| Chapter II When so much has been written about Charles Strickland, it may seem unnecessary that I should write more. A painter's monument is his work. It is true I knew him more intimately than most: I met him first before ever he became a painter, and I saw him not infrequently during the difficult years he spent in Paris; but I do not suppose I should ever have set down my recollections if the hazards of the war had not taken me to Tahiti. There, as is notorious, he spent the last years of his life; and there I came across persons who were familiar with him. I find myself in a position to throw light on just that part of his tragic career which has remained most obscure. If they who believe in Strickland's greatness are right, the personal narratives of such as knew him in the flesh can hardly be superfluous. What would we not give for the reminiscences of someone who had been as intimately acquainted with El Greco as I was with Strickland? | 第二章 有關司查爾的文章，人們已經寫了許多，看來似乎我沒必要再費筆墨。畫家的豐碑就是他的作品。說句實在話，和絕大多數人相比，我和司查爾之間的關係更為密切：我和他初次見麵時，他根本就不是什麽畫家。他在巴黎那些艱難苦恨的年月裏，我和他見麵次數並不算少。但要不是戰火動亂的原因把我帶到太平洋上大溪地島的話，我絕不會追憶往事，並將這些往事付諸筆端。世人皆知，他正是在那裏度過了自己的殘生餘年，此段經曆並不怎麽光彩；我在那裏碰到過他的一些熟人。他職業生涯多舛，一直鮮為人知，我發現要想闡明他的這些事情，我算是比較合適的人選。如果相信司查爾偉大的人看法正確，由見過他並了解他的人來講述他的生平，便很難再說是多此一舉了。如果某人與葛埃爾關係密切，就像我同司查爾的關係一樣密切，為了能讀到此人寫的葛埃爾回憶錄，我們還有什麽不願意付出呢？ |
| But I seek refuge in no such excuses. I forget who it was that recommended men for their soul's good to do each day two things they disliked: it was a wise man, and it is a precept that I have followed scrupulously; for every day I have got up and I have gone to bed. But there is in my nature a strain of asceticism, and I have subjected my flesh each week to a more severe mortification. I have never failed to read the Literary Supplement of The Times. It is a salutary discipline to consider the vast number of books that are written, the fair hopes with which their authors see them published, and the fate which awaits them. What chance is there that any book will make its way among that multitude? And the successful books are but the successes of a season. Heaven knows what pains the author has been at, what bitter experiences he has endured and what heartache suffered, to give some chance reader a few hours' relaxation or to while away the tedium of a journey. And if I may judge from the reviews, many of these books are well and carefully written; much thought has gone to their composition; to some even has been given the anxious labour of a lifetime. The moral I draw is that the writer should seek his reward in the pleasure of his work and in release from the burden of his thought; and, indifferent to aught else, care nothing for praise or censure, failure or success. | 但是我絕對無意求助於這些托辭來為自己辯護。我記不得是誰曾建議過，一個人為了使自己的靈魂得到安慰，每天得要做兩件他並不喜歡的事情：說這話的人是位智者，我一直謹小慎微地遵守著這條金科玉律；因為我每天黎明即起，人定就寢。但是我生來就有苦行主義的性格，一直保持讓我的肉身每周都經受一次更劇烈的磨煉。對於《泰晤士報》的文學副刊，我從來都是一期不落地讀完。作家想著自己所寫的書籍，卷帙浩繁，眼看著付之梨棗，滿懷殷切希望，等待著這些書籍的最後命運，這真是一場有益於身心健康的修煉。一本書想要在這浩如煙海的各種書籍中走紅，成功概率會有多少？即使獲得了成功，成功頂多也就維持一個季度。天曉得作者為了自己的一本書經受了何種痛苦、忍受了何種折磨、遭受了何種辛酸，隻是為了讓偶然翻到這本書的讀者消遣一晌，或者幫助讀者打發旅途中的無聊時間。我看了書評來做評判的話，我會說很多書是作者深思熟慮、認真書寫出來的結果，作者在構思方麵頗下了一番心思，有些甚至是終生埋頭伏案、奮筆疾書的勞動成果。我從這件事中所吸取到的教訓就是，作家獲取的回報應該來自寫作的快樂，以及思想包袱的解脫；對於其他任何一切事情，他都應該泰然處之，作品成功還是失敗，受人稱讚還是遭人斥責，他都應該毫不在乎。 |
| Now the war has come, bringing with it a new attitude. Youth has turned to gods we of an earlier day knew not, and it is possible to see already the direction in which those who come after us will move. The younger generation, conscious of strength and tumultuous, have done with knocking at the door; they have burst in and seated themselves in our seats. The air is noisy with their shouts. Of their elders some, by imitating the antics of youth, strive to persuade themselves that their day is not yet over; they shout with the lustiest, but the war cry sounds hollow in their mouth; they are like poor wantons attempting with pencil, paint and powder, with shrill gaiety, to recover the illusion of their spring. The wiser go their way with a decent grace. In their chastened smile is an indulgent mockery. They remember that they too trod down a sated generation, with just such clamor and with just such scorn, and they foresee that these brave torch-bearers will presently yield their place also. There is no last word. The new evangel was old when Nineveh reared her greatness to the sky. These gallant words which seem so novel to those that speak them were said in accents scarcely changed a hundred times before. The pendulum swings backwards and forwards. The circle is ever travelled anew. | 如今戰火已經燃起，社會上也出現了一種新的生活態度。年輕人供奉各路神靈，作為他們的長輩，我們過去對此並不甚了解，而我們已經可以看得出這些晚輩將來的走向了。年輕一代意識到自己精力旺盛，喧鬧不已，進入他人房間之前早就免了敲門之禮。他們直接闖入房間，端坐在本該屬於我們的位置之上，空氣中彌漫著他們的大呼小叫，甚囂塵上。某些長輩模仿年輕人的古怪滑稽動作，硬要相信自己氣數未盡；他們跟著精力最充沛的年輕人一起叫喊，但他們嘴裏發出的聲音隻不過空洞的作戰口號而已；他們如同一群楚楚可憐的青樓女子，試圖通過描眉畫眼、塗脂抹粉、嘰嘰喳喳、輕浮浪蕩，以便重現自己花樣年華的幻象。聰明一點的長輩則擺出一副體麵端莊的姿態。他們忍俊不禁的微笑中帶有一種寬容的蔑視之態。他們記起了自己也是把令人生厭的長輩踩在腳下，也是這樣喧鬧不止，這樣不屑一顧；他們預見到這些高舉火把的勇士在不久的將來也要讓出自己的位置。在這個世上，誰也沒有最終發言權。當尼尼微城的偉大光芒直衝雲霄時，新福音書早已過時。前人曾經重複過上百次的豪言壯語，對於那些如今還在說著同樣言語的人們而言，好像聽起來新穎別致，然而就連他們說話的腔調幾乎都和前人沒什麽兩樣。時鍾的鍾擺晃來蕩去，時針轉過一圈之後，新的一圈又會重新開始。 |
| Sometimes a man survives a considerable time from an era in which he had his place into one which is strange to him, and then the curious are offered one of the most singular spectacles in the human comedy. Who now, for example, thinks of George Crabbe? He was a famous poet in his day, and the world recognised his genius with a unanimity which the greater complexity of modern life has rendered infrequent. He had learnt his craft at the school of Alexander Pope, and he wrote moral stories in rhymed couplets. Then came the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars, and the poets sang new songs. Mr. Crabbe continued to write moral stories in rhymed couplets. I think he must have read the verse of these young men who were making so great a stir in the world, and I fancy he found it poor stuff. Of course, much of it was. But the odes of Keats and of Wordsworth, a poem or two by Coleridge, a few more by Shelley, discovered vast realms of the spirit that none had explored before. Mr. Crabbe was as dead as mutton, but Mr. Crabbe continued to write moral stories in rhymed couplets. I have read desultorily the writings of the younger generation. It may be that among them a more fervid Keats, a more ethereal Shelley, has already published numbers the world will willingly remember. I cannot tell. I admire their polish—their youth is already so accomplished that it seems absurd to speak of promise—I marvel at the felicity of their style; but with all their copiousness (their vocabulary suggests that they fingered Roget's Thesaurus in their cradles) they say nothing to me: to my mind they know too much and feel too obviously; I cannot stomach the heartiness with which they slap me on the back or the emotion with which they hurl themselves on my bosom; their passion seems to me a little anaemic and their dreams a trifle dull. I do not like them. I am on the shelf. I will continue to write moral stories in rhymed couplets. But I should be thrice a fool if I did it for aught but my own entertainment. | 某人在某個時代曾經地位顯赫，有時候其陽壽遠超了那個時代，便進入了一個陌生時代，此時在獵奇好事者的麵前，便會呈現出人類喜劇中最為獨特的其中一幕景象。比如說，現在還有誰會想起柯昭芝？在他生活的那個年代，他曾經是位有名的詩人，全世界公認他的天賦才華，但由於現代生活的特點更為複雜，這種現象就不那麽頻繁發生了。他從亞曆山大●蒲柏派那裏學習作詩技巧，用合轍押韻的對偶句編寫道德詩。接著法國大革命和拿破侖戰爭先後爆發，詩人們吟唱起了新的詩歌。柯昭芝先生繼續用合轍押韻的對偶句編寫道德詩。我想他一定讀過這些晚輩的詩歌，他們將這個世界攪得天翻地覆，我可以想象柯昭芝一定會發現這些詩歌質量低劣，不忍卒讀。當然，多數新詩固然如此。但是濟慈和華茲華斯的頌詩、柯勒律治的一兩首詩歌、雪萊更多的幾首詩歌，卻發掘出了廣袤的精神王國，而在此之前人類從未探索過這些王國。柯昭芝的詩歌已經變得陳舊腐朽，但他仍繼續用合轍押韻的對偶句作道德詩。我零零星星讀過晚輩的詩作，其中或許有些人比濟慈更炙熱，有些人比雪萊更飄逸，這些人出版頗豐，而且世人心甘情願地記住這些詩作。對於這一點，我無法斷言。我佩服他們的文字洗練——他們這樣年輕就已經學有所成，如果再說他們前途無量，就顯得有些荒唐可笑了——我對他們措辭貼切的文筆表示讚歎折服；但對於他們所采用的豐富詞匯（從詞匯量可以看出，他們好像在搖籃中吃奶時就已經翻閱《羅氏詞匯寶典》了），對我而言等於什麽也沒說：在我看來，他們懂得太多，感受過於淺顯；他們拍打我的腰背與我套近乎的那股子親熱勁，或是將自己全身投入我的懷抱時的那種激動神情，我都吃不消；他們的激情對我而言似乎顯得毫無血色，他們的夢想顯得瑣碎無聊。我並不喜歡他們。我被他們束置高閣。我繼續用對偶句作道德詩。但是如果我寫作除了自娛自樂以外，還抱有其他任何非分之想的話，那我就是個傻得不能再傻的大傻瓜了。 |
