★Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill

★溫斯頓·倫納德·斯賓塞·丘吉爾

The fortunate people in the world--the only really fortunate people in the world， in my mind，are those whose work is also their pleasure. The class is not a large one， not nearly so large as it is often represented to be; and authors are perhaps one of the most important elements in its composition. They enjoy in this respect at least a real harmony of life. To my mind， to be able to make your work your pleasure is the one class distinction in the world worth striving for; and I do not wonder that others are inclined to envy those happy human beings who find their livelihood in the gay effusions of their fancy， to whom every hour of labor is an hour of enjoyment to whom repose--however necessary--is a tiresome interlude， and even a holiday is almost deprivation. Whether a man writes well or ill， has much to say or little， if he cares about writing at all， he will appreciate the pleasures of composition. To sit at one's table on a sunny morning， with four clear hours of uninterruptible security， plenty of nice white paper， and a Squeezer pen -- that is true happiness. The complete absorption of the mind upon an agreeable occupation -- what more is there than to desire? What does it matter what happens outside? The House of Commons may do what it like， and so may the House of Lords. The heathen may rage furiously in every part of the globe. The bottom may be knocked clean out of the American market. Consols may fall and suffragettes may rise. Never mind， for four hours， at any rate， we will withdraw ourselves from a common-ill-governed， and disorderly world， and with the key of fancy unlock that cupboard where all the good things of the infinite are put away.

And speaking of freedom is not the author free， as few men are free? Is he not secure， as few men are secure? The tools of his industry are so common and so cheap that they have almost ceased to have commercial value. He needs no bulky pile of raw material， no elaborate apparatus， no service of men or animals. He is dependent for his occupation upon no one but himself， and nothing outside him that matters. He is the sovereign of an empire， self-supporting， self-contained. No one can sequestrate his estates. No one can deprive him of his stock in trade; no one can force him to exercise his faculty against his will; no one can prevent him exercising it as he chooses. The pen is the great liberator of men and nations. No chains can bind， no poverty can choke， no tariff can restrict the free play of his mind， and even the \"Times\" Book Club can only exert a moderately depressing influence upon his rewards. Whether his work is good or bad， so long as he does his best he is happy. I often fortify myself amid the uncertainties and vexations of political life by believing that I possess a line of retreat into a peaceful and fertile country where no rascal can pursue and where one need never be dull or idle or ever wholly without power. It is then， indeed， that I feel devoutly thankful to have been born fond of writing. It is then， indeed， that I feel grateful to all the brave and generous spirits who， in every age and in every land， have fought to establish the now unquestioned freedom of the pen.

And what a noble medium the English language is. It is not possible to write a page without experiencing positive pleasure at the richness and variety， the flexibility and the profoundness of our mother-tongue. If an English writer cannot say what he has to say in English， and in simple English， depend upon it--it is probably not worth saying. What a pity it is that English is not more generally studied. I am not going to attack classical education. No one who has the slightest pretension to literary tastes can be insensible to the attraction of Greece and Rome. But I confess our present educational system excites in my mind grave misgivings. I cannot believe that a system is good， or even reasonable， which thrusts upon reluctant and uncomprehending multitudes of treasures which can only be appreciated by the privileged and gifted few. To the vast majority of boys who attend our public schools a classical education is from beginning to end one long useless， meaningless rigmarole. If I am told that classes are the best preparation for the study of English， I reply that by far the greater number of students finish their education while this preparatory stage is still incomplete and without deriving any of the benefits which are promised as its result.

And even of those who， without being great scholars， attain a certain general ac- quaintance with the ancient writers， can it really be said that they have also obtained the mastery of English? How many young gentlemen there are from the universities and public schools who can turn a Latin verse with a facility which would make the old Romans squirm in their tombs. How few there are who can construct a few good sentences， or still less a few good paragraphs of plain， correct， and straightforward English. Now， I am a great admirer of the Greeks， although， of course， I have to depend upon what others tell me about them， ——and I would like to see our educationists imitate in one respect， at least， the Greek example. How is it that the Greeks made their language the most graceful and compendious mode of expression ever known among men? Did they spend all their time studying the languages which had preceded theirs? Did they explore with tireless persistency the ancient root dialects of the vanished world? Not at all. They studied Greek. They studied their own language. They loved it， they cherished it， they adorned it， they expanded it， and that is why it survives a model and delight to all posterity. Surely we， whose mother-tongue has already won for itself such an unequalled empire over the modern world， can learn this lesson at least from the ancient Greeks and bestow a little care and some proportion of the years of education to the study of a language which is perhaps to play a predominant part in the future progress of mankind.

Let us remember the author can always do his best. There is no excuse for him. The great cricketer may be out of form. The general may on the day of decisive battle have a bad toothache or a bad army. The admiral may be seasick——as a sufferer I reflect with satisfaction upon that contingency. Caruso may be afflicted with catarrh， or Hackenschmidt with influenza. As for an orator， it is not enough for him to be able to think well and truly. He must think quickly. Speed is vital to him. Spontaneity is more than ever the hallmark of good speaking. All these varied forces of activity require from the performer the command of the best that is in him at a particular moment which may be fixed by circumstances utterly beyond his control. It is not so with the author. He need never appear in public until he is ready. He can always realize the best that is in him. He is not dependent upon his best moment in any one day. He may group together the best moments of twenty days. There is no excuse for him if he does not do his best. Great is his opportunity; great also is his responsibility. Someone -- I forget who -- has said:\"Words are the only things last for ever.\" That is， to my mind， always a wonderful thought. The most durable structures raised in stone by the strength of man， the mightiest monuments of his power， crumble into dust， while the words spoken with fleeting breath， the passing expression of the unstable fancies of his mind， endure not as echoes of the past， not as mere archaeological curiosities or venerable relics， but with a force and life as new and strong， and sometimes far stronger than when they were first spoken， and leaping across the gulf of three thousand years， they light the world for us today.

在我看來，世上幸運(yùn)的人—一惟一真正幸運(yùn)的人是那些以工作為樂的人。這類人并不多，起碼不如人們常說的那么多；并且，作家也許是其中最重要的組成部分之一。從幸運(yùn)這個角度來說，他們至少享受著生活中真正的和諧之樂。我覺得以工作為樂，是人們值得為之奮斗的一種崇高榮譽(yù)；別人會羨慕這些幸福的人，這也不足為奇，因?yàn)樗麄冊诳鞓返募で槔镎业搅松畹姆绞健λ麄兌?，工作一小時，也就是享受一小時，休息——甭管多么有必要——都是讓人厭煩的插曲，甚至連休假也差不多是一種損失。一個人寫得好壞與否，寫得或多或少，如果他喜愛寫作的話，就會享受其中謀篇布局的樂趣。在一個陽光明媚的清晨，伏案寫作，不受任何人打擾地坐上四個時辰，加上有足夠的上好白紙，還有一支“擠壓式”妙筆——這才是真正的幸福。能有一份愉快的職業(yè)讓人全身心地投入——此愿足矣!管它外面發(fā)生什么事!下院盡管做想干的一切，上院也可隨便。異教徒或許在世界各個角落怒火洶洶。美國市場大可一瀉千里，證券下跌；女權(quán)運(yùn)動興起——所有這些都別管，無論怎樣，我們有四個小時可以逃脫這無趣病態(tài)專制混亂的塵世，用想象的鑰匙開啟藏有大干世界所有寶物的櫥柜。

如果說作家沒有自由，那么又有幾個人是自由的?倘若他沒有安全感，又有幾人是安全的?作家的工具再普通不過了，極為廉價，幾乎沒有什么商業(yè)價值。他不需要龐大的原材料，不需要精密儀器，不需要別人鞍前馬后地服務(wù)。他的職業(yè)只靠自己，不靠任何人；只操心自己，任何事都無所謂。他就是一國之君，自給自立。沒有人能沒收他的資產(chǎn)；沒有人能剝奪他從業(yè)的資本；沒有人能強(qiáng)迫他把自己的才華施展在他不情愿的地方；沒有人能阻止他按自己的選擇發(fā)揮天賦。他的筆就是人類和各個民族的救世主。任何束縛都無法禁錮，任何貧困都阻擋不了，任何關(guān)稅也無法限制，他任憑思想自由馳騁，甚至“泰晤士圖書俱樂部”也只能對他的收獲有節(jié)制地施加打擊。只要盡力而為了，不管作品的結(jié)果是好是壞，他都會覺得很開心。我總相信在風(fēng)云變幻、令人頭疼的政治生涯中，有一條通向?qū)庫o富饒之地的退路，那是任何無賴都到達(dá)不了的地方，我永遠(yuǎn)不會感到失敗的沮喪，也永遠(yuǎn)不會空虛無聊，哪怕沒有權(quán)勢。的確，在那時，我虔誠地感謝自己生來就愛好寫作；在那時，我無比感激每個時代、每片疆土上的所有勇土，是他們做出的斗爭確立了現(xiàn)在寫作無可爭議的自由。

英語是一種多么高尚的語言!我們每寫下一頁，都沉浸在母語的柔韌靈活、博大精深為我們帶來的不容質(zhì)疑的喜悅中。如果一位英國作家，不能用練達(dá)的英語說出他必須說的話，那么那句話或許不值得說。倘若沒有深入研究英語，那是何等的憾事!我不是要攻擊古典教育。凡是自信對文學(xué)有點(diǎn)鑒賞力的人，都不可能漠視希臘文、羅馬文。但我得承認(rèn)，我深深地憂慮我國目前的教育制度。我難以相信這個制度是好的，甚至是合理的，因?yàn)樗阎挥猩贁?shù)特權(quán)人物和天才才能欣賞的東西，展示在不情愿接受又大惑不解的大眾面前。對大多數(shù)公學(xué)的學(xué)生來說，古典教育始終都是些冗長無用和沒有什么意義的陳詞濫調(diào)。如果有人告訴我，古典課程是學(xué)習(xí)英語的最好準(zhǔn)備，那我就回答說，迄今為止，大多數(shù)學(xué)生已完成學(xué)業(yè)，然而這個準(zhǔn)備階段仍然未完成，也沒有收獲任何預(yù)期的優(yōu)勢。

那些無緣成為大學(xué)者而又對古代作家有所了解的人，難道可以說他們已經(jīng)掌握了英語嗎？那些從大學(xué)和公學(xué)畢業(yè)的年輕人，有幾人能把一段拉丁詩文嫻熟地寫下來，足以讓墳?zāi)怪械墓帕_馬人為之動情!而能夠?qū)懗鰩仔羞B珠妙語的人就更少了，更不用說用英語簡潔練達(dá)地寫出幾個精彩的段落!不過，我倒是非常羨慕古希臘人——當(dāng)然我得聽別人講述他們的情形——我很樂意見到我們的教育家至少能在一個方面效仿古希臘人。古希臘人如何運(yùn)用自己的語言，使之成為人類迄今所知最高雅、最簡練的表達(dá)方式呢？他們是否用了畢生的時間學(xué)習(xí)在此之前的語言？他們是否不知疲倦地潛心研究某個已不復(fù)存在的世界里的原始方言了？根本沒有!他們只學(xué)習(xí)希臘語。他們學(xué)習(xí)自己的語言。他們熱愛它，珍惜它，修飾它，拓展它，因此，它才能得以延續(xù)，其楷模和樂趣供所有后人享用。毫無疑問，對我們來說，既然英語已經(jīng)為自己在現(xiàn)代世界里贏得了這般舉世無雙的地位，我們至少能從古希臘人那里吸取些訓(xùn)導(dǎo)，在多年的教育中稍微操點(diǎn)心，抽空去學(xué)習(xí)一種也許在人類未來發(fā)展中起到主導(dǎo)作用的語言。

讓我們記住了，作家永遠(yuǎn)可以發(fā)揮最大的努力。他找不出任何托辭不這樣做。板球明星也許會發(fā)揮失常。將軍在決戰(zhàn)之日也許會牙疼，也許他的部隊(duì)很糟糕。艦隊(duì)司令也可能會暈船——作為暈船者我滿意地想到了那意外?？斔骺赡軙谜衬ぱ?，哈肯施米特也會得流感。對于一位演說家來說，僅僅是想得好和想得正確是不夠的，他還得腦筋轉(zhuǎn)得快。速度至關(guān)重要：隨機(jī)應(yīng)變越來越成為優(yōu)秀演說家的標(biāo)志。所有這些活動都需要行動者在一個特定的時刻全心全意地付出，而無法掌控的各種事態(tài)也許決定著這一時刻。作家的情況就不需要這樣。他可以等到一切準(zhǔn)備就緒時再出場。他永遠(yuǎn)可以把他的最大潛能發(fā)揮出來。他并不依賴于自己在某一天的最佳時刻。他可以把二十天的最佳時刻攢起來。他沒有理由不盡最大的努力。等待他的機(jī)會多，賦予他的責(zé)任也很重大。有人說過這樣的話——我忘了是誰說的——“言語是惟一恒久的東西”。我以為這永遠(yuǎn)是絕妙的思想。人類用石塊壘起的如此堅(jiān)固的大廈，是人類力量最偉大的結(jié)晶，也可能會夷為平地，而那一閃而過的言辭，那思緒飛揚(yáng)時即逝的表達(dá)卻延續(xù)了下來，但它不是歷史的回音，不是純粹的建筑奇跡或令人肅然起敬的遺跡，但它的力量依舊強(qiáng)大，生命依舊鮮活，有時候遠(yuǎn)比當(dāng)初說出來的時候更加堅(jiān)強(qiáng)有力，它穿越了三千年的時光隧道，為生活在現(xiàn)在的我們照亮了世界。