有声英语少儿读物 月亮月六便士 Volume1 Chapter1-5

I confess that whenfirst I made acquaintance with Charles Strickland I never for a momentdiscerned that there was in him anything out of the ordinary. Yet now few willbe found to deny his greatness. I do not speak of that greatness which isachieved by the fortunate politician or the successful soldier; that is a qualitywhich belongs to the place he occupies rather than to the man; and a change ofcircumstances reduces it to very discreet proportions. The Prime Minister outof office is seen, too often, to have been but a pompous rhetorician, and theGeneral without an army is but the tame hero of a market town. The greatness ofCharles Strickland was authentic. It may be that you do not like his art, butat all events you can hardly refuse it the tribute of your interest. Hedisturbs and arrests. The time has passed when he was an object of ridicule,and it is no longer a mark of eccentricity to defend or of perversity to extolhim. His faults are accepted as the necessary complement to his merits. It isstill possible to discuss his place in art, and the adulation of his admirersis perhaps no less capricious than the disparagement of his detractors; but onething can never be doubtful, and that is that he had genius.

To my mind the mostinteresting thing in art is the personality of the artist; and if that issingular, I am willing to excuse a thousand faults. I suppose Velasquez was abetter painter than El Greco, but custom stales one's admiration for him: the Cretan,/ˈsenʃuəl/ and tragic, proffers the mystery of his soul like a standing sacrifice.The artist, painter, poet, or musician, by his decoration, sublime or beautiful,satisfies the aesthetic sense; but that is akin to the sexual instinct, andshares its barbarity: he lays before you also the greater gift of himself. Topursue his secret has something of the fascination of a detective story. It isa riddle which shares with the universe the merit of having no answer. The mostinsignificant of Strickland's works suggests a personality which is strange,tormented, and complex; and it is this surely which prevent seven those who donot like his pictures from being indifferent to them; it is this which hasexcited so curious an interest in his life and character.

It was not tillfour years after Strickland's death that Maurice Huret wrote that articlein theMercure de France which rescued the unknown painter from oblivion and blazedthe trail which succeeding writers, with more or less docility, have followed.For a long time no critic has enjoyed in France a more incontestable authority,and it was impossible not to be impressed by the claims he made; they seemedextravagant; but later judgments have confirmed his estimate, and thereputation of Charles Strickland is now firmly established on the lines whichhe laid down. The rise of this reputation is one of the most romantic incidentsin the history of art. But I do not propose to deal with Charles Strickland'swork except in so far as it touches upon his character. I cannot agree with thepainters who claim superciliously that the layman can understand nothing ofpainting, and that he can best show his appreciation of their works by silenceand a cheque-book.

It is a grotesquemisapprehension which sees in art no more than a craft comprehensible perfectlyonly to the craftsman: art is a manifestation of emotion, and emotion speaks alanguage that all may understand. But I will allow that the critic who has nota practical knowledge of technique is seldom able to say anything on thesubject of real value, and my ignorance of painting is extreme. Fortunately,there is no need for me to risk the adventure, since my friend, Mr. EdwardLeggatt, an able writer as well as an admirable painter, has exhaustivelydiscussed Charles Strickland's work in a little book(1) which is a charmingexample of a style, for the most part, less happily cultivated in England thanin France.

Maurice Huret inhis famous article gave an outline of Charles Strickland's life which was wellcalculated to whet the appetites of the inquiring. With his disinterested passionfor art, he had a real desire to call the attention of the wise to a talentwhich was in the highest degree original; but he was too good a journalist tobe unaware that the "human interest" would enable him more easily toeffect his purpose.

And when such ashad come in contact with Strickland in the past, writers who had known himinLondon, painters who had met him in the cafes of Montmartre, discovered to theiramazement that where they had seen but an unsuccessful artist, like another,authentic genius had rubbed shoulders with them there began to appear in themagazines of France and America a succession of articles, the reminiscences ofone, the appreciation of another, which added to Strickland's notoriety, andfed without satisfying the curiosity of the public. The subject was grateful,and the industrious Weitbrecht-Rotholz in his imposing monograph(2) has beenable to give a remarkable list of authorities.

The faculty formyth is innate in the human race. It seizes with avidity upon any incidents,surprising or mysterious, in the career of those who have at all distinguishedthemselves from their fellows, and invents a legend to which it then attaches afanatical belief. It is the protest of romance against the commonplace of life.The incidents of the legend become the hero's surest passport to immortality.The ironic philosopher reflects with a smile that Sir Walter Raleigh is moresafely in shrined in the memory of mankind because he se this cloak for theVirgin Queen to walk on than because he carried the English name toundiscovered countries.

老实说，我刚刚认识查理斯·思特里克兰德的时候，从来没注意到这个人有什么与众不同的地方，但是今天却很少有人不承认他的伟大了。我所谓的伟大不是走红运的政治家或是立战功的军人的伟大；这种人显赫一时，与其说是他们本身的特质倒不如说沾了他们地位的光，一旦事过境迁，他们的伟大也就黯然失色了。人们常常发现一位离了职的首相当年只不过是个大言不惭的演说家；一个解甲归田的将军无非是个平淡乏味的市井英雄。但是查理斯·思特里克兰德的伟大却是真正的伟大。你可能不喜欢他的艺术，但无论如何你不能不对它感到兴趣。他的作品使你不能平静，扣紧你的心弦。思特里克兰德受人挪揄讥嘲的时代已经过去了，为他辩护或甚至对他赞誉也不再被看作是某些人的奇行怪癖了。他的瑕疵在世人的眼中已经成为他的优点的必不可少的派生物。他在艺术史上的地位尽可以继续争论。崇拜者对他的赞颂同贬抑者对他的诋毁固然都可能出于偏颇和任性，但是有一点是不容置疑的，那就是他具有天才。

在我看来，艺术中最令人感兴趣的就是艺术家的个性；如果艺术家赋有独特的性格，尽管他有一千个缺点，我也可以原谅。我料想，委拉斯凯兹①是个比埃尔·格列柯②更高超的画家，可是由于所见过多，却使我们感到他的绘画有些乏味。而那位克里特岛画家的作品却有一种肉欲和悲剧性的美，仿佛作为永恒的牺牲似地把自己灵魂的秘密呈献出来。一个艺术家——画家也好，诗人也好，音乐家也好，用他的崇高的或者美丽的作品把世界装点起来，满足了人们的审美意识，但这也同人类的性本能不无相似的地方，都有其粗野狂暴的一面。在把作品奉献给世人的同时，艺术家也把他个人的伟大才能呈现到你眼前。探索一个艺术家的秘密颇有些阅读侦探小说的迷人劲儿。这个奥秘同大自然极相似，其妙处就在于无法找到答案。思特里克兰德的最不足道的作品也使你模糊看到他的奇特、复杂、受着折磨的性格；那些不喜欢他的绘画的人之所以不能对他漠不关心，肯定是因为这个原因。也正是这一点，使得那么多人对他的生活和性格充满了好奇心和浓厚的兴趣。

②   迪埃戈·罗德里盖斯·德·西尔瓦·委拉斯凯兹（1599—1660），西班牙画家。

②埃尔·格列柯（1541—1614？），西班牙画家，生于克里特岛。

直到思特里克兰德去世四年以后，莫利斯·胥瑞才写了那篇发表在《法兰西信使》上的文章，使这位不为人所知的画家不致湮没无闻。他的这篇文章打响了第一炮，很多怯于标新的作家这才踏着他的足迹走了下去。在很长一段时间内法国艺术评论界更没有哪个人享有比胥瑞更无可争辩的权威。胥瑞提出的论点不可能不给人以深刻的印象，看起来他对思特里克兰德的称许似乎有些过分，但后来舆论的裁决却证实了他评价的公正；而查理斯·思特里克兰德的声名便也在他所定的调子上不可动摇地建立起来了。思特里克兰德声名噪起，这在艺术史上实在是最富于浪漫主义味道的一个事例。但是我在这里并不想对查理斯·思特里克兰德的艺术作品有所评论，除非在这些作品涉及到画家性格的时候。我对某些画家的意见不敢苟同，他们傲慢地认为外行根本不懂得绘画，门外汉要表示对艺术的鉴赏，最好的方法就是免开尊口，大大方方地掏出支票簿。

老实讲，把艺术看作只有名工巧匠才能完全理解的艺术技巧，其实是一种荒谬的误解。艺术是什么？艺术是感情的表露，艺术使用的是一种人人都能理解的语言。但是我也承认，艺术评论家如果对技巧没有实际知识，是很少能作出真正有价值的评论的；而我自己对绘画恰好是非常无知的。幸而在这方面我无庸冒任何风险，因为我的朋友爱德华·雷加特先生既是一位写文章的高手，又是一位深有造诣的画家，他在一本小书里①对查理斯·思特里克兰德的作品已经作了详尽的探索；这本书的优美文风也为我们树立了一个典范。很可惜，这种文风今天在英国远不如在法国那么时兴了。

①《一位当代画家，对查理斯·思特里克兰德绘画的评论》，爱尔兰皇家学院会员爱德华·雷加特着，1917年马丁·塞克尔出版。（作者注）

莫利斯·胥瑞在他那篇驰名的文章里简单地勾画了查理斯·思特里克兰德的生平；作者有意这样吊一下读者的胃口。他对艺术的热情毫不搀杂个人的好恶，他这篇文章的真正目的是唤起那些有头脑的人对一个极为独特的天才画家的注意力。但是胥瑞是一个善于写文章的老手，他不会不知道，只有引起读者“兴味”的文章才更容易达到目的。

后来那些在思特里克兰德生前曾和他有过接触的人——有些人是在伦敦就认识他的作家，有些是在蒙特玛特尔咖啡座上和他会过面的画家——极其吃惊地发现，他们当初看作是个失败的画家，一个同无数落魄艺术家没有什么不同的画家，原来是个真正的天才，他们却交臂失之。从这时起，在法国和美国的一些杂志上就连篇累牍地出现了各式各类的文章：这个写对思特里克兰德的回忆，那个写对他作品的评述。结果是，这些文章更增加了思特里克兰德的声誉，挑起了、但却无法满足读者的好奇心。这个题目大受读者欢迎，魏特布瑞希特-罗特霍尔兹下了不少工夫，在他写的一篇洋洋洒洒的专题论文①里开列了一张篇目，列举出富有权威性的一些文章。

①《查理斯·思特里克兰德，生平与作品》，哲学博士雨果·魏特布瑞希特-罗特霍尔兹着，莱比锡1914年施威英格尔与汉尼施出版，原书德文。（作者注）

制造神话是人类的天性。对那些出类拔萃的人物，如果他们生活中有什么令人感到诧异或者迷惑不解的事件，人们就会如饥似渴地抓住不放，编造出种种神话，而且深信不疑，近乎狂热。这可以说是浪漫主义对平凡暗淡的生活的一种抗议。传奇中的一些小故事成为英雄通向不朽境界的最可靠的护照。瓦尔特·饶利爵士②之所以永远珍留在人们记忆里是因为他把披风铺在地上，让伊丽莎白女皇踏着走过去，而不是因为他把英国名字带给了许多过去人们从来没有发现的国土；一个玩世不恭的哲学家在想到这件事时肯定会哑然失笑的。

②瓦尔特·饶利爵士（1552？—1618），英国历史学家及航海家。