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“事情会多多少少向坏的方面发展。”迪斯雷利曾悲哀地说。这么表述的话，这个想法确实不令人宽慰。虽然事情也确实可能往好的方面发展，但更多时候，很多努力都白费了，毫无结果。这种糟糕的情况会延续几周到几个月，当时似乎没有任何解决办法，到后来只留下淡淡的回忆、混乱的画面和深深的惋惜。
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如果有人曾经历过难以承受的挫折或痛苦，而后这些经历变成了模糊的过去，那么这个人将更有力量面对痛苦。“那是不幸带来的力量，”浪漫的青年会说，“一种由冷漠和怀疑构成的力量。我不要这种力量，让我软弱和痛苦吧。”
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这个年轻人错了。那些成熟的男女并没有变得冷漠。即使在恋爱中，他们也知道激情转瞬即逝；这种认识使得他们对爱情的感受更敏锐，更强烈。“第二次爱情最悲伤，”歌德曾说，“但第三次爱情来临时，会抚慰并弥补前两次爱情的遗憾。”
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我在这里谈的不仅仅是个人问题和个人忧伤。在政治生活中，也是如此。那些拉长着脸的先知，预言各种不幸的发生，扰乱了那些没有生活经验的年轻人的心。同样，如果再年长几岁，生活会教导我们，很多事情随着时间推移和环境变化，自己会理顺自己。一位睿智的意大利老外交官过去常对他身边的年轻人说：“永远不要说‘这很严重’。六十年来，我一直听见人们说事情非常严重。”
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事实上，人生在世，有哪件事情不严重呢？做人、活着、坚持，都很严重。尽管如此，正如那位意大利外交官所说，生活也非常简单，非常美丽。这也是不容置疑的，因为生命已经延续了上百万年了。
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“空洞的乐观主义论调。”有人会说。在当前的悲愁中，“将来就好了”的想法并不能带给我们多少安慰。但生活本身教给我们用更积极的方法治疗伤痛。我们学会了怎么摆脱最痛苦的时刻。离开伤心地，痛苦就可以得到医治。逃到二十英里以外……想有一段时间不用看到那些伤害我们的人……一点一点地，那些痛苦的记忆就慢慢消退了。更好的一点是，即使不离开伤心地，我们也可以通过阅读、听音乐，以及某种形式的创造性活动，摆脱痛苦的折磨。艺术在生活中的作用，就是让我们不再专注于自身——这既痛苦又毫无意义，而是让我们在对美的沉思中进入宁静和忘我的状态。
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生活给我的第二个教训是，极少有人是完全邪恶的。年轻人只知道平和的家庭生活，所以在他们最初接触陌生人的几年里，对碰到的残忍、自私、嫉妒等负面现象感到恐惧害怕，他们觉得到处都是这样的人。年轻人的悲观也不是完全没有理由：人性的确可以低劣到惊人的程度。但是，随着我们对他人的了解增多，我们会发现，他们也能表现出友善、持久的温柔，甚至是英勇。这时，我们开始意识到，生活中真正可怕的，是把犯罪当成保护自己的盔甲。所谓的报仇其实是真正的遭罪。而且，盲目地判断和行动意味着无知。英国作家查尔斯·兰姆曾说：“我恨那个人。”“但你根本不认识他。”一个听众反驳道。“我当然不认识他，”兰姆回答，“你认为我可能恨一个我认识的人吗？”
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“生活教给我的最宝贵的教训是什么？”是对人性的坚定信念。尽管人会犯罪，人会疯狂，但我依然对人性充满信心。因为疯狂是果，不是因。
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二
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现在，让我们来回答第二个问题：“如果请你给一位年轻朋友一些建议，来帮助他平稳度过生命中最艰难的时期，你会给他什么建议？”
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这个问题需要一本书才能回答，一篇文章回答不了。但如果要我勉为其难地回答的话，首先我要强调约束自己的重要性。一个人无休止地探求每件事的前因后果并不好。要生活得幸福，就必须建立在严格的原则之上。我甚至要说，是什么原则并不重要，重要的是，这些原则是可靠的、稳定不变的；而且我们不能打折扣。我在这里说的并不是宗教信条。诗人拜伦说：“教义是一个人和他的创造者之间的事。”我说的是那些自愿的行为，必须建立在稳固的基础之上，依照严格的原则生活。宗教生活的原则、工作的原则、每一种活动的原则——这些都一样有益，只要你全心全意信奉这些原则。
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达到心理平衡和道德完善的另一个条件，在我看来，是计划的一致性和延续性。年轻人会受到各种机会的诱惑，而机会是无限的。限制一个年轻人的选择会激怒他。他想拥有各种朋友，踏上每一次可能的旅行，拥抱所有的学问，尝试每一种事业，经历各种爱情。但生活的一个条件是，人必须限制自己；他必须做出选择。那时，而且只有那时，他才能够深入生活，稳步向前。
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我想，这些就是我对这两个问题的回答——如果要我回答的话。
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（余苏凌 译）
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11 A PAIR OF WOODPECKERS
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A PAIR OF WOODPECKERS, by an anonymous contributor, in The Atlantic Monthly magazine, Vol. CLII. No. 5, pp. 637, 638, November. 1933.
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I had been reading in Hudson’s Green Mansions that very afternoon, and as I walked along the highway that stretched like a gray sword slash through the exuberant foliage with which a wet June had clothed the forest of broad-leaved maple, alder, willow, and ash that had taken possession of the logged-off land beyond my ranch, I recalled the graceful antics of a couple of birds that the mythical Abel observed during his flight with Rima to the land of her birth.
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As if to continue my mind picture, I saw before me a pair of woodpeckers behaving in an extraordinary way. The male was clinging to the side of a dead alder stub, apparently making love in a most excited fashion to his mate, only the head and shoulders of whom were visible. Seeing me, he dipped away, woodpecker fashion, among the trees that rose like green thunderheads above the general level of the forest.
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The female remained, still showing only the head and neck from behind the stub, and eyed me in that breathless, frozen stillness so characteristic of a frightened bird. Three automobiles roared past like huge demented beetles, but she did not stir.
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Shouldering my way into the rank brake ferns, I came within twenty feet of her. She was still watching my every movement when the male returned and with much pomp and ceremony proffered her a fat white grub. The acceptance of the choice morsel was accompanied by so much chattering on both sides, and elaborate curtsying on the part of the male, that I concluded that “the sauce to meat is ceremony” among woodpeckers quite as much as among Scotch thanes.
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Making my way still farther into the ferns, I discovered that the female was really on her nest, from which her head and neck projected, although I knew from the many holes in “punky” maples I had investigated as a boy that the excavation was a good six inches deep, and that she was occupying its mouth for some special reason. When on the job, she undoubtedly was incubating eggs.
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I soon discovered why she was not sitting on those eggs. As in all well-regulated families, each member of the partnership had assumed certain duties. She was to hatch the eggs, and he, in vulgar phrase, was to “bring home the bacon.” Apparently he was not fulfilling his part of the agreement. He had scarcely disappeared into the forest when she began a rapid, high-keyed chatter, evidently begging for more grubs. She kept this up for several minutes, occasionally opening her mouth wide, as if gasping for breath. When, in spite of her coaxing, the male did not return, she changed her tactics. Pitching her voice on a much lower key, she kept up a staccato calling that reverberated through the forest.
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Still her provider did not appear. Apparently the cold weather was not producing the usual crop of grubs. With her neck thrust far out of the hole, she called peremptorily again and again, occasionally tilting her head to listen. Disappointed, she flounced back into the nest, remained there for a few moments, and then, reappearing, began all over again the high-keyed coaxing. When at the end of a good twenty minutes the male did come bustling back with a grub, she snatched it from his beak, swallowed it whole, and before it was fairly down began to scold him like a fishwife.
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Somewhat abashed, the male withdrew to a dead branch on the other side of the stub; but she sensed the fact that he was loafing there, and craning her head round as far as she could without falling out of the nest, resumed her recriminations.
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Like most fathers when under fire, his woodpeckership assumed an indifferent air, as if to say, “I don’t mind your senseless chatter in the least”; but the head was no sooner withdrawn than he made off into the forest through a drizzle that had increased to a downpour. He had scarcely disappeared before out again came the head with the red crown and pale orange stripes above the eyes curved like Mephistophelean eyebrows, and the coaxing began all over again. I noticed that the opening was slightly V-shaped at the bottom, that it faced away from the prevailing storms but toward the sun.
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