讀點(diǎn)好英文:To Rome by Pisa and Siena 經(jīng)比薩和錫耶納到羅馬

To Rome by Pisa and Siena 經(jīng)比薩和錫耶納到羅馬

Charles Dickens

There is nothing in Italy, more beautiful to me, than the coast-road between Genoa and Spezzia. On one side: sometimes far below, sometimes nearly on a level with the road, and often skirted by broken rocks of many shapes: there is the free blue sea, with here and there a picturesque felucca gliding slowly on; on the other side are lofty hills, ravines besprinkled with white cottages, patches of dark olive woods, country churches with their light open towers, and country houses gaily painted. On every bank and knoll by the wayside, the wild cactus and aloe flourish in exuberant profusion; and the gardens of the bright villages along the road, are seen, all blushing in the summer-time with clusters of the Belladonna, and are fragrant in the autumn and winter with golden oranges and lemons.

Some of the villages are inhabited, almost exclusively, by fishermen; and it is pleasant to see their great boats hauled up on the beach, making little patches of shade, where they lie asleep, or where the women and children sit romping and looking out to sea, while they mend their nets upon the shore. There is one town, Camoglia, with its little harbour on the sea, hundreds of feet below the road; where families of mariners live, who, time out of mind, have owned coasting-vessels in that place, and have traded to Spain and elsewhere. Seen from the road above, it is like a tiny model on the margin of the dimpled water, shining in the sun. Descended into, by the winding mule-tracks it is a perfect miniature of a primitive seafaring town; the saltest, roughest, most piratical little place that ever was seen. Great rusty iron rings and mooring-chains, capstans, and fragments of old masts and spars, choke up the way; hardy rough-weather boats, and seamen's clothing, flutter in the little harbour or are drawn out on the sunny stones to dry; on the parapet of the rude pier, a few amphibious-looking fellows lie asleep, with their legs dangling over the wall, as though earth or water were all one to them, and if they slipped in, they would float away, dozing comfortably among the fishes; the church is bright with trophies of the sea, and votive offerings, in commemoration of escape from storm and shipwreck. The dwellings not immediately abutting on the harbour are approached by blind low archways, and by crooked steps, as if in darkness and in difficulty of access they should be like holds of ships, or inconvenient cabins under water; and everywhere, there is a smell of fish, and sea-weed, and old rope.

The coast-road whence Camoglia is described so far below, is famous, in the warm season, especially in some parts near Genoa, for fire-flies. Walking there on a dark night, I have seen it made one sparkling firmament by these beautiful insects: so that the distant stars were pale against the flash and glitter that spangled every olive wood and hillside, and pervaded the whole air.

?It was not in such a season, however, that we traversed this road on our way to Rome. The middle of January was only just past, and it was very gloomy and dark weather; very wet besides. In crossing the fine pass of Bracco, we encountered such a storm of mist and rain, that we travelled in a cloud the whole way. There might have been no Mediterranean in the world, for anything that we saw of it there, except when a sudden gust of wind, clearing the mist before it, for a moment, showed the agitated sea at a great depth below, lashing the distant rocks and spouting up its foam furiously. The rain was incessant; every brook and torrent was greatly swollen; and such deafening leaping, and roaring, and thundering of water, I never heard the like of in my life.

Hence, when we came to Spezzia, we found that the Magra, an unbridged river on the high-road to Pisa, was too high to be safely crossed in the Ferry Boat, and were fain to wait until the afternoon of next day, when it had, in some degree, subsided. Spezzia, however, is a good place to tarry at; by reason, firstly, of its beautiful bay; secondly, of its ghostly Inn; thirdly, of the head-dress of the women, who wear, on one side of their head, a small doll's straw hat, stuck on to the hair; which is certainly the oddest and most roguish head-gear that ever was invested.

The Magra safely crossed in the Ferry Boat—the passage is not by any means agreeable, when the current is swollen and strong—we arrived at Carrara, within a few hours. In good time next morning, we got some ponies, and went out to see the marble quarries.

They are four or five great glens, running up into a range of lofty hills, until they can run no longer, and are stopped by being abruptly strangled by Nature. The quarries, or "caves," as they call them there, are so many openings, high up in the hills, on either side of these passes, where they blast and excavate for marble: which may turn out good or bad: may make a man's fortune very quickly, or ruin him by the great expens of working what is worth nothing. Some of these caves were opened by the ancient Romans, and remain as they left them to this hour. Many others are being worked at this moment; others are to be begun tomorrow, next week, next month; others are unbought, unthought of and marble enough for more ages man has passed since the place was restored to, lies hidden everywhere: patiently awaiting its time of discovery.

...

Carrara, shut in by great hills, is very picturesque and bold. Few tourists stay there; and the people are nearly all connected, in one way or another, with the working of marble. There are also villages among the caves, where the workmen live. It contains a beautiful little Theatre, newly built; and it is an interesting custom there, to form the chorus of labourers in the marble quarries, who are self-taught and sing by ear. I heard them in a comic opera, and in an act of "Norma"; and they acquitted themselves very well; unlike the common people of Italy generally, who (with some exceptions among the Neapolitans) sing vilely out of tune, and have very disagreeable singing writes.

From the summit of a lofty hill beyond Carrara, the first view of the fertile plain in which the town of Pisa lies—with Leghorn, a purple spot in the flat distance—is enchanting. Nor is it only distance that lends enchantment to the view; for the fruitful country, and rich woods of olivetrees through which the road subsequently passes, render it delightful.

The moon was shining when we approached Pisa, and for a long time we could see, behind the wall, the leaning Tower, all awry in the uncertain light; the shadowy original of the old pictures in school-books, setting forth "The Wonders of the World". Like most things connected in their first associations with school-books and school-times, it was too small. I felt it keenly. It was nothing like so high above the wall as I had hoped. It was another of the many deceptions practiced by Mr. Harris, Bookseller, at the corner of St. Paul's Churchyard, London. His Tower was a fiction, but this was a reality—and, by comparison, a short reality. Still, it looked very well, and very strange, and was quite as much out of the perpendicular as Harris had represented it to be. The quiet air of Pisa too; the big guard-house at the gate, with only two little soldiers in it; the streets with scarcely any show of people in them; and the Arno, flowing quaintly through the center of the town; were excellent. So, I bore no malice in my heart against Mr. Harris (remembering his good intentions), but forgave him before dinner, and went out, full of confidence, to see the Tower next morning.

I might have known better; but, somehow, I had expected to see it, casting its long shadow on a public street where people came and went all day. It was a surprise to me to find it in a grave retired place, apart from the general resort, and carpeted with smooth green turf. But, the group of buildings, clustered on and about this verdant carpet: comprising the Tower, the Baptistery, the Cathedral, and the Church of the Campo Santo: is perhaps the most remarkable and beautiful in the whole world; and from being clustered there, together, away from the ordinary transactions and details of the town, they have a singularly venerable and impressive character. It is the architectural essence of a rich old city, with all its common life and common habitations pressed out, and filtered away.

...

If Pisa be the seventh wonder of the world in right of its Tower, it may claim to be, at least, the second or third in right of its beggars. They waylay the unhappy visitor at every turn, escort him to every door he enters at, and lie in wait for him, with strong reinforcements, at every door by which they know he must come out. The grating of the portal on its hinges is the signal for a general shout, and the moment he appears, he is hemmed in, and fallen on, by heaps of rags and personal distortions. The beggars seem to embody all the trade and enterprise of Pisa. Nothing else is stirring, but warm air. Going through the streets, the fronts of the sleepy houses look like backs. They are all so still and quiet, and unlike houses with people in them, that the greater part of the city has the appearance of a city at daybreak, or during a general siesta of the population. Or it is yet more like those backgrounds of houses in common prints, or old engravings, where windows and doors are squarely indicated, and one figure (a beggar of course) is seen walking off by itself into illimitable perspective.

經(jīng)比薩和錫耶納到羅馬

［英］查爾斯·狄更斯

在我看來(lái)，位于熱那亞和斯培西亞之間的那條濱海大道，意大利再?zèng)]有什么可以與之相媲美的了。一面是奔騰的藍(lán)色海洋，它時(shí)而水位很低，時(shí)而幾乎與路面持平，海水的邊緣被碎石隔成許多不同的形狀，海面上還隨處有別致的三桅小帆船慢慢飄過(guò)。另一面則是高高的山丘，峽谷周圍布滿了白色的村舍，還有黑色的橄欖樹、鄉(xiāng)村教堂和它那明亮敞開的城堡，以及涂彩明快的莊園點(diǎn)綴。路旁的每處淺灘和小山上，生長(zhǎng)著茂盛的野生的仙人掌和蘆薈。沿路的明亮的莊園里，在夏日，可以看到一簇簇盛開的紅色顛茄花；而在秋、冬季節(jié)，金橘和檸檬的芳香溢滿莊園。

有些村莊，所有居住的村民幾乎都是漁民。他們被巨大的船只拖上海灘，形成一些蔭涼，漁民會(huì)躺在那里休息；婦女和孩子們坐在那里邊織網(wǎng)邊嬉鬧，遠(yuǎn)眺大海。看到這樣的情景會(huì)令你感覺很快樂。有一個(gè)叫卡莫格利亞的小鎮(zhèn)，它的小海港在大路下面數(shù)百英尺的地方。水手們的家就在那里。很久以前，他們擁有那里的沿海貿(mào)易船只，與西班牙和其他地方進(jìn)行貿(mào)易往來(lái)。從大路上看去，小海港就像是泛著漣漪的大海邊緣上的一個(gè)小模型，在陽(yáng)光的照射下閃著光芒。沿著蜿蜒的騾車道下去，你會(huì)發(fā)現(xiàn)它是一個(gè)原始航海小鎮(zhèn)完美的縮影，那將是你生平所見的最有咸味、最粗野、最具海盜氣息的小地方。大量銹蝕的鐵環(huán)、錨索、絞盤和舊船桅的斷片和碎屑堆滿了道路。飽經(jīng)風(fēng)浪的船只和水手的衣服，或是在小海港中擺動(dòng)，或是鋪在陽(yáng)光下的石頭上晾干。在粗糙的碼頭護(hù)墻上，幾個(gè)像兩棲動(dòng)物一樣的家伙正躺在那里睡覺。他們的腿懸掛在墻外，似乎對(duì)他們來(lái)說(shuō)無(wú)所謂水與陸。如果掉入水中，他們就漂走，在魚兒們之間舒服地瞌睡一會(huì)。海上戰(zhàn)利品和祭祀的貢品醒目地?cái)[在教堂里，這是為了紀(jì)念水手們從暴風(fēng)雨和船難中的逃生。水手們的房屋不是直接與海港相接，而是通過(guò)隱蔽而低矮的拱門和彎曲的臺(tái)階逐步接近，如同在黑暗和艱難中，他們摸索進(jìn)入船艙或不便的水下房倉(cāng)的通道一樣。到處是魚腥味、海藻和破繩索。

從濱海大道可以遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)地看到下面的卡莫格利亞。溫暖的季節(jié)里，卡莫格利亞，尤其是熱那亞附近的那些地方，以螢火蟲而出名。漆黑的夜晚在那里漫步，我看到那些美麗的昆蟲使天空閃閃發(fā)光：那閃爍的光芒點(diǎn)綴了每片橄欖樹林和每座小山丘，照亮了整個(gè)天空，連遠(yuǎn)處的星星也黯然失色。

然而，在我們前往羅馬經(jīng)過(guò)這里時(shí)，卻沒趕上這樣的季節(jié)。此時(shí)正值一月中旬，天氣陰郁，還很潮濕。在橫越美麗的伯拉科關(guān)口時(shí)，我們?cè)庥隽藵忪F和暴風(fēng)雨，以至于整個(gè)旅途都是陰郁的天氣。我們根本看不到地中海的存在，只有突然的一陣狂風(fēng)吹走眼前濃霧的那一刻，才能看到下面很深的澎湃海水，抽打著遠(yuǎn)處的巖石，猛烈地噴出它的泡沫。雨不停地下著，每一條小溪和急流都迅速地漲起來(lái)，這樣震耳欲聾的撞擊聲、咆哮聲和轟鳴聲，是我從未聽到過(guò)的。

當(dāng)我們到達(dá)斯培西亞時(shí)，發(fā)現(xiàn)馬格拉河水位太高，以至于乘渡船不能安全過(guò)河。馬格拉河上又沒有通往比薩的橋梁。于是，我們欣然接受了事實(shí)，等第二天下午水勢(shì)稍平時(shí)再過(guò)河。不過(guò)，斯培西亞卻是個(gè)滯留的好地方。首先是因?yàn)樗敲利惖暮?，其次是恐怖的客棧，最后則是那里女性的頭飾。女人們?cè)陬^的一側(cè)，都佩戴一頂玩偶草帽，這種草帽的確是那種最怪異、最頑皮的設(shè)計(jì)。

我們乘渡船安全地渡過(guò)了馬格拉河——當(dāng)水流湍急、河水上漲時(shí)，渡河一點(diǎn)也不令人愜意——數(shù)小時(shí)后，我們到達(dá)卡拉拉。第二天早上，我們找來(lái)了幾匹小馬去參觀采石場(chǎng)。

采石場(chǎng)從四五個(gè)巨大的峽谷，向上一直延伸到一群高山上，直到被大自然的鬼斧神工擋住去路，不能再延伸為止。采石場(chǎng)，或者當(dāng)?shù)厝藗兯^的“窯洞”，其實(shí)就是在山上的很多洞穴。人們可以在這些洞穴中的任何一個(gè)洞口爆炸，開鑿大理石。這種開采運(yùn)氣可好可壞，它可以使一個(gè)人暴富，也可以使一個(gè)人傾其所有，血本無(wú)歸。這些山洞有些是古羅馬人開采的，至今仍保留著被遺棄時(shí)的樣子；另外有許多山洞是新近開采的；有一些可能會(huì)在明天、下周、下個(gè)月開始開采；還有的尚未被人承包，未被考慮到。自這里被修復(fù)以來(lái)，就有足夠多的大理石隱藏在各處，供未來(lái)的人開采：耐心地等待被發(fā)現(xiàn)的時(shí)刻。

卡拉拉城為群山環(huán)抱，風(fēng)景獨(dú)特，地勢(shì)險(xiǎn)峻。很少會(huì)有游客在那里逗留。這里的人，或多或少幾乎都與大理石開采相關(guān)聯(lián)。有些村莊也坐落在這些石窟中，開采大理石的人就住在那里。村里還有一座漂亮的小劇院，是不久前剛剛建成的。在那里有一個(gè)有趣的習(xí)俗，就是組建采石場(chǎng)的工人合唱隊(duì)。他們都是自學(xué)歌曲，靠耳朵辨音唱歌。我聽過(guò)他們?cè)诿麨椤吨Z瑪》幽默劇中的演唱，他們能將自己的情懷表達(dá)得淋漓盡致，通常也不會(huì)像普通的意大利人（除了某些那不勒斯人之外）那樣唱歌跑調(diào)，不堪入耳。

從卡拉拉之外的一座高山的頂部，第一眼看到的肥沃平原——比薩鎮(zhèn)的所在地——更是迷人。而來(lái)亨卻只是遠(yuǎn)處平原上的紫色斑點(diǎn)。并不僅僅是距離才成就這種迷人的風(fēng)景，還有那豐饒的物產(chǎn)，大量的橄欖樹林，和蜿蜒于林間的道路，都給人賞心悅目的感覺。

到達(dá)比薩時(shí)已是深夜。在好長(zhǎng)的一段時(shí)間里，我們都能看到圍墻后面的斜塔，在朦朧的月光中更顯得傾斜。這就是教科書中古老圖片的陰影原形，正向世人展示著“世界奇跡”。與很多教科書、學(xué)生時(shí)代初次相關(guān)聯(lián)的事物一樣，它太渺小了。我對(duì)此的感受十分強(qiáng)烈，想象中的城堡能高出圍墻許多，這與我的想象迥然不同。書商哈里斯先生在倫敦圣保羅教堂一角售書，這是他的另一個(gè)詭計(jì)。他所說(shuō)的斜塔是編造出來(lái)的，眼前的這個(gè)斜塔才是真實(shí)的。而且相比較而言，現(xiàn)實(shí)中的斜塔比虛構(gòu)的還要矮一截。盡管如此，它看上去卻很出色，很特別，傾斜的程度與哈里斯所說(shuō)的完全一樣。比薩也很安靜；門口的警衛(wèi)室里只有兩個(gè)小士兵在執(zhí)勤；街上的行人很是罕見；亞諾河優(yōu)雅地流過(guò)城鎮(zhèn)中心……這一切都那么美好。我心里對(duì)哈里斯先生并無(wú)半點(diǎn)怨恨之意（只記得他的好意），于是在晚飯前就原諒了他。然后第二天一早，又滿懷信心地去看斜塔了。

我本應(yīng)對(duì)斜塔了解甚詳?shù)?，可是我想象中的斜塔卻是這樣的：它將倒影落在大街上，在那里人們終日來(lái)來(lái)去去。我驚訝地發(fā)現(xiàn)，斜塔是在一座荒舊的墓地里，這與一般的觀光勝地不同；塔的四周有郁郁蔥蔥的草地；草地四周有一些建筑群，其中有斜塔、洗禮堂、大教堂、圣廣場(chǎng)教堂。或許，圣廣場(chǎng)教堂是世界上最雄偉的、最顯著的建筑物。它們都坐落于此，遠(yuǎn)離世俗與城市的喧囂，給人異乎尋常的莊嚴(yán)和肅穆。它們是絕經(jīng)滄桑的古老城市的建筑精華，滲透并濃縮了老城中的平凡生活和平凡居所。

如果比薩因其斜塔成為世界第七大奇觀，那么，因其乞丐之多至少也可位居第二或第三了。乞丐們會(huì)在每一個(gè)拐彎處圍截不幸的游客，一直尾隨他進(jìn)門；然后在每一扇他有可能出來(lái)的門外，就會(huì)有更多的乞丐等他。門嘎吱聲響起時(shí)，就是總攻的信號(hào)，他出來(lái)的那一刻已被乞丐們包圍，落入衣衫襤褸、身體畸形的乞丐們手中。似乎乞丐遍及比薩的所有貿(mào)易和行業(yè)。除了暖風(fēng)，一切都是靜止的。走過(guò)街道，你會(huì)發(fā)現(xiàn)，那些了無(wú)生氣的房屋的前門與后院沒什么分別。它們都是那樣的靜寂，就像是無(wú)人居住的房屋一樣。城市里更多的是像拂曉時(shí)分的景象，或是人們午睡時(shí)的樣子?；蛘撸鼈兏衲切┏Ｒ娮x物或舊雕版圖上的背景屋舍，門窗都是方形的，一個(gè)身影（當(dāng)然是個(gè)乞丐）正從那里走開，向遠(yuǎn)方走去。

實(shí)戰(zhàn)提升

Practising & Exercise

導(dǎo)讀

查爾斯·狄更斯（Charles Dickens），英國(guó)維多利亞時(shí)期的著名小說(shuō)家。在英國(guó)文學(xué)史上，狄更斯是一顆最為光彩照人的明星。從小飽嘗人間艱辛的狄更斯最同情勞苦人民和孤苦無(wú)依的孩子。他憑借勤奮和天賦創(chuàng)作出了一大批經(jīng)典著作。他也是一位幽默大師，常常用妙趣橫生的語(yǔ)言在浪漫和現(xiàn)實(shí)中講述人間真相。

核心單詞

skirt [sk??t] n. 裙子；襯裙

knoll [n?ul] n. 圓丘，小丘

primitive [?primitiv] adj. 原始的；遠(yuǎn)古的

furiously [?fju?ri?sli] adv. 狂怒地；狂暴地；猛烈地

quarry [?kw?ri] n. （采）石場(chǎng)；露天礦場(chǎng)

abruptly [??br?ptli] adv. 突然地；意外地

quaintly [kweintli] adv. 離奇有趣地；奇怪地

portal [?p??t?l] n. 門，正門；入口

illimitable [i?limit?bl] adj. 無(wú)限的；無(wú)邊際的；無(wú)窮的

翻譯

Seen from the road above, it is like a tiny model on the margin of the dimpled water, shining in the sun.

It was not in such a season, however, that we traversed this road on our way to Rome.

Nothing else is stirring, but warm air.