spring, beautiful spring, with its bright flowers and green leaves.
They arrived at a large town, the church bells were ringing merrily, and
they immediately recognised the high towers rising into the sky--it was
the town wherein they had lived. Joyfully they passed through the
streets, joyfully they stopped at the door of Gerda’s grandmother. They
walked up the stairs and entered the well-known room. The clock said
‘Tick, tick!’ and the hands moved as before. Only one alteration could
they find, and that was in themselves, for they saw that they were now
full-grown persons. The rose-trees on the roof blossomed in front of the
open window, and there beneath them stood the children’s stools. Kay and
Gerda went and sat down upon them, still holding each other by the
hands; the cold, hollow splendour of the Snow Queen’s palace they had
forgotten, it seemed to them only an unpleasant dream. The grandmother
meanwhile sat amid God’s bright sunshine, and read from the Bible these
words: ‘Unless ye become as little children, ye shall not enter into the
kingdom of heaven.’
And Kay and Gerda gazed on each other; they now understood the words of
their hymn--
‘Our roses bloom and fade away,
Our Infant Lord abides alway;
May we be blessed His face to see,
And ever little children be!’
There they sat, those two happy ones, grown-up and yet
children--children in heart, while all around them glowed bright
summer,--warm, glorious summer.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE ELFIN KING’S HOUSEKEEPER]
ELFIN-MOUNT
Several large lizards were running nimbly in and out among the clefts of
an old tree; they could understand each other perfectly well, for they
all spoke the lizards’ language. ‘Only hear what a rumbling and
grumbling there is in the old Elfin-mount yonder!’ observed one lizard.
‘I have not been able to close my eyes for the last two nights; I might
as well have had the toothache, for the sleep I have had!’
‘There is something in the wind, most certainly!’ rejoined the second
lizard. ‘They raise the Mount upon four red pillars till cock-crowing;
there is a regular cleaning and dusting going on, and the Elfin-maidens
are learning new dances--such a stamping they make in them! There is
certainly something in the wind!’
‘Yes; I have been talking it over with an earth-worm of my
acquaintance,’ said a third lizard. ‘The earth-worm has just come from
the Mount; he has been grubbing in the ground there for days and nights
together, and has overheard a good deal; he can’t see at all, poor
wretch! but no one can be quicker than he is at feeling and hearing.
They are expecting strangers at the Elfin-mount--distinguished
strangers; but who they are, the earth-worm would not say; most likely
he did not know. All the wills-o’-the-wisp are engaged to form a
procession of torches--so they call it; and all the silver and gold, of
which there is such a store in the Elfin-mount, is being fresh rubbed
up, and set out to shine in the moonlight.’
‘But who can these strangers be?’ exclaimed all the lizards with one
voice. ‘What can be in the wind? Only listen!--what buzzing and
humming!’
Just then the Elfin-mount parted asunder; and an elderly Elfin damsel
came tripping out--she was the old Elfin-King’s housekeeper, and
distantly related to his family, on which account she wore an amber
heart on her forehead, but was otherwise plainly dressed. Like all other
elves, she was hollow in the back. She was very quick and light-footed;
trip--trip--trip, away she ran, straight into the marsh, to the
night-raven. ‘You are invited to Elfin-mount, for this very evening,’
said she; ‘but will you not first do us a very great kindness, and be
the bearer of the other invitations? You do not keep house, yourself,
you know; so you can easily oblige us. We are expecting some very
distinguished strangers, Trolds in fact; and his Elfin Majesty intends
to welcome them in person.’
‘Who are to be invited?’ inquired the night-raven.
‘Why, to the grand ball all the world may come; even men, if they could
but talk in their sleep, or do a little bit of anything in our way. But
the first banquet must be very select; none but guests of the very
highest rank must be present. To say the truth, I and the King have been
having a little dispute; for I insist, that not even ghosts may be
admitted to-night. The Mer-King and his daughters must be invited first;
they don’t much like coming on land, but I’ll promise they shall each
have a wet stone, or, perhaps, something better still, to sit on; and
then, I think, they cannot possibly refuse us this time. All old Trolds
of the first rank we must have; also, the River-Spirit and the Nisses;
and, I fancy, we cannot pass over the Death-Horse and Kirkegrim; true,
they do not belong to our set, they are too solemn for us, but they are
connected with the family, and pay us regular visits.’
‘Caw!’ said the night-raven; and away he flew to bear the invitations.
The Elfin-maidens were still dancing in the Elfin-mount; they danced
with long scarfs woven from mist and moonlight, and for those who like
that sort of thing it looks pretty enough. The large state-room in the
Mount had been regularly cleaned and cleared out; the floor had been
washed with moonshine, and the walls rubbed with witches’ fat till they
shone as tulips do when held up to the light. In the kitchen, frogs were
roasting on the spit; while divers other choice dishes, such as mushroom
seed, hemlock soup, etc., were prepared or preparing. These were to
supply the first courses; rusty nails, bits of coloured glass, and such
like dainties, were to come in for the dessert; there was also bright
saltpetre wine, and ale brewed in the brewery of the Wise Witch of the
Moor.
The old Elfin-King’s gold crown had been fresh rubbed with
powdered slate-pencil; new curtains had been hung up in all the
sleeping-rooms,--yes, there was indeed a rare bustle and commotion.
‘Now, we must have the rooms scented with cows’ hairs and swine’s
bristles; and then, I think, I shall have done my part!’ said the
Elfin-King’s housekeeper.
‘Dear papa,’ said the youngest of the daughters, ‘won’t you tell me now
who these grand visitors are?’
‘Well!’ replied His Majesty, ‘I suppose there’s no use in keeping it a
secret. Let two of my daughters get themselves ready for their
wedding-day, that’s all! Two of them most certainly will be married. The
Chief of the Norwegian Trolds, he who dwells in old Dofrefield, and has
so many castles of freestone among these rocky fastnesses, besides a
gold-mine,--which is a capital thing, let me tell you,--he is coming
down here with his two boys, who are both to choose themselves a bride.
Such an honest, straightforward, true old Norseman is this mountain
chief! so merry and jovial! he and I are old comrades; he came down here
years ago to fetch his wife; she is dead now; she was the daughter of
the Rock-King at Möen. Oh, how I long to see the old Norseman again! His
sons, they say, are rough unmannerly cubs, but perhaps report may have
done them injustice, and at any rate they are sure to improve in a year
or two, when they have sown their wild oats. Let me see how you will
polish them up!’
[Illustration: THE MER-KING MUST BE INVITED FIRST]
‘And how soon are they to be here?’ inquired his youngest daughter
again.
‘That depends on wind and weather!’ returned the Elfin-King. ‘They
travel economically; they come at the ship’s convenience. I wanted them
to pass over by Sweden, but the old man would not hear of that. He does
not keep pace with the times, that’s the only fault I can find with
him.’
Just then two wills-o’-the-wisp were seen dancing up in a vast hurry,
each trying to get before the other, and to be the first to bring the
news.
‘They come, they come!’ cried both with one voice.
‘Give me my crown, and let me stand in the moonlight!’ said the
Elfin-King.
And his seven daughters lifted their long scarfs and bowed low to the
earth.
There stood the Trold Chief from the Dofrefield, wearing a crown
composed of icicles and polished pine cones; for the rest, he was
equipped in a bear-skin cloak and sledge-boots; his sons were clad more
slightly, and kept their throats uncovered, by way of showing that they
cared nothing about the cold.
‘Is that a mount?’ asked the youngest of them, pointing to it. ‘Why, up
in Norway we should call it a cave!’
‘You foolish boy!’ replied his father; ‘a cave you go into, a mount you
go up! Where are your eyes, not to see the difference?’
The only thing that surprised them in this country, they said, was that
the people should speak and understand their language.
‘Behave yourselves now!’ said the old man; ‘don’t let your host fancy
you never went into decent company before!’
And now they all entered the Elfin-mount, into the grand saloon, where a
really very select party was assembled, although at such short notice
that it seemed almost as though some fortunate gust of wind had blown
them together. And every possible arrangement had been made for the
comfort of each of the guests; the Mer-King’s family, for instance, sat
at table in large tubs of water, and they declared they felt quite as if
they were at home. All behaved with strict good-breeding except the two
young northern Trolds, who at last so far forgot themselves as to put
their legs on the table.
‘Take your legs away from the plates!’ said their father, and they
obeyed, but not so readily as they might have done. Presently they took
some pine cones out of their pockets and began pelting the lady who sat
between them, and then, finding their boots incommode them, they took
them off, and coolly gave them to this lady to hold. But their father,
the old mountain Chief, conducted himself very differently; he talked so
delightfully about the proud Norse mountains, and the torrents, white
with dancing spray, that dashed foaming down their rocky steeps with a
noise loud and hoarse as thunder, yet musical as the full burst of an
organ, touched by a master hand; he told of the salmon leaping up from
the wild waters while the Neck was playing on his golden harp; he told
of the star-light winter nights when the sledge bells tinkled so
merrily, and the youths ran with lighted torches over the icy crust, so
glassy and transparent that through it they could see the fishes
whirling to and fro in deadly terror beneath their feet; he told of the
gallant northern youths and pretty maidens singing songs of old time,
and dancing the Hallinge dance,--yes, so charmingly he described all
this, that you could not but fancy you heard and saw it all. Oh fie, for
shame: all of a sudden the mountain Chief turned round upon the elderly
Elfin maiden, and gave her a cousinly salute, and he was not yet
connected ever so remotely with the family.
The young Elfin-maidens were now called upon to dance. First they danced
simple dances, then stamping dances, and
[Illustration]
they did both remarkably well. Last came the most difficult of all, the
‘Dance out of the dance,’ as it was called. Bravo! how long their legs
seemed to grow, and how they whirled and spun about! You could hardly
distinguish legs from arms, or arms from legs. Round and round they
went, such whirling and twirling, such whirring and whizzing there was
that it made the death-horse feel quite dizzy, and at last he grew so
unwell that he was obliged to leave the table.
[Illustration: THEY FELT QUITE AS IF THEY WERE AT HOME]
‘Hurrah!’ cried the mountain Chief, ‘they know how to use their limbs
with a vengeance! but can they do nothing else than dance, stretch out
their feet, and spin round like a whirlwind?’
‘You shall judge for yourself,’ replied the Elfin-King, and here he
called the eldest of his daughters to him. She was transparent and fair
as moonlight; she was, in fact, the most delicate of all the sisters;
she put a white wand between her lips and vanished: that was her
accomplishment.
But the mountain Chief said he should not at all like his wife to
possess such an accomplishment as this, and he did not think his sons
would like it either.
The second could walk by the side of herself, just as though she had a
shadow, which elves and trolds never have.
The accomplishment of the third sister was of quite another kind: she
had learned how to brew good ale from the Wise Witch of the Moor, and
she also knew how to lard alder-wood with glow-worms.
‘She will make a capital housewife,’ remarked the old mountain Chief.
And now advanced the fourth Elfin damsel; she carried a large gold harp,
and no sooner had she struck the first chord than all the company lifted
their left feet--for elves are left-sided--and when she struck the
second chord, they were all compelled to do whatever she wished.
‘A dangerous lady, indeed!’ said the old Trold Chief. Both of his sons
now got up and strode out of the mount; they were heartily weary of
these accomplishments.
‘And what can the next daughter do?’ asked the mountain Chief.
‘I have learned to love the north,’ replied she, ‘and I have resolved
never to marry unless I may go to Norway.’
But the youngest of the sisters whispered to the old man, ‘That is only
because she has heard an old Norse rhyme, which says that when the end
of the world shall come, the Norwegian rocks shall stand firm amid the
ruins; she is very much afraid of death, and therefore she wants to go
to Norway.’
‘Ho, ho!’ cried the mountain Chief, ‘sits the wind in that quarter? But
what can the seventh and last do?’
‘The sixth comes before the seventh,’ said the Elfin-King; for he could
count better than to make such a mistake. However, the sixth seemed in
no hurry to come forward.
‘I can only tell people the truth,’ said she. ‘Let no one trouble
himself about me; I have enough to do to sew my shroud!’
And now came the seventh and last, and what could she do? Why, she could
tell fairy tales, as many as any one could wish to hear.
‘Here are my five fingers,’ said the mountain Chief; ‘tell me a story
for each finger.’
And the Elfin-maiden took hold of his wrist, and told her stories, and
he laughed till his sides ached, and when she came to the finger that
wore a gold ring, as though it knew it might be wanted, the mountain
Chief suddenly exclaimed, ‘Hold fast what thou hast; the hand is thine!
I will have thee myself to wife!’ But the Elfin-maiden said that she had
still two more stories to tell, one for the ring-finger, and another for
the little finger.
‘Keep them for next winter, we’ll hear them then,’ replied the mountain
Chief. ‘And we’ll hear about the “Loves of the Fir-Tree and the Birch,”
about the Valkyria’s gifts too, for we all love fairy legends in Norway,
and no one there can tell them so charmingly as thou dost. And then we
will sit in our rocky halls, whilst the fir-logs are blazing and
crackling in the stove, and drink mead out of the golden horns of the
old Norse kings; the Neck has taught me a few of his rare old ditties,
besides the Garbo will often come and pay us a visit, and he will sing
thee all the sweet songs that the mountain maidens sang in days of
yore;--that will be most delightful! The salmon in the torrent will
spring up and beat himself against the rock walls, but in vain, he will
not be able to get in. Oh, thou canst not imagine what a happy, glorious
life we lead in that dear old Norway! But where are the boys?’
Where were the boys? Why, they were racing about in the fields and
blowing out the poor wills-o’-the-wisp, who were just ranging themselves
in the proper order to make a procession of torches.
‘What do you mean by making all this riot?’ inquired the mountain Chief.
‘I have been choosing you a mother; now you come and choose yourselves
wives from among your aunts.’
[Illustration: I WILL HAVE THEE MYSELF TO WIFE]
But his sons said they would rather make speeches and drink toasts; they
had not the slightest wish to marry. And accordingly they made speeches,
tossed off their glasses and turned them topsy-turvy on the table, to
show that they were quite empty; after this they took off their coats,
and most unceremoniously lay down on the table and went to sleep. But
the old mountain Chief, the while, danced round the hall with his young
bride, and exchanged boots with her, because that is not so vulgar as
exchanging rings.
‘Listen, the cock is crowing!’ exclaimed the lady-housekeeper. ‘We must
make haste and shut the window-shutters close, or the sun will scorch
our complexions.’
And herewith Elfin-mount closed.
But outside, in the cloven trunk, the lizards kept running up and down,
and one and all declared, ‘What a capital fellow that old Norwegian
Trold is!’ ‘For my part, I prefer the boys,’ said the earth-worm;--but
he, poor wretch, could see nothing either of them or of their father, so
his opinion was not worth much.
[Illustration: THE LITTLE MERMAID]
THE LITTLE MERMAID
Far out in the wide sea,--where the water is blue as the loveliest
cornflower, and clear as the purest crystal, where it is so deep that
very, very many church-towers must be heaped one upon another in order
to reach from the lowest depth to the surface above,--dwell the
Mer-people.
Now you must not imagine that there is nothing but sand below the water:
no, indeed, far from it! Trees and plants of wondrous beauty grow there,
whose stems and leaves are so light, that they are waved to and fro by
the slightest motion of the water, almost as if they were living beings.
Fishes, great and small, glide in and out among the branches, just as
birds fly about among our trees.
Where the water is deepest stands the palace of the Mer-king. The walls
of this palace are of coral, and the high, pointed windows are of amber;
the roof, however, is composed of mussel-shells, which, as the billows
pass over them, are continually opening and shutting. This looks
exceedingly pretty, especially as each of these mussel-shells contains a
number of bright, glittering pearls, one only of which would be the most
costly ornament in the diadem of a king in the upper world.
The Mer-king, who lived in this palace, had been for many years a
widower; his old mother managed the household affairs for him. She was,
on the whole, a sensible sort of a lady, although extremely proud of
her high birth and station, on which account she wore twelve oysters on
her tail, whilst the other inhabitants of the sea, even those of
distinction, were allowed only six. In every other respect she merited
unlimited praise, especially for the affection she showed to the six
little princesses, her grand-daughters. These were all very beautiful
children; the youngest was, however, the most lovely; her skin was as
soft and delicate as a rose-leaf, her eyes were of as deep a blue as the
sea, but like all other mermaids, she had no feet, her body ended in a
tail like that of a fish.
The whole day long the children used to play in the spacious apartments
of the palace, where beautiful flowers grew out of the walls on all
sides around them. When the great amber windows were opened, fishes
would swim into these apartments as swallows fly into our rooms; but the
fishes were bolder than the swallows, they swam straight up to the
little princesses, ate from their hands, and allowed themselves to be
caressed.
In front of the palace there was a large garden, full of fiery red and
dark blue trees, whose fruit glittered like gold, and whose flowers
resembled a bright, burning sun. The sand that formed the soil of the
garden was of a bright blue colour, something like flames of sulphur;
and a strangely beautiful blue was spread over the whole, so that one
might have fancied oneself raised very high in the air, with the sky at
once above and below, certainly not at the bottom of the sea. When the
waters were quite still, the sun might be seen looking like a purple
flower, out of whose cup streamed forth the light of the world.
Each of the little princesses had her own plot in the garden, where she
might plant and sow at her pleasure. One chose hers to be made in the
shape of a whale, another preferred the figure of a mermaid, but the
youngest had hers quite round
[Illustration]
like the sun, and planted in it only those flowers that were red, as the
sun seemed to her. She was certainly a singular child, very quiet and
thoughtful. Whilst her sisters were adorning themselves with all sorts
of gay things that came out of a ship which had been wrecked, she asked
for nothing but a beautiful white marble statue of a boy, which had been
found in it. She put the statue in her garden, and planted a red weeping
willow by its side. The tree grew up quickly, and let its long boughs
fall upon the bright blue ground, where ever-moving shadows played in
violet hues, as if boughs and root were embracing.
Nothing pleased the little princess more than to hear about the world of
human beings living above the sea. She made her old grandmother tell her
everything she knew about ships, towns, men, and land animals, and was
particularly pleased when she heard that the flowers of the upper world
had a pleasant fragrance (for the flowers of the sea are scentless), and
that the woods were green, and the fishes fluttering among the branches
of various gay colours, and that they could sing with a loud clear
voice. The old lady meant birds, but she called them fishes, because her
grandchildren, having never seen a bird, would not otherwise have
understood her.
‘When you have attained your fifteenth year,’ added she, ‘you will be
permitted to rise to the surface of the sea; you will then sit by
moonlight in the clefts of the rocks, see the ships sail by, and learn
to distinguish towns and men.’
The next year the eldest of the sisters reached this happy age, but the
others--alas! the second sister was a year younger than the eldest, the
third a year younger than the second, and so on; the youngest had still
five whole years to wait till that joyful time should come when she also
might rise to the surface of the water and see what was going on in the
upper world; however, the eldest promised to tell the others of
everything she might see, when the first day of her being of age
arrived; for the grandmother gave them but little information, and there
was so much that they wished to hear.
But none of all the sisters longed so ardently for the day when she
should be released from childish restraint as the youngest, she who had
longest to wait, and was so quiet and thoughtful. Many a night she stood
by the open window, looking up through the clear blue water, whilst the
fishes were leaping and playing around her. She could see the sun and
the moon; their light was pale, but they appeared larger than they do to
those who live in the upper world. If a shadow passed over them, she
knew it must be either a whale or a ship sailing by full of human
beings, who indeed little thought that, far beneath them, a little
mermaid was passionately stretching forth her white hands towards their
ship’s keel.
The day had now arrived when the eldest princess had attained her
fifteenth year, and was therefore allowed to rise up to the surface of
the sea.
When she returned she had a thousand things to relate. Her chief
pleasure had been to sit upon a sandbank in the moonlight, looking at
the large town which lay on the coast, where lights were beaming like
stars, and where music was playing; she had heard the distant noise of
men and carriages, she had seen the high church-towers, had listened to
the ringing of the bells; and just because she could not go there she
longed the more after all these things.
How attentively did her youngest sister listen to her words! And when
she next stood at night-time by her open window, gazing upward through
the blue waters, she thought so intensely of the great noisy city that
she fancied she could hear the church-bells ringing.
Next year the second sister received permission to swim wherever she
pleased. She rose to the surface of the sea, just when the sun was
setting; and this sight so delighted her, that she declared it to be
more beautiful than anything else she had seen above the waters.