Two Hans Christian Andersen Tales
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The Nightingale
THE EMPEROR'S castle was so nice that you had to take great care how you touched it. In the garden were the most beautiful flowers. They were admirably arranged. Beyond the garden was a forest with great trees and deep lakes in it. The forest sloped down to the sea, which was a clear blue. Large ships could sail under the boughs of the trees.In these trees there lived a nightingale. She sang so beautifully "She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes" that even the poor fisherman who had so much to do stood and listened when he came at night to cast his nets. "How beautiful it is!" he said; but he had to attend to his work, and forgot about the bird. But when she sang the next night and the fisherman came there again, he said the same thing, "How beautiful!"
From all the countries round came travellers to the emperor's town, who were astonished at the castle and the garden. But when they heard the nightingale they all said, "This is the finest thing after all!" The travellers told all about it when they went home, and learned scholars wrote many books on the town, the castle, and the garden. But they did not forget the nightingale; she was praised the most.
The books were circulated throughout the world, and some of them reached the emperor. He sat in his golden chair and tried to read a little. He nodded his head in approval, for he liked reading the accounts of the town, the castle, and the garden. "But the nightingale is better than all," he saw written.
"What is that?" said the emperor. "I don't know anything about the nightingale! Is there such a bird in my empire, and so near my garden?"
And he called his minister to him and said to him, "Here is a most remarkable nightingale!" said the emperor. "They say it is the most glorious thing in my kingdom."
"I have never before heard it mentioned!" said the minister. "I will look for it and find it! But where?"
"The book I read this in," said the emperor, "is sent me from the Far East; so let me hear the nightingale this evening! She has my gracious permission to appear after supper!"
The minister started to run up and down stairs, through the halls and corridors, and half the court ran with him. Everyone was asking after the wonderful bird that all the world knew of except those at court.
At last they met a little girl in the kitchen, who said, "Oh! I know the nightingale well. How she sings! When I am going home at night I often rest for a little in the wood, and then I hear the nightingale sing."
"Little kitchen maid!" said the minister, "I will give you a place in the kitchen if you can lead us to the nightingale. She is invited to come to court this evening."
And so they all went into the wood where the nightingale was wont to sing, and heard a cow mooing.
"Oh!" said the courtiers, "now we have found her!"
"No; that is a cow mooing I "said the kitchen maid.
Then the frogs began to croak in the marsh. "Splendid!" said the chaplain. "It is not wholly unlike a little church-bell!"
"No, no; those are frogs!" said the kitchen maid.
Then the nightingale began to sing.
"There she is!" cried the little girl. And she pointed to a little dark-grey bird up in the branches.
"I should never have thought it!" said the minister.
"Little nightingale," called out the kitchen maid, "Our emperor wants you to sing before him!"
"With great pleasure!" said the nightingale and sang a little.
"She will be a great success at court." said the minister.
"Shall I sing once more for the emperor?" asked the nightingale, thinking that the emperor was there.
"He is not among us here. But come to the castle tonight and sing, and I am sure he will be enchanted with your lovely song!" said the minister.
"It sounds best in the green wood," said the nightingale; but still she came gladly and was offered a golden perch to sit on. The whole court was there, and the kitchen maid was allowed to stand behind the door, now that she was a court-cook. Now the emperor nodded to the little grey bird, and she started singing so lovely that tears came into the emperor's eyes and ran down his cheeks. Then the nightingale sang even more beautifully. The emperor was so delighted by now that he said nothing at all. Then she sang again with her gloriously sweet voice. The nightingale was a real success.
She had to stay at court now; and was given twelve servants, who each held a silken string which was fastened round her leg. The whole town was talking about the wonderful bird.
Then one day the emperor received a large parcel on which was written "The nightingale." "Here is another new book about our famous bird!" said the emperor. But it was not a book, but a little mechanical toy in a box — an artificial nightingale that was set all over with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. When it was wound up, it could sing "She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes" too, and move its tail up and down, glittering with silver and gold.
"This is magnificent!" they all said, "Now they must sing together; what a duet we shall have!"
And so they sang together, but their voices did not blend.
In the end the artificial bird had to sing alone. When the singing was over, they all wanted the living nightingale to sing too, but where was she? No one had noticed that she had flown out of the open window away to her green woods.
"What shall we do!" said the emperor.
"But we have still the best bird!" they said and the artificial bird had to sing again, and that was the thirty-fourth time they had heard the same piece. But they did not yet know it by heart, and the bandmaster praised it: "You see, with the real nightingale one can never tell what will come out, and just how!"
"That's just what we think!" said everyone. But the fishermen who had heard the real nightingale said: "This one sings well enough, the tunes glide out; but there is something wanting, but I don't know what!"
Later the real nightingale was banished from the castle, while the artificial bird was put on silken cushions. The bandmaster wrote a work of twenty-five volumes about the artificial bird. It was so learned, long, and little understood . . . But the emperor, the court, and all the people in time knew every note of the artificial bird's song by heart. They could sing along with it, and they did. It gave them great pleasure.
But one evening, when the artificial bird was singing its best, and the emperor lay in bed listening to it, something in the bird went crack. The works inside it were nearly worn out it. It was found that from now on it must be very seldom used, only once a year, and even that was almost too much. Five years passed, and then the emperor got ill. Cold and pale lay the emperor in his splendid great bed. The whole court believed him dead, and one after the other left him to pay their respects to the new emperor that had been chosen in his stead.
The old emperor longed for relief where he lay. The moon was streaming in at the open window; but the night was silent.
"Music! Let there be music!" cried the emperor. But the mechanical bird was silent. There was no one to wind it up.
All at once there came in at the window a wonderful burst of song. It was the little living nightingale, who, sitting outside on a bough, had heard the need of the emperor and had come to sing to him a little. As she sang the blood flowed quicker and quicker in the old, sulking emperor's weak limbs, and life began to return.
"Thank you!" said the emperor. "I chased you from the castle, and you have given me life again! Can I reward you?"
"You shed tears of delight the first time I sang, and thereby gladdened this singer's heart. Get strong again. I will sing you a lullaby."
The emperor fell into a deep, calm sleep. The sun was shining through the window when he awoke. He felt strong and well. None of his servants had come back yet, for they thought he was dead. But the nightingale sat and sang to him.
"You shall sing whenever you like, and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand pieces," said the old emperor.
"Don't do that!" said the nightingale. "He worked well as long as he could. Keep him. I cannot build my nest in the castle and live here; but let me come whenever I like. I will sit in the evening on the bough outside the window, and I will sing you something that will make you happy and grateful, which otherwise lies hidden from you. I love your heart more than your crown. Promise me just one thing . . . "
"I think I can do that!" said the emperor.
"Don't tell anyone that you have a little bird who tells you things. It will be much better not to!" Then the nightingale flew away.
Now the servants came in to look at their dead emperor. He said, "Good-morning!"
[Reworked]
- If you are terribly fond of music, consider learning to play an instrument, or sing yourself.
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Little Claus and Big Claus
The Danish story-teller Hans Christian Andersen (1835) often used figures, themes and segments from older tales to make a point. This new version is abridged and carefully tailored after that.Setting the scene
IN A VILLAGE there lived two men who had the same name. They were both called Claus. People called the owner of four horses "Big Claus," and he who had only one "Little Claus," and this is almost a true story.Little Claus was obliged to plough for Big Claus and lend him his one horse. But once a week, on a Sunday, Big Claus lent him all his four horses. Then Little Claus would smack his whip over all five horses, he was so proud that he smacked, "Gee-up, my five horses."
"You must not say that," said Big Claus. But Little Claus soon forgot, and when any one passed he would call out, "Gee-up, my five horses!"
"Don't say that again," said Big Claus; "for if you do, I'll hit your horse on the head."
"Very well, I won't say it any more," said the other; but he cried out again for passers-by, "Gee-up, all my horses!"
"I'll gee-up your horses for you," said Big Claus; and struck the one horse of Little Claus on the head so that he fell dead.
"Oh, now I have no horse at all," said Little Claus. But then he dried the horse's skin and put it into a bag. Placing it over his shoulder, he went out into the next town to sell it. He was a practical man.
The conjuror takes shape
He had to pass through a dark, gloomy forest. A storm arose, and he lost his way, and before he discovered the right path, evening came on. It often happens, doesn't it?He came upon a large farmhouse. The shutters outside the windows were closed, but "I might get permission to stay here for the night," thought Little Claus; so he went up to the door and knocked. The wife came out. She told him the husband at the place never allowed her to welcome strangers.
"Then I'll have to lie outside somewhere," said Little Claus to himself. He then climbed to the roof of a shed beside the farmhouse. From there he noticed that the wooden shutters, which were closed, did not reach to the tops of the windows of the farmhouse. He could see into a room where there was a table laid out with wine, roast meat, and a splendid fish. The farmer's wife and the sexton were sitting at the table together; she filled his glass, and helped him plenteously to fish, which seemed to be his favourite dish.
"If only I could get some," thought Little Claus; and at this moment he heard some one riding down the road. It was the farmer returning home with a remarkable prejudice, he could not bear the sight of a sexton. When the farmer's wife heard her husband was coming, she was frightened and begged the sexton to hide himself. The woman then quickly put away the wine and hid all the rest of the nice things in the oven.
"Oh, dear," sighed Little Claus from the shed, he saw all the good things disappear.
"Is any one up there?" asked the farmer, looking up and discovering Little Claus. "Come down, into the house with me."
Little Claus came down and told the farmer how he had lost his way.
"All right," said the farmer; "we must have something to eat before you go to bed."
The woman placed before them a dish of porridge. The farmer was very hungry, and ate his porridge with a good appetite, but Little Claus could not help thinking of the nice roast meat, fish and pies tucked away in the oven. Under the table, at his feet, lay the sack containing the horse's skin. He trod with his foot on the sack and the dry skin squeaked quite loud.
"Hush!" said Little Claus to his sack, at the same time treading upon it again, till it squeaked once again. "It's a conjuror," said Little Claus to explain; "he says we don't need to eat porridge, for he has conjured the oven full of roast meat, fish, and pie."
The farmer started up and opened the oven door. There lay all the nice things, as Little Claus had said. The woman didn't dare to say anything, and they both ate of the fish, the meat, and the pastry.
Then Little Claus trod again upon his sack, and it squeaked as before and uttered. "He says that there are three bottles of wine for us, standing in the corner, by the oven."
So the woman had to bring out the wine she had hidden, and the farmer drank it till he became gay and more curious of what Little Claus carried in his sack.
"Could your conjuror bring Old Nick here as well?" asked the farmer.
"Oh, yes!" replied Little Claus, "but he fears that we shan't like to look at him. He's very much like a sexton."
"Then he must be ugly," concluded the farmer. "Now, let me gear up my courage, but don't let him come too near."
"The conjuror hints that all you've to do is to open the large chest in the corner. There you'll find him. But mind he's no buddy. Don't let your control slip when you meet him."
"Come and help me," said the farmer, he opened the lid just barely and peeped in. "Oh, I saw him like our sexton. How dreadful." Now he had to drink again, they sat and drank and drank.
"Sell your conjuror to me," said the farmer.
"No, I can't," said Little Claus, "well, on second though, you've been so good as to give me a night's lodging, I won't refuse you.
"Thank you," said the farmer; "and you'll have to take away the chest also. It's best to be on the safe side."
Little Claus gave the farmer the sack with the dried horse's skin, and was given a bushel of money - it was full measure. The farmer also gave him a wheelbarrow to carry away the chest and the gold on.
"Farewell," said Little Claus.
He made use of what he had. The taming trickster, Little Claus, took that road in his distress. So it seems.
Little Claus on his way up is looking to make money out of the distress of others - only that.
LITTLE Claus went off with his money and the great chest where the sexton still lay concealed. On one side of the forest was a broad, deep river. The water flowed so rapidly that very few were able to swim against the stream. A new bridge had lately been built across it, and Little Claus stopped on it, saying, "What shall I do with this alarming chest; it's as heavy as if it were full of stones: I may as well throw it in the river. It hardly matters."So he lifted up the chest somewhat, as if he was going to throw it into the river.
"Let me out first," cried the sexton from inside it. "I'll give you a whole bushel of money if you let me go."
"Okay," said Little Claus and opened the chest.
He went gruefully for solid money on his way up.
The sexton has to pay to keep alive
THE SEXTON crept out, then he measured out a whole bushel full of gold for Little Claus. He knew where to find it."I've been well paid for my horse," he said to himself after that. He emptied all his money into a heap on the floor back home.
"How vexed Big Claus will be; but I shan't tell him exactly how it all happened."
"What does this mean?" said Big Claus; he ran off directly to Little Claus and asked, "Where did you get all that money?"
"Oh, for my horse's skin."
"It was certainly well paid for then," said Big Claus and knocked all his four horses on the head, flayed off their skins, and took them to town to sell.
"Skins, skins, who will buy skins?" he cried.
"Are you mad?" all the people cried. "Have you killed four good horses for their skins?"
"Skins, skins," he cried again. To all who asked for the price, he said "a bushel of money," for that was what Little Claus had got.
"He's making fools of us," they concluded and began to beat Great Claus.
"Skins, skins!" they cried, mocking, "Tan all till all is black and blue. And out of the way with him," said they. Big Claus was forced to run, thoroughly beaten.
"Ah," said he, "Little Claus will have to pay; I'll beat him to death."
A skin is next to nothing compared to the able, living horse once enthroned in it.
The three times dead grandmother
MEANWHILE the cross, unkind, and really spiteful old grandmother of Little Claus died. He took the dead woman and laid her in his bed for the customary vigil. Late in the night he heard the door opened, and in came Big Claus with a hatchet. He knew where Little Claus's bed stood; so he went up to it in the dark and struck the grandmother on the head. He thought it must be Little Claus."There," he cried.
"That's a very wicked man, he meant to kill me. Happily, my grandmother was already dead when he struck her," decreed Little Claus an hour after Big Claus had left. Then he dressed the old hag in her best clothes, and harnessed a neighbour's horse to a cart. He placed the old woman on the back seat so that she might not fall out, and drove off towards town with her. By sunrise they reached a large inn. The musty landlord was rich.
"Good morning," he said to Little Claus; "you're fairly early today."
"Yes," said Little Claus; "Good man, take a glass of mead to my grandmother in the cart outside, please. But mind to speak loudly out there, as she seems deaf."
"That's for sure," said the musty landlord; and carried a glass of mead out to the dead grandmother. She sat upright.
"Here is a glass of mead," said the landlord. The dead woman did not answer a word.
"Don't you hear?" cried the landlord; "here is a glass of mead."
As she did not stir he flew into a passion, and struck her on the nose. She fell backwards into a pit.
"What's going on?" cried Little Claus, he came out and got hold of the landlord by the throat; "you've killed my grandmother."
"Very unfortunate. It comes of my fiery temper. Just keep silent about it, and I'll bury your grandmother as my own. Otherwise they'll cut off my head for it."
Little Claus was given one more bushel of money just to keep silent.
Old age hardly makes you pretty and lovely. And expect a trick or two, you too, as death is impending.
Another sacrificed grandmother - an old goat was not good enough.
BACK HOME the curious new riches were noticed by Big Claus, one way or other."How is this?" he muttered; "didn't I kill him?" He surveyed all the money Little Claus brought home this time.
"How did you get it all?" asked Big Claus and looked gruesome.
"You killed my grandmother the other night," said Little Claus, "I happened to sell the corpse for one more bushel of money."
"A good price," said Big Claus and killed his old grandmother without much consideration. Then he placed her on a cart, ready to sell her dead body, and drove to town.
"Where did you get it?" asked the apothecary.
"It's grandmother," he replied; "I can get a bushel of money for her."
"Heaven preserve us!" cried the apothecary. Then he talked very seriously to him about the wicked deed. Big Claus got frightened. He jumped into the cart, whipped up his horses, and drove home in a hurry. All the people thought him mad as a march hare.
"You'll pay for this, Little Claus," said Big Claus. He had been much fooled.
If you get fooled very often, it's natural to get enraged from deep inside, no matter what your neighbours would have you consider.
The sack and the perverted fools
AFTER reaching home with too much ado, Big Claus took the largest sack he could find and went over to Little Claus."You've played me another dear trick," he said. "But now you won't make a fool of me any more." He knocked Little Claus into the sack, saying, "Now let me drown you."
He had a long way to go before he reached a river, and Little Claus was not light. The road led by the church. They could hear the organ playing offensively.
"Oh dear, oh dear," sighed Little Claus in the sack, as he turned and twisted about. He tossed so much that Big Claus at last felt he had to put the sack down and take a rest on a pew. He went inside. Then an old and sick cattle driver came along. He was carrying a large staff in his hand, and drove a herd of cows. They stumbled against the sack that Little Claus lay inside, and turned it over.
"Oh dear," sighed Little Claus.
"Poor fellow," said the drover, "I'm not amused. Let me, who am so old already, go to paradise instead of you." He was of the extremely sorry kind.
"Open the sack for me then," cried Little Claus.
"With all my heart," replied the drover. "But will you take care of my cattle?" he asked as he crept into the bag.
"Yes," said Little Claus, and walked off with the cows and oxen.
Then Big Claus came out of church. He took up the sack.
"How light it seems after a church rest," he said to himself. He walked on to the river, where he threw the sack with the old drover into the water. He believed he was Little Claus.
"There you can lie!" he exclaimed. He felt satisfied. But as he came to a place where two roads crossed, he found Little Claus driving a large herd of cattle.
"How is this?" said Big Claus.
"You threw me into the river, big guy" said Little Claus. "These beasts are sea-cattle I came across down under, where I fell. Some day I should tell you the whole story and thank you for drowning me right here, for I am definitely above you now, stinkingly rich.
Down under warm winds whistled,"Why did you come up," said Big Claus, "if it was all so beautiful down under - down under the water? Is that good policy?"
But I did get harmed for it.
It was a funny thing,
The loveliest flowers and sweet fresh grass
I fell on beautifully soft grass where the sweetest little maiden came towards me.
She took me by the hand, saying,
"Here are some cattle for you and over there's another herd for you.'
I soon found I could drive the herds from the sea to the land at the river mouth.
"Well," said Little Claus, "it was good policy, for the pretty damsel said I could get all my cattle to grow and thrive more quickly on dry land. Look at them, how big they are."
"What a lucky fellow!" exclaimed Big Claus. "Do you think I can get any sea-cattle down under?"
"Yes, I think so. If you'll go there, creep into a sack, and I'll throw you in."
"Thank you," said Big Claus.
"Don't be too fierce about it!" said Little Claus as they walked on. When they approached the river, the cattle ran down to drink.
"See what a hurry," said Little Claus, "they are longing to get down."
"Come, make haste," said Big Claus. He crept into a large sack.
"Put in a stone to make sure I sink wonderfully," said Great Claus.
"Let there be nothing much to fear," his "expert" friend replied, and gave the sack with the stone and Big Claus inside a wrong push.
"Plump!" it said.
"I'm afraid he won't find much cattle," said Little Claus. He drove his own beasts home.
- "By his deeds we know a man." (African) [Dp 55]
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Literature
Dp: Fergusson, Rosalind. The Penguin Dictionary of Proverbs. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1983.
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