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The Mirror of the Sea-Part4_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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to the mark. In her handling a ship will not put up with a mere



pretender, as, for instance, the public will do with Mr. X, the

popular statesman, Mr. Y, the popular scientist, or Mr. Z, the



popular - what shall we say? - anything from a teacher of high

morality to a bagman - who have won their little race. But I would



like (though not accustomed to betting) to wager a large sum that

not one of the few first-rate skippers of racing yachts has ever



been a humbug. It would have been too difficult. The difficulty

arises from the fact that one does not deal with ships in a mob,



but with a ship as an individual. So we may have to do with men.

But in each of us there lurks some particle of the mob spirit, of



the mob temperament. No matter how earnestly we strive against

each other, we remain brothers on the lowest side of our intellect



and in the instability of our feelings. With ships it is not so.

Much as they are to us, they are nothing to each other. Those



sensitive creatures have no ears for our blandishments. It takes

something more than words to cajole them to do our will, to cover



us with glory. Luckily, too, or else there would have been more

shoddy reputations for first-rate seamanship. Ships have no ears,



I repeat, though, indeed, I think I have known ships who really

seemed to have had eyes, or else I cannot understand on what ground



a certain 1,000-ton barque of my acquaintance on one particular

occasion refused to answer her helm, thereby saving a frightful



smash to two ships and to a very good man's reputation. I knew her

intimately for two years, and in no other instance either before or



since have I known her to do that thing. The man she had served so

well (guessing, perhaps, at the depths of his affection for her) I



have known much longer, and in bare justice to him I must say that

this confidence-shattering experience (though so fortunate) only



augmented his trust in her. Yes, our ships have no ears, and thus

they cannot be deceived. I would illustrate my idea of fidelity as



between man and ship, between the master and his art, by a

statement which, though it might appear shockingly sophisticated,



is really very simple. I would say that a racing-yacht skipper who

thought of nothing else but the glory of winning the race would



never attain to any eminence of reputation. The genuine masters of

their craft - I say this confidently from my experience of ships -



have thought of nothing but of doing their very best by the vessel

under their charge. To forget one's self, to surrender all



personal feeling in the service of that fine art, is the only way

for a seaman to the faithful discharge of his trust.



Such is the service of a fine art and of ships that sail the sea.

And therein I think I can lay my finger upon the difference between



the seamen of yesterday, who are still with us, and the seamen of

to-morrow, already entered upon the possession of their



inheritance. History repeats itself, but the special call of an

art which has passed away is never reproduced. It is as utterly



gone out of the world as the song of a destroyed wild bird.

Nothing will awaken the same response of pleasurable emotion or



conscientious endeavour. And the sailing of any vesselafloat is

an art whose fine form seems already receding from us on its way to



the overshadowed Valley of Oblivion. The taking of a modern

steamship about the world (though one would not minimize its



responsibilities) has not the same quality of intimacy with nature,

which, after all, is an indispensable condition to the building up



of an art. It is less personal and a more exact calling; less

arduous, but also less gratifying in the lack of close communion



between the artist and the medium of his art. It is, in short,

less a matter of love. Its effects are measured exactly in time



and space as no effect of an art can be. It is an occupation which

a man not desperately subject to sea-sickness can be imagined to



follow with content, without enthusiasm, with industry, without




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