他从罪恶中救出来的那些人之所以得救，完全是因为他们生活中那些个美好的时刻。玛利亚看到耶稣时，就打破她七个情人中的一个送给她的玉瓶，将香膏抹在他跋涉劳顿，满是灰尘的脚上。就因为这一刻的缘故她得以永远与路得和贝雅特丽齐同坐在天堂的白玫瑰丛中。基督带点警告说给我们听的，全部就是每时每刻都得是美好的，灵魂要时刻准备好迎接基督如新郎般到来，时刻等待着那大爱之人的声音。平庸说穿了就是人性中不为想象照亮的那一边，他把生活中一切好的影响都看作各种方式的光：想象本身即是世界之光，世界就是用它造成的，可又理解不了它。这是因为想象说到底就是爱的一种表现，而是爱，是爱心的大小，把世人一个个区别开来[121a]。
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But it is when he deals with the Sinner that he is most romantic, in the sense of most real. The world had always loved the Saint[122a] as being the nearest possible approach to the perfection of God. Christ, through some divine instinct in him, seems to have always loved the sinner as being the nearest possible approach to the perfection of man. His primary desire was not to reform people, any more than his primary desire was to relieve suffering[122b]. To turn an interesting thief into a tedious honest man was not his aim. He would have thought little of the Prisoners’ Aid Society[122.1] and other modern movements of the kind. The conversion of a Publican into a Pharisee[122.2] would not have seemed to him a great achievement by any means. But in a manner not yet understood of the world he regarded sin and suffering as being in themselves beautiful, holy things, and modes of perfection[122c]. It sounds a very dangerous idea. It is so. All great ideas are dangerous. That it was Christ’s creed admits of no doubt[122d]. That it is the true creed I don’t doubt myself.
但是，在跟罪人打交道时他才显得最浪漫，在这个意义上说是最真实。世人向来喜爱基督[122a]，以此作为接近上帝至善至美的最佳快捷方式。而基督呢，因为内心某种神性的本能，却似乎向来喜爱罪人，以此作为接近人的至善至美的最佳快捷方式。他最根本的意愿，不在于改造世人，就像不在于解除痛苦[122b]。把一个有趣的盗贼变成一个乏味的君子可不是他的目的。“囚犯救援会”之类的现代运动，要是在耶稣看来就算不了什么。把一个税吏转化成一个道学先生，在他看来怎么也算不上是大功德。但他却以一种尚未被世人理解的方式，把犯罪与受罪都视为本身是美好、神圣的东西，视为达到至善至美的方式[122c]。这理念听起来非常危险。是很危险的。一切伟大的理念都是危险的。它是基督的教义，这一点不容置疑[122d]。它是天下真正的教义，这一点我本人不怀疑。
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Of course the sinner must repent. But why? Simply because otherwise he would be unable to realise what he had done. The moment of repentance is the moment of initiation. More than that. It is the means by which one alters one’s past. The Greeks thought that impossible. They often say in their gnomic aphorisms “Even the Gods cannot alter the past.” [123.1] Christ showed that the commonest sinner could do it. That it was the one thing he could do[123a]. Christ, had he been asked, would have said—I feel quite certain about it—that the moment the prodigal son fell on his knees and wept[123.2] he really made his having wasted his substance with harlots, and then kept swine and hungered for the husks they ate, beautiful and holy incidents in his life. It is difficult for most people to grasp the idea.I dare say one has to go to prison to understand it. If so, it may be worth while going to prison.
当然，罪人必须悔改。 可为什么呢？只因为不这样他无从领悟自己干下了什么。悔改的一刻便是新生的开始。不只这样。它是一个人改变自己的过去的手段。希腊人认为这是不可能的。他们的格言里常常说 “即使众神也无法改变过去。” 基督却显明了这连最下贱的罪人都办得到。这就是他们能做的一件事[123a]。要是有人问他，基督会说——我很肯定他会说的——当浪子下跪痛哭时，他这真的是让自己那为妓女散尽钱财、放猪而与猪争吃豆荚的作为，成为自己生活中美好神圣的往事。大多数人很难理解这一点。我敢说要进了监狱才能理解。果真这样的话，那监狱就值得一进了。123
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There is something so unique about Christ. Of course, just as there are false dawns before the dawn itself, and winter-days so full of sudden sunlight that they will cheat the wise crocus into squandering its gold before its time, and make some foolish bird call to its mate to build on barren boughs[124a], so there were Christians before Christ. For that we should be grateful. The unfortunate thing is that there have been none since. I make one Exception, St Francis of Assisi. But then God had given him at his birth the soul of a poet, and he himself when quite young had in mystical marriage taken Poverty as his bride; and with the soul of a poet and the body of a beggar he found the way to perfection not difficult. He understood Christ, and so he became like him. We do not require the Liber Conformitatum[124.1] to teach us that the life of St Francis was the true Imitatio Christi[124.2]: a poem compared to which the book that bears that name is merely prose. Indeed, that is the charm about Christ, when all is said. He is just like a work of art himself. He does not really teach one anything, but by being brought into his presence one becomes something. And everybody is predestined to his presence. Once at least in his life each man walks with Christ to Emmaus.[124.3]
基督很有他独一无二之处。 当然，在拂晓前会出现虚幻的假曙光，冬日里也不时地会冒出片片阳光，使聪明的藏红花受骗，时候未到便把金蕾吐尽，使傻小鸟上当，呼唤伴侣在秃枝上筑巢[124a]；同样，在基督之前也有基督徒的。对此我们应当心存感激。不幸的是自他之后基督徒便一个也没有了。我说有一个例外，就是阿西西的圣弗兰西斯。但上帝在他出生时又给了他诗人的灵魂，而他本人很年轻时也在神秘的联姻中娶了贫穷为妻；有着诗人的灵魂和乞丐的躯体，他觉得通往至善至美的路并不难走。他理解基督，于是就变得像他了。并不需要《认证书》来告诉我们圣弗兰西斯的生平是真正的“师法基督”：同《师法基督》这首诗相比，那本书不过是平淡的散文而已。的确，这说到底是基督的魅力所在。他本人就像是件艺术品。他用不着真的教人什么，人只要带到他跟前就有所成了。而每个人命中都注定要被带到他跟前的，一生中至少有一次要与基督同行到以马忤斯村。
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As regards the other subject, the relation of the artistic life to conduct, it will no doubt seem strange to you that I should select it. People point to Reading Gaol, and say “There is where the artistic life leads a man.” Well, it might lead one to worse places. The more mechanical people, to whom life is a shrewd speculation dependent on a careful calculation of ways and means, always know where they are going, and go there. They start with the desire of being the Parish Beadle, and, in whatever sphere they are placed, they succeed in being the Parish Beadle and no more. A man whose desire is to be something separate from himself, to be a Member of Parliament, or a successful grocer, or a prominent solicitor, or a judge, or something equally tedious, invariably succeeds in being what he wants to be. That is his punishment. Those who want a mask have to wear it[125a].
至于另一个主题，即艺术生命与为人处事的关系，无疑你听了会觉得奇怪，我怎么会选这个主题。人们指着雷丁监狱说，“艺术生命就把人带到这等地方。” 嗯，还可能带到更糟糕的地方去呢。对头脑较机械的人，生活是精明的算计，靠的是对各种利害得失的仔细计算，他们总是明白要去的地方，并朝那里走去。要是初衷是当个教区执事，那不管他们处身什么地位，成功当上教区执事就是。如果一个人的意愿是成为一个自己本身以外的什么，比如当个议员、生意发达的杂货商、出名的律师、或法官、或者同样无聊乏味的什么，总是能如愿以偿的。这就是他的惩罚。想要假面具的人就得戴上它[125a]。
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But with the dynamic forces of life, and those in whom those dynamic forces become incarnate, it is different. People whose desire is solely for self-realisation never know where they are going. They can’t know[126a]. In one sense of the word it is, of course, necessary, as the Greek oracle said, to know oneself.[126.1] That is the first achievement of knowledge. But to recognise that the soul of a man is unknowable is the ultimate achievement of Wisdom. The final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in a balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul? [126b] When the son of Kish went out to look for his father’s asses, he did not know that a man of God was waiting for him with the very chrism of coronation, and that his own soul was already the Soul of a King.[126.2] 但是生命里各种生机勃勃的活力，那些成为这些活力的化身的人们，就不同了。那些意愿只在自我实现的人，是从来不知道自己在往哪儿去的。他们无从知道[126a]。当然，在某个意义上说，就像古希腊的神谕所称的，有必要了解自己。这是第一步知识。但是认识到一个人的灵魂是不可知的，则是终极智慧。最终的秘密是人自己。即使称出了太阳的轻重，量出了月亮的圆缺，一颗星不漏地标出了九天的星图，还剩下个自己呢。谁算得出自己灵魂的轨道呢？基士的儿子出去为父亲找驴时，并不知道有个叫耶和华的人正拿着加冕的膏在等他，而他的灵魂已经成了王者的灵魂。
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I hope to live long enough, and to produce work of such a character, that I shall be able at the end of my days to say, “Yes: this is just where the artistic life leads a man.” Two of the most perfect lives I have come across in my own experience are the lives of Verlaine and of Prince Kropotkin:[127.1] both of them men who passed years in prison: the first, the one Christian poet since Dante, the other a man with the soul of that beautiful white Christ that seems coming out of Russia. And for the last seven or eight months, in spite of a succession of great troubles reaching me from the outside world almost without intermission, I have been placed in direct contact with a new spirit working in this prison through men and things, that has helped me beyond my possibility of expression in words; so that while for the first year of my imprisonment I did nothing else, and can remember doing nothing else, but wring my hands in impotent despair, and say “What an ending! What an appalling ending!” now I try to say to myself, and sometimes when I am not torturing myself do really and sincerely say, “What a beginning! What a wonderful beginning!” It may really be so. It may become so. If it does, I shall owe much to this new personality that has altered every man’s life in this place[127a].
我希望有生之年能写出这类作品，这样在生命的最后时刻就能够说，“是的，这正是艺术生命把人带到的地方。” 在我本人经验中所碰到的两个最为完美的生命，是魏尔伦和克鲁泡特金亲王，两个都是在监狱中度过许多年头的人了。第一位是自但丁之后仅有的基督诗人，另一位具有似乎是出自俄罗斯的那种美好的白人基督之魂。而最近七八个月来，尽管外界几乎不断地给我带来很大的烦恼，我却因为人和事的缘故直接认识了一个新来这监狱工作的人，他对我的帮助之大，难以用语言表达。因此，虽然在囚禁的第一年里，我什么事都没做，也记得是什么事都没做，整天只是在无奈的绝望中绞着双手，口里说着：“完了！全完了！”可现在我尽量要对自己说，而且在不那么自我折磨的时候还当真诚心诚意地说了：“重新开始！好好的重新开始！”也许真是这样。也许真会这样。果真这样的话，那么对这一位在这种地方改变了每一个人生活的新来的好人，我欠下他太多了[127a]。
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Things in themselves are of little importance, have indeed—let us for once thank Metaphysics for something that she has taught us—no real existence. The spirit alone is of importance. Punishment may be inflicted in such a way that it will heal, not make a wound, just as alms may be given in such a manner that the bread changes to a stone in the hands of the giver. What a change there is—not in the regulations, for they are axed by iron rule, but in the spirit that uses them as its expression—you can realise when I tell you that had I been released last May, as I tried to be, I would have left this place loathing it and every official in it with a bitterness of hatred that would have poisoned my life. I have had a year longer of imprisonment, but Humanity has been in the prison along with us all, and now when I go out I shall always remember great kindnesses that I have received here from almost everybody, and on the day of my release will give my thanks to many people and ask to be remembered by them in turn.
事物本身算不了什么，的确——这一次就谢谢形而上学教给我们的道理吧——事物本身并没有真实的存在。只有精神才是重要的。实施惩罚的方式可以使惩罚治愈、而非制造创伤，正如施舍的方式可以让面包在施舍者手中变成石头那样。这一变有多大啊——变的不是规则，因为规则是铁定的，而是通过规则所表达的精神——我给你说了你就明白，假如我在去年五月获释，本想争取这样的，那离开时便会对这里以及这里的每一个官员破口大骂，那份刻骨仇恨将毒化我的一生。我又多关了一年，但这一年里人道精神陪伴着狱中的每一个人。现在获释，我将永远记住在这儿受到的几乎是来自每个人的善待，出狱那天将向许多人道谢，也请他们同样把我记住。
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The prison-system is absolutely and entirely wrong. I would give anything to be able to alter it when I go out[129a]. I intend to try. But there is nothing in the world so wrong but that the spirit of Humanity, which is the spirit of Love, the spirit of the Christ who is not in Churches, may make it, if not right, at least possible to be borne without too much bitterness of heart.
监狱这一套是大错特错了。 出去后将尽我所能来想法改变它[129a]。我要试试。但是天下事不管错有多大，凭着人道的精神，也就是爱的精神、不在教堂里的基督的精神，都可以使它即便不能改正，至少也能叫人在身受时不会太咬牙切齿。
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I know also that much is waiting for me outside that is very delightful, from what St Francis of Assisi calls “my brother the wind” and “my sister the rain,” lovely things both of them, down to the shop-windows and sunsets of great cities. If I made a list of all that still remains to me, I don’t know where I should stop: for, indeed, God made the world just as much for me as for anyone else. Perhaps I may go out with something I had not got before. I need not tell you that to me Reformations in Morals are as meaningless and vulgar as Reformations in Theology. But while to propose to be a better man is a piece of unscientific cant, to have become a deeper man is the privilege of those who have suffered. And such I think I have become. You can judge for yourself.
我也知道，外面有许多非常令人愉快的东西在等着我，从阿西西的圣弗兰西斯所说的“风兄弟”和“雨姐妹”，他们的种种可爱之处，直到商店的橱窗和大城市的日落。 要是把还属于我的东西列成表，还真不知道要到哪儿才算完呢：真的，上帝造给我的世界同任何人的一样丰富。也许我出去时会带着以前没有过的什么。用不着对你说了，道德的改造对于我同神学的改造一样无聊庸俗。但是，虽说提出要做一个更好的人是句不科学的空话，成为一个更深刻的人﹐则是受过苦的那些人的特权。我想我是变深刻了。这你可以自行判断。
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If after I go out a friend of mine gave a feast, and did not invite me to it, I shouldn’t mind a bit. I can be perfectly happy[131a] by myself. With freedom[131b], books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy? Besides, feasts are not for me any more[131c]. I have given too many to care about them. That side of life is over for me, very fortunately I dare say. But if, after I go out, a friend of mine had a sorrow, and refused to allow me to share it, I should feel it most bitterly. If he shut the doors of the house of mourning against me I would come back again and again and beg to be admitted, so that I might share in what I was entitled to share. If he thought me unworthy, unfit to weep with him, I should feel it as the most poignant humiliation[131d], as the most terrible mode in which disgrace could be inflicted on me. But that could not be. I have a right to share in Sorrow, and he who can look at the loveliness of the world, and share its sorrow, and realise something of the wonder of both, is in immediate contact with divine things, and has got as near to God’s secret as anyone can get.
假如出去后，哪位朋友设宴而不请我，我一点也不会介意。 一个人我就可以快乐无边[131a]了。有了自由[131b]、书籍、鲜花，还有月亮，谁能不快乐呢？而且，宴饮也不再是我所喜欢的了[131c]。餐宴我举行过太多已经不为所动了。那方面的生活已经与我无关，我敢说这是非常幸运。但如果出去后，哪位朋友有了哀痛而不让我与他分担，那我就太难受了。如果他把我关在居丧之屋外头，那我会一次又一次第回去，求他放我进门，好分担我有权分担的。如果他认为我不配，不配与他同哭，那我会觉得这是奇耻大辱[131d]，再没有比这更可怕的羞辱了。但这是不可能的。我有权分担悲哀。能看着世界的可爱，又同时分担它的悲哀，并领悟两者的奇妙，这样的人已是直通神性，与上帝的真意再接近不过了。
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Perhaps there may come into my art also, no less than into my life, a still deeper note, one of greater unity of passion, and directness of impulse[132a]. Not width but intensity is the true aim of modern Art[132b]. We are no longer in Art concerned with the type. It is with the exception we have to do. I cannot put my sufferings into any form they took[132c], I need hardly say. Art only begins where Imitation ends. But something must come into my work, of fuller harmony of words perhaps, of richer cadences, of more curious colour-effect, of simpler architectural-order, of some aesthetic quality at any rate.
也许会有一种更为深刻的意旨，就像进入我的生命那样进入我的艺术，体现出更为宏大和谐的激情，更为磊落率真的冲动[132a]。不是广度而是烈度，才是现代艺术的真正目的所在[132b]。我们的艺术不再关注典型，我们要的是例外。我无法把所受的种种苦放进它们过去的任何形式中[132c]，这一点简直不用说了。模仿的结束才是艺术的开始。但必须有某种东西进入我的作品，也许是更完满的语言和谐，更丰富的节奏，更奇特的色彩效果，更简约的结构层次，不管怎么说是某种美学的素质。
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When Marsyas was “torn from the scabbard of his limbs”—dalla vagina delle membre sue, to use one of Dante’s most terrible, most Tacitean phrases —he had no more song, the Greeks said.[133.1] Apollo had been victor. The lyre had vanquished the reed. But perhaps the Greeks were mistaken. I hear in much modern Art the cry of Marsyas. It is bitter in Baudelaire, sweet and plaintive in Lamartine, mystic in Verlaine. It is in the deferred resolutions of Chopin’s music. It is in the discontent that haunts the recurrent faces of Burne-Jones’s women.[133.2] Even Matthew Arnold, whose song of Callicles[133.3] tells of “the triumph of the sweet persuasive lyre,” and the “famous final victory,” in such a clear note of lyrical beauty—even he, in the troubled undertone of doubt and distress that haunts his verse, has not a little of it.[133.4] Neither Goethe nor Wordsworth could heal him, though he followed each in turn, and when he seeks to mourn for “Thyrsis” or to sing of “the Scholar Gipsy,” [133.5] it is the reed that he has to take for the rendering of his strain. But whether or not the Phrygian Faun[133.6] was silent, I cannot be. Expression is as necessary to me as leaf and blossom are to the black branches of the trees that show themselves above the prison wall and are so restless[133a] in the wind. Between my art and the world there is now a wide gulf, but between Art and myself there is none. I hope at least that there is none.
