蔣素華

《最高貴的樂器》（“The Noblest Instrument”）是美國著名作家克勞倫斯·戴伊（Clarence Day， 1874—1935）最著名的自傳體作品《與父親一起生活的日子》（Life with Father）中的一篇。作者的父親老克勞倫斯很重視兒子們的教育，包括音樂教育。有一天，老克勞倫斯決定開始讓作者學(xué)小提琴，并請了德國老師M先生為他授課。

從此以后全家人不得不忍受作者練琴時發(fā)出的難聽的聲音，更悲慘的是整條街道的人都被迫聽他從地下室里發(fā)出的殺雞宰鴨般的練琴聲。作者不想學(xué)下去了，他母親也受不了了，她把鄰居的抱怨轉(zhuǎn)達(dá)給丈夫，并懇求他讓兒子停止拉琴。但父親卻不肯退讓，也不愿意接受事實(shí)，因?yàn)榻邮苁聦?shí)就意味著認(rèn)輸……

A ll during the long winter months I worked away at this job. I gave no thought， of course， to the family. But they did to me. Our house was heated by a furnace（火爐，暖氣爐）， which had big warm air pipes； these ran up through the walls with wide outlets into each room， and sound traveled easily and ringingly through their roomy， tin passages. My violin could be heard in every part of the house. No one could settle down to anything while I was practicing. If visitors came they soon left. Mother couldnt even sing to the baby. She would wait， watching the clock， until my long hour of scale-work was over， and then come downstairs and shriek（尖聲叫喊）at me that my time was up. She would find me sawing away（拉琴弓）with my forehead wet， and my hair wet and stringy（因汗水打濕頭發(fā)，變得一綹一綹的）， and even my clothes slowly getting damp from my exertions（努力）. She would feel my collar， which was done for， and say I must change it. “Oh， Mother！ Please！”—for I was in a hurry now to run out and play. But she wasnt being fussy（過分挑剔的）about my collar， I can see， looking back； she was using it merely as a barometer（氣壓計，晴雨表）or gauge（測量儀器，判斷標(biāo)準(zhǔn)）of my pores（毛孔）. She thought I had better dry myself before going out in the snow.

It was hard winter for Mother. I believe she also had fears for the baby. She sometimes pleaded with（向……懇求）Father； but no one could ever tell Father anything. He continued to stand like a rock against stopping my lessons.

Schopenhauer*， in his rules for debating， shows how to win a weak case by insidiously（陰險地）transferring an argument from its right field（從右外場，有利位置）， and discussing it instead from some irrelevant but impregnable（無法攻取的）angle. Father knew nothing of Schopenhaur， and was never insidious， but， nevertheless， he had certain natural gifts for debate. In the first place his voice was powerful and stormy， and he let it out at full strength， and kept on letting it out with a vigor that stunned his opponents（使對手震驚）. As a second gift， he was convinced at all times that his opponents were wrong. Hence， even if they did win a point or two， it did them no good， for he dragged the issue to some other ground（把爭論的問題扯到別的地方）then， where he and Truth could prevail（獲勝）. When Mother said it surely was plain（顯而易見的）enough that I had no ear， what was his reply？ Why， he said that the violin was the noblest instrument invented by man. Having silenced her with this solid premise（前提，假定）he declared that it followed that any boy was lucky to be given the privilege of learning to play it. No boy should expect to learn it immediately. It required persistence. Everything， he had found， required persistence. The motto was， Never give up.

All his life， he declared， he had persevered（堅(jiān)持不懈）in spite of discouragement， and he meant to keep on persevering， and he had had to go through. If he had been the kind that gave up at the very first obstacle， where would he have been now—where would any of the family have been？ The answer was， apparently， that wed either have been in a very bad way， poking round for crusts in the gutter（在陰溝里找面包屑）， or else nonexistent. We might have never even been born if Father had not persevered.

Placed beside this record of Fathers vast trials， overcome the little difficulty of my learning to play the violin seemed a trifle（不足掛齒）. I faithfully spurred myself on（激勵自己繼續(xù)學(xué)琴）again， to work at the puzzle. Even my teacher seemed impressed with these views on persistence. Though older than Father， he had had certainly not made as much money， and he bowed to（順從）the experience of a practical man who was a success. If he， Herr M.， had been a success he would not have had to teach boys； and sitting in this black pit in which his need of money had placed him， he saw more than ever that he must learn the ways of this world. He listened with all his heart， as to a god， when Father shook his forefinger， and told him how to climb to the heights where financial rewards were achieved. The idea he got was that perseverance was sure to lead to great wealth.

Consequently our front basement continued to be the home of lost causes（注定要失敗的事業(yè)）.

Of course， I kept begging Herr M. to let me learn just one tune. Even though I seldom could whistle them， still I liked tunes； and I knew that， in my hours of practicing， a tune would be a comfort. That is， for myself. Here again I never gave a thought to the effect upon others.

Herr M.， after many misgivings（疑慮）， to which I respectfully listened—though they were not spoken to me， they were muttered（嘀咕）to himself， pessimistically（悲觀地）—hunted through a worn old book of selections， and after much doubtful fumbling（說話支支吾吾的）chose as simple a thing as he could find for me—for me and the neighbors.

It was spring now， and windows were open. That tune became famous.

What would the musician who had tenderly composed this air（曲調(diào)）， years before， have felt if he had foreseen what an end it would have， on Madison Avenue； and how， before death， it would be execrated（詛咒，痛罵）by that once peaceful neighborhood. I engraved（深深印刻）it on their hearts； not in its true form but in my own eerie（怪異的）versions. It was the only tune I knew. Consequently I played it and replayed it.

Even horrors when repeated grow old and lost part of their sting（刺痛）. But those I produced were， unluckily， never the same. To be sure， this tune kept its general structure the same， even in my sweating hands. There was always the place where I climbed unsteadily up to its peak， and that difficult spot where it wavered（搖曳）， or staggered， and stuck； and then a sudden jerk（抽搐，形容作者拉出來的琴聲）of resumption（重新開始）—I came out strong on that. Every afternoon when I got to that difficult spot， the neighbors dropped whatever they were doing to wait for that jerk， shrinking from the moment， and yet feverishly（狂熱地）impatient for it to come.

But what made the tune and their anguish（痛苦）so different each day？ Ill explain. The strings of a violin are wound（纏繞）at the end around pegs（琴栓）， and each peg must be screwed in（旋入）and tightened till the string sounds just right. Herr M. left my violin properly tuned when he went. But suppose a string broke， or that somehow I jarred a peg loose（把琴栓震松了）. Its string then became slack（松弛）and soundless. I had to re-tighten it. Not having an ear， I was highly uncertain about this.

Our neighbors never knew at what degree of tautness（緊度）Id put such a string. I didnt myself. I just screwed her up tight enough to make a strong reliable sound. Neither they nor I could tell which string would thus appear in a new role each day， nor foresee the profound transformations this would produce in that tune（因某根弦的松緊程度而使這根弦上的音改變多少）.

All that spring this unhappy and ill-destined melody floated out through my window， and writhed（翻滾）in the air for one hour daily， in sunshine or storm. All that spring our neighbors and I daily toiled to（艱難地前進(jìn)）its peak， and staggered over its hump（完成最困難的部分）， so to speak， and fell wailing（哀嚎地）through space.

Things now began to be said to Mother which drove her to act. She explained to Father that the end had come at last. Absolutely. “This awful nightmare cannot go on，” she said.

Father pooh-poohed（藐視）her.

She cried. She told him what it was doing to her. He said that she was excited， and that her descriptions of the sounds I made were exaggerated and hysterical（歇斯底里的）—must be. She was always too vehement（激烈的）， he shouted. She must learn to be calm.

“But youre downtown（在市中心）， you dont have to hear it！”

Father remained wholly skeptical.

She endeavored（試圖）to shame him. She told him what awful things the neighbors were saying about him， because of the noise I was making， for which he was responsible.

He couldnt be made to look at it that way. If there really were any unpleasantness then I was responsible. He had provided me with a good teacher and a good violin—so he reasoned. In short， he had done his best， and no father could have done more. If I made hideous（可怕的）sounds after all that， the fault must be mine. He said that Mother should be stricter with me， if necessary， and make me try harder.

This was the last straw（使人無法忍受的最后一擊）. I couldnt try harder. When Mother told me his verdict（最后決定）I said nothing， but my body rebelled. Self-discipline had its limits—and I wanted to be out： it was spring. I skimped（克扣）my hours of practice when I heard the fellows playing outside. I came home late for lessons—even forgot them. Little by little they stopped.

Father was outraged. His final argument， I remember， was that my violin had cost twenty-five dollars； if I didnt learn it the money would be wasted， and he couldnt afford it. But it was put to him that my younger brother， Julian， could learn it instead， later on. Then summer came， anyhow， and we went for three months to the seashore； and in the confusion of this Father was defeated and I was set free.

In the autumn little Julian was led away one afternoon， and imprisoned in the front basement in my place. I dont remember how long they kept him down there， but it was several years. He had an ear， however， and I believe he learned to play fairly well. This would have made a happy ending for Herr M. after all； but it was some other teacher， a younger man， who was engaged to teach Julian. Father said Herr M. was a failure.