Saturday, July 28, 2012

托爾斯泰與你何干?

我是個典型的宅男。女兒出嫁到華盛頓DC的近郊10年了,這個老丈人還沒去探望過孫子們和親家們;更不用說,當了33年美國人,還沒去過美國的首都,真是德州鄉巴佬。

昨天晚上是例行的每月同學聚餐。我們大學班上有3位同學居住在美國德州達拉斯北郊的布蘭諾Plano市,相距不出5哩路。夫婦們一起去享用別具風味的德州烤肉BBQ,順便聊聊這個月來的生活趣聞。其中一對才從北歐郵輪旅遊回來,他們又湊巧在船上遇到我們班上的另一位同學,不知道是世界這麼小?還是同學們都忙著在海上旅遊。

他們看到這位每天守著破房子的同學,於心不忍,所以用盡心思,想讓他也能享受環遊世界各地的樂趣。我告訴他們:「我實在很忙,6:00的時候趕緊去換衣服準備出6:05一看,還有10分鐘,又坐下來,翻譯了兩行托爾斯泰的文章…」

一位同學的老婆問:「為什麼要翻譯托爾斯泰的文章?他跟你有什麼關係?」

我一時不知道要怎麼回答,現在也忘了那時是怎麼說的,好像只告訴他們,托爾斯泰是《戰爭與和平》的作者。到底我為什麼要翻譯托爾斯泰的文章?兩個半月來,日以繼夜的翻了7篇故事,6篇短文,3本都未翻完的書(共翻了13),佔了我的部落格48個篇幅,確實是很大的工程。年輕時,在跟石油公司設計大的應用程式時,都不見得有如此的投入;所以一定是有原因的;這個答案就在我回顧到第一篇翻譯《如何讀福音書?》時,呈現在我的眼前。

福音書是在基督教的新約聖經裡,描述耶穌的生平的4本書。在過去的14年當中,我不停的來回讀這些福音書。剛開始時,好些敬虔的基督徒告訴我,這是神的話語,是天書;不只一次,有學位的聖經學者們告訴我們:「你們不要妄想自己念得懂聖經,我們的學位豈是白讀的。」所以我的朋友之中,有人是真的去神學院修希臘文,希伯來文,亞蘭文,為的是要能真正讀懂神的話語。我不相信他們的說法,但是我卻是花了很多的心血,也曾經有系統的跟了一位很好的老師學習念聖經。

如果你要問我:「神與你何干?」這要等以後再回答你。

因為我是很努力的,廣泛的去研讀福音書,和各樣的解釋,和講道的教導,所以我真是看到了托爾斯泰在起頭時所謂的“有許多奇怪的、不能置信的、不可理解的,甚至自相矛盾的說法,使得人們不知如何去了解它。”而且我發現,越是告訴你,你自己不可能讀懂福音書的人,他的解釋和教導越是奇怪、不能置信和不可理解,這是我個人的經驗。

托爾斯泰是因為許多有追求,想認識神,想經由認識耶穌來認識神的人,被這些誤導性的說法,導致懷疑耶穌基督的教導的真實性,使他感到激動與悲哀,那時他已經是68歲了,認真讀了福音書18年。我現在62歲,認真讀了14年,我也感到同樣的激動與悲哀,所以我決定好好的把托爾斯泰50歲以後的作品的英譯本翻成中文,使大師的心意能澤被到只念中文的對神有追求的人。

大師認為,如果神要透過耶穌基督的教導來拯救世人,那紀錄耶穌基督的教導的福音書一定記下了這些真理,而且這些真理一定容易到連小孩子都能懂。如果說耶穌是神的獨生子,被差遣到人的世界,教導世人,為的是要拯救世人,卻無法清楚明白的說出讓人清楚明白的道理,而且只能讓那些不同的教派,只能讓他們各說各的話,各吹各的號,只有他們才念懂得神的真理嗎?大師認為一個平凡,甚至是愚笨的人,都能夠向其他人表達出他的意向,更不用說是有大智慧的耶穌基督了。

的確,以我個人的經驗,現代的人去讀近2000年前寫下來的福音書,有客觀上和主觀上的困難。這些困難是從原本耶穌的教導,進入了門徒們──也就是福音書的作者們的內心,再從福音書的作者們的筆下記錄下來,再經過各種不同的翻譯本,進入了讀者的內心,其中經歷了多重的價值觀,道德觀,社會觀,世界觀,歷史觀的變遷,這些是不可否認,也不能避免的。更不用說,人的需要被拯救,不也是因為我們傳承的這些觀念,和神對我們的期盼相差太遠的緣故嗎?

而且這些宗教界的人士,不斷的灌輸,神的話語有人所不能理解的屬神的智慧,這種先入為主的想法,會讓你把很簡單的理解拋棄,專去搜尋偏僻、不可思議的解說。

大師不是只說,我念得懂福音書,所以你們也應該念得懂。他在文章裡一步一步告訴我們,他是用怎麼樣的心態去讀:

(1) 拋開一切先入為主的觀念。

(2) 目的就是要讀得懂。

(3) 要周詳的,理性的念,要有洞察力,而且不能隨便或機械式的,把所有的字都是為同等重要的念。換句話說,讀福音書不等於背書,或是誦經。

(4) 分開是耶穌教導的部分,和不是耶穌教導的部分。挑出很明白的部分,和含糊混亂的部分。

(5) 將明白的部分理解,試著建立各部的游離理念,和全本的精神。藉著對整體含意理解的幫助,我們可以試著對自己解釋看起來相關但是含糊的游離部分。

14年當中,有時會因為讀通了一小段的福音書而欣喜若狂;這樣子幾次以後,我發現,這些新的了解,是如此的接近字面的原本意義,而非那些好高騖遠,天馬行空的神學理論。我如果早幾年看到了這篇文章,或者有人早點教我這樣的來讀福音書,我會非常的感激。

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

罐子艾爾攸夏ALYOSHA THE POT


by Leo Tolstoy
1905
Bill Lin

艾爾攸夏是個弟弟。他被暱稱為 罐子,因為有一次,當他的母親要他把一罐牛奶送去給執事的老婆時,他跌倒,打破了罐子。他的母親狠狠的鞭打他一頓,村子裡的孩子們開始取笑他,叫他罐子。罐子艾爾攸夏:這是他的綽號的由來。

艾爾攸夏是個瘦瘦的小夥子,招風耳他的耳朵突出像一雙翅膀還有一個大鼻子。孩子們也總是取笑這個,說:「艾爾攸夏有個鼻子像掛在竿子上的瓠瓜!」

艾爾攸夏住的村子裡有個學校,但是讀書、寫字、和功課對他來講是很不容易,再說,他沒有時間可以學習。他的哥哥跟一個商人住在城裡,所以艾爾攸夏還在小孩時就開始幫他的父親忙。當他6歲時,他已經帶著妹妹們在草原上照顧家裡的牛羊。還很小的時候,他已經開始日夜照料他們的幾匹馬。12歲的時候,他已經耕田拉車了。他沒有力氣去做所有的這些家務,但是他卻有自己的一套他總是高高興興的。當小孩子們譏笑他的時候,他要不就不做聲,要不就笑笑自己。假如他的父親責罵他,他會靜靜的站著留意聽,當他們罵完不再注意他了,他笑著,回去繼續工作。

艾爾攸夏19歲的時候,他的哥哥被徵去當兵;所以他的父親安排艾爾攸夏去替代他的哥哥的位置,在商人家裡當僕人。他穿著哥哥的舊靴子,父親的舊外套和帽子,被帶到城裡去。艾爾攸夏喜歡他的新衣服,但是這商人對他的外型很不以為然。

「我以為你會帶個年輕人來替代西緬,」這商人說,上下仔細打量艾爾攸夏:「然而你卻帶來這個流鼻涕的。他有什麼長處?」

「呃,他可以做任何事情套馬具和幫你駕車子到你要的地方。而且他忠於職守。他只是看來瘦小得像一根棍子,實際上很刻苦耐勞。」

「那夠清楚了。這樣,我們等著瞧吧。」

「更好的是他很溫順,喜愛工作。」

「這樣,我能做什麼呢?把他留下來。」

所以這樣,艾爾攸夏開始住在商人那兒了。

這商人的家庭不大。有他的太太,他的老母親,和三個孩子。他的結了婚的老大,只念完初級中學,跟著他的父親做生意。他的另一個兒子,是個讀書人,高中畢業後進了大學一陣子,但是已經被退學,現在住在家裡。還有一個女兒,在讀高中的年輕女孩。

一開始他們不喜歡艾爾攸夏。他太像鄉巴佬,穿得破爛。沒有禮貌,用鄉下的平常說法稱呼每一個人。但是他們很快就習慣他了。他是個比他哥哥還要好的僕人,總是回應得很快。他們給他各樣要做的,他做得又甘心又快,從一件工作到另一件,從不停止。所以在商人這裡,就像在家裡,所有的工作都讓艾爾攸夏一肩挑。他做得越多,每個人就有更多的堆給他做。商人的老婆,她的婆婆,女兒,小兒子,商人的雇員和廚子所有的人都使喚他,把他叫來叫去的,命令他做每一個他們想到的事。艾爾攸夏唯一聽到的就是:「快來做這個,小夥子,」或是「艾爾攸夏,馬上把這個修好,」或是「你忘了嗎,艾爾攸夏?看這裡,小夥子,你不可以忘了!」所以艾爾攸夏跑來,修理這個,看那個,而且不可以忘記,而且要安排做好每樣事情,同時還保持微笑。

艾爾攸夏很快就穿破了他哥哥的靴子,這商人嚴厲責罵他穿得破爛,把腳趾頭露在外面的到處走動,命令他在市場上買新的靴子。這些是真正的新靴子,艾爾攸夏很喜歡他們;但是他還是有原來的老腳,到了晚上,這樣子跑了一整天以後,這雙腳痛到他都快氣瘋了。艾爾攸夏很怕當他的父親來領他的薪資時,發現主人已經把買新靴子的錢從裡面扣掉了以後,會生氣。

在冬天,艾爾攸夏天亮前就起床,砍柴,掃庭院,拿穀子餵牛餵馬,還要加水。以後,他要點爐子,收拾全家人的靴子,外套,拿出茶具,還要擦亮。然後,或是雇員會要他進去店裡提貨;或者廚子會要他去揉麵包,洗平底鍋。然後他會被派到城裡,傳信息,或把那女兒從學校帶回來,或去買燈油,或幫老祖母帶一些其他的東西。「搞什麼鬼去了這麼久?你這個沒用的東西,」有人會這樣說他,接著另一個。或者在他們之間會這樣子說:「為什麼你自己去?艾爾攸夏可以替你跑腿。艾爾攸夏艾爾攸夏!」所以艾爾攸夏就得去跑。

艾爾攸夏總是一面跑一面吃早餐,而且很少能夠準時吃中餐。廚子經常責罵他,因為他從未和其他人一起用餐,但為了這一切,她同情他,所以總會留一些熱食給他當中餐和晚餐。

在節日前或是節日當中,艾爾攸夏會比平常有更多的工作,但是艾爾攸夏喜歡過節,因為那時每一個人都會給他小費,不多,通常只有大約60分錢;但它是真正屬於他自己的錢,他可以自己選擇去花用。艾爾攸夏從未見過他的薪資,因為他的父親總是進城來,從商人那裡領走艾爾攸夏的薪資,而且只會責罵艾爾攸夏那麼快就穿壞了他的哥哥的靴子。當他已經存滿了2盧布,他聽了廚子的意見,給自己買了一件紅色針織的毛線衣,當他第一次穿上那件新衣,往下看自己的時候,他是如此的新奇和高興,只是站在廚房裡笑得合不攏嘴。

艾爾攸夏不多嘴,當他一講話,他總是說必要的話,又突然又簡短。當被交代做事情或其他的,或被問到能不能做,他會毫不遲疑的說:「我會!」馬上投入去做那件事。

艾爾攸夏一點也不知道如何禱告。他的母親曾經教他禱告的話語,但是甚至在她說的那時,他就已經忘掉了。不管如何,他也每個早上和晚上都在禱告,但是簡單的,只是用他的雙手,在身上畫十架。

艾爾攸夏像這樣子過活,過一年半以後,在第二年的下半年,他經歷到了生命裡一個最不尋常的經驗。這個經驗是他突然發現的,遠超出了他所有的驚訝;除了人跟人之間因為一個人能給另一個人因為需要而產生的關係以外,還存在另外的,完全不一樣的關係:並不是那種一個人因為那些人需要他去刷靴子,去跑差事,或去裝卸馬車;而是一種一個人並不是有需要他才有的關係,只是單純的因為那個人要服侍他,要愛他。而且他也發現了,他,艾爾攸夏就是這個人。他是透過廚子烏絲丁妮亞,才體認到這一切。烏絲丁妮亞是個孤兒,還是個年輕的姑娘,而且像艾爾攸夏那樣的努力工作。她開始感到憐惜艾爾攸夏,而艾爾攸夏在他的人生第一次感覺到他自己,不是他的服事,是他自己被另一個人所需要。當他的母親曾經疼愛他,或憐惜他的時侯,他沒有去注意到,因為那是如此自然的一回事,正如他憐惜自己一樣。但是突然間,他意識到烏絲丁妮亞,雖然完全是個陌生人,也會憐惜他。她經常會留給他一罐有加牛油的麥片粥,當他吃的時候,她坐在他的旁邊,用她的拳頭支撐她的下巴望著他。當他抬頭看著她的時候,她就笑了,他也跟著回笑。

這是如此新奇的一件事,一開始把艾爾攸夏給嚇到了。他覺得它影響到他的工作,他的服事,但是他還是很高興。有一次他向下看,注意到他的褲子,那是烏絲丁妮亞幫他縫補過的褲子,他會搖著頭笑了。他在工作或出任務時,經常會想到烏絲丁妮亞,而且溫暖的輕呼著:「啊,那個烏絲丁妮亞!」烏絲丁妮亞盡量的幫他忙,他也幫她忙。她告訴他所有她的過往;她怎麼在很小的時候變成了孤兒,一個老姑媽如何的照料她,如何為她在城裡找到一個工作的地方;商人的兒子如何的很愚蠢的試著要調戲她,她如何的把他回絕了。她喜歡說話,而他發現聽她說話很愉快。還有一件事,他在城裡聽過,到住家裡服事的農村的男孩子經常會跟廚子結婚。有一回,她問他,他的父母是否要他快點結婚。他說他不知道,而且在村子裡沒有一個他要的女孩子。

「什麼,以後,你有其他的對象嗎?」她問。

「是的。我要妳。妳願意嗎?」

「哦罐子,我的罐子;你這樣狡猾的對待我!」她說,用她的杓子開玩笑的把他的手拷在背後。

在懺悔節期的前一天,艾爾攸夏的老爸又進城來領他的兒子的薪資。商人的老婆已經發現艾爾攸夏打算要娶烏絲丁妮亞的消息,她很不高興。「她就只會懷孕,還能有什麼用呢?」她去跟她的丈夫抱怨。

商人把艾爾攸夏的薪資算給了他的父親。「你看我的小孩做得如何?」他問。「我告訴過你他是個溫順的人,會做你交代的每一件事。」

「溫順有什麼用,他做了某些愚蠢的事。他想要娶我的廚子。我不會留住通婚的僕人的。這種事對我們不適合。」

「呀,這個小傻瓜!真傻!他怎麼會想到做這種傻事!只是別煩惱。我會要他忘掉那整個無聊的事。」

這老人直直的走進廚房,在桌前坐下來,等著他的兒子。艾爾攸夏像往常一樣,跑差事,最後,上氣不接下氣的回來了。

「是這樣,我以為你是個有常識的人,但是這回你在想什麼無聊事?」艾爾攸夏的父親劈頭就說。

「我沒做什麼!」

「什麼叫沒什麼!你已經決定要結婚。當時間到了,我會安排你結婚。我會給你找一個我要的人,不是某些城裡的蕩婦。」

這老人說了一大堆類似的話,艾爾攸夏在一旁靜靜的站著嘆氣。

當他的父親說完了,艾爾攸夏微笑了。

「好,我會忘了這件事。」他說。

「看你現在就做對了,」這老人在離開的時候,簡略的說了一下。

當他的父親走遠了,艾爾攸夏烏絲丁妮亞(她已經在廚房門後聽到了他的父親所說的)單獨在一起的時候,他告訴她:「我們的計畫行不通。妳聽到沒有?他很生氣,不會讓我們結婚的。」

烏絲丁妮亞蒙開始默默的蒙在她的圍裙裡哭。艾爾攸夏攪了一下他的舌頭,說:「我怎能不服從他呢?妳看,我們必須忘記所有有關結婚這件事。」

在夜晚,當商人的老婆叫他去關上窗板的時候,她對他說:「你將要聽從你的父親,忘記所有這個有關結婚的無聊的事情?」

「是的。當然。我已經忘記它了,」艾爾攸夏說得很快,然後微笑著,卻馬上開始哭泣。

從那天起,艾爾攸夏不再和烏絲丁妮亞談他們的婚事,過著像以前一樣的日子。

在懺悔節期間的某一天,雇員要艾爾攸夏去清掉屋頂的積雪。他爬上屋頂,掃完了雪,當他開始打掉排水管附近的一些凍結的冰塊時,他的腳從站的地方滑出去,他跟著他的鏟子頭下腳上的掉了下來。正如所有的不幸所該有的,他沒有掉在積雪上,卻掉在門前的鐵軌上。烏絲丁妮亞跑上來看他,跟著是商人的女兒。

「你受傷了嗎?艾爾攸夏。」

「是的。但是沒什麼。沒事。」

他要站起來,卻是沒辦法,只是微笑著。其他的人來了,把他抬到下人的住處。一個醫院的衛生員來了,檢視他,問他哪裡疼。「到處都疼,」他回答:「但是沒什麼。沒事。只是主人會不高興。也要告訴老爸一聲。」

艾爾攸夏在床上整整躺了兩天,然後在第三天,他們去請了一個教士。

「你不會是要死了吧?」烏絲丁妮亞問。

「是這樣,我們不可能永遠活著。只是時間不同而已,」他像以往一樣,很快回答。「謝謝你,親愛的烏絲丁妮亞,謝謝你憐惜我。你看,還好他們不讓我們結婚,因為這是不會有什麼結果的。現在什麼都過去了。」

他和教士一起禱告,但是只用他的雙手和他的心。在他的心裡,他覺得假如他在這兒是好的,只要他順服,不冒犯人,到哪裡都是好的。

他不說話,只要求喝些東西還有莫名的微笑。然後他好像對什麼東西感到驚奇,兩腳一蹬就死了。

*********************************

Alyosha was a younger brother. He was nicknamed “the Pot,” because once, when his mother sent him with a pot of milk for the deacon’s wife, he stumbled and broke it. His mother thrashed him soundly, and the children in the village began to tease him, calling him “the Pot.” Alyosha the Pot: and this is how he got his nickname.

Alyosha was a skinny little fellow, lop-eared—his ears stuck out like wings—and with a large nose. The children always teased him about this, too, saying “Alyosha has a nose like a gourd on a pole!”

There was a school in the village where Alyosha lived, but reading and writing and such did not come easy for him, and besides there was no time to learn. His older brother lived with a merchant in town, and Alyosha had begun helping his father when still a child. When he was only six years old, he was already watching over his family’s cow and sheep with his younger sister in the common pasture. And long before he was grown, he had started taking care of their horses day and night. From his twelfth year he plowed and carted. He hardly had the strength for all these chores, but he did have a certain manner—he was always cheerful. When the children laughed at him, he fell silent or laughed himself. If his father cursed him, he stood quietly and listened. And when they finished and ignored him again, he smiled and went back to whatever task was before him.

When Alyosha was nineteen years old, his brother was taken into the army; and his father arranged for Alyosha to take his brother’s place as a servant in the merchant’s household. He was given his brother’s old boots and his father’s cap and coat and was taken into town. Alyosha was very pleased with his new clothes, but the merchant was quite dissatisfied with his appearance.

I thought you would bring me a young man just like Semyon,” said the merchant, looking Alyosha over carefully. “But you’ve brought me such a sniveler. What’s he good for?”

 Ah, he can do anything—harness and drive anywhere you like. And he’s a glutton for work. Only looks like a stick. He’s really very wiry.”

That much is plain. Well, we shall see.”

And above all he’s a meek one. Loves to work.”

Well, what can I do? Leave him.”

And so Alyosha began to live with the merchant.

The merchant’s family was not large. There were his wife, his old mother, and three children. His older married son, who had only completed grammar school, was in business with his father. His other son, a studious sort, had been graduated from the high school and was for a time at the university, though he had been expelled and now lived at home. And there was a daughter, too, a young girl in the high school.

At first they did not like Alyosha. He was too much the peasant and was poorly dressed. He had no manners and addressed everyone familiarly as in the country. But soon they grew used to him. He was a better servant than his brother and was always very responsive. Whatever they set him to do he did willingly and quickly, moving from one task to another without stopping. And at the merchant’s, just as at home, all the work was given to Alyosha. The more he did, the more everyone heaped upon him. The mistress of the household and her old mother-in-law, and the daughter, and the younger son, even the merchant’s clerk and the cook—all sent him here and sent him there and ordered him to do everything that they could think of. The only thing that Alyosha ever heard was “Run do this, fellow,” or “Alyosha, fix this up now,” or “Did you forget, Alyosha? Look here, fellow, don’t you forget!” And Alyosha ran, and fixed, and looked, and did not forget, and managed to do everything and smiled all the while.

Alyosha soon wore out his brother’s boots, and the merchant scolded him sharply for walking about in tatters with his bare feet sticking out and ordered him to buy new boots in the market. These boots were truly new, and Alyosha was very happy with them; but his feet remained old all the same, and by evening they ached so from running that he got mad at them. Alyosha was afraid that when his father came to collect his wages, he would be very annoyed that the master had deducted the cost of the new boots from his pay.

In winter Alyosha got up before dawn, chopped firewood, swept out the courtyard, fed grain to the cow and the horses and watered them. Afterward, he lit the stoves, cleaned the boots and coats of all the household, got out the samovars and polished them. Then, either the clerk called him into the shop to take out the wares or the cook ordered him to knead the dough and to wash the pans. And later he would be sent into town with a message, or to the school for the daughter, or to fetch lamp oil or something else for the master’s old mother. “Where have you been loafing, you worthless thing?” one would say to him, and then another. Or among themselves they would say “Why go yourself? Alyosha will run for you. Alyosha, Alyosha!” And Alyosha would run.

Alyosha always ate breakfast on the run and was seldom in time for dinner. The cook was always chiding him, because he never took meals with the others, but for all that she did feel sorry for him and always left him something hot for dinner and for supper.

Before and during holidays there was a lot more work for Alyosha, though he was happier during holidays, because then everyone gave him tips, not much, only about sixty kopeks usually; but it was his own money, which he could spend as he chose. He never laid eyes on his wages, for his father always came into town and took from the merchant Alyosha’s pay, giving him only the rough edge of his tongue for wearing out his brother’s boots too quickly. When he had saved two rubles altogether from tips, Alyosha bought on the cook’s advice a red knitted sweater. When he put it on for the first time and looked down at himself, he was so surprised and delighted that he just stood in the kitchen gaping and gulping.

Alyosha said very little, and when he did speak, it was always to say something necessary abruptly and briefly. And when he was told to do something or other or was asked if he could do it, he always answered, without the slightest hesitation, “I can do it.” And he would immediately throw himself into the job and do it.

Alyosha did not know how to pray at all. His mother had once taught him the words, but he had forgotten even as she spoke. Nonetheless, he did pray, morning and evening, but simply, just with his hands, crossing himself.

Thus Alyosha lived for a year and a half, and then, during the second half of the second year, the most unusual experience of his life occurred. This experience was his sudden discovery, to his complete amazement, that besides those relationships between people that arise from the need that one may have for another, there also exist other relationships that are completely different: not a relationship that a person has with another because that other is needed to clean boots, to run errands or to harness horses; but a relationship that a person has with another who is in no way necessary to him, simply because that other one wants to serve him and to be loving to him. And he discovered, too, that he, Alyosha, was just such a person. He realized all this through the cook Ustinja. Ustinja was an orphan, a young girl yet, and as hard a worker as Alyosha. She began to feel sorry for Alyosha, and Alyosha for the first time in his life felt that he himself, not his services, but he himself was needed by another person. When his mother had been kind to him or had felt sorry for him, he took no notice of it, because it seemed to him so natural a thing, just the same as if he felt sorry for himself. But suddenly he realized that Ustinja, though completely a stranger, felt sorry for him, too. She always left him a pot of kasha with butter, and when he ate, she sat with him, watching him with her chin propped upon her fist. And when he looked up at her and she smiled, he, too, smiled.

It was all so new and so strange that at first Alyosha was frightened. He felt that it disturbed his work, his serving, but he was nonetheless very happy. And when he happened to look down and notice his trousers, which Ustinja had mended for him, he would shake his head and smile. Often while he was working or running an errand, he would think of Ustinja and mutter warmly “Ah, that Ustinja!” Ustinja helped him as best she could, and he helped her. She told him all about her life, how she had been orphaned when very young, how an old aunt had taken her in, how this aunt later sent her into town to work, how the merchant’s son had tried stupidly to seduce her, and how she put him in his place. She loved to talk, and he found listening to her very pleasant. Among other things he heard that in town it often happened that peasant boys who came to serve in households would marry the cooks. And once she asked him if his parents would marry him off soon. He replied that he didn’t know and that there was no one in his village whom he wanted.

What, then, have you picked out someone else?” she asked.

Yes. I’d take you. Will you?”

O Pot, my Pot, how cunningly you put it to me!” she said, cuffing him playfully on the back with her ladle.

At Shrovetide Alyosha’s old father came into town again to collect his son’s wages. The merchant’s wife had found out that Alyosha planned to marry Ustinja, and she was not at all pleased. “She will just get pregnant, and then what good will she be!” she complained to her husband.

The merchant counted out Alyosha’s money to his father. “Well, is my boy doing all right by you?” asked the old man. “I told you he was a meek one, would do anything you say.”

Meek or no, he’s done something stupid. He has got it into his head to marry the cook. And I will not keep married servants. It doesn’t suit us.”

Eh, that little fool! What a fool! How can he think to do such a stupid thing! But don’t worry over it. I’ll make him forget all that nonsense.”

The old man walked straight into the kitchen and sat down at the table to wait for his son. Alyosha was, as always, running an errand, but he soon came in all out of breath.

Well, I thought you were a sensible fellow, but what nonsense you’ve thought up!” Aloysha’s father greeted him.

I’ve done nothing.”

What d’you mean nothing! You’ve decided to marry. I’ll marry you when the time comes, and I’ll marry you to whoever I want, not to some town.”

The old man said a great deal more of the same sort. Alyosha stood quietly and sighed.

When his father finished, he smiled.

So I’ll forget about it,” he said.

See that you do right now,” the old man said curtly as he left.

When his father had gone and Alyosha remained alone with Ustinja, who had been standing behind the kitchen door listening while his father was talking, he said to her: “Our plan won’t work out. Did you hear? He was furious, won’t let us.”

Ustinja began to cry quietly into her apron. Alyosha clucked his tongue and said, “How could I not obey him? Look, we must forget all about it.”

In the evening, when the merchant’s wife called him to close the shutters, she said to him, “Are you going to obey your father and forget all this nonsense about marrying?”

Yes. Of course. I’ve forgot it,” Alyosha said quickly, then smiled and immediately began weeping.

From that time Alyosha did not speak again to Ustinja about marriage and lived as he had before.

 One morning during Lent the clerk sent Alyosha to clear the snow off the roof. He crawled up onto the roof, shoveled it clean, and began to break up the frozen snow near the gutters when his feet slipped out from under him and he fell headlong with his shovel. As ill luck would have it, he fell not into the snow, but onto an entryway with an iron railing. Ustinja ran up to him, followed by the merchant’s daughter.

Are you hurt, Alyosha?”

Yes. But it’s nothing. Nothing.”

He wanted to get up, but he could not and just smiled. Others came and carried him down into the yard-keeper’s lodge. An orderly from the hospital arrived, examined him, and asked where he hurt. “It hurts all over,” he replied. “But it’s nothing. Nothing. Only the master will be annoyed. Must send word to Papa.”

Alyosha lay abed for two full days, and then, on the third day, they sent for a priest.

You’re not going to die, are you?” asked Ustinja.

Well, we don’t all live forever. It must be some time,” he answered quickly, as always. “Thank you, dear Ustinja, for feeling sorry for me. See, it’s better they didn’t let us marry, for nothing would have come of it. And now all is fine.”

He prayed with the priest, but only with his hands and with his heart. And in his heart he felt that if he was good here, if he obeyed and did not offend, then there all would be well.

He said little. He only asked for something to drink and smiled wonderingly. Then he seemed surprised at something, and stretched out and died.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

懺悔錄A Confession Ch-3

Bashkirs

by Leo Tolstoy
1882
Bill Lin

3.

我自暴自棄的在這種精神錯亂下又生活了六年,直到我結婚時為止。在這段時間我到了國外。歐洲的生活,和我所熟識的先驅和有學問的歐洲人,不只肯定也更增強了我原本就相信的,努力追求完美的信仰,因為我發現在他們之間,也有這相同的信仰。這信仰使我有了我們那個時代大部分受過教育的人所具有的共同形式。用一個字來表示,就是「進步」。那時我以為這個字有某種意義。只是我還不明白,被什麼才是最適合我的生活的問題所困擾(像每一個有活力的人那樣),我的答案,「符合進步的生活」,我就像一個人在任憑風浪擺佈的小船中,必須回答他的唯一的主要問題:「船要開到哪裡?」卻只會說:「我們正被帶到那裡。」

那時我沒有注意到這一點。只是偶而──不是經由理性而是藉著直覺,我背叛了這個在我們那時最流行的迷信,它被人們用來掩蓋自己對生活的不理解。例如,當我在巴黎的時候,一個執行死刑的景象揭示了我對進步的迷信的動搖。當我看到一個人身首異處,分別掉落在棺材裡時,我明白,不只是我的情感,而是我的身心全人,都認為沒有一個以我們目前進步的有理性的學說能為這一行為辯解;縱使自創世以來的每一個人,持著任何學說,認為這是需要的,我知道這是不需要而且是不好的;所以決定什麼是良善,什麼是邪惡,並不是人們說什麼,做什麼,也不是進不進步,而是在於我和自己的心。另一個使我意識到迷信於進步並不足以當生命的指南的實例就是我哥哥的死亡。他聰明、善良、嚴肅,年紀輕輕的就病了,折磨了一年多,痛苦地死了,不了解為什麼活著,更不了解為什麼必須死。沒什麼學說能給我,或給他,在他緩慢而痛苦死亡的這段時間裡,針對這些問題的任何回答。但這些只是少許懷疑的例子,實際上我繼續生活在自稱只求進步的信仰之下。「每樣東西都在進化,我也跟著進化;而為什麼我和其所有的東西一起進化,日後方見分曉。」所以到那時,我應該會制定好我的信仰。

從國外一回來,我就住到鄉下,有個機會在農民學校中任職。當虛偽對我變得更明顯而且是瞪著我的臉瞧的那段時間,這工作特別對我的口味,因為在學校裡,當我試著用文學的教材教導人們時,我不需面對虛偽。在這兒我也是為進步而工作,但我已經以批判的眼光來看待進步本身了。我對自己說:「進步的某些發展是錯的, 在基本無知的農村孩子當中,一個人必須用完全自由的精神,讓他們挑選他們高興走的路去進展。」實際上,我還是在繞著同一個無解的題目打轉,就是:如何在不知道教什麼的情況下教人。在文學活動的高層領域裡,我已經意識到,一個人不知道要教什麼,是不能教的,因為我看到,大家教的都不一樣,再經過彼此之間的爭吵,只達到了相互隱瞞他們自己的無知。可是在這兒,和農民的孩子在一起,我想我可以避開這個難題,讓他們學他們願意學的東西。現在我一想起來就感到好笑,為了滿足我的教人的慾望而如此的蒙混時,其實在我內心的深處,我很明白,我不能教任何有用的東西,因為我不知道什麼是有用的。在學校工作了一年以後,我再次出國,想要發現如何在自己一無所知的情況下來教導別人。

依我看來,我已經在國外學到了這些,在解放農奴的那年(1861)我帶著所有這方面的智慧回到俄國,擔任調停人的職務。我開始教人,在學校裡教沒有受過教育的人,同時用我出版的雜誌教知識階級的人。一切看來都很順利,但我感覺到,我的心理不太對勁,事情不能這樣持久下去。那時我很可能陷入絕望的境地,就像我15年以後那樣,若不是有了另一面我還沒有體驗過、而且應許我幸福的生活:那就是我的婚姻。

一整年我忙於調停的工作,學校,雜誌;我變得幾乎累死了──特別是我的心理錯亂的影響──而且為了做好我的調停人的工作而很辛苦,在學校裡看不出我的作為的果效,我厭惡自己在雜誌上的蒙混(這些都是出於同一樣事情:渴望要教每個人,又想掩蓋自己不知道該教什麼的事實),結果我病了,精神病而非肉體上的病,我放下了一切,跑到巴什基爾Bashkirs 人的草原,去呼吸新鮮空氣,喝馬奶,過著只像動物的生活。

從那裡回來以後,我結了婚。幸福家庭生活的新環境,完全移轉我所有對生活的一般目的的探索。在那段期間,我的全部生活都集中在我的家庭、妻子、孩子,和因此而介意要增加我的資財。以往我的努力追求自我完美,早被追求普遍的完美,就是要求進步所代替,而現在又被只單純的要獲取自己和我的家庭的最佳福利的作為所代替了。

如此的又過了15年。儘管事實上,我現在認為著作權不重要──以我的輕微的工作而換取巨大的金錢獎勵和掌聲的誘惑──所以我全力以赴的寫作,把它作為改善自己的物質條件和抑制在我靈裡的關於自己的生活,或一般生活的意義的所有問題的手段。

我寫著:我教導的目的,惟一的真相,就是一個人必須活下去,以便使自己和他的家庭享有最美好的一切。

所以我活下去;但是五年前,我開始碰到一種很奇怪的現象。起先,我經歷到片刻的迷惑和生命停滯,就像是我不知道要做什麼,或該如何活下去;我感到徬徨,變得沮喪。但這個過了,我照樣活著。後來,這些片刻的迷茫開始越發頻繁,總是依著相同的形式。他們常常表現出這樣的問題:目的何在?再下去會是如何?

起先我以為這些是雜亂的,不著邊際的問題。我想這問題是很普遍的,如果我會想要得到解答,應該不會花費我太多的功夫;只是現在我沒有時間,一旦我要的時候,我應該能找到答案。然而這些問題開始重複頻繁地出現,越來越強烈地要求回答,就像一滴滴的墨水,總是落在同一個地方,它們聚成了一個 大黑點。

然後出現了每一個患有內部不治之症的病人的現象。起先只有小病痛的跡象,病人並不在意,後來症狀重複頻繁出現,合併變成一個持續不停的痛苦。痛苦日益加劇,在病人還能回顧以前,他原先認為只是小病痛,已經變成對他來說是世界上最重大的事情──就是死亡!

那就是發生在我身上的事。我知道這不是偶然的病痛,而是某些非常重要的事情,如果這些問題一直在那裡重複,它們就必須得到回答。所以我試著去回答。這些問題看起來是那樣愚蠢,簡單,幼稚的;但是當我一接觸到它們,試著回答時,我立刻被說服了,第一,它們不是 幼稚和愚蠢,而是生活中最重要最深奧的問題;第二,要專心去管理我的薩馬拉Samara的田產、教育兒子、或寫一本書,我必須知道我“為什麼”去做這些事。只要我不知道為什麼,我不能做什麼也活不下去了。那時我正專注於產業管理的思考,這問題突然會冒出來:「這樣,你將會在薩馬拉省有6,000俄畝(註:1俄畝約合2.75英畝。)的土地,300匹馬,然後呢?」我完全被攪亂了,不知道要想什麼。或者當考慮到我的孩子們的教育計畫時,我會自言自語:「目的何在?」或者當我想到農民如何才能致富的時候,我會突然對自己說:「但這與我何干?」或者當我想到我的作品給我帶來的聲譽時,我會對自己說:「很好;你的聲譽比歌葛爾、或普希金、或莎士比亞、或莫裡哀,或比世界上所有的作家都高,那又如何?」我什麼都回答不了。這些問題不能等,他們要我立刻回答,假如我不回答,它們不會放過我,我活不下去了。但是沒有答案。

我覺得我的立足點已經崩潰了,我的腳底下空無一物。我所賴以維生的不再存在,蕩然無存。

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So I lived, abandoning myself to this insanity for another six years, till my marriage. During that time I went abroad. Life in Europe and my acquaintance with leading and learned Europeans confirmed me yet more in the faith of striving after perfection in which I believed, for I found the same faith among them. That faith took with me the common form it assumes with the majority of educated people of our day. It was expressed by the word "progress". It then appeared to me that this word meant something. I did not as yet understand that, being tormented (like every vital man) by the question how it is best for me to live, in my answer, "Live in conformity with progress", I was like a man in a boat who when carried along by wind and waves should reply to what for him is the chief and only question. "whither to steer", by saying, "We are being carried somewhere".

I did not then notice this. Only occasionally - not by reason but by instinct - I revolted against this superstition so common in our day, by which people hide from themselves their lack of understanding of life…. So, for instance, during my stay in Paris, the sight of an execution revealed to me the instability of my superstitious belief in progress. When I saw the head part from the body and how they thumped separately into the box, I understood, not with my mind but with my whole being, that no theory of the reasonableness of our present progress could justify this deed; and that though everybody from the creation of the world had held it to be necessary, on whatever theory, I knew it to be unnecessary and bad; and therefore the arbiter of what is good and evil is not what people say and do, nor is it progress, but it is my heart and I. Another instance of a realization that the superstitious belief in progress is insufficient as a guide to life, was my brother's death. Wise, good, serious, he fell ill while still a young man, suffered for more than a year, and died painfully, not understanding why he had lived and still less why he had to die. No theories could give me, or him, any reply to these questions during his slow and painful dying. But these were only rare instances of doubt, and I actually continued to live professing a faith only in progress. "Everything evolves and I evolve with it: and why it is that I evolve with all things will be known some day." So I ought to have formulated my faith at that time.

On returning from abroad I settled in the country and chanced to occupy myself with peasant schools. This work was particularly to my taste because in it I had not to face the falsity which had become obvious to me and stared me in the face when I tried to teach people by literary means. Here also I acted in the name of progress, but I already regarded progress itself critically. I said to myself: "In some of its developments progress has proceeded wrongly, and with primitive peasant children one must deal in a spirit of perfect freedom, letting them choose what path of progress they please." In reality I was ever revolving round one and the same insoluble problem, which was: How to teach without knowing what to teach. In the higher spheres of literary activity I had realized that one could not teach without knowing what, for I saw that people all taught differently, and by quarrelling among themselves only succeeded in hiding their ignorance from one another. But here, with peasant children, I thought to evade this difficulty by letting them learn what they liked. It amuses me now when I remember how I shuffled in trying to satisfy my desire to teach, while in the depth of my soul I knew very well that I could not teach anything needful for I did not know what was needful. After spending a year at school work I went abroad a second time to discover how to teach others while myself knowing nothing.

And it seemed to me that I had learnt this abroad, and in the year of the peasants' emancipation (1861) I returned to Russia armed with all this wisdom, and having become an Arbiter [Footnote: To keep peace between peasants and owners.-A.M.] I began to teach, both the uneducated peasants in schools and the educated classes through a magazine I published. Things appeared to be going well, but I felt I was not quite sound mentally and that matters could not long continue in that way. And I should perhaps then have come to the state of despair I reached fifteen years later had there not been one side of life still unexplored by me which promised me happiness: that was my marriage.

For a year I busied myself with arbitration work, the schools, and the magazine; and I became so worn out - as a result especially of my mental confusion - and so hard was my struggle as Arbiter, so obscure the results of my activity in the schools, so repulsive my shuffling in the magazine (which always amounted to one and the same thing: a desire to teach everybody and to hide the fact that I did not know what to teach), that I fell ill, mentally rather than physically, threw up everything, and went away to the Bashkirs in the steppes, to breathe fresh air, drink kumys [Footnote: A fermented drink prepared from mare's milk.-A. M.], and live a merely animal life.

Returning from there I married. The new conditions of happy family life completely diverted me from all search for the general meaning of life. My whole life was centred at that time in my family, wife and children, and therefore in care to increase our means of livelihood. My striving after self-perfection, for which I had already substituted a striving for perfection in general, i.e. progress, was now again replaced by the effort simply to secure the best possible conditions for myself and my family.

So another fifteen years passed. In spite of the fact that I now regarded authorship as of no importance - the temptation of immense monetary rewards and applause for my insignificant work - and I devoted myself to it as a means of improving my material position and of stifling in my soul all questions as to the meaning of my own life or life in general.

I wrote: teaching what was for me the only truth, namely, that one should live so as to have the best for oneself and one's family.

So I lived; but five years ago something very strange began to happen to me. At first I experienced moments of perplexity and arrest of life, and though I did not know what to do or how to live; and I felt lost and became dejected. But this passed and I went on living as before. Then these moments of perplexity began to recur oftener and oftener, and always in the same form. They were always expressed by the questions: What is it for? What does it lead to?

At first it seemed to me that these were aimless and irrelevant questions. I thought that it was all well known, and that if I should ever wish to deal with the solution it would not cost me much effort; just at present I had no time for it, but when I wanted to I should be able to find the answer. The questions however began to repeat themselves frequently, and to demand replies more and more insistently; and like drops of ink always falling on one place they ran together into one black blot.

Then occurred what happens to everyone sickening with a mortal internal disease. At first trivial signs of indisposition appear to which the sick man pays no attention; then these signs reappear more and more often and merge into one uninterrupted period of suffering. The suffering increases, and before the sick man can look round, what he took for a mere indisposition has already become more important to him than anything else in the world - it is death!

That is what happened to me. I understood that it was no casual indisposition but something very important, and that if these questions constantly repeated themselves they would have to be answered. And I tried to answer them. The questions seemed such stupid, simple, childish ones; but as soon as I touched them and tried to solve them I at once became convinced, first, that they are not childish and stupid but the most important and profound of life's questions; and secondly that, occupying myself with my Samara estate, the education of my son, or the writing of a book, I had to know *why* I was doing it. As long as I did not know why, I could do nothing and could not live. Amid the thoughts of estate management which greatly occupied me at that time, the question would suddenly occur: "Well, you will have 6,000 desyatinas [Footnote: The desyatina is about 2.75 acres.-A.M.] of land in Samara Government and 300 horses, and what then?" ... And I was quite disconcerted and did not know what to think. Or when considering plans for the education of my children, I would say to myself: "What for?" Or when considering how the peasants might become prosperous, I would suddenly say to myself: "But what does it matter to me?" Or when thinking of the fame my works would bring me, I would say to myself, "Very well; you will be more famous than Gogol or Pushkin or Shakespeare or Moliere, or than all the writers in the world - and what of it?" And I could find no reply at all. The questions would not wait, they had to be answered at once, and if I did not answer them it was impossible to live. But there was no answer.

I felt that what I had been standing on had collapsed and that I had nothing left under my feet. What I had lived on no longer existed, and there was nothing left.