tanglewood tales-第1部分

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Tanglewood　Tales

by　Nathaniel　Hawthorne





THE　WAYSIDE。　INTRODUCTORY。

A　short　time　ago；　I　was　favored　with　a　flying　visit　from　my　young　friend　Eustace　Bright；　whom　I　had　not　before　met　with　since　quitting　the　breezy　mountains　of　Berkshire。　It　being　the　winter　vacation　at　his　college；　Eustace　was　allowing　himself　a　little　relaxation；　in　the　hope；　he　told　me；　of　repairing　the　inroads　which　severe　application　to　study　had　made　upon　his　health；　and　I　was　happy　to　conclude；　from　the　excellent　physical　condition　in　which　I　saw　him；　that　the　remedy　had　already　been　attended　with　very　desirable　success。　He　had　now　run　up　from　Boston　by　the　noon　train；　partly　impelled　by　the　friendly　regard　with　which　he　is　pleased　to　honor　me；　and　partly；　as　I　soon　found；　on　a　matter　of　literary　business。

It　delighted　me　to　receive　Mr。　Bright；　for　the　first　time；　under　a　roof；　though　a　very　humble　one；　which　I　could　really　call　my　own。　Nor　did　I　fail　（as　is　the　custom　of　landed　proprietors　all　about　the　world）　to　parade　the　poor　fellow　up　and　down　over　my　half　a　dozen　acres；　secretly　rejoicing；　nevertheless；　that　the　disarray　of　the　inclement　season；　and　particularly　the　six　inches　of　snow　then　upon　the　ground；　prevented　him　from　observing　the　ragged　neglect　of　soil　and　shrubbery　into　which　the　place　had　lapsed。　It　was　idle；　however；　to　imagine　that　an　airy　guest　from　Monument　Mountain；　Bald　Summit；　and　old　Graylock；　shaggy　with　primeval　forests；　could　see　anything　to　admire　in　my　poor　little　hillside；　with　its　growth　of　frail　and　insect…eaten　locust　trees。　Eustace　very　frankly　called　the　view　from　my　hill　top　tame；　and　so；　no　doubt；　it　was；　after　rough；　broken；　rugged；　headlong　Berkshire；　and　especially　the　northern　parts　of　the　county；　with　which　his　college　residence　had　made　him　familiar。　But　to　me　there　is　a　peculiar；　quiet　charm　in　these　broad　meadows　and　gentle　eminences。　They　are　better　than　mountains；　because　they　do　not　stamp　and　stereotype　themselves　into　the　brain；　and　thus　grow　wearisome　with　the　same　strong　impression；　repeated　day　after　day。　A　few　summer　weeks　among　mountains；　a　lifetime　among　green　meadows　and　placid　slopes；　with　outlines　forever　new；　because　continually　fading　out　of　the　memorysuch　would　be　my　sober　choice。

I　doubt　whether　Eustace　did　not　internally　pronounce　the　whole　thing　a　bore；　until　I　led　him　to　my　predecessor's　little　ruined；　rustic　summer　house；　midway　on　the　hillside。　It　is　a　mere　skeleton　of　slender；　decaying　tree　trunks；　with　neither　walls　nor　a　roof；　nothing　but　a　tracery　of　branches　and　twigs；　which　the　next　wintry　blast　will　be　very　likely　to　scatter　in　fragments　along　the　terrace。　It　looks；　and　is；　as　evanescent　as　a　dream；　and　yet；　in　its　rustic　network　of　boughs；　it　has　somehow　enclosed　a　hint　of　spiritual　beauty；　and　has　become　a　true　emblem　of　the　subtile　and　ethereal　mind　that　planned　it。　I　made　Eustace　Bright　sit　down　on　a　snow　bank；　which　had　heaped　itself　over　the　mossy　seat；　and　gazing　through　the　arched　windows　opposite；　he　acknowledged　that　the　scene　at　once　grew　picturesque。

〃Simple　as　it　looks；〃　said　he；　〃this　little　edifice　seems　to　be　the　work　of　magic。　It　is　full　of　suggestiveness；　and；　in　its　way；　is　as　good　as　a　cathedral。　Ah；　it　would　be　just　the　spot　for　one　to　sit　in；　of　a　summer　afternoon；　and　tell　the　children　some　more　of　those　wild　stories　from　the　classic　myths！〃

〃It　would；　indeed；〃　answered　I。　〃The　summer　house　itself；　so　airy　and　so　broken；　is　like　one　of　those　old　tales；　imperfectly　remembered；　and　these　living　branches　of　the　Baldwin　apple　tree；　thrusting　so　rudely　in；　are　like　your　unwarrantable　interpolations。　But；　by　the　by；　have　you　added　any　more　legends　to　the　series；　since　the　publication　of　the　'Wonder…Book'？〃

〃Many　more；〃　said　Eustace；　〃Primrose；　Periwinkle；　and　the　rest　of　them；　allow　me　no　comfort　of　my　life　unless　I　tell　them　a　story　every　day　or　two。　I　have　run　away　from　home　partly　to　escape　the　importunity　of　these　little　wretches！　But　I　have　written　out　six　of　the　new　stories；　and　have　brought　them　for　you　to　look　over。〃

〃Are　they　as　good　as　the　first？〃　I　inquired。

〃Better　chosen；　and　better　handled；〃　replied　Eustace　Bright。　〃You　will　say　so　when　you　read　them。〃

〃Possibly　not；〃　I　remarked。　〃I　know　from　my　own　experience；　that　an　author's　last　work　is　always　his　best　one；　in　his　own　estimate；　until　it　quite　loses　the　red　heat　of　composition。　After　that；　it　falls　into　its　true　place；　quietly　enough。　But　let　us　adjourn　to　my　study；　and　examine　these　new　stories。　It　would　hardly　be　doing　yourself　justice；　were　you　to　bring　me　acquainted　with　them；　sitting　here　on　this　snow　bank！〃

So　we　descended　the　hill　to　my　small；　old　cottage；　and　shut　ourselves　up　in　the　south…eastern　room；　where　the　sunshine　comes　in；　warmly　and　brightly；　through　the　better　half　of　a　winter's　day。　Eustace　put　his　bundle　of　manuscript　into　my　hands；　and　I　skimmed　through　it　pretty　rapidly；　trying　to　find　out　its　merits　and　demerits　by　the　touch　of　my　fingers；　as　a　veteran　story…teller　ought　to　know　how　to　do。

It　will　be　remembered　that　Mr。　Bright　condescended　to　avail　himself　of　my　literary　experience　by　constituting　me　editor　of　the　〃Wonder…Book。〃　As　he　had　no　reason　to　complain　of　the　reception　of　that　erudite　work　by　the　public；　he　was　now　disposed　to　retain　me　in　a　similar　position　with　respect　to　the　present　volume；　which　he　entitled　TANGLEWOOD　TALES。　Not；　as　Eustace　hinted；　that　there　was　any　real　necessity　for　my　services　as　introducer；　inasmuch　as　his　own　name　had　become　established　in　some　good　degree　of　favor　with　the　literary　world。　But　the　connection　with　myself；　he　was　kind　enough　to　say；　had　been　highly　agreeable；　nor　was　he　by　any　means　desirous；　as　most　people　are；　of　kicking　away　the　ladder　that　had　perhaps　helped　him　to　reach　his　present　elevation。　My　young　friend　was　willing；　in　short；　that　the　fresh　verdure　of　his　growing　reputation　should　spread　over　my　straggling　and　half…naked　boughs；　even　as　I　have　sometimes　thought　of　training　a　vine；　with　its　broad　leafiness；　and　purple　fruitage；　over　the　worm…eaten　posts　and　rafters　of　the　rustic　summer　house。　I　was　not　insensible　to　the　advantages　of　his　proposal；　and　gladly　assured　him　of　my　acceptance。

Merely　from　the　title　of　the　stories　I　saw　at　once　that　the　subjects　were　not　less　rich　than　those　of　the　former　volume；　nor　did　I　at　all　doubt　that　Mr。　Bright's　audacity　（so　far　as　that　endowment　might　avail）　had　enabled　him　to　take　full　advantage　of　whatever　capabilities　they　offered。　Yet；　in　spite　of　my　experience　of　his　free　way　of　handling　them；　I　did　not　quite　see；　I　confess；　how　he　could　have　obviated　all　the　difficulties　in　the　way　of　rendering　them　presentable　to　children。　These　old　legends；　so　brimming　over　with　everything　that　is　most　abhorrent　to　our　Christianized　moral　sense　some　of　them　so　hideous；　others　so　melancholy　and　miserable；　amid　which　the　Greek　tragedians　sought　their　themes；　and　moulded　them　into　the　sternest　forms　of　grief　that　ever　the　world　saw；　was　such　material　the　stuff　that　children's　playthings　should　be　made　of！　How　were　they　to　be　purified？　How　was　the　blessed　sunshine　to　be　thrown　into　them？

But　Eustace　told　me　that　these　myths　were　the　most　singu