them to him. And they all showed him that what they asked in payment was just
one little penny.
But the boy turned both vest and breeches pockets inside out, so they should see
that he owned nothing. Then tears filled the eyes of all these regal merchants,
who were so much richer than he. At last he was moved because they looked so
distressed, and he pondered if he could not in some way help them. And then he
happened to think of the rusty coin, which he had but lately seen on the strand.
He started to run down the street, and luck was with him, so that he came to the
self-same gate that he had happened upon first. He dashed through it, and
commenced to search for the little green copper penny which lay on the strand a
while ago.
He found it too, very promptly; but when he had picked it up, and wanted to run
back to the city with it ­ he saw only the sea before him. No city wall, no
gate, no sentinels, no streets, no houses were now visible ­ only the sea.
The boy couldn't help that the tears came to his eyes. He had believed in the
beginning, that that which he had seen was only an illusion, but this he had
already forgotten. He only thought how beautiful it all was. He felt a genuine,
deep sorrow because the city had vanished.
That moment Herr Ermenrich awoke, and came up to him. But he didn't hear him,
and the stork had to poke the boy with his bill to attract attention to himself.
"I believe that you stand here and sleep the way I do," said Herr Ermenrich.
"Oh, Herr Ermenrich!" the boy exclaimed. "What was that city which stood here
just now?"
"Have you seen a city?" questioned the stork. "You have slept and dreamt I say."
"No! I have not dreamt," said Thumbietot, and he told the stork all that he had
experienced.
Then Herr Ermenrich said: "For my part, Thumbietot, I believe that you fell
asleep here on the strand and dreamed all this. But I will not conceal from you
that Bataki, the raven, who is the most learned of all birds, once told me that
in former times there was a city on this shore, called Vineta. It was so rich
and so fortunate, that no city has ever been more glorious; but its inhabitants,
unluckily, gave themselves up to arrogance and love of display. As a punishment,
says Bataki, the city of Vineta was overtaken by a flood, and sank into the sea.
But these inhabitants cannot die, nor is their city destroyed. And one night in
every hundred years, it rises in all its splendour up from the sea, and remains
on the surface just one hour."
"Yes, it must be so," said Thumbietot, "for this I have seen."
"But when the hour is up, it sinks again into the sea, if, during that time, no
merchant in Vineta has sold anything to a single living creature. If you,
Thumbietot, had only had ever so tiny a coin to pay the merchants, Vineta might
have remained up here on the shore; and its people could have lived and died
like other human beings."
"Herr Ermenrich," said the boy, "now I understand why you came and fetched me in
the middle of the night. It was because you believed that I should be able to
save the old city. I am so sorry it didn't turn out as you wished, Herr
Ermenrich."
He covered his face with his hands and wept. It wasn't easy to say which one
looked the more disconsolate ­ the boy, or Herr Ermenrich.
THE LIVING CITY
Monday, April eleventh.
On Easter Monday, the wild geese and Thumbietot were on the wing. They travelled
over Gottland.
The large island lay smooth and even beneath them. The ground was checked just
as in Skåne and there were many churches and farms.
The wild geese had taken the route over Gottland on account of Thumbietot. He
had not been himself for two days, and had not spoken a cheerful word. This was
because he had thought of nothing but that city which had appeared to him in
such a strange way. He had never seen anything so beautiful, and he could not be
reconciled with himself for having failed to save it. He was not usually
soft-hearted, but now he actually mourned for the beautiful buildings and the
stately people.
Both Akka and the goosey-gander had tried to convince Thumbietot that he was the
victim of a dream or an illusion, but the boy wouldn't listen to anything of the
sort. He was so positive that he had really seen what he had seen that no one
could move him in his conviction. He went about so disconsolate that his
travelling companions became uneasy for him.
Just as the boy was most depressed, old Kaksi came back to the flock. She had
been blown toward Gottland, and compelled to travel over the whole island before
she had learned through some crows that her comrades were on Little Karl's
Island. When Kaksi found out what was wrong with Thumbietot, she said
impulsively:
"If Thumbietot is grieving over an old city, we'll soon be able to comfort him.
Come along, and I'll take you to a place that I saw yesterday! He'll get over
his distress before long."
The geese were soon on their way to the place which Kaksi wished to show
Thumbietot. Blue as he was, he couldn't keep from looking down at the land over
which he travelled, as usual.
He thought it looked as if the whole island had in the beginning been just such
a high, steep cliff as Karl's Island ­ though much bigger of course. But
afterward, it had in some way been flattened out. Some one must have taken a big
rolling-pin over it, as if it had been a lump of dough. Not that the island had
become altogether flat and even, like a bread-cake, for it wasn't like that.
While travelling alongside the coast, he had seen, here and there, white lime
walls with grottoes and crags but in most places the ground was level, and the
shores sank modestly down toward the sea.
In Gottland they had a pleasant and peaceful holiday afternoon. It turned out to
be mild spring weather; the trees had big buds; spring blossoms dressed the
ground in the leafy meadows; the poplars' long, thin pendants swayed; and in the
little gardens, which are to be found around every cottage, the gooseberry
bushes were green.
The warmth and the budding of spring had tempted the people out into the gardens
and roads, and wherever a number of them had come together they played games.
Not only the children played but the grown-ups also. They threw stones at a
given point, and they sent balls so high into the air that they almost touched
the wild geese. It looked cheerful and pleasant to see big folks at play; and
the boy certainly would have enjoyed it had he only been able to forget his
grief and disappointment because of his failure to save the ancient city.
But anyhow, he had to admit that this was a lovely trip. The air was so full of
joy and melody. Little children played ring games and sang as they played. The
Salvation Army was out. He saw a lot of people dressed in black and red sitting
upon a wooded hill, playing on guitars and brass instruments. Down a road came a
great crowd of people. They were Good Templars who had been on a pleasure trip.
He recognized them by the big banners with the gold inscriptions, which waved
above them. They sang song after song as long as he could hear them.
After that the boy could never think of Gottland without thinking of the games
and songs at the same time.
He had been sitting, looking down for a long while; when he happened to raise
his eyes. His amazement was indescribable. Before he was aware of it, the wild
geese had left the interior of the island and gone westward ­ toward the
seacoast. Now the wide, blue sea lay before him. However, it was not the sea
that was remarkable, but a city which appeared on the shore.
The boy was coming from the east, and the sun had just begun to sink in the
west. As he drew nearer the city, its walls and towers and high, gabled houses
and churches stood there quite black against the light evening sky. Therefore he
couldn't see what it was really like, and for a moment or two he believed that
this city was just as beautiful as the one he had seen on Easter-eve.
When he came right up to it, he saw that it was both like and unlike that city
from the bottom of the sea. There was the same contrast between these two cities
as there is between a man whom one sees arrayed in purple and jewels one day,
and another day dressed in rags.
Yes, once upon a time, this city had probably been like the one of which he sat
dreaming. This one was also enclosed by a wall with towers and gates. But the
towers in this city, which had been allowed to remain on land, were roofless,
hollow and empty. The gates were without doors; sentinels and warriors had
disappeared. All the glittering splendour was past and gone. There was nothing
left but the naked, gray stone skeleton.
As the boy came farther into the city, he saw that the larger part of it was
made up of small, low houses; but here and there stood a few high gabled houses
and cathedrals which were from the olden time. The walls of the gabled houses
were painted white, and entirely without ornamentation; but because the boy had
so lately seen the buried city, he seemed to understand how they once had been
decorated: some with statues, and others with black and white marble. And it was
the same with the old cathedrals; they were mostly roofless with bare interiors.
The window openings were empty, the floors grass-grown, and ivy clambered along
the walls. But now he knew how they had looked once upon a time; they had been
covered with images and paintings; the chancel had been adorned with altars and
gilded crosses, and there priests had moved, arrayed in golden vestments.
The boy saw also the narrow streets, which were almost deserted on this holiday
afternoon. He knew, he did, what throngs of stately people had once upon a time
swarmed there!
But that which Nils Holgersson did not see was, that the city even to-day is
both beautiful and quaint. He saw neither the cozy cottages on the side streets,
with their white-trimmed black walls, the red geraniums behind the shining
window-panes, nor the many pretty gardens and avenues, nor the beauty of the
vine-clad ruins. His mind was so filled with the preceding splendour that he
could see no beauty in the present.
The wild geese few back and forth over the city several times, so that
Thumbietot might see everything. Finally, they sank down on the grass-grown
floor of a cathedral ruin, to spend the night.
Long after they had gone to sleep, Thumbietot was still awake and sat gazing up
through the open arches at the evening sky. When he had sat there a while, he
made up his mind not to grieve any more because he hadn't been able to save the
buried city.
No, that he shouldn't do, now that he had seen this one. If the other city had
not sunk into the sea again, then perhaps in time it would have become as
dilapidated as this one. Perhaps it could not have resisted time and decay, but
would have stood there with roofless churches and bare houses and desolate,
empty streets ­ just like this one. Then it was better that it should remain in
all its glory down in the deep.
"What happened was best," thought he. "If I had the power to save the city, I
don't believe that I should care to do it." Then he no longer grieved over that
matter.
And there are doubtless many among the younger generation who think in the same
way. But when people are old, and have accustomed themselves to being satisfied
with little, then they are more happy over the Visby that lives, than over a
magnificent Vineta at the bottom of the sea.
[Next]
Chapter XV.
"Chapter XV." by Selma Lagerlöf (1858-1940), translated by Velma Swanston
Howard.
From: The Wonderful Adventures of Nils. by Selma Lagerlöf. New York: Doubleday,
Page & Company, 1922, pp. 191-212.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE LEGEND OF SMÅLAND
Tuesday, April twelfth.
THE wild geese had made a good trip over the sea, and had alighted in Tjust
Parish, in northern Småland. That parish seemed unable to make up its mind
whether it wanted to be land or sea. Bays ran in everywhere, and cut the land up
into islands and peninsulas and points and capes. The sea was so forceful that
the only things which could hold themselves above it were hills and mountains.
All the lowlands were hidden away under the water.
It was evening when the wild geese came in from the sea; and the land with the
little hills lay prettily between the shimmering bays. Here and there, on the
islands, the boy saw cabins and cottages; and the farther inland he travelled,
the bigger and better became the dwelling houses, till finally, they grew into
large, white manors. Along the shores was a border of trees; and beyond lay
field-plots, and on the tops of the little hills there were more trees. He could
not help but think of Blekinge. Here again was a place where land and sea met in
a charming and peaceful way, trying, as it were, to show each other the best and
loveliest they possessed.
The wild geese alighted upon a barren rock island a good way in Goose Bay. The
first glance at the shore assured them that spring had made rapid strides while
they were on the islands. The big, fine trees were not as yet leaf-clad, but the
ground under them was brocaded with white anemones, gagea, and blue anemones.
When the wild geese saw the flower-carpet they feared that they had lingered too
long in the southern part of the country. Akka immediately remarked that there
was no time in which to look up any of the stopping places in Småland. By the
next morning they must travel northward, over Östergötland.
The boy should then see nothing of Småland, which grieved him. He had heard more
about Småland than about any other province, and he had longed to see it with
