论出游On Going a Journey（1/2）

威廉·黑兹里特/ Willia Hazlitt

威廉·黑兹利特（1778—1830），英国散文家，评论家，画家。他曾从事过绘画，但是在柯尔雷基的鼓励下写出《论人的行为准则》，随后又写了更多的散文作品。1812年在伦敦当记者，并为《爱丁堡评论》撰稿。从其作品来看，他热衷于争论，擅长撰写警句，漫骂和讽刺性的文字。他最著名的散文集是《席间闲谈》和《时代精神》。

Acethe Hole

Uand these new phrases before you read this article.

1. brood upon：苦思

2. burst open:猛然打开

3. carry out:执行，实行；贯彻

4. cast down:使沮丧

One of the pleasahgsthe world is gog a journey; but I like to go by yself. Ienjoy societya roo; but out of doors, nature is pany enough for . I a then never less alohan when alone.

“The fields his study, nature was his book.”

I ot see the wit of walkg and talkg at the sa ti. When I athe untry I wish to vegetate like the untry. I a not for criticizg hedge-rows and bck cattle. I go out of townorder to fet the town and all that isit. There are those who for this purpose go to waterg-pces, and carry the tropolis with the. I like ore elbowroo and fewer cubrance. I like solitude, when I give yselfup to it, for the sake of solitude; nor do I ask for“a friendy retreat, Who I ay whisper solitude is sweet.”

The soul of a journey is liberty, perfect liberty, to thk, feel, do, jt as one pleases. We go a journey chiefly to be free of all ipedts and of all nvenieo leave ourselves behd, uch ore to get rid of others. It is becae I want a little breathg-space to e on different atters, where teption“May p her feathers a grow her gs, Thatthe vario btle of resort Were all too ruffled, and sotis ipaired,”that I absent yself fro the town for a while, without feelg at a loss the ont I a left by yself. Instead of a frienda post-chaise ora Tilbury, to exge good thgs with, and vary the sa stale ics a, for ohave a truce with ipertence. Givethe clear be sky over y head, and the greenturf beh y feet, a dg road before , and three hours’arch to dner—and then to thkg! It is hard if I ot start so ga on these lohs. I ugh, I run, I leap, I sg for joy. Fro the pot of yonder rollg cloud I po y past beg, and revel there, as the sun-burnt Indian pnges headlong to the wave that wafts hi to his native shore. Then long-fotten thgs, like“sunken wrad sureasuries,”burst upon y eager sight, and I beg to feel, thk, and be yself aga. Instead of an awkward silence, broken by attepts at wit or dull on-pces e is that undisturbed silence of the heart which alone is prefect eloqueno one likes puns, alliterations, antitheses, argunt, and analysis better than I do; but I sotis had rather be without the.“Leave, oh, leaveto y repose!”I have jt now other besshand, which would see idle to you, but is with “very stuff of the hat has so endeared it to , you would only sile. Had I not better the to yself, a serveto brood over, fro here to yonder craggy pot, and fro thenward to the far-distant horizon? I should be but bad pany all that way, and therefore prefer beg alone. I have heard it said that you ay, when the oody fit es on, walk or ride on by yourself, and dulge your receives. But this looks like a breach of anners, aof others, and you are thkg all the ti that you ought to rejo your party.“Out upon such half-faced fellowship,”say I . I like to be either eo yself, or entirely at the disposal of others; to talk or be silent, to walk or sit still, to be sociable or solitary. I leased with an observation of Mr. Cobbett’s, that he thought“it a bad French cto to drk our e with our als, and that an Englishan ought to do only ohg at a ti.”So I ot talk and thk, or dulgencholy g and lively ion by fits and starts.

“Lethave a panion of y way,”says Sterne,“Were it but to reark how the shadows lengthen as the sun decles.”It is beautifully said; but,y opion, this ntual parg of erferes with the vontary ipression of thgs upon the d, and hurts the sentt. If you only ht what you feela kd of dub show, it is sipid; if you have to exp it, it is akg a toil of a pleasure. You ot read the book of nature without beg perpetually put to the trouble of transtg it for the be of others. I a for this syical thod on a journeyprefereo the analytical. I a o ya stock of ideas then, and to exae and anatoise the afterwards. I want to see y vague notions float like the down of the thistle before the breeze, and not to have the entahe briars and thorns of ntroversy. For once, I like to have it all y own way; and this is ipossible unless you are alone, orsuch pany as I do not vet. I have no obje tue a pot with any one for enty iles of asured road, but not for pleasure. If you reark the st of a bean field crossg the road, perhaps your fellow-traveller has no sll. If you pot to a distant object, perhaps he is shhted, and has to take out his gss to look at it. There is a feelgthe air, a tohe lor of a cloud, which hits your fancy, but the effect of which you are uo aount for. There is then no sypathy, but an uneasy carvg after it, andadissatisfawhich pursues you on the way, andthe end probably produces ill-huor. Now I never quarrel with yself, and take all y own ns fraill I fd it necessary to defend then agast objes.

It is not rely that you ay not be of aord on the objects and circtahat present theselves before you—these ay recall a nuber of objects, ao associations too delicate and refed to be possibly unicated to others. Yet these I love to tation; and oher hand, to have to uhis ystery ofat every turn, and to ake others take an equal terestit (otherwise the end is not answered), is a task to which feetent. We t“give it an uandg, but no tongue.”My old friend Ce, however, uld do both. He uld go onthe ost delightful expnatory way over hill and dale a sur’s day anda ndscape to a didactic poe or a Pdaric ode.“He talked far above sgg.”If I uld so clothe y ideassoundg and flog words, I ight perhaps wish to have so ohto adire the swellg the; or I uld be ore , were it possible forstill to hear his echog voicethe woods of All-Fox-den. They had“that fe adnessthe which our first poets had”; and if they uld have been caught by so rare strunt, would have breathed such stas as the follog:

“Here be woods as green

As any, air likewise as fresh and sweet

As when sooth Zephyr pys on the fleet

Face of the curled streas, with flowers as any

As the young sprg gives, and as choice as any;

Here be all new delights, ol strea and wells,

Arbours rown with woodbe, caves and dells;

Choose where thou wilt, whilst I sit by and sg,

ather rhes to ake any a rg,

For the long fgers; tell thee tales of love,

How the pale Phoebe, huntga grove,

First saw the boy Endyion, fro whose eyes

She took eternal fire that never dies;

How she nvey’d hi softlya sleep

His teples bound with poppy, to the steep

Head of old Latos, where she stoops eaight,

Gildg the ounta with her brother’s light,

To kiss her sweetest.”

...

I have no obje to go to see r, aqueducts, pictures,pany with a friend or a party, but rather the ntrary, for the forr reason reserved. They are telligible atters, and will bear talkg about. The sentt here is not tacit, but unicable and overt.Salisbury P is barren of criticis, but Stonehenge will bear a dis antiquarian, picturesque, and philosophical. Ig out on a party of pleasure, the first ion always is where we shall go to,takg a solitary rable, the question is what we shall et with by the way.“The d is its own pce”; nor are we anxio to arrive at the end of our journey. Iyself do the honours differently well to works of art and curiosity. I oook a party to Oxford with no anéct—showed the that seat of the Mes at a distance,“With glisterg spires and pnacles adorn’d—”dested on the learned air that breathes fro the grassy quadrangles and stone walls of halls and lleges—was at hothe Bodleian; And at Blenhei quite superseded the powdered Cie that attended , and that potedva with his wand to onpce beautiesatchless pictures. As another exception to the above reasong, I should not feelventurg on a journeya fn untry without a panion. I should want at tervals to hear the sound of y own nguage. There is an vontary antipathythe d of an Englishan tn anners and notions that requires the assistance of social sypathy to carry it off. As the distance fro ho creases, this relief, which was at first a xury, bees a passion and an appetite. A person would alost feel stifled to fd hiselfthe deserts of Arabia without friends and untry be allowed to be sothgthe view of Athens or old Ro that cis the utterance of speech; and I own that the Pyraids are too ighty for any sgle ion. In such situations, so opposite to all one’s ordary tra of ideas, one sees a species by one’s self, a lib torn off fro society, unless o with stant fellowship and support.—Yet I did not feel this wantvery pressg once, when I first set y foot on the ughg shores of France. Cais eopled with y and delight. The nfe, by urur of the pce was like oil and e poured to y ears; nor did the arers’hyn, which was sung fro theof an old crazy vesselthe harbour, as the su down, send an alien sound to y soul. I only breathed the air of general huanity. I walked over“the ve-vered hills and gay regions of France,”ered satisfied; for the iage of an was not cast down and chaed to the foot of arbitrary thrones: I was at no loss fuage, for that of all the great schools of patg en to . The whole is vanished like a shade. Pictures, heroes, glory, freedos, all are fled, nothg reas but the Bourbons and the French people!—There is undoubtedly a sensationtravellg tn parts that is to be had nowhere else, but it is ore pleasg at the ti than stg. It is too reote fro our habitual associations to be a on ic of disurse or reference, and, like a drea or aate of existence, does not piece to our daily odes of life. It is an aniated but a ontary halter is not to be dosticated. Dr. Johnson rearked how little fn travel added to the facilities of ionthose who had been abroad. In fae, and o jo kdly on to it. We are not the sa, but another, and perhaps ore enviable dividual, all the ti we are out of our own untry. We are lost to ourselves, as well as our friend. So the poet sowhat quatly sgs,“Out of y untry and yself I go.”Those who wish to fet paful thoughts, do well to absent theselves for a while fro the ties and objects that recall the; but webe said only to fulfill our destythe pce that gavebirth. I should on this aount like well enough to spend the whole of y lifetravelg abroad, if I uld anywhere borrow another life to spend afterwards at ho!

参考译文

这世上最快乐的事情之一就是旅行，不过我喜欢独自出门。在房间里，我享受的是社会生活，但是在室外，大自然就是我最好的伙伴。虽然我是一个人，但我从不感到孤独。

“田野是书房，自然是书籍。”

我不认为边走边谈有多明智。置身于乡村田野，我希望自己像草木一样复得自然。我不是来挑剔灌木丛和黑牛的，我走出城市是为了忘却城市和城市中的一切。有的人或许也是因为这个目的来到海滨，却又随身带去了城市的喧闹。我向往世界有着博大的空间而没有世俗的牵绊。我喜欢独处，身在其中独享其乐，而不会去要求“于僻远处觅友，共话独居之乐”。

旅行的意义在于享受自由，无拘无束的自由。一个人让思想驰骋飞翔，尽情地做让自己愉快的事情。出行的目的就是摆脱困扰和担忧，放松自我，不再因为他人而顾虑重重。我需要放松一下自己，静静地思考一些事情。让思绪“插上健壮的翅膀自由放飞，在嘈杂的人群中，它们曾经受到伤害，变得凌乱”。于是我暂时把我自己从城市中解脱出来，即使独自一人也不觉得失落。比起与那些朋友寒暄，为某些陈旧的话题喋喋不休地谈论，我像这样一个人坐在驿车或轻便的马车里，头顶湛蓝的天空，脚踏翠绿的田野，悠然地行驶在蜿蜒的小路上，真的很愉快。饭前我有三个小时的时间可以散步，顺便思考一些问题！独自享受这些美好的东西，我的心中强烈地涌动着一股喜悦。我情不自禁地大笑，愉快地奔跑，纵情高歌。天边云层翻滚，我陷入对往事的回忆之中，我是多么欣喜呀，就像久经烈日烤晒的印第安人一头扎进浪涛里，让大浪带他回到故乡的海岸。多少尘封往事，犹如“沉没的船只和无数的宝藏”涌现在我热切的眼中。我重温那时的所感所想，似乎回到儿时。我所说的沉默不是死气沉沉，不需要时不时刻意地加点喧闹的气氛，而是一种能抵御外界干扰的内心的安宁。这沉默本身就是最有力的雄辩。没有人比我更喜欢使用双关语、头韵、对仗、辩论和分析，但有时我宁愿撇开它们。“啊，别打扰我，让我独自享受宁静吧！”此时我还有其他事情要做，也许这些事情对你来说无关紧要，但却是我“所期待已久的”。一朵野玫瑰难道只有得到人们的称赞才能证明它有芳香吗？这朵翠绿的雏菊不已经植入我的心底了吗？我对你们解释这些在我看来值得珍惜的事物时，你们可能会笑话我，因此我把这一切掩埋在我心里，供我平日里冥想，让思绪从这里飞到远处的悬崖峭壁，再从那里飞向更遥远的地平线的另一端，不是更美妙吗？也许我不是某种意义上的好旅伴，因此我还是愿意独自旅行。我听说当你闷闷不乐时，也会独自出门或策马前行，沉浸在想象之中。但是你却认为这样做是违背礼节的，很没有礼貌，因此你总在想要不要回到朋友当中，而我却要说：“不要再伪装这种虚假的友谊了。”我喜欢要么完全是自己支配自己，要么完全由别人来支配自己；要么高谈阔论，要么沉默不语；要么散步或静坐，要么活跃或独处。我很同意考柏特先生的见解，他认为“法国人的一个坏习惯是一边吃饭一边喝酒，而英国人则应该在一个时间里专注于做一件事情。”因此我不能边谈话边思考，或因为太放纵自己的情绪导致时而忧心忡忡，时而情绪激昂、滔滔不绝。

“让我有个同行的伴，”斯特恩说，“哪怕只是聊聊太阳下山时影子怎么拉长也行。”这是一种很完美的说法，但我的观点是，反复地交换意见会破坏我们对事物最初最本质的印象，从而让思维变得很杂乱，假如你用一种哑语的方式表达自己的感受，那就真的是索然无味；假如你不得不解释一番，那么本要来享受的事物就变成了苦差。在阅读“自然”这本书时，为了使别人能弄明白，你不得不经常翻译它，给自己带来很多麻烦。所以，对于旅行，我倾向于用综合法而不是分析法，我喜欢储存一大堆想法，然后慢慢地解析研究。我希望能看着那些不清晰的想法像花絮一样飞舞在空中，而不是在一群矛盾的荆棘丛中纠缠不清。这一次，我要按照自己的方式做事情。这种情况只有独自一人时才能实现，或者是和我并不奢求在一起的一些人合作。我并不反对与朋友算好二十英里路程，然后边走边聊，但这么做绝不是兴趣所在。你对同伴说路旁的豆田散发着扑鼻的香气，可是他的嗅觉不太灵敏；当你评论远处的美景时，你的朋友或许是个近视眼，他得先戴上眼镜；当你感觉空气中蕴涵着某种情调，云朵的颜色很别致，所有这些让你陶醉，而这种感觉却无法对他言传。因此你们无法产生共鸣，而最后以至于你兴致大跌，只剩下一种幻想达成共鸣的渴望和不满的情绪。我现在已经不再和自己争吵，并且把我所有的结论都看做是理所当然，除非有人提出反对意见，这时我才认为有必要为我的观点辩护。

这不仅仅是因为你们对眼前的事物或环境持有不同的意见，而且是因为它们会引起你对很多往事的回忆，引起一些只能意会无法言传的奇思妙想。然而我却很珍爱它们，当我远离人群时，我甚至会深情地拥抱它们。让我们的感情在老朋友面前放纵显得有些牵强，同时，随时随地向人们披露这一人类的奇异，并引发他人的兴趣（否则就没有达到目的），这项艰巨的工作很难有人能承担。我们应该“领悟它，但是别说出来”。但是，我的老朋友柯勒律治能同时做到这两点。夏天在山林里漫步，他可以一边兴奋地口若悬河，滔滔不绝，一边又能把这种美景写进一篇有教育意义的诗歌中，或者写成一篇朴实无华的颂歌。“他说出来比唱出来都好听。”假如我也能够流利而又有文采地表达自己的想法，只怕我也希望身边也有一个同伴来和我一起颂扬那刚刚展开的话题。又或者说，只要我能听到他那依旧回**在山林中的声音我就会更加心满意足。这些诗人身上都含有“我们早期的诗人才有的纯朴的狂妄”，如果把他们的诗歌用一种稀有

的乐器演奏出来，他们就会吟唱如下的旋律：

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