It was New Year's day, and I went up on the tower. Ole spoke of
the toasts that were drunk on the transition from the Old Year into
the New--from one grave into the other, as he said. And he told me a
story about the glasses, and this story had a very deep meaning. It
was this:
"When on the New Year's night the clock strikes twelve, the people
at the table rise up with full glasses in their hands, and drain these
glasses, and drink success to the New Year. They begin the year with
the glass in their hands; that is a good beginning for drunkards. They
begin the New Year by going to bed, and that's a good beginning for
drones. Sleep is sure to play a great part in the New Year, and the
glass likewise. Do you know what dwells in the glass?" asked Ole. "I
will tell you. There dwell in the glass, first, health, and then
pleasure, then the most complete sensual delight; and misfortune and
the bitterest woe dwell in the glass also. Now, suppose we count the
glasses--of course I count the different degrees in the glasses for
different people.
"You see, the first glass, that's the glass of health, and in that
the herb of health is found growing. Put it up on the beam in the
ceiling, and at the end of the year you may be sitting in the arbor of
health.
"If you take the second glass--from this a little bird soars
upward, twittering in guileless cheerfulness, so that a man may listen
to his song, and perhaps join in 'Fair is life! no downcast looks!
Take courage, and march onward!'
"Out of the third glass rises a little winged urchin, who cannot
certainly be called an angel child, for there is goblin blood in his
veins, and he has the spirit of a goblin--not wishing to hurt or
harm you, indeed, but very ready to play off tricks upon you. He'll
sit at your ear and whisper merry thoughts to you; he'll creep into
your heart and warm you, so that you grow very merry, and become a
wit, so far as the wits of the others can judge.
"In the fourth glass is neither herb, bird, nor urchin. In that
glass is the pause drawn by reason, and one may never go beyond that
sign.
"Take the fifth glass, and you will weep at yourself, you will
feel such a deep emotion; or it will affect you in a different way.
Out of the glass there will spring with a bang Prince Carnival, nine
times and extravagantly merry. He'll draw you away with him; you'll
forget your dignity, if you have any, and you'll forget more than
you should or ought to forget. All is dance, song and sound: the masks
will carry you away with them, and the daughters of vanity, clad in
silk and satin, will come with loose hair and alluring charms; but
tear yourself away if you can!
"The sixth glass! Yes, in that glass sits a demon, in the form
of a little, well dressed, attractive and very fascinating man, who
thoroughly understands you, agrees with you in everything, and becomes
quite a second self to you. He has a lantern with him, to give you
light as he accompanies you home. There is an old legend about a saint
who was allowed to choose one of the seven deadly sins, and who
accordingly chose drunkenness, which appeared to him the least, but
which led him to commit all the other six. The man's blood is
mingled with that of the demon. It is the sixth glass, and with that
the germ of all evil shoots up within us; and each one grows up with a
strength like that of the grains of mustard-seed, and shoots up into a
tree, and spreads over the whole world: and most people have no choice
but to go into the oven, to be re-cast in a new form.
"That's the history of the glasses," said the tower-keeper Ole,
"and it can be told with lacquer or only with grease; but I give it
you with both!"