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悲惨世界|Les Miserables

Part 4 Book 12 Chapter 1 History of Corinthe from its Foundation

属类： 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 维克多-雨果] 阅读：[104228]
Part 4 Book 12 Chapter 1 History of Corinthe from its Foundation
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...
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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现在的巴黎人，从菜市场这面走进朗比托街时，会发现在他的右边正对蒙德都街的地方，有一家编制筐篮等物的铺子，铺子的招牌是一个用柳条编的拿破仑大帝的模拟人像，上面写着：

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拿破仑完全是个柳条人

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过路的人未必料想得到这地方近三十年前所目击的惨状。

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这就是当年的麻厂街，更古老的街名是Chanverrerie街，开设在那里的那家著名的酒店叫科林斯。

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读者应当还记得，我们前面谈到过一个建立在这里并被圣美里街垒挡住了的街垒。今天这街垒在人们的记忆中已毫无影踪了。我们要瞻望的正是这麻厂街的街垒。

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为了叙述方便，请允许我们采用一种简单方法，这方法是我们在叙述滑铁卢战争时采用过的。当时从圣厄斯塔什突角附近到巴黎菜市场的东北角，也就是今天朗比托街的入口处，这一带的房屋原是横七竖八极其紊乱的。对这里的街道，读者如果想有一个比较清晰的概念，不妨假设一个N字母，上从圣德尼街起，下到菜市场止，左右两竖是大化子窝街和麻厂街，两竖中间的斜道是小化子窝街，横穿过这三条街的是极尽弯曲迂回的蒙德都街。在这四条街纵横交错如迷宫似的地方，一方面由菜市场至圣德尼街，一方面由天鹅街至布道修士街，在这一块一百平方托阿斯的土地上，分割成奇形怪状、大小不同、方向各异的七个岛状住房群，正象那建筑工地上随意乱丢的七堆乱石，房屋与房屋之间都只留一条窄缝。

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我们说窄缝，是因为我们对那些阴暗、狭窄、转弯抹角、两旁夹着倾斜破旧的九层楼房的小巷找不出更确切的表达方式。那些楼房已经破旧到如此程度，以致在麻厂街和小化子窝街上，两旁房屋的正面都是用大木料面对面互相支撑着的。街窄，但水沟宽，街心终年是湿的，行人得紧靠街边的店铺走，店铺暗到象地窨子，门前竖着打了铁箍的护墙石，垃圾成堆，街旁的小道口上，装有百年以上的古老粗大的铁栏门。这一切都已在修筑朗比托街时一扫而光了。

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蒙德都①这名称，确已把这种街道迂回曲折的形象描绘得淋漓尽致。稍远一点，和蒙德都相接的陀螺街这个街名则更好地表达这弯曲形象。

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①蒙德都（Mondétour），意思是转弯抹角。

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从圣德尼街走进麻厂街的行人，会发现他越朝前走，街面便越窄，好象自己钻进了一个管子延长的漏斗。到了这条相当短的街的尽头，他会看见一排高房子在靠菜市场一面挡住了他的去路，他如果没有看出左右两旁都各有一条走得通的黑巷子，还会认为自己陷了在死胡同里。这巷子便是蒙德都街了，一头通到布道修士街，一头通到天鹅街和小化子窝。在这种死胡同的底里，靠右边那条巷子的角上，有一幢不象其他房子那么高的房子，伸向街心，有如伸向海中的岬角。

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正是在这幢只有三层的房子里，三百年来，欣欣向荣地开着一家大名鼎鼎的酒店。从这酒店里经常传出人的欢笑声，这里也是老泰奥菲尔①在这样两行诗里所指出的：

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情郎痛绝悬梁死，

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骸骨飘摇如逐人。

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这是个好地方，那家酒店老板便世世代代在这里开着酒店。

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在马蒂兰·雷尼埃②的时代，这酒店的店名是“玫瑰花盆”，当时的风尚是文字游戏，那店家便用一根漆成粉红色的柱子③作为招牌。在前一世纪，那位值得崇敬的纳托瓦尔④棗被今日的呆板学派所轻视的奇想派大师之一棗曾多次到这酒店里，坐在当年雷尼埃经常痛饮的那张桌子旁边醉酒，并曾在那粉红柱子上画了一串科林斯葡萄，以表谢意。店主人大为得意，便把旧招牌改了，在那串葡萄下面用金字写了“科林斯葡萄酒店”。这便是科林斯这名称的来历。酒徒们喜欢文字简略，原是很自然的。文字简略，有如步履踉跄。科林斯便渐渐取代了玫瑰花盆。最后那一代主人，人们称为于什鲁大爷的，已经不知道这些掌故，找人把那柱子漆成了蓝色。

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①泰奥菲尔（Théophile，1590?626），法国诗人。

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②马蒂兰·雷尼埃（MathurinRegnier，1573?613），法国讽刺诗人。

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③玫瑰花盆（PotBauxBRoses）和粉红色的柱子（poteau　rose）发音相同。

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④纳托瓦尔（Natoire，1700?777），法国油画家和木刻家。

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楼下的一间厅里有账台，楼上的一间厅里有球台，一道螺旋式楼梯穿通楼板到楼上，桌上放着酒，墙上全是烟，白天点着蜡烛，这便是那酒店的概貌。楼下的厅里，地上有翻板活门，掀起便是通地窨子的梯子。三楼上是于什鲁一家的住房。二楼的大厅里有一扇暗门，通过楼梯棗与其说是楼梯，不如说是梯子棗上去，房顶下面有两间带小窗洞的顶楼，那是女仆的窝巢。厨房在楼下，和那间有账台的厅房分占着地面层。

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于什鲁大爷也许生来便是个化学家，事实上，他是个厨师，人们不仅在他店里喝酒，还在那里吃饭。于什鲁发明了一道人们只能在他店里吃到的名菜，那就是在肚里塞上肉馅的鲤鱼，他称它为灌肉鲤鱼（carpes　au　gras）。人们坐在钉一块漆布以代台布的桌子前面，在一支脂烛或一盏路易十六时代的油灯的微光里吃着这东西。好些顾客并且是从远道来的。有天早晨，于什鲁忽然灵机一动，要把他这一“拿手好菜”给过路行人介绍一番，他拿起一管毛笔，在一个黑颜料钵里蘸上墨汁，由于他的拼写法和他的烹调法同样有他的独到之处，便在他的墙上信手涂写了这几个引人注目的大字：

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有一年冬天，雨水和夹雪骤雨，出于兴之所至，把第一个词词尾的S和第三个词前面的G抹去了，

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剩下的只是：

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①Ho　gras是au　gras之误，但发音相同。

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②念起来象是Carpe　au　rat（耗子肉烧鲤鱼）。

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为招引食客而写的这一微不足道的广告，在季节和雨水的帮助下竟成了一种有深远意义的劝告。

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于是，这位于什鲁大爷，不懂法文竟懂了拉丁文，他从烹饪中悟出了哲理，并且，在要干脆取消封斋节这一想法上赶上了贺拉斯。尤其出奇的是，它还可以解释为：请光临我店。

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所有这一切，到今天，都已不存在了。蒙德都迷宫从一八四七年起便已被剖腹，很大程度上被拆毁了，到现在也许已不存在了。麻厂街和科林斯都已消失在朗比托街的铺路石下面。

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我们已经说过，科林斯是古费拉克和他的朋友们聚会地点之一，如果不是联系地点的话。发现科林斯的是格朗泰尔。他第一次进去，是为了那Carpe　Ho　ras，以后进去是为了Carpes　augras。他们在那里喝，吃，叫嚷；对账目他们有时少付，有时欠付，有时不付，但始终是受到欢迎的。于什鲁大爷原是个老好人。

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于什鲁，老好人，我们刚才说过，是一个生着横胡子的小饭铺老板，一种引人发笑的类型。他的面部表情老是狠巴巴的，好象存心要把顾客吓跑，走进他店门的人都得看他的嘴脸，听他埋怨，忍受他那种随时准备吵架、不情愿开饭侍候的神气。但是，正如我们先头说过，顾客始终是受到欢迎的。这一怪现象使他的酒店生意兴隆，为他引来不少年轻主顾，他们常说：“还是去听于什鲁大爷发牢骚吧。”他原是个耍刀使棍的能手。他常突然放声大笑。笑声雄厚爽朗，足见他心地是光明的。那是一种外表愁苦而内心快活的性格。他最乐意看见你怕他，他有点象一种手枪形状的鼻烟盒，它能引起的爆炸只不过是个喷嚏。

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他的老伴于什鲁大妈是个生着胡子模样儿怪丑的妇人。

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一八三○年左右，于什鲁大爷死了。做灌肉鲤鱼的秘法也随着他的死去而失传。他的遗孀，得不到一点安慰，继续开着那店铺。但是烹调远不如前，坏到叫人难以下咽。酒，原来就不好，现在更不成了。古费拉克和他的朋友们却照旧去科林斯，“由于怀念故人。”博须埃常这样说。

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寡妇于什鲁害着气喘病，她对从前的农村生活念念不忘，因而她语言乏味，发音也很奇特。乡下度过的青春时期她还有不完整的印象，她用她自己特有的方式来谈论这些，她回忆当年时常说“她从前的幸福便是听知根（更）鸟在三（山）楂树林里歌唱”。

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楼上的厅房是“餐厅”，是一间长而大的房间，放满圆凳、方凳、靠椅、条凳和桌子，还有个瘸腿老球台。厅的角上有个方洞，正如轮船上的升降口，楼下的人，从一道螺旋式楼梯经过这方洞，到达楼上。

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这厅房只靠一扇窄窗子进光，随时都点着一盏煤油灯，形象很是寒伧。凡是该有四只脚的家具好象都只有三只脚。用石灰浆刷过的墙上没有一点装饰，但却有这样一首献给于什鲁大妈的四行诗：

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十步以外她惊人，两步以内她骇人。

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有个肉瘤住在她那冒失的鼻孔里；

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人们见了直哆嗦，怕她把瘤喷给你，

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有朝一日那鼻子，总会落在她嘴里。

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那是用木炭涂在墙上的。

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于什鲁大妈和那形象很相象，从早到晚，若无其事，在那四行诗跟前走来又走去。两个女仆，一个叫马特洛特，一个叫吉布洛特①，人们从来不知道她们是否还有其他名字，帮着于什鲁大妈把盛劣酒的罐子放在每张桌子上，或是把各种喂饿鬼的杂碎汤舀在陶制的碗盏里。马特洛特是个胖子，周身浑圆，红头发，尖声尖气，奇丑，丑得比神话中的任何妖精还丑，是已故于什鲁大爷生前宠幸的苏丹妃子；可是，按习俗仆人总是立在主妇后面的，和于什鲁大妈比起来，她又丑得好一点。吉布洛特，瘦长，娇弱，白，淋巴质的白，蓝眼圈，眼皮老搭拉看，总是那么困倦，可以说她是在害着一种慢性疲乏症，她每天第一个起床，最后一个睡觉，侍候每一个人，连另一个女仆也归她侍候，从不吭声，百依百顺，脸上总挂着一种疲劳的微笑，好象是睡梦中的微笑。

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①马特洛特（matelote）的原义是葱、酒烹鱼。吉布洛特（gibelotte）的原义是酒烩兔肉。

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在那账台上面还挂着一面镜子。

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在进入餐厅的门上有这么两句话，是古费拉克用粉笔写的：

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吃吧，只要你能；吞吧，只要你敢。

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The Parisians who nowadays on entering on the Rue Rambuteau at the end near the Halles, notice on their right, opposite the Rue Mondetour, a basket-maker’s shop having for its sign a basket in the form of Napoleon the Great with this inscription:--

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NAPOLEON IS MADE WHOLLY OF WILLOW,

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have no suspicion of the terrible scenes which this very spot witnessed hardly thirty years ago.

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It was there that lay the Rue de la Chanvrerie, which ancient deeds spell Chanverrerie, and the celebrated public-house called Corinthe.

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The reader will remember all that has been said about the barricade effected at this point, and eclipsed, by the way, by the barricade Saint-Merry. It was on this famous barricade of the Rue de la Chanvrerie, now fallen into profound obscurity, that we are about to shed a little light.

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May we be permitted to recur, for the sake of clearness in the recital, to the simple means which we have already employed in the case of Waterloo. Persons who wish to picture to themselves in a tolerably exact manner the constitution of the houses which stood at that epoch near the Pointe Saint-Eustache, at the northeast angle of the Halles of Paris, where to-day lies the embouchure of the Rue Rambuteau, have only to imagine an N touching the Rue Saint-Denis with its summit and the Halles with its base, and whose two vertical bars should form the Rue de la Grande-Truanderie, and the Rue de la Chanvrerie, and whose transverse bar should be formed by the Rue de la Petite-Truanderie. The old Rue Mondetour cut the three strokes of the N at the most crooked angles. So that the labyrinthine confusion of these four streets sufficed to form, on a space three fathoms square, between the Halles and the Rue Saint-Denis on the one hand, and between the Rue du Cygne and the Rue des Precheurs on the other, seven islands of houses, oddly cut up, of varying sizes, placed crosswise and hap-hazard, and barely separated, like the blocks of stone in a dock, by narrow crannies.

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We say narrow crannies, and we can give no more just idea of those dark, contracted, many-angled alleys, lined with eight-story buildings. These buildings were so decrepit that, in the Rue de la Chanvrerie and the Rue de la Petite-Truanderie, the fronts were shored up with beams running from one house to another. The street was narrow and the gutter broad, the pedestrian there walked on a pavement that was always wet, skirting little stalls resembling cellars, big posts encircled with iron hoops, excessive heaps of refuse, and gates armed with enormous, century-old gratings. The Rue Rambuteau has devastated all that.

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The name of Mondetour paints marvellously well the sinuosities of that whole set of streets. A little further on, they are found still better expressed by the Rue Pirouette, which ran into the Rue Mondetour.

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The passer-by who got entangled from the Rue Saint-Denis in the Rue de la Chanvrerie beheld it gradually close in before him as though he had entered an elongated funnel. At the end of this street, which was very short, he found further passage barred in the direction of the Halles by a tall row of houses, and he would have thought himself in a blind alley, had he not perceived on the right and left two dark cuts through which he could make his escape. This was the Rue Mondetour, which on one side ran into the Rue de Precheurs, and on the other into the Rue du Cygne and the Petite-Truanderie. At the bottom of this sort of cul-de-sac, at the angle of the cutting on the right, there was to be seen a house which was not so tall as the rest, and which formed a sort of cape in the street. It is in this house, of two stories only, that an illustrious wine-shop had been merrily installed three hundred years before. This tavern created a joyous noise in the very spot which old Theophilus described in the following couplet:--

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La branle le squelette horrible D’un pauvre amant qui se pendit.[47]

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[47] There swings the horrible skeleton of a poor lover who hung himself.

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The situation was good, and tavern-keepers succeeded each other there, from father to son.

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In the time of Mathurin Regnier, this cabaret was called the Pot-aux-Roses, and as the rebus was then in fashion, it had for its sign-board, a post (poteau) painted rose-color. In the last century, the worthy Natoire, one of the fantastic masters nowadays despised by the stiff school, having got drunk many times in this wine-shop at the very table where Regnier had drunk his fill, had painted, by way of gratitude, a bunch of Corinth grapes on the pink post. The keeper of the cabaret, in his joy, had changed his device and had caused to be placed in gilt letters beneath the bunch these words: "At the Bunch of Corinth Grapes" ("Au Raisin de Corinthe"). Hence the name of Corinthe. Nothing is more natural to drunken men than ellipses. The ellipsis is the zig-zag of the phrase. Corinthe gradually dethroned the Pot-aux-Roses. The last proprietor of the dynasty, Father Hucheloup, no longer acquainted even with the tradition, had the post painted blue.

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A room on the ground floor, where the bar was situated, one on the first floor containing a billiard-table, a wooden spiral staircase piercing the ceiling, wine on the tables, smoke on the walls, candles in broad daylight,--this was the style of this cabaret. A staircase with a trap-door in the lower room led to the cellar. On the second floor were the lodgings of the Hucheloup family. They were reached by a staircase which was a ladder rather than a staircase, and had for their entrance only a private door in the large room on the first floor. Under the roof, in two mansard attics, were the nests for the servants. The kitchen shared the ground-floor with the tap-room.

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Father Hucheloup had, possibly, been born a chemist, but the fact is that he was a cook; people did not confine themselves to drinking alone in his wine-shop, they also ate there. Hucheloup had invented a capital thing which could be eaten nowhere but in his house, stuffed carps, which he called carpes au gras. These were eaten by the light of a tallow candle or of a lamp of the time of Louis XVI.On tables to which were nailed waxed cloths in lieu of table-cloths. People came thither from a distance.Hucheloup, one fine morning, had seen fit to notify passers-by of this "specialty"; he had dipped a brush in a pot of black paint, and as he was an orthographer on his own account, as well as a cook after his own fashion, he had improvised on his wall this remarkable inscription:--

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CARPES HO GRAS.

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One winter, the rain-storms and the showers had taken a fancy to obliterate the S which terminated the first word, and the G which began the third; this is what remained:--

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CARPE HO RAS.

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Time and rain assisting, a humble gastronomical announcement had become a profound piece of advice.

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In this way it came about, that though he knew no French, Father Hucheloup understood Latin, that he had evoked philosophy from his kitchen, and that, desirous simply of effacing Lent, he had equalled Horace. And the striking thing about it was, that that also meant: "Enter my wine-shop."

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Nothing of all this is in existence now. The Mondetour labyrinth was disembowelled and widely opened in 1847, and probably no longer exists at the present moment. The Rue de la Chanvrerie and Corinthe have disappeared beneath the pavement of the Rue Rambuteau.

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As we have already said, Corinthe was the meeting-place if not the rallying-point, of Courfeyrac and his friends. It was Grantaire who had discovered Corinthe. He had entered it on account of the Carpe horas, and had returned thither on account of the Carpes au gras. There they drank, there they ate, there they shouted; they did not pay much, they paid badly, they did not pay at all, but they were always welcome. Father Hucheloup was a jovial host.

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Hucheloup, that amiable man, as was just said, was a wine-shop-keeper with a mustache; an amusing variety. He always had an ill-tempered air, seemed to wish to intimidate his customers, grumbled at the people who entered his establishment, and had rather the mien of seeking a quarrel with them than of serving them with soup. And yet, we insist upon the word, people were always welcome there. This oddity had attracted customers to his shop, and brought him young men, who said to each other: "Come hear Father Hucheloup growl." He had been a fencing-master. All of a sudden, he would burst out laughing. A big voice, a good fellow. He had a comic foundation under a tragic exterior, he asked nothing better than to frighten you, very much like those snuff-boxes which are in the shape of a pistol. The detonation makes one sneeze.

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Mother Hucheloup, his wife, was a bearded and a very homely creature.

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About 1830, Father Hucheloup died. With him disappeared the secret of stuffed carps. His inconsolable widow continued to keep the wine-shop. But the cooking deteriorated, and became execrable; the wine, which had always been bad, became fearfully bad. Nevertheless, Courfeyrac and his friends continued to go to Corinthe,-- out of pity, as Bossuet said.

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The Widow Hucheloup was breathless and misshapen and given to rustic recollections. She deprived them of their flatness by her pronunciation. She had a way of her own of saying things, which spiced her reminiscences of the village and of her springtime. It had formerly been her delight, so she affirmed, to hear the loups-de-gorge (rouges-gorges) chanter dans les ogrepines (aubepines)--to hear the redbreasts sing in the hawthorn-trees.

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The hall on the first floor, where "the restaurant" was situated, was a large and long apartment encumbered with stools, chairs, benches, and tables, and with a crippled, lame, old billiard-table. It was reached by a spiral staircase which terminated in the corner of the room at a square hole like the hatchway of a ship.

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This room, lighted by a single narrow window, and by a lamp that was always burning, had the air of a garret. All the four-footed furniture comported itself as though it had but three legs-- the whitewashed walls had for their only ornament the following quatrain in honor of Mame Hucheloup:--

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Elle etonne a dix pas, elle epouvente a deux, Une verrue habite en son nez hasardeux; On tremble a chaque instant qu’elle ne vous la mouche Et qu’un beau jour son nez ne tombe dans sa bouche.[48]

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[48] She astounds at ten paces, she frightens at two, a wart inhabits her hazardous nose; you tremble every instant lest she should blow it at you, and lest, some fine day, her nose should tumble into her mouth.

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This was scrawled in charcoal on the wall.

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Mame Hucheloup, a good likeness, went and came from morning till night before this quatrain with the most perfect tranquillity. Two serving-maids, named Matelote and Gibelotte,[49] and who had never been known by any other names, helped Mame Hucheloup to set on the tables the jugs of poor wine, and the various broths which were served to the hungry patrons in earthenware bowls. Matelote, large, plump, redhaired, and noisy, the favorite ex-sultana of the defunct Hucheloup, was homelier than any mythological monster, be it what it may; still, as it becomes the servant to always keep in the rear of the mistress, she was less homely than Mame Hucheloup. Gibelotte, tall, delicate, white with a lymphatic pallor, with circles round her eyes, and drooping lids, always languid and weary, afflicted with what may be called chronic lassitude, the first up in the house and the last in bed, waited on every one, even the other maid, silently and gently, smiling through her fatigue with a vague and sleepy smile.

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[49] Matelote: a culinary preparation of various fishes. Gibelotte: stewed rabbits.

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Before entering the restaurant room, the visitor read on the door the following line written there in chalk by Courfeyrac:--

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Regale si tu peux et mange si tu l’oses.[50]

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[50] Treat if you can, and eat if you dare.

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CARPES　HO　GRAS①

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CARPE　HO　RAS②

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