《最高贵的乐器》（“The Noblest Instrument”）是美国著名作家克劳伦斯·戴伊（Clarence Day， 1874—1935）最著名的自传体作品《与父亲一起生活的日子》（Life with Father）中的一篇。作者的父亲老克劳伦斯很重视儿子们的教育，包括音乐教育。有一天，老克劳伦斯决定开始让作者学小提琴，并请了德国老师M先生为他授课。
从此以后全家人不得不忍受作者练琴时发出的难听的声音，更悲惨的是整条街道的人都被迫听他从地下室里发出的杀鸡宰鸭般的练琴声。作者不想学下去了，他母亲也受不了了，她把邻居的抱怨转达给丈夫，并恳求他让儿子停止拉琴。但父亲却不肯退让，也不愿意接受事实，因为接受事实就意味着认输……
A ll during the long winter months I worked away at this job. I gave no thought， of course， to the family. But they did to me. Our house was heated by a furnace（火炉，暖气炉）， which had big warm air pipes； these ran up through the walls with wide outlets into each room， and sound traveled easily and ringingly through their roomy， tin passages. My violin could be heard in every part of the house. No one could settle down to anything while I was practicing. If visitors came they soon left. Mother couldn’t even sing to the baby. She would wait， watching the clock， until my long hour of scale-work was over， and then come downstairs and shriek（尖聲叫喊）at me that my time was up. She would find me sawing away（拉琴弓）with my forehead wet， and my hair wet and stringy（因汗水打湿头发，变得一绺一绺的）， and even my clothes slowly getting damp from my exertions（努力）. She would feel my collar， which was done for， and say I must change it. “Oh， Mother！ Please！”—for I was in a hurry now to run out and play. But she wasn’t being fussy（过分挑剔的）about my collar， I can see， looking back； she was using it merely as a barometer（气压计，晴雨表）or gauge（测量仪器，判断标准）of my pores（毛孔）. She thought I had better dry myself before going out in the snow.
It was hard winter for Mother. I believe she also had fears for the baby. She sometimes pleaded with（向……恳求）Father； but no one could ever tell Father anything. He continued to stand like a rock against stopping my lessons.
Schopenhauer*， in his rules for debating， shows how to win a weak case by insidiously（阴险地）transferring an argument from its right field（从右外场，有利位置）， and discussing it instead from some irrelevant but impregnable（无法攻取的）angle. Father knew nothing of Schopenhaur， and was never insidious， but， nevertheless， he had certain natural gifts for debate. In the first place his voice was powerful and stormy， and he let it out at full strength， and kept on letting it out with a vigor that stunned his opponents（使对手震惊）. As a second gift， he was convinced at all times that his opponents were wrong. Hence， even if they did win a point or two， it did them no good， for he dragged the issue to some other ground（把争论的问题扯到别的地方）then， where he and Truth could prevail（获胜）. When Mother said it surely was plain（显而易见的）enough that I had no ear， what was his reply？ Why， he said that the violin was the noblest instrument invented by man. Having silenced her with this solid premise（前提，假定）he declared that it followed that any boy was lucky to be given the privilege of learning to play it. No boy should expect to learn it immediately. It required persistence. Everything， he had found， required persistence. The motto was， Never give up.
All his life， he declared， he had persevered（坚持不懈）in spite of discouragement， and he meant to keep on persevering， and he had had to go through. If he had been the kind that gave up at the very first obstacle， where would he have been now—where would any of the family have been？ The answer was， apparently， that we’d either have been in a very bad way， poking round for crusts in the gutter（在阴沟里找面包屑）， or else nonexistent. We might have never even been born if Father had not persevered.
Placed beside this record of Father’s vast trials， overcome the little difficulty of my learning to play the violin seemed a trifle（不足挂齿）. I faithfully spurred myself on（激励自己继续学琴）again， to work at the puzzle. Even my teacher seemed impressed with these views on persistence. Though older than Father， he had had certainly not made as much money， and he bowed to（顺从）the experience of a practical man who was a success. If he， Herr M.， had been a success he would not have had to teach boys； and sitting in this black pit in which his need of money had placed him， he saw more than ever that he must learn the ways of this world. He listened with all his heart， as to a god， when Father shook his forefinger， and told him how to climb to the heights where financial rewards were achieved. The idea he got was that perseverance was sure to lead to great wealth.
Consequently our front basement continued to be the home of lost causes（注定要失败的事业）.
Of course， I kept begging Herr M. to let me learn just one tune. Even though I seldom could whistle them， still I liked tunes； and I knew that， in my hours of practicing， a tune would be a comfort. That is， for myself. Here again I never gave a thought to the effect upon others.
Herr M.， after many misgivings（疑虑）， to which I respectfully listened—though they were not spoken to me， they were muttered（嘀咕）to himself， pessimistically（悲观地）—hunted through a worn old book of selections， and after much doubtful fumbling（说话支支吾吾的）chose as simple a thing as he could find for me—for me and the neighbors.
It was spring now， and windows were open. That tune became famous.
What would the musician who had tenderly composed this air（曲调）， years before， have felt if he had foreseen what an end it would have， on Madison Avenue； and how， before death， it would be execrated（詛咒，痛骂）by that once peaceful neighborhood. I engraved（深深印刻）it on their hearts； not in its true form but in my own eerie（怪异的）versions. It was the only tune I knew. Consequently I played it and replayed it.
Even horrors when repeated grow old and lost part of their sting（刺痛）. But those I produced were， unluckily， never the same. To be sure， this tune kept its general structure the same， even in my sweating hands. There was always the place where I climbed unsteadily up to its peak， and that difficult spot where it wavered（摇曳）， or staggered， and stuck； and then a sudden jerk（抽搐，形容作者拉出来的琴声）of resumption（重新开始）—I came out strong on that. Every afternoon when I got to that difficult spot， the neighbors dropped whatever they were doing to wait for that jerk， shrinking from the moment， and yet feverishly（狂热地）impatient for it to come.
But what made the tune and their anguish（痛苦）so different each day？ I’ll explain. The strings of a violin are wound（缠绕）at the end around pegs（琴栓）， and each peg must be screwed in（旋入）and tightened till the string sounds just right. Herr M. left my violin properly tuned when he went. But suppose a string broke， or that somehow I jarred a peg loose（把琴栓震松了）. Its string then became slack（松弛）and soundless. I had to re-tighten it. Not having an ear， I was highly uncertain about this.
Our neighbors never knew at what degree of tautness（紧度）I’d put such a string. I didn’t myself. I just screwed her up tight enough to make a strong reliable sound. Neither they nor I could tell which string would thus appear in a new role each day， nor foresee the profound transformations this would produce in that tune（因某根弦的松紧程度而使这根弦上的音改变多少）.
All that spring this unhappy and ill-destined melody floated out through my window， and writhed（翻滚）in the air for one hour daily， in sunshine or storm. All that spring our neighbors and I daily toiled to（艰难地前进）its peak， and staggered over its hump（完成最困难的部分）， so to speak， and fell wailing（哀嚎地）through space.
Things now began to be said to Mother which drove her to act. She explained to Father that the end had come at last. Absolutely. “This awful nightmare cannot go on，” she said.
Father pooh-poohed（藐视）her.
She cried. She told him what it was doing to her. He said that she was excited， and that her descriptions of the sounds I made were exaggerated and hysterical（歇斯底里的）—must be. She was always too vehement（激烈的）， he shouted. She must learn to be calm.
“But you’re downtown（在市中心）， you don’t have to hear it！”
Father remained wholly skeptical.
She endeavored（試图）to shame him. She told him what awful things the neighbors were saying about him， because of the noise I was making， for which he was responsible.
He couldn’t be made to look at it that way. If there really were any unpleasantness then I was responsible. He had provided me with a good teacher and a good violin—so he reasoned. In short， he had done his best， and no father could have done more. If I made hideous（可怕的）sounds after all that， the fault must be mine. He said that Mother should be stricter with me， if necessary， and make me try harder.
This was the last straw（使人無法忍受的最后一击）. I couldn’t try harder. When Mother told me his verdict（最后决定）I said nothing， but my body rebelled. Self-discipline had its limits—and I wanted to be out： it was spring. I skimped（克扣）my hours of practice when I heard the fellows playing outside. I came home late for lessons—even forgot them. Little by little they stopped.
Father was outraged. His final argument， I remember， was that my violin had cost twenty-five dollars； if I didn’t learn it the money would be wasted， and he couldn’t afford it. But it was put to him that my younger brother， Julian， could learn it instead， later on. Then summer came， anyhow， and we went for three months to the seashore； and in the confusion of this Father was defeated and I was set free.
In the autumn little Julian was led away one afternoon， and imprisoned in the front basement in my place. I don’t remember how long they kept him down there， but it was several years. He had an ear， however， and I believe he learned to play fairly well. This would have made a happy ending for Herr M. after all； but it was some other teacher， a younger man， who was engaged to teach Julian. Father said Herr M. was a failure.