The real reason for the cinnamon bun is to fortify7 us for the contemplation and onslaught upon a tragic8 problem that Washington Square presents to our pondering soul.
Washington Square is a delightful9 place. There are trees there, and publishing houses and warm green grass and a fire engine station. There are children playing about on the broad pavements that criss-cross the sward; there is a fine roof of blue sky, kept from falling down by the enormous building at the north side of the Square. But these things present no problems. To our simple philosophy a tree is a vegetable, a child is an animal, a building is a mineral and this classification needs no further scrutiny10 or analysis. But there is one thing in Washington Square that embodies11 an intellectual problem, a grappling of the soul, a matter for continual anguish12 and decision.
On the west side of the Square is the Swiss consulate14, and, it is this that weighs upon our brooding spirit. How many times we have paused before that quiet little house and gazed upon the little red cross, a Maltese Cross, or a Cross of St. Hieronymus; or whatever the heraldic term is, that represents and symbolizes15 the diplomatic and spiritual presence of the Swiss republic. We have stood there and thought about William Tell and the Berne Convention and the St. Gothard Tunnel and St. Bernard dogs and winter sports and alpenstocks and edelweiss and the Jungfrau and all the other trappings and trappists that make Switzerland notable. We have mused16 upon the Swiss military system, which is so perfect that it has never had to be tested by war; and we have wondered what is the name of the President of Switzerland and how he keeps it out of the papers so successfully. One day we lugged17 an encyclopedia18 and the Statesman's Year Book out to the Square with us and sat down on a bench facing the consulate and read up about the Swiss cabinet and the national bank of Switzerland and her child labor19 problems. Accidentally we discovered the name of the Swiss President, but as he has kept it so dark we are not going to give away his secret.
Our dilemma20 is quite simple. Where there is a consulate there must be a consul13, and it seems to us a dreadful thing that inside that building there lurks21 a Swiss envoy22 who does not know that we, here, we who are walking round the Square with our mouth full of Henry Rosa's bun, once spent a night in Switzerland. We want him to know that; we think he ought to know it; we think it is part of his diplomatic duty to know it. And yet how can we burst in on him and tell him that apparently23 irrelevant24 piece of information?
We have thought of various ways of breaking it to him, or should we say breaking him to it?
Should we rush in and say the Swiss national debt is $----, or ---- kopecks, and then lead on to other topics such as the comparative heights of mountain peaks, letting the consul gradually grasp the fact that we have been in Switzerland? Or should we call him up on the telephone and make a mysterious appointment with him, when we could blurt25 it out brutally26?
We are a modest and diffident man, and this little problem, which would be so trifling27 to many, presents inscrutable hardships to us.
Another aspect of the matter is this. We think the consul ought to know that we spent one night in Switzerland once; we think he ought to know what we were doing that night; but we also think he ought to know just why it was that we spent only one night in his beautiful country. We don't want him to think we hurried away because we were annoyed by anything, or because the national debt was so many rupees or piasters, or because child labor in Switzerland is----. It is the thought that the consul and all his staff are in total ignorance of our existence that galls28 us. Here we are, walking round and round the Square, bursting with information and enthusiasm about Swiss republicanism, and the consul never heard of us. How can we summon up courage enough to tell him the truth? That is the tragedy of Washington Square.
It was a dark, rainy night when we bicycled into Basel. We hid been riding all day long, coming down from the dark clefts29 of the Black Forest, and we and our knapsack were wet through. We had been bicycling for six weeks with no more luggage than a rucksack could hold. We never saw such rain as fell that day we slithered and sloshed on the rugged30 slopes that tumble down to the Rhine at Basel. (The annual rainfall in Switzerland is----.) When we got to the little hotel at Basel we sat in the dining room with water running off us in trickles31, until the head waiter glared. And so all we saw of Switzerland was the interior of the tobacconist's where we tried, unsuccessfully, to get some English baccy. Then he went to bed while our garments were dried. We stayed in bed for ten hours, reading, fairy tales and smoking and answering modestly through the transom when any one asked us questions.
The next morning we overhauled32 our wardrobe. We will not particularize, but we decided33 that one change of duds, after six weeks' bicycling, was not enough of a wardrobe to face the Jungfrau and the national debt and the child-labor problenm, not to speak of the anonymous34 President and the other sights that matter (such as the Matterhorn). Also, our stock of tobacco had run out, and German or French tobacco we simply cannot smoke. Even if we could get along on substitute fumigants the issue of garments was imperative35. The nearest place where we could get any clothes of the kind that we are accustomed to, the kind of clothes that are familiarly symbolized36 by three well-known initials, was London. And the only way we had to get to London was on our bicycle. We thought we had better get busy. It's a long bike ride from Basel to London. So we just went as far as the Basel Cathedral, so as not to seem too unappreciative of all the treasures that Switzerland had been saving for us for countless37 centuries; then we got on board our patient steed and trundled off through Alsace.
That was in August, 1912, and we firmly intended to go back to Switzerland the next year to have another look at, the rainfall and the rest of the statistics and status quos. But the opportunity has not come.
So that is why we wander disconsolately38 about Washington Square, trying to make up our mind to unburden our bosom39 to the Swiss consul and tell him the worst. But how can one go and interrupt a consul to tell him that sort of thing? Perhaps he wouldn't understand it at all; he would misunderstand our pathetic little story and be angry that we took up his time. He wouldn't think that a shortage of tobacco and clothing was a sufficient excuse for slighting William Tell and the Jungfrau. He wouldn't appreciate the frustrated40 emotion and longing41 with which we watch the little red cross at his front door, and think of all it means to us and all it might have meant.
We took another turn around Washington Square, trying to embolden42 ourself enough to go in and tell the consul all this. And then our heart failed us. We decided to write a piece for the paper about it, and if the consul ever sees it he will be generous and understand. He will know why, behind the humble43 fa?ade of his consulate on Washington Square, we see the heaven-piercing summits of Switzerland rising like a dream, blue and silvery and tantalizing44.
P.S. Since the above we have definitely decided not to go to call on the Swiss consul. Suppose he were only a vice-consul, a Philadelphia Swiss, who had never been to Switzerland in his life!
点击收听单词发音
1 pastry | |
n.油酥面团,酥皮糕点 | |
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2 slab | |
n.平板,厚的切片;v.切成厚板,以平板盖上 | |
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3 musing | |
n. 沉思,冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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4 engulfing | |
adj.吞噬的v.吞没,包住( engulf的现在分词 ) | |
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5 circumference | |
n.圆周,周长,圆周线 | |
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6 phenomena | |
n.现象 | |
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7 fortify | |
v.强化防御,为…设防;加强,强化 | |
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8 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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9 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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10 scrutiny | |
n.详细检查,仔细观察 | |
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11 embodies | |
v.表现( embody的第三人称单数 );象征;包括;包含 | |
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12 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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13 consul | |
n.领事;执政官 | |
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14 consulate | |
n.领事馆 | |
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15 symbolizes | |
v.象征,作为…的象征( symbolize的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16 mused | |
v.沉思,冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 );沉思自语说(某事) | |
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17 lugged | |
vt.用力拖拉(lug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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18 encyclopedia | |
n.百科全书 | |
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19 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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20 dilemma | |
n.困境,进退两难的局面 | |
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21 lurks | |
n.潜在,潜伏;(lurk的复数形式)vi.潜伏,埋伏(lurk的第三人称单数形式) | |
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22 envoy | |
n.使节,使者,代表,公使 | |
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23 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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24 irrelevant | |
adj.不恰当的,无关系的,不相干的 | |
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25 blurt | |
vt.突然说出,脱口说出 | |
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26 brutally | |
adv.残忍地,野蛮地,冷酷无情地 | |
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27 trifling | |
adj.微不足道的;没什么价值的 | |
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28 galls | |
v.使…擦痛( gall的第三人称单数 );擦伤;烦扰;侮辱 | |
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29 clefts | |
n.裂缝( cleft的名词复数 );裂口;cleave的过去式和过去分词;进退维谷 | |
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30 rugged | |
adj.高低不平的,粗糙的,粗壮的,强健的 | |
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31 trickles | |
n.细流( trickle的名词复数 );稀稀疏疏缓慢来往的东西v.滴( trickle的第三人称单数 );淌;使)慢慢走;缓慢移动 | |
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32 overhauled | |
v.彻底检查( overhaul的过去式和过去分词 );大修;赶上;超越 | |
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33 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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34 anonymous | |
adj.无名的;匿名的;无特色的 | |
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35 imperative | |
n.命令,需要;规则;祈使语气;adj.强制的;紧急的 | |
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36 symbolized | |
v.象征,作为…的象征( symbolize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
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38 disconsolately | |
adv.悲伤地,愁闷地;哭丧着脸 | |
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39 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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40 frustrated | |
adj.挫败的,失意的,泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 );挫败;使受挫折;令人沮丧 | |
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41 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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42 embolden | |
v.给…壮胆,鼓励 | |
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43 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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44 tantalizing | |
adj.逗人的;惹弄人的;撩人的;煽情的v.逗弄,引诱,折磨( tantalize的现在分词 ) | |
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