拉尔夫．沃尔多．埃默森
(RALPH WALDO EMERSON)

自 助
Self-Reliance

愚蠢地坚持随衆随俗乃是心胸狭小的幽灵的表现。

随着学园运动的发展，埃默森成了一位受人欢迎的演说家。学园运动始于十九世纪二十年代，是有组织的成人教育的一种早期形式。它将各种涉及社会问题和学术问题的演说、辩论和讨论带入美国东北和中西部各州的社区。该运动以亚里士多德给学生讲学的雅典学校命名，爲诸如埃默森、亨利．戴维．梭罗、苏珊．比．安东尼、弗雷德里克．道格拉斯和纳撒尼尔．霍桑等演说家提供了一个讲坛和收入来源。

埃默森的自然主义哲学吸引了广泛的注意和广大的听衆。他呼吁以内心自我、以直觉、以大自然作爲生活和现实的指南，向那些秉承传统、权威和教条的人提出了挑战。对于个人主义者和不墨守陈规的人，对于厌恶古训寻求内心真实的人来说，埃默森的言辞具有深遂的吸引力。美国每一代年轻人都重新发掘埃默森的思想。这篇杂文是埃默森的最佳代表作，具有警句式的文字和热情洋溢的个人主义。该文最初发表在1841年埃默森的第一部散文集中。

前些日子我读了一位著名画家的诗作。这是些独特而且不落俗套的作品。在这种诗句中，不论其主题是什麽，心灵总能听到某种告诫。诗句中所注入的感情比它们所包含的思想内容更可贵。相信你自己的思想，相信凡是对你心灵来说是真实的，对所有其它人也是真实的──这就是天才。披露蜇伏在你内心的信念，它便具有普遍的意义；因爲最内在的终将成爲最外在的──我们最初的想法终将在上帝最后审判日的喇叭声中得到响应。尽管心灵的声音对每一个人来说都是熟悉的，但是我们认爲，摩西、柏拉图和弥尔顿最了不起的功绩是他们蔑视书本和传统，他们论及的不是人们想到的，而是他们自己的思想。人应当学会的是捕捉、观察发自内心的闪光，而不是诗人和伟人们的圣光。但是，人们却不加思索地抛弃自己的思想，就因爲那是自己的思想。在每一部天才的作品中，我们都可以找到我们自己抛弃了的那些思想：它们带着某种陌生的尊严回到我们这儿来。伟大的艺术作品给我们最深刻的教诲就是，要以最平和而又最执着的态度遵从内心自然而然産生的念头，即使与其相应的看法正甚嚣尘上。否则，明天某个人便将俨然以一位权威的口吻高谈那些同我们曾经想到、感受到的一模一样的想法，而我们却只好惭愧地从他人手中接受我们自己的想法。

每个人在受教育过程中，总有一天会认识到：妒忌是无知，模仿是自杀。不论好歹，每个人都必须接受属于他的那一份，广阔的世界里虽然充满了珍馐美味，但是只有从给予他去耕耘的那一片土地里，通过辛勤劳动收获的谷物才富有营养。富于他体内的力量，实质上是新生的力量。只有他自己才知道他能干什麽，而且他也只有在尝试之后才能知晓。一张面孔、一个人物、一桩事情在他心中留下了印象，而其它的则不然。这并不是无缘无故的。这记忆中的塑像并非全无先验的和谐。眼睛被置于某束光线将射到的地方，这样它才可能感知到那束光线。大胆让他直扦自己的全部信念吧。我们对自己总是遮遮掩掩，对我们每个人所代表的神圣意念感到羞愧。我们完全可以视这意念爲与我们相称、而又有益的意念，所以，应当忠实地宣扬它。不过，上帝是不会向懦夫揭示他的杰作的，只有神圣的人，才能展示神圣的事物。当一个人将身心倾注到工作中，并且竭尽了全力的时候，他就得到了解脱和欢乐。否则，他将爲自己的言行忐忑不安，得到的是没有解脱的解脱。在其问，他爲自己的天赋所抛弃，没有灵感与他爲友，没有发明，也没有希望。

相信你自己吧：每颗心都随着那弦跳动，接受上苍爲你找到的位置──同代人组成的社会和世网。伟大的人物总是像孩子似地将自己托付给时代的精神，披露他们所感知到的上帝正在他们内心引起骚动，正假他们之手在运作，并驾驭着他们整个身心。我们是人，必须在我们最高尚的心灵中接受同样先验的命运。我们不能畏缩在墙 角里，不能像懦夫一样在革命关头逃脱；我们必须是赎罪者和捐助者，是虔诚的有志者，是全能上帝所造之物，让我们向着混沌乱世，向着黑暗冲锋吧…

这些话语当我们独处时可以听到，可是当我们迈进这世界时，话音就减弱了、听不到了。社会到处都是防患各社会成员成熟起来的阴谋。社会是一个股份公司。在这公司里，成员们爲了让各个股东更好地保住自己的那份面包，同意放弃吃面包者的自由和文化。它最需要的美德是随衆随俗，它厌恶的是自力更生，它钟爱的不是现实和创造者，而是名份和习俗。

任何名副其实的真正的人，都必须是不落俗套的人。任何采集圣地棕搁叶的人，都不应当拘泥于名义上的善，而应当发掘善之本身。除了我们心灵的真诚之外，其它的一切归根结蒂都不是神圣的。解脱自己，皈依自我，也就必然得到世人的认可。记得，当我还很小的时候，有位颇受人尊重的师长。他习惯不厌其烦地向我灌输宗教的古老教条。有一回，我禁不住回了他一句。听到我说，如果我完全靠内心的指点来生活，那麽我拿那些神圣的传统干嘛呢；我的这位朋友提出说：“可是，内心的冲动可能是低下的，而不是高尚的。”我回答说：“在我看来，却不是如此。不过，倘若我是魔鬼的孩子，那麽我就要照魔鬼的指点来生活。”除了天性的法则之外，在我看来，没有任何法则是神圣的。好与坏，只不过是个名声而已，不费吹灰之力，便可以将它从这人身上移到那人身上。唯一正确的，是顺从自身结构的事物；唯一错误的，是逆自身结构的事物。一个人面对反对意见，其举措应当像除了他自己之外，其它的一切都是有名无实的过眼烟云。使我惭愧的是，我们如此易于成爲招牌、名份的俘虏，成爲庞大的社团和毫无生气的习俗的俘虏。任何一个正派、谈吐优雅之士都比一位无懈可击的人更能影响我、左右我。我应当正直坦诚、生气勃勃，以各种方式直抒未加粉饰的真理……

我必须做的是一切与我有关的事，而不是别人想要我做的事。这条法则，在现实生活和精神生活中都是同样艰巨困难的，它是伟大与低贱的整个区别。它将变得更加艰巨，如果你总是碰到一些自以爲比你自己更懂得什麽是你的责任的人。按照世人的观念在这世界上生活是件容易的事；按照你自己的观念，离群索居也不难；但若置身在世人之间，却能尽善尽美地怕然保持着个人独立性，却只有伟人才能办得到。

抵制在你看来已是毫无生气的习俗，是因爲这些习俗耗尽你的精力。它消耗你的时光，隐翳你的性格。如果你上毫无生气的教堂，爲毫无生气的圣经会捐款，投大党的票拥护或反对政府，摆餐桌同粗俗的管家没什麽两样──那麽在所有这些屏障下，我就很难准确看出你究竟是什麽样的人。当然，这样做也将从你生活本身中耗去相应的精力。然而，如果你所做的是你所要做的事，那麽我就能看出你到底是什麽样的人。做你自己的事，你也就从中增强了自身。一个人必须要想到，随衆随俗无异于蒙住你的眼睛。假如我知道你属于哪个教派，我就能预见到你会使用的论据。我曾经听一位传教士宣称，他的讲稿和主题都取材自他的教会的某一规定。难道我不是早就知道他根本不可能即兴说一句话吗?……算了，大部分人都用这样或那样的手帕蒙住自己的眼睛，使自己依附于某个社团观点。保持这种一致性，迫使他们不仅仅在一些细节上弄虚作假，说一些假话，而是在所有的细节上都弄虚作假。他们所有的真理都不太真。他们的二并不是真正的二，他们的四也不是真正的四：他们说的每一个字都使我们失望，而我们又不知道该从哪儿下手去纠正它。同时，自然却 利落地在我们身上套上我们所效忠的政党的囚犯号衣。我们都板着同样的面孔，摆着同样的架式，逐渐习得最有绅士风度而又愚蠢得像驴一样的表达方式。尤其值得一提的是一种丢人的、并且也在历史上留下了自己印记的经历。我指的是“傻乎乎的恭维”──我们浑身不自在地同一些人相处时，脸上便堆起这种假笑；我们就毫无兴趣的话题搭腔时，脸上便堆起这种微笑。其面部肌肉不是自然地运作，而是爲一种低下的、处心积虑的抽搐所牵引，肌肉在面庞外围绷得紧紧的，给人一种最不愉快的感觉：一种受责备和警告的感觉。这种感觉，任何勇敢的年轻人都绝不会愿意体验第二次。

世人用不快来鞭挞不落俗套的人……对于一位坚强的探谙世事的人来说，容忍有教养的绅士们的愤怒不是件难事。他们的愤怒是正派得体，谨慎稳重的。因爲他们本身就非常容易招来责难，所以他们胆小怕事。但是，若引起他们那女性特有的愤怒，其愤慨便有所升级；倘若无知和贫穷的人们被唆使，倘若处于社会底层的非理性的野蛮力量被怂勇狂吼发难，那就需要养成宽宏大量和宗教的习惯，像神一样把它当作无关紧要的琐事。

另一个使我们不敢自信的恐惧是我们想要随衆随俗。这是我们对自己过去的所作所爲的敬畏之情，因爲在别人眼里能够藉以评判我们行爲轨迹的依据，除了我们的所作所爲之外别无他物，而我们又不愿意使他们失望。

但是，你爲什麽要往回看呢?爲什麽你老要抱着回忆的僵尸，唯恐说出与你曾经在这个或那个公开场合说的话有点儿矛盾的话来呢?倘若你说了些自相矛盾的话，那又怎麽样呢?

愚蠢地坚持随衆随俗是心胸狭小的幽灵的表现，是低级的政客，哲学家和神学家们崇拜的物件。伟大的人物根本就不会随衆随俗。他也许倒更关心自己落在墙上的影子。嘿！把好你的那张嘴！用包装线把双唇缝起来！否则，你若要做一个真正的人的话，今天你想说什麽就说什麽，像放连珠炮一样；明天你想说什麽，照样斩钉截铁地说什麽，哪怕跟你今天说的一切都是相互予盾的。哈哈！老妇人，你就嚷嚷去吧！你肯定会被人误解的！误解，恰恰是个傻瓜的字眼。被人误解就那麽不好吗?毕达哥拉斯被人误解，苏格拉底、耶稣、路德、哥白尼、伽利略和牛顿，每一位纯粹而又聪明、曾经生活过的人都曾被人误解过。要做个伟人，就一定会被人误解……

I read the other day some verses written by an eminent painter which were original and not conventional. Always the soul hears an admonition in such lines, let the subject be what it may. The sentiment they instil is of more value than any thought they may contain. To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men,--that is genius. Speak your latent conviction, and it shall be universal sense; for always the inmost becomes the outmost--and our first thought is rendered back to us by the trumpets of the Last Judgment. Familiar as the voice of the mind is to each, the highest merit we ascribe to Moses, Plato and Milton is that they set at naught books and traditions, and spoke not what men, but what they thought, A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages. Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his. In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty. Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this. They teach us to abide by our spontaneous impression with good-humored inflexibility then most when the whole cry of voices is on the other side. Else to-morrow a stranger will say with masterly good sense precisely what we have thought and felt all the time, and we shall be forced to take with shame our own opinion from another.

    There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is  ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better for worse as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till. The power which resides in him is new in nature, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried. Not for nothing one face, one character, one fact, makes much impression on him, and another none. It is not without preestablished harmony, this sculpture in the memory. The eye was placed where one ray should fall, that it might testily of that particular ray. Bravely let him speak the utmost syllable of his confession. We but half express ourselves, and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents. It may be safely trusted as proportionate and of good issues, so it be faithfully imparted, but God will not have his work made manifest by cowards. It needs a divine man to exhibit anything divine. A man is relieved and gay when he has put his heart into his work and done his best; but what he has said or done otherwise shall give him no peace. It is a deliverance which does not deliver. In the attempt his genius deserts him; no muse befriends; no invention, no hope.

    Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connexion of events. Great men have always done so, and confided themselves childlike to the genius of their age, betraying their perception that the Eternal was stirring at their heart, working through their hands, predominating in all their being. And we are now men, and must accept in the highest mind the same transcendent destiny; and not pinched in a corner, not cowards fleeing before a revolution, but redeemers and benefactors, pious aspirants to be noble clay under the Almighty effort let us advance on Chaos and the Dark…

    These are the voices which we hear in solitude, but they grow faint and inaudible as we enter into the world. Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members. Society is a joint-stock company, in which the members agree, for the better securing of his bread to each shareholder, to surrender the liberty and culture of the eater. The virtue in most request is conformity. Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and customs.

    Whoso would be a man, must be a nonconformist. He who would gather immortal palms must not be hindered by the name of goodness, but must explore if it be goodness. Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of our own mind. Absolve you to yourself, and you shall have the suffrage of the world. I remember an answer which when quite young I was prompted to make to a valued adviser who was wont to importune me with the dear old doctrines of the church. On my saying, What have I to do with the sacredness of traditions, if I live wholly from within? My friend suggested,--"But these impulses may be from below, not from above." I replied. "They do not seem to me to be such; but if I am the devil's child, I will live then from the devil." No law can be sacred to me but that of my nature. Good and bad are but names very readily transferable to that or this; the only right is that is after my constitution; the only wrong what is against it. A man is to carry himself in the presence of all opposition as if every thing were titular and ephemeral but he. I am ashamed to think how easily we capitulate to badges and names, to large societies and dead institutions. Every decent and well-spoken individual affects and sways me more than is right. I ought to go upright and vital, and speak the rude truth in all ways. . . .

   What I must do is all that concerns me, not what the people think. This rule, equally arduous in actual and in intellectual life, may serve for the whole distinction between greatness and meanness. It is the harder because you will always find those who think they know what is your duty better than you know it. It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.

    The objection to conforming to usages that have become dead to you is that it scatters your force. It loses your time and blurs the impression of your character. If you maintain a dead church, contribute to a dead Bible Society, vote with a great party either for the Government or against it, spread your table like base housekeepers,--under all these screens I have difficulty to detect the precise man you are. And of course so much force is withdrawn from your proper life. But do your thing, and I shall know you. Do your work, and you shall reinforce yourself. A man must consider what a blind man's-buff is this game of conformity. If I know your sect I anticipate your argument. I hear a preacher announce for his text and topic the expediency of one of the institutions of his church. Do I not know beforehand that not possibly can he say a new and spontaneous word?

 . . . Well, most men have bound their eyes with one or another handkerchief, and attached themselves to some one of these communities of opinion. This conformity makes them not false in a few particulars, authors of a few lies, but false in all particulars. Their every truth is not quite true. Their two is not the real two, their four not the real four: so that every word they say chagrins us and we know not where to begin to set them right. Meantime nature is not slow to equip us in the prison-uniform of the party to which we adhere. We come to wear one cut of face and figure, and acquire by degrees the gentlest asinine expression. There is a mortifying experience in particular, which does not fail to wreak itself also in the general history; I mean "the foolish face of praise," the forced smile which we put on in company where we do not feel at ease, in answer to conversation which does not interest us. The muscles, not spontaneously moved but moved by a low usurping wilfulness, grow tight about the outline of the face, and make the most disagreeable sensation; a sensation of rebuke and warning which no brave young man will suffer twice.

    For nonconformity the world whips you with its displeasure. . . . It is easy enough for a firm man who knows the world to brook the rage of the cultivated classes. Their rage is decorous and prudent, for they are timid, as being very vulnerable themselves. But when to their feminine rage the indignation of the people is added, when the ignorant and the poor are aroused, when the unintelligent brute force that lies at the bottom of society is made to growl and mow, it needs the habit of magnanimity and religion to treat it godlike as a trifle of no concernment.

    The other terror that scares us from self-trust is our consistency; a reverence for our past act or word because the eyes of others have no other data for computing our orbit than our past acts, and we are loath to disappoint them.

    But why should you keep your head over your shoulder? Why drag about this monstrous corpse of your memory, lest you contradict somewhat you have stated in this or that public place? Suppose you should contradict yourself; what then? . . .

    A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Out upon your guarded lips! Sew them up with packthread, do. Else if you would be a man speak what you think to-day in words as hard as cannon balls, and to-morrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said to-day. Ah, then, exclaim the aged ladies, you shall be sure to be misunderstood! Misunderstood! It is a right fool's word. Is it so bad then to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood. . . .