白痴 英文版 The Idiot
陀思妥耶夫斯基 Fyodor Dostoyevsky
The Idiot IV. Page 1
THE time appointed was twelve o'clock, and the prince, returninghome unexpectedly late, found the general waiting for him. At thefirst glance, he saw that the latter was displeased, perhapsbecause he had been kept waiting. The prince apologized, andquickly took a seat. He seemed strangely timid before the generalthis morning, for some reason, and felt as though his visitorwere some piece of china which he was afraid of breaking.
On scrutinizing him, the prince soon saw that the general wasquite a different man from what he had been the day before; helooked like one who had come to some momentous resolve. Hiscalmness, however, was more apparent than real. He was courteous,but there was a suggestion of injured innocence in his manner.
"I've brought your book back," he began, indicating a book lyingon the table. "Much obliged to you for lending it to me."
"Ah, yes. Well, did you read it, general? It's curious, isn'tit?" said the prince, delighted to be able to open upconversation upon an outside subject.
"Curious enough, yes, but crude, and of course dreadful nonsense;probably the man lies in every other sentence."
The general spoke with considerable confidence, and dragged hiswords out with a conceited drawl.
"Oh, but it's only the simple tale of an old soldier who saw theFrench enter Moscow. Some of his remarks were wonderfullyinteresting. Remarks of an eye-witness are always valuable,whoever he be, don't you think so
"Had I been the publisher I should not have printed it. As to theevidence of eye-witnesses, in these days people prefer impudentlies to the stories of men of worth and long service. I know ofsome notes of the year 1812, which--I have determined, prince, toleave this house, Mr. Lebedeff's house."
The general looked significantly at his host.
"Of course you have your own lodging at Pavlofsk at--at yourdaughter's house," began the prince, quite at a loss what to say.He suddenly recollected that the general had come for advice on amost important matter, affecting his destiny.
"At my wife's; in other words, at my own place, my daughter'shouse."
"I beg your pardon, I--"
"I leave Lebedeff's house, my dear prince, because I havequarrelled with this person. I broke with him last night, and amvery sorry that I did not do so before. I expect respect, prince,even from those to whom I give my heart, so to speak. Prince, Ihave often given away my heart, and am nearly always deceived.This person was quite unworthy of the gift."
"There is much that might be improved in him," said the prince,moderately, "but he has some qualities which--though amid themone cannot but discern a cunning nature--reveal what is often adiverting intellect."
The prince's tone was so natural and respectful that the generalcould not possibly suspect him of any insincerity.
"Oh, that he possesses good traits, I was the first to show, whenI very nearly made him a present of my friendship. I am notdependent upon his hospitality, and upon his house; I have my ownfamily. I do not attempt to justify my own weakness. I have drunkwith this man, and perhaps I deplore the fact now, but I did nottake him up for the sake of drink alone (excuse the crudeness ofthe expression, prince); I did not make friends with him for thatalone. I was attracted by his good qualities; but when the fellowdeclares that he was a child in 1812, and had his left leg cutoff, and buried in the Vagarkoff cemetery, in Moscow, such acock-and-bull story amounts to disrespect, my dear sir, to--toimpudent exaggeration."
"Oh, he was very likely joking; he said it for fun."
"I quite understand you. You mean that an innocent lie for thesake of a good joke is harmless, and does not offend the humanheart. Some people lie, if you like to put it so, out of purefriendship, in order to amuse their fellows; but when a man makesuse of extravagance in order to show his disrespect and to makeclear how the intimacy bores him, it is time for a man of honourto break off the said intimacy., and to teach the offender hisplace."
The general flushed with indignation as he spoke.
"Oh, but Lebedeff cannot have been in Moscow in 1812. He is muchtoo young; it is all nonsense."
"Very well, but even if we admit that he was alive in 1812, canone believe that a French chasseur pointed a cannon at him for alark, and shot his left leg off? He says he picked his own leg upand took it away and buried it in the cemetery. He swore he had astone put up over it with the inscription: 'Here lies the leg ofCollegiate Secretary Lebedeff,' and on the other side, 'Rest,beloved ashes, till the morn of joy,' and that he has a serviceread over it every year (which is simply sacrilege), and goes toMoscow once a year on purpose. He invites me to Moscow in orderto prove his assertion, and show me his leg's tomb, and the verycannon that shot him; he says it's the eleventh from the gate ofthe Kremlin, an old-fashioned falconet taken from the Frenchafterwards."
"And, meanwhile both his legs are still on his body," said theprince, laughing. "I assure you, it is only an innocent joke, andyou need not be angry about it."
"Excuse me--wait a minute--he says that the leg we see is awooden one, made by Tchernosvitoff."
"They do say one can dance with those!"
"Quite so, quite so; and he swears that his wife never found outthat one of his legs was wooden all the while they were married.When I showed him the ridiculousness of all this, he said, 'Well,if you were one of Napoleon's pages in 1812, you might let mebury my leg in the Moscow cemetery.'
"Why, did you say--" began the prince, and paused in confusion.
The general gazed at his host disdainfully.
"Oh, go on," he said, "finish your sentence, by all means. Sayhow odd it appears to you that a man fallen to such a depth ofhumiliation as I, can ever have been the actual eye-witness ofgreat events. Go on, I don't mind! Has he found time to tell youscandal about me?"
"No, I've heard nothing of this from Lebedeff, if you meanLebedeff."
"H'm; I thought differently. You see, we were talking over thisperiod of history. I was criticizing a current report ofsomething which then happened, and having been myself an eye-witness of the occurrence--you are smiling, prince--you arelooking at my face as if--"
"Oh no! not at all--I--"
"I am rather young-looking, I know; but I am actually older thanI appear to be. I was ten or eleven in the year 1812. I don'tknow my age exactly, but it has always been a weakness of mine tomake it out less than it really is.
"I assure you, general, I do not in the least doubt yourstatement. One of our living autobiographers states that when hewas a small baby in Moscow in 1812 the French soldiers fed himwith bread."
"Well, there you see!" said the general, condescendingly. "Thereis nothing whatever unusual about my tale. Truth very oftenappears to be impossible. I was a page--it sounds strange, I daresay. Had I been fifteen years old I should probably have beenterribly frightened when the French arrived, as my mother was(who had been too slow about clearing out of Moscow); but as Iwas only just ten I was not in the least alarmed, and rushedthrough the crowd to the very door of the palace when Napoleonalighted from his horse."
"Undoubtedly, at ten years old you would not have felt the senseof fear, as you say," blurted out the prince, horriblyuncomfortable in the sensation that he was just about to blush.
"Of course; and it all happened so easily and naturally. And yet,were a novelist to describe the episode, he would put in allkinds of impossible and incredible details."
"Oh," cried the prince, "I have often thought that! Why, I knowof a murder, for the sake of a watch. It's in all the papers now.But if some writer had invented it, all the critics would havejumped down his throat and said the thing was too improbable foranything. And yet you read it in the paper, and you can't helpthinking that out of these strange disclosures is to be gainedthe full knowledge of Russian life and character. You said thatwell, general; it is so true," concluded the prince, warmly,delighted to have found a refuge from the fiery blushes which hadcovered his face.
"Yes, it's quite true, isn't it?" cried the general, his eyessparkling with gratification. "A small boy, a child, wouldnaturally realize no danger; he would shove his way through thecrowds to see the shine and glitter of the uniforms, andespecially the great man of whom everyone was speaking, for atthat time all the world had been talking of no one but this manfor some years past. The world was full of his name; I--so tospeak--drew it in with my mother's milk. Napoleon, passing acouple of paces from me, caught sight of me accidentally. I wasvery well dressed, and being all alone, in that crowd, as youwill easily imagine...
"Oh, of course! Naturally the sight impressed him, and proved tohim that not ALL the aristocracy had left Moscow; that at leastsome nobles and their children had remained behind."
Just so just so! He wanted to win over the aristocracy! When hiseagle eye fell on me, mine probably flashed back in response.'Voila un garcon bien eveille! Qui est ton pere?' I immediatelyreplied, almost panting with excitement, 'A general, who died onthe battle-fields of his country! "Le fils d'un boyard et d'unbrave, pardessus le marche. J'aime les boyards. M'aimes-tu,petit?' To this keen question I replied as keenly, 'The Russianheart can recognize a great man even in the bitter enemy of hiscountry.' At least, I don't remember the exact words, you know,but the idea was as I say. Napoleon was struck; he thought aminute and then said to his suite: 'I like that boy's pride; ifall Russians think like this child', then he didn't finish, hutwent on and entered the palace. I instantly mixed with his suite,and followed him. I was already in high favour. I remember whenhe came into the first hall, the emperor stopped before aportrait of the Empress Katherine, and after a thoughtful glanceremarked, 'That was a great woman,' and passed on.
"Well, in a couple of days I was known all over the palace andthe Kremlin as 'le petit boyard.' I only went home to sleep. Theywere nearly out of their minds about me at home. A couple of daysafter this, Napoleon's page, De Bazancour, died; he had not beenable to stand the trials of the campaign. Napoleon remembered me;I was taken away without explanation; the dead page's uniform wastried on me, and when I was taken before the emperor, dressed init, he nodded his head to me, and I was told that I was appointedto the vacant post of page.
"Well, I was glad enough, for I had long felt the greatestsympathy for this man; and then the pretty uniform and all that--only a child, you know--and so on. It was a dark green dress coatwith gold buttons--red facings, white trousers, and a white silkwaistcoat--silk stockings, shoes with buckles, and top-boots if Iwere riding out with his majesty or with the suite.
"Though the position of all of us at that time was notparticularly brilliant, and the poverty was dreadful all round,yet the etiquette at court was strictly preserved, and the morestrictly in proportion to the growth of the forebodings ofdisaster."
"Quite so, quite so, of course!" murmured the poor prince, whodidn't know where to look. "Your memoirs would be mostinteresting."
The general was, of course, repeating what he had told Lebedeffthe night before, and thus brought it out glibly enough, but herehe looked suspiciously at the prince out of the corners of hiseyes.
"My memoirs!" he began, with redoubled pride and dignity. "Writemy memoirs? The idea has not tempted me. And yet, if you please,my memoirs have long been written, but they shall not see thelight until dust returns to dust. Then, I doubt not, they will betranslated into all languages, not of course on account of theiractual literary merit, but because of the great events of which Iwas the actual witness, though but a child at the time. As achild, I was able to penetrate into the secrecy of the greatman's private room. At nights I have heard the groans andwailings of this 'giant in distress.' He could feel no shame inweeping before such a mere child as I was, though I understoodeven then that the reason for his suffering was the silence ofthe Emperor Alexander."
"Yes, of course; he had written letters to the latter withproposals of peace, had he not?" put in the prince.
"We did not know the details of his proposals, but he wroteletter after letter, all day and every day. He was dreadfullyagitated. Sometimes at night I would throw myself upon his breastwith tears (Oh, how I loved that man!). 'Ask forgiveness, Oh, askforgiveness of the Emperor Alexander!' I would cry. I should havesaid, of course, 'Make peace with Alexander,' but as a child Iexpressed my idea in the naive way recorded. 'Oh, my child,' hewould say (he loved to talk to me and seemed to forget my tenderyears), 'Oh, my child, I am ready to kiss Alexander's feet, but Ihate and abominate the King of Prussia and the Austrian Emperor,and--and--but you know nothing of politics, my child.' He wouldpull up, remembering whom he was speaking to, but his eyes wouldsparkle for a long while after this. Well now, if I were todescribe all this, and I have seen greater events than these, allthese critical gentlemen of the press and political parties--Oh,no thanks! I'm their very humble servant, but no thanks!"
"Quite so--parties--you are very right," said the prince. "I wasreading a book about Napoleon and the Waterloo campaign only theother day, by Charasse, in which the author does not attempt toconceal his joy at Napoleon's discomfiture at every page. Wellnow, I don't like that; it smells of 'party,' you know. You arequite right. And were you much occupied with your service underNapoleon?"
The general was in ecstasies, for the prince's remarks, made, asthey evidently were, in all seriousness and simplicity, quitedissipated the last relics of his suspicion.
"I know Charasse's book! Oh! I was so angry with his work! Iwrote to him and said--I forget what, at this moment. You askwhether I was very busy under the Emperor? Oh no! I was called'page,' but hardly took my duty seriously. Besides, Napoleon verysoon lost hope of conciliating the Russians, and he would haveforgotten all about me had he not loved me--for personal reasons--I don't mind saying so now. My heart was greatly drawn to him,too. My duties were light. I merely had to be at the palaceoccasionally to escort the Emperor out riding, and that was aboutall. I rode very fairly well. He used to have a ride beforedinner, and his suite on those occasions were generally Davoust,myself, and Roustan."
"Constant?" said the prince, suddenly, and quite involuntarily.
"'Child,' he said, abruptly. 'If I were to recognize the Russianorthodox religion and emancipate the serfs, do you think Russiawould come over to me?'"
"'Never!' I cried, indignantly."
"The Emperor was much struck."
"'In the flashing eyes of this patriotic child I read and acceptthe fiat of the Russian people. Enough, Davoust, it is merephantasy on our part. Come, let's hear your other project.'"
"'Yes, but that was a great idea," said the prince, clearlyinterested. "You ascribe it to Davoust, do you?"
"Well, at all events, they were consulting together at the time.Of course it was the idea of an eagle, and must have originatedwith Napoleon; but the other project was good too--it was the'Conseil du lion!' as Napoleon called it. This project consistedin a proposal to occupy the Kremlin with the whole army; to armand fortify it scientifically, to kill as many horses as could begot, and salt their flesh, and spend the winter there; and inspring to fight their way out. Napoleon liked the idea--itattracted him. We rode round the Kremlin walls every day, andNapoleon used to give orders where they were to be patched, wherebuilt up, where pulled down and so on. All was decided at last.They were alone together--those two and myself.
"Napoleon was walking up and down with folded arms. I could nottake my eyes off his face--my heart beat loudly and painfully.
"'I'm off,' said Davoust. 'Where to?' asked Napoleon.
"'To salt horse-flesh,' said Davoust. Napoleon shuddered--hisfate was being decided.
"'Child,' he addressed me suddenly, 'what do you think of ourplan?' Of course he only applied to me as a sort of toss-up, youknow. I turned to Davoust and addressed my reply to him. I said,as though inspired:
"'Escape, general! Go home!--'
"The project was abandoned; Davoust shrugged his shoulders andwent out, whispering to himself--'Bah, il devient superstitieux!'Next morning the order to retreat was given."
"All this is most interesting," said the prince, very softly, "ifit really was so--that is, I mean--" he hastened to correcthimself.
"Oh, my dear prince," cried the general, who was now sointoxicated with his own narrative that he probably could nothave pulled up at the most patent indiscretion.
"You say, if it really was so!' There was more--much more, Iassure you! These are merely a few little political acts. I tellyou I was the eye-witness of the nightly sorrow and groanings ofthe great man, and of that no one can speak but myself. Towardsthe end he wept no more, though he continued to emit anoccasional groan; but his face grew more overcast day by day, asthough Eternity were wrapping its gloomy mantle about him.Occasionally we passed whole hours of silence together at night,Roustan snoring in the next room--that fellow slept like a pig.'But he's loyal to me and my dynasty,' said Napoleon of him.
"Sometimes it was very painful to me, and once he caught me withtears in my eyes. He looked at me kindly. 'You are sorry for me,'he said, 'you, my child, and perhaps one other child--my son,the King of Rome--may grieve for me. All the rest hate me; and mybrothers are the first to betray me in misfortune.' I sobbed andthrew myself into his arms. He could not resist me--he burst intotears, and our tears mingled as we folded each other in a closeembrace.
"'Write, oh, write a letter to the Empress Josephine!' I cried,sobbing. Napoleon started, reflected, and said, 'You remind me ofa third heart which loves me. Thank you, my friend;' and then andthere he sat down and wrote that letter to Josephine, with whichConstant was sent off next day."