and there was a coat of ice on the water every night.
"What a long time it takes! what a long time it takes!" said the
Flower. "I feel a stirring and striving within me; I must stretch
myself, I must unlock the door, I must get out, and must nod a good
morning to the summer, and what a happy time that will be!"
And the Flower stirred and stretched itself within the thin rind
which the water had softened from without, and the snow and the
earth had warmed, and the Sunbeam had knocked at; and it shot forth
under the snow with a greenish-white blossom on a green stalk, with
narrow thick leaves, which seemed to want to protect it. The snow
was cold, but was pierced by the Sunbeam, therefore it was easy to get
through it, and now the Sunbeam came with greater strength than
before.
"Welcome, welcome!" sang and sounded every ray, and the Flower
lifted itself up over the snow into the brighter world. The Sunbeams
caressed and kissed it, so that it opened altogether, white as snow,
and ornamented with green stripes. It bent its head in joy and
humility.
"Beautiful Flower!" said the Sunbeams, "how graceful and
delicate you are! You are the first, you are the only one! You are our
love! You are the bell that rings out for summer, beautiful summer,
over country and town. All the snow will melt; the cold winds will
be driven away; we shall rule; all will become green, and then you
will have companions, syringas, laburnums, and roses; but you are
the first, so graceful, so delicate!"
That was a great pleasure. It seemed as if the air were singing
and sounding, as if rays of light were piercing through the leaves and
the stalks of the Flower. There it stood, so delicate and so easily
broken, and yet so strong in its young beauty; it stood there in its
white dress with the green stripes, and made a summer. But there was a
long time yet to the summer-time. Clouds hid the sun, and bleak
winds were blowing.
"You have come too early," said Wind and Weather. "We have still
the power, and you shall feel it, and give it up to us. You should
have stayed quietly at home and not have run out to make a display
of yourself. Your time is not come yet!"
It was a cutting cold! The days which now come brought not a
single sunbeam. It was weather that might break such a little Flower
in two with cold. But the Flower had more strength than she herself
knew of. She was strong in joy and in faith in the summer, which would
be sure to come, which had been announced by her deep longing and
confirmed by the warm sunlight; and so she remained standing in
confidence in the snow in her white garment, bending her head even
while the snow-flakes fell thick and heavy, and the icy winds swept
over her.
"You'll break!" they said, "and fade, and fade! What did you
want out here? Why did you let yourself be tempted? The Sunbeam only
made game of you. Now you have what you deserve, you summer gauk."
"Summer gauk!" she repeated in the cold morning hour.
"O summer gauk!" cried some children rejoicingly; "yonder stands
one- how beautiful, how beautiful! The first one, the only one!"
These words did the Flower so much good, they seemed to her like
warm sunbeams. In her joy the Flower did not even feel when it was
broken off. It lay in a child's hand, and was kissed by a child's
mouth, and carried into a warm room, and looked on by gentle eyes, and
put into water. How strengthening, how invigorating! The Flower
thought she had suddenly come upon the summer.
The daughter of the house, a beautiful little girl, was confirmed,
and she had a friend who was confirmed, too. He was studying for an
examination for an appointment. "He shall be my summer gauk," she
said; and she took the delicate Flower and laid it in a piece of
scented paper, on which verses were written, beginning with summer
gauk and ending with summer gauk. "My friend, be a winter gauk." She
had twitted him with the summer. Yes, all this was in the verses,
and the paper was folded up like a letter, and the Flower was folded
in the letter, too. It was dark around her, dark as in those days when
she lay hidden in the bulb. The Flower went forth on her journey,
and lay in the post-bag, and was pressed and crushed, which was not at
all pleasant; but that soon came to an end.
The journey was over; the letter was opened, and read by the
dear friend. How pleased he was! He kissed the letter, and it was
laid, with its enclosure of verses, in a box, in which there were many
beautiful verses, but all of them without flowers; she was the
first, the only one, as the Sunbeams had called her; and it was a
pleasant thing to think of that.
She had time enough, moreover, to think about it; she thought of
it while the summer passed away, and the long winter went by, and
the summer came again, before she appeared once more. But now the
young man was not pleased at all. He took hold of the letter very
roughly, and threw the verses away, so that the Flower fell on the
ground. Flat and faded she certainly was, but why should she be thrown
on the ground? Still, it was better to be here than in the fire, where
the verses and the paper were being burnt to ashes. What had happened?
What happens so often:- the Flower had made a gauk of him, that was
a jest; the girl had made a fool of him, that was no jest, she had,
during the summer, chosen another friend.
Next morning the sun shone in upon the little flattened
Snowdrop, that looked as if it had been painted upon the floor. The
servant girl, who was sweeping out the room, picked it up, and laid it
in one of the books which were upon the table, in the belief that it
must have fallen out while the room was being arranged. Again the
flower lay among verses- printed verses- and they are better than
written ones- at least, more money has been spent upon them.
And after this years went by. The book stood upon the
book-shelf, and then it was taken up and somebody read out of it. It
was a good book; verses and songs by the old Danish poet, Ambrosius
Stub, which are well worth reading. The man who was now reading the
book turned over a page.
"Why, there's a flower!" he said; "a snowdrop, a summer gauk, a
poet gauk! That flower must have been put in there with a meaning!
Poor Ambrosius Stub! he was a summer fool too, a poet fool; he came
too early, before his time, and therefore he had to taste the sharp
winds, and wander about as a guest from one noble landed proprietor to
another, like a flower in a glass of water, a flower in rhymed verses!
Summer fool, winter fool, fun and folly- but the first, the only,
the fresh young Danish poet of those days. Yes, thou shalt remain as a
token in the book, thou little snowdrop: thou hast been put there with
a meaning."
And so the Snowdrop was put back into the book, and felt equally
honored and pleased to know that it was a token in the glorious book
of songs, and that he who was the first to sing and to write had
been also a snowdrop, had been a summer gauk, and had been looked upon
in the winter-time as a fool. The Flower understood this, in her
way, as we interpret everything in our way.
That is the story of the Snowdrop.
THE END
.
1872
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
THE STORKS
by Hans Christian Andersen
ON the last house in a little village the storks had built a nest,
and the mother stork sat in it with her four young ones, who stretched
out their necks and pointed their black beaks, which had not yet
turned red like those of the parent birds. A little way off, on the
edge of the roof, stood the father stork, quite upright and stiff; not
liking to be quite idle, he drew up one leg, and stood on the other,
so still that it seemed almost as if he were carved in wood. "It
must look very grand," thought he, "for my wife to have a sentry
guarding her nest. They do not know that I am her husband; they will
think I have been commanded to stand here, which is quite
aristocratic;" and so he continued standing on one leg.
In the street below were a number of children at play, and when
they caught sight of the storks, one of the boldest amongst the boys
began to sing a song about them, and very soon he was joined by the
rest. These are the words of the song, but each only sang what he
could remember of them in his own way.
"Stork, stork, fly away,
Stand not on one leg, I pray,
See your wife is in her nest,
With her little ones at rest.
They will hang one,
And fry another;
They will shoot a third,
And roast his brother."
"Just hear what those boys are singing," said the young storks;
"they say we shall be hanged and roasted."
"Never mind what they say; you need not listen," said the
mother. "They can do no harm."
But the boys went on singing and pointing at the storks, and
mocking at them, excepting one of the boys whose name was Peter; he
said it was a shame to make fun of animals, and would not join with
them at all. The mother stork comforted her young ones, and told
them not to mind. "See," she said, "How quiet your father stands,
although he is only on one leg."
"But we are very much frightened," said the young storks, and they
drew back their heads into the nests.
The next day when the children were playing together, and saw
the storks, they sang the song again-
"They will hang one,
And roast another."
"Shall we be hanged and roasted?" asked the young storks.
"No, certainly not," said the mother. "I will teach you to fly,
and when you have learnt, we will fly into the meadows, and pay a
visit to the frogs, who will bow themselves to us in the water, and
cry 'Croak, croak,' and then we shall eat them up; that will be fun."
"And what next?" asked the young storks.
"Then," replied the mother, "all the storks in the country will
assemble together, and go through their autumn manoeuvres, so that
it is very important for every one to know how to fly properly. If
they do not, the general will thrust them through with his beak, and
kill them. Therefore you must take pains and learn, so as to be
ready when the drilling begins."
"Then we may be killed after all, as the boys say; and hark!
they are singing again."
"Listen to me, and not to them," said the mother stork. "After the
great review is over, we shall fly away to warm countries far from
hence, where there are mountains and forests. To Egypt, where we shall
see three-cornered houses built of stone, with pointed tops that reach
nearly to the clouds. They are called Pyramids, and are older than a
stork could imagine; and in that country, there is a river that
overflows its banks, and then goes back, leaving nothing but mire;
there we can walk about, and eat frogs in abundance."
"Oh, o- h!" cried the young storks.
"Yes, it is a delightful place; there is nothing to do all day
long but eat, and while we are so well off out there, in this
country there will not be a single green leaf on the trees, and the
weather will be so cold that the clouds will freeze, and fall on the
earth in little white rags." The stork meant snow, but she could not
explain it in any other way.
"Will the naughty boys freeze and fall in pieces?" asked the young
storks.
"No, they will not freeze and fall into pieces," said the
mother, "but they will be very cold, and be obliged to sit all day
in a dark, gloomy room, while we shall be flying about in foreign
lands, where there are blooming flowers and warm sunshine."
Time passed on, and the young storks grew so large that they could
stand upright in the nest and look about them. The father brought
them, every day, beautiful frogs, little snakes, and all kinds of
stork-dainties that he could find. And then, how funny it was to see
the tricks he would perform to amuse them. He would lay his head quite
round over his tail, and clatter with his beak, as if it had been a
rattle; and then he would tell them stories all about the marshes
and fens.
"Come," said the mother one day, "Now you must learn to fly."
And all the four young ones were obliged to come out on the top of the
roof. Oh, how they tottered at first, and were obliged to balance
themselves with their wings, or they would have fallen to the ground
below.
"Look at me," said the mother, "you must hold your heads in this
way, and place your feet so. Once, twice, once, twice- that is it. Now
you will be able to take care of yourselves in the world."
Then she flew a little distance from them, and the young ones made
a spring to follow her; but down they fell plump, for their bodies
were still too heavy.
"I don't want to fly," said one of the young storks, creeping back
into the nest. "I don't care about going to warm countries."
"Would you like to stay here and freeze when the winter comes?"
said the mother, "or till the boys comes to hang you, or to roast
you?- Well then, I'll call them."
"Oh no, no," said the young stork, jumping out on the roof with
the others; and now they were all attentive, and by the third day
could fly a little. Then they began to fancy they could soar, so
they tried to do so, resting on their wings, but they soon found
