内河航程 英文版 An Inland Voyage
罗伯特.路易斯.史蒂文森 Robert Louis Stevenson
NOYON CATHEDRAL
Noyon stands about a mile from the river, in a little plainsurrounded by wooded hills, and entirely covers an eminence withits tile roofs, surmounted by a long, straight-backed cathedralwith two stiff towers. As we got into the town, the tile roofsseemed to tumble uphill one upon another, in the oddest disorder;but for all their scrambling, they did not attain above the kneesof the cathedral, which stood, upright and solemn, over all. Asthe streets drew near to this presiding genius, through the market-place under the Hotel de Ville, they grew emptier and morecomposed. Blank walls and shuttered windows were turned to thegreat edifice, and grass grew on the white causeway. 'Put off thyshoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest isholy ground.' The Hotel du Nord, nevertheless, lights its seculartapers within a stone-cast of the church; and we had the superbeast-end before our eyes all morning from the window of ourbedroom. I have seldom looked on the east-end of a church withmore complete sympathy. As it flanges out in three wide terracesand settles down broadly on the earth, it looks like the poop ofsome great old battle-ship. Hollow-backed buttresses carry vases,which figure for the stern lanterns. There is a roll in theground, and the towers just appear above the pitch of the roof, asthough the good ship were bowing lazily over an Atlantic swell. Atany moment it might be a hundred feet away from you, climbing thenext billow. At any moment a window might open, and some oldadmiral thrust forth a cocked hat, and proceed to take anobservation. The old admirals sail the sea no longer; the oldships of battle are all broken up, and live only in pictures; butthis, that was a church before ever they were thought upon, isstill a church, and makes as brave an appearance by the Oise. Thecathedral and the river are probably the two oldest things formiles around; and certainly they have both a grand old age.
The Sacristan took us to the top of one of the towers, and showedus the five bells hanging in their loft. From above, the town wasa tesselated pavement of roofs and gardens; the old line of rampartwas plainly traceable; and the Sacristan pointed out to us, faracross the plain, in a bit of gleaming sky between two clouds, thetowers of Chateau Coucy.
I find I never weary of great churches. It is my favourite kind ofmountain scenery. Mankind was never so happily inspired as when itmade a cathedral: a thing as single and specious as a statue tothe first glance, and yet, on examination, as lively andinteresting as a forest in detail. The height of spires cannot betaken by trigonometry; they measure absurdly short, but how tallthey are to the admiring eye! And where we have so many elegantproportions, growing one out of the other, and all together intoone, it seems as if proportion transcended itself, and becamesomething different and more imposing. I could never fathom how aman dares to lift up his voice to preach in a cathedral. What ishe to say that will not be an anti-climax? For though I have hearda considerable variety of sermons, I never yet heard one that wasso expressive as a cathedral. 'Tis the best preacher itself, andpreaches day and night; not only telling you of man's art andaspirations in the past, but convicting your own soul of ardentsympathies; or rather, like all good preachers, it sets youpreaching to yourself;--and every man is his own doctor of divinityin the last resort.
As I sat outside of the hotel in the course of the afternoon, thesweet groaning thunder of the organ floated out of the church likea summons. I was not averse, liking the theatre so well, to sitout an act or two of the play, but I could never rightly make outthe nature of the service I beheld. Four or five priests and asmany choristers were singing Miserere before the high altar when Iwent in. There was no congregation but a few old women on chairsand old men kneeling on the pavement. After a while a long trainof young girls, walking two and two, each with a lighted taper inher hand, and all dressed in black with a white veil, came frombehind the altar, and began to descend the nave; the four firstcarrying a Virgin and child upon a table. The priests andchoristers arose from their knees and followed after, singing 'AveMary' as they went. In this order they made the circuit of thecathedral, passing twice before me where I leaned against a pillar.The priest who seemed of most consequence was a strange, down-looking old man. He kept mumbling prayers with his lips; but as helooked upon me darkling, it did not seem as if prayer wereuppermost in his heart. Two others, who bore the burthen of thechaunt, were stout, brutal, military-looking men of forty, withbold, over-fed eyes; they sang with some lustiness, and trolledforth 'Ave Mary' like a garrison catch. The little girls weretimid and grave. As they footed slowly up the aisle, each one tooka moment's glance at the Englishman; and the big nun who playedmarshal fairly stared him out of countenance. As for thechoristers, from first to last they misbehaved as only boys canmisbehave; and cruelly marred the performance with their antics.
I understood a great deal of the spirit of what went on. Indeed itwould be difficult not to understand the Miserere, which I take tobe the composition of an atheist. If it ever be a good thing totake such despondency to heart, the Miserere is the right music,and a cathedral a fit scene. So far I am at one with theCatholics:- an odd name for them, after all? But why, in God'sname, these holiday choristers? why these priests who stealwandering looks about the congregation while they feign to be atprayer? why this fat nun, who rudely arranges her procession andshakes delinquent virgins by the elbow? why this spitting, andsnuffing, and forgetting of keys, and the thousand and one littlemisadventures that disturb a frame of mind laboriously edified withchaunts and organings? In any play-house reverend fathers may seewhat can be done with a little art, and how, to move highsentiments, it is necessary to drill the supernumeraries and haveevery stool in its proper place.
One other circumstance distressed me. I could bear a Misereremyself, having had a good deal of open-air exercise of late; but Iwished the old people somewhere else. It was neither the rightsort of music nor the right sort of divinity for men and women whohave come through most accidents by this time, and probably have anopinion of their own upon the tragic element in life. A person upin years can generally do his own Miserere for himself; although Inotice that such an one often prefers Jubilate Deo for his ordinarysinging. On the whole, the most religious exercise for the aged isprobably to recall their own experience; so many friends dead, somany hopes disappointed, so many slips and stumbles, and withal somany bright days and smiling providences; there is surely thematter of a very eloquent sermon in all this.
On the whole, I was greatly solemnised. In the little pictorialmap of our whole Inland Voyage, which my fancy still preserves, andsometimes unrolls for the amusement of odd moments, Noyon cathedralfigures on a most preposterous scale, and must be nearly as largeas a department. I can still see the faces of the priests as ifthey were at my elbow, and hear Ave Maria, ora pro nobis, soundingthrough the church. All Noyon is blotted out for me by thesesuperior memories; and I do not care to say more about the place.It was but a stack of brown roofs at the best, where I believepeople live very reputably in a quiet way; but the shadow of thechurch falls upon it when the sun is low, and the five bells areheard in all quarters, telling that the organ has begun. If ever Ijoin the Church of Rome, I shall stipulate to be Bishop of Noyon onthe Oise.