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’爾夫’’爾’’’’生
(RALPH WALDO EMERSON)
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Self-Reliance
’蠢’堅’’衆’’’’心’’’’’’’’’’
’著學園’動’’’’’’生成’’’’’’’’’說’’學園’動’’’’’’’’’’’’有組織’成’教’’’種早期’式’它’’種’及’’問’’學’問’’’說’’論’’論’’’國’’’中’部’’’’區’該’動’’裏’’’給學生講學’雅’學’’’’爲諸’’’生’’’’’衛’梭羅’蘇’’比’’’尼’弗’’裏’’’’’斯’’撒尼爾’’’等’說’提’’’個講壇’收’’源’
’’生’’’’’Ｗ學’引’’’’’’’’’’聽衆’’’’’內心’我’’’覺’’’’’’爲生’’’實’’’’’那’’’傳統’’’’教條’’提’’’戰’對’個’’’’’不墨’陳’’’’對’厭’’’’’內心’實’’’說’’’生’言辭’有’’’’引’’’國’’’’輕’都重’’掘’’生’’’’’’雜文’’’生’最’’’’’’有警’式’文’’熱情’溢’個’’’’該文最’’’’1841’’’生’第’部散文集中’
’’日’我讀’’’著’’’’詩’’’’’’’而’不落’’’’’’’’種詩’中’不論’’’’什麽’心’’’聽’’種’’’詩’中’’’’’情比它們’’’’’’內’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’對’心’’說’’實’’對’有’’’’’’實’’’’’’天’’’’蜇伏’’內心’’’’它’’有普’’’’’’爲最內’’終’成爲最’’’’’我們最’’’’終’’’’最’’’日’喇’’中’’’應’儘管心’’’音對’’個’’說都’熟’’’’’我們’爲’摩’’’’圖’彌爾’最’不’’’’’’們蔑視’本’傳統’’們論及’不’’們’’’’而’’們’’’’’’’應當學’’’’’’’察’’內心’’’’而不’詩’’偉’們’’’’’’’’們’不’’’’’棄’’’’’’’’爲那’’’’’’’’’’部天’’’’中’我們都’’找’我們’’’棄’’那’’’’它們’著’種陌生’’’’’我們’’’’偉’’藝’’’給我們最’’’教誨’’’’’最平’而’最執著’’’遵’內心’’而’産生’’’’’’’’’應’’’正’囂塵’’’’’’天’個’’’’’’’’’’’’’高談那’’我們曾’’’’’’’’’模’樣’’’’而我們’’’’’’’’’手中接’我們’’’’’’
’個’’’教’’’中’’有’天’’識’’妒忌’’’’模仿’’殺’不論’歹’’個’都必須接’屬’’’那’’’’闊’’’裏雖’’滿’’饈’’’’’’有’給予’’’’’那’’’’裏’’’辛勤勞動收穫’’’’’有營’’’’’體內’’’’實質’’’生’’’’’有’’’’’’’’’什麽’而’’’’有’嘗試之’’’’曉’’’面孔’’個’’’’樁’情’’心中’’’’’’而’’’’不’’’’不’’’’’’’’’憶中’塑像’’’’’驗’’諧’眼睛’’’’’’’’’’’’方’’樣它’’’’’’那’’’’’’讓’’扡’’’’部’’’’我們對’’’’’’掩掩’對我們’個’’’’’’’’’’’羞’’我們完’’’視’’’爲’我們’稱’而’有’’’’’’’’應當’實’’揚它’不’’’’’不’’懦夫揭示’’傑’’’’有’’’’’’’’示’’’’’’當’個’’身心傾’’’’中’’’竭盡’’’’’候’’’’’’解脫’’樂’’’’’’爲’’’言’忐忑不’’’’’’’有解脫’解脫’’’問’’爲’’’天賦’’棄’’有’’’’爲友’’有’’’’’有’望’
’’’’’’’’顆心都’著那’跳動’接’’’爲’找’’’’’’’’’組成’’’’’網’偉’’’’’’像’’’’’’’’’給’’’精’’’’’們’’’’’’’正’’們內心引’騷動’正假’們之手’’’’’’馭著’們整個身心’我們’’’必須’我們最高’’心’中接’’樣’驗’’’’我們不’’’’牆
角裏’不’像懦夫’樣’革’關’’脫’我們必須’贖’’’’’’’’’誠’有志’’’’’’’’’之’’讓我們’著’’亂’’’著黑’衝’’’
’’話’當我們’’’’’聽’’’’當我們邁’’’’’’話音’減’’’聽不’’’’’’’都’防’’’’成Ⅸ成熟’’’陰謀’’’’’個’’公’’’’公’裏’成Ⅸ們爲’讓’個’’’’’’’’’’那’麵’’’’’棄’麵’’’’由’文化’它最需’’’’’’衆’’’它厭’’’’’’生’它鍾’’不’’實’創’’’而’’’’習’’
任’’副’實’’正’’’都必須’不落’’’’’任’採集’’棕擱葉’’’都不應當’’’’’’’善’而應當’掘善之本身’除’我們心’’’誠之’’’’’’切’’結蒂都不’’’’’解脫’’’’’’我’’’必’’’’’’’’’’’’當我還’’’’候’有’頗’’’重’’’’’習’不厭’煩’’我灌輸’教’’老教條’有’’’我’不’’’’’’’聽’我說’’’我完’’內心’’’’生’’那麽我’那’’’’傳統’嘛’’我’’’’友提’說’“’’’內心’衝動’’’’’’’而不’高’’’”我’答說’“’我’’’’不’’’’不’’倘’我’’鬼’’’’那麽我’’照’鬼’’’’生’’”除’天’’’’之’’’我’’’’有任’’’’’’’’’’’’’不’’個’’而’’不’’灰之’’’’’’它’’’身’移’那’身’’唯’正’’’’順’’身結’’’’’唯’錯’’’’’’身結’’’’’’個’面對反對’見’’’措應當像除’’’’之’’’’’’切都’有’’實’’眼煙雲’’我’’’’’我們’’’’成爲’’’’’’’虜’成爲’’’’團’’’生’’習’’’虜’任’’個正’’談’’雅之’都比’’’懈’擊’’’’’’我’左’我’我應當正’’誠’生’’’’’’種方式’抒未’’飾’’’’’
我必須做’’’切’我有關’’’而不’’’’’我做’’’’條’’’’’實生’’精’生’中都’’樣’巨’難’’它’偉’’’賤’整個區’’它’變’’’’巨’’’’’’’’’’’’爲比’’’’懂’什麽’’’’任’’’’照’’’’’’’’’’生’’件’’’’’’照’’’’’’’離’’’’不難’’’’身’’’之間’’’盡善盡’’’’’’著個’’立’’’’有偉’’’辦’’’
’’’’’’’’’’生’’習’’’’爲’’習’’盡’’精’’它’’’’’’’隱’’’’’’’’’’’’生’’教堂’爲’’生’’’’’’款’投’黨’票擁’’反對’’’’’’’粗’’管’’什麽’樣’’那麽’’有’’’障’’我’’難準’’’’’竟’什麽樣’’’當’’’樣做’’’’生’本身中’’’應’精’’’而’’’’’做’’’’’做’’’那麽我’’’’’’’’什麽樣’’’做’’’’’’’’’’中’’’’身’’個’必須’’’’’衆’’’異’’’’’眼睛’假’我’’’屬’’個教’’我’’’見’’’’用’論據’我曾’聽’’傳教’’稱’’’講’’’’都’’’’’教’’’’’’’難’我不’早’’’’’本不’’’興說’’話嗎?’’算’’’部分’都用’樣’那樣’手’’’’’’眼睛’’’’’’’’個’團’’’’’’種’’’’迫’’們不僅僅’’’細’’’虛’假’說’’假話’而’’’有’細’’都’虛’假’’們’有’’’都不太’’’們’’’不’’正’’’’們’’’不’’正’’’’們說’’’個’都’我們失望’而我們’不’’該’’’’手’’正它’’’’’’’
’落’’我們身’’’我們’’’’’黨’’犯號’’我們都’著’樣’面孔’’著’樣’’式’’漸習’最有紳’風’而’’蠢’像’’樣’’’方式’尤’值’’提’’’種丟’’’’’’’歷’’’’’’’’’’’歷’我’’’“傻’’’’維”’’我們渾身不’’’’’’’’’’’’’’堆’’種假’’我們’’’興趣’話’’腔’’’’’堆’’種’’’’面部’肉不’’’’’’’而’爲’種’’’’’心’’’’’’’引’’肉’面’’邊’’緊緊’’給’’種最不’快’’覺’’種’’備’警’’’覺’’種’覺’任’’敢’’輕’都絕不’’’體驗第’次’
’’用不快’’撻不落’’’’’’對’’’堅’’探諳’’’’’說’’忍有教’’紳’們’憤’不’件難’’’們’憤’’正’’體’謹’穩重’’’爲’們本身’’’’’’’’難’’’’們’’’’’’’’’引’’們那’’’有’憤’’’憤’’有’升’’倘’’’’’’’’們’Ｏ’’倘’’’’’’’’’’’’野’’’’慫’’’’難’那’需’’成’宏’’’’教’習’’像’’樣把它當’’關緊’’瑣’’
’’個’我們不敢’’’’懼’我們’’’衆’’’’’我們對’’’’’’’’爲’’’之情’’爲’’’眼裏’夠藉’評’我們’爲’迹’’據’除’我們’’’’爲之’’’’’’而我們’不’’’’們失望’
’’’’爲什麽’’’’’?爲什麽’老’’著’憶’僵’’唯’說’’’曾’’’個’那個公’場’說’話有’’矛’’話’’?倘’’說’’’’矛’’話’那’’麽樣’?
’蠢’堅’’衆’’’心’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’Ｗ學’’’學’們’’’’件’偉’’’’’本’不’’衆’’’’’’倒’關心’’落’牆’’’’’’’把’’’那’’’用’裝’把雙’’’’’’’’’’’做’個’正’’’話’今天’’說什麽’說什麽’像’’’’’樣’’天’’說什麽’照樣斬’’’’說什麽’’’跟’今天說’’切都’’互予’’’’’’老婦’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’解’’’解’’’’個傻瓜’’眼’’’’解’那麽不’嗎?畢’哥’斯’’’解’蘇’’’’’’’路’’哥白尼’’’略’’’’’’’’粹而’’’’曾’生’’’’都曾’’’解’’’做個偉’’’’’’’’’解’’
I read the
other day some verses written by an eminent painter which were original and not
conventional. Always the soul hears an admonition in such lines, let the subject
be what it may. The sentiment they instil is of more value than any thought they
may contain. To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you
in your private heart is true for all men,--that is genius. Speak your latent
conviction, and it shall be universal sense; for always the inmost becomes the
outmost--and our first thought is rendered back to us by the trumpets of the
Last Judgment. Familiar as the voice of the mind is to each, the highest merit
we ascribe to Moses, Plato and Milton is that they set at naught books and
traditions, and spoke not what men, but what they thought, A man should learn to
detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within,
more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages. Yet he dismisses
without notice his thought, because it is his. In every work of genius we
recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come back to us with a certain
alienated majesty. Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than
this. They teach us to abide by our spontaneous impression with good-humored
inflexibility then most when the whole cry of voices is on the other side. Else
to-morrow a stranger will say with masterly good sense precisely what we have
thought and felt all the time, and we shall be forced to take with shame our own
opinion from another.
There is
a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is
ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better for
worse as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel
of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of
ground which is given to him to till. The power which resides in him is new in
nature, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know
until he has tried. Not for nothing one face, one character, one fact, makes
much impression on him, and another none. It is not without preestablished
harmony, this sculpture in the memory. The eye was placed where one ray should
fall, that it might testily of that particular ray. Bravely let him speak the
utmost syllable of his confession. We but half express ourselves, and are
ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents. It may be safely
trusted as proportionate and of good issues, so it be faithfully imparted, but
God will not have his work made manifest by cowards. It needs a divine man to
exhibit anything divine. A man is relieved and gay when he has put his heart
into his work and done his best; but what he has said or done otherwise shall
give him no peace. It is a deliverance which does not deliver. In the attempt
his genius deserts him; no muse befriends; no invention, no hope.
Trust
thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the divine
providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connexion
of events. Great men have always done so, and confided themselves childlike to
the genius of their age, betraying their perception that the Eternal was
stirring at their heart, working through their hands, predominating in all their
being. And we are now men, and must accept in the highest mind the same
transcendent destiny; and not pinched in a corner, not cowards fleeing before a
revolution, but redeemers and benefactors, pious aspirants to be noble clay
under the Almighty effort let us advance on Chaos and the Dark’
These are
the voices which we hear in solitude, but they grow faint and inaudible as we
enter into the world. Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of
every one of its members. Society is a joint-stock company, in which the members
agree, for the better securing of his bread to each shareholder, to surrender
the liberty and culture of the eater. The virtue in most request is conformity.
Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names
and customs.
Whoso
would be a man, must be a nonconformist. He who would gather immortal palms must
not be hindered by the name of goodness, but must explore if it be goodness.
Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of our own mind. Absolve you to
yourself, and you shall have the suffrage of the world. I remember an answer
which when quite young I was prompted to make to a valued adviser who was wont
to importune me with the dear old doctrines of the church. On my saying, What
have I to do with the sacredness of traditions, if I live wholly from within? My
friend suggested,--"But these impulses may be from below, not from above." I
replied. "They do not seem to me to be such; but if I am the devil's child, I
will live then from the devil." No law can be sacred to me but that of my
nature. Good and bad are but names very readily transferable to that or this;
the only right is that is after my constitution; the only wrong what is against
it. A man is to carry himself in the presence of all opposition as if every
thing were titular and ephemeral but he. I am ashamed to think how easily we
capitulate to badges and names, to large societies and dead institutions. Every
decent and well-spoken individual affects and sways me more than is right. I
ought to go upright and vital, and speak the rude truth in all ways. . . .
What I
must do is all that concerns me, not what the people think. This rule, equally
arduous in actual and in intellectual life, may serve for the whole distinction
between greatness and meanness. It is the harder because you will always find
those who think they know what is your duty better than you know it. It is easy
in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live
after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with
perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.
The
objection to conforming to usages that have become dead to you is that it
scatters your force. It loses your time and blurs the impression of your
character. If you maintain a dead church, contribute to a dead Bible Society,
vote with a great party either for the Government or against it, spread your
table like base housekeepers,--under all these screens I have difficulty to
detect the precise man you are. And of course so much force is withdrawn from
your proper life. But do your thing, and I shall know you. Do your work, and you
shall reinforce yourself. A man must consider what a blind man's-buff is this
game of conformity. If I know your sect I anticipate your argument. I hear a
preacher announce for his text and topic the expediency of one of the
institutions of his church. Do I not know beforehand that not possibly can he
say a new and spontaneous word?
. . . Well,
most men have bound their eyes with one or another handkerchief, and attached
themselves to some one of these communities of opinion. This conformity makes
them not false in a few particulars, authors of a few lies, but false in all
particulars. Their every truth is not quite true. Their two is not the real two,
their four not the real four: so that every word they say chagrins us and we
know not where to begin to set them right. Meantime nature is not slow to equip
us in the prison-uniform of the party to which we adhere. We come to wear one
cut of face and figure, and acquire by degrees the gentlest asinine expression.
There is a mortifying experience in particular, which does not fail to wreak
itself also in the general history; I mean "the foolish face of praise," the
forced smile which we put on in company where we do not feel at ease, in answer
to conversation which does not interest us. The muscles, not spontaneously moved
but moved by a low usurping wilfulness, grow tight about the outline of the
face, and make the most disagreeable sensation; a sensation of rebuke and
warning which no brave young man will suffer twice.
For
nonconformity the world whips you with its displeasure. . . . It is easy enough
for a firm man who knows the world to brook the rage of the cultivated classes.
Their rage is decorous and prudent, for they are timid, as being very vulnerable
themselves. But when to their feminine rage the indignation of the people is
added, when the ignorant and the poor are aroused, when the unintelligent brute
force that lies at the bottom of society is made to growl and mow, it needs the
habit of magnanimity and religion to treat it godlike as a trifle of no
concernment.
The other
terror that scares us from self-trust is our consistency; a reverence for our
past act or word because the eyes of others have no other data for computing our
orbit than our past acts, and we are loath to disappoint them.
But why
should you keep your head over your shoulder? Why drag about this monstrous
corpse of your memory, lest you contradict somewhat you have stated in this or
that public place? Suppose you should contradict yourself; what then? . . .
A foolish
consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and
philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to
do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Out upon your
guarded lips! Sew them up with packthread, do. Else if you would be a man speak
what you think to-day in words as hard as cannon balls, and to-morrow speak what
tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said
to-day. Ah, then, exclaim the aged ladies, you shall be sure to be
misunderstood! Misunderstood! It is a right fool's word. Is it so bad then to be
misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and
Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and
Newton,
and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be
misunderstood. . . .
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