安徒生童話:The Old Church Bell教堂古鐘
the Old Church Bell
（Written for the Schiller Album）
by Hans Christian Andersen（1861）
IN the country of Wurtemburg， in Germany， where the acacias grow by the public road， where the apple-trees and the pear-trees in autumn bend to the earth with the weight of the precious fruit， lies the little town of Marbach. As is often the case with many of these towns， it is charmingly situated on the banks of the river Neckar， which rushes rapidly by， passing villages， old knights' castles， and GREen vineyards， till its waters mingle with those of the stately Rhine. It was late in the autumn； the vine-leaves still hung upon the branches of the vines， but they were already tinted with red and gold； heavy showers fell on the surrounding country， and the cold autumn wind blew sharp and strong. It was not at all pleasant weather for the poor. The days grew shorter and more gloomy， and， dark as it was out of doors in the open air， it was still darker within the small， old-fashioned houses of the village. The gable end of one of these houses faced the street， and with its small， narrow windows， presented a very mean appearance. The family who dwelt in it were also very poor and humble， but they treasured the fear of God in their innermost hearts. And now He was about to send them a child. It was the hour of the mother's sorrow， when there pealed forth from the church tower the sound of festive bells. In that solemn hour the sweet and joyous chiming filled the hearts of those in the humble dwelling with thankfulness and trust； and when， amidst these joyous sounds， a little son was born to them， the words of prayer and praise arose from their overflowing hearts， and their happiness seemed to ring out over town and country in the liquid tones of the church bells' chime. The little one， with its bright eyes and golden hair， had been welcomed joyously on that dark November day. Its parents kissed it lovingly， and the father wrote these words in the Bible， “On the tenth of November， 1759， God sent us a son.” And a short time after， when the child had been baptized， the names he had received were added， “John Christopher Frederick.”
And what became of the little lad？—the poor boy of the humble town of Marbach？ Ah， indeed， there was no one who thought or supposed， not even the old church bell which had been the first to sound and chime for him， that he would be the first to sing the beautiful song of “The Bell.” The boy GREw apace， and the world advanced with him.
While he was yet a child， his parents removed from Marbach， and went to reside in another town； but their dearest friends remained behind at Marbach， and therefore sometimes the mother and her son would start on a fine day to pay a visit to the little town. The boy was at this time about six years old， and already knew a GREat many stories out of the Bible， and several religious psalms. While seated in the evening on his little cane-chair， he had often heard his father read from Gellert's fables， and sometimes from Klopstock's grand poem， “The Messiah.” He and his sister， two years older than himself， had often wept scalding tears over the story of Him who suffered death on the cross for us all.
On his first visit to Marbach， the town appeared to have changed but very little， and it was not far enough away to be forgotten. The house， with its pointed gable， narrow windows， overhanging walls and stories， projecting one beyond another， looked just the same as in former times. But in the churchyard there were several new graves； and there also， in the grass， close by the wall， stood the old church bell！ It had been taken down from its high position， in consequence of a crack in the metal which prevented it from ever chiming again， and a new bell now occupied its place. The mother and son were walking in the churchyard when they discovered the old bell， and they stood still to look at it. Then the mother reminded her little boy of what a useful bell this had been for many hundred years. It had chimed for weddings and for christenings； it had tolled for funerals， and to give the alarm in case of fire. With every event in the life of man the bell had made its voice heard. His mother also told him how the chiming of that old bell had once filled her heart with joy and confidence， and that in the midst of the sweet tones her child had been given to her. And the boy gazed on the large， old bell with the deepest interest. He bowed his head over it and kissed it， old， thrown away， and cracked as it was， and standing there amidst the grass and nettles. The boy never forgot what his mother told him， and the tones of the old bell reverberated in his heart till he reached manhood. In such sweet remembrance was the old bell cherished by the boy， who GREw up in poverty to be tall and slender， with a freckled complexion and hair almost red； but his eyes were clear and blue as the deep sea， and what was his career to be？ His career was to be good， and his future life enviable. We find him taking high honors at the military school in the division commanded by the member of a family high in position， and this was an honor， that is to say， good luck. He wore gaiters， stiff collars， and powdered hair， and by this he was recognized； and， indeed， he might be known by the word of command—“March！ halt！ front！”
the old church bell had long been quite forgotten， and no one imagined it would ever again be sent to the melting furnace to make it as it was before. No one could possibly have foretold this. Equally impossible would it have been to believe that the tones of the old bell still echoed in the heart of the boy from Marbach； or that one day they would ring out loud enough and strong enough to be heard all over the world. They had already been heard in the narrow space behind the school-wall， even above the deafening sounds of “March！ halt！ front！” They had chimed so loudly in the heart of the youngster， that he had sung them to his companions， and their tones resounded to the very borders of the country. He was not a free scholar in the military school， neither was he provided with clothes or food. But he had his number， and his own peg； for everything here was ordered like clockwork， which we all know is of the GREatest utility—people get on so much better together when their position and duties are understood. It is by pressure that a jewel is stamped. The pressure of regularity and discipline here stamped the jewel， which in the future the world so well knew.
In the chief town of the province a GREat festival was being celebrated. The light streamed forth from thousands of lamps， and the rockets shot upwards towards the sky， filling the air with showers of colored fiery sparks. A record of this bright display will live in the memory of man， for through it the pupil in the military school was in tears and sorrow. He had dared to attempt to reach foreign territories unnoticed， and must therefore give up fatherland， mother， his dearest friends， all， or sink down into the stream of common life. The old church bell had still some comfort； it stood in the shelter of the church wall in Marbach， once so elevated， now quite forgotten. The wind roared around it， and could have readily related the story of its origin and of its sweet chimes， and the wind could also tell of him to whom he had brought fresh air when， in the woods of a neighboring country， he had sunk down exhausted with fatigue， with no other worldly possessions than hope for the future， and a written leaf from “Fiesco.” The wind could have told that his only protector was an artist， who， by reading each leaf to him， made it plain； and that they amused themselves by playing at nine-pins together. The wind could also describe the pale fugitive， who， for weeks and months， lay in a wretched little road-side inn， where the landlord got drunk and raved， and where the merry-makers had it all their own way. And he， the pale fugitive， sang of the ideal.
For many heavy days and dark nights the heart must suffer to enable it to endure trial and temptation； yet， amidst it all， would the minstrel sing. Dark days and cold nights also passed over the old bell， and it noticed them not； but the bell in the man's heart felt it to be a gloomy time. What would become of this young man， and what would become of the old bell？
the old bell was， after a time， carried away to a GREater distance than any one， even the warder in the bell tower， ever imagined； and the bell in the breast of the young man was heard in countries where his feet had never wandered. The tones went forth over the wide ocean to every part of the round world.
We will now follow the career of the old bell. It was， as we have said， carried far away from Marbach and sold as old copper； then sent to Bavaria to be melted down in a furnace. And then what happened？
In the royal city of Bavaria， many years after the bell had been removed from the tower and melted down， some metal was required for a monument in honor of one of the most celebrated characters which a German people or a German land could produce. And now we see how wonderfully things are ordered. Strange things sometimes happen in this world.
In Denmark， in one of those GREen islands where the foliage of the beech-woods rustles in the wind， and where many Huns' graves may be seen， was another poor boy born. He wore wooden shoes， and when his father worked in a ship-yard， the boy， wrapped up in an old worn-out shawl， carried his dinner to him every day. This poor child was now the pride of his country； for the sculptured marble， the work of his hands， had astonished the world.1 To him was offered the honor of forming from the clay， a model of the figure of him whose name， “John Christopher Frederick，” had been written by his father in the Bible. The bust was cast in bronze， and part of the metal used for this purpose was the old church bell， whose tones had died away from the memory of those at home and elsewhere. The metal， glowing with heat， flowed into the mould， and formed the head and bust of the statue which was unveiled in the square in front of the old castle. The statue represented in living， breathing reality， the form of him who was born in poverty， the boy from Marbach， the pupil of the military school， the fugitive who struggled against poverty and oppression， from the outer world； Germany's great and immortal poet， who sung of Switzerland's deliverer， William Tell， and of the heaven-inspired Maid of Orleans.
It was a beautiful sunny day； flags were waving from tower and roof in royal Stuttgart， and the church bells were ringing a joyous peal. One bell was silent； but it was illuminated by the bright sunshine which streamed from the head and bust of the renowned figure， of which it formed a part. On this day， just one hundred years had passed since the day on which the chiming of the old church bell at Marbach had filled the mother's heart with trust and joy—the day on which her child was born in poverty， and in a humble home； the same who， in after-years， became rich， became the noble woman-hearted poet， a blessing to the world—the glorious， the sublime， the immortal bard， John Christoper Frederick Schiller！
在德意志的公國符騰堡，金合歡樹在大道旁花繁葉茂，蘋果樹、梨樹被成熟的果實壓彎了枝子，那兒，有一座小城，馬爾巴赫。它屬於不值得提起的那類城市，但是它在奈加河畔，很幽美。奈加河急匆匆地流過一些城市，一些古代騎士的堡寨和長滿綠蔥蔥的葡萄的山丘，要把自己的水注入萊茵河之中。
那是歲末的時候，葡萄葉子已經露出紅色，雨一陣陣灑下，寒風吹了起來。對貧寒的人家，這可不是好受的日子。白晝昏暗，那些老舊矮小的房子裏顯得更黑。在街上就有這樣一所房子，山牆朝着街道，窗戶開得很低，看去很簡陋。住在裏面的人實在也是貧寒的。可是他們很善良、勤勞，內心中總懷着對上帝的愛戴與崇敬。上帝很快便要賜給他們一個小孩。時刻已經到了，母親躺在裏面經受着陣痛和難過。這時從教堂的鐘樓上給她傳來了鐘聲，很是深沉，很是歡快。這是一個莊嚴的時刻，鐘聲注滿了這位在虔誠祈禱和富於崇敬心的人。她的心真誠地飛向上帝。就在這個時候，她感覺到了她的兒子，她感覺到了無止境的歡樂。教堂的鐘好像敲出了她的歡樂，把她的歡樂帶向整個城市、整個國土。一雙嬰兒的眼睛望着她，嬰孩的頭髮在發光，就好像是鍍了金一樣1.世界在十一月一天的黑夜裏，在鐘聲中迎接了這個嬰兒。父親和母親親吻着他，他們在自己的聖經上寫下：“一七五九年十一月十日，上帝賜給了我們一個兒子。”後來又添寫上，他在受洗禮時得到了“約翰 ·克里斯托夫·弗里德里希”的名。
這個小傢伙，不值一提的馬爾巴赫的貧苦人家的孩子，後來成了甚麼樣的人？是啊，當時誰也不知道。就連那口教堂古鐘，不管它掛得多高，儘管它是第一個爲他而嗚爲他而唱的，也不知道。而他後來則爲“鍾”作了絕唱2.小傢伙在長大，世界也在他面前長大。他的父母倒是遷往另一個城市去了，但是親密的朋友都留在小小的馬爾巴赫，所以有一天母親和兒子也回來了。小男孩只有六歲，但是他已經對聖經和那些聖潔的讚美詩篇知道得不少。他有許多個夜晚，在自己的小搖椅上聽他的父親讀蓋勒爾特3的童話和關於救世主耶蘇的事蹟。在聽到關於他爲了拯救我們大家而被釘在十字架上的事蹟的時候，小男孩流出了眼淚，比他長兩歲的姐姐還不禁哭了起來。
頭一次回訪馬爾巴赫的時候，這個城市的變化不大，你知道，那時距他們搬走的時間還不算長。房子和以前一樣，還是那尖尖的山牆，傾斜的牆壁和低低的窗子；教堂墳園裏增添了些新墳，那口古鐘則躺到了緊靠牆邊的草裏。它從高高的上面落了下來，摔出了一道裂縫，不能再響了，也已經安裝了一口新的替代它。
母親和兒子進到了教堂墳園裏，他們在古鐘前站定。母親告訴自己的孩子，這口鐘在過去幾百年間怎麼樣做了許多有益的事情，爲孩子的洗禮，爲結婚的喜悅，爲喪葬而鳴響過；它爲歡宴，爲火災而發聲。是的，鍾唱遍了人生的全部經歷。孩子永遠也沒有忘記母親的話。母親還告訴他，這口古鐘如何在她最惶恐不安的時刻爲她鳴唱，給她以安慰和快樂，在賜給她孩子的時候爲她鳴響歌唱。孩子很虔誠地望着那口很大的古鐘，他蹲了下去，親吻了它，儘管它很老很舊，儘管它裂了縫被遺棄在那裏，躺在亂草和蕁麻中。
它刻進了孩子的記憶，孩子在貧困中長大起來，瘦高個子，一頭紅髮，臉上不少麻斑，是的，這就是他，但是他的一雙眼睛是清亮的，就像深海的水。他怎麼樣了？他很不錯，好得令人羨嫉！他受到了很大的優待，被錄取進了軍官學校，入了達官富紳的子弟們上的那一科。這是一種榮譽，一種幸福。他穿上靴子，戴上了硬領和撲了粉的假髮。他獲得了知識。知識是在“開步走！”“立定！”“向前看！”這些口令裏得到的。定會有所成就的。
那口古鐘總有一天會被送進熔鐵爐，之後會有甚麼樣的結果呢？是的，這是無法說的。同樣，那青年人的胸中的那口鐘將來會生出甚麼來，也是無法說的。他胸中有一塊礦石，它在發聲，它定會在大世界中高唱。學校牆內的天地越是窄狹，“開步走！立定！向前看！”的口令聲越是響亮，這個年輕學子的胸中的鳴響便越發地洪亮。他在同學中鳴響，他的聲音飛出了國家的疆界。可是，他被錄取入學，穿上制服，有了餐食，並不是爲了這一點點。他有才華，會成爲一座巨大的時鐘中的那根鍾舌，我們大家都該有點實在的用處。——我們對自己的瞭解是多麼地少，別的人，即使是最要好的人，又怎麼總能瞭解我們呢！但是寶石正是在壓力下形成的。這裏壓力已經有了，不知道在時間發展的過程中，世界會不會認識到這顆寶石呢？
在這個公國的首府有一個很大的慶祝會。數以千計的燈火點燃起來，焰火照亮了天空，他還記得當時的輝煌情景，那時他在淚水和痛苦中堅決地要設法前往異國他鄉；他必須離開祖國、母親和自己所有的親人，否則他便會落入庸庸碌碌的人流之中。
古老的鐘很不錯，它受到馬爾巴赫教堂的牆的蔭護！風吹過它的上面，本可以講述一點關於他的信息，這鐘在他出世的時候爲他鳴過，講述一下鐘聲多麼寒冷地在他身上吹過，他不久前精疲力竭在鄰國的樹林中倒了下去。在那裏他的財富和未來的希望，還只是一些完成了的“斐愛斯柯4”的手稿。風本可以講一講，那些贊助人還都是些藝術家，在他朗讀這部作品的時候，竟溜出去玩九柱戲去了。風本可以講一講，那位蒼白的流亡者在一家蹩腳的小店裏，住了許多個星期，許多個月，店老闆只知吵吵鬧鬧和酗酒。在他詠唱理想的時候，店裏是一片庸俗的尋歡作樂。沉重的日子，黑暗的日子啊！心臟要詠唱些甚麼，首先必定要捱苦受難和接受考驗的。
黑暗的日子，寒冷的夜晚掠過了那口古鐘；它感覺不到，可是人胸中的鐘卻感到了自己的艱難歲月。那個年輕人怎麼樣了？古鐘怎麼樣了？是啊，鍾去了老遠的地方，去到了比之當年高高地在塔上鳴響的時候聲音能被人聽到之處還遠的地方。那位年輕人，他胸中之鐘發出的聲音，傳到了比他的腿腳所到之處、眼睛能望及之處還要遠得多的地方。它鳴響，而且還在鳴響，聲音傳過了四海，傳遍了大地。先聽聽那口教堂古鐘的事吧！它來自馬爾巴赫，卻被當作破銅賣掉，被投進巴伐利亞5熔爐裏。它是怎麼以及何時到了那裏的？是啊，這還得讓鍾自己講，要是它能講的話。這並不太重要。但事情就是，它到了巴伐利亞君王的都城6，這距它從塔上墜落下來已經許多許多年了。現在它要被熔掉，要被用來和別的銅液一起鑄造一尊榮譽的塑像，德意志人民和國家驕傲的形象。聽吧，這事是怎麼樣發生的。在這個世界上，出現了這樣奇異卻又是十分美好的事情！在北面的丹麥的一個蔥綠的島子上，小山毛櫸茁壯地生長着，島上散佈着巨塚.有一個貧苦的孩子7，腳穿着木鞋，用一塊破布包着食物給自己的父親送去，他的父親在島上四處刻木活。這貧苦的孩子成了這個國家的驕傲，他用大理石雕刻華麗宏偉的藝術品，令世界驚異。正是他，得到了用泥塑一個偉大、壯麗的人像胚子的殊榮，這泥胚將被用銅鑄成像，那個人的，他的父親在聖經上寫下了他的名字：約翰·克里斯托夫·弗里德里希。
熾熱的銅水明晃晃地流入模子，那口古鐘——是啊，誰也沒有想過它的故鄉和那失去的聲音，鍾與其他的銅溶液一起流進了模子，鑄成了塑像的頭和胸。這塑像現在已經揭幕，矗立在斯圖加特8那所古堡前面的廣場上。在這個廣場上，這個銅像所代表的那個人，曾生氣勃勃地在這裏走過，受外部世界的壓迫，他在奮鬥、在抗爭。他，馬爾巴赫的孩子，卡爾學校的學生，背井離鄉的人，德國偉大的不朽的詩人，他爲瑞士的解放者9和法國的一位受上帝鼓舞的姑娘而歌唱十。這是一個陽光明媚的美好的日子。君王的斯圖加特的塔上和屋頂上，旗幟飄揚，教堂的鐘爲喜慶歡樂而長鳴。只有一口鐘緘默不響，它在明媚的陽光中閃閃發光，在光榮的銅像的頭部胸部閃閃發光。這恰是馬爾巴赫的那口鐘爲那位受苦受難、在貧困的屋子裏可憐地生下自己孩子的母親，發出喜慶歡樂的響聲的整整一百年的日子。後來，這個孩子成了富足的人，整個世界都讚頌他的財富；他，那有一顆高貴婦女的心的詩人，偉大、光明事業的歌手，約翰·克里斯托夫·弗里德里希·席勒。
題注席勒是德國的大詩人和劇作家（1759-1805），安徒生對他十分崇敬。這篇童話是安徒生爲他的朋友塞爾（1789-1863）爲紀念席勒誕生100週年而編的《席勒的紀念冊》而寫的。最初是以德文發表在《席勒的紀念冊》上。這是以席勒的《鍾之歌》敷衍出來的一篇故事。
1安徒生在1855年8月13日的日記中寫道，他和大公在一起午餐，遇席勒的長子，他送給安徒生一幅十分逼真的席勒的肖像畫，並且告訴安徒生，席勒的頭髮是紅的。
2指席勒的《鍾之歌》。
3克·福赫臺戈特·蓋勒爾特（1715-1769）德國詩人。4指席勒的作品《斐愛斯柯在熱那亞的謀叛》，1782年，席勒不堪符騰堡公爵的欺凌逃離斯圖加特去曼海姆的時候，曾攜此劇的手稿。在曼海姆他爲戲劇界朗讀了此劇。
5德國南部的最大的一片地方。
6指慕尼黑。
7指曹瓦爾森。請參見《丹麥人霍爾格》注17. 8現在的巴登符騰堡的州府。席勒的故鄉馬爾巴赫就在這個州里。
9指威廉·退爾。席勒寫過劇本《威廉·退爾》。
威廉·退爾是民間傳說中的瑞士英雄。故事說是的14世紀統治瑞士的奧地利總督肆意壓迫人民。他在鬧市豎一長竿，竿頂置一頂帽子，勒令行人向帽子鞠躬。農民射手退爾經過時，抗命不從而被捕。總督令在退爾的兒子的頭上置一蘋果，命退爾射之。如射中蘋果，可免其罪。退爾在身上另藏一箭，準備在不幸射中自己的孩子時以另箭射死總督。退爾射中了蘋果，但總督食言，逮捕了退爾。後退爾終於射死了總督，被擁爲領袖，反抗奧地利統治者，瑞士終得自由。十指聖女貞德。關於她，席勒寫過《奧爾良的姑娘》。參見《通向榮譽的荊棘路》注14.
