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LESSON 13
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 thestrong 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 fireupon 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 fillwith 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 onedeliberate 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 hisdream 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 himgood, 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.
【中文阅读】
她死了。没有哪种睡眠能够如此美丽和平静，如此没有丝毫痛苦的迹象，看上去又那般端庄。她仿佛上帝之手造出来的精灵，等待注入生命的呼吸，而不是一个曾经鲜活但被苦难夺走生命的人。她的床上到处洒满了冬青果和绿树叶，都是从她先前喜欢玩耍的地方摘来的。“在我死了以后，就把那些爱好光明、永远被云空遮蔽的东西放在我旁边，与我相伴。”这些都是她在世时说过的话。
她死了。可爱、温柔、耐心、高贵的耐儿死了。她那只小鸟，那只可怜、脆弱、一个手指头也可以把它捏碎的小东西，仍然在它的笼子里轻快地上下跳跃着，而它那小女主人本来强壮的心却沉默下去，永远静止不动了！她那早忧、她的痛苦还有疲劳的痕迹都到哪里去了？一切都不复存在了。她的悲哀真的死了，但安宁和真正的幸福却诞生了——反映在她那平静的美丽和沉酣的睡眠上了。
但是从前的她依旧存在，没有因为这个变故而有所改变。一切故我！旧日的炉火在那个同样甜蜜的面容上映出微笑。萦绕于灾难和忧虑，它就像一个幻梦倏然而逝。夏日的黄昏立在那可怜的教师门口，寒冷潮湿的夜晚睡在那座熔炉的前面，当那个男孩子垂死的时候静静地站在病榻旁边，就是这同一个温柔、可爱的容颜。于是，我们晓得了人死之后天使们的威仪。
老人把一只柔弱的胳膊握在手里，把那只小手贴在他的胸前暖着。就是这只手，她带着最后的笑容伸给他；同样是这只手，引领他四处漂泊。他不时地把这只手递到唇边，然后又把它紧紧地握在自己胸前，嘟嘟囔囔地说比先前温暖多了。说这番话时，他悲戚地望着四周站着的人，仿佛哀求他们帮她活过来。
她死了，一切都已经无济于事了。尽管在她自己的生命凋残得这般迅速的时期，似乎只有她才能赋予生气的那些破旧的房间，她照看过的花园，她赋予欢乐的目光，在许多陷于沉思的时刻常常流连的地方，连她昨天还走过的小径，都不会再见到她的踪影了。
“不会的，”教师说着，弯下腰吻她的面颊，泪水涟涟，“天国的判决绝对不是要在这个尘世了结的。倘若拿尘世和她那年轻的灵魂振翅飞上去的那个世界比较的话，尘世又算得了什么呢。不妨说，倘若在这张床榻上而用严肃的语气表达一种愿望，真诚期盼唤回她的生命，我们当中有谁能讲出这番话呢？”
她已经死了两天了。当时，他们全都围在她身旁，知道她就要断气了。天刚放亮
她就咽气了。前半夜时，他们给她念书听，和她说着什么，可是随着时间流逝，她又沉睡过去了。从她在梦中隐约的梦呓，他们分辨出她说的是和那位老者旅行的事情；其中没有令人痛苦心酸的场面，涉及帮助过他们和对他们很和善的一些人，因为她总是非常真诚热切地说：“上帝保佑你们！”
醒着的时候，她神志一直很清醒，只有一次她说空中飘过动听的音乐。只有上帝知道是不是这样。也许是真的。最后，她从非常安详的睡眠中睁开眼睛，请求他们再吻她一遍。吻过之后，她转过头对着老者，脸上浮出惹人怜爱的笑容——这笑容是那般妩媚动人，他们说，他们从未见过，永远无法忘怀。她伸手紧紧拦住他的脖子。她从来没有发过牢骚，也没有抱怨过，最后她带着平静的心情和丝毫没有改变的态度，只不过她每天对它们更加虔敬和感恩了，最后她像一道光线在一个夏日的黄昏中慢慢隐去了。
就在天刚一亮，那个和她一直很合得来的朋友——那个男孩子赶来了，手上捧着一束干枯了的花，他请求把花放在她的胸前。他把自己做的梦又讲给大家听，这个梦本来她准备讲给大家的，她一向这样。他请求大家让他看看她的样子：说些知心话，他说他会非常安静的，他们不必担心他被吓着，因为一整天里他都和弟弟在一起。当他死的时候，会觉得快乐就在自己身旁相伴。他们让他得偿所愿，他也确实照自己说的那样，以孩子的方式给所有人上了一课。
直到那时为止，老人不曾说过一句话，除了对她之外，也没有离开床边半步。但是，当他看到她那很合得来的朋友时，他们从未见过他如此动容，甚至流露出想要那孩子更靠近一些的意思。然后，他指着床，第一次落泪，站在旁边的大伙儿晓得这孩子的到来能慰藉他那颗破碎的心，于是便把他们单独留下来。
那孩子用他未加修饰的方式谈着她，借此安慰老者，劝他去休息一会儿，出去散散步，或者做一些他所希望做的事情。待天色大亮，他们必须把她那尘世的形体在众人尘世的目光目送下永远地移走了。他只能把他支开，免得使他知道她不会再回到他身边后承受不住。他们马上就要为她的灵床洒下新鲜树叶和浆果。
现在那个钟声，她过去常常听到的钟声，不论晚上白天总是用一种肃穆的愉快心情静静地听着的钟声，几乎把它当做一种被赋予生命的声音，就要无情地为她徐徐敲响了。她那样年轻，那般美丽，又是何等善良。上了年纪的老人、健康的成年人、朝气蓬勃的年轻人、需要父母帮助的小孩子——一齐涌了出来，这些人或以健康和体力为傲，或前途一片光明，或正值人生之黎明——都一起聚在她的墓前。老年人在那里，他们老眼昏花，知觉也衰退了；祖母们也在那里，本来十年前她们就到寿了，不过仍然活着——聋子、瞎子、瘸子、半身不遂的人、各式各样的活死人，在坟墓即将封闭时都赶来看最后一眼。
他们从挤满各色人等的道路中抬着她走，她全身洁白得像是刚刚落到地面的雪花儿，而她在尘世上的日子竟转瞬即逝。人们抬着她从门廊底下穿过，那是她从前经常坐着玩耍的地方，当上天仁慈地把她带到那个安静的地方时，她又一次从这里经过，那古老的教堂把她接到它那静谧的荫蔽处安葬。