WHEN I was twelve or thirteen years old, an uncle of mine who gave me my love for books and pictures promised to take me upon a memorable1 expedition. I was to go with him to the top of the tower of Old Saint Lawrence in Rotterdam.
And so, one fine day, a sexton with a key as large as that of Saint Peter opened a mysterious door. "Ring the bell," he said, "when you come back and want to get out," and with a great grinding of rusty2 old hinges he separated us from the noise of the busy street and locked us into a world of new and strange experiences.
For the first time in my life I was confronted by the phenomenon of audible silence. When we had climbed the first flight of stairs, I added another discovery to my limited knowledge of natural phenomena—that of tangible3 darkness. A match showed us where the upward road continued. We went to the next floor and then to the next and the next until I had lost count and then there came still another floor, and suddenly we had plenty of light. This floor was on an even height with the roof of the church, and it was used as a storeroom. Covered with many inches of dust, there lay the abandoned symbols of a venerable faith which had been discarded by the good people of the city many years ago. That which had meant life and death to our ancestors was here reduced to junk and rubbish. The industrious4 rat had built his nest among the carved images and the ever watchful5 spider had opened up shop between the outspread arms of a kindly6 saint.
The next floor showed us from where we had derived7 our light. Enormous open windows with heavy iron bars made the high and barren room the roosting place of hundreds of pigeons. The wind blew through the iron bars and the air was filled with a weird8 and pleasing music. It was the noise of the town below us, but a noise which had been purified and cleansed9 by the distance. The rumbling10 of heavy carts and the clinking of horses' hoofs11, the winding12 of cranes and pulleys, the hissing13 sound of the patient steam which had been set to do the work of man in a thousand different ways—they had all been blended into a softly rustling14 whisper which provided a beautiful background for the trembling cooing of the pigeons.
Here the stairs came to an end and the ladders began. And after the first ladder (a slippery old thing which made one feel his way with a cautious foot) there was a new and even greater wonder, the town-clock. I saw the heart of time. I could hear the heavy pulsebeats of the rapid seconds—one—two—three—up to sixty. Then a sudden quivering noise when all the wheels seemed to stop and another minute had been chopped off eternity15. Without pause it began again—one—two—three—until at last after a warning rumble16 and the scraping of many wheels a thunderous voice, high above us, told the world that it was the hour of noon.
On the next floor were the bells. The nice little bells and their terrible sisters. In the centre the big bell, which made me turn stiff with fright when I heard it in the middle of the night telling a story of fire or flood. In solitary17 grandeur18 it seemed to reflect upon those six hundred years during which it had shared the joys and the sorrows of the good people of Rotterdam. Around it, neatly19 arranged like the blue jars in an old-fashioned apothecary20 shop, hung the little fellows, who twice each week played a merry tune21 for the benefit of the country-folk who had come to market to buy and sell and hear what the big world had been doing. But in a corner—all alone and shunned22 by the others—a big black bell, silent and stern, the bell of death.
Then darkness once more and other ladders, steeper and even more dangerous than those we had climbed before, and suddenly the fresh air of the wide heavens. We had reached the highest gallery. Above us the sky. Below us the city—a little toy-town, where busy ants were hastily crawling hither and thither23, each one intent upon his or her particular business, and beyond the jumble24 of stones, the wide greenness of the open country.
It was my first glimpse of the big world.
Since then, whenever I have had the opportunity, I have gone to the top of the tower and enjoyed myself. It was hard work, but it repaid in full the mere25 physical exertion26 of climbing a few stairs.
Besides, I knew what my reward would be. I would see the land and the sky, and I would listen to the stories of my kind friend the watchman, who lived in a small shack27, built in a sheltered corner of the gallery. He looked after the clock and was a father to the bells, and he warned of fires, but he enjoyed many free hours and then he smoked a pipe and thought his own peaceful thoughts. He had gone to school almost fifty years before and he had rarely read a book, but he had lived on the top of his tower for so many years that he had absorbed the wisdom of that wide world which surrounded him on all sides.
History he knew well, for it was a living thing with him. "There," he would say, pointing to a bend of the river, "there, my boy, do you see those trees? That is where the Prince of Orange cut the dikes to drown the land and save Leyden." Or he would tell me the tale of the old Meuse, until the broad river ceased to be a convenient harbour and became a wonderful highroad, carrying the ships of De Ruyter and Tromp upon that famous last voyage, when they gave their lives that the sea might be free to all.
Then there were the little villages, clustering around the protecting church which once, many years ago, had been the home of their Patron Saints. In the distance we could see the leaning tower of Delft. Within sight of its high arches, William the Silent had been murdered and there Grotius had learned to construe28 his first Latin sentences. And still further away, the long low body of the church of Gouda, the early home of the man whose wit had proved mightier29 than the armies of many an emperor, the charity-boy whom the world came to know as Erasmus.
Finally the silver line of the endless sea and as a contrast, immediately below us, the patchwork30 of roofs and chimneys and houses and gardens and hospitals and schools and railways, which we called our home. But the tower showed us the old home in a new light. The confused commotion31 of the streets and the market-place, of the factories and the workshop, became the well-ordered expression of human energy and purpose. Best of all, the wide view of the glorious past, which surrounded us on all sides, gave us new courage to face the problems of the future when we had gone back to our daily tasks.
History is the mighty32 Tower of Experience, which Time has built amidst the endless fields of bygone ages. It is no easy task to reach the top of this ancient structure and get the benefit of the full view. There is no elevator, but young feet are strong and it can be done.
Here I give you the key that will open the door.
When you return, you too will understand the reason for my enthusiasm.
HENDRIK WILLEM VAN LOON33.
点击收听单词发音
1 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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2 rusty | |
adj.生锈的;锈色的;荒废了的 | |
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3 tangible | |
adj.有形的,可触摸的,确凿的,实际的 | |
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4 industrious | |
adj.勤劳的,刻苦的,奋发的 | |
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5 watchful | |
adj.注意的,警惕的 | |
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6 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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7 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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8 weird | |
adj.古怪的,离奇的;怪诞的,神秘而可怕的 | |
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9 cleansed | |
弄干净,清洗( cleanse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10 rumbling | |
n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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11 hoofs | |
n.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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12 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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13 hissing | |
n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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14 rustling | |
n. 瑟瑟声,沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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15 eternity | |
n.不朽,来世;永恒,无穷 | |
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16 rumble | |
n.隆隆声;吵嚷;v.隆隆响;低沉地说 | |
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17 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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18 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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19 neatly | |
adv.整洁地,干净地,灵巧地,熟练地 | |
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20 apothecary | |
n.药剂师 | |
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21 tune | |
n.调子;和谐,协调;v.调音,调节,调整 | |
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22 shunned | |
v.避开,回避,避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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24 jumble | |
vt.使混乱,混杂;n.混乱;杂乱的一堆 | |
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25 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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26 exertion | |
n.尽力,努力 | |
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27 shack | |
adj.简陋的小屋,窝棚 | |
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28 construe | |
v.翻译,解释 | |
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29 mightier | |
adj. 强有力的,强大的,巨大的 adv. 很,极其 | |
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30 patchwork | |
n.混杂物;拼缝物 | |
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31 commotion | |
n.骚动,动乱 | |
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32 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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33 loon | |
n.狂人 | |
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