the story of my heart-第16部分

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ignorancean　interested　ignorance；　kept　up　by　strenuous　exertions；　from
which　infernal　darkness　it　will；　in　course　of　time；　emerge；　marvelling　at
the　past　as　a　man　wonders　at　and　glories　in　the　light　who　has　escaped　from
blindness。


CHAPTER　XI

This　our　earth　produces　not　only　a　sufficiency　a　superabundance；　but　in　one
year　pours　a　cornucopia　of　good　things　forth；　enough　to　fill　us　for　many
years　in　succession。　The　only　reason　we　do　not　enjoy　it　is　the　want　of
rational　organisation。　I　know；　of　course；　and　all　who　think　know；　that　some
labour　or　supervision　will　always　necessary；　since　the　plough　must　travel
the　furrow　and　the　seed　must　must　be　sown；　but　I　maintain　that　a　tenth；
nay；　a　hundredth；　part　of　the　labour　and　slavery　now　gone　through　will　be
sufficient；　and　that　in　the　course　of　time；　as　organisation　perfects　itself
and　discoveries　advance；　even　that　part　will　diminish。　For　the　rise　and　fall
of　the　tides　alone　furnish　forth　sufficient　power　to　do　automatically　all
the　labour　that　is　done　on　the　earth。　Is　ideal　man；　then；　to　be　idle？　I
answer　that；　if　so；　I　see　no　wrong；　but　a　great　good。　I　deny　altogether　that
idleness　is　an　evil；　or　that　it　produces　evil；　and　I　am　well　aware　why　the
interested　are　so　bitter　against　idlenessnamely；　because　it　gives　time　for
thought；　and　if　men　had　time　to　think　their　reign　would　come　to　an　end。
Idlenessthat　is；　the　absence　of　the　necessity　to　work　for　subsistenceis
a　great　good。

I　hope　succeeding　generations　will　be　able　to　be　ideal。　I　hope　that
nine…tenths　of　their　time　will　be　leisure　time；　that　they　may　enjoy　their
days；　and　the　earth；　and　the　beauty　of　this　beautiful　world；　that　they　may
rest　by　the　sea　and　dream；　that　they　may　dance　and　sing；　and　eat　and　drink。
I　will　work　towards　that　end　with　all　my　heart。　If　employment　they　must
haveand　the　restlessness　of　the　mind　will　insure　that　some　will　be
followedthen　they　will　find　scope　enough　in　the　perfection　of　their
physical　frames；　in　the　expansion　of　the　mind；　and　in　the
enlargement　of　the　soul。　They　shall　not　work　for　bread；　but　for
their　souls。　I　am　willing　to　divide　and　share　all　I　shall　ever　have　for　this
purpose；　though　I　think　the　end　will　rather　be　gained　by　organisation　than
by　sharing　alone。

In　these　material　things；　too；　I　think　that　we　require　another　circle　of
ideas；　and　I　believe　that　such　ideas　are　possible；　and；　in　a　manner　of
speaking；　exist。　Let　me　exhort　every　one　to　do　their　utmost　to　think　outside
and　beyond　our　present　circle　of　ideas。　　For　every　idea　gained　is　a　hundred
years　of　slavery　remitted。　Even　with　the　idea　of　organisation　which　promises
most　I　am　not　satisfied；　but　endeavour　to　get　beyond　and　outside　it；　so　that
the　time　now　necessary　may　be　shortened。　　Besides　which；　I　see　that　many　of
our　difficulties　arise　from　obscure　and　remote　causesobscure　like　the
shape　of　bones；　for　whose　strange　curves　there　is　no　familiar　term。　We　must
endeavour　to　understand　the　crookedness　and　unfamiliar　curves　of　the
conditions　of　life。　　Beyond　that　still　there　are　other　ideas。　　Never；　never
rest　contented　with　any　circle　of　ideas；　but　always　be　certain　that　a　wider
one　is　still　possible。　For　my
thought　is　like　a　hyperbola　that　continually　widens　ascending。

For　grief　there　is　no　known　consolation。　It　is　useless　to　fill　our　hearts
with　bubbles。　A　loved　one　gone　is　gone；　and　as　to　the　futureeven　if　there
is　a　futureit　is　unknown。　To　assure　ourselves　otherwise　is　to　soothe　the
mind　with　illusions；　the　bitterness　of　it　is　inconsolable。　The　sentiments　of
trust　chipped　out　on　tombstones　are　touching　instances　of　the　innate
goodness　of　the　human　heart；　which　naturally　longs　for　good；　and　sighs
itself　to　sleep　in　the　hope　that；　if　parted；　the　parting　is　for　the　benefit
of　those　that　are　gone。　But　these　inscriptions　are　also　awful　instances　of
the　deep　intellectual　darkness　which　presses　still　on　the　minds　of　men。　The
least　thought　erases　them。　There　is　no　consolation。　There　is　no　relief。
There　is　no　hope　certain；　the　whole　system　is　a　mere　illusion。　I；　who　hope
so　much；　and　am　so　rapt　up　in　the　soul；　know　full　well　that　there　is　no
certainty。

The　tomb　cries　aloud　to　usits　dead　silence　presses　on　the　drum
of　the　ear　like　thunder；　saying；　Look　at　this；　and　erase　your
illusions；　now　know　the　extreme　value　of　human　life；　reflect　on
this　and　strew　human　life　with　flowers；　save　every　hour　for　the
sunshine；　let　your　labour　be　so　ordered　that　in　future　times　the　loved　ones
may　dwell　longer　with　those　who　love　them；　open　your
minds；　exalt　your　souls；　widen　the　sympathies　of　your　hearts；
face　the　things　that　are　now　as　you　will　face　the　reality　of　death；　make　joy
real　now　to　those　you　love；　and　help　forward　the　joy　of　those　yet　to　be
born。　Let　these　facts　force　the　mind　and　the　soul　to　the　increase　of
thought；　and　the　consequent　remission　of　misery；　so　that　those　whose　time　it
is　to　die　may　have　enjoyed　all　that　is　possible　in　life。　Lift　up　your　mind
and　see　now　in　this　bitterness　of　parting；　in　this　absence　of　certainty；　the
fact　that　there　is　no　directing　intelligence；　remember　that　this　death　is
not　of　old　age；　which　no　one　living　in　the　world　has　ever　seen；　remember
that　old　age　is　possible；　and　perhaps　even　more　than　old　age；　and　beyond
these　earthly　things…what？　　　None　know。　But　let　us；　turning　away　from　the
illusion　of　a　directing　intelligence；　look　earnestly　for　something　better
than　a　god；　seek　for　something　higher　than
prayer；　and　lift　our　souls　to　be　with　the　more　than　immortal
now。

A　river　runs　itself　clear　during　the　night；　and　in　sleep
thought　becomes　pellucid。　All　the　hurrying　to　and　fro；　the
unrest　and　stress；　the　agitation　and　confusion　subside。　Like　a
sweet　pure　spring；　thought　pours　forth　to　meet　the　light；　and
is　illumined　to　its　depths。　The　dawn　at　my　window　ever　causes
a　desire　for　larger　thought；　the　recognition　of　the　light　at
the　moment　of　waking　kindles　afresh　the　wish　for　a　broad　day　of
the　mind。　There　is　a　certainty　that　there　are　yet　ideas　further；　and
greaterthat　there　is　still　a　limitless　beyond。　I　know　at　that　moment　that
there　is　no　limit　to　the　things　that　may　be　yet　in　material　and　tangible
shape　besides　the　immaterial　perceptions　of　the　soul。　The　dim　white　light　of
the　dawn　speaks　it。　This　prophet　which　has　come　with　its　wonders　to　the
bedside　of　every　human　being　for　so　many　thousands　of　years　faces　me　once
again　with　the　upheld　finger　of　light。　Where　is　the　limit　to　that　physical
sign？

》From　space　to　the　sky；　from　the　sky　to　the　hills；　and　the　sea；
to　every　blade　of　grass；　to　every　leaf；　to　the　smallest　insect；
to　the　million　waves　of　ocean。　Yet　this　earth　itself　appears
but　a　mote　in　that　sunbeam　by　which　we　are　conscious　of　one
narrow　streak　in　the　abyss。　A　beam　crosses　my　silent　chamber
from　the　window；　and　atoms　are　visible　in　it；　a　beam　slants
between　the　fir…trees；　and　particles　rise　and　fall　within；　and　cross　it
while　the　air　each　side　seems　void。　Through　the　heavens　a　beam　slants；　and
we　are　aware　of　the　star…stratum　in　which　our　earth　moves。　But　what　may　be
without　that　stratum？　Certainly　it　is　not　a　void。　This　light　tells　us　much；
but　I　think　in　the　course　of　time　yet　more　delicate　and　subtle　mediums　than
light　may　be　found；　and　through　these　we　shall　see　into　the　shadows　of　the
sky。　When　will　it　be　possible　to　be　certain　that　the　capacity　of　a　single
atom　has　been　exhausted？　At　any　moment　some　fortunate　incident　may　reveal　a
fresh　power。　One　by　one　the　powers　of　light　have　been　unfolded。

After　thousands　of　years　the　telescope　opened　the　stars；　the
prism　analysed　the　substance　of　the　sun；　the　microscope　showed
the　minute　structure　of　the　rocks　and　the　tissues　of　living
bodies。　The　winged　men　on　the　Assyrian　bas…reliefs；　the　gods　of
the　Nile；　the　chariot…borne　immortals　of　Olympus；　not　the
greatest　of　imagined　beings　ever　possessed　in　fancied　attributes
one…tenth　the　power　of　light。　As　the　swallows　twitter；　the　dim
white　finger　appears　at　my　window　full　of　wonders；　such　as　all
the　wise　men　in　twelve　thousand　precedent　years　never　even　hoped
to　conceive。　But　this　is　not　alllight　is　not　all；　light　conceals　more　than
it　reveals；　light　is　the　darkest　shadow　of　the　sky；　besides　light　there　are
many　other　mediums　yet　to　be　explored。　For　thousands　of　years　the　sunbeams
poured　on　the　earth；　full　as　now　of　messages；　and　light　is　not　a　hidden
thing　to　be　searched　out　with　difficulty。　Full　in　the　faces　of　men　the　rays
came　with　their　intelligence　from　the　sun　when　the　papyri　were　painted
beside　the　ancient　Nile；　but　they　were　not　understood。

This　hour；　rays　or　undulations　of　more　subtle　mediums　are
doubtless　pouring　on　us　over　the　wide　earth；　unrecognised；　and
full　of　messages　and　intelligence　from　the　unseen。　Of　these　we
are　this　day　as　ignorant　as　those　who　painted　the　papyri　were　of
light。　There　is　an　infinity　of　knowledge　yet　to　be　known；　and
beyond　that　an　infinity　of　thought。　No　mental　instrument　even　has　yet　been
invented　by　which　researches　can　be　carried　direct　to　the　object。　Whatever
has　been　found　has　been　discovered　by　fortunate　accident；　in　looking　for　one
thing　another　has　been　chanced　on。　A　reasoning　process　has　yet　to　be
invented　by　which　to　go　straight　to　the　desired　end。　For　now　the　slightest
particle　is　enough　to　throw　the　search　aside；　and　the　most　minute
circumstance　sufficient　to　conceal　obvious　and　brilliantly　shining　truths。
One　summer　evening　sitting　by　my　window　I　watched　for　the　first　star　to
appear；　knowing　the　position　of　the　brightest　in　the　southern　sky。　The　dusk
came　on；　grew　deeper；　but　the　star　did　not　shine。　　By…and…by；　other　stars
less　bright　appeared；　so　that　it　could　not　be　the　sunset　which　obscured　the
expected　one。　　Finally；　I　considered　that　I　must　have　mistaken　its　position；
when　suddenly　a　puff　of　air　blew　through　the　branch　of　a　pear…tree　which
overhung　the　window；　a　leaf　moved；　and　there　was　the　star　behind　the　leaf。

At　present　the　endeavour　to　make　discoveries　is　like　gazing　at
the　sky　up　through　the　boughs　of　an　oak。　Here　a　beautiful　star
shines　clearly；　here　a　constellation　is　hidden　by　a　branch；　a
universe　by　a　leaf。　Some　mental　instrument　or　organon　is
required　to　enable　us　to　distinguish　between　th