哀者胜矣[9]。

译文：精通军事理论的人曾经说过：“带兵打仗，我不主动进攻，而采取被动防守；在双方交战时，我不轻易前进一寸，而宁肯后退一尺。”这就叫做有阵势却又不像有阵势，想奋臂打人却又不伸出臂膀，与敌对抗却没有敌手，使用兵器却像没拿兵器。最大的灾祸莫过于轻敌，一旦轻敌便丧失了我的“三宝”。当交战双方实力相当时，慈悲的一方可以获得胜利。

————————————————————

[1] 主：指战争时主动进攻。客：指战争时被动防守。

[2] 进：指进攻别国的领土。退：指退守本国的领土。

[3] 行：行列、阵势。

[4] 攘：伸出、举起。

[5] 扔：对抗。

[6] 兵：兵器。

[7] 宝：指慈、俭、不敢为天下先的“三宝”。

[8] 相若：相当、对等。

[9] 哀：慈爱、慈悲。

七十章

吾言甚易知，甚易行。天下莫能知，莫能行。言有宗[1]，事有君[2]。夫唯无知[3]，是以不我知。知我者希[4]，则我者贵[5]。是以圣人被褐而怀玉[6]。

译文：我说的话非常容易理解，也非常容易施行。可是天下却没有人能够真正理解，也没有人能够完全施行。其实，我说的话都有宗旨，我做的事都有中心重点。然而，由于人们不理解这个道理，因此也就无法理解我这个人。能够理解我的人就不多，而能够效法我的人就更难能可贵了。所以，真正得道的大圣人总是身着粗布衣服而怀揣无价美玉的。

————————————————————

[1] 宗：宗旨、纲领、主旨。

[2] 君：中心重点。

[3] 无知：指别人不理解。

[4] 希：稀，少的意思。

[5] 则：法则、效法。贵：难得。

[6] 被：披、着，指穿在身上。褐：粗布。怀：指放在怀里。

七十一章

知不知，上[1]；不知知，病[2]。夫唯病病[3]，是以不病。圣人不病，以其病病，是以不病。

译文：知道很多东西，却认为自己知道不多的人，是高明智慧的人；不知道多少东西，却以为自己什么都知道了，这是人生的大病。只有知道这是一种病的人，才不会得这种病。圣人没有这种毛病，那是因为他把这种病看做病，所以才不会犯这种病。

————————————————————

[1] 知不知：知道自己有所不知道。

[2] 不知知：不知道而自以为知道。

[3] 病病：第一个“病”是动词，即承认病；第二个“病”是名词。指疾病。“病病”的意思是把这种病看做病。

七十二章

民不畏威，则大威至[1]。无狎其所居[2]，无厌其所生[3]。夫唯不厌，是以不厌[4]。是以圣人自知不自见[5]，自爱不自贵。故去彼取此[6]。

译文：当人民不畏惧权威的时候，可怕的祸乱就要到来。不要逼迫人民使他们不得安居，不要阻挡他们谋生的道路。只有为政者不压迫人民，人民才不会感到受压迫。所以，圣人有自知之明而不表现自己，有自爱之心而不自以为贵；也就是说，排除自我表现、自以为贵而保留自知之明、自爱之心。

————————————————————

[1] 威：第一个威是威压的意思；第二个威是祸乱的意思。

[2] 狎：通“狭”、“闸”，有逼迫、封闭的意思。

[3] 厌：有压迫之义，引申为阻塞。

[4] 厌：厌弃。

[5] 见：读“现”，表现。

[6] 彼：指自见、自贵。此：指自知、自爱。

七十三章

勇于敢则杀；勇于不敢则活。此两者，或利或害。天之所恶[1]，孰知其故？是以圣人犹难之。天之道，不争而善胜，不言而善应，不召而自来，然而善谋[2]。天网恢恢[3]，疏而不失[4]。

译文：有勇气并什么事情都敢干，难免招来杀身之祸；有勇气但谨慎不妄为，却可以平安地存活下来。这两种情况，结果是有利或者有害。上天为什么要厌恶前者？谁知道其中的缘故？这个问题圣人也难以回答。自然的规律是，不与物争、不与人争，然而却更精通如何取胜；无需言语却善于做出反应；不用召唤却会自动到来；看上去像一张网张开但其中却有谋略。天网宽广无边，尽管网眼稀疏，实际上却不会遗漏任何东西。

————————————————————

[1] 恶：讨厌、厌恶。

[2] ：宽缓。

[3] 恢：广大。

[4] 疏：稀疏、不密。失：漏失、遗失。

七十四章

民不畏死，奈何以死惧之[1]？若使民常畏死，而为奇者[2]，吾得执而杀之，孰敢[3]？常有司杀者杀[4]，夫代司杀者杀，是谓代大匠斫[5]。夫代大匠斫者，希有不伤其手者矣[6]。

译文：人民不畏惧死，那为什么要用死来吓唬他们呢？假如说人民真的都畏惧死，我们可以把少数邪恶之人抓来处死，谁还敢再为非作歹？天地间有专管生杀权的，只有它可以行使杀人的任务，但谁如果代替了这个决杀权去杀人，就如同不懂木匠活的人却来代替高明的木匠去砍木头。凡是代替高明的木匠去砍木头的人，很少有不砍伤自己的手的。

————————————————————

[1] 惧：吓唬、惧怕。

[2] 奇：邪恶、诡异。

[3] 孰：谁。

[4] 司杀者：指天主生杀。

[5] 斫：砍。

[6] 希：少。

七十五章

民之饥，以其上食税之多[1]，是以饥。民之难治，以其上之有为[2]，是以难治。民之轻死[3]，以其上求生之厚[4]，是以轻死。夫唯无以生为者[5]，是贤于贵生[6]。

译文：人民之所以遭受饥荒，是因为统治者吃的捐税太多，所以人民才陷于饥饿。人民之所以难以治理，是因为统治者实行有为之治，所以人民就不听话难以治理。人民之所以把死看得那么轻，是因为统治者贪得无厌，只去满足自己奢侈的生活，而不顾及人民的死活，所以人民觉得死了也不算什么。那些恬淡虚静的人，要比以自我生命为贵的人高明。

————————————————————

[1] 上：统治者、君王。食税：指统治者以税收自养，如同取食物以自养一样。

[2] 有为：有为之治。

[3] 轻：看轻、不重视。

[4] 以其上求生之厚：统治者奉养奢厚。

[5] 无以生为者：恬淡虚静，不贵生。

[6] 贤：胜过、胜于。贵生：厚养生命。

七十六章

人之生也柔弱[1]，其死也坚强[2]。草木之生也柔脆[3]，其死也枯槁[4]。故坚强者死之徒，柔弱者生之徒[5]。是以兵强则灭，木强则折。坚强处下，柔弱处上。

译文：人活着的时候身体是柔软的，死了以后身体就变得僵硬了。草木生长时是柔软脆弱的，死了以后就变得干枯了。所以凡是坚强的东西都是要死亡的，凡是柔弱的东西都是有生命的。因此，用兵逞强就会遭到灭亡，树木强大了就会遭到砍伐摧折。凡是强大的，总是处于下位，凡是柔弱的，反而居于上位。

————————————————————

[1] 柔弱：指人体的柔弱。

[2] 坚强：指人体的僵硬。

[3] 柔脆：指草木枝条的柔软脆弱。

[4] 枯槁：指草木死后变得干枯。

[5] 徒：类。

七十七章

天之道[1]，其犹张弓与[2]？高者抑之，下者举之。有余者损之，不足者补之。天之道，损有余而补不足。人之道则不然[3]，损不足以奉有余。孰能有余以奉天下[4]？唯有道者。是以圣人为而不恃，功成而不处[5]，其不欲见贤[6]。

译文：自然的规律，不是很像张弓射箭吗？弓对准目标射，太高了就往下压一点，太低了就拉高一点，超出了就少拉满一点，不够远就多拉紧一点。自然的规律，是减少有余的补给不足的。可是人类社会的法则却不是这样，贫困不足的人民却还要拿出财物奉供侈奢有余的权贵。那么，谁能把自己有余的东西供献给天下的人呢？唯有得道之人。因此，圣人慷慨赐予万物一切，而不以此为自己的功绩。他是不愿意显示自己的贤能。

————————————————————

[1] 天之道：自然界的规律。

[2] 张：用弓箭将弦加载弓上称为“张”。与：语气词。

[3] 人之道：社会中的规律。

[4] 孰：谁。

[5] 处：居。

[6] 见：现；指表现。

七十八章

天下莫柔弱于水，而攻坚强者莫之能胜[1]，以其无以易之[2]。弱之胜强，柔之胜刚，天下莫不知，莫能行。是以圣人云：受国之垢[3]，是谓社稷主；受国不祥[4]，是为天下王。正言若反。

译文：天下万物没有比水更柔弱的了，然而攻克坚强却没有什么东西能比得过水，因为没有什么东西能够代替水的地位。弱小的可以战胜强大的，柔弱的可以战胜刚强的；天下没有人不知道这个道理，但是却没有人能够做得到。所以圣人说：“能够承受全国的屈辱，才称得上是国家的君主；能够承担全国的灾难，才称得上是天下人的君王。”正面的话才是真话，可是往往做不到，就像是在说反话。

————————————————————

[1] 之：水。莫之能胜：莫能胜之。

[2] 易：代替。

[3] 受：承担、承受。垢：屈辱。

[4] 不祥：灾难、祸殃。

七十九章

和大怨，必有余怨，安可以为善？是以圣人执左契，而不责于人[1]。有德司契[2]，无德司彻[3]。天道无亲[4]，常与善人[5]。

译文：深重的怨恨和解以后，必然还会留有余怨；怎么样才是最妥善的办法呢？因此，要像圣人那样，只把握住大原则，不必苛责别人。有德的人就像圣人那样只把握住大原则，没有德的人处处设置规则。自然的规律对任何人都没有偏爱，永远帮助有德的善人。

————————————————————

[1] 执：持有、保存、掌握。契：契据。古人刻木为契，分左右两半，左契是财产所有权的凭证，右契是财产使用权的凭证；这里的“左契”是指大的原则。责：责备、追究。

[2] 司：主。

[3] 彻：治的意思，指管理。

[4] 无亲：无所偏爱，没有亲疏之别。

[5] 与：助。

八十章

小国寡民[1]。使有什伯之器而不用[2]；使民重死而不远徙[3]。虽有舟舆，无所乘之[4]；虽有甲兵，无所陈之[5]。使民复结绳而用之[6]。甘其食，美其服，安其居，乐其俗。邻国相望，鸡犬之声相闻[7]，民至老死不相往来。

译文：地方自治、人民自由民主、天下太平。即使拥有各种各样的器具也不使用；人民尊重生命而不向远方迁徙。尽管拥有船只车辆却不乘坐；虽然有武器装备，却没有必要去布阵打仗。使人民再回复到远古结绳记事的早期原始状态之中。人民拥有自认为最甜美的食品，最美观的服装，最安适的居所，最欢乐自在的社会风俗。邻国之间可以互相望见，鸡犬的叫声都可以听得见，但人民从生到死，也不互相往来。

————————————————————

[1] 国：地区。

[2] 什伯之器：各种器具。

[3] 重死：重视生命。徙：迁移。

[4] 舟：船。舆：通“车”。

[5] 陈：即“阵”，指陈列、阵势。

[6] 结绳：古代文字没有形成前的结绳记事，最初只用绳结来记物的数量，后来也表示物的性质。

[7] 犬：狗。

八十一章

信言不美，美言不信[1]。善者不辩，辩者不善[2]。知者不博，博者不知[3]。圣人不积[4]，既以为人己愈有[5]，既以与人己愈多[6]。天之道，利而不害。圣人之道，为而不争[7]。

译文：真实可信的话不漂亮，漂亮的话不真实可信。善良的人不太会说话，能说会道的人不善良。具有真知灼见的人不博学于外，博学于外的人不会有真知灼见。圣人不积聚财物，他尽力去帮助别人，自己反而拥有更多，尽力去奉献给别人，自己反而更为富有。自然的规律是让万事万物都得到好处，而不伤害万物。圣人的行为准则是，做什么事都尽力给予而不与人与物相争。

————————————————————

[1] 信：真诚、诚实。信言：真话。美：华丽、华美。美言：漂亮的话。

[2] 善者：善良的人。辩：指能说会道。

[3] 博：显示知道的事情多。

[4] 积：积累、贮存、私藏。

[5] 既：尽。为人：帮助人。

[6] 与：给予、给与。

[7] 为：施为。

Lao Tzu

Tao Te Ching

TRANSLATED BY D. C. LAU

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

Book One

I

The way that can be spoken of

Is not the constant way;

The name that can be named

Is not the constant name.

The nameless was the beginning of heaven and earth;

The named was the mother of the myriad creatures.

Hence always rid yourself of desires in order to observe its secrets;

But always allow yourself to have desires in order to observe its manifestations.

These two are the same

But diverge in name as they issue forth.

Being the same they are called mysteries,

Mystery upon mystery —

The gateway of the manifold secrets.

II

The whole world recognizes the beautiful as the beauti-ful, yet this is only the ugly; the whole world recognizes the good as the good, yet this is only the bad.

Thus Something and Nothing produce each other;

The difficult and the easy complement each other;

The long and the short offset each other;

The high and the low incline towards each other;

Note and sound harmonize with each other;

Before and after follow each other.

Therefore the sage keeps to the deed that consists in taking no action and practises the teaching that uses no words.

The myriad creatures rise from it yet it claims no authority;

It gives them life yet claims no possession;

It benefits them yet exacts no gratitude;

It accomplishes its task yet lays claim to no merit.

It is because it lays claim to no merit

That its merit never deserts it.

III

Not to honour men of worth will keep the people from contention; not to value goods which are hard to come by will keep them from theft; not to display what is desirable will keep them from being unsettled of mind. Therefore in governing the people, the sage empties their minds but fills their bellies, weakens their wills but strengthens their bones. He always keeps them innocent of knowledge and free from desire, and ensures that the clever never dare to act.

Do that which consists in taking no action, and order will prevail.

IV

The way is empty, yet use will not drain it.

Deep, it is like the ancestor of the myriad creatures.

Blunt the sharpness;

Untangle the knots;

Soften the glare;

Let your wheels move only along old ruts.

Darkly visible, it only seems as if it were there.

I know not whose son it is.

It images the forefather of God.

V

Heaven and earth are ruthless, and treat the myriad creatures as straw dogs; the sage is ruthless, and treats the people as straw dogs.

Is not the space between heaven and earth like a bellows?

It is empty without being exhausted:

The more it works the more comes out.

Much speech leads inevitably to silence.

Better to hold fast to the void.

VI

The spirit of the valley never dies.

This is called the mysterious female.

The gateway of the mysterious female

Is called the root of heaven and earth.

Dimly visible, it seems as if it were there,

Yet use will never drain it.

VII

Heaven and earth are enduring. The reason why heaven and earth can be enduring is that they do not give themselves life. Hence they are able to be long-lived.

Therefore the sage puts his person last and it comes first,

Treats it as extraneous to himself and it is preserved.

Is it not because he is without thought of self that he is able to accomplish his private ends?

VIII

Highest good is like water. Because water excels in benefiting the myriad creatures without contending with them and settles where none would like to be, it comes close to the way.

In a home it is the site that matters;

In quality of mind it is depth that matters;

In an ally it is benevolence that matters;

In speech it is good faith that matters;

In government it is order that matters;

In affairs it is ability that matters;

In action it is timeliness that matters.

It is because it does not contend that it is never at fault.

IX

Rather than fill it to the brim by keeping it upright

Better to have stopped in time;

Hammer it to a point

And the sharpness cannot be preserved for ever;

There may be gold and jade to fill a hall

But there is none who can keep them.

To be overbearing when one has wealth and position

Is to bring calamity upon oneself.

To retire when the task is accomplished

Is the way of heaven.

X

When carrying on your head your perplexed bodily soul can you embrace in your arms the One

And not let go?

In concentrating your breath can you become as supple As a babe?

Can you polish your mysterious mirror

And leave no blemish?

Can you love the people and govern the state

Without resorting to action?

When the gates of heaven open and shut

Are you capable of keeping to the role of the female?

When your discernment penetrates the four quarters

Are you capable of not knowing anything?

It gives them life and rears them.

It gives them life yet claims no possession;

It benefits them yet exacts no gratitude;

It is the steward yet exercises no authority.

Such is called the mysterious virtue.

XI

Thirty spokes

Share one hub.

Adapt the nothing therein to the purpose in hand, and you will have the use of the cart. Knead clay in order to make a vessel. Adapt the nothing therein to the purpose in hand, and you will have the use of the vessel. Cut out doors and windows in order to make a room. Adapt the nothing therein to the purpose in hand, and you will have the use of the room.

Thus what we gain is Something, yet it is by virtue of

Nothing that this can be put to use.

XII

The five colours make man's eyes blind;

The five notes make his ears deaf;

The five tastes injure his palate;

Riding and hunting

Make his mind go wild with excitement;

Goods hard to come by

Serve to hinder his progress.

Hence the sage is

For the belly

Not for the eye.

Therefore he discards the one and takes the other.

XIII

Favour and disgrace are things that startle;

High rank is, like one's body, a source of great trouble.

What is meant by saying that favour and disgrace are things that startle? Favour when it is bestowed on a subject serves to startle as much as when it is withdrawn. This is what is meant by saying that favour and disgrace are things that startle. What is meant by saying that high rank is, like one's body, a source of great trouble? The reason I have great trouble is that I have a body. When I no longer have a body, what trouble have I?

Hence he who values his body more than dominion over the empire can be entrusted with the empire. He who loves his body more than dominion over the empire can be given the custody of the empire.

XIV

What cannot be seen is called evanescent;

What cannot be heard is called rarefied;

What cannot be touched is called minute.

These three cannot be fathomed

And so they are confused and looked upon as one.

Its upper part is not dazzling;

Its lower part is not obscure.

Dimly visible, it cannot be named

And returns to that which is without substance.

This is called the shape that has no shape,

The image that is without substance.

This is called indistinct and shadowy.

Go up to it and you will not see its head;

Follow behind it and you will not see its rear.

Hold fast to the way of antiquity

In order to keep in control the realm of today.

The ability to know the beginning of antiquity

Is called the thread running through the way.

XV

Of old he who was well versed in the way

Was minutely subtle, mysteriously comprehending,

And too profound to be known.

It is because he could not be known

That he can only be given a makeshift description:

Tentative, as if fording a river in winter,

Hesitant, as if in fear of his neighbours;

Formal like a guest;

Falling apart like thawing ice;

Thick like the uncarved block;

Vacant like a valley;

Murky like muddy water.

Who can be muddy and yet, settling, slowly become limpid?

Who can be at rest and yet, stirring, slowly come to life?

He who holds fast to this way

Desires not to be full.

It is because he is not full

That he can be worn and yet newly made.

XVI

I do my utmost to attain emptiness;

I hold firmly to stillness.

The myriad creatures all rise together

And I watch their return.

The teeming creatures

All return to their separate roots.

Returning to one's roots is known as stillness.

This is what is meant by returning to one's destiny.

Returning to one's destiny is known as the constant.

Knowledge of the constant is known as discernment.

Woe to him who wilfully innovates

While ignorant of the constant,

But should one act from knowledge of the constant

One's action will lead to impartiality,

Impartiality to kingliness,

Kingliness to heaven,

Heaven to the way,

The way to perpetuity,

And to the end of one's days one will meet with no danger.

XVII

The best of all rulers is but a shadowy presence to his subjects.

Next comes the ruler they love and praise;

Next comes one they fear;

Next comes one with whom they take liberties.

When there is not enough faith, there is lack of good faith.

Hesitant, he does not utter words lightly.

When his task is accomplished and his work done

The people all say, 'It happened to us naturally.'

XVIII

When the great way falls into disuse

There are benevolence and rectitude;

When cleverness emerges

There is great hypocrisy;

When the six relations are at variance

There are filial children;

When the state is benighted

There are loyal ministers.

XIX

Exterminate the sage, discard the wise,

And the people will benefit a hundredfold;

Exterminate benevolence, discard rectitude,

And the people will again be filial;

Exterminate ingenuity, discard profit,

And there will be no more thieves and bandits.

These three, being false adornments, are not enough

And the people must have something to which they can attach themselves:

Exhibit the unadorned and embrace the uncarved block,

Have little thought of self and as few desires as possible.

XX

Exterminate learning and there will no longer be worries.

Between yea and nay

How much difference is there?

Between good and evil

How great is the distance?

What others fear

One must also fear.

And wax without having reached the limit.

The multitude are joyous

As if partaking of the t'ai lao offering

Or going up to a terrace in spring.

I alone am inactive and reveal no signs,

Like a baby that has not yet learned to smile,

Listless as though with no home to go back to.

The multitude all have more than enough.

I alone seem to be in want.

My mind is that of a fool - how blank!

Vulgar people are clear.

I alone am drowsy.

Vulgar people are alert.

I alone am muddled.

Calm like the sea;

Like a high wind that never ceases.

The multitude all have a purpose.

I alone am foolish and uncouth.

I alone am different from others

And value being fed by the mother.

XXI

In his every movement a man of great virtue

Follows the way and the way only.

As a thing the way is

Shadowy, indistinct.

Indistinct and shadowy,

Yet within it is an image;

Shadowy and indistinct,

Yet within it is a substance.

Dim and dark,

Yet within it is an essence.

This essence is quite genuine

And within it is something that can be tested.

From the present back to antiquity

Its name never deserted it.

It serves as a means for inspecting the fathers of the multitude.

How do I know that the fathers of the multitude are like that? By means of this.

XXII

Bowed down then preserved;

Bent then straight;

Hollow then full;

Worn then new;

A little then benefited;

A lot then perplexed.

Therefore the sage embraces the One and is a model for the empire.

He does not show himself, and so is conspicuous;

He does not consider himself right, and so is illustrious;

He does not brag, and so has merit;

He does not boast, and so endures.

It is because he does not contend that no one in the empire is in a position to contend with him.

The way the ancients had it, 'Bowed down then pre—served', is no empty saying. Truly it enables one to be preserved to the end.

XXIII

To use words but rarely

Is to be natural.

Hence a gusty wind cannot last all morning, and a sudden downpour cannot last all day. Who is it that produces these? Heaven and earth. If even heaven and earth cannot go on for ever, much less can man. That is why one follows the way.

A man of the way conforms to the way; a man of virtue conforms to virtue; a man of loss conforms to loss. He who conforms to the way is gladly accepted by the way; he who conforms to virtue is gladly accepted by virtue; he who conforms to loss is gladly accepted by loss.

When there is not enough faith, there is lack of good faith.

XXIV

He who tiptoes cannot stand; he who strides cannot walk.

He who shows himself is not conspicuous;

He who considers himself right is not illustrious;

He who brags will have no merit;

He who boasts will not endure.

From the point of view of the way these are 'excessive food and useless excrescences'. As there are Things that detest them, he who has the way does not abide in them.

XXV

There is a thing confusedly formed,

Born before heaven and earth.

Silent and void

It stands alone and does not change,

Goes round and does not weary.

It is capable of being the mother of the world.

I know not its name

So I style it 'the way'.

I give it the makeshift name of 'the great'.

Being great, it is further described as receding,

Receding, it is described as far away,

Being far away, it is described as turning back.

Hence the way is great; heaven is great; earth is great; and the king is also great. Within the realm there are four things that are great, and the king counts as one.

Man models himself on earth,

Earth on heaven,

Heaven on the way,

And the way on that which is naturally so.

XXVI

The heavy is the root of the light;

The still is the lord of the restless.

Therefore the gentleman when travelling all day

Never lets the heavily laden carts out of his sight.

It is only when he is safely behind walls and watchtowers

That he rests peacefully and is above worries.

How, then, should a ruler of ten thousand chariots

Make light of his own person in the eyes of the empire?

If light, then the root is lost;

If restless, then the lord is lost.

XXVII

One who excels in travelling leaves no wheel tracks;

One who excels in speech makes no slips;

One who excels in reckoning uses no counting rods;

One who excels in shutting uses no bolts yet what he has shut cannot be opened;

One who excels in tying uses no cords yet what he has tied cannot be undone.

Therefore the sage always excels in saving people, and so abandons no one; always excels in saving things, and so abandons nothing.

This is called following one's discernment.

Hence the good man is the teacher the bad learns from;

And the bad man is the material the good works on.

Not to value the teacher

Nor to love the material

Though it seems clever, betrays great bewilderment.

This is called the essential and the secret.

XXVIII

Know the male

But keep to the role of the female

And be a ravine to the empire.

If you are a ravine to the empire,

Then the constant virtue will not desert you

And you will again return to being a babe.

Know the white

But keep to the role of the black

And be a model to the empire.

If you are a model to the empire,

Then the constant virtue will not be wanting

And you will return to the infinite.

Know honour

But keep to the role of the disgraced

And be a valley to the empire.

If you are a valley to the empire,

Then the constant virtue will be sufficient

And you will return to being the uncarved block.

When the uncarved block shatters it becomes vessels.

The sage makes use of these and becomes the lord over the officials.

Hence the greatest cutting

Does not sever.

XXIX

Whoever takes the empire and wishes to do anything to it I see will have no respite. The empire is a sacred vessel and nothing should be done to it. Whoever does anything to it will ruin it; whoever lays hold of it will lose it.

Hence some things lead and some follow;

Some breathe gently and some breathe hard;

Some are strong and some are weak;

Some destroy and some are destroyed.

Therefore the sage avoids excess, extravagance, and arrogance.

XXX

One who assists the ruler of men by means of the way does not intimidate the empire by a show of arms.

This is something which is liable to rebound.

Where troops have encamped

There will brambles grow;

In the wake of a mighty army

Bad harvests follow without fail.

One who is good aims only at bringing his campaign to a conclusion and dare not thereby intimidate. Bring it to a conclusion but do not boast; bring it to a conclusion but do not brag; bring it to a conclusion but do not be arrogant; bring it to a conclusion but only when there is no choice; bring it to a conclusion but do not intimidate.

A creature in its prime doing harm to the old

Is known as going against the way.

That which goes against the way will come to an early end.

XXXI

It is because arms are instruments of ill omen and there are Things that detest them that one who has the way does not abide by their use. The gentleman gives pre-cedence to the left when at home, but to the right when he goes to war. Arms are instruments of ill omen, not the instruments of the gentleman. When one is compelled to use them, it is best to do so without relish. There is no glory in victory, and to glorify it despite this is to exult in the killing of men. One who exults in the killing of men will never have his way in the empire. On occasions of rejoicing precedence is given to the left; on occasions of mourning precedence is given to the right. A lieuten-ant's place is on the left; the general's place is on the right. This means that it is mourning rites that are observed. When great numbers of people are killed, one should weep over them with sorrow. When victorious in war, one should observe the rites of mourning.

XXXII

The way is for ever nameless.

Though the uncarved block is small

No one in the world dare claim its allegiance.

Should lords and princes be able to hold fast to it

The myriad creatures will submit of their own accord,

Heaven and earth will unite and sweet dew will fall.

And the people will be equitable, though no one so decrees.

Only when it is cut are there names.

As soon as there are names

One ought to know that it is time to stop.

Knowing when to stop one can be free from danger.

The way is to the world as the River and the Sea are to rivulets and streams.

XXXIII

He who knows others is clever;

He who knows himself has discernment.

He who overcomes others has force;

He who overcomes himself is strong.

He who knows contentment is rich;

He who perseveres is a man of purpose;

He who does not lose his station will endure;

He who lives out his days has had a long life.

XXXIV

The way is broad, reaching left as well as right.

The myriad creatures depend on it for life yet it claims no authority.

It accomplishes its task yet lays claim to no merit.

It clothes and feeds the myriad creatures yet lays no claim to being their master.

For ever free of desire, it can be called small; yet, as it lays no claim to being master when the myriad creatures turn to it, it can be called great.

It is because it never attempts itself to be great that it succeeds in becoming great.

XXXV

Have in your hold the great image

And the empire will come to you.

Coming to you and meeting with no harm

It will be safe and sound.

Music and food

Will induce the wayfarer to stop.

The way in its passage through the mouth is without flavour.

It cannot be seen,

It cannot be heard,

Yet it cannot be exhausted by use.

XXXVI

If you would have a thing shrink,

You must first stretch it;

If you would have a thing weakened,

You must first strengthen it;

If you would have a thing laid aside,

You must first set it up;

If you would take from a thing,

You must first give to it.

This is called subtle discernment:

The submissive and weak will overcome the hard and strong.

The fish must not be allowed to leave the deep;

The instruments of power in a state must not be revealed to anyone.

XXXVII

The way never acts yet nothing is left undone.

Should lords and princes be able to hold fast to it,

The myriad creatures will be transformed of their own accord.

After they are transformed, should desire raise its head,

I shall press it down with the weight of the nameless uncarved block.

The nameless uncarved block

Is but freedom from desire,

And if I cease to desire and remain still,

The empire will be at peace of its own accord.

Book Two

XXXVIII

A man of the highest virtue does not keep to virtue and that is why he has virtue. A man of the lowest virtue never strays from virtue and that is why he is without virtue. The former never acts yet leaves nothing undone. The latter acts but there are things left undone. A man of the highest benevolence acts, but from no ulterior motive. A man of the highest rectitude acts, but from ulterior motive. A man most conversant in the rites acts, but when no one responds rolls up his sleeves and resorts to persuasion by force.

Hence when the way was lost there was virtue; when virtue was lost there was benevolence; when benevolence was lost there was rectitude; when rectitude was lost there were the rites.

The rites are the wearing thin of loyalty and good faith

And the beginning of disorder;

Foreknowledge is the flowery embellishment of the way

And the beginning of folly.

Hence the man of large mind abides in the thick not in the thin, in the fruit not in the flower.

Therefore he discards the one and takes the other.

XXXIX

Of old, these came to be in possession of the One:

Heaven in virtue of the One is limpid;

Earth in virtue of the One is settled;

Gods in virtue of the One have their potencies;

The valley in virtue of the One is full;

The myriad creatures in virtue of the One are alive;

Lords and princes in virtue of the One become leaders in the empire.

It is the One that makes these what they are.

Without what makes it limpid heaven might split;

Without what makes it settled earth might sink;

Without what gives them their potencies gods might spend themselves;

Without what makes it full the valley might run dry;

Without what keeps them alive the myriad creatures might perish;

Without what makes them leaders lords and princes might fall.

Hence the superior must have the inferior as root; the high must have the low as base.

Thus lords and princes refer to themselves as 'solitary', 'desolate', and 'hapless'. This is taking the inferior as root, is it not?

Hence the highest renown is without renown,

Not wishing to be one among many like jade

Nor to be aloof like stone.

XL

Turning back is how the way moves;

Weakness is the means the way employs.

The myriad creatures in the world are born from Something, and Something from Nothing.

XLI

When the best student hears about the way

He practises it assiduously;

When the average student hears about the way

It seems to him one moment there and gone the next;

When the worst student hears about the way

He laughs out loud.

If he did not laugh

It would be unworthy of being the way.

Hence the Chien yen has it:

The way that is bright seems dull;

The way that leads forward seems to lead backward;

The way that is even seems rough.

The highest virtue is like the valley;

The sheerest whiteness seems sullied;

Ample virtue seems defective;

Vigorous virtue seems indolent;

Plain virtue seems soiled;

The great square has no corners.

The great vessel takes long to complete;

The great note is rarefied in sound;

The great image has no shape.

The way conceals itself in being nameless.

It is the way alone that excels in bestowing and in accomplishing.

XLII

The way begets one; one begets two; two begets three; three begets the myriad creatures.

The myriad creatures carry on their backs the yin and embrace in their arms the yang and are the blending of the generative forces of the two.

There are no words which men detest more than 'soli—tary', 'desolate', and 'hapless', yet lords and princes use these to refer to themselves.

Thus a thing is sometimes added to by being diminished and diminished by being added to.

What others teach I also teach. 'The violent will not come to a natural end.' I shall take this as my precept.

XLIII

The most submissive thing in the world can ride roughshod over the hardest in the world - that which is without substance entering that which has no crevices.

That is why I know the benefit of resorting to no action.

The teaching that uses no words, the benefit of resorting to no action, these are beyond the understanding of all but a very few in the world.

XLIV

Your name or your person,

Which is dearer?

Your person or your goods,

Which is worth more?

Gain or loss,

Which is a greater bane?

That is why excessive meanness

Is sure to lead to great expense;

Too much store

Is sure to end in immense loss.

Know contentment

And you will suffer no disgrace;

Know when to stop

And you will meet with no danger.

You can then endure.

XLV

Great perfection seems chipped,

Yet use will not wear it out;

Great fullness seems empty,

Yet use will not drain it;

Great straightness seems bent;

Great skill seems awkward;

Great eloquence seems tongue-tied.

Restlessness overcomes cold; stillness overcomes heat.

Limpid and still,

One can be a leader in the empire.

XLVI

When the way prevails in the empire, fleet-footed horses are relegated to ploughing the fields; when the way does not prevail in the empire, war-horses breed on the border.

There is no crime greater than having too many desires;

There is no disaster greater than not being content;

There is no misfortune greater than being covetous.

Hence in being content, one will always have enough.

XLVII

Without stirring abroad

One can know the whole world;

Without looking out of the window

One can see the way of heaven.

The further one goes

The less one knows.

Therefore the sage knows without having to stir,

Identifies without having to see,

Accomplishes without having to act.

XLVIII

In the pursuit of learning one knows more every day; in the pursuit of the way one does less every day. One does less and less until one does nothing at all, and when one does nothing at all there is nothing that is undone.

It is always through not meddling that the empire is won. Should you meddle, then you are not equal to the task of winning the empire.

XLIX

The sage has no mind of his own. He takes as his own the mind of the people.

Those who are good I treat as good. Those who are not good I also treat as good. In so doing I gain in goodness.Those who are of good faith I have faith in. Those who are lacking in good faith I also have faith in. In so doing I gain in good faith.

The sage in his attempt to distract the mind of the empire seeks urgently to muddle it. The people all have something to occupy their eyes and ears, and the sage treats them all like children.

L

When going one way means life and going the other means death, three in ten will be comrades of life, three in ten will be comrades of death, and there are those who value life and as a result move into the realm of death, and these also number three in ten. Why is this so? Because they set too much store by life. I have heard it said that one who excels in safeguarding his own life does not meet with rhinoceros or tiger when travelling on land nor is he touched by weapons when charging into an army. There is nowhere for the rhinoceros to pitch its horn; there is nowhere for the tiger to place its claws; there is nowhere for the weapon to lodge its blade. Why is this so? Because for him there is no realm of death.

LI

The way gives them life;

Virtue rears them;

Things give them shape;

Circumstances bring them to maturity.

Therefore the myriad creatures all revere the way and honour virtue. Yet the way is revered and virtue honoured not because this is decreed by any authority but because it is natural for them to be treated so.

Thus the way gives them life and rears them;

Brings them up and nurses them;

Brings them to fruition and maturity;

Feeds and shelters them.

It gives them life yet claims no possession;

It benefits them yet exacts no gratitude;

It is the steward yet exercises no authority.

Such is called the mysterious virtue.

LII

The world had a beginning

And this beginning could be the mother of the world.

When you know the mother

Go on to know the child.

After you have known the child

Go back to holding fast to the mother,

And to the end of your days you will not meet with danger.

Block the openings,

Shut the doors,

And all your life you will not run dry.

Unblock the openings,

Add to your troubles,

And to the end of your days you will be beyond salvation.

To see the small is called discernment;

To hold fast to the submissive is called strength.

Use the light

But give up the discernment.

Bring not misfortune upon yourself.

This is known as following the constant.

LIII

Were I possessed of the least knowledge, I would, when walking on the great way, fear only paths that lead astray.

The great way is easy, yet people prefer by-paths.

The court is corrupt,

The fields are overgrown with weeds,

The granaries are empty;

Yet there are those dressed in fineries,

With swords at their sides,

Filled with food and drink,

And possessed of too much wealth.

This is known as taking the lead in robbery.

Far indeed is this from the way.

LIV

What is firmly rooted cannot be pulled out;

What is tightly held in the arms will not slip loose;

Through this the offering of sacrifice by descendants will never come to an end.

Cultivate it in your person

And its virtue will be genuine;

Cultivate it in the family

And its virtue will be more than sufficient;

Cultivate it in the hamlet

And its virtue will endure;

Cultivate it in the state

And its virtue will abound;

Cultivate it in the empire

And its virtue will be pervasive.

Hence look at the person through the person; look at the family through the family; look at the hamlet through the hamlet; look at the state through the state; look at the empire through the empire.

How do I know that the empire is like that? By means of this.

LV

One who possesses virtue in abundance is comparable to a new born babe:

Poisonous insects will not sting it;

Ferocious animals will not pounce on it;

Predatory birds will not swoop down on it.

Its bones are weak and its sinews supple yet its hold is firm.

It does not know of the union of male and female yet its male member will stir:

This is because its virility is at its height.

It howls all day yet does not become hoarse:

This is because its harmony is at its height.

To know harmony is called the constant;

To know the constant is called discernment.

To try to add to one's vitality is called ill-omened;

For the mind to egg on the breath is called violent.

A creature in its prime doing harm to the old

Is known as going against the way.

That which goes against the way will come to an early end.

LVI

One who knows does not speak; one who speaks does not know.

Block the openings;

Shut the doors.

Blunt the sharpness;

Untangle the knots;

Soften the glare;

Let your wheels move only along old ruts.

This is known as mysterious sameness.

Hence you cannot get close to it, nor can you keep it at arm's length; you cannot bestow benefit on it, nor can you do it harm; you cannot ennoble it, nor can you debase it.

Therefore it is valued by the empire.

LVII

Govern the state by being straightforward; wage war by being crafty; but win the empire by not being meddlesome.

How do I know that it is like that? By means of this.

The more taboos there are in the empire

The poorer the people;

The more sharpened tools the people have

The more benighted the state;

The more skills the people have

The further novelties multiply;

The better known the laws and edicts

The more thieves and robbers there are.

Hence the sage says,

I take no action and the people are transformed of themselves;

I prefer stillness and the people are rectified of themselves;

I am not meddlesome and the people prosper of themselves;

I am free from desire and the people of themselves become simple like the uncarved block.

LVIII

When the government is muddled

The people are simple;

When the government is alert

The people are cunning.

It is on disaster that good fortune perches;

It is beneath good fortune that disaster crouches.

Who knows the limit? Does not the straightforward exist?

The straightforward changes again into the crafty, and the good changes again into the monstrous. Indeed, it is long since the people were perplexed.

Therefore the sage is square-edged but does not scrape,

Has corners but does not jab,

Extends himself but not at the expense of others,

Shines but does not dazzle.

LIX

In ruling the people and in serving heaven it is best for a ruler to be sparing.

It is because he is sparing

That he may be said to follow the way from the start;

Following the way from the start he may be said to accumulate an abundance of virtue;

Accumulating an abundance of virtue there is nothing he cannot overcome;

When there is nothing he cannot overcome, no one knows his limit;

When no one knows his limit

He can possess a state;

When he possesses the mother of a state

He can then endure.

This is called the way of deep roots and firm stems by which one lives to see many days.

LX

Governing a large state is like boiling a small fish.

When the empire is ruled in accordance with the way,

The spirits lose their potencies.

Or rather, it is not that they lose their potencies,

But that, though they have their potencies, they do not harm the people.

It is not only they who, having their potencies, do not harm the people,

The sage, also, does not harm the people.

As neither does any harm, each attributes the merit to the other.

LXI

A large state is the lower reaches of a river -

The place where all the streams of the world unite.

In the union of the world,

The female always gets the better of the male by stillness.

Being still, she takes the lower position.

Hence the large state, by taking the lower position, annexes the small state;

The small state, by taking the lower position, affiliates itself to the large state.

Thus the one, by taking the lower position, annexes;

The other, by taking the lower position, is annexed.

All that the large state wants is to take the other under its wing;

All that the small state wants is to have its services accepted by the other.

If each of the two wants to find its proper place,

It is meet that the large should take the lower position.

LXII

The way is the refuge for the myriad creatures.

It is that by which the good man protects,

And that by which the bad is protected.

Beautiful words when offered will win high rank in return;

Beautiful deeds can raise a man above others.

Even if a man is not good, why should he be abandoned? Hence when the emperor is set up and the three ducal ministers are appointed, he who makes a present of the way without stirring from his seat is preferable to one who offers presents of jade disks followed by a team of four horses. Why was this way valued of old? Was it not said that by means of it one got what one wanted and escaped the consequences when one transgressed?

Therefore it is valued by the empire.

LXIII

Do that which consists in taking no action; pursue that which is not meddlesome; savour that which has no flavour.

Make the small big and the few many; do good to him who has done you an injury.

Lay plans for the accomplishment of the difficult before it becomes difficult; make something big by starting with it when small.

Difficult things in the world must needs have their beginnings in the easy; big things must needs have their beginnings in the small.

Therefore it is because the sage never attempts to be great that he succeeds in becoming great.

One who makes promises rashly rarely keeps good faith; one who is in the habit of considering things easy meets with frequent difficulties.

Therefore even the sage treats some things as difficult.

That is why in the end no difficulties can get the better of him.

LXIV

It is easy to maintain a situation while it is still secure;

It is easy to deal with a situation before symptoms develop;

It is easy to break a thing when it is yet brittle;

It is easy to dissolve a thing when it is yet minute.

Deal with a thing while it is still nothing;

Keep a thing in order before disorder sets in.

A tree that can fill the span of a man's arms

Grows from a downy tip;

A terrace nine storeys high

Rises from hodfuls of earth;

A journey of a thousand miles

Starts from beneath one's feet.

Whoever does anything to it will ruin it; whoever lays hold of it will lose it.

Therefore the sage, because he does nothing, never ruins anything; and, because he does not lay hold of anything, loses nothing.

In their enterprises the people

Always ruin them when on the verge of success.

Be as careful at the end as at the beginning

And there will be no ruined enterprises.

Therefore the sage desires not to desire

And does not value goods which are hard to come by;

Learns to be without learning

And makes good the mistakes of the multitude

In order to help the myriad creatures to be natural and to refrain from daring to act.

LXV

Of old those who excelled in the pursuit of the way did not use it to enlighten the people but to hoodwink them. The reason why the people are difficult to govern is that they are too clever.

Hence to rule a state by cleverness

Will be to the detriment of the state;

Not to rule a state by cleverness

Will be a boon to the state.

These two are models.

Always to know the models

Is known as mysterious virtue.

Mysterious virtue is profound and far-reaching,

But when things turn back it turns back with them.

Only then is complete conformity realized.

LXVI

The reason why the River and the Sea are able to be king of the hundred valleys is that they excel in taking the lower position. Hence they are able to be king of the hundred valleys.

Therefore, desiring to rule over the people,

One must in one's words humble oneself before them;

And, desiring to lead the people,

One must, in one's person, follow behind them.

Therefore the sage takes his place over the people yet is no burden; takes his place ahead of the people yet causes no obstruction. That is why the empire supports him joyfully and never tires of doing so.

It is because he does not contend that no one in the empire is in a position to contend with him.

LXVII

The whole world says that my way is vast and resembles nothing. It is because it is vast that it resembles nothing. If it resembled anything, it would, long before now, have become small.

I have three treasures

Which I hold and cherish.

The first is known as compassion,

The second is known as frugality,

The third is known as not daring to take the lead in the empire;

Being compassionate one could afford to be courageous,

Being frugal one could afford to extend one's territory,

Not daring to take the lead in the empire one could afford to be lord over the vessels.

Now, to forsake compassion for courage, to forsake frugality for expansion, to forsake the rear for the lead, is sure to end in death.

Through compassion, one will triumph in attack and be impregnable in defence. What heaven succours it protects with the gift of compassion.

LXVIII

One who excels as a warrior does not appear formidable;

One who excels in fighting is never roused in anger;

One who excels in defeating his enemy does not join issue;

One who excels in employing others humbles himself before them.

This is known as the virtue of non-contention;

This is known as making use of the efforts of others;

This is known as matching the sublimity of heaven.

LXIX

The strategists have a saying,

I dare not play the host but play the guest,

I dare not advance an inch but retreat a foot instead.

This is known as marching forward when there is no road,

Rolling up one's sleeves when there is no arm,

Dragging one's adversary by force when there is no adversary,

And taking up arms when there are no arms.

There is no disaster greater than taking on an enemy too easily. So doing nearly cost me my treasure. Thus of two sides raising arms against each other, it is the one that is sorrow-stricken that wins.

LXX

My words are very easy to understand and very easy to put into practice, yet no one in the world can understand them or put them into practice.

Words have an ancestor and affairs have a sovereign.

It is because people are ignorant that they fail to understand me.

Those who understand me are few;

Those who imitate me are honoured.

Therefore the sage, while clad in homespun, conceals on his person a priceless piece of jade.

LXXI

To know yet to think that one does not know is best;

Not to know yet to think that one knows will lead to difficulty.

It is by being alive to difficulty that one can avoid it. The sage meets with no difficulty. It is because he is alive to it that he meets with no difficulty.

LXXII

When the people lack a proper sense of awe, then some awful visitation will descend upon them.

Do not constrict their living space; do not press down on their means of livelihood. It is because you do not press down on them that they will not weary of the burden.

Hence the sage knows himself but does not display himself, loves himself but does not exalt himself.

Therefore he discards the one and takes the other.

LXXIII

He who is fearless in being bold will meet with his death;

He who is fearless in being timid will stay alive.

Of the two, one leads to good, the other to harm.

Heaven hates what it hates,

Who knows the reason why?

Therefore even the sage treats some things as difficult.

The way of heaven

Excels in overcoming though it does not contend,

In responding though it does not speak,

In attracting though it does not summon,

In laying plans though it appears slack.

The net of heaven is cast wide. Though the mesh is not fine, yet nothing ever slips through.

LXXIV

When the people are not afraid of death, wherefore frighten them with death? Were the people always afraid of death, and were I able to arrest and put to death those who innovate, then who would dare? There is a regular executioner whose charge it is to kill. To kill on behalf of the executioner is what is described as chopping wood on behalf of the master carpenter. In chopping wood on behalf of the master carpenter, there are few who escape hurting their own hands instead.

LXXV

The people are hungry:

It is because those in authority eat up too much in taxes

That the people are hungry.

The people are difficult to govern:

It is because those in authority are too fond of action

That the people are difficult to govern.

The people treat death lightly:

It is because the people set too much store by life

That they treat death lightly.

It is just because one has no use for life that one is wiser than the man who values life.

LXXVI

A man is supple and weak when living, but hard and stiff when dead. Grass and trees are pliant and fragile when living, but dried and shrivelled when dead. Thus the hard and the strong are the comrades of death; the supple and the weak are the comrades of life.

Therefore a weapon that is strong will not vanquish;

A tree that is strong will suffer the axe.

The strong and big takes the lower position,

The supple and weak takes the higher position.

LXXVII

Is not the way of heaven like the stretching of a bow?

The high it presses down,

The low it lifts up;

The excessive it takes from,

The deficient it gives to.

It is the way of heaven to take from what has in excess in order to make good what is deficient. The way of man is otherwise. It takes from those who are in want in order to offer this to those who already have more than enough. Who is there that can take what he himself has in excess and offer this to the empire? Only he who has the way.

Therefore the sage benefits them yet exacts no gratitude,

Accomplishes his task yet lays claim to no merit.

Is this not because he does not wish to be considered a better man than others?

LXXVIII

In the world there is nothing more submissive and weak than water. Yet for attacking that which is hard and strong nothing can surpass it. This is because there is nothing that can take its place.

That the weak overcomes the strong,

And the submissive overcomes the hard,

Everyone in the world knows yet no one can put this knowledge into practice.

Therefore the sage says,

One who takes on himself the humiliation of the state

Is called a ruler worthy of offering sacrifices to the gods of earth and millet;

One who takes on himself the calamity of the state

Is called a king worthy of dominion over the entire empire.

Straightforward words

Seem paradoxical.

LXXIX

When peace is made between great enemies,

Some enmity is bound to remain undispelled.

How can this be considered perfect?

Therefore the sage takes the left-hand tally, but exacts no payment from the people.

The man of virtue takes charge of the tally;

The man of no virtue takes charge of exaction.

It is the way of heaven to show no favouritism.

It is for ever on the side of the good man.

LXXX

Reduce the size and population of the state. Ensure that even though the people have tools of war for a troop or a battalion they will not use them; and also that they will be reluctant to move to distant places because they look on death as no light matter.

Even when they have ships and carts, they will have no use for them; and even when they have armour and weapons, they will have no occasion to make a show of them.

Bring it about that the people will return to the use of the knotted rope,

Will find relish in their food

And beauty in their clothes,

Will be content in their abode

And happy in the way they live.

Though adjoining states are within sight of one another, and the sound of dogs barking and cocks crowing in one state can be heard in another, yet the people of one state will grow old and die without having had any dealings with those of another.

LXXXI

Truthful words are not beautiful; beautiful words are not truthful. Good words are not persuasive; persuasive words are not good. He who knows has no wide learning; he who has wide learning does not know.

The sage does not hoard.

Having bestowed all he has on others, he has yet more;

Having given all he has to others, he is richer still.

The way of heaven benefits and does not harm; the way of the sage is bountiful and does not contend.

目　录

实现卓越

How to Achieve True Greatness

返回总目录

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

实　现　卓　越

（英汉双语）

［意］巴达萨尔·卡斯蒂廖内　著

［英］乔治·布尔　英译

辛衍君　汉译

中国出版集团公司

中国对外翻译出版有限公司

图书在版编目（CIP）数据

实现卓越：英汉双语/（意）卡斯蒂廖内著；辛衍君译．—北京：中国对外翻译出版有限公司，2011.12

（企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想）

ISBN 978-7-5001-3322-3

Ⅰ．①实…　Ⅱ．①卡…　②辛…　Ⅲ．①英语—汉语—对照读物　②长篇小说—意大利—中世纪　Ⅳ．①H319.4:I

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2011）第247579号

（著作权合同登记：图字01-2012-1438号）

www. penguin. com

How to Achieve True Greatness

This translation first published 1967

This extract published in Penguin Books 2005

Translation copyright © George Bull, 1967

All rights reserved

Taken from the Penguin Classics edition of The Book of the Courtier, translated and edited by George Bull

Set by Rowland Phototypesetting Ltd, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk

出版发行／中国对外翻译出版有限公司

地　　址／北京市西城区车公庄大街甲4号物华大厦6层

电　　话／（010）68359376　68359303　68359719

邮　　编／100044　　传　　真／（010）68357870

电子邮箱／book@ctpc.com.cn

网　　址／http: // www.ctpc.com.cn

出版策划／张高里

责任编辑／胡晓凯 梁 斐

封面设计／奇文堂·潘峰

排　　版／竹叶图文

印　　刷／保定市中画美凯印刷有限公司

规　　格／760×940毫米　1/32　　印　　张／5.75

版　　次／2012年3月第一版　　　 印　　次／2012年3月第一次

ISBN 978-7-5001-3322-3　定价：12.00元

“企鹅”及相关标识是企鹅图书有限公司已经注册或尚未注册的商标。未经允许，不得擅用。

中国对外翻译出版有限公司与企鹅图书有限公司联合出版

中文目录

宫廷侍臣的故事（一）

宫廷侍臣的故事（二）

返回分册总目录

观念

——《伟大的思想》代序

梁文道

每隔一段时间，媒体就喜欢评选一次“影响世界的X个人”或者“改变历史的X项发明”。然而，在我看来，几乎所有人类史上最重大的变革，首先都是一种观念的变革。

我们今天之所以会关注气候的暖化与生物多样性的保存，是因为我们看待地球的方式变了，我们比以前更加意识到人在自然中的位置，也更加了解自然其实是一个动态的系统。放弃了人类可以主宰地球的世界观，这就意味着我们接受了一个观念的变化。同样地，我们不再相信男人一出生就该主宰女人，甚至也不再认为男女之别是不可动摇的本质区分；这也是观念的变化。如果说环保运动和女权运动有任何影响的话，那些影响一定就是从大脑开始的。也不要只看好事，20世纪最惨绝人寰的浩劫最初也只不过是一些小小的观念，危险的观念。比如说一位德国人，他相信人类的进化必以“次等种族”的灭绝为代价……

这套丛书不叫“伟大的巨著”，是因为它们体积都不大，而且还有不少是抽取自某些名著的章节。可它们却全是伟大的观念，例如达尔文论天择，潘恩论常识，它们共同构成了人类的观念地图。从头看它们一遍，就是检视文明所走过的道路，从深处理解我们今天变成这个样子的原因。

也许你会发现其中有些陌生的名字，或者看起来没有那么“伟大”的篇章（譬如普鲁斯特追忆他的阅读时光），但你千万不要小看它们。因为真正重要、真正能够产生启蒙效果的观念往往具有跨界移动的能力，它会跨越时空，离开它原属的领域，在另一个世界产生意外的效果。就像马可·波罗在监狱里述说的异国图景，当时有谁料得到那些荒诞的故事会诱发出哥伦布的旅程呢？我也无法猜测，这套小书的读者里头会不会有下一个哥伦布，他将带着令人惊奇的观念航向自己的大海。

《伟大的思想》中文版序

企鹅《伟大的思想》丛书2004年开始出版。在英国，已付印80种，尚有20种计划出版。美国出版的丛书规模略小，德国的同类丛书规模更小一些。丛书销量已远远超过200万册，在全球很多人中间，尤其是学生当中，普及了哲学和政治学。中文版《伟大的思想》丛书的推出，迈出了新的一步，令人欢欣鼓舞。

推出这套丛书的目的是让读者再次与一些伟大的非小说类经典著作面对面地交流。太长时间以来，确定版本依据这样一个假设——读者在教室里学习这些著作，因此需要导读、详尽的注释、参考书目等。此类版本无疑非常有用，但我想，如果能够重建托马斯·潘恩《常识》或约翰·罗斯金《艺术与人生》初版时的环境，重新营造更具亲和力的氛围，那也是一件有意思的事。当时，读者除了原作者及其自身的理性思考外没有其他参照。

这样做有一定的缺点：每个作者的话难免有难解或不可解之处，一些重要的背景知识会缺失。例如，读者对亨利·梭罗创作时的情况毫无头绪，也不了解该书的接受情况及影响。不过，这样做的优点也很明显。最突出的优点是，作者的初衷又一次变得重要起来——托马斯·潘恩的愤怒、查尔斯·达尔文的灵光、塞内加的隐逸。这些作家在那么多国家影响了那么多人的生活，其影响不可估量，有的长达几个世纪，读他们书的乐趣罕有匹敌。没有亚当·斯密或阿图尔·叔本华，难以想象我们今天的世界。这些小书的创作年代已很久远，但其中的话已彻底改变了我们的政治学、经济学、智力生活、社会规划和宗教信仰。

《伟大的思想》丛书一直求新求变。地区不同，收录的作家也不同。在中国或美国，一些作家更受欢迎。英国《伟大的思想》收录的一些作家在其他地方则默默无闻。称其为“伟大的思想”，我们亦慎之又慎。思想之伟大，在于其影响之深远，而不意味着这些思想是“好”的，实际上一些书可列入“坏”思想之列。丛书中很多作家受到同一丛书其他作家的很大影响，例如，马塞尔·普鲁斯特承认受约翰·罗斯金影响很大，米歇尔·德·蒙田也承认深受塞内加影响，但其他作家彼此憎恨，如果发现他们被收入同一丛书，一定会气愤难平。不过，读者可自行决定这些思想是否合理。我们衷心希望，您能在阅读这些杰作中得到乐趣。

《伟大的思想》出版者

西蒙·温德尔

Introduction to the Chinese

Editions of Great Ideas

Penguin’s Great Ideas series began publication in 2004. In the UK we now have 80 copies in print with plans to publish a further 20. A somewhat smaller list is published in the USA and a related, even smaller series in Germany. The books have sold now well over two million copies and have popularized philosophy and politics for many people around the world — particularly students. The launch of a Chinese Great Ideas series is an extremely exciting new development.

The intention behind the series was to allow readers to be once more face to face with some of the great nonfiction classics. For too long the editions of these books were created on the assumption that you were studying them in the classroom and that the student needed an introduction, extensive notes, a bibliography and so on. While this sort of edition is of course extremely useful, I thought it would be interesting to recreate a more intimate feeling — to recreate the atmosphere in which, for example, Thomas Paine’s Common Sense or John Ruskin’s On Art and Life was first published — where the reader has no other guide than the original author and his or her own common sense.

This method has its severe disadvantages — there will inevitably be statements made by each author which are either hard or impossible to understand, some important context might be missing. For example the reader has no clue as to the conditions under which Henry Thoreau was writing his book and the reader cannot be aware of the book’s reception or influence. The advantages however are very clear — most importantly the original intentions of the author become once more important. The sense of anger in Thomas Paine, of intellectual excitement in Charles Darwin, of resignation in Seneca — few things can be more thrilling than to read writers who have had such immeasurable influence on so many lives, sometimes for centuries, in many different countries. Our world would not make sense without Adam Smith or Arthur Schopenhauer — our politics, economics, intellectual lives, social planning, religious beliefs have all been fundamentally changed by the words in these little books, first written down long ago.

The Great Ideas series continues to change and evolve. In different parts of the world different writers would be included. In China or in the United States there are some writers who are liked much more than others. In the UK there are writers in the Great Ideas series who are ignored elsewhere. We have also been very careful to call the series Great Ideas — these ideas are great because they have been so enormously influential, but this does not mean that they are Good Ideas — indeed some of the books would probably qualify as Bad Ideas. Many of the writers in the series have been massively influenced by others in the series — for example Marcel Proust owned so much to John Ruskin, Michel de Montaigne to Seneca. But others hated each other and would be distressed to find themselves together in the same series! But readers can decide the validity of these ideas for themselves. We very much hope that you enjoy these remarkable books.

Simon Winder

Publisher

Great Ideas

宫廷侍臣的故事

（一）

亲爱的阿方索，对于应该拒绝还是接受你一再要我做的事情，我思索了很久，这确实是个很难的决定。一方面，我好像很难拒绝我由衷喜欢并真心喜欢我的人提出的要求，尤其是那些值得赞赏的要求；另一方面，我又觉得让我这样一个在意别人批评意见的人去做一件自己没有把握的事，好像是个错误。但最后，经过反复考虑，我还是决定接受挑战，看看自己在友情的激励和感召下，能够多么勤奋认真地去做事。

如今你要求我描述出我心目中最适合做君王的宫廷侍臣的标准。达到标准的绅士将既有才学又有能力辅佐君王，从而赢得君王的喜爱和他人的赞誉。总而言之，你想知道什么样的人才能不辱完美侍臣的美名，做到毫无瑕疵。鉴于你的这个请求，我必须承认，我接受它的原因在于我更看重朋友的情谊，而不是他人的怀疑态度。但是我本该拒绝这个苦差事的，因为我害怕被人指责为轻率，要知道从信奉基督教的皇室所遵循的众多风俗中选出完美的典范，也就是完美侍臣的精髓，是一件多么艰难的事情。因为人们对于熟知的风俗也经常是时而崇尚，时而唾弃，即一段时期内被认可的风俗习惯、行为礼仪及生活方式随着时间的推移会遭到鄙视，而曾经受到鄙视的又会渐渐得到认可。所以，在引进新事物、摒弃旧事物的时候，我们可以清楚地看到，惯例比理性更起作用。无论任何人想要在这些事情上做到完美都是在自欺欺人。由于深知这些因素以及这个话题所涉及的许多其他问题，我想替自己找个借口，此外我还想证实，我犯的错（若可以这样讲）你也有责任，我受到责备，你也必须受到责备，我接受了这个任务有错，但是，是你将这个超出我能力范围的苦差事强加给了我。

现在我们还是开始讨论一下我们选定的这个话题吧，如果可能的话，我们共同打造出一个完美侍臣，从而使那个值得他辅佐的君王，即使统治疆域不够辽阔，也可以认为自己是一位真正伟大的统治者。在这些侍臣手册里，我们无需采用传授知识的常规做法，去遵循任何严格的法规或者戒律；只需循着古人的足迹，唤回美好的记忆，重新审视几个对此话题见地颇深的人曾经进行过的讨论。虽然我没能亲自参与讨论（举行讨论的时候，我在英国），但参加讨论的人在我回来之后，立即原原本本地向我讲述了讨论的内容。我现在要尽可能精确地将它们重新呈现出来，以便让你们了解学识出众的人对这一话题的见解，他们的见解是完全令人信服的。为了故事叙述的逻辑性，我先描述一下这场讨论发生的背景，希望这并不会偏离主题。

众所周知，乌尔比诺是一个靠近意大利中心的小城市，它面朝亚得里亚海，坐落于亚平宁山脉的山坡上。虽说环绕在它周围的小山景致平平，比不上许多其他地方，这座城市依然得到了大自然的恩宠，物产丰富，健康宜居。在它享有的众多恩惠和优势中，我认为最重要的是，这里一直不乏杰出的统治者，尽管它也曾在意大利被卷入战乱之时，一度脱离了明君的管辖。远的不说，费德里科公爵［1］的辉煌过去就是个极好的例子。他是当时的意大利之光，时至今日，仍可找出大量有关他的审慎、仁爱、公正、无私、宽宏以及不屈精神的见证。此外，他的军事才能更是非比寻常，他曾多次取得战斗的胜利，占领坚不可摧的阵地，用兵神速果断，以少胜多，甚至战无不胜。因此，将其与许多古代著名的人物相提并论毫不为过。他还做了很多其他令人钦佩的事情，例如在乌尔比诺的丘陵之地建起一座意大利最美丽的宫殿，这座宫殿装修之精致，简直堪与一座城市相媲美。因为在装饰这座宫殿的时候，公爵不仅选用了最常用的装饰品，比如银花瓶和用金线、丝线以及其他珍贵材料编织而成的挂毯等，还选用了不计其数的古式大理石和铜制雕像、绘画珍品以及各种乐器，总之，他把最罕见、最出色的宝物都汇聚到了这里。随后，他又斥巨资收藏了大量最精美和珍贵的以希腊文、拉丁文和希伯来文撰写的书籍，用金银加以装饰，并将之视为其伟大宫殿的最高荣耀。

生老病死是自然规律，费德里科在六十五岁时便带着一生的荣耀永远地离开了人世，唯留一子，名叫吉多贝多，他年幼丧母，年方十岁便继承了爵位。吉多贝多不仅继承了父亲留下的基业，还传承了他的美德，他的不凡性情注定使其成为又一位非凡的君王。总之，大家认为在费德里科公爵所做的令人赞叹的事情中，最伟大的事情就是养育了这样一个儿子。但是他的伟大品质遭到命运女神嫉妒，她不遗余力地打击这位出身如此高贵的年轻人。吉多未满二十岁时就患上了痛风，随着病情的加重，他遭受了极大的痛苦，没多久便残疾了，他的病情十分严重，不能站立也无法行走。从此，一个世界上最优秀、最帅气的人，在年纪尚轻的时候就肢体残疾了。然而命运女神并没有就此罢手，她总是挫败吉多的计划，致使他很少成功；尽管吉多是个深思熟虑、拥有不屈精神的人，但其经手的事情，无论大小，无论是战争还是其他，总是不得善终。这点我们可以从他的各种悲惨遭遇中看出来，而他总是用坚韧不拔的精神来面对这一切。他不但没有被命运击垮，反而蔑视命运的打击，表现出强大的适应能力和不屈的精神。在疾病和困境缠身的情况下，度过健康而幸福的一生，并赢得了真正的尊严和公认的美誉。因此，尽管身体孱弱，他还是以最高统帅的身份统领部队作战，为尊贵的国王阿方索以及年轻的那不勒斯王费迪南德效力；此后还与教皇亚历山大六世以及威尼斯和佛罗伦萨的统帅们协同作战。教皇朱利斯二世继位后，他被任命为教会的首领。在这期间，他除了保持以往的生活方式外，还经常邀请高尚可敬的绅士们来家中做客。有了他们的陪伴，最普通的任期也变得愉快万分。吉多擅长用拉丁语和希腊语做诗，为人和蔼可亲并且知识渊博，因此他带给周围人的欢乐丝毫不亚于别人带给他的欢乐。此外，即使他无法像以前一样参与骑马运动，他还是喜欢观看你追我赶的骑马场面，并做出精妙的评价，根据不同人的长处进行指正或赞扬。而陪伴他的那些出身高贵的绅士们总是在各种场合力争上佳表现，如格斗、比赛、马术、兵器表演、节日、游戏、音乐演奏，等等，以不辜负公爵对自己的赏识。

于是乌尔比诺每天都举行各种高雅并且令人身心愉悦的活动。可是由于公爵身体虚弱，晚饭过后通常需要回到自己的卧房稍事休息，所以这段时间大家都跑去陪伴公爵夫人伊丽莎贝塔·贡萨加，她身边有位伊米莉亚·派亚夫人，要知道，这位夫人可不一般，她活泼风趣、聪明睿智，好像有能力安排好一切，并能时刻让人感受到她的精明和善意。大家在一起时，礼貌的谈话和单纯的幽默让每个人的脸上都洋溢着笑容和快乐，整个屋子真可谓是快乐驿站。我可以很肯定地说，在乌尔比诺，挚友们给彼此带来的快乐和享受他处难寻。在这里，除了以上我所描述的，每个人因辅佐公爵而获得的荣誉感外，我们还因伯爵夫人的存在而感到无比愉悦和满足。这种满足感在我们之间形成了一条强大的感情纽带，使得我们意见和谐一致，真心相爱，找到了亲兄弟之间都难以找到的亲密感觉。对于尊贵的女士们，我们享有自由而单纯地追随左右的权利，我们可以跟她们坐在一起聊天、说笑，当然我们所享受的自由要受到最谨慎的自我约束，一定要尊重公爵夫人的愿望。大家一致认为最令人愉悦的事情就是讨她欢心，而世界上最不幸的事情就是令她不快。正因为这些原因，她的这个团体成了同时拥有最好的教养和最大的自由的统一体；她出席时，我们的游戏和笑话都充满了最犀利的俏皮话和优美而朴素的尊贵感。公爵夫人在打趣的时候总是那样言辞得体、举止端庄，即便是第一次见到她的人，都会发现她是一位多么伟大的女性。从她影响周围人的方式来看，好像她总能使我们不知不觉地学习她的性格和品质，每个人都努力模仿她的行为方式，并试图从这位伟大又聪明的女性身上总结出一种优秀的品行模式。在此我不打算详述她的高尚品质，不仅是因为这已超越了我的语言表述能力，还因描述她的品质并不是我的目的所在，因为这些品质早已经是众所周知的了。但我还必须补充一些在公爵夫人身上隐藏着的某些其他品质。好像命运女神也倾慕这位世间罕有的伟大女性，命运选择了用逆境和残酷的打击来证实这位温柔的女性除了拥有非凡的美貌之外，还拥有在最坚定的男人身上都难以找到的审慎和勇气。

故事继续进行，依照惯例，所有的绅士在晚饭后都会立刻赶往公爵夫人那里，那儿安排了各种各样的娱乐活动，美妙的音乐、迷人的舞蹈一个接着一个。有时大家会提出一些非常有趣的问题，或者（根据这人或那人的提议）玩一些巧妙有趣的游戏。比如在场的人会用寓意很深的语言来掩饰自己的想法，请其他人猜。有时候，大家会讨论各种各样的话题，或者以即兴问答的方式说些犀利的俏皮话。在这种场合，大家通常会运用我们现在所说的“象征”的手法，所有人都非常享受这种交流，因为在场的人都是我所说的那种非常高贵而且聪明的人。

……

按规矩，参加公爵夫人聚会的人会围坐成一圈，大家可以随意坐，如果有女士在场，就要男女交替而坐，但男士的数量通常多于女士。然后大家都等着公爵夫人主持大局，这时公爵夫人总是把主持大权交给伊米莉亚夫人。所以教皇离开的第二天，他们就按照原定的时间相聚在老地方，进行一番愉悦的讨论后，公爵夫人请伊米莉亚夫人宣布游戏开始。

……

每个人都等着伊米莉亚夫人发话，可她没有对贝博说一句话，却转向费德里科·弗莱高索，意思是请他提议做个游戏。他立刻说道：“夫人，……为了教训一下那些自以为是，荒谬地认为自己可以被称为优秀侍臣的人，我建议今晚我们做一个游戏：从我们之中选一个人描述一下完美侍臣的标准，具体说明应具备什么样的性格和特别品质才配得上这个称号。这次争论只停留在哲理层面，如果有任何不恰当的观点，我们每个人都可以进行反驳。”

费德里科刚要继续往下说，伊米莉亚夫人突然打断他，说道：“如果这是公爵夫人希望的，今晚我们就玩这个游戏。”

于是，公爵夫人回答：“没错，这正是我所希望的。”

接下来，几乎所有在场的人都开始议论起来，有的跟其他人说，有的跟公爵夫人说，总之他们认为这是最好的游戏，已经迫不及待要听听大家的高见了，他们急切地想知道伊米莉亚夫人要谁第一个发言。于是，只见她转向公爵夫人，说道：“夫人，我可不想从他们中间选出第一个人，这样做好像是在表明我认为这个人最有能力似的，我会因此得罪了其他人，还是您来决定让谁先说吧。”

公爵夫人回答道：“不，必须你来选，不服从我的命令的话，你会给其他人树立一个坏榜样的。”

于是，伊米莉亚夫人面带笑容地对来自卡诺萨的洛多维科伯爵说道：“好吧，为了不浪费更多的时间，您就做费德里科提议的这个游戏的第一人吧。我想说的是，不是因为我们认为您是位很出色的侍臣，所以一定知道侍臣应该具备什么品质。而是因为我们希望您说的不正确，那样每个人都有理由反驳您，游戏也会很有趣。但如果把这个任务交给一个比您学识渊博的人，他说的话就成了真理，人们就无法挑战他的观点了，如果真是这样，这个游戏就会十分无趣了。”

伯爵立即回应道：“不过，夫人，有您的在场，我们完全不必担心，相信真理一定会被反复推敲的。”

……

“首先我想说，从任何事物中找到真正的完美都是很艰难的事情，甚至是不可能的。这是因为不同观点会导致对完美的不同定义。因此，有人喜欢健谈的人，认为他们是令人愉悦的好伙伴；有些则喜欢慎言的人；还有些喜欢活跃的人；而有的就喜欢做事稳重的人，由此可见，每个人都是根据自己的观点来判断事物的好坏。因此经常会本末倒置，以相应的优点来掩盖缺点，或是以相应的缺点来掩盖优点。例如，你可以把一个冒失的人说成是坦率，一个朴实的人说成是无趣，一个头脑简单的人说成是心地善良，还可以把一个无赖说成是精明的人，诸如此类的事情不胜枚举。但是我仍相信一切事物皆有完美，即便它可能被掩藏了起来，我们还是可以通过多方的推理和论证找到它。正如我之前所言，真相总是掩藏在那里。我称不上是个学识渊博的人，所以只能赞扬自己景仰的那类侍臣是个什么样子，以及在我的判断力所及的范围内如何做才是正确的。若您觉得我的观点正确，您可以表示赞同；若您和我的观点不一，您可以坚持自己的观点。我不会去争辩我的看法比您的更好，不仅因为我们的想法可以有所不同，还因为我自己的想法也在不断变化。”

伯爵继续说：“我认为，侍臣应该出身高贵并且具有良好的家庭背景。这是因为普通人品行的好坏对他的重要性远不及贵族。如果一位绅士偏离了祖辈的正道，他就辱没了他的家族，不仅一事无成还要落得个前功尽弃的下场。高贵的出身就像一盏明灯，将善行和恶举暴露于亮光之下，它鼓励和激发高贵的人为荣誉和赞美多做善事。而对普通人来说，他们的行为不在高贵光环的照耀之下，他们没有受到这种光环的激励，也不必担心颜面尽失，并且他也没有一定要超越自己祖先的压力。与之相反，出身高贵的人认为自己的成就没能达到或是超越先辈，就应该受到谴责。因此，通常情况下，在战争和其他重要活动中取得卓越成就的人大都是贵族。这是因为，大自然在所有的事物中都埋藏了一颗秘密的种子，这颗种子影响着那些源自它的所有事物，使其具备自己的核心特征，同自己有相似之处。这一点我们可以从马匹等动物的繁殖以及植物的衍生中清楚地发现。树木的枝杈总是与树干十分相似。如果有时候它们长得不好，那也是人们疏于照管的原因。人也是一样的道理，若得到悉心的照料和精心的培养，他就会像先辈一样出色，甚至更胜一筹；若没有得到足够的关爱，就会肆意疯长无法成才。当然，下面这种情况也确实存在，有些人天生就是大自然的宠儿，生来就被赋予某种非凡的脑力和体力，以至于他们好像不是简单地来到这个世界，而是得到了上帝的保佑，由上帝之手细心雕琢而成。同样，人们也发现有些人是如此粗俗、荒唐，以至于我们只能认为他们是大自然出于怨恨和嘲弄的目的才将其带到这个世界上来的。正是因为如此，后者即使不停地努力，得到精心的培养，也通常难成正果，而前者只要稍作努力就会达到杰出的顶峰。以费拉拉的红衣主教唐·艾波尼多·德·伊斯特为例，幸运的身世影响了他的性格、外表、言语及行为。因为老天的偏爱，年纪轻轻的他虽身处最德高望重的红衣主教之中，仍拥有相当的权威，与其说他是在受教不如说他是在施教。在跟人交流、游戏以及说笑时也是一样，他的个人魅力和优雅的举止是那样令人叹服，使得所有和他交谈的人，甚至只看过他一眼的人都会深深地喜爱上他并回味良久。但是言归正传，我认为在这种极致的优雅和荒谬的愚笨之间还有一种中间形式，即那些没有得到大自然恩赐的完美，却通过用心和努力来提高自己并且尽可能弥补天生的缺点的人。因此除了出身高贵的绅士之外，我也很偏爱这类侍臣，他们不仅从大自然那里获得了智慧、美丽的外表和良好的为人，还获得了某种风度和优雅，使他很快吸引并取悦遇见他的人，他的优雅表现在举手投足之间，很轻易就会赢得大人物的亲近和喜爱。”

话音刚落，加斯帕雷·帕拉维契诺先生就已经按捺不住了，他说道：“既然我们的游戏要像事先说好的那样进行，为了体现出我们并未忘记使用反驳的特权，请允我表明，我并不认为侍臣必须要出身高贵。如果有人觉得我的话很奇怪，我愿意进行引证说明，许多人即使身上流淌着最高贵的血也会道德极度败坏；相反，许多出身卑微的人却通过自身的美德为其后世子孙赢得荣耀。假设事实真如您所言，也就是，每个事物都受最初掩藏的那颗种子的影响，那么既然我们在最初时是一样的，现在的性格也应该是一样的，何以现在一些人比另一些人更高尚些呢？事实上，我认为我们之间高低贵贱之分是有许多其他原因的。第一个，也是最重要的一个原因，就是命运，她掌控着世间万事，但她经常由着自己的性子，根本不考虑是否合适就将某人抬举一番，而将那些最值得抬举的人重重摔下。您说那些一出生就有完美身心的人很幸福，这我完全同意；然而无论是出身卑微还是高贵，世上都有这样的好运之人，因为大自然显然不懂所谓高贵和卑微的差别。相反，正如我所说的，大自然往往将最杰出的才能赋予出身卑微的人。既然高贵的出身既不是通过才能也不是通过武力或技能获得的，它只是用于鼓励其祖先的东西，跟他本人没有关系。因此有人若继续坚持认为侍臣的父母出身卑微就会破坏他所有的优良品质，并且无法培养出您所提及的完美品质，如才能、美貌、良好性情以及只消一眼就能使他人如沐春风的优雅举止，这听起来是多么奇怪。”

洛多维科伯爵答道：“我并不否认出身低微的人也一样可以具有高贵的美德。但是，除了我们已经讨论的，我还想再给出一个来说明我赞美高贵出身的原因。实践证明了美好的东西会带来好的效果，所以大家都认同这一点，即我们所创造出来的侍臣（毫无缺点，天生具有各种优点） 最好是个贵族，只有这样他才会立刻给周围的人留下好印象。例如，宫廷里的两位绅士，在他们还未通过行为举止来展现自己的时候，不论为人好坏，只要人们发现其中一个人出身很好，另一个不好，那就会更加尊重前者；而后者只有通过长期的努力才会赢得这种好感，但前者只是因为出身高贵就唾手可得。我们都很清楚这些印象是多么重要。就说我们自己吧，走进这间屋子的某些人，他们虽然是整个意大利都公认的伟臣，但有些实际上却十分愚笨无趣，即使后来被发现了，他们依然能迷惑我们很长时间，因为在他们到来之前，那种先入为主的好印象会使我们忽略在与之交往中发现的缺点。我们也见过一些人，开始时并不被人看好，最后却取得很大成功。导致这些误会的原因多种多样，其中有一种是因为君王们固执己见，期待发生奇迹般的转变，所以有时明知某人不堪大任，却仍有意宠信。当然，有时候也会出现君王被自己欺骗这种情况，因为君王们拥有无数的效仿者，君王的偏爱会给他的爱臣带来极高的声誉，从而影响到其他人的看法。而且即使人们发现一些看似与普遍观点背道而驰的事情，他们总会认为自己看错了，然后等着真相揭晓。因为人们似乎相信，大家普遍认同的事情一定是以真实合理的事实为依据的。再有，我们很容易迫不及待地表明立场，盲目地支持一方或者反对一方，这种情形在公开竞技、游戏或各种比赛等场合随处可见——旁观者们总是毫无缘由地支持其中的某个选手，急切地希望他赢得漂亮，对手输得很惨。而至于那人的性格与名声的好坏，只有当我们听说了他们的过去，心中才会产生某种喜恶，并以此来判定是否该支持那人。由此可见，第一印象是多么重要，尤其是对一个立志要成为一名优秀侍臣的人来说，努力留下良好的第一印象十分必要。

“但是如果把标准落到实处的话，我认为侍臣最首要的职责应该是军事才能，并且应该成为他第一位的追求目标。此外，他还应该具备出众的进取精神、胆识以及对主人的忠诚。他还应该随时随地全力展示出这些品质，来赢取美名，否则便会招致严重的责难。就像一名贞洁女子的名声一旦被玷污，就再也无法挽回，一名参战的绅士因为胆小或其他有失颜面的行为而毁掉自己的名誉，即使仅仅一次，在所有人眼中永远都是污点，其名誉会永远受损。在我看来，一位优秀侍臣的军事才能也不一定要多么具有专业水准，但是毋庸置疑，他在军事方面做得越出色，就越会得到更多的赞誉。然而，既然我们谈到了这里，就需要深入探讨一下一位伟大的统帅需要具备什么品质，正如我们所言，令我们感到满意的优秀侍臣应该表现出无比的忠诚以及大无畏的精神。人们在小事上总是比在大事上更容易展示出勇气。常见的情况是，在面临极度的危险时，常常会看见一些人虽然怕得要死，却碍于羞耻心或有他人在场，双眼紧闭，奋力向前，履行他们的职责，只有上帝知道究竟是怎么回事儿。但在一些微不足道的小事上，却可以看到他们在确保可以躲避危险又不会被察觉的情况下，早就溜之大吉，不愿意去冒险。而有些人即使知道没有其他人注意或认识自己，还是出于良心，充满热情地做好每件小事，他们身上有着我们要找的侍臣应具有的性情和品质。当然，我们所希望的侍臣不是在作秀，假装自己很勇猛，总是夸夸其谈，号称自己从不脱掉护胸甲，像贝多一样目中无人、怒视一切。曾听一位可敬的女士讲过这样的笑话，她在一次聚会中出于礼貌，邀请某位男士（在此我不想透露他的姓名）跳舞，而该男子不仅拒绝了她，还拒绝听音乐，也不参加其他娱乐活动，说这些风花雪月的事情和他无关。最后，女士问什么与他有关时，他一脸愁容地答道：‘打仗……’

“‘那好，’女士回应道，‘我觉得既然现在未逢战事，您最好给自己上上油，和其他武器装备一起放到壁橱里收藏起来，以免变得比现在更锈迹斑斑。’

“这位女士对他愚蠢行为的讽刺令每个人都爆笑不止。”

“因此，”洛多维科伯爵继续说道，“我们要寻找的那个人一定是在敌人面前勇猛、粗犷并且永远冲锋在前；而在其他的场合，他又应该是友善、谦虚、沉默，尤其是避免炫耀，或可恶的自我称颂，因为这常常引起那些不得不听他说话的人的厌恶和反感。”

“依我看，”加斯帕雷阁下回答道，“我认识的那些出众的人才很少有人不喜欢夸耀自己。在我看来，当一个值得关注的人发现他所做的好事被人忽略，因自己的才能不为人知而气愤，于是被迫以某种方式来表现自己，以免其真正努力应得的荣誉被骗走，这种自夸的方式是可以接受的。因此，古时候的作家们很少有人不赞扬自己。当然，胸无点墨却还硬要称颂自己的人肯定让人无法忍受，但是我们认为我们的侍臣不会是那种人。”

听到这儿，伯爵说道：

“希望你认真听了我所说的话， 我方才是在指责那些过分而盲目颂扬自己的人。但是一个真正有才学的人适度地自夸是无可厚非的；当然如果这种赞颂来自于他人则更有说服力。我的意思是说，一个人以正确的方式赞美自己且没有引起嫉妒或反感，那么这是他的自由；他应该得到别人和自己的赞颂，因为他为之付出了极大的努力。”

“那您一定要教教我们该怎样做。” 加斯帕雷阁下说道。

“嗯，”伯爵回答，“以前有人曾经教过古时候的作家们如何应对这种情况。但在我看来，正确的做法是注意说话的方式，一种好的说话方式会让人听起来不是为了炫耀自己，而是自然而然、恰到好处；在自夸的时候不能给别人留下自夸的印象，但又不像一些夸夸其谈的人在信口胡说，就像我们中间曾经有人发生的故事，他在比萨被长矛刺穿了大腿后，自称就像有一只苍蝇叮了他一下；还有人说他之所以不在房间里放镜子，是因为他发怒时表情非常恐怖，足以把自己吓死。”

大家听了伯爵的话都大笑起来，接着塞萨尔·贡萨加又补充道：

“你们在笑什么？难道你们没听过下面这个故事。亚历山大大帝从某个哲学家那里听说除了这个世界之外还有很多其他的世界，他竟然哭了起来。当大家问他为什么哭的时候，他回答说：‘因为我尚未征服任何一个’——好像他就应该征服所有的世界一样，你们说，这难道不比那个关于苍蝇的说法更离谱吗？”

伯爵接着说道：

“亚历山大大帝可比刚才提到的那个家伙要伟大得多。我们一定要原谅杰出的大人高估自己这种事。毕竟一个成就伟业的人一定要有勇气去做事，也一定要对自己有信心。他不应该怯懦或是卑躬屈膝，但是他在用词上应该谨慎点儿，对自己取得的成就谦虚点儿，并且做事小心一点儿，这样就不会被人指责自以为是了。”

伯爵沉默片刻后，伯纳多·比别纳微笑着说：

“我记得您之前说过，我们的完美侍臣应该有一副天生英俊的脸庞和外表，并且拥有迷人的风度。嗯，我很肯定自己既有风度又有英俊的容貌，正因如此，很多女人都疯狂地爱着我。但是说到体型，我就很没信心了，尤其是我的双腿，它们没能长得如我所愿；还有，我对我的胸和其他的一些身体部位都不是非常满意。所以请更详细地解释一下一个人应该有怎样的体形，以便我能从自我怀疑的痛苦中解脱，放下心来。”

在大家一阵大笑之后，伯爵开口说道：

“你确实有刚才我所说的优雅容貌，我也不需要其他的例子来阐明这一点；虽然你的容貌不是非常的精致，但是毫无疑问，你的外表非常讨人喜欢并令人愉快，另外，你看上去也有男子的气概和风度。许多不同类型的面孔都可以达到这种效果。我希望我们的侍臣也是这样。我不希望他们看上去很温柔、很女性化，像有些侍臣想竭力做到的一般，他们不仅烫卷发、拔眉，还将自己打扮成最放荡荒唐的样子，简直让人难以想象。实际上，他们在走路、站立或做其他事情时，看上去十分女人气并且软弱无力，以至于他们的四肢像要散架；他们说话时是那么地有气无力，像要当场断气似的。而且越是跟随在有身份的人身边，他们的这种表现越明显。既然大自然没能让他们投胎成他们想要的女性，那么我们就不能把他们当成女人来看待，而只应该视其为男妓，并将其逐出绅士的群体，更不用说高贵的宫廷了。

”至于侍臣的外貌，我想说的是，只要不太高或太矮就行，因为不论是太高还是太矮都会引发非议，被视为怪物。然而，如果不得不在两者之间做出选择的话，那么最好是选择矮一点而不是太高；因为太高的人一般都比较笨，更糟糕的是，他们不适宜参加体育和娱乐活动，而我认为这两项活动对于侍臣来说是最重要的。所以我希望我们的侍臣有健美的身材，比例匀称，他是力量、敏捷和柔韧的化身，擅长所有适合勇士的体育运动。在这里，我还想说他的首要任务就是学会如何徒步或在马上熟练地使用各种兵器，真正地了解各种兵器，尤其是要熟知绅士们常用的兵器。因为除了在战争中需要这种知识以外，绅士们之间因为意见不合而导致决斗也是常事，那时使用的兵器通常是顺手拿到的，所以，为了安全起见，知道所有兵器的用法很重要。当然我以上的观点不代表我认为在战斗中可以忽略技巧，因为此时没有技巧的人恰恰说明他已经让恐惧夺走了勇气和智慧。

“此外，我认为学会摔跤也至关重要，因为它在徒步搏斗中很起作用。再有，我还认为侍臣为了自己和他的朋友，应该学会如何讨回自己应得的一切并据理力争，他应该善于抓住优势，最重要的是他必须显示出勇气和审慎。除非遇到为了荣誉而战的紧急情况，否则应该慎行；因为在对结局没有把握的情况下，这样做很危险，若不是紧急情况、形势所迫，草率行事的人都应该受到严肃批评，即便能侥幸成功，也是一样。但是如果一个人已经深陷其中、无路可退的时候，他就要在开始和决斗的过程中都非常地谨慎，表现出胸有成竹并且毫无畏惧，而不是像那些总是在口头上大谈什么是荣誉的人一样怯懦，你若让他们选择兵器，他们就选那些既不会割伤又不会刺伤对方的，还把自己武装得像要接受炮轰似的，战斗还没开始，他们就已经做好精神准备，如果败下阵来，就要一直后退，做好防守，完全一副胆小如鼠的样子。这种决斗的场面看起来就像是一场孩子们的游戏，就像那两个不久前在佩鲁贾打架的安科纳人一样，让每个看到他们的人都忍俊不禁。”

“他们是谁呀？”加斯帕雷·帕拉维契诺问道。

“一对表兄弟。”塞萨尔回答道。

“他们在打斗中更像一对亲兄弟。”伯爵说。接着他继续说道：

“他们使用的兵器也是和平时期的各种体育活动中常用的，绅士们的荒唐表演在众人、女士和贵族们面前公开上演。所以我希望我们的侍臣是一位有造诣又多才多艺的骑手，精通关于马以及一切有关骑马的知识，他应该竭尽全力在各个方面都争取超过其他的人，这样他才能做到出类拔萃。就像阿西维亚德斯那样超越周围所有人，并且每次都是在别人宣称是自己最棒的项目上胜出，所以我们的侍臣也应该在别人熟知的事情上更胜一筹。比如意大利人在用缰绳驭马、驯服烈马、马上持长矛冲刺以及长矛比武方面能力出众，那我们这位优秀的侍臣在这方面的技艺就应该和最好的意大利选手相媲美。在马上比武的比赛中，一位优秀的侍臣又可以跟最擅于坚守阵地和冲锋向前的法国人一争高下；在射击、奔牛比赛、投掷长矛和标枪方面，他应该比西班牙人更出众。但是如果他想赢得每个人都渴望的一致认同，最重要的就是，他在做这些事情的时候，还必须表现出很好的风度和判断力。

“也有许多其他的体育项目不直接要求使用兵器，但与兵器密切相关，并且要求参与者非常具有男子气概。在这些运动中，我认为打猎是最重要的，因为打猎在很多方面都与战争有相似之处；此外，它是贵族们真正喜爱的娱乐方式，因此它也应该是侍臣从事的运动，要知道打猎在古代就很流行了。另外，侍臣还应该会游泳，擅长跳跃、跑步和投掷，因为这些技能除了在战争中很有用以外，还可以帮助他树立起良好的声誉，尤其是博取大众的欢心。另外一个适合侍臣的高尚运动便是网球，因为打网球可以显示出他良好的体魄、运动的迅速和敏捷，以及他是否真的具有在其他大多数运动项目中表现出的素质。我还觉得在马背上的表现很重要，这种运动非常容易令人疲惫，难度也很高，但是它比其他任何运动都能显示出一个人灵活和敏捷的一面；另外，除了这些好处以外，在马背上的敏捷再加上优雅的风度，在我看来，比其他运动更加赏心悦目。如果我们的侍臣在所有这些运动中都能表现出高水平，那么他就可以忽略其他运动，如侧手翻、高空走钢索等。因为这些运动更像是杂技，实在不适合绅士。既然一个人不能总是参加这样紧张的活动（而且不断的重复会让人感到厌烦，破坏我们对事物的新鲜感），他必须通过做不同的事情来让生活变得丰富多彩。所以我希望这位侍臣偶尔也可以屈尊做些平静的、不那么剧烈的游戏，并通过做其他人常做的事情来避免他人的嫉妒，从而能融洽地与人相处；但是他还必须时刻用良好的教养和正确的判断指导自己的行为，避免做蠢事。总之，他开怀大笑、开玩笑、调侃还有跳舞都可以，就是不能忘记表现出良好的控制力、谨慎以及做事的风度。”

接着，塞萨尔·贡萨加说道：“很显然现在打断这个讨论有点为时尚早，但是如果再继续保持沉默，我就无法行使我说话的权利，也将失去学习更多东西的机会。我希望大家能够原谅我，我只是想问一个问题而不是进行什么反驳。刚才伯纳多就曾因为太想证实自己长得英俊而违反了游戏规则，相信我也可以吧。”

“你们看到了吧，”公爵夫人评论道，“这就是为什么一个错误可以导致更多的错误。所以一个人犯了错，树立了一个坏的榜样，就像伯纳多那样，他就不仅仅要为他自己的错误行为受罚，还要为导致其他人跟着犯错受罚。”

接着塞萨尔又问：“如果是这样的话，夫人，既然伯纳多既要为自己犯规受罚又要为我犯规受罚，那么我就可以不用受罚了。”

“恰恰相反，”公爵夫人说，“你们二人必须都要受罚两次：因为他不但自己做错事还导致你跟着犯错，而你要为了自己犯错和模仿别人犯错而受罚。”

“夫人，”塞萨尔答道，“我到目前为止还什么错事都没做呢，所以为了只让伯纳多一人受罚，我还是不说了。”

他停下来后，伊米莉亚夫人笑道：

“请尽管说吧，如果公爵夫人允许的话，我将原谅你们两个，不管是已经犯了规的人，还是那个差点儿要犯规的人。”

公爵夫人说：“那好吧。但是要注意不要欺骗自己并认为仁慈应比公正得到更多的赞扬。因为如果一个人太容易原谅犯规的人，那么他就伤害了没有犯规的人。然而，我严厉地责备你的放纵，并不意味着我们不能听听塞萨尔想要问的是什么。”

接着，在公爵夫人和伊米莉亚夫人的示意下，他立刻开口道：

“我亲爱的伯爵，如果我没记错的话，您今天晚上重复了好几次，一个侍臣的一举一动以及做事方式，或简而言之，就是他所有的行动都要保持风度。照我的理解来看，您认为任何事都要有风度当做辅料，否则所有其他品质似乎都一文不值。我承认现在我们每个人都很赞同这一点，就风度本身的意义来讲，一个举止有风度的人在其他方面也同样有风度。您说过风度通常是天生的，是上帝的赐予，即使它不是那么完美，也可以通过实践和努力得到很大的提高。在我看来，我们周围就有这样的人，他们是上天的宠儿，天生就有这些品质，不需要什么进一步指导，因为上天是那样地抬举他们，赐予他们的风度简直超越他们的期待，这使得每个人都喜欢和仰慕他们。我不想争论这一点，因为我们没有能力自己去获得。但是对于那些得到的天赐较少，只能通过进取、实践和努力获得风度的人，我想知道通过什么技巧、培训和方法可以让他们获得风度，包括您认为非常重要的在体育和娱乐中的风度，以及在其他场合中的风度。既然您已经如此高度地赞扬了这种品质，我相信您已经激起了我们所有人想拥有这种风度的强烈愿望，因为伊米莉亚夫人把这个任务交给了您，您有义务教我们如何去做。”

“我没有义务，”伯爵说，“去教你们如何获得风度，或其他任何的东西，我的义务只是告诉你们完美的侍臣应该是什么样的。我也不会承担教你们如何获得风度的任务，尤其是刚才我提到侍臣应该学会摔跤、跳马和很多其他的技能，因为我自己并没有学过这些，我肯定你们都非常清楚我能教出什么样儿来。这就好像一位出色的士兵能对铁匠说出他想要的盔甲的样式、形状和质量就够了，不必教铁匠怎样去锤炼和锻造，我只能告诉你们一个完美侍臣的标准，但是却不能教你们怎样变成他。然而，尽管众所周知风度是学不来的，为了尽最大能力满足你们的要求，我说如果有人想拥有运动员或体育家的风度的话（首先要确定他天生是这块料），他应该从小就开始练习并且找到最好的老师。例如，马其顿王国的菲利普国王就曾请最伟大的哲人亚里士多德来教他的儿子亚历山大。再如，我们同时代的法国侍卫队长加里亚佐·桑瑟夫内洛先生，他有着优雅的风度和敏捷的身手，除了有天资的原因，他还竭尽全力向好老师们学习，并与杰出的人为伴，学习他们的优点。因此，在摔跤、跳马和各种兵器的使用方面，他向大家所熟知的毫无争议的、精通所有与力量和灵活相关项目的大师皮埃特罗·蒙特学习。在骑马、马上长枪比武等方面，他也一直向在各个项目上人所共知的高手学习。

“因此，任何一个想成为好学生的人都必须将事情做好，还要持续努力地模仿，如果有可能的话，一定要完全模拟他的老师。当他觉得自己有一些进步的时候，就去观察不同的侍臣，他应该具有正确的判断力，以便在此指引下，不断学习不同侍臣身上的长处，这将会对他非常有益。就像在夏天的田野里，蜜蜂们忙着在花丛中采蜜，侍臣必须向那些看似很有风度的人学习，并从每个人身上学到最闪光的优点。他当然不能像我们的一位朋友那样，名字我就不说了，他认为自己很像阿拉贡王国的斐迪南德国王，但他只是模仿了这位国王抬头和撇嘴的方式，而这只是国王在生病时养成的习惯。还有许多类似这样的例子，他们认为只要能在某方面像伟人就很了不起了，而很多时候他们抓住的却恰恰只是伟人唯一的缺点。关于如何拥有优雅的风度我已经思索了很久，除了那些天生运气好的人，我还发现了一个普遍规律，这个规律非常适用于人们的行为和言语：即不惜任何代价远离矫揉造作，好似远离一座粗糙而危险的暗礁，（可能要用一种小说语言）在做任何事时都学着表现出一种化技巧于无形的平和，让自己在说话和做事的时候看起来是那样的浑然天成而驾轻就熟。我确信风度更重要的来源在于此，因为每个人都知道完美地建立丰功伟业是多么困难的一件事，因此如果轻而易举就做到了，一定会引来人们极大的好奇心；然而，恰恰相反的是，如果费尽心力做成一件事，就显示出缺乏优雅的风度，从而导致在人们心目中的形象大打折扣。所以我们可以非常肯定地说，真正的技巧是让人看不出来的技巧；这里最重要的环节是把技巧隐藏起来，因为如果技巧暴露了，就会让人颜面尽失、名誉扫地。我记得曾经读过古代某些杰出演说家的故事，他们所做的事情中有一件让我印象深刻，那就是他们曾非常努力地让大家相信他们是目不识丁的人；掩饰自己的学识，让他们的演讲看似是由非常简单的词句构成，看似是在顺应天意和真理，而非用心雕饰和杜撰什么。因为如果人们知道他们的伎俩，就会害怕被欺骗。所以你们现在明白为什么运用太多技巧的东西都变得风度无存了吧。当皮埃尔·保罗以其特有的方式：轻轻地跳跃，用脚尖点地，伸直双腿，头一动也不动地跳舞，看上去就像是用木头做成，他跳得那么吃力，像是在数每一个舞步，你们中间有谁没有发笑？谁会这么没有眼力以至于看不出这笨拙的做作？相反，我们今天在场的很多男士和女士，他们所表现出的风度和平静才被称为自然，因为他们在说话、大笑或约束自己等方面没有很刻意去做，看到他们的人就会认为他们天生优雅，根本不会也不知道怎样去犯错。”

……

这时伊米莉亚夫人打断了一下：“在我看来你们的争论太冗长沉闷了。将这个话题推迟到另外的时间再谈吧。”

费德里科还想继续回答，但是伊米莉亚夫人没有给他机会；最终伯爵说道：

“有些人想对语言的风格、韵律和模仿的问题做些评论，然而自己却不知风格、韵律为何物，也不知如何给模仿下定义，更不知道为何维吉尔从荷马或其他人的作品中引用了的很多东西，却被人看作是改进而非剽窃。我不明白的原因或许在于我的理解能力有问题。而教授作品的人是应该要理解所教内容的，可是现在，我恐怕连他们自己都不大理解，他们既赞扬维吉尔又赞扬西塞罗，是因为他们知道很多人都在赞扬这两个人，而不是自己认识到二者与其他人的区别。他们的区别肯定不在于是否保留了几个语句，或用法与其他人不同。在萨卢斯特［2］、恺撒［3］、瓦罗［4］ 和其他伟大作家的作品里，我们发现一些术语的用法与西塞罗使用的不同；但是这两种方式都是完全可以接受的，因为语言的力量和精髓不在于这些细枝末节：就像埃斯基涅斯［5］挖苦狄摩西尼［6］，问他所使用的一些非雅典式的词语是怪物还是异物时，狄摩西尼只是笑了笑，回答说这不是什么关乎希腊命运的大事。所以如果一些托斯卡纳人再指责我用的词，比如应该用satisfatto而非sodisfatto，onorevole而非orrevole，causa而非cagione，populo而非popolo等时［7］，我又有什么好担心的呢？”

这时费德里科站了起来，大声说：“我现在请求你们听我说一小会儿。”

但是伊米莉亚夫人笑着说：“不，无论现在你们中的任何人还想继续这个话题，我都会非常不开心，因为我想等另外一个晚上再进行讨论。但是我亲爱的伯爵，请继续讨论您的侍臣，并且让我们看看你的记忆力有多好，因为我觉得您应该从刚才停下来的地方讲起，这可不是件容易的事儿。”

“恐怕，”伯爵回答道，“我已经乱了头绪，如果我没说错的话，我们刚才在说做作能毁掉风度，最优雅的风度应该是朴素和自然的，我们赞颂优雅，谴责做作，在这方面还有很多可谈的。但是，我只想再多说一点。现在每个女人都特别想漂亮，如果无法做到，至少也想看起来漂亮。所以当她有一些天生的缺点的时候，她力图通过人工的方式来纠正这个缺点。这就是为什么女士们如此仔细地修饰她们的面容，有时甚至是通过痛苦的方式，比如拔眉、修前额、使用各种方式遭受各种小痛苦，你们女士以为男士对此一无所知，事实上他们十分清楚。”

这时，科斯坦萨·弗莱高索夫人笑了，她说：“出于礼貌，你们还是继续刚才的讨论，谈谈风度的源泉及侍臣的事情吧，不要再讨论女性的缺点这个与此不相干的话题了。”

“相反，我说的与该话题息息相关，”伯爵回答道，“因为我刚才提到的那些毛病会让你们优雅全无，而原因就在于做作，也正是这一点让每个人都清楚地看到你们有多么渴望变得美丽。你们肯定知道什么是更优雅的女人，如果她的确想要优雅，与那个脸上化着浓妆，像是戴了面具的女人相反，她会将自己打扮得很简朴，只施很淡的妆，她是如此地简朴雅致以至于看到她的人都不确定她是不是化过妆。那个化浓妆的女人因为害怕‘面具’破裂都不敢大笑，只有在早晨穿衣服的时候才能看到她的本色，这之后的一天里她都像个呆板的木雕一样，并且只让别人在昏暗的光亮下看到自己，就像是一个狡猾的商人在昏暗的角落里展示自己的布料。与此相反，一个完全没有化妆的美丽女人比其他浓妆艳抹的女人更加有魅力。她的脸色既不太白也不太红，看上去很自然，有一点苍白（但偶尔会因为害羞或其他原因而脸红），她让她那未经修饰的头发自然地散落，她的姿态简单而自然，没有一丝努力或渴望漂亮的迹象。这就是自然简单之美，最能让男人着迷，因为男人常常害怕被假象所戏弄。对于女人来说，可爱的牙齿总是讨人喜欢的，因为大多数情况下牙齿都是不在视线范围之内的，人们通常不会费很多力气来让牙齿看起来漂亮，而把精力放在了脸的其他部位；然而当一个人无故大笑，只是为了秀出牙齿，就暴露了她的做作。不管牙齿有多好看，都会让人感觉非常不雅，就像卡图卢斯［8］笔下的伊格内修［9］一样。这个道理同样适用于手，如果手指纤巧美丽，并在适当的时间露出来，比如说当需要用手而不是展示其美丽的时候，就会让人忍不住想多看一会儿，尤其是在给它戴上手套以后，更让人想再多看一会儿。因为那个给手戴上手套的人根本就没有在乎她的手是否被人注意，她美丽的双手更多是天生的而不是经过雕饰或刻意美化的。当然，你有时候也会无意看到这样的情景，一个女人在去教堂的路上沿街而行的时候，也许因为好玩或什么其他原因，偶尔将裙子掀起，正好能露出脚踝，甚至一小部分腿。如果你正好看到这一幕，你是不是会觉得那才是真正的优雅——穿着漂亮袜子、系着天鹅绒丝带的快乐女性？毫无疑问，我相信你们和我一样都觉得那将非常令人愉快，因为每个人都认为难得一见的优雅是自然的而非细心雕琢的，并且也不是以赢得赞美为目的的。

“这样一来，做作就可以被避免或隐藏；现在你们能明白做作和风度是如何地矛盾以及它是如何带走身体的每个动作或精神的魅力了吧，关于这一点，我们必须承认迄今为止我们几乎没怎么谈。然而，我们不能忽视这一点；因为精神比肉体更有价值，更需要陶冶和修炼。至于我们的侍臣在这方面需要怎么做，我想我们应该把伟大哲人们的训诫先放在一边，不必讨论精神美的定义或是详细讨论它的价值；相反，我们应该牢记我们的目的，简单地说，他只要是一个讲信义、正直的男人就够了。这囊括了审慎、善良、坚韧、克己精神以及其他适合这一美名的品质。我相信他自己就是一个不断向善的真正的思想家；这样的话，他除了志向本身之外，不需要什么训诫。因此，苏格拉底的断言是完全正确的，他说当某人努力想知道并理解美德的时候，那么对这个人的教导就算是有了好的成果；因为当这些人到达除了想要变得优秀而别无他求的境界时，他在学习所有必要的品质方面就都不成问题了，所以这一点我就不必再多说了。

“然而，想变得优秀，除了善良以外，我们最需要的是用知识来武装自己的头脑；尽管我知道法国人只崇尚武力，除此之外其他都不重视；所以他们不仅不重视学习，还厌恶学习，把那些有知识的人视为卑劣的人，如果称某人是学者的话就是对其极大的侮辱。”

接着，尊贵的朱利亚诺说道：

“您说的很对，这个错误在法国人当中已经持续了很长时间；但是如果昂古莱姆先生能如大家所愿，有幸继承王位的话，我相信知识会像武力一样在法国盛行，大放光辉。因为不久前我在他的宫廷的时侯，注意观察了那个君王，在我看来他除了长得英俊外，身上还散发着一股伟人的气息，还不乏优雅的仁慈，显然他甚至有能力治理一个比法国更大的国家。随后，我从许多法国和意大利绅士那里也听到了很多赞扬他的话，包括他的礼貌、他的慷慨、他的英勇以及他的宽宏大量；另外，我还听说他非常喜爱和尊重知识，并尊重所有的学者，他谴责法国人反对知识，尤其是他们有巴黎这样一座宏伟的大学，吸引着来自世界各地的人们聚集在此。”

紧接着伯爵又说道：“他年纪轻轻，极有天分，不轻易苟同于国人普遍持有的态度，真是好极了，他一定会前途无量的。并且，正如你们所说，既然臣民总是愿意效仿他们统治者的所作所为，法国人也很可能因此认识到知识的真正价值。如果他们理性地去思考，就很容易被说服，因为人们对知识的渴望是天生的，只有愚昧至极的人才会觉得这不是一件好事。

“如果我能有机会同他们或是其他持有不同意见的人交流，我会尽力说服他们，让他们知道学问对于一个人的尊严和生命有多么重要。因为这是上帝赐予人类的最神圣的礼物。我可以举出很多古代伟人的实例，他们不仅英勇善战，还学识渊博。比如，大家都知道的亚历山大，他非常敬重荷马，总是把荷马的那部《伊利亚特》放在床边。除此之外，他还十分关注亚里士多德的哲学思考，认真地去研究。亚西比德［10］则在苏格拉底的教导下，学习更多的知识，提升自己的优秀品质。恺撒的那些充满灵感的文章也恰恰证实了他对知识的追求。据说西庇阿·阿非利加努斯［11］也时常阅读色诺芬［12］的作品，其中就有赛勒斯如何成为一位出色国王的故事。我还可以找到卢库勒斯［13］、苏拉［14］、庞培［15］、布鲁特斯［16］等许多其他罗马人和希腊人的例子来说明这一点；此外，我还想说即使是汉尼拔那样骁勇的战将，一个天生凶悍、毫无人性、人神共愤的人，也是知识渊博，精通希腊语的。如果我没说错，他还曾经用希腊文写过一本书。其实我觉得说这些是多余的，因为我知道你们并不赞同法国人所谓的学文不利于尚武的观点。众所周知，战斗能激励人们奋勇向前的动力来自于人们对荣耀的渴望，但人若是为私利或达成某种目的而战就会变得一文不值，因为这种做法使他更像一个唯利是图的商人，而不是一位绅士。走入知识圣殿的人才能获得真正的荣耀，这一点是大家的共识，只有可怜虫还对此一无所知。当一个人从书中读到恺撒、亚历山大、西庇阿、汉尼拔以及其他人的丰功伟绩时，谁会不为之热血沸腾、壮志凌云，不希望在有限的生命里做出一番留名青史、光耀后世的大事业，而甘心做一个胆小如鼠的窝囊废呢？那些无法体会到知识的乐趣的人根本意识不到他们为之所努力奋斗的荣耀究竟有多伟大，他们眼中的荣耀只是一时的荣耀，局限在有限的一两代人的时间内而已。所以他们所经历的这种荣耀与那种他们不懂但却几近永恒的荣耀相比，毫无价值。既然真正的荣耀对于这些人来说并不意味着什么，所以我们有理由认为，这些人跟那些深谙荣耀本质的人相反，不愿意去追求真正的荣耀。谈到这里，可能有人会对我所说的话提出异议并给出反例：例如意大利人很有学识但是他们近年来却在战场上连连失利。这是一个事实，但是可以很肯定地说，是几个人的软弱导致了众人遭受巨大的不幸并长久地为之背负恶名，这几个人应该对我们的失败以及志气的削弱（如果没有被摧毁）负责。但是，这件事情败坏了我们在全世界的名声，比法国人对知识的无知更让我们感到惭愧；所以，对于我们不堪回首的往事，最好还是让它悄悄地流逝吧，别再谈这个主题（我非常不愿意提起的），让我们重新回到侍臣的问题上来吧。

“我希望我们的侍臣比普通学者博学多才，至少在那些我们称之为人文学科方面是这样；他应该像精通拉丁文一样精通希腊文，因为很多好作品是用希腊文写成的。他还应该熟知一些诗人、演说家和历史学家，并擅长写一些韵文和散文，尤其是用本国语来写；因为这些不仅能给他自己带来满足感，还能满足非常喜欢这些的女士们的要求。但是如果他由于忙于其他事情或是疏于学习而导致写作水平较差，那么他应羞于将自己的作品示人，以免遭人耻笑，而只将自己的作品与信任的朋友一起分享。练习写作至少对于如何评赏他人的作品会有帮助。因为对于一个没有经验的作家来说，即使他很博学，也不可能完全理解其他作家苦心孤诣所写的作品并且欣赏他们的写作风格和成就，更不能理解古代作家作品的风格技巧和细微精妙之处。此外，这些研究还会使我们的侍臣博学多闻，能言善辩（如亚里斯提卜对暴君所说），并且无论跟谁讲话都充满自信。但是，我还是希望侍臣牢牢记住一点：那就是，在我刚刚讨论过的以及其他的事情中，他应该做到谦虚低调，并且切忌不懂装懂。因为我们天生喜欢听取别人的赞美之词，这感觉犹如欣赏天籁一般；别人的赞美就像女海妖赛壬［17］的歌声，让水手深深地迷醉却最终导致海难的发生。远古时代的很多哲学家们已经意识到了这种危险性，他们著书来告诫人们如何分辨真正的朋友与谄媚的人。即便如此，我们还是会问这到底有什么用处，因为我们经常看到有很多人明明知道自己在听奉承话，却乐此不疲，反而厌恶那些说实话的人。事实上，他们觉得谄媚者说的话还不够动听，他们还要鼓励那些人多说一些让世上最能阿谀奉承的人都感到难为情的话。让那些瞎眼的傻瓜们继续犯错吧，只要保证我们的侍臣不这样颠倒黑白，不在自己不确定的情况下轻率推测就好，尤其不要犯那些错误，如果你们还记得的话，就是那晚塞萨尔提议的游戏中提到的那些蠢人蠢事。为了不犯错误，侍臣们应该反其道而行，明知他所得到的赞许是应得的，也不要公开地欣然接受或者没有任何评论地接受。相反，他应该谦虚地否认，让人总能感觉到军事才是（事实上也应该是）他的强项，而其他的成就仅仅是在他个人能力上锦上添花而已；尤其是与战士们在一起的时候，他的态度更应如此，以免他被看成是学者中的战士或者战士中的学者。这样才会如我们所说，他会避开矫揉造作，让那些普通的成就也显得很伟大。”

……

注释

［1］费德里科公爵：即费德里科二世，他于1444年接手管理乌尔比诺公国，1474年正式成为乌尔比诺大公，一直执政到1482年。——译者注

［2］萨卢斯特（Sallst）：古罗马历史学家和政治家。——译者注

［3］恺撒（Caesar）：古罗马的将军、政治家。——译者注

［4］瓦罗（Varre）：古罗马政治家、学者。——译者注

［5］埃斯基涅斯（Aeschines）：古希腊演说家。——译者注

［6］狄摩西尼（Demosthenes）：古希腊雄辩家。——译者注

［7］洛多维科伯爵提到的四个意大利语单词的意思分别是：满意的、正直的、事业、人民。

［8］卡图卢斯(Catullus)：古罗马诗人。——译者注

［9］伊格内修(Egnatius)：卡图卢斯诗中的一个人物。——译者注

［10］亚西比德(Alcibiades):古希腊雅典政客和将领。——译者注

［11］西庇阿·阿非利加努斯(Scipio Africanus, 237—183BC)：古罗马统帅。——译者注

［12］色诺芬(Xenophon, 431-355?BC)：古希腊将领、历史学家，苏格拉底的学生，率一万希腊雇佣军参加波斯王子小塞勒斯反对其兄阿塔泽克西兹二世的战争，远征到达黑海，著有《远征记》《希腊史》《回忆苏格拉底》等。——译者注

［13］卢库勒斯（Luculus, 117-56BC）：罗马将军和执政官。——译者注

［14］苏拉（Sulla, 138-187BC）：古罗马统帅、独裁者。早年参加对努米底亚国古朱古达和对北方日耳曼人的战争，并任大法官。——译者注

［15］庞培（Pompey, 106-48BC）：罗马共和国的政治家和将领之一。——译者注

［16］布鲁特斯（Brutus, 85?-42）：古罗马政治家和将军，图谋暗杀恺撒。——译者注

［17］赛壬(Sirens)：海妖，以美丽的歌声迷惑海上船员的妖怪。——译者注

宫廷侍臣的故事

（二）

“我非常赞同以上关于侍臣的讨论，我认为在那些我们称之为好的品质里，有些属于他们本人，例如自控能力、刚毅、健康以及其他让他心灵安宁的美德；另外一些则表现在其他方面并且要视其带来的效果而定，例如法律、宽容、财富等。因此，我认为正如洛多维科伯爵和费德里科伯爵所言，最优秀的侍臣要想得到真正的赞许，不仅仅局限于他自己的品质，还取决于他所做的一切和带来的结果。因为，说实话，如果贵族出身的人只具有优雅、魅力和技能，他还是不配成为一个出色的侍臣。相反，我想说，他的那些技能，如跳舞、娱乐、唱歌以及做游戏等，都是些无聊而轻佻的东西，一个拥有尊贵地位的人如果只会做这些事情，只会招来唾骂而非赞许。华丽的着装、耍手段、信誓旦旦以及类似的浪漫本应属于女人，大多数人都认为，这些东西只会使男人变得女人气，年纪轻轻就走向歧途，变得放荡风流。它带来的严重后果是，令整个意大利蒙羞，几乎没有人还存着冒险的勇气，更别说去牺牲了。比起这种无聊的为臣之道，在和平与战争年代，不知有多少值得我们去努力学习的品质，可以让我们从中受益。如果侍臣们能以我所期待的那个高尚目标作为行动指南，我个人认为，他们的行为不但不会有害，不会徒劳无功，还会带来诸多益处，并赢得无限的赞美。

“因此在我看来，一位出色的侍臣（到目前为止我们还未讨论过）的职责是通过绅士们认为他应具备的种种才能来赢得君王的信任和喜爱，从此他可以对君王说真话，让君王知道该知道的事情，并且不必担心引起君王的不快。如果他意识到君王要做一些无益的事情，就敢于站出来反对，用他那优良的品性赢得的宠信来改变君王的每一个罪恶动机并劝服他回归正途。因此，如果一位侍臣具有这些绅士所希望的美德：反应灵敏、优雅迷人、明智谨慎、学识渊博等，他就有能力让他的君王明白，一个君王应该具备正义、慷慨、宽宏、高贵以及其他美德，使其成为一个真正的统治者，并为他本人及家族赢得荣誉和崇高地位；相反，他的恶行和不道德行为也会带给他狼藉的声名和重大的损失。因此，我认为像音乐、庆典、游戏以及其他那些让人开心放松的行为只能让为臣之道锦上添花而已，而其真正的职责是鼓励和辅佐他的君主成其美德，远离罪恶。所以我们认为良好行为带来的好处包括两个主要方面：为我们的行动指明一个真正高尚的方向，以及寻找最便捷最合适的方式来实现它。所以一个优秀的侍臣应该竭尽全力，确保君主不受人欺骗，不听信谗言、诽谤及谎言，明辨善恶，爱憎分明，朝着为全民造福的方向去努力。

“我也觉得绅士们期望侍臣具备的美德和才能，正是我希望侍臣达到的目标。因为我们从当前的统治者身上发现的最大的问题就是无知和自负。这两种问题的根源在于那些神和人都为之不齿的谎言，而这对国君的影响尤甚。因为国君缺乏的正是他们所最必需的，即有人能跟他们说实话，提醒他们什么是正确的。因为那些对国君不怀好意的人是不会喜欢做这种事的，相反，他们希望国君昏庸地活着，永远不改正他所犯的错误。另外，他们还因为怕受惩罚而不敢公然地反对国君。并且，在国君的朋友中，只有小部分人能接近他，而这一小部分人又不敢像指责普通人一样指责国君，相反，他们为了得到国君的恩惠和好感，只提那些令人愉快的、有趣的建议，即便是无耻而邪恶的，他们也不在乎。这样，他们从朋友变成了谄媚者，所言所行只是为了令国君高兴，用谎话来蒙蔽国君，让国君对周围的一切包括他自己都一无所知，从而获得更多的好处。让一个不知情的人不断地欺骗自己，可以说是世上最大最可怕的欺骗。

“这样做的结果就是国君永远听不到真话，滥用职权，寻欢作乐，他们的思想逐步堕落（觉得自己受人尊崇，周围尽是别人敬畏和赞扬的话语，没有半点责备和反驳之声），渐渐从无知走向了极度的自负。结果，他们变得再也听不进任何人的建议和意见，而且还会觉得统治国家非常简单，不需要任何手段或是训练，只需要暴力就足矣。因此他们一心只想着如何维护权力，并相信真正的快乐就是得到自己想要的一切。所以，我们看到很多排斥理性和正义的国君，因为他们觉得这些会约束他们的欲望，成为束缚他们的枷锁，进而剥夺他们统治别人的快感和满足感；他们认为如果听从责任和荣誉的召唤，他们的权力就不再至高无上，听别人摆布的国君不是真正的国君。于是他们开始变得妄自尊大、不可一世、专横无理、着装华丽、珠光宝气，并很少在公共场合露面，企图在国民中树立威信，被奉为神明。但是，在我看来，这些国君很像是去年在罗马阿贡广场的节日庆祝会上的那些巨大雕像，表面看上去像是凯旋的伟人和马匹，其实里面塞满了破布和稻草。事实上，上面所说的那种国君比这雕像更糟糕，因为这些巨大的雕像是由于它们自身的重量才能高高屹立，不过，内部的严重失衡及其与底座的比例失调，使其随时可能倒下；而这些统治者的倒台源自他们自身以及一个错误，从而导致满盘皆输。那个错误就是无知，他们觉得自己永远不会犯错误，觉得自己的权力来源于自己的智慧，所以不遗余力地去滥用权力，并一有机会就不择手段地去霸占更多的领地。

“要是他们意识到了自己的职责，就会做他们应该做的事，以一种与现在截然不同的方式来治理国家。因为他们会意识到当被统治者比统治者还要更英明的时候，情况是多么糟糕。你也许认为不懂弹琴、跳舞或是骑马没有什么大不了；然而，如果一个人不懂音乐，会感觉没有面子和羞愧，因而不敢在公共场合唱歌，不懂跳舞则不敢跳舞，马术不精则不敢骑马。可是，如果一个国君不知道如何统治一个国家就没这么简单了，这会引发罪恶、死亡、破坏、战火甚至是毁灭，可以说是全民的灭顶之灾。但是，一些统治者尽管对如何治理国家一无所知，还是厚颜无耻地试图统治整个世界而非眼前的一小班人马，因为他位高权重，所有的目光都投向他，从此，他们的最重大和最细小的错误都会被大家看个清清楚楚。

……

“因此，我认为既然如今的统治者生活如此穷奢极欲，又无知狂妄，就很难让他们认清真理、树立美德。既然有人通过谎言、奉承以及其他恶劣的手段获得了国君的青睐，侍臣也可以通过洛多维科伯爵和费得里科伯爵所传授的高贵品质轻易地获得国君对他的喜爱，从而可以自由地找国君讨论问题。如果他可以轻而易举地达到这个目的，他日后就可以及时把每一件事情的真相都告知国君。而且，他还可以逐渐将美德灌输给国君，让国君懂得自律、刚毅、正义和节制，并让试图摆脱堕落的他在经历一番努力之后，初次品尝到苦涩后的一丝甘甜。从而使他意识到罪恶的行为是有害的，会让人恶名远播，而美德则让人受益无穷，得到广泛赞誉。侍臣还可以列举些例子来激励国君以美德治理天下，那些著名的首领以及那些被人们做成雕像的古代伟人就是很好的榜样，人们习惯用铜、大理石，有时也用黄金来铸造他们的雕像，立于广场之上，表彰他们的丰功伟绩，同时也鼓励其他人向他们学习，争取同样的荣耀。

“这样，侍臣就可以引导国君走向美德之路，虽然道路崎岖，但有了阴凉的树荫和美丽的鲜花做点缀，即使国君的耐性不佳，也不会在这条艰难的道路上感到沉闷；或者偶尔配上音乐、比武、马匹，再配上诗歌或爱情的对话，以及那些绅士建议的所有方法，就会确保国君渐渐被这些简单的快乐所吸引。在此过程中，如我所说的，在陪伴君王散心时要一再强调道德的重要性，这样，就在潜移默化中改变他，正如一个精明的医生总是会让一个因生病而虚弱的孩子在吃下苦药前尝到他悄悄抹在杯沿上的甜甜液体。这样，在快乐的掩盖下，无论什么时候，什么地方，或是什么工作，侍臣总能顺利地达到目的，为此这个侍臣应该获得更多的赞美和奖励。因为世上没有比拥有一个明智的国君更好的事，当然也没有比遇到一个罪恶的国君更可怕的事；同样，如果一个侍臣利用礼貌优雅的举止和高贵的身份去做邪恶的事情，极力向自己的国君谄媚并使国君偏离美德之路，走向邪恶，那么无论对这个侍臣施以多残酷的惩罚都不为过。原因在于，他的行为就像在公共水井里投毒一样有害，毒害的可不仅仅是一个人呀。”

奥塔维亚诺先生陷入了沉默，似乎不愿意再说下去了。但是加斯帕雷阁下说道：

“奥塔维亚诺先生，我并不认为国君可以在侍臣的引导下学会那些仁慈、自制以及其他美德，相反，我觉得他们所拥有的美德是大自然和上帝赋予的。你会发现世上没有人坏到愿意承认自己就是邪恶、坏心肠、放纵或是不正义的。相反，每一个人无论有多么邪恶，都希望被视为是正直的、有自制力的以及善良的；所以如果美德可以通过学习获得，情形就会大不相同了。一个人如果因为缺乏学习而无知是无须感到羞愧的，但是如果天生就缺乏某些东西，当然会感觉到羞耻。所以，每个人都极力掩饰自己思想上或是身体上的缺陷，比如失明、跛足或残疾等丑陋的一面。因为即使把这些缺陷归结为大自然的力量，也没有人希望拥有它，这种天生的缺陷就像是大自然有意给他们烙上的邪恶烙印。我的这个想法和厄毗米修斯［1］讲述的故事是一致的，他不知道该怎样把大自然的天分分配给众人，以至于分给人类的天分比其他生物要少得多；因此普罗米修斯才从弥涅耳瓦［2］和伏尔坎［3］那里偷走了让人类生存下去的智慧和知识。但是人们还是缺乏公民道德和精神法规，但是这些知识都被关在奥林匹斯山上朱庇特的城堡里，并且守护森严，使得普罗米修斯不敢靠近。因此，朱庇特由于同情人类（因为公民道德的缺失使得他们无力反抗野兽的攻击）就派墨丘利［4］来到人间，教人们学会正义和自尊，使得城市更美好，人民更团结。他认为这些美德无法像分配其他天赋一样分配给人类，只能是让其中一人学会（就像治病一样），然后逐渐传授给周围的每一个人。他依法铲除了那些没有正义之心也不知羞耻的人，以儆效尤。所以啊，奥塔维亚诺先生，你看，这些美德是上帝赋予人类的，是学不会的，他们来源于大自然。”

奥塔维亚诺先生笑着说道：

“所以加斯帕雷阁下，你已经看到，人们对于他们自己的判断力感到很不满意且执迷不悟，所以人们曾经试图驯服大自然中的野兽、熊、狼以及狮子，并希望用同样的方法让一只可爱的小鸟按照他们的意愿飞翔，然后主动地飞离森林，放弃自由，飞进鸟笼被囚禁起来，但是无论人们怎么勤奋和钻研，也始终找不到既能让他们自己受益又能提高自己思想的办法。所以在我看来，这就像是医生埋头钻研治愈指甲疼痛和婴儿皮疹的方法，而忽视了治愈发热、胸膜炎和其他重病的方法；我们都会认为这样做是荒谬的。因此，我认为伦理道德不是完全来自天性，因为没有什么东西会自然地往相反方向发展，比如石头，即便你把石头往天上扔一万次，石头也不会自己飞向天空。所以就像石头受重力作用的影响一样，一个人有道德是很自然的事情，不会天生就喜欢邪恶。反之，如果我们天生就是邪恶的，那么我们永远不会变成正义的；所以为一个人天生就有的缺陷而惩罚某人就是愚不可及的。如果考虑到一个罪犯在未来可能不再犯罪，也不会导致其他人的效仿，而不追究一个罪犯所犯下的罪行（事情已经发生了，无法挽回），从法律角度来讲，就是犯了大错。由此可见，法律认为美德是可以学习的，这是千真万确的；我们从降生的那天起就有能力学习美德或是罪恶，因此我们通过自己的选择，做善事或是做坏事，变成了善良的人或是罪恶的人。先去实践善与恶，然后才成为好人或是坏人。而我们天生所具有的那些品质却正相反，是先有了基础，然后去实践。因为首先要具有看、听或是感知的能力，才可以看到、听见或感受到。当然，许多本领也是通过学习得到加强的。因此，好老师不仅教学生知识，还要教他们文明而正确的举止，包括用餐、饮酒、交谈、走路，等等。

“因此，无论是在技巧、技能还是美德方面，我们都非常需要一位好老师。通过他的教诲和指导，唤醒深埋在我们灵魂深处的美德的种子。好老师就像一位尽职的农夫，精心地培育美德的种子，清理欲望的荆棘和野草，以免束缚我们的思维，最终让美德的种子开花、结果，就如我们所期待的那样。这样，朱庇特给予人们的正义和自尊就会永驻每个人的心间。但是，正如再强健的身体在为目标而努力的时候也可能出现问题一样，美德的潜力虽然已经在我们的灵魂中生根，仍需要通过教育来让它发芽。因为如果要将美德的潜力付诸实践并变成真正的善行，我认为，不能仅仅依靠本性的力量，还需要不断的实践和理性的思考，从而净化和启迪人们的灵魂，揭去无知的面纱，让人们能轻易地辨明是非的能力，避免犯错。这样，美德就类似谨慎和明辨是非的能力，罪恶则类似轻率和无知。原因在于，人们不是故意地选择罪恶，只是被一些假象所迷惑。”

这时加斯帕雷阁下回答道：“现在很多人明知自己做的事情是错误的，但仍然在做；就像那些小偷和杀人犯，原因在于他们只想到当下的快感，而忘记未来可怕的惩罚。”

奥塔维亚诺先生说道：“真正的快乐与善行结伴，而真正的痛苦与邪恶为伍；当他们对虚假的快乐信以为真，却对真正的痛苦不以为然的时候，他们是在欺骗自己。所以他们虚假的快乐只能换来真正的痛苦。因此，我们要学习明辨是非的技巧，还要学习美德，让我们选择真正的善行，而非貌似如此的行为，这将令我们的人生受益无穷，因为它使我们远离了无知这个万恶之源。”

这个时侯，皮埃特罗·贝博说道：“奥塔维亚诺先生，我不明白，为什么加斯帕雷阁下要将所有的罪恶之源归于无知，因为人们犯罪的时候都几乎意识不到自己的行为，也没有考虑到什么是真正的快乐和痛苦的问题，所以谈不上是在欺骗自己。并且可以肯定，即使是那些一时情绪失控的人也进行过逻辑和理性的判断，对于他们所犯的罪恶的本质也是非常清楚的。他们用自己的理性来抵制欲望，从而导致了快乐和痛苦与判断之间的矛盾。最终，欲望还是战胜了理性，就像是一艘一时抵御了风暴的船，最终还是被巨浪击垮，锚和绳索都不复存在，舵和指南针也失去了作用，任由自己在暴风雨中颠簸。所以那些情绪失控的人在犯下愚蠢的错误时也是带着一丝懊悔，几分自责的。因为如果他们不知道自己所做的事情是罪恶的，他们就不会自责了。相反，如果理性未做任何抗争，他们就将完全受欲望摆布，这样一来就不是无节制，而是纯粹的放纵了。当然，这样更糟糕。因为在无法自控的情况下，至少理性也起了一点作用，从而使得他们没有犯下更为可怕的罪恶；就像自制也只是一个不尽完美的美德，因为你毕竟还是受到了情绪的影响。因此，我认为，不能把人们无法自控而犯下的愚蠢错误与无知混为一谈，或把明知故犯叫做无心之过。”

“是啊”，奥塔维亚诺先生回答道，“你的辩论很精彩。但是我并不认为完全正确。虽然在难以自控的罪行面前，他们曾经犹豫，也确实经历过理性与欲望的斗争，知道了什么是邪恶，但是由于缺乏完备的知识，他们并没有完全理解邪恶。他们对邪恶的理解只是一个模糊的、并非确定的概念，所以他们放任了情绪而忽视了理智。如果他们拥有了真正的知识，毫无疑问他们就不会犯错误。因为无知，所以理性总是无法战胜欲望，而真正的知识永远不会输给情绪，因为情绪起源于身体而不是心灵。如果情绪受理性的合理支配和控制，它们就会成为美德，相反，就会变成邪念。然而，如果理性的本质属性没有受到无知的影响，它就会非常具有影响力，总是使人的感觉服从于它，从而通过非凡的方式和手段来达到目的。如此，虽然一个人的器官、神经和骨骼都没有理性，但是当大脑开动起来的时侯，就好像思想舞动着缰绳，刺激我们的器官，使我们身体的其他部位做好了准备：做出双脚跑、双手握拳或者大脑提示的其他动作。这种事很常见，比如有人在不知情的情况下吃了味道很好，但实际上非常恶心又令人作呕的东西；当他发现了真实的情况，便会心生厌恶、不安，继而整个身体对他的判断迅速做出反应，然后他就开始呕吐。”

奥塔维亚诺先生还想继续说下去，但尊贵的朱利亚诺打断了他，插嘴说道：“如果我没有听错，你是说自制并非完美的美德，因为它受情绪的影响。然而，在我看来，当理性和欲望在思想中发生冲突的时候，那种经过与理性的斗争而最终服从于理性的美德，与那种没有跟欲望或情绪较量就胜出的美德相比，前者是更加完美的。而后者克制邪念并非是出于自身的美德，而是因为他没有这样的意愿。”

于是奥塔维亚诺说道：“你认为谁更让人敬佩：一个冒着危险和敌人正面交战，得胜而归的指挥官，还是一个运用技能和知识将敌人拖垮，不用冒险和流血的代价就取得胜利的那个？”

尊贵的朱利亚诺回答道：“如果不是因为敌人的愚蠢而导致他的必然胜利的话，当然是那个懂得避险又能取胜的指挥官更值得尊敬。”

“你说得很对，”奥塔维亚诺先生说道，“所以我想对你说，如果将自我控制能力比作是一个作战勇猛，克服了巨大的困难和危险，面对强敌仍可取胜的指挥官的话，那种节制的心态就可比做是那个没有遭遇抵抗就获胜的指挥官；因为后者就像内战时期的优秀统帅那样，他们征服而且完全扑灭了心灵的欲火，打败了内心所有蠢蠢欲动的敌人，使之彻底地回归理性。这样，这种美德在没有对心灵使用任何暴力的情况下，以巨大的说服力引导心灵走上正途，使之变得平静而安详，进而使一切都趋于和谐，得到宁静和稳定；于是，人们在一切事物中都会完全服从理性，顺从地追随理性，就像一只羊羔总是跟随在母亲的身边：母亲停下脚步，它也跟着停下脚步，母亲前进，它也跟着前进。因此，这种节制的美德才是完美的，对于统治者来说尤其重要，因为它还可以引发更多的美德。”

然后塞萨尔·贡萨加说道：“嗯，我不知道节制能为一位君王带来什么其他的美德，如果真如你所说，节制能带走人的所有情绪，我倒认为它适合一个隐士或者修道士；我想不出它适合一个君王的理由，让一个有宏图大志、不拘一格、骁勇无比等军事才能的君王，在无论什么情况下，都不能表现出愤怒、憎恨，或是仁慈、藐视、渴望等情绪。如果这样，他如何在他的人民或军队中树立权威呢？”

奥塔维亚诺先生回答道：“我并没有说节制必然完全带走或根除一个人心灵中的各种情绪，也没有说这样做会带来什么好处，因为即使在那些情绪中，还是会有一些好的方面。它所起的作用是帮助情绪中的那些不正当行为或者与正当行为背道而驰的行为和理性相呼应。所以为了避免矛盾就根除那些情绪是不正确的；这就好比通过立法禁酒的方式来控制醉酒，或者因为人们在跑步的时候偶尔会摔跤就禁止人们跑步一样。人在训练马的时候，他不会让马停止奔跑、跳跃，但在骑手的控制下，马会在合适的时间停下来。有些情绪在受到节制时会有助于美德的发展，例如愤怒会促成坚毅，对邪恶之人的憎恨会促成正义，其他情绪也会促成别的美德。假如它们一起消亡，就会使理性变得虚弱无力而失去任何效力，就好像是一个在大风过后平静下来的船长。所以，塞萨尔，如果我说平静能促成很多其他的美德，请不要那么惊讶；因为当一个人的心灵和这种和谐相一致的时候，理性就使之欣然接受真正的坚毅，而这种坚毅将使之英勇无比、战无不胜，从而远离人类的痛苦。正义也是一样的，因为它是谦逊善良的真正朋友，也是所有美德中的王者，它不仅告诉我们应该做什么，也告诉我们应该远离错误。正义是完美无缺的，其他美德都通过它得以实现，它不仅让正义的人受益，也让其他人受益。就像人们所说的那样，没有正义，朱庇特就不能很好地统治他的王国。此外还要有宽宏大量的美德，它会提升所有的美德，尽管它不能独立存在，因为缺少其他美德的人不可能是宽宏大量的。在这些好品质的指引下，人们的美德又多了一份审慎，从而使人做出正确的判断。在这条让人欣慰的美德链上还有宽容、慷慨、对荣誉的渴望、温顺、魅力、和蔼可亲和其他很多品质，由于时间的关系就不一一列举了。但是，如果我们的侍臣表现得就像我们所说的那样，他就会发现，在他辅佐的君王心中，美德变得越发枝繁叶茂，而且每天都将看到比世上任何花园里的鲜花和果实都更加让人欣喜的硕果。侍臣自己也将体验到极大的满足感，他告诉自己他给予君王的不是那些傻瓜们给予的东西，比如说金银之类的礼品、花瓶、服装（这些东西君王多的是，而送礼的人又没有多少），而是所有人类的美德中最珍贵的美德：治理国家的好方式和好方法。仅此就足以使人们幸福，使世界回到传说中撒敦［5］统治时期曾经有过的黄金时代。”

……

接着，加斯帕雷阁下说道：“我记得各位绅士们在讨论一个侍臣应具有的能力的时候，其中一点是他要招人喜爱。但是，总结一下谈过的话题，我们可以得出这样的结论：一个侍臣必须通过自己的美德和威望来影响他的君王，然而有威望的人一定是位年长者，因为智慧都是随着年龄而增长的，尤其是在经验方面。所以我不明白，一个人如果年事已高是否还谈得上招人喜爱呢？就像今天晚上所说的那样，对一位长者来说，招人喜爱实在是毫无意义，因为女人喜欢的那种属于年轻人的彬彬有礼、幽默感和文雅在一位老者的身上会变得荒唐可笑，对此有些女人会心生厌恶，所有人都会去嘲弄那些沉迷于此的人。因此，如果你们所说的亚里士多德是位老臣，并且打算像年轻的爱侣们一样大谈爱情的话（就像我们亲眼看到过的那些），我恐怕他会忘记对君王的指导，毫无疑问孩子们也会在背后取笑他，而女人们除了嘲笑他之外，对他毫无兴趣。”

奥塔维亚诺回答道：“如果这位老臣身上具有所有的美德，即使他变老，我也认为他不应该被剥夺爱的权利。”

“正相反，”加斯帕雷阁下反驳道，“剥夺他的这种权利，我认为会给他带来另一种完美，使他生活得更快乐，而没有不幸和痛苦。”

于是皮埃特罗·贝博补充说道：“加斯帕雷阁下，难道你忘了前几天晚上奥塔维亚诺先生提议的那个爱情游戏了，虽然他对爱情谈不上了解，他显然很了解有些人把跟他们的女人生气、吵架和折磨都看作是快乐的这种事，还有人向他请教这种快乐的原因来着。因此，如果我们的侍臣陷入那种愉悦的爱情之中，即使年纪很大，他也不会经历任何的痛苦和烦恼。另外，我们心中的那个聪明人也不会欺骗自己，认为凡是适合年轻人做的事情都同样适合于他。即便他要去爱，也肯定会以不给他带来指责，只为他赢得赞美和幸福的方式来进行，他会远离烦恼的困扰，而这些是年轻人都很难以做到的。所以他不会忽视对君王的指导，更不会让孩子们嘲笑。”

于是公爵夫人说道：“皮埃特罗，在今天晚上的讨论中我很高兴听你也说上几句，但是现在我们更加有信心让你说话，给我们阐明这种恰到好处、又不会引发任何指责或不满的爱情；显然这是体现在侍臣身上的最有用、最重要的天赋之一。所以我请求你，告诉我们你对此所知道的一切。”

皮埃特罗笑着回答道：“夫人，我不希望我刚才支持老年人也有权利去爱的话让在座的女士们认为我自己很老，所以还是把这个任务交给别人吧。”

伯爵夫人回答道：“你还年轻，但是你不能否认你有长者的智慧。所以继续给我们讲解吧，不要制造更多的借口。”

于是皮埃特罗·贝博回答道：“说实话，夫人，如果我确实必须继续谈论这个话题，我就必须向拉维乃罗的朋友，一个隐居的修道士，寻求建议。”

听到这里，伊米莉亚夫人好像有些生气，大声说道：

“皮埃特罗，我们当中没有人像你那样不服从命令。因此，如果伯爵夫人要惩罚你也是对的。”

皮埃特罗仍然面带微笑地说道：

“夫人，行行好，不要生我的气，我说就是了。”

“好吧。”伊米莉亚回答道。

皮埃特罗·贝博沉默了一会儿后，他稍作调整，好像有什么重要的事情宣布似的，开始说了起来：

“先生们，为了说明老年人不仅能毫无顾忌地去爱而且有时还能比年轻人爱得更加幸福，我有必要先说明什么是爱，以及爱侣们经历的幸福的本质。我请求你们认真地听，因为我希望能让你们认识到每个人都有爱的权利，即使他比莫雷罗年长十五岁或二十岁。”

一阵笑声过后，他继续说道：

“古代哲学家们给爱下的定义是一种对美的渴求；既然这种渴求必须是为人们所熟知的事物，必然是先有这种事物，后有渴求，而渴求的本质就是追求美好的事物，但是由于其本身也是盲目的，所以不能认识到什么是美好的事物。因此自然本身规定每一种渴求的能力，或者说欲望，都应该同时伴有一种认知能力或者说是理解力。在人类心灵深处，有三种能力帮助我们理解和感知事物：它们是感觉、理性思维和智慧。感觉是从感官的欲求开始的，或者说是从人类与动物共通的那种欲求开始的；理智则是通过理性的选择，严格来说是人所特有的；而智慧使得人类变成完美的天使，通过单纯的意愿来表现对事物的渴求。因此，感官的欲求只渴望那些感官可以感知的东西，而人类的意愿则是在思考那些通过智慧可被理解的精神事物时才会得到满足。于是，人类天生就有理性而且被置于兽性和纯美精神这两个极端之间，可以选择追随感觉，也可以追随智慧，人的欲求在这两个方向不断做出选择。人们可以选择其中一种方式来追求美，那就是，所有的自然天成或人工创造出来的充满和谐的事物。

“但是我现在要谈的美是人身上尤其是脸部的那种美，可以激发我们热切的爱的那种美。我们要说的是，这种美是一种神圣的精华的汇集，就像是阳光普照万物，却偏偏极力展示它的美，那张面容看起来是那样的匀称，明暗色彩和谐、轮廓分明。这种美以其令人赞叹的壮丽和优雅装扮着自己，并使之熠熠发光，好像耀眼的阳光折射在镶嵌着宝石的金光闪闪的花瓶上。于是它吸引了人们的目光，一旦进入人们的视线，就会在人的心灵深处留下深刻的印象，并且不时地以其自身的魅力，伴以燃烧的激情和欲望来震撼、愉悦人们的心灵。这样，人们的思想里就有了对美的渴求，因为它认为这种美是美妙的，如果人的思想本身愿意跟随自己的感知，那么人的头脑里就形成了最严重的错误判断，即承载美的身体是美丽的主因，所以，欣赏这种美就必须尽可能地与之亲密接触。但这是错误的，任何想通过拥有身体而欣赏美的人都是在欺骗自己，因为他们不是被理性的选择而获得的真正认知所感动，而是由感官的欲望导致的错觉。因此，接下来的快乐也必定是虚假的、骗人的。所以，那些用所爱的女人来满足其不纯洁欲望的人都将遭遇两个恶果中的一个：要么在他们满足了欲望后，就开始失去兴趣甚至是开始憎恨他们的爱人，就好像是他的欲望开始悔恨自己的错误，认识到它被错误的感知判断所骗，使它相信那种邪恶是美好的；要么他们仍然困扰于相同的贪念与欲望，因为他们实际上并没有达到他们所追求的目的。不可否认，由于目光短浅，他们误以为自己正经历着快乐，就好像一个病人梦见他自己在干净的喷泉边喝水。然而，他们既没有得到片刻的安宁，也没有得到满足，这恰恰是欲望和占有的必然结果。因为他们看到相似的情况，他们不久就再一次经历了毫无羁绊的欲望，和以前一样，在相同的激情过后他们再一次发现自己对希望完全占有的东西有一种无法控制的、狂热的渴望。因此，这类恋人总是最不快乐的；他们或者由于从来没有得到他们渴望得到的东西，从而引起极大的痛苦，或者即便他们确实得到了他们所渴望得到的东西，也会发现自己并不快乐甚至是更糟。在他们的这种爱情的开始和过程中，除了给彼此带来悲伤、痛苦、难过、忧虑和付出之外别无他物；这样的爱侣必然表现出黯然沮丧、叹息不已、哭哭啼啼、哀痛悲伤、少言寡语甚至想一死了之。”

“因此我们看到感知是这种精神颓废的主要原因；这种情况多发生在人们年轻的时侯，他们受到肉体欲望的诱惑，不断地削弱人类理性的力量，使灵魂轻易地受制于欲望。既然心灵已经坠落到世俗的地狱，无法进行精神的思考，那么思想本身就不能清楚地发现真相，继而无法履行操控身体的职责。所以为了明白事情的真相，思想必须借助感知来形成自己的第一概念。之后它才会相信通过感知获取的信息，然后考虑并信任这些信息，尤其是当这些信息强迫心灵接受的时候；但是感知具有欺骗性，从而使它们提供给心灵的信息充满了错误和不实。因此，年轻人总是沉迷于这种与理性完全背道而驰的感性之恋，进而导致他们不能享受爱情赐予真正的理性皈依者们的祝福和益处；他们在爱情中得到的快乐和没有理性的动物是一样的，尽管动物遭遇的痛苦比人类大得多。在我坚信如此的前提下，我相信那些年纪大而成熟的恋人的经历会恰恰相反；对他们来说，思想已经不再屈膝于肉体，因为他们天生的激情已经开始冷却。即便他们被美激起了渴望，也会受到理性的指引，那么他们就不会受骗，从而完全拥有他们深爱的美。这种拥有给他们带来的都是好的结果，因为美是善良的，对美的真正热爱也是美好的、神圣的，而且总是给那些用理性的缰绳来控制感官的罪恶的人们带来好处。这就是年长者比年轻人更能轻而易举做到的事。

“所以说老年人比年轻人更能幸福地、无可指责地去恋爱，不无道理，当然，我们所谓的老年人指的不是那些年迈的或者说身体器官已经衰退，思想已经不能通过器官来行使功能的人，而是指那些智力仍然处于盛年的人。另外我还必须加上这一点：也就是在我看来，感性之恋在每一个年龄段都是不可取的，但是对年轻人来说，是可以原谅的，甚至在某种角度上说也是允许的。虽然这种恋情就像上面提到的那样，给人们带来的是苦恼、危险、付出和不幸，但是为了赢得他们心爱的女人的爱，有些行为是高尚的；虽然这些行为带来的并不是一个很好的结果，但是它们本身是好的。他们从苦涩里挤榨出一点点甘甜，从挫折中吸取教训，知道自己爱的方式有误。所以，我认为那些克制欲望和迷恋，以理性的方式去恋爱的年轻人是真正崇高的，但我也理解那些因为人性的弱点而被感性之恋所征服的年轻人，但前提是，他们当时应该表现得有风度、有礼貌、又值得尊敬，表现出了那些绅士们所提到的其他品质，并且在他们不再年轻的时候，完全舍弃这种做法，摒除感性之欲，并视之为通向真爱的第一个台阶。但是对于那些年迈时还任由激情燃烧他们冷酷的心、令强烈的理性屈服于虚弱的感官之欲的人来说，无论怎样责备都不算过分；这些不知廉耻的家伙就像缺乏理性的动物中的一员，一个彻头彻尾的傻瓜，因为感性之恋的观念和方式与成熟的男人是完全不相称的。”

贝博停顿了一下，好像要休息的样子；正当每个人都沉默的时候，来自奥托纳的莫雷罗先生说道：

“如果一个长者比很多年轻人都强壮，精力更旺盛，而且更英俊，那么你为什么不希望他像年轻人那样去恋爱呢？”

听到这个，伯爵夫人笑着说道：

“如果恋爱对年轻人来说是一次如此不幸的经历，那么莫雷罗先生，为什么你还想要老年人也去经历同样的不幸呢？如果你也像这些先生所说的那样老了，你就不会说这么多老人们的坏话了。”

莫雷罗先生回答道：“在我看来，说老人坏话的似乎是皮埃特罗·贝博，因为他希望他们以我不能理解的方式去恋爱。同时我也认为，如此受他褒奖的美竟然不包括躯体的美，简直像是一个神话。”

“莫雷罗先生，”洛多维科伯爵问道，“你相信美像皮埃特罗·贝博说的一样好吗？”

“我当然不相信，”莫雷罗回答道，“相反，我记得我曾经见过很多邪恶、冷酷、恶毒的美女；在我看来，事情往往如此，因为美丽使她们骄傲，傲慢使她们冷酷。”

洛多维科伯爵笑着回答道：“无可置疑，你觉得她们对你冷酷是因为她们没有给予你想要的东西。还是让皮埃特罗·贝博教教你，老年人应该怎样去渴求美，他们应该从女人那里得到什么，他们应该怎样得到满足；如果你记得这些，你就会发现她们既不骄傲，也不冷酷，而且她们还会给予你想要的。”

这番话让莫雷罗很恼火，于是他反驳道：

“我不想知道和我无关之事。还是让别人告诉你，身体不如老人强壮、精力没有老人充沛的年轻人应该怎样追求这种美吧。”

于是，为了让莫雷罗先生平静下来，也为了转变一下话题，费德里科在洛多维科伯爵还没回答之前，插嘴说道：

“也许莫雷罗先生所说的‘美不总是好的’这句话并不是完全错误的，因为女人的美经常引起很多邪恶、憎恶、战争、死亡和毁灭，例如特洛伊的毁灭就清晰地证明了这一点。大多数美丽的女人不是骄傲冷酷，就是之前所说的不贞洁。但是对此，莫雷罗先生并不认为是什么过错。还有很多邪恶的男人也被赋予了英俊的外表，好像大自然如此安排就是为了让他们能更好地去行骗，或是为了让他们那令人愉悦的外貌成为隐藏鱼钩的饵。”

这时，皮埃特罗·贝博说道：“不要相信美不总是好的这种谎言。”

为了回到原来的话题，洛多维科伯爵插嘴说道：

“既然莫雷罗对和自己有很大关系的事情并不感兴趣，那就告诉我吧，向我说一说老年人怎样才可以赢得爱情的幸福；只要我可以从中受益，我并不担心自己被别人看作是个老头。”

皮埃特罗笑着说：“首先我想纠正一下这些绅士们所犯的错误，然后再满足你的要求。”

于是他继续说道：

“先生们，美是一种神圣的东西，我不希望我们中的任何人因对此口出恶言亵渎神圣而惹怒神明。作为一个给莫雷罗和费德里科先生的警告，以防他们会像那些藐视美的人们一样受到惩罚，从而像斯泰西科拉斯［6］那样双目失明，我坚持认为美来源于上帝，它就像是一个圆，圆心就是善良。正如没有圆心就没有圆一样，一个人没有善良也就没有美。所以，邪恶的灵魂依附在一个美丽的身体上是非常罕见的，而外表美也正是内心善良的一种真正表现。这种美实际上以不同的程度体现在人的身体上，是识别灵魂的一种标志，好比是树木上盛开的鲜花之美将印证收获时的水果之美一样。人类的身体也一样，对此，我们还可以从相学家们根据人的容貌来判断人的性格甚至是他的思想这件事上看得出来。甚至是在动物的身上也可以看到，它们的思想如何影响着身体并且在容貌上有所反映。我们是如何清晰地从一头狮子、一匹马或者一只鹰的面部发现它们愤怒、凶残和傲慢的本性；又如何从绵羊和鸽子那里发现纯洁和单纯，从狐狸和狼那里看到奸邪和狡诈，而且几乎所有的动物也一样，想想这些，我们就不难理解这一点。

“因此大体来说，丑陋的事物是邪恶的，美丽的事物是美好的。可以说，美就是人们渴望的、令人轻松愉快又魅力十足的美好事物的外表，而丑陋就是黑暗的、令人不快又难受的邪恶事物的外表。无论你研究什么事物，你都会发现那些美好而有益的东西总是被赋予了美。想一想万物的神奇的结构吧，它是上帝为了所有生灵的健康和生存而创造的。无尽的苍穹点缀着众多星星：而位于中心的地球被无数天体簇拥在中间；太阳照亮周围的万物，在冬天照到最低纬度后又重新升起；月球的光辉来自于太阳，随着距离太阳的远近不断变化；而其他五大星球在各自的轨迹上有规律地运动着。所有这一切都按照大自然的规律和谐存在并互相影响，但是如果稍有偏离，它们就将不复存在，宇宙也因此而崩溃。此外，它们的美和魅力让人们无法想象有什么东西可以与之媲美。再来想想人体的构造，我们可称之为一个小宇宙。我们会发现人类的身体是造物主精心设计而非偶然为之的产物；我们的整体形式非常美妙，使我们很难弄清楚，到底是因为有用还是因为优美才给予了人类外貌和身体的不同部分，包括眼睛、鼻子、嘴巴、耳朵、胳膊和胸部。动物也一样。想一想鸟类的羽毛、树枝上的叶子，它们的存在都是大自然所赋予的，也都是极其精美的。除了自然界，现在我们来谈谈人类的艺术。对于一艘船来说，船头、船体、船板、船帆、船桅、船舵、船桨以及船锚和绳索，哪些是必需的？所有的这些东西都是如此动人，无论谁看见它们，都会觉得它们的存在不仅因为有用还因为好看。再如，支柱和横梁支撑着雄伟的教堂和宫殿，它们不仅赏心悦目，还是建筑不可或缺的部分。当人类最初在造房子或教堂时使用中间的屋脊并非是用来装饰建筑物，而是为了让雨水从两边顺利地流下；但是，我还得说，事物的用途和美观同样重要，所以即使在没有雨水和冰雹的地区建造教堂，屋脊的设计也是必不可少的，否则会使建筑丧失应有的庄严和美感。

“所以，一提到美丽的事物，甚至是世界本身，就意味着最高的赞美。我们提起这些就忍不住要赞美：美丽的天空、美丽的大地、美丽的海洋、美丽的河流、美丽的乡村、美丽的森林、树木、花园；或者美丽的城市、教堂、房子、军队。简而言之，这种优雅而神圣的美是万物最高超的修饰；从某种角度上，好就等同于美，尤其是人的身体。在我看来，身体美的最大成因是心灵美，因为它有一种超自然的美，使它接触到的一切事物都变得华丽而可爱，美丽心灵也一定会找一个适合她栖息的美丽身体。因此，当美以其无上的力量统治物质世界，以其绚丽的光芒驱走身体的黑暗的时候，美才是心灵的最终战利品。因此，我们一定不要说是美让女人们骄傲、冷酷，尽管莫雷罗先生可能是这样认为的；我们也不应该把那些因为男人无节制的欲望而引起的憎恶、死亡和毁灭都强加于美丽的女人。我不否认这个世界上有不贞洁的漂亮女人，但并不是她们的美使她们变成这个样子；相反，正是因为美和善之间的必然联系，她们的美才使她们远离恶行，引领其走上善行之路。但是有时候，由于外界的恶意驱使、爱人的不停挑唆、礼物、贫穷、希望、欺骗、恐惧以及数不清的其他原因，美丽善良的女人没能保持那份坚定，铸成大错；英俊的男人也是一样，因为这样或那样的原因，变得邪恶。”

塞萨尔接着评论说：“如果加斯帕雷阁下昨天的断言不假，那么毫无疑问美丽的女人比丑陋的女人更加贞洁。”

“我断言过什么啊？”加斯帕雷阁下问道。

“如果我没记错的话，”塞萨尔回答道，“你说过被追求的女人总是喜欢拒绝追求者，而没人追求的女人却会主动去追求别人。与丑女相比，美女必然有更多的追求者；这样一来，美女经常拒绝别人，而丑女却因为没有追求者而主动出击，美女就比丑女更显贞洁了。”

贝博微笑着说：“这个争论没有答案。”

然后他又补充说道：“就像其他的感官一样，我们的视觉也有受骗的时候，把一张不美丽的脸看成是美丽的，这是常有的事。比如说，有些女人不时在眼神中和表情里表现出诱惑的、挑逗式的无礼，许多人认为这些特点是令人愉悦的，视其为美，因为这让他们有机会得到他们想要的。但是，事实上这仅仅是俗艳的轻率行为，丝毫配不上如此令人尊重而神圣的称呼。”

皮埃特罗·贝博随后陷入了沉默之中，但是大家要他再多讲讲这样的爱以及欣赏美的正确方式，最终他说道：

“我想我已经说得够清楚了，年长的人比年轻人在爱中更幸福，这是我的假定。所以我不能再补充什么了。”

洛多维科伯爵回应说：“你对年轻人不幸福的论证比对年长者幸福的论证要充分，因为你没有教给年长者在爱中要循着怎样的路前进，你仅仅告诉他们要受理性的指引。许多人认为爱和理性是无法相容的。”

贝博仍然决定不再发言，但是在公爵夫人的请求下，他又接着说了起来：“如果在我们的灵魂中如此热切的渴望能这么容易就被激起，如果我们的灵魂被迫在这种和动物类似的感觉中得到滋养，而不能将这种渴望导向一种更加积极的方面，那着实是人性的悲哀。既然您希望这样，那我不会拒绝讨论这个高贵的话题。我知道我不配讲述关于爱神的神圣秘密。所以我恳求上帝能够启发我的思想和语言，使我能够教给我们优秀的侍臣如何以优于那些粗俗的众人的方式去爱。由于自幼时起我就将自己交给了上帝，希望我的话与我的意志相符，也能够为上帝赢得更多的认可。我认为，既然年轻时人的本性如此依赖于感官，当侍臣年轻时，他可以用感官的方式去爱；但是，当他更成熟时，这种情色的欲望会让他受伤，他必须小心谨慎，不要欺骗自己，不要让自己经历痛苦，那种痛苦对年轻人而言值得同情而非指责，但在年长的人则应受指责而非同情。

“因此，当他看到那些美丽而吸引人的女人时，这时的他优雅有富有魅力，已是情场高手，他可以察觉出他和她灵魂的共鸣，一旦他注意到他的目光被她的外表所吸引并把她记在心里，他的灵魂会因深深地想念她而感到愉悦，情感的洪流渐渐涌动，温暖着他的灵魂，她的眼眸里闪耀的活泼神气不断给他情感的火焰增添新的燃料，那么一开始他就应该设法寻求一种快速的自救方法，让理智提高警惕以帮助他保卫心灵的城堡，关闭通向感官和欲望的道路，使其不能强行通过或蒙混过关。若火焰被熄灭了，危险也就消失了。但是，如果它（这种情感）坚持了下来并且不断生长，那他就该知道自己被俘虏了，这时这个侍臣就应该避开庸俗激情的所有丑陋，接受理智的指引，走上圣洁的爱情之路。他应该想清楚的第一件事就是，身体是美寄居的躯壳而不是美的源泉，与此相反，美是非物质的，是如我们所说的超自然的光芒，当它与最基本和易变质的事物融合在一起时，会失去它大部分的高贵本性：因为越是完美，它所包含的物质内容越少，而当与物质完全脱离时，美才达到最完美的境界。他也必须清楚，正如人不能用味蕾来听，不能用耳朵闻一样，美以及它在我们的灵魂中激发出来的渴望绝对无法通过触觉得到满足，而只能通过真正能够将美视为客体的东西，即视觉器官来满足。因此，他应该忽略这些感官的盲目判断而是用眼睛欣赏他所爱的女人的光辉、优雅、可爱的热情、微笑、言谈举止以及其他令人愉悦的装饰。同样，他应该用听觉来欣赏她甜美的声音，优雅的言谈，如果她是一位音乐家，也要欣赏她的音乐。通过这两种不关乎肉欲却为理性服务的感官渠道，他能够用最令人愉悦的食粮滋养他的灵魂，而不会让对肉体的渴求激起任何不纯洁的欲望。另外，他应带着最高的敬意去尊重、取悦并服从他爱的女人，比珍惜自己更加珍惜他的爱人，把她的舒适和快乐放在首位，爱她躯体的美更爱她灵魂的美。因此，他必须竭尽全力使她免于走上歧途，通过他的睿智和告诫使她变得谦恭、温和，真正地拥有道德；他还必须让她的思想保持纯洁，不受任何恶念的玷污。因此通过在她那可爱灵魂的花园里播种美德，他将收获完美无瑕的举止，品尝果实甘美的味道。这将是真正的在美中创造美，在美中体现美，有人说这就是爱的目的。通过这种方式，我们的侍臣会深得爱人的欢心，她也总是会那么顺从、迷人、温柔、渴望取悦于他并得到他的爱；他们二人的渴望是非常纯洁、和谐的，因此他们也会非常幸福。”

接着莫雷罗阁下说道：“在现实生活中，这种在美中创造美一定是指让那美丽的女人生一个漂亮的孩子；在我看来，以这种方式取悦她所爱的人更能表明她对他的爱，比你提到的温柔好得多。”

贝博笑着回答说：“你不能越界，莫雷罗阁下；一个女人在把她所珍视的美给予她的爱人的时候，不仅仅是一种爱的象征，她也把通向她灵魂的途径给了他，即视觉和听觉，她的眼眸，她的面容，她的声音，她的话语无不深入她的爱人的心底，传达着她爱的证明。”

莫雷罗阁下接着说：“眼神和语言可能并且常常是虚假的证明。我认为任何不能做出更好承诺的爱都是最不确定的爱。说实话，我希望您能让您的女人比贵族阁下的女人对侍臣更加谦恭有礼、慷慨大度。然而，我认为你们双方的做法都像那些法官一样，为了显示自己的英明对自己人宣判。”

“我非常乐意，”贝博继续说道，“我说的这种女人对年长的侍臣比贵族阁下的女人对年轻的侍臣更加谦恭有礼，这是有充分理由的，因为我的侍臣只期望一切都很得体，而这些她可以很轻松地做到。然而贵族的女人，她的行为是否表现得谦恭有礼要视年轻的侍臣是否正派而定。因此，我的侍臣得到了所有他想要得到的东西，他也比另外一个更加快乐，因为另一个只满足了部分要求，其他部分却遭到了拒绝。为了使你们更好地了解理智的爱情比感性之恋更加幸福，我想说，有时候一种东西在感性之恋中应该否定，在理智的爱情中却应该给予支持。因为在前一种爱中这种东西显得不得体，而在后一种中却很合适。因此，为了取悦她那谦恭有礼的爱人，除了向他展露令人愉悦的笑容，亲密地和他说说悄悄话，自在地说说俏皮话，牵牵手，这位女士可能合情合理而又心底纯洁地吻吻她的爱人。而根据贵族阁下的规则，感性之恋是不允许这样的。原因在于，吻是身体与灵魂的结合，这里存在一种风险，即感性的爱人可能对身体的依恋大于灵魂；但是，理性的爱人却认为尽管嘴是身体的一部分，但是它也提供一种语言的渠道，而语言是对灵魂的解读，它同时也是人类呼吸和表达自己的精神的渠道。因此，理性的人吻他所爱的女人时非常愉悦，不是因为会激发任何不得体的欲望，而是因为他感觉到这种结合打开了彼此灵魂的大门，它们为共同的渴望所吸引，彼此注入对方的体内，彼此融合，每个人都拥有了两个灵魂，就仿佛由两部分组成的一个灵魂统辖着两个躯体。因此，这种吻可以被称为精神的结合而非肉体的结合，因为它对灵魂产生影响，使灵魂为它所吸引而与身体相分离。正因为如此，所有贞洁的爱人都渴望一吻，因为它代表灵魂的结合；所以在谈到爱情时，柏拉图曾经说过，接吻时，灵魂来到唇边，为的是离开身体。由于灵魂和感官所感知的事物是相互分离的，它与精神层面的完全结合可以用一个吻来表示。在他那借助灵感而创作的《雅歌》中，所罗门说：‘愿他用他的吻来吻我’，表达的愿望就是，让这种圣洁之爱把他的灵魂带向对圣洁之美的关注，通过与这种圣洁之美的亲密融合使自己的灵魂可以远离躯体。”

所有人都凝神倾听贝博的话，他停了一会儿接着说：

“既然你们让我告诉已经不再年轻的侍臣什么是真正幸福的爱情，我想引导他更进一步。因为停留在这一点是很危险的。原因在于，就像我们已经说过很多次的那样，灵魂强烈地倾向于感觉；尽管理智在选择的过程中很正确，并且意识到美并非源于肉体，还会制约不纯洁的欲望，但是，一直关注躯体的美会妨碍真正的判断。这样尽管不会导致什么罪恶，却会使分离的爱人十分痛苦。这是因为，如果躯体之美是存在的，它会给爱人的精神带来强烈的愉悦感，通过温暖他的内心，激起并且融化一些隐藏着的凝结的力量，这些力量被爱的温暖所滋养，因爱的温暖而流淌，充溢着他的内心，通过他的眼睛传达出那些精神，或那种最为微妙的气息（包含着血液中最为纯洁、最为明亮的部分），一起来迎接她的美，并且为她的美装点上各式各样的装饰。结果，灵魂中充满了想象与愉悦；它既害怕又高兴；在体验快乐的同时也体验着神圣的事物所激发的那种敬畏和崇敬，灵魂似乎有些迷乱，它相信自己来到了天堂。

“因此，只关注躯体之美的人，一旦他所爱的女人离开，他的眼前一旦没有了那美的光辉，就会失去所有的美好和幸福，结果，他的灵魂也枯萎了。因为她的美的远离，往日她在时的那种柔情不再涌来温暖他的心。而他身体的各个感觉器官开始变得干涸；然而对于她美的记忆仍然能在他的灵魂中激起一点力量，使它们能够试图将这些精神发泄出来。尽管它们的路途被阻塞，没有任何出口，但还是努力着去挣脱，它们被痛苦包围着，于是就开始戳刺灵魂使它痛苦万分，这就像孩子们的牙齿开始从柔软的牙龈中生长出来的感觉一样。它会让爱人们流泪、叹息、痛苦、烦忧，因为他们的灵魂一直处于痛苦和混乱中，它愤怒、生气直到它所珍视的美再一次出现在眼前，才突然冷静下来，又开始呼吸，它深深沉醉，从眼前的美食中汲取力量，并希望永远不要再离开这个令人着迷的景象。因此，为摆脱由于分离而造成的痛苦，享受美而不受苦，侍臣应该借助理智将他的欲望完全从躯体转向美本身。他应该在能力所及的范围内尽力思考美本身的简单与纯洁，在自己的想象中创造出一种有别于任何物质形态的抽象美，使它为自己的灵魂所喜爱和珍视，永远在灵魂中享受着它，日日夜夜，不论何时何地，不需害怕失去它；而他也会记得，躯体与美是完全不同的，而且躯体只会削减而非提升美。通过这种方式，我们那年长的侍臣将会使自己远离痛苦和忧伤，不会再经历年轻的侍臣们经历过的嫉妒、怀疑、不屑、生气、绝望和暴怒，最后一种情绪有时会把他们引上歧途，有些人不仅伤害了他们爱的女人，甚至还赔上了自己的性命。而年长的侍臣则不会伤害自己所爱的女人的丈夫、父亲、兄弟或她的家庭，他不会令她蒙羞，也不会时常被迫转移目光，谨言慎行，害怕暴露自己的渴望，或者在离开她时遭受痛苦。因为他会永远把这种珍贵的情感藏在心中，而且通过想象的力量，使她的美比在现实中的更加可爱。

“然而，如果他决定把这份爱当做阶梯，借此走向一个更伟大的境界，那么在众多的益处中他将会发现一个更加美妙的益处；这是完全有可能的，因为如果他不断地反思自己，就会发现把自己的思想局限在一个躯体上是多么狭隘。为了脱离这种思想的局限，他会逐渐地为头脑中的美增加很多装饰，通过把他头脑中想到的所有美的形式都连接在一起，并将各种形式统一起来，简化成一种单一的美，这种统一笼罩着人类本性的整体。因此，他不会再考虑某一个女人的美，而是会考虑那种装点了所有人的共同之美。这种美的光辉更加耀眼，让他惊叹不已，因此，他不再重视某个女人的美；在这种更纯净的火焰中，往日他视若珍宝的东西，变得毫无价值。现在，处于这种境界的爱，尽管高尚，很少有人能达到，但仍然不能称为完美的爱。因为人类的想象力来自于身体的感官，只能通过感官输送的数据来获取信息，所以它也不能完全清除物质中有害的一面。所以，尽管它对人类共同之美能通过抽象和简化的方法进行加工，但其结果却很模糊，不确定，因为它的形成与身体还是有着密切的关系；因此，达到这种爱的境界的人就仿佛刚刚长出羽毛的雏鸟，用柔弱的翅膀可以支撑着飞行一段路，但不敢远离鸟巢，也不敢勇敢地迎着风，飞向广阔的天空。

“因此，当我们的侍臣达到了这种爱的境界时，尽管可以说与那些仍然沉浸在感性之恋的痛苦中的人相比，他大多时候是幸福的，但我希望他不要满足，而要在爱的宏伟道路上继续勇往直前，朝着真正的幸福迈进。因此，与其将他的思想集中于外部世界，就像那些关注躯体之美的人，不如让他关注自己的内心，思索他心灵看到的一切，从而看透因注重躯体美而被忽略的内在美。因此去除所有的邪恶，通过学习真正的哲学，朝着高尚的精神世界，在智慧的不断磨砺下，灵魂开始转向对自身的思考，仿佛从沉睡中醒来，张开了眼睛，这样的眼睛原本是人人都有的，但很少有人通过它看到向它传递的那束光——天使之美的真正面目，而反过来它又将一个模糊的印象反映在躯体上。因此，当心灵对世俗的一切视而不见的时候，就对来自天堂的一切张开了眼睛；有时当身体的感官完全陷入这种冥思苦想，或进入梦乡的时候，在没有任何干扰的情况下，心灵才真正品味到天使之美的味道，心灵因那束美妙的光线而欣喜若狂，开始燃烧，开始追逐，它如此地热切、迷醉、忘我，时刻想要与那种美融为一体。因为那时心灵相信它发现了上帝的踪迹，思考它的过程就是对终极的宁静和快乐追寻的过程。因此，在这种最令人愉悦的火焰中，它升华到了最高贵的部分，即智慧层面；在那里，它不再被俗世的黑夜所笼罩，它领悟到了圣洁之美。尽管这样，它也并非完美无瑕地享受着这种境界，因为它仅仅以自己的智慧在思考，而它的智慧还不足以完全领悟那无限的济世之美。因此，爱不仅仅给人带来很多益处，它还会给心灵带来更大的幸福。因为正如它引导心灵从个体的躯体之美转向济世之美，它还将指导心灵从个体的智慧走向普世的智慧，从而到达完美的最高境界。从那里，心灵燃烧着真爱的圣火，飞翔起来与天使的本性融合在一起，它不仅抛弃了感官，甚至连理智本身也不需要了。因为，已经化身为天使的它，了解所有智慧层面的东西，眼前不再有迷雾，不再有乌云，可以凝视广阔的圣洁之美的海洋，享受着感官无法体会的至高的幸福。

“我们每天都用那被乌云遮蔽的眼睛看到存在于堕落躯壳中的美（即使是这样也仅仅是梦幻和模糊的影子），觉得它们是那么可爱，那么优雅，它们常常在我们的内心深处燃起最为热烈的火焰，带来如此的愉悦，从而觉得没有什么能与被自己深爱的女人看上一眼带来的幸福相提并论。所以可想而知，当我们看到那种圣洁之美时会怎样的快乐无比，心中一定会充满了神圣的敬仰！多么可爱的火焰，多么令人沉醉的火焰，我们相信它必然是源自于最崇高、最真实的美，这种美是其他所有美的源泉，恒久不变，永远美丽，最为质朴，毫无瑕疵；仿佛仅仅展现自我，仅仅奉献自我；然而，它是如此美丽，以至于所有其他的美好事物都从它那里汲取美丽。这就是与至善密不可分的美，它的光辉呼唤着、吸引着周围的一切，它不仅把智慧、理智、感觉和对生命的渴望赐予配得上这些能力的人，还将坚定和其他特有的品质赐予岩石和植物，给它们也打上美的印记。因此，这种爱，与其他的相比更伟大、更幸福，因为产生它的源泉更伟大。所以，正如物质的火焰能够炼出金子，这最圣洁的火焰毁掉我们灵魂中一切世俗的东西，而滋养和美化原来被感官埋没的超凡脱俗的部分。这就是诗人笔下俄塔山顶上烧死大力神赫拉克勒斯［7］的火焰，经过火的洗礼，重生的他成为永生的神灵；这就是摩西［8］手中那燃烧的荆棘，是分开的火舌，是以利亚［9］那燃烧的战车，当它离开大地飞向天空之际，那些有幸看到它高贵灵魂的人感到无比的荣耀和幸福。让我们把灵魂中所有的思想，所有的力量都引向这最为圣洁的光芒，指引我们通向天堂的路途。跟随着它，抛弃那些虚假的激情，让我们顺着阶梯攀爬，那最低的一级承载的是感官之美，最终通向那容纳着超凡脱俗，令人钦羡的真正的美的宫殿，它藏身在万能的上帝的幽居之地，凡夫俗子的眼睛是看不到的。在这里，我们能为欲望找到一个真正幸福的结局，能真正结束劳累得到安歇，为悲伤找到慰藉，为疾病找到灵药，为这动荡的一生找到躲避暴风雨的港湾。

“噢，最圣洁的爱，什么样的言语才能把你赞美？您充满了美、善良和智慧，你的源泉在于美、善良和神圣智慧的结合，你居于斯，又永久地回归它的怀抱。你优雅地把整个宇宙连接起来，就在圣洁和凡尘之间，你善意地安排上天，让它给凡尘以指引，让人们的思想回归本源，从而将他们连接在一起。你把这些因素和谐地融为一体，激发大自然去孕育生命并把所有的生命推向永恒。你把分离的东西合并在一起，把不完美变得完美，把不同变成相似，把对手化为朋友，给大地带来果实，给大海带来平和，给天空带来赐予生命的光芒。你是真正的快乐、福祉、和平、温柔和善良之父；你是粗野和卑劣的仇敌；你是所有美好的起点和终结；由于你喜欢栖息在美丽的躯体和灵魂的深处，而且有时候愿意向那些你喜爱的人展示自己，我相信，此时此刻你就居于我们之中。噢，上帝啊，请倾听我们的祈祷，把您的光辉注入我们的内心，用您那最圣洁的火焰的光芒为我们驱散黑暗，就像一位可信的向导，为我们指明走出迷宫的路。更正我们的感官错误，在我们长时间的妄想迷乱后，让我们知道什么才是真正的美。给我们的智慧增添灵性的香气，让我们与圣洁协调一致，再没有空间容纳激情的纷争。使我们的灵魂沉醉于永不干涸的满足之泉，让它永远愉悦，永远满足，谁喝了它那清澈的活水谁就能品尝到真正祝福的味道。您的光辉驱散了蒙住我们双眼的无知的迷瘴，因此它们不再赞誉世俗的美，它们也认识到第一眼看到的不是真实，相反，没有看到的才是真实。请接受我们灵魂的奉献，让它们在烧毁一切尘世渣滓的火焰中燃烧，浴火重生并与超凡脱俗之美永久地结合，而我们，从自我奴役中解放出来的我们，就像真正的爱侣能被转变成为我们爱的客体，飞向天空，参加天使的盛宴，那里有仙肴和琼浆玉液，这样，我们就可以幸福终老，就像先祖一样，通过思想的伟大力量，他们的灵魂与肉体分开，最终与上帝融为一体。”

贝博以这种激动的语气谈了这么多，仿佛出离了自己本身，而后他变得沉静缄默，仰望着天空，仿佛有些茫然了。艾米莉亚夫人和其他人全神贯注地倾听了他所有的谈话，然后，她拉了拉他长袍的褶边，说道：

“小心啊，皮埃特罗，虽然你有这种想法，但可别让你的灵魂出了窍啊。”

“夫人，”皮埃特罗回答说，“这可不是爱在我身上发生的第一个奇迹。”

随后伯爵夫人和其他所有人都再一次坚持让贝博继续说下去；几乎每一个人都感觉到了激发贝博思想的那个神圣之爱的火花。他们都急切地想听到更多，但他说道：

“先生们，我已经把有关圣洁之爱这个话题所激发出来的想法都说完了。现在这种灵感好像消逝了，我不知道该说什么；我想关于爱这个话题我不能再深入下去了，侍臣们听我说了这么多，也许他们有补充；因此，可能我的话就到此为止吧。”

“确实是，”伯爵夫人说道，“年长的侍臣如若能够遵循你刚才向他展示的光明大道，他确实会为自己莫大的幸福感到满足而不会嫉妒年轻人。”

然后塞萨尔·贡萨加评论说：“在我看来，通向幸福的路途太过陡峭，我认为没什么人能够通过。”

其后，加斯帕雷阁下评论道：“我认为这条道路对男人来说很难，对女人来说是不可能的。”

艾米莉亚夫人笑了，她说道：

“加斯帕雷阁下，如果你再这样冒犯我们，我保证不再原谅你。”

加斯帕雷阁下回答说：“说女人的灵魂不像男人那样被激情所涤荡，或不像男人那样善于思考，就像皮埃特罗所说的，如果要品味圣洁之爱就必须这样，这可不是对女人的冒犯。因此，我们从没在哪本书上读到女人获得过这种恩赐，但我们却听说许多男人有，比如，柏拉图、苏格拉底、柏罗丁［10］以及其他许多人；同样的，我们的先祖中也有许多这样的人，比如说圣弗朗西斯，他身上有爱的信使为他印上的五个最神圣的印记。还有，爱的力量让圣徒保罗说出无人敢讲的秘密，并为圣徒史蒂芬指明天路的出口。”

随后，尊贵的朱利亚诺回答说：

“在这一点上，女人丝毫不比男人逊色：因为苏格拉底自己承认他所知道的爱的所有秘密都是一个女人向他揭示的，那就是著名的狄奥提玛［11］，用爱的火焰戳刺圣弗朗西斯的天使也让我们这个时代的几个女人拥有同样的印记。你们也应该记得，由于爱，抹大拉的马利亚［12］的许多罪孽都得到了原谅，与圣保罗相比可能她的优雅并不逊色，由于天使之爱，她多次被带到耶和华的居所。你们也应该记得其他许多人，比如我昨天谈了很久的那些人，为了上帝的爱的名义，不顾自己的生命，他们不惧怕酷刑，或任何形式的死亡，不管那有多么可怕，多么残酷。她们不像皮埃特罗期望的侍臣那么年迈，只是娇弱的女子，并且正处在容易让男人想入非非的芳龄。”

加斯帕雷阁下正准备回答，但是伯爵夫人说道：

“让皮埃特罗·贝博来做裁判，让我们都遵照他的意见来判断女人是否和男人一样能够拥有圣洁之爱。但是，你们的辩论可能会持续很长时间，我们还是推迟到明天再谈吧。”

“应该说是今天晚上吧。”塞萨尔·贡萨加说道。

“为什么是今天晚上呢？”伯爵夫人问道。

塞萨尔回答说：“因为天已经亮了。”他向她指了指从窗缝里漏进来的阳光。随后他们都站起身，十分吃惊，因为没有感觉到讨论的时间比平时更长，但是由于他们开始的比平时晚了很多，而且谈得更有兴致，这些先生们是如此全神贯注，谁也没注意到时间的流逝，也没有人感觉到疲倦：在平时该睡觉的时间还醒着通常会有这种感觉。所以当宫殿里正对着卡瑞亚山那高耸山巅的一侧的窗子被打开时，他们看到，黎明已经降临东方，天空晕染得像一朵娇艳的玫瑰，所有的星星都隐遁了，只剩下那天空的女主人，金星维纳斯，守卫着日和夜的边界。从那里，好像吹起一阵微风，空气随之充满了刺骨严寒，四周的小山上，树林婆娑低语，鸟儿从睡梦中被唤醒，开始愉快地歌唱。随后，所有的人都恭敬地向伯爵夫人告别，准备回自己的房间去了，谁也没用火把，因为天光已经足够明亮；而在他们就要走出房门时，行政官转过身对伯爵夫人说道：

“夫人，为了解决加斯帕雷阁下和贵族先生之间的争论，今晚我们和裁判来得会比昨天早啊。”

艾米莉亚夫人回答说：“如果加斯帕雷阁下想批评女性，或像往常一样诋毁她们，他就该遭到审判，因为我要控告他是有失公正的人。”

注释

［1］厄毗米修斯（Epimetheus）：普罗米修斯的兄弟，被称为“后知者”。——译者注

［2］弥涅耳瓦（Minerva）：古罗马神话中智慧和技术及工艺之神。——译者注

［3］伏尔坎（Vulcan）：天神朱庇特之子，灵魂和才智十分卓越。——译者注

［4］墨丘利（Mercury）：罗马神话中朱庇特与女神迈亚所生的儿子，担任诸神的使者和传译。——译者注

［5］撒敦（Saturn）：罗马神话中的农业之神。——译者注

［6］斯泰西科拉斯（Stesichorus）：公元前6世纪希腊抒情诗人。传说因为他用情不专，背叛了山林女神娜伊爱斯（Naias），爱上了西西里国王的女儿，眼睛被山林女神弄瞎。——译者注

［7］赫拉克勒斯（Hercules）：罗马神话中的大力神。——译者注

［8］摩西（Moses）：犹太教、基督教故事中古以色列人首领，曾率领古以色列人出埃及。——译者注

［9］［3］ 以利亚（Elias）：公元前9世纪以色列的先知，见《圣经·列王记》。——译者注

［10］柏罗丁（Plotinus）：古罗马哲学家，新柏拉图学派主要代表，亚历山大里亚－罗马新柏拉图学派创始人，提出“流溢说”，著有《九章集》。——译者注

［11］狄奥提玛（Diotima）：女祭司，她教导了苏格拉底有关爱的知识。——译者注

［12］抹大拉的马利亚（Mary Magdalene）：耶稣最著名的门徒之一，耶稣曾从其身上逐出七个恶鬼，一直以被耶稣拯救的妓女形象出现在基督教的传说中。——译者注

Baldesar Castiglione

How to Achieve True Greatness

TRANSLATED BY

GEORGE BULL

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

Contents

The First Book of the Courtier

The Second Book of the Courtier

返回分册总目录

The First Book of the Courtier

I have spent a long time wondering, my dear Alfonso, which of two things was the more difficult for me: either to refuse what you have asked me so often and so insistently, or to do it. On the one hand, it seemed to me to be very hard to refuse anything, and especially something praiseworthy, to one whom I love dearly and by whom I feel I am very dearly loved; yet on the other hand, to embark on a project which I was uncertain of being able to finish seemed wrong to one who respects adverse criticism as much as it ought to be respected. Eventually, after a great deal of thought, I have made up my mind to find out how diligent I can be when helped by affection and the anxiety to please, which usually act as a sharp spur to all kinds of activity.

Now your request is that I should describe what, in my view, is the form of courtiership most appropriate for a gentleman living at the Courts of princes, by which he will have the knowledge and the ability to serve them in every reasonable thing, winning their favour and the praise of others. In short, you want to know what kind of man must be one who deserves the name of a perfect courtier and has no shortcomings whatsoever. Considering this request, I must say that, if I did not think it a greater fault to be judged wanting in love by you than wanting in prudence by others, I would have rejected the task, for fear of being accused of rashness by all those who know how difficult an undertaking it is to select from all the many and various customs followed at the Courts of Christendom the most perfect model and, as it were, the very flower of courtiership. For familiarity often causes the same things to be liked and disliked: and thus it sometimes happens that the customs, behaviour, ceremonies and ways of life approved of at one period of time grow to be looked down on, and those which were once looked down on come to be approved. So we can see clearly enough that usage is more effective than reason in introducing new things among us and in wiping out the old. And anyone who tries to judge what is perfect in these matters often deceives himself. Being well aware of this, therefore, and of the many other problems connected with the subject proposed to me, I am compelled to say something by way of excuse and to testify that what I am doing wrong (if it can be called so) you are responsible for as well, and that if I am to be blamed for it you must share the blame. After all, you must be judged to be as much at fault in imposing on me a task greater than my resources as I am in having accepted it.

But let us now begin to discuss the subject we have chosen and, if it is possible, create a courtier so perfect that the prince who is worthy of his service, even though his dominion is small, can count himself a truly great ruler. In these books we shall not follow any strict order or list a series of precepts, as is the normal practice in teaching. Instead, following many writers of the ancient world, and reviving a pleasant memory, we shall recount some discussions which once took place among men who were singularly qualified in these matters. Even though I did not take part in them in person (being in England when they were held), they were faithfully reported to me soon after my return by someone who was present, and I shall endeavour to reproduce them as accurately as my memory allows so that you may discover what was held and thought on the subject by eminent men whose judgement can always be trusted completely. Nor will it be beside the purpose, in order to continue the story in logical order, to describe the occasion of the discussions that took place.

On the slopes of the Apennines, almost in the centre of Italy towards the Adriatic, is situated, as everyone knows, the little city of Urbino. Although it is surrounded by hills which are perhaps not as agreeable as those found in many other places, none the less it has been favoured by Nature with a very rich and fertile countryside, so that as well as a salubrious atmosphere it enjoys an abundance of all the necessities of life. Among the blessings and advantages that can be claimed for it, I believe the greatest is that for a long time now it has been governed by outstanding rulers, even though in the turmoils into which Italy was plunged by war it was for a time deprived of them. Without looking any further, we can find a splendid example in Duke Federico of glorious memory, who in his day was the light of Italy. Nor are there lacking today any number of reliable witnesses to his prudence, humanity, justice, generosity and unconquerable spirit, and to his military skill, which was brilliantly attested by his many victories, his ability to capture impregnable places, his swift and decisive expeditions, his having routed many times with few troops great and formidable armies, and his never having lost a single battle. So we can fairly compare him with many famous men of the ancient world. Among his other commendable enterprises, Duke Federico built on the rugged site of Urbino a palace which many believe to be the most beautiful in all Italy; and he furnished it so well and appropriately that it seemed more like a city than a mere palace. For he adorned it not only with the usual objects, such as silver vases, wall-hangings of the richest cloth of gold, silk and other similar material, but also with countless antique statues of marble and bronze, with rare pictures, and with every kind of musical instrument; nor would he tolerate anything that was not most rare and outstanding. Then, at great cost, he collected a large number of the finest and rarest books, in Greek, Latin and Hebrew, all of which he adorned with gold and silver, believing that they were the crowning glory of his great palace.

Following, therefore, the course of Nature, and being already sixty-five years old, Duke Federico died as gloriously as he had lived, leaving as his heir his only son, a little, motherless boy of ten named Guidobaldo. And Guidobaldo seemed to inherit not only his father's state but all his virtues as well, immediately showing in his marvellous disposition the promise of more than can be expected from a mortal man. In consequence, it was widely said that of all the wonderful things that Duke Federico had done, the greatest was to have fathered such a son. But envious of his great qualities, Fortune set herself with all her might to frustrate what had begun so nobly, with the result that before he was yet twenty years old Duke Guido fell sick with the gout which, inflicting terrible pain, grew steadily worse and within a short space of time crippled him so badly that he could neither stand nor walk. Thus one of the best and most handsome men in the whole world was deformed and ruined while still of tender age. Not satisfied even with this, Fortune so opposed him in all his projects that he rarely succeeded in what he undertook and although he was a man of mature deliberation and unconquerable spirit, everything he set his hand to, whether in arms or anything else, great or small, always ended unhappily, as we can see from the many diverse calamities which befell him, and which he always bore with such fortitude that his will was never crushed by fate. On the contrary, with great resilience and spirit, he despised the blows of Fortune, living the life of a healthy and happy man, despite sickness and adversity, and achieving true dignity and universal renown. Thus even though he was infirm, he campaigned with a most honourable rank in the service of their Serene Highnesses Kings Alfonso and Ferdinand the Younger of Naples, and subsequently with Pope Alexander VI as well as the Signories of Venice and Florence. Then, after the accession of Pope Julius II, he was made Captain of the Church; and during this time, following his customary style of life, he saw to it that his household was filled with very noble and worthy gentlemen, with whom he lived on the most familiar terms, delighting in their company. In this the pleasure he caused others was no less than what he received, for he was very well versed in both Latin and Greek, and possessed as well as an affable and charming nature, an infinite range of knowledge. Moreover, his indomitable spirit so spurred him on that, even though he himself was unable to take part in chivalrous activities, as he once used to, he loved to see them pursued by others, and he would show his fine judgement when commenting on what they did, correcting or praising each one according to his merits. So in jousts and tournaments, in riding, in handling every kind of weapon, as well as in the festivities, games and musical performances, in short, in all the activities appropriate to a well-born gentleman, everyone at his Court strove to behave in such a way as to deserve to be judged worthy of the Duke's noble company.

So all day and every day at the Court of Urbino was spent on honourable and pleasing activities both of the body and the mind. But since the Duke always retired to his bedroom soon after supper, because of his infirmity, as a rule at that hour everyone went to join the Duchess, Elisabetta Gonzaga, with whom was always to be found signora Emilia Pia, a lady gifted with such a lively wit and judgement, as you know, that she seemed to be in command of all and to endow everyone else with her own discernment and goodness. In their company polite conversations and innocent pleasantries were heard, and everyone's face was so full of laughter and gaiety that the house could truly be called the very inn of happiness. And I am sure that the delight and enjoyment to be had from loving and devoted companionship were never experienced elsewhere as they once were in Urbino. For, apart from the honour it was for each of us to be in the service of a ruler such as I described above, we all felt supremely happy whenever we came into the presence of the Duchess; and this sense of contentment formed between us a bond of affection so strong that even between brothers there could never have been such harmonious agreement and heartfelt love as there was among us all. It was the same with the ladies, whose company we all enjoyed very freely and innocently, since everyone was allowed to talk and sit, make jokes and laugh with whom he pleased, though such was the respect we had for the wishes of the Duchess that the liberty we enjoyed was accompanied by the most careful restraint. And without exception everyone considered that the most pleasurable thing possible was to please her and the most displeasing thing in the world was to earn her displeasure. So for these reasons in her company the most decorous behaviour proved compatible with the greatest freedom, and in her presence our games and laughter were seasoned both with the sharpest witticisms and with a gracious and sober dignity. For the modesty and nobility which informed every act, word and gesture of the Duchess, in jest and laughter, caused even those seeing her for the first time to recognize that she was a very great lady. It seemed, from the way in which she influenced those around her, that she tempered us all to her own character and quality, so that everyone endeavoured to imitate her personal way of behaviour, deriving as it were a model of fine manners from the presence of so great and talented a woman, whose high qualities I do not intend to describe now, since this is not to my purpose and they are well known to all the world, apart from being beyond the reach of whatever I could say or write. But I must add that those qualities in the Duchess which might have remained somewhat hidden, Fortune, as if admiring such rare virtues, chose to reveal through many adversities and harsh blows, in order to demonstrate that in the tender soul of a woman, and accompanied by singular beauty, there may also dwell prudence and a courageous spirit and all those virtues very rarely found even in the staunchest of men.

To continue, let me say that it was the custom for all the gentlemen of the house to go, immediately after supper, to the rooms of the Duchess; and there, along with pleasant recreations and enjoyments of various kinds, including constant music and dancing, sometimes intriguing questions were asked, and sometimes ingenious games played (now on the suggestion of one person and now of another) in which, using various ways of concealment, those present revealed their thoughts in allegories to this person or that. And occasionally, there would be discussions on various subjects, or there would be a sharp exchange of spontaneous witticisms; and often 'emblems', as we call them nowadays, were devised for the occasion. And everyone enjoyed these exchanges immensely, since, as I have said, the house was full of very noble and talented persons.

[ . . .]

The rule was that as soon as anyone came into the presence of the Duchess he would take his place in a circle, sitting down wherever he wished or wherever he happened to find himself; the group was arranged alternately one man and one woman, as long as there were women, for invariably they were outnumbered by the men. Then the company was governed according to the wishes of the Duchess, who usually left this task to signora Emilia. So the day after the Pope's departure, they all assembled in the customary place at the usual time, and after many pleasant discussions, the Duchess decided that signora Emilia should begin the games.

[ . . . ]

Everyone was waiting for signora Emilia when without saying a word to Bembo she turned to Federico Fregoso and indicated that he should say what game he would suggest; and he immediately began as follows:

'Madam, [ . . . ] To teach a lesson to the many fools who in their presumption and absurdity think they are entitled to be called good courtiers, I would like our game this evening to be this: that one of us should be chosen and given the task of depicting in words a perfect courtier, explaining the character and the particular qualities needed by anyone who deserves such a title. And, just as in philosophical disputations, if anything is said which does not seem appropriate, each of us may be allowed to contradict.'

Federico was continuing to speak, when signora Emilia interrupted him to say:'If the Duchess wishes, this will be our game for this evening.'

And the Duchess answered:'Yes, that is my wish.'

Then almost without exception all those who were present began to say among themselves and to the Duchess that this was the best game of all; and hardly waiting to hear each other talk, they all urged signora Emilia to decide who should make a start. So, turning to the Duchess, she said:

'Decide, madam, who it is you wish to undertake this task; for I don't want in choosing one rather than another to appear to be judging whom I think the most capable, and so give offence.'

The Duchess answered:'No, you must make the choice yourself; and take care lest by disobeying me you set a bad example to the others to do the same.'

Then, with a smile, signora Emilia said to Count Lodovico da Canossa:

'Well, then, so that we won't lose any more time, you will be the one to undertake the task as described by Federico. Not, let me say, that we believe you are such a fine courtier that you know what befits one, but because if you say everything contrariwise, as we hope you will, then the game will be still better since everyone will have a reason for challenging you, whereas if the task were given to someone knowing more than you do, no one could contradict anything he said, since it would be the truth, and so the game would prove very dull.'

The Count immediately retorted:

'But, madam, since you are present we need have no fear that the truth would go unchallenged.

[ . . . ]

'Let me start by saying that to recognize true perfection in anything is so difficult as to be scarcely possible; and this because of the way opinions vary. Thus there are many who like to hear someone talking a great deal and who will call him an agreeable companion. Some will prefer reticence; others an active and restless man; others one who always acts with calmness and deliberation; and so everyone praises or condemns according to his own opinion, always camouflaging a vice under the name of the corresponding virtue, or a virtue under the name of the corresponding vice. For example, a presumptuous man will be called frank, a modest man, dull; a simple-minded man, good; a rascal, shrewd; and so on and so forth. Still, I do think there is a perfection for everything, even though it may be concealed, and I also think that this perfection can be determined through informed and reasoned argument. And since, as I have said, the truth is often concealed and I do not claim to be informed, I can only praise courtiers of the kind I esteem myself and approve what seems to my limited judgement to be nearest to what is correct; and you can follow my judgement if it seems good, or keep to your own if it differs. Nor shall I argue that mine is better than yours, for not only can you think one thing and I another but I myself can think one thing at one time and something else another time.'

＊

The Count then continued:'so, for myself, I would have our courtier of noble birth and good family, since it matters far less to a common man if he fails to perform virtuously and well than to a nobleman. For if a gentleman strays from the path of his forbears, he dishonours his family name and not only fails to achieve anything but loses what has already been achieved. Noble birth is like a bright lamp that makes dear and visible both good deeds and bad, and inspires and incites to high performance as much as fear of dishonour or hope of praise; and since their deeds do not possess such noble brilliance, ordinary people lack both this stimulus and the fear of dishonour; nor do they believe that they are bound to surpass what was achieved by their forbears. Whereas to people of noble birth it seems reprehensible not to attain at least the standard set them by their ancestors. Thus as a general rule, both in arms and in other worthy activities, those who are most distinguished are of noble birth, because Nature has implanted in everything a hidden seed which has a certain way of influencing and passing on its own essential characteristics to all that grows from it, making it similar to itself. We see this not only in breeds of horses and other animals but also in trees, whose off shoots nearly always resemble the trunk; and if they sometimes degenerate, the fault lies with the man who tends them. So it happens with men, who, if they are well tended and properly brought up, nearly always resemble those from whom they spring, and are often even better; but if they have no one to give them proper attention, they grow wild and never reach maturity. It is true that, through the favour of the stars or of Nature, certain people come into the world endowed with such gifts that they seem not to have been born but to have been formed by some god with his own hands and blessed with every possible advantage of mind and body. Similarly, there are many to be found so uncouth and absurd that it can be believed simply that Nature was motivated by spite or mockery in bringing them into the world at all. Just as even with unceasing diligence and careful training the latter cannot usually be made to bear fruit, so with only the slightest effort the former reach the summit of excellence. And to give you an example, look at Don Ippolito d'Este, Cardinal of Ferrara, whose fortunate birth has influenced his person, his appearance, his words and all his actions. Because of this favour, despite his youth, even among the most venerable cardinals he carries such weighty authority that he seems more suited to teach than to be taught. Similarly, when conversing with men and women of every sort, when playing or laughing or joking, he has such charming ways and such a gracious manner that anyone who speaks to, or merely sets eyes on the Cardinal feels a lasting affection for him. However, to return to the subject, I say that between such supreme grace and such absurd folly can be found a middle way, and that those who are not perfectly endowed by Nature can, through care and effort, polish and to a great extent correct their natural defects. So in addition to noble birth, I would have the courtier favoured in this respect, too, and receive from Nature not only talent and beauty of countenance and person but also that certain air and grace that makes him immediately pleasing and attractive to all who meet him; and this grace should be an adornment informing and accompanying all his actions, so that he appears clearly worthy of the companionship and favour of the great.'

Then, refusing to wait any longer, signor Gaspare Pallavicino remarked:

'So that our game may proceed as it is meant to, and to show that we are not forgetting our privilege of contradicting, let me say that I do not believe that nobility of birth is necessary for the courtier. And if I thought I was saying something new to us, I would cite many people who, though of the most noble blood, have been wicked in the extreme, and, on the other hand, many of humble birth who, through their virtues, have won glory for their descendants. And if what you have just said is true, namely, that concealed in everything is the influence of its first seed, we should all be of the same character, since we all had the same beginning; nor would anyone be more noble than another. In fact, I hold that the various gradations of elevation and lowliness that exist among us have many other causes. The first and foremost is Fortune, who rules everything that happens in this world, and often appears to amuse herself by exalting whomever she pleases, regardless of merit, or hurling down those worthiest of being raised up. I fully concur with what you said about the happiness of those endowed at birth with all the perfections of mind and body; but this is seen among those of humble origins as well as those of noble birth, since Nature has no regard for these fine distinctions. On the contrary, as I have said, the finest gifts of Nature are often found in persons of very humble family. Therefore, since this nobility of birth is acquired neither through talent nor through force or skill, and is a matter for congratulating one's ancestors rather than oneself, it seems very odd to insist that, if the courtier's parents are of low birth, all his good qualities are spoilt and the other qualities you have mentioned are insufficient to bring him to the height of perfection: these being talent, good looks and disposition, and the grace which makes a person always pleasing at first sight.'

Count Lodovico answered:'I do not deny that the same virtues can exist in men of low birth as in those of noble family. However, not to repeat what we have said already, let me give one more reason among many for praising nobility of birth, which, since it stands to reason that good should beget good, everyone always respects; and it is that (since we are to create a courtier without any defects, and endowed with every kind of merit) he must be a nobleman if only because of the immediate impression this makes on all concerned. For given two gentlemen of the Court, neither of whom as yet has shown what he is like by his actions, either good or bad, as soon as it is discovered that one of them was well born and the other not, the latter will be respected far less than the former, and only after a great deal of time and effort will he win the good opinion that the other acquires instantly, merely because of his nobility. It is well understood how important these impressions are, for, speaking of ourselves, we have seen men coming to this house who, although very stupid and dull, have been regarded throughout Italy as very great courtiers; and even though they were eventually found out, they still fooled us for a long time and sustained in our minds the opinion of themselves already formed before they arrived, despite the fact that their behaviour was in keeping with their lack of merit. We have seen others, who were regarded with very little favour to begin with, eventually meet with great success. Now there are various reasons for these mistakes, including the obstinacy of princes who, in the hope of achieving a miraculous transformation, sometimes deliberately favour someone who they know does not deserve it. Then again, sometimes they are themselves deceived; but, since princes always have countless imitators, their favour confers considerable fame which in turn influences the rest of us. And if people discover something that seems to contradict the prevailing opinion, they accept that they are mistaken and they always wait for some revelation. This is because it seems that what is universally believed must be based on true and reasonable grounds. Moreover, we are always most anxious to take sides either passionately for or against, as can be seen in public combats or games or any kind of contest, where the onlookers often for no clear reason favour one or other of the participants, desperately anxious that he should win and his opponent lose. Then as regards men's characters, their good or bad reputation, as soon as we hear of it, arouses in us either love or hatred, so that for the most part we judge on the basis of one of these emotions. So you see how important are first impressions, and how hard a man must strive to give a good impression at the beginning if he is ambitious to win the rank and name of a good courtier.

'But to come to specific details, I judge that the first and true profession of the courtier must be that of arms; and this above everything else I wish him to pursue vigorously. Let him also stand out from the rest as enterprising, bold, and loyal to whomever he serves. And he will win a good reputation by demonstrating these qualities whenever and wherever possible, since failure to do so always incurs the gravest censure. Just as once a woman's reputation for purity has been sullied it can never be restored, so once the reputation of a gentleman-at-arms has been stained through cowardice or some other reproachful behaviour, even if only once, it always remains defiled in the eyes of the world and covered with ignominy. The more our courtier excels in this art, therefore, the more praise he will deserve, although I do not think he needs to have the professional knowledge of such things and the other qualities appropriate to a military commander. However, since the subject of what constitutes a great captain takes us into very deep waters, we shall be content, as we said, for the courtier to show complete loyalty and an undaunted spirit, and for these to be always in evidence. For men demonstrate their courage far more often in little things than in great. Very often in the face of appalling danger but where there are numerous witnesses one will find those who, though ready to drop dead with fear, driven on by shame or the presence of others, will press forward, with their eyes closed, and do their duty; and only God knows how. But in things of trifling importance, when they believe they can avoid danger without its being noticed, they are only too willing to play for safety. As for those who, even when they are sure they are not being observed or seen or recognized by anyone, are full of ardour and avoid doing anything, no matter how trivial, for which they would incur reproach, they possess the temper and quality we are looking for in our courtier. All the same, we do not wish the courtier to make a show of being so fierce that he is always blustering and bragging, declaring that he is married to his cuirass, and glowering with the haughty looks that we know only too well in Berto. To these may very fairly be said what a worthy lady once remarked jokingly, in polite company, to a certain man (I don't want just now to mention him by name) whom she had honoured by asking him to dance and who not only refused but would not listen to music or take part in the many other entertainments offered, protesting all the while that such frivolities were not his business. And when at length the lady asked what his business was, he answered with a scowl:"Fighting . . ."

' "Well then," the lady retorted, "I should think that since you aren't at war at the moment and you are not engaged in fighting, it would be a good thing if you were to have yourself well greased and stowed away in a cupboard with all your fighting equipment, so that you avoid getting rustier than you are already."'

'And of course everyone burst out laughing at the way she showed her contempt for his stupid presumption.

'Therefore,' Count Lodovico went on, 'the man we are seeking should be fierce, rough and always to the fore, in the presence of the enemy; but anywhere else he should be kind, modest, reticent and anxious above all to avoid ostentation or the kind of outrageous selfglorification by which a man always arouses loathing and disgust among those who have to listen to him.'

'As for me,' signor Gaspare replied, 'I have very seldom known men who are any good at anything who do not praise themselves. It seems to me that it is only right to allow them to do so, since, when a man who knows he is of some worth sees what he does being ignored, he grows angry at the way his qualities are hidden from sight and is forced to reveal them in some way lest he be cheated of the honour which is the rightful prize for virtuous endeavour. Thus, among the writers of the ancient world, rarely does anyone of any worth refrain from praising himself. Those who praise themselves even though they lack merit are certainly intolerable; but then we assume that our courtier will not be one of them.'

At this, the Count said:

'If you were listening, what I did was to censure those who praise themselves extravagantly and brashly. But I certainly agree that it would be wrong to take exception when a worthy man indulges in some modest self-praise; indeed it is then more convincing than if it comes from someone else. What I am saying is that a man who praises himself in the right way, and does not cause envy or annoyance in doing so, is well within the bounds of discretion; and he deserves the praise of others as well as what he allows himself, because he is achieving something very difficult.'

'You must teach us how to do it,' remarked signor Gaspare.

'Well,' the Count replied, 'there are those who taught this among the writers of the ancient world. However, in my opinion it all depends on saying things in such a way that they do not seem to be spoken with that end in view, but are so very much to the purpose that one cannot refrain from saying them; and also on giving the impression of avoiding self-praise, while indulging in it: but not in the style of those braggarts who open their mouths and let the words pour out heedlessly. As one of our own did the other day, who, after he had had his thigh run through by a spear at Pisa, said he thought a fly had stung him; and another who said he didn't keep a looking-glass in his room because when he lost his temper his expression was so terrible that if he saw it he would frighten himself to death.'

Everyone laughed at this, but Cesare Gonzaga added:

'What are you laughing at? Don't you know that after Alexander the Great had heard that in the opinion of a certain philosopher there were countless other worlds, he began to weep, and when asked why he did so, he replied: "Because I haven't yet conquered a single one" – as if he had it in him to conquer them all? Doesn't this seem to you to be more boastful than that remark about the fly?'

Then the Count remarked:

'And Alexander was a greater man than the one who mentioned the fly. But surely we must forgive outstanding men when they presume too much of themselves? After all, a man who has to achieve great things must have the courage to do them and must have confidence in himself. He should not be cowardly or abject, though he should be modest in his words, presuming less of himself than he achieves and being careful, too, that his presumption does not turn to rashness.'

After the Count had fallen silent for a moment, Bernardo Bibbiena said, with a smile:

'I remember your saying earlier that this courtier of ours should be naturally endowed with beauty of countenance and person and with an attractive grace. Well, I feel sure that I possess both grace and beauty of countenance, and that's why so many women, as you know, are madly in love with me. But when it comes to the beauty of my person, I am rather doubtful, and especially as regards these legs of mine which do not seem to me to be as good as I would wish; still, as to my chest and so on, I am quite satisfied. So please explain in more detail about what shape of body one should have, so that I can extricate myself from doubt and put my mind at rest.'

After everyone had laughed at this for a moment, the Count said:

'Certainly it's no lie to say that you possess the grace of countenance that I mentioned, and I have no need of any other example to illustrate it; for undoubtedly we can see that your appearance is very agreeable and pleasing to all, even if your features are not very delicate, though then again you manage to appear both manly and graceful. This is a quality found in many different kinds of faces. And I would like our courtier to have the same aspect. I don't want him to appear soft and feminine as so many try to do, when they not only cuff their hair and pluck their eyebrows but also preen themselves like the most wanton and dissolute creatures imaginable. Indeed, they appear so effeminate and languid in the way they walk, or stand, or do anything at all, that their limbs look as if they are about to fall apart; and they pronounce their words in such a drawling way that it seems as if they are about to expire on the spot. And the more they find themselves in the company of men of rank, the more they carry on like that. Since Nature has not in fact made them the ladies they want to seem and be, they should be treated not as honest women but as common whores and be driven out from all gentlemanly society, let alone the Courts of great lords.

'Then, as for the physical appearance of the courtier, I would say that all that is necessary is that he should be neither too small nor too big, since either of these two conditions causes a certain contemptuous wonder and men built in this way are stared at as if they were monsters. However, if one is forced to choose between the two evils, then it is better to be on the small side than unduly large; for men who are so huge are often found to be rather thick-headed, and moreover, they are also unsuited for sport and recreation, which I think most important for the courtier. So I wish our courtier to be well built, with finely proportioned members, and I would have him demonstrate strength and lightness and suppleness and be good at all the physical exercises befitting a warrior. Here, I believe, his first duty is to know how to handle expertly every kind of weapon, either on foot or mounted, to understand all their finer points, and to be especially well informed about all those weapons commonly used among gentlemen. For apart from their use in war, when perhaps the finer points may be neglected, often differences arise between one gentleman and another and lead to duels, and very often the weapons used are those that come immediately to hand. So, for safety's sake, it is important to know about them. And I am not one of those who assert that all skill is forgotten in a fight; because anyone who loses his skill at such a time shows that he has allowed his fear to rob him of his courage and his wits.

'I also believe that it is of the highest importance to know how to wrestle, since this often accompanies combat on foot. Next, both for his own sake and for his friends, the courtier should understand about seeking restitution and the conduct of disputes, and he should be skilled in seizing the advantage, and in all this he must show both courage and prudence. Nor should he be too anxious for these engagements, save when his honour demands it; for, as well as the considerable danger that an uncertain outcome brings with it, whoever rushes into these things precipitately and without urgent cause deserves to be gravely censured, even if he is successful. However, when a man has committed himself so far that he cannot withdraw without reproach then both in the preliminaries and in the duel itself he should be very deliberate. He should always show readiness and courage; and he should not behave like those who are always quibbling and arguing over points of honour, and when they have the choice of weapons, select those which can neither cut nor prick, arm themselves as if they had to face a cannonade, and thinking it enough if they are not defeated, retreat all the time and keep on the defensive, giving proof of utter cowardice, and in this way making themselves the sport of children, like those two men from Ancona who fought at Perugia a little while ago, and made everyone who saw them burst out laughing.'

'And who were they?' asked Gaspare Pallavicino.

'Two cousins,' answered Cesare.

'And in their fighting, more like two dear brothers,'said the Count. Then he continued:

'Weapons are also often used in various sports during peacetime, and gentlemen often perform in public spectacles before the people and before ladies and great lords. So I wish our courtier to be an accomplished and versatile horseman and, as well as having a knowledge of horses and all the matters to do with riding, he should put every effort and diligence into surpassing the rest just a little in everything, so that he may always be recognized as superior. And as we read of Alcibiades, that he surpassed all those peoples among whom he lived, and each time in regard to what they daimed to be best at, so this courtier of ours should outstrip all others, and in regard to the things they know well. Thus it is the peculiar excellence of the Italians to ride well with the rein, to handle spirited horses very skilfully, and to tilt and joust; so in all this the courtier should compare with the best of them. In tourneys, in holding his ground, in forcing his way forward, he should compare with the best of the French; in volleying, in running bulls, in casting spears and darts, he should be outstanding among the Spaniards. But, above all, he should accompany his every act with a certain grace and fine judgement if he wishes to earn that universal regard which everyone covets.

'There are also many other sports which, although they do not directly require the use of weapons, are closely related to arms and demand a great deal of manly exertion. Among these it seems to me that hunting is the most important, since in many ways it resembles warfare; moreover, it is the true pastime of great lords, it is a suitable pursuit for a courtier, and we know that it was very popular in the ancient world. It is also fitting that the courtier should know how to swim, jump, run and cast the stone for, apart from the usefulness of these accomplishments in war, one is often required to display one's skill and such sports can help to build up a good reputation, especially with the crowd which the courtier always has to humour. Another noble sport which is very suitable for the courtier to play is tennis, for this shows how well he is built physically, how quick and agile he is in every member, and whether he has all the qualities demonstrated in most other games. I think no less highly of performing on horseback, which is certainly very exhausting and difficult but more than anything else serves to make a man wonderfully agile and dextrous; and apart from its usefulness, if agility on horseback is accompanied by gracefulness, in my opinion it makes a finer spectade than any other sport. Then if our courtier possesses more than average skill in all these sports, I think he should ignore the others, such as turning cartwheels, tight-rope walking and that kind of thing, since these are more like acrobatics and hardly suitable for a gentleman. Then again, since one cannot always be taking part in such strenuous exercises (besides which constant repetition causes satiety and destroys the regard we have for rare things) one must always be sure to give variety to the way one lives by doing different things. So I would like the courtier sometimes to descend to calmer and more restful games, and to escape envy and enter pleasantly into the company of all the others by doing everything they do; although he should never fail to behave in a commendable manner and should rule all his actions with that good judgement which will not allow him to take part in any foolishness. Let him laugh, jest, banter, romp and dance, though in a fashion that always reflects good sense and discretion, and let him say and do everything with grace.'

Then Cesare Gonzaga said:'It is certainly too soon to interrupt this discussion, but if I stay silent I shall not be taking advantage of my privilege of speaking and I shall fail to learn something more. And I hope I may be forgiven if I ask a question instead of contradicting. I believe this may be allowed me, following the example set by our Bernardo who, through his excessive desire to be thought handsome, has already violated the laws of our game by doing the same.'

'You see,' the Duchess commented, 'how a single transgression leads to any number of others. So the one who sins and gives a bad example, as Bemardo has done, deserves to be punished not only for his wrongdoing but also for that of the others.'

Then Cesare remarked:'In that case, madam, I will be exempt from any penalty, since Bernardo is to be punished both for his own transgression and for mine.'

'On the contrary,' said the Duchess, 'you must both of you be punished twice: he for his own wrongdoing and for having persuaded you to err, and you for your own mistake and for having imitated the criminal.'

'Madam,' answered Cesare, 'I've done nothing crimi nal so far; so in order to let Bernardo have all the punishment to himself I'll keep quiet.'

He had already stopped talking when signora Emilia said with a laugh:

'Say whatever you please, because, if the Duchess allows, I shall forgive both the one who has transgressed and the one who is going to do something nearly as bad.'

Said the Duchess:'Very well, then. But take care you do not deceive yourself and perhaps think that you deserve more praise for being dement than for being just. For if one is too forgiving with a transgressor, one injures the innocent. However, I don't want my sternness in reproaching your indulgence to mean that we fail to hear what Cesare has to ask.'

So then, at a sign from the Duchess and from signora Emilia, he at once began:

'If I remember rightly, my dear Count, it seems to me that you have repeated several times this evening that the courtier has to imbue with grace his movements, his gestures, his way of doing things and in short, his every action. And it appears to me that you require this in everything as the seasoning without which all other attributes and good qualities would be almost worthless. Now I admit that everyone should easily be persuaded of this, seeing that, by the very meaning of the word, it can be said that a man who behaves with grace finds it with others. You have said that this is very often a natural, God-given gift, and that even if it is not quite perfect it can be greatly enhanced by application and effort. It seems to me that those who are born as fortunate and as rich in such treasures as some we know have little need of any further instruction, since the gracious favour they have received from heaven raises them, almost despite themselves, higher than they might have desired, and makes everyone both like and admire them. I do not argue about this, since it is not in our power to acquire it of ourselves. But regarding those who receive from Nature only so much as to make it possible for them to acquire grace through enterprise, application and effort, I should like to know by what art, teaching and method they can gain this grace, both in sport and recreation which you believe are so important, and in everything else they say or do. Now since by praising this quality so highly you have, I believe, aroused in all of us a strong desire to obtain it, because of the task given you by signora Emilia, you are also obliged to satisfy us by teaching the way to do so. '

'I am not obliged, ' said the Count, 'to teach you how to acquire grace, or indeed anything else, but only to show you what a perfect courtier should be. And I would not undertake the task of teaching you how to acquire this quality, especially as a little while ago I said that the courtier ought to know how to wrestle, and vault and so many other things which, never having learned them myself, I'm sure you know full well how I could teach them. Let it be enough that just as a good soldier knows how to tell the smith what style and shape and quality his armour should be, and yet cannot teach him how to hammer or temper it, so perhaps I shall know how to tell you what a perfect courtier should be, but not be able to teach you what you have to do to become one. However, although it is almost proverbial that grace cannot be learned, to satisfy your request as far as I can, I say that if anyone is to acquire grace as a sportsman or athlete (first assuming that he is not disqualified by Nature) he should start young and learn the principles from the best teachers. How important this seemed to King Philip of Macedon, for instance, can be seen from the fact that he wanted it to be Aristotle, the eminent philosopher, and perhaps the greatest ever, who should teach the elements of letters to his son Alexander. Then, coming to our own contemporaries, consider the physical grace and agility of Signor Galleazzo Sanseverino, Grand Equerry of France, who performs so well in this respect because in addition to his natural aptitude he has made every endeavour to learn from good teachers and to keep company with outstanding men, taking from each of them the best he can give. Thus just as for wrestling, vaulting and the handling of various kinds of weapons he has taken as his guide our Pietro Monte, who as you know is the sole and unchallenged master in regard to every kind of trained strength and agility, so for riding, jousting and so forth he has always taken as his models those who have won recognition for such skills.

'Therefore anyone who wants to be a good pupil must not only do things well but must also make a constant effort to imitate and, if possible, exactly reproduce his master. And when he feels he has made some progress it is very profitable for him to observe different kinds of courtiers and, ruled by the good judgement that must always be his guide, take various qualities now from one man and now from another. Just as in the summer fields the bees wing their way among the plants from one flower to the next, so the courtier must acquire this grace from those who appear to possess it and take from each one the quality that seems most commendable. And he should certainly not act like a friend of ours, whom you all know, who thought that he greatly resembled King Ferdinand the Younger of Aragon, but had not tried to imitate him except in the way he raised his head and twisted a corner of his mouth, a habit which the King had acquired through illness. There are many like this, who think they are marvellous if they can simply resemble a great man in some one thing; and often they seize on the only defect he has. However, having already thought a great deal about how this grace is acquired, and leaving aside those who are endowed with it by their stars, I have discovered a universal rule which seems to apply more than any other in all human actions or words: namely, to steer away from affectation at all costs, as if it were a rough and dangerous reef, and (to use perhaps a novel word for it) to practise in all things a certain nonchalance which conceals all artistry and makes whatever one says or does seem uncontrived and effortless. I am sure that grace springs especially from this, since everyone knows how difficult it is to accomplish some unusual feat perfectly, and so facility in such things excites the greatest wonder; whereas, in contrast, to labour at what one is doing and, as we say, to make bones over it, shows an extreme lack of grace and causes everything whatever its worth, to be discounted. So we can truthfully say that true art is what does not seem to be art; and the most important thing is to conceal it, because if it is revealed this discredits a man completely and ruins his reputation. I remember once having read of certain outstanding orators of the ancient world who, among the other things they did, tried hard to make everyone believe that they were ignorant of letters; and, dissembling their knowledge, they made their speeches appear to have been composed very simply and according to the promptings of Nature and truth rather than effort and artifice. For if the people had known of their skills, they would have been frightened of being deceived. So you see that to reveal intense application and skill robs everything of grace. Who is there among you who doesn't laugh when our Pierpaolo dances in that way of his, with those little jumps and with his legs stretched on tiptoe, keeping his head motionless, as if he were made of wood, and all so laboured that he seems to be counting every step? Who is so blind that he doesn't see in this the dumsiness of affectation? And in contrast we see in many of the men and women who are with us now, that graceful and nonchalant spontaneity (as it is often called) because of which they seem to be paying little, if any, attention to the way they speak or laugh or hold themselves, so that those who are watching them imagine that they couldn't and wouldn't ever know how to make a mistake.'

[ . . . ]

At this point, signora Emilia interrupted:'It seems to me that this argument of yours has grown too protracted and tedious. So it would be as well to postpone it to another time.'

Federico started to answer all the same, but signora Emilia refused to let him; and eventually the Count remarked:

'There are many who want to judge style and discuss the rhythms of language and the question of imitation, yet cannot explain to me what style and rhythm are, or how to define imitation, or why things taken from Homer or someone else read so well in Virgil that they seem improved rather than plagiarized. Perhaps the reason for this is that I am not capable of understanding them. But since it is a convincing proof of whether a man understands something that he has the ability to teach it, I fear that they understand it very little themselves, and that they praise both Virgil and Cicero because they are aware that many others praise them and not because they recognize the difference between them and the rest. For certainly the difference does not consist in their preserving a few words or so in a usage different from that of the others. In Sallust, in Caesar, in Varro and in other good writers we find several terms used differently from the way Cicero employs them; yet both ways are perfectly acceptable, since the strength and genius of a language does not consist in such trifles: as Demosthenes rightly said to Aeschines, who asked him sarcastically whether some of the words he had used, which were not Attic, were monsters or portents; and Demosthenes simply laughed at this and replied that the fortunes of Greece hardly depended on that. So what cause should I have to worry if some Tuscan or other reproved me for saying satisfatto rather than sodisfatto, onorevole rather than orrevole, causa rather than cagione, populo rather than popolo and so forth?'＊

At this Federico stood up and exclaimed:'Now I beg you, listen to me for a moment.'

But signora Emilia said with a laugh:'No, I shall be most displeased with any one of you who continues with this subject at the moment, for I wish the discussion to be postponed until another evening. But you, my dear Count, please continue with your discussion of the courtier, and show us what a good memory you have, because I think that if you can begin where you left off it will be quite a feat.'

'I fear,' answered the Count, 'that I have lost the thread. However, unless I am mistaken, we were saying that the taint of affectation always robs everything of grace and that the highest degree of grace is conferred by simplicity and nonchalance, in praise of which, and in condemnation of affectation, much more could be said. However, I want to add just one more thing and that is all. Now, every woman is extremely anxious to be beautiful or at least, failing that, to appear so. So when Nature has fallen short in some way, she endeavours to remedy the failure by artificial means. That is why we have women beautifying their faces so carefully and sometimes painfully, plucking their eyebrows and forehead, and using all those tricks and suffering all those little agonies which you ladies imagine men know nothing about but which they know only too well. '

Here, madonna Costanza Fregoso laughed and said:'It would be far more courteous of you to continue with your discussion and to say what is the source of grace and speak of courtiership, rather than seek to expose the faults of women to no purpose. '

'On the contrary, it is very much to the purpose,'answered the Count, 'because these faults of yours that I mention rob you of grace, seeing that they spring only from affectation, through which you make it clear to everyone that you are excessively anxious to be beautiful. Surely you realize how much more graceful a woman is who, if indeed she wishes to do so, paints herself so sparingly and so little that whoever looks at her is unsure whether she is made-up or not, in comparison with one whose face is so encrusted that she seems to be wearing a mask and who dare not laugh for fear of causing it to crack, and who changes colour only when she dresses in the morning, after which she stays stock-still all the rest of the day, like a wooden statue, letting herself be seen only by torchlight, in the way a wily merchant shows his cloth in a dark corner. How much more attractive than all the others is a pretty woman who is quite dearly wearing no make-up on her face, which is neither too pallid nor too red, and whose own colouring is natural and somewhat pale (but who occasionally blushes openly from embarrassment or for some other reason), who lets her unadorned hair fall casually and unarranged, and whose gestures are simple and natural, betraying no effort or anxiety to be beautiful. Such is the uncontrived simplicity which is most attractive to the eyes and minds of men, who are always afraid of being tricked by art. In a woman, lovely teeth are always very pleasing, for since they are hidden from view most of the time, unlike the rest of the face, it can be believed that less effort has been spent on making them look beautiful; and yet those who laugh to no purpose and merely to display their teeth, betray their artificiality, and however goodlooking they may be would seem to everyone most ungraceful, like Catullus' Egnatius. The same is true of the hands which, if they are delicate and fine, and are uncovered at the right time, when there is need to use and not just to display their beauty, leave one with a great desire to see more of them, especially after they have been covered again with gloves. For it appears that the person who covers them hardly cares or worries whether they are seen or not, and has beautiful hands more by Nature than through any effort or design. Surely, too, you have sometimes noticed when a woman, passing along the street on her way perhaps to church, happens, in play or for some other reason, to raise just enough of her skirts to reveal her foot and often a little of her leg as well. Does it not strike you as a truly graceful sight if she is seen just at that moment, delightfully feminine, showing her velvet ribbons and pretty stockings? Certainly I find it very agreeable, as I'm sure you all do, because everyone assumes that elegance in a place where it is generally hidden from view must be uncontrived and natural rather than carefully calculated, and that it cannot be intended to win admiration.

'In this way affectation is avoided or hidden; and now you can see how incompatible it is with gracefulness and how it robs of charm every movement of the body or of the soul, about which, admittedly, we have so far said very little. However, we should not neglect it; for, as the soul is far more worthy than the body, it deserves to be all the more cultivated and adorned. As for what our courtier ought to do in this respect, we shall leave aside the precepts of all the many wise philosophers who have written on the subject, defining the virtues of the soul and discussing their worth with such subtlety; instead, keeping to our purpose, we shall state very simply that it is enough if he is, as we say, a man of honour and integrity. For this includes prudence, goodness, fortitude and temperance of soul, and all the other qualities proper to so honourable a name. And I believe that he alone is a true moral philosopher who wishes to be good; and for this he needs few precepts other than the ambition itself. Therefore Socrates was perfectly right in affirming that in his opinion his teaching bore good fruit when it encouraged someone to strive to know and understand virtue; for those who have reached the stage where they desire nothing more eagerly than to be good have no trouble in learning all that is necessary. So I shall say no more about this.

However, in addition to goodness, I believe that for all of us the true and principal adornment of the mind is letters; although the French, I know, recognize only the nobility of arms and think nothing of all the rest; and so they not only do not appreciate learning but detest it, regarding men of letters as basely inferior and thinking it a great insult to call anyone a scholar. '

Then the Magnifico Giuliano remarked:

'You are right in saying that this error has prevailed among the French for a long time now; but if good fortune has it that Monseigneur d'Angoulême, as it is hoped, succeeds to the throne, then I believe that just as the glory of arms flourishes and shines in France, so also with the greatest brilliance must that of letters. For, when I was at that Court not so long ago, I set eyes on this prince, and it seemed to me that, besides his hand some looks, there was such an air of greatness about him, accompanied, however, by a certain gracious humanity, that the kingdom of France on its own must always seem too limited for him. And subsequently from many gentlemen, both French and Italian, I heard a great deal in praise of his noble courtesy, his magnanimity, his valour and his generous spirit; and among other things I was told that he greatly loved and esteemed learning and respected all men of letters, and that he condemned the French themselves for being so hostile to this profession, especially as they have in their midst as magnificent a university as Paris, where people flock from all over the world.'

Then the Count added:'It is a marvellous thing that at such a tender age, guided solely by his natural instincts and departing from the usual attitudes of his countrymen, he should of himself have chosen so commendable a path. And since subjects always imitate the behaviour of their rulers, it could well be, as you say, that the French may yet come to value learning at its true worth. They could easily be persuaded to if they would listen to reason, since nothing is more naturally desired by men or more proper to them than knowledge, and it is the height of folly to say or believe that it is not always a good thing.

'If I could speak with them or with others whose opinion does not agree with mine I would endeavour to show them how useful and necessary letters are to human dignity and life. For they were surely given by God as his supreme gift to mankind. And I should not lack examples from among those many great commanders of the ancient world, in all of whom prowess at arms was accompanied by the glory of learning. For, as you know, Alexander revered Homer so highly that he always kept the Iliad at his bedside. And he gave the greatest attention not only to these studies but also to philosophical speculations, under the guidance of Aristotle. Taught by Socrates, Alcibiades used letters to increase and enhance his good qualifies. The attention which Caesar gave to study is attested by his own inspired writings. It is said that Scipio Africanus constantly had by him the works of Xenophon, in which, under the name of Cyrus, is drawn the portrait of a perfect king. I could cite Lucullus, Sulla, Pompey, Brutus and many other Romans and Greeks; but I shall just remind you that so excellent a commander as Hannibal, though naturally fierce and a stranger to humanity, treacherous and contemptuous both of men and the gods, none the less was something of a scholar and understood the Greek language. And if I am not mistaken I once read that he even left a book written by himself in Greek. But there is no call to tell you this, since I well know that you all realize how wrong the French are in thinking that letters are detrimental to arms. You know that in war what really spurs men on to bold deeds is the desire for glory, whereas anyone who acts for gain or from any other motive not only fails to accomplish anything worth while but deserves to be called a miserable merchant rather than a gentleman. And it is true glory that is entrusted to the sacred treasury of letters, as everyone knows except those who are so unfortunate as not to have made their acquaintance. When he reads about the great deeds of Caesar, Alexander, Scipio, Hannibal and all the others, who is so cringing, timorous and abject that he does not burn with the ambition to emulate them and is not ready to relinquish his all too brief natural life in favour of an almost eternal fame, which makes him live on more splendidly after death? But those who do not appreciate the pleasures of learning cannot realize how great is the glory that they preserve for so long, and measure it only by the life of one or two men, since their own memories are limited. The kind of glory of which they have experience is nothing in comparison with the almost everlasting glory about which, unfortunately, they know nothing; and since, therefore, glory means so little to them, we may reasonably believe that, unlike those who understand its nature, they will run few risks in pursuing it. Now someone may object to what I am saying and attempt to disprove it by various examples: citing, for instance, the knowledge of letters shown by the Italians compared with their lack of valour on the battlefield during recent years. This is only too true; but surely it may be said that here the weakness of a few has inflicted grave misfortune along with lasting infamy on the many, and they are responsible for our ruin and the way our spirit has been weakened if not crushed. Yet it would be more shameful for us to make this known to the world than it is for the French to be ignorant of letters; so it is better to pass over in silence what we cannot recall without sorrow, and leaving this subject (which I took up unwillingly) to return to our courtier.

'I should like our courtier to be a more than average scholar, at least in those studies which we call the humanities; and he should have a knowledge of Greek as well as Latin, because of the many different things that are so beautifully written in that language. He should be very well acquainted with the poets, and no less with the orators and historians, and also skilled at writing both verse and prose, especially in our own language; for in addition to the satisfaction this will give him personally, it will enable him to provide constant entertainment for the ladies, who are usually very fond of such things. But if because of his other activities or through lack of study he fails to achieve a commendable standard in his writing, then he should take pains to suppress his work, to avoid ridicule, and he should show it only to a friend he can trust. And the exercise of writing will be profitable for him at least to the extent that it will teach him how to judge the work of others. For it is very unusual for someone who is not a practised writer, however erudite he may be, to understand completely the demanding work done by writers, or appreciate their stylistic accomplishments and triumphs and those subtle details characteristic of the writers of the ancient world. Moreover, these studies will make our courtier well informed and eloquent and(as Aristippus said to the tyrant) self-confident and assured no matter whom he is talking to. However, I should like our courtier to keep one precept firmly in mind: namely, that in what I have just discussed and in everything else he should always be diffident and reserved rather than forward, and he should be on his guard against assuming that he knows what he does not know. For we are instinctively all too greedy for praise, and there is no sound or song that comes sweeter to our ears; praise, like Sirens' voices, is the kind of music that causes shipwreck to the man who does not stop his ears to its deceptive harmony. Recognizing this danger, some of the philosophers of the ancient world wrote books giving advice on how a man can tell the difference between a true friend and a flatterer. Even so, we may well ask what use is this, seeing that there are so many who realize perfectly well that they are listening to flattery, and yet love the flatterer and detest the one who tells them the truth. Indeed, very often, deciding that the one who praises them is not being fulsome enough, they lend him a hand themselves and say such things that even the most outrageous flatterer feels ashamed. Let us leave these blind fools to their errors and decide that our courtier should possess such good judgement that he will not be told that black is white or presume anything of himself unless he is certain that it is true, and especially in regard to those flaws which, if you remember, when he was suggesting his game for the evening Cesare recalled we had often used to demonstrate the particular folly of this person or another. To make no mistake at all, the courtier should, on the contrary, when he knows the praises he receives are deserved, not assent to them too openly nor let them pass without some protest. Rather he should tend to disclaim them modestly, always giving the impression that arms are, as indeed they should be, his chief profession, and that all his other fine accomplishments serve merely as adornments; and this should especially be his attitude when he is in the company of soldiers, lest he behave like those who in the world of scholarship want to be taken for warriors and among warriors want to seem men of letters. In this way, as we have said, he will avoid affectation, and even his modest achievements will appear great.'

[ . . . ]

注释

＊ The Italian words cited by Count Lodovico mean: satisfied, honourable, cause and people.

The Second Book of the Courtier

'To continue the arguments of these gentlemen, which I wholly confirm and approve, I maintain that among the things we call good there are some that are always good simply in themselves, such as temperance, fortitude, health and all the virtues that foster peace of mind; and there are others that are good in various respects and depending on the end to which they are directed, such as laws, liberality, riches and so forth. I consider, therefore, that the perfect courtier, as Count Lodovico and Federico have described him, can indeed be good and praiseworthy, not, however, simply in himself but in regard to the end to which he is directed. For, to be sure, if the only fruit produced by the courtier's noble birth, gracefulness, charm and skills were just himself, I should not consider it right for a man to put into acquiring the perfection of courtiership all the study and effort that are certainly necessary. On the contrary, I should claim that many of the skills that have been attributed to him, such as dancing, entertaining, singing and playing games, were vain and frivolous, and in a man of rank deserving of censure rather than praise. For these elegances of dress, devices, mottoes and other such things that belong to the world of women and romance often, despite what many may think, serve simply to make men effeminate, to corrupt the young and to lead them into dissolute ways. And the consequences are that the name of Italy is brought into disgrace and there are few who have the courage I shall not say to die, but even to take a risk. And certainly there are countless other things which would be of far greater benefit in both peace and war, given the same amount of study and effort, than this kind of sterile courtiership. But if the activities of the courtier are directed as they should be to the virtuous end I have in mind, then I for one am quite convinced not only that they are neither harmful nor vain but that they are most advantageous and deserving of infinite praise.

'In my opinion, therefore, the end of the perfect courtier (which we have so far left untouched) is, by means of the accomplishments attributed to him by these gentle men, so to win for himself the mind and favour of the prince he serves that he can and always will tell him the truth about all he needs to know, without fear or risk of displeasing him. And, if he knows that his prince is of a mind to do something unworthy, he should be in a position to dare to oppose him, and make courteous use of the favour his good qualities have won to remove every evil intention and persuade him to return to the path of virtue. Thus if the courtier is endowed with the goodness these gentle-men have attributed to him, as well as being quick-witted and charming, prudent and scholarly and so forth, he will always have the skill to make his prince realize the honour and advantages that accrue to him and his family from justice, liberality, magnanimity, gentleness and all the other virtues befitting a ruler, and on the other hand, the infamy and loss that result from practising the vices opposed to these virtues. Therefore I consider that just as music, festivities, games and other agreeable accomplishments are, so to speak, the flower of courtiership, so its real fruit is to encourage and help his prince to be virtuous and to deter him from evil. Then we must consider that the merit of good deeds consists in two principal things: to choose a truly virtuous end for our intentions, and to know how to find convenient and suitable means for its attainment. And so it necessarily follows that a man who strives to ensure that his prince is not deceived by anyone, does not listen to flatterers or slanderers or liars, and distinguishes between good and evil, loving the one and detesting the other, aims at the best end of all.

'It seems to me also that the accomplishments these gentlemen have attributed to the courtier can be a good means of attaining the end I have in mind; and this is because of the many faults we see in our present-day rulers the greatest are ignorance and conceit. And the root of these two evils is nothing other than falsehood, which is a vice rightly detestable to God and man and more harmful to princes than any other. For princes lack most of all what they must have in the fullest measure, namely, someone to tell them the truth and remind them of what is right. For those who are hostile to the prince are not prompted by affection to perform these offices; on the contrary, they prefer to have him live wickedly and never correct his faults. And then again, they dare not criticize the prince openly for fear of being punished. Meanwhile, among the prince's friends there are few who have free access to him, and these few are wary of reproaching him for his faults as freely as they reproach ordinary people, and often in order to win grace and favour they think only of suggesting things that are agreeable and diverting, even though they may be dishonourable and wicked. In this way, from being friends they become flatterers, and to benefit from their intimacy they always speak and act in order to gratify, and they mostly proceed by telling lies that foster ignorance in the prince's mind not only of the world around but of himself. And this can be said to be the greatest and most disastrous falsehood of all, for an ignorant mind deceives itself and lies to itself.

'The result of this is that apart from never hearing the truth of anything, princes become drunk with the power they wield, and abandoned to pleasure-seeking and amusements they become so corrupted in mind that (seeing themselves always obeyed and almost adored, with so much reverence and praise and never a hint of censure or contradiction) they pass from ignorance to extreme conceit. In consequence, they never accept anyone else's advice or opinion; and, believing that it is very easy to know how to rule and that successful government requires no art or training other than brute force, they devote all their mind and attention to maintaining the power they have and they believe that true happiness consists in being able to do what one wants. Therefore there are some princes who hate reason and justice because they think these would act as a bridle to their desires, reduce them to servitude, and if followed, rob them of the pleasures and satisfactions of their rule; and they suppose that their power would be neither perfect nor complete if they were constrained to obey the call of duty and honour, since they believe that no one who obeys is a true ruler. Therefore following on these beginnings, and letting themselves be carried away by self-conceit, they grow arrogant, and with imperious countenance and stern ways, with sumptuous dress, gold and gems, and rarely letting themselves be seen in public, they think to gain authority among men and to be regarded as gods. But these princes, to my mind, are like the giant figures that were made in Rome last year on the day of the festival in Piazza d'Agone and which outwardly looked like great men and horses in a triumph but inside were stuffed with rags and straw. However, princes of this sort are worse still. For the giant figures were held upright by their own great weight, whereas, since they are badly balanced within and out of proportion in relation to their base, the downfall of these rulers is caused by their own weight, and from one error they fall into countless others. For their ignorance and their false belief that they can do no wrong, and that their power springs from their own wisdom, prompt them to use all and every means, just or not, to usurp states whenever they have the chance.

'But if they decided to know and follow, what they ought to do, then they would strive to rule in quite other ways than they do now; for they would realize how outrageous and pernicious it is when subjects, who must be governed, are wiser than the rulers who must govern them. You will agree that there is no harm in not knowing how to play music, or dance, or ride; nevertheless, a man who is not a musician is ashamed and does not dare to sing in the presence of others, or dance if he doesn't know how, or ride if he cannot sit his horse well. Yet ignorance of how to govern peoples gives rise to so many evils, so much death, destruction, burning and ruination, that it may be said to be the deadliest plague of all; and despite that some rulers who know absolutely nothing about government are not ashamed to set about the task of governing before the eyes not of a small group of men but rather of the entire world, seeing that they are so exalted in rank that all eyes are turned towards them and hence not only their great but even their slightest defects are always observed.

[ . . . ]

'I maintain, therefore, that since nowadays rulers are so corrupted by evil living, by ignorance and by false conceit, and it is so difficult to give them an insight into the truth and lead them to virtue, and since men seek to win their favour through lies and flattery and other wicked means, the courtier easily can and should seek to gain the goodwill of his prince by means of the noble qualities given to him by Count Lodovico and Federico. Through these, he should so win over the mind of his prince that he may go to him freely whenever he wishes to discuss any subject without hindrance. And, if he is as has been described, he will succeed in this purpose without great effort and thus he will always be able to reveal the true facts on any subject very promptly. Moreover, he will gradually be able to instil virtue into his mind, to teach him continence, fortitude, justice and temperance, and enable him to relish the sweet fruit which lies under the slight bitterness first tasted by one who is struggling against his vices, which are always as harmful, offensive and notorious as the virtues are beneficial, agreeable and universally praised. And he will be able to incite his prince to virtue by the example of those famous captains and other outstanding men of whom it was customary in the ancient world to make statues of bronze and marble, and sometimes of gold, and to erect them in public places, both to honour the great and to inspire others to work to achieve the same glory through worthy emulation.

'In this way, the courtier will be able to lead his prince along the stem path of virtue, adorning it, however, with shady fronds and strewing it with gay flowers to lessen the tedium of an arduous journey for one whose endurance is slight; and so now with music, now with arms and horses, at other times with verse or with conversations about love, and with all the means these gentlemen have suggested, he will be able to keep the prince continually absorbed in innocent pleasures, while also, as I have said, always accompanying these beguilements with emphasis on some virtuous habit, and in that way practising a healthy deception like a shrewd doctor who often spreads some sweet liquid on the rim of a cup when he wants a frail and sickly child to take a bitter medicine. Thus, under the cloak of pleasure, no matter what the time, or place, or pursuit, the courtier will always achieve his objective, and for this he will deserve far greater praise and reward than for any other good work he could possibly do. For there is nothing so advantageous to mankind as a good prince, and nothing so harmful as an evil one; and it follows that no matter how cruel and atrocious, no punishment can be enough for those courtiers who turn gentle and charming manners and noble qualities to evil ends, and by these means seek to ingratiate themselves with their prince in order to corrupt him and make him stray from the path of virtue into vice. For of these it can be said that they contaminate with deadly poison not a single cup used by one person but the public fountain at which everyone must drink.'

Signor Ottaviano fell silent, as if he were unwilling to add to what he had said. But then signor Gaspare remarked:

'It does not seem to me, signor Ottaviano, that this goodness of mind and the continence and other virtues in which you wish the courtier to instruct his lord can be learned; rather, I think that the men who possess them have been given them by Nature and by God. This must be so, since you will find that there is no one in the world so wicked and ill-disposed, or so intemperate and unjust, as to confess that he is such when he is asked; on the contrary, everyone, no matter how evil, likes to be thought just, continent and good; and this would not be the case if these virtues could be learned, for it is no disgrace not to know what one hasn't studied but certainly shameful to lack what Nature should have bestowed. Thus everyone tries hard to conceal his natural defects of mind or body, as we see in the case of the blind, the lame, the crippled and all those who are maimed or ugly. For although these defects can be imputed to Nature, yet no one likes to think he has them, since then it seems that Nature herself has caused them deliberately as a seal and token of wickedness. My opinion in this is also confirmed by the story told of Epimetheus, who knew so little how to distribute the gifts of Nature among men that he left them far less well endowed than all other creatures; and so Prometheus stole from Minerva and Vulcan the ingenuity and knowledge by which men gain their livelihood. But they still lacked knowledge of the civic virtues and the moral law, because this was guarded in Jove's fortress of Olympus by most alert guardians, by whom Prometheus was so greatly intimidated that he dared not go near them. So Jove, taking pity on the wretchedness of mankind (which because of its lack of civic virtue was defenceless against the attacks of wild beasts) sent Mercury down to earth bearing justice and self-respect to adorn their cities and unite the citizens. And he decided that these should not be distributed in the same way as the other gifts of mankind, where only one man among many needs to be skilled (as in the case of medicine) but should be instilled into every single person. And under the law he ordained all those who were unjust and shameless should be exterminated and put to death as public menaces. So you see then, signor Ottaviano, that these virtues are granted to men by God, and cannot be learned since they come from Nature.'

Then signor Ottaviano replied with a smile:

'So you would have it, signor Gaspare, that men are so unhappy and perverse in their judgement that they have applied themselves to discovering ways in which to tame the natures of wild beasts, bears, wolves and lions, and by the same skills can teach a pretty bird to fly where they choose it to go and return of its own will from the woods and its natural freedom to cages and captivity, and yet no matter how hard they apply themselves they cannot and will not discover ways by which to benefit themselves and improve their minds by diligence and study? In my opinion this would be as if our doctors were to study with all diligence to acquire solely the skill to heal sore nails and baby-rash and neglect treating fevers, pleurisy and other serious diseases; and as we all realize that would be quite preposterous. I consider, therefore, that the moral virtues do not come to us entirely from Nature, because nothing can ever grow accustomed to what is naturally its opposite, as we see in the case of a stone which, if it were thrown up in the air ten thousand times would still never grow accustomed to flying upwards of itself. So if the virtues were as natural to us as weight is to a stone, we would never become accustomed to vice. Nor are the vices natural to us in this way, for then we could never be virtuous; and it would be too wicked and foolish to punish men for defects that proceed from Nature through no fault of our own. This would be an error on the part of the laws, which do not inflict punishment on wrongdoers for what they have done in the past (for what is done cannot be undone) but have regard for the future, so that the one who has erred may err no more, nor cause others to do so through his bad example. So we see that the laws accept that the virtues can be learned, and this is certainly true; for we are born capable of acquiring virtues, and similarly vices, and therefore we become habituated to the one or the other through the behaviour we adopt, first of all practising the virtues or the vices, and then becoming virtuous or vicious. But the opposite is the case with qualities that are given us by Nature, which we first of all have the potentiality to practise, and then we actually practise, as in the case of the senses. For first we have the capacity to see and hear and touch and then we do see and hear and touch; although many of these faculties too are enhanced by education. For this reason, good masters not only teach children their letters but also polite manners and correct bearing in eating, drinking, speaking and walking.

Therefore, as with other arts and skills so also with the virtues, it is necessary to have a master who by his teaching and precepts stirs and awakens the moral virtues whose seed is enclosed and buried in our souls and who, like a good farmer, cultivates and dears the way for them by removing the thorns and tares of our appetites which often so darken and choke our minds as not to let them flower or produce those splendid fruits which alone we should wish to see born in the human heart. Thus in this way justice and self-respect, which you say Jove sent on earth to all men, are natural in each one of us. But just as however robust it is a man's body may fail when seeking to accomplish some task, so, although the potentiality for these virtues is rooted within our souls, it often fails to develop unless helped by education. For if it is to pass to actuality and to its full realization, it cannot, as I said, rely on Nature alone but needs the assistance of skilful practice and reason to purify and enlighten the soul by removing from it the dark veil of ignorance, which is the cause of most human errors, since if good and evil were easily recognized and understood everyone would always choose good and eschew evil. Thus virtue may be defined more or less as prudence and the knowledge of how to choose what is good, and vice as a kind of imprudence and ignorance, which leads us into making false judgements. This is because men never choose evil deliberately but are deceived by a certain semblance of good.'

Then signor Gaspare replied:'Yet there are many who fully understand that they are doing evil, and still do it; and this is because, like thieves and murderers, they are more conscious of the pleasures of the moment than of the punishment they fear in the future. '

Signor Ottaviano remarked:'True pleasure is always good, and true suffering always evil; therefore these men deceive themselves when they take false pleasures for true and true suffering for false. And so their false pleasures often earn them genuine pain. It follows that the art that teaches us to distinguish the true from the false can certainly be learned; and the virtue which enables us to choose what is genuinely good and not what wrongly appears to be so may be called true knowledge, which is more advantageous in life than any other kind, because it rids us of the ignorance which, as I said, is the cause of all the evils there are.'

At this, Pietro Bembo said:'I do not understand, signor Ottaviano, why signor Gaspare should have to concede that all evils spring from ignorance and that there are few who realize what they are doing when they sin and do not at all deceive themselves regarding true pleasure or suffering. It is certain that even men who are incontinent form their judgement reasonably and logically, and are fully aware of the evil and sinful nature of what they desire. So they use their reason to oppose and resist their desires, and this causes the battle of pleasure and pain against judgement. Then eventually the desires prove too strong for reason, which abandons the struggle, like a ship which for a time resists the storm but finally, battered by the overwhelming fury of the winds, with anchor and rigging smashed, lets herself be driven by the tempest, unresponsive either to helm or compass. So the incontinent commit their follies with a certain hesitant remorse, as if despite themselves. And this they would not do if they did not know that what they were doing was evil; on the contrary, without any resistance from reason they would abandon themselves utterly to their desires, and in this case would not be incontinent but simply intemperate. And this is far worse, since reason plays a part in incontinence, which is therefore a less serious vice; just as continence is an imperfect virtue, since it is influenced by the emotions. In consequence, it seems to me that one cannot ascribe the follies of the incontinent to ignorance or say that they are merely deceiving themselves without sinning, when they know full well what they are doing.'

'Well,' answered signor Ottaviano, 'your argument sounds very fine. Nevertheless, I don't think that it is really valid. For although the incontinent sin in that hesitant manner, and their reason does struggle with their desires, and they realize what evil is, yet they lack flail knowledge and do not understand evil as well as they need to. Possessing only a vague notion rather than any certain knowledge of evil, they allow their reason to be overcome by emotion. But if they enjoyed true knowledge there is no doubt that they would not fall into error. For reason is always overcome by desire because of ignorance, and true knowledge can never be defeated by the emotions, which originate in the body rather than the soul. And if the emotions are properly governed and controlled by reason, then they become virtuous, and if otherwise, then vicious. However, reason is so potent that it always makes the senses obey it, insinuating itself by marvellous ways and means, provided what it ought to possess is not seized by ignorance. In this manner, though a man's faculties, nerves and bones do not possess reason, when the mind begins to stir within us it is as if thought were shaking the bridle and spurring our faculties on, so that all the parts of the body prepare themselves: the feet to run, the hands to grasp or to do what the mind suggests. This is shown by what often happens when someone unknowingly eats food that tastes delicious but is really foul and disgusting; for when he finds out what it was, his mind is revolted and dismayed, and then the body responds so quickly to his judgement that he has to vomit.'

Signor Ottaviano was going on to say more, but he was then interrupted by the Magnifico Giuliano who remarked:

'If I have heard aright, you said that continence is not a perfect virtue because it is influenced by the emotions. Yet it seems to me that when there is conflict in our minds between reason and desire, the virtue which fights and gives the victory to reason ought to be considered more perfect than that which conquers when no lust or emotion opposes it. For in the latter case the person concerned does not refrain from evil out of virtue but because he has no wish to do it.'

Then signor Ottaviano said:'Who would you think the more admirable: a commander who runs the risk of open confrontation with the enemy, and yet conquers him, or one who uses his skill and knowledge to sap the enemy's strength and render him powerless and so conquers without risk or bloodshed?'

The Magnifico replied:'The one who conquers by less dangerous means is certainly the more praiseworthy, provided that his inevitable victory is not brought about by the enemy's ineptitude.'

'You have judged aright,' said signor Ottaviano. 'And so I tell you that continence can be compared to a commander who fights manfully and who, when the enemy is strong and powerful, conquers all the same, though not without great difficulty and risk. But unruffled temperance is like the commander who conquers and rules without opposition; and when it has not only subdued but totally extinguished the fires of lust in the mind which possesses it, like a good ruler in time of civil war, temperance destroys all seditious enemies within and hands over to reason the sceptre of absolute power. Thus this virtue does no violence to the soul, but gently infuses it with a powerful persuasion that turns it to honest ways, renders it calm and full of repose, in all things even and well-tempered, and informed in all respects with a certain harmony that adorns it with serene and unshakeable tranquillity; and so in all things it is ready to respond completely to reason and to follow wherever reason may lead with the utmost docility, like a young lamb that runs and walks alongside its mother, stops when she does, and moves only in response to her. This virtue of temperance, therefore, is wholly perfect and especially appropriate for men who rule, for it gives rise to many other virtues.'

Then Cesare Gonzaga remarked:'Well, I don't know what virtues appropriate for a ruler can spring from temperance, if temperance, as you say, removes all the emotions from one's mind. This might be fitting in a hermit or a monk; but I can hardly think that it is becoming for a prince, who is magnanimous, liberal and valiant in arms, whatever the provocation, never to display anger or hatred or indeed kindliness or scorn or lust or any emotion at all. For how could he otherwise exert any authority either over his people or his troops?'

Signor Ottaviano replied:'I did not say that temperance completely removes and uproots the emotions from a man's soul, nor would it be well for it to do so, since there are good elements even in the emotions. But what it does do is to make what is perverse and opposed to right conduct in the emotions responsive to reason. So it is not right, in order to remove conflicts, to extirpate the emotions altogether; for this would be like trying to suppress drunkenness by legislating against the use of wine, or forbidding anyone to run since when they do so men sometimes fall over. You are well aware that when someone is breaking in a horse he does not stop it from running or jumping but ensures that it does so at the right time and at the command of the rider. So when they are moderated by temperance the emotions are conducive to virtue, just as wrath strengthens fortitude, hatred against wicked men strengthens justice, and the other emotions strengthen other kinds of virtue. And if they were killed altogether, this would leave the reason weak and languid, so that it would be ineffectual, like the captain of a ship that is becalmed after the winds have dropped. So do not be so surprised, Cesare, if I said that temperance is the cause of many other virtues; for when a man's soul is attuned to this harmony, reason makes it readily receptive to true fortitude, which in turn makes it intrepid and unassailable, and immune to human suffering. And this is just as true of justice, the pure friend of modesty and goodness, and the queen of all the virtues, because justice teaches us to do what should be done and to eschew what is wrong. Thus justice is wholly perfect, since the other virtues perform their work through her, and she benefits both the just man and others as well. And without justice, as it is said, Jove himself could not govern his kingdom well. These virtues are also followed by magnanimity, which enhances them all, though it cannot exist alone since anyone lacking other virtues cannot be magnanimous. And then for their guide, the virtues have prudence, which consists in a certain quality of judgement in making the right decisions. The other links in this happy chain of virtues are liberality, munificence, the desire for honour, gentleness, charm, affability and many other qualities there is not the time to name. But flour courtier behaves as we have suggested he will discover these flourishing in the soul of his prince, and every day will see blossoming there more delightful flowers and fruits than there are in all the lovely gardens on earth. He himself will know great contentment, when he reminds himself that he gave his prince not what fools give, namely, gifts such as gold and silver, vases and garments (of which the prince has too many already and the giver only too few) but what is doubtless the greatest and rarest of all human virtues: the manner and method of good government. This alone would be enough to make men happy and restore to earth the golden age which is said to have existed once, when Saturn ruled.'

[ . . . ]

Then signor Gaspare said:'I remember that when these gentlemen were discussing the accomplishments of the courtier they wished him to be in love. However, when we sum up what has been said so far we could come to the conclusion that the courtier who must introduce the prince to virtue through his own merits and authority must of necessity be an elderly man, for only rarely does wisdom not wait upon age, and especially as regards what we learn from experience. So I do not see how if he is advanced in years it is fitting for the courtier to be in love, seeing that, as has already been said this evening, in old men love is futile and what women take for agreeable courtesies, pleasantries and elegance in the young are in the old inept and ridiculous follies which will cause some women to detest and everyone to deride whoever indulges in them. So if this Aristotle of yours, as an elderly courtier, were to be in love and to do the things that young lovers do(like some we have seen in our own times) I fear he would forget to instruct his prince and doubtless the children would make fun of him behind his back and the ladies would hardly derive any pleasure from him other than to mock him.'

Then signor Ottaviano answered:'As all the other qualities attributed to the courtier are suitable to him, even when he is old, I don't think it right to deprive him of the happiness of being in love.'

'On the contrary,' retorted signor Gaspare, 'to deprive him of it adds another perfection to him and enables him to live happily, free of all calamity and misery.'

Then Pietro Bembo added:'Do you not remember, signor Gaspare, that although he is untutored in love in the game he suggested the other evening signor Ottaviano evidently knew that there are some lovers who regard as pleasurable all the storms of indignation, the outbursts of temper, the wars and the torments that they experience with their ladies? And he asked to be taught the cause of this pleasure. Therefore if our courtier were to be inflamed with the kind of love that is agreeable and without bitterness, even if elderly he would not experience any misery or suffering. And then again as a wise man, which we suppose him to be, he would not deceive himself in thinking that everything suitable for a young man to do was likewise suitable in his case. If in love, he would doubtless love in a way that would not only bring him no blame but earn him great praise and complete happiness, free of all vexation, which rarely if ever happens with younger men. And so he would not neglect to instruct his prince nor would he do anything to cause children to make fun of him.'

Then the Duchess remarked:'I am glad, Pietro, that you have had to make little effort in our discussion this evening, because now we can have all the more confidence in giving you the task of speaking, and of teaching us about this kind of love which is so felicitous that it brings with it neither blame nor displeasure; for doubtless it would be one of the most useful and important of the endowments yet attributed to the courtier. So please, I beg you, tell us all you know about it.'

Pietro smiled and replied:'Madam, I wouldn't wish my having said that it is permissible for old men to love to cause these ladies to suppose that I am old myself. So please give this task to someone else.'

The Duchess replied:'You should not run away from being reputed old in wisdom, even if you are young in years. So please go on, and don't make any more excuses.'

Then Pietro Bembo answered:'truly, madam, if I do have to talk on this subject I shall have to go for advice to my Lavinello's friend, the hermit. '

At this, as if annoyed, signora Emilia exclaimed:

'Pietro, no one among us is more disobedient than you. So it would be only right if the Duchess were to punish you.'

Pietro, who was still smiling, answered:

'Don't be annoyed with me, madam, for pity's sake. For I shall tell you what you want.'

'Then please do so,' replied signora Emilia.

Thereupon, Pietro Bembo remained quiet for a little while. Then, having composed himself for a moment as if to speak of important things, he began as follows:

'Gentlemen, to show that old men can love not only blamelessly but sometimes more happily than the young, it will be necessary for me to enter upon a little discourse in order to make it clear what love is and what is the nature of the happiness that lovers experience. So I beg you to listen attentively, because I hope to make you realize that there is no man to whom it is unbecoming to be in love, even though he should be fifteen or twenty years older than signor Morello.'

After there was some laughter at this, Pietro Bembo continued:

'I say, therefore, that as defined by the philosophers of the ancient world Love is simply a certain longing to possess beauty; and since this longing can only be for things that are known already, knowledge must always of necessity precede desire, which by its nature wishes for what is good, but of itself is blind and so cannot perceive what is good. So Nature has ruled that every appetitive faculty, or desire, be accompanied by a cognitive faculty or power of understanding. Now in the human soul there are three faculties by which we understand or perceive things: namely, the senses, rational thought and intellect. Thus the senses desire things through sensual appetite or the kind of appetite which we share with the animals; reason desires things through rational choice, which is, strictly speaking, proper to man; and intellect, which links man to the angels, desires things through pure will. It follows that the sensual appetite desires only those things that are perceptible by the senses, whereas man's will finds its satisfaction in the contemplation of spiritual things that can be apprehended by intellect. And then man, who is rational by his very nature and is placed between the two extremes of brute matter and pure spirit, can choose to follow the senses or to aspire to the intellect, and so can direct his appetites or desires now in the one direction, now in the other. In either of these two ways, therefore, he can long for beauty, which is the quality possessed by all natural or artificial things that are composed in the good proportion and due measure that befit their nature.

'However, I shall speak of the kind of beauty I now have in mind, which is that seen in the human body and especially the face and which prompts the ardent desire we call love; and we shall argue that this beauty is an influx of the divine goodness which, like the light of the sun, is shed over all created things but especially displays itself in all its beauty when it discovers and informs a countenance which is well proportioned and composed of a certain joyous harmony of various colours enhanced by light and shadow and by symmetry and dear definition. This goodness adorns and illumines with wonderful splendour and grace the object in which it shines, like a sunbeam striking a lovely vase of polished gold set with precious gems. And thus it attracts to itself the gaze of others, and entering through their eyes it impresses itself upon the human soul, which it stirs and delights with its charm, inflaming it with passion and desire. Thus the mind is seized by desire for the beauty which it recognizes as good, and, if it allows itself to be guided by what its senses tell it, it falls into the gravest errors and judges that the body is the chief cause of the beauty which it enshrines, and so to enjoy that beauty it must necessarily achieve with it as intimate a union as possible. But this is untrue; and anyone who thinks to enjoy that beauty by possessing the body is deceiving himself and is moved not by true knowledge, arrived at by rational choice, but by a false opinion derived from the desire of the senses. So the pleasure that follows is also necessarily false and deceptive. Consequently, all those lovers who satisfy their impure desires with the women they love meet with one of two evils: either as soon as they achieve the end they desire they experience satiety and distaste and even begin to hate what they love, as if their desire repented of its error and recognized the way it had been deceived by the false judgement of the senses, which had made it believe that evil was good; or else they are still troubled by the same avidity and desire, since they have not in fact attained the end they were seeking. Admittedly, confused by their short-sighted view of things, they imagine that they are experiencing pleasure, just as sometimes a sick man dreams that he is drinking from a dear fountain. Nevertheless, they enjoy neither rest nor satisfaction, and these are precisely what they would enjoy as the natural consequences of desiring and then possessing what is good. On the contrary, deceived by the resemblance they see, they soon experience unbridled desire once more and in the same agitation as before they again find themselves with a raging and unquenchable thirst for what they hope to possess utterly. Lovers of this kind, therefore, are always most unhappy; for either they never attain their desires, and this causes them great misery, or if they do attain them they find themselves in terrible distress, and their wretchedness is even greater. For both at the beginning and during the course of this love of theirs they never know other than anguish, torment, sorrow, exertion and distress; and so lovers, it is supposed, must always be characterized by paleness and dejection, continuous sighings and weepings, mournfulness and lamentations, silences and the desire for death.

'We see, therefore, that the senses are the chief cause of this desolation of the spirit; and they are at their full strength in youth, when they are stimulated by the urges of the flesh which sap a man's powers of reason in exact proportion to their own vigour and so easily persuade the soul to yield to desire. For since it is sunk in an earthly prison and deprived of spiritual contemplation, the soul cannot of itself dearly perceive the truth when it is carrying out its duties of governing the body. So in order to understand things properly it must appeal to the senses for its first notions. In consequence it believes whatever they tell it and respects and trusts them, especially when they are so vigorous that they almost compel it; and because the senses are deceptive they fill the soul with errors and mistaken ideas. As a result, young men are invariably absorbed by this sensual kind of love and wholly rebellious against reason, and so they make themselves unworthy of enjoying the blessings and advantages that love gives to its true devotees; and the only pleasures they experience in love are the same as those enjoyed by unreasoning animals, though the distress they suffer is far more terrible than theirs. Therefore on this premise, which I insist is the absolute truth, I argue that lovers who are more mature in age experience the contrary; for in their case the soul is no longer so weighed down by the body and their natural ardour has begun to cool, and so if they are inflamed by beauty and their desire for it is guided by rational choice, they are not deceived and they possess completely the beauty they love. Consequently its possession brings them nothing but good, since beauty is goodness and so the true love of beauty is good and holy and always benefits those in whose souls the bridle of reason restrains the iniquity of the senses; and this is something the old can do far more easily than the young.

*

'So it is not unreasonable to argue also that the old can love blamelessly and more happily than the young, accepting that by old we do not mean those who are senile or whose bodily organs have grown so feeble that the soul cannot perform its operations through them, but men whose intellectual powers are still in their prime. I must also add this: namely, that in my opinion although sensual love is bad at every age, yet in the young it may be excused and perhaps in some sense even permitted. For although it brings them afflictions, dangers, exertions and all the unhappiness we have mentioned, yet there are many who perform worthy acts in order to win the favour of the women whom they love, and though these acts are not directed to a good end they are good in themselves. And so from all that bitterness they extract a little sweetness, and the adversities they endure finally teach them the error of their ways. So just as I think those young people who subdue their desires and love in a rational manner are truly heroic, I excuse those who allow themselves to be overcome by the sensual love to which human weakness inclines them, provided that they then display gentleness, courtesy, worthiness and all the other qualities these gentlemen mentioned, and that when they are no longer young they abandon it completely and leave sensual desire behind them, as the lowest rung of the ladder by which we can ascend to true love. But no blame is too severe for those who when they are old still allow the fires of passion to burn in their cold hearts and make strong reason obey their feeble senses; for they deserve the endless shame of being numbered like idiots among the animals which lack reason, because the thoughts and ways of sensual love are wholly unbecoming to men of mature years.'

Bembo then paused for a moment, as if to rest; and as everyone remained silent, signor Morello da Ortona said:

'But if there were to be found an old man more able-bodied, more vigorous and more handsome than many youths, why would you not wish that he should be allowed to love in their way?'

The Duchess laughed at this and remarked:

'If love is such an unhappy experience for the young, why, signor Morello, do you want old men as well to suffer the same unhappiness? But if you were old, as these gentlemen say, you would not plot such evil against old men.'

Signor Morello replied:'It seems to me that the one who is plotting evil against old men is Pietro Bembo, because he wishes them to love in a way that I, for one, cannot understand. And I also think that to possess the beauty he praises so much without the body is a fantasy.'

'Do you believe, signor Morello,' asked Count Lodo vico, 'that beauty is always as good as Pietro Bembo says?'

'I certainly do not,' answered signor Morello. 'On the contrary, I remember having seen many beautiful women who were evil, cruel and spiteful; and this seems to me to be nearly always the case, since beauty makes them proud, and pride makes them cruel.'

Count Lodovico replied with a smile:'Doubtless they seem cruel to you because they do not grant you what you want. But let Pietro Bembo teach you how old men ought to desire beauty, and what they should seek from women, and with what they ought to be satisfied; and provided you keep within these limits you will discover that they are neither proud nor cruel, and they will also grant you what you want.'

Signor Morello showed his irritation at this, and he retorted:

'I don't want to learn what doesn't concern me. Let someone teach you the way in which this beauty ought to be desired by young men who are not so ablebodied or vigorous as the old.'

Then Federico, in order to calm signor Morello and to change the subject, interrupted before Count Lodovico could reply and said:

'Perhaps signor Morello is not altogether wrong in saying that beauty is not always good, for often woman's beauty causes the world endless evil, enmity, war, death and destruction, as was shown very clearly, for example, by the downfall of Troy. And for the most part beautiful women are either proud and cruel or else, as has been said, unchaste; though this last signor Morello would not consider a fault. There are also many wicked men who are endowed with good looks, and it seems that Nature has made them so in order that they may be better able to deceive, and that their agreeable appearance is the bait concealing the hook.'

Then Pietro Bembo stated:'Do not believe that beauty is not always good.'

Here, in order to return to the original subject, Count Lodovico broke in and remarked:

'Since signor Morello is not interested in learning what concerns him so deeply, teach it to me, and show me how old men may win the happiness of love; for I shall not worry if I cause myself to be considered old, provided I profit by it.'

Pietro Bembo said with a smile:'First I wish to correct the error made by these gentlemen, and then I shall satisfy you as well.'

Then he continued as follows:

'Gentlemen, beauty is a sacred thing, and I should not wish any of us to act like profane and sacrilegious men in speaking ill of it and thereby incurring the wrath of God. So as a warning for signor Morello and Federico, lest they are punished in the way most suitable for those who despise beauty, and lose their sight like Stesichorus, I say that beauty springs from God and is like a circle, the centre of which is goodness. And so just as one cannot have a circle without a centre, so one cannot have beauty without goodness. In consequence, only rarely does an evil soul dwell in a beautiful body, and so outward beauty is a true sign of inner goodness. This loveliness, indeed, is impressed upon the body in varying degrees as a token by which the soul can be recognized for what it is, just as with trees the beauty of the blossom testifies to the goodness of the fruit. The same is true of the human body, as we know from the way physiognomists often establish a man's character and sometimes even his thoughts from his countenance. Moreover, even in animals the qualities of the soul as far as possible impress themselves upon the body and can be perceived from their physical appearance. Consider how clearly we can perceive anger, ferocity and pride in the face of the lion, the horse and the eagle; and a pure and simple innocence in lambs and doves; evil guile in foxes and wolves, and so with nearly all the animals.

'Therefore for the most part the ugly are also evil, and the beautiful good. And it can be said that beauty is the pleasant, gay, charming and desirable face of the good, and that ugliness is the dark, disagreeable, unpleasant and sorry face of evil. And no matter what things you study, you will always find that those which are good and useful are also graced with beauty. Consider the structure of this great fabric of the universe, which was created by God for the health and preservation of all His creatures. The bowl of heaven, adorned with so many celestial lamps, and the earth in the centre, surrounded by the elements and sustained by its own weight; the sun, illuminating all things as it revolves, in winter approaching the lowest sign, and then by degrees ascending to the other side; the moon, which derives its light from the sun, in accord with whether the sun is approaching or drawing away; and the five other stars which separately travel the same course: these all influence each other so profoundly through the coherence of the natural order that if they changed in the slightest they could no longer exist together and the universe would crumble. Moreover, they have such beauty and loveliness that the human mind cannot conceive anything more graceful. Consider next the structure of man, who may be called a little universe in himself. We see that every part of his body is in the natural order of things made by design and not by chance and that his form as a whole is so beautiful that it is difficult to decide whether it is utility or grace that is given more to the human face and body by its various parts, such as the eyes, nose, mouth, ears, aims and breast. The same can be said of all the animals. Consider the feathers of birds and the leaves and branches of trees, which are given by Nature to preserve their being, and yet which are also of the greatest loveliness. Now let us leave Nature and come to human art. What is so necessary for a ship as the prow, the sides, the mainyards, the mast, the sails, the helm, the oars, the anchor and the rigging? Yet all these things are so attractive that anyone looking at them must conclude they exist as much for pleasure as for use. Columns and architraves support lofty galleries and palaces, but they are no less pleasing to the eye than they are useful to the building. When men first began to build they included the middle ridge in their churches and houses not to embellish their buildings but to allow the water to flow off without trouble on either side; nevertheless, attractiveness of appearance soon became as important as usefulness, so that if a church were to be built in a land which never knew rain or hail, it would seem to lack both dignity and beauty if left without the ridge of a roof.

'Thus to call anything beautiful, even the world itself, constitutes the highest praise. It is praised when we say such things as: beautiful sky, beautiful earth, beautiful sea, beautiful rivers, beautiful countryside, beautiful woods, trees and gardens; or beautiful cities, churches, houses and armies. In short, this gracious and sacred beauty is the supreme adornment of everything; and it can be said that in some manner the good and the beautiful are identical, especially in the human body. And the proximate cause of physical beauty is, in my opinion, the beauty of the soul which since it shares in true supernatural beauty makes whatever it touches resplendent and lovely, especially if the body it inhabits is not of such base material that the soul cannot impress on it its own quality. Therefore beauty is the true trophy of the soul's victory, when with her heavenly power she rules over material nature and with her light dispels the darkness of the body. We must not say, therefore, that beauty makes women proud or cruel, though this may seem to be the case to signor Morello; neither should we impute to beautiful women those enmities, deaths and destructions which are caused by the unrestrained desires of men. To be sure, I shall not deny that we can also find in the world beautiful women who are unchaste. But it is all the same not their beauty which makes them so; on the contrary, because of the bond between beauty and goodness, their beauty turns them away from impurity and leads them to the path of virtuous conduct. But sometimes evil training, the continual urgings of their lovers, gifts, poverty, hope, deceits, fear and a thousand other causes can defeat the steadfastness even of good and beautiful women; and for this and other reasons handsome men can also become wicked.'

Then Cesare remarked:'If what signor Gaspare alleged yesterday is true, then there is no doubt that women who are beautiful are more chaste than those who are ugly. '

'And what did I allege?' asked signor Gaspare.

'If I remember correctly,' replied Cesare, 'you said that women who are wooed always refuse to satisfy their suitor, and that those who are not, do the wooing themselves. And it is certain that the beautiful are always more wooed and pursued in love than the ugly; therefore the beautiful always refuse, and so they are more chaste than those ugly women who, as they have no suitors, do the wooing themselves.'

Bembo smiled and said:'there can be no answer to this argument.'

Then he added:'It also often happens that, like the other senses, our sight can be deceived and can judge to be beautiful a face that is not so at all. For example some women occasionally display in their eyes and looks a certain enticing and suggestive immodesty which is called beauty by many who find these traits pleasing because they promise them the chance of gaining what they desire. But in truth this is simply meretricious impudence, and unworthy of so honoured and sacred a name.'

Pietro Bembo then fell silent, but he was urged to say more about this kind of love and about the true way in which beauty should be enjoyed; and at length he said:

'I think I have shown clearly enough that old men can be happier in love than the young; and this was my premise. So it is not for me to add any more.'

Count Lodovico replied:'You have demonstrated the unhappiness of the young better than the happiness of the old, whom you have not yet taught what path to follow in love but merely instructed to let themselves be guided by reason. And many people consider that it is impossible to reconcile love with reason.'

Bembo was still determined to say no more, but the Duchess begged that he should do so, and therefore he continued:

'It would be too unfortunate for humanity if our soul, in which such ardent desire can so easily arise, were forced to find nourishment only in what it has in common with the animals and could not direct its desire to its nobler element. So, as this is your wish, I will not refuse to discuss this noble theme. And since I know that I am unworthy to speak of Love's sacred mysteries, I pray him so to inspire my thoughts and words that I can teach this excellent courtier of ours how to love in a manner beyond the capacity of the vulgar crowd. And because I have since boyhood dedicated my life to him, may my words now conform to this intention and redound to his credit. I maintain, then, that since in youth human nature is so inclined to the senses, while the courtier is young he may be allowed to love in a sensual manner; but if in more mature years he should be inflamed with this amorous desire, he must proceed with circumspection and take care not to deceive himself or let himself experience the distress which in young men deserves compassion rather than blame but in old men blame rather than compassion.

'Therefore when he sets eyes on some beautiful and attractive woman, with charming ways and gentle manner, and being skilled in love recognizes that his spirit responds to hers, as soon as he notices that his eyes fasten on her image and carry it to his heart and his soul begins to take pleasure in contemplating her and feels an influx that gradually arouses and warms it, and those vivacious spirits shining from her eyes constantly add fresh fuel to the fire, then he should at the very beginning procure a swift remedy and alert his reason in order to defend with its help the fortress of his heart, and so close the passes to the senses and to desire that they cannot enter either by force or deception. If the flame is extinguished, so is the danger. But if it perseveres or grows, then in the knowledge that he has been captured the courtier should determine to eschew all the ugliness of vulgar passion and guided by reason set forth on the path of divine love. Then first he must reflect that the body in which beauty shines is not the source from which it springs, and on the contrary that beauty, being incorporeal and, as we have said, a ray of the supernatural, loses much of its nobility when fused with base and corruptible matter: for the more perfect it is, the less matter it contains, and it is most perfect when completely separated from matter. He must also reflect that just as a man cannot hear with his palate or smell with his ears, beauty can in no way be enjoyed nor can the desire it arouses in our souls be satisfied through the sense of touch but solely through what has beauty for its true object, namely, the faculty of sight. So he should ignore the blind judgement of these senses and enjoy with his eyes the radiance, the grace, the loving ardour, the smiles, the mannerisms and all the other agreeable adornments of the woman he loves. Similarly, let him use his hearing to enjoy the sweetness of her voice, the modulation of her words and, if she is a musician, the music she plays. In this way, through the channels of these two faculties, which have little to do with corporeal things and are servants of reason, he will nourish his soul on the most delightful food and will not allow desire for the body to arouse in him any appetite that is at all impure. Next, with the greatest reverence the lover should honour, please and obey his lady, cherish her even more than himself, put her convenience and pleasure before his own, and love the beauty of her soul no less than that of her body. He should, therefore, be at pains to keep her from going astray and by his wise precepts and admonishments always seek to make her modest, temperate and truly chaste; and he must ensure that her thoughts are always pure and unsullied by any trace of evil. And thus, by sowing virtue in the garden of her lovely soul, he will gather the fruits of faultless behaviour and experience exquisite pleasure from their taste. And this will be the true engendering and expression of beauty in beauty, which some say is the purpose of love. In this manner, our courtier will be most pleasing to his lady, and she will always be submissive, charming and affable and as anxious to please him as she is to be loved by him; and the desires of both will be very pure and harmonious, and consequently they will be perfectly happy.'

Then signor Morello remarked:'In reality, this engendering of beauty in beauty must mean the begetting of a beautiful child in a beautiful woman; and it would seem to me a far clearer sign that she loved her lover if she pleased him in this than if she treated him merely with the affability you mention.'

Bembo laughed and replied:'You mustn't go beyond the bounds, signor Morello; nor indeed does a woman grant just a token of affection when she gives her lover her beauty, which is precious to her, and along the paths into her soul, namely, sight and hearing, sends the glances of her eyes, the image of her face, her voice and her words, which penetrate her lover's heart and convey the proof of her love.'

Signor Morello then said:'Glances and words can be false witnesses, and often are. So anyone who has no better pledge of love is in my opinion most uncertain; and truly I was expecting you to make this lady of yours a little more courteous and generous towards the courtier than the Magnifico made his. However, I think both of you are acting in the same way as those judges who pronounce sentence against their own people in order to seem wise.'

'I am perfectly willing,' Bembo continued, 'for this lady to be far more courteous to my elderly courtier than signor Magnifico's lady is to the young courtier. And this is with good reason, for my courtier will wish only for seemly things, all of which she may therefore concede to him quite innocently. But the Magnifico's lady, who is not so certain of the young courtier's modesty, should concede him only what is seemly and deny him what is not. Therefore my courtier, who obtains all he asks for, is happier than the other, who is granted some of his requests but refused others. And to help you understand even better that rational love is happier than sensual love, I say that sometimes the same things should be denied in sensual love and granted in rational love, because in the former context they are unseemly, and in the latter, seemly. Thus to please her gracious lover, besides granting him pleasant smiles, intimate and secret conversations, and the liberty to joke and jest and touch hands, the lady may very reasonably and innocently go so far as to grant a kiss, which in sensual love, according to the Magnifico's rules, is not permitted. For as a kiss is a union of body and soul, there is a risk that the sensual lover may incline more to the body than the soul; but the rational lover knows that although the mouth is part of the body nevertheless it provides a channel for words, which are the interpreters of the soul, and for the human breath or spirit. Consequently, the rational lover delights when he joins his mouth to that of the lady he loves in a kiss, not in order to arouse in himself any unseemly desire but because he feels that this bond opens the way for their souls which, attracted by their mutual desire, each pour themselves into the other's body in turn and so mingle that each of them possesses two souls, and it is as if a single spirit composed of the two governs their two bodies. So the kiss may be called a spiritual rather than physical union because it exerts such power over the soul that it draws it to itself and separates it from the body. For this reason, all chaste lovers desire a kiss as a union of souls; and thus when inspired to love Plato said that in kissing the soul comes to the lips in order to leave the body. And because the separation of the soul from things that are perceptible to the senses and its complete union with spiritual things can be signified by the kiss, in his inspired book of the Song of Songs Solomon says: "let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth", in order to express the wish that his soul be transported by divine love to the contemplation of celestial beauty and by its intimate union with this beauty might forsake the body.'

All were listening very attentively to what Bembo was saying; and then, after a moment's pause, he added:

'Since you have made me begin to teach the courtier who is no longer young about love that is truly happy, I want to lead him a little further still. For to stop at this point is very dangerous, because, as we have said several times already, the soul is strongly inclined towards the senses; and although reason may choose well in its operation and recognize that beauty does not arise from the body, and therefore act as a check to impure desires, yet the constant contemplation of physical beauty often perverts true judgement. And even if no other evil resulted from this, absence from the person one loves causes much suffering. This is because when beauty is physically present, its influx into the lover's soul brings him intense pleasure, and by warming his heart it arouses and melts certain hidden and congealed powers which the warmth of love nourishes and causes to flow and well up round his heart and send through his eyes those spirits or most subtle vapours, composed of the purest and brightest part of the blood, to receive the image of her beauty and embellish it with a thousand varied adornments. In consequence, the soul is filled with wonder and delight; it is frightened and yet it rejoices; as if dazed, it experiences along with its pleasure the fear and reverence invariably inspired by sacred things, and it believes it has entered into its Paradise.

'Therefore the lover who is intent only on physical beauty loses all this good and happiness as soon as the woman he loves by her absence leaves his eyes deprived of their splendour and, consequently, his soul widowed of its good. For, since her beauty is far away, there is no influx of affection to warm his heart as it did when she was there, and so the openings of his body become arid and dry; yet the memory of her beauty still stirs the powers of his soul a little, so that they seek to pour those spirits forth. Although their paths are blocked and there is no exit for them, they still strive to depart, and thus tormented and enclosed they begin to prick the soul and cause it to suffer bitterly, as children do when the teeth begin to grow through their tender gums. This causes the tears, the sighs, the anguish and the torments of lovers, because the soul is in constant pain and turmoil and almost raging in fury until its cherished beauty appears once more; and then suddenly it is calmed and breathes again, and wholly absorbed it draws strength from the delicious food before it and wishes never to part from such a ravishing vision. Therefore, to escape the torment caused by absence and to enjoy beauty without suffering, with the help of reason the courtier should turn his desire completely away from the body to beauty alone. He should contemplate beauty as far as he is able in its own simplicity and purity, create it in his imagination as an abstraction distinct from any material form, and thus make it lovely and dear to his soul, and enjoy it there always, day and night and in every time and place, without fear of ever losing it; and he will always remember that the body is something altogether distinct from beauty, whose perfection it diminishes rather than enhances. In this way the courtier of ours who is no longer young will put himself out of reach of the anguish and distress invariably experienced by the young in the form of jealousy, suspicion, disdain, anger, despair and a certain tempestuous fury that occasionally leads them so much astray that some not only beat the women they love but take their own lives. He will do no injury to the husband, father, brothers or family of the lady he loves; he will cause her no shame; he will not be forced sometimes to drag his eyes away and curb his tongue for fear of revealing his desires to others; or to endure suffering when they part or during her absence. For he will always carry the treasure that is so precious to him safe in his heart; and by the power of his imagination he will also make her beauty far more lovely than it is in reality.

'However, among all these blessings the lover will find one that is far greater still, if he will determine to make use of this love as a step by which to climb to another that is far more sublime; and this will be possible if he continually reflects how narrowly he is confined by always limiting himself to the contemplation of a single body. And so in order to escape from this coninement, he will gradually add so many adornments to his idea of beauty that, by uniting all possible forms of beauty in his mind, he will form a universal concept and so reduce all the many varieties to the unity of that single beauty which sheds itself over human nature as a whole. And thus he will come to contemplate not the particular beauty of a single woman but the universal beauty which adorns all human bodies: and then, dazzled by this greater light, he will not concern himself with the lesser; burning with a more perfect flame, he will feel little esteem for what he formerly prized so greatly. Now this stage of love, although so noble that few attain it, still cannot be called perfect. For the human imagination is a corporeal faculty and acquires knowledge only through the data supplied to it by the senses, and so it is not wholly purged of the darkness of material things. Thus although it may consider this universal beauty in the abstract and simply in itself, yet it perceives it not at all clearly nor within a certain ambiguity because of the affinities that the images it forms have with the body itself; and so those who reach this stage of love are like fledglings which on their feeble wings can lift themselves a little in flight but dare not stray far from the nest or trust themselves to the winds and the open sky.

'Therefore when our courtier has arrived at this stage, even though he can be called most happy in comparison with those lovers who are still sunk in the miseries of sensual love, I wish him not to be satisfied but to move boldly onwards along the sublime path of love and follow his guide towards the goal of true happiness. So instead of directing his thoughts to the outward world, as those must do who wish to consider bodily beauty, let him turn within himself to contemplate what he sees with the eyes of the mind, which begin to be penetrating and clear-sighted once those of the body have lost the flower of their delight; and in this manner, having shed all evil, purged by the study of true philosophy, directed towards the life of the spirit, and practised in the things of the intellect, the soul turns to contemplate its own substance, and as if awakened from deepest sleep it opens the eyes which all men possess but few use and perceives in itself a ray of that light which is the true image of the angelic beauty that has been transmitted to it, and of which in turn it transmits a faint impression to the body. Thus, when it has become blind to earthly things, the soul opens its eyes wide to those of heaven; and sometimes when the faculties of the body are totally absorbed by assiduous contemplation, or bound to sleep, no longer hindered by their influence the soul tastes a certain hidden savour of the true angelic beauty, and ravished by the loveliness of that light it begins to bum and to pursue the beauty it sees so avidly that it seems almost drunk and beside itself in its desire to unite with it. For the soul then believes that it has discovered the traces of God, in the contemplation of which it seeks its final repose and bliss. And so, consumed in this most joyous flame, it ascends to its noblest part, which is the intellect; and there, no more overshadowed by the dark night of earthly things, it glimpses the divine beauty itself. Even so, it does not yet enjoy this perfectly, since it contemplates it only in its own particular intellect, which cannot comprehend universal beauty in all its immensity. And so, not even satisfied with bestowing this blessing, love gives the soul greater happiness still. For just as from the particular beauty of a single body it guides the soul to the universal beauty of all bodies, so, in the last stage of perfection, it guides the soul from the particular intellect to the universal intellect. And from there, aflame with the sacred fire of true divine love, the soul flies to unite itself with the angelic nature, and it not only abandons the senses but no longer has need of reason itself. For, transformed into an angel, it understands all intelligible things and without any veil or cloud it gazes on the wide sea of pure divine beauty, which it receives into itself to enjoy the supreme happiness the senses cannot comprehend.

'The kinds of beauty which every day we see in corruptible bodies with these clouded eyes of ours (and which even so are only dreams and faint shadows) appear to be so lovely and graceful that they often kindle in us a most ardent fire and cause such delight that we count no happiness the equal of what we sometimes feel because of a single glance we may receive from the eyes of the woman we love, so what happy wonder, what blessed awe must we think is that which possesses the soul when it attains the vision of divine beauty! What sweet flame, what ravishing fire must we believe that to be which springs from the source of supreme and true beauty, the fountain of all other beauty which never increases or diminishes! Always beautiful; most simple of itself and equally in all its parts; like only to itself and sharing in nothing other than itself; it is yet so beautiful that all other beautiful things derive their beauty from it. And this is the beauty indistinguishable from the highest good, which by its light calls and draws all things to it and which not only gives intellect to intellectual beings, reason to rational beings and the senses and the desire for life to sensual beings, but also transmits to the very plants and rocks, as an imprint of itself, motion and the instinct of their own particular nature. This love, therefore, is as greater and happier than the others as the cause that produces it is greater. And thus, just as material fire refines gold, so this most sacred fire consumes and destroys everything that is mortal in our souls and quickens and beautifies the celestial part which previously, because of the senses, was dead and buried. This is the pyre on which the poets write that Hercules was burned on the summit of Mount Oeta and through whose fire he became divine and immortal after death; this is the burning bush of Moses, the parted tongues of fire, the fiery chariot of Elias, which doubles the grace and happiness of those souls worthy to see it, when it leaves the earth below and flies towards heaven. So let us direct all the thoughts and powers of our soul towards this most sacred light which shows us the path that leads to heaven; and following after it and divesting ourselves of the human passions in which we were clothed when we fell, let us ascend by the ladder whose lowest rung bears the image of sensual beauty to the sublime mansion where dwells the celestial, adorable and true beauty which lies hidden in the secret recesses of the Almighty where profane eyes may not see it. And here we shall find a most happy end to our desires, true rest from our labours, a sure remedy for our miseries, a wholesome medicine for our infirmities, a most safe harbour from the raging storms of the tempestuous sea of this life.

'O most sacred Love, what tongue is there that can praise you worthily? Full of beauty, goodness and wisdom, you flow from the union of beauty, goodness and divine wisdom, there you dwell, and through it you return to it perpetually. Graciously binding the universe together, midway between celestial and earthly things, by your benign disposition you direct the heavenly powers in their government of the lower, and turning the minds of men to their source, you unite them with it. You unite the elements in harmony, inspire nature to produce, and move all that is born to the perpetuation of life. You join together the things that are separate, give perfection to the imperfect, likeness to the unlike, friendship to the hostile, fruit to the earth, tranquillity to the sea, its life-giving light to the sky. You are the father of true pleasures, of all blessings, of peace, of gentleness and of good will; the enemy of rough savagery and vileness; the beginning and the end of every good. And since you delight to inhabit the flower of beautiful bodies and beautiful souls, and there sometimes consent to reveal a little of yourself to those worthy to see you, I believe that you now dwell here among us. Consent then, O Lord, to hear our prayers, pour yourself into our hearts, and with the radiance of your most sacred fire illumine our darkness and like a trusted guide show us the right path through this blind maze. Correct the falsity of our senses, and after our long delirium give us the true substance of goodness. Quicken our intellects with the incense of spirituality and make us so attuned to the celestial harmony that there is no longer room within us for any discord of passion. Inebriate our souls at the inexhaustible fountain of contentment that always delights and never satiates and that gives a taste of true blessedness to whoever drinks from its living and limpid waters. With the rays of your light cleanse our eyes of their misty ignorance, so that they may no longer prize mortal beauty but know that the things which they first thought to see are not, and that those they did not see truly are. Accept the sacrifice of our souls; and burn them in the living flame that consumes all earthly dross, so that wholly freed from the body they may unite with divine beauty in a sweet and perpetual bond and that we, liberated from our own selves, like true lovers can be transformed into the object of our love and soar above the earth to join the feast of the angels, where, with ambrosia and immortal nectar for our food, we may at last die a most happy death in life, as did those ancient fathers whose souls, by the searing power of contemplation, you ravished from their bodies to unite with God.'

Having spoken in that way with such vehemence that he seemed transported out of himself, Bembo then remained silent and still, looking towards heaven, as if dazed. And then signora Emilia, who together with all the others had listened to all he had to say with the utmost attention, plucked the hem of his robe and said:

'Take care, Pietro, that with these thoughts of yours you too do not cause your soul to leave your body.'

'Madam,' answered Pietro, 'that would not be the first miracle that love has worked in me.'

Then the Duchess and all the others began once again to insist that Bembo should continue his discourse; and everyone almost seemed to feel in his mind a spark of the divine love that had inspired Bembo himself. They were all anxious to hear more, but he then added:

'Gentlemen, I have said all that was dictated to me on the spur of the moment by the holy frenzy of love. And now that its inspiration seems to have failed, I would not know what to say; and I think that love does not wish its secrets to be revealed any further, or that the courtier should pass beyond the stage I have been graciously permitted to show him; and so perhaps I may speak no further about this subject.'

'Truly,' said the Duchess, 'if the courtier who is no longer young is such that he is able to follow the path you have shown him he should rightly be content with such great happiness and feel no envy of the young.'

Then Cesare Gonzaga remarked:'The road that leads to happiness seems to me so steep that I hardly think anyone can travel it.'

And then signor Gaspare added:'I think to travel this road would be difficult for men, but impossible for women.'

Signora Emilia laughed and said:

'Signor Gaspare, if you return to giving us so many insults, I promise you will not be forgiven again.'

Signor Gaspare replied:'It is no insult to you to say that the souls of women are not as purged of the passions as those of men or as versed in contemplation as Pietro has said those which are to taste divine love must be. Thus do we not read that any woman has ever received this grace, but we do read of many men who have, such as Plato, Socrates, Plotinus and many others; and similarly many of our holy Fathers, such as St Francis, upon whom an ardent messenger of love impressed the most holy seal of the five wounds. And only the power of love could transport the Apostle St Paul to the vision of those secrets of which no man is allowed to speak, or show St Stephen the heavens opening.'

Then the Magnifico Giuliano replied:

'But women would not be surpassed by men in the slightest as far as this is concerned: for Socrates himself confessed that all the mysteries of love that he knew had been revealed to him by a woman, the famous Diotima, and the angel who pierced St Francis with the fire of love has also made several women of our own time worthy of the same seal. You should also remember that many sins were forgiven St Mary Magdalene because she loved much and that she, perhaps in no less a state of grace than St Paul, was many times rapt to the third heaven by angelic love, and remember many others who, as I told at greater length yesterday, for the love of Christ's name have cared nothing for their own life, nor have they feared tortures or any manner of death, however horrible and cruel. And these were not old, as pietro wishes his courtier to be, but tender and delicate girls, of the age at which he says sensual love should be allowed to men.'

＊

Signor Gaspare was preparing to reply; but then the Duchess said:

'Let Pietro Bembo be the judge of this, and let us abide by his decision as to whether or not women are as capable of divine love as men. But, as the argument between you could last too long, it would be as well to postpone it until tomorrow.'

'Rather, fill this evening,' said Cesare Gonzaga.

'Why this evening?' asked the Duchess.

Cesare replied:'Because it is already day'; and he showed her the light that was beginning to come in through the clefts of the windows. Then they all rose to their feet, greatly astonished, because it did not seem that the discussion had lasted longer than usual, but as they had started far later and taken greater pleasure in it, those gentlemen had been so absorbed that they had not noticed the way time was passing; nor did anyone feel at all fired: and this often happens when the accustomed time of sleep is spent in wakefulness. So when the windows on the side of the palace that faces the lofty peak of Mount Catria had been opened, they saw that dawn had already come to the east, with the beauty and colour of a rose, and all the stars had been scattered, save only the lovely mistress of heaven, Venus, who guards the confines of night and day. From there, there seemed to come a delicate breeze, filling the air with biting cold, and among the murmuring woods on nearby hills wakening the birds into joyous song. Then all, having taken their respectful leave of the Duchess, went to their rooms, without torches, for the light of day was sufficient; and, as they were about to leave the room, the Prefect turned to the Duchess and said:

'Madam, to settle the argument between signor Gaspare and the Magnifico, we shall come with our judge this evening earlier than we did yesterday.'

Signora Emilia replied:'On condition that if signor Gaspare should want to criticize women and slander them in his usual manner he shall give his bond to stand trial, for I arraign him as a fugitive from justice.'

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

一个英国瘾君子的自白

（英汉双语）

［英］托马斯·德·昆西　著

于中华　译

中 国 出 版 集 团 公 司

中国对外翻译出版有限公司

图书在版编目（CIP）数据

一个英国瘾君子的自白：英汉双语／（英）昆西著；于中华译．—北京：中国对外翻译出版有限公司，2011.12

（企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想）

ISBN 978-7-5001-3323-0

I．①一…　II．①昆… ②于…　Ⅲ．①英语—汉语—对照读物 ②纪实文学—英国—近代　Ⅳ．①H319.4:I

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2011）第247706号

www.penguin.com

Confessions of an English Opium Eater

First published in London Magazine 1821

This edition first published in Penguin Books 2009

All rights reserved

Set by Rowland Phototypesetting Ltd, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk

出版发行／中国对外翻译出版有限公司

地　　址／北京市西城区车公庄大街甲4号物华大厦6层

电　　话／（010）68359376　68359303　68359719

邮　　编／100044　　传　　真／（010）68357870

电子邮箱／book@ctpc.com.cn

网　　址／http://www.ctpc.com.cn

出版策划／张高里

责任编辑／梁　斐

封面设计／奇文堂·潘峰

排　　版／竹叶图文

印　　刷／保定市中画美凯印刷有限公司

规　　格／760×940毫米　1/32

印　　张／7.5

版　　次／2012年3月第一版

印　　次／2012年3月第一次

ISBN 978-7-5001-3323-0　定价：16.00元

“企鹅”及相关标识是企鹅图书有限公司已经注册或尚未注册的商标。

未经允许，不得擅用。

中国对外翻译出版有限公司与企鹅图书有限公司联合出版

观　念

——《伟大的思想》代序

梁文道

每隔一段时间，媒体就喜欢评选一次“影响世界的X个人”或者“改变历史的X项发明”。然而，在我看来，几乎所有人类史上最重大的变革，首先都是一种观念的变革。

我们今天之所以会关注气候的暖化与生物多样性的保存，是因为我们看待地球的方式变了，我们比以前更加意识到人在自然中的位置，也更加了解自然其实是一个动态的系统。放弃了人类可以主宰地球的世界观，这就意味着我们接受了一个观念的变化。同样地，我们不再相信男人一出生就该主宰女人，甚至也不再认为男女之别是不可动摇的本质区分；这也是观念的变化。如果说环保运动和女权运动有任何影响的话，那些影响一定就是从大脑开始的。也不要只看好事，20世纪最惨绝人寰的浩劫最初也只不过是一些小小的观念，危险的观念。比如说一位德国人，他相信人类的进化必以“次等种族”的灭绝为代价……

这套丛书不叫“伟大的巨著”，是因为它们体积都不大，而且还有不少是抽取自某些名著的章节。可它们却全是伟大的观念，例如达尔文论天择，潘恩论常识，它们共同构成了人类的观念地图。从头看它们一遍，就是检视文明所走过的道路，从深处理解我们今天变成这个样子的原因。

也许你会发现其中有些陌生的名字，或者看起来没有那么“伟大”的篇章（譬如普鲁斯特追忆他的阅读时光），但你千万不要小看它们。因为真正重要、真正能够产生启蒙效果的观念往往具有跨界移动的能力，它会跨越时空，离开它原属的领域，在另一个世界产生意外的效果。就像马可·波罗在监狱里述说的异国图景，当时有谁料得到那些荒诞的故事会诱发出哥伦布的旅程呢？我也无法猜测，这套小书的读者里头会不会有下一个哥伦布，他将带着令人惊奇的观念航向自己的大海。

《伟大的思想》中文版序

企鹅《伟大的思想》丛书2004年开始出版。在英国，已付印80种，尚有20种计划出版。美国出版的丛书规模略小，德国的同类丛书规模更小一些。丛书销量已远远超过200万册，在全球很多人中间，尤其是学生当中，普及了哲学和政治学。中文版《伟大的思想》丛书的推出，迈出了新的一步，令人欢欣鼓舞。

推出这套丛书的目的是让读者再次与一些伟大的非小说类经典著作面对面地交流。太长时间以来，确定版本依据这样一个假设——读者在教室里学习这些著作，因此需要导读、详尽的注释、参考书目等。此类版本无疑非常有用，但我想，如果能够重建托马斯·潘恩《常识》或约翰·罗斯金《艺术与人生》初版时的环境，重新营造更具亲和力的氛围，那也是一件有意思的事。当时，读者除了原作者及其自身的理性思考外没有其他参照。

这样做有一定的缺点：每个作者的话难免有难解或不可解之处，一些重要的背景知识会缺失。例如，读者对亨利·梭罗创作时的情况毫无头绪，也不了解该书的接受情况及影响。不过，这样做的优点也很明显。最突出的优点是，作者的初衷又一次变得重要起来——托马斯·潘恩的愤怒、查尔斯·达尔文的灵光、塞内加的隐逸。这些作家在那么多国家影响了那么多人的生活，其影响不可估量，有的长这几个世纪，读他们书的乐趣罕有匹敌。没有亚当·斯密或阿图尔·叔本华，难以想象我们今天的世界。这些小书的创作年代已很久远，但其中的话已彻底改变了我们的政治学、经济学、智力生活、社会规划和宗教信仰。

《伟大的思想》丛书一直求新求变。地区不同，收录的作家也不同。在中国或美国，一些作家更受欢迎。英国《伟大的思想》收录的一些作家在其他地方则默默无闻。称其为“伟大的思想”，我们亦慎之又慎。思想之伟大，在于其影响之深远，而不意味着这些思想是“好”的，实际上一些书可列入“坏”思想之列。丛书中很多作家受到同一丛书其他作家的很大影响，例如，马塞尔·普鲁斯特承认受约翰·罗斯金影响很大，米歇尔·德·蒙田也承认深受塞内加影响，但其他作家彼此憎恨，如果发现他们被收入同一丛书，一定会气愤难平。不过，读者可自行决定这些思想是否合理。我们衷心希望，您能在阅读这些杰作中得到乐趣。

《伟大的思想》出版者

西蒙·温德尔

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

Penguin's Great Ideas series began publication in 2004. In the UK we now have 80 copies in print with plans to publish a further 20. A somewhat smaller list is published in the USA and a related, even smaller series in Germany. The books have sold now well over two million copies and have popularized philosophy and politics for many people around the world — particularly students. The launch of a Chinese Great Ideas series is an extremely exciting new development.

The intention behind the series was to allow readers to be once more face to face with some of the great nonfiction classics. For too long the editions of these books were created on the assumption that you were studying them in the classroom and that the student needed an introduction, extensive notes, a bibliography and so on. While this sort of edition is of course extremely useful. I thought it would be interesting to recreate a more intimate feeling — to recreate the atmosphere in which, for example, Thomas Paine's Common Sense or John Ruskin's On Art and Life was first published — where the reader has no other guide than the original author and his or her own common sense.

This method has its severe disadvantages — there will inevitably be statements made by each author which are either hard or impossible to understand, some important context might be missing. For example the reader has no due as to the conditions under which Henry Thoreau was writing his book and the reader cannot be aware of the book's reception or influence. The advantages however are very clear — most importantly the original intentions of the author become once more important. The sense of anger in Thomas Paine, of intellectual excitement in Charles Darwin, of resignation in Seneca — few things can be more thrilling than to read writers who have had such immeasurable influence on so many lives, sometimes for centuries, in many different countries. Our world would not make sense without Adam Smith or Arthur Schopenhauer — our politics, economics, intellectual lives, social planning, religious beliefs have all been fundamentally changed by the words in these little books, first written down long ago.

The Great Ideas series continues to change and evolve. In different parts of the world different writers would be included. In China or in the United States there are some writers who are liked much more than others. In the UK there are writers in the Great Ideas series who are ignored elsewhere. We have also been very careful to call the series Great Ideas — these ideas are great because they have been so enormously influential, but this does not mean that they are Good Ideas — indeed some of the books would probably qualify as Bad Ideas. Many of the writers in the series have been massively influenced by others in the series — for example Marcel Proust owned so much to John Ruskin, Michel de Montaigne to Seneca. But others hated each other and would be distressed to find themselves together in the same series! But readers can decide the validity of these ideas for themselves. We very much hope that you enjoy these remarkable books.

Simon Winder

Publisher

Great Ideas

目录

观　念——《伟大的思想》代序

《伟大的思想》中文版序

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

致读者

开场白

鸦片之乐

鸦片之苦——序言

鸦片之苦

Confessions of an English Opium Eater

Preliminary Confessions

The Pleasures of Opium

Introduction to the Pains of Opium

The Pains of Opium

返回总目录

致 读 者

亲爱的读者，在这里，我要把我人生中一段不寻常的经历讲述给你们。就我个人感受而言，我相信这份经历不仅是一份有趣的记录，在很大程度上也会起到帮助和引导作用。正因为期冀于此，我才着手整理笔下文字。我还要为这份自白打破了通常遏制我们暴露自己缺点和错误的那份精致而高贵的含蓄而郑重道歉。对于英国人来说，没有什么比遇见一个强迫别人注意他的道德。“溃疡”和“疮疤”的人更为令人反感的了。他撕下的那张“体面的遮羞布”，曾经或是时间，或是对人性弱点的放纵，蒙在道德顽疾上的。因此，在我们当中绝大部分忏悔（这里仅限于那些自发而不涉及法律的自白）是来自于娼妓、投机商和骗子的。想要了解这些认同体面而自尊的人是如何看似无端地、自取其辱地进行自白的，就要求助于法国文学和一部分被欺骗性和有缺陷的情感所熏染的德国文学了。我十分强烈地感受到了这一切，也十分不安地猜测自己的写作意向会招致谴责。关于这份自白或者叙述内容的某一部分是否适宜在我死前（在我死后，出于诸多原因，整部作品都将会被发表）公之于众，我犹豫了好几个月。到底是发表还是放弃，我带着不安反复思考很久之后，决定迈出这一步。

人们出于本能，会在公众面前隐藏自己的罪恶感和因此而生的内心煎熬，他们更喜欢隐退独居。即使死后选择坟墓时，也要与教堂墓地里睡着的大多数人隔绝开来，拒绝承认自己是人类大家族的一名成员，似乎期冀着（借用华兹华斯动人的语言）

谦卓地表达

忏悔的孤独。

总的来说，这样做符合我们大多数人的利益要求，似乎事情理应如此。并且就我个人而言，我也不想冒犯这种有益的感觉，更不想在语言或行动上削弱它。但是，一方面，我的自责不意味着是在忏悔所犯下的罪行，另一方面，即使我的文字有冒犯之嫌，这份以高昂代价买来的经历所形成的文字记录，给人们带来的益处，也可以成倍地弥补人们内心所需要的那种有益的感觉，也因此可以为我侵犯“大众规则”的行为做一份辩护。道德缺陷和内心痛苦不一定就意味着罪行的存在，一个人是选择走近还是避开这对黑暗联盟的阴影，取决于这个“违戒者”当时可能的动机和对该行为的预期以及对违戒的隐瞒程度：另外也和诱惑力从一开始强大与否，以及后来在行为和意志方面对其抵制的决心和力量有密切关系。对我而言，在不违背事实和谦逊原则的前提下，我可以宣称，我的一生，是哲学家的一生。我出身于书香门第，从中学时代开始，我的追求和快乐所在便都位于智力的最高层面了。如果说吸食鸦片能给你带来一种感官上的快乐是事实，如果一定要我承认我曾极度沉迷于此并纵情享受其快乐（这里暂不与某些未曾记录[1]人作比较）的话，那么同样真实的是：我也曾经以宗教的热忱试图从这令人神魂颠倒的奴役中挣扎出来，并且最终成功地实现了这个目标，几乎挣脱出最后一节锁链。可以说迄今为止还没其他人能有如此强大的意志力。自我征服给我带来的成就感可以和任何一种自我放纵和愉悦的快感相媲美。就我本人的情况来说，说是“自我征服”是无可非议的。“纵欲”是否会招来道德上的质疑，取决于吸食鸦片仅仅是为了缓解病痛，还是单纯为了获得感官兴奋所带来的肉体愉悦。

基于上述原因，我不承认我这样做是有罪的。即便是有罪，我仍然会决定这样写下去，因为这份自白对所有的鸦片吸食者都有一定的益处。那么，这些鸦片吸食者又是哪些人呢？亲爱的读者，很抱歉地告诉您，这实在是一个数量不小的人群。几年前，在英国一个很小的社会阶层范围内（这里说的是那些才华出众或者社会地位很高的人），在那些直接或间接认识的人中间，我数了数吸食鸦片的人数，就确信了这一点。比如说那位口才极佳、与人为善的某某某，已故教务长某某某，某某男爵，某某哲学家先生，已故政务次长某某某（他曾向我描述驱使他吸食鸦片的那种内心感觉，他的话竟然和某某教务长的话一模一样。他说，他感到像有很多老鼠在啃咬、刮擦他的胃部表皮）。还有很多，像某某先生和许多其他人都在其中。这些人的社会地位无不被人知晓，我不再一一列举。那么，如果在这么小的一个范围内，都有这么多鸦片吸食者，我们自然可以推论出，在所有英国人中，有多大比例的人在做这件事了。但对这一推论，我尚持怀疑态度，直到有一天，一些事实让我最后确信我的判断是绝对没错的。这里我要提到两件事。第一件事情是：我最近因为购买小剂量的鸦片，结识了三位住在伦敦郊区的药剂师。他们为人体面正派，向我证实当前业余鸦片吸食者（请允许我这样称呼他们）的数量非常之多。把这些拿吸食鸦片当成生活习惯的人和那些购买鸦片企图自杀的人区分开来，的确不是一件容易的事，这给他们带来了很多苦恼和争论。当然这件事看起来只是伦敦的个案。但还有一件事情可以引证（这件事可能会使你更为惊讶）：几年前，途经曼彻斯特的时候，我从几个棉花生产商那里得知，他们的工人在很短的时间内就都染上了吸食鸦片的习惯，这一现象相当普遍。一般到了周六下午，药店老板就会在柜台上散放好一粒、两粒、三粒的药丸，以备这些工人夜晚之需。工人们之所以染上这一习惯，主要是因为工资太低，让他们无法享受麦芽酒或者烈性酒的刺激。或许你觉得如果他们的工资涨了，就会改掉吸食鸦片的习惯，但我觉得这不可能。因为一个人一旦尝到了鸦片的美妙，就再也无法满足于酒精这样粗俗和凡间的刺激和享受了。我理所当然地相信：

过去从没吸过鸦片的人，现在开始尝试了；

而过去常吸鸦片的人，现在更变本加厉了。

确实，鸦片那让人销魂的力量，是连它最大的敌人——医药作家，都给予承认的。就拿格林尼治医院的药剂师艾维斯特来说，在《论鸦片的药效》（1763年出版）这篇文章里，当他试图解释为什么米德没能清楚充分地说明这种药的特性和副作用时，用了如下一段晦涩难懂的文字（Φωνâντασυνετïοτ）：【说给智者的话】“也许他认为这个话题过于微妙，不能向大众做太直白的描述。人们对鸦片必要的恐惧感和戒备心，会防止他们亲身体验这种药物的广泛药效。一旦这种恐惧感和戒备心被削弱，很多人就会不加选择地使用鸦片。鸦片有很多种药物特性，如果所有的人都对其谙熟在心，吸食鸦片的人无疑会大大增加，甚至英国人对它的需求会超过鸦片产地土耳其人对它的需求。人们知道了这些，”他补充道，“只会导致一场大规模的灾难。”他得出这样的结论，我不能完全赞同。但关于这个问题，我会在我这份自白的结尾处道出我个人的想法，并且向读者呈现我写这份自白的用意。

————————————————————

[1] 这里所说“未曾记录”，是因为当时有位名人，如果关于他的记录都是真实的话，服用鸦片的剂量远高于我。

开场白

【第一部分】

这些序言性的自白，或者说对作者青年时代探险经历的一个导言性的叙述，为作者在日后如何形成吸食鸦片的习惯做了铺垫性的解释。这样的预述是十分恰当和必要的，原因如下：

1．为了预先阻止人们提出那个大家都十分好奇的问题（否则这个问题就会在作者自白的叙述过程中不时地、令人不快地闯入视线）——“为什么一个有理智的人会让自己屈身于痛苦的枷锁之下，而因此蒙受卑躬屈膝的奴役耻辱，并且明知故犯地束身于七重锁链之苦呢？”这里我可以给大家一个满意的回答。这个问题，如果没有在某个地方给出合理的解释，很有可能会影响到人们对作者的同情程度，因为人们通常会对如此荒唐放纵的行为予以愤怒的谴责。而公众的同情理解无论如何都是作者所期盼的东西。

2．为后来为什么一些绝妙的场景会出现在瘾君子的梦境里提前提供一个答案。

3．除了自白本身，为自白这个话题引入某种个人的兴趣元素在里面，这样也无疑会使自白本身更具趣味性。比如，一个三句话不离“牛”的人成了瘾君子，那么（如果他不至于笨到连梦都不会做的话），他就一定会梦到牛。同理，读者会发现，他们面前的这个瘾君子，自夸是个哲学家，因此，在他的梦境中（醒着或者睡着，白日梦或者夜梦），千变万化的幻境里，出现的就应该是一个哲学家所应该梦到的东西：

他认为凡世间没有什么能够难倒他。

在他看来，在成就一个哲学家所必不可少的素质当中，不仅仅需要具备分析能力的超高智力，还需要内心具备道德意识（就这样的能力而言，英国人几代也出不了几个。至少，除了塞缪尔·泰勒·柯勒律治，以及最近在一个较小的思想学科领域崭露头角的大卫·里卡多之外[1]，他还没有发现一个可以被冠以哲学家称号的敏感的思考者）。道德意识会让一个人带着更锐利的目光和更强烈的直觉去感知人性的幻象与神秘。简而言之，这种道德意识（可以说，在这个星球上，世世代代的人从生下来，道德意识就被植入到思想意识中了），我们英国诗人具备的程度最高，而苏格兰的教授[2]具备的程度则最低。

经常有人问，我是怎样成为一个规律的鸦片吸食者的。很多熟识我的人也误以为我只是为了人为制造出令人愉快的兴奋才长时间沉溺于此的，并因此不得不承受所有这些苦楚。其实这是对事实的歪曲。在这将近十年的时间里，我的确是为了鸦片带给我的那种异常快乐的感觉偶尔吸食。但每当我怀着这样的想法吸食鸦片时，为了重新获得那种肉体的愉快感，总是会间隔很长时间才吸一次，这反而能更有效地抵御肉体上的痛楚。我第一次把鸦片当成我日常饮食的一部分时，并不是为了制造愉悦感，而是为了减轻身体上的极度痛苦。在我二十八岁那年，我感到胃部非常疼痛，难以忍受，实际上在之前十年我刚得上胃病的时候就领教过胃疼有多厉害了。我之所以得上这种顽疾，是学生时代长期忍受饥饿所致，在其后充满希望和幸福的年月里（也就是十八岁到二十四岁之间），胃疼暂时潜伏起来了。再往后的三年，胃疼又开始间歇发作。而现在，在某种不利的情况下，比如精神压抑时，胃疼就会保持猛烈的攻势，除了服用鸦片以外没有任何其他办法可以缓解。青年时代的苦难经历，导致我的胃功能紊乱。这本身讲起来就是很有意思的事情，而在这里，我要简单地讲一讲那些伴随这些经历的往事。

我父亲在我七岁左右时去世了，把我委托给四个监护人照顾。我曾经被送到大大小小各种各样的学校，我的古典素养很早就受人瞩目，尤其是我的希腊文知识。十三岁时，我就可以很轻松地书写希腊文。到了十五岁，我的希腊文水平就已经非常出色，我不仅可以用它写出抒情格律诗，还可以流利地用希腊文与人交流。可以毫不夸张地说，在那个年代，我还没有遇到一个学者能达到如此水平。我之所以掌握了这样的技能，是因为我每天看报纸的时候都要求自己把报纸上的文字即席地用希腊文读出来，这就必须全力搜索我的记忆并且编造词汇，找到各种各样迂回曲折的措词。现代词汇中的概念、意象、事物之间的联系给了我一个措词的指南针，而这样的措词是不可能通过乏味地翻译现代文章而得出的。“那个男孩子，”我的一个老师对一个我不认识的人说道，“那个男孩子能够对着一群雅典人慷慨陈词，滔滔不绝，比你我对着一个英国人说的还流畅自如。”这个不吝金玉而对我赞不绝口的人，是一位学者，“一位成熟而优秀的学者”。在所有教过我的老师当中，他是让我爱戴和尊重的其中之一。但不幸的是（后来我才得知，让这位杰出的学者义愤填膺的是），我先是被分给一个傻瓜导师，他总是担心我会随时揭穿他的无知，后来又被分给一位可敬的学者导师，他在一所历史悠久的名校里担任校长，这个职位是由牛津大学的某某学院委任的。他倒的确是一位可靠的、修养很好的学者，但是（像这所学院里我所认识的大部分人一样）偏于粗俗、笨拙而有失优雅。在我看来，和我最喜欢的那位具有伊顿学者式才华的老师比起来，他就成了一个典型的反面例子。而且，他在理解能力上的低下和匮乏，时时刻刻都逃不过我的眼睛。对一个男孩子来说，无论在知识方面还是思维能力上，自己的水平都远远超出老师，而且自己清楚这个事实，真是件很糟糕的事情。而我的导师就是这样的。至少在知识方面，不单我，一年级和我同窗的另外两个男孩子，希腊语的水平都要比这位校长好，虽然他们并不是什么优雅的学者，也更不会学着顾及什么体面。记得刚入校的时候，我们在读《索福克勒斯》，我们这一年级的“三头同盟”看着这位“尊贵的长者”（意思是“校长”，他喜欢被这样称呼）在课前认真地准备着课文以应对我们的提问，并且设计了一系列很难的词汇和语法练习题，以应付我们一齐向他发难。而我们不到上课是不会把书翻开的，大家都在忙着以他的假发或者诸如此类的“重要事情”为题目写讽刺诗呢。我的两位同学家境比较贫寒，他们是否有机会上大学，很大程度上取决于这位校长的推荐，而我拥有一份世袭的财产，真希望能即刻被送到大学去。关于这个问题，我认真地向我的监护人表述了我的想法，但是他们都没有给我回应。只有一位监护人算是比较通情达理、谙熟世故的，但是离我太远了，另外两位都表示把自己的监护发言权委托给第四位监护人。于是我就给第四位监护人写了信。他为人可敬，但是性情傲慢、固执、不能接受一切与他相左的想法。在写了几次信并进行了几次单独会面之后，我发现我对这位监护人无法再期冀什么，甚至连妥协的余地都没有。他对我的要求就是：无条件服从。于是我决定寻找其他途径获得帮助。夏天正迈着匆匆的脚步走来，我的十七岁生日很快就到了，我曾对自己发誓，过了十七岁生日就再也不能停留在中学了。钱是我现在最急需的东西，于是我给一位地位显赫的夫人写了一封信。她本人虽然年纪不大，但我很小的时候她就认识我了，而且最近对我一直格外关照。信中我向她借了五基尼的金币。接下来的一个多星期她没有回信，我因此感到有些沮丧。正在这时，一个仆人模样的人把一封折起来的信交到我手上，信封的封签上还有一个王冠印章。信里的文字友善亲切：写信人当时在海边度假，所以致使信件回复延误。她给我的钱双倍于我的请求，而且还善良地暗示：即便我不归还她这笔钱，她也不会因此破产。那么现在，我已经为我的计划准备就绪了。十个基尼，还有平时攒下的零花钱——两个基尼，似乎足够我用上相当长的一段时间了。在那样幸福的时光里，如果没有什么去限制一个人的能力的话，他那充满希望和快乐的情绪真是可以让他的能力无限发挥。

约翰逊博士说的对（这句话很富有感情，当然并非他所有的话都如此）当一个人知道这将是他最后一次做某件事（通常是指一个人长期习惯做的事情）的时候，会感到无比难过。当我要离开某某地方——一个我不喜欢也没有让我感到快乐的地方——时，我才深深地感受到这句话的真实性。就在我永远离开那里的前一天傍晚，当那个古老而高大的教室里回荡着我能听到的最后一次晚祷的声音时，当花名册的名字被顺次读出，而我的名字第一个被叫到时，我向前走去，经过站在一旁的校长身边，我向他鞠了一躬，认认真真地看了他的脸，然后对自己说：“这个又老又虚弱的家伙，我这辈子再也不会见到了。”事实证明我是对的：我后来再也没有见到他，也不会再见到了。他得意地看着我，和蔼地微笑着，向我还礼（或者说是向我告别），然后我们就永远（但是他当时没想到）分别了。在知识和学识上，我并不那么敬重他，但他对我却始终和蔼宽容，并在很多事情上放纵我，所以我一想到自己曾经给他造成的侮辱，内心就十分煎熬愧疚。

这一天早上终于到了，我就要踏进社会的大门，也就是从这一天开始，我之后的生活会在很多重要的方面，被添上各种色彩。我当时就住在那位校长的房子里，而且从我一住进去，就被允许拥有一个单独的房间。就是这个房间，我把它既当卧室又当书房。那天早上，我三点半就起床了，带着深厚的感情凝视着周围的古塔，它们在这个七月的清晨，“披着黎明的第一缕阳光”，并在随后灿烂的阳光照射下，愈发变成了深红色。我的目标坚定而不可动摇，但是心里也充满着对将来可能会出现的各种危险和麻烦的担心。如果我当时就能够预见到后来给我带来深重苦难和身心折磨的那场飓风和剧烈的雹暴，我可能真的就会非常焦虑。与这种焦虑不安形成鲜明对照的是清晨一片深沉的宁静，这种宁静某种程度上也成为了我疗伤的一剂良药，它让我不再那样焦虑。清晨的宁静要比深夜的宁静更加深邃，而对我来说，夏日清晨的宁静要比所有其他情形下的宁静都要感人，因为夏日清晨的阳光明亮、强烈，就如其他季节中午的太阳一样，却又与中午的太阳不同，因为那时人还没有出门活动。所以只要人类以及他们焦躁不安的灵魂不出现，不来打扰这一片圣洁，大自然的宁静以及上帝创造的那些无辜的生命的安静状态就不会被破坏。我穿好衣服，戴上帽子和手套，在房间里逗留了一会儿。在过去一年半的时间里，这个房间一直是我“沉思冥想的私人城堡”。在这里，我曾经彻夜读书学习，虽然后来，在我和我的监护人发生争吵和激烈冲突的那段时间里，的确失去了快乐和幸福感——因为我这个人天生需要关爱和温情。但从另一方面来说，作为一个如此痴迷于读书和求知并把全部精力都用在上面的男孩子，我又不得不承认，在心情沮丧的那些时日里，我还是在这里享受了许多快乐的读书时光。环视这个房间，椅子、壁炉、写字台以及所有那些熟悉的物件，我哽咽了，流泪了。我很清楚，自己以后再也不会看见它们了。我在写下这些文字的时候，已经时隔十八年，但这一切仿佛就发生在昨天。就在这一刻，那天临别时我依依不舍地注视的那些物件的线条和轮廓都还历历在目，那幅某某某的可爱的肖像画，悬挂在壁炉架上。她的眼睛和嘴唇都是那样的美丽，面庞散发出和蔼亲切、让人感到神圣的宁静。我曾经无数次地放下手中的笔或者书本，试图从这幅肖像画中得到慰藉，就仿佛一个虔诚的信徒向自己的守护神祈求福佑一般。正当我凝神注视着画像的时候，某某地方的大钟沉沉地敲响，提醒我已经四点钟了。我站起来，走向那张画像，亲吻了它一下，然后，走出了房间，永远地关上了那扇门。

我这一生可谓尝尽五味，充满了令人啼笑皆非的故事和经历。有件临行时发生的事情，至今回忆起来，我还忍不住会笑出来。这件事情的发生差一点断送了我上大学的计划。我有一个非常沉重的行李箱，里面除了我的衣物，还装着我所有的书籍。怎么把它运到运输公司，是个让我头疼的问题。首先，我的房间在这所房子的最高层；其次，（更糟糕的是）我进出房间所用的楼梯间，一定要经过校长房间所在的那个走廊才行。好在我在仆人们中间的人缘很好，知道他们中的任何一个人都愿意掩护我，尽力为我做事。于是，我把这件令人为难的事情跟校长的一个男仆讲了，这位男仆表示愿意为我做任何事情。后来，时间一到，他就上楼把我的箱子往下搬。我担心这个箱子的重量没有谁能够拿得动，但是这位仆人却：

有着顶天巨人阿特拉斯的肩膀，

简直扛得动几个最强大的王国。

他还有着索尔斯伯里平原一样宽大的脊背，所以坚持要一个人把箱子拿下来。我呢，就站在最后一段楼梯下面等着他，心里仍然为此担心焦虑。过了一阵子，我听见他迈着又慢又稳的脚步一步一步地往下走。但不幸的是，在他差几步就到走廊里那个最危险的地方时，可能出于恐惧，他脚下一滑，肩膀上的箱子一下子掉到地上。箱子摔到每一级台阶上都带着重重的冲力，后来干脆是翻滚着或者说是跳跃着落到地面，犹如二十个魔鬼一起发出的巨大噪声，最后径直砸向了我们这位“尊贵的长者”的卧室门上。我第一个反应就是：我的计划全泡汤了。能让我逃离的唯一办法就是：丢下我的行李不要了。但是，我想了一下，决定观察观察再说。这位仆人也是惊恐万分，为他自己，也为我。但是尽管事情搞成这样，这种滑稽可笑的感觉还是不可阻挡地战胜了其他想法。终于他发出一阵长长的、响亮的、音调优美的笑声，仿佛能把“七睡人”都吵醒。就在这位权威人士的耳朵边上，发出如此洪亮快乐的笑声，让我也不禁加入，一起大笑起来。我倒不是在笑因为这个箱子而不幸发生的事件，而是在笑这件事让这位仆人作出的滑稽反应。我们两个都理所当然地猜想，这位某某博士会突然冲出房间，因为平常，即便是一只老鼠在外面走动，他都会像一只獒犬从自己的狗窝里跳出来一样大发脾气。但这一次很奇怪，吵闹的笑声停下来以后，他的卧室里一片寂静，没有一点声音。某某博士患有一种病痛，有时让他无法入睡，但有的时候也会让他睡得格外昏沉。仆人看没有声响，就鼓起勇气，又把箱子重新扛起来，没有声响和疏漏地走完剩下的楼梯台阶。我就等在那里，直到看见箱子已经放在手推车上面，准备送往运输公司，我这才“以上帝作向导”踏上征程——把我的几件衣物夹在腋下，一个口袋里装着我最喜欢的诗人的诗集，而另外一个口袋里装着一本十二开的欧里庇得斯的九部戏剧。

我本来打算要去威斯特摩兰县的，既因为我对那里的喜爱，也出于其他个人原因。但出现了意外事件，让我不得不改变漂泊的方向，朝着北威尔士进发了。

在登比郡、梅里奥尼斯、卡那封郡漂泊了一段时间以后，我在B城一个整洁的小房子里落脚了。在这里，我本可以过上几周舒坦的日子，那里的物资很便宜，因为没有其他市场可以消化附近这个广袤的农业区里产出的过剩农产品。然而，又是一次意外事件（当然这里可能不存在人为原因），迫使我又开始向异地漂泊。我不知道我的读者朋友是否注意到，但我本人时常发现，在英国，最自负高傲的一个阶层（或者说高傲姿态最显而易见的阶层）就是那些主教的家族。这里让我们先说说贵族及其子女吧。他们随身携带的头衔封号本身就在充分标榜着他们的身份地位。不仅如此，就连他们的名字本身（这其中也包括那些没有封号的家族），让英国人听起来，也足够说明他们出身高贵了。萨克威尔、曼纳斯、菲茨罗伊、波利特、卡文迪什和其他不下几十种姓氏，本身就在宣扬着他们家族的高贵血统和悠长历史。因此，这些人无论到了哪里，都会理所当然地认为他们拥有根深蒂固的声望，只有那些因为自己地位卑微而对世事孤陋寡闻的人除外。那些人会说：“我不认识他们，所以也没有人认识我。”他们的举止通常具有一种和身份相配的姿态和色彩。一旦觉得有必要让别人感受到自己的影响力，他们就会不失时机地选择用一种礼貌、屈尊的行为来弱化自己固有的那种姿态。而主教家族的那些人就完全不是这样了。要想让他们看清自己的自负高傲，简直比登天还难。在任何时候，由贵族来担当上院主教的情况都不多。而这些高贵职位的传递继承又通常很迅速，以至于公众还没有来得及熟悉这个名字，就又换成下一个名字了，除非某些人享有文学上的声誉。因此，这些主教的子女们通常带有一副严峻冷漠的外表，这或许也说明了他们的声望还没有得到公众的认可，一种noli me tangere（“请别靠近我”）的姿态。害怕与他人有近距离的接触，就如同痛风病人会敏感地躲开οι пολλοι（“人群”）一样。毋庸置疑的是，强大的理解能力和不寻常的善良本性可以使人摆脱这样的弱点，但总的来说，我在这里讲的话会得到大众的认同：骄傲自负，即便还没有在这样的家庭根深蒂固的话，至少也很大程度地体现在他们的行为举止上了。这种行为举止的姿态，也就自然而然会传染给他们的仆人和其他侍从。我当时的房东曾经在某某主教家中给一位小姐做过佣人或者说是奶妈，她是最近才刚刚嫁人，在这里最后“定居”（他们这些人都习惯于用这个字眼）下来的。在B城这样的小镇里，哪怕仅仅是曾经在主教家里住过也是一件无上荣幸的事情，而我的这位房东女士心里那份自豪感还远远不限于此。她经常会提起“我的老爷”说了什么什么，“我的老爷”做了什么什么，他在议会中的角色有多么多么的重要，他在牛津是如何地不可或缺……这些就是她每天都要对我讲的话。而我，完全能够忍受她的措词和谈话内容。因为本性太过善良，我从不会当面取笑别人，我还是能够体谅和包容一位老仆人的喋喋不休的。但不可避免的是，我肯定多多少少流露出了什么，让她觉得我没有充分地对这位主教的重要性给予肯定。可能出于这个原因，也可能是出于偶然，有一天，她向我重复了一段对话，这段对话里我是一个间接被谈及的人物。有一天，她去主教家里做礼节性的拜访，晚饭结束后，她被传唤到餐厅里，在说到她目前的家庭经济情况时，她偶然提起把房子里的一些房间出租的事情。随即，这位（看似）善良的主教便借此机会提醒她要注意挑选房客。“因为，”他说，“贝蒂，你一定知道，我们这个地方正好是通往海角的必经之路，那些为了躲债想逃往英格兰的爱尔兰骗子，还有那些企图躲债而逃往曼岛的英格兰骗子，在逃跑的路上都会取道于此。”他的建议当然不无道理，但是作为贝蒂，她应该把它放在心里，自己私下忖度就是了，而不是说给我听。然而，接下来发生的事情就更糟糕了。“哦，我的老爷，”我的房东回答道（这是她自己对当时对话的还原），“我觉得我这里这位年轻的绅士不是骗子，因为……”“你觉得我不是骗子？”我打断了她的话，心里充满难以抑制的愤怒，“我想我以后还是不要让您费脑筋来想这个问题了。”然后我一刻也没耽误地收拾东西，准备离开。这位好心的女士其实还是想和我做一些缓和的妥协的，但严苛加轻蔑的表情写在我这张博学而自重的人脸上，同样让她心生愤怒，于是我们之间的和解成为了不可能。不管主教先生提出的怀疑是基于什么样的理由，即便他说得多么的间接，涉及的其实是一个他从来都没有见到过的人，对此，我实在感到非常生气。我于是企图让他见识一下我对希腊文的运用能力。一方面，他可以就此推论出我不是一个骗子，同时又能迫使主教先生用希腊文和我对话。如果这样做的话，我相信我一定会证明：虽然没有主教那样富有，但起码我是一个比他优秀几倍的希腊学家。但是，最后我还是打消了这个略带孩子气的主意。毕竟，作为一位主教，他完全有权力向他的佣人提供他认为必要的建议。而且，贝蒂夫人把这番建议重述给我本身就反映出她思维的简单，而这种思维方式很有可能让她把对话的还原做得更符合自己的行为和思维方式，而歪曲了这位可敬的主教原本的措词和用意。

我即刻离开了房东的住所，而这一离开却着实让我陷入了很麻烦的境地。从那一刻起，我就住进了旅店，于是很快花光了积蓄。两周以后，我不得不节衣缩食，也就是说，我一天只能吃一顿饭。因为活动量很大，我的食欲始终旺盛，加上山上清新的空气作用于我这个年轻人的胃口，我很快就无法忍受这样微薄的供给了。每天这顿冒着透支风险的饭食，也就是一份咖啡或者茶水。但就是这样省吃俭用，最后还是身无分文了。从那以后，我留在威尔士的每一天，或者靠黑莓、蔷薇果、山楂果，或者靠自己有机会向他人提供一些零散、短期的服务来维持生计。有时候，我为那些恰好在利物浦或者伦敦有亲戚的村民们写一些往来的信函。更多的时候，我会为住在什鲁斯伯里或者英格兰边境的其他小镇上当佣人的那些年轻少妇写写情书，寄给她们的心上人。每次做这些事情，我都会令我那些地位卑微的朋友们感到十分满意，而因此被他们热情十足地招待一番。特别是有一次，在兰伊斯汀德（或者是一个类似的名字）村庄附近，梅里奥尼斯郡一个幽静的地方，我被一个家庭的几个年轻人款待了三天都不止。他们手足般的友善和热情在我的心里留下非常深刻的印象，甚至到现在也丝毫没有淡化。那时候，他家里有四个姐妹和三个兄弟，都已长大成人，举止优雅。美丽的外表、良好的教养、文雅的气质，除了在韦斯特莫兰和德文郡见到过一两次以外，之前和之后我都不记得还在哪个村庄里见过。他们个个都能说英文，在成员众多的家庭中，这种能力并不多见，尤其是在远离公路的偏远村庄里，就显得更难得了。我首先作了自我介绍，接着就为其中一个男孩子写了一封关于申请奖金的信函，因为他曾经作为英国士兵在海军服役，然后又为两个女孩子写了两封情书，她们两个长得都很好看，其中一个还格外可爱。她们向我口授信件的措词和需要注意润色的地方时，我看见她们困惑、害羞的神情，于是毫不费力地猜到她们希望我做的事情是：信中的文字要写得尽可能的亲密，但也要符合少女的矜持和自重。我设法把我的文字修饰得温和得体，以便于同时满足她们的两个要求。结果，她们一方面表示对我所用的表达她们感情和思想的文字感到满意，另一方面又对我一下子就看出她们的意思来感到惊讶（这是因为她们太单纯了）。通常来说，女主人对待客人的态度就决定了一个人在这里受欢迎的程度。而我在他们中间，已经成了一个可以被信赖的秘书。我让他们一家人都感到满意，而且他们还可能很喜欢与我在一起交谈。于是他们邀请我一定留下来，热情真挚的态度让我无法拒绝。我留了下来，和三个兄弟睡在一起，因为唯一的一张空床在那些女孩子的房间里。但是在其他方面，他们对我都表现得非常敬重，这种尊敬通常是不会给我这样无权无势的人的。这就仿佛我的学识就可以提供足够的证据，证明我出身高贵一样。就这样，我和他们在一起生活了整整三天，再加上第四天的大半天。从他们对我丝毫未减的热情和友善来看，我觉得要不是他们有些力不从心的话，我可以和他们一直同住到现在。最后一天的早上，当他们坐下来吃早餐时，我注意到他们的表情，感觉到可能有什么不愉快的事情要发生。果然，一会儿，一个男孩子对我解释说，我到他们家的前一天，他们的父母刚出门，去参加在卡那封郡召开的卫理公派的一次年会，现在他们就要回来了。“如果他们举止不符身份，有些失礼冒犯的话，”他代表他们几个年轻人向我请求，千万不要生气。他们的父母果然回来了，粗鲁无礼、满脸不快，对我说的所有的话，都用一句“蒂姆，撒森纳可”（他们不会说英语）来回答。我看到境况如此，就跟我的几位美丽而友善的年轻主人深情地告别，之后我就上路了。尽管他们为了我能留下来跟他们的父母说了很多好话，也不停地请求我原谅这些上了岁数的人，说“他们就是这样的风格”，我还是婉言谢绝了。我很清楚，我写情书的才能，如同我对希腊沙弗诗体以及阿尔凯奥斯诗体的文字编纂能力一样，根本不能赢得这两位严肃的六十多岁的威尔士卫理公派信徒的欢心。这样一来，原来我的年轻主人们给我的热情款待，一旦和这两位老人的苛刻态度扯上关系时，就会变成怜悯和施舍。的确，雪莱先生关于老年的一些观点是正确的。他认为：除非用各种各样的力量来抵消它的作用力，否则年老会是腐蚀和破坏人内心中的亲切和慈善的杀手。

不久以后，我辗转来到伦敦，至于过程如何，受篇幅所限，这里就不详述了。从那时起，我就开始了我后来人生中一段异常痛苦的岁月。一点也不夸张地说，那段日子简直陷我于极度的苦难之中。在长达十六个星期的时间里，我忍受着饥饿给我带来的不同程度和强度的痛苦，那种强度是任何一个有类似经历但最后存活下来的人都可能感受过的。但这里我觉得没必要用语言细节性地描述我所承受过的痛苦来侵扰读者的情感。这样极端的困境，哪怕不是亲眼所见，只是文字描述，也一定会引来人的善良本性给予它的悲伤的同情。就算这些都是因为其本人严重的行为不当或者罪行招致的，人们都还是会施以同情。比如，有一段时间，我时不时地从一个人（这个人认为我生了病，其实他不知道我处于极度饥饿的状态）的早点餐桌上拾起面包的碎屑作为我全部的供给来填补饥饿，光这一件事写出来就足矣。在这段痛苦岁月的前半部分（主要是在威尔士的那段时间，还有在伦敦的前两个月），我没有住所，大部分时间只能露宿街头。我想正是因为我经常暴露在露天野地的恶劣环境下，才让我在苦难的境况下依然保持生命力。后来，随着愈发寒冷严酷的天气渐渐逼近，也由于长期饱受饥饿的折磨，我的身体开始慢慢地衰退。很幸运的是，就是我刚刚提到的早餐桌上的面包屑被我吃掉的那个人，让我住进了他的大空房子，他是这所房子的住客。我之所以叫它空房子，是因为里面既没有家眷也没有任何家具或其他陈设，只有一张桌子和几把椅子。但是当我住进我的房间时，我才发现原来这个房子里已经有一位同住者了。她是一个可怜的没有伙伴的孩子，表面上看起来大概有十岁。她似乎经常饱受饥饿，而经历苦难的孩子通常看起来要比实际年龄大一些。从这个孤苦伶仃的孩子嘴里，我得知在我来之前，她已经一个人住在这里有一段时间了。当她意识到我会在以后的日子里成为她的同伴，陪她一起度过漆黑的长夜时，她不禁表现得非常高兴。这个房子果然很大，因为没有什么家具陈设，耗子的动静在宽敞的楼梯间和大厅里形成了很响的回音。夹杂在寒冷、饥饿的苦难中，我想，这个被遗弃的小女孩儿一定在闲下来的时候，更多地遭受着自己臆想出来的鬼魂带来的恐惧。我答应小女孩儿，不管是遇到鬼还是别的什么东西，我都会保护她不受伤害。可是，唉，除此之外，我没有能力向她提供其他任何帮助了。我们就那样躺在地板上，把一捆该死的法律文件放在头下当枕头，除了一张很大的马夫用的斗篷以外，我们没有其他可以盖在身上的东西了。然而，后来，我们在阁楼里发现了一个破旧的沙发套，一小块毯子和其他几片零零碎碎的东西。我们将它们盖在身上，感觉稍微暖和了一些。可怜的小女孩儿因为寒冷，也因为害怕她臆想出的那些鬼魂敌人，经常爬到我身旁来取暖。在我病得不像平常那样厉害的时候，我就把她搂在怀里，这样，她就会觉得暖和许多，可以忍受了，就渐渐睡去，而我却无法入睡。因为在遭受痛苦的过去两个月里，我白天睡得很多，几乎所有的时间都在一阵一阵地打盹。睡着比醒着更让我感到痛苦和烦恼，我的梦里时常是混乱骚动的场面（这样的状况只是比我后来描述的吸过鸦片以后做的梦稍好一些）。不仅如此，我的睡眠顶多就是人们常说的“打盹”，我甚至可以听到自己的呻吟，而且好像经常会被自己发出的声音忽然唤醒。一般在这种情况下，只要我一睡着，就会有一种可怕的感觉向我袭来。这种感觉在我生命的不同阶段曾多次向我发动进攻，那是一种痉挛抽搐引起的疼痛（我不知道它到底在哪里，但我明确地感觉到是在胃部周围）。剧烈疼痛会让我不由得伸出脚去使劲地连踢带蹬，企图减轻痛苦。我每每要入睡的时候，这种感觉就会发作，而想要减缓疼痛的努力时常又把我唤醒，于是我只能是在困极了的时候才能睡上一会儿（就像我从前说过的那样）。我就这样频繁地睡去又频繁地醒来，而这个房子的主人会突然闯进来看看我们，有时候很早，有时候要到十点才来，有时候根本就不来。他当时在修改克伦威尔计划，十分害怕法院执行官的出现，每天晚上住在伦敦的不同区域。而且我注意到，每次有人敲门的时候，他都要从私人窗户向外窥探，先确定是什么人在敲门，然后再决定开不开。他通常是一个人吃早餐，不过他的餐具似乎也不允许他再邀请第二个人了，而且所有能食用的东西加在一起也不容许第二个人来分享。他吃的东西往往就是他从住的地方回来路上买的一个面包卷，或者几块饼干而已。就算他曾经请过客人吃饭的话，如同我跟他半开玩笑似的聊起过的那样，那么这些客人就必须排好队等候（而不是坐在一起）。即像形而上学家说的那样，他们不能在同一个地点同时存在，而是必须在不同时间存在。在他吃早餐的时候，我经常会设法走近他，尽可能地装出一副漫不经心的样子，然后找机会把他餐桌上剩下的食物捡起来吃掉，但有的时候的确什么都没有剩下。我这样做表面上看跟抢劫扯不上关系，但对他而言简直就是抢劫，为此他有时不得已（我是这样猜想）要派我到中午再买上一块饼干填补。至于那个可怜的女孩子，她是从来都不许走进那间书房（如果我可以把他存放羊皮纸文件和法学著作等东西的房间叫作书房的话）的。那个房间对她而言，就是这个房子里面的“蓝胡子”房间。这间房间通常在他六点钟左右离开这里去吃晚餐之前就会被锁上，而他这一离开之后就不会再回来了，直到第二天早上回来吃早餐。至于这个女孩子到底是某某先生的私生女，还是仅仅是一个仆人，我还没有搞清楚。她自己也不清楚，但很显然，她是被当作一个卑贱的家奴来使唤的。只要某某先生一出现，她就要跑到地下室去，给他擦皮鞋、掸衣服，除非是主人传唤她去办什么事情，否则她绝不许离开那地狱般阴郁的厨房到上面来。而且要等到晚上我回来敲门，她才可以踮着颤抖的双脚走到前门来。至于她白天都做些什么，我基本上不知道，只是从她晚上给我讲述的东西里略知一二。我看出来，只要工作时间一开始，我还是不在这所房子里更为合适，于是我通常会离开，到公园里坐坐，或者别的什么地方，直到晚上才回来。

但是，这位房主本人到底是什么样的人，又是做什么工作的呢？读者们，让我告诉你们：他是那些异类的底层律师当中的一员。他——我怎么说才好呢——或者是出于审慎的态度，或者是出于必要的原因，和所有的律师一样，克制自己纵情于过于脆弱的良心（这个说法过于拐弯抹角，文字本可以大幅删减，但我还是想让读者自己去体会其中的含义）：在各行各业中，良心是比妻子和马车更加昂贵的累赘品。就像人们说“放弃”他们的马车一样，我推想，我的朋友，某某先生也早已经“放弃”了他的良心。当然，当他再一次觉得负担得起的时候，他还是会把它拾回来。如果我愿意考虑牺牲他来娱乐我的读者的话，我可以告诉你们：这样一个人日常生活的“内在经济状况”，是很奇怪的。虽然我观察到他本人的机会相对有限，但是我见过在伦敦上演的那些阴谋诡计，复杂的尔虞我诈，简直可以说是“套套相连，环环相扣”。有些事情我现在想起来还忍不住想笑一笑，虽然当时我自身落魄，也不免报之一笑。然而，当时的处境致使我的经历有限，无法摸透这位某某先生的性格和人品，只能感受到他让人尊敬的地方。至于他那些奇怪的品行，除了他已经尽了自己的全部能力对我施舍恩惠，为人慷慨以外，其他事情我应该全部忘记掉。

房主的能力的确有限，不过，和那些老鼠一样，我也不交房租。正像约翰逊博士曾记录下来的，他一生只有一次饱饱地吃了一顿墙栽水果。所以，我还是应该懂得感恩，在那段时间里，我可以在伦敦一座相当不错的宅第里任意选择自己想住的房间。除了被那个可怜的孩子认为鬼魂萦绕的“蓝胡子”房间以外，从顶层的阁楼到地下室，所有的房间我们都可以自由使用，可以说“整个世界都展现在我们面前”。到了晚上，我们可以随意选择一个地方支起帐篷。我前面说过，这是一个非常巨大的房子，坐落在伦敦知名地区的一个很显眼的位置。我相信，很多读者在读到这里的时候，都会在几小时以后，跑去看一看这座大宅子。而我自己也是同样，每次有事情到伦敦来，都要去那里再看一看。1821年8月15日——我的生日——晚上十点左右，在散步过后，我改变了方向，沿着牛津大街向前走，故意要来看看这座宅第。现在这座宅第里住着一户可敬的人家。从前面客厅里发出的光线看进去，他们一家人正在聚会，坐在一起，好像是在喝茶，看得出来，他们个个轻松愉快。这和十八年前同一所房子在我眼里的那份黑暗、寒冷、寂静、破败形成了鲜明的对照，那时候这所房子的住客只有两个人——一个饥肠辘辘的学者和一个被人遗弃的孩子。顺便说一句，我在后来曾努力寻找过那个孩子的踪迹，但却始终没有结果。除了处境特殊以外，她并不是人们常说的那种能引起关注的人。她既不漂亮，也不聪慧，更谈不上举止宜人。感谢上帝，即使在那些年里，我也不需要什么新奇的装饰品来慰藉自己的情感。把自己包裹在简陋朴素的衣服里，保存最朴素的人性，对我来说就已经足够了。我很喜爱这个孩子，因为她在我凄惨不幸的岁月中成为我的同伴。如果她现在还活着的话，她可能已经是一个母亲了，有了自己的孩子，但就像我先前说过的那样，我再也没有找到过她。

这让我感到很遗憾，但当时，还有另外一个人，我也曾经更加全力以赴地寻找过她的踪迹，然而最终失败的结局让我更加感到悲伤难过。那是一个年轻的妇人，是当时那些靠卖身来维持生计的不幸阶层中的一员。我并不为她感到羞耻，也没有理由为她感到羞耻。我必须承认，我当时和这些处于不幸的妇人之间保持着很熟识和友好的关系。读者朋友们，你们不必对此轻蔑一笑或者蹙眉窘迫，我不必向我这些熟悉古典文学的读者提示那句拉丁语里的俗语“Sine Cerere”（“食不裹腹，何谈淫欲”）什么的。从我当时钱袋里的状况就可以猜出，我和这些妇人之间根本不可能有下流的关系。事实上，我的一生中，从没有让自己因为接触到什么人而受到玷污。正相反，从很早的青年时代开始，我就十分乐意更多地以苏格拉底的方式和各种各样的人亲切交谈，包括男人、女人和孩子。这样做让我得以更好地了解人性，保有美好的情感，保持被认为是作为哲学家所应具有的谈吐和坦率的性情。一个哲学家，不能像凡夫俗子一样用带有局限性的眼光来看待人和事物，不能用狭隘、自负的眼光，带着偏见评价别人的出身和受教育的状况。他应该把自己看作是一个天主教徒，平等地对待所有的人，无论他们出身高贵还是下贱，受过良好教育还是没受过教育，有罪还是无罪。由于我当时不得不到处漂泊，或者说不得不在大街上流浪，也就很自然地和这些在专门术语里被称作是“街头拉客妓女”的妇人们慢慢熟识起来了。倘若我坐在某些房子前面的台阶上，看门人走过来，试图把我赶走，这些妇人会为我挺身而出，和看门人理论一番。但她们当中有一位，前面开始说这个话题的时候，我介绍过她的——噢，不，还没有提过。我不能把你归到这群妇人中去，我高尚圣洁的安。如果可能的话，让我找一些温和的字眼来说说她当时的状况吧。她有着慷慨大方和同情怜悯之心，在全世界都将我遗弃的时候提供给我她能给我的一切。要是没有她在我身边，我绝对活不到现在。那时，有很多个星期，我都在夜晚和这个可怜的女孩子在牛津大街上来来回回地走，或者在台阶上，或者在某个门廊下面，和她一起休息。她不可能有我这么大的年龄，据她自己告诉我，她还没到十六岁。我出于关心经常问她些类似问题，渐渐地我也就勾勒出她简单的出身背景了。她的情况属于很普通的一种（我认为我有理由这样想），如果伦敦的慈善机构能够调整一下自己的安排，来面对和应付这样的问题的话，法律的力量就会有更多的机会干预进来，保护无辜者，惩罚侵害人。伦敦慈善事业的基金流，虽然流得深邃、有力，但却始终悄无声息、不为人知，那些可怜的无家可归的流浪者是连边儿都靠不上的。不可否认，伦敦社会的大气候和城市的体制构架是严酷、残忍、冷漠的。但不管怎样，她受到的部分伤害可以很容易得到补偿，我经常认真地催促她去找法官告状。她虽然没有朋友，我还是向她保证，如果她去告状，一定会立刻引起关注，而英国一视同仁的司法体系也一定会迅速而充分地为她报仇，那个掠夺了她仅有的一点儿财产的野蛮恶棍也终将得到惩罚。她经常向我保证说会去告状的，但还是一直拖延着，没有走那条我时不时给她指出来的路。她胆小、沮丧，看得出来悲哀已经深深地占据了她年轻的心。也许她有充分的理由认为，即使是最正派的法官，最公正的法庭，也无法修复她曾遭受的不公正。然而，有些事情还是可以做的，我们最终达成约定，一两天以后，我们一起去见法官，然后我会代表她发言。这对我来说只是提供一个很小的帮助，但不幸的是约定达成的这一天正好是我倒数第二次与她相见的时候，所以这就注定了我连这个忙也没帮上。而她施与我的，让我永远也报答不完的是——我来讲讲这段故事吧。有一段时间，我始终感觉病得比以往更严重，身体也是从来没有过的虚弱。到了晚上，我们先是沿着牛津大街缓缓踱步，然后我请求她改道索霍广场，于是我们去了。我们在一所房子前的台阶上坐下来。这个地方，直到今天，我每每经过的时候，都克制不住地产生一阵阵的悲伤和痛心，想起她在那里曾经实施的高尚行为，内心里对这个不幸女孩子的敬意也不禁油然而生。我们坐下后，我突然感到身体愈加不适，我本来是把头倚在她胸前的，突然一下子我从她的手臂上滑了下来，向后仰在了台阶上。从当时身体的感觉来判断，我心里最强烈的直觉告诉我，如果没有一种强效的、能起死回生的药，我可能会当场死在那里：或者至少会晕厥过去，而从晕厥的状态再恢复到从前，在当时无依无靠的境况下，几乎是没有任何希望的。就是在这个时候，在我生命的危急时刻，我这个身为孤儿的同伴，在这个世界上除了伤痛没得到任何东西的可怜的同伴，伸出了援助之手。她因为吓坏了先是叫了一声，接着一刻也没有耽搁地跑回牛津大街，以无法想象的速度，跑回到我身边，拿给我一杯加了香料的波尔图葡萄酒。这杯酒下肚，立刻作用于我空空如也的胃部（我当时已经吃不了固体食物了），让我奇迹般地迅速恢复了体力。这个慷慨的女孩子几乎把自己寒酸的钱包里的钱都用尽了，却没有一句埋怨。让我永远记住她吧！当时她的钱可是连买最基本的生活必需品都很勉强，而且她也不可能期待我有朝一日会偿还她这笔钱。啊，我年轻的女施主！在后来的若干年里，我有多少次站在孤寂无人的地方，带着一颗悲痛忧伤的心和纯洁无瑕的爱思念着你。就像古时候一个父亲的诅咒被认为是具有超自然的力量，带着不达目的不罢休的决心追寻自己的目标那样，我的内心因为感激背负着沉重的折磨，也满载着一个愿望，希望它也能享有魔力，去追逐你的身影，陪伴在你身边，带你到伦敦一所暗无天日的妓院，或者到黑暗的坟墓里（如果可能的话）。在那里，我要用踏踏实实的平静、宽恕和最终的调解来唤醒你。

我不是经常流泪的人。其一，因为我每天，不，是每时每刻，做的与人们最感兴趣的话题相关的思考，让我经常沉浸在千寻之下的深度，无泪可流；其二，我在思考上一贯的严肃性，与催人流泪的情感总是相悖，流泪对我来说是不必要的。而对于有些人来说，他们的轻浮一方面使他们不容易陷于沉沉的哀伤中，另一方面，当这种情感偶尔袭来时，他们又因为轻浮禁不住陷入哀伤；其三，所有对这个问题做过和我一样深度思考的人们，为了使自己免于陷入彻底的绝望，一定早产生和抱有了某种让自己镇静下来的信仰——坚信人类的苦难也许含有某种晦涩未解的意义，这种苦难会在未来得到某种补偿。就是因为这些原因，我到今天还是一个乐观派，像我前面说过的那样，我不经常流泪。但是我的人生中也有某些情感，虽然没有那么深刻，也并不那么强烈，却是最让我感到敏感脆弱的。每每在这个时候，我走在牛津大街上，经过光线朦胧柔和的一盏盏路灯，听见多年前曾经慰藉过我和我亲爱的伴侣（我会永远这样称呼她）的手摇风琴弹奏出的曲调时，我都会潸然泪下，默默地回忆起突然而紧急地将我们永久分开的那件往事，那仿佛是天意，上帝神秘的安排吧。那么这件事是怎么发生的呢？读者们，你们把我这段序言剩下的部分读完自然就明白了。

我刚刚讲过的那件事情发生后不久，我就在阿尔伯马尔大街上遇到了已故国王家室中的一位绅士，这位绅士从前受到过我们家人的几次热情款待。虽然我长相与家人相似，但他还是盘问了我一些问题。我没有掩饰自己的身份，坦率地回答了他所有的问题。在他以自己的名誉起誓，不把我的下落出卖给我的监护人之后，我把我律师朋友的地址给了他。第二天，我就从他那里收到了一张面值十英镑的钞票。装英镑的这个信封，是和其他商务信件一起发给那位律师的。虽然他的表情和举止都在向我表示他对信件内容的怀疑，但是，他还是把它体面而不加迟疑地给了我。

由于这份特别的帮助，我不得不要说一说吸引我辗转前往伦敦的目的，而这个目的，正是我从第一天到伦敦直至离开伦敦所一直祈求得到（这里用一个法庭术语）的。

在伦敦这个偌大的城市里，如果我说我找不到生计来逃脱最极度的贫穷状态的话，我的读者们一定会感到很吃惊。读者们一定会说起码有两种途径可以保证我的生计啊——或者从我们家的朋友那里得到资助，或者可以把我年轻的才华和学业上的成就转化成一种工资报酬。关于第一种途径，可以这样说，我十分担心我的监护人会发现我的行踪而重新收服我，这种恐惧胜过一切妖魔鬼怪。如果是那样，毫无疑问，法律赋予他们的权利会让他们对我产生最大的不利，也就是说，他们会最大限度地强制我返回出走不归的学校，而这种回归即使是在我自愿的情况下，在我看来仍是一种莫大的耻辱，何况他们这样做其实是在对我本人公开的愿望表示一种蔑视和挑衅。由此而带给我的屈辱比死亡的威胁更加糟糕，而这样的剧情也必然会以我的死亡为结局。因此，我有足够多的顾虑不去向家人和朋友求助，因为这样做要冒着监护人可能会因此找到我的行踪的风险。虽然我确信在他们那里我一定会得到我需要的援助。尤其在伦敦这个地方，我父亲生前肯定结交过很多朋友，但是（他去世已经十年了），他们的名字我能记住的也不是很多了。我以前从没来过伦敦，只是有一次在这里停留了几个小时，所以唯一能记住名字的那几个人住在什么地方，我就更不知道了。于是，部分原因是很难找到他们，更重要的原因是我前面说到的内心极度的恐惧，这两个原因使我不愿意诉诸于第一种途径。而说到另外一种途径，我现在倒是愿意请读者们和我一起想一想为什么会忽略它。作为希腊文的校稿编辑（就算我只会做这个），想要满足自己本来就不多的生活需求，还是绰绰有余的。我可以找一家这样的办公处所，用我准确、及时的校对工作赢得他们的信任。但是别忘了，即便是这样的工作，我也要首先被引荐给某个可敬的出版商才行，但我没有获得引荐的途径。说实话，我也从没有产生过用文学上的劳动作为自己获取利润的想法。所以我能想出来的就是：我只能依靠自己未来的权利主张和继承遗产的期望来迅速获得钱财帮助，除此以外，别无他法。我绞尽脑汁地实现这一途径，最后我向一个叫D什么的犹太人[3]提出了资助申请。

我向这个犹太人和其他几个打广告的高利贷商人（我觉得其中几个也是犹太人）做了自我介绍，并说明了我的贷款预期额，他们之前已经在律师公会那里查到我父亲的遗嘱，并确定了遗嘱的真实性。遗嘱当中被称为某某的那个次子的情况，与我所声称的内容完全符合（或者说包含了我所声称的内容），但从那些犹太人的脸上能够很明显地看出，他们还是有一个疑问——我是那个次子吗？这是一个我从来没有想到会成为问题的问题。每当我的这些犹太朋友用犀利的目光审视我时，我都担心自己的身份暴露得太多，担心他们心里正在酝酿着如何引诱我进入陷阱然后把我卖给我的那些监护人。我发现自己——物质意义上的自我（我之所以这样措词，是因为我喜欢在逻辑上精确地区分它们）在掩盖一个真正的自我——形态上的自我，并因此受到了良心的谴责，或者至少是受到了质疑。然而，为了打消他们的顾虑，我想到了一个我能想出的唯一办法。我在威尔士的时候，收到过一些年轻朋友写给我的信件，我把它们都拿了出来，其实我一直都把它们带在身上。而到这个时候，可以说，它们是我身上剩下来的仅有的一点儿家当了（除了我穿的衣服以外），之前我还没来得及以这样或那样的方式把它们处理掉。这些信件大部分来自伊顿的某某伯爵，他是我那个时候最要好的（或者说唯一的）朋友。还有一些信件是来自某某侯爵，他是那位伯爵的父亲。这位伯爵虽然现在只是潜心务农，但他本人当年也是伊顿公学的毕业生，可以说有着学者的内涵和贵族的风范，对古典文学和青年学者仍然保留着深厚的感情。所以，从我十五岁那年，他就一直与我保持信件往来。他会在信中告诉我他最近一段时间取得的或者正在考虑取得的重大进步。信件都是寄往M和S1两个城市的，因为我曾在那里呆过一段时间。在信中他有时会谈论某一个拉丁诗人的文字优点；有时还会给我出一些题目，希望我就此写作诗歌。

读过这些信件之后，其中一个犹太朋友同意，以我个人名义担保，提供给我两三百镑的借款，但前提是我要说服那位年轻的伯爵——顺便说一句，他并不比我年长——能够保证在将来把这笔钱还清。现在想想，这个犹太人这样要求我的最终目的，大概并不是他可能从中获得对他而言微不足道的利润，而是想通过我与我的这位贵族朋友建立起一种关系，他知道我的这位贵族朋友显然前途远大。为了使犹太人的建议得以实施，我在收到十英镑八九天之后，就准备起身前往伊顿了。我把这十英镑中的三英镑给了我的这位债主朋友，因为据他讲，我离开伦敦期间，他需要为相关的商务公函购买印花，我心里觉得他在撒谎，但是我不想让他为拖延我的事情找到任何借口；还有一小笔钱，我给了我的律师朋友（这位律师一直与我的债主们保持联系，为他们工作），因为他的处所还需要添置些家具；另外我又花了十五先令，用来置办自己的着装（虽然很寒酸）；而余下的钱的四分之一，我给了安，并且打算在我回来以后，把我剩下的无论多少钱都和她平分。把这些都安排好之后，在那个黑暗的冬日傍晚，六点钟刚过一点儿，我就在安的陪伴下，朝着皮卡迪利大街出发了，因为我想搭乘开往巴斯或者布里斯托尔的邮政运输车到盐山去。沿途经过城镇的一个地方，我记得当时被人们叫作燕子街，如今已经消失得无影无踪，我再也找不到它旧时的地理界限了。时间还算充裕，于是我们左转来到黄金广场，坐了下来，因为我们不想在皮卡迪利大街的喧嚣骚动与灯火辉煌中告别彼此。我以前就跟她提起过我的计划，现在只是再次向她保证如果将来交到好运，我一定会与她一起分享。

等到一旦有足够的能力来保护她，我绝不会抛弃她。这是我十分想做的事情，不论出于我的个人意愿，还是一种责任感。且把感激之情放在一边不说——这份情谊我一辈子也还不起她，就说我对她自然而然的那份亲情也相当深厚，我一直把她当作自己的妹妹看待。而此刻，我看到她极度沮丧，心中又不免生出无限的款款柔情。我其实才最应该感到难过，因为我即将和我的救命恩人分别，但想想身体前一段时间曾遭受过那样的打击都坚持过来了，我还是很乐观，心中充满了希望。而她却正好与我相反，知道即将和我这样一个除了能给她些友好的善意和兄弟般的情感以外对她毫无用处的人分别，内心充满了伤感，以至于在最后我和她吻别的那一刻，她竟然抱住了我的脖子，一句话也说不出来，只是哀伤地啜泣着。我希望最慢能在一周之内返回。我和她约定从我离开的第五天晚上开始，以后每天晚上六点钟左右，她都要到蒂奇菲尔德大街的尽头等我，可以说，那里是我们经常约会见面的避风港，这样我们就不会在牛津大街的汪洋大海中彼此失散了。这个和类似的其他预防失散的措施我都已经提前想好了，只有一件事我忘记了（我当时没觉得有什么重要的），她从没有告诉过我她的姓氏。实际上，在当时，有着像她那样不幸身世的女孩子通常是不会（像举止做作的上层社会那些手中不离小说的妇人那样）称呼自己为道格拉斯小姐、蒙塔古小姐等的。她们一般只会使用教名称呼自己，比如：玛丽、简、弗朗西斯等。她的姓氏，作为我能再找到她的最可靠的信息，我当时的确应该问清楚。但事实却是我觉得没有理由认为我们的再次会面，会因为短暂的分离，比从前的几周更加艰难和不确定，所以我几乎从没有想过这个问题的必要性有多大，也没有把它放在临别与她见面时要做的事项中。剩下的时间，我都用来安慰她，给她希望，敦促她去买些药，她咳得很严重，嗓音也很嘶哑，她的身体已经开始不太好了。所以我完全没想起来要问她的姓氏，直到后来追悔莫及。

走到格洛斯特的咖啡厅门前，已经过了八点钟，开往布里斯托尔的邮政车[4]已经待发。我爬到车顶部，车身优雅而流畅的运动让我很快就睡着了。值得一提的是，好几个月来，我第一次睡的提神的好觉，竟然是在一辆邮政车的车顶！这张床，如今再睡起来会觉得那样不舒适。说到这次睡眠，还要插进一个小小的事件。这件事，像当时发生的很多其他事情一样，让我意识到，一个从没有经历过苦难和不幸的人，即使走完一生，也不会理解人性中可能包含的善良，也不会理解——我不得已要叹口气了——其中可能包含的邪恶，起码在他自己身上是这样。一层礼貌的帷帐遮掩了人的天性，其真正的容貌和表情都不能为人所见。对于普通的观察者来说，两个极端，以及在这两个极端之间的各种各样的人性表现，都是混淆不清的。各种各样的表现因为调和在一起，之间的区分就像音阶音域和字母集合那样模糊不清。这件事情是这样的，在离开伦敦四五英里的时候，我的身体偶尔会撞到我旁边的同路人，因为车子不时地向他那边倾斜，这让他觉得很恼火。的确，如果路况比当时还要糟糕，更加不平坦的话，我可能都会因为身体羸弱而滚下车去。他开始因为我的侵扰而满口的抱怨，就像其他人在相似的情况下也会做出的那样。但是他的抱怨似乎有些过了火，他变得异常烦躁和闷闷不乐。如果就在那一刻和他分别的话，我可能会认为他（如果我觉得值得对他做一番评价的话）是一个无礼甚至野蛮的家伙。然而，我觉得他的抱怨也不无道理，因此我向他道了歉，而且向他保证，我会尽最大努力在剩下的路途上保持清醒；同时，我也尽可能言简意赅地向他做了解释，告诉他我患有疾病，而且因为长期的苦难折磨身体十分虚弱，又因为当时没有支付能力，所以买不起车内的坐票。这一席话过后，这个人的态度立即发生了变化。等我在豪恩斯洛城的喧嚣和强光中再次醒来的时候（尽管我努力不让自己睡着，但我还是在对他说完那番话之后不到两分钟就又一次睡着了），我发现，他正在用手臂围住我的身体，以防我滚下车去。在剩下的路程里，他简直是在用一个女人的温柔来对待我，以至于最终，可以说我几乎是躺在他怀抱里的。在他并不知道我要去的地方是巴斯或者布里斯托尔的情况下，他给我的关怀就更加感人了。但不幸的是，我坐过了站，到了比我的目的地更远的地方。那是舒舒服服的一大觉，我的精力和体力都得到了很大程度的恢复。离开豪恩斯洛之后，我再醒来是因为邮政车的突然刹车（可能是停在了某个邮局前面）。我一问才知道，我们已经到达了梅登海德，过了盐山大概六七公里了。就在这里，我下了车。在邮政车停留的半分钟里，我那位友善的同伴（在皮卡迪利，从我当时对他的一瞥判断，他很有可能是某个绅士的男管家或者具有类似的身世背景）一再恳求我一定马上找个地方睡一觉。我答应他，虽然我并没有真的打算这样做。实际上，我一刻不停地就步行启程前进，或者不如说是倒退，向着相反方向出发了。当时可能已经接近午夜，但我的行进如此缓慢，还没有从斯劳那条路转向伊顿的时候，就听见附近村舍里的钟声已经敲响了四点。新鲜的空气和充足的睡眠都有助于我恢复精神，但是我依旧感到疲乏。这时我想起来一件事情（一个罗马诗人巧妙地讲述过，表达也足够清楚），这件事情让当时处于贫困中的我得到了些许安慰。从前，在霍恩斯洛的荒原或者附近地区，发生过一起凶杀案。被害人的名字，我想我应该记得很清楚，他叫斯蒂尔，是附近一个薰衣草种植园主。我每走一步，就会越接近那片荒原区。这很自然地让我想到，我和那个被控告的谋杀者——假如他当时正巧也在外面，在黑暗中，可能每一刻都在不知不觉中靠近彼此。在这种情况下，假设我不是（实际上就是）和流浪汉状况相差无几的话——

我只是自己学识的主人，而没有一寸土地，

而是像我的某某勋爵朋友，众所周知的每年有七万英镑收入的继承人的话，此时此刻我该是多么担心我的小命啊！话又说回来，某某勋爵也绝不可能置身于我现在的处境。不过那句话暗含的道理是对的——巨大的权力和财富会使一个人可耻地害怕死亡。而且我相信，那些最为勇敢的冒险者，能充分地享受本性赋予他们的勇气，也不过是因为他们很幸运地都是穷光蛋。假如就在他们要采取英勇行动的那一刻，被告知自己将要在英格兰继承价值五万英镑的不动产，他们对枪林弹雨、打打杀杀的生活的厌恶感会突然变得非常强烈，同时他们试图保持镇定平静和泰然自若的努力也会随之变得异常艰难[5]。曾有一位通过自己的经历熟悉这两种财富的智者，说过一段话，他的话千真万确。他说财富更会——

使美德准绳变得松弛，使其锋芒不再锐利，

而不是引导她做值得称赞的事情。

（引自《复乐园》）

我在这里漫不经心地谈及这些，因为回忆这些东西，对我来说，是极其有趣的一件事情。但我的读者没有理由再因此抱怨了，因为我马上就会给它画上一个句号。在斯劳和伊顿之间的路上，我睡着了。就在黎明的第一缕阳光洒下来的时候，我被一个人的声音叫醒了，他正站在我身边，俯身审视我。我不知道他是什么人，他长相有几分邪恶，但这不一定意味着他就是一个心怀鬼胎的人。即使他果然居心叵测，我想他也会判断出：像我这样一个在大冬天睡在户外的人，是不值得一抢的。关于这个从我身上得出的结论，我其实现在想对他说，如果他也恰巧是我的一位读者的话，他当时的判断是错误的。这个人只嘟囔了一句，就从我身边走过去了。我也并没有因为他的打扰而感到愠怒，要不是他把我弄醒了，我还不能在大部分人都醒来之前穿过伊顿呢。前一天晚上天色本来就阴沉昏暗，快到清晨的时候，下了一层薄薄的霜，地面和树木上都呈现出一片雾凇景象。我悄悄溜过伊顿，没有人注意到我。然后我在温莎的一家小客栈稍作停留，洗漱一番，又尽可能地整理了一下衣着。大约八点钟，我就朝着波特出发了。在路上，我遇到了几个低年级的学生，我询问了他们。伊顿人总是那么温文尔雅，虽然衣衫破旧，他们还是很有礼貌地回答了我。我的朋友，某某勋爵，去了某某大学。“Ibi omnis effuses labor！”（“这样所有的奔波和辛苦就都成了徒劳！”）还好，我在伊顿还有其他一些朋友。但是一个深陷困境的人，并不愿意去拜访所有他认识的有钱人。我在心里回想了一下我认识的人，最后决定向D伯爵寻求帮助。我在任何情况下都不会羞于和这个人（虽然我跟他的私交不像与有些人那样亲密）见面。他人还在伊顿，虽然我知道他已经要动身前往剑桥了。我去拜访了他，受到了亲切的款待，还被邀请共进早餐。

在这里我要稍微打断一下，以防读者对我产生一些误解。因为我在前文曾偶尔顺带地提过一些我的所谓贵族朋友，这里一定要澄清的是我并不是要以此来把自己包装成一个身世显赫或者血统高贵的人。感谢上帝，我也并不属于这类人群。我是一个普通英国商人的儿子，他的一生因为人正直而受到尊重，而且喜好文学并有所追求（的确，他本人就是一位匿名作者）。如果他还活着的话，他一定会非常有钱，但却英年早逝，仅留下大概三万英镑的遗产，还要被分作七份继承。至于我的母亲，我应该带着荣幸和尊敬提及几句，她的天分其实更高。虽然我谦逊地不想给她“文学女性”这个荣誉称号，但至少可以把她定义为“知识女性”。我相信，如果有一天，她的书信能被收集起来得以出版的话，读者一定能够感受到这些文字展现出的坚实的力度和男子汉的气魄。这些书信行文通篇使用的都是纯正的“英语母语”，生动、鲜活又不失传统和优雅，几乎可以与任何用母语写文章的文人媲美，甚至不逊于W. M. 蒙塔古女士。这些就是我的出身和血统能给我的全部荣耀，再无其他。我真诚地感谢上帝，我再没有其他荣耀了，因为在我看来，如果一个人的地位太过明显地高于他的同族，并不利于他形成良好的道德品性，也不利于他运用自己的知识才能。

这位D老爷，在我面前摆出一桌非常丰盛的早餐，真的是非常丰盛。这是我几个月来坐下吃的第一顿正餐，也是几个月来第一次坐在“有教养的人的餐桌上”，所以在我眼里，这顿早餐比实际上还要丰盛三倍。但是，很奇怪的是，我几乎吃不下什么东西。记得之前那天，当我刚刚收到十英镑的钞票时，就马上去了一家面包店，买了几个面包卷。就在那两个月或六周以前，我曾经带着渴望的眼神窥探过这家面包店，那种强烈渴望的眼神我自己现在回忆起来都觉得是一种耻辱。拿到面包以后，我想起了奥特维的故事，担心如果吃得太快会招致危险。但很快我发现自己根本不需要有这样的担心，因为我的食欲相当不好，买来的东西还没吃到一半的时候，就开始感到恶心。这种反应也适用于其他时间的进食。一连几周的时间，我看见食物就有这样的反应。或者，即便我没有感到恶心，吃下去一部分东西之后，也会吐出来，吐的时候还会带出酸水；或者刚吃的东西马上就吐出来了，不带酸水。再回到刚才的叙述，在D老爷的餐桌上，我发现自己的胃口并不比平时好多少，看着这些奢侈昂贵的食物，我并没有什么食欲。然而，可恶的是，我总是在类似的场合下极度渴望能有一杯酒喝。因此我向D老爷解释了自己的身体状况，也简要地告诉了他我最近一段时间所遭受的苦难。他对此深表同情，然后为我要了一杯酒。这杯酒瞬间给了我安慰和满足。我这个人不分场合，只要逮住机会，都要喝一点儿酒。我当时对酒是一种崇拜的态度，就像我后来崇拜鸦片一样。但是，我心里仍然清楚，对酒精的纵情只会使我的病情愈加严重，胃部的反馈已经在提示：我的食欲很差。但是在一种更好的物质的帮助下，它又可能很快而且很有效地得以恢复。我希望自己不是因为贪恋酒精才逗留在伊顿，赖在我的朋友这儿不走的。我试图说服自己，我之所以逗留在这里，是因为我不好意思张口向这位D老爷提出我的要求，因为我意识到自己实在没有足够的权利来请求他向我提供我所需要的帮助，而这正是我来伊顿的主要目的。但我当然也不想白白跑这么远的路，于是我最后还是开口了。这位D老爷善良的心胸可谓宽广博大，我之所以有这样的感受，是因为他并没有对我是否具有直接提出要求的权利和资质进行严格的审查，而是对我的处境表示了深切的同情，同时他也知道我与他的一些亲戚熟识。即便这样，他还是在我提出要求后，迟疑了。他对我坦言，他不喜欢与高利贷商人有任何交易来往，担心这样的交易会传到与他有关联的人的耳朵里。另外，他也担心，他的签名所能预期支付的款额——这个数额要比某某的低得多，是否可能惠及我的一些非基督教朋友们。但是，他还是不想彻底拒绝我而使我蒙受羞辱，所以在考虑了一会儿之后，他答应我，如果能满足他的一些条件，我可以拿到他的保证金。D老爷，当时应该不超过十八岁，在那种场合下，他显现出的明智的判断力和小心谨慎的态度，与他温文尔雅的姿态（他的温文尔雅更多地缘自年轻人的真诚）融合在一起，让我如今每每回忆起来，都在想：即便是最老道的、外交上取得最高成就的政治家，在类似场合下，也未必能表现得比他更为出色。的确如此，大多数人面临这样的问题时，都难免会像撒拉森人一样用严苛、充满恶意的表情来审视你。

得到他的许诺，我心里感到一些宽慰，虽然这并不是最好的结果，但总比我能想象出的最差的结果要好一些。于是我乘坐前往温莎的车子在三天后返回了伦敦。现在我要给这段故事画一个句号了：那些犹太人不同意D老爷的条件，到底是他们要等到最后一刻才同意接受那些条件，还是他们在寻找合适的时机来做适当的询问，就不得而知了。这件事情耽搁了很久，时间一天一天过去，我仅有的钞票也零零散散地快用尽了。在找到办法解决这个问题之前，我又不得不再次沦落到先前的悲惨境地。就在这样的危急时刻，几乎是很意外地，出现了一个与我的朋友和解的机会。我于是匆匆离开了伦敦，来到英格兰一个偏远的地方。一段时间以后，我进入了大学。过了许多个月之后，我才重新有能力旧地重游，回到了让我青年时代受苦受难的主要地点，我当时觉得对这个地方很感兴趣，直到今天也仍然是这样。

那么，可怜的安怎样了呢？我这一部分的结束语将全部用来写她。根据我们当时的约定，只要我身在伦敦，每天晚上都会到提挈菲尔德大街的拐角处等她、找她。我向每一个可能知道她下落的人打听她的消息，在我停留在伦敦的最后时日里，我用尽自己对伦敦所了解的全部信息，同时最大程度地发挥我有限的能力，通过各种途径追踪她的下落。她曾住过的街道的名字我知道，但是具体是哪所房子，我就不知道了。我最后想起她曾经向我提起过她的房东一度对她实施虐待，这样，她也有可能在我们分别之前就从那个房子搬走了。她几乎没有什么朋友。大部分人认为，我打听她下落的态度是如此诚挚，动机无非是想用这样的行动来打动他们女儿的心，或者索取他们些微的注意。还有些人认为我是在追踪一个抢过我一些不值钱的东西的女孩子，也就自然情有可原地不愿透漏给我任何线索——即使他们知道的话。最后，我实在没有其他选择了，在我离开伦敦的那一天，我把某某郡某某地方的地址——当时是我家人所在的地址，交到了一个我确信见了安一定会认出她的人手上。这个人以前曾有一两次和我们在一起过。但到今天为止，我还是没有得到安的一丝音讯。这件事，就像大部分人一生中遇到的类似烦恼一样，一直是让我最受折磨的。如果她还活着，毫无疑问我们肯定有的时候是在伦敦这个偌大的迷宫里互相寻找着，可能就在同一时刻。甚至在伦敦街道上，被一个不宽的障碍物相隔，只有几英尺的距离，却终于永远分离，不得相见。在过去的那些岁月里，有一段时间，我特别希望她还活在世上。可以说，那时候每次去伦敦，我都要浏览无数女人的脸，看能不能再遇见她。我想，我在这里用“无数”这个词，是真实的、不带修辞的用法，不含夸张。如果我看见她，就一定能够在第一时间一下认出她来。她长得虽然不漂亮，但脸上总是有一种甜美的表情，头部也总是保持着一种特别而优雅的姿势。

那些年，我一直在找寻她——就像我说过的——带着希望。但是现在，我却害怕见到她。她的咳嗽，在我与她分别的时候，是那样地让我难过，现在却成了我的慰藉。现在的我再也不想见到她，我更愿意认为她已经在坟墓里，我希望她躺在抹大拉的一个坟墓里。我希望，在她被残忍和伤害毁灭之前，在她单纯率真的本性被扭曲之前，在那些流氓恶棍的粗暴野蛮彻底毁掉她之前，她就被带走了。

【第二部分】

所以说，当时的牛津大街，简直就是一个铁石心肠的继母！听着孤儿的叹息，饮着孩子的眼泪，却无动于衷。我最后终于离开了你！现在我再也不用在痛苦中沿着没有尽头的街道踱步，也不会在睡梦中被饥肠辘辘唤醒，忍受胃部的剧痛了。在我和安之后，肯定有很多的后来人，从那时起踏着我们曾经的足迹，继续过着我们曾经遭受的苦难生活。除了安以外，其他的孤儿也发出叹息。其他的孩子也流泪了，而你，伦敦大街，毫无疑问，从那以后，都在重复回荡着无数心灵的呻吟。对于我来说，在我经受过并最终熬过来的暴风雨之后，是一段很长时间的好天气，这大概是对我所受苦难的补偿吧。我早年间付出的苦难，成为保证我后来岁月安稳的赎金，在很长一段时间里我再也没有遭遇悲伤。如果我再次走在伦敦大街上，孤独着，沉思着（就像平时那样），大部分时间里，内心却是从容平静的。我在伦敦所受的灾难与不幸已经深深地植入到我的肉体里，以至于它们在我后来的岁月里总会在心里突然生长出来，再一次枝繁叶茂，形成一个讨厌的树荫，这个树荫使我后来的人生因此而昏暗失色。但是这种苦难的第二次袭击，遭遇到的是更加坚毅的不屈不挠，是一个更成熟的知识分子的思想谋略，而我向别人施与同情而得到的慰藉，却变得那样深厚和温柔。

不过，无论有什么样的慰藉，过去那些碎片一样散落的年月，总是会被从同一根源生出的苦难——这个隐晦的锁链——给绑在一起。在这里，我注意到人类欲望缺乏远见的一个实例。记得我当初凄惨地委身于伦敦大街的那段时间，时常在有月光的夜晚，沿着牛津大街向每一条延伸出去、连绵不断的林荫道凝视着，这些林荫道穿过马里博恩的心脏地带，直接进入了田间和树林里。这样的凝视能给我很大的心理慰藉。我的眼睛随着这些狭长的街景游走，看见它们部分在灯光下部分在阴影里，我说道“这就是通往北方的那条路，也就是通往某某地方的那条路。如果我有鸽子一般的羽翼，我就会朝那里飞去，寻找慰藉。”我就这样说着，也盲目地希望着。然而，我苦难岁月的第二次来临，就是在我所期冀的那个北方地区，就在那个山谷，甚至就在我错误的愿望所期冀的那所房子里。苦难再一次发出威胁，蓄意包围我生命和希望的城堡。很多年，我都被如同萦绕在俄瑞斯忒斯卧榻的那些幽灵一般丑陋而恐怖的幻象困扰着，只是我比他更不幸。睡眠对于所有人，应该是一个休息、恢复体力的过程，尤其对于他，睡眠就像是佑福[6]他受伤的心灵和被鬼魂萦绕的大脑的一剂香膏。而对我来说，睡眠无异于最撕心裂肺的蹂躏。所以说我的心愿是盲目的。如果有一层面纱隔在模糊不清的预见和将要发生的灾难之间，那么这同一块面纱也会把灾难的慰藉物遮挡起来。人们从来没有预料到的悲痛也会和从来没有期冀过的安慰汇聚在一起。因此，可以说，我分担着俄瑞斯忒斯的那些烦恼忧愁（除了他在良心上所受的折磨以外），也同时分享着他曾受到过的精神支撑。我的欧墨尼德斯，和他当时一样，也潜伏在我的床尾，透过窗帘盯着我看。但还有一个人，坐在我的枕边，为了陪伴我度过沉重的夜晚而被剥夺了睡眠，她是我的厄勒克特拉。你，我亲爱的M. ，我晚年岁月亲爱的伴侣，你就是我的厄勒克特拉。你高贵的思想和长期受苦的情感，使得即便是一个希腊女子也无论如何无法赶超一个英国妻子。你经常会不加犹豫地俯下身来谦卑地服侍我，用你最温柔体贴的情感来照顾我[7]——在那些年里，为我擦去病中额头上的汗珠，湿润我因为高烧而烤干的双唇；我的睡梦中依然是与幽灵鬼魂、还有一些似真似幻的敌人搏斗的场面，这经常使我“一夜无眠”，而你因为心疼我，甘愿自己原本安静的睡眠也受到侵扰。就是这样，你也一句抱怨都没有，也没有因此而掩去你天使般的笑容，更没有嫌弃我而置我于不顾。你做的甚至比厄勒克特拉还要好。厄勒克特拉虽然是一个希腊女子，但她是人间帝国之王[8]的女儿，她有的时候也难免会啜泣，掩面于衣袍[9]之中。

但这些烦恼都已成为过去了，你在读到这段让我们都感到忧伤的回忆时，它们已如同那些可怕的噩梦里上演的传奇故事一样，一去不复返。期间，我又回到了伦敦，我又一次在牛津大街的夜晚里踱步。时常，我内心被焦虑所占据，需要动用我所有的人生思想和你的陪伴与支持来获得安慰，但想到我和你相隔三百英里，而且还要等上沉闷单调的三个月才能见面，我就会朝着从牛津大街向北延伸的那些林荫道看去。月夜里，我想起你一个人坐在那个山谷里，现在你已经是十九年前我曾经盲目地心驰神往的那个房子的女主人了。我想，我内心的激动虽然的确很盲目，而且它最近也已经随风飘散了，但这份激动可以追溯到很久以前，而且如果用另一番意义来体会它，就更容易理解了。如果我能再允许自己怀揣童年幼稚的愿望，我还是会凝视着北方，对我自己说：“哦，如果我能长出一对鸽子般的羽翼”，因为我是那样确信你的本性是善良而亲切的，我就一定要加上我早年那句心愿的后半句话，“我会飞向那里，去寻找慰藉”。

————————————————————

[1] 这里可以再增加一个例外，我在正文没有把他加进去，主要是因为这个作家只在青年时代专注于探讨哲学话题，他成年以后的主要精力都放在文艺批评和美术领域了（当然这完全可以被理解和原谅，因为这正是英国思想界的流行趋势）。然而，除了这个原因以外，我还觉得与其说他是一个敏锐的思想家，不如、说他是—个敏感的思考者。另外，真正把握哲学问题，还需要接受过学校的正规教育，而这位作家恰恰在这一点上有所欠缺。他在青年时代没有读过柏拉图（这很可能是他遭遇的不幸使他错失良机），而成年以后又没有读过康德（这就无疑是他本人的主观过错了）。

[2] 我在这里说的不是当今的教授，而且实际上当今的苏格兰教授，我也只认识一个而已。

[3] 顺便提一下，就在十八个月之后，我向同一个犹太人再次申请资助，申请当时是从一所很好的大学发出来的。很幸运，他认真地关注了我的请求。我的需要并不来自对于奢华生活的追求，也不源自年轻人的轻浮浪荡（我的生活习惯和消遣娱乐方式决定了我对奢华和轻浮都很不屑），而是因为我的监护人报复性的不道德行为。当这个人发现他无法阻止我上大学的想法以后，只寄给我上学所必需的津贴额度，即每年一百英镑，除此以外连一个先令都不多给我，这足以说明人类善良的本性已经离他而去。这一点钱，在当时，是不可能维持一个人在大学的花销的。而对于一个佯装不在意金钱，也没有什么奢侈消费，却过分依赖佣人来生活，也并不喜欢在无足轻重的经济事务上斤斤计较的人来说，这些钱也是不够的。因此，不久以后，我就觉得处境很尴尬，经过一番长篇大论的谈判协商（其中有些谈判的细节，如果我有时间再来回顾讲述的话，一定会让读者们觉得很有意思），在“正规”合同条款约定的前提下，按照每年所供给总贷款额的百分之十七点五付利息给他，这个犹太人才最后答应借给我所请求的金额。而这个犹太人呢，他随后又根据一份律师开出的账单（这份账单到底提供了什么服务，给谁提供了服务，又在什么时间提供的服务，是在围困耶路撒冷——建第二座寺庙的时候呢，还是在更早的我还没有发现的时候，就不得而知了），表示优惠和象征性地只收我应付金额中的九十基尼。这个账单有多长我已经不记得了，但我至今仍把它保留在一个珍藏自然珍品的柜子里，总有一天，我要把它呈递给大英博物馆收藏。

[4] 布里斯托尔邮政车是英国装备最好的邮政车，主要因为它具备两个优势：它走的路线非常好；布里斯托尔的商人们向其提供一笔额外的费用支持。

[5] 这种说法可能船致驳斥，因为历数当今也好，纵观历史也好，很多身世显赫、拥有财富的人，都是在战斗中主动请缨的英雄豪杰。这是事实，但这并非我们这里所讲的情况。因为被其长期占有和熟识，权力对他们已经没有那么大的影响力和吸引力了。

[6] φιλον υпνου θελγητρον, εпιχουρον νοσου.【哦，甜美诱人的睡眠，人在病中最好的帮手】

[7] ησυ σουλευμα.【甜蜜的照料】

[8] αναξ ανσρων' Αγαμεμνων.【阿伽门农，人类之王】

[9] ομμα θειο εισω пεпλων.【用衣袍掩面】学者都会清楚我这一段话描述的是俄瑞斯忒斯一剧的开篇一场。这一场景把亲情展示得如此美丽，堪与欧里庇德斯的戏剧相媲美。而对英国的读者，就有必要解释一下，这部剧一开场的场面是，哥哥被恶魔缠身，良心深受折磨（在神话故事中，他被复仇女神三姐妹所困扰），而且随时都有可能受到敌人的威胁，他的那些名义上的朋友也开始冷淡、疏远他，这时，只有他的妹妹—个人陪伴着他。

鸦片之乐

从我第一次吸食鸦片到现在，已经过去很久很久了。如果那是一件对我一生来说十分微不足道的事情的话，我可能早就忘记那究竟是在哪一天了。但重要的事情是不应该被忘记的。从对与它相关联的一些场景的回忆中，我想起，那是在1804年的秋天。我当时身在伦敦，是我上大学以后第一次来到伦敦，我是这样第一次接触到鸦片的：我在早年就养成了一个习惯，每天至少用冷水冲一次头。有一次，我突然感到一阵牙痛，我想这大概是冷水洗头的习惯偶然中断所引起的，于是我就立刻从床上跳起来，一头扎进一盆冷水里，然后头发也没有擦，湿湿的就睡觉去了。第二天早晨，不用说，我醒来的时候，脑袋和脸上都有那种类似风湿引起的剧痛。接连大概有二十天，这种痛苦都没有缓解。据推算，应该大概是第二十一天早上，一个星期日，我出门来到大街上，与其说是带着什么清楚的目的，不如说是为了逃避疼痛给我的折磨，如果可能的话。偶然间，我遇到了一个大学里的朋友，他向我推荐了鸦片。鸦片！这个给我带来无法想象的快乐和痛苦的药剂。我当时只是以为它和我所知道的甘露或者什么神赐的食物是差不多的东西，再深就不知道了。当时那个单词单纯的发音是多么的没有意义。现在我再听到这个词的时候，它的发音是那样严肃地敲击在我的心灵上！过去那些悲伤和快乐的记忆啊，曾带给我那样惊心动魄的震撼。重新提起这些时，只这几句话，就让我觉得那些和把我第一次带进鸦片这片天堂相关联的，哪怕是看似极其微不足道的场景、地点、时间和人，都值得一提，似乎这具有一种神秘的重要性。那是一个周日的下午，天气潮湿阴郁，在这个地球上，没有比伦敦周日的阴雨更糟糕的天气了。我朝家走着，路上经过牛津大街，在“庄严的万神殿”（华兹华斯先生是这样叫它的）附近，我看见了一家药店。这位药店老板——他没有意识到自己简直是把神仙般的快乐带给人们的使者，也在感叹天气的糟糕，一脸的麻木、迟钝，好像所有人间的药剂师都只能用这种眼神来期待周日的天气了。当我向他要了些鸦片酊剂时，他像任何其他药剂师一样，把它给了我，然后，从我给他的一先令里，又找回我半个便士的硬铜板。我摸到它是很真实的硬硬的感觉，这个铜板也是从一个看得见摸得着的木质抽屉中取出来的。虽然这一切都似乎确实发生在真实的人间，这位药剂师却从此在我心中形成了一个天使般的幻象，仿佛他是被上帝派到人间，带着特殊使命来到我身边的。当我再次来到伦敦的时候，我又在庄严的万神殿附近寻找他，却没有找到，这让我更加肯定了自己对他身份的判断。因此，对于我来说，虽然我不知道他的名字，他似乎更像是从牛津大街上消失了，而不是以肉体迁移的形式搬走了。读者们可能还是会认为他很可能只是尘世间的一个药剂师，事实也可能就是这样的。而我心中的信念更为美好。我认为他是逐渐消逝[1]于这个世界的，或者说就像蒸发了一样。第一次让我结识鸦片的那个时刻，那个地点，和那个上帝造的人，所有这些，我都是那么地不愿意把它们和一切凡间的回忆扯上什么干系。

回到我住的地方后，可以猜得出来，我一刻没有耽误地服下了处方规定的剂量。我对服用鸦片的奥妙和秘密几乎一无所知，而服下去的时候，身体状况还很糟糕。但我还是服下去了。一个小时以后——哦！天哪！那是怎样的巨变啊！内心的灵魂简直从最底层提升到了最高层。我的内心世界又是得到了什么样的启示啊！我的疼痛早已消失，但那已经不再是我关注的重点了。疼痛的消极反应被在我眼前逐渐展开的无限积极的身体感受所吞噬——那种感受就像是突然展现在我面前的神圣享受，我陷于深渊，不能自拔。这其实是一种万能药——一种可以缓解所有人世间悲伤的药（φαρμαиоυυηпευθεζ）。它蕴含着快乐的秘诀，这是哲学家们争论了很多年的问题，却突然被发现在鸦片里。只要花上一个便士，你就立刻可以买到快乐。你可以把这份快乐放在马甲口袋里，也可以把这个让你狂喜的东西随身装在一品脱的小啤酒瓶里，也可以把这个让你心思宁静的东西用邮政车成加仑地运过来。但如果我这样谈论它的话，读者可能会以为我是在开玩笑。我可以肯定地对你们说：没有一个经常和鸦片打交道的人会用一副不严肃的态度谈论它。对这些人而言，鸦片的快乐里面甚至包含着严肃和庄重的复杂成分。他们在最快乐的时刻，也不会表现出“我很快乐”的样子。即使很快乐，说话和思考的时候，仍然会表现出“我在沉思”的状态。但我有一种即便处在悲惨境地也会开玩笑的令人生气的说话方式，除非出现另外一种更强大的感情力量把我抑制住，否则即使是在记录这些苦难或乐事时，我也禁不住会表现出这样不当的言语方式，对此我恐怕得先向读者们致歉了。读者们，你们一定要允许和原谅我在这方面表现的我本性中的不坚定。尽管我可能偶尔纵容自己这一方式，但我还是会尽力表现得严肃——如果不是令人昏昏欲睡的话，这样才适合谈论和鸦片有关的话题。但鸦片却就是那么地不活跃，像人们误传的那样令人昏昏欲睡。

让我先谈一谈鸦片给人的身体带来的影响。迄今为止，关于鸦片的所有书面文字，不论是出于土耳其的旅行者（他们会把撒谎当成是远古权力赋予他们的特权），还是医药学教授——坐在椅子上写东西的人，我只有一个词要大声讲出来批评他们撒谎！撒谎！撒谎！我还记得有一次，我路过一个书摊时瞥到了一个讽刺作家写的书上有一句话“现在，我终于相信，伦敦报纸至少每周会有两次说实话，星期二和星期六，我们基本可以相信这一点，因为上面记录着——破产者的名单。”同样，我也无论如何不会否认，关于鸦片，还是有一些真实的信息传播给世人的。第一，那些有学问的人反复地证实说，鸦片的颜色是暗褐色，这一点，请注意，我认为是对的。第二，他们说鸦片是很昂贵的，这一点我也承认。在我年轻的时候，东印度的鸦片一磅就卖到三基尼，而土耳其的则要八基尼。第三，如果一个人大量服用鸦片的话，他很可能会死亡[2]，而这是正常人最接受不了的事情。这些重要的论点完全正确，我无法反驳，真理在过去是，未来也是，值得称赞的。然而，在这三点命题中，我相信，我们已经穷尽了人类在鸦片这个问题上所能获得的所有知识。因此，尊敬的医生们，既然还有余地发现更多的真理，那么请站在一边，允许我自告奋勇，继续谈一谈这个问题。

首先，并不是所有正式或者偶尔提到鸦片的人都曾亲身体验过，大部分人只是想当然地认为鸦片能够醉人。读者们，请相信我（我甘愿冒此风险），鸦片本身从不曾，也绝不会醉人。至于鸦片的酊剂（一般叫做“鸦片酊”），它有可能醉人，如果你能够承受足够剂量的话。这是因为鸦片酊里面含有标准烈度的酒，而不是因为它里面含有大量的鸦片。但是粗鸦片，我可以完全肯定地告诉你，绝对不会使人产生像酒精作用于身体上的那种类似感觉，不但在程度上不可能，在性质上也是不可能的。它所产生的效果，无论在量上，还是在质上，都是完全不一样的。酒给人的愉悦感是上升的，到达一个转折点之后，它便会逐渐下降；而鸦片给人带来的愉悦感一旦产生，会持续八到十小时。前者，借用一个医学术语来说，是一种“急性”快乐；而后者，则是一种“慢性”快乐。前者是火焰，后者则是平稳的火光。但最重要的区别还在于：酒精干扰人的智力；而鸦片却恰恰相反（如果服用得当的话），会给人带来最精致的秩序与和谐。酒会掠夺人的镇静；而鸦片却能大大地强化它。酒会扰乱、蒙蔽人的判断力，给人以异常的智慧，并且使人的爱与憎、蔑视与钦佩的情感都变得更为激烈：而鸦片，却相反，通过积极或消极的方式，给人所有的感官以宁静和平衡感。至于说到性情和通常讲的道德感，它能赋予人一种有活力的热情，这种热情具有判断力，并且常常带给人一种原始和上古时代的人所具有的自然、单纯的健康状态。因此，鸦片，像酒一样，可以让爱心和仁慈的情感都得到扩张。但是它和酒有显著区别，这就是酒醉所导致的同情心的突然膨胀中，总带有一种让旁观者感到鄙视的伤感成分。人们会深情握手、发誓一生为友、潸然泪下，没有人知道这是为什么，很显然，肉体的人已经是最高级的生物了。而鸦片所带来的良性感觉的扩张不是上面描述的发烧式的体验，而是身体在去除了疼痛所招致的内心深度愤怒之后，重新恢复到心智的自然状态。疼痛曾经打扰了原本正义、友善的心灵，和它产生激烈的碰撞。当然了，甚至是酒，喝到一定量，对于某些人而言，也能提升和稳固人的智力。我本人，虽然酒量不是很大，也曾经感受到，喝下几杯酒，能给感官带来些有益的影响，使我的意识更加敏锐、活跃，我的理智也感到自身的重量得到了平衡。人们常喜欢说，人喝酒时会借机“装疯卖傻”，这个说法当然很荒谬，因为正相反，人通常都是在清醒的时候才伪装自己，而恰恰是在喝酒的时候（就像一些老绅士用希腊文讲的那样），才把真实的自己展现出来（εαντουξ εμφανιζουιν οιτινεξ ειοιν）——展示他们性格的真实面貌。显然，他们在醉酒状态下是无法伪装自己的。但是，酒仍然时常会把一个人推向荒谬和言行放肆的边缘，在超过一个点之后，人的智力能量就会被分散而挥发掉；而鸦片似乎总是能使骚动的情绪趋于镇定，使分散的注意力再度集中。总之，用一句话来概括，一个醉酒的人，或者说一个快醉酒的人，会处于，或者他感觉自己处于，一种特别的状态，这种状态把人的本性，通常是人性中野蛮的一面展现到极致。但是瘾君子（我这里说的是那些不受任何疾病困扰，也没有受到鸦片的远期影响的人）觉得人性中更神圣的一面才是至高无上的。要在平静的状态下道德情感才能得以释怀，雄伟的智力所发出的光芒才能温暖万物。

这是关于鸦片的正教派的学说。而我也承认，我是这一教派的唯一成员——既是创始人，也是最后一人。但是回忆起来，我毕竟是在用我自己长期、深刻的亲身经历来讲述这些的。而那些谈论鸦片却并不谙科学的作者[3]，甚至是那些专门写药物学的人，从他们所表达的对鸦片的恐惧感，就能清楚地看出，他们对鸦片效用的经验和知识基本为零。然而，坦白地说，我承认，我碰见过一个人，他见证了鸦片的醉人效应，这让我都不得不信，因为他是一名外科医生，本人就大量地吸食鸦片。我不经意间跟他提起过他的敌人（我是这样听说的）指控他乱谈政治，而他的朋友则为此替他致歉，并表示他经常处于被鸦片麻醉的状态。我说，这项指控乍看起来不见得一定是无稽之谈，但这位朋友的辩护可就一定是荒诞可笑的了。但让我吃惊的是，他坚持说他的敌人和朋友两个人的话说得都对。“我承认，”他说，“有时候我就是会胡说八道。但接下来我还要澄清，在涉及原则和利益的问题上，我从不会胡说八道。我胡说，仅仅，仅仅（说了三遍不止），是因为我服用鸦片醉了而已。而这种状态，我每天都会有。”我反驳他说，关于他的敌人提出的指控，似乎是建立在相当数量的证据上的，而且所涉三方均无异议，我也就没有理由再质疑什么。但关于他朋友的那番辩护，我不得不提出异议。于是他继续和我讨论这个问题，摆出他的道理。对我来说，假定一个人在自己的职业领域存在错误观念，而我偏偏就此与他辩论，似乎是一件很不礼貌的事情，所以我没有再步步紧逼，虽然他的辩论过程随处可见漏洞，就更别提一个胡话连篇的人，即使辩论。“不涉及利益”，这样的人在争论中也绝不是一个让你感到愉快的对象，无论是作为对手，还是队友。然而，我承认，一个外科医生的权威，尤其是一个享有行业内良好声誉的外科医生，确实对我所产生的成见构成了一定的压力。但我还是一定要为我的亲身经历辩护，这比他每天服用7000滴这一情况更重要。虽然说一个外科医生对酒精麻醉的临床症状不熟悉听起来很难以置信，但我想到了一个问题，就是他也有可能是犯了一个逻辑错误，把“麻醉”这个词放在一个过于宽泛的范围内加以使用了，也就是说他把一般性的所有神经兴奋状态都定义为“麻醉”，而不是把它限定于对具有特定诊断特征的某种特殊兴奋状态的表达。我听说过，有些人会说，他们因为绿茶喝多了而醉。一个就读于伦敦的医学院的学生，他在本专业方面的知识足以让我对他产生敬意，他也曾对我说，有一天，一个病人在病情恢复过后，说是因为吃了太多的牛排而醉了。

说了这么多关于鸦片的第一种也是最主要的一个错误概念之后，我接下来要简要地说说第二个和第三个错误。这两个错误观点认为：在鸦片所导致的精神状态的提升之后，随之而来的便是相应程度的抑郁；鸦片产生的必然而且几乎是即刻的效应就是肉体上和精神上的懒散和呆滞。这两个错误观点中的第一个，我会通过直接的否认而得到满足感。我可以肯定地告诉我的读者，在我间歇服用鸦片的十年之间，每每我允许自己享用这种奢侈品之后的一整天，我的精神总是能保持异常的愉悦。

至于说到人们认为的吸食过鸦片之后随之而来的或者说吸食过程中伴随产生的懒散状态（如果我们相信很多相片里土耳其瘾君子的样子的话），我也明确予以否认。当然，鸦片是被分类在麻醉剂这一名头之下的，它最终也有可能引起某种类似效果。但是吸食鸦片产生的最主要的效果是在最大程度上刺激机体，使其兴奋。在我刚刚开始吸食的时候，它在我身体上发生作用的第一阶段总是会持续八小时以上。所以，如果鸦片吸食者不是把鸦片发挥作用的时间有意放在一个时间段，而让它的作用降临在睡眠时段的话，那就一定是他本人的错误。土耳其的瘾君子，看起来像那些骑马人的塑像一样，坐在和他们一样呆笨的原木上，真是荒诞可笑之极。但是为了让读者们能够了解到鸦片会在何种程度上麻痹一个英国人的感官，我要（对这个问题会以说明性的方式而不是争论性的方式进行）在这里向你们描述一下我在1804—1812年之间在伦敦度过的那些独自一人吸食鸦片的夜晚。你们会明白，至少鸦片没有使我寻求孤独，更没有让我无所事事，或者陷入土耳其人那种自我颓废的呆滞状态。我说这些话是要冒着被看成是一个狂热分子或者幻想家的风险的，但我并不在意。我必须让我的读者们记住：我是一个勤奋的学生，而且我剩下的生命也会致力于严谨的学术研究。当然，和其他人一样，我也有要偶尔休息放松一下的权利。然而，我也只是偶尔允许自己放纵。

已故某某公爵，过去常常会说：“下个星期五，上帝赐福，我打算醉上一回。”而我那个时候也会用类似的方式来提前计划在一段时间内，多长时间以及什么时候可以让自己放纵沉溺于鸦片的享乐之中，一般来说也就三周一次。因为那个时候，我还不敢每天都喝“一杯加了鸦片酊、温热、无糖的尼格斯酒”。不，我还不敢，就像我前面说的那样，我也就三周才喝一次，一般来说是在周二或者周六的晚上，原因我会慢慢讲来。那时候，格拉斯尼在剧院里歌唱，她的嗓音是我听过的最美妙的声音。我不知道现在歌剧院里是什么状况，因为我已经有七八年没去过了。但那个时候，那是伦敦老百姓晚上消磨时光最喜爱的去处。五先令就可以买到顶层楼座，那里比剧院正厅中心部位要安静得多，管弦乐队甜美、悦耳却不失庄严，比英国所有其他管弦乐队都要出众。我得承认，那些英国管弦乐队的作品铿锵响亮的节奏，小提琴所发出的绝对专制的音调，让我的耳朵无法接受。这个歌剧院里的合唱听起来美妙神圣。当格拉斯尼像往常一样，扮演着安德洛玛刻，在幕间插曲中展开歌喉，用她那充满激情的灵魂在赫克托耳的坟墓前倾诉衷肠时，我就会想，那些曾经享受过鸦片那天堂般快乐的土耳其瘾君子，他们当中是否能有一个经历过我当时所享受到的美妙的一半。但是，我的确高估了那些野蛮人，以为他们也能够同样理解和欣赏英国人所青睐的知性娱乐。因为音乐可以成为一种知性的快乐，也可以成为一种感官的快乐，这完全取决于听者本人的性情。顺便说一句，除了在《第十二夜》里有关于音乐主题的一些狂文之外，在全部谈及音乐的文学作品中，我就只记得一段话，在这个主题上表达得如此充分到位，它在T. 布朗的《一个医生的宗教信仰》[4]中。这段话以高尚而著称，也不乏哲学价值，在某种程度上它甚至成为评价音乐效果的真正理论。大多数人错误地认为，他们是用耳朵来与音乐进行交流的，因此他们也往往是在被动地接受音乐。但事实不是这样。音乐之所以能够构建愉悦感，完全是因为耳朵接收到信号后引起了思维的感应（即通过感官传递，通过思维形成）。这也是很多人虽然听力一样，获得的享乐感却千差万别的原因。现在我们来说鸦片。鸦片普遍提升人的思维活动，也一定会提升某一种特定的思维活动，而这种活动恰恰能够从器官发声的原材料中构建出一份颇为精致的知性快乐。但是，我的一位朋友说，音乐音符连续在一起，对他来说，就像是一堆阿拉伯文字，他无法赋予它们任何意义。意义！我亲爱的先生！你根本就不需要赋予它们什么意义。所有在这类场合能够称得上意义的东西，都是通过能够代表感情的语言来表达的。但这是和我当前目的无关的一个话题。一段精致和谐的合唱，就像一块挂毯一样，在我面前展示出我自己所有的过去，但不是通过回忆，而是在音乐中化身出现的。在音乐中，你不需要再沉浸在悲伤中，那些过去的细节都消失于或者说混杂在朦胧而令你出神的音乐中了。过去生活中的大喜大悲在其中都得到了提升、净化和升华。所有这些享受，我只需花上五先令就能得到。除了舞台上和管弦乐队的音乐之外，在表演的间歇时段，意大利女人们用意大利语说话的声音就像是音乐一般，总是萦绕在我的耳边。顶层的楼座里总是挤满了意大利人，而我就像旅行者维尔德当年在加拿大，躺在那儿聆听印度女人甜美的笑声一样，我也带着愉快的心情在听这些意大利女人的谈话。通常来说，你对一种语言懂得越少，你对这种语言的悦耳和刺耳的音质就体会得越敏锐。所以就这一观点来说，这些反而成为了一种优势。因为我本人是一个对意大利语知之甚少的学者，我阅读过一些意大利语，但是很少，我从来也不说意大利语，而对于听到的意大利语，我连十分之一都听不明白。

这些就是我从歌剧院得到的快乐，而另外一种只能在某些星期六的晚上才能得到的享乐，偶尔会与我对歌剧院的爱好发生冲突。因为那时候，星期二和星期六通常都是歌剧院的演出日。在这个话题上，恐怕我会写得相当含糊晦涩，但我可以向我的读者们保证，无论如何也没有马里努斯在普罗克洛斯传记作品中的文字那样含糊其辞，也没有其他享有盛誉的传记作者或者自传作者的文字那么晦涩。这种享乐，就像之前说过的那样，只有在某些星期六才能得到。那么为什么星期六的晚上对我的意义要比其他日子的夜晚更大呢？因为在周六晚上，我不需要像其他人一样停下手头工作，也没有工资可领，那还有什么比去歌剧听格拉斯尼的演唱对我更有吸引力呢？是的，运用逻辑思维的读者朋友们，你们说的对，这个问题无法回答。实际上，过去是，现在也是这样，不同的人会找来不同的渠道投入情感，但大部分人还是倾向于把兴趣放在关注穷人上，通过这样或那样的方式对他们的痛苦和悲伤表示同情。而当时，我主要想关注他们的快乐。穷人们的痛苦我最近见得实在是太多了，多得我想忘记都忘不掉，而穷人们的快乐，他们精神上得到的安慰，身体劳累之后的休息，想起来总不会令人难过。对于穷人来说，星期六晚上就是他们主要的、规律的和定期的休息时间。在这一点上，互相敌视的宗派也会联合起来达成一致，认为它是联络兄弟友谊的一个不错的时机。基督教徒在这一天都会放下工作，它是另一个休息日的前奏。这一个白天两个晚上把人们从劳作中暂时解脱出来。因此，在星期六晚上，我总是感觉自己从某种劳作的枷锁中被释放出来了，有工资可以领了，可以舒舒服服地休息享受一下了。所以，为了尽可能多地见证那些让我充满同情心的景象，我经常不计较方向和路程远近，在星期六晚上吸食完鸦片后四处游荡，走遍所有的市场和伦敦其他穷人们会把挣来的工资花掉的地方。很多家庭聚在一起，男人、男人的妻子和他们的一两个孩子，他们站在那里谈论着生计、财源和家里那些物件的价钱。渐渐地，我开始了解他们的愿望、困难和想法，有时候也会从他们那里听到一些不满的抱怨，但写在他们脸上或者从他们口中听到的更多的是耐心、期望和平静。必须承认，总的来说，至少在这一点上，穷人比富人豁达得多。面对自己认为的无可补救的厄运和无法挽回的损失，他们更容易接受事实，更乐观地屈服于命运。每当我看到这样的场合，或者在不打扰他们的情况下加入谈话时，我总是会和他们聊上几句，谈谈我对事情的看法。如果说我的那些意见不总是明智的话，起码也总是会受到他们宽容的欢迎。如果工资涨了，或者有预期会涨，如果面包降价了，或者听说洋葱和黄油会降价，我都会感到高兴；反之，我就会吸鸦片来慰藉自己。因为鸦片（就像不加分别地从玫瑰花和烟囱的煤烟灰里提取酿蜜原料的蜜蜂一样）能够用一把万能钥匙收服人所有的感觉。这样的漫步有时会把我带到很远的地方去，因为瘾君子常常会快乐到忘记时间的脚步。有时，我企图往家的方向返回时，会按照航海原则，先把视线定位在北极星上，接下来，我不会像出海航行时那样绕过所有的海角或者海岬，故意使航程加倍，而是充满信心地去寻找一条西北方向的快捷通道。但我经常会遇到错综复杂的小巷、神秘莫测的入口、迷宫一般的街道，不能通到大路上去。我猜想，这些东西会让那些有经验的脚夫和马车夫也感到疑惑不已、望而却步。甚至，我有时会非常确定自己是这些无名道路的第一个发现者，同时我也怀疑，它们是否在伦敦的现代地图里留下过标记。我的梦中会不断地出现这些人的面孔，他们让我在那久远的岁月里付出了沉重的代价。我在伦敦街道上留下的那些让我困惑的脚步也会悄然重现，侵扰我的睡眠。我在道德上和智力上因此备感困惑，我的理智因此陷入了混乱，我的良心也随即陷入了痛苦和懊悔。

到这里，我已经说明白了，鸦片不一定会让人懒散迟缓，而正相反，鸦片带我走进了市场和剧院这样热闹的地方。但是坦白地说，当瘾君子享受在鸦片带给他们的最神圣的境界时，市场和剧院其实并不是适合他们出没的地方。在那种状态下，人群聚集的地方会对他们形成压力，甚至音乐都会显得世俗和粗劣。这个时候的瘾君子会自然而然地寻求安静和独处，因为安静和独处是让人陷入神情恍惚乃至最深邃的幻想状态所不可缺少的条件，而神情恍惚和深邃幻想正是鸦片能把人带入的至善至极的境界。我这个人的毛病是冥想的太多，而观察的太少。从一进大学校门起，因为时常回忆起在伦敦亲眼目睹的那些苦难人生，我几乎一下子就陷入了深深的忧郁和哀伤，我也足够清醒地意识到我实际上很希望尽自己所能来与这种情绪抗衡。的确，就像久远的神话故事里讲的，我是进入到了脱劳夫尼厄斯洞穴里的一个人。我解决这一问题的对策就是强迫自己走进社会、走进人群，让自己的脑袋始终不停地思考一些科学问题。要不是因为找到了这样的解决办法，我可能早就像息了抑郁症一样忧愁、沮丧了。在之后的几年，当轻松快乐的心情有所恢复时，我就又重新回到我本性所喜爱的独处生活。那时，我经常会在吸鸦片时陷入这样的幻想状态。曾经不止一次，在夏日的夜晚，我坐在一扇开着的窗子旁边，从房间我能够俯视到一英里以外的大海，也能看到大概同样距离之外伟大的L城。我就坐在那里，从日落坐到日出，一动不动，也不想动。

我可能会被指责具有神秘主义、伯麦主义以及寂静主义的倾向，但指责不会让我感到慌乱。年轻的H. 维恩爵士是我们当中最博学的人之一，让我的读者们来看看他的哲学著作是不是有我一半的清楚明了。我时常会突然意识到，这个景象本身就是幻想状态中呈现出的典型映像。L城代表着地球，它的悲伤和坟墓渐渐远去，还没有完全消失，也没有被人们彻底地忘却。永无休止地荡漾着的大海，被笼罩在和平鸽一般的宁静中，似乎可以恰当地代表当时正在摇摆的精神和情绪。在我看来，那时，我似乎第一次从生活中跳了出来，得以从远处审视一切。我远离了生活中的纷纷扰扰，仿佛那些喧嚣、狂热、争斗都暂停下来。这是自己从内心深处不为人知的负担中解脱出来的一种舒缓，一种安息日才可以得到的休息，停止劳作后的安歇。其中既有生活道路上鲜花盛开时绽放出的希望，也有死亡带来的平静和安宁。思维的运动就像宇宙的一样不知疲惫，并对所有的不安和焦虑都报以安宁和镇静，但这样的宁静并不是因为迟钝和惰性，而是两种同样强大的力量对抗的结果：无限的运动和无限的安宁。

噢！公正、微妙、强大的鸦片！它对穷人和富人一视同仁，能为他们身上永远无法愈合的伤口、“意志也无法抵御的疼痛“带来止痛的香脂。雄辩的鸦片！你用有力的言辞让愤怒失去攻击目标，使心中有罪的人在一夜之间重新燃起年轻时的希望，悬崖勒马，金盆洗手，使骄傲的人暂时撇下那些

没有平反的冤情和没有雪耻的侮辱。

为了使受难的无辜者重获清白，为了把作假证的证人传唤到梦境中的法庭，为了驳倒那些谎言伪证，把不正直的法官做出的判决纠正过来，你在黑暗的怀抱中，通过大脑美妙的臆想，构建了城市和神殿，其工艺远远超过菲狄亚斯和普拉克西特利斯的作品，超过巴比伦和希卡托比罗斯。那些被埋葬多年的美人和亡故多年的被佑福的家人的面孔，“洗刷掉坟墓的耻辱”之后，都得以“从混乱无序的睡梦中”被召回到青天白日之下。你把这样的礼物送给人类，你掌握着伊甸园的钥匙。噢！公正、微妙、强大的鸦片！

————————————————————

[1] 逐渐消逝——在17世纪，这种走下人生舞台的方式是为人们所知的，但在那个年代，这是出身高贵的人才能享受到的一份特殊待遇，一个药剂师是绝没有资格享用的。在大概1686年，有一个诗人，他的名字听起来有点不吉利（顺便说一句，他为人也确如其名），他叫弗拉特曼。在谈及查尔斯二世的去世时，他对此表示很惊讶，因为像王子这样的人怎么会做出死亡这样荒谬的事情，因为他说——

国王应该不屑于死去，而是选择慢慢的“消逝”。

他们应该“潜身”，就是说，到另一个世界去。

[2] 但是，关于这一点，最近我发现有学问的人似乎发出过质疑：我曾经在一个当时正为自己身体健康而阅读的农夫妻子手中看到过一本盗版的巴肯写的《家庭医药》。书中医生“特别提示：一次服用鸦片酊的剂量绝不可以超过25盎司”。但正版书中写到的剂量似乎应该是25滴，也就是大概一格令粗鸦片。

[3] 在大批的旅行者中间，有一些人的愚蠢足够清楚地表明，他们根本就没有接触过鸦片。我必须提醒读者们特别注意《安娜斯塔斯雅思》这位聪明的作者。这位绅士试图用自己的智慧引导读者推测他是一个瘾君子。但他在第一卷第215—217页对鸦片产生效应的严重歪曲已经让人不可能相信他曾吸食过鸦片——连作者本人也会这样认为的。除了我一直坚持的那些他所犯的极端严重的错误以外，他自己都会承认，—个“花白胡子”的老绅士吃过“足够量的鸦片”之后，还能给出吸食鸦片会带来恶果这样在人们看来非常重要的建议，说鸦片或者会让人死于非命，或者会最终他们送进精神病院，这看来也只不过是一条无关紧要的证据。但在我看来，我是这样理解这位老绅士和他的动机的。他非常迷恋安娜斯塔斯雅思随身携带的“装着致命药物的那个金质小容器”。想要得到它，似乎没有别的方法比用自己的智慧（顺便说一下，他的智慧也并不出众）来吓唬这个容器的主人更安全、更可行的了。这番评论给情节带来了更丰富的阐释，使它的故事性更强。因为如果把这位老者的话作为配药学的一份报告，那就太显荒谬了；但如果把它看成是对安娜斯塔斯雅思的哄骗，就不失为情节中的一个亮点。

[4] 我现在手头没有这本书可以查阅，但我记得这段话应该是这样开头的——“甚至是小酒馆里那种可以让一个人快乐，让另一个人疯狂的音乐，也可以激起我内心一阵深深的挚爱。”

鸦片之苦——序言

彬彬有礼的，并且，我希望也是，迁就宽容的读者（因为我所有的读者一定都是迁就宽容的，否则我担心他们会惊骇得无法保持谦谦君子之风度），你们已经陪我走了这么远了。现在我请求你们继续向前走，大概八年的时间，就是说从1804年到1812年。我的学术生涯现在已经结束，一去不复返了——几乎都忘却了。学生帽子已不再压在我的头上。如果说我的帽子还在的话，它一定是戴在某个年轻的学者的头上，他也一定和我当年一样，感到快乐，对知识强烈地热爱着。而我的学生服，这个时候，我敢说，也一定和成千上万存放在博德利图书馆[1]里那些极好的书籍一样，被那些专心致志的蚊子和蛾子勤勉地浏览着。或者我的学生服也可能去某个地方的大仓库了（这是我对它的归宿可能知道的全部），那里存放着所有的茶杯、茶叶罐、斟茶壶、烧茶壶（更别说那些玻璃杯、玻璃瓶等更易碎的容器了）。这些东西和现代用的茶杯什么的偶尔会有些相似，这种相似会让我回忆起曾经拥有过的那些物件，而这些物件的离去和它们最终的命运，我，和大多数大学里的教授一样，恐怕只能给出一个模糊的、不准确的描述。礼拜堂里的大钟在早上六点总是发出那不受欢迎的召唤，曾经让我备受折磨，如今再也不会打断我的睡眠了。那个打钟的人，也已经不在世了，不会再打扰到任何人。记得那时，我为了报复他，常在穿衣服的时候，用希腊语作一些讽刺短诗，拿他的鼻子做文章。还有很多饱受他的钟声之苦的人，也都决定不再计较他曾经犯下的错误，原谅了他。甚至，我现在开始怜悯这个大钟了。我猜想，它依然像以往一样，每天敲响三次，而且我毫不怀疑，它一定会打扰到很多可敬的绅士，扰乱他们平静的思绪。但对我而言，就在这个1812年，我不再注意这个奸诈的声音了（我之所以说它奸诈，是因为它把自己邪恶的初衷美化了一番，声音甜美清脆得让人听起来像是在邀请人去参加一个聚会）。它的音调再也无法传到我的耳朵里，让风尽情吹吧，正如它的邪恶初衷所期望的那样，但我还是听不到，因为我远在250英里以外，隐居在深深的大山里呢。我在大山里面做什么呢？吸食鸦片。是的。那么还做什么别的事情吗？啊，我的读者，我们现在已经讲到了1812年，就像在前些年里一样，我主要是在研究德国的形而上学，读了康德、费希特、谢林等等这些人写的东西。那么我现在是以怎样的方式生活着呢？或者简言之，我属于哪个阶层的人呢？在这个时期，也就是在1812年，我住在一个小村舍里，我的住所只有一个女佣人（honi soit qui maly pense）【谁要是想到邪恶的东西就是在使自己蒙羞】。这个佣人，被我的邻居们称作是我的“管家”。作为一个有知识、受过教育的学者和一个男人，我在某种意义上，可以说是一个绅士。我想我可以把自己看成是这个被称为“绅士”的含糊群体中不值一提的一名成员。部分是因为我上面提到的原因，部分是因为我没有从事某种可见的职业和工作，所以人们理所当然地认为我是在依靠我的私有财产生活。我被邻居们这样看待，同时也是出于现代英国人的礼节，在信件里，我通常被叫做“先生”。虽然，按照旧时掌礼官的严格解释，我恐怕只是具有这个称呼的些微资格而已。多数人出于尊重，称呼我某某某先生，但我并不是“治安官”，也不是郡法院的“首席法官”。我结婚了没有？还没有。我还在吸鸦片吗？每个星期六的晚上。是不是自从1804年那个“下雨的星期日”，“庄严的万神殿”和“天使般的药店老板”出现之后，我就开始不知羞耻地吸了呢？是这样吧。那么自从我吸了鸦片，我的健康状况如何呢？或者简单地说，我现在怎么样呢？啊，我真的是感觉好极了。谢谢你的关心，我的读者。用那些分娩的女人的话说，“正如预期的那样好”。虽然按照医务人员的理论来说，我应该是病了，但如果我敢把这个真实而简单的实情讲出来的话，应该说，我的身体从来没有像1812年的春天这样感觉如此之好。我由衷地希望，善良的读者，您在人生中每八年间，已经喝过的，或者打算要喝的，红葡萄酒、波尔图甜葡萄酒或者是“特别的马德拉白葡萄酒”的量，对您的身体健康几乎没有造成不良影响，这正如我在1804—1812年这八年期间服用的鸦片的剂量也没有影响到我的健康一样。这就再一次说明了听取安纳斯塔西斯所谓的医学建议是多么危险的一件事。据我所知，在神学或者法学方面，他的确是一位可靠的顾问，但在医药方面，就谈不上了，而且绝对不是。巴肯才是一个好得多的咨询对象。我牢牢地记住这位可敬的人很好的建议，并且做到：“特别注意一次服用鸦片酊的剂量绝不可以超过25盎司”。我想，正是因为我对它使用的节制和适度，才使我，至少是到那时（也就是1812年），还不清楚也没有想到过鸦片为那些滥用它的宽容的人所准备的报复性的恐怖惩罚是什么样子。与此同时，也不能忘记，我在瘾君子中间只能算是个半吊子，在这八年期间，我牢记着那个警示，在每次吸食一次之后，往往要间隔足够长的时间才进行下一次，这样就使鸦片不至于成为我每天饮食中的必需品。但现在我们又要开启一个新时期的记录了。读者们，如果你愿意的话，请跟随我进入1813年。在我们刚刚度过的那个夏天，我因为一件让人难过的事情而心情忧郁，由此产生了身体上的不适。这件事情，除了给我带来了现在身体上的疾病以外，和我当前要讲的东西无关，因此我也就不需要特别提及了。1812年的这场疾病到底和1813年的疾病有没有关系，我自己也不知道。但我的确深切地感受到，在1813年，我被胃部发出的非常可怕的疼痛侵袭着，从各个方面说，这种疼痛都和我年轻时遭受的疼痛一样，同时所有的那些旧梦也都随之复活了。关于我的自我辩白，可以说，这是一个转折点，之后发生的所有事情都从这里开始发生了转向。现在我发现自己感到十分困惑，几乎进退两难：一方面，如果为了用足够的事实证明，我已经没有能力再与疼痛和持续的疾苦角逐下去，就详尽地描述我的疾病，以及我如何与它展开斗争的，很可能会让读者感到再也没有耐性读下去了。但另一方面，如果我轻描淡写地略去这一段很重要的说明，我就不得不放弃一个给读者留下深刻印象的机会，而使自己受到误解，人们可能会以为我和那些自我放纵的人一样，从吸食鸦片的第一阶段轻松、逐步地过渡到最后一个阶段（这种误解，从我前面的自白部分开始，对于大部分读者而言，心里都有认可它的倾向）。这就是矛盾所在。前一种情况足以使大部分读者都烦躁不安，甚至望而生畏，虽然这些读者已经被情节吸引至此很难自拔，而且还不断地有新的读者让他们感到慰藉。所以这条路是万万不能走的。那么剩下的，就是我应该从我的目的出发考虑怎样来做。亲爱的读者，就如我前面的文字所做到的那样，我这一次仍然尽力平衡了你的耐性和我的耐性所能承受的限度，所以请充分给我信任吧。我会克制自己，充分考虑到你的舒适自在，请你千万不要吝啬，让我苦于得不到你的好建议。不，请相信所有我要求你做的事情吧，我再也无法抗拒了。请你充分相信吧，或者权当是对我的恩典，或者哪怕是出于谨慎起见，请相信我的话吧。如果你不相信，那么在我这本书修订版问世或者扩大发行的时候，我也会让你相信甚至为之震动。到时候，我就是伸个懒腰打个哈欠，都会把读者吓得再也不敢质疑我怎么做才合适的问题了。

那么这里，请允许我重复一下我的假定：从我开始每天服用鸦片开始，我就没有其他出路可寻了。至于后来，甚至是当所有的努力都变得徒劳时，是否我确实成功地戒除过这一嗜好，我做过的数不尽的努力是否可以再继续坚持一步，我对失掉的战场企图再次征服时是否可以保持更加积极的姿态，这些问题，在这里恕不作答。也许我可以在这里做一番辩解，但我是不是应该坦率地说话呢？我承认，我身上有一个困扰我的弱点，我是一个过分的享乐主义者，我渴望为自己和别人追求一种幸福感。我无法用十分坚定的目光直面痛苦，不管是我自己的还是他人的，也无法在恢复好转的期待中对抗当前的痛苦。说到其他一些事情，在斯多葛哲学方面，我赞同曼彻斯特棉花业[2]那些绅士的说法，在这个问题上则不赞同。在这个问题上，我要冒昧地允许自己不拘一格地走一回折中主义路线了。我也在留意找到这样一个礼貌谦恭、体贴宽容的教派，他会俯就、恩赐地迁就瘾君子虚弱的身体状况。他们是“和蔼可亲的人”，就像乔叟说的那样，因为他们能做到“准予赦罪”。他们在强迫我这样的可怜罪人忏悔和禁欲时良心会有些许不安。我绝不能容忍一个没有人性的道德家，正如我不能容忍没有煮过的鸦片一样。不管怎么说，这位召唤我在道德改良征程上付出巨大自我牺牲和努力自我禁欲的先生，必须让我清楚这种关切是一种怀着希望的关切。而在我当时的年龄（三十六岁），我根本不可能有太多的精力可以用了。甚至事实上，我发现我的精力用来做手头上现有的那些脑力工作都已经几乎不够了。因此，谁也别想用几句尖刻的语言就把我吓得踏上道德修养的道路上来，对我来说，那是一条令人绝望的冒险之旅。

不管是不是令人绝望的，1813年的斗争就是如此。从那一刻起，读者们就可以把我看成是有规律的、习惯性的痛君子了。如果有人问我某一天是否吸过鸦片，就无异于问我的肺是否还在呼吸，心脏是否还发挥它的功能。你现在搞清楚了，我是一个什么样的人，你就可以意识到，没有一个“留着花白胡子”的年长绅士，可以有任何机会说服我放弃那个“装着致命药物的金质容器”。我可以向所有人宣布，不管他是道德家还是外科医生，不管在他从事的行业里自命不凡也好，真有技能也好，如果他们用“大斋节”或者伊斯兰教徒的“斋月”这样野蛮的建议来企图戒除我的鸦片瘾的话，是绝不可能从我这里得到支持和赞同的。如果在这一点上我们达成了共识，我就可以扬帆起航了。那么，读者们，我们前面所有的时间，都坐在那里或者是逗留于此，现在，如果你们愿意，请跟随我站起来，继续再向前走三年。拉开幕布，你会看到一个完全不一样的我。

如果有一个人，穷人也好，富人也罢，说他要告诉我们他一生当中最幸福的一天，以及其中的原因，我想，我们可能都会大声喊出来：听他说！听他说！说到最幸福的一天，就算是智者也很难定义出来，因为任何事件，如果说能在人回顾一生时占据如此特别的地位，使得某一天充满幸福，它必定具有一种持久甚至永恒的意义。那么它就应该把同一种幸福或者至少不逊色于此的幸福照射很多年。比如最幸福的五年，或者最幸福的一年，任何人这样说，都不会引起智者的反对。我的这样一年，读者们，就是我们现在说到的这一年，虽然我承认，之前和之后的岁月都堪称令人沮丧，这一年却简直是灿烂如水（借用珠宝商的用词），隔绝于鸦片的阴郁忧愁和乌云笼罩。说起来可能很令人疑惑，在那段时间之前，我突然之间，没费多大努力，就把鸦片的食量从每天320格令（相当于8000[3]滴鸦片酊）骤减到40格令，也就是从前量的八分之一。瞬时间，就如同施了魔法一般，我亲眼看到，萦绕在我头脑中的最深刻的阴郁忧愁像黑色的雾气一般，从山脉的巅峰翻滚而下，在一天一夜之后全部撤退，和它阴沉的旗帜一起逐渐消失，就像被搁浅的船只一样漂浮在大潮中——

如果动，就会整个全都动。

于是，我又开始感到幸福了。我现在每天只服用1000滴鸦片酊。这是一个什么概念呢？结束了青年时代后，我的后半生的春天已经到来，我的头脑又像从前那样健康地发挥作用了。我又开始阅读康德，而且又开始能够读得懂，或者说是幻想自己读懂了。快乐的感觉重新把我包围起来。如果我知道有人从牛津或者剑桥或者别的什么地方，要来光顾我的寒舍，我一定会尽一个穷人之所能，来热情款待他。一个智者的幸福还缺少什么东西呢？——我一定会送给他所需要的足够的鸦片酊，而且要盛在一个圣餐杯中。既然说到了奉送鸦片，我就顺便提及一件发生在那时的小事。这件事本身并不重要，但虽然是微不足道的一件事，读者却很快就会在我的梦中再次遇到它，其影响力之可怕可能超出你的想象。有一天，一个马来人来敲我的门。一个马来人来英国的深山中有什么事情可做呢？我猜不出来，但也许他是正在赶往四十英里之外的港口吧。

给他开门的佣人是一个年轻的女孩子，她在山里出生、长大，从来没有见过任何亚洲风格的着装。所以，他的包头巾让她很是吃了一惊。后来又发现，他的英语能力就如她的马来语能力一样，两个人即便是有一些话要和对方说，在所有意思的表达上都面临一条不可逾越的鸿沟。在这种窘境下，这个女孩子想起她的主人有着出名的学问（并且，她也毫不怀疑地认为我懂得世界上所有的语言，而且，也许还有可能懂得几种月球上的语言），于是来告诉我，下面有一个魔鬼。她清晰地想象着我会施展魔法把他从房子中驱逐出去。我没有马上下去，但当我下去的时候，聚集在那里的人群，虽非精心设计，可能只是出于偶然的排列，首先吸引了我的注意。歌剧院里芭蕾舞演员高挑优美的舞蹈姿势，虽然更加复杂、夸张，惹人注目，却也没有这里的人群更吸引我的眼球。这是一个村舍的厨房，围墙上装饰的是因为年久和刮擦而变黑的木板，看起来像是橡木。与其说它是个厨房，还不如说它是个粗糙的乡下房舍的门厅。就在这儿站着那个马来人，他的包头巾和一条宽松、肮脏的白色裤子在黑色木板的映衬下更显眼。他把自己尽量靠近那个女孩子，而那个女孩子并不喜欢这样。虽然看起来，她骨子里所具有的山里人的勇敢无畏正在和看见眼前这个豹猫时心里产生的单纯的恐惧感做着激烈的斗争。这个女孩子有着美丽的英国人的面庞，精致、白皙的皮肤，挺拔、有主见的姿态，和那个马来人土黄色、病态的，就像是被海上的空气涂上或者镶嵌了红褐色的皮肤，凶狠的、不停地转动的小眼睛，薄薄的嘴唇，卑躬屈膝的姿态以及心中的爱慕之情，形成了鲜明的对照。再也想象不出比这更使人印象深刻的画面了。被这个长相凶恶的马来人半遮半掩的是一个邻居家的小孩，这个小孩是跟在马来人后面溜进来的。他现在正转过头，把目光移向包头巾下面那双炽热的眼睛，同时，用一只手抓住年轻女人的裙子以寻求保护。我的东方语言知识不是特别广泛，实际上我只会两个词——阿拉伯语的大麦以及土耳其语中的鸦片，都是从《安纳斯塔西斯》里学到的。而且，我既没有马来语的字典，也没有阿德龙的《密斯里戴茨》可以参考着查到一两个词。我引用《伊利亚特》里的一些诗句对他说了几句话，因为考虑到在我掌握的语言中，希腊语，从经度上看算是离亚洲国家最近的一种语言。他以非常虔诚的方式对我表示崇拜，然后我猜想他是用马来语回应了我。我用这种方式保存了我在邻居中间的威信和声望，而实际上那个马来人也没有办法泄露这个秘密。他躺在地板上，大概逗留了一个小时，就又继续赶路了。在他要启程离开时，我给了他一块鸦片。对一个东方人来说，我相信他一定对鸦片很熟悉，而他的表情确认了我的猜测是正确的。然而，当我看到他把那块鸦片分成了三块，随后突然把手放到嘴边，一口就吞（用学校里男学生的话说）下去的时候，我还是不免有些惊慌失措。这么多量的鸦片，足可以毒死三个骑兵加上他们的马匹，所以我为这个可怜的家伙感到忧虑和惊恐。但是我又能做些什么呢？我想到他如果是从伦敦步行来到这里的，那么他一定有将近三周的时间没有和任何人类发生过交流了，因此出于对他生活孤独寂寞的同情才给了他鸦片。我无法违背热情待客之道，把他抓住，灌下催吐剂，这样会让他感到恐慌，以为是要把他当做祭品供奉给什么英国的神像。不，不能这样做，很显然我帮不了他什么忙。于是，他走了，之后很多天，我都会感到有些焦虑。但因为一直没听说有马来人被发现死亡的消息，我也就认定他肯定是习惯于[4]这样服用鸦片了。我想我一定为他实现了我本意希望帮助他做到的事情——让他从流浪的辛劳中暂时得以喘息。

我花了一点时间来讲述这件事是因为，这个马来人（部分是因为在他的帮助下形成的动人场面，部分是因为他的样子给我带来的多日焦虑）后来阴魂不散地侵袭我的梦境，而且梦中他把比他自己更加糟糕的人也带了进来，对我“胡作非为”[5]，把我引入了一个麻烦缠身的世界。现在不说这段插曲了，我们转回到这夹在中间的幸福的一年。我刚才已经说过，在幸福这个对于我们每个人都如此重要的话题上，不管是谁，即使他只是一个种田的孩子，无法在这片涉及人类幸福与痛苦的难治理的土壤上犁得很深，也不会对那些启迪人心的原理做什么研究，我们都应该很乐意倾听他对自己的幸福经历和体验进行述说。而我，作为一个已经品尝过幸福的人——我吃过固体的也吃过液体的，既有煮过的也有未煮过的，既有来自东印度的也有来自土耳其的，在这个有趣的问题上，我曾用干电池的原理做过试验。为了全人类的福祉，我拿自己做了试验，为自己接种了疫苗——每天服用8000滴的鸦片酊毒药（如同不久前一位法国医生给自己接种癌症病毒一样，或者说就像二十年前一个英国医生给自己注射瘟疫病毒，还有一个我不知道是哪个国家的，给自己注射狂犬病毒一样）。我非常确定地知道什么是幸福（将来会得到公认），如果说这个世界上还有人知道的话。因此，我会在这里对幸福做一个分析。而我讲解这一点最有趣的表达方式，不是通过说教，而是把它置于对插在中间的这幸福一年的某个傍晚的描绘中。在这一年当中，我虽然每天晚上都要服用鸦片酊，但鸦片酊对于我来说只不过是一种能够给我带来快乐的酊剂。做完这件事，我就会彻底放下这个话题，而转到另一个完全不同的话题——鸦片之苦。

让我们来想象一下：图片中有一个小屋，伫立在山谷中间，距离城市大概十八英里远。这个山谷不是非常广阔，大概两英里长，四分之三英里宽，这样大小面积的好处就是，所有的家庭能够居住在可以被看作是一个更大的大家庭的半径区域内，邻里之间都觉得彼此熟悉，或者至少让你觉得有兴趣关注。接下来让我们在这幅画上想象出真实的山脉，它们的高度在3000—4000英尺之间，还有一个真实的小屋，而不是（像一个风趣的作者写的那样）“一个有着两个马车房的小屋”。那就让它是一个白色的小屋吧（这里我必须尊重事实场景），它被遮掩在开满鲜花的灌木丛中。这个小屋的周边环境非常好，不论春天、夏天还是秋天，墙上都有延绵不断的鲜花，簇拥在窗子周围。实际上每年都是以五月的玫瑰开始，最终以茉莉结束的。但是，我们在这里还是不要画春天、夏天或者秋天吧。我们来画冬天，而且是最严酷的冬天。这在研究幸福这门学问上很重要，人们对这一点的忽略着实让我很吃惊，他们甚至认为冬天即将离去或者到来的时候并不猛烈才是值得庆祝的。而我，正相反，每年都要祈求天气能够尽可能多地提供给我们大雪、冰雹、霜冻或者风暴。当然每一个人都知晓坐在炉边取暖的那种神圣的快乐感：下午四点钟的蜡烛、温暖的壁炉地毯、热茶、漂亮的沏茶匙、关闭的百叶窗垂落到地板上、有宽松褶皱的窗帘，这些和室外的狂风大作、雷雨交加形成了幸福的鲜明对照。

如同天地要融合会战，

用力叩打所有的门窗，

却发现并无缝隙可钻，

我们躲在坚实的屋舍，

休憩只变得愈加甜蜜。

（引自《懒惰城堡》）

所有的这些描述冬日傍晚所需要的物件，相信每一个生在高纬度地区的人都会很熟悉。而且很显然，精美食物中的大部分，比如说冰激凌，都需要非常低的温度才能制作出来，它们就像是不经历暴雪和严寒便不会成熟的水果。我并不是像人们说的那样。很挑剔”，不一定非要是雪、霜或者强风才可以，（像某某先生说的那样）“你可以把它当柱子一样依靠在上面”。即使只是雨我也可以接受，只要是倾盆大雨。如果这些都没有，我就会觉得自己受到了不公正待遇。我为什么要为过冬花费那么多钱，买煤、蜡烛和那些连绅士都觉得有可能出现匮乏的物品呢？不，看在我花那么多钱的份上，也一定要给我一个加拿大的冬天，或者是俄罗斯的冬天：每个人的耳朵简直不是自己的，只能任北风随意处置。的确，我在这个问题上是相当讲究的。如果圣托马斯节[6]过了一段时间，冬天已经出现了向令人厌恶的暖春退变的迹象，我就不能完全地享受冬天了。不，冬天必须被一堵厚厚的黑夜之墙与日照和光明分隔开来才行。因此，从十月份的后两个星期到平安夜这段时间，才是幸福最当令的时期。在我看来，幸福是在茶碟的伴随下走进我的房间的。我之所以这样说，是因为茶永远都是知识分子最好的饮品。尽管有人会对这一点冷嘲热讽，他们通常是些天生神经愚钝的人，或者是因为饮酒过度而对荼这样精致的兴奋剂变得不敏感了。对我来说，我会义无反顾地用“打歼灭战”的决心来与约翰森医生并肩战斗，反对乔纳斯·汉威或者其他对茶表示蔑视的亵渎者。但在这里，为了给我自己省去过多的文字表述的麻烦，我将会请来一位画家，指导他把这张画剩下的部分画好。画家一般不喜欢白色的小屋，除非这个小屋的白色因为饱经风霜而被自然着了色。但是正如读者所理解的，现在我们说的是一个冬天的夜晚，除了房子里面的东西以外，这位画家不需要考虑颜色的问题。

那么，请给我画一个十七英尺长十二英尺宽，不高于七英尺半的房间吧，这就是我家里被过高地定义为客厅的地方。但是因为起初这个地方是被设计为“虽一当二”的房间，它也被称作是，或者说更为合适地被称作是“书房”。在这里，我比邻居们的房间多出来的唯一财产就是书，大概有五千册。这些书，都是我从十八岁起慢慢积攒起来的。所以，画家，请你尽可能地在这里多画一些书吧，让这个房间里住满书籍。另外，还要给我画一个漂亮的壁炉。至于家具，只要画些简单、朴素的就可以，这样就可以和一个学者住的简陋小屋相匹配了。在壁炉旁边，请给我画上一张茶几（很显然这样风雨大作的夜晚是不会有客人来拜访的），茶盘上只画两个茶杯和茶碟。如果你知道怎样用象征手法或者别的方法来画这样一个东西的话，就请给我画一个永存的茶杯——一个“无始无终地”放在那里的茶杯，因为我在晚上八点和凌晨四点之间都会喝茶。还有就是，自己来煮茶或者斟茶是一件很令人不愉快的事情，所以请为我画上一位可爱的女士，坐在茶几旁边吧。把她的胳膊画得像奥罗拉一样，让她的笑容像赫柏。不，亲爱的M先生，请别给我机会，即使是以开玩笑的方式，认为你让我的小屋增辉的办法只有用美貌这样昙花一现的东西，或者让我相信那天使般的微笑是凡世间的画笔所能赋予的。所以，我的好画家，我们来画一个凡世间的画笔能够画出的东西吧，那么这下一个要画的自然就是我本人了——一个瘾君子的画像，和他的“装着致命药物的金质容器”，就在茶几上，在他的身旁。说到鸦片，我不反对在画面里看到它，尽管我更愿意看到真实的鸦片。如果你愿意，那就把它画上吧。但我必须向你说清楚，甚至是在1816年，那个“小“金瓶子已经无法满足我的需求了。我当时已经远离了“庄严的万神殿”和所有的药剂师（不管他们是凡人也好天使也罢）。不，你可以画一个真正的我使用的容器，不是金质的，而是玻璃的，应该尽量地像一个细颈酒瓶。你可以往这个瓶子里倒入一夸脱的红宝石颜色的鸦片酊。接下来，在这个容器旁边摆上一本德国形而上学的书，这样就足以说明这是我待的地方了。而至于我本人的位置，我有些犹疑不决。我承认，我本应该占据画面里最显著的位置，但作为这幅作品的主人公，或者说（如果你愿意这样叫）是被告席上的罪犯，使得我应该被带到这幅画面里来。这听起来合情合理，但我为什么要在这件事情上向一名画家忏悔呢？或者干脆说我为什么要忏悔呢？如果公众（我一直是在耳语般秘密地把我的忏悔说给我的大众听，并没有说给什么画家）有可能愿意给一个瘾君子的外表勾勒出一个和蔼可亲的形象，把他理想化为一个优雅或英俊的绅士，我为什么要野蛮地将他们心中如此令人愉快的幻想撕掉呢？不，如果想要画，就按照你的想象力去画吧。画家的想象力通常来说都会是美好的创造，这样我也就一定会从中得到好处了。好了，读者们，现在，我已经把1816年到1817年我的所有境况都讲完了。到1817年的年中，我认为我始终是一个非常幸福快乐的人，这些幸福的各个方面，我已经在对一个学者书房内部的勾勒中，在对大山中一个小屋的描绘中，以及对那个暴风雪的冬日夜晚的描述中，竭力地展现给你了。

现在，该是说再见的时候了——一个对幸福的长久告别——再见，不管是冬天还是夏天！再见，微笑和大笑！再见，宁静的心绪！再见，我的希望和平静的梦境！再见，那曾经给我安慰的睡眠！接下来三年半多的时间里，我永远远离了这些。现在，我该写一写伊利亚特的不幸和悲哀了。现在，我就要开始记录——

————————————————————

[1] 牛津大学图书馆。——译者注

[2] 那是一间宽敞的报刊阅览室，我印象中叫做“雅典画廊”（斯多葛学派创始人、希腊哲学家芝诺在雅典的讲学处——译者注）。在我经过曼彻斯特时，当地的几位绅士慷慨地让我使用这里的资源，而当时我只是个外乡人，还以为来此订阅报纸的人都是芝诺的追随者，后来才得知并非如此。

[3] 这里我把25滴鸦片酊折合成1格令鸦片，这应该是公认的估算方法。但由于两者都存在变量（粗鸦片在效力上差别很大，而酊剂的差别就更大了），我觉得这种计算很难达到毫厘不差的精确度。荼匙的大小和鸦片的效力都有可能造成较大差异。小一点儿的茶匙大概能盛100滴，所以8000滴就是大概80茶匙的量。那么读者就知道我是如何使用巴肯规定的服用的最大限量的了。

[4] 这并不是—个必然结论：鸦片对不同机体产生的效应差异可谓数不胜数。一个伦敦法官（参见哈利奥特《一生的斗争》第三版，第三卷，391页）曾经记录，他第一次因为痛风，疼痛难忍而尝试鸦片酊时，他服用了40滴，第二天晚上服了60滴，第五天晚上服了80滴，但并没有产生任何不良后果，而且当时他年事已高。另外，我听说过一位乡下医生的轶事，这件事让哈利奥特的情况显得不值一提。只要医学院愿意为我对他们的愚昧理解所给予的启示，付给我酬劳的话，我倒是愿意在计划写作并出版的关于鸦片的医学专著中，来讲谜这件事。这个故事实在是太好了，免费讲出来显得太可惜。

[5] 关于这一点，可以参看对于东方旅行者或者航海者的一些常见描述，其中会写到吃了鸦片或者因为赌博输钱而陷入绝望的马来人所做出的疯狂行为。

[6] 指每年的12月21日，为纪念最后一位亲眼目睹耶稣复活的使徒——圣托马斯而设立的节日。——译者注

鸦片之苦

正如伟大的画家笔尖下

绘出的地震和日蚀的昏暗一般。

（引自雪莱的《伊斯兰的起义》）

读者们，你们已经陪伴我走了这么远，这里我不得不要求你们先注意阅读我下面三点解释性的说明：

第一，出于几个原因，我已经无法做到把这部分故事内容纳入一个成体系的、相互联系的篇章了。我在这里展现给读者的笔记都是没有条理、支离破碎的，就像我当初发现它们时，或者从脑海里回忆起它们时的样子。这里，有一些笔记上面有记录日期，有一些，我可以回忆起来，还有一些是没有标注日期的。但凡能够把它们按照自然的时间顺序组织起来，我都会毫不犹豫地去做。有的时候，我会用现在时态来写，有的时候会用过去时态，也许，这其中有很多都不是在确切的相关日期写下的，但这不会影响到其内容的精确性。这些东西给我的印象太深刻了，我无论如何也不能把它们从记忆中淡忘掉。很多东西在这里被省却了。除非刻意努力，否则我很难让自己不回忆起那些对我的思想已构成负担的恐惧感，也很难把它们编写成一个有条理的故事。对于这种感觉，我一方面要请求谅解，一方面要说明因为我现在身在伦敦，无依无靠，若无人协助则连文字整理工作都很难进行，而过去经常为我做文书笔录的人又和我分开了。

第二，你可能会觉得，我这个人太容易信任别人，太喜欢跟别人讲自己的私人经历。也许是这样。但我的写作风格很大程度上是自言自语、随想随说的，通常是随着自己的性子，而不考虑我的听众是谁。如果我停下来去想，我说给这个人或者那个人的话是否合适，就会很快觉得写的这些东西统统不合适了。事实上，我把自己放到十五或二十年之后，设想自己正在写给那些在我死后会对我感兴趣的人，希望我能为一段光阴做一份记录，这段光阴的全部历史除了我以外别人无从知晓。而现在，我就在尽我所能、付出所有努力、最大程度地做好这件事，因为我不知道自己是否能再找到时间来做这件事。

第三，你可能经常会问，为什么我不戒掉或者起码减少鸦片的食量来把自己从鸦片的噩梦中解救出来呢？对这个问题我必须做出一个简要的回答。你可以认为我太容易被鸦片令人神魂颠倒的力量所俘虏了，但不会有人因为其恐怖的力量而对其着迷。因此，读者们应该可以确定的是，我曾经无数次尝试过减少用量。另外，我想补充说明的一点是，那些亲眼见证了这种尝试所遭致的剧烈痛苦的人，而不是我本人，会首先劝阻我不要再尝试了。但是难道我就不能一天减少一滴或者用水稀释，进而把这一滴稀释为两份甚至是三份吗？可如果这样的话，一千滴若要被稀释为两份，就要花掉将近六年的时间。因此，这种办法也是行不通的。但实际上这是没有亲身体验过鸦片的人所犯的一个共同错误。我想问这些人，是否曾发现这样一个事实：在到达某一个点之前，人可以很容易甚至是带着愉悦减少鸦片服用的剂量，但是过了这个点之后，再减量就会给身体带来强烈的痛苦与折磨。是的，那些不动脑子、不知道自己在说什么的人，会说：你只是会有几天感到有一点儿精神不振、萎靡低落而已。让我来告诉你，不是这样的，根本就不会有精神不振的问题。相反，那种单纯的动物似的精神反而更加亢奋，脉搏加速，健康得到了改善。但这并不是苦痛所在。这种苦痛和戒酒所遭致的折磨完全没有相似点。那是一种胃部发出的难以形容的疼痛（显然跟沮丧有很大不同），伴随着严重的流汗。那种感觉，我不想再描述下去了，因为眼下没有那么多篇幅允许我这样做。

我现在不会“直入正题”，而是想从鸦片给我带来的痛苦达到“顶点”的那段经历中，说一说那样的痛苦如何给我的智力造成瘫痪性的影响。

我的研究已经被长久地中断了，我无法带着愉快的心情来阅读什么书籍，几乎一会儿也读不了。但我有的时候也为了让别人享受而大声朗诵些什么。朗诵是我的成就之一。在俚语的使用中，“成就”这个词就是指一种表面的、装饰性的才能，它也几乎是我拥有的唯一一种成就。在过去，如果说我还算有一种和我的天赋以及成就相关联的虚荣的话，那就是朗诵这种才能了，因为我发现这种成就竟是如此地稀有。演员可以说是最糟糕的朗诵者，比如某某某就读得很拙劣，而某某夫人，虽然很出名，但除了剧本以外什么也读不好。她读弥尔顿的时候，我简直无法忍受。大多数人朗诵诗行的时候不是根本没有投入感情，就是太过做作，完全有失学者的风度。近来，如果说我还对什么书感兴趣的话，那就是我自己大声朗诵的《力士参孙》这部伟大的哀诗了，以及《失乐园》中撒旦演说的和谐韵律。一位年轻的女士有时候也会来和我们一起喝茶，在她和M的恳请下，我会时不时地朗诵W的诗歌给他们听。顺便说一句，W是我见到过的唯一一个可以朗诵自己诗作的人，他的朗诵时常是令人赞美的。

在将近两年的时间里，我认为我只读过一本书，这要感谢这位作者，为了表达我这份厚重的感激之情，我一定要提一下这本书才行。更加令人崇敬和激情洋溢的书，我也还在断断续续地读，就像我先前说过的那样。我十分清楚，更适合我做的事情，是运用我的分析解读能力。但是一般来说，分析性的研究是需要连续性的，而不能间歇进行，或者试图用零碎的精力和努力来做。对于研究像数学、哲学等这些东西，我已经是力不从心了。我一碰到它们就会因为一种婴儿般的无力和虚弱而退缩回来。而一想起过去曾经时刻带着愉悦心情与它们扭打，尝试战败它们的时光一去不复返，我就会觉得更加痛苦，因为我曾经把我生命的全部精力、智力，从开花到结果，都奉献给了著述一部作品这样漫长而复杂的辛勤劳作。我那时想擅自做主，把斯宾诺莎那部没有完成的著作的题目拿来做我的书名，也就是《人类智力的改进》。这本书现在已经束之高阁了，像西班牙的桥梁和渡槽一样，被冰霜冻结。它们起初的设计规模远远超出建筑师们的财力和能力。它不会成为我的志向，不会是我希望铸成的纪念碑，也不为纪念我那致力于人性提升而写作这部上帝相信我定能胜任的作品的一生，而是更可能成为我留给孩子的一份纪念物。它记录了那些被挫败了的希望、受到阻碍的努力、白白积累起来的素材、一个永远无法支撑起上部建筑的地基，以及这位建筑师的悲伤和毁灭。就这样，在愚钝的状态下，为了消遣，我把注意力转向了政治经济学。我的理解力，在过去，像一匹土狼一样活跃和灵敏，所以我猜想正因为如此，它很难（只要我还活着）陷入彻底的萎靡和倦怠。而政治经济学提供给这种状态下的人一个有利条件。虽然政治经济学很明显地是一种有机科学（就是说，每一部分都会作用于整体，正如整体也会反作用于每一个局部），但几个部分可以彼此分开，单独进行思考。这段时间，我的思考能力已经几近衰竭，但是学过的知识我还是没有忘掉。很多年来，我对几位思想家、逻辑推理以及一些学识渊博的学者都谙熟在心，当然也很清楚那群现代大经济学家们虚弱的地方。早在1811年，我就接触过经济学很多分支学科的大量的书籍和小册子，而且在我的要求下，M有时还给我读一些当时新近出版的书籍中的某些章节，以及国会辩论的部分内容。我认为这些都是人类智慧的渣滓和糟粕。任何一个有理智的、可以用学者的熟练和机智来运用逻辑的人，都可以把这一群现代经济学家抓起来，用大拇指和另外任意一个指头把他们掐死，让他们消失于天地之间，或者用一把女士的扇子把他们发霉的头敲得粉碎。终于，在1819年，一个爱丁堡的朋友送给我一本李嘉图先生的书，我边读边反反复复地想起自己从前的预言——政治经济学这个学科的立法者就要出现了。于是，在我还没读完第一章的时候，我就说：“你就是那个人！”惊讶和好奇在我身上本来是早已死去的两种情感，然而这会儿，我开始惊讶了。我对我自己感到惊讶，我竟然能再一次被刺激到，又开始试图努力读书了，而我更加惊叹于这本书。这本见解深刻的著作真的是在19世纪的英国写成的吗？这可能吗？我以为思考[1]已经在英格兰被灭绝了呢。难道竟真的是一个英国人，非但不是出身于学院的闺房内，还因身处商界和参议院，被双重关注所压抑，成就了欧洲所有大学和一个世纪的思想家们都无法前进哪怕一小步的事情？所有其他作者都被大量的事实和文献击碎或压垮了。而李嘉图却从理解本身出发，演绎出（用演绎推理的方法得出）某些规则，这些规则给那些难以把握、看似混乱无序的素材带来了第一缕光。他把许多试探性的讨论建构成一个有规律有秩序的科学，使得政治经济学第一次建立在一个永恒的基础上。

就这样，一本见解深刻的著作给我带来了快乐，也让我重新开始做好多年都不曾做的事情。它甚至激起我写作的欲望，或者至少是口授，让M帮我写下来。我似乎发现，有一些事实逃过了李嘉图先生那双几乎是“明察秋毫”的眼睛。这些事实中大部分内容的性质使得我可以用代数符号来进行简单而优雅的表达和阐释，而不用经济学家通常使用的笨拙而含义模糊的词汇。这样一来，我把它们都写出来也不会写满一个袖珍笔记本。因为行文简洁，又有M给我当文书和助手，虽然我当时几乎已经什么都做不了了，我还是起草了《各种未来政治经济学体系之绪言》。我希望没有人从它身上嗅到鸦片的气息，但对于大多数人而言，这个题目本身就充满了鸦片的味道。

然而，这一努力的最终结果告诉我，一切只是昙花一现而已。因为我当时本来是打算要出版这本著作的，打印工作被安排在一个偏僻的印刷厂，大概十八英里外的地方。而且还因为这个原因，额外雇用了一个排字工人，留在那里好几天。这本著作被加倍做了宣传，我在一定程度上承诺要实现自己的这一目标。我有一个前言要写，还想为李嘉图先生写一份漂亮的献词。但渐渐地我发现自己根本无法完成所有这些工作，于是前面的安排被取消了，排字工人被解雇了，我的“前言”就此安歇在比它更年长、更高贵的兄弟身边了。

我已经描写和阐述了我智力上的麻痹状态，这种麻痹状态，多多少少地适用于这四年当中的每一个阶段。在这四年当中，鸦片就像女巫喀耳刻似的咒语一样控制着我着魔的身体。但说到痛苦和折磨，我可能确实处于一种休眠状态。我连写一封信都懒得动。收到的来信，要在桌子上放上几个星期甚至是几个月，最后也就是简单地回几句，这就是我能做到的最大限度了。要是没有M的帮助，那些付过账和没有付过账的单据根本保存不下来。先不说政治经济学怎么样，就是我自己家的经济也一定早就陷入一片混乱了。我以后不会再提到这一段内容了。因为身体上的无能和虚弱，因为对每天正常工作的玩忽和拖拉而产生的局促不安，也因为这种懊悔和自责使一个深思着的、有良知的人对自己的罪恶感到深恶痛绝，瘾君子最后会发现自己像其他任何经历过类似情况的人一样，也会感到心灵压抑，备受折磨。瘾君子并没有丧失道德感，也没有丧失内心的理想和抱负。他像以往一样，依然迫切地渴望实现他自己认为有可能做到的事情，也能感受到责任感在严格地要求自己。但是他内心对自己到底能做成什么事情的忧虑远远超出了他所具备的能力，这里说的能力不仅是指他对事情的执行能力，甚至包括企图去尝试的能力。他始终生活在噩梦和梦魇的重压之下。他躺在那里，能看见所有他乐意去做的事情。像一个因为得了不能自由活动的疾病而倦怠地被迫躺在病床上的人一样，看见自己最心爱的东西受到了伤害或者践踏，却只能眼睁睁地看着，无能为力。他咒骂把他绑在那儿无法动弹的咒语，如果能够站起来，能够走动，即便要让他拿生命去换他都愿意。但是他就躺在那里，像一个小婴儿，要站起来，想都别想。

现在，我要开始讲这后一部分自白中的主要内容了，讲一讲过去甚至可以说是每一天在我的梦境里发生的事情，因为这些就是造成我内心最强烈的痛苦的直接原因。

我第一次注意到身体发生的重要变化就是，童年时经常出现的视觉幻象被重新唤醒了，敏感易怒的状态也被激发起来。我不知道我的读者是否注意到，许多孩子，或许是大部分孩子，都有一种在黑暗的背景上描绘出各种各样的幽灵鬼怪的能力。对有些孩子而言，这些幽灵鬼怪仅是一种视觉现象，另一些孩子则有一种自觉或者半自觉地传唤和解散它们的能力。当我就这个问题向一个孩子提问时，他回答我说：“我让他们走开，他们走开了；但是有的时候，我没让他们来，他们也会来。”于是，我告诉他，他对幽灵幻象的控制能力就如同古罗马的百夫长对他的士兵的指挥能力一样。在1817年年中，我记得应该是在这一年，这种感官能力开始令我十分苦恼。当我躺在床上没睡着的时候，会看到很多人形成送葬的队伍从我身边走过；还能听到那些永无完结的故事，它们听起来是那么地悲伤、沉重，好像这些故事都来自俄狄浦斯、普利安之前的时代，来自提尔和孟菲斯以前的时代。同时，在我的梦境中出现了相应的变化。一座剧院好像在突然之间就在我的脑海中敞开了大门，并且灯也突然亮起来，展现在我眼前的夜晚景象壮观异常，非凡间的光辉所能比拟。接下来，我想说说下面四个事实，它们在这个阶段都是显而易见的。

第一，随着眼睛的创造力在加强，大脑在清醒和睡梦状态之间出现了一个交感点，这让我在黑暗中情不自禁地想起什么或者有意识地去勾勒出某些画面，但这些东西随即就会进入我的梦境中，所以我现在很害怕运用眼睛的这种能力。就像弥达斯[2]把所有的东西都变成了金子，但金子却仍然挫败他的希望，欺骗他的欲望一样。凡是能够通过视觉呈现出来的东西，我在黑暗中只要一想起，就会立刻在我眼前幻化成妖魔鬼怪。这几乎成了一个无法避免的过程。一旦被勾勒出来，即使是用模糊和虚幻的色彩，就像是隐显墨水写出来的东西一样，它们就会在梦境那激烈的化学反应中，幻化成令我无法忍受的宏大场面，使我的内心苦恼不安。

第二，这一变化和我梦境中出现的所有其他变化，都伴随着深切的焦虑和令人沮丧的忧郁，这一切简直无法用语言表达。每天晚上，我好像都在向下坠落，不是在作比喻，而是真的在坠落。身体掉进了地面的裂缝里、无光的深渊里，掉啊掉啊，一直往深不见底的地方坠落，仿佛我再也没有办法从底下升上来了。直到我醒来，我也没有觉得自己已经重新升上来。关于这些，我不想再继续讲下去了，因为伴随这些宏大场面的幽暗状态，是无法用语言来形容的，它至少相当于自杀企图下消沉的意志所能感受到的彻底的黑暗。

第三，空间感，以及最后连带时间感，都受到了严重的影响。建筑、风景等等，都以巨大的比例被呈现出来，大到人眼无法接纳的程度。空间膨胀了，扩大到难以形容的无限度状态。然而，这也并没有时间的膨胀那么烦扰我。有时候，我觉得一夜之间，我就过了七十年甚至一百年；不止如此，有时候甚至觉得是过了一千年，或者觉得经历了比任何人类所能经历的生命期限还要长的时间。

第四，童年时代最无足轻重的事情，或者之后岁月里已被遗忘的事情，都会在睡梦中复活。实际上，不能说是我在回忆它们，因为倘若我是在醒着的时候听别人给我讲述这些事情，我可能不会把它们看成是我自己的经历。但是如果把它们放在我眼前，在直觉一样的梦境里，配以瞬息即逝的情境和伴随而来的情感，我一下子就能识别出来。我的一个近亲曾经告诉我，她小时候有一次掉进河里，要不是得到及时援救，她可能早就淹死了。但就在死神和她擦肩的瞬间，她看到她的整个一生都突然展现在她面前，其中包含了最微不足道的事件。这些事情都在同一时间像镜子映射出来的影像一样在她面前展开。于是她忽然之间产生了一种理解整体和局部的能力。关于这一点，从我本人吸食鸦片的经历来看，我是相信的。我也的确有两次在现代出版的书籍里读到过类似的描述，其中的一句评论我也相信是真实的。也就是说，《圣经》中说到的那本可怕的书里描述的，实际上，就是每一个人的心灵本身。至少在这一点上，我确信，心灵是谈不上会“忘记”什么的。成千上万的事件会在我们当下的意识和心里私密的记忆之间隔上一帘轻纱，同类事件再度发生时便会把这层轻纱撕掉。但是，不管是否撕掉，那段记忆会永远铭刻在心灵上。这就如同，星星在大白天的时候，会隐退起来，而事实上我们都知道它们只是被光像轻纱一样给遮挡住了，它们在等待着白天最后一缕光线撤下去，才再次显现出来。

上面我已经说明了区别我的梦和健康人的梦的四个重要事实，现在我要引用一个例子来阐述刚才的第一个事实，然后我会引用其他我还记得的例子，按照它们的时间顺序或者其他可以产生更好效果的顺序，让它们以画面的形式呈现给读者。

从年轻的时候开始，甚至从那时到现在一直都是这样，我偶尔为了放松一下，会读一读李维的作品。我承认，不管在风格上还是内容上，我都非常喜欢李维写的东西，胜过其他罗马历史学家。在李维的书中，经常出现的让我感到最为严肃、令人敬畏的，最能代表罗马人民的雄伟、庄严的字眼就是“罗马执政官”，尤其是执政官披挂着军事色彩出现的时候。我是想说，像国王、苏丹、摄政者等字眼，或者其他具体体现一个伟大民族的雄伟、庄严的任何称谓，都没有罗马执政官这个词那么地让我感到肃然起敬。虽然我不是一个酷爱历史的读者，但英国的这一段历史时期——国会战争时期，我是非常详尽、具体地了解和熟悉的，并为其中代表着正义和伟大的人物，以及那些经历了特殊年代并留存下来的传记故事所深深吸引。我对这两种内容所做的轻松阅读，经常会让我在头脑中反复回忆和映现那些东西。我经常在醒着的时候，在空洞的黑暗中回想出那些画面之后，看见一群贵妇人聚集在一起，可能是在什么节日的酒会上，她们跳着舞。接着我就听见有人说，或者是我自己在说也不一定：“这些妇人生活在查理一世的不幸年代，她们是那些在和平中结识、曾坐在同一张餐桌上进餐、通过婚姻或血缘关系结盟在一起的人的妻子和女儿。但是在1642年8月的一天之后，她们就再也没有对彼此微笑过，除了在战场上再没碰过面。在马斯顿荒原战役中，在纽伯里战役中，在内兹比战役中，他们用残酷的军刀斩断了所有爱的情缘，用鲜血冲刷掉了记忆中那古老的友谊。”这些贵妇人跳着舞，就像乔治四世宫廷里的那些贵妇人一样可爱。但我知道，即使是在梦里，我也清楚，她们已经在坟墓里度过将近两个世纪了。这场盛会突然散去，一阵掌声之后就能听见罗马执政官那令人惊心动魄的声音。这时，保鲁斯或者是马吕斯身着华丽的罗马战袍威风凛凛地走过来，一队百夫长簇拥在旁，一件深红色的战袍高高地挂在一杆长矛上，接下来听见的就是罗马军团响亮的口号声。

很多年前，我正在看皮诺内斯的《罗马古迹》的时候，站在一旁的柯勒律治先生给我描述了这位艺术家画的一套插画，被他本人称作是他的“梦”的插画。这些画面记录了他在高烧导致神志昏乱的状态下亲眼看到的场景。其中一些（我只是凭着对柯勒律治所讲事物的记忆来描述）描绘了巨大的哥特式建筑的门庭，地板上放着各式各样的发动机和机械装置，轮子、电缆、滑轮、杠杆、弹射器等。这些东西可以让人感受到它们曾经爆发出的力量，以及曾与之抗衡的东西是如何被最终征服的。沿着墙边，你会看到一段楼梯，而在楼梯上摸索前行的人正是皮诺内斯本人。如果沿着楼梯再往前看一点，你会发现这段楼梯突然就没有了，也没有扶手，他已经走到了尽头，不能再继续向前走了，否则只会落入楼梯下面的深处。不管可怜的皮诺内斯最后会面临怎样的结局，起码有一点是肯定的，那就是他向上继续爬楼梯的劳作可以就此停下来了。但是，请抬起你的眼睛，你会看到高处还有第二段楼梯，而皮诺内斯又出现在那里了，但这一次他就站在深远处的最边缘。然后你再抬起眼睛，会看到更高处还有一段楼梯，可怜的皮诺内斯还在踌躇满志地忙着继续攀爬。一段一段的楼梯就这样继续着，直到一段没有完结的楼梯和皮诺内斯都消失在大厅上方的昏暗当中。而我梦中所看到的建筑也有着同样无限伸展并且自我再生的力量。在我生病的开始阶段，我梦境中的壮观景象也的确是以建筑为主的。我在梦中看到的城市和宫殿显得如此壮丽秀美，是我醒着的时候从没有见到过的，除非是在云彩里面。下面我要引用一位伟大的现代诗人的一段篇章，这一段描述的是在云彩里看到的真实景象，也是我经常在梦里看到的：

城市的帷幕瞬间被拉开，

一个强大的城市展现出来。

楼群建筑真可谓茫茫一片，

深深陷入并隐退进奇妙的深渊，

更是幻化成壮丽辉煌，无尽无边！

它似钻石黄金所造，

雪花石膏的圆顶，银色的塔尖，

一层一层耀眼的平台，耸入云端。

这边，安静的亭阁分布在街上，色彩光鲜，

那边，塔台被城垛包围，不安的城垛正面，

满是星星，放出宝石荟萃的光彩！

尘世间的自然施法于暴风雨的黑暗，

使其平息安静。

小海湾上的雾气已退，

萦绕着山岳的峭壁和巅峰。

它们于是在蓝天下，

找到了自己的驿站。

“不安的城垛正面，满是星星”这个壮观的场景大概是从我的有建筑的梦境中复制过去的，因为它经常出现在我的梦里。我听说过关于德莱顿和当代的弗塞利的一些报道，他们认为如果想要在梦中看见辉煌的场景，就一定要吃生肉。其实，要想实现这个目的，吃鸦片不是更好吗？但是迄今为止，我还不知道除了戏剧家沙德威尔以外，还有什么诗人做过这样的尝试。我想，荷马，确实是知道鸦片的这个好处的。

继有建筑的梦境之后就是有湖泊出现的梦，那是一片银色的浩瀚水域。这些东西是如此地困扰我，我甚至担心大脑的水肿现象或迹象会成为客观事实（这里用一个形而上学的词汇）。有两个月的时间，我的头让我饱受折磨。作为我身体结构的一部分，我的头到目前为止，都一直没有受到过任何虚弱状况的侵袭（我是指身体健康方面）。我过去曾说过，就如同奥福德男爵说他自己的胃一样，我头脑的寿命要长于我身体的其他所有部位。直到现在，我都从来没有头疼过，即使是最轻微的疼痛都没有过。我只是有一些风湿痛，这都怪我自己愚蠢。然而，这种疼痛我已经克服掉了，虽然它一度曾经到达最危险的边缘。

现在，上面说到的水又改变了它们的特征，从过去的像镜子一样能反光的半透明的湖水，变成了现在的汪洋大海。这是一场巨大的变化，就像一幅画卷，在几个月的时间里，慢慢地展开自己，似乎预示着一场旷日持久的苦难折磨。事实上，在我的疾病痊愈以前，它始终没有离开过我。在那以前，我的梦里也会有人的面孔出现，但他们并不凶恶也没有任何向我施与折磨的特殊力量。而现在，被我称作“暴虐”的面孔开始显露出来了，这可能和我在伦敦的那段生活经历有关系，就算是这样吧。这些人的面孔开始出现在泛起波澜的水面上。海面上简直可以说铺满了无数的面孔，他们的脸都朝向天空。有哀求的面孔、愤怒的面孔、绝望的面孔，他们随着浪涌向上翻腾，成千上万，甚至可谓无数，一代接着一代、一世纪接着一世纪……我内心的激动、焦虑无边无际，我的心绪摇摆颠簸，随着海水汹涌翻腾。

1818年5月

那个马来人成了我的一个可怕的敌人，已经有数月之久。每天晚上，我都因为他的缘故，被流放到有亚洲情景的梦境中去。我不知道别人在这一点上是否有和我一样的感受，但是我经常想，如果我被迫离开英格兰，转而居住在中国，把自己夹在中国的风俗习惯和生活方式中间的话，我一定会疯。让我产生这种恐惧的原因是根深蒂固的，其中一些一定是和其他人相同的。总的来说，南亚是一个让人产生可怕幻象和联想的地方。作为人类的摇篮，它本身就有一种隐隐约约的令人肃然起敬的感觉。但是还有其他的一些原因。没有人能够假装非洲或者其他未开化部落的原始、野蛮、变幻莫测的异教和迷信给他带来的影响能够与印度斯坦古老、极端、残忍、复杂的宗教给他带来的影响相提并论。单是亚洲的习俗体制、文化历史、信仰模式的古老悠久就如此地迷人。对我来说，这个种族及其名字的高龄就能压倒一个青年人自觉年轻的感觉。一个年轻的中国人在我看来就是一个大洪水以前的人复活了。即便是一个不是在这种习俗体制下长大的英国人，对于经历无数年代的分化和拒绝混合而形成的庄严而神秘的种姓制度，也会不寒而栗。同样，也没有人听到恒河和幼发拉底河的名字而不为之产生敬畏的。南亚，几千年来，始终是地球上人口最为稠密的地区之一，这很大程度上也是人们对它产生这种情感的原因。可以说那里是就是“民族制造厂”。在那一地区的人就如同杂草一般。那些巨大的亚洲帝国，个个人口众多，这也让所有与东方相关联的名字和形象都更使人产生崇敬和敬畏感。在中国，除了它与南亚其他地区相似的地方以外，我总是对那里的生活方式、礼仪习俗感到恐惧不安，彻底的憎恶和同情心的缺乏已成为我们之间的一道障碍。这种感觉深刻到我无法做出分析和解释。我甚至宁愿和疯子或者野兽住在一起，也不愿到那些地方去。所有我上面说的，还有我没能说出来或者是没有时间说的东西，读者一定要了解。只有了解了这些，你才能明白我的梦境中那些和东方相关联的形象和令人感到神秘的痛楚给我带来的无法想象的恐慌，是如何印记在我的头脑中的。热带的高温和直射的阳光给我的连带感觉让我在梦里看见了各种各样的生物：所有能在中国或印度斯坦看到的鸟类、野兽、爬行动物，各种各样的树木、植物，各种各样的习俗、场面，都聚集在我的梦境中。同样，我也在梦境中把埃及和她所有的神明都一并召唤来了。我被猴子、长尾鹦鹉和凤头鹦鹉怒目而视、嬉笑嘲讽、品头论足，于是我跑进了一个塔庙，却最终被封在塔顶或者一个密室里面，长达几个世纪的时间。我成了偶像，成了牧师，我被崇拜，我被献祭。我穿越亚洲所有的森林，逃离布拉马神的愤怒。毗湿奴神憎恨我，希瓦神也埋伏起来准备伏击我，我突然遇到伊希斯神和奥西里斯神。他们说，我做了一件就连朱鹭和鳄鱼也会感到不寒而栗的事情。我和木乃伊以及狮身人面像一起被埋进了石棺里，长达数千年。这些石棺就在不朽的金字塔狭窄的房间里。我被鳄鱼亲吻，那吻里带着癌症病毒，我躺在芦苇和尼罗河的泥沙中间，那些无法形容的肮脏的东西让我惊慌失措。

在这里我要把自己与东方文化有关系的梦境给读者稍微做个摘要。梦境中出现的恐怖场景总让我感到非常吃惊，以至于内心的恐惧会瞬间被吞没，只剩下全然的惊骇。但缓过一阵子，那份吃惊又会被一股回流的情感所吞噬。这时，我看到的东西，与其说让我吃惊，不如说是让我陷于憎恨和厌恶的情感之中。梦中见到的每一种轮廓、威胁、惩罚、昏暗无形的禁闭都滋生出永恒无限期的威胁，这让我感到备受压抑甚至失去理智，除了一两次例外。只有在这样的梦境里我才会时常看到让我在肉体上感到恐惧的场景，在这之前都只是道德和精神上的恐怖而已。但现在，出现在我梦境里的通常是一些丑陋的鸟或者蛇或者鳄鱼，尤其是鳄鱼会经常出现。该死的鳄鱼比别的任何东西都让我感到恐怖。我被迫和它生活在一起，而且长达几个世纪（我的梦里几乎总是这样的）。有时，我逃掉了，然后发现自己走进了中国人的房子，里面有藤条编的桌子和其他东西。这些桌子、沙发等东西的腿瞬间活了起来。鳄鱼那可恶的头和它邪恶的眼睛警觉地，成千上万次地盯着我看。我站在那里，一阵恶心，却无法动弹。这个令人厌恶的爬行动物经常侵扰我的梦境，很多次，这同一个梦都以相同的方式被打断。我听到一阵轻柔的声音（我睡觉的时候依然什么都可以听到）对我说话。于是我立刻就醒了，发现已经是正午时分。我的孩子们站在那里，手拉着手，站在我床边。他们是来给我看他们五颜六色的漂亮鞋子，或者新外衣，或者出门前的穿戴的。可以明确地说，从梦境中看到该死的鳄鱼和其他难以形容的怪物直到梦境的终止，一下子过渡到眼前看到年幼的孩子和人性的天真无邪，这种感觉真的是糟糕极了。在心灵毫无准备地经历了如此急剧的变化之后，我哭了，同时情不自禁地亲吻着孩子们的脸庞。

1819年6月

我认为有理由说，在生命的不同阶段，我们深爱的人的离去，以及对死亡的沉思，“在其他条件都相同的情况下”，在夏天要比在其他季节更令人动情。理由有三个：第一，夏天可见的天空看起来要更高、更远、更广阔无垠（如果这样的语法错误可以被原谅的话）。云彩——我们的眼睛主要依靠它们来判断延伸在我们头顶的那片蓝天有多大，在夏天也更多、更密，堆积在一起显得更加高大宏伟。第二，下落的太阳发出的光线和显现出的样子也更加适合这一广阔无垠的特征。第三（这也是最主要的理由），生命的朝气蓬勃和喧闹多彩四处弥漫，这自然会更有力地迫使心灵想起与它格格不入的死亡以及坟墓的冰冷与荒芜。你也许会注意到，一般来说，任何两个通过对抗法则而相互关联，或者说，因为互相排斥而存在的事物，一个的存在总是会唤起对另一个的关注。正因为这个原因，我发现当自己在夏天无尽的白日下独自行走时，总是会不自觉地想到死亡。某一个具体的死亡，如果说不是更加让我动情的话，也会在这个季节里更加顽固地在我的梦中纠缠个没完。也许是这个原因，以及另一件我没有讲的小事，直接引发了如下梦境。但做这个梦的诱因一定早就存在于我心中了。这个诱因从被激发那天起，就再也没有离开过我。这个梦分裂成上千个荒诞奇异的变种，而这些变种又经常重新组合回去，被编织成原来的那个梦境。

我记得那是五月的一个星期天的早晨，那天是复活节，天才蒙蒙亮。我似乎是刚站在我自己的小屋门口，一幅场景就在我面前展开，这一场景是我平时真正站在那儿时就能看得到，但和往常一样，因为梦的力量得到了升华，而变得更加庄严了。山还是那些山，山脚下还是那些可爱的山谷，但不同的是，这些山被提高到了阿尔卑斯山的高度，而它们之间的草场、森林和草地的面积也变得更大了，树篱中间长满了白色的玫瑰花。这里看不到活的东西，除了在绿色的教堂墓地上，几头牛正在长满杂草的坟墓旁安静地休息，而且正好是在我曾经亲切怜爱的孩子的坟墓周围。孩子死去那年也是夏天，我在日出以前也同样看到了这幅场景。我看着这般熟悉的场景，突然大声地对自己说（就像我想的那样）：“太阳还远没有升起呢，今天是复活节，是人们庆祝获得复活节第一批果实的日子。我要走出门去，今天要忘记往日的悲痛，因为空气凉爽、宁静，小山也高高耸入云端，林中空地如教堂墓地一般安静，还有那露水，可以洗去我额头上的温度，然后我就再也不会不快乐了。”之后我转身，好像是要去打开花园的门，我立刻在左边看见了大不一样的场景，但是梦境的力量还是把它处理得和周围事物看起来比较协调一致了。画面里是一番东方的场景，也是在复活节的一大早。在非常远的地方可以看见一个大城市的圆屋顶和穹顶，就像是地平线上的一个斑点。这个意象，或者说是一个模糊的抽象，可能是从我童年时候看过的某张耶路撒冷的图片中捕获的。离我不到一箭之远的地方，在一棵犹太棕榈树下，一个女人坐在一块石头上面。我仔细一看，那不是安嘛！她的眼睛正认真地注视着我。我最终开口对她说：“我到底还是找到你了。”我等着她开口，可是她一个字也没有和我说。她的脸庞还是我最后一次看见的那个样子。然而，也有多么大的变化啊！十七年前，路灯照在她脸上，我最后一次亲吻她的嘴唇（安，你的嘴唇对我来说是纯洁的），她泪眼婆娑。现在她脸上的眼泪已经擦掉了，她看起来比那个时候更漂亮，其他方面还是原来那样，并没有变老。她的表情看起来很平静，但是隐含着一种独特的庄严。我现在是带着一份敬畏注视着她。忽然之间，她的面容开始变得模糊，她起身转向高山，我看见一团雾气在我们之间翻滚而来。就在瞬间，一切都消失得无影无踪，紧随其后的是沉闷厚重的一片漆黑。一眨眼的工夫，我已经远离了那些高山，又和安在牛津大街的路灯下一起散步了，就像十七年前我们还是没长大的孩子时那样。

下面，我要给你们讲最后一个梦境了，让我来说说1820年那个完全异质的梦吧。

这个梦是由一段音乐开始的，这段音乐我常在梦里听到，它是一段能够引起悬念的前奏音乐，就像是加冕仪式所奏圣歌的开篇。这样的音乐就像是一篇气势恢宏的进行曲，你能看见大队人马排成纵队整齐行进，能听到大部队数也数不清的脚步声。这是具有重大意义的一天，充满危机，也充满了对人性的最后期冀。后来忽然出现了神秘的日食，一切陷入一片昏暗，在可怕的绝境中继续劳作。某个地方——但我不知道是在哪里，以某种方式——但我不知道是什么方式，某些人——但我不知道是什么人，进行着一场战斗、拼杀、挣扎，像一场壮观的舞台剧或者一部音乐作品在逐渐演绎、展开情节。可是我连原因、地点、来龙去脉和可能的结果都搞不清楚，无法对此产生共鸣。我像往常在梦中（我们不可避免地使自己成为梦里每一个情节进展的中心）一样，有力量，也没有力量，对此做出什么裁决。我有能力行使自己的意志，是说在我能够把自己扶起来的情况下。我没有能力，是因为有二十个大西洋压在我身上使我动弹不得，或者说是一种无法解释的罪恶感让我感到备受压制。“铅锤响起来了，比以往任何时候的声音都要深沉”，我躺在那里，一动不动。然后就像合唱一样，激情随之加深。某种更大的利益也面临危险，这是一项更伟大的事业。刀剑已经请命，号角已经吹响，这时忽然传来一阵警报。不计其数的逃亡者惊恐万分，慌乱中四处奔走。我不知道他们这样做是出于什么原因。黑暗和光亮交织在一起，暴风雨和人的面孔互相切换。最终，我感觉到似乎所有的东西都消失了。这时，我看见一个女人的身形和容貌，她对我来说意味着我的全部世界。这个画面持续了一会儿，我握紧了双手，但一切还是结束了。接下来的是那令人心碎的分离，然后即是永久的告别。伴随着一声叹息——就像那位乱伦的母亲说出死亡这个令人憎恶的名字时，地狱的洞穴里发出的叹息一样，那个声音回荡在空气中。永久的告别！一次又一次地在耳边回荡——永久的告别！

我挣扎着醒来，大声喊道——“我再也不睡觉了！”

但是，现在，我不得不结束这个故事了，因为它的长度延伸得有些不尽合理了。如果再给我宽限些空间，我用过的素材还可能得到更好的呈现，而我没有用的素材也可以被有效地增添进去。但是，我想大概我讲得已经足够多了。剩下的事情就是要说一说恐惧感引起的冲突和斗争最后是如何出现转机的。读者们已经知道（从序言开端部分的第一段直到第一部分），这位瘾君子，用了这样或者那样的办法，“在解开那条捆绑着他的该死的锁链，几乎都解到最后几个锁扣了”。那他是怎么解的呢？要是按照原来的打算来叙述这一部分的话，文字就会远远超过允许的长度限制。好在我有一个可以把这一部分加以略写的令人信服的理由。以一种更为成熟的观点来看，应该说我极其不愿意，用这些平实的细节，破坏人们对历史本身的印象，甚至（虽然这只是作为其次来考虑）破坏这些细节构成的故事所产生的效果，来博得这位未被确认的瘾君子的谨慎和良知。明智的读者应该把兴趣主要放在故事迷人的力量上，而不是故事中享受阵阵快感的主体。就像这个故事，其主人公应该是鸦片，而不是那位瘾君子，鸦片才应该是兴趣围绕展开的合情合理的中心。而讲述这个故事的初衷也在于展示鸦片的神奇效用，不管是为了获得欢愉还是去除病痛。如果这个初衷得以实现，这个故事也就可以结束了。

但是有些人，一意孤行地坚持要问问这位瘾君子后来到底如何了，以及他现在的状况怎样，那么我就要做以回答。读者们知道，鸦片已经很久不能在阵阵快感上建立它的伟大帝国了，而唯有通过瘾君子试图戒断的尝试所带来的身心折磨来勉强保卫自己的领地。然而，不远离这个暴君，就会有别样的折磨伴随而至，也并不轻松，不戒掉鸦片就只能与罪恶相伴。所以，我还是应该选择戒除这条道路，因为不管这样做本身有多可怕，它总会给人以希望，期冀最后能够恢复到从前的幸福状态。一切看起来都是真实的，但这个良好的逻辑并没给作者足够的力量去付诸实践。然而，这个时候已经是危及作者生命的紧要关头了，也是危及比作者的生命更为重要的东西的紧要关头，尽管看起来作者的生活呈现出另外一种幸福。我预见到，如果我继续吸鸦片，我就一定会丢掉性命，因此我决定，如果戒除也同样痛苦，即使要死，也要死在对它的拼命摆脱中。那段时间我到底吸食了多少鸦片，我已经说不清楚了。因为我用的鸦片都是我的一个朋友为我买来的，后来，他干脆拒绝我付给他钱。所以我也根本弄不清楚那一年里自己到底吸了多少鸦片。但是，我知道，当时的用量非常不规律，每天的用量从五六十格令到一百五十格令不等。我的首要任务就是要把吸食量尽快地降到四十、三十，直至十二格令。

我胜利了，但是，读者们，请不要以为我的苦难就此结束了，也不要想象我坐在那里垂头丧气、懒散怠惰的样子。实际上，四个月过去之后，我仍然焦虑紧张、苦恼不安、心悸心痛、精疲力竭。我曾搜集过一个（詹姆士一世时期）很无辜的受害者[3]对自己被绑缚刑架所遭酷刑的动人描述，我觉得自己现在就如他一样，备受折磨。与此同时，几乎任何药物对我都不起作用，除了一位著名的爱丁堡医生给我开的一种含氨酊剂的药以外。药物在我戒除鸦片的过程中起过什么样的作用，我没有太多要讲的，即便讲出的那么一点点东西，也可能因为我本人对医药的无知，而导致对大众的误导。无论如何，这方面的东西不适合在这里讲。这个故事所包含的寓意和教训是要写给瘾君子们的，因此它的用途也必然限制在一定范围内。如果瘾君子读到这个故事的时候，会不由得害怕和发抖，那么这个故事就完成了它的使命。但是瘾君子们也有可能说，我的案例至少说明了，鸦片，即便在服用十七年，并且滥用八年之后，仍然可以被戒除掉。他可以在摆脱鸦片的过程中付出更大的努力，或者因为身体比我强壮，他也可以用较少的付出来获得同样的结果。事情可能会是这样，我不会想当然地拿自己的努力来衡量别人需要的付出。我衷心地希望他有更强的精力，希望他取得同样的胜利。但是，我在戒除的过程中有种外部动机，可能是别人所缺乏的。这个动机是个人力量所不能提供给一个被鸦片耗竭而虚弱无力的人的心灵的，它能够给我一种良知上的抚慰。

杰里米·泰勒猜测说，人的出生和死亡大概会招致同种程度的痛苦。我想有可能确实如此。在我减量服用鸦片的过程中，我经历了从一种存在形式到另一种存在形式的转变。这种变化并不意味着死亡，而是一种身体的重生。这里我还要补充一点，从那以后，我会不时地感到一种朝气蓬勃的恢复状态，虽然是在艰难的压力之下。这种压力，要不是我当时精神上的幸福感在支撑，可能会被我叫做灾难。

我从前的身体状况还是给我留下了一些纪念。我的梦境并不是完全平静安宁的，时常还会有恐惧感涌现出来，暴风雨给我带来的焦虑不安也没有完全平息下去。在梦里安营扎寨的罗马军团正在撤退，但是没有完全消失不见。我的梦境依然喧闹嘈杂，就像我们的祖先从远处回望伊甸园的大门时看到的景象。那里依然（引用弥尔顿的绝妙诗行）——

挤满了可怕的面孔和杀气腾腾的武器。

————————————————————

[1] 读者们一定要记住我这里的“思考”作何解释，因为如果你不明白，它就成了—个非常自以为是的词了。近年来，在创造性和结合性的思考方面，英国出现了非常多的思想家，但分析性的、有胆识的思想家竟然少得可怜。一位知名的苏格兰人最近跟我们说，因为缺乏勇气，他不得不连数学都放弃了。

[2] 希腊神话中弗里吉亚国王，传说狄俄尼索斯曾赋予他点石成金的法力。——译者注

[3] 威廉姆斯·李斯阁：他的书（关于旅行等内容）写得不好，风格迂腐卖弄，但他对自己在马拉加的刑讯架上所遭受的折磨描述得却十分触动人心。

Thomas De Quincey

Confessions of an English Opium Eater

PENGUIN BOOKS–GREAT IDEAS

TO THE READER. - I here present you, courteous reader, with the record of a remarkable period in my life: according to my application of it, I trust that it will prove, not merely an interesting record, but, in a considerable degree, useful and instructive. In that hope it is, that I have drawn it up: and that must be my apology for breaking through that delicate and honourable reserve, which, for the most part, restrains us from the public exposure of our own errors and infirmities. Nothing, indeed, is more revolting to English feelings, than the spectacle of a human being obtruding on our notice his moral ulcers or scars, and tearing away that 'decent drapery,' which time, or indulgence to human frailty, may have drawn over them: accordingly, the greater part of our confessions (that is, spontaneous and extra-judicial confessions) proceed from demireps, adventurers, or swindlers: and for any such acts of gratuitous self-humiliation from those who can be supposed in sympathy with the decent and self-respecting part of society, we must look to French literature, or to that part of the German, which is tainted with the spurious and defective sensibility of the French. All this I feel so forcibly, and so nervously am I alive to reproach of this tendency, that I have for many months hesitated about the propriety of allowing this, or any part of my narrative, to come before the public eye, until after my death (when, for many reasons, the whole will be published): and it is not without an anxious review of the reasons, for and against this step, that I have, at last, concluded on taking it.

Guilt and misery shrink, by a natural instinct, from public notice: they court privacy and solitude: and, even in their choice of a grave, will sometimes sequester themselves from the general population of the churchyard, as if declining to claim fellowship with the great family of man, and wishing (in the affecting language of Mr Wordsworth)

-Humbly to express

A penitential loneliness.

It is well, upon the whole, and for the interest of us all, that it should be so: nor would I willingly, in my own person, manifest a disregard of such salutary feelings; nor in act or word do anything to weaken them. But, on the one hand, as my self-accusation does not amount to a confession of guilt, so, on the other, it is possible that, if it did, the benefit resulting to others, from the record of an experience purchased at so heavy a price, might compensate, by a vast overbalance, for any violence done to the feelings I have noticed, and justify a breach of the general rule. Infirmity and misery do not, of necessity, imply guilt. They approach, or recede from, the shades of that dark alliance, in proportion to the probable motives and prospects of the offender, and the palliations, known or secret, of the offence: in proportion as the temptations to it were potent from the first, and the resistance to it, in act or in effort, was earnest to the last. For my own part, without breach of truth or modesty, I may affirm, that my life has been, on the whole, the life of a philosopher: from my birth I was made an intellectual creature: and intellectual in the highest sense my pursuits and pleasures have been, even from my school-boy days. If opium-eating be a sensual pleasure, and if I am bound to confess that I have indulged in it to an excess, not yet recorded[*] of any other man, it is no less true, that I have struggled against this fascinating enthralment with a religious zeal, and have, at length, accomplished what I never yet heard attributed to any other man - have untwisted, almost to its final links, the accursed chain which fettered me. Such a self-conquest may reasonably be set off in counterbalance to any kind of degree of self-indulgence. Not to insist, that in my case, the self-conquest was unquestionable, the self-indulgence open to doubts of casuistry, according as that name shall be extended to acts aiming at the bare relief of pain, or shall be restricted to such as aim at the excitement of positive pleasure.

Guilt, therefore, I do not acknowledge: and, if I did, it is possible that I might still resolve on the present act of confession, in consideration of the service which I may thereby render to the Whole class of opium-eaters. But who are they? Reader, I am sorry to say, a very numerous class indeed. Of this I became convinced some years ago, by computing, at that time, the number of those in one small class of English society (the class of men distinguished for talents, or of eminent station), who were known to me, directly or indirectly, as opium-eaters; such for instance, as the eloquent and benevolent ——,the late dean of ——; Lord——; Mr——, the philosopher; a late under-secretary of state (who described to me the sensation which first drove him to the use of opium, in the very same words as the dean of——, viz. 'that he felt as though rats were gnawing and abrading the coats of his stomach') ; Mr——; and many others, hardly less known, whom it would be tedious to mention. Now, if one class, comparatively so limited, could furnish so many scores of cases (and that within the knowledge of one single inquirer), it was a natural inference, that the entire population of England would furnish a proportionable number. The soundness of this inference, however, I doubted, until some facts became known to me, which satisfied me, that it was not incorrect. I will mention two: 1. Three respectable London druggists, in widely remote quarters of London, from whom I happened lately to be purchasing small quantities of opium, assured me, that the number of amateur opium-eaters (as I may term them) was, at this time, immense; and that the difficulty of distinguishing these persons, to whom habit had rendered opium necessary, from such as were purchasing it with a view to suicide, occasioned them daily trouble and disputes. This evidence respected London only. But, 2. (which will possibly surprise the reader more,) some years ago, on passing through Manchester, I was informed by several cotton-manufacturers, that their work-people were rapidly getting into the practice of opium-eating; so much so, that on a Saturday afternoon the counters of the druggists were strewed with pills of one, two, or three grains, in preparation for the known demand of the evening. The immediate occasion of this practice was the lowness of wages, which, at that time, would not allow them to indulge in ale or spirits: and, wages rising, it may be thought that this practice would cease: but, as I do not readily believe that any man, having once tasted the divine luxuries of opium, will afterwards descend to the gross and mortal enjoyments of alcohol, I take it for granted,

That those eat now, who never ate before;

And those who always ate, now eat the more.

Indeed the fascinating powers of opium are admitted, even by medical writers, who are its greatest enemies: thus, for instance, Awsiter, apothecary to Greenwich-hospital, in his 'Essay on the Effects of Opium' (published in the year 1763), when attempting to explain, why Mead had not been sufficiently explicit on the properties, counteragents, &c. of this drug, expresses himself in the following mysterious terms(φωνντα συνετοσι) ; [sayings 'that speak to the wise'] 'perhaps he thought the subject of too delicate a nature to be made common; and as many people might then indiscriminately use it, it would take from that necessary fear and caution, which should prevent their experiencing the extensive power of this drug: for there are many properties in it, if universally known, that would habituate the use, and make it more in request with us than the Turks themselves: the result of which knowledge,' he adds, 'must prove a general misfortune.' In the necessity of this conclusion I do not altogether concur: but upon that point I shall have occasion to speak at the close of my confessions, where I shall present the reader with the moral of my narrative.

————————————————————

* 'Not yet recorded,' I say: for there is one celebrated man of the present day, who, if all be true which is reported of him, has greatly exceeded me in quantity.

Preliminary Confessions

[Part I]

These preliminary confessions, or introductory narrative of the youthful adventures which laid the foundation of the writer's habit of opium-eating in after-life, it has been judged proper to premise, for three several reasons:

1. As forestalling that question, and giving it a satisfactory answer, which else would painfully obtrude itself in the course of the Opium-Confessions - 'How came any reasonable being to subject himself to such a yoke of misery, voluntarily to incur a captivity so servile, and knowingly to fetter himself with such a seven-fold chain?' - a question which, if not somewhere plausibly resolved, could hardly fail, by the indignation which it would be apt to raise as against an act of wanton folly, to interfere with that degree of sympathy which is necessary in any case to an author's purposes.

2. As furnishing a key to some parts of that tremendous scenery which afterwards peopled the dreams of the Opium-eater.

3. As creating some previous interest of a personal sort in the confessing subject, apart from the matter of the confessions, which cannot fail to render the confessions themselves more interesting. If a man 'whose talk is of oxen,' should become an Opium-eater, the probability is, that (if he is not too dull to dream at all) - he will dream about oxen: whereas, in the case before him, the reader will find that the Opium-eater boasteth himself to be a philosopher: and accordingly, that the phantasmagoria of his dreams (waking or sleeping, day-dreams or night-dreams) is suitable to one who in that character,

Humani nihil a se alienum putat.

['He deems nothing that is human foreign to him']

For amongst the conditions which he deems indispensable to the sustaining of any claim to the title of philosopher, is not merely the possession of a superb intellect in its analytic functions (in which part of the pretension, however, England can for some generations show but few claimants; at least, he is not aware of any known candidate for this honour who can be styled emphatically a subtle thinker, with the exception of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and in a narrower department of thought, with the recent illustrious exception[*] of David Ricardo) - but also on such a constitution of the moral faculties, as shall give him an inner eye and power of intuition for the vision and the mysteries of our human nature: that constitution of faculties, in short, which (amongst all the generations of men that from the beginning of time have deployed into life, as it were, upon this planet) our English poets have possessed in the highest degree - and Scottish[*] Professors in the lowest.

I have often been asked, how I first came to be a regular opium-eater; and have suffered, very unjustly, in the opinion of my acquaintance, from being reputed to have brought upon myself all the sufferings which I shall have to record, by a long course of indulgence in this practice purely for the sake of creating an artificial state of pleasurable excitement. This, however, is a misrepresentation of my case. True it is, that for nearly ten years I did occasionally take opium, for the sake of the exquisite pleasure it gave me: but, so long as I took it with this view, I was effectually protected from all material bad consequences, by the necessity of interposing long intervals between the several acts of indulgence, in order to renew the pleasurable sensations. It was not for the purpose of creating pleasure, but of mitigating pain in the severest degree, that I first began to use opium as an article of daily diet. In the twenty-eighth year of my age, a most painful affection of the stomach, which I had first experienced about ten years before, attacked me in great strength. This affection had originally been caused by extremities of hunger, suffered in my boyish days. During the season of hope and redundant happiness which succeeded (that is, from eighteen to twenty-four) it had slumbered: for the three following years it had revived at intervals: and now, under unfavourable circumstances, from depression of spirits, it attacked me with a violence that yielded to no remedies but opium. As the youthful sufferings, which first produced this derangement of the stomach, were interesting in themselves, and in the circumstances that attended them, I shall here briefly retrace them.

My father died, when I was about seven years old, and left me to the care of four guardians. I was sent to various schools, great and small; and was very early distinguished for my classical attainments, especially for my knowledge of Greek. At thirteen, I wrote Greek with ease; and at fifteen my command of that language was so great, that I not only composed Greek verses in lyric metres, but could converse in Greek fluently, and without embarrassment - an accomplishment which I have not since met with in any scholar of my times, and which, in my case, was owing to the practice of daily reading off the newspapers into the best Greek I could furnish extempore: for the necessity of ransacking my memory and invention, for all sorts and combinations of periphrastic expressions, as equivalents for modern ideas, images, relations of things, &c. gave me a compass of diction which would never have been called out by a dull translation of moral essays, &c. 'That boy,' said one of my masters, pointing the attention of a stranger to me, 'that boy could harangue an Athenian mob, better than you or I could address an English one.' He who honoured me with this eulogy, was a scholar, 'and a ripe and good one:' and of all my tutors, was the only one whom I loved or reverenced. Unfortunately for me (and, as I afterwards learned, to this worthy man's great indignation), I was transferred to the care, first of a blockhead, who was in a perpetual panic, lest I should expose his ignorance; and finally, to that of a respectable scholar, at the head of a great school on an ancient foundation. This man had been appointed to his situation by——College, Oxford; and was a sound, well-built scholar, but (like most men, whom I have known from that college) coarse, clumsy, and inelegant. A miserable contrast he presented, in my eyes, to the Etonian brilliancy of my favourite master: and besides, he could not disguise from my hourly notice, the poverty and meagreness of his understanding. It is a bad thing for a boy to be, and to know himself, far beyond his tutors, whether in knowledge or in power of mind. This was the case, so far as regarded knowledge at least, not with myself only: for the two boys, who jointly with myself composed the first form, were better Grecians than the head master, though not more elegant scholars, nor at all more accustomed to sacrifice to the graces. When I first entered, I remember that we read Sophocles; and it was a constant matter of triumph to us, the learned triumvirate of the first forms, to see our 'Archididascalus' ['Head master'] (as he loved to be called) conning our lesson before we went up, and laying a regular train, with lexicon and grammar, for blowing up and blasting (as it were) any difficulties he found in the choruses; whilst we never condescended to open our books, until the moment of going up, and were generally employed in writing epigrams upon his wig, or some such important matter. My two class-fellows were poor, and dependent for their future prospects at the university, on the recommendation of the head-master: but I, who had a small patrimonial property, the income of which was sufficient to support me at college, wished to be sent thither immediately. I made earnest representations on the subject to my guardians, but all to no purpose. One, who was more reasonable, and had more knowledge of the world than the rest, lived at a distance: two of the other three resigned all their authority into the hands of the fourth; and this fourth with whom I had to negotiate, was a worthy man, in his way, but haughty, obstinate, and intolerant of all opposition to his will. After a certain number of letters and personal interviews, I found that I had nothing to hope for, not even a compromise of the matter, from my guardian: unconditional submission was what he demanded: and I prepared myself, therefore, for other measures. Summer was now coming on with hasty steps, and my seventeenth birth-day was fast approaching; after which day I had sworn within myself, that I would no longer be numbered amongst schoolboys. Money being what I chiefly wanted, I wrote to a woman of high rank, who, though young herself, had known me from a child, and had latterly treated me with great distinction, requesting that she would 'lend' me five guineas. For upwards of a week no answer came; and I was beginning to despond, when, at length, a servant put into my hands a double letter, with a coronet on the seal. The letter was kind and obliging: the fair writer was on the sea-coast, and in that way the delay had arisen: she inclosed double of what I had asked, and good-naturedly hinted, that if I should never repay her, it would not absolutely ruin her. Now then, I was prepared for my scheme: ten guineas, added to about two which I had remaining from my pocket money, seemed to be sufficient for an indefinite length of time: and at that happy age, if no definite boundary can be assigned to one's power, the spirit of hope and pleasure makes it virtually infinite.

It is a just remark of Dr Johnson's (and what cannot often be said of his remarks, it is a very feeling one), that we never do any thing consciously for the last time (of things, that is, which we have long been in the habit of doing) without sadness of heart. This truth I felt deeply, when I came to leave ——, a place which I did not love, and where I had not been happy. On the evening before I left ——for ever, I grieved when the ancient and lofty school-room resounded with the evening service, performed for the last time in my hearing; and at night, when the muster-roll of names was called over, and mine (as usual) was called first, I stepped forward, and, passing the head-master, who was standing by, I bowed to him, and looked earnestly in his face, thinking to myself, 'He is old and infirm, and in this world I shall not see him again.' I was right: I never did see him again, nor ever shall. He looked at me complacently, smiled good-naturedly, returned my salutation (or rather, my valediction), and we parted (though he knew it not) for ever. I could not reverence him intellectually: but he had been uniformly kind to me, and had allowed me many indulgences: and I grieved at the thought of the mortification I should inflict upon him.

The morning came, which was to launch me into the world, and from which my whole succeeding life has, in many important points, taken its colouring. I lodged in the head-master's house, and had been allowed, from my first entrance, the indulgence of a private room, which I used both as a sleeping room and as a study. At half after three I rose, and gazed with deep emotion at the ancient towers of——, 'drest in earliest light,' and beginning to crimson with the radiant lustre of a cloudless July morning. I was firm and immovable in my purpose: but yet agitated by anticipation of uncertain danger and troubles; and, if I could have foreseen the hurricane, and perfect hailstorm of affliction which soon fell upon me, well might I have been agitated. To this agitation the deep peace of the morning presented an affecting contrast, and in some degree a medicine. The silence was more profound than that of midnight: and to me the silence of a summer morning is more touching than all other silence, because, the light being broad and strong, as that of noon-day at other seasons of the year, it seems to differ from perfect day, chiefly because man is not yet abroad; and thus, the peace of nature, and of the innocent creatures of God, seems to be secure and deep, only so long as the presence of man, and his restless and unquiet spirit, are not there to trouble its sanctity. I dressed myself, took my hat and gloves, and lingered a little in the room. For the last year and a half this room had been my 'pensive citadel:' here I had read and studied through all the hours of night: and, though true it was, that for the latter part of this time I, who was framed for love and gentle affections, had lost my gaiety and happiness, during the strife and fever of contention with my guardian; yet, on the other hand, as a boy, so passionately fond of books, and dedicated to intellectual pursuits, I could not fail to have enjoyed many happy hours in the midst of general dejection. I wept as I looked round on the chair, hearth, writing-table, and other familiar objects, knowing too certainly, that I looked upon them for the last time. Whilst I write this, it is eighteen years ago: and yet, at this moment, I see distinctly as if it were yesterday, the lineaments and expression of the object on which I fixed my parting gaze: it was a picture of the lovely ——, which hung over the mantle-piece; the eyes and mouth of which were so beautiful, and the whole countenance so radiant with benignity, and divine tranquillity, that I had a thousand times laid down my pen, or my book, to gather consolation from it, as a devotee from his patron saint. Whilst I was yet gazing upon it, the deep tones of——clock proclaimed that it was four o'clock. I went up to the picture, kissed it, and then gently walked out, and closed the door for ever!

So blended and intertwisted in this life are occasions of laughter and of tears, that I cannot yet recal, without smiling, an incident which occurred at that time, and which had nearly put a stop to the immediate execution of my plan. I had a trunk of immense weight; for, besides my clothes, it contained nearly all my library. The difficulty was to get this removed to a carrier's: my room was at an aerial elevation in the house, and (what was worse) the stair-case, which communicated with this angle of the building, was accessible only by a gallery, which passed the head-master's chamber-door. I was a favourite with all the servants; and, knowing that any of them would screen me, and act confidentially, I communicated my embarrassment to a groom of the head-master's. The groom swore he would do any thing I wished; and, when the time arrived, went up stairs to bring the trunk down. This I feared was beyond the strength of any one man: however, the groom was a man -

Of Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear

The weight of mightiest monarchies;

and had a back as spacious as Salisbury plain. Accordingly he persisted in bringing down the trunk alone, whilst I stood waiting at the foot of the last flight, in anxiety for the event. For some time I heard him descending with slow and firm steps: but, unfortunately, from his trepidation, as he drew near the dangerous quarter, within a few steps of the gallery, his foot slipped; and the mighty burden falling from his shoulders, gained such increase of impetus at each step of the descent, that, on reaching the bottom, it trundled, or rather leaped, right across, with the noise of twenty devils, against the very bedroom door of the archididascalus. My first thought was, that all was lost; and that my only chance for executing a retreat was to sacrifice my baggage. However, on reflection, I determined to abide the issue. The groom was in the utmost alarm, both on his own account and on mine: but, in spite of this, so irresistibly had the sense of the ludicrous, in this unhappy contretems, taken possession of his fancy, that he sang out a long, loud, and canorous peal of laughter, that might have wakened the Seven Sleepers. At the sound of this resonant merriment, within the very ears of insulted authority, I could not myself forbear joining in it: subdued to this, not so much by the unhappy étourderie [a careless mistake] of the trunk, as by the effect it had upon the groom. We both expected, as a matter of course, that Dr——would sally out of his room: for, in general, if but a mouse stirred, he sprang out like a mastiff from his kennel. Strange to say, however, on this occasion, when the noise of laughter had ceased, no sound, or rustling even, was to be heard in the bed-room. Dr ——had a painful complaint, which, sometimes keeping him awake, made his sleep, perhaps, when it did come, the deeper. Gathering courage from the silence, the groom hoisted his burden again, and accomplished the remainder of his descent without accident. I waited until I saw the trunk placed on a wheel-barrow, and on its road to the carrier's: then, 'with Providence my guide,' I set off on foot, - carrying a small parcel, with some articles of dress, under my arm; a favourite English poet in one pocket; and a small 12mo. volume, containing about nine plays of Euripides, in the other.

It had been my intention originally to proceed to Westmoreland, both from the love I bore to that county, and on other personal accounts. Accident, however, gave a different direction to my wanderings, and I bent my steps towards North Wales.

After wandering about for some time in Denbighshire, Merionethshire, and Caernarvonshire, I took lodgings in a small neat house in B——. Here I might have staid with great comfort for many weeks; for, provisions were cheap at B——, from the scarcity of other markets for the surplus produce of a wide agricultural district. An accident, however, in which, perhaps, no offence was designed, drove me out to wander again. I know not whether my reader may have remarked, but I have often remarked, that the proudest class of people in England (or at any rate, the class whose pride is most apparent) are the families of bishops. Noblemen, and their children, carry about with them, in their very titles, a sufficient notification of their rank. Nay, their very names (and this applies also to the children of many untitled houses) are often, to the English ear, adequate exponents of high birth, or descent. Sackville, Manners, Fitzroy, Paulet, Cavendish, and scores of others, tell their own tale. Such persons, therefore, find every where a due sense of their claims already established, except among those who are ignorant of the world, by virtue of their own obscurity: 'Not to know them, argues one's self unknown.' Their manners take a suitable tone and colouring; and, for once that they find it necessary to impress a sense of their consequence upon others, they meet with a thousand occasions for moderating and tempering this sense by acts of courteous condescension. With the families of bishops it is otherwise: with them it is all up-hill work, to make known their pretensions: for the proportion of the episcopal bench, taken from noble families, is not at any time very large; and the succession to these dignities is so rapid, that the public ear seldom has time to become familiar with them, unless where they are connected with some literary reputation. Hence it is, that the children of bishops carry about with them an austere and repulsive air, indicative of claims not generally acknowledged, a sort of noli me tangere ['touch me not'] manner, nervously apprehensive of too familiar approach, and shrinking with the sensitiveness of a gouty man, from all contact with the οίπολλοί ['the masses']. Doubtless, a powerful understanding, or unusual goodness of nature, will preserve a man from such weakness: but, in general, the truth of my representation will be acknowledged: pride, if not of deeper root in such families, appears, at least, more upon the surface of their manners. Now, my landlady had been a lady's maid, or a nurse, in the family of the Bishop of——; and had but lately married away and 'settled' (as such people express it) for life. In a little town like B——, merely to have lived in the bishop's family, conferred some distinction: and my good landlady had rather more than her share of the pride I have noticed on that score. What 'my lord' said, and what 'my lord' did, how useful he was in parliament, and how indispensable at Oxford, formed the daily burden of her talk. All this I bore very well: for I was too good-natured to laugh in any body's face, and I could make an ample allowance for the garrulity of an old servant. Of necessity, however, I must have appeared in her eyes very inadequately impressed with the bishop's importance: and, perhaps, to punish me for my indifference, or possibly by accident, she one day repeated to me a conversation in which I was indirectly a party concerned. She had been to the palace to pay her respects to the family; and, dinner being over, was summoned into the dining-room. In giving an account of her household economy, she happened to mention, that she had let her apartments. Thereupon the good bishop (it seemed) had taken occasion to caution her as to her selection of inmates: 'for,' said he, 'you must recollect, Betty, that this place is in the high road to the Head; so that multitudes of Irish swindlers, running away from their debts into England - and of English swindlers, running away from their debts to the Isle of Man, are likely to take this place in their route.' This advice was certainly not without reasonable grounds: but rather fitted to be stored up for Mrs Betty's private meditations, than specially reported to me. What followed, however, was somewhat worse: - 'Oh, my lord,' answered my landlady (according to her own representation of the matter), 'I really don't think this young gentleman is a swindler; because - :' 'You don't think me a swindler?' said I, interrupting her, in a tumult of indignation: 'for the future I shall spare you the trouble of thinking about it.' And without delay I prepared for my departure. Some concessions the good woman seemed disposed to make: but a harsh and contemptuous expression, which I fear that I applied to the learned dignitary himself, roused her indignation in turn: and reconciliation then became impossible. I was, indeed, greatly irritated at the bishop's having suggested any grounds of suspicion, however remotely, against a person whom he had never seen: and I thought of letting him know my mind in Greek: which, at the same time that it would furnish some presumption that I was no swindler, would also (I hoped) compel the bishop to reply in the same language; in which case, I doubted not to make it appear, that if I was not so rich as his lordship, I was a far better Grecian. Calmer thoughts, however, drove this boyish design out of my mind: for I considered, that the bishop was in the right to counsel an old servant; that he could not have designed that his advice should be reported to me; and that the same coarseness of mind, which had led Mrs Betty to repeat the advice at all, might have coloured it in a way more agreeable to her own style of thinking, than to the actual expressions of the worthy bishop.

I left the lodgings the very same hour; and this turned out a very unfortunate occurrence for me: because, living henceforward at inns, I was drained of my money very rapidly. In a fortnight I was reduced to short allowance; that is, I could allow myself only one meal a-day. From the keen appetite produced by constant exercise, and mountain air, acting on a youthful stomach, I soon began to suffer greatly on this slender regimen; for the single meal, which I could venture to order, was coffee or tea. Even this, however, was at length withdrawn: and afterwards, so long as I remained in Wales, I subsisted either on blackberries, hips, haws, &c. or on the casual hospitalities which I now and then received, in return for such little services as I had an opportunity of rendering. Sometimes I wrote letters of business for cottagers, who happened to have relatives in Liverpool, or in London: more often I wrote love-letters to their sweethearts for young women who had lived as servants in Shrewsbury, or other towns on the English border. On all such occasions I gave great satisfaction to my humble friends, and was generally treated with hospitality: and once, in particular, near the village of Llan-y-styndw (or some such name), in a sequestered part of Merionethshire, I was entertained for upwards of three days by a family of young people, with an affectionate and fraternal kindness that left an impression upon my heart not yet impaired. The family consisted, at that time, of four sisters, and three brothers, all grown up, and all remarkable for elegance and delicacy of manners. So much beauty, and so much native good-breeding and refinement, I do not remember to have seen before or since in any cottage, except once or twice in Westmorland and Devonshire. They spoke English: an accomplishment not often met with in so many members of one family, especially in villages remote from the high-road. Here I wrote, on my first introduction, a letter about prize-money, for one of the brothers, who had served on board an English man of war; and more privately, two love-letters for two of the sisters. They were both interesting looking girls, and one of uncommon loveliness. In the midst of their confusion and blushes, whilst dictating, or rather giving me general instructions, it did not require any great penetration to discover that what they wished was, that their letters should be as kind as was consistent with proper maidenly pride. I contrived so to temper my expressions, as to reconcile the gratification of both feelings: and they were as much pleased with the way in which I had expressed their thoughts, as (in their simplicity) they were astonished at my having so readily discovered them. The reception one meets with from the women of a family, generally determines the tenor of one's whole entertainment. In this case, I had discharged my confidential duties as secretary, so much to the general satisfaction, perhaps also amusing them with my conversation, that I was pressed to stay with a cordiality which I had little inclination to resist. I slept with the brothers, the only unoccupied bed standing in the apartment of the young women: but in all other points, they treated me with a respect not usually paid to purses as light as mine; as if my scholarship were sufficient evidence, that I was of 'gentle blood.' Thus I lived with them for three days, and great part of a fourth: and, from the undiminished kindness which they continued to show me, I believe I might have staid with them up to this time, if their power had corresponded with their wishes. On the last morning, however, I perceived upon their countenances, as they sate at breakfast, the expression of some unpleasant communication which was at hand; and soon after one of the brothers explained to me, that their parents had gone, the day before my arrival, to an annual meeting of Methodists, held at Caernarvon, and were that day expected to return; 'and if they should not be so civil as they ought to be,' he begged, on the part of all the young people, that I would not take it amiss. The parents returned, with churlish faces, and 'Dym Sassenach' (no English), in answer to all my addresses. I saw how matters stood; and so, taking an affectionate leave of my kind and interesting young hosts, I went my way. For, though they spoke warmly to their parents on my behalf, and often excused the manner of the old people, by saying, that it was 'only their way,' yet I easily understood that my talent for writing love-letters would do as little to recommend me, with two grave sexagenarian Welsh Methodists, as my Greek Sapphics or Alcaics: and what had been hospitality, when offered to me with the gracious courtesy of my young friends, would become charity, when connected with the harsh demeanour of these old people. Certainly, Mr Shelley is right in his notions about old age: unless powerfully counteracted by all sorts of opposite agencies, it is a miserable corrupter and blighter to the genial charities of the human heart.

Soon after this, I contrived, by means which I must omit for want of room, to transfer myself to London. And now began the latter and fiercer stage of my long-sufferings; without using a disproportionate expression I might say, of my agony. For I now suffered, for upwards of sixteen weeks, the physical anguish of hunger in various degrees of intensity; but as bitter, perhaps, as ever any human being can have suffered who has survived it. I would not needlessly harass my reader's feelings, by a detail of all that I endured: for extremities such as these, under any circumstances of heaviest misconduct or guilt, cannot be contemplated, even in description, without a rueful pity that is painful to the natural goodness of the human heart. Let it suffice, at least on this occasion, to say, that a few fragments of bread from the breakfast-table of one individual (who supposed me to be ill, but did not know of my being in utter want), and these at uncertain intervals, constituted my whole support. During the former part of my sufferings (that is, generally in Wales, and always for the first two months in London) I was houseless, and very seldom slept under a roof. To this constant exposure to the open air I ascribe it mainly, that I did not sink under my torments. Latterly, however, when colder and more inclement weather came on, and when, from the length of my sufferings, I had begun to sink into a more languishing condition, it was, no doubt, fortunate for me, that the same person to whose break-fast-table I had access, allowed me to sleep in a large unoccupied house, of which he was tenant. Unoccupied, I call it, for there was no household or establishment in it; nor any furniture, indeed, except a table, and a few chairs. But I found, on taking possession of my new quarters, that the house already contained one single inmate, a poor friendless child, apparently ten years old; but she seemed hunger-bitten; and sufferings of that sort often make children look older than they are. From this forlorn child I learned, that she had slept and lived there alone, for some time before I came: and great joy the poor creature expressed, when she found that I was, in future, to be her companion through the hours of darkness. The house was large; and from the want of furniture, the noise of the rats made a prodigious echoing on the spacious stair-case and hall; and, amidst the real fleshly ills of cold, and, I fear, hunger, the forsaken child had found leisure to suffer still more (it appeared) from the self-created one of ghosts. I promised her protection against all ghosts whatsoever: but, alas! I could offer her no other assistance. We lay upon the floor, with a bundle of cursed law papers for a pillow: but with no other covering than a sort of large horseman's cloak: after-wards, however, we discovered, in a garret, an old sopha-cover, a small piece of rug, and some fragments of other articles, which added a little to our warmth. The poor child crept close to me for warmth, and for security against her ghostly enemies. When I was not more than usually ill, I took her into my arms, so that, in general, she was tolerably warm, and often slept when I could not: for, during the last two months of my sufferings, I slept much in the day-time, and was apt to fall into transient dozings at all hours. But my sleep distressed me more than my watching: for, besides the tumultuousness of my dreams (which were only not so awful as those which I shall have to describe hereafter as produced by opium), my sleep was never more than what is called dog-sleep; so that I could hear myself moaning, and was often, as it seemed to me, wakened suddenly by my own voice; and, about this time, a hideous sensation began to haunt me as soon as I fell into a slumber, which has since returned upon me, at different periods of my life, viz. a sort of twitching (I know not where, but apparently about the region of the stomach), which compelled me violently to throw out my feet for the sake of relieving it. This sensation coming on as soon as I began to sleep, and the effort to relieve it constantly awaking me, at length I slept only from exhaustion; and from increasing weakness (as I said before) I was constantly falling asleep, and constantly awaking. Meantime, the master of the house sometimes came in upon us suddenly, and very early, sometimes not till ten o'clock, sometimes not at all. He was in constant fear of bailiffs: improving on the plan of Cromwell, every night he slept in a different quarter of London; and I observed that he never failed to examine, through a private window, the appearance of those who knocked at the door, before he would allow it to be opened. He breakfasted alone: indeed, his tea equipage would hardly have admitted of his hazarding an invitation to a second person - any more than the quantity of esculent matériel, which, for the most part, was little more than a roll, or a few biscuits, which he had bought on his road from the place where he had slept. Or, if he had asked a party, as I once learnedly and facetiously observed to him - the several members of it must have stood in the relation to each other (not sate in any relation whatever) of succession, as the metaphysicians have it, and not of co-existence; in the relation of the parts of time, and not of the parts of space. During his breakfast, I generally contrived a reason for lounging in; and, with an air of as much indifference as I could assume, took up such fragments as he had left - sometimes, indeed, there were none at all. In doing this, I committed no robbery except upon the man himself, who was thus obliged (I believe) now and then to send out at noon for an extra biscuit; for, as to the poor child, she was never admitted into his study (if I may give that name to his chief depositary of parchments, law writings, &c.) ; that room was to her the Blue-beard room of the house, being regularly locked on his departure to dinner, about six o'clock, which usually was his final departure for the night. Whether this child were an illegitimate daughter of Mr——, or only a servant, I could not ascertain; she did not herself know; but certainly she was treated altogether as a menial servant. No sooner did Mr——make his appearance, than she went below stairs, brushed his shoes, coat, &c.; and, except when she was summoned to run an errand, she never emerged from the dismal Tartarus of the kitchens, &c. to the upper air, until my welcome knock at night called up her little trembling footsteps to the front door. Of her life during the day-time, however, I knew little but what I gathered from her own account at night; for, as soon as the hours of business commenced, I saw that my absence would be acceptable; and, in general, therefore, I went off and sate in the parks, or elsewhere, until night-fall.

But who, and what, meantime, was the master of the house himself? Reader, he was one of those anomalous practitioners in lower departments of the law, who - what shall I say? - who, on prudential reasons, or from necessity, deny themselves all indulgence in the luxury of too delicate a conscience: (a periphrasis which might be abridged considerably, but that I leave to the reader's taste:) in many walks of life, a conscience is a more expensive incumbrance, than a wife or a carriage; and just as people talk of 'laying down' their carriages, so I suppose my friend, Mr ——had 'laid down' his conscience for a time; meaning, doubtless, to resume it as soon as he could afford it. The inner economy of such a man's daily life would present a most strange picture, if I could allow myself to amuse the reader at his expense. Even with my limited opportunities for observing what went on, I saw many scenes of London intrigues, and complex chicanery, 'cycle and epicycle, orb in orb,' at which I sometimes smile to this day - and at which I smiled then, in spite of my misery. My situation, however, at that time, gave me little experience, in my own person, of any qualities in Mr——'s character but such as did him honour; and of his whole strange composition, I must forget every thing but that towards me he was obliging, and, to the extent of his power, generous.

That power was not, indeed, very extensive; however, in common with the rats, I sate rent free; and, as Dr Johnson has recorded, that he never but once in his life had as much wall-fruit as he could eat, so let me be grateful, that on that single occasion I had as large a choice of apartments in a London mansion as I could possibly desire. Except the Blue-beard room, which the poor child believed to be haunted, all others, from the attics to the cellars, were at our service; 'the world was all before us;' and we pitched our tent for the night in any spot we chose. This house I have already described as a large one; it stands in a conspicuous situation, and in a well-known part of London. Many of my readers will have passed it, I doubt not, within a few hours of reading this. For myself, I never fail to visit it when business draws me to London; about ten o'clock, this very night, August 15, 1821, being my birth-day - I turned aside from my evening walk, down Oxford-street, purposely to take a glance at it: it is now occupied by a respectable family; and, by the lights in the front drawing-room, I observed a domestic party, assembled perhaps at tea, and apparently cheerful and gay. Marvellous contrast in my eyes to the darkness - cold - silence - and desolation of that same house eighteen years ago, when its nightly occupants were one famishing scholar, and a neglected child. - Her, by the bye, in after years, I vainly endeavoured to trace. Apart from her situation, she was not what would be called an interesting child: she was neither pretty, nor quick in understanding, nor remarkably pleasing in manners. But, thank God! even in those years I needed not the embellishments of novel-accessaries to conciliate my affections; plain human nature, in its humblest and most homely apparel, was enough for me: and I loved the child because she was my partner in wretchedness. If she is now living, she is probably a mother, with children of her own; but, as I have said, I could never trace her.

This I regret, but another person there was at that time, whom I have since sought to trace with far deeper earnestness, and with far deeper sorrow at my failure. This person was a young woman, and one of that unhappy class who subsist upon the wages of prostitution. I feel no shame, nor have any reason to feel it, in avowing, that I was then on familiar and friendly terms with many women in that unfortunate condition. The reader needs neither smile at this avowal, nor frown. For, not to remind my classical readers of the old Latin proverb - 'Sine Cerere,' &c. ['Without bread and wine lust grows cold'], it may well be supposed that in the existing state of my purse, my connexion with such women could not have been an impure one. But the truth is, that at no time of my life have I been a person to hold myself polluted by the touch or approach of any creature that wore a human shape: on the contrary, from my very earliest youth it has been my pride to converse familiarly, more Socratico, ['in the Socratic manner'] with all human beings, man, woman, and child, that chance might fling in my way: a practice which is friendly to the knowledge of human nature, to good feelings, and to that frankness of address which becomes a man who would be thought a philosopher. For a philosopher should not see with the eyes of the poor limitary creature calling himself a man of the world, and filled with narrow and self-regarding prejudices of birth and education, but should look upon himself as a Catholic creature, and as standing in an equal relation to high and low - to educated and uneducated, to the guilty and the innocent. Being myself at that time of necessity a peripatetic, or a walker of the streets, I naturally fell in more frequently with those female peripatetics who are technically called Streetwalkers. Many of these women had occasionally taken my part against watchmen who wished to drive me off the steps of houses where I was sitting. But one amongst them, the one on whose account I have at all introduced this subject - yet no! let me not class thee, Oh noble minded Ann——, with that order of women; let me find, if it be possible, some gentler name to designate the condition of her to whose bounty and compassion, ministering to my necessities when all the world had forsaken me, I owe it that I am at this time alive. - For many weeks I had walked at nights with this poor friendless girl up and down Oxford Street, or had rested with her on steps and under the shelter of porticos. She could not be so old as myself: she told me, indeed, that she had not completed her sixteenth year. By such questions as my interest about her prompted, I had gradually drawn forth her simple history. Hers was a case of ordinary occurrence (as I have since had reason to think), and one in which, if London beneficence had better adapted its arrangements to meet it, the power of the law might oftener be interposed to protect, and to avenge. But the stream of London charity flows in a channel which, though deep and mighty, is yet noiseless and underground; not obvious or readily accessible to poor houseless wanderers: and it cannot be denied that the outside air and frame-work of London society is harsh, cruel, and repulsive. In any case, however, I saw that part of her injuries might easily have been redressed: and I urged her often and earnestly to lay her complaint before a magistrate: friendless as she was, I assured her that she would meet with immediate attention; and that English justice, which was no respecter of persons, would speedily and amply avenge her on the brutal ruffian who had plundered her little property. She promised me often that she would; but she delayed taking the steps I pointed out from time to time: for she was timid and dejected to a degree which showed how deeply sorrow had taken hold of her young heart: and perhaps she thought justly that the most upright judge, and the most righteous tribunals, could do nothing to repair her heaviest wrongs. Something, however, would perhaps have been done: for it had been settled between us at length, but unhappily on the very last time but one that I was ever to see her, that in a day or two we should go together before a magistrate, and that I should speak on her behalf. This little service it was destined, however, that I should never realize. Meantime, that which she rendered to me, and which was greater than I could ever have repaid her, was this: - One night, when we were pacing slowly along Oxford Street, and after a day when I had felt more than usually ill and faint, I requested her to turn off with me into Soho Square: thither we went; and we sate down on the steps of a house, which, to this hour, I never pass without a pang of grief, and an inner act of homage to the spirit of that unhappy girl, in memory of the noble action which she there performed. Suddenly, as we sate, I grew much worse: I had been leaning my head against her bosom; and all at once I sank from her arms and fell backwards on the steps. From the sensations I then had, I felt an inner conviction of the liveliest kind that without some powerful and reviving stimulus, I should either have died on the spot - or should at least have sunk to a point of exhaustion from which all reäscent under my friendless circumstances would soon have become hopeless. Then it was, at this crisis of my fate, that my poor orphan companion - who had herself met with little but injuries in this world - stretched out a saving hand to me. Uttering a cry of terror, but without a moment's delay, she ran off into Oxford Street, and in less time than could be imagined, returned to me with a glass of port wine and spices, that acted upon my empty stomach (which at that time would have rejected all solid food) with an instantaneous power of restoration: and for this glass the generous girl without a murmur paid out of her own humble purse at a time - be it remembered! - when she had scarcely wherewithal to purchase the bare necessaries of life, and when she could have no reason to expect that I should ever be able to reimburse her. - Oh! youthful benefactress! how often in succeeding years, standing in solitary places, and thinking of thee with grief of heart and perfect love, how often have I wished that, as in ancient times the curse of a father was believed to have a supernatural power, and to pursue its object with a fatal necessity of self-fulfilment, - even so the benediction of a heart oppressed with gratitude, might have a like prerogative; might have power given to it from above to chace - to haunt - to way-lay - to overtake - to pursue thee into the central darkness of a London brothel, or (if it were possible) into the darkness of the grave - there to awaken thee with an authentic message of peace and forgiveness, and of final reconciliation!

I do not often weep: for not only do my thoughts on subjects connected with the chief interests of man daily, nay hourly, descend a thousand fathoms 'too deep for tears;' not only does the sternness of my habits of thought present an antagonism to the feelings which prompt tears - wanting of necessity to those who, being protected usually by their levity from any tendency to meditative sorrow, would by that same levity be made incapable of resisting it on any casual access of such feelings: - but also, I believe that all minds which have contemplated such objects as deeply as I have done, must, for their own protection from utter despondency, have early encouraged and cherished some tranquilizing belief as to the future balances and the hieroglyphic meanings of human sufferings. On these accounts, I am cheerful to this hour: and, as I have said, I do not often weep. Yet some feelings, though not deeper or more passionate, are more tender than others: and often, when I walk at this time in Oxford Street by dreamy lamp-light, and hear those airs played on a barrel-organ which years ago solaced me and my dear companion (as I must always call her) I shed tears, and muse with myself at the mysterious dispensation which so suddenly and so critically separated us for ever. How it happened, the reader will understand from what remains of this introductory narration.

Soon after the period of the last incident I have recorded, I met, in Albermarle Street, a gentleman of his late Majesty's household. This gentleman had received hospitalities, on different occasions, from my family: and he challenged me upon the strength of my family likeness. I did not attempt any disguise: I answered his questions ingenuously, - and, on his pledging his word of honor that he would not betray me to my guardians, I gave him an address to my friend the Attorney's. The next day I received from him a 10l. Bank-note. The letter inclosing it was delivered with other letters of business to the Attorney: but, though his look and manner informed me that he suspected its contents, he gave it up to me honorably and without demur.

This present, from the particular service to which it was applied, leads me naturally to speak of the purpose which had allured me up to London, and which I had been (to use a forensic word) soliciting from the first day of my arrival in London, to that of my final departure.

In so mighty a world as London, it will surprise my readers that I should not have found some means of staving off the last extremities of penury: and it will strike them that two resources at least must have been open to me, - viz. either to seek assistance from the friends of my family, or to turn my youthful talents and attainments into some channel of pecuniary emolument. As to the first course, I may observe, generally, that what I dreaded beyond all other evils was the chance of being reclaimed by my guardians; not doubting that whatever power the law gave them would have been enforced against me to the utmost; that is, to the extremity of forcibly restoring me to the school which I had quitted: a restoration which as it would in my eyes have been a dishonor, even if submitted to voluntarily, could not fail, when extorted from me in contempt and defiance of my known wishes and efforts, to have been a humiliation worse to me than death, and which would indeed have terminated in death. I was, therefore, shy enough of applying for assistance even in those quarters where I was sure of receiving it - at the risk of furnishing my guardians with any clue for recovering me. But, as to London in particular, though, doubtless, my father had in his life-time had many friends there, yet (as ten years had passed since his death) I remembered few of them even by name: and never having seen London before, except once for a few hours, I knew not the address of even those few. To this mode of gaining help, therefore, in part the difficulty, but much more the paramount fear which I have mentioned, habitually indisposed me. In regard to the other mode, I now feel half inclined to join my reader in wondering that I should have overlooked it. As a corrector of Greek proofs (if in no other way), I might doubtless have gained enough for my slender wants. Such an office as this I could have discharged with an exemplary and punctual accuracy that would soon have gained me the confidence of my employers. But it must not be forgotten that, even for such an office as this, it was necessary that I should first of all have an introduction to some respectable publisher: and this I had no means of obtaining. To say the truth, however, it had never once occurred to me to think of literary labours as a source of profit. No mode sufficiently speedy of obtaining money had ever occurred to me, but that of borrowing it on the strength of my future claims and expectations. This mode I sought by every avenue to compass: and amongst other persons I applied to a Jew name D——.[*]

To this Jew, and to other advertising money-lenders (some of whom were, I believe, also Jews), I had introduced myself with an account of my expectations; which account, on examining my father's will at Doctor's Commons, they had ascertained to be correct. The person there mentioned as the second son of——, was found to have all the claims (or more than all) that I had stated: but one question still remained, which the faces of the Jews pretty significantly suggested, - was I that person? This doubt had never occurred to me as a possible one: I had rather feared, whenever my Jewish friends scrutinized me keenly, that I might be too well known to be that person - and that some scheme might be passing in their minds for entrapping me and selling me to my guardians. It was strange to me to find my own self, materialiter ['materially'] considered (so I expressed it, for I doated on logical accuracy of distinctions), accused, or at least suspected, of counterfeiting my own self, formaliter ['formally'] considered. However, to satisfy their scruples, I took the only course in my power. Whilst I was in Wales, I had received various letters from young friends: these I produced: for I carried them constantly in my pocket - being, indeed, by this time, almost the only relics of my personal incumbrances (excepting the clothes I wore) which I had not in one way or other disposed of. Most of these letters were from the Earl of——, who was at that time my chief (or rather only) confidential friend. These letters were dated from Eton. I had also some from the Marquis of ——, his father, who, though absorbed in agricultural pursuits, yet having been an Etonian himself, and as good a scholar as a nobleman needs to be - still retained an affection for classical studies, and for youthful scholars. He had, accordingly, from the time that I was fifteen, corresponded with me; sometimes upon the great improvements which he had made, or was meditating, in the counties of M——and Sl——since I had been there; sometimes upon the merits of a Latin poet; at other times, suggesting subjects to me on which he wished me to write verses.

On reading the letters, one of my Jewish friends agreed to furnish two or three hundred pounds on my personal security - provided I could persuade the young Earl, who was, by the way, not older than myself, to guarantee the payment on our coming of age: the Jew's final object being, as I now suppose, not the trifling profit he could expect to make by me, but the prospect of establishing a connection with my noble friend, whose immense expectations were well known to him. In pursuance of this proposal on the part of the Jew, about eight or nine days after I had received the 10l., I prepared to go down to Eton. Nearly 3l. of the money I had given to my money-lending friend, on his alleging that the stamps must be bought, in order that the writings might be preparing whilst I was away from London. I thought in my heart that he was lying; but I did not wish to give him any excuse for charging his own delays upon me. A smaller sum I had given to my friend the attorney (who was connected with the money-lenders as their lawyer), to which, indeed, he was entitled for his unfurnished lodgings. About fifteen shillings I had employed in reestablishing (though in a very humble way) my dress. Of the remainder I gave one quarter to Ann, meaning on my return to have divided with her whatever might remain. These arrangements made, - soon after six o'clock, on a dark winter evening, I set off, accompanied by Ann, towards Piccadilly; for it was my intention to go down as far as Salt-hill on the Bath or Bristol Mail. Our course lay through a part of the town which has now all disappeared, so that I can no longer retrace its ancient boundaries: Swallow-street, I think it was called. Having time enough before us, however, we bore away to the left until we came into Golden-square: there, near the corner of Sherrard-street, we sat down; not wishing to part in the tumult and blaze of Piccadilly. I had told her of my plans some time before: and I now assured her again that she should share in my good fortune, if I met with any; and that I would never forsake her, as soon as I had power to protect her. This I fully intended, as much from inclination as from a sense of duty: for, setting aside gratitude, which in any case must have made me her debtor for life, I loved her as affectionately as if she had been my sister: and at this moment, with seven-fold tenderness, from pity at witnessing her extreme dejection. I had, apparently, most reason for dejection, because I was leaving the saviour of my life: yet I, considering the shock my health had received, was cheerful and full of hope. She, on the contrary, who was parting with one who had had little means of serving her, except by kindness and brotherly treatment, was overcome by sorrow; so that, when I kissed her at our final farewell, she put her arms about my neck, and wept without speaking a word. I hoped to return in a week at farthest, and I agreed with her that on the fifth night from that, and every night afterwards, she should wait for me at six o'clock, near the bottom of Great Titchfield-street, which had been our customary haven, as it were, of rendezvous, to prevent our missing each other in the great Mediterranean of Oxford-street. This and other measures of precaution I took: one only I forgot. She had either never told me, or (as a matter of no great interest) I had forgotten, her surname. It is a general practice, indeed, with girls of humble rank in her unhappy condition, not (as novel-reading women of higher pretensions) to style themselves - Miss Douglass, Miss Montague, &c. but simply by their Christian names, Mary, Jane, Frances, &c. Her surname, as the surest means of tracing her hereafter, I ought now to have inquired: but the truth is, having no reason to think that our meeting could, in consequence of a short interruption, be more difficult or uncertain than it had been for so many weeks, I had scarcely for a moment adverted to it as necessary, or placed it amongst my memoranda against this parting interview: and, my final anxieties being spent in comforting her with hopes, and in pressing upon her the necessity of getting some medicines for a violent cough and hoarseness with which she was troubled, I wholly forgot it until it was too late to recal her.

It was past eight o'clock when I reached the Gloucester Coffeehouse: and, the Bristol Mail being on the point of going off, I mounted on the outside. The fine fluent motion[*] of this Mail soon laid me asleep: it is somewhat remarkable, that the first easy or refreshing sleep which I had enjoyed for some months, was on the outside of a Mail-coach - a bed which, at this day, I find rather an uneasy one. Connected with this sleep was a little incident, which serve, as hundreds of others did at that time, to convince me how easily a man who has never been in any great distress, may pass through life without knowing, in his own person at least, anything of the possible goodness of the human heart - or, as I must add with a sigh, of its possible vileness. So thick a curtain of manners is drawn over the features and expression of men's natures, that to the ordinary observer, the two extremities, and the infinite field of varieties which lie between them, are all confounded - the vast and multitudinous compass of their several harmonies reduced to the meagre outline of differences expressed in the gamut or alphabet of elementary sounds. The case was this: for the first four or five miles from London, I annoyed my fellow passenger on the roof by occasionally falling against him when the coach gave a lurch to his side; and indeed, if the road had been less smooth and level than it is, I should have fallen off from weakness. Of this annoyance he complained heavily, as perhaps, in the same circumstances most people would; he expressed his complaint, however, more morosely than the occasion seemed to warrant; and, if I had parted with him at that moment, I should have thought of him (if I had considered it worth while to think of him at all) as a surly and almost brutal fellow. However, I was conscious that I had given him some cause for complaint: and, therefore, I apologized to him, and assured him I would do what I could to avoid falling asleep for the future; and, at the same time, in as few words as possible, I explained to him that I was ill and in a weak state from long suffering; and that I could not afford at that time to take an inside place. The man's manner changed, upon hearing this explanation, in an instant: and when I next woke for a minute from the noise and lights of Hounslow (for in spite of my wishes and efforts I had fallen asleep again within two minutes from the time I had spoken to him) I found that he had put his arm round me to protect me from falling off: and for the rest of my journey he behaved to me with the gentleness of a woman, so that, at length, I almost lay in his arms: and this was the more kind, as he could not have known that I was not going the whole way to Bath or Bristol. Unfortunately, indeed, I did go rather farther than I intended: for so genial and refreshing was my sleep, that the next time, after leaving Hounslow that I fully awoke, was upon the sudden pulling up of the Mail (possibly at a Post-office) ; and, on inquiry, I found that we had reached Maidenhead - six or seven miles, I think, a-head of Salt-hill. Here I alighted: and for the half minute that the Mail stopped, I was entreated by my friendly companion (who, from the transient glimpse I had had of him in Piccadilly, seemed to me to be a gentleman's butler - or person of that rank) to go to bed without delay. This I promised, though with no intention of doing so: and in fact, I immediately set forward, or rather backward, on foot. It must then have been nearly midnight: but so slowly did I creep along, that I heard a clock in a cottage strike four before I turned down the lane from Slough to Eton. The air and the sleep had both refreshed me; but I was weary nevertheless. I remember a thought (obvious enough, and which has been prettily expressed by a Roman poet) which gave me some consolation at that moment under my poverty. There had been some time before a murder committed on or near Hounslow-heath. I think I cannot be mistaken when I say that the name of the murdered person was Steele, and that he was the owner of a lavender plantation in that neighbourhood. Every step of my progress was bringing me nearer to the Heath: and it naturally occurred to me that I and the accursed murderer, if he were that night abroad, might at every instant be unconsciously approaching each other through the darkness: in which case, said I, - supposing I, instead of being (as indeed I am) little better than an outcast, -

Lord of my learning and no land beside,

were, like my friend, Lord——, heir by general repute to 70,000l. per ann., what a panic should I be under at this moment about my throat! - indeed, it was not likely that Lord ——should ever be in my situation. But nevertheless, the spirit of the remark remains true - that vast power an possessions make a man shamefully afraid of dying: and I am convinced that many of the most intrepid adventurers, who, by fortunately being poor, enjoy the full use of their natural courage, would, if at the very instant of going into action news were brought to them that they had unexpectedly succeeded to an estate in England of 50,000l. a year, feel their dislike to bullets considerably sharpened[*] - and their efforts at perfect equanimity and self-possession proportionably difficult. So true it is, in the language of a wise man whose own experience had made him acquainted with both fortunes, that riches are better fitted -

To slacken virtue, and abate her edge,

Than tempt her to do aught may merit praise.

Parad. Regained.

I dally with my subject because, to myself, the remembrance of these times is profoundly interesting. But my reader shall not have any further cause to complain: for I now hasten to its close. - In the road between Slough and Eton, I fell asleep: and, just as the morning began to dawn, I was awakened by the voice of a man standing over me and surveying me. I know not what he was: he was an ill-looking fellow - but not therefore of necessity an ill-meaning fellow: or, if he were, I suppose he thought that no person sleeping out-of-doors in winter could be worth robbing. In which conclusion, however, as it regarded myself, I beg to assure him, if he should be among my readers, that he was mistaken. After a slight remark he passed on: and I was not sorry at his disturbance, as it enabled me to pass through Eton before people were generally up. The night had been heavy and lowering: but towards the morning it had changed to a slight frost: and the ground and the trees were now covered with rime. I slipped through Eton unobserved; washed myself, and, as far as possible, adjusted my dress at a little public-house in Windsor; and about eight o'clock went down towards Pote's. On my road I met some junior boys of whom I made inquiries: an Etonian is always a gentleman; and, in spite of my shabby habiliments, they answered me civilly. My friend, Lord——, was gone to the University of——. 'Ibi omnis effusus labor!' ['Then all his work was for nothing! '] I had, however, other friends at Eton: but it is not to all who wear that name in prosperity that a man is willing to present himself in distress. On recollecting myself, however, I asked for the Earl of D——, to whom, (though my acquaintance with him was not so intimate as with some others) I should not have shrunk from presenting myself under any circumstances. He was still at Eton, though I believe on the wing for Cambridge. I called, was received kindly, and asked to breakfast.

Here let me stop for a moment to check my reader from any erroneous conclusions: because I have had occasion incidentally to speak of various patrician friends, it must not be supposed that I have myself any pretensions to rank or high blood. I thank God that I have not: - I am the son of a plain English merchant, esteemed during his life for his great integrity, and strongly attached to literary pursuits (indeed, he was himself, anonymously, an author): if he had lived, it was expected that he would have been very rich; but, dying prematurely, he left no more than about 30,000l. amongst seven different claimants. My mother I may mention with honour, as still more highly gifted. For, though unpretending to the name and honours of a literary woman, I shall presume to call her (what many literary women are not) an intellectual woman: and I believe that if ever her letters should be collected and published, they would be thought generally to exhibit as much strong and masculine sense, delivered in as pure 'mother English,' racy and fresh with idiomatic graces, as any in our language - hardly excepting those of lady M. W. Montague. - These are my honours of descent: I have no others: and I have thanked God sincerely that I have not, because, in my judgment, a station which raises a man too eminently above the level of his fellow-creatures is not the most favourable to moral, or to intellectual qualities.

Lord D——placed before me a most magnificent breakfast. It was really so; but in my eyes it seemed trebly magnificent - from being the first regular meal, the first 'good man's table', that I had sate down to for months. Strange to say, however, I could scarcely eat any thing. On the day when I first received my 10l. Bank-note, I had gone to a baker's shop and bought a couple of rolls: this very shop I had two months or six weeks before surveyed with an eagerness of desire which it was almost humiliating to me to recollect. I remembered the story about Otway; and feared that there might be danger in eating too rapidly. But I had no need for alarm, my appetite was quite sunk, and I became sick before I had eaten half of what I had bought. This effect from eating what approached to a meal, I continued to feel for weeks: or, when I did not experience any nausea, part of what I ate was rejected, sometimes with acidity, sometimes immediately, and without any acidity. On the present occasion, at Lord D——'s table, I found myself not at all better than usual: and, in the midst of luxuries, I had no appetite. I had, however, unfortunately at all times a craving for wine: I explained my situation, therefore, to Lord D——, and gave him a short account of my late sufferings, at which he expressed great compassion, and called for wine. This gave me a momentary relief and pleasure; and on all occasions when I had an opportunity, I never failed to drink wine - which I worshipped then as I have since worshipped opium. I am convinced, however, that this indulgence in wine contributed to strengthen my malady; for the tone of my stomach was apparently quite sunk; but by a better regimen it might sooner, and perhaps effectually, have been revived. I hope that it was not from this love of wine that I lingered in the neighbourhood of my Eton friends: I persuaded myself then that it was from reluctance to ask of Lord D——, on whom I was conscious I had not sufficient claims, the particular service in quest of which I had come down to Eton. I was, however, unwilling to lose my journey, and - I asked it. Lord D——, whose good nature was unbounded, and which, in regard to myself, had been measured rather by his compassion perhaps for my condition, and his knowledge of my intimacy with some of his relatives, than by an over-rigorous inquiry into the extent of my own direct claims, faltered, nevertheless, at this request. He acknowledged that he did not like to have any dealings with money-lenders, and feared lest such a transaction might come to the ears of his connexions. Moreover, he doubted whether his signature, whose expectations were so much more bounded than those of——, would avail with my unchristian friends. However, he did not wish, as it seemed, to mortify me by an absolute refusal: for after a little consideration, he promised, under certain conditions which he pointed out, to give his security. Lord D——was at this time not eighteen years of age: but I have often doubted, on recollecting since the good sense and prudence which on this occasion he mingled with so much urbanity of manner (an urbanity which in him wore the grace of youthful sincerity), whether any statesman - the oldest and the most accomplished in diplomacy - could have acquitted himself better under the same circumstances. Most people, indeed, cannot be addressed on such a business, without surveying you with looks as austere and unpropitious as those of a Saracen's head.

Recomforted by this promise, which was not quite equal to the best, but far above the worst that I had pictured to myself as possible, I returned in a Windsor coach to London three days after I had quitted it. And now I come to the end of my story: - the Jews did not approve of Lord D——' s terms; whether they would in the end have acceded to them, and were only seeking time for making due inquiries, I know not; but many delays were made - time passed on - the small fragments of my bank note had just melted away; and before any conclusion could have been put to the business, I must have relapsed into my former state of wretchedness. Suddenly, however, at this crisis, an opening was made, almost by accident, for reconciliation with my friends. I quitted London, in haste, for a remote part of England: after some time, I proceeded to the university; and it was not until many months had passed away, that I had it in my power again to re-visit the ground which had become so interesting to me, and to this day remains so, as the chief scene of my youthful sufferings.

Meantime, what had become of poor Ann? For her I have reserved my concluding words: according to our agreement, I sought her daily, and waited for her every night, so long as I staid in London, at the corner of Titchfield-street. I inquired for her of every one who was likely to know her; and, during the last hours of my stay in London, I put into activity every means of tracing her that my knowledge of London suggested, and the limited extent of my power made possible. The street where she had lodged I knew, but not the house; and I remembered at last some account which she had given me of ill treatment from her landlord, which made it probable that she had quitted those lodgings before we parted. She had few acquaintance; most people, besides, thought that the earnestness of my inquiries arose from motives which moved their laughter, or their slight regard; and others, thinking I was in chase of a girl who had robbed me some trifles, were naturally and excusably indisposed to give me any clue to her, if, indeed, they had any to give. Finally, as my despairing resource, on the day I left London I put into the hands of the only person who (I was sure) must know Ann by sight, from having been in company with us once or twice, an address to —— in ——shire, at that time the residence of my family. But, to this hour, I have never heard a syllable about her. This, amongst such troubles as most men meet with in this life, has been my heaviest affliction. - If she lived, doubtless we must have been sometimes in search of each other, at the very same moment, through the mighty labyrinths of London; perhaps, even within a few feet of each other - a barrier no wider in a London street, often amounting in the end to a separation for eternity! During some years, I hoped that she did live; and I suppose that, in the literal and unrhetorical use of the word myriad, I may say that on my different visits to London, I have looked into many, many myriads of female faces, in the hope of meeting her. I should know her again amongst a thousand, if I saw her for a moment; for, though not handsome, she had a sweet expression of countenance, and a peculiar and graceful carriage of the head. - I sought her, I have said, in hope. So it was for years; but now I should fear to see her; and her cough, which grieved me when I parted with her, is now my consolation. I now wish to see her no longer; but think of her, more gladly, as one long since laid in the grave; in the grave, I would hope, of a Magdalen; taken away, before injuries and cruelty had blotted out and transfigured her ingenuous nature, or the brutalities of ruffians had completed the ruin they had begun.

Part II

So then, Oxford-street, stony-hearted step-mother! thou that listenest to the sighs of orphans, and drinkest the tears of children, at length I was dismissed from thee: the time was come at last that I no more should pace in anguish thy never-ending terraces; no more should dream, and wake in captivity to the pangs of hunger. Successors, too many, to myself and Ann, have, doubtless, since then trodden in our footsteps - inheritors of our calamities: other orphans than Ann have sighed: tears have been shed by other children: and thou, Oxford-street, hast since, doubtless, echoed to the groans of innumerable hearts. For myself, however, the storm which I had outlived seemed to have been the pledge of a long fair-weather; the premature sufferings which I had paid down, to have been accepted as a ransom for many years to come, as a price of long immunity from sorrow: and if again I walked in London, a solitary and contemplative man (as oftentimes I did), I walked for the most part in serenity and peace of mind. And, although it is true that the calamities of my noviciate in London had struck root so deeply in my bodily constitution that afterwards they shot up and flourished afresh, and grew into a noxious umbrage that has overshadowed and darkened my latter years, yet these second assaults of suffering were met with a fortitude more confirmed, with the resources of a maturer intellect, and with alleviations from sympathizing affection - how deep and tender!

Thus, however, with whatsoever alleviations, years that were far asunder were bound together by subtle links of suffering derived from a common root. And herein I notice an instance of the short-sightedness of human desires, that oftentimes on moonlight nights, during my first mournful abode in London, my consolation was (if such it could be thought) to gaze from Oxford-street up every avenue in succession which pierces through the heart of Marylebone to the fields and the woods; for that, said I, travelling with my eyes up the long vistas which lay part in light and part in shade, 'that is the road to the North, and therefore to ——, and if I had the wings of a dove, that way I would fly for comfort.' Thus I said, and thus I wished, in my blindness; yet, even in that very northern region it was, even in that very valley, nay, in that very house to which my erroneous wishes pointed, that this second birth of my sufferings began; and that they again threatened to besiege the citadel of life and hope. There it was, that for years I was persecuted by visions as ugly, and as ghastly phantoms as ever haunted the couch of an Orestes: and in this unhappier than he, that sleep, which comes to all as a respite and a restoration, and to him especially, as a blessed[*] balm for his wounded heart and his haunted brain, visited me as my bitterest scourge. Thus blind was I in my desires; yet, if a veil interposes between the dim-sightedness of man and his future calamities, the same veil hides from him their alleviations; and a grief which had not been feared is met by consolations which had not been hoped. I, therefore, who participated, as it were, in the troubles of Orestes (excepting only in his agitated conscience), participated no less in all his supports: my Eumenides, like his, were at my bed-feet, and stared in upon me through the curtains: but, watching by my pillow, or defrauding herself of sleep to bear me company through the heavy watches of the night, sate my Electra: for thou, beloved M., dear companion of my later years, thou wast my Electra! and neither in nobility of mind nor in long-suffering affection, wouldst permit that a Grecian sister should excel an English wife. For thou thoughtst not much to stoop to humble offices of kindness, and to servile[†] ministrations of tenderest affection; - to wipe away for years the unwholesome dews upon the forehead, or to refresh the lips when parched and baked with fever; nor, even when thy own peaceful slumbers had by long sympathy become infected with the spectacle of my dread contest with phantoms and shadowy enemies that oftentimes bade me 'sleep no more!' - not even then, didst thou utter a complaint or any murmur, nor withdraw thy angelic smiles, nor shrink from thy service of love more than Electra did of old. For she too, though she was a Grecian woman, and the daughter of the king[*] of men, yet wept sometimes, and hid her face[†] in her robe.

But these troubles are past: and thou wilt read these records of a period so dolorous to us both as the legend of some hideous dream that can return no more. Meantime, I am again in London: and again I pace the terraces of Oxford-street by night: and oftentimes, when I am oppressed by anxieties that demand all my philosophy and the comfort of thy presence to support, and yet remember that I am separated from thee by three hundred miles, and the length of three dreary months, - I look up the streets that run northwards from Oxford-street, upon moonlight nights, and recollect my youthful ejaculation of anguish; - and remembering that thou art sitting alone in that same valley, and mistress of that very house to which my heart turned in its blindness nineteen years ago, I think that, though blind indeed, and scattered to the winds of late, the promptings of my heart may yet have had reference to a remoter time, and may be justified if read in another meaning: - and, if I could allow myself to descend again to the impotent wishes of childhood, I should again say to myself, as I look to the north, 'Oh, that I had the wings of a dove -' and with how just a confidence in thy good and gracious nature might I add the other half of my early ejaculation - 'And that way I would fly for comfort.'

————————————————————

* A third exception might perhaps have been added: and my reason for not adding that exception is chiefly because it was only in his juvenile efforts that the writer whom l allude to, expressly addressed himself to philosophical themes; his riper powers having been all dedicated (on very excusable and very intelligible grounds, under the present direction of the popular mind in England) to criticism and the Fine Arts. This reason apart, however, I doubt whether he is not rather to be considered an acute thinker than a subtle one. It is, besides, a great drawback on his mastery over philosophical subjects, that he has obviously not had the advantage of a regular scholastic education: he has not read Plato in his youth (which most likely was only his misfortune); but neither has he read Kant in his manhood (which is his fault).

* I disclaim any allusion to existing professors, of whom indeed I know only one.

* To this same Jew, by the way, some eighteen months afterwards, I applied again on the same business; and, dating at that time from a respectable college, I was fortunate enough to gain his serious attention to my proposals. My necessities had not arisen from any extravagance, or youthful levities (these my habits and the nature of my pleasures raised me far above), but simply from the vindictive malice of my guardian, who, when he found himself no longer able to prevent me from going to the university, had, as a parting token of his good nature, refused to sign an order for granting me a shilling beyond the allowance made to me at school - viz. 100l. per ann. Upon this sum it was, in my time, barely possible to have lived in college; and not possible to a man who, though above the paltry affectation of ostentatious disregard for money, and without any expensive tastes, confided nevertheless rather too much in servants, and did not delight in the petty details of minute economy. I soon, therefore, became embarrassed: and at length, after a most voluminous negotiation with the Jew, (some parts of which, if I had leisure to rehearse them, would greatly amuse my readers), I was put in possession of the sum I asked for - on the 'regular' terms of paying the Jew seventeen and a half per cent. by way of annuity on all the money furnished; Israel, on his part, graciously resuming no more than about ninety guineas of the said money, on account of an Attorney's bill, (for what services, to whom rendered, and when, whether at the siege of Jerusalem - at the building of the Second Temple - or on some earlier occasion, I have not yet been able to discover). How many perches this bill measured I really forget: but I still keep it in a cabinet of natural curiosities; and sometime or other I believe I shall present it to the British Museum.

* The Bristol Mail is the best appointed in the kingdom - owing to the double advantage of an unusually good road, and of an extra sum for expenses subscribed by the Bristol merchants.

* It will be objected that many men, of the highest rank and wealth, have in our own day, as well as throughout our history, been amongst the foremost in courting danger in battle. True: but this is not the case supposed: long familiarity with power has to them deadened its effect and its attractions.

* φίλον ὕπνου θέλγητϱον, ἐπίκουϱον νόσου.[O 'sweet charm of sleep, helper in times of sickness']

† ἡδὺ δούλευμα. ['Sweet service']

* ἄναξ ἀνδϱν 'Αγαμέμνων. ['Agamemnon, King of Men']

† όμμα θεσ' εἴσω πέπλων. ['covering her face with her robe'] The scholar will know that throughout this passage I refer to the early scenes of the Orestes; one of the most beautiful exhibitions of the domestic affections which even the drama of Euripides can furnish. To the English reader, it may be necessary to say, that the situation at the opening of the drama is that of a brother attended only by his sister during the demoniacal possession of a suffering conscience (or, in the mythology of the play, haunted by the Furies), and in circumstances of immediate danger from enemies, and of desertion or cold regard from nominal friends.

The Pleasures of Opium

It is so long since I first took opium, that if it had been a trifling incident in my life, I might have forgotten its date: but cardinal events are not to be forgotten; and from circumstances connected with it, I remember that it must be referred to the autumn of 1804. During that season I was in London, having come thither for the first time since my entrance at college. And my introduction to opium arose in the following way. From an early age I had been accustomed to wash my head in cold water at least once a day: being suddenly seized with tooth-ache, I attributed it to some relaxation caused by an accidental intermission of that practice; jumped out of bed; plunged my head into a bason of cold water; and with hair thus wetted went to sleep. The next morning, as I need hardly say, I awoke with excruciating rheumatic pains of the head and face, from which I had hardly any respite for about twenty days. On the twenty-first day, I think it was, and on a Sunday, that I went out into the streets; rather to run away, if possible, from my torments, than with any distinct purpose. By accident I met a college acquaintance who recommended opium. Opium! dread agent of unimaginable pleasure and pain! I had heard of it as I had of manna or of Ambrosia, but no further: how unmeaning a sound was it at that time! what solemn chords does it now strike upon my heart! what heartquaking vibrations of sad and happy remembrances! Reverting for a moment to these, I feel a mystic importance attached to the minutest circumstances connected with the place and the time, and the man (if man he was) that first laid open to me the Paradise of Opiumeaters. It was a Sunday afternoon, wet and cheerless: and a duller spectacle this earth of ours has not to show than a rainy Sunday in London. My road homewards lay through Oxford-street; and near 'the stately Pantheon,' (as Mr Wordsworth has obligingly called it) I saw a druggist's shop. The druggist - unconscious minister of celestial pleasures! - as if in sympathy with the rainy Sunday, looked dull and stupid, just as any mortal druggist might be expected to look on a Sunday: and, when I asked for the tincture of opium, he gave it to me as any other man might do: and furthermore, out of my shilling, returned me what seemed to be real copper halfpence, taken out of a real wooden drawer. Nevertheless, in spite of such indications of humanity, he has ever since existed in my mind as the beatific vision of an immortal druggist, sent down to earth on a special mission to myself. And it confirms me in this way of considering him, that, when I next came up to London, I sought him near the stately Pantheon, and found him not: and thus to me, who knew not his name (if indeed he had one) he seemed rather to have vanished from Oxford-street than to have removed in any bodily fashion. The reader may choose to think of him as, possibly, no more than a sublunary druggist: it may be so: but my faith is better: I believe him to have evanesced,[*] or evaporated. So unwillingly would I connect any mortal remembrances with that hour, and place, and creature, that first brought me acquainted with the celestial drug.

Arrived at my lodgings, it may be supposed that I lost not a moment in taking the quantity prescribed. I was necessarily ignorant of the whole art and mystery of opium-taking: and, what I took, I took under every disadvantage. But I took it: - and in an hour, oh! Heavens! what a revulsion! what an upheaving, from its lowest depths, of the inner spirit! what an apocalypse of the world within me! That my pains had vanished, was now a trifle in my eyes: - this negative effect was swallowed up in the immensity of those positive effects which had opened before me -in the abyss of divine enjoyment thus suddenly revealed. Here was a panacea - a φάϱμακον νηπεθέ'ζ ['drug that assuages sorrow'] for all human woes: here was the secret of happiness, about which philosophers had disputed for so many ages, at once discovered: happiness might now be bought for a penny, and carried in the waistcoat pocket: portable ecstacies might be had corked up in a pint bottle: and peace of mind could be sent down in gallons by the mail coach. But, if I talk in this way, the reader will think I am laughing: and I can assure him, that nobody will laugh long who deals much with opium: its pleasures even are of a grave and solemn complexion; and in his happiest state, the opium-eater cannot present himself in the character of l'Allegro: even then, he speaks and thinks as becomes Il Penseroso. Nevertheless, I have a very reprehensible way of jesting at times in the midst of my own misery: and, unless when I am checked by some more powerful feelings, I am afraid I shall be guilty of this indecent practice even in these annals of suffering or enjoyment. The reader must allow a little to my infirm nature in this respect: and with a few indulgences of that sort, I shall endeavour to be as grave, if not drowsy, as fits a theme like opium, so anti-mercurial as it really is, and so drowsy as it is falsely reputed.

And, first, one word with respect to its bodily effects: for upon all that has been hitherto written on the subject of opium, whether by travellers in Turkey (who may plead their privilege of lying as an old immemorial right), or by professors of medicine, writing ex cathedra, ['from the chair'] - I have but one emphatic criticism to pronounce - Lies! lies! lies! I remember once, in passing a book-stall, to have caught these words from a page of some satiric author: - 'By this time I became convinced that the London newspapers spoke truth at least twice a week, viz. on Tuesday and Saturday, and might safely be depended upon for - the list of bankrupts.' In like manner, I do by no means deny that some truths have been delivered to the world in regard to opium: thus it has been repeatedly affirmed by the learned, that opium is a dusky brown in colour; and this, take notice, I grant: secondly, that it is rather dear; which also I grant: for in my time, East-India opium has been three guineas a pound, and Turkey eight: and, thirdly, that if you eat a good deal of it, most probably you must - do what is particularly disagreeable to any man of regular habits, viz. die.[*] These weighty propositions are, all and singular, true: I cannot gainsay them: and truth ever was, and will be, commendable. But in these three theorems, I believe we have exhausted the stock of knowledge as yet accumulated by man on the subject of opium. And therefore, worthy doctors, as there seems to be room for further discoveries, stand aside, and allow me to come forward and lecture on this matter.

First, then, it is not so much affirmed as taken for granted, by all who ever mention opium, formally or incidentally, that it does, or can, produce intoxication. Now, reader, assure yourself, meo periculo, ['at my peril'] that no quantity of opium ever did, or could intoxicate. As to the tincture of opium (commonly called laudanum) that might certainly intoxicate if a man could bear to take enough of it; but why? because it contains so much proof spirit, and not because it contains so much opium. But crude opium, I affirm peremptorily, is incapable of producing any state of body at all resembling that which is produced by alcohol; and not in degree only incapable, but even in kind: it is not in the quantity of its effects merely, but in the quality, that it differs altogether. The pleasure given by wine is always mounting, and tending to a crisis, after which it declines: that from opium, when once generated, is stationary for eight or ten hours: the first, to borrow a technical distinction from medicine, is a case of acute - the second, of chronic pleasure: the one is a flame, the other a steady and equable glow. But the main distinction lies in this, that whereas wine disorders the mental faculties, opium, on the contrary (if taken in a proper manner), introduces amongst them the most exquisite order, legislation, and harmony. Wine robs a man of his self-possession: opium greatly invigorates it. Wine unsettles and clouds the judgment, and gives a preternatural brightness, and a vivid exaltation to the contempts and the admirations, the loves and the hatreds, of the drinker: opium, on the contrary, communicates serenity and equipoise to all the faculties, active or passive: and with respect to the temper and moral feelings in general, it gives simply that sort of vital warmth which is approved by the judgment, and which would probably always accompany a bodily constitution of primeval or antediluvian health. Thus, for instance, opium, like wine, gives an expansion to the heart and the benevolent affections: but then, with this remarkable difference, that in the sudden development of kindheartedness which accompanies inebriation, there is always more or less of a maudlin character, which exposes it to the contempt of the by-stander. Men shake hands, swear eternal friendship, and shed tears - no mortal knows why: and the sensual creature is clearly uppermost. But the expansion of the benigner feelings, incident to opium, is no febrile access, but a healthy restoration to that state which the mind would naturally recover upon the removal of any deep-seated irritation of pain that had disturbed and quarrelled with the impulses of a heart originally just and good. True it is, that even wine, up to a certain point, and with certain men, rather tends to exalt and to steady the intellect: I myself, who have never been a great wine-drinker, used to find that half a dozen glasses of wine advantageously affected the faculties - brightened and intensified the consciousness - and gave to the mind a feeling of being 'ponderibus librata suis': ['balanced by its own weight'] and certainly it is most absurdly said, in popular language, of any man, that he is disguised in liquor: for, on the contrary, most men are disguised by sobriety; and it is when they are drinking (as some old gentleman says in Athenœus), that men ἑαυτοὺζ ἐμφανίξουαιν οἵτινεζ εἰσίν ['display who they really are'] - display themselves in their true complexion of character; which surely is not disguising themselves. But still, wine constantly leads a man to the brink of absurdity and extravagance; and, beyond a certain point, it is sure to volatilize and to disperse the intellectual energies: whereas opium always seems to compose what had been agitated, and to concentrate what had been distracted. In short, to sum up all in one word, a man who is inebriated, or tending to inebriation, is, and feels that he is, in a condition which calls up into supremacy the merely human, too often the brutal, part of his nature: but the opium-eater (I speak of him who is not suffering from any disease, or other remote effects of opium) feels that the diviner part of his nature is paramount; that is, the moral affections are in a state of cloudless serenity; and over all is the great light of the majestic intellect.

This is the doctrine of the true church on the subject of opium: of which church I acknowledge myself to be the only member - the alpha and the omega: but then it is to be recollected, that I speak from the ground of a large and profound personal experience: whereas most of the unscientific[*] authors who have at all treated of opium, and even of those who have written expressly on the materia medica, make it evident, from the horror they express of it, that their experimental knowledge of its action is none at all. I will, however, candidly acknowledge that I have met with one person who bore evidence to its intoxicating power, such as staggered my own incredulity: for he was a surgeon, and had himself taken opium largely. I happened to say to him, that his enemies (as I had heard) charged him with talking nonsense on politics, and that his friends apologized for him, by suggesting that he was constantly in a state of intoxication from opium. Now the accusation, said I, is not prima facie ['at first appearance'], and of necessity, an absurd one: but the defence is. To my surprise, however, he insisted that both his enemies and his friends were in the right: 'I will maintain,' said he, 'that I do talk nonsense; and secondly, I will maintain that I do not talk nonsense upon principle, or with any view to profit, but solely and simply, said he, solely and simply, - solely and simply (repeating it three times over), because I am drunk with opium; and that daily.' I replied that, as to the allegation of his enemies, as it seemed to be established upon such respectable testimony, seeing that the three parties concerned all agreed in it, it did not become me to question it; but the defence set up I must demur to. He proceeded to discuss the matter, and to lay down his reasons: but it seemed to me so impolite to pursue an argument which must have presumed a man mistaken in a point belonging to his own profession, that I did not press him even when his course of argument seemed open to objection: not to mention that a man who talks nonsense, even though 'with no view to profit,' is not altogether the most agreeable partner in a dispute, whether as opponent or respondent. I confess, however, that the authority of a surgeon, and one who was reputed a good one, may seem a weighty one to my prejudice: but still I must plead my experience, which was greater than his greatest by 7000 drops a day; and, though it was not possible to suppose a medical man unacquainted with the characteristic symptoms of vinous intoxication, it yet struck me that he might proceed on a logical error of using the word intoxication with too great latitude, and extending it generically to all modes of nervous excitement, instead of restricting it as the expression for a specific sort of excitement, connected with certain diagnostics. Some people have maintained, in my hearing, that they have been drunk upon green tea: and a medical student in London, for whose knowledge in his profession I have reason to feel great respect, assured me, the other day, that a patient, in recovering from an illness, had got drunk on a beef-steak.

Having dwelt so much on this first and leading error, in respect to opium, I shall notice very briefly a second and a third; which are, that the elevation of spirits produced by opium is necessarily followed by a proportionate depression, and that the natural and even immediate consequence of opium is torpor and stagnation, animal and mental. The first of these errors I shall content myself with simply denying; assuring my reader, that for ten years, during which I took opium at intervals, the day succeeding to that on which I allowed myself this luxury was always a day of unusually good spirits.

With respect to the torpor supposed to follow, or rather (if we were to credit the numerous pictures of Turkish opium-eaters) to accompany the practice of opium-eating, I deny that also. Certainly, opium is classed under the head of narcotics; and some such effect it may produce in the end: but the primary effects of opium are always, and in the highest degree, to excite and stimulate the system: this first stage of its action always lasted with me, during my noviciate, for upwards of eight hours; so that it must be the fault of the opiumeater himself if he does not so time his exhibition of the dose (to speak medically) as that the whole weight of its narcotic influence may descend upon his sleep. Turkish opium-eaters, it seems, are absurd enough to sit, like so many equestrian statues, on logs of wood as stupid as themselves. But that the reader may judge of the degree in which opium is likely to stupify the faculties of an Englishman, I shall (by way of treating the question illustratively, rather than argumentatively) describe the way in which I myself often passed an opium evening in London, during the period between 1804-1812. It will be seen, that at least opium did not move me to seek solitude, and much less to seek inactivity, or the torpid state of self-involution ascribed to the Turks. I give this account at the risk of being pronounced a crazy enthusiast or visionary: but I regard that little: I must desire my reader to bear in mind, that I was a hard student, and at severe studies for all the rest of my time: and certainly I had a right occasionally to relaxations as well as other people: these, however, I allowed myself but seldom.

The late Duke of——used to say, 'Next Friday, by the blessing of Heaven, I purpose to be drunk:' and in like manner I used to fix beforehand how often, within a given time, and when, I would commit a debauch of opium. This was seldom more than once in three weeks: for at that time I could not have ventured to call every day (as I did afterwards) for 'a glass of laudanum negus, warm, and without sugar.' No: as I have said, I seldom drank laudanum, at that time, more than once in three weeks: this was usually on a Tuesday or a Saturday night; my reason for which was this. In those days Grassini sang at the Opera: and her voice was delightful to me beyond all that I had ever heard. I know not what may be the state of the Opera-house now, having never been within its walls for seven or eight years, but at that time it was by much the most pleasant place of public resort in London for passing an evening. Five shillings admitted one to the gallery, which was subject to far less annoyance than the pit of the theatres: the orchestra was distinguished by its sweet and melodious grandeur from all English orchestras, the composition of which, I confess, is not acceptable to my ear, from the predominance of the clangorous instruments, and the absolute tyranny of the violin. The choruses were divine to hear: and when Grassini appeared in some interlude, as she often did, and poured forth her passionate soul as Andromache, at the tomb of Hector, &c. I question whether any Turk, of all that ever entered the Paradise of opiumeaters, can have had half the pleasure I had. But, indeed, I honour the Barbarians too much by supposing them capable of any pleasures approaching to the intellectual ones of an Englishman. For music is an intellectual or a sensual pleasure, according to the temperament of him who hears it. And, by the bye, with the exception of the fine extravaganza on that subject in Twelfth Night, I do not recollect more than one thing said adequately on the subject of music in all literature: it is a passage in the Religio Medici[*] of Sir T. Brown; and, though chiefly remarkable for its sublimity, has also a philosophic value, inasmuch as it points to the true theory of musical effects. The mistake of most people is to suppose that it is by the ear they communicate with music, and, therefore, that they are purely passive to its effects. But this is not so: it is by the re-action of the mind upon the notices of the ear, (the matter coming by the senses, the form from the mind) that the pleasure is constructed: and therefore it is that people of equally good ear differ so much in this point from one another. Now opium, by greatly increasing the activity of the mind generally, increases, of necessity, that particular mode of its activity by which we are able to construct out of the raw material of organic sound an elaborate intellectual pleasure. But, says a friend, a succession of musical sounds is to me like a collection of Arabic characters: I can attach no ideas to them. Ideas! my good sir? there is no occasion for them: all that class of ideas, which can be available in such a case, has a language of representative feelings. But this is a subject foreign to my present purposes: it is sufficient to say, that a chorus, &c. of elaborate harmony, displayed before me, as in a piece of arras work, the whole of my past life - not, as if recalled by an act of memory, but as if present and incarnated in the music: no longer painful to dwell upon: but the detail of its incidents removed, or blended in some hazy abstraction; and its passions exalted, spiritualized, and sublimed. All this was to be had for five shillings. And over and above the music of the stage and the orchestra, I had all around me, in the intervals of the performance, the music of the Italian language talked by Italian women: for the gallery was usually crowded with Italians: and I listened with a pleasure such as that with which Weld the traveller lay and listened, in Canada, to the sweet laughter of Indian women; for the less you understand of a language, the more sensible you are to the melody or harshness of its sounds: for such a purpose, therefore, it was an advantage to me that I was a poor Italian scholar, reading it but little, and not speaking it at all, nor understanding a tenth part of what I heard spoken.

These were my Opera pleasures: but another pleasure I had which, as it could be had only on a Saturday night, occasionally struggled with my love of the Opera; for, at that time, Tuesday and Saturday were the regular Opera nights. On this subject I am afraid I shall be rather obscure, but, I can assure the reader, not at all more so than Marinus in his life of Proclus, or many other biographers and auto-biographers of fair reputation. This pleasure, I have said, was to be had only on a Saturday night. What then was Saturday night to me more than any other night? I had no labours that I rested from; no wages to receive: what needed I to care for Saturday night, more than as it was a summons to hear Grassini? True, most logical reader: what you say is unanswerable. And yet so it was and is, that, whereas different men throw their feelings into different channels, and most are apt to show their interest in the concerns of the poor, chiefly by sympathy, expressed in some shape or other, with their distresses and sorrows, I, at that time, was disposed to express my interest by sympathizing with their pleasures. The pains of poverty I had lately seen too much of; more than I wished to remember: but the pleasures of the poor, their consolations of spirit, and their reposes from bodily toil, can never become oppressive to contemplate. Now Saturday night is the season for the chief, regular, and periodic return of rest to the poor: in this point the most hostile sects unite, and acknowledge a common link of brotherhood: almost all Christendom rests from its labours. It is a rest introductory to another rest: and divided by a whole day and two nights from the renewal of toil. On this account I feel always, on a Saturday night, as though I also were released from some yoke of labour, had some wages to receive, and some luxury of repose to enjoy. For the sake, therefore, of witnessing, upon as large a scale as possible, a spectacle with which my sympathy was so entire, I used often, on Saturday nights, after I had taken opium, to wander forth, without much regarding the direction or the distance, to all the markets, and other parts of London, to which the poor resort on a Saturday night, for laying out their wages. Many a family party, consisting of a man, his wife, and sometimes one or two of his children, have I listened to, as they stood consulting on their ways and means, or the strength of their exchequer, or the price of household articles. Gradually I became familiar with their wishes, their difficulties, and their opinions. Sometimes there might be heard murmurs of discontent: but far oftener expressions on the countenance, or uttered in words, of patience, hope, and tranquillity. And taken generally, I must say, that, in this point at least, the poor are far more philosophic than the rich - that they show a more ready and cheerful submission to what they consider as irremediable evils, or irreparable losses. Whenever I saw occasion, or could do it without appearing to be intrusive, I joined their parties; and gave my opinion upon the matter in discussion, which, if not always judicious, was always received indulgently. If wages were a little higher, or expected to be so, or the quartern loaf a little lower, or it was reported that onions and butter were expected to fall, I was glad: yet, if the contrary were true, I drew from opium some means of consoling myself. For opium (like the bee, that extracts its materials indiscriminately from roses and from the soot of chimneys) can overrule all feelings into a compliance with the master key. Some of these rambles led me to great distances: for an opiumeater is too happy to observe the motion of time. And sometimes in my attempts to steer homewards, upon nautical principles, by fixing my eye on the pole-star, and seeking ambitiously for a north-west passage, instead of circumnavigating all the capes and head-lands I had doubled in my outward voyage, I came suddenly upon such knotty problems of alleys, such enigmatical entries, and such sphynx's riddles of streets without thoroughfares, as must, I conceive, baffle the audacity of porters, and confound the intellects of hackney-coachmen. I could almost have believed, at times, that I must be the first discoverer of some of these terrœ incognitœ ['unknown lands'], and doubted, whether they had yet been laid down in the modern charts of London. For all this, however, I paid a heavy price in distant years, when the human face tyrannized over my dreams, and the perplexities of my steps in London came back and haunted my sleep, with the feeling of perplexities moral or intellectual, that brought confusion to the reason, or anguish and remorse to the conscience.

Thus I have shown that opium does not, of necessity, produce inactivity or torpor; but that, on the contrary, it often led me into markets and theatres. Yet, in candour, I will admit that markets and theatres are not the appropriate haunts of the opium-eater, when in the divinest state incident to his enjoyment. In that state, crowds become an oppression to him; music even, too sensual and gross. He naturally seeks solitude and silence, as indispensable conditions of those trances, or profoundest reveries, which are the crown and consummation of what opium can do for human nature. I, whose disease it was to meditate too much, and to observe too little, and who, upon my first entrance at college, was nearly falling into a deep melancholy, from brooding too much on the sufferings which I had witnessed in London, was sufficiently aware of the tendencies of my own thoughts to do all I could to counteract them. - I was, indeed, like a person who, according to the old legend, had entered the cave of Trophonius: and the remedies I sought were to force myself into society, and to keep my understanding in continual activity upon matters of science. But for these remedies, I should certainly have become hypochondriacally melancholy. In after years, however, when my cheerfulness was more fully re-established, I yielded to my natural inclination for a solitary life. And, at that time, I often fell into these reveries upon taking opium; and more than once it has happened to me, on a summernight, when I have been at an open window, in a room from which I could overlook the sea at a mile below me, and could command a view of the great town of L——, at about the same distance, that I have sate, from sun-set to sunrise, motionless, and without wishing to move.

I shall be charged with mysticism, Behmenism, quietism, &c. but that shall not alarm me. Sir H. Vane, the younger, was one of our wisest men: and let my readers see if he, in his philosophical works, be half as unmystical as I am. - I say, then, that it has often struck me that the scene itself was somewhat typical of what took place in such a reverie. The town of L——represented the earth, with its sorrows and its graves left behind, yet not out of sight, nor wholly forgotten. The ocean, in everlasting but gentle agitation, and brooded over by a dove-like calm, might not unfitly typify the mind and the mood which then swayed it. For it seemed to me as if then first I stood at a distance, and aloof from the uproar of life; as if the tumult, the fever, and the strife, were suspended; a respite granted from the secret burthens of the heart; a sabbath of repose; a resting from human labours. Here were the hopes which blossom in the paths of life, reconciled with the peace which is in the grave; motions of the intellect as unwearied as the heavens, yet for all anxieties a halcyon calm: a tranquillity that seemed no product of inertia, but as if resulting from mighty and equal antagonisms; infinite activities, infinite repose.

Oh! just, subtle, and mighty opium! that to the hearts of poor and rich alike, for the wounds that will never heal, and for 'the pangs that tempt the spirit to rebel,' bringest an assuaging balm; eloquent opium! that with thy potent rhetoric stealest away the purposes of wrath; and to the guilty man, for one night givest back the hopes of his youth, and hands washed pure from blood; and to the proud man, a brief oblivion for

Wrongs unredress'd, and insults unavenged;

that summonest to the chancery of dreams, for the triumphs of suffering innocence, false witnesses; and confoundest perjury; and dost reverse the sentences of unrighteous judges: - thou buildest upon the bosom of darkness, out of the fantastic imagery of the brain, cities and temples, beyond the art of Phidias and Praxiteles - beyond the splendour of Babylon and Hekatómpylos: and 'from the anarchy of dreaming sleep,' callest into sunny light the faces of long-buried beauties, and the blessed household countenances, cleansed from the 'dishonours of the grave.' Thou only givest these gifts to man; and thou hast the keys of Paradise, oh, just, subtle, and mighty opium!

————————————————————

* Evanesced. - this way of going off the stage of life appears to have been well known in the 17th century, but at that time to have been considered a peculiar privilege of blood-royal, and by no means to be allowed to druggists. For about the year 1686, a poet of rather ominous name (and who, by the bye, did ample justice to his name), viz. Mr Flat-man, in speaking of the death of Charles II expresses his surprise that any prince should commit so absurd an act as dying; because, says he,

Kings should disdain to die, and only disappear.

They should abscond, that is, into the other world.

* Of this, however, the learned appear latterly to have doubted: for in a pirated edition of Buchan's Domestic Medicine, which I once saw in the hands of a farmer's wife who was studying it for the benefit of her health, the Doctor was made to say - 'Be particularly careful never to take above five-and-twenty ounces of laudanum at once:' the true reading probably being five and twenty drops, which are held equal to about one grain of crude opium.

* Amongst the great herd of travellers, &c. who show sufficiently by their stupidity that they never held any intercourse with opium, I must caution my reader specially against the brilliant author of 'Anastasius.' This gentleman, whose wit would lead one to presume him an opium-eater, has made it impossible to consider him in that character from the grievous misrepresentation which he gives of its effects, at p. 215-17, of vol. 1 - Upon consideration, it must appear such to the author himself: for, waiving the errors I have insisted on in the text, which (and others) are adopted in the fullest manner, he will himself admit, that an old gentleman 'with a snow-white beard,' who eats 'ample doses of opium,' and is yet able to deliver what is meant and received as very weighty counsel on the bad effects of that practice, is but an indifferent evidence that opium either kills people prematurely, or sends them into a madhouse. But, for my part, I see into this old gentleman and his motives: the fact is, he was enamoured of 'the little golden receptacle of the pernicious drug' which Anastasius carried about him; and no way of obtaining it so safe and so feasible occurred, as that of frightening its owner out of his wits (which, by the bye, are none of the strongest). This commentary throws a new light upon the case, and greatly improves it as a story: for the old gentleman's speech, considered as a lecture on pharmacy, is highly absurd: but, considered as a hoax on Anastasius, it reads excellently.

* I have not the book at this moment to consult: but I think the passage begins - 'And even that tavern music, which makes one man merry, another mad, in me strikes a deep fit of devotion,' &c.

Introduction to the Pains of Opium

Courteous, and, I hope, indulgent reader (for all my readers must be indulgent ones, or else, I fear, I shall shock them too much to count on their courtesy), having accompanied me thus far, now let me request you to move onwards, for about eight years; that is to say, from 1804 (when I have said that my acquaintance with opium first began) to 1812. The years of academic life are now over and gone - almost forgotten: - the student's cap no longer presses my temples; if my cap exist at all, it presses those of some youthful scholar, I trust, as happy as myself, and as passionate a lover of knowledge. My gown is, by this time, I dare to say, in the same condition with many thousands of excellent books in the Bodleian, viz. diligently perused by certain studious moths and worms: or departed, however (which is all that I know of its fate), to that great reservoir of somewhere, to which all the tea-cups, tea-caddies, tea-pots, tea-kettles, &c. have departed (not to speak of still frailer vessels, such as glasses, decanters, bed-makers, &c.) which occasional resemblances in the present generation of tea-cups, &c. remind me of having once possessed, but of whose departure and final fate I, in common with most gownsmen of either university, could give, I suspect, but an obscure and conjectural history. The persecutions of the chapel-bell, sounding its unwelcome summons to six o'clock matins, interrupts my slumbers no longer: the porter who rang it, upon whose beautiful nose (bronze, inlaid with copper) I wrote, in retaliation, so many Greek epigrams, whilst I was dressing, is dead, and has ceased to disturb any body: and I, and many others, who suffered much from his tintinnabulous propensities, have now agreed to overlook his errors, and have forgiven him. Even with the bell I am now in charity: it rings, I suppose, as formerly, thrice a-day: and cruelly annoys, I doubt not, many worthy gentlemen, and disturbs their peace of mind: but as to me, in this year 1812, I regard its treacherous voice no longer (treacherous, I call it, for, by some refinement of malice, it spoke in as sweet and silvery tones as if it had been inviting one to a party): its tones have no longer, indeed, power to reach me, let the wind sit as favourable as the malice of the bell itself could wish: for I am 250 miles away from it, and buried in the depth of mountains. And what am I doing amongst the mountains? Taking opium. Yes, but what else? Why, reader, in 1812, the year we are now arrived at, as well as for some years previous, I have been chiefly studying German metaphysics, in the writings of Kant, Fichte, Schelling, &c. And how, and in what manner, do I live? in short, what class or description of men do I belong to? I am at this period, viz. in 1812, living in a cottage; and with a single female servant (honi soit qui mal y pense) ['dishonour to him who thinks evil'], who, amongst my neighbours, passes by the name of my 'housekeeper.' And, as a scholar and a man of learned education, and in that sense a gentleman, I may presume to class myself as an unworthy member of that indefinite body called gentlemen. Partly on the ground I have assigned, perhaps; partly because, from my having no visible calling or business, it is rightly judged that I must be living on my private fortune; I am so classed by my neighbours: and, by the courtesy of modern England, I am usually addressed on letters, &c. esquire, though having, I fear, in the rigorous construction of heralds, but slender pretensions to that distinguished honour: yes, in popular estimation, I am X. Y. Z., esquire, but not Justice of the Peace, nor Custos Rotulorum. Am I married? Not yet. And I still take opium? On Saturday nights. And, perhaps, have taken it unblushingly ever since 'the rainy Sunday,' and 'the stately Pantheon,' and 'the beatific druggist' of 1804? - Even so. And how do I find my health after all this opium-eating? in short, how do I do? Why, pretty well, I thank you, reader: in the phrase of ladies in the straw, 'as well as can be expected.' In fact, if I dared to say the real and simple truth, though, to satisfy the theories of medical men, I ought to be ill, I never was better in my life than in the spring of 1812; and I hope sincerely, that the quantity of claret, port, or 'particular Madeira,' which, in all probability, you, good reader, have taken, and design to take, for every term of eight years, during your natural life, may as little disorder your health as mine was disordered by the opium I had taken for the eight years, between 1804 and 1812. Hence you may see again the danger of taking any medical advice from Anastasius; in divinity, for aught I know, or law, he may be a safe counsellor; but not in medicine. No: it is far better to consult Dr Buchan; as I did: for I never forgot that worthy man's excellent suggestion: and I was 'particularly careful not to take above five-and-twenty ounces of laudanum.' To this moderation and temperate use of the article, I may ascribe it, I suppose, that as yet, at least, (i. e. in 1812,) I am ignorant and unsuspicious of the avenging terrors which opium has in store for those who abuse its lenity. At the same time, it must not be forgotten, that hitherto I have been only a dilettante eater of opium: eight years' practice even, with the single precaution of allowing sufficient intervals between every indulgence, has not been sufficient to make opium necessary to me as an article of daily diet. But now comes a different era. Move on, if you please, reader, to 1813. In the summer of the year we have just quitted, I had suffered much in bodily health from distress of mind connected with a very melancholy event. This event, being no ways related to the subject now before me, further than through the bodily illness which it produced, I need not more particularly notice. Whether this illness of 1812 had any share in that of 1813, I know not: but so it was, that in the latter year, I was attacked by a most appalling irritation of the stomach, in all respects the same as that which had caused me so much suffering in youth, and accompanied by a revival of all the old dreams. This is the point of my narrative on which, as respects my own self-justification, the whole of what follows may be said to hinge. And here I find myself in a perplexing dilemma: - Either, on the one hand, I must exhaust the reader's patience, by such a detail of my malady, and of my struggles with it, as might suffice to establish the fact of my inability to wrestle any longer with irritation and constant suffering: or, on the other hand, by passing lightly over this critical part of my story, I must forego the benefit of a stronger impression left on the mind of the reader, and must lay myself open to the misconstruction of having slipped by the easy and gradual steps of self-indulging persons, from the first to the final stage of opium-eating (a misconstruction to which there will be a lurking predisposition in most readers, from my previous acknowledgements.) This is the dilemma: the first horn of which would be sufficient to toss an gore any column of patient readers, though drawn up sixteen deep and constantly relieved by fresh men: consequently that is not to be thought of. It remains then, that I postulate so much as is necessary for my purpose. And let me take as full credit for what I postulate as if I had demonstrated it, good reader, at the expense of your patience and my own. Be not so ungenerous as to let me suffer in your good opinion through my own forbearance and regard for your comfort. No: believe all that I ask of you, viz. that I could resist no longer, believe it liberally, and as an act of grace: or else in mere prudence: for, if not, then in the next edition of my Opium Confessions revised and enlarged, I will make you believe and tremble: and à force d'ennuyer ['from sheer boredom'], by mere dint of pandiculation I will terrify all readers of mine from ever again questioning any postulate that I shall think fit to make.

This then, let me repeat, I postulate - that, at the time I began to take opium daily, I could not have done otherwise. Whether, indeed, afterwards I might not have succeeded in breaking off the habit, even when it seemed to me that all efforts would be unavailing, and whether many of the innumerable efforts which I did make, might not have been carried much further, and my gradual reconquests of ground lost might not have been followed up much more energetically - these are questions which I must decline. Perhaps I mi ht make out a case of palliation; but, shall I speak ingenuously? I confess it, as a besetting infirmity of mine, that I am too much of an Eudæmonist: I hanker too much after a state of happiness, both for myself and others: I cannot face misery, whether my own or not, with an eye of sufficient firmness: and am little capable of encountering present pain for the sake of any reversionary benefit. On some other matters, I can agree with the gentlemen in the cottontrade[*] at Manchester in affecting the Stoic philosophy: but not in this. Here I take the liberty of an Eclectic philosopher, and I look out for some courteous and considerate sect that will condescend more to the infirm condition of an opium-eater; that are 'sweet men,' as Chaucer says, 'to give absolution,' and will show some conscience in the penances they inflict, and the efforts of abstinence they exact, from poor sinners like myself. An inhuman moralist I can no more endure in my nervous state than opium that has not been boiled. At any rate, he, who summons me to send out a large freight of self-denial and mortification upon any cruising voyage of moral improvement, must make it clear to my understanding that the concern is a hopeful one. At my time of life (six and thirty years of age) it cannot be supposed that I have much energy to spare: in fact, I find it all little enough for the intellectual labours I have on my hands: and, therefore, let no man expect to frighten me by a few hard words into embarking any part of it upon desperate adventures of morality.

Whether desperate or not, however, the issue of the struggle in 1813 was what I have mentioned; and from this date, the reader is to consider me as a regular and confirmed opium-eater, of whom to ask whether on any particular day he had or had not taken opium, would be to ask whether his lungs had performed respiration, or the heart fulfilled its functions. - You understand now, reader, what I am: and you are by this time aware, that no old gentleman, 'with a snow-white beard,' will have any chance of persuading me to surrender 'the little golden receptacle of the pernicious drug.' No: I give notice to all, whether moralists or surgeons, that, whatever be their pretensions and skill in their respective lines of practice, they must not hope for any countenance from me, if they think to begin by any savage proposition for a Lent or Ramadan of abstinence from opium. This then being all fully understood between us, we shall in future sail before the wind. Now then, reader, from 1813, where all this time we have been sitting down and loitering - rise up, if you please, and walk forward about three years more. Now draw up the curtain, and you shall see me in a new character.

If any man, poor or rich, were to say that he would tell us what had been the happiest day in his life, and the why, and the wherefore, I suppose that we should all cry Out - Hear him! Hear him! - As to the happiest day, that must be very difficult for any wise man to name: because any event, that could occupy so distinguished a place in a man's retrospect of his life, or be entitled to have shed a special felicity on any one day, ought to be of such an enduring character, as that (accidents apart) it should have continued to shed the same felicity, or one not distinguishably less, on many years together. To the happiest lustrum, however, or even to the happiest year, it may be allowed to any man to point without discountenance from wisdom. This year, in my case, reader, was the one which we have now reached; though it stood, I confess, as a parenthesis between years of a gloomier character. It was a year of brilliant water (to speak after the manner of jewellers), set as it were, and insulated, in the gloom and cloudy melancholy of opium. Strange as it may sound, I had a little before this time descended suddenly, and without any considerable effort, from 320 grains of opium (i.e. eight[*] thousand drops of laudanum) per day, to forty grains, or one eighth part. Instantaneously, and as if by magic, the cloud of profoundest melancholy which rested upon my brain, like some black vapours that I have seen roll away from the summits of mountains, drew off in one day (νυχθήμεϱον) ['A night and a day']; passed off with its murky banners as simultaneously as a ship that has been stranded, and is floated off by a spring tide -

That moveth altogether, if it move at all.

Now, then, I was again happy: I now took only 1000 drops of laudanum per day: and what was that? A latter spring had come to close up the season of youth: my brain performed its functions as healthily as ever before: I read Kant again; and again I understood him, or fancied that I did. Again my feelings of pleasure expanded themselves to all around me: and if any man from Oxford or Cambridge, or from neither had been announced to me in my unpretending cottage, I should have welcomed him with as sumptuous a reception as so poor a man could offer. Whatever else was wanting to a wise man's happiness, - of laudanum I would have given him as much as he wished, and in a golden cup. And, by the way, now that I speak of giving laudanum away, I remember, about this time, a little incident, which I mention, because, trifling as it was, the reader will soon meet it again in my dreams, which it influenced more fearfully than could be imagined. One day a Malay knocked at my door. What business a Malay could have to transact amongst English mountains, I cannot conjecture: but possibly he was on his road to a sea-port about forty miles distant.

The servant who opened the door to him was a young girl born and bred amongst the mountains, who had never seen an Asiatic dress of any sort: his turban, therefore, confounded her not a little: and, as it turned out, that his attainments in English were exactly of the same extent as hers in the Malay, there seemed to be an impassable gulph fixed between all communication of ideas, if either party had happened to possess any. In this dilemma, the girl, recollecting the reputed learning of her master (and, doubtless, giving me credit for a knowledge of all the languages of the earth, besides, perhaps, a few of the lunar ones), came and gave me to understand that there was a sort of demon below, whom she clearly imagined that my art could exorcise from the house. I did not immediately go down: but, when I did, the group which presented itself, arranged as it was by accident, though not very elaborate, took hold of my fancy and my eye in a way that none of the statuesque attitudes exhibited in the ballets at the Opera House, though so ostentatiously complex, had ever done. In a cottage kitchen, but panelled on the wall with dark wood that from age and rubbing resembled oak, and looking more like a rustic hall of entrance than a kitchen, stood the Malay - his turban and loose trowsers of dingy white relieved upon the dark panelling: he had placed himself nearer to the girl than she seemed to relish; though her native spirit of mountain intrepidity contended with the feeling of simple awe which her countenance expressed as she gazed upon the tiger-cat before her. And a more striking picture there could not be imagined, than the beautiful English face of the girl, and its exquisite fairness, together with her erect and independent attitude, contrasted with the sallow and bilious skin of the Malay, enamelled or veneered with mahogany, by marine air, his small, fierce, restless eyes, thin lips, slavish gestures and adorations. Half-hidden by the ferocious looking Malay, was a little child from a neighbouring cottage who had crept in after him, and was now in the act of reverting its head, and gazing upwards at the turban and the fiery eyes beneath it, whilst with one hand he caught at the dress of the young woman for protection. My knowledge of the Oriental tongues is not remarkably extensive, being indeed confined to two words - the Arabic word for barley, and the Turkish for opium (madjoon), which I have learnt from Anastasius. And, as I had neither a Malay dictionary, nor even Adelung's Mithridates, which might have helped me to a few words, I addressed him in some lines from the Iliad; considering that, of such languages as I possessed, Greek, in point of longitude, came geographically nearest to an Oriental one. He worshipped me in a most devout manner, and replied in what I suppose was Malay. In this way I saved my reputation with my neighbours: for the Malay had no means of betraying the secret. He lay down upon the floor for about an hour, and then pursued his journey. On his departure, I presented him with a piece of opium. To him, as an Orientalist, I concluded that opium must be familiar: and the expression of his face convinced me that it was. Nevertheless, I was struck with some little consternation when I saw him suddenly raise his hand to his mouth, and (in the school-boy phrase) bolt the whole, divided into three pieces, at one mouthful. The quantity was enough to kill three dragoons and their horses: and I felt some alarm for the poor creature: but what could be done? I had given him the opium in compassion for his solitary life, on recollecting that if he had travelled on foot from London, it must be nearly three weeks since he could have exchanged a thought with any human being. I could not think of violating the laws of hospitality, by having him seized and drenched with an emetic, and thus frightening him into a notion that we were going to sacrifice him to some English idol. No: there was clearly no help for it: - he took his leave: and for some days I felt anxious: but as I never heard of any Malay being found dead, I became convinced that he was used[*] to opium: and that I must have done him the service I designed, by giving him one night of respite from the pains of wandering.

This incident I have digressed to mention, because this Malay (partly from the picturesque exhibition he assisted to frame, partly from the anxiety I connected with his image for some days) fastened afterwards upon my dreams, and brought other Malays with him worse than himself, that ran 'a-muck'[*] at me, and led me into a world of troubles. - But to quit this episode, and to return to my intercalary year of happiness. I have said already, that on a subject so important to us all as happiness, we should listen with pleasure to any man's experience or experiments, even though he were but a plough-boy, who cannot be supposed to have ploughed very deep into such an intractable soil as that of human pains and pleasures, or to have conducted his researches upon any very enlightened principles. But I, who have taken happiness, both in a solid and a liquid shape, both boiled and unboiled, both East India and Turkey - who have conducted my experiments upon this interesting subject with a sort of galvanic battery - and have, for the general benefit of the world, inoculated myself, as it were, with the poison of 8000 drops of laudanum per day (just, for the same reason, as a French surgeon inoculated himself lately with cancer - an English one, twenty years ago, with plague - and a third, I know not of what nation, with hydrophobia), - I (it will be admitted) must surely know what happiness is, if any body does. And, therefore, I will here lay down an analysis of happiness; and as the most interesting mode of communicating it, I will give it, not didactically, but wrapt up and involved in a picture of one evening, as I spent every evening during the intercalary year when laudanum, though taken daily, was to me no more than the elixir of pleasure. This done, I shall quit the subject of happiness altogether, and pass to a very different one - the pains of opium.

Let there be a cottage, standing in a valley, 18 miles from any town - no spacious valley, but about two miles long, by three quarters of a mile in average width; the benefit of which provision is, that all the families resident within its circuit will compose, as it were, one larger household personally familiar to your eye, and more or less interesting to your affections. Let the mountains be real mountains, between 3 and 4000 feet high; and the cottage, a real cottage; not (as a witty author has it) 'a cottage with a double coach-house': let it be, in fact (for I must abide by the actual scene), a white cottage, embowered with flowering shrubs, so chosen as to unfold a succession of flowers upon the walls, and clustering round the windows through all the months of spring, summer, and autumn - beginning, in fact, with May roses, and ending with jasmine. Let it, however, not be spring, nor summer, nor autumn - but winter, in his sternest shape. This is a most important point in the science of happiness. And I am surprised to see people overlook it, and think it matter of congratulation that winter is going; or, if coming, is not likely to be a severe one. On the contrary, I put up a petition annually, for as much snow, hail, frost, or storm, of one kind or other, as the skies can possibly afford us. Surely every body is aware of the divine pleasures which attend a winter fireside: candles at four o'clock, warm hearth-rugs, tea, a fair tea-maker, shutters closed, curtains flowing in ample draperies on the floor, whilst the wind and rain are raging audibly without,

And at the doors and windows seem to call,

As heav'n and earth they would together mell;

Yet the least entrance find they none at all;

Whence sweeter grows our rest secure in massy hall.

- Castle of Indolence.

All these are items in the description of a winter evening, which must surely be familiar to every body born in a high latitude. And it is evident, that most of these delicacies, like ice-cream, require a very low temperature of the atmosphere to produce them: they are fruits which cannot be ripened without weather stormy or inclement, in some way or other. I am not 'particular,' as people say, whether it be snow, or black frost, or wind so strong, that (as Mr——says) 'you may lean your back against it like a post.' I can put up even with rain, provided it rains cats and dogs: but something of the sort I must have: and, if I have it not, I think myself in a manner ill-used: for why am I called on to pay so heavily for winter, in coals, and candles, and various privations that will occur even to gentlemen, if I am not to have the article good of its kind? No: a Canadian winter for my money: or a Russian one, where every man is but a co-proprietor with the north wind in the fee-simple of his own ears. Indeed, so great an epicure am I in this matter, that I cannot relish a winter night fully if it be much past St Thomas's day, and have degenerated into disgusting tendencies to vernal appearances: no: it must be divided by a thick wall of dark nights from all return of light and sunshine. - From the latter weeks of October to Christmas-eve, therefore, is the period during which happiness is in season, which, in my judgment, enters the room with the tea-tray: for tea, though ridiculed by those who are naturally of coarse nerves, or are become so from wine-drinking, and are not susceptible of influence from so refined a stimulant, will always be the favourite beverage of the intellectual: and, for my part, I would have joined Dr Johnson in a bellum internecinum ['war of extermination'] against Jonas Hanway, or any other impious person, who should presume to disparage it. - But here, to save myself the trouble of too much verbal description, I will introduce a painter; and give him directions for the rest of the picture. Painters do not like white cottages, unless a good deal weatherstained: but as the reader now understands that it is a winter night, his services will not be required, except for the inside of the house.

Paint me, then, a room seventeen feet by twelve, and not more than seven and a half feet high. This, reader, is somewhat ambitiously styled, in my family, the drawing-room: but, being contrived 'a double debt to pay,' it is also, and more justly, termed the library; for it happens that books are the only article of property in which I am richer than my neighbours. Of these, I have about five thousand, collected gradually since my eighteenth year. Therefore, painter, put as many as you can into this room. Make it populous with books: and, furthermore, paint me a good fire, and furniture, plain and modest, befitting the unpretending cottage of a scholar. And, near the fire, paint me a tea-table; and (as it is clear that no creature can come to see one such a stormy night,) place only two cups and saucers on the tea-tray: and, if you know how to paint such a thing symbolically, or otherwise, paint me an eternal tea-pot - eternal à parte ante, and à parte post ['beforehand and afterwards'] ; for I usually drink tea from eight o'clock at night to four o'clock in the morning. And, as it is very unpleasant to make tea, or to pour it out for oneself, paint me a lovely young woman, sitting at the table. Paint her arms like Aurora's, and her smiles like Hebe's: - But no, dear M., not even in jest let me insinuate that thy power to illuminate my cottage rests upon a tenure so perishable as mere personal beauty; or that the witchcraft of angelic smiles lies within the empire of any earthly pencil. Pass, then, my good painter, to something more within its power: and the next article brought forward should naturally be myself - a picture of the Opium-eater, with his 'little golden receptacle of the pernicious drug,' lying beside him on the table. As to the opium, I have no objection to see a picture of that, though I would rather see the original: you may paint it, if you choose; but I apprize you, that no 'little' receptacle would, even in 1816, answer my purpose, who was at a distance from the 'stately Pantheon,' and all druggists (mortal or otherwise). No: you may as well paint the real receptacle, which was not of gold, but of glass, and as much like a wine-decanter as possible. Into this you may put a quart of ruby-coloured laudanum: that, and a book of German metaphysics placed by its side, will sufficiently attest my being in the neighbourhood; but, as to myself, - there I demur. I admit that, naturally, I ought to occupy the foreground of the picture; that being the hero of the piece, or (if you choose) the criminal at the bar, my body should be had into court. This seems reasonable: but why should I confess, on this point, to a painter? or why confess at all? If the public (into whose private ear I am confidentially whispering my confessions, and not into any painter's) should chance to have framed some agreeable picture for itself, of the Opium-eater's exterior, - should have ascribed to him, romantically, an elegant person, or a handsome face, why should I barbarously tear from it so pleasing a delusion - pleasing both to the public and to me? No: paint me, if at all, according to your own fancy: and, as a painter's fancy should teem with beautiful creations, I cannot fail, in that way, to be a gainer. And now, reader, we have run through all the ten categories of my condition, as it stood about 1816-17: up to the middle of which latter year I judge myself to have been a happy man: and the elements of that happiness I have endeavoured to place before you, in the above sketch of the interior of a scholar's library, in a cottage among the mountains, on a stormy winter evening.

But now farewell - a long farewell to happiness - winter or summer! farewell to smiles and laughter! farewell to peace of mind! farewell to hope and to tranquil dreams, and to the blessed consolations of sleep! for more than three years and a half I am summoned away from these: I am now arrive at an Iliad of woes: for I have now to record

————————————————————

* A handsome news-room, of which I was very politely made free in passing through Manchester by several gentlemen of that place, is called, I think, The Porch: whence I, who am a stranger in Manchester, inferred that the subscribers meant to profess themselves followers of Zeno. But I have been since assured that this is a mistake.

* I here reckon twenty-five drops of laudanum as equivalent to one grain of opium, which, I believe, is the common estimate. However, as both may be considered variable quantities (the crude opium varying much in strength, and the tincture still more), I suppose that no infinitesimal accuracy can be had in such a calculation. Tea-spoons vary as much in size as opium in strength. Small ones hold about 100 drops: so that 8000 drops are about eighty times a tea-spoonful. The reader sees how much I kept within Dr Buchan's indulgent allowance.

* This, however, is not a necessary conclusion: the varieties of effect produced by opium on different constitutions are infinite. A London Magistrate (Harriott's Struggles through Life, vol. iii. p. 391, Third Edition), has recorded that, on the first occasion of his trying laudanum for the gout, he took forty drops, the next night sixty, and on the fifth night eighty, without any effect whatever: and this at an advanced age. I have an anecdote from a country surgeon, however, which sinks Mr Harriott's case into a trifle; and in my projected medical treatise on opium, which I will publish, provided the College of Surgeons will pay me for enlightening their benighted understandings upon this subject, I will relate it: but it is far too good a story to be published gratis.

* See the common accounts in any Eastern traveller or voyager of the frantic excesses committed by Malays who have taken opium, or are reduced to desperation by ill luck at gambling.

The Pains of Opium

- as when some great painter dips

His pencil in the gloom of earthquake and eclipse.

Shelley's Revolt of Islam.

Reader, who have thus far accompanied me, I must request your attention to a brief explanatory note on three points:

1. For several reasons, I have not been able to compose the notes for this part of my narrative into any regular and connected shape. I give the notes disjointed as I find them, or have now drawn them up from memory. Some of them point to their own date; some I have dated; and some are undated. Whenever it could answer my purpose to transplant them from the natural or chronological order, I have not scrupled to do so. Sometimes I speak in the present, sometimes in the past tense. Few of the notes, perhaps, were written exactly at the period of time to which they relate; but this can little affect their accuracy; as the impressions were such that, they can never fade from my mind. Much has been omitted. I could not, without effort, constrain myself to the task of either recalling, or constructing into a regular narrative, the whole burthen of horrors which lies upon my brain. This feeling partly I plead in excuse, and partly that I am now in London, and am a helpless sort of person, who cannot even arrange his own papers without assistance; and I am separated from the hands which are wont to perform for me the offices of an amanuensis.

2. You will think, perhaps, that I am too confidential and communicative of my own private history. It may be so. But my way of writing is rather to think aloud, and follow my own humours, than much to consider who is listening to me; and, if I stop to consider what is proper to be said to this or that person, I shall soon come to doubt whether any part at all is proper. The fact is, I place myself at a distance of fifteen or twenty years ahead of this time, and suppose myself writing to those who will be interested about me hereafter; and wishing to have some record of a time, the entire history of which no one can know but myself, I do it as fully as I am able with the efforts I am now capable of making, because I know not whether I can ever find time to do it again.

3. It will occur to you often to ask, why did I not release myself from the horrors of opium, by leaving it off, or diminishing it? To this I must answer briefly: it might be supposed that I yielded to the fascinations of opium too easily; it cannot be supposed that any man can be charmed by its terrors. The reader may be sure, therefore, that I made attempts innumerable to reduce the quantity. I add, that those who witnessed the agonies of those attempts, and not myself, were the first to beg me to desist. But could not I have reduced it a drop a day, or by adding water, have bisected or trisected a drop? A thousand drops bisected would thus have taken nearly six years to reduce; and that way would certainly not have answered. But this is a common mistake of those who know nothing of opium experimentally; I appeal to those who do, whether it is not always found that down to a certain point it can be reduced with ease and even pleasure, but that, after that point, further reduction causes intense suffering. Yes, say many thoughtless persons, who know not what they are talking of, you will suffer a little low spirits and dejection for a few days. I answer, no; there is nothing like low spirits; on the contrary, the mere animal spirits are uncommonly raised: the pulse is improved: the health is better. It is not there that the suffering lies. It has no resemblance to the sufferings caused by renouncing wine. It is a state of unutterable irritation of stomach (which surely is not much like dejection), accompanied by intense perspirations, and feelings such as I shall not attempt to describe without more space at my command.

I shall now enter 'in medias res,' and shall anticipate, from a time when my opium pains might be said to be at their acmé ['into the thick of things' … 'the highest point'], an account of their palsying effects on the intellectual faculties.

My studies have now been long interrupted. I cannot read to myself with any pleasure, hardly with a moment's endurance. Yet I read aloud sometimes for the pleasure of others; because, reading is an accomplishment of mine; and, in the slang use of the word accomplishment as a superficial and ornamental attainment, almost the only one I possess: and formerly, if I had any vanity at all connected with any endowment or attainment of mine, it was with this; for I had observed that no accomplishment was so rare. Players are the worst readers of all: ——reads vilely: and Mrs ——, who is so celebrated, can read nothing well but dramatic compositions: Milton she cannot read sufferably. People in general either read poetry without any passion at all, or else overstep the modesty of nature, and read not like scholars. Of late, if I have felt moved by any thing in books, it has been by the grand lamentations of Samson Agonistes, or the great harmonies of the Satanic speeches in Paradise Regained, when read aloud by myself. A young lady sometimes comes and drinks tea with us: at her request and M.'s I now and then read W——'s poems to them. (W., by the bye, is the only poet I ever met who could read his own verses: often indeed he reads admirably.)

For nearly two years I believe that I read no book but one: and I owe it to the author, in discharge of a great debt of gratitude, to mention what that was. The sublimer and more passionate poets I still read, as I have said, by snatches, and occasionally. But my proper vocation, as I well knew, was the exercise of the analytic understanding. Now, for the most part, analytic studies are continuous, and not to be pursued by fits and starts, or fragmentary efforts. Mathematics, for instance, intellectual philosophy, &c. were all become insupportable to me; I shrunk from them with a sense of powerless and infantine feebleness that gave me an anguish the greater from remembering the time when I grappled with them to my own hourly delight; and for this further reason, because I had devoted the labour of my whole life, and had dedicated my intellect, blossoms and fruits, to the slow and elaborate toil of constructing one single work, to which I had presumed to give the title of an unfinished work of Spinosa's; viz. De emendatione humani intellectûs. This was now lying locked up, as by frost, like any Spanish bridge or aqueduct, begun upon too great a scale for the resources of the architect; and, instead of surviving me as a monument of wishes at least, and aspirations, and a life of labour devoted to the exaltation of human nature in that way in which God had best fitted me to promote so great an object, it was likely to stand a memorial to my children of hopes defeated, of baffled efforts, of materials uselessly accumulated, of foundations laid that were never to support a superstructure, - of the grief and the ruin of the architect. In this state of imbecility, I had, for amusement, turned my attention to political economy; my understanding, which formerly had been as active and restless as a hyena, could not, I suppose (so long as I lived at all) sink into utter lethargy; and political economy offers this advantage to a person in my state, that though it is eminently an organic science (no part, that is to say, but what acts on the whole, as the whole again re-acts on each part) ; yet the several parts may be detached and contemplated singly. Great as was the prostration of my powers at this time, yet I could not forget my knowledge; and my understanding had been for too many years intimate with severe thinkers, with logic, and the great masters of knowledge, not to be aware of the utter feebleness of the main herd of modern economists. I had been led in 1811 to look into loads of books and pamphlets on many branches of economy; and, at my desire, M. sometimes read to me chapters from more recent works, or parts of parliamentary debates. I saw that these were generally the very dregs and rinsings of the human intellect; and that any man of sound head, and practised in wielding logic with a scholastic adroitness, might take up the whole academy of modern economists, and throttle them between heaven and earth with his finger and thumb, or bray their fungus heads to powder with a lady's fan. At length, in 1819, a friend in Edinburgh sent me down Mr Ricardo's book: and recurring to my own prophetic anticipation of the advent of some legislator for this science, I said, before I had finished the first chapter, 'Thou art the Man!' Wonder and curiosity were emotions that had long been dead in me. Yet I wondered once more: I wondered at myself that I could once again be stimulated to the effort of reading: and much more I wondered at the book. Had this profound work been really written in England during the nineteenth century? Was it possible? I supposed thinking[*] had been extinct in England. Could it be that an Englishman, and he not in academic bowers, but oppressed by mercantile and senatorial cares, had accomplished what all the universities of Europe, and a century of thought, had failed even to advance by one hair's breadth? All other writers had been crushed and overlaid by the enormous weight of facts and documents; Mr Ricardo had deduced, à priori ['derived by deductive reasoning'], from the understanding itself, laws which first gave a ray of light into the unwieldy chaos of materials, and had constructed what had been but a collection of tentative discussions into a science of regular proportions, now first standing on an eternal basis.

Thus did one single work of a profound understanding avail to give me a pleasure and an activity which I had not known for years: - it roused me even to write, or, at least, to dictate, what M. wrote for me. It seemed to me, that some important truths had escaped even 'the inevitable eye' of Mr Ricardo: and, as these were, for the most part, of such a nature that I could express or illustrate them more briefly and elegantly by algebraic symbols than in the usual clumsy and loitering diction of economists, the whole would not have filled a pocket-book; and being so brief, with M. for my amanuensis, even at this time, incapable as I was of all general exertion, I drew up my Prolegomena to all future Systems of Political Economy. I hope it will not be found redolent of opium; though, indeed, to most people, the subject itself is a sufficient opiate.

This exertion, however, was but a temporary flash; as the sequel showed - for I designed to publish my work: arrangements were made at a provincial press, about eighteen miles distant, for printing it. An additional compositor was retained, for some days, on this account. The work was even twice advertised: and I was, in a manner, pledged to the fulfilment of my intention. But I had a preface to write; and a dedication, which I wished to make a splendid one, to Mr Ricardo. I found myself quite unable to accomplish all this. The arrangements were countermanded: the compositor dismissed: and my 'Prolegomena' rested peacefully by the side of its elder and more dignified brother.

I have thus described and illustrated my intellectual torpor, in terms that apply, more or less, to every part of the four years during which I was under the Circean spells of opium. But for misery and suffering, I might, indeed, be said to have existed in a dormant state. I seldom could prevail on myself to write a letter; an answer of a few words, to any that I received, was the utmost that I could accomplish; and often that not until the letter had lain weeks, or even months, on my writing table. Without the aid of M. all records of bills paid, or to be paid, must have perished: and my whole domestic economy, whatever became of Political Economy, must have gone into irretrievable confusion. - I shall not afterwards allude to this part of the case: it is one, however, which the opium-eater will find, in the end, as oppressive and tormenting as any other, from the sense of incapacity and feebleness, from the direct embarrassments incident to the neglect or procrastination of each day's appropriate duties, and from the remorse which must often exasperate the stings of these evils to a reflective and conscientious mind. The opium-eater loses none of his moral sensibilities, or aspirations: he wishes and longs, as earnestly as ever, to realize what he believes possible, and feels to be exacted by duty; but his intellectual apprehension of what is possible infinitely outruns his power, not of execution only, but even of power to attempt. He lies under the weight of incubus and night-mare: he lies in sight of all that he would fain perform, just as a man forcibly confined to his bed by the mortal languor of a relaxing disease, who is compelled to witness injury or outrage offered to some object of his tenderest love: - he curses the spells which chain him down from motion: - he would lay down his life if he might but get up and walk; but he is powerless as an infant, and cannot even attempt to rise.

I now pass to what is the main subject of these latter confessions, to the history and journal of what took place in my dreams; for these were the immediate and proximate cause of my acutest suffering.

The first notice I had of any important change going on in this part of my physical economy, was from the re-awakening of a state of eye generally incident to children, or exalted states of irritability. I know not whether my reader is aware that many children, perhaps most, have a power of painting, as it were, upon the darkness, all sorts of phantoms; in some, that power is simply a mechanic affection of the eye; others have a voluntary, or a semi-voluntary power to dismiss or to summon them; or, as a child once said to me when I questioned him on this matter, 'l can tell them to go, and they go; but sometimes they come, when I don't tell them to come.' Whereupon I told him that he had almost as unlimited a command over apparitions, as a Roman centurion over his soldiers. - In the middle of 1817, I think it was, that this faculty became positively distressing to me: at night, when I lay awake in bed, vast processions passed along in mournful pomp; friezes of never-ending stories, that to my feelings were as sad and solemn as if they were stories drawn from times before (Edipus or Priam - before Tyre - before Memphis. And, at the same time, a corresponding change took place in my dreams; a theatre seemed suddenly opened and lighted up within my brain, which presented nightly spectacles of more than earthly splendour. And the four following facts may be mentioned, as noticeable at this time:

1. That, as the creative state of the eye increased, a sympathy seemed to arise between the waking and the dreaming states of the brain in one point - that whatsoever I happened to call up and to trace by a voluntary act upon the darkness was very apt to transfer itself to my dreams; so that I feared to exercise this faculty; for, as Midas turned all things to gold, that yet baffled his hopes and defrauded his human desires, so whatsoever things capable of being visually represented I did but think of it in the darkness, immediately shaped themselves into phantoms of the eye; and, by a process apparently no less inevitable, when thus once traced in faint and visionary colours, like writings in sympathetic ink, they were drawn out by the fierce chemistry of my dreams, into insufferable splendour that fretted my heart.

2. For this, and all other changes in my dreams, were accompanied by deep-seated anxiety and gloomy melancholy, such as are wholly incommunicable by words. I seemed every night to descend, not metaphorically, but literally to descend, into chasms and sunless abysses, depths below depths, from which it seemed hopeless that I could ever re-ascend. Nor did I, by waking, feel that I had re-ascended. This I do not dwell upon; because the state of gloom which attended these gorgeous spectacles, amounting at last to utter darkness, as of some suicidal despondency, cannot be approached by words.

3. The sense of space, and in the end, the sense of time, were both powerfully affected. Buildings, landscapes, &c. were exhibited in proportions so vast as the bodily eye is not fitted to receive. Space swelled, and was amplified to an extent of unutterable infinity. This, however, did not disturb me so much as the vast expansion of time; I sometimes seemed to have lived for 70 or 100 years in one night; nay; sometimes had feelings representative of a millenium passed in that time, or, however, of a duration far beyond the limits of any human experience.

4. The minutest incidents of childhood, or forgotten scenes of later years, were often revived: I could not be said to recollect them; for if I had been told of them when waking, I should not have been able to acknowledge them as parts of my past experience. But placed as they were before me, in dreams like intuitions, and clothed in all their evanescent circumstances and accompanying feelings. I recognized them instantaneously. I was once told by a near relative of mine, that having in her childhood fallen into a river, and being on the very verge of death but for the critical assistance which reached her, she saw in a moment her whole life, in its minutest incidents, arrayed before her simultaneously as in a mirror; and she had a faculty developed as suddenly for comprehending the whole and every part. This, from some opium experiences of mine, I can believe; I have, indeed, seen the same thing asserted twice in modern books, and accompanied by a remark which I am convinced is true; viz. that the dread book of account, which the Scriptures speak of, is, in fact, the mind itself of each individual. Of this at least, I feel assured, that there is no such thing as forgetting possible to the mind; a thousand accidents may, and will interpose a veil between our present consciousness and the secret inscriptions on the mind; accidents of the same sort will also rend away this veil; but alike, whether veiled or unveiled, the inscription remains for ever; just as the stars seem to withdraw before the common light of day, whereas, in fact, we all know that it is the light which is drawn over them as a veil - and that they are waiting to be revealed when the obscuring daylight shall have withdrawn.

Having noticed these four facts as memorably distinguishing my dreams from those of health, I shall now cite a case illustrative of the first fact; and shall then cite any others that I remember, either in their chronological order, or any other that may give them more effect as pictures to the reader.

I had been in youth, and even since, for occasional amusement, a great reader of Livy, whom, I confess, that I prefer, both for style and matter, to any other of the Roman historians: and I had often felt as most solemn and appalling sounds, and most emphatically representative of the majesty of the Roman people, the two words so often occurring in Livy - Consul Romanus; especially when the consul is introduced in his military character. I mean to say, that the words king - sultan - regent, &c. or any other titles of those who embody in their own persons the collective majesty of a great people, had less power over my reverential feelings. I had also, though no great reader of history, made myself minutely and critically familiar with one period of English history, viz. the period of the Parliamentary War, having been attracted by the moral grandeur of some who figured in that day, and by the many interesting memoirs which survive those unquiet times. Both these parts of my lighter reading, having furnished me often with matter of reflection, now furnished me with matter for my dreams. Often I used to see, after painting upon the blank darkness a sort of rehearsal whilst waking, a crowd of ladies, and perhaps a festival, and dances. And I heard it said, or I said to myself, 'these are English ladies from the unhappy times of Charles I. These are the wives and the daughters of those who met in peace, and sate at the same tables, and were allied by marriage or by blood; and yet, after a certain day in August, 1642, never smiled upon each other again, nor met but in the field of battle; and at Marston Moor, at Newbury, or at Naseby, cut asunder all ties of love by the cruel sabre, and washed away in blood the memory of ancient friendship.' - The ladies danced, and looked as lovely as the court of George IV. Yet I knew, even in my dream, that they had been in the grave for nearly two centuries. - This pageant would suddenly dissolve: and, at a clapping of hands, would be heard the heart-quaking sound of Consul Romanus: and immediately came 'Sweeping by,' in gorgeous paludaments, Paulus or Marius, girt round by a company of centurions, with the crimson tunic hoisted on a spear, and followed by the alalagmos ['shouting'] of the Roman legions.

Many years ago, when I was looking over Piranesi's Antiquities of Rome, Mr Coleridge, who was standing by, described to me a set of plates by that artist, called his Dreams, and which record the scenery of his own visions during the delirium of a fever. Some of them (I describe only from memory of Mr Coleridge's account) represented vast Gothic halls: on the floor of which stood all sorts of engines and machinery, wheels, cables, pulleys, levers, catapults, &c. &c. expressive of enormous power put forth, and resistance overcome. Creeping along the sides of the walls, you perceived a staircase; and upon it, groping his way upwards, was Piranesi himself: follow the stairs a little further, an you perceive it come to a sudden abrupt termination, without any balustrade, and allowing no step onwards to him who had reached the extremity, except into the depths below. Whatever is to become of poor Piranesi, you suppose, at least, that his labours must in some way terminate here. But raise your eyes, and behold a second flight of stairs still higher: on

which again Piranesi is perceived, but this time standing on the very brink of the abyss. Again elevate your eye, and a still more aerial flight of stairs is beheld: and again is poor Piranesi busy on his aspiring labours: and so on, until the unfinished stairs and Piranesi both are lost in the upper gloom of the hall. - With the same power of endless growth and self-reproduction did my architecture proceed in dreams. In the early stage of my malady, the splendours of my dreams were indeed chiefly architectural: and I beheld such pomp of cities and palaces as was never yet beheld by the waking eye, unless in the clouds. From a great modern poet I cite part of a passage which describes, as an appearance actually beheld in the clouds, what in many of its circumstances I saw frequently in sleep:

The appearance, instantaneously disclosed,

Was of a mighty city - boldly say

A wilderness of building, sinking far

And self-withdrawn into a wondrous depth,

Far sinking into splendor - without end!

Fabric it seem'd of diamond, and of gold,

With alabaster domes, and silver spires,

And blazing terrace upon terrace, high

Uplifted; here, serene pavilions bright

In avenues disposed; there towers begirt

With battlements that on their restless fronts

Bore stars - illumination of all gems!

By earthly nature had the effect been wrought

Upon the dark materials of the storm

Now pacified; on them, and on the coves,

And mountain-steeps and summits, whereunto

The vapours had receded, - taking there

Their station under a cerulean sky. &c. &c.

The sublime circumstance - 'battlements that on their restless fronts bore stars,' - might have been copied from my architectural dreams, for it often occurred. - We hear it reported of Dryden, and of Fuseli in modern times, that they thought proper to eat raw meat for the sake of obtaining splendid dreams: how much better for such a purpose to have eaten opium, which yet I do not remember that any poet is recorded to have done, except the dramatist Shadwell: and in ancient days, Homer is, I think, rightly reputed to have known the virtues of opium.

To my architecture succeeded dreams of lakes - and silvery expanses of water: - these haunted me so much, that I feared (though possibly it will appear ludicrous to a medical man) that some dropsical state or tendency of the brain might thus be making itself (to use a metaphysical word) objective; and the sentient organ project itself as its own object. - For two months I suffered greatly in my head, - a part of my bodily structure which had hitherto been so clear from all touch or taint of weakness (physically, I mean), that I used to say of it, as the last Lord Orford said of his stomach, that it seemed likely to survive the rest of my person. - Till now I had never felt a head-ache even, or any the slightest pain, except rheumatic pains caused by my own folly. However, I got over this attack, though it must have been verging on something very dangerous.

The waters now changed their character, - from translucent lakes, shining like mirrors, they now became seas and oceans. And now came a tremendous change, which, unfolding itself slowly like a scroll, through many months, promised an abiding torment; and, in fact, it never left me until the winding up of my case. Hitherto the human face had mixed often in my dreams, but not despotically, nor with any special power of tormenting. But now that which I have called the tyranny of the human face began to unfold itself. Perhaps some part of my London life might be answerable for this. Be that as it may, now it was that upon the rocking waters of the ocean the human face began to appear: the sea appeared paved with innumerable faces, upturned to the heavens: faces, imploring, wrathful, despairing, surged upwards by thousands, by myriads, by generations, by centuries: - my agitation was infinite, - my mind tossed - and surged with the ocean.

May, 1818.

The Malay has been a fearful enemy for months. I have been every night, through his means, transported into Asiatic scenes. I know not whether others share in my feelings on this point; but I have often thought that if I were compelled to forego England, and to live in China, and among Chinese manners and modes of life and scenery, I should go mad. The causes of my horror lie deep; and some of them must be common to others. Southern Asia, in general, is the seat of awful images and associations. As the cradle of the human race, it would alone have a dim and reverential feeling connected with it. But there are other reasons. No man can pretend that the wild, barbarous, and capricious superstitions of Africa, or of savage tribes elsewhere, affect him in the way that he is affected by the ancient, monumental, cruel, and elaborate religions of Indostan, &c. The mere antiquity of Asiatic things, of their institutions, histories, modes of faith, &c. is so impressive, that to me the vast age of the race and name overpowers the sense of youth in the individual. A young Chinese seems to me an antediluvian man renewed. Even Englishmen, though not bred in any knowledge of such institutions, cannot but shudder at the mystic sublimity of castes that have flowed apart, and refused to mix, through such immemorial tracts of time; nor can any man fail to be awed by the names of the Ganges, or the Euphrates. It contributes much to these feelings, that southern Asia is, and has been for thousands of years, the part of the earth most swarming with human life; the great officina gentium ['the factory of nations']. Man is a weed in those regions. The vast empires also, into which the enormous population of Asia has always been cast, give a further sublimity to the feelings associated with all oriental names or images. In China, over and above what it has in common with the rest of southern Asia, I am terrified by the modes of life, by the manners, and the barrier of utter abhorrence, and want of sympathy, placed between us by feelings deeper than I can analyze. I could sooner live with lunatics, or brute animals. All this, and much more than I can say, or have time to say, the reader must enter into before he can comprehend the unimaginable horror which these dreams of oriental imagery, and mythological tortures, impressed upon me. Under the connecting feeling of tropical heat and vertical sun-lights, I brought together all creatures, birds, beasts, reptiles, all trees and plants, usages and appearances, that are found in all tropical regions, and assembled them together in China or Indostan. From kindred feelings, I soon brought Egypt and all her gods under the same law. I was stared at, hooted at, grinned at, chattered at, by monkeys, by paroquets, by cockatoos. I ran into pagodas: and was fixed, for centuries, at the summit, or in secret rooms; I was the idol; I was the priest; I was worshipped; I was sacrificed. I fled from the wrath of Brama through all the forests of Asia: Vishnu hated me: Seeva laid wait for me. I came suddenly upon Isis and Osiris: I had done a deed, they said, which the ibis and the crocodile trembled at. I was buried, for a thousand years, in stone coffins, with mummies an sphynxes, in narrow chambers at the heart of eternal pyramids. I was kissed, with cancerous kisses, by crocodiles; and laid, confounded with all unutterable slimy things, amongst reeds and Nilotic mud.

I thus give the reader some slight abstraction of my oriental dreams, which always filled me with such amazement at the monstrous scenery, that horror seemed absorbed, for a while, in sheer astonishment. Sooner or later, came a reflux of feeling that swallowed up the astonishment, and left me, not so much in terror, as in hatred and abomination of what I saw. Over every form, and threat, and punishment, and dim sightless incarceration, brooded a sense of eternity and infinity that drove me into an oppression as of madness. Into these dreams only, it was, with one or two slight exceptions, that any circumstances of physical horror entered. All before had been moral and spiritual terrors. But here the main agents were ugly birds, or snakes, or crocodiles; especially the last. The cursed crocodile became to me the object of more horror than almost all the rest. I was compelled to live with him; and (as was always the case almost in my dreams) for centuries. I escaped sometimes, and found myself in Chinese houses, with cane tables, &c. All the feet of the tables, sophas, &c. soon became instinct with life: the abominable head of the crocodile, and his leering eyes, looked out at me, multiplied into a thousand repetitions: and I stood loathing and fascinated. And so often did this hideous reptile haunt my dreams, that many times the very same dream was broken up in the very same way: I heard gentle voices speaking to me (I hear every thing when I am sleeping) ; and instantly I awoke: it was broad noon; and my children were standing, hand in hand, at my bed-side; come to show me their coloured shoes, or new frocks, or to let me see them dressed for going out. I protest that so awful was the transition from the damned crocodile, and the other unutterable monsters and abortions of my dreams, to the sight of innocent human natures and of infancy, that, in the mighty and sudden revulsion of mind, I wept, and could not forebear it, as I kissed their faces.

June, 1819.

I have had occasion to remark, at various periods of my life, that the deaths of those whom we love, and indeed the contemplation of death generally, is (cœteris paribus) ['other things being equal'], more affecting in summer than in any other season of the year. And the reasons are these three, I think: first, that the visible heavens in summer appear far higher, more distant, and (if such a solecism may be excused) more infinite; the clouds, by which chiefly the eye expounds the distance of the blue pavilion stretched over our heads, are in summer more voluminous, massed, and accumulated in far grander and more towering piles: secondly, the light and the appearances of the declining and the setting sun are much more fitted to be types and characters of the Infinite: and, thirdly, (which is the main reason) the exuberant and riotous prodigality of life naturally forces the mind more powerfully upon the antagonist thought of death, and the wintry sterility of the grave. For it may be observed, generally, that wherever two thoughts stand related to each other by a law of antagonism, and exist, as it were, by mutual repulsion, they are apt to suggest each other. On these accounts it is that I find it impossible to banish the thought of death when I am walking alone in the endless days of summer; and any particular death, if not more affecting, at least haunts my mind more obstinately and besiegingly in that season. Perhaps this cause, and a slight incident which I omit, might have been the immediate occasions of the following dream; to which, however, a predisposition must always have existed in my mind; but having been once roused, it never left me, and split into a thousand fantastic varieties, which often suddenly re-united, and composed again the original dream.

I thought that it was a Sunday morning in May, that it was Easter Sunday, and as yet very early in the morning. I was standing, as it seemed to me, at the door of my own cottage. Right before me lay the very scene which could really be commanded from that situation, but exalted, as was usual, and solemnized by the power of dreams. There were the same mountains, and the same lovely valley at their feet; but the mountains were raised to more than Alpine height, and there was interspace far larger between them of meadows and forest lawns; the hedges were rich with white roses; and no living creature was to be seen, excepting that in the green church-yard there were cattle tranquilly reposing upon the verdant graves, and particularly round about the grave of a child whom I had tenderly loved, just as I had really beheld them, a little before sun-rise in the same summer, when that child died. I gazed upon the well-known scene, and I said aloud (as I thought) to myself, 'it yet wants much of sun-rise; and it is Easter Sunday; and that is the day on which they celebrate the first fruits of resurrection. I will walk abroad; old griefs shall be forgotten to-day; for the air is cool and still, and the hills are high, and stretch away to Heaven; and the forest-glades are as quiet as the church-yard; and, with the dew, I can wash the fever from my forehead, and then I shall be unhappy no longer.' And I turned, as if to open my garden gate; and immediately I saw upon the left a scene far different; but which yet the power of dreams had reconciled into harmony with the other. The scene was an oriental one; and there also it was Easter Sunday, and very early in the morning. And at a vast distance were visible, as a stain upon the horizon, the domes and cupolas of a great city - an image or faint abstraction, caught perhaps in childhood from some picture of Jerusalem. And not a bow-shot from me, upon a stone, and shaded by Judean palms, there sat a woman; and I looked; and it was - Ann! She fixed her eyes upon me earnestly; and I said to her at length: 'So then I have found you at last.' I waited: but she answered me not a word. Her face was the same as when I saw it last, and yet again how different! Seventeen years ago, when the lamp-light fell upon her face, as for the last time I kissed her lips (lips, Ann, that to me were not polluted), her eyes were streaming with tears: the tears were now wiped away; she seemed more beautiful than she was at that time, but in all other points the same, and not older. Her looks were tranquil, but with unusual solemnity of expression; and I now gazed upon her with some awe, but suddenly her countenance grew dim, and, turning to the mountains, I perceived vapours rolling between us; in a moment, all had vanished; thick darkness came on; and, in the twinkling of an eye, I was far away from mountains, and by lamp-light in Oxford-street, walking again with Ann - just as we walked seventeen years before, when we were both children.

As a final specimen, I cite one of a different character, from 1820.

The dream commenced with a music which now I often heard in dreams - a music of preparation and of awakening suspense; a music like the opening of the Coronation Anthem, and which, like that, gave the feeling of a vast march - of infinite cavalcades filing off - and the tread of innumerable armies. The morning was come of a mighty day - a day of crisis and of final hope for human nature, then suffering some mysterious eclipse, and labouring in some dread extremity. Somewhere, I knew not where - somehow, I knew not how - by some beings, I knew not whom - a battle, a strife, an agony, was conducting, - was evolving like a great drama, or piece of music; with which my sympathy was the more insupportable from my confusion as to its place, its cause, its nature, and its possible issue. I, as is usual in dreams (where, of necessity, we make ourselves central to every movement), had the power, and yet had not the power, to decide it. I had the power, if I could raise myself, to will it; and yet again had not the power, for the weight of twenty Atlantics was upon me, or the oppression of inexpiable guilt. 'Deeper than ever plummet sounded,' I lay inactive. Then, like a chorus, the passion deepened. Some greater interest was at stake; some mightier cause than ever yet the sword had pleaded, or trumpet had proclaimed. Then came sudden alarms: hurryings to and fro: trepidations of innumerable fugitives, I knew not whether from the good cause or the bad: darkness and lights: tempest and human faces; and at last, with the sense that all was lost, female forms, and the features that were worth all the world to me, and but a moment allowed, - and clasped hands, and heart-breaking partings, and then - everlasting farewells! and with a sigh, such as the caves of hell sighed when the incestuous mother uttered the abhorred name of death, the sound was reverberated - everlasting farewells! and again, and yet again reverberated - everlasting farewells!

And I awoke in struggles, and cried aloud - 'I will sleep no more!'

But I am now called upon to wind up a narrative which has already extended to an unreasonable length. Within more spacious limits, the materials which I have used might have been better unfolded; and much which I have not used might have been added with effect. Perhaps, however, enough has been given. It now remains that I should say something of the way in which this conflict of horrors was finally brought to its crisis. The reader is already aware (from a passage near the beginning of the introduction to the first part) that the opium-eater has, in some way or other, 'unwound, almost to its final links, the accursed chain which bound him.' By what means? To have narrated this, according to the original intention, would have far exceeded the space which can now be allowed. It is fortunate, as such a cogent reason exists for abridging it, that I should, on a maturer view of the case, have been exceedingly unwilling to injure, by any such unaffecting details, the impression of the history itself, as an appeal to the prudence and the conscience of the yet unconfirmed opium-eater - or even (though a very inferior consideration) to injure its effect as a composition. The interest of the judicious reader will not attach itself chiefly to the subject of the fascinating spells, but to the fascinating power. Not the opium-eater, but the opium, is the true hero of the tale; and the legitimate centre on which the interest revolves. The object was to display the marvellous agency of opium, whether for pleasure or for pain: if that is done, the action of the piece has closed.

However, as some people, in spite of all laws to the contrary, will persist in asking what became of the opium-eater, and in what state he now is, I answer for him thus: The reader is aware that opium had long ceased to found its empire on spells of pleasure; it was solely by the tortures connected with the attempt to abjure it, that it kept its hold. Yet, as other tortures, no less it may be thought, attended the non-abjuration of such a tyrant, a choice only of evils was left; and that might as well have been adopted, which, however terrific in itself, held out a prospect of final restoration to happiness. This appears true; but good logic gave the author no strength to act upon it. However, a crisis arrived for the author's life, and a crisis for other objects still dearer to him - and which will always be far dearer to him than his life, even now that it is again a happy one. - I saw that I must die if I continued the opium: I determined, therefore, if that should be required, to die in throwing it off. How much I was at that time taking I cannot say; for the opium which I used had been purchased for me by a friend who afterwards refused to let me pay him; so that I could not ascertain even what quantity I had used within the year. I apprehend, however, that I took it very irregularly: and that I varied from about fifty or sixty grains, to 150 a-day. My first task was to reduce it to forty, to thirty, and, as fast as I could, to twelve grains.

I triumphed: but think not, reader, that therefore my sufferings were ended; nor think of me as of one sitting in a dejected state. Think of me as of one, even when four months had passed, still agitated, writhing, throbbing, palpitating, shattered; and much, perhaps, in the situation of him who has been racked, as I collect the torments of that state from the affecting account of them left by a most innocent sufferer[*] (of the times of James I). Meantime, I derived no benefit from any medicine, except one prescribed to me by an Edinburgh surgeon of great eminence, viz. ammoniated tincture of Valerian. Medical account, therefore, of my emancipation I have not much to give: and even that little, as managed by a man so ignorant of medicine as myself, would probably tend only to mislead. At all events, it would be misplaced in this situation. The moral of the narrative is addressed to the opium-eater; and therefore, of necessity, limited in its application. If he is taught to fear and tremble, enough has been effected. But he may say, that the issue of my case is at least a proof that opium, after a seventeen years' use, and an eight years' abuse of its powers, may still be renounced: and that he may chance to bring to the task greater energy than I did, or that with a stronger constitution than mine he may obtain the same results with less. This may be true: I would not presume to measure the efforts of other men by my own: I heartily wish him more energy: I wish him the same success. Nevertheless, I had motives external to myself which he may unfortunately want: and these supplied me with conscientious supports which mere personal interests might fail to supply to a mind debilitated by opium.

Jeremy Taylor conjectures that it may be as painful to be born as to die: I think it probable: and, during the whole period of diminishing the opium, I had the torments of a man passing out of one mode of existence into another. The issue was not death, but a sort of physical regeneration: and I may add, that ever since, at intervals, I have had a restoration of more than youthful spirits, though under the pressure of difficulties, which, in a less happy state of mind, I should have called misfortunes.

One memorial of my former condition still remains: my dreams are not yet perfectly calm: the dread swell and agitation of the storm have not wholly subsided: the legions that encamped. in them are drawing off, but not all departed: my sleep is still tumultuous, and, like the gates of Paradise to our first parents when looking back from afar, it is still (in the tremendous line of Milton) -

With dreadful faces throng'd and fiery arms.

————————————————————

* The reader must remember what I here mean by thinking: because, else this would be a very presumptuous expression. England, of late, has been rich to excess in fine thinkers, in the departments of creative and combining thought; but there is a sad dearth of masculine thinkers in any analytic path. A Scotchman of eminent name has lately told us, that he is obliged to quit even mathematics, for want of encouragement.

* William Lithgow: his book (Travels, &c.) is ill and pedantically written: but the account of his own sufferings on the rack at Malaga is overpoweringly affecting.

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

文明与缺憾

（英汉双语）

［奥］西格蒙德·弗洛伊德　著

［英］大卫·麦克林托克　英译

王冬梅　马传兵　汉译

中 国 出 版 集 团 公 司

中国对外翻译出版有限公司

图书在版编目（CIP）数据

文明与缺憾：英汉双语/（奥）弗洛伊德（Freud, S.）著；王冬梅，马传兵译．—北京：中国对外翻译出版有限公司，2011.12

（企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想）

ISBN 978-7-5001-3324-7

Ⅰ．①文…　Ⅱ．①弗…　②王…　③马…　Ⅲ．①英语—汉语—对照读物　②精神分析—研究　Ⅳ．①H319.4:B

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2011）第247569号

（著作权合同登记：图字01-2012-1434号）

www.penguin.com

Des Unbehagen in der Kultur first published 1930

This translation first published in Penguin Books 2002

This edition first published 2004

Sigmund Freud's German texts collected as Gesammelte Werke（1940-52）

copyright 1941, 1948 by Imago Publishing Co. Ltd

Translation copyright © David McLintock, 2002

All rights reserved

Taken from the New Penguin Freud edition of Civilization and Its Discontents,

translated by David McLintock and introduced by Leo Bersani

The moral right of the translator has been asserted

Set in Monotype Dante

Typeset by Rowland Phototypesetting Ltd, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk

出版发行／中国对外翻译出版有限公司

地　　址／北京市西城区车公庄大街甲4号物华大厦6层

电　　话／（010）68359376　68359303　68359719

邮　　编／100044　　　　　　　　　传　　真／（010）68357870

电子邮箱／book@ctpc.com.cn

网　　址／http://www.ctpc.com.cn

出版策划／张高里　　　　　　　　　责任编辑／胡晓凯　梁　斐

封面设计／奇文堂·潘峰　　　　　　排　　版／竹叶图文

印　　刷／保定市中画美凯印刷有限公司

规　　格／760×940毫米　1/32　　　印　　张／6.25

版　　次／2012年3月第一版　　　　 印　　次／2012年3月第一次

ISBN 978-7-5001-3324-7　定价：14.00元

“企鹅”及相关标识是企鹅图书有限公司已经注册或尚未注册的商标。

未经允许，不得擅用。

中国对外翻译出版有限公司与企鹅图书有限公司联合出版

观　念

——《伟大的思想》代序

梁文道

每隔一段时间，媒体就喜欢评选一次“影响世界的X个人”或者“改变历史的X项发明”。然而，在我看来，几乎所有人类史上最重大的变革，首先都是一种观念的变革。

我们今天之所以会关注气候的暖化与生物多样性的保存，是因为我们看待地球的方式变了，我们比以前更加意识到人在自然中的位置，也更加了解自然其实是一个动态的系统。放弃了人类可以主宰地球的世界观，这就意味着我们接受了一个观念的变化。同样地，我们不再相信男人一出生就该主宰女人，甚至也不再认为男女之别是不可动摇的本质区分；这也是观念的变化。如果说环保运动和女权运动有任何影响的话，那些影响一定就是从大脑开始的。也不要只看好事，20世纪最惨绝人寰的浩劫最初也只不过是一些小小的观念，危险的观念。比如说一位德国人，他相信人类的进化必以“次等种族”的灭绝为代价……

这套丛书不叫“伟大的巨著”，是因为它们体积都不大，而且还有不少是抽取自某些名著的章节。可它们却全是伟大的观念，例如达尔文论天择，潘恩论常识，它们共同构成了人类的观念地图。从头看它们一遍，就是检视文明所走过的道路，从深处理解我们今天变成这个样子的原因。

也许你会发现其中有些陌生的名字，或者看起来没有那么“伟大”的篇章（譬如普鲁斯特追忆他的阅读时光），但你千万不要小看它们。因为真正重要、真正能够产生启蒙效果的观念往往具有跨界移动的能力，它会跨越时空，离开它原属的领域，在另一个世界产生意外的效果。就像马可·波罗在监狱里述说的异国图景，当时有谁料得到那些荒诞的故事会诱发出哥伦布的旅程呢？我也无法猜测，这套小书的读者里头会不会有下一个哥伦布，他将带着令人惊奇的观念航向自己的大海。

《伟大的思想》中文版序

企鹅《伟大的思想》丛书2004年开始出版。在英国，已付印80种，尚有20种计划出版。美国出版的丛书规模略小，德国的同类丛书规模更小一些。丛书销量已远远超过200万册，在全球很多人中间，尤其是学生当中，普及了哲学和政治学。中文版《伟大的思想》丛书的推出，迈出了新的一步，令人欢欣鼓舞。

推出这套丛书的目的是让读者再次与一些伟大的非小说类经典著作面对面地交流。太长时间以来，确定版本依据这样一个假设——读者在教室里学习这些著作，因此需要导读、详尽的注释、参考书目等。此类版本无疑非常有用，但我想，如果能够重建托马斯·潘恩《常识》或约翰·罗斯金《艺术与人生》初版时的环境，重新营造更具亲和力的氛围，那也是一件有意思的事。当时，读者除了原作者及其自身的理性思考外没有其他参照。

这样做有一定的缺点：每个作者的话难免有难解或不可解之处，一些重要的背景知识会缺失。例如，读者对亨利·梭罗创作时的情况毫无头绪，也不了解该书的接受情况及影响。不过，这样做的优点也很明显。最突出的优点是，作者的初衷又一次变得重要起来——托马斯·潘恩的愤怒、查尔斯·达尔文的灵光、塞内加的隐逸。这些作家在那么多国家影响了那么多人的生活，其影响不可估量，有的长达几个世纪，读他们书的乐趣罕有匹敌。没有亚当·斯密或阿图尔·叔本华，难以想象我们今天的世界。这些小书的创作年代已很久远，但其中的话已彻底改变了我们的政治学、经济学、智力生活、社会规划和宗教信仰。

《伟大的思想》丛书一直求新求变。地区不同，收录的作家也不同。在中国或美国，一些作家更受欢迎。英国《伟大的思想》收录的一些作家在其他地方则默默无闻。称其为“伟大的思想”，我们亦慎之又慎。思想之伟大，在于其影响之深远，而不意味着这些思想是“好”的，实际上一些书可列入“坏”思想之列。丛书中很多作家受到同一丛书其他作家的很大影响，例如，马塞尔·普鲁斯特承认受约翰·罗斯金影响很大，米歇尔·德·蒙田也承认深受塞内加影响，但其他作家彼此憎恨，如果发现他们被收入同一丛书，一定会气愤难平。不过，读者可自行决定这些思想是否合理。我们衷心希望，您能在阅读这些杰作中得到乐趣。

《伟大的思想》出版者

西蒙·温德尔

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

Penguin's Great Ideas series began publication in 2004. In the UK we now have 80 copies in print with plans to publish a further 20. A somewhat smaller list is published in the USA and a related, even smaller series in Germany. The books have sold now well over two million copies and have popularized philosophy and politics for many people around the world – particularly students. The launch of a Chinese Great Ideas series is an extremely exciting new development.

The intention behind the series was to allow readers to be once more face to face with some of the great nonfiction classics. For too long the editions of these books were created on the assumption that you were studying them in the classroom and that the student needed an introduction, extensive notes, a bibliography and so on. While this sort of edition is of course extremely useful, I thought it would be interesting to recreate a more intimate feeling – to recreate the atmosphere in which, for example, Thomas Paine's Common Sense or John Ruskin's On Art and Life was first published – where the reader has no other guide than the original author and his or her own common sense.

This method has its severe disadvantages – there will inevitably be statements made by each author which are either hard or impossible to understand, some important context might be missing. For example the reader has no clue as to the conditions under which Henry Thoreau was writing his book and the reader cannot be aware of the book's reception or influence. The advantages however are very clear – most importantly the original intentions of the author become once more important. The sense of anger in Thomas Paine, of intellectual excitement in Charles Darwin, of resignation in Seneca – few things can be more thrilling than to read writers who have had such immeasurable influence on so many lives, sometimes for centuries, in many different countries. Our world would not make sense without Adam Smith or Arthur Schopenhauer – our politics, economics, intellectual lives, social planning, religious beliefs have all been fundamentally changed by the words in these little books, first written down long ago.

The Great Ideas series continues to change and evolve. In different parts of the world different writers would be included. In China or in the United States there are some writers who are liked much more than others. In the UK there are writers in the Great Ideas series who are ignored elsewhere. We have also been very careful to call the series Great Ideas – these ideas are great because they have been so enormously influential, but this does not mean that they are Good Ideas – indeed some of the books would probably qualify as Bad Ideas. Many of the writers in the series have been massively influenced by others in the series – for example Marcel Proust owned so much to John Ruskin, Michel de Montaigne to Seneca. But others hated each other and would be distressed to find themselves together in the same series! But readers can decide the validity of these ideas for themselves. We very much hope that you enjoy these remarkable books.

Simon Winder

Publisher

Great Ideas

目录

观　念——《伟大的思想》代序

《伟大的思想》中文版序

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

文明与缺憾

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

Civilization and Its Discontents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

返回总目录

文明与缺憾

1

人通常会追逐权力、成功与财富，羡慕别人所拥有的这一切，却对生命中真正有价值的事物不予重视，并且依据错误的标准做出判断——人们很容易发出这样的感慨。然而，做出如此笼统的概括，很容易忽略人类物质世界和精神世界的丰富多彩。有一些人受到同时代人的尊崇，然而其伟大品质和功绩却往往与很多人的理想和目标不相符合。人们或许认为这些伟人毕竟只为少数人所欣赏，而大多数人对他们毫无兴趣。然而，由于人们思想和行为方式的差异，个人欲望和追求的不同，事情恐怕不会如此简单。

有这样一位杰出人士，与我有通信往来，并在信中称我为好友。我曾给他写过一封简短的信，称宗教乃是幻想。他回信说，对我的见解表示完全赞成，但他很遗憾我未能理解人们对宗教虔诚的真正根源。这种根源在于一种特别的感觉，他自己就从未摆脱过这种感觉，也在很多人身上得到验证，因此他认为这种感觉亦应该为千万人所共有，他称之为“永生”，一种无边无际的“如海洋般浩淼”的感觉。他继续说，这种感觉纯粹是主观的，不是一种信条，不能确保人们永存，但却是宗教力量的源泉，为各个教派和宗教体系所利用，被引到特定的渠道，自然被这些教派和宗教体系吸收和利用。单凭这种海洋般无边无尽的感觉，人们即可称自己是信奉宗教的，即使他们拒绝相信任何信条、任何幻想。

我那可敬的朋友[1]曾经以诗的形式赞扬了幻想的魔力。他的观点给我造成了不小的困惑。我自身丝毫不能感到这种“如海洋般浩淼”的感觉。要知道让科学理性地对待感觉是很不容易的。人们可能会试图描述感觉的生理表现，但这是行不通的，而且恐怕这种“如海洋般浩淼”的感觉是无助于描述的。我们能做的只是研究那些与感觉最为接近的概念性的东西。如果我没有理解错的话，我那朋友指的“如海洋般浩淼”的感觉是一种慰藉，就像一位古怪却又才思新颖的作家给予选择结束自己生命的主角的一种安慰：“我们不会脱离这个世界的。”这是一种与身外世界紧密相联的归属感。对于我来说这属于一种理性的领悟，当然也不乏情感的色彩，尽管在其他类似的思维活动中也不乏情感色彩。凭借我自己的经验，我实在无法让自己信服这种“如海洋般浩淼”的感觉。但我无法否认在他人身上这种感觉实实在在地存在着。然而，唯一的问题是，这种感觉是否得到了准确的解释，或者说是否应该理所当然地看做是宗教的源泉。

对于这一问题，我也没有决定性的、建设性的解决建议。但仅仅凭一种直接的感觉，来告知人们与外部世界存在的联系，并用来解释人们需要宗教的原因，这样的想法从一开始听上去就很奇怪，并且与我们的心理结构不相吻合。因此，我们需要找出一种心理分析的方法，对于这种感觉的遗传起源做出合理的解释。以下的思路即论证了这一点。我们通常不会产生比对自我更确定的感觉。人们大多会觉得这种自我是独立的整体，并与一切其他的东西对立。其实不然，心理分析学的研究首先告诉我们这是错误的，事实上自我向内在延伸，延伸至一种我们称之为本我的无意识心理实体，且界限模糊不清；自我就好像是本我的外表。对于自我与本我的关系，心理分析仍有很多方面可向我们揭示。然而至少表面来看，自我的轮廓似乎可以被清晰分明地勾勒出来。只有一种状态——诚然是一种不寻常的状态，但不应被贬为病态的状态——自我不再轮廓分明。在情爱的巅峰状态，自我与对象的界限会变得模糊。尽管与认识相悖，恋爱中的人们总会宣称“我”和“你”是一体的，并且随时表现得像一体的。这种自我与外界的界限能够暂时地被生理功能打断，自然也会被疾病打断。病理学的研究让我们认识到，在很多情况下自我与外部世界的界限会变得模糊不清，或者说根本是被错误地划分了。在有些病例中，人身体的某些部分，甚至是精神生活的某些部分，如观念、思想、感觉，似乎变得很陌生，从自我中分离开来。在另一些情况中，他把那些明显产生于自我并应该得到自我认识的事情归于外部世界。因此，即使是自身的感觉也会产生混乱，而且自身的界限并不是恒定的。

通过进一步的思考，我们便可知道，成年人对于自己的感觉不可能与刚出生时相同，它必然经过了一个发展的过程。可以理解的是，这样的过程并不能被实际演示出来，但在很大程度上可以重构。对于一个新生儿来说，外部世界就是其感觉的由来；一开始，他并未将自我与外部世界分离开来。但在外部各种刺激的作用下，他逐渐学会了将自我与外界区分开来。他会发现，有些刺激源任何时候都可以向其传递感觉，后来他认识到这些刺激源属于自己的器官；而另外一些——包括他最渴望的东西，如母亲的乳房，会暂时挪开，只有通过哭喊才会重回眼前，以上这些区别一定给他留下了深刻的印象。正是以这种方式，自我首次碰到了“客体”，即某种外在的事物，只有通过特定的行为，才能促使它出现。将自我从各种感觉中分离出来，进而认识到“外部世界”；更进一步的诱因来自频繁的、各种各样的不可避免的痛苦（或者说幸福缺失），这种痛苦的感觉，只有在快乐原则发挥绝对作用时，才能得以避免和消除。于是这样一种趋势就会产生，即将自我和任何可能产生这样不愉快体验的事物区分开，并将这种不愉快的体验赶走，以便建立与一个陌生、险恶的外部世界相抗衡的纯粹追求快乐的自我。这种以快乐为导向的原始自我必然会受到经验的修正。毕竟，有些给予我们快乐、我们不愿放弃的事物并不属于自我，而属于客体；而另外一些我们想要消除的折磨和痛苦，却证明是来自内部，与自我密不可分。于是，我们掌握了一种方法，通过有目的性地控制我们的感觉活动和合适的肌体运动，来区分什么是来自内部的（即属于自我的），什么是来自外部的（即来自外界的）。这就向建立现实世界原则迈出了第一步，对未来发展起着支配作用。这种内部和外部的区分具有现实意义，使人们免于不愉快的经历对自己造成的威胁。事实上，自我在驱除源于内部的某些不愉快感觉时，如果采取与驱除来源于外部不愉快事物同样的手段，往往会成为重大心理疾病的起始点。

自我正是通过这种方法使其从外部世界中分离开来。更确切地说，自我在一开始是包括一切的，只是后来从自身中分离出了一个外部的世界。于是，我们现在的自我感觉，只是更为广泛、包罗万象的一种感觉的浓缩物，与自我和周边世界更为密切的联系相一致。如果我们可以做如下假设，即自我的这种原始的感觉某种程度上在人们的精神生活中存续下来，那么它会像一个搭档，与范围狭窄、严格界定的成熟的自我感觉共存。与之相对应的内容就是那些与宇宙一体和无边无际的概念，即我的朋友常用来阐释“如海洋般浩淼”的感觉的概念。但我们是否可以这样假定：最初存在的事物仍然会存续下去，与后来从中演化而来的事物共同存在呢？

毋庸置疑！这种情况无论发生在精神领域还是其他领域，都不足为奇。以动物世界为例，人们通常认为动物是由低级向高级进化的。然而，如今所有低级形式的生命依然存在。有些大型爬行动物，如大型蜥蜴，已经灭绝或进化成哺乳动物，但大型爬行动物真正的代表——鳄鱼却依然存在。这样的类比或许有点牵强，况且很多存活下来的低级物种也并非现存的高级物种的祖先，中间的环节大多已经消失了，我们只能通过重新构建才可以得知，这就削弱了这个类比的可比性。然而，在精神领域，原始的感觉与从中演化出来的感觉是共存的。这样的现象非常普遍，不必举例去证明。这往往是发展中的分叉导致，即一部分（从数量上讲）态度或者本能冲动保持不变，而另一部分却得到进一步发展。

由此，又提起一个精神领域里更为普遍的记忆和保留的问题，这一问题几乎尚未研究过，却充满研究魅力、意义重大，我们不妨探讨一下，尽管理由尚不够充分。我们曾经认为，我们经常遗忘是因为记忆痕迹的破坏，即记忆痕迹的消亡，但在纠正了这一错误观点之后，我们发现事实恰恰相反。即在精神生活中，一样东西一旦形成就永远都不会消失，一切皆以某种形式得到保存，条件合适时，皆可找回。例如，只要（因催眠或精神疾患）回到从前，即可找回当时的记忆。这样的假设意味着什么，让我们试着用另一领域的类比来揭示。以“永恒的城市”的发展为例，历史学家告诉我们最早期的罗马是一个四方城，是帕拉蒂尼山上用栅栏围起来的居住点。之后是七山城阶段，是由各个分散的山丘上的居住点组成的联盟。接着，是塞维安墙围起来的城市。再之后，经过罗马共和国的不断变迁，以及经历过帝国时代的早期，就成了奥瑞里安皇帝用城墙围起来的城市。我们不再向前追溯城市所经历的种种变迁了，只是不由自主地会想，如果一个拥有丰富历史学与地形学知识的旅行者去罗马旅游时，他能发现罗马早期各个阶段的多少遗迹呢？他会发现除了一些缺口，奥瑞里安的城墙并没有多大的变化。他可以不时地看到挖掘出土显露出来的一段段塞维安城墙上的痕迹。凭借足够的考古学知识（至少要比当今考古学家具有更丰富的知识）他能看出整个塞维安城墙的整体布局，透过现代罗马城的规划他能看到罗马四方城的轮廓。至于古城中曾经的建筑物，他是无论如何也无法找到的，因为他们已经不存在了，顶多能找到一些残片而已。关于罗马共和国的丰富知识至多能使他指出罗马古城中的庙宇在当时究竟位于何方，公共建筑究竟曾经建于何处。现在这些地方早已被废墟掩盖——但并非是原来建筑的废墟，而是在这些建筑被焚烧、破坏后又建起来的建筑的废墟。无须赘言，古罗马的这些遗迹，已成为碎片，散落在文艺复兴后近代兴建的大都市的混乱之中。诚然，旧址依然存在，只是掩埋在现代建筑之下。像罗马这样的历史古城，过去就是这样延续下来的。

现在让我们做这样一个奇妙的假想，即假定罗马并非是一个人们居住的地方，而是一个与罗马一样有着漫长而丰富多彩历史的精神实体。在这个精神实体中，一旦形成的东西就不会消失，并且先前的发展时期与现今是共存的。对罗马而言，就相当于一直到被哥特人围攻时，塞弗尤斯宫殿与恺撒大帝皇宫依然矗立在帕拉蒂尼山上；圣安吉罗堡的城垛上仍然装饰着美丽的塑像。不仅如此，朱庇特神庙会屹立在卡法莱里-克莱门蒂诺宫之上，而没有必要将后者移除，而且，这座神庙不仅具有当时的形态，即罗马帝国时期所见到的形态，还保留着更早期的姿态，依然保留着伊特鲁里亚人的元素，其檐口依然用陶瓦装饰。在如今的圆形大剧场，我们仍然可以欣赏已经消失的尼禄时代金色的房屋。在万神殿广场上，我们不仅可以找到今天由哈德良传给我们的万神殿，同时，还能找到拉格瑞帕人所建的最初的大厦；在同一块土地上，矗立着密涅瓦圣玛丽亚教堂以及该教堂的前身，即古老的神庙。观察者也许只需要改变他的视线或位置就可以看到其中一个或另一个。

显然，再进一步展开这样的想象毫无意义：结果会无法想象，甚至荒诞可笑。我们要在空间上表现历史顺序，唯一的办法就是将空间铺开并列，因为同一空间不能存放两个不同的事物。这样的尝试似乎是一项没有意义的游戏。唯一的正当理由是：它向我们表明，通过形象的描述，我们距离掌握精神生活的特性还有多远。

但是有一个异议我们必须回应。人们或许会问，为什么要把一个城市的过去与我们精神的过去相提并论呢？即便是对于我们的精神而言，一切过去皆被保存下来，这个假定也得满足一个前提，即我们的大脑必须是完整的，其组织结构没有受到创伤或炎症的损害。这些疾病的原因可以比做是破坏性的因素。然而对于一个城市而言，这些破坏性因素是司空见惯的，即便这个城市不像罗马那样动荡不安，即便像伦敦那样几乎没有遭到外敌的蹂躏。一个城市的和平发展少不了拆除和更新一些建筑，基于此，任何城市都无法与精神有机体相比。

我们欣然接受这样的异议，放弃鲜明对比的做法，转而与更为相关的事物相比较，如动物肌体和人类肌体。但这里我们也会发现同样的问题。肌体成长的早期阶段根本没有被保存下来，只是为后期阶段提供材料，并被吸收到后期阶段。成年人的身体中是找不到胚胎的，儿童的胸腺在青春期之后会被结缔组织取代，胸腺的形式不复存在。在成年人的骨骼之中，固然可以找到儿童时代骨骼的大致轮廓，但骨骼在不断加长、增厚并最终定型，在这一生长过程中，儿童的骨骼形态消失了。事实上，早期阶段与最终的形态并存，也许只有在精神领域中才可能发生，我们根本无法拿其他事物与精神相提并论，并试图阐释精神这一现象。

也许我们在这个问题上扯得太远了。或许我们应该满足于这样的结论，即过去在精神生活中可能会得到保存，没有必要被摧毁。情况可能是这样的：即使是在精神领域之中，过去、陈旧的东西也会变得模糊或者被吸收，不管是在事物的正常发展情况之下或者是在其他例外情况下。更有甚者，我们不能利用任何方法使它们恢复到原来的状态，又或许只有在特定的有利条件下我们才可能做到。对于这一点，我们无法得知。我们唯一能做的就是坚信在精神世界中，对过去的保存记忆是一条定律，而非令人惊讶的例外。

因此，如果我们准备承认许多人都有那一种“如海洋般浩淼”的感觉，并欲将其追溯到自我感觉的早期阶段，那么一个新的问题就又出现了：是什么东西使得这种感觉被认做是宗教需要的源泉呢？

我并不觉得这种说法是令人信服的。毕竟一种感觉只有是某种强烈需要的表现时，才能成为力量的源泉。我认为，宗教的需要无疑是从婴儿的无助，和由此引起的对父亲的渴望中衍生出来的，尤其因为这种感觉不仅仅存在于童年时代，而且由于恐惧命运的至上权力，它被永久地保存了下来。我实在无法找出对于儿童来说比父亲的保护更加强烈的需求。因此，那种可能力图恢复无限自恋的“如海洋般浩淼”的感觉，在宗教需要中就不可能发挥主要作用。人们信奉宗教的缘由，可以清晰地追溯到孩子的无助的感觉中。可能这其后还隐藏着什么，但目前我们还不得而知。

我可以想象这种“如海洋般浩淼”的感觉随后与宗教发生了联系。与这种浩淼感觉相连的观念认识是，“自我与宇宙融为一体”，这成为把宗教当做慰藉的初步尝试，即以另一种方式否认自我感觉到的源于外界的危险。我不得不再次承认研究这些无形的概念非常困难。我的另一个朋友怀着对知识的极大渴求，做了一个极其不寻常的实验，变得似乎无所不知。他向我保证说，人们在练习瑜伽的过程中，背对外界，将注意力集中到肌体的功能之上，运用特殊的呼吸方式，可以获得全新的、宇宙般的感觉。他把这样的感觉解释成向精神生活被长久掩盖的原始形态的回归。他由此可以说看到了神秘主义智慧的重要生理基础；也找到了这与诸如恍惚、入迷这类难解的精神状态的关系。但我还是忍不住用席勒民谣中潜水者的话来说：

……让他欣悦吧，那在玫瑰色的光芒中呼吸的人。

————————————————————

[1] 罗曼·罗兰。

2

在《幻想的未来》一书中，我关注的重点不是宗教情感极其深奥的起源，而是普通人所理解的宗教。宗教以其令人称羡的完整教义和应许体系，一方面向人们解释世界之谜，另一方面宽慰着人们，称细心的上帝会照看他们的生活，现世他们所遭受的苦难，在未来世界会得到上帝的补偿。除了至尊高尚的父亲形象，普通人再也想象不出什么来形容这个上帝。只有这样的父亲才能理解人类孩子的需要，才能被他们的请求所感化，才能被他们的忏悔所打动。这整个想法显然太幼稚，与现实相去太远，因此想到大多数人都无法超越这样的人生观，不能不让博爱的心灵感到疼痛。更令人不安的是，尽管今天很多人已经知道这种宗教是站不住脚的，却仍然企图采取可悲的措施一步一步地来捍卫它。人们喜欢混进教徒的行列以便对付某些哲学家，并提醒他们不要触犯十诫之一：“你们不要轻慢地谈论主，亵渎你们的上帝！”因为这些哲学家们认为他们能拯救宗教的上帝，其办法是把他变成一条非人格化的模糊抽象的原则。如果过去的某些伟人们这么做了，我们不能指责他们，因为我们知道他们不得不这么做的原因。

再让我们回到普通人及其宗教的话题上来，即唯一能称之为宗教的宗教。我们首先想到的就是最伟大的诗人和思想家之一歌德的一句著名的有关宗教和艺术、科学关系的评论：

拥有科学和艺术的人同时也就拥有了宗教，如果两者都不具的人，那就让他信奉宗教吧！

这句话一方面将宗教和人类最高的两项成就——科学和艺术做了比较；又从另一方面声明了宗教、科学、艺术在人生中的价值，认为宗教与后两项成就可以互相说明、互相替代。想剥夺一个既不拥有科学又不拥有艺术的普通人信奉宗教的权利，我们显然缺乏像诗人歌德那样的权威。要深刻理解和欣赏歌德的主张，我们须另辟蹊径。生活赋予我们太多难以承受的困难：它带来太多痛苦，太多失望，太多无法解决的问题。要容忍它，我们就不得不采取一些缓和的措施。（正如特奥多尔·冯塔纳告诉我们的：没有帮助，你什么也做不了。）此类缓和措施大概有三种：有效地分散注意力，这能使我们忽视所承受的苦难；替代性的满足，这能减弱我们的痛苦；麻醉物质，这能麻痹我们对痛苦的感知。诸如此类的东西是必不可少的。[1]伏尔泰在写作《天真》的结尾时劝解人们去打理一个属于自己的花园，这样就能分散转移自己对苦难的注意力。学术活动也是此类分散转移。作为替代性满足的手段之一，艺术是与现实相悖的幻想，但正因为幻想在精神生活中所扮演的重要角色，这些幻想其实在心理上同样有效。麻醉物质影响我们的肉体并改变了它的化学物质。在这一系列的手段中，界定宗教占有的位置并不容易。我们因此必须看得更远一些。

人生的目的是什么？这个问题已经被提出过无数次，至今没有一个令人满意的回答，或许这个问题根本就没有答案。一些提出这个问题的人补充说，如果人生注定没有目的，那么人生对人们而言也就失去了价值。但这种威胁也改变不了什么。相反，人们似乎有权不去考虑这个问题。这种威胁似乎只是建立在此种人为的假设之上，诸如此类的例子不胜枚举。没有人讨论动物是为了什么而活，除非是为了服务于人类的目的。但是这种观点同样站不住脚，因为世上还有很多动物，人类除了对他们进行描述、分类并且研究，其他什么也做不了；许多物种甚至连这种用途都没有，因为早在被人们发现之前，它们就已经灭绝了。似乎只有宗教才能回答人活着是为了什么这个谜题。因此人生具有目的的观点成立与否就取决于宗教体系，得出这样的推断几乎是不会错的。

于是我们现在将话题转向一个更适中的问题：人类本身的行为揭示出其人生的目标和目的到底是什么？人们对生活有什么预期呢？回答毫无疑问：他们追求快乐幸福，希望得到幸福并一直幸福下去。这种追求有正反两个目标：一方面它旨在消除一切痛苦和不愉快的经历，另一方面旨在获得强烈的快乐感。幸福，从严格意义上讲只与后者有关。与人类追求目的的二分法相一致的是，人类活动，根据其寻求实现的主要目的或唯一目的，也朝着两个方向展开。

正如我们所看到的，正是快乐原则决定了人生的目的。这原则从一开始就支配着我们的精神器官。它的效力是毋庸置疑的。然而它与整个世界——无论是宏观的还是微观的——都是相悖的。整个宇宙的建构都是与快乐相悖的，因此快乐原则无法实现；人们赞同“人类应该获得幸福”并不是“创世”意图的一部分。从最严格的意义上来讲，我们所称的“幸福”产生于压抑的需求突然得到的满足。幸福的本质决定了幸福只能是暂时的。当快乐原则所渴望的某种情况被延长时，只能带来一种微弱的满足感。我们天生就只能从对比中获得强烈的快感，从某一状态本身只能获得很少的快乐。[2]因此，我们幸福的可能性已经被我们的气质所限制。生活中，我们更容易经历不幸。苦难从三个方面威胁着我们：肉体上，我们注定要衰败、腐烂，且从来都是与疼痛、焦虑这些警告信号相伴；外部世界方面，它会向我们施加巨大的、难以平息的、破坏性的压力；最后是人际关系。人际关系可能给我们带来比前两者更大的痛苦。尽管我们倾向于把这种苦难看做是额外附加的，但它或许与源自其他方面的苦难一样，无法避免。

正如快乐原则本身在外部世界的影响下经过改造变成折中的“现实原则”一样，在可能会发生的种种苦难的压力之下，难怪人们也习以为常地去调和对幸福的要求，认为如果摆脱苦恼、逃离不幸就是万幸了，避免苦难这一主要任务当前，获得快乐已经变得次要了。思考告诉我们条条道路皆可通向幸福大道，所有这些道路都曾为各派处世哲学所推崇，且前人都已经实践过。无限制地满足我们所有的需要是最具诱惑力的生活方式，但这意味着将警告抛之脑后，享乐在前，很快就会尝到苦果。其他以避免苦难为首要目的的方法由于它们所关注的不快的根源不同而有所差异。有些方法很极端，有些方法很中庸，有些很片面，还有些同时从几个角度解决问题。与世隔绝、与他人保持适当距离都是常见的为避免人际关系带来的痛苦而采取的保护方式。有人认为能通过这种方式获得的快乐来自平静与安宁。面对可怕的外部世界，如果想不借助外力单枪匹马地保护自己，就只能选择逃避。当然还有其他更好的方式：作为人类社会的一分子，你能在应用科学的帮助下对自然发动攻击，使其屈从于人类的意志。那么，这样做你就是与大家一起为了所有人的幸福而努力。避免苦难最有趣的方法是那些试图影响人类自身结构的方法。归根结底，所有的苦难不过是一种感觉，只有当我们感觉到它的时候，它才存在；也只有在我们自身结构受某种方式调节的时候，我们才能感觉到它。

影响我们自身结构的最原始同时也是最有效的方法是化学方法——麻醉法。我想，没有人完全明白化学方法是如何起作用的，但事实就是，有些外因物质一旦出现在血液或人体组织中，就会直接引起快感；这些物质同时还会改变决定我们感觉能力的因子，使我们不再感到不快。这两种影响不仅同时出现，而且密切相关。然而，在我们身体的化学结构中，也一定存在着发挥类似作用的物质。因为，我们至少知道一种病症，即狂躁症，在没有使用任何致醉药物的情况下，就出现了麻醉状态。除此之外，在我们正常的精神生活中，还存在着在比较容易释放的快乐与比较不易释放的快乐这两者之间的摆动，与这种摆动相对应的是接受不快的程度的减少或增加。令人非常遗憾的是，科学研究至今还不能解释精神过程的这种麻醉情况。人们认为麻醉物质在追求幸福和避免苦难的过程中大有裨益，因此，不仅仅个人，就连整个民族在力比多的分配中也赋予了它坚固的地位。多亏了麻醉物质，我们不仅能够直接获得快感，而且满足了我们摆脱外界的强烈渴望。我们知道，通过麻醉法“解忧”，我们随时能够逃避现实的压力，躲避在自己的世界里，体会这个世界带来的更好的感觉。众所皆知，正是麻醉物的这种特质使其更具危险性和伤害性。在有些情形下，麻醉物质浪费了本可造福于人类的大量能量。

然而，我们的精神器官结构复杂，也受到很多其他影响。正如欲望的满足会带来幸福感一样，如果外部世界拒绝满足或忽视我们的需求，就会成为巨大苦难的根由。因此人们可以通过干预这些本能的冲动来将自己从痛苦中解救出来。这种抵御痛苦的行为不再是对感觉器官施加影响，它旨在控制我们需求的内在根源。在极端的例子中，这种行为是通过扼杀本能欲望实现的，就像东方哲学智慧所说的那样，就像瑜伽所做的那样。如果这种方法成功了，人们就无可否认地同时放弃了其他活动——事实上，牺牲了他的生活——只为沿另一路线抵达幸福的彼岸，这种幸福源自平和与安宁。当我们的目标不那么极端时，我们走的也是这条道路，不过寻求的只是控制自己的本能罢了。在这种情况下，控制是由已经服从现实原则的较高心理机制实施的。与此同时，绝不是说要抛弃满足欲望的目标，而是获得了针对苦难的某种保护机制。因为当欲望冲动得到控制，而不是完全不受节制的时候，欲望得不到满足给人带来的痛苦会相对较轻。但不可否认的是，快乐的可能性也减少了。满足没有受到自我控制的野性的本能冲动所产生的快感，相比较于满足受到自我控制的本能所带来的快感，自然是强烈许多。这就简洁地解释了反常本能冲动的不可抗拒性，以及任何禁忌物所具有的吸引力。

另一种避免苦难的技巧是利用力比多的转移，这种转移是我们精神器官所允许的，这就使得力比多的作用具有更大的灵活性。现在的任务就是使本能的目标发生转移，不再会受到外部世界的挫折。这里本能的升华扮演了重要的角色。如果人们能充分地增加精神和脑力活动所产生的快乐，我们就能获得最大的收益。这时命运也无法对我们造成多大伤害。这类满足——如艺术家们在创造、塑造他想象的东西的过程中获得的快乐；抑或是科学家们在解决问题和发现真理中获得的快乐——具有一种特性，那就是，总有一天我们能用心理玄学的术语描述它。但现在我们只能象征性地说，它们看上去“更好更高级”。但与原始、初级欲望的满足所获得的效果相比，这类满足的强度还是受到了限制：这类满足不能震撼我们的肉体。这种方法的缺点在于它不能广泛应用，它只适用于一小部分人。它首先把才能和天赋作为先决条件，这些天赋并非人人皆备，因此不能普及到使这一方法对每个人都有效。并且即使在那一小部分人中，这种方法也不能完全抵御苦难，它并不能提供抵挡命运箭矢的盔甲。当人们自身的躯体成为了苦难的源泉时[3]，它就必然失效了。

上述这种方法清楚地表明，其目的是通过从内在的精神活动过程中寻找满足感，从而使人独立于外部世界。这种特征在接下来的方法中体现得更加明显，人与现实的关系更加松散，满足由幻想中获得。人们承认幻想，从中获得的享受并没有因为幻想来源于现实而受到干扰。产生这些幻想的领域就是想象力的活动；当现实感出现时，这个领域显然不受制于现实检查的要求，依然一如既往地去满足那些难以实现的欲望。需依靠想象才能获得的满足中，居于首位的要算是对艺术品的欣赏了；借助于艺术家之手，那些本身没有创造力的凡夫俗子也能获得艺术的享受。但受到艺术影响的人不可能把艺术作为快乐源泉和生活慰藉的价值看得过高。艺术产生的微弱的麻醉作用只能使我们暂时性地摆脱了生活的苦难。它的作用并没有强烈到能让我们忘却现实的痛苦。

另一种操作起来更有力、更彻底的方法则将现实视为唯一的敌人和所有苦难的源头；认为人们生活中根本无法忍受现实，要想真正感到幸福，就必须断绝一切与现实的联系。隐士们于是避世不出，拒绝与现实有任何联系。但其实人能做的不止这些：人们可以努力去改造这个世界，重建一个世界，新世界中消除了那些最让人无法容忍的事物，取而代之的是符合人们欲望的事物。一般来说，任何人选择这条道路去追寻幸福，因为不顾一切地去反抗，最终将一无所获。现实对他来说太强大了，他将成为一个狂人，通常找不到人帮助实现他的幻想。然而我们可以这么认为，我们中的每个人都表现得或多或少像个偏执狂，痴心妄想地要去矫正这个世界中无法忍受的部分，并将幻想纳入到现实中。其中具有重要意义的例子是，相当多的人一起试图通过幻想重新塑造现实，来避免痛苦，寻求幸福与庇护。人类的各种宗教应该就是集体幻想的典型例子。当然，没有一个依然持有这种幻想的人会承认这是幻想。

我认为，这并不是一个人们追求幸福、避免痛苦的所有方法的清单。我也清楚这些材料可用不同的方式排列。其实还有一种方法我尚未提及，并不是因为忘记，而是因为这种方法涉及我们以后要讲的内容。在生活艺术中人们怎么会忘掉这一特别的方法呢？其特点是，它将各种特征极其奇特地组合在一起。自然，它也寻求独立于所谓的命运，为达到这一目的，它利用我们前文中所提及的力比多转移法，将满足感转移到内在的精神过程中。但它并不脱离外部世界，相反，它紧紧地抓住了外部世界的对象，并通过建立与外部世界对象的情感联系来获得幸福。它并不满足于避免不愉快的经历——这一目标源于精疲力尽的屈从；事实上，它绕开了这一消极目标，一如既往、激情四溢地去追求积极的幸福目标。或许这一方法比起其他任何方法更加接近目标。当然，我正在谈论的生活方式就是：将爱看做一切事物的中心，并期待从爱与被爱中获得一切满足。这种精神态度是我们自然而然就具备的；爱的一种表现形式——性爱，让我们强烈地体验到一种压倒一切的快感，因此树立了一种寻找幸福的模式。我们应该沿着首次遭遇幸福的道路继续寻找幸福，还有什么比这更自然呢？但这种生活方式的缺点亦显而易见，如果不是这样，也没有人会放弃这种寻找幸福的途径，转而投向其他途径。当我们沉溺于爱的时候，我们对痛苦的防备从未如此薄弱；当失去爱的对象或其对我们的爱时，我们会感到从未有过的凄凉孤独。关于这一特别的生活方式，关于将爱作为获得幸福的一种方式的价值，这儿并不是最后的断言：关于这一点，我还有很多话要说。

在这里我们可以探讨这样一个有趣的例子：生活中的幸福主要是在对美的享受中获得的，不论相对于我们的感官和判断，美以何种形式呈现出来——无论是人体形态和姿态的美，自然物体和风景的美，艺术甚至是科学创造的美。这种生活目标的美学态度并不能在苦难威胁我们的时候提供多大保护，但是它能补偿很多东西。美的享受有一种让人微醉的独特作用。美并没有什么很明显的用途，人们也不易看出美对于人类文明为什么不可或缺，然而，缺乏美的文明是不可想象的。美学探讨的是在什么情况下美会被理解，但美学还无法弄明白美的本质和根源；通常情况是，缺乏主论时，就会用空泛、冗长的辞藻来掩饰。遗憾的是，精神分析学也几乎没有谈论到美。唯一可以肯定的是，美源自性感觉领域；对美的热爱，可以理想地解释为那种目标抑制的冲动。“美”和“吸引”最初都是性对象的特质。值得注意的是，虽然看到生殖器会让人兴奋，但人们并不认为生殖器本身是美的；相反，美的性质似乎与性的某些次要特征相关。

尽管我的论述尚不完整，尚处于开始阶段，但我想斗胆做出如下论述，来结束目前探讨的问题。我们那由快乐原则主宰的追寻幸福的使命并不能完全实现，但我们不能、事实上也不可以放弃努力，去更加接近幸福。为了达到这个目的，我们也许会踏上不同的道路，并在积极地寻求快乐与消极地避免不幸这两大目标中优先选择一个。但不论我们选择了哪条道路，都不可能完全获得所渴望的一切。幸福（较弱意义上的幸福还是可能实现的）就是关于个人力比多分配的问题。没有哪条建议适用于所有人，每个人都得自己去探索属于自己的救赎之道。其间，各种不同因素都发挥着作用，影响着个人的选择，问题在于他能从外部世界中得到多少真正的满足，在于他能在多大程度上独立于外部世界，最后，在于他感到自己有多大的力量来按照自己的意愿改造世界。除外部世界外，这里起决定性作用还包括个人的心理特性。性欲强烈的人会尤其看重与他人的情感关系；自恋的人，相对而言则更加自足，更倾向于在自我精神进程中寻找极其重要的满足；行动派不会放弃与外部世界的接触，因为他能以此衡量自己的力量。对于第二种人来说，他的天赋以及他的本能所能升华的程度决定着他的兴趣所在。任何极端的选择都将受到惩罚，因为如果一个人选择了一种生活方式，排除其他一切生活方式，那么他将会处于危险的境地中。就像审慎的商人不会把所有资本投在一项事业中一样，处世哲学也许会告诫我们不要指望某一种尝试就能让我们获得所有满足。成功从来都是不可预测的，它取决于很多因素的机缘巧合，或许仅仅取决于心理素质的适应环境，以及利用环境创造快乐的能力。如果一个人的本能素质天生就不好，又没有真正经历过对他日后成功必不可少的力比多成分的改变和重组过程，他会感到很难从外部世界中获得幸福，尤其在面对极其困难的任务时。最后一种生活方式是（但这至少能保证让他获得一些替代性的满足），他可以逃入精神病的状态以寻求解脱；这种情况通常会在一个人年轻时发生。如果一个人晚年追求幸福受挫时，他仍可以长期依赖麻醉物所产生的快乐找到慰藉，或者，进行绝望的抗争，最后精神变态。[4]

这种选择和适应的过程遭到了宗教的干涉，宗教将其获得幸福、避免苦难的方式不加区别地强加到每一个人身上。宗教的方法就是贬低生命的价值，通过妄想扭曲真实世界面貌，即假定存在着令人畏惧的上帝，强制人们处于心理上的幼稚状态，并诱使人们进入集体妄想的状态，以此为代价，宗教的回报是，它成功地让人免于患上精神病。但除此之外，宗教再也没什么别的作用了。正如我们已经提到过的，在人类的能力范围内还有很多通往幸福的途径，但是没有哪一条能保证一定成功。就连宗教也不能做出这样的保证。如果信徒们最终不得不谈论上帝的“深不可测的旨意”，他等于就是在承认，要想在苦难中最终获得安慰和快乐，他别无选择，只能无条件地服从。如果他准备接受这一点，他或许可以避免所走过的这条弯路。

————————————————————

[1] 在《虔诚的海伦》一书中，威廉·布施在一个较低的层次上同样谈论到这一问题：“忧愁的人有白兰地相伴。”

[2] 歌德提醒世人说：“世上一切皆可忍受，唯有长期的艳阳天。”然而或许这只是一种夸张的说法。

[3] 伏尔泰曾明智地提出：一个人除非具有特殊的气质为他指引生活中的兴趣所在，否则他所承担的普通工作就可以发挥这一作用。限于篇幅我无法充分说明工作在力比多的分配中所扮演的重要角色。没有什么其他生活方式比强调工作的重要性更能将个体和现实世界紧密相连了，个体的工作至少在现实世界和人类社会的一隅为他提供了稳妥的一席之地。使得大量自恋的、具有攻击性的甚至情色的力比多成分可以转移到专业工作和与之相关的人际关系上，与工作在维护和辩解个人存在对社会所发挥的作用相比，这一作用的价值并不逊色。如果我们可以自由选择职业活动，也就是说，如果通过升华，可以将现有的爱好、天生不断增强的本能冲动运用到工作中，就会在职业活动中获得特殊的满足。然而，人们很少会把工作视为通向幸福的途径，他们不像努力追求其他满足欲望的可能性途径那样去努力工作。大部分人工作只是不得已而已；人们对工作的厌恶成了最棘手的社会问题的根源。

[4] 我感到我有必要指出前面论述中至少存在一个漏洞。对人类幸福的种种可能性考虑不应该不考虑自恋与对象力比多的关系。我们需要知道一个人基本上独立自主对于有效利用力比多意义重大。

3

到目前为止，我们对幸福的研究仍没有提出多少新颖的内容。即使我们继续追问，为什么人获得幸福那么困难，获得开创性见解的可能性仍然并不乐观。关于这个问题我们已经做出回答，并指出了痛苦的三个来源：自然力量的强大优势，我们肉体的脆弱，用来调节家庭、国家、社会的人际关系制度的不足。关于前两个来源，我们不必犹豫、很快就能做出判断：我们不得不承认这两种痛苦来源的存在，并且服从，因为它们是不可避免的。我们无法永远掌控自然；我们的肉体仅是自然的一部分，并将永远是一个短暂的构造物，其适应能力和取得成功的能力有限。认识到这一点，并不会让我们悲观绝望，相反它指引了我们活动的方向。即使我们不能够消除所有痛苦，至少我们可以消除或减轻其中的一部分，几千年的经验已经证实了这一点。我们对第三个痛苦的根源——社会来源，态度则截然不同。我们拒绝承认它，我们不明白为什么自己建立的制度却不能保护、造福我们所有人。然而，想想我们在避免来源于社会的痛苦这一方面一直并不那么成功，我们难免怀疑这儿是否也存在着不可征服的本性因素——这次是我们的精神自我。

当开始思考是否存在这种可能性时，我们遇到了一个令人震惊的观点，对此我们必须花点时间仔细研究。这种观点认为，我们称之为文明的东西是我们不幸的主要根源；如果我们放弃文明，退回到原始状态，就会更加幸福。我说这种观点令人震惊，是因为无论我们如何定义文明的概念，我们试图所用的一切保护自己、免受痛苦威胁的方法都确确实实是在此种文明的范畴中的。

如此众多的人对文明充满敌意，他们何时开始持有这种奇怪的态度呢？我相信，长期以来，人们对文明深深不满，而特定历史事件使得不满的土壤里滋生出对文明的强烈谴责。我才疏学浅，尚不能沿着人类历史一直追溯下去，找出整个历史起因链。但我想我可以找出最近的两个历史起因。这种对文明的敌意，一定早在基督教战胜异教时就已经存在了。这种敌意终究与基督教义贬低尘世生命有着密切联系。前一历史起因在于，航海发现让我们接触到了原始民族和种族。由于观察不充分，加上对其礼仪风俗的错误认识，欧洲人感到他们过着简朴幸福的生活，几乎没有什么需求，认为这种生活是他们这些拥有优越文明的到访者们无法获得的。后来的经验证明了其中一些论断是错误的。这些原始民族生活比较安逸，被错误地认为是因为他们没有复杂的文化需要，而事实是，由于大自然的恩赐，这些人的主要需求能够轻而易举地得到满足。后一历史起因我们尤其熟悉。这一起因发生在人们认识到精神病的机制之后。文明人享有的幸福本来就少得可怜，而这点幸福还要受到精神病的威胁。人们发现，社会为了其文化理想，迫使人们备尝艰辛，当人们无法忍受时，便变成精神病。由此可以推论，消除或者减少这些文化理想的要求，幸福的可能性即有可能恢复。

此外还有一个对文明失望的因素。过去几代人中，人类在自然科学及其技术应用方面取得了显著进步，其控制自然的程度，前人几乎难以想象。这些科技进步的细节，众所皆知，此处不用赘言。人们为这些成果感到自豪，确实也应该感到自豪。然而，人们发现，几千年来的渴望的实现——新近获得的对时空的控制、对自然的征服，并没有增加他们想从生活中得到的快乐，并没有让他们感到更加幸福。根据这一事实，我们不能由此断言技术在我们的幸福体系中毫无价值；而应该推断出的结论是，正如控制自然不是文化事业所要达到的唯一目标，技术也不是人类幸福的唯一前提条件。人们也许要反问：如果我能够随时听到住在几百英里以外我的孩子的声音，如果我的朋友经过艰辛的海上长途航行最终登岸，并在最短的时间内向我通报他的情况，难道我没有真正获得快乐吗？我的幸福感没有增加吗？医学的成就大幅度地降低了婴儿死亡率和妇女生产时受感染的可能性，而且还延长了文明人的平均寿命，难道说这些都毫无意义吗？我们还可以举出许多发生在这个受到鄙薄时代中科技进步所产生裨益的例子。与此同时，悲观主义的批判声也响起，提醒我们上述大部分的满足属于某类笑话所推崇的“廉价快乐”的模式。例如，在寒冷的冬夜，把大腿裸露在被子外面然后再抽进来而得到的那种享受。如果没有铁路征服了距离，我的孩子就永远不会离开家乡，我也就无须打电话听他的声音；如果不能坐船航行，我的朋友就不会踏上海上征途，那么我也就不需要电报来减少我对他的担忧。如果婴儿死亡率下降迫使我们采取极端的节育措施，虽然卫生保健变得普遍流行，但结果我们并没有生养更多孩子，我们婚姻中的性生活受到节制，甚至与自然选择规律相悖，如此看来降低婴儿死亡率又有何用？最后，如果生活充满艰辛、困苦、缺少乐趣，死就是一种解脱，我们拍手欢迎还来不及，长寿对我们又有何益呢？

在当今文明中，我们似乎确实并不感到舒适，但是，我们很难知道早期人类是否幸福，他们幸福的程度，以及他们的文化条件在幸福问题上发挥的作用。我们总想要客观地考虑人们的疾苦，也就是说，把我们自身，连同我们自己的需要和感受，置于他们的情形中，然后再决定我们会从中发现他们幸福或不幸的原因。这种探索事物的方法似乎很客观，因为它不考虑主观感觉的差异。但它却也是最主观的方法，因为我们对他人的精神状态一无所知，只是把自身的精神状态加到他们身上。但是，幸福确实完全是一种主观状态。不论我们对某些情况多么望而生畏，例如，古代的苦工、17世纪欧洲三十年战争时期的农民、宗教法庭的牺牲者、将被屠杀的犹太人，我们根本不可能与他们感同身受，不可能去猜测人们对快乐和不快乐感觉的接受能力究竟发生了什么变化——从最初的感觉迟钝，敏感性的逐渐减少，希望的丧失，到更加原始或者更加高级的麻醉方法。在极端痛苦的情形下，人们会启动一些特殊的精神保护机制。我感觉继续探讨问题的这个方面没有多大益处。

现在，我们应该把注意力转到文明的本质上来，因为人们怀疑文明对获得幸福是否具有价值。在通过研究获得某些发现之前，我们不应该指望用一个公式即概括出文明的本质。因此，我们将满足于重复地说：“文明”是指使我们不同于我们的动物祖先生活的所有成就和制度的总和，这些成就和制度服务于两个目的，即保护人类抵御自然与调节人际关系。为了加深对文明的理解，我们将人类社会所出现文明的各种个性特征汇集在一起。在这样做时，我们毫不迟疑地将语言用法或者一些人所称的“语言感觉”作为指导，并且坚信只有这样，我们才能公正地评判内在感知，因为内在感知很难用抽象术语进行表述。

文明的起始阶段很容易辨认。一切使地球为人类效劳、保护人类不受凶猛自然力量的侵害等等的活动和收益都属于文明的范畴。文明这一方面的构成几乎是无可质疑的。如果我们追溯到久远的过去，我们发现最初的文明活动是工具的使用、火的利用和房屋的建造。在这些成就中，对火的利用尤为突出，这是一项非同凡响、前所未有的成就[1]；人类还开创了很多其他成就，并从此一路走下去，其中的动力显而易见。人类利用各种工具改善了他的运动器官或感觉器官，或者说消除了发挥这些器官功能的障碍。引擎能让巨大的力量为人们所用，人们可以像指挥自己的肌肉一样，在任何地方使用引擎；有了船和飞机，无论是水还是天空都不能阻碍人的运动。通过眼镜，人纠正了眼球晶体的缺陷；有了望远镜，人能看到很远的地方；有了显微镜，人克服了视网膜结构造成的视力限制。通过照相机，人创造了可以捕获转瞬即逝的视觉印象的仪器，而留声机则保存了同样转瞬即逝的听觉印象，这两者从本质上说都是人类记忆力的物化。借助电话就可以听到远方的人说话，这即使在童话故事中也被认为是不可能的，文字起源于不在场的人的声音的记录，而房子则是母亲子宫的替代物。子宫是人的第一处居所，人类很大程度上还留恋着它，在那里人感到安全舒适。

人类，借助科学技术，在这个世界上创造了这么多成就！而人最初来到这个世界上只是个孱弱的动物有机体，人类的每一个个体一开始都是无助的婴儿——“噢，大自然中尘埃一般”——人类取得这些成就听上去不仅像童话一般，而且事实上实现了所有——不，大多数——童话般的愿望。所有这些成就人类可以称之为文化成果。很久以前，人类就形成了他的理想观念，即神是无所不能、无所不知的，人类把自己不能实现的或者被禁止的欲望都寄托在众神身上。因此，我们可以说这些神就是文化理想。今天，人类几乎实现了所有这些理想，他本身几乎就变成了神。但无可否认的是，这些理想只是以惯常的方式得到实现，且只是基于人类的常识判断之上，即它们并非完全得到实现，在某些方面根本没有实现，在其他方面则是部分得到实现。可以说人类已经变成神，带着假肢的神。当他带上所有的辅助器官时，他确实让人印象深刻，尽管这些器官尚未成为他身体的一部分，不时地还会带给他不少麻烦。然而，人类有资格用这样的事实安慰自己，即文明的发展不会在1930年就停滞不前。未来的岁月里，文明这个领域将会有崭新的、也许是不可思议的发展，人类将变得更加像上帝。但是，为了有助于研究，我们不要忘记现代人对于他上帝般的特性并没有感到幸福。

既而我们承认，如果一个国家中有助于人类利用土地或者抵御自然力量的一切事物——总之，对人类有用的一切事物——都受到了关注并且井然有序，那么这个国家的文明确实达到了很高的水平。在这些国家中，可能淹没土地的河流得到治理，河水被引到干旱的地区；土壤经过精耕细作种上了适宜的植物；地下矿产资源经过艰辛的劳动开采出来，制成所必需的工具；交通工具方便、快捷、可靠；危险的野生动物因被捕杀而灭绝，家畜饲养繁荣发展。但除此之外，我们对文明还有很多别的要求，尤其是，我们希望这些要求在上述这类国家中得到满足。当人们把注意力转向没有任何实用价值的东西——或者任何看似没用的东西，例如在用作消遣和玩耍、储蓄新鲜空气的城市公园的场地摆上花坛，或者用花盆装饰住宅的窗户，我们也非常赞同，把这也视为文明的象征，就好像我们要否定对文明提出的最初要求似的。我们很快认识到，我们希望文明所重视的这种无用的东西就是美；我们要求文明人热爱自然中所遇到的美，并且如果有能力，用双手创造美。然而，我们对文明的要求远没有穷尽，除了美之外，我们还要看到清洁和秩序。当我们读到位于斯特拉特福德的莎士比亚父亲家门前有很大一个粪堆的描述时，就会认为莎士比亚时期英国乡镇的文明水平还比较低。当我们看到维也纳郊区林间小路上乱扔的废纸时，便义愤填膺地称之为“野蛮”——文明的对立。我们觉得一切污秽都与文明相悖，我们也把清洁的要求扩展到人身上。当听到太阳王路易十四身上有股难闻的气味时，我们不禁感到吃惊。在贝拉岛（又叫美丽岛）上，当看到拿破仑早晨漱洗用的小脸盆时，我们不禁摇头。事实上，即使有人把使用肥皂视为文明的一个标准，我们也不会感到吃惊。秩序同样如此，它和清洁一样与人类行为密切相关。但在自然中我们找不到清洁的模式。相反，秩序是从自然界模仿来的。人类所观察到的天体的匀称与整齐，不仅给人类提供了将秩序引进生活中的样式，而且还提供了如何保持秩序的线索。秩序是一种强迫性的重复，一个模式一旦确定下来，秩序就决定了一件事何时、何地以及如何去做，这样一来，再遇到相同的情况，人们就不必犹豫不决了。秩序的好处无可争议。它使人们能够充分利用时间和空间，同时还节省脑力。人们或许有理由指望秩序一开始就不费吹灰之力地在人类活动中得到确立，但可能会惊讶于事实并非如此——恰恰相反，人类天性草率、无序、靠不住，因此必须通过艰苦的训练，才能学会模仿天体模式。

显然，美、清洁和秩序在我们对文明的要求中占有特殊的地位。谁都不会认为它们与我们对自然力的控制和我们即将认识到的其他因素在生活中同等重要。但是，也没有人会认为它们微不足道。文明并不仅仅关注功用，这一点已经在人们热爱美，并坚持把美包括进文明的关注这一例子中得到证实。秩序的用处显而易见。至于清洁，我们必须记住它也是卫生学对我们的要求。我们可以推断，甚至在有科学预防法之前，人类也并未完全忽视卫生和清洁之间的关系。然而，功用性并不能完全解释人们对清洁的追求；除此之外，一定还涉及其他的因素。

然而，没有什么比高层次精神活动（包括智力、科学和艺术等方面的成就）的欣赏和培养，比思想在人类生活中所赋予的主导作用更能体现文明的特征。这些思想中首推宗教体系，关于其复杂性，我在别处已经论及；其次是哲学思考；最后是所谓的人类理想，即人类所形成的关于个人、国家和整个人类所能达到的完美境界的主张，以及基于这些理想所提出的要求。事实上，这些精神活动产生的思想和成就并不是孤立的，而是密切相连的，这不仅增加了描述它们的困难，而且还使追溯它们的心理起源变得复杂。如果我们假定，通常人类一切活动的动力都是源于追求功用和快乐这两个相互融合的目标，我们必须承认我们在这里谈论的一切文明体现皆是如此，尽管这在科学和艺术活动中显而易见。但是，毫无疑问其他活动也满足了人类的强烈需要，虽然也许只是满足少部分人的需要。同时，我们也不要被这样或那样的宗教、哲学体系或者理想等价值判断引入歧途。无论我们通过思考，在这些宗教、哲学或理想中找到人类精神的最高成就，抑或是将其认定为歪理邪说并深表遗憾，我们都不得不承认，它们的存在及所占据的地位都是高度文明的象征。

作为文明最后但也极为重要的一个特性，我们要考虑如何调节人与人之间的关系，即影响人们扮演邻居、员工、性对象、家庭成员以及国家公民等角色的各种社会关系。这里，要避开文明特定理想要求的影响，抓住一般意义上的文明属性尤其困难。也许，当人类首次尝试调节这些社会关系时，我们就可以宣布文明的因素已经出现。因为如果没有这样的尝试，人们就不得不屈服于个人意志的支配。也就是说，体格比较强壮的人将根据他自己的利益和本能冲动来独断专行。如果这个体格较强壮的人遇到了比他还强的人，后者同样也会这样做。只有当大部分人聚集到一起时，才会比任何个体强大得多，才能形成针对个人的统一阵线。只有在这时，集体社会生活才成为可能。集体的力量冠以“正义”的名义，与被谴责为“蛮力”的个人力量相抗衡。个体的力量被集体的力量所取代是人类向文明迈进的决定性一步。其本质在于：作为社会集体的成员会在一定范围内节制自己的欲望，而作为个人则毫无节制。因此，接下来对文明的要求便是公正，也就是，法律秩序一旦制定，就不能徇私枉法，偏向某一个人。这一点并不要求对法律体系的道德伦理做出价值判断。文明的进一步发展似乎旨在达到法律不再是少数人意志表达的一种境界——即不是某一种姓、某一社会阶层或者某一部族的意志表达，因为这些小团体相对于其他更广泛的团体而言，就像是暴戾的个人。最终结果应该是，所有人或至少是合格的社会集体成员，通过放弃部分本能的满足，建立起一个法律体系，使得这些合格的社会成员不会沦为个人蛮力的牺牲品。

个体自由并不是文明的恩赐。在文明产生以前，自由的程度最大，尽管那时自由也并没有多少实际意义，因为个体几乎不能捍卫他的自由。文明的发展限制了自由，法律公正要求每个人都必须受到限制，无一例外。人类集体中所表现出的任何对自由的渴望都可能演变为对现存不公正的反抗，因而有助于文明的进一步发展，与文明并不排斥。但是，这种对自由的渴望也可能产生于人类原始性格的遗留部分，这种遗留部分尚未被文明驯服，因此会成为敌视文明的基础。因此，对自由的渴望会转而反对文明的某种特定形式和要求，或者彻底反对文明。似乎任何影响都不能够诱使个人将其本性改变成白蚁一般的本性。人们或许永远要反对集体意志，维护个体自由的权利。人类的斗争大部分围绕着一个任务，即寻找个人要求与文明集体要求之间合适的、或者两全其美的融合。涉及人类命运的一个问题是，这种融合是否可以通过某一特定的文明模式达到，或者冲突是否根本就是无法调和的。

人类的共同感觉告诉了我们什么可以称之为文明，我们因此对文明有了一个清晰印象，勾勒出了文明的整体轮廓，尽管我们尚未学到任何不为人所熟知的东西。与此同时，我们应尽量避免限于偏见，认为文明就是走向完善，就是人类通往至善至美的必经之路。但我们现在提出的这个观点，可能会把我们引向别处。文明的进程，在我们看来似乎是人类经历的一个独特过程，其中某些内容为我们所熟知。根据其所引起的人的本能的众所皆知的性情的变化，我们即可对文明特性进行描述，对于本能的满足实际上是我们有效利用生命的任务。这些本能中的一些成分被消耗掉了，取而代之的是针对个体而言的性格特征。这一过程的最奇怪的例子要算是幼儿的肛门欲。在幼儿的成长过程中，他们对肛门的排泄作用、排泄器官和排泄物的最初兴趣转变为一组特征，即我们所熟悉的吝啬、秩序感和清洁感。虽然这些特性本身大有益处、备受推崇，但可能被强化，直至占据绝对主导地位，形成所谓的肛门性格。这种情况是如何发生的，我们不得而知，但是，这种观点无疑是正确的。我们已经看到秩序和清洁是文明的基本要求，尽管它们是否至关重要，是否是快乐的源泉，并不非常明显。从这点上说，我们不禁想到文明过程与个体力比多发展过程的相似性。肛门欲外的其他本能，则被诱使改变其获得满足的条件，转而寻找其他的途径。大多情形下，这个过程与我们所熟知的升华过程（本能目的的升华）是相一致的。但在某些情况下，也可能不一致。本能的升华是文化发展最显著的特征；由于它的存在，科学、艺术、思想意识等较高层次的心理活动才在文明生活中发挥着至关重要的作用。乍看起来，人们会倾向认为文明将升华作用强加于本能身上。但对这一问题进一步思考，可能会有更好的认识。第三个因素似乎最重要，即文明在多大程度上要通过消除本能才能得到确立；多大程度上要利用克制、压抑或其他手段使得强烈的本能得不到满足为前提条件，这一点不容忽视。这种“文化挫折”支配着人类广泛的社会关系领域。我们早已知道，这种挫折造成对文明的敌意，一切文明都须与这一敌意抗争。它也对我们的精神分析科学提出了严肃的要求，分析科学对此尚需做出很多解释。如何才能剥夺对本能的满足，要想解决这一问题并非易事。剥夺本能的满足，而不冒任何风险是不可能的。若没有有效补偿，严重的混乱肯定会接踵而来。

但是，关于文明发展这一特殊过程与个体的正常成熟过程具有可比性这一观点，如果想要知道它具有什么意义，显然还须解决另一问题，我们必须追问文明发展究竟源于什么样的影响，它究竟是如何开始的，其进程中又有什么决定因素。

————————————————————

[1] 精神分析的材料，尽管不全面，不能对此做出肯定的解释，但关于人类这一伟大成就的起源至少可以做一个异想天开的猜测。仿佛是这样，原始人在接触到火时，他好像有一种用尿灭火以满足婴儿欲望的习惯。原始人把向上喷出的火舌视为男性生殖器的象征，现有传说毫无疑问地体现出这一点。排尿灭火——这个行为仍被后来的巨人如小人国中的格列佛、拉伯雷笔下的高康大所重复——因此是一种男性性行为，是同性恋竞争中对男性性能力的享受。第一个放弃这种享受将火留下的人，将它随身带走，使它为己所用。通过灭掉自己性兴奋的欲火，他制服了自然力量之火。因此，这个伟大的文化征服是对他放弃满足本能欲望的奖赏。而且，似乎是男人指派女人看护好被俘虏在炉膛中的火，因为女人的身体构造使她不可能屈服于这种灭火欲望的诱惑。而且值得注意的是，心理分析的经验时常证明了野心、火和尿道性冲动之间的关系。

4

这一任务十分艰巨，人们感到望而却步是自然的。下面是我曾做过的一些猜测。

一个原始人在发现通过劳动就能改善他在地球上的命运后，主动权实际上掌握在他自己手中，其他人与他齐心协力还是作对，对他来说就不再无关紧要了。对他而言，这个其他人也就具有了作为一个共同劳动伙伴的价值，如果他们生活在一起，将会大有裨益。甚至早在类人猿的史前时期，人类就有了组织家庭的习惯，家庭成员大概就是他最初的帮手。或许家庭的建立是基于以下事实，即生殖满足的需要不再像一个客人，某一天突然出现，然后离去，以后就再无音信，而是像一个长期的房客住了下来。从此以后，男性就有了一种把女性——说得更概括一些——把他的性对象留在身边的动机；而女性则不愿离开她弱小的孩子，为了孩子和强壮的男性继续生活在一起。[1]这样的家庭，仍然缺乏文明的一项习俗形成了最初的“法律”体系。因此，两种原因导致人类选择群居生活：一是艰难的外部环境迫使人们共同参与劳动；二是爱的力量，爱一方面使得男人不愿意放弃自己的性对象，另一方面使得女人不愿意被夺去自己的亲骨肉——孩子。厄洛斯爱神和定数女神阿南刻（爱和必要性）也就成为人类文明的始祖。文明的第一个结果是，数目相当可观的一部分人能够共同生活在一个集体中。由于这两个巨大的力量在集体中共同发挥作用，人们因此可以期望文明进一步得到发展，顺利地朝着更好地支配外部世界，吸收更多人群加入这个集体的方向前进。然而，这样的文明为什么绝对不会是文明社会成员们的幸福源泉，就很难理解了。

在我们接着探讨对文明的敌意产生于什么地方之前，就上述关于把爱视为文明的基础之一的观点，请允许我们在此说一点题外话，借以弥补我们在前面论述的不足。前面我们探讨过人类发现性（生殖的）爱能给予他最强烈的满足体验，而且实际上是为他提供了所有幸福的典范，而这一发现一定向他表明，他应该在生活中继续沿着性关系的途径去寻找幸福，并且使生殖器的性欲成为其生活的中心。我们接着又讲过，在这一过程中，他使自己以一种最危险的方式依赖于一部分外部世界，即他选择的爱的对象，如果他被所爱的对象拒绝，或是由于不忠或死亡而失去所爱的对象，他就会感受到极度的痛苦。正因为此，每个时代的智者贤人都严厉地警告我们要抵制这种生活方式，尽管如此，这种生活方式仍对大多数人有着巨大的吸引力。

有一小部分人，由于自身的特质，不顾一切地试图通过爱去寻找幸福，尽管爱的作用在精神方面必然要经过修正。这些人把重心从被爱转移到主动去爱，从而使自己独立于所爱对象的意愿；为了避免自己失去所爱的对象，他们不是把自己的爱仅仅给予某一个对象，而是一视同仁地给予每个人；为了避免由性爱带来的不确定和失望，他们背离性的目标，并把这种本能转化成一种目标抑制冲动。这样他们就在内心产生了一种均衡、坚定的爱的情感，这种爱，尽管源自性爱，却与波涛汹涌般的性爱不再有任何外在上的相似之处。也许圣方济亚西西是利用这种爱去追求内在幸福感做得最极致的一个。再有，我们承认的实现人类快乐原则的手段之一往往与宗教有关。这种与宗教的联系也许存在于遥远的感觉领域，那里自我与对象的区别，或是对象与对象的区别被忽略了。有一种伦理观点——其深层动机我们马上就会认识到——认为这种对人类和世界的博爱是人类能够达到的最高境界。尽管刚刚开始讨论这一问题，我还是要提出两点主要异议：首先，在我们看来，不加区分的爱，是对所爱对象的不公正，导致一部分爱的内在价值丧失；其次并非所有的人都值得爱。

作为家庭建立的基础的那种爱，不论是不放弃其直接的性满足的原始形式，还是经过目标抑制修正过的形式，在文明中依然发挥着作用。不管以何种方式，爱继续发挥着将相当多的人聚集在一起的作用，这一作用比共同的劳动利益产生的凝聚效果更为强烈。语言随意地用“爱”这个词是有历史根由的。这个词不仅表示男人与女人之间的关系，男女之间的生殖需要促使他们建立起家庭，家庭中父母与孩子之间、兄弟姐妹之间积极的情感也称之为“爱”，尽管我们须把这种情感描述成“目标抑制的爱”。事实上，目标抑制的爱原本是一种纯粹的肉体上的爱，在人们的潜意识中还是如此。纯粹的肉体之爱和目标抑制的爱二者都可从家庭延伸出去，使原本陌生的人之间产生了一种新的联系。性爱导致了新的家庭的建立；“目标抑制”的爱则产生了“友谊”。友谊对于文明而言非常重要，因为它克服了性爱的某些局限，比如说排他性。但爱与文明的关系，发展下去，变得模糊起来，一方面，爱与文明的利益日益冲突，另一方面，文明以众多的限制威胁着爱。

爱与文明的裂痕似乎是不可避免的。然而人们并不能立刻辨出个中原因。它首先表现为家庭与个人组成的较大集体之间的冲突。我们已经看到，文明的主要使命之一就是把人们聚集在更大的集体之中。但是家庭不愿意放弃它的个人。一个家庭的成员之间的关系越亲密无间，他们往往就越要脱离其他人，也就越难进入一个更广阔的生活圈子。从人类发展史来看，比较古老的共同生活方式，现在只在童年期存在，它拒绝被后来所形成的文明方式取代。因此脱离家庭成为每一个年轻人面临的任务，并且社会常常通过成年仪式和社交入会仪式来帮助他们完成这个任务。这给人的印象是，这些困难是所有的心理发展——事实上是所有的有机体发展——的固有困难。

此外，女人很快站到了文明潮流的对立面，显露出阻碍和抑制文明发展的影响——尽管最初正是女人对爱的要求奠定了文明的基础。女人所代表的是家庭和性生活的利益；而创造文明日益成为男人的工作，给他们布置了更为艰巨的任务，迫使男人不得不实行本能的升华，而女人则没有这样的倾向。由于一个男人没有无限的心理能量可供使用，所以他必须恰当地分配自己的力比多以完成自己的使命。他在文化目标上消耗的精力，很大程度上就不能再用在女人身上了。他与男性的频繁交往，以及对这种交往的依赖，更加让他无法尽一个丈夫和父亲的义务。因此女人会发现，正是由于文明的要求，她们才被置于次要的地位，所以她们就产生了对文明的敌对情绪。

文明对性生活的限制倾向，与它扩大文化阵地的其他倾向一样明显。在文明的起始阶段，即图腾阶段，就有反对性对象选择中乱伦行为的禁律，也许这是从古到今人类性生活所经历的最强烈的打击。禁忌、法律和风俗习惯进一步限制了性自由。这些限制不仅影响到男人，也影响到了女人。但在这一点上，并非所有的文明都采取同样手段与力度；人们享有的性自由程度是要受到社会经济结构的影响的。我们早已知道这一方面的文明需要服从效益需要法则，因为文明消耗的心理能量正是所剥夺的性行为所需要的能量。在这一方面，文明对于性欲的做法就像一个部族或是一个阶层的人一样，在征服另一部族或阶层后便开始剥削他们。由于害怕被压迫方起来反抗，压迫一方就采取了严格的预防措施。在这样的发展过程中，我们西欧的文明已达到了很高的水平。从心理的角度来看，从一开始就禁止各种形式的儿童性生活的做法是站得住脚的。因为如果在儿童时代没有为约束性欲打好基础的话，在成年时期就没有希望来约束性欲了。然而一个文明社会毫无理由去做得更过分，甚至否认这些显而易见和令人震惊的事实。对于性成熟的个人来说，对象的选择只能局限于异性，并且大多数超出生殖器以外的性满足会被认为是变态行为而遭到禁止。一切清规戒律要求所有人去过同样的性生活，而毫不考虑人类在性素质方面所存在的先天或后天的差异；因而剥夺了相当一部分人的性乐趣，这成为严重的不公平的根源。这些约束的结果是，那些自身素质未受限制的正常人，其所有性趣就能通过那些敞开的渠道，完全地排泄出去。但这种视为合法的异性性行为仍然受到法律和一夫一妻制的限制。当今文明清楚地表明，它只承认一男一女在一个不能撤销的唯一契约基础上的性关系；它不赞成性行为成为快乐本身的源泉，只能容忍性行为作为繁衍后代的手段，因为到目前为止，还没有什么手段能代替性行为来繁衍后代。

以上当然是一种极端的观点。大家都知道它根本行不通，即使短期内也行不通。只有弱者才屈服于这样一种对他们性自由的公然侵犯。而强者只有在得到补偿的条件下才会忍受这种侵犯。这些我们在后面还要提到。文明社会自知它不得不对一些根据其法令本该惩罚的犯罪行为睁一只眼闭一只眼。但是我们不应因此犯相反的错误，认为文明既然没有去实施它既定的所有目标，上述关于性的文明的态度就无关紧要了。文明人的性生活还是大大地被削弱了；我们常常会产生这样的印象：性的功能会衰退，就像我们的牙齿和头发作为人体器官会衰老一样。人们有理由认为性作为快乐的源泉、作为实现人生目的的手段已经明显减弱了。有时候，人们似乎发现不仅是文明的压力，而是性功能本身固有的某种东西，使我们不能得到完全的满足，迫使我们选择别的途径追求幸福。这一说法或许是错误的，但很难下定论。[2]

————————————————————

[1] 人类发展中性的生理周期性保存了下来，但生理周期对性兴奋的心理作用却倒退了。这一变化很可能与嗅觉刺激的减弱有关，最初正是通过嗅觉刺激，女性月经周期会在男性身上产生一种心理效果。嗅觉刺激后遭到视觉兴奋的压抑，其作用也被视觉兴奋取代。与间断性的嗅觉刺激不同，视觉兴奋则总是保持有效。月经期的禁忌就是来自这种“有机体性压抑”，这是一种对已被取代的人类发展前一阶段的防御，而所有其他的动机大概都处于次要地位。（参看戴利的著作，《土著神话与阉割情节》13章，1927）当上一文化阶段的神灵变成下一文化阶段的恶魔时，上述过程就在不同程度上重复着。嗅觉刺激的减弱本身似乎是人类直立行走的结果。直立行走使得以前被隐藏起来的人类生殖器暴露出来，因而需要保护，也唤起基本特征：父亲作为家庭首脑，拥有绝对的独裁权力。在《图腾与禁忌》一书中，我曾试图揭示原始人类怎样从家庭发展到下一阶段以兄弟关系为纽带的群居生活。在制服父亲的过程中，儿子们发现联合起来要比一个人的力量大得多。图腾文化就是建立在种种限制之上的，儿子们之间必须互相迫使对方遵守这些限制，才能保持上述的群居生活。遵守禁忌的了人类的羞耻感。因此，可以说文明的这一关键性过程是由于人类有了直立行走的姿式而开始的。从此，事情发展的顺序是：从嗅觉刺激的衰退和月经期间的性禁忌，到视觉刺激的优势和生殖器官的显露，然后就发展到持续的性兴奋，家庭的建立，从此人类就跨入了文明的大门。这只是一个理论上的推测，但它很重要，值得我们在那些与人类关系密切的动物身上去加以验证。

在人类对清洁的文明追求中，同样存在着一个明白无误的社会因素，尽管清洁后来被卫生学证明是正确的，但早在这一点被证实之前，人类就已经追求清洁了。对清洁的迫切要求来自人们清除排泄物的需要，排泄物当时就已经为人们的感官难以容忍。我们知道在保育院里，情形就大不相同了，排泄物并不会引起孩子们的恶心。粪便作为从他们体内排出的身体的一部分，对他们来说似乎颇有价值。这里的教养尤其强调促进儿童发展的下一阶段早日到来，在下一阶段，排泄物粪便就会被认为是无用、恶心、可恶、可憎的。体内排泄物如果不是那么臭气熏天的话，它的价值是不会这样被否定，以致遭到人直立行走后嗅觉刺激被压抑的同样命运。所以，肛门欲首先屈服于走向文明的“有机体性压抑”。对肛门欲的进一步转化负有责任的社会因素的存在，在这样的事实中得到证明：在人类进化过程中，每个人都很少觉得自己的排泄物恶心，他只是觉得别人的粪便恶心。所以说，一个人如果不讲卫生——不把自己的粪便隐藏起来的话，他就会触怒别人；他就没有体谅别人。这一情形在我们最强烈、最常听的咒骂声中体现出来。如果不是由于下述两个特点招致人们的蔑视，人类用他在动物界最忠实的朋友——狗来咒骂就让人费解了：一是，狗最重要的感官就是嗅觉，并且它对排泄物并不反感；二是，狗对性活动并不感到羞耻。

[2] 上面阐述的观点有以下几方面的依据。人也是一种动物，与动物一样，具有明显的两性气质。个体的人相当于两个对称的一半的融合，根据某些研究者的看法，其中一半纯粹是男性的，另一半纯粹是女性的，而每一半原先也同样可能是两性的。性别是一个生物学的事实，在人的精神生活中扮演着极其重要的角色，却很难从心理的角度去把握它。我们习惯说每个人都表现出男性和女性的本能的冲动、需要和特征；尽管解剖学确实区分男性和女性的特征，心理学却不能。对于心理学来说，两性之间的差别消失了，变成了主动性和被动性之间的区别；我们也非常喜欢把男性与主动性，女性与被动性等同起来，然而这一观点在动物界绝没有得到普遍的证实，关于两性共存的理论仍然还有许多晦涩难解的问题，与本能理论尚未联系起来，这在我们看来，不能不算是精神分析的严重缺陷。尽管如此，如果我们假设每个人都试图在其性生活中寻求男性欲望与女性欲望的满足，也不排除这些欲望不能通过同一对象得到满足，且如果两种欲望不分开，不引入到合适的渠道的话，两者会彼此干涉。但另一问题又产生了，就是与性爱关系相联系的除了性本能自身的虐待狂部分以外，常常还有一种明显的攻击性倾向。面对这一复杂性，爱的对象往往不能理解和容忍，而农妇则对此表现出某种程度的理解和忍耐；她会抱怨说她的丈夫不再爱她了，因为他一个星期没打她了。

然而，最深层的推测是前面在注解中所谈及的内容（第四章，46页）。大意是讲，由于人类采用了直立的姿式，并且嗅觉功能减弱，结果不仅他的肛门欲，而且他的整个性欲，都存在着沦为有机体压抑的牺牲品的危险，由于这一原因，一种让人难以理解的反感总是伴随着性功能，这种厌恶感妨碍了性的充分满足，（接上页）迫使其远离性目标，进入力比多的升华和转化境界。我知道布洛勒（“性阻力”，《心理分析与心理病态研究年鉴》第五卷，1913）曾经指出存在着这样一种对性生活的原始反感。一切精神病患者，还有许多其他人，反对“我们是在尿与粪便之间出生的”这一事实。生殖器难闻的气味，许多人无法忍受，他们的性交兴致因而遭到破坏。因此我们可能发现，伴随文明发展的性压抑的最深的根源，是有机体为了保护人直立行走后所形成的新的生活方式而对其早期动物式的生存进行的防御。奇怪的是，这一研究的结果正好与老生常谈的对性的世俗偏见相吻合。然而，研究结果也好，偏见也好，目前还只是一些可能性而已，尚缺乏科学论证。我们不要忘记，尽管嗅觉刺激作用的价值降低不容置疑，但甚至在欧洲，对我们而言是难以忍受的生殖器气味，对另一些人而言却是备受推崇的性刺激物，并拒绝清除它们（参看伊万·布劳克从调查中收集到的一些关于性生活中嗅觉的民间传说，它们发表于弗里德里希·克劳斯的《人类学》各卷中）。

5

精神分析法告诉我们，那些被称为精神病的人所不能忍受的正是这些性生活的挫折。精神病患者在他的症状中为自己创造了一些替代性的满足，然而这些满足不是本身造成他的痛苦，就是成为他痛苦的来源，因为它们使他与周围环境和他所属的社会相处困难。后一现象很容易理解，但前者又给我们提出了一个新的难题。文明除了要求人类牺牲性满足外，还要求人类做出其他方面的牺牲。

我们将文明发展的困难看作是发展的普遍困难所在，将这一困难追溯到力比多的惰性上，归结为力比多拒绝新的角色、不愿放弃旧有的角色。性爱是两个人之间的一种关系，任何第三者只能是多余或者碍事的，但文明所依的却是众人之间的关系；我们由此可以推论出文明与性行为之间的对立，这与文明发展的困难问题是一回事。当恋爱关系发展到高潮时，恋人们对外界就毫无兴趣了，对于一对恋人来说，有他们自己就已足够，甚至不需要共同所生的孩子来促使自己幸福。爱神厄洛斯通过让两个人相恋来进行繁衍后代的行为，但达到这一众所皆知的目的后，就拒绝再有所作为了，爱神存在的核心价值的体现，在这件事上再明显不过了。

到现在为止，我们完全可以想象这样一个文化集体，其成员成双成对，力比多在他们自身中即获得满足，但共同的工作和利益还是将这些成对的人们联系在一起。如果真是这样的话，文明就不必再汲取性行为的能量了。但是这种理想的情形并不存在，也从来没有发生过。现实告诉我们，文明并不满足于人类现有的纽带关系，文明还要寻求通过力比多把集体成员相互连接起来，并且为达到这一目的不惜一切手段，支持一切可以使集体成员建立起强烈认同感的途径，最大程度上唤起目标抑制的力比多以借助友谊关系增强集体的纽带。为了实现这些目标，节制性生活就变得不可避免。然而我们还是无法理解是什么迫使文明走上这样的发展道路，是什么引发了文明对性行为的对抗，其必要性何在。一定存在某种扰乱文明的因素，只是我们尚未发现。

一个我们称之为文明社会的理想要求或许能指引我们做出正确理解。这一要求是：“你须爱邻居如同爱自己”。这一要求举世皆知，并且无疑比基督教还要悠久。基督教把它作为最值得骄傲的主张加以推崇。然而它确实并不古老，在各个历史时期，它对人们来讲仍然陌生。让我们以一种天真的态度来对待这一问题，就像第一次听到这句话一样，这样我们就不禁会产生一种惊奇和困惑的感觉。我们为什么要这样做呢？这样做对我们有什么好处呢？但是首先，我们如何才能做到这一点呢？它怎么可能呢？我的爱对我来说是某种宝贵的东西，我不应当不负责任地将它抛出。这种爱使我承担着某些义务，为了履行这些义务，我必须准备做出牺牲。如果我爱某一个人，他在某些方面就必须值得我去爱（我在这里不考虑他可能对我有什么用，也不考虑他作为性对象对我有什么样的重要性，因为这两种关系对于爱我的邻居这一训诫都没有关系）。如果他在许多重要方面很像我，以至于我在爱他时能够爱我自己，那么他就值得我爱；如果他是一个比我完美得多的人，从而我在爱他的同时可以爱自己的理想，那么他也值得我爱；再者，如果他是朋友的儿子，我也必须去爱他，如果他遇到什么灾难的话，我的朋友所感到的痛苦也就是我的痛苦——我应当去分担这一痛苦。但是，如果他对我来说是一个陌生人，并且如果他自身没有什么优点，或者在我的感情生活中无足轻重，他就不能够吸引我，那么让我去爱他将会很难。事实上，去爱陌生人是错误的，因为我的亲人或朋友珍视我的爱，并将我的爱视为一种我对他们偏爱的表示，如果我把一个陌生人和他们同等对待，这对他们来说是不公平的。但是如果我去爱他（用那种博爱方式）——只是因为他也是地球上的生物，就像昆虫、蚯蚓或草蛇一样，恐怕他只能分享我的爱的一小部分——我的理性判断会把大部分爱留给自己。如果一个训诫实施起来并不能让人感觉合理，这样的训诫又有何用呢？

再进一步观察，我发现了更多的困难。这样一个陌生人不仅不值得我爱，而且老实地讲，他更多是引起我的敌意，甚至憎恨。他似乎对我也没有一丝爱的意思，且没有对我表现出丝毫的关心与体谅。如果对他有利，他会毫不犹豫地伤害我，他也绝不会自问因此所得的利益是否和我遭受的伤害相当。实际上，他甚至不需要去获得什么利益，只要可以满足他的某种欲望，他就会毫无顾忌地嘲笑我、侮辱我、诽谤我，让我成为他的配角以显出他的优势。他越感到安全，我就越感到无助，也越肯定他会以这样的方式对待我。如果他的表现完全不同，对我这个陌生人，他表示出关心，表现出自我克制，那么任何情形下我也愿意以同样的方式对待他，而不需任何训诫的指示。的确，如果这条庄严的训诫这样说的话：“爱你的邻居就像他爱你一样”，那么我就毫无异议了。还有第二条训诫，它似乎更让我无法理解，并且引起我内心更强烈的反感。这就是：“爱你的敌人”。然而，经过仔细考虑之后，我觉得把它视为一个更加过分的要求是错误的；说到底，它与第一条训诫是一回事。[1]

我似乎听到一个威严高贵的声音告诫着我：“恰恰是由于你的邻居不值得你爱，甚至是你的敌人，你才必须要爱他像爱你自己一样。”于是我明白了这条训诫不过是又一个“因为荒谬故我信”的例子而已。

现在，当我的邻居被告诫说要爱我像爱他自己一样时，他完全可能做出和我一样的反应，并且因为同样的原因而拒绝爱我。我希望他不会给出和我完全一样的客观理由，但他却有和我同样的想法。尽管如此，人类行为还是存在着差异，伦理学不顾这些差异的条件制约，将其划分为“善”和“恶”两类。只要这些不可否认的差异依然存在，去践行高级伦理要求的内容对文明的目标就会造成损害，因为这会提倡恶有善报。在这一点上，人们不禁会想起法国国民议会厅曾经的一幕，人们在争论着是否废除死刑。一个议员强烈地要求废除死刑，他的演讲得到持久的雷鸣般的掌声，直至大厅中传来一个声音：“让杀人犯先迈出第一步不去杀人吧！”

隐藏在这一切背后的，也是人们不愿意承认的真相是：人类不是需要爱的温和生物，顶多是受到攻击后会采取防卫措施而已；相反，人类在其本能的禀性中蕴藏着强大的攻击性。因此，他们的邻居不仅仅是潜在的助手或性对象，而且是诱发他们对其发动攻击的对象，他们会毫无补偿地剥削他的劳动力，未经他的许可便强行与他发生性关系，霸占他的财产，羞辱他，折磨他，让他痛苦，并且杀死他。“人与人之间如同狼与狼一样”。面对历史上和生活中的经验，谁还有勇气对这个结论提出质疑呢？一般来说，这种残酷的攻击性或者等待着某种挑衅，或者服务于某种通过比较温和的手段即能达到的目标。当条件适宜，平时控制着人类精神上的制衡力量失去效力时，他们的攻击性即自发显现，暴露出兽性，连同类也不能免于受害。但凡想想种族大迁徙的恐怖情形，想想匈奴人或者又称之为成吉思汗和帖木儿统治下的蒙古人的侵略，想想虔诚的十字军占领耶鲁撒冷的时候，抑或是第一次世界大战的恐怖情形，人们都将不得不承认这一事实。

我们在自己身上觉察到了这种攻击性倾向，也有理由假定别人身上也具有这样的倾向，这种倾向破坏了我们与邻居的关系，也迫使文明之路更为迂回曲折。由于人类互相充满原始的敌意，文明社会永远存在着崩溃的危险。劳动中的共同利益尚不足以将人类团结在一起，因为源自本能的感情远比理智的利益强大得多。文明必须尽其最大的努力来限制人类的攻击性本能，并且运用心理反应形成机制来控制它们的显现。从此就有了一些方法的运用，旨在促进人们情感上彼此认同、进入目标抑制的性关系中，就有了对性生活的限制，就有了爱邻居如同爱自己的理想训诫，这一训诫的合理性在于：没有什么比它更能与人的攻击性本性相抗衡了。尽管做了种种尝试，文明的这些努力目前仍收效甚微。文明希望通过使用暴力打击罪犯的权利，来防止最赤裸裸的野蛮暴行，但是法律对于人类攻击性表现的微妙形式却无能为力。如今我们每个人须丢弃年轻时寄托在他人身上的期望，这种期望只能是幻想；须学会认识到他人的恶意让我们的生活变得如此艰难和痛苦。同时，指责文明试图从人类活动中消除争斗和竞争也是不公平的。争斗与竞争自然必不可少。但是对立并不必然就是敌对，对立只是完全被误用成敌对的一种情形而已。

共产主义者认为他们已经找到了将人类从罪恶中解脱出来的途径。根据他们的观点，人无疑本来是好的，对邻居也友善，但私有制度腐化了其天性。私有财产的拥有权赋予个人以权力并诱使他运用这种权力去虐待他的邻人；而那些被剥夺财产的人就必定会对压迫者充满敌意，必定会反抗其压迫。如果废除了私有制，实行财产公有，即人人享有财产，那么恶意和敌对就会在人类中消失。由于每个人的需要都将得到满足，任何人都没有理由把另一个人当做他的敌人；所有人都将乐意承担起任何必要的工作。我并不关心对共产主义制度在经济体制方面的批评，私有财产的废除究竟是否合适、有益，我也无从得知。[2]但我能确认的是，这种废除私有财产做法背后的心理根据毫无依据，只是幻想而已。废除私有财产后，人类攻击的喜好仅仅是被剥夺了其众多手段中的一个，虽然无疑这是一个强大的手段，但绝不是最强的手段。人在权力和影响上的差异、攻击性的本性都没有任何改变，攻击性为达到目的利用的正是这种权力和影响上的差异。攻击性并不是由财产造成的；财产匮乏的原始社会弥漫的几乎是毫无节制的攻击性。在幼儿期，人的攻击性即显露出来了，那时所谓的财产尚未脱离原始的肛门期形式，它构成了人们之间各种感情和爱的关系的基础（也许只有一个例外，就是母亲和儿子的关系）。即使我们废除了物质财富的私人所有权，性关系领域的特权仍然存在，人或许在其他方面完全平等，但这一特权必定引起人们极度的不满和强烈的憎恨。如果我们也消除这一特权，允许性生活完全自由，并且进而废除家庭这一文明的胚胎细胞，我们诚然无法预知文明进程可能会走上怎样的新道路；但有一点我们可以确定：无论文明之路通向何方，人类本性中的攻击性坚不可摧，将会与文明如影随形。

显而易见，让人们放弃攻击性倾向并非易事。没有这一需求的满足，他们就会感到不适。人们不应轻视相当小的一个文化圈子所享有的优越性，这一优越性以一种对圈外人的敌意形式给攻击性本能提供了一种发泄渠道。人类总是可以通过爱将相当一部分人团结在一起，只要圈外人成为其攻击对象。我曾经讨论过这样一种现象，即恰恰是疆土毗连，并且本应关系密切的群体，常常沉溺于相互斗争、相互讥笑嘲弄中——比如西班牙人和萄萄牙人，北部德国人和南部德国人，英格兰人和苏格兰人等等。我将这种现象称之为“细微差异上的自恋”，这一名称当然并不足以解释这一现象。但它可以视为某一群体满足攻击性倾向、增强集体凝聚力的一个便利而又无伤大雅的方法。犹太人的四处迁徙对其定居下来的东道国的文化做出了宝贵的贡献；然而不幸的是，中世纪对犹太人的大屠杀并未使基督教徒们因此感到那个时代更加安全、和平。在圣·保罗将博爱奠定为基督徒社团的基础之后，其不可避免的后果是，基督徒对那些处于这一集体之外的人们极度地不能容忍。对罗马人而言，其帝国并不是建立在爱的基础之上，因此，宗教的不相容对他们来说是陌生的，尽管宗教是他们所关切的事，并且弥漫着整个国家。日耳曼人主宰世界的梦想要以反犹太主义来做补充也不是不可能理解的偶然现象。在俄国建立一个共产主义的新文明的努力竟然会以迫害资产阶级作为心理支柱也就变得可以理解了。只是人们未免有点担忧地感到疑惑：布尔什维克在彻底清除了他们的资产阶级后又将做什么呢？

如果文明把如此大的牺牲不仅强加于人类的性行为，而且还强加于人类的攻击性行为的话，我们就能更好地理解为什么在这样一种文明里人们极难使自己感到幸福了。其实原始人由于不被限制其本能，境况反而更好一些。然而原始人无法确定能享受这样的好运多久，这一点让我们稍感平衡。文明人则是用他可能获得的一部分幸福换取了一部分安全。然而，我们还应考虑到，在原始家庭中，只有它的首领才能充分享受这种本能的自由；其他人则生活在奴隶般的压迫之中。所以在文明的原始时期，享受文明的好处的少数人和被剥夺了这些好处的多数人之间，形成了极其鲜明的对比。至于今天仍存在的原始民族，更仔细的调查已表明：我们毫无理由因其享受的自由而妒忌他们的本能生活。他们要受到一种不同类型的约束，这种约束或许比强加在文明人身上的约束更为严苛。

当我们理直气壮地挑剔文明的现状，指责它没有充分理睬我们对幸福生活形式的要求，指责它容许如此多的或许完全可以避免的苦难存在时；当我们毫不吝惜批评，试图发掘出它不完美的根源时——我们是在行使自己的正当权利，并不是在表明我们就是文明的敌人。我们或许希望在文明中逐渐施行一些改变，使其更好地满足我们的要求，免于以上批评。但我们或许也应该熟悉这样的观点，即有些难题存在于文明的本性之中，无论何种改革都无法克服。我们除了面临限制本能的任务（这一任务我们已经做好准备）外，还面临着一个危险的境况，这一境况我们称之为“集体心理痛苦”。当一个社会的纽带主要依靠成员之间的认同感，而发挥领导才干的个人，在集体形成中却又未能获得应有的名望时，这一危险就最具威胁性。美国文明的现状给我们提供了一个绝好的机会，来研究人们应该惧怕的文化伤害。但是我将避免对美国文明进行批判；我不想给人留下这样的印象，即我自身也在使用美国式批判方法。

————————————————————

[1] 一位富有想象力的伟大作家，至少可以用开玩笑的方式说出那些会遭到谴责的真心话。例如，海涅承认，“我的性情最为平和。我的愿望是：有一间茅草陋舍，但有舒适的床、精美的食品、最新鲜的牛奶和奶油，窗前有花坛，门前有绿树，并且如果仁慈的上帝想让我完全幸福的话，他应允许我享受这样的快乐，看到六七个我的敌人吊在这些树上。在他们临死之前，由于内心的感动，我将饶恕他们生前对我做的一切坏事。的确，一个人应当饶恕他的敌人——但是在他没被吊起之前绝不可能。”

[2] 任何一个人，如果他年轻时曾饱尝贫困的痛苦，并且感受过富人们的蔑视和傲慢，毋庸置疑，他对于目前反抗财富不均及其一切后果的努力，绝对不会不理解或没有任何好感。当然，如果这样的反抗打着公正的名义，呼吁人人平等这一抽象要求，那么，其异议就太明显了：大自然赋予每个人不同的身体素质和心理能力，这样的不公正根本无法革除。

6

在过去的写作过程中，我从未如此强烈地感到，我所描述的东西不过是些众所周知的事情，而我还在浪费着纸张笔墨，在一定的时候还要浪费排字工人和印刷工人的劳动，来论述一些实际上是不言而喻的东西。基于此，如果承认一个特殊、独立的攻击本能的存在，似乎意味着必须对精神分析理论关于本能方面的内容做出修改，我将会非常乐意地去修改。

然而我们将会看到，事情并非如此，很久以前，精神分析论就存在这样的一个方向改变，现在只不过是更加热切地关注这一方向，并沿着这一方向追踪下去，探寻后果罢了。在分析理论的缓慢发展过程中，关于本能原理的摸索是最费劲的一个。但本能原理对于精神分析的整个结构必不可少，因此必须充实这一理论。在最初我感到完全迷失的时候，诗人哲学家席勒的一句话给我提供了最初的线索，其大意是“食欲与性欲”构成了这个世界的机制。食欲可以看做代表旨在保存个体的本能；而性欲则寻求对象，其主要功能，因自然各方面的恩赐，是保存人类这一物种。所以，最初自我本能和对象本能相互对立。我采用“力比多”这一术语是表示后者，而且仅仅表示后一种本能的能量。因而这一对立就是自我本能和指向对象的爱（从最广的意义上讲）的力比多本能之间的对立。诚然，这些对象本能中的一种，即性虐狂本能，和其他对象本能完全不同；因为它完全缺乏爱。再者，从某些方面来说，它明显地依附于自我本能；它无法掩盖其与旨在控制的本能之间的紧密联系，而与力比多目的无关。然而，这样的矛盾还是可以克服的：毕竟，性虐狂显然是性生活中的一部分；只不过，在这种性生活中，温柔为残忍所取代。精神病似乎就是自我保存的利益和力比多需要之间斗争的结果，在这一斗争中，自我胜出，但却付出了痛苦和牺牲的惨重代价。

每一个分析家都会承认，即使在今天，这个观点听起来仍是正确的，而不是早就被摒弃的一个错误。不过，当我们的研究从被抑制的本能的探讨发展到压抑性的原动力的探讨，从对象本能发展到自我，对精神分析论做出修改也就成为必然。这里关键性的一步是自恋概念的引进——也就是说，自我认知本身也被力比多占领，事实上是力比多的原始老巢，并且某种程度上仍是力比多的指挥部。这种自恋的力比多转向对象，于是就成为对象力比多；而对象力比多可能再次转换为自恋力比多。自恋这一概念使我们有可能对创伤性精神病，对许多与精神病密切相关的状况，以及精神病本身得以理解和分析。我们没有必要放弃移情性精神病是由自我实行阻止性欲的尝试导致的这一观点；但是力比多的概念却受到了威胁。由于自恋这种自我本能也是属于力比多的，所以我们暂时似乎必须使力比多等同于一般意义上的本能能量，正如C．荣格之前提出的那样。不过仍然可以肯定的是，本能不可能都属于同一类型，尽管目前对此我还无法解释。当强迫性重复和本能的守旧性（或倒退性）引起我的注意时，我在《超越快乐原则》（1920）一书中迈出了下一步。从对生命开端和对具有可比性的生物的思考，我得出以下结论：除了保存生物体本身并使它加入更大的单位的本能外，[1]一定还存在着另外一个相反的本能，这一本能试图分解这些单位，并且把它们送回到原始、无机的状态。这就是说，不仅存在着爱神厄洛斯，还存在着死亡本能。生命现象正可以从这两种本能的相互作用、相互抗衡中得到解释。然而，要具体说明这一假定的死亡本能的活动并非易事。厄洛斯的表现形式是清晰可见、可闻的；人们或许可以设想死亡本能在有机体趋向死亡解体的过程中悄悄地发挥着作用，但这当然还不能成为证据。一个更富有成效的设想是，一部分死亡本能转向外部世界，以攻击性本能和破坏性本能的面貌出现。通过这一途径死亡本能本身被迫转而为厄洛斯服务，因为有机体会破坏其他有生命或无生命的事物，而不是破坏其自身。相反，任何阻止攻击性向外发展的行为都必定助长有机体的自我破坏，自我破坏无论如何总会继续进行。同时，人们根据下面的例子可能得出这样的猜想：这两种本能极少或可能从不单独出现，它们总是以极为多样化的不同比例融合在一起，因而我们难以判断、辨认。在性虐狂中，它早就被视为性的部分冲动，人们可以看到爱的本能与破坏的本能极其强烈的融合形式。而它的对应物——性受虐狂——则是指向内部的破坏和性欲的结合，这一结合使得本无法觉察的抗衡变得显而易见、可以　触摸。

关于死亡本能或破坏本能存在的假想甚至在精神分析界也遭到了反对；我很清楚人们常常有这样一种倾向，就是把一切对爱不利和敌对的东西都归咎于爱的本质中的原始双向性。我在这里阐述的观点最初只是尝试地提出，但是随着时间的推移，这些观点在我头脑中变得根深蒂固，以致我再也不能从其他角度思考了。我认为，从理论的角度来看，它们比任何其他人可能会想到的理论都更有用；它们能够提供一个既不忽视、也不歪曲事实的答案，而这正是科学工作所力求达到的境地。我承认，在性虐狂和受虐狂身上，我们总能看到（向外或向内的）破坏本能与性欲牢牢地结合在一起；但是我再也无法理解我们怎能忽视非性欲的攻击性和破坏性的普遍存在，并且怎能在对生活的解释中不给它以合适的地位呢（破坏的欲望转向内部时，我们多半感受不到；当然，除非它带着性欲的色彩）。我记得关于破坏本能的思想在精神分析的著述中刚出现时，最初我自己也抗拒，并且很长时间之后才接受了这一思想。所以，当其他人抵制这一思想，并且现在仍然抵制时，我并不感到吃惊。当人们谈论到人类天生具有“邪恶”、攻击性和破坏性以及残酷性时，“儿童是不喜欢这种谈论的”。上帝根据他自己的完美形象创造了人类；谁都知道邪恶（尽管基督教科学派一贯否认，邪恶还是不可避免地存在着）与上帝的全能和至善是多么地难以调和。这时，魔鬼即成为上帝最好的辩解，就像犹太人在雅利安人的理想世界中所发挥的辩解作用一样。尽管如此，人们仍可以认为上帝应对魔鬼的存在以及魔鬼所代表的邪恶负责。鉴于这些困难，我建议每个人在适当的时候都应该向人类的道德深层本性深鞠一躬，这会帮助我们受到普遍欢迎，并使我们免除许多烦恼。[2]

“力比多”一词可以再次被用来表示厄洛斯能量的具体表现，这样做为的是把它们和死亡本能的能量加以区别。[3]必须承认，死亡本能更加难以掌握，某种程度上只能被辨认为厄洛斯留下的残余，只有与厄洛斯相融合才会显现，否则难以让人捕捉。在性虐狂中，死亡本能在充分满足性欲的同时，把性欲的目的反转向自己的目的。正是从性虐狂问题上，我们获得了死亡本能及其与厄洛斯的关系的最为清楚的认识。然而，即便死亡本能出现时没有任何目的性，在其极其麻木狂热的破坏中，这种本能的满足是伴随着高度的自恋享受的，因为这一本能的满足展示了自我无所不能的愿望如何得以实现。当破坏本能受到节制、驯服时，就像目标抑制转向对象时一样，它会帮助自我满足其生存需要、去控制自然。由于对这一本能存在的假设主要是建立在理论基础上的，所以我们应当承认它不是反对对立理论的充分证据。但在我们目前的知识结构下，事情在我们看来就是如此，将来的研究和思考无疑会决定性地澄清这一问题。

在接下来的论述中，我的观点是，攻击性倾向是人的一种原始的、自发的气质，这又回到了之前的论点上，即这一倾向构成了文明的最大障碍。之前的研究中我们也认识到文明是人类所经历的一个特殊过程，我们现在仍然受着这一思想的影响。现在需再补充一点，那就是文明是为厄洛斯服务的一个过程，它的目的是把个人，然后是家庭，最后是种族、民族和国家结合在一个大的统一体中，即人类社会。为什么必须如此，我们无从得知：纯粹是厄洛斯在发挥作用。这众多的人类必须通过力比多互相联结起来；单靠必要性即一起劳动的优势是无法把他们聚拢在一起的。然而，文明的进程遭到了人类的自然攻击性本能的对抗，这种攻击性体现为个体对群体的敌意和群体对个体的不友善。这种攻击性本能是死亡本能衍生的主要代表。我们是在死亡本能与厄洛斯同时出现时发现的，它与厄洛斯一起统治着这个世界。我想现在文明进程的含义对我们不再是什么晦涩的东西了。文明的进程一定体现出爱神和死神、生存本能和破坏本能的较量，正如在人类身上所体现的一样。这一斗争是所有生命最基本的内容，因此文明的进程可以简单地描述成人类为了生存的斗争。[4]这场巨人间的争斗，正是我们的保姆用天国的摇篮曲所试图缓和的争斗。

————————————————————

[1] 厄洛斯永无休止的扩张性趋势与本能的守旧性之间对立明显，这一对立可以成为对下一步问题进行研究的出发点。

[2] 歌德的《浮士德》一书中摩菲斯特这一人物，让我们看到了把罪恶根源与破坏本能画上等号的一个相当具有说服力的例子：“一切产生的事物／都应当被破坏／……／因此，你所称的一切罪行，／破坏——简而言之——邪恶／那才是我真正的本性。”

这个魔鬼自认为他的敌人并不是至善，而是大自然生育和繁衍的力量，即厄洛斯：“从水中、土中和空气中显露出来，／成千的胚芽破土而出，蓬勃生长／在干燥、潮湿、温暖和寒冷之中／如果我不是真的蕴藏着热情的火焰的话，／那我就没有什么特别的东西可以展示了。”

[3] 我们现在的观点大致可以表述如下：每种本能的表现都有力比多的参与，但并非所有的表现都是力比多。

[4] 或许更精确起见，我们应该加上一句：经过某一事件后，文明必将呈现的某种形式，仍然是一种猜测而已。

7

为什么我们的动物亲戚们没有表现出这样的文化斗争呢？我们无从得知。但很可能有一些动物，比如说蜜蜂、蚂蚁和白蚁，它们斗争了几千年，然后形成了其国家制度、分工和对个体的约束机制，让我们羡慕不已。我们现状的特点是，在上述任何一个动物的王国里或者成为其中任何一种所分配的角色，我们都不会感觉幸福。至于其他动物，环境影响和它们内部各种冲突的本能之间很可能已达到暂时的平衡，因而发展也就停了下来。在原始人中，新一轮力比多的爆发也许会触发抵抗破坏性本能的新活动。这里尚有许多问题需要追问，许多问题尚未得到回答。

另一问题与我们的关系更为密切。这一问题是文明用什么方法来抑制与自己对抗的攻击性，使其失去危害，并且可能的话消除它呢？我们已经认识到了其中几种方法，但似乎尚未发现最重要的方法。对此我们可以在个人发展的例子上加以研究。个人身上究竟发生了什么事，让他把攻击性变得无害呢？一定发生了什么奇怪的事情，这一点显而易见，我们不会怀疑。他的攻击性转而向内投射、被内化，实际上也就是被遣回到其发源地——换言之，指向他的自我。在那里它被一部分自我所接管，这部分自我成为超我，与自我的其他部分相对立，并且以“良知”的形式，对本想指向其他个体的自我施加同等严厉的攻击性，来管束自我。严厉的超我和受制于它的自我之间的紧张关系被我们叫做“内疚感”，表现为一种对惩罚的需要。这样，就像在一座已被占领的城市中派兵驻防一样，文明通过削弱个体、剥夺他的武器、建立了一个内在的权威来监视他，从而克服了个人危险的攻击性。

关于内疚感的起源，精神分析家和其他心理学家持不同看法；但即使是分析家也发现要解释这一问题并不容易。首先，如果我们问一个人怎么会有了内疚感时，会得到一个不容怀疑的答案：当一个人做了某种他知道是“坏的”事情时，他就会感到内疚（虔诚的人们会说是“邪恶的”事情）。但是我们看到这一答案并未讲出任何实质性内容。稍稍犹豫后，我们会补充说，即使一个人没有真正去做坏事，而只是意识到自己有干坏事的意图，他也可能会感到内疚；于是有人会提出这样的问题：为什么会把做坏事的意图和做坏事的行为等同起来呢？然而，两种情况都存在着一个前提条件，即我们认为邪恶是应遭到谴责的，是不应付诸实施的。这一判断我们又是如何做出的呢？我们或许会否定存在着一种原始、天生的辨别是非的能力。邪恶对于自我来说，常常并不是什么有害或危险的东西，恰恰相反，可能是自我所欢迎和享受的东西。因此，这里有一个外部的影响在起作用，恰恰是这一影响决定了什么是好事，什么是坏事。由于一个人自身的情感并不会把他引向这条途径，所以他必须有一个服从这一外部影响的动机。在一个人孤立无援的情况下和对别人的依靠中，我们可以轻易地发现这一动机，并恰当地把这一动机称为对丧失爱的惧怕。如果他失去了他所依靠的人的爱，他就失去了保护，面临着种种危险。首先，他会面临被惩罚的危险，较强大的人会用惩罚的形式来显示其优势。所以在最初，邪恶会让人面临丧失爱的危险，人因此必须避免邪恶的行为和念头。因此一个人是否已经干了坏事或者仅仅有这样的打算两者没有多大差别。无论哪一种情况，只要被监视的权威发现，丧失爱的危险就会降临，并且任何一种情况下，权威的做法都是一样。

这种精神状态叫做“问心有愧”，但实际上它名不副实，因为在这个阶段，内疚感显然仅仅是一种对失去爱的恐惧，一种“社会性的”焦虑。在小孩子中间，内疚感仅是如此，绝不会是任何其他东西；但对许多成年人而言，唯一的改变是，曾经是父亲或者父母亲所占据的位置现在被一个更大的人类社会所取代。因此，只要确信权威不会知晓他们所干的坏事，或不会因此责怪他们，他们就常常允许自己去干种种可能给予他们乐趣的坏事；他们所害怕的只是被发现。这是今天的社会需要应付的普遍状况。

在这一权威实现内化，建立起超我之前，事情并没有太大变化。建立超我后，良知的现象才达到了一个新的高度，只有这时候，人们才可以正确地讨论良知和内疚感。[1]这时，担心被发现的问题不复存在了，而且做坏事和做坏事的念头之间的区别也全然消失了，因为一切东西、即便是人自己的想法都瞒不过超我。自然，事情的现实危险已经过去，因为据我们所知的一切，超我这一新的权威没有理由去虐待自我，因为它与自我密切相连；但形成超我的方式依然在起作用，使得已被克服的过去的东西继续存续下来，以致事情实质上与一开始没有差别。超我以同样的焦虑折磨着邪恶的自我，并伺机寻找机会让自我接受外部世界的惩罚。

在良知发展的第二个阶段，它呈现出一种特性，这种特性在第一阶段是没有的，并且不再那么容易解释。一个人越是道德高尚，其良知对自我就越严厉、越不信任，所以最终恰恰是这些最圣洁的人指责自己罪恶最为深重。这意味着美德剥夺了其一部分应得的奖赏；顺从和节制的自我并没有获得它的指导者的信任，似乎只是徒劳地去努力获取超我的信任。我相信很快就会有人提出异议，说这些困难是人为的，并且有人会说一个更加严格的、警惕性更高的良知正是道德本性的特征。此外，道德高尚的人称他们自己为罪人时，并不是没有道理，鉴于那些满足本能的诱惑，尤其是他们所受到的那些强烈诱惑——众所周知，诱惑只是在频频受挫后才会增强，而对它们偶尔满足却会使它们至少是暂时地被削弱。在疑问丛出的道德学领域还有一个事实是：恶运——换言之，外部挫折——大大增强了超我的良知力量。当一个人一切都顺利时，他的良知是宽容的，并且放任自我做各种事情；但是当恶运降临到他头上时，他就检查自己的灵魂，承认自己的罪过，提高良知的要求，强制自己禁欲并且用苦行来惩罚自己。[2]整个人类都这样做过，而且还在这样做。然而，这一点很容易用原始的、婴幼儿期的良知来解释。正如我们看到的，在良知进入超我阶段后，这一早期的良知并没有被放弃，而是始终站在超我的身旁和身后。命运被认为是父母权威的替代者。如果一个人不走运，那就意味着他不再为这一至高无上的力量所青睐；并且由于受到这种失去爱的威胁，他就会再一次服从于超我这一虚拟的父母权威——而在他走运时，则乐于忽略这一权威。如果人们持一种严格宗教意义上的观点，把命运视为神的意志的体现的话，上述情况就更显而易见了。以色列人相信他们是上帝的宠儿，当伟大的天父将一个接一个的不幸降临到他们头上时，他们从来没有怀疑过他们与上帝的关系，或者质疑过其权力和公正。相反，他们产生出先知，让先知斥责他们所犯的罪行，并从内疚中创造出具有极其严格训诫的犹太教体系。奇怪的是，原始人的表现则完全不同。如果他遇到了不幸，他不是责备自己，而是责备他的崇拜物，责备它显然没有尽到责任，并且他不会自罚而是鞭打他的崇拜物。

因而，我们了解到了内疚感的两个来源：一个源自对于某个权威的恐惧，另一个源自对后来出现的超我的恐惧。对权威的恐惧迫使我们抑制本能的满足；对超我的恐惧不仅迫使我们抑制本能的满足，而且还坚持惩罚我们自己，因为被禁止的欲望的存在是瞒不过超我的。我们也了解到该如何去理解超我的严厉性，即良知的要求。严厉的超我纯粹地保持了外部权威的严厉，它接替并部分地取代了外部权威。现在我们可以看到，对本能的克制是如何与内疚感联系起来的。最初，对本能的克制是由于惧怕外部权威；一个人为了不丧失爱便放弃了某些本能的满足。如果一个人实现了这样的克制，他就可以说是服从于外部权威了，并且也不再有内疚感了。但是对于超我的恐惧，情形就不同了。在这里，对本能的克制是不够的，因为本能的欲念依然存在并且不能瞒过超我。因此，尽管克制了欲望，内疚感还会发生，这就在超我的建立过程中，或者说是良知的形成中，造成了一个很不经济的条件。对本能的克制再也不会让人感到完全轻松自由；虔诚的节欲也不再保证会得到爱的奖赏。外部不幸的威胁——爱的丧失和外部权威的惩罚——已经转换成了内心永久的不幸，转换成了内疚感所产生的焦虑。

这些相互关系极其复杂但又极其重要，因此，我不怕重复，将从另一个角度再来探讨这一问题。这些关系发生的先后顺序如下所述：首先，由于恐惧外部权威的攻击而产生了对本能的克制（这当然就是对失去爱的恐惧造成的结果，因为爱可以使人们免除这种惩罚性的攻击）。然后是内部权威的建立，由于对它的恐惧，即对良知的恐惧，产生了对本能的抑制。在第二种情况下，做坏事的企图和做坏事的行为是相当的，因此就有了内疚感和对惩罚的需要。良知的攻击性接替了外部权威的攻击性。到目前为止，事情无疑已经弄清楚了；但是不幸（从外部迫使本能的抑制，从而进一步增强良知）施加的影响又有什么样的地位呢？以及在最善良、最温顺的人们身上，良知那惊人的严厉性又发挥着怎样的作用？我们对良心的这两种特性已做过解释，但是我们大概仍然觉得这些解释并未触及问题的实质，仍然还有一些问题尚未得到解释。最后，这里出现了一种观念，它完全属于精神分析领域，与人们的一般思维方式不同。这种观念可以使我们明白为什么我们研究的对象好像总是混乱和模糊不清的。它告诉我们首先是良知（说得更准确些，是恐惧——后来变成了良知）促使我们对本能进行克制，但是后来这种因果关系就颠倒了。每一种对本能的抑制现在都成为良知的一个动态源泉，并且每一种新的抑制都增强了后者的严厉和苛刻。如果我们能把这一说法与已知的关于良知的起因较好地统一起来，我们就不由得要赞成以下似非而是的论述，即良知是克制本能的结果，或者说这种（从外部强加我们的）对本能的抑制产生了良知，然后良知又要求进一步抑制本能。

这一论述和以前关于良心起因的说法之间的矛盾实际上并不太大，而且之后我们会发现有办法让矛盾变得更少。为了便于阐述，我们把攻击本能作为例子，并且假设这里所谈的抑制总是指对攻击性的抑制（这当然只是暂时的假想）。于是，抑制本能对良知所产生的作用便是：我们抑制的攻击性都被超我接管，超我进而加强了（对自我）的攻击性。这一观点与良知最初的攻击性是外部权威的严厉性的延续因而与抑制无关的观点存在分歧。但是，如果我们为超我攻击性的最初部分假设一个不同的来源，这种分歧就不复存在了。比如，不管外部权威剥夺的是儿童哪一种本能的满足，它都使儿童不能满足其最初的、但也是最重要的各种满足，所以在儿童身上一定会形成对外部权威相当程度的攻击性。但是，他必须抑制这种报复性的攻击本能的满足，于是，借助大家所熟悉的种种机制，他找到了摆脱这一困境的途径。通过自在等同，他把这个无法攻击的权威融进自身。权威现已变成了他的超我，并接管了作为孩子原本要反抗的所有攻击性。儿童的自我必须满足于扮演倒霉的权威即父亲的角色，这样一来，父亲的地位就降低了。在这里，事情的真实情形常常是颠倒的：“如果我是父亲，你是孩子，我将会对你更坏。”超我和自我之间的关系是尚未分化的自我和外在对象间真实关系的回归，只不过这种关系因为主体的欲望而遭到扭曲。这种情况具有典型性。但是根本区别则是超我最初的严厉性不代表或者说不完全代表一个人从对象那里所体验到的或者归之于对象的严厉性；它毋宁说是代表一个人自身对外部对象的攻击性。如果这个说法是正确的，我们就可以接前文观点断言，良知一开始是通过对攻击性冲动的压抑产生的，后来由于进一步的类似压抑而得到加强。

这两种观点哪一种是对的呢？先提出的那种观点从种系进化模式的角度看似乎是无懈可击的；而新提出的这种观点则以上述令人满意的方式使这一理论得到圆满的阐述。很显然，二者都说得通，直接观察的事实也证明了这一点。它们相互并不矛盾，甚至在某一点上它们是一致的，因为儿童的报复攻击性一部分是由他所预料的父亲的惩罚攻击性程度所决定的。然而经验表明，儿童所形成的超我的严厉性和他所受到的待遇的严厉性绝不是对应的。前者的严厉性似乎独立于后者的严厉性。一个在宽容的环境中长大的孩子可能会有非常严厉的良知。但是，夸大这种独立性也是错误的；我们不难相信，养育的严厉程度也会对孩子的超我的形成产生巨大影响。这就等于说，在超我的形成和良知的出现过程中，天生的气质因素和来自现实环境的影响是一起发挥作用的。这根本谈不上令人吃惊；相反，它是所有这些过程的一个普遍的起因条件。[3]

可以断言，当一个孩子用极其强烈的攻击性和相应严厉的超我来对他最初的本能挫折做出反应时，这还是符合种系进化模式的，但其过激的反应，即便今天还是难以理解，这个原始社会的父亲无疑极其残忍暴戾。因此，如果我们从个体的发展转移到种系的进化，关于良知起源的两种理论间的差异就进一步缩小了。另一方面，我们就会注意到在这两个发展过程中存在一个重要的新的差异。我们无法摆脱这样一个设想，即人类的内疚感是从俄底浦斯情结中萌生的，这种情况在弟兄们联合起来杀死父亲的时候就存在了，在这种情况下，攻击性的行为不是被压抑而是被付诸实施——而对父亲的这种攻击性行为进行压抑，也被认为是儿童内疚感的原因。这时候，气愤填膺的读者如果做出如下抗议，我绝不会感到惊奇。“那么一个人是否杀死自己的父亲就无关紧要了——他在两种情况下都会产生内疚感。我们在这儿可以提出几点疑问，或者内疚感并非产生于对攻击性的压抑；或者杀父的故事是杜撰的，原始人的孩子与今天的孩子一样，并不经常杀父。此外，如果这个故事不是杜撰的，而是一段可信的历史，那么人们也会认为发生这样的事情是可能的——一个人感到内疚是因为他确实干了不该干的事情。而这样的例子，每天都有发生，精神分析却没做任何解释。”

读者的批评颇有道理，我们应弥补这一遗漏。这个问题并没有什么神秘之处。当一个人因做错一件事而内疚，这种情感应该称作悔恨更为合适。它只是与已经做过的行为有关，而且它的前提是良知——感到内疚的准备状态——已经在这一行为发生之前就存在了。因此，这种悔恨永远不会帮助我们发现良知和一般的内疚感的起源。日常情形通常是：本能的需要占了上风，战胜了相对无力的良知，获得了满足；一旦得到满足后，本能需要就自然减弱，于是又恢复了之前与良知相对平衡的状态。因而，在现在的探讨中，精神分析法有理由把由悔恨产生的内疚感的情况排除在外，不管这种情况出现得多么频繁，也不管它们实际上的重要性有多大。

但是，如果把人类的内疚感追溯到杀死原始社会的父亲，那也只不过是“悔恨”的一个例子。因此，我们是否该假设良知和内疚感在杀父之前尚不存在呢？那么在这种情况下，悔恨是从哪里产生的呢？毫无疑问，这个例子将会为我们拨开内疚感的迷雾，并且结束我们目前的尴尬局面。我相信这是能够做到的。这种悔恨是人对于父亲原生的矛盾情感的结果。他的儿子们恨他，但也爱他。在儿子们通过攻击行为满足了他们的憎恨之后，他们的爱就会在对这种行为的悔恨中体现出来。通过模仿父亲的自居作用，这种爱建立起超我，并赋予它父亲的权力，就好像是要惩罚他们对父亲的攻击性行为，它制定了旨在避免重现这种行为的种种限制。由于反对父亲的攻击性倾向在以后的世世代代中会反复出现，内疚感也就一直存在，每一次攻击性被压抑后，转到超我上，内疚感就会进而增强。现在，我想你们对于两件事可以说是完全清楚了：在良知的起源中，爱所发挥的作用，以及内疚感产生的不可避免性。一个人不论是否杀死了自己的父亲并不真正具有决定性的作用。不管在哪种情况下，一个人都必定会感到内疚，因为内疚感是矛盾心理斗争的表现。是爱神厄洛斯和破坏或死亡本能间的无止境斗争的表现。当人们面临共同生活的任务时，这一冲突就被煽动起来。只要家庭还是集体生活的唯一形式，这一冲突注定表现为俄底浦斯情结形式，从而建立起良知并且产生最初的内疚感。当文明试图从家庭集体延伸到社会集体时，过去所决定的冲突形式，延续了下去，并且被强化，导致了内疚感的进一步加剧。由于文明所遵从的是内在性欲冲动，这种冲动要求把人类组成为一个密切联结的群体，所以它只能通过内疚感的不断增强而达到其目的。起初与父亲有关的事情，在与群体的关系中得以实现。如果说文明是从家庭向整个人类社会发展的必要过程，那么，由于来自矛盾心理的先天的冲突，以及爱和死亡意愿之间无休止的斗争，文明将必然与日益增长的内疚感难分难解地联系在一起，而且这种内疚感也许会达到一个令人难以忍受的程度。人们不禁会想到伟大诗人对“天神们”尖锐的指控：

“你们把我们带到人世间，你让可怜的人儿感到内疚，然后让他遭受惩罚，因为在世间一切罪过终遭报应。”

当我们认识到只有少数人才能毫不费力地从他们自己混乱的感情中产生最深刻的认识，而其余的人必须历经痛苦、不确定的摸索，才能最终找到通往真理的道路，我们或许可以舒一口气。

————————————————————

[1] 任何一个反应敏锐的人都会理解并考虑到这样一个事实：这不仅仅是一个超我存在的问题，而且是其相对力量和影响范围的问题，并且这是一个逐渐过渡的过程，这些问题在上面的概括性陈述中都得到了明确的区分。到目前为止，对良知和内疚的所有论述都是众所周知、毋庸置疑的。

[2] 恶运在提升道德水准中发挥着作用，这一主题在马克·吐温的一篇有趣的短篇小说《我偷的第一个瓜》中得到揭示。这第一个瓜碰巧尚未成熟，我听到马克·吐温自己读着这个故事，读出标题后，他停顿下来，然后自问：“是第一个吗？”这就说明了一切：第一个，而不是唯一一个。

[3] 在《对总体人格的精神分析》（1927）一书中，弗兰兹·亚历山大准确地评价了两种主要导致儿童患病的养育方法——过度严厉和过度娇宠，并与艾卡豪恩对少年犯罪的研究联系起来。“过度宽容和溺爱的父亲”是孩子形成过分严厉的超我的原因。因为只在爱的影响下，他们没有发泄其攻击性的方法，只有把它转入内部。少年犯在缺乏爱的环境下长大，他们缺乏自我和超我之间的紧张状态，所以整个攻击性都能指向外部。所以如果不考虑假定存在的气质方面的因素，我们可以说严厉的良知起源于两个因素的相互作用：本能的挫折和被爱的体验，前者释放出攻击性；后者使攻击性转向内部并且把它交给超我。

8

本书写到此时，作者必须请求读者原谅，原谅作者不是一个熟练的向导，因此让读者走了一些乏味、单调的岔路和绕道。作者本可以做得更好一些。在此，我设法做些改善，虽然似乎有点晚了。

首先，我猜想读者会认为我们对内疚感的讨论破坏了本书的框架：这些讨论占据了太多篇幅，而其他与这些关系不很密切的论题就被挤到了一边。这可能扰乱了本项研究的结构；但它与本项研究的意图却是一致的，即呈现出内疚感是文明发展所面临的最重要的问题，并且表明我们为了文明所付出的失去幸福的代价正是由于内疚感的加强而造成的。[1]

这一命题，即我们研究的最终结论，似乎仍然有些奇怪，其原因大概可追溯到内疚感和我们的意识这一奇特的关系上，这种关系我们仍然不太理解。在我们视为正常的悔恨的一般情况下，内疚感可以很清晰地为意识所觉察到。实际上，我们习惯于说“内疚意识”，而不是说“内疚感”。对精神病的研究为我们提供了认识正常状况的最有价值的线索，但它也使我们遇到了一些矛盾。精神病中有一种名为强迫观念性精神病，表现为病人的内疚感强加于意识；支配着该病的临床症状以及病人的生活，几乎不容其他任何东西出现在它旁边。但是在精神病的大多数情况和形式中，内疚感则完全是无意识的，然而却并没有因此而减少其重要影响。当我们告诉病人他们有“无意识内疚感”时，他们不相信。为了让他们或多或少理解我们的说法，我们给他们说起对惩罚的无意识需要，内疚感就是通过这种需要表现的。但是内疚感与某种形式的精神病的关联不应被过分强调，因为即使在强迫观念性精神病中，某些类型的病人如果被阻止做出某些行为，他们也意识不到自己的内疚感，或只能把它感受为一种令人痛苦的不安，或是一种焦虑而已。终有一天，这些情况我们会弄清楚，但目前还不行。在这里，指出下述这一点或许有益：从根本上讲，内疚感只不过是焦虑的一种局部形式；在其后来发展阶段，它完全与对超我的恐惧融合在一起。同样，焦虑相对于意识，我们也发现了同样特别的变化形式。焦虑总是以某种形式掩藏在每种病症的后面，尽管有时候会控制着整个意识，而在别的时候，它则完全把自己隐藏起来——因为焦虑首先只是一种感觉，如果我们想要保持心理上的问心无愧——我们不得不谈论无意识焦虑，或者存在焦虑的可能性。因此，完全可以设想，文明所产生的内疚感本身也未被觉察到，它在很大程度上仍是无意识的，或者只是表现为一种不适，一种不满足感，人们因此转而寻找其他动机。至少宗教从来没有忽略过内疚感在文明中所发挥的作用，此外还有一点——这我之前并没有意识到——它们声称要把人类从这种内疚感（他们称之为原罪）中救赎出来。在基督教中，耶稣一个人的牺牲，承担起所有人的原罪，其他人因此得到救赎。从这种救赎方式我们可以推断原始内疚产生的时机，这一时机也标志着文明的开端。

以下对几个术语的解释尽管不可能特别重要，但也未必完全多余，如“超我”、“良知”、“内疚感”、“对惩罚的需要”和“悔恨”，因为这些词我们也许常常用得不太准确并且经常混淆。它们都适用于同一关系，只是指代这一关系的不同方面。超我是我们假定的一个权威，良知是我们归于这个权威的一个功能——这一功能包括监管和评价自我的行为和意图，执行一种审查制度。内疚感即超我的严厉性，因此与良知的严厉性是等同的。它是自我对于这样被监视的一种感觉，是对自我的抗争与超我的要求之间的紧张状况的评估。对超我这一挑剔的权威的恐惧——存在于整个超我自我关系之下的恐惧，相当于对惩罚的需要——是自我这一方面的本能表现，自我在残酷的超我的影响下形成受虐倾向。它将其固有本能内在破坏性的一部分用于与超我建立起爱的纽带。直到可以证明超我的存在时，我们才应当谈论到良知。至于说内疚感，我们必须说它是先于超我而存在的，因此也就先于良知而存在。当时，它是对外部权威恐惧的直接表现，是对自我和外部权威之间的紧张状态的承认。它是对外部爱的需要和本能满足的欲望——对这种欲望的抑制产生了攻击性——之间冲突的直接产物。内疚感的这两个层次——一个来自对外部权威的恐惧，一个来自对内部权威的恐惧——的重叠在若干方面妨碍了我们对良知的认识。悔恨是在涉及内疚感的情形下自我的反应的一个总称。它包含了内疚感背后发挥作用的焦虑的原始感觉的材料形式；它本身是一种惩罚，而且可能包括对惩罚的需要。所以，悔恨也可能比良知产生得更早。

在此再回顾一下探讨过程中令我们一时困惑不解的矛盾同样有益无害。我们一度称内疚感是因放弃攻击性行为而产生的，而另一时候又称内疚感是因为实施了攻击行为的结果——发生在历史之初的杀父行为之后的结果。我们设法找到解决这一矛盾的方法。因为内部权威超我的建立，这一情况发生了根本变化。在这之前，内疚感等同于悔恨，而“悔恨”这一名称应当用来指真正实施了攻击性行为之后产生的反应。在这之后，由于超我的无所不知，攻击企图和攻击行为之间的区别失去了意义。从此以后，内疚感不仅可以因为暴力行为的实施而产生（这一点众所周知），而且可以仅仅因为存在暴力行为的意图而产生（正如精神分析所发现的）。尽管有这一新的心理情况的出现，但两种主要原始本能之间矛盾心理的冲突，仍然会产生同样的效果。显然在这里我们极其想通过内疚感与意识之间的不同关系去解决这里所提出的问题。我们可能会认为对于某种邪恶行为的悔恨的内疚感应当总是有意识的，而对某种邪恶冲动的感觉的内疚感却可能是无意识的。但事实并不那么简单：强迫观念性精神病强有力地反驳了这一观点。第二个矛盾关系到超我的攻击能量。一种观点认为这种攻击能量仅仅是外部权威的惩罚能量的延续，并使这种能量保存于心灵中；而另一种观点认为，它是由用来反对施加抑制的外部权威的、自身尚未使用的攻击能量所组成的。第一种观点似乎更适用于内疚感的历史，第二种观点则更适用于内疚感的理论。进一步的思考则可以圆满解决这一表面看来似乎不可调和的矛盾；两种观点共同的必要因素都涉及内化了的攻击性。再者，临床的观察实际上允许我们把归于超我的攻击性来源区分为两个；在特定情况下，其中一个发挥较强的作用，但通常他们都是共同发挥作用。

我认为，此处郑重地提出以下观点是个合适的时机，而早些时候我曾建议暂时接受这一观点。即任何一种挫折——本能满足的任何受阻——都会或可能导致内疚感的增强。最新的分析学著作均表现出对这种观点的偏好。如果我们认为这一观点仅适用于攻击性本能，那么我认为我们的理论就能大为简化，并且我们也不会找到与这一假想相矛盾的东西。那么我们该如何灵活、经济地解释未满足的性爱要求被内疚感的增强所取代这一现象呢？只要采用迂回的方法，还是可以解释的——假如我们设想性爱满足的受阻会引起对干涉这一满足的那个人的某种攻击性，并且这种攻击性本身接着不得不受到抑制。但如果是这样的话，那么由于被压抑并且转交给超我而转变成内疚感的，归根到底只是攻击性。我相信，如果精神分析的发现关于内疚感的起源方面仅限于攻击性本能的话，那么我们对许多过程就可以做出更为简单和清晰的解释。对临床材料的考察在这里没有给予我们任何明确的答复：因为正如我们的假设所讲，这两种本能几乎从来不以纯粹的、相互分离的形式出现。但是对极端病例的研究也许会指向我所期望的方向。通过将这一局限性的观点应用于压抑过程，从而从中推论出它的基本优点，还是很具诱惑力的。正如我们所知，精神病的症状从其本质上看是对于未实现的性愿望的替代性满足。在我们的精神分析工作过程中，我们惊奇地发现，可能每一种精神病都隐蔽着一定量的无意识的内疚感，它反过来又利用精神病症状，作为一种惩罚，从而增强了这些症状。现在明确地阐述出下列主张似乎不无道理，即当一种本能受到压抑时，它的力比多因素就会转化为症状，它的攻击性因素就会转化为内疚感。即使这一论点只是接近于事实，但它还是值得我们去关注。

此外，这部著作的某些读者可能会有这样的感觉，就是关于厄洛斯和死亡本能之间的斗争规则讲得过多了些。这一规则旨在表示人类所经历的文明历程以及个体所经历的发展历程的特点。此外，据说它还揭示了一般有机生命体的秘密。如此一来，探究三种过程的相互关系似乎就很有必要。如果我们考虑到人类文明的进程和个人的发展过程都是重要的历程，因此一定带有生命的最普遍意义上的本质，那么我们就有充分理由反复讨论上述斗争规则了。另一方面，斗争规则的普遍特性意味着仅仅证明其存在，对于区分三种过程毫无帮助，除非通过特定的条件来限制缩小它的范围。因此，我们只可能满足于这样的断言，即文明的历程是生命历程的一种特殊修正形式，而生命历程是生命在面临由厄洛斯所确定、阿南刻（现实的迫切性）所敦促的任务下所经历的过程，这个任务就是通过力比多纽带将离散的个体凝聚到集体之中。然而，当我们集中关注人类文明与个体发展或成长过程之间的关系时，我们可以毫不迟疑地做出如下结论，即二者在本质上即便不是同一过程，也是极其相似的，因为二者涉及两个不同的对象。当然，人类文明与个体发展相比，属于较高等级的抽象，因此也就比较难以用具体的术语来描述，我们也不要一味追求二者之间的类似之处；但是考虑到这两个过程的目的的相似性——一个是创造一个由许多个体组成的群体，另一个是把个体融合到这样的群体中——我们对于二者使用的方法和导致的结果方面的相似之处也就不会感到吃惊了。但是，这两个过程之间有一个特别重要的区别，在此不得不提。在个人的发展过程中，旨在获得幸福的快乐原则仍是至高无上的。个体适应或融入集体，则似乎是达到幸福目的的一个几乎不可回避的前提条件。如果这一目的能够脱离那个条件而实现，也许会更好一些。换句话说，个人的发展过程似乎是两种趋势相互影响的结果：一种是对幸福的追求，我们通常称之为“利己的”，另一种是对集体中的伙伴关系的追求，我们称之为“利他的”。这两个术语都没有深入到问题的本质。如同我们所说的，在个人发展的过程中，重点在于利己的对幸福的追求；而另一种追求可以说带有“文化的”性质，则通常只满足于发挥强制性限制的作用。在文明的发展过程中，情形就不同了。在这里，首要的是把人类个体形成一个统一体。诚然，幸福的目的依然存在，但被推到了一个次要的位置上。甚至如果不是必须关注个人幸福的话，一个巨大的人类社会集体的创造将会变得极其成功。因而，个人的发展过程可能具有其独特的方面，这些方面为人类文明的发展所不容。只有当个人的发展把与集体的融合作为它的目的时，它才与人类文明的发展存在一致性。

正像行星在围绕恒星公转的同时，也围绕自己的轴自转一样，个体在参加人类发展过程的同时，也在走着自己的生活道路。但隐约看来，天体中各种力量的相互作用似乎凝固成一种永恒不变的秩序；而在有机生命领域里，我们却能看到各种力量是如何互相竞争、冲突，如何产生千变万化的结果的。同样地，个人幸福与人类同伴关系这两种追求在每个人身上不得不相互斗争；因此个人发展和文化发展这两个过程也必定相互抵触，彼此争夺地盘。但是，个人和社会间的斗争并不是厄洛斯与死亡这两个主要本能间也许是不可调合的矛盾的衍生物。它是力比多的充分利用问题上的争执，可以比之为自我与对象在力比多分配上的争夺。不论目前的文明如何压抑着个人生活，我们希望未来的文明中，这种自我与对象在力比多分配上的矛盾能够最终在个体身上得到调和。

文明的发展和个人的发展之间的类比可以做出进一步的有意义的延伸。我们完全有理由宣称，人类集体同样逐渐形成了超我，在这个超我的影响下，文明的发展得以产生。任何一个熟知不同文明的人一定忍不住去详细探索这一意义上的类比。我在此仅提出几个突出的观点。一个时代文明的超我与个人的超我有着类似的起源。它建立在伟大领袖人物的人格所留下的影响基础之上——这些领袖天生具有强大的精神和智慧力量，或者说在他们身上表现出某种最强烈、最纯粹、往往也是最片面的人类追求的形式。在许多实例中，这一类比甚至进一步延伸下去：这些领袖人物，在其有生之年，经常（即便不总是）受到别人的嘲弄和虐待，甚至被残忍地处死——实际上，原始社会的那个父亲的命运就是如此：他直到被暴力处死之后很久才获得了尊敬。领袖人物的这种注定的命运，在基督耶稣身上体现得最为淋漓尽致——如果他不是一个虚构的人物，不是从原始事件的模糊记忆中创造出来的话。文化超我和个人超我的另一个相同点就是两者都建立起了严厉的理想要求；未达到这些要求将会遭到“良知的恐惧”的惩罚。于是，这里我们遇到了一个奇怪的现象，即我们在群体中所看到的相关精神过程比起在个体中看到的更为我们所熟悉，更加容易被意识到。在个人身上，超我的攻击性，只在紧张状态出现时，以谴责的形式清晰地呈现出来；而真正的要求本身却仍然保持在无意识的背景中。这些要求，如果带到意识中，我们就会发现它们与现行文化的超我的戒律是一致的。至此，群体的文化发展和个体的个人发展这两个过程呈现出规则的一致性。因此，超我的一些表现和特征在文化集体的行为中要比在个人行为中更容易被发现。

文化超我在形成它的理想后，就会树立起各种要求。在这些要求中，处理人们之间相互关系的则集体冠以伦理学之名。人们总是赋予伦理学很高的价值，似乎希望伦理学发挥极其重要的作用。事实上，伦理学关注的是文明中最令人痛苦的处境。因而伦理学也被看做一种治疗的尝试——通过超我的命令，取得迄今为止其他文化活动都无法取得的成效。正如我们所知，摆在我们面前的问题是，如何摆脱文明的最大障碍——人类具有互相攻击的气质上的倾向；正因为这个缘故，我们才尤其关心可能是文化超我的最新要求，即“爱邻居犹如爱自己”的训诫。对精神病的研究和治疗引起我们对个人超我提出两种非议：在它严厉的戒律和禁令中，它很少考虑自我的幸福，因为它首先没有充分地估计本我在反对服从这些要求和戒律方面的本能的力量；其次，没有充分地估计现实的外部环境所造成的困难。因此，为了达到治疗的目的，我们常常必须反对病人的超我，并且试图降低它的要求。同样地，我们也可以反对文化超我的伦理要求。它也没有充分地考虑到人类的精神构造的实际情况。它发布了命令，却不询问人们是否能够服从它。相反，它设想一个人的自我从心理角度上能够办得到要求它做的任何事情，自我能绝对控制住本我。这种设想是错误的。即使在正常人身上，他的本我也只能在一定范围内得到控制。如果对一个人要求过多，在他身上就会产生一种反抗心理，或者引起精神病，或者使他不愉快。“爱邻居犹如爱自己”这一训诫是对人类攻击性最强有力的防备，并且是文化超我行事的非心理学方式的一个出色例子。这一训诫是不可能实现的；如此夸张的爱只能降低爱的价值，而不能摆脱人类相互攻击的困境。文明对此置若罔闻；它只是提醒着我们，一个训诫越是难以遵从，它就越值得去遵从。然而在今天的文明中，遵循这个训诫的人与漠视这个训诫的人相比，只能使自己处于不利的地位。如果对攻击性的防备可能引起像攻击性本身所引起的那么多的不愉快，那么攻击性对文明来说是怎样一个强大的障碍啊！这种情形下，我们所谓的“自然”伦理学，除了让人们获得一种认为自己比别人强的自恋的满足之外，别无其他。正是这时候，基于宗教的伦理学登场了，向人们做出一个更美好的来世的承诺。我个人认为，只要美德在现世得不到酬报，伦理学的说教将是徒劳的。同时，在这方面人类与财产关系的真正改变肯定要比任何伦理学要求更为有效；但是共产主义者对这一事实的认识，又因为对人类本性的一种理想主义的新的误读，而变得模糊不清、不切实际。

在我看来，试图在文化发展的现象中探索超我作用这种方法，还会有进一步的发现。我必须加紧结束本书的探索，可是还有一个问题是我几乎不能回避的。如果说文明的发展与个人的发展以同样的方式进行，且如此相似，那么难道我们没有理由做出如下的诊断吗——在文化要求的影响之下，某些文明或者文明的某些阶段，可能整个人类，都变成了“精神病”？对于这些精神病的分析性的解剖很可能带来治疗性的建议，这些建议将会具有重大意义。我不认为把精神分析转用于文化集体这种尝试是荒谬的，或者说肯定是徒劳的。但是，我们应当非常谨慎，并且不要忘记我们只是进行类比而已，无论是概念的类比还是与人类的类比，把它们从其所产生和演化的出发点强行拽出来都是危险的。再者，对集体的精神病诊断面临着一个特殊困难：在个人精神病例中，我们首先只需要把病人与假定的正常环境相比照，就能得到一点线索。而对于一个集体来说，因所有成员都患有同样的精神症状，因此不存在像个人精神病的可比照的背景环境，而必须从别处去寻找这样的背景。至于说把所获得的知识运用于治疗，由于谁也没有权力将这样一种治疗强加于集体，所以对社会精神病的最贴切的分析又有什么用呢？尽管存在这一切困难，我们仍希望有一天会有人敢于对文化集体做出病理探究。

出于种种原因，我根本无意对人类文明做出任何评价。我一直小心避免受到如下狂热偏见的影响，即认为我们的文明是我们所拥有的或者可能获得的最宝贵的事物，并且认为文明之路将把我们带领到我们迄今难以想象到的完美高度。我至少可以心平气和地倾听批评家的这样一种观点，他认为，考虑到文明努力的目标及其使用的方式，人们一定会得出这样的结论，即整个文明的努力不值得这样劳心费力，其结果只会导致个人注定无法忍受的状态。我在这些方面知识匮乏，因此更易做到不偏不倚。但有一件事我肯定知道，即人类的价值判断无疑会受到他的幸福愿望的引导，因此这些价值判断相当于努力用一些论据来支撑其幸福的幻想。如果有人指出人类文明具有必然性，并声称限制性生活、宣扬博爱的理想须以自然选择为代价，这是一种趋势，无法避免、无法偏离，我们最好是屈服这一趋势，就好像它是必然规律一样，那么我想我完全可以理解。另一方面，我也知道反对的观点是什么，即在人类的历史中，像这些我们认为难以实现的理想追求，常常是被抛到一边，而被其他追求所取代。因而，我不敢以先知的身份在我的同胞面前自居，我甘愿接受他们的指责，指责我不能给予他们任何慰藉：因为说到底，无论是最狂热的革命者还是最虔诚的信徒都一样，他们的根本需要都是安慰。

对我来说，人类的重大问题在于，其文明发展能否并在多大程度上控制住他们的攻击性和自我破坏本能对集体生活的干扰。从这方面看来，也许现在这个时代应该受到特别的注意。人类已经在很大程度上取得了对自然力量的控制，以致他们可以借助于自然的力量，毫不困难地进行自相残杀直到最后一个人。他们明白这一点，目前的不安、痛苦和焦虑的心情大部分就是由此产生的。现在我们期待着两个“天神”之一——永生的爱神厄洛斯，在与同样永生的对手死神的斗争中，能够坚持自己的地位。但谁又能预见结果又将如何呢？

————————————————————

[1] “因而良知确实使我们每个人都变成了懦夫……”今天年轻人所受的教育向他们掩盖了性欲将会在他们生活中所起的作用，但这并不是我们对这种教育的唯一谴责。这种教育的过错还在于，它没有使年轻人对他们注定会成为攻击性的对象有所准备。当教育用这样一种错误的心理导向把年轻人送入生活中时，就好像是给即将踏上极地考察征程的人们配备了一套夏装和一张意大利北部的湖泊地图。在这里很显然存在着对伦理道德要求的滥用。如果教育者们如此讲：这是人们为了自己和他人的幸福应该做的，但我们也应预计到人们可能不去这么做，那么这些道德要求的严厉性就不会那么有害了。但是相反，教育却使年轻人相信其他每个人都遵循这些道德戒律——每个人都具有德行。这也是为什么年轻人也应当具有德行的原因。

Sigmund Freud

Civilization and Its Discontents

TRANSLATED BY DAVID MCLINTOCK

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

1

It is impossible to resist the impression that people commonly apply false standards, seeking power, success and wealth for themselves and admiring them in others, while underrating what is truly valuable in life. Yet in passing such a general judgement one is in danger of forgetting the rich variety of the human world and its mental life. There are some individuals who are venerated by their contemporaries, but whose greatness rests on qualities and achievements that are quite foreign to the aims and ideals of the many. One may be inclined to suppose that these great men are appreciated after all only by a minority, while the great majority have no interest in them. However, it is probably not as simple as that, owing to the discrepancies between people's thoughts and actions and the diversity of their desires.

One of these outstanding men corresponds with me and in his letters calls himself my friend. I sent him a little piece of mine that treats religion as an illusion, and in his reply he said that he wholly agreed with my view of religion, but regretted that I had failed to appreciate the real source of religiosity. This was a particular feeling of which he himself was never free, which he had found confirmed by many others and which he assumed was shared by millions, a feeling that he was inclined to call a sense of 'eternity', a feeling of something limitless, unbounded–as it were 'oceanic'. This feeling was a purely subjective fact, not an article of faith; no assurance of personal immortality attached to it, but it was the source of the religious energy that was seized upon by the various churches and religious systems, directed into particular channels and certainly consumed by them. On the basis of this oceanic feeling alone one was entitled to call oneself religious, even if one rejected every belief and every illusion.

This opinion of my esteemed friend,[*] who himself once celebrated the magic of illusion in poetic form, caused me no small difficulty. I can discover no trace of this 'oceanic' feeling in myself. It is not easy to treat feelings scientifically. One may try to describe their physiological symptoms. Where this is not feasible–and I fear that the oceanic feeling will not lend itself to such a description–there is nothing left to do but to concentrate on the ideational content most readily associated with the feeling. If I have understood my friend correctly, what he has in mind is the same as the consolation that an original and rather eccentric writer offers his hero before his freely chosen death: 'We cannot fall out of this world.' It is a feeling, then, of being indissolubly bound up with and belonging to the whole of the world outside oneself. I would say that for me this is more in the nature of an intellectual insight, not of course without an emotional overtone, though this will not be wanting in other acts of thought that are similar in scope. Relying on my personal experience, I should not be able to convince myself of the primary nature of such a feeling. But this does not entitle me to dispute its actual occurrence in others. The only question is whether it is correctly interpreted and whether it should be acknowledged as the fans et origo of all religious needs.

I have nothing to suggest that would decisively con tribute to the solution of this problem. The idea that a person should be informed of his connection with the world around him through an immediate feeling that is used for this purpose from the beginning sounds so bizarre, and fits so badly into the fabric of our psychology, that we are justified in looking for a psychoanalytic–that is to say a genetic–derivation of such a feeling. The following train of thought then suggests itself. Normally we are sure of nothing so much as a sense of self, of our own ego. This ego appears to us autonomous, uniform and deafly set off against everything else. It was psychoanalytic research that first taught us that this was a delusion, that in fact the ego extends inwards, with no clear boundary, into an unconscious psychical entity that we call the id, and for which it serves, so to speak, as a façade. And psychoanalysis still has much to tell us about the relation of the ego to the id. Yet externally at least the ego seems to be clearly and sharply delineated. There is only one condition–admittedly an unusual one, though it cannot be dismissed as pathological–in which this is no longer so. At the height of erotic passion the borderline between ego and object is in danger of becoming blurred. Against all the evidence of the senses, the person in love asserts that 'T' and 'you' are one and is ready to behave as if this were so. What can be temporarily interrupted by a physiological function must of course be capable of being disturbed by morbid processes also. Pathology acquaints us with a great many conditions in which the boundary between the ego and the external world becomes uncertain or the borderlines are actually wrongly drawn. There are cases in which parts of a person's own body, indeed parts of his mental life–perceptions, thoughts, feelings–seem alien, divorced from the ego, and others in which he attributes to the external world what has deafly arisen in the ego and ought to be recognized by it. Hence, even the sense of self is subject to disturbances, and the limits of the self are not constant.

A further consideration tells us that the adult's sense of self cannot have been the same from the beginning. It must have undergone a process of development, which understandably cannot be demonstrated, though it can be reconstructed with a fair degree of probability. The new-born child does not at first separate his ego from an outside world that is the source of the feelings flowing towards him. He gradually learns to do this, prompted by various stimuli. It must make the strongest impression on him that some sources of stimulation, which he will later recognize as his own physical organs, can convey sensations to him at any time, while other things–including what he most craves, his mother's breast–are temporarily removed from him and can be summoned back only by a cry for help. In this way the ego is for the first time confronted with an 'object', something that exists 'out there' and can be forced to manifest itself only through a particular action. A further incentive to detach the ego from the mass of sensations, and so to recognize a 'world outside', is provided by the frequent, multifarious and unavoidable feelings of pain (or absence of pleasure), whose termination and avoidance is required by the absolute pleasure principle. A tendency arises to detach from the ego anything that may give rise to such un pleasurable experience, to expel it and so create an ego that is oriented solely towards pleasure and confronts an alien and menacing world outside. The limits of this primitive pleasure-oriented ego are inevitably corrected by experience. After all, some of the things that give us pleasure and that we are loath to forgo belong not to the ego, but to the object, and some of the torments that we wish to expel prove to be of internal origin and inseparable from the ego. We learn how to distinguish between the internal, which belongs to the ego, and the external, which comes from the world outside, through deliberate control of our sensory activity and appropriate muscular action. This is the first step towards establishing the reality principle, which will govern subsequent developments. The distinction between the internal and the external naturally serves a practical purpose, in that it provides protection against unpleasurable experiences and the threat of them. The fact that the ego employs exactly the same methods to expel certain unpleasurable sensations from within as it does to repel others from without becomes the starting point for significant pathological disorders.

In this way, then, the ego detaches itself from the external world. Or, to put it more correctly, the ego is originally all-inclusive, but later it separates off an external world from itself. Our present sense of self is thus only a shrunken residue of a far more comprehensive, indeed all-embracing feeling, which corresponded to a more intimate bond between the ego and the world around it. If we may assume that this primary sense of self has survived, to a greater or lesser extent, in the mental life of many people, it would coexist, as a kind of counterpart, with the narrower, more sharply defined sense of self belonging to the years of maturity, and the ideational content appropriate to it would be precisely those notions of limitlessness and oneness with the universe–the very notions used by my friend to elucidate the 'oceanic' feeling. But have we any right to assume that what was originally present has survived beside what later evolved from it?

Undoubtedly! There is nothing surprising about such an occurrence, either in the mental sphere or in other spheres. Regarding the animal world, we adhere to the hypothesis that the most highly developed species have evolved from the lowest. Yet we find all the simple forms of life still existing today. The race of the great saurians has become extinct and made way for the mammals, but a genuine representative of this race, the crocodile, is still with us. The analogy may be too remote, and it is weakened by the fact that as a rule the lower species that survive are not the true ancestors of the more highly developed species of today. The intermediate stages have mostly died out and are known to us only through reconstructions. In the realm of the mind, however, the retention of the primitive beside what has evolved from it is so common that there is no need to cite examples to prove it. When this happens it is mostly the result of divergent developments. One portion (in quantitative terms) of an attitude, of an instinctual impulse, has remained unchanged, while another has developed further.

This brings us up against the more general problem of retention in the psychical sphere, which has so far hardly been studied, but is so fascinating and significant that we may perhaps be permitted, though not for any adequate reason, to dwell on it for a while. Having overcome the error of thinking that our frequent forgetfulness amounts to the destruction of the trace left by memory and therefore to an act of annihilation, we now tend towards the opposite presumption–that, in mental life, nothing that has once taken shape can be lost, that everything is somehow preserved and can be retrieved under the right circumstances–for instance, through a sufficiently long regression. Let us try to understand, with the help of an analogy from another field, what this presumption implies. As an example let us take the development of the Eternal City. Historians tell us that in the earliest times Rome was Roma quadrata, an enclosed settlement on the Palatine Hill. The next phase was the Septimontium, a union of the settlements on the separate hills. After this it was the city bounded by the Servian Wall, and still later, after all the vicissitudes of the republican and the early imperial age, the city that the emperor Aurelian enclosed within his walls. We will not pursue the further transformations undergone by the city, but we cannot help wondering what traces of these early stages can still be found by a modern visitor to Rome–whom we will credit with the best historical and topographical knowledge. He will see Aureliah's wall virtually unchanged, save for a few gaps. Here and there he will find stretches of the Servian wall that have been revealed by excavations. Because he commands enough knowledge–more than today's archaeologists–to be able to trace the whole course of this wall and enter the outlines of Roma quadrata in a modem city plan. Of the buildings that once occupied this ancient framework he will find nothing, or only scant remains, for they no longer exist. An extensive knowledge of the Roman republic might at most enable him to say where the temples and public buildings of that period once stood. Their sites are now occupied by ruins–not of the original buildings, but of various buildings that replaced them after they burnt down or were destroyed. One need hardly add that all these remnants of ancient Rome appear as scattered fragments in the jumble of the great city that has grown up in recent centuries, since the Renaissance. True, much of the old is still there, but buried under modem buildings. This is how the past survives in historic places like Rome.

Now, let us make the fantastic assumption that Rome is not a place where people live, but a psychical entity with a similarly long, rich past, in which nothing that ever took shape has passed away, and in which all previous phases of development exist beside the most recent. For Rome this would mean that on the Palatine hill the imperial palaces and the Septizonium of Septimius Severus still rose to their original height, that the castle of San Angelo still bore on its battlements the fine statues that adorned it until the Gothic siege. Moreover, the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus would once more stand on the site of the Palazzo Caffarelli, without there being any need to dismantle the latter structure, and indeed the temple would be seen not only in its later form, which it assumed during the imperial age, but also in its earliest, when it still had Etruscan elements and was decorated with terracotta antefixes. And where the Coliseo now stands we could admire the vanished Domus Aurea of Nero; on the Piazza of the Pantheon we should find not only the present Pantheon, be queathed by Hadrian, but the original structure of M. Agrippa; indeed, occupying the same ground would be the church of Maria sopra Minerva and the ancient temple over which it is built. And the observer would perhaps need only to shift his gaze or his position in order to see the one or the other.

It is clearly pointless to spin out this fantasy any further: the result would be unimaginable, indeed absurd. If we wish to represent a historical sequence in spatial terms, we can do so only by juxtaposition in space, for the same space cannot accommodate two different things. Our attempt to do otherwise seems like an idle game; its sole justification is to show how far we are from being able to illustrate the peculiarities of mental life by visual means.

There is one objection that we must try to answer. Why did we choose to compare the past of a city with the psychical past? Even where the life of the psyche is concerned, the assumption that everything past survives is valid only if the mind has remained intact and its fabric has not suffered from trauma or inflammation. However, destructive factors that might be compared with such causes of disease, are not absent from the history of any city, even if it has had a less turbulent past than Rome or, like London, hardly ever been ravaged by an enemy. Even the most peaceful urban development entails the demolition and replacement of buildings, and so for this reason no city can properly be compared with a psychical organism.

We readily yield to this objection and, forgoing any striking contrast, turn to a more closely related object of comparison, the animal or human body. But here too we find the same phenomena. The earlier phases of development are not preserved at all, having been absorbed into the later ones, for which they supplied the material. The embryo cannot be discovered in the adult; the thymus gland of the child is replaced after puberty by connective tissue, but no longer exists as such; in the adults marrow-bone I can admittedly trace the outline of the child's bone, but this has disappeared through stretching and thickening before taking on its final form. The fact remains that the retention of all previous stages, together with the final shape, is possible only in the mind, and that we are not in a position to illustrate this phenomenon by means of any parallel.

Perhaps we go too far in making this assumption. Perhaps we should be content to say that the past may be retained in the life of the psyche and need not be destroyed. It may be that even in the psychical sphere some things that are old are so obscured or consumed in the normal way of things, or in exceptional circumstances–that there is no longer any way of restoring and reviving them, or that their retention is linked to certain favourable conditions. This may be so, but we have no way of knowing. All we can do is hold on to the fact that in mental life the retention of the past is the rule, rather than a surprising exception.

Hence, if we are prepared to acknowledge that an 'oceanic' feeling exists in many human beings and inclined to trace it back to an early phase of the sense of self, a further question arises: what claim has this feeling to be regarded as the source of religious needs?

I do not find such a claim compelling. After all, a feeling can be a source of energy only if it is itself the expression of a strong need. To me the derivation of religious needs from the helplessness of the child and a longing for its father seems irrefutable, especially as this feeling is not only prolonged from the days of childhood, but constantly sustained by a fear of the superior power of fate. I cannot cite any childish need that is as strong as the need for paternal protection. The role of the oceanic feeling, which might seek to restore unlimited narcissism, is thus pushed out of the foreground. The origin of the religious temperament can be traced in clear outline to the child's feeling of helplessness. Some thing else may be concealed behind it, but for the time being this remains obscure.

I can imagine that the oceanic feeling subsequently became connected with religion. Being at one with the universe, which is the intellectual content associated with this feeling, strikes us as an initial attempt at religious consolation, as another way of denying the danger that the ego perceives as a threat from the outside world. I must confess yet again that I find it very hard to work with these almost intangible concepts. Another of my friends, whose insatiable thirst for knowledge has driven him to conduct the most extraordinary experiments and finally made him virtually omniscient, has assured me that in practising yoga one can actually arouse new sensations and universal feelings in oneself by turning away from the outside world, by fixing one's attention on bodily functions, and by breathing in special ways. Such sensations and feelings he would interpret as regressions to ancient conditions in the life of the psyche that have long been overlaid. He sees in them a physiological justification, so to speak, for much of the wisdom of mysticism. This would suggest connections with many obscure psychical states such as trance and ecstasy. Yet I cannot help exclaiming, with the diver in Schiller's ballad:

Es freue sich, wer da atmet im rosigen Licht.

[Let him rejoice, whoever draws breath in the roseate light!]

————————————————————

* Romain Rolland.

2

In my piece entitled 'The Future of an Illusion' I was much less concerned with the most profound sources of religious sentiment than with what the common man understands by his religion, the system of teachings and promises that on the one hand explains to him, with enviable thoroughness, the riddles of this world, and on the other assures him that a careful providence will watch over his life and compensate him in a future existence for any privations he suffers in this. The common man cannot imagine this providence otherwise than as an immensely exalted father. Only such a being can know the needs of the children of men, be softened by their pleas and propitiated by signs of their remorse. All this is so patently infantile, so remote from reality, that it pains a philanthropic temperament to think that the great majority of mortals will never be able to rise above such a view of life. It is still more embarrassing to learn how many of those living today, who cannot help seeing that this religion is untenable, nevertheless seek to defend it, bit by bit, in pathetic rearguard actions. One would like to mingle with the believers, in order to confront those philosophers who think they can rescue the God of religion by replacing him with an impersonal, shadowy, abstract principle, and to remind them of the commandment: 'Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.' If some of the greatest spirits of the past did the same, we cannot appeal to their example here, for we know why they had to.

Let us return to the common man and his religion, the only one that deserves the name. The first thing that occurs to us is the well-known remark by one of our great poets and thinkers, which describes how religion relates to art and science:

Wet Wissenschafi und Kunst besitzt,

hat auch Religion;

Wer jene belden nicht besitzt,

der babe Religion!

[Whoever possesses science and art also has religion; whoever possesses neither of these, let him have religion!]

On the one hand these lines contrast religion with man's two highest achievements; on the other they state that, when it comes to the value they have in our lives, they can represent or stand in for one another. Even if we wish to deny the common man's claim to religion, we clearly lack the authority of the poet. We will try to get closer to an appreciation of his proposition by adopting a special approach. The life imposed on us is too hard for us to bear: it brings too much pain, too many disappointments, too many insoluble problems. If we are to endure it, we cannot do without palliative measures. (As Theodor Fontane told us, it is impossible without additional help.) Of such measures there are perhaps three kinds: powerful distractions, which cause us to make light of our misery, substitutive satisfactions, which diminish it, and intoxicants, which anaesthetize us to it. Something of this sort is indispensable.[*] Voltaire has distractions in mind when he ends his Candide with the advice that one should cultivate one's garden; another such distraction is scholarly activity. Substitutive satisfactions, such as art affords, are illusions that contrast with reality, but they are not, for this reason, any less effective psychically, thanks to the role that the imagination has assumed in mental life. Intoxicants affect our physical constitution and alter its chemistry. It is not easy to define the position that religion occupies in this series. We shall have to approach the matter from a greater distance.

The question of the purpose of human life has been posed innumerable times; it has not yet received a satisfactory answer and perhaps does not admit of one. Some of those who have posed it have added that if life should turn out to have no purpose, it would lose my value it had for them. Yet this threat alters nothing. Rather, it seems that one is entitled to dismiss the question. The threat appears to rest upon the very human presumption of which we have so many other instances. No one talks about the purpose of the life of animals, unless it is that they are meant to serve human beings. Yet this too is untenable, for there are many animals that man can do nothing with–except describe, classify and study them–and countless animal species have escaped even this use by living and dying out before man set eyes on them.

Again, only religion has an answer to the question of the purpose of life. It can hardly be wrong to conclude that the notion that life has a purpose stands or falls with the religious system.

We will therefore turn now to the more modest question of what human beings themselves reveal, through their behaviour, about the aim and purpose of their lives, what they demand of life and wish to achieve in it. The answer can scarcely be in doubt: they strive for happiness, they want to become happy and remain so. This striving has two goals, one negative and one positive: on the one hand it aims at an absence of pain and unpleasurable experiences, on the other at strong feelings of pleasure. 'Happiness', in the strict sense of the word, relates only to the latter. In conformity with this dichotomy in its aims, human activity develops in two directions, according to whether it seeks to realize–mainly or even exclusively–the one or the other of these aims.

As we see, it is simply the programme of the pleasure principle that determines the purpose of life. This principle governs the functioning of our mental apparatus from the start; there can be no doubt about its efficacy, and yet its programme is at odds with the whole world–with the macrocosm as much as with the microcosm. It is quite incapable of being realized; all the institutions of the universe are opposed to it; one is inclined to say that the intention that man should be 'happy' has no part in the plan of 'creation'. What we call happiness, in the strictest sense of the word, arises from the fairly sudden satisfaction of pent-up needs. By its very nature it can be no more than an episodic phenomenon. Any prolongation of a situation desired by the pleasure principle produces only a feeling of lukewarm comfort; we are so constituted that we can gain intense pleasure only from the contrast, and only very little from the condition itself.[*] Hence, our prospects of happiness are already restricted by our constitution. Unhappiness is much less difficult to experience. Suffering threatens us from three sides: from our own body, which, being doomed to decay and dissolution, cannot dispense with pain and anxiety as warning signals; from the external world, which can unleash overwhelming, implacable, destructive forces against us; and finally from our relations with others. The suffering that arises from this last source perhaps causes us more pain than any other; we are inclined to regard it as a somewhat superfluous extra, though it is probably no less ineluctable than suffering that originates elsewhere.

It is no wonder that, under the pressure of these possibilities of suffering, people are used to tempering their claim to happiness, just as the pleasure principle itself has been transformed, under the influence of the external world, into the more modest 'reality principle'; that one counts oneself lucky to have escaped unhappiness and survived suffering; and that in general the task of avoiding suffering pushes that of obtaining pleasure into the background. Reflection teaches us that we can try to perform this task by following very different paths; all these paths have been recommended by various schools of worldly wisdom and trodden by human beings. Unrestricted satisfaction of all our needs presents itself as the most enticing way to conduct one's life, but it means putting enjoyment before caution, and that soon brings its own punishment. The other methods, which aim chiefly at the avoidance of unpleasurable experience, differ according to which source of such experience is accorded most attention. Some of them are extreme and others moderate; some are one-sided, and some tackle the problem at several points simultaneously. Deliberate isolation, keeping others at arm's length, affords the most obvious protection against any suffering arising from interpersonal relations. One sees that the happiness that can be attained in this way is the happiness that comes from peace and quiet. Against the dreaded external world one can defend oneself only by somehow turning away from it, if one wants to solve the problem unaided. There is of course another, better path: as a member of the human community one can go on the attack against nature with the help of applied science, and subject her to the human will. One is then working with everyone for the happiness of all. The most interesting methods of preventing suffering are those that seek to influence one's own constitution. Ultimately, all suffering is merely feeling; it exists only in so far as we feel it, and we feel it only because our constitution is regulated in certain ways.

The crudest, but also the most effective method of influencing our constitution is the chemical one–intoxication. No one, I think, fully understands how it works, but it is a fact that there are exogenous substances whose presence in the blood and tissues causes us direct feelings of pleasure, but also alters the determinants of our sensibility in such a way that we are no longer susceptible to unpleasurable sensations. Both effects not only occur simultaneously: they also seem closely linked. However, there must also be substances in the chemistry of our bodies that act in a similar way, for we know of at least one morbid condition–mania–in which a condition similar to intoxication occurs, without the introduction of any intoxicant. Moreover, in our normal mental life there are oscillations between fairly easy releases of pleasure and others that are harder to come by, and these run parallel to a lesser or a greater susceptibility to unpleasurabte feelings. It is much to be regretted that this toxic aspect of mental processes has so far escaped scientific investigation. The effect of intoxicants in the struggle for happiness and in keeping misery at a distance is seen as so great a boon that not only individuals, but whole nations, have accorded them a firm place in the economy of the libido. We owe to them not only a direct yield of pleasure, but a fervently desired degree of independence from the external world. We know, after all, that by 'drowning our sorrows' we can escape at any time from the pressure of reality and find refuge in a world of our own that affords us better conditions for our sensibility. It is well known that precisely this property of intoxicants makes them dangerous and harmful. In some circumstances they are responsible for the futile loss of large amounts of energy that might have been used to improve the lot of mankind.

The complicated structure of our mental apparatus, however, admits of a good many other influences too. Just as the satisfaction of the drives spells happiness, so it is a cause of great suffering if the external world forces us to go without and refuses to satisfy our needs. One can therefore hope to free oneself of part of one's suffering by influencing these instinctual impulses. This kind of defence against suffering is no longer brought to bear upon the sensory apparatus; it seeks to control the inner sources of our needs. In extreme cases this is done by stifling the drives in the manner prescribed by the wisdom of the east and put into effect in the practice of yoga. If it succeeds, one has admittedly given up all other activity too–indeed, sacrificed one's life–only to arrive, by a different route, at the happiness that comes from peace and quiet. We follow the same route when our aims are less extreme and we seek merely to control our drives. Control is then exercised by the higher psychical authorities, which have subjected themselves to the reality principle. At the same time the aim of satisfaction is by no means abandoned; a certain protection against suffering is obtained, in that failure to satisfy the drives causes less pain if they are kept in thrall than if they are wholly uninhibited. All the same, the possibilities of pleasure are undeniably diminished. The feeling of happiness resulting from the satisfaction of a wild instinctual impulse that has not been tamed by the ego is incomparably more intense than that occasioned by the sating of one that has been tamed. Here we have an economic explanation for the irresistibility of perverse impulses, perhaps for the attraction of whatever is forbidden.

Another technique for avoiding suffering makes use of the displacements of the libido that are permitted by our psychical apparatus and lend its functioning so much flexibility. Here the task is to displace the aims of the drives in such a way that they cannot be frustrated by the external world. Sublimation of the drives plays a part in this. We achieve most if we can sufficiently heighten the pleasure derived from mental and intellectual work. Fate can then do little to harm us. This kind of satisfaction–the artist's joy in creating, in fashioning forth the products of his imagination, or the scientist's in solving problems and discovering truths–has a special quality that it will undoubtedly be possible, one day, to describe in metapsychological terms. At present we can only say, figuratively, that they seem to us 'finer and higher', but their intensity is restrained when compared with that which results from the sating of crude, primary drives: they do not convulse our physical constitution. The weakness of this method, however, lies in the fact that it cannot be employed universally, as it is accessible only to the few. It presupposes special aptitudes and gifts that are not exactly common, not common enough to be effective. And even to the few it cannot afford complete protection against suffering; it does not supply them with an armour that is proof against the slings and arrows of fortune, and it habitually fails when one's own body becomes the source of the suffering.[*]

It is already clear, in the case of this last method, that the purpose is to make oneself independent of the external world by seeking satisfaction in internal, psychical processes, but in the next one the same features are brought out even more strongly. Here the link with reality is loosened still further; satisfaction is derived from illusions, which one recognizes as such without letting their deviation from reality interfere with one's enjoyment. The sphere in which these illusions originate is the life of the imagination, which at one time, when the sense of reality developed, was expressly exempted from the requirements of the reality test and remained destined to fulfil desires that were hard to realize. Fore most among the satisfactions we owe to the imagination is the enjoyment of works of art; this is made accessible, even to those who are not themselves creative, through the mediation of the artist. It is impossible for anyone who is receptive to the influence of art to rate it too highly as a source of pleasure and consolation in life. Yet the mild narcosis that art induces in us can free us only temporarily from the hardships of life; it is not strong enough to make us forget real misery.

Another method, which operates more energetically and more thoroughly, sees reality as the sole enemy, the source of all suffering, something one cannot live with, and with which one must therefore sever all links if one wants to be happy, in any sense of the word. The hermit turns his back on the world and refuses to have anything to do with it. But one can do more than this: one can try to recreate the world, to build another in its place, one in which the most intolerable features are eliminated and replaced by others that accord with one's desires. As a rule anyone who takes this path to happiness, in a spirit of desperate rebellion, will achieve nothing. Reality is too strong for him. He will become a madman and will usually find nobody to help him realize his delusion. It is asserted, however, that in some way each of us behaves rather like a paranoiac, employing wishful thinking to correct some unendurable aspect of the world and introducing this delusion into reality. Of special importance is the case in which substantial numbers of people, acting in concert, try to assure themselves of happiness and protection against suffering through a delusional reshaping of reality. The religions of mankind too must be described as examples of mass delusion. Of course, no one who still shares a delusion will ever recognize it as such.

This is not, I think, a complete list of the methods that human beings employ in trying to gain happiness and keep suffering at bay, and I am aware that the material can be arranged differently. There is one method that I have not yet mentioned–not because I have forgotten it, but because it will concern us later in another context. How could one possibly forget this particular technique in the art of living? It is distinguished by the most curious mixture of characteristics. Naturally it seeks independence from what may best be called fate, and to this end it transfers satisfaction to internal mental processes and makes use of the facility for libidinal displacement that has already been mentioned. But it does not turn away from the external world: on the contrary, it clings to the things of this world and obtains happiness through an emotional attachment to them. Nor is it content with the avoidance of unpleasurable experience, a goal that derives, as it were, from tired resignation; indeed, it bypasses this goal, pays no attention to it, and adheres to the original, passionate striving for the positive achievement of happiness. Perhaps it actually gets closer to this goal than any other method. I am referring of course to the way of life that places love at the centre of everything and expects all satisfaction to come from loving and being loved. This kind of mental attitude comes naturally enough to us all; one manifestation of love, sexual love, has afforded us the most potent experience of overwhelming pleasure and thereby set a pattern for our quest for happiness. What is more natural than that we should go on seeking happiness on the path where we first encountered it? The weakness of this technique of living is obvious; if it were not, nobody would have thought of abandoning this route to happiness in favour of another. We never have so little protection against suffering as when we are in love; we are never so desolate as when we have lost the object of our love or its love for us. But this is not the last word on this particular technique of living, which is based on the value of love as a means of happiness: there is much more to be said about it.

Here one can bring in the interesting case in which happiness in life is sought mainly in the enjoyment of beauty, wherever it presents itself to our senses and our judgement–the beauty of human forms and gestures, of natural objects and landscapes, of artistic and even scientific creations. This aesthetic approach to the purpose of life affords little protection against the sufferings that threaten us, but it can make up for much. The enjoyment of beauty has a special quality of feeling that is mildly intoxicating. Beauty has no obvious use, nor is it easy to see why it is necessary to civilization; yet civilization would be unthinkable without it. The science of aesthetics investigates the conditions under which the beautiful is apprehended; it has not been able to clarify the nature and origin of beauty; as commonly happens, the absence of results is shrouded in a wealth of high sounding, empty verbiage. Unfortunately psychoanalysis too has scarcely anything to say about beauty. All that seems certain is its origin in the sphere of sexual feeling; it would be an ideal example of an aim-inhibited impulse. 'Beauty' and 'attractiveness' are originally properties of the sexual object. It is notable that the genitals themselves, the sight of which is always exciting, are hardly ever judged beautiful; on the other hand, the quality of beauty seems to attach to certain secondary sexual characteristics.

Despite the incompleteness of my presentation, I venture to offer, even at this early stage, a few remarks to round off our present enquiry. The programme for attaining happiness, imposed on us by the pleasure principle, cannot be fully realized, but we must not–indeed cannot–abandon our efforts to bring its realization somehow closer. To reach this goal we may take very different routes and give priority to one or the other of two aims: the positive aim of gaining pleasure or the negative one of avoiding its opposite. On neither route can we attain all we desire. Happiness, in the reduced sense in which it is acknowledged to be possible, is a problem concerning the economy of the individual libido. There is no advice that would be beneficial to all; everyone must discover for himself how he can achieve salvation. The most varied factors will come into play and direct his choice. It is a question of how much real satisfaction he can expect from the external world, how far he is led to make himself independent of it, and, finally, how much strength he feels he has to change it in accordance with his wishes. Apart from the external conditions, what will be decisive here is the individuals mental constitution. The predominantly erotic person will give priority to his emotional relations with others; the narcissistic person, being more self-sufficient, will seek the most important satisfactions in his own internal mental processes; the man of action will not give up contact with the external world, on which he can test his strength. For the second of these types the nature of his gifts and the extent to which he is able to sublimate his drives will determine where he should lodge his interests. Any extreme decision will be penalized, in that it will expose the individual to the dangers that arise if he has chosen one technique of living to the exclusion of others. Just as the prudent merchant avoids tying up all his capital in one place, so worldly wisdom will perhaps advise us not to expect all our satisfaction to come from one endeavour. Success is never certain; it depends on the coincidence of many factors, and perhaps on none more than the capacity of our psychical constitution to adapt its functioning to the environment and to exploit the latter for the attainment of pleasure. Any one who has been born with a particularly unfavourable instinctual constitution and who has not properly under gone the transformation and reordering of the components of his libido–a process that is indispensable for later achievements–will find it hard to derive happiness from his external situation, especially if he is faced with fairly difficult tasks. As a last technique for living, which at least promises him substitutive satisfactions, he may take refuge in neurotic illness; this usually happens early in life. Anyone who sees his quest for happiness frustrated in later years can still find consolation in the pleasure gained from chronic intoxication, or make a desperate attempt at rebellion and become psychotic.[*]

Religion interferes with this play of selection and adaptation by forcing on everyone indiscriminately its own path to the attainment of happiness and protection from suffering. Its technique consists in reducing the value of life and distorting the picture of the real world by means of delusion; and this presupposes the intimidation of the intelligence. At this price, by forcibly fixing human beings in a state of psychical infantilism and drawing them into a mass delusion, religion succeeds in saving many of them from individual neurosis. But it hardly does any more; there are, as we have said, many paths that can lead to such happiness as is within the reach of human beings, but none that is certain to do so. Not even religion can keep its promise. If the believer is finally obliged to speak of God's 'inscrutable decrees', he is admitting that all he has left to him, as the ultimate consolation and source of pleasure in the midst of suffering, is unconditional submission. And if he is ready to accept this he could probably have spared himself the detour.

————————————————————

* On a more basic level Wilhelm Busch says the same in Die Fromme Helene: 'Whoever has cares has liquor too.'

* Goethe even reminds us: 'Everything in the world can be endured, except a succession of fine days.' However, this may be an exaggeration.

* Unless a special aptitude dictates the direction that a person's interest in life is to take, the ordinary professional work available to everyone can occupy the place assigned to it by Voltaire's wise advice. Within the scope of a short survey it is not possible to pay sufficient attention to the vital role of work in the economy of the libido. No other technique for the conduct of life binds the individual so firmly to reality as an emphasis on work, which at least gives him a secure place in one area of reality, the human community. The possibility of shifting a large number of libidinal components–narcissistic, aggressive, even erotic – towards professional work and the human relations connected with it lends it a value that is in no way inferior to the indispensable part it plays in asserting and justifying a person's existence in society. Special satisfaction comes from professional activity when this is freely chosen and therefore makes possible the use, through sublimation, of existing inclinations, of continued or constitutionally reinforced instinctual impulses. And yet people show scant regard for work as a path to happiness. They do not strive after it as they do after other possibilities of satisfaction. The great majority work only because they have to, and this aversion to work is the source of the most difficult social problems.

* I feel impelled to point out at least one of the gaps that have remained in the presentation given above. No consideration of the possibilities of human happiness should fail to take into account the relation between narcissism and object libido. We need to know what being essentially reliant on our own resources means for the economy of the libido.

3

Our study of happiness has so far taught us little that is not generally known. Even if we go on to ask why it is so difficult for people to be happy, the prospect of learning something new seems little better. We have already answered this question by pointing to the three sources of our suffering: the superior power of nature, the frailty of our bodies, and the inadequacy of the institutions that regulate people's relations with one another in the family, the state and society. Regarding the first two, our judgement cannot vacillate for long: it obliges us to acknowledge these sources of suffering and submit to the inevitable. We shall never wholly control nature; our constitution, itself part of this nature, will always remain a transient structure, with a limited capacity for adaptation and achievement. Recognition of this fact does not have a paralysing effect on us; on the contrary, it gives direction to our activity. Even if we cannot put an end to all suffering, we can remove or alleviate some of it; the experience of thousands of years has convinced us of this. Our attitude to the third source of suffering, the social source, is different. We refuse to recognize it at all; we cannot see why institutions that we ourselves have created should not protect and benefit us all. However, when we consider how unsuccessful we have been at preventing suffering in this very sphere, the suspicion arises that here too an element of unconquerable nature may be at work in the background–this time our own psyche.

When considering this possibility, we come up against a contention which is so astonishing that we will dwell on it for a while. It is contended that much of the blame for our misery lies with what we call our civilization, and that we should be far happier if we were to abandon it and revert to primitive conditions. I say this is astonishing because, however one defines the concept of civilization, it is certain that all the means we use in our attempts to protect ourselves against the threat of suffering belong to this very civilization.

By what route have so many people arrived at this strange attitude of hostility to civilization? I think a deep, long-standing dissatisfaction with the state of civilization at any given time prepared the ground on which a condemnation of it grew up owing to particular historical causes. I think I can identify the last two of these; I am not sufficiently erudite to trace the causal chain back far enough into the history of the human race. Some such hostility to civilization must have been involved already in the victory of Christianity over paganism. After all, this hostility was very close to the devaluation of earthly life that came about through Christian teaching. The penultimate cause arose when voyages of discovery brought us into contact with primitive peoples and tribes. Owing to inadequate observation and the misinterpretation of their manners and customs, they appeared to the Europeans to lead a simple, happy life, involving few needs, which was beyond the reach of their culturally superior visitors. Subsequent experience has corrected several such judgements; the fact that these peoples found life so much easier was mistakenly ascribed to the absence of complicated cultural requirements, when in fact it was due to nature's bounty and the ease with which their major needs could be satisfied. The final cause is particularly familiar to us; it arose when we became acquainted with the mechanism of the neuroses that threaten to undermine the modicum of happiness enjoyed by civilized man. It was discovered that people became neurotic because they could not endure the degree of privation that society imposed on them in the service of its cultural ideals, and it was inferred that a suspension or a substantial reduction of its demands would mean a return to possibilities of happiness.

There is an added factor of disappointment. In recent generations the human race has made extraordinary advances in the natural sciences and their technical application, and it has increased its control over nature in a way that would previously have been unimaginable. The details of these advances are generally known and need not be enumerated. Human beings are proud of these achievements, and rightly so. Yet they believe they have observed that this newly won mastery over space and time, this subjugation of the forces of nature–the fulfilment of an age-old longing–has not increased the amount of pleasure they can expect from life or made them feel any happier. We ought to be content to infer from this observation that power over nature is not the sole condition of human happiness, just as it is not the sole aim of cultural endeavours, rather than to conclude that technical progress is of no value in the economy of our happiness. By way of objection it might be asked whether it is not a positive addition to my pleasure, an unequivocal increment of my happiness, if I can hear, as often as I wish, the voice of the child who lives hundreds of miles away, or if a friend can inform me, shortly after reaching land, that he has survived his long and arduous voyage. Is it of no importance that medicine has succeeded in significantly reducing infant mortality and the risk of infection to women in childbirth, and in adding a good many years to the average life-span of civilized man? We can cite many such benefits that we owe to the much-despised era of scientific and technical advances. At this point, however, the voice of pessimistic criticism makes itself heard, reminding us that most of these satisfactions follow the pattern of the 'cheap pleasure' recommended in a certain joke, a pleasure that one can enjoy by sticking a bare leg out from under the covers on a cold winter's night, then pulling it back in. If there were no railway to overcome distances, my child would never have left his home town, and I should not need the telephone in order to hear his voice. If there were no sea travel, my friend would not have embarked on his voyage, and I should not need the telegraph service in order to allay my anxiety about him. What is the good of the reduction of infant mortality if it forces us to practise extreme restraint in the procreation of children, with the result that on the whole we rear no more children than we did before hygiene became all important, but have imposed restraints on sexual life within marriage and probably worked against the benefits of natural selection? And finally, what good is a long life to us if it is hard, joyless and so full of suffering that we can only welcome death as a deliverer?

It seems certain that we do not feel comfortable in our present civilization, but it is very hard to form a judgement as to whether and to what extent people of an earlier age felt happier, and what part their cultural conditions played in the matter. We shall always tend to view misery objectively, that is to project ourselves, with all our demands and susceptibilities, into their conditions, and then try to determine what occasions for happiness or unhappiness we should find in them. This way of looking at things, which appears objective because it ignores the variations in subjective sensitivity, is of course the most subjective there can be, in that it substitutes our own mental state for all others, of which we know nothing. Happiness, however, is something altogether subjective. However much we recoil in horror when considering certain situations–that of the galley slave in ancient times, of the peasant in the Thirty Years War, of the victim of the Holy Inquisition, of the Jew waiting for the pogrom–it is none the less impossible for us to empathize with these people, to divine what changes the original insensitivity, the gradual diminution of sensitivity, the cessation of expectations, and cruder or more refined methods of narcotization have wrought in man's receptivity to pleasurable and unpleasurable feelings. In cases where there is a possibility of extreme suffering, certain protective psychical mechanisms are activated. It seems to me fruitless to pursue this aspect of the problem any further.

It is time to consider the essence of the civilization whose value for our happiness has been called into question. We will refrain from demanding a formula that captures this essence in a few words before we have learnt anything from our investigation. We will content our selves with repeating that the word 'civilization' designates the sum total of those achievements and institutions that distinguish our life from that of our animal ancestors and serve the dual purpose of protecting human beings against nature and regulating their mutual relations. In order to understand more, we will bring together the individual features of civilization as they manifest themselves in human communities. In doing so we have no hesitation in letting ourselves be guided by linguistic usage or, as some would say, a 'feeling for language', trusting that in this way we shall do justice to inner perceptions that still refuse to be expressed in abstract terms.

The first stage is easy: we recognize as belonging to civilization all activities and values that are useful to human beings, by making the earth serviceable to them, by protecting them against violent natural forces, and so forth. About this aspect of civilization there can be scarcely any doubt. If we go back far enough, we find that the first civilized activities were the use of tools, the taming of fire, and the building of dwellings. Among these, the taming of fire stands out as a quite extraordinary and unprecedented achievement;[*] with the others man struck out on paths that he has continued to follow ever since, the stimulus to which is not hard to guess. With all his tools man improves on his own organs, both motor and sensory, or clears away the barriers to their functioning. Engines place gigantic forces at his disposal, which he can direct, like his muscles, wherever he chooses; the ship and the aeroplane ensure that neither water nor air can hinder his movements. By means of spectacles he can correct the defects of his ocular lens; with the telescope he can see far into the distance; and with the microscope he can overcome the limits of visibility imposed by the structure of the retina. In the camera he has created an instrument that captures evanescent visual impressions, while the gramophone record does the same for equally fleeting auditory impressions; both are essentially materializations of his innate faculty of recall, of his memory With the help of the telephone he can hear sounds from distances that even the fairy tale would respect as inaccessible. Writing is in origin the language of the absent, the house a substitute for the womb–one's first dwelling place, probably still longed for, where one was safe and felt so comfortable.

What man, through his science and technology, has produced in this world, where he first appeared as a frail animal organism and where every individual of his species must still make his entry as a helpless babe–'oh inch of nature!'–all this not only sounds like a fairy tale, but actually fulfils all–no, most–fairytale wishes. All these assets he can claim as cultural acquisitions. Long ago he formed an ideal conception of omnipotence and omniscience, which he embodied in his gods, attributing to them whatever seemed beyond the reach of his desires–or was forbidden him. We may say, then, that these gods were cultural ideals. Man has now come close to reaching these ideals and almost become a god himself. Admittedly only in the way ideals are usually reached, according to the general judgement of humanity–not completely, in some respects not at all, in others only partly. Man has become, so to speak, a god with artificial limbs. He is quite impressive when he dons all his auxiliary organs, but they have not become part of him and still give him a good deal of trouble on occasion. However, he is entitled to console himself with the fact that this development will not have come to an end in AD 1930. Distant ages will bring new and probably unimaginable advances in this field of civilization and so enhance his god-like nature. But in the interest of our investigation let us also remember that modem man does not feel happy with his god-like nature.

We acknowledge, then, that a country has a high level of civilization if we find that in it everything that can assist man in his exploitation of the land and protect him against the forces of nature–everything, in short, that is of use to him–is attended to and properly ordered. In such countries, rivers that threaten to flood the land must have their courses regulated and their waters channelled to areas of drought. The soil must be carefully tilled and planted with crops that it is suited to support; the mineral wealth below ground must be diligently brought to the surface and used to make the necessary tools and implements. Means of transport must be frequent, fast and reliable. Dangerous wild beasts must be exterminated, and the breeding of domestic animals must flourish. But we have other demands to make on civilization and, remarkably, we hope to find them realized in the very same countries. As though we wished to repudiate our first demand, we also welcome it as a sign of civilization if people devote care to things that have no practical value whatever, that indeed appear useless–for instance, when the urban parks that are needed as playgrounds and reservoirs of fresh air also contain flowerbeds, or when the windows of the houses are adorned with pots of flowers. We soon realize that what we know to be useless, but expect civilization to value, is beauty; we demand that civilized man should revere beauty where he comes across it in nature and create it, if he can, through the work of his hands. Yet our claims on civilization are far from exhausted. We also demand evidence of cleanliness and order. We do not think highly of the civilization of an English country town in Shakespeare's day when we read that there was a large dunghill in front of the door of his father's house at Stratford. We are indignant and call it 'barbarous'–which is the opposite of 'civilized'–when we find the paths in the Vienna woods littered with discarded papers. Squalor of any kind seems to us incompatible with civilization, and we extend the demand for cleanliness to the human body too. We are amazed to read what a foul smell emanated from the person of the Roi Soleil, and we shake our heads when, on visiting Isola Bella, we are shown the tiny wash-basin that Napoleon used for his morning toilet. Indeed, we are not surprised if someone actually proposes the use of soap as a criterion of civilization. Much the same is true of order, which, like cleanliness, relates wholly to the work of man. But while we cannot expect cleanliness in nature, order is in fact copied from her; observation of the great astronomical regularities gave man not only the model for the introduction of order into his own life, but the first clues about how to do it. Order is a kind of compulsion to repeat, which, once a pattern is established, determines when, where and how something is to be done, so that there is no hesitation or vacillation in identical cases. The benefits of order are undeniable; it enables people to make the best use of space and time, while sparing their mental forces. One would be entitled to expect that it had established itself in human activities from the start and without any difficulty; and one may well be surprised that this is not so–that people show a natural tendency to be careless, irregular and unreliable in their work and must first be laboriously trained to imitate the celestial models.

Beauty, cleanliness and order plainly have a special place among the requirements of civilization. No one will maintain that they are as vitally important as control over the forces of nature and other factors that we shall become acquainted with later on, but neither will anyone wish to dismiss them as matters of minor importance. The fact that civilization is not concerned solely with utility is demonstrated by the example of beauty, which we insist on including among the interests of civilization. The usefulness of order is quite patent; as for cleanliness, we must bear in mind that it is also required by hygiene, and we may presume that people were not entirely unaware of this connection even before the age of scientific prophylaxis. Yet utility does not wholly explain the striving for cleanliness: something else must be involved too.

No feature, however, seems to us to characterize civilization better than the appreciation and cultivation of the higher mental activities, of intellectual, scientific and artistic achievements, and the leading role accorded to ideas in human life. Foremost among these ideas are the systems of religion, on whose complex structure I have tried to throw some light elsewhere; next come philosophical speculations, and finally what may be called human ideals, the notions, formed by human beings, of the possible perfection of the individual person, the nation and humanity as a whole, together with the demands they set up on the basis of such notions. The fact that these inventions are not independent of one another, but closely interwoven, increases the difficulty not only of describing them, but of establishing their psychological derivation. If we assume, quite generally, that the mainspring of all human activities is the striving for the two confluent goals of utility and the attainment of pleasure, we have to agree that this applies also to the manifestations of civilization that we have mentioned here, though it is easy to see only in the case of scientific and artistic activity. There can be no doubt, however, that the others also answer to powerful human needs, perhaps to needs that have developed only in a minority of people. Moreover, one must not allow oneself to be misled by value judgements regarding one or other of these religions, philosophical systems and ideals; one may think to find in them the highest achievement of the human spirit or deplore them as aberrations, but one has to acknowledge that their very existence, and especially their predominance, signifies a high level of civilization.

As the last and certainly not the least important characteristic of a civilization we have to consider how the mutual relations of human beings are regulated, the social relations that affect a person as a neighbour, employee or sexual object of another, as a member of a family or as a citizen of a state. Here it becomes particularly difficult to keep oneself free from certain ideal requirements and to grasp what pertains to civilization in general. Perhaps one may begin by declaring that the element of civilization is present as soon as the first attempt is made to regulate these social relations. If no such attempt were made, they would be subject to the arbitrary will of the individual; that is to say, whoever was physically stronger would dictate them in accordance with his interests and instinctual impulses. Nor would anything be changed if this strong individual came up against another who was even stronger. Communal life becomes possible only when a majority comes together that is stronger than any individual and presents a united front against every individual. The power of the community then pits itself, in the name of 'right', against the power of the individual, which is condemned as 'brute force'. The replacement of the power of the individual by that of the community is the decisive step towards civilization. Its essence lies in the fact that the members of the community restrict themselves in their scope for satisfaction; whereas the individual knew no such restriction. Hence, the next requirement of civilization is justice, that is the assurance that the legal order, once established, shall not be violated again in favour of an individual. This entails no judgement regarding the ethical value of such a system of law. The subsequent development of civilization seems to aim at a situation in which the law should no longer express the will of a small community–a caste, a social stratum or a tribe–that in its turn relates like a violent individual to other groups, which may be more comprehensive. The ultimate outcome should be a system of law to which all–or at least all those who qualify as members of the community–have contributed by partly forgoing the satisfaction of their drives, and which allows no one–again subject to the same qualification–to become a victim of brute force.

Individual liberty is not an asset of civilization. It was greatest before there was any civilization, though admittedly even then it was largely worthless, because the individual was hardly in a position to defend it. With the development of civilization it underwent restrictions, and justice requires that no one shall be spared these restrictions. Whatever makes itself felt in a human community as an urge for freedom may amount to a revolt against an existing injustice, thus favouring a further advance of civilization and remaining compatible with it. But it may spring from what remains of the original personality, still untamed by civilization, and so become a basis for hostility to civilization. The urge for freedom is thus directed against particular forms and claims of civilization, or against civilization as a whole. It does not seem as though any influence can induce human beings to change their nature and become like termites; they will probably always defend their claim to individual freedom against the will of the mass. Much of mankind's struggle is taken up with the task of finding a suitable, that is to say a happy accommodation, between the claims of the individual and the mass claims of civilization. One of the problems affecting the fate of mankind is whether such an accommodation can be achieved through a particular moulding of civilization or whether the conflict is irreconcilable.

By allowing common feeling to tell us what features of human life may count as civilized, we have gained a distinct impression or overall picture of civilization, though at first without learning anything that is not generally known. At the same time we have taken care not to concur with the prejudice that civilization is synonymous with a trend towards perfection, a path to perfection that is pre-ordained for mankind. Yet now we are faced with a view that perhaps leads somewhere else. The development of civilization appears to us as a peculiar process that humanity undergoes and in which some things strike us as familiar. We may characterize this process by citing the changes it brings about in well-known dispositions of the human drives, whose satisfaction is, after all, the economic task of our lives. Some of these drives are used up in such a way that in their place something appears that in an individual we describe as a character trait. The most curious example of this process is found in the anal eroticism of young human beings. Their original interest in the excretory function, in the organs and the products involved in it, is transformed as they grow older into a group of traits that we know as thrift, a sense of order and cleanliness, which, while valuable and welcome in themselves, may intensify and become predominant, thus producing what is called the anal character. How this happens we do not know, but there is no doubt that this view is correct. We have now found that order and cleanliness are essential requirements of civilization, though it is not altogether obvious that they are vitally necessary, any more than it is obvious that they are sources of pleasure. At this point we could not fail to be struck at first by the similarity between the process of civilization and the libidinal development of the individual. Other drives are induced to shift the conditions for their satisfaction, to direct them on to other paths; in most cases this coincides with sublimation (of the aims of the drives), with which we are familiar, but in some the two may still be kept apart. Sublimation of the drives is a particularly striking feature of cultural development, which makes it possible for the higher mental activities–scientific, artistic and ideological–to play such a significant role in civilized life. Yielding to a first impression, one is tempted to say that sublimation is a fate that civilization imposes on the drives. But one would do better to reflect on the matter a little longer. Thirdly–and this seems the most important point–it is impossible to overlook the extent to which civilization is built up on renunciation, how much it presupposes the non-satisfaction of powerful drives–by suppression, repression or some other means. Such 'cultural frustration' dominates the large sphere of inter personal relations; as we already know, it is the cause of the hostility that all civilizations have to contend with. It will also make serious demands on our scientific work; in this connection we have much to explain. It is not easy to understand how it is possible to deprive a drive of satisfaction. It cannot be done without risk; if there is no economic compensation, one can expect serious disturbances.

However, if we want to know what value can be claimed by our conception of the development of civilization as a particular process, comparable with the normal maturation of the individual, we clearly have to address another problem and ask ourselves to what influences the development of civilization owes its origin, how it emerged and what has determined its course.

————————————————————

* Psychoanalytic material, while incomplete and impossible to interpret with any certainty, at least allows a surmise–a fantastic-sounding one–about the origin of this great human achievement. It is as though primitive man was in the habit, when confronted with fire, of using it to satisfy an infantile desire by urinating on it and so putting it out. Extant legends leave us in no doubt about the original phallic interpretation of the tongues of flame stretching upwards. Extinguishing a fire by urinating on it–an activity still resorted to by the latter-day giants Gulliver in Lilliput and Rabelais' Gargantua–was therefore like a sexual act performed with a man, an enjoyment of male potency in homosexual rivalry. Whoever first renounced this pleasure and spared the fire was able to take it away with him and make it serve his purposes. By damping down the fire of his own sexual excitement he had subdued the natural force of fire. This great cultural conquest would thus be the reward for forgoing the satisfaction of a drive. Moreover, it is as though the man had charged the woman with guarding the fire, now held prisoner on the domestic hearth, because her anatomy made it impossible for her to yield to such a temptation. It is remarkable too how regularly analytic findings testify to the link between ambition, fire and urinal eroticism.

4

The task seems immense, and one may freely admit to being daunted by it. Here are the few conjectures I have been able to arrive at.

When primitive man had discovered that he had it in his own hands–quite literally–to improve his earthly lot by working, it could no longer be a matter of indifference to him whether someone else was working with him or against him. This other person now acquired for him the value of a fellow-worker, and it was useful to him if they both lived together. Even earlier, in his ape-like prehistory, man had taken to forming families, and members of the family were probably his first helpers. Presumably the founding of the family was linked with the fact that the need for genital satisfaction no longer made its appearance like a guest who turns up suddenly one day, then leaves and is not heard of again for a long time, but moved in as a permanent lodger. Hence, the male acquired a motive for keeping the female or–to put it more generally–his sexual objects around him, while the females, not wanting to be separated from their helpless young, had for their sake to remain with the stronger male.[*] In this primitive family we note the absence of one essential feature of civilization: the arbitrary power of the father, the head of the family, was absolute. In Totem and Taboo I tried to trace the route that led from this family to the next stage of communal living, which took the form of bands of brothers. On overpowering their father, the sons found that the group could be stronger than the individual. Totemic culture rests upon the restrictions they had to impose on one another in order to sustain this new state of affairs. Taboo observances constituted the first system of 'law'. There were thus two reasons why human beings should live together: one was the compulsion to work, which was created by external hardship; the other was the power of love, which made the man loath to dispense with his sexual object, the woman, and the woman loath to surrender her child, which had once been part of her. Eros and Ananke (Love and Necessity) thus become the progenitors of human civilization too. The first consequence of civilization was that even fairly large numbers of people could now stay together in a community. And because these two powerful forces worked in concert, future developments could be expected to proceed smoothly towards better and better control of the external world and the extension of the community to take in more and more people. Moreover, it is not easy to see how this civilization could be anything but a source of happiness to its participants.

Before we go on to consider where a disturbance might arise, let us allow ourselves to be deflected by the recognition of love as a foundation for civilization; in this way we can ill a gap in our earlier discussion. We said that, since sexual (genital) love had afforded man the most potent experiences of satisfaction and had actually supplied him with the model for all happiness, this should have told him that he would do well to go on seeking his happiness in the sphere of sexual relations and place genital eroticism at the centre of his life. We went on to say that by doing this one made oneself dangerously dependent on part of the external world, the chosen love-object, that one was exposed to extreme suffering if one was spurned by it or lost it through infidelity or death. For this reason sages in every age have emphatically advised against this way of conducting one's life, but it has not yet lost its attraction for much of humankind.

A small minority of people are enabled by their constitution, in spite of everything, to find happiness through love, though this necessitates great psychical modifications of its function. These people make themselves independent of the concurrence of the object of their love by shifting the main emphasis from being loved to their own loving; they protect themselves against the loss of the love object by directing their love not to individuals, but to everyone in equal measure, and they avoid the uncertainties and disappointments of genital love by deviating from its sexual aim and transforming the drive into an aim-inhibited impulse. What they thereby create in themselves–a state of balanced, unwavering, affectionate feeling–no longer bears much outward resemblance to the turbulent genital love-life from which it none the less derives. Perhaps St Francis of Assisi went furthest in exploiting love in this way to gain a feeling of inner happiness; moreover, what we recognize as one of the techniques for fulfilling the pleasure principle has frequently been associated with religion, with which it may be connected in those remote regions where the differentiation of the ego from the objects or the objects from one another is neglected. One ethical view, whose deeper motivation will presently become obvious, sees this readiness to love mankind and the world in general as the highest attitude to which human beings can attain. Even at this early stage we will not withhold our two main reservations: first, an undiscriminating love seems to us to forfeit some of its intrinsic value by doing its object an injustice, and, secondly, not all human beings are worthy of love.

The love that founded the family remains effective in civilization, both in its original form, in which direct sexual satisfaction is not renounced, and in its modified form as aim-inhibited affection. In both it continues to perform the function of binding together fairly large numbers of people, and it does so more intensively than would be possible on the basis of a common interest in work. The careless way in which the language uses the word 'love' can be justified historically. The word denotes not only the relation between a man and a woman, whose genital needs have led them to found a family, but also the positive feelings that exist within the family between parents and children, and between siblings, though we are bound to describe the latter relation as aim-inhibited love or affection. This aim inhibited love was in fact once a fully sensual love, and it still is in the individual's unconscious. Both fully sensual and aim-inhibited love extend outside the family and create new bonds with people who were previously strangers. Genital love leads to the formation of new families, and aim-inhibited love to 'friendships', which become important for civilization because they avoid some of the restrictions of genital love, such as its exclusivity. But as it develops, the relation of love to civilization ceases to be unequivocal. On the one hand, love comes into conflict with the interests of civilization; on the other, civilization threatens love with substantial restrictions.

This rift seems unavoidable, but its cause is not at once discernible. It first manifests itself as a conflict between the family and the wider community to which the individual belongs. We have already noted that one of civilization's chief endeavours is to bring people together in large units. However, the family will not give up the individual. The closer the solidarity of the family, the more often its members tend to cut themselves of from other people and the harder it is for them to enter into the wider circle of life. The phylogenetically older mode of living together–the only one that exists in childhood–resists being superseded by the civilized one that was acquired later. Detaching oneself from the family is a task that faces every young person, and society often supports him in performing it with puberty and initiation rites. One has the impression that such difficulties attach to any psychical development, indeed to any organic development.

Moreover, women soon come into conflict with the cultural trend and exercise a retarding, restraining influence on it, even though it was they who first laid the foundations of civilization with the claims of their love. Women stand for the interests of the family and sexual life, whereas the work of civilization has become more and more the business of the menfolk, setting them increasingly difficult tasks and obliging them to sublimate their drives–a task for which women have little aptitude. No person has unlimited quantities of psychical energy at his disposal, and so he has to accomplish his tasks through an expedient distribution of the libido. Whatever energy he expends on cultural aims is largely denied to the opposite sex: his constant association with men and his dependency on this association even estrange him from his duties as a husband and father. The woman therefore sees herself forced into the back ground by the claims of civilization and adopts a hostile attitude to it.

Civilization's tendency to restrict sexual life is no less clear than its other tendency–to extend the cultural circle. The first phase of civilization, the totemic phase, already involves the prohibition of incest in the choice of one's sexual object; this is perhaps the most drastic mutilation that man's erotic life has experienced through out the ages. Taboo, law and custom create further restrictions, affecting both men and women. Not all civilizations go to the same lengths; and the economic structure of society influences the degree of sexual freedom that remains. We already know that in this respect civilization follows the dictates of economic necessity, because it deprives sexuality of much of the mental energy that it consumes. Civilization thus behaves towards sexuality like a tribe or a section of the population that has subjected another and started exploiting it. Fear that the victims may rebel necessitates strict precautionary measures. A high point in such a development can be seen in our western European civilization. It is psycho logically quite justified to begin by prohibiting expressions of infantile sexuality, for there is no prospect of curbing the sexual appetities of adults unless preparatory measures have been taken in childhood. Yet civilized society cannot in any way be justified in going further and actually denying these phenomena, which are easily demonstrable, indeed striking. The sexually mature individual finds that his choice of object is restricted to the opposite sex, and that most extra-genital gratifications are forbidden as perversions. The demand for a uniform sexual life for all, which is proclaimed in all these prohibitions, disregards all the disparities, innate and acquired, in the sexual constitution of human beings, thereby depriving fairly large numbers of sexual enjoyment and becoming a source of grave injustice. The result of such restrictions might be that in normal persons–those who are not constitutionally inhibited–all sexual interest would low, with no loss, into the channels still let open to it. But what is not outlawed–heterosexual genital love–is still limited by legitimacy and monogamy. Present-day civilization makes it clear that it will permit sexual relations only on the basis of a unique and indissoluble bond between a man and a woman, that it disapproves of sexuality as a source of pleasure in its own right and will tolerate it only as the device–for which a substitute has still to be found–for the increase of mankind.

This is of course an extreme view, and it is known to have proved impracticable, even for quite short periods. Only the weaklings have acquiesced in such a gross invasion of their sexual freedom; stronger spirits have insisted on a compensatory condition, which can be mentioned later. Civilized society has found itself obliged to turn a blind eye to many transgressions that by its own lights it should have punished. Yet one must not err in the opposite direction and assume that such a cultural attitude is altogether innocuous because it does not do all it sets out to do. After all, the sexual life of civilized man has been seriously damaged; at times one has the impression that as a function it is subject to a process of involution, such as our teeth and our hair seem to be undergoing as organs. One is probably entitled to suppose that its importance as a source of happiness–and therefore as a means to fulfil our purpose in life–has perceptibly diminished. Now and then one seems to realize that this is not just the pressure of civilization, but that something inherent in the function itself denies us total satisfaction and forces us on to other paths. This may be wrong–it is hard to decide.[*]

Sigmund Freud

————————————————————

* The organic periodicity of the sexual process had been retained, but its influence on psychical sexual excitation was reversed. This change was most probably connected with the decline of the olfactory stimuli by which the menstrual process affected the mate psyche. Their role was taken over by visual excitations, which differed from the intermittent olfactory stimuli in that they could remain permanently effective. The taboo on menstruation stems from this 'organic repression', as a defence against a phase of development that has been surmounted; all other motivations are probably of a secondary nature. (Cf. C. D. Daly, 'Hindumythologie und Kastrationskomplex', Imago XIII, 1927.) This process is replicated at a different level when the gods of a past cultural period become the demons of the next. However, the decline of the olfactory stimuli itself seems to have resulted from man's decision to adopt an upright gait, which meant that the genitals, previously hidden, became visible and in need of protection, thus giving rise to a sense of shame. The beginning of the fateful process of civilization, then, would have been marked by man's adopting of an erect posture. From then on the chain of events proceeded, by way of the devaluation of the olfactory stimuli and the isolation of the menstrual period, to the preponderance of the visual stimuli and the visibility of the genitals, then to the continuity of sexual excitation and the founding of the family, and so to the threshold of human civilization. This is merely theoretical speculation, but it is sufficiently important to deserve to be precisely tested against the conditions of life obtaining among those animals that are closely related to man.

There is an unmistakable social factor in the cultural striving for cleanliness too, which was later justified on grounds of hygiene, but manifested itself before this connection was appreciated. The urge for cleanliness arises from the wish to get rid of excrement, which has become repugnant to the senses. In the nursery, as we know, things are different. Excrement does not arouse any disgust in the child; it seems valuable to him as a part of his body that has become detached. Upbringing here insists on accelerating the future course of development, which will make excrement worthless, disgusting, revolting and abominable. Such a reversal of values would be scarcely possible if this material excreted by the body were not condemned by its strong smell to share the fate that overtook the olfactory stimuli after man adopted an erect posture. Hence, anal eroticism first yields to the 'organic repression' that paved the way for civilization. Evidence of the social factor, leading to the further transformation of anal eroticism, is found in the fact that, all evolutionary progress notwithstanding, human beings hardly find the smell of their own excrement offensive–only that of others. A person who lacks cleanliness–who does not hide his excrement–thereby offends others and shows them no consideration, and this is reflected in our strongest and commonest terms of abuse. It would also be incomprehensible that man should use the name of his most faithful friend in the animal world as a term of abuse, were it not for the fact that the dog incurs his contempt through two of its characteristics: as an animal that relies on smell it does not shun excrement, and it is not ashamed of its sexual functions.

* The following observations are offered in support of the supposition made above. Man too is an animal with an unequivocally bisexual disposition. The individual represents a fusion of two symmetrical halves; one of these, in the opinion of some investigators, is purely male, the other female. It is equally possible that each half was originally hermaphrodite. Sexuality is a biological fact that is immensely important in our psychical life, but it is hard to compre hend psychologically. We are in the habit of saying that every human being exhibits both male and female impulses, needs and properties, but while anatomy can distinguish between male and female, psy chology cannot. In the latter discipline the contrast between 'male' and 'female' pales into one between 'active' and 'passive'. We do not hesitate to equate 'active' with 'male' and 'passive' with 'female', but these equations are by no means universally confirmed by the study of animals. The theory of bisexuality is still shrouded in obscurity, and the fact that it has not been connected with that of the drives is bound to strike us as a serious flaw in psychoanalysis. Be that as it may, if we take it to be a fact that every individual seeks to satisfy both male and female desires in his or her sexual life, we are prepared for the possibility that these are not fulfilled by the same object and that they interfere with one another unless they can be kept apart and each impulse can be guided into the proper channel. A further difficulty arises because erotic relations are so often associated with a degree of direct aggression, quite apart from the sadistic component that properly belongs to them. Faced with such complications, the love-object will not always be as understanding and tolerant as the farmer's wife who complained that her husband no longer loved her because he had not beaten her for a week.

The surmise that goes deepest, however, is one that arises from my remarks in the footnote [section IV, p. 46], to the effect that, with man's adoption of an upright posture and the devaluation of his sense of smell, the whole of his sexuality–not just his anal eroticism–was in danger of becoming subject to organic repression, so that the sexual function has since been accompanied by an unaccountable repugnance, which prevents total gratification and deflects it from the sexual aim towards sublimations and displacements of the libido. I know that some time ago Bleuler ('Der Sexualwiderstand', Jahrbuch für psychoanalytische und psy-chopathologische Forschungen V [1913]) pointed to the existence of an original aversion to sexual life. All neurotics, and many others, object to the fact that inter urinas et faeces nascimur ('we are born between urine and faeces'). The genitals give off strong smells that are intolerable to many and spoil their enjoyment of sexual intercourse. Hence, the ultimate root of the sexual repression that accompanies cultural progress would seem to be the organic defence of the new way of life, ushered in by man's adoption of an upright gait, against his earlier animal existence. This result of scientific research coincides in a curious way with a banal prejudice that is often voiced. However, these are at present merely unconfirmed possibilities that lack any scientific corroboration. And let us not forget that, in spite of the undoubted devaluation of olfactory stimuli, there are certain peoples, even in Europe, for whom the pungent genital odours we find offensive are valuable sexual stimuli, which they would be loath to forgo. (See the folkdoric findings of Iwan Bloch's questionnaire on 'the sense of smell in sexual life', published in various issues of the Anthropophyteia of Friedrich S. Krauss.)

5

Psychoanalytic work has taught us that it is precisely these frustrations of sexual life that those whom we call neurotics cannot endure. Neurotics create substitutive satisfactions for themselves in their symptoms, but these either create suffering in themselves or become sources of suffering by causing the subjects difficulties in their relations with their surroundings and society. The latter fact is easy to understand, but the former poses a fresh puzzle. However, civilization demands other sacrifices apart from that of sexual satisfaction.

We have viewed the difficulty of cultural development as a general difficulty of development by tracing it back to the inertia of the libido, to the latter's unwillingness to give up an old position for a new one. We are saying much the same thing when we derive the opposition between civilization and sexuality from the fact that sexual love is a relationship between two people, in which a third party can only be superfluous or trouble some, whereas civilization rests on relations between quite large numbers of people. When a love relationship is at its height, the lovers no longer have any interest in the world around them; they are self-sufficient as a pair, and in order to be happy they do not even need the child they have in common. In no other case does Eros so deafly reveal what is at the core of his being, the aim of making one out of more than one; however, having achieved this proverbial goal by making two people fall in love, he refuses to go any further.

Up to now we can well imagine a cultural community consisting of such double individuals, libidinally sated in themselves, but linked by the bonds of shared work and interests. If this were so it would not be necessary for civilization to rob sexuality of any of its energy. But this desirable state of affairs does not exist, and never has. Reality shows us that civilization is not satisfied with the bonds that have so far been conceded to it; it seeks also to bind the members of the community libidinally to one another, employing every available means to this end, favouring any path that leads to strong identifications among them, and summoning up the largest possible measure of aim-inhibited libido in order to reinforce the communal bonds with ties of friendship. For the fulfilment of these objectives the restriction of sexual life becomes inevitable. Yet we lack any understanding of the necessity that forces civilization along this path and can account for its opposition to sexuality. There must be a disturbing factor that we have not yet discovered.

One of what have been called the ideal demands of civilized society may put us on the fight track. It runs: 'Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself'. It is famous the world over, and certainly older than Christianity, which puts it forward as its proudest claim, but assuredly not very old, for in historical times it still struck people as strange. We will approach it naively, as if we were heating it for the first time. We shall then be unable to suppress a sense of surprise and bewilderment. Why should we behave in this way? What good will it do us? But above all, how shall we manage to act like this? How will it be possible? My love is something I value and must not throw away irresponsibly. It imposes duties on me, and in performing these duties I must be prepared to make sacrifices. If I love another person, he must in some way deserve it. (I will disregard whatever use he may be to me, and whatever importance he may have for me as a sexual object: these two kinds of relationship have no relevance to the injunction to love my neighbour.) He deserves it if, in certain important respects, he so much resembles me that in him I can love myself. He deserves it if he is so much more perfect than myself that I can love in him an ideal image of myself. I must love him if he is my friend's son, for the pain my friend would feel if any harm befell him would be my pain too; I should have to share it. But if he is a stranger to me and cannot attract me by any merit of his own or by any importance he has acquired in my emotional life, it becomes hard for me to love him. Indeed, it would be wrong of me to do so, for my love is prized by my family and friends as a sign of my preference for them; to put a stranger on a par with them would be to do them an injustice. Yet if I am to love him, with this universal love-just because he is a creature of this earth, like an insect, an earthworm or a grass-snake–then I fear that only a modicum of love will fall to his share, and certainly not as much as the judgement of my reason entitles me to reserve for myself. What is the point of such a portentous precept if its fulfilment cannot commend itself as reasonable?

On closer inspection I find still more difficulties. This stranger is not only altogether unlovable: I must honestly confess that he has a greater claim to my enmity, even to my hatred. He appears to have not the least love for me and shows me not the slightest consideration. If it is to his advantage, he has no hesitation in harming me, nor does he ask himself whether the magnitude of his advantage is commensurate with the harm he does me. Indeed, it need not bring him any advantage at all: if he can merely satisfy some desire by acting in this way, he will think nothing of mocking, insulting or slandering me, or using me as a foil to show off his power. The more secure he feels and the more helpless I am, the surer I can be of his behaving towards me like this. If he acts differently towards me, a stranger, and treats me with consideration and forbearance, I am in any case ready to repay him in like coin, without any injunction to do so. Indeed, if this grandiose commandment were to read: 'Love thy neighbour as thy neighbour loves thee', I should have no quarrel with it. There is another commandment that I find even more unintelligible and that causes me to rebel even more fiercely. It runs: 'Love thine enemies.' But on reflection I see that I am wrong to reject it as a still greater presumption. Essentially it is no different.[*]

But now I seem to hear a dignified voice admonishing me: 'It is precisely because your neighbour is not lovable, but on the contrary your enemy, that you must love him as yourself.' I then understand this to be another instance of Credo quia absurdum ('I believe it because it is absurd').

Now, it is quite likely that my neighbour, if enjoined to love me as himself, will react exactly as I do and reject me for the very same reasons. I hope he will not have the same objective justification, but he will be of the same mind. However, there are differences in human behaviour that ethics classify as 'good' and 'evil', disregarding the fact that such differences are conditioned. While these undeniable differences remain, the fulfilment of these high ethical demands is detrimental to the purposes of civilization in that it proposes direct rewards for wrongful conduct. In this connection one cannot help recalling an incident that occurred in the French Chamber when capital punishment was being debated. One speaker pleaded passionately for its abolition and received tumultuous applause, until a voice called out from the body of the hall: 'Que messieurs les assassins commencent!' ['Let the murderers make the first move!']

The reality behind all this, which many would deny, is that human beings are not gentle creatures in need of love, at most able to defend themselves if attacked; on the contrary, they can count a powerful share of aggression among their instinctual endowments. Hence, their neighbour is not only a potential helper or sexual object, but also someone who tempts them to take out their aggression on him, to exploit his labour without recompense, to use him sexually without his consent, to take possession of his goods, to humiliate him and cause him pain, to torture and kill him. Homo homini lupus [Man is a wolf to man]. Who, after all that he has learnt from life and history, would be so bold as to dispute this proposition? As a rule, this cruel aggression waits for some provocation or puts itself at the service of a different aim, which could be attained by milder means. If the circumstances favour it, if the psychical counter-forces that would otherwise inhibit it have ceased to operate, it manifests itself spontaneously and reveals man as a savage beast that has no thought of sparing its own kind. Whoever calls to mind the horrors of the migrations of the peoples, the incursions of the Huns, or of the people known as the Mongols under Genghiz Khan and Tamefiane, the conquest of Jerusalem by the pious Crusaders, or indeed the horrors of the Great War, will be obliged to acknowledge this as a fact.

It is the existence of this tendency to aggression, which we detect in ourselves and rightly presume in others, that vitiates our relations with our neighbour and obliges civilization to go to such lengths. Given this fundamental hostility of human beings to one another, civilized society is constantly threatened with disintegration. A common interest in work would not hold it together: passions that derive from the drives are stronger than reasonable interests. Civilization has to make every effort to limit man's aggressive drives and hold down their manifestations through the formation of psychical reactions. This leads to the use of methods that are meant to encourage people to identify themselves with others and enter into aim-inhibited erotic relationships, to the restriction of sexual life, and also to the ideal commandment to love one's neighbour as oneself, which is actually justified by the fact that nothing else runs so much counter to basic human nature. For all the effort invested in it, this cultural endeavour has so far not achieved very much. It hopes to prevent the crudest excesses of brutal violence by assuming the right to use violence against criminals, but the law cannot deal with the subtler manifestations of human aggression. There comes a point at which each of us abandons, as illusions, the expectations he pinned to his fellow men when he was young and can appreciate how difficult and painful his life is made by their ill will. At the same time it would be unjust to reproach civilization with wanting to exclude contention and competition from human activity. These are certainly indispensable, but opposition is not necessarily enmity: it is merely misused as an occasion for the latter.

The communists think they have found the way to redeem mankind from evil. Man is unequivocally good and well disposed to his neighbour, but his nature has been corrupted by the institution of private property. Ownership of property gives the individual the power, and so the temptation, to mistreat his neighbour; who ever is excluded from ownership is bound to be hostile to the oppressor and rebel against him. When private property is abolished, when goods are held in common and enjoyed by all, ill will and enmity among human beings will cease. Because all needs will be satisfied, no one will have any reason to see another person as his enemy; everyone will be glad to undertake whatever work is necessary. I am not concerned with economic criticisms of the communist system; I have no way of knowing whether the abolition of private property is expedient and beneficial.[*] But I can recognize the psychological presumption behind it as a baseless illusion. With the abolition of private property the human love of aggression is robbed of one of its tools, a strong one no doubt, but certainly not the strongest. No change has been made in the disparities of power and influence that aggression exploits in pursuit of its ends, or in its nature. Aggression was not created by property; it prevailed with almost no restriction in primitive times, when property was very scanty. It already manifests itself in the nursery, where property has hardly given up its original anal form. It forms the basis of all affectionate and loving relations among human beings, with perhaps the one exception of the relation between the mother and her male child. Even if we do away with the personal right to own material goods, the prerogative that resides in sexual relations still remains, and this is bound to become the source of the greatest animosity and the fiercest enmity among human beings who are equal in all other respects. If we remove this inequality too and allow total sexual freedom–thus doing away with the family, the germ-cell of civilization–it will admittedly be impossible to foresee on what new paths the development of civilization may strike out. But of one thing we can be certain: this indestructible feature of human nature will follow it wherever it leads.

It is clearly not easy for people to forgo the satisfaction of their tendency to aggression. To do so makes them feel uneasy. One should not belittle the advantage that is enjoyed by a fairly small cultural circle, which is that it allows the aggressive drive an outlet in the form of hostility to outsiders. It is always possible to bind quite large numbers of people together in love, provided that others are left out as targets for aggression. I once discussed this phenomenon, the fact that it is precisely those communities that occupy contiguous territories and are otherwise closely related to each other–like the Spaniards and the Portuguese, the North Germans and the South Germans, the English and the Scots, etc.–that indulge in feuding and mutual mockery. I called this phenomenon 'the narcissism of small differences'–not that the name does much to explain it. It can be seen as a convenient and relatively innocuous way of satisfying the tendency to aggression and facilitating solidarity within the community. The Jews of the diaspora have made valuable contributions to the cultures of the countries in which they have settled, but unfortunately all the massacres of Jews that took place in the Middle Ages failed to make the age safer and more peaceful for the Christians. After St Paul had made universal brotherly love the foundation of his Christian community, the extreme intolerance of Christianity towards those let outside it was an inevitable consequence. To the Romans, whose state was not founded on love, religious intolerance had been quite foreign, though religion was a state concern and the state was steeped in religion. Nor was it quite fortuitous and incomprehensible that the Germanic dream of world-dominion should invoke anti-semitism as its complement. And it is under standable that the attempt to establish a new, communist culture in Russia should find psychological support in the persecution of the bourgeois. One only wonders, with some anxiety, what the Soviets will turn to when they have exterminated their bourgeoisie.

If civilization imposes such great sacrifices not only on man's sexuality, but also on his aggressivity, we are in a better position to understand why it is so hard for him to feel happy in it. Primitive man was actually better off, because his drives were not restricted. Yet this was counterbalanced by the fact that he had little certainty of enjoying this good fortune for long. Civilized man has traded in a portion of his chances of happiness for a certain measure of security. But let us not forget that in the primeval family only its head could give full rein to his drives; its other members lived in slavish suppression. In that primordial era of civilization there was therefore an extreme contrast between a minority who enjoyed its benefits and the majority to whom they were denied. As for today's primitive peoples, more careful study has shown that we have no reason whatever to envy them their instinctual life by reason of the freedom attaching to it; it is subject to restrictions of a different kind, which are perhaps even more severe than those imposed on modem civilized man.

When we rightly reproach the present state of our civilization with its inadequate response to our demand for a form of life that will make us happy, and with allowing so much suffering, which could probably be avoided–and when we strive, with unsparing criticism, to expose the roots of this inadequacy–we are exercising a legitimate right and certainly not revealing ourselves as enemies of civilization. We may hope gradually to carry out such modifications in our civilization as will better satisfy our needs and escape this criticism. But perhaps we shall also become familiar with the idea that there are some difficulties that are inherent in the nature of civilization and will defy any attempt at reform. In addition to the tasks involved in restricting the drives–for which we are prepared–we are faced with the danger of a condition that we may call 'the psychological misery of the mass'. This danger is most threatening where social bonding is produced mainly by the participants' identification with one another, while individuals of leadership calibre do not acquire the importance that should be accorded to them in the formation of the mass. The present state of American civilization would provide a good opportunity to study the cultural damage that is to be feared. But I shall avoid the temptation to engage in a critique of American civilization; I do not wish to give the impression of wanting to employ American methods myself.

————————————————————

* A great writer can allow himself, at least in jest, to express psychologi cal truths that incur severe disapproval. Heine, for instance, confesses: 'I have the most peaceable disposition. My wishes are: a modest cottage with a thatched roof, but a good bed, good food, milk and butter, very fresh, flowers in front of the window, a few beautiful trees in front of the door; and if the good Lord wants to make me completely happy, he will grant me the pleasure of seeing six or seven of my enemies hanged from these trees. My heart will be moved, and before they die I will forgive them all the wrongs they did me in their lifetime. Yes, one must forgive one's enemies, but not before they are hanged.'

* Anyone who has tasted the misery of poverty in his youth and experienced the indifference and arrogance of propertied people, should be safe from the suspicion that he has no sympathy with current efforts to combat inequalities of wealth and all that flows from them. Of course, if this struggle seeks to appeal to the abstract demand, made in the name of justice, for equality among all men, the objection is all too obvious: nature, by her highly unequal endowment of individuals with physical attributes and mental abilities, has introduced injustices that cannot be remedied.

6

With none of my writings have I had such a strong feeling as I have now that what I am describing is common knowledge, that I am using pen and paper, and shall soon be using the services of the compositor and the printer, to say things that are in fact self-evident. For this reason I shall be glad to take the matter up if it appears that the recognition of a special, independent aggressive drive entails a modification of psychoanalytic theory regarding the drives.

It will be seen that this is not so, that it is merely a matter of focusing more sharply on a change of direction that took place long ago, and of following up its consequences. Of all the elements of analytic theory that have taken so long to develop, the doctrine of the drives is the one that has edged its way forward most laboriously. And yet it was so indispensable to the whole that some thing had to be put in its place. After I had at first been totally at a loss, my first clue came from a proposition by the poet-philosopher Schiller, to the effect that the mechanism of the world was held together by 'hunger and love'. Hunger could be taken to represent those drives that seek to preserve the individual creature, whereas love strives after objects, and its chief function, favoured in every way by nature, is to preserve the species. Thus at first ego-drives and object-drives con fronted one another. To denote the energy of the latter–and them alone–I introduced the term 'libido'; there was thus a contrast between the ego-drives and the libidinal drives of love, in the widest sense of the word, which were directed towards an object. One of these latter, the sadistic drive, admittedly stood out from the rest because its aim was so utterly devoid of love. More over, in some respects it was obviously attached to the ego-drives; it could not conceal its close affinity to the drives that aim at domination and have no libidinal purpose. However, it proved possible to get over this discrepancy: after all, sadism was clearly part of sexual life, in which cruelty could replace tendemess. Neurosis appeared to be the result of a struggle between the interest of self-preservation and the demands of the libido, a struggle in which the ego had triumphed, but at the price of grave suffering and sacrifice.

Every analyst will admit that even today this does not sound like a long-discarded error. Yet a modification became indispensable when our research proceeded from what was repressed to the agent of repression, from the object-drives to the ego. The decisive step here was the introduction of the concept of narcissism–that is to say the recognition that the ego itself is occupied by libido, that it is in fact the libido's original home and remains to some extent its headquarters. This narcissistic libido turns towards objects, thus becoming object libido, and can change back again into narcissistic libido. The concept of narcissism made it possible to understand and analyse traumatic neurosis, together with many other conditions that are closely related to the psychoses, as well as the psychoses themselves. There was no need to abandon the interpretation of transference neuroses as attempts by the ego to fend of sexuality, but the concept of libido was endangered. Since the ego-drives too were libidinal, it seemed for a time inevitable that the libido should be allowed to merge with the energy of the drives generally, as C. G. Jung had earlier advocated. Yet there remained something like a certainty, as yet unexplained, that the drives could not all be of the same kind. My next step was taken in Beyond the Pleasure Principle (1920), when I was first struck by the compulsion to repeat and the conservative nature of the drives. Starting from speculations about the beginning of life and from biological parallels, I reached the conclusion that, in addition to the drive to preserve the living substance and bring it together in ever larger units,[*] there must be another, opposed to it, which sought to break down these units and restore them to their primordial inorganic state. Beside Eros, then, there was a death drive, and the inter action and counteraction of these two could explain the phenomena of life. Now, it was not easy to demonstrate the activity of this supposed death drive. The manifestations of Eros were plain enough to see and hear; one might presume that the death drive operated silently inside the living being, working towards its dissolution, but this of course did not amount to a proof. A more fruitful idea was that a portion of the drive was directed against the external world and then appeared as a drive that aimed at aggression and destruction. In this way the drive was itself pressed into the service of Eros, inasmuch as the organism destroyed other things, both animate and inanimate, instead of itself. Conversely, any restriction of this outward-directed aggression would be bound to increase the degree of self-destruction, which in any case continued. At the same time one could surmise, on the basis of this example, that the two kinds of drive seldom–perhaps never–appeared in isolation, but alloyed with one another in different and highly varying proportions and so became unrecognizable to our judgement. In sadism, which has long been recognized as a partial drive of sexuality, one would be faced with a particularly strong alloy of the striving for love and the drive for destruction, just as its counterpart, masochism, would be a combination of inward-directed destruction and sexuality, through which the otherwise imperceptible striving became conspicuous and palpable.

The assumption of a death drive or a drive for destruction has met with resistance even in analytic circles; I am aware that there is a widespread tendency to ascribe anything that is thought to be dangerous or hostile about love to an original bipolarity in its own nature. The views I have developed here were at first put forward only tentatively, but in the course of time they have taken such a hold on me that I can no longer think in any other way. In my view they are theoretically far more serviceable than any others one might entertain; they produce what we strive for in scientific work–a simple answer that neither neglects nor does violence to the facts. I recognize that we have always seen sadism and masochism as manifestations of the destructive drive, directed outwards or inwards and strongly alloyed with eroticism, but I can no longer understand how we could have ignored the ubiquity of non-erotic aggression and destruction and failed to accord it its due place in the interpretation of life. (The inward-directed craving for destruction mostly eludes our perception, of course, unless it is tinged with eroticism.) I can remember how I myself resisted the idea ora destructive drive when it first appeared in psychoanalytic literature, and how long it took me to become receptive to it. That others rejected it too, and still do, I find less surprising. 'For the little children do not like it' when there is talk of man's inborn tendency to 'wickedness', to aggression and destruction, and there fore to cruelty. For God created them in his own perfect image; one does not wish to be reminded of how hard it is to reconcile the existence of evil, which cannot be denied–despite the protestations of Christian Science–with His infinite power and goodness. The Devil would be the best excuse for God; he would take on the same exculpatory role in this context as the Jew in the world of the Aryan ideal. But even so, one can still demand that God be held responsible for the existence of the Devil and the evil he embodies. In view of these difficulties, it is advisable for each of us, at an appropriate point, to make a profound obeisance to man's deeply moral nature; this will help to make us generally popular, and much will be forgiven us.[*]

The name 'libido' can once more be applied to manifestations of the power of Eros, in order to distinguish them from the energy of the death drive.[†] It has to be admitted that the latter is much harder to grasp and can to some extent be discerned only as a residue left behind by Eros, and that it escapes our notice unless it is revealed through being alloyed with Eros. It is in sadism, where it perverts the erotic aim for its own purposes while fully satisfying the sexual striving, that we have the clearest insight into its nature and its relation to Eros. Yet even where it appears without any sexual purpose, in the blindest destructive fury, there is no mistaking the fact that its satisfaction is linked with an extraordinarily high degree of narcissistic enjoyment, in that this satisfaction shows the ego how its old wish for omnipotence can be fulfilled. Moderated and tamed–aim-inhibited, as it were–the destructive drive, when directed towards objects, must provide the ego with the satisfaction of its vital needs and with control over nature. As its existence is posited essentially on theoretical grounds, one must also admit that it is not wholly proof against theoretical objections. But this is how things appear to us now, in the present state of our knowledge; future research and reflection will undoubtedly bring the decisive clarification.

For the rest, I take the view that the tendency to aggression is an original, autonomous disposition in man, and I return to my earlier contention that it represents the greatest obstacle to civilization. At one point in this investigation we were faced with the realization that civilization was a special process undergone by humanity, and we are still under the spell of this idea. We will now add that it is a process in the service of Eros, whose purpose is to gather together individuals, then families and finally tribes, peoples and nations in one great unit–humanity. Why this has to happen we do not know: it is simply the work of Eros. These multitudes of human beings are to be libidinally bound to one another; necessity alone, the advantages of shared work, will not hold them together. However, this programme of civilization is opposed by man's natural aggressive drive, the hostility of each against all and all against each. This aggressive drive is the descendant and principal representative of the death drive, which we have found beside Eros and which rules the world jointly with him. And now, I think, the meaning of the development of civilization is no longer obscure to us. This development must show us the struggle between Eros and death, between the life drive and the drive for destruction, as it is played out in the human race. This struggle is the essential content of all life; hence, the development of civilization may be described simply as humanity's struggle for existence.[*] And this battle of the giants is what our nurse-maids seek to mitigate with their lullaby about heaven.

————————————————————

* The contrast that emerges here between the restless expansive tendency of Eros and the generally conservative nature of the drives is striking and could become the starting point for the study of further problems.

* Especially convincing is the equation of the principle of evil with the destructive drive in the person of Goethe's Mephistopheles: 'For everything that comes into being /Is worthy of destruction /…/ So, then, everything you call sin, / Destruction–in short, evil- / Is my true element.'

As his adversary, the devil himself names not the holy and the good, but nature's power to procreate, to multiply life–in other words, Eros: 'From air, water and earth/A thousand germs break forth, / In dry, wet, warm and cold!/Had I not reserved the flame for myself, / I should have nothing to call my own.'

† Our present view can be roughly expressed in the proposition that libido is involved in the manifestation of every drive, but not everything in this manifestation is libido.

* Probably we should add, to be more precise: 'in the shape it was bound to take on after a certain event that is still a matter for conjecture'.

7

Why do our relatives, the animals, show no sign of such a cultural struggle? We have no way of knowing. It is very likely that some of them–the bees, the ants, the termites–struggled for thousands of centuries until they evolved the state institutions, the distribution of functions, the restrictions on individuals, for which we admire them today. It is characteristic of our present condition that we feel we should not be happy in any of these animal states or the roles assigned in them to individuals. In the case of other animal species it may be that a temporary compromise was reached between the influences of their surroundings and the conflicting drives within them, so that any development was brought to a halt. It may be that in primitive man a fresh access of libido fanned fresh resistance on the part of the destructive drive. There are many questions to be asked, and as yet no answers.

Another question is closer to home. What means does civilization employ in order to inhibit the aggression it faces, to render it harmless and possibly eliminate it? We have already become acquainted with some of the methods, but not with the one that seems most important. We can study this in the development of the individual. What happens to him to render his aggressivity harmless? Something very curious, which we would not have suspected, but which is plain to see. The aggression is introjected, internalized, actually sent back to where it came from; in other words, it is directed against the individual's own ego. There it is taken over by a portion of the ego that sets itself up as the super-ego, in opposition to the rest, and is now prepared, as 'conscience', to exercise the same severe aggression against the ego that the latter would have liked to direct towards other individuals. The tension between the stem super-ego and the ego that is subject to it is what we call a 'sense of guilt'; this manifests itself as a need for punishment. In this way civilization overcomes the dangerous aggressivity of the individual, by weakening him, disarming him and setting up an internal authority to watch over him, like a garrison in a conquered town.

Regarding the origin of the sense of guilt, the analyst's view differs from that of other psychologists, and he too finds it difficult to account for. In the first place, if we ask how a person comes to have a sense of guilt, the answer we receive cannot be gainsaid: one feels guilty (pious people would say 'sinful') if one has done something one recognizes as 'evil'. Ten we realize how little this tells us. After some hesitation we may add that even a person who has done no wrong, but merely recognizes in himself an intention to do wrong, may consider him self guilty–which raises the question of why in this case the intention is equated with the deed. Both cases presuppose that we have already recognized evil as reprehensible, as something that should not be carried out. How do we arrive at this judgement? We may reject the notion of an original–as it were, natural–capacity to distinguish between good and evil. Evil is often far from harmful or dangerous to the ego; it may even be some thing it welcomes and takes pleasure in. Here, then, is a pointer to an outside influence, which determines what is to be called good or evil. As a person's own feelings would not have led him in this direction, he must have a motive for submitting to this outside influence. This is easily dicovered in his helplessness and dependency on others; it can best be described as a fear of loss of love. If he loses the love of a person he depends on, he is no longer protected against various dangers; above all, he is exposed to the risk that this more powerful person will demonstrate his superiority by punishing him. At first, then, evil is something for which one is threatened with loss of love; it must therefore be avoided. Hence, it hardly matters whether one has already done some thing wrong or merely intends to; in either case the danger arises only if the supervising authority finds out, and in either case the authority would behave in the same way.

This state of mind we call a 'bad conscience', but it really does not merit the name, for at this stage consciousness of guilt is clearly no more than a fear of loss of love, a 'social' anxiety. In a small child it can never be anything else, but for many adults too the only change is that the place once occupied by the father, or by both parents, has been taken over by the wider human community. Hence, adults regularly allow themselves to commit wrongful acts that hold out the promise of enjoyment, so long as they are sure that the authority will not learn of it or cannot hold it against them; their only fear is of being found out. This is the state of affairs that today's society generally has to reckon with.

Nothing much changes until the authority is internalized through the establishment of the super-ego. The phenomena of conscience are thereby raised to a new level; only now can one properly speak of conscience and a sense of guilt.[*] The fear of discovery is no longer an issue, nor is the difference between wrong-doing and the intention to do wrong, for nothing, not even one's thoughts, can be hidden from the super-ego. Of course, the real gravity of the situation has passed, for to the best of our belief the new authority, the superego, has no reason to ill-treat the ego, with which it is intimately linked. But the way it came into existence is still influential in ensuring the survival of what is past and has been surmounted, so that things remain essentially as they were at the beginning. The superego torments the sinful ego with the same anxieties and is on the look-out for opportunities to expose it to punishment by the external world.

At this second stage of development, the conscience exhibits a peculiarity that was absent at the first and is not easy to explain. The more virtuous a person is, the sterner and more distrustful is his conscience, so that the very people who have attained the highest degree of saintliness are in the end the ones who accuse themselves of being most sinful. Virtue thus forfeits part of its promised reward; the compliant and abstinent ego does not enjoy the trust of its mentor and seemingly strives in vain to earn it. Now, it will at once be objected that these are artifically contrived difficulties, that a stricter and more vigilant conscience is the hallmark of a moral nature, and that if saints call themselves sinners, this is not without justification, in view of the temptations they are under to satisfy their drives, temptations to which they are particularly exposed, as it is well known that temptations are only increased by constant frustration, but diminished, at least for a time, by the occasional satisfaction. Another fact in the highly problematic field of ethics is that ill luck–that is to say, external frustration–greatly enhances the force of conscience in the super-ego. So long as things go well for a person, his conscience is lenient and indulges the ego in all kinds of ways. When a misfortune has befallen him he searches his soul, recognizes his sinfulness, pitches the demands of his conscience higher, imposes privations on himself, and punishes himself by acts of penance.[*] Whole peoples have behaved like this and still do. However, this is easily explained by reference to the original infantile phase of the conscience, which is not abandoned after the introjection into the super-ego, but persists beside and behind it. Fate is seen as replacing parental authority; if one suffers misfortune, this is because one is no longer loved by this supreme power, and under the threat of such loss of love, one again bows to the virtual parental authority of the super-ego, which one was happy to ignore while one's luck held. This becomes especially clear if one takes a strictly religious view and sees fate only as the expression of the divine will. The people of Israel had thought of itself as God's favourite child, and when the great Father let one misfortune after another rain down upon His people, it never doubted this relationship with God or questioned His power and justice, but brought forth the prophets, who reproached it for its sinfulness, and created, from its consciousness of guilt, the exceedingly stem precepts of its priestly religion. It is curious how differently primitive man behaves. Having met with misfortune, he puts the blame not on himself, but on the fetish, which has clearly not done its duty, and whips it instead of punishing himself.

We thus know of two origins of the sense of guilt: one is fear of authority; the other, which came later, is fear of the super-ego. The former forces us to forgo the satisfaction of our drives; in addition to this, the latter insists on punishment, for the continuance of our for bidden desires cannot be hidden from the super-ego. We have also learnt how the severity of the super-ego–the requirements of conscience–can be understood. This severity simply perpetuates that of the external authority, which it supersedes and partly replaces. We now see how renunciation of the drives relates to consciousness of guilt. Initially this renunciation results from fear of the external authority; one renounces certain satisfactions in order to avoid losing its love. After renouncing them, one is, as it were, quits with the authority, and no sense of guilt should remain. Tings are different, however, when it comes to fear of the super-ego. To renounce the drives is no longer enough, for the desire persists and cannot be concealed from the super-ego. Despite one's renunciation, then, a sense of guilt will arise, and this is a great economic disadvantage in the institution of the super-ego, or, one might say, in the formation of conscience. Renunciation of the drives no longer has a fully liberating effect; virtuous abstention is no longer rewarded by the assurance of love; the threat of extemal unhappiness–loss of love, and punishment at the hands of the external authority–has been exchanged for an enduring inner unhappiness, the tension generated by the consciousness of guilt.

These interrelations are at once so complicated and so important that, at the risk of repeating myself, I should like to tackle them from a different angle. The chronological sequence, then, would be as follows: first, renunciation of the drives, resulting from fear of aggression from the external authority (for this is what fear of the loss of love amounts to, love being a protection against this punitive aggression), then the setting up of the internal authority and the renunciation of the drives, resulting from fear of this authority, fear of conscience. In this second situation an evil deed is on a par with an evil intention; hence the consciousness of guilt and the need for punishment. The aggression of the conscience continues the aggression of the external authority. This much is probably already clear, but what room is let for the influence of misfortune–renunciation imposed from without–which reinforces the conscience, for the extraordinary severity of conscience that is found in the best and most tractable persons? We have already explained both these peculiarities of conscience, but we probably still have the impression that our explanations fail to go to the heart of the matter and leave some things unexplained. And here at last an idea comes in that belongs entirely to psychoanalysis and is foreign to our ordinary way of thinking. This idea is such as to enable us to understand why the subject was bound to strike us as so confused and lacking in transparency. For it tells us that although it is at first the conscience (or, rather, the fear that later becomes the conscience) that causes us to renounce the drives, this causal relation is later reversed. Every renunciation of the drives now becomes a dynamic source of conscience; every fresh renunciation reinforces its severity and intolerance; and if we could only bring it more into harmony with what we know about the emergence of conscience, we should be tempted to endorse the paradoxical statement that conscience results from the renunciation of the drives, or that this renunciation (imposed on us from without) creates the conscience, which then demands further renunciation.

The contradiction between this statement and what we have said about the genesis of the conscience is not so very great, and we can see a way of reducing it further. For greater ease of presentation let us take the example of the aggressive drive, and let us assume that we are dealing in every case with the renunciation of aggression. This is naturally to be taken only as a provisional assumption. The effect that the renunciation of the drives has on the conscience is such that any aggression whose satisfaction we forgo is taken over by the super-ego and increases the latter's aggression (towards the ego). This is not consistent with the view that the original aggression of the conscience continues the severity of the external authority and has therefore nothing to do with renunciation. The inconsistency is removed, however, if we assume a different origin for the super-ego's initial stock of aggression. A considerable measure of aggressivity must have developed in the child against the authority that deprives him of his first (and most significant) satisfactions, no matter what kind of deprivations were required. The child is obliged to forgo the satisfaction of this vengeful aggression. He helps himself out of this difficult economic situation by recourse to familiar mechanisms. By means of identification he incorporates this unassailable authority into himself; it now becomes the super-ego and takes over all the aggression that, as a child, one would have liked to exercise against it. The child's ego has to content itself with the sad role of the authority–the father–which has been so degraded. As so often happens, the original situation is reversed. 'If I were the father and you the child, I should treat you badly.' The relation between the super-ego and the ego amounts to the return, distorted by the subject's desire, of the real relations between the once undivided ego and an external object. This is typical too. The essential difference, however, is that the original severity of the super-ego is not–or not to such a great extent–the severity that one has experienced from him [the father] or attributes to him; it represents rather one's own aggression towards him. If this is correct, one can actually maintain that conscience initially arose through the suppression of an aggressive impulse and continues to be reinforced by similar suppressions.

Which of these two views is correct–the earlier one, which we found genetically incontestable, or the newer one, which rounds of the theory in such a welcome fashion? Clearly both are justified, as is shown by the evidence of direct observation. They do not contradict each other; they even coincide at one point, for the vengeful aggression of the child will be determined partly by the amount of punitive aggression he expects from his father. Experience teaches us, however, that the severity of the super-ego that is developed by a child in no way replicates the severity of the treatment he has himself experienced. It appears to be independent of this: even with a very lenient upbringing, a child may develop a very stern conscience. Yet it would also be wrong to exaggerate this independence; it is not difficult to convince oneself that a strict upbringing also has a strong influence on the formation of the child's super-ego. This amounts to saying that, in the formation of the super-ego and the emergence of conscience, innate constitutional factors act in concert with influences from the real environment. This is not at all surprising; indeed, it is the universal aetiological condition for all such processes.[*]

One can also say that if a child reacts to the first great frustrations of the drives with excessive aggression and a corresponding severity of the super-ego, it is following a phylogenetic model and going beyond the reaction that would be justified today; for the primeval father was certainly terrible and could be credited with the utmost aggression. The differences between the two views of the genesis of conscience are thus reduced still further if one shits one's attention from individual to phylogenetic development. On the other hand, we become aware of a new and significant difference between these two developmental processes. We cannot get away from the assumption that the sense of guilt stems from the Oedipus complex and was acquired when the brothers banded together and killed the father. On that occasion aggression was not suppressed, but acted out–the same aggression whose suppression in the child is supposed to be the source of his sense of guilt. At this point I should not be surprised if the exasperated reader were to exclaim, 'so it's immaterial whether one kills one's father or not–one acquires a sense of guilt in any case! Here one may take leave to voice a few doubts. Either it is not true that the sense of guilt derives from suppressed aggression, or else the whole story of the killing of the father is a fiction, and primeval children did not kill their fathers any more often than children do today. Besides, if it is not a fiction, but a plausible piece of history, it would be a case of something happening that everybody expects to happen–of someone feeling guilty because he really has done something that cannot be justified. And for such cases, which after all occur every day, psychoanalysis still owes us an explanation.'

This is true, and the matter must be remedied. Nor is there any great mystery about it. If one has a sense of guilt after committing a misdeed, and because one has committed it, this feeling ought rather to be called remorse. It relates only to a deed, although of course it presupposes that before the deed there was already a conscience, a readiness to feel guilty. Such remorse can therefore never help us to discover the origin of conscience and of the sense of guilt generally. What usually happens in these everyday cases is that a need generated by a drive acquires sufficient strength to prevail over a relatively weak conscience and achieve satisfaction; once satisfied, the need is naturally reduced, and the previous balance of forces is restored. Psychoanalysis is therefore right to exclude from the present discussion the case of a sense of guilt that stems from remorse, however common it is and however great its practical importance.

But if man's sense of guilt goes back to the killing of the primeval father, this too was a case of 'remorse'. So should we suppose that conscience and a sense of guilt did not exist before the deed was done? Where did the remorse come from in this case? Undoubtedly this case should clear up the mystery of the sense of guilt and put an end to our embarrassments. And I believe it does. This remorse was the result of the primordial emotional ambivalence towards the father: his sons hated him, but they also loved him. Once their hate was satisfied by this act of aggression, their love manifested itself in the remorse they felt for the deed. Through identification with the father, this love established the super-ego, endowed it with the power of the father–as though to punish the act of aggression committed against him–and invented restrictions that would prevent its repetition. And since aggressivity towards the father recurred in succeeding generations, the sense of guilt remained too, and was reinforced whenever aggression was suppressed and transferred to the super-ego. Now, I think, we can at last grasp two things quite clearly: the part played by love in the emergence of conscience and the fateful inevitability of the sense of guilt. Whether one has killed one's father or refrained from doing so is not really decisive; in either case one is bound to feel guilty, for the sense of guilt is the expression of the conflict of ambivalence, the unending struggle between Eros and the destructive drive, the death drive. This conflict is fanned as soon as people are faced with the task of living together. So long as the family is the only form of communal life, the conflict is bound to express itself in the Oedipus complex, to establish the conscience and to create the primordial sense of guilt. When an attempt is made to extend the community, the conflict is continued in forms that depend on the past; it is reinforced, and leads to an increased sense of guilt. Because civilization obeys an internal erotic impulse that requires it to unite human beings in a tightly knit mass, it can achieve this goal only by constantly reinforcing the sense of guilt. What began in relation to the father is brought to fruition in relation to the mass. If civilization is the necessary trend of development that leads from the family to humanity as a whole, it follows that the intensification of the sense of guilt, perhaps to a degree that the individual finds hard to endure, is indissolubly linked with it, as a consequence of the innate conflict of ambivalence, of the perpetual contention between love and the death-wish. One is reminded of the poet's poignant indictment of the 'heavenly powers':

Ihr führt ins Leben uns hinein,

Ihr lasst den Armen schuldig werden,

Dann überlasst iht ihn der Pein,

Denn jede Schuld rächt sich auf Erden.

[You lead us into life, you let the poor man become guilty, then you deliver him to punishment, for all guilt is avenged on earth.]

And one may well breathe a sigh of relief when one recognizes that it is nevertheless given to a few human beings to produce the most profound insights, more or less effortlessly, from the maelstrom of their own feelings, while we others constantly have to grope our way forward through agonizing insecurity.

————————————————————

* Any perceptive person will understand and take into account the fact that the present synopsis makes sharp distinctions where the real transitions are more gradual, that it is not just a question of the existence of the super-ego, but of its relative strength and its sphere of influence. After all, what has so far been said about conscience and guilt is generally known and hardly disputed.

* The part played by misfortune in the promotion of morality is the subject of a delightful short story by Mark Twain, The first melon I ever stole. This first melon chanced to be unripe. I heard Mark Twain read the story himself. After reading out the title he stopped and asked himself: 'Was it the first?' That said it all: the first was not the only one.

* In Psychoanalyse der Gesamtpers8nlichkeit (1927) Franz Alexander has accurately assessed the two main types of pathogenic methods of upbringing, over-strictness and over-indulgence, in connection with Aichhorn's study of delinquency. The 'excessively soft and indulgent' father will cause a child to form an excessively severe super-ego, because the child, influenced by the love it receives, has no other way of dealing with its aggression than by turning it inwards. In the delinquent who has been brought up without love there is no tension between the ego and the super-ego: all his aggression can be directed outwards. Hence, if one disregards any constitutional factor that may be presumed to exist, one can say that a strict conscience arises from the interplay of two influences on a person's life: the frustration of the drives, which unleashes aggression, and the experience of being loved, which turns this aggression inwards and transfers it to the super-ego.

8

Having reached the end of a road like the present one, the author must beg his readers' forgiveness for not being a more skilful guide and for not sparing them a number of dreary stretches and tiresome detours. It can undoubtedly be done better. I will now try, rather late in the day, to make some amends.

In the first place, I suspect, the readers will have the impression that the discussions of the sense of guilt distort the framework of this essay, in that they take up too much space and push the rest of the content, with which they are not always closely related, to one side. This may have disturbed the structure of the study, but accords entirely with its intention, which is to present the sense of guilt as the most important problem in the development of civilization and to show how the price we pay for cultural progress is a loss of happiness, arising from a heightened sense of guilt.[*]

Whatever still seems strange about this proposition, the final conclusion of our study, can probably be traced back to the quite peculiar relationship, which still is far from understood, between the sense of guilt and our consciousness. In the common instances of remorse that we regard as normal, the sense of guilt makes itself clearly perceptible to the consciousness; indeed, we often speak of a 'consciousness of guilt' instead of a 'sense of guilt'. From the study of neuroses, to which, after all, we owe the most valuable pointers to an understanding of what is normal, a number of contradictions emerge. In one of these disorders, obsessional neurosis, the sense of guilt forces itself stridently on the consciousness, dominating both the clinical picture and the patient's life, and allowing hardly anything else to appear beside it. In most other forms of neurosis, however, it remains quite unconscious, though the effects it produces are not for that reason any less important. Patients do not believe us when we tell them they have an 'unconscious sense of guilt', and so, to make ourselves to some extent intelligible, we speak of an unconscious need for punishment, in which the sense of guilt expresses itself. How ever, its connection with one form of neurosis should not be overstated, for even in cases of obsessional neurosis there are some types of patient who are unaware of their sense of guilt, or who experience it only as a tormenting malaise, a kind of anxiety, when they are prevented from carrying out certain actions. One day we should be able to understand these things, but at present we cannot. At this point it might be useful to remark that the sense of guilt is fundamentally nothing other than a topical variety of anxiety; in its later phases it merges completely with fear of the super-ego. In the case of anxiety too we find the same extraordinary variations in its relation to consciousness. It is present in some way behind all the symptoms, though sometimes it seizes control of the whole of the consciousness, while at other times it is completely hidden, so that we have to speak of an unconscious anxiety or–if we wish to retain a clear psychological conscience, anxiety being initially only a feeling–of 'possibilities of anxiety'. Hence, it is quite conceivable that even the sense of guilt engendered by civilization is not recognized as such, but remains for the most part unconscious, or manifests itself as an unease, a discontent, for which other motivations are sought. The religions, at least, have never ignored the part that a sense of guilt plays in civilization. Moreover–a point I failed to appreciate earlier–they claim to redeem humanity from this sense of guilt, which they call sin. From the way in which this redemption is achieved in Christianity–through the sacrificial death of one man, who thereby takes upon himself the guilt shared by all–we drew an inference as to what may have been the original occasion for our acquiring this primordial guilt, which also marked the beginning of civilization.

It cannot be very important, though it may not be entirely superfluous, to elucidate the meanings of a few terms such as 'super-ego' , 'conscience' , 'sense of guilt' , 'need for punishment' and 'remorse' , which may often have been used too loosely and interchangeably. They all apply to the same relationship, while denoting different aspects of it. The super-ego is an authority that we postulate, and conscience a function that we ascribe to it, along with others–this function being to supervise and assess the actions and intentions of the ego, to exercise a kind of censorship. The sense of guilt, the harshness of the super-ego, is thus identical with the severity of the conscience; it is the ego's perception of being supervised in this way, its assessment of the tension between its own strivings and the claims of the super-ego. Fear of this critical authority–a fear that underlies the whole relationship and amounts to a need for punishment–is the manifestation of a drive on the part of the ego, which has become masochistic under the influence of the sadistic super-ego and devotes a portion of its inherent drive for internal destruction to establishing an erotic bond with the super-ego. One should not speak of conscience until the super-ego can be shown to exist. As for the sense of guilt, one has to admit that it predates the superego, and therefore the conscience. At this early stage it is a direct manifestation of the fear of external authority, an acknowledgement of the tension between the ego and this authority, a direct derivative of the conflict between the need for its love and the urge for the satisfaction of the drives, the inhibiting of which generates aggressivity. The superimposition of the two layers of the sense of guilt–the one due to fear of the external authority, the other to fear of the intemal authority–has greatly hampered our understanding of the relations that the conscience enters into. Remorse is a general term for the reaction of the ego in cases that involve a sense of guilt; it contains, in largely unaltered form, the emotional material of the anxiety that is at work behind the sense of guilt. It is itself a punishment and may involve the need for punishment. Thus it too may pre-date conscience.

Nor can there be any harm in reviewing the contradictions that have temporarily confused us in the course of our investigation. At one point it was said that the sense of guilt resulted from an act of aggression that had not been carried out, while at another–and precisely at its historical inception, the killing of the father–it was said to derive from one that had been. We managed to find a way out of this difficulty. With the institution of the internal authority, the super-ego, the situation changed radically. Before this, the sense of guilt had been identical with remorse, a term that should properly be reserved for the reaction that follows the acting out of aggression. After this, thanks to the omniscient super-ego, the distinction between intended and fulfilled aggression lost its force. A sense of guilt might now result not only from a violent deed that was actually performed–as everyone knows–but also from one that was merely intended–as psychoanalysis has discovered. Despite the new psychological situation, the conflict of ambivalence between the two primal drives still produces the same effect. There is an obvious temptation to seek here the solution of the problem posed by the varying relation of the sense of guilt to consciousness. A sense of guilt that arises from remorse for an evil deed should always be conscious, whereas one that is prompted by the perception of an evil impulse might remain unconscious. Yet it is not as simple as that: obsessional neurosis emphatically contradicts this view. The second contradiction was that, according to one view, the aggressive energy that we ascribe to the super-ego merely perpetuates the punitive energy of the external authority and preserves it in the mind, whereas according to another view it is one's own unused aggression, directed against this inhibiting authority. The former view seems to accord more with the history, the latter more with the theory of the sense of guilt. Detailed consideration has succeeded almost too well in resolving this apparently irreconcilable contradiction; what remains as the essential common factor is that both involve internalized aggression. Again, clinical observation actually allows us to distinguish between the two sources of aggression that we ascribe to the super-ego, but in any given case either the one or the other may produce the stronger effect, though as a rule they act in concert.

This is, I think, an appropriate place at which to enter a serious plea for a view whose provisional acceptance we recommended a short while back. In the latest analytic literature we find a predilection for the view that the sense of guilt is, or may be, intensified by any kind of frustration–if satisfaction of any drive is thwarted. I think we gain a substantial theoretical simplification if we take this to apply only to the aggressive drives. Little will be found to conflict with this assumption. For how are we to explain, dynamically and economically, a heightening of the sense of guilt that appears when there is an unsatisfied erotic demand? This seems possible, after all, only if we presume a circuitous route–if the prevention of erotic satisfaction provokes aggressivity towards whoever interferes with it, and if this aggressivity then has to be suppressed. But then only the aggression is converted into a sense of guilt by being suppressed and transferred to the super-ego. I am convinced that we shall be able to represent many processes more simply and transparently if the findings of psychoanalysis relating to the origin of the sense of guilt are restricted to the aggressive drives. In this case, examination of the clinical material does not yield an unambiguous answer: in accordance with our hypothesis, the two kinds of drive almost never appear in their pure form, mutually isolated. However, a study of extreme cases will no doubt point in the direction I anticipate. It is tempting to derive an initial advantage from this more restricted view by applying it to the process of repression. As we have discovered, the symptoms of neuroses are essentially substitutive satisfactions for unfulfilled sexual desires. In our analytic work we have been surprised to find that perhaps every neurosis conceals a certain measure of unconscious guilt, and this in turn intensifies the symptoms by using them as a punishment. It now seems plausible to formulate the following proposition: when a drive is repressed, its libidinal elements are converted into symptoms and its aggressive components into a sense of guilt. Even if this thesis only approximates to the truth, it still merits our interest.

Some readers may feel that they have heard the formula of the struggle between Eros and the death drive too often. It was meant to characterize both the cultural process undergone by humanity and the development undergone by the individual; moreover, it was said to have revealed the secret of organic life in general. It seems imperative to investigate how these three processes relate to one another. Now, the recurrence of the formula is justified as soon as one considers that the development of human civilization and the development of the individual are both vital processes and must there fore partake of the nature of life in the most general sense. On the other hand, the very universality of this feature means that proof of its presence is of no help in differentiating these processes, unless it is narrowed down by particular conditions. Hence, we can be content only with the statement that the process of civilization is a special modification of the life process that is under gone by the latter under the influence of a task that is set by Eros at the instigation of Ananke (the exigency of reality)–the task of uniting discrete individuals in a community bound together by libidinal ties. However, if we focus our attention on the relation between the civilization of mankind and the development or upbringing of the individual, we shall conclude, without much hesitation, that the two processes are very similar in kind, if not indeed one and the same process, as it affects different kinds of object. Human civilization naturally belongs to a higher order of abstraction than the development of the individual; it is therefore harder to apprehend in concrete terms, and the search for analogies should not be compulsively pursued to excess. Yet in view of the similarity of the aims–the one being to create a unified mass consisting of many individuals, the other to integrate the individual into such a mass–the similarity of the means used in the two processes and the similarity of the resultant phenomena will come as no surprise. There is one distinction between the two processes that is of such extraordinary significance that it must not remain unmentioned any longer. In the development of the individual, the programme of the pleasure principle, aimed at the attainment of happiness, remains paramount. Integration into a community, or adaptation to it, seems a scarcely avoidable condition; it has to be met if the goal of happiness is to be reached. Perhaps it would be better if this were possible without such a condition. In other words, the development of the individual seems to be a product of the interaction of two trends–the striving for happiness, which we commonly call 'egoistic', and the striving for fellowship within the community, which we call 'altruistic'. Neither term goes much below the surface. In the development of the individual, as we have said, the emphasis falls mostly on the egoistic striving for happiness, while the other process, which we may call 'cultural', is usually content with a restrictive role. In the process of civilization things are different: the aim of forming a unified whole out of individual human beings is all-important. True, the aim of happiness is still present, but it is pushed into the background; it is almost as though the creation of a great human community would be most successful if there were no need for concern with individual happiness. There may thus be particular features in the development of the individual that are not matched in the process of civilization; the former need coincide with the latter only in so far as its aim is to incorporate the individual into the community.

Just as the planet still circles round its sun, yet at the same time rotates on its own axis, so the individual partakes in the development of humanity while making his own way through life. To our dull gaze, however, the play of forces in the heavens seems frozen in a changeless order, while in the field of organic life we can still see how the forces contend with one another, and how the conflict yields ever-changing results. In the same way the two strivings–for individual happiness and for human fellowship–have to contend with each other in every individual; so too the processes of individual and cultural development are bound to come into conflict and dispute each other's territory. But this struggle between the individual and society does not derive from the no doubt irreconcilable antagonism of the primal drives, Eros and death; it indicates a conflict in the economy of the libido, which may be compared with the conflict regarding the distribution of the libido between the ego and its objects. It admits of an eventual accommodation within the individual, such as we may hope for in the future of civilization, however oppressive it may be at present in the life of the individual.

The analogy between the development of civilization and that of the individual can be significantly extended. One can justifiably maintain that the community too evolves a super-ego and that the development of civilization takes place under its influence. Anyone who is conversant with different civilizations may find it tempting to pursue this equation in detail. I will confine myself to drawing attention to a few striking points. The super-ego of a cultural epoch has an origin not unlike that of the individual; it rests upon the impression let behind by the personalities of great leaders, people who were endowed with immense spiritual or intellectual power or in whom some human striving found its strongest and purest, and hence often most one-sided, expression. In many cases the analogy goes even further, in that in their lifetime these figures were quite often, though not always, mocked and abused by others, or even cruelly done to death–just as indeed the primeval father did not attain divinity until long after he was done to death. The most poignant example of this fateful link is the figure of Jesus Christ–unless this figure is mythological and was called into being on the basis of an obscure memory of that primeval event. A further point of agreement is that both the cultural and the individual super-ego make stern ideal demands, and that failure to meet these demands is punished by 'fear of conscience'. Here, indeed, we encounter a curious phenomenon: the relevant mental processes, when seen in the mass, are more familiar, more accessible to our consciousness than they can ever be in the individual. In the individual only the aggression of the super-ego makes itself clearly heard, when tension arises, in the form of reproaches, while the demands themselves often remain unconscious in the background. When brought fully into consciousness, they are seen to coincide with the precepts of the current cultural super-ego. At this point there seems to be a regular cohesion, as it were, between the cultural development of the mass and the personal development of the individual. Some manifestations and properties of the super-ego can thus be recognized more easily by its behaviour in the cultural community than by its behaviour in the individual.

After developing its ideals, the cultural super-ego sets up its demands. Among these, the demands concerned with the mutual relations of human beings are collectively known as ethics. A high value has always been placed on ethics, as though it were expected to perform exceptionally important services. And indeed it does address itself to the subject that is easily recognized as the sorest point in any civilization. Ethics is thus to be viewed as an attempt at therapy, an endeavour to achieve, through a precept of the super-ego, what has not so far been achievable through other cultural activities. As we know, the problem is how to remove the greatest obstacle to civilization, the constitutional propensity of human beings to mutual aggression, and for this very reason we have a special interest in what is probably the most recent commandment of the cultural super-ego: 'Love thy neighbour as thyself'. The study and treatment of neuroses lead us to level two reproaches against the individual super-ego: in the severity of its precepts and prohibitions it shows too little concern for the happiness of the ego, in that it fails to take sufficient account of the forces that oppose compliance with them, the instinctual strength of the id, and the difficulties that prevail in the real environment. For therapeutic purposes we are therefore often obliged to oppose the super-ego and attempt to lower its demands. We can make quite similar objections to the ethical demands of the cultural super-ego. This too is insufficiently concerned with the facts of man's psychical constitution; it issues a commandment without asking whether it can be obeyed. It assumes that it is psychologically possible for the human ego to do whatever is required of it, that the ego has absolute control over the id. This is an error. Even in people who are called normal, control of the id cannot be increased beyond certain limits. To demand more is to provoke the individual to rebellion or neurosis, or to make him unhappy. The commandment 'Love thy neighbour as thyself' is the strongest defence against human aggression and an excellent example of the unpsychological manner in which the cultural super-ego proceeds. It is impossible to keep this commandment; such a huge inflation of love can only lower its value, not remove the problem. Civilization neglects all this; it reminds us only that the harder it is to comply with a precept, the more merit there is in compliance. Yet in today's civilization, whoever adheres to such a precept puts himself at a disadvantage in relation to all who lout it. How potent an obstacle to civilization aggression must be if the defence against it can cause as much unhappiness as the aggression itself! In this situation, what we call natural ethics has nothing to offer but the narcissistic satisfaction of being able to think one is better than others. This is where ethics based on religion enters the scene with its promises of a better life hereafter. I am inclined to think that, for as long as virtue goes unrewarded here below, ethics will preach in vain. I have no doubt, too, that a real change in people's relations to property will be of more help here than any ethical commandment; yet the recognition of this fact among socialists has been obscured and made impracticable by a new idealistic misreading of human nature.

An approach that tries to trace the role of a super-ego in the phenomena of cultural development seems to me to promise further discoveries. I must hasten to a close, but there is still one question I can hardly avoid. If the development of civilization so much resembles that of the individual and operates with the same means, is one not entitled to proffer the diagnosis that some civilizations or cultural epochs–possibly the whole of humanity–have become 'neurotic' under the influence of cultural strivings? The analytic dissection of these neuroses might be followed up by suggestions for therapy that would merit great interest. I could not say that such an attempt to apply psychoanalysis to the cultural community would be absurd or doomed to futility. But one would have to be very cautious, remembering that one was dealing only with analogies, and that with concepts, as with human beings, it is dangerous to wrench them out of the sphere in which they originated and have evolved. Moreover, the diagnosis of communal neuroses comes up against a special difficulty: in the individual neurosis the first clue we have is the contrast between the patient and his supposedly normal environment. When it comes to a mass of individuals, all affected by the same condition, no such background is present; it would have to be borrowed from elsewhere. And as for the therapeutic application of the knowledge one obtained, of what use would even the most apposite analysis orasocial neurosis be, if no one had the authority to force the mass to undergo treatment? Yet despite all these difficulties we may be fairly sure that one day somebody will venture upon such a pathological study of cultural communities.

For a variety of reasons I have no wish whatever to offer an evaluation of human civilization. I have been careful to refrain from the enthusiastic prejudice that sees our civilization as the most precious thing we possess or can acquire, and believes that its path will necessarily lead us to heights of perfection hitherto undreamt of. I can at least listen, without bridling, to the critic who thinks that, considering the goals of cultural endeavour and the means it employs, one is bound to conclude that the whole effort is not worth the trouble and can only result in a state of affairs that the individual is bound to find intolerable. My impartiality is facilitated by my scant knowledge of such matters. There is only one thing that I know for certain: the value judgements of human beings are undoubtedly guided by their desire for happiness and thus amount to an attempt to back up their illusions with arguments. I should understand perfectly if someone were to stress the inevitability of human civilization and maintain, for instance, that the tendency to restrict sexual life, or to promote the humanitarian ideal at the expense of natural selection, were trends that could not be averted or deflected and that it was best to yield to them as if they were naturally ordained. On the other hand, I am familiar with the objection that in the course of human history such strivings, which we consider insurmountable, have often been cast aside and replaced by others. I therefore dare not set myself up as a prophet vis-à-vis my fellow men, and I plead guilty to the reproach that I cannot bring them any consolation, which is fundamentally what they all demand, the wildest revolutionaries no less passionately than the most well-behaved and pious believers.

The fateful question for the human race seems to be whether, and to what extent, the development of its civilization will manage to overcome the disturbance of communal life caused by the human drive for aggression and self-destruction. Perhaps in this context the present age is worthy of special interest. Human beings have made such strides in controlling the forces of nature that, with the help of these forces, they will have no difficulty in exterminating one another, down to the last man. They know this, and it is this knowledge that accounts for much of their present disquiet, unhappiness and anxiety. And now it is to be expected that the other of the two 'heavenly powers', immortal Eros, will try to assert himself in the struggle with his equally immortal adversary. But who can foresee the outcome?

————————————————————

* 'Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all…' That a modem upbringing conceals from the young person the role that sexuality will play in his life is not the only criticism that must be levelled against it. Another of its sins is that it does not prepare him for the aggression of which he is destined to be the object. To send the young out into life with such a false psychological orientation is like equipping people who are setting out on a polar expedition with summer clothes and maps of the North Italian lakes. This reveals a certain misuse of ethical demands. The severity of these would do little harm if the educators said, 'This is how people ought to be if they are to be happy and make others happy, but one must reckon with their not being like this.' Instead, the young person is led to believe that everyone else complies with these ethical precepts and is therefore virtuous. This is the basis of the requirement that he too should become virtuous.

目录

观念——《伟大的思想》代序

《伟大的思想》中文版序

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

通往契丹之路

忽必烈汗

从北京到孟加拉

The Road to Cathay

Kubilai Khan

From Peking to Bengal

返回总目录

图书在版编目（CIP）数据

马可·波罗游记：英汉双语/（意）马可·波罗（Polo， M.）著；苏桂梅译．—北京：中译出版社，2011．12

（企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想）

ISBN 978-7-5001-3325-4

Ⅰ．①马…　Ⅱ．①马… ② 苏…　Ⅲ．①英语—汉语—对照读物 ②游记—世界—中世纪　Ⅳ．①H319.4:K

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2011）第247565号

（著作权合同登记：图字01-2012-1435号）

www. penguin. com

The Travels first published in Penguin Classics 1958

This extract published in Penguin Books 2005

Translation copyright © Ronald Latham, 1958

Taken from the Penguin Classics edition The Travels,

translated and edited by Ronald Latham

Set by Rowland Phototypesetting Ltd, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk

出版发行 / 中译出版社

地　　址 / 北京市西城区车公庄大街甲4号物华大厦6层

电　　话 / （010）68359827；68359303（发行部）；68359725（编辑部）

邮　　编 / 100044　传　真 / （010）68357870

电子邮箱 / book@ctph.com.cn

网　　址 / http://www.ctph.com.cn

出版策划 / 张高里

责任编辑 / 梁 斐

封面设计 / 奇文堂·潘峰

排　　版 / 竹叶图文

印　　刷 / 保定市中画美凯印刷有限公司

规　　格 / 760×940毫米 1/32　印　张 / 5.75

版　　次 / 2012年3月第一版　印　次 / 2012年3月第一次

ISBN 978–7–5001–3325–4

“企鹅”及相关标识是企鹅图书有限公司已经注册或尚未注册的商标。

未经允许，不得擅用。

中译出版社与企鹅图书有限公司联合出版

观念

——《伟大的思想》代序

梁文道

每隔一段时间，媒体就喜欢评选一次“影响世界的X个人”或者“改变历史的X项发明”。然而，在我看来，几乎所有人类史上最重大的变革，首先都是一种观念的变革。

我们今天之所以会关注气候的暖化与生物多样性的保存，是因为我们看待地球的方式变了，我们比以前更加意识到人在自然中的位置，也更加了解自然其实是一个动态的系统。放弃了人类可以主宰地球的世界观，这就意味着我们接受了一个观念的变化。同样地，我们不再相信男人一出生就该主宰女人，甚至也不再认为男女之别是不可动摇的本质区分；这也是观念的变化。如果说环保运动和女权运动有任何影响的话，那些影响一定就是从大脑开始的。也不要只看好事，20世纪最惨绝人寰的浩劫最初也只不过是一些小小的观念，危险的观念。比如说一位德国人，他相信人类的进化必以“次等种族”的灭绝为代价……

这套丛书不叫“伟大的巨著”，是因为它们体积都不大，而且还有不少是抽取自某些名著的章节。可它们却全是伟大的观念，例如达尔文论天择，潘恩论常识，它们共同构成了人类的观念地图。从头看它们一遍，就是检视文明所走过的道路，从深处理解我们今天变成这个样子的原因。

也许你会发现其中有些陌生的名字，或者看起来没有那么“伟大”的篇章（譬如普鲁斯特追忆他的阅读时光），但你千万不要小看它们。因为真正重要、真正能够产生启蒙效果的观念往往具有跨界移动的能力，它会跨越时空，离开它原属的领域，在另一个世界产生意外的效果。就像马可·波罗在监狱里述说的异国图景，当时有谁料得到那些荒诞的故事会诱发出哥伦布的旅程呢？我也无法猜测，这套小书的读者里头会不会有下一个哥伦布，他将带着令人惊奇的观念航向自己的大海。

《伟大的思想》中文版序

企鹅《伟大的思想》丛书2004年开始出版。在英国，已付印80种，尚有20种计划出版。美国出版的丛书规模略小，德国的同类丛书规模更小一些。丛书销量已远远超过200万册，在全球很多人中间，尤其是学生当中，普及了哲学和政治学。中文版《伟大的思想》丛书的推出，迈出了新的一步，令人欢欣鼓舞。

推出这套丛书的目的是让读者再次与一些伟大的非小说类经典著作面对面地交流。太长时间以来，确定版本依据这样一个假设——读者在教室里学习这些著作，因此需要导读、详尽的注释、参考书目等。此类版本无疑非常有用，但我想，如果能够重建托马斯·潘恩《常识》或约翰·罗斯金《艺术与人生》初版时的环境，重新营造更具亲和力的氛围，那也是一件有意思的事。当时，读者除了原作者及其自身的理性思考外没有其他参照。

这样做有一定的缺点：每个作者的话难免有难解或不可解之处，一些重要的背景知识会缺失。例如，读者对亨利·梭罗创作时的情况毫无头绪，也不了解该书的接受情况及影响。不过，这样做的优点也很明显。最突出的优点是，作者的初衷又一次变得重要起来——托马斯·潘恩的愤怒、查尔斯·达尔文的灵光、塞内加的隐逸。这些作家在那么多国家影响了那么多人的生活，其影响不可估量，有的长达几个世纪，读他们书的乐趣罕有匹敌。没有亚当·斯密或阿图尔·叔本华，难以想象我们今天的世界。这些小书的创作年代已很久远，但其中的话已彻底改变了我们的政治学、经济学、智力生活、社会规划和宗教信仰。

《伟大的思想》丛书一直求新求变。地区不同，收录的作家也不同。在中国或美国，一些作家更受欢迎。英国《伟大的思想》收录的一些作家在其他地方则默默无闻。称其为“伟大的思想”，我们亦慎之又慎。思想之伟大，在于其影响之深远，而不意味着这些思想是“好”的，实际上一些书可列入“坏”思想之列。丛书中很多作家受到同一丛书其他作家的很大影响，例如，马塞尔·普鲁斯特承认受约翰·罗斯金影响很大，米歇尔·德·蒙田也承认深受塞内加影响，但其他作家彼此憎恨，如果发现他们被收入同一丛书，一定会气愤难平。不过，读者可自行决定这些思想是否合理。我们衷心希望，您能在阅读这些杰作中得到乐趣。

《伟大的思想》出版者

西蒙·温德尔

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

Penguin's Great Ideas series began publication in 2004. In the UK we now have 80 copies in print with plans to publish a further 20. A somewhat smaller list is published in the USA and a related, even smaller series in Germany. The books have sold now well over two million copies and have popularized philosophy and politics for many people around the world — particularly students. The launch of a Chinese Great Ideas series is an extremely exciting new development.

The intention behind the series was to allow readers to be once more face to face with some of the great nonfiction classics. For too long the editions of these books were created on the assumption that you were studying them in the classroom and that the student needed an introduction, extensive notes, a bibliography and so on. While this sort of edition is of course extremely useful, I thought it would be interesting to recreate a more intimate feeling — to recreate the atmosphere in which, for example, Thomas Paine's Common Sense or John Ruskin's On Art and Life was first published — where the reader has no other guide than the original author and his or her own common sense.

This method has its severe disadvantages — there will inevitably be statements made by each author which are either hard or impossible to understand, some important context might be missing. For example the reader has no clue as to the conditions under which Henry Thoreau was writing his book and the reader cannot be aware of the book's reception or influence. The advantages however are very clear — most importantly the original intentions of the author become once more important. The sense of anger in Thomas Paine, of intellectual excitement in Charles Darwin, of resignation in Seneca — few things can be more thrilling than to read writers who have had such immeasurable influence on so many lives, sometimes for centuries, in many different countries. Our world would not make sense without Adam Smith or Arthur Schopenhauer — our politics, economics, intellectual lives, social planning, religious beliefs have all been fundamentally changed by the words in these little books, first written down long ago.

The Great Ideas series continues to change and evolve. In different parts of the world different writers would be included. In China or in the United States there are some writers who are liked much more than others. In the UK there are writers in the Great Ideas series who are ignored elsewhere. We have also been very careful to call the series Great Ideas — these ideas are great because they have been so enormously influential, but this does not mean that they are Good Ideas — indeed some of the books would probably qualify as Bad Ideas. Many of the writers in the series have been massively influenced by others in the series — for example Marcel Proust owned so much to John Ruskin, Michel de Montaigne to Seneca. But others hated each other and would be distressed to find themselves together in the same series! But readers can decide the validity of these ideas for themselves. We very much hope that you enjoy these remarkable books.

Simon Winder

Publisher

Great Ideas

通往契丹[1]之路

大家必须明白，继成吉思汗之后第二个统治者是窝阔台汗，第三个统治者是巴图汗，第四个是贵由汗，第五个是蒙哥汗，第六个就是忽必烈汗。忽必烈汗比以往任何一个可汗都更伟大、更有实力。事实上，将其他五个可汗的力量加在一起也没有忽必烈拥有的力量强大，我还可以稍微夸张一点：世界上所有的皇帝以及基督徒和撒拉森人[2]的国王加起来也不具备这样强大的实力，或者有能力取得像忽必烈汗这样多的成就。我将在这本书中清楚地向大家证明这点。

大家应该知道，所有具有成吉思汗血统的大贵族死后都要被埋葬在阿尔泰山[3]。即便他们驾崩的地方离阿尔泰山有一百天的路程，也必须埋葬于此。还有一个值得注意的事实是：在大汗的遗体被运送到阿尔泰山的途中（大概为四十天的路程），所有在路上偶然遇到大汗送葬队伍的人，都将被护送灵柩的护卫杀死，并对他们说“去阴间服侍你的主人吧”！因为护卫们确信被他们杀死的人一定会在阴间成为可汗的奴仆。同样，当可汗驾崩时，他们会杀死可汗最好的马，以便让可汗在阴间也能拥有那些马。事实上，在运送蒙哥汗遗体的途中，有不止两千人因为偶遇送葬的队伍而被护送的士兵杀死。

既然已经提到了鞑靼人[4]，我就向大家多介绍一些他们的情况。他们会在草原和温暖的地区过冬，因为这些地区适合放牧，可以为他们的牲口提供牧草。当夏天来临时，他们会迁往大山或峡谷中比较凉爽的地区，因为那儿有充足的水源和林地供他们放牧，在凉爽的地区放牧的另一个好处就是没有马蝇和其他虻虫一样的害虫来侵扰他们的牲口。通常他们在一个地方放牧两三个月后，就继续向山上迁徙，因为如果只在一个地方放牧，那么任何一个牧场都不足以养活如此多的牲口。

他们的屋子是圆形的，用木头建成，上面搭着毡布。这些用木棍支成的框架排列整齐、构造巧妙，并且十分轻巧，便于携带。迁移时，他们可以将这些材料放在他们的四轮车上一起带走。他们每次搭建房屋时，门总是朝向南面。他们还有一种极好的两轮车，这种车用黑色的毡布做顶，设计非常巧妙，就算车外一直下雨，车内的东西也不会被雨淋湿。通常由牛和骆驼拉车，车内载着鞑靼人的妻子、孩子以及他们所需要的各种器物。

我向大家保证，鞑靼妇女负责经营各种买卖，她们还要做好所有丈夫和家庭所需要的事情。而男人们除了狩猎、战争和放鹰捕猎以外，其他的活都不用干。鞑靼人以肉制品和乳制品为主食，靠狩猎和捕捉草原上随处可见的土拨鼠为生。他们也吃马肉和狗肉，也不介意喝马奶，事实上，任何肉类他们都不会拒绝。男人们绝不会接触其他男人的妻子，因为他们十分清楚这么做是错误的、可耻的。他们的妻子也十分忠于自己的丈夫，并且擅长操持家务，即使一个家庭中有十个甚至二十个妻子，她们也会和睦团结地生活在一起，更听不到她们互相谩骂，这点是十分值得称赞的。妻子们通常都全身投入在各种各样的家务和对孩子的照顾中。对鞑靼男人来说，只要他们愿意，就可以娶很多妻子，即便是娶一百个，只要这个男人负担得起，也是可以的。娶妻时，丈夫需要给他妻子的母亲礼金，而妻子不用给丈夫任何东西。大家要明白，男人的第一个妻子被视为最优秀的，她拥有着比其他妻子更高的地位。由于鞑靼男人娶妻不受限制，所以他们的子女也比其他民族的男人要多得多。他们可以与自己的表妹或表姐结婚，并且当家庭中的父亲去世后，长子可以娶他父亲遗留的妻子，只有他的生母除外。当他们的兄弟去世后，他们也可以娶兄弟的妻子。每次娶妻，他们都会举行盛大的庆典。

接下来让我们看看鞑靼人的宗教信仰。他们信奉一个品格高尚、无比神圣的天神，每天都会向他焚香祈祷，只为祈求得到知识和健康。同时，他们还信奉一个叫纳蒂盖的神，他们认为他是一个俗世的神，掌管着他们的子孙、牲口和作物。他们非常尊重这个神，用毡布为神做了衣服，将他供奉在家中。他们还为这个神塑造了妻子和孩子，并将他的妻子摆放在他的左手边，将他的孩子摆放在他的前面。他们对这个神十分尊敬，每次吃饭前，他们都会用一块肥肉去涂抹神的嘴巴，然后再涂抹在他的妻子和孩子嘴边。他们还将肉汤洒在门外，让其他的神一同享用。做完这一切后，他们认为他们的神和神的家人已经享用得差不多了，然后才开始吃自己的食物。大家应该知道他们喝马奶，但是他们会将马奶加工成白色的酒，这种酒味道很好，他们把这种饮品叫做马奶酒。

鞑靼富人的服装极其奢华，由金丝银线或者名贵的皮毛，如黑貂皮、白貂皮或者狐狸皮等做成，他们的饰物同样精美和昂贵。他们的武器有弓、剑和棍棒，但最常用的是弓，他们个个都是杰出的射手。他们将水牛皮或者其他坚硬的兽皮做成的盔甲披挂在身上。

鞑靼人都是勇敢的战士，拥有过人的勇气和胆识。让我来解释一下他们有着怎样超越其他民族的忍耐力，必要的时候，在没有其他干粮的情况下，他们经常可以只靠马奶和猎物来维持整整一个月的生活。同时，他们的马只需要吃草，这样也就不用为马准备大麦和稻草。鞑靼人对他们的长官绝对服从，在需要的时候，他们可以拿着武器在马背上度过整个夜晚，同时他们的马儿边吃草边前进。他们是世界上最能忍受艰难困苦，而又仅需要最少成本来维持生活的人，因此他们是最适合征服别国的战士。

他们的军队按照下面的方法进行编制。当一个鞑靼人的首领带着十万骑手的队伍去征战时，他会这样来组织他们：他作为最高统帅，下设万夫长、千夫长、百夫长、十夫长；万夫长听命于最高统帅，千夫长听命于万夫长，百夫长听命于千夫长，十夫长听命于百夫长，这样一来，统帅就只需要直接指挥不超过十个万夫长，同样，其他的长官也只需要直接面对十个下属，每个下属也只对自己的长官负责。当统帅需要派遣士兵去执行任务时，他会直接对他手下的万夫长下达命令，要求他派出一千个士兵，此时万夫长就会再下令给他手下的某个千夫长，让他带领手下一千士兵去完成任务。命令就这样传达下去，每个万夫长都会按要求完成统帅的命令，每一级长官都会迅速接到指令并执行。鞑靼人对于他们长官的服从，比其他任何民族都做得要好。他们把一支十万人的军队叫做图克，把一支一万人的军队叫做图孟安。同样，千人、百人、十人的军队也有相应的名称。

不管是在平原还是山地，当鞑靼人的军队被派出去执行某项任务时，他们都会提前两日派出由两百人组成的队伍进行侦查，军队的后方和侧面也部署队伍，即前后左右共有四支队伍来负责侦查，这样就可以使他们免遭敌人的偷袭。

当鞑靼人的军队长途远征时，他们不携带任何包裹，每人只带两个装奶的皮袋，一个煮肉的小锅，一顶能避雨的简单的帐篷。如果有必要，他们可以马不停蹄地行军十日，并且不需要预备任何粮食，也不用生火，只靠喝马血活命，每次骑兵都会切开马的一根血管，然后吮吸马血。他们还这样制作干燥乳制品：首先将奶煮开，并在适当的时候刮下浮在表面的乳脂，放在另一个容器里做成黄油，这样一来就可以保证奶水不会变干；然后他们会将这些乳制品放在太阳下晒干。在长途行军时，他们每人带十磅这样的乳制品，每天早上会拿出半磅来，将它们放在一个像葫芦一样的皮袋中，再加上适量的水。在骑行过程中，乳制品就会分解，融化在他们喝的水中，这就是他们的早餐。

当鞑靼人与敌人战斗时，他们有惯用的战术。他们从来不以示弱为耻，作战方法十分灵活，一会儿从这个方向打击敌人，一会儿又从其他方向攻打敌人。他们的战马训练有素，可以像狗一样快速改变行动方向。被敌人追击时，他们也可以像和敌人正面作战时那样有效率。在他们快速逃跑时，同样可以转过身来用弓箭射伤敌人的马和骑手。这样，当敌人自认为已经打垮鞑靼人的军队时，他们会发现自己军队中的马和战士大都已经被鞑靼人杀死。而鞑靼人一旦确定已杀死足够多的追兵和战马时，他们就会掉头攻击敌人，从而完全取得战斗胜利。他们已经运用这种战术赢得了无数的胜利，打败了无数民族和国家。

以上我告诉大家的都是纯正的鞑靼人的做法和传统。但是现在他们已经退化了，那些生活在契丹的鞑靼人已经适应了佛教徒的风俗礼仪，放弃了他们的信仰；而生活在黎凡特[5]的鞑靼人已经被撒拉森人同化了。

接下来我要告诉大家鞑靼人主持正义的方式。对于小额盗窃罪不至死的罪犯，根据犯罪的轻重程度，盗窃者会受到一定数目的杖责，如七下、十七下、二十七下、三十七下、四十七下或一百零七下，许多人死于这种鞭打。而当盗窃犯偷了一匹马或者其他应处以死刑的物品时，就会被劈成两段。当然，如果他可以承担所偷东西价值九倍的赔偿，就可以免遭惩罚。

鞑靼人的大贵族和其他人都会拥有很多牲畜，包括战马、母马、骆驼、公牛、母牛和其他牲畜，主人都会在这些牲畜身上烙上自己的标记，然后将它们放至平原和山坡上吃草，而不需要任何牧人看管。如果这些牲畜混在一起，他们也可以通过牲口身上的标记分辨出它们的主人是谁，然后物归原主。他们的绵羊和公羊是托给牧人看管的。鞑靼人所有的牲口都体型健硕、高大肥壮。

鞑靼人还有一个和其他民族不一样的习俗：当一个鞑靼男人有一个已经死去的儿子（有可能在四岁时就死亡），而另一个男人有一个已经死去的女儿时，他们可以给死去的男孩、女孩安排一段婚姻，并会起草婚约。然后他们烧掉这份婚约，并坚信烧掉婚约时燃起的烟雾会在另一个世界里找到他们的孩子，孩子们会从风中得到他们已经结为夫妇的消息。他们还会举行盛大的婚宴，到处分发食物，宣告他们的孩子已经在另一个世界里结成夫妇。此外，他们还要将一些奴隶、马、衣服、钱币和家居用品画在纸上，然后烧给他们死去的儿女，他们认为，这些东西都将在另一个世界里成为他们儿女的财产。当做完这些事情以后，他们就认为彼此已经结成亲家，和儿女在世时结成的亲家一样。

到现在为止，我向大家描述了鞑靼人最质朴的风俗习惯。我还没讲的是鞑靼人的伟大领袖大汗建立的光辉业绩和他的王朝，这些我将在书中根据时间和地点慢慢告诉大家，这的确是值得好好来描述的奇妙事情。在这里，让我们顺着刚才的线索，重新回到那辽阔的平原，讲述鞑靼人所留下的历史。

旅行者离开哈喇昆仑和前面所说的埋葬鞑靼人可汗的阿尔泰山，继续北行，将横穿过一个叫做巴尔古平原的地方，这大概要走上四十天。这里的居民被称为墨斯克力蒲特人，这是一个野蛮的种族，靠兽类维持生活，主要是他们用来乘骑的驯鹿。他们的风俗习惯和鞑靼人很相似，也同样臣服于大汗。他们不生产农作物，也没有酒。在夏季，有许多鸟兽供他们猎食，但是在冬季，由于极其严寒，鸟兽都不能在此生存。在夏天鸟类换毛的季节，这些鸟尤其喜欢聚集在湖、池塘、沼泽等有水源的地方，当它们换下所有羽毛时是不能飞行的，所以此时捕猎者可以捕捉到很多鸟。同样，这个族群也靠捕鱼为生。

在经过四十天的跋涉后，旅行者就可以到达海边。游隼会在这里的山中筑巢。大家要知道，这儿既无人烟，也无鸟兽，只有一种叫做巴格拉克的鸟供猎鹰捕食。这种鸟的体型和鹧鸪相似，有着和鹦鹉一样的爪子，燕子一样的尾巴，还有着超强的飞行能力。当大汗想要得到雏鹰时，就会派人来这里寻找。海洋中的岛屿生长着这些矛隼。我肯定这个地区非常靠北，以至于北极星都朝向了南面。在这个地方，栖息着大量矛隼，因此大汗想要多少就能捉到多少。大家不要以为一些基督教国家的人给鞑靼人的矛隼最后被送给了大汗，实际上，他们将这些矛隼送给了地中海沿岸诸国的可汗，或者像阿鲁浑[6]大汗这样的人。

……

离开这些省市，继续向前走三天，我们就会到达一个叫做张加诺[7]的城市，那儿有一座很大的大汗行宫。由于这里河湖密布，并有许多天鹅栖息于此，因此大汗十分喜欢在此居住。这儿还有肥沃的平原，栖息着许多鹤、野鸡、鹧鸪和其他野生禽类。大汗是一个热衷于运动并且十分喜欢放鹰行猎的人，所以这个地方对大汗就更有吸引力了。这里的鹤有五种：第一种有着像乌鸦一样纯黑的羽毛，体型十分庞大；第二种羽毛是纯白的，翅膀十分优美，上面点缀着圆圆的斑点，就像孔雀一样，只是斑点是亮亮的金色，它们还有着红黑相间的头和黑白相间的长长的脖子；第三种和我们最常见的鹤一样；第四种鹤体型很小，耳边上有着长长的羽毛，红黑相间，十分美丽；最后一种羽毛大都是灰色的，只是头部为红黑两色，体型较大。

这个城市的附近有一个山谷，大汗在这里饲养了不计其数的鹧鸪。为了喂养它们，大汗下令每年夏天都定期在山坡上种植粟子和这些鸟类喜欢的其他谷物，并且不容许任何人收获这些作物，以保证这些鸟类有足够的食物。大汗还派看守照看这些鸟，保护它们不被其他人或动物捕捉；冬天，看护者还会撒布粟子喂鸟。由于这些鸟习惯了被饲养，当饲养者把谷物撒在地上后，只要吹哨子，它们就会从四面八方向他飞来。大汗还下令修建许多小屋，供这些鸟类夜间栖息。这样一来，每次大汗游历到此地，都会有许多鸟禽供大汗玩乐。由于这里冬季严寒，大汗不会在此过冬，而此时正是鸟禽漂亮丰满的季节，于是，大汗就会用骆驼将这些鸟禽带去他所在的地方。

当旅行者离开这个城市，继续向东北走上三天后，就会到达上都[8]，它是忽必烈统治时建造的都城。在这里，忽必烈用大理石和其他美丽的石头建成了一座巨大的宫殿，殿堂和房间都是镀金的，装饰得富丽堂皇。宫殿的一面延伸到城市的中心，另一面紧靠城墙，在城墙的背面，也就是宫殿的反方向，延伸出另一面城墙，围出了一片近十六英里的公园，公园被清泉和溪流环绕，使这片美丽的草地得到了充分的灌溉。除了宫殿，再没有其他的路可以到达这个公园。在这里，大汗饲养了各种动物，如雄鹿、雄獐等，用来给他的猎鹰捕猎。在这里，光矛隼就有两百多只，大汗每周都会视察这些鹰笼里的猎鹰，也会经常带上一只豹子，骑着马，当觉得时机已到，就把豹子放出去，让它去捉雄鹿或者雄獐，然后把它捕到的猎物拿去喂鹰，这就是他的休闲和运动。

在这个封闭的公园中间，有一个风景优美的小树林，大汗在这儿也修建了一个大行宫，这个行宫完全由竹子建成，但是宫殿内部都是镀金的，并且用精美的鸟兽图案作为装饰。行宫由镀金的柱子支撑，每个柱子上都画有一只龙，龙尾朝下，龙身向上盘绕在柱子上，龙足支撑着宫殿顶部。顶部也是由竹子编成，被涂上了漆，因此能够防水。我来解释一下这座行宫是如何建成的。大家要知道，这些竹子的周长大概有三个手长，高度大概十到十五步那么高，它们被从中间劈开，这样就有了两个用来做屋顶的竹板，这些竹板又厚又长，不仅可以用来做屋顶，还可以用来建造行宫的任何部位。就这样，整个行宫都是由这些竹子建造的。为了防风，每个竹条都用钉子固定。这种行宫由两百多根坚韧的细绳拴住，由于它被设计得如此巧妙，所以可以随时分拆，在大汗需要的时候搭建。

每年的六、七、八月，大汗都会停留在上都，一方面为了避暑，另一方面也为了休养娱乐。在这三个月中，大汗都住在由竹子搭建的行宫里，其他时候，这座行宫就会被拆除，需要时再搭建起来。

每年八月二十八日，大汗就会离开这个城市，离开这所行宫，我会告诉大家，大汗为什么每年都会选择这个特定的日子离开。事实上大汗有一群纯白的无杂色的马群，马群的规模十分大，仅母马就不下一万只。没有皇族血统的人没有权利喝这些白色的母马所产的奶，只有一个例外，就是一个叫霍里阿德的家族。因为他们在过去的战争中立下了汗马功劳，所以成吉思汗授予他们家族特权，允许他们饮用这种马奶。当这种白马在吃草时，任何人都不敢去打扰它们，即使是一个大贵族要经过这条路，也绝不会从马群中间穿过，而是等到马群吃完后或者绕过马群再继续前进。一些占星家和信奉神灵的人们告诉大汗每年的八月二十八日，他都必须用这种白马的奶酿成的酒来进行祭奠，将这种酒洒在天空中，洒在大地上，以祭奉他们崇拜的神灵。他们认为大汗必须通过这样的祭奉，来保卫他所有的财产、臣民、鸟兽、作物等。

出于以上原因，大汗每年都会在这个时候离开上都，前往别的地方。在我们跟随他离开之前，让我再向大家讲述一件奇怪的事情。当大汗所在的行宫下雨或者乌云密布时，占星家和巫师们会施展他们的技能和巫术来驱散行宫上方的乌云和大雨，这样即使行宫周围的天气十分恶劣，行宫上方的天气也很好。这些法师被叫做特贝斯[9]和克施密特，这是信奉神灵的民族。他们比普通人知道更多魔法和巫术。他们所做的事情似乎是魔鬼的行为，但让别人认为他们所做的一切都是圣洁的，都是上帝的旨意。他们肮脏污秽，不注重自己的容貌，也不在意别人对他们的看法，他们经常不洗脸，不梳头，总是生活在肮脏之中。我还要告诉大家这些人的一个独特风俗，当一个人被处以死刑后，这些人会将尸体取走，煮熟尸体，然后吃掉，但是正常死亡的人他们是不会吃的。

这些巫师也被叫做巴克斯[10]。还有一件不可思议的事情。一次，大汗坐在高高的大殿上用膳，他位置高于大殿地面约八腕尺[11]，而杯子放在大殿的地板上，盛满了酒、奶和其他美味的饮品，这些巴克斯运用他们的巫术和技巧，让这些盛满各种饮品的杯子在没有任何人接触的情况下，自动从大殿的地面升起，并移动到大汗面前。这些行为是在一万多人的注视下完成的，我向大家保证我所说的都千真万确，没有半点谎言。并且那些精通巫术的人证实，这是行得通的。

还有一件关于巴克斯的事情，每当祭祀神明的日子来临时，他们都会向大汗禀报：“陛下，祭祀我们神明的日子就要临近了”，然后他们随便报出几个神灵的名字，然后接着说：“您知道，如果这些神明不享受到祭典，他们就会让我们的天气变糟，损害我们的财产、牲口和谷物。因此我们恳求陛下赐予我们足够的黑头羊、香料和燃料，多多益善，让我们来举行庄严的祭祀，以求得神明的保佑。”他们将这些奏报给大汗手下的官员，再由这些官员向大汗请奏，等到大汗准奏，这些巴克斯就能得到他们要求的祭品了。然后他们就开始载歌载舞进行祭祀仪式。他们会使用大量香料；会将肉煮熟后摆放在神明面前，并将肉汤洒在地上，通知神明来享用。这就是巴克斯在祭祀典礼上向他们的神明表达尊敬的方式。

大家要知道，就和我们的圣人一样，所有的神明都有他们自己特定的节日。他们拥有极多的僧侣和寺院，寺中住着两千多名僧侣，像一个小城市一样，由于身份特殊，僧侣穿的通常要比其他人好。他们的头发和胡子也都要被剃掉。这些僧侣们为他们信奉的神明举行我们所未见过的盛大的祭祀，念经祈福。

此外，这些巴克斯还享有特权，其中之一就是他们可以根据需要娶妻，并生育很多后代。

除了巴克斯以外，还有一类叫做笙新的教徒。他们教规极其严格，生活也十分简朴，除了糠，不吃任何食物。他们将小麦制成的谷物放进热水里，使谷粒和谷壳分离，然后将谷壳磨成面粉，做成他们所吃的糠。他们也从来不在食物中加入任何作料。他们也信奉很多神明，他们中的很多人都拜火为神。其他教派的教徒都视这些禁欲者为异教徒，因为笙新教徒崇拜神明的方式与其他教徒很不相同。在两个教派之间，还有一个很大的不同之处：那些遵守严格教规的教徒是不允许娶妻的。他们同样会剃光头发和胡子，通常穿着麻布做成的黑色或蓝色的长袍，即使长袍是用丝绸做的，也仍然会是黑色或蓝色。他们睡在柳条编成的草席上，过着比世界上大多数人都简朴的生活。

由于他们崇拜的神明都是女性，他们都继承着女性的姓氏。

关于这些我们就讲到这里，接下来的故事更有趣，下面我将向大家讲述所有鞑靼人主人的主人——最高贵的大汗——忽必烈汗的伟大功绩。

注释

[1]契丹（Cathay）：我国古代民族，是东胡的一支，在今辽河上游西剌木伦河一带，过着游牧生活。10世纪初耶律阿保机统一各族，建立契丹国。——译者注

[2]撒拉森人（Saracens）：在早期的罗马帝国时代，撒拉森只用以指称西奈半岛上的阿拉伯游牧民族。后来的东罗马帝国则将这个名字套用在所有阿拉伯民族上。伊斯兰教兴起于西亚，特别在11世纪末期的十字军东征后，以基督教信仰为主的欧洲人，普遍用“撒拉森”来称呼所有位于亚洲与北非的穆斯林。在西方的历史文献中，撒拉森最常用来笼统地泛称伊斯兰的阿拉伯帝国。——译者注

[3]阿尔泰山（Altai）：亚洲宏伟山系之一，北西—南东走向，斜跨中国、哈萨克斯坦、俄罗斯、蒙古国境，绵延2000余公里。——译者注

[4]鞑靼人（Tartar）：操突厥语的民族之一，13世纪初，这些蒙古突厥游牧民族的不同群体成为蒙古征服者成吉思汗部队的一部分，其后蒙古人与突厥人混杂在一起，因而入侵俄罗斯和匈牙利的蒙古军队，就被欧洲人统称为鞑靼人。——译者注

[5]黎凡特（Levant）：指中东托罗斯山脉以南、地中海东岸、阿拉伯沙漠以北和美索不达米亚以东的一大片地区。——译者注

[6]阿鲁浑（Arghun，约1258—1291）：第四代蒙古族伊儿汗。——译者注

[7]张加诺（Chagan-nor）：今白城子。——译者注

[8]上都（Shang-tu）：位于今内蒙古自治区锡林郭勒盟正蓝旗境内，多伦县西北闪电河畔。——译者注

[9]特贝斯（Tibetans）：即西藏人，藏族信仰大乘佛教。大乘佛教吸收了藏族土著信仰本教的某些仪式和内容，形成具有藏族色彩的“藏传佛教”。藏族对活佛高僧尊为上人，藏语称为喇嘛，故藏传佛教又被称为喇嘛教。——译者注

[10]巴克斯（Bakhshi）：一种特殊的宗教人群，像多米尼加人或者济修士。——译者注

[11]一腕尺约十八英寸。——译者注

忽必烈汗

下面我就将为大家讲述忽必烈汗的伟大功绩。“可汗”用我们的语言来说就是“伟大的众王之王”的意思，而忽必烈汗完全无愧于这个称号。大家要知道，不管是从隶属于他的国家，还是从他控制的疆土，甚至是他拥有的财富方面来说，从古至今，没有任何国王能超越忽必烈汗，他可以说是世界上拥有最大权力的人。在这本书中我将给大家一个真实清晰的描述，让大家相信忽必烈汗的确是世界上最伟大的国王。

首先，大家要知道，忽必烈汗是成吉思汗的直系后代，是所有鞑靼人公认的首领。他是继成吉思汗后，鞑靼人的第六位大汗，于公元1256年继位[1]并开始他的统治。尽管他的亲属和兄弟从中阻挠，忽必烈汗还是凭借自己的勇气与智慧赢得了王位。从他继位到现在（公元1298年）已经有四十二年的时间了，他也有八十五岁了。成为可汗以前，忽必烈经常参加军事征战，在战争中他证明了自己不仅是一个英勇的战士，同时也是一个伟大的统帅。但在继承王位后，除了在1286年的那次亲自出征外，就没有再亲自参加过战斗，我将向大家描述那次出征的情况。

忽必烈有个叫做那彦的叔叔。他很年轻，拥有许多领土，统治着很多城市，并且有一支由四十万骑兵组成的军队。那彦和他的祖先一样，都臣服于大汗，但是由于他只有三十多岁，年轻气盛，手下又有很多士兵，所以决定不再听命于大汗，而是去夺取大汗的皇位。那彦派出使者去勾结另一个实力强大的首领海都，海都是忽必烈的侄子，由于反对过忽必烈，忽必烈一直对他怀恨在心。那彦建议海都从一侧攻击大汗的军队，而他自己则从另一侧发起攻击，两侧夹击，打败大汗。海都欣然接受了那彦的建议，并且向那彦保证，一定会在指定的日期调集好十万大军来对抗大汗。这样，那彦和海都这两位亲王就做好了准备，召集好人马，准备对大汗宣战。

当大汗得到这个消息时，并没有手忙脚乱，而是英明果断地召集自己的军队，并且宣称，叛乱不平，他就不会再当大汗。他用了二十二天的时间秘密完成了战斗的准备工作，除了他的智囊团之外没有任何人知道。他集合了二十六万骑兵和十万步兵，这些士兵都是从离他较近的地区调集而来的。虽然大汗还有许多军队，但是离他较远，来不及调集。如果大汗调集了他全部的军队，那么他军队的数量将是不可估计的。此时的三十六万大军，大都由大汗的养鹰者和他的自卫队组成。

如果大汗要召集在契丹各省所有的军队，需要三十到四十天的时间，海都和那彦就一定会得到消息，这样一来，他们就会调集军队，抢占要害关口。而大汗打算以速度取胜，先单独攻打那彦，破坏他的准备活动，这样比攻击他和海都的联军要容易得多。

大家要知道在契丹和蛮子各省及大汗统治的其他地区，有很多人对大汗不满、不忠于大汗，只要他们有机会，他们就会起来反抗大汗。因此，在每个规模较大的城市和人口较多的省份，大汗都要派兵驻守。这些驻兵驻守在离城市四到五英里的乡村里，这些开放的乡村不允许有城墙，并且允许人们自由进出。这些驻军和他们的首领都是两年一换。有了这些控制措施，大汗的臣民才得以安分守己，不敢制造任何骚动和叛乱。这些军队除了依靠大汗每年从全国收入中拨出的军费生活外，还会把他们的牛群送到城镇卖掉，换钱以维持军需。这种军队有很多驻点，相隔距离各不相同，有的相距三四十天的距离，有的相隔六十天的距离。

大汗仅仅召集了上述军队中的一小部分后，他就去询问占星家，想知道他是否能打败敌人，取得战斗的胜利。占星师向他保证，他可以轻松打败敌人。这样，大汗就派出了军队，日夜兼程，经过二十天的行军到达了那彦驻军的大草原，那彦在这儿聚集了四十多万骑兵。由于大汗派人一路看守行军的道路，任何经过的人都会被拦截，因此当大汗的军队在一个清晨到达这个大草原时，那彦的军队对此一无所知。事实上，当大汗的军队到达时，那彦正和他最心爱的妻子躺在军营里。

第二天黎明，大汗的军队突然出现在平原的一个小山坡上，而那彦的军队还十分自由散漫，丝毫没有意识到大汗的军队正在临近。事实上，他们认为自己非常安全，既没有派遣哨兵驻守他们的兵营，也没有士兵在大营的前后方巡逻。大汗站在一个木制的塔上，周围有许多弓弩手，木塔由四头大象驮着，每头大象都穿着用结实的皮革做成的盔甲，盔甲上又覆盖上一层用金子和丝做成的织品。木塔顶上高高飘扬着象征日月的皇旗，这样双方都能清楚看到。大汗的军队由三十个骑兵大队组成，每队都有一万个弓箭手。他们分为三组，分别从前方和两侧包围那彦的军队。每队骑兵的前面都有五百名拿着短矛和刀剑的步兵。每当骑兵撤退时，他们就会跳上马背，和他们一起撤退；当撤退被敌军阻挠时，他们就下马，挥矛杀死敌人的马。这就是双方军队靠近时，大汗设计的战斗阵型。

当那彦和他的军队发现大汗时，他们立即组织起来，匆忙拿起武器，整编军队，排列好阵型。

鞑靼人有这样的习俗，当双方军队面对敌人，排列好作战队形后，并不急于展开战斗，而是开始鸣唱，直到鼓声作响时才开始战斗。而在鼓声作响前，所有鞑靼人都跟着乐器合唱，继而可以听到很多乐器混合的声音和士兵刺耳的歌声。

当双方军队都准备就绪后，大汗的军队首先敲响战鼓，双方骑兵立刻展开激战，兵戎相见。他们的武器有弓、剑、木棍和长矛。步兵也手持横弓和其他武器参与战斗。而这只是这场残酷血腥战争的开始，不久，战场中就箭如雨下，尸横遍地，声盖雷鸣。大家要知道那彦是一个受过洗礼的基督徒，在这场战争中，他用十字架作为自己军队的旗帜。

这是一场前所未有的残酷的战斗。在我们的历史上，从未有过这么多骑兵投入一场战斗中。双方死伤不计其数。战斗从拂晓打到中午，很长时间里双方都相持不下。由于那彦是一位慷慨的首领，他的追随者对他都十分忠诚，宁可战死沙场也不愿背叛自己的主人。可是，最后的胜利属于忽必烈。当那彦和他的手下觉得军队支持不了太久时，他们企图逃跑，但是最终还是被擒拿，他的官员和军队也都向大汗投降了。

大汗得知那彦被囚后，下令处死他。那彦被紧紧裹在一条毯子里，然后被系在马后，在地上拖拽至死。选择这种方法处死那彦，是因为这样一来皇室的血就不会洒溅到大地上，暴露在太阳和空气之中。

在大汗取得战争的胜利后，那彦的残余势力也都誓死效忠于大汗，他们大都是女真、卡利、巴斯克尔、西亭基四省的居民。

大汗的士兵来自很多民族，比如撒拉森人、犹太人和佛教徒，他们都不信仰上帝，战争胜利后他们就嘲笑那彦军旗上的十字架。他们嘲讽基督徒：“瞧瞧你们上帝的十字架是怎么保护基督徒那彦的！”这些话传到大汗耳朵里后，大汗当面斥责那些嘲笑者，然后他召集了很多基督徒，安抚他们：“你们的上帝没有保护那彦，是因为上帝只站在善良和正义的一边。那彦是背叛君主的叛徒，是非正义的，而你们的上帝不会保佑对抗正义的人。”基督徒们回应道：“吾主圣明，陛下所言极是。上帝是不会像那彦一样犯下滔天大错的，那彦实在罪有应得。”这就是大汗和基督徒关于那彦的十字旗的对话。

战争胜利后，大汗凯旋，回到了他的首都汗八里[2]，那里被喜悦和快乐的气氛包围着。

当另一个造反的亲王——海都听说那彦战败并被处死的消息后，心慌意乱，生怕自己会有同样的下场，立刻取消了叛乱的计划。

大汗回到汗八里时正值十一月，大汗将在这儿一直住到第二年的二三月，也就是我们的复活节时期。大汗得知复活节是我们最重要的节日之一，就将所有的基督徒都召集来，并要他们将四大福音书献给他。在举行了盛大的仪式，反复香熏四大福音书后，大汗虔诚地亲吻了这部书，并且要求他的亲王和首领们也亲吻此书。他在基督徒的重大节日，如复活节、圣诞节时，总会这么做。而在撒拉森人、犹太人和佛教徒的重大节日时，他也会做相似的事情。当被问及原因时，大汗总是说：“有四位被人崇拜和被世界尊敬的先知：基督徒信仰上帝耶稣，撒拉森人崇拜真主穆罕默德，犹太人信奉摩西，而佛教徒信奉释迦牟尼大佛。我尊重他们所信奉的神，并向他们中最伟大的神祈求帮助。”但是从大汗自己的表现来看，他认为基督徒是最好的，因为基督徒所做的一切都是仁慈和圣洁的。他不允许基督徒手持十字架，因为这让他想到伟大的耶稣所遭受的苦难。

大家也许会问，既然大汗认为基督教是最好的宗教，那他自己为什么不去信仰基督教呢？这也许可以从大汗对波罗兄弟[3]所说的话中找到答案。当大汗将他们作为使者派去教皇那儿时，他们不时地向大汗提到这个问题，大汗回答说：“你们是站在谁的立场上想让我成为基督徒呢？你们知道这个国家的基督徒都是如此的无知，既没有任何成就，也没有任何权力。而佛教徒却可以做任何他们想做的事情：当我坐在大殿上时，他们可以在没有任何人接触的情况下，把各种酒和饮品从大殿中间送到我的面前。他们可以驱逐坏的天气并且拥有许多神奇的功能。当他们向佛祖祈求帮助时，佛祖还会给予他们指引。但是，如果我信仰基督教，成为一个基督徒，那么我的亲王和其他不信仰耶稣的人就会对我说：‘是什么促使您接受洗礼，信仰基督教的呢？’这些佛教徒就会说他们所做的各种事情，并说他们的佛祖是最圣洁高尚的。这样一来我就无法回答了，而这些在艺术上和科学上都有如此多成就的佛教徒就可以轻易谋害我。如果你们见到教皇，请求他派来一些有学识的基督徒，当这些基督徒面对那些佛教徒时，可以当面斥责他们的巫术，并且告诉那些佛教徒，他们所做的基督徒一样可以做到，只是因为那些都是邪恶的行为，所以不会去做，然后向佛教徒展示你们基督徒的法力。这时我就会废除他们的宗教，接受洗礼，我所有的亲王、贵族以及他们的部下也都会和我一样接受洗礼。这样一来，这里的基督徒将会比你们国家的基督徒还要多。”如果真如上所说，教皇派出有能力的教徒来向大汗传教，大汗一定会成为一个基督徒，因为这才是大汗真正想信仰的宗教。

大家已经从这次战役中知道了大汗是如何打仗的，在其他战役中，大汗通常是将他的儿子或亲王们派上战场，但是这次，他却亲自指挥，可以看出他对亲王叛乱的重视和愤怒。让我们先把这个话题放下，再来详述大汗的丰功伟绩。

我已经向大家讲述了大汗的血脉和年龄。现在我们来讲讲大汗是如何奖罚在战斗中表现勇敢或胆怯的官兵的。对于前者，大汗将他们中的百夫长提升到千夫长，将千夫长提升到万夫长，还根据他们的级别，慷慨赏赐给他们银质的象征权力的奖牌。百夫长会得到一个银牌；千夫长得到一个镀金的奖牌；而万夫长则得到一个刻有狮子头的金牌。百夫长、千夫长的奖牌每个重一百二十萨吉；万夫长的奖牌重二百二十萨吉。每个奖牌后都刻有这样的文字：“借伟大的神赐予的力量，以及他对我们皇帝的无限慈悲，保佑我们的大汗，逆命者斩。”所有拥有这些奖牌的人也被授予各种权力，由官员记载下来。

对于十万军队的首领，大汗赐予他们重三百萨吉的金质奖牌，奖牌后也刻着上面所提到的文字。在奖牌下端，刻着一只位于日月之上的狮子。同时十万军队的首领还能享受到极大的特权，当他骑马出门时，头顶可以撑伞，以象征他高贵的地位；当他就坐时，他必须坐在银质的椅子上。对另外一些地位高贵的人，大汗同样赐予刻有白隼的奖牌，这些奖牌通常赐予亲王们，他们可以动用所有的力量，当他们想要发送快信或是派送使者时，他们甚至可以使用大汗的马匹，这实际上也就意味着，他们可以使用任何人的马匹。

下面我们来看看忽必烈汗的外表。他中等身材，不高不矮，四肢匀称，面色红润，有着乌黑俊亮的眼睛和端正高挺的鼻子。

大汗有四个合法的妻子，这四个妻子中任何一人所生的长子在可汗驾崩后都有权继承皇位。她们都是皇后，并且各有一座宫殿。她们每人都有不下三百名的美丽侍女，还有许多宦官和其他男女侍从，这样一来，每位皇后都有近万人服侍。当大汗想要和她们中的一位共寝时，他就会召皇后进宫，或者是亲自前往皇后的宫殿。

除了四位皇后，大汗还有许多妃子。大汗领土中有个省，在那儿居住的鞑靼人被叫做翁古特，这个省也同样叫做翁古特。翁古特的居民都十分美丽，皮肤光滑。根据大汗的旨意，大概每隔两年，大汗都会派人去翁古特，按照他的要求为他挑选美丽的未婚女子。有时候会挑选四五百人，人数的多少都由大汗决定。选拔是这样进行的：当使者到达时，他们集中翁古特的所有未婚少女，然后派人前去考察。在仔细检查她们的头发、容貌、眉毛、口齿、嘴唇和其他部位，并观察身体是否协调、匀称后，挑选的使者会根据她们的美丽程度给她们打分，从十六分、十七分、十八分到二十几分不等。若大汗要求他们将得到二十分或者二十一分的女子带到宫中，她们的数量达到时，这些使者的使命也就完成了。当她们被带到宫中后，大汗会派另外一组评价者继续来考察她们，然后选出三十到四十个得分最高的女子，带到他的寝宫侍奉。大汗派亲王的妻子们夜间在这些女子的房间里仔细观察她们，以确保她们的处女之身不被任何人玷污和侵犯，确认她们睡觉时没有鼾声，并且呼吸轻柔，身体没有任何异味。通过的少女被分为六组，每组在可汗的寝宫和床上侍奉三天三夜，满足大汗所有的要求。而大汗可以随意支配她们。三天三夜之后，就由另一组少女来侍奉大汗，这样一直轮换一年。当其中一组少女在大汗的寝宫内侍奉大汗时，其他的几组少女就在寝宫外面守候。如果大汗需要任何东西，比如食物或酒，这些在寝宫里面侍奉的少女就会传话给外面的人，而屋外的少女就会马上去准备。这样一来，侍奉大汗的责任就全由这些少女担当。对于剩下的得分较低的少女，她们仍然会留在皇宫中，被分派去做针线、剪裁等其他体面的工作。当一些贵族要娶妻时，大汗就将她们赐予这些贵族，并给她们配上丰厚的嫁妆。这样，大汗就将她们都体面地嫁给了贵族。

大家可能会问：“翁古特的男人们不会认为大汗这样抢走他们的女儿是不公平的吗？”大部分人当然不会这么认为。他们将这视为大汗对他们的偏爱和恩宠。那些有着漂亮女儿的人会很高兴大汗会屈尊接受他们的女儿。他们这样说到：“如果我的女儿命好，大汗会赐予她一个高贵的丈夫，这将会比我能给她的好得多。”如果他们的女儿表现得不好，没有得到很好的归宿，她们的父亲会说：“这是因为她的命不好才会这样。”

大家要知道，大汗的四个妻子一共为大汗生下了二十二个儿子。长子叫做真金，是为了纪念成吉思汗而取的名字。他被指定为皇位继承人，但是他不幸去世了，留下一个儿子叫做铁穆耳，由于铁穆耳是皇太孙，所以他将继承皇位。就像他在多次战斗中表现出来的一样，铁穆耳是个智勇双全的人。

除了大汗妻子所生的儿子以外，大汗的妃子还为他生下了二十五个儿子，他们都是勇敢的战士，伟大的亲王。

大汗妻子所生的儿子中，有七个都当上了广大省区和王国的国王。他们都将王国统治得很好，审慎而又英勇。而这都是有原因的，因为他们的父亲忽必烈汗在各个方面都是最英明能干的，是鞑靼人历史上最优秀的统治者和品德最高尚的人。

大家要知道每年十二月、一月和二月这三个月，大汗都住在契丹国的首都——汗八里。大汗在这座城里有座雄伟的宫殿，我将向大家描述这座宫殿。

这座宫殿完全被正方形的城墙围绕，每面城墙长一英里，这样所有的城墙就共有四英里长。城墙很厚，并且有十步长那么高，被刷成白色，上面有城垛。在城墙的每个角上都有一个美丽壮观的城堡，是大汗储藏军备的地方。在每面城墙的中间也都有和四个角上一样的城堡，这样整个城墙上就共有八座这样的城堡，均作为军械库使用。每个城堡里都存放着一种特定的兵器，因此，当一个城堡里储存着马鞍、马缰、马镫和其他马具时，另一个城堡里就放着弓、弓弦、箭袋、箭和其他射箭所需要的物品，而第三个城堡就保存着胸甲、甲胄和其他坚硬的皮制盔甲。其他城堡储存的东西依次类推。

南面的城墙上有五扇门，最大的一扇门在中间，只供大汗进出；大门的两边各有两扇小门，供其他人进出。南面城墙的两个角上也各有一扇更大的门，也供其他人进出。

外墙的里面还有一层城墙，比外墙要宽一些。它和外墙一样有八个用于储存军备的城堡，朝南开的五扇门和外墙的五扇门相对应，两侧也各有一扇门。

这个城墙里面就是我将向大家描述的大汗的宫殿。这座宫殿比我所见过的任何宫殿都要宏大。宫殿只有一层，但是地基高出地面有十掌高；周围被一圈和地基一样高并且大概两步宽的大理石包围。这样就在宫殿外形成了一个平台，方便士兵巡逻和视察宫殿外面的情况。平台的外侧是由圆柱装饰成的精美的走廊，人们可以在此交谈。宫殿的每面都有一个大理石做的楼梯，从地面通向大理石城墙的平台，供进入宫殿的人们使用。

宫殿非常高，大殿和房间的墙上都覆盖着由金银装饰成的龙、凤、骑兵、各种鸟兽和战争场景的图案。天花板也同样被装饰了，因此整个大殿显得富丽堂皇。大殿十分宽敞，可容纳六千人同时进餐。同时宫殿还有不计其数的房间。整个建筑能立刻给人极好的感觉，布局精良，世界上再无人敢认为自己有能力建造出这样的建筑，也没有人能对这个建筑提出任何设计上的改进。屋顶外部被红黄蓝绿各种颜色装饰着，并像水晶一样闪耀着五颜六色的光芒，在很远的地方就能看到。屋顶也十分坚固，久经岁月洗礼。

皇宫的后面还有一些宫殿，也有许多房间和走廊，是大汗存放私人财产的地方。这儿存放着大汗的金银珠宝，同样也是大汗的皇后和妃子居住的地方，这些宫殿里所有的布置安排都是为了大汗的舒适和方便，外人是不允许进入的。

两层城墙的中间是宽敞的公园用地，种着笔直的树木。这儿的草都长得极其茂盛，由于所有小路的铺建都整整高于地面两腕尺，这样一来草地上就没有污泥和积水，雨水涓涓地流过草坪，流向两侧，滋润着土壤，滋养着小草，让它们繁茂生长。在这些公园里饲养着各种各样美丽的动物，如白鹿、麝鹿、雄獐、雄鹿、松鼠等。总之，在两墙中间的这片公园里，除了供人行走的小路外，满是这些可爱的生物。

在这片土地的西北角，有个大而深的凹坑，设计得十分巧妙，从凹坑中挖走的土都被用来建造小山，一条小溪的水流入凹坑中形成了一个池塘，池塘里的水可供动物们饮用。同时，小溪里的水还顺着小山旁的水渠流出，注满了另一个相似的凹坑，这个凹坑位于大汗的宫殿和他儿子真金的宫殿中间，凹坑里的土同样被挖出来修建成小山。大汗在池塘里养了很多种类的鱼，当他想吃鱼时，就可以从池塘中选择。池塘更远处是小溪的出口，在小溪的出口和入口都装着铜铁制成的栅栏，可以防止鱼儿逃走。池塘中还有天鹅和其他水禽。小溪上有一座桥，方便从一座宫殿通向另一座宫殿。

皇宫北面大约一箭尺的距离，大汗大兴土木，建造了一座一百步高的山，山脚周长有一英里。这座山上栽满了茂密的常青树，大汗只要听说哪儿有独特的树木，不管树有多大，他都会派人将树连着根和周围的土壤一起挖出，然后用大象把它运到这座山上来。这样他就把整个国家最好的树木都集中到了这儿。同时，他在山上铺上了天青石（一种绿色的石头），使得树和石头都是绿色的，整座山除了绿色没有其他的颜色，由此得名为青山。在山顶上，大汗还建造了一座精美的宫殿，整座宫殿也同样是绿色的，和青山绿树相映衬，形成了一幅赏心悦目的图画。大汗建造这座宫殿既是为了美观，也是为了在此休闲娱乐。

在大汗皇宫的边上，还修建了一座和皇宫一样的宫殿，这是太子的宫殿。由于太子是要继承皇位的，所以他的宫殿和皇宫的风格、规模、大小都一样。皇位的继承人铁穆耳——真金的儿子，居住在这里。由于他被选作忽必烈汗的继承人，所以他和大汗享用着同等规模的礼仪。虽然皇帝的公文和大印已经归他所有，但是只要忽必烈汗还健在，他就不能随心所欲地使用他的权力。

我已经描述完了这些宫殿，下面我将向大家介绍它们所在的城市大都，及其建立的原因和方法。

汗八里位于契丹的一条大河旁边，是一座古老壮观的城市，这个名字在我们的语言中就是“帝都”的意思。大汗通过占星师们的预测，认为这座城市将会发生反叛，对抗皇权。因此大汗在河的对岸又修建了一座新城，并给这座新城取名为大都。他命令旧城中的居民都搬到新城，只留下那些他认为没有任何反叛迹象的人，因为新都中没有足够多的房子容纳旧都所有的居民。

新都呈正方形，周长有二十四英里。它被土筑的城墙围绕，有二十步高。城墙底部宽十步，从底部向顶部逐渐变窄，到了顶部大概就只有三步宽了。城墙上有城垛并被涂成白色。城墙一共有十二扇门，每扇门旁边都有一座漂亮宏伟的建筑物守卫，算上每个角上的建筑物，城墙的四面每面都有三扇门和五个守卫的建筑物。每座建筑物里都有很大的大厅，用来贮藏守城士兵的武器。

城里的街道又宽又直，从城墙的顶部一眼看去，就能看到整条道路一直延伸到对面的城门。城里到处都是官邸、客栈和平民居住的房屋。主要街道的两旁有着各式各样的货摊和商店。城中所有建筑用地都按照规定被划成四方形，每块地都有充足的空间来修建带有后院和花园的宽敞住宅。这些地皮被分给每户的户主，这样一块地属于一位户主，另一块地属于另一位户主，所有土地都这样分配。每块地和街区都被一条条马路包围，这样整个城市就被一块块方形的土地编排得像一个棋盘，如此巧妙精致，以至于无法用语言描述。

城里、城外都有着不计其数的居民和房屋，事实上城郊外的居民要比城里的居民还多。每个城门外都有一片城郊，一片连一片，长度大概有三四英里。城郊离城内一英里的地方，有很多为各地商人提供住所的客栈。每个国家的人都被指定住在一种客栈，比如一种客栈专门供巴伦人居住，另一种指定给德意志人，还有一种供法兰西人使用。来这儿做生意的商人很多，一方面因为可汗提供了住所，另一方面是可汗为大家提供了一个有利可图的市场。除了可汗的宫殿外，城郊也有着和城里一样华丽的房屋和住宅。

大家要知道，人们去世后都不能被埋葬在城里。如果佛教徒归天，他的遗体将会被带到城郊外的一个地方火葬；其他人去世后也一样，他们的遗体会被带到城郊外的地方埋葬。同样地，任何暴力行动都会被带到城外执行。

城内的妓女都是非法的，而城郊则有近两万名妓女。她们有一个总管，下面又有管百人、千人的官员。每当有大使为了大汗的利益来时，大汗对他们都十分慷慨，会吩咐妓女总管，让他每天晚上给大使和他的随从们各派一名妓女。这些妓女每天都换，并且她们不收取任何费用，只把这当做向大汗纳的税。从这些妓女的人数大家就能大概推断出每日往返于他们业务的商人和访客的数量了。

被运往汗八里的珍贵奢华的物品比被送往其他城市的都多，宝物主要是从印度运来的，有宝石、珍珠和其他罕有的宝物。它们都是契丹和其他各省最珍贵，最昂贵的珍宝。这些宝物被大汗自己、贵族、贵妇、众多的客栈主人和其他居民以及被大汗盛情接待的访客所买走。这就是这些进口货物和国内生产的货物在城里的交易在总量上和价值上都能超过其他城市的原因。每天都有不下千担的丝被运到城里，城中还有各种用金银线制成的织物。不仅如此，汗八里旁，远近还有两百多个其他的城市，那儿的商人也会来到城里进行买卖交易。所以，城中有这么多来来往往的人也就不足为奇了。

城市的中央有一座高大钟楼，上面有一口大钟，每天晚上钟声敲响三次后，人们就不能在城中闲逛了。除了一些紧急情况，比如孕妇分娩和有人生病以外，任何人都不敢随意走动。那些有急事要出行的人也必须点着灯笼。每晚都有三十或四十人一组的士兵在城中巡逻，查找那些在三声钟响后还在外面的人。如果发现有人在街上，他就会立刻被逮捕，关进监狱。第二天，会有长官了解他外出的原因，如果他被认为有罪，就会根据情节的轻重处以杖责，而这些杖刑有时候是会致命的。采取这种处罚方式，可以避免受刑人流血，因为根据他们专于星象的巴克斯的说法，让人流血是罪恶的行为。

每一个城门有不下千人守卫，大家不要以为这是对城内居民的不信任。事实上，这一部分出于对大汗的尊重，另一方面也是为了防止有人叛乱。由于占星家们的预言，大汗对契丹旧城中的居民一直心存怀疑。

下面让我向大家描述一次城中契丹人的叛乱。这是一次有计划的行动。大汗曾经任命过十二个人，给予他们处置土地和任命官吏的大权，其中有一个撒拉森人，叫做艾哈迈德。他的精力和才能都很出众，比其他十一个人权力更大，并且深得大汗的信任，可以为所欲为。从他死了之后的事情可以看出，他是用邪恶的巫术蛊惑了皇帝，以至于让大汗对他言听计从，得以肆意妄行。他曾经掌管了一切任命官吏和惩治罪犯的权力。每次他想铲除不喜欢的人，不管是公正还是不公正，他都会向大汗禀报：“某人应该被处死，因为他做了一些事情触犯了您的王权。”而大汗则会说：“按你说的去做吧。”于是艾哈迈德就会处死此人。其他人看到大汗对他如此信任，给他如此大的权力，即使自己有再大的本事，也都不敢冒犯他。如果有被他诬告的人想为自己辩护，他也没有机会反驳或者澄清案情，因为他无法给出证据——所有的人都害怕得罪艾哈迈德。这样，艾哈迈德处死了许多无辜的人。

此外，被他看上的美丽女子，若是未婚的，就会被他强娶过来，若是已婚，他也会想方设法要她顺从。当他得知哪家的女儿容貌美丽时，他就会派手下的地痞流氓去找到她的父亲，然后说：“你有什么想法？不如把你的女儿给了艾哈迈德，我们可以帮你回禀一声，赏你一个三年的官做。”这样父亲就只有将他的女儿送给艾哈迈德。然后艾哈迈德就会向大汗禀报：“有某个职位空缺，或者将要于某时空缺，有谁正适合这份工作。”而大汗总会说：“按照你的意思办吧。”于是艾哈迈德就会把这个人安置做官。这样一来，部分由于父亲们的野心，部分由于他们的恐惧，这些漂亮的女子要不就被艾哈迈德娶走，要不就成了他的情人。艾哈迈德还有二十五个儿子，因为他而身居高官，他们中的有些人借着父亲的名义，像他们父亲一样强抢民女，还犯下了很多其他罪行。艾哈迈德还大肆收敛财物，因为每个想得到职位和官职的人都会向他进贡丰厚的财物。

艾哈迈德拥有和统治者一样的权力长达二十二年。在他统治下的契丹人，发现他不停地做着不正当和令人厌恶的事情，想尽办法蹂躏妇女，终于忍无可忍。他们决心刺杀艾哈迈德，并反对政府的统治。有一个叫张易的契丹人，是一个千夫长，他的母亲、女儿、妻子都曾经被艾哈迈德凌辱过。被强烈的仇恨所驱使，张易和一个叫王著的万夫长联合起来密谋反叛。他们打算在大汗结束在汗八里三个月的逗留前往上都后再采取行动，大汗通常在大都也要停留三个月，这时皇太子真金照例也会离开汗八里。而艾哈迈德就会留下来守城，只有在出现紧急情况时，才会派人传话给在上都的大汗。这两个密谋者决定将他们的计划告诉国家中契丹人的领导者，等到大家一致同意后，就告诉其他城中的朋友。他们的计划是在指定的一天采取行动，以烽火为信号，所有谋反者收到信号后，就立刻行动，杀死所有有胡须的人，然后通过烽火台将信号传递给其他城中的人，大家就会采取同样的行动。他们杀死所有有胡须的人，因为契丹人不留胡须，而鞑靼人、撒拉森人和基督徒则留有胡须。大家必须知道所有的契丹人都憎恨大汗的统治，因为大汗所任命的统治者都是鞑靼人或者撒拉森人，他们对待契丹人就像对待奴隶一样，让契丹人无法忍受。再加上大汗征服契丹是靠武力，而不是通过合法的方式。所以，大汗也没有得到契丹人的信任和尊重，并且他把统治的权力都交给鞑靼人、撒拉森人和基督徒，这些人依附皇族，忠于大汗，并视契丹人为异族。

当王著和张易在约定的一天夜间潜入皇宫后，王著就坐在王座上，在他面前点起许多灯火，然后派人去告诉艾哈迈德，太子真金在夜里突然返京，要他立刻前来觐见。当艾哈迈德听到这个消息后，虽然十分疑惑，但还是立刻前往。在他去面见太子的路上，他遇见一个叫科甲台的鞑靼人，他手下有一万二千士兵，负责城内日常的巡逻，他问艾哈迈德：“这么晚了，您还要去哪儿啊？”艾哈迈德回答道：“去面见太子真金，他刚到。”科甲台说：“怎么可能？难道他行动如此隐蔽，以至于我都没有听到任何消息？”于是他带着他手下的一小队人跟着艾哈迈德一同进宫。而此时谋反者对自己说道：“只要我们杀死艾哈迈德，就再没有什么好惧怕的了。”这时艾哈迈德进入了皇宫，看见宫中灯壁辉煌，误以为王著是真金，跪在了他的面前，一旁的张易立刻用手中的剑砍下了他的脑袋。

当在宫殿外守候的科甲台看到这种情况后，大叫一声：“叛乱！”然后用箭射向坐在王座上的王著，杀死了他。然后他吩咐手下抓住了张易，并立刻向全城宣告，城中任何人都不得出门，只要被发现，就地处死。契丹人见鞑靼人已经发现了他们的密谋，并且他们的首领一个被杀、一个被抓，就放弃了叛乱，都留在屋里，也就没有向其他城中准备反叛的人发出叛乱信号。科甲台立刻派人向大汗详细汇报所发生的事情，大汗即刻吩咐进行彻底调查，并且根据情节轻重惩罚叛乱者。第二天清晨，科甲台就审问所有契丹人，处死了许多同谋者，当发现城中的其他人也有叛乱意图时，也采取了同样的搜捕行动。

大汗回到汗八里后，想知道这次叛乱的原因，随后他得知了艾哈迈德父子的恶劣行径。大汗发现艾哈迈德和他的七个儿子娶了不计其数的妻妾，更不用说那些被强暴的妇女。于是大汗下令没收艾哈迈德搜刮的财物，并把它们从旧城运往新城，成为大汗的财产。这些财物之多令人难以想象。他还下令将艾哈迈德的尸体从坟墓中挖出来，扔到大街上让野狗撕咬，那些和艾哈迈德一样犯下滔天罪行的儿子们都被处以剥皮的刑罚。大汗还注意到了撒拉森人邪恶的教义，他们认为只要不是针对与他们同宗教的人，一切恶行，包括杀人都被看做合法的行为。出于此因，罪大恶极的艾哈迈德和他的儿子们根本没有意识到自己犯下的罪行，大汗对此深恶痛绝。他召集所有的撒拉森人到他面前，禁止他们按照自己的法律去行事。大汗还特别命令他们采取鞑靼人的婚姻制度；在猎杀动物时，不能像以前那样割断动物的喉咙，而是要剥开肚子。当这一切发生时，马可·波罗正好待在那儿。

至于那一万两千保卫大汗的士兵，他们被叫做卡西坦，也就是“大汗的骑士与臣子”。大汗拥有这支军队不是因为惧怕任何人，而是把这作为皇权的标志。这一万二千人被分为三组，每组三千人。每组士兵都要在大汗的宫殿驻守三天三夜，然后再轮换下一组驻守，整年就如此轮换。白天时，剩下的九千士兵不能离开皇宫，除非是受到大汗的指派或者是有很重要的私事，比如有很严重的事情发生，如父亲、兄弟、其他亲近的亲属即将去世，或者如果不立刻回去就会遭到巨大损失时，在经长官同意后，他才可以离开皇宫。而在晚上，这九千人是可以回家的。

大汗设宴的座次要这样安排：大汗坐北朝南，高高在上，皇后坐在他的左侧。右侧低一些的地方，按年龄大小坐着皇子、皇孙和其他皇室成员，太子真金的座位要高于其他皇子，并且他们的头和大汗的脚刚好在同一高度，而在他们旁边更低一些的地方是其他贵族的座位。妇女们也按同样的方式安排座次，皇媳、皇孙媳和其他亲王的妻子坐在大汗的左侧低一些的地方，贵族夫人和武官夫人的座位则被安排在她们左侧更低的地方。所有人都按照大汗的安排，坐在自己的位置上。这样的安排使得大汗可以看到大殿中所有的人。但是大家不要以为所有的人都有座位，大部分武官和贵族都要坐在地毯上就餐。而在大殿外参加宴会的人有四万之多，他们中有许多带着贵重礼物前来参拜的使者，有带来新鲜玩意的外国人，还有一些想加官进爵的人们。这些就是参加大汗恩赐的宴会，或者庆祝婚礼的人们和场景。

在大汗御案所在的大殿中央，摆放着一件方形器具，每边长约十步，十分精美大气。四面雕刻着栩栩如生的动物形象，并且都是镀金的，中间是空心的，放着盛满美酒的金质带把瓶装器皿。在每个角上各有一个小瓶，分别盛着马奶、骆驼奶等其他饮品。御案旁边摆放着盛放大汗饮品的各种容器。每个容器都用纯金制成，里面的美酒和珍贵的饮品倒进纯金的大酒壶中，足够八到十个人饮用。其中每两人中间都会放置一个酒壶，每人都有一个带把的金杯，用来盛放酒壶中的酒。对于妇女也是同样安排。这些酒壶和器皿都十分珍贵。大汗有如此之多的金银器皿，没有亲眼见到的人是无法想象的。在一旁服侍大汗进餐和饮酒的人都是大汗指定的男爵。他们用金丝制成的面纱遮住自己的嘴和鼻子，这样他们的气息和体液就不会污染大汗的食物和饮品。

还有一些男爵被派去照看那些新来的不了解大殿里规矩的客人，告诉他们应该坐在什么位置上。这些男爵一直在大殿中走动，询问客人们有什么需要，如果有谁需要酒、奶，或者其他东西，他们就立刻让侍者送来。大殿所有入口处都有两个身材魁梧、手持长棍的侍卫站在两边，因为进入大殿的人不允许踩到大殿的门槛，而只能跨过去。如果有人不小心踩到了门槛，两旁的侍卫就会拿走他的衣服，然后让他拿赎金来取；如果不拿衣服，他们就会给他一顿毒打。新来的宾客不知道这些规矩，那些指定的男爵就会被派去提醒他们注意。这样做是因为他们认为踩到门槛是不祥之兆。在大家离开大殿的时候，由于客人喝醉了酒，不那么注意，这时就没有这些规矩了。

大殿里有各种各样的乐器，当大汗要饮酒时，他们就开始演奏，拿着酒杯的侍从将酒奉上后，就后退三步，然后跪下，这时所有的男爵和宾客也都跪下，表现出对大汗的谦卑，直到大汗喝完酒。每次大汗要喝酒时，都会有这样的礼仪。至于食物，我不用多说，大家一定能够想象食物的充足。还要告诉大家，男爵和武官是不能在宴会上就餐的，但是可以带来他们的妻子同其他的妇人一起就餐。当所有人都就餐完毕后，桌子就被撤掉，魔术、杂技和其他项目的表演者就会进入大殿，带来丰富多彩的节目。他们在大汗面前竭尽全力表演，得到宾客们的阵阵掌声。当表演结束后，宾客们就离开大殿回住所了。

大家要知道，鞑靼人将自己的生日当做节日来庆祝。大汗的生日是农历九月二十八日。每年大汗都要在这一天举办除新年之外的最盛大的庆祝活动。在这一天，大汗会披上金袍，另外，还有一万二千名男爵和武官也会披上大汗赐予的长袍，这些长袍与大汗的金袍颜色款式相同——都是用金线银线织成，并且腰间有金质的束带，只是不如大汗的贵重。这些长袍，就像他们经常佩戴的宝石和珍珠一样珍贵，大概价值一万金币——这可不是小数目。而大汗每年要赐给这一万两千名男爵和武官十三次长袍，这样一来他们就能穿得和他一样，显得富丽华贵。大家可以看出这不是轻而易举就能做到的事情，也再无其他皇帝能够承担这样的花销了。

在这个盛大的节日里，所有的鞑靼人和大汗统治下的省份和地区的贵族地主，都要向大汗献上与他们身份相符的珍贵礼物。此外还有很多向大汗讨要官位的人也会向大汗奉上贵重礼物，然后大汗就让掌管此事的十二名总管按照申请人的功绩进行奖赏。在这一天，所有的佛教徒、基督教徒、撒拉森人和其他种族的臣民都要唱赞美诗，点长明灯，焚香祈祷，虔诚地恳求他们所信奉的神明，让他们保佑大汗长命百岁，幸福安康。这一天就在祝福祈祷、愉快欢庆中度过。在描述完这个节日后，就让我向大家介绍另一个重大的节日——庆祝新年的白色节。

他们的新年开始于每年二月，根据习俗，大汗和他的臣民，无论男女，都穿上白色的衣服，因为他们认为白色的装束代表着吉利祥和，在新年里穿上它就能保佑他们在整年中富贵幸福。在新年这一天，大汗统治下的所有首领，和各个省份和地区的贵族地主都要向大汗献上真金白银、珍珠宝石和大量高档白衣，祝福大汗在全年中锦衣玉食、幸福快乐。贵族、官员和平民百姓在这一天也互赠礼物，并且相互祝贺道：“万事如意，心想事成。”这样一来，他们就能在新的一年里诸事顺利了。

在这一天里，大汗还会收到十万匹价值连城的白色骏马，大汗的五千头大象也会披上画有鸟兽的衣服，每头大象的背上都驮有两个大箱子，里面装满了精美贵重的器皿和白色的长袍。大象后面跟着不计其数的骆驼，也穿着衣服，驮着节日所需的物品。它们排成纵列，从大汗面前走过，极其壮观。

在节日的早晨，宴席摆好之前，所有的国王、公爵、伯爵、子爵、男爵、武官、占星家、医师、养鹰人和其他官员都要来到大殿拜见大汗。不能进入大殿的人，就在大殿外大汗可以看见的地方叩拜。让我向大家介绍一下他们位置的安排。在最前面的是皇子、皇孙和其他皇室成员；后面是大王、公爵和其他官员，按照官位大小，有秩序地排列。当他们各就各位后，一位高官就站起来，用洪亮的声音说到：“致敬叩首。”话音未落，所有的人都下跪叩首，像祝福上帝一样高声祝福大汗。然后高官说到：“保佑大汗永远幸福快乐！”众人便齐声应道：“天佑吾皇！”高官又道：“保佑大汗国富民强，国泰民安！”众人再次应道：“天佑吾皇！”这样的礼仪要重复四次。然后他们就走向装饰得极其华丽的祭坛，上面摆放着刻有历任大汗名字的红色牌位，前面摆有制作精美华丽的香炉。官员们毕恭毕敬地向着牌位焚香叩首。随后他们就退回到自己的位置上，当所有人礼毕后，他们就呈上前面所提到的各种珍贵礼物。等大汗过目后，宴会就正式开始，皇亲国戚、文武百官就按照上文中所提到的次序依次入座。宴会完毕后是各种表演。表演结束后，赴宴的人们就回各自住所了。

大汗指定了十三个节日，每个农历月份中都有一个。每个节日都有一万两千名被叫做卡西坦的男爵参加。他们是最忠于大汗并且离大汗最近的人。大汗赏赐他们每人十三件不同颜色的长袍，每件都有珍珠宝石镶嵌，价值连城。大汗还赏赐他们每人一条美丽贵重的金腰带和一双用银线镶边的皮质靴子，也是同样的精美珍贵。他们的服装是如此华丽庄重，以至于每个人都像是国王一样。大汗自己也有十三套颜色类似的长袍，装饰得更加奢华名贵。并且，大汗与他的男爵们总是穿一样颜色的长袍。

这些长袍共有十五万六千件，它们的价值难以估计，更不用说那些昂贵的腰带与靴子了。大汗准备这些只是为了增加节日气氛。

让我再用一个值得大家注意的事实总结一下。有一头大狮子被带到大汗面前，狮子是没被锁住的，当它见到大汗时，立刻趴在大汗面前，表现出深深的敬意，似乎它知道大汗的地位一样，这的确是一件让人惊叹的事情。

下面，让我们来谈谈大汗的狩猎活动。

大家应该知道大汗停留在汗八里的三个月（十二月、一月、二月）中，都会下令进行狩猎和捕鹰活动，距离汗八里六十天路程以内地区的所有人都要参与。各地的长官必须将较大的猎物，比如野猪、雄鹿、雄獐、熊或者其他类似的大型猎物进贡给大汗。所以每个长官都聚集其统治地区中所有的猎人，派他们去野兽出没的地方，轮流射杀猎物。他们有时候会放出猎犬咬死猎物，但是大多数时候是用箭射死它们。然后他们挖去猎物的内脏，放在两轮推车上运送给大汗。这些猎物，都能够在三十天之内被送给大汗，总数很多。那些离大汗三十天到六十天路程的地区，由于距离太远，不适合向大汗运送猎物，但是他们要向大汗运送适当装饰过和硝过的兽皮，这样大汗就可以用它们来制作军需品。

大家要知道，大汗还饲养了许多善于捕猎的豹子和山猫。大汗还拥有一些大狮子，比埃及的狮子还要大一些，这些狮子的皮毛十分光亮，身上还有黑色、橙色、白色的条纹。它们被训练捕捉野猪、公牛、熊、野驴、雄鹿和雄獐等其他猎物。这些狮子猎食这些高贵动物的场景是十分壮观的。当狮子被带出来捕捉猎物时，它们被关在笼子里，笼子放在车上，每只狮子旁边都有一只小狗做伴。由于它们见到猎物后会十分凶残和冲动，人们无法控制，所以这些狮子都要被关在笼子里。它们都要被放在上风的位置，因为一旦那些猎物嗅到狮子的气味，就会立刻逃窜得不见踪影。大汗还训练了许多鹰，用来捕捉狼、狐狸和棕色的鹿。那些被用来猎狼的鹰，体型巨大，强壮有力，再大的狼也逃不出这些鹰的鹰爪。

下面我将向大家介绍一下大汗拥有的众多优秀猎犬。大家要知道在大汗的男爵中，有两兄弟叫做伯颜和明安，他们又被叫做钦纽奇，意思是“大型猎犬的饲养者”。他们两人分别有一万名随从，一万人穿着红色制服，另一万人穿着蓝色制服。无论什么时候陪伴大汗出猎，他们都穿着这样的制服。不管是有两千人还是一万人，他们每人都领着至少一只大型猎犬，有时候也会带着两只或者更多，这样，猎犬的总数是极多的。当大汗打猎时，这两兄弟中的一人带着他的一万手下和五千猎犬，跟在大汗的一侧，而另一个兄弟则带着他的手下和猎犬，跟在另一侧。两队的配合十分默契，队伍有一天的路程那么长。这样，只要被他们发现的野生动物都能被猎杀。这样一场猎人和猎犬的狩猎活动是多么壮观啊！大家可以想象，大汗和他的男爵们带着猎鹰在猎场上行猎，猎犬跟在两边，捕捉熊、雄鹿和其他野兽，的确是一幕壮观的场景。从十月初一直到次年的三月底，这两兄弟每天都要负责向大汗和他的随从提供数以千计的猎物，包括各种鸟兽，鹌鹑还不计在内，同时还要尽全力为大汗提供鱼类，提供足够三人食用的鱼被视为猎杀了一头野兽。

当大汗在这儿度过十二月、一月、二月这三个月后，在三月份，大汗会继续向南前进，到达一个离海仅有两天路程的地方。陪同他的有一万名养鹰者，五千只矛隼、游隼和猎隼，此外还有大量的苍鹰沿河捕猎。大家要知道，大汗并不把所有的随从集中在一个地方，而是将他们分成不同的小队，每队一两百人或者更多，将他们分派到不同的地方。他们各自进行捕猎，大部分猎物都被进贡给大汗。大汗手下的一万人被分为两人一组，他们被叫作塔斯克尔，意思是“看守人”。这些人两人一组，被分配到各个地方，这样就能观察到一片广阔的领域。他们每人都有一个哨子和一块头巾，用这些来控制猎鹰。当大汗命令猎鹰去行猎时，这些养鹰者没有必要紧跟在猎鹰后面，因为这些看守人会仔细关注猎鹰的去向，当有人需要帮助时，其他人立刻就会给予援助。

所有大汗和男爵的猎鹰爪子上都系有银牌，上面刻着它们主人和看守人的名字，便于看管。这样一来，当猎鹰被收回时，就能辨认出它的主人，然后物归原主。如果辨认不出主人，就将它送到叫巴尔盖奇的男爵那儿，巴尔盖奇是专门负责失物招领的官员。任何人如果发现不能辨认出主人的马、剑或者猎鹰等，都会送到这个男爵那儿，由他来保管。如果发现物件的人没有及时地将别人的遗失物交给巴尔盖奇，他就会被看做贼。而遗失东西的人到官员那儿登记后，只要官员收到他们的遗失物，就会立刻归还给他们。这些官员有专门办公的地方，通常在大营的最高处，顶上还插着高高飘扬的旗帜，这样那些遗失东西的人很容易就能找得到，所遗失的东西也能被找到并归还给他们。

当大汗继续向海边前进时，旅途中会出现许多精彩的狩猎活动，世界上没有任何运动能和这种狩猎活动相媲美。大汗一般都会坐在一个精致的小木亭里，木亭由四头大象驮着，亭子内部用金子装饰，外部则用狮子皮装饰。大汗身边总有十二只最好的矛隼供他娱乐，还有一些男爵在他身边侍奉陪伴。当骑着马的男爵向大汗报道：“陛下，有鹤经过”时，大汗就下令将木亭的顶部打开，这样他就能看到鹤群，然后他就吩咐他的随从将那些矛隼带来，大汗会从中选取几只，放飞它们。这样，大汗躺在亭中就能看到这些矛隼捕食鹤群的全过程，这给大汗带来了极大的娱乐和享受。同时，男爵和骑士们也骑着马，陪伴在大汗周围。世界上再也没有人能够享受到这样的运动和娱乐。

当大汗前行至一个叫做卡察摩都的地方时，就会在这儿安营扎寨，他的儿子、男爵和妃子等不下一万人都会在此停留，场面十分壮观。让我来向大家形容一下大汗所在的帐篷：帐篷中设有大汗会见大臣的宫室，十分宽敞，能够容纳一千名骑兵。帐篷的入口朝南开，还有供男爵和其他大臣休息的厅堂。和宫室相连的是另外一个朝西的帐篷，是大汗私下与大臣会面的地方。在一个大厅堂的后面有一个漂亮的大房间，大汗在这儿就寝。除此之外，还有很多的房间和帐篷，只是不和这个大帐篷相连。让我来告诉大家这两个厅堂和房间的构造。每个厅堂都由精心雕刻过的腊梅木做支撑，厅堂外部都铺着一层十分美丽的狮子皮，有黑、白、橙三色并呈条纹状，能够防风挡雨。里侧还有一层白貂和黑貂的皮毛，是两种最昂贵的皮毛。最上乘的黑貂皮做成外衣，价值两千金币，制成一件普通的衣服也要一千金币。鞑靼人将黑貂皮称为“毛皮之王”。黑貂的体型和貂鼠差不多。这两个厅堂就是用这些貂皮连接起来，极有艺术感地拼凑成一幅壮观场景。大汗的房间与两个厅堂相连，外面同样是狮子皮，内部是黑貂和白貂的皮毛，手艺精巧，设计独特。固定两个厅堂和大汗房间的绳子都是丝做的。这三个帐篷如此精细贵重，其他小国国王是承受不起的。

在这三个帐篷周围还搭有其他帐篷，也十分精美，供大汗的妃子居住。还有大量的帐篷用来放置矛隼、猎鹰和其他鸟兽。在这里宿营的人数几乎超出了想象，大家可以想象一下大汗就像居住在他富庶的城市里一样，因为各种人都聚集在这儿，大汗的家眷、医师、占星家、养鹰人和其他不计其数的官员，一切都像在他的都城里一样井然有序。

大汗在此处停留直到春季，不久之后便是我们的复活节。在他停留期间，大汗也从不停止在湖边或者河边行猎，并且猎取了大量的鹤、天鹅和其他鸟类。大汗的随从也被派到周围其他地方，为大汗捕猎大量的野兽和鸟类。在此期间，大汗享受着世界上最好的休闲运动，没有亲眼见到的人，是难以相信的。到目前为止，大汗的伟大，他的状态，他的享乐都超出了我的描述。

让我再告诉大家一个事实。在大汗居住的地方方圆二十天路程的地区，不管是商人、工匠，还是农民都不允许饲养任何猎鹰、捕食猎物的鸟类和其他追逐猎物的猎犬。但是在大汗统治的其他地区，居民是可以随意用猎鹰和猎犬捕捉猎物的。大家还要知道，每年的三月到十月，在大汗统治的领域中，任何亲王、男爵和其他人都不允许猎杀野兔、雄鹿、羚羊或者其他野兽，这样这些动物就能够更好地繁衍生息。任何违反规定的人都会受到严厉的惩罚，因为这是由大汗亲自制定的规矩。人们都严格遵守大汗的命令，即使野兔、雄鹿和其他兽类出现在一个人面前，他也不会捕捉或者伤害它们。

当狩猎季节结束，复活节快来临时，大汗和他的随从们就出发，按原路返回汗八里，一路上也和来时一样行猎，享受着运动娱乐。

大汗在汗八里铸造他的货币，铸造过程是如此的系统，大家甚至可能认为大汗掌握了炼金术。下面让我在这里向大家描述一下。

大汗是按如下程序铸造货币的：将树皮从桑树（叶子可以用来养蚕）上剥下来，剥出树干和树皮之间的内皮，然后将它捣碎弄平，用浆糊粘成薄片，就像棉花制成的纸一样，不过是黑色的。随后，将它裁成大小不一的长方形，最小的薄片价值半个图洛，稍大一些的价值一个图洛，再大一些的价值一个威尼斯银币，还有的价值两个、五个和十个银币，或者一个、三个、十个金币。所有的薄片都要加印大汗的图章。整个制造过程都十分正式严肃，就像在铸造真金白银一样。每张货币上都有专门的官员签名，加印图章。当这些程序都完成后，由大汗指定的一个总管就将大汗的印章蘸上朱砂，盖到每张纸币上，这样印章的图案就保留在了纸币上。这时候纸币才成为真正的货币，任何人伪造钱币都会受到极其严厉的惩罚。

大汗制造了大量的这种货币，可以买到世界上所有的奇珍异宝。所有在大汗统治领域内的交易都要使用这种货币，没有人敢冒生命危险拒绝使用。并且，大汗统治下的臣民也都欣然接受了这种纸币，因为不管是货物、珍珠、宝石还是金银，都可以用同样的货币来支付。他们可以用这些纸币买到任何东西。

每年都有几次，许多商人带上珍珠、宝石、金银和其他贵重物品，比如金银线织成的衣物，进贡给大汗。大汗就会召集挑选各种货物的专家，让他们检查商人们带来的货物，并且给出合适的价钱。这些专家们仔细检查货物后，就付给商人上面所提到的纸币。而商人们会欣然接受纸币，因为他们以后可以用这些纸币在大汗统治的疆域内买到各种货物。全年中，这些被送来的不同货物价值四十万金币，都是用纸币支付的。

大汗每年都会几次下令臣民们将他们所拥有的宝石、珍珠、金银送到铸币厂，数量之多是难以估计的，然后大汗会付给他们纸币。通过这种方法，大汗就拥有了他统治领土内所有的金银珠宝。

当这些纸币流通太久，被撕坏或者磨损时，可以将它们送回铸币厂，扣除百分之三的价格后换成新的纸币。如果有谁需要购买金银来制造金银器，比如盘子、腰带或者其他装饰品，他可以拿这些纸币向铸币厂的官员购买金银。同样，大汗的军队也是用这种纸币来发放军饷的。

我已经向大家提到过大汗拥有比任何人都多的财富。我可以进一步地说，世界上所有其他统治者拥有的财富加起来也比不上大汗一人所拥有的财富。

大家已经知道大汗任命过十二位权力极大的男爵，负责审查所有的军事决定，包括军队的行动、高级军官的更换、兵力的配置，以及根据战争情况派送军队的数量等。同时，他们还负责区分强壮勇敢的战士与胆怯懦弱的士兵，提升那些勇敢的士兵，对无能胆小的士兵则给予降职处分。如果一个千夫长在行动中没有良好表现，男爵们认定他不配留在现在的职位，就会将他降职为百夫长；相反，如果千夫长的行为证明他是可信而优秀的，就会被认为适合更高级的职位，男爵们会任命他为万夫长。不过，官员的升降都是要经过大汗同意的，他们会向大汗禀报：“某人不配在某个职位上。”大汗命令道：“那让他降级吧！”这样，官员就会被降职。当他们认为某人的功绩值得使他升职时，他们就向大汗禀报：“某人是千夫长，但是完全有能力成为一个万夫长。”如果得到大汗的认可，大汗就会授予他适合的奖牌，然后立刻给予他物质奖励，以激励其他的官员。这十二名男爵组成的议会被叫做枢密院——也就是“军事委员会”，是除了大汗以外的最高权力机构。

除此之外，大汗还任命了另外十二个男爵负责处理三十四个省份的事务。他们都住在汗八里的一座宫殿内，这座宫殿有许多厅室，每个省份都有一个主要官员和其他办事员，他们都居住在宫殿内。这些官员和办事员掌管他们负责省份的所有事务，直接服从于十二名男爵。这十二名男爵被赋予任命各个省份官员的权力，当他们认为某人有能力并且适合某个职位时，他们就向大汗禀报，当大汗认可他们的任命后，就授予此人奖牌。他们还负责监督各省的税收和经费的使用以及除军事活动外的一切事务。这个议会被叫做中书省，他们办公的地方叫做中书院。

枢密院和中书省都是最高国家机关，除了大汗外，没人拥有比他们更高的权力。但是枢密院，也可以叫做军事委员会，被认为拥有更高的等级和尊严。

在这里，我还不打算向大家介绍那些不计其数的省份，在后面我再向大家介绍。现在让我们了解一下大汗用于寄送信件的邮递系统。

以汗八里为中心，有许多条路通向各个省份，这些路都以各个省的名字命名。整个系统的设计十分精巧。当大汗派出信使时，他每走二十五英里就会发现一个驿站。每个驿站都有宽敞明亮的房间供他们休息。这些房间里有着舒适的床铺，上面铺有厚厚的丝质床单，供高级别的使者使用。即使一个国王来到这儿，也会觉得居住得十分舒适。在这里，按照大汗的要求，饲养了不下四百匹马，随时准备着供大汗的信使骑乘。大家要知道，每条通往各个省份的大路上，每隔二十五英里或者三十英里都有一个这样的驿站，每个驿站也都有三四百匹马供信使骑乘，这在大汗所统治的所有省份和王国都是一样的。

在一些偏僻的乡村，没有多少房屋和居民，大汗仍然建造了驿站，和大路上的驿站有着相同的居住环境，配备了相同的马匹和其他物品。只是各个驿站间的距离要稍远一些，大概相隔三十五英里，在有些地方还超过了四十英里。

通过这样的安排，大汗的信使在全国送递信件时都能有住处和充足的马匹。毫无疑问，这使大汗享有高于任何人的特权和最丰富的资源。大家要知道，有超过二十万的马匹被饲养在这些驿站，供信使使用。单是驿站的数目就超过了一万座，并且每个驿站都配备精良。整个系统是如此的惊人和昂贵，任何言语都难以描述。

如果有人问，他们怎么能有如此多的人力来完成这项工作，他们靠什么生活，我的回答是这样的：所有的佛教徒和撒拉森人一样，每人都有六个、八个或者十个妻子，只要他们能够供养，便可以随便娶妻。这样他们也就有了许多孩子，有很多男人都有三十多个儿子，可以跟随他一起从军。这是由于他们有众多妻子的缘故。而我们实行一夫一妻制，如果妻子不能生育，丈夫也要和她共同生活，也就不能拥有孩子，因此我们的人口要远远少于他们。而且他们的食物也不会短缺，因为他们的主要食物是米、粟等，尤其是鞑靼人、契丹人和蛮子，而这些作物在他们国家产量十分丰富。他们不吃面包，而是将米、粟和牛奶或者肉煮熟后食用。小麦在他们国家的产量不是很高，他们通常将收获的小麦做成面条或者面饼食用。在他们的国家，没有闲置土地，家禽繁殖也十分迅速。当他们服兵役时，每人都有六匹、八匹或者更多的马匹供他自己使用。这样也就不难理解为什么这个国家有如此多人口和如此多谋生手段。

现在让我向大家描述另外一件和驿站密切相关的事情。在各个驿站之间，每隔三英里就有一个站点，每个站点大概有四十户徒步为大汗送信的信使。他们系着长长的腰带，身上挂着铃铛，这样当他们送信时，离着很远的距离就能听到他们的声音。他们总是快速跑步送信，但是从来不超过三英里，在三英里外的另一个站点的信使听到铃声后，就会准备好收信，当第一个送信人到达时，新的信使就接过他要送达的物品和书记员给他的小条，然后就开始跑步送信。当他跑完三英里后，又有另一个信使接替，如此反复。通过这些徒步的信使，大汗在一天一夜就能收到原本需要十天才能收到的消息。因为这些徒步信使可以不到一天一夜走完十天的路程，或者用两天两夜的时间走完二十天的路程。在果实成熟的季节，通过这种方法，白天在汗八里采摘的水果，在第二天晚上就能送到大汗所在的城市——上都，而两个城市原本需要十天的路程。

在每隔三英里的站点都有一个书记员，负责记录每个信使到达和离开的时间和日期，每个站点都要执行这样的记录。同时，每月还有官吏来巡查，检查每一个站点，这是为了找出粗心大意的信使并惩罚他们。大汗对这些信使和站点的工作人员免除赋税，并且向他们提供充足的粮食来维持生活。

对于上文中提到的那些驿站中供皇家信使使用的马匹，我将向大家详细描述大汗是如何安排的。首先，大汗会询问：“离某个驿站最近的城市是哪座？”然后问：“它能为信使提供多少马匹？”接下来通过专门的官员进行调查，查出驿站周围的居民以及附近的城镇和村庄能够提供多少马匹，然后根据实际情况，让居民提供相应数目的马匹。所有的城市都一样，考虑到两个驿站之间有时候会穿过另一个城市，那么这个城市也要提供相应的马匹。他们提供马匹的费用可以从他们的赋税中扣除，因此，如果一个人需要交纳的税费总共价值一匹半马，那么他就要向邻近的驿站提供相应的马匹。但是大家要知道，不是任何时候驿站都有四百匹马。实际上，他们将二百匹马留在驿站一个月，供信使使用，另外两百匹则在草原上喂养。在月末的时候，再将喂养的两百匹马与留在驿站的马匹交换，这样就可以不断地轮流使用。

信使送信时，如果遇到必须经过的河流或者湖泊，邻近的城市就要准备三到四条渡船，随时供信使使用；如果遇到需要很多天才能穿越的沙漠，而且沙漠中没有其他常住居民，那么沙漠边缘的城市就要向大汗的特使提供充足的马匹和食物，以满足特使及其随从的需要。但是对这样的城市，大汗会给予特殊的补助。对于距离主路较远的驿站，那儿的马匹一部分由大汗自己提供，一部分由附近的城镇、村庄提供。

当遇到大汗急需的消息，比如发生叛乱或者其他引起大汗深思的事情时，信使可以每天行驶两百英里，有时候甚至是两百五十英里。让我来告诉大家这是如何做到的：当信使收到急需传递的信件时，就会持有一个刻有矛隼的牌子，作为传送急件的信号。如果有两个信使，他们出发时就骑上两匹强壮的马，系紧他们的腰带，用布包住头，以最快的速度前进，直到下一个驿站。当他们接近驿站时，他们会用牛角吹出声响，这种声音在很远的地方也能听到，这样，驿站就能为他们备好马匹。当他们到达时，就会换乘两匹已经套好马具、状态极佳的马，然后立刻出发，马不停蹄地赶往下一个驿站，再换马前进。这样，信使就能在一天内跑完两百五十英里，将消息送到大汗手中。事实上，如果是极其紧要的消息，他们每天可以奔驰三百英里。在这种情况下，他们晚上也不休息，如果没有月光，就由各个驿站的人持灯跑步，为他们照明。在夜间骑马的速度不如白天快，因为他们会受到跑步照明者速度的影响。能够如此劳累送信的使者，都会得到丰厚的奖励。

现在，让我向大家讲述一下大汗对臣民的恩赐。大汗总是希望能给予他的臣民直接的帮助，使他们能正常生活劳作，积累财富。每年他都要派出使者和巡查员，去全国各地了解臣民们是否因为天气原因、蝗灾或其他虫灾而导致收成不足。当他发现有些地区的百姓收成不足时，不但免去当年的赋税，还会赐予他们国库中的粮食，供他们播种和食用，这是一项重要的恩惠制度。大汗通常在夏天的时候给予百姓这种恩惠，而在冬天，灾难通常发生在牲畜身上。当大汗了解到某一地区居民的牲畜由于瘟疫而死亡时，他就将从其他省份通过什一税收上来的牲畜分给受灾的百姓，为了更进一步地帮助这些百姓，大汗还会免除他们当年的赋税。

当百姓的羊群、牛群或者其他畜群被雷电击中时，不管这些牲畜是属于一个人还是更多人，也不管畜群的数目有多大，大汗都会免去他们三年的赋税。同样地，当一艘装满货物的商船被雷电击中时，大汗也不会向那些货物征税，因为大汗认为，雷击是不祥之兆。他说：“老天爷一定是厌恶此人，才会用雷电袭击他。”所以，他并不希望那些惹老天爷愤怒的货品成为他的财物。

大汗还给予他的百姓另一项恩赐：在各条供信使送信或商人通商的大路上，大汗都令人在道路的两边种植树木，每两步的距离就种植一棵。这些树木长得十分茂盛，在很远的地方就能看到，这使得旅行者很容易就能辨认出路的方向，而不至于迷路。大家会发现，即使在荒无人烟的地方，道路两旁也会种植树木，这给旅行者和商人带来了极大便利。全国各地都如此。当道路穿过沙漠或者石山而无法种植树木时，大汗就下令用石头或者柱子作为路标，指明道路。还有专门的官员负责检查这些规定是否顺利执行。大汗种植树木的另一个原因，是因为算命者和占星家告诉他，种植树木可以延年益寿。

大家要知道，契丹省的居民大都饮用一种酒，我将向大家描述。他们用米和香料制成酒，因而比其他的酒类都要可口。酒水清澈香醇，通常加热后饮用，比其他酒品更容易醉人。

在契丹省的各个地方，都有一种黑色的石头，它们埋藏在山体中，可以像圆木一样燃烧。它们的火焰比木头更好，可以整夜不灭。要想点燃这种石头，需要先点燃它们中的一小块，然后其他的才会被点着，就像煤炭一样，一旦点着，就会散发出很高的热度。这种可以燃烧的石头遍布契丹全省。他们同样还拥有充足的可供燃烧的木柴，但是由于人口众多，有如此多的澡堂和浴室，水要不断地加热，木柴也就供不应求了。因为每个人每周都要至少洗三次澡，即使在冬季，每周也要洗一次。一些官员或富人在自己的家中就设有浴室供他们沐浴。因此，根本没有足够的木柴来满足如此大量的需求，而这些石头数量多，又便宜，很大程度上减少了木柴的使用。

让我们回到谷物的供应上。当大汗发现某年获得大丰收，并且粮食的价格很便宜时，就下令购买许多粮食，并储藏在一个大粮仓内，在这里，粮食被精心保管，即使放上三四年也不会腐烂。这样，大汗就储藏了大量各种粮食——小麦、大麦、粟、大米等。当作物收成不好，发生饥荒时，大汗就动用这些储备，仅以四分之一的价格卖出这些储备的粮食。大汗会发放足够多的粮食，这样就能满足所有人的需要。在大汗统治的地区都实行这样的政策，因而臣民的需求都能得到满足。

下面让我向大家讲述大汗是如何给予汗八里的贫困百姓慷慨施舍的。当大汗得知一些正直的家庭和一些有声望的人，由于遭遇不幸或者由于生病无法劳作，因而变得穷困，无法维持生计时，他就会给予这些家庭（通常由六到十个人或者更多人组成）可供他们使用一年的必需品。这些贫民在指定的日期就可以去专门掌管大汗花费的官员那儿，每人都要提供一个证明书，上面记载着上一年他获得的救济总数，这样今年也可以照前一年度那样发放救济。发放的物品中还包括衣物，这些衣物是大汗从用于制造衣物的羊皮、丝绸和大麻收取的什一税中提取的一部分。大汗将这些材料在指定的地点织成布匹并且贮存在那儿。由于所有的工匠每周都要为大汗工作一天，大汗就令他们将这些布匹做成衣服，供贫穷的家庭冬夏使用。大汗还为他的军队提供衣物，每个城市都要纺织羊毛布，作为向大汗上缴的什一税的一部分。

大家要知道，根据鞑靼人的习俗，在成为佛教徒之前，他们是从来不向他人施舍的。事实上，当有穷人向他们行乞时，他们会赶走这些人，并诅咒道：“让老天爷惩罚你吧，如果老天爷像爱护我一样的爱护你，就会保佑你生活无忧！”但是自从佛教徒中的圣人，尤其是巴克斯向大汗讲到乐善好施是一件功德无量的事情，他们的佛祖会因此而高兴之后，大汗才开始提供上文中提到的救济。向朝廷乞求食物的百姓都不会空手而归，每人都会得到一部分粮食。每天都有官员在指定的地点分发两万到三万碗米、粟。由于大汗对待贫苦百姓是如此的宽宏大量，慷慨救济，因此所有的百姓都对他十分尊敬，把他当做神明一样看待。

在汗八里还居住着许多基督徒、撒拉森人、契丹人和大概五千名占星家和算命者。大汗同样向他们提供衣物和食物，就像提供给那些穷人一样。这样他们就可以正常的在城里研究法术。他们有一种年鉴，上面记载了整年中每时每刻行星通过星群的运动。每年这些占星家、基督徒、撒拉森人和契丹人都要根据他们自己的记载，检查年鉴中每年每月天体运行的轨道和行星的位置。因为他们研究发现，每年每月在一些条件下，行星和星群运行的轨迹和所处的位置，与某些自然现象的发生有着一定联系。比如，某月会有雷雨天气，某月会有地震，某月又会有闪电和暴雨，还有一些月份会爆发瘟疫、战争和冲突等。根据逐月的发现，他们就会根据规律宣称将要发生什么事情，但是他们又说到老天爷可以随意改动他们所预言的事情。因此，他们将可能发生的事情逐月写在一个小册子上，以每册一个银币的价格卖给那些想知道全年中会发生什么事情的人。那些能够给出最准确预言的人被认为是他们法术中的佼佼者，受到极大尊重。

当有人需要从事某项重要的商业活动，或者要去某处经商，或从事其他事业，或者想知道某项计划的结果时，他就会去询问占星家，告诉他们自己的生辰八字。根据习俗，每个人都从小被告知自己的生辰八字，父母会仔细地将孩子的生辰八字记在一个本子里，所以每个人都可以说出自己的生辰八字。他们认为十二年为一个周期，每年都有一个符号：第一年的符号为狮子，第二年是牛年，第三年是龙年，第四年是狗年，以此类推，直到十二年都被安排。所以，当有人被问及他是何时出生时，他就会回答：“狮年的某月某时某刻。”当十二年的周期完成后，他们就以同样的顺序开始一个新的十二年。所以当一个人向占星家或者算命者询问他们的冒险会有什么样的结果时，首先要说出他的生辰八字，算命者就可以确定他属于哪个星座和行星，然后预测他这次远行或者冒险的结果是好还是坏。同样地，如果询问者是一个商人，他就会被告知，他的行星正处于上升的通道，这会对他的冒险产生不利的影响，他需要等待一个更好的时机；如果他的星座刚好直接面向他准备离开的城门，则不利于他的出行，这样他就需要换一个城门离开，或者等到星座离开现在的位置；或者在某时某地，他会遇到强盗，在另外一些时候他会遭遇狂风暴雨，其他一些时候他的马匹会有一条腿骨折，在这儿他的一些非法交易会给他带来损失，在那儿又能给他带来一些利润等。这样算命者就会根据星象来预测他的整个旅程的运气变化，是顺利还是损失惨重。

我已经告诉大家，契丹百姓都是佛教徒，每人房间的墙壁上里都会挂有一个图像，代表高高在上的天神，并且图像上还写有神明的名字。每天他们都要面对神明焚香叩拜，双手合十，叩头三次，祈求天神保佑他们长命百岁、智慧健康。除此之外，别无所求。在地上，他们还有一个叫做纳蒂盖的地神。他们给纳蒂盖配有妻子儿女，并以同样的方式对他焚香礼拜、合掌叩首。他们向他祈求风调雨顺、五谷丰登、儿孙满堂。

由于投入了很多时间去学习知识，因此他们在言行举止和许多方面的学识都超过了其他民族。他们谈吐高雅，讲究礼貌，总是相互问候，面目和善，举止高贵，吃饭时也十分讲究卫生。但是他们并不注重他们的灵魂，只关心他们现在的身体和自己的快乐。关于灵魂，他们相信灵魂不灭，认为当一个人死去后他的灵魂会进入另外一个身体，根据此人生前的善恶来决定投胎的好坏。也就是说：如果一个人生前是等级低下的人，但是他行为高尚，那么他死后第一次就会投胎于一位体面的妇人，然后成为一个体面的人；第二次就会投胎于一个贵妇，成为一个贵族。这样就会一次次越来越好，直到与神合为一体。但是，如果一个出身高贵的人，行为举止却十分恶劣，死后他就会投胎为一个农夫的儿子，然后再成为一只狗，越降越低。

他们对父母十分尊敬，如果有哪个孩子做出让父母生气的事情或者忽视了父母的需求，那么国家就有一个部门专门来惩罚这些忘恩负义的不孝子孙。

各种罪犯被抓住后都被关进监狱。如果没有被判处死刑，大汗规定，普通罪犯都要坐三年大牢，然后才被释放，但是在他们的脸颊上会烙有印记，以便于分辨。

赌博和行骗在这个国家曾经十分普遍，因此大汗下令禁止赌博和行骗。为了改变他们这种习惯，大汗说道：“我已经用武力征服了你们，你们所有的财产都属于我，所以，如果你们赌博，就是在用我的财产赌博。”但是，大汗并没有用这个理由从百姓那儿巧取豪夺。

我不会忘记向大家描述大汗的臣民和贵族觐见大汗时的举止。首先，不管是谁，在离大汗半英里的地方，就会表现出对大汗的尊敬，他们行为恭谦温顺，从不大声喧哗，也从不大声交谈。每位男爵或者贵族都会随身带有一个设计精巧的小容器，供他们吐痰时使用。而在大汗的大殿中，没有人敢随地吐痰。同样地，他们还随身携带一双白色皮革制成的鞋子，当他们来到朝廷，即将受到大汗的接见时，就会换上这双白鞋，把原来穿的鞋子交给随从，这样就不会弄脏那些用金线织成的美丽多彩的丝质地毯。

注释

[1]史料记载蒙哥汗在1259年去世后，次年其弟阿里不哥在哈拉和林被选作蒙古帝国大汗，而忽必烈则在中原开平自立为大汗。大蒙古国第四任大汗蒙哥去世后，大蒙古国一分为五个国家，不复存在。这五个国家分别是拔都的金帐汗国，忽必烈的大元国（中国元朝），西亚的伊尔汗国，南亚的察合台汗国，以及中亚的窝阔台汗国。——译者注

[2]汗八里（Khan-balik）：元代都城大都（北京）的别称。——译者注

[3]指马可·波罗的父亲和叔叔，尼科洛·波罗及马费奥·波罗。——译者注

从北京到孟加拉

现在让我们离开汗八里，进入中国，让大家了解到她的富庶与伟大。

大家要知道，大汗曾经任命马可·波罗作为使者出使西部，距离汗八里有整整四个月的路程。下面我们就要向大家介绍他来回旅途中的所见所闻。

……

旅行者要用五天的时间骑马穿越平原山谷，经过无数村庄部落才能离开成都府。这儿的居民以农业为生。这个地区有许多狮子、熊和其他野兽，也有一些制造业，可以生产出一些薄绢和其他织物。这个地区是成都府的一部分，但是在经过五天的路程后，旅行者就进入了另一个地区——西藏[1]。

由于这个地区在蒙哥汗发起的征战中受到了极大的破坏，西藏省十分荒凉。有许多城镇、村庄和部落都成了废墟。

这个地区盛产一种又粗又高的竹子，能长到三掌粗、十五步高，每两个竹节间也有整整三掌的距离。经过这儿的商人和旅行者在晚上用这些竹子当燃料，因为这些竹子十分易燃，并且在燃烧时会发出乒乒乓乓的声响，那些狮子、熊和其他野兽就会因为害怕不敢靠近火堆。这样，火堆就能保护旅行者的牲口，以免它们被在这个地区频繁出没的野兽所伤害。让我向大家讲述一件值得一提的事情——这些竹子是如何发出清脆惊人的爆裂声以及产生的效果。大家要知道，这些竹子还是绿色的时候就被折断扔到火里，作为木柴使用。当它们在这种情况下被扔到火里时，它们开始弯曲爆裂，并发出嘭嘭的声响，在夜间隔着十英里也能听到。不熟悉这种声响的人会被这种声音惊呆，因为这种声音十分恐怖。从未听到过这种声音的马匹也会被吓到，它们会挣脱缰绳和所有束缚，拔腿就跑。很多旅行者都有这样的经历，如果马匹从未听到过这种声音，他们会用布蒙住马的眼睛并用铁锁锁住马蹄。这样当它们听到竹子的爆裂声试图逃跑时，就不会成功。通过这种方法，旅行者的安全在夜晚得到保证。旅行者和他的牲畜都不会被附近的狮子、豹子和其他危险的野兽伤害。

在这个荒凉并充满危险野兽的地区，即使行走二十天也不会有旅店、食物。每隔三四天，这些旅行者可能会找到一些有人居住的地方，补充一些食物。二十天后，他们才会到达一个地区，那儿有许多村庄和部落以及少许城镇，都坐落在陡峭的悬崖边上。我将向大家讲述那儿盛行的一种婚姻习俗。这里的男人都不愿意娶处女为妻。他们认为只有很了解男人的女人才值得娶为妻子。他们还认为处女是被神明所厌恶的，因为如果神明很喜欢这个女子，就会派男人去满足她，与她发生关系。他们就是这样看待妇女的。当别的地区的男人经过这个地区，要在此处搭帐篷过夜时，附近村庄和部落的妇女就会带着女儿过来，大概会有二十到四十人，然后祈求这些旅客与她们的女儿一同睡觉。那些漂亮的女子会被选中，而剩下的人就只能闷闷而归了。在旅行者停留期间，他们都可以这些女子在一起，并且可以让她们做任何他想做的事情，不过他们不可以将这些女子带到别的地方。当这些旅行者满足了自己的需求准备离开时，按照习俗，他们要将一些小饰物或者纪念品送给陪伴他们的女子，当女子要结婚时，她可以拿出这些纪念品，对别人说她曾经有一个情人。每个女子都要将这些饰品戴在脖子上，显示自己有过许多情人，和很多男人睡过。拥有纪念品最多的女子，表明她有最多的情人，和她睡过的男人最多，也就被认为最有价值，最值得被娶为妻子，用他们的话说就是最受老天的宠爱。当他们通过这种方法将女子娶为妻子后，任何人再接触他人的妻子就会被视为极大的冒犯，他们严禁这种行为。这就是他们的婚姻制度。很明显，这个地区对十六至二十四岁的男青年来说，是个很好的地方。

这里的本地人都是佛教徒，并且都是十足的坏人。他们不认为抢劫和虐待是一种罪恶，并且他们是世界上最大的强盗土匪。他们靠打猎和种植水果生活。这个地区盛产一种能够生产麝香的动物[2]，他们把它叫做谷得利。它们数量极多，以至于在这里到处都能闻到麝香。这种液囊像一个肿瘤一样长在野兽的肚脐上，里面充满了血液，而这些血液就是麝香。每个月液囊中都会充满了血液，当无法承受血液的重量时，液囊就会破裂。由于这种动物很多，当液囊破裂时，麝香就被洒到很多地方，因此整个地区都弥漫着麝香的香气。卑鄙的当地人为了得到麝香，用狗猎取了许多这种动物。

当地居民并不使用任何钱币，也不使用大汗的纸币，他们把盐当作货币使用。他们的衣衫十分匮乏，通常用动物皮革、帆布、粗麻布制成。他们使用自己的语言，并且把自己叫做“西藏人”。

西藏省地域十分辽阔，与蛮子省和其他许多省份接壤。当地的居民都是佛教徒，并且都是臭名昭著的强盗土匪。整个省份被划分为了八个王国，拥有许多的城市和小镇。很多地区都是湖河和山区。在湖河中还发现了大量金沙。这里盛产肉桂。珊瑚的价格很高，妇女们用它来制作项链，并且用它来装饰偶像。这个省份还盛产驼毛布、金银线布、粗棉布和其他我们国家从未见到过的布料。这个地区有许多优秀的巫师和占星家，可以随心所欲地呼风唤雨。他们通过魔鬼般的行为表现出强大的巫术和伟大的奇迹，都是前所未见，闻所未闻的。在此书中还是不要提及，以免人们太过诧异。他们的习俗是招人厌恶的。他们饲养了许多藏獒，体型和驴差不多大，很善于捕捉猎物，包括体积巨大并且十分凶残的野牛。除了优秀的猎鹰和猎隼外，他们还有各种猎犬。这些猎鹰和猎隼飞行技术十分出色，并且十分适合行猎。在离开西藏之前，让我向大家再说明一下，除了在书的开头提到过的一个省份受阿鲁浑的儿子统治外，和书中所提到的其他王国、省份、地区一样，西藏是属于大汗统治的。大家要明白，除了上面提到的那个省份，书中所提到的所有地区都属于大汗的统治范围。

我们将向大家介绍下一个省份——建都省[3]。建都省位于国土的西部。这个省中只有一个王国，百姓都为佛教徒，并且受大汗的统治。建都省内有许多城镇，最主要的城市也叫建都，位于省份的入口处。这儿还有一个大湖[4]，湖中盛产珍珠，这些珍珠颜色洁白，但都不是圆形的，就像四、五、六个或者更多的球连在一起。大汗禁止随意采集珍珠，因为如果所有被发现的珍珠都被采集出来，数量会很多，那么珍珠就会贬值，失去它的价值。所以大汗下令从湖中采集的珍珠只供他自己使用，其他人未经允许采集珍珠会被处以死刑。这里还有一座山，山上盛产一种叫做绿松石的石头，这也是十分珍贵的宝石，并且储量很多，同样，不经过大汗的允许也不能随意开采。

这里的妇女盛行一种风气，我将向大家描述。当一个陌生人或者别的男人和一个家庭中的妻子、女儿、姐妹或者其他女子发生关系时，他们的男人丝毫不会感到愤怒。反而将男人与她们睡觉看做一种恩惠。他们认为这么做是为了抚慰他们的神明和偶像，这样神明就能保佑他们在凡世间生活富足。出于这个原因，他们总是像下文中提到的那样慷慨地交出自己的妻子：当这个地区的主人发现有陌生的男子到他家里来住宿，或者仅仅是来到家里并未打算住宿时，他们就会立刻离家出走，并且告诉妻子要满足陌生人的所有要求。在陌生人离开之前，主人都会留在自己的田地或者葡萄园里。而陌生人通常会在家里停留三天，当他在这个家里时，他就会挂出自己的帽子或者其他标记，来表示自己仍然留在这个家中。而这些能够容忍妻子对自己不忠的丈夫看见这样的标记，就不会回家。这种风俗盛行于全省。虽然大汗下令禁止，但是他们仍然保留了这种风俗，因为每家每户都这么做，也就没有谁会去责备别人。在乡村和峭壁边部落的路旁，那些有着美丽妻子的人会把自己的妻子献给路过的商人享用。这些商人会送给妇女们一匹好布或者其他一些不值钱的小东西，当他们得到满足后，就会骑马离开，而这时，那些丈夫和妻子就会在他后面嘲笑：“嗨，你就这样走了！看看你拿走了我们的什么东西，看看你得到了什么好处，看看你给我们留下了什么！看看你忘记了什么！”然后他们就会拿出商人送给他们的布匹炫耀：“我们可是从你那儿得到了这个，而你却什么也没得到，你真是个大傻瓜！”

下面让我向大家介绍一下他们的货币。他们使用金条，并且用萨吉表示重量，金条的价值就取决于它的重量。但是他们没有印有图章的硬币。对于小面额的交易，他们采取以下方法：制盐的锅中有许多盐水，煮上一小时后，它们就会结晶在一个模型里，形成一个像两便士的面包一样的块状，底部是平的，上面是凸起的。当块状形成后，就被放于火边加热了的石头上，让它们变得干燥坚硬。这些盐块上会加盖大汗的印章，用于流通的盐币只有大汗任命的官员才能制造。八十个这样的盐块就价值一个萨吉的金币。但是在偏远的地区，根据该地区距离城市的远近，商人们用六十、五十，甚至四十个盐块就能换到一萨吉的金币。这些地区的居民不能处理他们手中的金币或者麝香，只能等着购买者来收购，由于他们在湖河中就能找到金沙，所以，他们将金币便宜卖出。商人们走遍西藏所有的高地山区，在这些地方，盐块也是流通货币，他们赚取了巨大的利润，因为对高原上的居民来说，盐块不仅是货币，还是生活的必需品。但是在城市里，盐块只作为货币使用，人们则食用未成块的盐。

这儿也有许多分泌麝香的动物，猎人通过捕捉它们得到了大量的麝香。盛产珍珠的那个湖中，同样盛产各种鱼，同时，狮子、山猫、熊、雄鹿、雄獐以及各种鸟类都十分常见。这儿没有葡萄酒，他们喝的酒都是由小麦、大米加上一些香料酿成的，十分可口。这里还盛产丁香，丁香树较小，树叶和桂树的叶子很像，不过要稍长、稍窄，花是白色的，和丁香石竹的花一样。这儿还盛产生姜和肉桂，更不用提那些从未传到我们国家的品种了。

当旅行者离开建都后，他要花上十天的时间穿过这个省份，沿途都能看到城镇、农村，还有许多鸟兽出没。这些地方居民的风俗习惯和我刚刚所描述的相同。走了十天后，旅行者就能到达一条大河旁边，叫做不鲁思河[5]，是建都省的天然疆界。此地区仍然盛产肉桂，河中也富含有大量金沙，河水流向大海。

在不鲁思河的另一边是另一个省份，叫做哈剌章省[6]。这个省份的面积很大，至少包含了七个王国。该省位于西部，居民是佛教徒，都服从于大汗的统治。这里的君王是大汗的儿子也先帖木儿。他是一个十分伟大、富有、极有权势的君王，并且正直明智，很好地统治着这个省份。

离开不鲁思河，旅行者需要向西行走五日，穿过一个王国，这个王国有许多城镇，并且养育出许多优秀的马匹，这里的居民依靠畜牧和耕种维持生活。他们有自己的语言，十分难懂。经过五天的路程以后，旅行者能到达这个王国的首都押赤[7]。这是一个十分雄伟壮丽的城市，城中有许多商人和工匠，这儿的居民有好几种：有伊斯兰教徒、佛教徒，还有一些基督教聂斯托利派的信徒。小麦和米在这里的产量都十分丰富，但是他们不吃面包，因为他们认为面包是不健康的食物。当地居民主要吃大米，还用大米加上香料酿成美酒，酒水十分清澈爽口。他们将白色的玛瑙贝作为货币，他们曾经用这种贝壳制作狗项圈。八十个玛瑙贝价值一萨吉的银币，相当于两个威尼斯金币；八萨吉的银币则价值一个金币。他们同样烧制盐水，制成的盐块可供全国居民食用。这个地区的君主从这些盐中得到了许多税收。这里的男人们不介意别的男人触摸自己的妻子，只要她自己同意即可。

在离开这个王国之前，我还要向大家讲述一件事情。这个地区有一个方圆一百英里的大湖，盛产各种优质鱼类，体型也很大。当地居民食用生肉，包括家禽、羊肉、牛肉和水牛肉。更穷一点的居民会拿走从动物身上取下的肝脏，将它切成小块，放入蒜和酱油，然后吃掉，他们也这样处理其他肉类。贵族们也吃生肉，只是他们会将肉剁碎，加入大蒜、酱油和香料，然后就像我们吃煮熟的肉一样将它们吃掉。

离开押赤继续向西走十日，旅行者就能到达哈剌章省的另一王国，这个国家的首都就叫做哈剌章。这里的居民同样是佛教徒，并且臣服于大汗。这个王国的君主是大汗的儿子忽哥赤[8]。这个地区的大河中也含有金沙，并且有些湖中和山里有天然金块。由于金矿十分丰富，所以这个地区只用六个银币就能换取一萨吉金币。他们也用玛瑙贝当做货币，但是这些贝壳不是本地产的，而是从印度传来的。

这个地区还生活着大型的蛇和鳄鱼。它们的长相十分难看，其中有一些身长近十步，身体像一个粗壮的柱子，腰身长达十掌。靠近头部的地方有两只粗短的腿，没有脚，但是有三个爪子，两短一长，和猎鹰、狮子的爪子很像。它们有着巨大的脑袋，眼睛向外突出，比面包还大。它们张大了嘴，一口就能吞下一个人，牙齿也十分锋利。总的来说，如此凶残巨大的怪兽，不管是人还是动物见到了都会害怕。它们中也有体型稍小的，长八步、六步或者五步。

让我告诉大家如何捕捉这些鳄鱼。由于白天天气炎热，鳄鱼会躲在地下，到了晚上，它们就会出洞捕食它们能够得到的一切猎物。它们还会到小溪和河中饮水。由于身体特别庞大笨重，当它们夜间出来觅食或者饮水经过沙地时，就会留下深深的痕迹，就像树桩在地上拖过一样。专门捕捉它们的猎人就会在它们经常出没的地方设置陷阱。他们将粗壮的木桩插入泥土中，将木桩的顶端装上大概有一掌长的铁矛，并且让铁矛向鳄鱼爬来的方向倾斜，然后将这些用沙子覆盖，使鳄鱼无法察觉。这种陷阱很多，当鳄鱼沿着痕迹去饮水时，就会掉进陷阱，而铁矛会刺穿它的胸腔，撕裂它的肚皮，使它们立刻毙命。猎人能够通过鸟的叫声得知鳄鱼被杀死，然后他才敢处理猎物。否则，他是不敢靠近鳄鱼的。

当猎人通过这种方法捉住鳄鱼后，他们从鳄鱼的腹中取出胆汁，这种胆汁是十分名贵的药材，可以卖出很高的价钱。如果某人被疯狗咬了，只要喝下半便士重的胆汁就能立刻被治愈；正在分娩的孕妇，无法忍受疼痛，只要喝下一些胆汁就能立刻顺利分娩；如果有人长出各种脓包，只要涂上胆汁，一两天就能痊愈。出于这些作用，鳄鱼的胆汁在这些地区的价格十分昂贵。

还有一些关于这些鳄鱼的事情：它们还会爬进狮子、熊和其他野兽搭的洞穴，捕食幼兽。

这个地区的马匹都十分强壮，它们在很小的时候就被出口到印度。大家要知道，根据当地的习惯，这儿的马都会被去掉两到三节尾骨，这样马尾巴就不会打到骑马的人，奔跑的时候也不会刷刷地挥动尾巴，因为当地的居民认为挥动马尾巴是很难看的。这里居民骑马的方式和法兰西人一样，都使用长长的马镫，这是相对于鞑靼人和其他民族骑马射箭时使用的短马镫而言的，短马镫可以使他们在射箭时站立起来，便于射箭。

他们用水牛皮做成盔甲穿在身上，使用长矛和盾，同样也用弩，并且所有的箭头都蘸有毒药。当地居民，无论男女，尤其那些心怀鬼胎的人，都随身携带毒药。如果有人在犯下罪行被捕后，很可能遭受折磨，为了免于忍受鞭打之苦，他们就选择服毒自杀。但是，统治者发现了他们的诡计后，就随时备有狗屎，当他们吞下毒药后，统治者就立刻将狗屎塞到他的口中，让他们将毒药呕吐出来。这就是他们对这种行为的补救办法，这种办法十分有效。在被大汗征服前，他们还有一种习惯：当有上流社会的绅士或者“善良的化身”到这个地区的某户居民家里住宿时，他们就会用毒药或者其他手段在夜晚杀死他。他们这样做并不是为了谋财，而是他们希望死者的善良、智慧和灵魂会留在他们的家中。这样，在大汗征服他们前，很多人都由于这个原因死去。由于大汗严厉禁止这种做法，出于对大汗的害怕，在最近的三十五年中，他们已经改掉了这个恶习。

注释

[1]这里所说的西藏主要包括现在的四川省、云南省以及现在西藏的东部地区。

[2]根据描述，此动物应为雄麝。麝香为雄麝的肚脐和生殖器之间的腺囊的分泌物，干燥后呈颗粒状或块状，有特殊的香气，有苦味，可以制成香料，也可以入药。——译者注

[3]位于云南省丽江市附近。——译者注

[4]指滇池。——译者注

[5]指金沙江。——译者注

[6]指云南大理。——译者注

[7]指云南昆明。——译者注

[8]指忽必烈汗第五子：云南王。——译者注

The Road to Cathay

You must know that after Chinghiz Khan the next ruler was Kuyuk Khan, the third Batu Khan, the fourth Altou Khan, the fifth Mongu Khan and the sixth Kubilai Khan, who is greater and more powerful than any of the others. For all the other five put together would not have such power as belongs to Kubilai. And here is a greater claim still, which I can confidently assert: that all the emperors of the world and all the kings of Christians and of Saracens combined would not possess such power or be able to accomplish so much as this same Kubilai, the Great Khan. And this I will clearly demonstrate to you in this book.

You should know that all the great lords who are of the lineage of Chinghiz Khan are conveyed for burial to a great mountain called Altai. When one of them dies, even if it be at a distance of a hundred days' journey from this mountain, he must be brought here for burial. And here is a remarkable fact: when the body of a Great Khan is being carried to this mountain—be it forty days' journey or more or less—all those who are encountered along the route by which the body is being conveyed are put to the sword by the attendants who are escorting it. ‘Go!’ they cry, ‘and serve your lord in the next world.’ For they truly believe that all those whom they put to death must go and serve the Khan in the next world. And they do the same thing with horses: when the Khan dies, they kill all his best horses, so that he may have them in the next world. It is a fact that, when Mongu Khan died, more than 20,000 men were put to death, having encountered his body on the way to burial.

Since we have begun to speak of the Tartars, I have much to tell you about them. They spend the winter in steppes and warm regions where there is good grazing and pasturage for their beasts. In summer they live in cool regions, among mountains and valleys, where they find water and woodland as well as pasturage. A further advantage is that in cooler regions there are no horse-flies or gad-flies or similar pests to annoy them and their beasts. They spend two or three months climbing steadily and grazing as they go, because if they confined their grazing to one spot there would not be grass enough for the multitude of their flocks.

They have circular houses made of wood and covered with felt, which they carry about with them on four-wheeled wagons wherever they go. For the framework of rods is so neatly and skilfully constructed that it is light to carry. And every time they unfold their house and set it up, the door is always facing south. They also have excellent two-wheeled carts covered with black felt, of such good design that if it rained all the time the rain would never wet anything in the cart. These are drawn by oxen and camels. And in these carts they carry their wives and children and all they need in the way of utensils.

And I assure you that the womenfolk buy and sell and do all that is needful for their husbands and households. For the men do not bother themselves about anything but hunting and warfare and falconry. They live on meat and milk and game and on Pharaoh's rats, which are abundant everywhere in the steppes. They have no objection to eating the flesh of horses and dogs and drinking mares' milk. In fact they eat flesh of any sort. Not for anything in the world would one of them touch another's wife; they are too well assured that such a deed is wrongful and disgraceful. The wives are true and loyal to their husbands and very good at their household tasks. Even if there are as many as ten or twenty of them in one household, they live together in a concord and unity beyond praise, so that you would never hear a harsh word spoken. They all devote themselves to their various tasks and the care of the children, who are held among them in common. Their mode of marriage is such that any man may take as many wives as he pleases, even up to a hundred, if he is able to support them. The husband gives a dowry to his wife's mother; the wife gives nothing to the husband. You must understand that the first wife is reckoned the best and enjoys the highest status. Because they have so many wives, they have more children than other men. They may marry their cousins; and, when a father dies, the eldest son marries his father's wives, excluding his own mother. He may also marry his brother's wife, if the brother dies. When they take a wife, they hold a great wedding celebration.

I will now tell you of their religion. They say that there is a High God, exalted and heavenly, to whom they offer daily prayer with thurible and incense, but only for a sound understanding and good health. They also have a god of their own whom they call Natigai. They say that he is an earthly god and watches over their children, their beasts, and their crops. They pay him great reverence and honour; for each man has one in his house. They make this god of felt and cloth and keep him in their house; and they also make the god's wife and children. They set his wife at his left hand and his children in front. And they treat them with great reverence. When they are about to have a meal, they take a lump of fat and smear the god's mouth with it, and the mouths of his wife and children. Then they take some broth and pour it outside the door of the house. When they have done this, they say that their god and his household have had their share. After this they eat and drink. You should know that they drink mare's milk; but they subject it to a process that makes it like white wine and very good to drink, and they call it koumiss.

As to their costume, the rich wear cloth of gold and silk and rich furs—sable and ermine and miniver and fox. And all their trappings are very fine and very costly. Their weapons are bows and swords and clubs; but they rely mainly on their bows, for they are excellent archers. On their backs they wear an armour of buffalo hide or some other leather which is very tough.

They are stout fighters, excelling in courage and hardihood. Let me explain how it is that they can endure more than any other men. Often enough, if need be, they will go or stay for a whole month without provisions, drinking only the milk of a mare and eating wild game of their own taking. Their horses, meanwhile, support themselves by grazing, so that there is no need to carry barley or straw. They are very obedient to their masters. In case of need they will stay all night on horseback under arms, while their mount goes on steadily cropping the grass. They are of all men in the world the best able to endure exertion and hardship and the least costly to maintain and therefore the best adapted for conquering territory and over-throwing kingdoms.

Now the plan on which their armies are marshalled is this. When a lord of the Tartars goes out to war with a following of 100,000 horsemen, he has them organized as follows. He has one captain in command of every ten, one of every hundred, one of every thousand and one of every ten-thousand, so that he never needs to consult with more than ten men. In the same way each commander of ten-thousand or a thousand or a hundred consults only with his ten immediate subordinates, and each man is answerable to his own chief. When the supreme commander wishes to send someone on some operation, he orders the commander of ten-thousand to give him a thousand men; the latter orders the captain of a thousand to contribute his share. So the order is passed down, each commander being required to furnish his quota towards the thousand. At each stage it is promptly received and executed. For they are all obedient to the word of command more than any other people in the world. You should know that the unit of 100,000 is called a tuk, that of 10,000 a tomaun, and there are corresponding terms for the thousands, the hundreds, and the tens.

When an army sets out on some operation, whether it be in the plains or in the mountains, 200 men are sent two days' ride in advance as scouts, and as many to the rear and on the flanks; that is four scouting parties in all. And this they do so that the army cannot be attacked without warning.

When they are going on a long expedition, they carry no baggage with them. They each carry two leather flasks to hold the milk they drink and a small pot for cooking meat. They also carry a small tent to shelter them from the rain. In case of need, they will ride a good ten days' journey without provisions and without making a fire, living only on the blood of their horses; for every rider pierces a vein of his horse and drinks the blood. They also have their dried milk, which is solid like paste; and this is how they dry it. First they bring the milk to the boil. At the appropriate moment they skim off the cream that floats on the surface and put it in another vessel to be made into butter, because so long as it remained the milk could not be dried. Then they stand the milk in the sun and leave it to dry. When they are going on an expedition, they take about ten pounds of this milk; and every morning they take out about half a pound of it and put it in a small leather flask, shaped like a gourd, with as much water as they please. Then, while they ride, the milk in the flask dissolves into a fluid, which they drink. And this is their breakfast.

When they join battle with their enemies, these are the tactics by which they prevail. They are never ashamed to have recourse to flight. They manoeuvre freely, shooting at the enemy, now from this quarter, now from that. They have trained their horses so well that they wheel this way or that as quickly as a dog would do. When they are pursued and take to flight, they fight as well and as effectively as when they are face to face with the enemy. When they are fleeing at top speed, they twist round with their bows and let fly their arrows to such good purpose that they kill the horses of the enemy and the riders too. When the enemy thinks he has routed and crushed them, then he is lost; for he finds his horses killed and not a few of his men. As soon as the Tartars decide that they have killed enough of the pursuing horses and horsemen, they wheel round and attack and acquit themselves so well and so courageously that they gain a complete victory. By these tactics they have already won many battles and conquered many nations.

All that I have told you concerns the usages and customs of the genuine Tartars. But nowadays their stock has degenerated. Those who live in Cathay have adopted the manners and customs of the idolaters and abandoned their own faith, while those who live in the Levant have adopted the manners of the Saracens.

Let me tell you next of the Tartar fashion of maintaining justice. For a petty theft, not amounting to a capital offence, the culprit receives seven strokes of the rod, or seventeen or twenty-seven or thirty-seven or forty-seven, ascending thus by tens to 107 in proportion to the magnitude of his crime. And many die of this flogging. If the offender has stolen a horse or otherwise incurred the death penalty, he is chopped in two by the sword. If, however, he can afford to pay, and is prepared to pay nine times the value of what he has stolen, he escapes other punishment.

All the great lords, and other owners of flocks and herds, including horses, mares, camels, oxen, cows, and other large beasts, have them branded with their own mark. Then they turn them loose to graze on the plains and hillsides with no herdsman to guard them. If the herds intermingle, each beast is duly returned to the owner whose mark it bears. Their sheep and rams are entrusted to the care of shepherds. All their beasts are of great size and fat and exceedingly fine.

Here is another strange custom which I had forgot-ten to describe. You may take it for a fact that, when there are two men of whom one has had a male child who has died at the age of four, or what you will, and the other has had a female child who has also died, they arrange a marriage between them. They give the dead girl to the dead boy as a wife and draw up a deed of matrimony. Then they burn this deed, and declare that the smoke that rises into the air goes to their children in the other world and that they get wind of it and regard themselves as husband and wife. They hold a great wedding feast and scatter some of the food here and there and declare that that too goes to their children in the other world. And here is something else that they do. They draw pictures on paper of men in the guise of slaves, and of horses, clothes, coins, and furniture and then burn them; and they declare that all these become the possessions of their children in the next world. When they have done this, they consider themselves to be kinsfolk and uphold their kinship just as firmly as if the children were alive.

Now I have given you an unvarnished account of the usages and customs of the Tartars. Not that I have told you of the lofty state of the Great Khan, the Great Lord of all the Tartars, or of his high imperial court. I will tell you all about them in this book in due time and place. For they are truly wonderful things to set down in writing. Meanwhile, let us resume the thread of our discourse in the great plain where we were when we began to talk about the doings of the Tartars.

If the traveller leaves Karakorum and Altai, where, as I have told you, the Tartars bury their dead, and journeys towards the north, he traverses a country called the plain of Bargu, which extends for forty days' journey. The inhabitants, who are called Mekrit, are a savage race. Their livelihood depends on beasts, mostly reindeer, which they even use for riding. They resemble the Tartars in their customs and are subject to the Great Khan. They have neither corn nor wine. In summer they have plenty of game for hunting, both beasts and birds; but in winter neither beast nor bird lives there because of the great cold. The birds especially congregate during the moulting season in summer round the numerous lakes, meres, and marshes; and when they have shed all their old plumage, so that they cannot fly, the hunters take as many as they want. They also live on fish.

At the end of forty days, the traveller reaches the Ocean. Here there are mountains where peregrine falcons build their nests. You must understand that there are neither men nor women here, nor beasts nor birds, except a species of bird called bargherlac on which the falcons prey. They are of the size of partridges and have feet like parrots and tails like swallows. They are strong fliers. When the Great Khan wants eyasses of the peregrine falcon, he sends for them all the way to this district. The islands in this ocean breed gerfalcons. I assure you that this region is so far north that the Pole Star is left behind towards the south. The gerfalcons of which I have spoken are so abundant here that the Great Khan has as many of them as he wants. So you must not suppose that those who export them from Christendom to the Tartars send them to the Great Khan; they actually export them to the Khan of the Levant, to Arghun or whoever it may be.

[...]

If we leave this province and city and go on our way for three days, we shall find a city called Chagan-nor where there is a large palace belonging to the Great Khan. He enjoys staying in this palace because there are lakes and rivers here in plenty, well stocked with swans. There are also fine plains, teeming with cranes, pheasants and partridges, and many other sorts of wild fowl; and that is a further attraction for the Great Khan, who is a keen sportsman and takes great delight in hawking for birds with falcons and gerfalcons. There are five sorts of crane, which I will describe to you. One is entirely black, like a raven, and very large. The second is pure white. Its wings are beautiful, with all the plumage studded with round eyes like those of a peacock but of the colour of burnished gold. It has a scarlet and black head and a black and white neck and is larger than any of the others. The third species is like the cranes we know. The fourth is small, with long plumes by its ears, scarlet and black in colour and very beautiful. The fifth is a very large bird, quite grey with shapely head coloured scarlet and black.

Beyond this city lies a valley in which the Great Khan keeps flocks of cators, which we call ‘great partridges', in such quantities that they are a sight to behold. In order to feed them, he regularly has crops sown on the slopes in summer, consisting of millet and panic and other favourite foods of such fowl, and allows no one to reap them, so that they may eat their fill. And many guards are set to watch these birds, to prevent anyone from taking them. And in winter their keepers scatter millet for them; and they are so used to this feeding that, if a man flings some of the grain on the ground, he has only to whistle and, wherever they may be, they flock to him. And the Great Khan has had many huts built, in which they spend the night. So, when he visits this country, he has a plentiful supply of these fowl, as many as he wants. And in winter, when they are nice and plump, since he does not stay there himself at this season because of the intense cold, he has camel-loads of them brought to him, wherever he may be.

When the traveller leaves this city and journeys north-north-east for three days, he comes to a city called Shang-tu, which was built by the Great Khan now reigning, whose name is Kubilai. In this city Kubilai Khan built a huge palace of marble and other ornamental stones. Its halls and chambers are all gilded, and the whole building is marvellously embellished and richly adorned. At one end it extends into the middle of the city; at the other it abuts on the city wall. At this end another wall, running out from the city wall in the direction opposite to the palace, encloses and encircles fully sixteen miles of park-land well watered with springs and streams and diversified with lawns. Into this park there is no entry except by way of the palace. Here the Great Khan keeps game animals of all sorts, such as hart, stag, and roebuck, to provide food for the gerfalcons and other falcons which he has here in mew. The gerfalcons alone amount to more than 200. Once a week he comes in person to inspect them in the mew. Often, too, he enters the park with a leopard on the crupper of his horse; when he feels inclined, he lets it go and thus catches a hart or stag or roebuck to give to the gerfalcons that he keeps in mew. And this he does for recreation and sport.

In the midst of this enclosed park, where there is a beautiful grove, the Great Khan has built another large palace, constructed entirely of canes, but with the interior all gilt and decorated with beasts and birds of very skilful workmanship. It is reared on gilt and varnished pillars, on each of which stands a dragon, entwining the pillar with his tail and supporting the roof on his outstretched limbs. The roof is also made of canes, so well varnished that it is quite waterproof. Let me explain how it is constructed. You must know that these canes are more than three palms in girth and from ten to fifteen paces long. They are sliced down through the middle from one knot to the next, thus making two shingles. These shingles are thick and long enough not only for roofing but for every sort of construction. The palace, then, is built entirely of such canes. As a protection against the wind each shingle is fastened with nails. And the Great Khan has had it so designed that it can be moved whenever he fancies; for it is held in place by more than 200 cords of silk.

The Great Khan stays at Shang-tu for three months in the year, June, July, and August, to escape from the heat and for the sake of the recreation it affords. During these three months he keeps the palace of canes erected; for the rest of the year it is dismantled. And he has had it so constructed that he can erect or dismantle it at pleasure.

When it comes to the 28th day of August, the Great Khan takes his leave of this city and of this palace. Every year he leaves on this precise day; and I will tell you why. The fact is that he has a stud of snow-white stallions and snow-white mares, without a speck of any other colour. Their numbers are such that the mares alone amount to more than 10,000. The milk of these mares may not be drunk by anyone who is not of the imperial lineage, that is to say of the lineage of the Great Khan. To this rule there is one exception; the milk may be drunk by a race of men called Horiat, by virtue of a special privilege granted to them by Chinghiz Khan because of a victory that they won with him in the old days. When these white steeds are grazing, such reverence is shown to them that if a great lord were going that way he could not pass through their midst, but would either wait till they had passed or go on until he had passed them. The astrologers and idolaters have told the Great Khan that he must make a libation of the milk of these mares every year on the 28th August, flinging it into the air and on the earth, so that the spirits may have their share to drink. They must have this, it is said, in order that they may guard all his possessions, men and women, beasts, birds, crops, and everything besides.

For this purpose the Great Khan leaves this palace and goes elsewhere. But, before we follow him, let me tell you of a strange thing which I had forgotten. You must know that, when the Great Khan was staying in his palace and the weather was rainy or cloudy, he had wise astrologers and enchanters who by their skill and their enchantments would dispel all the clouds and the bad weather from above the palace so that, while bad weather continued all around, the weather above the palace was fine. The wise men who do this are called Tibetans and Kashmiris; these are two races of men who practise idolatry. They know more of diabolic arts and enchantments than any other men. They do what they do by the arts of the Devil; but they make others believe that they do it by great holiness and by the work of God. For this reason they go about filthy and begrimed, with no regard for their own decency or for the persons who behold them; they keep the dirt on their faces, never wash or comb, but always remain in a state of squalor. These men have a peculiar custom, of which I will tell you. When a man is condemned to die and is put to death by the authorities, they take the body and cook and eat it. But, if anyone dies a natural death, they would never think of eating him.

Here is another remarkable fact about these enchanters, or Bakhshi[1] as they are called. I assure you that, when the Great Khan is seated in his high hall at his table, which is raised more than eight cubits above the floor, and the cups are on the floor of the hall, a good, ten paces distant from the table, and are full of wine and milk and other pleasant drinks, these Bakhshi contrive by their enchantment and their art that the full cups rise up of their own accord from the floor on which they have been standing and come to the Great Khan without anyone touching them. And this they do in the sight of 10,000 men. What I have told you is the plain truth without a word of falsehood. And those who are skilled in necromancy will confirm that it is perfectly feasible.

Here is a further fact about these Bakhshi. When the feast-days of their idols come round, they go to the Great Khan and say: ‘Sire, the feast of such-and-such of our idols is approaching.’ And they mention the name of some idol, whichever they may choose, and then continue: ‘You are aware, Sire, that it is the practice of this idol to cause bad weather and damage to our property and to cattle and crops unless it receives oblations and holocausts. We accordingly beseech you, Sire, that we may be given so many black-faced sheep, so much incense, so much aloes wood, so much of this and so much of that, so that we may offer great worship and sacrifice to our idols in order that they may save us, our bodies, cattle, and crops.’ This they say to the barons who surround the Great Khan and to those who hold authority under him. And these repeat their words to the Great Khan, so that the Bakhshi have everything they ask for in order to celebrate the feast of their idol. Thereupon they proceed to perform their rites with much chanting and festivity. For they regale their idols with fragrant incense from these sweet spices; and they cook the meat and set it before them and sprinkle some of the gravy here and there, declaring that the idols are taking as much of it as they want. That is how they do honour to their idols on their feast-days.

You may take it for a fact that all the idols have their own feasts on the days assigned to them, just as our saints have. They have huge monasteries and abbeys, of such a size that I assure you that some resemble small cities inhabited by more than 2,000 monks according to their usage, who are better dressed than other men. They wear their heads and chins clean-shaven. They make the most magnificent feasts for their idols with the most magnificent hymns and illuminations that were ever seen.

A further point about these Bakhshi is that among their other privileges they are entitled according to their order to take wives. And so they do, and rear children in plenty.

Besides these there is another order of devotees who are called Sien-seng. They are men of extreme abstinence according to their own observances, and lead a life of great austerity which I will describe to you. The plain truth is that all their lives long they eat nothing but bran, that is to say the husk left over from wheat flour. For they take wheaten grain and put it in hot water and leave it there a little while till all the kernel or marrow is separated from the husk; then they eat the bran that has been washed in this way, without anything to give it a flavour. They fast many times in the year, besides eating absolutely nothing but this bran of which I have told you. They have huge idols, and many of them, and sometimes they worship fire. The other devotees declare that those who live this life of abstinence are heretics, as it were Patarins, because they do not worship their idols in the same manner as the rest. There is one great difference between the two orders of devotees; those who observe the stricter rule would not take a wife for anything in the world. They also have their heads and chins shaven. They wear black and blue robes of sackcloth; if they should happen to wear silk, it is still of the same colours. They sleep on mats of wicker-work. Altogether they lead the most austere lives of any men in the world.

Their idols are all female, that is to say they all bear the names of women.

So much, then, for that. I will now tell you the truly amazing facts about the greatest lord of the Lords of all the Tartars, the right noble Great Khan whose name is Kubilai.

注释

[1]A special religious order, like the Dominican or Franciscan Friars.

Kubilai Khan

I have come to the point in our book at which I will tell you of the great achievements of the Great Khan now reigning. The title Khan means in our language ‘Great Lord of Lords’. And certainly he has every right to this title; for everyone should know that this Great Khan is the mightiest man, whether in respect of subjects or of territory or of treasure, who is in the world today or who ever has been, from Adam our first parent down to the present moment. And I will make it quite clear to you in our book that this is the plain truth, so that everyone will be convinced that he is indeed the greatest lord the world has ever known. Here, then, is my proof.

First, you should know that he is undoubtedly descended in the direct imperial line from Chinghiz Khan; for only one of that lineage may be Lord of all the Tartars. He is sixth in succession of the Great Khans of all the Tartars, having received the lordship and begun his reign in the year of Christ's nativity 1246. He won the lordship by his own valour and prowess and good sense; his kinsfolk and brothers tried to debar him from it, but by his great prowess he won it. And you must know that it was properly his by right. From the beginning of his reign down to the present year 1298 is a period of fortytwo years. His age today may well be as much as eightyfive years. Before he became Khan, he used to go out regularly on military expeditions and he showed himself a valiant soldier and a good commander. But thereafter he went out only once; that was in 1286, and I will tell you how it came about.

The fact is that a certain man named Nayan, who was Kubilai's uncle, found himself while still a youth the lord and ruler of many lands and provinces, so that he could easily raise a force of 400,000 horsemen. Like his ancestors before him, he was subject to the Great Khan. But, seeing that he was a young man of thirty with so many men at his command, he resolved that he would be subject no longer but to the best of his ability would despoil his overlord of the suzerainty. This Nayan, then, sent envoys to Kaidu, who was a great and powerful lord and nephew to the Great Khan, but had rebelled against him and was his bitter enemy. He proposed that Kaidu should attack the Great Khan from one quarter while he himself advanced against him from the opposite one, so as to despoil him of land and lordship. Kaidu welcomed the proposal and promised to have his forces fully arrayed by the date fixed and to march against the Great Khan. And this he was well able to do; for he could put 100,000 horsemen in the field. What need of more words? These two barons, Nayan and Kaidu, made their preparations and mustered a great array of horse and foot to attack the Great Khan.

When the Great Khan got word of this plot, he was not unduly perturbed; but like a wise man of approved valour he began to marshal his own forces, declaring that he would never wear his crown or hold his land if he did not bring these two false traitors to an evil end. He completed his preparations in twenty-two days, so secretly that no one knew anything about them except those of his own Council. He had assembled 260,000 cavalry and 100,000 infantry. The reason why he confined himself to this number was that these were drawn from the troops in his own immediate neighbourhood. His other armies, which were twelve in all and totalled an immense number of men, were so far away on campaigns of conquest in many parts that he could not have got them together at the right time and place. If he had assembled all his forces, he would have had as many horsemen as he could possibly desire and their numbers would have been past all reckoning or belief. The 360,000 men whom he actually levied were his falconers and other members of his personal bodyguard.

If he had summoned the armies which he keeps continually on guard over the provinces of Cathay, this would inevitably have consumed thirty or forty days. Moreover, the levy would have become common knowledge and Kaidu and Nayan would have joined forces and occupied strong and advantageous positions. But Kubilai intended by means of speed, the companion of victory, to forestall Nayan's preparations and catch him alone, because he could more easily defeat him alone than in conjunction with his ally.

This is a convenient place to record a few facts about the armies of the Great Khan. You should know that in all the provinces of Cathay and Manzi and in all the rest of his dominions there are many disaffected and disloyal subjects who, if they had the chance, would rebel against their lord. Accordingly, in every province where there are big cities and a large population he is obliged to maintain armies. These are stationed in the open country four or five miles from the cities, which are not allowed to have gates or walls so as to bar the ingress of anyone who chooses to enter. These armies the Great Khan changes every two years, and so likewise the captains who command them. And with this bridle to restrain them the people stay quiet, and cannot cause any disturbance or insurrection. Besides the pay which the Great Khan gives them regularly from the revenues of the provinces, these armies live on the immense herds of cattle that are assigned to them and on the milk which they send into the towns to sell in return for necessary provisions. They are stationed at various points, thirty, forty, or sixty days' journey apart.

When the Great Khan had mustered the mere handful of men of which I have spoken, he consulted his astrologers to learn whether he would defeat his enemies and bring his affairs to a happy issue. They assured him that he would deal with his enemies as he pleased. Thereupon he set out with all his forces and went on until after twenty days they came to a great plain where Nayan lay with all his forces, who were not less than 400,000 horsemen. They arrived early in the morning and caught the enemy completely unawares; the Great Khan had had all the roads so carefully watched that no one could come or go without being intercepted, and had thus ensured that the enemy had no suspicion of their approach. Indeed, when they arrived Nayan was in his tent, dallying in bed with his wife, to whom he was greatly attached.

What more shall I say? When the day of battle dawned, the Great Khan suddenly appeared on a mound that rose from the plain where Nayan's forces were bivouacked. They were quite at their ease, like men who had not the faintest suspicion that anyone was approaching with hostile intent. Indeed they felt so secure that they had posted no sentries round their camp and sent out no patrols to van or rear. And suddenly there was the Great Khan on the hill I have mentioned. He stood on the top of a wooden tower, full of crossbowmen and archers, which was carried by four elephants wearing stout leather armour draped with cloths of silk and gold. Above his head flew his banner with the emblem of the sun and moon, so high that it could be clearly seen on every side. His troops were marshalled in thirty squadrons of 10,000 mounted archers each, grouped in three divisions; and those on the left and right he flung out so that they encircled Nayan's camp in a moment. In front of every squadron of horse were 400 foot-soldiers with short pikes and swords. They were so trained that, whenever the cavalry purposed a retreat, they would jump on the horses' cruppers and flee with them; then, when the retreat was halted, they would dismount and slaughter the enemies' horses with their pikes. Such, then, was the formation in which the Great Khan's forces were drawn up round Nayan's camp in readiness for the battle.

When Nayan and his men saw the troops of the Great Khan surrounding their camp, they were utterly taken aback. They rushed to arms, arrayed themselves in haste, and formed their ranks in due order.

When both parties were lined up in battle array, so that nothing remained but to come to blows, then might be heard a tumult of many instruments, the shrilling of fifes and sound of men singing at the pitch of their voices. For the usage of the Tartars is such that when they are confronting the foe and marshalled for the fray they do not join battle till the drums begin to beat—that is the drums of the commander. While they wait for the beat of the drums, all the Tartar host sound their instruments and join in song. That is why the noise of instruments and of singing was so loud on both sides alike.

When all the troops were in readiness on both sides, then the drums of the Great Khan began to beat. After that there was no more delay; but the two armies fell upon each other with bow and sword and club, and a few with lances. The foot-soldiers had cross-bows also and other weapons in plenty. What more shall I say? This was the start of a bitter and bloody battle. Now you might see arrows flying like pelting rain, for the whole air was full of them. Now you might see horsemen and horses tumbling dead upon the ground. So loud was the shouting and the clash of armies that you could not have heard the thunder of heaven. You must know that Nayan was a baptized Christian and in this battle he had the cross of Christ on his standard.

What need to make a long story of it? Enough that this was the most hazardous fight and the most fiercely contested that ever was seen. Never in our time were so many men engaged on one battlefield, especially so many horsemen. So many died on either side that it was a marvel to behold. The battle raged from daybreak till noon, and for a long time its issue hung in the balance; Nayan's followers were so devoted to him, for he was an open-handed master, that they were ready to die rather than turn their backs. But in the end the victory fell to the Great Khan. When Nayan and his men saw that they could hold out no longer, they took to flight. But this availed them nothing; for Nayan was taken prisoner, and all his barons and his men surrendered to the Great Khan.

When the Great Khan learnt that Nayan was a prisoner, he commanded that he should be put to death. And this was how it was done. He was wrapped up tightly in a carpet and then dragged about so violently, this way and that, that he died. Their object in choosing this mode of death was so that the blood of the imperial lineage might not be spilt upon the earth, and that sun and air might not witness it.

After this victory all Nayan's men and barons did homage to the Great Khan and swore fealty to him. They were men of four different provinces named Chorcha, Kauli, Barskol, and Sikintinju.

After the Great Khan had won this victory, the various races of men who were there — Saracens, idolaters, and Jews, and many others who do not believe in God — made mock of the cross which Nayan had borne on his banner. They jeered at the Christians who were there: ‘See how the cross of your God has helped Nayan, who was a Christian!’ So unrestrained was their mockery and their jeering that it came to the ears of the Great Khan. Thereupon he rebuked those who mocked at the cross in his presence. Then he summoned many Christians who were there and began to comfort them. ‘If the cross of your God has not helped Nayan,’ he said, ‘it was for a very good reason. Because it is good, it ought not to lend its aid except in a good and righteous cause. Nayan was a traitor who broke faith with his liege lord. Hence the fate that has befallen him was a vindication of the right. And the cross of your God did well in not helping against the right.’ The Christians answered: ‘Most mighty lord, what you say is quite true. The cross would not lend itself to wrong-doing and disloyalty like that of Nayan, who was a traitor to his liege lord. He has received what he well deserved.’ Such were the words that passed between the Great Khan and the Christians about the cross that Nayan had borne on his standard.

After this victory over Nayan, the Great Khan returned to his capital of Khan-balik. And there he stayed, amid great rejoicing and merry-making.

As for that other rebellious baron, the prince whose name was Kaidu, when he heard of Nayan's defeat and death he was greatly perturbed and abandoned his campaign, for fear lest he might meet the same fate.

It was in the month of November that Kubilai returned to Khan-balik. And there he stayed till February and March, the season of our Easter. Learning that this was one of our principal feasts, he sent for all the Christians and desired them to bring him the book containing the four Gospels. After treating the book to repeated applications of incense with great ceremony, he kissed it devoutly and desired all his barons and lords there present to do the same. This usage he regularly observes on the principal feasts of the Christians, such as Easter and Christmas. And he does likewise on the principal feasts of the Saracens, Jews, and idolaters. Being asked why he did so, he replied: ‘There are four prophets who are worshipped and to whom all the world does reverence. The Christians say that their God was Jesus Christ, the Saracens Mahomet, the Jews Moses, and the idolaters Sakyamuni Burkhan, who was the first to be represented as God in the form of an idol. And I do honour and reverence to all four, so that I may be sure of doing it to him who is greatest in heaven and truest; and to him I pray for aid.’ But on the Great Khan's own showing he regards as truest and best the faith of the Christians, because he declares that it commands nothing that is not full of all goodness and holiness. He will not on any account allow the Christians to carry the cross before them, and this because on it suffered and died such a great man as Christ.

Someone may well ask why, since he regards the Christian faith as the best, he does not embrace it and become a Christian. The reason may be gathered from what he said to Messer Niccolò and Messer Maffeo when he sent them as emissaries to the Pope. They used from time to time to raise this matter with him; but he would reply: ‘On what grounds do you desire me to become a Christian? You see that the Christians who live in these parts are so ignorant that they accomplish nothing and are powerless. And you see that these idolaters do whatever they will; and when I sit at table the cups in the middle of the hall come to me full of wine or other beverages without anyone touching them, and I drink from them. They banish bad weather in any direction they choose and perform many marvels. And, as you know, their idols speak and give them such predictions as they ask. But, if I am converted to the faith of Christ and become a Christian, then my barons and others who do not embrace the faith of Christ will say to me: “What has induced you to undergo baptism and adopt the faith of Christ? What virtues or what miracles have you seen to his credit?” For these idolaters declare that what they do they do by their holiness and by virtue of their idols. Then I should not know what to answer, which would be a grave error in their eyes. And these idolaters, who by their arts and sciences achieve such great results, could easily compass my death. But do you go to your Pope and ask him on my behalf to send me a hundred men learned in your religion, who in the face of these idolaters will have the knowledge to condemn their performances and tell them that they too can do such things but will not, because they are done by diabolic art and evil spirits, and will show their mastery by making the idolaters powerless to perform these marvels in their presence. On the day when we see this, I too will condemn them and their religion. Then I will be baptized, and all my barons and magnates will do likewise, and their subjects in turn will undergo baptism. So there will be more Christians here than there are in your part of the world.’ And if, as was said at the beginning, men had really been sent by the Pope with the ability to preach our faith to the Great Khan, then assuredly he would have become a Christian. For it is known for a fact that he was most desirous to be converted.

You have heard how on this one campaign Kubilai led his army out to battle. On all his other enterprises or campaigns he used to send his sons or barons; but on this occasion he would have no one in command but himself, so serious and so culpable did he consider the rebellion of this baron. Let us now leave this subject and return to a recital of the great achievements of the Great Khan.

We have told you of his lineage and his age. We shall now relate how he dealt with those barons who acquitted themselves well in the battle and how with those who showed themselves cowards and poltroons. Of the former, he promoted those who were commanders of 100 men to the command of 1,000, and commanders of 1,000 to the command of 10,000; and he gave them lavish gifts of silver plate and tablets of authority, each according to his rank. For a commander of 100 has a tablet of silver; a commander of 1,000 a tablet of gold, or rather of silver gilt; and a commander of 10,000 a tablet of gold with a lion's head. The tablets of command over 100 or 1,000 weigh 120 saggi apiece, those with a lion's head weigh 220. On all these tablets is written a command in these words: ‘By the might of the Great God and the great grace he has given to our Emperor, blessed be the name of the Khan, and death and destruction to all who do not obey him.’ Let me add that all who have these tablets also have warrants setting forth in writing all the powers vested in them by their office.

As for the commander of 100,000, or the generalissimo of a great army, he has a tablet of gold weighing 300 saggi, with an inscription such as I have mentioned; and at the foot of the tablet is portrayed the lion, and above it is an image of the sun and moon. In addition he has warrants of high command and great authority. And whenever he goes riding he must carry an umbrella over his head in token of his exalted rank; and when he sits he must sit on a silver chair. To these dignitaries the Great Khan also gives a tablet with the sign of the gerfalcon; these tablets are given to the very great barons so that they may exercise full powers equivalent to his own. When one of them wishes to send a courier or other emissary, he is authorized to requisition a king's horses if he wishes; and when I say a king's horses, this naturally implies the horses of any other man.

Let me tell you next of the personal appearance of the Great Lord of Lords whose name is Kubilai Khan. He is a man of good stature, neither short nor tall but of moderate height. His limbs are well fleshed out and modelled in due proportion. His complexion is fair and ruddy like a rose, the eyes black and handsome, the nose shapely and set squarely in place.

He has four consorts who are all accounted his lawful wives; and his eldest son by any of these four has a rightful claim to be emperor on the death of the present Khan. They are called empresses, each by her own name. Each of these ladies holds her own court. None of them has less than 300 ladies in waiting, all of great beauty and charm. They have many eunuchs and many other men and women in attendance, so that each one of these ladies has in her court 10,000 persons. When he wishes to lie with one of his four wives, he invites her to his chamber; or sometimes he goes to his wife's chamber.

He also has many concubines, about whom I will tell you. There is a province inhabited by Tartars who are called Kungurat, which is also the name of their city. They are a very good-looking race with fair complexions. Every two years or so, according to his pleasure, the Great Khan sends emissaries to this province to select for him out of the most beautiful maidens, according to the standard of beauty which he lays down for them, some four or five hundred, more or less as he may decide. This is how the selection is made. When the emissaries arrive, they summon to their presence all the maidens of the province. And there valuers are deputed for the task. After inspecting and surveying every girl feature by feature, her hair, her face, her eyebrows, her mouth, her lips, and every other feature, to see whether they are well-formed and in harmony with her person, the valuers award to some a score of sixteen marks, to others seventeen, eighteen, or twenty, or more or less according to the degree of their beauty. And, if the Great Khan has ordered them to bring him all who score twenty marks, or perhaps twenty-one, according to the number ordered, these are duly brought. When they have come to his presence, he has them assessed a second time by other valuers, and then the thirty or forty with the highest score are selected for his chamber. These are first allotted, one by one, to the barons' wives, who are instructed to observe them carefully at night in their chambers, to make sure that they are virgins and not blemished or defective in any member, that they sleep sweetly without snoring, and that their breath is sweet and they give out no unpleasant odour. Then those who are approved are divided into groups of six, who serve the Khan for three days and three nights at a time in his chamber and his bed, ministering to all his needs. And he uses them according to his pleasure. After three days and nights, in come the next six damsels. And so they continue in rotation throughout the year. While some of the group are in attendance in their lord's chamber, the others are waiting in an antechamber hard by. If he is in need of anything from outside, such as food or drink, the damsels inside the chamber pass word to those outside, who immediately get it ready. In this way the Khan is served by no one except these damsels. As for the other damsels, who are rated at a lower score, they remain with the Khan's other women in the palace, where they are instructed in needle-work, glove-making, and other elegant accomplishments. When some nobleman is looking for a wife, the Great Khan gives him one of these damsels with a great dowry. And in this way he marries them all off honourably.

You may be inclined to ask: ‘Do not the men of this province regard it as a grievance that the Great Khan robs them of their daughters?’ Most certainly not. They esteem it a great favour and distinction; and those who have beautiful daughters are delighted that he should deign to accept them. They reason thus: ‘If my daughter is born under a good planet and happy auspices, the Khan will be better able to satisfy her than I; he will marry her to a noble husband, which is more than my means would permit of.’ And if she does not behave well or it does not turn out well for her, then the father says: ‘This has happened to her because her planet was not propitious.’

You should know further that by his four wives the Great Khan has twenty-two male children. The eldest was called Chinghiz, for love of the good Chinghiz Khan. He was to have succeeded his father as Great Khan and lord of the whole empire. But it happened that he died, leaving a son named Temur; this Temur is now destined to be Great Khan and lord, because he is the son of the eldest son of the Great Khan. I can assure you that this Temur is a man of wisdom and prowess, as he has already proved many times on the field of battle.

By his mistresses the Great Khan has a further twenty-five sons, all good men and brave soldiers. And each of them is a great baron.

Of his sons by his four wives, seven are kings of great provinces and kingdoms. They all exercise their authority well, lacking neither prudence nor prowess. And for this there is good reason, for I give you my word that their father the Great Khan is the wisest man and the ablest in all respects, the best ruler of subjects and of empire and the man of the highest character of all that have ever been in the whole history of the Tartars.

You must know that for three months in the year, December, January, and February, the Great Khan lives in the capital city of Cathay, whose name is Khanbalik. In this city he has his great palace, which I will now describe to you.

The palace is completely surrounded by a square wall, each side being a mile in length so that the whole circuit is four miles. It is a very thick wall and fully ten paces in height. It is all whitewashed and battlemented. At each corner of this wall stands a large palace of great beauty and splendour, in which the Great Khan keeps his military stores. In the middle of each side is another palace resembling the comer palaces, so that round the whole circuit of the walls there are eight palaces, all serving as arsenals. Each is reserved for a particular type of munition. Thus, one contains saddles, bridles, stirrups, and other items of a horse's harness. In another are bows, bow-strings, quivers, arrows, and other requisites of archery. In a third are cuirasses, corselets, and other armour of boiled leather. And so with the rest.

In the southern front of this wall there are five gates. There is one great gate in the middle, which is never opened except when the Great Khan is leaving or entering. Next to this, one on either side, are two small gates, by which everyone else enters. There are also two more large gates, one near each corner, which are likewise used by other people.

Within this outer wall is another wall, somewhat greater in length than in breadth. In this also there are eight palaces, just like the others, and used in the same way to house military stores. It also has five gates in its southern front, corresponding to those in the outer wall. In each of the other sides it has one gate only; and so has the outer wall.

Within this wall is the Great Khan's palace, which I will now describe to you. It is the largest that was ever seen. It has no upper floor, but the basement on which it stands is raised ten palms above the level of the surrounding earth; and all round it there runs a marble wall level with the basement, two paces in thickness. The foundation of the palace lies within this wall, so that as much of the wall as projects beyond it forms a sort of terrace, on which men can walk right round and inspect the outside of the palace. At the outer edge of this wall is a fine gallery with columns, where men can meet and talk. At each face of the palace is a great marble staircase, ascending from ground level to the top of this marble wall, which affords an entry into the palace.

The palace itself has a very high roof. Inside, the walls of the halls and chambers are all covered with gold and silver and decorated with pictures of dragons and birds and horsemen and various breeds of beasts and scenes of battle. The ceiling is similarly adorned, so that there is nothing to be seen anywhere but gold and pictures. The hall is so vast and so wide that a meal might well be served there for more than 6,000 men. The number of chambers is quite bewildering. The whole building is at once so immense and so well constructed that no man in the world, granted that he had the power to effect it, could imagine any improvement in design or execution. The roof is all ablaze with scarlet and green and blue and yellow and all the colours that are, so brilliantly varnished that it glitters like crystal and the sparkle of it can be seen from far away. And this roof is so strong and so stoutly built as to last for many a long year.

In the rear part of the palace are extensive apartments, both chambers and halls, in which are kept the private possessions of the Khan. Here is stored his treasure: gold, and silver, precious stones and pearls, and his gold and silver vessels. And here too are his ladies and his concubines. In these apartments everything is arranged for his comfort and convenience, and outsiders are not admitted.

Between the inner and the outer walls, of which I have told you, are stretches of park-land with stately trees. The grass grows here in abundance, because all the paths are paved and built up fully two cubits above the level of the ground, so that no mud forms on them and no rain-water collects in puddles, but the moisture trickles over the lawns, enriching the soil and promoting a lush growth of herbage. In these parks there is a great variety of game, such as white harts, musk-deer, roebuck, stags, squirrels, and many other beautiful animals. All the area within the walls is full of these graceful creatures, except the paths that people walk on.

In the north-western corner of the grounds is a pit of great size and depth, very neatly made, from which the earth was removed to build the mound of which I shall speak. The pit is filled with water by a fair-sized stream so as to form a sort of pond where the animals come to drink. The stream flows out through an aqueduct near the mound and fills another similar pit between the Great Khan's palace and that of Chinghiz his son, from which the earth was dug for the same purpose. These pits or ponds contain a great variety of fish. For the Great Khan has had them stocked with many different species, so that, whenever he feels in-clined, he may have his pick. At the farther end of the pond there is an outlet for the stream, through which it flows away. It is so contrived that at the entrance and the outlet there are gratings of iron and copper to stop the fish from escaping. There are also swans and other water-fowl. It is possible to pass from one palace to the other by way of a bridge over this stream.

On the northern side of the palace, at the distance of a bow-shot but still within the walls, the Great Khan has had made an earthwork, that is to say a mound fully 100 paces in height and over a mile in circumference. This mound is covered with a dense growth of trees, all evergreens that never shed their leaves. And I assure you that whenever the Great Khan hears tell of a particularly fine tree he has it pulled up, roots and all and with a quantity of earth, and transported to this mound by elephants. No matter how big the tree may be, he is not deterred from transplanting it. In this way he has assembled here the finest trees in the world. In addition, he has had the mound covered with lapis lazuli, which is intensely green, so that trees and rock alike are as green as green can be and there is no other colour to be seen. For this reason it is called the Green Mound. On top of this mound, in the middle of the summit, he has a large and handsome palace, and this too is entirely green. And I give you my word that mound and trees and palace form a vision of such beauty that it gladdens the hearts of all beholders. It was for the sake of this entrancing view that the Great Khan had them constructed, as well as for the refreshment and recreation they might afford him.

Let me tell you also that beside this palace the Great Khan has had another one built, just like his own and no whit inferior. This is built to be occupied by his son when he shall succeed him as ruler. That is why it is built in the same style and on the same scale as the Great Khan's own, which I have described above, and with walls of equal size. This is the residence of Temur the son of Chinghiz, of whom I have already spoken, who is destined to be Khan; and he observes the same ceremony and usages as the Great Khan, because he has been chosen to rule after the Great Khan's death. The bull and seal of empire are his already, though so long as the Great Khan is alive he does not enjoy them so absolutely.

Now that I have told you about these palaces, I will go on to tell you of the great town of Taidu in which they are situated, and why and how it came to be built.

On the banks of a great river in the province of Cathay there stood an ancient city of great size and splendour which was named Khan-balik, that is to say in our language ‘the Lord's City’. Now the Great Khan discovered through his astrologers that this city would rebel and put up a stubborn resistance against the Empire. For this reason he had this new city built next to the old one, with only the river between. And he removed the inhabitants of the old city and settled them in the new one, which is called Taidu, leaving only those whom he did not suspect of any rebellious designs; for the new city was not big enough to house all those who lived in the old.

Taidu is built in the form of a square with all its sides of equal length and a total circumference of twenty-four miles. It is enclosed by earthern ramparts, twenty paces high and ten paces thick at the base; the sides slope inwards from base to summit, so that at the top the width is only about three paces. They are all battlemented and white-washed. They have twelve gates, each surmounted by a fine, large palace. So on each of the four sides there are three gates and five palaces, because there is an additional palace at each corner. In these palaces there are immense halls, which house the weapons of the city guards.

I assure you that the streets are so broad and straight that from the top of the wall above one gate you can see along the whole length of the road to the gate opposite. The city is full of fine mansions, inns, and dwelling-houses. All the way down the sides of every main street there are booths and shops of every sort. All the building sites throughout the city are square and measured by the rule; and on every site stand large and spacious mansions with ample courtyards and gardens. These sites are allotted to heads of households, so that one belongs to such-and-such a person, representing such-and-such a family, the next to a representative of another family, and so all the way along. Every site or block is surrounded by good public roads; and in this way the whole interior of the city is laid out in squares like a chess-board with such masterly precision that no description can do justice to it.

In this city there is such a multitude of houses and of people, both within the walls and without, that no one could count their number. Actually there are more people outside the walls in the suburbs than in the city itself. There is a suburb outside every gate, such that each one touches the neighbouring suburbs on either side. They extend in length for three or four miles. And in every suburb or ward, at about a mile's distance from the city, there are many fine hostels which provide lodging for merchants coming from different parts: a particular hostel is assigned to every nation, as we might say one for the Lombards, another for the Germans, another for the French. Merchants and others come here on business in great numbers, both because it is the Khan's residence and because it affords a profitable market. And the suburbs have as fine houses and mansions as the city, except of course for the Khan's palace.

You must know that no one who dies is buried in the city. If an idolater dies there, his body is taken to the place of cremation, which lies outside all the suburbs. And so with the others also; when they die they are taken right outside the suburbs for burial. Similarly, no act of violence is performed inside the city, but only outside the suburbs.

Let me tell you also that no sinful woman dares live within the city, unless it be in secret — no woman of the world, that is, who prostitutes her body for money. But they all live in the suburbs, and there are so many of them that no one could believe it. For I assure you that there are fully 20,000 of them, all serving the needs of men for money. They have a captain general, and there are chiefs of hundreds and of thousands responsible to the captain. This is because, whenever ambassadors come to the Great Khan on his business and are maintained at his expense, which is done on a lavish scale, the captain is called upon to provide one of these women every night for the ambassador and one for each of his attendants. They are changed every night and receive no payment; for this is the tax they pay to the Great Khan. From the number of these prostitutes you may infer the number of traders and other visitors who are daily coming and going here about their business.

You may take it for a fact that more precious and costly wares are imported into Khan-balik than into any other city in the world. Let me give you particulars. All the treasures that come from India — precious stones, pearls, and other rarities — are brought here. So too are the choicest and costliest products of Cathay itself and every other province. This is on account of the Great Khan himself, who lives here, and of the lords and ladies and the enormous multitude of hotel-keepers and other residents and of visitors who attend the courts held here by the Khan. That is why the volume and value of the imports and of the internal trade exceed those of any other city in the world. It is a fact that every day more than 1,000 cart-loads of silk enter the city; for much cloth of gold and silk is woven here. Furthermore, Khan-balik is surrounded by more than 200 other cities, near and far, from which traders come to it to sell and to buy. So it is not surprising that it is the centre of such a traffic as I have described.

In the centre of the city stands a huge palace in which is a great bell; in the evening this peals three times as a signal that no one may go about the town. Once this bell has sounded the due number of peals, no one ventures abroad in the city except in case of childbirth or illness; and those who are called out by such emergencies are obliged to carry lights. Every night there are guards riding about the city in troops of thirty or forty, to discover whether anyone is going about at an abnormal hour, that is after the third peal of the bell. If anyone is found, he is promptly arrested and clapped into prison. Next morning he is examined by the officials appointed for the purpose, and if he is found guilty of any offence, he is punished according to its gravity with a proportionate number of strokes of a rod, which sometimes cause death. They employ this mode of punishment in order to avoid bloodshed, because their Bakhshi, that is, the adepts in astrology, declare that it is wrong to shed human blood.

It is ordered that every gateway must be guarded by 1,000 men. You must not suppose that this guard is maintained out of mistrust of the inhabitants. It is there, in fact, partly as a mark of respect to the Great Khan who lives in the city, partly as a check upon evil-doers — although, because of the prophecy of his astrologers, the Khan does harbour certain suspicions of the people of Cathay.

Let me now tell you how on one occasion the Cathayans in the city actually did plan to revolt. It is an established practice, as will be explained below, that twelve men are appointed with full powers of disposal over territories and public offices at their own discretion. Among these was a Saracen called Ahmad, a man of great energy and ability, who surpassed all the rest in his authority and influence over the Great Khan. The Emperor was so fond of him that he gave him a completely free hand. It seems, as was learnt after his death, that this Ahmad used to bewitch the Emperor by his black arts to such purpose that he won a ready hearing and acceptance for everything he said; and so he was free to do whatever he chose. He used to make all appointments to office and punish all delinquents. Whenever he wished to cause the death of anyone whom he hated, whether justly or unjustly, he would go to the Emperor and say to him: ‘So-and-so deserves to die, because he has offended your Majesty in such-and-such a way.’ Then the Emperor would say: ‘Do as you think best.’ And Ahmad would thereupon put him to death. Therefore, seeing the complete liberty he enjoyed and the absolute faith reposed in him by the Emperor, men did not venture to thwart him in anything. There was no one so great or of such authority as not to fear him. If anyone was accused by him to the Emperor of a capital offence and wished to plead his cause, he had no chance to rebut the charge or state his own case, because he could count on no support—everyone was too much afraid of going against Ahmad. In this way, he caused the death of many innocent people.

Furthermore, there was not a pretty woman who took his fancy but he would have his will with her, taking her as a wife if she was not already married or otherwise enforcing her submission. Whenever he learnt that someone had a good-looking daughter, he would send his ruffians to the girl's father, and they would say: ‘What is your ambition? Well then, how about this daughter of yours? Give her to the Bailo (for Ahmad was called by the title of Bailo or Lord-Lieutenant) and we will see that he gives you such-and-such a post or office for three years.’ So the man would give him his daughter. Then Ahmad would say to the Khan: ‘Such-and-such a post is vacant, or will fall vacant on such-and-such a date. So-and-so is the right man for the job.’ To which the Khan would answer: ‘Do as you think best.’ And Ahmad would promptly instal him. By this means, playing partly on men's ambition for office, partly on their fears, Ahmad got possession of all the best-looking women as his wives and his concubines. He also had sons, some twenty-five of them, whom he installed in the highest offices. Some of them, under cover of their father's name, used to practise adultery in their father's fashion and commit many other crimes and abominations. Ahmad had also accumulated an immense fortune, because everyone who aspired to any post or office used to send him a handsome present.

Ahmad exercised this authority as governor for twenty-two years. At length the people of the country, that is the Cathayans, seeing that there was no end to the iniquities and abominations that he perpetrated beyond all measure at the expense of their womenfolk as well as their own persons, reached the point where they could endure it no longer. They made up their minds to assassinate him and revolt against the government of the city. Among their number was a Cathayan named Ch'ien-hu, a commander of 1,000, whose mother, daughter, and wife had all been ravished by Ahmad. Ch'ien-hu, moved by fierce indignation, plotted the destruction of the governor with another Cathayan named Wan-hu, a commander of 10,000.[1] They planned to do the deed when the Great Khan had completed his three months' sojourn at Khan-balik and had left for the city of Shang-tu, where he would likewise spend three months, and his son Chinghiz had also set out for his accustomed residences. At such times Ahmad was left to keep guard over the city: when the need arose, he would send word to the Great Khan at Shang-tu and the Khan would send back word of his wishes. The two plotters decided to impart their plot to the leading Cathayans of the country, and by common consent they made it known in many other cities to their own friends. The scheme was to take effect on the appointed day in the following manner. At the sight of a signal fire, all the conspirators were immediately to put to death any man wearing a beard and to pass on the signal to other cities by means of beacons that they should do the same. The reason for killing the bearded men was that the Cathayans are naturally beardless, whereas the Tartars, Saracens, and Christians wear beards. You must understand that all the Cathayans hated the government of the Great Khan, because he set over them Tartar rulers, mostly Saracens, and they could not endure it, since it made them feel that they were no more than slaves. Moreover the Great Khan had no legal title to rule the province of Cathay, having acquired it by force. So, putting no trust in the people, he committed the government of the country to Tartars, Saracens, and Christians who were attached to his household and personally loyal to him and not natives of Cathay.

Then Wan-hu and Ch'ien-hu, on the appointed date, entered the palace by night. And Wan-hu seated himself on the throne and had many lights lit in front of him. And he sent a courier to Ahmad, who lived in the old city, announcing that Chinghiz, the Khan's son, had just arrived that very night and summoned the Bailo to wait upon him without delay. When Ahmad heard this, he went immediately, greatly puzzled and not a little alarmed. On his way in through the city gate he met a Tartar named Kogatai, who was in command of the 12,000 men who kept constant watch and ward over the city. ‘Where are you going at this late hour?’ asked Kogatai. ‘To Chinghiz, who has just arrived.’ ‘How is it possible,’ asked Kogatai, ‘that he can have arrived so secretly that I have heard nothing of it?’ And he followed him with a detachment of his guard. Now the conspirators had said among themselves: ‘If only we can kill Ahmad, we have nothing to fear from anything else.’ The moment Ahmad entered the palace and saw it such a blaze of lights, he knelt before Wan-hu, mistaking him for Chinghiz; and Ch'ien-hu, who was there armed with a sword, cut off his head.

When Kogatai, who had stopped at the entrance to the palace, saw this, he shouted ‘Treason!’ And there and then he aimed an arrow at Wan-hu, who was seated on the throne, and shot him dead. Then, calling on his followers, he seized Ch'ien-hu. And he issued a proclamation throughout the city that anyone found out of doors would be killed on the spot. The Cathayans, seeing that the Tartars had discovered their plot and that they were left without a head, one of their leaders being killed and the other captured, stayed quietly in their homes and hence could give no sign to the other cities to carry out their plan of rebellion. Kogatai promptly sent couriers to the Great Khan with a full account of everything that had happened, and received in reply an order to conduct a thorough investigation and punish the guilty according to their deserts. When morning came, Kogatai examined all the Cathayans, and put to death many whom he found to be ring-leaders in the conspiracy. And the same thing was done in the other cities, when it came out that they were involved in the crime.

When the Great Khan had returned to Khan-balik, he wanted to know the cause of this occurrence. He then learnt the truth about the abominable outrages committed, as already related, by the execrable Ahmad and his sons. He found out that Ahmad himself and seven of his sons—for they were not all wicked—had taken innumerable ladies to be their wives, not to speak of those whom they had possessed by force. Then he caused all the treasure that Ahmad had amassed in the Old City to be brought into the New City; and put it with his own treasure; and it was found to be beyond all reckoning. He ordered Ahmad's body to be taken from the grave and flung in the street to be torn to pieces by dogs. And those of his sons who had followed the example of his evil deeds he caused to be flayed alive. And when he called to mind the accursed doctrine of the Saracens, by which every sin is accounted a lawful act even to the killing of any man who is not of their creed, so that because of it the execrable Ahmad and his sons were not conscious of committing any sin, he utterly contemned it and held it in abomination. He summoned the Saracens to his presence and expressly forbade them to do many things which their law commanded. In particular he commanded them to take their wives according to the law of the Tartars and not to cut the throats of animals, as they used to do, in order to eat their flesh, but to slit their bellies. And at the time when all this happened, Messer Marco was in this place.

As for the Great Khan's guard of 12,000 men, you must know that they are called Keshikten, which is as much as to say ‘knights and liegemen of the lord’. He employs them not out of fear of any man but in token of his sovereignty. These 12,000 horsemen have four captains, one over every 3,000. Each 3,000 in turn reside in the Khan's palace for three days and three nights and eat and drink there, and at the end of that time another 3,000 take their place, and so they continue throughout the year. By day indeed the other 9,000 do not leave the palace, unless it happens that one of them goes off on the Khan's affairs or on some urgent private business and then only if it is legitimate and he has his captain's leave. If he is faced with something really serious, such as the impending death of a father or brother or other near relative, or the threat of some heavy loss which would not permit of his immediate return, then he must get leave from the Khan. But at night the 9,000 are free to go home.

When the Great Khan is holding court, the seating at banquets is arranged as follows. He himself sits at a much higher table than the rest at the northern end of the hall, so that he faces south. His principal wife sits next to him on the left. On the right, at a somewhat lower level, sit his sons in order of age, Chinghiz the eldest being placed rather higher than the rest, and his grandsons and his kinsmen of the imperial lineage. They are so placed that their heads are on a level with the Great Khan's feet. Next to them are seated the other noblemen at other tables lower down again. And the ladies are seated on the same plan. All the wives of the Khan's sons and grandsons and kinsmen are seated on his left at a lower level, and next to them the wives of his nobles and knights lower down still. And they all know their appointed place in the lord's plan. The tables are so arranged that the Great Khan can see everything, and there are a great many of them. But you must not imagine that all the guests sit at table; for most of the knights and nobles in the hall take their meal seated on carpets for want of tables. Outside the hall the guests at the banquet number more than 40,000. For they include many visitors with costly gifts, men who come from strange countries bringing strange things, and some who have held high office and aspire to further advancement. Such are the guests who attend on such occasions, when the Great Khan is holding court or celebrating a wedding.

In the midst of the hall where the Great Khan has his table is a very fine piece of furniture of great size and splendour in the form of a square chest, each side being three paces in length, elaborately carved with figures of animals finely wrought in gold. The inside is hollow and contains a huge golden vessel in the form of a pitcher with the capacity of a butt, which is filled with wine. In each comer of the chest is a vessel with the capacity of a firkin, one filled with mares' milk, one with camels' milk, and the others with other beverages. On the chest stand all the Khan's vessels in which drink is served to him. From it the wine or other precious beverage is drawn off to fill huge stoups of gold, each containing enough to satisfy eight or ten men. One of these is set between every two men seated at the table. Each of the two has a gold cup with a handle, which he fills from the stoup. And for every pair of ladies one stoup and two cups are provided in the same way. You must understand that these stoups and the rest are of great value. I can assure you that the Great Khan has such a store of vessels of gold and silver that no one who did not see it with his own eyes could well believe it. And the waiters who serve his food and drink are certain of his barons. They have their mouths and noses swathed in fine napkins of silk and gold, so that the food and drink are not contaminated by their breath or effluence.

Certain barons are also appointed to look after newcomers unfamiliar with court etiquette and show them to their allotted and appropriate seats. These barons are continually passing to and fro through the hall, asking the guests if they lack anything. And if there are any who want wine or milk or anything else, they have it promptly brought to them by the waiters. At all the entrances of the hall, or wherever else the Great Khan may be, stand two men of gigantic stature, one on either side, with staves in their hands. This is because it is not permissible for anyone to touch the threshold of the door, but all who enter must step over it. If anyone should happen to touch it by accident, the guardians take his clothes from him and he must pay a fine to redeem them. Or if they do not take his clothes, they administer the appointed number of blows. But if they are newcomers who do not know of the rule, certain barons are assigned to introduce them and warn them of the rule. This is done because touching the threshold is looked upon as a bad omen. In leaving the hall, since some of the guests are overcome with drinking so that they could not possibly exercise due care, no such rule is enjoined.

There are many instruments in the hall, of every sort, and when the Great Khan is about to drink they all strike up. As soon as the cup-bearer has handed him the cup, he retires three paces and kneels down; and all the barons and all the people present go down on their knees and make a show of great humility. Then the Great Khan drinks. And every time he drinks the same performance is repeated. Of the food I say nothing, because everyone will readily believe that there is no lack of it. Let me add that there is no baron or knight at the banquet but brings his wife to dine with the other ladies. When they have fed and the tables are removed, a great troupe of jugglers and acrobats and other entertainers comes into the hall and performs remarkable feats of various kinds. And they all afford great amusement and entertainment in the Khan's presence, and the guests show their enjoyment by peals of laughter. When all is over, the guests take their leave and return each to his own lodging or house.

You must know that all the Tartars celebrate their birthdays as festivals. The Great Khan was born on the twenty-eighth day of the lunar cycle in the month of September. And on this day he holds the greatest feast of the year, excepting only the new year festival of which I will tell you later. On his birthday he dons a magnificent robe of beaten gold. And fully 12,000 barons and knights robe themselves with him in a similar colour and style — not so costly as his, but still of the same colour and style, in cloth of silk and gold, and all with gold belts. These robes are given to them by the Great Khan. And I assure you that the value of some of these robes, reckoning the precious stones and pearls with which they are often adorned, amounts to 10,000 golden bezants. Of such there are not a few. And you must know that the Great Khan gives rich robes to these 12,000 barons and knights thirteen times a year, so that they are all dressed in robes like his own and of great value. You can see for yourselves that this is no light matter, and that there is no other prince in the world besides himself who could bear such an expense.

On this royal birthday all the Tartars in the world, all the provinces and regions where men hold land and lordship under the Great Khan, give him costly presents proportionate to the giver and in accordance with prescribed order. And rich gifts are also brought to him by many others, petitioners for high office — which is awarded to applicants according to merit by twelve barons appointed for the purpose. And on this day all the idolaters and all the Christians and all the Saracens and all the races of men offer solemn prayers to their idols and their gods, with singing of hymns and lighting of lamps and burning of incense, that they may save their lord and give him long life and joy and health. So this day is passed in merry-making and birthday festivities. Now that I have fully described them, let us turn to another great feast which is celebrated at the new year and is called the White Feast.

The new year begins with them in February, and this is how it is observed by the Great Khan and all his subjects. According to custom they all array themselves in white, both male and female, so far as their means allow. And this they do because they regard white costume as auspicious and benign, and they don it at the new year so that throughout the year they may enjoy prosperity and happiness. On this day all the rulers, and all the provinces and regions and realms where men hold land or lordship under his sway, bring him costly gifts of gold and silver and pearls and precious stones and abundance of fine white cloth, so that throughout the year their lord may have no lack of treasure and may live in joy and gladness. Let me tell you also that the barons and knights and all the people make gifts to one another of white things. And they greet one another gaily and cheerfully saying, very much as we do: ‘May this year be a lucky one for you and bring you success in all you undertake.’ And this they do so that throughout the year all may go well with them and all their enterprises prosper.

I can also assure you for a fact that on this day the Great Khan receives gifts of more than 100,000 white horses, of great beauty and price. And on this day also there is a procession of his elephants, fully 4,000 in number, all draped in fine cloths embroidered with beasts and birds. Each one bears on its back two strong-boxes of great beauty and price filled with the Khan's plate and with costly apparel for this white-robed court. With them come innumerable camels also draped with cloths and laden with provisions for the feast. They all defile in front of the Great Khan and it is the most splendid sight that ever was seen.

On the morning of this feast, before the tables are set up, all the kings and all the dukes, marquises and counts, barons, knights, astrologers, physicians, falconers, and many other officials and rulers of men and lands and armies appear before the Khan in the great hall. And those who do not achieve this assemble outside the palace in a spot where the Khan can readily inspect them. Let me tell you in what order they are stationed. In front are his sons and grandsons and those of his imperial lineage. Next come the kings, then the dukes and then all the other ranks, one behind another, in due order. And when they are all seated, each in his proper station, up stands a great dignitary and proclaims in a loud voice: ‘Bow down and worship!’ No sooner has he said this than they bow down, then and there, and touch the ground with their foreheads, and address a prayer to the lord and worship him as if he were a god. Then the dignitary proclaims: ‘God save our lord and long preserve him in gladness and joy!’ And one and all reply: ‘God do so!’ Once again the dignitary proclaims: ‘God increase and multiply his empire from good to better and keep all his subjects in untroubled peace and good will and in all his lands grant universal prosperity!’ And one and all reply: ‘God do so!’ In this manner they worship him four times. Then they go to an altar, adorned with great splendour, on which is a scarlet tablet bearing the name of the Great Khan, and also a splendidly wrought censer. They cense this tablet and the altar with great reverence. Then they return, each to his place. When they have all done this, then the precious gifts of which I have spoken are presented. After this, when the Great Khan has viewed all the gifts, the tables are laid and the guests take their places in due order as I have already related — the Khan alone at his high table with his first wife, and the others each in his degree, and their ladies on the empress's side of the hall, just as I have described it to you before. When they have fed, the performers come in and entertain the court as before. Finally they return, everyone to his own lodging or home.

Next let me tell you that the Great Khan has ordained thirteen feasts, one for each of the thirteen lunar months, which are attended by the 12,000 barons called Keshikten, that is to say the henchmen most closely attached to the Khan. To each of these he has given thirteen robes, every one of a different colour. They are splendidly adorned with pearls and gems and other ornaments and are of immense value. He has also given to each of the 12,000 a gold belt of great beauty and price, and shoes of fine leather (called canaut or borgal) cunningly embroidered with silver thread, which are likewise beautiful and costly. All their attire is so gorgeous and so stately that when they are fully robed any one of them might pass for a king. One of these robes is appointed to be worn at each of the thirteen feasts. The Great Khan himself has thirteen similar robes — similar, that is, in colour, but more splendid and costly and more richly adorned; and he always dresses in the same colour as his barons.

The cost of these robes, to the number of 146,000 in all, amounts to a quantity of treasure that is almost past computation, to say nothing of the belts and shoes, which also cost a goodly sum. And all this the Khan does for the embellishment or enhancement of his feasts.

Let me conclude with one more fact, a very remarkable one well worthy of mention in our book. You must know that a great lion is led into the Great Khan's presence; and as soon as it sees him it flings itself down prostrate before him with every appearance of deep humility and seems to acknowledge him as lord. There it stays without a chain, and is indeed a thing to marvel at.

We will turn next to the Great Khan's hunting parties.

You may take it for a fact that during the three months which the Great Khan spends in the city of Khan-balik, that is, December, January, and February, he has ordered that within a distance of sixty days' journey from where he is staying everybody must devote himself to hunting and hawking. The order goes out to every governor of men or lands to send all such large beasts as wild boars, harts, stags, roebucks, bears, and the like, or at any rate the greater part of them. So every governor gathers round him all the huntsmen of the district, and together they go wherever these beasts are to be found, beating their coverts in turn and killing some of them with their hounds but most with their arrows. That is how they hunt them. And those beasts that they wish to send to the Great Khan they first disembowel and then load on carts and so dispatch. This applies to all those within thirty days' journey, and their combined bag is enormous. Those distant from thirty to sixty days do not send the flesh — the journey is too long for that — but send the hides duly dressed and tanned, so that the Khan may use them in the manufacture of necessary equipment for his armies.

You must know also that the Great Khan has a plentiful supply of leopards skilled in hunting game and of lynxes trained in the chase and past masters of their craft. He has a number of lions of immense size, bigger than those of Egypt; they have very handsome, richly coloured fur, with longitudinal stripes of black, orange, and white. They are trained to hunt wild boars and bulls, bears, wild asses, stags, roebuck, and other game. A grand sight it is to see the stately creatures that fall a prey to these lions. When the lions are led out to the chase, they are carried on carts in cages, each with a little dog for company. They are caged because otherwise they would be too ferocious and too eager in their pursuit of game, so that there would be no holding them. They must always be led upwind; for if their prey caught wind of the smell they would not wait, but would be off in a flash. He has also a great many eagles trained to take wolves and foxes and fallow-deer and roe-deer, and these too bring in game in plenty. Those that are trained to take wolves are of immense size and power, for there is never a wolf so big that he escapes capture by one of these eagles.

Now that you have heard what I have to tell on this subject, I will tell you of the numbers and excellence of the Great Khan's hounds. You must know that among his barons there are two brothers in blood who are named Bayan and Mingan. They bear the title kuyukchi, that is to say, keepers of the mastiffs. Each of them has 10,000 subordinates, who all wear livery of one colour; and the other 10,000 all wear another colour. The two colours are scarlet and blue. Whenever they accompany the Great Khan in the chase, they wear these liveries. Among either 10,000 there are 2,000 of whom each one leads a mastiff, or maybe two or more, so that the total number is immense. When the Great Khan goes hunting, one of the two brothers with his 10,000 men and fully 4,000 hounds goes with him on one side and the other with his 10,000 and his hounds goes on the other. The two bands keep pace with each other exactly, so that the whole line extends in length over a day's journey. And not a wild beast do they find but falls a prey. What a sight it is to see the hunt and the performance of the hounds and the hunters! For you must picture that, while the Great Khan rides out hawking with his barons across the open country, then packs of these hounds are to be seen advancing on either side, hunting bears and stags and other beasts, so that it is truly a fine sight to see. These two brothers are bound by covenant to provide the Great Khan's court every day, beginning in October and continuing to the end of March, with a thousand head of game, including both beasts and birds, except quails, and also fish to the best of their ability, reckoning as the equivalent of one head as much fish as would make a square meal for three persons.

When the Khan has spent the three months of December, January, and February in the city of which I have spoken, he sets off in March and travels southward to within two days' journey of the Ocean. He is accompanied by fully 10,000 falconers and takes with him fully 4,000 gerfalcons and peregrine falcons and sakers in great abundance, besides a quantity of goshawks for hawking along the riversides. You must not imagine that he keeps all this company with him in one place. In fact he distributes them here and there, in groups of a hundred or two hundred or more. Then they engage in fowling, and most of the fowl they take are brought to the Great Khan. And I would have you know that when he goes hawking with his gerfalcons and other hawks, he has fully 10,000 men in parties of two who are called toscaor, which signifies in our language ‘watchmen’. These men are posted here and there in couples, so as to occupy a wide enough area. Each has a call and a hood, so that they can call in the hawks and hold them. And when the Khan orders the hawks to be cast, there is no need for the casters to go after them, because the men of whom I have spoken, dispersed here and there, keep such careful watch that wherever a hawk may go they are always on the spot and if one is in need of help they are prompt to render it.

All the Great Khan's hawks and those of the other barons have a little tablet of silver attached to their feet on which is written the name of the owner and also that of the keeper. By this means the bird is recognized as soon as it is taken, and is returned to the owner. If the finder does not know whose it is, he takes it to a baron who is called bularguchi, which is as much as to say ‘keeper of lost property’. For, I would have you know that, if anyone finds a horse or a sword or a hawk or anything else and cannot discover the owner, it is immediately brought to this baron, and he takes charge of it. If the finder does not hand it over forthwith, he is reckoned a thief. And the losers apply to this baron, and if he has received their property he promptly returns it. He always has his official residence, with its flag flying, at the highest point in the whole camp, so as to be readily seen by those who have lost anything. By this means nothing can be lost without being found and returned.

When the Great Khan goes on the journey of which I have told you towards the Ocean, the expedition is marked by many fine displays of huntsmanship and falconry. Indeed, there is no sport in the world to compare with it. He always rides on the back of four elephants, in a very handsome shelter of wood, covered inside with cloth of beaten gold and outside with lionskins. Here he always keeps twelve gerfalcons of the best he possesses and is attended by several barons to entertain him and keep him company. When he is travelling in this shelter on the elephants, and other barons who are riding in his train call out, ‘Sire, there are cranes passing,’ and he orders the roof of the shelter to be thrown open and so sees the cranes, he bids his attendants fetch such gerfalcons as he may choose and lets them fly. And often, the gerfalcons take the cranes in full view while the Great Khan remains all the while on his couch. And this affords him great sport and recreation. Meanwhile the other barons and knights ride all round him. And you may rest assured that there never was, and I do not believe there ever will be, any man who can enjoy such sport and recreation in this world as he does, or has such facilities for doing so.

When he has travelled so far that he arrives at a place called Cachar Modun, then he finds his pavilions ready pitched there and those of his sons and his barons and his mistresses to the number of more than 10,000; and very fine they are, and very costly. Let me tell you how his pavilion is made. First, the tent in which he holds his court is big enough to accommodate fully a thousand knights. This tent has its entrance towards the south and serves as a hall for the barons and other retainers. Adjoining this is another tent which faces west and is occupied by the Khan himself. It is to this tent that he summons anyone with whom he wishes to converse. At the back of the great hall is a large and handsome chamber in which he sleeps. There are also other chambers and other tents; but they do not adjoin the great tent. Let me tell you how these two halls and the chamber are constructed. Each hall has columns of spicewood very skilfully carved. On the outside they are all covered with lion-skins of great beauty, striped with black and white and orange. They are so well designed that neither wind nor rain can harm them or do any mischief. Inside they are all of ermine and sable, which are the two finest and richest and costliest furs there are. The truth is that a superfine sable fur big enough for a man's cloak is worth up to 2,000 golden bezants, while an ordinary one is worth 1,000. The Tartars call it ‘the king of furs'. The sable is about the size of a marten. With these two sorts of skin the two great halls are lined, pieced together with such artistry that it is a truly amazing spectacle. And the chamber where the Khan sleeps, which adjoins the two halls, is also of lion-skins without and ermine and sable with-in, magnificent in workmanship and design. The cords that hold up the halls and chambers are all of silk. So precious indeed and so costly are these three tents that no petty king could afford them.

Round these three tents are pitched all the other tents, also well designed and appointed. The Khan's mistresses too have splendid pavilions. And for the gerfalcons and falcons and other birds and beasts there are tents in vast numbers. What need of more words? You may take it for a fact that the number of people in this camp almost passes belief. You might well fancy that the Khan was here in residence in his finest city. For it is thronged with multitudes from all parts. His whole household staff is here with him, besides physicians and astrologers and falconers and other officials in great numbers, and everything is as well ordered as in his capital.

In this place he stays till spring, which in these parts falls about our Easter Day. Throughout his stay he never ceases to go hawking by lake or stream, and he makes an ample catch of cranes and swans and other birds. And his followers who are dispersed about the neighbourhood send in lavish contributions of game and fowl. All this time he enjoys the finest sport and recreation in the world, so that no one in the world who has not seen it could ever believe it; so far do his magnificence and his state and his pleasures surpass my description.

Let me tell you one thing more. No merchant or artisan or peasant dare keep any falcon or bird of prey or any hound for the chase within twenty days' journey of the Great Khan's residence; but in every other province and region of his dominions they are free to hunt and do as they please with hawks and hounds. And you must understand, furthermore, that throughout his empire no king or baron or any other person dares to take or hunt hare or hart, buck or stag, or any other such beast between the months of March and October, so that they may increase and multiply. And anyone who contravenes this rule is made to repent it bitterly, because it is the Khan's own enactment. And I assure you that his commandment is so strictly obeyed that hares and bucks and the other beasts I have mentioned often come right up to a man, and he does not touch them or do them any harm.

After spending his time here in this fashion till about Easter Day, the Great Khan sets out with all his retainers and returns direct to the city of Khan-balik by the same route by which he came, hunting and hawking all the way and enjoying good sport.

It is in this city of Khan-balik that the Great Khan has his mint; and it is so organized that you might well say that he has mastered the art of alchemy. I will demonstrate this to you here and now.

You must know that he has money made for him by the following process, out of the bark of trees — to be precise, from mulberry trees (the same whose leaves furnish food for silkworms). The fine bast between the bark and the wood of the tree is stripped off. Then it is crumbled and pounded and flattened out with the aid of glue into sheets like sheets of cotton paper, which are all black. When made, they are cut up into rectangles of various sizes, longer than they are broad. The smallest is worth half a small tornesel; the next an entire such tornesel; the next half a silver groat; the next an entire silver groat, equal in value to a silver groat of Venice; and there are others equivalent to two, five, and ten groats and one, three, and as many as ten gold bezants. And all these papers are sealed with the seal of the Great Khan. The procedure of issue is as formal and as authoritative as if they were made of pure gold or silver. On each piece of money several specially appointed officials write their names, each setting his own stamp. When it is completed in due form, the chief of the officials deputed by the Khan dips in cinnabar the seal or bull assigned to him and stamps it on the top of the piece of money so that the shape of the seal in vermilion remains impressed upon it. And then the money is authentic. And if anyone were to forge it, he would suffer the extreme penalty.

Of this money the Khan has such a quantity made that with it he could buy all the treasure in the world. With this currency he orders all payments to be made throughout every province and kingdom and region of his empire. And no one dares refuse it on pain of losing his life. And I assure you that all the peoples and populations who are subject to his rule are perfectly willing to accept these papers in payment, since wherever they go they pay in the same currency, whether for goods or for pearls or precious stones or gold or silver. With these pieces of paper they can buy anything and pay for anything. And I can tell you that the papers that reckon as ten bezants do not weigh one.

Several times a year parties of traders arrive with pearls and precious stones and gold and silver and other valuables, such as cloth of gold and silk, and surrender them all to the Great Khan. The Khan then summons twelve experts, who are chosen for the task and have special knowledge of it, and bids them examine the wares that the traders have brought and pay for them what they judge to be their true value. The twelve experts duly examine the wares and pay the value in the paper currency of which I have spoken. The traders accept it willingly, because they can spend it afterwards on the various goods they buy throughout the Great Khan's dominions. And I give you my word that the wares brought in at different times during the year mount up to a value of fully 400,000 bezants, and they are all paid for in this paper currency.

Let me tell you further that several times a year a fiat goes forth through the towns that all those who have gems and pearls and gold and silver must bring them to the Great Khan's mint. This they do, and in such abundance that it is past all reckoning; and they are all paid in paper money. By this means the Great Khan acquires all the gold and silver and pearls and precious stones of all his territories.

Here is another fact well worth relating. When these papers have been so long in circulation that they are growing torn and frayed, they are brought to the mint and changed for new and fresh ones at a discount of 3 per cent. And here again is an admirable practice that well deserves mention in our book: if a man wants to buy gold or silver to make his service of plate or his belts or other finery, he goes to the Khan's mint with some of these papers and gives them in payment for the gold and silver which he buys from the mintmaster. And all the Khan's armies are paid with this sort of money.

I have now told you how it comes about that the Great Khan must have, as indeed he has, more treasure than anyone else in the world. I may go further and affirm that all the world's great potentates put together have not such riches as belong to the Great Khan alone.

Let me tell you next of the magnates who exercise authority from Khan-balik.

You must know that the Great Khan, as already mentioned, has appointed twelve great and powerful barons to supervise all decisions concerning the movement of the armies, changes in the high command, and dispatch of troops to one theatre or another in greater or less force, as need may require, according to the importance of the war. In addition it rests with them to sort out the staunch and fearless fighters from the faint-hearted, promoting the former and degrading those who prove incompetent or cowardly. And if anyone is captain of a thousand and has disgraced himself in any action, these barons decide that he has shown himself unworthy of his office and debase him to the rank of captain of a hundred. But if he has conducted himself creditably and with distinction, so that they judge him fit for a higher command, they advance him to a captaincy of ten thousand. In every case, however, they act with the knowledge of the Great Khan. When they propose to degrade anyone, they say to the Khan, ‘So-and-so is unworthy of such-and-such an office,’ to which he replies, ‘Let him be degraded to a lower rank’; and so it is done. If they have it in mind to promote anyone in acknowledgement of his merits, they say, ‘Such-and-such a captain of a thousand is fit and worthy to be captain of ten thousand’; then the Khan confirms the appointment and gives him the appropriate tablet, as previously described, and immediately orders him to be given presents of great value, so as to encourage the others to make the most of their abilities. This council of twelve barons is called Thai, that is to say ‘Supreme Court’, because there is no higher authority except the Great Khan himself.

Besides these there are twelve other barons to whom the Khan has committed authority over all the affairs of the thirty-four provinces. And this is how they are organized. Let me tell you first that they live in a palace in the town of Khan-balik, a palace of great size and beauty with many halls and residential quarters. For every province there is a judge and a staff of clerks, who all live in this palace, each in his own private residence. And the judge and his staff administer all the affairs of the province to which they are assigned, subject to the will and authority of the twelve barons. It rests with these barons to choose the governors of all the provinces. And when they have chosen men whom they consider competent and suitable, they recommend them to the Great Khan, who confirms their appointment and confers the appropriate tablet. They also supervise the collection of taxes and revenues together with their administration and expenditure and all else that concerns the imperial government throughout these provinces, except purely military matters. This Council goes by the name of Shieng, and the palace in which it is housed is also called Shieng.

Both the Thai and the Shieng are supreme courts, having no authority above them except the Great Khan himself, and enjoying the power to confer great benefits on whom they will. The Thai, however, that is to say the military court, is esteemed more highly and carries greater dignity than any other office.

I do not propose to enumerate the provinces at this stage, as I shall be giving a full account of them later in the book. Let us turn now to the system of post-horses by which the Great Khan sends his dispatches.

You must know that the city of Khan-balik is a centre from which many roads radiate to many provinces, one to each, and every road bears the name of the province to which it runs. The whole system is admirably contrived. When one of the Great Khan's messengers sets out along any of these roads, he has only to go twenty-five miles and there he finds a posting station, which in their language is called yamb and in our language may be rendered ‘horse post’. At every post the messengers find a spacious and palatial hostelry for their lodging. These hostelries have splendid beds with rich coverlets of silk and all that befits an emissary of high rank. If a king came here, he would be well lodged. Here the messengers find no less than 400 horses, stationed here by the Great Khan's orders and always kept in readiness for his messengers when they are sent on any mission. And you must understand that posts such as these, at distances of twenty-five or thirty miles, are to be found along all the main highways leading to the provinces of which I have spoken. And at each of these posts the messengers find three or four hundred horses in readiness awaiting their command, and palatial lodgings such as I have described. And this holds good throughout all the provinces and kingdoms of the Great Khan's empire.

When the messengers are travelling through out-of-the-way country, where there are no homesteads or habitations, they find that the Great Khan has had posts established even in these wilds, with the same palatial accommodation and the same supply of horses and accoutrements. But here the stages are longer; for the posts are thirty-five miles apart and in some cases over forty miles.

By this means the Great Khan's messengers travel throughout his dominions and have lodgings and horses fully accoutred for every stage. And this is surely the highest privilege and the greatest resource ever enjoyed by any man on earth, king or emperor or what you will. For you may be well assured that more than 200,000 horses are stabled at these posts for the special use of these messengers. Moreover, the posts themselves number more than 10,000, all furnished on the same lavish scale. The whole organization is so stupendous and so costly that it baffles speech and writing.

If anyone is puzzled to understand how there can be enough people to execute such tasks, and what is the source of their livelihood, my answer is this. All the idolaters, and likewise the Saracens, take six, eight, or ten wives apiece, as many as they can afford to keep, and beget innumerable children. Hence there will be many men with more than thirty sons of their own, who all follow them under arms. This follows from the plurality of wives. With us, on the other hand, a man has only one wife, and if she should prove barren he will end his days with her and beget no children. Hence our population is less than theirs. As to the means of life, they have no shortage, because they mostly use rice, panic, or millet, especially the Tartars and the people of Cathay and Manzi, and these three cereals in their countries yield an increase of a hundredfold on each sowing. These peoples do not use bread, but simply boil these three sorts of grain with milk or flesh and then eat them. Wheat in their country does not yield such an increase; but such of it as they harvest they eat only in the form of noodles or other pasty foods. Among them no land is left idle that might be cultivated. Their beasts increase and multiply without end. When they are on military service, there is not one of them who does not lead with him six, eight, or more horses for his own use. So it is not difficult to understand why the population in these parts is so enormous and the means of life so plentiful.

Now let me tell you another thing which I forgot to mention—one that is very germane to the matter in hand. The fact is that between one post and the next, at distances of three miles apart, there are stations which may contain as many as forty buildings occupied by unmounted couriers, who also play a part in the Great Khan's postal service. I will tell you how. They wear large belts, set all round with bells, so that when they run they are audible at a great distance. They always run at full speed and never for more than three miles. And at the next station three miles away, where the noise they make gives due notice of their approach, another courier is waiting in readiness. As soon as the first man arrives, the new one takes what he is carrying and also a little note given to him by the clerk, and starts to run. After he has run for three miles, the performance is repeated. And I can assure you that by means of this service of unmounted couriers, the Great Khan receives news over a ten days' journey in a day and a night. For it takes these runners no more than a day and a night to cover a ten days' journey, or two days and two nights for a twenty days' journey. So in ten days they can transmit news over a journey of a hundred days. And in the fruit season it often happens that by this means fruit gathered in the morning in the city of Khan-balik is delivered on the evening of the next day to the Great Khan in the city of Shang-tu, ten days' journey away.

At each of these three-mile stations there is appointed a clerk who notes the day and hour of the arrival of every courier and the departure of his successor; and this practice is in force at every station. And there are also inspectors charged with the duty of going round every month and examining all these stations, in order to detect any couriers who have been remiss and punish them. From these couriers, and from the staff at the stations, the Great Khan exacts no tax, and he makes generous provision for their maintenance.

As for the horses of which I have spoken, which are kept in such numbers at the posts to carry the imperial messengers, I will tell you exactly how the Great Khan has established them. First he inquires, ‘Which is the nearest city to such-and-such a post?’; then, ‘How many horses can it maintain for the messengers?’ Then the civic authorities investigate by means of experts how many horses can be maintained in the neighbouring post by the city and how many by the local towns and villages, and they apportion them according to the resources available. The cities act in concert, taking into consideration that between one post and the next there is sometimes another city, which makes its contribution with the rest. They provide for the horses out of the taxes due to the Great Khan: thus, if a man is assessed for taxation at a sum that would maintain a horse and a half, he is ordered to make corresponding provision at the neighbouring post. But you must understand that the cities do not maintain 400 horses continuously at each post. Actually they keep 200 for a month, to sustain the burdens of the post, while the other 200 are fattening. At the end of the month the fattened horses are transferred to the post while the others take their turn at grass. So they alternate perpetually.

If it happens at any point that there is some river or lake over which the couriers and mounted messengers must pass, the neighbouring cities keep three or four ferry-boats continually in readiness for this purpose. And if there is a desert to cross of many days' journey in extent, in which no permanent habitation can be established, the city next to the desert is obliged to furnish horses to the Khan's envoys to see them across, together with provisions for their escort. But to such cities the Khan affords special aid. And in out-of-the-way posts the horses are maintained partly by the Khan himself, partly by the nearest cities, towns, and villages.

When the need arises for the Great Khan to receive immediate tidings by mounted messenger, as of the rebellion of a subject country or of one of his barons or any matter that may concern him deeply, I assure you that the messengers ride 200 miles in a day, sometimes even 240. Let me explain how it is done. When a messenger wishes to travel at this speed and cover so many miles in a day, he carries a tablet with the sign of the gerfalcon as a token that he wishes to ride post haste. If there are two of them, they set out from the place where they are on two good horses, strongly built and swift runners. They tighten their belts and swathe their heads and off they go with all the speed they can muster, till they reach the next post-house twenty-five miles away. As they draw near they sound a sort of horn which is audible at a great distance, so that horses may be got ready for them. On arrival they find two fresh horses, ready harnessed, fully rested, and in good running form. They mount there and then, without a moment's breathing-space, and are no sooner mounted than off they go again, taking the last ounce out of their horses and not pausing till they reach the next post, where they find two more horses harnessed as before. Then up and off again. And so it goes on till evening. That is how these messengers manage to cover 240 miles a day with news for the Great Khan. Indeed, in extreme urgency, they can achieve 300 miles. In such cases they ride all night long; and if there is no moon the men of the post run in front of them with torches as far as the next post. But they cannot ride as fast by night as by day, because they are delayed by the slower pace of the runners. Messengers who can endure the fatigue of such a ride as this are very highly prized.

Now let me tell you something of the bounties that the Great Khan confers upon his subjects. For all his thoughts are directed towards helping the people who are subject to him, so that they may live and labour and increase their wealth. You may take it for a fact that he sends emissaries and inspectors throughout all his dominions and kingdoms and provinces to learn whether any of his people have suffered a failure of their crops either through weather or through locusts or other pests. And if he finds that any have lost their harvest, he exempts them for that year from their tribute and even gives them some of his own grain to sow and to eat—a magnificent act of royal bounty. This he does in the summer. And in winter he does likewise in the matter of cattle. If he finds any man whose cattle have been killed by an outbreak of plague, he gives him some of his own, derived from the tithes of other provinces, and to help him further he relieves him of tribute for the year.

Again, if it should happen that lightning strikes any flock of sheep or herd of other beasts, whether the herd belongs to one person or more and no matter how big it may be, the Great Khan will not take tithe of it for three years. And similarly if it chances to strike a ship laden with merchandise, he will not have any due or share of the cargo, because he accounts it an ill omen when lightning strikes any man's possessions. He reasons: ‘God must have been angry with this man, since He launched a thunderbolt at him.’ Therefore he does not wish that such possessions, struck by the wrath of God, should find their way into his treasury.

Here is another benefit that he confers.

Along the main highways frequented by his messengers and by merchants and other folk, he has ordered trees to be planted on both sides, two paces distant from one another. They are so large that they can be seen from a long way off. And he has done this so that any wayfarer may recognize the roads and not lose his way. For you will find these wayside trees in the heart of the wilderness; and a great boon they are to travellers and traders. They extend throughout every province and every kingdom. Where the roads traverse sandy deserts or rocky mountain ranges, so that it is not possible to plant trees, he has other landmarks set up in the form of cairns or pillars to indicate the track. He has certain officials whose duty it is to ensure that these are always kept in order. Besides the reasons already mentioned, he is all the more willing to have these trees planted because his soothsayers and astrologers declare that he who causes trees to be planted lives long.

You must know that most of the inhabitants of the province of Cathay drink a wine such as I will describe to you. They make a drink of rice and an assortment of excellent spices, prepared in such a way that it is better to drink than any other wine. It is beautifully clear and it intoxicates more speedily than any other wine, because it is very heating.

Let me tell you next of stones that bum like logs. It is a fact that throughout the province of Cathay there is a sort of black stone, which is dug out of veins in the hillsides and burns like logs. These stones keep a fire going better than wood. I assure you that, if you put them on the fire in the evening and see that they are well alight, they will continue to burn all night, so that you will find them still glowing in the morning. They do not give off flames, except a little when they are first kindled, just as charcoal does, and once they have caught fire they give out great heat. And you must know that these stones are burnt throughout the province of Cathay. It is true that they also have plenty of firewood. But the population is so enormous and there are so many bath-houses and baths continually being heated, that the wood could not possibly suffice, since there is no one who does not go to a bath-house at least three times a week and take a bath, and in winter every day, if he can manage it. And every man of rank or means has his own bathroom in his house, where he takes a bath. So it is clear that there could never be enough wood to maintain such a conflagration. So these stones, being very plentiful and very cheap, effect a great saving of wood.

To return to the provision of grain, you may take it for a fact that the Great Khan, when he sees that the harvests are plentiful and corn is cheap, accumulates vast quantities of it and stores it in huge granaries, where it is so carefully preserved that it remains unspoilt for three or four years. So he builds up a stock of every sort of grain — wheat, barley, millet, rice, panic, and others — in great abundance. Then, when it happens that some crops fail and there is a dearth of grain, he draws on these stocks. If the price is running at a bezant for a measure of wheat, for instance, he supplies four measures for the same sum. And he releases enough for all, so that everyone has plenty of corn to meet his needs. In this way he sees to it that none of his subjects need ever go short. And this he does throughout all parts of his empire.

Let me now tell you how the Great Khan bestows charity on the poor people of Khan-balik. When he learns that some family of honest and respectable people have been impoverished by some misfortune or disabled from working by illness, so that they have no means of earning their daily bread, he sees to it that such families (which may consist of six to ten persons or more) are given enough to cover their expenses for the whole year. These families, at the time appointed, go to the officials whose task it is to superintend the Great Khan's expenditure and who live in a palatial building assigned to their office. And each one produces a certificate of the sum paid to him for his subsistence the year before, and provision is made for them at the same rate this year. This provision includes clothing inasmuch as the Great Khan receives a tithe of all the wool, silk, and hemp used for cloth-making. He has these materials woven into cloth in a specially appointed building in which they are stored. Since all the crafts are under obligation to devote one day a week to working on his behalf, he has this cloth made up into garments, which he gives to the poor families in accordance with their needs for winter and for summer wear. He also provides clothing for his armies by having woollen cloth woven in every city as a contribution towards the payment of its tithe.

You must understand that the Tartars according to their ancient customs, before they became familiar with the doctrines of the idolaters, never used to give any alms. Indeed, when a poor man came to them, they would drive him off with maledictions, saying: ‘Go with God's curse upon you! If he had loved you as he loves me, he would have blessed you with prosperity!’ But since the sages of the idolaters, in particular the Bakhshi of whom I have spoken above, preached to the Great Khan that it was a good work to provide for the poor and that their idols would be greatly pleased by it, he was induced to make such provision as I have described. No one who cares to go to his court in quest of bread is ever turned away empty-handed. Everyone receives a portion. And not a day passes but twenty or thirty thousand bowls of rice, millet, and panic are doled out and given away by the officials appointed. And this goes on all the year round. For this amazing and stupendous munificence which the Great Khan exercises towards the poor, all the people hold him in such esteem that they revere him as a god.

There are also in the city of Khan-balik, including Christians, Saracens, and Cathayans, about 4,000 astrologers and soothsayers, for whom the Great Khan makes yearly provision of food and clothing as he does for the poor. These regularly practice their art in the city. They have a sort of almanack in which are written the movements of the planets through the constellations, hour by hour and minute by minute, throughout the year. Every year these astrologers, Christian, Saracen, and Cathayan, each sect on its own account, examine in this almanack the course and disposition of the whole year and of each particular moon. For they search out and discover what sort of conditions each moon of the year will produce in accordance with the natural course and disposition of the planets and constellations and their special influences: in such-and-such a month there will be thunderstorms, in another earthquakes, in another lightning and heavy rain, in yet another deadly outbreaks of pestilence and wars and civil dissensions. And so month by month in accordance with their findings. And they will declare that so it should happen in harmony with the natural and orderly sequence of things, but God may send more or less. So they will make many little booklets in which they will set down everything that is due to happen in the course of the year, moon by moon. These booklets are called tacuim and are sold at a groat apiece to anyone who cares to buy, so that he may know what will happen throughout the year. And those who prove to be the most accurate in their predictions will be reckoned the most accomplished masters of their art and will gain the greatest honour.

If anyone proposes to embark on some important enterprise or to travel somewhere on a trading venture or on other business, or has in mind some other project whose outcome he would like to know, he will consult the astrologers, telling them the year, month, hour, and minute of his nativity. This he is able to do, because in accordance with their custom everyone is taught from birth what he must say about his nativity, and parents are careful to note the particulars in a book. They divide the years into cycles of twelve, each with its own sign: the first bears the sign of the lion, the second of the ox, the third of the dragon, the fourth of the dog, and so on up to twelve. So, when a man is asked when he was born, he answers ‘in a year of the lion, on such-and-such a day or night, hour, and minute of such-and-such a moon’, according as the time and the year-sign may have been. When they have completed the cycle of twelve years, they begin again at the first sign and repeat the series, always in the same order. So, when anyone asks an astrologer or soothsayer how his proposed venture will turn out and tells him the hour and minute of his nativity and the sign of the year, then the soothsayer, having ascertained under which constellation and which planet he was born, will predict in due sequence all that is to happen to him on his travels and what fortune, good or bad, will attend his undertaking. Likewise, the inquirer may be warned, if he is a merchant, that the planet then in the ascendant will be hostile to his venture, so that he should await the ascendancy of one more favourable; or that the constellation directly facing the gate by which he is planning to leave the city will be adverse to the one under which he was born, so that he should leave by another gate or wait till the constellation has moved past; or that in such a place and on such a date he will encounter robbers, in another he will be assailed by rain and storm, in another his horse will break a leg, here his trafficking will involve him in loss, there it will bring in a profit. So the soothsayer will foretell the vicissitudes of his journey, propitious or disastrous, according to the sequence of favourable or unfavourable constellations.

As I have already said, the people of Cathay are all idolaters. Every man has in his house an image hanging on his chamber wall which represents the High God of Heaven, or at least a tablet on which the name of God is written. And every day they cense this with a thurible and worship it with uplifted hands, gnashing their teeth three times and praying that the god will give them a long and happy life, good health, and a sound understanding. From him they ask nothing else. But down below on the ground they have another image representing Natigai, the god of earthly things, who guides the course of all that is born on earth. They make him with a wife and children and worship him in the same way, with incense and gnashing of teeth and uplifted hands; and to him they pray for good weather and harvests and children and the like.

They surpass other nations in the excellence of their manners and their knowledge of many subjects, since they devote much time to their study and to the acquisition of knowledge. They speak in an agreeable and orderly manner, greet one another courteously with bright and cheerful faces, are dignified in their demeanour, cleanly at table, and so forth. But they have no regard for the welfare of their souls, caring only for the nurture of their bodies and for their own happiness. Concerning the soul, they believe indeed that it is immortal, but in this fashion. They hold that as soon as a man is dead he enters into another body; and according as he has conducted himself well or ill in life, he passes from good to better or from bad to worse. That is to say, if he is a man of humble rank and has behaved well and virtuously in life, he will be reborn after death from a gentlewoman and will be a gentleman, and thereafter from the womb of a noblewoman and will become a nobleman; and so he follows an ever upward path culminating in assumption into the Deity. But, if he is a man of good birth and has behaved badly, he will be reborn as the son of a peasant; from a peasant's life he will pass to a dog's and so continually downwards.

They treat their father and mother with profound respect. If it should happen that a child does anything to displease his parents or fails to remember them in their need, there is a department of state whose sole function it is to impose severe penalties on those who are found guilty of such ingratitude.

Perpetrators of various crimes who are caught and put in prison, if they have not been set free at the time appointed by the Great Khan for the release of prisoners, which recurs every three years, are then let out; but they are branded on the jaw, so that they may be recognized.

The present Khan prohibited all the gambling and cheating that used to be more prevalent among them than anywhere else in the world. To cure them of the habit he would say: ‘I have acquired you by force of arms and all that you possess is mine. So, if you gamble, you are gambling with my property.’ He did not, however, make this a pretext to take anything from them.

I will not omit to tell you about the behaviour of the Khan's people and noblemen when they come into his presence. First, all those who are within half a mile from the Great Khan, wherever he may be, show their reverence for his majesty by conducting themselves deferentially, peaceably, and quietly so that no hub-bub or uproar may be heard, nor the voice of anyone shouting or talking loudly. Next, every baron or nobleman continually carries with him a little vessel of pleasing design into which he spits so long as he is in the hall, so that no one may make so bold as to spit on the floor; and when he has spat he covers it up and keeps it. Likewise they have handsome slippers of white leather, which they carry about with them. When they have come to court, if they are about to enter the hall at the Lord's invitation, they put on these white slippers and hand their others to the attendants, so as not to dirty the beautiful and elaborate carpets of silk, wrought in gold and other colours.

注释

[1]The titles Ch'ien-hu and Wan-hu mean respectively commander of 1,000 and of 10,000.

From Peking to Bengal

Let us now leave the city of Khan-balik and travel into Cathay, so that you may learn something of its grandeurs and its treasures.

You must understand that Messer Marco himself was sent by the Great Khan as an emissary towards the west, on a journey of fully four months from Khan-balik. So we will tell you what he saw on the way, going and coming.

[...]

On leaving Ch'êng-tu-fu the traveller rides for five days through plain and valley, passing villages and hamlets in plenty. The people here live on the yield of the earth. The country is infested with lions, bears, and other wild beasts. There is some local industry, in the weaving of fine sendal and other fabrics. This country is part of Ch'êng-tu-fu province. But at the end of the five days the route enters another province whose name is Tibet.[1]

The province of Tibet is terribly devastated, for it was ravaged in a campaign by Mongu Khan. There are many towns and villages and hamlets lying ruined and desolate.

This country produces canes of immense size and girth; indeed I can assure you that they grow to about three palms in circumference and a good fifteen paces in length, the distance from one knot to the next amounting to fully three palms. Merchants and other travellers who are passing through this country at night use these canes as fuel because, when they are alight, they make such a popping and banging that lions and bears and other beasts of prey are scared away in terror and dare not on any account come near the fire. So fires of this sort are made by travellers to protect their own animals from the savage predators with which the country is infested. Let me tell you — or it is well worth telling — how it happens that the crackling of these canes is so loud and terrifying and what effect it produces. You must understand that the canes are taken when quite green and thrown on a fire made of a substantial pile of logs. When they have lain for some time on a fire of this size, they begin to warp and to burst, and then they make such a bang that it can be heard at nights fully ten miles away. Anyone who is not accustomed to the noise is startled out of his wits by it; it is such a terrifying sound to hear. I assure you that horses that have never heard it before are so scared when they hear it that they snap their halters and all the cords that tether them and take to their heels. Many travellers have experienced this. So, when they have horses that are known never to have heard this noise, they bandage their eyes and shackle all the feet with iron fetlocks. Then, when they hear the crackling of the canes, however hard they try to bolt, they cannot do it. And by this means travellers keep safe at nights; both they and their beasts, from the lions and ounces and other dangerous beasts that abound in these parts.

This desolate country, infested by dangerous wild beasts, extends for twenty days' journey, without shelter or food except perhaps every third or fourth day, when the traveller may find some habitation where he can renew his stock of provisions. Then he reaches a region with villages and hamlets in plenty and a few towns perched on precipitous crags. Here there prevails a marriage custom of which I will tell you. It is such that no man would ever on any account take a virgin to wife. For they say that a woman is worthless unless she has had knowledge of many men. They argue that she must have displeased the gods, because if she enjoyed the favour of their idols then men would desire her and consort with her. So they deal with their womenfolk in this way. When it happens that men from a foreign land are passing through this country and have pitched their tents and made a camp, the matrons from neighbouring villages and hamlets bring their daughters to these camps, to the number of twenty or forty, and beg the travellers to take them and lie with them. So these choose the girls who please them best, and the others return home disconsolate. So long as they remain, the visitors are free to take their pleasure with the women and use them as they will, but they are not allowed to carry them off anywhere else. When the men have worked their will and are ready to be gone, then it is the custom for every man to give to the woman with whom he has lain some trinket or token so that she can show, when she comes to marry, that she has had a lover. In this way custom requires every girl to wear more than a score of such tokens hung round her neck to show that she has had lovers in plenty and plenty of men have lain with her. And she who has most tokens and can show that she has had most lovers and that most men have lain with her is the most highly esteemed and the most acceptable as a wife; for they say that she is the most favoured by the gods. And when they have taken a wife in this way they prize her highly; and they account it a grave offence for any man to touch another's wife, and they all strictly abstain from such an act. So much, then, for this marriage custom, which fully merits a description. Obviously the country is a fine one to visit for a lad from sixteen to twenty-four.

The natives are idolaters and out-and-out bad. They deem it no sin to rob and maltreat and are the greatest rogues and the greatest robbers in the world. They live by the chase and by their herds and the fruits of the earth. The country abounds with animals that produce musk, which in their language are called gudderi. They are so plentiful that you can smell musk everywhere. I have already explained that a sac in the form of a tumour and filled with blood grows next to the beast's navel, and this blood is musk. But I must add that once in every moon the sac becomes overcharged with blood and discharges its contents. So it happens, since these animals are very plentiful here, that they discharge their musk in many places, so that the whole country is pervaded with the scent. The rascally natives have many excellent dogs, who catch great numbers of these animals; so they have no lack of musk.

The natives have no coinage and do not use the Khan's paper currency; but for money they use salt. They are very poorly clad, in skins, canvas, and buckram. They speak a language of their own and call themselves ‘Tibet’.

This province of Tibet is of immense size and lies on the confines of Manzi and many other provinces. The natives are idolaters and notorious brigands. The province is so huge that it contains eight kingdoms and a great many cities and towns. In many places there are rivers and lakes and mountains, in which gold-dust is found in great quantity. There is also great abundance of cinnamon. In this province coral fetches a high price, for it is hung round the necks of women and of idols with great joy. The province produces plenty of camlets and other cloths of gold, silk, and fustian, and many sorts of spice that were never seen in our country. Here are to be found the most skilful enchanters and the best astrologers according to their usage that exist in any of the regions hereabouts. Among other wonders they bring on tempests and thunder-storms when they wish and stop them at any time. They perform the most potent enchantments and the greatest marvels to hear and to behold by diabolic arts, which it is better not to relate in our book, or men might marvel over-much. Their customs are disagreeable. They have mastiffs as big as donkeys, very good at pulling down game, including wild cattle, which are plentiful there and of great size and ferocity. They also have a great variety of other hunting dogs, besides excellent lanner and saker falcons, good fliers and apt for hawking. Before leaving Tibet, of which we have now given a full account, let me make it clear that it belongs to the Great Khan, as do all the other kingdoms and provinces and regions described in this book, except only the provinces mentioned at the beginning of our book which belong to the son of Arghun, as I have told you. So you may understand from this, without further indication, that with this exception the provinces described in this book are all subject to the Great Khan.

We will tell you next of the province of Kaindu, which lies towards the west. It has only one king. The people are idolaters and subject to the Great Khan. It has cities and towns in plenty. The chief city, also called Kaindu, lies near the entrance to the province. There is also a lake in which are found many pearls — pure white but not round, being rather knobbly as though four, five, six, or more were joined together. The Great Khan will not let anyone take them; for if all the pearls that were found there were taken out, so many would be taken that they would be cheap and lose their value. So the Great Khan, when he has a mind, has pearls taken from it for his own use only; but no one else may take them on pain of death. There is also a mountain there in which is found a sort of stone called turquoise. These are very fine gems and very plentiful. But the Great Khan does not allow them to be taken except at his bidding.

Let me tell you that in this province there prevails a usage concerning women such as I will describe to you. A man does not think it an outrage if a stranger or some other man makes free with his wife or daughter or sister or any woman he may have in his house. But it is taken as a favour when anyone lies with them. For they say that by this act their gods and idols are propitiated, so as to enrich them with temporal blessings in great abundance. And for that reason they deal with their wives in the following open-handed fashion. You must know that when a man of this country sees that a stranger is coming to his house to lodge, or that he is entering his house without intending to lodge, he immediately walks out, telling his wife to let the stranger have his will without reservation. Then he goes his way to his fields or vineyards and does not return so long as the stranger remains in his house. And I assure you that he often stays three days and lies in bed with this wittol's wife. And as a sign that he is in the house he hangs out his cap or some other token. This is an indication that he is within. And the wretched wittol, so long as he sees this sign in his house, does not return. This usage prevails throughout the province. The Great Khan has forbidden it; but they continue to observe it nonetheless, since, as they are all addicted to it, there is no one to accuse another. There are some residents in the villages and homesteads perched on crags by the wayside who have beautiful wives and offer them freely to passing traders, And the traders give the women a piece of some fine cloth, perhaps a yard or so, or some other trinket of trifling value. Having taken his pleasure for a while, the trader mounts his horse and rides away. Then the husband and wife call after him in mockery; ‘Hi, you there — you that are riding off! Show us what you are taking with you that is ours! Let us see, ne'er-do-well, what profit you have made! Look at what you have left to us — what you have thrown away and forgotten.’ And he flourishes the cloth they have gained from him. ‘We have got this of yours, you poor fool, and you have nothing to show for it!’ So they mock at him. And so they continue to act.

Let me tell you next about their money. They have gold in bars and weigh it out by saggi; and it is valued according to its weight. But they have no coined money bearing a stamp. For small change they do as follows. They have salt water from which they make salt by boiling it in pans. When they have boiled it for an hour, they let it solidify in moulds, forming blocks of the size of a twopenny loaf, flat below and rounded on top. When the blocks are ready, they are laid on heated-stones beside the fire to dry and harden. On these blocks they set the Great Khan's stamp. And currency of this sort is made only by his agents. Eighty of these blocks are worth a saggio of gold. But traders come with these blocks to the people who live among the mountains in wild and out-of-the-way places and receive a saggio of gold for sixty, fifty, or forty blocks, according as the place is more isolated and cut off from cities and civilized people. Here the natives cannot dispose of their gold and other wares, such as musk, for want of purchasers. So they sell their gold cheap, because they find it in rivers and lakes as you have heard. These traders travel all over the highlands of Tibet, where the salt money is also current. They make an immense profit, because these people use this salt in food as well as for buying the necessities of life; but in the cities they almost invariably use fragments of the blocks for food and spend the unbroken blocks.

There are vast numbers here of the beasts that produce musk, and hunters catch them and take great quantities of the musk. There are plenty of good fish, which are caught in the same lake that produces the pearls. There are also lions, lynxes, bears, stags, and roebuck in plenty, and birds of every sort abound. There is no grape wine, but wine is made of wheat and rice with many spices, and a very good drink it is. The province is also a great source of cloves, which grow on a little tree with leaves like laurel but slightly longer and narrower, and little white flowers like clove-pinks. There is also ginger in abundance and cinnamon, not to speak of spices that never come to our country.

When the traveller leaves the city of Kaindu, he rides for ten days through a country not lacking in towns and villages, and well stocked with game, both bird and beast. The people have the same manners and customs as those I have described. At the end of these ten days he reaches a great river called Brius, which is the farther boundary of the province of Kaindu. In it are found great quantities of gold dust. The district is also rich in cinnamon. This river runs into the Ocean.

On the farther side of the river Brius lies Kara-jang, a province of such size that it contains no less than seven kingdoms. It lies towards the west, and the inhabitants are idolaters and subject to the Great Khan. Its king is his son, whose name is Essen-Temur, a very great king and rich and powerful. He rules his land well and justly; for he is a wise and upright man.

After leaving the river, the traveller continues westwards for five days, through a country with numerous cities and towns which breeds excellent horses. The people live by rearing animals and tilling the soil. They speak a language of their own, which is very difficult to understand. At the end of the five days he reaches the capital of the kingdom, which is called Yachi, a large and splendid city. Here there are traders and craftsmen in plenty. The inhabitants are of several sorts: there are some who worship Mahomet, some idolater, and a few Nestorian Christians. Both wheat and rice are plentiful; but wheat bread is not eaten because in this province it is unwholesome. The natives eat rice, and also make it into a drink with spices, which is very fine and clear and makes a man drunk like wine. For money they use white cowries, i.e. the sea-shells that are used to make necklaces for dogs: 80 cowries are equivalent to 1 saggio of silver, which is worth 2 Venetian groats, and 8 saggi of fine silver may be taken to equal 1 of fine gold. They also have brine wells, from which they make salt that is used for food by all the inhabitants of the country. And I assure you that the king derives great profit from this salt. The men here do not mind if one touches another's wife, so long as it is with her consent.

Before leaving this kingdom let me tell you something which I had forgotten. There is a lake here, some 100 miles in circumference, in which there is a vast quantity of fish, the best in the world. They are of great size and of all kinds. The natives eat flesh raw — poultry, mutton, beef, and buffalo meat. The poorer sort go to the shambles and take the raw liver as soon as it is drawn from the beasts; then they chop it small, put it in garlic sauce and eat it there and then. And they do likewise with every other kind of flesh. The gentry also eat their meat raw; but they have it minced very small, put it in garlic sauce flavoured with spices and then eat it as readily as we eat cooked meat.

On leaving Yachi and continuing westwards for ten days, the traveller reaches the kingdom of Kara-jang, the capital of which is also called Kara-jang. The people are idolaters and subject to the Great Khan. The king is Hukaji, a son of the Great Khan. In this province gold dust is found in the rivers, and gold in bigger nuggets in the lakes and mountains. They have so much of it that they give a saggio of gold for six of silver. Here too the cowries of which I have spoken are used for money. They are not found in this province, but come here from India.

In this province live huge snakes and serpents[2] of such a size that no one could help being amazed even to hear of them. They are loathsome creatures to behold. Let me tell you just how big they are. You may take it for a fact that there are some of them ten paces in length that are as thick as a stout cask: for their girth runs to about ten palms. These are the biggest. They have two squat legs in front near the head, which have no feet but simply three claws, two small and one bigger, like the claws of a falcon or a lion. They have enormous heads and eyes so bulging that they are bigger than loaves. Their mouth is big enough to swallow a man at one gulp. Their teeth are huge. All in all, the monsters are of such inordinate bulk and ferocity that there is neither man nor beast but goes in fear of them. There are also smaller ones, not exceeding eight paces in length, or six or it may be five.

Let me tell you now how these monsters are trapped. You must know that by day they remain underground because of the great heat; at nightfall, they sally out to hunt and feed and seize whatever prey they can come by. They go down to drink at streams and lakes and springs. They are so bulky and heavy and of such a girth that when they pass through sand on their nightly search for food or drink they scoop out a furrow through the sand that looks as if a butt full of wine had been rolled that way. Now the hunters who set out to catch them lay traps at various places in the trails that show which way the snakes are accustomed to go down the banks into the water. These are made by embedding in the earth a stout wooden stake to which is fixed a sharp steel tip like a razor-blade or lance-head, projecting about a palm's breadth beyond the stake and slanting in the direction from which the serpents approach. This is covered with sand, so that nothing of the stake is visible. Traps of this sort are laid in great numbers. When the snake, or rather the serpent, comes down the trail to drink, he runs full-tilt into the steel, so that it pierces his chest and rips his belly right to the navel and he dies on the spot. The hunter knows that the serpent is dead by the cry of the birds, and then he ventures to approach his prey. Otherwise he dare not draw near.

When hunters have trapped a serpent by this means, they draw out the gall from the belly and sell it for a high price, for you must know that it makes a potent medicine. If a man is bitten by a mad dog, he is given a drop of it to drink — the weight of a halfpenny — and he is cured forthwith. And when a woman is in labour and cries aloud with the pangs of travail, she is given a drop of the serpent's gall and as soon as she has drunk it she is delivered of her child forthwith. Its third use is when someone is afflicted by any sort of growth: he puts a drop of this gall on it and is cured in a day or two. For these reasons the gall of this serpent is highly prized in these provinces. The flesh also commands a good price, because it is very good to eat and is esteemed as a delicacy.

Another thing about these serpents: they go to the dens where lions and bears and other beasts of prey have their cubs and gobble them up — parents as well as young — if they can get at them.

Let me tell you further that this province produces a sturdy breed of horses, which are exported when young for sale in India. And you must know that it is the custom to remove two or three joints of the tail-bone, so that the horse cannot flick the rider with its tail or swish it when galloping; for it is reckoned unsightly for a horse to gallop with swishing tail. The horsemen here ride with long stirrups after the French fashion — long, that is, in contrast to the short stirrups favoured by the Tartars and most other races who go in for archery, since they use their stirrups for standing upright when they shoot.

For armour they wear cuirasses of buffalo hide. They carry lances and shields. They also use crossbows, with all the quarrels dipped in poison. All the natives, women as well as men, especially those who are bent on evil courses, carry poison about with them. If it should chance that anyone is caught after committing a crime for which he is liable to suffer torture, rather than face the penalty of the scourge, he puts the poison in his mouth and swallows it, so as to die as quickly as possible. But, since the authorities are well aware of this trick, they always have some dog's dung handy, so that if a prisoner swallows poison for this purpose he is immediately made to swallow the dung and so vomit up the poison. Such is the remedy they have found for this practice, and it is a well-tried one. Another practice of theirs, before they were conquered by the Great Khan, was this. If it happened that a gentleman of quality, with a fine figure, or a ‘good shadow’, came to lodge in the house of a native of this province, they would murder him in the night, by poison or other means, so that he died. You must not suppose that they did this in order to rob him; they did it rather because they believed that his ‘good shadow’ and the good grace with which he was blessed and his intelligence and soul would remain in the house. In this way many met their deaths before the conquest. Since then — that is, during the last thirty-five years or so — they have abandoned this evil practice for fear of the Great Khan, who has strictly forbidden it.

注释

[1]Polo's account of ‘Tebet’ applies primarily to districts now included in the provinces of Sze-ch'wan and Yün-nan to the east of the present Tibetan frontier.

[2]Evidently crocodiles.

企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想

美国边疆论

（英汉双语）

［美］弗里德里克·杰克逊·特纳　著

董　敏　胡晓凯　译

中 国 出 版 集 团 公 司

中国对外翻译出版有限公司

图书在版编目（CIP）数据

美国边疆论：英汉双语／（美）特纳著；董敏，胡晓凯译．—北京：中国对外翻译出版有限公司，2011.12

（企鹅口袋书系列·伟大的思想）

ISBN 978-7-5001-3326-1

Ⅰ．①美…　Ⅱ．①特…　②董…　③胡…　Ⅲ．①英语—汉语—对照读物　②边疆地区—地方史—研究—美国　Ⅳ．①H319.4:K

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2011）第247573号

www.penguin.com

The Frontier in American History first published 1920

This selection first published 2008

All rights reserved

Set by Rowland Phototypesetting Ltd, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk

出版发行／中国对外翻译出版有限公司

地　　址／北京市西城区车公庄大街甲4号物华大厦6层

电　　话／（010）68359376　68359303　68359719

邮　　编／100044　　传　　真／（010）68357870

电子邮箱／book@ctpc.com.cn

网　　址／http://www.ctpc.com.cn

出版策划／张高里

责任编辑／梁　斐

封面设计／奇文堂·潘峰

排　　版／竹叶图文

印　　刷／保定市中画美凯印刷有限公司

规　　格／760×940毫米　1／32

印　　张／7

版　　次／2012年3月第一版

印　　次／2012年3月第一次

ISBN 978-7-5001-3326-1　定价：15.00元

“企鹅”及相关标识是企鹅图书有限公司已经注册或尚未注册的商标。

未经允许，不得擅用。

中国对外翻译出版有限公司与企鹅图书有限公司联合出版

观　念

——《伟大的思想》代序

梁文道

每隔一段时间，媒体就喜欢评选一次“影响世界的X个人”或者“改变历史的X项发明”。然而，在我看来，几乎所有人类史上最重大的变革，首先都是一种观念的变革。

我们今天之所以会关注气候的暖化与生物多样性的保存，是因为我们看待地球的方式变了，我们比以前更加意识到人在自然中的位置，也更加了解自然其实是一个动态的系统。放弃了人类可以主宰地球的世界观，这就意味着我们接受了一个观念的变化。同样地，我们不再相信男人一出生就该主宰女人，甚至也不再认为男女之别是不可动摇的本质区分；这也是观念的变化。如果说环保运动和女权运动有任何影响的话，那些影响一定就是从大脑开始的。也不要只看好事，20世纪最惨绝人寰的浩劫最初也只不过是一些小小的观念，危险的观念。比如说一位德国人，他相信人类的进化必以“次等种族”的灭绝为代价……

这套丛书不叫“伟大的巨著”，是因为它们体积都不大，而且还有不少是抽取自某些名著的章节。可它们却全是伟大的观念，例如达尔文论天择，潘恩论常识，它们共同构成了人类的观念地图。从头看它们一遍，就是检视文明所走过的道路，从深处理解我们今天变成这个样子的原因。

也许你会发现其中有些陌生的名字，或者看起来没有那么“伟大”的篇章（譬如普鲁斯特追忆他的阅读时光），但你千万不要小看它们。因为真正重要、真正能够产生启蒙效果的观念往往具有跨界移动的能力，它会跨越时空，离开它原属的领域，在另一个世界产生意外的效果。就像马可·波罗在监狱里述说的异国图景，当时有谁料得到那些荒诞的故事会诱发出哥伦布的旅程呢？我也无法猜测，这套小书的读者里头会不会有下一个哥伦布，他将带着令人惊奇的观念航向自己的大海。

《伟大的思想》中文版序

企鹅《伟大的思想》丛书2004年开始出版。在英国，已付印80种，尚有20种计划出版。美国出版的丛书规模略小，德国的同类丛书规模更小一些。丛书销量已远远超过200万册，在全球很多人中间，尤其是学生当中，普及了哲学和政治学。中文版《伟大的思想》丛书的推出，迈出了新的一步，令人欢欣鼓舞。

推出这套丛书的目的是让读者再次与一些伟大的非小说类经典著作面对面地交流。太长时间以来，确定版本依据这样一个假设——读者在教室里学习这些著作，因此需要导读、详尽的注释、参考书目等。此类版本无疑非常有用，但我想，如果能够重建托马斯·潘恩《常识》或约翰·罗斯金《艺术与人生》初版时的环境，重新营造更具亲和力的氛围，那也是一件有意思的事。当时，读者除了原作者及其自身的理性思考外没有其他参照。

这样有一定的缺点：每个作者的话难免有难解或不可解之处，一些重要的背景知识会缺失。例如，读者对亨利·梭罗创作时的情况毫无头绪，也不了解该书的接受情况及影响。不过，这样做的优点也很明显。最突出的优点是，作者的初衷又一次变得重要起来——托马斯·潘恩的愤怒、查尔斯·达尔文的灵光、塞内加的隐逸。这些作家在那么多国家影响了那么多人的生活，其影响不可估量，有的长达几个世纪，读他们书的乐趣罕有匹敌。没有亚当·斯密或阿图尔·叔本华，难以想象我们今天的世界。这些小书的创作年代已很久远，但其中的话已彻底改变了我们的政治学、经济学、智力生活、社会规划和宗教信仰。

《伟大的思想》丛书一直求新求变。地区不同，收录的作家也不同。在中国或美国，一些作家更受欢迎。英国《伟大的思想》收录的一些作家在其他地方则默默无闻。称其为“伟大的思想”，我们亦慎之又慎。思想之伟大，在于其影响之深远，而不意味着这些思想是“好”的，实际上一些书可列入“坏”思想之列。丛书中很多作家受到同一丛书其他作家的很大影响，例如，马塞尔·普鲁斯特承认受约翰·罗斯金影响很大，米歇尔·德·蒙田也承认深受塞内加影响，但其他作家彼此憎恨，如果发现他们被收入同一丛书，一定会气愤难平。不过，读者可自行决定这些思想是否合理。我们衷心希望，您能在阅读这些杰作中得到乐趣。

《伟大的思想》出版者

西蒙·温德尔

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

Penguin's Great Ideas series began publication in 2004. In the UK we now have 80 copies in print with plans to publish a further 20. A somewhat smaller list is published in the USA and a related, even smaller series in Germany. The books have sold now well over two million copies and have popularized philosophy and politics for many people around the world - particularly students. The launch of a Chinese Great Ideas series is an extremely exciting new development.

The intention behind the series was to allow readers to be once more face to face with some of the great nonfiction classics. For too long the editions of these books were created on the assumption that you were studying them in the classroom and that the student needed an introduction, extensive notes, a bibliography and so on. While this sort of edition is of course extremely useful, I thought it would be interesting to recreate a more intimate feeling - to recreate the atmosphere in which, for example, Thomas Paine's Common Sense or John Ruskin's On Art and Life was first published - where the reader has no other guide than the original author and his or her own common sense.

This method has its severe disadvantages - there will inevitably be statements made by each author which are either hard or impossible to understand, some important context might be missing. For example the reader has no clue as to the conditions under which Henry Thoreau was writing his book and the reader cannot be aware of the books reception or influence. The advantages however are very clear - most importantly the original intentions of the author become once more important. The sense of anger in Thomas Paine, of intellectual excitement in Charles Darwin, of resignation in Seneca - few things can be more thrilling than to read writers who have had such immeasurable influence on so many lives, sometimes for centuries, in many different countries. Our world would not make sense without Adam Smith or Arthur Schopenhauer - our politics, economics, intellectual lives, social planning, religious beliefs have all been fundamentally changed by the words in these little books, first written down long ago.

The Great Ideas series continues to change and evolve. In different parts of the world different writers would be included. In China or in the United States there are some writers who are liked much more than others. In the UK there are writers in the Great Ideas series who are ignored elsewhere. We have also been very careful to call the series Great Ideas - these ideas are great because they have been so enormously influential, but this does not mean that they are Good Ideas - indeed some of the books would probably qualify as Bad Ideas. Many of the writers in the series have been massively influenced by others in the series - for example Marcel Proust owned so much to John Ruskin, Michel de Montaigne to Seneca. But others hated each other and would be distressed to find themselves together in the same series! But readers can decide the validity of these ideas for themselves. We very much hope that you enjoy these remarkable books.

Simon Winder

Publisher

Great Ideas

目录

观　念——《伟大的思想》代序

《伟大的思想》中文版序

Introduction to the Chinese Editions of Great Ideas

一　美国历史上边疆的重要性（1893）

二　西部问题（1896）

三　密西西比河谷在美国历史中的意义（1909-1910）

四　美国历史中的社会力量（1910）

The Significance of the Frontier in American History

I The Significance of the Frontier in American History (1893)

II The Problem of the West (1896)

III The Significance of the Mississippi Valley in American History (1909-1910)

IV Social Forces in American History (1910)

返回总目录

一

美国历史上边疆的重要性（1893）

在最近发布的1890年人口普查局局长公告里，有这么几句重要的话：“直到（包括）1880年，我国还有一片待开发的边疆地带，而这片原本无人定居的区域，现在被一些各自为政的定居点所占据，所以已经不能说还有什么边疆了。因此，对边疆范围以及向西拓殖运动等进行的讨论，也不能在人口普查报告中再占据篇幅了。”这则简短的官方声明，宣告了一项伟大历史运动的结束。直至今天，美国历史在很大程度上是对于大西部的拓殖史。一片自由土地的存在，它的持续萎缩，以及美国拓殖的不断西进，解释了美国的发展进程。

在社会制度背后，在宪法的制定和修正背后，蕴藏着一股极其重要的力量，让这些机构充满生机，不断调整以适应变化了的情况。美国社会制度的独特之处在于，它们一直要不断适应人口膨胀带来的变化——这些变化是在移民穿越大陆、改造旷野、让边疆从原始的经济政治状态向复杂城市生活的蜕变进程中发生的。卡尔霍恩[1]在1817年说过：“我们很伟大，正在快速地——我要说是可怕地——发展着！”这句话道出了美国生活的一个显著特色。所有的民族都有发展；政治制度的根源理论已经强调得够多了。但对大多数国家来说，发展只是在有限的区域内发生；如果一个国家扩张领土，就必须应付它所征服了的其他发展中的民族。但是美国的情形不同。如果把视线放在大西洋沿岸，我们也有这种习见的现象，即公共结构在有限区域内的进化，比如代议制政府的崛起；简单的殖民政府分化成复杂的机构；没有劳动分工的原始工业社会进步到制造业文明。而此外，我们在拓殖运动中达到的每一个西部地区，也重复这种进化的过程。由此可见，美国的发展不单是一条直线的前进运动，而是在不断推进的边境线上向原始状态的回归和在该地区的新发展。美国的社会发展不断在边疆从头反复进行。这种不断的重生、美国生活的流动性、西部拓殖带来的新机会以及与简单原始社会的不断接触，培育了支配美国性格的力量。要真正理解美国的历史，只有把视线从大西洋沿岸转向大西部。即便是冯·霍斯特教授[2]等作家作为专门研究对象的废奴斗争，它之所以在美国历史上占据重要地位，也是因为与西部拓殖运动的关系。

在拓殖进程中，边疆是浪潮的外部边缘——野蛮和文明的交汇点。从边界战争和驱逐印第安人的角度来论述边疆的不乏其人，但它作为经济学家和历史学家进行严肃研究的一个领域，一直没能引起重视。

美国边疆与欧洲边疆截然不同，后者是一条设防的边界线，从稠密的人口中间穿过。美国边疆最显著的特色是，它位于自由区域这一边的边缘上。在人口普查报告中，它被视为人口密度为每平方英里两人及以上的定居点的边缘地带。这个定义是有伸缩性的，而就我们的目的而言，也不需要严格的定义。我们将把整个边疆地带考虑在内，包括印第安人的村落和人口普查报告中提到的“定居点”的外缘。本论文不打算对这一问题做全面详尽的阐述；目的只是要引起人们对边疆的关注，认识到边疆问题值得大力研究，并提出一些与之相联的问题。

在美国的殖民地开拓中，我们要观察欧洲的生活方式如何进入大陆，而美国又如何调整和发展了这种生活方式，并反过来影响了欧洲。我们早期的历史是对欧洲根源在美国环境下发展的研究。社会制度的学者一直从日耳曼起源的角度来研究美国，几乎没有关注美国自身的因素。边疆是美国化最快速和最富有成效的地带。荒野征服了移民。他初来时，在着装、工业、工具、旅行方式和思维上都是欧洲式的。而荒野把他从火车上拉到了独木舟里；脱下他文明的外衣，给他穿上打猎装和鹿皮靴；让他住在彻罗基人和易洛魁人（北美印第安人的分支）的小木屋里，周围打上印第安人的栅栏。不久，他开始种植玉米，用一根尖木棍犁地；他发出喊杀声，用地道的印第安方式剥下人的头皮。简言之，边疆原始的环境对移民来说太严酷了。他只能接受这个环境提供的一切条件，否则就要灭亡，所以他要适应印第安人开辟出来的地方，循着印第安人辟出的小路前进。他一步一步地改造了荒野，但改造的结果既不是传统的欧洲模式，也不是简单日耳曼发展模式的再现，甚至从最初的现象来看，它也不具备日耳曼式发展的起源特征。事实上，这是一个美国式的新产品。最开始，边疆指的是大西洋沿岸。它从地理位置上的确是欧洲的边疆。越往西推进，边疆的美国特征就越明显。正如一层层堆石是由冰河不断流过堆积而成的一样，边疆的每一次推进，都在它后来的发展上留下痕迹。它发展成一个定居点后，依然保留着边疆的特征。如此说来，边疆的开拓就意味着逐渐摆脱欧洲的影响，和逐渐增强美国的特征。而研究边疆的开拓，研究在这一进程中成长起来的人们，以及它所产生的政治、经济和社会结果，就是研究真正的美国历史。

在17世纪，边疆扩展到了大西洋河道的上游，刚刚越过“瀑布线”[3]，潮水域地区[4]成为定居地带。在18世纪上半叶，殖民地开拓有了新进展。在1725年末，商人们跟随特拉华州和沙瓦尼斯的印第安人来到俄亥俄州。弗吉尼亚州州长斯伯茨伍德在1714年进行了一次探险，越过了蓝岭[5]。在1725年末，苏格兰-爱尔兰人和法耳次[6]的德意志人，沿谢南多厄河谷向北进入弗吉尼亚州的西部以及南、北卡罗来纳州的皮德蒙特地区。纽约的德意志人将他们定居地的边境线推进到莫霍克河上游，建立起德意志州。在宾夕法尼亚州，贝德福德镇是边境线。很快在新河（或者叫康纳华河），在雅德金河源和法兰西布罗德，开始了殖民地的开拓。英国国王1763年的宣言试图阻止边疆推进，宣言禁止在流入大西洋的河流源头之外的地方开拓土地，但这是徒劳。在革命时期，边疆跨过阿勒格尼山脉，到达肯塔基和田纳西，俄亥俄河上游地区便被开发出来。1790年进行第一次人口普查时，用一条界线圈定了正在进行土地开拓的区域，它沿着缅因河岸附近，包括新英格兰[7]（除佛蒙特州的一部分和新罕布什尔州），哈得孙河畔的纽约，莫霍克河上游的斯克内克塔迪，宾夕法尼亚州的东部和南部，弗吉尼亚州跨越谢南多厄河谷的地区，南、北卡罗来纳州和佐治亚州的东部。除了这块正在不断开拓的区域外，位于肯塔基、田纳西和俄亥俄的一些小面积区域也在进行开拓，它们和大西洋沿岸地带之间有山脉阻隔，这也赋予了边疆一个新的重要特征。这个区域自成一体，具有了显著的美国特征，它与东部联系对交通设施的需要，引起了国内改革的重要措施，这一点后面将详细讨论。而西部作为一个自觉区域，开始发展起来。

边疆每十年都会有显著的推进。1820年人口普查时，已开发的区域包括俄亥俄州、印第安纳州南部和伊利诺伊州、密苏里州东南部和路易斯安那州大约一半的区域。这一开发区域环绕着印第安人定居点，如何管理这些部落成为重要的政治问题。当时的边疆位于五大湖沿岸（那里有阿斯特的美国皮毛公司，专做印第安人的生意）和密西西比河以西（印第安人在那里把生意扩展到了落基山）；佛罗里达州也具备成为边疆的条件。密西西比河流域是典型的边疆地带。

在这一时期，由于西部河流上轮船航行的日益兴盛，伊利运河的开凿，棉花种植业向西扩展，联邦中加入了边疆新开拓的五个州。格伦德在1836年写道，“美国人普遍倾向于移民到西部荒野，扩张对大自然的统治，这似乎是他们内在固有的扩张力量导致的结果。这种力量不断发动社会各个阶层，将人口的一大部分都送到美国的边疆，为其发展拓展空间。没有源源而来的移民，一个新的州和领地是发展不起来的；所以移民大潮注定会继续，直到出现一个天然的障碍，最终阻止它的发展。”

在19世纪中期，印第安准州[8]的东部边界、内布拉斯加和堪萨斯所代表的界线，构成了印第安人的边疆。明尼苏达和威斯康星虽然也具备边疆的条件，但这个时期典型的边疆在加利福尼亚（那里金矿的发现引发了一股淘金热）、俄勒冈和犹他的殖民地。正如之前边疆越过了阿勒格尼山脉，现在它越过了大草原[9]和落基山脉；同样地，正如到达阿勒格尼山脉以东的边疆移民引起了交通和国内改革的重要问题，现在落基山脉以西的移民需要通信手段与东部联系，如此便必须开发大草原，发展另外一种边疆生活方式。在政府赠与地[10]上修建的铁路，将越来越多的移民送到了远西地区[11]。在明尼苏达、达科他和印第安准州，美国陆军进行了一系列讨伐印第安人的战争。

到1880年，殖民地开拓已经推进到密歇根州北部、威斯康星州、明尼苏达州，遍及达科他河沿岸和黑山区，并往堪萨斯河和内布拉斯加河上游推进。科罗拉多州采矿业的发展将游离的边疆开拓者吸引到这个地区，蒙大拿州和爱达荷州也在接收移民。在采矿者的帐篷里和大草原的牧场上，都能看到移民的身影。负责1890年人口普查的局长称（我们在前面已经提及），西部的定居点在这个地区非常分散，因此已经不能再说存在一条划分边疆的界线了。

在这些不断开拓出来的边疆上，我们发现了一些天然的边界线，它们是边疆与非边疆的分界线，并影响了边疆的特征，它们就是：“瀑布线”，阿勒格尼山脉，密西西比河，流向大致从北到南的密苏里河，大约处在西经99度的干旱地带，落基山脉。17世纪标记边疆界线的是“瀑布线”，18世纪是阿勒格尼山脉，19世纪头25年是密西西比河，19世纪中期是密苏里河（向加利福尼亚的移民运动除外），现在的分界线则是落基山脉一带和干旱地带。每块边疆都是通过一系列与印第安人的战争赢得的。

在大西洋沿岸的边疆，人们可以研究殖民地拓殖的根源，它们在接下来的边疆开拓中不断重复。在蛮荒的边疆，移民从复杂的欧洲生活方式急转之下，被迫适应原始条件的简陋。第一个边疆的开拓面临着与印第安人的问题，对公共土地的处置问题，与旧殖民地交往办法的问题，推广政治组织的问题，以及开展宗教和教育活动的问题。前一个边疆对此类问题的解决，就成为后一个边疆的行动指南。美国学生不需要到“最初的小镇——斯列斯威克”去寻找发展过程中持续性和规律性的实例。比如，他可以从殖民地的土地政策研究现今土地政策的根源；他也可以通过让法令适应不断开拓出的边疆的习俗，看到法律体系是如何发展起来的。他可以看到在以威斯康星、伊利诺伊和爱荷华为首地区的采矿经验是如何应用到西斯拉山的采矿法上，我们的印第安政策如何在不断开拓的边疆成为一系列试验。每一个新成立的州都从先于它成立的州找到制订宪法的材料。因此，每块边疆都为美国性格的形成作出了相似的贡献，这一点我们之后还会讨论。

除了这许多的相同点，边疆之间由于地域和时间的因素也存在着本质的不同。显而易见，密西西比河谷以农业为主的边疆与落基山以采矿为主的边疆，自然条件截然不同。大西洋铁路能够通到的、被测绘成许多长方形的、被美国陆军守护的、每天都有移民人口运来补充人口的边疆，与只能乘桦皮船和马匹才能到达的边疆相比，发展速度显然更快，发展方式也截然不同。地质学家耐心地测量古代海洋的海岸，丈量它们的面积，把新的和旧的进行比较。这一工作值得历史学家学习，因为他们也有必要对不同的边疆进行标记，并详加比较。这样不仅能对美国的发展和特征产生一个更加适当的概念，而且对社会历史也会做出非常宝贵的补充。

意大利的经济学家洛里亚曾大力主张研究殖民地的生活方式，以更好地理解欧洲各个发展阶段的问题。他断言，殖民地之于经济科学正如山脉之于发现原始成层作用的地质学。“欧洲徒劳了几个世纪来寻找揭开历史谜团的一把钥匙，”他说，“原来这把钥匙在美国，这个没有历史的国家却清晰地揭示了世界历史的进程。”这句话蕴涵了很多真理。美国的边疆发展史是人类社会史上巨大的一页。我们一行一行地阅读着关于这个大陆的一页，从西部到东部，我们都能找到社会进化的记录。它从印第安人和狩猎开始，继而讲到由于文明的引路者——商人——的出现而造成奴隶制的解体；我们读到对牧场生活方式中农业阶段的记录；读到人口稀少的农业社区开发土地来种植不须轮种的玉米和小麦的情形，读到人口较为稠密的农业定居地从事集约栽培的情形；以及最后出现的建立起城市和工厂的工业组织。人口普查数据研究员对这一页的记载是颇为熟悉的，然而我们历史学家对它的利用却远远不够。而对东部诸州来说，这一页是重新写过的。现在的工业州在十年以前却是一片从事集约农业的地区。早些时候这里是一片小麦种植区，而更早的时候，这是一片吸引牧人的“牧场”。因此，虽然威斯康星现在是以发展工业为主，它却是拥有多种农业的一个州。而早些时候，这里几乎是一个完全的“种谷区”，就像现在的北达科他一样。

以上提及的每一个地区都对我们的经济和政治历史产生了影响；而每一个地区向更高阶段发展时都发生了政治变革。但是宪法历史学家又做了什么适当的尝试来根据这些社会地区及其变化阐明政治事实呢？

大西洋边疆的人口组成是渔夫、皮毛交易商人、矿工、牧牛工人和农民。除了渔业，其他行业都以不可阻挡之势向西部发展。每个行业都穿越大陆向东推进，形成一股连绵不断的浪潮。站在坎伯兰岬口，看文明的队伍直线行进——最前方是走在到盐泉去的小路上的水牛；后面依次是印第安人、皮毛交易商人和猎人、牧牛工人、农民拓荒者——于是边疆就走过去了。一个世纪之后站在落基山脉的南山口，能看到同样的行进队伍，只是中间有很大间隔。由于前进的速度不同，我们不得不把边疆区分为商人的边疆、牧场主的边疆、矿工的边疆和农民的边疆。当矿山和牛圈还在瀑布线附近的时候，商人的运货火车正在穿越阿勒格尼山，而五大湖上的法国人看到英国商人的桦木舟大为惊恐，正在对驻地加强防卫。而当猎人为取得皮毛越过了落基山时，农民还在密苏里河口附近种地呢。

为什么印第安商人速度如此之快地穿越了美国大陆？商人边疆的开拓带来了什么影响？商业是在发现美洲大陆的同时开始的。古代北欧人、维斯普奇[12]、韦拉扎诺[13]、哈得孙[14]、约翰·史密斯[15]，都做过皮毛生意。当年英格兰清教徒前辈移民来到普利茅斯，在印第安人的玉米田里安顿下来，他们运回的第一批货物就是水獭皮和木材。新英格兰几个殖民地的历史文献记载，显示了皮毛生意如何稳步将探险活动深入西部蛮荒之地。可以想见，新英格兰的殖民地如此，其他的殖民地更是如此。从缅因一直到佐治亚的海岸，与印第安人的生意开辟了许多河道。商人们利用法国的旧商道一路西进。俄亥俄河、五大湖、密西西比河、密苏里河和普拉特河，都在西进的路线上。商人们溯河而上，在落基山脉找到通道，从而才有了后来的刘易斯和克拉克[16]、弗里蒙特[17]和彼德维尔[18]。西进运动发展如此迅速与商人对印第安人产生的影响息息相关。这种贸易的结果是，没有武器的部落必然是受到购买了火器的人的摆布的——这是易洛魁部族的印第安人用鲜血写下的一条真理，因此，那些偏远和与世隔绝的部落也热烈欢迎商人的到来。拉萨勒[19]写道：“那些野蛮人对待我们这些法国人比对待自己的孩子还要好些，因为只有从我们这里他们才能得到枪支和商品。”这也解释了商人势力之大和他西进速度之快的原因。就这样，使文明解体的力量进入了荒野。每一条河谷和印第安人辟出的小路都成为印第安社会的一条裂缝，使这个社会逐渐变得如蜂巢一般。远在拓荒的农民登场之前，原始的印第安生活方式已经消失了。农民们见到的印第安人都带着枪支。商业边疆通过枪支买卖，让印第安部落最终依存于白人，一步步削弱了印第安人的力量，同时也增强了印第安人抵抗农业边疆的力量。法国人的殖民是以商业边疆为主导的，而英国人的殖民是以农业边疆为主导的。这两大边疆的对立正如英法两国的对立一样。迪凯纳[20]对易洛魁人说道：“你们难道不知道英格兰国王和法国国王的不同吗？去看看我们法国的国王修筑的堡垒，你们就知道，在堡垒的高墙下你们依然可以狩猎。这些堡垒建在你们常去的地方，是为了保护你们的利益。而英国人呢，占领了一个地方，就立刻把猎物赶跑。他们一边前进，一边砍伐森林，剩下光秃秃的土地，让你们找个搭棚过夜的地方都很难。”

然而，尽管商业边疆和农业边疆有这种利益冲突，但与印第安人的贸易却为文明开辟了道路。水牛踏成的小路成为印第安人来往的小路，后来变成商“路”；小路拓宽变为马路，马路变为公路，公路后来又变成铁路。南方、远西地区和加拿大自治领的铁路——其起源莫不如此。这些小路通向的贸易站都建在印第安人的村落（这些地方一直以来就是天然场所）；这些贸易站控制着全国水利系统，逐渐发展成为诸如奥尔巴尼、匹兹堡、底特律、芝加哥、圣路易斯、康瑟尔布拉夫斯和堪萨斯城这样的城市。所以，美国的文明循着地质学构成的道路干线，像涨潮一样源源而至，直到最后土著交往的小路被拓宽，交织成像迷宫般复杂的现代商业线路；荒野不复存在，成为文明的日益增多的道路交织穿过的地方。这就好比在这片原本单纯、迟钝的大陆上渐渐发育出一个复杂的神经系统。如果有人想了解为什么我们今天会是一个国家，而不是一些各自为政的州的聚合体，他必须要研究这个国家的经济和社会基础。从蛮荒的环境发展到今天，其中蕴藏着可供进化论者研究的课题。

印第安人的边疆在我国历史上作为一个巩固因素，它产生的影响是很重要的。从17世纪末开始，殖民地间的联合会议多次召开，旨在商讨与印第安人的相处政策及建立共同防线的问题。在没有印第安人边疆的殖民地，自主独立政策占主导地位。而印第安人的边疆像一条纽带一样贯穿西部边境地带。印第安人是殖民者面临的共同威胁，要求各殖民地统一行动。这些会议中最著名的是1754年召开的阿尔巴尼会议，旨在商讨对抗六族联盟[21]的对策，并制定共同行动计划。大略读一下大会行动纲领就可以看出边疆的重要性。大会和与会官员的权力主要在于，决定与印第安人是和是战，制定与印第安人的贸易政策，购买印第安人土地，建立和管理新定居地以防御印第安人。显然，在美国独立战争时期，各殖民地之所以能形成统一战线，是因为有之前管理边疆时的合作所奠定的基础。从这一联系中，可以看到边疆的重要性，从那时到现在，它作为一所军事训练学校，使得抵抗侵略的力量蓬勃生长，发扬了边疆拓荒者英勇无畏的性格和艰苦奋斗的品质。

限于本篇论文的篇幅，不能把其他边疆在美洲大陆上的踪迹一一阐明。18世纪的旅行者能够在南方的甘蔗丛和长着野豌豆的牧场上发现“牛栏”，“牛倌”将牛群赶往查尔斯顿、费城和纽约。1812年战争[22]结束时，旅行者能遇见1000多个牛和猪的畜群，它们从俄亥俄州腹地来，赶去宾夕法尼亚州放牧，等养得膘肥体壮后送往费城的市场。大草原的山地上，有牧场、牛仔和过着游牧生活的居民，昨天如此，今天依然如故。卡罗来纳州牛栏的经验为得克萨斯州的牧场主提供了借鉴。一个有助于牧场主的边疆迅速扩张的因素是，在缺乏交通设施的偏僻乡村，产品一定要容易运输，或者必须能够运输，这样牧场主才能容易地把自己的畜群赶往市场。这些大牧场对当地后来的农业史所产生的影响，应该加以研究。

人口普查报告中的地图显示，农业边疆的发展是不平衡的，已开发的土地和蛮荒之地犬牙交错。造成这种情形的原因，部分是由于印第安人的抵抗，部分是由于河谷和隘口的位置，另外一部分是由于具有吸引力的边疆各中心力量不均等。而重要的具有吸引力的中心要具备以下几个要素：肥沃且地理位置优越的土地、盐泉、矿藏和军事驻地。

边疆的军事驻地，本是为保护移民免受印第安人的骚扰设立的，结果像一把楔子劈开印第安人的区域，成为定居地的中心。这里有必要提一下政府为确定殖民地开拓路线而进行的军事行动和远征探险。但所有重要的远征很大程度上要归功于最早的开路者、印第安向导、零售商人和皮毛商人、运送毛皮的法国船夫，他们是自刘易斯和克拉克时代起，政府组织的远征活动中不可或缺的组成部分。每次远征都是西进运动以前各种因素的缩影。

在一本引起关注的专著中，维克多·黑恩追溯了盐对于早期欧洲发展的影响，并指出它是如何影响了殖民地开拓路线和政府管理形式。对于美国的盐泉也可以进行相似的研究。早期的移民因为需要盐，都住在海岸一带，不敢远离，因为没有盐他们就无法腌制肉类和过舒适的生活。斯班根堡主教在1752年提到他替一个殖民团在北卡罗来纳州寻找土地时，这样写道：“他们需要盐和其他一些生活必需品，因为这些东西他们既无法生产又不能饲养。所以他们要么到300英里远的查尔斯顿去……要么到詹姆斯河支流弗吉尼亚的柏林站区，那个地方距此也有300英里……再不然就顺罗阿诺克河而下——我不知道它距此多少英里——那里的盐是从恐怖角运上来的。”这可以作为一个典型的例证。每年到海岸一带运盐就成为必需的了。早期的殖民者在每年的播种时期过后，带着畜群或皮毛，还有人参的根茎，成群结队地来到海岸。由于这几乎是拓荒者了解东部情形的唯一方式，所以产生了重要的教育性影响。但是随着盐泉在卡诺瓦河、霍尔斯顿河、肯塔基和纽约中部的发现，西部开始摆脱对海岸的依赖。盐泉的发现，是使得移民们能够翻越群山的部分原因。

从拓荒者离开海岸翻越崇山峻岭后，一种新的美国生活方式开始形成。西部和东部开始失去联系。从海边徙居山上的移民与后方保持着联系，存在着休戚相关的联系。但是那些翻过山的人们变得日益独立。东部对美国的向西拓殖存在偏见，几乎对这些人置之不顾。肯塔基和田纳西的历史记录有足够的证据能证明这一点。东部开始试图制止和限制向西的拓殖。尽管韦伯斯特[23]声明在他的政策里没有阿勒格尼山脉的问题，但在一般的政治主张中阿勒格尼山脉确实是一个非常重要的因素。

野兽将猎人和商人带到了西部，草场将牧场主带到了西部，河谷和高草原的处女地把农民吸引到西部。农业边疆最持久的吸引力所在就是肥沃的土地。弗吉尼亚人在殖民时代早期，出于对土地的渴望，顺流而下到了卡罗来纳；马萨诸塞人为寻找沃土来到宾夕法尼亚和纽约。东部的土地被全部占领后，移民大潮由东到西，滚滚而去。丹尼尔·布恩[24]这位伟大的边疆开拓者，会打猎、经商、饲养牲畜、种地和勘探，他很可能从商人处得知亚德金河上游（这是商人进入印第安人的地区时惯常休息之处）土地肥美，于是和父亲一起离开宾夕法尼亚的家，由大谿谷而下，到达亚德金河。后来，他从一个商人那里了解到肯塔基有大量的猎物和丰美的牧场，便充当了农民的开路先锋，进入到这个地区。他从那里又到达密苏里的边疆，在此定居下来，他的定居点很长时期都是边疆的界标。在这里，他又一次为文明开辟了道路，发现了动物舐食岩盐的盐渍地、道路和土地。他的儿子是最早在落基山的山道为取得皮毛而捕兽的人，据说这个儿子和他的伙伴是第一批在今天的丹佛宿营的人。他的孙子——科罗拉多的布恩上校——在落基山脉的印第安人中颇有影响力，曾被政府任命为印第安事务总督。基特·卡森[25]的母亲就是布恩家族的人。如此一来，布恩家族就成为边远居民横跨大陆向西拓殖的一个缩影。

农民的西进像一波一波的浪潮，滚滚而来。在佩克于1837年在波士顿出版的《新西进指南》中，有下面一段引人深思的文字：

“一般说来，向西部拓殖的移民可分为三大人群，他们像海浪一样，前浪推后浪，滔滔而来。最先到来的是拓荒者，他主要依靠植物生长和打猎所得，来维持一家生计。他使用的农具很简陋，大多是自己做的，他的精力主要放在一季庄稼的收成和‘蔬菜地’上。‘蔬菜地’是一个简陋的菜园子，种有卷心菜、豆类、嫩玉米、黄瓜和土豆。对他来说，有个小木屋住，偶尔有个马厩和玉米穗仓库，一块用木栅栏围起来的十几英亩的土地——就已经足够了。他是否是土地的所有者，这个问题无关紧要。他是目前的土地占有者，无需交租金，和‘庄园主’一样感觉独立自主。只要有一匹马、一头牛、一两头小猪崽，他带着家人走进森林，就成为一个新的村落甚至是一个州的创立者。他建造起小木屋，找几个兴趣和习惯相近的家庭搬来做他的邻居，然后开始占领土地，一直到土地初步得到开垦，猎物越来越少，或者更经常的情形是，他的邻居越来越多，道路、桥梁和田地让他感到苦恼，因为他没有土地可占了。先购权[26]的法律让他可以将自己的小木屋和玉米田卖给下一拨移民。然后他利用手里的本钱，‘披荆斩棘进入密林’，‘将新的财产再次变卖’，或者移民到阿肯色或者得克萨斯，将上述过程重新来过。

“后来的这拨移民购买了土地，将田地一块一块连接起来，修路、架桥（简陋的桥）、造屋（带玻璃窗户和砖石烟囱），偶尔种植果树、修建磨坊、学校和法院等，描绘出一幅简单、朴素、文明的生活方式的图景。

“另一个浪潮卷来了。企业主资本家来了。当地人乐于利用资产升值的机会变卖家产，往西部腹地挺进，自己也成为企业主资本家。小村庄发展成为宽广的城镇或城市；宏伟的砖造建筑、宽广的田地、果园、花园、大学和教堂出现了。细平布、丝绸、宽边草帽、绉绸，以及各种各样的精致品、奢侈品、优雅品、装饰品和时尚品都流行起来。就这样，前浪推着后浪，滚滚向西流去；真正的‘黄金国’[27]还在远处。

“前两大人群中有一部分人在大迁移中始终留在原地，他们改进了自己的生活习惯和生活条件，逐步提高了社会地位。

“笔者曾在第一类人群——真正的拓荒者——中获得很多见闻。并且和第二类人群在一起相处过很多年；现在第三拨浪潮正在席卷印第安纳、伊利诺伊和密苏里的大部分地区。迁移在西部几乎成为一个习惯。可以找到几百个男子，他们虽然还不满五十岁，却已经是第四次、第五次甚至第六次在一个新的地方定居下来。将全部家当变卖后搬走，哪怕搬到不过几百英里远的地方，这是边疆居民的一种生活习惯。”

除了那些出于对冒险的热爱而迁移的农民拓荒者，其他一些更稳定的农民为什么也向西迁移，这也容易理解。显然，是边疆廉价的土地吸引了移民，甚至当地的农民也强烈地感受到廉价土地的影响。农民赖土地为生，因为不是轮种，收成一年年减少，而政府此时以极低的价钱向他们出售边疆未开垦的土地。家庭人口的增多，使他们需要更多的土地，而这里的土地价格昂贵。相比之下，大草原的土地取之不尽、廉价且容易开垦，这让农民们面临两个选择，要么到西部的新边疆继续开垦土地，要么从事集约农业。1890年的人口普查报告显示，在西北地区，许多郡都出现了绝对或相对的人口下降。它们所在的州一边派农民到大平原上开拓边疆，一边让农民开始从事集约农业和制造业。在这之前十年，俄亥俄州也经历了同样的过渡阶段。就这样，对土地的需要和对荒野自由的热爱，将边疆进一步往前推进。

前面我们主要从边疆本身入手，对不同种类的边疆以及它们各自的推进方式做了概述，下面我们要阐述这对于东部和旧世界[28]的影响。这里我仅快速列举一下一些比较显著的影响。

首先，我们注意到，边疆让美国成为各民族的大熔炉。海岸一带的居民主要是英国人，但后来从欧洲大陆来的移民潮水般涌向了自由土地。这是殖民地时代早期的情形。殖民地时期边疆的主要人群是苏格兰-爱尔兰人和法耳次的德意志人，或者“德裔宾州人”[29]。另外，还有一些获得自由的契约奴隶，或者无票乘船的赴美移民[30]，他们在服役期满后也来到边疆。弗吉尼亚州州长斯伯茨伍德在1717年写道：“我国边疆的居民主要是运到这里来的奴隶，他们获得自由后，便定居下来，开垦土地，不必付出太多劳动就能维持生计。”通常来说，那些做仆役偿还船资的移民都不是来自英国。在边疆这个大熔炉里，移民们被美国化，得到解放，融合成一个混杂的民族，这个民族既没有英国的民族性，也没有英国的特征。这一进程从殖民地早期一直持续到今天。18世纪中期的作家如伯克都认为，宾夕法尼亚州“面临在语言、习惯，甚至是性情上都全盘异化的威胁。”在南方的边疆，德意志人和苏格兰-爱尔兰人的影响也相当大。19世纪中期，德意志人在威斯康星州的影响如此之大，以至于它著名的政论家希望通过将移民集中起来，建立一个脱离联邦的德国州。这类例子也提醒我们注意，不要因为美国人都说英语，就错误地得出美国人的祖先也都是英国人这一结论。

开拓边疆也以另一种方式减少了我们对英国的依赖。海滨地区——尤其在南方——的工业缺乏多样性，所以大部分日常用品都靠英国供应。在南方甚至连食品都依赖北部殖民地供应。18世纪中期，南卡罗来纳州州长格兰写道，“我们与纽约和费城的交易以这样的方式进行，它们榨干了我们从别处筹来的所有零钱和钞票，来购买它们的面包、面粉、啤酒、火腿、熏肉等产品。如今，除了啤酒外，其他产品我们的新城镇都可以供应，这些新城镇的居民是一些非常勤劳、生意兴隆的德国人。这样无疑减少了船舶数目，影响了我们的贸易，但远没有对我们的利益构成损害。”不久之后，边疆的发展开始需要商人。随着边疆从海岸向内陆日益推进，英国越来越不可能直接把货物运到消费者的码头，然后运走主要的农作物。有一段时间，主要农作物的种植被多种农业经营所替代。当我们看到边疆的发展如何刺激了沿海城市——如波士顿、纽约和巴尔的摩——与华盛顿所谓的“一个正在崛起的帝国的广泛而宝贵的贸易”相竞争，就知道这段时期边疆对北方造成的影响是多么大了。

使国民政府发挥最大力量，并对政府活动产生最大影响的立法，是在边疆影响下进行的。著书立说者将关税、土地、国内发展都作为奴隶制度的附属问题来讨论。但如果正确看待美国历史，就会发现奴隶制度只是一个小插曲。从19世纪上半叶末期到南北战争结束，奴隶制上升为首要问题，但绝不是唯一的问题。但这并不能证明冯·霍斯特教授（仅举一例）论述我国宪法历史的方式是合理的，在《美国制宪史》中，他只用了一卷的篇幅来论述从宪法形成初期直到1828年的制宪史，却用了整整六卷来论述从1828年到1861年的奴隶制历史。民族主义的发展和美国政治制度的进化，是与边疆的推进休戚相关的。即使是近代的作家如罗德斯，他在《1850年妥协案以来的美国史》中，也将由西进运动引起的立法看做是奴隶制斗争的附属事件。

这是个错误的视角。因为拓荒者需要沿海地区的商品，一系列关于国内改革和铁路的法律便开始制定，并对国有化产生了重要影响。很多争论围绕国内改革展开，其中便讨论了一些重大的宪法问题。在选举中出现了地方团体，这对历史学家来说意义重大。随着西进运动日益深入，自由解释宪法的情形增加了。但是西部并不满足于工厂变农场。在克莱[31]——“西部的哈里”——的领导下，保护性关税法案获得通过，当时提出的口号是“农场变工厂”。公共土地的处置，成为边疆影响下国家立法的第三大重要议题。

国有土地的所有权曾是国有化和政府发展中的一股重要力量。有土地州和无土地州[32]之间的斗争，以及1787年的西北土地法令，它们造成的影响无须讨论。从行政方面讲，边疆促成了全国政府的某些最高尚和最具生气的活动。购买路易斯安那州也许是美国共和国史上的立法转折点，因为它一方面为国民立法开辟了新领域，另一方面为消灭严格解释宪法的政策提供了机会。而购买路易斯安那州是边疆的需要和需求促成的。当边疆各州纷纷加入联邦，国家的力量于是大增。拉马尔在卡尔霍恩纪念碑落成的典礼上致辞道：“1789年，各州是联邦政府的创立者；1861年，联邦政府是大多数州的创立者。”

当我们从公共土地的出售和处置的角度来考虑国有土地所有权的问题时，就再次要面对边疆问题。美国的土地处理政策与欧洲的科学管理体制形成鲜明对比。让国有土地成为税收来源，不让移民获得土地所有权以保证定居地住满人口，这一切努力都是徒劳。尽管东部又妒又怕，但在边疆居民的要求面前，显得软弱无力。约翰·昆西·亚当斯不得不承认：“我建立的行政体制，为的是让国有土地成为持续的国内改革永不枯竭的资金来源，而它已经失败了。”原因很明显，西部需要的不是行政体制，而是土地。亚当斯这样来描述当时的情况：“南方的奴隶主以西部土地行贿，换得了西部诸郡的合作，一方面舍弃本身的一部分公有财产送给新成立的西部诸州，另一方面帮助他们千方百计把所有土地都拿到手。作为克莱先生的美国体制的替代品，这个体制是由汤姆斯·本顿[33]创立的，他本人也取代克莱成为西部顶尖的政治家。克莱先生也抛弃了自己的美国体制，与卡尔霍恩先生达成了关税妥协案。于此同时，他提出将出售公共土地的所有收入分配给联邦诸州的议案。这一议案在国会的上下议院都获得通过，但被杰克逊总统否决了，在1832年12月的年度咨文中，杰克逊总统正式声明，所有公共土地都应该无偿赠与冒险家个人和土地所在的各州。”

“在呈送给历届国会的所有议案中，没有一个比得上这个关于公共土地处置的议案重要。”亨利·克莱说。考虑到政府的土地政策对美国政治、经济和社会生活产生的深远影响，我们应该会同意他的说法。但这一法律是在边疆的影响下和西部政治家如本顿和杰克逊的领导下制定的。印第安纳州参议员司各特在1841年说道：“我认为先购权的法律不过是移民的习惯法或普通法而已。”

可以有把握地说，与土地、税收和国内改革有关的立法——主张土地国有化的辉格党[34]的美国体制——是以边疆的主张和需求为转移的。但是，边疆与沿海地区地方主义的对抗不仅仅是通过立法行动。边疆自身的经济和社会特征也与地方主义水火不容。边疆的移民与中部地区更为相像，而不是南方或北方。宾夕法尼亚州是边疆移民的策源地，那里的移民沿着大谿谷进入弗吉尼亚州西部和南、北卡罗来纳州，但是这些来自南方的边疆移民所发展的工业社会一直都与中部地区更为相像，而不是南方的潮水域地区，后来，南方潮水域地区将它的工业形式发展到整个南方。

中部地区通过纽约港，可以通向全欧洲。南方潮水域地区的居民是典型的英国人，因为热带气候和体力劳动有所改变，在大种植园过着贵族式的生活；新英格兰代表了一种特殊的英国运动——清教主义。与上述两个地区相比，中部地区的英国特征更加弱化。这里是一个多民族的大融合，社会生活多种多样，当地政府采用的是城郡混合体制，经济生活多样，宗教派系繁多。简言之，这是一个介于新英格兰和南方，以及东部和西部之间的地带。它代表了现代美国呈现出的多民族特征，代表了非英国人群体的并列存在，这些非英国人通常占据一个河谷或一小块定居地，其种类之多极像欧洲地图。中部地域的特点即使不能说是美国的，也是民主的和非地方主义的；这里的居民“平和，宽容，满足”，物质富裕的观念根深蒂固。这里是现代美国的典型缩影。中部地区的地方主义是最少的，不仅因为它位于南方和北方之间，而且因为它的边疆和定居地之间没有障碍，加上水利系统完备，它既是东部和西部地区之间的过渡，又是南方和北方之间的过渡。所以，中部成为了典型的美国地区。即使是新英格兰人，因为和边疆之间隔着中部地区，在西进运动中一直跟在纽约或宾夕法尼亚州身后，他们根深蒂固的地方主义在途中也丢掉了。

棉花种植业传入南方腹地，最终打破了潮水域地区和南方其他地区的差异，将南方的利益与奴隶制度联系在一起。在这一进程显露出影响之前，与宾夕法尼亚州在人群、社会和工业上都相似的南方西部，表现出这样一种倾向——抛弃先父们的信念，推行国内改革立法和民族主义。在1829年至1830年举行的弗吉尼亚修宪会议上，来自切斯特菲尔德郡（潮水域地区的一个郡）的代表利先生这样说道：

“促成这次大会召开的一个主要不满因素，是一种对国内改革过于自信的热情，这种热情让我们抛弃对先父事业的崇敬，教我们蔑视亨利、梅森和彭德尔顿的观点，让我们放弃对州的合法权威的尊敬。我说这话是有根据的，因为来自西部的绅士跟我公开说过很多次。让我来告诉来自阿尔比马勒的绅士（戈登先生），进行革命的人还有另外一个主要目标，那就是推翻州权的学说（弗吉尼亚州一直是这一学说的主要支持者），并通过重组州议会，将弗吉尼亚州也拴在联邦政府的大车上，扫除弗吉尼亚对联邦政府干涉国内改革设置的障碍。”

西部的这种土地国有化趋势，使杰斐逊的民主变成了门罗[35]的国家共和主义和安德鲁·杰克逊[36]的民主。1812年战争时期的西部，克莱、本顿和哈里森[37]以及安德鲁·杰克逊时期的西部，由于中部诸州[38]和群山的阻隔同海滨地区断绝了联系，它本身基于国家化的趋势团结一致起来。北方和南方在“河流之父”[39]流过的地方汇合，融为一个国家。移民大潮继续在各州间稳步进行，这是一个思想与制度相互交流的进程。这句话的真理并没有因为西部边疆各地区在奴隶制上的激烈斗争而减少，反而证明了这句话的真理。奴隶制是一个顽固的地域性特征，但是在西部它就不是地域性的了。一个最伟大的边疆开拓者曾说过：“我相信联邦政府决不会永久容忍半奴隶制半自由的状态，一方最终会压倒另一方。”没有什么比国内交往更能促进民族主义发展。人口的流动性使地方主义走到尽头，西部边疆无可避免地造成了人口流动。边疆发展产生的这一结果，反过来深刻地影响了大西洋沿岸，甚至是旧世界。

但是边疆最重要的影响是促进了民主在美国和欧洲的发展。我们之前提过，边疆是个人主义的发源地。在蛮荒的边疆，复杂的社会形式突然退化为一种以家庭为基本单位的原始组织。这一趋势是反社会的。它让人们抵触外界的控制，尤其是任何直接控制。征税者被视为压迫的代表。奥斯古德教授曾在一篇出色的文章中，指出殖民地普遍存在的边疆环境是解释美国革命的重要因素，在那里，个人自由和强有力政府的缺位，有时竟会混为一谈。这同样可以帮助解释为什么在邦联时期[40]很难建立一个强有力的政府。边疆的个人主义从一开始就对民主发展产生了积极影响。

在联邦[41]成立的第一个二十五年加入的边疆诸州，都是带着民主选举的规定加入的，并且对旧州产生了重大影响，把旧州的移民吸引到那里。扩大选举权成为必要的了。西部的纽约在1821年纽约州的立宪会议上，迫使大会通过了扩大选举权的提案；而西部的弗吉尼亚则迫使潮水域地区在1830年修订的宪法中加入一个比较广泛的选举条款，让边疆地区获得与潮水域地区的贵族社会比例相当的代表制。作为国家一股有效力量的民主之兴起，与杰克逊和威廉·亨利·哈里森领导下的西部占优势一起出现，宣告了边疆的胜利——包括它一切优劣因素都在内。在前面提到的弗吉尼亚宪法会议的辩论上，对边疆1830年的民主情况有一个有趣的例证说明。一位来自弗吉尼亚西部的代表说道：

“但是，先生，这位绅士恐惧的不应该是西部人口的增加，而是山地的烈风和西部的习惯赋予西部移民的那种能量。他们获得了新生，先生，我指的是政治上。他们很快成为了劳动的政治家。而先生，一个口头的政治家和一个劳动的政治家，他们之间的差别是巨大的。弗吉尼亚州一直以盛产人才而著名，其中有伟大的演说家，卓越的政策方面的形而上学理论家，以及能够将最深奥的政治经济学问题条分缕析的人。但是，当他们在家里的时候，或者从国会回来的时候，有黑奴打扇伺候他们入睡。但是从宾夕法尼亚、纽约、俄亥俄或者西部弗吉尼亚来的一个政治家，他虽然在逻辑学、形而上学和修辞学上都远逊于来自旧弗吉尼亚的政治家，却有这样一个优势，那就是，一回到家，他会脱掉外套，拿起锄头。而先生，这给了他骨头和肌肉，让他保持了他的共和主义原则的纯洁性。”

只要自由土地存在，发挥能力的机会就存在，而经济实力决定了政治实力。但是这种从自由土地产生的民主，打上了深刻的自私自利和个人主义的烙印，不见容于行政经验和教育，使个体自由脱离了合理的范畴，这种民主既有其利，也有其弊。美国的个人主义导致政治事务上的松懈，这使得政党分肥制[42]和所有由于缺乏高度发展的公民精神而造成的明显罪恶成为可能。在这方面也可以看到边疆环境对商业信用缺乏、滥发纸币和骗人银行产生的怂恿性影响。货币的许多最坏的样式就是从殖民地时期的边疆和革命时期的边疆产生的。1812年战争时期的西部重现了那个时期边疆出现的现象，1837年危机时期出现的投机倒把和骗人银行，在西部新州的新边疆地带也出现了。所以，财政制度不完善的每一个时期，都与新一轮边疆社会出现的时期相吻合，并大都发生在边疆相继开拓出来的地区。最近发生的平民党[43]运动就是一个例子。许多州现在都拒绝与平民党的主张发生联系，但却坚持平民党在早期发展阶段的那些思想。我们不能期待原始社会理解发达社会中商业利益的复杂性。这些地区的不断出现的纸币风潮事件是另一个例子，证明边疆可以作为美国历史上一个最重要的因素单独加以研究[44]。

东部一直都对边疆无序推进所产生的后果感到担忧，并试图抑制和引导它。英国政府曾企图将移民运动控制在大西洋支流的上游，允许“野蛮人安静地享受他们的沙漠，以免皮毛贸易衰落。”对此伯克有以下一段精彩的抗议：

“如果政府不再赠与土地，后果是什么呢？移民将自行占领土地，他们在很多地方已经这么做了。你不可能在沙漠的各个地方都派部队驻防。如果你把人们从一个地方赶走，他们会赶着牛羊迁到另一个地方，继续年复一年的耕作。边疆地带的许多人已经不再留恋个别的地点。他们已经越过了阿巴拉契亚山脉。从山上望去，在他们眼前伸展开来的是一望无垠的平原，和广阔、丰美、平坦的草地；这是一个500英里见方的广场。他们会在这片土地上无拘无束地游荡，改变原来的生活方式和生活习惯，并很快忘掉那个抛弃他们的政府，变成像英国鞑靼人那样的部落；他们像一队勇猛的不可阻挡的骑兵般蜂拥而至，来到你们未设防的边疆，将你们的总督、参事、税吏和监督以及隶属于他们的所有奴隶控制在自己手中。这将是企图把上天‘增加并繁衍’的旨意作为罪恶行径进行镇压在不久以后会产生的影响；这就是硬要将上帝明文赐给人类儿女的土地作为野兽巢穴将会带来的可喜结果。”

然而，想要抑制边疆推进并引导其命运的，并不只是英国政府。弗吉尼亚的潮水域地区和南卡罗来纳州也不公正地对殖民地选区重新划分，以使海岸选区在议会中占优势。华盛顿要求西北地区的移民一次拓殖一个州；杰斐逊希望把他购买的路易斯安那州北纬32度的地域保留下来，用来和印第安人交换他们在密西西比河以东的定居地。“当我们在这一边住满了人，”他写道，“就可以在西岸从上游到下游划分一系列的州，在繁衍人口的同时让每一个州都住满人，这样一个接一个州地来拓殖。”麦迪逊甚至跟法国公使说道，美国看到人口在密西西比河西岸蔓延并不高兴，反而感到恐惧。在1824年辩论俄勒冈问题时，来自弗吉尼亚的史密斯提出在密西西比河以西划一条永不改变的界线，作为美国在东部旧州和西部新州外界的边界，他抱怨说海岸一带诸州因为将太多土地投放市场，其人口精华因为外流而枯竭了。即使是对西部发展有着最深远眼光的汤姆斯·本顿，在他政治生涯的这一阶段也宣称，应该沿着落基山脉“划出美国西部的边界线，让传说中的界标之神忒尔弥努斯的雕像矗立山巅，永远不倒。”但是，划定边界，限制土地买卖和拓殖，以及剥夺西部应享有的政治权利——所有这些企图都是徒劳的。边疆的拓殖依然稳步推进，个人主义、民主主义和民族主义也随之发展，有力地影响了东部和旧世界。

东部对边疆管理做出的最有效的努力，是通过教育活动和宗教活动来进行的，这些又是通过各州之间人口的迁移和有组织的团体来进行的。莱曼·比彻博士[45]在1835年的演讲中说道：“很显然，我们国家的宗教和政治命运都将在西部决定。”他指出，西部的人口“从联邦诸州和欧洲诸国聚集，像洪水一样喷涌而来，他们要求那些训练头脑、启迪心灵的道德捍卫制度立即普遍地建立起来。而他们的观念和习惯千差万别，彼此了解不深，西部的定居点又分散，因此无法形成一种共同情感来立即按照法定程序建立起一套必需制度。但是人们都刻不容缓地需要这些制度，而且是最完善和有效力的制度。一个国家在‘一天内诞生出来’……但如果西部的发展很快达到气势煊赫的地步，而那些对人们思想和良心的形成非常必要的制度迟迟未能建立，西部会是什么样子呢。决不能允许这种情况发生……不管西部变成什么样子，东部的每一个人都不应觉得平安无事，并梦想独立自主……因为她的命运就是我们的命运。”

比彻博士在呼吁新英格兰拿出良心的同时，还提醒了一个使之恐惧的情况，即其他教派会走在新英格兰教会的前面。于是，新英格兰的传道者和学校教师在西部留下了足迹。新英格兰一方面害怕西部会脱离她的政治和经济控制，另一方面也同样害怕西部会脱离她的宗教。1850年，《国内布道》杂志的编辑在评论一篇报道移民快速深入威斯康星州以北的文章时，写道：“对于移民的深入我们不知道是该高兴还是悲伤。虽然我们支持一切使我们国家的物质资源和财富增加的活动，但我们不能忘记，随着移民向偏远地区的日益深入，主的恩惠的影响也相对越来越小了。”正是基于这种观念，国内布道会和西部的高等院校建立起来了。正如海滨诸城市（如费城、纽约和巴尔的摩）都极力想掌控西部的贸易一样，各个教派也在争夺对西部的控制权。就这样，从新英格兰来的一道文化河流灌溉了西部的土地，使其日益丰饶起来。其他地区也派来了他们的传教士，但是真正的斗争发生在各个教派之间。边疆的流动性让各教派不断争夺权力、扩张地盘，这一定对美国宗教组织的特征产生了重要影响。边疆小镇上敌对教派如雨后春笋般出现，这造成的社会影响是深远的。边疆的宗教特征也因此成为我国历史上需要加以研究的一章。

从边疆的生活方式中，产生了有着重大意义的文化特征。从殖民地时期以来，到各边疆旅行的人撰写的著作中，描述了某些共同特征，虽然它们现在不突出了，但是作为一种遗风，即使在发展到更高级的社会阶段后，仍然在它们的发端地继续存在。结果是，美国思想的显著特征都要归于边疆。精明、好奇加上粗犷、坚强的性格；讲究实际、有创造性和善于随机应变的头脑；对物质财富的敏锐嗅觉，虽然缺乏艺术性，但对目标一击即中；不知满足的、精力充沛的能量；强烈的个人主义倾向，为善为恶全力以赴；以及与自由相伴而生的乐观和热情——这些是边疆的特征，或者说是由于边疆的存在，别的地方才有的特性。从哥伦布的舰队驶进新英格兰的水域时起，美国就是机会的代名词，美国人从这种不断扩张中获得了自己的特性，这种扩张不仅是自由的，而且甚至是强加于他们的。如果有谁宣称美国人的扩张特性现在已经完全消亡，他一定是个轻率的预言家。边疆的扩张曾经是这种扩张的有力事实，除非这种训练对一个民族没有影响，否则美国人会继续要求一个更广阔的发挥天地。但是自由土地这种礼物他们是不会再得到了。在边疆，习俗的纽带暂时中断了，毫无节制的情形占了上风。那里没有“纯净的心灵”（tabula rasa）[46]。美国的环境让人难以应付，它傲慢地要求人们适应它；那里的做事方式也一直传承下来；然而，虽然环境如此，习惯如此，每个边疆都提供了一片充满机会的天地，一扇逃离历史束缚的门，伴随边疆而生的是一种新鲜感，一种自信，人们可以蔑视旧社会，厌恶它的束缚和思想，漠视它提供的经验。地中海之于希腊人，是中断了习俗的纽带，提供了新的经验，引起了新的制度和特殊活动的产生，而边疆的开拓之于美国，之于更遥远的欧洲诸国，则更是如此。而在发现美洲大陆后四个世纪和宪法公布后一百年的今天，边疆消失了，美国历史的第一个时期也随之拉上了帷幕。

————————————————————

[1] 卡尔霍恩（John C. Calhoun, 1782-1850）：19世纪上半叶美国南卡罗来纳州卓越的政治家和政治理论家。——译者注

[2] 赫尔曼·冯·霍斯特（Herman Eduard von Holst, 1841-1904）：德裔美国历史学家，著有《美国制宪史》（Constitutional History of America）。——译者注

[3] 瀑布线（fall line）：美国大西洋沿岸平原借助阿巴拉契亚山脉流下来的河道短而水量充足的河流进行排水，当这些河流穿过皮德蒙特时，形成了“瀑布线”，被用来发电。——译者注

[4] 潮水域地区（tidewater region）：指南部殖民地包括弗吉尼亚和南、北卡罗来纳。沿海岸线广阔的平原地带，海湾曲折，空气湿润，土壤肥沃，潮水不时冲洗，故名。——译者注

[5] 蓝岭（Blue Ridge）：美国东部阿巴拉契亚山脉的一部分。——译者注

[6] 法耳次（Palatine）：德意志联邦共和国西南部一地区。——译者注

[7] 新英格兰：美国东北部六州，包括康涅狄格州、马萨诸塞州、罗德岛、佛蒙特州、新罕布什尔州、缅因州。——译者注

[8] 印第安准州（Indiana Territory）：19世纪初期美国政府强迫印第安人定居的区域，在今俄克拉何马州。——译者注

[9] 大草原（Great Plains）：位于加拿大中西部，向南与美国境内的山麓高原连成一片。——译者注

[10] 政府赠与地（land grant）：指政府无偿赠与公路、铁路、农业院校、州立大学等使用的土地。——译者注

[11] 远西地区（Far West）：现指落基山至太平洋沿岸的地区；历史上曾指今美国的中西部，尤指美国密西西比河以西的地区。——译者注

[12] 阿美利哥·维斯普奇（Amerigo Vespuccius, 1454-1512）：意大利商人和航海家，确认新发现的大西洋以西的陆地不是亚洲部分而是一个新大陆，后以其命名为America。——译者注

[13] 韦拉扎诺（Giovanni da Verrazano, 1485-1528）：意大利航海家、探险家，发现纽约湾、纳拉甘西特湾［1524］的第一个欧洲人，在最后一次航行［1528］中到达瓜法罗普岛，被土人杀死并吃掉。——译者注

[14] 亨利·哈得孙（Henry Hudson, 1565-1611）：英国航海家、探险家，四次远航探寻通过北冰洋到达亚洲的航道，因船员叛乱，被置一小船上漂流失踪，今哈得孙河、哈得孙湾等均以其姓氏命名。——译者注

[15] 约翰·史密斯（John Smith, 1580-1631）：英国探险家，北美弗吉尼亚州詹姆斯敦殖民地主要创建者，后任殖民地总督［1608］，曾航行到新英格兰［1614］，著有《新英格兰记》等。——译者注

[16] 刘易斯和克拉克：美国陆军的梅里韦瑟·刘易斯上尉（Meriwether Lewis）和威廉·克拉克少尉（William Clark），由他们做领队进行了美国国内首次横越大陆西抵太平洋沿岸的往返考察活动。该活动是由杰斐逊总统发起。——译者注

[17] 弗里蒙特（John Charles Fremont, 1813-1890）：美国西部探险家，绘制中西部地图，征服并开发加利福尼亚，为淘金富翁，反奴主义者，曾被新共和党题名为总统候选人［1856］。——译者注

[18] 彼德维尔（John Bidwell, 1819-1900）：美国边疆拓殖者，于1848年在加利福尼亚萨克拉门托河支流费瑟河发现金矿，并在契科城建立牲畜农场。——译者注

[19] 拉萨勒（La Salle）：法国探险家。——译者注

[20] 迪凯纳（Abraham Duquesne, 1610-1688）：法国海军军官，曾任瑞典海军上将，回法国后忠于王室，曾两次击败西班牙、荷兰联合舰队。——译者注

[21] 六族联盟（Six Nations）：北美印第安人五个部落和塔斯卡洛拉部落的联盟。——译者注

[22] 1812年战争（1812年6月—1815年2月）：美国对1812年战争有多项目标：保护商船的安全，使其不受英法海军袭扰；抢夺英国的加拿大殖民地；阻止印第安人在英国支持下袭扰西部边境；另外，再次重创英国人。——译者注

[23] 韦伯斯特（Daniel Webster, 1782-1852）：曾在哈利孙内阁任国务卿。其政治主张，拥护克莱的“美国制”，热烈捍卫新的保护关税法；倡导“维护联邦”反对分裂，但不愿意南部废除奴隶制。——译者注

[24] 丹尼尔·布恩（Daniel Boone, 1734-1820）：美国开拓者，传奇式人物，对肯塔基州和坎伯兰隘口通道的开辟作出贡献。——译者注

[25] 基特·卡森（Kit Carson, 1809-1868）：美国边疆猎人，为开发西部效力，在美墨战争中为美军当向导，后任科罗拉多领地印第安人事务总督。——译者注

[26] 先购权：（通过抢先占用等取得的）公共土地优先购买权。——译者注

[27] 黄金国（Eldorado）：（早期西班牙探险家想象中在南美洲的）黄金国（或城）。——译者注

[28] 旧世界（Old World）：指东半球（即欧洲、亚洲、非洲、澳洲，尤指欧洲）。——译者注

[29] 德裔宾州人（Pennsylvania Dutch）：指17-18世纪移居美国宾夕法尼亚州的德国和瑞士人后裔。——译者注

[30] 无票乘船赴美移民（redemptioner）：指18-19世纪由欧赴美后做一定时间仆役以偿还赴美船资的移民。——译者注

[31] 克莱（Henry Clay, 1777-1852）：美国政论家，辉格党领袖，主张建立“美国制度”，曾任国务卿［1825-1829］，参议员［1831-1842］，领导反对派与杰克逊政府进行斗争。——译者注

[32] 此指殖民地时期，东北部马萨诸塞诸州，疆域已划定，没有临近的边疆土地，而弗吉尼亚、卡罗来纳、宾夕法尼亚诸州，西部临近边疆土地，常视为是本州的土地。这两大地区除了反对英国统治者具有共同利益外，彼此间也有矛盾。——译者注

[33] 汤姆斯·本顿（Thomas Hart Benton, 1782-1858）：美国国会参议员，民主党的主要发言人，反对奴隶制，支持开发西部，主张将公共土地分配给开拓者。——译者注

[34] 辉格党（Whig party）：共和党的前身。——译者注

[35] 门罗（James Monroe）：美国第五任总统［1817-1825］，曾任弗吉尼亚州州长，国务卿，在总统国情咨文中提出门罗主义外交政策。——译者注

[36] 安德鲁·杰克逊（Andrew Jackson, 1767-1845）：美国第七任总统［1829-1837］，第二次反英战争时的将军，保卫新奥尔良城，击败英军［1815］。——译者注

[37] 哈里森（William Henry Harrison, 1773-1841）：美国第九任总统，曾任印第安准州州长，历任美国众议员、参议员，就任总统仅一个月即病逝。——译者注

[38] 中部诸州（Middle States）：美国中部诸州，指纽约、新泽西、宾夕法尼亚、特拉华和马里兰。——译者注

[39] 河流之父（Father of Waters）：即密西西比河。——译者注

[40] 邦联时期（confederacy）：1860年至1861年南北战争时南部11州组成的南部邦联。——译者注

[41] 联邦（Union）：（美国南北战争期间）支持联邦政府的各州。——译者注

[42] 政党分肥制（spoils system）：指将公职委派给获胜政党支持者的制度。——译者注

[43] 平民党（Populists）：19世纪后期美国中西部和南部农业改革者的政治联盟，主张自由铸造金银币增加通货、实行分级课税制、铁路国有化等。——译者注

[44] 我没有对边疆社会的无序细加阐述，因为人们对此知道得够多了。赌徒和亡命徒，北卡罗来纳的选举监视人和加利福尼亚的义务治安警员，这类社会渣滓是西进的文明浪潮带来的泡沫，他们也是在没有合法的政府机构的情况下自发产生的政府机构。边疆环境孕育的幽默、勇气和粗暴力量，以及各种弱点，都在美国人的性格、语言和文学上留下了痕迹，这种影响在短时期内是无法消除的。

[45] 菜曼·比彻（Lyman Beecher, 1775-1863），美国牧师和禁酒运动领导人。他是最主要的传道人之一和内战前的信仰复兴运动者。比彻出生在康涅狄格州的纽黑文，毕业于耶鲁大学。他在1799-1810年间任长岛东汉普顿基督教长老会牧师，1810-1826年间为康涅狄格州利奇费尔德公理教会牧师。1826年，比彻成为波士顿汉诺瓦街公理教会牧师。在这里，他护卫正统基督教，反对一神论，批评罗马天主教。1832年，他作为雷恩神学院院长、神学教授去往俄亥俄州的辛辛那提。1850年退休。——译者注

[46] ［拉丁语］白板（指人出生时未受外界和自身经验影响的纯净的心灵）。——译者注

二

西部问题（1896）

西部问题不仅仅是西部的问题，而是有关美国发展的问题。美国地图一目了然地揭示了这一点。针对阿利根尼山脉以西地区大书特书“西部地域主义”，这本身就表明了作者的褊狭。哪里是西部？西部对美国人生活有什么影响？要回答这些问题，必须了解当今美国最重要的特征。

西部，从根本上讲，是一种社会形态，而不是一个区域。自由土地受旧制度、旧思想冲击而发生根本改变，形成特定的社会条件，即称为“社会”。冲击之下，新的环境骤然形成，大开机遇之门，旧风俗、旧习惯遭到破除，新的活动、发展道路、机制、理想如雨后春笋般涌现。荒原消失了，“西部”疆界向西推进。在旧西部的土地上，新社会应运而生，与荒蛮远离，逐步演进，渐渐丧失其原始特征，与东部更为成熟的社会条件同化、融合；但经开疆拓土锤炼的历史遗风则历久弥新、不拘一格。年复一年，西部西进，美国社会一次又一次得到重生，留下了深深的历史印记，并且对美国东部也产生了深远影响。我们的政治体制，我们的民主，一切都不是简单的模仿借鉴；这是一部社会机构面对环境变化而不断演变和适应的历史，一部有关新政体渊源的历史。因此，在这个意义上，西部一直是一种对我们的生活具有重要意义的建设性力量。用思维敏捷、广闻博见的观察员布赖斯先生的话说，那就是，“‘西部’是美国最‘美国’的部分……西部各州和领土之于大西洋沿岸各州，就像欧洲之于亚洲，美国之于英格兰一样。”

西部，作为社会组织的一个阶段，始于大西洋沿岸，横跨北美大陆。但殖民浪潮席卷的区域与“旧世界”有着千丝万缕的联系，于是很快便失去了西部特征。18世纪中叶，大西洋北岸出现了新型社会形态。在这种社会形态下，西部本身特征鲜明，后来又将其边疆特征和理念传播给了当地。海边到处是渔民、船员、商人和种植园主，这些人都把目光投向了欧洲。在河流瀑布的另一边是拓荒的农民，他们基本上都不讲英语，大多有苏格兰-爱尔兰血统或日耳曼血统。他们形成了一个独特的民族，并且可能是中部社会和经济生活向南部的延伸。这些边疆居民就是布恩、安德鲁·杰克逊、卡尔霍恩、克雷和林肯的祖先。华盛顿和杰斐逊也深受边疆环境的影响。那些林间空地就是美国人性格形成的温床。

革命年代，开拓者越过阿利根尼山脉，利用这一天然屏障，将自己与海边隔离开来。用他们的话说，他们成了“西水之子”、“西界之后”。这一时期，阿利根尼山西边的林区居民非常敏感地认识到自己与沿海居民的不同，要求在联盟下成立独立的州。他们的理想是自治，他们淳朴而强烈的建州请愿之一是：“一些同胞可能认为我们不能管好自己的事务、维护好自己的利益；但是，在一个未开化的社会，满足我们的需求并不需要太多智慧。有时候，傻瓜自己就能把衣服穿得比聪明人帮他穿得更好。”这一丛林理论就是美国民主理论的雏形。但沿海地区绅士们却不承认这一理论。如果他们控制着州立法机构，海边的少数有产者就能在投票选举中战胜多数内陆人。这与1787年联邦政府拥护者在制宪会议中提出的体制类似。古维诺尔·莫里斯[1]力主基于财产和人数的代表权，他还宣称期待西部成立一系列新的州。他认为，应该由此确立代表权规则，从而确保大西洋各州在全国议会中的优势地位。他说，新的州不如内陆那些州了解公众利益；但新的州会有不同视角；不会轻易卷入战争，毕竟战争的负担和费用都要由沿海各州承担。因此，应该做出规定，避免以后新的州得票多于海边各州。他补充道，西部乡村“不可能像东部一样为维护共同利益提供优秀的人才。政治人才的摇篮在人群密集的地方，而不是偏远的蛮荒之地。一旦西部人得到权力，大西洋沿岸各州的利益就会受到威胁。内陆各州总是不愿意接受最好的方案。”众议院讨论是否接纳路易斯安那州加入联邦时，马萨诸塞州的约塞亚·昆西[2]接着古维诺尔·莫里斯的话，对此提出了强烈抗议。对于制宪会议有关奴隶投票权和西部问题的讨论，他宣称：“如果这样，那么可以清楚预见，除这部分影响之外，密西西比河以西的人会涌向东部。制定法律时，立法机构的另一分支主宰着我们的权利，决定着我们的命运。先生，想想吧，到那时，如果爱国人士听到了今天的讨论，哪怕只是只言片语，又会怎么样呢？……他们可不是在疯人院获得文凭的……我听说已经有六个州了，有人说，不久还会有更多。我还听说，俄亥俄边界离规划的帝国中心东边很远……你们无权将这些人的权利和财产与密苏里的野人们混为一谈；也不能跟躺在密西西比河岸沙滩晒太阳的英裔-西班牙裔-法裔-美国人混为一谈，尽管这是一个更高贵的种族……你认为北部和大西洋沿岸各州的人们会，或者应该耐心地袖手旁观，眼看着红河和密苏里的议员和参议员涌向这片土地，来管理离他们自己家十万八千里的海岸吗？会让他们主宰着自己根据宪法可能永远也无法进入的议会吗？”

东部18世纪末表现的恐惧在19世纪末引起了共鸣，共鸣来自东部一位著名的学者。这位学者警告西部人说：“他们本身属于物质主义，几乎没什么崇高的理想，对历史知之甚少，从未直接接触过灾害和战争恐怖，缺乏想象力和同情心。不幸的是，这些人构成了一个群体，享有很多权利，却没有相应的责任意识，这是危险的。他们很容易对战争狂热，认为战争是缔造英雄的契机，是实现野心的手段……星星之火可能形成燎原之势。”

在19世纪初和19世纪末，对于新英格兰的思想领袖而言，这就是西部问题。从一开始，人们就认识到，在沿海地区之外，一个新型社会正在崛起，而且有朝一日，这个国家的命运迟早会掌握在西部人手里。在批准联邦宪法的问题上，东西部社会的分歧变得明显起来。内陆农业地区中那些需要纸币的负债社区，除西部几个之外，都反对宪法；但商业区的意见最终占了上风。

因此，我们必须了解早期西部的这种民主理想，以及拓荒者与海岸居民的区别。

“西水之子”最突出的情况就是其所受的影响，这种影响对诸多文明成果具有破坏作用。他们没有机会接受系统教育，远离尘嚣，居林间木屋，备尝艰辛，而返璞归真。他们奋力拼搏，想要降服林莽，单打独斗，几乎身无分文，却与负债阶层同呼吸、共命运。西部在各个发展阶段都主张扩充货币。西部开拓者对社会充满信心，对西部开发孤注一掷，为了建立家园，他们坚持与野蛮人斗争，所以一旦出现经济紧缩和萧条，就往往会批评保守人群和阶层。要理解这种对立关系，仅仅谴责西部人的狡诈、无知、粗野，认为这是西部人的根本特性，都是管中窥豹。美国需要针对两种不同的社会状况立法。从过去到现在，一些地区一直在积聚财富，既得权利情况突出；而其他地区却缺乏资本，普遍处于原始状况，存在各种经济和社会理想，人们普遍安于现状的情况突出。很难说政府在处理这两种理想的矛盾时总能一碗水端平。

西部人远离海岸，拜环境所赐，他们在很大程度上摆脱了欧洲的种种成规和传统势力。他们能够以独立的眼光看问题，对欧洲大陆的优良传统不屑一顾。他们无意于造就一个达观而兼收并蓄的民族。当然，这样的民族确实能够通过“和外国人交流，了解外国人观点，乐于接受外国思想和风俗习惯中一切最优秀、最适宜的成分”，从而推进文明的发展。他们的理想是保存和发展这个新生国家特有而珍贵的东西。旧的社会来到了自由土地上，这对它来说意味着有机会创造一种新型的民主，以及为大众所接受的新理想。西部并不保守，恰恰相反，乐观自信、富有主见是西部人的最大特点。透过西部发展，我们看到的是一种新的社会秩序和形态，而其中善恶并存。

然而，这种新型社会的根本在于其与土地的关系。布特米教授曾这样评价美国：“他们唯一而首要的目的，就是开垦这些草原、森林和广袤的荒野，并在那里定居。美国社会突出而不寻常的特点就是，它更像一个公司，而不仅仅是一个民主社会，它的宗旨是发现和开垦广阔的国土，然后将其资本化。美国首先是一个商业社会，其次才是一个国家。”当然，这里存在严重的误解。其实，正是在实现这一宗旨的过程中，种种影响深远的国家和社会理想才在西部得到升华，同时还伴随着代表这些理想的爱国思想。但是，布特米毕竟抓住了问题的本质，那就是，内陆人的根本特性源于西部那片自由的土地。正是因为具有这些特性，他们才会专注于征服文明的伟大事业，专注于在推动新的民主社会过程中提高自己的社会经济地位。艺术、文学、修养、科学管理等，一切都要让位于这项伟大事业。精力充沛、忙忙碌碌成了新美国人的宿命。安德鲁·杰克逊时代有一位旅行家说过：“美国就像一个大车间，门上大书特书：非公莫入。”而当代的西部让布莱斯先生想到“瓦戴克在魔王大殿里看到的人群，人人都在东奔西跑，步履匆匆，神色不宁，心急如焚。他们疲于奔命，对任何结果都不满意”。

自由土地，加上掌握自己命运的意识，让西部人对物质利益孜孜以求，终日躁动不安。他们提倡西部移民应人人平等，抑制东部贵族习气的影响。当然，如果人人都能有个农场，而且几乎唾手可得，那么很容易带来经济上的平等，从而带来政治上的平等。要让西部人放弃这种理想，他们不会善罢甘休，这就是当今西部偏远地区发生骚动的原因。

西部民主不仅包括平等，还包括个人自由。拓荒者对束缚手脚的东西很不耐烦。即便没有法律权威，他们也知道如何维持秩序。如果有人偷了牛，采用私刑处死干脆利落，十分奏效：卡罗来纳州的“监管员”是爱荷华州“索赔协会”和加州“治安维持会”的前身。但是，西部人不愿服从繁文褥节。那里人口稀少，不像过去的定居点那样，一大群人挤在一起，会产生利益冲突，所以需要相应的制度来约束个人。社会原子化了，重新产生了关于法律人格的原始观念，犯罪首先不是犯法，而是对受害者的侵害。边界人民的理想是以最直接的方式伸张正义。精细的辨析以及对方法的顾忌，都让他们颇不耐烦。只要事情正当，那么最直接、最简单、最有效的方式就是最好的方式。

由于缺乏有组织的政治生活，由于边疆社会的与世隔绝，这里的每个人都有些妄自尊大、为所欲为。西部就是机遇的代名词。这里矿藏丰富、山谷肥沃，可以肆意抢占，是智者、勇者的天下。个人不受旧社会秩序约束，也不受政府科学管理的限制，可以放开手脚大干一番，这是美国独一无二的特色。白手起家而奋斗成功，是西部人的理想，是所有人学习的榜样。历经荒野生活，面临自由机遇，西部人找到了复兴社会的办法——个人自我奋斗的自由。他们不认为自己的社会条件特殊而短暂。

在这种情况下，很容易产生领导——领导力源自具备有益于这个年轻社会的各种素质。在西部殖民的历史上，每个堡垒村庄都有自己的英雄。西部英雄上升为民族英雄的典型代表有克雷、杰克逊、哈里逊、林肯。

西部人相信，国家国运昭彰、不容阻挡。在边疆妨碍其前进的，有印第安人、西班牙人、英国人。东部人态度冷漠，不赞同西部人有关自己与这些民族之间关系的看法，采取的政策鼠目寸光，这让西部人感到恼火。西班牙人封锁了密西西比河，还有人建议放弃在这条河上的自由通航权，以换取对新英格兰有利的商业优势——这差点让西部脱离联邦。正是西部人的要求，促使美国购买了路易斯安那，扭转了局面，转向支持1812年对英之战。面对满怀敌意的印第安人和千古荒野，西部人连年扩大定居范围，推崇尚武精神。西部人认为美国必将称雄美洲大陆。在亨利·亚当斯[3]撰写的《美国史》中写道，1800年的美国对来访的外国人大发感慨：“看我多么富有！看看这堆积如山的盐和金银铜铁！看看星罗棋布的壮丽城市，一直延伸到了太平洋边上！看我的玉米地，在夏日的和风中沙沙歌唱，连绵起伏，从东海岸一直到西海岸，如此广阔。金色海洋尽头，远山迢迢，连太阳都照不到边。看看这片大陆，这是世上最美的土地，阳光普照着她宽广而富饶的胸怀，她用甘甜乳汁哺育着上亿儿女。”可外国人看到的，却只有凄凉的沙漠，零星住着疟疾缠身的拓荒者和野蛮人。所谓城市，也只是木屋和赌穴。但拓荒者梦想的是未来。早期的西部人虽然粗俗无礼，却是理想主义者，心怀梦想，目光远大。他们心怀信任，渴望民主，相信天造美国，对实现梦想有着无限自信。1834年，哈里特·马蒂诺[4]说：“我认为美国人民是刚具雏形的伟大诗人，时而忧郁，时而狂放，却拥有绝对的理智：行动狂躁而任性，却内心沉静；他们兴高采烈，认为自己深谙历史真谛，看到了美好未来，可以缔造世界做梦都想不到的宏伟事业，热切希望建立一个抱有信念的国家。”

我们一定要谨记西部的这种理想主义。西部人常被指责为太过物质主义，其实他们也有着追求平等、崇尚平凡大众和扩张领土的理想，所以，如果把西部说成物欲横流，那就大错特错了。西部始终是一片理想的土地，不管这些理想是对还是错。

显然，这些经济条件和社会条件是西部生活的根本，所以，那些移民，无论来自东海岸，还是来自欧洲，都很可能被同化。然而，要了解西部，就必须记住，西部有来自北方、南方的大批移民，密西西比河让这些人融合在一起。正因为这样，促进统一的思想才第一次压倒了地域主义。最终，各个旧的群体相互矛盾的思想和制度在这里争夺主导地位，而影响这一过程的各种势力都在为统一而奋斗，但这只不过再一次验证了这样一个真理：分久必合。西部必将统一，各群体不可能长久分裂。这正是斗争的原因所在。从革命到1812年战争结束，南方和中部各州的民主制度造就了定居点的思想主流，形成了对西部的社会影响。即使在俄亥俄州，新英格兰的领袖很快丧失了政权。中部地区的民主精神给摇篮里的西部留下了不可磨灭的印记。1812年战争之后，新英格兰失去了世界贸易的主导权，变成了一座蜂巢，成群的移民从中飞出，扑向西部的纽约，甚至更加偏远的地区。

这些移民传播了新英格兰的教育理念、品格和政治制度，成为西北地区重要的潜在势力。但如果认为西北地区完全处于新英格兰影响之下，那就大错特错了。这些开拓者并不属于保留纯粹新英格兰文明的阶层。他们代表着不那么满足于现状，也不那么保守的势力。此外，他们在中部地区短暂逗留以后，继续向西进发。在此过程中，他们也逐渐发生了变化，当他们真正抵达西部后，已经今非昔比了。被西部同化的新英格兰人再也不能代表其原本所属的阶层。他不再那么保守，不再那么狭隘，适应能力更强，更加容易亲近，不再那么坚守清教徒的理想，不再那么具有文化气质，更像雷厉风行的猛士。

所以，可以想见，在“感觉良好的时代”，在整个密西西比河流域，西部人变成了一个比较统一的群体，而且开始代表一种新的民族性格。在亨利·克雷的领导下，他们恳请政府通过内部改良克服山岳屏障，让他们的作物能够运输到东海岸去，而且呼吁政府设立保护性关税，以建立国内市场。几个边疆地区的州加入联邦时，提出了民主选举权的条件，而且对国家忠心耿耿，因为国家给了他们土地，为他们修了公路和运河，规范了他们的边界，让他们和其他州平起平坐。最终，西部这种敢作敢为的民族主义和民主精神主宰了政府，最具代表性的化身就是安德鲁·杰克逊。这种新型民主在美国得到广泛承认，破坏了传统政治家的理想，它可不是哪个理论家在德国森林里产生的梦想，而是诞生于美国森林，粗犷、强悍，充满生机。但是，西部民主的胜利也表明，民主可聚东海岸劳工阶层之力来助自己一臂之力，这个阶层当时刚刚开始具有自我意识和组织性。

西部发展的下一个阶段反映了西部的南北分歧。奴隶制和大种植园随着棉花种植面积的扩大而不断发展。住着小木屋、种植着各种庄稼的小农不见了，取而代之的是棉花种植园主。除山区之外，沿海工业组织占领了西南部，边远地区的统一遭到破坏，南方形成了统一局面。在西北部，这是修铁路、挖运河的时代，于是越来越多的人从中部各州和新英格兰地区前来定居，而且反对奴隶制的思想得以强化。打开地图，新英格兰人祖先在西部定居的地方，恰好是自由土壤党投票最多的县。同样，铁路大大改变了西北地区与外界的商业联系，其结果正如一位作者于1852年在《狄波评论》上发表的文章所言：

“如今的新奥尔良变成什么样子了？她追求的伟大和辉煌的梦想哪里去了？……在她沉睡时，敌人在她最高产的土地上播下了稗子。这个敌人精力充沛，有进取心，又不屈不挠，通过大胆、有力、持续的努力，已经成功打破了自然规律，让密西西比河及其上千支流的汹涌河水倒流了，这样一来，其河口上溯到了纽约或波士顿，而不在新奥尔良，不论从实际角度还是商业角度来看，都是如此。”

西部发生了分裂，一场重大的斗争拉开了帷幕，斗争的焦点就是密西西比河以西地区应该采取何种社会制度。南北战争中，西北部出现了民族英雄林肯——边疆磨砺和理想的奇葩，他将政府权力牢牢攥在了手上。战争结束前，出自西部的有总统、副总统、首席大法官、众议院议长、财政部部长、邮政总长、司法部部长、陆军五星上将、海军上将。内战的主要将领都出自西部。西部注重行动，所以在危机中主持了大局。

民族战争的胜利，开启了西部开发的新纪元。国家军队遍布草原和平原。政府贷款和政府批地，扶持了铁路修建工程，打开了西部定居之路，大批欧洲移民和来自联邦各群体不安分的开拓者，都来到了政府的土地上。美国军队打退了印第安人，联邦政府将长方形的领土切割成了棋盘状的各个州，没什么历史依据，也没考虑地形学的统一，也不存在各地自主的思想。后来的拓荒者依靠的是强大的国家力量。

与此同时，南方也经历了一场革命。以奴隶制为基础，种植园为农场所取代，士绅阶层让位于民主人士。就像在西部一样，新兴采矿业和制造业如雨后春笋般地发展起来。新南方像新西部一样，是一个建设中的地区，负债累累，动荡不安，同时，也学会了如何运用联邦立法。

与此同时，旧西北经历了一次社会经济转型。整个西部地区已经历了一波又一波的经济发展。威斯康星州如今就像纽约州的一部分，早期却很像今天的内布拉斯加州；格兰其运动[5]和绿背党[6]一度占据了统治地位；该州北部各县人口较为稀少，而且不断有外来人口落户，当地人仍然与负债阶层站在一边。所以，在旧西北地区，过去边疆时代的遗风仍然存在，传承下来的思维方式基本上源自拓荒时代。同时，这个地区在很多方面已经被东部同化了，因此对东西部都很了解。但他们不满意一些财富积聚、组织强大的群体推行的经济社会秩序；似乎也并不认为应该支持草原方案和南方。在第五十三届国会上，西北地区投票赞成征收所得税，却反对自由铸币。那里颇具影响的思想仍然是通过自我奋斗取得成功，而不是工业化民族主义。这更具美国特色，但国际化程度不如沿海地区。

我们现在在一定程度上清楚了西部问题的一些因素。在近三百年的时间里，美国生活的主要特征就是扩张。直到有人定居太平洋沿岸、占据自由土地，扩张运动才告一段落。如果据此预言扩张的野心不再，则未免过于草率；人们要求采取强有力的外交政策，要求开凿横跨美洲大陆的运河，要求恢复美国的海上力量，要求扩大美国对偏远岛屿及邻国的影响力——这些都表明，扩张运动还会继续。此种态度最坚决的地区是阿利根尼山脉以西。

在较偏远的西部地区，躁动的移民浪潮扑向干燥的平原，然后戛然而止。自由土地没有了，横跨大陆的使命已经完成，所有进取心和能量都转向骚动。一个地方的失败再也无法通过在新的边疆占领土地来补偿；社会突然安定下来，人们迷茫了。西部建设依靠的是借入资本。债务累累的西部对其所面临的工业状况极为不满，尖锐地提出了黄金作为延期付款标准的稳定性问题，边疆式的直接与苛刻在寻求解决之道时让问题再度升级。密西西比河以西的西部建设者，如今又在领导这一运动。他们大多是来自旧西北的开拓者。他们来的时候，旧西北的边疆时代正趋终结。例如，最近一次全国平民党大会主席、内布拉斯加州的艾伦参议员就是其所属阶层政治领袖的代表。他于19世纪中期生于俄亥俄州，青年时期移居爱荷华州，内战后不久定居内布拉斯加州了。童年时代，他见过移民赶水牛的情形，也见过开拓者西进、印第安人节节后退的情形。他接受的是边疆时代旧西部的历练，但如今边疆时代的各种机遇都没有了。出于不满，人们要求政府为民办事。提出这些要求时，他们自然地与东部和南部受压迫的农业阶层和工人阶级站到了一起。西部问题不再是一个阶级派别问题，而是一个全国性的社会问题。从阿利根尼山脉到太平洋，大西部不是铁板一块，需要分地区、分阶层进行分析。但大西部地区的面积、人口和物质资源都表明，如果这个国家存在地域主义，那么也一定是在东部。旧西部与新的南部联合，产生的不是新的地域主义，而是新的美国特色。这种联合不会像有些人认为的那样导致分崩离析，而是对国家政府的强烈肯定，是人民英雄领导的帝国主义扩张。

所以实际情况是这样：一个新的民族逐步形成，个体间物质条件不尽相同，理念和社会利益多样化，甚至相互矛盾。他们经历了这片大陆的拓荒期，如今要自力更生，寻求平衡。多种多样的因素正融合为全民族统一。各种势力重新洗牌，社会动荡不安，国家乱成了一锅粥。

但西部有自己的工业和文化中心，与东部没什么不同。西部也有州立大学，其保守而科学的经济学课程与美国任何地方的大学都可以媲美，而且西部人经常去东部，比东部人到西部频繁得多。随着时间的推移，西部的工业发展会使其逐步与东部融合。

而且，旧西北掌握着权力均衡，旧西北是解决美国发展问题的地方。它与全国各地的共同点之多，超过了其他任何地方。它了解东部，而东部不了解西部。最近在密歇根湖畔崛起的白城就反映了这种不断成长的文化，也彰显了其成就伟大事业的能力。复杂而有代表性的工业组织和商业纽带、坚持西部开发时原创优良传统的决心、乐于吸取其他阶层和国家经验成果的态度，使其成为思想开明、行事稳重的美国命运主宰者。

长远来看，可以相信，“共和国中心”会在相互矛盾的理想中找到理智的平衡点。但是，她不会自欺欺人，她知道西部问题关乎创新社会理想及美国社会调整。

————————————————————

[1] 古维诺尔·莫里斯（Gouverneur Morris），以执笔撰写美国宪法序言著称于世，为美国的自由事业做出了多方面的贡献。——译者注

[2] 约塞亚·昆西（Josiah Quincy），联邦制拥护者，1805年至1813年担任美国众议院少数派领导人，1813年至1820年任职于马萨诸塞州参议院。曾任哈佛大学校长。——译者注

[3] 亨利·亚当斯（Henry Adams, 1838-1918）：美国著名历史学家，先后就读、执教于哈佛大学，曾任美国历史学会主席。——译者注

[4] 哈里特·马蒂诺（Harriet Martineau, 1802-1876）：英国著名社会学家，著有《美国社会》，检验了北美新大陆的宗教、政治、儿童养育和移民等议题。——译者注

[5] 格兰其运动（the Granger movement）：1867年，在上密西西比河谷兴起了自称“耕作保护神”的农民组织，外界称之为“格兰其”。该组织反对垄断、反对中间商的盘剥、以保护农民利益为其宗旨。1873年危机中，农产品价格大幅下降，农民遭受了沉重打击，处境艰难。格兰其把这种状况部分地归咎于铁路的高昂运费，发起了要求制定公平价格的运动，即“格兰其运动”。这一运动得到了当地、甚至东部商人和小企业主的支持。——译者注

[6] 绿背党（Greenback Party）：美国南北战争后主张以政府发行的纸币为唯一通货的政党。——译者注

三

密西西比河谷在美国历史中的意义（1909-1910）

越来越多的学者以同情和批判的眼光看待美国南部及西部的历史，这必将颠覆我们对美国历史的解读。有关美国辽阔的西部以及美国如何应对西方影响的研究工作具有重大意义，我们的东部同行已普遍认识到了这一点。在此，我想援引历史学家艾伯特·布什内尔·哈特教授的话，他十年前曾这样写道：

“密西西比河流域的物产、浪漫色彩以及发展前景堪比世界上任何地方。这里有原野、剧院及西方世界文明的根基——这里是真正的美国。密西西比河谷的历史就是一部美国史；密西西比河谷的未来也将是这个世界强国的未来。”

我们始终坚持认为我们这个地区极为重要，如果说我们是受早期拓荒者精神的感染，醉心于这段引人入胜的历史，从而过分夸大了研究对象的重要性，我们至少可以辩称东方的同行并不比我们更为客观，而西奥多·罗斯福的这段话则更能让我们备感释然：

“我们是全世界有史以来最伟大的国度，在我们所有伟大、富庶且繁荣的诸州之中，围绕在五大湖和密西西比河上游地区的几大州注定是其中最伟大、最富庶、最繁荣的。这些州地处美国中心，且很快将成为人口、政治及社会的中心所在……假如这些州的未来仅仅呈现出一片物质繁荣的景象，我将对此深感遗憾。我认为这片区域是真正的美国情感核心。”

因此，在研究整个密西西比河流域历史的过程中，协会成员也开始研究这片被东方权威视为美国未来最具影响力的地区的起源。他们研究的这片区域与影响整个国家的诸多重大事件密不可分；与密西西比河流域相关的问题，无论是关于人口、外交、政治、经济发展，抑或社会结构，都是关乎国计民生的根本问题。协会的职责不是由狭隘利益——甚至任何地方利益——来确定的。它不只研究该区域和广袤的土地及伟大的帝国资源对美国人的影响。密西西比河谷的命运将决定整个社会的命运，并将在美利坚合众国的历史中留下浓墨重彩的一笔。

从广义及地理学家和历史学家的角度来看，密西西比河谷包括整个美国内陆盆地，这里的所有河流最终都汇入近2000英里的密西西比河，近2000英里的密苏里河，以及近1000英里的俄亥俄河——这5000英里的水域均可通航。这片方圆250万平方英里的流域，面积比整个欧洲（不包括俄罗斯、挪威和瑞典）还大。这片土地海拔高低不一，但地理构造却基本一致；据估算这里能养活两至三亿人口，这是美国现有人口的三倍；这片土地是一座自然资源的宝库，我们应当在此建立一个良好的社会结构，使之成为整个美国工业、政治及精神生活的中心。

密西西比河谷对美国历史的重要意义首先在于它让各国看到了称雄新大陆的愿景——这一景象如同夺目却短暂的流星般掠过历史的天空，极富预意但又瞬间即逝。

对这片大陆早期历史的研究从有关印第安人文化和史前器物的大量传说和语言暗示中，抽丝剥茧，逐渐展现了印第安文化在密西西比河谷的兴衰变化，以及石器时代的先祖向密西西比河谷的迁徙历程。然而，要完全了解这段历史，我们尚任重而道远。

法国人率先踏上这片土地，走进原始先民，并在我们的早期历史中留下了一段传奇篇章，一场未尽的帝国梦想。几乎贯穿整个北美大陆的密西西比河谷令法国人惊叹。拉迪松和葛洛赛耶斯两位探险家不仅到达了苏必利尔湖的尽头，而且很有可能进入了密西西比河水域，从而得以窥见西部的富庶；马凯特不仅在苏必利尔湖边遇见了伊利诺伊州的印第安人，他还沿着密西西比河一路前行，几乎到达了源头，在返程途中，他发现了现在的芝加哥城；拉萨尔爵士正是在墨西哥湾至大湖区雄伟景色的激发下开始了他的探险之旅。17世纪末叶，佩罗对密西西比河上游地区的影响是巨大的，与此同时，源头处的路易斯安那州正在伊贝维尔的努力下逐步形成。同样具有重要意义的是，当伟伦德耶兄弟向西北部（这是他们发现大角山和密西西比河谷天然边界的地方）挺进时，马勒特兄弟正沿普拉特河逆流而上，穿过科罗拉多平原直达圣达菲，并因此发现了密西西比河谷西南部的天然边界。

对当时的英国人而言，密西西比河谷不过是阿利根尼山脉另一侧的一大片土地。时任弗吉尼亚总督的斯波茨伍德是开疆辟壤的先驱之一，颇具远见卓识。他审时度势，提出西进建立殖民地，以防法国依托大片北美殖民地而成为强国。他敏锐地意识到了密西西比河谷在领土扩张方面的重要性，认为大英帝国想要在新大陆继续称霸，就必须控制这一河谷。

对于随后的英法战争，我们现在明白了（当时的人们不可能认识到）：战争的核心问题不是为了获取捕鱼权，或者控制通向西半球圣劳伦斯的道路，也不是为了占有东方的印度，而是为了争夺北美的这片内陆盆地。

当时各个国家对英国最终胜利的意义的认识非常肤浅，以至于法国将密西西比河以西的土地割让给西班牙时，西班牙是如此不情愿，将其视作为避免其北美殖民地利益受损的无奈之举，根本未将其纳入帝国版图扩张的考虑范围。

我们现在明白了，当年轻的乔治·华盛顿来到紧邻密西西比河谷的法国营地，代表弗吉尼亚要求法军离开时，他实际上是代表所有说英语的人士提出的主张，要求拥有并统治这个北美资源和权力的中心。当布拉道克率领将士披荆斩棘，一路从波托马克河到达俄亥俄河支流时，也开辟了一条文明传播之路，并“在蛮荒的边缘刻上了十字架”。如今，这里早已成为了美国工业的中心。

伟大的征服胜利在即时，英国心生不安，担心这些河流会影响其殖民统治，而阿利根尼山脉另一侧蛮夷的原住民更令其心惊胆战。然而，有一点很清楚，那就是1763年《皇家宣言》的初衷不是为了在密西西比河谷建立永久性的印第安保护区，而是为完善英国计划和逐步建立殖民体系而采取的缓兵之计。因此，《皇家宣言》禁止在阿利根尼山脉以西建立殖民地，不允许购买西部土地。看来，伟大的先驱们，如华盛顿和富兰克林，早已敏锐地意识到了这片土地对北美人民的重要性。法国在英法战争中失利后，人们突然意识到真正展现北美创造力的舞台在西部，而非海洋。俄亥俄公司和忠地公司早在战争爆发之初便表现出了对这片土地的浓厚兴趣，而旨在占据南部的伊利诺伊、印第安纳和西部的肯塔基的密西西比公司则在华盛顿和李的领导之下也将目光锁定在密西西比河谷。同时，富兰克林提议在伊利诺伊建立殖民地，显露出他对费城的极大兴趣。实际上，富兰克林清楚地知道在此设立殖民点不失为削弱在美西班牙人势力的一计良策。富兰克林1767年给儿子写信称：“必须在伊利诺伊建立殖民地，积攒实力，以备有朝一日战事爆发时，我们能率兵沿密西西比河南下，长驱直入挺进墨西哥湾，与驻扎在古巴、法属岛屿或墨西哥的军队交锋。”

法国对密西西比河谷不再抱有任何幻想。法国皮毛商贩进入西部荒野，避开法令限制，继续着他们的贸易营生。英国殖民者翻越阿利根尼山脉、摆脱东部殖民地大本营管控后，同样不再受大英帝国的管辖。如果说在东部那些因为英法战争胜利而扬扬得意的英国殖民者眼中，密西西比河谷是他们建立新帝国的大好机会，那么对于翻越阿利根尼山脉进入这片新疆土定居的边境居民而言，密西西比河谷让他们看到了西部疆土和东部故土之间的鲜明差异。人们从一开始就很清楚——阿根尼斯山脉以西的这片土地为建立一个非传统的独立社会提供了一个绝好契机。“西水之子”摒弃了所有的陈规旧俗，认为个人自由高于社会规范；几经与印第安人的恶战，他们最终踏上这片富庶的沃土。他们向东部统治者的权威提出挑战，坚决要求拥有自己的城邦，对东部地区旧的社会等级制度嗤之以鼻。他们一路挺进，不断宣扬民主思想。尽管不如法国人装备精良，他们同样沿着密西西比河谷水系前行，顺流而下，如冰川移动般坚定，势不可挡地改变了这一地区。等到盘踞在河口的西班牙人察觉到这股新势力时，他们已经进入了密西西比河谷。

1794年，当时的路易斯安那总督写道：

“大批不安分的美国人一步步将印第安部落赶向路易斯安那，企图占据俄亥俄河到密西西比河、墨西哥湾到阿巴拉契亚山之间印第安人的大片领地，与我们毗邻而居。与此同时，他们居心叵测地想要获得密西西比河的自由通航权。他们的要求一旦满足，便会得寸进尺，这一点在他们的书籍、公文和演讲中都已昭然若揭。一旦获得在墨西哥湾的自由通航权，他们将染指密苏里利润丰厚的皮草贸易，并最终攫取墨西哥丰富的矿产资源。他们发展的方式及手段与他们的军队一样令西班牙人生畏……他们流浪的天性以及就地取材的生活方式让他们随遇而安。一把步枪加上一袋玉米作为口粮，就足以让一个美国人在树林里待上一个月……他用木头搭起木屋，甚至可以建成颇为坚固的堡垒，来抵御印第安人……他不会畏惧寒冷。当一个家庭厌倦了某个地方，他们便举家迁往别处，然后很快定居下来。

如果这样一群人占领了密西西比河以及密苏里河两岸，或者获取了通航权，那么，毫无疑问，没有什么能够阻挡他们西进的脚步，而西部大片的未占领区域毫无抵御之力……我认为，如不立即采取补救措施的话，美国的这场变革将对西班牙构成威胁。”

事实上，占领了阿利根尼山脉东侧南部山地的拓荒者在密西西比河谷发现了大片可用于领土扩张的自由土地。这些土地的无主状态让其有充分时间形成可能的社会形态。但是，首先，这些占领“西部水域”的人如果想要成为一个强大的民族，必须为其富余产品找寻出路。尽管阿利根尼山脉阻断了他们通向东海岸的道路，密西西比河却为他们打开了一条宽广的南下通道。湍急的河水载着他们的扁舟直通大海，西班牙人却出于殖民垄断利益的考虑在河口处设置了障碍，拒绝放行。

共和国诞生之初，密西西比河谷对美国历史的重要意义在于，除了实行统一的社会和政治统治的13个殖民地之外，一个新的社会已经形成，急切地向原殖民政权立法机构提出了公有土地、国内通信、地区自治、防御及侵略性扩张等一系列问题。密西西比河谷的民众迫使东部站在美国而非欧洲的立场来思考问题。他们引领着美国走上了一条全新的发展轨道。

从革命到1812年战争结束，欧洲人认为密西西比河谷前途未卜。西班牙试图通过控制河口及墨西哥湾、影响印第安部落、暗地勾结殖民者等方式，继续维系对河谷的掌控。其目的主要是想维护自己在美的垄断利益，借此崛起为世界强国。西班牙似乎本能地认为，西班牙的国家前途就在这河谷。可事与愿违，她接二连三地失去了昔日的殖民地——墨西哥湾周边（路易斯安那、佛罗里达和得克萨斯，古巴和波多黎各）、北美西南部及太平洋沿岸，甚至菲律宾和巴拿马运河；而建立于密西西比河谷之上的美国将成长为最为重要的独立合众国，西班牙的帝国统治注定将在这里走向终结。

试图重现昔日殖民辉煌的法国，希望利用密西西比河谷为其西印度群岛提供补给，压制西属美洲殖民地，并以此钳制根基未牢的美国，让其俯首帖耳，听命于法国针对大西洋到阿利根尼山脉地区所制定的政策。从波旁王朝到法兰西共和国，再到拿破仑帝国，法国对从阿利根尼山脉到洛基山脉之间的密西西比河谷觊觎良久，从未放弃过占据该地区的打算。

英国牢牢掌控着五大湖地区，统治着北部的印第安人，并依仗着军舰对墨西哥湾和密西西比河入海口虎视眈眈。美国经历了独立战争，建立起联邦，最早的13个州打破彼此间脆弱的联盟关系，建立了早期的共和体制。英国对此冷眼旁观，并准备将密西西比河谷的殖民者置于其保护伞之下，以免他们步美后尘。

英国从西班牙手中获得了路易斯安那和佛罗里达，这引起了杰斐逊的警惕。他在1790年写道：“从圣克洛伊岛到圣玛利亚一侧，都是英属领地，而另一侧则是他们虎视眈眈的军舰，我们可以肯定地说，他们很快就会设法将密西西比河水所及之处划入自己的版图之中。”而且，他认为这将导致美英之间“要么爆发一场血腥且永无终结的战争，要么永结同好。”

这些国家都认为可以赢得密西西比河谷美洲殖民者的支持，让他们接受美国以外的其他国家的统治。1787年加尔多基甚至厚颜无耻地向麦迪逊建议，让肯塔基人成为西班牙的臣民。1793年法国攻占路易斯安那时得到了由乔治·罗杰斯·克拉克领导的边疆居民的支持。英国则试图赢得西部殖民者的支持。事实上，乔治·罗杰斯·克拉克在1793年和1798年曾两次被法国封为少将；后来出任美军总司令的威尔金森曾在暗地里向西班牙投诚，并许诺不再效忠于美国；塞维尔总督富兰克林（后曾出任田纳西州首任州长），坎伯兰的奠基人罗伯逊，以及西南属地总督布朗特（后曾出任田纳西州州长），他们都宁愿在美国被迫将密西西比河通航权拱手送人之前就接受其他国家的统治。当我们回顾这些历史的时候，我们容易认为当时这些边疆居民有可能已经向其他国家俯首称臣。鲁弗斯·普特南完全值得我们信赖，实践证明，他倡导的联邦制度是行之有效的，他对国家的热爱和忠诚有目共睹，而他为在玛利埃塔建立新英格兰殖民地所作的努力也是众所周知的，1790年费希尔·艾姆斯曾问他，美国是否能保住密西西比河谷，他在回信中这样写道：“如果国会放弃对密西西比河的主权，或是将它拱手让给西班牙人，我相信西部地区的民众将会很快脱离美国。我坚信政府的这一举措将激起他们的不满和愤怒，民众将宁愿成为西班牙的臣民，也不愿做国会的契约仆人。”他还说，如果国会不向西部民众提供适当保护，他们可能会转投入英国或西班牙的怀抱。

在铁路出现之前，密西西比河谷是这个国家独立的基础，尽管民众将不可避免地从东部迁往西部。顺流而下的河水从墨西哥湾直接入海。新奥尔良人掌控着河谷，用威尔金森的话说，如同“钥匙和锁，或是要塞和外垒”的关系一般。只要密西西比河谷受到来自欧洲国家的威胁，或部分受其控制，美国，包括其财富，就必须算做欧洲的一部分。美国主要的经济利益，东北部各州的商人和水手，以及南部沿海地区的主要产品都得让欧洲分一杯羹，这种状况直到美国依托密西西比河谷进行国内贸易才结束。杰斐逊清楚地认识到了密西西比河谷的重要意义。1802年他在写给利文斯顿的信中称：

“在这个星球上有这么一块地方，它的所有者是我们天生的宿敌，这就是新奥尔良。我们国土八分之三的产品都必须经新奥尔良才能进入市场交易。这片土地非常富饶，不久这里的农作物产量便会超过我们总产量的一半，居民人数也将超过我们总人口的一半……法国人自占领新奥尔良之日起便决定抑制其发展。这促成了美英两国达成联盟，两国若联手便能称霸整个大洋。自那时起，我们必须拉拢英国及其舰队，为了两国的共同利益，将美洲大陆牢牢置于美英的掌控之下。”

美国从法国手中购得路易斯安那之后才实现了密西西比河谷地区真正意义上的统一。1796年法国人柯罗在调查之后向其政府报告称：

“密西西比河左（东）岸所有未与西部结盟的地区都离路易斯安那太远，不足以提供保护……如果此地为两国所占，一方占据沿海地区，一方占据平原，那么前者势必或登船离去或俯首称臣。由此我认为，北美西部各地区必须与路易斯安那携起手来，共同组建一个紧密团结的国家；否则路易斯安那无论落入谁人之手，都难逃被征服或遭掠夺的命运。”

美国通过购买路易斯安那，实现了整个密西西比河谷的政治统一。这一举措影响深远。这是美国作为一个世界大国摆脱与国外联盟，踏上独立征程的具有决定意义的一步。哈里森赢得西北部战争胜利之后，又在1812年战争中获胜，这两场战事的胜利确保了美国在河谷北部地区的扩张。杰克逊顺利挺进墨西哥湾，并同时成功抵御住了新奥尔良人的进攻，为棉花王国的建立奠定了基础，这对于整个国家的经济而言意义重大，对于奴隶制问题更是意义深远。随后美国顺理成章地买下了佛罗里达、特科萨斯和法尔威斯特。美国不仅在外交上走上了一条独立自主的道路，其政治体制也是全新的——如今密西西比河谷已经为各州打通了加入联合政府的道路，各州的加入让新英格兰和联邦政府应接不暇。宪法教条主义的规定成了作茧自缚：面对这无数所谓的“州”的加入，人们之前关于主权国，即联邦政府缔造者的概念便难以自圆其说了，因而联邦政府采取设立“准州”过渡期的办法，准州只在某些条件下才获承认，而且他们加入联邦更多地是出于民族精神，而非出于爱国。

通过购买的方式，美国获得了整个密西西比河流域，国家版图由此得到扩张，国内资源也得以大大丰富，大西洋沿岸很快便将其经济重心从沿海转向内陆。各城市和地区开始为控制工业经济而奋斗。真正意义上的美国活动、美国文化由此形成。密西西比河流域广袤的土地和丰富的自然资源亟待人们来此开发、定居。之后，美国出现了持续的外国移民热，这些外来人口与本土居民共同构成了美国，而这种融合必将诞生一个全新的、包罗万象的美利坚民族。

我认为购买路易斯安那的重要意义已毋需赘言，下面我想提醒诸位的是，密西西比河谷在推动国家民主进程以及转移本国政治中心方面也具有极为重要的意义。民主思想的发源地就在密西西比河谷，它诞生于这片自由的土壤，继承了拓荒者的开拓精神，在独立战争中受到各类思潮的熏陶，并在这片广袤的土地上展现得淋漓尽致。“西水之子”率先提出了民主口号，并始终坚持自己的理念。阿利根尼山脉的地理分界让边疆区域自治成为可能，并由此诞生了一个独立的西部政权和《1787年西北法令》。当时的情况是，如果强行将西部置于东部统治之下，很有可能会削弱西部与联邦之间的纽带，反而令其心生离意。在制宪会议上，东部的政要表露出他们对西部民主制度的担忧，并认为应当限制西部的政治权利，使之无法与东部平起平坐，以防其得票数超过东部地区。但最终还是更为包容、自由的思想占了上风。同样，在关于公有土地的首次辩论中，代表们明确指出这一问题关乎国家社会制度及财政收入。东部政要担心大量的廉价土地将吸引大批民众，从而导致东海岸各州人口减少，而劳动力资源的不足将会阻碍其工业发展。1796年一位会议代表在回应东部代表的这种忧虑时说道：

“是否有人能够仅凭名字便能指认出哪个阶层应当成为社会奴仆，对此我深表怀疑；即便真能做到这一点，那你的这条法令是针对哪个阶层的民众呢？但是，如果诸位通过这项法案（即限制密西西比河谷的土地出让面积），这无异于说，某个阶层的民众不得改变其阶级地位，且须依照法律为其他阶层服务，劳动报酬还得由他人决定。”

加勒廷在同一场辩论中也同样表达了他对美国民主思潮的担忧，他这样说道：

“如果我们仔细研究一下国家幸福根源的话，我们会发现与政治制度同等重要的一个因素是国土面积与人口数量的比例适当。”

密西西比河谷因其公民自由和广袤土地成为了所有地区受压迫者的避难所，正是在这个位于西部边疆的民主社会中，杰克逊提出了他的民主主张。约翰·昆西·亚当斯党派下台后，他将其民主制度推向了全国。这个民主社会的中心位于田纳西州，从此处往北的密西西比河谷大部分居住的都是南方高地先民的后代。至于密西西比河谷的重要性，我们只消回顾两党中来自田纳西、肯塔基和密苏里的政要，便可见一斑了。除了杰克逊、克雷、哈里森和波尔克，我们还能说出不少总统候选人的名字，例如休·怀特和约翰·贝尔，副总统R. M.约翰逊、财政委员会主席格伦迪，以及西部激进主义的坚决拥护者本顿。

在同一时期，由于东部人口不断向西迁徙，加之杰克逊的民主制度让东部人心浮动，较早加入美联邦的诸州中大多数都基于民主思想重新制定了宪法。密西西比河谷坚持主张人权，对特权阶级也一视同仁，实行自由的选举投票制度（即仅根据人口一项决定投票权，而非财产和人口两项指标），正是从密西西比河谷掀起了一股变革浪潮：修改选举权和议员名额分配方式，改革债务监禁法令，并全面抨击垄断及特权阶层。杰克逊在1873年这样写道：“很显然，一小部分富裕贵族阶层与多数的民众之间的这场战争将持续下去；因为有钱人想用钱让淳朴的劳动者心甘情愿地为他们劈柴挑水。”

此时的密西西比河谷已经拥有众多人口和强大的政治势力，足以与东部相抗衡。密西西比河谷对于美国历史的第二点重要意义在于，自1812年战争结束至南北战争期间它在国家经济及政治发展过程中的作用。1790年密西西比河谷的人口数量约为10万，占当时美国总人口的四十分之一；到1810年，该地区人口数量已超过100万，占总人口的七分之一；到1830年，该地区拥有360多万人口，占总人口的四分之一还多；到1840年，该地区拥有600多万人口，超过当时全国总人口的三分之一。在1830年至1840年的十年间，大西洋东海岸地区的人口数量仅仅增加了150万，而密西西比河谷却增加了近300万人口。俄亥俄州在1790年时还是块尚未开垦的荒地，然而半个世纪之后，该州的人口数量已与宾夕法尼亚州相当，且是马萨诸塞州人口的两倍。在1830年至1840年间，弗吉尼亚、北卡罗来纳和南卡罗来纳的人口数量增加了6万，而与此同时伊利诺伊人口却增长了31.8万，实际上，仅该州一处增加的人口数量就已超过整个南大西洋地区的人口总和。

这些数字清楚地显示出密西西比河谷因其极具竞争力的廉价土地、富饶物产和对劳动力的吸引，让东部感受到了巨大压力。这不仅让东部的劳苦大众有机会改善自己的生活，同时也大大提升了密西西比河谷的政治地位。在1812年战争爆发之前，密西西比河谷只有六个参议员席位，而新英格兰有10席，中部诸州共10席，南部8席。到了1840年，密西西比河谷拥有24个参议员席位，是中部诸州和新英格兰总席位数的两倍，南部诸州的近三倍；同时密西西比河谷在众议院中所占的席位数量已经超过了较早加入联邦的诸州。在1810年，密西西比河谷在众议院中的席位还不及新英格兰和南部诸州总席位数的三分之一，然而到了1840年，它的席位已经超过了两者的总和，同时由于其特殊性，密西西比河谷还扮演着平衡权力的角色。

密西西比河谷在政治上迅速崛起，可以和任何老资格的诸州平起平坐，与此同时该地区经济的蓬勃发展也带动了整个国家的工业发展。1812年战争结束之后，汽船的出现让密西西比河的运输工具发生了翻天覆地的变化。各经济区的富余产品都向外销售，再将所得收益投向制造业。在密西西比河谷下游地区和墨西哥湾平原地区推广棉花种植具有双重意义。棉花生产中心从南大西洋地区转出不仅让东部陷入经济困顿，因为来自西部的竞争一方面降低了大西洋东海岸的价值，另一方面又让东部的劳动力日益稀缺；而且，密西西比河谷棉花产量的增加还导致了棉花价格下跌。在国家经济重心正逐步从南部沿海地区向密西西比河谷下游的棉花王国转移的同时，其上游地区也经历着飞速发展，这部分得益于南方种植园产量过剩对其市场的刺激作用，由于粮食及家畜短缺，南部几乎无一例外都种植主要的粮食作物，过剩的农作物恰好丰富了上游地区的市场。

与此同时，富饶的密西西比河成为通向西印度群岛、大西洋沿岸、欧洲及南美洲的贸易通道，而位于匹兹堡、圣达菲和新奥尔良之间的河谷则成为了工业基地。密西西比河谷对美国的政治及工业具有举足轻重的作用。1784年华盛顿就曾说过，弗吉尼亚通过改善国内交通用利益纽带将东西部联系在一起是一项明智之举，她从此可以受惠于西部崛起带来的大量利润丰厚的贸易。

西部经济的迅速崛起让纽约、费城和巴尔的摩等相互竞争的城市争相向西部提供商品，同时又购入西部的产品。这种国内贸易的增加让东西部都想通过改善国内交通来打破阿利根尼山脉的阻断。1812年战争结束之后东西部的贸易往来变得尤为活跃，当时纽约依据德·威特·克林顿的宏伟设想，试图在伊利运河旁开挖一条更大的哈得孙河，将大湖区的湖水引入纽约港，并连同其他几条运河吸引来自密西西比河支流的运输。此举将深处内陆的纽约与密西西比河直接相连，从而确立了纽约在商贸方面的领先地位。1869年在亨特创办的《商人》杂志上一位作者对此举的重要意义进行了清晰地阐述：

“在西部出现之前，在阿利根尼山脉还是居住及农耕的界限屏障时，沿海城市曾经历辉煌，在这一时期，无论是南部还是北部的沿海各大城市都基于其幅员及资源情况获得了不同程度的发展。由于马里兰、弗吉尼亚、南北卡罗来纳和乔治亚在经济类农作物产量方面高于北部殖民地，因此与北部沿海地区相比，巴尔的摩、诺福克、查尔斯顿及萨凡纳等城市贸易更为活跃，发展也更为迅速。”

随后他将城市发展划分为三个阶段：（1）地区发展时期，仅限于大西洋沿海地区；（2）与密西西比河谷相连的运河及收费公路时期；以及（3）铁路运输时期。他以诺福克为例，说明该城市是如何在面对利润丰厚的内陆贸易面前闭关自守，而最终被纽约赶超的。费城、巴尔的摩、查尔斯顿和萨凡纳等城市试图将依托于密西西比河的水路贸易引向他们的大西洋港口的努力，以及这些城市因此经历的兴衰沉浮，都充分说明了密西西比河谷在美国工业发展中的重要意义。殖民帝国之于伦敦正如密西西比河谷之于美国的沿海城市，它们看到了一个正在崛起的工业王国，看到了对这片土地进行有效管理便能使美国成为工业巨头。

在密西西比河谷上演的不仅仅是城市间的竞争与联合，地区间的竞争同样让我们看到了内陆地区的权力平衡为地区联合提供了契机。这正是卡尔霍恩政治主张的基本思想，他强烈要求沿海南部地区修建一条铁路以发掘西北部资源。华盛顿希望西部能在弗吉尼亚寻求贸易渠道，并通过加强与密西西比河谷的往来为弗吉尼亚州积聚工业能量，门罗希望将西部与弗吉尼亚的政治利益挂钩；德·威特·克林顿希望能把密西西比河谷与纽约联系在一起；卡尔霍恩和海恩斯和他们英雄所见略同，希望通过将密西西比河水引入他们的港口，从而将“乔治亚和卡罗来纳打造成美国的商业中心，同时也是联邦诸州中最强大、最具影响力的两大州”。卡尔霍恩称：“我认为与西部联系的成功对于我们的政治和商业具有极为重要的意义。……我深信在对西贸易方面，查尔斯顿比大西洋沿岸的任何一座城市都更具地理优势，但是为了发挥这些优势，我们应当将目光投向田纳西而不是俄亥俄，甚至更远一点，投向西部而不是辛辛那提或莱克星敦。”

卡尔霍恩在1836年和1837年主张将剩余收益以及将公用土地交还给所在州，以诱使西部与南方建立联盟，这正是他为之大声疾呼的原因所在，同时也是他大力推动国内交通建设的关键所在，因为它将在密西西比河掀起南下贸易的热潮。

在此我不想再展开论述，我只想提醒各位留意这样一个事实，克雷之所以大力倡导改善国内交通及关税制度，正是因为密西西比河谷对美国民众生活具有重要意义。正是在河谷上游地区，尤其是俄亥俄河谷议员的推动下，1816年、1824年及1828年的关税法才得以投票通过。密西西比河谷的利益左右着这些关税法案，而该地区对改善交通建设的需求为对所有1812年战争后的建设性立法进行地方讨论时奠定了基础。新英格兰、中部及南部诸州纷纷寻求与快速成长的西部建立联盟，在美国法律中我们能找到这些长期联盟的影子。美国国家银行甚至也发现其主要业务都在密西西比河谷地区。整个美国已经将其精力转向国内开发，各地区也为争夺内陆的经济政治利益而展开激烈竞争。

然而此时的密西西比河谷也正开始经历社会等级分化和地理划分。随着铁路向山区延伸，来自新英格兰和纽约的大批殖民者，以及来自德国的移民大军纷纷涌入五大湖区和密西西比河上游地区。一个与新英格兰存在工业及社会联系的新区域逐渐形成。铁道运输大大增强了伊利运河的运量，就像德鲍说的，它让“百川之父”（即密西西比河）的河水倒流，对于河谷的大部分地区而言，河流的入海口变成了纽约而不是新奥尔良。北部地区以南是更广阔的南方高地，包括俄亥俄河及密苏里河两岸，并往南延伸至墨西哥湾平原北部的丘陵地区。密西西比河下游肥沃的土壤以及乔治亚和阿拉巴马的黑土地成为建立在奴隶制度之上的“棉花王国”的中心，在此定居的大部分是来自位于大西洋沿岸老棉花产区的种植园主。密西西比河谷让奴隶制度焕发了新的活力，并赋予了它争强好斗的西部特性。

当密西西比河谷丧失了其社会同质性，它便陷入了反奴制度的漩涡。我们不妨引述两位分别来自南方和北方的领袖的两段演说，看看他们是如何描述当时的情形的。首先，1858年3月4日来自南卡罗来纳的哈蒙德在参院发表演讲时说：

“将南北双方放在一起比较，看看各自为政的状况能为彼此带来何种利益，我不认为这样做有任何不妥之处。

“密西西比河，这条由三万六千英里的大小河流汇聚而成的‘百川之父’流经美国的心脏地带；河谷西侧是大片无人开垦的荒原，成为我们天然的防御屏障。诸位难道能把如此广阔的地域完全圈起来吗？你们提出在此树起一道长达85万英里的火墙，简直是无稽之谈！

“伟大的密西西比河谷就位于这片疆土之上，此时它已成为一个真正的世界帝国中心，并很快将获得全世界的认可。这条河谷的影响力堪与人类早期文明的尼罗河相媲美。如今这条河谷几乎为我们所有，而且其中最有价值的地区也在我们的掌控之下；尽管现在北方处处与我们作对，到了下一代情况便会完全不同。根据所有的自然法则，他们迟早会听命于我们；奴隶会遍布整条河谷的每一个角落，因为他们会为我们带来丰厚的利润，那些现在不愿使用奴隶的人很快就会为利益所吸引，站到我们这边来，成为一个无法分割的整体。如今火车须穿梭在冰天雪地的北方，但很快汽笛长鸣的火车就会穿越南部阳光灿烂的平原，将河谷上游的产物运往大西洋沿岸各大港口。大自然孕育的密西西比河将美联邦各部联系起来，并将一直发挥团结各州的纽带作用。”

正如沿海南部将领跑者的位置让给了田纳西，随后又让给了密西西比河下游的棉花王国，新英格兰和纽约也将指挥大权交给了密西西比北部河谷及五大湖地区。东部辉格党曾经的领袖苏华德，在争夺共和党党内总统候选人提名时败给了林肯，他有充分的理由为美国东北部地区大声疾呼。1860年秋，在威斯康星州麦迪逊的一次演讲中，他对观众这样说道：

“首都设于华盛顿的美国成立尚不足百年，它曾经不过是大西洋沿岸十三州组成的小国家。如今帝国使命已经完成。东部十三州正准备将政权移交出去，尽管国家宪法和体制不会发生任何变化，但政权正从位于阿利根尼山脉东侧、大西洋沿岸的十三州向位于山脉西侧的二十个州转移，并由此西延至落基山脉，而诸位都是它的后代。在下一次的人口普查中我们将看到诸位的能量，你们将成为美利坚合众国的主人，你们将掌控全世界的政治。”

苏华德就奴隶制问题向西北部发出了这样的呼吁：

“从此以后，西北部地区的民众必须直接地或间接地承担起所有责任。……当民主本身不想施行民主制度时，在商业区和工业区继续施行民主制度就毫无意义了。当诸位不再用有力的双手和明智的赞成票对民主提供支持，那么在珍珠街、华尔街、法院街、栗树街，以及商业区其他任何一条能拯救我们民主政府的街道上实行民主制度都毫无意义。因此，诸位必须引领我们继续沿着民主大道向前。我们将人权及人类自由的大旗交给诸位，我们要求诸位一往无前，唯有这样，我们才会追随各位的领导。”

当我们回顾美国废奴斗争的历程时，我们不难发现密西西比河正是废奴问题产生的根源。《1787年西北法令》、“密苏里妥协案”、得克萨斯问题、“自由土地”骚动、“1850年妥协案”、“堪萨斯-内布拉斯加法案”、德雷德·斯科特决定、以及堪萨斯血战——这些都与密西西比河谷有关，历数这些事件我们可以清楚地看到，正是向密西西比河谷的扩张让奴隶制度在美国历史中产生了巨大影响。如果不是向这一地区的扩张，奴隶制度可能早已如先辈希望的那样逐步消亡了。

至于密西西比河谷在南北战争中的重要意义，我认为已毋须赘言。伊利诺伊为北方培育出了美国总统，同样，密西西比也为南方养育出了总统。林肯和戴维斯都出生于肯塔基州。格兰特和谢尔曼两位北方将领出身于密西西比河谷，两人都认为维克斯堡被攻陷之后，整个南方已经大势已去，只要南部联邦在东部战场失利之后未能夺回密西西比河，南方便大厦将倾了，正如谢尔曼将军所言：“得河谷者得天下。”

随着南北战争的结束，政治权利中心经过多年斗争终于转移到了密西西比北部河谷，这里的格兰特、休斯、哈里森以及麦金利等一大批举足轻重的政要就是政权转移最好的明证。河谷地区的人口数量从1860年的1500万激增至1900年的4000万——超过了美国总人口的一半。该地区工业的快速发展对于美国的重要影响也绝不容忽视或低估。在河谷北部边界，从明尼苏达州的州界附近贯穿五大湖地区直到匹兹堡，有一条从铁矿到工厂、从开采到生产的大规模产业链。钢铁工业是美国的基础，它让全球的工业发生了翻天覆地的变化。美国的生铁及钢产量与其两大竞争对手产量的总和相当，而用于冶炼的铁矿石就主要产自密西西比河谷。密西西比河谷还是煤炭主产区，其煤产量几乎是英德两国产量的总和；密西西比河谷还拥有几片大油田。该地区还是美国小麦及玉米等农作物种植和牲畜养殖的主产地，并向欧洲出口；产自该地区的棉花供应着全球三分之二的工厂；其四通八达的铁路运输系统构成了全球最大的交通运输网络。密西西比河谷还要求通过整体改善其水路运输系统，以实现进一步工业整合。这一设想得到了罗斯福的支持，如果得以实现，密西西比河谷的大量贸易将可以从老路进入新奥尔良，在巴拿马运河建成之后，还可依托南部铁道运输进入加尔维斯顿。为了开发中西部资源，推动该地区交通运输发展并获取贸易利润，东部资本纷纷融合，以大型股份公司、信托公司和联合企业的形式注入中西部。由于大批资本的注入，大量城市和制造业随之涌现，部分密西西比河谷已与东部无异。该地区民主社会的根基正随着自有土地时期的结束而消逝。

在关于密西西比河谷对美国历史重要性的讨论中，我最后想简述一下它对美国社会产生的必然结果。密西西比河谷将一直对美国社会起到推动作用呢，还是它将转变为东部及欧洲的发展模式？换句话说，归根结底的问题在于是美国自身在推动社会历史的发展吗？密西西比河谷最重要的意义在于其树立的理念：这片区域的发展不是借助革命性理论的指引，而是得益于大量机遇，得益于不断向上进步的个人树立的民主理念，得益于由诸多清楚个人权力及责任的先辈创立的民主理念。进入20世纪，这些个人主义和民主主义的理念是否依然适用于新世纪的文明发展呢？

我们不乏富裕繁荣、强大昌盛、热爱艺术以及不断扩张疆土的国家。但没有任何一个国家能像美国一样实行合乎工业及政治的发展和自由利益、拥有自我意识和自我约束的民主制度。在密西西比河谷辽阔的土地上，推动其社会转型以及改进其民主理念的力量都可能会受到压制。

密西西比河谷的农民逐渐从个人主义以及人人平等的理念中明白了竞争与联合意味着强者为王，在国家发展中要抓住符合统治阶层利益的战略要素。他们逐渐意识到不受社会约束的个人主义和民主主义之间天生存在矛盾；他们的个人抱负和力量对民主制度构成了威胁。密西西比河谷对美国历史的重要意义部分在于这是一片反抗之地。这里曾经爆发过各种各样出于民主目的试图改善民众生活的运动，其中有一些甚至因考虑不周而略显鲁莽。源自密西西比河谷的运动引发了民众一波接一波要求其权益及社会理念受法律保护的民运浪潮。格兰其运动、绿背纸币运动、平民主义运动、布赖恩民主主义，以及罗斯福共和主义都在密西西比河谷赢得了广泛的支持。他们将密西西比河谷的理念真正付诸行动。密西西比河谷人民在不断的尝试和经验累积中找到了解决矛盾的根本方法，即如何建立一个良好的社会秩序，在实际的民主制度中依然能保持其自由、进步和个体的特性。密西西比河谷向世人发问：“如果一个人获得了全世界却丧失了他自己的灵魂，这对他有何益？”

密西西比河谷为美国提供了一种全新的社会秩序。这里的大学设立了新的学术机构，研究社会服务及如何改善平原居民生活。这里的历史学家应当重新审视密西西比河谷的发展历程，为其理念及其丰富的资源做好记录，以供当世之用，最终能够借古见今，让我们了解这座伟大的河谷将对美国产生比过往都更为深远的何种重要影响。

四

美国历史中的社会力量（1910）

在我们所生活着的这个年代，美国正经历着一次影响深远的社会转型，我们甚至可以毫不夸张地说我们正目睹一个全新的美国的诞生。在过去的20年里，美国所经历的社会及经济结构变革可以与美国的独立及制宪相提并论，或与一个半个世纪以前南北战争与重建时期引发的社会变革相提并论。

这些变革酝酿已久，其根源一部分在于随着蒸汽时代的到来及大规模产业的形成，全世界出现了一股秩序重组的势力，部分根源还在于西方殖民地时代的终结。研究美国发展历程的学生早已预言了这些变革，并部分描绘了其发展过程。然而尽管如此，当美国民众逐渐意识到那些曾经推动其社会发展至今日的根基正逐步消失时，他们还是感到了震惊。20年前，正如我先前曾经提到过的，人口普查局局长宣布已无法再界定边疆界线（西进运动后的数十年里地图所描绘的疆域边界）。今天我们必须再加上这么一句：民众个人争夺资源的自由竞争年代即将结束。美国历史中从边疆界线消失开始的这一章节，只记录了不到一代人的时间便结束了，这是美利坚合众国殖民历史的最后一章，关于其开拓性民主制度的记载也到此为止。

这精彩的最后一章记录了美国各方力量齐聚西部，蓬勃发展的过程。仅凭统计数字便足以向世人昭示一个新时代的到来。他们已无须再通过向世人展示有多少政府公有土地被改造成农业用地，面积与欧洲相当的这片荒原是如何在数十年间变成美国的粮仓等这些来彰显其重要意义。从1870年至1880年的十年间，美国增加的耕地面积相当于一个法国，1880年至1900年增加的耕地面积相当于法国、德国、英格兰及威尔士的面积总和。1910年的记录现在尚不可得，但是无论其记录了什么，其意义都比不上前十年，因为前十年记录下了这期间东部地区财富的急剧增长以及工业的快速发展。由于西部帝国最后一片区域最终向文明社会缴械投降，加之公司运作领域的不断扩展，美国民众居住范围的不断扩大，美国的工业产量及财富出现了史无前例的快速增长。

在本十年间，国内所有银行的存款总额增长了两倍还多，流通领域的货币自1890年以来翻了一番。淘金热使我们难以准确推测金价大幅攀升带来的意义，因为截至1909年的十年间，仅在美国一处便开采出超过4160万盎司的黄金。自1905年以来，黄金年均产量超过400万盎司，然而在1880年至1894年间，其年产量从未超过200万盎司。在黄金产量持续增长、商业票据不断增多，以及其他各类因素的共同作用下，金价不断攀升，最终成为美国民众生活中最重要、影响最大的因素之一，金价的上涨还对社会调整及政党交替起到了推波助澜的作用。

即便我们暂且抛开那些因价值标准改变而需重新分析的数据，我们依然发现每十年的发展阶段在美国历史进程中有着不同寻常的重要意义。自1897年起的十年间美国的煤产量比此前所有产量都多。50年前我们的煤产量尚不足1500万英吨，然而到了1907年，我们的煤产量已接近4.29亿英吨。照此速度推算，煤炭开采速度将快于其形成的速度，不久我们的煤炭储备便将开采殆尽。钢铁和煤炭都是衡量工业实力强弱的重要指标。过去的20年间美国生产的铁矿石是以往所有时期产量总和的三倍，而刚过去的这十年其产量又比上一个十年的产量增长了一倍。生铁被普遍认为是用于生产运输及制造业所用气压计的理想材料，其年产量直到1898年才超过百万英吨，而自1904年往后的五年间，生铁年均产量比1898年产量的两倍还多。到了1907年，美国生铁及钢铁的产量已经超过了英、德、法三国产量的总和，并且就在这十年间，美国钢铁公司不断发展壮大，并最终确立了其在美国铁矿开采及钢铁制造领域的龙头地位。这家股票及债券总市值达14亿美元的公司就成立于本十年之初，这绝非偶然。先前苏必利尔湖四周的荒原，在过去20年间发展成为当前及可预见的未来美国铁矿石的最大产区，期间匹兹堡从这个巨大的宝库获取了巨额财富，并进一步增强了该地区的工业实力。从美国这个工业中心释放出的巨大能量彻底变革了制造业的生产方式，对美国民众生活产生了诸多深远的间接影响。

铁路方面的统计数字也显示出铁路获得了前所未有的大发展，同时一个新工业社会即将形成。1890年至1908年的十年间，每英里客流量实现了翻番，同时期每英里货运量增长了将近两倍，比上一个十年增长了一倍。然而农作物产量却未出现如此大幅度的增长。玉米作物的产量仅从1891年的200亿蒲式耳增长至1909年的270亿蒲式耳；小麦产量仅从1891年的6.11亿蒲式耳增长至1909年的7.37亿蒲式耳；棉花产量从1891年的900万捆增长至1909年的1030万捆。美国的人口出现了适度增长，1890年人口数量为6250万，1900年增长至7550万，到了1910年人口数量超过了9000万。

这些统计数字清楚地表明，美国通过对剩余自然资源的大肆开采所获取的直接财富的增长速度大大快于其人口的增长速度，更远远超过其农作物产量的增长速度。在资本迅速积累，拥有数十亿美元的大公司不断涌现的同时，人口增长已经对食物供给构成压力。钢铁大亨为“胜利的民主”所取得的成就感到欢欣鼓舞，它创造出了连自己都未曾预见的辉煌，然而其更未能预见的是伴随着物质财富的快速增长，民主体制本身及存在条件都将发生改变。

在法尔威斯特成功建立殖民地，完全掌控国内资源之后，美国在19世纪末20世纪初将目光转向远东，开始参与太平洋地区的世界政治。在最近的一场战争中，美国打败老牌帝国西班牙，继续着其扩张的步伐，顺利将其版图延伸至曾经的西属领地，成为菲律宾群岛的主人，与此同时，美国还获得了夏威夷群岛，并在墨西哥湾拥有绝对影响力。在本十年初期，美国就开始通过巴拿马运河为连接其大西洋及太平洋沿岸做准备，并最终成为一个拥有属地和保护国的帝国共和国——这将是一个公认的世界强国，它将在有关欧、亚、非的事务中享有发言权。

权力扩张绝非一起孤立事件，它意味着要在新领域承担重大职责，意味着要与世界各国建立友好关系。实际上，在某种意义上而言，权力扩张是是美国在完成西部土地占有及资源开采之后，将重心向太平洋转移的必然结果。当它在世界站稳脚跟之后，美国发现必须从宪法角度对其联邦政府与各属地之间的关系进行调整。由于缺乏管理其他种族的经验，美国不得不对个人权利以及自由民主的传统理念问题进行重新思考。

如果就这20年转型期对美国社会及国内政策的影响进行一番分析的话，我们不难发现许多拓荒时期民主秩序的影子，其中最明显的便是为解决工业中心运转所需的大批廉价的流动劳力问题而出现的规模空前的移民浪潮。自1900年起的十年间，美国新增了800多万移民。据某位作者在1908年的记载，自1900年起的8年内进入美国的移民“足以抵得上新英格兰地区五个州的现有人口；如果将这些移民平均分散到美国其他各州去的话，他们也至少能抵得上19个州的人口”。1907年美国移民人数为125万，“这一数字是新罕布什尔州和缅因州，这两个最早加入联邦的州的人口总和”。“如此一年的移民人数便足以构成一个新的州，其人数比我们现有的21个联邦州的任何一个州的都多。”来自欧洲的移民大军构成了这波规模空前的移民浪潮，其中来自欧洲南部和北部的人数与日俱增。在此我引述里普利[1]教授的观点，他将1907年当年的移民按人种类型进行了区分，结果发现其中四分之一的移民为地中海沿岸的高加索人，四分之一为斯拉夫人，八分之一为犹太人，只有六分之一来自阿尔卑斯山，六分之一为日耳曼人。1882年，入美的德国移民数量最多，达25万；到了1907年，来自意大利南部的移民凭借33万移民将其取代。很显然，在过去的十年里，美国的种族构成已经发生了巨大变化，然而这些外来移民并没有分散到全国各地，而是主要聚集在几大城市和工业中心。劳工阶层的构成及其薪资以及他们与美国本土雇主之间的关系也因此深受影响；原本同情劳工的雇主也在规模庞大的外国移民大军及自身生活水准不断下降的压力下改变了想法。

大量人口涌入城市，城市获得快速发展，几大工业中心聚集了越来越多的资本和生产，这些事实进一步说明了美国正经历着一场变革。前国务卿理查德·拉什在1827年的报告中这样写道：“情况已经再清楚不过了，大量耕种区人烟稀少的状况只会妨碍而非加快资本积累的速度。”在拉什写这段话30年前，艾伯特·加勒廷便曾在国会提出：“如果我们仔细研究一下国家幸福的根源的话，我们会发现与政治制度同等重要的一个因素是国土面积与人口数量的比例适当。”也许在当时的情形下，这两位来自宾夕法尼亚的金融家是对的；然而当自有土地的年代行将结束、新时代即将到来之际，资本和劳动力的大量涌入还是非常重要的。与加勒廷同时期的一位国会议员在回应是廉价土地导致大西洋沿岸人口减少这一争论时说，如果一部法律的制定是为了阻止民众进入西部地区，那么它无异于说某个阶层的民众不得改变其阶级地位，且须依照法律为其他阶层服务，劳动报酬还得由他人决定。”将公用耕地变为私有土地再次引发了对此问题的争论，并得到了一些新的回应。这一时期恰逢自有土地消失之际，自由竞争时代的个人主义利用大量机会通过资本积聚开始对基础生产过程进行垄断。美国为20世纪的大规模生产、大型联合企业的巨额资本积累，以及蒸汽时代的所有潜能提供了它们发展所需的极度自由，并为它们提供了和西欧国家一样的发展空间，因此资本和工业生产在美国获得了前所未有的快速发展。

自1897年起的十年见证了哈里曼及其对手大力发展美国的铁路运输，并最终成立几大铁路集团的过程，直至哈里曼去世之前，他都一直野心勃勃地想把所有铁路握于自己掌中。在摩根先生巨额融资的帮助下，他终于一步步得偿所愿，将大企业合并，成立了信托公司或企业联合，并通过相关保险公司和信托公司在他们和几大银行之间形成利益圈。全国的银行准备金史无前例地都聚集到了纽约，通过资本的金融操纵和投机推动，国家工业命脉所受到的控制越来越大。规模庞大的私有资产已经形成。国家人均财产已不再是能如实反映普通民众资产的指标数据。另一方面，劳动力阶层的自我意识不断增强，其要求也随之不断增加。总而言之，拓荒时期的个人主义正逐步消失，而社会联合的力量正前所未有地显露出来。按当时流行的说法，白手起家的人成为了煤炭大亨、钢铁大王、石油大鳄、畜牧大王、铁路巨头、金融大王和信托大鳄。如此巨大的资本共同操控一个国家的经济生活，这是前所未有的，而这些财富的获得正是在充满竞争的发展过程中得益于拓荒时期的美国民主制度。

与此同时，手握数十亿美元资本的工业巨头否认他们已经偏离了先驱的理念。他们自诩为新时期的拓荒者，血脉中流淌着建设国家的激情，继续着开发利用国家自然资源的使命，即便年老体衰，即便积聚的财富已享用不尽，他们也要继续找寻新的财富来源，开辟新天地，找寻新的途径，来扩大国家的财富范围，并拓宽自己的财富领域。几年前哈里曼在一次采访中说：“这个国家是由一个伟大的民族发展起来的。他们充满激情，极富想象力，并勇于冒险……他们是伟大的开疆先驱。他们富于远见，尝试一切可能……假如用禁锢性的法律条文对其加以限制，熄灭其热情，压制其想象，禁止其冒险，那么你得到的将是一个停滞不前、因循守旧的民族和国家。”哈里曼的这番话是想要唤起国人对父辈美国理念的重新认识，早期美国人认为，共和制度允许个人拥有为掌控国家自然资源而进行竞争的自由。

另一方面，我们也听到了前总统罗斯福最近在其“新国家主义”中代表西部提出了一些相反的主张：要求增加联邦政府的权利，为了保护国家的自然资源以及维护美国的民主制度，对特殊利益集团、工业集团以及垄断势力进行遏制。

过去的十年里，联邦政府出于社会利益考虑，对个人及公司的自由进行了诸多限制。期间，国会为资源保护做出了诸多努力，成立了国家林业局和垦务局。如果我们拒绝对西部土地进行开发买卖的要求，那么仅凭这些保护性措施和努力便足以标志一个新时代的开始，因为有超过三亿英亩的土地得益于这些保护性措施，免于被占据和买卖的命运，这片受保护土地的面积比建国之初的国土面积还大；对这片土地的保护能让国家更有效地利用其森林、矿产、干旱区及水权。另一个实例是农业部职能范围的扩大，该部门在全世界找寻适宜政府耕地种植的农作物，对土地进行分析并绘制地图，培育种子及牲畜的改良品种，指导农民何时耕种、如何耕种以及种植什么，采取措施防治农作物及牲畜病虫害。最近对纯食品和肉类的立法监管，以及宪法之州际贸易条款规定的一系列监管法都进一步表明了政府保护资源的趋势。

自拓荒时期开始，两种理念便已成为美国传统思维的根基。一是人人都享有参与争夺新大陆资源的自由——占地而居的理念。对于自由的拓荒者而言，政府统治无疑是个魔鬼。二是建立一个“民有民治民享”的政府的民主理念。在公用土地及自然资源变为私有财产的过程中这两种理念均得以体现。然而美国的民主理念是建立在大片无主土地的基础之上的，无主土地是其得以形成发展的重要前提，是其基本特性。因此，时间已经证明殖民时期的这两种民主理念针锋相对，水火不容，埋下了民主消亡的种子。当前正是顺应新形势，调节矛盾，并依托政府传承其传统民主理念的大好时机。社会主义在竞选中获得相当多的支持；新政线党派正逐步形成；民众要求进行初选，要求扩大参议员的参选面，要求参与公投、公决和进行重新选举的呼声越来越高；而这些变化在曾是拓荒时期民主思想大本营的地区最为突出。它们正为其民主理念寻求新的捍卫力量，因为无主土地正逐步消失，这是边疆消失后的必然变化。

值得注意的是，就在它们想借助政府力量维护其民主理念的同时，在社会各方力量之中出现了社会主义的身影。无论是研究国会投票和全体投票的票数构成，还是商业巨头所属阵营及其理念，或学会、宗教等精神组织，我们都发现在民众生活中国家情感不断上升，各区域也日益融合成一个整体。其一部分原因在于国土太大，为了尽量避免民众抵触而采取了用区域性管理替代国家统一管理的办法；然而，在某种程度上，这也是各区域经济、政治和社会利益以及不同精神生活的诉求。对关税进行的投票以及民主共和运动的大本营所在地都充分说明了这一现实。另一个例子是国家试图将铁路运价进行调整，采用各地域不同收益的方法，结果遇到了重重阻力。在此我不想就地方主义展开讨论，我只想指出各自的地区利益都有自己的领袖和代表，过去如此，现在依然如此；而在地区间的竞争和妥协坚定了国会的立法决心，美利坚合众国的联邦关系是由各个地方势力和国家力量——而非各州与国家——共同构成的。随着时间的推移，国家能更好地应对不同地区的情况，国家与地方将形成一种新的自我意识和自我主张。我们的国家性格正是这些地方性格的综合体。

显然，为了找出美国近代史中最重要的特点，哪怕是一部分特点，我们都必须对美国复杂的社会势力进行分析。这段历史离我们不远，各事件与事态发展趋势之间的关系自然会引起我们的关注。我们已经研究分析了地域、工业发展、政治及政府之间的联系。借助这些分析，我们还要研究不断变化的社会构成、民众的传统理念及思维定式、国家、各地方及各领袖人物的心理。我们必须了解这些领袖人物是如何借助天时地利应运而生的，同时又是如何凭借自身的天赋成为当时独一无二的领袖的。我们同样不能忽视道德倾向和理想信念。所有这些都是组成同一整体的不同部分，犹如盲人摸象，仅凭几个个体无法获得正确的整体认识，同样的，忽视了重要的组成部分，或仅使用单一的研究方法，均无法获得正确的认识。与欧洲历史不同，美国历史关注的重点是在为适应形势而进行的国家变革中起着建构作用的社会势力。而这种形势又将逐步发生新的变化，施加新的影响，最终产生新的社会机构和职能部门。

快速回顾这段近现代史有两个目的：第一，我们有必要强调自边疆消失之后美国社会的发展；第二，对目前情形的分析有助于我们的历史研究。

与之相似的一个理论认为每个时代都会对按照合乎其时代精神的利益标准重新审视其历史。每个年代都会认为有必要从不同角度对历史——至少是历史的一部分——进行重新研究，因为新的历史环境让我们比前人更了解当时社会势力的影响及其重要意义。毋庸置疑的是每个研究者和作者都会受到他所生活的那个年代的影响，而这种影响可能让历史学家的观点有失偏颇，但同时，也为其研究提供了新的角度和方法。

那么，如果美国近现代史能为我们了解历史事件提供新的角度，如果近现代史注定要面对风起云涌的社会势力，而这些力量的产生与发展很可能没有引起先前历史学家的足够重视，甚至完全被他们所忽略，那么研究近现代史就显得极为重要，其意义不仅在历史本身，更在于它可能产生全新的理论，新的研究方法，以及看待历史的新标准。更为重要的是，在处理当今的社会问题上，民意和政客都希望他们能被历史记住，从而能让历史为保守派的变革指明方向。

根据目前事态发展的情形回顾过去的历史事件，这极好的研究角度将为我们带来新的诠释。当我们研究密西西比河谷对美国历史曾经产生以及将要产生的重要影响时，年轻的华盛顿穿过白雪皑皑的荒原，要求法军从河谷入口撤军的壮举变成了美国诞生的前兆。当我们研究以匹兹堡为中心的工业发展时，布拉道克将军率军向俄亥俄河挺进便有了新的含义。1794年英国向约翰·杰伊修订条款，提出将从森林湖到密西西比河一线设为美国西北边界，在当时看来，这一条款无疑是关乎原则和土地得失的重要问题。这些条款提议几乎未曾引起历史学家的关注，然而它们却关乎北美大陆储量最大最广的铁矿石——美国基础工业最重要的原料——产区的归属问题，甚至对我们当代一些社会势力的崛起也会产生影响。

我们可以从小党派及小规模的变革运动对当代的影响中更清晰地看到历史事件的延续性和重要意义。在历史学家眼中，它们不过是历史长河中的细支末流，对其研究只会让自己偏离时代洪流。然而，从当代的情形来看，这些细支末流的背后却往往隐藏着通向时代主流的入口，而被认作是大势所趋的主流最终却走向末路，当时看似重要，但最终却像牛轭湖般在细支末流持续且无法抵御的力量作用下，断开了与历史长河的联系成为一潭死水。

资本家与具有民主思想的拓荒者之间的斗争由来已久，可一直追溯到北美殖民地建立初期。其斗争对于殖民时期的政党产生了重要影响。肯塔基的边疆居民再三向联邦议会请愿，抗议权贵和富豪在拓荒者忙于抵御印第安人侵犯，捍卫自己的耕地之际，夺走了他们的土地，在这片抗议声中我们看到了这种斗争。辉格党出现之前，在尚处于蛮荒时期的俄亥俄河谷我们同样看到了这种斗争：亨利·克雷在1811年指责美利坚银行的繁荣完全仰仗于少数特权阶级——“受到特殊优待以区别于社会大众的一群特殊群体，他们享有诸多特权。”20年后本顿的言论也显示了这种斗争的存在，他指责银行成了专为特权人士开设的公司，其中大部分人来自国外，并居住在远离密西西比河谷的偏远地区，而在《宪法》第二章修订条款废除之前，大批民众便已生活在这片富饶的河谷地区了。

“权力和金钱将去往何处呢？40多年来，东北部的大城市借助联邦法律的规定聚集了大量来自南部和西部的财富，却没见有一美元从这里流出。”本顿的言论颇符合现代观点，他认为银行正拉大贫富差距，“一个强大富有的国家对大资本家有利，因为资本总会偏袒资本，”他还提醒大家切莫忘记资本国有化将会遭到各地方势力反对这一事实。

联邦政府面临着一个极为复杂的局面。美国拥有辽阔的国土，拥有诸多存在商业竞争的城市，拥有纷繁复杂的地方利益纠葛，还有斗争激烈的各派政党，以及为利益争夺进行的大量残酷争斗，当面对这一切纷争时，如果我们只有一个受金钱左右的裁决机构，那么我们有充分的理由为此感到担忧。

杰克逊在1837年的评论更为尖刻。他这样写道：“很显然，一小部分富裕贵族阶层与多数的民众之间的这场战争将持续下去；有钱人想用钱让淳朴的劳动者心甘情愿地为他们劈柴挑水。”

历史学家对范·布伦政府关注甚少，最多不过提及他的“独立财政系统”，但对奴隶制问题特别关注。然而在美国社会及政治历程中最重要的一些运动却恰恰发生在杰克逊和范·布伦执政期间。再次翻阅那些记录着底层劳工诉求的文献以及劳工露天会议报告，我们会发现在那些被称为“劳工空想家”的言论中，以及罗克福克党的著名人物，如埃文斯、雅克、拜耳萨尔以及乐盖特等人提出的“人人享有平等权利，无人享有特权”的主张中，当时他们为之奋斗的事件如今都已成了时代主流；我们会发现他们的某些重要政治主张已被写入了今天大政党的政治纲领。正如康芒斯教授在其关于劳工历史的论文和著作中提到的，1830年至1850年间出现的这一股理想化的颇具影响力的人道主义思潮与当前的人道主义运动极为相似，是美国各种社会势力的一次较量；运动在民众要求将公共用地用于社会改善的诉求下声势愈发浩大，它迫切地想为民主寻求新的发展模式。然而如火如荼的反奴斗争淹没了当时所有的运动浪潮。南北战争结束之后，其他因素又阻碍了这些运动的再次兴起。1850年后随着铁路铺进辽阔的西部，此后几十年，为了文明化进程，为了普通大众的利益，也为了增加个人财富，未开垦区域不断减少。整个国家将西部发展视作其利益所在。直至今日，这股人文主义的民主浪潮才再次回复到当年的水平。尽管这些民主思想表现形式不尽相同，但都从未放弃，坚持至今。翻阅一下绿背劳工党、美国保护农业社以及美国人民党的政策纲领，你可以从这些遭到当时主要党派抨击的党纲中发现（经历了布赖恩领导的变革之后的）民主党以及（经历了罗斯福领导的变革之后的）共和党的基本主张。先前的民主思想获得越来越多的支持，而反抗运动显然与此有着千丝万缕的联系，因此它必须被视作这些民主思潮不愿受温和派阻碍而进行的抵抗。

我在此回顾这些政党历史当然不是为了对其进行任何判断评论，而是想强调并具体阐述这样一个事实，即当今的形势让我们对激进的民主思想和保守利益之间的争斗有了新的了解，与其说它们反映了根深蒂固的社会势力的持续作用，不如说它们更像是历史博物馆中零星散落的历史碎片。

假如我们从类似的角度来纵观我们的土地历史，研究从公有土地到美国民主体制中立法及行政间的关系，其结果可能远远超出大多数历史学家的研究所得。从占地而居的行为，为获取良田进行的争夺，依据谁出力谁获取的原则占据公共林地等一系列史实中，我们得以充分了解大公司大集团发展西部时美国所处的历史环境和当时的思潮。以参议员本顿和众议院代表西布利为代表的连续几代人都为拓荒者未经许可占据土地，以及木材商占据公有林地的非法侵占行为进行辩解，并指责美国政府家长式的作风让那些被指责窃取政府林木的人“不堪其扰”。显然，从19世纪中期至今，当我们以违反土地法的罪名将一些国会议员逮捕入狱的时候，美国的是非观念和民众的思想理念发生了一些变化。当我们回顾美国大工业集团发展历程的时候，我们不能忘记它们的成长壮大正值民众观念转变的时期。

同样地，想要全面了解土地问题我们就不能不分析各地方和各阶层竞相高价购地的现象，以及公有土地存在的政治交易问题。我们还应注意到在国家发展的历程中土地法对各地区产生的影响也不尽相同；而一些大公司在巨额利润的驱使下进行大规模资源掠夺的时期，湿润的西部大草原被很不适宜地改造成牧场、煤田和林场。因此，如果我们想要了解法律和政策在此方面有何关联的话，我们必须将公有土地地质的变化以及占据这些土地的各方势力的变化都考虑在内。幸运的是，已经有人开始对民主制度和土地政策进行相关研究。

对与国家经济、政治和社会生活相关的国家农业问题进行研究具有重要意义。譬如，随着大片处女地被开垦用于小麦种植，与小麦老产区展开恶性竞争，小麦种植区从东部向西部转移，研究显示小麦区西移的地图，我们不仅可以了解到它对土地价值、铁路铺设、人员迁徙和廉价食物供给产生了何等深远的影响，以及这些曾经的单一小麦种植区是如何向多种作物的集约型农业和多样化产业转变的；而且我们还可以了解到这些转型如何对政党政治产生影响，乃至该地区民众的理念都因此发生了变化。西部地区小麦丰产，同时山区银矿开采出大量白银都可以为布赖恩执掌民主党期间美国政治表现出的特殊形式作出合理解释。同样的，随后出现的淘金热以及适于小麦种植的处女地的日益减少，也都可以解释高价格是如何推动这个新工业民主国家的需求的。

我想我已经表述得很清楚了，如何理解今日美国，如何理解缔造美国的各种力量的产生与发展，这些都要求我们站在今天的角度重新审视历史。这样，我们就能获得更清晰的理解，譬如，南北方就奴隶制和自由黑奴问题进行的争斗，当时（自1850年往后二十年）是美国最重要的国家利益，现在看来它其实不过是当时诸多利害关系之一。至今我们依然能从当年的国会辩论记录、报纸和公开文献中为当今许多重要事件找到其产生的根源。

在关于美国社会势力的讨论中，我最后提醒各位注意的是我们的研究方式，以及这些研究对历史联系及发展方向的影响。在研究时，历史学家必须说明相关历史联系及相关研究，甚至交代他对热力学定律的态度，并设法找寻导致历史前进或倒退的关键因素——这些研究方法是由之前的著名专家学者所立下的，如今它已经成为了一个惯例。然而并非谁都能完成这样宏大的任务，因此我决定缩小我的研究范围。

我们不妨借鉴一下科学研究的经验。近些年，科学研究通过涉足尚无明确界定的新领域而取得了巨大的突破。而这新成就在很大程度上都是在原有科学知识的基础上取得的。物理化学、电化学、地球物理学、天体物理学以及其他各类科学学科都出现了许多大胆假设，如电光火石般划亮了人类认知的天空，为一代科学家开辟了新的研究领域。更重要的是，新的研究手段让其研究事半功倍。如今兴起了将地质学和史学在某些方面进行类比的研究。新一代的地质学家试图用自然法则来解释无机地球的变化发展：化学、物理学、数学甚至植物学和生物学——只要与古生物学相关的科学都被运用进来。但是他不会坚持认为在运用这些科学知识和数据之前必须要明确物理或化学知识在其中的重要性。实际上，他明白一块区域的地质问题绝非一种可能便能解释清楚的。他已经放弃了单一假设的做法，而改用多种假设进行研究。他设想了研究对象的所有可能性，因此避免了单一理论可能导致的片面性。

我们在此讨论的不正是一个历史学家能够且必须完成的工作吗？在明确历史研究是否需要从经济或心理或其他理论角度进行解读之前，我们有必要认清这样一个事实：人类社会的各类组成因素是复杂多变的；只埋头于自己研究领域的政治史学家在研究某个时期或国家时必定会遗漏一些重要的基本事实和事实之间的联系；经济史学家以及其他所有的专门领域的历史学家也可能出现同样的疏漏。

那些坚称历史不过是陈述事情真相的人会面临这样的尴尬：他们着力想讲述的这个史实从根本上缺乏可靠的事实基础；这所谓的真相不过是事态发展变化的一个阶段，是某一时期纷繁复杂又相互作用的各种影响的一个方面，时代深层次的发展变化赋予其“事实”的表象，而这种发展变化是缓慢的而非一蹴而就的，只有随着时间的推移我们才能发现真正的事实真相及其在历史学家的研究中应当占据的位置。

经济史学家有可能犯这样的错误：他们先基于当前的形势作出分析评述，而后再从历史中寻找能支撑其结论的史实。一位著名的美国经济学家最近这样阐述了他对“经济理论、数据和历史全面关系”的理解：

“通过对共同经验的演绎推理我们得出了一个定律，经统计数据检验之后这一定律便被奉为公认的事实，随后在历史陈述中我们发现了与之相关的史实例证；另一方面，经济规律有助于我们很好地解读原本令人费解且相对价值较低的历史记录，而这也反过来证实了经济规律的正确性；然而与之同等重要的一个事实是，我们通过经济规律最终确定历史事件之间是否存在因果关联的做法已成惯例，同时也是历史学家在研究过程中几乎无一例外都采取的做法。”

这段论述让历史学家获益良多，然而他也许会感到疑惑，史实是否只能作为“例证”，来证实从共同经验中演绎推理得出，并经过统计数据检验的这一规律的正确性？事实上，历史的进程中到处散落着曾被“公认为真”的经济规律的残片，这些“规律”之所以最终被抛弃，原因不仅仅在于其分析和统计的数字存在缺陷，更在于经济学家缺乏历史批判性方法，缺乏足够的历史眼光，而且他们忽视了用以推导经济规律的前提基础是相互关联且存在变化的。

我想强调的是，无论是经济学家、政治学家、心理学家、社会学家、地理学家，还是研究文学、艺术或是宗教的学者——但凡是从事社会研究的所有学者都能为历史学家提供帮助。有些是物质帮助，有些是研究方法上的，有些则是为关联性、根源及重点研究提供新的角度、新的假设和新的建议。这些专业领域学者的研究很有可能存在偏见，因为他们的研究角度具有特殊性，而且他们只关注自己感兴趣的事物，且试图从自己的专业领域中推导出普遍使用的规律。另一方面，历史学家的专业所学和兴趣都使他倾向于仅仅从某一个角度来分析纷繁复杂且相互作用的社会势力，从而导致其研究出现偏差。为了搞清历史真相，历史学家必须熟知所要进行的研究工作，同时对相关学科进行学习了解，至少能借鉴运用相关学科的研究成果并在一定程度上掌握其主要的研究方法。而相关学科的研究人员也同样必须了解历史学家所做的研究及其方法，并在不同领域进行合作。

美国的历史学家必须具备这种素质，这倒不是说他就此可以找到打开历史大门的钥匙，或掌握历史发展的终极规律。现在他正面临一项艰巨的任务。他必须全面地看待美国社会，了解其辽阔的国土，其堪比欧洲诸国的地方势力，其地理影响，其短暂的发展历史，其种族及人种的多样性，其工业在自由发展时期的飞速成长，其制度、文化、理想、社会心理、甚至其宗教结构及变化。透过这些纷繁复杂的现象，美国的历史学家必须清楚地意识到构成美国社会的各种力量正亟待我们的发现和研究。

————————————————————

[1] 里普利（Ripley, 1802-1880）：美国社会改革家，超验主义者。——译者注

Frederick Jackson Turner

The Significance of the Frontier in American History

PENGUIN BOOKS — GREAT IDEAS

I

The Significance of the Frontier in American History (1893)

In a recent bulletin of the Superintendent of the Census for 1890 appear these significant words: 'Up to and including 1880 the country had a frontier of settlement, but at present the unsettled area has been so broken into by isolated bodies of settlement that there can hardly be said to be a frontier line. In the discussion of its extent, its westward movement, etc., it can not, therefore, any longer have a place in the census reports.' This brief official statement marks the closing of a great historic movement. Up to our own day American history has been in a large degree the history of the colonization of the Great West. The existence of an area of free land, its continuous recession, and the advance of American settlement westward, explain American development.

Behind institutions, behind constitutional forms and modifications, lie the vital forces that call these organs into life and shape them to meet changing conditions. The peculiarity of American institutions is, the fact that they have been compelled to adapt themselves to the changes of an expanding people - to the changes involved in crossing a continent, in winning a wilderness, and in developing at each area of this progress out of the primitive economic and political conditions of the frontier into the complexity of city life. Said Calhoun in 1817, 'We are great, and rapidly - I was about to say fearfully - growing!' So saying, he touched the distinguishing feature of American life. All peoples show development; the germ theory of politics has been sufficiently emphasized. In the case of most nations, however, the development has occurred in a limited area; and if the nation has expanded, it has met other growing peoples whom it has conquered. But in the case of the United States we have a different phenomenon. Limiting our attention to the Atlantic coast, we have the familiar phenomenon of the evolution of institutions in a limited area, such as the rise of representative government; the differentiation of simple colonial governments into complex organs; the progress from primitive industrial society, without division of labor, up to manufacturing civilization. But we have in addition to this a recurrence of the process of evolution in each western area reached in the process of expansion. Thus American development has exhibited not merely advance along a single line, but a return to primitive conditions on a continually advancing frontier line, and a new development for that area. American social development has been continually beginning over again on the frontier. This perennial rebirth, this fluidity of American life, this expansion westward with its new opportunities, its continuous touch with the simplicity of primitive society, furnish the forces dominating American character. The true point of view in the history of this nation is not the Atlantic coast, it is the Great West. Even the slavery struggle, which is made so exclusive an object of attention by writers like Professor von Hoist, occupies its important place in American history because of its relation to westward expansion.

In this advance, the frontier is the outer edge of the wave - the meeting point between savagery and civilization. Much has been written about the frontier from the point of view of border warfare and the chase, but as a field for the serious study of the economist and the historian it has been neglected.

The American frontier is sharply distinguished from the European frontier - a fortified boundary line running through dense populations. The most significant thing about the American frontier is, that it lies at the hither edge of free land. In the census reports it is treated as the margin of that settlement which has a density of two or more to the square mile. The term is an elastic one, and for our purposes does not need sharp definition. We shall consider the whole frontier belt, including the Indian country and the outer margin of the 'settled area' of the census reports. This paper will make no attempt to treat the subject exhaustively; its aim is simply to call attention to the frontier as a fertile field for investigation, and to suggest some of the problems which arise in connection with it.

In the settlement of America we have to observe how European life entered the continent, and how America modified and developed that life and reacted on Europe. Our early history is the study of European germs developing in an American environment. Too exclusive attention has been paid by institutional students to the Germanic origins, too little to the American factors. The frontier is the line of most rapid and effective Americanization. The wilderness masters the colonist. It finds him a European in dress, industries, tools, modes of travel, and thought. It takes him from the railroad car and puts him in the birch canoe. It strips off the garments of civilization and arrays him in the hunting shirt and the moccasin. It puts him in the log cabin of the Cherokee and Iroquois and runs an Indian palisade around him. Before long he has gone to planting Indian corn and plowing with a sharp stick; he shouts the war cry and takes the scalp in orthodox Indian fashion. In short, at the frontier the environment is at first too strong for the man. He must accept the conditions which it furnishes, or perish, and so he fits himself into the Indian clearings and follows the Indian trails. Little by little he transforms the wilderness, but the outcome is not the old Europe, not simply the development of Germanic germs, any more than the first phenomenon was a case of reversion to the Germanic mark. The fact is, that here is a new product that is American. At first, the frontier was the Atlantic coast. It was the frontier of Europe in a very real sense. Moving westward, the frontier became more and more American. As successive terminal moraines result from successive glaciations, so each frontier leaves its traces behind it, and when it becomes a settled area the region still partakes of the frontier characteristics. Thus the advance of the frontier has meant a steady movement away from the influence of Europe, a steady growth of independence on American lines. And to study this advance, the men who grew up under these conditions, and the political, economic, and social results of it, is to study the really American part of our history.

In the course of the seventeenth century the frontier was advanced up the Atlantic river courses, just beyond the 'fall line,' and the tidewater region became the settled area. In the first half of the eighteenth century another advance occurred. Traders followed the Delaware and Shawnese Indians to the Ohio as early as the end of the first quarter of the century. Gov. Spotswood, of Virginia, made an expedition in 1714 across the Blue Ridge. The end of the first quarter of the century saw the advance of the Scotch-Irish and the Palatine Germans up the Shenandoah Valley into the western part of Virginia, and along the Piedmont region of the Carolinas. The Germans in New York pushed the frontier of settlement up the Mohawk to German Flats. In Pennsylvania the town of Bedford indicates the line of settlement. Settlements soon began on the New River, or the Great Kanawha, and on the sources of the Yadkin and French Broad. The King attempted to arrest the advance by his proclamation of 1763, forbidding settlements beyond the sources of the rivers flowing into the Atlantic; but in vain. In the period of the Revolution the frontier crossed the Alleghanies into Kentucky and Tennessee, and the upper waters of the Ohio were settled. When the first census was taken in 1790, the continuous settled area was bounded by a line which ran near the coast of Maine, and included New England except a portion of Vermont and New Hampshire, New York along the Hudson and up the Mohawk about Schenectady, eastern and southern Pennsylvania, Virginia well across the Shenandoah Valley, and the Carolinas and eastern Georgia. Beyond this region of continuous settlement were the small settled areas of Kentucky and Tennessee, and the Ohio, with the mountains intervening between them and the Atlantic area, thus giving a new and important character to the frontier. The isolation of the region increased its peculiarly American tendencies, and the need of transportation facilities to connect it with the East called out important schemes of internal improvement, which will be noted farther on. The 'West,' as a self-conscious section, began to evolve.

From decade to decade distinct advances of the frontier occurred. By the census of 1820 the settled area included Ohio, southern Indiana and Illinois, southeastern Missouri, and about one-half of Louisiana. This settled area had surrounded Indian areas, and the management of these tribes became an object of political concern. The frontier region of the time lay along the Great Lakes, where Astor's American Fur Company operated in the Indian trade, and beyond the Mississippi, where Indian traders extended their activity even to the Rocky Mountains; Florida also furnished frontier conditions. The Mississippi River region was the scene of typical frontier settlements.

The rising steam navigation on western waters, the opening of the Erie Canal, and the westward extension of cotton culture added five frontier states to the Union in this period. Grund, writing in 1836, declares: Tt appears then that the universal disposition of Americans to emigrate to the western wilderness, in order to enlarge their dominion over inanimate nature, is the actual result of an expansive power which is inherent in them, and which by continually agitating all classes of society is constantly throwing a large portion of the whole population on the extreme confines of the State, in order to gain space for its development. Hardly is a new State or Territory formed before the same principle manifests itself again and gives rise to a further emigration; and so is it destined to go on until a physical barrier must finally obstruct its progress.'

In the middle of this century the line indicated by the present eastern boundary of Indian Territory, Nebraska, and Kansas marked the frontier of the Indian country. Minnesota and Wisconsin still exhibited frontier conditions, but the distinctive frontier of the period is found in California, where the gold discoveries had sent a sudden tide of adventurous miners, and in Oregon, and the settlements in Utah. As the frontier had leaped over the Alleghanies, so now it skipped the Great Plains and the Rocky Mountains; and in the same way that the advance of the frontiersmen beyond the Alleghanies had caused the rise of important questions of transportation and internal improvement, so now the settlers beyond the Rocky Mountains needed means of communication with the East, and in the furnishing of these arose the settlement of the Great Plains and the development of still another kind of frontier life. Railroads, fostered by land grants, sent an increasing tide of immigrants into the Far West. The United States Army fought a series of Indian wars in Minnesota, Dakota, and the Indian Territory.

By 1880 the settled area had been pushed into northern Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota, along Dakota rivers, and in the Black Hills region, and was ascending the rivers of Kansas and Nebraska. The development of mines in Colorado had drawn isolated frontier settlements into that region, and Montana and Idaho were receiving settlers. The frontier was found in these mining camps and the ranches of the Great Plains. The superintendent of the census for 1890 reports, as previously stated, that the settlements of the West lie so scattered over the region that there can no longer be said to be a frontier line.

In these successive frontiers we find natural boundary lines which have served to mark and to affect the characteristics of the frontiers, namely: the 'fall line;' the Alleghany Mountains; the Mississippi; the Missouri where its direction approximates north and south; the line of the arid lands, approximately the ninety-ninth meridian; and the Rocky Mountains. The fall line marked the frontier of the seventeenth century; the Alleghanies that of the eighteenth; the Mississippi that of the first quarter of the nineteenth; the Missouri that of the middle of this century (omitting the California movement); and the belt of the Rocky Mountains and the arid tract, the present frontier. Each was won by a series of Indian wars.

At the Atlantic frontier one can study the germs of processes repeated at each successive frontier. We have the complex European life sharply precipitated by the wilderness into the simplicity of primitive conditions. The first frontier had to meet its Indian question, its question of the disposition of the public domain, of the means of intercourse with older settlements, of the extension of political organization, of religious and educational activity. And the settlement of these and similar questions for one frontier served as a guide for the next. The American student needs not to go to the 'prim little townships of Sleswick' for illustrations of the law of continuity and development. For example, he may study the origin of our land policies in the colonial land policy; he may see how the system grew by adapting the statutes to the customs of the successive frontiers. He may see how the mining experience in the lead regions of Wisconsin, Illinois, and Iowa was applied to the mining laws of the Sierras, and how our Indian policy has been a series of experimentations on successive frontiers. Each tier of new States has found in the older ones material for its constitutions. Each frontier has made similar contributions to American character, as will be discussed farther on.

But with all these similarities there are essential differences, due to the place element and the time element. It is evident that the farming frontier of the Mississippi Valley presents different conditions from the mining frontier of the Rocky Mountains. The frontier reached by the Pacific Railroad, surveyed into rectangles, guarded by the United States Army, and recruited by the daily immigrant ship, moves forward at a swifter pace and in a different way than the frontier reached by the birch canoe or the pack horse. The geologist traces patiently the shores of ancient seas, maps their areas, and compares the older and the newer. It would be a work worth the historian's labors to mark these various frontiers and in detail compare one with another. Not only would there result a more adequate conception of American development and characteristics, but invaluable additions would be made to the history of society.

Loria, the Italian economist, has urged the study of colonial life as an aid in understanding the stages of European development, affirming that colonial settlement is for economic science what the mountain is for geology, bringing to light primitive stratifications. 'America,' he says, 'has the key to the historical enigma which Europe has sought for centuries in vain, and the land which has no history reveals luminously the course of universal history.' There is much truth in this. The United States lies like a huge page in the history of society. Line by line as we read this continental page from West to East we find the record of social evolution. It begins with the Indian and the hunter; it goes on to tell of the disintegration of savagery by the entrance of the trader, the pathfinder of civilization; we read the annals of the pastoral stage in ranch life; the exploitation of the soil by the raising of unrotated crops of corn and wheat in sparsely settled farming communities; the intensive culture of the denser farm settlement; and finally the manufacturing organization with city and factory system. This page is familiar to the student of census statistics, but how little of it has been used by our historians. Particularly in eastern States this page is a palimpsest. What is now a manufacturing State was in an earlier decade an area of intensive farming. Earlier yet it had been a wheat area, and still earlier the 'range' had attracted the cattle-herder. Thus Wisconsin, now developing manufacture, is a State with varied agricultural interests. But earlier it was given over to almost exclusive grain-raising, like North Dakota at the present time.

Each of these areas has had an influence in our economic and political history; the evolution of each into a higher stage has worked political transformations. But what constitutional historian has made any adequate attempt to interpret political facts by the light of these social areas and changes?

The Atlantic frontier was compounded of fisherman, fur-trader, miner, cattle-raiser, and farmer. Excepting the fisherman, each type of industry was on the march toward the West, impelled by an irresistible attraction. Each passed in successive waves across the continent. Stand at Cumberland Gap and watch the procession of civilization, marching single file - the buffalo following the trail to the salt springs, the Indian, the fur-trader and hunter, the cattle-raiser, the pioneer farmer - and the frontier has passed by. Stand at South Pass in the Rockies a century later and see the same procession with wider intervals between. The unequal rate of advance compels us to distinguish the frontier into the trader's frontier, the rancher's frontier, or the miner's frontier, and the farmer's frontier. When the mines and the cowpens were still near the fall line the traders' pack trains were tinkling across the Alleghanies, and the French on the Great Lakes were fortifying their posts, alarmed by the British trader's birch canoe. When the trappers scaled the Rockies, the farmer was still near the mouth of the Missouri.

Why was it that the Indian trader passed so rapidly across the continent? What effects followed from the trader's frontier? The trade was coeval with American discovery. The Norsemen, Vespuccius, Verrazani, Hudson, John Smith, all trafficked for furs. The Plymouth pilgrims settled in Indian cornfields, and their first return cargo was of beaver and lumber. The records of the various New England colonies show how steadily exploration was carried into the wilderness by this trade. What is true for New England is, as would be expected, even plainer for the rest of the colonies. All along the coast from Maine to Georgia the Indian trade opened up the river courses. Steadily the trader passed westward, utilizing the older lines of French trade. The Ohio, the Great Lakes, the Mississippi, the Missouri, and the Platte, the lines of western advance, were ascended by traders. They found the passes in the Rocky Mountains and guided Lewis and Clark, Frémont, and Bidwell. The explanation of the rapidity of this advance is connected with the effects of the trader on the Indian. The trading post left the unarmed tribes at the mercy of those that had purchased fire-arms - a truth which the Iroquois Indians wrote in blood, and so the remote and unvisited tribes gave eager welcome to the trader. 'The savages,' wrote La Salle, 'take better care of us French than of their own children; from us only can they get guns and goods.' This accounts for the trader's power and the rapidity of his advance. Thus the disintegrating forces of civilization entered the wilderness. Every river valley and Indian trail became a fissure in Indian society, and so that society became honeycombed. Long before the pioneer farmer appeared on the scene, primitive Indian life had passed away. The farmers met Indians armed with guns. The trading frontier, while steadily undermining Indian power by making the tribes ultimately dependent on the whites, yet, through its sale of guns, gave to the Indian increased power of resistance to the farming frontier. French colonization was dominated by its trading frontier; English colonization by its farming frontier. There was an antagonism between the two frontiers as between the two nations. Said Duquesne to the Iroquois, 'Are you ignorant of the difference between the king of England and the king of France? Go see the forts that our king has established and you will see that you can still hunt under their very walls. They have been placed for your advantage in places which you frequent. The English, on the contrary, are no sooner in possession of a place than the game is driven away. The forest falls before them as they advance, and the soil is laid bare so that you can scarce find the wherewithal to erect a shelter for the night.'

And yet, in spite of this opposition of the interests of the trader and the farmer, the Indian trade pioneered the way for civilization. The buffalo trail became the Indian trail, and this became the trader's 'trace;' the trails widened into roads, and the roads into turnpikes, and these in turn were transformed into railroads. The same origin can be shown for the railroads of the South, the Far West, and the Dominion of Canada. The trading posts reached by these trails were on the sites of Indian villages which had been placed in positions suggested by nature; and these trading posts, situated so as to command the water systems of the country, have grown into such cities as Albany, Pittsburgh, Detroit, Chicago, St Louis, Council Bluffs, and Kansas City. Thus civilization in America has followed the arteries made by geology, pouring an ever richer tide through them, until at last the slender paths of aboriginal intercourse have been broadened and interwoven into the complex mazes of modern commercial lines; the wilderness has been interpenetrated by lines of civilization growing ever more numerous. It is like the steady growth of a complex nervous system for the originally simple, inert continent. If one would understand why we are to-day one nation, rather than a collection of isolated states, he must study this economic and social consolidation of the country. In this progress from savage conditions lie topics for the evolutionist.

The effect of the Indian frontier as a consolidating agent in our history is important. From the close of the seventeenth century various intercolonial congresses have been called to treat with Indians and establish common measures of defense. Particularism was strongest in colonies with no Indian frontier. This frontier stretched along the western border like a cord of union. The Indian was a common danger, demanding united action. Most celebrated of these conferences was the Albany congress of 1754, called to treat with the Six Nations, and to consider plans of union. Even a cursory reading of the plan proposed by the congress reveals the importance of the frontier. The powers of the general council and the officers were, chiefly, the determination of peace and war with the Indians, the regulation of Indian trade, the purchase of Indian lands, and the creation and government of new settlements as a security against the Indians. It is evident that the unifying tendencies of the Revolutionary period were facilitated by the previous cooperation in the regulation of the frontier. In this connection may be mentioned the importance of the frontier, from that day to this, as a military training school, keeping alive the power of resistance to aggression, and developing the stalwart and rugged qualities of the frontiersman.

It would not be possible in the limits of this paper to trace the other frontiers across the continent. Travelers of the eighteenth century found the 'cowpens' among the cane-brakes and peavine pastures of the South, and the 'cow drivers' took their droves to Charleston, Philadelphia, and New York. Travelers at the close of the War of 1812 met droves of more than a thousand cattle and swine from the interior of Ohio going to Pennsylvania to fatten for the Philadelphia market. The ranges of the Great Plains, with ranch and cowboy and nomadic life, are things of yesterday and of to-day. The experience of the Carolina cowpens guided the ranchers of Texas. One element favoring the rapid extension of the rancher's frontier is the fact that in a remote country lacking transportation facilities the product must be in small bulk, or must be able to transport itself, and the cattle raiser could easily drive his product to market. The effect of these great ranches on the subsequent agrarian history of the localities in which they existed should be studied.

The maps of the census reports show an uneven advance of the farmer's frontier, with tongues of settlement pushed forward and with indentations of wilderness. In part this is due to Indian resistance, in part to the location of river valleys and passes, in part to the unequal force of the centers of frontier attraction. Among the important centers of attraction may be mentioned the following: fertile and favorably situated soils, salt springs, mines, and army posts.

The frontier army post, serving to protect the settlers from the Indians, has also acted as a wedge to open the Indian country, and has been a nucleus for settlement. In this connection mention should also be made of the government military and exploring expeditions in determining the lines of settlement. But all the more important expeditions were greatly indebted to the earliest pathmakers, the Indian guides, the traders and trappers, and the French voyageurs, who were inevitable parts of governmental expeditions from the days of Lewis and Clark. Each expedition was an epitome of the previous factors in western advance.

In an interesting monograph, Victor Hehn has traced the effect of salt upon early European development, and has pointed out how it affected the lines of settlement and the form of administration. A similar study might be made for the salt springs of the United States. The early settlers were tied to the coast by the need of salt, without which they could not preserve their meats or live in comfort. Writing in 1752, Bishop Spangenburg says of a colony for which he was seeking lands in North Carolina, 'They will require salt & other necessaries which they can neither manufacture nor raise. Either they must go to Charleston, which is 300 miles distant…

Or else they must go to Boling's Point in Va on a branch of the James & is also 300 miles from here … Or else they must go down the Roanoke - I know not how many miles - where salt is brought up from the Cape Fear.' This may serve as a typical illustration. An annual pilgrimage to the coast for salt thus became essential. Taking flocks or furs and ginseng root, the early settlers sent their pack trains after seeding time each year to the coast. This proved to be an important educational influence, since it was almost the only way in which the pioneer learned what was going on in the East. But when discovery was made of the salt springs of the Kanawha, and the Holston, and Kentucky, and central New York, the West began to be freed from dependence on the coast. It was in part the effect of finding these salt springs that enabled settlement to cross the mountains.

From the time the mountains rose between the pioneer and the seaboard, a new order of Americanism arose. The West and the East began to get out of touch of each other. The settlements from the sea to the mountains kept connection with the rear and had a certain solidarity. But the over-mountain men grew more and more independent. The East took a narrow view of American advance, and nearly lost these men. Kentucky and Tennessee history bears abundant witness to the truth of this statement. The East began to try to hedge and limit westward expansion. Though Webster could declare that there were no Alleghanies in his politics, yet in politics in general they were a very solid factor.

The exploitation of the beasts took hunter and trader to the west, the exploitation of the grasses took the rancher west, and the exploitation of the virgin soil of the river valleys and prairies attracted the farmer. Good soils have been the most continuous attraction to the farmer's frontier. The land hunger of the Virginians drew them down the rivers into Carolina, in early colonial days; the search for soils took the Massachusetts men to Pennsylvania and to New York. As the eastern lands were taken up migration flowed across them to the west. Daniel Boone, the great backwoodsman, who combined the occupations of hunter, trader, cattle-raiser, farmer, and surveyor - learning, probably from the traders, of the fertility of the lands of the upper Yadkin, where the traders were wont to rest as they took their way to the Indians, left his Pennsylvania home with his father, and passed down the Great Valley road to that stream. Learning from a trader of the game and rich pastures of Kentucky, he pioneered the way for the farmers to that region. Thence he passed to the frontier of Missouri, where his settlement was long a landmark on the frontier. Here again he helped to open the way for civilization, finding salt licks, and trails, and land. His son was among the earliest trappers in the passes of the Rocky Mountains, and his party are said to have been the first to camp on the present site of Denver. His grandson, Col. A. J. Boone, of Colorado, was a power among the Indians of the Rocky Mountains, and was appointed an agent by the government. Kit Carson's mother was a Boone. Thus this family epitomizes the backwoodsman's advance across the continent.

The farmer's advance came in a distinct series of waves. In Peck's New Guide to the West, published in Boston in 1837, occurs this suggestive passage:

Generally, in all the western settlements, three classes, like the waves of the ocean, have rolled one after the other. First comes the pioneer, who depends for the subsistence of his family chiefly upon the natural growth of vegetation, called the 'range' and the proceeds of hunting. His implements of agriculture are rude, chiefly of his own make, and his efforts directed mainly to a crop of corn and a 'truck patch.' The last is a rude garden for growing cabbage, beans, corn for roasting ears, cucumbers, and potatoes. A log cabin, and, occasionally, a stable and corn-crib, and a field of a dozen acres, the timber girdled or 'deadened,' and fenced, are enough for his occupancy. It is quite immaterial whether he ever becomes the owner of the soil. He is the occupant for the time being, pays no rent, and feels as independent as the 'lord of the manor.' With a horse, cow, and one or two breeders of swine, he strikes into the woods with his family, and becomes the founder of a new county, or perhaps state. He builds his cabin, gathers around him a few other families of similar tastes and habits, and occupies till the range is somewhat subdued, and hunting a little precarious, or, which is more frequently the case, till the neighbors crowd around, roads, bridges, and fields annoy him, and he lacks elbow room. The pre-emption law enables him to dispose of his cabin and cornfield to the next class of emigrants; and, to employ his own figures, he 'breaks for the high timber,' 'clears out for the New Purchase,' or migrates to Arkansas or Texas, to work the same process over.

The next class of emigrants purchase the lands, add field to field, clear out the roads, throw rough bridges over the streams, put up hewn log houses with glass windows and brick or stone chimneys, occasionally plant orchards, build mills, school-houses, court-houses, etc., and exhibit the picture and forms of plain, frugal, civilized life.

Another wave rolls on. The men of capital and enterprise come. The settler is ready to sell out and take the advantage of the rise in property, push farther into the interior and become, himself, a man of capital and enterprise in turn. The small village rises to a spacious town or city; substantial edifices of brick, extensive fields, orchards, gardens, colleges, and churches are seen. Broadcloths, silks, leghorns, crapes, and all the refinements, luxuries, elegancies, frivolities, and fashions are in vogue. Thus wave after wave is rolling westward; the real Eldorado is still farther on.

A portion of the two first classes remain stationary amidst the general movement, improve their habits and condition, and rise in the scale of society.

The writer has traveled much amongst the first class, the real pioneers. He has lived many years in connection with the second grade; and now the third wave is sweeping over large districts of Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri. Migration has become almost a habit in the West. Hundreds of men can be found, not over 50 years of age, who have settled for the fourth, fifth, or sixth time on a new spot. To sell out and remove only a few hundred miles makes up a portion of the variety of backwoods life and manners.

Omitting those of the pioneer farmers who move from the love of adventure, the advance of the more steady farmer is easy to understand. Obviously the immigrant was attracted by the cheap lands of the frontier, and even the native farmer felt their influence strongly. Year by year the farmers who lived on soil whose returns were diminished by unrotated crops were offered the virgin soil of the frontier at nominal prices. Their growing families demanded more lands, and these were dear. The competition of the unexhausted, cheap, and easily tilled prairie lands compelled the farmer either to go west and continue the exhaustion of the soil on a new frontier, or to adopt intensive culture. Thus the census of 1890 shows, in the Northwest, many counties in which there is an absolute or a relative decrease of population. These States have been sending farmers to advance the frontier on the plains, and have themselves begun to turn to intensive farming and to manufacture. A decade before this, Ohio had shown the same transition stage. Thus the demand for land and the love of wilderness freedom drew the frontier ever onward.

Having now roughly outlined the various kinds of frontiers, and their modes of advance, chiefly from the point of view of the frontier itself, we may next inquire what were the influences on the East and on the Old World. A rapid enumeration of some of the more noteworthy effects is all that I have time for.

First, we note that the frontier promoted the formation of a composite nationality for the American people. The coast was preponderantly English, but the later tides of continental immigration flowed across to the free lands. This was the case from the early colonial days. The Scotch-Irish and the Palatine Germans, or 'Pennsylvania Dutch,' furnished the dominant element in the stock of the colonial frontier. With these peoples were also the freed indented servants, or redemptioners, who at the expiration of their time of service passed to the frontier. Governor Spotswood of Virginia writes in 1717, 'The inhabitants of our frontiers are composed generally of such as have been transported hither as servants, and, being out of their time, settle themselves where land is to be taken up and that will produce the necessarys of life with little labour.' Very generally these redemptioners were of non-English stock. In the crucible of the frontier the immigrants were Americanized, liberated, and fused into a mixed race, English in neither nationality nor characteristics. The process has gone on from the early days to our own. Burke and other writers in the middle of the eighteenth century believed that Pennsylvania was 'threatened with the danger of being wholly foreign in language, manners, and perhaps even inclinations.' The German and Scotch-Irish elements in the frontier of the South were only less great. In the middle of the present century the German element in Wisconsin was already so considerable that leading publicists looked to the creation of a German state out of the commonwealth by concentrating their colonization. Such examples teach us to beware of misinterpreting the fact that there is a common English speech in America into a belief that the stock is also English.

In another way the advance of the frontier decreased our dependence on England. The coast, particularly of the South, lacked diversified industries, and was dependent on England for the bulk of its supplies. In the South there was even a dependence on the Northern colonies for articles of food. Governor Glenn, of South Carolina, writes in the middle of the eighteenth century: 'Our trade with New York and Philadelphia was of this sort, draining us of all the little money and bills we could gather from other places for their bread, flour, beer, hams, bacon, and other things of their produce, all which, except beer, our new townships begin to supply us with, which are settled with very industrious and thriving Germans. This no doubt diminishes the number of shipping and the appearance of our trade, but it is far from being a detriment to us.' Before long the frontier created a demand for merchants. As it retreated from the coast it became less and less possible for England to bring her supplies directly to the consumer's wharfs, and carry away staple crops, and staple crops began to give way to diversified agriculture for a time. The effect of this phase of the frontier action upon the northern section is perceived when we realize how the advance of the frontier aroused seaboard cities like Boston, New York, and Baltimore, to engage in rivalry for what Washington called 'the extensive and valuable trade of a rising empire.'

The legislation which most developed the powers of the national government, and played the largest part in its activity, was conditioned on the frontier. Writers have discussed the subjects of tariff, land, and internal improvement, as subsidiary to the slavery question. But when American history comes to be rightly viewed it will be seen that the slavery question is an incident. In the period from the end of the first half of the present century to the close of the Civil War slavery rose to primary, but far from exclusive, importance. But this does not justify Dr von Hoist (to take an example) in treating our constitutional history in its formative period down to 1828 in a single volume, giving six volumes chiefly to the history of slavery from 1828 to 1861, under the title 'Constitutional History of the United States.' The growth of nationalism and the evolution of American political institutions were dependent on the advance of the frontier. Even so recent a writer as Rhodes, in his 'History of the United States since the Compromise of 1850,' has treated the legislation called out by the western advance as incidental to the slavery struggle.

This is a wrong perspective. The pioneer needed the goods of the coast, and so the grand series of internal improvement and railroad legislation began, with potent nationalizing effects. Over internal improvements occurred great debates, in which grave constitutional questions were discussed. Sectional groupings appear in the votes, profoundly significant for the historian. Loose construction increased as the nation marched westward. But the West was not content with bringing the farm to the factory. Under the lead of Clay - 'Harry of the West' -protective tariffs were passed, with the cry of bringing the factory to the farm. The disposition of the public lands was a third important subject of national legislation influenced by the frontier.

The public domain has been a force of profound importance in the nationalization and development of the government. The effects of the struggle of the landed and the landless States, and of the Ordinance of 1787, need no discussion. Administratively the frontier called out some of the highest and most vitalizing activities of the general government. The purchase of Louisiana was perhaps the constitutional turning point in the history of the Republic, inasmuch as it afforded both a new area for national legislation and the occasion of the downfall of the policy of strict construction. But the purchase of Louisiana was called out by frontier needs and demands. As frontier States accrued to the Union the national power grew. In a speech on the dedication of the Calhoun monument Mr Lamar explained: 'In 1789 the States were the creators of the Federal Government; in 1861 the Federal Government was the creator of a large majority of the States.'

When we consider the public domain from the point of view of the sale and disposal of the public lands we are again brought face to face with the frontier. The policy of the United States in dealing with its lands is in sharp contrast with the European system of scientific administration. Efforts to make this domain a source of revenue, and to withhold it from emigrants in order that settlement might be compact, were in vain. The jealousy and the fears of the East were powerless in the face of the demands of the frontiersmen. John Quincy Adams was obliged to confess: 'My own system of administration, which was to make the national domain the inexhaustible fund for progressive and unceasing internal improvement, has failed.' The reason is obvious; a system of administration was not what the West demanded; it wanted land. Adams states the situation as follows: 'The slaveholders of the South have bought the cooperation of the western country by the bribe of the western lands, abandoning to the new Western States their own proportion of the public property and aiding them in the design of grasping all the lands into their own hands. Thomas H. Benton was the author of this system, which he brought forward as a substitute for the American system of Mr Clay, and to supplant him as the leading statesman of the West. Mr Clay, by his tariff compromise with Mr Calhoun, abandoned his own American system. At the same time he brought forward a plan for distributing among all the States of the Union the proceeds of the sales of the public lands. His bill for that purpose passed both House of Congress, but was vetoed by President Jackson, who, in his annual message of December, 1832, formally recommended that all public lands should be gratuitously given away to individual adventurers and to the States in which the lands are situated.'

'No subject,' said Henry Clay, 'which has presented itself to the present, or perhaps any preceding, Congress, is of greater magnitude than that of the public lands.' When we consider the far-reaching effects of the government's land policy upon political, economic, and social aspects of American life, we are disposed to agree with him. But this legislation was framed under frontier influences, and under the lead of Western statesmen like Benton and Jackson. Said Senator Scott of Indiana in 1841: 'I consider the pre-emption law merely declaratory of the custom or common law of the settlers.'

It is safe to say that the legislation with regard to land, tariff, and internal improvements - the American system of the nationalizing Whig party - was conditioned on frontier ideas and needs. But it was not merely in legislative action that the frontier worked against the sectionalism of the coast. The economic and social characteristics of the frontier worked against sectionalism. The men of the frontier had closer resemblances to the Middle region than to either of the other sections. Pennsylvania had been the seed-plot of frontier emigration, and, although she passed on her settlers along the Great Valley into the west of Virginia and the Caro-linas, yet the industrial society of these Southern frontiersmen was always more like that of the Middle region than like that of the tide-water portion of the South, which later came to spread its industrial type throughout the South.

The Middle region, entered by New York harbor, was an open door to all Europe. The tide-water part of the South represented typical Englishmen, modified by a warm climate and servile labor, and living in baronial fashion on great plantations; New England stood for a special English movement - Puritanism. The Middle region was less English than the other sections. It had a wide mixture of nationalities, a varied society, the mixed town and county system of local government, a varied economic life, many religious sects. In short, it was a region mediating between New England and the South, and the East and the West. It represented that composite nationality which the contemporary United States exhibits, that juxtaposition of non-English groups, occupying a valley or a little settlement, and presenting reflections of the map of Europe in their variety. It was democratic and nonsectional, if not national; 'easy, tolerant, and contented;' rooted strongly in material prosperity. It was typical of the modern United States. It was least sectional, not only because it lay between North and South, but also because with no barriers to shut out its frontiers from its settled region, and with a system of connecting waterways, the Middle region mediated between East and West as well as between North and South. Thus it became the typically American region. Even the New Englander, who was shut out from the frontier by the Middle region, tarrying in New York or Pennsylvania on his westward march, lost the acuteness of his sectionalism on the way.

The spread of cotton culture into the interior of the South finally broke down the contrast between the 'tide-water' region and the rest of the State, and based Southern interests on slavery. Before this process revealed its results the western portion of the South, which was akin to Pennsylvania in stock, society, and industry, showed tendencies to fall away from the faith of the fathers into internal improvement legislation and nationalism. In the Virginia convention of 1829-30, called to revise the constitution, Mr Leigh, of Chesterfield, one of the tide-water counties, declared:

One of the main causes of discontent which led to this convention, that which had the strongest influence in overcoming our veneration for the work of our fathers, which taught us to contemn the sentiments of Henry and Mason and Pendleton, which weaned us from our reverence for the constituted authorities of the State, was an overweening passion for internal improvement. I say this with perfect knowledge, for it has been avowed to me by gentlemen from the West over and over again. And let me tell the gentleman from Albemarle (Mr Gordon) that it has been another principal object of those who set this ball of revolution in motion, to overturn the doctrine of State rights, of which Virginia has been the very pillar, and to remove the barrier she has interposed to the interference of the Federal Government in that same work of internal improvement, by so reorganizing the legislature that Virginia, too, may be hitched to the Federal car.

It was this nationalizing tendency of the West that transformed the democracy of Jefferson into the national republicanism of Monroe and the democracy of Andrew Jackson. The West of the War of 1812, the West of Clay, and Benton and Harrison, and Andrew Jackson, shut off by the Middle States and the mountains from the coast sections, had a solidarity of its own with national tendencies. On the tide of the Father of Waters, North and South met and mingled into a nation. Interstate migration went steadily on - a process of cross-fertilization of ideas and institutions. The fierce struggle of the sections over slavery on the western frontier does not diminish the truth of this statement; it proves the truth of it. Slavery was a sectional trait that would not lie down, but in the West it could not remain sectional. It was the greatest of frontiersmen who declared: 'I believe this Government can not endure permanently half slave and half free. It will become all of one thing or all of the other.' Nothing works for nationalism like intercourse within the nation. Mobility of population is death to localism, and the western frontier worked irresistibly in unsettling population. The effect reached back from the frontier and affected profoundly the Atlantic coast and even the Old World.

But the most important effect of the frontier has been in the promotion of democracy here and in Europe. As has been indicated, the frontier is productive of individualism. Complex society is precipitated by the wilderness into a kind of primitive organization based on the family. The tendency is anti-social. It produces antipathy to control, and particularly to any direct control. The tax-gatherer is viewed as a representative of oppression. Prof. Osgood, in an able article, has pointed out that the frontier conditions prevalent in the colonies are important factors in the explanation of the American Revolution, where individual liberty was sometimes confused with absence of all effective government. The same conditions aid in explaining the difficulty of instituting a strong government in the period of the confederacy. The frontier individualism has from the beginning promoted democracy.

The frontier States that came into the Union in the first quarter of a century of its existence came in with democratic suffrage provisions, and had reactive effects of the highest importance upon the older States whose peoples were being attracted there. An extension of the franchise became essential. It was western New York that forced an extension of suffrage in the constitutional convention of that State in 1821; and it was western Virginia that compelled the tide-water region to put a more liberal suffrage provision in the constitution framed in 1830, and to give to the frontier region a more nearly proportionate representation with the tide-water aristocracy. The rise of democracy as an effective force in the nation came in with western preponderance under Jackson and William Henry Harrison, and it meant the triumph of the frontier - with all of its good and with all of its evil elements. An interesting illustration of the tone of frontier democracy in 1830 comes from the same debates in the Virginia convention already referred to. A representative from western Virginia declared:

But, sir, it is not the increase of population in the West which this gentleman ought to fear. It is the energy which the mountain breeze and western habits impart to those emigrants. They are regenerated, politically I mean, sir. They soon become working politicians; and the difference, sir, between a talking and a working politician is immense. The Old Dominion has long been celebrated for producing great orators; the ablest metaphysicians in policy; men that can split hairs in all abstruse questions of political economy. But at home, or when they return from Congress, they have negroes to fan them asleep. But a Pennsylvania, a New York, an Ohio, or a western Virginia statesman, though far inferior in logic, metaphysics, and rhetoric to an old Virginia statesman, has this advantage, that when he returns home he takes off his coat and takes hold of the plow. This gives him bone and muscle, sir, and preserves his republican principles pure and uncontaminated.

So long as free land exists, the opportunity for a competency exists, and economic power secures political power. But the democracy born of free land, strong in selfishness and individualism, intolerant of administrative experience and education, and pressing individual liberty beyond its proper bounds, has its dangers as well as its benefits. Individualism in America has allowed a laxity in regard to governmental affairs which has rendered possible the spoils system and all the manifest evils that follow from the lack of a highly developed civic spirit. In this connection may be noted also the influence of frontier conditions in permitting lax business honor, inflated paper currency and wild-cat banking. The colonial and revolutionary frontier was the region whence emanated many of the worst forms of an evil currency. The West in the War of 1812 repeated the phenomenon on the frontier of that day, while the speculation and wild-cat banking of the period of the crisis of 1837 occurred on the new frontier belt of the next tier of States. Thus each one of the periods of lax financial integrity coincides with periods when a new set of frontier communities had arisen, and coincides in area with these successive frontiers, for the most part. The recent Populist agitation is a case in point. Many a State that now declines any connection with the tenets of the Populists, itself adhered to such ideas in an earlier stage of the development of the State. A primitive society can hardly be expected to show the intelligent appreciation of the complexity of business interests in a developed society. The continual recurrence of these areas of paper-money agitation is another evidence that the frontier can The Significance of the Frontier in American History be isolated and studied as a factor in American history of the highest importance.[1]

The East has always feared the result of an unregulated advance of the frontier, and has tried to check and guide it. The English authorities would have checked settlement at the headwaters of the Atlantic tributaries and allowed the 'savages to enjoy their deserts in quiet lest the peltry trade should decrease.' This called out Burke's splendid protest:

If you stopped your grants, what would be the consequence? The people would occupy without grants. They have already so occupied in many places. You can not station garrisons in every part of these deserts. If you drive the people from one place, they will carry on their annual tillage and remove with their flocks and herds to another. Many of the people in the back settlements are already little attached to particular situations. Already they have topped the Appalachian Mountains. From thence they behold before them an immense plain, one vast, rich, level meadow; a square of five hundred miles. Over this they would wander without a possibility of restraint; they would change their manners with their habits of life; would soon forget a government by which they were disowned; would become hordes of English Tartars; and, pouring down upon your unfortified frontiers a fierce and irresistible cavalry, become masters of your governors and your counselers, your collectors and comptrollers, and of all the slaves that adhered to them. Such would, and in no long time must, be the effect of attempting to forbid as a crime and to suppress as an evil the command and blessing of Providence, 'Increase and multiply.' Such would be the happy result of an endeavor to keep as a lair of wild beasts that earth which God, by an express charter, has given to the children of men.

But the English Government was not alone in its desire to limit the advance of the frontier and guide its destinies. Tidewater Virginia and South Carolina gerrymandered those colonies to insure the dominance of the coast in their legislatures. Washington desired to settle a State at a time in the Northwest; Jefferson would reserve from settlement the territory of his Louisiana Purchase north of the thirty-second parallel, in order to offer it to the Indians in exchange for their settlements east of the Mississippi. 'When we shall be full on this side,' he writes, we may lay off a range of States on the western bank from the head to the mouth, and so range after range, advancing compactly as we multiply.' Madison went so far as to argue to the French minister that the United States had no interest in seeing population extend itself on the right bank of the Mississippi, but should rather fear it. When the Oregon question was under debate, in 1824, Smyth, of Virginia, would draw an unchangeable line for the limits of the United States at the outer limit of two tiers of States beyond the Mississippi, complaining that the seaboard States were being drained of the flower of their population by the bringing of too much land into market. Even Thomas Benton, the man of widest views of the destiny of the West, at this stage of his career declared that along the ridge of the Rocky Mountains 'the western limits of the Republic should be drawn, and the statue of the fabled god Terminus should be raised upon its highest peak, never to be thrown down.' But the attempts to limit the boundaries, to restrict land sales and settlement, and to deprive the West of its share of political power were all in vain. Steadily the frontier of settlement advanced and carried with it individualism, democracy, and nationalism, and powerfully affected the East and the Old World.

The most effective efforts of the East to regulate the frontier came through its educational and religious activity, exerted by interstate migration and by organized societies. Speaking in 1835, Dr Lyman Beecher declared: Tt is equally plain that the religious and political destiny of our nation is to be decided in the West,' and he pointed out that the population of the West 'is assembled from all the States of the Union and from all the nations of Europe, and is rushing in like the water of the flood, demanding for its moral preservation the immediate and universal action of those institutions which discipline the mind and arm the conscience and the heart. And so various are the opinions and habits, and so recent and imperfect is the acquaintance, and so sparse are the settlements of the West, that no homogeneous public sentiment can be formed to legislate immediately into being the requisite institutions. And yet they are all needed immediately in their utmost perfection and power. A nation is being "born in a day." … But what will become of the West if her prosperity rushes up to such a majesty of power, while those great institutions linger which are necessary to form the mind and the conscience and the heart of that vast world. It must not be permitted … Let no man at the East quiet himself and dream of liberty, whatever may become of the West… Her destiny is our destiny.'

With the appeal to the conscience of New England, he adds appeals to her fears lest other religious sects anticipate her own. The New England preacher and school-teacher left their mark on the West. The dread of Western emancipation from New England's political and economic control was paralleled by her fears lest the West cut loose from her religion. Commenting in 1850 on reports that settlement was rapidly extending northward in Wisconsin, the editor of the Home Missionary writes: 'We scarcely know whether to rejoice or mourn over this extension of our settlements. While we sympathize in whatever tends to increase the physical resources and prosperity of our country, we can not forget that with all these dispersions into remote and still remoter corners of the land the supply of the means of grace is becoming relatively less and less.' Acting in accordance with such ideas, home missions were established and Western colleges were erected. As seaboard cities like Philadelphia, New York, and Baltimore strove for the mastery of Western trade, so the various denominations strove for the possession of the West. Thus an intellectual stream from New England sources fertilized the West. Other sections sent their missionaries; but the real struggle was between sects. The contest for power and the expansive tendency furnished to the various sects by the existence of a moving frontier must have had important results on the character of religious organization in the United States. The multiplication of rival churches in the little frontier towns had deep and lasting social effects. The religious aspects of the frontier make a chapter in our history which needs study.

From the conditions of frontier life came intellectual traits of profound importance. The works of travelers along each frontier from colonial days onward describe certain common traits, and these traits have, while softening down, still persisted as survivals in the place of their origin, even when a higher social organization succeeded. The result is that to the frontier the American intellect owes its striking characteristics. That coarseness and strength combined with acuteness and inquisitive-ness; that practical, inventive turn of mind, quick to find expedients; that masterful grasp of material things, lacking in the artistic but powerful to effect great ends; that restless, nervous energy; that dominant individualism, working for good and for evil, and withal that buoyancy and exuberance which comes with freedom -these are traits of the frontier, or traits called out elsewhere because of the existence of the frontier. Since the days when the fleet of Columbus sailed into the waters of the New World, America has been another name for opportunity, and the people of the United States have taken their tone from the incessant expansion which has not only been open but has even been forced upon them. He would be a rash prophet who should assert that the expansive character of American life has now entirely ceased. Movement has been its dominant fact, and, unless this training has no effect upon a people, the American energy will continually demand a wider field for its exercise. But never again will such gifts of free land offer themselves. For a moment, at the frontier, the bonds of custom are broken and unrestraint is triumphant. There is not tabula rasa. The stubborn American environment is there with its imperious summons to accept its conditions; the inherited ways of doing things are also there; and yet, in spite of environment, and in spite of custom, each frontier did indeed furnish a new field of opportunity, a gate of escape from the bondage of the past; and freshness, and confidence, and scorn of older society, impatience of its restraints and its ideas, and indifference to its lessons, have accompanied the frontier. What the Mediterranean Sea was to the Greeks, breaking the bond of custom, offering new experiences, calling out new institutions and activities, that, and more, the ever retreating frontier has been to the United States directly, and to the nations of Europe more remotely. And now, four centuries from the discovery of America, at the end of a hundred years of life under the Constitution, the frontier has gone, and with its going has closed the first period of American history.

————————————————————

[1] I have refrained from dwelling on the lawless characteristics of the frontier, because they are sufficiently well known. The gambler and desperado, the regulators of the Carolinas and the vigilantes of California, are types of that line of scum that the waves of advancing civilization bore before them, and of the growth of spontaneous organs of authority where legal authority was absent. The humor, bravery, and rude strength, as well as the vices of the frontier in its worst aspect, have left traces on American character, language, and literature, not soon to be effaced.

II

The Problem of the West (1896)

The problem of the West is nothing less than the problem of American development. A glance at the map of the United States reveals the truth. To write of a 'Western sectionalism,' bounded on the east by the Alleghanies, is, in itself, to proclaim the writer a provincial. What is the West? What has it been in American life? To have the answers to these questions, is to understand the most significant features of the United States of to-day.

The West, at bottom, is a form of society, rather than an area. It is the term applied to the region whose social conditions result from the application of older institutions and ideas to the transforming influences of free land. By this application, a new environment is suddenly entered, freedom of opportunity is opened, the cake of custom is broken, and new activities, new lines of growth, new institutions and new ideals, are brought into existence. The wilderness disappears, the 'West' proper passes on to a new frontier, and in the former area, a new society has emerged from its contact with the backwoods. Gradually this society loses its primitive conditions, and assimilates itself to the type of the older social conditions of the East; but it bears within it enduring and distinguishing survivals of its frontier experience. Decade after decade, West after West, this rebirth of American society has gone on, has left its traces behind it, and has reacted on the East. The history of our political institutions, our democracy, is not a history of imitation, of simple borrowing; it is a history of the evolution and adaptation of organs in response to changed environment, a history of the origin of new political species. In this sense, therefore, the West has been a constructive force of the highest significance in our life. To use the words of that acute and widely informed observer, Mr Bryce, 'The West is the most American part of America… What Europe is to Asia, what America is to England, that the Western States and Territories are to the Atlantic States.'

The West, as a phase of social organization, began with the Atlantic coast, and passed across the continent. But the colonial tide-water area was in close touch with the Old World, and soon lost its Western aspects. In the middle of the eighteenth century, the newer social conditions appeared along the upper waters of the tributaries of the Atlantic. Here it was that the West took on its distinguishing features, and transmitted frontier traits and ideals to this area in later days. On the coast, were the fishermen and skippers, the merchants and planters, with eyes turned toward Europe. Beyond the falls of the rivers were the pioneer farmers, largely of non-English stock, Scotch-Irish and German. They constituted a distinct people, and may be regarded as an expansion of the social and economic life of the middle region into the back country of the South. These frontiersmen were the ancestors of Boone, Andrew Jackson, Calhoun, Clay, and Lincoln. Washington and Jefferson were profoundly affected by these frontier conditions. The forest clearings have been the seed plots of American character.

In the Revolutionary days, the settlers crossed the Alleghanies and put a barrier between them and the coast. They became, to use their phrases, 'the men of the Western waters,' the heirs of the 'Western world.' In this era, the backwoodsmen, all along the western slopes of the mountains, with a keen sense of the difference between them and the dwellers on the coast, demanded organization into independent States of the Union. Self-government was their ideal. Said one of their rude, but energetic petitions for statehood: 'Some of our fellow-citizens may think we are not able to conduct our affairs and consult our interests; but if our society is rude, much wisdom is not necessary to supply our wants, and a fool can sometimes put on his clothes better than a wise man can do it for him.' This forest philosophy is the philosophy of American democracy. But the men of the coast were not ready to admit its implications. They apportioned the State legislatures so that the property-holding minority of the tidewater lands were able to out vote the more populous back countries. A similar system was proposed by Federalists in the constitutional convention of 1787. Gouverneur Morris, arguing in favor of basing representation on property as well as numbers, declared that 'he looked forward, also, to that range of new States which would soon be formed in the West. He thought the rule of representation ought to be so fixed, as to secure to the Atlantic States a prevalence in the national councils.' 'The new States,' said he, 'will know less of the public interest than these; will have an interest in many respects different; in particular will be little scrupulous of involving the community in wars, the burdens and operations of which would fall chiefly on the maritime States. Provision ought, therefore, to be made to prevent the maritime States from being hereafter outvoted by them.' He added that the Western country 'would not be able to furnish men equally enlightened to share in the administration of our common interests. The busy haunts of men, not the remote wilderness, was the proper school of political talents. If the Western people get power into their hands, they will ruin the Atlantic interest. The back members are always most averse to the best measures.' Add to these utterances of Gouverneur Morris the impassioned protest of Josiah Quincy, of Massachusetts, in the debates in the House of Representatives, on the admission of Louisiana. Referring to the discussion over the slave votes and the West in the constitutional convention, he declared, 'Suppose, then, that it had been distinctly foreseen that, in addition to the effect of this weight, the whole population of a world beyond the Mississippi was to be brought into this and the other branch of the legislature, to form our laws, control our rights, and decide our destiny. Sir, can it be pretended that the patriots of that day would for one moment have listened to it?… They had not taken degrees at the hospital of idiocy … Why, sir, I have already heard of six States, and some say there will be, at no great distant time, more. I have also heard that the mouth of the Ohio will be far to the east of the center of the contemplated empire … You have no authority to throw the rights and property of this people into "hotch-pot" with the wild men on the Missouri, nor with the mixed, though more respectable, race of Anglo-Hispano-Gallo-Americans who bask on the sands in the mouth of the Mississippi… Do you suppose the people of the Northern and Atlantic States will, or ought to, look on with patience and see Representatives and Senators from the Red River and Missouri, pouring themselves upon this and the other floor, managing the concerns of a seaboard fifteen hundred miles, at least, from their residence; and having a preponderancy in councils into which, constitutionally, they could never have been admitted?'

Like an echo from the fears expressed by the East at the close of the eighteenth century come the words of an eminent Eastern man of letters at the end of the nineteenth century, in warning against the West: 'Materialized in their temper; with few ideals of an ennobling sort; little instructed in the lessons of history; safe from exposure to the direct calamities and physical horrors of war; with undeveloped imaginations and sympathies - they form a community unfortunate and dangerous from the possession of power without a due sense of its corresponding responsibilities; a community in which the passion for war may easily be excited as the fancied means by which its greatness may be convincingly exhibited, and its ambitions gratified … Some chance spark may fire the prairie.'

Here, then, is the problem of the West, as it looked to New England leaders of thought in the beginning and at the end of this century. From the first, it was recognized that a new type was growing up beyond the seaboard, and that the time would come when the destiny of the nation would be in Western hands. The divergence of these societies became clear in the struggle over the ratification of the federal constitution. The up-country agricultural regions, the communities that were in debt and desired paper money, with some Western exceptions, opposed the instrument; but the areas of intercourse and property carried the day.

It is important to understand, therefore, what were some of the ideals of this early Western democracy. How did the frontiersman differ from the man of the coast?

The most obvious fact regarding the man of the Western Waters is that he had placed himself under influences destructive to many of the gains of civilization. Remote from the opportunity for systematic education, substituting a log hut in the forest-clearing for the social comforts of the town, he suffered hardships and privations, and reverted in many ways to primitive conditions of life. Engaged in a struggle to subdue the forest, working as an individual, and with little specie or capital, his interests were with the debtor class. At each stage of its advance, the West has favored an expansion of the currency. The pioneer had boundless confidence in the future of his own community, and when seasons of financial contraction and depression occurred, he, who had staked his all on confidence in Western development, and had fought the savage for his home, was inclined to reproach the conservative sections and classes. To explain this antagonism requires more than denunciation of dishonesty, ignorance, and boorishness as fundamental Western traits. Legislation in the United States has had to deal with two distinct social conditions. In some portions of the country there was, and is, an aggregation of property, and vested rights are in the foreground: in others, capital is lacking, more primitive conditions prevail, with different economic and social ideals, and the contentment of the average individual is placed in the foreground. That in the conflict between these two ideals an even hand has always been held by the government would be difficult to show.

The separation of the Western man from the seaboard, and his environment, made him in a large degree free from European precedents and forces. He looked at things independently and with small regard or appreciation for the best Old World experience. He had no ideal of a philosophical, eclectic nation, that should advance civilization by 'intercourse with foreigners and familiarity with their point of view, and readiness to adopt whatever is best and most suitable in their ideas, manners, and customs.' His was rather the ideal of conserving and developing what was original and valuable in this new country. The entrance of old society upon free lands meant to him opportunity for a new type of democracy and new popular ideals. The West was not conservative: buoyant self-confidence and self-assertion were distinguishing traits in its composition. It saw in its growth nothing less than a new order of society and state. In this conception were elements of evil and elements of good.

But the fundamental fact in regard to this new society was its relation to land. Professor Boutmy has said of the United States, 'Their one primary and predominant object is to cultivate and settle these prairies, forests, and vast waste lands. The striking and peculiar characteristic of American society is that it is not so much a democracy as a huge commercial company for the discovery, cultivation, and capitalization of its enormous territory. The United States are primarily a commercial society, and only secondarily a nation.' Of course, this involves a serious misapprehension. By the very fact of the task here set forth, far-reaching ideals of the state and of society have been evolved in the West, accompanied by loyalty to the nation representative of these ideals. But M. Boutmy's description hits the substantial fact, that the fundamental traits of the man of the interior were due to the free lands of the West. These turned his attention to the great task of subduing them to the purposes of civilization, and to the task of advancing his economic and social status in the new democracy which he was helping to create. Art, literature, refinement, scientific administration, all had to give way to this Titanic labor. Energy, incessant activity, became the lot of this new American. Says a traveler of the time of Andrew Jackson, 'America is like a vast workshop, over the door of which is printed in blazing characters, "No admittance here, except on business."' The West of our own day reminds Mr Bryce 'of the crowd which Vathek found in the hall of Eblis, each darting hither and thither with swift steps and unquiet mien, driven to and fro by a fire in the heart. Time seems too short for what they have to do, and the result always to come short of their desire.'

But free lands and the consciousness of working out their social destiny did more than turn the Westerner to material interests and devote him to a restless existence. They promoted equality among the Western settlers, and reacted as a check on the aristocratic influences of the East. Where everybody could have a farm, almost for taking it, economic equality easily resulted, and this involved political equality. Not without a struggle would the Western man abandon this ideal, and it goes far to explain the unrest in the remote West to-day.

Western democracy included individual liberty, as well as equality. The frontiersman was impatient of restraints. He knew how to preserve order, even in the absence of legal authority. If there were cattle thieves, lynch law was sudden and effective: the regulators of the Carolinas were the predecessors of the claims associations of Iowa and the vigilance committees of California. But the individual was not ready to submit to complex regulations. Population was sparse, there was no multitude of jostling interests, as in older settlements, demanding an elaborate system of personal restraints. Society became atomic. There was a reproduction of the primitive idea of the personality of the law, a crime was more an offense against the victim than a violation of the law of the land. Substantial justice, secured in the most direct way, was the ideal of the backwoodsman. He had little patience with finely drawn distinctions or scruples of method. If the thing was one proper to be done, then the most immediate, rough and ready, effective way was the best way.

It followed from the lack of organized political life, from the atomic conditions of the backwoods society, that the individual was exalted and given free play. The West was another name for opportunity. Here were mines to be seized, fertile valleys to be pre-empted, all the natural resources open to the shrewdest and the boldest. The United States is unique in the extent to which the individual has been given an open field, unchecked by restraints of an old social order, or of scientific administration of government. The self-made man was the Western man's ideal, was the kind of man that all men might become. Out of his wilderness experience, out of the freedom of his opportunities, he fashioned a formula for social regeneration - the freedom of the individual to seek his own. He did not consider that his conditions were exceptional and temporary.

Under such conditions, leadership easily develops -a leadership based on the possession of the qualities most serviceable to the young society. In the history of Western settlement, we see each forted village following its local hero. Clay, Jackson, Harrison, Lincoln, were illustrations of this tendency in periods when the Western hero rose to the dignity of national hero.

The Western man believed in the manifest destiny of his country. On his border, and checking his advance, were the Indian, the Spaniard, and the Englishman. He was indignant at Eastern indifference and lack of sympathy with his view of his relations to these peoples; at the short-sightedness of Eastern policy. The closure of the Mississippi by Spain, and the proposal to exchange our claim of freedom of navigating the river, in return for commercial advantages to New England, nearly led to the withdrawal of the West from the Union. It was the Western demands that brought about the purchase of Louisiana, and turned the scale in favor of declaring the War of 1812. Militant qualities were favored by the annual expansion of the settled area in the face of hostile Indians and the stubborn wilderness. The West caught the vision of the nation's continental destiny. Henry Adams, in his History of the United States, makes the American of 1800 exclaim to the foreign visitor, 'Look at my wealth! See these solid mountains of salt and iron, of lead, copper, silver, and gold. See these magnificent cities scattered broadcast to the Pacific! See my cornfields rustling and waving in the summer breeze from ocean to ocean, so far that the sun itself is not high enough to mark where the distant mountains bound my golden seas. Look at this continent of mine, fairest of created worlds, as she lies turning up to the sun's never failing caress her broad and exuberant breasts, overflowing with milk for her hundred million children.' And the foreigner saw only dreary deserts, tenanted by sparse, ague-stricken pioneers and savages. The cities were log huts and gambling dens. But the frontiersman's dream was prophetic. In spite of his rude, gross nature, this early Western man was an idealist withal. He dreamed dreams and beheld visions. He had faith in man, hope for democracy, belief in America's destiny, unbounded confidence in his ability to make his dreams come true. Said Harriet Martineau in 1834, 'I regard the American people as a great embryo poet, now moody, now wild, but bringing out results of absolute good sense: restless and wayward in action, but with deep peace at his heart; exulting that he has caught the true aspect of things past, and the depth of futurity which lies before him, wherein to create something so magnificent as the world has scarcely begun to dream of. There is the strongest hope of a nation that is capable of being possessed with an idea.'

It is important to bear this idealism of the West in mind. The very materialism that has been urged against the West was accompanied by ideals of equality, of the exaltation of the common man, of national expansion, that makes it a profound mistake to write of the West as though it were engrossed in mere material ends. It has been, and is, pre-eminently a region of ideals, mistaken or not.

It is obvious that these economic and social conditions were so fundamental in Western life that they might well dominate whatever accessions came to the West by immigration from the coast sections or from Europe. Nevertheless, the West cannot be understood without bearing in mind the fact that it has received the great streams from the North and from the South, and that the Mississippi compelled these currents to intermingle. Here it was that sectionalism first gave way under the pressure of unification. Ultimately the conflicting ideas and institutions of the old sections struggled for dominance in this area under the influence of the forces that made for uniformity, but this is merely another phase of the truth that the West must become unified, that it could not rest in sectional groupings. For precisely this reason the struggle occurred. In the period from the Revolution to the close of the War of 1812, the democracy of the Southern and Middle States contributed the main streams of settlement and social influence to the West. Even in Ohio political power was soon lost by the New England leaders. The democratic spirit of the Middle region left an indelible impress on the West in this its formative period. After the War of 1812, New England, its supremacy in the carrying trade of the world having vanished, became a hive from which swarms of settlers went out to western New York and the remoter regions.

These settlers spread New England ideals of education and character and political institutions, and acted as a leaven of great significance in the Northwest. But it would be a mistake to believe that an unmixed New England influence took possession of the Northwest. These pioneers did not come from the class that conserved the type of New England civilization pure and undefiled. They represented a less contented, less conservative influence. Moreover, by their sojourn in the Middle Region, on their westward march, they underwent modification, and when the farther West received them, they suffered a forest-change, indeed. The Westernized New England man was no longer the representative of the section that he left. He was less conservative, less provincial, more adaptable and approachable, less rigorous in his Puritan ideals, less a man of culture, more a man of action.

As might have been expected, therefore, the Western men, in the 'era of good feeling,' had much homogeneity throughout the Mississippi Valley, and began to stand as a new national type. Under the lead of Henry Clay they invoked the national government to break down the mountain barrier by internal improvements, and thus to give their crops an outlet to the coast. Under him they appealed to the national government for a protective tariff to create a home market. A group of frontier States entered the Union with democratic provisions respecting the suffrage, and with devotion to the nation that had given them their lands, built their roads and canals, regulated their territorial life, and made them equals in the sisterhood of States. At last these Western forces of aggressive nationalism and democracy took possession of the government in the person of the man who best embodied them, Andrew Jackson. This new democracy that captured the country and destroyed the ideals of statesmanship came from no theorist's dreams of the German forest. It came, stark and strong and full of life, from the American forest. But the triumph of this Western democracy revealed also the fact that it could rally to its aid the laboring classes of the coast, then just beginning to acquire self-consciousness and organization.

The next phase of Western development revealed forces of division between the northern and southern portions of the West. With the spread of the cotton culture went the slave system and the great plantation. The small farmer in his log cabin, raising varied crops, was displaced by the planter raising cotton. In all except the mountainous areas the industrial organization of the tidewater took possession of the Southwest, the unity of the back country was broken, and the solid South was formed. In the Northwest this was the era of railroads and canals, opening the region to the increasing stream of Middle State and New England settlement, and strengthening the opposition to slavery. A map showing the location of the men of New England ancestry in the Northwest would represent also the counties in which the Free Soil party cast its heaviest votes. The commercial connections of the Northwest likewise were reversed by the railroad. The result is stated by a writer in De Bow's Review in 1852 in these words: -

'What is New Orleans now? Where are her dreams of greatness and glory? … Whilst she slept, an enemy has sowed tares in her most prolific fields. Armed with energy, enterprise, and an indomitable spirit, that enemy, by a system of bold, vigorous, and sustained efforts, has succeeded in reversing the very laws of nature and of nature's God, - rolled back the mighty tide of the Mississippi and its thousand tributary streams, until their mouth, practically and commercially, is more at New York or Boston than at New Orleans.'

The West broke asunder, and the great struggle over the social system to be given to the lands beyond the Mississippi followed. In the Civil War the Northwest furnished the national hero - Lincoln was the very flower of frontier training and ideals - and it also took into its hands the whole power of the government. Before the war closed, the West could claim the President, Vice-President, Chief Justice, Speaker of the House, Secretary of the Treasury, Postmaster-General, Attorney-General, General of the army, and Admiral of the navy. The leading generals of the war had been furnished by the West. It was the region of action, and in the crisis it took the reins.

The triumph of the nation was followed by a new era of Western development. The national forces projected themselves across the prairies and plains. Railroads, fostered by government loans and land grants, opened the way for settlement and poured a flood of European immigrants and restless pioneers from all sections of the Union into the government lands. The army of the United States pushed back the Indian, rectangular Territories were carved into checkerboard States, creations of the federal government, without a history, without physiographical unity, without particularistic ideas. The later frontiersman leaned on the strong arm of national power.

At the same time the South underwent a revolution. The plantation, based on slavery, gave place to the farm, the gentry to the democratic elements. As in the West, new industries, of mining and of manufacture, sprang up as by magic. The New South, like the New West, was an area of construction, a debtor area, an area of unrest; and it, too, had learned the uses to which federal legislation might be put.

In the meantime the Old Northwest[1] passed through an economic and social transformation. The whole West furnished an area over which successive waves of economic development have passed. The State of Wisconsin, now much like parts of the State of New York, was at an earlier period like the State of Nebraska of to-day; the Granger movement and Greenback party had for a time the ascendancy; and in the northern counties of the State, where there is a sparser population, and the country is being settled, its sympathies are still with the debtor class. Thus the Old Northwest is a region where the older frontier conditions survive in parts, and where the inherited ways of looking at things are largely to be traced to its frontier days. At the same time it is a region in many ways assimilated to the East. It understands both sections. It is not entirely content with the existing structure of economic society in the sections where wealth has accumulated and corporate organizations are powerful; but neither has it seemed to feel that its interests lie in supporting the program of the prairies and the South. In the Fifty-third Congress it voted for the income tax, but it rejected free coinage. It is still affected by the ideal of the self-made man, rather than by the ideal of industrial nationalism. It is more American, but less cosmopolitan than the seaboard.

We are now in a position to see clearly some of the factors involved in the Western problem. For nearly three centuries the dominant fact in American life has been expansion. With the settlement of the Pacific coast and the occupation of the free lands, this movement has come to a check. That these energies of expansion will no longer operate would be a rash prediction; and the demands for a vigorous foreign policy, for an inter-oceanic canal, for a revival of our power upon the seas, and for the extension of American influence to outlying islands and adjoining countries, are indications that the movement will continue. The stronghold of these demands lies west of the Alleghanies.

In the remoter West, the restless, rushing wave of settlement has broken with a shock against the arid plains. The free lands are gone, the continent is crossed, and all this push and energy is turning into channels of agitation. Failures in one area can no longer be made good by taking up land on a new frontier; the conditions of a settled society are being reached with suddenness and with confusion. The West has been built up with borrowed capital, and the question of the stability of gold, as a standard of deferred payments, is eagerly agitated by the debtor West, profoundly dissatisfied with the industrial conditions that confront it, and actuated by frontier directness and rigor in its remedies. For the most part, the men who built up the West beyond the Mississippi, and who are now leading the agitation, came as pioneers from the old Northwest, in the days when it was just passing from the stage of a frontier section. For example, Senator Allen of Nebraska, president of the recent national Populist Convention, and a type of the political leaders of his section, was born in Ohio in the middle of the century, went in his youth to Iowa, and not long after the Civil War made his home in Nebraska. As a boy, he saw the buffalo driven out by the settlers; he saw the Indian retreat as the pioneer advanced. His training is that of the old West, in its frontier days. And now the frontier opportunities are gone. Discontent is demanding an extension of governmental activity in its behalf. In these demands, it finds itself in touch with the depressed agricultural classes and the working men of the South and East. The Western problem is no longer a sectional problem: it is a social problem on a national scale. The greater West, extending from the Alleghanies to the Pacific, cannot be regarded as a unit; it requires analysis into regions and classes. But its area, its population, and its material resources would give force to its assertion that if there is a sectionalism in the country, the sectionalism is Eastern. The old West, united to the new South, would produce, not a new sectionalism, but a new Americanism. It would not mean sectional disunion, as some have speculated, but it might mean a drastic assertion of national government and imperial expansion under a popular hero.

This, then, is the real situation: a people composed of heterogeneous materials, with diverse and conflicting ideals and social interests, having passed from the task of filling up the vacant spaces of the continent, is now thrown back upon itself, and is seeking an equilibrium. The diverse elements are being fused into national unity. The forces of reorganization are turbulent and the nation seems like a witches' kettle.

But the West has its own centers of industrial life and culture not unlike those of the East. It has State universities, rivaling in conservative and scientific economic instruction those of any other part of the Union, and its citizens more often visit the East, than do Eastern men the West. As time goes on, its industrial development will bring it more into harmony with the East.

Moreover, the Old Northwest holds the balance of power, and is the battlefield on which these issues of American development are to be settled. It has more in common with all parts of the nation than has any other region. It understands the East, as the East does not understand the West. The White City which recently rose on the shores of Lake Michigan fitly typified its growing culture as well as its capacity for great achievement. Its complex and representative industrial organization and business ties, its determination to hold fast to what is original and good in its Western experience, and its readiness to learn and receive the results of the experience of other sections and nations, make it an open-minded and safe arbiter of the American destiny.

In the long run the 'Center of the Republic' may be trusted to strike a wise balance between the contending ideals. But she does not deceive herself; she knows that the problem of the West means nothing less than the problem of working out original social ideals and social adjustments for the American nation.

————————————————————

[1] The present States of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin.

III

The Significance of the Mississippi Valley in American History (1909-1910)

The rise of a company of sympathetic and critical students of history in the South and in the West is bound to revolutionize the perspective of American history. Already our Eastern colleagues are aware in general, if not in detail, of the importance of the work of this nation in dealing with the vast interior, and with the influence of the West upon the nation. Indeed, I might take as the text for this address the words of one of our Eastern historians, Professor Albert Bushnell Hart, who, a decade ago, wrote:

The Mississippi Valley yields to no region in the world in interest, in romance, and in promise for the future. Here, if anywhere, is the real America - the field, the theater, and the basis of the civilization of the Western World. The history of the Mississippi Valley is the history of the United States; its future is the future of one of the most powerful of modern nations.

If those of us who have been insisting on the importance of our own region are led at times by the enthusiasm of the pioneer for the inviting historical domain that opens before us to overstate the importance of our subject, we may at least plead that we have gone no farther than some of our brethren of the East; and we may take comfort in this declaration of Theodore Roosevelt:

The states that have grown up around the Great Lakes and in the Valley of the Upper Mississippi, [are] the states which are destined to be the greatest, the richest, the most prosperous of all the great, rich, and prosperous commonwealths which go to make up the mightiest republic the world has ever seen. These states … form the heart of the country geographically, and they will soon become the heart in population and in political and social importance … I should be sorry to think that before these states there loomed a future of material prosperity merely. I regard this section of the country as the heart of true American sentiment.

In studying the history of the whole Mississippi Valley, therefore, the members of this Association are studying the origins of that portion of the nation which is admitted by competent Eastern authorities to be the section potentially most influential in the future of America. They are also studying the region which has engaged the most vital activities of the whole nation; for the problems arising from the existence of the Mississippi Valley, whether of movement of population, diplomacy, politics, economic development, or social structure, have been fundamental problems in shaping the nation. It is not a narrow, not even a local, interest which determines the mission of this Association. It is nothing less than the study of the American people in the presence and under the influence of the vast spaces, the imperial resources of the great interior. The social destiny of this Valley will be the social destiny, and will mark the place in history, of the United States.

In a large sense, and in the one usually given to it by geographers and historians, the Mississippi Valley includes the whole interior basin, a province which drains into nearly two thousand miles of navigable waters of the Mississippi itself, two thousand miles of the tawny flood of the Missouri, and a thousand miles of the Ohio - five thousand miles of main water highways open to the steamboat, nearly two and a half million square miles of drainage basin, a land greater than all Europe except Russia, Norway, and Sweden, a land of levels, marked by essential geographic unity, a land estimated to be able to support a population of two or three hundred millions, three times the present population of the whole nation, an empire of natural resources in which to build a noble social structure worthy to hold its place as the heart of American industrial, political and spiritual life.

The significance of the Mississippi Valley in American history was first shown in the fact that it opened to various nations visions of power in the New World -visions that sweep across the horizon of historical possibility like the luminous but unsubstantial aurora of a comet's train, portentous and fleeting.

Out of the darkness of the primitive history of the continent are being drawn the evidences of the rise and fall of Indian cultures, the migrations through and into the great Valley by men of the Stone Age, hinted at in legends and languages, dimly told in the records of mounds and artifacts, but waiting still for complete interpretation.

Into these spaces and among the savage peoples, came France and wrote a romantic page in our early history, a page that tells of unfulfilled empire. What is striking in the effect of the Mississippi Valley upon France is the pronounced influence of the unity of its great spaces. It is not without meaning that Radisson and Groseilliers not only reached the extreme of Lake Superior but also, in all probability, entered upon the waters of the Mississippi and learned of its western affluent; that Marquette not only received the Indians of the Illinois region in his post on the shores of Lake Superior, but traversed the length of the Mississippi almost to its mouth, and returning revealed the site of Chicago; that La Salle was inspired with the vision of a huge interior empire reaching from the Gulf to the Great Lakes. Before the close of the seventeenth century, Perrot's influence was supreme in the Upper Mississippi, while D'Iberville was laying the foundations of Louisiana toward the mouth of the river. Nor is it without significance that while the Verendryes were advancing toward the northwest (where they discovered the Big Horn Mountains and revealed the natural boundaries of the Valley) the Mallet brothers were ascending the Platte, crossing the Colorado plains to Santa Fe and so revealing the natural boundaries toward the southwest.

To the English the great Valley was a land beyond the Alleghanies. Spotswood, the far-sighted Governor of Virginia, predecessor of frontier builders, grasped the situation when he proposed western settlements to prevent the French from becoming a great people at the back of the colonies. He realized the importance of the Mississippi Valley as the field for expansion, and the necessity to the English empire of dominating it, if England would remain the great power of the New World.

In the war that followed between France and England, we now see what the men of the time could not have realized: that the main issue was neither the possession of the fisheries nor the approaches to the St Lawrence on the one hemisphere, nor the possession of India on the other, but the mastery of the interior basin of North America.

How little the nations realized the true meaning of the final victory of England is shown in the fact that Spain reluctantly received from France the cession of the lands beyond the Mississippi, accepting it as a means of preventing the infringement of her colonial monopoly in Spanish America rather than as a field for imperial expansion.

But we know now that when George Washington came as a stripling to the camp of the French at the edge of the great Valley and demanded the relinquishment of the French posts in the name of Virginia, he was demanding in the name of the English-speaking people the right to occupy and rule the real center of American resources and power. When Braddock's axmen cut their road from the Potomac toward the forks of the Ohio they were opening a channel through which the forces of civilization should flow with ever increasing momentum and 'carving a cross on the wilderness rim' at the spot which is now the center of industrial power of the American nation.

England trembled on the brink of her great conquest, fearful of the effect of these far-stretching rivers upon her colonial system, timorous in the presence of the fierce peoples who held the vast domain beyond the Alleghanies. It seems clear, however, that the Proclamation of 1763, forbidding settlement and the patenting of lands beyond the Alleghanies, was not intended as a permanent creation of an Indian reservation out of this Valley, but was rather a temporary arrangement in order that British plans might mature and a system of gradual colonization be devised. Already our greatest leaders, men like Washington and Franklin, had been quick to see the importance of this new area for enlarged activities of the American people. A sudden revelation that it was the West, rather than the ocean, which was the real theater for the creative energy of America came with the triumph over France. The Ohio Company and the Loyal Land Company indicate the interest at the outbreak of the war, while the Mississippi Company, headed by the Washingtons and Lees, organized to occupy southern Illinois, Indiana, and western Kentucky, mark the Virginia interest in the Mississippi Valley, and Franklin's activity in promoting a colony in the Illinois country illustrates the interest of the Philadelphians. Indeed, Franklin saw clearly the possibilities of a settlement there as a means of breaking up Spanish America. Writing to his son in 1767 he declared that a 'settlement should be made in the Illinois country … raising a strength there which on occasions of a future war might easily be poured down the Mississippi upon the lower country and into the Bay of Mexico to be used against Cuba, the French Islands, or Mexico itself.'

The Mississippi Valley had been the despair of France in the matter of governmental control. The coureurs de bois escaping from restraints of law and order took their way through its extensive wilderness, exploring and trading as they listed. Similarly, when the English colonists crossed the Alleghanies they escaped from the control of mother colonies as well as of the mother country. If the Mississippi Valley revealed to the statesmen of the East, in the exultation of the war with France, an opportunity for new empire building, it revealed to the frontiersmen, who penetrated the passes of the Alleghanies, and entered into their new inheritance, the sharp distinctions between them and the Eastern lands which they left behind. From the beginning it was clear that the lands beyond the Alleghanies furnished an opportunity and an incentive to develop American society on independent and unconventional lines. The 'men of the Western Waters' broke with the old order of things, subordinated social restraint to the freedom of the individual, won their title to the rich lands which they entered by hard fighting against the Indians, hotly challenged the right of the East to rule them, demanded their own States, and would not be refused, spoke with contempt of the old social order of ranks and classes in the lands between the Alleghanies and the Atlantic, and proclaimed the ideal of democracy for the vast country which they had entered. Not with the mercurial facility of the French did they follow the river systems of the Great Valley. Like the advance of the glacier they changed the face of the country in their steady and inevitable progress, and they sought the sea. It was not long before the Spaniards at the mouth of the river realized the meaning of the new forces that had entered the Valley.

In 1794 the Governor of Louisiana wrote:

This vast and restless population progressively driving the Indian tribes before them and upon us, seek to possess themselves of all the extensive regions which the Indians occupy between the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, the Gulf of Mexico, and the Appalachian Mountains, thus becoming our neighbors, at the same time that they menacingly ask for the free navigation of the Mississippi. If they achieve their object, their ambitions would not be confined to this side of the Mississippi. Their writings, public papers, and speeches, all turn on this point, the free navigation of the Gulf by the rivers … which empty into it, the rich fur trade of the Missouri, and in time the possession of the rich mines of the interior provinces of the very Kingdom of Mexico. Their mode of growth and their policy are as formidable for Spain as their armies … Their roving spirit and the readiness with which they procure sustenance and shelter facilitate rapid settlement. A rifle and a little corn meal in a bag are enough for an American wandering alone in the woods for a month … With logs crossed upon one another he makes a house, and even an impregnable fort against the Indians … Cold does not terrify him, and when a family wearies of one place, it moves to another and settles there with the same ease.

If such men come to occupy the banks of the Mississippi and Missouri, or secure their navigation, doubtless nothing will prevent them from crossing and penetrating into our provinces on the other side, which, being to a great extent unoccupied, can oppose no resistance … In my opinion, a general revolution in America threatens Spain unless the remedy be applied promptly.

In fact, the pioneers who had occupied the uplands of the South, the backwoods stock with its Scotch-Irish leaders which had formed on the eastern edge of the Alleghanies, separate and distinct from the type of tidewater and New England, had found in the Mississippi Valley a new field for expansion under conditions of free land and unrestraint. These conditions gave it promise of ample time to work out its own social type. But, first of all, these men who were occupying the Western Waters must find an outlet for their surplus products, if they were to become a powerful people. While the Alleghanies placed a veto toward the east, the Mississippi opened a broad highway to the south. Its swift current took their flat boats in its strong arms to bear them to the sea, but across the outlet of the great river Spain drew the barrier of her colonial monopoly and denied them exit.

The significance of the Mississippi Valley in American history at the opening of the new republic, therefore, lay in the fact that, beyond the area of the social and political control of the thirteen colonies, there had arisen a new and aggressive society which imperiously put the questions of the public lands, internal communication, local self-government, defense, and aggressive expansion, before the legislators of the old colonial regime. The men of the Mississippi Valley compelled the men of the East to think in American terms instead of European. They dragged a reluctant nation on in a new course.

From the Revolution to the end of the War of 1812 Europe regarded the destiny of the Mississippi Valley as undetermined. Spain desired to maintain her hold by means of the control given through the possession of the mouth of the river and the Gulf, by her influence upon the Indian tribes, and by intrigues with the settlers. Her object was primarily to safeguard the Spanish American monopoly which had made her a great nation in the world. Instinctively she seemed to surmise that out of this Valley were the issues of her future; here was the lever which might break successively, from her empire fragments about the Gulf - Louisiana, Florida and Texas, Cuba and Porto Rico - the Southwest and Pacific coast, and even the Philippines and the Isthmian Canal, while the American republic, building itself on the resources of the Valley, should become paramount over the independent republics into which her empire was to disintegrate.

France, seeking to regain her former colonial power, would use the Mississippi Valley as a means of provisioning her West Indian islands; of dominating Spanish America, and of subordinating to her purposes the feeble United States, which her policy assigned to the lands between the Atlantic and the Alleghanies. The ancient Bourbon monarchy, the revolutionary republic, and the Napoleonic empire - all contemplated the acquisition of the whole Valley of the Mississippi from the Alleghanies to the Rocky Mountains.

England holding the Great Lakes, dominating the northern Indian populations and threatening the Gulf and the mouth of the Mississippi by her fleet, watched during the Revolution, the Confederation, and the early republic for the breaking of the fragile bonds of the thirteen States, ready to extend her protection over the settlers in the Mississippi Valley.

Alarmed by the prospect of England's taking Louisiana and Florida from Spain, Jefferson wrote in 1790: 'Embraced from St Croix to St Mary's on one side by their possessions, on the other by their fleet, we need not hesitate to say that they would soon find means to unite to them all the territory covered by the ramifications of the Mississippi.' And that, he thought, must result in 'bloody and eternal war or indissoluble confederacy' with England.

None of these nations deemed it impossible that American settlers in the Mississippi Valley might be won to accept another flag than that of the United States. Gardoqui had the effrontery in 1787 to suggest to Madison that the Kentuckians would make good Spanish subjects. France enlisted the support of frontiersmen led by George Rogers Clark for her attempted conquest of Louisiana in 1793. England tried to win support among the western settlers. Indeed, when we recall that George Rogers Clark accepted a commission as Major General from France in 1793 and again in 1798; that Wilkinson, afterwards commander-in-chief of the American army, secretly asked Spanish citizenship and promised renunciation of his American allegiance; that Governor Sevier of Franklin, afterwards Senator from Tennessee and its first Governor as a State, Robertson the founder of Cumberland, and Blount, Governor of the Southwest Territory and afterwards Senator from Tennessee, were all willing to accept the rule of another nation sooner than see the navigation of the Mississippi yielded by the American government we can easily believe that it lay within the realm of possibility that another allegiance might have been accepted by the frontiersmen themselves. We may well trust Rufus Putnam, whose federalism and devotion to his country had been proved and whose work in founding New England's settlement at Marietta is well known, when he wrote in 1790 in answer to Fisher Ames's question whether the Mississippi Valley could be retained in the Union: 'Should Congress give up her claim to the navigation of the Mississippi or cede it to the Spaniards, I believe the people in the Western quarter would separate themselves from the United States very soon. Such a measure, I have no doubt, would excite so much rage and dissatisfaction that the people would sooner put themselves under the despotic government of Spain than remain the indented servants of Congress.' He added that if Congress did not afford due protection also to these western settlers they might turn to England or Spain.

Prior to the railroad the Mississippi Valley was potentially the basis for an independent empire, in spite of the fact that its population would inevitably be drawn from the Eastern States. Its natural outlet was down the current to the Gulf. New Orleans controlled the Valley, in the words of Wilkinson, 'as the key the lock, or the citadel the outworks.' So long as the Mississippi Valley was menaced, or in part controlled, by rival European states, just so long must the United States be a part of the state system of Europe, involved in its fortunes. And particularly was this the case in view of the fact that until the Union made internal commerce, based upon the Mississippi Valley, its dominant economic interest, the merchants and sailors of the northeastern States and the staple producers of the southern sea-board were a commercial appanage of Europe. The significance of the Mississippi Valley was clearly seen by Jefferson. Writing to Livingston in 1802 he declared:

There is on the globe one single spot, the possessor of which is our natural and habitual enemy. It is New Orleans, through which the produce of three-eights of our territory must pass to market, and from its fertility it will ere long yield more than half of our whole produce and contain more than half of our inhabitants … The day that France takes possession of New Orleans fixes the sentence which is to restrain her within her low-water mark. It seals the union of two nations who in conjunction can maintain exclusive possession of the ocean. From that moment we must marry ourselves to the British fleet and nation … holding the two continents of America in sequestration for the common purposes of the united British and American nations.

The acquisition of Louisiana was a recognition of the essential unity of the Mississippi Valley. The French engineer Collot reported to his government after an investigation in 1796:

All the positions on the left [east] bank of the Mississippi … without the alliance of the Western states are far from covering Louisiana … When two nations possess, one the coasts and the other the plains, the former must inevitably embark or submit. From thence I conclude that the Western States of the North American republic must unite themselves with Louisiana and form in the future one single compact nation; or else that colony to whatever power it shall belong will be conquered or devoured.

The effect of bringing political unity to the Mississippi Valley by the Louisiana Purchase was profound. It was the decisive step of the United States on an independent career as a world power, free from entangling foreign alliances. The victories of Harrison in the Northwest, in the War of 1812 that followed, ensured our expansion in the northern half of the Valley. Jackson's triumphal march to the Gulf and his defense of New Orleans in the same war won the basis for that Cotton Kingdom, so important in the economic life of the nation and so pregnant with the issue of slavery. The acquisition of Florida, Texas, and the Far West followed naturally. Not only was the nation set on an independent path in foreign relations; its political system was revolutionized, for the Mississippi Valley now opened the way for adding State after State, swamping the New England section and its Federalism. The doctrine of strict construction had received a fatal blow at the hands of its own prophet. The old conception of historic sovereign States, makers of a federation, was shattered by this vast addition of raw material for an indefinite number of parallelograms called States, nursed through a Territorial period by the Federal government, admitted under conditions, and animated by national rather than by State patriotism.

The area of the nation had been so enlarged and the development of the internal resources so promoted, by the acquisition of the whole course of the mighty river, its tributaries and its outlet, that the Atlantic coast soon turned its economic energies from the sea to the interior. Cities and sections began to struggle for ascendancy over its industrial life. A real national activity, a genuine American culture began. The vast spaces, the huge natural resources, of the Valley demanded exploitation and population. Later there came the tide of foreign immigration which has risen so steadily that it has made a composite American people whose amalgamation is destined to produce a new national stock.

But without attempting to exhaust, or even to indicate, all the effects of the Louisiana Purchase, I wish next to ask your attention to the significance of the Mississippi Valley in the promotion of democracy and the transfer of the political center of gravity in the nation. The Mississippi Valley has been the especial home of democracy. Born of free land and the pioneer spirit, nurtured in the ideas of the Revolution and finding free play for these ideas in the freedom of the wilderness, democracy showed itself in the earliest utterances of the men of the Western Waters and it has persisted there. The demand for local self-government, which was insistent on the frontier, and the endorsement given by the Alleghanies to these demands led to the creation of a system of independent Western governments and to the Ordinance of 1787, an original contribution to colonial policy. This was framed in the period when any rigorous subjection of the West to Eastern rule would have endangered the ties that bound them to the Union itself. In the Constitutional Convention prominent Eastern statesmen expressed their fears of the Western democracy and would have checked its ability to out-vote the regions of property by limiting its political power, so that it should never equal that of the Atlantic coast. But more liberal counsels prevailed. In the first debates upon the public lands, also, it was clearly stated that the social system of the nation was involved quite as much as the question of revenue. Eastern fears that cheap lands in abundance would depopulate the Atlantic States and check their industrial growth by a scarcity of labor supply were met by the answer of one of the representatives in 1796:

I question if any man would be hardy enough to point out a class of citizens by name that ought to be the servants of the community; yet unless that is done to what class of the People could you direct such a law? But if you passed such an act [limiting the area offered for sale in the Mississippi Valley], it would be tantamount to saying that there is some class which must remain here, and by law be obliged to serve the others for such wages as they please to give.

Gallatin showed his comprehension of the basis of the prosperous American democracy in the same debate when he said:

If the cause of the happiness of this country was examined into, it would be found to arise as much from the great plenty of land in proportion to the inhabitants, which their citizens enjoyed as from the wisdom of their political institutions.

Out of this frontier democratic society where the freedom and abundance of land in the great Valley opened a refuge to the oppressed in all regions, came the Jacksonian democracy which governed the nation after the downfall of the party of John Quincy Adams. Its center rested in Tennessee, the region from which so large a portion of the Mississippi Valley was settled by descendants of the men of the Upland South. The rule of the Mississippi Valley is seen when we recall the place that Tennessee, Kentucky, and Missouri held in both parties. Besides Jackson, Clay, Harrison and Polk, we count such presidential candidates as Hugh White and John Bell, Vice President R. M. Johnson, Grundy, the chairman of the finance committee, and Benton, the champion of western radicalism.

It was in this same period, and largely by reason of the drainage of population to the West, and the stir in the air raised by the Western winds of Jacksonian democracy, that most of the older States reconstructed their constitutions on a more democratic basis. From the Mississippi Valley where there were liberal suffrage provisions (based on population alone instead of property and population), disregard of vested interests, and insistence on the rights of man, came the inspiration for this era of change in the franchise and apportionment, of reform of laws for imprisonment for debt, of general attacks upon monopoly and privilege. 'It is now plain,' wrote Jackson in 1837, 'that the war is to be carried on by the monied aristocracy of the few against the democracy of numbers; the [prosperous] to make the honest laborers hewers of wood and drawers of water … through the credit and paper system.'

By this time the Mississippi Valley had grown in population and political power so that it ranked with the older sections. The next indication of its significance in American history which I shall mention is its position in shaping the economic and political course of the nation between the close of the War of 1812 and the slavery struggle. In 1790 the Mississippi Valley had a population of about a hundred thousand, or one-fortieth of that of the United States as a whole; by 1810 it had over a million, or one-seventh; by 1830 it had three and two-thirds millions, or over one-fourth; by 1840 over six millions, more than one-third. While the Atlantic coast increased only a million and a half souls between 1830 and 1840, the Mississippi Valley gained nearly three millions. Ohio (virgin wilderness in 1790) was, half a century later, nearly as populous as Pennsylvania and twice as populous as Massachusetts. While Virginia, North Carolina, and South Carolina were gaining 60,000 souls between 1830 and 1840, Illinois gained 318,000. Indeed, the growth of this State alone excelled that of the entire South Atlantic States.

These figures show the significance of the Mississippi Valley in its pressure upon the older section by the competition of its cheap lands, its abundant harvests, and its drainage of the labor supply. All of these things meant an upward lift to the Eastern wage earner. But they meant also an increase of political power in the Valley. Before the War of 1812 the Mississippi Valley had six senators, New England ten, the Middle States ten, and the South eight. By 1840 the Mississippi Valley had twenty-two senators, double those of the Middle States and New England combined, and nearly three times as many as the Old South; while in the House of Representatives the Mississippi Valley outweighed any one of the old sections. In 1810 it had less than one-third the power of New England and the South together in the House. In 1840 it outweighed them both combined and because of its special circumstances it held the balance of power.

While the Mississippi Valley thus rose to superior political power as compared with any of the old sections, its economic development made it the inciting factor in the industrial life of the nation. After the War of 1812 the steamboat revolutionized the transportation facilities of the Mississippi Valley. In each economic area a surplus formed, demanding an outlet and demanding returns in manufactures. The spread of cotton into the lower Mississippi Valley and the Gulf Plains had a double significance. This transfer of the center of cotton production away from the Atlantic South not only brought increasing hardship and increasing unrest to the East as the competition of the virgin soils depressed Atlantic land values and made Eastern labor increasingly dear, but the price of cotton fell also in due proportion to the increase in production by the Mississippi Valley. While the transfer of economic power from the Seaboard South to the Cotton Kingdom of the lower Mississippi Valley was in progress, the upper Mississippi Valley was leaping forward, partly under the stimulus of a market for its surplus in the plantations of the South, where almost exclusive cultivation of the great staples resulted in a lack of foodstuffs and livestock.

At the same time the great river and its affluents became the highway of a commerce that reached to the West Indies, the Atlantic Coast, Europe, and South America. The Mississippi Valley was an industrial entity, from Pittsburgh and Santa Fe to New Orleans. It became the most important influence in American politics and industry. Washington had declared in 1784 that it was the part of wisdom for Virginia to bind the West to the East by ties of interest through internal improvement thereby taking advantage of the extensive and valuable trade of a rising empire.

This realization of the fact that an economic empire was growing up beyond the mountains stimulated rival cities, New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore, to engage in a struggle to supply the West with goods and receive its products. This resulted in an attempt to break down the barrier of the Alleghanies by internal improvements. The movement became especially active after the War of 1812, when New York carried out De Witt Clinton's vast conception of making by the Erie Canal a greater Hudson which should drain to the port of New York all the basin of the Great Lakes, and by means of other canals even divert the traffic from the tributaries of the Mississippi. New York City's commercial ascendancy dates from this connection with interior New York and the Mississippi Valley. A writer in Hunt's Merchants' Magazine in 1869 makes the significance of this clearer by these words:

There was a period in the history of the seaboard cities when there was no West; and when the Alleghany Mountains formed the frontier of settlement and agricultural production. During that epoch the seaboard cities, North and South, grew in proportion to the extent and fertility of the country in their rear; and as Maryland, Virginia, the Carolinas and Georgia were more productive in staples valuable to commerce than the colonies north of them, the cities of Baltimore, Norfolk, Charleston, and Savannah enjoyed a greater trade and experienced a larger growth than those on the northern seaboard.

He, then, classifies the periods of city development into three: (1) the provincial, limited to the Atlantic seaboard; (2) that of canal and turnpike connected with the Mississippi Valley; and (3) that of railroad connection. Thus he was able to show how Norfolk, for example, was shut off from the enriching currents of interior trade and was outstripped by New York. The efforts of Philadelphia, Baltimore, Charleston, and Savannah to divert the trade of the Mississippi system to their own ports on the Atlantic, and the rise or fall of these cities in proportion as they succeeded are a sufficient indication of the meaning of the Mississippi Valley in American industrial life. What colonial empire has been for London that the Mississippi Valley is to the seaboard cities of the United States, awakening visions of industrial empire, systematic control of vast spaces, producing the American type of the captain of industry.

It was not alone city rivalry that converged upon the Mississippi Valley and sought its alliance. Sectional rivalry likewise saw that the balance of power possessed by the interior furnished an opportunity for combinations. This was a fundamental feature of Calhoun's policy when he urged the seaboard South to complete a railroad system to tap the Northwest. As Washington had hoped to make western trade seek its outlet in Virginia and build up the industrial power of the Old Dominion by enriching intercourse with the Mississippi Valley, as Monroe wished to bind the West to Virginia's political interests; and as De Witt Clinton wished to attach it to New York, so Calhoun and Hayne would make 'Georgia and Carolina the commercial center of the Union, and the two most powerful and influential members of the confederacy,' by draining the Mississippi Valley to their ports. 'I believe,' said Calhoun, 'that the success of a connection of the West is of the last importance to us politically and commercially … I do verily believe that Charleston has more advantages in her position for the Western trade, than any city on the Atlantic, but to develop them we ought to look to the Tennessee instead of the Ohio, and much farther to the West than Cincinnati or Lexington.'

This was the secret of Calhoun's advocacy in 1836 and 1837 both of the distribution of the surplus revenue and of the cession of the public lands to the States in which they lay, as an inducement to the West to ally itself with Southern policies; and it is the key to the readiness of Calhoun, even after he lost his nationalism, to promote internal improvements which would foster the southward current of trade on the Mississippi.

Without going into details, I may simply call your attention to the fact that Clay's whole system of internal improvements and tariff was based upon the place of the Mississippi Valley in American life. It was the upper part of the Valley, and especially the Ohio Valley, that furnished the votes which carried the tariffs of 1816, 1824, and 1828. Its interests profoundly influenced the details of those tariffs and its need of internal improvement constituted a basis for sectional bargaining in all the constructive legislation after the War of 1812. New England, the Middle Region, and the South each sought alliance with the growing section beyond the mountains. American legislation bears the enduring evidence of these alliances. Even the National Bank found in this Valley the main sphere of its business. The nation had turned its energies to internal exploitation, and sections contended for the economic and political power derived from connection with the interior.

But already the Mississippi Valley was beginning to stratify, both socially and geographically. As the railroads pushed across the mountains, the tide of New England and New York colonists and German immigrants sought the basin of the Great Lakes and the Upper Mississippi. A distinct zone, industrially and socially connected with New England, was forming. The railroad reinforced the Erie Canal and, as De Bow put it, turned back the tide of the Father of Waters so that its outlet was in New York instead of New Orleans for a large part of the Valley. Below the Northern zone was the border zone of the Upland South, the region of compromise, including both banks of the Ohio and the Missouri and reaching down to the hills on the north of the Gulf Plains. The Cotton Kingdom based on slavery found its center in the fertile soils along the Lower Mississippi and the black prairies of Georgia and Alabama, and was settled largely by planters from the old cotton lands of the Atlantic States. The Mississippi Valley had rejuvenated slavery, had given it an aggressive tone characteristic of Western life.

Thus the Valley found itself in the midst of the slavery struggle at the very time when its own society had lost homogeneity. Let us allow two leaders, one of the South and one of the North, to describe the situation; and, first, let the South speak. Said Hammond, of South Carolina, in a speech in the Senate on March 4, 1858:

I think it not improper that I should attempt to bring the North and South face to face, and see what resources each of us might have in the contingency of separate organizations.

Through the heart of our country runs the great Mississippi, the father of waters, into whose bosom are poured thirty-six thousand miles of tributary streams; and beyond we have the desert prairie wastes to protect us in our rear. Can you hem in such a territory as that? You talk of putting up a wall of fire around eight hundred and fifty thousand miles so situated! How absurd.

But in this territory lies the great valley of the Mississippi, now the real and soon to be the acknowledged seat of the empire of the world. The sway of that valley will be as great as ever the Nile knew in the earlier ages of mankind. We own the most of it. The most valuable part of it belongs to us now; and although those who have settled above us are now opposed to us, another generation will tell a different tale. They are ours by all the laws of nature; slave labor will go to every foot of this great valley where it will be found profitable to use it, and some of those who may not use it are soon to be united with us by such ties as will make us one and inseparable. The iron horse will soon be clattering over the sunny plains of the South to bear the products of its upper tributaries to our Atlantic ports, as it now does through the ice-bound North. There is the great Mississippi, bond of union made by nature herself. She will maintain it forever.

As the Seaboard South had transferred the mantle of leadership to Tennessee and then to the Cotton Kingdom of the Lower Mississippi, so New England and New York resigned their command to the northern half of the Mississippi Valley and the basin of the Great Lakes. Seward, the old-time leader of the Eastern Whigs who had just lost the Republican nomination for the presidency to Lincoln, may rightfully speak for the Northeast. In the fall of 1860, addressing an audience at Madison, Wisconsin, he declared:

The empire established at Washington is of less than a hundred years' formation. It was the empire of thirteen Atlantic states. Still, practically, the mission of that empire is fulfilled. The power that directs it is ready to pass away from those thirteen states, and although held and exercised under the same constitution and national form of government, yet it is now in the very act of being transferred from the thirteen states east of the Alleghany mountains and on the coast of the Atlantic ocean, to the twenty states that lie west of the Alleghanies, and stretch away from their base to the base of the Rocky mountains on the West, and you are the heirs to it. When the next census shall reveal your power, you will be found to be the masters of the United States of America, and through them the dominating political power of the world.

Appealing to the Northwest on the slavery issue Seward declared:

The whole responsibility rests henceforth directly or indirectly on the people of the Northwest … There can be no virtue in commercial and manufacturing communities to maintain a democracy, when the democracy themselves do not want a democracy. There is no virtue in Pearl street, in Wall street, in Court street, in Chestnut street, in any other street of great commercial cities, that can save the great democratic government of ours, when you cease to uphold it with your intelligent votes, your strong and mighty hands. You must, therefore, lead us as we heretofore reserved and prepared the way for you. We resign to you the banner of human rights and human liberty, on this continent, and we bid you be firm, bold and onward and then you may hope that we will be able to follow you.

When we survey the course of the slavery struggle in the United States it is clear that the form the question took was due to the Mississippi Valley. The Ordinance of 1787, the Missouri Compromise, the Texas question, the Free Soil agitation, the Compromise of 1850, the Kansas-Nebraska bill, the Dred Scott decision, 'bleeding Kansas' - these are all Mississippi Valley questions, and the mere enumeration makes it plain that it was the Mississippi Valley as an area for expansion which gave the slavery issue its significance in American history. But for this field of expansion, slavery might have fulfilled the expectation of the fathers and gradually died away.

Of the significance of the Mississippi Valley in the Civil War, it is unnecessary that I should speak. Illinois gave to the North its President; Mississippi gave to the South its President. Lincoln and Davis were both born in Kentucky. Grant and Sherman, the northern generals, came from the Mississippi Valley; and both of them believed that when Vicksburg fell the cause of the South was lost, and so it must have been if the Confederacy had been unable, after victories in the East, to regain the Father of Waters; for, as General Sherman said: 'Whatever power holds that river can govern this continent.'

With the close of the war political power passed for many years to the northern half of the Mississippi Valley, as the names of Grant, Hayes, Garfield, Harrison, and McKinley indicate. The population of the Valley grew from about fifteen millions in 1860 to over forty millions in 1900 - over half the total population of the United States. The significance of its industrial growth is not likely to be overestimated or overlooked. On its northern border, from near Minnesota's boundary line, through the Great Lakes to Pittsburgh, on its eastern edge, runs a huge movement of iron from mine to factory. This industry is basal in American life, and it has revolutionized the industry of the world. The United States produces pig-iron and steel in amount equal to her two greatest competitors combined, and the iron ores for this product are chiefly in the Mississippi Valley. It is the chief producer of coal, thereby enabling the United States almost to equal the combined production of Germany and Great Britain; and great oil fields of the nation are in its midst. Its huge crops of wheat and corn and its cattle are the main resources for the United States and are drawn upon by Europe. Its cotton furnishes two-thirds of the world's factory supply. Its railroad system constitutes the greatest transportation network in the world. Again it is seeking industrial consolidation by demanding improvement of its vast water system as a unit. If this design, favored by Roosevelt, shall at some time be accomplished, again the bulk of the commerce of the Valley may flow along the old routes to New Orleans; and to Galveston by the development of southern railroad outlets after the building of the Panama Canal. For the development and exploitation of these and of the transportation and trade interests of the Middle West, Eastern capital has been consolidated into huge corporations, trusts, and combinations. With the influx of capital, and the rise of cities and manufactures, portions of the Mississippi Valley have become assimilated with the East. With the end of the era of free lands the basis of its democratic society is passing away.

The final topic on which I shall briefly comment in this discussion of the significance of the Mississippi Valley in American history is a corollary of this condition. Has the Mississippi Valley a permanent contribution to make to American society, or is it to be adjusted into a type characteristically Eastern and European? In other words, has the United States itself an original contribution to make to the history of society? This is what it comes to. The most significant fact in the Mississippi Valley is its ideals. Here has been developed, not by revolutionary theory, but by growth among free opportunities, the conception of a vast democracy made up of mobile ascending individuals, conscious of their power and their responsibilities. Can these ideals of individualism and democracy be reconciled and applied to the twentieth century type of civilization?

Other nations have been rich and prosperous and powerful, art-loving and empire-building. No other nation on a vast scale has been controlled by a self-conscious, self-restrained democracy in the interests of progress and freedom, industrial as well as political. It is in the vast and level spaces of the Mississippi Valley, if anywhere, that the forces of social transformation and the modification of its democratic ideals may be arrested.

Beginning with competitive individualism, as well as with belief in equality, the farmers of the Mississippi Valley gradually learned that unrestrained competition and combination meant the triumph of the strongest, the seizure in the interest of a dominant class of the strategic points of the nation's life. They learned that between the ideal of individualism, unrestrained by society, and the ideal of democracy, was an innate conflict; that their very ambitions and forcefulness had endangered their democracy. The significance of the Mississippi Valley in American history has lain partly in the fact that it was a region of revolt. Here have arisen varied, sometimes ill-considered, but always devoted, movements for ameliorating the lot of the common man in the interests of democracy. Out of the Mississippi Valley have come successive and related tidal waves of popular demand for real or imagined legislative safeguards to their rights and their social ideals. The Granger movement, the Greenback movement, the Populist movement, Bryan Democracy, and Roosevelt Republicanism all found their greatest strength in the Mississippi Valley. They were Mississippi Valley ideals in action. Its people were learning by experiment and experience how to grapple with the fundamental problem of creating a just social order that shall sustain the free, progressive, individual in a real democracy. The Mississippi Valley is asking, 'What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?'

The Mississippi Valley has furnished a new social order to America. Its universities have set new types of institutions for social service and for the elevation of the plain people. Its historians should recount its old ambitions, and inventory its ideals, as well as its resources, for the information of the present age, to the end that building on its past, the mighty Valley may have a significance in the life of the nation even more profound than any which I have recounted.

IV

Social Forces in American History (1910)

The transformations through which the United States is passing in our own day are so profound, so far-reaching, that it is hardly an exaggeration to say that we are witnessing the birth of a new nation in America. The revolution in the social and economic structure of this country during the past two decades is comparable to what occurred when independence was declared and the constitution was formed, or to the changes wrought by the era which began half a century ago, the era of Civil War and Reconstruction.

These changes have been long in preparation and are, in part, the result of world-wide forces of reorganization incident to the age of steam production and large-scale industry, and, in part, the result of the closing of the period of the colonization of the West. They have been prophesied, and the course of the movement partly described by students of American development; but after all, it is with a shock that the people of the United States are coming to realize that the fundamental forces which have shaped their society up to the present are disappearing. Twenty years ago, as I have before had occasion to point out, the Superintendent of the Census declared that the frontier line, which its maps had depicted for decade after decade of the westward march of the nation, could no longer be described. To-day we must add that the age of free competition of individuals for the unpossessed resources of the nation is nearing its end. It is taking less than a generation to write the chapter which began with the disappearance of the line of the frontier - the last chapter in the history of the colonization of the United States, the conclusion to the annals of its pioneer democracy.

It is a wonderful chapter, this final rush of American energy upon the remaining wilderness. Even the bare statistics become eloquent of a new era. They no longer derive their significance from the exhibit of vast proportions of the public domain transferred to agriculture, of wildernesses equal to European nations changed decade after decade into the farm area of the United States. It is true there was added to the farms of the nation between 1870 and 1880 a territory equal to that of France, and between 1880 and 1900 a territory equal to the European area of France, Germany, England, and Wales combined. The records of 1910 are not yet available, but whatever they reveal they will not be so full of meaning as the figures which tell of upleaping wealth and organization and concentration of industrial power in the East in the last decade. As the final provinces of the Western empire have been subdued to the purposes of civilization and have yielded their spoils, as the spheres of operation of the great industrial corporations have extended, with the extension of American settlement, production and wealth have increased beyond all precedent.

The total deposits in all national banks have more than trebled in the present decade; the money in circulation has doubled since 1890. The flood of gold makes it difficult to gage the full meaning of the incredible increase in values, for in the decade ending with 1909 over 41,600,000 ounces of gold were mined in the United States alone. Over four million ounces have been produced every year since 1905, whereas between 1880 and 1894 no year showed a production of two million ounces. As a result of this swelling stream of gold and instruments of credit, aided by a variety of other causes, prices have risen until their height has become one of the most marked features and influential factors in American life, producing social readjustments and contributing effectively to party revolutions.

But if we avoid those statistics which require analysis because of the changing standard of value, we still find that the decade occupies an exceptional place in American history. More coal was mined in the United States in the ten years after 1897 than in all the life of the nation before that time. Fifty years ago we mined less than fifteen million long tons of coal. In 1907 we mined nearly 429,000,000. At the present rate it is estimated that the supply of coal would be exhausted at a date no farther in the future than the formation of the constitution is in the past. Iron and coal are the measures of industrial power. The nation has produced three times as much iron ore in the past two decades as in all its previous history; the production of the past ten years was more than double that of the prior decade. Pig-iron production is admitted to be an excellent barometer of manufacture and of transportation. Never until 1898 had this reached an annual total of ten million long tons. But in the five years beginning with 1904 it averaged over twice that. By 1907 the United States had surpassed Great Britain, Germany, and France combined in the production of pig-iron and steel together, and in the same decade a single great corporation has established its domination over the iron mines and steel manufacture of the United States. It is more than a mere accident that the United States Steel Corporation with its stocks and bonds aggregating $1,400,000,000 was organized at the beginning of the present decade. The former wilderness about Lake Superior has, principally in the past two decades, established its position as overwhelmingly the preponderant source of iron ore, present and prospective, in the United States - a treasury from which Pittsburgh has drawn wealth and extended its unparalleled industrial empire in these years. The tremendous energies thus liberated at this center of industrial power in the United States revolutionized methods of manufacture in general, and in many indirect ways profoundly influenced the life of the nation.

Railroad statistics also exhibit unprecedented development, the formation of a new industrial society. The number of passengers carried one mile more than doubled between 1890 and 1908; freight carried one mile has nearly trebled in the same period and has doubled in the past decade. Agricultural products tell a different story. The corn crop has only risen from about two billion bushels in 1891 to two and seven-tenths billions in 1909; wheat from six hundred and eleven million bushels in 1891 to only seven hundred and thirty-seven million in 1909; and cotton from about nine million bales in 1891 to ten and three-tenths million bales in 1909. Population has increased in the United States proper from about sixty-two and one-half millions in 1890 to seventy-five and one-half millions in 1900 and to over ninety millions in 1910.

It is clear from these statistics that the ratio of the nation's increased production of immediate wealth by the enormously increased exploitation of its remaining natural resources vastly exceeds the ratio of increase of population and still more strikingly exceeds the ratio of increase of agricultural products. Already population is pressing upon the food supply while capital consolidates in billion-dollar organizations. The 'Triumphant Democracy' whose achievements the iron-master celebrated has reached a stature even more imposing than he could have foreseen; but still less did he perceive the changes in democracy itself and the conditions of its life which have accompanied this material growth.

Having colonized the Far West, having mastered its internal resources, the nation turned at the conclusion of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century to deal with the Far East, to engage in the world-politics of the Pacific Ocean. Having continued its historic expansion into the lands of the old Spanish empire by the successful outcome of the recent war, the United States became the mistress of the Philippines at the same time that it came into possession of the Hawaiian Islands, and the controlling influence in the Gulf of Mexico. It provided early in the present decade for connecting its Atlantic and Pacific coasts by the Isthmian Canal, and became an imperial republic with dependencies and protectorates - admittedly a new world-power, with a potential voice in the problems of Europe, Asia, and Africa.

This extension of power, this undertaking of grave responsibilities in new fields, this entry into the sisterhood of world-states, was no isolated event. It was, indeed, in some respects the logical outcome of the nation's march to the Pacific, the sequence to the era in which it was engaged in occupying the free lands and exploiting the resources of the West. When it had achieved this position among the nations of the earth, the United States found itself confronted, also, with the need of constitutional readjustment, arising from the relations of federal government and territorial acquisitions. It was obliged to reconsider questions of the rights of man and traditional American ideals of liberty and democracy, in view of the task of government of other races politically inexperienced and undeveloped.

If we turn to consider the effect upon American society and domestic policy in these two decades of transition we are met with palpable evidences of the invasion of the old pioneer democratic order. Obvious among them is the effect of unprecedented immigration to supply the mobile army of cheap labor for the centers of industrial life. In the past ten years, beginning with 1900, over eight million immigrants have arrived. The newcomers of the eight years since 1900 would, according to a writer in 1908, 'repopulate all the five older New England States as they stand to-day; or, if properly disseminated over the newer parts of the country they would serve to populate no less than nineteen states of the Union as they stand.' In 1907 'there were one and one-quarter million arrivals. This number would entirely populate both New Hampshire and Maine, two of our oldest States.' 'The arrivals of this one year would found a State with more inhabitants than any one of twenty-one of our other existing commonwealths which could be named.' Not only has the addition to the population from Europe been thus extraordinary, it has come in increasing measure from southern and eastern Europe. For the year 1907, Professor Ripley, whom I am quoting, has redistributed the incomers on the basis of physical type and finds that one-quarter of them were of the Mediterranean race, one-quarter of the Slavic race, one-eighth Jewish, and only one-sixth of the Alpine, and one-sixth of the Teutonic. In 1882 Germans had come to the amount of 250,000; in 1907 they were replaced by 330,000 South Italians. Thus it is evident that the ethnic elements of the United States have undergone startling changes; and instead of spreading over the nation these immigrants have concentrated especially in the cities and great industrial centers in the past decade. The composition of the labor class and its relation to wages and to the native American employer have been deeply influenced thereby; the sympathy of the employers with labor has been unfavorably affected by the pressure of great numbers of immigrants of alien nationality and of lower standards of life.

The familiar facts of the massing of population in the cities and the contemporaneous increase of urban power, and of the massing of capital and production in fewer and vastly greater industrial units, especially attest the revolution. 'It is a proposition too plain to require elucidation,' wrote Richard Rush, Secretary of the Treasury, in his report of 1827, 'that the creation of capital is retarded rather than accelerated by the diffusion of a thin population over a great surface of soil.' Thirty years before Rush wrote these words Albert Gallatin declared in Congress that 'if the cause of the happiness of this country were examined into, it would be found to arise as much from the great plenty of land in proportion to the inhabitants which their citizens enjoyed as from the wisdom of their political institutions.' Possibly both of these Pennsylvania financiers were right under the conditions of the time; but it is at least significant that capital and labor entered upon a new era as the end of the free lands approached. A contemporary of Gallatin in Congress had replied to the argument that cheap lands would depopulate the Atlantic coast by saying that if a law were framed to prevent ready access to western lands it would be tantamount to saying that there is some class which must remain 'and by law be obliged to serve the others for such wages as they pleased to give.' The passage of the arable public domain into private possession has raised this question in a new form and has brought forth new answers. This is peculiarly the era when competitive individualism in the midst of vast unappropriated opportunities changed into the monopoly of the fundamental industrial processes by huge aggregations of capital as the free lands disappeared. All the tendencies of the large-scale production of the twentieth century, all the trend to the massing of capital in large combinations, all of the energies of the age of steam, found in America exceptional freedom of action and were offered regions of activity equal to the states of all Western Europe. Here they reached their highest development.

The decade following 1897 is marked by the work of Mr Harriman and his rivals in building up the various railroads into a few great groups, a process that had gone so far that before his death Mr Harriman was ambitious to concentrate them all under his single control. High finance under the leadership of Mr Morgan steadily achieved the consolidation of the greater industries into trusts or combinations and effected a community of interests between them and a few dominant banking organizations, with allied insurance companies and trust companies. In New York City have been centered, as never before, the banking reserves of the nation, and here, by the financial management of capital and speculative promotion, there has grown up a unified control over the nation's industrial life. Colossal private fortunes have arisen. No longer is the per capita wealth of the nation a real index to the prosperity of the average man. Labor on the other hand has shown an increasing self-consciousness, is combining and increasing its demands. In a word, the old pioneer individualism is disappearing, while the forces of social combination are manifesting themselves as never before. The self-made man has become, in popular speech, the coal baron, the steel king, the oil king, the cattle king, the railroad magnate, the master of high finance, the monarch of trusts. The world has never before seen such huge fortunes exercising combined control over the economic life of a people, and such luxury as has come out of the individualistic pioneer democracy of America in the course of competitive evolution.

At the same time the masters of industry, who control interests which represent billions of dollars, do not admit that they have broken with pioneer ideals. They regard themselves as pioneers under changed conditions, carrying on the old work of developing the natural resources of the nation, compelled by the constructive fever in their veins, even in ill-health and old age and after the accumulation of wealth beyond their power to enjoy, to seek new avenues of action and of power, to chop new clearings, to find new trails, to expand the horizon of the nation's activity, and to extend the scope of their dominion. 'This country,' said the late Mr Harriman in an interview a few years ago, 'has been developed by a wonderful people, flush with enthusiasm, imagination and speculative bent … They have been magnificent pioneers. They saw into the future and adapted their work to the possibilities … Stifle that enthusiasm, deaden that imagination and prohibit that speculation by restrictive and cramping conservative law, and you tend to produce a moribund and conservative people and country,' This is an appeal to the historic ideals of Americans who viewed the republic as the guardian of individual freedom to compete for the control of the natural resources of the nation.

On the other hand, we have the voice of the insurgent West, recently given utterance in the New National-ism of ex-President Roosevelt, demanding increase of federal authority to curb the special interests, the powerful industrial organizations, and the monopolies, for the sake of the conservation of our natural resources and the preservation of American democracy.

The past decade has witnessed an extraordinary federal activity in limiting individual and corporate freedom for the benefit of society. To that decade belong the conservation congresses and the effective organization of the Forest Service, and the Reclamation Service. Taken together these developments alone would mark a new era, for over three hundred million acres are, as a result of this policy, reserved from entry and sale, an area more than equal to that of all the states which established the constitution, if we exclude their western claims; and these reserved lands are held for a more beneficial use of their forests, minerals, arid tracts, and water rights, by the nation as a whole. Another example is the extension of the activity of the Department of Agriculture, which seeks the remotest regions of the earth for crops suitable to the areas reclaimed by the government, maps and analyzes the soils, fosters the improvement of seeds and animals, tells the farmer when and how and what to plant, and makes war upon diseases of plants and animals and insect pests. The recent legislation for pure food and meat inspection, and the whole mass of regulative law under the Interstate Commerce clause of the constitution, further illustrates the same tendency.

Two ideals were fundamental in traditional American thought, ideals that developed in the pioneer era. One was that of individual freedom to compete unrestrictedly for the resources of a continent - the squatter ideal. To the pioneer government was an evil. The other was the ideal of a democracy - 'government of the people, by the people and for the people.' The operation of these ideals took place contemporaneously with the passing into private possession of the free public domain and the natural resources of the United States. But American democracy was based on an abundance of free lands; these were the very conditions that shaped its growth and its fundamental traits. Thus time has revealed that these two ideals of pioneer democracy had elements of mutual hostility and contained the seeds of its dissolution. The present finds itself engaged in the task of readjusting its old ideals to new conditions and is turning increasingly to government to preserve its traditional democracy. It is not surprising that socialism shows noteworthy gains as elections continue; that parties are forming on new lines; that the demand for primary elections, for popular choice of senators, initiative, referendum, and recall, is spreading, and that the regions once the center of pioneer democracy exhibit these tendencies in the most marked degree. They are efforts to find substitutes for that former safeguard of democracy, the disappearing free lands. They are the sequence to the extinction of the frontier.

It is necessary next to notice that in the midst of all this national energy, and contemporaneous with the tendency to turn to the national government for protection to democracy, there is clear evidence of the persistence and the development of sectionalism. Whether we observe the grouping of votes in Congress and in general elections, or the organization and utterances of business leaders, or the association of scholars, churches, or other representatives of the things of the spirit, we find that American life is not only increasing in its national intensity but that it is integrating by sections. In part this is due to the factor of great spaces which make sectional rather than national organization the line of least resistance; but, in part, it is also the expression of the separate economic, political, and social interests and the separate spiritual life of the various geographic provinces or sections. The votes on the tariff, and in general the location of the strongholds of the Progressive Republican movement, illustrate this fact. The difficulty of a national adjustment of railway rates to the diverse interests of different sections is another example. Without attempting to enter upon a more extensive discussion of sectionalism, I desire simply to point out that there are evidences that now, as formerly, the separate geographical interests have their leaders and spokesmen, that much Congressional legislation is determined by the contests, triumphs, or compromises between the rival sections, and that the real federal relations of the United States are shaped by the interplay of sectional with national forces rather than by the relation of State and Nation. As time goes on and the nation adjusts itself more durably to the conditions of the differing geographic sections which make it up, they are coming to a new self-consciousness and a revived self-assertion. Our national character is a composite of these sections.

Obviously in attempting to indicate even a portion of the significant features of our recent history we have been obliged to take note of a complex of forces. The times are so close at hand that the relations between events and tendencies force themselves upon our attention. We have had to deal with the connections of geography, industrial growth, politics, and government. With these we must take into consideration the changing social composition, the inherited beliefs and habitual attitude of the masses of the people, the psychology of the nation and of the separate sections, as well as of the leaders. We must see how these leaders are shaped partly by their time and section, and how they are in part original, creative, by virtue of their own genius and initiative. We cannot neglect the moral tendencies and the ideals. All are related parts of the same subject and can no more be properly understood in isolation than the movement as a whole can be understood by neglecting some of these important factors, or by the use of a single method of investigation. Whatever be the truth regarding European history, American history is chiefly concerned with social forces, shaping and reshaping under the conditions of a nation changing as it adjusts to its environment. And this environment progressively reveals new aspects of itself, exerts new influences, and calls out new social organs and functions.

I have undertaken this rapid survey of recent history for two purposes. First, because it has seemed fitting to emphasize the significance of American development since the passing of the frontier, and, second, because in the observation of present conditions we may find assistance in our study of the past.

It is a familiar doctrine that each age studies its history anew and with interests determined by the spirit of the time. Each age finds it necessary to reconsider at least some portion of the past, from points of view furnished by new conditions which reveal the influence and significance of forces not adequately known by the historians of the previous generation. Unquestionably each investigator and writer is influenced by the times in which he lives and while this fact exposes the historian to a bias, at the same time it affords him new instruments and new insight for dealing with his subject.

If recent history, then, gives new meaning to past events, if it has to deal with the rise into a commanding position of forces, the origin and growth of which may have been inadequately described or even overlooked by historians of the previous generation, it is important to study the present and the recent past, not only for themselves but also as the source of new hypotheses, new lines of inquiry, new criteria of the perspective of the remoter past. And, moreover, a just public opinion and a statesmanlike treatment of present problems demand that they be seen in their historical relations in order that history may hold the lamp for conservative reform.

Seen from the vantage-ground of present developments what new light falls upon past events! When we consider what the Mississippi Valley has come to be in American life, and when we consider what it is yet to be, the young Washington, crossing the snows of the wilderness to summon the French to evacuate the portals of the great valley, becomes the herald of an empire. When we recall the huge industrial power that has centered at Pittsburgh, Braddock's advance to the forks of the Ohio takes on new meaning. Even in defeat, he opened a road to what is now the center of the world's industrial energy. The modifications which England proposed in 1794 to John Jay in the northwestern boundary of the United States from the Lake of the Woods to the Mississippi, seemed to him, doubtless, significant chiefly as a matter of principle and as a question of the retention or loss of beaver grounds. The historians hardly notice the proposals. But they involved, in fact, the ownership of the richest and most extensive deposits of iron ore in America, the all-important source of a fundamental industry of the United States, the occasion for the rise of some of the most influential forces of our time.

What continuity and meaning are furnished by the outcome in present times of the movements of minor political parties and reform agitations! To the historian they have often seemed to be mere curious side eddies, vexatious distractions to the course of his literary craft as it navigated the stream of historical tendency. And yet, by the revelation of the present, what seemed to be side eddies have not seldom proven to be the concealed entrances to the main current, and the course which seemed the central one has led to blind channels and stagnant waters, important in their day, but cut off like ox-bow lakes from the mighty river of historical progress by the mere permanent and compelling forces of the neglected currents.

We may trace the contest between the capitalist and the democratic pioneer from the earliest colonial days. It is influential in colonial parties. It is seen in the vehement protests of Kentucky frontiersmen in petition after petition to the Congress of the Confederation against the 'nabobs' and men of wealth who took out titles to the pioneers' farms while they themselves were too busy defending those farms from the Indians to perfect their claims. It is seen in the attitude of the Ohio Valley in its backwoods days before the rise of the Whig party, as when in 1811 Henry Clay denounced the Bank of the United States as a corporation which throve on special privileges - 'a special association of favored individuals taken from the mass of society, and invested with exemptions and surrounded by immunities and privileges.' Benton voiced the same contest twenty years later when he denounced the bank as

a company of private individuals, many of them foreigners, and the mass of them residing in a remote and narrow corner of the Union, unconnected by any sympathy with the fertile regions of the Great Valley in which the natural power of this Union, the power of numbers, will be found to reside long before the renewed term of the second charter would expire.

'And where,' he asked, 'would all this power and money center? In the great cities of the Northeast, which have been for forty years and that by force of federal legislation, the lion's den of Southern and Western money -that den into which all the tracks point inward; from which the returning track of a solitary dollar has never yet been seen.' Declaring, in words that have a very modern sound, that the bank tended to multiply nabobs and paupers, and that 'a great moneyed power is favorable to great capitalists, for it is the principle of capital to favor capital,' he appealed to the fact of the country's extent and its sectional divergences against the nationalizing of capital.

What a condition for a confederacy of states! What grounds for alarm and terrible apprehension when in a confederacy of such vast extent, so many rival commercial cities, so much sectional jealousy, such violent political parties, such fierce contests for power, there should be but one moneyed tribunal before which all the rival and contending elements must appear.

Even more vehement were the words of Jackson in 1837. 'It is now plain,' he wrote, 'that the war is to be carried on by the monied aristocracy of the few against the democracy of numbers; the [prosperous] to make the honest laborers hewers of wood and drawers of water through the credit and paper system.'

Van Buren's administration is usually passed hastily over with hardly more than mention of his Independent Treasury plan, and with particular consideration of the slavery discussion. But some of the most important movements in American social and political history began in these years of Jackson and Van Buren. Read the demands of the obscure labor papers and the reports of labor's open-air meetings anew, and you will find in the utterances of so-called labor visionaries and the Locofoco champions of 'equal rights for all and special privileges for none,' like Evans and Jacques, Byrdsall and Leggett, the finger points to the currents that now make the main channel of our history; you will find in them some of the important planks of the platforms of the triumphant parties of our own day. As Professor Commons has shown by his papers and the documents which he has published on labor history, an idealistic but widespread and influential humanitarian movement, strikingly similar to that of the present, arose in the years between 1830 and 1850, dealing with social forces in American life, animated by a desire to apply the public lands to social amelioration, eager to find new forms of democratic development. But the flood of the slavery struggle swept all of these movements into its mighty inundation for the time. After the war, other influences delayed the revival of the movement. The railroads opened the wide prairies after 1850 and made it easy to reach them; and decade after decade new sections were reduced to the purposes of civilization and to the advantages of the common man as well as the promotion of great individual fortunes. The nation centered its interests in the development of the West. It is only in our own day that this humanitarian democratic wave has reached the level of those earlier years. But in the meantime there are clear evidences of the persistence of the forces, even though under strange guise. Read the platforms of the Greenback-Labor, the Granger, and the Populist parties, and you will find in those platforms, discredited and reprobated by the major parties of the time, the basic proposals of the Democratic party after its revolution under the leadership of Mr Bryan, and of the Republican party after its revolution by Mr Roosevelt. The Insurgent movement is so clearly related to the areas and elements that gave strength to this progressive assertion of old democratic ideals with new weapons, that it must be regarded as the organized refusal of these persistent tendencies to be checked by the advocates of more moderate measures.

I have dealt with these fragments of party history, not, of course, with the purpose of expressing any present judgment upon them, but to emphasize and give con-creteness to the fact that there is disclosed by present events a new significance to these contests of radical democracy and conservative interests; that they are rather a continuing expression of deep-seated forces than fragmentary and sporadic curios for the historical museum.

If we should survey the history of our lands from a similar point of view, considering the relations of legislation and administration of the public domain to the structure of American democracy, it would yield a return far beyond that offered by the formal treatment of the subject in most of our histories. We should find in the squatter doctrines and practices, the seizure of the best soils, the taking of public timber on the theory of a right to it by the labor expended on it, fruitful material for understanding the atmosphere and ideals under which the great corporations developed the West. Men like Senator Benton and Delegate Sibley in successive generations defended the trespasses of the pioneer and the lumberman upon the public forest lands, and denounced the paternal government that 'harassed' these men, who were engaged in what we should call stealing government timber. It is evident that at some time between the middle of the nineteenth century and the present time, when we impose jail sentences upon Congressmen caught in such violations of the land laws, a change came over the American conscience and the civic ideals were modified. That our great industrial enterprises developed in the midst of these changing ideals is important to recall when we write the history of their activity.

We should find also that we cannot understand the land question without seeing its relations to the struggle of sections and classes bidding against each other and finding in the public domain a most important topic of political bargaining. We should find, too, that the settlement of unlike geographic areas in the course of the nation's progress resulted in changes in the effect of the land laws; that a system intended for the humid prairies was ill-adjusted to the grazing lands and coal fields and to the forests in the days of large-scale exploitation by corporations commanding great capital. Thus changing geographic factors as well as the changing character of the forces which occupied the public domain must be considered, if we would understand the bearing of legislation and policy in this field. It is fortunate that suggestive studies of democracy and the land policy have already begun to appear.

The whole subject of American agriculture viewed in relation to the economic, political, and social life of the nation has important contributions to make. If, for example, we study the maps showing the transition of the wheat belt from the East to the West, as the virgin soils were conquered and made new bases for destructive competition with the older wheat States, we shall see how deeply they affected not only land values, railroad building, the movement of population, and the supply of cheap food, but also how the regions once devoted to single cropping of wheat were forced to turn to varied and intensive agriculture and to diversified industry, and we shall see also how these transformations affected party politics and even the ideals of the Americans of the regions thus changed. We shall find in the overproduction of wheat in the provinces thus rapidly colonized, and in the over-production of silver in the mountain provinces which were contemporaneously exploited, important explanations of the peculiar form which American politics took in the period when Mr Bryan mastered the Democratic party, just as we shall find in the opening of the new gold fields in the years immediately following, and in the passing of the era of almost free virgin wheat soils, explanations of the more recent period when high prices are giving new energy and aggressiveness to the demands of the new American industrial democracy.

Enough has been said, it may be assumed, to make clear the point which I am trying to elucidate, namely that a comprehension of the United States of to-day, an understanding of the rise and progress of the forces which have made it what it is, demands that we should rework our history from the new points of view afforded by the present. If this is done, it will be seen, for example, that the progress of the struggle between North and South over slavery and the freed negro, which held the principal place in American interest in the two decades after 1850, was, after all, only one of the interests in the time. The pages of the Congressional debates, the contemporary newspapers, the public documents of those twenty years, remain a rich mine for those who will seek therein the sources of movements dominant in the present day.

The final consideration to which I ask your attention in this discussion of social forces in American life, is with reference to the mode of investigating them and the bearing of these investigations upon the relations and the goal of history. It has become a precedent, fairly well established by the distinguished scholars who have held the office which I am about to lay down, to state a position with reference to the relations of history and its sister-studies, and even to raise the question of the attitude of the historian toward the laws of thermodynamics and to seek to find the key of historical development or of historical degradation. It is not given to all to bend the bow of Ulysses. I shall attempt a lesser task.

We may take some lessons from the scientist. He has enriched knowledge especially in recent years by attacking the no-man's lands left unexplored by the too sharp delimitation of spheres of activity. These new conquests have been especially achieved by the combination of old sciences. Physical chemistry, electrochemistry, geo-physics, astro-physics, and a variety of other scientific unions have led to audacious hypotheses, veritable flashes of vision, which open new regions of activity for a generation of investigators. Moreover they have promoted such investigations by furnishing new instruments of research. Now in some respects there is an analogy between geology and history. The new geologist aims to describe the inorganic earth dynamically in terms of natural law, using chemistry, physics, mathematics, and even botany and zoology so far as they relate to paleontology. But he does not insist that the relative importance of physical or chemical factors shall be determined before he applies the methods and data of these sciences to his problem. Indeed, he has learned that a geological area is too complex a thing to be reduced to a single explanation. He has abandoned the single hypothesis for the multiple hypothesis. He creates a whole family of possible explanations of a given problem and thus avoids the warping influence of partiality for a simple theory.

Have we not here an illustration of what is possible and necessary for the historian? Is it not well, before attempting to decide whether history requires an economic interpretation, or a psychological, or any other ultimate interpretation, to recognize that the factors in human society are varied and complex; that the political historian handling his subject in isolation is certain to miss fundamental facts and relations in his treatment of a given age or nation; that the economic historian is exposed to the same danger; and so of all of the other special historians?

Those who insist that history is simply the effort to tell the thing exactly as it was, to state the facts, are confronted with the difficulty that the fact which they would represent is not planted on the solid ground of fixed conditions; it is in the midst and is itself a part of the changing currents, the complex and interacting influences of the time, deriving its significance as a fact from its relations to the deeper-seated movements of the age, movements so gradual that often only the passing years can reveal the truth about the fact and its right to a place on the historian's page.

The economic historian is in danger of making his analysis and his statement of a law on the basis of present conditions and then passing to history for justificatory appendixes to his conclusions. An American economist of high rank has recently expressed his conception of 'the full relation of economic theory, statistics, and history' in these words:

A principle is formulated by a priori reasoning concerning facts of common experience; it is then tested by statistics and promoted to the rank of a known and acknowledged truth; illustrations of its action are then found in narrative history and, on the other hand, the economic law becomes the interpreter of records that would otherwise be confusing and comparatively valueless; the law itself derives its final confirmation from the illustrations of its working which the records afford; but what is at least of equal importance is the parallel fact that the law affords the decisive test of the correctness of those assertions concerning the causes and the effects of past events which it is second nature to make and which historians almost invariably do make in connection with their narrations.

There is much in this statement by which the historian may profit, but he may doubt also whether the past should serve merely as the 'illustration' by which to confirm the law deduced from common experience by a priori reasoning tested by statistics. In fact the pathway of history is strewn with the wrecks of the 'known and acknowledged truths' of economic law, due not only to defective analysis and imperfect statistics, but also to the lack of critical historical methods, of insufficient historical-mindedness on the part of the economist, to failure to give due attention to the relativity and tran-siency of the conditions from which his laws were deduced.

But the point on which I would lay stress is this. The economist, the political scientist, the psychologist, the sociologist, the geographer, the student of literature; of art, of religion - all the allied laborers in the study of society - have contributions to make to the equipment of the historian. These contributions are partly of material, partly of tools, partly of new points of view, new hypotheses, new suggestions of relations, causes, and emphasis. Each of these special students is in some danger of bias by his particular point of view, by his exposure to see simply the thing in which he is primarily interested, and also by his effort to deduce the universal laws of his separate science. The historian, on the other hand, is exposed to the danger of dealing with the complex and interacting social forces of a period or of a country, from some single point of view to which his special training or interest inclines him. If the truth is to be made known, the historian must so far familiarize himself with the work, and equip himself with the training of his sister-subjects that he can at least avail himself of their results and in some reasonable degree master the essential tools of their trade. And the followers of the sister-studies must likewise familiarize themselves and their students with the work and the methods of the historians, and cooperate in the difficult task.

It is necessary that the American historian shall aim at this equipment, not so much that he may possess the key to history or satisfy himself in regard to its ultimate laws. At present a different duty is before him. He must see in American society with its vast spaces, its sections equal to European nations, its geographic influences, its brief period of development, its variety of nationalities and races, its extraordinary industrial growth under the conditions of freedom, its institutions, culture, ideals, social psychology, and even its religions forming and changing almost under his eyes, one of the richest fields ever offered for the preliminary recognition and study of the forces that operate and interplay in the making of society.