名篇背诵：On Getting on in the World 迈向成功

On Getting on in the World 迈向成功

J. K. 杰罗姆(J. K. Jerome)

Not exactly the sort of thing for an idle fellow to think about, is it? But outsiders, you know, often see most of the game; nod sitting in my arbour by the wayside, smoking my hookah of contentment, and eating the sweet lotus-leaves of indolence , I can look out musingly upon the whirling throng that rolls and tumbles past me on the great high road of life.

Never-ending is the wild procession. Day and night you can hear the quick tramp of the myriad feet — some running, some walking, some halting and lame; but all hastening, all eager in the feverish race, all straining life and limb and heart and soul to reach the ever-receding horizon of success.

Mark them as they surge along — men and women, old and young, gentle and simple, fair and foul, rich and poor, merry and sad — all hurrying, bustling, scrambling . The strong pushing aside the weak, the cunning creeping past the foolish; those behind elbowing those before; those in front kicking, as they run, at those behind. Look close, and see the flitting show! Here is an old man panting for breath; and there a timid maiden, driven by a hard and sharp-faced matron ; here is a studious youth, reading “How to Get on in the World,” and letting everybody pass him as he stumbles along with his eyes on his book; here is a bored-looking man, with a fashionably-dressed woman jogging his elbow; here a boy, gazing wistfully back at the sunny village that he never again will see; here, with a firm and easy step, strides a broad-shouldered man; and here, with stealthy tread , a thin-face, stooping fellow dodges and shuffles upon his way; here with gaze fixed always on the ground an artful rogue carefully works his way from side to side of the road, and thinks he is going forward; and here a youth with a noble face stands, hesitating as he looks from the distant goal to the mud beneath his feet.

Cheek by cheek, they struggle onward. Screaming, cursing, and praying, laughing, singing, and moaning, they rush past side by side. Their speed never slackens , the race never ends. There is no wayside rest for them, no halt by cooling fountains, no pause beneath green shades. On, on, on — on though the heat and the crowd and the dust — on, or they will be trampled down, and lost — on, with throbbing brain and tottering limbs — on, till the heart grows sick, and the eyes grow blurred, and a gurgling groan tells those behind they may close up another space.

And yet, in spite of the killing pace and the stony track, who, but the sluggard or the dolt, can hold aloof from the course? Who — like the belated traveller that stands watching fairy revels till he snatches and drains the goblin cup, and springs into the whirling circle — can view the mad tumult, and not be drawn into its midst? Not I, for one.

And fighting the battle of life is fighting against fearful odds, too. There are giants and dragons in every age, and the golden casket that they guard is not so easy to win as it appears in the story books. There, Algernon takes one long, last look at the ancestral hall, dashes the teardrop from his eye, and goes off — to return in three years' time, rolling in riches. The authors do not tell us “how it's done,” which is a pity, for it would surely prove exciting.

In this world, it is necessary to adopt the principle pursued by the plaintiff in an action for damages, and to demand ten times more than you are ready to accept. If you can feel satisfied with a hundred, begin by insisting on a thousand; if you start by suggesting a hundred, you will only get ten.

It was by not following this simple plan that poor Jean Jacques Rousseau came to such grief. He fixed the summit of his earthly bliss at living in an orchard with an amiable woman and a cow, and he never attained even that. He did get as far as the orchard, but the woman was not amiable, and she brought her mother with her, and there was no cow. Now, if he had made up his mind for a large country estate, a houseful of angels, and a cattle show, he might have lived to possess his kitchen garden and one head of live stock, and even possibly have come across a really amiable woman.

What a terribly dull affair, too, life must be for contented people! How heavy the time must hang upon their hands, and what on earth do they occupy their thoughts with, supposing that they have any? Reading the paper and smoking seems to be the intellectual food of the majority of them, to which the more energetic add playing the flute and talking about the affairs of the next-door neighbour.

They never know the excitement of expectation, nor the stern delight of accomplished effort, such as stir the pulse of the man who has objects, and hopes, and plans. To the ambitious man, life is a brilliant game — a game that calls forth all his tact and energy and nerve — a game to be won, in the long run, by the quick eye and the steady hand, and yet having sufficient chance about its working out to give it all the glorious zest of uncertainty. He exults in it, as the strong swimmer in the heaving billows, as the athlete in the wrestle, the soldier in the battle.

And if he be defeated, he wins the grim joy of fighting; if he lose the race, he, at least, has had a run. Better to work and fail, than to sleep one's life away.

So, walk up, walk up, walk up. Walk up, ladies and gentlemen! Walk up, boys and girls! Show your skill and try your strength; brave your luck, and prove your pluck. Walk up! The show is never closed, and the game is always going. Established in the year one, gentlemen, and been flourishing ever since!Walk up. Walk up, ladies and gentlemen, and take a hand. There are prizes for all, and all can play. There is gold for the man and fame for the boy; rank for the maiden and pleasure for the fool. For some few win, and as to the rest, why —

“The rapture of pursuing

Is the prize the vanquished gain.”

- arbour [ˈɑːbə] n. (路边的)树荫；凉亭

- hookah [ˈhʊkə] n. 水烟筒

the sweet lotus-leaves of indolence 催人欲睡的芳香荷叶

the whirling throng 芸芸众生

- scramble [ˈskræmbl] v. 攀登，仓促行动

- matron [ˈmeɪtrən] n. 女监护人

- stumble [ˈstʌmbl] v. 踌躇，蹒跚

- wistfully [ˈwɪstflɪ] ad. 渴望地，希望地

stealthy tread 曲背，背有点驼

- dodge [dɒdʒ] v. 东躲西闪

- shuffle [ˈʃʌfl] v. 曳足而行，拖着脚步(走)

- slacken [ˈslækən] n. 松弛，使缓慢

- plaintiff [ˈpleɪntɪf] n. 原告

- rapture [ˈræptʃə] n. 兴高采烈

这种事情不是真的让懒汉去思考的，不是吗？但是，你知道，旁观者往往看得最清；我打着盹儿坐在路边的凉棚里，快活地抽着小烟袋，懒洋洋地品尝着香甜的荷叶食品，我能够朝外看去，思考着人生道路上熙来攘往的众生，从我身旁滚滚而过。

疯狂的人群川流不息。无论白天还是夜晚，你都能听见数不清的急速沉重的脚步声——有的奔跑，有的步行，有的走走停停，有的拖着瘸腿，但全都行色匆匆，全都在狂热的生命历程中急不可耐，全都使出浑身解数，追赶着永不隐退的成功的地平线。

看看那汹涌向前的人流——男的女的，老的少的，儒雅的和单纯的，富有的和贫穷的，快乐的和痛苦的——全都急吼吼，闹哄哄，争前抢后。强者把弱者推向一旁，狡诈者蹑手蹑脚从愚笨者旁边走过，后面的人推着前面的人，前面的人一边跑，一边踢着后面的人。靠近些看，看看那变化不拘的人生百态！这儿是一个上气不接下气的老人；那儿是一个羞涩的少女，后面跟着一个严厉的冷面老女人；这儿是一个勤奋的青年，读着《怎样发迹》这本书，眼睛盯着书本，踉踉跄跄地走着，让每个人都先他而去；这儿是一个满脸烦恼的男人，身旁一个衣着时髦的女人挽着他的胳膊；那儿是一个男孩，恋恋不舍地回头望着洒满阳光的村庄，那村庄他再也看不到了；这儿，一个熊腰虎背的男人，迈着坚定而又轻松的脚步；那儿，一个脸庞瘦削、弓腰驼背的家伙，迈着小碎步，躲躲闪闪拖着脚往前走；这儿，一个诡诈的流氓，眼盯着地面，小心翼翼地来来回回从路的一边走到另一边，心想着是在往前走；那儿，站着一个面目清纯的青年，犹豫不定，张望着远处的目标，又看着脚下的烂泥。

他们推搡着，蜂拥着，匆匆往前走，尖叫着，咒骂着，祈祷着，大笑着，唱着，呻吟着。他们的速度从不放慢，生之历程从不止息。他们不去路边歇歇脚，凉爽的泉水旁也不停步，绿色的树荫下也不停留。走啊，走啊，走啊——冒着酷热，走在尘土飞扬的人流中——走啊，要不就会被人踩在脚下，一切完蛋——走啊，带着阵阵抽痛的头脑和蹒跚的双腿——走啊，直到心力衰竭，两眼昏花，喉管里发出的咕噜咕噜的呻吟告诉后面的人可以填补另一个空间了。

然而，尽管生命之旅中的步速令人精疲力竭，路上崎岖不平石头遍布，除了懒汉和傻瓜，谁又能置身事外而不卷入此途呢？谁——就像赶夜路的旅客，站着看小仙子们狂欢行乐，直到他抓起小妖精的杯子一饮而尽，跳入狂欢的漩涡中——能见此狂欢喧闹而不被吸引进去？我算一个，办不到。

人生之战也就是与可怕的命运和困难搏击。每个时代都有巨人猛龙，他们所守护的黄金宝藏，不像故事里写的那么容易夺得。瞧，阿尔杰农深情地看了宗祠最后一眼，挥去眼中的泪水，出发了——三年后回来了，腰缠万贯。作者没有告诉我们是怎么办到的，这很遗憾，因为那故事肯定会激动人心。

在这个世界上，有必要采用原告在诉讼中要求赔偿金所遵从的原则，要求十倍以上准备接受的赔偿。如果你觉得100英镑就满足了，开始时要坚持要1000英镑；如果你一开始提出要100英镑，你只能得10英镑。

正是由于没有遵从这个简单的方策，可怜的杰·雅克·卢梭才倒了大霉，他把自己人世间极乐的巅峰定在了一个果园里同一个可爱的、温柔的女人和一头母牛住在一起，就连这个他也从没能实现。他确实买到了果园，但女人不可爱，而且她把母亲也带来同住，也没有母牛。那么，如果他立志要弄到一个乡间大庄园，满屋子小天使，满院子母牛，他也许能活着拥有自己的菜园和一头牲畜，甚至可能会遇到一个真正可爱的女人。

生活对于自满的人也会是多么乏味无聊！他们手头上无法打发的时间该是多么沉重啊？假如他们肯动脑子的话，他们脑子里到底在想些什么呢？读读报纸，抽抽烟，似乎就是他们大多数人的精神食粮，精力更旺盛些的人还吹吹笛子，聊聊隔壁邻居的日常琐事。

他们从来没有体会过期待的兴奋，也不知道功成名就所带来的无比快乐，这些成就激发着胸怀大志者的心志，使他们满怀希望，向着目标奋进。对于有抱负的人来说，生活是一场色彩纷呈的游戏——一场要求他调动全部策略、精力和智慧的游戏——一切从长远看来，要凭敏锐的眼光、稳健的手才能赢的游戏，然而对于这场人生游戏的排兵布阵，也要有足够的机会，面对前途未卜、胜负悬而未决，满腔热情地来施展雄才大略。他乐在其中，在汹涌的波涛中击水，犹如摔跤的运动员和鏖战中的士兵。

如果他失败了，他赢得了残酷斗争的快乐；如果他在竞赛中输了，他至少曾经跑过。宁可干了失败，不愿昏睡终身。

因此，向前，向前，向前，向前，女士们，先生们！向前，少男少女们！拿出看家本领，展示你们的能力，正视命运，鼓起勇气。向前，人生这场演出永不谢幕，人生这场游戏永无休止。这场游戏在很久很久以前就确定下来了，此后一直兴盛不衰！向前，向前，女士们，先生们，来参赛吧。这场游戏人人可以玩，个个可以获得奖品。金牌归男子，荣誉属少男，品质归淑女，乐趣属痴愚。少数一些人赢了，其他人嘛——“追求的痴狂，就是失败者获取的奖杯”。

J. K. 杰罗姆(1859—1927)，英国小说家、剧作家。出身于斯塔福德郡穷苦人家。杰作《三人共舟》(Three Men in a Boat ，1889)是幽默作品，由结构松散的短篇构成，充满俚语。其续篇是《三人出游记》(Three Men on the Bunmel ，1900)。《四楼尽头的通道》(Passing of the Third Floor Back ，1907)是其著名剧作。

杰罗姆的一生中，他不仅是一位作家，还曾担任过铁路职员、教师、演员和新闻记者。1892年，他与人协力创办了插图月刊《闲暇者》（The Idler），1893年又创办了周报《当代》（The To-Day）。这些经历丰富了他的写作素材，使他的作品更加生动和贴近生活。