the days of my life-第35章

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！


　have　looked　on　it　as　a　higher　and　more　perfect　state；　and　therefore　I　will　assume　it；　it　has　been　often　and　eloquently　defended；　and　moreover　it　could　not　be　done　in　a　letter。　However；　the　fact　that　it　is　good　in　itself　is　not　at　all　a　conclusive　reason　why　I　should　embrace　it；　and　if　you　had　tried　to　dissuade　me　from　it　on　the　score　that　I　had　made　myself　unfit　and　unworthy　for　it　I　should　have　had　very　little　to　answer。　I　did　not　e　here　in　consequence　of　any　trouble　of　the　kind　you　allude　to；　nor　any　other；　nor　in　a　fit　of　disgust。　When　I　said　I　was　afraid　if　I　left　of　dropping　into　my　old　ways；　I　meant　the　idle；　aimless；　useless　life　I　led　when　you　knew　me　and　some　time　after：　my　only　object　was　pleasure　and　happiness；　and　I　was　unscrupulous　in　trying　to　get　them。　However；　about　six　months　previous　to　ing　here　I　had　made　a　great　change　and　lived　more　or　less　as　a　Catholic　should：　I　had　got　out　of　Chancery　and　paid　my　debts　and　begun　reading　for　the　Bar　in　a　Conveyancer’s　rooms；　and　it　was　under　these　circumstances　that　I　came　here；　and　it　is　what　I　shall　resume　if　I　leave。　I　prefer　London　and　Paris　to　Africa　how　fair　soever　be　its　skies；　and　the　Park　to　the　Sahara。　You　see　my　prospects　in　the　world　are　not　so　darkened　as　you　think；　nevertheless　they　do　not　wear　a　very　fascinating　smile　to　my　eyes。　For；　take　everything　at　its　best　and　assume　that　I　should　succeed　in　everything：　after　many　years’　drudging　I　should　be　a　successful　barrister；　and　perhaps　end　by　being　a　judge　if　I　was　very　lucky。　What　good　should　I　have　done　my　fellow…men　by　that？　Don’t　you　know　that　when　a　man　in　practice　dies；　a　hundred　rejoice；　thinking　that　they　will　get　some　of　his　work；　for　one　who　is　sorry？　Do　you　feel　grateful　to　a　lawyer　worn　out　with　briefs；　as　if　he　were　a　public　benefactor　in　consenting　to　work　in　the　world　instead　of　retiring　to　some　rural　or　suburban　retreat？　Judging　by　the　ordinary　run　of　man；　in　fifty　years　I　should　be　a　crabbed　bachelor；　or　still　worse　a　tormented　and　disappointed　married　man　—　not　much　better　than　your　“soured　monk。”　Besides；　I　believe　in　the　immortality　of　the　soul；　and　in　fact　it　was　the　great　“hereafter”　which　weighed　on　my　mind　and　prevented　my　being　content　with　prospects　which　sound　well　enough　to　most　people。　And　if　I　made　myself　my　own　and　only　centre　in　this　life；　why　should　I　at　the　hour　of　death　suddenly　change　and　love　my　Creator；　and　if　I　did　not　what　chance　should　I　have　of　enjoying　Him？　You　will　say　that　it　is　possible　to　love　God　in　the　world；　and　so　it　is：　the　thing　I　am　trying　to　decide　is　where　it　will　be　easiest　for　me　to　do　so。　It　may　be　more　heroic　to　remain　and　fight　your　battles　bravely；　but　permit　me；　where　the　consequences　of　defeat　are　so　hideous；　who　really　am　in　such　matters　nothing　but　a　coward；　who　have　been　so　often　overe；　at　least　to　think　of　flight。
I　repeat　I　have　decided　nothing；　the　Church　insists　upon　people　being　tried　for　two　years　at　least　before　taking　simple　vows　（i。e。　that　can　be　dissolved　by　the　superiors　if　they　find　you　unfit）；　and　five　years　before　taking　solemn　vows；　which　can　only　be　dissolved　by　the　Pope。　pare　this　caution　with　the　approved　facility　with　which　a　man　may　bind　himself　for　long　periods　as　a　soldier　or　for　life　in　marriage！　I　may　eventually　regret　it；　but　what　may　not　be　regretted；　and　how　many　things　have　most　men　done　which　they　do　regret！　Surely　you　should　not　omit　to　do　a　good　thing　because　you　may　regret　it。　I　might　say　a　good　deal　more；　but　have　no　time。　I　once　more　thank　you　for　writing　as　you　did；　with　your　old　warmth　and　not　without　your　old　eloquence。　Finally；　if　you　like　to　e　here；　if　you　have　the　time；　the　inclination；　and　the　opportunity；　I　am　sure　the　Abbot　would　be　very　glad　to　acmodate　you　for　any　time　under　three　months　（that　is　the　rule）　in　the　guest…house。　I　warn　you　however　that　the　fare　is　very　frugal；　and　twenty…four　hours　might　exhaust　your　patience。
Very　sincerely　yours；
J。　Sheil。
It　seems　to　me　that；　in　the　above　letter；　dear　Sheil　goes　far　towards　justifying　the　attack　that　I　had　evidently　made　upon　his　position。　“Permit　me　。　。　。　at　least　to　think　of　flight。”　He　admits　that　he　had　run　away　from　the　world　and　its　temptations　because　of　“the　hideous　consequences　of　defeat；”　i。e。　the　loss　of　his　soul。　His　idea　was　that　by　shutting　himself　up　in　an　iron　box　he　would　avoid　sin　and　its　“hideous　consequences。”　But　I　wonder　now；　as　I　wondered　then；　whether；　supposing　the　capitulation　to　the　natural　impulses　of　the　body　to　be　cardinal　sin；　such　sin　is　really　avoided　by　the　method　of　the　iron　box？　True；　they　cannot　be　gratified；　for；　if　you　wish　to　drink；　there　is　no　whisky；　if　you　wish　to　make　love；　there　is　no　woman；　and　so　forth。　Yet　in　that　case　does　not　the　wish　assume　the　proportions　of　the　acplished　deed？　A　noted　passage　in　the　New　Testament　seems　to　suggest　that　this　may　be　so；　also　incidents　in　the　lives　of　the　saints　occur　to　me；　though　we　are　told　only　of　those　in　which　they　triumphed。　Of　course　if；　by　the　aid　of　terrible　abstinence　or　of　prayer；　every　human　desire　and　frailty　can　be　banished　and　the　mind　can　bee；　so　to　speak；　sterilised　of　all　harmful　thoughts；　then　a　condition　of　absolute　though　negative　virtue　will　be　attained。　Whether　the　virtue　thus　gained　—　if　it　be　possible　to　gain　it　while　even　sleep　and　its　dreams　remain　—　is　of　a　truer　and　higher　quality　than　that　proportion　of　goodness　which　can　be　won；　that　more　soiled　garment　which　must　be　worn　by　him　who　remains　in　the　world　and　bears　the　heat　and　burden　of　its　day；　often　falling；　but　struggling　to　his　feet　again；　sinning；　and　lamenting　his　sins；　striving　to　do　better；　yet　frequently　in　vain；　living　the　full　life；　bringing　others　into　that　life　and；　to　the　best　of　his　ability；　bearing　their　burdens；　doing　here　a　good　and　there；　perhaps；　a　harm；　and　at　length；　filled　with　experience；　departing　penitent　and　mercy…seeking　to　whatever　future　career　may　await　him　—　is　not　for　me　to　say。　Probably　the　question　must　be　answered　in　accordance　with　the　temperament　and　gifts　of　the　questioner。　For　me　it　is　too　hard。　However；　it　is　more　or　less　dealt　with　on　one　side　of　some　of　Sheil’s　remaining　epistles。
The　next　of　these　is　dated　nearly　a　year　later　than　that　which　I　have　quoted：
Mount　St。　Bernard’s　Abbey；　August　3；　1880。
I　thank　you　for　thinking　of　writing　to　tell　me　of　your　marrying；　you　were　right　in　thinking　it　would　interest　me。　If　joy　and　prosperity　came　by　my　wishing　you　would　certainly　have　your　fill　in　all　your　life　to　e。　I　am　glad　you　are　marrying；　as　I　think　it　much　better　for　a　man　than　knocking　about　by　himself。　I　suppose　you　had　some　photos　struck　on　this　auspicious　occasion；　if　so；　may　I　suggest　that　the　one　I　have　of　you　was　youthful　when　you　gave　it；　I　think　six　years　ago；　and　that　I　should　very　much　like　to　have　another；　and；　if　it　is　not　asking　too　much；　one　of　Miss　Margitson　（I　hope　that　is　rightly　spelt；　but　your　writing　is　more　shocking　than　ever）？　I　am　not　surprised　at　your　anxiety　to　get　back　to　South　Africa　and　your　weariness　of　England；　I　suppose　our　brightest　sky　is　only　a　fog　to　you。
As　for　myself；　I　took　the　simple　vows　a　short　time　since；　of　course　I　cannot　consider　myself　absolutely　fixed　till　the　solemn　vows；　but　I　hope　I　am。　I　don’t　see　how　anyone　can　avoid　having　an　intellectual　if　not　a　practical　contempt　for　this　life　if　he　believes　in　eternity。　I　was　reading　the　other　day　that　if　a　man　had　been　born　at　the　beginning　of　the　world　and　shed　one　tear　every　thousand　years；　he　would　now　have　shed　six　tears；　yet　the　time　will　most　infallibly　e　when　any　and　every　one　will　be　able　to　say　that　at　that　rate　he　would　have　filled　the　ocean　with　tears。　This　seems　to　me　striking　and　true。　The　thing　is　that　the　happiness　or　misery　of　all　this　future　（there　is　only　one　alternative）　depends　on　what　you　love　in　this　life；　you　must　love　the　Invisible。　The　beauty　of　the　life　we　lead　here　is　that　it　makes　this　paratively　easy。
I　should　have　liked　to　give　you　a　small　token　of　my　feeling　for　you；　but；　as　I　suppose　you　know；　a　man　who　takes　the　vows　ceases　to　be　the　owner　of　any　moneys　or　of　anything　else；　（of　course　if　I　was　not　admitted　to　solemn　vows　I　should　recover　what　I　have　given）。　I　hope　you　will　accept　my　good　will。　Have　you