作者：[英] 乔治·吉辛（George Gissing）
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四季随笔(外研社双语读库)试读：
Preface序The name of Henry Ryecroft never became familiar to what is called the reading public. A year ago obituary paragraphs in the literary papers gave such account of him as was thought needful: the date and place of his birth, the names of certain books he had written, an allusion to his work in the periodicals, the manner of his death. At the time it sufficed. Even those few who knew the man, and in a measure understood him, must have felt that his name called for no further celebration; like other mortals, he had lived and laboured; like other mortals, he had entered into his rest. To me, however, fell the duty of examining Ryecroft's papers; and having, in the exercise of my discretion, decided to print this little volume, I feel that it requires a word or two of biographical complement, just so much personal detail as may point the significance of the self-revelation here made.
亨利·赖克罗夫特（HenryRyecroft）的名字不曾为所谓的读者大众熟知。一年前，文学报纸上登出一则讣告，对他的生平做了简要回顾，包括他的出生日期和地点，几部作品的书名，期刊中提及他作品的话，以及他死亡的情形。这在当时已经够了。即使是不多的几个认识并多少了解他的人，一定也觉得他的声名不需更多溢美之词；他和普通人一样，生活过，辛苦过；和普通人一样，他已经长眠地下。然而，整理赖克罗夫特遗稿的责任落在了我身上。在决定将这本小书付梓之时，为慎重起见，我觉得有必要补充一两句介绍作者的话，希望这些私人细节有助于彰显书中心灵独白的意义。
When first I knew him, Ryecroft had reached his fortieth year; for twenty years he had lived by the pen. He was a struggling man, beset by poverty and other circumstances very unpropitious to mental work. Many forms of literature had he tried; in none had he been conspicuously successful; yet now and then he had managed to earn a little more money than his actual needs demanded, and thus was enabled to see something of foreign countries. Naturally a man of independent and rather scornful outlook, he had suffered much from defeated ambition, from disillusions of many kinds, from subjection to grim necessity; the result of it, at the time of which I am speaking, was certainly not a broken spirit, but a mind and temper so sternly disciplined that in ordinary intercourse with him one did not know but that he led a calm, contented life. Only after several years of friendship was I able to form a just idea of what the man had gone through, or of his actual existence. Little by little Ryecroft had subdued himself to a modestly industrious routine. He did a great deal of mere hack-work; he reviewed, he translated, he wrote articles; at long intervals a volume appeared under his name. There were times, I have no doubt, when bitterness took hold upon him; not seldom he suffered in health, and probably as much from moral as from physical overstrain; but, on the whole, he earned his living very much as other men do, taking the day's toil as a matter of course and rarely grumbling over it.
初识赖克罗夫特时，他四十岁。其时，他卖文谋生已二十年。他生活艰难，常身陷贫困和与脑力工作很不适宜的恶劣境遇中。他尝试过许多文学形式的创作，但都没取得瞩目的成就；不过，他有时也能挣些裹腹蔽体之外的钱，可以到国外游历一番。这个生来崇尚独立、自视甚高的人吃足了苦头，他雄心受挫，幻想破灭，不得不向严酷的现实低头；然而—在我所说的那些日子—他并没有变得意志消沉，反而练就了一副严格自律的心志和性情，在日常交往中，我只知道他私下里过着平静满足的生活。和他相交几年后，我才对他的遭遇或实际的生活状态有了确切的了解。逐渐地，他养成了比较勤奋的工作习惯。他的作品很多都只是为卖文而作；他写评论，翻译，创作；隔很久，会出版一本署有他名字的书。他有些时候会痛苦愤懑，这一点我毫不怀疑；他还经常生病，比起操劳过度可能更多的是精神上遭受的折磨。但总体上说，他和常人一样谋生，将终日的辛苦劳累视为理所当然，很少为此抱怨。
Time went on; things happened; but Ryecroft was still laborious and poor. In moments of depression he spoke of his declining energies, and evidently suffered under a haunting fear of the future. The thought of dependence had always been intolerable to him; perhaps the only boast I at any time heard from his lips was that he had never incurred debt. It was a bitter thought that after so long and hard a struggle with unkindly circumstance he might end his life as one of the defeated.
时光流逝，世事变迁；而赖克罗夫特依然辛苦并贫穷着。心情抑郁时，他会谈起自己的精气神一日不如一日，心头显然萦绕着对未来的恐惧。依赖别人的想法一直是他不能容忍的；也许至今我从他嘴里听过的唯一自诩就是他不曾欠过债。他在困境中艰难挣扎了这么久，生命走到尽头也许只是一个失败者，这种想法让他郁闷。
A happier lot was in store for him. At the age of fifty, just when his health had begun to fall and his energies to show abatement, Ryecroft had the rare good fortune to find himself suddenly released from toil and to enter upon a period of such tranquility of mind and condition as he had never dared to hope. On the death of an acquaintance, more his friend than he imagined, the wayworn man of letters learned with astonishment that there was bequeathed to him a life annuity of three hundred pounds. Having only himself to support (he had been a widower for several years, and his daughter, an only child, was married), Ryecroft saw in this income something more than a competency. In a few weeks he quitted the London suburb where of late he had been living, and turning to the part of England which he loved best, he presently established himself in a cottage near Exeter, where, with a rustic housekeeper to look after him, he was soon thoroughly at home. Now and then some friend went down into Devon to see him; those who had that pleasure will not forget the plain little house amid its half-wild garden, the cosy book-room with its fine view across the valley of the Exe to Haldon, the host's cordial, gleeful hospitality, rambles with him in lanes and meadows, long talks amid the stillness of the rural night. We hoped it would all last for many a year; it seemed, indeed, as though Ryecroft had only need of rest and calm to become a hale man. But already, though he did not know it, he was suffering from a disease of the heart, which cut short his life after little more than a lustrum of quiet contentment. It had always been his wish to die suddenly; he dreaded the thought of illness, chiefly because of the trouble it gave to others. On a summer evening, after a long walk in very hot weather, he lay down upon the sofa in his study, and there—as his calm face declared—passed from slumber into the great silence.
他终于等来了命运的眷顾。50岁时，他的健康状况开始走下坡路，精力也在衰减，此时他却突然交了好运，不必再受劳碌之苦，而过上了一段宁静恬淡、衣食无忧的生活，这在之前他是做梦都不敢想的。一个相识去世时，遗赠给他每年300镑的终身年金，让这位潦倒的文人吃惊不已，这位相识比他想象中更够朋友。由于他孑然一身（他鳏居多年，膝下唯有一女，已嫁为人妇），他认为这笔钱足以让他过上舒适的生活，还绰绰有余。几周后，他离开了当时居住的伦敦郊区，来到他在英格兰最爱的一处地方，很快便在埃克塞特市附近找到一处房舍，雇了一个乡下管家照顾自己，不久就完全适应了那里的生活。不时会有朋友到德文郡去探望他；有幸去过的人不会忘记那所掩映在花园蔓生荒草下的朴素房舍，那间将埃克斯河谷到哈尔登山的美景尽收眼底的舒适书房，主人热情殷勤的招待，一同在小径和草地上的漫步，和乡间静谧夜晚下的长谈。我们希望这种生活可以继续很多年，当时赖克罗夫特确实看来只需休息和平静就能保持健康。然而，他不知道自己已罹患心脏病，在享受了五年多安足的生活后，便与世长辞了。他一直希望能突然死去，他惧怕疾病的主要原因是怕给别人添麻烦。一个夏天的傍晚，在炎热天气下长时间散步后，他躺在书房的沙发上，面容安详，在睡梦中陷入了永远的沉默。
When he left London, Ryecroft bade farewell to authorship. He told me that he hoped never to write another line for publication. But, among the papers which I looked through after his death, I came upon three manuscript books which at first glance seemed to be a diary; a date on the opening page of one of them showed that it had been begun not very long after the writer's settling in Devon. When I had read a little in these pages, I saw that they were no mere record of day-today life; evidently finding himself unable to forego altogether the use of the pen, the veteran had set down, as humour bade him, a thought, a reminiscence, a bit of reverie, a description of his state of mind, and so on, dating such passage merely with the month in which it was written. Sitting in the room where I had often been his companion, I turned page after page, and at moments it was as though my friend's voice sounded to me once more. I saw his worn visage, grave or smiling; recalled his familiar pose or gesture. But in this written gossip he revealed himself more intimately than in our conversation of the days gone by. Ryecroft had never erred by lack of reticence; as was natural in a sensitive man who had suffered much, he inclined to gentle acquiescence, shrank from argument, from self-assertion. Here he spoke to me without restraint, and when I had read it all through, I knew the man better than before.
离开伦敦后，他便告别了写作生涯。他曾跟我说过，不愿再写一行字来发表了。但是，他去世后，我在他的遗稿中发现了三本手稿，初看以为是日记。一本手稿扉页上的日期显示这是作者在德文郡定居不久后开始写的。我读了几页，发现它并不单是对日常生活的记录。显然这个老家伙不能彻底舍弃笔杆子，便随兴所至地记录下自己的随想、回忆、一点思考，还有对自己心态的描述，这些段落只是按照写作的月份来标记。坐在这间我经常陪伴他的屋子里，我一页一页地翻看这些手稿，有时似乎听见他的声音再次响在耳畔。我看见他憔悴的面孔，有时严肃，有时微笑，我忆起他那熟悉的姿态或手势。然而，他在这本闲谈式的书中，比在往日谈话间，显露出一个更为真实的自己。赖克罗夫特不曾犯过饶舌的错误；他通常会随和地默认别人的意见，不好辩论，不事张扬。对于一个备受煎熬的敏感的人来说，这是很自然的。而在这本日记里，他对我毫无保留。在读完整本书后，我对他比以前有了更深的了解。
Assuredly this writing was not intended for the public, and yet in many a passage I seemed to perceive the literary purpose—something more than the turn of phrase, and so on, which results from long habit of composition. Certain of his reminiscences, in particular, Ryecroft could hardly have troubled to write down had he not, however vaguely, entertained the thought of putting them to some use. I suspect that in his happy leisure there grew upon him a desire to write one more book, a book which should be written merely for his own satisfaction. Plainly, it would have been the best he had it in him to do. But he seems never to have attempted the arrangement of these fragmentary pieces, and probably because he could not decide upon the form they should take. I imagine him shrinking from the thought of a first-person volume; he would feel it too pretentious; he would bid himself wait for the day of riper wisdom. And so the pen fell from his hand.
这本书确实并不是为了读者而创作的。然而，在许多段落间—不只是措词等的改变—我好像感觉到一种文学目的，这是长久以来养成的创作习惯所致。尤其是一些回忆的文字，如果他没有隐隐约约地想过出版它们，就根本不会费心记下。我揣测，在他愉快的休闲时刻，内心可能酝酿着再写一本书的愿望，这本书只为自娱自乐而写。显然，如果他真有此想法，那最好不过了。但是他似乎从没尝试整理这些零碎的片段，很可能是因为还没决定采用什么形式。我猜想他一定不愿使用第一人称，那会感觉太自命不凡；他想等到智慧更成熟的那一天。就这样，笔杆从他指间永远地滑落了。
Conjecturing thus, I wondered whether the irregular diary might not have wider interest than at first appeared. To me its personal appeal was very strong; might it not be possible to cull from it the substance of a small volume which at least for its sincerity's sake would not be without value for those who read, not with the eye alone, but with the mind? I turned the pages again. Here was a man who, having his desire, and that a very modest one, not only felt satisfied, but enjoyed great happiness. He talked of many different things, saying exactly what he thought; he spoke of himself, and told the truth as far as mortal can tell it. It seemed to me that the thing had human interest. I decided to print.
在许多猜想之下，我也在思忖这本“不规范”的日记是否比初看上去有更大的意义。我对这本日记有很强烈的个人感情。如果从中选取一些段落汇集成小书，对那些不仅用眼睛，而且用心灵阅读的读者来说，应该会有一定价值，至少能受益于作者的诚挚。我再次翻开了这些书稿，这里面有一个人，他有欲望，但丝毫不过分；他不仅知足，而且过得非常快乐。他谈到许多事情，叙述着自己的确切感受；他谈到自己，用世间最诚实的笔触展示一个真实的自己。在我看来，这些文字有人性的光芒。因此，我决定将它公开出版。
The question of arrangement had to be considered; I did not like to offer a mere incondite miscellany. To supply each of the disconnected passages with a title, or even to group them under subject headings, would have interfered with the spontaneity which above all I wished to preserve. In reading through the matter I had selected, it struck me how often the aspects of nature were referred to, and how suitable many of the reflections were to the month with which they were dated. Ryecroft, I knew, had ever been much influenced by the mood of the sky and by the procession of the year. So I hit upon the thought of dividing the little book into four chapters, named after the seasons. Like all classifications, it is imperfect, but 'twill serve.
关于谋篇布局还需要考虑，我不愿向读者提供一锅东拼西凑的大杂烩。如果给每个分散的段落加一个标题，或者以不同的标题将其分类，都会破坏文章情感的自然流露，而这种自然的感觉正是我希望保留的。在阅读我挑选的段落的过程中，我发现其中频繁提到了关于大自然的各方面，许多随想与标注的月份之间非常合拍。我知道，赖克罗夫特是一个心情易受天气和四季变化影响的人。所以，我突发灵感，将这本小书分成四章，分别以四季命名。如所有分类法一样，它并不完美，但还差强人意。
G.G
乔治·吉辛Spring春
I
1
For more than a week my pen has lain untouched. I have written nothing for seven whole days, not even a letter. Except during one or two bouts of illness, such a thing never happened in my life before. In my life; the life, that is, which had to be supported by anxious toil; the life which was not lived for living's sake, as all life should be, but under the goad of fear. The earning of money should be a means to an end; for more than thirty years—I began to support myself at sixteen—I had to regard it as the end itself.
已经一个多星期没提笔了。整整七天，我什么也没写，连封信都没有写。除了一两次发病时，这样的事从没在我的生活中发生过。我的生活，是怎样的生活啊，靠着焦虑的劳作才得以维持；我的生活不像本来应该的那样—为了生活本身，而总要受着恐惧的驱策。挣钱应该是达到目的的手段，而三十多年来—我十六岁开始自立—我却不得不将挣钱当作终极目标。
I could imagine that my old penholder feels reproachfully towards me. Has it not served me well? Why do I, in my happiness, let it lie there neglected, gathering dust? The same penholder that has lain against my forefinger day after day, for—how many years? Twenty, at least; I remember buying it at a shop in Tottenham Court Road. By the same token I bought that day a paper-weight, which cost me a whole shilling—an extravagance which made me tremble. The penholder shone with its new varnish, now it is plain brown wood from end to end. On my forefinger it has made a callosity.
我可以想象旧笔杆对我心怀怨气。它待我不够好吗？我怎么可以只顾自己享乐，把它冷落在角落里蒙尘。这个曾经日复一日倚在我食指上的笔杆陪伴我多久了？至少二十年了吧。记得我是在托特纳姆法院路上的一家商店买到它的。那天我还买了一个镇纸，花了一个先令，如此的奢侈让我自己都有些发抖。刚买的时候笔杆闪着清漆的亮光，现在它浑身上下只剩下朴素的棕黑木色了。我的食指上还留有它磨起的一层老茧。
Old companion, yet old enemy! How many a time have I taken it up, loathing the necessity, heavy in head and heart, my hand shaking, my eyes sick-dazzled! How I dreaded the white page I had to foul with ink! Above all, on days such as this, when the blue eyes of Spring laughed from between rosy clouds, when the sunlight shimmered upon my table and made me long, long all but to madness, for the scent of the flowering earth, for the green of hillside larches, for the singing of the skylark above the downs. There was a time—it seems further away than childhood—when I took up my pen with eagerness; if my hand trembled it was with hope. But a hope that fooled me, for never a page of my writing deserved to live. I can say that now without bitterness. It was youthful error, and only the force of circumstance prolonged it. The world has done me no injustice; thank Heaven I have grown wise enough not to rail at it for this! And why should any man who writes, even if he writes things immortal, nurse anger at the world's neglect? Who asked him to publish? Who promised him a hearing? Who has broken faith with him? If my shoemaker turns me out an excellent pair of boots, and I, in some mood of cantankerous unreason, throw them back upon his hands, the man has just cause of complaint. But your poem, your novel, who bargained with you for it? If it is honest journeywork, yet lacks purchasers, at most you may call yourself a hapless tradesman. If it comes from on high, with what decency do you fret and fume because it is not paid for in heavy cash? For the work of man's mind there is one test, and one alone, the judgment of generations yet unborn. If you have written a great book, the world to come will know of it. But you don't care for posthumous glory. You want to enjoy fame in a comfortable armchair. Ah, that is quite another thing. Have the courage of your desire. Admit yourself a merchant, and protest to gods and men that the merchandise you offer is of better quality than much which sells for a high price. You may be right, and indeed it is hard upon you that Fashion does not turn to your stall.
老伙计，也是老对头！多少次我拿起它，那种写作的紧迫感令我憎恶，感觉心情沉重，头昏目眩，手不住地颤抖。我多么惧怕那张摆在面前等着我用墨水来玷污的白纸！尤其像今天这样的天气，春天的碧眼在玫瑰色的云朵间笑意盈盈，阳光在我的书桌上闪烁，我渴望大地上鲜花盛开的芬芳，山坡落叶松的翠绿，和高地上空歌唱的云雀，我心旌神荡，几欲癫狂。曾几何时，似乎是比童年更早的时候，我提起笔时，还存着一颗热切的心。如果我的手颤抖，那是因为心中充满了希望。但这希望愚弄了我，因为我写的东西没有一页值得留存世间。我现在这样说，心中毫无愤懑之感。它是年少轻狂的错误，而际遇所迫又让这错误延续下去。世界待我不可谓不厚，感谢老天，我现在已经足够睿智，不会为此问责世界。一个写作的人，即使是不朽作品的著者，又有什么理由因为世界的冷落而恼怒？谁要你出版了？谁向你允诺会有读者？谁又对你食言了？如果鞋匠给我做了一双不错的靴子，而我仅仅因为心情暴躁，无缘无故把靴子扔回他的手上，那他就有正当的理由抱怨。但你的诗，你的小说，谁和你讨价还价说要买下了？如果你的作品果然是认真创作的成果，却没有买家问津，那你顶多算是个不走运的商贩。如果作品来自上天赐予的灵感，你又怎好因为没人出天价购买而恼怒发火呢？要知道，人类的智力成果有且只有一个检验标准，那就是未出生的后来人的评价。如果你确实创作了一部伟大的著作，将来世界会知道它。然而你对身后荣誉根本不感兴趣，你只想坐在舒服的沙发上享受现世名誉加身。哈，这就完全是另外一回事了。鼓起欲望带给你的勇气，承认自己是一名商人，向上帝和人们大声疾呼，你的货物比那些高价商品质量更好。你也许是对的，但如果潮流不照顾你的货摊，那你的日子可不会好过。
II
2
The exquisite quiet of this room! I have been sitting in utter idleness, watching the sky, viewing the shape of golden sunlight upon the carpet, which changes as the minutes pass, letting my eye wander from one framed print to another, and along the ranks of my beloved books. Within the house nothing stirs. In the garden I can hear singing of birds, I can hear the rustle of their wings. And thus, if it pleases me, I may sit all day long, and into the profounder quiet of the night.
多么恬静雅致的房间啊！我完全无所事事地坐着，仰望天空，看着金色阳光洒在地毯上，光影随时间的推移变化着，我的目光从墙上的一幅幅画作，游移到我钟爱的一排排书上。房间里没有一丝动静，我听见鸟儿在花园里唱歌，听到它们拍打翅膀的沙沙声。如果我乐意的话，我可以这样坐上一整天，一直坐到万籁俱寂，夜幕深沉。
My house is perfect. By great good fortune I have found a housekeeper no less to my mind, a low-voiced, light-footed woman of discreet age, strong and deft enough to render me all the service I require, and not afraid of solitude. She rises very early. By my breakfast-time there remains little to be done under the roof save dressing of meals. Very rarely do I hear even a clink of crockery; never the closing of a door or window. Oh, blessed silence!
我的房子真是完美。非常幸运的是，我还找到了很中意的管家—一位声音柔和、脚步很轻的中年女人。她健壮能干，服务周到，并且安于寂寞。她起床很早，除了准备各餐饭的调味品，早饭后她就没什么家务事了。我很少听见锅碗的叮当声，更是从没听到过门窗关闭的声音。哦，这宁静真令人愉快！
There is not the remotest possibility of any one's calling upon me, and that I should call upon any one else is a thing undreamt of. I owe a letter to a friend; perhaps I shall write it before bedtime; perhaps I shall leave it till to-morrow morning. A letter of friendship should never be written save when the spirit prompts. I have not yet looked at the newspaper. Generally I leave it till I come back tired from my walk; it amuses me then to see what the noisy world is doing, what new self torments men have discovered, what new forms of vain toil, what new occasions of peril and of strife. I grudge to give the first freshness of the morning mind to things so sad and foolish.
有人来访的可能性微乎其微，我去拜访别人更是做梦都不会想的事。我还欠朋友一封信，也许会在睡觉前写，也许要等到明天一早。给友人的信一定要待到兴致来时再写。报纸我还没有看，通常我会等到散步回来累了的时候才看。那时来看这个嘈杂世界的众生百态，看人们发现了什么自我折磨的新法子，什么徒劳无功的新形式，什么犯险争斗的新机会，会让我觉得有趣。我可不愿让清新的头脑一大早就接触这些悲哀和愚蠢的事情。
My house is perfect. Just large enough to allow the grace of order in domestic circumstance; just that superfluity of intramural space, to lack which is to be less than at one's ease. The fabric is sound; the work in wood and plaster tells of a more leisurely and a more honest age than ours. The stairs do not creak under my step; I am waylaid by no unkindly draught; I can open or close a window without muscle-ache. As to such trifles as the tint and device of wall-paper, I confess my indifference; be the walls only unobtrusive, and I am satisfied. The first thing in one's home is comfort; let beauty of detail be added if one has the means, the patience, the eye.
我的房子真是完美。大小正好可以让家里的物什一应俱全、井井有条；屋内多出的空间也刚刚好，缺了它感觉就不那么舒服。房子建得很牢固，木工和泥工的手艺表明那个年代比我们现在更闲适、诚实。我踩在楼梯上不会有嗄吱作响的声音，也没有穿堂风出其不意地来袭击我，我开关窗户也不会感觉肌肉酸痛。至于其他一些琐事，比如墙纸的色彩和图案，我承认自己并不关心；只要不碍眼，我就心满意足了。家的第一要义是舒服，如果有财资、耐心和鉴赏力，还可以增添些美丽的细节。
To me, this little book-room is beautiful, and chiefly because it is home. Through the greater part of life I was homeless. Many places have I inhabited, some which my soul loathed, and some which pleased me well; but never till now with that sense of security which makes a home. At any moment I might have been driven forth by evil hap, by nagging necessity. For all that time did I say within myself: Some day, perchance, I shall have a home; yet the "perchance" had more and more of emphasis as life went on, and at the moment when fate was secretly smiling on me, I had all but abandoned hope. I have my home at last. When I place a new volume on my shelves, I say: Stand there whilst I have eyes to see you; and a joyous tremor thrills me. This house is mine on a lease of a score of years. So long I certainly shall not live; but, if I did, even so long should I have the wherewithal to pay my rent and buy my food.
在我眼里，这间小小的书屋美丽极了，主要因为它是家的缘故。我大半生都无家可归，虽然住过很多地方，有些让我从心底里厌恶，有些还算舒服，但直到现在我才找到那种家之为家的安全感。以前我随时会被厄运或穷困驱使着四处漂泊。那时我曾对自己说，有一天，也许，我会有一个家；但是日长年久，“也许”这两个字的分量越来越重了。在命运偷偷向我微笑的那个时刻，我差不多都要放弃希望了。现在，我终于有了属于自己的家。当我把一卷新书放在书架上时，我对它说“呆在这儿永远别动，一直到我闭眼的时候”，这话让我兴奋得颤栗了。这座房屋的租期是二十年，我一定活不了那么长时间；不过，即使能活那么久，我也有钱来付租金和填饱肚子。
I think with compassion of the unhappy mortals for whom no such sun will ever rise. I should like to add to the Litany1a new petition: "For all inhabitants of great towns, and especially for all such as dwell in lodgings, boarding-houses, flats, or any other sordid substitute for Home which need or foolishness may have contrived." In vain I have pondered the Stoic virtues. I know that it is folly to fret about the spot of one's abode on this little earth.
我满怀同情地想到那些不幸的人们，那些生命中永远不会再有太阳升起的人。我想在连祷文里加上一句祈祷：“为了大城市的所有居民，尤其为了那些因为窘迫或愚蠢而住在寄宿舍、家庭旅馆、公寓或其他‘家’的可怜替代品里的人们。”我苦苦思索斯多葛派的美德却不得其要。我知道一个人为自己在这小小地球上的住所而烦恼是愚蠢的。
All places that the eye of heaven visits
天堂之眼眷顾的所有地方
Are to the wise man ports and happy havens.
对于智者都是避风港和幸福地。
But I have always worshipped wisdom afar off. In the sonorous period of the philosopher, in the golden measure of the poet, I find it of all things lovely. To its possession I shall never attain. What will it serve me to pretend a virtue of which I am incapable? To me the place and manner of my abode is of supreme import; let it be confessed, and there an end of it. I am no cosmopolite. Were I to think that I should die away from England, the thought would be dreadful to me. And in England, this is the dwelling of my choice; this is my home.
然而，我对智慧从来都是遥遥相拜的。在哲学家洪亮的句读中，在诗人耀目的诗节间，我发现智慧在所有的事物中是最可爱的。我永远不会想要占有它，假装有智慧对我有什么好处呢？对我来说，住所的位置和样式是最重要的；我承认了，就此打住。我也不是四海为家的人，只要一想到客死异国他乡，我便感到恐惧。英格兰是我心仪的栖身之处，这里是我的家。
III
3
I am no botanist, but I have long found pleasure in herb-gathering. I love to come upon a plant which is unknown to me, to identify it with the help of my book, to greet it by name when next it shines beside my path. If the plant be rare, its discovery gives me joy. Nature, the great Artist, makes her common f lowers in the common view; no word in human language can express the marvel and the loveliness even of what we call the vulgarest weed, but these are fashioned under the gaze of every passer-by. The rare flower is shaped apart, in places secret, in the Artist's subtler mood; to find it is to enjoy the sense of admission to a holier precinct. Even in my gladness I am awed.
我虽然不是植物专家，但长久以来一直以收集花草为乐。偶然遇见一株陌生植物，遍查书本得其名，小径重逢之际以名呼之，这在我是一件乐事。若这植物是稀有品种，那就更令我欢喜。大自然这伟大的艺术家赋予普通花草普通的外表。然而即使是最寻常的野草，人类也无法找到语言来描述其神奇和可爱，它们还都是路人皆见的。稀有的花草则不然，它们是大自然这位艺术家更精巧构思的作品，并将它们隐于偏僻之处，遇之则有受允步入神圣疆域的欢欣之感。然而在这欢欣中我不能不心存敬畏。
Today I have walked far, and at the end of my walk I found the little whiteflowered wood-ruff. It grew in a copse of young ash. When I had looked long at the flower, I delighted myself with the grace of the slim trees about it—their shining smoothness, their olive hue. Hard by stood a bush of wychelm; its tettered bark, overlined as if with the character of some unknown tongue, made the young ashes yet more beautiful.
今天散步走得很远，最后我在幼嫩的树丛中，发现了开着小白花的车叶草，我凝视了它许久。花的周围是一株株纤细的树，它们长得油亮光滑，呈橄榄色，让我心里好不欢喜。近旁有一丛坚挺的山榆树，树皮坑坑洼洼，似乎横七竖八地刻着某种未知的文字，将幼嫩的树衬托得愈发美丽了。
It matters not how long I wander. There is no task to bring me back; no one will be vexed or uneasy, linger I ever so late. Spring is shining upon these lanes and meadows; I feel as if I must follow every winding track that opens by my way. Spring has restored to me something of the longforgotten vigour of youth; I walk without weariness; I sing to myself like a boy, and the song is one I knew in boyhood.
我漫游多久都无所谓。没什么等待处理的事务，也没有什么人会因为我在外耽搁太久而恼怒或不安。美好春光在这些小径和草地上闪耀，我感觉自己好像不由自主地想走一走每一条延伸至脚下的蜿蜒小路。春天复苏了我体内沉酣许久的年轻活力；我不知疲倦地散着步，哼着小曲，像小男孩一样，曲子也正是儿时学来的。
That reminds me of an incident. Near a hamlet, in a lonely spot by a woodside, I came upon a little lad of perhaps ten years old, who, his head hidden in his arms against a tree trunk, was crying bitterly. I asked him what was the matter, and, after a little trouble—he was better than a mere bumpkin—I learnt that, having been sent with sixpence to pay a debt, he had lost the money. The poor little fellow was in a state of mind which in a grave man would be called the anguish of despair; he must have been crying for a long time; every muscle in his face quivered as if under torture, his limbs shook; his eyes, his voice, uttered such misery as only the vilest criminal should be made to suffer. And it was because he had lost sixpence!
这勾起了我一件往事。在一个小村庄附近，树林旁一个偏僻的地方，我碰见一个约莫十岁的小男孩。当时他正靠着一棵树，抱头痛哭。我上前询问，费了一番功夫，才从这个愣头愣脑的乡下小子嘴里得知，原来他被差去还六个便士的债，结果把钱丢了。这个可怜的小家伙那时的心境，对于一个严肃的成年人来说，可以称之为“绝望的痛苦”。他一定哭了好一阵子，脸上的每一块肌肉都在颤动，好像在遭受折磨一样，他的四肢在发抖；他的眼睛和声音里流露出的是只有最十恶不赦的罪犯才该承受的痛楚。而一切只是因为他丢了六个便士！
I could have shed tears with him—tears of pity and of rage at all this spectacle implied. On a day of indescribable glory, when earth and heaven shed benedictions upon the soul of man, a child, whose nature would have bidden him rejoice as only childhood may, wept his heart out because his hand had dropped a sixpenny piece! The loss was a very serious one, and he knew it; he was less afraid to face his parents, than overcome by misery at the thought of the harm he had done them. Sixpence dropped by the wayside, and a whole family made wretched! What are the due descriptive terms for a state of "civilization" in which such a thing as this is possible?
我几乎要和他一起流泪—为这一幕情景流下同情和愤怒的眼泪。那天，阳光灿烂得无法用言语描绘，天地向人的灵魂播洒祝福，一个本该纵情欢乐的孩子却哭得死去活来，仅仅是因为他弄丢了六便士！这件事情非常严重，他清楚这一点。比起父母的责难，他更无法忍受的是自己的过失给他们带来的痛苦。真是“路上丢了六便士，一大家子都遭罪”！一个容许这种事情发生的“文明”，我们该用什么合适的词汇来描述它呢？
I put my hand into my pocket, and wrought sixpenny worth of miracle.
我把手伸进口袋，变出了六个便士的“魔法”。
It took me half an hour to recover my quiet mind. After all, it is as idle to rage against man's fatuity as to hope that he will ever be less a fool. For me, the great thing was my sixpenny miracle. Why, I have known the day when it would have been beyond my power altogether, or else would have cost me a meal. Wherefore, let me again be glad and thankful.
半个小时后，我的心情才平静下来。毕竟，为人们的愚蠢发火，和希望他能少做蠢事，都是徒然的。对于我，最可自豪的是那六个便士的魔法。是这样的，我也经历过那样的日子，我根本爱莫能助，或者说，我要付出一顿饭钱的代价。为此，请容许我再次感到喜悦并且感恩。
IV
4
There was a time in my life when, if I had suddenly been set in the position I now enjoy, conscience would have lain in ambush for me. What! An income sufficient to support three or four working-class families—a house all to myself—things beautiful wherever I turn—and absolutely nothing to do for it all! I should have been hard put to it to defend myself. In those days I was feelingly reminded, hour by hour, with what a struggle the obscure multitudes manage to keep alive. Nobody knows better than I do quam parvo liceat producere vitam. I have hungered in the streets; I have laid my head in the poorest shelter; I know what it is to feel the heart burn with wrath and envy of "the privileged classes." Yes, but all that time I was one of "the privileged" myself, and now I can accept a recognized standing among them without shadow of self-reproach.
我的生命中曾有一个时期，如果我突然置于现在的舒适环境，良心会暗中谴责我。什么！足够养活三四户工人阶级家庭的收入—完全属于自己的房子—满眼都是漂亮的东西—而且绝对地坐享其成！我应该很难为自己辩护。那时候，我常常由衷地想到，无名小卒们要维持生存是多么艰难。没有人比我更了解“用多么少的东西，就可以维持生命”。我曾在街头忍饥挨饿，也曾在最龌龊的寓所栖身；我了解对“特权阶层”的愤怒和妒忌在心中燃烧时火辣辣的感觉。然而，那时候我已是“特权阶层”的一员，但现在我可以接受这个阶层的一席之地，而心中全无自责的阴影。
It does not mean that my larger sympathies are blunted. By going to certain places, looking upon certain scenes, I could most effectually destroy all the calm that life has brought me. If I hold apart and purposely refuse to look that way, it is because I believe that the world is better, not worse, for having one more inhabitant who lives as becomes a civilized being. Let him whose soul prompts him to assail the iniquity of things, cry and spare not; let him who has the vocation go forth and combat. In me it would be to err from Nature's guidance. I know, if I know anything, that I am made for the life of tranquility and meditation. I know that only thus can such virtue as I possess find scope. More than half a century of existence has taught me that most of the wrong and folly which darken earth is due to those who cannot possess their souls in quiet; that most of the good which saves mankind from destruction comes of life that is led in thoughtful stillness. Every day the world grows noisier; I, for one, will have no part in that increasing clamour, and, were it only by my silence, I confer a boon on all.
这并不代表我的大众同情心迟钝了。去到某些地方，看到某些场景，我就能把生活带给我的平静破坏无遗。如果我保持距离，有意不往那个方向看，那是因为我觉得，多一个过上文明生活的人，世界会变得更加美好，而不是更糟。让那些受灵魂驱策的人去抨击世间所有的不公，大声疾呼，毫不留情吧；让那些专司此职的人走上前去斗争吧。我如果那样做，便是有悖本性的引导了。如果我有所知的话，我知道自己是为平静和冥思的生活而生的。我知道，只有过这样的生活，我身上的优点才有发挥的空间。在世上活了大半个世纪，我认识到，玷污人间的大多数错误和蠢事都是那些不肯让灵魂宁静的人搞出来的；大多数挽救人类免受灭顶之灾的善举都是那些在沉思和宁静中生活的人做出的。每一天，世界都变得更加喧闹，而在这片愈演愈烈的喧嚷声中我是没份的。虽然我做的只是保持沉默，但这对所有人都是一份恩惠。
How well would the revenues of a country be expended, if, by mere pensioning, one-fifth of its population could be induced to live as I do!
如果仅仅靠提供养老金，能使一个国家五分之一的人口都过上我这样的优裕生活，那会是使用国家税收岁入多么好的方法啊！
V
5
"Sir," said Johnson, "all the arguments which are brought to represent poverty as no evil, show it to be evidently a great evil. You never find people labouring to convince you that you may live very happily upon a plentiful fortune."“先生，”约翰逊说，“所有那些用来证明贫穷无害的论点明明白白地显示贫穷是一个极大的恶魔。因为从来不会有人费力说服你相信丰厚的资产可以让人过上幸福生活。”
He knew what he was talking of, that rugged old master of common sense. Poverty is of course a relative thing; the term has reference, above all, to one's standing as an intellectual being. If I am to believe the newspapers, there are title-bearing men and women in England who, had they an assured income of five-and-twenty shillings per week, would have no right to call themselves poor, for their intellectual needs are those of a stable-boy or scullery wench. Give me the same income and I can live, but I am poor indeed.
这个世事洞明而率直的老先生明白自己在说什么。贫穷当然是相对来说的，这个词首先和一个人的知识境界相关。如果我可以相信报纸的话，英格兰那些有头衔的绅士贵妇们，假使每周的固定收入只有二十五先令，也没有权利说自己贫穷，因为他们的知识需求和马童或洗碗女工无异。给我同样的收入，我可以维持生活，但我确实贫穷。
You tell me that money cannot buy the things most precious. Your commonplace proves that you have never known the lack of it. When I think of all the sorrow and the barrenness that has been wrought in my life by want of a few more pounds per annum than I was able to earn, I stand aghast at money's significance. What kindly joys have I lost, those simple forms of happiness to which every heart has claim, because of poverty! Meetings with those I loved made impossible year after year; sadness, misunderstanding, nay, cruel alienation, arising from inability to do the things I wished, and which I might have done had a little money helped me; endless instances of homely pleasure and contentment curtailed or forbidden by narrow means. I have lost friends merely through the constraints of my position; friends I might have made have remained strangers to me; solitude of the bitter kind, the solitude which is enforced at times when mind or heart longs for companionship, often cursed my life solely because I was poor. I think it would scarce be an exaggeration to say that there is no moral good which has not to be paid for in coin of the realm.
你告诉我金钱买不到最珍贵的东西，这种陈词滥调证明了你从来不知道缺钱的滋味。当我想到因为每年少挣几英磅而导致生活变得哀痛不堪、毫无生气，我便惊骇于钱的重大意义。因为贫穷，许多温情的快乐—每颗心原本都有份的简单的快乐—都与我失之交臂。年复一年，不能与亲戚至爱重逢；那些因为不能随心所欲而产生的悲伤、误解、拒绝和残酷的疏远，如果有一点钱的帮助，本来都可以避免；因为捉襟见肘，那么多家常的乐趣都被削减或被剥夺。因为我的处境所限，我失去了一些朋友；一些本可以成为朋友的人现在还是陌生人；那种痛苦的孤独感，心灵渴望陪伴时加倍的孤独感，常常折磨着我，就因为我的贫穷。我想这样说不算夸张：没有金钱的代价便不会有道德的闪光。
"Poverty," said Johnson again, "is so great an evil, and pregnant with so much temptation, so much misery, that I cannot but earnestly enjoin you to avoid it."
约翰逊又说：“贫穷真是一个大恶魔，孕育着许多诱惑，许多痛苦，我只能郑重地告诫你千万避开它。”
For my own part, I needed no injunction to that effort of avoidance. Many a London garret knows how I struggled with the unwelcomechamber-fellow. I marvel she did not abide with me to the end; it is a sort of inconsequence in Nature, and sometimes makes me vaguely uneasy through nights of broken sleep.
对我来说，我根本不需要他那逃避贫穷的告诫。伦敦的许多阁楼见证过我是如何与这位讨厌的管家争吵的。我感到惊讶的是，她居然没有一直和我闹下去。这种不符合自然规律的情况，有时让我在梦醒失眠的夜晚还模糊地感到不安。
VI
6
How many more springs can I hope to see? A sanguine temper would say ten or twelve; let me dare to hope humbly for five or six. That is a great many. Five or six spring-times, welcomed joyously, lovingly watched from the first celandine to the budding of the rose; who shall dare to call it a stinted boon? Five or six times the miracle of earth reclad, the vision of splendour and loveliness which tongue has never yet described, set before my gazing. To think of it is to fear that I ask too much.
我还能希望看到几个春天呢？乐观一点，可以说还有十或十二个。我斗胆奢望五六个吧，这已经很多了。五六个春天，满怀喜悦地迎接它们的到来，深情注视着初生的白屈菜和玫瑰初绽的新芽，谁又能说这是吝啬的恩惠呢？大地奇迹般地五六次重披绿装，难以形容的烂漫可爱的景象在我眼前呈现。想到这些，我都不免要担心自己的要求会不会有些过分。
VII
7
"Homo animal querulum cupide suis incumbens miseriis." I wonder where that comes from. I found it once in Charron2, quoted without reference, and it has often been in my mind—a dreary truth, well worded. At least, it was a truth for me during many a long year. Life, I fancy, would very often be insupportable, but for the luxury of self compassion; in cases numberless, this it must be that saves from suicide. For some there is great relief in talking about their miseries, but such gossips lack the profound solace of misery nursed in silent brooding. Happily, the trick with me has never been retrospective; indeed, it was never, even with regard to instant suffering, a habit so deeply rooted as to become a mastering vice. I knew my own weakness when I yielded to it; I despised myself when it brought me comfort; I could laugh scornfully, even "cupide meis incumbens miseriis." And now, thanks be to the unknown power which rules us, my past has buried its dead. More than that; I can accept with sober cheerfulness the necessity of all I lived through. So it was to be; so it was. For this did Nature shape me; with what purpose, I shall never know; but, in the sequence of things eternal, this was my place.“人是爱抱怨的动物，总爱想着自己的烦恼，”不知道这句话出自何处。我曾在沙朗的著作中看见过，但出处没有标明，从此它便萦绕在我的脑海—道出一个令人不快的事实，措词精当。至少，很多年里，它对我都是一个事实。如果没有对自我的同情，我想生活常常会难以承受，它也一定让许多人打消了自杀的念头。对一些人来说，谈论自己的痛苦是很大的解脱，但这种闲聊缺少在冥思中才能获得的深沉慰藉。可喜的是，回顾既往从来不是我的癖好。事实上，即便对于眼下的痛苦，回顾也绝不是我根深蒂固的习惯，以至于变成主宰我的一大恶习。当我沉湎于这种回顾时，我知道自身有弱点；而当这种回顾给我带来安慰时，我会鄙视自己，甚至连“于逆流之来，处之泰然”，我都可以轻蔑地嘲笑。感谢掌控我们的未知力量，我已经埋葬自己的过去。更重要的是，我现在可以清醒愉快地接受过去一切经历的必要性了。注定要发生的已经发生。“自然”为这些而塑造了我，至于有何目的，我永远不会知道。但是在永恒事物的秩序中，这是我的位置。
Could I have achieved so much philosophy if, as I ever feared, the closing years of my life had passed in helpless indigence? Should I not have sunk into lowest depths of querulous self-pity, groveling there with eyes obstinately averted from the light above?
如果像我一直恐惧的那样，晚年在无助的贫穷中度过，我还能悟出这许多人生哲学来吗？我难道不会陷入牢骚满腹的自哀自怜中不能自拔，匍匐爬行，眼睛固执地躲避着阳光吗？
VIII
8
The early coming of spring in this happy Devon gladdens my heart. I think with chill discomfort of those parts of England where the primrose shivers beneath a sky of threat rather than of solace. Honest winter, snow-clad and with the frosted beard, I can welcome not uncordially; but that long deferment of the calendar's promise, that weeping gloom of March and April, that bitter blast outraging the honour of May—how often has it robbed me of heart and hope. Here, scarce have I assured myself that the last leaf has fallen, scarce have I watched the glistening of hoar-frost upon the evergreens, when a breath from the west thrills me with anticipation of bud and bloom. Even under this grey-billowing sky, which tells that February is still in rule:
春天早早地来到了德文郡，我的心情好不欢畅。一想到在英格兰的某些地方，迎春花在阴云密布的天空下瑟缩发抖，我便感到浑身发凉，很不舒服。冬天是真诚的，银装素裹，胡须结霜，我并非不欢迎它；但是日历上的承诺一再被推迟，三、四月份阴雨连绵令人郁闷，五月份寒风凛冽又蹂躏春天的荣光—屡屡让我失望,心情不佳。这里，我自己刚刚确信最后一片叶子已经落下，也刚刚看到常青树上挂着晶莹白霜时，一缕西风就悠然而至，让我对春暖花开充满期待。即使在今天这个仍是二月掌管的乌云翻滚的天空下—
Mild winds shake the elder brake,
和风摇动着接骨木丛，
And the wandering herdsmen know
漫游的牧人晓得
That the whitethorn soon will blow.3
山楂花快要开放了。
I have been thinking of those early years of mine in London, when the seasons passed over me unobserved, when I seldom turned a glance towards the heavens, and felt no hardship in the imprisonment of boundless streets. It is strange now to remember that for some six or seven years I never looked upon a meadow, never travelled even so far as to the tree-bordered suburbs. I was battling for dear life; on most days I could not feel certain that in a week's time I should have food and shelter. It would happen, to be sure, that in hot noons of August my thoughts wandered to the sea; but so impossible was the gratification of such desire that it never greatly troubled me. At times, indeed, I seem all but to have forgotten that people went away for holiday. In those poor parts of the town where I dwelt, season made no perceptible difference; there were no luggage-laden cabs to remind me of joyous journeys; the folk about me went daily to their toil as usual, and so did I. I remember afternoons of languor, when books were a weariness, and no thought could be squeezed out of the drowsy brain; then would I betake myself to one of the parks, and find refreshment without any enjoyable sense of change. Heavens, how I laboured in those days! And how far I was from thinking of myself as a subject for compassion! That came later, when my health had begun to suffer from excess of toil, from bad air, bad food and many miseries; then awoke the maddening desire for countryside and sea-beach—and for other things yet more remote. But in the years when I toiled hardest and underwent what now appear to me hideous privations, of a truth I could not be said to suffer at all. I did not suffer, for I had no sense of weakness. My health was proof against everything, and my energies defied all malice of circumstance. With however little encouragement, I had infinite hope. Sound sleep (often in places I now dread to think of) sent me fresh to the battle each morning, my breakfast, sometimes, no more than a slice of bread and a cup of water. As human happiness goes, I am not sure that I was not then happy.
我回想起早年在伦敦度过的岁月，那时，我几乎从没在意过四季变迁，也很少抬头仰望天空，身处无边无际的街道的围困中也不觉得痛苦。现在，回想到我居然有六七年的时间没看过草地一眼，甚至连绿树环绕的郊区都不曾去过，便会感到奇怪。我当时在为宝贵的生活而打拼，大多数时间，我都不能确定一周后我还能否有吃有住。当然，在八月炎热的午后，我的思绪可能会飘到大海上；这种愿望实现的希望太渺茫，所以并没有让我太烦恼。有时，我似乎已经忘记世人还有度假这种消遣。在我栖身的伦敦的贫穷区域，四季没有明显的分别，也没有载着行李的马车让我想起愉快的旅途。我身边的人们都在日复一日地奔波劳碌，我也是如此。记得在倦怠的下午，书本让人昏昏欲睡，困乏的脑子里挤不出任何思想。这时我会到公园去恢复一下精神，但不会享受到季节变化带来的愉悦。天哪，我那时多么辛苦啊！当时的我却根本不觉得自己是值得同情的对象！直到后来，因为过度劳累，糟糕的空气，粗劣的食物和许多磨难，我的健康开始受损。那时，我对乡村、海滩还有更遥远事物的疯狂渴望开始在心底苏醒。然而，在最辛苦的那些岁月，现在看来简直是可怕的穷困潦倒，但事实上我却不能说自己那时候在受苦。我没有受苦，原因是我没有软弱的感觉。我的健康是抵御一切遭遇的屏障，我的精神抗阻着一切厄境的进攻。不管受到的鼓励多么微不足道，我心里都存着无限的希望。美美睡上一觉后（通常在我至今都怕想起的地方），第二天一早我就能重整旗鼓投入战斗，而我的早餐有时只是一片面包一杯水。如人类幸福所言，我不能说自己当时就不快活。
Most men who go through a hard time in their youth are supported by companionship. London has no pays latin4, but hungry beginners in literature have generally their suitable comrades, garreteers in the Tottenham Court Road district, or in unredeemed Chelsea; they make their little vie de Boheme, and are consciously proud of it. Of my position, the peculiarity was that I never belonged to any cluster; I shrank from casual acquaintance, and, through the grim years, had but one friend with whom I held converse. It was never my instinct to look for help, to seek favour for advancement; whatever step I gained was gained by my own strength. Even as I disregarded favour so did I scorn advice; no counsel would I ever take but that of my own brain and heart. More than once I was driven by necessity to beg from strangers the means of earning bread, and this of all my experiences was the bitterest; yet I think I should have found it worse still to incur a debt to some friend or comrade. The truth is that I have never learnt to regard myself as a "member of society." For me, there have always been two entities—myself and the world, and the normal relation between these two has been hostile. Am I not still a lonely man, as far as ever from forming part of the social order?
许多年轻时吃苦头的人都有朋友的支持。伦敦没有拉丁区，但是如饥似渴的文学新手们通常都有相处融洽的同伴，大都是托特纳姆法院路或破败的切尔西区阁楼房客。他们创造着自己的“波希米亚人的生活”，并且心下为之自豪。而我的特殊之处在于不是任何圈子的成员，我有意避免滥交朋友，在那段阴暗的岁月中，只有一个时常谈心的朋友。我本能地不愿求人帮忙，或者寻求晋升的机会，我的任何一点进步都是凭自己的力量取得的。我对外界的帮助不屑一顾，也藐视别人的建议；我从不会采纳除自己头脑和心灵之外任何人的建议。曾经不止一次，我迫不得已向陌生人乞讨谋生的机会，这在我所有经历中是最苦涩的，但可能让我更无法忍受的是欠某个朋友或同事的债。事实上，我从没学会将自己视作“社会成员”。对我来说，永远只有两个实体存在—我自己和世界，两者的正常关系是敌对的。就组成社会秩序之一部分这个意义上来讲，现在的我不仍然是一个孤独的人吗？
This, of which I once was scornfully proud, seems to me now, if not a calamity, something I would not choose if life were to live again.
曾经我对此还有一种居高临下的自豪感，而现在，即使这不算什么灾难，如果生活能重新来过，我想我也不会作出同样的选择了。
IX
9
For more than six years I trod the pavement, never stepping once upon mother earth—for the parks are but pavement disguised with a growth of grass. Then the worst was over. Say I the worst? No, no; things far worse were to come; the struggle against starvation has its cheery side when one is young and vigorous. But at all events I had begun to earn a living; I held assurance of food and clothing for half a year at a time; granted health, I might hope to draw my not insufficient wages for many a twelvemonth. And they were the wages of work done independently, when and where I would. I thought with horror of lives spent in an office, with an employer to obey. The glory of the career of letters was its freedom, its dignity!
六年多以来，我都行走于人行道上，从未踏足大地母亲—公园也不过是用一些用草伪装的人行道罢了。那么说，最坏的时候已经过去了。我说最坏了吗？不，更糟的还在后面。年轻力壮的时候，与饥饿斗争还有阳光的一面。不管怎样，我已经开始谋生了，一次拿到的钱就足够维持半年的衣食。身体不出状况的话，在将来好多年里还能指望领取那点还算可观的薪金。这些工资都是独立工作的回报，是我按自己的心意选择时间和地点工作的。想到办公室里的生活，要对上司唯唯诺诺，我就会不寒而栗。文学生涯的光荣就在于它的自由，它的尊严！
The fact of the matter was, of course, that I served, not one master, but a whole crowd of them. Independence, forsooth! If my writing failed to please editor, publisher, public, where was my daily bread? The greater my success, the more numerous my employers. I was the slave of a multitude. By heaven's grace I had succeeded in pleasing (that is to say, in making myself a source of profit to) certain persons who represented this vague throng; for the time, they were gracious to me; but what justified me in the faith that I should hold the ground I had gained? Could the position of any toiling man be more precarious than mine? I tremble now as I think of it, tremble as I should in watching someone who walked carelessly on the edge of an abyss. I marvel at the recollection that for a good score of years this pen and a scrap of paper clothed and fed me and my household, kept me in physical comfort, held at bay all those hostile forces of the world ranged against one who has no resource save in his own right hand.
当然事实上，我服务的不是一个主人，而是一群。这又谈何独立!如果我的文章不能让编辑、出版商和读者们满意，那我每天的面包又从何而来？我越成功，雇主就越多，我就是大众的奴隶。蒙上天眷顾，我的文字还能让代表这个模糊群体的几个人感到满意（也就是说，自己成为了他们获取利润的来源）。目前，他们对我相当殷勤，但我有什么理由相信自己能守住已经占领的文学地位呢？还有哪一个劳碌人的地位比我的更岌岌可危吗？想到这里，我都会发抖，就像看到一个人在悬崖边上漫不经心地走动。回忆几十年来，我和家人能衣食不愁，物质生活也算舒适，还抵御了一切世间的不幸遭遇和打击，身无所长的一介文人仅靠着一支笔和一片纸就做到了这些，我不免惊异。
But I was thinking of the year which saw my first exodus from London. On an irresistible impulse, I suddenly made up my mind to go into Devon, a part of England I had never seen. At the end of March I escaped from my grim lodgings, and, before I had time to reflect on the details of my undertaking, I found myself sitting in sunshine at a spot very near to where I now dwell—before me the green valley of the broadening Exe and the pine-clad ridge of Haldon. That was one of the moments of my life when I have tasted exquisite joy. My state of mind was very strange. Though as boy and youth I had been familiar with the country, had seen much of England's beauties, it was as though I found myself for the first time before a natural landscape. Those years of London had obscured all my earlier life; I was like a man town-born and bred, who scarce knows anything but street vistas. The light, the air, had for me something of the supernatural—affected me, indeed, only less than at a later time did the atmosphere of Italy. It was glorious spring weather; a few white clouds floated amid the blue, and the earth had an intoxicating fragrance. Then first did I know myself for a sunworshipper. How had I lived so long without asking whether there was a sun in the heavens or not? Under that radiant firmament, I could have thrown myself upon my knees in adoration. As I walked, I found myself avoiding every strip of shadow; were it but that of a birch trunk, I felt as if it robbed me of the day's delight. I went bare-headed, that the golden beams might shed upon me their unstinted blessing. That day I must have walked some thirty miles, yet I knew not fatigue. Could I but have once more the strength which then supported me!
我的思绪回到第一次出走伦敦的那一年。因为一股不可抑制的冲动，我突然决定要到德文郡去，我之前从没去过那里。三月底的时候，我从阴暗的寓所逃离，还没有来得及细想旅行的细节，就发现自己已经坐在阳光之下，坐在离现在住处很近的一个地方—面前是渐次开阔的绿油油的埃克斯河谷和青松覆盖的哈尔登山脊。那一刻是我人生少有的，我感受到一种奇妙无比的快乐。当时的心态很奇怪。虽然从小在乡村长大，看到过英格兰乡间的许多美景，但那一刻似乎是我第一次意识到自己面对的是自然景色。伦敦的岁月把我儿时的记忆变模糊了，我就像一个在城里出生长大，除街景外一无所知的孩子。那时的阳光和空气似乎蕴含着一种超自然的东西—深深地感染了我，这种感觉仅次于我后来在意大利氛围中的陶醉。那个春日绚烂美丽，白云朵朵在蓝天上飘浮，大地散发出醉人的芬芳。那是我第一次知道原来自己是个崇拜太阳的人。我怎么可以在世上活了这么久，却从没问过天上是否有个太阳？在华彩的天穹下，我几乎要跪下来表达我的仰慕之情。当我行走时，我发现自己躲避着每一方阴影；就连桦树的阴影，我都感觉它会抢走我这一天的快乐。我光着头，全身心地接受金色光线的慷慨爱抚。那天我可能走了三十英里，却毫无倦意。如果能再次拥有到那一天支撑我的无穷力量该有多好！
I had stepped into a new life. Between the man I had been and that which I now became there was a very notable difference. In a single day I had matured astonishingly; which means, no doubt, that I suddenly entered into conscious enjoyment of powers and sensibilities which had been developing unknown to me. To instance only one point: till then I had cared very little about plants and flowers, but now I found myself eagerly interested in every blossom, in every growth of the wayside. As I walked I gathered a quantity of plants, promising myself to buy a book on the morrow and identify them all. Nor was it a passing humour; never since have I lost my pleasure in the flowers of the field, and my desire to know them all. My ignorance at the time of which I speak seems to me now very shameful; but I was merely in the case of ordinary people, whether living in town or country. How many could give the familiar name of half a dozen plants plucked at random from beneath the hedge in springtime? To me the flowers became symbolical of a great release, of a wonderful awakening. My eyes had all at once been opened; till then I had walked in darkness, yet knew it not.
我步入了一个全新的生活中。过去的我和现在的我之间有了显著
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