【经典名著阅读】《红字》第十一章（下）
Chapter 11 THE INTERIOR OF A HEART第十一章 内心
It is inconceivable, the agony with which this public veneration tortured him! It was his genuine impulse to adore the truth, and to reckon all things shadow-like, and utterly devoid of weight or value, that had not its divine essence as the life within their life. Then, what was he?- a substance?- or the dimmest of all shadows?He longed to speak out, from his own pulpit, at the full height of his voice, and tell the people what he was. "I, whom you behold in these black garments of the priesthood- I, who ascend the sacred desk, and turn my pale face heavenward, taking upon myself to hold communion, in your behalf, with the Most High Omniscience- I, in whose daily life you discern the sanctity of Enoch- I, whose footsteps, as you suppose, leave a gleam along my earthly track, whereby the pilgrims that shall come after me may be guided to the regions of the blest- I, who have laid the hand of baptism upon your children- I, who have breathed the parting prayer over your dying friends, to whom the Amen sounded faintly from a world which they had quitted- I, your pastor, whom you so reverence and trust, am utterly a pollution and a lie!"公众对他的景仰是如何折磨着他，那痛苦是难以想见的！他的真诚的冲动就在于崇尚真理，并把缺乏以神圣本质为其生命的一切生物，视为阴影，从而否定其份量或价值。如此说来，他自己又是什么呢？是一种实体呢，抑或只是所有阴影中最昏暗的一个？他渴望从他自己的布道坛上，用最高亢的声音说话，告诉大家他是什么。“我，你们目睹身着牧师黑袍的这个人；我，登上神圣的讲坛，将苍白的面孔仰望上天，负责为你们向至高无上的、无所不知的上帝传达感情的人；我，你们将其日常生活视如以诺③般圣洁的人；我，你们以为在其人间旅途上踏—下的印痕会放出光明，指引朝圣者能随之步入天国的人；我，亲手为你们的孩子施洗的人；我，为你们弥留的朋友们诵念临终祈祷，让他们隐隐听到从已经告别的世上传来“阿门”之声的人；我，你们如此敬仰和信赖的牧师，却是一团污浊，一个骗子！”
More than once, Mr. Dimmesdale had gone into the pulpit, with a purpose never to come down its steps, until he should have spoken words like the above. More than once, he had cleared his throat, and drawn in the long, deep, and tremulous breath, which, when sent forth again, would come burdened with the black secret of his soul. More than once- nay, more than a hundred times- he had actually spoken! Spoken! But how? He had told his hearers that he was altogether vile, a viler companion of the vilest, the worst of sinners, an abomination, a thing of unimaginable iniquity; and that the only wonder was, that they did not see his wretched body shrivelled up before their eyes, by the burning wrath of the Almighty! Could there be plainer speech than this? Would not the people start up in their seats, by a simultaneous impulse, and tear him down out of the pulpit which he defiled? Not so, indeed! They heard it all, and did but reverence him the more. They little guessed what deadly purport lurked in those self-condemning words. "The godly youth!" said they among themselves. "The saint on earth! Alas, if he discern such sinfulness in his own white soul, what horrid spectacle would he behold in thine or mine!" The minister well knew- subtle, but remorseless hypocrite that he was!- the light in which his vague confession would be viewed. He had striven to put a cheat upon himself by making the avowal of a guilty conscience, but had gained only one other sin, and a self-acknowledged shame, without the momentary relief of being self-deceived. He had spoken the very truth, and transformed it into the veriest falsehood. And yet, by the constitution of his nature, he loved the truth, and loathed the lie, as few men ever did. Therefore, above all things else, he loathed his miserable self!丁梅斯代尔先生不止一次在登上布道坛时打定主意，不把上述这番话说出来，就不再走下来。他不止一次清好喉咙，颤抖着深吸一口长气，准备在再度吐气的同时，把他灵魂深处的阴暗秘密装上，一吐为快。他不止一次——应该说不止上百次——已经实际上这样说了！说出来了！可是又如何呢？他一再告诉他的听众，他是个彻头彻尾的卑鄙小人，是最卑鄙的人当中尤为卑鄙的一个伙伴，是最恶劣的一个罪人，一个令人憎恶的货色，是一个难以想象的邪恶之物；而唯一奇怪的是：他们竟然看不见，他那肮脏的肉体已经被全能的上帝的怒火所焚，在他们的眼前枯萎了！难道还能有比这番话说得更明白的吗？人们难道不该在一时冲动中从座位上站起身来，把他从被他玷污的布道坛上抓下来吗？没关系出现过这种事，当真没有！他们全都听进了耳朵，但他们都对他益发敬重。他们绝少去猜疑，在他那番自我谴责的言辞中潜藏着多么殊死的涵义。“这位神圣的青年！”他们彼此喁喁私语。“这位人间的圣者！天哪！既然他在自己洁白的灵魂中都能觉察出这样的罪孽，那他在你我心中又会看到多么骇人的样子呢！”牧师深知这一切——他是一个多么难以捉摸又懊悔不迭的伪君子啊！——他深知他那含糊其词的仟悔在人们心目中是一种什么反映。他竭力想把自己负罪的良心公之于众来自欺，但赢得的却仅仅是另一种罪孽，以及自知之耻，面毫无片刻的自欺之宁。他说的本来都是真情实话，结果却变成了弥天大谎。然而，他天生热爱真理，厌恶谎言，为旁人所不及。因此，他厌恶不幸的自我尤胜其它！
His inward trouble drove him to practices more in accordance with the old, corrupted faith of Rome, than with the better light of the Church in which he had been born and bred. In Mr. Dimmesdale's secret closet, under lock and key, there was a bloody scourge. Oftentimes, this Protestant and Puritan divine had plied it on his own shoulders; laughing bitterly at himself the while, and smiting so much the more pitilessly because of that bitter laugh. It was his custom, too, as it has been that of many other pious Puritans, to fast- not, however, like them, in order to purify the body and render it the fitter medium of celestial illumination, but rigorously, and until his knees trembled beneath him, as an act of penance. He kept vigils, likewise, night after night, sometimes in utter darkness; sometimes with a glimmering lamp; and sometimes, viewing his own face in a looking-glass, by the most powerful light which he could throw upon it. He thus typified the constant introspection wherewith he tortured, but could not purify, himself. In these lengthened vigils, his brain often reeled, and visions seemed to flit before him; perhaps seen doubtfully, and by a faint light of their own, in the remote dimness of the chamber, or more vividly, and close beside him, within the looking-glass. Now it was a herd of diabolic shapes, that grinned and mocked at the pale minister, and beckoned him away with them; now a group of shining angels, who flew upward heavily, as sorrow-laden, but grew more ethereal as they rose. Now came the dead friends of his youth, and his white-bearded father, with a saint-like frown, and his mother, turning her face away as she passed by. Ghost of a mother- thinnest fantasy of a mother- methinks she might yet have thrown a pitying glance towards her son! And now, through the chamber which these spectral thoughts had made so ghastly, glided Hester Prynne, leading along little Pearl, in her scarlet garb, and pointing her forefinger, first at the scarlet letter on her bosom, and then at the clergyman's own breast.他内心的烦恼，驱使着他的行动坐卧与古老腐败的罗马天主教的信条暗相啮合，反倒背离了自他生来便哺育他的新教的较好的灵光。在丁梅斯代尔先生深锁的密室中，有一条血淋淋的刑鞭。这位新教和清教的牧师，时常一边对自己苦笑，一边鞭打自己的肩膀，而随着那苦笑，就鞭打得更加无情。他也象许多别的虔诚的清教徒一样，有斋戒的习惯——不过，别人斋戒是为了净化肉体，使之更适合于天光照耀，他的斋戒则不同，他严格地当作一种自我惩罚，直到双膝在下面颤抖为止。他还彻夜不眠地祈祷，一夜接着一夜，有时在一片漆黑之中，有时只伴着一盏昏灯，有时则在脸上照着最强的光线面对一面镜子。他就这样不断地自省，其实只是在自我折磨，丝毫得不到自我净化。在长夜不眠的祈祷之中，他的头脑时常晕眩，似乎有许多幻象在他眼前飞舞；这些幻象有时在内室的昏暗中自身发着微光，看着似有似无，有时则出现在镜子之中，近在咫尺，显得更清晰些。这些幻象时而是一群凶暴的恶魔，对着这位牧师狞笑嘲弄，呼唤他随他们而去；时而是一伙闪光的天使，象是满载哀伤的重荷，沉重地向上飞去，但随着越飞越高，而变得轻灵起来；时而又来了他年轻时那些夭折的朋友，还有他那面带圣者般的蹙容、须发花白的父亲，以及在走过时却扭转面孔不理睬他的母亲。在我看来，一个母亲的幽灵——一个母亲的最淡漠的幻影——也会对她儿子投以怜悯的目光吧！随之，在被这些光怪陆离的奇思异想弄得十分阴森可怖的内室中，海丝特·白兰领着身穿猩红袍服的珠儿飘然而过，那孩子伸出食指，先指指母亲胸前的红字，然后又指指牧师本人的胸膛。
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