Chapter 13 Notre-Dame de Paris (1) Volume 2 Dangerous and Dangerous (5)

six broken jars I ran desperately, ran for a long time, but didn't know where I was going, bumped my head on the street corner many times, crossed many gutters along the way, passed through many alleys, and many dead ends ②There are many forks, looking for the way to escape from the ancient stone road with twists and turns in the vegetable market, terrified, just like the beautiful Latin words in the literature, survey all roads, streets and alleys③, and then, we The poet suddenly stopped, first because he was out of breath, and second because a dilemma just appeared in his mind, as if he was suddenly grabbed by his collar.Putting his finger on his forehead, he said to himself: "Master Pierre Gringoire, Pierre Gringoire, I think you seem to be brainless when you run around like this. The little devils are afraid." You are no less afraid of them than you are. Listen, I think you must have heard the sound of their clogs as they fled to the south when you fled to the north. But it must be one or the other: or they slipped If they lost it, then they must have thrown the straw mattress down in a moment of fear. This is exactly the bed you have been looking for since early in the morning. You dedicated a miracle play to the Madonna, which was applauded in unison and was very lively. , she consecrates you with straw mats as a reward; or the children do not run away, if so, light the straw mats, and this is just the kind of marvelous fire you need, and you may enjoy it, toast Dry your clothes and warm your body. In both cases, be it a good fire or a good bed, a straw mattress is a gift from heaven. Perhaps it is for this reason that the Virgin Mary of Mercy at the corner of Rue Morgonseil Let Eustache Morpen die. You run like a Picard who runs for his life from a Frenchman, and throws behind what you were looking for. , aren’t you fooling around! What a fool you are!”

① Refers to the French bourgeois revolution. ②This is the original text.A dead end is impassable. ③ The original text is Latin. Thinking of this, he turned around and went back, groped for the direction, looked east and west, raised his head, pricked up his ears, and tried his best to find the straw mat that gave people happiness.But not found.Seeing intertwined houses, dead-end alleys, and intertwined intersections, he was in a dilemma, hesitating, blocked in advancing and retreating in the intricate dark streets and lanes, and he would not be so embarrassed even if he was trapped in the maze of the small tower mansion.At last, unable to restrain himself, he cried out with seriousness: "Cursed fork! The devil made it after his paws!"

With such a shout, I felt a little relieved.At this moment, he happened to see a reddish light flickering at the end of a narrow alley, and he cheered up all of a sudden, saying, "Praise God! It's there! That's the straw mattress I was looking for burning. " So he compared himself to a boatman lost in the night, and said reverently: "Salute, salute, navigation star! ①" Whether this fragment of prayer was dedicated to the Virgin or to the straw mat, we do not know. This alley was sloping, the road was not paved with gravel, and it became more muddy and inclined as it went down. He had just walked a few steps when he noticed something very strange.

This alley is not deserted.Along the way, here and there, vague, grotesque things crawled towards the flickering light at the end of the street, like lumbering insects at night towards a shepherd boy's campfire, struggling from a grass stalk to Another grass stalk. There is nothing more adventurous in the world than not having to keep checking to see if he still has his wallet.Gringoire went on and soon overtook a caterpillar which crawled the slowest and landed last.When I got closer, I realized that the wriggling thing was nothing but a poor, legless creature, with its hands on the ground, wriggling from side to side, just like a wounded spider with only two long legs left. .

When he passed by this human-faced spider, he heard a sad voice coming to him: "Please do it, sir, please do it! ②" "Go to hell! If I understand what you say, let the devil take me with you!" said Gringoire. As soon as the voice fell, he left. ① The original text is Latin. ② The original text is Italian. He caught up with another wriggling thing. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a crippled man with broken arms and legs. He had neither arms nor legs. The whole person was supported by crutches and wooden legs. It's almost like a mason's scaffolding is moving.

Gringoire's mind was full of antique and elegant metaphors, and he compared him to the three-legged living wok of Vulcan in his heart. As he passed, the cauldron raised its hat in homage to him, but it stopped short of Gringoire's chin, as if holding a shaving tray, and shouted at him: "Sir, buy a piece of bread for a few pennies!" "It appears that this one can also speak;" said Gringoire. "But this is an ugly language. If he understands it, he will have a much better life than me!" Suddenly he had an idea, he patted his forehead and said, "That's right, they kept shouting 'Esmeralda' this morning, what the hell does it mean?"

He tried to pick up the pace, but for the third time something blocked his way.This so-and-so, or rather this so-and-so, turned out to be a blind man, a small man with a Jewish face and a beard, who was darting about with a stick, led by a big dog, and only heard him With a Hungarian accent, he said in a strong nasal voice: "All right ②" "Well! at last there is one who speaks the language of Christianity," said Gringoire. "It must be because I look good and charitable, that's why they begged me for charity despite my empty pockets. ①The original text is in Spanish.

②The original text is Latin. ③ Refers to those who can speak Latin. My friend (turning to the blind man), I sold my last shirt last week, and since you only speak the language of Cicero, this means: 'I sold my last shirt last week. sold. ①'" As soon as he finished speaking, he turned around and continued on his way.But the blind man also started to stride at the same time. Unexpectedly, the paralyzed man and the legless man also rushed to catch up.So the three followed poor Gringoire, bumped into each other, and sang to him: "Well done!" sang the blind man. "Come on!" sang the Legless Man.

And the cripple took the phrase and sang repeatedly: "Buy some bread!" Gringoire quickly plugged his ears and cried: "Oh! Babel!" He ran as soon as he could, and he didn't expect the blind to run, the lame to run, and the legless to run. Then, as he drilled deeper into the street, more and more people with missing legs, blind people, and lame people surrounded him in groups; Some came out of the house, some came out of the nearby side streets, and some came out of the cellar transom. Howling wolves, howling cows, howling animals, all of them limped and stumbled. Stumbled, swarmed toward the light, and rolled around in the mud like a slug after the rain.

Those three men had been chasing Gringoire, who knew what would happen if he went on like this, and he, terrified out of his wits, scurried among the others, bypassing the crippled, stepping over the missing, and sinking his feet into the pit. Ant-nests of freaks, like that English captain caught in a swarm of crabs. ① The original text is Latin. ② Tower of Babel: The descendants of Noah in the Bible, a skyscraper tower that was fabricated but not completed.According to records, after the flood, the descendants of Noah came to Shinar in groups and decided to build a city and a tower reaching the sky here.The speed of construction was so fast that even God was disturbed, so he confused their languages ​​so that they could not understand each other, causing the tower to fall by the wayside.This refers to those beggars who speak different languages, which are difficult to understand.

Suddenly, I had an idea, and thought it would be better to try to turn around and run backwards.But it was too late.The whole mass of people had blocked his way of retreat, and the three beggars clung to him.So he ran on, driven by the unstoppable waves behind him, and also from fear and dizziness, which made it all seem like a nightmare. Finally, I finally ran to the end of the street, and there was a vast open space in front of me. I saw many dots of lights flickering and flickering in the vast night fog.Gringoire rushed forward, hoping to run fast enough to get rid of the three crippled devils who were closely following him. "Guy, let's see where you're going! ①" the man with the broken arm and missing leg roared, threw down his double stick, and stepped forward with two unparalleled thighs. His precise and even pace was never seen on the streets of Paris, and he followed closely. At this time, the legless man had stood up and put the heavy iron bowl on Gringoire's head, while the blind man stared at him with lantern-like eyes. "Where am I?" asked the poet, terrified. "In the Palace of Miracles." The fourth ghost who followed them replied. "I swear, I did see that the blind can see and the lame can run, but where is the Savior?" said Gringoire. When they heard this, they laughed sinisterly. ①The original text is in Spanish. ② Savior: Christianity's title for Jesus Christ, also known as Savior.According to legend, Jesus could heal the sick and have the ability to bring the dead back to life.This is to say that the savior can heal these disabled people at once, so why didn't he come to save Gringoire? ! The poor poet looked round, and he was indeed in this dreadful court of wonders, where no good man ever came at such an hour. This is the magic circle, where the officers of the little castles and the policemen of the courts dare to enter, and they will be smashed and destroyed; this is the den of thieves, the ugly pustules on the face of Paris; this is the sewer, the streets of all capitals. The usual overflowing sin, begging, and vagabond ditch water in the alley flows out here every morning and returns here to stay every night; Come back with the collected victories; this is the deceitful hospital where gypsies, lay monks, stumbled students, hooligans of every nation, such as Spanish, Italian, German, of every religion— Judaism, Christianity, Islam, idolaters--ruffians with fake scars all over their bodies, begging by day and turning robbers by night; in short, this is the vast dressing room where theft, prostitution and The enduring comedy of murder, whose characters were put on and undressed here in the Middle Ages. It was a vast open space, uneven in shape and paved with uneven stones, like all the squares in Paris in old days.Here and there, fires flickered, and grotesque crowds gathered around them.All of this is flickering and hustle and bustle, only the sound of shrill laughter, the cry of children, and the voice of women can be heard.Against the light, the palms and heads of this group of people were black, showing the silhouettes of thousands of strange movements.On the ground, the flames flickered, covering many indistinct and huge black shadows. From time to time, a dog that was indistinguishable from a human, or a person that was indistinguishable from a dog, could be seen walking past.In this lair, as in the hall of demons, the boundaries of races and species seem to have disappeared.Man, woman, beast, age, sex, health, disease, all seem to be common among the crowd; By the flickering light of the fire, Gringoire, in a state of uncertainty, recognized that this vast open space was surrounded by dilapidated and ugly houses, with moth-eaten, wrinkled, withered, and riddled with holes. There are one or two transparent holes, and he seems to feel that these facades look like many old women's big heads in the dark, arranged in a circle, weird and surly, blinking and watching this group of demons dancing. This seems to be a new world, unknown, unheard of, grotesque, full of reptiles, absurd. Gringoire became more and more alarmed, the three beggars gripped him like three pincers, and he was deafened by a crowd of other faces heaving and barking around him.Gringoire, who had been caught in an accident, tried his best to gather his spirits, and wondered whether it was Saturday or not.But his efforts were in vain, his memory and threads of thought were interrupted; he doubted everything, drifted back and forth between what he saw and felt, and kept asking himself the insoluble problem: "What if I Existence, does all this exist? If all this exists, do I exist?" At this moment, a clear cry sounded from the chaotic crowd all around: "Take him to the king! Take him to the king!" "Holy Mother! The king here must be a he-goat!" murmured Gringoire. "Go up to the king! Go up to the king!" all the people shouted in unison. Everyone came to drag him, scrambling to see who could catch him.But the three beggars would not let go, and snatched him from the hands of the others, shouting, "He belongs to us!" ① In the Middle Ages, Saturday night was the time for wizards and witches to gather. After such a struggle, the already crooked coat on the poet's body would also be a pity. His dizziness vanished in an instant as he crossed the dreadful square.After walking a few steps, he felt himself coming back to reality.He gradually got used to the atmosphere of the place. At first, from his poetic mind, or, simply and plainly, from his empty belly, arose a smoke, a vapor, so to speak; and this vapor spread between him and the object. , so that in the mist of nightmares, in the darkness of dreams, he only glimpsed the objects around him, and all the outlines trembled and all the shapes winked by the hallucination of shadows. , all objects are piled up into a huge group, everything is expanded into a shadowy monster, and everyone is expanded into a ghost. After this hallucination, the eyes gradually become less confused and no longer magnify everything.The real world was gradually forming around him, beating at his eyes, beating at his feet, tearing down piece by piece the whole terrible poetic vision in which he had thought he was trapped.Only then did he realize that he was not wading in the river Styx, but walking in the mud; that it was not the devil that passed him by, but a thief; that it was not his soul that was at stake, but his life (since he lacks that rare intermediary that effectively brings robbers and good guys together: money).In the end, he took a closer look at the carnival and drinking scene more calmly, and couldn't help but plunged straight from the demon society into the tavern. The so-called Palace of Miracles is nothing more than a tavern, but a drinking place for robbers. Everything was stained red with blood and wine. Finally reached the finish line, the group of ragged escorts let him down. At this time, the scene that caught his eyes would not bring him back to the poetic realm, not even the poetic realm in hell!There is a small hotel in front of you. This is a harsh fact that is more obvious than ever.If we lived in the fifteenth century, it would be possible to say that Gringoire tumbled from Michelangelo to Carlo in one fell swoop. On a broad stone slab, a raging fire was burning, and the flames burned the three feet of a three tripod pot that was empty at the moment.A few broken tables were scattered here and there around the fire, and no footman who had any knowledge of geometry would bother to arrange them in two symmetrical and parallel rows, or take care, at least, not to make them overlap. Cut at odd angles.Glittering on the table were jugs overflowing with wine and straw wine, surrounded by the faces of drunken men, all purple from the fire and from drinking too much.There was a man with a big belly and a happy face, who was hugging a plump prostitute and making a lot of loud kisses.There was also a false soldier, a slick, whistling, in their slang, undoing the bandages on the false wounds and stretching his strong thighs, which had been tightly bound up since morning.On the opposite side, a sick ghost was scrubbing the god-given leg with celandine juice and ox blood for the next day.Two tables further on, a robber pretending to be a pilgrim, in the full garb of a pilgrim, was laboriously reciting the Holy Bible, not forgetting, of course, the psalm-singing tune, and not forgetting to hum.In another place a little beggar was seeking advice on faking epilepsy from an old madman, who taught him how to chew soap and foam at the mouth.Next to it, a man suffering from edema was draining fluid to reduce the swelling. Four or five female abductees immediately covered their noses when they heard this.All these scenes, as Sauval said two hundred years later, the court found it very funny, so they moved it for the king's entertainment, and also used it as a four-act ballet "Dark Night" performed by the Royal Ballet on the stage of the Little Bourbon Palace. The song dance.A man who saw the performance in 1653 added: "The sudden transformations at the court of wonders have never been so visibly performed. And Bonsrad has written us long poems of considerable elegance." ① Jacques Carlo (1592-1635), French sculptor and painter.His works often take the life of the lower society as the theme, such as the market, beggars, etc., just in contrast to Michelangelo's (1475-1564) paintings that often take gods and ghosts as the theme. ② Grass ale is a beer-like beverage made from wheat and grass that the ancient Gauls often drank. Wild laughter and lascivious singing resounded everywhere.Everyone only cares about themselves, gossips, swears, and doesn't pay attention to what others are saying.The wine cans collided with each other, but at the same time, there was a quarrel, and the pieces of the broken wine cans scratched the tattered clothes. A large dog was squatting, looking at the fire.A few children also came to join in the fun. The stolen child was crying and making noise.The other, a fat four-year-old boy, sat on a bench that was too high, his legs were dangling, his chin only reached the edge of the table, and he was muffled.Another child, with a serious look, spread the grease from a large candle on the table with his fingers.The last one, a tiny one, was squatting in the mud, almost completely submerged in a cauldron, and was scratching with tiles with a sound that would have made Stradivarius faint. There was a big bucket by the fire, and a beggar sat on the bucket: this is the king Hanako sitting on the throne. The three men who escorted Gringoire led him to the wine barrel. The reveling crowd fell silent for a while, except for the child who was still scratching the cauldron. ① Bonsrad (approximately 1613-1691), a French poet, created a lot of ballets for the courts of Louis XIII and Louis XIV and became famous for a while. ② Stradivarius (about 1644-1737), a famous Italian stringed instrument maker.