Dream Children

[英]查爾斯·蘭姆/Charles Lamb

孩子們都愛聽長輩們年少時的故事，他們會對素未謀面的叔公或老祖母展開想象。在一個夜晚，正是帶著這種精神，我的孩子們圍在我身邊，聽他們老祖母菲爾德的故事。菲爾德住在諾福克郡的一所大房子里（要比我們現在住的大一百倍）。那是一個發生過悲劇的地方——至少當地人都這樣認為。孩子們最近從《林中的孩子》這首民謠中知道了諾福克郡大房子里的故事。實際上，孩子們、兇殘叔叔和知更鳥的整個故事，竟然被雕刻在那所房子客廳的壁爐架上，直到一個愚蠢而又富有的人把它變成一塊現代的大理石。故事講到這里時，艾麗絲臉上表現出酷似她親愛的母親的神情，溫柔得讓人不忍心再去責難。

接著，我開始講他們的老祖母是多么虔誠、多么善良，多么受人愛戴與尊敬，盡管她并不是那所房子的主人，而只是一名管家（然而，從某種意義上講，她也算是女主人），效忠于她的主人。房子的主人更喜歡住在已經買下的附近的那所房子里，它更新、更時髦。而他們的老祖母仍住在那里，好像那房子已成為她自己的一樣。在她的有生之年，她盡量維護著那所老房子的體面，后來房子頹敗不堪，幾乎要倒塌了，而且房屋中古舊的裝飾物都被拆卸下來，裝到了主人的另一所房子里。這些裝飾物豎在那里，像是有人把最近他們看到的被盜古墓里的東西，堆放在貴婦人華麗的鍍金客廳里一樣。講到這里，約翰笑了，似乎在說“那的確夠愚蠢”。然后，我告訴他們老祖母是怎樣、什么時候去世的，方圓數英里的窮人和一些貴族都參加了她的葬禮，以表達對她的懷念與尊敬之情。因為他們的老祖母是那樣一個善良、虔誠的女人，她熟記所有的贊美詩，以及《新約》的大部分內容。這時，艾麗絲不禁伸開雙手表示敬仰。

再后來，我告訴他們菲爾德老祖母曾經多么的高挑、美麗，年輕時被公認為是最出色的舞者——這時，艾麗絲的小右腳不由自主地踏起了節奏，直到看到我神情嚴肅，才停止——我正在說他們的老祖母曾是村里跳舞跳得最好的。后來，她得了一種叫癌癥的可怕疾病，疾病的痛苦給了她很大打擊，然而，從來沒有擊倒她的精神，也沒有使她屈服。她的精神依舊高昂，因為她是那樣的善良和虔誠。我還告訴孩子們，她過去是怎樣習慣于一個人睡在那所空蕩蕩的大房子里的。她相信，午夜的時候能看見兩個孩子的靈魂，它們在她房間附近的樓梯上滑上滑下。但是，她說：“那兩個天真的幽靈并不會傷害我。”盡管現在女傭會陪我睡，但是我還是常常感到害怕，因為我連她的一半善良和虔誠都沒有，從來都是。不過，我也從來沒有見過那兩個鬼魂。這時，約翰挑起他的眉毛，想要表現得很勇敢。

接著，我談到菲爾德祖母對孫子、孫女有多好。宗教節日的時候，她總會接我們到那所大院里去。在那里，我尤其喜歡一個人待上幾個小時，凝視著那12個古老的愷撒——古羅馬皇帝的半身像，直到這些古舊的大理石似乎復活了，或者我也同他們一樣變成了大理石。那所巨宅里有大而空的房間、破舊的帷帳、舞動的織錦和雕刻的橡木面板（上面的鍍金幾乎剝蝕干凈了）。我曾不知疲倦地在那里游蕩。有時，我也會到古式的大花園里去，那里幾乎也只是我一個人，除了偶爾會有一個園丁從我身邊經過。那里油桃與蜜桃掛滿了圍墻，可是我從來沒有勇氣去采摘，因為那些都是禁果，除非偶爾為之。還因為我更喜歡在古老而略顯憂郁的紫杉或冷杉間穿行，摘一些紅漿果或冷杉球果。除了欣賞，這些東西什么用處都沒有。或者躺在鮮嫩的草地上，讓花園中各種美好的氣息圍繞在我身邊；或者在橘園曬太陽，在那暖洋洋的陽光里，我幻想著自己同橘子一起慢慢成熟；或者看雅羅魚在魚塘里急速地游來游去，在池底，隨處可以看到一只陰沉的梭子魚傲慢地停在水中央，似乎在嘲笑雅羅魚的魯莽行為。比起蜜桃、油桃、橘子，以及其他這類對孩子有誘惑的東西，我更喜歡這忙中有閑的娛樂。這時，約翰把一串葡萄偷偷放回盤中，艾麗絲也一定看到了葡萄，約翰原本是想要和她一起分享的，而此刻兩人都若無其事地拋棄了它。

然后，我稍稍提高了聲音繼續講下去。我告訴他們，盡管他們的曾祖母非常疼愛所有的孫子孫女，但是她更寵愛他們的伯伯——約翰，因為他是一個非常英俊、非常勇敢的小伙子，也是我們的孩子王。他不像我們悶悶不樂地獨自待在凄涼的角落。在像我們這樣大的時候，他就會騎上能找到的最狂野的馬，早晨駕馭著它跑遍半個村子，在獵人們出發的時候加入他們的隊伍。不過，他也喜歡那座古老的房子和花園，只是他的精力過于旺盛，忍受不了那里的束縛。他們的伯伯成年后，依舊那樣英俊神武，讓每個人都欽慕不已，他們的曾祖母更是引以為榮。當我由于疼痛不能走路，也就是跛腳的時候，年長于我的伯父便常常背著我走上數英里。再后來，他也瘸了腿，而我恐怕在他煩躁、痛苦的時候，不能總是給他足夠的照顧，也不能記起在我腿瘸時，他是怎樣悉心呵護我的。而當他死的時候，盡管只過了一個小時，我卻覺得過了好久，這就是生與死的距離。起初，我還能讓自己平靜地接受他的離去，但是后來，這種痛苦時時折磨著我。盡管我沒有像其他人那樣傷心落淚，幻想自己可以代替他去死，但是我整日整夜地思念他，直到那時我才知道我多么愛他。我想念他的善良，想念他的固執，希望他能活過來，再跟他吵吵架（因為我們有時會吵），而不想失去他。失去他，我的不安就像他被大夫手術時一樣令人痛苦。——這時，孩子們哭了。他們問他們身上的喪服是否是為約翰伯伯穿的。他們抬著頭，請求我不要再講述有關伯伯的事情，而是談談他們已故的漂亮媽媽。

于是，我給孩子們講道，在追求那個精靈般的女子七年的時間里，我時而充滿希望，時而又失望不已，然而始終不渝。我盡量以孩子們能理解的程度，向他們解釋少女身上的羞怯、敏感與回絕——當我突然轉向艾麗絲時，第一個艾麗絲的靈魂在小艾麗絲的眼里活生生地出現了，以至于我有些懷疑是誰站在我的面前。而當我定睛看去時，兩個孩子在我的視野中漸漸地變得模糊，越來越遠，直到消失，只在最遠的地方剩下哀傷的面孔。盡管她們什么也沒說，但我仿佛聽到了他們的話：“我們不是艾麗絲的孩子，不是你的孩子，我們也不是孩子。艾麗絲的孩子叫巴爾曼爸爸。我們什么也不是，連夢幻都不是。我們只是可能存在的人物，在真實存在之前，我們必須要遺忘河邊苦苦等上數百萬年，然后才有一個名字。”——我突然驚醒，發現自己靜靜地坐在我的輪椅上。原來，我在那里睡著了，忠誠的布里吉特還守在我身邊，但是約翰（或者詹姆斯）永遠失去了蹤影。

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.