Chapter 3 third chapter

In my last term at the Conservatory I met the singer Mott, who was already well known in that town.He had been hired as a member of the Royal Opera House four years earlier, straight out of the Conservatoire, and for a while he was only in general roles, with his older peers who were beloved by the audience, which kept him from breaking out, but many were sure , he is a future star, and the next step will be fame.Some of the roles he played left a strong impression on me, although they were not perfect. That's how we got to know each other.After I came back from school, I went to the house of the teacher who was very friendly to me, and showed him my violin sonata and two new songs.He promised me to read these works carefully and tell me his opinion.After that I waited for a long time, during which time I often met him and noticed that he was a little hesitant towards me.One day he finally called me to him and gave me the sheet music back.

"You take the work back," he said somewhat restrainedly. "I hope you don't have too much hope for them! There is no doubt that there is something in it, and you must be able to create. But frankly, I thought you would be more mature and stable, but now it doesn't look like it, This is mainly because your nature is not very enthusiastic. I originally expected the music to be more euphemistic and beautiful, which of course requires skill and can stand up to other people's technical judgment. But now your work is technically a failure, so I There is not much to say, this is just a bold attempt, I do not give evaluation, as your teacher I do not want to give praise. Your work is lacking in some places, and in some places it is too full, completely beyond my expectations In addition, it makes me very difficult. I am very particular about compositional norms, and I can't take into account any stylistic characteristics. Your works are beyond the norms, which makes me unable to judge well at first. But I would like to see yours again Other works, and wish them success. Despite all the bad things I say about you, I think you can continue to create."

So I left with the sheet music, not knowing how to start over from now on.In fact, I think to see whether a person's work has a future depends on whether he does it out of play and entertainment, or out of need and from the heart.I put these scores aside, and decided to put aside a period for a while, in order to work hard during these last months of school. I was once invited to visit a very musical family, friends of my parents, and it was my duty to visit once or twice a year.It was an ordinary social evening, except for the presence of a few famous actors from the opera house, all actors I knew well.The singer Mott was also there. I have always been very interested in him, but this is the first time I have seen him so close.He was a tall, imposing man, with an impressive dark complexion, a poised, perhaps a little pedantic demeanor, and clearly a man to please women.The expression on his face was neither haughty nor complacent, but there was a searching and dissatisfied look in his eyes and facial expression.When I was introduced to him, he simply nodded at me and didn't speak to me.After a while, he suddenly walked up to me and asked: "Is your name Cohen? Then I know you a little bit. Professor S showed me your work. Please don't be angry with him. He's not one to take things lightly. But I came just in time, and I wanted the sheet music he showed me."

I was surprised and embarrassed. "Why do you say these things?" I asked; "I think Professor S will be unhappy." "Aren't you happy? In fact, I like this song very much. I can sing it as long as I have an accompaniment. Allow me to sing your piece." "Do you like it? Can this piece be sung?" "Sing it, of course, but not at all concerts. I really like this song and would love to sing it in my own home." "I'd love to make a copy for you. But why would you want it?" "Because I'm interested. It's real music, a song you probably don't know yourself!"

He was staring at me, and I couldn't stand his aggressive gaze, looking at other people.He kept staring at my face, looking at me without scruple, his eyes full of curiosity. "You are young. Younger than I thought. You must have suffered a lot." "Yes," I said, "but I can't say it." "You don't need to talk, I don't want to question you." I was bewildered by his stare, he was a celebrity and I was just a student so I had to submit and sit aside primly, even though I hated the cross-examination.He wasn't arrogant, but there was always something that made me feel ashamed. Fortunately, I didn't have any dislike for him, so I didn't make any resistance.I have a feeling that he is very unfortunate.He had an attitude of domination, as if he had to dominate others in order to please himself.His dark, deep eyes looked impertinent and sad, and his face looked older than his years.

A moment later, when I was still thinking about what he said, I saw that he was already chatting politely and happily with the owner's daughter. She listened attentively and stared at him as if watching a miracle. I have lived alone since my misfortune, and this encounter caused me a whole day of thinking and restlessness.At that time I myself could not restrain myself from being afraid of this remarkable figure.At the same time, I longed for loneliness and comfort, and really didn't want to cater to his closeness.In the end, I thought, he had already completely forgotten the expressions on me and him that night.However, he came to my lodging unexpectedly.

It was an evening in December, and the sky was completely dark.The singer knocked on the door and came in, as if he were not a guest, and no one should be surprised.He didn't say a word of politeness, he just explained the purpose of coming.I had to lend him the song he asked for.When he saw the rented piano in his room, he immediately wanted to sing.I had to sit down to accompany him, and for the first time in my life I heard my own song actually sung.It was a sad song, and he didn't sing according to the rules of singing, but just hummed it softly, as if singing to himself, which made my concentration more concentrated.I copied the lyrics after reading them in a magazine last year.The content is like this:

When the hot wind blows, There was a loud avalanche on the mountain, Boom boom is scary, Is it God's will? I greet no one, wandering alone in the world, wandering in foreign lands, Is it God's arrangement? Watching my heart hurt, Do you allow me to suffer and worry? Ah, there is no God in heaven! ——How should I survive? As I listened to him singing, I gradually realized that he liked this song very much. We were silent for a while, and then I asked him if he could make some comments and where we could make changes. Mort gazed at me with his dark, focused eyes and shook his head.

"There's nothing to fix," he said, "I can't tell you about the composition, I don't know anything about it. There's both practice and heart in this song, and since I neither composed nor wrote the lyrics myself, I'm glad To have the opportunity to find a work that I feel the same way, I am very happy to sing it." "I didn't write the lyrics," I interjected. "Didn't you write it? Oh, that's the same, the lyrics are not the main thing. You must have a deep understanding of these contents, otherwise you wouldn't be able to write the song."

I handed him the sheet music that I had copied a few days ago.He rolled up the paper and put it in his coat pocket. "You are welcome to come to my house too, if you like," he said, holding out his hand to shake me off. "You like to live alone, and I don't want to bother you. But people always like to associate with well-bred and well-behaved people wherever they are." He was gone, but his last words and his smile stayed with me like the song he sang, and in short, everything I knew about him until now.The longer I thought about and thought about all this, the more clearly his situation became clear to me, and at last I understood him completely.I understood why he came to see me, why he liked my songs, why he hung on to me, and was half timid and half presumptuous towards me.He was in heavy pain and was as lonely as a hungry wolf.Proudly and alone, the unfortunate man who explored everything could not bear it all, lurking aside, expecting a benevolent look, a sigh of understanding, and ready to give himself for it.That's what I thought at the time.

How I feel about Heinrich Mott is still unclear.I felt his demands and his misfortune, and at the same time I was afraid in the presence of this superior and austere man, who would use me or abandon me.I was too young and too inexperienced to understand and measure his astonishing bluntness and pain of shame.However, I also saw that this is a warm and introverted person.I also overheard many legends about Mott, the vague and slightly frightening gossip of the students, whose tones are firmly imprinted on my memory.What they told me was all about his wild love affairs and adventures, and although they were often unclear, I believed I heard something bloody. He seemed to have been involved in some murder or in suicide cases. I soon got over my fear and asked some of my colleagues for the truth, and it became clear that he was completely innocent.Mott had been in a relationship with an upper-class young woman who had committed suicide two years earlier, and people only carefully hinted at it, not saying much about the singer Mott's role in the affair.I imagined that his peculiar personality and slightly unsettling manner; must have created an atmosphere of terror around him.Of course he must have experienced a very unhappy love. I could never muster up the courage to go to him.I can't hide: Heinrich Mott is a melancholy and seemingly hopeless man, he knows me and longs to be close to me, so I often feel that I should conform to his demands. If I don't, I will become a A prankster.But I still didn't go to the end, because another emotion hindered me.What Mott was looking for in me, I couldn't give him. I was a completely different type of person from him.Even if I am different in some respects and unknown to everyone, maybe I am different from everyone, and I am not compatible with everyone because of fate, because of talent, and I will never give up everything for this.A singer has to be a man of magic, and I am not, and I have absolutely no desire for publicity or fame in me.I am disgusted and disgusted by Mott's changing expressions. I think he is a character on the stage, an adventurer, and perhaps he is destined to encounter misfortune and ups and downs in his own life.On the contrary, I like to live a quiet life, have a dull expression, and don't like to make impassioned remarks. This is probably my destiny.I'm struggling to figure out how to find peace.There is a man who knocks on my door, which makes me difficult, because I have to do my duty to him, but I need quiet, and I don't want him to come in.I was impatient and absorbed in my work, but the tormenting situation did not end there. There was one person who was always looking for trouble behind my back. I ignored him, but he wouldn't let it go.Then I received a letter from Mott, in which he wrote triumphantly: Dear Sir: On January 10th, I specially invited several friends to celebrate their birthdays at Hewen.I don't know if Mr. is willing to come?It is a great honor for Mr. Rumeng to agree to play the masterpiece Violin Sonata.This letter is hereby requested for comments.Can you come with the performers, sir, or can I invite someone on my behalf?Stefan Kronze has agreed to perform.Looking forward with pleasure to Mr. Heinrich Mott This letter was beyond my expectation.I was going to perform hitherto unknown pieces of my own music in front of connoisseurs, and with Kronze: I thanked the invitation with some shame and sent him the score that Kronze asked for two days later.A few days later Kronze invited me again.The beloved violinist was young, with the air of an artist, slender and pale. "Oh," he said as soon as I came in, "you're Mott's friend. Well, let's get to it right away. Let's try it out, play it two, three times." While talking, he let me sit on a chair and helped me set the second piano tone. After adjusting the tempo, he immediately danced the bow easily and flexibly, and I was completely stunned. "Don't be so formal!" he yelled at me without interrupting the performance.So we played it in full. "Okay, that's it!" he said. "Unfortunately, you don't have a better violin. But it doesn't matter. We play the allegro a little faster, so that it doesn't sound like a funeral march. Let's go!" In this way, I played my music with confidence next to this artist. My poor violin and the sound of his expensive violin would be in such harmony. So gentle and casual, it's almost innocent.He warmed me and gave me courage, so I hesitated to ask his opinion on my piece. "I'll have to ask somebody else, my dear sir. I don't know much about that. There must be something special about the music, but someone will like it. If Mott likes it, there's a reason for it. He doesn't like everything." Kronze showed me technically several places where I lost my key while playing.Then we agreed to continue rehearsing tomorrow, and then I said goodbye. This violinist was so simple and sincere that I found some comfort.If he had been Mott's friend, I could have dealt with the Mott family's plight.Of course he is an accomplished artist, and I'm just a novice with little promise.It pains me that no one is willing to comment on my work publicly.I would rather hear the harshest criticisms than such mild perfunctory words, where talking is like saying nothing. It was so cold in those days that it was almost impossible to warm myself up.My classmates are all busy skiing.It had now been a full year since the skiing with Liddy and me.It's been a tough year for me, and I enjoy spending evenings at Mott's, not because I get to hear more about his work, but because I haven't had friends for a long time, and I haven't seen people laughing up.Late the night before January 11th, I was awakened by an unusual sound, and the weather suddenly turned warmer.I got out of bed and went to the window, amazed that the cold was gone.A southerly wind blew suddenly, filled with moisture and heat, and there were piles of dark clouds in the sky, only a few stars twinkled in a narrow gap, which looked very big and bright.Black patches had been exposed on the roof.All the snow had melted when I went out in the morning.The streets and the surrounding scenery looked changed a lot, and everywhere showed the breath of spring coming ahead of schedule. It was a little hot everywhere I walked around that day, partly because of the south wind and hot air, and partly because I was so excitedly waiting for the evening to come.Several times I picked up my sonata to play, but then put it down again.One moment I feel that the works are very beautiful and I am smug, and the next moment I suddenly feel that they are small, fragmented, and unclear.I just can't bear this restlessness and excitement.In the end, I didn't know whether to be happy or afraid of the coming night. Dusk finally came, I put on my coat, took my piano case and went to find Mott's apartment.The house is located in an unknown and deserted street on the outskirts of the city, in the dark.I had a hard time finding the house, it was all alone in a large garden that looked desolate and withered, and behind the open garden door was a tall dog looking at me and back at a window Howled wildly for a while, and then accompanied me into the door with a grunt.A small, timid old woman approached me, took my overcoat, and led me into the house through a well-lit passage. The violinist Kronzer lived in a fine place, and I thought Mott must have a fine house too, for he was rich enough to make a great show.Now I do see tall, spacious rooms, almost too spacious for a young man, especially since he is seldom at home.But everything else is shabby, or not shabby, but disorganized.Some of the furniture was second-hand, apparently belonging to the landlord, with some new furniture in between, apparently bought indiscriminately and put there carelessly.The room was brightly lit.Not gas lamps, but a large number of white candles in simple but beautiful tin candlesticks.Chandeliers hang in the large living room, and simple yellow steel rings are filled with candles.The main decoration in the room is a magnificent grand piano. In the drawing room into which I entered several gentlemen were standing around talking.I put down the piano case and greeted everyone. After a few people nodded to me, they turned around and talked to themselves.I'm a stranger here.Finally Kronzer came over, and he was with the others, not paying attention to me, and after a while he came over to shake my hand, introduced me to his friend, and said, "This is our new violinist. Have you brought the violin?" Then he called to the next door: "Hey, Mort, he's brought the sonata." Now Mott came in, greeted me very affectionately, and led me into the piano room, which was gorgeous and warm, where a pretty woman in white offered me a glass of sherry.She was an actress at the Court Theatre, and to my surprise there were no colleagues of the host among the guests, but she was the only female guest, both guest and colleague. When I took a walk in the wet night and wanted to warm myself, I hesitated to take a drink from the cup, she immediately poured me another cup, and I had no time to refuse. "Drink, please. It's all right. We usually don't eat until after the music program. Have you brought the violin and sonata scores?" I was very restrained in my answer, not clear about the relationship between her and Mott.She appeared as a housewife, and she was extremely beautiful in appearance.I found out later that my new friend only deals with this type of typical beauty. At this time, everyone had gathered in the music room, and Mott set up the music stand. After everyone sat down, Kronzer and I immediately started to play.As I played, I didn't feel like I was in trouble, only a storm of lightning flashed through my mind continuously, telling myself every moment that I was playing with Kronze, which was what I was looking forward to The grand event is a small gathering of music connoisseurs and specialists, playing my sonata.It wasn't until the rondo was playing that I started to hear it, and Kronze played it beautifully, and I was still very restrained and out of tune, because my mind kept wandering, and it suddenly occurred to me that I forgot to congratulate Mott on his birthday. When the sonata was over, the beautiful lady stood up, extended her hand to Kronze and me, and opened the door of the small room next door, where a table was laid, decorated with flowers and wine bottles. "Dinner at last!" cried a gentleman. "I'm already hungry." The lady immediately commented: "You are really annoying. The musician hasn't spoken yet!" "What musician, where is he?" She pointed at me; "That's the one sitting over there." He looked at me and smiled. "You should have told me. Seriously, the music is beautiful. Well, when people are hungry..." We began to eat, the soup had not yet been taken away, the white wine had been poured, and Kronzer suggested that everyone drink a thousand for the host's birthday.Mott immediately stood up and clinked glasses with everyone: "Dear Kronze, if you guessed that I would give an extemporaneous speech, then you are wrong. I beg you to spare me this speech. I think one thing is inevitable, I Thanks to our young friend and his sonata, I think it's really great. Our Kronze may be very happy because he got to play this piece, he is a real connoisseur of sonatas. I drink to the composer and our good friendship .” Everyone clinked glasses, laughed, and made fun of me, and after a few glasses of wine, my long-lost joy rose again.I haven't felt this happy and relaxed in a long time, at least a whole year.Now laughter and good wine, clinking glasses and scattered shouts, as well as the beautiful and pleasing eyes, opened the door to joy, and I naturally joined the lighthearted, cheerful and lively conversation, and became full of spring breeze . Everyone had already finished dinner and returned to the music room. There were wine and cigarettes in every corner of the room.A taciturn gentleman, whose name I do not know, came up to me and spoke of my sonata in a friendly tone, which I have now almost completely forgotten.Then the actress came over to talk to me, and Mort sat down between us.Once again we toasted our friendship, when suddenly Mort, with a smile in his dark eyes, said, "I know about you now," and turning to the beauty, said, "He's trying to please a pretty girl, I broke a bone while skiing," and then said to me, "It's really beautiful to fall down the mountain just when love is the most beautiful and there is no shadow. It's worth a healthy leg." He I laughed and finished drinking the wine in my hand, then stared at me thoughtfully, and asked, "How did you come up with the idea of ​​composing music?" I described how I had been fond of music since I was a child, how I fled last summer and lived in seclusion in the mountains, and I told about that song and that sonata. "Yes," he asked slowly, "and what makes you enjoy composing music? People don't put it on paper to get rid of their pain." "Neither am I," said I, "but I have no burdens other than infirmity and immobility. I would love to feel that pain and joy flow from the same source, that movement is strength, and rhythm is music, both beautiful and indispensable." of." "Man," exclaimed Mott excitedly, "you've lost a leg! Didn't you forget to put it in the music?" "No, how could I forget? I just can't do anything else." "Haven't you been heartbroken by it?" "I'm not happy, you know that, but I hope I never lose heart." "Then you are happy. I didn't expect you to be so happy after losing a leg. Is that how your music came about? Look, Marion, that's the magic of art, and it's written in countless books." gone." I shouted angrily: "How can you say such a thing! You yourself don't sing for your salary, but for the fun and comfort you get out of it! Why are you mocking me and yourself? I think you are saying that It doesn't make sense." "There, there!" interrupted Marion, "he's going to be mad." Mort stared at me. "I'm not going to get mad. He's absolutely right. Breaking a leg is obviously not such a bad thing, otherwise how would you get comfort in making music. You're a contented person, so no matter what happens, you Being able to be content with the status quo. And I can’t.” Suddenly he jumped up again, really angry. "But this is not true! You also wrote the song of the avalanche, but there is no comfort and satisfaction in this song, only pessimism and disappointment. Please listen to it yourself!" He walked abruptly to the grand piano, and the room grew stiller.He started to play, and because of his distraction, he forgot the prelude and sang.He sang completely differently from the last time he sang at my house, and I could tell he must have practiced it many times since that day.This time he sang with all his might. It was the resonant baritone I was familiar with in the theater. The momentum and unrestrained costume of his singing completely covered up the inconspicuous bluntness of his singing. "He is such a person, as he himself said, who writes for satisfaction, who does not know what despair is, and is infinitely satisfied with his own destiny!" He yelled, and pointed his finger at me. Heng He's eyes were full of anger, he saw people moving as if through a veil, stood up, and planned to end the party and bid farewell. At this time, a slender but powerful hand grabbed me, pushed me back to the chair, and gently stroked my hair gently, causing a wave of heat to surge in my heart. I closed my eyes and barely restrained the tears from coming out of my eyes. tears.I looked up and saw Heinrich Mott standing in front of me. The others didn't seem to see my actions and the whole process. They were drinking, laughing and chatting with each other. "What a boy you are!" Mott said softly. "A person who writes a song like this should have made a difference. Please forgive me for saying these words. A person who likes a person but cannot be with him often, this is the cause of conflict." "Okay," I said stiffly. "Now I have to go, we had an amazing day!" "Well, I can't keep you. I think the others will have to drink a little longer. Good night. Can you take Marion home? She lives in Negraben, and you're coming home." The beauty looked at him for a moment, "Ah, are you willing to send it?" Then she turned to me and asked.I stood up immediately.We just said good-bye to Mott, a waiter in the hall helped us into our overcoats, and the sleepy little old lady led us across the garden to the door with an oil lamp.The wind was still warm, and dark clouds passed continuously over the bare treetops. I dared not stretch out my arms to Marion, but she took me without asking, and while she raised her head slightly to breathe the night air, she looked at me suspiciously and intimately.I feel that one of her hands is stroking my hair all the time, and she walks slowly, as if she is showing me the way. "There's a carriage over there," I said, as she tried to make my broken feet follow hers, and it was such a pain to walk beside this warm, healthy, slender woman. "Don't take the car," she objected, "let's go down another street." She slowed down more carefully to accommodate me, so that the two of us pressed closer together.Because of this, I was even more painful and angry, so I broke free from her arm. When she looked at me in surprise, I said: "It's not easy to walk like this. I'd better walk alone. I'm sorry." So she said Cautious and sympathetic walking beside me while I was so preoccupied with the straight path and the balance of the body that I did the exact opposite of what I said.I became silent and stiff, otherwise tears would come to my eyes helplessly, and I had no choice but to hope that she would use her hands to comfort my hair again.All I wanted was to run away into a side street next door.I didn't want her to slow down and walk in that protective, sympathetic gesture. "Are you still angry with him?" she asked at last. "No. I'm really stupid. I don't know him very well." "I'm sorry he's got such a temper. He's a real fright at times." "Are you afraid of him too?" "I'm most afraid of him. He can't be stopped when he loses his temper. He often hates himself for it." "Oh, he enjoys himself most!" "What did you say?" she exclaimed in surprise. "Because he's a comedian. Why should he laugh at himself and others? Why should he expose and ridicule a stranger's history and secrets! The slanderer!" My anger flared up again, and he teased and stabbed me, and I called him and belittled him.But my anger was subdued by this lady, who defended him and publicly defended him.Was it any good that she, as the only woman, attended the drinking parties of young men?I was not used to such things, and though I longed for a beauty, I was ashamed of this beauty, and I would have preferred to suffer such a violent quarrel from her, than to suffer such pity.I want her to think I'm rude and leave me, it's much better than her being there to comfort me now. Still putting her hand on my arm, she said softly, "Shut up!" Her voice moved me, "Stop talking! What are you going to do? You were hurt by Mott's two words." , that’s because you are not clever enough or brave enough to block his words, now you are leaving, and you will never hear my fierce criticism of him again! I have to go, you go home alone!” "Go ahead. I just said what I wanted to say." "You're not lying, you accepted his invitation to play music in his house, saw how much he loved your music, how glad he was to have them performed, and you were furious because you couldn't stand a word of his No. You shouldn't, I'd rather digest the wine in peace." At this moment she seemed to realize suddenly that I was not drunk; she immediately changed her tone, and began to talk without letting me answer.I just couldn't stand it in front of her. "You don't know Mott yet," she went on. "Didn't you hear him sing? He was so rough and callous, but mostly against himself. He was a korrah, curmudgeon, with too much energy and. Blind. He was ready to swallow whole The world, and what he does is always just a little bit. He drinks, but never gets drunk. He has women, but is never happy. He sings beautifully, but never Want to be an artist.He likes someone and makes that person miserable, he pretends to belittle all gestures to please others, but he hates only himself because he can never be satisfied.That's who he is.He's taken a liking to you to a degree he's never had before. " I remained stubbornly silent. "You may not need him," she went on, "you have other friends. But when we see a man overwhelmed by pain and trouble, we must forgive him and treat him better." Yes, I think that's how it should be.Walking on the street in the middle of the night, the cold air hit me, I felt that my wound seemed to be open again, and it was very painful. I see myself as a poor dog for the stupid things I did tonight, and I can only apologize secretly.I began to wake up, now that the drink had worn off, and I struggled with an uncomfortable feeling, not talking much to this beautiful woman beside me who was so excited walking down the dimly lit street, in this dead, dark place. On the road, a bright light suddenly reflected from the wet road.I remembered that my violin was forgotten at Mott's house, and then I felt a sense of surprise and horror at everything.It was a night of change and change.This Hein and Shee Motte and Kronze the violinist, and the beautiful Marion, who played the queen who descended from the stage.It is not handsome lads and blessed beings who are seated at her sublime banquet, but wretched beings, some short and comical, some decadent and pretentious, and Mott is agonizingly and feverishly caught in stupid self-torture middle.The tall beauty took no pleasure in seeing a small, wretched man as a passionate lover of pleasure, when in reality he was a man of peace and kindness, and full of misery.I realized that I had also changed. I was no longer a simple person, but a person who could endure all pain and see every friendly and hostile element in things. Ashamed of my ignorance, for the first time in my light-hearted youth, I clearly felt that I should not look at life and people too simply, that hatred and love, respect and contempt must always be combined, and they cannot be separated and opposed, although often are separated and differentiated.I glanced at the woman next to me, she was also silent now, as if she had also been touched in her heart, which was different from the expression she expressed and described just now. When we finally reached her door, she held out her hand to me, and I gently lifted it up and kissed it. "Good night!" she said kindly, without smiling. I responded to her in the same way, and went to bed as soon as I got home, and I don't know why I fell asleep immediately, and slept a little longer than usual the next morning.Then I jumped up like a little man in a box, first doing gymnastics, then taking a shower, and then putting on clothes. Only then did I find that the coat was on the chair, but the violin case was gone, and the memory of last night appeared again in my mind. scenario.我已经睡够，想法同昨夜也有了改变，甚至已经记不清昨晚的想法；想起的只是一些奇怪的小事情，留在我心里的仅是一丝丝出自内心的真实体验，我甚至惊讶自己依然故我，毫无改变。 我想练琴，可是小提琴不在。我走出门外，先还犹疑不定，终于还是朝昨日走过的方向走去了，来到莫特的寓所。我在花园门外就已听见他在唱歌，大狗向我猛扑过来，幸而老妇人迅速赶来，好不容易才把它赶走。她请我进去，我告诉她只要取走提琴，请她不要打扰主人。我的提琴盒在前厅里，提琴在盒子里，乐谱也在旁边搁着。这一定是莫特干的，他总是想到我。莫特在隔壁大声练唱，我听见他轻轻的来回踱步声，好似穿着软底鞋，他不时在钢琴上敲击出一个乐音。他的声音比我经常在舞台上听到的更清新、洪亮和娴熟，他正在表演一个我不熟悉的角色，一再地重复，还急速地在房间里来回走动着。 我已拿着提琴打算离开。我心里很平静，对于昨晚的记忆几乎无动于衷。然而我很好奇，想看一看莫特，不知他有无改变，我走近房门，不知不觉握住了门把手，往下一压便站在打开的门前了。 莫特唱着歌向我转过身子。他只穿着一件雪白精致的长衬衫，象是刚洗完澡似的容光焕发。我把他吓了一跳，这使我自己也很吃惊，想躲开已经晚了。对于我的不请自入他似乎倒也不在乎，就象他根本没有注意自己只穿着衬衫一样。他所能做的只是向我伸出手来，问道：“您吃过早饭了吗？”当我回答已吃过时，他便在钢琴旁坐了下来。 “我将演出这个角色，您方才听到咏叹调了吧，真是新鲜玩意儿！即将在宫廷剧院首演，布特纳、杜艾丽和我同台演出。您大概不会感兴趣的，我也一样。感觉怎么样？睡得好么？您的模样看上去比昨天还糟。还在生我的气。好啦，我们以后不再开这种愚蠢的玩笑啦！” 我还没有来得及说什么，他马上又说道：“您知道克朗采这个人多、无聊吧，他不想演奏您的奏鸣曲。” “他昨天不是演奏了吗！” “我是说在正式音乐会上。我要他把您的作品排上去，而他不肯。倘若能把它排进这个冬季的早场演出的计划，那一定很好。克朗采并不笨，就是懒。他总是演奏那些老掉了牙的东西，从来不爱学习新的东西。” “我不信，”我开始发表意见，“也从未想到我的奏鸣曲能在音乐会上演出。它在技巧上还差得很。” '这没有关系。只要有艺术家的良心就行！我们可不是学校教师，无疑，他们是不爱演奏比较次的作品，克朗采就是如此。而我却懂得别的东西。您必须把您的歌曲给我，您很快又会写出新作品的：明年春天我要离开这儿，我已经宣布要度长假。休假期间我将举行几次音乐会，将要演出一些新节目，不是舒伯特、沃尔夫和罗维①等等人们每晚都听到的东西，而是全新的、人们完全不熟悉的东西，至少有一些象《雪崩之歌》这样的作品。您认为怎么样？ " 莫特公开演唱我的歌曲对我来说无疑是打开了通向未来的大门，我可以透过门缝看见光明灿烂的前途。正因如此我必须小心翼翼，既不滥用莫特的友谊，也不让自己过分成为他的负担。我觉得他并没有把他的意志强加于我，甚至恰恰相反，因此我也很不在意。 “我想想，”我说道：“您待我很好，这我看到了，但是我什么也不能答应您。我的学业快结束了，不得不考虑一张优秀的成绩单。我也许会成为一个作曲家，这可说不定，目前我是小提琴手，必须考虑如何及时找到一个职业。” “啊，一切您都能够做到的。因此您必须再写出一首这样的歌曲，您也一定会给我的，是不是？” “是的，当然会的。我确实不明自您为什么待我这么好。” “您害怕我了吧？我只是喜欢您的音乐而已，我愿意演唱您的歌曲，请答应我的要求。我纯粹出于自私的目的。” “是的，您为什么总是这样和我说话呢，我的意思是象昨天晚上那样。”—— ①卡尔?罗维（Carl Lowe，1796—1869），德国著名音乐教授。 “噢，您还在生气？我昨天究竟说了些什么？我完全记不清了。总而言之，我不想欺侮您，我一直是这么做的。您可以得到保证！人应该按他的本来面目说话和行动，人们必须相互尊重。” “我也抱同样看法，但是您的作为恰恰相反，您激怒我，我说的话您毫不尊重。我自己不愿意想的事情，属于我私人秘密的东西，您毫不留情地加以揭露，予以责难，您甚至还嘲笑我的跛脚！” 莫特接过我的话头缓缓地说：“是的，是的，人和人不同。有人说老实话却惹得另一人大发脾气，可是又有人受不了任何空话。您生我的气，因为我没有拿您当剧场经理款待，而我生您的气，因为您在我面前遮遮掩掩，还企图用什么关于艺术的格言来束缚我。” “我早说过我的意愿。我不习惯谈论这些事。关于其他的事情我也不愿意谈论。在我看来，不论我是否悲伤或者绝望，不论我的腿有什么残疾，全都是我自己的事，不愿让别人加以评论和嘲弄。” 他站了起来。 “我还什么也没有穿，我得赶快穿好衣服。您是一个有教养的人，可惜我不是。我们以后决不谈这些事了。难道您丝毫没有觉察我很喜欢您吗？请您稍等一等，您在钢琴旁坐一会儿，我穿好衣服马上来。您不唱歌吗？——啊，不唱。嗯，顶多六分钟就够了。” 他确实穿得很快，立即从邻室走回来了。 “现在我们进城去一起吃早饭，”他轻松愉快地说，根本不问我是否愿意。他说了一声“走吧＼于是我们就走了。他这种态度真惹我生气，他总是让我感到他是强者。与此同时；他在说话和行动中又处处表现出一种反复无常的孩子气，经常很讨人喜欢，又和他本人非常调和。 从那时起我常常见到莫特，他经常送给我歌剧院的票子，有时候邀我到他家去练琴。当我有些事情使他不快时，他也很少表现出不满。我们之间就这样建立了友谊，他是我当时唯一的朋友，要是没有他，我简直不知道该怎么打发日子了。正如他自己所宣称的，他为人坦率，尽管有时不免要作出一些努力和妥协。他有时向我暗示，秋天时他也许会应聘去某一家大剧院，事先却要保密。当时春天已经来临了。 有一天我应邀参加莫特举办的一次男子交际晚会，我们为重逢和未来频频举杯，在座的没有女士。莫特送我们出花园门时已是晨光熹微了，他连连向我们招手，在晨雾中打着哆咦回转自己几乎空荡荡的寓所去，大狗吠叫着、跳跃着陪伴在他身边。这时我感到自己的生活和心灵中似乎失落了什么。我深信自己对莫特颇为了解，确信他很快就会把我们大家都忘记的。我今天才完全察觉自己非常喜欢这个皮肤黝黑、脾气暴躁而又傲慢的男人了。 这期间我也要离开了。下一步我要到那些给我留下美好印象的人和地点去告别。我甚至还要到那块高地去，往下俯瞰那一辈子也忘不了的斜坡。 我动身回家了，去面对一个不可知的、并且肯定是乏味的前途。我没有职业，不能独立举办音乐会，我只能静候在家乡，令我胆怯的是有几个学生要求我教授小提琴。父母亲当然对我期望甚殷，他们很富足，我不必为他们的生活担忧，他们对我温文尔雅，关怀体贴，没有强我所难，硬要我作出未来的打算。不过我从一开头就明白自己不会久留故乡的。 我在家里闲了十个月，只给三个学生教授小提琴，虽然绝无不幸之事，却想不出有什么值得一谈的事。这里居住着许多人，每天总要发生一些事情，不过我和所有的人都彬彬有礼，对一切都漫不经心。没有任何人、任何事打动我的心。我只是静静地生活，整天沉溺于奇异的音乐之中，连整个生命都浸沉于其中，甚而忘记了自己，只剩下对音乐的渴求，这种感觉在我讲授小提琴课时常常令我痛苦得难以忍受，使我变成了一个很恶劣的教师。后来每当我必须履行义务，或者为了打发授课时间而欺骗自己时，我就让自己沉浸于美丽而不现实的幻想中。梦想建造独特的音乐巨厦，登临最瑰丽的空中楼阁，在幽深的穹顶下，演奏美妙的音乐，让它们象肥皂泡似的飘飘然地飞上天空。 我在这种迷醉和陌生的环境中徘徊，疏远了所有已往的熟人，使我父母因此而担忧，但是我却比前一年更为起劲地攀登那泉源业已枯竭的山峰；我在这些业已流逝的年代里的梦想和努力表面上是有成效的，而实际上只是一次接着一次不易察觉的俏俏的失败，包围着我的芳香和光辉对于我只是一种近似痛苦的财富，我只能犹豫不决地、满心怀疑地予以汲取。开始时是一支歌曲，接着是一首小提琴幻想曲，随后又是一首弦乐四重奏，后来的几个月中是几支歌曲和一些交响乐的草稿。所有这些作品我都看成是一个开端和尝试。我心里向往的是一部大交响乐。而在最狂妄的时候甚至是一出歌剧！在此期间我还不时给乐队指挥和剧院写一些低声下气的信，还附上老师的介绍信，并且提到我最近主动放弃了一个较好的小提琴手的职位。我有时收到简短而客气的复信，称我为“尊敬的先生”，但是有时候杏无音讯，一无所获。于是我集中一两天工夫蜗居室内，一面用心自修，一面又写几封新的求助信。有时候我脑子里义突然充满了音乐，几乎又是从头开始，于是一切书信、剧院、乐队、指挥以及可尊敬的先生们统统不在话下，我听任自己自由自在，忙于自己的工作，心里非常满足。 喏，这些都是回忆，同大多数人一样，全是无法讲清的。正象一个人的毕生经历，诸如他的成长、病灾、死亡等等，都是无法讲清楚的。劳动者的生活令人乏味，而一无所事者的生活经历和命运却引人注目。当时我脑子里满是这种念头，对它们也没有什么可讲的，因为我是处于人类和社交生活以外的人。可是我又一度和某个人接近了，我不能忘记他。他就是洛埃老师。 深秋时节的一天我出外散步。我知道在城市南端新建了一片简朴的、有小小庭园的廉价住宅楼，住在那里的没有富人，都是些小有积蓄的和领养老金的平民。一个有才华的青年建筑师把这些住宅设计得很漂亮，使我也想去参观一番。 那是一个温暖的下午，晚胡桃都已收完，小小的花园和新屋沐浴在阳光下，让人看了赏心悦目。我很喜欢这些朴素而漂亮的建筑物，怀着极大的兴趣测览了一番，年轻人总是那样想入非非，其实房屋、故园、家庭、休息和夜间团聚对于他们实在是遥远的事。宁静的街道给人以可爱的舒适之感，我悠闲地踱着步，看到花园的门上挂着一块块小小的亮晶晶的铜牌，我饶有兴趣地逐一读着房主的名字。 有一块铜牌上写着“康拉德?洛埃”，我边读边觉得这名字很熟。我站停了，思索着，想起他就是我中学里的一位老师。一瞬间过去的年代都浮现在眼前，令我惊奇，象一股温暖的热流一直涌到我的脸上，我想起了所有的老师和同学，所有的绰号和轶闻．正当我微微含笑站在那里看着铜名牌时，旁边醋栗树丛后面站起来一个人，他原先蹲在那里摆弄着什么。他向我走近，直视着我的膨。 “您要找我吗？”他问，这个人正是洛埃，我的老师洛埃，那时候我们背后叫他罗恩格林①的。 “原来不是来找您的，”我回答，一边脱下帽子。“我不知道您住在这里。我曾经是您的学生。” 他定睛看着我，从头一直看到手杖，想了一想，叫出我的名字。他并不认识我的脸，却知道我那僵直的腿，看样子肯定知道我的不幸事故。他当即请我进去。 他只穿着衬衫，围一条绿色的工作围裙，脸上丝毫不见老，倒是一副容光焕发的样子，和当年相比，没多大变化。我们在小巧洁净的庭园里漫步片刻，然后他带我来到一座露天阳台上，两人在那儿坐了下来。 “真的，我都认不出您了，”他直率地说。“大概您还记得我过去的事。” “也记不清了，”我微笑着回答。“有一次您曾为一件小事惩罚我，硬说我的保证是撒谎。那是在我四年级的时候。” 他优虑地望着我。“您没有见怪吧，我也很抱歉。老师们总是用心良善，但难免处置不当，作出不公正的判决。我知道还有更坏的情况。我退职的一部分原因正在于此。” “啊，您已退职了？” “已经很久了。我病了一场，当我痊愈时，发现自己的观点改变很大，所以就辞职了。我曾经努力想当一个好教师，可是办不到。这必然也是天生的。于是我辞职了，从此我也就无病无 ①罗恩格林（Lohengrin），德国古代传说中的英雄。瓦格纳的著名歌剧《天鹅 骑士》中的男主人公即为罗恩格林。灾了。 " 这一点从他的外表上可以看得清清楚楚。我想继续询问，但他却要听听我的情况，我当即讲述了一遍。听说我要当音乐家，他不大赞成，对我的不幸则显出了友好和温柔的同情，尽量使我不痛苦。他小心翼翼地设法安慰我，对我那躲躲闪闪的答复表示不满。他以神秘莫测的态度，期期文文、转弯抹角地告诉我，他知道一种安慰人的办法，这是一种完善的聪明办法，是每一个诚恳的探索者都可以求得的。 “我知道啦，”我说，“您指的是《圣经》。” 洛埃老师狡黠地笑了。“《圣经》是一部好书。它是一条通向知识的路。可是它本身并不是知识。” “那么什么东西才是知识呢？” “只要您肯找，这东西是不难找到的。我借几本书给您看看，其中就有基本原理。您听说过羯磨①学说吗？” “羯磨？没有听说过，这是什么？” “我拿给您看，请等一下！”他跑开了，我等了好些时候，我不知所措地俊等着，一面眺望下边的小花园，那里整整齐齐排列着一行行矮矮的果树。洛埃急急忙忙跑了回来。他目光炯炯地望着我，把一本小书塞在我手里，小书的封面上印着富于神秘色彩的图案，正中是书名：《通神学教义入门》。 “拿去吧！”他嘱咐说。“就放在您那里，倘若您还想深入研究，我可以再借几本给您。这本书只是入门。我很感谢这门学说，它使我的身心重获健康，希望您也取得同样的效果。” 我接过小书，放进口袋里。洛埃陪我穿过小花园来到街上，高高兴兴和我告别，叮嘱我日后再来看他。我瞧着他的脸，神情开朗愉快，这使我感到学他的样探索一下这条幸福之路倒也不坏。我口袋里装着小书回家了，极其好奇地要走出跨向幸福之途的第一步。 ①梵文karma的音译。意译“作业”或“办事”。原指一般人的内心活动和身口动作；通常也指宗教上的一种因果报应的理论学说。 事实上我在数天之后才跨出这第一步。因为回家途中音符又攫住了我，我又沉湎于音乐之中了，成天写作和演奏曲子，直至这次冲动消失才清醒过来，回到了正常生活之中。我当即感到需要研究这门新学说，便拿出小书认真研读起来，自认为不久就能彻底掌握它。 事情并不如此轻易。尽管书不离我手，却始终也没有战胜它。书本一开头是一篇美丽而有吸引力的导言，论述了许多通往知识的道路，对于每个人都会有教益的。而关于通神学的兄弟学说，那是自由地追求知识和内心完美的人都努力以求的，它的每一信仰都很圣洁，每一条小径都通往光明。接着是宇宙起源学，这我完全不懂，它阐述世界是由许多块不同的“平原”所组成，而历史是由许多重要的、我完全陌生的时期所形成，其中连阿脱兰底斯①的沉没也是一件大事。我曾一度略过这些章节，翻到另外一些章节上，我阅读有关人类再生的学说，我觉得这章比较容易理解。可是我始终不明白，是否世间万物都渴求一种神话学、诗意的寓言或者文学的真理。我始终未能弄懂，也就放弃在一边。现在读到揭磨学说了。它向我显示了一种宗教上的对因果关系规律的尊敬，对此我并无反感。于是我继续往下读去。看到后来我很快便完全明自了，整个学说只是一种安慰和财富，要求人们尽可能地身体力行，并且由衷地信仰。倘若有人象我一样把它的一部分看成是美的象征；一部分是混杂的象征，是试图用神话解释世界，他肯定能够从中得到教益，获取尊敬，不过就是不能获得生命和力量。人们也可以成为精神和职务上的通神者，但是其所得的安慰最终只能是没有多少精神内容的单纯信仰而已。目前对于我实在是毫无用处。 ①相传是史前的一个洲名或岛名，在一次地震中沉没。 然而我还是到老师家去了许多次，十二年前他曾因希腊语课惩罚我和他自己，现在他试图换一种办法进行教育，然而也同样没有效果，我的老师和指导者完全白费力气。我们没有成为朋友，但是我很乐意到他家去。有些时候他是我能够与之讨论自己生活中重要问题的独一无二的朋友。我心里当然明白这种谈话毫无价值，充其量不过是冷冷地把教会和宗教知识留给了我，使我成为具有这种信仰的人，而他自己后半辈子也就是在一种潜心揣摩宗教的安宁和庄严的研究中度过的，令人感动到近乎尊敬的地步。 而我呢，虽则竭尽全力，但这条路至今仍未走通，因为我太虔诚，对所有坚定和知足的人具有惊人的信赖撤，而他们并不能给予我回答。