红字-the scarlet letter(英文版)-第32部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


s　upwardslope；　already　overshadowed　the　soberer　reputations　of　hisfellow…clergymen；　eminent　as　several　of　them　were。　There　were　scholarsamong　them；　who　had　spent　more　years　in　acquiring　abstruse　lore；connected　with　the　divine　profession；　than　Mr。　Dimmesdale　had　lived；and　who　might　well；　therefore；　be　more　profoundly　versed　in　such　solidand　valuable　attainments　than　their　youthful　brother。　There　weremen；　too；　of　a　sturdier　texture　of　mind　than　his；　and　endowed　with　afar　greater　share　of　shrewd；　hard；　iron；　or　granite　understanding；which；　duly　mingled　with　a　fair　proportion　of　doctrinal　ingredient；constitutes　a　highly　respectable；　efficacious；　and　unamiable　varietyof　the　clerical　species。　There　were　others；　again；　true　saintlyfathers；　whose　faculties　had　been　elaborated　by　weary　toil　among　theirbooks；　and　by　patient　thought；　and　etherealised；　moreover；　byspiritual　munications　with　the　better　world；　into　which　theirpurity　of　life　had　almost　introduced　these　holy　personages；　with　theirgarments　of　mortality　still　clinging　to　them。　All　that　they　lacked　wasthe　gift　that　descended　upon　the　chosen　disciples　at　Pentecost；　intongues　of　flame；　symbolising；　it　would　seem；　not　the　power　ofspeech　in　foreign　and　unknown　languages；　but　that　of　addressing　thewhole　human　brotherhood　in　the　heart's　native　language。　These　fathers；otherwise　so　apostolic；　lacked　Heaven's　last　and　rarest　attestation　oftheir　office；　the　Tongue　of　Flame。　They　would　have　vainly　sought…had　they　ever　dreamed　of　seeking…　to　express　the　highest　truthsthrough　the　humblest　medium　of　familiar　words　and　images。　Their　voicescame　down；　afar　and　indistinctly；　from　the　upper　heights　where　theyhabitually　dwelt。　　Not　improbably；　it　was　to　this　latter　class　of　men　that　Mr。Dimmesdale；　by　many　of　his　traits　of　character；　naturally　belonged。　Tothe　high　mountain…peaks　of　faith　and　sanctity　he　would　have　climbed；had　not　the　tendency　been　thwarted　by　the　burden；　whatever　it　mightbe；　of　crime　or　anguish；　beneath　which　it　was　his　doom　to　totter。　Itkept　him　down；　on　a　level　with　the　lowest；　him；　the　man　of　etherealattributes；　whose　voice　the　angels　might　else　have　listened　to　andanswered！　But　this　very　burden　it　was；　that　gave　him　sympathies　sointimate　with　the　sinful　brotherhood　of　mankind；　so　that　his　heartvibrated　in　unison　with　theirs；　and　received　their　pain　into　itself；and　sent　its　own　throb　of　pain　through　a　thousand　other　hearts；　ingushes　of　sad；　persuasive　eloquence。　Oftenest　persuasive；　butsometimes　terrible！　The　people　knew　not　the　power　that　moved　themthus。　They　deemed　the　young　clergyman　a　miracle　of　holiness。　Theyfancied　him　the　mouthpiece　of　Heaven's　messages　of　wisdom；　and　rebuke；and　love。　In　their　eyes；　the　very　ground　on　which　he　trod　wassanctified。　The　virgins　of　his　church　grew　pale　around　him；　victims　ofa　passion　so　imbued　with　religious　sentiment　that　they　imagined　itto　be　all　religion；　and　brought　it　openly；　in　their　white　bosoms；　astheir　most　acceptable　sacrifice　before　the　altar。　The　aged　membersof　his　flock；　beholding　Mr。　Dimmesdale's　frame　so　feeble；　while　theywere　themselves　so　rugged　in　their　infirmity；　believed　that　he　wouldgo　heavenward　before　them；　and　enjoined　it　upon　their　children；　thattheir　old　bones　should　be　buried　close　to　their　young　pastor's　holygrave。　And；　all　this　time；　perchance；　when　poor　Mr。　Dimmesdale　wasthinking　of　his　grave；　he　questioned　with　himself　whether　the　grasswould　ever　grow　on　it；　because　an　accursed　thing　must　there　be　buried！　　It　is　inconceivable；　the　agony　with　which　this　public　venerationtortured　him！　It　was　his　genuine　impulse　to　adore　the　truth；　and　toreckon　all　things　shadow…like；　and　utterly　devoid　of　weight　orvalue；　that　had　not　its　divine　essence　as　the　life　within　theirlife。　Then；　what　was　he？…　a　substance？…　or　the　dimmest　of　all　shadows？He　longed　to　speak　out；　from　his　own　pulpit；　at　the　full　height　of　hisvoice；　and　tell　the　people　what　he　was。　〃I；　whom　you　behold　in　theseblack　garments　of　the　priesthood…　I；　who　ascend　the　sacred　desk；　andturn　my　pale　face　heavenward；　taking　upon　myself　to　hold　munion；　inyour　behalf；　with　the　Most　High　Omniscience…　I；　in　whose　daily　lifeyou　discern　the　sanctity　of　Enoch…　I；　whose　footsteps；　as　you　suppose；leave　a　gleam　along　my　earthly　track；　whereby　the　pilgrims　thatshall　e　after　me　may　be　guided　to　the　regions　of　the　blest…　I；who　have　laid　the　hand　of　baptism　upon　your　children…　I；　who　havebreathed　the　parting　prayer　over　your　dying　friends；　to　whom　theAmen　sounded　faintly　from　a　world　which　they　had　quitted…　I；　yourpastor；　whom　you　so　reverence　and　trust；　am　utterly　a　pollution　anda　lie！〃　　More　than　once；　Mr。　Dimmesdale　had　gone　into　the　pulpit；　with　apurpose　never　to　e　down　its　steps；　until　he　should　have　spokenwords　like　the　above。　More　than　once；　he　had　cleared　his　throat；　anddrawn　in　the　long；　deep；　and　tremulous　breath；　which；　when　sentforth　again；　would　e　burdened　with　the　black　secret　of　his　soul。More　than　once…　nay；　more　than　a　hundred　times…　he　had　actuallyspoken！　Spoken！　But　how？　He　had　told　his　hearers　that　he　wasaltogether　vile；　a　viler　panion　of　the　vilest；　the　worst　ofsinners；　an　abomination；　a　thing　of　unimaginable　iniquity；　and　thatthe　only　wonder　was；　that　they　did　not　see　his　wretched　bodyshrivelled　up　before　their　eyes；　by　the　burning　wrath　of　the　Almighty！Could　there　be　plainer　speech　than　this？　Would　not　the　people　start　upin　their　seats；　by　a　simultaneous　impulse；　and　tear　him　down　out　ofthe　pulpit　which　he　defiled？　Not　so；　indeed！　They　heard　it　all；　anddid　but　reverence　him　the　more。　They　little　guessed　what　deadlypurport　lurked　in　those　self…condemning　words。　〃The　godly　youth！〃　saidthey　among　themselves。　〃The　saint　on　earth！　Alas；　if　he　discern　suchsinfulness　in　his　own　white　soul；　what　horrid　spectacle　would　hebehold　in　thine　or　mine！〃　The　minister　well　knew…　subtle；　butremorseless　hypocrite　that　he　was！…　the　light　in　which　his　vagueconfession　would　be　viewed。　He　had　striven　to　put　a　cheat　upon　himselfby　making　the　avowal　of　a　guilty　conscience；　but　had　gained　only　oneother　sin；　and　a　self…acknowledged　shame；　without　the　momentary　reliefof　being　self…deceived。　He　had　spoken　the　very　truth；　andtransformed　it　into　the　veriest　falsehood。　And　yet；　by　theconstitution　of　his　nature；　he　loved　the　truth；　and　loathed　the　lie；as　few　men　ever　did。　Therefore；　above　all　things　else；　he　loathedhis　miserable　self！　　His　inward　trouble　drove　him　to　practices　more　in　accordance　withthe　old；　corrupted　faith　of　Rome；　than　with　the　better　light　of　theChurch　in　which　he　had　been　born　and　bred。　In　Mr。　Dimmesdale'ssecret　closet；　under　lock　and　key；　there　was　a　bloody　scourge。Oftentimes；　this　Protestant　and　Puritan　divine　had　plied　it　on　his　ownshoulders；　laughing　bitterly　at　himself　the　while；　and　smiting　so　muchthe　more　pitilessly　because　of　that　bitter　laugh。　It　was　his　custom；too；　as　it　has　been　that　of　many　other　pious　Puritans；　to　fast…　not；however；　like　them；　in　order　to　purify　the　body　and　render　it　thefitter　medium　of　celestial　illumination；　but　rigorously；　and　until　hisknees　trembled　beneath　him；　as　an　act　of　penance。　He　kept　vigils；likewise；　night　after　night；　sometimes　in　utter　darkness；　sometimeswith　a　glimmering　lamp；　and　sometimes；　viewing　his　own　face　in　alooking…glass；　by　the　most　powerful　light　which　he　could　throw　uponit。　He　thus　typified　the　constant　introspection　wherewith　he　tortured；but　could　not　purify；　himself。　In　these　lengthened　vigils；　his　brainoften　reeled；　and　visions　seemed　to　flit　before　him；　perhaps　seendoubtfully；　and　by　a　faint　light　of　their　own；　in　the　remote　dimnessof　the　chamber；　or　more　vividly；　and　close　beside　him；　within　thelooking…glass。　Now　it　was　a　herd　of　diabolic　shapes；　that　grinnedand　mocked　at　the　pale　minister；　and　beckoned　him　away　with　them；now　a　group　of　shining　angels；　who　flew　upward　heavily；　assorrow…laden；　but　grew　more　ethereal　as　they　rose。　Now　came　the　deadfriends　of　his　youth；　and　his　white…bearded　father；　with　asaint…like　frown；　and　his　mother；　turning　her　face　away　as　shepassed　by。　Ghost　of　a　mother…　thinnest　fantasy　of　a　mother…　methinksshe　might　yet　have　thrown　a　pitying　glance　towards　her　son！　And　now；through　the　chamber　which　these　spectral　thoughts　had　made　so　ghastly；glided　Hester　Prynne；　leading　along　little　Pearl；　in　her　sc