Les Miserables 小感

早年看這個作品的時候, 對於 Eponine 一直沒什麼好感, 或許是因為我看的是經過改寫的中文譯本, 很多故事都被刪除所導致. 後來有機會欣賞 Les Miserables 的音樂劇, 雖說對於 Eponine 的演出印象遠比 Cosette 來的深刻. 但對於 Eponine 還是沒有太多好感, 依舊認為這是她的報應.

然而最近看了日本世界名著劇場的新作品 レ・ミゼラブル少女コゼット, 對於 Eponine 的觀感慢慢改變了. 此刻重讀 Les Miserables 的英文全譯本, 放下先前的偏見, 對於這位少女有了不同的認識. 如果 Cosette 的幸福是上天對她童年的遭遇和對她母親的不幸而作的補償, 那 Eponine 就是為她先前對於 Cosette 的行為贖罪, 只是這個代價太大了.

Eponine 是一位善良的少女, 當她瀕臨死亡時, 並未利用 Marius 的憐憫, 她是怎麼說的?

"Now, for my trouble, promise me--" And she stopped.

"What?" asked Marius.

"Promise me!"

"I promise."

"Promise to give me a kiss on my brow when I am dead.--I shall feel it."

She dropped her head again on Marius' knees, and her eyelids closed. He thought the poor soul had departed. Eponine remained motionless. All at once, at the very moment when Marius fancied her asleep forever, she slowly opened her eyes in which appeared the sombre profundity of death, and said to him in a tone whose sweetness seemed already to proceed from another world:--

"And by the way, Monsieur Marius, I believe that I was a little bit in love with you."

She tried to smile once more and expired.

不要求 Marius 在她尚存一口氣的時候吻她, 而是在她死後吻她, 她在顧慮什麼?

Cosette 嗎? 不是的, 是為了 Marius, 她愛他, 她不希望 Marius 因為憐憫而擁抱她, 不希望 Marius 是因為她即將死去而吻她, 不希望 Marius 遭受良心的譴責, 然而她無法隱藏自己對 Marius 的愛, 因此她在最後很含蓄的說, 我想我有一點愛上你了. 這一幕讓人好心碎.

Eponine 的形象在這裡昇華了, 眼中的她不再醜陋, 而是一個美麗的女孩, 一位令人心疼的女孩.

Hugo 給她榮耀作為彌補, 讓她在主的國度安息, 世俗的枷鎖沒辦法再箝制她.

在音樂劇中

Eponine 和 Fantine 最後成為天使, 在 Valjean 臨終時去帶領他. Fantine 和 Eponine 這樣唱的:

Take my hand
And lead me to salvation.
Take my love,
For love is everlasting.

她們來接 Valjean, 同時也接自己, 三個可憐的靈魂在此時都獲得了救贖.

悲慘世界中誰真正悲慘呢? 是堅信信念最後卻信念崩潰而自殺的 Javert 嗎?

不, 而是活下來的 Cosette 和 Marius.

Cosette 終身都會活在因為她的不知情而導致 Valjean 過世的悔恨中, Valjean 照顧一個與他無關的孩子這麼多年, 就只是因為承諾過一位陌生女子 Fantine, 無怨無悔付出了十多年, 她卻因為生命中另外一個親愛的人而忽略他, 如果她能更關心 Valjean 一些, Valjean 不會這麼快過世. 無知在這時不是一種悲哀, 反而是一種幸福, Valjean 從未告訴過 Cosette 她的身世, 即使在他即將蒙主恩召的當下, 他也只是告訴 Cosette 她母親的名字.

而 Marius 呢? 他背負的生命除了 ABC 的朋友和 Eponine 外, 還多了一個 Valjean. 只要他看到 Cosette, 他就會想起 Valjean, 是 Valjean 讓他能與 Cosette 在一起, 是 Valjean 背負他離開死亡. 為了保護 Cosette, 他同樣不會將全部的事實告訴 Cosette, 因為那會讓 Cosette 陷入無限的自責.

因此, Cosette 和 Marius 公主和王子般的幸福能維持多久呢?

Hugo 沒有告訴我們, 因為他想表達的不是這個:

活著是一種痛苦, 死亡是一種解脫.

廉恥

作者：顧炎武

五代史馮道傳論曰：「『禮、義、廉、恥，國之四維；四維不張，國乃滅亡。』善乎管生之能言也！禮、義，治人之大法；廉、恥，立人之大節。蓋不廉則無所不取，不恥則無所不為。人而如此，則禍敗亂亡，亦無所不至。況為大臣而無所不取，無所不為，則天下其有不亂，國家其有不亡者乎？」

然而四者之中，恥尤為要，故夫子之論士曰：「行己有恥。」孟子曰：「人不可以無恥。無恥之恥，無恥矣。」又曰：「恥之於人大矣！為機變之巧者，無所用恥焉。」所以然者，人之不廉而至於悖禮犯義，其原皆生於無恥也。故士大夫之無恥，是謂國恥。

吾觀三代以下，世衰道微，棄禮義，捐廉恥，非一朝一夕之故。然而松柏後凋於歲寒，雞鳴不已於風雨，彼眾昏之日，固未嘗無獨醒之人也。

頃讀顏氏家訓，有云：「齊朝一士夫，嘗謂吾曰：『我有一兒，年已十七，頗曉書疏。教其鮮卑語及彈琵琶，稍欲通解，以此伏事公卿，無不寵愛。』吾時俯而不答。異哉，此人之教子也！若由此業，自致卿相，亦不願汝曹為之！」嗟呼！之推不得已而仕於亂世，猶為此言，尚有小宛詩人之意；彼閹然媚於世者，能無愧哉！

賢者的禮物

by O. Henry

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

Jim looked about the room curiously.

"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.