Читать книгу Кельтские сумерки. Уровень 1 / The Celtic Twilight - Уильям Батлер Йейтс - Страница 15

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] with a cape and scalloped edge[107], old corduroy[108] 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], and a news bearer[110] 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] and said, “That’s enough – I need some time for my thoughts.” From these moments of reflection[112], 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] 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] and went to the desert, where she spent the rest of her life in solitary penance[115]. At the end of her life, God sent Bishop Zozimus to hear her confession, administer the last sacrament[116], 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] and before long, he parodied his own verses like this:

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] 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:

He had a lot of troubles. Once, a policeman arrested him as a vagabond[127], 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] 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]. 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.”

“Don’t you have a soul to save, you mocker of heaven?” cried Moran, completely overwhelmed by this latest insult. “Are you trying to rob the poor and deceive the world? Oh, has such wickedness ever been seen before?”

“I’ll leave it up to you, my friends,” said the pretender, “to give money to the real blind man that you all know so well and save me from that trickster[130].” He collected some money while doing so. Meanwhile, Moran started reciting his poem “Mary of Egypt,” but the angry crowd grabbed his stick and were about to hit him when they were once again confused by his striking resemblance[131] to himself. The pretender then called on them “grab that villain and I’ll show you who the imposter is!” They brought him over to Moran, but instead of fighting him, he gave Moran a few shillings and turned to the crowd, explaining that he was just an actor who had won a bet. He left in a great excitement to enjoy the meal he had earned.

In April 1846, the priest received news that Michael Moran was dying. He found him at 15 Patrick Street, lying on bed in a room filled with street singers who had come to cheer him in his final moments. The funeral took place the following day. Some of his admirers and friends joined the hearse with the coffin, as it was a wet and unpleasant day. Not long into the journey, one of them exclaimed, “It’s terribly cold, isn’t it?” “Indeed,” replied another, “we’ll all be as stiff as the corpse[132] when we reach the cemetery.” “Curse him,” said a third, “I wish he had lasted another month when the weather would have been better.”