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【分类】世界名著
-[作者: 维克多-雨果]
阅读：[123499]
Part 1 Book 1 Chapter 8 Philosophy after Drinking
19世纪30年代的法国。富人乘坐马车，用金餐具吃喝。穷人没有工作，没有食物，没有希望——他们是穷苦人，起义一触即发。法国人民还记得1789年的法国大革命。当时，民众在巴黎街头筑起街垒，死去的人数以千计。这样的时刻又要到来了吗? 这是冉阿让的故事。他坐了19年的牢，终于恢复了自由身。可是，他怎么生活，到哪里去找工作呢?像他这样一个人，还有什么希望呢?这也是沙威的故事，他是一个督察，一个残忍的人，一个冷酷的人。他的人生只有一个目标——把冉阿让再次送进大牢。这还是芳汀的故事，芳汀和她的女儿珂赛特。她们的故事是怎样改变了冉阿让的一生?这也是马吕斯的故事。他是巴黎的一名学生，做好了为起义而牺牲的准备——或是为爱情而死。最后，还有伽弗洛什——一个在巴黎街头流浪的孩子，他没有家，没有亲人，没有鞋穿……可他的脸上总是挂着笑容，心中总是有歌儿在欢唱。
不过，我们要先从冉阿让讲起……
France in the 1830s. The rich ride in carriages, and eat from gold plates. The poor have no work, no food, no hope – they are Les Misérables, and rebellion is in the air. France remembers the French Revolution in 1789, when the people built barricades in the streets of Paris, and the dead were counted in thousands. Is that time coming again?
This is the story of Jean Valjean. A prisoner for nineteen years, now at last he is a free man. But how can he live, where can he find work? What hope is there for a man like him? It is also the story of Javert, a police inspector, a cruel man, a hard man. He wants one thing in life – to send Valjean back to prison. And it is Fantine’s story too, Fantine and her daughter Cosette. How does their story change Valjean’s life? And it is also Marius’s story. He is a student in Paris, ready to die for the rebellion – or for love. And last, there is Gavroche – a boy of the Paris streets, with no home, no family, no shoes... But a boy with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.
But we begin with Jean Valjean...
19世纪30年代的法国。富人乘坐马车，用金餐具吃喝。穷人没有工作，没有食物，没有希望——他们是穷苦人，起义一触即发。法国人民还记得1789年的法国大革命。当时，民众在巴黎街头筑起街垒，死去的人数以千计。这样的时刻又要到来了吗? 这是冉阿让的故事。他坐了19年的牢，终于恢复了自由身。可是，他怎么生活，到哪里去找工作呢?像他这样一个人，还有什么希望呢?这也是沙威的故事，他是一个督察，一个残忍的人，一个冷酷的人。他的人生只有一个目标——把冉阿让再次送进大牢。这还是芳汀的故事，芳汀和她的女儿珂赛特。她们的故事是怎样改变了冉阿让的一生?这也是马吕斯的故事。他是巴黎的一名学生，做好了为起义而牺牲的准备——或是为爱情而死。最后，还有伽弗洛什——一个在巴黎街头流浪的孩子，他没有家，没有亲人，没有鞋穿……可他的脸上总是挂着笑容，心中总是有歌儿在欢唱。
不过，我们要先从冉阿让讲起……
France in the 1830s. The rich ride in carriages, and eat from gold plates. The poor have no work, no food, no hope – they are Les Misérables, and rebellion is in the air. France remembers the French Revolution in 1789, when the people built barricades in the streets of Paris, and the dead were counted in thousands. Is that time coming again?
This is the story of Jean Valjean. A prisoner for nineteen years, now at last he is a free man. But how can he live, where can he find work? What hope is there for a man like him? It is also the story of Javert, a police inspector, a cruel man, a hard man. He wants one thing in life – to send Valjean back to prison. And it is Fantine’s story too, Fantine and her daughter Cosette. How does their story change Valjean’s life? And it is also Marius’s story. He is a student in Paris, ready to die for the rebellion – or for love. And last, there is Gavroche – a boy of the Paris streets, with no home, no family, no shoes... But a boy with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.
But we begin with Jean Valjean...
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我们曾经谈到过一个元老院元老，那是个精明果断的人，一生行事，直截了当，对于人生所能遇到的难题，如良心、信誓、公道、天职之类从不介怀；他一往直前地向着他的目标走去，在他个人发达和利益的道路上，他从不曾动摇过一次。他从前当过检察官，因处境顺利，为人也渐趋温和了，他绝不是个有坏心眼的人。他在生活中审慎地抓住那些好的地方、好的机会和好的财源之后，对儿子、女婿、亲戚甚至朋友，也尽力帮些小忙。其余的事，在他看来，好象全是傻事。他善诙谐，通文墨，因而自以为是伊壁鸠鲁①的信徒，实际上也许只是比戈·勒白朗②之流亚。对无边的宇宙和永恒的事业以及“主教老头儿的种种无稽之谈”，他常喜欢用解颐的妙语来加以述说。有时，他会带着和蔼的高傲气派当面嘲笑米里哀先生，米里哀先生总由他嘲笑。
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①伊壁鸠鲁（Epicure，公元前341?70），希腊唯物主义哲学家，主张享乐，他的所谓享乐是精神恬静愉快，不动心。
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②比戈·勒白朗（PigaultLebrun），十八世纪法国色情小说家。
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不知是在举行什么半官式典礼时，那位伯爵（就是那位元老）和米里哀先生都应在省长公馆里参加宴会。到了用甜品时，这位元老已经略带酒意，不过态度仍旧庄重，他大声说：“主教先生，我们来扯扯。一个元老和一个主教见了面，就难免要彼此挤眉弄眼。一狼一狈，心照不宣。我要和您谈句知心话。我有我自己一套哲学。”
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“您说得对，”主教回答，“人总是睡下来搞他的哲学的，何况您是睡在金屋玉堂中的，元老先生。”
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元老兴致勃发，接着说：
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“让我们做好孩子。”
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“就做顽皮鬼也不打紧。”主教说。
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“我告诉您，”元老说，“阿尔让斯侯爵、皮隆、霍布斯、内戎①先生这些人都不是等闲之辈。在我的图书室里的这些哲学家的书边上都是烫了金的。”
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“和您自己一样，元老先生。”主教抢着说。
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元老接着说：
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“我恨狄德罗②，他是个空想家，大言不惭，还搞革命，实际上却信仰上帝，比伏尔泰更着迷。伏尔泰嘲笑过尼登，他不应当那么做，因为尼登的鳝鱼已经证明上帝的无用了。一匙面糊加一滴酸醋，便可以代替圣灵。假设那一滴再大一点，那一匙也再大一点，便是这世界了。人就是鳝鱼。又何必要永生之父呢？主教先生，关于耶和华的那种假设叫我头痛。它只对那些外弱中干的人有些用处。打倒那个惹人厌烦的万物之主！虚空万岁！虚空才能叫人安心。说句知心话，并且我要说个痛快，好好向我的牧师交代一番，我告诉您，我观点明确。您那位东劝人谦让、西劝人牺牲的耶稣瞒不过我的眼睛。那种说法是吝啬鬼对穷鬼的劝告。谦让！为什么？牺牲！为什么？我从来没有见过一只狼为另一只狼的幸福而牺牲它自己。我们还是游戏人间的好。人为万物之灵。我们应当有高明的哲学。假使目光如鼠，又何必生为万物之灵？让我们嘻嘻哈哈过这一世吧。人生，就是一切。说人在旁的地方，天上、地下，某处，有另外一个来生，我绝不信那些鬼话。哼！有人要我谦让，要我牺牲，那么，一举一动，我都得谨慎小心，我得为善恶、曲直、从违等问题来伤脑筋。为什么？据说对自己的行为我将来得做个交代。什么时候？死后。多么好的梦！在我死了以后，有人捉得住我那才妙呢。您去叫一只鬼手抓把灰给我看看。我们都是过来人，都是揭过英蓉仙子的亵衣的人，让我们说老实话吧，这世上只有生物，既无所谓善，也无所谓恶。我们应当追求实际，一直深入下去，穷其究竟，有什么大不了的！我们应当嗅出真理，根究到底，把真理掌握在自己的手里。那样它才会给你一种无上的快乐。那样你才会充满信心，仰天大笑。我一点不含糊，我。主教先生，永生之说只能哄哄小孩。哈！多么中听的诺言！您去信您的吧！骗鬼的空头支票。人是灵魂，人可以成为天使，人可以在肩胛骨上生出一对蓝翅膀。有福气的人可以从这一个星球游到那一个星球，这句话是不是德尔图良③说的，请您告诉我。就算是的。我们会变成星际间的蝗虫。还会看见上帝，等等，等等。什么天堂，妄谈而已。上帝是种荒谬透顶的胡说。我当然不会在政府公报里说这种话。朋友之间，却不妨悄悄地谈谈。酒后之言嘛。为了天堂牺牲人世，等于捕雀而捉影。为永生之说所愚弄！还不至于那么蠢。我是一无所有的。我叫做一无所有伯爵。元老院元老。在我生前，有我吗？没有。在我死后，有我吗？没有。我是什么呢？我不过是一粒和有机体组合起来的尘土。在这世界上，我有什么事要做？我可以选择，受苦或享乐。受苦，那会把我引到什么地方去呢？引到一无所有。而我得受一辈子的苦。享乐又会把我引到什么地方去呢？也是引到一无所有。而我可以享一辈子的乐。我已经选定了。不吃就得被吃。做牙齿总比做草料好些。那正是我聪明的地方。过后，听其自然，掘坟坑的人会来的，坟坑便是我们这种人的先贤祠，一切都落在那大洞里。完事大吉。一切皆空。全部清算完毕。那正是一切化为乌有的下场。连死的份儿也不会再有了，请相信我。说什么还有一个人在等着我去谈话，我想来就要发笑。奶妈的创作。奶妈发明了妖怪来吓唬小孩，也发明了耶和华来吓唬大人。不，我们的明天是一片黑。在坟墓的后面，一无所有，这对任何人来说也都一样。即使你做过萨尔达尼拔④，即使你做过味增爵⑤，结果都一样归于乌有。这是真话。因此，享乐高于一切。当你还有你的时候，就应当利用这个你。老实说，我告诉您，主教先生，我有我的一套哲学，也有我的同道。我不让那些无稽之谈牵着我的鼻子走。可是，对于那些下等人，那些赤脚鬼、穷光蛋、无赖汉，却应当有一种东西。我们不妨享以种种传说、幻想、灵魂、永生、天堂、星宿。让他们大嚼特嚼，让他们拿去涂在他们的干面包上。两手空空的人总算也还捧着一位慈悲的上帝。那并不过分。我也一点不反对，但为我自己，我还是要留下我的内戎先生。慈悲的上帝对平民来说，还是必要的。”
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①皮隆（Pyrrhon），四世纪希腊怀疑派哲学家。霍布斯（Hobbes，1588?679），英国唯物主义哲学家。内戎（Naigeon，1738?810），法国文人，唯物主义者。
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②狄德罗（Diderot，1713?784），杰出的法国哲学家，机械唯物主义的代表人物，无神论者，法国资产阶级革命的思想家之一，启蒙运动者，百科全书派领袖，一七四九年因自己的著作而被监禁。
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③德尔图良（Tertullien，约150?22），基督教反动神学家。
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④萨尔达尼拔（Sardanapale），又译亚述巴尼拔（Assurbanipal，前668椩记?26），亚述国王。
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⑤味增爵（VincentdePaul，1581?660），法国天主教遣使会和仁爱会的创始人。
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主教鼓掌大声说：
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“妙论，妙论！这个唯物主义，确是一种至美绝妙的东西。要找也找不到的。哈！一旦掌握了它，谁也就不上当了，谁也就不会再傻头傻脑，象卡托①那样任人放逐，象艾蒂安①那样任人用石头打死，象贞德③那样任人活活烧死了。获得了这种宝贵的唯物主义的人，也就可以有那种觉得自己不用负责的快感，并认为自己可以心安理得地霸占一切，地盘、恩俸、荣誉、正当得来或暖昧得来的权力，可以为金钱背弃信义，为功利出卖朋友，昧尽天良也还可以自鸣得意。等到酒肉消化完了，便往坟墓里一钻了事。那多么舒服。我这些话并不是为您说的，元老先生。可是我不能不庆贺您。你们那些贵人，正如您说的，有一套自己的、为你们自己服务的哲学，一套巧妙、高明、仅仅适用于有钱人、可以调和各种口味、增加人生乐趣、美不胜收的哲学。那种哲学是由特殊钻探家从地下深处发掘得来的。一般平民以信仰上帝作为他们的哲学，正如穷人以栗子烧鹅肉当作蘑菇煨火鸡，而您并不认为那是件坏事，您确是一位忠厚长者。”
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①卡托（Caton，前234?49），罗马政治家和作家，贵族特权的拥护者，为监察官时极为严格。
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②艾蒂安（Etienne），基督教的一个殉教者，死在耶路撒冷。
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③贞德（JeannedAArc），百年战争期间法国的民族女英雄，一四三一年被俘，焚死。
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The senator above mentioned was a clever man, who had made his own way, heedless of those things which present obstacles, and which are called conscience, sworn faith, justice, duty: he had marched straight to his goal, without once flinching in the line of his advancement and his interest. He was an old attorney, softened by success; not a bad man by any means, who rendered all the small services in his power to his sons, his sons-in-law, his relations, and even to his friends, having wisely seized upon, in life, good sides, good opportunities, good windfalls. Everything else seemed to him very stupid. He was intelligent, and just sufficiently educated to think himself a disciple of Epicurus; while he was, in reality, only a product of Pigault-Lebrun. He laughed willingly and pleasantly over infinite and eternal things, and at the "Crotchets of that good old fellow the Bishop." He even sometimes laughed at him with an amiable authority in the presence of M. Myriel himself, who listened to him.
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On some semi-official occasion or other, I do not recollect what, Count*** [this senator] and M. Myriel were to dine with the prefect. At dessert, the senator, who was slightly exhilarated, though still perfectly dignified, exclaimed:--
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"Egad, Bishop, let’s have a discussion. It is hard for a senator and a bishop to look at each other without winking. We are two augurs. I am going to make a confession to you. I have a philosophy of my own."
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"And you are right," replied the Bishop. "As one makes one’s philosophy, so one lies on it. You are on the bed of purple, senator."
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The senator was encouraged, and went on:--
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"Let us be good fellows."
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"Good devils even," said the Bishop.
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"I declare to you," continued the senator, "that the Marquis d’Argens, Pyrrhon, Hobbes, and M. Naigeon are no rascals. I have all the philosophers in my library gilded on the edges."
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"Like yourself, Count," interposed the Bishop.
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The senator resumed:--
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"I hate Diderot; he is an ideologist, a declaimer, and a revolutionist, a believer in God at bottom, and more bigoted than Voltaire. Voltaire made sport of Needham, and he was wrong, for Needham’s eels prove that God is useless. A drop of vinegar in a spoonful of flour paste supplies the fiat lux. Suppose the drop to be larger and the spoonful bigger; you have the world. Man is the eel. Then what is the good of the Eternal Father? The Jehovah hypothesis tires me, Bishop. It is good for nothing but to produce shallow people, whose reasoning is hollow. Down with that great All, which torments me! Hurrah for Zero which leaves me in peace! Between you and me, and in order to empty my sack, and make confession to my pastor, as it behooves me to do, I will admit to you that I have good sense. I am not enthusiastic over your Jesus, who preaches Renunciation and sacrifice to the last extremity. ’Tis the counsel of an avaricious man to beggars. Renunciation; why? Sacrifice; to what end? I do not see one wolf immolating himself for the happiness of another wolf. Let us stick to nature, then. We are at the top; let us have a superior philosophy. What is the advantage of being at the top, if one sees no further than the end of other people’s noses? Let us live merrily. Life is all. That man has another future elsewhere, on high, below, anywhere, I don’t believe; not one single word of it. Ah! sacrifice and renunciation are recommended to me; I must take heed to everything I do; I must cudgel my brains over good and evil, over the just and the unjust, over the fas and the nefas. Why? Because I shall have to render an account of my actions. When? After death. What a fine dream! After my death it will be a very clever person who can catch me. Have a handful of dust seized by a shadow-hand, if you can. Let us tell the truth, we who are initiated, and who have raised the veil of Isis: there is no such thing as either good or evil; there is vegetation. Let us seek the real. Let us get to the bottom of it. Let us go into it thoroughly. What the deuce! let us go to the bottom of it! We must scent out the truth; dig in the earth for it, and seize it. Then it gives you exquisite joys. Then you grow strong, and you laugh. I am square on the bottom, I am. immortality, Bishop, is a chance, a waiting for dead men’s shoes. Ah! what a charming promise! trust to it, if you like! What a fine lot Adam has! We are souls, and we shall be angels, with blue wings on our shoulder-blades. Do come to my assistance: is it not Tertullian who says that the blessed shall travel from star to star? Very well. We shall be the grasshoppers of the stars. And then, besides, we shall see God. Ta, ta, ta! What twaddle all these paradises are! God is a nonsensical monster. I would not say that in the Moniteur, egad! but I may whisper it among friends. Inter pocula. To sacrifice the world to paradise is to let slip the prey for the shadow. Be the dupe of the infinite! I’m not such a fool. I am a Nought. I call myself Monsieur le Comte Nought, senator. Did I exist before my birth? No. Shall I exist after death? No. What am I? A little dust collected in an organism. What am I to do on this earth? The choice rests with me: suffer or enjoy. whither will suffering lead me? To nothingness; but I shall have suffered. Whither will enjoyment lead me? To nothingness; but I shall have enjoyed myself. My choice is made. One must eat or be eaten. I shall eat. It is better to be the tooth than the grass. Such is my wisdom. After which, go whither I push thee, the grave-digger is there; the Pantheon for some of us: all falls into the great hole. End. Finis. Total liquidation. This is the vanishing-point. Death is death, believe me. I laugh at the idea of there being any one who has anything to tell me on that subject. Fables of nurses; bugaboo for children; Jehovah for men. No; our to-morrow is the night. Beyond the tomb there is nothing but equal nothingness. You have been Sardanapalus, you have been Vincent de Paul--it makes no difference. That is the truth. Then live your life, above all things. Make use of your _I_ while you have it. In truth, Bishop, I tell you that I have a philosophy of my own, and I have my philosophers. I don’t let myself be taken in with that nonsense. Of course, there must be something for those who are down,--for the barefooted beggars, knife-grinders, and miserable wretches. Legends, chimeras, the soul, immortality, paradise, the stars, are provided for them to swallow. They gobble it down. They spread it on their dry bread. He who has nothing else has the good. God. That is the least he can have. I oppose no objection to that; but I reserve Monsieur Naigeon for myself. The good God is good for the populace."
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The Bishop clapped his hands.
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"That’s talking!" he exclaimed. "What an excellent and really marvellous thing is this materialism! Not every one who wants it can have it. Ah! when one does have it, one is no longer a dupe, one does not stupidly allow one’s self to be exiled like Cato, nor stoned like Stephen, nor burned alive like Jeanne d’Arc. Those who have succeeded in procuring this admirable materialism have the joy of feeling themselves irresponsible, and of thinking that they can devour everything without uneasiness,--places, sinecures, dignities, power, whether well or ill acquired, lucrative recantations, useful treacheries, savory capitulations of conscience,--and that they shall enter the tomb with their digestion accomplished. How agreeable that is! I do not say that with reference to you, senator. Nevertheless, it is impossible for me to refrain from congratulating you. You great lords have, so you say, a philosophy of your own, and for yourselves, which is exquisite, refined, accessible to the rich alone, good for all sauces, and which seasons the voluptuousness of life admirably. This philosophy has been extracted from the depths, and unearthed by special seekers. But you are good-natured princes, and you do not think it a bad thing that belief in the good God should constitute the philosophy of the people, very much as the goose stuffed with chestnuts is the truffled turkey of the poor."
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