LESSON 65

SORROW FOR THE DEAD

为死者悲

The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal; every other affliction, to forget; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open. This affliction we cherish, and brood over in solitude. Where is the mother who would willingly forget the infant that has perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang? Where is the child that would willingly forget a tender parent, though to remember be but to lament? Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns?

No, the love which survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights: and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recollection; when the sudden anguish and the convulsive agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved, is softened away into pensive meditation on all that it was in the days of its loveliness, who would root out such a sorrow from the heart? Though it may, sometimes, throw a passing cloud over the bright hour of gayety, or spread a deeper sadness over the hour of gloom; yet, who would exchange it even for the song of pleasure, or the burst of revelry? No, there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song. There is a remembrance of the dead, to which we turn even from the charms of the living.

Oh, the grave! the grave! It buries every error, covers every defect, extinguishes every resentment! From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections. Who can look down upon the grave even of an enemy, and not feel a compunctious throb, that he should have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies moldering before him? But the grave of those we loved—what a place for meditation! There it is that we call up, in long review, the whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the thousand endearments lavished upon us, almost unheeded in the daily intercourse of intimacy; there it is that we dwell upon the tenderness, the solemn, awful tenderness of the parting scene; the bed of death, with all its stifled griefs, its noiseless attendance, its mute, watchful assiduities! the last testimonies of expiring love! the feeble, fluttering, thrilling,—oh! how thrilling!—pressure of the hand! the last fond look of the glazing eye turning upon us, even from the threshold of existence! the faint, faltering accents, struggling in death to give one more assurance of affection!

Ay, go to the grave of buried love, and meditate! There settle the account with thy conscience for every past benefit unrequited; every past endearment unregarded, of that departed being, who can never—never—never return to be soothed by thy contrition! If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affectionate parent; if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth; if thou art a friend, and hast ever wronged, in thought, or word, or deed, the spirit that generously confided in thee; if thou hast given one unmerited pang to that true heart, which now lies cold and still beneath thy feet; then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy soul; then be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing tear; more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing.

Then weave thy chaplet of flowers, and strew the beauties of nature about the grave; console thy broken spirit, if thou canst, with these tender, yet futile, tributes of regret: but take warning by the bitterness of this, thy contrite affliction over the dead, and henceforth be more faithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy duties to the living.

(Irving)

【中文阅读】

为死者悲只不过是我们拒绝与其天各一方泯然而生的悲痛。我们寻求医治每一种其他的创伤，试图忘怀每一种其他苦难；但是，这种创伤我们将其视为一种可以敞开心扉的责任。我们珍视这种苦难，默默承受。有哪位母亲愿意忘记在自己怀中如花簇凋谢一般已经死去的婴儿，尽管每一次回忆都令她伤心欲绝？有哪个孩子愿意忘记父母的温情，尽管那种回忆令人悲从中来？即使会极度痛苦，可有谁能忘记已经魂归天外的朋友？

不会的。超越死亡的爱是灵魂最高尚的属性之一。如果说它有其不幸的话，同样也有欢乐。当悲伤以势不可挡之势爆发时，也会转化为回忆时的温和泪水，从而平静下来。当我们最珍爱的所有一切都成过往烟云时，我们突然爆发的极度痛苦和痉挛，也会渐渐缓解下来，转化为对往昔美好岁月的沉思和追忆，有谁会从心底彻底根除这样的悲伤呢？尽管在欢乐的幸福时刻，有时会掠过一丝悲伤的阴云，或者在沮丧时播下更深切的悲哀。然而，谁会为了快乐之歌，为了狂欢而用悲哀来交换呢？谁也不会的。从坟墓里传出的声音比歌声还要甜美。有一种对死亡的纪念，甚至源于对生活魅力的厌恶。

啊，坟墓！坟墓！它埋葬了所有错误，掩盖了所有过失，泯灭了所有怨恨！从它平静的胸怀，生出的只有温柔的悔恨和亲切的追忆。谁能俯视坟墓，哪怕是敌人的坟墓，内心不会油然而生内疚的悸动，难道他在与眼前这块正变得腐朽的土包作战吗？但是，我们深爱的那些人的坟墓，是一个让我们无限沉思的地方！我们在长久的缅怀中，唤醒了美德和高贵的整个历史。表示爱慕的千言万语给予我们太多的东西，在亲昵的日常谈话中几乎察觉不到。在那里我们寄寓了温情，庄重，还有分离场面难分难舍。死亡的床榻，连同所有被压抑的悲伤，参加葬礼的默默无声的人群，它的缄默，还有对另一个人保持警觉的关照！这是对即将中止的爱最后的证明！无力的，震颤的，令人毛骨悚然——啊，多么令人毛骨悚然啊——能感受到手掌的压力！转向我们那充满爱意最后的一瞥，甚至就来自生存的门槛！那微弱颤抖的声音，在死亡中挣扎着，发出更坚定的爱的保证。

呜呼，去埋葬爱的坟墓，沉思吧！为过去每一个得不到回报的恩惠，良心不得安宁；撒手人寰的生命过去每一次不受注意的表示爱慕的话语，永远不复返了，即使痛悔也绝不再会得到安稳了！如果你是一个孩子，那么父母就会在内心平添悲伤，或者在充满怜爱的父母那如霜的眉头刻下深深的皱纹。如果你是一个丈夫，当有人怀疑你的善良或你的真实性时，你会冒失去所有幸福的风险去捍卫盲目轻信的内心；如果你是一位朋友，曾经做过错事，不论在思想、言语还是行为上，那么你的精神境界一般而言会有局限性；假若你的心脏确实产生了不适的剧痛，你就应该在温度较低的地方平躺下来；然后可以肯定的是每一种近乎残酷的神情，每一句勉强的话语和每一个缺乏教养的行为，都会从记忆深处复活，令人沮丧地敲打和拷问着你的灵魂；此后在鬼门关前你肯定要忍受悲哀和悔恨的折磨，发出无人能听到的叹息，涌出徒劳的眼泪；之所以更深沉和辛酸，是因为无人能听到和徒劳无益。

接下来，人们为你编花圈，为坟墓点缀大自然的美；用这些温馨然而无甚意义的东西安慰你那颗破碎的心，聊表惋惜；但是，通过悲痛借以告诫，你对撒手人寰已经悔悟，从此以后将更忠实和充满深情地履行你对活人的责任。