For You to Read
属于您的小说阅读网站
巴黎圣母院英文版 - BOOK FIRST CHAPTER IV.MASTER JACQUES COPPENOLE.
繁体
恢复默认
返回目录【键盘操作】左右光标键:上下章节;回车键:目录;双击鼠标:停止/启动自动滚动;滚动时上下光标键调节滚动速度。
  While the pensioner of Ghent and his eminence were exchanging very low bows and a few words in voices still lower, a man of lofty stature, with a large face and broad shoulders, presented himself, in order to enter abreast with Guillaume Rym; one would have pronounced him a bull-dog by the side of a fox.His felt doublet and leather jerkin made a spot on the velvet and silk which surrounded him. presuming that he was some groom who had stolen in, the usher stopped him."Hold, my friend, you cannot pass!"The man in the leather jerkin shouldered him aside."What does this knave want with me?" said he, in stentorian tones, which rendered the entire hall attentive to this strange colloquy."Don't you see that I am one of them?""Your name?" demanded the usher."Jacques Coppenole.""Your titles?""Hosier at the sign of the 'Three Little Chains,' of Ghent."The usher recoiled.One might bring one's self to announce aldermen and burgomasters, but a hosier was too much.The cardinal was on thorns.All the people were staring and listening.For two days his eminence had been exerting his utmost efforts to lick these Flemish bears into shape, and to render them a little more presentable to the public, and this freak was startling.But Guillaume Rym, with his polished smile, approached the usher."Announce Master Jacques Coppenole, clerk of the aldermen of the city of Ghent," he whispered, very low."Usher," interposed the cardinal, aloud, "announce Master Jacques Coppenole, clerk of the aldermen of the illustrious city of Ghent."This was a mistake.Guillaume Rym alone might have conjured away the difficulty, but Coppenole had heard the cardinal."No, cross of God?" he exclaimed, in his voice of thunder, "Jacques Coppenole, hosier.Do you hear, usher?Nothing more, nothing less.Cross of God! hosier; that's fine enough. Monsieur the Archduke has more than once sought his ~gant~* in my hose."*Got the first idea of a timing.Laughter and applause burst forth.A jest is always understood in paris, and, consequently, always applauded.Let us add that Coppenole was of the people, and that the auditors which surrounded him were also of the people.Thus the communication between him and them had been prompt, electric, and, so to speak, on a level.The haughty air of the Flemish hosier, by humiliating the courtiers, had touched in all these plebeian souls that latent sentiment of dignity still vague and indistinct in the fifteenth century.This hosier was an equal, who had just held his own before monsieur the cardinal.A very sweet reflection to poor fellows habituated to respect and obedience towards the underlings of the sergeants of the bailiff of Sainte-Geneviève, the cardinal's train-bearer.Coppenole proudly saluted his eminence, who returned the salute of the all-powerful bourgeois feared by Louis XI. Then, while Guillaume Rym, a "sage and malicious man," as philippe de Comines puts it, watched them both with a smile of raillery and superiority, each sought his place, the cardinal quite abashed and troubled, Coppenole tranquil and haughty, and thinking, no doubt, that his title of hosier was as good as any other, after all, and that Marie of Burgundy, mother to that Marguerite whom Coppenole was to-day bestowing in marriage, would have been less afraid of the cardinal than of the hosier; for it is not a cardinal who would have stirred up a revolt among the men of Ghent against the favorites of the daughter of Charles the Bold; it is not a cardinal who could have fortified the populace with a word against her tears and prayers, when the Maid of Flanders came to supplicate her people in their behalf, even at the very foot of the scaffold; while the hosier had only to raise his leather elbow, in order to cause to fall your two heads, most illustrious seigneurs, Guy d'Hymbercourt and Chancellor Guillaume Hugonet.Nevertheless, all was over for the poor cardinal, and he was obliged to quaff to the dregs the bitter cup of being in such bad company.The reader has, probably, not forgotten the impudent beggar who had been clinging fast to the fringes of the cardinal's gallery ever since the beginning of the prologue.The arrival of the illustrious guests had by no means caused him to relax his hold, and, while the prelates and ambassadors were packing themselves into the stalls--like genuine Flemish herrings--he settled himself at his ease, and boldly crossed his legs on the architrave.The insolence of this proceeding was extraordinary, yet no one noticed it at first, the attention of all being directed elsewhere.He, on his side, perceived nothing that was going on in the hall; he wagged his head with the unconcern of a Neapolitan, repeating from time to time, amid the clamor, as from a mechanical habit, "Charity, please!"And, assuredly, he was, out of all those present, the only one who had not deigned to turn his head at the altercation between Coppenole and the usher.Now, chance ordained that the master hosier of Ghent, with whom the people were already in lively sympathy, and upon whom all eyes were riveted--should come and seat himself in the front row of the gallery, directly above the mendicant; and people were not a little amazed to see the Flemish ambassador, on concluding his inspection of the knave thus placed beneath his eyes, bestow a friendly tap on that ragged shoulder.The beggar turned round; there was surprise, recognition, a lighting up of the two countenances, and so forth; then, without paying the slightest heed in the world to the spectators, the hosier and the wretched being began to converse in a low tone, holding each other's hands, in the meantime, while the rags of Clopin Trouillefou, spread out upon the cloth of gold of the dais, produced the effect of a caterpillar on an orange.The novelty of this singular scene excited such a murmur of mirth and gayety in the hall, that the cardinal was not slow to perceive it; he half bent forward, and, as from the point where he was placed he could catch only an imperfect view of Trouillerfou's ignominious doublet, he very naturally imagined that the mendicant was asking alms, and, disgusted with his audacity, he exclaimed: "Bailiff of the Courts, toss me that knave into the river!""Cross of God! monseigneur the cardinal," said Coppenole, without quitting Clopin's hand, "he's a friend of mine.""Good! good!" shouted the populace.From that moment, Master Coppenole enjoyed in paris as in Ghent, "great favor with the people; for men of that sort do enjoy it," says philippe de Comines, "when they are thus disorderly." The cardinal bit his lips.He bent towards his neighbor, the Abbé of Saint Geneviéve, and said to him in a low tone,--"Fine ambassadors monsieur the archduke sends here, to announce to us Madame Marguerite!""Your eminence," replied the abbé, "wastes your politeness on these Flemish swine.~Margaritas ante porcos~, pearls before swine.""Say rather," retorted the cardinal, with a smile, "~porcos ante Margaritam~, swine before the pearl."The whole little court in cassocks went into ecstacies over this play upon words.The cardinal felt a little relieved; he was quits with Coppenole, he also had had his jest applauded.Now, will those of our readers who possess the power of generalizing an image or an idea, as the expression runs in the style of to-day, permit us to ask them if they have formed a very clear conception of the spectacle presented at this moment, upon which we have arrested their attention, by the vast parallelogram of the grand hall of the palace.In the middle of the hall, backed against the western wall, a large and magnificent gallery draped with cloth of gold, into which enter in procession, through a small, arched door, grave personages, announced successively by the shrill voice of an usher.On the front benches were already a number of venerable figures, muffled in ermine, velvet, and scarlet.Around the dais--which remains silent and dignified--below, opposite, everywhere, a great crowd and a great murmur.Thousands of glances directed by the people on each face upon the dais, a thousand whispers over each name.Certainly, the spectacle is curious, and well deserves the attention of the spectators.But yonder, quite at the end, what is that sort of trestle work with four motley puppets upon it, and more below?Who is that man beside the trestle, with a black doublet and a pale face?Alas! my dear reader, it is pierre Gringoire and his prologue.We have all forgotten him completely.This is precisely what he feared.From the moment of the cardinal's entrance, Gringoire had never ceased to tremble for the safety of his prologue.At first he had enjoined the actors, who had stopped in suspense, to continue, and to raise their voices; then, perceiving that no one was listening, he had stopped them; and, during the entire quarter of an hour that the interruption lasted, he had not ceased to stamp, to flounce about, to appeal to Gisquette and Liénarde, and to urge his neighbors to the continuance of the prologue; all in vain.No one quitted the cardinal, the embassy, and the gallery--sole centre of this vast circle of visual rays.We must also believe, and we say it with regret, that the prologue had begun slightly to weary the audience at the moment when his eminence had arrived, and created a diversion in so terrible a fashion.After all, on the gallery as well as on the marble table, the spectacle was the same: the conflict of Labor and Clergy, of Nobility and Merchandise.And many people preferred to see them alive, breathing, moving, elbowing each other in flesh and blood, in this Flemish embassy, in this Episcopal court, under the cardinal's robe, under Coppenole's jerkin, than painted, decked out, talking in verse, and, so to speak, stuffed beneath the yellow amid white tunics in which Gringoire had so ridiculously clothed them.Nevertheless, when our poet beheld quiet reestablished to some extent, he devised a stratagem which might have redeemed all."Monsieur," he said, turning towards one of his neighbors, a fine, big man, with a patient face, "suppose we begin again.""What?" said his neighbor."Hé! the Mystery," said Gringoire."As you like," returned his neighbor.This semi-approbation sufficed for Gringoire, and, conducting his own affairs, he began to shout, confounding himself with the crowd as much as possible: "Begin the mystery again! begin again!""The devil!" said Joannes de Molendino, "what are they jabbering down yonder, at the end of the hall?" (for Gringoire was making noise enough for four.)"Say, comrades, isn't that mystery finished?They want to begin it all over again.That's not fair!""No, no!" shouted all the scholars."Down with the mystery!Down with it!"But Gringoire had multiplied himself, and only shouted the more vigorously: "Begin again! begin again!"These clamors attracted the attention of the cardinal."Monsieur Bailiff of the Courts," said he to a tall, black man, placed a few paces from him, "are those knaves in a holy-water vessel, that they make such a hellish noise?"The bailiff of the courts was a sort of amphibious magistrate, a sort of bat of the judicial order, related to both the rat and the bird, the judge and the soldier.He approached his eminence, and not without a good deal of fear of the latter's displeasure, he awkwardly explained to him the seeming disrespect of the audience: that noonday had arrived before his eminence, and that the comedians had been forced to begin without waiting for his eminence.The cardinal burst into a laugh."On my faith, the rector of the university ought to have done the same.What say you, Master Guillaume Rym?""Monseigneur," replied Guillaume Rym, "let us be content with having escaped half of the comedy.There is at least that much gained.""Can these rascals continue their farce?" asked the bailiff."Continue, continue," said the cardinal, "it's all the same to me.I'll read my breviary in the meantime."The bailiff advanced to the edge of the estrade, and cried, after having invoked silence by a wave of the hand,--"Bourgeois, rustics, and citizens, in order to satisfy those who wish the play to begin again, and those who wish it to end, his eminence orders that it be continued."Both parties were forced to resign themselves.But the public and the author long cherished a grudge against the cardinal.So the personages on the stage took up their parts, and Gringoire hoped that the rest of his work, at least, would be listened to.This hope was speedily dispelled like his other illusions; silence had indeed, been restored in the audience, after a fashion; but Gringoire had not observed that at the moment when the cardinal gave the order to continue, the gallery was far from full, and that after the Flemish envoys there had arrived new personages forming part of the cortege, whose names and ranks, shouted out in the midst of his dialogue by the intermittent cry of the usher, produced considerable ravages in it.Let the reader imagine the effect in the midst of a theatrical piece, of the yelping of an usher, flinging in between two rhymes, and often in the middle of a line, parentheses like the following,--"Master Jacques Charmolue, procurator to the king in the Ecclesiastical Courts!""Jehan de Harlay, equerry guardian of the office of chevalier of the night watch of the city of paris!""Messire Galiot de Genoilhac, chevalier, seigneur de Brussac, master of the king's artillery!""Master Dreux-Raguier, surveyor of the woods and forests of the king our sovereign, in the land of France, Champagne and Brie!""Messire Louis de Graville, chevalier, councillor, and chamberlain of the king, admiral of France, keeper of the Forest of Vincennes!""Master Denis le Mercier, guardian of the house of the blind at paris!" etc., etc., etc.This was becoming unbearable.This strange accompaniment, which rendered it difficult to follow the piece, made Gringoire all the more indignant because he could not conceal from himself the fact that the interest was continually increasing, and that all his work required was a chance of being heard.It was, in fact, difficult to imagine a more ingenious and more dramatic composition.The four personages of the prologue were bewailing themselves in their mortal embarrassment, when Venus in person, (~vera incessa patuit dea~) presented herself to them, clad in a fine robe bearing the heraldic device of the ship of the city of paris.She had come herself to claim the dolphin promised to the most beautiful.Jupiter, whose thunder could be heard rumbling in the dressing-room, supported her claim, and Venus was on the point of carrying it off,--that is to say, without allegory, of marrying monsieur the dauphin, when a young child clad in white damask, and holding in her hand a daisy (a transparent personification of Mademoiselle Marguerite of Flanders) came to contest it with Venus.Theatrical effect and change.After a dispute, Venus, Marguerite, and the assistants agreed to submit to the good judgment of time holy Virgin. There was another good part, that of the king of Mesopotamia; but through so many interruptions, it was difficult to make out what end he served.All these persons had ascended by the ladder to the stage.But all was over; none of these beauties had been felt nor understood.On the entrance of the cardinal, one would have said that an invisible magic thread had suddenly drawn all glances from the marble table to the gallery, from the southern to the western extremity of the hall.Nothing could disenchant the audience; all eyes remained fixed there, and the new-comers and their accursed names, and their faces, and their costumes, afforded a continual diversion.This was very distressing.With the exception of Gisquette and Liénarde, who turned round from time to time when Gringoire plucked them by the sleeve; with the exception of the big, patient neighbor, no one listened, no one looked at the poor, deserted morality full face.Gringoire saw only profiles.With what bitterness did he behold his whole erection of glory and of poetry crumble away bit by bit!And to think that these people had been upon the point of instituting a revolt against the bailiff through impatience to hear his work! now that they had it they did not care for it.This same representation which had been begun amid so unanimous an acclamation!Eternal flood and ebb of popular favor!To think that they had been on the point of hanging the bailiff's sergeant!What would he not have given to be still at that hour of honey!But the usher's brutal monologue came to an end; every one had arrived, and Gringoire breathed freely once more; the actors continued bravely.But Master Coppenole, the hosier, must needs rise of a sudden, and Gringoire was forced to listen to him deliver, amid universal attention, the following abominable harangue."Messieurs the bourgeois and squires of paris, I don't know, cross of God! what we are doing here.I certainly do see yonder in the corner on that stage, some people who appear to be fighting.I don't know whether that is what you call a "mystery," but it is not amusing; they quarrel with their tongues and nothing more.I have been waiting for the first blow this quarter of an hour; nothing comes; they are cowards who only scratch each other with insults.You ought to send for the fighters of London or Rotterdam; and, I can tell you! you would have had blows of the fist that could be heard in the place; but these men excite our pity.They ought at least, to give us a moorish dance, or some other mummer!That is not what was told me; I was promised a feast of fools, with the election of a pope.We have our pope of fools at Ghent also; we're not behindhand in that, cross of God!But this is the way we manage it; we collect a crowd like this one here, then each person in turn passes his head through a hole, and makes a grimace at the rest; time one who makes the ugliest, is elected pope by general acclamation; that's the way it is.It is very diverting.Would you like to make your pope after the fashion of my country?At all events, it will be less wearisome than to listen to chatterers. If they wish to come and make their grimaces through the hole, they can join the game.What say you, Messieurs les bourgeois?You have here enough grotesque specimens of both sexes, to allow of laughing in Flemish fashion, and there are enough of us ugly in countenance to hope for a fine grinning match."Gringoire would have liked to retort; stupefaction, rage, indignation, deprived him of words.Moreover, the suggestion of the popular hosier was received with such enthusiasm by these bourgeois who were flattered at being called "squires," that all resistance was useless.There was nothing to be done but to allow one's self to drift with the torrent. Gringoire hid his face between his two hands, not being so fortunate as to have a mantle with which to veil his head, like Agamemnon of Timantis.
或许您还会喜欢:
将军的女儿
作者:佚名
章节:37 人气:2
摘要:“这个座位有人吗?”我向独自坐在酒吧休息室里的那位年轻而有魅力的女士问道。她正在看报,抬头看了我一眼,但没有回答。我在她对面坐了下来,把我的啤酒放在两人之间的桌子上。她又看起报来,并慢慢喝着波旁威士忌①和可口可乐混合的饮料。我又问她:“你经常来这儿吗?”①这是原产于美国肯塔基州波旁的一种主要用玉米酿制的威士忌酒。“走开。”“你的暗号是什么?”“别捣乱。”“我好像在什么地方见过你。”“没有。 [点击阅读]
局外人
作者:佚名
章节:28 人气:2
摘要:人道主义思想加缪的思想,其核心就是人道主义,人的尊严问题,一直是缠绕着他的创作、生活和政治斗争的根本问题。《西西弗斯神话》和《局外人》构成了加缪文学创作的母题,包含着加缪未来作品的核心问题。书中,西西弗斯的幸福假设的提出,其本质动机,不在荒诞,荒诞既不能告诉我们幸福,也不能告诉我们不幸,之所以加缪假设西西弗斯是幸福的,是因为他认为只有幸福的生活才符合人的尊严,被责为永罚,却幸福,这绝对是一种反抗, [点击阅读]
广岛之恋
作者:佚名
章节:11 人气:2
摘要:一九五七年夏天,八月,广岛。一个三十岁左右的法国女子在这座城市里。她是来参加拍摄一部关于和平的影片,她在影片中扮演一个角色。故事发生在这个法国女人回国的前夕。她在其中扮演角色的这部影片实际上已近完成。只剩下一组镜头要拍摄。就在她回法国的前夕,这个在影片中始终未提及名字的法国女人——这个无名妇女——将遇到一个日本人(工程师或建筑师),他们之间产生了一段过眼云烟的恋情。 [点击阅读]
怪钟
作者:佚名
章节:30 人气:2
摘要:九月九日的下午,一如平常的下午,没有两样。任何人对于那天即将发生的不幸,毫无一丝预感。(除了一人例外,那就是住在威尔布朗姆胡同四十七号的巴克太太,她对于预感特别有一套,每次她心头觉得一阵怪异之后,总要将那种不安的感觉,详详细细地描述一番。但是巴克太太住在四十七号,离开十九号甚远,那儿会发生什么事,与她无干,所以她觉得似乎没有必要去做什么预感)。“加文狄希秘书打字社”社长K-玛汀戴小姐。 [点击阅读]
星球大战前传2:克隆人的进攻
作者:佚名
章节:26 人气:2
摘要:他沉浸在眼前的场景中。一切都那么宁静,那么安谧,又那么……平常。这才是他一直盼望的生活,亲朋好友团聚——他深信,眼前正是那幅画面,尽管惟一能认出的面孔是疼爱自己的母亲。生活本该如此:充满温馨、亲情、欢笑、恬静。这是他魂牵梦索的生活,是他无时无刻不在祈盼的生活:体味暖人的笑容,分享惬意的交谈,轻拍亲人的肩头。但最令他神往的是母亲脸上绽出的微笑。此时此刻,他深爱着的母亲无比幸福,她已不再是奴隶。 [点击阅读]
暮光之城2:新月
作者:佚名
章节:25 人气:2
摘要:我百分之九十九点九地确定我是在做梦。我之所以如此确信的理由是:第一,我正站在一束明亮的阳光下——那种令人目眩的,明净的太阳从未照耀在我的新家乡——华盛顿州的福克斯镇上,这里常年笼罩在如烟似雾的绵绵细雨之中;第二,我正注视着玛丽祖母,奶奶至今去世已经有六年多了,因此,这一确凿的证据足以证明我是在做梦。奶奶没有发生很大的变化;她的脸庞还是我记忆中的模样。 [点击阅读]
暮光之城4:破晓
作者:佚名
章节:41 人气:2
摘要:童年不是从出生到某一个年龄为止;也不是某一个特定的年纪孩子长大了,抛开幼稚童年的国度里,没有人会死去EdnaSt.VincentMillay前言我拥有比一般人多得多的濒临死亡的经历;这并不是一件你真正会习惯的事。这似乎有些奇怪,我又一次不可避免地面对着死亡。好像注定逃不开这一宿命,每一次我都成功逃开了,但是它又一次次地回到我身边。然而,这一次的似乎与众不同。 [点击阅读]
最后的星期集
作者:佚名
章节:7 人气:2
摘要:我完整地得到了你我深知你已经属于我,我从未想到应该确定你赠予的价值。你也不提这样的要求。日复一日,夜复一夜,你倒空你的花篮,我瞟一眼,随手扔进库房,次日没有一点儿印象。你的赠予融和着新春枝叶的嫩绿和秋夜圆月的清辉。你以黑发的水浪淹没我的双足,你说:“我的赠予不足以纳你王国的赋税,贫女子我再无可赠的东西。”说话间,泪水模糊了你的明眸。 [点击阅读]
沉思录
作者:佚名
章节:13 人气:2
摘要:一本写给自己的书──《沉思录》译者前言斯多亚派着名哲学家、古罗马帝国皇帝马可.奥勒留.安东尼(公元121-180),原名马可.阿尼厄斯.维勒斯,生于罗马,其父亲一族曾是西班牙人,但早已定居罗马多年,并从维斯佩申皇帝(69-79年在位)那里获得了贵族身份。 [点击阅读]
火车
作者:佚名
章节:29 人气:2
摘要:冒着火的车子,用来载生前做过恶事的亡灵前往地狱。电车离开绫濑车站时才开始下的雨,半是冰冻的寒雨。怪不得一早起来左膝盖就疼得难受。本间俊介走到第一节车厢中间,右手抓着扶手,左手撑着收起来的雨伞,站在靠门的位置上。尖锐的伞头抵着地板,权充拐杖。他眺望着车窗外。平常日子的下午三点,常磐线的车厢内很空,若想坐下,空位倒是很多。 [点击阅读]