高山上的呼喊-go tell it on the mountain-第11章

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he　hallways　and　the　rooms　were　dark；and　where　the　unconquerable　odor　was　of　dust；　and　sweat；　and　urine；　and　home…made　gin。　In　thenarrow　way；　the　way　of　the　cross；　there　awaited　him　only　humiliation　for　ever；　there　awaited　him；one　day；　a　house　like　his　father’s　house；　and　a　church　like　his　father’s；　and　a　job　like　his　father’s；where　he　would　grow　old　and　black　with　hunger　and　toil。　The　way　of　the　cross　had　given　him　abelly　filled　with　wind　and　had　bent　his　mother’s　back；　they　had　never　worn　fine　clothes；　but　here；where　the　buildings　contested　God’s　power　and　where　the　men　and　women　did　not　fear　God；　herehe　might　eat　and　drink　to　his　heart’s　content　and　clothe　his　body　with　wondrous　fabrics；　rich　to　theeye　and　pleasing　to　the　touch。　And　then　what　of　his　soul；　which　would　one　day　e　to　die　andstand　naked　before　the　judgment　bar？　What　would　his　conquest　of　the　city　profit　him　on　that　day？
　　To　hurl　away；　for　a　moment　of　ease；　the　glories　of　eternity！
　　These　glories　were　unimaginable—but　the　city　was　real。　He　stood　for　a　moment　on　themelting　snow；　distracted；　and　then　began　to　run　down　the　hill；　feeling　himself　fly　as　the　descentbecame　more　rapid；　and　thinking：　‘I　can　climb　back　up。　If　it’s　wrong；　I　can　always　climb　back　up。’
　　At　the　bottom　of　the　hill；　where　the　ground　abruptly　leveled　off　on　to　a　gravel　path；　he　nearlyknocked　down　an　old　white　man　with　a　white　beard；　who　was　walking　very　slowly　and　leaning　onhis　cane。　They　both　stopped；　astonished；　and　looked　at　one　another。　John　struggled　to　catch　hisbreath　and　apologize；　but　old　man　smiled。　John　smiled　back。　It　was　as　though　he　and　the　old　manhad　between　them　a　great　secret；　and　the　old　man　moved　on。　The　snow　glittered　in　patches　all　overthe　park。　Ice；　under　the　pale；　strong　sun；　melted　slowly　on　the　branches　and　trunks　of　trees。
　　　He　came　out　of　the　park　at　Fifth　Avenue　where；　as　always；　the　old…fashioned　horse…carriages　were　lined　along　the　kerb；　their　drivers　sitting　on　the　high　seats　with　rugs　around　theirknees；　or　standing　in　twos　and　threes　near　the　horses；　stamping　their　feet　and　smoking　pipes　andtalking。　I　summer　he　had　seen　people　riding　in　these　carriages；　looking　like　people　out　of　books；　orout　of　movies　in　which　everyone　wore　old…fashioned　clothes　and　rushed　at　nightfall　over　frozenroad；　hotly　pursued　by　their　enemies　who　wanted　to　carry　them　back　to　death。　‘Look　back；　lookback；’　had　cried　a　beautiful　woman　with　long　blonde　curls；　‘and　see　if　we　are　pursued！—and　shehad　e；　as　John　remembered；　to　a　terrible　end。　Now　he　stared　at　the　horses；　enormous　andbrown　and　patient；　stamping　every　now　and　again　a　polished　hoof；　and　he　thought　of　what　it　wouldbe　like　to　have　one　day　a　horse　of　his　own。　He　would　call　it　Rider；　and　mount　it　at　morning　whenthe　grass　was　wet；　and　from　the　horse’s　back　look　out　over　great；　sun…filled　fields；　his　own。　Behindhim　stood　his　house；　great　and　rambling　and　very　new；　and　in　the　kitchen　his　wife；　a　beautifulwoman；　made　breakfast；　and　the　smoke　rose　out　of　the　chimney；　melting　into　the　morning　air。
　　They　had　children；　who　called　him　Papa　and　for　whom　at　Christmas　he　bought　electric　trains。　Andhe　had　turkeys　and　cows　and　chickens　and　geese；　and　other　horses　besides　Rider。　They　had　a　closetfull　of　whisky　and　wine；　they　had　cars—but　what　church　did　they　go　to　and　what　would　he　teachhis　children　when　they　gathered　around　him　in　the　evening？　He　looked　straight　ahead；　down　FifthAvenue；　where　graceful　women　in　fur　coats　walked；　looking　into　the　windows　that　held　silkdresses；　and　watches；　and　rings。　What　church　did　they　go　to？　And　what　were　their　houses　like　inthe　evening　they　took　off　these　coats；　and　these　silk　dresses；　and　put　their　jewelery　in　a　box；　andleaned　back　in　soft　beds　to　think　for　a　moment　before　they　slept　of　the　day　gone　by？　Did　they　reada　verse　from　the　Bible　every　night　and　fall　on　their　knees　to　pray？　But　no；　for　their　thoughts　werenot　of　God；　and　their　way　was　not　God’s　way。　They　were　in　the　world；　and　of　the　world；　and　theirfeet　laid　hold　on　Hell。
　　Yet　in　school　some　of　them　had　been　nice　to　him；　and　it　was　hard　to　think　of　them　burningin　Hell　for　ever；　they　who　were　so　gracious　and　beautiful　now。　Once；　one　winter　when　he　had　beenvery　sick　with　a　heavy　cold　that　would　not　leave　him；　one　of　his　teachers　had　bought　him　a　bottleof　cod…liver　oil；　especially　prepared　with　heavy　syrup　so　that　it　did　not　taste　so　bad：　this　was　surelya　Christian　act。　His　mother　had　said　that　God　would　bless　that　woman；　and　he　had　got　better。　Theywere　kind—he　was　sire　that　they　were　kind—and　on　the　day　that　he　would　bring　himself　to　theirattention　they　would　surely　love　and　honor　him。　This　was　not　his　father’s　opinion。　His　father　saidthat　all　white　people　were　wicked；　and　that　God　was　going　to　bring　them　low。　He　said　that　whitepeople　were　never　to　be　trusted；　and　that　they　told　nothing　but　lies；　and　that　no　one　of　them　hadever　loved　a　nigger。　He；　John；　was　a　nigger；　and　he　would　find　out；　as　soon　as　he　got　a　little　older；how　evil　white　people　could　be。　John　had　read　about　the　things　white　people　did　to　colored　people；how；　in　the　South；　where　his　parents　came　from；　white　people　cheated　them　of　their　wages；　andburned　them；　and　shot　them—and　did　worse　things；　said　his　father；　which　the　tongue　could　notendure　to　utter。　He　had　read　about　colored　men　being　burned　in　the　electric　chair　for　things　theyhad　not　done；　how　in　riots　they　were　beaten　with　clubs；　how　they　were　tortured　in　prisons；　howthey　were　the　last　to　be　hired　and　the　first　to　be　fired。　Niggers　did　not　live　on　these　streets　whereJohn　now　walked；　it　was　forbidden；　and　yet　he　walked　here；　and　no　one　raised　a　hand　against　him。
　　But　did　he　dare　to　enter　this　shop　out　of　which　a　woman　now　casually　walked；　carrying　a　greatround　box？　Or　this　apartment　before　which　a　white　man　stood；　dressed　in　a　brilliant　uniform？　John　knew　he　did　not　dare；　not　to…day；　and　he　heard　his　father’s　laugh：　‘No；　nor　to…morrow　neither！’　Forhim　there　was　the　back　door；　and　the　dark　stairs；　and　the　kitchen　or　the　basement。　This　world　wasnot　for　him。　If　he　refused　to　believe；　and　wanted　to　break　his　neck　trying；　then　he　could　try　untilthe　sun　refused　to　shine；　they　would　never　let　him　enter。　In　John’s　mind　then；　the　people　and　theavenue　underwent　a　change；　and　he　feared　them　and　knew　that　one　day　he　could　hate　them　if　Goddid　not　change　his　heart。
　　He　left　Fifth　Avenue　and　walked　west　toward　the　movie　houses。　Here　on　42nd　Street　it　wasless　elegant　but　not　less　strange。　He　loved　this　street；　not　for　the　people　or　the　shops　but　for　thestone　lions　that　guarded　the　great　main　building　of　the　Public　Library；　a　building　filled　with　bookand　unimaginably　vast；　and　which　he　had　never　yet　dared　to　enter。　He　might；　he　knew；　for　he　was　amember　of　the　branch　in　Harlem　and　was　entitled　to　take　books　from　any　library　in　the　city。　But　hehad　never　gone　in　because　the　building　was　so　big　that　it　must　be　full　of　corridors　and　marblesteps；　in　the　maze　of　which　he　would　be　lost　and　never　find　the　book　he　wanted。　And　theneveryone；　all　the　white　people　inside；　would　know　that　he　was　not　used　to　great　buildings；　or　tomany　books；　and　they　would　look　at　him　wit　pity。　He　would　enter　on　another　day；　when　he　hadrea