主题：Andrew Marr：我们英国人——英国诗歌文学简史 -- 万年看客

威廉.布莱克的确是扭转十八世纪英国诗歌发展路线的伟大革命艺术家之一，但是像他一样满腔怒火的诗人还有很多。这些人或许比布莱克更传统，但是笔锋却与他一样直接，比方说以“彼得.品达”为笔名，生性好斗且下巴硕大的讽刺诗人约翰.威尔科特。在他的《皇家巡游》（The Royal Tour）一诗中，威尔科特毫不留情地描绘了乔治三世国王的丑态，就连国王的口吃毛病都没放过。在维茅斯的海滨，国王与王后遇到了一位没有腿的乞丐，此人曾经是皇家海军的一名水手：

A Sailor pops upon the Royal Pair,

On crutches borne, an object of despair :

His squalid beard, pale cheek, and haggard eye,

Though silent, pour for help a piercing cry.

一名水手在御驾面前露头，

腋下夹着双拐，满脸尽是哀愁：

胡子肮脏，脸颊苍白，眼窝深陷，

虽然沉默，却在将求救声尖利呼唤。

“Who, who are you? What, what? hae, what are you?”

"A man, my Liege, whom kindness never knew."

"A sailor, sailor, hae? you've lost a leg."

"I know it, Sire; which forces me to beg.

I've nine poor children, Sir, besides a wife ;

God bless them ! the sole comforts of my life."

“你、你、你是谁？想、想、想干什么？”

“是个苦命人，陛下，人间的善意我从没尝过。”

“你是个水、水、水手？哈？看你少了腿脚。”

“诚然如此，陛下，因此我只得上街乞讨。

我有九个子女，陛下，还有一个老婆；

上帝保佑他们！离了他们我也不想活。”

“Wife and nine children, hae? all, all alive?

No, no, no wonder that you cannot thrive.

Shame, shame, to fill your hut with such a train!

Shame to get brats for others to maintain!

Get, get a wooden leg, or one of cork:

Wood's cheapest; yes, get wood, and go to work.

But mind, mind, Sailor; hae, hae, he? hear, hear :

Don't go to Windsor, mind, and cut one there:

That's dangerous, dangerous ; there I place my traps ;

Fine things, fine things, for legs of thieoing chaps.

Best traps, my traps: take care; they bite, they bite,

And sometimes catch a doxen legs a night.”

“一个老婆九个娃？哈？还都、都、都活着？

难、难、难怪你这日子没法过。

丢、丢、丢人啊，生这么多还不是你的错！

自己下的崽还好意思让别人去养活！

找，找，找条木腿，软木就不错，

那玩意最便宜；然后赶紧去工作。

但是小、小、小心点水手，你可要踢、踢、踢——听好：

可别去温莎森林将木材寻找。

那里危、危、危险，我将捕兽夹布置在林地，

专攻窃贼的双腿，多么精、精、精密。

最好的夹子，我的夹子；它们满嘴尖、尖、尖牙，

有时一晚上就能把十几条腿留下。”

水手解释道自己身无分文，买不起假肢，而且他是在忠君卫国的战场上丢掉了腿，但是国王对此无动于衷：

“How, Sailor, did you lose your leg? hae, hae?"

“I lost it, please your Majesty, at sea,

Hard fighting for my Country and my King.”

“Hae, what? that's comon, very common thing.

Hae! lucky fellow, that you were not drill'd:

Some lose their heads, and many men are kill'd.

......

Must not encourage vagrants; no, no, no :

Must not make laws, my lad, and break 'em too.

Where, where's your parish, hae ? and where's your pass?

Well, make haste home: I've got, I've got no brass.”

“水手，你如何丢了腿？咦？咦？”

“我这条腿是为了报效君王，在海上失去，

为了国家与国王，我也曾英勇奋战。”

“哦，然后呢？这事又不算稀、稀、稀罕。

哈，你运气不错，不要太不知足：

多少人丢了性命，多少人掉了头颅。

……

不能纵容流浪汉，不，不，不。

既然制定了法律，就不能不管不顾。

你的教区在哪里？啊？你从哪里来？

立刻回家去；别找我施、施、施舍钱财。”

这段诗文的犀利程度足以与二十世纪的任何反战诗歌相提并论，也比今天的当代诗歌更加大胆露骨。但是即便像威尔科特这样的激进派也越发不乐意在明面上支持海峡对面法国大革命的恐怖局面。他在《断头台礼赞》（Hymn To The Guillotine）一诗当中反话正说地表明了自己的立场：

Daughter of Liberty! whose knife

So busy chops the threads of life,

And frees from cumbrous clay the spirit;

Ah! why alone shall Gallia feel

The beauties of thy pond'rous steel?

Why must not Britain mark thy merit?

自由的女儿！你手提宝剑

终日忙着将生命的线绳斩断，

让精神从肉体泥胎当中解脱，

为何只有高卢才有幸领教

你的千钧钢刀多么美妙？

英国为什么不能把你的事迹述说？

Hark! 'tis the dungeon's groan I hear;

And lo, a squalid band appear,

With sallow cheek, and hollow eye!

Unwilling, lo, the neck they bend;

Yet, through thy pow'r, their terrors end,

And with their heads the sorrows fly.

听！地牢里传来阵阵呻吟；

看！肮脏的死囚列队走出牢门，

看他们两腮蜡黄，眼窝深陷！

他们不情不愿，只顾低头看地，

你的力量即将终结他们的恐惧，

让他们与脑袋和忧愁说再见。

O let us view thy lofty grace;

To Britons shew thy blushing face,

And bless Rebellion's life-tir'd train!

Joy to my soul! she's on her way,

Led by her dearest friends, Dismay,

Death, and the Devil, and Tom Paine!

啊，请让我们一睹你的万丈光芒；

向英国人彰显你的鲜红面庞，

祝福叛逆者的厌世列阵！

我灵魂的喜乐！她正在往英国赶，

头前开路的是她的挚友凄惨，

死亡，魔鬼，还有托马斯.潘恩！

潘恩与威廉.布莱克其实颇有私交，而且也受到了英国激进派的广泛追捧。他的思想与著作成为了美国与法国两场大革命的催化剂，也被许多穷极思变的英国人视为至宝。约瑟夫.马瑟是一名谢菲尔德的产业工人，生在声名悦耳的吐泻巷。他是一名卫理会信徒，平日爱好作词谱曲。此人将《天佑吾王》的歌词加以修改，当成了献给潘恩的赞歌：

God save great Thomas Paine,

His ‘Rights of Man’ explain

To every soul.

He makes the blind to see

What dupes and slaves they be,

And points out liberty,

From pole to pole.

天佑托马斯.潘恩，

天赋人权令人

心明眼亮。

他让盲人看见

他们为奴受骗，

要让自由传遍

大地四方。

Thousands cry ‘Church and King’

That well deserve to swing,

All must allow:

Birmingham blush for shame,

Manchester do the same,

Infamous is your name,

Patriots vow.

说甚“教会君王”

话说得多漂亮，

活该嫌弃：

伯明翰无地自容，

曼彻斯特脸通红，

你的称号恶名隆：

爱国主义。

Pull proud oppressors down,

Knock off each tyrant's crown,

And break his sword;

Down aristocracy,

Set up democracy,

And from hyprocrisy

Save us good Lord.

压迫者要打倒，

暴君王冠敲掉，

宝剑折断；

要推翻大贵族，

建立民主制度，

驱散虚伪迷雾，

上帝明鉴。

Why should despotic pride

Usurp on every side?

Let us be free:

Grant Freedom's arms success,

And all her efforts bless,

Plant through the universe

Liberty's Tree.

骄傲暴君因何

四处布下网罗？

莫受束缚：

愿自由常得胜，

凡事都能成功，

普天下尽栽种

自由之树。

Facts are seditious things

When they touch courts and kings,

Armies are raised,

Barracks and bastilles built,

Innocence charged with guilt,

Blood most unjustly spilt,

Gods stand amazed.

事实多么可怕，

君王一旦觉察，

燃起烽烟，

建工事把营扎，

无辜者被残杀，

不义鲜血泼洒，

害理伤天。

Despots may howl and yell,

Though they're in league with hell

They'll not reign long;

Satan may lead the van,

And do the worst he can,

Paine and his ‘Rights of Man’

Shall be my song.

暴君歇斯底里，

早晚要下地狱，

统治不长；

纵然魔鬼在前，

将恶事都干完，

潘恩与“天赋人权”

我定弘扬。

身为产业工人的马瑟亲眼见证了工业革命早期阶段怎样用人命换发展，因此很有理由怒火中烧。他的另一首反自然诗歌直接将自己的家乡称作“乌黑的谢菲尔德”：

Where slowly down the vale a river runs,

Of dark complexion like its crooked sons;

In a fair country, stands a filthy town,

By bugs and butchers held in high renown;

Sheffield the Black - in ugliness supreme;

Yet ugly Sheffield is my dirty theme.

一条河流在山谷里流淌缓慢，

比起曲折支流脸色同样黑暗；

这国家虽美，这城镇却稀烂，

虫子与屠夫都将这里交口称赞；

乌黑的谢菲尔德——丑陋天下无双，

特此献上脏歌一曲，为了丑陋的家乡。

Ah, luckless he, who in unhappy hour

Is doomed to walk our streets beneath the shower,

No friendly spout from the projecting paves,

The copious tribute of the clouds receives,

But headlong from the roof, in sooty showers,

Prone on the hapless passenger it pours.

While on our moonless evenings, dark and damp,

Imprudent thrift denies the public lamp

And many a dunghill graces many a street.

倒霉的家伙，实在太不幸，

要在雨中的本地街道行进。

突出的屋檐，汇聚恶意的水柱，

来自漫天乌云的慷慨礼物，

裹挟着屋顶上的层层煤灰

灌注在行人头顶，多么悲催。

没有月亮的夜晚又黑又潮，

节俭的当局不肯将路灯点着，

多少粪堆点缀在多少街头。

Whole streams of rubbish and whole seas of mud;

With turnip tops, potato peelings join,

And to their cast garments, peas and beans combine,

Providing pigs and ducks with goodly cheer;

To pigs and ducks our streets are ever dear,

May no audacious scavenger presume to wield the rake, the shovel or the broom

河一样的垃圾，海一样的烂泥，

撒一层芜菁叶子，加一把土豆皮。

大豆小豆的豆荚也赶来搅局。

猪猡与鸭子都觉得这些街道很好，

猪猡与鸭子都能在街头吃饱。

惟愿没有莽撞的拾荒者前来挥耙抡铲使扫帚。

今天的读者往往更习惯借助狄更斯、恩格斯以及其他维多利亚时代作家的视角来观察英国工业革命早期的人间地狱，但是这幅地狱惨状早在十八世纪末就已经有目共睹了。鞋匠兼教师詹姆斯.伍德豪斯在《科里品纳斯.斯克里布勒斯的生平与钻研》（The Life and Lucubrations of Crispinus Scriblerus）当中对于伯明翰与胡弗汉顿描写就十分栩栩如生：

IN parts, through prospects scattered far and near,

Pale-glowing gleams and fickering flames appear,

Like new volcanoes mid deep darkness nursed,

From cooking coals in ruddy brilliance burst;

While smoky curls in thickening columns rise,

Obscure the landscapes and involve the skies.

Still, as the sanguine blaze, beneath, ascends,

And deepening blushes with heav'n's vapours blends,

Diffusing all around red, lurid light,

And paint in part the negro-cheeks of Night,

Deep, sullen sounds through all the region roll,

Shocking with groans and sighs each shuddering soul!

放眼看去，在或远或近的各处场所

全都是苍白的微光与跳动的炉火，

恰似新生的火山在黑暗深处蕴藏，

生火做饭的煤块发出赤红的光芒；

浓密的烟柱蜿蜒着向上攀升，

模糊了地面景色，遮蔽了天空。

血色的火光从下向上升起，

滚滚浓烟与云朵混在一起，

反射了落日的艳红光芒，

照亮了夜幕的黑色脸庞。

深沉阴郁的声音传遍了这片土地，

多少颤抖的灵魂正在唉声叹气！

像这样描写城市景物的文字在当时并不少见，不过接下来伍德豪斯还进一步绘声绘色地描写了蒸汽机运作的场景：

Here clanking engines vomit scalding streams,

And belch vast volumes of attendant steams,

There thundering forges, with pulsations loud

Alternate striking, pierce the pendant cloud;

While to these distant hills, respiring slow,

Furnaces' iron lungs loud-breathing blow,

Breaking abrupt on Superstition's ear,

And shrink the shuddering frame with shivering fear:

Obtruding on the heart, each heaving breath,

Some vengeful fiend, grim delegate of Death!

铿锵的蒸汽机呕吐出滚烫水流，

打个饱嗝又喷出大团白雾浓稠，

雷鸣般的锤炼，悸动的震耳欲聋，

此起彼伏的锻打声刺破头顶云层；

在遥远的群山间，缓慢的喘息，

熔炉的铁肺响亮地吸气呼气。

骤然发作的声响，迷信的耳朵不得不听，

吓得他们蜷缩颤抖，止不住胆战心惊。

侵入他们的心房，每一声粗重的喘息，

恶毒的恶魔，死亡的铁面先驱！

以上诗文或许并不算多么精致优美，但是倘若没有这些来自工业革命第一线的报道，我们很难充分理解威廉.布莱克究竟在反对什么。当然，并非每一位新兴工业城市的居民都对工业化感到骇然，许多人都创作了颂扬工业化的作品。詹姆斯.比塞特来自苏格兰的珀斯，十三岁那年来到伯明翰，成为了一名搪瓷制品画师。他挣了不少钱，多年后买下了一栋大屋，还开设了伯明翰第一座美术馆。他的长诗《众神游历伯明翰》（Ramble of the Gods Through Birmingham）极力铺陈了这座城市的活力与财富：

THEY visited our WHARFS, and, wond' ring, found

Some thousand tons of COAL piled on the ground,

And scores of boats, in length full sixty feet,

With loads of mineral fuel, quite replete;

Whilst carts, and country wagons, fill'd each space,

And loaded teams stood rang' d around the place.

The GODS behold the whole with great surprise,

And ask'd,‘from whence we gain'd such large supplies?'

祂们拜访了码头，一个个啧啧称奇，

上千吨的煤堆占满了这里的地皮；

六十英尺长的大船足有几十条，

每一条都装载满了矿石燃料；

马车与乡下牛车多么拥挤，

满载的车队包围了这里。

见此情景，众神都十分意外，

“这么多物资究竟从何处来？”

各位神祇接下来参观了化工厂、别针厂、纽扣厂、枪械厂、腰带扣厂以及玩具厂。与激进派不同，比塞特很乐意见到女工与童工在工厂里辛勤劳动，在他看来这一幕很能振奋精神：

Inventions curious, various kinds of toys,

Then occupied the time of men and boys,

And blooming girls at work were often seen,

That twice their ages joined was scarce fifteen,

Sent by their parents out their bread to seek,

Who'd earn, perhaps, some shillings in a week;

And many women, too, you then might see,

With children on the lap, or round the knee,

An honest livelihood intent to gain,

And their sweet infant race help to maintain.

Charmed with the sight, the Gods the whole reviewed,

And seemed with admiration quite subdued.

新奇的发明与各种玩具，

将男子与男童的时间占据，

常能见到幼女在此打工卖力，

岁数翻一倍也不过十四五的年纪。

父母打发她们来到这里自食其力，

每周她们或许能将若干先令拿去；

在这里你还能见到许多妇女，

孩子们守在身边，或者躺在她们怀里。

她们在这里挣一份正经生计，

将怀中甜美婴儿的生机延续。

众神将工厂情景看了个饱足，

一个个充满敬佩，无不心悦诚服。

今天的读者们生活在一个将童工二字视作洪水猛兽的社会，因此以上诗文肯定会令他们大为惊骇，尤其是因为写下这段文字的诗人显然具备敏锐的观察力，并不是什么糊涂蛋。布莱克的观点自然与比塞特大相径庭。他在著名诗作《扫烟囱的男孩》当中悲叹了未成年烟囱清洁工的命运。来自北汉普顿郡的玛丽.阿尔科克也写过同样主题的诗文，题为《烟囱工的申诉》（The Chimney-Sweeper's Complaint）：

A chimney-sweeper's boy am I:

Pity my wretched fate!

Ah, turn your eyes; 'twoud draw a tear,

Knew you my helpless state.

我是个通烟囱工的学徒：

可怜我悲惨的命运！

啊，转过脸去流下泪水，

你可知我无助境遇。

Far from my home, no parents I

Am ever doomed to see;

My master, should I sue to him,

He'd flog the skin from me.

远离我的家，我的父母

再也无缘与我相见；

我的师父，若我胆敢央求，

定要抽得我皮开肉绽。

Ah, dearest madam, dearest sir,

Have pity on my youth;

Though black, and covered o'er with rags,

I tell you naught but truth.

各位亲爱的太太先生，

请可怜我的年幼；

尽管满面黝黑，衣衫破烂，

我的话却绝无虚构。

My feeble limbs, benumbed with cold,

Totter beneath the sack,

Which ere the morning dawn appears

Is loaded on my back.

我四肢纤细，在冷风中麻木，

在麻袋底下摇摇晃晃，

每天早晨曙光未显之前

麻袋就要压在我的背上。

My legs you see are burnt and bruised,

My feet are galled by stones,

My flesh for lack of food is gone,

I'm little else but bones.

我的双腿尽是烧伤瘀伤，

我的双脚被石头划破，

饥饿消磨了我的血肉，

除了骨头就不剩什么。

Yet still my master makes me work,

Not spares me day or night;

His 'prentice boy he says I am,

And he will have his right.

可是师父还要逼我干活

没日没夜不得休息；

他说我是他的学徒，

他非要让我使尽力气。

'Up to the highest top', he cries,

'There all out chimney-sweep!'

With panting heart and weeping eyes,

Trembling I upwards creep.

“爬到最高处！”他吼道，

“快上去将烟囱打扫！”

心跳加快，两眼流泪，

我哆嗦着挪动手脚。

But stop! no more -- I see him come;

Kind sir, remember me!

Oh, could I hide me underground,

How thankful should I be!

可是不能再写了——我看见他过来；

好先生，千万别把我忘记！

啊，要是我能在地底下藏身，

那可多么谢天谢地！