a24-第8章

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〃I　especially　noticed　one　building　there。　It　was　not　the　house　in
which　Goethe　was　born；　nor　the　old　Council　House；　through　whose　grated　windows　peered　the　horns　of　the　oxen　that　were　roasted　and　given　to　the　people　when　the　emperors　were　crowned。　No；　it　was　a　private　house；　plain　in　appearance；　and　painted　green。　It　stood　near　the　old　Jews'　Street。　It　was　Rothschild's　house。

〃I　looked　through　the　open　door。　The　staircase　was　brilliantly
lighted：　servants　carrying　wax　candles　in　massive　silver
candlesticks　stood　there；　and　bowed　low　before　an　old　woman；　who　was　being　brought　downstairs　in　a　litter。　The　proprietor　of　the　house
stood　bare…headed；　and　respectfully　imprinted　a　kiss　on　the　hand　of
the　old　woman。　She　was　his　mother。　She　nodded　in　a　friendly　manner
to　him　and　to　the　servants；　and　they　carried　her　into　the　dark
narrow　street；　into　a　little　house；　that　was　her　dwelling。　Here　her
children　had　been　born；　from　hence　the　fortune　of　the　family　had
arisen。　If　she　deserted　the　despised　street　and　the　little　house；
fortune　would　also　desert　her　children。　That　was　her　firm　belief。〃

The　Moon　told　me　no　more；　his　visit　this　evening　was　far　too
short。　But　I　thought　of　the　old　woman　in　the　narrow　despised　street。
It　would　have　cost　her　but　a　word；　and　a　brilliant　house　would　have
arisen　for　her　on　the　banks　of　the　Thames…　a　word；　and　a　villa　would
have　been　prepared　in　the　Bay　of　Naples。

〃If　I　deserted　the　lowly　house；　where　the　fortunes　of　my　sons
first　began　to　bloom；　fortune　would　desert　them！〃　It　was　a
superstition；　but　a　superstition　of　such　a　class；　that　he　who　knows
the　story　and　has　seen　this　picture；　need　have　only　two　words　placed
under　the　picture　to　make　him　understand　it；　and　these　two　words
are：　〃A　mother。〃

TWENTY…FIFTH　EVENING
〃It　was　yesterday；　in　the　morning　twilight〃…　these　are　the　words
the　Moon　told　me…　〃in　the　great　city　no　chimney　was　yet　smoking…　and　it　was　just　at　the　chimneys　that　I　was　looking。　Suddenly　a　little　head　emerged　from　one　of　them；　and　then　half　a　body；　the　arms　resting　on　the　rim　of　the　chimney…pot。　'Ya…hip！　ya…hip！'　cried　a　voice。　It　was　the　little　chimney…sweeper；　who　had　for　the　first　time　in　his　life
crept　through　a　chimney；　and　stuck　out　his　head　at　the　top。　'Ya…hip！
ya…hip'　Yes；　certainly　that　was　a　very　different　thing　to　creeping
about　in　the　dark　narrow　chimneys！　the　air　blew　so　fresh；　and　he　could　look　over　the　whole　city　towards　the　green　wood。　The　sun　was　just　rising。　It　shone　round　and　great；　just　in　his　face；　that　beamed　with
triumph；　though　it　was　very　prettily　blacked　with　soot。

〃'The　whole　town　can　see　me　now；'　he　exclaimed；　'and　the　moon
can　see　me　now；　and　the　sun　too。　Ya…hip！　ya…hip！'　And　he　flourished
his　broom　in　triumph。〃

TWENTY…SIXTH　EVENING
〃Last　night　I　looked　down　upon　a　town　in　China；〃　said　the　Moon。
〃My　beams　irradiated　the　naked　walls　that　form　the　streets　there。
Now　and　then；　certainly；　a　door　is　seen；　but　it　is　locked；　for　what
does　the　Chinaman　care　about　the　outer　world？　Close　wooden　shutters　covered　the　windows　behind　the　walls　of　the　houses；　but　through　the　windows　of　the　temple　a　faint　light　glimmered。　I　looked　in；　and　saw　the　quaint　decorations　within。　From　the　floor　to　the　ceiling
pictures　are　painted；　in　the　most　glaring　colours；　and　richly　gilt…
pictures　representing　the　deeds　of　the　gods　here　on　earth。　In　each
niche　statues　are　placed；　but　they　are　almost　entirely　hidden　by　the
coloured　drapery　and　the　banners　that　hang　down。　Before　each　idol　（and　they　are　all　made　of　tin）　stood　a　little　altar　of　holy　water；　with
flowers　and　burning　wax　lights　on　it。　Above　all　the　rest　stood　Fo；　the
chief　deity；　clad　in　a　garment　of　yellow　silk；　for　yellow　is　here
the　sacred　colour。　At　the　foot　of　the　altar　sat　a　living　being；　a
young　priest。　He　appeared　to　be　praying；　but　in　the　midst　of　his
prayer　he　seemed　to　fall　into　deep　thought；　and　this　must　have　been
wrong；　for　his　cheeks　glowed　and　he　held　down　his　head。　Poor
Soui…Hong！　Was　he；　perhaps；　dreaming　of　working　in　the　little　flower
garden　behind　the　high　street　wall？　And　did　that　occupation　seem
more　agreeable　to　him　than　watching　the　wax　lights　in　the　temple？　Or
did　he　wish　to　sit　at　the　rich　feast；　wiping　his　mouth　with　silver
paper　between　each　course？　Or　was　his　sin　so　great　that；　if　he　dared
utter　it；　the　Celestial　Empire　would　punish　it　with　death？　Had　his
thoughts　ventured　to　fly　with　the　ships　of　the　barbarians；　to　their
homes　in　far　distant　England？　No；　his　thoughts　did　not　fly　so　far；　and
yet　they　were　sinful；　sinful　as　thoughts　born　of　young　hearts；
sinful　here　in　the　temple；　in　the　presence　of　Fo　and　the　other　holy
gods。

〃I　know　whither　his　thoughts　had　strayed。　At　the　farther　end　of
the　city；　on　the　flat　roof　paved　with　porcelain；　on　which　stood　the
handsome　vases　covered　with　painted　flowers；　sat　the　beauteous　Pu；
of　the　little　roguish　eyes；　of　the　full　lips；　and　of　the　tiny　feet。

The　tight　shoe　pained　her；　but　her　heart　pained　her　still　more。　She
lifted　her　graceful　round　arm；　and　her　satin　dress　rustled。　Before　her
stood　a　glass　bowl　containing　four　gold…fish。　She　stirred　the　bowl
carefully　with　a　slender　lacquered　stick；　very　slowly；　for　she；　too；
was　lost　in　thought。　Was　she　thinking；　perchance；　how　the　fishes
were　richly　clothed　in　gold；　how　they　lived　calmly　and　peacefully　in
their　crystal　world；　how　they　were　regularly　fed；　and　yet　how　much
happier　they　might　be　if　they　were　free？　Yes；　that　she　could　well
understand；　the　beautiful　Pu。　Her　thoughts　wandered　away　from　her
home；　wandered　to　the　temple；　but　not　for　the　sake　of　holy　things。
Poor　Pu！　Poor　Soui…hong！

〃Their　earthly　thoughts　met；　but　my　cold　beam　lay　between　the　two；
like　the　sword　of　the　cherub。〃

TWENTY…SEVENTH　EVENING
〃The　air　was　calm；〃　said　the　Moon；　〃the　water　was　transparent　as
the　purest　ether　through　which　I　was　gliding；　and　deep　below　the
surface　I　could　see　the　strange　plants　that　stretched　up　their　long
arms　towards　me　like　the　gigantic　trees　of　the　forest。　The　fishes　swam
to　and　fro　above　their　tops。　High　in　the　air　a　flight　of　wild　swans
were　winging　their　way；　one　of　which　sank　lower　and　lower；　with
wearied　pinions；　his　eyes　following　the　airy　caravan；　that　melted
farther　and　farther　into　the　distance。　With　outspread　wings　he　sank
slowly；　as　a　soap　bubble　sinks　in　the　still　air；　till　he　touched　the
water。　At　length　his　head　lay　back　between　his　wings；　and　silently
he　lay　there；　like　a　white　lotus　flower　upon　the　quiet　lake。　And　a
gentle　wind　arose；　and　crisped　the　quiet　surface；　which　gleamed　like
the　clouds　that　poured　along　in　great　broad　waves；　and　the　swan　raised　his　head；　and　the　glowing　water　splashed　like　blue　fire　over　his
breast　and　back。　The　morning　dawn　illuminated　the　red　clouds；　the　swan　rose　strengthened；　and　flew　towards　the　rising　sun；　towards　the　bluish　coast　whither　the　caravan　had　gone；　but　he　flew　alone；　with　a
longing　in　his　breast。　Lonely　he　flew　over　the　blue　swelling　billows。〃

TWENTY…EIGHTH　EVENING
〃I　will　give　you　another　picture　of　Sweden；〃　said　the　Moon。　〃Among
dark　pine　woods；　near　the　melancholy　banks　of　the　Stoxen；　lies　the　old　convent　church　of　Wreta。　My　rays　glided　through　the　grating　into　the　roomy　vaults；　where　kings　sleep　tranquilly　in　great　stone　coffins。
On　the　wall；　above　the　grave　of　each；　is　placed　the　emblem　of
earthly　grandeur；　a　kingly　crown；　but　it　is　made　only　of　wood；　painted
and　gilt；　and　is　hung　on　a　wooden　peg　driven　into　the　wall。　The
worms　have　gnawed　the　gilded　wood；　the　spider　has　spun　her　web　from　the　crown　down　to　the　sand；　like　a　mourning　banner；　frail　and
transient　as　the　grief　of　mortals。　How　quietly　they　sleep！　I　can
remember　them　quite　plainly。　I　still　see　the　bold　smile　on　their　lips；
that　so　strongly　and　plainly　expressed　joy　or　grief。　When　the
steamboat　winds　along　like　a　magic　snail　over　the　lakes；　a　stranger
often　comes　to　the　church；　and　visits　the　burial　vault；　he　asks　the
names　of　the　kings；　and　they　have　a　dead　and　forgotten　sound。　He
glances　with　a　smile　at　the　worm…eaten　crowns；　and　if　he　happens　to　be　a　pious；　thoughtful　man；　something　of　melancholy　mingles　with　the
smile。　Slumber　on；　ye　dead　ones！　The　Moon　thinks　of　you；　the　Moon　at