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  外语解密学习法 逆读法(Reverse Reading Method)   解读法(Decode-Reading Method)训练范文 ——                 

解密目标语言:德语                                解密辅助语言:英语
              Language to be decoded:  German             Auxiliary Language :  English  

  
         
解密文本:《给科学院的报告》  [奥] 卡夫卡 原著          
 
 Ein Bericht für eine Akademie
 von  Franz Kafka

 

           A Report for an Academy      
                                                                         by  Franz Kafka     
                                                                

           德汉对照(German & Chinese)                             德英对照(German & English)                           英汉对照(English & Chinese)


  


    Esteemed Gentlemen of the Academy!

You show me the honour of calling upon me to submit a report to the Academy concerning my previous life as an ape.

In this sense, unfortunately, I cannot comply with your request. Almost five years separate me from my existence as an ape, a short time perhaps when measured by the calendar, but endlessly long to gallop through, as I have done, at times accompanied by splendid men, advice, applause, and orchestral music, but basically alone, since all those accompanying me held themselves back a long way from the barrier, in order to preserve the image. This achievement would have been impossible if I had stubbornly wished to hold onto my origin, onto the memories of my youth.

Giving up that obstinacy was, in fact, the highest command that I gave myself. I, a free ape, submitted myself to this yoke. In so doing, however, my memories for their part constantly closed themselves off against me. If people had wanted it, my journey back at first would have been possible through the entire gateway which heaven builds over the earth, but as my development was whipped onwards, the gate simultaneously grew lower and narrower all the time. I felt myself more comfortable and more enclosed in the world of human beings. The storm which blew me out of my past eased off. Today it is only a gentle breeze which cools my heels. And the distant hole through which it comes and through which I once came has become so small that, even if I had sufficient power and will to run back there, I would have to scrape the fur off my body in order to get through. Speaking frankly, as much as I like choosing metaphors for these things—speaking frankly: your experience as apes, gentlemen—to the extent that you have something of that sort behind you—cannot be more distant from you than mine is from me. But it tickles at the heels of everyone who walks here on earth, the small chimpanzee as well as the great Achilles.

In the narrowest sense, however, I can perhaps answer your question, nonetheless, and indeed I do so with great pleasure.

The first thing I learned was to give a handshake. The handshake displays candour. Today, when I stand at the highpoint of my career, may I add to that first handshake also my candid words. For the Academy it will not provide anything essentially new and will fall far short of what people have asked of me and what with the best will I cannot speak about—but nonetheless it should demonstrate the line by which someone who was an ape was forced into the world of men and which he has continued there. Yet I would certainly not permit myself to say even the trivial things which follow if I were not completely sure of myself and if my position on all the great music hall stages of the civilized world had not established itself unassailably.

I come from the Gold Coast.

For an account of how I was captured I rely on the reports of strangers. A hunting expedition from the firm of Hagenback—incidentally, since then I have already emptied a number of bottles of good red wine with the leader of that expedition—lay hidden in the bushes by the shore when I ran down in the evening in the middle of a band of apes for a drink. Someone fired a shot. I was the only one struck. I received two hits.

One was in the cheek—that was superficial. But it left behind a large hairless red scar which earned me the name Red Peter—a revolting name, completely inappropriate, presumably something invented by an ape, as if the only difference between me and the recently deceased trained ape Peter, who was well known here and there, was the red patch on my cheek. But this is only by the way.

The second shot hit me below the hip. It was serious. It’s the reason that today I still limp a little. Recently I read in an article by one of the ten thousand gossipers who vent their opinions about me in the newspapers that my ape nature is not yet entirely repressed. The proof is that when visitors come I take pleasure in pulling off my trousers to show the entry wound caused by this shot. That fellow should have each finger of his writing hand shot off one by one. So far as I am concerned, I may pull my trousers down in front of anyone I like. People will not find there anything other than well cared for fur and the scar from—let us select here a precise word for a precise purpose, something that will not be misunderstood—the scar from a wicked shot. Everything is perfectly open; there is nothing to hide. When it comes to a question of the truth, every great mind discards the most subtle refinements of manners. However, if that writer were to pull down his trousers when he gets a visitor, that would certainly produce a different sight, and I’ll take it as a sign of reason that he does not do that. But then he should not bother me with his delicate sensibilities.

After those shots I woke up—and here my own memory gradually begins—in a cage between decks on the Hagenbeck steamship. It was no four-sided cage with bars, but only three walls fixed to a crate, so that the crate constituted the fourth wall. The whole thing was too low to stand upright and too narrow for sitting down. So I crouched with bent knees, which shook all the time, and since at first I probably did not wish to see anyone and to remain constantly in the darkness, I turned towards the crate, while the bars of the cage cut into the flesh on my back. People consider such confinement of wild animals beneficial in the very first period of time, and today I cannot deny, on the basis of my own experience, that in a human sense that is, in fact, the case.

But at that time I didn’t think about it. For the first time in my life I was without a way out—at least there was no direct way out.

Right in front of me was the crate, its boards fitted closely together. Well, there was a hole running right through the boards. When I first discovered it, I welcomed it with a blissfully happy howl of ignorance. But this hole was not nearly big enough to stick my tail through, and all the power of an ape could not make it any bigger.

According to what I was told later, I am supposed to have made remarkably little noise. From that people concluded that either I must soon die or, if I succeeded in surviving the first critical period, I would be very capable of being trained. I survived this period. Muffled sobbing, painfully searching out fleas, wearily licking a coconut, banging my skull against the wall of the crate, sticking out my tongue when anyone came near—these were the first occupations in my new life. In all of them, however, there was only one feeling: no way out. Nowadays, of course, I can portray those ape-like feelings only with human words and, as a result, I misrepresent them. But even if I can no longer attain the old truth of the ape, at least it lies in the direction I have described—of that there is no doubt.

Up until then I had had so many ways out, and now I no longer had one. I was tied down. If they had nailed me down, my freedom to move would not have been any less. And why? If you scratch raw the flesh between your toes, you won’t find the reason. If you press your back against the bars of the cage until it almost slices you in two, you won’t find the answer. I had no way out, but I had to come up with one for myself. For without that I could not live. Always in front of that crate wall—I would inevitably have died a miserable death. But according to Hagenbeck, apes belong at the crate wall—well, that meant I had to cease being an ape. A clear and beautiful train of thought, which I must have planned somehow with my belly, since apes think with their bellies.

I’m worried that people do not understand precisely what I mean by a way out. I use the word in its most common and fullest sense. I am deliberately not saying freedom. I do not mean this great feeling of freedom on all sides. As an ape, I perhaps recognized it, and I have met human beings who yearn for it. But as far as I am concerned, I did not demand freedom either then or today. Incidentally, among human beings people all too often are deceived by freedom. And since freedom is reckoned among the most sublime feelings, the corresponding disappointment is also among the most sublime. In the variety shows, before my entrance, I have often watched a pair of artists busy on trapezes high up in the roof. They swung themselves, they rocked back and forth, they jumped, they hung in each other’s arms, one held the other by clenching the hair with his teeth. “That, too, is human freedom,” I thought, “self-controlled movement.” What a mockery of sacred nature! At such a sight, no structure would stand up to the laughter of the apes.

No, I didn’t want freedom. Only a way out—to the right or left or anywhere at all. I made no other demands, even if the way out should be only an illusion. The demand was small; the disappointment would not be any greater—to move on further, to move on further! Only not to stand still with arms raised, pressed again a crate wall.

Today I see clearly that without the greatest inner calm I would never have been able to get out. And in fact I probably owe everything that I have become to the calmness which came over me after the first days there on the ship. And, in turn, I owe that calmness to the people on the ship.

They are good people, in spite of everything. Today I still enjoy remembering the clang of their heavy steps, which used to echo then in my half sleep. They had the habit of tackling everything extremely slowly. If one of them wanted to rub his eyes, he raised his hand as if it were a hanging weight. Their jokes were gross but hearty. Their laughter was always mixed with a rasp which sounded dangerous but meant nothing. They always had something in their mouths to spit out, and they didn’t care where they spat. They always complained that my fleas sprung over onto them, but they were never seriously angry at me because of it. They even knew that fleas liked being in my fur and that fleas are jumpers. They learned to live with that. When they had no duties, sometimes a few of them sat down in a semi-circle around me. They didn’t speak much, but only made noises to each other and smoked their pipes, stretched out on the crates. They slapped their knees as soon as I made the slightest movement, and from time to time one of them would pick up a stick and tickle me where I liked it. If I were invited today to make a journey on that ship, I’d certainly decline the invitation, but it’s equally certain that the memories I could dwell on of the time there between the decks would not be totally hateful.

The calmness which I acquired in this circle of people prevented me above all from any attempt to escape. Looking at it nowadays, it seems to me as if I had at least sensed that I had to find a way out if I wanted to live, but that this way out could not be reached by escaping. I no longer know if escape was possible, but I think it was: for an ape it should always be possible to flee. With my present teeth I have to be careful even with the ordinary task of cracking a nut, but then I must have been able, over time, to succeed in chewing through the lock on the door. I didn’t do that. What would I have achieved by doing that? No sooner would I have stuck my head out, than they would have captured me again and locked me up in an even worse cage. Or I could have taken refuge unnoticed among the other animals—say, the boa constrictors opposite me—and breathed my last in their embraces. Or I could have managed to steal way up to the deck and jumped overboard.

Then I’d have tossed back and forth for a while on the ocean and drowned. Acts of despair. I did not think things through in such a human way, but under the influence of my surroundings conducted myself as if I had worked things out.

I did not work things out, but I observed well in complete tranquility. I saw these men going back and forth, always the same faces, the same movements. Often it seemed to me as if there was only one man. So the man or these men went undisturbed. A lofty purpose dawned on me. No one promised me that if I could become like them the cage would be removed. Such promises, apparently impossible to fulfill, were not made. But if one makes the fulfillment good, then later the promises appear precisely there where one had looked for them earlier without success. Now, these men in themselves were nothing which attracted me very much. If I had been a follower of that freedom I just mentioned, I would certainly have preferred the ocean to the way out displayed in the dull gaze of these men. But in any case, I observed them for a long time before I even thought about such things—in fact, the accumulated observations first pushed me in the proper direction.

It was so easy to imitate these people. I could already spit on the first day. We used to spit in each other’s faces. The only difference was that I licked my face clean afterwards. They did not. Soon I was smoking a pipe, like an old man, and if I then pressed my thumb down into the bowl of the pipe, the entire area between decks cheered. Still, for a long time I did not understand the difference between an empty and a full pipe.

I had the greatest difficulty with the bottle of alcohol. The smell was torture to me. I forced myself with all my power, but weeks went by before I could overcome my reaction. Curiously enough, the people took this inner struggle more seriously than anything else about me. In my memories I don’t distinguish the people, but there was one who always came back, alone or with comrades, day and night, at different times. He’d stand with a bottle in front of me and give me instructions. He did not understand me. He wanted to solve the riddle of my being. He used to uncork the bottle slowly and then look at me, in order to test if I had understood. I confess that I always looked at him with wildly over-eager attentiveness. No human teacher has ever found in the entire world such a student of human beings.

After he’d uncorked the bottle, he’d raise it to his mouth. I’d gaze at him, right at his throat. He would nod, pleased with me, and set the bottle to his lips. Delighted with my gradual understanding, I’d squeal and scratch myself all over, wherever it was convenient. He was happy. He’d set the bottle to his mouth and take a swallow. Impatient and desperate to emulate him, I would defecate over myself in my cage—and that again gave him great satisfaction.

Then, holding the bottle at arm’s length and bringing it up again with a swing, he’d drink it down with one gulp, exaggerating his backward bending as a way of instructing me. Exhausted with so much great effort, I could no longer follow and hung weakly onto the bars, while he ended the theoretical lesson by rubbing his belly and grinning.

Now the practical exercises first began. Was I not already too tired out by the theoretical part? Yes, indeed, far too weary. That’s part of my fate. Nonetheless, I’d grab the proffered bottle as well as I could and uncork it trembling. Once I’d managed to do that, new forces gradually take over. I lift the bottle—with hardly any difference between me and the original—put it to my lips—and throw it away in disgust, in disgust, although it is empty and filled only with the smell, throw it with disgust onto the floor. To the sorrow of my teacher, to my own greater sorrow. And I still do not console him or myself when, after throwing away the bottle, I do not forget to give my belly a splendid rub and to grin as I do so.

All too often, the lesson went that way. And to my teacher’s credit, he was not angry with me. Well, sometimes he held his burning pipe against my fur in some place or other which I could reach only with difficulty, until it began to burn. But then he would put it out himself with his huge good hand. He wasn’t angry with me. He realized that we were fighting on the same side against ape nature and that I had the more difficult part.

What a victory it was for him and for me, however, when one evening in front of a large circle of onlookers—perhaps it was a celebration, a gramophone was playing, and officer was wandering around among the people—when on this evening, at a moment when no one was watching, I grabbed a bottle of alcohol which had been inadvertently left standing in front of my cage, uncorked it just as I had been taught, amid the rising attention of the group, set it against my mouth and, without hesitating, with my mouth making no grimace, like an expert drinker, with my eyes rolling around, splashing the liquid in my throat, I really and truly drank the bottle empty, and then threw it away, no longer in despair, but like an artist. Well, I did forget to scratch my belly. But instead of that, because I couldn’t do anything else, because I had to, because my senses were roaring, I cried out a short and good “Hello!” breaking out into human sounds. And with this cry I sprang into the community of human beings, and I felt its echo—“Just listen. He’s talking!”—like a kiss on my entire sweat-soaked body.

I’ll say it again: imitating human beings was not something which pleased me. I imitated them because I was looking for a way out, for no other reason. And even in that victory little was achieved. My voice immediately failed me again. It first came back months later. My distaste for the bottle of alcohol became even stronger.

But at least my direction was given to me once and for all.

When I was handed over in Hamburg to my first trainer, I soon realized the two possibilities open to me: the Zoological Garden or the Music Hall. I did not hesitate. I said to myself: use all your energy to get into the Music Hall. That is the way out. The Zoological Garden is only a new barred cage. If you go there, you’re lost.

And I learned, gentlemen. Alas, one learns when one has to. One learns when one wants a way out. One learns ruthlessly. One supervises oneself with a whip and tears oneself apart at the slightest resistance. My ape nature ran off, head over heels, out of me, so that in the process my first teacher himself almost became an ape and soon had to give up training and be carried off to a mental hospital. Fortunately he was soon discharged again.

But I went through many teachers—indeed, even several teachers at once. As I became more confident of my abilities and the general public followed my progress and my future began to brighten, I took on teachers myself, let them sit down in five interconnected rooms, and studied with them all simultaneously, by constantly leaping from one room into another.

And such progress! The penetrating effects of the rays of knowledge from all sides on my awaking brain! I don’t deny the fact—I was delighted with it. But I also confess that I did not overestimate it, not even then, even less today. With an effort which up to this point has never been repeated on earth, I have attained the average education of a European. That would perhaps not amount to much, but it is something insofar as it helped me out of the cage and created this special way out for me—the way out of human beings. There is an excellent German expression: to beat one’s way through the bushes. That I have done. I have beaten my way through the bushes. I had no other way, always assuming that freedom was not a choice.

If I review my development and its goal up to this point, I do not complain. I am even satisfied. With my hands in my trouser pockets, the bottle of wine on the table, I half lie and half sit in my rocking chair and gaze out the window. If I have a visitor, I welcome him as is appropriate. My impresario sits in the parlour. If I ring, he comes and listens to what I have to say. In the evening I almost always have a performance, and my success could hardly rise any higher. When I come home late from banquets, from scientific societies, or from social gatherings in someone’s home, a small half-trained female chimpanzee is waiting for me, and I take my pleasure with her the way apes do. During the day I don’t want to see her. For she has in her gaze the madness of a bewildered trained animal. I’m the only one who recognizes that, and I cannot bear it.

On the whole, at any rate, I have achieved what I wished to achieve.

You shouldn’t say it wasn’t worth the effort. In any case, I don’t want any man’s judgment. I only want to expand knowledge. I simply report. Even to you, esteemed gentlemen of the Academy, I have only made a report.

 


    尊贵的科学院的先生们:
  承蒙诸位盛情厚爱,邀请我向贵院写一份我所经历过的猿猴生活的报告,我深感荣幸。
  然而,遗憾的是我恐怕难于满足先生们的要求。我告别猿猴生涯已近五个年头。这一段经历在时间的长河中仿佛只是短暂的一瞬,但是我仍感到,时光真的流逝起来却是极其漫长。诚然,我生活中不乏好人、忠告、喝彩和音乐的伴随,但是总的说来我还是孤独的,因为所有的伴随者们为了保持自己的形象都远远地停留在铁栅前。倘若我当初死死抱住我的本族不放,执拗于少年时期的回忆,那么我如今绝不会成绩辉煌。“力克固执”正是我始终不渝的最高信条,虽然我是只自由猿猴,却心甘情愿受此羁绊,如此一来,对旧时的记忆也日渐模糊。只要人类许可,我原本可以跨过苍天造就于大地之间的门槛,重新返归本族之旅,然而这扇大门却随着我受到鞭策而产生的进步和发展变得日益狭窄低矮,而我倒觉得生活在人类的世界里更加惬意舒畅。跟随我身后的那股昔日岁月的狂风愈来愈弱,如今它只是轻拂我脚踵的微风了。远处的“洞穴”——那是狂风和造就我的地方——已变得如此狭小,即使我有足够的力量和意志回去,在重新穿越它时也非得掉一层皮不可。老实说——尽管我也喜欢选用委婉的表达方式——老实说,尊贵的先生们,你们过去的猿类生涯(如果诸位有此经历的话)和你们现在之间的距离不见得就比我与我的本族之间的距离大多少。要说在脚跟上搔痒的癖好,那么地球上的生物莫不如此,不论是小小的黑猩猩还是伟大的阿契里斯。
  然而从最狭义上讲,我似乎可以给诸位一个答复,我甚至乐而为之。我所学的第一件事就是握手。握手意味着坦率、诚恳。今天,正值我生涯发展高峰之际,我乐意坦然地谈谈那第一次握手的情形。其实,我要讲的事情对贵院来说并不是什么新奇的东西,自然会远离诸位的要求。我纵然有意也实难表达。虽然如此我还是能大致说明,一只昔日的猿猴需要经过什么途径才能步入人类世界并取得安身立命之道。倘若我今天仍不自信,我的地位在文明世界的大舞台上尚未得以巩固,那么我是绝然不会陈述以下细节烦劳诸位倾听的。
  我的祖籍在黄金海岸。至于捕捉到我的全部过程我都是后来听人说的。那是一天傍晚,我们一群猿猴到河边饮水,当时哈根贝克公司的一个狩猎队恰好埋伏在岸边的丛林里——顺便说一句,后来我和公司的头儿一起喝过许多瓶红葡萄酒——他们开枪了,我是唯一被击中的猿猴,身中两弹。
  第一枪打在我的面颊上,伤虽不重,但留下了一大块不生毛发的红疤。从此我得到了一个令我恶心、与我毫不相称、而且也只有猿猴才想得出的“红彼得”的外号,好像我与那只被驯服了的猿猴彼得唯一的区别就仅在这块红疤上似的。捎带提一下,猿猴彼得在远近还有点小名气,他不久前才死去。
  第二枪打在臀部下方,这伤可不轻,时至今日,我走路仍有点瘸。不久前我在报上读到一篇文章,它出自某位轻率地对我横加挑剔者的手笔,这样的人何止成千上万。文章说我还没有完全克服猿的本性,证据是我有客人时,总喜欢脱下裤子让人看子弹是怎样穿进去的,真该打断写这种文章的家伙的手指头。至于我,只要乐意,我当然可以在任何人面前脱下裤子。人们除了能看到整齐干净的皮毛外就是——在这儿我们为了某种目的而选用一个不会被误解的词——那颗罪恶的子弹留下的伤疤。一切坦然磊落,一切无需隐瞒。当真实是说明一切的万能时,任何一位明智之士定会摒弃所有文雅的举止。反之,假如那位作者先生胆敢在客人面前脱下裤子,那可就大失体统了。他不这么做我以为是理智之举。既然如此,我请这位先生不必“体贴入微”地干涉我自己的事!
  我中弹醒来后,才发现自己被关在哈根贝克公司轮船中舱的一只笼子里。我就是从这时开始才逐渐有了自己的回忆。那只笼子固定在一只箱子上,三面是铁栅,第四面就是箱子。笼子又低又窄,我既难站立又难坐卧,只有弯着不住颤抖的双膝半蹲在那里。大概是我当时不愿见任何人,只想呆在黑暗处的缘故,我总是面对着箱子,这样一来,笼子的铁栅都戳进了我后背的皮肉里。人们认为在捉到野兽的初期用这种方法囚禁它们是可取的。我通过体会也无法否认,这一囚禁方法以人类之见确实卓有成效。
  可当时我不这么想。我生平第一次没有了出路,至少往前走行不通。直对着我的是那只箱子,一根根木条连在一起,虽然木条之间有缝隙,我发现它的时候还狂喜地叫了一声,可那缝子细得连尾巴都塞不进去,就是用尽猿猴的气力也无法将缝隙扩大弄宽。
  据说我当时安静极了,人们因此断定,要么我会马上死去,要么日后训练起来很顺手,而问题是我能否成功地度过最初的危险期。我活了过来,闷声闷气地啜泣,痛苦不堪地找捉跳蚤,无力地在一只椰子上舐来舔去,用脑袋撞击木箱,见到有人靠近我就朝他吐吐舌头,这就是我新生活开始的全部内容。然而,随之而来的只有一种感觉:没有出路。当然,我今天只能用正常人的语言描绘我当时作为猿猴的感受,因此难免出现差错,但是即使我如今再也达不到昔日猿猴的“境界”,那么我刚才追述的事情至少不是瞎编乱造,这一点敬请诸位深信不疑。
  这以前,我是多么的神通广大,可现在却是穷途末路,寸步难行。假如就是把我钉死在某个地方,我行动的自由或许比现在还要大些。为什么会是这样呢?你扯开脚趾间的肉找不到答案,就是背顶铁栅几乎被勒成两半仍寻不到原因。我走投无路,但一定要为自己开辟一条生路,否则就没有活下去的希望,老是贴着笼壁我非送命不可。可是哈根贝克公司认为,笼壁本来就是猿猴呆的地方。那么,我只得向猿猴生涯告别了。一个清晰而又美妙的念头就这样在我的肚子里油然升起,因为猿猴是用肚皮思想的。
  我担心人们不理解我所说的出路是什么意思,其实我用的是它最基本最完整的含义。我有意不用“自由”这个词,我指的并非是无拘无束的自由自在的感觉,作为猿猴我领略过此种感觉。我也结识了一群渴望获得这种感觉的人。但是就我本身而言,不论过去还是现在从不对自由有任何奢望。顺便提一下:人类用自由招摇撞骗似乎太多了一点。正如自由被视为最崇高的情感之一,其相应的失望也变得最崇高。我在马戏班子虽登台演出之前经常看到两个艺人在屋顶下的秋千上作空中飞人表演,他们摆动着身体飘来荡去,时而跃向空中,时而扑向对方的怀里,一个用牙咬住另一个的头发,我直纳闷:“如此炫耀自己而不顾他人的运动居然也称得上是人类的自由?”这真是对神圣大自然莫大的嘲讽!猿猴若是看到这种表演肯定会哄堂大笑,戏园子不被笑塌才怪哩。
  不,我需要的不是自由,而是出路,左边或右边,随便什么方向都成。我别无他求,哪怕这出路只是自我蒙骗,我的要求极低,蒙骗不至于太惨。向前,继续向前!决不能抬着胳膊贴在一块木箱板前一动不动!
  今天我算明白了,若不是内心极度镇静我是无论如何逃脱不了的。我能有今天确实要归功于我船上头几天的镇静,而我得以镇静的功劳应当属于船上的人们。
  无论如何,他们都是些好人。时至今日我仍乐意回想起他们那曾经在我半梦幻状态中萦回的沉重的脚步声。他们习惯慢腾腾地做事,有人想揉眼睛,他的手抬得很慢,好像那手是一副沉甸甸的担子。他们的玩笑很粗鲁,但很开心,他们的笑声里混杂着让人听着害怕实际上却并无恶意的咳嗽。他们习惯吐唾沫,至于吐到什么地方是无所谓的。他们总是抱怨,说我把跳蚤传给了他们,但是从不因此真生我的气,因为他们知道我的皮毛里很容易生跳蚤,而跳蚤总是要跳的,他们大度地宽容了我的“不是”。空闲时有些人围成半圆坐在我的面前,他们话很少,彼此间咕噜几声,伸展四肢躺在大柜子上抽烟斗。只要我有纹丝小动,他们就拍打膝盖。时而还有人拿根小棍给我搔痒。假如今天有人邀请我再乘此船游弋一番,我一定会拒绝,但是我也可以肯定地说,那条船的中舱留给我的回忆并非完全可憎可厌。
  我在这些人当中获得的平静打消了我逃跑的念头。现在回想起来,当时我似乎也预感到,要活下去就一定要找到一条出路,但出路绝不是靠逃跑能够获得。现在我仍说不上来,当时逃跑是否真的可能,但我想是可能的,逃跑对于一个猿猴来说总是办得到的。今天我用牙咬一般硬果都得小心翼翼,可那会儿我稍用时间准能把门锁咬开。可我没那么做,就算成功了,结果又能怎样呢?可能还不待我探出脑袋就又会被人捉住,关进一个情况更加恶劣的笼子里;我或许能悄悄地跑向其他动物,比如说我对面的巨蟒,然后在它的“拥抱中”死去;或者我会成功地溜上甲板,蹦出船舷,跳进水里,那么我只能在茫茫大海中晃动片刻即葬身海底。这纯粹是绝望的愚蠢举动。当时,我可不会像人类那样精细算计,但在环境影响下,我的一举一动仿佛都是深思熟虑所驱使。
  我虽然没有精打细算,但却把一切都观察得清清楚楚。我眼看着这些人走来走去,老是那些面孔,动作千篇一律,我经常感到,他们不是一个群体,而是同一个人。这个人、或者说是这群人不受约束,不受干扰地来回走动。一个宏传的目标朦朦胧胧地在我脑海里升起,没有人向我许诺过,只要我变得和他们一样,笼子的栅栏就能拆掉。显然,这类不着边的许愿不会出现。如果梦想果然得以成真,那么事后人们会发现,曾经梦寐以求的结果竞和早先的许愿不谋而合。现在,这些人本身对我已失去了吸引力,假如我真的是前面提及的自由的信徒,那么我的出路就是遵循这些人阴郁目光的暗示而投身浩瀚的海洋。不管怎么说,我想到这些事情之前就已把他们观察得很细,正是大量观察的结果才使我踏上特定之路。
  我不费吹灰之力就把这些人模仿得维妙维肖,没几天我就学会了吐唾沫,然后我们就互相往脸上吐,所不同的是我事后把自己的脸舔得一干二净,而他们却不这样做。很快我就成了抽烟袋锅的老手,每当我用大姆指压压烟袋锅时,整个中舱就响起一片欢呼声。不过,空烟袋锅和装满烟丝的烟袋锅的区别我迟迟弄不明白。
  最恼火的当属学喝烧酒,那玩意儿的气味真叫我难受,我强迫自己使出浑身解数,用了好几个星期才总算过了这一关。说来也怪,人们对我内心的斗争格外重视,甚至超过了其他方面。我凭自己的记忆很难把他们的模样辨别清楚,但有一位不分白天晚上老是到我这儿来,有时独自一人,有时和同伴一起。他总是带着一瓶烧酒在我面前摆好架势开导我,他对我大惑不解,要解开我身上的谜。他慢慢地打开瓶塞,然后瞧着我,看我是否明白他的意思。我总是狂热而又聚精会神地望着他,我敢说,地球上没有一个老师有过像我这样的学生。打开瓶塞后,他把酒瓶举到嘴边,我紧盯着他直到喉咙,他点点头,表示对我满意,把瓶口放到唇边。我为自己逐渐开窍而欣喜若狂,一边狂呼乱叫,一边浑身上下乱挠一通。他高兴了,举起酒瓶喝了一口。我急不可待,甚至近似疯狂地想竭力效仿,忙乱中在笼子里弄了自己一身尿臊,这一举动又使他快活地开怀大笑。随后他伸直拿着酒瓶的胳膊,又猛一下举了起来,用一种夸张的教训人的姿势向后一仰,一口气把酒喝了个精光。我被不可抑制的激情折腾得疲惫不堪,有气无力地斜靠在铁栅上再也无法学下去了。而他呢,摸摸肚皮笑了笑,从而结束了全套理论课程。
  随后,实践开始了。我不是已经被理论调弄得精疲力尽了吗?是的,确实太累了,这也是命中注定的事。尽管如此,我还是尽我所能抓起了递到我眼前的酒瓶子,颤颤悠悠打开瓶塞,成功的喜悦又给我注入了新的力量。我举起酒瓶,和老师的动作几乎没有什么两样,把它放到嘴边,然后厌恶地、极其厌恶地把它扔到地上,尽管酒瓶是空的,只有一股酒气往上翻。这使我老师伤心,更使我自己难过之极,虽然我在扔掉酒瓶后还没有忘记用最优美的姿势笑着摸摸肚皮,但这也未能给师徒俩带来好心绪。
  我的训练课往往就是这样宣告结束。我尊敬老师,他并不生我的气,只是有时他把点着了的烟斗塞进我够不着的皮毛某处,以致于那儿都起了烟火,随后他又用慈爱的大手把火压灭。他的确没有生气,因为他晓得,我们共同在为根除我的猿猴本性而不懈斗争,特别对我,更是任重道远。
  有一天晚上,大概是什么节庆日,留声机里传来阵阵歌声,一个当官的在人群中来回踱着步子,我趁人没注意,抄起一只人们无意中放在铁笼子跟前的烧酒瓶子。这当儿,人们的目光已颇有兴趣地集中到我身上,我在众目之下老练地打开瓶塞,毫不犹豫地把酒瓶举到唇边,眉不皱、嘴不歪,瞪大眼珠,放开喉咙,活像一个喝酒老手,一股脑儿把一瓶酒喝了个底朝天。这一举动对于老师和我来说是一个多么了不起的胜利啊!紧接着,我就像个艺术家,而不再是绝望者把酒瓶一扔。这回我虽说忘了摸肚子,却干了件更漂亮的事情,由于力量的推动,意志的轰鸣,我竟用人的声音清脆而又准确地喊了一声“哈罗!”就是这声呼喊使我跃进了人类的行列,随之也招来了人类的回复,“听啊,他说话了!”我顿时感到,这回声像一个亲吻霎时传遍我大汗淋漓的身体。
  我再重复一遍,模仿人类对我来说并无吸引力,我模仿他们的目的只是寻找一条出路而已。就说刚刚取得的胜利也并无太大进展,紧接着我人的嗓音又失灵了,几个月之后才恢复。我从此对烧酒的厌恶感越发强烈,然而,我的方向却从此确定。
  当我在汉堡被送到第一个驯兽人手里的时候,我很快就意识到,有两种可能摆在我的面前:要么进动物园,要么进马戏团。我毫不迟疑地告诉自己,要全力以赴进马戏团,这就是出路。动物园只不过是一个新的铁笼子,一旦进入,便失去一切。
  先生们,我在拼命地学啊!人只有在被迫的情况下,在想寻找出路的时候才玩命地学习。学习要不惜代价,要用鞭子督促自己,即使有些小的不到之处也要撕心裂肺。猿猴的天性滚动着离我而去,消失得无影无踪,而我的第一个老师自己却险些变成了猿猴,他不得不放下教鞭被送进一家精神病院,好在不久他就出院了。
  可我累垮了很多老师,有几个甚至是同时被撂倒的。我对自己能力的自信心越来越强,公众目睹着我的进步,我的前途一片光明。这时我就自己聘请老师,把他们安排在五间相通的房间里,我穿梭于各个房间同时听他们讲课。
  我的进步一发不可收拾!知识的光芒从四面八方照进我开化的大脑。我不否认我感到了幸福,我也敢说,我并没有把自己看得太高,当时没有,现在更不会有,我付出了世人所没有过的努力才使我获得了欧洲人具有的一般文化水平。这件事本身似乎不足挂齿,但又有些不同寻常,因为正是它帮助我走出铁笼,为我开辟了人生之路。德语有句俗语叫做“溜之大吉”,这俗话说得太精彩了,我恰恰是这么做的。在无法选择自由的情况下我没有其他的路可走。
  回眸我走过的道路和迄今达到的目标时,我既无抱怨又无得意。双手插进裤子口袋里,桌子上放着葡萄酒,我半躺半坐在摇椅中目视窗外。来访者光临,我照章接待。我的代理人守在外屋的接待室里,我一按铃,他便进来听候吩咐。几乎每天晚上都是演出,我的成就简直可以说是达到了顶点。当我深更半夜从宴会、学术团体、或是愉快的聚会回到家里时,总有一只半驯化的小母猩猩在等着我,我又如猿猴一般在她身边获得舒心的快乐。白天我可不愿见她,因为从她眼睛里流露出一种半驯化野兽特有的不知所措的凶光,这只有我才看得出来,对此我无法忍受。
  总的说来,我达到了我想要达到的目标。我所付出的努力不能说是不值得。此外,我不想叫人去作某种评判,我只想传播知识,我仅仅是作了个报告,对您们,尊贵的科学院的先生们也只能如此回复。

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