Once upon a time there lived in Brazil an Atlas butterfly that was far
more beautiful than any which had ever been seen before. Her large
wings shimmered with green and pale blue, and when she was flying about
in the sunshine one could not tell whether it was a wonderful flower, a
jewel set with precious stones and pearls, or the flame of a
will-o’-the-wisp fluttering through the air.
In the same forest there lived also brilliant little humming-birds,
magnificent large beetles, and friendly parrots. They formed a very
haughty society, and associated only with one another and the most
aristocratic orchids, around which they daily gathered for a little
gossip with the most delicious refreshments. Among them was also a
golden beetle of the richest species, that seemed to be made entirely
of the precious metal. This golden beetle had been a playmate of the
Atlas butterfly, a young lady of noble birth, from her childhood. The
two had loved each other very dearly, flew about with each other a
great deal, danced together in the sunshine, and charmed every one who
saw them by their brilliancy and play of colors. It was generally
believed in the forest that the golden beetle and the Atlas butterfly
were engaged to each other and would be married some day, and there was
only one opinion about it,—that they would make a glorious pair.
Then one day it happened that a European appeared in the primeval
forest, searching for rare orchids. In his rambles he, too, saw the
Atlas butterfly, and at sight of her he neglected the valuable flowers
and had eyes only for the marvellously beautiful butterfly. He was on
the watch for her at all hours of the day, and eagerly pursued her when
he saw her flying by. The monkeys noticed and chattered about it; it
came also to the ears of the parrots, who shook their heads, saying
that the matter would come to no good end. The humming-birds thought it
advisable to warn the Atlas butterfly that she might be on her guard.
But they delayed too long; one noon the butterfly was missing from the
meeting; the golden beetle at once flew to the palm tree where the
beauty lived, but did not find her at home; all the animals in the
forest helped him search, but all was in vain—the Atlas butterfly had
vanished.
The golden beetle was not to be comforted. He withdrew into a hollow
tree, would neither eat nor drink, and saw no one. The humming-birds
came and, to rouse him from his grief, told him that all sorts of
things were being said in the forest. It was reported that the Atlas
butterfly had eloped with the European orchid hunter, so he need not
grieve for the vain creature. The humming-birds meant kindly. They
thought such speeches would console his sorrow, but they only increased
his grief. “You lie!” cried the golden beetle violently; “my bride is
as good and true as she is beautiful. She would never have left me of
her own free will. A scoundrel has certainly captured and dragged her
away by force, perhaps even killed her. You are slandering her. Go! I
wish to be alone.”
An honest but rough Hercules beetle had heard all this. “You are a weak
fellow,” said the rude giant to the delicate golden beetle. “If you
care for your betrothed bride and believe in her faithfulness, don’t
creep into your hole. Stir yourself. Do something. Search for your
Atlas butterfly. Perhaps you will find her.”
These words roused the golden beetle a little from his depression. At
the next meeting of the fashionable society of the forest, he again
appeared, and received proofs of sympathy for his misfortune from all
sides. He told a clever parrot what the Hercules beetle had said, and
asked what he thought of it.
“The rude fellow is right,” said the parrot; “there is really no sense
in giving yourself up idly to your despair. You are young, you have
your life before you, you are immensely rich; if you make a proper use
of your advantages, you can recover your happiness again.”
“What is the use of my wealth?” complained the golden beetle; “I cannot
buy with my gold my Atlas butterfly if I have lost her.”
“No,” replied the parrot; “but you can search the world, follow the
traces of your betrothed bride, and become united to her again. I’ll
tell you something. One of our handsomest lories is soon going to
Europe. He has obtained a splendid position in one of the zoölogical
gardens of the Old World. Put yourself into communication with him.
Perhaps you can travel with him. When you are once over there, the rest
will take care of itself.”
According to the custom of all talkative people, the parrot had
considerably exaggerated the truth. The lory had no brilliant position,
but had simply been captured and placed in a cage, to be sold to a
European zoölogical garden. This bird-cage was hung in the porch of a
farm-house at the edge of the forest, until there should be an
opportunity to send the valuable bird to the nearest seaport. The
golden beetle easily found him, and creeping through the wires of the
cage, he asked if he would take him to Europe as a travelling
companion?
The lory consented with great pleasure, for now he would have a
countryman with whom he could talk all day long. But he advised him to
travel incognito, to avoid the plundering to which he would certainly
be exposed if he displayed his wealth. The advice was good, though the
parrot had given it solely from vanity. He was afraid that the
magnificence of the golden beetle would cast his own rich colors into
the shade. The golden beetle cared nothing for appearances. He bought
from a spider a gray overcoat, which covered him from his feelers to
the end of his body, and allowed no glimpse of his shining gold to be
seen. In this plain travelling costume he was perfectly unpretending
and attracted no one’s eyes. When the lory was taken to the seaport in
its cage, it was not noticed that he had a travelling companion, and
even the sailors who carried the cage with the gay-plumaged, chattering
bird to the ship and stowed it away under the deck, did not notice or
did not see the beetle sitting modestly in a corner.
On the journey he fared badly. He was terribly seasick, and a seasick
beetle is a sorry spectacle, even if he is a golden beetle. The ship
was swarming with cockroaches, which made their way into the cage,
carried on the most careless housekeeping in it, and, in spite of his
proud reserve, treated the golden beetle with the most unpleasant
familiarity, as if he were one of themselves. But he patiently endured
the vulgarity of the coarse, dirty brown, evil-smelling fellows,
thinking constantly of his beautiful Atlas butterfly, for whose sake he
exposed himself to all this discomfort.
The sea voyage lasted three weeks, then the steamer ran into the
harbor, the parrot was taken out and carried to the zoölogical garden,
where henceforth, with a thin metal chain fastened to one foot,
attached to a shining brass ring, he was to live in the midst of a
noisy throng of lories, cockatoos, and other parrots. When he was taken
out of his cage, the lory said to the golden beetle: “Now we must take
leave of each other, for I shall enter upon the duties of my new
office. You are now in Europe and can set out on the search for your
betrothed bride. I wish you much success in it. And if you need advice
or anything else, come to this garden, and ask for the Brazilian
ambassador in the parrot-house.”
The golden beetle left his countryman and continued his search alone.
At first he liked the foreign country very well. He had left his
Brazilian forest in the winter, and supposed it was now winter in
Europe. So he was surprised to find himself in the midst of summer, for
he did not know that it is summer in Europe when it is winter in
Brazil, and vice versa. He wandered about on the soft turf in the
garden for a while, until he met a running beetle.
“Holloa, comrade,” he called to him; “are there any golden beetles
around here?”
The running beetle was in a hurry as usual. Without stopping in his
career, he called over his shoulder: “Look for the rose-bushes. But
nothing will be given there to-day,” for he thought the gray-coated
stranger was a tramp seeking alms from the rich.
The golden beetle followed the directions, and after some little
search, found the rose-bushes. He was going to make his way through the
branches, still covered with thick leaves, when a stag beetle met him
and with his horns raised threateningly, shouted roughly: “Halt! Where
do you want to go?”
“I want to pay my respects to the golden beetles and make their
acquaintance.”
“Oho!” replied the stag beetle, insolently, “do you suppose that a
shabby fellow like you can be introduced to their lordships, the golden
beetles, so unceremoniously? Move on.”
“But I am a relative of the golden beetles, a near relative,” said the
golden beetle, much embarrassed.
“Of course,” sneered the stag beetle; “rich gentlemen have a great many
relatives. Off with you, and quickly, or I’ll make you find your legs!”
As the golden beetle lingered, the stag beetle seized him roughly with
his horns, to throw him out. The gray overcoat tore under the rude
grasp, and an end of the shining gold cover of his wings appeared. The
stag beetle let him go in astonishment, stared at him with his big
black eyes, shook his feelers doubtfully, and said: “If you will kindly
excuse me—I could not know—I will announce your lordship at once—”
after which he hurried away.
The golden beetle perceived that he must make it easy for his kinsmen
to recognize him, and stripped off his spider-web overcoat entirely.
When several of the golden beetles, summoned by the stag beetle,
appeared to welcome their cousin, they stood still, fairly dazzled.
Never had they seen such magnificence. The European golden beetles were
small, and had only a few modest gold spots, streaks, and rings on
their backs and wings, while this South American cousin was probably
four times as large, and his whole body, without a single break, was
covered with glistening gold. In Europe they were considered immensely
rich, but, in comparison with this American millionaire, they seemed to
themselves poor. He aroused their secret envy, but they did not allow
it to be seen, received him very cordially, begged him to come in, set
rose dew before him, and inquired about, his affairs.
He told them that he had come from the Brazilian forest to Europe to
find his future wife, who had been stolen from him by a wicked
European. Perceiving very clearly that the European relatives, in
comparison with him, were very plain people, he did not want to mortify
them by a description of his palm palaces, his aristocratic
acquaintances, his humming-birds, orchids, parrots, and Hercules
beetles; but his bride he described in all the magnificence of her
breadth of wings and shining blue and green enamel, and asked the
cousins if they had not seen her or heard something about her.
The golden beetles looked at one another. Although their eyes convinced
them of their transatlantic cousin’s wealth, they believed he was
exaggerating the charms of his bride. “If the young lady is so
remarkably beautiful and richly adorned, as you say, Cousin,” replied
the most distinguished of the group, “she would probably have been
noticed here. But we have heard nothing of her. Yet, for greater
certainty, we will ask the butterflies.”
The whole party climbed to the top branches of the rose-bushes, around
which some butterflies were always hovering, and called them. They were
only common white butterflies, yellow ones and fox faces, who felt
honored to have the golden beetles condescend to enter into
conversation with them. They were fairly stupefied with astonishment
and admiration when they saw the gold-clad Brazilian. The latter spoke
to them kindly and sadly, asking if they had not seen a wonderfully
beautiful large butterfly, which glittered with the most brilliant
colors, and looked as if it was set with pearls and precious stones.
“Oh, yes, I know whom you mean,” cried a pert common white butterfly,
either to make itself important or from stupidity.
“What, dear young lady, you have seen the one whom I am seeking? Quick!
Where is she, that I may rush to her?” urged the golden beetle.
“One moment, sir,” replied the white butterfly. “I only want to
announce you.”
The butterfly hastily flew away and went straight to a neighboring
blackberry hedge, where a peacock eye was sunning itself. He imagined
that the golden beetle’s description suited this butterfly, the most
beautiful one he knew in the whole neighborhood.
“Ah, Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle,” cried the butterfly, as he approached
the peacock eye, “an American prince has come, who has heard of your
beauty, and wants to ask your hand.”
“An American prince?” asked the peacock eye, surprised and flattered,
beginning to flutter her richly adorned wings.
“Yes, Mademoiselle, a prince, entirely covered with glittering gold,
and so large, so stately, so handsome a creature I have never seen in
forest or field. May I bring him to you?”
“Yes, bring him to me, my dear friend,” said the peacock eye, settling
herself so that her colors appeared to the best advantage.
The white butterfly quickly returned to the rose-bush, and while still
at a distance called to the golden beetle that was waiting impatiently,
“Come, sir, come, the young lady will be happy to receive you.”
The message surprised the golden beetle, for he would have expected his
bride to fly to him at once, when she was informed of his presence; but
he followed the white butterfly fluttering before him. All the moths
and a number of golden beetles joined them, and the Brazilian
approached the blackberry hedge with a numerous train, which the
peacock eye saw flying toward her from quite a long distance. When the
white butterfly stopped close in front of the beautiful creature, the
golden beetle, without noticing her, glancing impatiently in all
directions, asked: “Where is she? Where?”
“She is sitting directly in front of you, sir; don’t you see her?”
replied the white butterfly in surprise, while the peacock eye made
pretty little movements to attract the attention of the aristocratic,
gold-mailed suitor.
The golden beetle now saw the peacock eye and cried in a disappointed
tone, “What put this into your mind; the young lady certainly is not
she.”
“I thought you wished to be introduced to me,” said the peacock eye,
sharply.
“Pardon me, Mademoiselle,” replied the golden beetle, “it is a mistake.
I hoped to find here my betrothed bride, an Atlas butterfly from my
home, the most glorious, the most exquisite creature that ever
glittered in the sun.”
“Of course I cannot be compared with your Atlas butterfly,” remarked
the peacock eye, snappishly.
“You certainly cannot,” answered the golden beetle with thoughtless
sincerity.
“Brazilian princes are really delightfully civil,” retorted the peacock
eye deeply offended, turned her back upon the golden beetle and his
companions, and flew away.
The butterflies and golden beetles left the American alone. They
disapproved of his lack of politeness. “Our most aristocratic moths are
not good enough for him!” “What does the dandy think he is!” “He might
at least have been more courteous!” they buzzed to one another, and
nobody defended him, no one honored his fidelity to his lost bride.
But the peacock butterfly, whom he had offended, vowed vengeance upon
him. Flying to the guard room of the bombardier beetles, at the foot of
an ancient hollow oak, she told them that a foreign millionaire was
visiting the golden beetles in the rose-bush—a millionaire who carried
vast treasures with him. They must seize him, then they would all be
rich.
The bombardier beetles were a disorderly company. They were always
lying in wait, ready for any evil deed. The whole gang set off at once,
marched to the rose-bush and surrounded it. They saw the golden beetle,
whose magnificent glitter betrayed him. He had settled on a branch and
was sorrowfully thinking what he should do now. Suddenly a crashing
noise began below him, and missiles whizzed around his head. Startled
by the attack, he looked around and discovered the bombardier beetle’s,
who were raging around the foot of the rose-bush, firing at him. He
could not understand the assault, but realized that his life was at
stake and flew away as fast as possible, to get out of range of the
bandits.
But where should he go now? Back to the kind lory, to tell him of his
troubles? He found his countryman engaged in a loud, shrill
conversation with a whole group of aras, cockatoos, and other parrots,
who were all swinging in their big metal rings, talking together with
vehement screams. The lory was gossiping so fast, that he did not see
the golden beetle. But the attendant in the zoölogical garden, who was
just entering the parrot-house with food for the birds, noticed him,
flung the sack he held in his hand on the ground, threw his heavy cap
at the golden beetle, which struck and knocked him down and, with a
shout of joy, seized him. The beetle, stunned by the blow and the fall,
did not move in the hand of the attendant, who hurried with his prize
to the superintendent of the garden, and silently placed it on the
table before him.
“A Brazilian golden beetle!” cried the superintendent in joyful
astonishment. “It probably came with our new lory. We often have these
pleasant surprises with our consignments from across the sea. We will
put it with our Atlas butterfly.”
When the golden beetle heard the words “Atlas butterfly,” he instantly
recovered his senses. He forgot his present situation, he did not think
that he was a prisoner, perhaps in danger of his life; he only repeated
with secret joy that he should see his Atlas butterfly again. He did
not move a limb, a wing, or a feeler when the superintendent laid him
in the hollow of his hand, and went with him to the Museum of Natural
History, which was connected with the zoölogical garden. Entering the
great hall, he went to a glass case and opened it. The golden beetle
glanced in—Oh, rapture! Oh, bliss! There sat his Atlas butterfly with
outspread wings, though she was strangely motionless. At this sight the
golden beetle made a sudden effort, and, before the astonished
superintendent could shut his hand over him, flew away like a flash of
lightning. Instantly a wild chase began, the superintendent and the
attendant in the zoölogical garden ran here and there, but dared not
throw anything at the golden beetle, for fear that they might break the
cases, or damage the animals outside. He easily escaped, in his swift
flight, the butterfly nets they waved frantically to and fro, so they
could only look on, while the golden beetle, buzzing loudly, flew in
wide circles around the ceiling of the lofty hall, far beyond the reach
of their arms.
Meantime, the glass case that held the Atlas butterfly was left open.
In order not to injure the beautiful creature, they had not fastened
her with a pin, but glued her down lightly with a thin varnish. They
thought that she was dead, but it was not so. And as, just before, the
mere mention of the Atlas butterfly’s name had roused the golden beetle
from his stupor, now the well-known loud buzzing of the golden beetle
waked the butterfly from her unconsciousness. She slowly recovered her
senses, saw at first, as if in a confused dream, then more and more
clearly, what was passing around her, heard the noise of the chase,
suddenly recognized high up at the ceiling her beloved golden beetle,
and with fresh courage began to make violent efforts to tear her legs
from the varnish in which they were stuck. Unnoticed by the
superintendent and his servant, whose eyes were fixed upon the escaped
beetle, the butterfly pulled and strained and jerked until she
succeeded in freeing herself. True, she left a leg in the varnish; but
she had no thought now for pain and wounds. Up she flew, straight to
the golden beetle, and before the wondering eyes of the two men, the
faithful pair from Brazil were once more united.
With the speed of an arrow, both flew out of the open door into the
garden and alighted on the top of a tall tree. The golden beetle could
not contain his joy, as he stroked and petted the Atlas butterfly. But
she said: “Alas, how I look! My wings have lost their brightness, and I
was obliged to leave a leg with those wicked men. Now I am so ugly and
you are so handsome.”
“Don’t grieve about that,” replied the golden beetle. “Your wound will
heal and your wings will shine again, and you will be now as always
more beautiful than any other creature in the world.” At the same
moment, he began with zeal and strength to brush the gold from his own
wings, and to scatter it over his bride’s. Soon she was completely
covered with glistening gold, and again as magnificent to behold as a
jewel, but the golden beetle was as plain and colorless as on the
journey, when he hid his splendor under the spider-web overcoat.
A starling, whose nest was in the tree, had seen and heard everything.
Perching beside the couple on the bough, he soothed them in regard to
his intentions, and begged them to tell him their story. They did so,
and the starling was so touched by it, that he flew around the garden,
relating to all the birds and free animals the incidents of the cruel
separation, and the wonderful reunion of the two faithful Brazilians.
Birds, squirrels, butterflies, and beetles came flying from all
directions, brought the foreigners the best honey that could be had
from the modest autumn flowers of Europe, and advised them to have
their wedding.
But they did not want to marry until they had returned home. It was too
cold for them here, and they were homesick for the forest and the
humming-birds, and orchids, and parrots, and monkeys. Their new friends
put their heads together and discussed what they could do for the
beautiful creatures. The starling undertook to carry them to the
nearest seaport, and put them on a ship sailing for South America.
True, the young couple would be obliged to hide in the dark hold, and
be annoyed by the intrusive, vulgar cockroaches; but after what they
had experienced, this was a small annoyance, easily endured, which they
would bear with firmness till they reached the end of their journey.
The golden beetle, meanwhile, had covered himself with new gold, and
the Atlas butterfly had regained her former magnificent colors, only
even more beautiful from the gold scattered over them, so when they
again appeared in the forest they were more glorious than ever. Every
one welcomed them with the greatest joy; they remained from that time
united, without ever separating, and in the hours of gossip with the
lories over the honey, the company never grew tired of hearing repeated
again and again the story of their sorrowful journey to Europe and
happy return.