哥尔德斯密与艾迪生

William Makepeace Thackeray，1811—1863，was born in Calcutta，and is one of the most popular of English novelists，essayists，and humorists.While a boy，he removed from India to England，where he was educated at the Charterhouse in London，and at Cambridge.When twenty-one years of age，he came into possession of about 20，000 pounds.He rapidly dissipated his fortune，however，and was compelled to work for his living，first turning his attention to law and then to art，but finally choosing literature as his profession.He was for many years correspondent，under assumed names，at the “London Times，”“The New Monthly Magazine，”“Punch，”and “Fraser's Magazine.”His first novel under his own name，“Vanity Fair，”appeared in monthly numbers during 1846—1848，and is generally considered his finest production: although “Pendennis，”“Henry Esmond，”and“The Newcomes”are also much admired.His lectures on “English Humorists of the Eighteenth Century，”from which the following selections are taken，were delivered in England first in 1851，and afterwards in America，which he visited in 1852 and again in 1855—1856.During the latter visit，he first delivered his course of lectures on “The Four Georges，”which were later repeated in England.At the close of 1859，Thackeray became editor of the “Cornhill Magazine，”and made it one of the most successful serials ever pub-I ished.

1.GOLDSMITH

To be the most beloved of English writers，what a title that is for a man！A wild youth，wayward，but full of tenderness and affection，quits the country village where his boyhood has been passed in happy musing，in idle shelter，in fond longing to see the great world out of doors，and achieve name and fortune—and after years of dire struggle，and neglect，and poverty，his heart turning back as fondly to his native place as it had longed eagerly for change when sheltered there，he writes a book and a poem，full of the recollections and feelings of home；he paints the friends and scenes of his youth，and peoples Auburn and Wakefield with the remembrances of Lissoy.

Wander he must，but he carries away a home relic with him，and dies with it on his breast.His nature is truant；in repose it longs for change: as on the journey it looks back for friends and quiet.He passes to-day in building an air castle for to-morrow，or in writing yesterday's elegy；and he would fly away this hour，but that a cage，necessity，keeps him.What is the charm of his verse，of his style，and humor？His sweet regrets，his delicate compassion，his soft smile，his tremulous sympathy，the weakness which he owns？

Your love for him is half pity.You come hot and tired from the day's battle，and this sweet minstrel sings to you.Who could harm the kind vagrant harper？Whom did he ever hurt？He carries no weapon，save the harp on which he plays to you，and with which he delights great and humble，young and old，the captains in the tents，or the soldiers round the fire，or the women and children in the villages，at whose porches he stops and sings his simple songs of love and beauty.With that sweet story of “The Vicar of Wakefield”he has found entry into every castle and every hamlet in Europe.Not one of us，however busy or hard，but once or twice in our lives has passed an evening with him，and undergone the charm of his delightful music.

Ⅱ.ADDISON

We love him for his vanities as much as his virtues.What is ridiculous is delightful in him；we are so fond of him because we laugh at him so.And out of that laughter，and out of that sweet weakness，and out of those harmless eccentricities and follies，and out of that touched brain，and out of that honest manhood and simplicity—we get a result of happiness，goodness，tenderness，pity，piety；such as doctors and divines but seldom have the fortune to inspire.And why not？Is the glory of Heaven to be sung only by gentlemen in black coats？

When this man looks from the world，whose weaknesses he describes so benevolently，up to the Heaven which shines over us all，I can hardly fancy a human face lighted up with a more serene rapture；a human intellect thrilling with a purer love and adoration than Joseph Addison's.Listen to him: from your childhood you have known the verses；but who can hear their sacred music without love and awe？

“Soon as the evening shades prevail，

The moon takes up the wondrous tale，

And nightly to the listening earth

Repeats the story of her birth；

And all the stars that round her burn，

And all the planets in their turn，

Confirm the tidings as they roll，

And spread the truth from pole to pole.

“What though，in solemn silence，all

Move round this dark terrestrial ball；

What though no real voice nor sound

Among their radiant orbs be found；

In reason's ear they all rejoice，

And utter forth a glorious voice，

Forever singing，as they shine，

The Hand that made us is divine.”

It seems to me those verses shine like the stars.They shine out of a great，deep calm.When he turns to Heaven，a Sabbath comes over that man's mind；and his face lights up from it with a glory of thanks and prayers.His sense of religion stirs through his whole being.In the fields，in the town；looking at the birds in the trees；at the children in the streets；in the morning or in the moonlight；over his books in his own room；in a happy party at a country merrymaking or a town assembly，good will and peace to God's creatures，and love and awe of Him who made them，fill his pure heart and shine from his kind face.If Swift's life was the most wretched，I think Addison's was one of the most enviable.A life prosperous and beautiful—a calm death—an immense fame and affection afterwards for his happy and spotless name.

译文　TRANSLATION

威廉·梅克皮斯·萨克雷（1811—1863），出生于加尔各答，是英国最受欢迎的小说家、散文家、幽默作家。孩提时，他从印度回到英国。先后就读伦敦切特豪斯公学和剑桥大学。21岁时，他得到了大约两万英镑的遗产，但他很快就把这笔钱花掉了，因而，他不得不为生计奔波，他先从事法律，后又转向艺术，最终选择文学作为职业。很长一段时间，他以不同笔名为《泰晤士报》《新月刊》《潘趣》等杂志撰稿。他以本名发表的第一部小说《名利场》被认为是他最优秀的作品。萨克雷为人温文尔雅，作品中却颇有愤世嫉俗的意味。

1.哥尔德斯密

如论最受爱戴的英国作家，这一称号则非斯人莫属！青春年少时的他，放浪不羁而又柔情满怀，离开了儿时村庄，他曾在那慵懒的小屋中幸福地遐想，憧憬着外面的世界，希冀着声名与财富——经过多年的苦斗，忍受着漠视与贫穷，他的心踏上了归途，他是那么真挚地祈盼回家，就像当初是那样热切地渴望离开，他写了一本书、一首诗，字里行间盈满怀念与乡情；而伴着对莉萨的忆念，他描绘起昔日的朋友与青春的一幕幕景象，记述了奥本与威克菲尔德的人们。

他注定浪迹天涯，但胸前却总是戴着一个家乡的纪念物，终老不改。他生性疏懒；幽居时，希求变化；而在仆仆风尘中，却又每每回首找寻友人与安谧。或为明朝构筑空中楼阁，或为昨日撰写挽歌，而他的今天就这样消磨了；若非必要性的牢笼将他禁锢，此刻，他将高飞远举。他的诗章、风格与气度的魅力是什么？是他甜蜜的遗憾，纤细的悲悯，温柔的微笑，羞怯的同情，以及他的痴癖吗？

对他的爱中一半是同情。当摆脱了日间的纷扰，疲惫、焦躁的你来到他跟前，这位游吟诗人会为你甜美地歌唱。有谁会伤害这流浪的琴师？他又曾让谁伤过心？他没有武器，只有为你弹奏的竖琴；他用竖琴愉悦人们，无论贵贱，老幼，无论帐中的军官，还是篝火前的士兵，或是村中的妇孺，在她们的门廊前，流浪的歌者驻足、轻吟一阕素朴的爱与美的谣曲。甜美的《威克菲尔德牧师传》让哥尔德斯密走进欧洲每一个城堡与村落。不管多么忙碌、艰辛，我们在一生中，总有一两次会与他共度一个夜晚，领略他怡人的音乐。

2.艾迪生

我们爱他的美德也爱他的虚荣。荒谬在他身上化作欢愉；我们热爱他因为我们也一样讥讽他。从那欢快的笑声，从那亲切的嗜好，从那无害的怪癖与乖张，从那癫狂的大脑，从那正直的男儿气概与淳朴、率直中，我们领受了幸福、善良、温馨、怜爱与虔敬；而诸如那些博士与牧师却几乎无缘激发这种种情感，这又是为什么呢？上帝的荣光只能由那些身着黑袍的绅士们来礼赞吗？

他从此世翘首仰望天庭，上帝的光沐浴着他深情描摹的种种缺憾。我几乎不能想象人的容颜会为更宁静的欣喜照亮；人的知性会因更纯真的爱而战栗，除却约瑟夫·艾迪生。聆听吧，聆听这些你在孩提时就已诵读的诗章；谁能听到它们神圣的音乐而不击节叹赏？

当夕暮铺满天空，

一会儿，月亮讲起奇妙的故事，

每夜每夜，向着聆听的大地，

重述她出生的经历；

所有的星辰都在她周围燃烧，

所有的行星都运转在自己的轨道，

一边运行一边确认着消息，

将真理在两极间传递。

设若在这肃穆的沉静里，

一切都环绕那幽暗的星球运行

那又该如何；设若在那些熠熠的天球当中

找不到真正的歌声与琴音，那又该如何；

在理性的耳畔，他们欢唱，

一边闪耀，一边欢唱，永远欢唱，

创造我们的手是那么神奇。

就我而言，这些诗章像星辰一样耀眼。它们在博大、深邃的宁静中发光。当他求助上苍，安息莅临他的心田；他的容颜为祈祷与感恩的荣光辉耀。他的宗教情怀振奋了他整个的存在。原野，小镇，林间鸣啭的鸟儿，街上嬉戏的孩童，晨曦，月光，室内的书籍，乡间或市议会的欢聚，对上帝的造物的善意与平和，对造物主的爱与敬畏，盈满他纯真的心，辉映他和蔼的面容。如果斯威夫特的生活是凄惨的，我以为，艾迪生的生活则是最令人羡慕的。富足而美好——逝去得那样安详——而在身后，他幸福而无瑕的名字依然享有无尽的声望与爱戴。