twice-told tales- the artist of the beautiful-第1部分

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　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　TWICE…TOLD　TALES

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　THE　ARTIST　OF　THE　BEAUTIFUL

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　by　Nathaniel　Hawthorne



　　　AN　ELDERLY　MAN；　with　his　pretty　daughter　on　his　arm；　was　passing

along　the　street；　and　emerged　from　the　gloom　of　the　cloudy　evening

into　the　light　that　fell　across　the　pavement　from　the　window　of　a

small　shop。　It　was　a　projecting　window；　and　on　the　inside　were

suspended　a　variety　of　watches…　pinchbeck；　silver；　and　one　or　two　of

gold…　all　with　their　faces　turned　from　the　street；　as　if　churlishly

disinclined　to　inform　the　wayfarers　what　o'clock　it　was。　Seated　within

the　shop；　sidelong　to　the　window；　with　his　pale　face　bent　earnestly

over　some　delicate　piece　of　mechanism；　on　which　was　thrown　the

concentrated　lustre　of　a　shade…lamp；　appeared　a　young　man。

　　　〃What　can　Owen　Warland　be　about？〃　muttered　old　Peter　Hovenden…

himself　a　retired　watchmaker；　and　the　former　master　of　this　same　young

man；　whose　occupation　he　was　now　wondering　at。　〃What　can　the　fellow　be

about？　These　six　months　past；　I　have　never　come　by　his　shop　without

seeing　him　just　as　steadily　at　work　as　now。　It　would　be　a　flight

beyond　his　usual　foolery　to　seek　for　the　Perpetual　Motion。　And　yet　I

know　enough　of　my　old　business　to　be　certain；　that　what　he　is　now　so

busy　with　is　no　part　of　the　machinery　of　a　watch。〃

　　　〃Perhaps；　father；〃　said　Annie；　without　showing　much　interest　in　the

question；　〃Owen　is　inventing　a　new　kind　of　time…keeper。　I　am　sure　he

has　ingenuity　enough。〃

　　　〃Pooh；　child！　he　has　not　the　sort　of　ingenuity　to　invent　anything

better　than　a　Dutch　toy；〃　answered　her　father；　who　had　formerly　been

put　to　much　vexation　by　Owen　Warland's　irregular　genius。　〃A　plague

on　such　ingenuity！　All　the　effect　that　ever　I　knew　of　it　was；　to　spoil

the　accuracy　of　some　of　the　best　watches　in　my　shop。　He　would　turn　the

sun　out　of　its　orbit；　and　derange　the　whole　course　of　time；　if；　as　I

said　before；　his　ingenuity　could　grasp　anything　bigger　than　a

child's　toy！〃

　　　〃Hush；　father！　he　hears　you；〃　whispered　Annie；　pressing　the　old

man's　arm。　〃His　ears　are　as　delicate　as　his　feelings；　and　you　know　how

easily　disturbed　they　are。　Do　let　us　move　on。〃

　　　So　Peter　Hovenden　and　his　daughter　Annie　plodded　on；　without

further　conversation；　until；　in　a　by…street　of　the　town；　they　found

themselves　passing　the　open　door　of　a　blacksmith's　shop。　Within　was

seen　the　forge；　now　blazing　up；　and　illuminating　the　high　and　dusky

roof；　and　now　confining　its　lustre　to　a　narrow　precinct　of　the

coal…strewn　floor；　according　as　the　breath　of　the　bellows　was　puffed

forth；　or　again　inhaled　into　its　vast　leathern　lungs。　In　the　intervals

of　brightness；　it　was　easy　to　distinguish　objects　in　remote　corners　of

the　shop；　and　the　horse…shoes　that　hung　upon　the　wall；　in　the

momentary　gloom；　the　fire　seemed　to　be　glimmering　amidst　the　vagueness

of　un…enclosed　space。　Moving　about　in　this　red　glare　and　alternate

dusk；　was　the　figure　of　the　blacksmith；　well　worthy　to　be　viewed　in　so

picturesque　an　aspect　of　light　and　shade；　where　the　bright　blaze

struggled　with　the　black　night；　as　if　each　would　have　snatched　his

comely　strength　from　the　other。　Anon；　he　drew　a　white…hot　bar　of

iron　from　the　coals；　laid　it　on　the　anvil；　uplifted　his　arm　of

might；　and　was　seen　enveloped　in　the　myriads　of　sparks　which　the

strokes　of　his　hammer　scattered　into　the　surrounding　gloom。

　　　〃Now；　that　is　a　pleasant　sight；〃　said　the　old　watchmaker。　〃I　know

what　it　is　to　work　in　gold；　but　give　me　the　worker　in　iron；　after

all　is　said　and　done。　He　spends　his　labor　upon　a　reality。　What　say

you；　daughter　Annie？〃

　　　〃Pray　don't　speak　so　loud；　father；〃　whispered　Annie。　〃Robert

Danforth　will　hear　you。〃

　　　〃And　what　if　he　should　hear　me？〃　said　Peter　Hovenden；　〃I　say　again；

it　is　a　good　and　a　wholesome　thing　to　depend　upon　main　strength　and

reality；　and　to　earn　one's　bread　with　the　bare　and　brawny　arm　of　a

blacksmith。　A　watchmaker　gets　his　brain　puzzled　by　his　wheels　within　a

wheel；　or　loses　his　health　or　the　nicety　of　his　eyesight；　as　was　my

case；　and　finds　himself；　at　middle　age；　or　a　little　after；　past

labor　at　his　own　trade；　and　fit　for　nothing　else；　yet　too　poor　to　live

at　his　ease。　So；　I　say　once　again；　give　me　main　strength　for　my　money。

And　then；　how　it　takes　the　nonsense　out　of　a　man！　Did　you　ever　hear　of

a　blacksmith　being　such　a　fool　as　Owen　Warland；　yonder？〃

　　　〃Well　said；　uncle　Hovenden！〃　shouted　Robert　Danforth；　from　the

forge；　in　a　full；　deep；　merry　voice；　that　made　the　roof　reecho。　〃And

what　says　Miss　Annie　to　that　doctrine？　She；　I　suppose；　will　think　it　a

genteeler　business　to　tinker　up　a　lady's　watch　than　to　forge　a

horse…shoe　or　make　a　gridiron！〃

　　　Annie　drew　her　father　onward；　without　giving　him　time　for　reply。

　　　But　we　must　return　to　Owen　Warland's　shop；　and　spend　more

meditation　upon　his　history　and　character　than　either　Peter

Hovenden；　or　probably　his　daughter　Annie；　or　Owen's　old　school…fellow；

Robert　Danforth；　would　have　thought　due　to　so　slight　a　subject。　From

the　time　that　his　little　fingers　could　grasp　a　pen…knife；　Owen　had

been　remarkable　for　a　delicate　ingenuity；　which　sometimes　produced

pretty　shapes　in　wood；　principally　figures　of　flowers　and　birds；　and

sometimes　seemed　to　aim　at　the　hidden　mysteries　of　mechanism。　But　it

was　always　for　purposes　of　grace；　and　never　with　any　mockery　of　the

useful。　He　did　not；　like　the　crowd　of　school…boy　artizans；　construct

little　windmills　on　the　angle　of　a　barn；　or　watermills　across　the

neighboring　brook。　Those　who　discovered　such　peculiarity　in　the　boy；

as　to　think　it　worth　their　while　to　observe　him　closely；　sometimes　saw

reason　to　suppose　that　he　was　attempting　to　imitate　the　beautiful

movements　of　nature；　as　exemplified　in　the　flight　of　birds　or　the

activity　of　little　animals。　It　seemed；　in　fact；　a　new　development　of

the　love　of　the　Beautiful；　such　as　might　have　made　him　a　poet；　a

painter；　or　a　sculptor；　and　which　was　as　completely　refined　from　all

utilitarian　coarseness；　as　it　could　have　been　in　either　of　the　fine

arts。　He　looked　with　singular　distaste　at　the　stiff　and　regular

processes　of　ordinary　machinery。　Being　once　carried　to　see　a

steam…engine；　in　the　expectation　that　his　intuitive　comprehension　of

mechanical　principle　would　be　gratified；　he　turned　pale；　and　grew

sick；　as　if　something　monstrous　and　unnatural　had　been　presented　to

him。　This　horror　was　partly　owing　to　the　size　and　terrible　energy　of

the　Iron　Laborer；　for　the　character　of　Owen's　mind　was　microscopic；

and　tended　naturally　to　the　minute；　in　accordance　with　his

diminutive　frame；　and　the　marvellous　smallness　and　delicate　power　of

his　fingers。　Not　that　his　sense　of　beauty　was　thereby　diminished

into　a　sense　of　prettiness。　The　beautiful　Idea　has　no　relation　to

size；　and　may　be　as　perfectly　developed　in　a　space　too　minute　for

any　but　microscopic　investigation；　as　within　the　ample　verge　that　is

measured　by　the　arc　of　the　rainbow。　But；　at　all　events；　this

characteristic　minuteness　in　his　objects　and　accomplishments　made

the　world　even　more　incapable　than　it　might　otherwise　have　been；　of

appreciating　Owen　Warland's　genius。　The　boy's　relatives　saw　nothing

better　to　be　done…　as　perhaps　there　was　not…　than　to　bind　him

apprentice　to　a　watchmaker；　hoping　that　his　strange　ingenuity　might

thus　be　regulated；　and　put　to　utili…tarian　purposes。

　　　Peter　Hovenden's　opinion　of　his　apprentice　has　already　been

expressed。　He　could　make　nothing　of　the　lad。　Owen's　apprehension　of

the　professional　mysteries；　it　is　true；　was　inconceivably　quick。　But

he　altogether　forgot　or　despised　the　grand　object　of　a　watchmaker's

business；　and　cared　no　more　for　the　measurement　of　time　than　if　it　had

been　merged　into　eternity。　So　long；　however；　as　he　remained　under

his　old　master's　care；　Owen's　lack　of　sturdiness　made　it　possible；

by　strict　injunctions　and　sharp　oversight；　to　restrain　his　creative

eccentricity　within　bounds。　But　when　his　apprenticeship　was　served

out；　and　he　had　taken　the　little　shop　which　Peter　Hovenden's　failing

eyesight　compelled　him　to　relinquish；　then　did　people　recognize　how

unfit　a　person　was　Owen　Warland　to　lead　old　blind　Father　Time　along

his　daily　course。　One　of　his　most　rational　projects　was；　to　connect

a　musical　operation　with　the　machinery　of　his　watches；　so　that　all　the

harsh　dissonances　of　life　might　be　rendered　tuneful；　and　each　flitting

moment　fall　into　the　abyss　of　the　Past　in　golden　drops　of　harmony。

If　a　family…clock　was　entrusted　to　him　for　repair…　one　of　those

tall；　ancient　clocks　that　have　grown　nearly　allied　to　human　nature；　by

measuring　out　the　lifetime　of　many　generations…　he　would　take　upon

himself　to　arrange　a　dance　or　funeral　procession　of　figures　across　its

venerable　face；　representing　twelve　mirthful　or　melancholy　hours。

Several　freaks　of　this　kind　quite　destroyed　the　young　watchmaker's

credit　with　that　steady　and　matter…of…fact　class　of　people；　who　hold

the　opinion　that　time　is　not　to　be　trifled　with；　whether　considered　as

the　medium　of　advancement　and　prosperity　in　this　world；　or　preparation

for　the　next。　His　custom　rapidly　diminished…　a　misfortune；　however；

that　was　probably　reckoned　among　his　better　accidents　by　Owen　Warland；

who　was　becoming　more　and　more　absorbed　in　a　secret　occupation；

which　drew　all　his　science　and　manual　dexterity　into　itself；　and

likewise　gave　full　employment　to　the　characteristic　tendencies　of

his　genius。　This　pursuit　had　already　consumed　many　months。

　　　After　the　old　watchmaker　and　his　pretty　daughter　had　gazed　at

him；　out　of　the　obscurity　of　the　street；　Owen　Warland　was　seized

with　a　fluttering　of　the　nerves；　which　made　his　hand　tremble　too

violently　to　proceed　with　such　delicate　labor　as　he　was　now　engaged

upon。

　　　〃It　was　Annie　herself！〃　murmured　he。　〃I　should　have　known　by　this

throbbing　of　my　heart；　before　I　heard　her　father's　voice。　Ah；　how　it

throbs！　I　shall　scarcely　be　able　to　work　again　on　this　exquisite

mechanism　tonight。　Annie…　dearest　Annie…　thou　shouldst　give　firmness

to　my　heart　and　hand；　and　not　shake　them　thus；　for　if　I　str