作者：R.吉卜林
出版社：辽宁人民出版社
格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT
吉姆试读：
The Bedside Classics of World Literature, Philosophy and Psychology
Designed to make all English classic works available to all readers, The Bedside Classics bring you the world' s greatest literature, philosophy, psychology books that have stood the test of time - at specially low prices. These beautifully designed books will be proud addictions to your bookshelf, . You' ll want all these time-tested classics for your own reading pleasure. The titles of the fourth set of The Bedside Classics are:Best Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson by R. W. Emerson ¥15.50Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin by Benjamin Franklin ¥13.50A Discourse on Method by Rene Descartes ¥9.50Phaedo by Plato ¥36.00The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne ¥16.50Kim by Rudyard Kipling ¥18.00The Story of Mankind by Hendrik van Loon ¥30.00The Time Machine by H.G.Wells ¥13.00The Essays on the Wisdom of Life by Arthur Schopenhauer ¥12.00Pascal' s Pensées by Blaise Pascal ¥23.00The Pilgrim' s Progress by John Bunyan ¥14.00Totem and Taboo by Sigmund Freud ¥11.00The Story of My Life by Helen Keller ¥22.00Jean-Christophe by Romain Rolland(Volume I) ¥33.00War and Peace(I+II)by Leo Tolstoy ¥68.00
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Is This Book for You?
英国作家的印度梦——“最经典英语文库”第四辑之《吉姆》导读田璐柯R．吉卜林（1865-1936），英国著名小说家，诺贝尔文学奖得主。其最著名的小说之一，就是这本《吉姆》。该小说以细腻的人物描写、文化细节描写，以及对印度各种宗教的精细描写而闻名于世。该小说获得很多大奖。它于2003年被评为“20世纪百部最佳英语小说”之一，位列第78位。
小说主人公是一个名字叫Kimball O' Hara，简称吉姆，出生在印度的13岁的男孩子。他的父亲在维多利亚女王的部队里当兵，却因对生活失去希望，性格郁闷，长时间酗酒，很年轻就去世了。母亲也是个爱尔兰人，出身于一个并不富裕的家庭。由于生活的贫穷，也很快离开了这个世界。小吉姆则被留在了当时属于英国统治下的印度。他作为一个孤儿，一人生活在旁遮普省的某贫民窟中，靠乞讨为生。有段时间，他跟某个有些年纪的印度老太太混日子。老太太天天吸食鸦片，他没有办法，只好自己出去到街上，讨要些小钱，买些食物来填饱肚子。吉姆几乎完全融入了当地的最底层民众的生活之中，也因此几乎没有什么人能看得出来他是个白人。
就这样，他一天又一天地混。忽然，有一天，吉姆在街上遇到了一个喇嘛，这喇嘛来自遥远的西藏。后来，他居然与这个上了年纪的西藏喇嘛成了好朋友。此后，他成了喇嘛的门徒，并跟随喇嘛走南闯北。这种闯荡的生活，成了小说中独特的风景，成了读者一定喜爱阅读的主人公的重要历险故事。喇嘛一生都在找寻关于“箭之河”的消息。所谓“箭之河”，是传说中的一条河，佛陀认为自己朝天上施放了一支箭，它降落到大地上面时，就会出现一条河。无论是什么人，只要在此河里沐浴，他的所有罪孽都会被洗净，再次成为一个纯洁之人。而吉姆就是想跟随喇嘛，找到这条河。
此外，吉姆也想通过追随喇嘛，逃避贫民窟里的苦难生活。
一次偶然的机会，吉姆遇到亡父的一个战友。通过他脖子上佩戴的身份证明，这人知道了吉姆的身世。于是，他强迫小吉姆离开喇嘛，但喇嘛坚持说，一定要小吉姆完成他的人生计划：上学。并且，喇嘛支付所有的学费支出。
上学期间，吉姆越来越感到，自己很热爱这位喇嘛，他认为这是位圣人。同时，他也接受了间谍方面的训练。
毕业前，他获得了一次长时间的假期。于是，他跟随喇嘛一起踏上了通往喜马拉雅山的征程。整个行程中，充满了各种冒险，灵魂上的纠结，以及与俄国间谍之间的争斗等有趣的故事。从俄国间谍那里，他获取了很多有用的地图、文件等重要工具，并通过一些人的帮助，使得遇险的喇嘛得以获救。
喇嘛也由此意识到，他有些偏离自己锁定的方向。他要找寻的“箭之河”应该处于平原中，而不是高山上。
最后，喇嘛找到了他心中梦想的那条河，并获得了“心灵上的启迪”。《吉姆》这本小说总体上是以英帝国殖民地为背景所写，书中充满了某种野性味道，主要情节都被主人公及周边人物进行的旅行、买卖及冒险故事所占据。书中最令人感到有兴趣的除了主人公吉姆外，就是喇嘛了。吉姆在精神上依附于喇嘛，同时他也想在印度文化与白人文化之间进行某种调和，而喇嘛的世界里，最关心的，则是经过轮回，达到精神上的超度。
而我们读者心中会一直不停地追问一个问题：吉姆到底是什么信仰的人？佛教、天主教、新教、穆斯林教？其实，这个问题也很好回答，即，一言以蔽之：吉姆现在已经长大成人，他深深地热爱着印度。
Joseph Rudyard Kipling
Joseph Rudyard Kipling (30 December 1865-18 January 1936) was an English short-story writer, poet, and novelist. He wrote tales and poems of British soldiers in India and stories for children. He was born in Bombay, in the Bombay Presidency of British India, and was taken by his family to England when he was five years old.
Kipling' s works of fiction include The Jungle Book(1894), Kim (1901), and many short stories, including The Man Who Would Be King (1888). His poems include Mandalay (1890),Gunga Din(1890), The Gods of the Copybook Headings(1919),The White Man' s Burden(1899),and If—(1910).
Kipling was one of the most popular writers in England, in both prose and verse, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.Henry James said: “Kipling strikes me personally as the most complete man of genius (as distinct from fine intelligence) that I have ever known.”In 1907, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, making him the first English-language writer to receive the prize, and its youngest recipient to date. Among other honours, he was sounded out for the British Poet Laureateship and on several occasions for a knighthood, all of which he declined.
General Preface
Millions of Chinese are learning English to acquire knowledge and skills for communication in a world where English has become the primary language for international discourse. Yet not many learners have come to realize that the command of the English language also enables them to have an easy access to the world literary classics such as Shakespeare' s plays, Shelley' s poems, mark Twain' s novels and Nietzsche' s works which are an important part of liberal-arts education. The most important goals of universities are not vocational, that is, not merely the giving of knowledge and the training of skills.
In a broad sense, education aims at broadening young people' s mental horizon, cultivating virtues and shaping their character. Lincoln, Mao Zedong and many other great leaders and personages of distinction declared how they drew immense inspiration and strength from literary works. As a matter of fact, many of them had aspired to become writers in their young age. Alexander the Great (356-323 B.C.) is said to take along with him two things, waking or sleeping: a book and a dagger, and the book is Iliad, a literary classic, by Homer. He would put these two much treasured things under his pillow when he went to bed.
Today, we face an unprecedented complex and changing world. To cope with this rapid changing world requires not only communication skills, but also adequate knowledge of cultures other than our own home culture. Among the most important developments in present-day global culture is the ever increasing cultural exchanges and understanding between different nations and peoples. And one of the best ways to know foreign cultures is to read their literary works, particularly their literary classics, the soul of a country' s culture. They also give you the best language and the feeling of sublimity.
Liaoning People' s Publishing House is to be congratulated for its foresight and courage in making a new series of world literary classics available to the reading public. It is hoped that people with an adequate command of the English language will read them, like them and keep them as their lifetime companions.
I am convinced that the series will make an important contribution to the literary education of the young people in china. At a time when the whole country is emphasizing “spiritual civilization”, it is certainly a very timely venture to put out the series of literary classics for literary and cultural education.Zhang ZhongzaiProfessorBeijing Foreign Studies UniversityJuly, 2013 Beijing
总序
经典名著的语言无疑是最凝练、最优美、最有审美价值的。雪莱的那句“如冬已来临，春天还会远吗？”让多少陷于绝望的人重新燃起希望之火，鼓起勇气，迎接严冬过后的春天。徐志摩一句“悄悄的我走了，正如我悄悄的来；我挥一挥衣袖，不带走一片云彩”又让多少人陶醉。尼采的那句“上帝死了”，又给多少人以振聋发聩的启迪作用。
读经典名著，尤其阅读原汁原味作品，可以怡情养性，增长知识，加添才干，丰富情感，开阔视野。所谓“经典”，其实就是作者所属的那个民族的文化积淀，是那个民族的灵魂缩影。英国戏剧泰斗莎士比亚的《哈姆雷特》和《麦克白》等、“意大利语言之父”的但丁的《神曲》之《地狱篇》《炼狱篇》及《天堂篇》、爱尔兰世界一流作家詹姆斯·乔伊斯的《尤利西斯》及《一个艺术家的肖像》等、美国风趣而笔法超一流的著名小说家马克·吐温的《哈克历险记》以及《汤姆索亚历险记》等，德国著名哲学家尼采的《查拉图斯特拉如是说》及《快乐的科学》等等，都为塑造自己民族的文化积淀，做出了永恒的贡献，也同时向世界展示了他们所属的民族的优美剪影。
很多著名领袖如林肯、毛泽东等伟大人物，也都曾从经典名著中汲取力量，甚至获得治国理念。耶鲁大学教授查尔斯·希尔曾在题为《经典与治国理念》的文章，阐述了读书与治国之间的绝妙关系。他这样写道：“在几乎所有经典名著中，都可以找到让人叹为观止、深藏其中的治国艺术原则。”
经典名著，不仅仅有治国理念，更具提升读者审美情趣的功能。世界上不同时代、不同地域的优秀经典作品，都存在一个共同属性：歌颂赞美人间的真善美，揭露抨击世间的假恶丑。
读欧美自但丁以来的经典名著，你会看到，西方无论是在漫长的黑暗时期，抑或进入现代进程时期，总有经典作品问世，对世间的负面，进行冷峻的批判。与此同时，也有更多的大家作品问世，热情讴歌人间的真诚与善良，使读者不由自主地沉浸于经典作品的审美情感之中。
英语经典名著，显然是除了汉语经典名著以外，人类整个进程中至关重要的文化遗产的一部分。从历史上看，英语是全世界经典阅读作品中，使用得最广泛的国际性语言。这一事实，没有产生根本性变化。本世纪相当长一段时间，这一事实也似乎不会发生任何变化。而要更深入地了解并切身感受英语经典名著的风采，阅读原汁原味的英语经典作品的过程，显然是必不可少的。
辽宁人民出版社及时并隆重推出“最经典英语文库”系列丛书，是具有远见与卓识的出版行为。我相信，这套既可供阅读，同时也具收藏价值的英语原版经典作品系列丛书，在帮助人们了解什么才是经典作品的同时，也一定会成为广大英语爱好者、大中学生以及学生家长们挚爱的“最经典英语文库”。北京外国语大学英语学院北外公共外交研究中心欧美文学研究中心主任全国英国文学学会名誉会长张中载 教授2013年7月于北京
CHAPTER 1
' h ye who tread the Narrow WayO
By Tophet-flare to Judgment Day,
Be gentle when the heathen pray
To Buddha at Kamakura! '
HE sat, in defiance of municipal orders, astride the gun Zam-Zammah on her brick platform opposite the old Ajaib-Gher—the Wonder House, as the natives call the Lahore Museum. Who hold Zam-Zammah, that 'fire-breathing dragon, ' hold the Punjab, for the great green-bronze piece is always first of the conqueror' s loot.
There was some justification for Kim, —he had kicked Lala Dinanath' s boy off the trunnions, —since the English held the Punjab and Kim was English. Though he was burned black as any native; though he spoke the vernacular by preference, and his mother-tongue in a clipped uncertain sing-song; though he consorted on terms of perfect equality with the small boys of the bazar; Kim was white—a poor white of the very poorest. The half-caste woman who looked after him (she smoked opium, and pretended to keep a second-hand furniture shop by the square where the cheap cabs wait) told the missionaries that she was Kim' s mother' s sister; but his mother had been nursemaid in a colonel' s family and had married Kimball O' Hara, a young colour-sergeant of the Mavericks, an Irish regiment. He afterwards took a post on the Sind, Punjab, and Delhi railway, and his regiment went home without him. The wife died of cholera in Ferozepore, and O' Hara fell to drink and loafing up and down the line with the keen-eyed three-year-old baby. Societies and chaplains, anxious for the child, tried to catch him, but O' Hara drifted away, till he came across the woman who took opium and learned the taste from her, and died as poor whites die in India. His estate at death consisted of three papers—one he called his ' ne varietur' because those words were written below his signature thereon, and another his ' clearance-certificate.' The third was Kim' s birth-certificate. Those things, he was used to say, in his glorious opium-hours, would yet make little Kimball a man. On no account was Kim to part with them, for they belonged to a great piece of magic—such magic as men practised over yonder behind the Museum, in the big blue and white Jadoo-Gher—the Magic House, as we name the Masonic Lodge. It would, he said, all come right some day, and Kim' s horn would be exalted between pillars—monstrous pillars—of beauty and strength. The Colonel himself, riding on a horse, at the head of the finest regiment in the world, would, attend to Kim, —little Kim that should have been better off than his father. Nine hundred first-class devils, whose god was a Red Bull on a green field, would attend to Kim, if they had not forgotten O' Hara—poor O' Hara that was gang-foreman on the Ferozepore line. Then he would weep bitterly in the broken rush chair on the veranda. So it came about after his death that the woman sewed parchment, paper, and birth-certificate into a leather amulet-case which she strung round Kim' s neck.
'And some day, ' she said, confusedly remembering O' Hara' s prophecies, ' there will come for you a great Red Bull on a green field, and the Colonel riding on his tall horse, yes, and' —dropping into English—' nine hundred devils.'
'Ah, ' said Kim, ' I shall remember. A Red Bull and a Colonel on a horse will come, but first, my father said, will come the two men making ready the ground for these matters. That is how, my father said, they always did; and it is always so when men work magic.'
If the woman had sent Kim up to the local Jadoo-Gher with those papers, he would, of course, have been taken over by the Provincial Lodge and sent to the Masonic Orphanage in the Hills; but what she had heard of magic she distrusted. Kim, too, held views of his own. As he reached the years of indiscretion, he learned to avoid missionaries and white men of serious aspect who asked who he was, and what he did. For Kim did nothing with an immense success. True, he knew the wonderful walled city of Lahore from the Delhi Gate to the outer Fort Ditch; was hand in glove with men who led lives stranger than anything Haroun al Raschid dreamed of; and he lived in a life wild as that of the Arabian Nights, but missionaries and secretaries of charitable societies could not see the beauty of it. His nickname through the wards was 'Little Friend of all the World' ; and very often, being lithe and inconspicuous, he executed commissions by night on the crowded housetops for sleek and shiny young men of fashion. It was intrigue, of course, —he knew that much, as he had known all evil since he could speak, —but what he loved was the game for its own sake—the stealthy prowl through the dark gullies and lanes, the crawl up a water-pipe, the sights and sounds of the women' s world on the flat roofs, and the headlong flight from housetop to housetop under cover of the hot dark. Then there were holy men, ash-smeared faquirs by their brick shrines under the trees at the riverside, with whom he was quite familiar—greeting them as they returned from begging-tours, and, when no one was by, eating from the same dish. The woman who looked after him insisted with tears that he should wear European clothes—trousers, a shirt, and a battered hat. Kim found it easier to slip into Hindu or Mohammedan garb when engaged on certain businesses. One of the young men of fashion—he who was found dead at the bottom of a well on the night of the earthquake—had once given him a complete suit of Hindu kit, the costume of a low-caste street boy, and Kim stored it in a secret place under some baulks in Nila Ram' s timber-yard, beyond the Punjab High Court, where the fragrant deodar logs lie seasoning after they have driven down the Ravee. When there was business or frolic afoot, Kim would use his properties, returning at dawn to the veranda, all tired out from shouting at the heels of a marriage procession, or yelling at a Hindu festival. Sometimes there was food in the house, more often there was not, and then Kim went out again to eat with his native friends.
As he drummed his heels against Zam-Zammah he turned now and again from his king-of-the-castle game with little Chota Lai, and Abdullah the sweetmeat-seller' s son, to make a rude remark to the native policeman on guard over rows of shoes at the Museum door. The big Punjabi grinned tolerantly: he knew Kim of old. So did the water-carrier, sluicing water on the dry road from his goat-skirt bag. So did Jawahir Singh, the Museum carpenter, bent over new packing-cases. So did everybody in sight except the peasants from the country, hurrying up to the Wonder House to view the things that men made in their own Province and elsewhere. The Museum was given up to Indian arts and manufactures, and anybody who sought wisdom could ask the curator to explain.
'Off! Off! Let me up! ' cried Abdullah, climbing up Zam-Zammah' s wheel.
'Thy father was a pastry-cook, Thy mother stole the ghi, ' sang Kim. ' All Mussalmans fell off Zam-Zammah long ago! '
'Let me up! ' shrilled little Chota Lal in his gilt-embroidered cap. His father was worth perhaps half a million sterling, but India is the only democratic land in the world.
'The Hindus fell off Zam-Zammah too. The Mussalmans pushed them off. Thy father was a pastry-cook—'
He stopped; for there shuffled round the corner, from the roaring Motee Bazar, such a man as Kim, who thought he knew all castes, had never seen. He was nearly six feet high, dressed in fold upon fold of dingy stuff like horse-blanketing, and not one fold of it could Kim refer to any known trade or profession. At his belt hung a long open-work iron pencase and a wooden rosary such as holy men wear. On his head was a gigantic sort of tam-o' -shanter. His face was yellow and wrinkled, like that of Fook Shing, the Chinese boot-maker in the bazar. His eyes turned up at the corners and looked like little slits of onyx.
'Who is that? ' said Kim to his companions.
'Perhaps it is a man, ' said Abdullah, finger in mouth, staring.
'Without doubt, ' returned Kim; ' but he is no man of India that I have ever seen.'
'A priest, perhaps, ' said Chota Lal, spying the rosary. 'See! He goes into the Wonder House! '
'Nay, nay, ' said the policeman, shaking his head. 'I do not understand your talk.' The constable spoke Punjabi. ' Oh, Friend of all the World, what does he say? '
'Send him hither' said Kim, dropping from Zam-Zammah, flourishing his bare heels. ' He is a foreigner, and thou art a buffalo.'
The man turned helplessly and drifted towards the boys. He was old, and his woollen gaberdine still reeked of the stinking artemisia of the mountain passes.
'O Children, what is that big house? ' he said in very fair Urdu.
'The Ajaib-Gher, the Wonder House! ' Kim gave him no title—such as Lala or Mian. He could not divine the man' s creed.
'Ah! The Wonder House! Can any enter? '
'It is written above the door—all can enter.'
'Without payment? '
'I go in and out. I am no banker, ' laughed Kim.
'Alas! I am an old man. I did not know.' Then, fingering his rosary, he half turned to the Museum.
'What is your caste? Where is your house? Have you come far? ' Kim asked.
'I came by Kulu—from beyond the Kailas—but what know you? From the hills where' —he sighed—' the air and water are fresh and cool.'
'Aha! Khitai' (a Chinaman), said Abdullah proudly. Fook Shing had once chased him out of his shop for spitting at the joss above the boots.
'Pahari? ' (a hillman), said little Chota Lal.
'Aye, child—a hillman from hills thou' lt never see. Didst hear of Bhotiyal (Tibet)? I am no Khitai, but a Bhotiya (Tibetan), since you must know—a lama—or, say a guru in your tongue.'
'A guru from Tibet, ' said Kim. ' I have not seen such a man. They be Hindus in Tibet, then? '
'We be followers of the Middle Way, living in peace in our lamasseries, and I go to see the Four Holy Places before I die. Now do you, who are children, know as much as I do who am old.' He smiled benignantly on the boys.
'Hast thou eaten? '
He fumbled in his bosom and drew forth a worn wooden begging-bowl. The boys nodded. All priests of their acquaintance begged.
'I do not wish to eat yet.' He turned his head like an old tortoise in the sunlight. ' Is it true that there are many images in the Wonder House of Lahore? ' He repeated the last words as one making sure of an address.
'That is true, ' said Abdullah. ' It is full of heathen buts. Thou also art an idolater.'
'Never mind him, ' said Kim. ' That is the Government' s house and there is no idolatry in it, but only a Sahib with a white beard. Come with me and I will show.'
'Strange priests eat boys, ' whispered Chota Lal.
'And he is a stranger and a but-parast' (idolater), said Abdullah, the Mohammedan.
Kim laughed. ' He is new. Run to your mothers' laps, and be safe. Come! '
Kim clicked round the self-registering turnstile; the old man followed and halted amazed. In the entrance-hall stood the larger figures of the Greco-Buddhist sculptures done, savants know how long since, by forgotten workmen whose hands were feeling, and not unskilfully, for the mysteriously transmitted Grecian touch. There were hundreds of pieces, friezes of figures in relief, fragments of statues and slabs crowded with figures that had encrusted the brick walls of the Buddhist stupas and viharas of the North Country and now, dug up and labelled, made the pride of the Museum. In open-mouthed wonder the lama turned to this and that, and finally checked in rapt attention before a large alto-relief representing a coronation or apotheosis of the Lord Buddha. The Master was represented seated on a lotus the petals of which were so deeply undercut as to show almost detached. Round Him was an adoring hierarchy of kings, elders, and old-time Buddhas. Below were lotus-covered waters with fishes and water-birds. Two butterfly-winged dewas held a wreath over His head; above them another pair supported an umbrella surmounted by the jewelled headdress of the Bodhisat.
'The Lord! The Lord! It is Sakya Muni himself, ' the lama half sobbed; and under his breath began the wonderful Buddhist invocation:—
'To Him the Way—the Law—Apart—Whom Maya held beneath her heart Ananda' s Lord—the Bodhisat.'
'And He is here! The Most Excellent Law is here also! My pilgrimage is well begun. And what work! What work! '
'Yonder is the Sahib, ' said Kim, and dodged sideways among the cases of the arts and manufacture wing. A white-bearded Englishman was looking at the lama, who gravely turned and saluted him and after
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