the field. "In the sweat of the face shalt thou eat bread," said
she; "it is written in the Bible." After work, came the recreations,
dancing and playing in the greenwood, and the "harvest homes." She was
a thorough housewife.
After her a man came out of the coach, who is a painter; he is the
great master of colors, and is named SEPTEMBER. The forest, on his
arrival, had to change its colors when he wished it; and how beautiful
are the colors he chooses! The woods glow with hues of red and gold
and brown. This great master painter could whistle like a blackbird.
He was quick in his work, and soon entwined the tendrils of the hop
plant around his beer jug. This was an ornament to the jug, and he has
a great love for ornament. There he stood with his color pot in his
hand, and that was the whole of his luggage. A land-owner followed,
who in the month for sowing seed attended to the ploughing and was
fond of field sports. Squire OCTOBER brought his dog and his gun
with him, and had nuts in his game bag. "Crack, crack." He had a great
deal of luggage, even an English plough. He spoke of farming, but what
he said could scarcely be heard for the coughing and gasping of his
neighbor. It was NOVEMBER, who coughed violently as he got out. He had
a cold, which caused him to use his pocket-handkerchief continually;
and yet he said he was obliged to accompany servant girls to their new
places, and initiate them into their winter service. He said he
thought his cold would never leave him when he went out woodcutting,
for he was a master sawyer, and had to supply wood to the whole
parish. He spent his evenings preparing wooden soles for skates, for
he knew, he said, that in a few weeks these shoes would be wanted
for the amusement of skating. At length the last passenger made her
appearance,- old Mother DECEMBER, with her fire-stool. The dame was
very old, but her eyes glistened like two stars. She carried on her
arm a flower-pot, in which a little fir-tree was growing. "This tree I
shall guard and cherish," she said, "that it may grow large by
Christmas Eve, and reach from the ground to the ceiling, to be covered
and adorned with flaming candles, golden apples, and little figures.
The fire-stool will be as warm as a stove, and I shall then bring a
story book out of my pocket, and read aloud till all the children in
the room are quite quiet. Then the little figures on the tree will
become lively, and the little waxen angel at the top spread out his
wings of gold-leaf, and fly down from his green perch. He will kiss
every one in the room, great and small; yes, even the poor children
who stand in the passage, or out in the street singing a carol about
the 'Star of Bethlehem.'"
"Well, now the coach may drive away," said the sentry; "we have
the whole twelve. Let the horses be put up."
"First, let all the twelve come to me," said the captain on
duty, "one after another. The passports I will keep here. Each of them
is available for one month; when that has passed, I shall write the
behavior of each on his passport. Mr. JANUARY, have the goodness to
come here." And Mr. January stepped forward.
When a year has passed, I think I shall be able to tell you what
the twelve passengers have brought to you, to me, and to all of us.
Now I do not know, and probably even they don't know themselves, for
we live in strange times.
THE END
.
1872
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
THE MARSH KING'S DAUGHTER
by Hans Christian Andersen
THE storks relate to their little ones a great many stories, and
they are all about moors and reed banks, and suited to their age and
capacity. The youngest of them are quite satisfied with "kribble,
krabble," or such nonsense, and think it very grand; but the elder
ones want something with a deeper meaning, or at least something about
their own family.
We are only acquainted with one of the two longest and oldest
stories which the storks relate- it is about Moses, who was exposed by
his mother on the banks of the Nile, and was found by the king's
daughter, who gave him a good education, and he afterwards became a
great man; but where he was buried is still unknown.
Every one knows this story, but not the second; very likely
because it is quite an inland story. It has been repeated from mouth
to mouth, from one stork-mamma to another, for thousands of years; and
each has told it better than the last; and now we mean to tell it
better than all.
The first stork pair who related it lived at the time it happened,
and had their summer residence on the rafters of the Viking's house,
which stood near the wild moorlands of Wendsyssell; that is, to
speak more correctly, the great moorheath, high up in the north of
Jutland, by the Skjagen peak. This wilderness is still an immense wild
heath of marshy ground, about which we can read in the "Official
Directory." It is said that in olden times the place was a lake, the
ground of which had heaved up from beneath, and now the moorland
extends for miles in every direction, and is surrounded by damp
meadows, trembling, undulating swamps, and marshy ground covered
with turf, on which grow bilberry bushes and stunted trees. Mists
are almost always hovering over this region, which, seventy years ago,
was overrun with wolves. It may well be called the Wild Moor; and
one can easily imagine, with such a wild expanse of marsh and lake,
how lonely and dreary it must have been a thousand years ago. Many
things may be noticed now that existed then. The reeds grow to the
same height, and bear the same kind of long, purple-brown leaves, with
their feathery tips. There still stands the birch, with its white bark
and its delicate, loosely hanging leaves; and with regard to the
living beings who frequented this spot, the fly still wears a gauzy
dress of the same cut, and the favorite colors of the stork are white,
with black and red for stockings. The people, certainly, in those
days, wore very different dresses to those they now wear, but if any
of them, be he huntsman or squire, master or servant, ventured on
the wavering, undulating, marshy ground of the moor, they met with the
same fate a thousand years ago as they would now. The wanderer sank,
and went down to the Marsh King, as he is named, who rules in the
great moorland empire beneath. They also called him "Gunkel King," but
we like the name of "Marsh King" better, and we will give him that
name as the storks do. Very little is known of the Marsh King's
rule, but that, perhaps, is a good thing.
In the neighborhood of the moorlands, and not far from the great
arm of the North Sea and the Cattegat which is called the
Lumfjorden, lay the castle of the Viking, with its water-tight stone
cellars, its tower, and its three projecting storeys. On the ridge
of the roof the stork had built his nest, and there the stork-mamma
sat on her eggs and felt sure her hatching would come to something.
One evening, stork-papa stayed out rather late, and when he came
home he seemed quite busy, bustling, and important. "I have
something very dreadful to tell you," said he to the stork-mamma.
"Keep it to yourself then," she replied. "Remember that I am
hatching eggs; it may agitate me, and will affect them."
"You must know it at once," said he. "The daughter of our host
in Egypt has arrived here. She has ventured to take this journey,
and now she is lost."
"She who sprung from the race of the fairies, is it?" cried the
mother stork. "Oh, tell me all about it; you know I cannot bear to
be kept waiting at a time when I am hatching eggs."
"Well, you see, mother," he replied, "she believed what the
doctors said, and what I have heard you state also, that the
moor-flowers which grow about here would heal her sick father; and she
has flown to the north in swan's plumage, in company with some other
swan-princesses, who come to these parts every year to renew their
youth. She came, and where is she now!"
"You enter into particulars too much," said the mamma stork,
"and the eggs may take cold; I cannot bear such suspense as this."
"Well," said he, "I have kept watch; and this evening I went among
the rushes where I thought the marshy ground would bear me, and
while I was there three swans came. Something in their manner of
flying seemed to say to me, 'Look carefully now; there is one not
all swan, only swan's feathers.' You know, mother, you have the same
intuitive feeling that I have; you know whether a thing is right or
not immediately."
"Yes, of course," said she; "but tell me about the princess; I
am tired of hearing about the swan's feathers."
"Well, you know that in the middle of the moor there is
something like a lake," said the stork-papa. "You can see the edge
of it if you raise yourself a little. Just there, by the reeds and the
green banks, lay the trunk of an elder-tree; upon this the three swans
stood flapping their wings, and looking about them; one of them
threw off her plumage, and I immediately recognized her as one of
the princesses of our home in Egypt. There she sat, without any
covering but her long, black hair. I heard her tell the two others
to take great care of the swan's plumage, while she dipped down into
the water to pluck the flowers which she fancied she saw there. The
others nodded, and picked up the feather dress, and took possession of
it. I wonder what will become of it? thought I, and she most likely
asked herself the same question. If so, she received an answer, a very
practical one; for the two swans rose up and flew away with her swan's
plumage. 'Dive down now!' they cried; 'thou shalt never more fly in
the swan's plumage, thou shalt never again see Egypt; here, on the
moor, thou wilt remain.' So saying, they tore the swan's plumage
into a thousand pieces, the feathers drifted about like a snow-shower,
and then the two deceitful princesses flew away."
"Why, that is terrible," said the stork-mamma; "I feel as if I
could hardly bear to hear any more, but you must tell me what happened
next."
"The princess wept and lamented aloud; her tears moistened the
elder stump, which was really not an elder stump but the Marsh King
himself, he who in marshy ground lives and rules. I saw myself how the
stump of the tree turned round, and was a tree no more, while long,
clammy branches like arms, were extended from it. Then the poor
child was terribly frightened, and started up to run away. She
hastened to cross the green, slimy ground; but it will not bear any
weight, much less hers. She quickly sank, and the elder stump dived
immediately after her; in fact, it was he who drew her down. Great
black bubbles rose up out of the moor-slime, and with these every
trace of the two vanished. And now the princess is buried in the
wild marsh, she will never now carry flowers to Egypt to cure her
father. It would have broken your heart, mother, had you seen it."
"You ought not to have told me," said she, "at such a time as
this; the eggs might suffer. But I think the princess will soon find
help; some one will rise up to help her. Ah! if it had been you or
I, or one of our people, it would have been all over with us."
I mean to go every day," said he, "to see if anything comes to
pass;" and so he did.
A long time went by, but at last he saw a green stalk shooting
up out of the deep, marshy ground. As it reached the surface of the
marsh, a leaf spread out, and unfolded itself broader and broader, and
close to it came forth a bud.
One morning, when the stork-papa was flying over the stem, he
saw that the power of the sun's rays had caused the bud to open, and
in the cup of the flower lay a charming child- a little maiden,
looking as if she had just come out of a bath. The little one was so
like the Egyptian princess, that the stork, at the first moment,
thought it must be the princess herself, but after a little reflection
he decided that it was much more likely to be the daughter of the
princess and the Marsh King; and this explained also her being
placed in the cup of a water-lily. "But she cannot be left to lie
here," thought the stork, "and in my nest there are already so many.
But stay, I have thought of something: the wife of the Viking has no
children, and how often she has wished for a little one. People always
say the stork brings the little ones; I will do so in earnest this
time. I shall fly with the child to the Viking's wife; what
rejoicing there will be!"
And then the stork lifted the little girl out of the flower-cup,
flew to the castle, picked a hole with his beak in the
bladder-covered, window, and laid the beautiful child in the bosom
of the Viking's wife. Then he flew back quickly to the stork-mamma and
told her what he had seen and done; and the little storks listened
to it all, for they were then quite old enough to do so. "So you see,"
he continued, "that the princess is not dead, for she must have sent
her little one up here; and now I have found a home for her."
"Ah, I said it would be so from the first," replied the
stork-mamma; "but now think a little of your own family. Our
travelling time draws near, and I sometimes feel a little irritation
already under the wings. The cuckoos and the nightingale are already
gone, and I heard the quails say they should go too as soon as the
wind was favorable. Our youngsters will go through all the
manoeuvres at the review very well, or I am much mistaken in them."
