what the moon saw-第2部分

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was　present　at　the　performance　from　beginning　to　end。〃

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　FIFTH　EVENING



　　　　〃Yesterday；〃　began　the　Moon；　〃I　looked　down　upon　the　turmoil　of

Paris。　My　eye　penetrated　into　an　apartment　of　the　Louvre。　An　old

grandmother；　poorly　clad…　she　belonged　to　the　working　class…　was

following　one　of　the　under…servants　into　the　great　empty

throne…room；　for　this　was　the　apartment　she　wanted　to　see…　that　she

was　resolved　to　see；　it　had　cost　her　many　a　little　sacrifice；　and　many

a　coaxing　word；　to　penetrate　thus　far。　She　folded　her　thin　hands；

and　looked　round　with　an　air　of　reverence；　as　if　she　had　been　in　a

church。

　　　　〃'Here　it　was！'　she　said；　'here！'　and　she　approached　the　throne；

from　which　hung　the　rich　velvet　fringed　with　gold　lace。　'There；'　she

exclaimed；　'there！'　and　she　knelt　and　kissed　the　purple　carpet。　I

think　she　was　actually　weeping。

　　　　〃'But　it　was　not　this　very　velvet！'　observed　the　footman；　and　a

smile　played　about　his　mouth。　'True；　but　it　was　this　very　place；'

replied　the　woman；　'and　it　must　have　looked　just　like　this。　'It　looked

so；　and　yet　it　did　not；'　observed　the　man：　'the　windows　were　beaten

in；　and　the　doors　were　off　their　hinges；　and　there　was　blood　upon

the　floor。'　'But　for　all　that　you　can　say；　my　grandson　died　upon　the

throne　of　France。　Died！'　mournfully　repeated　the　old　woman。　I　do　not

think　another　word　was　spoken；　and　they　soon　quitted　the　hall。　The

evening　twilight　faded　and　my　light　shone　doubly　vivid　upon　the　rich

velvet　that　covered　the　throne　of　France。

　　　　〃Now　who　do　you　think　this　poor　woman　was？　Listen；　I　will　tell　you

a　story。

　　　　〃It　happened；　in　the　Revolution　of　July；　on　the　evening　of　the

most　brilliantly　victorious　day；　when　every　house　was　a　fortress；

every　window　a　breastwork。　The　people　stormed　the　Tuileries。　Even

women　and　children　were　to　be　found　among　the　combatants。　They

penetrated　into　the　apartments　and　halls　of　the　palace。　A　poor

half…grown　boy　in　a　ragged　blouse　fought　among　the　older　insurgents。

Mortally　wounded　with　several　bayonet　thrusts；　he　sank　down。　This

happened　in　the　throne…room。　They　laid　the　bleeding　youth　upon　the

throne　of　France；　wrapped　the　velvet　around　his　wounds；　and　his

blood　streamed　forth　upon　the　imperial　purple。　There　was　a　picture！

The　splendid　hall；　the　fighting　groups！　A　torn　flag　upon　the　ground；

the　tricolor　was　waving　above　the　bayonets；　and　on　the　throne　lay

the　poor　lad　with　the　pale　glorified　countenance；　his　eyes　turned

towards　the　sky；　his　limbs　writhing　in　the　death　agony；　his　breast

bare；　and　his　poor　tattered　clothing　half　hidden　by　the　rich　velvet

embroidered　with　silver　lilies。　At　the　boy's　cradle　a　prophecy　had

been　spoken：　'He　will　die　on　the　throne　of　France！'　The　mother's　heart

dreamt　of　a　second　Napoleon。

　　　　〃My　beams　have　kissed　the　wreath　of　immortelles　on　his　grave；

and　this　night　they　kissed　the　forehead　of　the　old　grandame；　while

in　a　dream　the　picture　floated　before　her　which　thou　mayest　draw…

the　poor　boy　on　the　throne　of　France。〃

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　SIXTH　EVENING



　　　　〃I've　been　in　Upsala；〃　said　the　Moon：　〃I　looked　down　upon　the

great　plain　covered　with　coarse　grass；　and　upon　the　barren　fields。　I

mirrored　my　face　in　the　Tyris　river；　while　the　steamboat　drove　the

fish　into　the　rushes。　Beneath　me　floated　the　waves；　throwing　long

shadows　on　the　so…called　graves　of　Odin；　Thor；　and　Friga。　In　the

scanty　turf　that　covers　the　hill…side　names　have　been　cut。　There　is　no

monument　here；　no　memorial　on　which　the　traveller　can　have　his　name

carved；　no　rocky　wall　on　whose　surface　he　can　get　it　painted；　so

visitors　have　the　turf　cut　away　for　that　purpose。　The　naked　earth

peers　through　in　the　form　of　great　letters　and　names；　these　form　a

network　over　the　whole　hill。　Here　is　an　immortality；　which　lasts

till　the　fresh　turf　grows！

　　　　〃Up　on　the　hill　stood　a　man；　a　poet。　He　emptied　the　mead　horn　with

the　broad　silver　rim；　and　murmured　a　name。　He　begged　the　winds　not

to　betray　him；　but　I　heard　the　name。　I　knew　it。　A　count's　coronet

sparkles　above　it；　and　therefore　he　did　not　speak　it　out。　I　smiled；

for　I　knew　that　a　poet's　crown　adorns　his　own　name。　The　nobility　of

Eleanora　d'Este　is　attached　to　the　name　of　Tasso。　And　I　also　know

where　the　Rose　of　Beauty　blooms！〃

　　　　Thus　spake　the　Moon；　and　a　cloud　came　between　us。　May　no　cloud

separate　the　poet　from　the　rose！

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　SEVENTH　EVENING



　　　　〃Along　the　margin　of　the　shore　stretches　a　forest　of　firs　and

beeches；　and　fresh　and　fragrant　is　this　wood；　hundreds　of　nightingales

visit　it　every　spring。　Close　beside　it　is　the　sea；　the　ever…changing

sea；　and　between　the　two　is　placed　the　broad　high…road。　One　carriage

after　another　rolls　over　it；　but　I　did　not　follow　them；　for　my　eye

loves　best　to　rest　upon　one　point。　A　Hun's　Grave　lies　there；　and　the

sloe　and　blackthorn　grow　luxuriantly　among　the　stones。　Here　is　true

poetry　in　nature。

　　　　〃And　how　do　you　think　men　appreciate　this　poetry？　I　will　tell

you　what　I　heard　there　last　evening　and　during　the　night。

　　　　〃First；　two　rich　landed　proprietors　came　driving　by。　'Those　are

glorious　trees！'　said　the　first。　'Certainly；　there　are　ten　loads　of

firewood　in　each；'　observed　the　other：　'it　will　be　a　hard　winter；

and　last　year　we　got　fourteen　dollars　a　load'…　and　they　were　gone。

'The　road　here　is　wretched；'　observed　another　man　who　drove　past。

'That's　the　fault　of　those　horrible　trees；'　replied　his　neighbour；

'there　is　no　free　current　of　air；　the　wind　can　only　come　from　the

sea'…　and　they　were　gone。　The　stage　coach　went　rattling　past。　All

the　passengers　were　asleep　at　this　beautiful　spot。　The　postillion　blew

his　horn；　but　he　only　thought；　'I　can　play　capitally。　It　sounds　well

here。　I　wonder　if　those　in　there　like　it？'…　and　the　stage　coach

vanished。　Then　two　young　fellows　came　gallopping　up　on　horseback。

There's　youth　and　spirit　in　the　blood　here！　thought　I；　and；　indeed；

they　looked　with　a　smile　at　the　moss…grown　hill　and　thick　forest。　'I

should　not　dislike　a　walk　here　with　the　miller's　Christine；'　said　one…

and　they　flew　past。

　　　　〃The　flowers　scented　the　air；　every　breath　of　air　was　hushed；　it

seemed　as　if　the　sea　were　a　part　of　the　sky　that　stretched　above　the

deep　valley。　A　carriage　rolled　by。　Six　people　were　sitting　in　it。　Four

of　them　were　asleep；　the　fifth　was　thinking　of　his　new　summer　coat；

which　would　suit　him　admirably；　the　sixth　turned　to　the　coachman　and

asked　him　if　there　were　anything　remarkable　connected　with　yonder　heap

of　stones。　'No；'　replied　the　coachman；　'it's　only　a　heap　of　stones；

but　the　trees　are　remarkable。'　'How　so？'　'Why　I'll　tell　you　how　they

are　very　remarkable。　You　see；　in　winter；　when　the　snow　lies　very　deep；

and　has　hidden　the　whole　road　so　that　nothing　is　to　be　seen；　those

trees　serve　me　for　a　landmark。　I　steer　by　them；　so　as　not　to　drive

into　the　sea；　and　you　see　that　is　why　the　trees　are　remarkable。'

　　　　〃Now　came　a　painter。　He　spoke　not　a　word；　but　his　eyes　sparkled。

He　began　to　whistle。　At　this　the　nightingales　sang　louder　than　ever。

'Hold　your　tongues！'　he　cried　testily；　and　he　made　accurate　notes　of

all　the　colours　and　transitions…　blue；　and　lilac；　and　dark　brown。

'That　will　make　a　beautiful　picture；'　he　said。　He　took　it　in　just　as　a

mirror　takes　in　a　view；　and　as　he　worked　he　whistled　a　march　of

Rossini。　And　last　of　all　came　a　poor　girl。　She　laid　aside　the　burden

she　carried；　and　sat　down　to　rest　upon　the　Hun's　Grave。　Her　pale

handsome　face　was　bent　in　a　listening　attitude　towards　the　forest。　Her

eyes　brightened；　she　gazed　earnestly　at　the　sea　and　the　sky；　her　hands

were　folded；　and　I　think　she　prayed；　'Our　Father。'　She　herself　could

not　understand　the　feeling　that　swept　through　her；　but　I　know　that

this　minute；　and　the　beautiful　natural　scene；　will　live　within　her

memory　for　years；　far　more　vividly　and　more　truly　than　the　painter

could　portray　it　with　his　colours　on　paper。　My　rays　followed　her

till　the　morning　dawn　kissed　her　brow。〃

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　EIGHTH　EVENING



　　　　Heavy　clouds　obscured　the　sky；　and　the　Moon　did　not　make　his

appearance　at　all。　I　stood　in　my　little　room；　more　lonely　than　ever；

and　looked　up　at　the　sky　where　he　ought　to　have　shown　himself。　My

thoughts　flew　far　away；　up　to　my　great　friend；　who　every　evening

told　me　such　pretty　tales；　and　showed　me　pictures。　Yes；　he　has　had

an　experience　indeed。　He　glided　over　the　waters　of　the　Deluge；　and

smiled　on　Noah's　ark　just　as　he　lately　glanced　down　upon　me；　and

brought　comfort　and　promise　of　a　new　world　that　was　to　spring　forth

from　the　old。　When　the　Children　of　Israel　sat　weeping　by　the　waters　of

Babylon；　he　glanced　mournfully　upon　the　willows　where　hung　the

silent　harps。　When　Romeo　climbed　the　balcony；　and　the　promise　of

true　love　fluttered　like　a　cherub　toward　heaven；　the　round　Moon

hung；　half　hidden　among　the　dark　cypresses；　in　the　lucid　air。　He　saw

the　captive　giant　at　St。　Helena；　looking　from　the　lonely　rock　across

the　wide　ocean；　while　great　thoughts　swept　through　his　soul。　Ah！

what　tales　the　Moon　can　tell。　Human　life　is　like　a　story　to　him。

To…night　I　shall　not　see　thee　again；　old　friend。　Tonight　I　can　draw　no

picture　of　the　memories　of　thy　visit。　And；　as　I　looked　dreamily

towards　the　clouds；　the　sky　became　bright。　There　was　a　glancing　light；

and　a　beam　from　the　Moon　fell　upon　me。　It　vanished　again；　and　dark

clouds　flew　past：　but　still　it　was　a　greeting；　a　friendly　good…night

offered　to　me　by　the　Moon。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　NINTH　EVENING



　　　　The　air　was　clear　again。　Several　evenings　had　passed；　and　the　Moon

was　in　the　first　quarter。　Again　he　gave　me　an　outline　for　a　sketch。

Listen　to　what　he　told　me。

　　　　〃I　have　followed　the　polar　bird　and　the　swimming　whale　to　the

eastern　coast　of　Greenland。　Gaunt　ice…covered　rocks　and　dark　clouds

hung　over　a　valley；　where　dwarf　willows　and　barberry　bushes　stood

clothed　in　green。　The　blooming　lychnis　exhaled　sweet　odours。　My

light　was　faint；　my　face　pale　as　the　water　lily　that；　torn　from　its

stem；　has　been　drifting　for　weeks　with　the　tide。　The　crown…shaped

Northern　Light