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Then I must learn how to be happy. Once I knew it, or thought I knew it, by instinct. It was always springtime once in my heart. My temperament was akin to joy. I filled my life to the very brim with pleasure, as one might fill a cup to the very brim with wine. Now I am approaching life from a completely new standpoint, and even to conceive happiness is often extremely difficult for me. I remember during my first term at Oxford reading in Pater’s Renaissance[81.1]—that book which has had such a strange influence over my life—how Dante places low in the Inferno those who wilfully live in sadness, and going to the College Library and turning to the passage in the Divine Comedy where beneath the dreary marsh lie those who were “sullen in the sweet air,” saying for ever through their sighs:
Tristi fummo
nell’ aer dolce che dal sol s’ allegra.[81.2]
I knew the Church condemned accidia, but the whole idea seemed to me quite fantastic, just the sort of sin, I fancied, a priest who knew nothing about real life would invent. Nor could I understand how Dante, who says that “sorrow remarries us to God,” [81.3] could have been so harsh to those who were enamoured of melancholy, if any such there really were. I had no idea that some day this would become to me one of the greatest temptations of my life[81a].
接着我必须学会快乐。 我一度凭直觉懂得快乐，或者以为自己懂得快乐。心中曾一直春意盎然。我的气质与快乐是如鱼得水，生活满满当当的尽是欢娱，就像把酒斟到了杯沿。而今我是从一个全新的立足点来考虑生活，即使是想象一下快乐是什么，常常都极为困难。记得第一个学期在牛津读佩特的《文艺复兴史研究》，那本书对我的生活有着奇特的影响；看到但丁把那些动辄悲悲戚戚的人放在了地狱的下层，就到学院图书馆翻到《神曲》中的那一段，只见在可怕的沼泽地下躺着那些 “在甜美的空气中愁眉苦脸”的人，永远是一声一叹地念叨着：
那时我们愁眉苦脸
而阳光中甜美的空气喜气洋洋。
我知道教会谴责精神上的懒散忧郁，但那时觉得这整个想法似乎颇有妙趣，就这个罪，我猜想，也是哪个对真实生活一点也不了解的牧师编出来的。我也不明白但丁，为什么既然说了 “悲哀让我们与上帝重新结合”，又对那些沉迷于忧伤的人那么狠心，如果真有那样的人的话。当时怎么也想不到，有一天忧伤竟会成为我生活中一个最大的诱惑[81a]。
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