安徒生童話:Something 做出點樣子來
Something
by Hans Christian Andersen（1858）
MEAN to be somebody， and do something useful in the world，“ said the eldest of five brothers. ”I don't care how humble my position is， so that I can only do some good， which will be something. I intend to be a brickmaker； bricks are always wanted， and I shall be really doing something.“
“Your 'something' is not enough for me，” said the second brother； “what you talk of doing is nothing at all， it is journeyman's work， or might even be done by a machine. No！ I should prefer to be a builder at once， there is something real in that. A man gains a position， he becomes a citizen， has his own sign， his own house of call for his workmen： so I shall be a builder. If all goes well， in time I shall become a master， and have my own journeymen， and my wife will be treated as a master's wife. This is what I call something.”
“I call it all nothing，” said the third； “not in reality any position. There are many in a town far above a master builder in position. You may be an upright man， but even as a master you will only be ranked among common men. I know better what to do than that. I will be an architect， which will place me among those who possess riches and intellect， and who speculate in art. I shall certainly have to rise by my own endeavors from a bricklayer's laborer， or as a carpenter's apprentice—a lad wearing a paper cap， although I now wear a silk hat. I shall have to fetch beer and spirits for the journeymen， and they will call me 'thou，' which will be an insult. I shall endure it， however， for I shall look upon it all as a mere representation， a masquerade， a mummery， which to-morrow， that is， when I myself as a journeyman， shall have served my time， will vanish， and I shall go my way， and all that has passed will be nothing to me. Then I shall enter the academy， and get instructed in drawing， and be called an architect. I may even attain to rank， and have something placed before or after my name， and I shall build as others have done before me. By this there will be always 'something' to make me remembered， and is not that worth living for？”
“Not in my opinion，” said the fourth； “I will never follow the lead of others， and only imitate what they have done. I will be a genius， and become GREater than all of you together. I will create a new style of building， and introduce a plan for erecting houses suitable to the climate， with material easily obtained in the country， and thus suit national feeling and the developments of the age， besides building a storey for my own genius.”
“But supposing the climate and the material are not good for much，” said the fifth brother， “that would be very unfortunate for you， and have an influence over your experiments. Nationality may assert itself until it becomes affectation， and the developments of a century may run wild， as youth often does. I see clearly that none of you will ever really be anything worth notice， however you may now fancy it. But do as you like， I shall not imitate you. I mean to keep clear of all these things， and criticize what you do. In every action something imperfect may be discovered， something not right， which I shall make it my business to find out and expose； that will be something， I fancy.” And he kept his word， and became a critic.
People said of this fifth brother， “There is something very precise about him； he has a good head-piece， but he does nothing.” And on that very account they thought he must be something.
Now， you see， this is a little history which will never end； as long as the world exists， there will always be men like these five brothers. And what became of them？ Were they each nothing or something？ You shall hear； it is quite a history.
the eldest brother， he who fabricated bricks， soon discovered that each brick， when finished， brought him in a small coin， if only a copper one； and many copper pieces， if placed one upon another， can be changed into a shining shilling； and at whatever door a person knocks， who has a number of these in his hands， whether it be the baker's， the butcher's， or the tailor's， the door flies open， and he can get all he wants. So you see the value of bricks. Some of the bricks， however， crumbled to pieces， or were broken， but the elder brother found a use for even these.
On the high bank of earth， which formed a dyke on the sea-coast， a poor woman named Margaret wished to build herself a house， so all the imperfect bricks were given to her， and a few whole ones with them； for the eldest brother was a kind-hearted man， although he never achieved anything higher than making bricks. The poor woman built herself a little house—it was small and narrow， and the window was quite crooked， the door too low， and the straw roof might have been better thatched. But still it was a shelter， and from within you could look far over the sea， which dashed wildly against the sea-wall on which the little house was built. The salt waves sprinkled their white foam over it， but it stood firm， and remained long after he who had given the bricks to build it was dead and buried.
the second brother of course knew better how to build than poor Margaret， for he served an apprenticeship to learn it. When his time was up， he packed up his knapsack， and went on his travels， singing the journeyman's song，—
While young， I can wander without a care，And build new houses everywhere；Fair and bright are my dreams of home，Always thought of wherever I roam.
Hurrah for a workman's life of glee！
there's a loved one at home who thinks of me；Home and friends I can ne'er forget，And I mean to be a master yet.
And that is what he did. On his return home， he became a master builder，—built one house after another in the town， till they formed quite a street， which， when finished， became really an ornament to the town. These houses built a house for him in return， which was to be his own. But how can houses build a house？ If the houses were asked， they could not answer； but the people would understand， and say， “Certainly the street built his house for him.” It was not very large， and the floor was of lime； but when he danced with his bride on the lime-covered floor， it was to him white and shining， and from every stone in the wall flowers seemed to spring forth and decorate the room as with the richest tapestry. It was really a pretty house， and in it were a happy pair. The flag of the corporation fluttered before it， and the journeymen and apprentices shouted “Hurrah.” He had gained his position， he had made himself something， and at last he died， which was “something” too.
Now we come to the architect， the third brother， who had been first a carpenter's apprentice， had worn a cap， and served as an errand boy， but afterwards went to the academy， and risen to be an architect， a high and noble gentleman. Ah yes， the houses of the new street， which the brother who was a master builder erected， may have built his house for him， but the street received its name from the architect， and the handsomest house in the street became his property. That was something， and he was “something，” for he had a list of titles before and after his name. His children were called “wellborn，” and when he died， his widow was treated as a lady of position， and that was “something.” His name remained always written at the corner of the street， and lived in every one's mouth as its name. Yes， this also was “something.”
And what about the genius of the family—the fourth brother—who wanted to invent something new and original？ He tried to build a lofty storey himself， but it fell to pieces， and he fell with it and broke his neck. However， he had a splendid funeral， with the city flags and music in the procession； flowers were strewn on the pavement， and three orations were spoken over his grave， each one longer than the other. He would have liked this very much during his life， as well as the poems about him in the papers， for he liked nothing so well as to be talked of. A monument was also erected over his grave. It was only another storey over him， but that was “something，” Now he was dead， like the three other brothers.
the youngest—the critic—outlived them all， which was quite right for him. It gave him the opportunity of having the last word， which to him was of GREat importance. People always said he had a good head-piece. At last his hour came， and he died， and arrived at the gates of heaven. Souls always enter these gates in pairs； so he found himself standing and waiting for admission with another； and who should it be but old dame Margaret， from the house on the dyke！ “It is evidently for the sake of contrast that I and this wretched soul should arrive here exactly at the same time，” said the critic. “Pray who are you， my good woman？” said he； “do you want to get in here too？”
And the old woman curtsied as well as she could； she thought it must be St. Peter himself who spoke to her. “I am a poor old woman，” she said， “without my family. I am old Margaret， that lived in the house on the dyke.”
“Well， and what have you done—what GREat deed have you performed down below？”
“I have done nothing at all in the world that could give me a claim to have these doors open for me，” she said. “It would be only through mercy that I can be allowed to slip in through the gate.”
“In what manner did you leave the world？” he asked， just for the sake of saying something； for it made him feel very weary to stand there and wait.
“How I left the world？” she replied； “why， I can scarcely tell you. During the last years of my life I was sick and miserable， and I was unable to bear creeping out of bed suddenly into the frost and cold. Last winter was a hard winter， but I have got over it all now. There were a few mild days， as your honor， no doubt， knows. The ice lay thickly on the lake， as far one could see. The people came from the town， and walked upon it， and they say there were dancing and skating upon it， I believe， and a GREat feasting. The sound of beautiful music came into my poor little room where I lay. Towards evening， when the moon rose beautifully， though not yet in her full splendor， I glanced from my bed over the wide sea； and there， just where the sea and sky met， rose a curious white cloud. I lay looking at the cloud till I observed a little black spot in the middle of it， which gradually grew larger and larger， and then I knew what it meant—I am old and experienced； and although this token is not often seen， I knew it， and a shuddering seized me. Twice in my life had I seen this same thing， and I knew that there would be an awful storm， with a spring tide， which would overwhelm the poor people who were now out on the ice， drinking， dancing， and making merry. Young and old， the whole city， were there； who was to warn them， if no one noticed the sign， or knew what it meant as I did？ I was so alarmed， that I felt more strength and life than I had done for some time. I got out of bed， and reached the window； I could not crawl any farther from weakness and exhaustion； but I managed to open the window. I saw the people outside running and jumping about on the ice； I saw the beautiful flags waving in the wind； I heard the boys shouting， 'Hurrah！' and the lads and lasses singing， and everything full of merriment and joy. But there was the white cloud with the black spot hanging over them. I cried out as loudly as I could， but no one heard me； I was too far off from the people. Soon would the storm burst， the ice break， and all who were on it be irretrievably lost. They could not hear me， and to go to them was quite out of my power. Oh， if I could only get them safe on land！ Then came the thought， as if from heaven， that I would rather set fire to my bed， and let the house be burnt down， than that so many people should perish miserably. I got a light， and in a few moments the red flames leaped up as a beacon to them. I escaped fortunately as far as the threshold of the door； but there I fell down and remained： I could go no farther. The flames rushed out towards me， flickered on the window， and rose high above the roof. The people on the ice became aware of the fire， and ran as fast as possible to help a poor sick woman， who， as they thought， was being burnt to death. There was not one who did not run. I heard them coming， and I also at the same time was conscious of a rush of air and a sound like the roar of heavy artillery. The spring flood was lifting the ice covering， which brake into a thousand pieces. But the people had reached the sea-wall， where the sparks were flying round. I had saved them all； but I suppose I could not survive the cold and fright； so I came up here to the gates of paradise. I am told they are open to poor creatures such as I am， and I have now no house left on earth； but I do not think that will give me a claim to be admitted here.”
then the gates were opened， and an angel led the old woman in. She had dropped one little straw out of her straw bed， when she set it on fire to save the lives of so many. It had been changed into the purest gold—into gold that constantly GREw and expanded into flowers and fruit of immortal beauty.
“See，” said the angel， pointing to the wonderful straw， “this is what the poor woman has brought. What dost thou bring？ I know thou hast accomplished nothing， not even made a single brick. Even if thou couldst return， and at least produce so much， very likely， when made， the brick would be useless， unless done with a good will， which is always something. But thou canst not return to earth， and I can do nothing for thee.”
then the poor soul， the old mother who had lived in the house on the dyke， pleaded for him. She said， “His brother made all the stone and bricks， and sent them to me to build my poor little dwelling， which was a GREat deal to do for a poor woman like me. Could not all these bricks and pieces be as a wall of stone to prevail for him？ It is an act of mercy； he is wanting it now； and here is the very fountain of mercy.”
“then，” said the angel， “thy brother， he who has been looked upon as the meanest of you all， he whose honest deeds to thee appeared so humble，—it is he who has sent you this heavenly gift. Thou shalt not be turned away. Thou shalt have permission to stand without the gate and reflect， and repent of thy life on earth； but thou shalt not be admitted here until thou hast performed one good deed of repentance， which will indeed for thee be something.”
“I could have expressed that better，” thought the critic； but he did not say it aloud， which for him was SOMETHING， after all.
“我要做出點樣子來！”五兄弟中最年長的那位說，“我要對世界有用處，那怕是最微不足道的地位，只要有好處就行，我幹一樣，就會幹出點樣子來。我要燒磚，這東西人是不能少的，這樣我總算做出點樣子來了！”“可是你做的那點樣子太不足道了！”二弟這麼說，“你那點樣子幾乎等於零；那是打下手的活，可以用機器做。不行，最好還是當泥水匠，那總算有點樣子，我要做泥水匠。這是一種地位！當上了泥水匠，就可以進入行會，成市民，可以掛起自己的幡子，進自家本行的小酒館。是的，要是幹得不錯，我還可以僱學徒工，被人稱做師傅1，我的妻子也就成了師母。這纔像做出了點樣子！”“那根本不算甚麼！”老三說道，“那是排在等級之外的，城市裏等級多着呢，師傅上面一大串，你可以是個忠誠的老好人，可是即使當上了師傅，你還只不過是大家說的”普通人“！
不行，我知道一種更好一點的！我要去做建築師，踏進藝術界、思想界，在精神世界裏上到高一些的層次裏去。誠然我得從下面開始，是的，我可以直說：我開始可以幹木匠小工，戴頂便帽，雖然我習慣戴絲帽，爲那些普通學徒跑腿拿啤酒、拿燒酒，他們會直呼我爲你2，這很不體面！但是我可以把這一切當成一場化裝表演，是一張帶臉譜的執照！轉天——也就是說，我正式成了學徒之後，我便會走我自己的路，別人跟我沒關係！我進藝術學院、學繪畫，別人稱我爲建築設計師—— 這纔算做出了點樣子！這是了不起的！我可以躋身“高貴的、尊敬先生”的級別裏3.是啊，名字前、名字後都加上了這麼點頭銜，我不停地建，不斷地建，就像我前面的那些人一樣！總有點甚麼可以信賴的東西！這一切纔是有了點樣子！“”可是我卻不在乎你那點樣子！“老四說道，”我不隨大流，不願人家幹甚麼我就幹甚麼。我要成爲一個天才，比你們加在一起都更能幹一些！我要創造新的風格4，爲建築而創意，要適合本國的氣候和材料、本國的民族性、我們時代的發展，上面再蓋上一層留給我自己的天才！“”可是要是氣候和材料都不行又怎麼辦呢！“第五個說道，”那就糟了，因爲這是有影響的！至於民族性嘛，那可以隨意被人誇張成爲虛假的東西；時代的發展會令你發狂，就像青年人常常發狂那樣。我可以看得出，你們誰也不能真正做出點甚麼樣子來的，不管你們自己怎麼想。不過想幹甚麼便幹你們的，我不想學你們，我要站在局外，我要把你們所幹的事研究一番！甚麼事情總有不對頭的地方，我要挑剔出來，評說一番，這纔是做出了點樣子！“
他就這樣做了，人們在談到這位老五的時候說道：“他肯定有點名堂！頭腦很好使喚！可是他不做事！”——不過正是這樣，他纔有點樣子。
瞧，這只不過是一小段故事。然而，只要世界存在，它就沒有個結尾！
可是，這五兄弟有個下文沒有呢？這算不上甚麼樣子！聽下去，故事可好玩呢！
大哥哥，那個燒磚的，感覺到每燒好一塊磚，從磚那兒就滾出一小枚銅板。可是把許多小銅板摞在一起，就變成了一塊亮堂堂的銀幣。拿上它隨便往那兒敲，麵包房、肉店、五金店，是啊，不論敲到哪兒，哪兒的大門便打開了，可以得到自己要用的東西。瞧，磚就能有這樣的本事！有的磚也可能碎掉，或者從中斷掉，可是這樣的磚也是有用的。
海堤那邊瑪格麗特老媽媽，那貧寒的婦人，非常想砌一間小屋；她得到了所有那些破磚，還有幾塊整的，因爲老大哥的心腸很好，儘管他乾的事只不過是做磚。貧苦婦人自己砌起了房子。屋子很窄，有一扇窗子還裝歪了，門也太矮，草頂也可以鋪得更好一些。但總算是一個蔽身之所，從那兒還可以看到海外遠方，大海兇猛地衝擊着海堤；鹹澀的水花濺撒在屋子上。那個燒了那些磚的人死了離開了人世，那所屋子今天還在那裏。
二哥，是啊，他現在能與衆不同地乾泥水活兒了。要知道，他就是學這種活兒的。在他學徒工期滿測試活兒完成了以後，他便背上行囊，唱起手工匠的歌來：
我要跑，趁着我還年輕力壯，到外面去把房屋建；手藝是我的錢袋，年輕的心是我的幸福；我要重返故里，我對我心愛的人說過！
妙啊！一個勤勞的手工匠要做出點樣子並不難5！
他做到了。在城裏，在他當了師傅回來的時候，他一所房子挨着一所房子地造，整整造了一條街。這街建完了，看去很漂亮，給城市添了光彩。於是這些房子爲他建了一所小屋，歸他自己所有。可是房子怎麼會建小屋呢？是啊，問問它們好了！它們不回答，可是人民回答了，說：“是的，不錯，那條街看來是爲他建了他的屋子！”的確不大，泥土鋪的地面。可是當他和他的新娘在上面跳舞的時候，地面卻變得光滑，像打了蠟一樣；從牆上每一塊石頭裏都冒出一朵花，漂亮得就像鋪過最值錢的貼面一樣。是一所很精巧的小屋，一對幸福的夫婦。行會的旗幡在外面飄揚，學徒工和小工喊道：“妙啊！是啊，真是做出了點樣子！”後來他去世了！這也真有點樣子！現在再說建築設計師，老三，他先當了木工的學徒，戴上了便帽，當差到處跑。但是經過藝術學院，他升爲建築設計師，成了“高貴的、尊敬的先生”！是啊，要是說那條街的房子曾爲他的哥哥，那位泥水匠師傅，造了一所房子的話，那麼現在那條街就以這位兄弟的名字命了名，這算有了點樣子。他做出了點樣子，他的名字前名字後有了一大串頭銜；他的孩子被稱爲尊貴的孩子；他去世後，他的遺孀也成了有地位的寡婦——是那麼回事！他的名字今天還在街角上，在人們的嘴邊上掛着，作爲街名——是的，真有了點樣子！
現在輪到說那位天才，第四位哥哥了，那位想搞出點新名堂，想有點出人頭地，想上面再加上一層的那一位。可是他多出的那一層塌了，他摔了下來，摔斷了脖子。——不過行會爲他很像樣的出了殯；打着行會的旗幡，還有樂隊。報紙刊登關於他去世的文章還特別做了花邊，在街頭的橋上還掛了花環。爲他念了三篇悼詞，一篇比一篇長一大截；這會讓他很高興的，因爲他非常喜歡被人談論。墳頭上豎了一塊紀念碑，只有一層，但它總是有點樣子的。
現在他和其他三位哥哥一樣地死掉了。可是那最後一個，那個要研究一番他的諸位哥哥所幹的事的那一個，他活的時間長過了其他四位，你知道這是最恰當不過的。因爲這樣他便可以作出定論，作定論對他是至關重要的。你知道他是有好使喚的頭腦的！人們是這樣說的。後來他也壽終正寢了，他死了來到了天國的大門。這兒總是一對一對來的！他和另外一個也想進天國門的魂靈一起到了那兒，那人正是海堤小屋的瑪格麗特老媽媽。“這肯定是爲了加強對比，我才和這個可憐的魂靈同時來到這裏！”這位研究專家說道。“噢，她是誰？這小老太婆！她也要進這裏面去嗎？”他問道。
老婦人儘可能地恭恭敬敬向他行了個屈膝禮，她以爲站在她面前說話的是聖彼得6呢。“我是一個貧寒的可憐人，甚麼親人都沒有！海堤上住的那個老瑪格麗特！”“噢，她在世上做了甚麼，幹了甚麼事？”“在世上我甚麼事也沒有幹！沒有甚麼像樣的東西可以令天國之門爲我打開！如果真允許我進到裏面去，那對我真是最大的恩德了！”“她是怎麼離開這個世界的？”他問道。爲了找點話說，因爲站在那兒等，很令他心煩。“是啊，我是怎麼離開的，我真不清楚！要知道，最後幾年我病得不成樣子。後來，我大概連爬下牀，爬到那冰雪遍地的寒冷的外面都做不到了。那是一個極寒冷的冬天，不過現在我已經戰勝它了。有幾天風雪平靜極了，但是卻冷得要命，您尊貴的大人一定知道。從海灘往外看，一望無際的大海都爲冰雪所覆蓋，城裏人全出來跑到冰上面；那是他們所謂的滑冰，冰上跳舞。我相信那邊還有音樂和許多食品；音樂聲在我的那個破屋子裏躺着就能清楚地聽到。後來到了傍晚，月亮升起來了，不過還蒼白無力。我在我的牀上透過窗子一直看到海灘上，在遠處，在天海交接的地方，飄來了一塊奇怪的白雲。我躺在那裏看着它，看着這塊雲的中心處的那個黑點。這黑點越來越大，馬上我就明白是甚麼意思了。我年邁，有經驗，儘管那樣的徵兆人們是不常見的。我知道它，害怕起來！以前我一生裏曾經兩次看到過這樣的事。我知道，馬上便會有可怕的風暴和狂浪擊來，它會淹沒外邊那些這陣子正在那裏喝酒、跳蹦、歡樂的可憐人。老老少少，全城的人你知道都在那兒。要是誰也沒有看出，誰也不知道我現在知道的情況，那誰去警告他們呢。我害怕極了，我多年來沒有像現在這樣有活力！我從牀上下來，來到窗前，再遠的地方我沒力去了；可是窗子我還是打開了，可以看到那邊人們在冰上跑，在蹦跳，看見彩旗飄揚，聽到孩子們高聲喊叫喝采，姑娘和小夥子們在歌唱，大家快活極了。然而那白雲帶着中心的那黑圈越升越高；我盡我自己最大的力量大聲喊叫，可是沒有人聽見我，我離開他們太遠了。很快風暴便要來臨，冰便要破裂，那邊的人全都會沉下去無法得救。他們聽不見我，我又不可能到他們那裏去；但是我卻能把他們引到陸地上來！這時上帝讓我想到把我的牀單點燃，寧可讓屋子燒掉，也不能讓這麼多人慘死。我點燃了火，於是冒起了紅色的火焰——是的，我及時出了門，可是我在門外倒下了，再也不行了！火舌向我伸來，從窗子伸出，蓋過了屋子。他們在那邊看見了，全都儘快地奔跑過來，來幫助我這可憐人，他們以爲我被火圍在裏面了，所有的人都跑了過來。我聽到他們跑來了，我也聽見空中怎麼突然一下子呼嘯起來；我聽到轟隆的巨響，就像重炮的聲音一樣，狂飆掀起了冰塊，冰塊碎裂。不過他們已到達了海堤，火星濺到了我的身上。我把他們都保住了，可是我再忍受不住那寒冷和受到的那驚恐，於是我便來到這天國的大門。他們說，這門也會爲我這麼一個可憐的人開啓的！現在下面海堤上我已經沒有屋子了，可是這裏卻沒有我的入口。”
這時，天國的門打開了，天使把老婦人引了進去。她的一根穀草掉落在外面，這穀草是她用來鋪牀，是她點燃用來拯救那許多人的，現在變成純金的了，不過是在變幻的金子，它長出了許多最美麗的花飾。“瞧，這是那位貧寒婦人帶來的！”天使說道。“可你帶來了甚麼？是的，我當然知道，你甚麼也沒有幹，連一塊磚都沒有做過。你可以再回去，至少帶點甚麼來。這是不行的，只要你做點甚麼，有個善意，那總是像點樣子的；可是你不能回去了，我幫不了你甚麼！”
這時，那貧苦的魂靈，海堤上的婦人爲他求乞了：“他的哥哥先前把好多碎石碎磚送給我，我的那間簡陋的屋子全是用那些磚蓋的，對我這個可憐人真是天大的恩德！那些碎磚碎塊是不是可以爲他頂算一塊磚？這是一種善事！現在他需要它，這裏不正是善行之家嗎！”“你的哥哥，他，那個你說的最沒出息的人。”天使說道，“他，那個在你看來他的最忠誠勤勞只不過是最藐小的事的人，現在卻爲你進天國的門盡了力。不把你攆走，你可以在這外面呆着，想一想，改正一下你在下面的生活。但是在你做出點好事——做出點樣子之前，你是進不了門的！”“這話我可以講得更好一些！”這位研究家想道，不過他沒有大聲說出來，這已經算是做出點樣子來了。
1丹麥處在封建社會時期的時候，手工業存在着嚴格的行會制度，只有在把持行會的人認可時，手工業藝人才能成爲師傅，加入同業公會，僱傭小工。有一些手工藝人雖然很有本事，但在不爲行會把持人認可時，不得加入同業公會，不得僱工，這種手工藝人叫“自由師傅”。安徒生的父親便是做鞋的自由師傅。
2“你”是與“您”相異的不夠尊重的稱號。參見《飛箱》注3.3這裏指當上藝術學院的教授。
4這裏指的是丹麥藝術史家豪伊恩（1798-1870）在1850年前後所倡導風行的民族風格。
5安徒生自己所作的《手工藝人之歌》的一段。他曾於1854年1月28日在“工人協會”週年紀念會上朗頌過這首詩的全文。
6歐洲民間常說把守天堂大門的是耶蘇的信徒聖彼得。
