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The Jacket (The Star-Rover)-Part17_JACK LONDON(1876-1916)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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when the Son did not exist. In the nature of sonship there must

have been a time when the Son commenced to exist. A father must be



older than his son. To hold otherwise were a blasphemy and a

belittlement of God.



And I remembered back to my young days when I had sat at the feet of

Arius, who had been a presbyter of the city of Alexandria, and who



had been robbed of the bishopric by the blasphemous and heretical

Alexander. Alexander the Sabellianite, that is what he was, and his



feet had fast hold of hell.

Yes, I had been to the Council of Nicea, and seen it avoid the



issue. And I remembered when the Emperor Constantine had banished

Arius for his uprightness. And I remembered when Constantine



repented for reasons of state and policy and commanded Alexander--

the other Alexander, thrice cursed, Bishop of Constantinople--to



receive Arius into communion on the morrow. And that very night did

not Arius die in the street? They said it was a violentsickness



visited upon him in answer to Alexander's prayer to God. But I

said, and so said all we Arians, that the violentsickness was due



to a poison, and that the poison was due to Alexander himself,

Bishop of Constantinople and devil's poisoner.



And here I ground my body back and forth on the sharp stones, and

muttered aloud, drunk with conviction:



"Let the Jews and Pagans mock. Let them triumph, for their time is

short. And for them there will be no time after time."



I talked to myself aloud a great deal on that rocky shelf

overlooking the river. I was feverish, and on occasion I drank



sparingly of water from a stinking goatskin. This goatskin I kept

hanging in the sun that the stench of the skin might increase and



that there might be no refreshment of coolness in the water. Food

there was, lying in the dirt on my cave-floor--a few roots and a



chunk of mouldy barley-cake; and hungry I was, although I did not

eat.



All I did that blessed, livelong day was to sweat and swelter in the

sun, mortify my lean flesh upon the rock, gaze out of the



desolation, resurrect old memories, dream dreams, and mutter my

convictions aloud.



And when the sun set, in the swift twilight I took a last look at

the world so soon to pass. About the feet of the colossi I could



make out the creeping forms of beasts that laired in the once proud

works of men. And to the snarls of the beasts I crawled into my



hole, and, muttering and dozing, visioning fevered fancies and

praying that the last day come quickly, I ebbed down into the



darkness of sleep.

Consciousness came back to me in solitary, with the quartet of



torturers about me.

"Blasphemous and heretical Warden of San Quentin whose feet have



fast hold of hell," I gibed, after I had drunk deep of the water

they held to my lips. "Let the jailers and the trusties triumph.



Their time is short, and for them there is no time after time."

"He's out of his head," Warden Atherton affirmed.



"He's putting it over on you," was Doctor Jackson's surer judgment.

"But he refuses food," Captain Jamie protested.



"Huh, he could fast forty days and not hurt himself," the doctor

answered.



"And I have," I said, "and forty nights as well. Do me the favour

to tighten the jacket and then get out of here."



The head trusty tried to insert his forefinger inside the lacing.

"You couldn't get a quarter of an inch of slack with block and



tackle," he assured them.

"Have you any complaint to make, Standing?" the Warden asked.



"Yes," was my reply. "On two counts."

"What are they?"



"First," I said, "the jacket is abominably loose. Hutchins is an

ass. He could get a foot of slack if he wanted."



"What is the other count?" Warden Atherton asked.

"That you are conceived of the devil, Warden."



Captain Jamie and Doctor Jackson tittered, and the Warden, with a

snort, led the way out of my cell.



Left alone, I strove to go into the dark and gain back to the wagon

circle at Nephi. I was interested to know the outcome of that



doomed drifting of our forty great wagons across a desolate and

hostile land, and I was not at all interested in what came of the






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