R. Duncan

　　Observe a child; any one will do. You will see that not a day passes in which he does not find something or other to make him happy, though he may be in tears the next moment. Then look at a man; any one of us will do. You will notice that weeks and months can pass in which day is greeted with nothing more than resignation1, and endure with every polite indifference. Indeed, most men are as miserable as sinners though they are too bored to sin-perhaps their sin is their indifference. But it is true that they so seldom smile that when they do we do not recognize their face, so distorted is it from the fixed mask we take for granted. And even then a man can not smile like a child, for a child smiles with his eyes, whereas a man smiles with his lips alone. It is not a smile; but a grin; something to do with humor, but little to do with happiness. And then, as anyone can see, there is a point (but who can define that point?) when a man becomes an old man, and then he will smile again.

　　It would seem that happiness is something to do with simplicity, and that it is the ability to extract pleasure form the simplest things-such as a peach stone, for instance.

　　It is obvious that it is nothing to do with success. For Sir Henry Stewart was certainly successful. It is twenty years ago since he came down to our village from London, and bought a couple of old cottages, which he had knocked into one. He used his house as weekend refuge. He was a barrister. And the village followed his brilliant career with something almost amounting to paternal pride.

　　I remember some ten years ago when he was made a King’s Counsel, Amos and I, seeing him get off the London train, went to congratulate him. We grinned with pleasure; he merely looked as miserable as though he’d received a penal sentence. It was the same when he was knighted; he never smiled a bit, he didn’t even bother to celebrate with a round of drinks at the "Blue Fox". He took his success as a child does his medicine. And not one of his achievements brought even a ghost of a smile to his tired eyes.

　　I asked him one day, soon after he’d retired to potter about his garden, what it was like to achieve all one’s ambitions. He looked down at his roses and went on watering them. Then he said, "The only value in achieving one’s ambition is that you then realize that they are not worth achieving." Quickly he moved the conversation on to a more practical level, and within a moment we were back to a safe discussion on the weather. That was two years ago.

　　I recall this incident, for yesterday, I was passing his house, and had drawn up my cart just outside his garden wall. I had pulled in from the road for no other reason than to let a bus pass me. As I set there filling my pipe, I suddenly heard a shout of sheer joy come from the other side of the wall.

　　I peered over. There stood Sir Henry doing nothing less than a tribal war dance of sheer unashamed ecstasy. Even when he observed my bewildered face staring over the wall he did not seem put out or embarrassed, but shouted for me to climb over.

　　"Come and see, Jan. Look! I have done it at last! I have done it at last!"

　　There he was, holding a small box of earth in his had. I observed three tiny shoots out of it.

　　"And there were only three!" he said, his eyes laughing to heaven.

　　"Three what?" I asked.

　　"Peach stones", he replied. "I’ve always wanted to make peach stones grow, even since I was a child, when I used to take them home after a party, or as a man after a banquet. And I used to plant them, and then forgot where I planted them. But now at last I have done it, and, what’s more, I had only three stones, and there you are, one, two, three shoots," he counted.

　　And Sir Henry ran off, calling for his wife to come and see his achievement-his achievement of simplicity.

　　仔細觀察一個小孩，隨便哪個小孩都行。你會發現，他每天都會發現一兩件令他快樂的事情，盡管過一會兒他可能會哭哭啼啼。再看看一個大人，我們中間任何人都行。你會發現，一周復一周，一月又一月，他總是以無可奈何的心情迎接新的一天的到來，以溫文爾雅、滿不在乎的心情忍受這一天的消逝。確實，大多數人都跟罪人一樣苦惱難受，盡管他們太百無聊賴，連罪惡都不犯---也許他們的冷漠就是他們的罪孽。真的， 他們難得一笑。如果他們偶爾笑了，我們會認不出他們的容貌，他們的臉會扭曲走樣，不再是我們習以為常的固定不變的面具。即使在笑的時候，大人也不會像小孩兒那樣，小孩兒用眼睛表示笑意，大人只用嘴唇。這實際上不是笑，只是咧咧嘴，表示一種心情，但跟快樂無關。然而，人人都能發現，人到了一定地步（但又有誰能解釋這是什么地步呢？），成了老人，他又會笑了。

　　看起來，幸福同純真的赤子之心有關系，幸福是一種能從最簡單的事物里---譬如說，核桃---汲取快樂的能力。

　　幸福顯然同成功毫不相干。因為亨利·斯圖亞特爵士當然是個十分成功的人。20年前，他從倫敦來到我們的村子，買了好幾座舊房屋，推倒后建了一所大房子。他把這所房子當作度周末的場所。他是位律師。我們村里的人帶著一種幾近父輩的驕傲心情追隨他那輝煌的業績。

　　我記得，大約十年前他被任命為王室法律顧問，阿莫斯和我看見他走下倫敦開來的火車便上前去表示祝賀。我們高興的笑著；而他的表情卻跟接到判刑通知書一樣悲慘。他受封當爵士時也是如此，他沒有一絲笑容，他甚至不屑于在藍狐貍酒館請我們大家喝杯酒。他對待成功就像小孩吃藥一樣，任何一項成就都未能使他疲憊的眼睛里露出一絲笑意。

　　他退休以后可以在花園里隨便走走，干些輕松的閑活。有一天，我問他一個問題：一個人實現了一切雄心壯志是什么滋味？他低頭看這玫瑰花，澆他的水。過了一會兒，他說："實現雄心壯志的唯一價值是你發現他們都不值得追求。"他立刻改變話題討論有實際意義的事情，我們很快談論起萬無一失的天氣問題。這是兩年前的事。

　　我想起這件事情，因為昨天我經過他的家，把我的大車停在他花園的院墻外邊。我從大路把車趕到他花園外邊是為了給一輛公共汽車讓路。我坐在車上裝煙斗時忽然聽見院墻里面傳來一聲欣喜欲狂的歡呼。
我向墻內張望。里面是亨利爵士，他歡蹦亂跳像在跳部落出征的舞蹈，表現出毫無顧忌的真正的快樂。他發現了我在墻頭張望的迷惑不解的面孔，他似乎毫不生氣，也不感到窘迫，而是大聲呼喊叫我爬過墻去。
"快來看，杰。看呀！我終于成功了！我終于成功了！"

　　他站在那里，手里拿著一小盒土。我發現土里有三顆小芽。

　　"就只有這三個！"他眉開眼笑地說。

　　"三個什么東西？"我問。

　　"核桃。"他回答道，"我一直想種核桃，從小就想，當時我參加晚會后老是把核桃帶回家，后來長大成人參加宴會后也這樣。我以前常常種核桃，可是過后就忘了我種在什么地方。現在，我總算成功了。還有，我只有三個核桃。你瞧，一、二、三棵芽。"他數著說。

　　亨利爵士跑了起來，叫他的妻子來看他的成功之作--他的單純純樸的成功之作。