A SHORT STORY
VOLUME ONE
BY
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
1
CONTENTS
THE LITTLE MERMAID
THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES
THE OLD BACHELOR’S NIGHTCAP
THE GARDEN OF PARADISE
THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE
2
THE LITTLE MERMAID
PLACE
ADVERT
glittering
pearl,
which
would
be
fit
Far out in the ocean, where the water
is as blue as the prettiest cornflower,
and as clear as crystal, it is very, very
deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable
could fathom it: many church
steeples, piled one upon another,
would not reach from the ground
beneath to the surface of the water
above. There dwell the Sea King and
his subjects. We must not imagine
that there is nothing at the bottom of
the sea but bare yellow sand. No,
indeed; the most singular flowers and
plants grow there; the leaves and
stems of which are so pliant, that the
slightest agitation of the water causes
them to stir as if they had life. Fishes,
both large and small, glide between
the branches, as birds fly among the
trees here upon land. In the deepest
spot of all, stands the castle of the Sea
King. Its walls are built of coral, and
the long, gothic windows are of the
clearest amber. The roof is formed of
shells that open and close as the water
flows over them. Their appearance is
very beautiful, for in each lies a
for the diadem of a queen.
The Sea King had been a widower for many years, and his aged mother kept house for
him. She was a very wise woman, and exceedingly proud of her high birth; on that
account she wore twelve oysters on her tail; while others, also of high rank, were only
allowed to wear six. She was however, deserving of very great praise, especially for
her care of the little sea-princesses, her grand-daughters. They were six beautiful
children; but the youngest was the prettiest of them all; her skin was as clear and
delicate as a rose-leaf, and her eyes as blue as the deepest sea; but, like all the others,
she had no feet, and her body ended in a fish's tail. All day long they played in the
great halls of the castle, or among the living flowers that grew out of the walls. The
large amber windows were open, and the fish swam in, just as the swallows fly into our
houses when we open the windows, excepting that the fishes swam up to the
princesses, ate out of their hands, and allowed themselves to be stroked. Outside the
castle there was a beautiful garden, in which grew bright red and dark blue flowers,
3
and blossoms like flames of fire; the
fruit glittered like gold, and the leaves
and stems waved to and fro
continually. The earth itself was the
finest sand, but blue as the flame of
burning sulphur. Over everything lay
a peculiar blue radiance, as if it were
surrounded by the air from above,
through which the blue sky shone,
instead of the dark depths of the sea.
In calm weather the sun could be
seen, looking like a purple flower,
with the light streaming from the
calyx. Each of the young princesses
had a little plot of ground in the
garden, where she might dig and plant
as she pleased. One arranged her
flower-bed into the form of a whale;
another thought it better to make hers
like the figure of a little mermaid; but
that of the youngest was round like
the sun, and contained flowers as red
as his rays at sunset. She was a
strange child, quiet and thoughtful;
and while her sisters would be
delighted with the wonderful things
which they obtained from the wrecks
of vessels, she cared for nothing but her pretty red flowers, like the sun, excepting a
beautiful marble statue. It was the representation of a handsome boy, carved out of
pure white stone, which had fallen to the bottom of the sea from a wreck. She planted
by the statue a rose-colored weeping willow. It grew splendidly and very soon hung its
fresh branches over the statue, almost down to the blue sands. The shadow had a violet
tint, and waved to and fro like the branches; it seemed as if the crown of the tree and
the root were at play, and trying to kiss each other. Nothing gave her so much pleasure
as to hear about the world above the sea. She made her old grandmother tell her all she
knew of the ships and of the towns, the people and the animals. To her it seemed most
wonderful and beautiful to hear that the flowers of the land should have fragrance, and
not those below the sea; that the trees of the forest should be green; and that the fishes
among the trees could sing so sweetly, that it was quite a pleasure to hear them. Her
grandmother called the little birds fishes, or she would not have understood her; for she
had
never
seen
birds.
PLACE
ADVERT
"When you have reached your fifteenth year," said the grand-mother, "you will have
permission to rise up out of the sea, to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, while the great
ships are sailing by; and then you will see both forests and towns."
In the following year, one of the sisters would be fifteen: but as each was a year
younger than the other, the youngest would have to wait five years before her turn
came to rise up from the bottom of the ocean, and see the earth as we do. However,
each promised to tell the others what she saw on her first visit, and what she thought
4
PLACE
ADVERT
the most beautiful; for their
grandmother could not tell them
enough; there were so many things on
which they wanted information. None
of them longed so much for her turn
to come as the youngest, she who had
the longest time to wait, and who was
so quiet and thoughtful. Many nights
she stood by the open window,
looking up through the dark blue
water, and watching the fish as they
splashed about with their fins and
tails. She could see the moon and
stars shining faintly; but through the
water they looked larger than they do
to our eyes. When something like a
black cloud passed between her and
them, she knew that it was either a
whale swimming over her head, or a
ship full of human beings, who never
imagined that a pretty little mermaid
was standing beneath them, holding
out her white hands towards the keel
of
their
ship.
As soon as the eldest was fifteen, she
was allowed to rise to the surface of
the ocean. When she came back, she had hundreds of things to talk about; but the most
beautiful, she said, was to lie in the moonlight, on a sandbank, in the quiet sea, near the
coast, and to gaze on a large town nearby, where the lights were twinkling like
hundreds of stars; to listen to the sounds of the music, the noise of carriages, and the
voices of human beings, and then to hear the merry bells peal out from the church
steeples; and because she could not go near to all those wonderful things, she longed
for them more than ever. Oh, did not the youngest sister listen eagerly to all these
descriptions? and afterwards, when she stood at the open window looking up through
the dark blue water, she thought of the great city, with all its bustle and noise, and even
fancied she could hear the sound of the church bells, down in the depths of the sea.
In another year the second sister received permission to rise to the surface of the water,
and to swim about where she pleased. She rose just as the sun was setting, and this, she
said, was the most beautiful sight of all. The whole sky looked like gold, while violet
and rose-colored clouds, which she could not describe, floated over her; and, still more
rapidly than the clouds, flew a large flock of wild swans towards the setting sun,
looking like a long white veil across the sea. She also swam towards the sun; but it
sunk into the waves, and the rosy tints faded from the clouds and from the sea.
The third sister's turn followed; she was the boldest of them all, and she swam up a
broad river that emptied itself into the sea. On the banks she saw green hills covered
with beautiful vines; palaces and castles peeped out from amid the proud trees of the
forest; she heard the birds singing, and the rays of the sun were so powerful that she
5
PLACE
ADVERT
was obliged often to dive down under
the water to cool her burning face. In
a narrow creek she found a whole
troop of little human children, quite
naked, and sporting about in the
water; she wanted to play with them,
but they fled in a great fright; and
then a little black animal came to the
water; it was a dog, but she did not
know that, for she had never before
seen one. This animal barked at her
so terribly that she became
frightened, and rushed back to the
open sea. But she said she should
never forget the beautiful forest, the
green hills, and the pretty little
children who could swim in the
water, although they had not fish's
tails.
The fourth sister was more timid; she
remained in the midst of the sea, but
she said it was quite as beautiful there
as nearer the land. She could see for
so many miles around her, and the
sky above looked like a bell of glass.
She had seen the ships, but at such a
great distance that they looked like sea-gulls. The dolphins sported in the waves, and
the great whales spouted water from their nostrils till it seemed as if a hundred
fountains
were
playing
in
every
direction.
The fifth sister's birthday occurred in the winter; so when her turn came, she saw what
the others had not seen the first time they went up. The sea looked quite green, and
large icebergs were floating about, each like a pearl, she said, but larger and loftier
than the churches built by men. They were of the most singular shapes, and glittered
like diamonds. She had seated herself upon one of the largest, and let the wind play
with her long hair, and she remarked that all the ships sailed by rapidly, and steered as
far away as they could from the iceberg, as if they were afraid of it. Towards evening,
as the sun went down, dark clouds covered the sky, the thunder rolled and the lightning
flashed, and the red light glowed on the icebergs as they rocked and tossed on the
heaving sea. On all the ships the sails were reefed with fear and trembling, while she
sat calmly on the floating iceberg, watching the blue lightning, as it darted its forked
flashes
into
the
sea.
When first the sisters had permission to rise to the surface, they were each delighted
with the new and beautiful sights they saw; but now, as grown-up girls, they could go
when they pleased, and they had become indifferent about it. They wished themselves
back again in the water, and after a month had passed they said it was much more
beautiful down below, and pleasanter to be at home. Yet often, in the evening hours,
the five sisters would twine their arms round each other, and rise to the surface, in a
6
row. They had more beautiful voices than any human being could have; and before the
approach of a storm, and when they expected a ship would be lost, they swam before
the vessel, and sang sweetly of the delights to be found in the depths of the sea, and
begging the sailors not to fear if they sank to the bottom. But the sailors could not
understand the song; they took it for the howling of the storm. And these things were
never to be beautiful for them; for if the ship sank, the men were drowned, and their
dead bodies alone reached the palace of the Sea King.
When the sisters rose, arm-in-arm, through the water in this way, their youngest sister
would stand quite alone, looking after them, ready to cry, only that the mermaids have
no tears, and therefore they suffer more. "Oh, were I but fifteen years old," said she: "I
know that I shall love the world up
there, and all the people who live in
it."
PLACE
ADVERT
At last she reached her fifteenth year.
"Well, now, you are grown up," said
the old dowager, her grandmother;
"so you must let me adorn you like
your other sisters;" and she placed a
wreath of white lilies in her hair, and
every flower leaf was half a pearl.
Then the old lady ordered eight great
oysters to attach themselves to the tail
of the princess to show her high rank.
"But they hurt me so," said the little
mermaid.
"Pride must suffer pain," replied the
old lady. Oh, how gladly she would
have shaken off all this grandeur, and
laid aside the heavy wreath! The red
flowers in her own garden would
have suited her much better, but she
could not help herself: so she said,
"Farewell," and rose as lightly as a
bubble to the surface of the water.
The sun had just set as she raised her
head above the waves; but the clouds were tinted with crimson and gold, and through
the glimmering twilight beamed the evening star in all its beauty. The sea was calm,
and the air mild and fresh. A large ship, with three masts, lay becalmed on the water,
with only one sail set; for not a breeze stiffed, and the sailors sat idle on deck or
amongst the rigging. There was music and song on board; and, as darkness came on, a
hundred colored lanterns were lighted, as if the flags of all nations waved in the air.
The little mermaid swam close to the cabin windows; and now and then, as the waves
lifted her up, she could look in through clear glass window-panes, and see a number of
well-dressed people within. Among them was a young prince, the most beautiful of all,
with large black eyes; he was sixteen years of age, and his birthday was being kept
with much rejoicing. The sailors were dancing on deck, but when the prince came out
7
of the cabin, more than a hundred rockets rose in the air, making it as bright as day.
The little mermaid was so startled that she dived under water; and when she again
stretched out her head, it appeared as if all the stars of heaven were falling around her,
she had never seen such fireworks before. Great suns spurted fire about, splendid
fireflies flew into the blue air, and everything was reflected in the clear, calm sea
beneath. The ship itself was so brightly illuminated that all the people, and even the
smallest rope, could be distinctly and plainly seen. And how handsome the young
prince looked, as he pressed the hands of all present and smiled at them, while the
music
resounded
through
the
clear
night
air.
It was very late; yet the little mermaid could not take her eyes from the ship, or from
the beautiful prince. The colored lanterns had been extinguished, no more rockets rose
in the air, and the cannon had ceased
firing; but the sea became restless,
and a moaning, grumbling sound
could be heard beneath the waves:
still the little mermaid remained by
the cabin window, rocking up and
down on the water, which enabled
her to look in. After a while, the sails
were quickly unfurled, and the noble
ship continued her passage; but soon
the waves rose higher, heavy clouds
darkened the sky, and lightning
appeared in the distance. A dreadful
storm was approaching; once more
the sails were reefed, and the great
ship pursued her flying course over
the raging sea. The waves rose
mountains high, as if they would
have overtopped the mast; but the
ship dived like a swan between them,
and then rose again on their lofty,
foaming crests. To the little mermaid
this appeared pleasant sport; not so to
the sailors. At length the ship groaned
and creaked; the thick planks gave
way under the lashing of the sea as it
broke over the deck; the mainmast
snapped asunder like a reed; the ship lay over on her side; and the water rushed in. The
little mermaid now perceived that the crew were in danger; even she herself was
obliged to be careful to avoid the beams and planks of the wreck which lay scattered
on the water. At one moment it was so pitch dark that she could not see a single object,
but a flash of lightning revealed the whole scene; she could see everyone who had been
on board excepting the prince; when the ship parted, she had seen him sink into the
deep waves, and she was glad, for she thought he would now be with her; and then she
remembered that human beings could not live in the water, so that when he got down
to her father's palace he would be quite dead. But he must not die. So she swam about
among the beams and planks which strewed the surface of the sea, forgetting that they
could crush her to pieces. Then she dived deeply under the dark waters, rising and
PLACE
ADVERT
8
falling with the waves, till at length she managed to reach the young prince, who was
fast losing the power of swimming in that stormy sea. His limbs were failing him, his
beautiful eyes were closed, and he would have died had not the little mermaid come to
his assistance. She held his head above the water, and let the waves drift them where
they
would.
In the morning the storm had ceased; but of the ship not a single fragment could be
seen. The sun rose up red and glowing from the water, and its beams brought back the
hue of health to the prince's cheeks; but his eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed
his high, smooth forehead, and stroked back his wet hair; he seemed to her like the
marble statue in her little garden, and she kissed him again, and wished that he might
live. Presently they came in sight of land; she saw lofty blue mountains, on which the
white snow rested as if a flock of
swans were lying upon them. Near
the coast were beautiful green forests,
and close by stood a large building,
whether a church or a convent she
could not tell. Orange and citron trees
grew in the garden, and before the
door stood lofty palms. The sea here
formed a little bay, in which the
water was quite still, but very deep;
so she swam with the handsome
prince to the beach, which was
covered with fine, white sand, and
there she laid him in the warm
sunshine, taking care to raise his head
higher than his body. Then bells
sounded in the large white building,
and a number of young girls came
into the garden. The little mermaid
swam out farther from the shore and
placed herself between some high
rocks that rose out of the water; then
she covered her head and neck with
the foam of the sea so that her little
face might not be seen, and watched
to see what would become of the
poor prince. She did not wait long
before she saw a young girl approach
the spot where he lay. She seemed frightened at first, but only for a moment; then she
fetched a number of people, and the mermaid saw that the prince came to life again,
and smiled upon those who stood round him. But to her he sent no smile; he knew not
that she had saved him. This made her very unhappy, and when he was led away into
the great building, she dived down sorrowfully into the water, and returned to her
father's castle. She had always been silent and thoughtful, and now she was more so
than ever. Her sisters asked her what she had seen during her first visit to the surface of
the water; but she would tell them nothing. Many an evening and morning did she rise
to the place where she had left the prince. She saw the fruits in the garden ripen till
they were gathered, the snow on the tops of the mountains melt away; but she never
PLACE
ADVERT
9
saw the prince, and therefore she returned home, always more sorrowful than before. It
was her only comfort to sit in her own little garden, and fling her arm round the
beautiful marble statue which was like the prince; but she gave up tending her flowers,
and they grew in wild confusion over the paths, twining their long leaves and stems
round the branches of the trees, so that the whole place became dark and gloomy. At
length she could bear it no longer, and told one of her sisters all about it. Then the
others heard the secret, and very soon it became known to two mermaids whose
intimate friend happened to know who the prince was. She had also seen the festival on
board ship, and she told them where the prince came from, and where his palace stood.
"Come, little sister," said the other princesses; then they entwined their arms and rose
up in a long row to the surface of the water, close by the spot where they knew the
prince's palace stood. It was built of
bright yellow shining stone, with long
flights of marble steps, one of which
reached quite down to the sea.
Splendid gilded cupolas rose over the
roof, and between the pillars that
surrounded the whole building stood
life-like statues of marble. Through
the clear crystal of the lofty windows
could be seen noble rooms, with
costly silk curtains and hangings of
tapestry; while the walls were
covered with beautiful paintings
which were a pleasure to look at. In
the centre of the largest saloon a
fountain threw its sparkling jets high
up into the glass cupola of the ceiling,
through which the sun shone down
upon the water and upon the beautiful
plants growing round the basin of the
fountain. Now that she knew where
he lived, she spent many an evening
and many a night on the water near
the palace. She would swim much
nearer the shore than any of the
others ventured to do; indeed once
she went quite up the narrow channel
under the marble balcony, which threw a broad shadow on the water. Here she would
sit and watch the young prince, who thought himself quite alone in the bright
moonlight. She saw him many times of an evening sailing in a pleasant boat, with
music playing and flags waving. She peeped out from among the green rushes, and if
the wind caught her long silvery-white veil, those who saw it believed it to be a swan,
spreading out its wings. On many a night, too, when the fishermen, with their torches,
were out at sea, she heard them relate so many good things about the doings of the
young prince, that she was glad she had saved his life when he had been tossed about
half-dead on the waves. And she remembered that his head had rested on her bosom,
and how heartily she had kissed him; but he knew nothing of all this, and could not
even dream of her. She grew more and more fond of human beings, and wished more
PLACE
ADVERT
10
and more to be able to wander about with those whose world seemed to be so much
larger than her own. They could fly over the sea in ships, and mount the high hills
which were far above the clouds; and the lands they possessed, their woods and their
fields, stretched far away beyond the reach of her sight. There was so much that she
wished to know, and her sisters were unable to answer all her questions. Then she
applied to her old grandmother, who knew all about the upper world, which she very
rightly
called
the
lands
above
the
sea.
"If human beings are not drowned," asked the little mermaid, "can they live forever?
do
they
never
die
as
we
do
here
in
the
sea?"
"Yes," replied the old lady, "they must also die, and their term of life is even shorter
than ours. We sometimes live to three
hundred years, but when we cease to
exist here we only become the foam
on the surface of the water, and we
have not even a grave down here of
those we love. We have not immortal
souls, we shall never live again; but,
like the green sea-weed, when once it
has been cut off, we can never
flourish more. Human beings, on the
contrary, have a soul which lives
forever, lives after the body has been
turned to dust. It rises up through the
clear, pure air beyond the glittering
stars. As we rise out of the water, and
behold all the land of the earth, so do
they rise to unknown and glorious
regions which we shall never see."
PLACE
ADVERT
"Why have not we an immortal
soul?" asked the little mermaid
mournfully; "I would give gladly all
the hundreds of years that I have to
live, to be a human being only for
one day, and to have the hope of
knowing the happiness of that
glorious world above the stars."
"You must not think of that," said the old woman; "we feel ourselves to be much
happier
and
much
better
off
than
human
beings."
"So I shall die," said the little mermaid, "and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven
about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the
red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?"
"No," said the old woman, "unless a man were to love you so much that you were more
to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon
you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you
11
here and hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a
share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his
own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish's tail, which amongst us is
considered so beautiful, is thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any
better, and they think it necessary to have two stout props, which they call legs, in
order
to
be
handsome."
Then the little mermaid sighed, and looked sorrowfully at her fish's tail. "Let us be
happy," said the old lady, "and dart and spring about during the three hundred years
that we have to live, which is really quite long enough; after that we can rest ourselves
all the better. This evening we are going to have a court ball."
It is one of those splendid sights
which we can never see on earth.
The walls and the ceiling of the large
ball-room were of thick, but
transparent crystal. May hundreds of
colossal shells, some of a deep red,
others of a grass green, stood on
each side in rows, with blue fire in
them, which lighted up the whole
saloon, and shone through the walls,
so that the sea was also illuminated.
Innumerable fishes, great and small,
swam past the crystal walls; on some
of them the scales glowed with a
purple brilliancy, and on others they
shone like silver and gold. Through
the halls flowed a broad stream, and
in it danced the mermen and the
mermaids to the music of their own
sweet singing. No one on earth has
such a lovely voice as theirs. The
little mermaid sang more sweetly
than them all. The whole court
applauded her with hands and tails;
and for a moment her heart felt quite
gay, for she knew she had the
loveliest voice of any on earth or in
the sea. But she soon thought again
of the world above her, for she could not forget the charming prince, nor her sorrow
that she had not an immortal soul like his; therefore she crept away silently out of her
father's palace, and while everything within was gladness and song, she sat in her own
little garden sorrowful and alone. Then she heard the bugle sounding through the
water, and thought—"He is certainly sailing above, he on whom my wishes depend,
and in whose hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will venture all for
him, and to win an immortal soul, while my sisters are dancing in my father's palace, I
will go to the sea witch, of whom I have always been so much afraid, but she can give
me
counsel
and
help."
And then the little mermaid went out from her garden, and took the road to the
PLACE
ADVERT
12
foaming whirlpools, behind which the sorceress lived. She had never been that way
before: neither flowers nor grass grew there; nothing but bare, gray, sandy ground
stretched out to the whirlpool, where the water, like foaming mill-wheels, whirled
round everything that it seized, and cast it into the fathomless deep. Through the midst
of these crushing whirlpools the little mermaid was obliged to pass, to reach the
dominions of the sea witch; and also for a long distance the only road lay right across a
quantity of warm, bubbling mire, called by the witch her turf moor. Beyond this stood
her house, in the centre of a strange forest, in which all the trees and flowers were
polypi, half animals and half plants; they looked like serpents with a hundred heads
growing out of the ground. The
branches were long slimy arms, with
fingers like flexible worms, moving
limb after limb from the root to the
top. All that could be reached in the
sea they seized upon, and held fast, so
that it never escaped from their
clutches. The little mermaid was so
alarmed at what she saw, that she
stood still, and her heart beat with
fear, and she was very nearly turning
back; but she thought of the prince,
and of the human soul for which she
longed, and her courage returned. She
fastened her long flowing hair round
her head, so that the polypi might not
seize hold of it. She laid her hands
together across her bosom, and then
she darted forward as a fish shoots
through the water, between the supple
arms and fingers of the ugly polypi,
which were stretched out on each side
of her. She saw that each held in its
grasp something it had seized with its
numerous little arms, as if they were
iron bands. The white skeletons of
human beings who had perished at
sea, and had sunk down into the deep
waters, skeletons of land animals, oars, rudders, and chests of ships were lying tightly
grasped by their clinging arms; even a little mermaid, whom they had caught and
strangled; and this seemed the most shocking of all to the little princess.
PLACE
ADVERT
She now came to a space of marshy ground in the wood, where large, fat water-snakes
were rolling in the mire, and showing their ugly, drab-colored bodies. In the midst of
this spot stood a house, built with the bones of shipwrecked human beings. There sat
the sea witch, allowing a toad to eat from her mouth, just as people sometimes feed a
canary with a piece of sugar. She called the ugly water-snakes her little chickens, and
allowed
them
to
crawl
all
over
her
bosom.
"I know what you want," said the sea witch; "it is very stupid of you, but you shall
have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. You want to get rid
13
of your fish's tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like human beings on earth, so
that the young prince may fall in love with you, and that you may have an immortal
soul." And then the witch laughed so loud and disgustingly, that the toad and the
snakes fell to the ground, and lay there wriggling about. "You are but just in time,"
said the witch; "for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end
of another year. I will prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim to land
tomorrow before sunrise, and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then
disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as
if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the
prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating
gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step
you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must
flow.
If
you
will
bear
all
this,
I
will
help
you."
"Yes, I will," said the little princess in a trembling voice, as she thought of the prince
and
the
immortal
soul.
PLACE
ADVERT
"But think again," said the witch; "for
when once your shape has become
like a human being, you can no more
be a mermaid. You will never return
through the water to your sisters, or to
your father's palace again; and if you
do not win the love of the prince, so
that he is willing to forget his father
and mother for your sake, and to love
you with his whole soul, and allow
the priest to join your hands that you
may be man and wife, then you will
never have an immortal soul. The first
morning after he marries another your
heart will break, and you will become
foam on the crest of the waves."
"I will do it," said the little mermaid,
and she became pale as death.
"But I must be paid also," said the
witch, "and it is not a trifle that I ask.
You have the sweetest voice of any
who dwell here in the depths of the
sea, and you believe that you will be
able to charm the prince with it also,
but this voice you must give to me; the best thing you possess will I have for the price
of my draught. My own blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a twoedged
sword."
"But if you take away my voice," said the little mermaid, "what is left for me?"
"Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these
14
you can enchain a man's heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put out your little
tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught."
"It
shall
be,"
said
the
little
mermaid.
Then the witch placed her cauldron on the fire, to prepare the magic draught.
"Cleanliness is a good thing," said she, scouring the vessel with snakes, which she had
tied together in a large knot; then she pricked herself in the breast, and let the black
blood drop into it. The steam that rose formed itself into such horrible shapes that no
one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch threw something else
into the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound was like the weeping of a
crocodile. When at last the magic draught was ready, it looked like the clearest water.
"There it is for you," said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid's tongue, so that she
became dumb, and would never again speak or sing. "If the polypi should seize hold of
you as you return through the wood,"
said the witch, "throw over them a
few drops of the potion, and their
fingers will be torn into a thousand
pieces." But the little mermaid had no
occasion to do this, for the polypi
sprang back in terror when they
caught sight of the glittering draught,
which shone in her hand like a
twinkling
star.
So she passed quickly through the
wood and the marsh, and between the
rushing whirlpools. She saw that in
her father's palace the torches in the
ballroom were extinguished, and all
within asleep; but she did not venture
to go in to them, for now she was
dumb and going to leave them
forever, she felt as if her heart would
break. She stole into the garden, took
a flower from the flower-beds of each
of her sisters, kissed her hand a
thousand times towards the palace,
and then rose up through the dark
blue waters. The sun had not risen
when she came in sight of the prince's
palace, and approached the beautiful
marble steps, but the moon shone clear and bright. Then the little mermaid drank the
magic draught, and it seemed as if a two-edged sword went through her delicate body:
she fell into a swoon, and lay like one dead. When the sun arose and shone over the
sea, she recovered, and felt a sharp pain; but just before her stood the handsome young
prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so earnestly that she cast down her own,
and then became aware that her fish's tail was gone, and that she had as pretty a pair of
white legs and tiny feet as any little maiden could have; but she had no clothes, so she
PLACE
ADVERT
15
wrapped herself in her long, thick hair. The prince asked her who she was, and where
she came from, and she looked at him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes;
but she could not speak. Every step she took was as the witch had said it would be, she
felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives; but she bore it willingly,
and stepped as lightly by the prince's side as a soap-bubble, so that he and all who saw
her wondered at her graceful-swaying movements. She was very soon arrayed in costly
robes of silk and muslin, and was the most beautiful creature in the palace; but she was
dumb,
and
could
neither
speak
nor
sing.
Beautiful female slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward and sang before the
prince and his royal parents: one sang better than all the others, and the prince clapped
his hands and smiled at her. This was great sorrow to the little mermaid; she knew how
much more sweetly she herself could
sing once, and she thought, "Oh if he
could only know that! I have given
away my voice forever, to be with
him."
PLACE
ADVERT
The slaves next performed some
pretty fairy-like dances, to the sound
of beautiful music. Then the little
mermaid raised her lovely white
arms, stood on the tips of her toes,
and glided over the floor, and danced
as no one yet had been able to dance.
At each moment her beauty became
more revealed, and her expressive
eyes appealed more directly to the
heart than the songs of the slaves.
Everyone was enchanted, especially
the prince, who called her his little
foundling; and she danced again quite
readily, to please him, though each
time her foot touched the floor it
seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.
The prince said she should remain
with him always, and she received
permission to sleep at his door, on a
velvet cushion. He had a page's dress
made for her, that she might accompany him on horseback. They rode together through
the sweet-scented woods, where the green boughs touched their shoulders, and the
little birds sang among the fresh leaves. She climbed with the prince to the tops of high
mountains; and although her tender feet bled so that even her steps were marked, she
only laughed, and followed him till they could see the clouds beneath them looking
like a flock of birds travelling to distant lands. While at the prince's palace, and when
all the household were asleep, she would go and sit on the broad marble steps; for it
eased her burning feet to bathe them in the cold sea-water; and then she thought of all
those
below
in
the
deep.
16
Once during the night her sisters came up arm-in-arm, singing sorrowfully, as they
floated on the water. She beckoned to them, and then they recognized her, and told her
how she had grieved them. After that, they came to the same place every night; and
once she saw in the distance her old grandmother, who had not been to the surface of
the sea for many years, and the old Sea King, her father, with his crown on his head.
They stretched out their hands towards her, but they did not venture so near the land as
her
sisters
did.
As the days passed, she loved the prince more fondly, and he loved her as he would
love a little child, but it never came into his head to make her his wife; yet, unless he
married her, she could not receive an
immortal soul; and, on the morning
after his marriage with another, she
would dissolve into the foam of the
sea.
"Do you not love me the best of them
all?" the eyes of the little mermaid
seemed to say, when he took her in
his arms, and kissed her fair forehead.
PLACE
ADVERT
me
instead
of
her;
and
"Yes, you are dear to me," said the
prince; "for you have the best heart,
and you are the most devoted to me;
you are like a young maiden whom I
once saw, but whom I shall never
meet again. I was in a ship that was
wrecked, and the waves cast me
ashore near a holy temple, where
several young maidens performed the
service. The youngest of them found
me on the shore, and saved my life. I
saw her but twice, and she is the only
one in the world whom I could love;
but you are like her, and you have
almost driven her image out of my
mind. She belongs to the holy temple,
and my good fortune has sent you to
we
will
never
part."
"Ah, he knows not that it was I who saved his life," thought the little mermaid. "I
carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple stands: I sat beneath the foam,
and watched till the human beings came to help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he
loves better than he loves me;" and the mermaid sighed deeply, but she could not shed
tears. "He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple, therefore she will never return
to the world. They will meet no more: while I am by his side, and see him every day. I
will take care of him, and love him, and give up my life for his sake."
Very soon it was said that the prince must marry, and that the beautiful daughter of a
neighboring king would be his wife, for a fine ship was being fitted out. Although the
17
prince gave out that he merely
intended to pay a visit to the king, it
was generally supposed that he really
went to see his daughter. A great
company were to go with him. The
little mermaid smiled, and shook her
head. She knew the prince's thoughts
better than any of the others.
PLACE
ADVERT
"I must travel," he had said to her; "I
must see this beautiful princess; my
parents desire it; but they will not
oblige me to bring her home as my
bride. I cannot love her; she is not
like the beautiful maiden in the
temple, whom you resemble. If I
were forced to choose a bride, I
would rather choose you, my dumb
foundling, with those expressive
eyes." And then he kissed her rosy
mouth, played with her long waving
hair, and laid his head on her heart,
while she dreamed of human
happiness and an immortal soul.
"You are not afraid of the sea, my
dumb child," said he, as they stood on
the deck of the noble ship which was
to carry them to the country of the
neighboring king. And then he told
her of storm and of calm, of strange
fishes in the deep beneath them, and
of what the divers had seen there; and
she smiled at his descriptions, for she
knew better than anyone what
wonders were at the bottom of the
sea.
In the moonlight, when all on board
were asleep, excepting the man at the
helm, who was steering, she sat on the deck, gazing down through the clear water. She
thought she could distinguish her father's castle, and upon it her aged grandmother,
with the silver crown on her head, looking through the rushing tide at the keel of the
vessel. Then her sisters came up on the waves, and gazed at her mournfully, wringing
their white hands. She beckoned to them, and smiled, and wanted to tell them how
happy and well off she was; but the cabin-boy approached, and when her sisters dived
down he thought it was only the foam of the sea which he saw.
The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful town belonging to the
king whom the prince was going to visit. The church bells were ringing, and from the
high towers sounded a flourish of trumpets; and soldiers, with flying colors and
18
glittering bayonets, lined the rocks
through which they passed. Every day
was
a
festival;
balls
and
entertainments followed one another.
PLACE
ADVERT
your
devotion
to
me
But the princess had not yet appeared.
People said that she was being
brought up and educated in a
religious house, where she was
learning every royal virtue. At last
she came. Then the little mermaid,
who was very anxious to see whether
she was really beautiful, was obliged
to acknowledge that she had never
seen a more perfect vision of beauty.
Her skin was delicately fair, and
beneath her long dark eye-lashes her
laughing blue eyes shone with truth
and
purity.
"It was you," said the prince, "who
saved my life when I lay dead on the
beach," and he folded his blushing
bride in his arms. "Oh, I am too
happy," said he to the little mermaid;
"my fondest hopes are all fulfilled.
You will rejoice at my happiness; for
is
great
and
sincere."
The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart were already broken. His
wedding morning would bring death to her, and she would change into the foam of the
sea. All the church bells rung, and the heralds rode about the town proclaiming the
betrothal. Perfumed oil was burning in costly silver lamps on every altar. The priests
waved the censers, while the bride and bridegroom joined their hands and received the
blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid, dressed in silk and gold, held up the bride's
train; but her ears heard nothing of the festive music, and her eyes saw not the holy
ceremony; she thought of the night of death which was coming to her, and of all she
had lost in the world. On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on board
ship; cannons were roaring, flags waving, and in the centre of the ship a costly tent of
purple and gold had been erected. It contained elegant couches, for the reception of the
bridal pair during the night. The ship, with swelling sails and a favorable wind, glided
away smoothly and lightly over the calm sea. When it grew dark a number of colored
lamps were lit, and the sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid could
not help thinking of her first rising out of the sea, when she had seen similar festivities
and joys; and she joined in the dance, poised herself in the air as a swallow when he
pursues his prey, and all present cheered her with wonder. She had never danced so
elegantly before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she cared not for
it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart. She knew this was the last evening she
should ever see the prince, for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she
had given up her beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while he
19
knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she would breathe the same air with
him, or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea; an eternal night, without a thought or a
dream, awaited her: she had no soul and now she could never win one. All was joy and
gayety on board ship till long after midnight; she laughed and danced with the rest,
while the thoughts of death were in her heart. The prince kissed his beautiful bride,
while she played with his raven hair, till they went arm-in-arm to rest in the splendid
tent. Then all became still on board
the ship; the helmsman, alone awake,
stood at the helm. The little mermaid
leaned her white arms on the edge of
the vessel, and looked towards the
east for the first blush of morning, for
that first ray of dawn that would
bring her death. She saw her sisters
rising out of the flood: they were as
pale as herself; but their long
beautiful hair waved no more in the
wind, and had been cut off.
PLACE
ADVERT
"We have given our hair to the
witch," said they, "to obtain help for
you, that you may not die to-night.
She has given us a knife: here it is,
see it is very sharp. Before the sun
rises you must plunge it into the heart
of the prince; when the warm blood
falls upon your feet they will grow
together again, and form into a fish's
tail, and you will be once more a
mermaid, and return to us to live out
your three hundred years before you
die and change into the salt sea foam.
Haste, then; he or you must die
before sunrise. Our old grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off
from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch's scissors. Kill the prince and come back;
hasten: do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will
rise, and you must die." And then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank down
beneath
the
waves.
The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent, and beheld the fair bride
with her head resting on the prince's breast. She bent down and kissed his fair brow,
then looked at the sky on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she
glanced at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered the
name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the
hand of the little mermaid: then she flung it far away from her into the waves; the
water turned red where it fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast
one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the
ship into the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam. The sun rose above
the waves, and his warm rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid, who did not
feel as if she were dying. She saw the bright sun, and all around her floated hundreds
20
of transparent beautiful beings; she could see through them the white sails of the ship,
and the red clouds in the sky; their speech was melodious, but too ethereal to be heard
by mortal ears, as they were also unseen by mortal eyes. The little mermaid perceived
that she had a body like theirs, and that she continued to rise higher and higher out of
the foam. "Where am I?" asked she, and her voice sounded ethereal, as the voice of
those who were with her; no earthly music could imitate it.
"Among the daughters of the air," answered one of them. "A mermaid has not an
immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On
the power of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air, although
they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for
themselves. We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind
with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and
restoration. After we have striven for three hundred years to all the good in our power,
we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little
mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered
and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now, by
striving for three hundred years in the
same way, you may obtain an
immortal
soul."
PLACE
ADVERT
The little mermaid lifted her glorified
eyes towards the sun, and felt them,
for the first time, filling with tears.
On the ship, in which she had left the
prince, there were life and noise; she
saw him and his beautiful bride
searching for her; sorrowfully they
gazed at the pearly foam, as if they
knew she had thrown herself into the
waves. Unseen she kissed the
forehead of her bride, and fanned the
prince, and then mounted with the
other children of the air to a rosy
cloud that floated through the aether.
"After three hundred years, thus shall
we float into the kingdom of heaven,"
said she. "And we may even get there
sooner," whispered one of her
companions. "Unseen we can enter
the houses of men, where there are
children, and for every day on which
we find a good child, who is the joy
of his parents and deserves their love,
our time of probation is shortened. The child does not know, when we fly through the
room, that we smile with joy at his good conduct, for we can count one year less of our
three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or a wicked child, we shed tears of
sorrow, and for every tear a day is added to our time of trial!"
21
THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES
Once
upon
a
time...
Many years ago, there was an Emperor, who was so excessively fond of new clothes, that he
spent all his money in dress. He did not trouble himself in the least about his soldiers; nor did
he care to go either to the theatre or the chase, except for the opportunities then afforded him
for displaying his new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of the day; and as of any
other king or emperor, one is accustomed to say, "he is sitting in council," it was always said
of him, "The Emperor is sitting in his wardrobe."
Time passed merrily in the large town which
was his capital; strangers arrived every day
at the court. One day, two rogues, calling
themselves weavers, made their appearance.
They gave out that they knew how to weave
stuffs of the most beautiful colours and
elaborate patterns, the clothes manufactured
from which should have the wonderful
property of remaining invisible to everyone
who was unfit for the office he held, or who
was extraordinarily simple in character.
PLACE
ADVERT
"These must, indeed, be splendid clothes!"
thought the Emperor. "Had I such a suit, I
might at once find out what men in my
realms are unfit for their office, and also be
able to distinguish the wise from the foolish!
This stuff must be woven for me
immediately." And he caused large sums of
money to be given to both the weavers in
order that they might begin their work
directly.
So the two pretended weavers set up two
looms, and affected to work very busily,
though in reality they did nothing at all.
They asked for the most delicate silk and the
purest gold thread; put both into their own knapsacks; and then continued their pretended
work at the empty looms until late at night.
"I should like to know how the weavers are getting on with my cloth," said the Emperor to
himself, after some little time had elapsed; he was, however, rather embarrassed, when he
remembered that a simpleton, or one unfit for his office, would be unable to see the
manufacture. To be sure, he thought he had nothing to risk in his own person; but yet, he
would prefer sending somebody else, to bring him intelligence about the weavers, and their
work, before he troubled himself in the affair. All the people throughout the city had heard of
the wonderful property the cloth was to possess; and all were anxious to learn how wise, or
how ignorant, their neighbours might prove to be.
22
"I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers," said the Emperor at last, after some
deliberation, "he will be best able to see how the cloth looks; for he is a man of sense, and no
one can be more suitable for his office than be is."
So the faithful old minister went into the hall, where the knaves were working with all their
might, at their empty looms. "What can be the meaning of this?" thought the old man,
opening his eyes very wide. "I cannot discover the least bit of thread on the looms." However,
he did not express his thoughts aloud.
The impostors requested him very courteously to be so good as to come nearer their looms;
and then asked him whether the design pleased him, and whether the colours were not very
beautiful; at the same time pointing to the empty frames. The poor old minister looked and
looked, he could not discover anything on
the looms, for a very good reason, viz: there
was nothing there. "What!" thought he
again. "Is it possible that I am a simpleton? I
have never thought so myself; and no one
must know it now if I am so. Can it be, that
I am unfit for my office? No, that must not
be said either. I will never confess that I
could not see the stuff."
PLACE
ADVERT
"Well, Sir Minister!" said one of the knaves,
still pretending to work. "You do not say
whether the stuff pleases you."
"Oh, it is excellent!" replied the old
minister, looking at the loom through his
spectacles. "This pattern, and the colours,
yes, I will tell the Emperor without delay,
how very beautiful I think them."
"We shall be much obliged to you," said the
impostors, and then they named the different
colours and described the pattern of the
pretended stuff. The old minister listened
attentively to their words, in order that he
might repeat them to the Emperor; and then
the knaves asked for more silk and gold,
saying that it was necessary to complete what they had begun. However, they put all that was
given them into their knapsacks; and continued to work with as much apparent diligence as
before at their empty looms.
The Emperor now sent another officer of his court to see how the men were getting on, and to
ascertain whether the cloth would soon be ready. It was just the same with this gentleman as
with the minister; he surveyed the looms on all sides, but could see nothing at all but the
empty frames.
23
"Does not the stuff appear as beautiful to you, as it did to my lord the minister?" asked the
impostors of the Emperor's second ambassador; at the same time making the same gestures as
before, and talking of the design and colours which were not there.
"I certainly am not stupid!" thought the messenger. "It must be, that I am not fit for my good,
profitable office! That is very odd; however, no one shall know anything about it." And
accordingly he praised the stuff he could not see, and declared that he was delighted with
both colours and patterns. "Indeed, please your Imperial Majesty," said he to his sovereign
when he returned, "the cloth which the weavers are preparing is extraordinarily magnificent."
The whole city was talking of the splendid cloth which the Emperor had ordered to be woven
at his own expense.
And now the Emperor himself wished to see
the costly manufacture, while it was still in
the loom. Accompanied by a select number
of officers of the court, among whom were
the two honest men who had already
admired the cloth, he went to the crafty
impostors, who, as soon as they were aware
of the Emperor's approach, went on working
more diligently than ever; although they still
did not pass a single thread through the
looms.
PLACE
ADVERT
"Is not the work absolutely magnificent?"
said the two officers of the crown, already
mentioned. "If your Majesty will only be
pleased to look at it! What a splendid
design! What glorious colours!" and at the
same time they pointed to the empty frames;
for they imagined that everyone else could
see this exquisite piece of workmanship.
"How is this?" said the Emperor to himself.
"I can see nothing! This is indeed a terrible
affair! Am I a simpleton, or am I unfit to be
an Emperor? That would be the worst thing
that could happen--Oh! the cloth is
charming," said he, aloud. "It has my complete approbation." And he smiled most graciously,
and looked closely at the empty looms; for on no account would he say that he could not see
what two of the officers of his court had praised so much. All his retinue now strained their
eyes, hoping to discover something on the looms, but they could see no more than the others;
nevertheless, they all exclaimed, "Oh, how beautiful!" and advised his majesty to have some
new clothes made from this splendid material, for the approaching procession. "Magnificent!
Charming! Excellent!" resounded on all sides; and everyone was uncommonly gay. The
Emperor shared in the general satisfaction; and presented the impostors with the ribald of an
order of knighthood, to be worn in their button-holes, and the title of "Gentlemen Weavers."
24
The rogues sat up the whole of the night before the day on which the procession was to take
place, and had sixteen lights burning, so that everyone might see how anxious they were to
finish the Emperor's new suit. They pretended to roll the cloth off the looms; cut the air with
their scissors; and sewed with needles without any thread in them. "See!" cried they, at last.
"The Emperor's new clothes are ready!"
And now the Emperor, with all the grandees of his court, came to the weavers; and the rogues
raised their arms, as if in the act of holding something up, saying, "Here are your Majesty's
trousers! Here is the scarf! Here is the mantle! The whole suit is as light as a cobweb; one
might fancy one has nothing at all on, when dressed in it; that, however, is the great virtue of
this delicate cloth."
"Yes indeed!" said all the courtiers,
although not one of them could see anything
of this exquisite manufacture.
"If your Imperial Majesty will be graciously
pleased to take off your clothes, we will fit
on the new suit, in front of the looking
glass."
PLACE
ADVERT
The Emperor was accordingly undressed,
and the rogues pretended to array him in his
new suit; the Emperor turning round, from
side to side, before the looking glass.
"How splendid his Majesty looks in his new
clothes, and how well they fit!" everyone
cried out. "What a design! What colours!
These are indeed royal robes!"
"The canopy which is to be borne over your
Majesty, in the procession, is waiting,"
announced the chief master of the
ceremonies.
"I am quite ready," answered the Emperor.
"Do my new clothes fit well?" asked he,
turning himself round again before the
looking glass, in order that he might appear to be examining his handsome suit.
The lords of the bedchamber, who were to carry his Majesty's train felt about on the ground,
as if they were lifting up the ends of the mantle; and pretended to be carrying something; for
they would by no means betray anything like simplicity, or unfitness for their office.
So now the Emperor walked under his high canopy in the midst of the procession, through
the streets of his capital; and all the people standing by, and those at the windows, cried out,
"Oh! How beautiful are our Emperor's new clothes! What a magnificent train there is to the
mantle; and how gracefully the scarf hangs!" in short, no one would allow that he could not
see these much-admired clothes; because, in doing so, he would have declared himself either
25
a simpleton or unfit for his office. Certainly, none of the Emperor's various suits, had ever
made so great an impression, as these invisible ones.
"But the Emperor has nothing at all on!" said a little child. "Listen to the voice of innocence!"
exclaimed his father; and what the child had said was whispered from one to another.
"But he has nothing at all on!" at last cried out all the people. The Emperor was vexed, for he
knew that the people were right; but he thought the procession must go on now! And the
lords of the bedchamber took greater pains than ever, to appear holding up a train, although,
in reality, there was no train to hold.
26
THE OD BACHELOR’S NIGHTCAP
There is a street in Copenhagen with a very strange name. It is called "Hysken" street. Where
the name came from, and what it means is very uncertain. It is said to be German, but that is
unjust to the Germans, for it would then be called "Hauschen," not "Hysken." "Hauschen,"
means a little house; and for many years it consisted only of a few small houses, which were
scarcely larger than the wooden booths we see in the market-places at fair time. They were
perhaps a little higher, and had windows; but the panes consisted of horn or bladder-skins, for
glass was then too dear to have glazed windows in every house. This was a long time ago, so
long indeed that our grandfathers, and even
great-grandfathers, would speak of those
days as "olden times;" indeed, many
centuries have passed since then.
The rich merchants in Bremen and Lubeck,
who carried on trade in Copenhagen, did not
reside in the town themselves, but sent their
clerks, who dwelt in the wooden booths in
the Hauschen street, and sold beer and
spices. The German beer was very good,
and there were many sorts—from Bremen,
Prussia, and Brunswick—and quantities of
all sorts of spices, saffron, aniseed, ginger,
and especially pepper; indeed, pepper was
almost the chief article sold here; so it
happened at last that the German clerks in
Denmark got their nickname of "pepper
gentry." It had been made a condition with
these clerks that they should not marry; so
that those who lived to be old had to take
care of themselves, to attend to their own
comforts, and even to light their own fires,
when they had any to light. Many of them
were very aged; lonely old boys, with strange thoughts and eccentric habits. From this, all
unmarried men, who have attained a certain age, are called, in Denmark, "pepper gentry;" and
this must be remembered by all those who wish to understand the story. These "pepper
gentlemen," or, as they are called in England, "old bachelors," are often made a butt of
ridicule; they are told to put on their nightcaps, draw them over their eyes, and go to sleep.
The boys in Denmark make a song of it, thus:— "Poor old bachelor, cut your wood,
Such a nightcap was never seen;
Who would think it was ever clean?
Go to sleep, it will do you good."
PLACE
ADVERT
27
So they sing about the "pepper gentleman;" so do they make sport of the poor old bachelor
and his nightcap, and all because they really know nothing of either. It is a cap that no one
need wish for, or laugh at. And why not? Well, we shall hear in the story.
In olden times, Hauschen Street was not paved, and passengers would stumble out of one
hole into another, as they generally do in unfrequented highways; and the street was so
narrow, and the booths leaning against each other were so close together, that in the summer
time a sail would be stretched across the street from one booth to another opposite. At these
times the odor of the pepper, saffron, and ginger became more powerful than ever. Behind the
counter, as a rule, there were no young men. The clerks were almost all old boys; but they did
not dress as we are accustomed to see old
men represented, wearing wigs, nightcaps,
and knee-breeches, and with coat and
waistcoat buttoned up to the chin. We have
seen the portraits of our great-grandfathers
dressed in this way; but the "pepper
gentlemen" had no money to spare to have
their portraits taken, though one of them
would have made a very interesting picture
for us now, if taken as he appeared standing
behind his counter, or going to church, or on
holidays. On these occasions, they wore
high-crowned, broad-brimmed hats, and
sometimes a younger clerk would stick a
feather in his. The woollen shirt was
concealed by a broad, linen collar; the close
jacket was buttoned up to the chin, and the
cloak hung loosely over it; the trousers were
tucked into the broad, tipped shoes, for the
clerks wore no stockings. They generally
stuck a table-knife and spoon in their
girdles, as well as a larger knife, as a
protection to themselves; and such a weapon
was often very necessary.
After this fashion was Anthony dressed on holidays and festivals, excepting that, instead of a
high-crowned hat, he wore a kind of bonnet, and under it a knitted cap, a regular nightcap, to
which he was so accustomed that it was always on his head; he had two, nightcaps I mean,
not heads. Anthony was one of the oldest of the clerks, and just the subject for a painter. He
was as thin as a lath, wrinkled round the mouth and eyes, had long, bony fingers, bushy, gray
eyebrows, and over his left eye hung a thick tuft of hair, which did not look handsome, but
made his appearance very remarkable. People knew that he came from Bremen; it was not
exactly his home, although his master resided there. His ancestors were from Thuringia, and
had lived in the town of Eisenach, close by Wartburg. Old Anthony seldom spoke of this
place, but he thought of it all the more.
PLACE
ADVERT
28
he old clerks of Hauschen Street very seldom met together; each one remained in his own
booth, which was closed early enough in the evening, and then it looked dark and dismal out
in the street. Only a faint glimmer of light struggled through the horn panes in the little
window on the roof, while within sat the old clerk, generally on his bed, singing his evening
hymn in a low voice; or he would be moving about in his booth till late in the night, busily
employed in many things. It certainly was not a very lively existence. To be a stranger in a
strange land is a bitter lot; no one notices you unless you happen to stand in their way. Often,
when it was dark night outside, with rain or snow falling, the place looked quite deserted and
gloomy. There were no lamps in the street, excepting a very small one, which hung at one
end of the street, before a picture of the Virgin, which had been painted on the wall. The
dashing of the water against the bulwarks of
a neighboring castle could plainly be heard.
Such evenings are long and dreary, unless
people can find something to do; and so
Anthony found it. There were not always
things to be packed or unpacked, nor paper
bags to be made, nor the scales to be
polished. So Anthony invented employment;
he mended his clothes and patched his
boots, and when he at last went to bed,—his
nightcap, which he had worn from habit,
still remained on his head; he had only to
pull it down a little farther over his
forehead. Very soon, however, it would be
pushed up again to see if the light was
properly put out; he would touch it, press
the wick together, and at last pull his
nightcap over his eyes and lie down again
on the other side. But often there would
arise in his mind a doubt as to whether every
coal had been quite put out in the little firepan in the shop below. If even a tiny spark
had remained it might set fire to something,
and cause great damage. Then he would rise
from his bed, creep down the ladder—for it could scarcely be called a flight of stairs—and
when he reached the fire-pan not a spark could be seen; so he had just to go back again to
bed. But often, when he had got half way back, he would fancy the iron shutters of the door
were not properly fastened, and his thin legs would carry him down again. And when at last
he crept into bed, he would be so cold that his teeth chattered in his head. He would draw the
coverlet closer round him, pull his nightcap over his eyes, and try to turn his thoughts from
trade, and from the labors of the day, to olden times. But this was scarcely an agreeable
entertainment; for thoughts of olden memories raise the curtains from the past, and
sometimes pierce the heart with painful recollections till the agony brings tears to the waking
eyes. And so it was with Anthony; often the scalding tears, like pearly drops, would fall from
PLACE
ADVERT
29
his eyes to the coverlet and roll on the floor with a sound as if one of his heartstrings had
broken. Sometimes, with a lurid flame, memory would light up a picture of life which had
never faded from his heart. If he dried his eyes with his nightcap, then the tear and the picture
would be crushed; but the source of the tears remained and welled up again in his heart. The
pictures did not follow one another in order, as the circumstances they represented had
occurred; very often the most painful would come together, and when those came which were
most full of joy, they had always the deepest shadow thrown upon them.
The beech woods of Denmark are acknowledged by everyone to be very beautiful, but more
beautiful still in the eyes of old Anthony were the beech woods in the neighborhood of
Wartburg. More grand and venerable to him
seemed the old oaks around the proud
baronial castle, where the creeping plants
hung over the stony summits of the rocks;
sweeter was the perfume there of the appleblossom than in all the land of Denmark.
How vividly were represented to him, in a
glittering tear that rolled down his cheek,
two children at play—a boy and a girl. The
boy had rosy cheeks, golden ringlets, and
clear, blue eyes; he was the son of Anthony,
a rich merchant; it was himself. The little
girl had brown eyes and black hair, and was
clever and courageous; she was the mayor's
daughter, Molly. The children were playing
with an apple; they shook the apple, and
heard the pips rattling in it. Then they cut it
in two, and each of them took half. They
also divided the pips and ate all but one,
which the little girl proposed should be
placed in the ground.
PLACE
ADVERT
"You will see what will come out," she said;
"something you don't expect. A whole
apple-tree will come out, but not directly." Then they got a flower-pot, filled it with earth,
and were soon both very busy and eager about it. The boy made a hole in the earth with his
finger, and the little girl placed the pip in the hole, and then they both covered it over with
earth.
"Now you must not take it out to-morrow to see if it has taken root," said Molly; "no one ever
should do that. I did so with my flowers, but only twice; I wanted to see if they were growing.
I didn't know any better then, and the flowers all died."
Little Anthony kept the flower-pot, and every morning during the whole winter he looked at
30
it, but there was nothing to be seen but black earth. At last, however, the spring came, and the
sun shone warm again, and then two little green leaves sprouted forth in the pot.
"They are Molly and me," said the boy. "How wonderful they are, and so beautiful!"
Very soon a third leaf made its appearance.
"Who does that stand for?" thought he, and then came another and another. Day after day and
week after week, till the plant became quite a tree. And all this about the two children was
mirrored to old Anthony in a single tear, which could soon be wiped away and disappear, but
might come again from its source in the heart of the old man.
PLACE
ADVERT
In the neighborhood of Eisenach stretches a
ridge of stony mountains, one of which has
a rounded outline, and shows itself above
the rest without tree, bush, or grass on its
barren summits. It is called the "Venus
Mountain," and the story goes that the
"Lady Venus," one of the heathen
goddesses, keeps house there. She is also
called "Lady Halle," as every child round
Eisenach well knows. She it was who
enticed the noble knight, Tannhauser, the
minstrel, from the circle of singers at
Wartburg into her mountain.
Little Molly and Anthony often stood by
this mountain, and one day Molly said, "Do
you dare to knock and say, 'Lady Halle,
Lady Halle, open the door: Tannhauser is
here!'" But Anthony did not dare. Molly,
however, did, though she only said the
words, "Lady Halle, Lady Halle," loudly
and distinctly; the rest she muttered so much
under her breath that Anthony felt certain
she had really said nothing; and yet she looked quite bold and saucy, just as she did
sometimes when she was in the garden with a number of other little girls; they would all
stand round him together, and want to kiss him, because he did not like to be kissed, and
pushed them away. Then Molly was the only one who dared to resist him. "I may kiss him,"
she would say proudly, as she threw her arms round his neck; she was vain of her power over
Anthony, for he would submit quietly and think nothing of it. Molly was very charming, but
rather bold; and how she did tease! They said Lady Halle was beautiful, but her beauty was
that of a tempting fiend. Saint Elizabeth, the tutelar saint of the land, the pious princess of
Thuringia, whose good deeds have been immortalized in so many places through stories and
legends, had greater beauty and more real grace. Her picture hung in the chapel, surrounded
31
by silver lamps; but it did not in the least resemble Molly.
The apple-tree, which the two children had planted, grew year after year, till it became so
large that it had to be transplanted into the garden, where the dew fell and the sun shone
warmly. And there it increased in strength so much as to be able to withstand the cold of
winter; and after passing through the severe weather, it seemed to put forth its blossoms in
spring for very joy that the cold season had gone. In autumn it produced two apples, one for
Molly and one for Anthony; it could not well do less. The tree after this grew very rapidly,
and Molly grew with the tree. She was as fresh as an apple-blossom, but Anthony was not to
behold this flower for long. All things change; Molly's father left his old home, and Molly
went with him far away. In our time, it would be only a journey of a few hours, but then it
took more than a day and a night to travel so
far eastward from Eisenbach to a town still
called Weimar, on the borders of Thuringia.
And Molly and Anthony both wept, but
these tears all flowed together into one tear
which had the rosy shimmer of joy. Molly
had told him that she loved him—loved him
more than all the splendors of Weimar.
One, two, three years went by, and during
the whole time he received only two letters.
One came by the carrier, and the other a
traveller brought. The way was very long
and difficult, with many turnings and
windings through towns and villages. How
often had Anthony and Molly heard the
story of Tristan and Isolda, and Anthony
had thought the story applied to him,
although Tristan means born in sorrow,
which Anthony certainly was not; nor was it
likely he would ever say of Molly as Tristan
said of Isolda, "She has forgotten me." But
in truth, Isolda had not forgotten him, her
faithful friend; and when both were laid in
their graves, one, on each side of the church, the linden-trees that grew by each grave spread
over the roof, and, bending towards each other, mingled their blossoms together. Anthony
thought it a very beautiful but mournful story; yet he never feared anything so sad would
happen to him and Molly, as he passed the spot, whistling the air of a song, composed by the
minstrel Walter, called the "Willow bird," beginning—
PLACE
ADVERT
"Under the linden-trees,
Out on the heath."
One stanza pleased him exceedingly—
32
"Through the forest, and in the vale,
Sweetly warbles the nightingale.
This song was often in his mouth, and he sung or whistled it on a moonlight night, when he
rode on horseback along the deep, hollow way, on his road to Weimar, to visit Molly. He
wished to arrive unexpectedly, and so indeed he did. He was received with a hearty welcome,
and introduced to plenty of grand and pleasant company, where overflowing wine cups were
passed about. A pretty room and a good bed were provided for him, and yet his reception was
not what he had expected and dreamed it would be. He could not comprehend his own
feelings nor the feelings of others; but it is easily understood how a person can be admitted
into a house or a family without becoming
one of them. We converse in company with
those we meet, as we converse with our
fellow-travellers in a stage-coach, on a
journey; we know nothing of them, and
perhaps all the while we are incommoding
one another, and each is wishing himself or
his neighbor away. Something of this kind
Anthony felt when Molly talked to him of
old times.
PLACE
ADVERT
"I am a straightforward girl," she said, "and
I will tell you myself how it is. There have
been great changes since we were children
together; everything is different, both
inwardly and outwardly. We cannot control
our wills, nor the feelings of our hearts, by
the force of custom. Anthony, I would not,
for the world, make an enemy of you when I
am far away. Believe me, I entertain for you
the kindest wishes in my heart; but to feel
for you what I now know can be felt for
another man, can never be. You must try
and reconcile yourself to this. Farewell,
Anthony."
Anthony also said, "Farewell." Not a tear came into his eye; he felt he was no longer Molly's
friend. Hot iron and cold iron alike take the skin from our lips, and we feel the same sensation
if we kiss either; and Anthony's kiss was now the kiss of hatred, as it had once been the kiss
of love. Within four-and-twenty hours Anthony was back again to Eisenach, though the horse
that he rode was entirely ruined.
"What matters it?" said he; "I am ruined also. I will destroy everything that can remind me of
her, or of Lady Halle, or Lady Venus, the heathen woman. I will break down the apple-tree,
and tear it up by the roots; never more shall it blossom or bear fruit."
33
The apple-tree was not broken down; for Anthony himself was struck with a fever, which
caused him to break down, and confined him to his bed. But something occurred to raise him
up again. What was it? A medicine was offered to him, which he was obliged to take: a bitter
remedy, at which the sick body and the oppressed spirit alike shuddered. Anthony's father
lost all his property, and, from being known as one of the richest merchants, he became very
poor. Dark days, heavy trials, with poverty at the door, came rolling into the house upon them
like the waves of the sea. Sorrow and suffering deprived Anthony's father of his strength, so
that he had something else to think of besides nursing his love-sorrows and his anger against
Molly. He had to take his father's place, to give orders, to act with energy, to help, and, at
last, to go out into the world and earn his bread. Anthony went to Bremen, and there he learnt
what poverty and hard living really were.
These things often harden the character, but
sometimes soften the heart, even too much.
PLACE
ADVERT
How different the world, and the people in
it, appeared to Anthony now, to what he had
thought in his childhood! What to him were
the minstrel's songs? An echo of the past,
sounds long vanished. At times he would
think in this way; yet again and again the
songs would sound in his soul, and his heart
become gentle and pious.
"God's will is the best," he would then say.
"It was well that I was not allowed to keep
my power over Molly's heart, and that she
did not remain true to me. How I should
have felt it now, when fortune has deserted
me! She left me before she knew of the
change in my circumstances, or had a
thought of what was before me. That is a
merciful providence for me. All has
happened for the best. She could not help it,
and yet I have been so bitter, and in such
enmity against her."
Years passed by: Anthony's father died, and strangers lived in the old house. He had seen it
once again since then. His rich master sent him journeys on business, and on one occasion his
way led him to his native town of Eisenach. The old Wartburg castle stood unchanged on the
rock where the monk and the nun were hewn out of the stone. The great oaks formed an
outline to the scene which he so well remembered in his childhood. The Venus mountain
stood out gray and bare, overshadowing the valley beneath. He would have been glad to call
out "Lady Halle, Lady Halle, unlock the mountain. I would fain remain here always in my
native soil." That was a sinful thought, and he offered a prayer to drive it away. Then a little
34
bird in the thicket sang out clearly, and old Anthony thought of the minstrel's song. How
much came back to his remembrance as he looked through the tears once more on his native
town! The old house was still standing as in olden times, but the garden had been greatly
altered; a pathway led through a portion of the ground, and outside the garden, and beyond
the path, stood the old apple-tree, which he had not broken down, although he talked of doing
so in his trouble. The sun still threw its rays upon the tree, and the refreshing dew fell upon it
as of old; and it was so overloaded with fruit that the branches bent towards the earth with the
weight. "That flourishes still," said he, as he gazed. One of the branches of the tree had,
however, been broken: mischievous hands must have done this in passing, for the tree now
stood in a public thoroughfare. "The blossoms are often plucked," said Anthony; "the fruit is
stolen and the branches broken without a
thankful thought of their profusion and
beauty. It might be said of a tree, as it has
been said of some men—it was not
predicted at his cradle that he should come
to this. How brightly began the history of
this tree, and what is it now? Forsaken and
forgotten, in a garden by a hedge in a field,
and close to a public road. There it stands,
unsheltered, plundered, and broken. It
certainly has not yet withered; but in the
course of years the number of blossoms
from time to time will grow less, and at last
it was cease altogether to bear fruit; and
then its history will be over."
PLACE
ADVERT
Such were Anthony's thoughts as he stood
under the tree, and during many a long night
as he lay in his lonely chamber in the
wooden house in Hauschen Street,
Copenhagen, in the foreign land to which
the rich merchant of Bremen, his employer,
had sent him on condition that he should
never marry. "Marry! ha, ha!" and he
laughed bitterly to himself at the thought.
Winter one year set in early, and it was freezing hard. Without, a snowstorm made every one
remain at home who could do so. Thus it happened that Anthony's neighbors, who lived
opposite to him, did not notice that his house remained unopened for two days, and that he
had not showed himself during that time, for who would go out in such weather unless he
were obliged to do so. They were gray, gloomy days, and in the house whose windows were
not glass, twilight and dark nights reigned in turns. During these two days old Anthony had
not left his bed, he had not the strength to do so. The bitter weather had for some time
affected his limbs. There lay the old bachelor, forsaken by all, and unable to help himself. He
35
could scarcely reach the water jug that he had placed by his bed, and the last drop was gone.
It was not fever, nor sickness, but old age, that had laid him low. In the little corner, where
his bed lay, he was over-shadowed as it were by perpetual night. A little spider, which he
could however not see, busily and cheerfully spun its web above him, so that there should be
a kind of little banner waving over the old man, when his eyes closed. The time passed
slowly and painfully. He had no tears to shed, and he felt no pain; no thought of Molly came
into his mind. He felt as if the world was now nothing to him, as if he were lying beyond it,
with no one to think of him. Now and then he felt slight sensations of hunger and thirst; but
no one came to him, no one tended him. He thought of all those who had once suffered from
starvation, of Saint Elizabeth, who once wandered on the earth, the saint of his home and his
childhood, the noble Duchess of Thuringia,
that highly esteemed lady who visited the
poorest villages, bringing hope and relief to
the sick inmates. The recollection of her
pious deeds was as light to the soul of poor
Anthony. He thought of her as she went
about speaking words of comfort, binding
up the wounds of the afflicted and feeding
the hungry, although often blamed for it by
her stern husband. He remembered a story
told of her, that on one occasion, when she
was carrying a basket full of wine and
provisions, her husband, who had watched
her footsteps, stepped forward and asked her
angrily what she carried in her basket,
whereupon, with fear and trembling, she
answered, "Roses, which I have plucked
from the garden." Then he tore away the
cloth which covered the basket, and what
could equal the surprise of the pious
woman, to find that by a miracle, everything
in her basket— the wine, the bread—had all
been changed into roses.
In this way the memory of the kind lady
dwelt in the calm mind of Anthony. She was as a living reality in his little dwelling in the
Danish land. He uncovered his face that he might look into her gentle eyes, while everything
around him changed from its look of poverty and want, to a bright rose tint. The fragrance of
roses spread through the room, mingled with the sweet smell of apples. He saw the branches
of an apple-tree spreading above him. It was the tree which he and Molly had planted
together. The fragrant leaves of the tree fell upon him and cooled his burning brow; upon his
parched lips they seemed like refreshing bread and wine; and as they rested on his breast, a
peaceful calm stole over him, and he felt inclined to sleep. "I shall sleep now," he whispered
to himself. "Sleep will do me good. In the morning I shall be upon my feet again, strong and
well. Glorious! wonderful! That apple-tree, planted in love, now appears before me in
PLACE
ADVERT
36
heavenly beauty." And he slept.
The following day, the third day during which his house had been closed, the snow-storm
ceased. Then his opposite neighbor stepped over to the house in which old Anthony lived, for
he had not yet showed himself. There he lay stretched on his bed, dead, with his old nightcap
tightly clasped in his two hands. The nightcap, however, was not placed on his head in his
coffin; he had a clean white one on then. Where now were the tears he had shed? What had
become of those wonderful pearls? They were in the nightcap still. Such tears as these cannot
be washed out, even when the nightcap is forgotten. The old thoughts and dreams of a
bachelor's nightcap still remain. Never wish for such a nightcap. It would make your forehead
hot, cause your pulse to beat with agitation, and conjure up dreams which would appear
realities.
The first who wore old Anthony's cap felt
the truth of this, though it was half a century
afterwards. That man was the mayor
himself, who had already made a
comfortable home for his wife and eleven
children, by his industry. The moment he
put the cap on he dreamed of unfortunate
love, of bankruptcy, and of dark days.
"Hallo! how the nightcap burns!" he
exclaimed, as he tore it from his bead. Then
a pearl rolled out, and then another, and
another, and they glittered and sounded as
they fell. "What can this be? Is it paralysis,
or something dazzling my eyes?" They were
the tears which old Anthony had shed half a
century before.
To everyone who afterwards put this cap on
his head, came visions and dreams which
agitated him not a little. His own history
was changed into that of Anthony till it
became quite a story, and many stories
might be made by others, so we will leave
them to relate their own. We have told the first; and our last word is, don't wish for a
"bachelor's nightcap."
PLACE
ADVERT
37
THE GARDEN OF PARADISE
There was once a king's son who had a larger and more beautiful collection of books than
anyone else in the world, and full of splendid copper-plate engravings. He could read and
obtain information respecting every people of every land; but not a word could he find to
explain the situation of the garden of paradise, and this was just what he most wished to
know. His grandmother had told him when he was quite a little boy, just old enough to go to
school, that each flower in the garden of
paradise was a sweet cake, that the pistils
were full of rich wine, that on one flower
history was written, on another geography
or tables; so those who wished to learn their
lessons had only to eat some of the cakes,
and the more they ate, the more history,
geography, or tables they knew. He believed
it all then; but as he grew older, and learnt
more and more, he became wise enough to
understand that the splendor of the garden of
paradise must be very different to all this.
"Oh, why did Eve pluck the fruit from the
tree of knowledge? why did Adam eat the
forbidden fruit?" thought the king's son: "if I
had been there it would never have
happened, and there would have been no sin
in the world." The garden of paradise
occupied all his thoughts till he reached his
seventeenth year.
PLACE
ADVERT
One day he was walking alone in the wood,
which was his greatest pleasure, when
evening came on. The clouds gathered, and
the rain poured down as if the sky had been a waterspout; and it was as dark as the bottom of
a well at midnight; sometimes he slipped over the smooth grass, or fell over stones that
projected out of the rocky ground. Everything was dripping with moisture, and the poor
prince had not a dry thread about him. He was obliged at last to climb over great blocks of
stone, with water spurting from the thick moss. He began to feel quite faint, when he heard a
most singular rushing noise, and saw before him a large cave, from which came a blaze of
light. In the middle of the cave an immense fire was burning, and a noble stag, with its
branching horns, was placed on a spit between the trunks of two pine-trees. It was turning
slowly before the fire, and an elderly woman, as large and strong as if she had been a man in
disguise, sat by, throwing one piece of wood after another into the flames.
38
"Come in," she said to the prince; "sit down by the fire and dry yourself."
"There is a great draught here," said the prince, as he seated himself on the ground.
"It will be worse when my sons come home," replied the woman; "you are now in the cavern
of the Winds, and my sons are the four Winds of heaven: can you understand that?"
"Where are your sons?" asked the prince.
"It is difficult to answer stupid questions,"
said the woman. "My sons have plenty of
business on hand; they are playing at
shuttlecock with the clouds up yonder in the
king's hall," and she pointed upwards.
"Oh, indeed," said the prince; "but you
speak more roughly and harshly and are not
so gentle as the women I am used to."
PLACE
ADVERT
"Yes, that is because they have nothing else
to do; but I am obliged to be harsh, to keep
my boys in order, and I can do it, although
they are so head-strong. Do you see those
four sacks hanging on the wall? Well, they
are just as much afraid of those sacks, as
you used to be of the rat behind the lookingglass. I can bend the boys together, and put
them in the sacks without any resistance on
their parts, I can tell you. There they stay,
and dare not attempt to come out until I
allow them to do so. And here comes one of
them."
It was the North Wind who came in, bringing with him a cold, piercing blast; large hailstones
rattled on the floor, and snowflakes were scattered around in all directions. He wore a
bearskin dress and cloak. His sealskin cap was drawn over his ears, long icicles hung from his
beard, and one hailstone after another rolled from the collar of his jacket.
"Don't go too near the fire," said the prince, "or your hands and face will be frost-bitten."
"Frost-bitten!" said the North Wind, with a loud laugh; "why frost is my greatest delight.
What sort of a little snip are you, and how did you find your way to the cavern of the
39
Winds?"
"He is my guest," said the old woman, "and if you are not satisfied with that explanation you
can go into the sack. Do you understand me?"
That settled the matter. So the North Wind began to relate his adventures, whence he came,
and where he had been for a whole month. "I come from the polar seas," he said; "I have been
on the Bear's Island with the Russian walrus-hunters. I sat and slept at the helm of their ship,
as they sailed away from North Cape. Sometimes when I woke, the storm-birds would fly
about my legs. They are curious birds; they give one flap with their wings, and then on their
outstretched pinions soar far away.
"Don't make such a long story of it," said
the mother of the winds; "what sort of a
place is Bear's Island?"
"A very beautiful place, with a floor for
dancing as smooth and flat as a plate. Halfmelted snow, partly covered with moss,
sharp stones, and skeletons of walruses and
polar-bears, lie all about, their gigantic
limbs in a state of green decay. It would
seem as if the sun never shone there. I blew
gently, to clear away the mist, and then I
saw a little hut, which had been built from
the wood of a wreck, and was covered with
the skins of the walrus, the fleshy side
outwards; it looked green and red, and on
the roof sat a growling bear. Then I went to
the sea shore, to look after birds' nests, and
saw the unfledged nestlings opening their
mouths and screaming for food. I blew into
the thousand little throats, and quickly
stopped their screaming. Farther on were the
walruses with pig's heads, and teeth a yard long, rolling about like great worms.
PLACE
ADVERT
"You relate your adventures very well, my son," said the mother, "it makes my mouth water
to hear you.
"After that," continued the North Wind, "the hunting commenced. The harpoon was flung
into the breast of the walrus, so that a smoking stream of blood spurted forth like a fountain,
and besprinkled the ice. Then I thought of my own game; I began to blow, and set my own
ships, the great icebergs sailing, so that they might crush the boats. Oh, how the sailors
howled and cried out! but I howled louder than they. They were obliged to unload their cargo,
40
and throw their chests and the dead walruses on the ice. Then I sprinkled snow over them,
and left them in their crushed boats to drift southward, and to taste salt water. They will never
return to Bear's Island."
"So you have done mischief," said the mother of the Winds.
"I shall leave others to tell the good I have done," he replied. "But here comes my brother
from the West; I like him best of all, for he has the smell of the sea about him, and brings in a
cold, fresh air as he enters."
"Is that the little Zephyr?" asked the prince.
"Yes, it is the little Zephyr," said the old
woman; "but he is not little now. In years
gone by he was a beautiful boy; now that is
all past."
PLACE
ADVERT
He came in, looking like a wild man, and he
wore a slouched hat to protect his head from
injury. In his hand he carried a club, cut
from a mahogany tree in the American
forests, not a trifle to carry.
"Whence do you come?" asked the mother.
"I come from the wilds of the forests, where
the thorny brambles form thick hedges
between the trees; where the water-snake
lies in the wet grass, and mankind seem to
be unknown."
"What were you doing there?"
"I looked into the deep river, and saw it
rushing down from the rocks. The water drops mounted to the clouds and glittered in the
rainbow. I saw the wild buffalo swimming in the river, but the strong tide carried him away
amidst a flock of wild ducks, which flew into the air as the waters dashed onwards, leaving
the buffalo to be hurled over the waterfall. This pleased me; so I raised a storm, which rooted
up old trees, and sent them floating down the river."
"And what else have you done?" asked the old woman.
"I have rushed wildly across the savannahs; I have stroked the wild horses, and shaken the
cocoa-nuts from the trees. Yes, I have many stories to relate; but I need not tell everything I
41
know. You know it all very well, don't you, old lady?" And he kissed his mother so roughly,
that she nearly fell backwards. Oh, he was, indeed, a wild fellow.
Now in came the South Wind, with a turban and a flowing Bedouin cloak.
"How cold it is here!" said he, throwing more wood on the fire. "It is easy to feel that the
North Wind has arrived here before me."
"Why it is hot enough here to roast a bear," said the North Wind.
"You are a bear yourself," said the other.
"Do you want to be put in the sack, both of
you?" said the old woman. "Sit down, now,
on that stone, yonder, and tell me where you
have been."
"In Africa mother, I went out with the
Hottentots, who were lion-hunting in the
Kaffir land, where the plains are covered
with grass the color of a green olive; and
here I ran races with the ostrich, but I soon
outstripped him in swiftness. At last I came
to the desert, in which lie the golden sands,
looking like the bottom of the sea. Here I
met a caravan, and the travellers had just
killed their last camel, to obtain water; there
was very little for them, and they continued
their painful journey beneath the burning
sun, and over the hot sands, which stretched
before them a vast, boundless desert. Then I
rolled myself in the loose sand, and whirled
it in burning columns over their heads. The
dromedarys stood still in terror, while the
merchants drew their caftans over their heads, and threw themselves on the ground before
me, as they do before Allah, their god. Then I buried them beneath a pyramid of sand, which
covers them all. When I blow that away on my next visit, the sun will bleach their bones, and
travellers will see that others have been there before them; otherwise, in such a wild desert,
they might not believe it possible."
PLACE
ADVERT
"So you have done nothing but evil," said the mother. "Into the sack with you;" and, before
he was aware, she had seized the South Wind round the body, and popped him into the bag.
He rolled about on the floor, till she sat herself upon him to keep him still.
42
"These boys of yours are very lively," said the prince.
"Yes," she replied, "but I know how to correct them, when necessary; and here comes the
fourth." In came the East Wind, dressed like a Chinese.
"Oh, you come from that quarter, do you?" said she; "I thought you had been to the garden of
paradise."
"I am going there to-morrow," he replied; "I have not been there for a hundred years. I have
just come from China, where I danced round the porcelain tower till all the bells jingled
again. In the streets an official flogging was taking place, and bamboo canes were being
broken on the shoulders of men of every high position, from the first to the ninth grade. They
cried, 'Many thanks, my fatherly
benefactor;' but I am sure the words did not
come from their hearts, so I rang the bells
till they sounded, 'ding, ding-dong.'"
PLACE
ADVERT
"You are a wild boy," said the old woman;
"it is well for you that you are going tomorrow to the garden of paradise; you
always get improved in your education
there. Drink deeply from the fountain of
wisdom while you are there, and bring home
a bottleful for me." "That I will," said the
East Wind; "but why have you put my
brother South in a bag? Let him out; for I
want him to tell me about the phoenix-bird.
The princess always wants to hear of this
bird when I pay her my visit every hundred
years. If you will open the sack, sweetest
mother, I will give you two pocketfuls of
tea, green and fresh as when I gathered it
from the spot where it grew."
"Well, for the sake of the tea, and because
you are my own boy, I will open the bag."
She did so, and the South Wind crept out, looking quite cast down, because the prince had
seen his disgrace.
"There is a palm-leaf for the princess," he said. "The old phoenix, the only one in the world,
gave it to me himself. He has scratched on it with his beak the whole of his history during the
hundred years he has lived. She can there read how the old phoenix set fire to his own nest,
and sat upon it while it was burning, like a Hindoo widow. The dry twigs around the nest
crackled and smoked till the flames burst forth and consumed the phoenix to ashes. Amidst
the fire lay an egg, red hot, which presently burst with a loud report, and out flew a young
43
bird. He is the only phoenix in the world, and the king over all the other birds. He has bitten a
hole in the leaf which I give you, and that is his greeting to the princess."
"Now let us have something to eat," said the mother of the Winds. So they all sat down to
feast on the roasted stag; and as the prince sat by the side of the East Wind, they soon became
good friends.
"Pray tell me," said the prince, "who is that princess of whom you have been talking! and
where lies the garden of paradise?"
"Ho! ho!" said the East Wind, "would you
like to go there? Well, you can fly off with
me to-morrow; but I must tell you one
thing—no human being has been there since
the time of Adam and Eve. I suppose you
have read of them in your Bible."
"Of course I have," said the prince.
PLACE
ADVERT
"Well," continued the East Wind, "when
they were driven out of the garden of
paradise, it sunk into the earth; but it
retained its warm sunshine, its balmy air,
and all its splendor. The fairy queen lives
there, in the island of happiness, where
death never comes, and all is beautiful. I can
manage to take you there to-morrow, if you
will sit on my back. But now don't talk any
more, for I want to go to sleep;" and then
they all slept.
When the prince awoke in the early
morning, he was not a little surprised at
finding himself high up above the clouds.
He was seated on the back of the East Wind, who held him faithfully; and they were so high
in the air that woods and fields, rivers and lakes, as they lay beneath them, looked like a
painted map.
"Good morning," said the East Wind. "You might have slept on a while; for there is very little
to see in the flat country over which we are passing unless you like to count the churches;
they look like spots of chalk on a green board." The green board was the name he gave to the
green fields and meadows.
"It was very rude of me not to say good-bye to your mother and your brothers," said the
44
prince.
"They will excuse you, as you were asleep," said the East Wind; and then they flew on faster
than ever.
The leaves and branches of the trees rustled as they passed. When they flew over seas and
lakes, the waves rose higher, and the large ships dipped into the water like diving swans. As
darkness came on, towards evening, the great towns looked charming; lights were sparkling,
now seen now hidden, just as the sparks go out one after another on a piece of burnt paper.
The prince clapped his hands with pleasure; but the East Wind advised him not to express his
admiration in that manner, or he might fall
down, and find himself hanging on a church
steeple. The eagle in the dark forests flies
swiftly; but faster than he flew the East
Wind. The Cossack, on his small horse,
rides lightly o'er the plains; but lighter still
passed the prince on the winds of the wind.
PLACE
ADVERT
"There are the Himalayas, the highest
mountains in Asia," said the East Wind.
"We shall soon reach the garden of paradise
now."
Then, they turned southward, and the air
became fragrant with the perfume of spices
and flowers. Here figs and pomegranates
grew wild, and the vines were covered with
clusters of blue and purple grapes. Here they
both descended to the earth, and stretched
themselves on the soft grass, while the
flowers bowed to the breath of the wind as if
to welcome it. "Are we now in the garden of
paradise?" asked the prince.
"No, indeed," replied the East Wind; "but we shall be there very soon. Do you see that wall of
rocks, and the cavern beneath it, over which the grape vines hang like a green curtain?
Through that cavern we must pass. Wrap your cloak round you; for while the sun scorches
you here, a few steps farther it will be icy cold. The bird flying past the entrance to the cavern
feels as if one wing were in the region of summer, and the other in the depths of winter."
"So this then is the way to the garden of paradise?" asked the prince, as they entered the
cavern. It was indeed cold; but the cold soon passed, for the East Wind spread his wings, and
they gleamed like the brightest fire. As they passed on through this wonderful cave, the
prince could see great blocks of stone, from which water trickled, hanging over their heads in
45
fantastic shapes. Sometimes it was so narrow that they had to creep on their hands and knees,
while at other times it was lofty and wide, like the free air. It had the appearance of a chapel
for the dead, with petrified organs and silent pipes. "We seem to be passing through the
valley of death to the garden of paradise," said the prince.
But the East Wind answered not a word, only pointed forwards to a lovely blue light which
gleamed in the distance. The blocks of stone assumed a misty appearance, till at last they
looked like white clouds in moonlight. The air was fresh and balmy, like a breeze from the
mountains perfumed with flowers from a valley of roses. A river, clear as the air itself,
sparkled at their feet, while in its clear depths could be seen gold and silver fish sporting in
the bright water, and purple eels emitting
sparks of fire at every moment, while the
broad leaves of the water-lilies, that floated
on its surface, flickered with all the colors of
the rainbow. The flower in its color of flame
seemed to receive its nourishment from the
water, as a lamp is sustained by oil. A
marble bridge, of such exquisite
workmanship that it appeared as if formed
of lace and pearls, led to the island of
happiness, in which bloomed the garden of
paradise. The East Wind took the prince in
his arms, and carried him over, while the
flowers and the leaves sang the sweet songs
of his childhood in tones so full and soft that
no human voice could venture to imitate.
Within the garden grew large trees, full of
sap; but whether they were palm-trees or
gigantic water-plants, the prince knew not.
The climbing plants hung in garlands of
green and gold, like the illuminations on the
margins of old missals or twined among the
initial letters. Birds, flowers, and festoons
appeared intermingled in seeming
confusion. Close by, on the grass, stood a group of peacocks, with radiant tails outspread to
the sun. The prince touched them, and found, to his surprise, that they were not really birds,
but the leaves of the burdock tree, which shone with the colors of a peacock's tail. The lion
and the tiger, gentle and tame, were springing about like playful cats among the green bushes,
whose perfume was like the fragrant blossom of the olive. The plumage of the wood-pigeon
glistened like pearls as it struck the lion's mane with its wings; while the antelope, usually so
shy, stood near, nodding its head as if it wished to join in the frolic. The fairy of paradise next
made her appearance. Her raiment shone like the sun, and her serene countenance beamed
with happiness like that of a mother rejoicing over her child. She was young and beautiful,
and a train of lovely maidens followed her, each wearing a bright star in her hair. The East
PLACE
ADVERT
46
Wind gave her the palm-leaf, on which was written the history of the phoenix; and her eyes
sparkled with joy. She then took the prince by the hand, and led him into her palace, the walls
of which were richly colored, like a tulip-leaf when it is turned to the sun. The roof had the
appearance of an inverted flower, and the colors grew deeper and brighter to the gazer. The
prince walked to a window, and saw what appeared to be the tree of knowledge of good and
evil, with Adam and Eve standing by, and the serpent near them. "I thought they were
banished from paradise," he said. The princess smiled, and told him that time had engraved
each event on a window-pane in the form of a picture; but, unlike other pictures, all that it
represented lived and moved,—the leaves rustled, and the persons went and came, as in a
looking-glass. He looked through another pane, and saw the ladder in Jacob's dream, on
which the angels were ascending and
descending with outspread wings. All that
had ever happened in the world here lived
and moved on the panes of glass, in pictures
such as time alone could produce. The fairy
now led the prince into a large, lofty room
with transparent walls, through which the
light shone. Here were portraits, each one
appearing more beautiful than the other—
millions of happy beings, whose laughter
and song mingled in one sweet melody:
some of these were in such an elevated
position that they appeared smaller than the
smallest rosebud, or like pencil dots on
paper. In the centre of the hall stood a tree,
with drooping branches, from which hung
golden apples, both great and small, looking
like oranges amid the green leaves. It was
the tree of knowledge of good and evil, from
which Adam and Eve had plucked and eaten
the forbidden fruit, and from each leaf
trickled a bright red dewdrop, as if the tree
were weeping tears of blood for their sin.
"Let us now take the boat," said the fairy: "a
sail on the cool waters will refresh us. But we shall not move from the spot, although the boat
may rock on the swelling water; the countries of the world will glide before us, but we shall
remain still."
PLACE
ADVERT
It was indeed wonderful to behold. First came the lofty Alps, snow-clad, and covered with
clouds and dark pines. The horn resounded, and the shepherds sang merrily in the valleys.
The banana-trees bent their drooping branches over the boat, black swans floated on the
water, and singular animals and flowers appeared on the distant shore. New Holland, the fifth
division of the world, now glided by, with mountains in the background, looking blue in the
distance. They heard the song of the priests, and saw the wild dance of the savage to the
47
sound of the drums and trumpets of bone; the pyramids of Egypt rising to the clouds;
columns and sphinxes, overthrown and buried in the sand, followed in their turn; while the
northern lights flashed out over the extinguished volcanoes of the north, in fireworks none
could imitate.
The prince was delighted, and yet he saw hundreds of other wonderful things more than can
be described. "Can I stay here forever?" asked he.
"That depends upon yourself," replied the fairy. "If you do not, like Adam, long for what is
forbidden, you can remain here always."
"I should not touch the fruit on the tree of
knowledge," said the prince; "there is
abundance of fruit equally beautiful."
"Examine your own heart," said the
princess, "and if you do not feel sure of its
strength, return with the East Wind who
brought you. He is about to fly back, and
will not return here for a hundred years. The
time will not seem to you more than a
hundred hours, yet even that is a long time
for temptation and resistance. Every
evening, when I leave you, I shall be
obliged to say, 'Come with me,' and to
beckon to you with my hand. But you must
not listen, nor move from your place to
follow me; for with every step you will find
your power to resist weaker. If once you
attempted to follow me, you would soon
find yourself in the hall, where grows the
tree of knowledge, for I sleep beneath its
perfumed branches. If you stooped over me,
I should be forced to smile. If you then
kissed my lips, the garden of paradise would sink into the earth, and to you it would be lost.
A keen wind from the desert would howl around you; cold rain fall on your head, and sorrow
and woe be your future lot."
PLACE
ADVERT
"I will remain," said the prince.
So the East Wind kissed him on the forehead, and said, "Be firm; then shall we meet again
when a hundred years have passed. Farewell, farewell." Then the East Wind spread his broad
pinions, which shone like the lightning in harvest, or as the northern lights in a cold winter.
48
"Farewell, farewell," echoed the trees and the flowers.
Storks and pelicans flew after him in feathery bands, to accompany him to the boundaries of
the garden.
"Now we will commence dancing," said the fairy; "and when it is nearly over at sunset, while
I am dancing with you, I shall make a sign, and ask you to follow me: but do not obey. I shall
be obliged to repeat the same thing for a hundred years; and each time, when the trial is past,
if you resist, you will gain strength, till resistance becomes easy, and at last the temptation
will be quite overcome. This evening, as it will be the first time, I have warned you."
After this the fairy led him into a large hall,
filled with transparent lilies. The yellow
stamina of each flower formed a tiny golden
harp, from which came forth strains of
music like the mingled tones of flute and
lyre. Beautiful maidens, slender and
graceful in form, and robed in transparent
gauze, floated through the dance, and sang
of the happy life in the garden of paradise,
where death never entered, and where all
would bloom forever in immortal youth. As
the sun went down, the whole heavens
became crimson and gold, and tinted the
lilies with the hue of roses. Then the
beautiful maidens offered to the prince
sparkling wine; and when he had drank, he
felt happiness greater than he had ever
known before. Presently the background of
the hall opened and the tree of knowledge
appeared, surrounded by a halo of glory that
almost blinded him. Voices, soft and lovely
as his mother's sounded in his ears, as if she
were singing to him, "My child, my beloved
child." Then the fairy beckoned to him, and said in sweet accents, "Come with me, come with
me." Forgetting his promise, forgetting it even on the very first evening, he rushed towards
her, while she continued to beckon to him and to smile. The fragrance around him
overpowered his senses, the music from the harps sounded more entrancing, while around the
tree appeared millions of smiling faces, nodding and singing. "Man should know everything;
man is the lord of the earth." The tree of knowledge no longer wept tears of blood, for the
dewdrops shone like glittering stars.
PLACE
ADVERT
"Come, come," continued that thrilling voice, and the prince followed the call. At every step
his cheeks glowed, and the blood rushed wildly through his veins. "I must follow," he cried;
49
"it is not a sin, it cannot be, to follow beauty and joy. I only want to see her sleep, and
nothing will happen unless I kiss her, and that I will not do, for I have strength to resist, and a
determined will."
The fairy threw off her dazzling attire, bent back the boughs, and in another moment was
hidden among them.
"I have not sinned yet," said the prince, "and I will not;" and then he pushed aside the boughs
to follow the princess. She was lying already asleep, beautiful as only a fairy in the garden of
paradise could be. She smiled as he bent over her, and he saw tears trembling out of her
beautiful eyelashes. "Do you weep for me?"
he whispered. "Oh weep not, thou loveliest
of women. Now do I begin to understand the
happiness of paradise; I feel it to my inmost
soul, in every thought. A new life is born
within me. One moment of such happiness
is worth an eternity of darkness and woe."
He stooped and kissed the tears from her
eyes, and touched her lips with his.
PLACE
ADVERT
A clap of thunder, loud and awful,
resounded through the trembling air. All
around him fell into ruin. The lovely fairy,
the beautiful garden, sunk deeper and
deeper. The prince saw it sinking down in
the dark night till it shone only like a star in
the distance beneath him. Then he felt a
coldness, like death, creeping over him; his
eyes closed, and he became insensible.
When he recovered, a chilling rain was
beating upon him, and a sharp wind blew on
his head. "Alas! what have I done?" he
sighed; "I have sinned like Adam, and the
garden of paradise has sunk into the earth." He opened his eyes, and saw the star in the
distance, but it was the morning star in heaven which glittered in the darkness.
Presently he stood up and found himself in the depths of the forest, close to the cavern of the
Winds, and the mother of the Winds sat by his side. She looked angry, and raised her arm in
the air as she spoke. "The very first evening!" she said. "Well, I expected it! If you were my
son, you should go into the sack."
"And there he will have to go at last," said a strong old man, with large black wings, and a
scythe in his hand, whose name was Death. "He shall be laid in his coffin, but not yet. I will
allow him to wander about the world for a while, to atone for his sin, and to give him time to
50
become better. But I shall return when he least expects me. I shall lay him in a black coffin,
place it on my head, and fly away with it beyond the stars. There also blooms a garden of
paradise, and if he is good and pious he will be admitted; but if his thoughts are bad, and his
heart is full of sin, he will sink with his coffin deeper than the garden of paradise has sunk.
Once in every thousand years I shall go and fetch him, when he will either be condemned to
sink still deeper, or be raised to a happier life in the world beyond the stars."
51
THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE
Far away towards the east, in India, which seemed in those days the world's end, stood
the Tree of the Sun; a noble tree, such as we have never seen, and perhaps never may
see.
The summit of this tree spread itself for miles like an entire forest, each of its smaller
branches forming a complete tree. Palms, beech-trees, pines, plane-trees, and various
other kinds, which are found in all parts of the world, were here like small branches,
shooting forth from the great tree; while the larger boughs, with their knots and curves,
formed valleys and hills, clothed with
velvety green and covered with
flowers. Everywhere it was like a
blooming meadow or a lovely
garden. Here were birds from all
quarters of the world assembled
together; birds from the primeval
forests of America, from the rose
gardens of Damascus, and from the
deserts of Africa, in which the
elephant and the lion may boast of
being the only rulers. Birds from the
Polar regions came flying here, and
of course the stork and the swallow
were not absent. But the birds were
not the only living creatures. There
were stags, squirrels, antelopes, and
hundreds of other beautiful and lightfooted animals here found a home.
PLACE
ADVERT
The summit of the tree was a widespreading garden, and in the midst of
it, where the green boughs formed a
kind of hill, stood a castle of crystal,
with a view from it towards every
quarter of heaven. Each tower was
erected in the form of a lily, and
within the stern was a winding
staircase, through which one could ascend to the top and step out upon the leaves as
upon balconies. The calyx of the flower itself formed a most beautiful, glittering,
circular hall, above which no other roof arose than the blue firmament and the sun and
stars.
Just as much splendor, but of another kind, appeared below, in the wide halls of the
castle. Here, on the walls, were reflected pictures of the world, which represented
52
numerous and varied scenes of everything that took place daily, so that it was useless
to read the newspapers, and indeed there were none to be obtained in this spot. All was
to be seen in living pictures by those who wished it, but all would have been too much
for even the wisest man, and this man dwelt here. His name is very difficult; you
would not be able to pronounce it, so it may be omitted. He knew everything that a
man on earth can know or imagine. Every invention already in existence or yet to be,
was known to him, and much more; still everything on earth has a limit. The wise king
Solomon was not half so wise as this man. He could govern the powers of nature and
held sway over potent spirits; even Death itself was obliged to give him every morning
a list of those who were to die during the day. And King Solomon himself had to die at
last, and this fact it was which so often occupied the thoughts of this great man in the
castle on the Tree of the Sun. He knew that he also, however high he might tower
above other men in wisdom, must one day die. He knew that his children would fade
away like the leaves of the forest and become dust. He saw the human race wither and
fall like leaves from the tree; he saw new men come to fill their places, but the leaves
that fell off never sprouted forth again; they crumbled to dust or were absorbed into
other plants.
"What happens to man," asked the wise man of himself, "when touched by the angel of
death? What can death be? The body decays, and the soul. Yes; what is the soul, and
whither does it go?"
"To eternal life," says the comforting voice of religion.
"But what is this change? Where and how shall we exist?"
"Above; in heaven," answers the pious man; "it is there we hope to go."
"Above!" repeated the wise man, fixing his eyes upon the moon and stars above him.
He saw that to this earthly sphere above and below were constantly changing places,
and that the position varied according to the spot on which a man found himself. He
knew, also, that even if he ascended to the top of the highest mountain which rears its
lofty summit on this earth, the air, which to us seems clear and transparent, would there
be dark and cloudy; the sun would have a coppery glow and send forth no rays, and our
earth would lie beneath him wrapped in an orange-colored mist. How narrow are the
limits which confine the bodily sight, and how little can be seen by the eye of the soul.
How little do the wisest among us know of that which is so important to us all.
In the most secret chamber of the castle lay the greatest treasure on earth—the Book of
Truth. The wise man had read it through page after page. Every man may read in this
book, but only in fragments. To many eyes the characters seem so mixed in confusion
that the words cannot be distinguished. On certain pages the writing often appears so
pale or so blurred that the page becomes a blank. The wiser a man becomes, the more
he will read, and those who are wisest read most.
The wise man knew how to unite the sunlight and the moonlight with the light of
reason and the hidden powers of nature; and through this stronger light, many things in
the pages were made clear to him. But in the portion of the book entitled "Life after
Death" not a single point could he see distinctly. This pained him. Should he never be
able here on earth to obtain a light by which everything written in the Book of Truth
53
should become clear to him? Like the wise King Solomon, he understood the language
of animals, and could interpret their talk into song; but that made him none the wiser.
He found out the nature of plants and metals, and their power in curing diseases and
arresting death, but none to destroy death itself. In all created things within his reach
he sought the light that should shine upon the certainty of an eternal life, but he found
it not. The Book of Truth lay open before him, but, its pages were to him as blank
paper. Christianity placed before him in the Bible a promise of eternal life, but he
wanted to read it in his book, in which nothing on the subject appeared to be written.
He had five children; four sons, educated as the children of such a wise father should
be, and a daughter, fair, gentle, and
intelligent, but she was blind; yet this
deprivation appeared as nothing to
her; her father and brothers were
outward eyes to her, and a vivid
imagination made everything clear
to her mental sight. The sons had
never gone farther from the castle
than the branches of the trees
extended, and the sister had scarcely
ever left home. They were happy
children in that home of their
childhood, the beautiful and
fragrant Tree of the Sun. Like all
children, they loved to hear stories
related to them, and their father told
them many things which other
children would not have
understood; but these were as clever
as most grownup people are among
us. He explained to them what they
saw in the pictures of life on the
castle walls—the doings of man,
and the progress of events in all the
lands of the earth; and the sons
often expressed a wish that they
could be present, and take a part in
these great deeds. Then their father
told them that in the world there
was nothing but toil and difficulty:
that it was not quite what it
appeared to them, as they looked upon it in their beautiful home. He spoke to them of
the true, the beautiful, and the good, and told them that these three held together in the
world, and by that union they became crystallized into a precious jewel, clearer than a
diamond of the first water—a jewel, whose splendor had a value even in the sight of
God, in whose brightness all things are dim. This jewel was called the philosopher's
stone. He told them that, by searching, man could attain to a knowledge of the
existence of God, and that it was in the power of every man to discover the certainty
that such a jewel as the philosopher's stone really existed. This information would have
been beyond the perception of other children; but these children understood, and others
PLACE
ADVERT
54
will learn to comprehend its meaning after a time. They questioned their father about
the true, the beautiful, and the good, and he explained it to them in many ways. He told
them that God, when He made man out of the dust of the earth, touched His work five
times, leaving five intense feelings, which we call the five senses. Through these, the
true, the beautiful, and the good are seen, understood, and perceived, and through these
they are valued, protected, and encouraged. Five senses have been given mentally and
corporeally, inwardly and outwardly, to body and soul.
The children thought deeply on all these things, and meditated upon them day and
night. Then the eldest of the brothers dreamt a splendid dream. Strange to say, not only
the second brother but also the third
and fourth brothers all dreamt
exactly the same thing; namely, that
each went out into the world to find
the philosopher's stone. Each dreamt
that he found it, and that, as he rode
back on his swift horse, in the
morning dawn, over the velvety
green meadows, to his home in the
castle of his father, that the stone
gleamed from his forehead like a
beaming light; and threw such a
bright radiance upon the pages of the
Book of Truth that every word was
illuminated which spoke of the life
beyond the grave. But the sister had
no dream of going out into the wide
world; it never entered her mind. Her
world was her father's house.
PLACE
ADVERT
"I shall ride forth into the wide
world," said the eldest brother. "I
must try what life is like there, as I
mix with men. I will practise only
the good and true; with these I will
protect the beautiful. Much shall be
changed for the better while I am
there."
Now these thoughts were great and daring, as our thoughts generally are at home,
before we have gone out into the world, and encountered its storms and tempests, its
thorns and its thistles. In him, and in all his brothers, the five senses were highly
cultivated, inwardly and outwardly; but each of them had one sense which in keenness
and development surpassed the other four. In the case of the eldest, this pre-eminent
sense was sight, which he hoped would be of special service. He had eyes for all times
and all people; eyes that could discover in the depths of the earth hidden treasures, and
look into the hearts of men, as through a pane of glass; he could read more than is
often seen on the cheek that blushes or grows pale, in the eye that droops or smiles.
Stags and antelopes accompanied him to the western boundary of his home, and there
he found the wild swans. These he followed, and found himself far away in the north,
55
far from the land of his father, which extended eastward to the ends of the earth. How
he opened his eyes with astonishment! How many things were to be seen here! and so
different to the mere representation of pictures such as those in his father's house. At
first he nearly lost his eyes in astonishment at the rubbish and mockery brought
forward to represent the beautiful; but he kept his eyes, and soon found full
employment for them. He wished to go thoroughly and honestly to work in his
endeavor to understand the true, the beautiful, and the good. But how were they
represented in the world? He observed that the wreath which rightly belonged to the
beautiful was often given the hideous; that the good was often passed by unnoticed,
while mediocrity was applauded, when it should have been hissed. People look at the
dress, not at the wearer; thought more of a name than of doing their duty; and trusted
more to reputation than to real service. It was everywhere the same.
PLACE
ADVERT
"I see I must make a regular attack on
these things," said he; and he
accordingly did not spare them. But
while looking for the truth, came the
evil one, the father of lies, to intercept
him. Gladly would the fiend have
plucked out the eyes of this Seer, but
that would have been a too
straightforward path for him; he
works more cunningly. He allowed
the young man to seek for, and
discover, the beautiful and the good;
but while he was contemplating them,
the evil spirit blew one mote after
another into each of his eyes; and
such a proceeding would injure the
strongest sight. Then he blew upon
the motes, and they became beams, so
that the clearness of his sight was
gone, and the Seer was like a blind
man in the world, and had no longer
any faith in it. He had lost his good
opinion of the world, as well as of
himself; and when a man gives up the
world, and himself too, it is all over
with him.
"All over," said the wild swan, who flew across the sea to the east.
"All over," twittered the swallows, who were also flying eastward towards the Tree of
the Sun. It was no good news which they carried home.
"I think the Seer has been badly served," said the second brother, "but the Hearer may
be more successful."
This one possessed the sense of hearing to a very high degree: so acute was this sense,
that it was said he could hear the grass grow. He took a fond leave of all at home, and
56
rode away, provided with good abilities and good intentions. The swallows escorted
him, and he followed the swans till he found himself out in the world, and far away
from home. But he soon discovered that one may have too much of a good thing. His
hearing was too fine. He not only heard the grass grow, but could hear every man's
heart beat, whether in sorrow or in joy. The whole world was to him like a
clockmaker's great workshop, in which all the clocks were going "tick, tick," and all
the turret clocks striking "ding, dong." It was unbearable. For a long time his ears
endured it, but at last all the noise and tumult became too much for one man to bear.
There were rascally boys of sixty years old—for years do not alone make a man—who
raised a tumult, which might have made the Hearer laugh, but for the applause which
followed, echoing through every street and house, and was even heard in country
roads. Falsehood thrust itself forward and played the hypocrite; the bells on the fool's
cap jingled, and declared they were church-bells, and the noise became so bad for the
Hearer that he thrust his fingers into
his ears. Still, he could hear false
notes and bad singing, gossip and
idle words, scandal and slander,
groaning and moaning, without and
within. "Heaven help us!" He thrust
his fingers farther and farther into his
ears, till at last the drums burst. And
now he could hear nothing more of
the true, the beautiful, and the good;
for his hearing was to have been the
means by which he hoped to acquire
his knowledge. He became silent and
suspicious, and at last trusted no one,
not even himself, and no longer
hoping to find and bring home the
costly jewel, he gave it up, and gave
himself up too, which was worse
than all.
PLACE
ADVERT
The birds in their flight towards the
east, carried the tidings, and the news
reached the castle in the Tree of the
Sun.
"I will try now," said the third
brother; "I have a keen nose." Now
that was not a very elegant expression, but it was his way, and we must take him as he
was. He had a cheerful temper, and was, besides, a real poet; he could make many
things appear poetical, by the way in which he spoke of them, and ideas struck him
long before they occurred to the minds of others. "I can smell," he would say; and he
attributed to the sense of smelling, which he possessed in a high degree, a great power
in the region of the beautiful. "I can smell," he would say, "and many places are
fragrant or beautiful according to the taste of the frequenters. One man feels at home in
the atmosphere of the tavern, among the flaring tallow candles, and when the smell of
spirits mingles with the fumes of bad tobacco. Another prefers sitting amidst the
57
overpowering scent of jasmine, or perfuming himself with scented olive oil. This man
seeks the fresh sea breeze, while that one climbs the lofty mountain-top, to look down
upon the busy life in miniature beneath him."
As he spoke in this way, it seemed as if he had already been out in the world, as if he
had already known and associated with man. But this experience was intuitive—it was
the poetry within him, a gift from Heaven bestowed on him in his cradle. He bade
farewell to his parental roof in the Tree of the Sun, and departed on foot, from the
pleasant scenes that surrounded his home. Arrived at its confines, he mounted on the
back of an ostrich, which runs faster than a horse, and afterwards, when he fell in with
the wild swans, he swung himself on the strongest of them, for he loved change, and
away he flew over the sea to distant lands, where there were great forests, deep lakes,
lofty mountains, and proud cities.
Wherever he came it seemed as if
sunshine travelled with him across
the fields, for every flower, every
bush, exhaled a renewed fragrance, as
if conscious that a friend and
protector was near; one who
understood them, and knew their
value. The stunted rose-bush shot
forth twigs, unfolded its leaves, and
bore the most beautiful roses; every
one could see it, and even the black,
slimy wood-snail noticed its beauty.
"I will give my seal to the flower,"
said the snail, "I have trailed my
slime upon it, I can do no more.
PLACE
ADVERT
"Thus it always fares with the
beautiful in this world," said the poet.
And he made a song upon it, and
sung it after his own fashion, but
nobody listened. Then he gave a
drummer two pence and a peacock's
feather, and composed a song for the
drum, and the drummer beat it
through the streets of the town, and
when the people heard it they said,
"That is a capital tune." The poet
wrote many songs about the true, the
beautiful, and the good. His songs
were listened to in the tavern, where the tallow candles flared, in the fresh clover field,
in the forest, and on the high-seas; and it appeared as if this brother was to be more
fortunate than the other two.
But the evil spirit was angry at this, so he set to work with soot and incense, which he
can mix so artfully as to confuse an angel, and how much more easily a poor poet. The
evil one knew how to manage such people. He so completely surrounded the poet with
incense that the man lost his head, forgot his mission and his home, and at last lost
58
himself and vanished in smoke.
But when the little birds heard of it, they mourned, and for three days they sang not
one song. The black wood-snail became blacker still; not for grief, but for envy. "They
should have offered me incense," he said, "for it was I who gave him the idea of the
most famous of his songs—the drum song of 'The Way of the World;' and it was I who
spat at the rose; I can bring a witness to that fact."
But no tidings of all this reached the poet's home in India. The birds had all been silent
for three days, and when the time of mourning was over, so deep had been their grief,
that they had forgotten for whom they wept. Such is the way of the world.
"Now I must go out into the world,
and disappear like the rest," said the
fourth brother. He was as goodtempered as the third, but no poet,
though he could be witty.
The two eldest had filled the castle
with joyfulness, and now the last
brightness was going away. Sight
and hearing have always been
considered two of the chief senses
among men, and those which they
wish to keep bright; the other senses
are looked upon as of less
importance.
PLACE
ADVERT
But the younger son had a different
opinion; he had cultivated his taste
in every way, and taste is very
powerful. It rules over what goes
into the mouth, as well as overall
which is presented to the mind; and,
consequently, this brother took upon
himself to taste everything stored up
in bottles or jars; this he called the
rough part of his work. Every man's
mind was to him as a vessel in which
something was concocting; every
land a kind of mental kitchen. "There
are no delicacies here," he said; so he
wished to go out into the world to find something delicate to suit his taste. "Perhaps
fortune may be more favorable to me than it was to my brothers. I shall start on my
travels, but what conveyance shall I choose? Are air balloons invented yet?" he asked
of his father, who knew of all inventions that had been made, or would be made.
Air balloons had not then been invented, nor steam-ships, nor railways.
"Good," said he; "then I shall choose an air balloon; my father knows how they are to
59
be made and guided. Nobody has invented one yet, and the people will believe that it is
an aerial phantom. When I have done with the balloon I shall burn it, and for this
purpose, you must give me a few pieces of another invention, which will come next; I
mean a few chemical matches."
He obtained what he wanted, and flew away. The birds accompanied him farther than
they had the other brothers. They were curious to know how this flight would end.
Many more of them came swooping down; they thought it must be some new bird, and
he soon had a goodly company of
followers. They came in clouds till
the air became darkened with birds
as it was with the cloud of locusts
over the land of Egypt.
And now he was out in the wide
world. The balloon descended over
one of the greatest cities, and the
aeronaut took up his station at the
highest point, on the church steeple.
The balloon rose again into the air,
which it ought not to have done;
what became of it is not known,
neither is it of any consequence, for
balloons had not then been invented.
PLACE
ADVERT
There he sat on the church steeple.
The birds no longer hovered over
him; they had got tired of him, and
he was tired of them. All the
chimneys in the town were smoking.
"There are altars erected to my
honor," said the wind, who wished to
say something agreeable to him as
he sat there boldly looking down
upon the people in the street. There
was one stepping along, proud of his
purse; another, of the key he carried
behind him, though he had nothing
to lock up; another took a pride in
his moth-eaten coat; and another, in his mortified body. "Vanity, all vanity!" he
exclaimed. "I must go down there by-and-by, and touch and taste; but I shall sit here a
little while longer, for the wind blows pleasantly at my back. I shall remain here as
long as the wind blows, and enjoy a little rest. It is comfortable to sleep late in the
morning when one had a great deal to do," said the sluggard; "so I shall stop here as
long as the wind blows, for it pleases me."
And there he stayed. But as he was sitting on the weather-cock of the steeple, which
kept turning round and round with him, he was under the false impression that the
same wind still blew, and that he could stay where he was without expense.
60
But in India, in the castle on the Tree of the Sun, all was solitary and still, since the
brothers had gone away one after the other.
"Nothing goes well with them," said the father; "they will never bring the glittering
jewel home, it is not made for me; they are all dead and gone." Then he bent down
over the Book of Truth, and gazed on the page on which he should have read of the life
after death, but for him there was nothing to be read or learned upon it.
His blind daughter was his
consolation and joy; she clung to
him with sincere affection, and for
the sake of his happiness and peace
she wished the costly jewel could be
found and brought home.
PLACE
ADVERT
With longing tenderness she thought
of her brothers. Where were they?
Where did they live? How she
wished she might dream of them; but
it was strange that not even in
dreams could she be brought near to
them. But at last one night she
dreamt that she heard the voices of
her brothers calling to her from the
distant world, and she could not
refrain herself, but went out to them,
and yet it seemed in her dream that
she still remained in her father's
house. She did not see her brothers,
but she felt as it were a fire burning
in her hand, which, however, did not
hurt her, for it was the jewel she was
bringing to her father. When she
awoke she thought for a moment that
she still held the stone, but she only
grasped the knob of her distaff.
During the long evenings she had
spun constantly, and round the distaff
were woven threads finer than the web of a spider; human eyes could never have
distinguished these threads when separated from each other. But she had wetted them
with her tears, and the twist was as strong as a cable. She rose with the impression that
her dream must be a reality, and her resolution was taken.
It was still night, and her father slept; she pressed a kiss upon his hand, and then took
her distaff and fastened the end of the thread to her father's house. But for this, blind as
she was, she would never have found her way home again; to this thread she must hold
fast, and trust not to others or even to herself. From the Tree of the Sun she broke four
leaves; which she gave up to the wind and the weather, that they might be carried to
61
her brothers as letters and a greeting, in case she did not meet them in the wide world.
Poor blind child, what would become of her in those distant regions? But she had the
invisible thread, to which she could hold fast; and she possessed a gift which all the
others lacked. This was a determination to throw herself entirely into whatever she
undertook, and it made her feel as if she had eyes even at the tips of her fingers, and
could hear down into her very heart. Quietly she went forth into the noisy, bustling,
wonderful world, and wherever she
went the skies grew bright, and she
felt the warm sunbeam, and a rainbow
above in the blue heavens seemed to
span the dark world. She heard the
song of the birds, and smelt the scent
of the orange groves and apple
orchards so strongly that she seemed
to taste it. Soft tones and charming
songs reached her ear, as well as
harsh sounds and rough words—
thoughts and opinions in strange
contradiction to each other. Into the
deepest recesses of her heart
penetrated the echoes of human
thoughts and feelings. Now she heard
the following words sadly sung,—
PLACE
ADVERT
"Life is a shadow that flits away
In a night of darkness and woe."
But then would follow brighter
thoughts:
"Life has the rose's sweet perfume
With sunshine, light, and joy."
And if one stanza sounded
painfully—
"Each mortal thinks of himself alone,
Is a truth, alas, too clearly known;"
Then, on the other hand, came the
answer—
"Love, like a mighty flowing stream,
Fills every heart with its radiant gleam."
She heard, indeed, such words as these—
"In the pretty turmoil here below,
All is a vain and paltry show.
Then came also words of comfort—
"Great and good are the actions done
By many whose worth is never known."
And if sometimes the mocking strain reached her—
62
"Why not join in the jesting cry
That contemns all gifts from the throne on high?"
In the blind girl's heart a stronger voice repeated—
"To trust in thyself and God is best,
In His holy will forever to rest."
PLACE
PLACE
ADVERT
ADVERT
But the evil spirit could not see this
and remain contented. He has more
cleverness than ten thousand men,
and he found means to compass his
end. He betook himself to the marsh,
and collected a few little bubbles of
stagnant water. Then he uttered over
them the echoes of lying words that
they might become strong. He mixed
up together songs of praise with
lying epitaphs, as many as he could
find, boiled them in tears shed by
envy; put upon them rouge, which he
had scraped from faded cheeks, and
from these he produced a maiden, in
form and appearance like the blind
girl, the angel of completeness, as
men called her. The evil one's plot
was successful. The world knew not
which was the true, and indeed how
should the world know?
"To trust in thyself and God is best,
In his Holy will forever to rest."
So sung the blind girl in full faith.
She had entrusted the four green
leaves from the Tree of the Sun to
the winds, as letters of greeting to her brothers, and she had full confidence that the
leaves would reach them. She fully believed that the jewel which outshines all the
glories of the world would yet be found, and that upon the forehead of humanity it
would glitter even in the castle of her father. "Even in my father's house," she repeated.
"Yes, the place in which this jewel is to be found is earth, and I shall bring more than
the promise of it with me. I feel it glow and swell more and more in my closed hand.
Every grain of truth which the keen wind carried up and whirled towards me I caught
and treasured. I allowed it to be penetrated with the fragrance of the beautiful, of which
there is so much in the world, even for the blind. I took the beatings of a heart engaged
in a good action, and added them to my treasure. All that I can bring is but dust; still, it
is a part of the jewel we seek, and there is plenty, my hand is quite full of it."
She soon found herself again at home; carried thither in a flight of thought, never
having loosened her hold of the invisible thread fastened to her father's house. As she
stretched out her hand to her father, the powers of evil dashed with the fury of a
63
hurricane over the Tree of the Sun; a blast of wind rushed through the open doors, and
into the sanctuary, where lay the Book of Truth.
"It will be blown to dust by the wind," said the father, as he seized the open hand she
held towards him.
"No," she replied, with quiet confidence, "it is indestructible. I feel its beam warming
my very soul."
Then her father observed that a dazzling flame gleamed from the white page on which
the shining dust had passed from her hand. It was there to prove the certainty of eternal
life, and on the book glowed one shining word, and only one, the word BELIEVE. And
soon the four brothers were again with the father and daughter. When the green leaf
from home fell on the bosom of each, a longing had seized them to return. They had
arrived, accompanied by the birds of passage, the stag, the antelope, and all the
creatures of the forest who wished to take part in their joy.
We have often seen, when a sunbeam burst through a crack in the door into a dusty
room, how a whirling column of dust seems to circle round. But this was not poor,
insignificant, common dust, which the blind girl had brought; even the rainbow's
colors are dim when compared with the beauty which shone from the page on which it
had fallen. The beaming word BELIEVE, from every grain of truth, had the brightness
of the beautiful and the good, more bright than the mighty pillar of flame that led
Moses and the children of Israel to the land of Canaan, and from the word BELIEVE
arose the bridge of hope, reaching even to the un-measurable Love in the realms of the
infinite.
64