去年读到的第一本毛姆的书，翻译李继宏。读来非常上瘾，第一次体验到了一个“非常会将故事的人”是怎样一种感觉，非常喜欢。所以我把这本书列为终身阅读的书中的一本，推荐给我的家人、朋友、同事、陌生人。

几乎同一段时间，我与麦格兰岛偶遇，其中有节选的部分原文及翻译如下，此部分可说是整本书的精华所在，觉得异常珍贵，故放在这里保存，并作笔记以便回顾，学习。

这部书是这样得名的：毛姆的作品《人性的枷锁》出版后，英国《泰晤士报文学增刊》如此评价该书主人公：“Like so many young men he was so busy yearning for the moon that he never saw the sixpence at his feet.” 毛姆很喜欢这种对梦想和现实的比拟方式，于是把“月亮与六便士”作为了之后一部作品的标题。

我们从书中节选了三段，分别是：“我”初识思特里克兰德时，思特里克兰德已经在巴黎自由生活时，以及对了解思特里克兰德足够多之后。 一生总有几部“必读书”。这就是其中一本。读它，读原文。

Part 1

 He was bigger than I expected. 他比我想象中的要高大一些。

I do not know why I had imagined him slender and of insignificant appearance; in point of fact he was broad and heavy, with large hands and feet, and he wore his evening clothes clumsily. 我不知道为什么我以前会认为他比较纤弱，貌不出众。实际上他生得魁梧壮实，大手大脚，晚礼服穿在身上有些笨拙。

 He gave you somewhat the idea of a coachman dressed up for the occasion. 给人的印象多少同一个装扮起来参加宴会的马车夫差不多。

 He was a man of forty, not good-looking, and yet not ugly, for his features were rather good; but they were all a little larger than life-size, and the effect was ungainly. 他年纪约四十岁，相貌谈不上漂亮，但也不难看，因为他的五官都很端正，只不过都比一般人大了一号，所以显得有些粗笨。

He was clean shaven, and his large face looked uncomfortably naked. 他的胡须刮得很干净，一张大脸光秃秃的让人看着很不舒服。

 His hair was reddish, cut very short, and his eyes were small, blue or grey. 他的头发颜色微红，剪得很短，眼睛比较小，是蓝色或者灰色的。

 He looked commonplace. 他的相貌很平凡。

 I no longer wondered that Mrs. Strickland felt a certain embarrassment about him; he was scarcely a credit to a woman who wanted to make herself a position in the world of art and letters. 我不再奇怪为什么思特里克兰德太太谈起他来总是有些不好意思了；对于一个想在文学艺术界取得一个位置的女人来说，他是很难给她增加光彩的。

 It was obvious that he had no social gifts, but these a man can do without; he had no eccentricity even, to take him out of the common run; 很清楚，他一点儿也没有社交的本领，但这也不一定是人人都要有的。他甚至没有什么奇行怪癖，使他免于平凡庸俗之嫌；

 he was just a good, dull, honest, plain man. 他只不过是一个忠厚老实、索然无味的普通人。

 One would admire his excellent qualities, but avoid his company. 别人可能会钦佩他的为人，却不愿意同他待在一起。

 He was null. 他是个可有可无的人。

 He was probably a worthy member of society, a good husband and father, an honest broker; but there was no reason to waste one's time over him. 他可能是一个令人起敬的社会成员，一个诚实的经纪人，一个恪尽职责的丈夫和父亲，但是在他身上你没有任何必要浪费时间。

Part 2

 I received the impression of a life which was a bitter struggle against every sort of difficulty; but I realised that much which would have seemed horrible to most people did not in the least affect him. 我的总印象是，这个人一直在同各式各样的困难艰苦斗争；但是我发现对于大多数人说来似乎是根本无法忍受的事，他却丝毫不以为苦。

 Strickland was distinguished from most Englishmen by his perfect indifference to comfort; it did not irk him to live always in one shabby room; he had no need to be surrounded by beautiful things. 思特里克兰德与多数英国人不同的地方在于他完全不关心生活上的安乐舒适。叫他一辈子住在一间破破烂烂的屋子里他也不会感到不舒服，他不需要身边有什么漂亮的陈设。

 I do not suppose he had ever noticed how dingy was the paper on the wall of the room in which on my first visit I found him. 我猜想他从来没有注意到我第一次拜访他时屋子的糊墙纸是多么肮脏。

He did not want arm-chairs to sit in; he really felt more at his ease on a kitchen chair. 他不需要有一张安乐椅，坐在硬靠背椅上他倒觉得更舒服自在。

 He ate with appetite, but was indifferent to what he ate; to him it was only food that he devoured to still the pangs of hunger; and when no food was to be had he seemed capable of doing without. 他的胃口很好，但对于究竟吃什么却漠不关心。对他说来他吞咽下去的只是为了解饥果腹的食物，有的时候断了顿儿，他好象还有挨饿的本领。

 I learned that for six months he had lived on a loaf of bread and a bottle of milk a day. 我得知他有六个月之久每天只靠一顿面包、一瓶牛奶过活。

 He was a sensual man, and yet was indifferent to sensual things. 他是一个耽于饮食声色的人，但对这些事物又毫不在意。

 He looked upon privation as no hardship. 他不把忍饥受冻当作什么苦难。

There was something impressive in the manner in which he lived a life wholly of the spirit. 他这样完完全全地过着一种精神生活，不由你不被感动。

 When the small sum of money which he brought with him from London came to an end he suffered from no dismay. 当他把从伦敦带来的一点钱花完以后，他也没有沮丧气馁。

 He sold no pictures; I think he made little attempt to sell any; he set about finding some way to make a bit of money. 他没有售卖自己的画作，我想在这方面他也没有怎么下过功夫；他开始寻找一些挣钱的门径。

 He told me with grim humour of the time he had spent acting as guide to Cockneys who wanted to see the night side of life in Paris. 他用自嘲的语气告诉我，有一段日子，他给那些想领略巴黎夜生活的伦敦佬当过向导。

 It was an occupation that appealed to his sardonic temper and somehow or other he had acquired a wide acquaintance with the more disreputable quarters of the city. 由于他惯爱嘲讽挖苦，这倒是一个投合他脾气的职业。他对这座城市的那些不体面的地区逐渐都熟悉起来。

 He told me of the long hours he spent walking about the Boulevard de la Madeleine on the look-out for Englishmen, preferably the worse for liquor, who desired to see things which the law forbade. 他告诉我他如何在马德莲大马路上一走几个小时，希望遇到个想看看法律所不允许的事物的英国老乡，最好是个带有几分醉意的人。

 When in luck he was able to make a tidy sum; but the shabbiness of his clothes at last frightened the sight-seers, and he could not find people adventurous enough to trust themselves to him. 如果运气好他就能赚一笔钱。但后来，他那身破烂衣服把想观光的人都吓跑了，他找不到胆子大到敢把自己交到他手里的冒险家了。

 Then he happened on a job to translate the advertisements of patent medicines which were sent broadcast to the medical profession in England. 这时由于偶然的机会，他找到了一个翻译专卖药广告的工作，这些药要在英国医药界推销，需要英语说明。

 During a strike he had been employed as a house-painter. 有一次赶上罢工，他甚至还当过粉刷房屋的油漆匠。

Meanwhile he had never ceased to work at his art; but, soon tiring of the studios, entirely by himself. 在所有这些日子里，他的艺术活动一直没有停止过。但是不久他就没有兴致到画室去了；他只关在屋子里独自埋头苦干。

 He had never been so poor that he could not buy canvas and paint, and really he needed nothing else. 因为一文不名，有时他连画布和颜料都买不起，而这两样东西恰好是他最需要的。

So far as I could make out, he painted with great difficulty, and in his unwillingness to accept help from anyone lost much time in finding out for himself the solution of technical problems which preceding generations had already worked out one by one. 从他的谈话里我了解到，他在绘画上遇到的困难很大，因为他不愿意接受别人指点，不得不浪费许多时间摸索一些技巧上的问题，其实这些问题过去的画家早已逐一解决完毕了。

 He was aiming at something, I knew not what, and perhaps he hardly knew himself; and I got again more strongly the impression of a man possessed. 他在追求一种我不太清楚的东西，或许连他自己也并不清楚。过去我有过的那种印象，这一次变得更加强烈了：他像是着了什么魔。 He did not seem quite sane. 他的心智好象不很正常。

 It seemed to me that he would not show his pictures because he was really not interested in them. 他不肯把自己的画拿给别人看，我觉得这是因为他对这些画实在不感兴趣。 He lived in a dream, and the reality meant nothing to him. 他生活在幻梦里，现实对他一点儿意义也没有。

 I had the feeling that he worked on a canvas with all the force of his violent personality, oblivious of everything in his effort to get what he saw with the mind’s eye. 我有一种感觉，他好象把自己的强烈个性全部倾注在一张画布上，在奋力创造自己心灵所见到的景象时，他把周围的一切事物全都忘记了。

And then, having finished, not the picture perhaps, for I had an idea that he seldom brought anything to completion, but the passion that fired him, he lost all care for it. 而一旦画完——或许并不是画幅本身，因为据我猜想，他是很少把一张画画完的，我是说他把一阵燃烧着他心灵的激情发泄完毕以后，他对自己画出来的东西就再也不关心了。

He was never satisfied with what he had done; it seemed to him of no consequence compared with the vision that obsessed his mind. 他对自己的画儿从来也不满意；同纠缠着他心灵的幻景相比，他觉得这些画实在太没有意义了。

“Why don’t you ever send your work to exhibitions?” I asked. “I should have thought you'd like to know what people thought about it.” “为什么你不把自己的画送到展览会上去呢？”我问他说，“我想你会愿意听听别人的意见的。”

 “Would you?” “你愿意听吗？”

 I cannot describe the unmeasurable contempt he put into the two words. 他说这句话时那种鄙夷不屑劲儿我简直无法形容。

“Don’t you want fame? It’s something that most artists haven’t been indifferent to.” “你不想成名吗？大多数画家对这一点还是做不到无动于衷的。”

 “Children. How can you care for the opinion of the crowd, when you don’t care twopence for the opinion of the individual?” “真幼稚。如果你不在乎某一个人对你的看法，一群人对你有什么意见又有什么关系？”

“We're not all reasonable beings,” I laughed. “我们并不是人人都是理性动物啊！”我笑着说。

 “Who makes fame? Critics, writers, stockbrokers, women.” “成名的是哪些人？是评论家、作家、证券经纪人、女人。”

“Wouldn’t it give you a rather pleasing sensation to think of people you didn’t know and had never seen receiving emotions, subtle and passionate, from the work of your hands? Everyone likes power. I can’t imagine a more wonderful exercise of it than to move the souls of men to pity or terror.” “想到那些你从来不认识、从来没见过的人被你的画笔打动，或者泛起种种遐思，或者感情激荡，难道你不感到欣慰吗？大家都喜爱权力。如果你能打动人们的灵魂，或者叫他们凄怆哀悯，或者叫他们惊惧恐慌，这不也是一种奇妙的行使权力的方法吗？”

“Melodrama.” “滑稽戏。”

“Why do you mind if you paint well or badly?” “那么你为什么对于画得好或不好还是很介意呢？”

“I don’t. I only want to paint what I see.” “我并不介意。我只不过想把我所见到的画下来。”

“You gave up a comfortable home and a life as happy as the average. You were fairly prosperous. You seem to have had a rotten time in Paris. If you had your time over again would you do what you did?” “你丢掉了舒适的家庭，放弃一般人过的那种幸福生活。你本来过得很不错。可是你现在在巴黎大概连饭都吃不饱。再叫你从头儿选择，你还愿意走这条路吗？”

“Rather.” “对。”

“Do you know that you haven’t asked anything about your wife and children? Do you never think of them?” “你知道，你根本没有打听过你的老婆和孩子。难道你从来没有想过他们吗？”

“No.” “没。”

“I wish you weren’t so damned monosyllabic. Have you never had a moment’s regret for all the unhappiness you caused them?” “我希望你别他妈的老说一个字。你给他们带来这么多不幸，难道你就一分钟也没有后悔过？”

 His lips broke into a smile, and he shook his head. 他咧开嘴笑了，摇了摇头。

 “I should have thought sometimes you couldn’t help thinking of the past. I don’t mean the past of seven or eight years ago, but further back still, when you first met your wife, and loved her, and married her. Don’t you remember the joy with which you first took her in your arms?” “我能想象得出，有时候你还是会不由自主地想起过去的。我不是说想起六七年以前的事，我是说更早以前，你和你妻子刚刚认识的时候，你爱她，同她结了婚。你难道就忘了第一次把她抱在怀里时心中的喜悦？”

 “I don’t think of the past. The only thing that matters is the everlasting present.” “我不想过去。对我说来，最重要的是永恒的现在。”

 I thought for a moment over this reply. 我琢磨了一会他这句答话的意思。

 It was obscure, perhaps, but I thought that I saw dimly his meaning. 也许他的语义很隐晦，但是我想我还是懂得他大概指的是什么了。

 “Are you happy?” I asked. “你快活吗？”我问。

 “Yes.” “是。”

 I was silent. I looked at him reflectively. 我没有说什么。我沉思地凝视着他。

 He held my stare, and presently a sardonic twinkle lit up his eyes. 他目不转睛地望着我，没过一会儿他的眼睛又闪烁起讥笑的光芒。

“I’m afraid you disapprove of me?” “我想你对我有点儿意见吧？”

“Nonsense,” I answered promptly; “I don’t disapprove of the boa-constrictor; on the contrary, I’m interested in his mental processes.” “瞎说，”我马上接口说，“我对蟒蛇的习性并不反对，相反地我对它的心理活动倒很感兴趣。”

 “It’s a purely professional interest you take in me?” “这么说来，你纯粹是从职业的角度对我发生兴趣啰？”

 “Purely.” “纯粹如此。”

“It’s only right that you shouldn’t disapprove of me. You have a despicable character.” “你不反对我是理所当然的，你的性格也实在讨厌。”

“Perhaps that’s why you feel at home with me,” I retorted. “也许这正是你同我在一起感到很自然的原故，”我反唇相讥。

 He smiled dryly, but said nothing. 他只干笑了一下，没说什么。

 I wish I knew how to describe his smile. 我真希望我能形容一下他笑的样子。

 I do not know that it was attractive, but it lit up his face, changing the expression, which was generally sombre, and gave it a look of not ill-natured malice. 我不敢说他的笑容多么好看，但是他一笑起来，脸就泛起光彩，使他平时总是阴沉着的面容改了样子，平添了某种刁钻刻薄的神情。

 It was a slow smile, starting and sometimes ending in the eyes; it was very sensual, neither cruel nor kindly, but suggested rather the inhuman glee of the satyr. 他的笑容来得很慢，常常是从眼睛开始也就消失在眼梢上。另外，他的微笑给人以一种色欲感，既不是残忍的，也不是仁慈的，令人想到森林之神的那种兽性的喜悦。

It was his smile that made me ask him: 正是他的这种笑容使我提出一个问题：

 “Haven’t you been in love since you came to Paris?” “你到巴黎以后，恋爱过吗？”

“I haven’t got time for that sort of nonsense. Life isn’t long enough for love and art.” “我没有时间干这种荒唐事。生命太短促了，没有时间既搞恋爱又搞艺术。”

“Your appearance doesn’t suggest the anchorite.” “你可不象过隐士生活的样子。”

 “All that business fills me with disgust.” “那些事叫我作呕。”

Part 3

I have an idea that some men are born out of their due place. 我认为，有些人没有生对地方。

 Accident has cast them amid certain surroundings, but they have always a nostalgia for a home they know not. 机缘把他们随便抛掷到一个环境中，而他们却一直思念着一处他们自己也不知道坐落在何处的家乡。

 They are strangers in their birthplace, and the leafy lanes they have known from childhood or the populous streets in which they have played, remain but a place of passage. 在出生的地方，他们像是过客；从孩提时代就非常熟悉的浓荫郁郁的小巷，同小伙伴游戏其中的人烟稠密的街衢，对他们说来都不过是旅途中的一个宿站。

 They may spend their whole lives aliens among their kindred and remain aloof among the only scenes they have ever known. 这种人在自己亲友中可能终生落落寡合，在他们唯一熟悉的环境里，也始终孑身独处。

 Perhaps it is this sense of strangeness that sends men far and wide in the search for something permanent, to which they may attach themselves. 也许正是在本乡本土的这种陌生感才逼着他们远游异乡，寻找一处永恒定居的寓所。

 Perhaps some deeprooted atavism urges the wanderer back to lands which his ancestors left in the dim beginnings of history. 说不定在他们内心深处仍然隐伏着多少世代前祖先的习性和癖好，叫这些彷徨者再回到他们祖先在远古就已离开的土地。

 Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs. 有时候一个人偶然到了一个地方，会神秘地感觉到这正是自己的魂之故乡。

 Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth. 这是他一直在寻找的家园；于是，他就在这些从未寓目的景物里，从不相识的人群中定居下来，倒好象这里的一切都是他从小就熟稔的一样。

 Here at last he finds rest. 在这里，他终于找到了宁静。

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