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E’B’’’
(E.B. WHITE)
’由
Freedom
’個’’’今’著’’’心情’’’’爲’’’’’第’個’’掉腦’’
E’B’’’(1899-1985)生’’’’’弗’’畢’’’’爾’學’’’’’爲’’’’’雜’擔任’職撰’’’’’’’’頗有’詣’散文’’’’’’’詩’’諷’’’’對’’’’國’童’說’’之’’’’’’爲’第’’’’童讀’
’’斯圖’’’(1945)
’ ’’’’’網’(1952)’’’’’’學生’’’熟’’’’爲’’
’風’’’’’’本’’’著’
(’’’’)’該’’關’’文’’用’’’有價值’’’’’最’由’’’爾’學教’’’’’’’’’’斯’’’教授撰’’散文
’’由’’1940’7月首’由’’潑斯’雜’’’’當’’國’未’’反對’粹’戰’’’’正’’’粹’’蘇’條’’’期’’論左’’’’都’略’極’’’對民’’’’’’’散文收’’’’文集’’個’’肉食’(1942)’
’我’’’’中’’’’’’們改’’裝式樣趕’髦’’’我’次’’’市’’’’’們’’’重’裁’’’’’’’’’’’部把’們’’’改’’’’’’’’’們’’心’用’歷’’最’’頁抄襲’’式樣’’’’’’整’’飾裝扮’’’我覺’’’’們跟巴黎’跟’太’’’
’’’說’我簡’’翻’’當我’’有’’照正’國’’’成’’’暴’調整’’’’’’’’’’噁心’由’’’身’’本局限’’’我’’’’斯’’’不’任’折’妥’’’’’’而’我’’’’’’傲’’’’’’’’我’對’由’樸’’仰中’’’不成熟’迹’’’’說’爲’個’應該’由’生’’幼’’’’’那麽我倒樂’抑’’’’’’’讓’’’’有’’’成’’
我’介紹’’我’’’聽’’’’’談’論’’個’對我說’’’爲’粹’’’’’比我們’憲’’’’’’’完’’“’爲’’’’’嗎’’’’’’裏’那’’輕’’國’有著’’’’麽’’機’’’啊’”’補’’’“我們’國’’輕’’整天’’’’’’們’’’’’’”’’’’對’實’’結’對’’歐’’解釋’’’話’我’驚’倘’它’’我們智’’’’’那麽’’’’’穩’’’’不’’我國’’’’’少’折’
’’個’’’我’我們關’’衆’’’民’概’’’敗不值’提’’“’爲’國’’’爛’那裏’’’’鎮槽’’”’’’’’’爲民’’不’救藥’唯’’由’’顯’’’’’’仿’’對’敗’剖’比’’’內’’對實情’’察比’’’’徹’
’有’’’生對我說’’’’’任’’類’’’’都’’’’當’傻瓜’’說’“正’爲’’’梭’’爾賽’’’’爲”’’’’’’除’’爛’有什麽’’’’’’說那場戰’’’’’之’’’不’’’’次戰’’’’’傾’完’’堂而’之’推’’’’平’’’’
還有’個’’’我熱’’騰’樣’’’’’我’棄’’脫’立場’批評我’屬’疑論’’’’’’’’’’不’’’有’’’言亂’’’’’’’’寧’選擇天’’’’’’角’’’說’’’任’’個有’智’’應盡’’任’(我’’’’’’’’打’’話對’’’’’評論’補’說’’仿’’’乘’’’車’’’路’喪失’’分天’’)
’’’’’’’圍’’’街談’議’’’類談話’滿失敗’’’幻滅’’有’’滿裝模’樣’天’’’’’個’’’’今’們不僅’極高’’’’’殘殺’而’用天’’謊言互’欺’’我’聽’’’類議論累’’’’’亂’心’’’’’’’’它們比俯衝’’機’’’區’’’’’’’爲它們不僅攻擊’個’’’’’’’而’攻擊’’防’’’’’我’’它們’’’種’’’種’’未’’由’正交’’’’解’由’’’種’’’’’’我本’’爲’’’’憤’結’’’’’’麻痹’’種模棱’’’’’’像’個’’’’’粒’’’藥’’’反應’我’’’’個’’解’反’情緒正’不’’’’’公不’’著羞’之心飽’眼’’視殘忍’反’’’’而’’眼’’’仿’用精心’’’’鏡’察’種’’’
’當今’’’個’’少’’做’’’’’’闡’立場’’個’’’’’’們’’’’’誠’情’’’由’’’’陸誕生’’今我’’樣’’’’’誠’’情’仰’由’我正快快撰’我’’言’仿’’’’’’’趕’’’車’國’’生’’件給’們’種’間緊迫’’覺’’實我’不’爲’間太緊’倘’’給讀’’成’種’’’我’讀’’示’’’我’’’’變’遲’之’’’’們’我熱’’由’’種’情’分’’’由’’’’而’我’疑那’’’’’斯’’’’裁’正打贏戰’’’’’應’它們’’’’種’應’散’’’’’我’緊’’’鼻’’
’’’’’’’候’’我’’有’’種’’’’中’由’’’生’’’識’我不’說’’喜’不’’’’’動’’’我’生’’’’有’’’’’’質’我攜’著關’’個’’’’’’’文件’’’我’’憑’覺’識’’個’’’’’’立’極端重’’條’’’’’完’屬’’’’’’’’’’’’趨’’’’’’’’’’用’’’個’’之間’偶’關’’’’’’’像’’’’’執著’’’’’’’我’最’’最熱’’戀情’生’’’’我們’稱’’由之間’它’’’’限’’’’’’’’’’’高’’給予我們’有’’生機’’’’
它’
’縈繞’心’’關’’’’精’生’’’示(我’’’個’童都領’’’種’示’關’’類心中’’’’’示’關’’’’’’“我”’’’’身’’示’’種難’’’’’覺’動’’’’’難忘’’它’
’’生’早期’比’說’日’’晚’個’’坐’’’’’階’’’腦中’有什
麼’’’’’’’’’仿’’第’次’’’’覺聽見’’’’’’’心中’滿’’’’’’夥’’蟲’’’’黑’打成’’’’’’覺’’識’對’’普’’’’’’’問’’’“‘我’’什麼?”’’’’答’’比方說有個’’’剛剛’葬’’’’’’’鳥’’’裏’’窗而’’’’’撐’窗’’’’嗅’陌生’’’’’’’’’’識’’’’’整個’’中’’個角’’’比’說’’’’’’’第’次’’’’’不’’老’’’’教’’偶’’’話’’種情緒喚醒’學生’覺’’而’個’’由’’’’’立’’’’’’’’’識’’身’’’’我’爲’’’’’身’’’種’覺’’’’’’’’’’’不’’’’’它’’種精’’衝動’由應變’’對’生’不’’’粹動’生’’’’’’’’識引’’’’’’’由’’戀’
’而’個’’’由’’’’’個方面’’爲’’顆’’’’’’動’’’’歷’本’’由’’爲’類’’’’Ⅸ’有’’’’Ⅸ’’擁有’’由’’們對’’’比’’’’普’’’解’’’’’’’’’’’’’戰’’熱’’’論’它’’由實際’’顯’’面’當今’’’有’國’提’’由’’’’’’由’’’’’’’國’’’仍’’公民’’本’’’’’’’集’’論問’’對’’’示贊’’’異議’’公’’場’’’’’說’’’學’選擇’須’’’’’’目’’’’’’件’譜’樂曲’’’’談論’’而不必擔心’’有’’警察’竊聽’交換商’’交’’’’’’’需’’’’’’’候’’它’’’’報’’讀’有關’實’件’’實’’’而不’由國’收’’’’’’’撰’假’’’’’’實’應該引’’個’’’’
’’’’’’’說’’由’’覺’’屬’’’’’’’’’’’說’’由’’’’種民’’結’中’覺’’’’’’雖’’’夫’’’勒’個不’’縛’’成熟’’’’’’身’我們’’’’’種’覺’’讀’’’’之’我推測’’對’’’’’不’’望’用而’
極欲’據統’’’’’對’類’’’不’’平’’’而’’們’夠’’個’有’’’智’’’’’變成’種模式’’’們’生’’不’’著個’’’分’’’而’’’著讓’們’個’’’’’’種族’’’當’’’’勒’著’中’’’對’’類’’等蔑視’’’對日爾曼民族’’’’’’’’失’’’’’’’“我學’’’’’’’民極’原’’’見’論’’”對’’勒’說’’個普’’’任’操’’用’原’’’’不’把’民稱爲綿羊’笨’’’’’白癡’’而正’’’’’’’’絕對’誠’對’’’’’諾最’’獎賞’
’’國’裏’生’’’由原’有’’’機’’’爲我們’’’’’立’對個’’’心而’對個’’輕蔑之’’我’’該原’必須’必’’’’’’’解’由’任’’心’’’由’’應該做’’’而熱’’由’’’’’’’國’生’’有’脾’’’’由’’’’’’’’個’’’對我’說仍’’動’心’’驗’
’我’奮鬥’’’’’’’’’生中最早’’’’’’’不’’面’而’’說詞’’情熱’’’’’’’衆投’高’’’’’’動’’’說詞不’’’面’’’們’’’’’’據’個’’’’’’標準而不’’據’’’’’’’’’’評’’’’勒’’’“我’’’’個’’’’說’’’’’’比’面文’’’’’’”’’’’傲’’補’’’“讓我們’’’有’文’’’’’’’’今日’文’’’’’’’最’’變革’’不’由’毛筆引’’!筆桿’’’’’’’’’’用’’’論’’’’’變革’”
’’’’’我’不’’心’改變’’’’有’正爲我改變’’’而’’’驚’’’而我’’’’類’’由精’實質’’歷’不’’’它不’生’’’未’’’’撲滅’’我’’’’’’話僅僅’爲’(借用’’勒’說’)’’論’’’’種精’’我’’’’個握’毛筆’文’’我’’有’解“’’民衆”’’’’’’’我爲筆’’’比’豪’’爲歷’讓筆證’’它’給’們接種’’’器’它’’由’細菌永遠’’體內’圈’’樣任’國’任’’候都’有傷’瑪’式’’菌’’’們’需’’接觸’’’’’傳’’’’’個’’暴’都’’’類’’’暴’們’’’儒’暴’’內心’’懼’’個’’’今’著’’喜’’心情’’’’爲’’’’’第’個’’掉腦’’’’’’’’們掉腦’之’’對我’說’’’’’’樂’’’爲倘’塵’’’’’絕給予我’由’我’等’’’僵’’’’’著腦’還不’’有腦’’’’’斯’’’’那種情’’腦’不’有任’用’’少’那累贅’不輕’’’’
’註’
I have often noticed on my trips up to the city
that people have recut their clothes to follow the fashion. On my last trip,
however, it seemed to me that people had remodeled their ideas too―taken
in their convictions a little at the waist, shortened the sleeves of their
resolve, and fitted themselves out in a new intellectual ensemble copied from a
smart design out of the very latest page of history. It seemed to me they had
strung along with Paris a little too long.
I confess to a disturbed stomach. I feel sick when I find anyone adjusting his
mind to the new tyranny which is succeeding abroad. Because of its fundamental
strictures, fascism does not seem to me to admit of any compromise or any
rationalization, and I resent the patronizing air of persons who find in my
plain belief in freedom a sign of immaturity. If it is boyish to believe that a
human being should live free, then I'll gladly arrest my development and let the
rest of the world grow up.
I shall report some of the strange remarks I heard in New York. One man told me
that he thought perhaps the Nazi ideal was a sounder ideal than our
constitutional system "because have you ever noticed what fine alert young faces
the young German soldiers have in the newsreel? " He added: "Our American
youngsters spend all their time at the movies― they're a mess." That was his
summation of the case, his interpretation of the new Europe. Such a remark
leaves me pale and shaken. If it represents the peak of our intelligence, then
the steady march of despotism will not receive any considerable setback at our
shores.
Another man informed me that our democratic notion of popular government was
decadent and not worth bothering about― "because England is really rotten and
the industrial towns there are a disgrace." That was the only reason he gave for
the hopelessness of democracy; and he seemed mightily pleased with himself, as
though he were more familiar than most with the anatomy of decadence, and had
detected subtler aspects of the situation than were discernible to the rest of
us.
Another man assured me that anyone who took any kind of government seriously was
a gullible fool. You could be sure, he said, that there is nothing but
corruption "because of the way Clemenceau acted at Versailles." He said itdidn't
make any difference really about this war. It was just another war. Having
relieved himself of this majestic bit of reasoning, he subsided.
Another individual, discovering signs of zeal creeping into my blood, berated me
for having lost my detachment, my pure skeptical point of view. He announced
that he wasn't going to be swept away by all this nonsense, but would prefer to
remain in the role of innocent by stander, which he said was the duty of any
intelligent person. (I noticed, that he phoned later to qualify his remark, as
though he had lost some of his innocence in the cab on the way home. )
Those are just a few samples of the sort of talk that seemed to be going round―
talk which was full of defeatism and disillusion and sometimes of a too studied
innocence. Men are not merely annihilating themselves at a great rate these
days, but they are telling one another enormous lies, grandiose fibs. Such
remarks as I heard are fearfully disturbing in their cumulative effect. They are
more destructive than dive bombers and mine fields, for they challenge not
merely one's immediate position but one's main defenses. They seemed to me to
issue either from persons who could never have really come to grips with freedom
so as to understand her, or from renegades. Where I expected to find
indignation, I found paralysis, or a sort of dim acquiescence, as in a child who
is duly swallowing a distasteful pill. I was advised of the growing anti-Jewish
sentiment by a man who seemed to be watching the phenomenon of intolerance not
through tears of shame but with a clear intellectual gaze, as through a
well-ground lens.
The least a man can do at such a time is to declare himself and tell where he
stands. I believe in freedom with the same burning delight, the same faith, the
same intense abandon which attended its birth on this continent more than a
century and a half ago. I am writing my declaration rapidly, much as though I
were shaving to catch a train. Events abroad give a man a feeling of being
pressed for time. Actually I do not believe I am pressed for time, and I
apologize to the reader for a false impression that may be created. I just want
to tell, before I get slowed down, that I am in love with freedom and that it is
an affair of long standing and that it is a fine state to be in, and that I am
deeply suspicious of people who are beginning to adjust to fascism and dictators
merely because they are succeeding in war. From such adaptable natures a smell
rises. I pinch my nose.
For as long as I can remember I have had a sense of living somewhat freely in a
natural world. I don't mean I enjoyed freedom of action, but my existence seemed
to have the quality of freeness. I traveled with secret papers pertaining to a
divine conspiracy. Intuitively I've always been aware of the vitally important
pact which a man has with himself, to be all things to himself, and to be
identified with all things, to stand self-reliant, taking advantage of his
haphazard connection with a planet, riding his luck, and following his bent with
the tenacity of a hound. My first and greatest love affair was with this thing
we call freedom, this lady of infinite allure, this dangerous and beautiful and
sublime being who restores and supplies us all.
It began with the haunting intimation (which I presume every child receives) of
his mystical inner life; of God in man; of nature publishing herself through the
"I." This elusive sensation is moving and memorable. It comes early in life: a
boy, we'll say, sitting on the front stepson a summer night, thinking of nothing
in particular, suddenly hearing as with a new perception and as though for the
first time the pulsing sound of crickets, overwhelmed with the novel sense of
identification with the natural company of insects and grass and night,
conscious of a faint answering cry to the universal perplexing question: "What
is I'?" Or a little girl, returning from the grave of a pet bird leaning with
her elbows on the window sill, inhaling the unfamiliar draught of death,
suddenly seeing herself as part of the complete story. Or to an older youth,
encountering for the first time a great teacher who by some chance word or mood
awakens something and the youth beginning to breathe as an individual and
conscious of strength in his vitals. I think the sensation must develop in many
men as a feeling of identity with God― an eruption of the spirit caused by
allergies and the sense of divine existence as distinct from mere animal
existence. This is the beginning of the affair with freedom.
But a man's free condition is of two parts: the instinctive freeness he
experiences as an animal dweller on a planet, and the practical liberties he
enjoys as a privileged member of human society. The latter is, of the two, more
generally understood, more widely admired, more violently challenged and
discussed. It is the practical and apparent side of freedom. The United States,
almost alone today, offers the liberties and the privileges and the tools of
freedom. In this land the citizens are still invited to write plays and books,
to paint their pictures, to meet for discussion, to dissent as well as to agree,
to mount soapboxes in the public square, to enjoy education in all subjects
without censorship, to hold court and judge one another, to compose music, to
talk politics with their neighbors without wondering whether the secret police
are listening, to exchange ideas as well as goods, to kid the government when it
needs kidding, and to read real news of real events instead of phony news
manufactured by a paid agent of the state. This is a fact and should give every
person pause.
To be free, in a planetary sense, is to feel that you belong to earth. To be
free, in a social sense, is to feel at home in a democratic framework. In Adolph
Hitler, although he is a freely flowering individual, we do not detect either
type of sensibility. From reading his book I gather that his feeling for earth
is not a sense of communion but a driving urge to prevail. His feeling for men
is not that they co-exist, but that they are capable of being arranged and
standardized by a superior intellect― that their existence suggests not a
fulfillment of their personalities but a submersion of their personalities in
the common racial destiny. His very great absorption in the destiny of the
German people somehow loses some of its effect when you discover, from his
writings, in what vast contempt he holds all people. "I learned," he wrote, ". .
. to gain an insight into the unbelievably primitive opinions and arguments of
the people." To him the ordinary man is a primitive, capable only of being used
and led. He speaks continually of people as sheep, halfwits, and impudent fools―
the same people from whom he asks the utmost in loyalty, and to whom he promises
the ultimate in prizes.
Here in America, where our society is based on belief in the individual, not
contempt for him, the free principle of life has a chance of surviving. I
believe that it must and will survive. To understand freedom is an
accomplishment which all men may acquire who set their minds in that direction;
and to love freedom is a tendency which many Americans are born with. To live in
the same room with freedom, or in the same hemisphere, is still a profoundly
shaking experience for me.
One of the earliest truths (and to him most valuable) that the author of Mein
Kampf discovered was that it is not the written word, but the spoken word,
which in heated moments moves great masses of people to noble or ignoble action.
The written word, unlike the spoken word, is something which every person
examines privately and judges calmly by his own intellectual standards, not by
what the man standing next to him thinks. "I know," wrote Hitler, "that one is
able to win people far more by the spoken than by the written word...." Later he
adds contemptuously: "For let it be said to all knights of the pen and to all
the political dandies, especially of today: the greatest changes in this world
have never been brought about by a goose quill! No, the pen has always been
reserved to motivate these changes theoretically."
Luckily I am not out to change the world― that's being done for me, and at a
great clip. But I know that the free spirit of man is persistent in nature; it
recurs, and has never successfully been wiped out, by fire or flood. I set down
the above remarks merely (in the words of Mr. Hitler) to motivate that spirit,
theoretically. Being myself a knight of the goose quill, I am under no misapprehension
about "winning people"; but I am inordinately proud these days of the quill, for
it has shown itself, historically, to be the hypodermic which inoculates men and
keeps the germ of freedom always in circulation, so that there are individuals
in every time in every land who are the carriers, the Typhoid Marys, capable of
infecting others by mere contact and example. These persons are feared by every
tyrant― who shows his fear by burning the books and destroying the individuals.
A writer goes about his task today with the extra satisfaction which comes from
knowing that he will be the first to have his head lopped off― even before the
political dandies. In my own case this is a double satisfaction, for if freedom
were denied me by force of earthly circumstance, I am the same as dead and would
infinitely prefer to go into fascism without my head than with it, having no use
for it any more and not wishing to be saddled with so heavy an encumberance.
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