Unit 9A - Song of Defiance
They confronted the Nazis with the only weapon they had: their voice.
Song of Defiance
Fergus M. Bordewich
When you walk the cobbled mist-shrouded streets of Terezin in the Czech Republic, your mind fills with images of the village sixty years ago, when it was a Nazi concentration camp packed with desperate and dying Jews. But Terezin was not only a place of suffering. It was also a scene of triumph
Terezin had been a perverse kind of showcase. In contrast to Auschwitz, Treblinka and other extermination camps, the Nazis designed the town near Prague to fool the world. For much of World War II, Nazi propaganda suggested that Jews there enjoyed a life of leisure, even using captive Jewish filmmakers to craft a movie showing “happy” Jews listening to lectures and basking in the sun. The reality was horribly different. As many as 58,000 Jews were stuffed into a town that had originally held 7,000. Medical supplies were almost nonexistent, beds were infested with vermin and toilets overflowed. Of the 150,000 prisoners who passed through Terezin, 35,000 died there, mostly from disease and hunger.
Yet the camp made concessions for propaganda purposes. SS troops were posted outside the fortress, while daily activity was overseen by a Jewish “Council of Elders,” which turned a blind eye to inmates' activities, unless they might attract Nazi attention.
So, amid the pervasive atmosphere of death, writers managed to write, painters to paint, and composers to compose. Among them was Rafael Schaechter, a conductor in his mid-30s. Charismatic, with a striking face and wavy, dark hair, Schaechter was just beginning to make a name for himself in the rich cultural mix of prewar Prague. He had scarcely thought of himself as Jewish at all, until he was seized by the Nazis.
As his months in the camp stretched into years, and more and more Jews disappeared eastward on Nazi transports, Schaechter's fury at his captors steadily grew. And then he thought of a daring plan.
He confessed his idea to his roommate in a single sentence: “We can sing to the Nazis what we can't say to them.”
Their weapon was to be Verdi's Requiem.
Everything that Schaechter wanted to say lay camouflaged within the Latin words of the Requiem, with its themes of God's wrath and human liberation. Schaechter had access to no musical instruments except a broken harmonium found in a rubbish heap. Other than that, he had only human voices to work with. Throwing himself into the plan, he managed to recruit 150 singers.
Among the group was a brown-eyed teenager named Marianka May. During her 12-hour workday, she labored at everything from scrubbing windows to making tobacco pouches for German soldiers. At night, however, she slipped away to join the choir, where she felt lifted up by Verdi's music and Schaechter's passion. “Without Rafi Schaechter, we'd never have survived,” says May, one of the tiny handful of chorus members to live through the war. “He saved us through his music.”
Aching with hunger, sopranos and altos, tenors and basses would take their places, while Schaechter pounded out Verdi's towering themes on the harmonium. Since there was only a single score, the singers had to memorize their parts, in Latin, a language that few besides Schaechter understood.
When they rehearsed the key section called “Day of Wrath,” Schaechter explained that it meant God would judge all men — including the Nazis — by their deeds and they would one day pay for their crimes against the Jews. “We are putting a mirror to them,” he said. “Their fate is sealed.”
Although the Germans had spies among the prisoners, Schaechter managed to keep the real meaning behind the chorus's rehearsals a secret. Still, the camp's Jewish elders were upset. “The Germans will deport your whole chorus, and hang you,” they warned Schaechter at a stormy meeting.
That night Schaechter told his chorus, “What we are doing is dangerous. If anyone wants to leave, you may go.”
No one left.
At last, in the autumn of 1943, all was ready. The first performance took place for prisoners gathered in a former gymnasium. Someone had found an old piano missing a leg and propped it on a crate. During the performance, a technician kept it in tune with a pair of pliers.
Verdi's music burned through the audience like an electrical charge, and many remember it as one of the most powerful events of their lives. The Requiem was like food put in front of them. They gnawed at it from sheer hunger.
Over the ensuing months, the Requiem was repeated several times for additional audiences of prisoners.
Then Schaechter received an order from the camp's commandant to stage a command performance of the Requiem. This would be “in honor” of a visit by Red Cross representatives who, fooled by the Nazis, would notoriously report that the Jews were living in comfort at Terezin. There would also be high Nazi officials present — among them, an SS lieutenant colonel named Adolf Eichmann. The scene was set for a face-to-face confrontation between defiant Jews and the man behind the Final Solution.
Despite his best efforts, Schaechter could muster only 60 singers for the chorus. Emaciated, they gathered on the small stage. Eichmann sat in the front row, dressed in full Nazi regalia. The Jews looked the Nazis in their eyes, and their voices swelled as they sang:
The day of wrath, that day shall dissolve the world in ash. … What trembling there shall be when the judge shall come. … Nothing shall remain unavenged.
When the performance ended, there was no applause. The Nazis rose in silence. As he left, Eichmann was heard to say, with a smirk, “So they're singing their own requiem.” He never realized the Jews were singing his.
Soon after, Schaechter and nearly all his chorus members were loaded into boxcars bound for Auschwitz. Schaechter was never seen again.
Marianka May was among those freed when Allied troops reached Terezin. “I believed in nothing in that camp,” says May, with a look in her eyes that takes in both the death-filled streets of Terezin and the soothing hills of upstate New York, where she now lives. “I would say to myself, ‘Is God there? If so, then how could these children be dying?' Schaechter wasn't a religious man. But what was it but God that he gave us in the music?”
参考译文——反抗之歌
他们用他们唯一的武器—歌喉—与纳粹对抗。
反抗之歌
弗格斯·博德威奇
当你行走在捷克共和国特雷津的雾气笼罩的铺着石子的街道上的时候，心里便会充满着这座村子的六十年前的景象，当时那里是一座塞满了绝望的奄奄一息的犹太人的纳粹集中营。然而，特雷津并非仅仅是个遭受苦难的地方，它还是个赢得胜利的场所。
特雷津曾经是处有点反常的展示橱窗。与奥斯威辛、特雷布林卡等灭绝人的集中营不同，纳粹将这座位于布拉格附近的村镇刻意打扮以欺骗世人。第二次世界大战期间的许多时间里，纳粹的宣传机器宣传犹太人在那里过着悠闲的生活，他们甚至利用被抓捕的犹太制片人杜撰情节拍摄了一部电影，展示“愉快的”犹太人在听讲座和在晒太阳。而现实却是迥然不同。这座原本只能容纳7千人的小镇如今却挤着5万8千个犹太人。几乎没有什么医疗设施，床上到处爬满虱子等害虫，厕所里污水外溢。曾在特雷津待过的15万人中，3万5千人死在那里，多数死于疾病和饥饿。
出于宣传目的，集中营方面也做过一些让步。党卫队只在城堡的外面设岗，营内日常活动由一个犹太人“长老委员会”监管。只要关押在里面的人的言行不引起纳粹的注意，该委员会装着视而不见。
于是，在弥漫着死亡的氛围中，作家勉强还能写，画家勉强还能画，作曲家勉强还能作曲。其中，有位名叫拉斐尔·沙克特的年约三十五六的音乐指挥。他长得相貌堂堂，一头乌黑鬈发，显得很有魅力。在战前布拉格的浓浓的多元文化氛围中他刚崭露头角。纳粹逮捕他之前，他压根儿就没有想过他是犹太人。
他在集中营里关了经年累月，眼见越来越多的犹太人消失在东运的纳粹车辆中，沙克特对抓捕他的人的愤怒与日俱增。于是他想到了一个大胆的计划。
他用一句话向他的室友吐露了他的想法：“我们可以用歌声向纳粹表达我们无法向他们直接说的话。”
他们的武器便是威尔第的《安魂曲》。
沙克特想要说的话统统被掩饰在以上帝的愤懑和人类的解放为主题的《安魂曲》的拉丁词语中了。沙克特仅有的乐器只是从垃圾堆中找来的一架簧风琴，除此而外，他便只好靠人的嗓子了。为实施这一计划他全身心都投入了，他设法招募到150名歌手。
其中有一位是生着一对棕色眼睛的名叫马里安卡·梅的十多岁的少女。她每天得工作12小时，从擦窗户到为德军士兵制作烟荷包，什么都得干。然而晚上她常溜去参加合唱队，在那里，威尔第的音乐和沙克特的激情使她受到鼓舞。“没有拉斐尔·沙克特，我们不会活下来，”梅说。她是少数几位在战争中幸免于难的合唱队成员之一。“他用音乐拯救了我们。”
沙克特在簧风琴上强有力地奏出威尔第的崇高主题时，女高音和男声最高音歌手们， 男高音和男低音歌手们，强忍饥饿的折磨，均各就各位。他们只有唯一的一份乐谱，歌手们只得强行记住自己那部分的用拉丁文谱写的乐曲，而懂得拉丁文的，除沙克特外就很少有人了。
当他们排练被称之为“愤怒之日”的最主要的一章时，沙克特解释说，这意味着上帝将根据人们的所作所为来裁判所有的人—包括纳粹们，他们终将要为他们对犹太人犯下的罪行受到惩罚。“我们正在他们面前树立一面镜子，”他说，“他们逃脱不了末日的来临。”
尽管德国人在关押的人中安插了奸细，沙克特还是设法将合唱团排练的真正意图掩盖了起来。然而集中营的犹太長老们依然十分不安。“德国人会把合唱团的人统统放逐并绞死你们的，”他们在一次争论得异常激烈的会议上告诫沙克特说。
那天晚上，沙克特对合唱团的人说道：“我们在干的是一件危险的事情。如果哪位想走，请自便。”
没有一个人离开。
终于在1943年的秋天一切都准备就绪。在从前的一所健身房里，他们为关押在集中营里的人们演出了第一场。有人找来一架缺了一条腿的旧钢琴，用一只板条箱支撑着。演出时，一位技师用一把钳子调音。
威尔第的音乐像电一般顷刻燃遍听众。许多人迄今仍记得那是他们一生中所遇到的最有震撼力的事件之一。《安魂曲》如同放在人们面前的佳肴，饥饿使得他们拚命地啃噬着。
在接下来的几个月中，《安魂曲》反复上演了数次，以便让更多的关在集中营的人们看到。
随后，沙克特接到集中营司令官的安排一场专场演出的命令。这场演出是为了欢迎国际红十字会的代表们的，他们被纳粹愚弄竟胡说什么犹太人在特雷津日子过得很舒适。来看的还有纳粹的高官们，其中一位是名叫阿道夫·艾希曼的党卫队的陆军中校。于是演出便成了无畏的犹太人与操纵灭绝犹太人计划者之间的一场面对面的对抗。
尽管作了最大努力，沙克特只能召集到60名合唱歌手。骨瘦如柴的他们聚集在小小的舞台上，艾希曼身着纳粹的全副戎装坐在前排。犹太人的目光直逼纳粹们，他们越唱越激昂：
愤怒之日到来之际必将这世界化为灰烬……审判来到之时颤栗吧……有仇必报。
演出结束，没有任何掌声。纳粹们默默地起身离座。艾希曼临走时，有人听到他得意地笑着说：“他们在给自己唱挽歌哪。”他永远也不会知道犹太人是在给他唱挽歌呢。
演出后不久，沙克特和合唱团的几乎全体团员便被装载进去奧斯威辛方问的车厢，没有人再看见过他。
Key Words:
scene [si:n]
n. 场，景，情景
defiance [di'faiəns]
n. 蔑视，违抗，挑衅
concentration [.kɔnsen'treiʃən]
n. 集中，专心，浓度
craft [krɑ:ft]
n. 工艺，手艺，狡诈，航空器，行会成员
vt
nonexistent [,nɔniɡ'zistənt]
adj. 不存在的
desperate ['despərit]
adj. 绝望的，不顾一切的
contrast ['kɔntræst,kən'træst]
n. 差别，对比，对照物
v. 对比，成对照<
triumph ['traiəmf]
n. 凯旋，欢欣
vi. 得胜，成功，庆功
propaganda [.prɔpə'gændə,prɔpə'gændə]
n. 宣传，宣传的内容
rubbish ['rʌbiʃ]
n. 垃圾，废物，废话
v. 贬损
except [ik'sept]
vt. 除，除外
prep. & conj.
conductor [kən'dʌktə]
n. 售票员，导体，指挥
pervasive [pə:'veisiv]
adj. 普遍的，蔓延的，渗透的
charismatic [.kæriz'mætik]
adj. 有魅力的
requiem ['ri:kwiəm]
n. 安魂曲，安灵曲
recruit [ri'kru:t]
v. 招募，征兵，吸收(新成员)，补充
striking ['straikiŋ]
adj. 吸引人的，显著的
n. 打击
compose [kəm'pəuz]
vt. 组成，写作，作曲，使镇静
score [skɔ:]
n. 得分，刻痕，二十，乐谱
vt. 记分，刻
choir [kwaiə]
n. 唱诗班，唱诗班的席位
upset [ʌp'set]
adj. 心烦的，苦恼的，不安的
v. 推翻，
labored ['leibəd]
adj. 吃力的；费劲的；不自然的 v. 工作；劳动；分
passion ['pæʃən]
n. 激情，酷爱
towering ['tauəriŋ]
adj. 高耸的，激烈的，杰出的 动词tower的现在分
deport [di'pɔ:t]
vt. 驱逐出境，举止
chorus ['kɔ:rəs]
n. 合唱队，歌舞队，齐声说道，副歌部分，
solution [sə'lu:ʃən]
n. 解答，解决办法，溶解，溶液
sheer [ʃiə]
adj. 纯粹的，全然的，陡峭的
scene [si:n]
n. 场，景，情景
crate [kreit]
n. 板条箱，篓子，旧汽车 vt. 装进纸条箱
notoriously [nəu'tɔ:riəsli]
adv. 臭名昭著地，众所周知地
additional [ə'diʃənl]
adj. 附加的，另外的
performance [pə'fɔ:məns]
n. 表演，表现; 履行，实行
n. 性能，本
command [kə'mɑ:nd]
n. 命令，指挥，控制
v. 命令，指挥，支配
tune [tju:n]
n. 曲调，调子，和谐，协调，调整
vt. 调
defiant [di'faiənt]
adj. 挑衅的，目中无人
performance [pə'fɔ:məns]
n. 表演，表现; 履行，实行
n. 性能，本
row [rəu,rau]
n. 排，船游，吵闹
vt. 划船，成排
silence ['sailəns]
n. 沉默，寂静
vt. 使安静，使沉默
dissolve [di'zɔlv]
vt. 消除，解散，使溶解，解决(问题), 使沮丧
chorus ['kɔ:rəs]
n. 合唱队，歌舞队，齐声说道，副歌部分，
v
smirk [smə:k]
v. 假笑，得意地笑 n. 假笑，傻笑
applause [ə'plɔ:z]
n. 鼓掌，喝彩，赞许
v. 鼓掌
requiem ['ri:kwiəm]
n. 安魂曲，安灵曲
soothing ['su:ðiŋ]
adj. 使人宽心的；抚慰的 v. 安慰；减轻痛苦（so
muster ['mʌstə]
v. 集合，收集，鼓起，激起
参考资料：
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