生命不能承受之轻-第47部分

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strict　with　the　heifers；　barking　at　them；　asserting　his　authority。　（His　God　had　given　him　dominion　over　cows；　and　he　was　proud　of　it。）　Today；　however；　he　was　having　great　trouble　making　his　way；　and　hobbled　along　on　three　legs；　the　fourth　had　a　wound　on　it；　and　the　wound　was　festering。　Tereza　kept　bending　down　and　stroking　his　back。　Two　weeks　after　the　operation；　it　became　clear　that　the　cancer　had　continued　to　spread　and　that　Karenin　would　fare　worse　and　worse。
Along　the　way；　they　met　a　neighbor　who　was　hurrying　off　to　a　cow　shed　in　her　rubber　boots。　The　woman　stopped　long　enough　to　ask；　What's　wrong　with　the　dog？　It　seems　to　be　limping。　He　has　cancer；　said　Tereza。　There's　no　hope。　And　the　lump　in　her　throat　kept　her　from　going　on。　The　woman　noticed　Tereza's　tears　and　nearly　lost　her　temper：　Good　heavens！　Don't　tell　me　you're　going　to　bawl　your　head　off　over　a　dog！　She　was　not　being　vicious；　she　was　a　kind　woman　and　merely　wanted　to　comfort　Tereza。　Tereza　understood；　and　had　spent　enough　time　in　the　country　to　realize　that　if　the　local　inhabitants　loved　every　rabbit　as　she　loved　Karenin；　they　would　be　unable　to　kill　any　of　them　and　they　and　their　animals　would　soon　starve　to　death。　Still；　the　woman's　words　struck　her　as　less　than　friendly。　I　understand；　she　answered　without　protest；　but　quickly　turned　her　back　and　went　her　way。　The　love　she　bore　her　dog　made　her　feel　cut　off；　isolated。　With　a　sad　smile；　she　told　herself　that　she　needed　to　hide　it　more　than　she　would　an　affair。　People　are　indignant　at　the　thought　of　someone　loving　a　dog。　But　if　the　neighbor　had　discovered　that　Tereza　had　been　unfaithful　to　Tomas；　she　would　have　given　Tereza　a　playful　pat　on　the　back　as　a　sign　of　secret　solidarity。
Be　that　as　it　may；　Tereza　continued　on　her　path；　and；　watching　her　heifers　rub　against　one　another；　she　thought　what　nice　animals　they　were。　Calm；　guileless；　and　sometimes　childishly　animated；　they　looked　like　fat　fifty…year…olds　pretending　they　were　fourteen。　There　was　nothing　more　touching　than　cows　at　play。　Tereza　took　pleasure　in　their　antics　and　could　not　help　thinking　（it　is　an　idea　that　kept　coming　back　to　her　during　her　two　years　in　the　country）　that　man　is　as　much　a　parasite　on　the　cow　as　the　tapeworm　is　on　man：　We　have　sucked　their　udders　like　leeches。　Man　the　cow　parasite　is　probably　how　non…man　defines　man　in　his　zoology　books。
Now；　we　may　treat　this　definition　as　a　joke　and　dismiss　it　with　a　condescending　laugh。　But　since　Tereza　took　it　seriously；　she　found　herself　in　a　precarious　position：　her　ideas　were　dangerous　and　distanced　her　from　the　rest　of　mankind。　Even　though　Genesis　says　that　God　gave　man　dominion　over　all　animals；　we　can　also　construe　it　to　mean　that　He　merely　entrusted　them　to　man's　care。　Man　was　not　the　planet's　master；　merely　its　administrator；　and　therefore　eventually　responsible　for　his　administration。　Descartes　took　a　decisive　step　forward：　he　made　man　maitre　et　proprietaire　de　la　nature。　And　surely　there　is　a　deep　connection　between　that　step　and　the　fact　that　he　was　also　the　one　who　point…blank　denied　animals　a　soul。　Man　is　master　and　proprietor；　says　Descartes；　whereas　the　beast　is　merely　an　automaton；　an　animated　machine；　a　machina　animata。　When　an　animal　laments；　it　is　not　a　lament；　it　is　merely　the　rasp　of　a　poorly　functioning　mechanism。　When　a　wagon　wheel　grates；　the　wagon　is　not　in　pain；　it　simply　needs　oiling。　Thus；　we　have　no　reason　to　grieve　for　a　dog　being　carved　up　alive　in　the　laboratory。
While　the　heifers　grazed；　Tereza　sat　on　a　stump　with　Karenin　at　her　side；　his　head　resting　in　her　lap。　She　recalled　reading　a　two…line　filler　in　the　papers　ten　or　so　years　ago　about　how　all　the　dogs　in　a　certain　Russian　city　had　been　summarily　shot。　It　was　that　inconspicuous　and　seemingly　insignificant　little　article　that　had　brought　home　to　her　for　the　first　time　the　sheer　horror　of　her　country's　oversized　neighbor。
That　little　article　was　a　premonition　of　things　to　come。　The　first　years　following　the　Russian　invasion　could　not　yet　be　characterized　as　a　reign　of　terror。　Because　practically　no　one　in　the　entire　nation　agreed　with　the　occupation　regime；　the　Russians　had　to　ferret　out　the　few　exceptions　and　push　them　into　power。　But　where　could　they　look？　All　faith　in　Communism　and　love　for　Russia　was　dead。　So　they　sought　people　who　wished　to　get　back　at　life　for　something；　people　with　revenge　on　the　brain。　Then　they　had　to　focus；　cultivate；　and　maintain　those　people's　aggressiveness；　give　them　a　temporary　substitute　to　practice　on。
The　substitute　they　lit　upon　was　animals。
All　at　once　the　papers　started　coming　out　with　cycles　of　features　and　organized　letters…to…the…editor　campaigns　demanding；　for　example；　the　extermination　of　all　pigeons　within　city　limits。　And　the　pigeons　would　be　exterminated。　But　the　major　drive　was　directed　against　dogs。　People　were　still　disconsolate　over　the　catastrophe　of　the　occupation；　but　radio；　television；　and　the　press　went　on　and　on　about　dogs：　how　they　soil　our　streets　and　parks；　endanger　our　children's　health；　fulfill　no　useful　function；　yet　must　be　fed。　They　whipped　up　such　a　psychotic　fever　that　Tereza　had　been　afraid　that　the　crazed　mob　would　do　harm　to　Karenin。　Only　after　a　year　did　the　accumulated　malice　（which　until　then　had　been　vented；　for　the　sake　of　training；　on　animals）　find　its　true　goal：　people。　People　started　being　removed　from　their　jobs；　arrested；　put　on　trial。　At　last　the　animals　could　breathe　freely。
Tereza　kept　stroking　Karenin's　head；　which　was　quietly　resting　in　her　lap；　while　something　like　the　following　ran　through　her　mind：　There's　no　particular　merit　in　being　nice　to　one's　fellow　man。　She　had　to　treat　the　other　villagers　decently；　because　otherwise　she　couldn't　live　there。　Even　with　Tomas；　she　was　obliged　to　behave　lovingly　because　she　needed　him。　We　can　never　establish　with　certainty　what　part　of　our　relations　with　others　is　the　result　of　our　emotions—love；　antipathy；　charity；　or　malice—and　what　part　is　predetermined　by　the　constant　power　play　among　individuals。
True　human　goodness；　in　all　its　purity　and　freedom；　can　come　to　the　fore　only　when　its　recipient　has　no　power。　Mankind's　true　moral　test；　its　fundamental　test　（which　lies　deeply　buried　from　view）；　consists　of　its　attitude　towards　those　who　are　at　its　mercy：　animals。　And　in　this　respect　mankind　has　suffered　a　fundamental　debacle；　a　debacle　so　fundamental　that　all　others　stem　from　it。
One　of　the　heifers　had　made　friends　with　Tereza。　The　heifer　would　stop　and　stare　at　her　with　her　big　brown　eyes。　Tereza　knew　her。　She　called　her　Marketa。　She　would　have　been　happy　to　give　all　her　heifers　names；　but　she　was　unable　to。　There　were　too　many　of　them。　Not　so　long　before；　forty　years　or　so；　all　the　cows　in　the　village　had　names。　（And　if　having　a　name　is　a　sign　of　having　a　soul；　I　can　say　that　they　had　souls　despite　Descartes。）　But　then　the　villages　were　turned　into　a　large　collective　factory；　and　the　cows　began　spending　all　their　lives　in　the　five　square　feet　set　aside　for　them　in　their　cow　sheds。　From　that　time　on；　they　have　had　no　names　and　become　mere　machinae　animatae。　The　world　has　proved　Descartes　correct。
Tereza　keeps　appearing　before　my　eyes。　I　see　her　sitting　on　the　stump　petting　Karenin's　head　and　ruminating　on　mankind's　debacles。　Another　image　also　comes　to　mind：　Nietzsche　leaving　his　hotel　in　Turin。　Seeing　a　horse　and　a　coachman　beating　it　with　a　whip；　Nietzsche　went　up　to　the　horse　and；　before　the　coachman's　very　eyes；　put　his　arms　around　the　horse's　neck　and　burst　into　tears。
That　took　place　in　1889；　when　Nietzsche；　too；　had　removed　himself　from　the　world　of　people。　In　other　words；　it　was　at　the　time　when　his　mental　illness　had　just　erupted。　But　for　that　very　reason　I　feel　his　gesture　has　broad　implications：
Nietzsche　was　trying　to　apologize　to　the　horse　for　Descartes。　His　lunacy　（that　is；　his　final　break　with　mankind）　began　at　the　very　moment　he　burst　into　tears　over　the　horse。
And　that　is　the　Nietzsche　I　love；　just　as　I　love　Tereza　with　the　mortally　ill　dog　resting　his　head　in　her　lap。　I　see　them　one　next　to　the　other：　both　stepping　down　from　the　road　along　which　mankind；　the　master　and　proprietor　of　nature；　marches　onward。

3
Karenin　gave　birth　to　two　rolls　and　a　bee。　He　stared；　amazed；　at　his　own　progeny。　The　rolls　were　utterly　serene；　but　the　bee　staggered　about　as　if　drugged；　then　flew　up　and　away。
Or　so　it　happened　in　Tereza's　dream。　She　told　it　to　Tomas　the　minute　he　woke　up；　and　they　both　found　a　certain　consolation　in　it。　It　transformed　Karenin's　illness　into　a　pregnancy　and　the　drama　of　giving　birth　into　something　both　laughable　and　touching：　two　rolls　and　a　bee。
She　again　fell　prey　to　illogical　hopes。　She　got　out　of　bed　and　put　on　her　clothes。　Here；　too；　her　day　began　with　a　trip　to　the　shop　for　milk；　bread；　rolls。　But　when　she　called　Karenin　for　his　walk　that　morning；　he　barely　raised　his　head。　It　was　the　first　time　that　he　had　refused　to　take　part　in　the　ritual　he　himself　had　forced　upon　them。
She　went　off　without　him。　Where's　Karenin？　asked　the　woman　behind　the　counter；　who　had　Karenin's　roll　ready　as　usual。　Tereza　carried　it　home　herself　in　her　bag；　She　pulled　it　out　and　showed　it　to　him　while　still　in　the　doorway。　She　wanted　him　to　come　and　fetch　it。　But　he　jus