“Dear children, let us not tire of a good work, hard though it be and
wearisome; think of the many little hearts that in their sorrow look to
us for help. What would the green earth be without its lovely flowers,
and what a lonely home for us! Their beauty fills our hearts with
brightness, and their love with tender thoughts. Ought we then to leave
them to die uncared for and alone? They give to us their all; ought we
not to toil unceasingly, that they may bloom in peace within their
quiet homes? We have tried to gain the love of the stern Frost-King,
but in vain; his heart is hard as his own icy land; no love can melt,
no kindness bring it back to sunlight and to joy. How then may we keep
our frail blossoms from his cruel spirits? Who will give us counsel?
Who will be our messenger for the last time? Speak, my subjects.”
Then a great murmuring arose, and many spoke, some for costlier gifts,
some for war; and the fearful counselled patience and submission.
Long and eagerly they spoke, and their soft voices rose high.
Then sweet music sounded on the air, and the loud tones were hushed, as
in wondering silence the Fairies waited what should come.
Through the crowd there came a little form, a wreath of pure white
violets lay among the bright locks that fell so softly round the gentle
face, where a deep blush glowed, as, kneeling at the throne, little
Violet said:—
“Dear Queen, we have bent to the Frost-King’s power, we have borne
gifts unto his pride, but have we gone trustingly to him and spoken
fearlessly of his evil deeds? Have we shed the soft light of unwearied
love around his cold heart, and with patient tenderness shown him how
bright and beautiful love can make even the darkest lot?
“Our messengers have gone fearfully, and with cold looks and courtly
words offered him rich gifts, things he cared not for, and with equal
pride has he sent them back.
“Then let me, the weakest of your band, go to him, trusting in the love
I know lies hidden in the coldest heart.
“I will bear only a garland of our fairest flowers; these will I wind
about him, and their bright faces, looking lovingly in his, will bring
sweet thoughts to his dark mind, and their soft breath steal in like
gentle words. Then, when he sees them fading on his breast, will he not
sigh that there is no warmth there to keep them fresh and lovely? This
will I do, dear Queen, and never leave his dreary home, till the
sunlight falls on flowers fair as those that bloom in our own dear
land.”
Silently the Queen had listened, but now, rising and placing her hand
on little Violet’s head, she said, turning to the throng below:— “We in
our pride and power have erred, while this, the weakest and lowliest of
our subjects, has from the innocence of her own pure heart counselled
us more wisely than the noblest of our train. All who will aid our
brave little messenger, lift your wands, that we may know who will
place their trust in the Power of Love.”
Every fairy wand glistened in the air, as with silvery voices they
cried, “Love and little Violet.”
Then down from the throne, hand in hand, came the Queen and Violet, and
till the moon sank did the Fairies toil, to weave a wreath of the
fairest flowers. Tenderly they gathered them, with the night-dew fresh
upon their leaves, and as they wove chanted sweet spells, and whispered
fairy blessings on the bright messengers whom they sent forth to die in
a dreary land, that their gentle kindred might bloom unharmed.
At length it was done; and the fair flowers lay glowing in the soft
starlight, while beside them stood the Fairies, singing to the music of
the wind-harps:—
We are sending you, dear flowers,
Forth alone to die,
Where your gentle sisters may not weep
O’er the cold graves where you lie;
But you go to bring them fadeless life
In the bright homes where they dwell,
And you softly smile that ’t is so,
As we sadly sing farewell.
O plead with gentle words for us,
And whisper tenderly
Of generous love to that cold heart,
And it will answer ye;
And though you fade in a dreary home,
Yet loving hearts will tell
Of the joy and peace that you have given:
Flowers, dear flowers, farewell!”
The morning sun looked softly down upon the broad green earth, which
like a mighty altar was sending up clouds of perfume from its breast,
while flowers danced gayly in the summer wind, and birds sang their
morning hymn among the cool green leaves. Then high above, on shining
wings, soared a little form. The sunlight rested softly on the silken
hair, and the winds fanned lovingly the bright face, and brought the
sweetest odors to cheer her on.
Thus went Violet through the clear air, and the earth looked smiling up
to her, as, with the bright wreath folded in her arms, she flew among
the soft, white clouds.
On and on she went, over hill and valley, broad rivers and rustling
woods, till the warm sunlight passed away, the winds grew cold, and the
air thick with falling snow. Then far below she saw the Frost-King’s
home. Pillars of hard, gray ice supported the high, arched roof, hung
with crystal icicles. Dreary gardens lay around, filled with withered
flowers and bare, drooping trees; while heavy clouds hung low in the
dark sky, and a cold wind murmured sadly through the wintry air.
With a beating heart Violet folded her fading wreath more closely to
her breast, and with weary wings flew onward to the dreary palace.
Here, before the closed doors, stood many forms with dark faces and
harsh, discordant voices, who sternly asked the shivering little Fairy
why she came to them.
Gently she answered, telling them her errand, beseeching them to let
her pass ere the cold wind blighted her frail blossoms. Then they flung
wide the doors, and she passed in.
Walls of ice, carved with strange figures, were around her; glittering
icicles hung from the high roof, and soft, white snow covered the hard
floors. On a throne hung with clouds sat the Frost-King; a crown of
crystals bound his white locks, and a dark mantle wrought with delicate
frost-work was folded over his cold breast.
His stern face could not stay little Violet, and on through the long
hall she went, heedless of the snow that gathered on her feet, and the
bleak wind that blew around her; while the King with wondering eyes
looked on the golden light that played upon the dark walls as she
passed.
The flowers, as if they knew their part, unfolded their bright leaves,
and poured forth their sweetest perfume, as, kneeling at the throne,
the brave little Fairy said,—
“O King of blight and sorrow, send me not away till I have brought back
the light and joy that will make your dark home bright and beautiful
again. Let me call back to the desolate gardens the fair forms that are
gone, and their soft voices blessing you will bring to your breast a
never failing joy. Cast by your icy crown and sceptre, and let the
sunlight of love fall softly on your heart.
“Then will the earth bloom again in all its beauty, and your dim eyes
will rest only on fair forms, while music shall sound through these
dreary halls, and the love of grateful hearts be yours. Have pity on
the gentle flower-spirits, and do not doom them to an early death, when
they might bloom in fadeless beauty, making us wiser by their gentle
teachings, and the earth brighter by their lovely forms. These fair
flowers, with the prayers of all Fairy Land, I lay before you; O send
me not away till they are answered.”
And with tears falling thick and fast upon their tender leaves, Violet
laid the wreath at his feet, while the golden light grew ever brighter
as it fell upon the little form so humbly kneeling there.
The King’s stern face grew milder as he gazed on the gentle Fairy, and
the flowers seemed to look beseechingly upon him; while their fragrant
voices sounded softly in his ear, telling of their dying sisters, and
of the joy it gives to bring happiness to the weak and sorrowing. But
he drew the dark mantle closer over his breast and answered coldly,—
“I cannot grant your prayer, little Fairy; it is my will the flowers
should die. Go back to your Queen, and tell her that I cannot yield my
power to please these foolish flowers.”
Then Violet hung the wreath above the throne, and with weary foot went
forth again, out into the cold, dark gardens, and still the golden
shadows followed her, and wherever they fell, flowers bloomed and green
leaves rustled.
Then came the Frost-Spirits, and beneath their cold wings the flowers
died, while the Spirits bore Violet to a low, dark cell, saying as they
left her, that their King was angry that she had dared to stay when he
had bid her go.
So all alone she sat, and sad thoughts of her happy home came back to
her, and she wept bitterly. But soon came visions of the gentle flowers
dying in their forest homes, and their voices ringing in her ear,
imploring her to save them. Then she wept no longer, but patiently
awaited what might come.
Soon the golden light gleamed faintly through the cell, and she heard
little voices calling for help, and high up among the heavy cobwebs
hung poor little flies struggling to free themselves, while their cruel
enemies sat in their nets, watching their pain.
With her wand the Fairy broke the bands that held them, tenderly bound
up their broken wings, and healed their wounds; while they lay in the
warm light, and feebly hummed their thanks to their kind deliverer.
Then she went to the ugly brown spiders, and in gentle words told them,
how in Fairy Land their kindred spun all the elfin cloth, and in return
the Fairies gave them food, and then how happily they lived among the
green leaves, spinning garments for their neighbors. “And you too,”
said she, “shall spin for me, and I will give you better food than
helpless insects. You shall live in peace, and spin your delicate
threads into a mantle for the stern King; and I will weave golden
threads amid the gray, that when folded over his cold heart gentle
thoughts may enter in and make it their home.”
And while she gayly sung, the little weavers spun their silken threads,
the flies on glittering wings flew lovingly above her head, and over
all the golden light shone softly down.
When the Frost-Spirits told their King, he greatly wondered and often
stole to look at the sunny little room where friends and enemies worked
peacefully together. Still the light grew brighter, and floated out
into the cold air, where it hung like bright clouds above the dreary
gardens, whence all the Spirits’ power could not drive it; and green
leaves budded on the naked trees, and flowers bloomed; but the Spirits
heaped snow upon them, and they bowed their heads and died.
At length the mantle was finished, and amid the gray threads shone
golden ones, making it bright; and she sent it to the King, entreating
him to wear it, for it would bring peace and love to dwell within his
breast.
But he scornfully threw it aside, and bade his Spirits take her to a
colder cell, deep in the earth; and there with harsh words they left
her.
Still she sang gayly on, and the falling drops kept time so musically,
that the King in his cold ice-halls wondered at the low, sweet sounds
that came stealing up to him.
Thus Violet dwelt, and each day the golden light grew stronger; and
from among the crevices of the rocky walls came troops of little
velvet-coated moles, praying that they might listen to the sweet music,
and lie in the warm light.
“We lead,” said they, “a dreary life in the cold earth; the
flower-roots are dead, and no soft dews descend for us to drink, no
little seed or leaf can we find. Ah, good Fairy, let us be your
servants: give us but a few crumbs of your daily bread, and we will do
all in our power to serve you.”
And Violet said, Yes; so day after day they labored to make a pathway
through the frozen earth, that she might reach the roots of the
withered flowers; and soon, wherever through the dark galleries she
went, the soft light fell upon the roots of flowers, and they with new
life spread forth in the warm ground, and forced fresh sap to the
blossoms above. Brightly they bloomed and danced in the soft light, and
the Frost-Spirits tried in vain to harm them, for when they came
beneath the bright clouds their power to do evil left them.
From his dark castle the King looked out on the happy flowers, who
nodded gayly to him, and in sweet colors strove to tell him of the good
little Spirit, who toiled so faithfully below, that they might live.
And when he turned from the brightness without, to his stately palace,
it seemed so cold and dreary, that he folded Violet’s mantle round him,
and sat beneath the faded wreath upon his ice-carved throne, wondering
at the strange warmth that came from it; till at length he bade his
Spirits bring the little Fairy from her dismal prison.
Soon they came hastening back, and prayed him to come and see how
lovely the dark cell had grown. The rough floor was spread with deep
green moss, and over wall and roof grew flowery vines, filling the air
with their sweet breath; while above played the clear, soft light,
casting rosy shadows on the glittering drops that lay among the
fragrant leaves; and beneath the vines stood Violet, casting crumbs to
the downy little moles who ran fearlessly about and listened as she
sang to them.
When the old King saw how much fairer she had made the dreary cell than
his palace rooms, gentle thoughts within whispered him to grant her
prayer, and let the little Fairy go back to her friends and home; but
the Frost-Spirits breathed upon the flowers and bid him see how frail
they were, and useless to a King. Then the stern, cold thoughts came
back again, and he harshly bid her follow him.
With a sad farewell to her little friends she followed him, and before
the throne awaited his command. When the King saw how pale and sad the
gentle face had grown, how thin her robe, and weak her wings, and yet
how lovingly the golden shadows fell around her and brightened as they
lay upon the wand, which, guided by patient love, had made his once
desolate home so bright, he could not be cruel to the one who had done
so much for him, and in kindly tone he said,—
“Little Fairy, I offer you two things, and you may choose between them.
If I will vow never more to harm the flowers you may love, will you go
back to your own people and leave me and my Spirits to work our will on
all the other flowers that bloom? The earth is broad, and we can find
them in any land, then why should you care what happens to their
kindred if your own are safe? Will you do this?”
“Ah!” answered Violet sadly, “do you not know that beneath the flowers’
bright leaves there beats a little heart that loves and sorrows like
our own? And can I, heedless of their beauty, doom them to pain and
grief, that I might save my own dear blossoms from the cruel foes to
which I leave them? Ah no! sooner would I dwell for ever in your
darkest cell, than lose the love of those warm, trusting hearts.”
“Then listen,” said the King, “to the task I give you. You shall raise
up for me a palace fairer than this, and if you can work that miracle I
will grant your prayer or lose my kingly crown. And now go forth, and
begin your task; my Spirits shall not harm you, and I will wait till it
is done before I blight another flower.”
Then out into the gardens went Violet with a heavy heart; for she had
toiled so long, her strength was nearly gone. But the flowers whispered
their gratitude, and folded their leaves as if they blessed her; and
when she saw the garden filled with loving friends, who strove to cheer
and thank her for her care, courage and strength returned; and raising
up thick clouds of mist, that hid her from the wondering flowers, alone
and trustingly she began her work.
As time went by, the Frost-King feared the task had been too hard for
the Fairy; sounds were heard behind the walls of mist, bright shadows
seen to pass within, but the little voice was never heard. Meanwhile
the golden light had faded from the garden, the flowers bowed their
heads, and all was dark and cold as when the gentle Fairy came.
And to the stern King his home seemed more desolate and sad; for he
missed the warm light, the happy flowers, and, more than all, the gay
voice and bright face of little Violet. So he wandered through his
dreary palace, wondering how he had been content to live before without
sunlight and love.
And little Violet was mourned as dead in Fairy-Land, and many tears
were shed, for the gentle Fairy was beloved by all, from the Queen down
to the humblest flower. Sadly they watched over every bird and blossom
which she had loved, and strove to be like her in kindly words and
deeds. They wore cypress wreaths, and spoke of her as one whom they
should never see again.
Thus they dwelt in deepest sorrow, till one day there came to them an
unknown messenger, wrapped in a dark mantle, who looked with wondering
eyes on the bright palace, and flower-crowned elves, who kindly
welcomed him, and brought fresh dew and rosy fruit to refresh the weary
stranger. Then he told them that he came from the Frost-King, who
begged the Queen and all her subjects to come and see the palace little
Violet had built; for the veil of mist would soon be withdrawn, and as
she could not make a fairer home than the ice-castle, the King wished
her kindred near to comfort and to bear her home. And while the Elves
wept, he told them how patiently she had toiled, how her fadeless love
had made the dark cell bright and beautiful.
These and many other things he told them; for little Violet had won the
love of many of the Frost-Spirits, and even when they killed the
flowers she had toiled so hard to bring to life and beauty, she spoke
gentle words to them, and sought to teach them how beautiful is love.
Long stayed the messenger, and deeper grew his wonder that the Fairy
could have left so fair a home, to toil in the dreary palace of his
cruel master, and suffer cold and weariness, to give life and joy to
the weak and sorrowing. When the Elves had promised they would come, he
bade farewell to happy Fairy-Land, and flew sadly home.
At last the time arrived, and out in his barren garden, under a canopy
of dark clouds, sat the Frost-King before the misty wall, behind which
were heard low, sweet sounds, as of rustling trees and warbling birds.
Soon through the air came many-colored troops of Elves. First the
Queen, known by the silver lilies on her snowy robe and the bright
crown in her hair, beside whom flew a band of Elves in crimson and
gold, making sweet music on their flower-trumpets, while all around,
with smiling faces and bright eyes, fluttered her loving subjects.
On they came, like a flock of brilliant butterflies, their shining
wings and many-colored garments sparkling in the dim air; and soon the
leafless trees were gay with living flowers, and their sweet voices
filled the gardens with music. Like his subjects, the King looked on
the lovely Elves, and no longer wondered that little Violet wept and
longed for her home. Darker and more desolate seemed his stately home,
and when the Fairies asked for flowers, he felt ashamed that he had
none to give them.
At length a warm wind swept through the gardens, and the mist-clouds
passed away, while in silent wonder looked the Frost-King and the Elves
upon the scene before them.
Far as eye could reach were tall green trees whose drooping boughs made
graceful arches, through which the golden light shone softly, making
bright shadows on the deep green moss below, where the fairest flowers
waved in the cool wind, and sang, in their low, sweet voices, how
beautiful is Love.
Flowering vines folded their soft leaves around the trees, making green
pillars of their rough trunks. Fountains threw their bright waters to
the roof, and flocks of silver-winged birds flew singing among the
flowers, or brooded lovingly above their nests. Doves with gentle eyes
cooed among the green leaves, snow-white clouds floated in the sunny
sky, and the golden light, brighter than before, shone softly down.
Soon through the long aisles came Violet, flowers and green leaves
rustling as she passed. On she went to the Frost-King’s throne, bearing
two crowns, one of sparkling icicles, the other of pure white lilies,
and kneeling before him, said,—
“My task is done, and, thanks to the Spirits of earth and air, I have
made as fair a home as Elfin hands can form. You must now decide. Will
you be King of Flower-Land, and own my gentle kindred for your loving
friends? Will you possess unfading peace and joy, and the grateful love
of all the green earth’s fragrant children? Then take this crown of
flowers. But if you can find no pleasure here, go back to your own cold
home, and dwell in solitude and darkness, where no ray of sunlight or
of joy can enter.
“Send forth your Spirits to carry sorrow and desolation over the happy
earth, and win for yourself the fear and hatred of those who would so
gladly love and reverence you. Then take this glittering crown, hard
and cold as your own heart will be, if you will shut out all that is
bright and beautiful. Both are before you. Choose.”
The old King looked at the little Fairy, and saw how lovingly the
bright shadows gathered round her, as if to shield her from every harm;
the timid birds nestled in her bosom, and the flowers grew fairer as
she looked upon them; while her gentle friends, with tears in their
bright eyes, folded their hands beseechingly, and smiled on her.
Kind thought came thronging to his mind, and he turned to look at the
two palaces. Violet’s, so fair and beautiful, with its rustling trees,
calm, sunny skies, and happy birds and flowers, all created by her
patient love and care. His own, so cold and dark and dreary, his empty
gardens where no flowers could bloom, no green trees dwell, or gay
birds sing, all desolate and dim;—and while he gazed, his own Spirits,
casting off their dark mantles, knelt before him and besought him not
to send them forth to blight the things the gentle Fairies loved so
much. “We have served you long and faithfully,” said they, “give us now
our freedom, that we may learn to be beloved by the sweet flowers we
have harmed so long. Grant the little Fairy’s prayer; and let her go
back to her own dear home. She has taught us that Love is mightier than
Fear. Choose the Flower crown, and we will be the truest subjects you
have ever had.”
Then, amid a burst of wild, sweet music, the Frost-King placed the
Flower crown on his head, and knelt to little Violet; while far and
near, over the broad green earth, sounded the voices of flowers,
singing their thanks to the gentle Fairy, and the summer wind was laden
with perfumes, which they sent as tokens of their gratitude; and
wherever she went, old trees bent down to fold their slender branches
round her, flowers laid their soft faces against her own, and whispered
blessings; even the humble moss bent over the little feet, and kissed
them as they passed.
The old King, surrounded by the happy Fairies, sat in Violet’s lovely
home, and watched his icy castle melt away beneath the bright sunlight;
while his Spirits, cold and gloomy no longer, danced with the Elves,
and waited on their King with loving eagerness. Brighter grew the
golden light, gayer sang the birds, and the harmonious voices of
grateful flowers, sounding over the earth, carried new joy to all their
gentle kindred.
Brighter shone the golden shadows;
On the cool wind softly came
The low, sweet tones of happy flowers,
Singing little Violet’s name.
’Mong the green trees was it whispered,
And the bright waves bore it on
To the lonely forest flowers,
Where the glad news had not gone.
Thus the Frost-King lost his kingdom,
And his power to harm and blight.
Violet conquered, and his cold heart
Warmed with music, love, and light;
And his fair home, once so dreary,
Gay with lovely Elves and flowers,
Brought a joy that never faded
Through the long bright summer hours.
Thus, by Violet’s magic power,
All dark shadows passed away,
And o’er the home of happy flowers
The golden light for ever lay.
Thus the Fairy mission ended,
And all Flower-Land was taught
The “Power of Love,” by gentle deeds
That little Violet wrought.
As Sunny Lock ceased, another little Elf came forward; and this was the
tale “Silver Wing” told.