OF THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE THREE BROTHERS AFTER THE VISIT OF SOUTH-WEST
WIND, ESQUIRE; AND HOW LITTLE GLUCK HAD AN INTERVIEW WITH THE KING OF
THE GOLDEN RIVER.
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South-west wind, Esquire, was as good as his word. After the momentous
visit above related, he entered the Treasure Valley no more; and, what
was worse, he had so much influence with his relations, the West Winds
in general, and used it so effectually, that they all adopted a similar
line of conduct. So no rain fell in the valley from one year's end to
another. Though everything remained green and flourishing in the plains
below, the inheritance of the Three Brothers was a desert. What had once
been the richest soil in the kingdom, became a shifting heap of red
sand; and the brothers, unable longer to contend with the adverse skies,
abandoned their valueless patrimony in despair, to seek some means of
gaining a livelihood among the cities and people of the plains. All
their money was gone, and they had nothing left but some curious
old-fashioned pieces of gold plate, the last remnants of their
ill-gotten wealth.
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"Suppose we turn goldsmiths?" said Schwartz to Hans, as they entered the
large city. "It is a good knave's trade; we can put a great deal of
copper into the gold, without any one's finding it out."
The thought was agreed to be a very good one; they hired a furnace, and
turned goldsmiths. But two slight circumstances affected their trade:
the first, that people did not approve of the coppered gold; the second,
that the two elder brothers, whenever they had sold anything, used to
leave little Gluck to mind the furnace, and go and drink out the money
in the ale-house next door. So they melted all their gold, without
making money enough to buy more, and were at last reduced to one large
drinking mug, which an uncle of his had given to little Gluck, and which
he was very fond of, and would not have parted with for the world;
though he never drank anything out of it but milk and water. The mug was
a very odd mug to look at. The handle was formed of two wreaths of
flowing golden hair, so finely spun that it looked more like silk than
metal, and these wreaths descended into, and mixed with, a beard and
whiskers of the same exquisite workmanship, which surrounded and
decorated a very fierce little face, of the reddest gold imaginable,
right in the front of the mug, with a pair of eyes in it which seemed to
command its whole circumference. It was impossible to drink out of the
mug without being subjected to an intense gaze out of the side of these
eyes; and Schwartz positively averred, that once, after emptying it,
full of Rhenish, seventeen times, he had seen them wink! When it came to
the mug's turn to be made into spoons, it half broke poor little Gluck's
heart; but the brothers only laughed at him, tossed the mug into the
melting-pot, and staggered out to the ale-house: leaving him, as usual,
to pour the gold into bars, when it was all ready.
When they were gone, Gluck took a farewell look at his old friend in the
melting-pot. The flowing hair was all gone; nothing remained but the red
nose, and the sparkling eyes, which looked more malicious than ever.
"And no wonder," thought Gluck, "after being treated in that way." He
sauntered disconsolately to the window, and sat himself down to catch
the fresh evening air, and escape the hot breath of the furnace. Now
this window commanded a direct view of the range of mountains, which, as
I told you before, overhung the Treasure Valley, and more especially of
the peak from which fell the Golden River. It was just at the close of
the day, and, when Gluck sat down at the window, he saw the rocks of the
mountain tops, all crimson and purple with the sunset; and there were
bright tongues of fiery cloud burning and quivering about them; and the
river, brighter than all, fell, in a waving column of pure gold, from
precipice to precipice, with the double arch of a broad purple rainbow
stretched across it, flushing and fading alternately in the wreaths of
spray.
[Illustration]
"Ah!" said Gluck aloud, after he had looked at it for a while, "if that
river were really all gold, what a nice thing it would be."
"No, it wouldn't, Gluck," said a clear, metallic voice, close at his
ear.
"Bless me, what's that?" exclaimed Gluck, jumping up. There was nobody
there. He looked round the room, and under the table, and a great many
times behind him, but there was certainly nobody there, and he sat down
again at the window. This time he didn't speak, but he couldn't help
thinking again that it would be very convenient if the river were really
all gold.
"Not at all, my boy," said the same voice, louder than before.
"Bless me!" said Gluck again, "what _is_ that?" He looked again into all
the corners and cupboards, and then began turning round and round as
fast as he could in the middle of the room, thinking there was somebody
behind him, when the same voice struck again on his ear. It was singing
now, very merrily, "Lala-lira-la;" no words, only a soft running
effervescent melody, something like that of a kettle on the boil. Gluck
looked out of the window. No, it was certainly in the house. Up stairs,
and down stairs. No, it was certainly in that very room, coming in
quicker time and clearer notes every moment. "Lala-lira-la." All at once
it struck Gluck that it sounded louder near the furnace. He ran to the
opening and looked in; yes, he saw right, it seemed to be coming, not
only out of the furnace, but out of the pot. He uncovered it, and ran
back in a great fright, for the pot was certainly singing! He stood in
the farthest corner of the room, with his hands up and his mouth open,
for a minute or two, when the singing stopped, and the voice became
clear and pronunciative.
"Hollo!" said the voice.
Gluck made no answer.
"Hollo! Gluck, my boy," said the pot again.
Gluck summoned all his energies, walked straight up to the crucible,
drew it out of the furnace, and looked in. The gold was all melted, and
its surface as smooth and polished as a river; but instead of reflecting
little Gluck's head, as he looked in he saw meeting his glance from
beneath the gold, the red nose and sharp eyes of his old friend of the
mug, a thousand times redder and sharper than ever he had seen them in
his life.
"Come, Gluck, my boy," said the voice out of the pot again, "I'm all
right; pour me out."
But Gluck was too much astonished to do anything of the kind.
"Pour me out, I say," said the voice, rather gruffly.
Still Gluck couldn't move.
"_Will_ you pour me out?" said the voice, passionately. "I'm too hot."
By a violent effort, Gluck recovered the use of his limbs, took hold of
the crucible and sloped it, so as to pour out the gold. But, instead of
a liquid stream, there came out, first a pair of pretty little yellow
legs, then some coat tails, then a pair of arms stuck a-kimbo, and
finally the well-known head of his friend the mug; all which articles,
uniting as they rolled out, stood up energetically on the floor, in the
shape of a little golden dwarf, about a foot and a half high.
[Illustration]
"That's right!" said the dwarf, stretching out first his legs, and then
his arms, and then shaking his head up and down, and as far round as it
would go, for five minutes without stopping, apparently with the view of
ascertaining if he were quite correctly put together, while Gluck stood
contemplating him in speechless amazement. He was dressed in a slashed
doublet of spun gold, so fine in its texture, that the prismatic colours
gleamed over it as if on a surface of mother of pearl; and, over this
brilliant doublet, his hair and beard fell full half way to the ground
in waving curls, so exquisitely delicate, that Gluck could hardly tell
where they ended; they seemed to melt into air. The features of the
face, however, were by no means finished with the same delicacy; they
were rather coarse, slightly inclining to coppery in complexion, and
indicative, in expression, of a very pertinacious and intractable
disposition in their small proprietor. When the dwarf had finished his
self-examination, he turned his small sharp eyes full on Gluck, and
stared at him deliberately for a minute or two. "No, it wouldn't, Gluck,
my boy," said the little man.
This was certainly rather an abrupt and unconnected mode of commencing
conversation. It might indeed be supposed to refer to the course of
Gluck's thoughts, which had first produced the dwarfs observations out
of the pot; but whatever it referred to, Gluck had no inclination to
dispute the dictum.
"Wouldn't it, sir?" said Gluck, very mildly and submissively indeed.
"No," said the dwarf, conclusively, "no, it wouldn't." And with that the
dwarf pulled his cap hard over his brows, and took two turns, of three
feet long, up and down the room, lifting his legs up very high, and
setting them down very hard. This pause gave time for Gluck to collect
his thoughts a little, and, seeing no great reason to view his
diminutive visitor with dread, and feeling his curiosity overcome his
amazement, he ventured on a question of peculiar delicacy.
"Pray, sir," said Gluck, rather hesitatingly, "were you my mug?"
On which the little man turned sharp round, walked straight up to Gluck,
and drew himself up to his full height. "I," said the little man, "am
the King of the Golden River." Whereupon he turned about again, and took
two more turns, some six feet long, in order to allow time for the
consternation which this announcement produced in his auditor to
evaporate. After which, he again walked up to Gluck and stood still, as
if expecting some comment on his communication.
Gluck determined to say something at all events. "I hope your Majesty is
very well," said Gluck.
"Listen!" said the little man, deigning no reply to this polite inquiry.
"I am the King of what you mortals call the Golden River. The shape you
saw me in, was owing to the malice of a stronger king, from whose
enchantments you have this instant freed me. What I have seen of you,
and your conduct to your wicked brothers, renders me willing to serve
you; therefore, attend to what I tell you. Whoever shall climb to the
top of that mountain from which you see the Golden River issue, and
shall cast into the stream at its source, three drops of holy water, for
him, and for him only, the river shall turn to gold. But no one failing
in his first, can succeed in a second attempt; and if any one shall cast
unholy water into the river, it will overwhelm him, and he will become a
black stone." So saying, the King of the Golden River turned away and
deliberately walked into the centre of the hottest flame of the furnace.
His figure became red, white, transparent, dazzling,--a blaze of intense
light,--rose, trembled, and disappeared. The King of the Golden River
had evaporated.
"Oh!" cried poor Gluck, running to look up the chimney after him; "Oh,
dear, dear, dear me! My mug! my mug! my mug!"
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