安全感及理性——?dú)W洲的黃金時(shí)代

By+Stefan+Zweig

If I try to find some useful phrase to sum up the time of my childhood and youth before the First World War， I hope I can put it most succinctly（簡明扼要地）by calling it the Golden Age of Security. Everything in our Austrian Monarchy（奧地利君主制）， then almost a thousand years old， seemed built to last， and the state itself was the ultimate guarantor（保證）of durability（持久性）. The rights it gave its citizens were affirmed by our parliament（議會）， a freely elected assembly representing the people， and every duty was precisely defined. Our currency（貨幣）， the Austrian crown（克朗）， circulated（流通）in the form of shiny gold coins， thus vouching for（擔(dān)保）its own immutability（不變，永恒）. Everyone knew how much he owned and what his income was， what was allowed and what was not. Every family had its own budget and knew how much could be spent on food and lodging（住宿）， summer holidays and social functions， and of course you had to put a small sum aside for unforeseen contingencies（未預(yù)見到的意外）such as illness and the doctor. If you owned a house you regarded it as a secure home for your children and grandchildren； property in town or country was passed on from generation to generation. While a baby was still in the cradle（搖籃）， you contributed the first small sums to its way through life， depositing them in a money box or savings account（儲蓄賬號）， a little reserve（儲備）for the future. Anything radical or violent seemed impossible in such an age of reason.

This sense of security was an asse（t資產(chǎn)）owned by millions， something desirable， an ideal of life held in common by al（l全體公認(rèn)的）. The era of security was also the golden age of the insurance industry（保險(xiǎn)業(yè)）. You insured your house against fire and theft， your land against damage by storms and hail， your body against accidents and sickness； you bought annuities（養(yǎng)老金）for your old age； you put insurance policies in your girl childrens cradles to provide their future dowries（嫁妝）. Only those who could look forward with confidence to the future enjoyed the present with an easy mind.

But for all the solidity and sobriety（清醒）of peoples concept of life at the time， there was a dangerous and overweening（自負(fù)的）pride in this touching belief that they could fence in their existence， leaving no gaps at all. In its liberal idealism， the nineteenth century was honestly convinced that it was on the direct and infallible（絕對可靠的，不會犯錯的）road to the best of all possible worlds. The people of the time scornfully（輕蔑地）looked down on earlier epochs（時(shí)代）with their wars， famines（饑荒）and revolutions as periods when mankind had not yet come of age（成熟期）and was insufficiently enlightened. Now， however， it was a mere matter of decades before they finally saw an end to evil and violence， and in those days this faith in uninterrupted， inexorable（不可阻擋的）“progress” truly had the force of a religion. People believed in “progress” more than in the Bible， and its gospel message（福音）seemed incontestably（無可置疑地）proven by the new miracles of science and technology that were revealed daily.

In hardly any other European city was the urge towards culture as passionate as in Vienna. For the very reason that for centuries Austria and its monarchy had been neither politically ambitious nor particularly successful in its military ventures， native pride had focused most strongly on distinction in artistic achievement. The most important and valuable provinces of the old Habsburg empire1 that once ruled Europe—German and Italian， Flemish（弗蘭德人的）and Wallon2—had seceded（分裂）long ago， but the capital city was still intact（完好無損的）in its old glory as the sanctuary（至圣所）of the court， the guardian of a millennial（千年的）tradition. The Romans had laid the foundation stones of that city as a castrum（古羅馬兵營）， a far-flung outpost（偏遠(yuǎn)的前哨）to protect Latin civilization from the barbarians（蠻族）， and over a thousand years later the Ottoman（ 奧斯曼帝國）attack on the West was repelled（擊退）outside the walls of Vienna. The immortal Pleiades（七巨頭，七杰）of music shone down on the world from this city， Gluck， Haydn and Mozart， Beethoven， Schubert， Brahms and Johann Strauss（格魯克、海頓、莫扎特、貝多芬、舒伯特、勃拉姆斯和約翰·施特勞斯）， all the currents of European culture had merged（融合）in this place. At court and among the nobility and the common people alike， German elements were linked with Slavonic（斯拉夫民族的）， Hungarian， Spanish， Italian， French and Flemish. It was the peculiar genius of Vienna， the city of music， to resolve（溶解）all these contrasts harmoniously in something new and unique， specifically Austrian and Viennese. Open-minded and particularly receptive（善于接受的）， the city attracted the most disparate（不相同的，不相干的）of forces， relaxed their tensions， eased and placated（撫慰，使和解）them. It was pleasant to live here， in this atmosphere of intellectual tolerance， and unconsciously every citizen of Vienna also became a supranational（超國家的）， cosmopolitan（世界性的）citizen of the world.

It was wonderful to live in this city， which hospitably welcomed strangers and gave of itself（犧牲自己的時(shí)間和精力來幫助別人）freely； it was natural to enjoy life in its light atmosphere， full of elation（快樂）and merriment like the air of Paris. Vienna， as everyone knew， was an epicurean（享樂主義的）city—however， what does culture mean but taking the raw material of life and enticing（誘惑）from it its finest， most delicate and subtle aspects by means of art and love？ The people of Vienna were gourmets（美食家）who appreciated good food and good wine， fresh and astringent（澀的）beer， lavish（豐富的）desserts and tortes（果子奶油蛋糕）， but they also demanded subtler pleasures. To make music， dance， produce plays， converse（交談）well， behave pleasingly and show good taste were arts much cultivated here. Neither military， political nor commercial matters held first place in the lives of individuals or society as a whole； when the average Viennese citizen looked at his morning paper， his eyes generally went first not to parliamentary debates or foreign affairs but to the theatrical repertory（全部劇目）， which assumed an importance in public life hardly comprehensible in other cities. For to the Viennese and indeed the Austrians the imperial theatre， the Burgtheater3， was more than just a stage on which actors performed dramatic works； it was a microcosm（縮影，微觀世界）reflecting the macrocosm（宏觀世界）， a bright mirror in which society could study itself. In an actor at the imperial theatre， spectators saw an example of the way to dress， enter a room， make conversation， were shown which words a man of taste might use and which should be avoided. The stage was not just a place of entertainment but a spoken， three-dimensional（立體的、逼真的）manual of good conduct and correct pronunciation， and an aura（光環(huán)，氣氛）of esteem， rather like a saints halo（光環(huán)）， surrounded all who had even the faintest（最小的）connection with the court theatre. The Prime Minister， the richest magnate（要人，大資本家）， could walk through the streets of Vienna and no one would turn to stare， but every salesgirl and every cab driver would recognize an actor at the court theatre or an operatic diva（歌劇女主角）. When we boys had seen one of them pass by[we all collected their pictures and autographs（親筆簽名）] we proudly told each other， and this almost religious personality cult（個(gè)人崇拜）even extended to their entourages（隨從）； Adolf von Sonnenthals barber， Josef Kainzs cab driver were regarded with awe and secretly envied. Young dandies（花花公子）were proud to have their clothes made by the tailors patronized（受到惠顧）by those actors. A notable anniversary in a famous actors career， or a great actors funeral， was an event overshadowing（使相形見絀）all the political news. It was every Viennese dramatists dream to be performed at the Burgtheater， a distinction that mean a kind of ennoblement for life and brought with it a series of benefits such as free theatre tickets for life and invitations to all official occasions， because you had been a guest in an imperial house.

This fantastic love of art， in particular the art of the theatre， was common to all classes of society in Vienna. Its hundreds of years of tradition had made the city itself a place with a clearly ordered and also—as I once wrote myself—a wonderfully orchestrated（精心安排的）structure. A genuine Viennese turned even his death into a fine show for others to enjoy. The entire city was united in this sensitivity to everything colorful， musical and festive， in this delight in theatrical spectacle as a playful reflection of life， whether on the stage or in real space and time.

It was not difficult to make fun of the theatrical mania（狂熱）of the Viennese， whose delight in tracking down the tiniest details of the lives of their favourites sometimes became grotesque（怪異的，可笑的）， and our Austrian political indolence（懶散）and economic backwardness， by comparison with the determined German Reich（帝國）next door， may indeed be partly ascribed to（歸因于）our overrating（高估）of sensuous（感官的）pleasure. You were not truly Viennese without a love for culture， a bent（愛好，傾向）for both enjoying and assessing the prodigality（慷慨，豐富）of life as something sacred（神圣的）.

1. the old Habsburg empire： Habsburg等于Hapsburg，哈布斯堡王朝，歐洲最古老的王室家族，歷史上統(tǒng)治領(lǐng)域最廣，曾統(tǒng)治神圣羅馬帝國、奧地利帝國、奧匈帝國、西班牙帝國。

2. Wallon： 瓦隆，比利時(shí)說法語的人居住的地區(qū)。

3. Burgtheater： 伯格劇院，維也納的一所著名的劇院，也是歐洲第二古老的劇院。