close by it a number of crippled beggars had placed themselves; the
brightest among them looked, to quote the words of Marryat, "like
the eldest son of Famine who had just come of age." The others were
either blind, or had withered legs, which obliged them to creep
about on their hands and knees, or they had shrivelled arms and
hands without fingers. It was indeed poverty arrayed in rags.
"Eccellenza, miserabili!" they exclaimed, stretching forth their
diseased limbs. The hostess received the travellers with bare feet,
untidy hair, and a dirty blouse. The doors were fastened together with
string; the floors of the rooms were of brick, broken in many
places; bats flew about under the roof; and as to the odor within-
"Let us have supper laid in the stable," said one of the
travellers; "then we shall know what we are breathing."
The windows were opened to let in a little fresh air, but
quicker than air came in the withered arms and the continual whining
sounds, "Miserabili, eccellenza. On the walls were inscriptions,
half of them against "la bella Italia."
The supper made its appearance at last. It consisted of watery
soup, seasoned with pepper and rancid oil. This last delicacy played a
principal part in the salad. Musty eggs and roasted cocks'-combs
were the best dishes on the table; even the wine had a strange
taste, it was certainly a mixture. At night, all the boxes were placed
against the doors, and one of the travellers watched while the
others slept. The student's turn came to watch. How close the air felt
in that room; the heat overpowered him. The gnats were buzzing about
and stinging, while the miserabili, outside, moaned in their dreams.
"Travelling would be all very well," said the student of
divinity to himself, "if we had no bodies, or if the body could rest
while the soul if flying. Wherever I go I feel a want which
oppresses my heart, for something better presents itself at the
moment; yes, something better, which shall be the best of all; but
where is that to be found? In fact, I know in my heart very well
what I want. I wish to attain the greatest of all happiness."
No sooner were the words spoken than he was at home. Long white
curtains shaded the windows of his room, and in the middle of the
floor stood a black coffin, in which he now lay in the still sleep
of death; his wish was fulfilled, his body was at rest, and his spirit
travelling.
"Esteem no man happy until he is in his grave," were the words
of Solon. Here was a strong fresh proof of their truth. Every corpse
is a sphinx of immortality. The sphinx in this sarcophagus might
unveil its own mystery in the words which the living had himself
written two days before-
"Stern death, thy chilling silence waketh dread;
Yet in thy darkest hour there may be light.
Earth's garden reaper! from the grave's cold bed
The soul on Jacob's ladder takes her flight.
Man's greatest sorrows often are a part
Of hidden griefs, concealed from human eyes,
Which press far heavier on the lonely heart
Than now the earth that on his coffin lies."
Two figures were moving about the room; we know them both. One was
the fairy named Care, the other the messenger of Fortune. They bent
over the dead.
"Look!" said Care; "what happiness have your goloshes brought to
mankind?"
"They have at least brought lasting happiness to him who
slumbers here," she said.
"Not so," said Care, "he went away of himself, he was not
summoned. His mental powers were not strong enough to discern the
treasures which he had been destined to discover. I will do him a
favor now." And she drew the goloshes from his feet.
The sleep of death was ended, and the recovered man raised
himself. Care vanished, and with her the goloshes; doubtless she
looked upon them as her own property.
THE END
.
1872
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
THE HAPPY FAMILY
by Hans Christian Andersen
THE largest green leaf in this country is certainly the
burdock-leaf. If you hold it in front of you, it is large enough for
an apron; and if you hold it over your head, it is almost as good as
an umbrella, it is so wonderfully large. A burdock never grows
alone; where it grows, there are many more, and it is a splendid
sight; and all this splendor is good for snails. The great white
snails, which grand people in olden times used to have made into
fricassees; and when they had eaten them, they would say, "O, what a
delicious dish!" for these people really thought them good; and
these snails lived on burdock-leaves, and for them the burdock was
planted.
There was once an old estate where no one now lived to require
snails; indeed, the owners had all died out, but the burdock still
flourished; it grew over all the beds and walks of the garden- its
growth had no check- till it became at last quite a forest of
burdocks. Here and there stood an apple or a plum-tree; but for
this, nobody would have thought the place had ever been a garden. It
was burdock from one end to the other; and here lived the last two
surviving snails. They knew not themselves how old they were; but they
could remember the time when there were a great many more of them, and
that they were descended from a family which came from foreign
lands, and that the whole forest had been planted for them and theirs.
They had never been away from the garden; but they knew that another
place once existed in the world, called the Duke's Palace Castle, in
which some of their relations had been boiled till they became
black, and were then laid on a silver dish; but what was done
afterwards they did not know. Besides, they could not imagine
exactly how it felt to be boiled and placed on a silver dish; but no
doubt it was something very fine and highly genteel. Neither the
cockchafer, nor the toad, nor the earth-worm, whom they questioned
about it, would give them the least information; for none of their
relations had ever been cooked or served on a silver dish. The old
white snails were the most aristocratic race in the world,- they
knew that. The forest had been planted for them, and the nobleman's
castle had been built entirely that they might be cooked and laid on
silver dishes.
They lived quite retired and very happily; and as they had no
children of their own, they had adopted a little common snail, which
they brought up as their own child. The little one would not grow, for
he was only a common snail; but the old people, particularly the
mother-snail, declared that she could easily see how he grew; and when
the father said he could not perceive it, she begged him to feel the
little snail's shell, and he did so, and found that the mother was
right.
One day it rained very fast. "Listen, what a drumming there is
on the burdock-leaves; turn, turn, turn; turn, turn, turn," said the
father-snail.
"There come the drops," said the mother; "they are trickling
down the stalks. We shall have it very wet here presently. I am very
glad we have such good houses, and that the little one has one of
his own. There has been really more done for us than for any other
creature; it is quite plain that we are the most noble people in the
world. We have houses from our birth, and the burdock forest has
been planted for us. I should very much like to know how far it
extends, and what lies beyond it."
"There can be nothing better than we have here," said the
father-snail; "I wish for nothing more."
"Yes, but I do," said the mother; "I should like to be taken to
the palace, and boiled, and laid upon a silver dish, as was done to
all our ancestors; and you may be sure it must be something very
uncommon."
"The nobleman's castle, perhaps, has fallen to decay," said the
snail-father, or the burdock wood may have grown out. You need not
be in a hurry; you are always so impatient, and the youngster is
getting just the same. He has been three days creeping to the top of
that stalk. I feel quite giddy when I look at him."
"You must not scold him," said the mother-snail; "he creeps so
very carefully. He will be the joy of our home; and we old folks
have nothing else to live for. But have you ever thought where we
are to get a wife for him? Do you think that farther out in the wood
there may be others of our race?"
"There may be black snails, no doubt," said the old snail;
"black snails without houses; but they are so vulgar and conceited
too. But we can give the ants a commission; they run here and there,
as if they all had so much business to get through. They, most likely,
will know of a wife for our youngster."
"I certainly know a most beautiful bride," said one of the ants;
"but I fear it would not do, for she is a queen."
"That does not matter," said the old snail; "has she a house?"
"She has a palace," replied the ant,- "a most beautiful ant-palace
with seven hundred passages."
"Thank-you," said the mother-snail; "but our boy shall not go to
live in an ant-hill. If you know of nothing better, we will give the
commission to the white gnats; they fly about in rain and sunshine;
they know the burdock wood from one end to the other."
"We have a wife for him," said the gnats; "a hundred man-steps
from here there is a little snail with a house, sitting on a
gooseberry-bush; she is quite alone, and old enough to be married.
It is only a hundred man-steps from here."
"Then let her come to him," said the old people. "He has the whole
burdock forest; she has only a bush."
So they brought the little lady-snail. She took eight days to
perform the journey; but that was just as it ought to be; for it
showed her to be one of the right breeding. And then they had a
wedding. Six glow-worms gave as much light as they could; but in other
respects it was all very quiet; for the old snails could not bear
festivities or a crowd. But a beautiful speech was made by the
mother-snail. The father could not speak; he was too much overcome.
Then they gave the whole burdock forest to the young snails as an
inheritance, and repeated what they had so often said, that it was the
finest place in the world, and that if they led upright and
honorable lives, and their family increased, they and their children
might some day be taken to the nobleman's palace, to be boiled
black, and laid on a silver dish. And when they had finished speaking,
the old couple crept into their houses, and came out no more; for they
slept.
The young snail pair now ruled in the forest, and had a numerous
progeny. But as the young ones were never boiled or laid in silver
dishes, they concluded that the castle had fallen into decay, and that
all the people in the world were dead; and as nobody contradicted
them, they thought they must be right. And the rain fell upon the
burdock-leaves, to play the drum for them, and the sun shone to
paint colors on the burdock forest for them, and they were very happy;
the whole family were entirely and perfectly happy.
THE END
.
1872
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
THE ICE MAIDEN
by Hans Christian Andersen
I. LITTLE RUDY
WE will pay a visit to Switzerland, and wander through that
country of mountains, whose steep and rocky sides are overgrown with
forest trees. Let us climb to the dazzling snow-fields at their
summits, and descend again to the green meadows beneath, through which
rivers and brooks rush along as if they could not quickly enough reach
the sea and vanish. Fiercely shines the sun over those deep valleys,
as well as upon the heavy masses of snow which lie on the mountains.
During the year these accumulations thaw or fall in the rolling
avalance, or are piled up in shining glaciers. Two of these glaciers
lie in the broad, rocky cliffs, between the Schreckhorn and the
Wetterhorn, near the little town of Grindelwald. They are wonderful to
behold, and therefore in the summer time strangers come here from
all parts of the world to see them. They cross snow-covered mountains,
and travel through the deep valleys, or ascend for hours, higher and
still higher, the valleys appearing to sink lower and lower as they
proceed, and become as small as if seen from an air balloon. Over
the lofty summits of these mountains the clouds often hang like a dark
veil; while beneath in the valley, where many brown, wooden houses are
scattered about, the bright rays of the sun may be shining upon a
little brilliant patch of green, making it appear almost
transparent. The waters foam and dash along in the valleys beneath;
the streams from above trickle and murmur as they fall down the
rocky mountain's side, looking like glittering silver bands.
On both sides of the mountain-path stand these little wooden
houses; and, as within, there are many children and many mouths to
feed, each house has its own little potato garden. These children rush
out in swarms, and surround travellers, whether on foot or in
carriages. They are all clever at making a bargain. They offer for
sale the sweetest little toy-houses, models of the mountain cottages
in Switzerland. Whether it be rain or sunshine, these crowds of
children are always to be seen with their wares.
About twenty years ago, there might be seen occasionally, standing
