安徒生童话-第21部分

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h　is；　after　all；　the　most　wonderful　of　all　romances。　It's　apity　one　can't　read　the　first　volume　of　it；　because　it　is　written　in　alanguage　that　we　don't　understand。　One　must　read　in　the　differentstrata；　in　the　pebble…stones；　for　each　separate　period。　Yes；　it　is　aromance；　a　very　wonderful　romance；　and　we　all　have　our　place　in　it。　Wegrope　and　ferret　about；　and　yet　remain　where　we　are；　but　the　ballkeeps　turning；　without　emptying　the　ocean　over　us；　the　clod　on　whichwe　move　about；　holds；　and　does　not　let　us　through。　And　then　it's　astory　that　has　been　acting　for　thousands　upon　thousands　of　years　andis　still　going　on。　My　best　thanks　for　the　book　about　the　boulders。Those　are　fellows　indeed！　They　could　tell　us　something　worthhearing；　if　they　only　knew　how　to　talk。　It's　really　a　pleasure　now　andthen　to　bee　a　mere　nothing；　especially　when　a　man　is　as　highlyplaced　as　I　am。　And　then　to　think　that　we　all；　even　with　patentlacquer；　are　nothing　more　than　insects　of　a　moment　on　that　ant…hillthe　earth；　though　we　may　be　insects　with　stars　and　garters；　places　andoffices！　One　feels　quite　a　novice　beside　these　venerablemillion…year…old　boulders。　On　last　New　Year's　eve　I　was　reading　thebook；　and　had　lost　myself　in　it　so　pletely；　that　I　forgot　myusual　New　Year's　diversion；　namely；　the　wild　hunt　to　Amack。　Ah；　youdon't　know　what　that　is！

〃The　journey　of　the　witches　on　broomsticks　is　well　enough　known…that　journey　is　taken　on　St。　John's　eve；　to　the　Brocken；　but　we　have　awild　journey；　also　which　is　national　and　modern；　and　that　is　thejourney　to　Amack　on　the　night　of　the　New　Year。　All　indifferent　poetsand　poetesses；　musicians；　newspaper　writers；　and　artisticnotabilities；…　I　mean　those　who　are　no　good；…　ride　in　the　New　Year'snight　through　the　air　to　Amack。　They　sit　backwards　on　their　paintingbrushes　or　quill　pens；　for　steel　pens　won't　bear　them…　they're　toostiff。　As　I　told　you；　I　see　that　every　New　Year's　night；　and　couldmention　the　majority　of　the　riders　by　name；　but　I　should　not　like　todraw　their　enmity　upon　myself；　for　they　don't　like　people　to　talkabout　their　ride　to　Amack　on　quill　pens。　I've　a　kind　of　niece；　whois　a　fishwife；　and　who；　as　she　tells　me；　supplies　three　respectablenewspapers　with　the　terms　of　abuse　and　vituperation　they　use；　andshe　has　herself　been　at　Amack　as　an　invited　guest；　but　she　was　carriedout　thither；　for　she　does　not　own　a　quill　pen；　nor　can　she　ride。　Shehas　told　me　all　about　it。　Half　of　what　she　said　is　not　true；　but　theother　half　gives　us　information　enough。　When　she　was　out　there；　thefestivities　began　with　a　song；　each　of　the　guests　had　written　hisown　song；　and　each　one　sang　his　own　song；　for　he　thought　that　thebest；　and　it　was　all　one；　all　the　same　melody。　Then　those　camemarching　up；　in　little　bands；　who　are　only　busy　with　their　mouths。There　were　ringing　bells　that　rang　alternately；　and　then　came　thelittle　drummers　that　beat　their　tattoo　in　the　family　circle；　andacquaintance　was　made　with　those　who　write　without　putting　theirnames；　which　here　means　as　much　as　using　grease　instead　of　patentblacking；　and　then　there　was　the　beadle　with　his　boy；　and　the　boywas　worst　off；　for　in　general　he　gets　no　notice　taken　of　him；　then；too；　there　was　the　good　street　sweeper　with　his　cart；　who　turns　overthe　dust…bin；　and　calls　it　'good；　very　good；　remarkably　good。'　Andin　the　midst　of　the　pleasure　that　was　afforded　by　the　mere　meetingof　these　folks；　there　shot　up　out　of　the　great　dirt…heap　at　Amack　astem；　a　tree；　an　immense　flower；　a　great　mushroom；　a　perfect　roof；which　formed　a　sort　of　warehouse　for　the　worthy　pany；　for　in　ithung　everything　they　had　given　to　the　world　during　the　Old　Year。　Outof　the　tree　poured　sparks　like　flames　of　fire；　these　were　the　ideasand　thoughts；　borrowed　from　others；　which　they　had　used；　and　which　nowgot　free　and　rushed　away　like　so　many　fireworks。　They　played　at　'thestick　burns；'　and　the　young　poets　played　at　'heart…burns；'　and　thewitlings　played　off　their　jests；　and　the　jests　rolled　away　with　athundering　sound；　as　if　empty　pots　were　being　shattered　against　doors。'It　was　very　amusing！'　my　niece　said；　in　fact；　she　said　many　thingsthat　were　very　malicious　but　very　amusing；　but　I　won't　mention　them；for　a　man　must　be　good…natured；　and　not　a　carping　critic。　But　you　willeasily　perceive　that　when　a　man　once　knows　the　rights　of　the　journeyto　Amack；　as　I　know　them；　it's　quite　natural　that　on　the　New　Year'snight　one　should　look　out　to　see　the　wild　chase　go　by。　If　in　the　NewYear　I　miss　certain　persons　who　used　to　be　there；　I　am　sure　tonotice　others　who　are　new　arrivals；　but　this　year　I　omitted　takingmy　look　at　the　guests；　I　bowled　away　on　the　boulders；　rolled　backthrough　millions　of　years；　and　saw　the　stones　break　loose　high　up　inthe　north；　saw　them　drifting　about　on　icebergs；　long　before　Noah's　arkwas　constructed；　saw　them　sink　down　to　the　bottom　of　the　sea；　andre…appear　with　a　sand…bank；　with　that　one　that　peered　forth　from　theflood　and　said；　'This　shall　be　Zealand！'　I　saw　them　bee　thedwelling…place　of　birds　that　are　unknown　to　us；　and　then　bee　theseat　of　wild　chiefs　of　whom　we　know　nothing；　until　with　their　axesthey　cut　their　Runic　signs　into　a　few　of　these　stones；　which　then　cameinto　the　calendar　of　time。　But　as　for　me；　I　had　gone　quite　beyondall　lapse　of　time；　and　had　bee　a　cipher　and　a　nothing。　Then　threeor　four　beautiful　falling　stars　came　down；　which　cleared　the　air；and　gave　my　thoughts　another　direction。　You　know　what　a　falling　staris；　do　you　not？　The　learned　men　are　not　at　all　clear　about　it。　Ihave　my　own　ideas　about　shooting　stars；　as　the　mon　people　in　manyparts　call　them；　and　my　idea　is　this：　How　often　are　silentthanksgivings　offered　up　for　one　who　has　done　a　good　and　noble　action！The　thanks　are　often　speechless；　but　they　are　not　lost　for　all　that。　Ithink　these　thanks　are　caught　up；　and　the　sunbeams　bring　the　silent；hidden　thankfulness　over　the　head　of　the　benefactor；　and　if　it　be　awhole　people　that　has　been　expressing　its　gratitude　through　a　longlapse　of　time；　the　thankfulness　appears　as　a　nosegay　of　flowers；　andat　length　falls　in　the　form　of　a　shooting　star　over　the　good　man'sgrave。　I　am　always　very　much　pleased　when　I　see　a　shooting　star；especially　in　the　New　Year's　night；　and　then　find　out　for　whom　thegift　of　gratitude　was　intended。　Lately　a　gleaming　star　fell　in　thesouthwest；　as　a　tribute　of　thanksgiving　to　many…　many！　'For　whom　wasthat　star　intended？'　thought　I。　It　fell；　no　doubt；　on　the　hill　bythe　Bay　of　Plensberg；　where　the　Danebrog　waves　over　the　graves　ofSchleppegrell；　Lasloes；　and　their　rades。　One　star　also　fell　inthe　midst　of　the　land；　fell　upon　Soro；　a　flower　on　the　grave　ofHolberg；　the　thanks　of　the　year　from　a　great　many　…　thanks　for　hischarming　plays！

〃It　is　a　great　and　pleasant　thought　to　know　that　a　shooting　starfalls　upon　our　graves。　On　mine　certainly　none　will　fall…　no　sunbeambrings　thanks　to　me；　for　here　there　is　nothing　worthy　of　thanks。　Ishall　not　get　the　patent　lacquer；〃　said　Ole；　〃for　my　fate　on　earthis　only　grease；　after　all。〃

　　SECOND　VISIT

It　was　New　Year's　day；　and　I　went　up　on　the　tower。　Ole　spoke　ofthe　toasts　that　were　drunk　on　the　transition　from　the　Old　Year　intothe　New…　from　one　grave　into　the　other；　as　he　said。　And　he　told　me　astory　about　the　glasses；　and　this　story　had　a　very　deep　meaning。　Itwas　this：

〃When　on　the　New　Year's　night　the　clock　strikes　twelve；　the　peopleat　the　table　rise　up　with　full　glasses　in　their　hands；　and　drain　theseglasses；　and　drink　success　to　the　New　Year。　They　begin　the　year　withthe　glass　in　their　hands；　that　is　a　good　beginning　for　drunkards。　Theybegin　the　New　Year　by　going　to　bed；　and　that's　a　good　beginning　fordrones。　Sleep　is　sure　to　play　a　great　part　in　the　New　Year；　and　theglass　likewise。　Do　you　know　what　dwells　in　the　glass？〃　asked　Ole。　〃Iwill　tell　you。　There　dwell　in　the　glass；　first；　health；　and　thenpleasure；　then　the　most　plete　sensual　delight；　and　misfortune　andthe　bitterest　woe　dwell　in　the　glass　also。　Now；　suppose　we　count　theglasses…　of　course　I　count　the　different　degrees　in　the　glasses　fordifferent　people。

〃You　see；　the　first　glass；　that's　the　glass　of　health；　and　in　thatthe　herb　of　health　is　found　growing。　Put　it　up　on　the　beam　in　theceiling；　and　at　the　end　of　the　year　you　may　be　sitting　in　the　arbor　ofhealth。

〃If　you　take　the　second　glass…　from　this　a　little　bird　soarsupward；　twittering　in　guileless　cheerfulness；　so　that　a　man　may　listento　his　song；　and　perhaps　join　in　'Fair　is　life！　no　downcast　looks！Take　courage；　and　march　onward！'

〃Out　of　the　third　glass　rises　a　little　winged　urchin；　who　cannotcertainly　be　called　an　angel　child；　for　there　is　goblin　blood　in　hisveins；　and　he　has　the　spirit　of　a　goblin…　not　wishing　to　hurt　orharm　you；　indeed；　but　very　ready　to　play　off　tricks　upon　you。　He'llsit　at　your　ear　and　whisper　merry　thoughts　to　you；　he'll　creep　intoyour　heart　and　warm　you；　so　that　you　grow　very　merry；　and　bee　awit；　so　far　as　the　wits　of　the　others　can　judge。

〃In　the　fourth　glass　is　neither　herb；　bird；　nor　urchin。　In　thatglass　is　the　pause　drawn　by　reason；　and　one　may　never　go　beyond　thatsign。

〃Take　the　fifth　glass；　and　you　will　weep　at　yourself；　you　willfeel　such　a　deep　emotion；　or　it　will　affect　you　in　a　different　way。Out　of　the　glass　there　will　spring　with　a　bang　Prince　Carnival；　niimes　and　extravagantly　merry。　He'll　draw　you　away　with　him；　you'llforget　your　dignity；　if　you　have　any；　and　you'll　forget　more　thanyou　should　or　ought　to　forget。　All　is　dance；　song　and　sound：　the　maskswill　carry　you　away　with　them；　and　the　daughters　of　vanity；　clad　insilk　and　satin；　will　e　with　loose　hair　and　alluring　charms；　buttear　yourself　away　if　you　can！

〃The　sixth　glass！　Yes；　in　that　glass　sits　a　demon；　in　the　formof　a　little；　well　dressed；　attractive　and　very　fascinating　man；　whothoroughly　understands　you；　agrees　with　you　in　everything；　and　beesquite　a　second　self　to　you。　He　has　a　lantern　with　him；　to　give　youlight　as　he　acpanies　you　home。　There　is　an　old　legend　about　a　saintwho　was　allowed　to　choose　one　of　the　seven　deadly　sins；　and　whoaccordingly　chose　drunkenness；　which　appeared　to　him　the　least；　butwhich　led　him　to　mit　all　the　other　six。　The　man's　blood　ismingled　with　that　of　the　demon。　It　is　the　sixth　glass；　and　with　thatthe　germ　of　all　evil　shoots　up　within　us；　and　each　one　grows　up　with　astrength　like　that　of　the　grains　of　mustard…seed；　and　shoots　up　into　atree；　and　spreads　over　the　whole　world：　and　most　people　have　no　choicebut　to　go　into　the　oven；　to　be　re…cast　in　a　new　form。

〃That's　the　history　of　the　glasses；〃　said　the　tower…keeper　Ole；〃and　it　can　be　told　with　lacquer　or　only　with　grease；　but　I　give　ityou　with　both！〃

　　　THIRD　VISIT

On　this　occasion　I　chose　the　general　〃moving…day〃　for　my　visitto　Ole；　for　on　that　day　it　is　anything　but　agreeable　down　in　thestreets　in　the　town；　for　they　are　full　of　sweepings；　shreds；　andremnants　of　all　sorts；　to　say　nothing　of　the　cast…off　rubbish　in　whichone　has　to　wade　about。　But　this　time　I　happened　to　see　two　childrenplaying　in　this　wilderness　of　sweepings。　They　were　playing　at　〃goingto　bed；〃　for　the　occasion　seemed　especially　favorable　for　thissport。　They　crept　under　the　straw；　and　drew　an　old　bit　of　raggedcurtain　over　themselves　by　way　of　coverlet。　〃It　was　splendid！〃　theysaid；　but　it　was　a　little　too　strong　for　me；　and　besides；　I　wasobliged　to　mount　up　on　my　visit　to　Ole。

〃It's　moving…day　to　day；〃　he　said；　〃streets　and　houses　are　likea　dust…bin…　a　large　dust…bin；　but　I'm　content　with　a　cartload。　I　mayget　something　good　out　of　that；　and　I　really　did　get　something　goodout　of　it　once。　Shortly　after　Christmas　I　was　going　up　the　street；it　was　rough　weather；　wet　and　dirty…　the　right　kind　of　weather　tocatch　cold　in。　The　dustman　was　there　with　his　cart；　which　was　full；and　looked　like　a　sample　of　streets　on　moving…day。　At　the　back　ofthe　cart　stood　a　fir　tree；　quite　green　still；　and　with　tinsel　on　itstwigs；　it　had　been　used　on　Christmas　eve；　and　now　it　was　thrown　outinto　the　street；　and　the　dustman　had　stood　it　up　at　the　back　of　hiscart。　It　was　droll　to　look　at；　or　you　may　say　it　was　mournful…　alldepends　on　what　you　think　of　when　you　see　it；　and　I　thought　aboutit；　and　thought　this　and　that　of　many　things　that　were　in　the　cart：　orI　might　have　done　so；　and　that　es　to　the　same　thing。　There　was　anold　lady's　glove；　too：　I　wonder　what　that　was　thinking　of？　Shall　Itell　you？　The　glove　was　lying　there；　pointing　with　its　little　fingerat　the　tree。　'I'm　sorry　for　the　tree；'　it　thought；　'and　I　was　alsoat　the　feast；　where　the　chandeliers　glittered。　My　life　was；　so　tospeak；　a　ball　night…　a　pressure　of　the　hand；　and　I　burst！　My　memorykeeps　dwelling　upon　that；　and　I　have　really　nothing　else　to　live　for！'This　is　what　the　glove　thought；　or　what　it　might　have　thought。　'That'sa　stupid　affair　with　yonder　fir　tree；'　said　the　potsherds。　You　see；potsherds　think　everything　is　stupid。　'When　one　is　in　thedust…cart；'　they　said；　'one　ought　not　to　give　one's　self　airs　and　weartinsel。　I　know　that　I　have　been　useful　in　the　world…　far　more　usefulthan　such　a　green　stick。'　This　was　a　view　that　might　be　taken；　and　Idon't　think　it　quite　a　peculiar　one；　but　for　all　that；　the　fir　treelooked　very　well：　it　was　like　a　little　poetry　in　the　dust…heap；　andtruly　there　is　dust　enough　in　the　streets　on　moving…day。　The　way　isdifficult　and　troublesome　then；　and　I　feel　obliged　to　run　away　outof　the　confusion；　or；　if　I　am　on　the　tower；　I　stay　there　and　lookdown；　and　it　is　amusing　enough。

〃There　are　the　good　people　below；　playing　at　'changing　houses。'They　toil　and　tug　away　with　their　goods　and　chattels；　and　thehousehold　goblin　sits　in　an　old　tub　and　moves　with　them。　All　thelittle　griefs　of　the　lodging　and　the　family；　and　the　real　cares　andsorrows；　move　with　them　out　of　the　old　dwelling　into　the　new；　and　whatgain　is　there　for　them　or　for　us　in　the　whole　affair？　Yes；　there　waswritten　long　ago　the　good　old　maxim：　'Think　on　the　great　moving…day　ofdeath！'　That　is　a　serious　thought。　I　hope　it　is　not　disagreeable　toyou　that　I　should　have　touched　upon　it？　Death　is　the　most　certainmessenger；　after　all；　in　spite　of　his　various　occupations。　Yes；Death　is　the　omnibus　conductor；　and　he　is　the　passport　writer；　andhe　countersigns　our　service…book；　and　he　is　director　of　the　savingsbank　of　life。　Do　you　understand　me？　All　the　deeds　of　our　life；　thegreat　and　the　little　alike；　we　put　into　this　savings　bank；　and　whenDeath　calls　with　his　omnibus；　and　we　have　to　step　in；　and　drive　withhim　into　the　land　of　eternity；　then　on　the　frontier　he　gives　us　ourservice…book　as　a　pass。　As　a　provision　for　the　journey；　he　takesthis　or　that　good　deed　we　have　done；　and　lets　it　acpany　us；　andthis　may　be　very　pleasant　or　very　terrific。　Nobody　has　ever　escapedthe　omnibus　journey。　There　is　certainly　a　talk　about　one　who　was　notallowed　to　go…　they　call　him　the　Wandering　Jew：　he　has　to　ridebehind　the　omnibus。　If　he　had　been　allowed　to　get　in；　he　would　haveescaped　the　clutches　of　the　poets。

〃Just　cast　your　mind's　eye　into　that　great　omnibus。　The　society　ismixed；　for　king　and　beggar；　genius　and　idiot；　sit　side　by　side。　Theymust　go　without　their　property　and　money；　they　have　only　theservice…book　and　the　gift　out　of　the　savings　bank　with　them。　But　whichof　our　deeds　is　selected　and　given　to　us？　Perhaps　quite　a　littleone；　one　that　we　have　forgotten；　but　which　has　been　recorded…　small　asa　pea；　but　the　pea　can　send　out　a　blooming　shoot。　The　poor　bumpkin　whosat　on　a　low　stool　in　the　corner；　and　was　jee