Once upon a time a poor Woodcutter was making his way through a pine
forest. It was winter, and a night of bitter weather. So cold was it
that even the animals and the birds did not know what to make of it.
The little Squirrels who lived inside the tall fir tree kept rubbing
each other's noses to keep warm, and the Rabbits curled themselves up
in their holes and did not even look out of doors.
And as the Woodcutter pressed on toward home, bewailing his lot, there
fell from heaven a very bright and beautiful star. It slipped down the
side of the sky, passing by the other stars, and it seemed to sink
behind a clump of willow trees no more than a stone's throw away.
"Why, there is a crock of gold for whoever finds it," he said, and he
hastened toward it. Stooping down, he placed his hands upon a thing of
gold lying on the white snow. It was a cloak of golden tissue,
curiously wrought with stars, and wrapped in many folds. There was no
gold in it, but only a little child who was asleep.
Very tenderly the Woodcutter took up the child and wrapped the cloak
around it to shield it from the harsh cold, and he made his way down
the hill to the village.
"I have found something in the forest," he said to his wife when he
reached the poor house where they lived.
"What is it?" she cried. "The house is bare and we have need of many
things." So he drew the cloak back and showed her the sleeping child.
"It is a Star-Child," he said, and told her of the strange manner of
finding it.
"But our children lack bread; can we feed another?" she asked.
"God careth for the sparrows even," he answered.
So after a time she turned round and looked at him, and her eyes were
full of tears. And he came in swiftly, and placed the child in her
arms, and she kissed it, and laid it in a little bed where the
youngest of their own children was lying. And on the morrow the
Woodcutter took the curious cloak of gold and placed it in a great
chest, and a chain of amber that was round the child's neck his wife
took and set in the chest also.
So the Star-Child was brought up with the children of the Woodcutter,
and sat at the same board with them, and was their playmate. And every
year he became more beautiful to look at, so that all those who dwelt
in the village were filled with wonder. While they were swarthy and
black-haired, he was white and delicate as ivory, and his curls were
like the rings of the daffodil. His lips, also, were like the petals
of a red flower, and his eyes were like violets, and his body like a
narcissus of a field where the mower comes not.
Yet, the Star-Child's beauty worked him harm, for he grew proud and
cruel and selfish. He despised the other children of the village
because they were of mean parentage, and he made himself master of
them and called them his servants. He had no pity for the poor, or for
those who were blind, or lame; but would cast stones at them.
Now there passed one day through the village a poor beggar-woman. Her
garments were torn and ragged, and her feet were bleeding from the
rough road on which she had travelled, and she was in very evil
plight. And being weary, she sat her down under a chestnut-tree to
rest.
But when the Star-Child saw her, he said to his companions, "See!
There sits a beggar-woman under that fair and green-leaved tree. Come,
let us drive her hence, for she is ugly and ill-favoured."
So he came near and threw stones at her, and mocked her, and, she
looked at him with terror in her eyes, nor did she move her gaze from
him.
"Whose child is this?" she asked. Then the Woodcutter, who was passing
by, told of finding the Star-Child, of the chain of amber around his
neck and the cloak wrought with stars. And, hearing, the beggar-woman
cried with joy.
"He is my little son," she said, "whom I lost through enchantment in
the forest. I have searched for him through all the world."
The Woodcutter called the Star-Child, and said to him,
"Here is thy mother, waiting for thee."
But the Star-Child laughed scornfully.
"I am no son of thine," he said. "I am a Star-Child, and thou art a
beggar, and ugly, and in rags. Get thee hence that I may see thee no
more."
"Oh, my little son," cried the beggar-woman. "Will you not kiss me
before I go? I have suffered much to find thee."
"No," said the Star-Child. "I would rather kiss an adder or a toad
than thee."
So the woman went away into the forest, weeping bitterly, and the
Star-Child was glad and ran back to his playmates. But when they saw
him coming they ran away from him in fear. He went to the well and
looked in. Lo, his face was as the face of a toad and his body was
scaled like an adder. He flung himself down on the grass, and wept.
"I denied my mother," he said. "This has come upon me because of my
sin. I will seek her through all the world, nor rest until I have
found her."
So he ran away into the forest and called out to his mother to come to
him, but there was no answer. All day long he called to her, and when
the sun set he lay down to sleep on a bed of leaves, and the birds and
the animals fled from him, for they remembered his cruelty, and he was
alone save for the toad that watched him, and the slow adder that
crawled past.
And in the morning he rose up and plucked some bitter berries from the
trees and ate them, and took his way through the great wood, weeping
sorely. And of everything that he met he made inquiry if perchance
they had seen his mother.
He said to the Mole, "Thou canst go beneath the earth. Tell me, is my
mother there?"
And the Mole answered, "Thou hast blinded mine eyes. How should I
know?"
He said to the Linnet, "Thou canst fly over the tops of the tall trees
and canst see the whole world. Tell me, canst thou see my mother?"
And the Linnet answered, "Thou hast clipt my wings for thy pleasure.
How should I fly?"
And to the little Squirrel who lived in the fir tree, and was lonely,
he said, "Where is my mother?"
And the Squirrel answered, "Thou hast slain mine. Dost thou seek to
slay thine also?"
And the Star-Child wept and bowed his head and prayed forgiveness of
God's things, and went on through the forest, seeking for the
beggar-woman.
When he passed through the villages the children mocked him and threw
stones at him. He had no place to rest his head, and none had pity on
him. For the space of three years he wandered over the world, and
often seemed to see his mother in the road in front of him, and would
call to her, and run after her until the sharp flints made his feet
bleed. But overtake her he could not, and there was neither love nor
charity for him. It was such a world as he had made for himself in the
days of his pride.
It happened that in his wanderings he was taken and sold as a slave,
and his master, who was a wicked magician, demanded that he go out in
search of a piece of pure white gold.
"See that thou bringest it," said the magician, "or it will go hard
with thee."
So the Star-Child went in search of the piece of white gold but he
could not find it, although he sought for it from morn to noon, and
from noon to sunset. Then he set his face toward home, weeping
bitterly, for he knew that the magician would beat him with an hundred
stripes. But suddenly he heard, from a thicket a cry, and, forgetting
his own sorrow, he ran to the place. He saw a little Hare caught in a
trap.
The Star-Child had pity on it and released it and the Hare said to
him, "What shall I give thee in return for my freedom?"
And the Star-Child said to it, "I am seeking for a piece of white gold
nor can I, anywhere, find it; and if I bring it not to my master he
will beat me."
"Come with me," said the Hare. "I know where it is hidden, and for
what purpose."
So the Star-Child went with the Hare, and in the cleft of a great oak
tree he saw the white gold that he was seeking. He took it and ran
swiftly toward the city.
Now at the gate of the city there was seated one who was a leper. When
he saw the Star-Child he called to him and said, "Give me a piece of
money or I must die of hunger. They have turned me out of the city
and there is no one who has pity on me."
"Alas," cried the Star-Child. "I have but one piece of money, and if I
bring it not to my master he will beat me, for I am his slave."
"Give me the piece of money or I must die," cried the leper and the
Star-Child had pity on him and gave him the piece of gold. Yet his
heart was heavy, for he knew what evil fate awaited him.
But, lo, as he passed through the gates of the city, the guards bowed
to him and the high officers of the city ran forth to meet him and
cried, "Thou art our lord for whom we have been waiting, and the son
of our king."
And the Star-Child wondered.
"I am no king's son, but the child of a beggar-woman and evil to look
at," he said. Then he saw his image in one of the burnished shields of
the guards.
Lo, his face was again beautiful, and all his comeliness had come back
to him again.
But he said to them, "I am not worthy, for I have denied my mother,
nor may I rest until I have found her. Let me go, for I must wander
again through the world." As he spoke he looked toward the road and
there he saw the beggar-woman who was his mother and at her side stood
the leper who had sat beside the gate.
Then a cry of joy broke from the Star-Child's lips and he ran over,
and kneeled down, and kissed the wounds in his mother's feet. And the
beggar-woman put her hand on his head and said to him, "Rise"; and the
leper put his hand upon the Star-Child also, and said to him, "Rise."
And he rose up from their feet and looked at them; and they were a
King and a Queen.