Andersen's Fairy Tales Part II Part 11

There's a nightingale in a cage outside, that can sing. She has not been taught much, certainly, but we need not say anything this evening about that.'

"'I think it highly improper,' said the teakettle, who was kitchen singer and half brother to the tea urn, 'that a rich foreign bird should be listened to here. Is it patriotic? Let the market basket decide what is right.'

"'I certainly am vexed,' said the basket, 'inwardly vexed, more than any one can imagine. Are we spending the evening properly? Would it not be more sensible to put the house in order? If each were in his own place, I would lead a game. This would be quite another thing.'

"'Let us act a play,' said they all. At the same moment the door opened and the maid came in. Then not one stirred; they remained quite still, although there was not a single pot among them that had not a high opinion of himself and of what he could do if he chose."'Yes, if we had chosen,' each of them thought, 'we might have spent a very pleasant evening.'

"The maid took the matches and lighted them, and dear me, how they spluttered and blazed up!

"'Now then,' they thought, 'every one will see that we are the first. How we shine! What a light we give!' But even while they spoke their lights went out."

"What a capital story!" said the queen. "I feel as if I were really in the kitchen and could see the matches. Yes, you shall marry our daughter."

"Certainly," said the king, "thou shalt have our daughter."

The king said "thou" to him because he was going to be one of the family. The wedding day was fixed, and on the evening before, the whole city was illuminated. Cakes and sweetmeats were thrown among the people. The street boys stood on tiptoe and shouted "Hurrah," and whistled between their fingers. Altogether it was a very splendid affair.

"I will give them another treat," said the merchant's son. So he went and bought rockets and crackers and every kind of fireworks that could be thought of, packed them in his trunk, and flew up with it into the air. What a whizzing and popping they made as they went off! The Turks, when theysaw the sight, jumped so high that their slippers flew about their ears. It was easy to believe after this that the princess was really going to marry a Turkish angel.

As soon as the merchant's son had come down to the wood after the fireworks, he thought, "I will go back into the town now and hear what they think of the entertainment." It was very natural that he should wish to know. And what strange things people did say, to be sure! Every one whom he questioned had a different tale to tell, though they all thought it very beautiful.

"I saw the Turkish angel myself," said one. "He had eyes like glittering stars and a head like foaming water."

"He flew in a mantle of fire," said another, "and lovely little cherubs peeped out from the folds."

He heard many more fine things about himself and that the next day he was to be married. After this he went back to the forest to rest himself in his trunk. It had disappeared! A spark from the fireworks which remained had set it on fire.

It was burned to ashes. So the merchant's son could not fly any more, nor go to meet his bride. She stood all day on the roof, waiting for him, and most likely she is waiting there still, while he wanders through the world telling fairy tales--but none of them so amusing as the one he related about the matches.

THE b.u.t.tERFLY.

THERE was once a b.u.t.terfly who wished for a bride; and, as may be supposed, he wanted to choose a very pretty one from among the flowers. He glanced with a very critical eye at all the flower beds and found that the flowers were seated quietly and demurely on their stalks, just as maidens should sit. But there was a great number of them, and it appeared as if making his choice would become very wearisome. The b.u.t.terfly did not like to take too much trouble, so he flew off on a visit to the daisies.

The French call this flower Marguerite and say that it can prophesy. Lovers pluck off the leaves, and as they pluck each leaf they ask a question about their sweethearts, thus: "Does he or she love me? Dearly? Distractedly? Very much? A little? Not at all?" and so on. Each one speaks these words in his own language.

The b.u.t.terfly came, also, to Marguerite to inquire, but he did not pluck off her leaves; he pressed a kiss on each of them, for he thought there was always more to be done by kindness."Darling Marguerite daisy," he said to her, "you are the wisest woman of them all. Pray tell me which of the flowers I shall choose for my wife. Which will be my bride? When I know, I will fly directly to her and propose."

But Marguerite did not answer him. She was offended that he should call her a woman when she was only a girl; there is a great difference. He asked her a second time, and then a third, but she remained dumb, answering him not at all.

Then he would wait no longer, but flew away to commence his wooing at once. It was in the early spring, when the crocus and the snowdrop were in full bloom.

"They are very pretty," thought the b.u.t.terfly; "charming little la.s.ses, but they are rather stiff and formal."

Then, as young lads often do, he looked out for the older girls. He next flew to the anemones, but these were rather sour to his taste. The violet was a little too sentimental; the lime blossoms were too small--and, besides, there was such a large family of them. The apple blossoms, though they looked like roses, bloomed to-day, but might fall off to-morrow with the first wind that blew; and he thought a marriage with one of them might last too short a time. The pea blossom pleased him most of all. She was white and red, graceful and slender, and belonged to those domestic maidens who have a pretty appearance, yet can be useful in the kitchen. He was just about to make her an offerwhen, close by her, he saw a pod, with a withered flower hanging at the end.

"Who is that?" he asked.

"That is my sister," replied the pea blossom.

"Oh, indeed! and you will be like her some day," said he.

And at once he flew away, for he felt quite shocked.

A honeysuckle hung forth from the hedge, in full bloom; but there were so many girls like her, with long faces and sallow complexions! No, he did not like her. But which one did he like?

Spring went by, and summer drew toward its close.

Autumn came, but he had not decided. The flowers now appeared in their most gorgeous robes, but all in vain--they had not the fresh, fragrant air of youth. The heart asks for fragrance even when it is no longer young, and there is very little of that to be found in the dahlias or the dry chrysanthemums. Therefore the b.u.t.terfly turned to the mint on the ground. This plant, you know, has no blossom, but is sweetness all over; it is full of fragrance from head to foot, with the scent of a flower in every leaf.

"I will take her," said the b.u.t.terfly; and he made her an offer. But the mint stood silent and stiff as she listened tohim. At last she said: "I can give you friendship if you like, nothing more. I am old, and you are old, but we may live for each other just the same. As to marrying, however, no! that would appear ridiculous at our age."

And so it happened that the b.u.t.terfly got no wife at all. He had been too long choosing, which is always a bad plan, and became what is called an old bachelor.

It was late in the autumn, with rainy and cloudy weather.

The cold wind blew over the bowed backs of the willows, so that they creaked again. It was not the weather for flying about in summer clothes, but fortunately the b.u.t.terfly was not out in it. By a happy chance he had got a shelter. It was in a room heated by a stove and as warm as summer. He could live here, he said, well enough.

"But it is not enough merely to exist," said he. "I need freedom, sunshine, and a little flower for a companion."

So he flew against the window-pane and was seen and admired by those in the room, who caught him and stuck him on a pin in a box of curiosities. They could not do more for him."Now I am perched on a stalk like the flowers," said the b.u.t.terfly. "It is not very pleasant, certainly. I imagine it is something like being married, for here I am stuck fast." And with this thought he consoled himself a little.

"That seems very poor consolation," said one of the plants in the room, that grew in a pot.

"Ah," thought the b.u.t.terfly, "one can't very well trust these plants in pots; they have had too much to do with human beings."

THE GOBLIN AND THE HUCKSTER.

THERE was once a regular student, who lived in a garret and had no possessions. And there was also a regular huckster, to whom the house belonged, and who occupied the ground floor. A goblin lived with the huckster because at Christmas he always had a large dishful of jam, with a great piece of b.u.t.ter in the middle. The huckster could afford this, and therefore the goblin remained with him--which was very shrewd of the goblin.

One evening the student came into the shop through the back door to buy candles and cheese for himself; he had no one to send, and therefore he came himself. Heobtained what he wished, and then the huckster and his wife nodded good evening to him. The huckster's wife was a woman who could do more than merely nod, for she usually had plenty to say for herself. The student nodded also, as he turned to leave, then suddenly stopped and began reading the piece of paper in which the cheese was wrapped. It was a leaf torn out of an old book; a book that ought not to have been torn up, for it was full of poetry.

"Yonder lies some more of the same sort," said the huckster. "I gave an old woman a few coffee berries for it; you shall have the rest for sixpence if you will."

"Indeed I will," said the student. "Give me the book instead of the cheese; I can eat my bread and b.u.t.ter without cheese. It would be a sin to tear up a book like this. You are a clever man and a practical man, but you understand no more about poetry than that cask yonder."

This was a very rude speech, especially against the cask, but the huckster and the student both laughed, for it was only said in fun. The goblin, however, felt very angry that any man should venture to say such things to a huckster who was a householder and sold the best b.u.t.ter. As soon as it was night, the shop closed, and every one in bed except the student, the goblin stepped softly into the bedroom where the huckster's wife slept, and took away her tongue, which of course she did not then want.Whatever object in the room he placed this tongue upon, immediately received voice and speech and was able to express its thoughts and feelings as readily as the lady herself could do. It could only be used by one object at a time, which was a good thing, as a number speaking at once would have caused great confusion. The goblin laid the tongue upon the cask, in which lay a quant.i.ty of old newspapers.

"Is it really true," he asked, "that you do not know what poetry is?"

"Of course I know," replied the cask. "Poetry is something that always stands in the corner of a newspaper and is sometimes cut out. And I may venture to affirm that I have more of it in me than the student has, even if I am only a poor tub of the huckster's."

Then the goblin placed the tongue on the coffee mill, and how it did go, to be sure! Then he put it on the b.u.t.ter-tub, and the cash-box, and they all expressed the same opinion as the waste-paper tub. A majority must always be respected.

"Now I shall go and tell the student," said the goblin. With these words he went quietly up the back stairs to the garret, where the student lived. The student's candle was burning still, and the goblin peeped through the keyholeand saw that he was reading in the torn book which he had bought out of the shop. But how light the room was! From the book shot forth a ray of light which grew broad and full like the stem of a tree, from which bright rays spread upward and over the student's head. Each leaf was fresh, and each flower was like a beautiful female head--some with dark and sparkling eyes and others with eyes that were wonderfully blue and clear. The fruit gleamed like stars, and the room was filled with sounds of beautiful music. The little goblin had never imagined, much less seen or heard of, any sight so glorious as this. He stood still on tiptoe, peeping in, till the light went out. The student no doubt had blown out his candle and gone to bed, but the little goblin remained standing there, listening to the music which still sounded, soft and beautiful--a sweet cradle song for the student who had lain down to rest.

"This is a wonderful place," said the goblin; "I never expected such a thing. I should like to stay here with the student." Then the little man thought it over, for he was a sensible sprite. At last he sighed, "But the student has no jam!" So he went downstairs again to the huckster's shop, and it was a good thing he got back when he did, for the cask had almost worn out the lady's tongue. He had given a description of all that he contained on one side, and was just about to turn himself over to the other side to describe what was there, when the goblin entered and restored the tongue to the lady. From that time forward, the whole shop,from the cash-box down to the pine-wood logs, formed their opinions from that of the cask. They all had such confidence in him and treated him with so much respect that when, in the evening, the huckster read the criticisms on theatricals and art, they fancied it must all come from the cask.

After what he had seen, the goblin could no longer sit and listen quietly to the wisdom and understanding downstairs.

As soon as the evening light glimmered in the garret, he took courage, for it seemed to him that the rays of light were strong cables, drawing him up and obliging him to go and peep through the keyhole. While there, a feeling of vastness came over him, such as we experience by the ever-moving sea when the storm breaks forth, and it brought tears into his eyes. He did not himself know why he wept, yet a kind of pleasant feeling mingled with his tears. "How wonderfully glorious it would be to sit with the student under such a tree!" But that was out of the question; he must be content to look through the keyhole and be thankful for even that.

There he stood on the cold landing, with the autumn wind blowing down upon him through the trapdoor. It was very cold, but the little creature did not really feel it till the light in the garret went out and the tones of music died away.

Then how he shivered and crept downstairs again to his warm corner, where he felt at home and comfortable! Andwhen Christmas came again and brought the dish of jam and the great lump of b.u.t.ter, he liked the huckster best of all.

Soon after, the goblin was waked in the middle of the night by a terrible noise and knocking against the window shutters and the house doors and by the sound of the watchman's horn. A great fire had broken out, and the whole street seemed full of flames. Was it in their house or a neighbor's? No one could tell, for terror had seized upon all. The huckster's wife was so bewildered that she took her gold earrings out of her ears and put them in her pocket, that she might save something at least. The huckster ran to get his business papers, and the servant resolved to save her black silk mantle, which she had managed to buy. All wished to keep the best things they had. The goblin had the same wish, for with one spring he was upstairs in the student's room. He found him standing by the open window and looking quite calmly at the fire, which was raging in the house of a neighbor opposite.

The goblin caught up the wonderful book, which lay on the table, and popped it into his red cap, which he held tightly with both hands. The greatest treasure in the house was saved, and he ran away with it to the roof and seated himself on the chimney. The flames of the burning house opposite illuminated him as he sat with both hands pressed tightly over his cap, in which the treasure lay. It was thenthat he understood what feelings were really strongest in his heart and knew exactly which way they tended. Yet, when the fire was extinguished and the goblin again began to reflect, he hesitated, and said at last, "I must divide myself between the two; I cannot quite give up the huckster, because of the jam."

This is a representation of human nature. We are like the goblin; we all go to visit the huckster, "because of the jam."

EVERYTHING IN ITS RIGHT PLACE.

MORE than a hundred years ago, behind the wood and by a deep lake, stood an old baronial mansion. Round it lay a deep moat, in which grew reeds and rushes, and close by the bridge, near the entrance gate, stood an old willow that bent itself over the moat.

From a narrow lane one day sounded the clang of horns and the trampling of horses. The little girl who kept the geese hastened to drive them away from the bridge before the hunting party came galloping up to it. They came, however, with such haste that the girl was obliged to climb up and seat herself on the parapet of the bridge, lest they should ride over her. She was scarcely more than a child, with a pretty, delicate figure, a gentle expression of face,and two bright blue eyes--all of which the baron took no note of; but as he galloped past, he reversed the whip held in his hand, and in rough play gave the little goose-watcher such a push with the b.u.t.t end that she fell backward into the ditch.

"Everything in its right place," cried he. "Into the puddle with you!" and then he laughed aloud at what he called his own wit, and the rest joined with him. The whole party shouted and screamed, and the dogs barked loudly.

Fortunately for herself, the poor girl in falling caught hold of one of the overhanging branches of the willow tree, by which she was able to keep herself from falling into the muddy pool. As soon as the baron, with his company and his dogs, had disappeared through the castle gate, she tried to raise herself by her own exertions; but the bough broke off at the top, and she would have fallen backwards among the reeds if a strong hand had not at that moment seized her from above. It was the hand of a peddler, who, at a short distance, had witnessed the whole affair and hastened up to give a.s.sistance.

"Everything in its right place," he said, imitating the n.o.ble baron, as he drew the little maiden up on dry ground. He would have restored the bough to the place from which it had been broken off, but "everything in its right place" is not always so easy to arrange, so he stuck the bough inthe soft earth. "Grow and prosper as much as you can,"

said he, "till you produce a good flute for some of them over there. With the permission of the n.o.ble baron and his family, I should like them to hear my challenge."

So he betook himself to the castle, but not into the n.o.ble hall; he was too humble for that. He went to the servants'

apartments, and the men and maids examined and turned over his stock of goods, while from above, where the company were at table, came sounds of screaming and shouting which they called singing--and indeed they did their best. Loud laughter, mingled with the howling of dogs, sounded through the open windows. All were feasting and carousing. Wine and strong ale foamed in the jugs and gla.s.ses; even the dogs ate and drank with their masters.

The peddler was sent for, but only to make fun for them.

The wine had mounted to their heads, and the sense had flown out. They poured wine into a stocking for him to drink with them--quickly, of course--and this was considered a rare jest and occasioned fresh bursts of laughter. At cards, whole farms, with their stock of peasants and cattle, were staked on a card and lost.

"Everything in its right place," said the peddler, when he at last escaped from what he called the Sodom and Gomorrah up there. "The open highroad is my right place; that house did not suit me at all." As he stepped along, he saw the little maiden keeping watch over the geese, andshe nodded to him in a friendly way.

Days and weeks pa.s.sed, and it soon became evident that the willow branch which had been stuck in the ground by the peddler, near to the castle moat, had taken root, for it remained fresh and green and put forth new twigs.

The little girl saw that the branch must have taken root, and she was quite joyful about it. "This tree," she said, "must be my tree now."

The tree certainly flourished, but at the castle, what with feasting and gambling, everything went to ruin; for these two things are like rollers, upon which no man can possibly stand securely. Six years had not pa.s.sed away before the n.o.ble baron wandered out of the castle gate a poor man, and the mansion was bought by a rich dealer. This dealer was no other than the man of whom he had made fun and for whom he had poured wine into a stocking to drink. But honesty and industry are like favorable winds to a ship, and they had brought the peddler to be master of the baron's estates. From that hour no more card playing was permitted there.

The new proprietor took to himself a wife, and who should it be but the little goose-watcher, who had always remained faithful and good, and who looked as beautiful and fine in her new clothes as if she had been a highly born lady. Itwould be too long a story in these busy times to explain how all this came about, but it really did happen, and the most important part is to come.

It was pleasant to live in the old court now. The mistress herself managed the housekeeping within, and the master superintended the estate. Their home overflowed with blessings, for where rect.i.tude leads the way, prosperity is sure to follow. The old house was cleaned and painted, the moat dried up, and fruit trees planted in it. The floors of the house were polished as smoothly as a draftboard, and everything looked bright and cheerful.

During the long winter evenings the lady of the house sat with her maidens at the spinning wheel in the great hall.

Her husband, in his old age, had been made a magistrate.

Every Sunday evening he read the Bible with his family, for children had come to him and were all instructed in the best manner, although they were not all equally clever--as is the case in all families. In the meantime, the willow branch at the castle gate had grown into a splendid tree and stood free and unrestrained.

"That is our genealogical tree," said the old people, "and the tree must therefore be honored and esteemed, even by those who are not very wise."A hundred years pa.s.sed away, and the place presented a much-changed aspect. The lake had been converted into moorland, and the old baronial castle had almost disappeared. A pool of water, the deep moat, and the ruins of some of the walls were all that remained. Close by grew a magnificent willow tree, with overhanging branches--the same genealogical tree of former times. Here it still stood, showing to what beauty a willow can attain when left to itself. To be sure, the trunk was split through, from the root to the top, and the storm had slightly bent it; but it stood firm through all, and from every crevice and opening into which earth had been carried by the wind, shot forth blossoms and flowers. Near the top, where the large boughs parted, the wild raspberry twined its branches and looked like a hanging garden. Even the little mistletoe had here struck root, and flourished, graceful and delicate, among the branches of the willow, which were reflected in the dark waters beneath it. Sometimes the wind from the sea scattered the willow leaves. A path led through the field, close by the tree.

On the top of a hill, near the forest, with a splendid prospect before it, stood the new baronial hall, with panes of such transparent gla.s.s in the windows that there appeared to be none. The grand flight of steps leading to the entrance looked like a bower of roses and broad-leaved plants. The lawn was as fresh and green as if each separate blade of gra.s.s were cleaned morning andevening. In the hall hung costly pictures. The chairs and sofas were of silk and velvet and looked almost as if they could move of themselves. There were tables with white marble tops, and books bound in velvet and gold. Here, indeed, resided wealthy people, people of rank--the new baron and his family.

Each article was made to harmonize with the other furnishings. The family motto still was, "Everything in its right place." Therefore the pictures which were once the honor and glory of the old house now hung in the pa.s.sage leading to the servants' hall. They were considered mere lumber; especially two old portraits, one of a man in a wig and a rose-colored coat, the other of a lady with frizzed and powdered hair, holding a rose in her hand, each surrounded by a wreath of willow leaves. Both the pictures had many holes in them, for the little barons always set up the two old people as targets for their bows and arrows; and yet these were pictures of the magistrate and his lady, from whom the present family were descended. "But they did not properly belong to our family," said one of the little barons; "he was a peddler, and she kept the geese. They were not like papa and mamma." So the pictures, being old, were considered worthless; and the motto being "Each in its right place," the great-grandfather and the great-grandmother of the family were sent into the pa.s.sage leading to the servants' hall.The son of the clergyman of the place was tutor at the great house. One day he was out walking with his pupils--the little barons--and their eldest sister, who had just been confirmed. They took the path through the fields, which led past the old willow tree. While they walked, the young lady made a wreath of hedge blossoms and wild flowers, "each in its right place," and the wreath was, as a whole, very pretty. At the same time she heard every word uttered by the son of the clergyman. She liked very much to hear him talk of the wonders of nature and of the great men and women of history. She had a healthy mind, with n.o.bility of thought and feeling, and a heart full of love for all G.o.d's creation.

The walking party halted at the old willow tree; the youngest of the barons wanted a branch from it to make a flute, as he had already made them from other willows. The tutor broke off a branch. "Oh, don't do that," exclaimed the young baroness; but it was already done. "I am so sorry,"

she continued; "that is our famous old tree, and I love it very much. They laugh at me for it at home, but I don't mind. There is a story told about that tree."

Then she told him what we already know: about the old castle, and about the peddler and the girl with the geese, who had met at this spot for the first time and were the ancestors of the n.o.ble family to which the young baroness belonged. "The good old folks would not be enn.o.bled,"said she. "Their motto was 'Everything in its right place,'

and they thought it would not be right for them to purchase a t.i.tle with money. My grandfather, the first baron, was their son. He was a very learned man, known and appreciated by princes and princesses, and was present at all the festivals at court. At home, they all love him best, but I scarcely know why. There seems to me something in the first old pair that draws my heart towards them. How sociable, how patriarchal, it must have been in the old house, where the mistress sat at the spinning wheel with her maids while her husband read aloud to them from the Bible!"

"They must have been charming, sensible people," said the tutor, and then the conversation turned upon n.o.bles and commoners. It was almost as if the tutor did not belong to an inferior cla.s.s, he spoke so wisely upon the purpose and intention of n.o.bility.

"It is certainly good fortune to belong to a family that has distinguished itself in the world, and to inherit the energy which spurs us on to progress in everything n.o.ble and useful. It is pleasant to bear a family name that is like a card of admission to the highest circles. True n.o.bility is always great and honorable. It is a coin which has received the impression of its own value. It is a mistake of the present day, into which many poets have fallen, to affirm that all who are n.o.ble by birth must therefore be wicked orfoolish, and that the lower we descend in society the oftener we find great and shining characters. I feel that this is quite false. In all cla.s.ses can be found men and women possessing kindly and beautiful traits.

"My mother told me of one, and I could tell you of many more. She was once on a visit to a n.o.bleman's house in the town; my grandmother, I believe, had been brought up in the family. One day, when my mother and the n.o.bleman happened to be alone, an old woman came limping into the court on crutches. She was accustomed to come every Sunday and always carried away a gift with her. 'Ah, there is the poor old woman,' said the n.o.bleman; 'what pain it is for her to walk!' And before my mother understood what he said, he had left the room and run downstairs to the old woman. Though seventy years old himself, the old n.o.bleman carried to the woman the gift she had come to receive, to spare her the pain of walking any farther. This is only a trifling circ.u.mstance, but, like the two mites given by the widow in the Bible, it wakes an echo in the heart.

"These are subjects of which poets should write and sing, for they soften and unite mankind into one brotherhood.

But when a mere sprig of humanity, because it has n.o.ble ancestors of good blood, rears up and prances like an Arabian horse in the street or speaks contemptuously of common people, then it is n.o.bility in danger of decay--a mere pretense, like the mask which Thespis invented.People are glad to see such persons turned into objects of satire."