THE COMET

THE comet came，shone with its core of fire，andthreatened with its rod；they looked at it from the richpalace，and the poor cottage；the crowd on the streetlooked at it，and the lonely one who went his way over thepathless heath；every one had his thoughts about it．

"Come and look at the sign in the heavens！come andlook at the splendid sight，"they said，and an hastened tolook．

But in the room there sat a little boy with his mother；the tallow candle was burning，and the mother thought thatthere was a shroud in the candle；the tallow stood up in apoint and curled over；that meant，she believed，that thelittle boy must soon die，the shroud turned towards him．Itwas an old superstition，and she believed it．

The little boy was really destined to live many yearson the earth，to live and see the comet，when it reappearedmore than sixty years later．

He did not see the shroud in the candle，and had nothought for the comet，which for the first time in his lifeshone from the heavens．He sat with a mended slop－basinin front of him；in it were some soap－suds，and he dippedthe head of a clay-pipe down into it，put the stem in hismouth and blew soap-bubbles，great and small；theyswayed and floated with the most lovely colours，whichchanged from yellow to red，lilac and blue，and then be－came green，like the leaves of the forest when the sunshines through them．

"God grant thee as many years here on the earth asthe bubbles thou blowest！"

"So many，so many，"said the little one，"the soap-suds can never be all used up！"and the little one blewbubble after bubble．

"There flies a year！there flies a year！see how theyfly！"said he，with every bubble which got free and flewoff．One or two went right into his eyes；they smarted andburned，and the tears came into his eyes．In every bubblehe saw a vision of the future，shining and glittering．

"Now you can see the comet！"cried the neighbours．"Come out；don't sit inside there！"

And the mother took the little boy by the hand；hewas obliged to lay aside the clay－pipe，and stop playingwith the soap－bubbles；—the comet was there．

And the little boy saw the shining ball of fire，withthe radiant tail；some people said that it was three yardslong，others that it was millions of yards long；people seeso differently．"Children and grandchildren may be deadbefore it appears again！"people said．

Most of those who said it were really dead and gonebefore it reappeared；but the little boy for whom theshroud stood in the candle，and of whom the motherthought"He will die soon！"still lived，old and white－haired．"White hair is the flower of age！"the proverbsays，and he had many of the flowers；he was now an oldschoolmaster．The school-children said he was very wise，and knew so much；knew history，and geography，andeverything that is known about the heavenly bodies．

"Everything comes round again！"said he；"onlytake notice of people and events，and you will find thatthey always come again，in another dress，in anothercountry．"

The schoolmaster had just told about William Tell，who had to shoot an apple off his son's head，but beforehe shot the arrow，he hid in his breast another arrow withwhich to shoot the wicked Gesler in the heart．It was inSwitzerland that that happened，but many years before，the same thing had happened in Denmark with Palnatoke；he also had to shoot an apple off his son's head，andhid，like Tell，an arrow to avenge himself with；and morethan a thousand years farther back，the same story wasrecorded as having taken place in Egypt．The same thingscome again like the comet，they pass away，disappear，and come again．

And he talked about the comet which was expected，the comet he had seen as a little boy．The schoolmasterknew the heavenly bodies，and thought over them，butdid not forget history and geography because of them．

He had laid out his garden in the shape of the map ofDenmark．The plants and flowers were arranged accordingas they grow best in the different parts of the country．"Bring me some peas！"said he，and one went to the bedwhich represented Lolland．"Fetch me some buck-wheat，"and one went to Langeland．The lovely blue gentian andsweet-willow were to be found up in Skagen，the glisteningholly over at Silkeborg．The towns themselves were markedwith stone figures．Here stood St．Canute with the dragon，that signified Odense；Absalon with a bishop's staff signi-fied Sor；the little boat with the oars was the mark thathere lay the town of Aarhus．From the schoolmaster's gar－den，one could learn the map of Denmark very well；butone must first be instructed by him，and that was so pleas－ant．

The comet was expected now，and he told what thepeople had said and thought about it，in the old days whenit was here last．"The comet－year is a good wine year，"hesaid；"one can dilute the wine with water，and it will notbe noticed．The wine-sellers should think much of thecomet－year．"

The sky was full of clouds for fourteen days andnights．The comet could not be seen，but it was there．

The old schoolmaster sat in his little room，close bythe schoolroom．The grandfather's clock，which had be－longed to his parents，stood in the corner；the heavy leadenweights neither rose nor fell，the pendulum did not move．The little cuckoo，which used to come forward to cuckoothe hour，had for several years sat silent behind closeddoors：all was quiet and silent there，the clock went nomore．But the old piano close by，which had also belongedto his parents，still had life，and the strings could sound，though certainly a little hoarse，the melodies of a wholegeneration．The old man remembered so many of them，both joyful and sorrowful，in the years from the time whenhe was a little boy and saw the comet，till now when it washere again．He remembered what his mother said about theshroud in the candle，he remembered the lovely soap－bub－bles he blew；every one was a year of life，he had said，how radiant，how rich in colour！everything lovely and joy－ful he saw there；childish games and youthful pleasure，the whole of the wide world open in the sunshine，and heshould go out in it！that was the bubble of the future．Asan old man he heard melodies of the vanished times fromthe strings of the piano：the bubbles of remembrance withmemory's colour tints；there sounded Grandmother'sknitting song：

'Twas certainly no Amazon That knitted first a stocking．

There sounded the song which the old servant hadsung for him as a child：

There are so many dangers Wherein the young may fall， Who are of years but tender And understanding small．

Now sounded the melodies from the first ball，aminuet and Polish dance；now sounded soft，sorrowfultones，which brought tears into the eyes of the old man；now rushed a battle-march，now a psalm tune，now gaytones，bubble on bubble，just as when he，as a littleboy，blew them of soap－suds．

His eyes were fastened on the window，a cloud inthe sky glided away and he saw in clear air the comet，itsshining heart，its bright misty veil．

It seemed as if he had seen it yesterday evening，and yet there lay a whole lifetime between that time andnow；at that time he was a child，and saw the future inthe bubbles，now the bubbles pointed backward；he feltthe childish mind and childish faith，his eyes shone，hishand sank down on the keys—it sounded as if a stringbroke．

"Come and see，the comet is here，"cried theneighbours，"the sky is so beautifully clear！come andsee！"The old schoolmaster did not answer，he was goneto see in reality；his soul had gone on a longer course，in a wider space than the comet flies through．Thecomet was again seen from the rich castle，from the poorcottage，by the crowd in the street，and by the crowd inthe street，and by the lonely one on teh trackless heath．His soul was seen by God and by the dear ones who hadgohe before—those he had longed for．

彗星

 

彗星出现了，它的火星发出闪光，它的尾巴使人害怕。人们从华贵的宫殿上望它，从简陋的村屋里望它；街道上的人群望它，孤独的步行者在没有路径的荒地上望它。各人对它有各人自己的想法。

“请来看看天上的信号吧！请来看看这个美丽景象吧！”大家说。于是大家都跑来看。

但是有一个小孩子和他的母亲却还是坐在房间里。蜡烛在燃着；母亲觉得烛光里有一块尸布。蜡烛周围堆起一层尖尖的熔蜡，然后又慢慢倒下来。她相信这意味着她的孩子快要死亡。那块尸布的确也正在转向他。

这是一个古老的迷信，而她相信它。

可是这个孩子恰恰要在世界上活得很久，一直活到要看见这60年以后又重新出现的彗星。

孩子没有看见烛光里的尸布，他也没有想到在他生平第一次看到的出现于天空的彗星。他坐在一个修补过的破碗面前。这里面盛着肥皂水。他把一个小泥烟斗放进去，把烟管衔在嘴里，吹出一堆大大小小的肥皂泡来。肥皂泡上射出一堆最美丽的颜色，在空中飘着，浮着，这些颜色从黄变红，从紫变蓝，最后变成绿色，像被太阳透射着的树林里的叶子。

“愿上帝让你在这世界上所活着的年月，能像你所吹出的泡一样多！”

“可多啦！可多啦！”小家伙说。“肥皂水怎么也吹不完！”

于是孩子吹出一连串的肥皂泡。

“一年过去了！一年过去了！它们过得多快啊！”每一个泡吹出和飞走了的时候，他就这样说。有几个泡飞进他的眼睛里去了，引起刺痛和火辣辣的感觉，于是他的眼泪就流出来了。在每一个泡里，他看到光华灿烂的、未来的幻景。

“现在我们可以看到彗星了！”邻居们喊着。“快出来看吧，不要呆在屋子里呀！”

于是妈妈就牵着这小家伙走出来；他不得不把泥烟斗放到一边，停止玩肥皂泡，因为彗星出现了。

小家伙看见这个发光的火球后面拖着一条亮晶晶的尾巴。有人说，这条尾巴有三码长；还有些人说，它有几百万码长。每个人的看法是那样不同。

“它再出现的时候，儿子和孙子也许早已死了！”人们说。

说这话的人，在它没有重新出现以前，大多数真的都死了。不过这个小孩子——烛光里的尸布曾为他出现过，妈妈也曾经以为“他不久就要死了！”——却仍然活着，只是年纪很老，头发全都白了。俗话说：“白发是老年之花！”他现在的花可不少。他现在是一个年老的教员。小学生都说他非常聪明，知道的东西很多，懂得历史、地理和人类所有关于天体的知识。

“一切东西都会再来的！”他说。“你只消注意人和事。那么你就会知道，他们又会重新到来——只是穿着不同的衣服，在不同的国家里罢了。”

教员刚刚讲完关于威廉·退尔的故事：他不得不用箭来射那个放在他儿子头上的苹果。不过在他射出这支箭以前，他怀里还藏着另外一支箭，为的是准备把它射进那个恶毒的盖斯勒尔的心里去。这件事发生在瑞士，同样的事情也曾发生在丹麦的巴尔纳托克身上。他也不得不射一个放在他儿子头上的苹果，同时像退尔一样，身上也藏着一支箭准备报仇。在一千多年以前，历史上记载着埃及也发生过同样的事情。这些同样的事情像彗星一样常常重新出现。它们过去了，消逝了，然后又回来。

于是他又谈起大家所盼望的那颗彗星——他在小时候曾经看见过的那颗彗星。教员知道关于各种天体的事情，思索着它们，但他并不因此就忘记了他的历史和地理。

他把他的花园布置成为一张丹麦的地图。植物和花，在这个国家的哪个区域长得最好，他就栽在哪个区域里。“替我摘颗豌豆来！”他说。于是人们就到代表洛兰的那块花圃上去。“替我弄点荞麦来！”于是人们就到代表朗兰的那块花圃上去。美丽的蓝龙胆和杨梅生长在斯卡根，光泽的冬青生长在西尔克堡。城市则是用石像来做标志。圣·克努得和龙在一起代表奥登塞。阿卜萨龙和一根主教的牧杖代表苏洛。一条小船和桨说明这儿就是奥湖斯镇。在这位教员的花园里，人们可以学会丹麦的地理。不过人们得先请教他一下，而这是非常愉快的事情。

现在大家都等待彗星出现，他告诉大家，在多少年以前彗星头一次出现的时候，人们曾经说过一些什么话，有过一些怎样的想法。

“彗星出现的一年就是产美酒的一年。”他说。“人们可以在酒里渗水，而不会有人尝得出来。酒商应该非常喜欢彗星年。”

整整有14天和14夜，天上覆满了乌云。彗星是没有办法看见了，但是它却在那儿。

老教员坐在教室旁边的一个小房间里。墙角里是一座他父亲时代的、波尔霍尔姆造的落地式大摆钟。沉重的铅锤既不上升，也不下降；钟摆也不摇动。那只每过一点钟就跳出来叫一次的杜鹃，已经呆在闭着的门后好几年没有作声了。钟里是沉寂无声，它已经不走了。不过那架老钢琴——也是父亲时代的东西——仍然还有生命。弦还能发出声音——虽然不免有些粗哑，同时还能弹出一代的歌曲；老教员听到这些曲子，就记起了许多欢乐和忧郁的事情——从他小时看到彗星的时候起，直到彗星重新出现的时候为止。他记起母亲所说的关于烛里尸布的话；他记起他所吹起的那些美丽的肥皂泡。他曾经说过，每一颗肥皂泡代表一年的生活——多么光彩夺目啊！他在它里面所看见的东西都是美丽的，欢乐的：孩子的游戏和青春的快乐。整个的世界是充满了阳光，而他就要走进这个世界里去！这代表未来的泡影。他现在作为一个老人，听着钢琴弦所发出的过去一代的歌曲。回忆的肥皂泡染着回忆的种种色彩。这是祖母织毛袜时唱出的一支歌：

织头一只袜子的人。

当然不会是阿玛琮。

这是家里的老女佣人在他小时唱给他听的一支歌：

年纪轻轻的小伙子， 和不懂事的天真汉， 在这茫茫的世界里， 会碰见许多的危险。

一会儿是他参加第一次舞会时的乐曲——一支小步舞曲和一支波兰舞曲；一会儿又是一支柔和的、抑郁的曲调——使这位老教员流出眼泪；一会儿又是战争进行曲；一会儿又是唱圣诗的乐曲；一会儿又是欢乐的乐曲。这个泡影接着那个泡影——正如他小时候用肥皂水吹出的那样。

他的眼睛凝视着窗子：有一块白云在天上走过去了；他在晴空中看见了彗星，它的耀眼的核心和它发光而模糊的“扫帚”。

他似乎觉得他是在昨天晚上头一次看见它的，然而上一次和这一次之间却是整个一生的时间。那时他还是一个孩子，而且是在泡影里来看“未来”；但是现在他却是从泡影里去看“过去”。他感觉到一种儿时的心境和儿时的信念。他的眼睛亮起来，他的手落到钢琴键上——它发出的声音好像有一根弦断了。

“出来瞧瞧吧，彗星出来了，”邻居们说。“天上是非常明朗，美丽极了！出来瞧瞧吧！”

老教员不回答。他为了要看得更清楚，已经到别的地方去了。他的灵魂已经开始了一个更远的旅行，已经到了比彗星所飞的地方还要广大的空间里。华贵宫殿里的人们，简陋的村屋里的人们，街道上的人群，在没有路径的荒地上的孤独的步行者，现在又看到彗星了，但是上帝和他的那些先逝去了的亲爱的人们——他所想念的那些人们——都看到了他的灵魂。

这篇小品首次发表在1869年6月纽约出版的《青少年河边杂志》第3卷上，两个月以后——即1869年8月又发表在丹麦的《思想与现实》杂志上。它通过“彗星”引申到人的一生经历——这也像彗星一样，瞬即成为“泡影”。“他似乎觉得他是在昨天晚上头一次看见它的，然而上一次和这一次之间是整个一生的时间。那时他还是一个孩子，而且是在泡影里来看‘未来’；但是现在他却是从泡影里去看‘过去’。他感觉到一种儿时的心境和儿时的信念。他的眼睛亮起来，他的手落到钢琴键上——它发出的声音好像有一根弦断了。”一根弦是断了，但他的灵魂却得到了升华，飞到他先逝去的亲爱的人中间去了。