twice-told tales- the great stone face-第4部分

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ponderous　granite　substance　into　spirit；　might　here　be　sought　in　vain。

Something　had　been　originally　left　out；　or　had　departed。　And　therefore

the　marvellously　gifted　statesman　had　always　a　weary　gloom　in　the　deep

caverns　of　his　eyes；　as　of　a　child　that　has　outgrown　its　playthings；

or　a　man　of　mighty　faculties　and　little　aims；　whose　life；　with　all　its

high　performances；　was　vague　and　empty；　because　no　high　purpose　had

endowed　it　with　reality。

　　　Still；　Ernest's　neighbor　was　thrusting　his　elbow　into　his　side；　and

pressing　him　for　an　answer。

　　　〃Confess！　confess！　Is　not　he　the　very　picture　of　your　Old　Man　of

the　Mountain？〃

　　　〃No！〃　said　Ernest；　bluntly；　〃I　see　little　or　no　likeness。〃

　　　〃Then　so　much　the　worse　for　the　Great　Stone　Face！〃　answered　his

neighbor；　and　again　he　set　up　a　shout　for　Old　Stony　Phiz。

　　　But　Ernest　turned　away。　melancholy；　and　almost　despondent；　for　this

was　the　saddest　of　his　disappointments；　to　behold　a　man　who　might　have

fulfilled　the　prophecy；　and　had　not　willed　to　do　so。　Meantime；　the

cavalcade；　the　banners；　the　music；　and　the　barouches；　swept　past

him；　with　the　vociferous　crowd　in　the　rear；　leaving　the　dust　to　settle

down；　and　the　Great　Stone　Face　to　be　revealed　again；　with　the　grandeur

that　it　had　worn　for　untold　centuries。

　　　〃Lo；　here　I　am；　Ernest！〃　the　benign　lips　seemed　to　say。　〃I　have

waited　longer　than　thou；　and　am　not　yet　weary。　Fear　not；　the　man

will　come。〃

　　　The　years　hurried　onward；　treading　in　their　haste　on　one

another's　heels。　And　now　they　began　to　bring　white　hairs；　and

scatter　them　over　the　head　of　Ernest；　they　made　reverend　wrinkles

across　his　forehead；　and　furrows　in　his　cheeks。　He　was　an　aged　man。

But　not　in　vain　had　he　grown　old：　more　than　the　white　hairs　on　his

head　were　the　sage　thoughts　in　his　mind；　his　wrinkles　and　furrows　were

inscriptions　that　Time　had　graved；　and　in　which　he　had　written　legends

of　wisdom　that　had　been　tested　by　the　tenor　of　a　life。　And　Ernest

had　ceased　to　be　obscure。　Unsought　for；　undesired；　had　come　the　fame

which　so　many　seek；　and　made　him　known　in　the　great　world；　beyond

the　limits　of　the　valley　in　which　he　had　dwelt　so　quietly。　College

professors；　and　even　the　active　men　of　cities；　came　from　far　to　see

and　converse　with　Ernest；　for　the　report　had　gone　abroad　that　this

simple　husbandman　had　ideas　unlike　those　of　other　men；　not　gained　from

books；　but　of　a　higher　tone…　a　tranquil　and　familiar　majesty；　as　if　he

had　been　talking　with　the　angels　as　his　daily　friends。　Whether　it　were

sage；　statesman；　or　philanthropist；　Ernest　received　these　visitors

with　the　gentle　sincerity　that　had　characterized　him　from　boyhood；　and

spoke　freely　with　them　of　whatever　came　uppermost；　or　lay　deepest　in

his　heart　or　their　own。　While　they　talked　together；　his　face　would

kindle；　unawares；　and　shine　upon　them；　as　with　a　mild　evening　light。

Pensive　with　the　fulness　of　such　discourse；　his　guests　took　leave

and　went　their　way；　and；　passing　up　the　valley；　paused　to　look　at

the　Great　Stone　Face；　imagining　that　they　had　seen　its　likeness　in　a

human　countenance；　but　could　not　remember　where。

　　　While　Ernest　had　been　growing　up　and　growing　old；　a　bountiful

Providence　had　granted　a　new　poet　to　this　earth。　He；　likewise；　was　a

native　of　the　valley　but　had　spent　the　greater　part　of　his　life　at　a

distance　from　that　romantic　region；　pouring　out　his　sweet　music　amid

the　bustle　and　din　of　cities。　Often；　however；　did　the　mountains

which　had　been　familiar　to　him　in　his　childhood　lift　their　snowy　peaks

into　the　clear　atmosphere　of　his　poetry。　Neither　was　the　Great　Stone

Face　forgotten；　for　the　poet　had　celebrated　it　in　an　ode；　which　was

grand　enough　to　have　been　uttered　by　its　own　majestic　lips。　This　man

of　genius；　we　may　say；　had　come　down　from　heaven　with　wonderful

endowments。　If　he　sang　of　a　mountain；　the　eyes　of　all　mankind　beheld　a

mightier　grandeur　reposing　on　its　breast；　or　soaring　to　its　summit；

than　had　before　been　seen　there。　If　his　theme　were　a　lovely　lake；　a

celestial　smile　had　now　been　thrown　over　it；　to　gleam　forever　on　its

surface。　If　it　were　the　vast　old　sea；　even　the　deep　immensity　of　its

dread　bosom　seemed　to　swell　the　higher；　as　if　moved　by　the　emotions　of

the　song。　Thus　the　world　assumed　another　and　a　better　aspect　from

the　hour　that　the　poet　blessed　it　with　his　happy　eyes。　The　Creator　had

bestowed　him；　as　the　last；　best　touch　to　his　own　handiwork。　Creation

was　not　finished　till　the　poet　came　to　interpret；　and　so　complete　it。

　　　The　effect　was　no　less　high　and　beautiful；　when　his　human

brethren　were　the　subject　of　his　verse。　The　man　or　woman；　sordid

with　the　common　dust　of　life；　who　crossed　his　daily　path；　and　the

little　child　who　played　in　it；　were　glorified　if　he　beheld　them　in　his

mood　of　poetic　faith。　He　showed　the　golden　links　of　the　great　chain

that　intertwined　them　with　an　angelic　kindred；　he　brought　out　the

hidden　traits　of　a　celestial　birth　that　made　them　worthy　of　such

kin。　Some；　indeed；　there　were；　who　thought　to　show　the　soundness　of

their　judgment　by　affirming　that　all　the　beauty　and　dignity　of　the

natural　world　existed　only　in　the　poet's　fancy。　Let　such　men　speak　for

themselves；　who　undoubtedly　appear　to　have　been　spawned　forth　by

Nature　with　a　contemptuous　bitterness；　she　having　plastered　them　up

out　of　her　refuse　stuff；　after　all　the　swine　were　made。　As　respects

all　things　else；　the　poet's　ideal　was　the　truest　truth。

　　　The　songs　of　this　poet　found　their　way　to　Ernest。　He　read　them；

after　his　customary　toil；　seated　on　the　bench　before　his　cottage　door；

where；　for　such　a　length　of　time；　he　had　filled　his　repose　with

thought　by　gazing　at　the　Great　Stone　Face。　And　now；　as　he　read　stanzas

that　caused　the　soul　to　thrill　within　him；　he　lifted　his　eyes　to　the

vast　countenance　beaming　on　him　so　benignantly。

　　　〃O；　majestic　friend；〃　he　murmured；　addressing　the　Great　Stone　Face；

〃is　not　this　man　worthy　to　resemble　thee？〃

　　　The　Face　seemed　to　smile；　but　answered　not　a　word。

　　　Now　it　happened　that　the　poet；　though　he　dwelt　so　far　away；　had　not

only　heard　of　Ernest；　but　had　meditated　much　upon　his　character；　until

he　deemed　nothing　so　desirable　as　to　meet　this　man；　whose　untaught

wisdom　walked　hand　in　hand　with　the　noble　simplicity　of　his　life。

One　summer　morning；　therefore；　he　took　passage　by　the　railroad；　and；

in　the　decline　of　the　afternoon；　alighted　from　the　cars　at　no　great

distance　from　Ernest's　cottage。　The　great　hotel；　which　had　formerly

been　the　palace　of　Mr。　Gathergold；　was　close　at　hand；　but　the　poet

with　his　carpet…bag　on　his　arm；　inquired　at　once　where　Ernest　dwelt；

and　was　resolved　to　be　accepted　as　his　guest。

　　　Approaching　the　door；　he　there　found　the　good　old　man；　holding　a

volume　in　his　hand；　which　alternately　he　read；　and　then；　with　a　finger

between　the　leaves；　looked　lovingly　at　the　Great　Stone　Face。

　　　〃Good　evening；〃　said　the　poet。　〃Can　you　give　a　traveller　a

night's　lodging？〃'

　　　〃Willingly；〃　answered　Ernest；　and　then　he　added；　smiling；　〃Methinks

I　never　saw　the　Great　Stone　Face　look　so　hospitably　at　a　stranger。〃

　　　The　poet　sat　down　on　the　bench　beside　him；　and　he　and　Ernest　talked

together。　Often　had　the　poet　held　intercourse　with　the　wittiest　and

the　wisest；　but　never　before　with　a　man　like　Ernest；　whose　thoughts

and　feelings　gushed　up　with　such　a　natural　freedom；　and　who　made　great

truths　so　familiar　by　his　simple　utterance　of　them。　Angels；　as　had

been　so　often　said；　seemed　to　have　wrought　with　him　at　his　labor　in

the　fields；　angels　seemed　to　have　sat　with　him　by　the　fireside；　and；

dwelling　with　angels　as　friend　with　friends；　he　had　imbibed　the

sublimity　of　their　ideas；　and　imbued　it　with　the　sweet　and　lowly　charm

of　household　words。　So　thought　the　poet。　And　Ernest；　on　the　other

hand；　was　moved　and　agitated　by　the　living　images　which　the　poet　flung

out　of　his　mind；　and　which　peopled　all　the　air　about　the

cottage…door　with　shapes　of　beauty；　both　gay　and　pensive。　The

sympathies　of　these　two　men　instructed　them　with　a　profounder　sense

than　either　could　have　attained　alone。　Their　minds　accorded　into　one

strain；　and　made　delightful　music　which　neither　of　them　could　have

claimed　as　all　his　own；　nor　distinguished　his　own　share　from　the

other's。　They　led　one　another；　as　it　were；　into　a　high　pavilion　of

their　thoughts；　so　remote；　and　hitherto　so　dim；　that　they　had　never

entered　it　before；　and　so　beautiful　that　they　desired　to　be　there

always。

　　　As　Ernest　listened　to　the　poet；　he　imagined　that　the　Great　Stone

Face　was　bending　forward　to　listen　too。　He　gazed　earnestly　into　the

poet's　glowing　eyes。

　　　〃Who　are　you；　my　strangely　gifted　guest？〃　he　said。

　　　The　poet　laid　his　finger　on　the　volume　that　Ernest　had　been

reading。

　　　〃You　have　read　these　poems；〃　said　he。　〃You　know　me；　then…　for　I

wrote　them。〃

　　　Again；　and　still　more　earnestly　than　before；　Ernest　examined　the

poet's　features；　then　turned　towards　the　Great　Stone　Face；　then

back；　with　an　uncertain　aspect；　to　his　guest。　But　his　countenance

fell；　he　shook　his　head；　and　sighed。

　　　〃Wherefore　are　you　sad？〃　inquired　the　poet。

　　　〃Because；　replied　Ernest；　〃all　through　life　I　have　awaited　the

fulfilment　of　a　prophecy；　and；　when　I　read　these　poems；　I　hoped　that

it　might　be　fulfilled　in　you。〃

　　　〃You　hoped；〃　answered　the　poet；　faintly　smiling；　〃to　find　in　me　the

likeness　of　the　Great　Stone　Face。　And　you　are　disappointed；　as

formerly　with　Mr。　Gathergold；　and　Old　Blood…and…Thunder；　and　Old　Stony

Phiz。　Yes；　Ernest；　it　is　my　doom。　You　must　add　my　name　to　the

illustrious　three；　and　record　another　failure　of　your　hopes。　For…　in

shame　and　sadness　do　I　speak　it；　Ernest…　I　am　not　worthy　to　be

typified　by　yonder　benign　and　majestic　image。〃

　　　〃And　why？〃　asked　Ernest。　He　pointed　to　the　volume…　〃Are　not　those

thoughts　divine？〃

　　　〃They　have　a　strain　of　the　Divinity；〃　replied　the　poet。　〃You　can

hear　in　them　the　far…off　echo　of　a　heavenly　song。　But　my　life；　dear

Ernest；　has　not　corresponded　with　my　thought。　I　have　had　grand　dreams；

but　they　have　been　only　dreams；　because　I　have　lived…　and　that；　too；

by　own　choice…　among　poor　and