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Seraphita-Part12_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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consciousness of others I am able to divine both the future and the

past. How? do you still ask how? Imagine that the marblestatue is the



body of a man, a piece of statuary in which we see the emotion,

sentiment, passion, vice or crime, virtue or repentance which the



creating hand has put into it, and you will then comprehend how it is

that I read the soul of this foreigner--though what I have said does



not explain the gift of Specialism; for to conceive the nature of that

gift we must possess it."



Though Wilfrid belonged to the two first divisions of humanity, the

men of force and the men of thought, yet his excesses, his tumultuous



life, and his misdeeds had often turned him towards Faith; for doubt

has two sides; a side to the light and a side to the darkness. Wilfrid



had too closely clasped the world under its forms of Matter and of

Mind not to have acquired that thirst for the unknown, that longing to



GO BEYOND which lay their grasp upon the men who know, and wish, and

will. But neither his knowledge, nor his actions, nor his will, had



found direction. He had fled from social life from necessity; as a

great criminal seeks the cloister. Remorse, that virtue of weak



beings, did not touch him. Remorse is impotence, impotence which sins

again. Repentance alone is powerful; it ends all. But in traversing



the world, which he made his cloister, Wilfrid had found no balm for

his wounds; he saw nothing in nature to which he could attach himself.



In him, despair had dried the sources of desire. He was one of those

beings who, having gone through all passions and come out victorious,



have nothing more to raise in their hot-beds, and who, lacking

opportunity to put themselves at the head of their fellow-men to



trample under iron heel entire populations, buy, at the price of a

horrible martyrdom, the faculty of ruining themselves in some belief,



--rocks sublime, which await the touch of a wand that comes not to

bring the waters gushing from their far-off spring.



Led by a scheme of his restless, inquiring life to the shores of

Norway, the sudden arrival of winter had detained the wanderer at



Jarvis. The day on which, for the first time, he saw Seraphita, the

whole past of his life faded from his mind. The young girl excited



emotions which he had thought could never be revived. The ashes gave

forth a lingering flame at the first murmurings of that voice. Who has



ever felt himself return to youth and purity after growing cold and

numb with age and soiled with impurity? Suddenly, Wilfrid loved as he



had never loved; he loved secretly, with faith, with fear, with inward

madness. His life was stirred to the very source of his being at the



mere thought of seeing Seraphita. As he listened to her he was

transported into unknown worlds; he was mute before her, she



magnetized him. There, beneath the snows, among the glaciers, bloomed

the celestial flower to which his hopes, so long betrayed, aspired;



the sight of which awakened ideas of freshness, purity, and faith

which grouped about his soul and lifted it to higher regions,--as



Angels bear to heaven the Elect in those symbolic pictures inspired by

the guardian spirit of a great master. Celestial perfumes softened the



granite hardness of the rocky scene; light endowed with speech shed

its divine melodies on the path of him who looked to heaven. After



emptying the cup of terrestrial love which his teeth had bitten as he

drank it, he saw before him the chalice of salvation where the limpid



waters sparkled, making thirsty for ineffable delights whoever dare

apply his lips burning with a faith so strong that the crystal shall



not be shattered.

But Wilfrid now encountered the wall of brass for which he had been



seeking up and down the earth. He went impetuously to Seraphita,

meaning to express the whole force and bearing of a passion under



which he bounded like the fabled horse beneath the iron horseman, firm

in his saddle, whom nothing moves while the efforts of the fiery



animal only made the rider heavier and more solid. He sought her to

relate his life,--to prove the grandeur of his soul by the grandeur of



his faults, to show the ruins of his desert. But no sooner had he

crossed her threshold, and found himself within the zone of those eyes



of scintillating azure, that met no limits forward and left none




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