（翻译和评论）The Monster 怪物
2014-07-15 23:22阅读：
此文的翻译，是个挑战，需要花费不少功夫。终于完成，非常高兴。这是一篇很特别的文章，大家读后，会感到真是不寻常！文笔非常优美，构思十分巧妙。
THE MONSTER
怪物
By Deems Taylor
（狄姆斯 泰勒著）
He was an undersized little
man, with a head too big
for his body -- a sickly
little man. His nerves were
bad. He had
skin trouble. It was agony
for him to wear anything
next to his skin coarser
than silk. And he had
seclusions of grandeur.
此人是个小个子，头大身体小，是个病怏怏的矮子。他神经兮兮，还有皮肤病。内衣只能穿丝织品，否则便会让他他痛苦不堪。可他偏偏狂妄自大。
He was a monster of
conceit. Never for one minute
did he look at the
world or at people, except
in relation to himself. He
was not only the most
important person in the world,
to himself; in his own
eyes he was the only
person who existed. He believed
himself to be one of the
greatest dramatists in the
world, one of the greatest
thinkers, and one of the
greatest composers. To hear him
talk, he was Shakespeare, and
Beethoven, and Plato, rolled
into one. And you would
have had no difficulty in
hearing him talk. He was
one of the most exhausting
conversationalists that ever lived.
An evening with him was
an evening spent in listening
to a monologue. Sometimes he
was brilliant; sometimes he was
maddeningly tiresome. But whether
he was being brilliant or
dull, he had one sole
topic of conversation: himself.
What he thought and what
he did.
他是自负的怪物。要是与己无关，他绝不正眼瞥一下这个世界或人们。他自以为他不仅是世上最重要的人物，而且是唯一在世的人。他坚信自己是世上最伟大的戏剧家之一，最了不起的思想家之一，还是最顶尖的作曲家之一。听他的口气，自己简直是莎士比亚，贝多芬和柏拉图的“三合一”了。要听他讲话可不难。他是有史以来最令人精疲力竭的交谈者。和他待一个晚上就是听他唱独角戏一个晚上。他时而精彩纷呈，时而乏味得让人发疯。但无论他的话精彩也好，乏味也罢，说话的主题只有一个：他本人，他所思他所为。
He had a mania for being
in the right. The slightest
hint of disagreement, from
anyone, on the most trivial
point, was enough to set
him off on a harangue
that might last for
hours, in which
he proved himself right in
so many ways, and with
such exhausting volubility, that
in the end his hearer,
stunned and deafened, would
agree with him, for the
sake of peace.
他有一种癖好，自己永远正确。任何人即使露出最轻微的异议暗示，即使是最微不足道的看法，就足以使他把对方高声训斥几个小时。期间，为了证明自己正确，采用多种方法，口若悬河，滔滔不绝。最终，听者目瞪口呆，耳朵差点被震聋，为了息事宁人，只好向他低头。
It never occurred to him
that he and his doing
were not of the most
intense and fascinating interest
to anyone with whom he
came in contact. He had
theories about almost any
subject under the sun, including
vegetarianism, the drama, politics,
and music; and in support
of these theories he wrote
pamphlets, letters, books … thousands upon
thousands of words, hundreds and
hundreds of pages. He not
only wrote these things, and
published them -- usually at
somebody else's expense -- but
he would sit and read
them aloud, for hours, to
his friends and his
family.
他从未意识到，在和他人交往中，他的作为既非算是热情，也引不起对方任何兴趣。天下万事，比如素食主义，戏剧，政治和音乐，他几乎都有一套套的理论来解释。为了支持自己的论点，他写小册子，写信，写书，写成千上万的字，写满成百上千页纸。他不仅写，还让别人花钱出版。而他自己则坐下来，对着朋友和家人大声朗读好几个小时，也不厌倦。
He wrote operas, and no
sooner did he have the
synopsis of a story, but
he would invite -- or
rather summon -- a crowd
of his friends to his
house, and read it aloud
to them. Not for criticism.
For applause. When the complete
poem was written, the friends
had to come again, and
hear that read aloud. Then
he would publish the poem,
sometimes years before the music
that went with it was
written. He played the piano
like a composer, in the
worst sense of what that
implies, and he would sit
down at the piano before
parties that included some of
the finest pianists of his
time, and play for them,
by the hour, his own
music, needless to say. He
had a composer's voice. And
he would invite eminent
vocalists to his house and
sing them his operas, taking
all the parts.
他写歌剧。一旦有了故事的轮廓，他便马上邀请，或不如说是召集大批朋友们来到家中，大声读给他们听。读不是为了听批评，而是要人家唱赞歌。当诗歌全部完工，朋友们还得再来，再听他高声朗诵。接下来他就出版，有时候过了好几年，配套的乐曲才写出来。他像作曲家那样弹奏钢琴，水平难以恭维。在当时最优秀的钢琴家到场的聚会上，他大大咧咧坐在钢琴边，一个又一个小时，弹奏给他们听。尽管他嗓子不怎么样，可还要唱。他会邀请最杰出的歌唱家到家里来，自己扮演各种角色，把歌剧唱给他们听。
He had the emotional stability
of a six-year-old child. When
he felt out of sorts, he
would rave and stamp, or
sink into suicidal gloom and
talk darkly of going to
the East to end his days
as a Buddhist wonk. Ten
minutes later, when something
pleased him, he would rush
out of doors and run
around the garden, or jump
up and down on the sofa,
or stand on his head. He
could be grief-stricken over the
death of a pet dog, and
he could be callous and
heartless to a degree that
would have made a Roman
emperor shudder.
他的感情，有如六岁儿童那样容易波动。当他不顺心时，便胡言乱语，乱蹬乱踢，沉溺于自杀的忧郁，威胁要去东方当个和尚了此一生。可十分钟后，有什么开心事，他会冲出大门，在花园里乱跑，在沙发上跳跃不停，还会来个倒立。他的宠物狗死了，他会痛心疾首。可他要是冷酷无情起来，连罗马皇帝都得打个寒战。
He was almost innocent of
any sense of responsibility. Not
only did he seem incapable
of supporting himself, but it
never occurred to him that
he was under any obligation
to do so. He was
convinced that the world owed
him a living. In support
of this belief, he borrowed
money from everybody who was
good for a loan -- men,
women, friends, or strangers. He
wrote begging letters by the
score, sometimes groveling without
shame, at other loftily offering
his intended benefactor the
privilege of contributing to his
support, and being mortally
offended if the recipient
declined the honor. I have
found no record of his
ever paying or repaying money
to anyone who did not
have a legal claim upon
it.
他几乎没有任何责任感。他不仅没有能力养活自己，甚至连自己有义务谋生的念头也根本没有。他坚信，世界欠他个人情，得养活他。为支持这个信念，他向任何可以借钱的人借钱，男人，女人，朋友，陌生人，一概不论。写起请求施舍的信来，以几十封计，卑躬屈膝，厚颜无耻。对于他心目中的资助者，他赐予他们的特权，即有资格提供资助。要是收信人居然婉拒那样的荣誉，他会暴跳如雷。但我发现，对于没有留下法律依据的资助者，找不到他还钱的记录。
What money he could lay
his hands on he spent
like an Indian rajah. The
mere prospect of a performance
of one of his operas was
enough to set him to
running up bills amounting to
ten times the amount of
his prospective royalties. No
one will ever know --
certainly he never knew --
how much money he owed.
We do know that his
greatest benefactor gave him
$6,000 to pay the most
pressing of his debts in
one city, and a year
later had to give him
$16,000 to enable him to
live in another city without
being thrown into jail for
debt.
只要他捞到了钱，就像印度国王般，花钱如流水。不过演一场歌剧的初步打算，开销账单上的钱会达到他丰厚版税十倍的财富。他欠了多少钱，没人知道，当然他自己也没有数。我们只知道他最大的恩主给了他6000美元，来支付在一个城里欠下的最紧迫的债务。而一年之后，又不得不给他16000美元，使他能够住在另一个城市，而不至于因欠债被关进监狱。
He was equally unscrupulous in
other ways. An endless
procession of women marched
through his life. His first
wife spent twenty years enduring
and forgiving his infidelities.
His second wife had been
the wife of his most
devoted friend and admirer, from
whom he stole her. And
even while he was trying
to persuade her to leave
her first husband he was
writing to a friend to
inquire whether he could suggest
some wealthy woman -- any
wealthy woman -- whom he
could marry for her
money.
在其它方面，他也同样放荡不羁。他一辈子纠缠的女人不计其数。他的第一任妻子，忍受并原谅他的不忠达20年之久。他第二任妻子，原来是他最忠诚的朋友和崇拜者的妻子，他夺人所爱。更离谱的是，当他想方设法说服那位女士离开自己的第一个丈夫时，他居然给朋友写信，询问对方是否能够帮他找到富婆，只要是富婆就行，他和对方结婚就是为了钱。
He was completely selfish in
his other personal relationships.
His liking for his friends
was measured solely by the
completeness of their devotion
to him, or by their
usefulness to him, whether
financial or artistic. The
minute they failed him --
even by so much as
refusing dinner invitation -- or
began to lessen in usefulness,
he cast them off without
a second thought. At the
end of his life he had
exactly one friend left whom
he had known even in
middle age.
在人际关系方面，他自私之极。他对于朋友的取舍，完全取决于朋友对于他的忠实程度，或者是在金钱或艺术上对他的有用程度。一旦他们辜负了他，即使是不请他吃饭，或者用处减少那样的小事，他不假思索便一脚踢开。在他死时只剩一个朋友，这个朋友还是在他中年时才认识的。
The name of this monster
was Richard Wagner. Everything
that I have said about
him you can find on
record -- in newspapers, in
police reports, in the testimony
of people who knew him,
in his own letters, between
the lines of his autobiography.
And the curious thing about
this record is that it
doesn't matter in the
least.
这个怪物的名字叫理查德
瓦格纳。我提到他的事情，都有案可查，报纸上，警方报告里，认识他的人的证词里，他自己的信里，他自传的字里行间等都有。可这些记录的古怪之处是，它们完全不起作用。
Because this undersized, sickly,
disagreeable, fascinating little man
was right all the time.
The joke was on us. He
was one of the world's
greatest dramatists; he was a
great thinker; he was one
of the most stupendous musical
geniuses that, up to now,
the world has ever seen.
The world did owe him a
living.
因为这个小个子，病怏怏，让人讨厌，又让人入迷的矮子，一直都没有错。这玩笑只能落到我们自己身上。他是有史以来世上最伟大的戏剧家之一，了不起的思想家，最顶尖的音乐天才之一。这世界的确得养活他。
When you consider what he
wrote -- thirteen operas and
music dramas, eleven of them
still holding the stage, eight
of them unquestionably worth
ranking among the world's great
musico-dramatic masterpieces -- when
you listen to what he
wrote, the debts and heartaches
that people had to endure
from him don't seem much
of a price. Think of the
luxury with which for a
time, at least, fate rewarded
Napoleon, the man who ruined
France and looted Europe; and
then perhaps you will agree
that a few thousand dollars'
worth of debts were not
too heavy a price to pay
for the Ring trilogy.
想一想他写下的作品--十三部歌剧和音乐剧，其中十一部依然在上演，其中八部可以毫无疑问名列世界伟大音乐戏剧经典。当你聆听他的作品，人们当时不得不忍受他的债务和痛苦所付出的代价就不值一提了。至少，想一想拿破仑，他曾经统治法国，劫掠欧洲，可命运却赐予他如此奢华。也许你就不会反对，区区几千美元的债务，对于《尼伯龙根指环三部曲》那样的经典，付出的代价实在很小。
What if he was faithless
to his friends and to his
wives? He had one mistress
to whom he was faithful
to the day of his death:
Music. Not for a single
moment did he ever compromise
with what he believed, with
what be dreamed. There is
not a line of his music
that could have been conceived
by a little mind. Even
when he is dull, or
downright bad, he is dull
in the grand manner. There
is greatness about his worst
mistakes. Listening to his
music, one does not forgive
him for what he may or
may not have been. It is
not a matter of forgiveness.
It is a matter of being
dumb with wonder that his
poor brain and body didn't
burst under the torment of
the demon of creative energy
that lived inside him,
struggling, clawing, scratching to
be released; tearing, shrieking
at him to write the music
that was in him. The
miracle is that what he
did in the little space
of seventy years could have
been done at all, even by
a great genius. Is it any
wonder that he had no
time to be a man?
他对朋友和妻子的不忠又如何呢？他有一位至死不渝的爱人：音乐。他对于自己的信仰，自己的梦想，始终如一。他的音乐，没有一行是平庸之辈可以设想的。即使他乏味，表现很糟，但他的乏味也有伟大之处。他最糟糕的错误也孕育着不凡。听他的音乐，人们并不会原谅他的所作所为。因为这已经不是原谅的问题了。那是一种惊讶到无可名状的境界。他可怜的大脑和身躯，拼命挣扎，使劲抓挠，意图解脱，向着他撕咬尖叫，让他写出心里的音乐，竟然没有在创造力之神魔的折磨下从里面迸发出来。在短短的70年时间里，他做到了即使是伟大的天才也难以做到的事，真是奇迹。他没有时间做个普通人，有什么好奇怪的呢？
评论：
对于天才，有没有宽容之心，是衡量一个社会是否健康的一个重要指标。音乐家，如瓦格纳，莫扎特，贝多芬等，是非常奇特的人物。画家，如梵高，也很古怪。科学家，如普林斯顿大学的数学家约翰纳什，曾经是妄想型精神分裂症患者。这样的天才，自然很难用普通人的标准来衡量他们，对待他们。如果我们的社会没有极大的宽容，天才可能因此毁灭。
那些对于瓦格纳不离不弃的朋友和妻子，之所以能够容忍他的糟糕行为，应该是他们能够识别他是个天才，真正为他的伟大作品而倾倒。一个优点和缺点同样突出的人，在今天的社会上，大家往往只看到他的缺点，而优点却被视而不见。因此，他们是很难生存的。我们总是主张中庸，出头的椽子必然先烂，哪里还能容得下天才？只有做武大郎才能过日子。运气好的话，日子也许还过得相当滋润呢。可惜，国家的发展就千难万难了。
