All through my boyhood and youth, I was known as an idler; and yet I was always busy on my own private end, which was to learn to write. I kept always two books in my pocket, one to read, one to write in. As I walked, my mind was busy fitting what I saw with appropriate words; when I sat by the roadside, I would either read, or a pencil and a note-book would be in my hand, to note down the features of the scene or write some poor lines of verse. Thus I lived with words. And what I thus wrote was for no future use; it was written consciously for practice. It was not so much that I wished to be an author (though I wished that too) as that I had vowed that I would learn to write. That was a proficiency that tempted me; and I practiced to acquire it. Description was the principal field of my exercise; for to any one with scenes there is always something worth describing, and town and country are but one continuous subject. But I worked in other ways also; I often accompanied my walks with dramatic dialogues, in which I played many parts; and often exercised myself in writing down conversations from memory.
從我的童年到青年時期,大家一直把我看做一個游手好閑的人,其實我一直在為個人的目標(biāo)私下忙著,那就是練習(xí)寫作。我口袋里經(jīng)常帶著兩個本本,一本是讀的,一本是寫的。行走時,我忙于找適當(dāng)?shù)脑~句來表達(dá)我看到的事物。坐在路旁,我或者看書,或者拿出鉛筆和筆記本,記下所見景物的特點,或者寫幾行不像樣的詩句。我就這樣生活在詞語的天地里。這樣寫出來的東西并不是要留作將來之用,而是有意識地練習(xí)寫作。與其說我想做一個作家(雖說也有這種愿望),還不如說我曾經(jīng)發(fā)誓要學(xué)會寫作。寫作對我具有吸引力,我要通過練習(xí)來熟練地掌握它。練習(xí)的主要范圍是描寫,因為任何人只要有知覺,總有值得他描寫的東西,而城市和鄉(xiāng)村不過是可以經(jīng)常描寫的項目之一。不過我也采用其他練習(xí)方式。我時常一邊走路,一邊進(jìn)行戲劇的對話,在對話中我扮演好幾個角色。我也時常練習(xí)憑記憶把談話寫下來。
This was all excellent, no doubt. And yet this was not the most efficient part of my training. Good as it was, it only taught me the choice of the essential note and the right word. And regarded as training, it had one grave defect; for it set me no standards of achievement. So there was perhaps more profit, as there was certainly more effort, in my secret labours at home. Whenever I read a book or a passage that particularly pleased me, in which a thing was said or an effect rendered with propriety, in which there was either some conspicuous force or some happy distinction in the style, I must sit down at once and set myself to ape that quality. I was unsuccessful, and I knew it; and tried again, and was again unsuccessful and always unsuccessful; but at least in these vain bouts I got some practice in rhythm, in harmony, in construction and the coordination of parts. I have thus played the sedulous ape to Hazlitt, to lamb, to Wordsworth, to Defoe, To Hawthorne.
這樣練習(xí)無疑是很好的,但還不是我的訓(xùn)練中最有成效的部分。它好雖好,但只能教會我怎樣選擇基本的筆調(diào)和恰當(dāng)?shù)脑~語。作為訓(xùn)練,它有一個嚴(yán)重的缺點,因為它沒有給我規(guī)定成功的標(biāo)準(zhǔn)。相比之下,當(dāng)我在家里悄悄地工作時,也許收益更大,因為我肯定要做出更大的努力。每當(dāng)我讀到特別中意的書籍或段落,其中有某一件事說得恰到好處,收到恰如其分的效果,或者表達(dá)得特別有力,或者在風(fēng)格上有巧妙的特色,我非立即坐下來模仿這些特點不可。當(dāng)然不成功,我自己明白。再試一次,還是不成功,而且一直不成功。可是在這些失敗的嘗試中,我至少在韻律、勻稱、篇章結(jié)構(gòu)方面得到了練習(xí)的機(jī)會。我曾經(jīng)這樣依樣畫葫蘆地模仿赫茲里特、蘭姆、華茲華斯、笛福和霍桑。
That, like it or not, is the way to learn to write; whether I have profited or not, that is the way. It was so, if we could trace it out, that all men have learned. Perhaps I hear some one cry out: But this is not the way to be original! It is not; nor is there any way but to be born so. Nor yet, if you are born original, is there anything in this training that shall clip the wings of your originality. Burns is the very type of a most original force in letters, he was of all men the most imitative. Shakespeare himself proceeds directly from a school. It is only from a school that we expect to have good writers; it is almost invariably from a school that great writers issue. Nor is there anything here that should astonish the considerate. Before he can tell what cadences he truly prefers, the student should have tried all that are possible; before he can choose a fitting key of words, he should long have practiced the literary scales; and it is only after years of such exercises that he can sit down at last, legions of words swarming to his call, dozens of turns of phrase simultaneously bidding for his choice, and he himself knowing what he want to do and (within the narrow limit of a man’s ability) able to do it.
不管你喜歡不喜歡,這就是學(xué)習(xí)寫作的方法。無論我有沒有從中獲益,這就是方法。其實,追根究底,人人都是這樣學(xué)會寫作的?;蛟S會有人大聲反對:這種方法會使人失去獨創(chuàng)性!對,但也沒有任何方法會給你帶來獨創(chuàng)性,除非你天生如此。再說,假如你生而有獨創(chuàng)性,這種訓(xùn)練方法也不可能剪斷你獨創(chuàng)性的翅膀。彭斯可以說是文學(xué)上最富于獨創(chuàng)性的代表人物,他又偏偏是最善于模仿的。莎士比亞本人直接繼承了一個流派。只有繼承一個流派,我們才能希望產(chǎn)生優(yōu)秀作家。偉大作家?guī)缀蹩偸浅鲇谀骋涣髋?。仔?xì)想一想,這并不奇怪。一個學(xué)生只有試驗過一切可能試驗的曲調(diào),才說出他真正喜歡的曲調(diào);只有對文學(xué)的音階作過長期的練習(xí)之后,才能選擇最合適的詞句的琴鍵;只有在長年的練習(xí)之后,他才能最后坐定下來,那時就會有大批詞語召之即來,會有數(shù)十個有特色的措辭同時等他挑選,他本人也會知道應(yīng)該做些什么,并且在個人力所能及的范圍內(nèi)是能夠做到這一點的。