It was in vain that the grown-ups warned us against the fascinations8 of his society, telling us that dreamers came to no good end in a practical world. As well might the townsfolk of Hamelin, in Brunswick, have ordered their children to turn a deaf ear to the tune3 of the Pied Piper. We had studied life from a practical point of view between our games, and found it unsatisfying; this man brought us something infinitely9 more desirable. He would come stepping with delicate feet, fearful of trampling10 on our own tender dreams, and he would tell us the enchanted11 stories that we had not heard since we were born. He told us the meaning of the stars and the significance of the sun and moon; and, listening to him, we remembered that we had known it all once before in another place. Sometimes even we would remind him of some trivial incident that he had p. 27forgotten, and then he would look at us oddly and murmur12 sadly that he was getting very old. When the stories were over, and all the room was still ringing with beautiful echoes, he would stand erect13 and ask us fiercely whether we saw any straws in his hair. We would climb up him to look (for he was very tall), and when we told him that we could not find any he would say: “The day you see them there will be no more stories.” We knew what the stories were worth to us, so we were always afraid of looking at his head for fear that we should see the straws and all our gladdest hours should be finished.
His voice was all the music extant, and it was only by recalling it that our young ears could find that there was beauty in fine singing and melodiousness14 in the chaunt of birds. Yet when his words were eloquent we forgot the voice and the speaker, content to sacrifice our critical individualities to his inspiration till we were no more than dim and silent figures in the background of his tale. It was only in winter-time that he achieved this supreme15 illusion; perhaps the p. 28firelight helped him, and the chill shadows of the world. In the summer his stories had the witchery of dreams; their realism startled us, and yet we knew that they were not real. After listening to them through a hot afternoon we would stretch back into consciousness, as though we had been asleep; his drowsy16 fancies lulled17 our personalities18, but did not conquer them. The winter magic was of a rarer kind. Then even his silences became significant, for he brought us to so close an intimacy19 with his mind that his very thoughts seemed like words.
It is idle to expect a child to believe that every grown-up person was a child once upon a time, for it is not credible20 that they could have forgotten so much. But this man was a child both in feeling and in understanding. He knew the incidents that perplexed21 us in those nursery legends that have become classics, and sometimes it was his pleasure to tell them to us again, having regard to our wakeful sympathies. He was the friend of all the poor, lost creatures of romance—the giants whose humiliating lot it was to be defeated by any stripling lad, p. 29the dragons whose flaming strength was a derision when opposed to virtue22 in armour23. He shared our pity for Ant?us and Caliban and Goliath of Gath, and even treated sorcerers and wicked kings with reasonable humanity. Somehow, though we felt that it was wicked, we could not help being sorry for people when they were punished very severely24. The very ease with which giants could be outwitted suggested that the great simple fellows might prove amiable25 enough if they were kindly26 treated, while it was always possible that dragons might turn out to be bewitched princes, if only the beautiful princesses would kiss them instead of sending heroes to kill them unfairly, without giving them an opportunity of explaining their motives27. Our story-teller understood our scruples28 and sympathised with them, and in his versions every one had a chance, whether they were heroes or no. Even the best children are sometimes cruel, but they are never half so pitiless as the writers of fairy-stories.
But better than any fairy-stories were the stories that he told us of our own lives, p. 30which under his touch became the wonderful adventures which they really were. He showed us that it was marvellous to get out of bed in the morning, and marvellous to get into bed at night. He made us realise the imaginative value of common things, and the fun that could be derived29 even from the performance of duties, by aid of a little make-believe. The grown-up folk would probably have derided30 his system, but he made us tolerate our lessons, and endure the pangs31 of toothache with some degree of fortitude32. He had a short way with the ugly bogies with which thoughtless nurses and chance echoes from the horrors columns of newspapers had peopled the shadows of our life. We were no longer afraid of the dark when he had told us how friendly it could be to the distressed33. Hitherto we had vainly sought to find the colours and sounds of romance in life, and, failing, had been tempted34 to sum up the whole business as tedious. After he had shown us how to do it, it was easy to see that life itself was a story as romantic as we cared to make it. Our daily official walks became p. 31gallant expeditions, and we approached arithmetic with a flaming sword.
Can any childhood ever have known a greater wizard than this? And yet since that state does not endure for ever, it must surely have happened to us to seek for straws in his towering head once too often, had not death taken our kindly enchanter from our company, and thus spared us the bitter discovery that the one man who reconciled us to life was considered rather more than eccentric by an obtuse35 world. It is true that we noticed that the grown-up people were apt to treat him sometimes as if he were one of us, but we felt that he merited this distinction, and did not find it strange. Nor did we wonder that he should tell stories aloud to himself lacking a wider audience, for we knew that if we had the power we should tell such stories to ourselves all day long. We did not only fail to realise that he was mad; we knew that he was the only reasonable creature of adult years who ever came near us. He understood us and paid us the supreme compliment of allowing us to understand him. The world called him p. 32fantastic for actions that convinced us that he was wise, and, thanks to a fate that seemed at the time insensately cruel, the spell was never broken.
点击收听单词发音
1 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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2 eloquent | |
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
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3 tune | |
n.调子;和谐,协调;v.调音,调节,调整 | |
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4 sensuous | |
adj.激发美感的;感官的,感觉上的 | |
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5 languorous | |
adj.怠惰的,没精打采的 | |
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6 abdicated | |
放弃(职责、权力等)( abdicate的过去式和过去分词 ); 退位,逊位 | |
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7 authentic | |
a.真的,真正的;可靠的,可信的,有根据的 | |
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8 fascinations | |
n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 );有魅力的东西;迷恋;陶醉 | |
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9 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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10 trampling | |
踩( trample的现在分词 ); 践踏; 无视; 侵犯 | |
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11 enchanted | |
adj. 被施魔法的,陶醉的,入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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12 murmur | |
n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
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13 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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14 melodiousness | |
n.melodious(音调悦耳的)的变形 | |
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15 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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16 drowsy | |
adj.昏昏欲睡的,令人发困的 | |
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17 lulled | |
vt.使镇静,使安静(lull的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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18 personalities | |
n. 诽谤,(对某人容貌、性格等所进行的)人身攻击; 人身攻击;人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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19 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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20 credible | |
adj.可信任的,可靠的 | |
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21 perplexed | |
adj.不知所措的 | |
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22 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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23 armour | |
(=armor)n.盔甲;装甲部队 | |
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24 severely | |
adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
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25 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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26 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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27 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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28 scruples | |
n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 );顾虑,顾忌v.感到于心不安,有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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29 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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30 derided | |
v.取笑,嘲笑( deride的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 pangs | |
突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 ); 悲痛 | |
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32 fortitude | |
n.坚忍不拔;刚毅 | |
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33 distressed | |
痛苦的 | |
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34 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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35 obtuse | |
adj.钝的;愚钝的 | |
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