第13章 梦中儿女

Dream Children

[英]查尔斯·兰姆/Charles Lamb

孩子们都爱听长辈们年少时的故事，他们会对素未谋面的叔公或老祖母展开想象。在一个夜晚，正是带着这种精神，我的孩子们围在我身边，听他们老祖母菲尔德的故事。菲尔德住在诺福克郡的一所大房子里（要比我们现在住的大一百倍）。那是一个发生过悲剧的地方——至少当地人都这样认为。孩子们最近从《林中的孩子》这首民谣中知道了诺福克郡大房子里的故事。实际上，孩子们、凶残叔叔和知更鸟的整个故事，竟然被雕刻在那所房子客厅的壁炉架上，直到一个愚蠢而又富有的人把它变成一块现代的大理石。故事讲到这里时，艾丽丝脸上表现出酷似她亲爱的母亲的神情，温柔得让人不忍心再去责难。

接着，我开始讲他们的老祖母是多么虔诚、多么善良，多么受人爱戴与尊敬，尽管她并不是那所房子的主人，而只是一名管家（然而，从某种意义上讲，她也算是女主人），效忠于她的主人。房子的主人更喜欢住在已经买下的附近的那所房子里，它更新、更时髦。而他们的老祖母仍住在那里，好像那房子已成为她自己的一样。在她的有生之年，她尽量维护着那所老房子的体面，后来房子颓败不堪，几乎要倒塌了，而且房屋中古旧的装饰物都被拆卸下来，装到了主人的另一所房子里。这些装饰物竖在那里，像是有人把最近他们看到的被盗古墓里的东西，堆放在贵妇人华丽的镀金客厅里一样。讲到这里，约翰笑了，似乎在说“那的确够愚蠢”。然后，我告诉他们老祖母是怎样、什么时候去世的，方圆数英里的穷人和一些贵族都参加了她的葬礼，以表达对她的怀念与尊敬之情。因为他们的老祖母是那样一个善良、虔诚的女人，她熟记所有的赞美诗，以及《新约》的大部分内容。这时，艾丽丝不禁伸开双手表示敬仰。

再后来，我告诉他们菲尔德老祖母曾经多么的高挑、美丽，年轻时被公认为是最出色的舞者——这时，艾丽丝的小右脚不由自主地踏起了节奏，直到看到我神情严肃，才停止——我正在说他们的老祖母曾是村里跳舞跳得最好的。后来，她得了一种叫癌症的可怕疾病，疾病的痛苦给了她很大打击，然而，从来没有击倒她的精神，也没有使她屈服。她的精神依旧高昂，因为她是那样的善良和虔诚。我还告诉孩子们，她过去是怎样习惯于一个人睡在那所空荡荡的大房子里的。她相信，午夜的时候能看见两个孩子的灵魂，它们在她房间附近的楼梯上滑上滑下。但是，她说：“那两个天真的幽灵并不会伤害我。”尽管现在女佣会陪我睡，但是我还是常常感到害怕，因为我连她的一半善良和虔诚都没有，从来都是。不过，我也从来没有见过那两个鬼魂。这时，约翰挑起他的眉毛，想要表现得很勇敢。

接着，我谈到菲尔德祖母对孙子、孙女有多好。宗教节日的时候，她总会接我们到那所大院里去。在那里，我尤其喜欢一个人待上几个小时，凝视着那12个古老的恺撒——古罗马皇帝的半身像，直到这些古旧的大理石似乎复活了，或者我也同他们一样变成了大理石。那所巨宅里有大而空的房间、破旧的帷帐、舞动的织锦和雕刻的橡木面板（上面的镀金几乎剥蚀干净了）。我曾不知疲倦地在那里游荡。有时，我也会到古式的大花园里去，那里几乎也只是我一个人，除了偶尔会有一个园丁从我身边经过。那里油桃与蜜桃挂满了围墙，可是我从来没有勇气去采摘，因为那些都是禁果，除非偶尔为之。还因为我更喜欢在古老而略显忧郁的紫杉或冷杉间穿行，摘一些红浆果或冷杉球果。除了欣赏，这些东西什么用处都没有。或者躺在鲜嫩的草地上，让花园中各种美好的气息围绕在我身边；或者在橘园晒太阳，在那暖洋洋的阳光里，我幻想着自己同橘子一起慢慢成熟；或者看雅罗鱼在鱼塘里急速地游来游去，在池底，随处可以看到一只阴沉的梭子鱼傲慢地停在水中央，似乎在嘲笑雅罗鱼的鲁莽行为。比起蜜桃、油桃、橘子，以及其他这类对孩子有诱惑的东西，我更喜欢这忙中有闲的娱乐。这时，约翰把一串葡萄偷偷放回盘中，艾丽丝也一定看到了葡萄，约翰原本是想要和她一起分享的，而此刻两人都若无其事地抛弃了它。

然后，我稍稍提高了声音继续讲下去。我告诉他们，尽管他们的曾祖母非常疼爱所有的孙子孙女，但是她更宠爱他们的伯伯——约翰，因为他是一个非常英俊、非常勇敢的小伙子，也是我们的孩子王。他不像我们闷闷不乐地独自待在凄凉的角落。在像我们这样大的时候，他就会骑上能找到的最狂野的马，早晨驾驭着它跑遍半个村子，在猎人们出发的时候加入他们的队伍。不过，他也喜欢那座古老的房子和花园，只是他的精力过于旺盛，忍受不了那里的束缚。他们的伯伯成年后，依旧那样英俊神武，让每个人都钦慕不已，他们的曾祖母更是引以为荣。当我由于疼痛不能走路，也就是跛脚的时候，年长于我的伯父便常常背着我走上数英里。再后来，他也瘸了腿，而我恐怕在他烦躁、痛苦的时候，不能总是给他足够的照顾，也不能记起在我腿瘸时，他是怎样悉心呵护我的。而当他死的时候，尽管只过了一个小时，我却觉得过了好久，这就是生与死的距离。起初，我还能让自己平静地接受他的离去，但是后来，这种痛苦时时折磨着我。尽管我没有像其他人那样伤心落泪，幻想自己可以代替他去死，但是我整日整夜地思念他，直到那时我才知道我多么爱他。我想念他的善良，想念他的固执，希望他能活过来，再跟他吵吵架（因为我们有时会吵），而不想失去他。失去他，我的不安就像他被大夫手术时一样令人痛苦。——这时，孩子们哭了。他们问他们身上的丧服是否是为约翰伯伯穿的。他们抬着头，请求我不要再讲述有关伯伯的事情，而是谈谈他们已故的漂亮妈妈。

于是，我给孩子们讲道，在追求那个精灵般的女子七年的时间里，我时而充满希望，时而又失望不已，然而始终不渝。我尽量以孩子们能理解的程度，向他们解释少女身上的羞怯、敏感与回绝——当我突然转向艾丽丝时，第一个艾丽丝的灵魂在小艾丽丝的眼里活生生地出现了，以至于我有些怀疑是谁站在我的面前。而当我定睛看去时，两个孩子在我的视野中渐渐地变得模糊，越来越远，直到消失，只在最远的地方剩下哀伤的面孔。尽管她们什么也没说，但我仿佛听到了他们的话：“我们不是艾丽丝的孩子，不是你的孩子，我们也不是孩子。艾丽丝的孩子叫巴尔曼爸爸。我们什么也不是，连梦幻都不是。我们只是可能存在的人物，在真实存在之前，我们必须要遗忘河边苦苦等上数百万年，然后才有一个名字。”——我突然惊醒，发现自己静静地坐在我的轮椅上。原来，我在那里睡着了，忠诚的布里吉特还守在我身边，但是约翰（或者詹姆斯）永远失去了踪影。

Children love to listen to stories about their elders， when they were children； to stretch their imagination to the conception of a traditionary great-uncle or great-aunt， whom they never saw. It was in this spirit that my little ones crept about me the other evening to hear about their great-grandmother Field， who lived in a great house in Norfolk (a hundred times bigger than that in which they and papa lived) which had been the scene—so at least it was generally believed in that part of the country—of the tragic incidents which they had lately become familiar with from the ballad of the Children in the Wood. Certain it is that the whole story of the children and their cruel uncle was to be seen fairly carved out in wood upon the chimney-piece of the great hall， the whole story down to the Robin Redbreasts； till a foolish rich person pulled it down to set up a marble one of modern inventionin its stead， with no story upon it. Here Alice put out one of her dear mother's looks， too tender to be called upbraiding.

Then I went on to say， how religious and how good their great-grandmother Field was， how beloved and respected by everybody， though she was not indeed the mistress of this greenhouse， but had only the charge of it (and yet in some respects she might be said to be the mistress of it too) committed to her by the owner， who preferred living in a newer and more fashionable mansion which he had purchased somewhere in the adjoining county； but still she lived in it in a manner as if it had been her own， and kept up the dignity of the great house in a sort while she lived， which afterwards came to decay， and was nearly pulled down， and all its old ornaments stripped and carried away to the owner's other house， where they were set up， and looked as awkward as if someone were to carry away the old tombs they had seen lately at the Abbey， and stick them up in Lady C.'s tawdry gilt drawing-room. Here John smiled， as much as to say， "that would be foolish indeed." And then I told how， when she came to die， her funeral was attended by a concourse of all the poor， and some of the gentry too， of the neighborhood for many miles round， to show their respect for her memory， because she had been such a good and religious woman's good indeed that she knew all the Psaltery by heart， aye， and a great part of the Testament besides. Here little Alice spread her hands.

Then I told what a tall， upright， graceful person their great-grandmother Field once was； and how in her youth she was esteemed the best dancer—here Alice's little right foot played an involuntary movement， till upon my looking grave， it desisted-the best dancer， I was saying， in the county， till a cruel disease， called a cancer， came， and bowed her down with pain； but it could never bend her good spirits， or make them stoop， but they were still upright， because she was so good and religious. Then I told how she was used to sleep by herself in a lone chamber of the great lone house； and how she believed that an apparition of two infants was to be seen at midnight gliding up and down the great staircase near where she slept， but she said "Those innocents would do her no harm；" and how frightened used to be， though in those days I had my maid to sleep with me， because I was never half so good or religious as she—and yet I never saw the infants. Here John expanded all his eyebrows and tried to look courageous.

Then I told how good she was to all her grand-children， having us to the great house in the holidays， where I in particular used to spend many hours by myself， in gazing upon the old busts of the Twelve Caesars， that had been Emperors of Rome， till the old marble heads would seem to live again， or I to be turned into marble with them， how I never could be fired with roaming about that huge mansion， with its vast empty moms， with their worn-out hangings， fluttering tapestry and carved oaken panicle， withthe gilding almost rubbed out—sometimes in the spacious old-fashioned gardens， which I had almost to myself， unless when now and then a solitary gardening man would cross me—and how the nectarines and peaches hung upon the walls， without my ever offering to pluck them， because they were forbidden fruit， unless now and then，—and because I had more pleasure in strolling about among the old melancholy-looking yew trees， or the firs， and picking up the red berries， and the firapples， which were good for nothing but to look at—or in lying about upon the fresh grass， with all the fine garden smells around me—or basking in the orangery， till I could almost fancy myself ripening， too； along with the oranges and the limes in that grateful warmth—or in watching the dace that darted to and fro in the fish pond， at the bottom of the graven， with here and there a great sulky pike hanging midway down the water in slient state， as if it mocked at their impertinent frisking，—I had more pleasure in these busy-idle diversions than in all the sweet flavors of peaches， nectarines， oranges， and such like common baits of children. Here John slyly deposited back upon the plate a bunch of grapes， which， not unobserved by Alice， he had meditated dividing with her， and both seemed willing to relinquish them for the present as irrelevant.

Then， in somewhat a more heightened tone， I told how， though their great-grandmother Field loved all her grand-children， yet in an especial manner she might be said to love their uncle， John L.—， because he was so handsome and spirited a youth， and a king to the rest of us； and， instead of moping about in solitary comers， like some of us， he would mount the most mettlesome horse he could get， when but an imp no bigger than themselves， and make it carry him half over the county in a morning， and join the hunters when there were any out—and yet he loved the old great house and gardens too， but had too much spirit to be always pent up within their bounties—and how their uncle grew up to man's estate as brave as he was handsome， to the admiration of everybody， but of their great-grandmother Field most especially； and how he used to carry me upon his back when I was a lame—footed boy—for he was a good bit older than me—many a mile when I could not walk for pain；—and how in after life he became lame-footed too， and I did not always (I fear) make allowances enough for him when he was impatient and in pain， nor remember sufficiently how considerate he had been to me when I was lame-footed； and how when he died， though he had not been dead an hour， it seemed as if he had died a great while ago， such a distance there is betwixt life and death； and how I bore his death ask thought pretty well at first， but afterwards it haunted and haunted me； and though I did not cry or take it to heart as some do， and as I think he would have done if I had died， yet I missed him all day long， and knew not till then how much I had loved him， I missed his kindness， and I missed his crossness， and wished him to be alive again， to be quarrelling with him (for wequarreled sometimes)， rather than not have him again， and was as uneasy without him， as he their poor uncle must have been when the doctor took off his limbo. Here the children fell a crying， and asked if their little mourning which they had on was not for uncle John， and they looked up， and prayed me not to go on about their uncle， but to tell them some stories about their pretty dead mother.

Then I told how for seven long years， in hope sometimes， sometimes in despair， yet persisting ever， I courted the fair Alice W. and， as much as children could understand， I explained to them what coyness， and difficulty， and denial meant in madness—when suddenly turning to Alice， the soul of the first Alice looked out at her eyes with such a reality of representment， that I became in doubt which of them stood there before me， or whose that bright hair was； and while stood gazing， both the children gradually grew fainter to my view， receding， and still receding， fill nothing at last but two mournful features were seen in the utter most distance， which， without speech， strangely impressed upon me the effects of speech： "We are not of Alice， nor of thee， nor are we children at all. The children of Alice call Barman father. We are nothing； less than nothing， and dreams. We are only what might have been， and must wait upon the tedious shores of Lethe millions of ages before we have existence， and a name" and immediately awaking， I found myself quietly seated in my bachelor armchair， where I had fallen asleep， with the faithful Bridget unchanged by my side—but John L. (or James Elia) was gone forever.