It is otherwise with the artist.
Confronted by the same enigmatical spectacle the artist descends15 within himself, and in that lonely region of stress and strife16, if he be deserving and fortunate, he finds the terms of his appeal. His appeal is made to our less obvious capacities: to that part of our nature which, because of the warlike conditions of existence, is necessarily kept out of sight within the more resisting and hard qualities — like the vulnerable body within the steel armour17. His appeal is less loud, more profound, less distinct, more stirring — and sooner forgotten. Yet its effect endures for ever. The changing wisdom of successive generations discards ideas, questions facts, demolishes18 theories. But the artist appeals to that part of our being which is not dependent on wisdom: to that in us which is a gift and not an acquisition — and, therefore, more permanently19 enduring. He speaks to our capacity for delight and wonder, to the sense of mystery surrounding our lives; to our sense of pity, and beauty, and pain; to the latent feeling of fellowship with all creation — and to the subtle but invincible20, conviction of solidarity21 that knits together the loneliness of innumerable hearts: to the solidarity in dreams, in joy, in sorrow, in aspirations22, in illusions, in hope, in fear, which binds23 men to each other, which binds together all humanity — the dead to the living and the living to the unborn.
It is only some such train of thought, or rather of feeling, that can in a measure explain the aim of the attempt, made in the tale which follows, to present an unrestful episode in the obscure lives of a few individuals out of all the disregarded multitude of the bewildered, the simple and the voiceless. For, if there is any part of truth in the belief confessed above, it becomes evident that there is not a place of splendour or a dark corner of the earth that does not deserve, if only a passing glance of wonder and pity. The motive24, then, may be held to justify25 the matter of the work; but this preface, which is simply an avowal26 of endeavour, cannot end here — for the avowal is not yet complete.
Fiction — if it at all aspires to be art — appeals to temperament27. And in truth it must be, like painting, like music, like all art, the appeal of one temperament to all the other innumerable temperaments28 whose subtle and resistless power endows passing events with their true meaning, and creates the moral, the emotional atmosphere of the place and time. Such an appeal, to be effective, must be an impression conveyed through the senses; and, in fact, it cannot be made in any other way, because temperament, whether individual or collective, is not amenable29 to persuasion30. All art, therefore, appeals primarily to the senses, and the artistic31 aim when expressing itself in written words must also make its appeal through the senses, if its high desire is to reach the secret spring of responsive emotions. It must strenuously32 aspire2 to the plasticity of sculpture, to the colour of painting, and to the magic suggestiveness of music — which is the art of arts. And it is only through complete, unswerving devotion to the perfect blending of form and substance; it is only through an unremitting, never-discouraged care for the shape and ring of sentences that an approach can be made to plasticity, to colour; and the light of magic suggestiveness may be brought to play for an evanescent instant over the commonplace surface of words: of the old, old words, worn thin, defaced by ages of careless usage.
The sincere endeavour to accomplish that creative task, to go as far on that road as his strength will carry him, to go undeterred by faltering33, weariness or reproach, is the only valid34 justification for the worker in prose. And if his conscience is clear, his answer to those who, in the fulness of a wisdom which looks for immediate35 profit, demand specifically to be edified36, consoled, amused; who demand to be promptly37 improved, or encouraged, or frightened, or shocked, or charmed, must run thus:— My task which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel — it is, before all, to make you see. That — and no more, and it is everything. If I succeed, you shall find there according to your deserts: encouragement, consolation38, fear, charm — all you demand; and, perhaps, also that glimpse of truth for which you have forgotten to ask.
To snatch in a moment of courage, from the remorseless rush of time, a sapping phase of life is only the beginning of the task. The task approached in tenderness and faith is to hold up unquestioningly, without choice and without fear, the rescued fragment before all eyes and in the light of a sincere mood. It is to show its vibration39, its colour, its form; and through its movement, its form, and its colour, reveal the substance of its truth — disclose its inspiring secret: the stress and passion within the core of each convincing moment. In a single-minded attempt of that kind, if one be deserving and fortunate, one may perchance attain13 to such clearness of sincerity40 that at last the presented vision of regret or pity, of terror or mirth, shall awaken41 in the hearts of the beholders that feeling of unavoidable solidarity; of the solidarity in mysterious origin, in toil43, in joy, in hope, in uncertain fate, which binds men to each other and all mankind to the visible world.
It is evident that he who, rightly or wrongly, holds by the convictions expressed above cannot be faithful to any one of the temporary formulas of his craft. The enduring part of them — the truth which each only imperfectly veils — should abide44 with him as the most precious of his possessions, but they all: Realism, Romanticism, Naturalism, even the unofficial sentimentalism (which, like the poor, is exceedingly difficult to get rid of); all these gods must, after a short period of fellowship, abandon him — even on the very threshold of the temple — to the stammerings of his conscience and to the outspoken45 consciousness of the difficulties of his work. In that uneasy solitude46 the supreme47 cry of Art for Art, even, loses the exciting ring of its apparent immorality48. It sounds far off. It has ceased to be a cry, and is heard only as a whisper, often incomprehensible, but at times, and faintly, encouraging.
Sometimes, stretched at ease in the shade of a roadside tree, we watch the motions of a labourer in a distant field, and after a time, begin to wonder languidly as to what the fellow may be at. We watch the movements of his body, the waving of his arms, we see him bend down, stand up, hesitate, begin again. It may add to the charm of an idle hour to be told the purpose of his exertions49. If we know he is trying to lift a stone, to dig a ditch, to uproot50 a stump51, we look with a more real interest at his efforts; we are disposed to condone52 the jar of his agitation53 upon the restfulness of the landscape; and even, if in a brotherly frame of mind, we may bring ourselves to forgive his failure. We understood his object, and, after all, the fellow has tried, and perhaps he had not the strength, and perhaps he had not the knowledge. We forgive, go on our way — and forget.
And so it is with the workman of art. Art is long and life is short, and success is very far off. And thus, doubtful of strength to travel so far, we talk a little about the aim — the aim of art, which, like life itself, is inspiring, difficult — obscured by mists. It is not in the clear logic54 of a triumphant55 conclusion; it is not in the unveiling of one of those heartless secrets which are called the Laws of Nature. It is not less great, but only more difficult.
To arrest, for the space of a breath, the hands busy about the work of the earth, and compel men entranced by the sight of distant goals to glance for a moment at the surrounding vision of form and colour, of sunshine and shadows; to make them pause for a look, for a sigh, for a smile — such is the aim, difficult and evanescent, and reserved only for a very few to achieve. But sometimes, by the deserving and the fortunate, even that task is accomplished56. And when it is accomplished — behold42! — all the truth of life is there: a moment of vision, a sigh, a smile — and the return to an eternal rest.
点击收听单词发音
1 aspires | |
v.渴望,追求( aspire的第三人称单数 ) | |
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2 aspire | |
vi.(to,after)渴望,追求,有志于 | |
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3 humbly | |
adv. 恭顺地,谦卑地 | |
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4 justification | |
n.正当的理由;辩解的理由 | |
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5 underlying | |
adj.在下面的,含蓄的,潜在的 | |
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6 illuminating | |
a.富于启发性的,有助阐明的 | |
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7 plunges | |
n.跳进,投入vt.使投入,使插入,使陷入vi.投入,跳进,陷入v.颠簸( plunge的第三人称单数 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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8 hazardous | |
adj.(有)危险的,冒险的;碰运气的 | |
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9 authoritatively | |
命令式地,有权威地,可信地 | |
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10 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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11 cultivation | |
n.耕作,培养,栽培(法),养成 | |
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12 attainment | |
n.达到,到达;[常pl.]成就,造诣 | |
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13 attain | |
vt.达到,获得,完成 | |
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14 glorification | |
n.赞颂 | |
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15 descends | |
v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 );下去;下降;下斜 | |
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16 strife | |
n.争吵,冲突,倾轧,竞争 | |
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17 armour | |
(=armor)n.盔甲;装甲部队 | |
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18 demolishes | |
v.摧毁( demolish的第三人称单数 );推翻;拆毁(尤指大建筑物);吃光 | |
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19 permanently | |
adv.永恒地,永久地,固定不变地 | |
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20 invincible | |
adj.不可征服的,难以制服的 | |
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21 solidarity | |
n.团结;休戚相关 | |
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22 aspirations | |
强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 ); 志向; 发送气音; 发 h 音 | |
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23 binds | |
v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 );装订;捆绑;(用长布条)缠绕 | |
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24 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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25 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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26 avowal | |
n.公开宣称,坦白承认 | |
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27 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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28 temperaments | |
性格( temperament的名词复数 ); (人或动物的)气质; 易冲动; (性情)暴躁 | |
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29 amenable | |
adj.经得起检验的;顺从的;对负有义务的 | |
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30 persuasion | |
n.劝说;说服;持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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31 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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32 strenuously | |
adv.奋发地,费力地 | |
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33 faltering | |
犹豫的,支吾的,蹒跚的 | |
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34 valid | |
adj.有确实根据的;有效的;正当的,合法的 | |
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35 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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36 edified | |
v.开导,启发( edify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37 promptly | |
adv.及时地,敏捷地 | |
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38 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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39 vibration | |
n.颤动,振动;摆动 | |
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40 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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41 awaken | |
vi.醒,觉醒;vt.唤醒,使觉醒,唤起,激起 | |
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42 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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43 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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44 abide | |
vi.遵守;坚持;vt.忍受 | |
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45 outspoken | |
adj.直言无讳的,坦率的,坦白无隐的 | |
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46 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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47 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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48 immorality | |
n. 不道德, 无道义 | |
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49 exertions | |
n.努力( exertion的名词复数 );费力;(能力、权力等的)运用;行使 | |
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50 uproot | |
v.连根拔起,拔除;根除,灭绝;赶出家园,被迫移开 | |
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51 stump | |
n.残株,烟蒂,讲演台;v.砍断,蹒跚而走 | |
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52 condone | |
v.宽恕;原谅 | |
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53 agitation | |
n.搅动;搅拌;鼓动,煽动 | |
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54 logic | |
n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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55 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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56 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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