第15章 Death of Little Nell 小内尔之死

Charles Dickens, 1812-1870, one of the greatest novelists of modern, times, was born in Portsmouth, but spent nearly all his life in London. His father was a conscientious man, but lacked capacity for getting a livelihood. In consequence, the boy's youth was much darkened by poverty. It has been supposed that he pictured his father in the character of "Micawber." He began his active life as a lawyer's apprentice; but soon left this employment to become a reporter. This occupation he followed from 1831 to 1836. His first book was entitled "Sketches of London Society, by Boz."This was followed, in 1837, by the "Pickwick Papers, " a work which suddenly brought much fame to the author. His other works followed with great rapidity, and his last was unfinished at the time of his death. He was buried in Westminster Abbey. Mr. Dickens visited America in 1842, and again in 1867. During his last visit, he read his works in public, in the principal cities of the United States.

The resources of Dickens's genius seemed exhaustless. He copied no author, imitated none, but relied entirely on his own powers. He excelled especially in humor and pathos. He gathered materials for his works by the most careful and faithful observation. And he painted his characters with a fidelity so true to their different individualities that, although they sometimes have a quaint grotesqueness bordering on caricature, they stand before the memory as living realities. He was particularly successful in the delineation of the joys and griefs of childhood. "Little Nell" and little "Paul Dombey" are known, and have been loved and wept over, in almost every household where the English language is read. His writings present very vividly the wants and sufferings of the poor, and have a tendency to prompt to kindness and benevolence. His works have not escaped criticism. It has been said that "his good characters act from impulse, not from principle, " and that he shows "a tricksy spirit of fantastic exaggeration." It has also been said that his novels sometimes lack skillful plot, and that he seems to speak approvingly of conviviality and dissipation. "The Old Curiosity Shop, " from which the following extract is taken, was published in 1840.

She was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free from trace of pain, so fair to look upon. She seemed a creature fresh from the hand of God, and waiting for the breath of life; not one who had lived, and suffered death. Her couch was dressed with here and there some winter berries and green leaves, gathered in a spot she had been used to favor. "When I die, put near me something that has loved the light, and had the sky above it always."These were her words.

She was dead. Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell was dead. Her little bird, a poor, slight thing the pressure of a finger would have crushed, was stirring nimbly in its cage, and the strong heart of its child mistress was mute and motionless forever! Where were the traces of her early cares, her sufferings, and fatigues? All gone. Sorrow was dead, indeed, in her;but peace and perfect happiness were born, imaged in her tranquil beauty and profound repose.

And still her former self lay there, unaltered in this change. Yes! the old fireside had smiled upon that same sweet face; it had passed, like a dream, through haunts of misery and care; at the door of the poor schoolmaster on the summer evening, before the furnace fire upon the cold wet night, at the still bedside of the dying boy, there had been the same mild and lovely look. So shall we know the angels, in their majesty, after death.

The old man held one languid arm in his, and had the small hand tight folded to his breast for warmth. It was the hand she had stretched out to him with her last smile; the hand that had led him on through all their wanderings. Ever and anon he pressed it to his lips; then hugged it to his breast again, murmuring that it was warmer now, and, as he said it, he looked in agony to those who stood around, as if imploring them to help her.

She was dead, and past all help, or need of help. The ancient rooms she had seemed to fill with life, even while her own was waning fast, the garden she had tended, the eyes she had gladdened, the noiseless haunts of many a thoughtful hour, the paths she had trodden, as it were, but yesterday, could know her no more.

"It is not, " said the schoolmaster, as he bent down to kiss her on the cheek, and gave his tears free vent, "it is not in this world that heaven's justice ends. Think what earth is, compared with the world to which her young spirit has winged its early flight, and say, if one deliberate wish, expressed in solemn tones above this bed, could call her back to life, which of us would utter it? "

She had been dead two days. They were all about her at the time, knowing that the end was drawing on. She died soon after daybreak. They had read and talked to her in the earlier portion of the night; but, as the hours crept on, she sank to sleep. They could tell by what she faintly uttered in her dreams, that they were of her journeyings with the old man;they were of no painful scenes, but of people who had helped them, and used them kindly;for she often said "God bless you! " with great fervor.

Waking, she never wandered in her mind but once, and that was at beautiful music, which, she said, was in the air. God knows. It may have been. Opening her eyes, at last, from a very quiet sleep, she begged that they would kiss her once again. That done, she turned to the old man, with a lovely smile upon her face, such, they said, as they had never seen, and could never forget, and clung, with both her arms, about his neck. She had never murmured or complained; but, with a quiet mind, and manner quite unaltered, save that she every day became more earnest and more grateful to them, faded like the light upon the summer's evening.

The child who had been her little friend, came there, almost as soon as it was day, with an offering of dried flowers, which he begged them to lay upon her breast. He told them of his dream again, and that it was of her being restored to them, just as she used to be. He begged hard to see her: saying, that he would be very quiet, and that they need not fear his being alarmed, for he had sat alone by his young brother all day long, when he was dead, and had felt glad to be so near him. They let him have his wish; and, indeed, he kept his word, and was, in his childish way, a lesson to them all.

Up to that time, the old man had not spoken once, except to her, or stirred from the bedside. But, when he saw her little favorite, he was moved as they had not seen him yet, and made as though he would have him come nearer. Then, pointing to the bed, he burst into tears for the first time, and they who stood by, knowing that the sight of this child had done him good, left them alone together.

Soothing him with his artless talk of her, the child persuaded him to take some rest, to walk abroad, to do almost as he desired him. And, when the day came, on which they must remove her, in her earthly shape, from earthly eyes forever, he led him away, that he might not know when she was taken from him. They were to gather fresh leaves and berries for her bed.

And now the bell, the bell she had so often heard by night and day, and listened to with solemn pleasure, almost as a living voice, rung its remorseless toll for her, so young, so beautiful, so good. Decrepit age, and vigorous life, and blooming youth, and helpless infancy, —on crutches, in the pride of health and strength, in the full blush of promise, in the mere dawn of life, gathered round her. Old men were there, whose eyes were dim and senses failing, grandmothers, who might have died ten years ago, and still been old, the deaf, the blind, the lame, the palsied, the living dead, in many shapes and forms, to see the closing of that early grave.

Along the crowded path they bore her now, pure as the newly fallen snow that covered it, whose day on earth had been as fleeting. Under that porch, where she had sat when heaven, in its mercy, brought her to that peaceful spot, she passed again, and the old church received her in its quiet shade.

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查尔斯·狄更斯（1812～1870年），近现代最伟大的小说家之一，出生在朴次茅斯，但他人生中的大部分时间都在伦敦生活。狄更斯的父亲是一个善良人，但是他的父亲比较平庸，连养家糊口的本领也没有。因此，狄更斯的童年时光被贫穷蒙上了厚厚的阴影。为了谋生，他开始给一个律师当学徒，但是很快他就退出了这个行当，成为一名记者。1831～1836年，他一直从事记者工作。他的第一本书是《伦敦上流社会剪影，博兹》，1837年，他又出版了《匹克·威克外传》，该书让狄更斯声名远扬。之后，他又出版了不少作品，在他去世的时候，还有不少未完成的作品。他被安葬在威斯敏斯特大教堂。狄更斯于1842年探访美国，并于1867年再次踏上美国的土地。在他最后一次访问美国期间，他在美国主要城市的公共场合公开宣读了他的作品。

狄更斯的灵感似乎是无穷无尽的。他从不模仿别人，完全依靠自己的能力去写作。他尤其擅长写幽默和伤感的故事。他会通过谨慎和虔诚的观察来为他的写作提供必要的材料和思路。他所描绘的人物都拥有各自不同的性格，虽然他们有时看上去十分怪诞、离奇，犹如一幅讽刺画，但他们就站在记忆里，仿佛活脱脱的现实。他在刻画童年的欢乐和悲伤上尤为成功。“小内尔”和“小保罗·董贝”是众所周知的两个人物，他们受到读者的爱戴，读者还会为他们的遭遇而啜泣，在以英语为母语的国家，几乎家家户户都知道这些故事。他的作品往往能够非常生动地描绘出穷人的需求和他们所遭受的痛苦，在写作的过程中，他经常把宽厚和仁慈加入到故事中去。不过，他的作品并没有免遭批评和质疑。有人曾经说过他笔下的角色是靠冲动行事，而绝非靠原则行事，但是狄更斯解释道：“这不过是一种夸张、带有奇思妙想的写作手法。”也有人说，他的小说缺乏故事情节，毫无技巧性可言。下面的文章节选自《老古玩店》，该书发表于1840年。

她死了。没有哪个人的睡相会像她的那样漂亮和平静，完全没有任何痛苦的痕迹，看上去是那么有魅力。她就像是上帝亲手制造的精灵，在静静地等待生命的气息注入体内，而不是那个本来还活着，却仍要痛苦等待死神降临的人。她的床上洒满了冬青果和翠绿的树叶，这些都是她在外面玩的时候摘来的。“等我死了以后，请把我和那些热爱光芒、永远被云朵包裹起来的东西放在一起，让它们与我相伴。”这是她生前说过的话。

她死了。可爱、温柔、耐心、有礼貌的内尔死了。她养的那只小鸟，那只可怜的、用一个手指就能轻易压死的小东西，还在笼子里优哉地来回跳跃着，它的小女主人那本来强壮的心却突然沉默了，永远停止了跳动。她小时候那些悉心照料的习惯都跑到哪里去了？她悲痛的遭遇和疲惫不堪又都跑到哪里去了？它们全都消失了。她的哀愁已经死了，但是，祥和与快乐却在此时诞生了——她静谧的美貌和香甜的睡梦正体现了这一点。

她之前的躯体仍旧躺在这里，她看上去并没有因为这些变化而有所改变。是的！昔日的炉火在熟悉的甜蜜面孔上映照出了笑容。它在脸上一闪而过，就像是一场梦境，萦绕着悲痛和忧虑。在夏日的傍晚，矗立在那可怜的老师门口，严寒潮湿的夜晚就躺在炉火的前面，那个垂死的男孩默默地站在病床前，这张柔和、可爱的笑脸是不是让你感到似曾相识？于是，我们懂得了人死后，天使们崇高的威严。

老人把一只脆弱的手紧紧地握在手里，他把那只手放在自己的胸前温暖着。正是这只手，在最后笑着离开这个世界的时候，她把这只手伸向了老人；正是这只手，带领他周游四方。他不时地把这只手放在自己嘴边，然后再把手紧紧地放在自己胸口，自言自语道：“现在可比之前暖和多了。”在他嘟囔的时候，他用充满绝望的眼神看着站在周围的人群，仿佛在苦苦哀求他们，求他们帮助小女孩重获新生。

她死了，任何人都帮不了她，或者说她根本不需要帮助。即使是在她的生命加速走向尽头的时候，也只有她才能让那些破旧不堪的房子焕发生机，她曾经精心照料过的花园，眼睛里不再充满喜悦的神情，在她苦思冥想时常常流连的地方，就连她昨天还走过的小路，也不会再看见她的身影。

“不，”老师说，他弯下腰，温柔地吻了小女孩的面颊，泪水浸湿了他的脸庞，“来自天堂的公正审判绝不会在这个世界终结的。想象一下，与那个能够让她幼小的心灵展翅飞翔的世界相比，尘世算得了什么。如果在这张床上用严肃的语句表达人们的美好愿望，期盼她能够重生，我们当中又有谁能说出这样的话呢？”

她两天前就死了。在她临死的时候，大家都在场，他们都知道，该来的终究还是会来的。破晓之后没多久，她就死了。在前半夜的时候，大家给她讲故事听，跟她聊天，但是，随着时间的流逝，她进入了梦乡。大家都清楚地听到了她在睡梦中说的话，他们能够听出她所说的关于那位老者周游四海的事情。那里面并没有什么悲惨痛苦的场景，包括曾经不遗余力帮助他们和对他们十分友好的人，因为她总是非常热情地说：“愿上帝保佑你们！”

她在头脑清醒的时候，意志十分坚定，不过，有一次她说她听到了一首非常悠扬的乐曲。她说的是不是真的，恐怕只有上帝才知道。最终，她睁开双眼，从那场安详的梦境中醒了过来，她恳求周围的人能再一次亲吻她。于是，大家纷纷来到她身边，轻柔地吻她。她转过身，面对着那位老人，她的脸上洋溢着幸福的微笑。大家都说，他们从来没有见过这样的笑容，这样的笑容令他们永生难忘。她紧紧地把那位老人抱在怀中。她没有自言自语，也没有抱怨什么，而是怀着平和的心情以及永不改变的态度，这样做令她每一天都对他们更加真挚和感恩，最后，她就像一道亮光一样在夏日的夜晚慢慢地退去。

她小时候的一个玩伴也来了——那个男孩子来到了这里，他手里捧着一束风干的花，他恳求他们把这束花放在她胸前。他再一次把自己做过的梦讲给大家听，这个梦原本是她留着讲给众人听的，就像她以前那样。他苦苦哀求他们让他见那女孩一面。他说，他会很安静的，他们不用担心他被吓到，因为他一整天都和他的小弟弟在一起，当他死的时候，会觉得有他陪在身边真好。于是，大家同意了他的请求，果不其然，他信守了承诺，用小孩的方式教育了所有在场的人。

直到那时，那位老人也没有说话，他一句话也没有说，除了对她，他一直守候在她的床边。但是，当他看到她那位小时候的玩伴的时候，他露出了大家从未看到的一面，他甚至有想要进一步靠近那孩子的想法。然后，他冲床边指了指，在看到她的第一眼之后，那个男孩再也无法抑制自己的感情，伤心地哭了起来，那些围在小女孩身边的人都明白这个孩子能够治愈他那受伤的心灵，于是，他们打算给他们两个人一点自由的空间。

男孩开始用感情真挚的语言谈着她，借此机会安慰老人，让他去休息休息，到处走走，或者做一些他希望他去做的事。当清晨到来的时候，他们必须当着众人的面，把女孩圣洁的身体永远地移走。他只好把男孩支开，免得他得知她将要从他身边永远离开而精神崩溃。大家聚在一起，往她的床上撒新鲜的树叶和浆果。

现在那个钟声，就是她经常听到的钟声，她曾经不分昼夜用一种肃穆的欢快心情聆听的钟声，就像被赋予了生命一样的钟声，就这么冷酷地为她敲响了。她是那么年轻、那么漂亮、那么出色。年过花甲的人、充满活力的成年人、富有朝气的青年人，还有需要照顾的小孩——都挤了上来，他们有的以健康和强壮而自豪，有的拥有无限美好的前程，有的刚刚踏入人生的轨道——他们都聚到小女孩的墓前。老人们站在那里，他们的眼神暗淡无光，知觉也不听使唤了，那些本该在十年前就到达生命尽头的祖母们，仍然活着——聋人、盲人、瘸子、瘫痪的人、各种各样的活死人，他们都赶在棺材被合上之前，过来看最后一眼。

他们抬着她在挤满人群的道路上艰难前行，她全身洁白得像刚飘落到地面的雪花，谁都没有想到，她在这个世界上的日子竟然如此短暂。人们抬着她穿过门廊，那是她以前经常玩的地方，怜悯的上帝把她带到了这片静谧的地方，她再次从这里经过，古老的教堂接受了她，把她安葬在那片宁静的树荫下。