"The statement is so paradoxical that we can certainly emphasize it with a new section."
"What did you mean by that?"
"Oh, nothing, Sophie. But we did say that Novalis's fiancee was called Sophie, just like you, and that she died when she was only fifteen years and four days old ..."
"You're scaring me, don't you know that?"
Alberto sat staring, stony faced. Then he said: "But you needn't be worriedthat you will meet the same fate as Novalis's fiancee."
"Why not?"
"Because there are several more chapters."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that anyone reading the story of Sophie and Alberto will know intuitively that there are many pages of the story still to come. We have only gotten as far as Romanticism."
"You're making me dizzy."
"It's really the major trying to make Hilde dizzy. It's not very nice or him, is it? New section!"
* * *
Alberto had hardly finished speaking when a boy came running out of the woods. He had a turban on his head, and he was carrying an oil lamp.
Sophie grabbed Alberto's arm.
"Who's that?" she asked.
The boy answered for himself: "My name is Aladdin and I've come all the way from Lebanon."
Alberto looked at him sternly:
"And what do you have in your lamp?"
The boy rubbed the lamp, and out of it rose a thick cloud which formed itself into the figure of a man. He had a black beard like Alberto's and a blue beret. Floating above the lamp, he said: "Can you hear me, Hilde? I suppose it's too late for any more birthday greetings. I just wanted to say that Bjerkely and the south country back home seem like fairyland to me here in Lebanon. I'll see you there in a few days."
So saying, the figure became a cloud again and was sucked back into the lamp. The boy with the turban put the lamp under his arm, ran into the woods, and was gone.
"I don't believe this," said Sophie.
"A bagatelle, my dear."
"The spirit of the lamp spoke exactly like Hilde's father."
"That's because it was Hilde's father--in spirit."
"But. . ."
"Both you and I and everything around us are living deep in the major's mind. It is late at night on Saturday, April 28, and all the UN soldiers are asleep around the major, who, although still awake, is not far from sleep himself. But he must finish the book he is to give Hilde as a fifteenth birthday present. That's why he has to work, Sophie, that's why the poor man gets hardly any rest."
"I give up."
"New section!"
Sophie and Alberto sat looking across the little lake. Alberto seemed to be in some sort of trance. After a while Sophie ventured to nudge his shoulder.
"Were you dreaming?"
"Yes, he was interfering directly there. The last few paragraphs were dictated by him to the letter. He should be ashamed of himself. But now he has given himself away and come out into the open. Now we know that we are living our lives in a book which Hilde's father will send home to Hilde as a birthday present. You heard what I said? Well, it wasn't 'me' saying it."
"If what you say is true, I'm going to run away from the book and go my own way."
"That's exactly what I am planning. But before that can happen, we must try and talk with Hilde. She reads every word we say. Once we succeed in getting away from here it will be much harder to contact her. That means we must grasp the opportunity now."
"What do we say?"
"I think the major is just about to fall asleep over his typewriter--although his fingers are still racing feverishly over the keys ..."
"It's a creepy thought."
"This is the moment when he may write something he will regret later. And he has no correction fluid. That's a vital part of my plan. May no one give the major a bottle of correction fluid!"
"He won't get so much as a single coverup strip from me!"
"I'm calling on that poor girl here and now to rebel against her own father. She should be ashamed to let herself be amused by his self-indulgent playing with shad-ows. If only we had him here, we'd give him a taste of our indignation!"
"But he's not here."
"He is here in spirit and soul, but he's also safely tucked away in Lebanon. Everything around us is the major's ego."
"But he is more than what we can see here."
"We are but shadows in the major's soul. And it is no easy matter for a shadow to turn on its master, Sophie. It requires both cunning and strategy. But we have an opportunity of influencing Hilde. Only an angel can rebel against God."
"We could ask Hilde to give him a piece of her mind the moment he gets home. She could tell him he's a rogue. She could wreck his boat--or at least, smash the lantern."
Alberto nodded. Then he said: "She could also run away from him That would be much easier for her than it is for us. She could leave the major's house and never return. Wouldn't that be fitting for a major who plays with his 'universe-creating imagination' at our expense?"
"I can picture it. The major travels all over the world searching for Hilde. But Hilde has vanished into thin air because she can't stand living with a father who plays the fool at Alberto's and Sophie's expense."
"Yes, that's it! Plays the fool! That's what I meant by his using us as birthday amusement. But he'd better watch out, Sophie. So had Hilde!"
"How do you mean?"
"Are you sitting tight?"
"As long as there are no more genies from a lamp."
"Try to imagine that everything that happens to us goes on in someone else's mind. We are that mind. That means we have no soul, we are someone else's soul. So far we are on familiar philosophical ground. Both Berkeley and Schelling would prick up their ears."
"And?"
"Now it is possible that this soul is Hilde M0ller Knag's father. He is over there in Lebanon writing a book on philosophy for his daughter's fifteenth birthday. When Hilde wakes up on June 15, she finds the book on her bedside table, and now she--and anyone else--can read about us. It has long been suggested that this 'present' could be shared with others."
"Yes, I remember."
"What I am saying to you now will be read by Hilde after her father in Lebanon once imagined that I was telling you he was in Lebanon ... imagining me telling you that he was in Lebanon."
Sophie's head was swimming. She tried to remember what she had heard about Berkeley and the Romantics. Alberto Knox continued: "But they shouldn't feel so cocky because of that. They are the last people who should laugh, because laughter can easily get stuck in their throat."
"Who are we talking about?"
"Hilde and her father. Weren't we talking about them?"
"But why shouldn't they feel so cocky?"
"Because it is feasible that they, too, are nothing but mind."
"How could they be?"
"If it was possible for Berkeley and the Romantics, it must be possible for them. Maybe the major is also a shadow in a book about him and Hilde, which is also about us, since we are a part of their lives."
"That would be even worse. That makes us only shadows of shadows."
"But it is possible that a completely different author is somewhere writing a book about a UN Major Albert Knag, who is writing a book for his daughter Hilde. This book is about a certain Alberto Knox who suddenly begins to send humble philosophical lectures to Sophie Amundsen, 3 Clover Close."
"Do you believe that?"
"I'm just saying it's possible. To us, that author would be a 'hidden God.' Although everything we are and everything we say and do proceeds from him, because we are him we will never be able to know anything about him. We are in the innermost box."
Alberto and Sophie now sat for a long time without saying anything. It was Sophie who finally broke the silence: "But if there really is an author who is writing a story about Hilde's father in Lebanon, just like he is writing a story about us . . ."
"Yes?"
"... then it's possible that author shouldn't be cocky either."
"What do you mean?"
"He is sitting somewhere, hiding both Hilde and me deep inside his head. Isn't it just possible that he, too, is part of a higher mind?"
Atberto nodded.
"Of course it is, Sophie. That's also a possibility. And if that is the way it is, it means he has permitted us to have this philosophical conversation in order to present this possibility. He wishes to emphasize that he, too, is a helpless shadow, and that this book, in which Hilde and Sophie appear, is in reality a textbook on philosophy."
"A textbook?"
"Because all our conversations, all our dialogues ..."
"Yes?"
"... are in reality one long monologue."
"I get the feeling that everything is dissolving into mind and spirit. I'm glad there are still a few philosophers left. The philosophy that began so proudly with Thales, Em-pedocles, and Democritus can't be stranded here, surely?"
"Of course not. I still have to tell you about Hegel. He was the first philosopher who tried to salvage philosophy when the Romantics had dissolved everything into spirit."
"I'm very curious."
"So as not to be interrupted by any further spirits or shadows, we shall go inside."
"It's getting chilly out here anyway."
"Next chapter!"
浪漫主义
……神秘之路通向内心……
席德任由那本沉重的讲义夹滑入怀中，并继而滑落到地板上。
现在的天色已经比她刚上床时明亮。她看看时钟，已经快三点了。她钻进被窝，闭上眼睛。她入睡时心里仍在好奇为何爸爸会开始将小红帽和波波熊写进书中……第二天早上她睡到十一点。醒来时全身肌肉都绷得紧紧的，于是她知道自己昨晚又做了许多梦，可是她已经不记得自己梦见什么了，感觉上就好像她活在一个完全不同的世界似的。
她下楼准备早餐。妈妈已经把她那套蓝色的工人装拿出来了，预备到船屋那儿去修理汽艇。虽然它一直都没有下水，在爸爸从黎巴嫩回来前还是得把它整理得比较像样些。
“你想不想来帮我的忙?”
“我得先读一点书。你要不要我带一杯茶和一些点心去呢?”
“都快中午了还用吃点心吗?”
席德吃完早餐就回到房里。她把床铺整理了一下，然后舒服地坐在上面，膝上放着那本讲义夹。
哲学宴会
苏菲钻过树篱，站在花园里。这座大花园曾经是她心目中属于她的伊甸园……园里到处散布着昨天晚上被暴风雨吹落的枝叶。她觉得那场暴风雨和落叶和她遇见小红帽与波波熊这件事似乎有某种关联。
苏菲信步走到秋千那儿，挥落上面的松针与松枝。还好秋千上的坐垫是塑胶的，所以下雨时也不需要把它们收进屋里去。
苏菲走进屋里。妈妈已经回到家了，正把几瓶汽水放进冰箱里。餐桌上放着一块花结状的乳酪饼和一小堆杏仁圈圈饼。
“我们家有客人要来吗?”苏菲问。她几乎已经忘记今天是她的生日了。
“我们要到星期六才请客，不过我想我们今天也应该稍微庆祝一下。”
“怎么庆祝呢?”
“我请了乔安和她的爸妈。”
苏菲耸耸肩。
“好啊！”
快到七点半时，客人就到了。气氛满拘谨的，因为苏菲的妈妈很少和乔安的爸妈往来。
不久苏菲与乔安就到楼上苏菲的房间去写花园宴会的邀请函。由于艾伯特也在应邀之列，因此苏菲兴起了举办一个“哲学花园宴会”的念头，乔安也没有反对，毕竟这是苏菲的宴会。于是她们便决定举办一个有主题的宴会。
她们花了两个小时才拟好邀请函。两个女孩都笑弯了腰。
亲爱的……敬邀您在六月二十三日仲夏节当天晚上七点，前来苜蓿巷三号参加哲学性的花园宴会，以期解开生命之谜。请携带保暖的毛衣与适于解开哲学之谜的高明土意。为免引发森林火灾，我们很遗憾后时将无法升起营火，不过欢迎大家尽情燃亮想象力的火焰。应邀贵宾中将至少有一位是真正的哲学家。因此之故，此一宴会将不对外开放。新闻界人士也恕不招待。
顺颂时祺筹备委员乔安宴会主人苏菲写完后，她们便下楼去见爸妈。此时他们正在聊天，气氛已经比较轻松自然了。苏菲将她用钢笔写的邀请函文稿交给妈妈。
“请帮我复印十八份。”这已经不是苏菲第一次请妈妈利用上班时间帮她影印东西了。
妈妈看过邀请函后，便将它递给乔安的爸爸。
“你看我说得没错吧?她已经晕头转向了。”
“不过看起来还满吸引人的。”乔安的爸爸说，一边把那张文稿递给他太太。“如果可以的话，我也想参加呢i”
乔安的妈妈芭比看了邀请函后说道：“嗯，真不错。苏菲，我们也可以参加吗?”
苏菲信以为真，便说：“妈，那你就帮我印二十份吧。”
“你疯了不成!”乔安说。
当天晚上苏菲上床前，在窗前站了许久，看着窗外的景色。她还记得有一次曾经在黑暗中看到艾伯特的身影。这已经是一个多月前的事了。现在又是深夜时分，只不过由于已是夏日，天色仍然明亮。
直到星期二上午，艾伯特才和她联络。苏菲的妈妈刚出门上班，他就打电话来了。
“喂，我是苏菲。”
“我是艾伯特。”
“我猜到了。”
“很抱歉我没有早一点打电话来，因为我一直忙着拟定我们的计划。这段时间少校把全副注意力都放在你的身上，所以我才能够单独做一些事，不受干扰。”
“这事实在很诡异。”
“然后我就抓住这个机会躲了起来，你明白吗?就算是全世界最好的监视网络，如果只由一个人控制的话，也会有它的缺点……我收到你的卡片了。”
“你是说邀请函吗?”
“你敢冒这个险吗?”
“为什么不敢?”
“像那样的宴会，什么事都可能发生。”
“你来不来呢?”
“当然来啦。可是有一件事：你还记得那天席德的爸爸会从黎巴嫩回来吗?”
“老实说，我忘记了。”
“他让你在他回到柏客来那一天举行哲学性的花园宴会，一定不可能是什么巧合。”
“我没想到这个耶!”
“我敢说他一定想到了。不过没有关系，我们以后再谈这件事好了。你今天上午能到少校的小木屋来吗?”
“我今天要修剪花坛的草。”
“那就下午两点好了。你能来吗?”
“可以。”
苏菲到达小木屋时，艾伯特已经坐在门前的台阶上了。
“到这里来坐！”他说，然后就马上开始上课了。
浪漫主义“我们已经讲过了文艺复兴运动、巴洛克时期与启蒙运动。今天我们要谈浪漫主义。这可以说是欧洲最后一个伟大的文化纪元。
到这里，我们就接近尾声了。”
“浪漫主义时期有这么久吗?”
“它从十八世纪末开始，一直持续到十九世纪中期。到了一八五O年以后就不再有一个涵盖诗、哲学、艺术、科学与音乐的‘纪元’了。”
“浪漫主义时期就是这些纪元当中的一个吗?”
“有人说浪漫主义是欧洲人士最后一次对生命的‘共同进路’。
这个运动从德国开始，最初是为了反对启蒙时期的哲学家过于强调理性的做法。在康德和他那冷静的知性主义成为过去式后，德国的青年仿佛松了一口气，如释重负。”
“那他们用什么东西来取代康德的哲学呢?”
“当时的新口号是‘感情’、‘想象’、‘经验’和‘渴望’。过去部分启蒙时期的哲学家，包括卢梭在内，也曾经提到感情的重要性。到了浪漫主义时期，人们开始批评过于偏重理性的做法。以往隐而不显的浪漫主义如今成为德国文化的主流。”
“这么说康德对人们的影响力并没有持续很久哼?”
“可以说是，也可以说不是。许多浪漫主义者自认是康德的传人，因为康德已经确认我们对于‘物自身’所知有限，同时他也强调自我的作用对于知识(或认知)的重要性。在这种情况下，个人可以完全随心所欲的以自己的方式来诠释生命。浪漫主义者便利用这点发展出几乎毫无限制的‘自我崇拜’，并且因此而歌颂艺术方面的天才。”
“那时候有很多这样的天才吗?”
“贝多芬就是其中之一。他用音乐来表达自我的情感与渴望，比起巴哈和韩德尔这些多半以严格的音乐形式创作乐曲，以歌颂上帝的巴洛克时期大音乐家，贝多芬可以说是一个‘自由的’艺术家。”
“我只听过月光奏鸣曲和第五号交响曲。”
“那你应该可以听得出月光奏鸣曲是多么浪漫，而贝多芬在第五号交响乐中又是如何生动地表现自己。”
“你说过文艺复兴时期的人文主义者也是个人主义者。”
“是的。文艺复兴时期与浪漫主义时期有许多相似的地方，其中最典型的就是两者都强调艺术对人类认知的重要性。在这方面康德有很大的贡献，他在他的美学理论中研究了当我们受到美(例如一幅艺术作品)的感动时会发生什么情况。他认为，当我们忘记自我，忘记一切，完全沉浸于艺术作品的时候，我们就比较能够体验到‘物自身’。”
“这么说艺术家可以提供一些哲学家无法表达的东西哼?’：“这正是浪漫主义者的看法。根据康德的说法，艺术家可以随心所欲地运用他的认知能力。德国诗人席勒(Shller)更进一步发挥康德的想法。他说，艺术家的创作活动就像玩游戏一般，而人唯有在玩游戏的时候才是自由的，因为那时他可以自己订定游戏规则。浪漫主义者相信，唯有艺术才能使我们更接近那‘无以言喻’的经验。有人甚至将艺术家比做上帝。”
“因为艺术家创造自己的世界，就像上帝创造这个世界一般。”
“有人说艺术家有一种‘创造宇宙的想象力’。当他内心充满艺术的狂喜时，他可以跨越梦境与现实的藩篱。年轻的艺术天才诺瓦里思(Novalis)曾经说过：‘人世变成了一场梦，而梦境成为现实。’他写了一部名为海因利希•冯•欧夫特丁根(Heinrich von Ohter—dingen)的中世纪小说。此书虽然在他一八O一年去世时仍未完成，但仍是一本非常重要的小说。书中叙述年轻的海因利希一心一意找寻他曾经在梦中见到、渴望已久的‘蓝色花朵’。除此之外，英国的浪漫主义诗人柯立芝(Co1eridge)也曾表达同样的意念：‘万一你睡着了呢?万一你在睡眠时做梦了呢?万一你在梦中到了天堂，在那儿采下了一朵奇异而美丽的花?万一你醒来时，花儿正在手中?啊，那时你要如何呢?’”
“好美啊!”
“这种渴望遥不可及的事物的心态正是浪漫主义者的特色。他们也可能会怀念一个已经逝去的年代，例如中世纪。历经启蒙时期对中世纪的贬谪后，浪漫主义者开始热烈重估中世纪的价值。此外，他们对神秘的东方等遥远的文化也怀有一分憧憬。有些浪漫主义者则受到夜晚、黄昏、古老的废墟与超自然事物的吸引。他们满脑子都是我们通常所说的人生的‘黑暗面’，也就是一些阴暗、神秘、不可思议的事物。”
“听起来像是一个满刺激的时代。那些浪漫主义者都是些什么人呢?”
“浪漫主义主要兴盛于都市地区。十九世纪的前半在德国等许多欧洲地区，都可见到兴盛蓬勃的都市文化。最典型的浪漫主义者都是年轻人，通常是一些并不一定很认真读书的大学生。他们有一种明显的反中产阶级的生活态度，有时会称警察或他们的房东为‘庸俗市侩’，或甚至称他们是‘敌人’。”
“要是我的话，可不敢租房子给浪漫主义者!”
“一八OO年左右的第一代浪漫主义者都是年轻人。事实上我们可以称浪漫主义运动为欧洲的第一个学生运动。那些浪漫主义者有点像是一百五十年后的嬉皮。”
“你是说那些留长发、漫不经心地弹吉他并且随地躺来躺去的人?”
“对。曾有人说：‘闲散是天才的理想，懒惰是浪漫主义者的美德。’浪漫主义者的职责就是体验生活——或是成天做白日梦、浪费生命。至于日常的事务留给那些俗人做就行了。”
“拜伦是浪漫主义时期的诗人，不是吗?”
“是的。拜伦和雪莱都是所谓的‘恶魔派’的浪漫主义诗人。拜伦更成为浪漫主义时期的偶像。所谓的‘拜伦式的英雄’就是指那些无论在生活上还是艺术上都特立独行、多愁善感、叛逆成性的人。拜伦本人可能就是一个既任性又热情的人，再加上他外貌英俊、因此受到了许多时髦妇女包围。一般人认为，拜伦那些充满了浪漫奇遇的诗其实就是反映他个人的生活。然而，他虽然有过许多韵事绯闻，但对于他而言，真爱却像诺瓦里思梦中的蓝色花朵一般不可捉摸、遥不可及。诺瓦里思曾和一名十四岁的少女订婚，但她却在满十五岁生日的四天之后去世。可是诺瓦里思对她的爱却是一生不渝。”
