westminster abbey-第3节
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senses are overwhelmed。 And now it is winding up in full jubilee… it
is rising from the earth to heaven… the very soul seems rapt away
and floated upwards on this swelling tide of harmony！
I sat for some time lost in that kind of reverie which a strain of
music is apt sometimes to inspire： the shadows of evening were
gradually thickening round me； the monuments began to cast deeper
and deeper gloom； and the distant clock again gave token of the slowly
waning day。
I rose and prepared to leave the abbey。 As I descended the flight of
steps which lead into the body of the building； my eye was caught by
the shrine of Edward the Confessor； and I ascended the small staircase
that conducts to it； to take from thence a general survey of this
wilderness of tombs。 The shrine is elevated upon a kind of platform；
and close around it are the sepulchres of various kings and queens。
From this eminence the eye looks down between pillars and funeral
trophies to the chapels and chambers below； crowded with tombs；
where warriors； prelates； courtiers and statesmen； lie mouldering in
their 〃beds of darkness。〃 Close by me stood the great chair of
coronation； rudely carved of oak； in the barbarous taste of a remote
and Gothic age。 The scene seemed almost as if contrived； with
theatrical artifice； to produce an effect upon the beholder。 Here
was a type of the beginning and the end of human pomp and power；
here it was literally but a step from the throne to the sepulchre。
Would not one think that these incongruous mementos had been
gathered together as a lesson to living greatness？… to show it； even
in the moment of its proudest exaltation； the neglect and dishonor
to which it must soon arrive； how soon that crown which encircles
its brow must pass away； and it must lie down in the dust and
disgraces of the tomb； and be trampled upon by the feet of the meanest
of the multitude。 For； strange to tell； even the grave is here no
longer a sanctuary。 There is a shocking levity in some natures；
which leads them to sport with awful and hallowed things； and there
are base minds； which delight to revenge on the illustrious dead the
abject homage and grovelling servility which they pay to the living。
The coffin of Edward the Confessor has been broken open； and his
remains despoiled of their funereal ornaments； the sceptre has been
stolen from the hand of the imperious Elizabeth； and the effigy of
Henry the Fifth lies headless。 Not a royal monument but bears some
proof how false and fugitive is the homage of mankind。 Some are
plundered； some mutilated； some covered with ribaldry and insult…
all more or less outraged and dishonored！
The last beams of day were now faintly streaming through the painted
windows in the high vaults above me； the lower parts of the abbey were
already wrapped in the obscurity of twilight。 The chapels and aisles
grew darker and darker。 The effigies of the kings faded into
shadows； the marble figures of the monuments assumed strange shapes in
the uncertain light； the evening breeze crept through the aisles
like the cold breath of the grave； and even the distant footfall of
a verger； traversing the Poet's Corner； had something strange and
dreary in its sound。 I slowly retraced my morning's walk； and as I
passed out at the portal of the cloisters； the door； closing with a
jarring noise behind me； filled the whole building with echoes。
I endeavored to form some arrangement in my mind of the objects I
had been contemplating； but found they were already fallen into
indistinctness and confusion。 Names； inscriptions； trophies； had all
become confounded in my recollection； though I had scarcely taken my
foot from off the threshold。 What； thought I； is this vast
assemblage of sepulchres but a treasury of humiliation； a huge pile of
reiterated homilies on the emptiness of renown； and the certainty of
oblivion！ It is； indeed； the empire of death； his great shadowy
palace； where he sits in state； mocking at the relics of human
glory； and spreading dust and forgetfulness on the monuments of
princes。 How idle a boast； after all； is the immortality of a name！
Time is ever silently turning over his pages； we are too much
engrossed by the story of the present； to think of the characters
and anecdotes that gave interest to the past； and each age is a volume
thrown aside to be speedily forgotten。 The idol of to…day pushes the
hero of yesterday out of our recollection； and will； in turn； be
supplanted by his successor of tomorrow。 〃Our fathers；〃 says Sir
Thomas Brown； 〃find their graves in our short memories； and sadly tell
us how we may be buried in our survivors。〃 History fades into fable；
fact becomes clouded with doubt and controversy； the inscription
moulders from the tablet； the statue falls from the pedestal。 Columns；
arches； pyramids； what are they but heaps of sand； and their epitaphs；
but characters written in the dust？ What is the security of a tomb； or
the perpetuity of an embalmment？ The remains of Alexander the Great
have been scattered to the wind； and his empty sarcophagus is now
the mere curiosity of a museum。 〃The Egyptian mummies； which
Cambyses or time hath spared； avarice now consumeth； Mizraim cures
wounds； and Pharaoh is sold for balsams。〃*
* Sir T。 Brown。
What then is to insure this pile which now towers above me from
sharing the fate of mightier mausoleums？ The time must come when its
gilded vaults； which now spring so loftily； shall lie in rubbish
beneath the feet； when； instead of the sound of melody and praise； the
wind shall whistle through the broken arches； and the owl hoot from
the shattered tower… when the garish sunbeam shall break into these
gloomy mansions of death； and the ivy twine round the fallen column；
and the fox…glove hang its blossoms about the nameless urn； as if in
mockery of the dead。 Thus man passes away； his name perishes from
record and recollection； his history is as a tale that is told； and
his very monument becomes a ruin。
THE END
。
