The Old Manse in Autumn古宅之秋

納撒尼爾·霍桑 蘭秀娟

【導讀】納撒尼爾·霍桑（1804—1864），美國著名浪漫主義小說家，出生于美國馬薩諸塞州，畢業于波登大學。著有長篇小說《紅字》《七角樓房》，短篇小說《重講一遍的故事》《古屋苔痕》等，其中《紅字》已成為世界文學經典，也奠定了他在美國文壇的地位。詩人、批評家T. S. 艾略特曾評價道：“霍桑具有純正藝術家所必備的鐵石心腸、真誠而嚴厲的冷靜頭腦。”

本文節選自霍桑短篇小說《古屋苔痕》的序文，描寫的是愛默生的祖父威廉·愛默生牧師于1765年建造的一座古屋。這座古屋后來被轉給普利牧師，普利牧師死后就轉售給了霍桑。古屋見證了歷史的變遷和四季的更迭，也承載了霍桑生命中很多重要的記憶。本選段描繪了秋色中的古屋。在描寫景物時，霍桑將自己關于人生哲理的思考注入其中，凸顯其深邃的智慧。

If ever my readers should decide to give up civilized life， cities， houses， and whatever moral or material enormities1， in addition to these， the perverted ingenuity of our race has contrived2， —let it be in the early autumn. Then， Nature will love him better than at any other season， and will take him to her bosom with a more motherly tenderness. I could scarcely endure the roof of the old house above me， in those first autumnal days. How early in the summer， too， the prophecy of autumn comes！ —earlier in some years than in others， —sometimes， even in the first weeks of July. There is no other feeling like what is caused by this faint， doubtful， yet real perception， if it be not rather a foreboding3， of the year’s decay—so blessedly sweet and sad， in the same breath.

Did I say that there was no feeling like it？ Ah， but there is a half-acknowledged melancholy4， like to this， when we stand in the perfected vigor of our life， and feel that Time has now given us all his flowers， and that the next work of his never idle fingers must be—to steal them， one by one， away！

I have forgotten whether the song of the cricket be not as early a token of autumn’s approach， as any other; —that song， which may be called an audible stillness; for， though very loud and heard afar， yet the mind does not take note of it as a sound; so completely is its individual existence merged among the accompanying characteristics of the season. Alas， for the pleasant summer-time！ In August， the grass is still verdant5 on the hills and in the vallies; the foliage of the trees is as dense6 as ever， and as green; the flowers gleam forth in richer abundance along the margin of the river， and by the stone-walls， and deep among the woods; the days， too， are as fervid7 now as they were a month ago;—and yet， in every breath of wind， and in every beam of sunshine， we hear the whispered farewell， and behold the parting smile， of a dear friend.

There is a coolness amid all the heat; a mildness in the blazing noon. Not a breeze can stir， but it thrills us with the breath of autumn. A pensive8 glory is seen in the far， golden gleams， among the shadows of the trees. The flowers—even the brightest of them， and they are the most gorgeous of the year—have this gentle sadness wedded to their pomp9， and typify the character of the delicious time， each within itself. The brilliant cardinal-flower has never seemed gay to me.

Still later in the season， Nature’s tenderness waxes stronger. It is impossible not to be fond of our Mother now; for she is so fond of us！ At other periods， she does not make this impression on me， or only at rare intervals; but， in these genial days of autumn， when she has perfected her harvests， and accomplished every needful thing that was given her to do， then she overflows with a blessed superfluity10 of love. She has leisure to caress her children now. It is good to be alive， at such times. Thank heaven for breath！—yes， for mere breath！—when it is made up of a heavenly breeze like this！ It comes with a real kiss upon our cheeks; it would linger fondly around us， if it might; but， since it must be gone， it embraces us with its whole kindly heart， and passes onward， to embrace likewise the next thing that it meets.

A blessing is flung abroad， and scattered far and wide over the earth， to be gathered up by all who choose. I recline upon the still unwithered grass， and whisper to myself：—‘Oh， perfect day！—Oh， beautiful world！—Oh， beneficent God！’ And it is the promise of a blissful Eternity; for our Creator would never have made such lovely days， and have given us the deep hearts to enjoy them， above and beyond all thought， unless we were meant to be immortal. This sunshine is the golden pledge thereof. It beams through the gates of Paradise， and shows us glimpses far inward.

By-and-by—in a little time—the outward world puts on a drear11 austerity12. On some October morning， there is a heavy hoar-frost on the grass， and along the tops of the fences; and， at sunrise， the leaves fall from the trees of our avenue without a breath of wind， quietly descending by their own weight. All summer long， they have murmured like the noise of waters; they have roared loudly， while the branches were wrestling with the thunder-gust; they have made music， both glad and solemn; they have attuned13 my thoughts by their quiet sound， as I paced to-and-fro beneath the arch of intermingling14 boughs. Now， they can only rustle under my feet.

Henceforth， the gray parsonage15 begins to assume a larger importance， and draws to its fireside—for the abomination16 of the air-tight stove is reserved till wintry weather—draws closer and closer to its fireside the vagrant17 impulses， that had gone wandering about， through the summer.

假如我的讀者們決定逃離文明生活，離開城市和住所，放棄任何精神或物質上的罪行，也舍棄我們人類種種過頭的聰明，那么，初秋便是最好的時候了。那時候，大自然會比任何時候都更愛他，會以更慈愛的溫柔將他擁入懷中。在初秋的日子里，待在古宅里簡直令我不堪忍受。夏日未央，秋意便隨之而來！有些年來得比往年早，甚至在七月初。沒有什么比得上這種感覺，淡淡的，令人生疑，卻顯真實，即使不算是一種不祥的預感，即預示著這一年衰落的開始——如此充滿幸福與甜蜜，卻又夾雜著哀愁。

我是否說過這是種特別的感覺？啊，但是有一種似真非真的憂郁，就像這樣，當我們處于盛年，感受著時間將所有的花朵賜予我們，而他的手指從不停歇，他的下一個工作必定是——一朵接一朵地把花偷走！

我已經忘了，蟋蟀的奏鳴曲是否如同其他鳴叫聲一樣，早早便預示秋天的來臨;蟋蟀之歌可以被稱作一種能聽見的靜謐;聲音雖大，傳至八方，卻讓人感覺不到這鳴叫聲的特別存在;它早已與秋天的其他特色融為一體。唉，多么美好的夏天啊！八月，山上和山谷里的青草依然翠綠，樹上的枝葉茂密、青翠一如往常，花兒在河畔、石墻邊和叢林深處熠熠生輝，天兒還是和一個月前一樣熱——但是，在每一絲風的氣息里，在每一縷陽光中，我們都聽到一位親愛的朋友的低聲告別，也看到他臨別時的微笑。

股股熱浪中透出一絲涼爽;炎熱的正午也不再灼熱逼人。微風勢力尚弱，但已經攜著讓我們為之欣喜的秋意了。遠處的樹蔭間金光閃耀，燦爛中顯現出一股哀愁。這些花——即使是最鮮艷的，一年中最絢麗的——都在開得正盛時滿含這種淡淡的憂傷，每一朵都是這一宜人時節的代表。這朵紅花半邊蓮開得那樣燦爛耀眼，我卻覺得它從來都不快樂。

秋意漸濃，大自然的溫柔也與日俱增。大自然愛人類如子，我們也不可能不愛這位母親！在其他的季節，她不會給我留下這樣的印象，或者只是偶爾給我留下這樣的印象;但是，在這和煦的秋日里，當她完成了豐收，做完每一件需要她做的事情時，她就將滿溢祝福的愛傾注于人類。她現在有空愛撫她的孩子了。在這樣的時刻，活著真好。感謝上天賜予氣息！——是的，就因這氣息而感謝！——如同這從天而降的微風，親吻我們的臉頰;如果能夠駐足停留，它會深情地縈繞在我們身旁;但是，它必須離開，它竭盡善意地擁抱了我們，然后繼續前行，像這樣去擁抱下一個遇到的東西。

秋風將祝福播撒于廣闊的天地，任何人都可以將它的賞賜拾起。青草尚未干枯，我躺在草地上，自言自語道：“哦，完美的一天！——哦，美麗的世界！——哦，仁慈的上帝！”這是一個極樂的永恒的希望;除非我們注定是永生的，否則造物主永遠不會創造出如此美好的日子，并使我們超乎一切思考，得以從內心深處享受它們。這金色的陽光便是它的誓言。它從天堂之門照射到人間，讓我們得以瞥見天堂深處。

不久后，漸漸地，天地之間便呈現一片肅殺之氣。在十月的某個早晨，草地上和籬笆頂上都結了厚厚的白霜;日出時，葉子從林蔭道旁的樹上紛紛落下，沒有一絲風，它們只是因為自身的重量而飄落下來，悄無聲息。回想起整個夏天，樹葉像流水一樣喃喃低語;當樹枝與雷雨搏斗的時候，它們也發出咆哮之聲;它們奏起音樂，時而歡快，時而莊重;地上的枝杈縱橫交錯，成了拱形，當我在這些枝杈下來回踱步時，樹葉那輕輕的聲音使我的思緒與它們和諧一致了。現在，它們只能在我的腳下沙沙作響了。

自此，那幢灰色的牧師住宅就顯得更為重要，它將我一整個夏天四處游蕩的心都收了回來，拉近火爐，越來越近——在冬天來臨之前，那個可憎的密封爐都派不上用場。? ? ?□

（譯者單位：北京語言大學）