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Life of John Sterling-Part16_Thomas Carlyle(1795-1881)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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world, with promise of new blessedness and healing under its Wings;

and this too has soon found itself an illusion: "Not by Priesthood



either lies the way, then. Once more, where does the way lie!"--To

follow illusions till they burst and vanish is the lot of all new



souls who, luckily or lucklessly, are left to their own choice in

starting on this Earth. The roads are many; the authentic



finger-posts are few,--never fewer than in this era, when in so many

senses the waters are out. Sterling of all men had the quickest sense



for nobleness, heroism and the human _summum bonum_; the liveliest

headlong spirit of adventure and audacity; few gifted living men less



stubbornness of perseverance. Illusions, in his chase of the _summum

bonum_, were not likely to be wanting; aberrations, and wasteful



changes of course, were likely to be many! It is in the history of

such vehement, trenchant, far-shining and yet intrinsically light and



volatile souls, missioned into this epoch to seek their way there,

that we best see what a confused epoch it is.



This clerical aberration,--for such it undoubtedly was in

Sterling,--we have ascribed to Coleridge; and do clearly think that



had there been no Coleridge, neither had this been,--nor had English

Puseyism or some other strange enough universal portents been.



Nevertheless, let us say farther that it lay partly in the general

bearing of the world for such a man. This battle, universal in our



sad epoch of "all old things passing away" against "all things

becoming new," has its summary and animating heart in that of



Radicalism against Church; there, as in its flaming core, and point of

focal splendor, does the heroic worth that lies in each side of the



quarrel most clearly disclose itself; and Sterling was the man, above

many, to recognize such worth on both sides. Natural enough, in such



a one, that the light of Radicalism having gone out in darkness for

him, the opposite splendor should next rise as the chief, and invite



his loyalty till it also failed. In one form or the other, such an

aberration was not unlikely for him. But an aberration, especially in



this form, we may certainly call it. No man of Sterling's veracity,

had he clearly consulted his own heart, or had his own heart been



capable of clearly responding, and not been dazzled and bewildered by

transient fantasies and theosophic moonshine, could have undertaken



this function. His heart would have answered: "No, thou canst not.

What is incredible to thee, thou shalt not, at thy soul's peril,



attempt to believe!--Elsewhither for a refuge, or die here. Go to

Perdition if thou must,--but not with a lie in thy mouth; by the



Eternal Maker, no!"

Alas, once more! How are poor mortals whirled hither and thither in



the tumultuous chaos of our era; and, under the thick smoke-canopy

which has eclipsed all stars, how do they fly now after this poor



meteor, now after that!--Sterling abandoned his clerical office in

February, 1835; having held it, and ardently followed it, so long as



we say,--eight calendar months in all.

It was on this his February expedition to London that I first saw



Sterling,--at the India House incidentally, one afternoon, where I

found him in company with John Mill, whom I happened like himself to



be visiting for a few minutes. The sight of one whose fine qualities

I had often heard of lately, was interesting enough; and, on the



whole, proved not disappointing, though it was the translation of




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