Кельтские сумерки. Уровень 1 / The Celtic Twilight

One day, while having dinner with him, the servant-maid announced the arrival of a certain Mr. O’Donnell. A sudden silence fell over the old man and his two daughters. Eventually, the eldest daughter sternly told her father, “Go and invite him in for dinner.” The old man went out and returned looking greatly relieved, saying, “He says he won’t dine with us.” The daughter told him, “Go out and invite him into the back parlor, and offer him some whiskey.” Even though her father didn’t want to do so, he got up and went to the guest. The daughter then turned to me and explained, “Mr. O’Donnell is the tax collector[68 - tax collector – сборщик налогов], and last year he raised our taxes. My father was very angry and, when he arrived, took him into the dairy. He sent the dairywoman away and continued to swear at him quite a bit. ‘I will teach you, sir,’ O’Donnell replied, ‘that the law can protect its officers.’ But my father reminded him that there were no witnesses. Eventually, my father grew tired[69 - grew tired – почувствовал усталость] and, feeling guilty, said he would show him a shortcut[70 - shortcut – кратчайший путь] home. When they were halfway to the main road, they met one of my father’s workers who was plowing[71 - to plow – вспахивать, пахать], and this somehow reminded him of the wrong. He sent the worker away and began swearing at the tax collector again. When I heard about it, I was disgusted that he would make such a fuss[72 - make a fuss – поднимать шум] over a person like O’Donnell. And when I learned a few weeks ago that O’Donnell’s only son had died, I made up my mind to encourage my father to be kind to him the next time he came.”

She then went out to see a neighbor, and I walked towards the back parlor. As I came closer to the door, I heard angry voices inside. The two men seemed to be discussing taxes again. I opened the door, and upon seeing my face, the farmer remembered his peaceful intentions and asked me if I knew where the whiskey was. I had seen him put it in the cupboard, so I find it and bring it out while looking at the thin, sorrowful[73 - sorrowful – печальный, грустный, жалобный] face of the tax collector. He was older than my friend and looked much weaker. Unlike my friend, who was strong and successful, he seemed like one of those who couldn’t find a place to rest on this earth. I recognized him as a dreamer and said, “You must be from the old O’Donnell family. I know the spot in the river where their treasure[74 - treasure – сокровище] is buried, guarded by a serpent with many heads.” “Yes, sir,” he replied, “I am the last descendant[75 - last descendant – последний потомок] of a line of princes.”

We then started talking about various ordinary things, and my friend didn’t once toss up his beard but was very friendly. Eventually, the old tax collector got up to leave, and my friend said, “I hope we can share a drink together next year.” “No, no,” he replied, “I will be dead by then.” “I have also lost sons,” the other said in a gentle voice. “But your sons were not like my son.” And then the two men parted ways, with an angry flush[76 - angry flush – гневный румянец] and bitter hearts. If I hadn’t intervened[77 - to intervene – вмешиваться] with some common words, they might not have parted but instead engaged in an angry argument about the worth of their dead sons. If I didn’t have compassion for all dreamers, I would have let them fight it out, and I would now have many remarkable oaths[78 - oaths – клятвы] to record.

AN ENDURING HEART

One day, a friend of mine was drawing a picture of my Knight of the Sheep. The old man’s daughter was there, and when the conversation turned to love, she said, “Oh, father, tell him about your love story.” The old man took his pipe out of his mouth and said, “Nobody marries the person they love,” and then chuckled[79 - to chuckle – посмеиваться, хихикать], “There were fifteen women I liked more than the woman I married,” and he mentioned many women’s names. He then told me that when he was a little boy he had worked for his grandfather. And at that time he was called by his grandfather’s name, which we will say was Doran.He had a close friend named John Byrne, and one day they went to Queenstown[80 - Queenstown – Ков, город в Ирландии, находится в графстве Корк. С 1849 по 1922 годы назывался Куинстауном в честь Королевы Виктории.] to wait for a ship that would take John Byrne to America. While walking along the quay, they saw a girl sitting and crying, with two men arguing in front of her. Doran said, “I think I know what’s wrong. That man must be her brother, and the other man must be her lover. The brother is sending her to America to separate her from the lover. She’s crying so much, but I think I could comfort her myself.” Eventually, the lover and brother left, and Doran started talking to her, saying things like, “Nice weather, Miss.” She responded after a while, and the three of them began talking. The ship didn’t arrive for a few days, so the three of them happily explored the area in horse-drawn carriages. When the ship finally came, Doran had to tell her that he wasn’t going to America. She cried more for him than she did for her first lover. Before boarding the ship, Doran whispered to Byrne, “Now, Byrne, I don’t envy you, but don’t get married young.”

He continued the story, telling how he wrote Byrne the same advice when he received a letter about Byrne’s engagement to the girl. Years passed, and he heard nothing. Finally, he went to America to find out, but he couldn’t find any information. More years went by, his wife passed away, and he grew older, becoming a rich farmer with many responsibilities. He found an excuse to go back to America and resume his search. One day, he struck up a conversation with an Irishman on a train and asked about emigrants from certain places, including the miller’s daughter from Innis Rath[81 - Innis Rath – Инис-Рат, остров, расположенный в Лох-Эрн, в графстве Фермана, Северная Ирландия.], mentioning her name. The man replied, “Oh yes, she’s married to my friend, John MacEwing. She lives on such-and-such street in Chicago.” Doran went to Chicago and knocked on her door. She opened it herself and hadn’t changed a bit. He told her his real name, which he started using again after his grandfather passed away, and the name of the man he met on the train. She didn’t recognize him but invited him to stay for dinner, saying her husband would be happy to meet someone who knew his old friend. They talked about many things, but for some reason, he never revealed his true identity to her. During dinner, he asked about Byrne, and she put her head down on the table and started crying. He was worried that her husband might get angry, so he didn’t dare ask what had happened to Byrne. He left shortly after and never saw her again.

    1902.

THE SORCERERS[82 - sorcerers – колдуны]

In Ireland, we don’t hear much about dark powers, and it’s rare to meet someone who has seen them. These dark powers are said to be always around us, like bats[83 - bats – летучие мыши] on an old tree. We don’t hear much about them because dark magic is not commonly practiced. I have met very few people in Ireland who try to communicate with evil powers, and they keep their activities hidden. They are usually small clerks and meet in a room with black curtains for their practices. They didn’t let me into that room, but since I had some knowledge of the mysterious arts, they showed me what they could do in another place. Their leader, a clerk from a flour-mill[84 - flour-mill – мукомольная фабрика], invited me to join them and witness spirits who can talk to us face to face, in solid and heavy forms like our own.

On the agreed night, I arrived around eight o’clock and found the leader sitting alone in a small dim room. He was wearing a black robe that covered him completely, except for his eyes that peered through two small holes. On the table in front of him, there was a dish with burning herbs, a large bowl, a skull with painted symbols, two crossed daggers[85 - dagger – кинжал], and some tools shaped like stones. The sorcerer took a black rooster out of a basket and used one of the daggers to cut its throat, letting the blood flow into the large bowl. He opened a book and started an invocation in a language I couldn’t understand. Before he finished, another sorcerer entered the room and sat on my left side. I had the invoker directly in front of me, and I began to feel a strange effect from his eyes. I struggled against their influence, and my head started to ache. The invocation continued, and nothing happened in the first few minutes. Then the invoker stood up and turned off the light in the room, so there was no light except for the herbs burning on the dish.

Then the person on my left started moving and exclaimed, “Oh God! Oh God!” I asked him what was wrong, but he didn’t realize he had spoken. A moment later, he said he could see a large snake moving around the room. I didn’t see anything with a clear shape, but I felt like dark clouds were forming around me. I knew I had to resist[86 - to resist – сопротивляться] entering a trance state caused by this influence, which felt evil. After a struggle, I managed to dispel the dark clouds and regain[87 - to regain – восстанавливать, вновь обретать] my normal senses. The two sorcerers began to see black and white columns moving in the room, and eventually, they saw a man in a monk’s robe[88 - monk’s robe – монашеская ряса]. They were confused that I couldn’t see these things because, to them, they appeared as solid as the table in front of them. The invoker seemed to be gaining more power, and I felt as if a wave of darkness was emanating[89 - to emanate – исходить] from him and surrounding me. I also noticed that the person on my left had fallen into a deep trance. With a final effort, I pushed away the dark clouds. However, since those clouds were the only shapes I could see without entering a trance, and I didn’t particularly like them, I asked for lights to be turned on. After the necessary ritual, I returned to the ordinary world.

For several days, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of having deformed and grotesque figures lingering around me. The Bright Powers are always beautiful and desirable, and the Dim Powers can be beautiful or strange. However, the Dark Powers manifest their imbalanced nature through shapes of ugliness and horror.

THE DEVIL

One day, an old woman from Mayo[90 - Mayo – Ме2йо, графство на западе Ирландии. Входит в состав провинции Коннахт на территории Республики Ирландии.] told me that something very bad had come down the road and entered the house across from hers. She didn’t say what it was, but I understood. Another time, she shared a story about two of her friends who have met the devil. One of them was standing by the roadside when the person on horseback[91 - on horseback – верхом на лошади] asked her to join him for a ride. When she said “no”, he disappeared. The other friend was waiting for her boyfriend on the road late at night when something rolled towards her. It looked like a newspaper, but suddenly it flew up into her face. It was the Irish Times[92 - Irish Times – «Айриш таймс», ирландская ежедневная широкоформатная газета, издается с 29 марта 1859 года.]! Then it turned into a young man who invited her to go for a walk. She said “no”, and he was gone.

I also know of an old man living on the slopes of Ben Bulben who found the devil ringing a bell under his bed. So, he went and stole the chapel bell[93 - chapel bell – колокол часовни] and rang it, driving the devil away. Probably, like the other stories, this wasn’t actually the devil but a woodland spirit with cloven feet[94 - cloven feet – копытца].

HAPPY AND UNHAPPY THEOLOGIANS[95 - theologians – теологи]

I

Once, a woman from Mayo told me a story. She said, “I knew a maid who hanged herself[96 - hanged herself – повесилась]because of her love for God. She felt lonely without the priest and her community, so she used a scarf to hang herself from the banister. As soon as she died, she turned as white as a lily. They gave her a Christian burial, and the priest said that she was immediately with the Lord after her death. So, it doesn’t matter what you do for the love of God.” I understand why she enjoys telling this story. She herself has a strong love for all things holy. She once told me that she sees everything described in a sermon with her own eyes. She described the gates of Purgatory as they appeared to her. One day, she asked me which month and flower were the most beautiful. When I said I didn’t know, she replied, “The month of May because of the Virgin Mary, and the lily of the valley because it never sinned, but came pure out of the rocks.” Then she asked, “Why are there the three cold months of winter?” I didn’t know the answer to that either, so she said, “It’s the sin of humanity and God’s punishment.”

She thinks the fairies are pleasant and beautiful. She never calls them Fallen Angels[97 - Fallen Angels – падшие ангелы]. They are like regular people, but more attractive. She often watches them drive their wagons[98 - wagon – повозка] through the sky, one after another, in a long line. Even though they once knocked her down[99 - knocked her down – сбили ее с ног], she doesn’t think badly of them. She saw them most frequently when she worked in King’s County. One morning, she told me, “Last night, I was waiting for the master until a quarter past eleven. Then I heard a loud noise on the table. I laughed so much that I almost died. It was a sign that I was staying up too late. They wanted the place to themselves.” Once, I told her about someone who saw fairies and fainted. She said, “It couldn’t have been a fairy, but something evil. Nobody faints at the sight of fairies. It must have been a demon. Fairies are the best neighbors. If you treat them well, they will treat you well, but they don’t like it when you cross their path.” Another time she said to me, “They are always kind to the poor.”

II

There is, however, a man in a Galway village who can see nothing but wickedness. Some people think he is very holy, but others think he is a little crazy. He says, “I know a priest who was looking on the ground like he was searching for something, and a voice said to him, ‘If you want to see them, you will see plenty of them,’ and his eyes opened, and he saw many of them on the ground. Sometimes they sing and dance, but they always have split feet[100 - split feet – раздвоенные ступни]. One night, after walking back from Kinvara, he felt one coming beside him. He could feel the horse the fairies was riding, but it didn’t sound like a horse’s hooves[101 - hooves – копыта]. So he stopped, turned around, and loudly said, ‘Go away!’ and the fairies left and never bothered him again. He thinks they are fallen angels, and after their fall, God created Hell[102 - Hell – ад]”

“I saw Hell once. It was like a vision. It had a tall metal wall around it with an archway[103 - archway – арка, свод] and a straight path leading into it. Inside the wall, there were pathways, and on the left, there were five big furnaces[104 - furnace – печь] where souls were kept with heavy chains. I quickly turned and left, but as I turned, I looked at the wall again and couldn’t see an end to it.

“Another time, I saw Purgatory. It seemed to be in a flat place without any walls, just a bright fire, and souls standing in it. They suffer almost as much as in Hell, but there are no devils there, and they have hope for Heaven.”

“ And I heard a voice calling to me from there, saying, ‘Help me get out of here!’ When I looked, it was a man I knew from the army, an Irishman from this county. “

“I reached out my hand at first, but then I shouted, ‘I’d rather be burned in the flames than come within three yards of you.’ So he said, ‘Well, help me with your prayers,’ and that’s what I do.

    1902.

THE LAST GLEEMAN[105 - gleeman – менестрель]

Michael Moran was born around 1794 in a place called Black Pitts, in Dublin’s Liberties area, specifically in Faddle Alley. Two weeks after he was born, he became blind because of an illness. This became a blessing for his parents because they could send him out to recite rhymes and beg for money on the streets. By the time he became an adult, he was the leader among all the street ballad singers in the Liberties. However, his physical appearance was not impressive. He wore a coarse frieze coat[106 - coarse frieze coat – грубое шерстяное пальто] with a cape and scalloped edge[107 - scalloped edge – зубчатый край], old corduroy[108 - corduroy – вельветовый] trousers, big boots, and carried a sturdy stick attached to his wrist with a leather strap. Moran lacked the traditional cloak and leather bag, but he was a true gleeman. He was a poet, a jester[109 - jester – шут], and a news bearer[110 - news bearer – разносчик новостей] for the common people. In the morning, after finishing his breakfast, his wife or a neighbor would read the newspaper to him. They would continue reading until he interrupted[111 - to interrupt – прерывать, обрывать] and said, “That’s enough – I need some time for my thoughts.” From these moments of reflection[112 - reflection – размышление], he would gather material for his jokes and rhymes for the day.

When his reflective thoughts didn’t bring satisfactory results or when the crowd wanted something different, he would recite or sing a rhythmic tale or ballad about saints or biblical adventures. One of his most well-known religious tales was “St. Mary of Egypt,”. It tells the story of a sinful[113 - sinful – грешный] woman from Egypt named Mary, who followed pilgrims to Jerusalem for questionable reasons. When she was stopped from entering the Temple by supernatural forces, she repented[114 - to repent – каяться] and went to the desert, where she spent the rest of her life in solitary penance[115 - solitary penance – уединенное покаяние]. At the end of her life, God sent Bishop Zozimus to hear her confession, administer the last sacrament[116 - sacrament – причастие], and with the help of a lion, whom God also sent, dig her grave. Moran also had his own poem called “Moses,” which was a bit closer to poetry without being very close. However, he didn’t have much patience for solemnity[117 - solemnity – торжественность, серьезность] and before long, he parodied his own verses like this:

In the land of Egypt, close to the Nile,
King Pharaoh’s daughter went for a stylish swim.
She took her dip[118 - to take a dip – искупаться, окунуться], then walked back to the land,
To dry her royal skin, she ran along the beach.
A bulrush[119 - bulrush – камыш]tripped her, and then she saw
A smiling baby in a bundle of straw[120 - bundle of straw – пучок соломы].
She picked it up and asked in a gentle voice,
“Hey, girls, who among you owns this child?”

But most of his funny rhymes were jokes and teasing about the people he knew. For example, he liked to make fun of a shoemaker who was known for showing off[121 - to show off – хвастаться] his money but not keeping himself clean. He would sing a song to remind him of his humble beginnings. We only have the first verse of that song:

At the dirty end of Dirty Lane,
Lived a dirty cobbler[122 - cobbler – сапожник], Dick Maclane;
His wife was in the old king’s reign
A stout brave orange-woman[123 - orange-woman – женщина, торгующая апельсинами].
On Essex Bridge she strained her throat,
And six-a-penny was her cost.
But Dickey wore a brand-new coat,
He got among the yeomen[124 - yeomen – Йомены, в феодальной Англии свободные мелкие землевладельцы, которые самостоятельно занимались обработкой земли.].
He was a bigot[125 - bigot – фанатик, ханжа], like his clan,
And in the streets he wildly sang,
O Roly, toly, toly raid, with his old jade[126 - jade – кляча].

He had a lot of troubles. Once, a policeman arrested him as a vagabond[127 - vagabond – бродяга, бродяжничество было официально запрещено законом], but he was able to defeat the officer in court, and everyone laughed. As Moran’s fame grew, he faced a more serious problem. Several pretenders[128 - pretender – притворщик, самозванец] appeared from all directions. For example, an actor made a lot of money by imitating Moran’s words, songs, and appearance on stage. One night, the actor was having dinner with friends, and they argued about whether his imitation was overdone or not. They decided to ask the public. A forty-shilling supper at a famous cafe was to be the wager[129 - wager – ставка]. The actor came to Essex Bridge, a place where Moran often visited, and soon gathered a small crowd. He had barely started reciting “In Egypt’s land, contagious to the Nile” when Moran himself arrived, followed by another crowd. The two crowds met with great excitement and laughter. The pretender exclaimed, “Good people, can you believe that anyone would mock the poor blind man like that?”

“Who’s that? It’s someone pretending to be me,” Moran replied.

“Go away, you terrible person! You’re the one pretending to be me. Aren’t you afraid that the heavens will punish you for making fun of a poor blind man?”

“Oh my goodness, is there no protection against this? You’re a very cruel person trying to take away my honest means of living,” poor Moran replied.

“And you, you terrible person, won’t let me continue with the beautiful poem. Kind people, please help me and chase this man away. He’s taking advantage of my blindness.”

The pretender thanked the people for their sympathy and protection, and went on with the poem,

Moran listened in silence for a while. After some time, Moran protested again, saying:

“Don’t any of you recognize me? Can’t you see that it’s me, and that’s someone else?”

“Before I continue with this wonderful story,” the pretender interrupted, “I ask you to donate money to help me keep going.”