After a silence that had been too long, "It may be quite as well we don't," he said; "As well, I mean, that we don't always say it. You know best what I mean, and I suppose You might have said it better. What was that? Incorrigible? Am I incorrigible? Well, it's a word; and a word has its use, Or, like a man, it will soon have a grave. It's a good word enough. Incorrigible, May be, for all I know, the word for Norcross. See for yourself that house of his again That he called home: An old house, painted white, Square as a box, and chillier than a tomb To look at or to live in. There were trees -- Too many of them, if such a thing may be -- Before it and around it. Down in front There was a road, a railroad, and a river; Then there were hills behind it, and more trees. The thing would fairly stare at you through trees, Like a pale inmate out of a barred window With a green shade half down; and I dare say People who passedhave said: `There's where he lives. We know him, but we do not seem to know That we remember any good of him, Or any evil that is interesting. There you have all we know and all we care.' They might have said it in all sorts of ways; And then, if they perceived a cat, they might Or might not have remembered what they said. The cat might have a personality -- And maybe the same one the Lord left out Of Tasker Norcross, who, for lack of it, Saw the same sun go down year after year; All which at last was my discovery. And only mine, so far as evidence Enlightens one more darkness. You have known All round you, all your days, men who are nothing -- Nothing, I mean, so far as time tells yet Of any other need it has of them Than to make sextons hardy -- but no less Are to themselves incalculably something, And therefore to be cherished. God, you see, Being sorry for them in their fashioning, Indemnified them with a quaint esteem Of self, and with illusions long as life. You know them well, and you have smiled at them; And they, in their serenity, may have had Their time to smile at you. Blessed are they That see themselves for what they never were Or were to be, and are, for their defect, At ease with mirrors and the dim remarks That pass their tranquil ears.""Come, come," said I; "There may be names in your compendium That we are not yet all on fire for shouting. Skin most of us of our mediocrity, We should have nothing then that we could scratch. The picture smarts. Cover it, if you please, And do so rather gently. Now for Norcross."Ferguson closed his eyes in resignation, While a dead sigh came out of him. "Good God!" He said, and said it only half aloud, As if he knew no longer now, nor cared, If one were there to listen: "Have I said nothing -- Nothing at all -- of Norcross? Do you mean To patronize him till his name becomes A toy made out of letters? If a name Is all you need, arrange an honest column Of all the people you have ever known That you have never liked. You'll have enough; And you'll have mine, moreover. No, not yet. If I assume too many privileges, I pay, and I alone, for their assumption; By which, if I assume a darker knowledge Of Norcross than another, let the weight Of my injustice aggravate the load That is not on your shoulders. When I came To know this fellow Norcross in his house, Ifound him as I found him in the street -- No more, no less; indifferent, but no better. `Worse' were not quite the word: he was not bad; He was not . . . well, he was not anything. Has your invention ever entertained The picture of a dusty worm so dry That even the early bird would shake his head And fly on farther for another breakfast?""But why forget the fortune of the worm," I said, "if in the dryness you deplore Salvation centred and endured? Your Norcross May have been one for many to have envied.""Salvation? Fortune? Would the worm say that? He might; and therefore I dismiss the worm With all dry things but one. Figures away, Do you begin to see this man a little? Do you begin to see him in the air, With all the vacant horrors of his outline For you to fill with more than it will hold? If so, you needn't crown yourself at once With epic laurel if you seem to fill it. Horrors, I say, for in the fires and forks Of a new hell -- if one were not enough -- I doubt if a new horror would have held him With a malignant ingenuity More to be feared than his before he died. You smile, as if in doubt. Well, smile again. Now come into his house, along with me: The four square sombre things that you see first Around you are four walls that go as high As to the ceiling. Norcross knew them well, And he knew others like them. Fasten to that With all the claws of your intelligence; And hold the man before you in his house As if he were a white rat in a box, And one that knew himself to be no other. I tell you twice that he knew all about it, That you may not forget the worst of all Our tragedies begin with what we know. Could Norcross only not have known, I wonder How many would have blessed and envied him! Could he have had the usual eye for spots On others, and for none upon himself, I smile to ponder on the carriages That might as well as not have clogged the town In honor of his end. For there was gold, You see, though all he needed was a little, And what he gave said nothing of who gave it. He would have given it all if in return There might have been a more sufficient face To greet him when he shaved. Though you insist It is the dower, and always, of our degree Not to be cursed with such invidious insight, Remember that you stand, you and your fancy, Now in his house; and since we are together, See for yourself and tell me what you see. Tell me the best you see. Makea slight noise Of recognition when you find a book That you would not as lief read upside down As otherwise, for example. If there you fail, Observe the walls and lead me to the place, Where you are led. If there you meet a picture That holds you near it for a longer time Than you are sorry, you may call it yours, And hang it in the dark of your remembrance, Where Norcross never sees. How can he see That has no eyes to see? And as for music, He paid with empty wonder for the pangs Of his infrequent forced endurance of it; And having had no pleasure, paid no more For needless immolation, or for the sight Of those who heard what he was never to hear. To see them listening was itself enough To make him suffer; and to watch worn eyes, On other days, of strangers who forgot Their sorrows and their failures and themselves Before a few mysterious odds and ends Of marble carted from the Parthenon -- And all for seeing what he was never to see, Because it was alive and he was dead -- Here was a wonder that was more profound Than any that was in fiddles and brass horns.
同类推荐
热门推荐
唐立淇2013星座运程:巨蟹座
回顾2012年,巨蟹的身价默默攀升,虽然很低调,刻意不引人注意,但突出是藏不住的,你仍然在群体中发光,拥有大众人气,得以重返主流,重获青睐。现在沉闷、躲藏的气氛即将结束了,巨蟹座2013年的新课题:要如何应对迎面而来的牵制与威胁,又能亮丽现身?土星要你修练的是“子女、恋情、表现”等领域,情绪的控管也是。前妻来袭:前夫快到碗里来
(推荐我的文,萌妻来袭:欢喜竹马冤家)她,爱他多年,他,躲她多年,她爱他入骨,他却伤她如骨,好吧,她心死,可是她的仇呢?,多年后,某结婚现场‘妈咪,我的后妈会想白雪公主的后妈一样给我毒苹果吗’。‘宝贝啊,你后妈可没有毒苹果她只有白莲花”。‘妈咪,我的后妈会像灰姑娘的后妈一样给我两个后姐吗’,“宝贝啊,你后妈可没有给你后姐她只有你这么个继女”,“那我后妈岂不是很可怜,没有毒苹果给我也没有后姐给我,那不就是没人欺负我了”某萌娃说完屁颠屁颠的跑到被她称为后妈的女人面前递给她一个苹果“后妈,给你苹果,我觉得你应该要像白雪公主的后妈一样才会受欢迎的哦”2017国际获奖科幻小说精选
21世纪以来,美国科幻领域发生了悄无声息的巨大变化:更看重语言和叙事,更多对准文化中的政治议题,更欣赏作者的独特体验。这一切,最终反映在每年形形色色的评奖名单中。未来事务管理局致力于科幻文化传播,独家引进2017年多个重要科幻奖项的入围和获奖作品,希望能够让中国读者领略当今世界科幻发展的样貌。本选集是未来局国际获奖科幻小说精选的第一集。