读点好英文:To Rome by Pisa and Siena 经比萨和锡耶纳到罗马

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2022年04月22日

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To Rome by Pisa and Siena 经比萨和锡耶纳到罗马

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.

经比萨和锡耶纳到罗马

［英］查尔斯·狄更斯

在我看来，位于热那亚和斯培西亚之间的那条滨海大道，意大利再没有什么可以与之相媲美的了。一面是奔腾的蓝色海洋，它时而水位很低，时而几乎与路面持平，海水的边缘被碎石隔成许多不同的形状，海面上还随处有别致的三桅小帆船慢慢飘过。另一面则是高高的山丘，峡谷周围布满了白色的村舍，还有黑色的橄榄树、乡村教堂和它那明亮敞开的城堡，以及涂彩明快的庄园点缀。路旁的每处浅滩和小山上，生长着茂盛的野生的仙人掌和芦荟。沿路的明亮的庄园里，在夏日，可以看到一簇簇盛开的红色颠茄花；而在秋、冬季节，金橘和柠檬的芳香溢满庄园。

有些村庄，所有居住的村民几乎都是渔民。他们被巨大的船只拖上海滩，形成一些荫凉，渔民会躺在那里休息；妇女和孩子们坐在那里边织网边嬉闹，远眺大海。看到这样的情景会令你感觉很快乐。有一个叫卡莫格利亚的小镇，它的小海港在大路下面数百英尺的地方。水手们的家就在那里。很久以前，他们拥有那里的沿海贸易船只，与西班牙和其他地方进行贸易往来。从大路上看去，小海港就像是泛着涟漪的大海边缘上的一个小模型，在阳光的照射下闪着光芒。沿着蜿蜒的骡车道下去，你会发现它是一个原始航海小镇完美的缩影，那将是你生平所见的最有咸味、最粗野、最具海盗气息的小地方。大量锈蚀的铁环、锚索、绞盘和旧船桅的断片和碎屑堆满了道路。饱经风浪的船只和水手的衣服，或是在小海港中摆动，或是铺在阳光下的石头上晾干。在粗糙的码头护墙上，几个像两栖动物一样的家伙正躺在那里睡觉。他们的腿悬挂在墙外，似乎对他们来说无所谓水与陆。如果掉入水中，他们就漂走，在鱼儿们之间舒服地瞌睡一会。海上战利品和祭祀的贡品醒目地摆在教堂里，这是为了纪念水手们从暴风雨和船难中的逃生。水手们的房屋不是直接与海港相接，而是通过隐蔽而低矮的拱门和弯曲的台阶逐步接近，如同在黑暗和艰难中，他们摸索进入船舱或不便的水下房仓的通道一样。到处是鱼腥味、海藻和破绳索。

从滨海大道可以远远地看到下面的卡莫格利亚。温暖的季节里，卡莫格利亚，尤其是热那亚附近的那些地方，以萤火虫而出名。漆黑的夜晚在那里漫步，我看到那些美丽的昆虫使天空闪闪发光：那闪烁的光芒点缀了每片橄榄树林和每座小山丘，照亮了整个天空，连远处的星星也黯然失色。

然而，在我们前往罗马经过这里时，却没赶上这样的季节。此时正值一月中旬，天气阴郁，还很潮湿。在横越美丽的伯拉科关口时，我们遭遇了浓雾和暴风雨，以至于整个旅途都是阴郁的天气。我们根本看不到地中海的存在，只有突然的一阵狂风吹走眼前浓雾的那一刻，才能看到下面很深的澎湃海水，抽打着远处的岩石，猛烈地喷出它的泡沫。雨不停地下着，每一条小溪和急流都迅速地涨起来，这样震耳欲聋的撞击声、咆哮声和轰鸣声，是我从未听到过的。

当我们到达斯培西亚时，发现马格拉河水位太高，以至于乘渡船不能安全过河。马格拉河上又没有通往比萨的桥梁。于是，我们欣然接受了事实，等第二天下午水势稍平时再过河。不过，斯培西亚却是个滞留的好地方。首先是因为它那美丽的海湾，其次是恐怖的客栈，最后则是那里女性的头饰。女人们在头的一侧，都佩戴一顶玩偶草帽，这种草帽的确是那种最怪异、最顽皮的设计。

我们乘渡船安全地渡过了马格拉河——当水流湍急、河水上涨时，渡河一点也不令人惬意——数小时后，我们到达卡拉拉。第二天早上，我们找来了几匹小马去参观采石场。

采石场从四五个巨大的峡谷，向上一直延伸到一群高山上，直到被大自然的鬼斧神工挡住去路，不能再延伸为止。采石场，或者当地人们所谓的“窑洞”，其实就是在山上的很多洞穴。人们可以在这些洞穴中的任何一个洞口爆炸，开凿大理石。这种开采运气可好可坏，它可以使一个人暴富，也可以使一个人倾其所有，血本无归。这些山洞有些是古罗马人开采的，至今仍保留着被遗弃时的样子；另外有许多山洞是新近开采的；有一些可能会在明天、下周、下个月开始开采；还有的尚未被人承包，未被考虑到。自这里被修复以来，就有足够多的大理石隐藏在各处，供未来的人开采：耐心地等待被发现的时刻。

卡拉拉城为群山环抱，风景独特，地势险峻。很少会有游客在那里逗留。这里的人，或多或少几乎都与大理石开采相关联。有些村庄也坐落在这些石窟中，开采大理石的人就住在那里。村里还有一座漂亮的小剧院，是不久前刚刚建成的。在那里有一个有趣的习俗，就是组建采石场的工人合唱队。他们都是自学歌曲，靠耳朵辨音唱歌。我听过他们在名为《诺玛》幽默剧中的演唱，他们能将自己的情怀表达得淋漓尽致，通常也不会像普通的意大利人（除了某些那不勒斯人之外）那样唱歌跑调，不堪入耳。

从卡拉拉之外的一座高山的顶部，第一眼看到的肥沃平原——比萨镇的所在地——更是迷人。而来亨却只是远处平原上的紫色斑点。并不仅仅是距离才成就这种迷人的风景，还有那丰饶的物产，大量的橄榄树林，和蜿蜒于林间的道路，都给人赏心悦目的感觉。

到达比萨时已是深夜。在好长的一段时间里，我们都能看到围墙后面的斜塔，在朦胧的月光中更显得倾斜。这就是教科书中古老图片的阴影原形，正向世人展示着“世界奇迹”。与很多教科书、学生时代初次相关联的事物一样，它太渺小了。我对此的感受十分强烈，想象中的城堡能高出围墙许多，这与我的想象迥然不同。书商哈里斯先生在伦敦圣保罗教堂一角售书，这是他的另一个诡计。他所说的斜塔是编造出来的，眼前的这个斜塔才是真实的。而且相比较而言，现实中的斜塔比虚构的还要矮一截。尽管如此，它看上去却很出色，很特别，倾斜的程度与哈里斯所说的完全一样。比萨也很安静；门口的警卫室里只有两个小士兵在执勤；街上的行人很是罕见；亚诺河优雅地流过城镇中心……这一切都那么美好。我心里对哈里斯先生并无半点怨恨之意（只记得他的好意），于是在晚饭前就原谅了他。然后第二天一早，又满怀信心地去看斜塔了。

我本应对斜塔了解甚详的，可是我想象中的斜塔却是这样的：它将倒影落在大街上，在那里人们终日来来去去。我惊讶地发现，斜塔是在一座荒旧的墓地里，这与一般的观光胜地不同；塔的四周有郁郁葱葱的草地；草地四周有一些建筑群，其中有斜塔、洗礼堂、大教堂、圣广场教堂。或许，圣广场教堂是世界上最雄伟的、最显著的建筑物。它们都坐落于此，远离世俗与城市的喧嚣，给人异乎寻常的庄严和肃穆。它们是绝经沧桑的古老城市的建筑精华，渗透并浓缩了老城中的平凡生活和平凡居所。

如果比萨因其斜塔成为世界第七大奇观，那么，因其乞丐之多至少也可位居第二或第三了。乞丐们会在每一个拐弯处围截不幸的游客，一直尾随他进门；然后在每一扇他有可能出来的门外，就会有更多的乞丐等他。门嘎吱声响起时，就是总攻的信号，他出来的那一刻已被乞丐们包围，落入衣衫褴褛、身体畸形的乞丐们手中。似乎乞丐遍及比萨的所有贸易和行业。除了暖风，一切都是静止的。走过街道，你会发现，那些了无生气的房屋的前门与后院没什么分别。它们都是那样的静寂，就像是无人居住的房屋一样。城市里更多的是像拂晓时分的景象，或是人们午睡时的样子。或者，它们更像那些常见读物或旧雕版图上的背景屋舍，门窗都是方形的，一个身影（当然是个乞丐）正从那里走开，向远方走去。

实战提升

Practising & Exercise

导读

查尔斯·狄更斯（Charles Dickens），英国维多利亚时期的著名小说家。在英国文学史上，狄更斯是一颗最为光彩照人的明星。从小饱尝人间艰辛的狄更斯最同情劳苦人民和孤苦无依的孩子。他凭借勤奋和天赋创作出了一大批经典著作。他也是一位幽默大师，常常用妙趣横生的语言在浪漫和现实中讲述人间真相。

核心单词

skirt [skəːt] n. 裙子；衬裙

knoll [nəul] n. 圆丘，小丘

primitive [ˈprimitiv] adj. 原始的；远古的

furiously [ˈfjuəriəsli] adv. 狂怒地；狂暴地；猛烈地

quarry [ˈkwɔri] n. （采）石场；露天矿场

abruptly [əˈbrʌptli] adv. 突然地；意外地

quaintly [kweintli] adv. 离奇有趣地；奇怪地