拉爾夫‧沃爾多‧愛默生
(RALPH WALDO EMERSON)

自 助
Self-Reliance

愚蠢地堅持隨眾隨俗乃是心胸狹小的幽靈的表現。

隨著學園運動的發展，愛默生成了一位受人歡迎的演說家。學園運動始於十九世紀二十年代，是有組織的成人教育的一種早期形式。它將各種涉及社會問題和學術問題的演說、辯論和討論帶入美國東北和中西部各州的社區。該運動以亞裏士多德給學生講學的雅典學校命名，為諸如愛默生、亨利‧大衛‧梭羅、蘇珊‧比‧安東尼、弗雷德裏克‧道格拉斯和納撒尼爾‧霍桑等演說家提供了一個講壇和收入來源。

愛默生的自然主義哲學吸引了廣泛的注意和廣大的聽眾。他呼籲以內心自我、以直覺、以大自然作為生活和現實的指南，向那些秉承傳統、權威和教條的人提出了挑戰。對於個人主義者和不墨守陳規的人，對於厭惡古訓尋求內心真實的人來說，愛默生的言辭具有深遂的吸引力。美國每一代年輕人都重新發掘愛默生的思想。這篇雜文是愛默生的最佳代表作，具有警句式的文字和熱情洋溢的個人主義。該文最初發表在1841年愛默生的第一部散文集中。

前些日子我讀了一位著名畫家的詩作。這是些獨特而且不落俗套的作品。在這種詩句中，不論其主題是什麼，心靈總能聽到某種告誡。詩句中所注入的感情比它們所包含的思想內容更可貴。相信你自己的思想，相信凡是對你心靈來說是真實的，對所有其他人也是真實的──這就是天才。披露蜇伏在你內心的信念，它便具有普遍的意義；因為最內在的終將成為最外在的──我們最初的想法終將在上帝最後審判日的喇叭聲中得到回應。儘管心靈的聲音對每一個人來說都是熟悉的，但是我們認為，摩西、柏拉圖和彌爾頓最了不起的功績是他們蔑視書本和傳統，他們論及的不是人們想到的，而是他們自己的思想。人應當學會的是捕捉、觀察發自內心的閃光，而不是詩人和偉人們的聖光。但是，人們卻不加思索地拋棄自己的思想，就因為那是自己的思想。在每一部天才的作品中，我們都可以找到我們自己拋棄了的那些思想：它們帶著某種陌生的尊嚴回到我們這兒來。偉大的藝術作品給我們最深刻的教誨就是，要以最平和而又最執著的態度遵從內心自然而然產生的念頭，即使與其相應的看法正甚囂塵上。否則，明天某個人便將儼然以一位權威的口吻高談那些同我們曾經想到、感受到的一模一樣的想法，而我們卻只好慚愧地從他人手中接受我們自己的想法。

每個人在受教育過程中，總有一天會認識到：妒忌是無知，模仿是自殺。不論好歹，每個人都必須接受屬於他的那一份，廣闊的世界裏雖然充滿了珍饈美味，但是只有從給予他去耕耘的那一片土地裏，通過辛勤勞動收穫的穀物才富有營養。富於他體內的力量，實質上是新生的力量。只有他自己才知道他能幹什麼，而且他也只有在嘗試之後才能知曉。一張面孔、一個人物、一樁事情在他心中留下了印象，而其他的則不然。這並不是無緣無故的。這記憶中的塑像並非全無先驗的和諧。眼睛被置於某束光線將射到的地方，這樣它才可能感知到那束光線。大膽讓他直扡自己的全部信念吧。我們對自己總是遮遮掩掩，對我們每個人所代表的神聖意念感到羞愧。我們完全可以視這意念為與我們相稱、而又有益的意念，所以，應當忠實地宣揚它。不過，上帝是不會向懦夫揭示他的傑作的，只有神聖的人，才能展示神聖的事物。當一個人將身心傾注到工作中，並且竭盡了全力的時候，他就得到了解脫和歡樂。否則，他將為自己的言行忐忑不安，得到的是沒有解脫的解脫。在其問，他為自己的天賦所拋棄，沒有靈感與他為友，沒有發明，也沒有希望。

相信你自己吧：每顆心都隨著那弦跳動，接受上蒼為你找到的位置──同代人組成的社會和世網。偉大的人物總是像孩子似地將自己託付給時代的精神，披露他們所感知到的上帝正在他們內心引起騷動，正假他們之手在運作，並駕馭著他們整個身心。我們是人，必須在我們最高尚的心靈中接受同樣先驗的命運。我們不能畏縮在牆 角裏，不能像懦夫一樣在革命關頭逃脫；我們必須是贖罪者和捐助者，是虔誠的有志者，是全能上帝所造之物，讓我們向著混沌亂世，向著黑暗衝鋒吧…

這些話語當我們獨處時可以聽到，可是當我們邁進這世界時，話音就減弱了、聽不到了。社會到處都是防患各社會成員成熟起來的陰謀。社會是一個股份公司。在這公司裏，成員們為了讓各個股東更好地保住自己的那份麵包，同意放棄吃麵包者的自由和文化。它最需要的美德是隨眾隨俗，它厭惡的是自力更生，它鍾愛的不是現實和創造者，而是名份和習俗。

任何名副其實的真正的人，都必須是不落俗套的人。任何採集聖地棕擱葉的人，都不應當拘泥於名義上的善，而應當發掘善之本身。除了我們心靈的真誠之外，其他的一切歸根結蒂都不是神聖的。解脫自己，皈依自我，也就必然得到世人的認可。記得，當我還很小的時候，有位頗受人尊重的師長。他習慣不厭其煩地向我灌輸宗教的古老教條。有一回，我禁不住回了他一句。聽到我說，如果我完全靠內心的指點來生活，那麼我拿那些神聖的傳統幹嘛呢；我的這位朋友提出說：「可是，內心的衝動可能是低下的，而不是高尚的。」我回答說：「在我看來，卻不是如此。不過，倘若我是魔鬼的孩子，那麼我就要照魔鬼的指點來生活。」除了天性的法則之外，在我看來，沒有任何法則是神聖的。好與壞，只不過是個名聲而已，不費吹灰之力，便可以將它從這人身上移到那人身上。唯一正確的，是順從自身結構的事物；唯一錯誤的，是逆自身結構的事物。一個人面對反對意見，其舉措應當像除了他自己之外，其他的一切都是有名無實的過眼煙雲。使我慚愧的是，我們如此易於成為招牌、名份的俘虜，成為龐大的社團和毫無生氣的習俗的俘虜。任何一個正派、談吐優雅之士都比一位無懈可擊的人更能影響我、左右我。我應當正直坦誠、生氣勃勃，以各種方式直抒未加粉飾的真理……

我必須做的是一切與我有關的事，而不是別人想要我做的事。這條法則，在現實生活和精神生活中都是同樣艱巨困難的，它是偉大與低賤的整個區別。它將變得更加艱巨，如果你總是碰到一些自以為比你自己更懂得什麼是你的責任的人。按照世人的觀念在這世界上生活是件容易的事；按照你自己的觀念，離群索居也不難；但若置身在世人之間，卻能盡善盡美地怕然保持著個人獨立性，卻只有偉人才能辦得到。

抵制在你看來已是毫無生氣的習俗，是因為這些習俗耗盡你的精力。它消耗你的時光，隱翳你的性格。如果你上毫無生氣的教堂，為毫無生氣的聖經會捐款，投大黨的票擁護或反對政府，擺餐桌同粗俗的管家沒什麼兩樣──那麼在所有這些屏障下，我就很難準確看出你究竟是什麼樣的人。當然，這樣做也將從你生活本身中耗去相應的精力。然而，如果你所做的是你所要做的事，那麼我就能看出你到底是什麼樣的人。做你自己的事，你也就從中增強了自身。一個人必須要想到，隨眾隨俗無異於蒙住你的眼睛。假如我知道你屬於哪個教派，我就能預見到你會使用的論據。我曾經聽一位傳教士宣稱，他的講稿和主題都取材自他的教會的某一規定。難道我不是早就知道他根本不可能即興說一句話嗎?……算了，大部分人都用這樣或那樣的手帕蒙住自己的眼睛，使自己依附於某個社團觀點。保持這種一致性，迫使他們不僅僅在一些細節上弄虛作假，說一些假話，而是在所有的細節上都弄虛作假。他們所有的真理都不太真。他們的二並不是真正的二，他們的四也不是真正的四：他們說的每一個字都使我們失望，而我們又不知道該從哪兒下手去糾正它。同時，自然卻 俐落地在我們身上套上我們所效忠的政黨的囚犯號衣。我們都板著同樣的面孔，擺著同樣的架式，逐漸習得最有紳士風度而又愚蠢得像驢一樣的表達方式。尤其值得一提的是一種丟人的、並且也在歷史上留下了自己印記的經歷。我指的是「傻乎乎的恭維」──我們渾身不自在地同一些人相處時，臉上便堆起這種假笑；我們就毫無興趣的話題搭腔時，臉上便堆起這種微笑。其面部肌肉不是自然地運作，而是為一種低下的、處心積慮的抽搐所牽引，肌肉在面龐週邊繃得緊緊的，給人一種最不愉快的感覺：一種受責備和警告的感覺。這種感覺，任何勇敢的年輕人都絕不會願意體驗第二次。

世人用不快來鞭撻不落俗套的人……對於一位堅強的探諳世事的人來說，容忍有教養的紳士們的憤怒不是件難事。他們的憤怒是正派得體，謹慎穩重的。因為他們本身就非常容易招來責難，所以他們膽小怕事。但是，若引起他們那女性特有的憤怒，其憤慨便有所升級；倘若無知和貧窮的人們被唆使，倘若處於社會底層的非理性的野蠻力量被慫勇狂吼發難，那就需要養成寬宏大量和宗教的習慣，像神一樣把它當作無關緊要的瑣事。

另一個使我們不敢自信的恐懼是我們想要隨眾隨俗。這是我們對自己過去的所作所為的敬畏之情，因為在別人眼裏能夠藉以評判我們行為軌跡的依據，除了我們的所作所為之外別無他物，而我們又不願意使他們失望。

但是，你為什麼要往回看呢?為什麼你老要抱著回憶的殭屍，唯恐說出與你曾經在這個或那個公開場合說的話有點兒矛盾的話來呢?倘若你說了些自相矛盾的話，那又怎麼樣呢?

愚蠢地堅持隨眾隨俗是心胸狹小的幽靈的表現，是低級的政客，哲學家和神學家們崇拜的物件。偉大的人物根本就不會隨眾隨俗。他也許倒更關心自己落在牆上的影子。嘿！把好你的那張嘴！用包裝線把雙唇縫起來！否則，你若要做一個真正的人的話，今天你想說什麼就說什麼，像放連珠炮一樣；明天你想說什麼，照樣斬釘截鐵地說什麼，哪怕跟你今天說的一切都是相互予盾的。哈哈！老婦人，你就嚷嚷去吧！你肯定會被人誤解的！誤解，恰恰是個傻瓜的字眼。被人誤解就那麼不好嗎?畢達哥拉斯被人誤解，蘇格拉底、耶穌、路德、哥白尼、伽利略和牛頓，每一位純粹而又聰明、曾經生活過的人都曾被人誤解過。要做個偉人，就一定會被人誤解……

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. . . .