Part 2
This struck the Emperor, for it seemed to him that they were right; but he thought to himself, “I must go through with the procession now.”
So he held himself stiffer than ever, and the chamberlains held on tightly, carrying the train which was not there at all.
THE GOLDEN GOOSE
There was once a man who had three sons, the youngest of whom was thought to be very stupid and silly. Everybody used to tease and mock him.
One day the eldest son wanted to go into the forest to hew wood, and before he started, his mother gave him a fine sweet cake and a bottle of wine to take with him. In the forest he met a gray old man, who bade him “good day,” and said, “Give me a piece of your cake and a sip of your wine, for I am very hungry and thirsty.”
But the prudent youth replied: “If I give you my cake and wine, I shall have none for myself. Be off with you!”
And he left the little man standing there and went on his way. He began to cut down a tree, but he had not been at work long before he made a false stroke, and the ax cut so deeply into his arm that he had to go home and have it bound up. This was the little gray man’s doing.
The second son was now the one to go into the forest to cut wood, and the mother gave him, as she had given the eldest, a sweet cake and a bottle of wine. The little old gray man met him, too, and asked for a piece of cake and a drink of wine; but the second son made the same sensible answer: “What I give to you I cannot have for myself. Be off!”
And he left the little man standing there and went on his way. His punishment, however, was not long delayed; when he had made a few strokes at the tree he struck himself in the leg, and had to be carried home.
Then the stupid son said to his father, “Father, let me go and cut wood.”
The father replied: “Your brothers have hurt themselves. Leave it alone. You know nothing about it.”
But he begged so long that at last the father said, “Well, go then; you will be wiser when you have hurt yourself.”
His mother gave him a cake made with water and baked in the cinders, and with it a bottle of sour beer. When he came to the forest the little old gray man met him in the same way, greeted him, and said, “Give me a piece of your cake and a taste of your wine; I am very hungry and thirsty.”
“I have only a cake baked in ashes,” replied the simple youth, “and sour beer. If that will suit you, we will sit down and eat together.”
So they sat down; but when the youth took out his cake it was a fine sweet cake, and the sour beer was good wine. They ate and drank, and then the little man said: “Because you have a good heart and are willing to share what you have, I will give you good luck. There stands an old tree. Cut it down and you will find something at the roots.” Then the old man took leave of him.
The youth went and cut down the tree, and when it fell, there sitting among the roots was a goose, whose feathers were of pure gold. He picked it up, and, taking it with him, went to an inn where he meant to pass the night. The landlord had three daughters, who, as soon as they saw the goose, were very curious as to what kind of a bird it could be, and wanted to have one of its golden feathers.
The eldest thought to herself, “I’ll soon find a chance to pull out a feather”; and as soon as the youth went out of the room she seized the goose by the wing; but her hand stuck fast and she could not get away.
Very soon the second sister came in, thinking only of how she might pluck a feather for herself; but she had hardly touched her sister when she found herself held fast.
At last the third sister came also, with the same intention. Then the others screamed out: “Keep away! For goodness’ sake, keep away!”
But she did not understand why she should keep away. “If the others are there by the bird, why should not I be, too?” she thought, and ran to them; but as soon as she had touched her sister she was made fast, too. So they had to spend the night with the goose.
The next morning the youth took the goose under his arm and started off, without troubling himself about the three girls, who were still hanging on. They were obliged to keep on the run behind him, now to the right and now to the left, as the fancy seized him.
In the middle of the fields the parson met them, and when he saw the procession he said: “For shame, you good-for-nothing girls! What are you running across the fields after this young man for? Is that seemly?”
He took the youngest by the hand to pull her away, but as soon as he touched her hand he also stuck fast, and was obliged himself to run along behind.
Before long the sexton came by and saw his master, the parson, running along after three girls. He was astonished, and called after him: “Halloo, your reverence! whither away so quickly? Do not forget that we have a christening to-day!” and running after him he took him by his gown, but was also held fast to it.
While the five were trotting along thus, one behind the other, two laborers came by, with their hoes, from the fields. The parson called out to them and begged them to release him and the sexton; but they had hardly touched the sexton when they, too, were caught fast, and now there were seven of them running behind the youth and the goose.
After a while the youth came to a city where a King ruled who had a daughter who was so serious that no one could make her laugh. So the King had made a decree that whoever could make her laugh should have her in marriage. When the youth heard this he went with his goose and all his train before the Princess, and as soon as she saw the seven people continually on the trot, one behind the other, she began to laugh heartily, as if she could never stop. Then the youth asked to have her for his wife, and the wedding was celebrated. After the King’s death he inherited the kingdom, and lived long and happily with his wife.
THE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER
There was once a shoemaker who, through no fault of his own, had become so poor that at last he had only leather enough for one pair of shoes. So in the evening he cut out the shoes which he intended to begin upon the next morning, and since he had a good conscience he lay down quietly, said his prayers, and fell asleep.
In the morning he was preparing to sit down to work, when he looked, and there stood the shoes all finished on his table. He was so astonished that he did not know what to say. He took the shoes in his hand to examine them inside and out; and they were so neatly made that not a stitch was out of place, showing that they were done by a master hand.
Very soon a customer came in, and because the shoes pleased him so much he paid more than the ordinary price for them. With this money the shoemaker was able to purchase leather for two pairs of shoes. He cut them out in the evening, and next day was about to go to work with fresh courage; but there was no need for him to work, for the two pairs of shoes stood beautifully finished on his table. Presently customers came in, who paid him so well that he was able to buy leather for four pairs of shoes. The following morning he found the four pairs finished, and so it went on; what he cut out in the evening was finished in the morning, so that he was soon in comfortable circumstances again, and at last was becoming really prosperous.
One evening, not long before Christmas, the shoemaker said to his wife, “What do you think of staying up to-night to see who it is that lends us this helping hand?”
The wife liked the idea; so they lighted a candle and hid themselves in a corner of the room behind some clothes which were hanging there. At midnight came two little naked men, who sat down at the shoemaker’s table, took up the work which was cut out, and set to work so nimbly, stitching, sewing, and hammering with their little fingers, that the shoemaker could not take his eyes off them. They did not stop till everything was finished and the shoes stood ready on the table; then they ran quickly away.
The next day the wife said to her husband: “The little men have made us rich, and we must show them how grateful we are. They must be almost frozen, running about with nothing on. I’ll tell you what we’ll do; I will make them little shirts, and coats, and vests, and trousers, and knit them stockings, and you shall make each of them a little pair of shoes.”
The shoemaker was pleased with this plan, and on Christmas Eve, when everything was ready, they laid out the presents on the table instead of the usual work, and hid themselves to see how the little men would behave.
At midnight they came bounding in, and were about to set to work; but there was no leather to be seen, only these charming little clothes. At first they were astonished, and then perfectly delighted. With the greatest speed they put on and smoothed down the pretty clothes, singing,
“Now we are boys so fine to see, Why should we longer cobblers be?”
Then they danced and skipped, and leaped over chairs and benches. At last they danced out at the door. From this time on they came no more; but the shoemaker prospered as long as he lived, and succeeded in all his undertakings.
THE KING OF THE CATS
Many years ago there lived in the north of Scotland, in a very lonely house, far from all other houses, two young men who were brothers. An old woman used to do their cooking, and there was no one else, unless we count her cat and their dogs, within miles of them.
One autumn afternoon the elder of the two said he would not go out; so the younger one went alone to follow the path where they had been shooting the day before. He intended to return home before sunset. However, he did not do so, and the older brother became very uneasy as he watched and waited in vain, till long after their usual supper-time. At last he returned, wet and exhausted, nor did he explain why he was so late. But after supper, when the two brothers were seated before the fire, the dogs lying at their feet and the old woman’s black cat sitting gravely, with half-shut eyes, on the hearth, the young man began to tell his story.
“You must be wondering,” said he, “what made me so late. I have had a very strange adventure to-day; I hardly know what to say about it. I went, as I told you I should, along our yesterday’s route. A mountain fog came on just as I was about to turn homeward, and I completely lost my way. I wandered about for a long time, not knowing where I was, till at last I saw a light, and made for it, hoping to get help. As I came near it disappeared, and I found myself close to a large oak tree. I climbed into the branches the better to look for the light, and behold! there it was right beneath me, inside the hollow trunk of the tree. I seemed to be looking down into a church, where a funeral was taking place. I heard singing, and saw a coffin surrounded by torches, all carried by—But there! I know you won’t believe me if I tell you.”
His brother eagerly begged him to go on. The dogs were sleeping quietly, but the cat was sitting up and seemed to be listening as carefully and attentively as the man. Both brothers found themselves watching the cat as the young man took up the story.
“Yes,” he continued, “it is as true as I sit here. The coffin and the torches were both carried by cats, and upon the coffin was marked a crown and scepter!”
He got no further, for the black cat started up, shrieking, “Good gracious! old Peter’s dead, and I’m King o’ the Cats!” then rushed up the chimney and was seen no more.
THE FIR TREE
Far away in the forest stood a pretty little fir tree. The warm sun shone upon it, the fresh breezes blew about it, but the fir tree was not happy. All about it were many tall companions, pines and firs, and the little fir tree wanted to be tall like them. So it did not heed the warm sunlight, or the soft air which fluttered its leaves, or even the little peasant children who passed by, prattling merrily. Sometimes the children would bring a basketful of raspberries or strawberries, and seat themselves near the fir tree, saying of the tree, “What a pretty little one this is!” which made it feel more unhappy than ever.
And yet, all this time, the tree grew a whole joint or ring taller every year; for by the number of rings on the trunk of a fir tree we can tell its age.
Still, as it grew, it complained, “Oh, if I were only as tall as the other trees! then I should spread out my branches on every side, and my crown would overlook the wide world. The birds would build their nests in my branches, and when the wind blew, I should bow with stately dignity like the others.”
So discontented was the tree that it took no pleasure in the sunshine, or the birds, or in the rosy clouds that floated over it morning and evening.
Sometimes in winter, when the snow lay white and sparkling on the ground, a hare would come leaping along and jump right over the little tree’s head; then how mortified it felt!
Two winters passed; and when the third came, the tree had grown so tall that the hare was obliged to run round it.
“Ah, to grow and grow! to become tall and old! That is the only thing in the world worth caring for,” the fir tree sighed.
In the autumn the woodcutters always came and cut down several of the tallest trees, and the young fir, which had now grown to a very good height, shuddered as the noble trees fell to the ground with a crash. After the branches were lopped off, the trunks looked so slender and bare that they could scarcely be recognized. Then the trees were placed, one upon another, on wagons, and dragged by horses out of the forest. “Where were they going? What was going to become of them?” The young fir tree wondered a great deal about it.
So in the spring, when the swallows and the storks came, it asked them: “Do you know where those trees were taken? Did you meet them?”
The swallows knew nothing of them, but the stork, after a little reflection, nodded his head and said: “Yes, I think I know. As I flew from Egypt I met several new ships, and they had fine masts that smelt like fir. These must have been the trees, and I assure you they were most stately and grand; they towered majestically.”
“Oh, how I wish I were tall enough to go on the sea!” said the fir tree. “Tell me, what is this sea, and what does it look like?”
“It would take too much time to explain,—a great deal too much,” said the stork, flying quickly away.
“Rejoice in thy youth,” said the sunbeam; “rejoice in the fresh growing time, and in the young life that is within thee!”
And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew wept tears over it; but the fir tree did not understand.
Christmas time drew near, and many young trees were cut down; some that were even smaller and younger than the fir tree, which had no peace or rest from its longing to leave the forest. These young trees, which were chosen for their beauty, kept their branches, but were also laid on wagons and drawn by horses out of the forest.
“Where are they going?” asked the fir tree. “They are not taller than I am; indeed, one was not so tall. And why do they keep all their branches? Where are they going?”
“We know! we know!” sang the sparrows. “We have looked in at the windows of the houses in the town, and we know what is done with them. Oh, you cannot think what honor and glory they receive! They are dressed up in the most splendid manner. We have looked in and seen them standing in the middle of a warm room, adorned with all sorts of beautiful things,—gilded apples, sweetmeats, playthings, and hundreds of candles.”
“And then,” asked the fir tree, trembling in all its branches, “and then what happens?”
“We did not see any more,” said the sparrows; “but, indeed, it was simply wonderful!”
“I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me,” thought the fir tree. “That would be even better than sailing over the sea. Oh, when will Christmas be here! I am now as tall and well grown as those which were taken away last year. O that I were now laid on the wagon, or standing in the warm room with all that brightness and splendor about me! Something better and more beautiful is sure to follow, or the trees would not be so decked out. Yes, something better, something still more splendid must follow—but what can it be? I am weary with longing. I scarcely know myself what is the matter with me.”
“Rejoice in our love,” said the air and the sunlight; “rejoice in thine own bright life in the fresh air.”
But the tree would not rejoice, though it grew taller every day; and, winter and summer, its evergreen foliage might be seen in the forest, and passers-by would say, “What a beautiful tree!”
A short time before the next Christmas the discontented fir tree was the first to fall. As the ax cut sharply into its trunk, deep in through the pith, the tree fell to the ground with a groan, conscious only of pain and faintness, and forgetting all its dreams of happiness in the sorrow of leaving its home in the forest. It knew that it would never again see its dear old companions the trees, nor the little bushes, nor the flowers that had grown by its side—perhaps not even the birds.
Nor was the journey at all pleasant. The tree first recovered itself while it was being unloaded, with several other trees, in the courtyard of a house; and it heard a man say: “We want only one, and this is the prettiest. This one is beautiful!”
Then came two servants in grand livery, and carried the fir tree into a large and beautiful room. Pictures hung on the walls, and near the large stove stood great china jars with lions on the lids. There were rocking-chairs, silken sofas, large tables with picture books and toys that had cost a hundred times a hundred dollars,—at least, so the children said.
Then the fir tree was placed in a great tub full of sand, but no one could see that it was a tub, for it was hung with green cloth, and it stood on a very handsome carpet. Oh, how the tree trembled! What was going to happen to it now? Some young ladies came, and the servants helped them to adorn the tree.
On some branches they hung little bags cut out of colored paper, and each bag was full of sweetmeats; from other branches there hung gilded apples and walnuts, as if they had grown there; and above and all around were hundreds of red, blue, and white candles, which were fastened upon the branches. Dolls, exactly like real men and women, were placed under the green leaves,—the fir tree had never seen any before,—and at the very top was fastened a glittering star, made of gold tinsel. Oh, it was very beautiful!
“This evening,” they all exclaimed, “this evening how bright it will be!”
“O that evening were come,” thought the tree, “and the candles were lighted! Then I shall know what else is going to happen. Will the trees come from the forest to see me? Will the sparrows peep in at the windows, I wonder? Shall I grow faster here, and keep on all these ornaments during summer and winter?”
But guessing was of very little use. Its back ached with trying; and this pain is as bad for a slender tree as headache is for us.
At last the candles were lighted, and then what a shining blaze of splendor the tree presented! It trembled so with joy in all its branches that one of the candles fell on a green twig and set fire to it. “Help! help!” exclaimed the young ladies, and they quickly extinguished the fire.
After this the tree did not dare even to tremble (though the fire frightened it), it was so anxious not to hurt any of the beautiful ornaments which so dazzled and bewildered it by their brilliance.
And now the folding doors were thrown open, and a troop of children rushed in as if they intended to upset the tree. They were followed more slowly by the older people. For a moment the little ones stood silent with delight, and then they shouted for joy till the room rang; and they danced merrily round the tree, and snatched off one present after another.
“What are they doing?” thought the tree. “What will happen next?”
The candles burned down to the branches and were put out one by one. Then the children were given permission to plunder the tree.
Oh, how they rushed upon it! Its branches creaked with the strain, and if it had not been fastened by the gold star to the ceiling, it must have been thrown down.
Then the children danced about with their pretty toys, and no one paid any attention to the tree except the old nurse, who came and peeped among the branches to see if an apple or a fig had been forgotten.
“A story! a story!” cried the children, and dragged a little stout man toward the tree.
“Now we are in the greenwood,” said the man, as he sat down beneath it, “and the tree will have the pleasure of hearing, too. But I am going to tell only one story. What shall it be? Henny Penny? or Humpty Dumpty, who fell downstairs, but soon got up again, and at last married a princess?”
“Henny Penny!” cried some. “Humpty Dumpty!” cried others; and there was a great uproar. But the fir tree kept silent and thought: “What am I supposed to do now? Have I nothing to do with all this?” But it had already been in the entertainment, and had played out its part.
Then the old man told the story of Humpty Dumpty,—how he fell downstairs, but soon got up again, and married a princess. And the children clapped their hands and cried, “Another! another!” for they wanted to hear the story of Henny Penny too; but this time they got only Humpty Dumpty. The fir tree stood quiet and thoughtful. The birds in the forest had never told anything like that,—how Humpty Dumpty fell downstairs, and yet married a princess.
“Ah, yes, that is the way it happens in the world, I suppose,” thought the fir tree. And it believed the story because such a nice man had told it.
“Well,” it thought, “who knows? Perhaps I shall fall downstairs, too, and marry a princess”; and it looked forward eagerly to the next evening, expecting to be again decked out with candles and toys, tinsel and fruit. “To-morrow I will not tremble,” thought the tree; “I will enjoy to the full all my splendor, and I shall hear the story of Humpty Dumpty again, and perhaps Henny Penny too.” And the tree stood silent and lost in thought all night.
In the morning the servants came in. “Now,” thought the tree, “all the decking me out will begin again.” But they dragged it out of the room and upstairs to the garret, and threw it on the floor in a dark corner where no daylight shone, and there they left it. “What does this mean?” thought the tree. “What am I to do here? What is there for me to hear in a place like this?” and it leaned against the wall, and thought and thought.
And it had time enough to think, for days and nights passed and no one came near it; and when at last some one did come, it was only to put some great boxes into a corner. So the tree was completely hidden from sight; it seemed as if it had been quite forgotten.
“It is winter now out of doors,” thought the tree. “The ground is hard and covered with snow, so that people cannot plant me yet. That is doubtless why I am left here under cover till the spring comes. How thoughtful and kind everybody is to me! Still, I wish it were not so dark here, and so terribly lonely, with not even a little hare to look at. How pleasant it was out in the forest while the snow lay on the ground, when the hare would run by—yes, and jump over me, too; but I did not like it at all then. Oh, it is terribly lonely here!”
“Squeak, squeak!” said a little mouse, stealing out of his hole and creeping cautiously toward the tree; then came another, and they both sniffed at the fir tree, and crept in and out between its branches.
“Oh, it is very cold!” said the little mouse. “If it were not, we should be very comfortable here, shouldn’t we, old fir tree?”
“I am not old at all,” said the fir tree. “There are many who are much older than I am.”