他拒絕了諾貝爾獎的獎金，卻在83歲時獲得了奧斯卡獎。他是唯一同時獲得這兩項殊榮的人——而他對此卻一笑置之，覺得頗具諷刺意味。
1925年11月，瑞典文學院宣布喬治蕭伯納榮獲諾貝爾文學獎。
大多數作家都會為此歡欣鼓舞。
但蕭伯納卻感到惱火。
69歲的他已是世界上最著名的劇作家之一。他的作品——《賣花女》、《人與超人》、《聖女貞德》——在歐洲和美國的劇院裡座無虛席。
他富有，聲名顯赫，卻對委員會的認可毫無興趣。
不僅如此，蕭伯納幾十年來一直批評文學獎。他認為文學獎腐蝕了藝術，將創造力變成了競爭，將真正的作品簡化為一場競賽，由評審來評判誰的才華最高。
彷彿激情也能像體育比賽一樣被評分。
所以，當諾貝爾獎的到來讓蕭伯納感到棘手。
他不想冒犯瑞典，也不想玷污阿爾弗雷德·諾貝爾的遺志，但他同樣不願在原則上妥協。
他的處理方式很符合蕭伯納的風格：接受榮譽，拒絕獎金。
他把這個獎項比喻為「拋給已經安全抵達岸邊的游泳者的救生艇」。
言下之意：為什麼要把榮譽頒給一個不需要的人？為什麼不去支持那些苦苦掙扎的藝術家呢？
瑞典學院震驚了。英國政府擔心國際關係。朋友們勸他接受獎金。
但蕭伯納在一點上立場堅定：他一分錢也不會留下12萬瑞典克朗的獎金。
然後，他做了一件非同尋常的事。
蕭伯納用全部獎金創立了英瑞文學基金會——一個致力於將瑞典文學翻譯成英語的組織。
幾十年來，這筆資金資助了許多翻譯項目，讓英語讀者有機會接觸到他們原本可能永遠不會發現的斯堪的納維亞作家。
蕭伯納將原本可能屬於個人榮耀的事業，轉化為對文化的貢獻。
他並不追求個人榮譽，而是希望瑞典的聲音能被更多人聽到。他渴望搭建連結不同世界的橋樑。
然而，蕭伯納的獲獎諷刺意味並未就此結束。
十三年後，1939年，在第11屆奧斯卡金像獎頒獎典禮上，蕭伯納以電影版《賣花女》（Pygmalion）榮獲最佳改編劇本獎。
（這部劇作後來啟發了音樂劇《窈窕淑女》（My Fair Lady）。）
83歲的蕭伯納成為史上唯一一位同時獲得諾貝爾獎和奧斯卡獎的人。
這位畢生都在嘲諷獎項的人，如今卻同時擁有了文學和電影界的最高榮譽。
據說，蕭伯納一直將奧斯卡小金人擺放在壁爐架上——這彷彿是對他自身矛盾的一種心照不宣的承認。
幾十年來，他一直堅稱獎項毫無意義。
如今，他已囊括了世界上兩個最負盛名的獎項。
但蕭伯納對待榮譽的態度，揭示的遠不止矛盾之處。
這是一種實踐中的哲學。
他真心相信，藝術是服務人類，而非藝術家本身。他認為，創造力是一種責任，而非通往榮耀的道路。他認為，榮譽可能會變成一座牢籠——將創作者困於重複安全的套路，而不是用令人不安的真相挑戰觀眾。
在漫長的一生中，蕭伯納始終有意識地運用自己的影響力。
他倡導社會主義、婦女選舉權、素食主義（他堅持素食超過60年）、拼字改革，以及無數其他進步事業。
他的戲劇並非逃避現實之作——而是對維多利亞時代道德、階級不平等和宗教虛偽的直面。
當被問及為何創作如此具有爭議性的作品時，蕭伯納說：
“我的幽默方式就是說真話。這是世界上最有趣的笑話。”
他是認真的。他的機智是一種武器。他的幽默是一種傳遞思想的媒介，令權貴們感到不安。
蕭伯納享年94歲，寫作直到生命盡頭。他於1950年11月去世，一生創作了60多部戲劇、無數散文，以及足以填滿圖書館的爭議。
如今，光是《賣花女》一劇就被改編成多部電影，並啟發了音樂劇史上最熱門的劇目之一。他的戲劇至今仍在世界各地上演。他犀利的智慧依然能戳穿虛偽。
但蕭伯納接受諾貝爾獎的決定比他獲得的獎項更重要。
因為它提醒我們，認可——名譽、獎項、讚譽——可能會變成陷阱。
它們會誘使藝術家們安於現狀，追逐認可而非追求真理，維護名譽而非為誠實的創作而冒險。
蕭伯納拒絕了這個陷阱。
他接受了世界上最負盛名的文學獎，並將獎金捐贈出去，用於服務文學本身。
他贏得了好萊塢的最高榮譽，卻對此一笑置之。
他用94年的時間證明，原則比讚譽更持久；信念比名望更重要；真正的藝術家創作是為了挑戰世界，而不是為了被世界所頌揚。
蕭伯納稱諾貝爾獎是為已經抵達彼岸的人準備的救生艇。
他把獎金捐出來用於將瑞典文學翻譯成英文。
然後他…
He refused Nobel Prize money, then won an Oscar at 83. The only person ever to win both—and he laughed at the irony.
November 1925. The Swedish Academy announced that George Bernard Shaw had won the Nobel Prize in Literature.
Most writers would have celebrated.
Shaw was annoyed.
At 69 years old, he was already one of the most famous playwrights in the world. His works—Pygmalion, Man and Superman, Saint Joan—filled theaters across Europe and America.
He was wealthy, celebrated, and completely uninterested in validation from committees.
More than that, Shaw had spent decades criticizing literary prizes. He believed they corrupted art, turned creativity into competition, and reduced genuine work to a contest with judges deciding whose genius ranked highest.
As if passion could be scored like athletics.
So when the Nobel came calling, Shaw had a problem.
He didn't want to insult Sweden or dishonor Alfred Nobel's legacy, but he also refused to compromise his principles.
His solution was characteristically Shaw: accept the honor, refuse the money.
He called the prize "a lifeboat thrown to a swimmer who has already reached the shore in safety."
Translation: Why give recognition to someone who doesn't need it? Why not support struggling artists instead?
The Swedish Academy was stunned. The British government worried about international relations. Friends pressured him to just take the money.
But Shaw held firm on one point: he wouldn't keep a single krona of the 120,000 Swedish kronor prize.
Then he did something extraordinary.
Shaw took the entire prize amount and created the Anglo-Swedish Literary Foundation—an organization dedicated to translating Swedish literature into English.
For decades, that money funded translations that introduced English-speaking readers to Scandinavian authors they would never have discovered otherwise.
Shaw had transformed what could have been personal glory into cultural service.
He didn't want recognition for himself—he wanted Swedish voices to reach new audiences. He wanted to build bridges between worlds.
But the universe wasn't finished with Shaw's prize irony.
Thirteen years later, in 1939, at the 11th Academy Awards ceremony, George Bernard Shaw won an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay for the film version of Pygmalion.
(The same play that would later inspire the musical My Fair Lady.)
At 83 years old, Shaw became the only person in history to win both a Nobel Prize and an Academy Award.
The man who'd spent his entire career mocking prizes now held the highest honors in both literature and film.
Shaw reportedly kept the Oscar statuette on his mantle—a winking acknowledgment of his own contradictions.
He'd spent decades insisting prizes were meaningless.
And now he'd collected the two most prestigious awards in the world.
But Shaw's attitude toward recognition revealed something deeper than contradiction.
It was philosophy in action.
He genuinely believed that art served humanity, not artists. That creativity was responsibility, not a path to glory. That recognition could become a prison—trapping creators into repeating safe formulas instead of challenging audiences with uncomfortable truths.
Throughout his long life, Shaw used his platform deliberately.
He advocated for socialism, women's suffrage, vegetarianism (he was vegetarian for over 60 years), spelling reform, and countless progressive causes.
His plays weren't escapism—they were confrontations with Victorian morality, class inequality, and religious hypocrisy.
When asked why he wrote such controversial work, Shaw said:
"My way of joking is to tell the truth. It's the funniest joke in the world."
He meant it. His wit was a weapon. His humor was a delivery system for ideas that made powerful people squirm.
Shaw lived to 94, writing until nearly the end. He died in November 1950, having produced over 60 plays, countless essays, and enough controversy to fill libraries.
Today, Pygmalion alone has been adapted into multiple films and inspired one of musical theater's biggest hits. His plays are still performed worldwide. His sharp wit still cuts through pretension.
But Shaw's Nobel Prize decision matters more than his awards.
Because it reminds us that recognition—fame, prizes, accolades—can become traps.
They can seduce artists into playing it safe. Into chasing approval instead of truth. Into protecting reputations instead of risking everything for honest work.
Shaw refused that trap.
He took the world's most prestigious literary prize and gave the money away to serve literature itself.
He won Hollywood's highest honor and laughed at it.
He spent 94 years proving that principles outlast praise. That conviction matters more than celebrity. That true artists create to challenge the world—not to be celebrated by it.
George Bernard Shaw called the Nobel Prize a lifeboat for someone who'd already reached shore.
He gave away the money to translate Swedish literature into English.
Then he won an Oscar at 83 and became the only person ever to hold both honors.
And he spent his whole life demonstrating that the only prize worth keeping is the courage to speak truth—even when that truth makes the powerful uncomfortable.
Because recognition fades. Statues collect dust.
But conviction? Conviction endures.
Shaw understood what most people spend their lives forgetting:
The real prize isn't approval—it's integrity.
He rejected Nobel money. He won an Oscar. He laughed at them both.
And he left behind a legacy no committee could ever measure.
0514 2012 Mon. 晴 看台灣演義的郭小莊-- 她的創作過程最值得思考 與林懷民 的創作生涯的比較 很令人深思: 俞大綱全集/燈火下樓台/林懷民/郭小莊 “你姑姑有兩本書還沒還我。”我姑姑也有一次有點不好意思 的說：“這本《胡適文存》還是他的。”還有一本蕭伯納的《聖女貞德》，德國出版的，她很喜歡那米色的袖珍本，說：“他這套書倒是好。”她和我母親跟胡適先 生同桌打過牌。戰後報上登著胡適回國的照片，不記得是下飛機還是下船，笑容滿面，笑得像個貓臉的小孩，打著個大圓點的蝴蝶式領結，她看著笑了起來說：“胡適 之這樣年輕！”
卡洛說麥克兄已出院
.........賢夫環顧四周
我問他，請問，整潔程度合乎老爺標準嗎？
他微笑，說了一句套語：home, sweet home...
改正憶胡適之 (張愛玲) 十幾個錯字 張愛玲的筆力也很不簡單 用了相當多的象徵
去年Ken Su 在該文有留言 原著我二三十年有現在卻只能用二手文章校
我昨天看台灣演義的郭小莊-- 她的創作過程最值得思考
與林懷民 的創作生涯的比較 很令人深思: 俞大綱全集/燈火下樓台/林懷民/郭小莊
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