竞技场一瞥

Orville Dewey，1794—1882，a well known Unitarian clergyman and author，was born in Sheffield，Massachusetts，graduated with distinction at Williams College in 1814，and afterward studied theology at Andover.For a while he was assistant to Dr.W.E.Channing in Boston，and later，was a pastor in New Bedford，New York City，and Boston.He made two or three voyages to Europe，and published accounts of his travels.

“Discourses on Human Life，”“Discourses on the Nature of Religion，”“Discourses on Commerce and Business，”are among his published works.His writings are both philosophical and practical；and，as a preacher，he was esteemed original，earnest，and impressive.

On the eighth of November，from the high land，about fourteen miles distant，I first saw Rome；and although there is something very unfavorable to impression in the expectation that you are to be greatly impressed，or that you ought to be，or that such is the fashion；yet Rome is too mighty a name to be withstood by such or any other influences.Let you come upon that hill in what mood you may，the scene will lay hold upon you as with the hand of a giant.I scarcely know how to describe the impression，but it seemed to me as if something strong and stately，like the slow and majestic march of a mighty whirlwind，swept around those eternal towers；the storms of time，that had prostrated the proudest monuments of the world，seemed to have left their vibrations in the still and solemn air；ages of history passed before me；the mighty procession of nations，kings，consuls，emperors，empires，and generations had passed over that sublime theater.The fire，the storm，the earthquake，had gone by；but there was yet left the still，small voice like that at which the prophet “wrapped his face in his mantle.”

I went to see the Colosseum by moonlight.It is the monarch，the majesty of all ruins；there is nothing like it.All the associations of the place，too，give it the most impressive character.When you enter within this stupendous circle of ruinous walls and arches，and grand terraces of masonry，rising one above another，you stand upon the arena of the old gladiatorial combats and Christian martyrdom；and as you lift your eyes to the vast amphitheater，you meet，in imagination，the eyes of a hundred thousand Romans，assembled to witness these bloody spectacles.What a multitude and mighty array of human beings；and how little do we know in modern times of great assemblies！One，two，and three，and，at its last enlargement by Constantine，more than three hundred thousand persons could be seated in the Circus Maximus！

But to return to the Colosseum；we went up under the conduct of a guide upon the walls and terraces，or embankments，which supported the ranges of seats.The seats have long since disappeared；and grass overgrows the spots where the pride，and power，and wealth，and beauty of Rome sat down to its barbarous entertainments.What thronging life was here then！What voices，what greetings，what hurrying footsteps upon the staircases of the eighty arches of entrance！And now，as we picked our way carefully through the decayed passages，or cautiously ascended some moldering flight of steps，or stood by the lonely walls—ourselves silent，and，for a wonder，the guide silent，too—there was no sound here but of the bat，and none came from without but the roll of a distant carriage，or the convent bell from the summit of the neighboring Esquiline.

It is scarcely possible to describe the effect of moonlight upon this ruin.Through a hundred lonely arches and blackened passageways it streamed in，pure，bright，soft，lambent，and yet distinct and clear，as if it came there at once to reveal，and cheer，and pity the mighty desolation.But if the Colosseum is a mournful and desolate spectacle as seen from within—without，and especially on the side which is in best preservation，it is glorious.We passed around it；and，as we looked upward，the moon shining through its arches，from the opposite side，it appeared as if it were the coronet of the heavens，so vast was it—or like a glorious crown upon the brow of night.

I feel that I do not and can not describe this mighty ruin.I can only say that I came away paralyzed，and as passive as a child.A soldier stretched out his hand for “un dona，”as we passed the guard；and when my companion said I did wrong to give，I told him that I should have given my cloak，if the man had asked it.Would you break any spell that worldly feeling or selfish sorrow may have spread over your mind，go and see the Colosseum by moonlight.

译文　TRANSLATION

奥维尔·杜威（1794—1882），美国著名牧师、作家。曾多次游历欧洲，相关游记颇负盛名。

十一月八日，在约十四英里外的高地，我第一次看到罗马；尽管你一定要、必须要铭记的已成流俗的印象会有损你期待中的观感，然而，罗马的盛名足以摒弃这种种影响。无论心境如何，你登上山冈，罗马的气象都会攫住你，宛如一位巨人的手掌。我几乎不知怎样描绘这一印象，只觉恍若一股强劲、雄浑的旋风掠过周围永恒的塔楼；时光的风暴倾覆了世界上最高傲的纪念碑，它的余音似乎还在这沉静、肃穆的空气间回荡，忽高忽低，如泣如诉。历史在我眼前流过；万邦、诸王、执政官、皇帝、帝国与世代组成宏大的队伍，走过这庄严的剧场。火、风暴、地震都逝去了；只余下静默，余下低低的啜泣，像那位先知“用披风掩住了脸。”

月色下，我去看竞技场。它是所有废墟的王，威仪无可方物。它的所有附件也都撼人心魂。步入由残破的墙垣、拱门及一层层的石阶围成的巨环，站在古老的竞技场，遥想角斗士在此间搏命，基督教圣徒在这里殉难；当你举目望向观众席，冥冥中，仿佛看到成千上万双罗马人的眼睛正注视着那血腥的场面。那万头攒动的景象该是多么壮观；而在当代的大型集会中，我们则很少领略。一次、两次、三次……到康斯坦丁最后一次扩建，那个“大角斗场”已可容纳三十多万观众。

说回竞技场，我们在向导的引领下走上城墙、台阶和支撑座位的护堤。那些座位很久以前就已不见了；罗马时代，达官富商、显贵名媛们坐观那野蛮娱乐之处，如今荒草蔓生。昔日，这里曾摩肩接踵、人声鼎沸！多少寒暄问候，多少匆匆的步履从入口的八十道拱门拾阶而上！今天，当我们小心翼翼地走过那颓败的过道，或战战兢兢地攀上那已有几分衰朽的台阶，悄立在荒凉的断壁残垣，我们沉默着，有些意外，向导竟也无语——身畔唯余蝙蝠的声音，外面也只有远处辚辚的车声和埃斯奎林山顶飘落的修道院的钟声。

而月华与废墟交融而成的意境，几乎是画不成也写不出的。月光静静流过孤独的拱门、发黑的过道，纯净，润泽，柔和，明灭闪烁间却又那般清澈，它似乎在呈现，在抚慰，也在哀怜着这硕大的苍凉。但若说从里面看，竞技场衰颓而充满悼亡的意绪——那么，在外面，尤其是从它保存最好的部分看，竞技场则是壮丽的。我们围着它走了一圈；仰望天宇，月光透过拱门，从对面照进来，大大的月亮看去仿若天庭的华冕，戴在夜的额上，那么璀璨。

我觉得自己不会也不能描绘出这巨大的废墟。我唯一能说的是，离开时，自己是那么无力，浑浑噩噩像个孩子。经过岗亭，一个士兵伸手乞求接济；同伴说，我不该给他小费，我告诉他，倘若当时那个人要我那件披风，我也会给他的。假如你要打破鄙俗与自怜自伤的符咒，就趁着月色去看看竞技场吧。