The Project Gutenberg EBook of Types of Children's Literature
Edited by Walter Barnes
Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.
This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project
Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the
header without written permission.
Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the
eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is
important information about your specific rights and restrictions in
how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a
donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
Title: Types of Children's Literature
Author: Edited by Walter Barnes
Release Date: September, 2004 [EBook #6588]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on December 29, 2002]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TYPES OF CHILDREN'S LITERATURE ***
Produced by Curtis Weyant, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
TYPES OF CHILDREN'S LITERATURE
A COLLECTION OF
THE WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE
FOR CHILDREN
FOR USE IN COLLEGES, NORMAL SCHOOLS
AND LIBRARY SCHOOLS
COLLECTED AND EDITED
BY
WALTER BARNES, A.M.
Application of the world's knowledge to the world's needs is the
guiding aim of this publishing house, and it is in conformity to this
aim that _Types of Children's Literature_ is published. There is
need of helpful direction for parents and teachers who wish to place
within reach of every child the beauty, wisdom, and knowledge stored
up in the world's best literature for children. The domain is so
vast, so rich, and so varied that a single volume which presents
specimens of all the different types for study and analysis by older
readers and for reading by the children themselves, may hope to make
easy and natural for children the entrance to the pleasant land of
books
PREFACE
This collection of specimens of children's literature has evolved
itself naturally and, as it were, inevitably out of the editor's
experience in teaching classes in children's literature in normal
school and college, and it is published in the belief that other
teachers of this subject find the same need of such a book that the
editor has experienced. For it is obvious that if we are to conduct
classes in children's literature either for general culture or for
specific training of teachers, we must have specimens of children's
literature readily accessible to the students. We must bring students
to a knowledge and appreciation of any author, period, or type by
having them study representative selections, and this principle
applies as logically to courses in children's literature as to
courses in other kinds of literature.
_Types of Children's Literature_ is intended to provide students
of the subject with a single-volume anthology of prose and poetry
illustrative of the different types, styles, interests, periods,
authors, etc., of writings for children. There are, of course, many
collections of specimens of children's literature; but they are all
made as reading books for children and, consequently, are
unsatisfactory, in some important respect or other, as source books.
Moreover, these collections are published in several volumes and
contain much that is mediocre and trivial. As far as the editor has
been able to discover, there is but a single one-volume collection,
and that collection, having been compiled solely for juvenile
readers, is impracticable as a text for college and normal school
classes. In teaching classes in children's literature the present
editor has had to use, as the only possible text, such sets of
literary readers as the _Heart of Oak_ series or such miniature
libraries as the ten-volume _The Children's Hour_ or the eight-
volume _Children's Classics_. This procedure has been both
expensive and inconvenient for teacher and students, besides not
supplying some of the material desirable in any symmetrical outline
of study.
In compiling the book the editor kept in mind several guiding aims.
Foremost was the wish to include in the collection at least one
selection--and that a masterpiece--of each type and kind of
children's literature in the English language. The different species
of prose and poetry; the various kinds of stories, such as fables,
myths, and fairy stories; the fundamental forms of discourse, such as
narration, description, the sketch, the essay, the oration, letters--
nearly all the molds, so to speak, into which the molten literary
stream has flowed all these types are represented by the choicest
specimens in the range of children's literature.
A careful inspection of the selections in this volume will reveal the
rich variety of the material. Specimens are to be found of folk
literature and modern literature, of the romantic, of the realistic,
of the crude and naive, of the artistic and sophisticated, of the
humorous and the pathetic. The editor has tried to find specimens
presenting as many themes, as many interests, as many emotions as
possible, characteristic specimens of the most important authors for
children, of all the civilizations that have produced literatures
which have become a part of the English-speaking child's heritage.
The collection contains literature for the little child and
literature for the boy or girl in the early 'teens, and it ranges
from primitive times down to this present decade. Moreover, since a
considerable part of the body of children's literature is made up of
original selections made over for children, a few masterpieces of
translations, re-tellings, abridgments, and reproductions have been
included.
The editor hopes that he has allotted a proportionate and equitable
amount of space and emphasis to each type, department, and section of
the collection. He had it in mind, at least, to give as many pages
over to poetry, for example, in proportion to prose, as many pages to
fairy stories, for example, in proportion to myths, as would indicate
roughly the average child's interests. If this proportion is not due
and just, as the editor sometimes fears, it is to be hoped that
critics will realize the web of difficulties in which such a task as
this is entangled.
A word as to the classification and nomenclature. The editor realizes
that this is neither original nor accurate. It is certainly not
scientific, as the types overlap here and there, and the names are
based partly on form and partly on content. But classification and
class names were indispensable in a book of this nature, and it
seemed a better policy to employ the classification and the names
already firmly established in common use than to attempt to subject
to a new system of scientific terms that which is by nature not
amenable to scientific laws and scientific precision. The
classification appears only in the Contents; it does not stand forth
in the book itself.
It should be said, further, that the order in which the different
types are placed in the book is more or less arbitrary, having been
determined largely by the succession in which children take them up
from year to year, beginning with the simpler forms and more childish
themes, and somewhat by the principle of similarity and contrast in
the types themselves. Needless to say, teachers will change the order
in which the species and specimens are studied in accordance with any
well-defined plan of their own.
A distinct service has been rendered, the editor hopes, by presenting
the definitive and authoritative versions of all the selections
given. This has meant a painstaking reading of every line in every
selection and the collation with editions that are trustworthy. Every
student of children's literature knows that it has been almost
impossible to find exact readings, and that most selections have been
distorted and garbled to suit the purposes of editors. No changes
from the originals have here been made except to abridge in a few
instances where it seemed imperative in a book intended for reading
and discussion in classes of both sexes. The editions used and the
changes made are given in the Notes.
The problems involved in selecting the best versions of certain
stories and the best translations from other languages have been
difficult. In general, the editor endeavored to choose the form which
seemed to have the highest literary value. In cases where two
translations seemed to possess equal merit, both are represented.
Every specimen of literature in this collection is a complete unit or
is at least a section easily detached--like an Uncle Remus or an
Arabian Nights story--from its original setting. This principle
precluded the inclusion of extracts from such children's classics as
_Gulliver's Travels_, _Robinson Crusoe_, and _Treasure
Island_. No survey of children's literature is complete without an
examination of such books as these; but they can easily be supplied
in inexpensive editions and used as supplementary to this collection.
It is evident that not every masterpiece of writing for children
could be included in this volume; but it is believed that no
selection has been included that is not a masterpiece. This belief is
based primarily on the fact that most of the specimens have been
chosen and approved by generation after generation of children,
culled out from the light and worthless as by an unerring hand,
through the most pragmatic of tests.
The only distinct type of children's literature not represented in
this collection is the drama, which is omitted because the editor was
not able to find a dramatic unit that would satisfy the ideal he had
in mind: that it be dramatic, that it be literary, that it be brief,
yet complete within itself, and that it be an original selection, not
a dramatization of some classic. For a similar reason no story of
American Indian life was put into the collection, though this
exclusion does not mean the omission of a type of literature. A large
number of Indian stories, both of Indian folklore and myth, and of
adventures with Indians, were carefully read; but not one of them, in
the editor's opinion, came up to the standard of a masterpiece and
was, at the same time, brief enough to be practicable for this book.
Some undoubted masterpieces from literatures lying outside the
recognized circle of the American child's "culture"--such, for
example, as the Japanese folk stories--also have been omitted. Other
splendid specimens of juvenile literature, as stories from Kipling's
_Jungle Books_ and essays from Burroughs, have been omitted
because of copyright restrictions.
No one realizes more clearly than does the editor of this collection
that no single book can include all the material that a class
studying children's literature should have before it. There are
dozens of children's books, for example, that a class should know or
know about. An appendix has therefore been placed at the end of this
collection, which lists the reading indispensable to a student of
children's literature. These books should be in the school library,
easily accessible to the students, and they should be considered as
an integral part of the body of children's literature.
As a compendium of good literature for children it is hoped that this
book may interest parents and teachers, quite independently of the
fact that it was prepared for classes of young men and women studying
children's literature, and that it may be put into the hands of
children.
There remains but the pleasant duty of acknowledging the advice and
encouragement received from many persons interested in this subject.
To the publishing houses who have granted permission to use
copyrighted material and to the Librarian of Congress thanks are due
for courtesies extended. To Mr. David Dale Johnson of West Virginia
University for collating; to Mr. Hunter Whiting for a great deal of
copying and collating; and especially to Professor Franklin T. Baker
of Teachers College, Columbia University, Professor James F. Hosic of
the Chicago Normal College, and Mr. John Cotton Dana of the Newark,
New Jersey, Free Public Library, for advice and criticism on the
manuscript,--to all of these the editor hereby expresses his
gratitude.
W. B.
FAIRMONT, WEST VIRGINIA
CONTENTS
BOOK ONE--POETRY
NURSERY JINGLES
CHARACTER SKETCHES
Little Miss Muffet
Diddle, diddle, dumpling
Let's go to bed
Jack Sprat
There was a little girl
SCENES AND INCIDENTS
Jack and Jill
Hickory, dickory, dock
There was an old woman
Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater
Little Jack Horner
TALES
Old Mother Hubbard
Little Bo-peep
The Babes in the Woods
NONSENSE AND HUMOROUS RHYMES
Old Dan Tucker
Old Man John
We're all in the dumps
I had a little horse
SATIRES AND TAUNTS
Georgy-porgy
April fool
Johnny's mad
Cry, baby, cry
Tell-tale-tit
TONGUE TWISTERS
Peter Piper
Swan swam over the sea
COUNTING-OUT JINGLES
Ickity, pickity
One-ery, two-ery
Inty, minty
Intery, mintery
GESTURE AND ACTION SONGS
Trit-trot
Hippity-hop
This little mouse
Here we go up, up, up
RIDDLES
A Cherry
A Fodder Field, a Hog, and a Dog
Hens
A Churn
An Egg
A Star
CATCHES
There, was a man who had no eyes
I am a gold lock
As I was going to St. Ives
CHARMS AND SUPERSTITIONS
Star of light
Marble, marble, roll away
Honest and true
Come, butter, come
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John
Mole on the neck
WEATHER WISDOM
Rain before seven
Evening red
When the fog goes up the hill
When the bees all homeward fly
AIDS TO MEMORY
One, two, three, four
Naught, one
In fourteen hundred and ninety-two
Thirty days hath September
PROVERBS
Birds of a feather
He that would thrive
Little strokes
See a pin and pick it up
For every evil under the sun
PEDDLER'S CRIES
Pease porridge hot
Hot-cross buns
SOME CHILDREN'S POETS
WILLIAM BLAKE
Piping down the valleys wild
The Lamb
Laughing Song
CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
The Wind
The City Mouse and the Garden Mouse
Lullaby
A Flint
The Sisters
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
The Wind
Windy Nights
The Whole Duty of Children
My Bed Is a Boat
The Land of Counterpane
The Land of Storybooks
LUCY LARCOM
If I Were a Sunbeam
The Rivulet
The Brown Thrush
ANN AND JANE TAYLOR
Meddlesome Matty
The Violet
The Star
The Way to be Happy
ISAAC WATTS
Against Idleness and Mischief
A Morning Song
A Cradle Hymn
LEWIS CARROLL
Jabberwocky
You Are Old, Father William
The Walrus and the Carpenter
EDWARD LEAR
There was an Old Man of the West
There was an Old Man with a beard
There was an Old Person of Dean
There was a Young Lady whose chin
There is a Young Lady whose nose
The Owl and the Pussy-Cat
The Jumblies
BALLADS
POPULAR
Bonny Barbara Allan
Sir Patrick Spence
Robin Hood and Allin a Dale
Kinmont Willie
MODERN
The Wreck of the Hesperus, _Longfellow_
La Belle Dame sans Merci, _Keats_
Lord Ullin's Daughter, _Campbell_
Young Lochinvar, _Scott_
How They Brought the Good News, _Browning_
The Revenge, _Tennyson_
LYRICS
OUR COUNTRY
America, _Smith_
My Native Land, _Scott_
Columbus, _Miller_
Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, _Hemans_
Concord Hymn, _Emerson_
Old Ironsides, _Holmes_
O Captain! My Captain!, _Whitman_
LOVE LYRICS
To Lucasta, _Lovelace_
She Walks in Beauty, _Byron_
A Red, Red Rose, _Burns_
POEMS OF NATURE
The Greenwood Tree, _Shakespeare_
A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea, _Cunningham_
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud, _Wordsworth_
The Rhodora, _Emerson_
To the Fringed Genlian, _Bryant_
The Eagle, _Tennyson_
On the Grasshopper and Cricket, _Keats_
LESSONS FROM NATURE
To a Waterfowl, _Bryant_
The Chambered Nautilus, _Holmes_
The Bugle Song, _Tennyson_
SONGS OF LIFE
The Noble Nature, _Jonson_
The Character of a Happy Life, _Wotton_
Say Not the Struggle Nought Availeth, _Clough_
For A' That and A' That, _Burns_
Invictus, _Henley_
Opportunity, _Sill_
A Psalm of Life, _Longfellow_
BOOK TWO
PROSE
STORIES
FABLES
The Dog and the Shadow, _AEsop_
The Fox and the Grapes, _AEsop_
The Hare and the Tortoise, _AEsop_
The Shepherd's Boy, _AEsop_
The Husbandman and the Stork, _AEsop_
The Wind and the Sun, _AEsop_
The Tortoise and the Geese, _Bidpai_
The Partridge and the Crow, _Bidpai_
The Fox and the Grapes, _La Fontaine_
The Wolf and the Stork, _La Fontaine_
FAIRY STORIES AND NURSERY TALES
TRADITIONAL
THE ACCUMULATIVE TALE
The Old Woman and Her Pig, _Jacobs_
THE ANIMAL STORY
The Three Little Pigs, _Jacobs_
THE NOODLE STORY
Hans in Luck, _Grimm_
THE HUMBLE HERO STORY
The Valiant Little Tailor, _Grimm_
Cinderella, _Perrault_
Whittington and His Cat, _Old Chapbook_
THE SYMBOLISTIC STORY
The Ugly Duckling, _Andersen_
The Flax, _Andersen_
THE STORY OF HORROR
Blue Beard, _Perrault_
THE GIANT STORY
Jack and the Beanstalk, _Jacobs_
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES
The Elves, _Grimm_
Te Frog-Prince, _Grimm_
The Quern at the Bottom of the Sea, _Asbjornsen_
THE NEGRO FOLK TALE
Brother Rabbit and Brother Bull-Frog, _Harris_
MODERN
Brownie and the Cook, _Craik_
The King of the Golden River, _Ruskin_
THE ORIENTAL WONDER STORY
The Story of Aladdin, Arabian Nights
MYTHS AND LEGENDS
CLASSIC
The Gorgon's Head, _Hawthorne_
Theseus, _Kingsley_
GERMANIC
Thor Goes a-Fishing, _Mabie_
Baldur, _Keary-Morss_
THE HERO STORY
Sir William Wallace, _Scott_
THE REPRODUCTION
The Tempest, _Shakespeare-Lamb_
DIDACTIC STORIES
The Purple Jar, _Edgeworth_
Difference and Agreement, _Aiken and Barbauld_
Eyes and No Eyes, _Aiken and Barbauld_
ANIMAL SKETCHES AND STORIES
Rab and His Friends, _Brown_
The Busy Blue Jay, _Miller_
A Cry in the Night, _Long_
SELECTIONS FROM THE BIBLE
The Story of Joseph
The Story of Samson
David's Psalms: First, Nineteenth, Twenty-third
Christ's Sermon on the Mount
Paul's Discourse on Charity
OTHER PROSE FORMS
LETTERS
Lewis Carroll to Miss Standen
Thomas Hood to Miss Elliot
Charles Dickens to Master Hughes
ESSAYS
Traits of Indian Character, _Irving_
Of Studies, _Bacon_
The American Boy, _Roosevelt_
ORATIONS
Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death, _Henry_
Supposed Speech of John Adams, _Webster_
Gettysburg Address, _Lincoln_
APPENDIX
NOTES
INDEX TO AUTHORS, TITLES, AND THE FIRST LINES OF POEMS
TYPES OF CHILDREN'S LITERATURE
NURSERY JINGLES
Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating of curds and whey;
Along came a spider
And sat down beside her,
Which frightened Miss Muffet away.
* * * * *
Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John
Went to bed with his stockings on;
One shoe off, the other shoe on,
Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John.
* * * * *
"Let's go to bed,"
Says Sleepy-head;
"Let's stay awhile," says Slow;
"Put on the pot,"
Says Greedy-sot,
"We'll sup before we go."
* * * * *
Jack Sprat could eat no fat,
His wife could eat no lean:
And so betwixt them both, you see,
They licked the platter clean.
* * * * *
There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead;
When she was good,
She was very, very good;
But when she was bad--she was horrid.
[Footnote: Attributed to Longfellow.]
* * * * *
Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water;
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.
* * * * *
Hickory, dickory, dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
The clock struck one,
And down he run,
Hickory, dickory, dock
* * * * *
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe;
She had so many children she didn't know what to do.
She gave them some broth without any bread,
And whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.
* * * * *
Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,
Had a wife and couldn't keep her.
He put her in a pumpkin shell,
And there he kept her very well.
* * * * *
Little Jack Horner
Sat in a corner,
Eating a Christmas pie:
He put in his thumb
And pulled out a plum
And said, "What a good boy am I!"
* * * * *
Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To get her poor dog a bone;
But when she got there,
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.
She went to the baker's
To buy him some bread;
And when she came back,
The poor dog was dead.
She went to the joiner's
To buy him a coffin;
And when she came back,
The doggy was laughin'.
She went to the butcher's
To buy him some tripe;
And when she came back,
He was smoking his pipe.
She went to the hatter's
To buy him a hat;
And when she came back,
He was feeding the cat.
She went to the barber's
To buy him a wig;
And when she came back,
He was dancing a jig.
She went to the tailor's
To buy him a coat;
And when she came back,
He was riding a goat.
She went to the cobbler's
To buy him some shoes;
And when she came back,
He was reading the news.
* * * * *
Little Bo-peep
She lost her sheep,
And couldn't tell where to find them.
"Let them alone
And they'll come home,
Wagging their tails behind them."
Little Bo-peep
Fell fast asleep
And dreamt she heard them bleating,
But when she awoke,
She found it a joke,
For still they all were fleeting.
Then up she took
Her little crook,
Determined for to find them.
She found them indeed,
But it made her heart bleed,--
For they'd left their tails behind them.
* * * * *
My dear, do you know
A long time ago
Two poor little children,
Whose names I don't know,
Were taken away on a bright summer day
And left in the woods, as I've heard people say.
And when it was night,
How sad was their plight!
The sun it went down
And the stars hid their light.
They sobbed and they sighed and sadly they cried,
Till the poor little things at last lay down and died.
And when they were dead,
The robins so red
Brought beech and oak leaves
And over them spread.
And all the day long, the branches among,
They sang to them softly, and this was their song:
"Poor babes in the woods, poor babes in the woods,
Oh, who will come find the poor babes in the woods?"
* * * * *
Old Dan Tucker was a fine old man;
He washed his face in a frying pan,
He combed his hair with a wagon wheel,
And died with the toothache in his heel.
* * * * *
Old Man John sitting down by the spring;
He's a Jew, he's a ring,
He's a many pretty thing.
He's a hammer with nine nails,
He's a cat with nine tails.
Whip jack, spur Tom,
Blow the bellows for Old Man John.
* * * * *
We're all in the dumps,
For diamonds are trumps;
The kittens are gone to St. Paul's;
The babies are bit,
The moon's in a fit,
And the houses are built without walls.
* * * * *
I had a little horse, his name was Dapple Gray;
His legs were made of cornstalks, his body made of hay.
I saddled him and bridled him and rode him off to town;
Up came a puff of wind, and blew him up and down.
The saddle flew off, and I let go,--
Now didn't my horse make a pretty little show?
* * * * *
Georgy-porgy, pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
When the boys came out to play,
Georgy-porgy ran away.
* * * * *
April fool, go to school,
Sit on a two-legged stool.
Too wise you are, too wise you be;
You are not too wise for me.
* * * * *
Johnny's mad, and I am glad,
And I know what will please him:
A bottle of wine to make him shine,
And Mary Jones to squeeze him.
* * * * *
Cry, baby, cry,
Stick your finger in your eye
And tell your mother 'twasn't I.
* * * * *
Tell-tale-tit,
Your tongue shall be slit,
And all the dogs about the town
Shall have a little bit.
Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,
A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked.
If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,
Where is the peck of peppers Peter Piper picked?
* * * * *
Swan swam over the sea,
Swim, swan, swim;
Swan swam back again,
Well swum, swan.
* * * * *
Ickity, pickity, ally gadaw,
Dicks, do, ally gamaw,
Okus, pokus, pelly gaw,
Franz.
* * * * *
One-ery, two-ery, three-ery, thum,
Backsley, Billy, Nicholas, Bum,
One-a-tirry, Dick and Sirry,
Pot ban, riddle man,
Link, Pink, Sink.
* * * * *
Inly, minly, dibbity fig,
Delia, Dolia, dominig,
Otcha, potcha, dominotcha,
Ella Bella boo,
Out goes you.
* * * * *
Intery, mintery, cutery corn,
Apple seed and apple thorn,
Wire, brier, limber lock,
Three geese in a flock;
Along came Tod,
With his long rod,
And scared them all to Migly-wod.
One flew east, one flew west,
One flew over the cuckoo's nest.--
Make your way home, Jack.
* * * * *
Trit-trot, trit-trot,
To buy a penny cake;
Home again, home again,
I met a black-snake.
Pick up a stone
And breaky backy-bone
Trit-trot, trit-trot
All the way home.
* * * * *
Hippity--hop to the barber shop,
To buy a stick of candy;
One for you, and one for me,
And one for Brother Andy.
* * * * *
This little mouse got caught in a trap,
And this little mouse she heard it snap,
This little mouse did loudly squeak out,
And this little mouse did run all about,
This little mouse said, "Do not bewail
And let us take hold and pull him out by the tail."
[Footnote: Recited on the baby's fingers or toes.]
* * * * *
Here we go up, up, up,
Here we go down, down, down-y;
Here we go up, and here we go down,
And here we go round, round, round-y.
* * * * *
As I went through the garden gap,
Whom should I meet but Dick Red-cap,--
A stick in his hand,
A stone in his throat,--
If you'll tell me this riddle,
I'll give you a gold fiddle.
(A cherry)
* * * * *
One day I went to my whirly-whicker-whacker, (Fodder field)
I met bow-backer, (A hog)
I called Tom-tacker (A dog)
To drive bow-backer
Out of my whirly-whicker-whacker.
* * * * *
One day I went to Body-tot,
I met three ladies in a trot,
With green heads and yellow toes,--
If you don't tell me this riddle I'll burn your nose.
(Hens)
* * * * *
Big at the bottom and little at the top,
A thing in the middle goes flippety-flop.
(A churn)
* * * * *
Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again.
(An egg)
* * * * *
I have a little sister, she's called Peep-peep;
She wades the waters deep, deep, deep;
She climbs the mountains high, high, high,--
Poor little thing, she has but one eye.
(A star)
* * * * *
There was a man who had no eyes,
He went abroad to view the skies;
He saw a tree with apples on it,
He took no apples off, yet left no apples on it.
(The man had _one_ eye, and the tree had _two_ apples on it.)
* * * * *
(The following catch depends upon the second child repeating the exact
words of the first, except that he changes "lock" to "key.")
1. I am a gold lock.
2. I am a gold key.
1. I am a silver lock,
2. I am a silver key.
1. I am a brass lock,
2. I am a brass key.
1. I am a monk lock.
2. I am a monk-key.
* * * * *
As I was _going_ to St. Ives,
I _met_ a man with seven wives;
Each wife had seven sacks,
Each sack had seven cats,
Each sack had seven kits,--
Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,
How many were _going_ to St. Ives?
* * * * *
Star of light, so bright, so bright,
'Tis the first star I've seen tonight;
I wish I may, I wish I might
Have the wish I wish tonight.
* * * * *
Marble, marble, roll away,
Go find your brother;
Marble, marble, come back home,
Bring me another.
[Footnote: If you have lost a marble, take another marble and roll it
toward the place you lost the first one, repeating this charm. You
will find the lost one near the second marble.]
* * * * *
Honest and true, black and blue,
You may take your knife and cut me in two.
(An oath)
* * * * *
Come, butter, come,
Come, butter, come;
Johnny stands at the gate,
Waiting for a butter cake,--
Come, butter, come.
* * * * *
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John
Guard the bed that I lie on;
One to watch and one to pray,
And two to bear my soul away.
* * * * *
Mole on the neck,
Money by the peck.
* * * * *
Rain before seven,
Quit before eleven.
* * * * *
Evening red and morning gray
Sets the traveler on his way;
Evening gray and morning red,
Brings down rain upon his head.
* * * * *
When the fog goes up the hill,
Then the rain comes down by the mill.
* * * * *
When the bees all homeward fly,
Flowers will not long be dry.
* * * * *
1, 2, 3, 4,
Mary at the cottage door;
5, 6, 7, 8,
Eating cherries off a plate.
* * * * *
Naught, one,
Work is done;
Two, three,
Jubilee;
Four, five,
Ducks are alive;
Six, seven,
Stars shine up in heaven;
Eight, nine,
Queen, Queen Caroline,
Wash your face in turpentine,
Monkey-shine, monkey-shine,
Queen, Queen Caroline.
* * * * *
In fourteen hundred and ninety-two
Columbus sailed the ocean blue.
* * * * *
Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November;
All the rest have thirty-one,
Excepting February alone,
Which has twenty-eight in line,
Till leap-year gives it twenty-nine.
* * * * *
Birds of a feather
Flock together.
* * * * *
He that would thrive
Must rise at five;
He that has thriven
May rise at seven.
* * * * *
Little strokes
Fell great oaks.
* * * * *
See a pin and pick it up,
All the day you'll have good luck.
See a pin and let it lay,
You'll have bad luck all the day.
* * * * *
For every evil under the sun,
There is a remedy, or there is none;
If there be one, try and find it,
If there be none, never mind it.
* * * * *
Pease porridge hot,
Pease porridge cold,
Pease porridge in the pot,
Nine days old.
Some like it hot,
Some like it cold,
Some like it in the pot,
Nine days old.
* * * * *
Hot-cross buns,
Hot-cross buns,
One a penny, two a penny,
Hot-cross buns.
Hot-cross buns,
Hot-cross buns,
If you have no daughters,
Give them to your sons.
SOME CHILDREN'S POETS
William Blake
PIPING DOWN THE VALLEYS WILD
Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:--
"Pipe a song about a lamb:"
So I piped with merry cheer.
"Piper, pipe that song again:"
So I piped: he wept to hear.
"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe,
Sing thy songs of happy cheer!"
So I sang the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.
"Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book, that all may read--"
So he vanished from my sight;
And I plucked a hollow reed,
And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.
THE LAMB
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life and bade thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, bright,
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little lamb, I'll tell thee;
Little lamb, I'll tell thee.
He is called by thy name,
For He calls himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little lamb, God bless thee!
Little lamb, God bless thee!
LAUGHING SONG
When the green wood laughs with the voice of joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;
When the meadows laugh with lively green,
And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene;
When Mary, and Susan, and Emily
With their sweet round mouths sing, "Ha ha he!"
When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
When our table with cherries and nuts is spread;
Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of "Ha ha he!"
CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
THE WIND
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I
But when the leaves hang trembling
The wind is passing by.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I
But when the trees bow down their heads
The wind is passing by.
THE CITY MOUSE AND THE GARDEN MOUSE
The city mouse lives in a house;--
The garden mouse lives in a bower,
He's friendly with the frogs and toads,
And sees the pretty plants in flower.
The city mouse eats bread and cheese;--
The garden mouse eats what he can;
We will not grudge him seeds and stalks,
Poor little timid furry man.
LULLABY
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Flowers are closed and lambs are sleeping;
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Stars are up, the moon is peeping;
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
While the birds are silence keeping,
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Sleep, my baby, fall a-sleeping,
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
THE SISTERS
Sing me a song--
What shall I sing?--
Three merry sisters
Dancing in a ring,
Light and fleet upon their feet
As birds upon the wing.
Tell me a tale--
What shall I tell?--
Two mournful sisters,
And a tolling knell,
Tolling ding and tolling dong,
Ding dong bell.
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
THE WIND
I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies' skirts across the grass--
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all--
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
O you that are so strong and cold!
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child than me?
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
WINDY NIGHTS
Whenever the moon and stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?
Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he;
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again.
THE WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN
A child should always say what's true
And speak when he is spoken to,
And behave mannerly at table;
At least as far as he is able.
MY BED IS A BOAT
My bed is like a little boat;
Nurse helps me in when I embark;
She girds me in my sailor's coat
And starts me in the dark.
At night, I go on board and say
Good night to all my friends on shore;
I shut my eyes and sail away,
And see and hear no more.
And sometimes things to bed I take,
As prudent sailors have to do;
Perhaps a slice of wedding cake,
Perhaps a toy or two.
All night across the dark we steer;
But when the day returns at last,
Safe in my room, beside the pier,
I find my vessel fast.
THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE
When I was sick and lay abed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay
To keep me happy all the day.
And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bedclothes, through the hills;
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.
I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.
THE LAND OF STORYBOOKS
At evening when the lamp is lit,
Around the fire my parents sit;
They sit at home and talk and sing,
And do not play at anything.
Now, with my little gun, I crawl
All in the dark along the wall,
And follow round the forest track
Away behind the sofa back.
There, in the night, where none can spy,
All in my hunter's camp I lie,
And play at books that I have read
Till it is time to go to bed.
These are the hills, these are the woods,
These are my starry solitudes;
And there the river by whose brink
The roaring lions come to drink.
I see the others far away
As if in firelit camp they lay,
And I, like to an Indian scout,
Around their party prowled about.
So, when my nurse comes in for me,
Home I return across the sea,
And go to bed with backward looks
At my dear Land of Storybooks.
LUCY LARCOM
IF I WERE A SUNBEAM
"If I were a sunbeam,
I know what I'd do;
I would seek white lilies,
Rainy woodlands through.
I would steal among them,
Softest light I'd shed,
Until every lily
Raised its drooping head.
"If I were a sunbeam,
I know where I'd go;
Into lowliest hovels,
Dark with want and woe:
Till sad hearts looked upward,
I would shine and shine;
Then they'd think of heaven,
Their sweet home and mine."
Art thou not a sunbeam,
Child, whose life is glad
With an inner radiance
Sunshine never had?
O, as God hath blessed thee,
Scatter rays divine!
For there is no sunbeam
But must die or shine.
THE RIVULET
Run, little rivulet, run!
Summer is fairly begun.
Bear to the meadow the hymn of the pines,
And the echo that rings where the waterfall shines;
Run, little rivulet, run!
Run, little rivulet, run!
Sing to the fields of the sun
That wavers in emerald, shimmers in gold,
Where you glide from your rocky ravine, crystal cold;
Run, little rivulet, run!
Run, little rivulet, run!
Sing of the flowers, every one,--
Of the delicate harebell and violet blue;
Of the red mountain rosebud, all dripping with dew;
Run, little rivulet, run!
Run, little rivulet, run!
Carry the perfume you won
From the lily, that woke when the morning was gray,
To the white waiting moonbeam adrift on the bay;
Run, little rivulet, run!
Run, little rivulet, run!
Stay not till summer is done!
Carry the city the mountain birds' glee;
Carry the joy of the hills to the sea;
Run, little rivulet, run!
THE BROWN THRUSH
There's a merry brown thrush sitting up in the tree.
He's singing to me! He's singing to me!
And what does he say, little girl, little boy?
"Oh, the world's running over with joy!
Don't you hear? Don't you see?
Hush! Look! In my tree
I'm as happy as happy can be!"
And the brown thrush keeps singing, "A nest do you see,
And five eggs, hid by me in the juniper tree?
Don't meddle! Don't touch! little girl, little boy,
Or the world will lose some of its joy!
Now I'm glad! now I'm free!
And I always shall be,
If you never bring sorrow to me."
So the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree,
To you and to me, to you and to me;
And he sings all the day, little girl, little boy,
"Oh, the world's running over with joy!
But long it won't be,
Don't you know? don't you see?
Unless we are as good as can be!"
ANN AND JANE TAYLOR
MEDDLESOME MATTY
One ugly trick has often spoiled
The sweetest and the best:
Matilda, though a pleasant child,
One grievous fault possessed,
Which, like a cloud before the skies,
Hid all her better qualities.
Sometimes she'd lift the teapot lid
To peep at what was in it;
Or tilt the kettle, if you did
But turn your back a minute.
In vain you told her not to touch,
Her trick of meddling grew so much.
Her grandmamma went out one day
And by mistake she laid
Her spectacles and snuffbox gay
Too near the little maid.
"Ah! well," thought she, "I'll try them on
As soon as grandmamma is gone."
Forthwith she placed upon her nose
The glasses large and wide;
And looking round, as I suppose,
The snuffbox too she spied:
"Oh! what a pretty box is that;
I'll open it," said little Matt.
"I know that grandmamma would say,
'Don't meddle with it, dear';
But then, she's far enough away,
And no one else is near.
Besides, what can there be amiss
In opening such a box as this?"
So thumb and finger went to work
To move the stubborn lid,
And presently a mighty jerk
The mighty mischief did;
For all at once, ah! woeful case.
The snuff came puffing in her face.
Poor eyes and nose and mouth, beside,
A dismal sight presented;
In vain, as bitterly she cried,
Her folly she repented;
In vain she ran about for ease,
She could do nothing now but sneeze.
She dashed the spectacles away
To wipe her tingling eyes,
And as in twenty bits they lay,
Her grandmamma she spies.
"Heyday! and what's the matter now?"
Says grandmamma with lifted brow.
Matilda, smarting with the pain,
And tingling still, and sore,
Made many a promise to refrain
From meddling evermore.
And 'tis a fact, as I have heard,
She ever since has kept her word.
THE VIOLET
Down in a green and shady bed
A modest violet grew,
Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,
As if to hide from view.
And yet it was a lovely flower,
Its color bright and fair;
It might have graced a rosy bower
Instead of hiding there.
Yet there it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;
And there diffused a sweet perfume
Within the silent shade.--
Then let me to the valley go
This pretty flower to see,
That I may also learn to grow
In sweet humility.
THE STAR
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Then the traveler in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark!
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.
In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye
Till the sun is in the sky.
As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveler in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
THE WAY TO BE HAPPY
How pleasant it is at the end of the day,
No follies to have to repent,
But reflect on the past and be able to say,
My time has been properly spent!
When I've done all my business with patience and care,
And been good, and obliging, and kind,
I lie on my pillow and sleep away there,
With a happy and peaceable mind.
Instead of all this, if it must be confest,
That I careless and idle have been,
I lie down as usual, and go to my rest,
But feel discontented within.
Then as I dislike all the trouble I've had,
In future I'll try to prevent it,
For I never am naughty without being sad,
Or good--without being contented.
ISAAC WATTS
AGAINST IDLENESS AND MISCHIEF
How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!
How skillfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads her wax!
And labors hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.
In works of labor or of skill,
I would be busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past,
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last.
A MORNING SONG
My God, who makes the sun to know
His proper hour to rise,
And to give light to all below,
Doth send him round the skies.
When from the chambers of the east
His morning race begins,
He never tires, nor stops to rest,
But round the world he shines.
So, like the sun, would I fulfill
The business of the day:
Begin my work betimes, and still
March on my heavenly way.
Give me, O Lord, thy early grace,
Nor let my soul complain
That the young morning of my days
Has all been spent in vain.
A CRADLE HYMN
Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber!
Holy angels guard thybed!
Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.
Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment,
House and home, thy friends provide;
All without thy care or payment,
All thy wants are well supplied.
How much better thou'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be,
When from heaven He descended,
And became a child like thee!
Soft and easy is thy cradle;
Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay,
When His birthplace was a stable,
And His softest bed was hay.
Lo, He slumbers in His manger,
Where the horned oxen fed;
Peace, my darling, here's no danger,
Here's no ox a-near thy bed.
Mayst thou live to know and fear Him,
Trust and love Him all thy days;
Then go dwell forever near Him,
See His face, and sing His praise!
LEWIS CARROLL
JABBERWOCKY
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimbel in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O Frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimbel in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
YOU ARE OLD, FATHER WILLIAM
"You are old, father William," the young man said
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head--
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"
"In my youth," father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."
"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door--
Pray, what is the reason of that?"
"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his gray locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment--one shilling the box--
Allow me to sell you a couple?"
"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak--
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"
"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw
Has lasted the rest of my life."
"You are old," said the youth; "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose--
What made you so awfully clever?"
"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you downstairs!"
THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER
The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might;
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright--
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.
The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done--
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"
The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky;
No birds were flying overhead--
There were no birds to fly.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand--
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be grand!"
"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.
"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach;
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."
The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said;
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head--
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the Oyster bed.
But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat;
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat--
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low--
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."
"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.
"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need;
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."
"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine!" the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?
"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but,
"Cut us another slice.
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"
"It seems a shame," the Walrus said.
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but,
"The butter's spread too thick!"
"I weep for you," the Walrus said;
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
"O Oysters", said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?"
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.
EDWARD LEAR
There was an Old Man of the West,
Who never could get any rest;
So they set him to spin on his nose and his chin.
Which cured that Old Man of the West.
* * * * *
There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, "It is just as I feared!--
Two Owls and a Hen, four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard!"
* * * * *
There was an Old Person of Dean,
Who dined on one pea and one bean;
For he said, "More than that would make me too fat,"
That cautious Old Person of Dean.
* * * * *
There was a Young Lady whose chin
Resembled the point of a pin;
So she had it made sharp, and purchased a harp,
And played several tunes with her chin.
* * * * *
There is a Young Lady whose nose
Continually prospers and grows;
When it grew out of sight, she exclaimed in a fright,
"Oh! Farewell to the end of my nose!"
THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT
The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat:
They took some honey, and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"
Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh! let us be married; too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the bong-tree grows;
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.
"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
THE JUMBLIES
They went to sea in a sieve, they did;
In a sieve they went to sea:
In spite of all their friends could say,
On a winter's morn, on a stormy day,
In a sieve they went to sea.
And when the sieve turned round and round,
And every one cried, "You'll all be drowned!"
They called aloud, "Our sieve ain't big;
But we don't care a button, we don't care a fig:
In a sieve we'll go to sea!"
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live:
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue;
And they went to sea in a sieve.
They sailed away in a sieve, they did,
In a sieve they sailed so fast,
With only a beautiful pea-green veil
Tied with a ribbon, by way of a sail,
To a small tobacco-pipe mast.
And every one said who saw them go,
"Oh! won't they be soon upset, you know?
For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long;
And happen what may, it's extremely wrong
In a sieve to sail so fast."
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live:
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue;
And they went to sea in a sieve.
The water it soon came in, it did;
The water it soon came in:
So, to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet
In a pinky paper all folded neat;
And they fastened it down with a pin.
And they passed the night in a crockery-jar;
And each of them said, "How wise we are!
Though the night be dark, and the voyage be long,
Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong,
While round in our sieve we spin."
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live:
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue;
And they went to sea in a sieve.
And all night long they sailed away;
And when the sun went down,
They whistled and warbled a moony song
To the echoing sound of a coppery gong,
In the shade of the mountains brown.
"O Timballo! How happy we are
When we live in a sieve and a crockery jar!
And all night long, in the moonlight pale,
We sail away with a pea-green sail
In the shade of the mountains brown."
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live:
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue;
And they went to sea in a sieve.
They sailed to the Western Sea, they did,--
To a land all covered with trees:
And they bought an owl, and a useful cart,
And a pound of rice, and a cranberry tart,
And a hive of silvery bees;
And they bought a pig, and some green jackdaws,
And a lovely monkey with lollipop paws,
And forty bottles of ring-bo-ree,
And no end of Stilton cheese.
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live:
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue;
And they went to sea in a sieve.
And in twenty years they all came back,--
In twenty years or more;
And every one said, "How tall they've grown!
For they've been to the Lakes, and the Torrible Zone,
And the hills of the Chankly Bore."
And they drank their health, and gave them a feast
Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast;
And every one said, "If we only live,
We, too, will go to sea in a sieve,
To the hills of the Chankly Bore."
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live:
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue;
And they went to sea in a sieve.
BALLADS
POPULAR
BONNY BARBARA ALLAN
It was in and about the Martinmas time,
When the green leaves were a-falling,
That Sir John Graeme, in the West Country,
Fell in love with Barbara Allan.
He sent his man down through the town,
To the place where she was dwelling:
"O haste and come to my master dear,
Gin ye be Barbara Allan."
O hooly, hooly rose she up,
To the place where he was lying,
And when she drew the curtain by:
"Young man, I think you're dying."
"O it's I'm sick, and very, very sick,
And 'tis a' for Barabara Allan";
"O the better for me ye's never be,
Tho your heart's blood were a-spilling.
"Do you remember the other day,
When we were at the tavern drinking,
You drank a health to the ladies all,
And you slighted Barbara Allan?"
"Yes, I remember the other day,
When we were at the tavern drinking,
I drank a health to the ladies all,
And three to Barbara Allan."
"Do you remember the other night,
When we were at the ballroom dancing,
You gave your hand to the ladies all,
And slighted Barbara Allan?"
"Yes, I remember the other night,
When we were at the ballroom dancing,
I gave my hand to the ladies all,
And my heart to Barbara Allan."
He turned his face unto the wall,
And death was with him dealing:
"Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all.
And be kind to Barbara Allan."
And slowly, slowly raise she up,
And slowly, slowly left him,
And, sighing, said she could not stay,
Since death of life had reft him.
She had not gane a mile but twa,
When she heard the dead-bell ringing,
And every jow that the dead-bell geid,
It cry'd, "Woe to Barbara Allan."
"O mother, mother, make my bed!
O make it saft and narrow!
Since my love died for me today,
I'll die for him tomorrow."
SIR PATRICK SPENCE
The king sits in Dunferling toune,
Drinking the blude-reid wine;
"O whar will I get a guid sailor
To sail this schip of mine?"
Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Sat at the king's richt kne:
"Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor,
That sails upon the se."
The king has written a braid letter,
And signd it wi' his hand;
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
Was walking on the sand.
The first line that Sir Patrick red,
A loud lauch lauched he;
The next line that Sir Patrick red.
The teir blinded his ee.
"O wha is this has don this deid,
This ill deid don to me,
To send me out this time o' the yeir,
To sail upon the se!
"Mak haste, mak haste, my mirry men all,
Our guid schip sails the morne."
"O say na sae, my master deir,
For I feir a deadlie storme.
"Late late yestreen I saw the new moone,
Wi' the auld moone in his arme,
And I feir, I feir, my deir master,
That we will com to harme."
O our Scots nobles wer richt laith
To weet their cork-heild schoone;
Bot lang owre a' the play wer playd,
Thair hats they swam aboone.
O lang, lang may their ladies sit,
Wi' thair fans into their hand,
Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence
Cum sailing to the land.
O lang, lang may the ladies stand,
Wi' thair gold kerns in their hair,
Waiting for thair ain deir lords,
For they'll se thame na mair.
Half owre, half owre to Aberdour,
It's fiftie fadom deip,
And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence,
Wi' the Scots lords at his feit.
ROBIN HOOD AND ALLIN A DALE
Come listen to me, you gallants so free,
All you that loves mirth for to hear,
And I will tell you of a bold outlaw,
That lived in Nottinghamshire.
As Robin Hood in the forest stood,
All under the greenwood tree,
There was he ware of a brave young man,
As fine as fine might be.
The youngster was clothed in scarlet red,
In scarlet fine and gay;
And he did frisk it over the plain,
And chanted a roundelay.
As Robin Hood next morning stood,
Amongst the leaves so gay,
There did he espy the same young man
Come drooping along the way.
The scarlet he wore the day before,
It was clean cast away;
And at every step he fetcht a sigh,
"Alack and a well a day!"
Then stepped forth brave Little John,
And Nick the miller's son,
Which made the young man bend his bow,
When as he see them come.
"Stand off, stand off," the young man said,
"What is your will with me?"
"You must come before our master straight,
Under yon greenwood tree."
And when he came bold Robin before,
Robin askt him courteously,
"O hast thou any money to spare
For my merry men and me?"
"I have no money," the young man said,
"But five shillings and a ring;
And that I have kept this seven long years,
To have it at my wedding.
"Yesterday I should have married a maid,
But she is now from me tane,
And chosen to be an old knight's delight,
Whereby my poor heart is slain."
"What is thy name?" then said Robin Hood,
"Come tell me, without any fail":
"By the faith of my body," then said the young man,
"My name it is Allin a Dale."
"What wilt thou give me," said Robin Hood,
"In ready gold or fee,
To help thee to thy true-love again,
And deliver her unto thee?"
"I have no money," then quoth the young man,
"No ready gold nor fee,
But I will swear upon a book
Thy true servant for to be."
"How many miles is it to thy true-love?
Come tell me without any guile":
"By the faith of my body," then said the young man,
"It is but five little mile."
Then Robin he hasted over the plain,
He did neither stint nor lin,
Until he came unto the church,
Where Allin should keep his wedding.
"What dost thou do here?" the bishop he said,
"I prithee now tell to me":
"I am a bold harper," quoth Robin Hood,
"And the best in the north countrey."
"O welcome, O welcome," the bishop he said,
"That musick best pleaseth me":
"You shall have no musick," quoth Robin Hood,
"Till the bride and the bridegroom I see."
With that came in a wealthy knight,
Which was both grave and old,
And after him a finikin lass
Did shine like glistering gold.
"This is no fit match," quoth bold Robin Hood,
"That you do seem to make here;
For since we are come unto the church,
The bride she shall chuse her own dear."
Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth,
And blew blasts two or three;
When four and twenty bowmen bold
Came leaping over the lee.
And when they came into the church-yard,
Marching all on a row,
The first man was Allin a Dale,
To give bold Robin his bow.
"This is thy true-love," Robin he said,
"Young Allin, as I hear say:
And you shall be married at this same time,
Before we depart away."
"That shall not be," the bishop he said,
"For thy word shall not stand;
They shall be three times askt in the church,
As the law is of our land."
Robin Hood pulld off the bishop's coat,
And put it upon Little John;
"By the faith of my body," then Robin said,
"This cloath doth make thee a man."
When Little John went into the quire,
The people began for to laugh;
He askt them seven times in the church,
Lest three times should not be enough.
"Who gives me this maid?" then said Little John;
Quoth Robin, "That do I,
And he that doth take her from Allin a Dale
Full dearly he shall her buy."
And thus having ended this merry wedding,
The bride lookt as fresh as a queen,
And so they returned to the merry greenwood,
Amongst the leaves so green.
KINMONT WILLIE
O! have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde?
O! have ye na heard o' the keen Lord Scroope?
How they hae taen bauld Kinmont Willie
On Haribee to hang him up?
Had Willie had but twenty men,
But twenty men as stout as he,
Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta'en,
Wi' eight score in his companie.
They band his legs beneath the steed,
They tied his hands behind his back;
They guarded him, fivesome on each side,
And they brought him ower the Liddel-rack.
They led him thro' the Liddel-rack,
And also thro' the Carlisle sands;
They brought him to Carlisle castell,
To be at my Lord Scroope's commands.
"My hands are tied, but my tongue is free,
And whae will dare this deed avow?
Or answer by the border law?
Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch?"
"Now baud thy tongue, thou rank reiver!
There's never a Scot shall set thee free;
Before ye cross my castle yate,
I trow ye shall take farewell o' me."
"Fear na ye that, my lord," quo' Willie;
"By the faith o' my bodie, Lord Scroope," he said,
"I never yet lodged in a hostelrie
But I paid my lawing before I gaed."
Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper,
In Branksome Ha', where that he lay,
That Lord Scroope has ta'en the Kinmont Willie,
Between the hours of night and day.
He has ta'en the table wi' his hand,
He garr'd the red wine spring on hie--
"Now Christ's curse on my head," he said,
"But avenged of Lord Scroope I'll be!
"Oh is my basnet a widow's curch?
Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree?
Or my arm a ladye's lilye hand,
That an English lord should lightly me?
"And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie,
Against the truce of the Bordertide?
And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch
Is keeper here on the Scottish side?
"And have they e'en ta'en him, Kinmont Willie,
Withouten either dread or fear?
And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch
Can back a steed, or shake a spear?
"O were there war between the lands,
As well I wot that there is none,
I would slight Carlisle castell high,
Tho it were builded of marble stone.
"I would set that castell in a low,
And sloken it with English blood!
There's never a man in Cumberland
Should ken where Carlisle castell stood.
"But since nae war's between the lands,
And there is peace, and peace should be;
I'll neither harm English lad or lass,
And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!"
He has call'd him forty Marchmen bauld.
I trow they were of his ain name,
Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, call'd
The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same.
He has call'd him forty Marchmen bauld,
Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch;
With spur on heel, and splent on spauld;
And gleuves of green, and feathers blue.
There were five and five before them a',
Wi' hunting-horns and bugles bright,
And five and five came wi' Buccleuch
Like warden's men, array'd for fight;
And five and five, like a mason gang,
That carried the ladders lang and hie;
And five and five, like broken men,
And so they reach'd the Woodhouselee.
And as we cross'd the Bateable Land,
When to the English side we held,
The first o' men that we met wi',
Whae sould it be but fause Sakelde?
"Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen?"
Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell to me!"--
"We go to hunt an English stag,
Has trespass'd on the Scots countrie."
"Where be ye gaun, ye marshal men?"
Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell me true!"--
"We go to catch a rank reiver,
Has broken faith wi' the bauld Buccleuch."
"Where are ye gaun, ye mason lads,
Wi' a' your ladders, lang and hie?"--
"We gang to herry a corbie's nest,
That wons not far frae Woodhouselee."--
"Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?"
Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell to me!"--
Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band,
And the nevir a word of lear had he.
"Why trespass ye on the English side?
Row-footed outlaws, stand!" quo' he;
The nevir a word had Dickie to say,
Sae he thrust the lance through his fause bodie.
Then on we held for Carlisle toun.
And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we cross'd;
The water was great and meikle of spait,
But the nevir a horse nor man we lost.
And when we reach'd the Staneshaw-bank,
The wind was rising loud and hie;
And there the laird garr'd leave our steeds,
For fear that they should stamp and nie.
And when we left the Staneshaw-bank,
The wind began full loud to blaw,
But 'twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet,
When we came beneath the castel wa'.
We crept on knees, and held our breath,
Till we placed the ladders against the wa';
And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell
To mount the first before us a'.
He has ta'en the watchman by the throat,
He flung him down upon the lead--
"Had there not been peace between our lands,
Upon the other side thou hadst gaed!--
"Now sound out, trumpets!" quo' Buccleuch;
"Let's waken Lord Scroope right merrilie!"
Then loud the warden's trumpet blew--
"_O wha dare meddle wi' me?_"
Then speedilie to wark we gaed,
And raised the slogan ane and a',
And cut a hole through a sheet of lead,
And so we wan to the castle ha'.
They thought King James and a' his men
Had won the house wi' bow and spear;
It was but twenty Scots and ten,
That put a thousand in sic a stear!
Wi' coulters, and wi' forehammers,
We garr'd the bars bang merrilie,
Until we came to the inner prison,
Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie.
And when we cam to the lower prison,
Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie--
"O, sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie,
Upon the morn that thou's to die?"--
"O, I sleep saft, and I wake aft,'
It's lang since sleeping was fley'd frae me;
Gie my service back to my wife and bairns,
And a' gude fellows that spier for me."--
Then Red Rowan has hente him up,
The starkest man in Teviotdale--
"Abide, abide now, Red Rowan,
Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell.
"Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope!
My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!" he cried;
"I'll pay you for my lodging maill
When first we meet on the Border side."
Then shoulder high, with shout and cry,
We bore him down the ladder lang;
At every stride Red Rowan made,
I wot the Kinmont's airns play'd clang.
"O mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie,
"I have ridden horse baith wild and wood;
"But a rougher beast than Red Rowan
I ween my legs have ne'er bestrode.
"And mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie,
"I've prick'd a horse out oure the furs;
But since the day I back'd a steed
I never wore sic cumbrous spurs!"--
We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank,
When a' the Carlisle bells were rung,
And a thousand men, on horse and foot,
Cam wi' the keen Lord Scroope along.
Buccleuch has turn'd to Eden Water,
Even where it flow'd frae bank to brim,
And he has plunged in wi' a' his band,
And safely swam them through the stream.
He turn'd him on the other side,
And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he--
"If ye like na my visit in merry England,
In fair Scotland come visit me!"
All sore astonish'd stood Lord Scroope,
He stood as still as rock of stane;
He scarcely dared to trew his eyes,
When through the water they had gane.
"He is either himsell a devil frae hell,
Or else his mother a witch maun be;
I wadna have ridden that wan water,
For a' the gowd in Christentie."
MODERN
THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It was the schooner _Hesperus_,
That sailed the wintry sea;
And the skipper had taken his little daughter,
To bear him company.
Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,
Her cheeks like the dawn of day,
And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,
That ope in the month of May.
The skipper he stood beside the helm,
His pipe was in his mouth,
And he watched how the veering flaw did blow
The smoke now West, now South.
Then up and spake an old sailor,
Had sailed to the Spanish Main,
"I pray thee, put into yonder port,
For I fear a hurricane.
"Last night the moon had a golden ring,
And tonight no moon we see!"
The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe,
And a scornful laugh laughed he.
Colder and louder blew the wind,
A gale from the Northeast,
The snow fell hissing in the brine,
And the billows frothed like yeast.
Down came the storm, and smote amain
The vessel in its strength;
She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed,
Then leaped her cable's length.
"Come hither! come hither! my little daughter,
And do not tremble so;
For I can weather the roughest gale
That ever wind did blow."
He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat
Against the stinging blast;
He cut a rope from a broken spar.
And bound her to the mast.
"O father! I hear the church-bells ring,
O say, what may it be?"
"'Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast"--
And he steered for the open sea.
"O father! I hear the sound of guns,
O say, what may it be?"
"Some ship in distress, that cannot live
In such an angry sea!"
"O father! I see a gleaming light,
O say, what may it be?"
But the father answered never a word,
A frozen corpse was he.
Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,
With his face turned to the skies,
The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow
On his fixed and glassy eyes.
Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed
That saved she might be;
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave
On the Lake of Galilee.
And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
Through the whistling sleet and snow,
Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept
Tow'rds the reef of Norman's Woe.
And ever the fitful gusts between
A sound came from the land;
It was the sound of the trampling surf
On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.
The breakers were right beneath her bows,
She drifted a dreary wreck,
And a whooping billow swept the crew
Like icicles from her deck.
She struck where the white and fleecy waves
Looked soft as carded wool.
But the cruel rocks, they gored her side
Like the horns of an angry bull.
Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice,
With the masts went by the board;
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,
"Ho! ho!" the breakers roared!
At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach,
A fisherman stood aghast,
To see the form of a maiden fair,
Lashed close to a drifting mast.
The salt sea was frozen on her breast,
The salt tears in her eyes;
And he saw her hair, like the brown seaweed,
On the billows fall and rise.
Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,
In the midnight and the snow!
Christ save us all from a death like this,
On the reef of Norman's Woe!
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI
John Keats
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful--a faery's child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery's song.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She look'd at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew;
And sure in language strange she said--
"I love thee true."
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gazed, and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
So kiss'd to sleep.
And there we slumber'd on the moss,
And there I dream'd--Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream'd
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all
They cried--"La Belle Dame sans Merci,
Hath thee in thrall!"
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke, and found me here
On the cold hill side.
And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.
LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER
Thomas Campbell
A chieftain to the Highlands bound,
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry."--
"Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?"
"O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this Lord Ullin's daughter.
"And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.
"His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride
When they have slain her lover?"--
Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
"I'll go, my chief--I'm ready:--
It is not for your silver bright;
But for your winsome lady:
"And by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry:
So, though the waves are raging white,
I'll row you o'er the ferry."--
By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And in the scowl of heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.
But still as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.--
"O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
"Though tempests round us gather;
I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father."--
The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her,--
When, oh! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gathered o'er her.--
And still they rowed amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing:
Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore,--
His wrath was changed to wailing.--
For sore dismayed, through storm and shade,
His child he did discover:--
One lovely hand she stretched for aid,
And one was round her lover.
"Come back! come back!" he cried, in grief,
"Across this stormy water:
And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter! oh, my daughter!"--
'Twas vain:--the loud waves lashed the shore.
Return or aid preventing:--
The waters wild went o'er his child,
And he was left lamenting.
YOUNG LOCHINVAR
Sir Walter Scott
Oh young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword he weapon had none;
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone,
He swam the Esk river where ford there was none;
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late:
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall,
Among brid'smen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all;
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,)
"O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"--
"I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied;--
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide--
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."
The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,--
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bride-maidens whispered, "'Twere better by far,
To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near;
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.
There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran:
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX
16--
Robert Browning
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
"Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;
"Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through;
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest
And into the midnight we galloped abreast.
Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;
At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
At Duffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be;
And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,
So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"
At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,
And against him the cattle stood black every one,
To stare through the mist at us galloping past,
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
With resolute shoulders, each butting away
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray;
And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
And one eye's black intelligence,--ever that glance
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon
His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.
By Hasselt, Direk groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,
We'll remember at Aix"--for one heard the quick wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,
Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,
'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;
Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,
And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!"
"How they'll greet us!"--and all in a moment his roan
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate.
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.
Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer;
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good,
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.
And all I remember is--friends flocking round
As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground;
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.
THE REVENGE
A BALLAD OF THE FLEET
Alfred Tennyson
I
At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay,
And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away:
"Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!"
Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: "'Fore God I am no coward;
But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear,
And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick.
We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?"
II
Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: "I know you are no coward;
You fly them for a moment to fight with them again.
But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore.
I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard,
To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain."
III
So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day,
Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven;
But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land
Very carefully and slow,
Men of Bideford in Devon,
And we laid them on the ballast down below;
For we brought them all aboard,
And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain,
To the thumb-screw and the stake, for the glory of the Lord.
IV
He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight,
And he sailed away from Flores till the Spaniard came in sight,
With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weatherbow.
"Shall we fight or shall we fly?
Good Sir Richard, tell us now,
For to fight is but to die!
There'll be little of us left by the time this sun be set."
And Sir Richard said again: "We be all good Englishmen.
Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil,
For I never turn'd my back upon Don or devil yet."
V
Sir Richard spoke and he laugh'd, and we roar'd a hurrah, and so
The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe,
With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below;
For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen,
And the little Revenge ran on thro' the long sea-lane between.
VI
Thousands of their soldiers look'd down from their decks and laugh'd,
Thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little craft
Running on and on, till delay'd
By their mountain-like San Philip that, of fifteen hundred tons,
And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns,
Took the breath from our sails, and we stay'd.
VII
And while now the great San Philip hung above us like a cloud
Whence the thunderbolt will fall
Long and loud,
Four galleons drew away
From the Spanish fleet that day,
And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay,
And the battle-thunder broke from them all.
VIII
But anon the great San Philip, she bethought herself and went,
Having that within her womb that had left her ill content;
And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand.
For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers,
And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his ears,
When he leaps from the water to the land.
IX
And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea,
But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.
Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came,
Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder and flame;
Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame.
For some were sunk and many were shatter'd, and so could fight us no more--
God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?
X
For he said, "Fight on! fight on!"
Tho' his vessel was all but a wreck;
And it chanced that, when half of the short summer night was gone,
With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck,
But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead,
And himself he was wounded again in the side and the head,
And he said, "Fight on! fight on!"
XI
And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer sea,
And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring;
But they dared not touch us again, for they fear'd that we still could sting,
So they watch'd what the end would be.
And we had not fought them in vain,
But in perilous plight were we,
Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain,
And half of the rest of us maim'd for life
In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;
And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold,
And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it spent;
And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side;
But Sir Richard cried in his English pride:
"We have fought such a fight for a day and a night
As may never be fought again!
We have won great glory, my men!
And a day less or more
At sea or ashore,
We die--does it matter when?
Sink me the ship, Master Gunner--sink her, split her in twain!
Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!"
XII
And the gunner said, "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply:
"We have children, we have wives,
And the Lord hath spared our lives.
We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go;
We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow."
And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe.
XIII
And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then,
Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last,
And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace;
But he rose upon their decks, and he cried:
"I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true;
I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do.
With a joyful spirit I Sir Richard Grenville die!"
And he fell upon their decks, and he died.
XIV
And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true,
And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap
That he dared her with one little ship and his English few;
Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew,
But they sank his body with honor down into the deep,
And they mann'd the Revenge with a swarthier alien crew,
And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own;
When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep,
And the water began to heave and the weather to moan,
And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew,
And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew,
Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags,
And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy of Spain,
And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags
To be lost evermore in the main.
LYRICS
OUR COUNTRY
AMERICA
Samuel Francis Smith
My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty;
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,--
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring.
My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,--
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above.
Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song;
Let mortal tongues awake,
Let all that breathe partake!
Let rocks their silence break,--
The sound prolong.
Our fathers' God,--to Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing;
Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light;
Protect us by thy might,
Great God, our King.
MY NATIVE LAND
Sir Walter Scott
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
"This is my own, my native land!"
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concent'red all in self.
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung.
COLUMBUS
Joaquin Miller
Behind him lay the gray Azores,
Behind the Gates of Hercules;
Before him not the ghost of shores,
Before him only shoreless seas.
The good mate said: "Now must we pray,
For lo! the very stars are gone,
Brave Adm'r'l, speak; what shall I say?"
"Why, say: 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'"
"My men grow mutinous day by day;
My men grow ghastly, wan and weak."
The stout mate thought of home; a spray
Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek.
"What shall I say, brave Adm'r'l, say,
If we sight naught but seas at dawn?"
"Why, you shall say at break of day:
'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!'"
They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow,
Until at last the blanched mate said:
"Why, now not even God would know
Should I and all my men fall dead.
These very winds forget their way,
For God from these dread seas is gone.
Now speak, brave Adm'r'l; speak and say--"
He said: "Sail on! sail on! and on!"
They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate:
"This mad sea shows his teeth tonight.
He curls his lip, he lies in wait,
He lifts his teeth, as if to bite!
Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word:
What shall we do when hope is gone?"
The words leapt like a leaping sword:
"Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!"
Then, pale and worn, he paced his deck,
And peered through darkness. Ah, that night.
Of all dark nights! And then a speck--
A light! A light! At last a light!
It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!
It grew to be Time's burst of dawn.
He gained a world; he gave that world
Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!"
THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS IN NEW ENGLAND
Felicia Browne Hemans
Look now abroad! Another race has fill'd
Those populous borders--wide the wood recedes,
And towns shoot up, and fertile realms are till'd;
The land is full of harvests and green meads.
--_Bryant_
The breaking waves dash'd high
On a stern and rockbound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches toss'd.
And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles moor'd their bark
On the wild New England shore.
Not as the conqueror comes,
They, the true-hearted, came;
Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame;
Not as the flying come,
In silence and in fear;--
They shook the depths of the desert gloom
With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Amidst the storm they sang,
And the stars heard and the sea;
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
To the anthem of the free!
The ocean eagle soar'd
From his nest by the white wave's foam;
And the rocking pines of the forest roar'd,--
This was their welcome home!
There were men with hoary hair
Amidst that pilgrim band;--
Why had _they_ come to wither here,
Away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?--
They sought a faith's pure shrine!
Ay, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod.
They have left unstained, what there they found--
Freedom to worship God.
CONCORD HYMN
SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE MONUMENT, APRIL 19, 1836
Ralph Waldo Emerson
By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled.
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.
The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.
On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set today a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
Spirit, that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.
OLD IRONSIDES
Oliver Wendell Holmes
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky;
Beneath it rung the battle shout,
And burst the cannon's roar;--
The meteor of the ocean air
Shall sweep the clouds no more!
Her deck, once red with heroes' blood,
Where knelt the vanquished foe,
When winds were hurrying o'er the nood,
And waves were white below,
No more shall feel the victor's tread,
Or know the conquered knee;--
The harpies of the shore shall pluck
The eagle of the sea!
O better that her shattered hulk
Should sink beneath the wave;
Her thunders shook the mighty deep,
And there should be her grave;
Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every threadbare sail,
And give her to the god of storms,
The lightning and the gale!
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!
Walt Whitman
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has wether'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult, O Shores, and ring, O Bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
LOVE LYRICS
TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS
Richard Lovelace
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.
True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
Yet this inconstancy is such,
As you, too, shall adore;
I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honor more.
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY
George Gordon Byron
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
A RED, RED ROSE
Robert Burns
O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my luve is like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun!
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!
POEMS OF NATURE
THE GREENWOOD TREE
William Shakespeare
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat--
Come hither, come hither, come hither!
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Who doth ambition shun
And loves to live i' the sun,
Seeking the food he eats,
And pleased with what he gets--
Come hither, come hither, come hither!
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA
Allan Cunningham
A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
A wind that follows fast
And fills the white and rustling sail,
And bends the gallant mast!
And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
While, like the eagle free,
Away the good ship flies, and leaves
Old England on the lee.
"O for a soft and gentle wind!"
I heard a fair one cry;
But give to me the swelling breeze,
And white waves heaving high:
The white waves heaving high, my lads,
The good ship tight and free;
LYRICS
The world of waters is our home.
And merry men are we.
There's tempest in yon horned moon,
And lightning in yon cloud;
And hark the music, mariners!
The wind is wakening loud.
The wind is wakening loud, my boys,
The lightning flashes free--
The hollow oak our palace is,
Our heritage the sea.
I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD
William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
THE RHODORA ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER?
Ralph Waldo Emerson
In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,
I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,
Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook,
To please the desert and the sluggish brook.
The purple petals, fallen in the pool,
Made the black water with their beauty gay;
Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool,
And court the flower that cheapens his array.
Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why
This charm is wasted on the earth and sky,
Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing,
Then Beauty is its own excuse for being:
Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose!
I never thought to ask, I never knew;
But, in my simple ignorance, suppose
The selfsame Power that brought me there brought you.
TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN
William Cullen Bryant
Thou blossom bright with autumn dew,
And colored with the heaven's own blue,
That openest when the quiet light
Succeeds the keen and frosty night.
Thou comest not when violets lean
O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen,
Or columbines, in purple drest,
Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest.
Thou waitest late, and com'st alone,
When woods are bare and birds are flown,
And frosts and shortening days portend
The aged year is near his end.
Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye
Look through its fringes to the sky,
Blue--blue--as if that sky let fall
A flower from its cerulean wall.
I would that thus, when I shall see
The hour of death draw near to me,
Hope, blossoming within my heart,
May look to heaven as I depart.
THE EAGLE
Alfred Tennyson
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET
John Keats
The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the grasshopper's--he takes the lead
In summer luxury,--he has never done
With his delights; for, when tired out with fun,
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never.
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one, in drowsiness half lost,
The grasshopper's among some grassy hills.
LESSONS FROM NATURE
TO A WATERFOWL
William Cullen Bryant
Whither, midst falling dew,
While glow the heavens with the last steps of days,
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
Thy solitary way?
Vainly the fowler's eye
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
As, darkly seen against the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along.
Seek'st thou the plashy brink
Of weedy lake or marge of river wide,
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
On the chafed ocean-side?
There is a Power whose care
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,--
The desert and illimitable air,--
Lone wandering, but not lost.
All day thy wings have fanned,
At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere,
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
Though the dark night is near.
And soon that toil shall end;
Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest,
And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend,
Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest.
Thou'rt gone! the abyss of heaven
Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart
Deeply has sunk the lesson thou hast given,
And shall not soon depart.
He who, from zone to zone,
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
In the long way that I must tread alone,
Will lead my steps aright.
THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS
Oliver Wendell Holmes
This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,
Sails the unshadowed main,--
The venturous bark that flings
On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings
In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings,
And coral reefs lie bare,
Where the cold sea maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;
Wrecked is the ship of pearl!
And every chambered cell,
Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,
Before thee lies revealed,--
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!
Year after year beheld the silent toil
That spread his lustrous coil;
Still, as the spiral grew,
He left the past year's dwelling for the new,
Stole with soft step its shining archway through,
Built up its idle door,
Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,
Child of the wandering sea,
Cast from her lap, forlorn!
From thy dead lips a clearer note is born
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!
While on mine ear it rings,
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:--
Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
THE BUGLE SONG
Alfred Tennyson
The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story;
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O, sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river;
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
SONGS OF LIFE
THE NOBLE NATURE
Ben Jonson
It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make men better be,
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
A lily of a day,
Is fairer far, in May,
Although it fall and die that night;
It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauty see;
And in short measures, life may perfect be.
THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE
Sir Henry Wotton
How happy is he born and taught,
That serveth not another's will;
Whose armor is his honest thought,
And simple truth, his utmost skill;
Whose passions not his masters are,
Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Untied unto the world by care
Of public fame or private breath;
Who envies none that chance doth raise,
Nor vice; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise,
Nor rules of state, but rules of good;
Who hath his life from rumors freed,
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make oppressors great;
Who God doth late and early pray,
More of his grace than gifts to lend,
And entertains the harmless day
With a religious book, or friend.
This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands,
And having nothing, yet hath all.
SAY NOT, THE STRUGGLE NOUGHT AVAILETH
Arthur Hugh Clough
Say not, the struggle nought availeth,
The labor and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.
If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.
For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.
And not by eastern windows only,
When daylight comes, comes in the light,
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
But westward, look, the land is bright.
FOR A' THAT AN' A' THAT
Robert Burns
Is there for honest poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him by,--
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Our toils obscure, an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that.
What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hodden gray, an' a' that?
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine--
A man's a man for a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their tinsel show, an' a 'that:
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.
Ye see yon birkie ca'd "a lord,"
Wha' struts an' stares, an' a 'that?
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a cuif for a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
His riband, star, an' a' that,
The man o' independent mind
He looks an' laughs at a' that.
A prince can mak' a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that!
But an honest man's aboon his might,--
Guid faith, he mauna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that,
The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.
Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's comin' yet, for a' that,
That man to man, the world o'er,
Shall brithers be for a' that.
INVICTUS
William Ernest Henly
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
OPPORTUNITY
Edward Rowland Sill
This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:--
There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords
Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner
Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.
A craven hung along the battle's edge,
And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel--
That blue blade that the king's son bears,--but this
Blunt thing--!" he snapt and flung it from his hand,
And lowering crept away and left the field.
Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead,
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,
And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.
A PSALM OF LIFE
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!--
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Finds us farther than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present,
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;--
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
AESOP
THE DOG AND THE SHADOW
A Dog, crossing a little rivulet with a piece of meat in his mouth,
saw his own shadow represented in the clear mirror of the limpid
stream; and, believing it to be another dog, who was carrying a
larger piece of meat, he could not forbear catching at it; but was
so far from getting anything by his greedy design, that he dropped
the piece he had in his mouth, which immediately sank to the bottom,
and was irrecoverably lost.
THE FOX AND THE GRAPES
A Fox, very hungry, chanced to come into a vineyard, where there
hung branches of charming ripe grapes; but nailed up to a trellis so
high that he leaped till he quite tired himself without being able
to reach one of them. At last, "Let who will take them!" says he;
"they are but green and sour; so I will even let them alone."
THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE
A Hare laughed at a Tortoise upon account of his slowness, and
vainly boasted her own great speed in running. "Let us make a
match," replied the Tortoise; "I will run with you five miles for a
wager, and the fox yonder shall be the umpire of the race." The
Hare agreed; and away they both started together. But the Hare,
by reason of her exceeding swiftness, outran the Tortoise to such a
degree, that she made a jest of the matter; and thinking herself sure
of the race, squatted in a tuft of fern that grew by the way, and
took a nap, thinking that, if the Tortoise went by, she could at
any time overtake him with all the ease imaginable. In the meanwhile
the Tortoise came jogging on with slow but continued motion;
and the Hare out of a too great security and confidence of victory,
oversleeping herself, the Tortoise arrived at the end of the race
first.
THE SHEPHERD'S BOY
A certain Shepherd's Boy kept his sheep upon a common, and in
sport and wantonness would often cry out, "The wolf! the wolf!"
By this means he several times drew the husbandmen in an adjoining
field from their work; who, finding themselves deluded, resolved
for the future to take no notice of his alarm. Soon after, the
wolf came indeed. The Boy cried out in earnest; but no heed being
given to his cries, the sheep were devoured by the wolf.
THE HUSBANDMAN AND THE STORK
The Husbandman set a net in his fields to take the cranes and geese
which came to feed upon the new-sown barley. He succeeded in
taking several, both cranes and geese, and among them a Stork,
who pleaded hard for his life, and, among other apologies which
he made, alleged that he was neither goose nor crane, but a poor
harmless Stork, who performed his duty to his parents to all intents
and purposes, feeding them when they were old, and, as occasion
required, carrying them from place to place upon his back. "All
this may be true," replied the Husbandman; "but, as I have taken
you in bad company, and in the same crime, you must expect to
suffer the same punishment."
THE WIND AND THE SUN
A dispute once arose betwixt the North Wind and the Sun about
the superiority of their power; and they agreed to try their strength
upon a traveler, which should be able to get his cloak off first. The
North Wind began, and blew a very cold blast, accompanied with
a sharp, driving shower. But this, and whatever else he could do,
instead of making the man quit his cloak, obliged him to gird it
about his body as close as possible. Next came the Sun; who, breaking
out from a thick watery cloud, drove away the cold vapors from
the sky, and darted his warm, sultry beams upon the head of the
poor weather-beaten traveler. The man growing faint with the
heat, and unable to endure it any longer, first throws off his heavy
cloak, and then flies for protection to the shade of a neighboring
grove.
THE TORTOISE AND THE GEESE
[Footnote: This and the following fable are from _The Tortoise and
the Geese, and Other Fables of Bidpai,_ retold by Maude Barrows
Button.]
A Tortoise and two Geese lived together in a pond for many years.
At last there came a drought and dried up the pond. Then the
Geese said to one another,--
"We must seek a new home quickly, for we cannot live without
water. Let us say farewell to the Tortoise and start at once."
When the Tortoise heard that they were going, he trembled with
fear, and besought them by their friendship not to desert him.
"Alas," the Geese replied, "there is no help for it. If we stay
here, we shall all three die, and we cannot take you with us, for you
cannot fly."
Still the Tortoise begged so hard not to be left behind that the
Geese finally said,--
"Dear Friend, if you will promise not to speak a word on
the journey, we will take you with us. But know beforehand, that
if you open your mouth to say one single word, you will be in instant
danger of losing your life."
"Have no fear," replied the Tortoise, "but that I shall be silent
until you give me leave to speak again. I would rather never open
my mouth again than be left to die alone here in the dried-up pond."
So the Geese brought a stout stick and bade the Tortoise grasp it
firmly in the middle by his mouth. Then they took hold of either
end and flew off with him. They had gone several miles in safety,
when their course lay over a village. As the country people saw this
curious sight of a Tortoise being carried by two Geese, they began
to laugh and cry out,--
"Oh, did you ever see such a funny sight in all your life!" And
they laughed loud and long.
The Tortoise grew more and more indignant. At last he could
stand their jeering no longer. "You stupid..." he snapped, but
before he could say more he had fallen to the ground and was
dashed to pieces.
THE PARTRIDGE AND THE CROW
A Crow flying across a road saw a Partridge strutting along the
ground.
"What a beautiful gait that Partridge has!" said the Crow. "I
must try to see if I can walk like him."
She alighted behind the Partridge and tried for a long time to
learn to strut. At last the Partridge turned around and asked the
Crow what she was about.
"Do not be angry with me," replied the Crow. "I have never
before seen a bird who walks as beautifully as you can, and I am
trying to learn to walk like you."
"Foolish bird!" responded the Partridge. "You are a Crow, and
should walk like a Crow. You would look silly indeed if you were
to strut like a Partridge."
But the Crow went on trying to learn to strut, until finally she
had forgotten her own gait, and she never learned that of the Partridge.
JEAN DE LA FONTAINE
THE FOX AND THE GRAPES
A fox, almost with hunger dying,
Some grapes upon a trellis spying,
To all appearance ripe, clad in
Their tempting russet skin,
Most gladly would have eat them;
But since he could not get them,
So far above his reach the vine,--
"They're sour." he said; "such grapes as these
The dogs may eat them if they please."
--Did he not better than to whine?
THE WOLF AND THE STORK
The wolves are prone to play the glutton.
One, at a certain feast, 'tis said,
So stuffed himself with lamb and mutton,
He seemed but little short of dead.
Deep in his throat a bone stuck fast.
Well for this wolf, who could not speak,
That soon a stork quite near him passed.
By signs invited, with her beak
The bone she drew
With slight ado,
And for this skillful surgery
Demanded, modestly, her fee.
"Your fee!" replied the wolf,
In accents rather gruff;
"And is it not enough
Your neck is safe from such a gulf?
Go, for a wretch ingrate,
Nor tempt again your fate!"
TRADITIONAL
THE OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG
Joseph Jacobs
An old woman was sweeping her house, and she found a little
crooked sixpence. "What," said she, "shall I do with this little
sixpence? I will go to market, and buy a little pig."
As she was coming home, she came to a stile: but the piggy
wouldn't go over the stile.
She went a little further, and she met a dog. So she said to him:
"Dog! dog! bite pig; piggy won't go over the stile; and I shan't
get home tonight." But the dog wouldn't.
She went a little further, and she met a stick. So she said:
"Stick! stick! beat dog! dog won't bite pig; piggy won't get
over the stile; and I shan't get home tonight." But the stick
wouldn't.
She went a little further, and she met a fire. So she said:
"Fire! fire! burn stick; stick won't beat dog; dog won't bite pig;
piggy won't get over the stile; and I shan't get home tonight." But
the fire wouldn't.
She went a little further, and she met some water. So she said:
"Water! water! quench fire; fire won't burn stick; stick won't
beat dog; dog won't bite pig; piggy won't get over the stile; and
I shan't get home tonight." But the water wouldn't.
She went a little further, and she met an ox. So she said: "Ox!
ox! drink water; water won't quench fire; fire won't burn stick;
stick won't beat dog; dog won't bite pig; piggy won't get over the
stile; and I shan't get home tonight." But the ox wouldn't.
She went a little further, and she met a butcher. So she said:
"Butcher! butcher! kill ox; ox won't drink water; water won't
quench fire; fire won't burn stick; stick won't beat dog; dog won't
bite pig; piggy won't get over the stile; and I shan't get home
tonight." But the butcher wouldn't.
She went a little further, and she met a rope. So she said:
"Rope! rope! hang butcher; butcher won't kill ox; ox won't drink
water; water won't quench fire; fire won't burn stick; stick won't
beat dog; dog won't bite pig; piggy won't get over the stile; and I
shan't get home tonight." But the rope wouldn't.
She went a little further, and she met a rat. So she said: "Rat!
rat! gnaw rope; rope won't hang butcher; butcher won't kill ox;
ox won't drink water; water won't quench fire; fire won't burn
stick; stick won't beat dog; dog won't bite pig; piggy won't get over
the stile; and I shan't get home tonight." But the rat wouldn't.
She went a little further, and she met a cat. So she said:
"Cat! cat! kill rat; rat won't gnaw rope; rope won't hang butcher;
butcher won't kill ox; ox won't drink water; water won't quench
fire; fire won't burn stick; stick won't beat dog; dog won't bite
pig; piggy won't get over the stile; and I shan't get home tonight."
But the cat said to her, "If you will go to yonder cow and
fetch me a saucer of milk, I will kill the rat." So away went the
old woman to the cow.
But the cow said to her: "If you will go to yonder haystack
and fetch me a handful of hay, I'll give you the milk." So away
went the old woman to the haystack; and she brought the hay to the
cow.
As soon as the cow had eaten the hay, she gave the old woman
the milk; and away she went with it in a saucer to the cat.
As soon as the cat had lapped up the milk, the cat began to kill
the rat; the rat began to gnaw the rope; the rope began to hang
the butcher; the butcher began to kill the ox; the ox began to drink
the water; the water began to quench the fire; the fire began to burn
the stick; the stick began to beat the dog; the dog began to bite the
pig; the little pig in fright jumped over the stile; and so the old
woman got home that night.
THE STORY OF THE THREE LITTLE PIGS
Joseph Jacobs
There was once an old sow with three little pigs, and as she
had not enough to keep them, she sent them out to seek their
fortune. The first that went off met a man with a bundle of straw,
and said to him:
"Please, man, give me that straw to build me a house."
Which the man did, and the little pig built a house with it.
Presently came along a wolf, and knocked at the door, and said:
"Little pig, little pig, let me come in."
To which the pig answered:
"No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin."
The wolf then answered to that:
"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."
So he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew his house in, and ate up
the little pig.
The second little pig met a man with a bundle of furze, and said:
"Please, man, give me that furze to build a house."
Which the man did, and the pig built his house. Then along came
the wolf, and said:
"Little pig, little pig, let me come in."
"No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin."
"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."
So he huffed, and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and at
last he blew the house in, and he ate up the little pig.
The third little pig met a man with a load of bricks, and said:
"Please, man, give me those bricks to build a house with."
So the man gave him the bricks, and he built his house with
them. So the wolf came, as he did to the other little pigs, and said:
"Little pig, little pig, let me come in."
"No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin."
"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."
Well, he huffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and he puffed,
and he puffed and huffed; but he could _not_ get the house down.
When he found that he could not, with all his huffing and puffing,
blow the house down, he said:
"Little pig, I know where there is a nice field of turnips."
"Where?" said the little pig.
"Oh, in Mr. Smith's Home-field, and if you will be ready tomorrow
morning, I will call for you, and we will go together and
get some for dinner."
"Very well," said the little pig, "I will be ready. What time
do you mean to go?"
"Oh, at six o'clock."
Well, the little pig got up at five, and got the turnips before the
wolf came (which he did about six), who said:
"Little pig, are you ready?"
The little pig said: "Ready? I have been and come back again,
and got a nice potful for dinner."
The wolf felt very angry at this, but thought that he would be
up to the little pig somehow or other, so he said:
"Little pig, I know where there is a nice apple tree."
"Where?" said the pig.
"Down at Merry-garden," replied the wolf, "and if you will
not deceive me, I will come for you at five o'clock tomorrow and
get some apples."
Well, the little pig bustled up the next morning at four o'clock,
and went for the apples, hoping to get back before the wolf came;
but he had further to go, and had to climb the tree, so that just as
he was coming down from it, he saw the wolf coming, which, as you
may suppose, frightened him very much. When the wolf came up,
he said:
"Little pig, what! are you here before me? Are they nice
apples?"
"Yes, very," said the little pig. "I will throw you down
one."
And he threw it so far, that, while the wolf was gone to pick it
up, the little pig jumped down and ran home. The next day the
wolf came again, and said to the little pig:
"Little pig, there is a fair at Shanklin this afternoon. Will you
go?
"Oh, yes," said the pig, "I will go; what time shall you be
ready?"
"At three," said the wolf. So the little pig went off before the
time as usual, and got to the fair, and bought a butter churn, which
he was going home with when he saw the wolf coming. Then he
could not tell what to do. So he got into the churn to hide, and by
so doing turned it round, and it rolled down the hill with the pig in
it, which frightened the wolf so much that he ran home without
going to the fair. He went to the little pig's house, and told him
how frightened he had been by a great round thing which came down
the hill past him. Then the little pig said:
"Hah, I frightened you, then. I had been to the fair and bought
a butter churn, and when I saw you, I got into it and rolled down
the hill."
Then the wolf was very angry indeed, and declared he would eat
up the little pig, and that he would get down the chimney after
him. When the little pig saw what he was about, he hung on the
pot full of water and made up a blazing fire, and, just as the wolf
was coming down, took off the cover, and in fell the wolf; so the
little pig put on the cover again in an instant, boiled him up, and
ate him for supper, and lived happy ever afterwards.
HANS IN LUCK
Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm
Hans had served his master seven years, and at last said to him,
"Master, my time is up; I should like to go home and see my
mother; so give me my wages." And the master said, "You have
been a faithful and good servant, so your pay shall be handsome."
Then he gave him a piece of silver that was as big as his head.
Hans took out his pocket handkerchief, put the piece of silver
into it, threw it over his shoulder, and jogged off homewards. As
he went lazily on, dragging one foot after the other, a man came in
sight, trotting along gayly on a capital horse. "Ah!" cried Hans
aloud, "what a fine thing it is to ride on horseback! he trips
against no stones, spares his shoes, and yet gets on he hardly knows
how." The horseman heard this, and said, "Well, Hans, why do
you go on foot, then?" "Ah!" said he, "I have this load to carry;
to be sure it is silver, but it is so heavy that I can't hold up my
head, and it hurts my shoulders sadly." "What do you say to
changing?" said the horseman; "I will give you my horse, and you
shall give me the silver." "With all my heart," said Hans; "but
I tell you one thing,--you'll have a weary task to drag it along."
The horseman got off, took the silver, helped Hans up, gave him the
bridle into his hand, and said, "When you want to go very fast,
you must smack your lips loud, and cry 'Jip.'"
Hans was delighted as he sat on the horse, and rode merrily on.
After a time he thought he should like to go a little faster, so he
smacked his lips and cried, "Jip." Away went the horse full gallop;
and before Hans knew what he was about, he was thrown off,
and lay in a ditch by the roadside; and his horse would have run
off, if a shepherd who was coming by, driving a cow, had not stopped
it. Hans soon came to himself, and got upon his legs again. He
was sadly vexed, and said to the shepherd, "This riding is no joke
when a man gets on a beast like this, that stumbles and flings him
off as if he would break his neck. However, I am off now once for
all; I like your cow a great deal better; one can walk along at one's
leisure behind her, and have milk, butter, and cheese every day into
the bargain. What would I give to have such a cow!" "Well,"
said the shepherd, "if you are so fond of her, I will change my
cow for your horse." "Done!" said Hans merrily. The shepherd
jumped upon the horse, and away he rode.
Hans drove off his cow quietly, and thought his bargain a very
lucky one. "If I have only a piece of bread, I can, whenever I
like, eat my butter and cheese with it; and when I am thirsty, I can
milk my cow and drink the milk: what can I wish for more?"
When he came to an inn, he halted, ate up all his bread, and gave his
last penny for a glass of beer: then he drove his cow towards his
mother's village; and the heat grew greater as noon came on, till
he began to be so hot and parched that his tongue clave to the roof
of his mouth. "I can find a cure for this," thought he; "now will
I milk my cow and quench my thirst;" so he tied her to the stump
of a tree, and held his leather cap to milk into; but not a drop was
to be had.
While he was trying his luck and managing the matter very clumsily,
the uneasy beast gave him a kick on the head that knocked him
down, and there he lay a long while senseless. Luckily a butcher
soon came by, wheeling a pig in a wheelbarrow. "What is the matter
with you?" said the butcher, as he helped him up. Hans told
him what had happened, and the butcher gave him a flask, saying,
"There, drink and refresh yourself; your cow will give you no
milk, she is an old beast good for nothing but the slaughterhouse."
"Alas, alas!" said Hans, "who would have thought it? If I kill
her, what would she be good for? I hate cow beef, it is not tender
enough for me. If it were a pig now, one could do something
with it; it would, at any rate, make some sausages." "Well," said
the butcher, "to please you I'll change, and give you the pig for
the cow." "Heaven reward you for your kindness!" said Hans. as
he gave the butcher the cow, and took the pig off the wheelbarrow,
and drove it off, holding it by the string that was tied to its leg.
So on he jogged, and all seemed now to go right with him. The
next person he met was a countryman, carrying a fine white goose
under his arm. The countryman stopped to ask what o'clock it was;
and Hans told him all his luck, and how he had made so many
good bargains. The countryman said he was going to take the
goose to a christening. "Feel," said he, "how heavy it is, and yet
it is only eight weeks old. Whoever roasts and eats it, may cut
plenty of fat off it, it has lived so well!" "You're right," said
Hans, as he weighed it in his hand; "but my pig is no trifle." Meantime
the countryman began to look grave, and shook his head.
"Hark ye," said he, "my good friend; your pig may get you into a
scrape; in the village I have just come from, the squire has had a
pig stolen out of his sty. I was dreadfully afraid, when I saw you,
that you had got the squire's pig; it will be a bad job if they
catch you; the least they'll do will be to throw you into the horse
pond."
Poor Hans was sadly frightened. "Good man," cried he, "pray
get me out of this scrape; you know this country better than I; take
my pig and give me the goose." "I ought to have something into
the bargain," said the countryman; "however, I will not bear hard
upon you, as you are in trouble." Then he took the string in his
hand, and drove off the pig by a side path; while Hans went on
the way homewards free from care.
As he came to the last village, he saw a scissors grinder, with
his wheel, working away, and singing. Hans stood looking for a
while, and at last said, "You must be well off, master grinder, you
seem so happy at your work." "Yes," said the other, "mine is a
golden trade; a good grinder never puts his hand in his pocket
without finding money in it:--but where did you get that beautiful
goose?" "I did not buy it, but changed a pig for it." "And
where did you get the pig?" "I gave a cow for it." "And the
cow?" "I gave a horse for it." "And the horse?" "I gave a
piece of silver as big as my head for that." "And the silver?"
"Oh, I worked hard for that seven long years." "You have thriven
well in the world hitherto," said the grinder; "now if you could find
money in your pocket whenever you put your hand into it, your
fortune would be made." "Very true: but how is that to be managed?"
"You must turn grinder like me," said the other: "you only want a
grindstone; the rest will come of itself. Here is one that is a
little the worse for wear: I would not ask more than the value of
your goose for it;--will you buy?" "How can you ask such a question?"
replied Hans; "I should be the happiest man in the world if I could
have money whenever I put my hand in my pocket; what could I want
more? there's the goose!" "Now," said the grinder, as he gave him
a rough stone that lay by his side, "this is a most capital stone;
do but manage it cleverly, and you can make an old nail cut with
it."
Hans took the stone and went off with a light heart; his eyes
sparkled for joy, and he said to himself, "I must have been born in
a lucky hour; everything that I want or wish for comes to me of
itself."
Meantime he began to be tired, for he had been traveling ever
since daybreak; he was hungry, too, for he had given away his
last penny in his joy at getting the cow. At last he could go no
further, and the stone tired him terribly; he dragged himself to the
side of a pond, that he might drink some water and rest awhile; so he
laid the stone carefully by his side on the bank: but as he stooped
down to drink, he forgot it, pushed it a little, and down it went
plump into the pond. For a while he watched it sinking in the deep,
clear water, then sprang up for joy, and again fell upon his knees,
and thanked heaven with tears in his eyes for its kindness in taking
away his only plague, the ugly heavy stone. "How happy am I,"
cried he: "no mortal was ever so lucky as I am." Then up he got
with a light and merry heart, and walked on free from all his
troubles, till he reached his mother's house.
THE VALIANT LITTLE TAILOR
Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm
One summer's morning a little tailor was sitting on his table by
the window; he was in good spirits, and sewed with all his might.
Then came a peasant woman down the street, crying, "Good jams,
cheap! Good jams, cheap!" This rang pleasantly in the tailor's
ears; he stretched his delicate head out of the window, and called,
"Come up here, dear woman; here you will get rid of your goods."
The woman came up the three steps to the tailor with her heavy
basket, and he made her unpack the whole of the pots for him. He
inspected all of them, lifted them up, put his nose to them, and at
length said, "The jam seems to me to be good, so weigh me out
four ounces, dear woman, and if it is a quarter of a pound that is
of no consequence." The woman, who had hoped to find a good
sale, gave him what he desired, but went away quite angry and
grumbling. "Now God bless the jam to my use," cried the little
tailor, "and give me health and strength;" so he brought the bread
out of the cupboard, cut himself a piece right across the loaf and
spread the jam over it. "That won't taste bitter," said he, "but I
will just finish the jacket before I take a bite." He laid the bread
near him, sewed on, and, in his joy, made bigger and bigger stitches.
In the meantime the smell of the sweet jam ascended so to the
wall, where the flies were sitting in great numbers, that they were
attracted and descended on it in hosts. "Hola! who invited you?"
said the little tailor, and drove the unbidden guests away. The
flies, however, who understood no German, would not be turned
away, but came back again in ever increasing companies.
Then the little tailor lost all patience, and got a bit of cloth from
the hole under his work table, and saying, "Wait, and I will give it
to you," struck it mercilessly on them. When he drew it away
and counted, there lay before him no fewer than seven, dead and
with legs stretched out.
"Art thou a fellow of that sort?" said he, and could not help
admiring his own bravery. "The whole town shall know of this!"
And the little tailor hastened to cut himself a girdle, stitched it, and
embroidered on it in large letters, "Seven at one stroke!" "What,
the town!" he continued, "the whole world shall hear of it!" and
his heart wagged with joy like a lamb's tail. The tailor put on
the girdle, and resolved to go forth into the world, because he
thought his workshop was too small for his valor.
Before he went away, he sought about in the house to see if there
was anything which he could take with him; however, he found
nothing but an old cheese, and that he put in his pocket. In front
of the door he observed a bird which had caught itself in the thicket.
It had to go into his pocket with the cheese.
Now he took to the road boldly, and as he was light and nimble,
he felt no fatigue. The road led him up a mountain, and when he
had reached the highest point of it, there sat a powerful giant looking
about him quite comfortably.
The little tailor went bravely up, spoke to him, and said, "Good
day, comrade, so thou art sitting there overlooking the wide-spread
world! I am just on my way thither, and want to try my luck. Hast
thou any inclination to go with me?" The giant looked contemptuously
at the tailor, and said, "Thou ragamuffin! Thou miserable creature!"
"Oh, indeed?" answered the little tailor, and unbuttoned his coat
and showed the giant the girdle. "There mayst thou read what
kind of a man I am!" The giant read, "Seven at one stroke!" and
thought that they had been men whom the tailor had killed, and
began to feel a little respect for the tiny fellow. Nevertheless he
wished to try him first, and took a stone in his hand and squeezed
it together so that the water dropped out of it. "Do that likewise,"
said the giant, "if thou hast strength." "Is that all?"
said the tailor, "that is child's play with us!" and put his hand into
his pocket, brought out the soft cheese, and pressed it until the
liquid ran out of it. "Faith," said he, "that was a little better,
wasn't it?"
The giant did not know what to say and could not believe it of the
little man. Then the giant picked up a stone and threw it so high
that the eye could scarcely follow it. "Now, little mite of a man,
do that likewise." "Well thrown," said the tailor, "but after all
the stone came down to earth again; I will throw you one which shall
never come back at all," and he put his hand into his pocket, took
out the bird, and threw it into the air. The bird, delighted with its
liberty, rose, flew away, and did not come back. "How does that
shot please you, comrade?" asked the tailor.
"Thou canst certainly throw," said the giant, "but now we will
see if thou art able to carry anything properly." He took the little
tailor to a mighty oak tree which lay there felled to the ground,
and said, "If thou art strong enough, help me to carry the tree
out of the forest." "Readily," answered the little man; "take thou
the trunk on thy shoulders, and I will raise up the branches and
twigs; after all, they are the heaviest." The giant took the trunk on
his shoulder, but the tailor seated himself on a branch, and the
giant, who could not look round, had to carry away the whole tree
and the little tailor into the bargain. He, behind, was quite merry
and happy and whistled the song, "Three tailors rode forth from the
gate," as if carrying the tree were child's play. The giant, after
he had dragged the heavy burden part of the way, could go no
further, and cried, "Hark you, I shall have to let the tree fall!"
The tailor sprang nimbly down, seized the tree with both arms as if
he had been carrying it, and said to the giant, "Thou art such a
great fellow, and yet thou canst not even carry the tree!"
They went on together; and as they passed a cherry tree, the
giant laid hold of the top of the tree where the ripest fruit was
hanging, bent it down, gave it into the tailor's hand, and bade him
eat. But the little tailor was much too weak to hold the tree;
and when the giant let it go, it sprang back again, and the tailor
was hurried into the air with it. When he had fallen down again
without injury, the giant said, "What is this? Hast thou not
strength enough to hold the weak twig?" "There is no lack of
strength," answered the little tailor. "Dost thou think that could
be anything to a man who has struck down seven at one blow?
I leapt over the tree because the huntsmen are shooting down there
in the thicket. Jump as I did, if thou canst do it." The giant
made the attempt, but could not get over the tree, and remained
hanging in the branches, so that in this also the tailor kept the
upper hand.
The giant said, "If thou art such a valiant fellow, come with me
into our cavern and spend the night with us." The little tailor was
willing, and followed him. When they went into the cave, other
giants were sitting there by the fire, and each of them had a roasted
sheep in his hand and was eating it. The little tailor looked round
and thought, "It is much more spacious here than in my workshop."
The giant showed him a bed and said he was to lie down in it and
sleep. The bed was, however, too big for the little tailor; he did
not lie down in it but crept into a corner. When it was midnight,
and the giant thought the little tailor was lying in a sound sleep,
he got up, took a great iron bar, cut through the bed with one blow,
and thought he had given the grasshopper his finishing stroke. With
the earliest dawn the giants went into the forest, and had quite
forgotten the little tailor, when all at once he walked up to them
quite merrily and boldly. The giants were terrified; they were afraid
that he would strike them all dead, and ran away in a great hurry.
The little tailor went onwards, always following his own pointed
nose. After he had walked for a long time, he came to the courtyard
of a royal palace, and as he felt weary he lay down on the grass
and fell asleep. Whilst he lay there, the people came and inspected
him on all sides, and read on his girdle, "Seven at one stroke!"
"Ah!" said they, "what does a great warrior here in the midst
of peace? He must be a mighty lord." They went and announced
him to the King, and gave it as their opinion that if war should
break out, this would be a weighty and useful man, who ought on no
account to be allowed to depart. The counsel pleased the King, and
he sent one of his courtiers to the little tailor to offer him military
service when he awoke. The ambassador remained standing by the sleeper,
waited until he stretched his limbs and opened his eyes, and then
conveyed to him this proposal. "For this very reason have I come here,"
the tailor replied; "I am ready to enter the King's service." He was
therefore honorably received, and a separate dwelling was assigned to
him.
The soldiers, however, were set against the little tailor, and wished
him a thousand miles away. "What is to be the end of this?" they
said amongst themselves. "If we quarrel with him and he strikes
about him, seven of us will fall at every blow; not one of us can
stand against him." They came therefore to a decision, betook
themselves in a body to the King, and begged for their dismissal.
"We are not prepared," said they, "to stay with a man who kills
seven at one stroke." The King was sorry that for the sake of one he
should lose all his faithful servants, wished that he had never set
eyes on the tailor, and would willingly have been rid of him again.
But he did not venture to give him his dismissal, for he dreaded lest
he should strike him and all his people dead and place himself on the
royal throne. He thought about it for a long time and at last found
good counsel. He sent to the little tailor and caused him to be informed
that as he was such a great warrior, he had one request to make to him.
In a forest of his country lived two giants, who caused great mischief
with their robbing, murdering, ravaging, and burning, and no one could
approach them without putting himself in danger of death. If the tailor
conquered and killed these two giants, he would give him his only
daughter to wife and half his kingdom as a dowry, likewise one hundred
horsemen should go with him to assist him. "That would indeed be a fine
thing for a man like me!" thought the little tailor. "One is not
offered a beautiful princess and half a kingdom every day of one's
life!" "Oh, yes," he replied, "I will soon subdue the giants, and do
not require the help of the hundred horsemen to do it; he who can hit
seven with one blow has no need to be afraid of two."
The little tailor went forth, and the hundred horsemen followed
him. When he came to the outskirts of the forest, he said to his
followers, "Just stay waiting here, I alone will soon finish off the
giants." Then he bounded into the forest and looked about right
and left. After a while he perceived both giants. They lay sleeping
under a tree and snored so that the branches waved up and
down. The little tailor, not idle, gathered two pocketfuls of stones
and with these climbed up a tree. When he was halfway up, he
slipped down by a branch until he sat just above the sleepers, and
then let one stone after another fall on the breast of one of the
giants. For a long time the giant felt nothing, but at last he awoke,
pushed his comrade, and said, "Why art thou knocking me?"
"Thou must be dreaming," said the other; "I am not knocking
thee." They laid themselves down to sleep again, and then the
tailor threw a stone down on the second. "What is the meaning of
this?" cried the other. "Why art thou pelting me?" "I am not
pelting thee," answered the first, growling. They disputed about
it for a time, but as they were weary they let the matter rest, and
their eyes closed once more. The little tailor began his game again,
picked out the biggest stone, and threw it with all his might on the
breast of the first giant. "That is too bad!" cried he, and sprang
up like a madman, and pushed his companion against the tree until
it shook. The other paid him back in the same coin, and they got
into such a rage that they tore up trees and belabored each other so
long that at last they both fell down dead on the ground at the
same time. Then the little tailor leapt down. "It is a lucky
thing," said he, "that they did not tear up the tree on which I was
sitting, or I should have had to spring on to another like a squirrel;
but we tailors are nimble." He drew out his sword and gave each of
them a couple of thrusts in the breast, and then went out to the
horsemen and said, "The work is done; I have given them both their
finishing stroke, but it was hard work! They tore up trees in
their sore need, and defended themselves with them, but all that is
to no purpose when a man like myself comes, who can kill seven
at one blow." "But are you not wounded?" asked the horsemen.
"You need not concern yourself about that," answered the tailor.
"They have not bent one hair of mine." The horsemen would not
believe him, and rode into the forest; there they found the giants
swimming in their blood, and all round about lay the torn-up
trees.
The little tailor demanded of the King the promised reward; he,
however, repented of his promise, and again bethought himself
how he could get rid of the hero. "Before thou receivest my daughter
and the half of my kingdom," said he to him," thou must perform
one more heroic deed. In the forest roams a unicorn which
does great harm, and thou must catch it first." "I fear one unicorn
still less than two giants. Seven at one blow is my kind of affair."
He took a rope and an ax with him, went forth into the forest, and
again bade those who went with him to wait outside. He had not to
seek long. The unicorn soon came towards him and rushed directly
on the tailor, as if it would spit him on its horn without more
ceremony. "Softly, softly; it can't be done as quickly as that,"
said he, and stood still and waited until the animal was quite close,
and then sprang nimbly behind the tree. The unicorn ran against
the tree with all its strength, and struck its horn so fast in the
trunk that it had not strength enough to draw it out again, and
thus it was caught. "Now I have got the bird," said the tailor, and
came out from behind the tree and put the rope round its neck, and
then with his ax he hewed the horn out of the tree, and when all
was ready he led the beast away and took it to the King.
The King still would not give him the promised reward, and made
a third demand. Before the wedding the tailor was to catch him a
wild boar that made great havoc in the forest, and the hunts--
men should give him their help. "Willingly," said the tailor, "that
is child's play!" He did not take the huntsmen with him into the
forest, and they were well pleased that he did not, for the wild boar
had several times received them in such a manner that they had
no inclination to lie in wait for him. When the boar perceived the
tailor, it ran on him with foaming mouth and whetted tusks, and
was about to throw him to the ground, but the active hero sprang into
a chapel, which was near, and up to the window at once, and in one
bound was out again. The boar ran in after him, but the tailor
ran round outside and shut the door behind it, and then the raging
beast, which was much too heavy and awkward to leap out of the
window, was caught. The little tailor called the huntsmen thither,
that they might see the prisoner with their own eyes. The hero, however,
went to the King, who was now, whether he liked it or not, obliged to
keep his promise, and gave him his daughter and the half of his kingdom.
Had he known that it was no warlike hero but a little tailor who was
standing before him, it would have gone to his heart still more than
it did. The wedding was held with great magnificence and small joy,
and out of the tailor a king was made.
After some time the young Queen heard her husband say in his
dreams at night, "Boy, make me the doublet and patch the pantaloons,
or else I will rap the yard measure over thine ears." Then
she discovered in what state of life the young lord had been born,
and next morning complained of her wrongs to her father, and
begged him to help her to get rid of her husband, who was nothing
else but a tailor. The King comforted her and said, "Leave thy
bedroom door open this night, and my servants shall stand outside,
and when he has fallen asleep shall go in, bind him, and take him
on board a ship which shall carry him into the wide world." The
woman was satisfied with this; but the King's armor-bearer, who
had heard all, was friendly with the young lord, and informed him of
the whole plot. "I'll put a screw into that business," said the little
tailor. At night he went to bed with his wife at the usual time, and
when she thought that he had fallen asleep, she got up, opened the
door, and then lay down again. The little tailor, who was only
pretending to be asleep, began to cry out in a clear voice, "Boy, make
me the doublet and patch me the pantaloons, or I will rap the yard
measure over thine ears. I smote seven at one blow, I killed two
giants, I brought away one unicorn and caught a wild boar, and am I to
fear those who are standing outside the room?" When these men
heard the tailor speaking thus, they were overcome with a great
dread, and ran as if the wild huntsman were behind them, and none
of them would venture anything further against him. So the little
tailor was a king and remained one, to the end of his life.
CINDERELLA, OR THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER
Charles Perrault
Once upon a time there was a gentleman who married, for his
second wife, the proudest and most haughty woman that ever was
seen. She had two daughters of her own, who were, indeed, exactly
like her in all things. The gentleman had also a young daughter, of
rare goodness and sweetness of temper, which she took from her
mother, who was the best creature in the world.
The wedding was scarcely over, when the stepmother's bad temper
began to show itself. She could not bear the goodness of this
young girl, because it made her own daughters appear the more
odious. The stepmother gave her the meanest work in the house
to do; she had to scour the dishes, tables, etc., and to scrub the floors
and clean out the bedrooms. The poor girl had to sleep in the
garret, upon a wretched straw bed, while her sisters lay in fine
rooms with inlaid floors, upon beds of the very newest fashion, and
where they had looking-glasses so large that they might see themselves
at their full length. The poor girl bore all patiently, and
dared not complain to her father, who would have scolded her if she
had done so, for his wife governed him entirely.
When she had done her work, she used to go into the chimney corner,
and sit down among the cinders; hence she was called Cinderwench.
The younger sister of the two, who was not so rude and uncivil as
the elder, called her Cinderella. However, Cinderella, in spite of
her mean apparel, was a hundred times more handsome than her sisters,
though they were always richly dressed.
It happened that the King's son gave a ball, and invited to it
all persons of fashion. Our young misses were also invited, for
they cut a very grand figure among the people of the countryside.
They were highly delighted with the invitation, and wonderfully
busy in choosing the gowns, petticoats, and head-dresses
which might best become them. This made Cinderella's lot still
harder, for it was she who ironed her sisters' linen and plaited
their ruffles. They talked all day long of nothing but how they
should be dressed.
"For my part," said the elder, "I will wear my red velvet suit
with French trimmings."
"And I," said the younger, "shall wear my usual skirt; but then,
to make amends for that, I will put on my gold-flowered mantle, and
my diamond stomacher, which is far from being the most ordinary
one in the world." They sent for the best hairdressers they could
get, to make up their hair in fashionable style, and bought patches
for their cheeks. Cinderella was consulted in all these matters,
for she had good taste. She advised them always for the best,
and even offered her services to dress their hair, which they were
very willing she should do..
As she was doing this, they said to her:
"Cinderella, would you not be glad to go to the ball?"
"Young ladies," she said, "you only jeer at me; it is not for
such as I am to go there."
"You are right," they replied; "people would laugh to see a
Cinderwench at a ball."
Any one but Cinderella would have dressed their hair awry, but
she was good-natured, and arranged it perfectly well. They were
almost two days without eating, so much were they transported with
joy. They broke above a dozen laces in trying to lace themselves
tight, that they might have a fine, slender shape, and they were
continually at their looking-glass.
At last the happy day came; they went to Court, and Cinderella
followed them with her eyes as long as she could, and when she
had lost sight of them, she fell a-crying.
Her godmother, who saw her all in tears, asked her what was
the matter.
"I wish I could--I wish I could--" but she could not finish for
sobbing.
Her godmother, who was a fairy, said to her, "You wish you
could go to the ball; is it not so?"
"Alas, yes," said Cinderella, sighing.
"Well," said her godmother, "be but a good girl, and I will see
that you go." Then she took her into her chamber, and said to
her, "Run into the garden, and bring me a pumpkin."
Cinderella went at once to gather the finest she could get, and
brought it to her godmother, not being able to imagine how this
pumpkin could help her to go to the ball. Her godmother scooped
out all the inside of it, leaving nothing but the rind. Then she
struck it with her wand, and the pumpkin was instantly turned into
a fine gilded coach.
She then went to look into the mousetrap, where she found six
mice, all alive. She ordered Cinderella to lift the trapdoor, when,
giving each mouse, as it went out, a little tap with her wand, it was
that moment turned into a fine horse, and the six mice made a fine
set of six horses of a beautiful mouse-colored, dapple gray.
Being at a loss for a coachman, Cinderella said, "I will go and
see if there is not a rat in the rat-trap--we may make a coachman
of him."
"You are right," replied her godmother; "go and look."
Cinderella brought the rat-trap to her, and in it there were three
huge rats. The fairy chose the one which had the largest beard,
and, having touched him with her wand, he was turned into a fat
coachman with the finest mustache and whiskers ever seen.
After that, she said to her:
"Go into the garden, and you will find six lizards behind the
watering pot; bring them to me."
She had no sooner done so than her godmother turned them into
six footmen, who skipped up immediately behind the coach, with
their liveries all trimmed with gold and silver, and they held on
as if they had done nothing else their whole lives.
The fairy then said to Cinderella, "Well, you see here a carriage fit
to go to the ball in; are you not pleased with it?"
"Oh, yes!" she cried; "but must I go as I am in these rags?"
Her godmother simply touched her with her wand, and, at the
same moment, her clothes were turned into cloth of gold and
silver, all decked with jewels. This done, she gave her a pair of
the prettiest glass slippers in the whole world. Being thus attired,
she got into the carriage, her godmother commanding her, above all
things, not to stay till after midnight, and telling her, at the same
time, that if she stayed one moment longer, the coach would be a
pumpkin again, her horses mice, her coachman a rat, her footmen
lizards, and her clothes would become just as they were before.
She promised her godmother she would not fail to leave the ball
before midnight. She drove away, scarce able to contain herself
for joy. The King's son, who was told that a great princess, whom
nobody knew, was come, ran out to receive her. He gave her his
hand as she alighted from the coach, and led her into the hall where
the company were assembled. There was at once a profound silence;
every one left off dancing, and the violins ceased to play, so attracted
was every one by the singular beauties of the unknown newcomer.
Nothing was then heard but a confused sound of voices saying:
"Ha! how beautiful she is! Ha! how beautiful she is!"
The King himself, old as he was, could not keep his eyes off her,
and he told the Queen under his breath that it was a long time since
he had seen so beautiful and lovely a creature.
All the ladies were busy studying her clothes and head-dress, so
that they might have theirs made next day after the same pattern,
provided they could meet with such fine materials and able hands to
make them.
The King's son conducted her to the seat of honor, and afterwards
took her out to dance with him. She danced so very gracefully that
they all admired her more and more. A fine collation was served,
but the young Prince ate not a morsel, so intently was he occupied
with her.
She went and sat down beside her sisters, showing them a thousand
civilities, and giving them among other things part of the oranges
and citrons with which the Prince had regaled her. This very
much surprised them, for they had not been presented to her.
Cinderella heard the clock strike a quarter to twelve. She at
once made her adieus to the company and hastened away as fast as
she could.
As soon as she got home, she ran to find her godmother, and
after having thanked her, she said she much wished she might go
to the ball the next day, because the King's son had asked her to do
so. As she was eagerly telling her godmother all that happened
at the ball, her two sisters knocked at the door; Cinderella opened
it. "How long you have stayed!" said she, yawning, rubbing her
eyes, and stretching herself as if she had been just awakened. She
had not, however, had any desire to sleep since they went from
home.
"If you had been at the ball," said one of her sisters, "you
would not have been tired with it. There came thither the finest
princess, the most beautiful ever was seen with mortal eyes. She
showed us a thousand civilities, and gave us oranges and citrons."
Cinderella did not show any pleasure at this. Indeed, she asked
them the name of the princess; but they told her they did not know
it, and that the King's son was very much concerned, and would
give all the world to know who she was. At this Cinderella, smiling,
replied:
"Was she then so very beautiful? How fortunate you have been!
Could I not see her? Ah! dear Miss Charlotte, do lend me your
yellow suit of clothes which you wear every day."
"Ay, to be sure!" cried Miss Charlotte; "lend my clothes to
such a dirty Cinderwench as thou art! I should be out of my
mind to do so."
Cinderella, indeed, expected such an answer and was very glad
of the refusal; for she would have been sadly troubled if her sister
had lent her what she jestingly asked for. The next day the two
sisters went to the ball, and so did Cinderella, but dressed more
magnificently than before. The King's son was always by her
side, and his pretty speeches to her never ceased. These by no
means annoyed the young lady. Indeed, she quite forgot her godmother's
orders to her, so that she heard the clock begin to strike
twelve when she thought it could not be more than eleven. She
then rose up and fled, as nimble as a deer. The Prince followed, but
could not overtake her. She left behind one of her glass slippers,
which the Prince took up most carefully. She got home, but quite
out of breath, without her carriage, and in her old clothes, having
nothing left her of all her finery but one of the little slippers, fellow
to the one she had dropped. The guards at the palace gate were
asked if they had not seen a princess go out, and they replied they
had seen nobody go out but a young girl, very meanly dressed, and
who had more the air of a poor country girl than of a young lady.
When the two sisters returned from the ball, Cinderella asked them
if they had a pleasant time, and if the fine lady had been there.
They told her, yes; but that she hurried away the moment it struck
twelve, and with so much haste that she dropped one of her little
glass slippers, the prettiest in the world, which the King's son had
taken up. They said, further, that he had done nothing but look
at her all the time, and that most certainly he was very much in
love with the beautiful owner of the glass slipper.
What they said was true; for a few days after the King's son
caused it to be proclaimed, by sound of trumpet, that he would
marry her whose foot this slipper would fit exactly. They began
to try it on the princesses, then on the duchesses, and then on all the
ladies of the Court; but in vain. It was brought to the two sisters,
who did all they possibly could to thrust a foot into the slipper, but
they could not succeed. Cinderella, who saw this, and knew her
slipper, said to them, laughing:
"Let me see if it will not fit me."
Her sisters burst out a-laughing, and began to banter her. The
gentleman who was sent to try the slipper looked earnestly at
Cinderella, and, finding her very handsome, said it was but just
that she should try, and that he had orders to let every lady try it
on.
He obliged Cinderella to sit down, and, putting the slipper to her
little foot, he found it went on very easily, and fitted her as if it had
been made of wax. The astonishment of her two sisters was great,
but it was still greater when Cinderella pulled out of her pocket the
other slipper and put it on her foot. Thereupon, in came her godmother,
who, having touched Cinderella's clothes with her wand,
made them more magnificent than those she had worn before.
And now her two sisters found her to be that beautiful lady they
had seen at the ball. They threw themselves at her feet to beg
pardon for all their ill treatment of her. Cinderella took them up,
and, as she embraced them, said that she forgave them with all her
heart, and begged them to love her always.
She was conducted to the young Prince, dressed as she was. He
thought her more charming than ever, and, a few days after, married
her. Cinderella, who was as good as she was beautiful, gave her two
sisters a home in the palace, and that very same day married them to
two great lords of the Court.
THE HISTORY OF DICK WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT
Old Chapbook
In the reign of the famous King Edward the Third, there was
a little boy called Dick Whittington, whose father and mother died
when he was very young, so that he remembered nothing at all about
them, and was left a dirty little fellow running about a country village.
As poor Dick was not old enough to work, he was in a sorry plight. He
got but little for his dinner, and sometimes nothing at all for his
breakfast, for the people who lived in the village were very poor
themselves, and could spare him little more than the parings of potatoes,
and now and then a hard crust.
For all this, Dick Whittington was a very sharp boy, and was always
listening to what every one talked about.
On Sundays he never failed to get near the farmers, as they sat talking
on the tombstones in the churchyard before the parson was come; and
once a week you might be sure to see little Dick leaning against the
signpost of the village alehouse, where people stopped to drink as they
came from the next market town; and whenever the barber's shop door was
open Dick listened to all the news he told his customers.
In this manner Dick heard of the great city called London; how
the people who lived there were all fine gentlemen and ladies;
that there were singing and music in it all day long; and that the
streets were paved all over with gold.
One day a wagoner, with a large wagon and eight horses, all with
bells at their heads, drove through the village while Dick was
lounging near his favorite signpost. The thought immediately
struck him that it must be going to the fine town of London; and
taking courage he asked the wagoner to let him walk with him by
the side of the wagon. The man, hearing from poor Dick that he
had no parents, and seeing by his ragged condition that he could
not be worse off, told him he might go if he would; so they set off
together.
Dick got safe to London; and so eager was he to see the fine streets
paved all over with gold that he ran as fast as his legs would carry
him through several streets, expecting every moment to come to
those that were all paved with gold, for Dick had three times seen
a guinea in his own village, and observed what a great deal of money
it brought in change; so he imagined he had only to take up some
little bits of the pavement to have as much money as he desired.
Poor Dick ran till he was tired, and at last, finding it grow dark,
and that whichever way he turned he saw nothing but dirt instead
of gold, he sat down in a dark corner and cried himself asleep.
Little Dick remained all night in the streets; and next morning,
finding himself very hungry, he got up and walked about, asking
those he met to give him a halfpenny to keep him from starving; but
nobody stayed to answer him, and only two or three gave him anything,
so that the poor boy was soon in the most miserable condition.
Being almost starved to death, he laid himself down at the door of
one Mr. Fitzwarren, a great, rich merchant. Here he was soon
perceived by the cook-maid, who was an ill-tempered creature, and
happened just then to be very busy dressing dinner for her master
and mistress; so, seeing poor Dick, she called out, "What business
have you there, you lazy rogue? There is nothing else but beggars;
if you do not take yourself away, we will see how you will
like a sousing of some dishwater I have here that is hot enough to
make you caper."
Just at this time Mr. Fitzwarren himself came home from the city
to dinner, and, seeing a dirty, ragged boy lying at the door, said to
him, "Why do you lie there, my lad? You seem old enough to
work. I fear you must be somewhat idle." '"No, indeed, sir," says
Whittington, "that is not true, for I would work with all my heart,
but I know nobody, and I believe I am very sick for want of food."
"Poor fellow!" answered Mr. Fitzwarren.
Dick now tried to rise, but was obliged to lie down again, being
too weak to stand, for he had not eaten anything for three days,
and was no longer able to run about and beg a halfpenny of people
in the street; so the kind merchant ordered that he should be taken
into his house, and have a good dinner immediately, and that
he should be kept to do what dirty work he was able for the
cook.
Little Dick would have lived very happily in this worthy family
had it not been for the crabbed cook, who was finding fault and
scolding him from morning till night, and was withal so fond of
roasting and basting that, when the spit was out of her hands, she
would be at basting poor Dick's head and shoulders with a broom,
or anything else that happened to fall in her way, till at last her
ill usage of him was told to Miss Alice, Mr. Fitzwarren's daughter,
who asked the ill-tempered creature if she was not ashamed to use
a little friendless boy so cruelly; and added she would certainly be
turned away if she did not treat him with more kindness.
But though the cook was so ill-tempered, Mr. Fitzwarren's footman
was quite the contrary. He had lived in the family many years,
was rather elderly, and had once a little boy of his own, who died
when about the age of Whittington, so that he could not but feel
compassion for the poor boy.
As the footman was very fond of reading, he used generally in
the evening to entertain his fellow servants, when they had done
their work, with some amusing book. The pleasure our little hero
took in hearing him made him very much desire to learn to read,
too; so the next time the good-natured footman gave him a halfpenny,
he bought a hornbook with it; and, with a little of his help,
Dick soon learned his letters, and afterwards to read.
About this time Miss Alice was going out one morning for a walk,
and the footman happening to be out of the way, little Dick, who
had received from Mr. Fitzwarren a neat suit of clothes to go to
church on Sundays, was ordered to put them on, and walk behind
her. As they walked along, Miss Alice, seeing a poor woman with
one child in her arms and another at her back, pulled out her
purse, and gave her some money; and, as she was putting it again
into her pocket, she dropped it on the ground, and walked on.
Luckily Dick, who was behind, saw what she had done, picked it up,
and immediately presented it to her.
Besides the ill-humor of the cook, which now, however, was somewhat
mended, Whittington had another hardship to get over. This
was, that his bed, which was made of flock, was placed in a garret,
where there were so many holes in the floor and walls that he never
went to bed without being awakened in his sleep by great numbers of
rats and mice, which generally ran over his face, and made such a
noise that he sometimes thought the walls were tumbling down about
him.
One day a gentleman who paid a visit to Mr. Fitzwarren happened
to have dirtied his shoes, and begged they might be cleaned.
Dick took great pains to make them shine, and the gentleman gave
him a penny. This he resolved to lay out in buying a cat, if possible;
and the next day, seeing a little girl with a cat under her
arm, he went up to her, and asked if she would let him have it for
a penny, to which the girl replied she would with all her heart,
for her mother had more cats than she could maintain, adding
that the one she had was an excellent mouser.
This cat Whittington hid in the garret, always taking care to carry
her a part of his dinner; and in a short time he had no further
disturbance from the rats and mice, but slept as sound as a top.
Soon after this the merchant, who had a ship ready to sail, richly
laden, and thinking it but just that all his servants should have some
chance for good luck as well as himself, called them into the parlor,
and asked them what commodity they chose to send.
All mentioned something they were willing to venture, but poor
Whittington, who, having no money nor goods, could send nothing
at all, for which reason he did not come in with the rest; but Miss
Alice, guessing what was the matter, ordered him to be called, and
offered to lay down some money for him from her own purse; but
this, the merchant observed, would not do, for it must be something
of his own.
Upon this, poor Dick said he had nothing but a cat, which he
bought for a penny that was given him.
"Fetch thy cat, boy," says Mr. Fitzwarren, "and let her go."
Whittington brought poor puss, and delivered her to the captain
with tears in his eyes, for he said, "He should now again be kept
awake all night by the rats and mice."
All the company laughed at the oddity of Whittington's adventure; and
Miss Alice, who felt the greatest pity for the poor boy, gave him some
halfpence to buy another cat.
This, and several other marks of kindness shown him by Miss
Alice, made the ill-tempered cook so jealous of the favors the poor
boy received that she began to use him more cruelly than ever, and
constantly made game of him for sending his cat to sea, asking him
if he thought it would sell for as much money as would buy a
halter.
At last the unhappy little fellow, being unable to bear this
treatment any longer, determined to run away from his place. He
accordingly packed up the few things that belonged to him, and set
out very early in the morning on Allhallow Day, which is the
first of November. He traveled as far as Holloway, and there sat
down on a stone, which to this day is called Whittington's Stone,
and began to consider what course he should take.
While he was thus thinking what he could do, Bow Bells, of which
there were then only six, began to ring, and it seemed to him that
their sounds addressed him in this manner--
"Turn again, Whitlington,
Lord mayor of London."
"Lord mayor of London!" says he to himself. "Why, to be
sure, I would bear anything to be lord mayor of London, and ride in
a fine coach! Well, I will go back, and think nothing of all the
cuffing and scolding of old Cicely, if I am at last to be lord mayor
of London."
So back went Dick, and got into the house, and set about his
business before Cicely came downstairs.
The ship, with the cat on board, was long beaten about at sea,
and was at last driven by contrary winds on a part of the coast of
Barbary, inhabited by Moors that were unknown to the English.
The natives in this country came in great numbers, out of curiosity,
to see the people on board, who were all of so different a color from
themselves, and treated them with great civility, and, as they became
better acquainted, showed marks of eagerness to purchase the fine
things with which the ship was laden.
The captain, seeing this, sent patterns of the choicest articles he
had to the king of the country, who was so much pleased with
them that he sent for the captain and his chief mate to the palace.
Here they were placed, as is the custom of the country, on rich
carpets flowered with gold and silver; and, the king and queen being
seated at the upper end of the room, dinner was brought in, which
consisted of the greatest rarities. No sooner, however, were all the
dishes set before the company than an amazing number of rats
and mice rushed in, and helped themselves plentifully from every
dish, scattering pieces of flesh and gravy all about the room.
The captain, extremely astonished, asked if these vermin were not
very offensive.
"Oh, yes," said they, "very offensive; and the king would give
half his treasure to be free of them, for they not only destroy his
dinner, but they disturb him even in his chamber, so that he is
obliged to be watched while he sleeps."
The captain, who was ready to jump for joy, remembering poor
Whittington's hard case, and the cat he had entrusted to his care, told
him he had a creature on board his ship that would kill them all.
The king was still more overjoyed than the captain. "Bring this
creature to me," says he; "and if she can really perform what you
say I will load your ship with wedges of gold in exchange for her."
Away flew the captain, while another dinner was providing, to
the ship, and, taking puss under his arm, returned to the palace in
time to see the table covered with rats and mice, and the second
dinner in a fair way to meet with the same fate as the first.
The cat, at sight of them, did not wait for bidding, but sprang
from the captain's arms, and in a few moments laid the greatest part
of the rats and mice dead at her feet, while the rest, in the greatest
fright imaginable, scampered away to their holes.
The king, having seen and considered of the wonderful exploits
of Mrs. Puss, and being informed she would soon have young ones,
which might in time destroy all the rats and mice in the country,
bargained with the captain for his whole ship's cargo, and afterwards
agreed to give a prodigious quantity of wedges of gold, of still
greater value, for the cat, with which, after taking leave of their
Majesties, and other great personages belonging to the court, he,
with all his ship's company, set sail, with a fair wind, and, after a
happy voyage, arrived safely in the port of London.
One morning Mr. Fitzwarren had just entered his counting-house,
and was going to seat himself at the desk, when who should arrive
but the captain and mate of the merchant ship, the _Unicorn,_ just
arrived from the coast of Barbary, and followed by several men,
bringing with them a prodigious quantity of wedges of gold that had
been paid by the king of Barbary in exchange for the merchandise,
and also in exchange for Mrs. Puss. Mr. Fitzwarren, the instant he
heard the news, ordered Whittington to be called, and, having desired
him to be seated, said, "Mr. Whittington, most heartily do I rejoice
in the news these gentlemen have brought you, for the captain has
sold your cat to the king of Barbary, and brought you in return
more riches than I possess in the whole world; and may you long
enjoy them!"
Mr. Fitzwarren then desired the men to open the immense treasure
they had brought, and added that Mr. Whittington had now nothing
to do but to put it in some place of safety.
Poor Dick could scarce contain himself for joy. He begged his
master to take what part of it he pleased, since to his kindness he
was indebted for the whole. "No, no, this wealth is all your own,
and justly so," answered Mr. Fitzwarren; "and I have no doubt you
will use it generously."
Whittington, however, was too kind-hearted to keep all himself;
and accordingly made a handsome present to the captain, the mate,
and every one of the ship's company, and afterwards to his excellent
friend the footman, and the rest of Mr. Fitzwarren's servants, not
even excepting crabbed old Cicely.
After this, Mr. Fitzwarren advised him to send for tradespeople,
and get himself dressed as became a gentleman, and made him the
offer of his house to live in till he could provide himself with a
better.
When Mr. Whittington's face was washed, his hair curled, his
hat cocked, and he was dressed in a fashionable suit of clothes, he
appeared as handsome and genteel as any young man who visited
at Mr. Fitzwarren's; so that Miss Alice, who had formerly thought
of him with compassion, now considered him as fit to be her lover;
and the more so, no doubt, because Mr. Whittington was constantly
thinking what he could do to oblige her, and making her the prettiest
presents imaginable.
Mr. Fitzwarren, perceiving their affection for each other, proposed
to unite them in marriage, to which, without difficulty, they each
consented; and accordingly a day for the wedding was soon fixed,
and they were attended to church by the lord mayor, the court of
aldermen, the sheriffs, and a great number of the wealthiest merchants
in London; and the ceremony was succeeded by a most elegant
entertainment and splendid ball.
History tells us that the said Mr. Whittington and his lady lived
in great splendor, and were very happy; that they had several children;
that he was sheriff of London in the year 1340, and several
times afterwards lord mayor; that in the last year of his mayoralty
he entertained King Henry the Fifth on his return from the battle
of Agincourt. And sometime afterwards, going with an address
from the city on one of his Majesty's victories, he received the honor
of knighthood.
Sir Richard Whittington constantly fed great numbers of the poor.
He built a church and college to it, with a yearly allowance to poor
scholars, and near it erected a hospital.
The effigy of Sir Richard Whittington was to be seen, with his cat
in his arms, carved in stone, over the archway of the late prison of
Newgate that went across Newgate Street.
THE UGLY DUCKLING
Hans Christian Andersen
It was glorious out in the country. It was summer, and the cornfields
were yellow, and the oats were green; the hay had been put
up in stacks in the green meadows, and the stork went about on his
long red legs, and chattered Egyptian, for this was the language he
had learned from his good mother. All around the fields and
meadows were great forests, and in the midst of these forests lay
deep lakes. Yes, it was really glorious out in the country. In the
midst of the sunshine there lay an old farm, surrounded by deep
canals, and from the wall down to the water grew great burdocks,
so high that the children could stand upright under the loftiest of
them. It was just as wild there as in the deepest wood. Here sat
a Duck upon her nest, for she had to hatch her young ones; but she
was almost tired out before the little ones came; and then she so
seldom had visitors. The other Ducks liked better to swim about in
the canals than to run up to sit down under a burdock and cackle
with her.
At last one eggshell after another burst open. "Piep! piep!" it
cried, and in all the eggs there were little creatures that stuck out
their heads.
"Rap! rap!" they said; and they all came rapping out as fast as
they could, looking all round them under the green leaves; and the
mother let them look as much as they chose, for green is good for
the eyes. "How wide the world is!" said the young ones, for they
certainly had much more room now than when they were in the eggs.
"Do you think this is all the world!" asked the mother. "That
extends far across the other side of the garden, quite into the parson's
field, but I have never been there yet. I hope you are all together,"
she continued, and stood up." No, I have not all. The largest egg
still lies there. How long is that to last? I am really tired of it."
And she sat down again.
"Well, how goes it?" asked an old Duck who had come to pay
her a visit.
"It lasts a long time with that one egg," said the Duck who sat
there. "It will not burst. Now, only look at the others; are they
not the prettiest ducks one could possibly see? They are all like
their father; the bad fellow never comes to see me."
"Let me see the egg which will not burst," said the old visitor.
"Believe me, it is a turkey's egg. I was once cheated in that way,
and had much anxiety and trouble with the young ones, for they
are afraid of the water. I could not get them to venture in. I
quacked and clucked, but it was of no use. Let me see the egg.
Yes, that's a turkey's egg. Let it lie there, and you teach the other
children to swim."
"I think I will sit on it a little longer," said the Duck. "I've sat
so long now that I can sit a few days more."
"Just as you please," said the old Duck; and she went away.
At last the great egg burst. "Piep! piep!" said the little one,
and crept forth. It was very large and very ugly. The Duck
looked at it.
"It's a very large duckling," said she; "none of the others look
like that; can it really be a turkey chick? Now we shall soon find
out. It must go into the water, even if I have to thrust it in myself."
The next day the weather was splendidly bright, and the sun
shone on all the green trees. The Mother Duck went down to the
water with all her little ones. Splash! she jumped into the water.
"Quack! quack!" she said, and then one duckling after another
plunged in. The water closed over their heads, but they came up
in an instant and swam capitally; their legs went of themselves, and
there they were, all in the water. The ugly gray Duckling swam
with them.
"No, it's not a turkey," said she; "look how well it can use its
legs, and how upright it holds itself. It is my own child! On the
whole it's quite pretty, if one looks at it rightly. Quack! quack!
come with me, and I'll lead you out into the great world, and
present you in the poultry yard; but keep close to me, so that no
one may tread on you; and take care of the cats!"
And so they came into the poultry yard. There was a terrible
riot going on there, for two families were quarreling about an eel's
head, and the cat got it after all.
"See, that's how it goes in the world!" said the Mother Duck;
and she whetted her beak, for she, too, wanted the eel's head. "Only
use your legs," she said. "See that you bustle about, and bow your
heads before the old Duck yonder. She's the grandest of all here;
she's of Spanish blood--that's why she's so fat; and do you see,
she has a red rag round her leg; that's something particularly
fine, and the greatest distinction a duck can enjoy; it signifies that
one does not want to lose her, and that she's to be recognized by
man and beast. Shake yourselves--don't turn in your toes: a well-brought-up
Duck turns its toes quite out, just like father and mother,
so! Now bend your necks and say 'Rap!'"
And they did so; but the other Ducks round about looked at them
and said quite boldly:
"Look there! now we're to have these hanging on, as if there were
not enough of us already! And--fie--! how that Duckling yonder
looks; we won't stand that!" And one Duck flew up immediately,
and bit it in the neck.
"Let it alone," said the mother; "it does no harm to any one."
"Yes, but it's too large and peculiar," said the Duck who had
bitten it; "and therefore it must be buffeted."
"Those are pretty children that the mother has there," said the
old Duck with the rag round her leg. "They're all pretty but that
one; that was a failure. I wish she could alter it."
"That cannot be done, my Lady," replied the Mother Duck. "It
is not pretty, but it has a really good disposition, and swims as well
as any other; I may even say it swims better. I think it will grow
up pretty, and become smaller in time; it has lain too long in the
egg, and therefore is not properly shaped." And then she pinched
it in the neck and smoothed its feathers. "Moreover, it is a drake,"
she said, "and therefore it is not of so much consequence. I think
he will be very strong; he makes his way already."
"The other ducklings are graceful enough," said the old Duck.
"Make yourself at home; and if you find an eel's head, you may
bring it me."
And now they were at home. But the poor Duckling which had
crept last out of the egg, and looked so ugly, was bitten and pushed
and jeered, as much by the Ducks as by the chickens.
"It is too big!" they all said. And the turkey-cock, who had
been born with spurs and therefore thought himself an emperor,
blew himself up like a ship in full sail and bore straight down upon
it; then he gobbled and grew quite red in the face. The poor
Duckling did not know where it should stand or walk; it was quite
melancholy, because it looked ugly and was scoffed at by the whole
yard.
So it went on the first day, and afterward it became worse and
worse. The poor Duckling was hunted about by every one; even
its brothers and sisters were quite angry with it, and said, "If the
cat would only catch you, you ugly creature!" And the mother
said, "If you were only far away!" And the Ducks bit it and the
chickens beat it, and the girl who had to feed the poultry kicked
at it with her foot.
Then it ran and flew over the fence, and the little birds in the
bushes flew up in fear.
"That is because I am so ugly!" thought the Duckling; and it
shut its eyes, but flew no further; thus it came out into the great
moor, where the Wild Ducks lived. Here it lay the whole night
long; and it was weary and downcast.
Toward morning the Wild Ducks flew up and looked at their new
companion.
"What sort of a one are you?" they asked; and the Duckling
turned in every direction, and bowed as well as it could. "You are
remarkably ugly!" said the Wild Ducks. "But that is very indifferent
to us, so long as you do not marry into our family."
Poor thing! It certainly did not think of marrying, and only
hoped to obtain leave to lie among the reeds and drink some of the
swamp water.
Thus it lay two whole days; then came thither two Wild Geese,
or, properly speaking, two wild ganders. It was not long since each
had crept out of an egg, and that's why they were so saucy.
"Listen, comrade," said one of them. "You're so ugly that I
like you. Will you go with us and become a bird of passage?
Near here, in another moor, there are a few sweet lovely wild geese,
all unmarried and all able to say 'Rap!' You've a chance of
making your fortune, ugly as you are!"
"Piff! paff!" resounded through the air; and the two ganders
fell down dead in the swamp, and the water became blood-red.
"Piff! paff!" it sounded again, and the whole flock of wild geese
rose up from the reeds. And then there was another report. A
great hunt was going on. The hunters were lying in wait all round
the moor and some were even sitting up in the branches of the
trees, which spread far over the reeds. The blue smoke rose up like
clouds among the dark trees, and was wafted far away across the
water; and the hunting dogs came--splash, splash!--into the
swamp, and the rushes and reeds bent down on every side. That
was a fright for the poor Duckling! It turned its head and put it
under its wing; but at that moment a frightful great dog stood close
by the Duckling. His tongue hung far out of his mouth and his
eyes gleamed horrible and ugly; he thrust out his nose close against
the Duckling, showed his sharp teeth, and--splash, splash!--on
he went without seizing it.
"Oh, heaven be thanked!" sighed the Duckling. "I am so ugly
that even the dog does not like to bite me!"
And so it lay quiet, while the shots rattled through the reeds and
gun after gun was fired. At last, late in the day, silence; but the
poor Duckling did not dare to rise up; it waited several hours before
it looked round, and then hastened away out of the moor as fast as it
could. It ran on over field and meadow; there was such a storm
raging that it was difficult to get from one place to another.
Toward evening the Duck came to a little miserable peasant's hut.
This hut was so dilapidated that it did not know on which side it
should fall; and that's why it remained standing. The storm whistled
round the Duckling in such a way that the poor creature was
obliged to sit down, to stand against it; and the tempest grew worse
and worse. Then the Duckling noticed that one of the hinges of the
door had given way, and the door hung so slanting that the Duckling
could slip through the crack into the room; and it did so.
Here lived an old woman, with her Tom Cat and her Hen. And the
Tom Cat, whom she called Sonnie, could arch his back and purr, he
could even give out sparks; but for that one had to stroke his fur
the wrong way. The Hen had quite little legs, and therefore she
was called Chickabiddy-short-shanks; she laid good eggs, and the
woman loved her as her own child.
In the morning the strange Duckling was at once noticed, and
the Tom Cat began to purr and the Hen to cluck.
"What's this?" said the woman, and looked all round; but she
could not see well, and therefore she thought the Duckling was a
fat duck that had strayed. "This is a rare prize," she said. "Now
I shall have duck's eggs. I hope it is not a drake. We must try
that."
And so the Duckling was admitted on trial for three weeks; but
no eggs came. And the Tom Cat was master of the house, and the
Hen was the lady, and they always said "We and the world!" for
they thought they were half the world, and by far the better half.
The Duckling thought one might have a different opinion, but the
Hen would not allow it.
"Can you lay eggs?" she asked.
"No."
"Then you'll have the goodness to hold your tongue."
And the Tom Cat said, "Can you curve your back, and purr, and
give out sparks?
"No."
"Then you cannot have any opinion of your own when sensible
people are speaking."
And the Duckling sat in a corner and was melancholy; then the
fresh air and the sunshine streamed in; and it was seized with such
a strange longing to swim on the water that it could not help telling
the Hen of it.
"What are you thinking of?" cried the Hen. "You have nothing
to do, that's why you have these fancies. Purr or lay eggs, and
they will pass over."
"But it is so charming to swim on the water!" said the Duckling,
"so refreshing to let it close above one's head, and to dive down
to the bottom."
"Yes, that must be a mighty pleasure truly," quoth the Hen. "I
fancy you must have gone crazy. Ask the Cat about it--he's the
cleverest animal I know--ask him if he likes to swim on the water,
or to dive down: I won't speak about myself. Ask our mistress,
the old woman; no one in the world's cleverer than she. Do you
think she has any desire to swim, and to let the water close above
her head?"
"You don't understand me," said the Duckling.
"We don't understand you? Then pray who is to understand
you? You surely don't pretend to be cleverer than the Tom Cat and
the old woman--I won't say anything of myself. Don't be conceited,
child, and be grateful for all the kindness you have received.
Did you not get into a warm room, and have you not fallen into
company from which you may learn something? But you are a
chatterer, and it is not pleasant to associate with you. You may
believe me, I speak for your good. I tell you disagreeable things,
and by that one may always know one's friends. Only take care
that you learn to lay eggs, or to purr and give out sparks!"
"I think I will go out into the wide world," said the Duckling.
"Yes, do go," replied the Hen.
And the Duckling went away. It swam on the water, and dived,
but it was slighted by every creature because of its ugliness.
Now came the autumn. The leaves in the forest turned yellow
and brown; the wind caught them so that they danced about, and up
in the air it was very cold. The clouds hung low, heavy with hail
and snowflakes, and on the fence stood the raven, crying, "Croak!
croak!" for mere cold; yes, it was enough to make one feel cold
to think of this. The poor little Duckling certainly had not a good
time. One evening--the sun was just setting in his beauty--there
came a whole flock of great handsome birds out of the bushes; they
were dazzlingly white, with long, flexible necks; they were swans.
They uttered a very peculiar cry, spread forth their glorious great
wings, and flew away from that cold region to warmer lands, to fair
open lakes. They mounted so high, so high! and the ugly little
Duckling felt quite strangely as it watched them. It turned round
and round in the water like a wheel, stretched out its neck toward
them, and uttered such a strange loud cry as frightened itself. Oh!
it could not forget those beautiful, happy birds; and as soon as it
could see them no longer, it dived down to the very bottom, and when
it came up again, it was quite beside itself. It knew not the name of
those birds, and knew not whither they were flying; but it loved them
more than it had ever loved any one. It was not at all envious of
them. How could it think of wishing to possess such loveliness as
they had? It would have been glad if only the ducks would have
endured its company--the poor ugly creature!
And the winter grew cold, very cold! The Duckling was forced
to swim about in the water, to prevent the surface from freezing
entirely; but every night the hole in which it swam about became
smaller and smaller. It froze so hard that the icy covering crackled
again; and the Duckling was obliged to use its legs continually to
prevent the hole from freezing up. At last it became exhausted,
and lay quite still, and thus froze fast into the ice.
Early in the morning a peasant came by, and when he saw what
had happened, he took his wooden shoe, broke the ice crust to pieces,
and carried the Duckling home to his wife. Then it came to itself
again. The children wanted to play with it; but the Duckling
thought they would do it an injury, and in its terror fluttered up
into the milk pan, so that the milk spurted down into the room. The
woman clasped her hands, at which the Duckling flew down into the
butter tub, and then into the meal barrel and out again. How it
looked then! The woman screamed, and struck at it with the fire
tongs; the children tumbled over one another, in their efforts to
catch the Duckling; and they laughed and screamed finely! Happily
the door stood open, and the poor creature was able to slip out
between the shrubs into the newly fallen snow; and there it lay quite
exhausted.
But it would be too melancholy if I were to tell all the misery
and care which the Duckling had to endure in the hard winter. It
lay out on the moor among the reeds, when the sun began to shine
again and the larks to sing; it was a beautiful spring.
Then all at once the Duckling could flap its wings; they beat the
air more strongly than before, and bore it strongly away; and before
it well knew how all this had happened, it found itself in a great
garden, where the elder trees smelt sweet, and bent their long green
branches down to the canal that wound through the region. Oh, here
it was so beautiful, such a gladness of spring! and from the thicket
came three glorious white swans; they rustled their wings, and swam
lightly on the water. The Duckling knew the splendid creatures,
and felt oppressed by a peculiar sadness.
"I will fly away to them, to the royal birds! and they will kill
me, because I, that am so ugly, dare to approach them. But it is of
no consequence! Better to be killed by _them_ than to be pursued
by ducks, and beaten by fowls, and pushed about by the girl who takes
care of the poultry yard, and to suffer hunger in winter!" And it
flew out into the water, and swam toward the beautiful swans: these
looked at it, and came sailing down upon it with outspread wings.
"Kill me!" said the poor creature, and bent its head down upon
the water, expecting nothing but death. But what was this that it
saw in the clear water? It beheld its own image--and, lo! it was
no longer a clumsy dark-gray bird, ugly and hateful to look at, but
--a swan.
It matters nothing if one was born in a duck yard, if one has only
lain in a swan's egg.
It felt quite glad at all the need and misfortune it had suffered,
now it realized its happiness in all the splendor that surrounded it.
And the great swans swam round it, and stroked it with their beaks.
Into the garden came little children, who threw bread and corn
into the water; the youngest cried, "There is a new one!" and the
other children shouted joyously, "Yes, a new one has arrived!"
And they clapped their hands and danced about, and ran to their
father and mother; and bread and cake were thrown into the water;
and they all said, "The new one is the most beautiful of all! so
young and handsome!" and the old swans bowed their heads before
him.
Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wing, for
he did not know what to do; he was so happy, and yet not at all
proud. He thought how he had been persecuted and despised; and
now he heard them saying that he was the most beautiful of all the
birds. Even the elder tree bent its branches straight down into the
water before him, and the sun shone warm and mild. Then his
wings rustled, he lifted his slender neck, and cried rejoicingly from
the depths of his heart:
"I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was still the
Ugly Duckling!"
THE FLAX
Hans Christian Andersen
The Flax was in full bloom. Its pretty blue blossoms were as soft
as the wings of a moth, and still more delicate. And the sun shone
on the flax field, and the rain watered it; and that was as good for
the flax flowers as it is for little children to be washed and kissed
by their mother,--they look so much fresher and prettier afterwards.
Thus it was with the Flax flowers.
"People say I am so fine and flourishing," observed the Flax;
"and that I am growing so charmingly tall, a splendid piece of
linen will be got from me. Oh, how happy I am! how can any one
be happier? Everything around me is so pleasant, and I shall be
of use for something or other. How the sun cheers one up, and how
fresh and sweet the rain tastes! I am incomparably happy; I am
the happiest vegetable in the world!"
"Ah, ah, ah!" jeered the Stakes in the hedge; "you don't know
the world, not you, but we know it, there are knots in us!" and then
they cracked so dolefully:
"Snip, snap, snurre,
Bassilurre,
And so the song is en-ded-ded-ded."
"No, it is not ended," replied the Flax; "the sun shines every
morning, the rain does me so much good, I can see myself grow;
I can feel that I am in blossom--who so happy as I?"
However, one day people came, took hold of the Flax, and pulled
it up, root and all; that was exceedingly uncomfortable; and then it
was thrown into water, as though intended to be drowned, and, after
that, put before the fire, as though to be roasted. That was most
cruel!
"One cannot always have what one wishes!" sighed the Flax;
"it is well to suffer sometimes, it gives one experience."
But matters seemed to get worse and worse. The Flax was bruised
and broken, hacked and hackled, and at last put on the wheel--
snurre rur! snurre rur!--it was not possible to keep one's thoughts
collected in such a situation as this.
"I have been exceedingly fortunate," thought the Flax, amid all
these tortures. "One ought to be thankful for the happiness one
has enjoyed in times past. Thankful, thankful, oh, yes!" and still
the Flax said the same when taken to the loom. And here it was
made into a large, handsome piece of linen; all the Flax of that
one field was made into a single piece.
"Well, but this is charming! Never should I have expected it.
What unexampled good fortune I have carried through the world
with me! What arrant nonsense the Stakes in the hedge used to
talk with their
"'Snip, snap, snurre,
Bassilurre.'
The song is not ended at all! Life is but just beginning. It is a
very pleasant thing, too, is life; to be sure I have suffered, but that is
past now, and I have become something through suffering. I am
so strong, and yet so soft! so white and so long! this is far better
than being a vegetable; even during blossom-time nobody attends
to one, and one only gets water when it is raining. Now, I am well
taken care of--the girl turns me over every morning, and I have a
shower bath from the water tub every evening; nay, the parson's wife
herself came and looked at me, and said I was the finest piece of
linen in the parish. No one can possibly be happier than I am!"
The Linen was taken into the house, and cut up with scissors. Oh,
how it was cut and clipped, how it was pierced and stuck through
with needles! that was certainly no pleasure at all. It was at last
made up into twelve articles of attire, such articles as are not often
mentioned, but which people can hardly do without; there were just
twelve of them.
"So this, then, was my destiny. Well, it is very delightful; now
I shall be of use in the world, and there is really no pleasure like
that of being useful. We are now twelve pieces, but we are still one
and the same--we are a dozen! Certainly, this is being extremely
fortunate!"
Years passed away,--at last the Linen could endure no longer.
"All things must pass away some time or other," remarked each
piece. "I should like very much to last a little while longer, but
one ought not to wish for impossibilities." And so the Linen was
rent into shreds and remnants numberless; they believed all was over
with them, for they were hacked, and mashed, and boiled, and they
knew not what else--and thus they became beautiful, fine, white
paper!
"Now, upon my word, this is a surprise! And a most delightful
surprise too!" declared the Paper. "Why, now I am finer than
ever, and I shall be written upon! I wonder what will be written
upon me. Was there ever such famous good fortune as mine!"
And the Paper was written upon; the most charming stories in the
world were written on it, and they were read aloud! and people declared
that these stories were very beautiful and very instructive;
that to read them would make mankind both wiser and better.
Truly, a great blessing was given to the world in the words written
upon that same Paper.
"Certainly, this is more than I could ever have dreamt of, when
I was a wee little blue flower of the field! How could I then have
looked forward to becoming a messenger destined to bring knowledge
and pleasure among men? I can hardly understand it even
now. Yet, so it is, actually. And, for my own part, I have never
done anything, beyond the little that in me lay, to strive to exist,
and yet I am carried on from one state of honor and happiness to
another; and every time that I think within myself, 'Now, surely, the
song is en-ded-ded-ded,' I am converted into something new, something
far higher and better. Now, I suppose I shall be sent on my
travels, shall be sent round the wide world, so that all men may read
me. I should think that would be the wisest plan. Formerly I had
blue blossoms, now for every single blossom I have some beautiful
thought, or pleasant fancy--who so happy as I?"
But the Paper was not sent on its travels, it went to the printer's
instead, and there all that was written upon it was printed in a
book; nay, in many hundred books: and in this way an infinitely
greater number of people received pleasure and profit therefrom
than if the written Paper itself had been sent round the world, and
perhaps got torn and worn to pieces before it had gone halfway.
"Yes, to be sure, this is much more sensible," thought the Paper.
"It had never occurred to me, though. I am to stay at home and
be held in as great honor as if I were an old grandfather. The
book was written on me first, the ink flowed in upon me from the pen
and formed the words. I shall stay at home, while the books go
about the world, to and fro--that is much better. How glad I am!
how fortunate I am!"
So the Paper was rolled up and laid on one side. "It is good to
repose after labor," said the Paper. "It is quite right to collect
oneself, and quietly think over all that dwelleth within one. Now,
first, do I rightly know myself. And to know oneself, I have heard,
is the best knowledge, the truest progress. And come what will,
this I am sure of, all will end in progress--always is there
progress!"
One day the roll of Paper was thrown upon the stove to be burnt
--it must not be sold to the grocer to wrap round pounds of butter
and sugar. And all the children in the house flocked round; they
wanted to see the blaze, they wanted to count the multitude of tiny
red sparks which seem to dart to and fro among the ashes, dying out,
one after another, so quickly--they call them "the children going
out of school," and the last spark of all is the schoolmaster; they
often fancy he is gone out, but another and another spark flies up
unexpectedly, and the schoolmaster always tarries a little behind the
rest.
And now all the Paper lay heaped up on the stove. "Ugh!" it
cried, and all at once it burst into a flame. So high did it rise into
the air, never had the Flax been able to rear its tiny blue blossoms
so high, and it shone as never the white Linen had shone; all the letters
written on it became fiery red in an instant, and all the words
and thoughts of the writer were surrounded with a glory.
"Now, then, I go straight up into the sun!" said something within
the flames. It was as though a thousand voices at once had spoken
thus; and the Flame burst through the chimney, and rose high above
it; and brighter than the Flame, yet invisible to mortal eyes, hovered
little tiny beings, as many as there had been blossoms on the
Flax. They were lighter and of more subtle essence than even the
Flame that bore them; and when that Flame had quite died away,
and nothing remained of the Paper but the black ashes, they once
again danced over them, and wherever their feet touched the ashes,
their footprints, the fiery red sparks, were seen. Thus "the children
went out of school, and the schoolmaster came last"; it was a pleasure
to see the pretty sight, and the children of the house stood looking
at the black ashes and singing---
"Snip, snap, snurre,
Bassilurre,
And now the song is en-ded-ded-ded."
But the tiny invisible beings replied every one, "The song is never
ended; that is the best of it! We know that, and therefore none are
so happy as we are!"
However, the children could neither hear nor understand the reply;
nor would it be well that they should, for children must not
know everything.
BLUE BEARD
Charles Perrault
Once upon a time there was a man who had fine houses, both in
town and country, a deal of silver and gold plate, carved furniture,
and coaches gilded all over. But unhappily this man had a blue
beard, which made him so ugly and so terrible that all the women
and girls ran away from him.
One of his neighbors, a lady of quality, had two daughters who
were perfect beauties. He asked for one of them in marriage, leaving
to her the choice of which she would bestow on him. They
would neither of them have him, and they sent him backward and
forward from one to the other, neither being able to make up her
mind to marry a man who had a blue beard. Another thing which
made them averse to him was that he had already married several
wives, and nobody knew what had become of them.
Blue Beard, to become better acquainted, took them, with their
mother and three or four of their best friends, with some young
people of the neighborhood, to one of his country seats, where they
stayed a whole week.
There was nothing going on but pleasure parties, hunting, fishing,
dancing, mirth, and feasting. Nobody went to bed, but all passed
the night in playing pranks on each other. In short, everything
succeeded so well that the youngest daughter began to think that the
beard of the master of the house was not so very blue, and that he
was a very civil gentleman. So as soon as they returned home, the
marriage was concluded.
About a month afterward Blue Beard told his wife that he was
obliged to take a country journey for six weeks at least, upon business
of great importance. He desired her to amuse herself well in
his absence, to send for her friends, to take them into the country,
if she pleased, and to live well wherever she was.
"Here," said he, "are the keys of the two great warehouses
wherein I have my best furniture: these are of the room where I
keep my silver and gold plate, which is not in everyday use; these
open my safes, which hold my money, both gold and silver; these
my caskets of jewels; and this is the master-key to all my apartments.
But as for this little key, it is the key of the closet at the end
of the great gallery on the ground floor. Open them all; go everywhere;
but as for that little closet, I forbid you to enter it, and I
promise you surely that, if you open it, there's nothing that you may
not expect from my anger."
She promised to obey exactly all his orders; and he, after having
embraced her, got into his coach and proceeded on his journey.
Her neighbors and good friends did not stay to be sent for by the
new-married lady, so great was their impatience to see all the riches
of her house, not daring to come while her husband was there, because
of his blue beard, which frightened them. They at once ran
through all the rooms, closets, and wardrobes, which were so fine
and rich, and each seemed to surpass all others. They went up
into the warehouses, where was the best and richest furniture; and
they could not sufficiently admire the number and beauty of the
tapestry, beds, couches, cabinets, stands, tables, and looking-glasses,
in which you might see yourself from head to foot. Some of them
were framed with glass, others with silver, plain and gilded, the
most beautiful and the most magnificent ever seen.
They ceased not to praise and envy the happiness of their friend,
who, in the meantime, was not at all amused by looking upon all
these rich things, because of her impatience to go and open the
closet on the ground floor. Her curiosity was so great that, without
considering how uncivil it was to leave her guests, she went down
a little back staircase, with such excessive haste that twice or thrice
she came near breaking her neck. Having reached the closet door,
she stood still for some time, thinking of her husband's orders, and
considering that unhappiness might attend her if she was disobedient;
but the temptation was so strong she could not overcome it. She
then took the little key, and opened the door, trembling. At first she
could not see anything plainly, because the windows were shut.
After some moments she began to perceive that several dead women
were scattered about the floor. (These were all the wives whom
Blue Beard had married and murdered, one after the other, because
they did not obey his orders about the closet on the ground floor.)
She thought she surely would die for fear, and the key, which she
pulled out of the lock, fell out of her hand.
After having somewhat recovered from the shock, she picked
up the key, locked the door, and went upstairs into her chamber
to compose herself; but she could not rest, so much was she
frightened.
Having observed that the key of the closet was stained, she tried
two or three times to wipe off the stain, but the stain would not
come out. In vain did she wash it, and even rub it with soap and
sand. The stain still remained, for the key was a magic key, and
she could never make it quite clean; when the stain was gone off
from one side, it came again on the other.
Blue Beard returned from his journey that same evening, and
said he had received letters upon the road, informing him that the
business which called him away was ended to his advantage. His
wife did all she could to convince him she was delighted at his
speedy return.
Next morning he asked her for the keys, which she gave him, but
with such a trembling hand that he easily guessed what had happened.
"How is it," said he, "that the key of my closet is not among the
rest?"
"I must certainly," said she, "have left it upstairs upon the
table."
"Do not fail," said Blue Beard, "to bring it to me presently."
After having put off doing it several times, she was forced to
bring him the key. Blue Beard, having examined it, said to his
wife:
"How comes this stain upon the key?"
"I do not know," cried the poor woman, paler than death.
"You do not know!" replied Blue Beard. "I very well know.
You wished to go into the cabinet? Very well, madam; you shall
go in, and take your place among the ladies you saw there."
She threw herself weeping at her husband's feet, and begged his
pardon with all the signs of a true repentance for her disobedience.
She would have melted a rock, so beautiful and sorrowful was she;
but Blue Beard had a heart harder than any stone.
"You must die, madam," said he, "and that at once."
"Since I must die," answered she, looking upon him with her eyes
all bathed in tears, "give me some little time to say my prayers."
"I give you," replied Blue Beard, "half a quarter of an hour,
but not one moment more."
When she was alone she called out to her sister, and said to her:
"Sister Anne,"---for that was her name,---"go up, I beg you, to
the top of the tower, and look if my brothers are not coming; they
promised me they would come today, and if you see them, give them
a sign to make haste."
Her sister Anne went up to the top of the tower, and the poor
afflicted wife cried out from time to time:
"Anne, sister Anne, do you see any one coming?"
And sister Anne said:
"I see nothing but the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass,
which looks green."
In the meanwhile Blue Beard, holding a great saber in his hand,
cried to his wife as loud as he could:
"Come down instantly, or I shall come up to you."
"One moment longer, if you please," said his wife; and then she
cried out very softly, "Anne, sister Anne, dost thou see anybody
coming?"
And sister Anne answered:
"I see nothing but the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass,
which is green."
"Come down quickly," cried Blue Beard, "or I will come up to
you."
"I am coming," answered his wife; and then she cried, "Anne,
sister Anne, dost thou not see any one coming?"
"I see," replied sister Anne, "a great dust, which comes from
this side."
"Are they my brothers?"
"Alas! no, my sister, I see a flock of sheep."
"Will you not come down?" cried Blue Beard.
"One moment longer," said his wife, and then she cried out,
"Anne, sister Anne, dost thou see nobody coming?"
"I see," said she, "two horsemen, but they are yet a great way
off."
"God be praised," replied the poor wife, joyfully; "they are my
brothers; I will make them a sign, as well as I can, for them to make
haste."
Then Blue Beard bawled out so loud that he made the whole house
tremble. The distressed wife came down, and threw herself at his
feet, all in tears, with her hair about her shoulders.
"All this is of no help to you," says Blue Beard; "you must
die;" then, taking hold of her hair with one hand, and lifting up
his sword in the air with the other, he was about to take off her head.
The poor lady, turning about to him, and looking at him with dying
eyes, desired him to afford her one little moment to her thoughts.
"No, no," said he, "commend thyself to God," and again lifting
his arm--
At this moment there was such a loud knocking at the gate that
Blue Beard stopped suddenly. The gate was opened, and presently
entered two horsemen, who, with sword in hand, ran directly to
Blue Beard. He knew them to be his wife's brothers, one a dragoon,
the other a musketeer. He ran away immediately, but the two
brothers pursued him so closely that they overtook him before he
could get to the steps of the porch. There they ran their swords
through his body, and left him dead. The poor wife was almost
as dead as her husband, and had not strength enough to arise and
welcome her brothers.
Blue Beard had no heirs, and so his wife became mistress of all
his estate. She made use of one portion of it to marry her sister
Anne to a young gentleman who had loved her a long while; another
portion to buy captains' commissions for her brothers; and the
rest to marry herself to a very worthy gentleman, who made her
forget the sorry time she had passed with Blue Beard.
JACK AND THE BEANSTALK
Joseph Jacobs
There was once upon a time a poor widow who had an only son
named Jack, and a cow named Milky-white. And all they had to
live on was the milk the cow gave every morning, which they carried
to the market and sold. But one morning Milky-white gave
no milk, and they didn't know what to do.
"What shall we do, what shall we do?" said the widow, wringing
her hands.
"Cheer up, mother, I'll go and get work somewhere," said Jack.
"We've tried that before, and nobody would take you," said his
mother; "we must sell Milky-white and with the money start shop,
or something."
"All right, mother," says Jack; "it's market-day today, and I'll
soon sell Milky-white, and then we'll see what we can do."
So he took the cow's halter in his hand, and off he started. He
hadn't gone far when he met a funny-looking old man, who said to
him: "Good morning, Jack."
"Good morning to you," said Jack, and wondered how he knew
his name.
"Well, Jack, and where are you off to?" said the man.
"I'm going to market to sell our cow here."
"Oh, you look the proper sort of chap to sell cows," said the man,
"I wonder if you know how many beans make five."
"Two in each hand and one in your mouth," says Jack, as sharp
as a needle.
"Right you are," says the man, "and here they are, the very beans
themselves," he went on, pulling out of his pocket a number of
strange-looking beans. "As you are so sharp," says he, "I don't
mind a swop with you---your cow for these beans."
"Go along," says Jack; "wouldn't you like it?"
"Ah! you don't know what these beans are," said the man; "if
you plant them over night, by morning they grow right up to the
sky."
"Really?" said Jack; "you don't say so."
"Yes, that is so, and if it doesn't turn out to be true, you can have
your cow back."
"Right," says Jack, and hands him over Milky-white's halter and
pockets the beans.
Back goes Jack home, and as he hadn't gone very far it wasn't
dusk by the time he got to his door.
"Back already, Jack?" said his mother; "I see you haven't
got Milky-white, so you've sold her. How much did you get for
her?"
"You'll never guess, mother," says Jack.
"No, you don't say so. Good boy! Five pounds, ten, fifteen,
no, it can't be twenty."
"I told you you couldn't guess. What do you say to these beans;
they're magical, plant them over night and---"
"What!" says Jack's mother; "have you been such a fool, such
a dolt, such an idiot, as to give away my Milky-white, the best milker
in the parish, and prime beef to boot, for a set of paltry beans?
Take that! Take that! Take that! And as for your precious
beans, here they go out of the window. And now off with you to
bed. Not a sup shall you drink, and not a bit shall you swallow
this very night."
So Jack went upstairs to his little room in the attic, and sad and
sorry he was, to be sure, as much for his mother's sake as for the
loss of his supper.
At last he dropped off to sleep.
When he woke up, the room looked so funny. The sun was shining
into part of it, and yet all the rest was quite dark and shady.
So Jack jumped up and dressed himself and went to the window.
And what do you think he saw? Why, the beans his mother had
thrown out of the window into the garden, had sprung up into a
big beanstalk which went up and up and up till it reached the sky.
So the man spoke truth after all.
The beanstalk grew up quite close past Jack's window, so all he
had to do was to open it and give a jump on to the beanstalk, which
ran up just like a big ladder. So Jack climbed, and he climbed
and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and
he climbed till at last he reached the sky. And when he got there
he found a long, broad road going as straight as a dart. So he
walked along and he walked along till he came to a great big tall
house, and on the doorstep there was a great big tall woman.
"Good morning, mum," says Jack, quite politely. "Could you
be so kind as to give me some breakfast?" For he hadn't had
anything to eat, you know, the night before and was as hungry as
a hunter.
"It's breakfast you want, is it?" says the great big tall woman;
"it's breakfast you'll be if you don't move off from here. My man
is an ogre and there's nothing he likes better than boys broiled on
toast. You'd better be moving on or he'll soon be coming."
"Oh! please, mum, do give me something to eat, mum. I've had
nothing to eat since yesterday morning, really and truly, mum," says
Jack. "I may as well be broiled as die of hunger."
Well, the ogre's wife was not half so bad after all. So she took
Jack into the kitchen, and gave him a chunk of bread and cheese and
a jug of milk. But Jack hadn't half finished these when thump!
thump! thump! the whole house began to tremble with the noise of
some one coming.
"Good gracious me! It's my old man," said the ogre's wife;
"what on earth shall I do? Come along quick and jump in here."
And she bundled Jack into the oven just as the ogre came in.
He was a big one, to be sure. At his belt he had three calves
strung up by the heels, and he unhooked them and threw them down
on the table and said: "Here, wife, broil me a couple of these for
breakfast. Ah! what's this I smell?
"Fee-fi-fo-fum,
I smell the blood of an Englishman,
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I'll have his bones to grind my bread."
"Nonsense, dear," said his wife, "you're dreaming. Or perhaps
you smell the scraps of that little boy you liked so much for
yesterday's dinner. Here, you go and have a wash and tidy up, and
by the time you come back your breakfast'll be ready for you."
So off the ogre went, and Jack was just going to jump out of the
oven and run away when the woman told him not. "Wait till he's
asleep," says she; "he always has a doze after breakfast."
Well, the ogre had his breakfast, and after that he goes to a big
chest and takes out of it a couple of bags of gold, and down he sits
and counts till at last his head began to nod and he began to snore
till the whole house shook again.
Then Jack crept out on tiptoe from his oven, and as he was passing
the ogre he took one of the bags of gold under his arm, and off he
pelters till he came to the beanstalk, and then he threw down the bag
of gold, which of course fell into his mother's garden, and then he
climbed down and climbed down till at last he got home and told
his mother and showed her the gold and said: "Well, mother,
wasn't I right about the beans? They are really magical, you see."
So they lived on the bag of gold for some time, but at last they
came to the end of it, and Jack made up his mind to try his luck once
more at the top of the beanstalk. So one fine morning he rose up
early, and got on to the beanstalk, and he climbed and he climbed
and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed till
at last he came out on to the road again and up to the great big tall
house he had been to before. There, sure enough, was the great
big tall woman a-standing on the doorstep.
"Good morning, mum," says Jack, as bold as brass, "could you
be so good as to give me something to eat?"
"Go away, my boy," said the big tall woman, "or else my man
will eat you up for breakfast. But aren't you the youngster who
came here once before? Do you know, that very day, my man
missed one of his bags of gold."
"That's strange, mum," said Jack, "I dare say I could tell you
something about that, but I'm so hungry I can't speak till I've had
something to eat."
Well, the big tall woman was so curious that she took him in and
gave him something to eat. But he had scarcely begun munching
it as slowly as he could when thump! thump! thump! they heard
the giant's footstep, and his wife hid Jack away in the oven.
All happened as it did before. In came the ogre as he did before,
said: "Fee-fi-fo-fum," and had his breakfast of three broiled oxen.
Then he said: "Wife, bring me the hen that lays the golden eggs."
So she brought it, and the ogre said: "Lay," and it laid an egg all
of gold. And then the ogre began to nod his head, and to snore till
the house shook. Then Jack crept out of the oven on tiptoe and
caught hold of the golden hen, and was off before you could say
"Jack Robinson." But this time the hen gave a cackle which woke
the ogre, and just as Jack got out of the house he heard him calling:
"Wife, wife, what have you done with my golden hen?"
And the wife said: "Why, my dear?"
But that was all Jack heard, for he rushed off to the beanstalk and
climbed down like a house on fire. And when he got home, he
showed his mother the wonderful hen, and said "Lay" to it; and it
laid a golden egg every time he said "Lay."
Well, Jack was not content, and it wasn't very long before he determined
to have another try at his luck up there at the top of the beanstalk.
So one fine morning he rose up early, and got on to the beanstalk, and
he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed till he got to
the top. But this time he knew better than to go straight to the ogre's
house. And when he got near it, he waited behind a bush till he saw the
ogre's wife come out with a pail to get some water, and then he crept
into the house and got into the copper. He hadn't been there long when
he heard thump! thump! thump! as before, and in came the ogre and his
wife.
"Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman," cried out the
ogre. "I smell him, wife, I smell him."
"Do you, my dearie?" says the ogre's wife. "Then if it's that
little rogue that stole your gold and the hen that laid the golden
eggs he's sure to have got into the oven." And they both rushed to
the oven. But Jack wasn't there, luckily, and the ogre's wife said:
"There you are again with your fee-fi-fo-fum. Why, of course it's
the boy you caught last night that I've just broiled for your breakfast.
How forgetful I am, and how careless you are not to know the
difference between live and dead after all these years."
So the ogre sat down to the breakfast and ate it, but every now
and then he would mutter: "Well, I could have sworn--" and
he'd get up and search the larder and the cupboards and everything;
only, luckily, he didn't think of the copper.
After breakfast was over, the ogre called out: "Wife, wife,
bring me my golden harp." So she brought it out and put it on
the table before him. Then he said: "Sing!" and the golden harp
sang most beautifully. And it went on singing till the ogre fell
asleep and commenced to snore like thunder.
Then Jack lifted up the copper-lid very quietly and got down
like a mouse and crept on hands and knees till he came to the table,
when up he crawled, caught hold of the golden harp and dashed with
it towards the door. But the harp called out quite loud: "Master!
Master!" and the ogre woke up just in time to see Jack running off
with his harp.
Jack ran as fast as he could, and the ogre came rushing after, and
would soon have caught him only Jack had a start and dodged him
a bit and knew where he was going. When he got to the beanstalk
the ogre was not more than twenty yards away when suddenly he saw
Jack disappear-like, and when he came to the end of the road he
saw Jack underneath climbing down for dear life. Well, the ogre
didn't like trusting himself to such a ladder, and he stood and waited,
so Jack got another start. But just then the harp cried out: "Master!
Master!" and the ogre swung himself down on to the beanstalk,
which shook with his weight. Down climbs Jack, and after
him climbed the ogre. By this time Jack had climbed down and
climbed down and climbed down till he was very nearly home. So
he called out: "Mother! Mother! bring me an ax, bring me an
ax." And his mother came rushing out with the ax in her hand,
but when she came to the beanstalk she stood stock still with fright,
for there she saw the ogre with his legs just through the clouds.
But Jack jumped down and got hold of the ax and gave a chop at
the beanstalk which cut it half in two. The ogre felt the beanstalk
shake and quiver, so he stopped to see what was the matter. Then
Jack gave another chop with the ax, and the beanstalk was cut in
two and began to topple over. Then the ogre fell down and broke
his crown, and the beanstalk came toppling after.
Then Jack showed his mother his golden harp, and what with
showing that and selling the golden eggs, Jack and his mother became
very rich, and he married a great princess, and they lived
happy ever after.
THE ELVES
Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm
A shoemaker, by no fault of his own, had become so poor that
at last he had nothing left but leather for one pair of shoes. So
in the evening, he cut out the shoes which he wished to begin to
make the next morning, and as he had a good conscience, he lay
down quietly in his bed, commended himself to God, and fell
asleep.
In the morning, after he had said his prayers, and was just going
to sit down to work, the two shoes stood quite finished on his table.
He was astounded, and did not know what to say to it. He took
the shoes in his hands to observe them closer, and they were so neatly
made that there was not one bad stitch in them, just as if they were
intended as a masterpiece.
Soon after, too, a buyer came in, and as the shoes pleased him so
well, he paid more for them than was customary, and, with the
money, the shoemaker was able to purchase leather for two pairs of
shoes. He cut them out at night, and next morning was about to set
to work with fresh courage; but he had no need to do so, for, when
he got up, they were already made, and buyers also were not
wanting, who gave him money enough to buy leather for four pairs
of shoes. The following morning, too, he found the four pairs
made; and so it went on constantly, what he cut out in the evening
was finished in the morning, so that he soon had his honest independence
again, and at last became a wealthy man.
Now it befell that one evening not long before Christmas, when
the man had been cutting out, he said to his wife, before going to
bed, "What think you if we were to stay up tonight to see who it is
that lends us this helping hand?" The woman liked the idea, and
lighted a candle, and then they hid themselves in a corner of the
room, behind some clothes which were hanging up there, and watched.
When it was midnight, two pretty little naked men came, sat down
by the shoemaker's table, took all the work which was cut out before
them and began to stitch, and sew, and hammer so skillfully and
so quickly with their little fingers that the shoemaker could not turn
away his eyes for astonishment. They did not stop until all was
done and stood finished on the table, and then they ran quickly
away.
Next morning the woman said, "The little men have made us rich,
and we really must show that we are grateful for it. They run
about so, and have nothing on, and must be cold. I'll tell thee
what I'll do: I will make them little shirts, and coats, and vests,
and trousers, and knit both of them a pair of stockings, and do thou,
too, make them two little pairs of shoes." The man said, "I shall
be very glad to do it;" and one night, when everything was ready,
they laid their presents all together on the table instead of the cutout
work, and then concealed themselves to see how the little men
would behave.
At midnight they came bounding in, and wanted to get at work at
once, but as they did not find any leather cut out, but only the pretty
little articles of clothing, they were at first astonished, and then they
showed intense delight. They dressed themselves with the greatest
rapidity, putting the pretty clothes on, and singing,
"Now we are boys so fine to see,
Why should we longer cobblers be?"
Then they danced and skipped and leapt over chairs and benches.
At last they danced out of doors.
From that time forth they came no more, but as long as the shoemaker
lived all went well with him, and all his undertakings prospered.
THE FROG-PRINCE
Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm
One fine evening a young princess went into a wood and sat down
by the side of a cool spring of water. She had a golden ball in
her hand, which was her favorite plaything, and she amused herself
with tossing it into the air and catching it again as it fell. After
a time she threw it up so high that when she stretched out her
hand to catch it, the ball bounded away and rolled along upon the
ground, till at last it fell into the spring. The princess looked into
the spring after her ball; but it was very deep, so deep that she could
not see the bottom of it. Then she began to lament her loss, and
said, "Alas! if I could only get my ball again, I would give all my
fine clothes and jewels, and everything that I have in the world."
While she was speaking a frog put its head out of the water and
said, "Princess, why do you weep so bitterly?" "Alas!" said
she, "what can you do for me, you nasty frog? My golden ball
has fallen into the spring." The frog said, "I want not your pearls
and jewels and fine clothes; but if you will love me and let me live
with you, and eat from your little golden plate, and sleep upon your
little bed, I will bring you your ball again." "What nonsense,"
thought the princess, "this silly frog is talking! He can never get
out of the well: however, he may be able to get my ball for me; and
therefore I will promise him what he asks." So she said to the frog,
"Well, if you will bring me my ball, I promise to do all you require."
Then the frog put his head down, and dived deep under the water;
and after a little while he came up again with the ball in his mouth,
and threw it on the ground. As soon as the young princess saw her
ball, she ran to pick it up, and was so overjoyed to have it in her
hand again, that she never thought of the frog, but ran home with
it as fast as she could. The frog called after her, "Stay, princess,
and take me with you as you promised;" but she did not stop to
hear a word.
The next day, just as the princess had sat down to dinner, she
heard a strange noise, tap-tap, as if somebody was coming up the
marble staircase; and soon afterwards something knocked gently at
the door, and said:
"Open the door, my princess dear,
Open the door to thy true love here!
And mind the words that thou and I said,
By the fountain cool in the greenwood shade."
Then the princess ran to the door and opened it, and there she
saw the frog, whom she had quite forgotten; she was terribly frightened,
and shutting the door as fast as she could, came back to her
seat. The king her father asked her what had frightened her.
"There is a nasty frog," said she, "at the door, who lifted my ball
out of the spring last evening: I promised him that he should live
with me here, thinking that he could never get out of the spring;
but there he is at the door and wants to come in!" While she was
speaking, the frog knocked again at the door, and said:
"Open the door, my princess dear,
Open the door to thy true love here!
And mind the words that thou and I said,
By the fountain cool in the greenwood shade."
The king said to the young princess, "As you have made a
promise, you must keep it; so go and let him in." She did so, and
the frog hopped into the room, and came up close to the table.
"Pray lift me upon a chair," said he to the princess, "and let me sit
next to you." As soon as she had done this, the frog said, "Put
your plate closer to me that I may eat out of it." This she did,
and when he had eaten as much as he could, he said, "Now I am
tired; carry me upstairs and put me into your little bed." And the
princess took him up in her hand and put him upon the pillow of
her own little bed, where he slept all night long. As soon as it
was light, he jumped up, hopped downstairs, and went out of the
house. "Now," thought the princess, "he is gone, and I shall be
troubled with him no more."
But she was mistaken; for when night came again, she heard the
same tapping at the door, and when she opened it, the frog came
in and slept upon her pillow as before till the morning broke:
and the third night he did the same; but when the princess awoke
on the following morning, she was astonished to see, instead of the
frog, a handsome prince standing at the head of her bed, and gazing
on her with the most beautiful eyes that ever were seen.
He told her that he had been enchanted by a malicious fairy, who
had changed him into the form of a frog, in which he was fated to
remain till some princess should take him out of the spring and let
him sleep upon her bed for three nights. "You," said the prince,
"have broken this cruel charm, and now I have nothing to wish for
but that you should go with me into my father's kingdom, where I
will marry you, and love you as long as you live."
The young princess, you may be sure, was not long in giving her
consent; and as they spoke, a splendid carriage drove up with eight
beautiful horses decked with plumes of feathers and golden harness,
and behind rode the prince's servant, the faithful Henry, who
had bewailed the misfortune of his dear master so long and bitterly
that his heart had well-nigh burst. Then all set out full of joy
for the prince's kingdom, where they arrived safely, and lived happily
a great many years.
THE QUERN AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA
Peter Christen Asbjornsen
Once upon a time in the old, old days there were two brothers, one
of whom was rich and the other poor. When Christmas Eve came
the poor brother had not a morsel in the house, neither of meat nor
bread; and so he went to his rich brother, and asked for a trifle
for Christmas, in heaven's name. It was not the first time the
brother had helped him, but he was always very close-fisted, and was
not particularly glad to see him this time.
"If you'll do what I tell you, you shall have a whole ham," he
said. The poor brother promised he would, and was very grateful
into the bargain.
"There it is, and now go to the devil!" said the rich brother,
and threw the ham across to him.
"Well, what I have promised I must keep," said the other one.
He took the ham, and set out. He walked and walked the whole day,
and as it was getting dark he came to a place where the lights were
shining brightly. "This is most likely the place," thought the man
with the ham.
In the woodshed stood an old man with a long white beard, cutting
firewood for Christmas.
"Good evening," said he with the ham.
"Good evening to you," said the man. "Where are you going
so late?"
"I am going to the devil--that is to say, if I am on the right
way," answered the poor man.
"Yes, you are quite right; this is his place," said the old man.
"When you get in they will all want to buy your ham, for ham is
scarce food here; but you must not sell it unless you get the hand-quern,
which stands just behind the door. When you come out again I'll teach
you how to use it. You will find it useful in many ways."
The man with the ham thanked him for all the information and
knocked at the door.
When he got in it happened just as the old man had said. All
the imps, both big and small, flocked around him like ants in a field,
and the one outbid the other for the ham.
"Well," said the man, "my good woman and I were to have it
for Christmas Eve, but since you want it so badly I will let you
have it. But if I am going to part with it, I want that hand-quern
which stands behind the door."
The devil did not like to part with it, and higgled and haggled
with the man, but he stuck to what he had said, and in the end the
devil had to part with the quern.
When the man came out he asked the old woodcutter how he was
to use the quern, and when he had learned this, he thanked the old
man and set out homeward, as quickly as he could; but after all he
did not get home till the clock struck twelve on Christmas Eve.
"Where in all the world have you been?" said his wife. "Here
have I been sitting, hour after hour, waiting and watching for you,
and have not had as much as two chips to lay under the porridge
pot."
"Well, I couldn't get back before," said the man. "I have had
a good many things to look after, and I've had a long way to walk
as well; but now I'll show you something," said he, and he put the
quern on the table. He asked it first to grind candles, then a cloth,
and then food and beer, and everything else that was good for
Christmas cheer; and as he spoke the quern brought them forth. The
woman crossed herself time after time and wanted to know where her
husband had got the quern from; but this he would not tell her.
"It does not matter where I got it from; you see the quern is good
and the mill stream is not likely to freeze," said the man. So he
ground food and drink and all good things during Christmas; and
the third day he invited his friends, as he wanted to give them a
feast. When the rich brother saw all that was in the house, he became
both angry and furious, for he begrudged his brother everything.
"On Christmas Eve he was so needy that he came to me and asked
for a trifle in heaven's name; and now he gives a feast, as if he were
both a count and a king," said the brother. "Where did you get
all your riches from?" he said to his brother.
"From just behind the door," he answered, for he did not care
to tell his brother much about it. But later in the evening, when
he had drunk a little freely, he could no longer resist, but brought
out the quern.
"There you see that which has brought me all my riches,"
he said, and so he let the quern grind first one thing and then
another.
When the brother saw this he was determined to have the quern
at all cost, and at last it was settled he should have it, but three
hundred dollars was to be the price of it. The brother was, however,
to keep it till the harvest began; "for if I keep it so long I
can grind out food for many years to come," he thought.
During that time you may be sure the quern did not rust, and
when the harvest began the rich brother got it; but the other had
taken great care not to show him how to use it.
It was evening when the rich brother got the quern home, and in
the morning he asked his wife to go out and help the haymakers;
he would get the breakfast ready for himself, he said.
When it was near breakfast time he put the quern on the breakfast
table.
"Grind herrings and broth, and do it quickly and well," said the
man, and the quern began to bring forth herrings and broth, and
first filled all the dishes and tubs, and afterward began flooding the
whole kitchen.
The man fiddled and fumbled and tried to stop the quern, but
however much he twisted and fingered it, the quern went on grinding,
and in a little while the broth reached so high that the man was
very near drowning. He then pulled open the parlor door, but it
was not very long before the quern had filled the parlor also, and
it was just in the very nick of time that the man put his hand down
into the broth and got hold of the latch, and when he had got the
door open, he was soon out of the parlor, you may be sure. He
rushed out, and the herrings and the broth came pouring out after
him, like a stream, down the fields and meadows.
The wife, who was out haymaking, now thought it took too long a
time to get the breakfast ready.
"If my husband doesn't call us soon we must go home whether
or no: I don't suppose he knows much about making broth, so I
must go and help him," said the wife to the haymakers.
They began walking homeward, but when they had got a bit up the
hill they met the stream of broth with the herrings tossing about
in it and the man himself running in front of it all.
"I wish all of you had a hundred stomachs each!" shouted the
man; "but take care you don't get drowned." And he rushed past
them as if the Evil One were at his heels, down to where his brother
lived. He asked him for heaven's sake to take back the quern, and
that at once; "if it goes on grinding another hour the whole parish
will perish in broth and herrings," he said. But the brother would
not take it back on any account before his brother had paid him
three hundred dollars more, and this he had to do. The poor
brother now had plenty of money, and before long he bought a farm
much grander than the one on which his rich brother lived, and
with the quern he ground so much gold that he covered the farmstead
with gold plates, and, as it lay close to the shore, it glittered
and shone far out at sea. All those who sailed past wanted to
call and visit the rich man in the golden house, and everybody
wanted to see the wonderful quern, for its fame had spread far and
wide, and there was no one who had not heard it spoken of.
After a long while there came a skipper who wanted to see the
quern; he asked if it could grind salt. Yes, that it could, said he
who owned it; and when the skipper heard this he wanted the quern
by hook or crook, cost what it might, for if he had it he thought he
need not sail far away across dangerous seas for cargoes of salt.
At first the man did not want to part with it, but the skipper both
begged and prayed, and at last he sold it and got many, many thousand
dollars for it.
As soon as the skipper had got the quern on his back, he did not
stop long, for he was afraid the man would change his mind, and
as for asking how to use it he had no time to do that; he made for his
ship as quickly as he could, and when he had got out to sea a bit
he had the quern brought up on deck.
"Grind salt, and that both quickly and well," said the skipper,
and the quern began to grind out salt so that it spurted to all sides.
When the skipper had got the ship filled he wanted to stop the
quern, but however much he tried and whatever he did the quern
went on grinding, and the mound of salt grew higher and higher,
and at last the ship sank.
There at the bottom of the sea stands the quern grinding till this
very day, and that is the reason why the sea is salt.
BROTHER RABBIT AND BROTHER BULL-FROG
Joel Chandler Harris
The day that the little boy got permission to go to mill with Uncle
Remus was to be long remembered. It was a brand-new experience
to the little city-bred child, and he enjoyed it to the utmost. It is
true that Uncle Remus didn't go to mill in the old-fashioned way,
but even if the little chap had known of the old-fashioned way, his
enjoyment would not have been less. Instead of throwing a bag
of corn on the back of a horse, and perching himself on top in an
uneasy and a precarious position, Uncle Remus placed the corn in a
spring wagon, helped the little boy to climb into the seat, clucked to
the horse, and went along as smoothly and as rapidly as though they
were going to town.
Everything was new to the lad--the road, the scenery, the mill,
and the big mill pond, and, best of all, Uncle Remus allowed him to
enjoy himself in his own way when they came to the end of the
journey. He was such a cautious and timid child, having little or
none of the spirit of adventure that is supposed to dominate the
young, that the old negro was sure he would come to no harm. Instead
of wandering about, and going to places where he had no business
to go, the little boy sat where he could see the water flowing
over the big dam. He had never seen such a sight before, and the
water seemed to him to have a personality of its own--a personality
with both purpose and feeling.
The river was not a very large one, but it was large enough to be
impressive when its waters fell and tumbled over the big dam. The
little boy watched the tumbling water as it fell over the dam and
tossed itself into foam on the rocks below; he watched it so long
and he sat so still that he was able to see things that a noisier
youngster would have missed altogether. He saw a big bull-frog
creep warily from the water and wipe his mouth and eyes with one
of his fore legs, and he saw the same frog edge himself softly toward
a white butterfly that was flitting about near the edge of the stream.
He saw the frog lean forward, and then the butterfly vanished. It
seemed like a piece of magic. The child knew that the frog had
caught the butterfly, but how? The fluttering insect was more than
a foot from the frog when it disappeared, and he was sure that the
frog had neither jumped nor snapped at the butterfly. What he saw,
he saw as plainly as you see your hand in the light of day.
And he saw another sight too that is not given to every one to
see. While he was watching the tumbling water and wondering
where it all came from and where it was going, he thought he saw
swift-moving shadows flitting from the water below up and into
the mill pond above. He never would have been able to discover
just what the shadows were if one of them had not paused a
moment while halfway to the top of the falling water. It poised
itself for one brief instant, as a humming-bird poises over a flower,
but during that fraction of time the little boy was able to see that
what he thought was a shadow was really a fish going from the
water below to the mill pond above. The child could hardly believe
his eyes, and for a little while it seemed that the whole world
was turned topsy-turvy, especially as the shadows continued to flit
from the water below to the mill pond above.
And he was still more puzzled when he reported the strange
fact to Uncle Remus, for the old negro took the information as a
matter of course. With him the phenomenon was almost as old as
his experience. The only explanation that he could give of it was
that the fish--or some kinds of fish, and he didn't know rightly
what kind it was--had a habit of falling from the bottom of the
falls to the top. The most that he knew was that it was a fact,
and that it was occurring every day in the year when the fish were
running. It was certainly wonderful, as in fact everything would be
wonderful if it were not so familiar.
"We ain't got but one way er lookin' at things," remarked Uncle
Remus, "an' ef you'll b'lieve me, honey, it's a mighty one-sided way.
Ef you could git on a perch some'rs an' see things like dey reely is,
an' not like dey seem ter us, I be boun' you'd hol' yo' breff an' shet
yo' eyes."
The old man, without intending it, was going too deep into a deep
subject for the child to follow him, and so the latter told him about
the bull-frog and the butterfly. The statement seemed to call up
pleasing reminiscences, for Uncle Remus laughed in a hearty way.
And when his laughing had subsided, he continued to chuckle until
the little boy wondered what the source of his amusement could
be. Finally he asked the old negro point blank what had caused him
to laugh at such a rate.
"Yo' pa would 'a' know'd," Uncle Remus replied, and then he
grew solemn again and sighed heavily. For a little while he seemed
to be listening to the clatter of the mill, but, finally, he turned to the
little boy. "An' so you done made de 'quaintance er ol' Brer Bull-Frog?
Is you take notice whedder he had a tail er no?"
"Why, of course he didn't have a tail!" exclaimed the child.
"Neither toad-frogs nor bull-frogs have tails. I thought everybody
knew that."
"Oh, well, ef dat de way you feel 'bout um, 'taint no use fer ter
pester wid um. It done got so now dat folks don't b'lieve nothin'
but what dey kin see, an' mo' dan half un um won't b'lieve what dey
see less'n dey kin feel un it too. But dat ain't de way wid dem
what's ol' 'nough fer ter know. Ef I'd 'a' tol' you 'bout de fishes
swimmin' ag'in fallin' water, you wouldn't 'a' b'lieved me, would
you? No, you wouldn't--an' yet, dar 'twuz right 'fo' yo' face an'
eyes. Dar dey wuz a-skeetin' fum de bottom er de dam right up in
de mill pon', an' you settin' dar lookin' at um. S'posin' you wuz ter
say dat you won't b'lieve um less'n you kin feel um; does you speck
de fish gwineter hang dar in de fallin' water an' wait twel you kin
wade 'cross de slipp'y rocks an' put yo' han' on um? Did you look
right close, fer ter see ef de bull-frog what you seed is got a tail
er no?"
The little boy admitted that he had not. He knew as well as
anybody that no kind of a frog has a tail unless it is the Texas frog,
which is only a horned lizard, for he saw one once in Atlanta, and
it was nothing but a rusty-back lizard with a horn on his head.
"I ain't 'sputin' what you say, honey," said Uncle Remus, "but
de creetur what you seed mought 'a' been a frog an' you not know
it. One thing I does know is dat in times gone by de bull-frog had
a tail, kaze I hear de ol folks sesso, an' mo' dan dat, dey know'd
des how he los' it--de whar, an' de when an' de which-away. Fer
all I know it wuz right here at dish yer identual mill pon'. I ain't
gwine inter court an' make no affledave on it, but ef anybody wuz
ter walk up an' p'int der finger at me, an' say dat dis is de place
where ol' Brer Bull-Frog lose his tail, I'd up and 'low, 'Yasser, it
mus' be de place, kaze it look might'ly like de place what I been
hear tell 'bout.' An' den I'd set my eyes an' see ef I can't git it
straight in my dreams."
Uncle Remus paused and pretended to be counting a handful of
red grains of corn that he had found somewhere in the mill. Seeing
that he showed no disposition to tell how Brother Bull-Frog had
lost his tail, the little boy reminded him of it. But the old man
laughed. "Ef Brer Bull-Frog ain't never had no tail," he said,
"how de name er goodness he gwineter lose un? Ef he yever is had
a tail, why den dat's a gray boss uv an'er color. Dey's a tale 'bout
'im havin' a tail an' losin' it, but how kin dey be a tale when dey
ain't no tail?"
Well, the little boy didn't know at all, and he looked so disconsolate
and so confused that the old negro relented. "Now, den,"
he remarked, "ef ol' Brer Bull-Frog had a tail an' he ain't got none
now, dey must 'a' been sump'n happen. In dem times--de times
what all deze tales tells you 'bout--Brer Bull-Frog stayed in an'
aroun' still water des like he do now. De bad col' dat he had in
dem days, he's got it yit--de same pop-eyes, and de same bal'
head. Den, ez now, dey wa'n't a bunch er ha'r on it dat you could
pull out wid a pa'r er tweezers. Ez he bellers now, des dat a-way
he bellered den, mo' speshually at night. An' talk 'bout settin' up
late--why, ol' Brer Bull-Frog could beat dem what fust got in de
habits er settin' up late.
"Dey's one thing dat you'll hatter gi' 'im credit fer, an' dat wuz
keepin' his face an' han's clean, an' in takin' keer er his cloze. Nobody,
not even his mammy, had ter patch his britches er tack buttons
on his coat. See 'im whar you may an' when you mought, he wuz
allers lookin' spick an' span des like he done come right out'n a ban'-box.
You know what de riddle say 'bout 'im: when he stan' up he
sets down, an' when he walks he hops. He'd 'a' been mighty well
thunk un, ef it hadn't but 'a' been fer his habits. He holler so
much at night dat de yuther creeturs can't git no sleep. He'd holler
an' holler, an' 'bout de time you think he bleeze ter be 'shame' er
hollerin' so much, he'd up an' holler 'gi'n. It got so dat de creeturs
hatter go 'way off some'rs ef dey wanter git any sleep, an' it
seem like dey can't git so fur off but what Brer Bull-Frog would wake
um up time dey git ter dozin' good.
"He'd raise up an' low, _'Here I is! Here I is! Wharbouts is
you? Wharbouts is you? Come along! Come along!'_ It 'uz
des dat a-way de whole blessed night, an' de yuther creeturs, dey say
dat it sholy was a shame dat anybody would set right flat-footed an'
ruin der good name. Look like he pestered ev'ybody but ol' Brer
Rabbit, an' de reason dat he liked it wuz kaze it worried de yuther
creeturs. He'd set an' lissen, ol' Brer Rabbit would, an' den he'd
laugh fit ter kill kaze he ain't a-keerin' whedder er no he git any sleep
or not. Ef dey's anybody what kin set up twel de las' day in de
mornin' an' not git red-eyed an' heavy-headed, it's ol' Brer Rabbit.
When he wanter sleep, he'd des shet one eye an' sleep, an' when he
wanter stay 'wake, he'd des open bofe eyes, an' dar he wuz wid all
his foots under 'im, an' a-chawin' his terbacker same ez ef dey
wa'n't no Brer Bull-Frog in de whole Nunited State er Georgy.
"It went on dis way fer I dunner how long--ol' Brer Bull-Frog
a-bellerin' all night long an' keepin' de yuther creeturs 'wake, an'
Brer Rabbit a-laughin'. But, bimeby, de time come when Brer
Rabbit hatter lay in some mo' calamus root, ag'in de time when 't
would be too col' ter dig it, an' when he went fer ter hunt fer it,
his way led 'im down todes de mill pon' whar Brer Bull-Frog live
at. Dey wuz calamus root a-plenty down dar, an' Brer Rabbit, atter
lookin' de groun' over, promise hisse'f dat he'd fetch a basket de nex'
time he come, an' make one trip do fer two. He ain't been dar long
'fo' he had a good chance fer ter hear Brer Bull-Frog at close range.
He hear him, he did, an' he shake his head an' say dat a mighty
little bit er dat music would go a long ways, kaze dey ain't nobody
what kin stan' flat-footed an' say dat Brer Bull-Frog is a better singer
dan de mockin'-bird.
"Well, whiles Brer Rabbit wuz pirootin' roun' fer ter see what
mought be seed, he git de idee dat he kin hear thunder way off yander.
He lissen ag'in, an' he hear Brer Bull-Frog mumblin' an' grumblin'
ter hisse'f, an' he must 'a' had a mighty bad col', kaze his talk soun'
des like a bummil-eye bee been kotch in a sugar-barrel an' can't git
out. An' dat creetur must 'a' know'd dat Brer Rabbit wuz down in
dem neighborhoods, kaze, atter while, he 'gun to talk louder, an' yit
mo' louder. He say, _'Whar you gwine? Whar you gwine?'_ an'
den, '_Don't go too fur--don't go too fur!_' an', atter so long a
time, '_Come back--come back! Come back soon!_' Brer Rabbit, he
sot dar, he did, an' work his nose an' wiggle his mouf, an' wait fer
ter see what gwineter happen nex'.
"Whiles Brer Rabbit settin' dar, Brer Bull-Frog fall ter mumblin'
ag'in an' it look like he 'bout ter drap off ter sleep, but bimeby
he talk louder, '_Be my frien'--be my frien'! Oh, be my frien'!_'
Brer Rabbit wunk one eye an' smole a smile, kaze he done hear a
heap er talk like dat. He wipe his face an' eyes wid his pocket-hankcher,
an' sot so still dat you'd 'a' thunk he wa'n't nothin' but a
chunk er wood. But Brer Bull-Frog, he know'd how ter stay still
hisse'f, an' he ain't so much ez bubble a bubble. But atter whiles,
when Brer Rabbit can't stay still no mo,' he got up fum whar he wuz
settin' at an' mosied out by de mill-race whar de grass is fresh an' de
trees is green.
"Brer Bull-Frog holla, '_Jug-er-rum--jug-er-rum! Wade in
here--I'll gi' you some!_' Now der nothin' dat ol' Brer Rabbit
like better dan a little bit er dram fer de stomach-ache, an' his mouf
'gun ter water right den an' dar. He went a little closer ter de mill
pon', an' Brer Bull-Frog keep on a-talkin' 'bout de jug er rum,
an' what he gwine do ef Brer Rabbit'will wade in dar. He look at
de water, an' it look mighty col'; he look ag'in an' it look mighty
deep. It say, 'Lap-lap!' an' it look like it's a-creepin' higher.
Brer Rabbit drawed back wid a shiver, an' he wish mighty much dat
he'd a fotch his overcoat.
"Brer Bull-Frog say, '_Knee deep--knee deep! Wade in--
wade in!_' an' he make de water bubble des like he takin' a dram.
Den an' dar, sump'n n'er happen, an' how it come ter happen Brer
Rabbit never kin tell; but he peeped in de pon' fer ter see ef he kin
ketch a glimp er de jug, an' in he went--_kerchug!_ He ain't never
know whedder he fall in, er slip in, er ef he was pushed in, but
dar he wuz! He come mighty nigh not gittin' out; but he scramble
an' he scuffle twel he git back ter de bank whar he kin clim' out,
an' he stood dar, he did, an' kinder shuck hisse'f, kaze he mighty
glad fer ter fin' dat he's in de worl' once mo'. He know'd dat a
lettel mo' an' he'd 'a' been gone fer good, kaze when he drapped in,
er jumped in, er fell in, he wuz over his head an' years, an' he
hatter do a sight er kickin' an' scufflin' an' swallerin' water 'fo' he kin
git whar he kin grab de grass on de bank.
"He sneeze an' snoze, an' wheeze an' whoze, twel it look like he'd
drown right whar he wuz stan'in' anyway you kin fix it. He say ter
hisse'f dat he ain't never gwineter git de tas'e er river water outer
his mouf an' nose, an' he wonder how in de worl' dat plain water
kin be so watery. Ol' Brer Bull-Frog, he laugh like a bull in de
pastur', an' Brer Rabbit gi' a sidelong look dat oughter tol' 'im ez
much ez a map kin tell one er deze yer school scholars. Brer Rabbit
look at 'im, but he ain't say narry a word. He des shuck hisse'f
once mo', an' put out fer home whar he kin set in front er de fire
an' git dry.
"Atter dat day, Brer Rabbit riz mighty soon an' went ter bed late,
an' he watch Brer Bull-Frog so close dat dey wa'n't nothin' he kin do
but what Brer Rabbit know' 'bout it time it 'uz done; an' one
thing he know'd better dan all--he know' dat when de winter time
come Brer Bull-Frog would have ter pack up his duds an' move over
in de bog whar de water don't git friz up. Dat much he know'd, an'
when dat time come, he laid off fer ter make Brer Bull-Frog's journey,
short ez it wuz, ez full er hap'nin's ez de day when de ol' cow
went dry. He tuck an' move his bed an' board ter de big holler
poplar, not fur fum de mill pon', an' dar he stayed an' keep one eye
on Brer Bull-Frog bofe night an' day. He ain't lose no flesh whiles
he waitin', kaze he ain't one er deze yer kin' what mopes an' gits
sollumcolly; he wuz all de time betwixt a grin an' a giggle.
"He know'd mighty well--none better--dat time goes by turns
in deze low groun's, an' he wait fer de day when Brer Bull-Frog
gwineter move his belongin's fum pon' ter bog. An' bimeby dat
time come, an' when it come, Brer Bull-Frog is done fergit off'n his
mind all 'bout Brer Rabbit an' his splashification. He rig hisse'f
out in his Sunday best, an' he look kerscrumptious ter dem what like
dat kinder doin's. He had on a little sojer hat wid green an' white
speckles all over it, an' a long green coat, an' satin britches, an'
a white silk wescut, an' shoes wid silver buckles. Mo' dan dat, he
had a green umbrell fer ter keep fum havin' freckles, an' his long
spotted tail wuz done up in de umbrell kivver so dat it won't drag on
de groun'."
Uncle Remus paused to see what the little boy would say to this
last statement, but the child's training prevented the asking of many
questions, and so he only laughed at the idea of a frog with a tail,
and the tail done up in the cover of a green umbrella. The laughter
of the youngster was hearty enough to satisfy the old negro, and he
went on with the story.
"Whiles all dis goin' on, honey, you better b'lieve dat Brer Rabbit
wa'n't so mighty fur fum dar. When Brer Bull-Frog come out
an' start fer ter promenade ter de bog, Brer Rabbit show hisse'f an'
make like he skeered. He broke an' run, an' den he stop fer ter see
what 'tis--an' den he run a leetle ways an' stop ag'in, an' he keep on
dodgin' an' runnin' twel he fool Brer Bull-Frog inter b'lievin' dat he
wuz skeer'd mighty nigh ter death.
"You know how folks does when dey git de idee dat somebody's
feared un um--ef you don't you'll fin' out long 'fo' yo' whiskers gits
ter hangin' to yo' knees. When folks take up dis idee, dey gits
biggity, an' dey ain't no stayin' in de same country wid um.
"Well, Brer Bull-Frog, he git de idee dat Brer Rabbit wuz 'fear'd
un 'im, an' he shuck his umbrell like he mad, an' he beller: 'Whar
my gun?' Brer Rabbit flung up bofe han's like he wuz skeer'd er
gittin' a load er shot in his vitals, an' den he broke an' run ez hard
ez he kin. Brer Bull-Frog holler out, 'Come yer, you vilyun, an'
le' me' gi' you de frailin' what I done promise you!' but ol' Brer
Rabbit, he keep on a-gwine. Brer Bull-Frog went hoppin' atter,
but he ain't make much headway, kaze all de time he wuz hoppin'
he wuz tryin' to strut.
"'Twuz e'en about ez much ez Brer Rabbit kin do ter keep fum
laughin', but he led Brer Bull-Frog ter de holler poplar, whar he
had his hatchet hid. Ez he went in' he 'low, 'You can't git me!'
He went in, he did, an' out he popped on t'er side. By dat time
Brer Bull-Frog wuz mighty certain an' sho dat Brer Rabbit wuz
skeer'd ez he kin be, an' inter de holler he went, widout so much ez
takin' de trouble ter shet up his umbrell. When he got in de holler,
in co'se he ain't see hide ner ha'r er Brer Rabbit, an' he beller out,
'Whar is you? You may hide, but I'll fin' you, an' when I does
--when I does!' He ain't say all he wanter say, kaze by dat time
Brer Rabbit wuz lammin' on de tree wid his hatchet. He hit it some
mighty heavy whacks, an' Brer Bull-Frog git de idee dat somebody
wuz cuttin' it down.
"Dat kinder skeer'd 'im, kaze he know dat ef de tree fell while he
in de holler, it'd be all-night Isom wid him. But when he make a
move fer ter turn roun' in dar fer ter come out, Brer Rabbit run
roun' ter whar he wuz, an' chop his tail off right smick-smack-smoove."
The veteran story-teller paused, and looked at the clouds that
were gathering in the sky. "'Twouldn't 'stonish me none," he
remarked dryly, "ef we wuz ter have some fallin' wedder."
"But, Uncle Remus, what happened when Brother Rabbit cut off
the Bull-Frog's tail?" inquired the little boy.
The old man sighed heavily, and looked around, as if he were
hunting for some way of escape. "Why, honey, when de Frog tail
wuz cut off, it stayed off, but dey tells me dat it kep' on a wigglin'
plum twel de sun went down. Dis much I does know, dat sence
dat day, none er de Frog fambly has been troubled wid tails. Ef
you don't believe me you kin ketch um an' see."
BROWNIE AND THE COOK
Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
There was once a little Brownie who lived--where do you
think he lived?--In a coal cellar.
Now a coal cellar may seem a most curious place to choose to
live in; but then a Brownie is a curious creature--a fairy, and
yet not one of that sort of fairies who fly about on gossamer
wings, and dance in the moonlight, and so on. He never dances;
and as to wings, what use would they be to him in a coal cellar?
He is a sober, stay-at-home household elf--nothing much to look
at, even if you did see him, which you are not likely to do--only
a little old man, about a foot high, all dressed in brown, with a
brown face and hands, and a brown peaked cap, just the color of a
brown mouse. And like a mouse he hides in corners--especially
kitchen corners, and only comes out after dark when nobody is about,
and so sometimes people call him Mr. Nobody.
I said you were not likely to see him. I never did, certainly, and
never knew anybody that did; but still, if you were to go into
Devonshire, you would hear many funny stories about Brownies in
general, and so I may as well tell you the adventures of this
particular Brownie, who belonged to a family there; which family he
had followed from house to house, most faithfully, for years and
years.
A good many people had heard him--or supposed they had--
when there were extraordinary noises about the house; noises which
must have come from a mouse or a rat--or a Brownie. But nobody
had ever seen him, except the children, the three little boys and
three little girls--who declared he often came to play with them when
they were alone, and was the nicest companion in the world, though
he was such an old man--hundreds of years old! He was full of
fun and mischief and up to all sorts of tricks, but he never did
anybody any harm unless they deserved it.
Brownie was supposed to live under one particular coal, in the
darkest corner of the cellar, which was never allowed to be
disturbed. Why he had chosen it nobody knew, and how he lived there,
nobody knew either; nor what he lived upon. Except that, ever
since the family could remember, there had always been a bowl of
milk put behind the coal cellar door for the Brownie's supper.
Perhaps he drank it--perhaps he didn't: anyhow, the bowl was
always found empty next morning.
The old Cook, who had lived all her life in the family, had never
once forgotten to give Brownie his supper; but at last she died, and a
young Cook came in her stead, who was very apt to forget everything.
She was also both careless and lazy, and disliked taking
the trouble to put a bowl of milk in the same place every night for
Mr. Nobody. "She didn't believe in Brownies," she said; "she
had never seen one, and seeing's believing." So she laughed at the
other servants, who looked very grave, and put the bowl of milk in
its place as often as they could, without saying much about it.
But once, when Brownie woke up, at his usual hour for rising--
ten o'clock at night, and looked round in search of his supper--
which was in fact his breakfast, he found nothing there. At first
he could not imagine such neglect, and went smelling and smelling
about for his bowl of milk--it was not always placed in the same
corner now--but in vain.
"This will never do," said he; and being extremely hungry, began
running about the coal cellar to see what he could find. His eyes
were as useful in the dark as in the light--like a pussycat's; but
there was nothing to be seen--not even a potato paring, or a dry
crust, or a well-gnawed bone, such as Tiny the terrier sometimes
brought into the coal cellar and left on the floor. Nothing, in short,
but heaps of coals and coal dust, which even a Brownie cannot eat,
you know.
"Can't stand this; quite impossible!" said the Brownie, tightening
his belt to make his poor little inside feel less empty. He had been
asleep so long--about a week, I believe, as was his habit when there
was nothing to do---that he seemed ready to eat his own head, or his
boots, or anything. "What's to be done? Since nobody brings my
supper I must go and fetch it."
He spoke quickly, for he always thought quickly and made up
his mind in a minute. To be sure it was a very little mind, like his
little body; but he did the best he could with it, and was not a bad
sort of old fellow after all. In the house he had never done any
harm--and often some good, for he frightened away all the rats,
mice, and black beetles. Not the crickets--he liked them, as the
old Cook had done: she said they were such cheerful creatures, and
always brought luck to the house. But the young Cook could not
bear them, and used to pour boiling water down their holes, and set
basins of beer with little wooden bridges up to the rim, that they
might walk up, tumble in, and be drowned.
So there was not even a cricket singing in the silent house when
Brownie put his head out of his coal cellar door, which, to his
surprise, he found open. Old Cook used to lock it every night;
but the young Cook had left that key, and the kitchen and pantry
keys too, all dangling in the lock, so that any thief might have got
in and wandered all over the house without being found out.
"Hurrah, here's luck!" cried Brownie, tossing his cap up in
the air, and bounding right through the scullery into the kitchen.
It was quite empty, but there was a good fire burning itself out--
just for its own amusement, and the remains of a capital supper
were spread on the table--enough for half-a-dozen people being
left still.
Would you like to know what there was? Devonshire cream, of
course; and part of a large dish of junket, which is something like
curds and whey. Lots of bread and butter and cheese, and half an
apple pudding. Also a great jug of cider and another of milk,
and several half-full glasses, and no end of dirty plates, knives, and
forks. All were scattered about the table in the most untidy fashion,
just as the servants had risen from their supper, without thinking to
put anything away.
Brownie screwed up his little old face and turned up his button
of a nose, and gave a long whistle. You might not believe it, seeing
he lived in a coal cellar, but really he liked tidiness and always
played his pranks upon disorderly or slovenly folk.
"Whew!" said he, "here's a chance! What a supper I'll get
now!"
And he jumped on to a chair and thence to the table, but so quietly
that the large black cat with four white paws, called Muff, because
she was so fat and soft and her fur so long, who sat dozing in front
of the fire, just opened one eye and went to sleep again. She had
tried to get her nose into the milk jug, but it was too small; and
the junket dish was too deep for her to reach, except with one paw.
She didn't care much for bread and cheese and apple pudding, and
was very well fed besides; so after just wandering round the table
she had jumped down from it again, and settled herself to sleep on
the hearth.
But Brownie had no notion of going to sleep. He wanted his
supper, and oh! what a supper he did eat! first one thing and then
another, and then trying everything all over again. And oh! what
a lot he drank!--first milk and then cider, and then mixed the two
together in a way that would have disagreed with anybody except a
Brownie. As it was, he was obliged to slacken his belt several times,
and at last took it off altogether. But he must have had a most
extraordinary capacity for eating and drinking--since, after he
had nearly cleared the table, he was just as lively as ever, and
began jumping about on the table as if he had had no supper at all.
Now his jumping was a little awkward, for there happened to be
a clean white tablecloth! as this was only Monday, it had had no time
to get dirty--untidy as the Cook was. And you know Brownie lived
in a coal cellar, and his feet were black with running about in coal
dust. So wherever he trod, he left the impression behind; until at
last the whole tablecloth was covered with black marks.
Not that he minded this; in fact, he took great pains to make the
cloth as dirty as possible; and then laughing loudly, "Ho, ho, ho!"
leaped on to the hearth, and began teasing the cat; squeaking like a
mouse, or chirping like a cricket, or buzzing like a fly; and altogether
disturbing poor Pussy's mind so much, that she went and hid herself in
the farthest corner, and left him the hearth all to himself, where he
lay at ease till daybreak.
Then, hearing a slight noise overhead, which might be the servants
getting up, he jumped on to the table again--gobbled up the
few remaining crumbs for his breakfast, and scampered off to his
coal cellar; where he hid himself under his big coal, and fell asleep
for the day.
Well, the Cook came downstairs rather earlier than usual, for she
remembered she had to clear off the remains of supper; but lo and
behold, there was nothing left to clear! Every bit of food was
eaten up--the cheese looked as if a dozen mice had been nibbling
at it, and nibbled it down to the very rind; the milk and cider were
all drunk--and mice don't care for milk and cider, you know: as for
the apple pudding, it had vanished altogether; and the dish was
licked as clean as if Boxer the yard dog had been at it, in his
hungriest mood.
"And my white tablecloth--oh, my clean white tablecloth!
What can have been done to it?" cried she in amazement. For it
was all over little black footmarks, just the size of a baby's foot--
only babies don't wear shoes with nails in them, and don't run about
and climb on kitchen tables after all the family have gone to bed.
Cook was a little frightened; but her fright changed to anger
when she saw the large black cat stretched comfortably on the
hearth. Poor Muff had crept there for a little snooze after Brownie
went away.
"You nasty cat! I see it all now; it's you that have eaten up all
the supper; it's you that have been on my clean tablecloth with
your dirty paws."
They were white paws, and as clean as possible; but Cook never
thought of that, any more than she did of the fact that cats don't
usually drink cider or eat apple pudding.
"I'll teach you to come stealing food in this way; take that--
and that--and that!"
Cook got hold of a broom and beat poor Pussy till the creature ran
mewing away. She couldn't speak, you know--unfortunate cat!
and tell people that it was Brownie who had done it all.
Next night Cook thought she would make all safe and sure; so,
instead of letting the cat sleep by the fire, she shut her up in the
chilly coal cellar--locked the door, put the key in her pocket, and
went off to bed; leaving the supper as before.
When Brownie woke up and looked out of his hole, there was as
usual no supper for him, and the cellar was close shut. He peered
about, to try and find some cranny under the door to creep out at,
but there was none. And he felt so hungry that he could almost
have eaten the cat, who kept walking to and fro in a melancholy
manner--only she was alive, and he couldn't well eat her alive:--
besides he knew she was old, and had an idea she might be tough;
so he merely said, politely, "How do you do, Mrs. Pussy?" to
which she answered nothing--of course.
Something must be done, and luckily Brownies can do things
which nobody else can do. So he thought he would change himself
into a mouse, and gnaw a hole through the door. But then he suddenly
remembered the cat, who, though he had decided not to eat
her, might take this opportunity of eating him. So he thought it
advisable to wait till she was fast asleep, which did not happen for
a good while. At length, quite tired with walking about, Pussy
turned round on her tail six times, curled down in a corner, and fell
fast asleep.
Immediately Brownie changed himself into the smallest mouse
possible; and, taking care not to make the least noise, gnawed a hole
in the door, and squeezed himself through--immediately turning
into his proper shape again, for fear of accidents.
The kitchen fire was at its last glimmer; but it showed a better
supper than even last night, for the Cook had had friends with her,
a brother and two cousins, and they had been exceedingly merry.
The food they had left behind was enough for three Brownies at least,
but this one managed to eat it all up. Only once, in trying to cut
a great slice of beef, he let the carving knife and fork fall with
such a clatter, that Tiny the terrier, who was tied up at the foot of
the stairs, began to bark furiously. However, he brought her her
puppy, which had been left in a basket in a corner of the kitchen,
and so succeeded in quieting her.
After that he enjoyed himself amazingly, and made more marks
than ever on the white tablecloth--for he began jumping about
like a pea on a trencher, in order to make his particularly large
supper agree with him.
Then, in the absence of the cat, he teased the puppy for an hour
or two, till, hearing the clock strike five, he thought it as well to
turn into a mouse again, and creep back cautiously into his cellar.
He was only just in time, for Muff opened one eye, and was just
going to pounce upon him, when he changed himself back into a
Brownie. She was so startled that she bounded away, her tail growing
into twice its natural size, and her eyes gleaming like round
green globes. But Brownie only said, "Ha, ha, ho!" and walked
deliberately into his hole.
When Cook came downstairs and saw that the same thing had
happened again--that the supper was all eaten, and the tablecloth
blacker than ever with extraordinary footmarks, she was greatly
puzzled. Who could have done it all? Not the cat, who came mewing
out of the coal cellar the minute she unlocked the door. Possibly
a rat--but then would a rat have come within reach of Tiny?
"It must have been Tiny herself, or her puppy," which just came
rolling out of its basket over Cook's feet. "You little wretch! You
and your mother are the greatest nuisance imaginable. I'll punish
you!"
And quite forgetting that Tiny had been safely tied up all night,
and that her poor little puppy was so fat and helpless it could
scarcely stand on its legs--and so was unlikely to jump on chairs
and tables, she gave them both such a thrashing that they ran howling
together out of the kitchen door, where the kind little kitchen maid
took them up in her arms.
"You ought to have beaten the Brownie, if you could catch him,"
said she in a whisper. "He'll do it again and again, you'll see, for
he can't bear an untidy kitchen. You'd better do as poor old Cook
did, and clear the supper things away, and put the odds and ends
safe in the larder; also," she added mysteriously, "if I were you,
I'd put a bowl of milk behind the coal-cellar door."
"Nonsense!" answered the young Cook and flounced away. But
afterwards she thought better of it, and did as she was advised,
grumbling all the time, but doing it.
Next morning, the milk was gone! Perhaps Brownie had drunk
it up, anyhow nobody could say that he hadn't. As for the supper,
Cook having safely laid it on the shelves of the larder, nobody
touched it. And the tablecloth, which was wrapped up tidily and
put in the dresser drawer, came out as clean as ever, with not a
single black footmark upon it. No mischief being done, the cat
and the dog both escaped beating, and Brownie played no more
tricks with anybody--till the next time.
THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER; OR, THE BLACK BROTHERS
John Ruskin
CHAPTER I
HOW THE AGRICULTURAL SYSTEM OF THE BLACK BROTHERS WAS INTERFERED
WITH BY SOUTHWEST WIND, ESQUIRE
In a secluded and mountainous part of Stiria there was in old
time a valley of the most surprising and luxuriant fertility. It was
surrounded on all sides by steep and rocky mountains, rising into
peaks which were always covered with snow, and from which a
number of torrents descended in constant cataracts. One of these
fell westward over the face of a crag so high, that, when the sun had
set to everything else, and all below was darkness, his beams still
shone full upon this waterfall, so that it looked like a shower of
gold. It was, therefore, called by the people of the neighborhood,
the Golden River. It was strange that none of these streams fell
into the valley itself. They all descended on the other side of the
mountains, and wound away through broad plains and by populous
cities. But the clouds were drawn so constantly to the snowy hills,
and rested so softly in the circular hollow, that in time of drought
and heat, when all the country round was burnt up, there was still
rain in the little valley; and its crops were so heavy and its hay so
high, and its apples so red, and its grapes so blue, and its wine so
rich, and its honey so sweet, that it was a marvel to every one who
beheld it, and was commonly called the Treasure Valley.
The whole of this little valley belonged to three brothers called
Schwartz, Hans, and Gluck. Schwartz and Hans, the two elder
brothers, were very ugly men, with overhanging eyebrows and small
dull eyes, which were always half shut, so that you could not see
into _them_, and always fancied they saw very far into _you_.
They lived by farming the Treasure Valley, and very good farmers they
were. They killed everything that did not pay for its eating. They
shot the blackbirds, because they pecked the fruit; and killed the
hedgehogs, lest they should suck the cows; they poisoned the crickets
for eating the crumbs in the kitchen; and smothered the cicadas,
which used to sing all summer in the lime trees. They worked their
servants without any wages, till they would not work any more, and
then quarreled with them, and turned them out of doors without
paying them. It would have been very odd if with such a farm and
such a system of farming they hadn't got very rich; and very rich
they _did_ get. They generally contrived to keep their corn by them
till it was very dear, and then sell it for twice its value; they had
heaps of gold lying about on their floors, yet it was never known that
they had given so much as a penny or a crust in charity; they never
went to mass; grumbled perpetually at paying tithes; and were, in
a word, of so cruel and grinding a temper, as to receive from all those
with whom they had any dealings, the nickname of the "Black
Brothers."
The youngest brother, Gluck, was as completely opposed, in both
appearance and character, to his seniors as could possibly be
imagined or desired. He was not above twelve years old, fair, blue-eyed,
and kind in temper to every living thing. He did not, of
course, agree particularly well with his brothers, or rather, they
did not agree with _him_. He was usually appointed to the honorable
office of turnspit, when there was anything to roast, which was not
often; for, to do the brothers justice, they were hardly less sparing
upon themselves than upon other people. At other times he used
to clean the shoes, floors, and sometimes the plates, occasionally
getting what was left on them, by way of encouragement, and a
wholesome quantity of dry blows, by way of education.
Things went on in this manner for a long time. At last came
a very wet summer, and everything went wrong in the country around.
The hay had hardly been got in when the haystacks were floated
bodily down to the sea by an inundation; the vines were cut to pieces
with the hail; the corn was all killed by a black blight; only in
the Treasure Valley, as usual, all was safe. As it had rain when
there was rain nowhere else, so it had sun when there was sun nowhere
else. Everybody came to buy corn at the farm, and went away pouring
maledictions on the Black Brothers. They asked what they liked, and
got it, except from the poor people, who could only beg, and several
of whom were starved at their very door without the slightest regard
or notice.
It was drawing towards Winter, and very cold weather, when
one day the two elder brothers had gone out with their usual warning
to little Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let
nobody in and give nothing out. Gluck sat down quite close to the
fire, for it was raining very hard, and the kitchen walls were by
no means dry or comfortable looking. He turned and turned, and
the roast got nice and brown. "What a pity," thought Gluck, "my
brothers never ask anybody to dinner. I'm sure when they have
such a nice piece of mutton as this, and nobody else has got so much
as a piece of dry bread, it would do their hearts good to have somebody
to eat it with them."
Just as he spoke there came a double knock at the house door, yet
heavy and dull, as though the knocker had been tied up--more like
a puff than a knock.
"It must be the wind," said Gluck; "nobody else would venture to
knock double knocks at our door."
No; it wasn't the wind: there it came again very hard; and what
was particularly astounding, the knocker seemed to be in a hurry,
and not to be in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck
went to the window, opened it, and put his head out to see who it
was.
It was the most extraordinary-looking little gentleman he had
ever seen in his life. He had a very large nose, slightly
brass-colored; his cheeks were very round and very red, and might have
warranted a supposition that he had been blowing a refractory fire
for the last eight-and-forty hours; his eyes twinkled merrily through
long silky eyelashes, his mustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew
on each side of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious mixed
pepper-and-salt-color, descended far over his shoulders. He was
about four-feet-six in height, and wore a conical pointed cap of nearly
the same altitude, decorated with a black feather some three feet
long. His doublet was prolonged behind into something resembling
a violent exaggeration of what is now termed a "swallowtail," but
was much obscured by the swelling folds of an enormous black,
glossy-looking cloak, which must have been very much too long in
calm weather, as the wind, whistling round the old house, carried
it clear out from the wearer's shoulders to about four times his own
length.
Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the singular appearance of
his visitor that he remained fixed without uttering a word, until the
old gentleman, having performed another and a more energetic concerto
on the knocker, turned round to look after his fly-away cloak.
In so doing he caught sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed in
the window, with his mouth and eyes very wide-open indeed.
"Hollo!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer
the door: I'm wet, let me in."
To do the little gentleman justice, he _was_ wet. His feather hung
down between his legs like a beaten puppy's tail, dripping like an
umbrella; and from the ends of his mustaches the water was running
into his waistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill stream.
"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, "I'm very sorry, but I really
can't."
"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.
"I can't let you in, sir,--I can't indeed; my brothers would beat
me to death, sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want,
sir?"
"Want?" said the old gentleman, petulantly. "I want fire and
shelter; and there's your great fire there, blazing, crackling, and
dancing on the walls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say; I only
want to warm myself."
Gluck had had his head so long out of the window by this time
that he began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold, and when he
turned and saw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing
long, bright tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops
at the savory smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him
that it should be burning away for nothing. "He does look _very_
wet," said little Gluck; "I'll just let him in for a quarter of an hour."
Round he went to the door and opened it; and as the little gentleman
walked in there came a gust of wind through the house that made the
old chimneys totter.
"That's a good boy," said the little gentleman. "Never mind
your brothers. I'll talk to them."
"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let
you stay till they come: they'd be the death of me."
"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm very sorry to hear that.
How long may I stay?"
"Only till the mutton's done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very
brown."
Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen, and sat himself
down on the hob, with the top of his cap accommodated up the chimney,
for it was a great deal too high for the roof.
"You'll soon dry there, sir," said Gluck, and sat down again
to turn the mutton. But the old gentleman did _not_ dry there, but
went on drip, drip, dripping among the cinders, and the fire fizzed,
and sputtered, and began to look very black and uncomfortable.
Never was such a cloak; every fold in it ran like a gutter.
"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck at length, after watching the
water spreading in long, quicksilver-like streams over the floor for a
quarter of an hour; "mayn't I take your cloak?"
"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.
"Your cap, sir?"
"I am all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather
gruffly.
"But,--sir,--I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly; "but--really,
sir,--you're--putting the fire out."
"It'll take longer to do the mutton, then," replied his visitor
dryly.
Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest; it was
such a strange mixture of coolness and humility. He turned away
at the string meditatively for another five minutes.
"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman at length.
"Can't you give me a little bit?"
"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.
"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had nothing
to eat yesterday nor today. They surely couldn't miss a bit
from the knuckle!"
He spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it quite melted Gluck's
heart. "They promised me one slice today, sir," said he; "I can
give you that, but not a bit more."
"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.
Then Gluck warmed a plate, and sharpened a knife. "I don't
care if I do get beaten for it." thought he. Just as he had cut a large
slice out of the mutton, there came a tremendous rap at the door.
The old gentleman jumped off the hob, as if it had suddenly
become inconveniently warm. Gluck fitted the slice into the
mutton again, with desperate efforts at exactitude, and ran to open
the door.
"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as
he walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face. "Ay! what
for, indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering an
educational box on the ear, as he followed his brother into the
kitchen.
"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.
"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and
was standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost
possible velocity.
"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning
to Gluck with a fierce frown.
"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great terror.
"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.
"My dear brother," said Gluck, deprecatingly, "he was so
_very_ wet!"
The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but at the instant
the old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it
crashed with a shock that shook the water out of it all over the room.
What was very odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap than
it flew out of Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind,
and fell into the corner at the farther end of the room.
"Who are you, sir?" demanded Schwartz, turning upon him.
"What's your business?" snarled Hans.
"I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began very
modestly, "and I saw your fire through the window, and begged
shelter for a quarter of an hour."
"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz.
"We've quite enough water in our kitchen without making it a
drying-house."
"It is a cold day to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my gray
hairs." They hung down to his shoulders, as I told you before.
"Ay!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm.
Walk!"
"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread
before I go?"
"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing
to do with our bread but to give it to such red-nosed fellows as
you?"
"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly.
"Out with you!"
"A little bit," said the old gentleman.
"Be off!" said Schwartz.
"Pray, gentlemen--"
"Off, and be hanged!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar.
But he had no sooner touched the old gentleman's collar, than
away he went after the rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till
he fell into the corner on the top of it. Then Schwartz was very
angry, and ran at the old gentleman to turn him out; but he also
had hardly touched him, when away he went after Hans and the
rolling-pin, and hit his head against the wall as he tumbled into the
corner. And so there they lay, all three.
Then the old gentleman spun himself round with velocity in the
opposite direction; continued to spin until his long cloak was all
wound neatly about him: clapped his cap on his head, very much on
one side (for it could not stand upright without going through the
ceiling), gave an additional twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and
replied with perfect coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very
good morning. At twelve o'clock tonight I'll call again; after such
a refusal of hospitality as I have just experienced, you will not be
surprised if that visit is the last I ever pay you."
"If ever I catch you here again," muttered Schwartz, coming,
half frightened, out of the corner--but, before he could finish his
sentence, the old gentleman had shut the house door behind him with
a great bang: and there drove past the window, at the same instant,
a wreath of ragged cloud, that whirled and rolled away down the
valley in all manner of shapes; turning over and over in the air,
and melting away at last in a gush of rain.
"A very pretty business, indeed, Mr. Gluck!" said Schwartz.
"Dish the mutton, sir. If ever I catch you at such a trick again
--bless me, why, the mutton's been cut!"
"You promised me one slice, brother, you know," said Gluck.
"Oh! and you were cutting it hot, I suppose, and going to catch
all the gravy. It'll be long before I promise you such a thing
again. Leave the room, sir; and have the kindness to wait in the
coal cellar till I call you."
Gluck left the room, melancholy enough. The brothers ate as
much mutton as they could, locked the rest into the cupboard, and
proceeded to get very drunk after dinner.
Such a night as it was! Howling wind, and rushing rain, without
intermission. The brothers had just sense enough left to put up
all the shutters, and double-bar the door, before they went to bed.
They usually slept in the same room. As the clock struck twelve,
they were both awakened by a tremendous crash. Their door burst
open with a violence that shook the house from top to bottom.
"What's that?" cried Schwartz, starting up in his bed.
"Only I," said the little gentleman.
The two brothers sat up on their bolster, and stared into the
darkness. The room was full of water; and by a misty moonbeam,
which found its way through a hole in the shutter, they could see in
the midst of it an enormous foam globe, spinning round, and bobbing
up and down like a cork, on which, as on a most luxurious
cushion, reclined the little old gentleman, cap and all. There
was plenty of room for it now, for the roof was off.
"Sorry to incommode you," said their visitor, ironically. "I'm
afraid your beds are dampish; perhaps you had better go to your
brother's room: I've left the ceiling on there."
They required no second admonition, but rushed into Gluck's
room, wet through, and in an agony of terror.
"You'll find my card on the kitchen table," the old gentleman
called after them. "Remember, the _last_ visit."
"Pray Heaven it may!" said Schwartz, shuddering. And the
foam globe disappeared.
Dawn came at last, and the two brothers looked out of Gluck's
little window in the morning. The Treasure Valley was one mass
of ruin and desolation. The inundation had swept away trees,
crops, and cattle, and left in their stead a waste of red sand and
gray mud. The two brothers crept shivering and horror-struck into
the kitchen. The water had gutted the whole first floor; corn, money,
almost every movable thing had been swept away, and there was
left only a small white card on the kitchen table. On it, in large,
breezy, long-legged letters, were engraved the words:
_SOUTHWEST WIND, ESQUIRE_
CHAPTER II
OF THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE THREE BROTHERS AFTER THE VISIT OF SOUTHWEST
WIND, ESQUIRE; AND HOW LITTLE GLUCK HAD AN INTERVIEW WITH THE KING OF
THE GOLDEN RIVER
Southwest 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.
"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 alehouse 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 from 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 alehouse, 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.
"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. Upstairs, and downstairs. 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
akimbo, 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.
"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 colors gleamed over it, as if on a surface
of mother of pearl; and over this brilliant doublet his hair and beard
fell full halfway 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
inclined 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 dwarf's
observations out of the pot; but whatever it referred to, Gluck had
no inclination to dispute what he said.
"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 center 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!"
CHAPTER III
HOW MR. HANS SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE GOLDEN RIVER, AND HOW
HE PROSPERED THEREIN
The King of the Golden River had hardly made the extraordinary
exit related in the last chapter before Hans and Schwartz came
roaring into the house very savagely drunk. The discovery of the
total loss of their last piece of plate had the effect of sobering
them just enough to enable them to stand over Gluck, beating him
very steadily for a quarter of an hour; at the expiration of which
period they dropped into a couple of chairs, and requested to know
what he had got to say for himself. Gluck told them his story, of
which, of course, they did not believe a word. They beat him again,
till their arms were tired, and staggered to bed. In the morning,
however, the steadiness with which he adhered to his story obtained
him some degree of credence; the immediate consequence of which was
that the two brothers, after wrangling a long time on the knotty
question, Which of them should try his fortune first, drew their
swords and began fighting. The noise of the fray alarmed the
neighbors, who, finding they could not pacify the combatants, sent
for the constable.
Hans, on hearing this, contrived to escape, and hid himself; but
Schwartz was taken before the magistrate, fined for breaking the
peace, and having drunk out his last penny the evening before, was
thrown into prison till he should pay.
When Hans heard this, he was much delighted, and determined
to set out immediately for the Golden River. How to get the holy
water was the question. He went to the priest, but the priest could
not give any holy water to so abandoned a character. So Hans went
to vespers in the evening for the first time in his life, and, under
pretense of crossing himself, stole a cupful and returned home in
triumph.
Next morning he got up before the sun rose, put the holy water
into a strong flask, and two bottles of wine and some meat in a
basket, slung them over his back, took his alpine staff in his hand,
and set off for the mountains.
On his way out of the town he had to pass the prison, and as he
looked in at the windows, whom should he see but Schwartz himself
peeping out of the bars, and looking very disconsolate.
"Good morning, brother," said Hans; "have you any message
for the King of the Golden River?"
Schwartz gnashed his teeth with rage, and shook the bars with
all his strength; but Hans only laughed at him, and advising him
to make himself comfortable till he came back again, shouldered his
basket, shook the bottle of holy water in Schwartz's face till it
frothed again, and marched off in the highest spirits in the world.
It was indeed a morning that might have made any one happy,
even with no Golden River to seek for. Level lines of dewy mist
lay stretched along the valley, out of which rose the massy mountains
--their lower cliffs in pale gray shadow, hardly distinguishable
from the floating vapor, but gradually ascending till they caught
the sunlight, which ran in sharp touches of ruddy color along the
angular crags, and pierced, in long level rays, through their fringes
of spear-like pine. Far above, shot up red splintered masses of
castellated rock, jagged and shivered into myriads of fantastic forms,
with here and there a streak of sunlit snow, traced down their chasms
like a line of forked lightning; and far beyond and above all these,
fainter than the morning cloud, but purer and changeless, slept in
the blue sky the utmost peaks of the eternal snow.
The Golden River, which sprang from one of the lower and snowless
elevations, was now nearly in shadow; all but the uppermost jets
of spray, which rose like slow smoke above the undulating line of the
cataract, and floated away in feeble wreaths upon the morning wind.
On this object, and on this alone, Hans' eyes and thoughts were
fixed; forgetting the distance he had to traverse, he set off at an
imprudent rate of walking, which greatly exhausted him before he
had scaled the first range of the green and low hills. He was,
moreover, surprised on surmounting them, to find that a large glacier,
of whose existence, notwithstanding his previous knowledge of the
mountains, he had been absolutely ignorant, lay between him and
the source of the Golden River. He mounted it though, with the
boldness of a practiced mountaineer; yet he thought he had never
traversed so strange or so dangerous a glacier in his life. The ice
was excessively slippery, and out of all its chasms came wild sounds
of gushing water; not monotonous or low, but changeful and loud,
rising occasionally into drifting passages of wild melody, then
breaking off into short melancholy tones, or sudden shrieks, resembling
those of human voices in distress or pain. The ice was broken into
thousands of confused shapes, but none, Hans thought, like the ordinary
forms of splintered ice. There seemed a curious _expression_ about
all their outlines--a perpetual resemblance to living features,
distorted and scornful. Myriads of deceitful shadows, and lurid lights,
played and floated about and through the pale blue pinnacles, dazzling
and confusing the sight of the traveler; while his ears grew dull and
his head giddy with the constant gush and roar of the concealed waters.
These painful circumstances increased upon him as he advanced; the ice
crashed and yawned into fresh chasms at his feet, tottering spires
nodded around him, and fell thundering across his path; and though he
had repeatedly faced these dangers on the most terrific glaciers, and
in the wildest weather, it was with a new and oppressive feeling of
panic terror that he leaped the last chasm, and flung himself,
exhausted and shuddering, on the firm turf of the mountain.
He had been compelled to abandon his basket of food, which
became a perilous incumbrance on the glacier, and had now no
means of refreshing himself but by breaking off and eating some of
the pieces of ice. This, however, relieved his thirst; an hour's
repose recruited his hardy frame, and with the indomitable spirit of
avarice, he resumed his laborious journey.
His way now lay straight up a ridge of bare red rocks, without
a blade of grass to ease the foot, or a projecting angle to afford
an inch of shade from the south sun. It was past noon, and the
rays beat intensely upon the steep path, while the whole atmosphere
was motionless, and penetrated with heat. Intense thirst was soon
added to the bodily fatigue with which Hans was now afflicted; glance
after glance he cast at the flask of water which hung at his belt.
"Three drops are enough," at last thought he; "I may, at least,
cool my lips with it."
He opened the flask, and was raising it to his lips, when his eye
fell on an object lying on the rock beside him; he thought it moved.
It was a small dog, apparently in the last agony of death from thirst.
Its tongue was out, its jaws dry, its limbs extended lifelessly, and
a swarm of black ants were crawling about its lips and throat. Its eye
moved to the bottle which Hans held in his hand. He raised it,
drank, spurned the animal with his foot, and passed on. And he
did not know how it was, but he thought that a strange shadow had
suddenly come across the blue sky.
The path became steeper and more rugged every moment; and the
high hill air, instead of refreshing him, seemed to throw his blood
into a fever. The noise of the hill cataracts sounded like mockery
in his ears; they were all distant, and his thirst increased every
moment. Another hour passed, and he again looked down to the
flask at his side; it was half empty, but there was much more than
three drops in it. He stopped to open it, and again, as he did so,
something moved in the path above him. It was a fair child,
stretched nearly lifeless on the rock, its breast heaving with thirst,
its eyes closed, and its lips parched and burning. Hans eyed it
deliberately, drank, and passed on. And a dark gray cloud came
over the sun, and long, snake-like shadows crept up along the mountain
sides. Hans struggled on. The sun was sinking, but its descent
seemed to bring no coolness; the leaden weight of the dead air
pressed upon his brow and heart, but the goal was near. He saw
the cataract of the Golden River springing from the hillside, scarcely
five hundred feet above him. He paused for a moment to breathe,
and sprang on to complete his task.
At this instant a faint cry fell on his ear. He turned, and saw a
gray-haired old man extended on the rocks. His eyes were sunk,
his features deadly pale, and gathered into an expression of despair.
"Water!" he stretched his arms to Hans, and cried feebly, "Water!
I am dying."
"I have none," replied Hans; "thou hast had thy share of life."
He strode over the prostrate body, and darted on. And a flash of
blue lightning rose out of the east, shaped like a sword; it shook
thrice over the whole heaven, and left it dark with one heavy,
impenetrable shade. The sun was setting; it plunged towards the
horizon like a red-hot ball.
The roar of the Golden River rose on Hans' ear. He stood at the
brink of the chasm through which it ran. Its waves were filled with
the red glory of the sunset; they shook their crests like tongues
of fire, and flashes of bloody light gleamed along their foam. Their
sound came mightier and mightier on his senses; his brain grew
giddy with the prolonged thunder. Shuddering, he drew the flask
from his girdle, and hurled it into the center of the torrent. As he
did so, an icy chill shot through his limbs; he staggered, shrieked,
and fell. The waters closed over his cry. And the moaning of
the river rose wildly into the night, as it gushed over THE BLACK
STONE.
CHAPTER IV
HOW MR. SCHWARTZ SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE GOLDEN RIVER, AND HOW
HE PROSPERED THEREIN
Poor little Gluck waited very anxiously alone in the house for
Hans' return. Finding he did not come back, he was terribly frightened,
and went and told Schwartz in the prison all that had happened.
Then Schwartz was very much pleased, and said that Hans
must certainly have been turned into a black stone, and he should
have all the gold to himself. But Gluck was very sorry, and cried
all night. When he got up in the morning, there was no bread in
the house, nor any money; so Gluck went and hired himself to another
goldsmith, and he worked so hard, and so neatly, and so long
every day, that he soon got money enough together to pay his
brother's fine, and he went and gave it all to Schwartz, and Schwartz
got out of prison. Then Schwartz was quite pleased, and said he
should have some of the gold of the river. But Gluck only begged
he would go and see what had become of Hans.
Now, when Schwartz had heard that Hans had stolen the holy
water, he thought to himself that such a proceeding might not be
considered altogether correct by the King of the Golden River, and
determined to manage matters better. So he took some more of
Gluck's money, and went to a bad priest, who gave him some holy
water very readily for it. Then Schwartz was sure it was all quite
right. So Schwartz got up early in the morning before the sun rose,
and took some bread and wine in a basket, and put his holy water in
a flask, and set off for the mountains. Like his brother, he was
much surprised at the sight of the glacier, and had great difficulty
in crossing it, even after leaving his basket behind him. The day was
cloudless, but not bright; there was a heavy purple haze hanging
over the sky, and the hills looked lowering and gloomy. And as
Schwartz climbed the steep rock path, the thirst came upon him, as
it had upon his brother, until he lifted his flask to his lips to drink.
Then he saw the fair child lying near him on the rocks, and it
cried to him, and moaned for water. "Water, indeed," said
Schwartz; "I haven't half enough for myself," and passed on. And
as he went he thought the sunbeams grew more dim, and he saw a
low bank of black cloud rising out of the west; and when he had
climbed for another hour the thirst overcame him again, and he
would have drunk. Then he saw the old man lying before him on
the path, and heard him cry out for water. "Water, indeed," said
Schwartz; "I haven't half enough for myself," and on he went.
Then again the light seemed to fade from before his eyes, and
he looked up, and, behold, a mist, of the color of blood, had come
over the sun; and the bank of black cloud had risen very high,
and its edges were tossing and tumbling like the waves of the angry
sea. And they cast long shadows, which flickered over Schwartz's
path.
Then Schwartz climbed for another hour, and again his thirst
returned; and as he lifted his flask to his lips, he thought he saw
his brother Hans lying exhausted on the path before him, and, as he
gazed, the figure stretched its arms to him, and cried for water.
"Ha, ha," laughed Schwartz, "are you there? remember the prison
bars, my boy. Water, indeed--do you suppose I carried it all the
way up here for _you_!" And he strode over the figure; yet, as
he passed, he thought he saw a strange expression of mockery about
its lips. And, when he had gone a few yards farther, he looked back;
but the figure was not there.
And a sudden horror came over Schwartz, he knew not why; but
the thirst for gold prevailed over his fear, and he rushed on. And
the bank of black cloud rose to the zenith, and out of it came bursts
of spiry lightning, and waves of darkness seemed to heave and float
between their flashes, over the whole heavens. And the sky, where
the sun was setting, was all level, and like a lake of blood; and a
strong wind came out of that sky, tearing its crimson clouds into
fragments, and scattering them far into the darkness. And, when
Schwartz stood by the brink of the Golden River, its waves were
black, like thunder clouds, but their foam was like fire; and the roar
of the waters below and the thunder above, met, as he cast the flask
into the stream. And, as he did so, the lightning glared in his eyes,
and the earth gave way beneath him, and the waters closed over his
cry. And the moaning of the river rose wildly into the night, as it
gushed over the TWO BLACK STONES.
CHAPTER V
HOW LITTLE GLUCK SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE GOLDEN RIVER, AND HOW
HE PROSPERED THEREIN; WITH OTHER MATTERS OF INTEREST
When Gluck found that Schwartz did not come back, he was very
sorry, and did not know what to do. He had no money, and he was
obliged to go and hire himself again to the goldsmith, who worked
him very hard, and gave him very little money. So, after a month
or two, Gluck grew tired, and made up his mind to go and try his
fortune with the Golden River. "The little king looked very kind,"
thought he. "I don't think he will turn me into a black stone." So
he went to the priest, and the priest gave him some holy water
as soon as he asked for it. Then Gluck took some bread in his
basket, and the bottle of water, and set off very early for the mountains.
If the glacier had occasioned a great deal of fatigue to his brothers,
it was twenty times worse for him, who was neither so strong nor so
practiced on the mountains. He had several very bad falls, lost his
basket and bread, and was very much frightened at the strange
noises under the ice. He lay a long time to rest on the grass, after
he had got over, and began to climb the hill just in the hottest part
of the day. When he had climbed for an hour, he got dreadfully
thirsty, and was going to drink, like his brothers, when he saw an
old man coming down the path above him, looking very feeble,
and leaning on a staff. "My son," said the old man, "I am faint
with thirst, give me some of that water." Then Gluck looked at him,
and when he saw that he was pale and weary, he gave him the water;
"Only, pray, don't drink it all," said Gluck. But the old man drank
a great deal, and gave him back the bottle two-thirds empty. Then
he bade him good speed, and Gluck went on again merrily. And
the path became easier to his feet, and two or three blades of grass
appeared upon it, and some grasshoppers began singing on the bank
beside it; and Gluck thought he had never heard such merry singing.
Then he went on for another hour, and the thirst increased on him
so that he thought he should be forced to drink. But, as he raised
the flask, he saw a little child lying panting by the roadside, and
it cried out piteously for water. Then Gluck struggled with himself,
and determined to bear the thirst a little longer; and he put
the bottle to the child's lips, and it drank it all but a few drops.
Then it smiled on him, and got up, and ran down the hill; and
Gluck looked after it, till it became as small as a little star, and
then turned and began climbing again. And then there were all
kinds of sweet flowers growing on the rocks, bright green moss with
pale pink starry flowers, and soft belled gentians more blue than
the sky at its deepest, and pure white transparent lilies. And crimson
and purple butterflies darted hither and thither, and the sky
sent down such pure light, that Gluck had never felt so happy in his
life.
Yet, when he had climbed for another hour, his thirst became
intolerable again; and, when he looked at his bottle, he saw that
there were only five or six drops left in it, and he could not venture
to drink. And, as he was hanging the flask to his belt again, he saw
a little dog lying on the rocks, gasping for breath--just as Hans
had seen it on the day of his ascent. And Gluck stopped and looked
at it, and then at the Golden River, not five hundred yards above him;
and he thought of the dwarf's word, "that no one could succeed,
except in his first attempt"; and he tried to pass the dog, but it
whined piteously, and Gluck stopped again. "Poor beastie," said
Gluck, "it'll be dead when I come down again, if I don't help it."
Then he looked closer and closer at it, and its eye turned on him so
mournfully, that he could not stand it. "Confound the King, and
his gold too," said Gluck; and he opened the flask, and poured all
the water into the dog's mouth.
The dog sprang up and stood on its hind legs. Its tail disappeared,
its ears became long, longer, silky, golden; its nose became
very red, its eyes became very twinkling; in three seconds the dog
was gone, and before Gluck stood his old acquaintance, the King
of the Golden River.
"Thank you," said the monarch; "but don't be frightened, it's
all right"; for Gluck showed manifest symptoms of consternation
at this unlooked-for reply to his last observation. "Why didn't you
come before," continued the dwarf, "instead of sending me those
rascally brothers of yours, for me to have the trouble of turning
into stones? Very hard stones they make too."
"Oh, dear me!" said Gluck, "have you really been so cruel?"
"Cruel!" said the dwarf; "they poured unholy water into my
stream: do you suppose I'm going to allow that?"
"Why," said Gluck, "I am sure, sir--your Majesty, I mean--they
got the water out of the church font."
"Very probably," replied the dwarf; "but," and his countenance
grew stern as he spoke, "the water which has been refused to the cry
of the weary and dying, is unholy, though it had been blessed by
every saint in heaven; and the water which is found in the vessel
of mercy is holy, though it had been defiled with corpses."
So saying, the dwarf stooped and plucked a lily that grew at
his feet. On its white leaves there hung three drops of clear dew.
And the dwarf shook them into the flask which Gluck held in his
hand. "Cast these into the river," he said, "and descend on the
other side of the mountains into the Treasure Valley. And so good
speed."
As he spoke, the figure of the dwarf became indistinct. The
playing colors of his robe formed themselves into a prismatic mist
of dewy light; he stood for an instant veiled with them as with the
belt of a broad rainbow. The colors grew faint, the mist rose into
the air; the monarch had evaporated.
And Gluck climbed to the brink of the Golden River, and its waves
were as clear as crystal, and as brilliant as the sun. And, when he
cast the three drops of dew into the stream, there opened where
they fell a small circular whirlpool, into which the waters descended
with a musical noise.
Gluck stood watching it for some time, very much disappointed,
because not only the river was not turned into gold, but its waters
seemed much diminished in quantity. Yet he obeyed his friend
the dwarf, and descended the other side of the mountains, toward the
Treasure Valley; and, as he went, he thought he heard the noise of
water working its way under the ground. And, when he came in
sight of the Treasure Valley, behold, a river, like the Golden River,
was springing from a new cleft of the rocks above it, and was flowing
in innumerable streams among the dry heaps of red sand.
And as Gluck gazed, fresh grass sprang beside the new streams,
and creeping plants grew, and climbed among the moistening soil.
Young flowers opened suddenly along the river sides, as stars leap
out when twilight is deepening, and thickets of myrtle, and tendrils
of vine, cast lengthening shadows over the valley as they grew.
And thus the Treasure Valley became a garden again, and the inheritance
which had been lost by cruelty was regained by love.
And Gluck went and dwelt in the valley, and the poor were never
driven from his door: so that his barns became full of corn, and his
house of treasure. And, for him, the river had, according to the
dwarf's promise, become a River of Gold.
And, to this day, the inhabitants of the valley point out the place
where the three drops of holy dew were cast into the stream, and
trace the course of the Golden River under the ground, until it
emerges in the Treasure Valley. And at the top of the cataract
of the Golden River are still to be seen TWO BLACK STONES, round
which the waters howl mournfully every day at sunset; and these
stones are still called by the people of the valley THE BLACK
BROTHERS.
THE ORIENTAL WONDER STORY
THE STORY OF ALADDIN; OR, THE WONDERFUL LAMP
In the capital of one of the large and rich provinces of the kingdom of
China, the name of which I do not recollect, there lived a tailor,
named Mustapha, who was so poor, that he could hardly, by his daily
labor, maintain himself and his family, which consisted of a wife and
son.
His son, who was called Aladdin, had been brought up in a very careless
and idle manner, and by that means had contracted many vicious habits.
He was wicked, obstinate, and disobedient to his father and mother,
who, when he grew up, could not keep him within doors. He was in the
habit of going out early in the morning, and would stay out all day,
playing in the streets and public places with idle children of his own
age.
When he was old enough to learn a trade, his father, not being able to
put him out to any other, took him into his own shop, and taught him
how to use his needle; but neither fair words nor the fear of
chastisement were capable of fixing his lively genius. All his father's
endeavors to keep him to his work were in vain; for no sooner was his
back turned, than he was gone for the day. Mustapha chastised him, but
Aladdin was incorrigible and his father, to his great grief, was forced
to abandon him to his idleness: and was so much troubled at not being
able to reclaim him, that it threw him into a fit of sickness, of which
he died in a few months.
The mother, finding that her son would not follow his father's
business, shut up the shop, sold off the implements of trade, and with
the money she received for them, and what she could get by spinning
cotton, thought to maintain herself and her son.
Aladdin, who was now no longer restrained by the fear of a father, and
who cared so little for his mother, that whenever she chid him, he
would abuse her, gave himself entirely over to his idle habits, and was
never out of the streets from his companions. This course he followed
till he was fifteen years old, without giving his mind to any useful
pursuit, or the least reflection on what would become of him. In this
situation, as he was one day playing according to custom, in the
street, with his vagabond associates, a stranger passing by stood to
observe him.
This stranger was a sorcerer, called by the writer of this story, the
African magician; and by the name I shall call him with the more
propriety as he was a native of Africa, and had been but two days
arrived from thence.
The African magician, who was a good physiognomist, observing in
Aladdin's countenance something absolutely necessary for the execution
of the design he was engaged in, inquired artfully about his family,
who he was, and what were his inclinations; and when he had learned all
he desired to know, went up to him, and taking him aside from his
comrades, said, "Child, was not your father called Mustapha the
tailor?" "Yes, sir," answered the boy; "but he has been dead a long
time."
At these words, the African magician threw his arms about Aladdin's
neck, and kissed him several times with tears in his eyes. Aladdin, who
observed his tears, asked him what made him weep. "Alas! my son," cried
the African magician with a sigh, "how can I forbear? I am your uncle;
your worthy father was my own brother. I have been many years abroad,
and now I am come home with the hopes of seeing him, you tell me he is
dead. I assure you it is a sensible grief to me to be deprived of the
comfort I expected. But it is some relief to my affliction, that as far
as I can remember him, I knew you at first sight, you are so like him;
and I see I am not deceived." Then he asked Aladdin, putting his hand
into his purse, where his mother lived, and as soon as he had informed
him, gave him a handful of small money, saying, "Go, my son, to your
mother, give my love to her, and tell her that I will visit her
tomorrow, if I have time, that I may have the satisfaction of seeing
where my good brother lived so long, and ended his days."
As soon as the African magician left his newly adopted nephew, Aladdin
ran to his mother, overjoyed at the money his uncle had given him.
"Mother," said he, "have I an uncle?" "No, child," replied his mother,
"you have no uncle by your father's side, or mine." "I am just now
come," said Aladdin, "from a man who says he is my uncle by my father's
side, assuring me that he is his brother. He cried and kissed me when I
told him my father was dead; and to show you that what I tell you is
truth," he added, pulling out the money, "see what he has given me; he
charged me to give his love to you, and to tell you, if he has any time
tomorrow, he will come and pay you a visit, that he may see the house
my father lived and died in." "Indeed, child," replied the mother,
"your father had a brother, but he has been dead a long time, and I
never heard of another."
The mother and son talked no more then of the African magician; but the
next day Aladdin's uncle found him playing in another part of the town
with other children, and embracing him as before, put two pieces of
gold into his hand, and said to him, "Carry this, child, to your
mother, tell her that I will come and see her tonight, and bid her get
us something for supper; but first show me the house where you live."
After Aladdin had showed the African magician the house, he carried the
two pieces of gold to his mother, and when he had told her of his
uncle's intention, she went out and bought provisions; and considering
she wanted various utensils, borrowed them of her neighbors. She spent
the whole day in preparing the supper; and at night when it was ready,
said to her son, "Perhaps your uncle knows not how to find our house;
go and bring him if you meet with him."
Though Aladdin had shown the magician the house, he was ready to go,
when somebody knocked at the door, which he immediately opened: and the
magician came in loaded with wine, and all sorts of fruits, which he
brought for a dessert.
After the African magician had given what he brought into Aladdin's
hands, he saluted his mother, and desired her to show him the place
where his brother Mustapha used to sit on the sofa; and when she had so
done, he fell down and kissed it several times, crying out with tears
in his eyes, "My poor brother! how unhappy am I, not to have come soon
enough to give you one last embrace." Aladdin's mother desired him to
sit down in the same place, but he declined. "No," said he, "I shall
take care how I do that; but give me leave to sit opposite to it, that
although I am deprived of the satisfaction of seeing the master of a
family so dear to me, I may at least have the pleasure of beholding the
place where he used to sit." The widow pressed him no farther, but left
him at liberty to sit where he pleased.
When the magician had made choice of a place, and sat down, he began to
enter into discourse with Aladdin's mother: "My good sister," said he,
"do not be surprised at your never having seen me all the time you have
been married to my brother Mustapha of happy memory. I have been forty
years absent from this country, which is my native place, as well as my
late brother's; and during that time have traveled into the Indies,
Persia, Arabia, Syria, and Egypt, have resided in the finest towns of
those countries; and afterwards crossed over into Africa, where I made
a longer stay. At last, as it is natural for a man, how distant soever
it may be, to remember his native country, relations, and acquaintance,
I was desirous to see mine again, and to embrace my dear brother; and
finding I had strength enough to undertake so long a journey, I
immediately made the necessary preparations, and set out. I will not
tell you the length of time it took me, all the obstacles I met with,
and what fatigues I have endured, to come hither; but nothing ever
mortified and afflicted me so much, as hearing of my brother's death,
for whom I always had a brotherly love and friendship. I observed his
features in the face of my nephew, your son, and distinguished him
among a number of children with whom he was at play; he can tell you
how I received the most melancholy news that ever reached my ears. But
God be praised for all things! It is a comfort for me to find, as it
were, my brother in a son, who has his most remarkable features."
The African magician, perceiving that the widow began to weep at the
remembrance of her husband, changed the conversation, and turning
towards her son, asked him his name. "I am called Aladdin," said he.
"Well, Aladdin," replied the magician, "what business do you follow?
Are you of any trade?"
At this question the youth hung down his head, and was not a little
abashed when his mother answered, "Aladdin is an idle fellow; his
father, when alive, strove all he could to teach him his trade, but
could not succeed; and since his death, notwithstanding all I can say
to him, he does nothing but idle away his time in the street, as you
saw him, without considering he is no longer a child; and if you do not
make him ashamed of it, I despair of his ever coming to any good. He
knows that his father left him no fortune, and sees me endeavor to get
bread by spinning cotton; for my part, I am resolved one of these days
to turn him out of doors and let him provide for himself."
After these words, Aladdin's mother burst into tears; and the magician
said, "This is not well, nephew; you must think of helping yourself,
and getting your livelihood. There are many sorts of trades, consider
if you have not an inclination to some of them; perhaps you did not
like your father's, and would prefer another: come, do not disguise
your sentiments from me; I will endeavor to help you." But finding that
Aladdin returned no answer, "If you have no mind," continued he, "to
learn any handicraft, I will take a shop for you, furnish it with all
sorts of fine stuffs and linens; and with the money you make of them
lay in fresh goods and then you will live in an honorable way. Consult
your inclinations, and tell me freely what you think of my proposal:
you shall always find me ready to keep my word."
This plan greatly flattered Aladdin, who hated work, but had sense
enough to know that such shops were much frequented, and the owners
respected. He told the magician he had a greater inclination to that
business than to any other, and that he should be much obliged to him
for his kindness. "Since this profession is agreeable to you," said the
African magician, "I will carry you with me tomorrow, clothe you as
handsomely as the best merchants in the city, and afterwards we will
think of opening a shop as I mentioned."
The widow, who never till then could believe that the magician was her
husband's brother, no longer doubted after his promises of kindness to
her son. She thanked him for his good intentions; and after having
exhorted Aladdin to render himself worthy of his uncle's favor by good
behavior, served up supper, at which they talked of several indifferent
matters; and then the magician, who saw that the night was pretty far
advanced, took his leave, and retired.
He came again the next day, as he had promised, and took Aladdin with
him to a merchant, who sold all sorts of clothes for different ages and
ranks ready made, and a variety of fine stuffs. He asked to see some
that suited Aladdin in size; and after choosing a suit for himself
which he liked best, and rejecting others which he did not think
handsome enough, he bade Aladdin choose the one he preferred. Aladdin,
charmed with the liberality of his new uncle, made choice of one, and
the magician immediately paid for it.
When Aladdin found himself so handsomely equipped, he returned his
uncle thanks; who promised never to forsake him, but always to take him
along with him; which he did to the most frequented places in the city,
and particularly where the principal merchants kept their shops. When
he brought him into the street where they sold the richest stuffs, and
finest linens, he said to Aladdin, "As you are soon to be a merchant,
it is proper you should frequent these shops, and be acquainted with
them." He then showed him the largest and finest mosques, carried him
to the khans or inns where the merchants and travelers lodged, and
afterwards to the sultan's palace, where he had free access; and at
last brought him to his own khan, where meeting with some merchants he
had become acquainted with since his arrival, he gave them a treat, to
bring them and his pretended nephew acquainted.
This entertainment lasted till night, when Aladdin would have taken
leave of his uncle to go home; the magician would not let him go by
himself, but conducted him to his mother, who, as soon as she saw him
so well dressed, was transported with joy, and bestowed a thousand
blessings upon the magician, for being at so great an expense upon her
child. "Generous relation!" said she, "I know not how to thank you for
your liberality! I know that my son is not deserving of your favors;
and were he ever so grateful, and answered your good intentions, he
would be unworthy of them. I thank you with all my soul, and wish you
may live long enough to witness my son's gratitude, which he cannot
better show than by regulating his conduct by your good advice."
"Aladdin," replied the magician, "is a good boy, and I believe we shall
do very well; but I am sorry for one thing, which is, that I cannot
perform tomorrow what I promised, because, as it is Friday, the shops
will be shut up, and therefore we cannot hire or furnish one, but must
wait till Saturday. I will, however, call on him tomorrow and take him
to walk in the gardens, where people of the best fashion generally
resort. Perhaps he has never seen these amusements, he has only
hitherto been among children; but now he must see men." The African
magician took his leave of the mother and the son, and retired.
Aladdin, who was overjoyed to be so well clothed, anticipated the
pleasure of walking in the gardens. He had never been out of the town,
nor seen the environs, which were very beautiful and pleasant.
Aladdin rose early the next morning, dressed himself, to be ready
against his uncle called on him; and after he had waited some time,
began to be impatient, and stood watching at the door; but as soon as
he perceived him coming, he told his mother, took his leave of her, and
ran to meet him.
The magician caressed Aladdin, and said, "Come, my dear child, and I
will show you fine things." He then led him out at one of the gates of
the city, to some magnificent houses, or rather palaces, to each of
which belonged beautiful gardens, into which anybody might enter. At
every building he came to, he asked Aladdin if he did not think it
fine; and the youth was ready to answer when any one presented itself,
crying out, "Here is a finer house, uncle, than we have seen yet." By
this artifice, the cunning magician led Aladdin some way into the
country; and as he meant to carry him farther, to execute his design,
he took an opportunity to sit down in one of the gardens on the brink
of a fountain of clear water, which discharged itself by a lion's mouth
of bronze into a basin, pretending to be tired: "Come, nephew," said
he, "you must be weary as well as I; let us rest ourselves, and we
shall be better able to pursue our walk."
After they had sat down, the magician pulled from his girdle a
handkerchief with cakes and fruit, which he had provided, and laid them
on the edge of the basin. He broke a cake in two, gave one half to
Aladdin, and ate the other himself; and in regard to the fruit, left
him at liberty to take which sort he liked best. During this short
repast, he exhorted his nephew to leave off keeping company with
vagabonds, and seek that of wise and prudent men, to improve by their
conversation; "for," said he, "you will soon be at man's estate, and
you cannot too early begin to imitate their example." When they had
eaten as much as they liked, they got up, and pursued their walk
through gardens separated from one another only by small ditches, which
marked out the limits without interrupting the communication; so great
was the confidence the inhabitants reposed in each other. By this
means, the African magician drew Aladdin insensibly beyond the gardens,
and crossed the country, till they nearly reached the mountains.
Aladdin, who had never been so far before, began to find himself much
tired with so long a walk, and said to the magician, "Where are we
going, uncle? We have left the gardens a great way behind us, and I see
nothing but mountains; if we go much farther, I do not know whether I
shall be able to reach the town again." "Never fear, nephew," said the
false uncle; "I will show you another garden which surpasses all we
have yet seen; it is not far off; and when we come there, you will say
that you would have been sorry to have been so nigh, and not seen it."
Aladdin was soon persuaded, and the magician, to make the way seem
shorter and less fatiguing, told him a great many stories.
At last they arrived between two mountains of moderate height, and
equal size, divided by a narrow valley, which was the place where the
magician intended to execute the design that had brought him from
Africa to China. "We will go no farther now," said he to Aladdin: "I
will show you here some extraordinary things, which, when you have
seen, you will thank me for: but while I strike a light, gather up all
the loose dry sticks you can see, to kindle a fire with."
Aladdin found so many dried sticks, that before the magician had
lighted a match, he had collected a great heap. The magician presently
set them on fire, and when they were in a blaze, threw in some incense
which raised a cloud of smoke. This he dispersed on each side, by
pronouncing several magical words which Aladdin did not understand.
At the same time the earth trembling, opened just before the magician,
and uncovered a stone, laid horizontally, with a brass ring fixed into
the middle. Aladdin was so frightened at what he saw, that he would
have run away; but the magician caught hold of him, abused him, and
gave him such a box on the ear, that he knocked him down. Aladdin got
up trembling, and with tears in his eyes, said to the magician, "What
have I done, uncle, to be treated in this severe manner?" "I have my
reasons," answered the magician: "I am your uncle, I supply the place
of your father, and you ought to make no reply. But, child," added he,
softening, "do not be afraid; for I shall not ask anything of you, but
that you obey me punctually, if you would reap the advantages which I
intend you." These fair promises calmed Aladdin's fears and resentment;
and when the magician saw that he was appeased, he said to him, "You
see what I have done by virtue of my incense, and the words I
pronounced. Know, then, that under this stone there is hidden a
treasure, destined to be yours, and which will make you richer than the
greatest monarch in the world: no person but yourself is permitted to
lift this stone, or enter the cave; so you must punctually execute what
I may command, for it is a matter of great consequence both to you and
me."
Aladdin, amazed at all he saw, and heard the magician say of the
treasure which was to make him happy, forgot what was past, and rising,
said, "Well, uncle, what is to be done? Command me, I am ready to
obey." "I am overjoyed, child," said the African magician, embracing
him; "take hold of the ring, and lift up that stone." "Indeed, uncle,"
replied Aladdin, "I am not strong enough, you must help me." "You have
no occasion for my assistance," answered the magician; "if I help you,
we shall be able to do nothing; take hold of the ring, pronounce the
names of your father and grandfather, then lift it up, and you will
find it will come easily." Aladdin did as the magician bade him, raised
the stone with ease, and laid it on one side.
When the stone was pulled up, there appeared a cavity of about three or
four feet deep, with a little door, and steps to go down lower.
"Observe, my son," said the African magician, "what I direct. Descend
into the cave, and when you are at the bottom of those steps you will
find a door open, which will lead you into a spacious vault, divided
into three great halls, in each of which you will see four large brass
cisterns placed on each side, full of gold and silver; but take care
you do not meddle with them. Before you enter the first hall, be sure
to tuck up your vest, wrap it about you, and then pass through the
second into the third without stopping. Above all things, have a care
that you do not touch the walls, so much as with your clothes; for if
you do, you will die instantly. At the end of the third hall, you will
find a door which opens into a garden planted with fine trees loaded
with fruit; walk directly across the garden by a path which will lead
you to five steps that will bring you upon a terrace, where you will
see a niche before you, and in that niche a lighted lamp. Take the lamp
down, and extinguish it: when you have thrown away the wick, and poured
out the liquor, put it in your vestband and bring it to me. Do not be
afraid that the liquor will spoil your clothes, for it is not oil; and
the lamp will be dry as soon as it is thrown out. If you should wish
for any of the fruit of the garden, you may gather as much as you
please."
After these words, the magician drew a ring off his finger, and put it
on one of Aladdin's, telling him that it was a preservative against all
evil, while he should observe what he had prescribed to him. After this
instruction he said, "Go down boldly, child, and we shall both be rich
all our lives."
Aladdin jumped into the cave, descended the steps, and found the three
halls just as the African magician had described. He went through them
with all the precaution the fear of death could inspire; crossed the
garden without stopping, took down the lamp from the niche, threw out
the wick and the liquor, and, as the magician had desired, put it in
his vestband. But as he came down from the terrace, seeing it was
perfectly dry, he stopped in the garden to observe the fruit, which he
only had a glimpse of in crossing it. All the trees were loaded with
extraordinary fruit, of different colors on each tree. Some bore fruit
entirely white, and some clear and transparent as crystal; some pale
red, and others deeper; some green, blue, and purple, and others
yellow: in short, there was fruit of all colors. The white were pearls;
the clear and transparent, diamonds; the deep red, rubies; the paler,
balas rubies; the green, emeralds; the blue, turquoises; the purple,
amethysts; and those that were of yellow cast, sapphires. Aladdin was
altogether ignorant of their worth, and would have preferred figs and
grapes, or any other fruits. But though he took them only for colored
glass of little value, yet he was so pleased with the variety of the
colors, and the beauty and extraordinary size of the seeming fruit,
that he resolved to gather some of every sort, and accordingly filled
the two new purses his uncle had bought for him with his clothes. Some
he wrapped up in the skirts of his vest, which was of silk, large and
wrapping, and crammed his bosom as full as it could hold.
Aladdin, having thus loaded himself with riches he knew not the value
of, returned through the three halls with the same precaution, made all
the haste he could, that he might not make his uncle wait, and soon
arrived at the mouth of the cave, where the African magician expected
him with the utmost impatience. As soon as Aladdin saw him, he cried
out, "Pray, uncle, lend me your hand, to help me out." "Give me the
lamp first," replied the magician; "it will be troublesome to you."
"Indeed, uncle," answered Aladdin, "I cannot now; it is not troublesome
to me: but I will as soon as I am up." The African magician was so
obstinate, that he would have the lamp before he would help him up; and
Aladdin, who had encumbered himself so much with his fruit that he
could not well get at it, refused to give it to him till he was out of
the cave. The African magician, provoked at this obstinate refusal,
flew into a passion, threw a little of his incense into the fire, which
he had taken care to keep in, and no sooner pronounced two magical
words, than the stone which had closed the mouth of the cave moved into
its place, with the earth over it in the same manner as it lay at the
arrival of the magician and Aladdin.
This action of the African magician's plainly showed him to be neither
Aladdin's uncle, nor Mustapha the tailor's brother: but a true African.
Africa is a country whose inhabitants delight most in magic of any in
the whole world, and he had applied himself to it from his youth. After
forty years' experience in enchantments, geomancy, fumigations, and
reading of magic books, he had found out that there was in the world a
wonderful lamp, the possession of which would render him more powerful
than any monarch; and by a late operation of geomancy, he had
discovered that this lamp lay concealed in a subterraneous place in the
midst of China, in the situation already described. Fully persuaded of
the truth of this discovery, he set out from the farthest part of
Africa; and after a long and fatiguing journey, came to the town
nearest to this treasure. But though he had a certain knowledge of the
place where the lamp was, he was not permitted to take if himself, nor
to enter the subterraneous place, but must receive it from the hands of
another person. For this reason he had addressed himself to Aladdin,
whom he looked upon as a young lad whose life was of no consequence,
and fit to serve his purpose, resolving, as soon as he should get the
lamp into his hands, to sacrifice him to his avarice and wickedness, by
making the fumigation mentioned before, and repeating two magical
words, the effect of which would remove the stone into its place, so
that no witness would remain of the transaction.
The blow he had given Aladdin was intended to make him obey the more
readily, and give him the lamp as soon as he should ask for it. But his
too great precipitation, and fear lest somebody should come that way
during their dispute, and discover what he wished to keep secret,
produced an effect quite contrary to what he had proposed to himself.
When the African magician saw that all his hopes were frustrated
forever, he returned the same day for Africa; but went quite round the
town, and at some distance from it, lest some persons who had observed
him walk out with the boy, on seeing him come back without him, should
entertain any suspicions, and stop him.
According to all appearance, there was no prospect of Aladdin being any
more heard of. But the magician, when he had contrived his death,
forgot the ring he had put upon his finger, which preserved him, though
he knew not its virtue. It may seem astonishing that the loss of that,
together with the lamp, did not drive the magician to despair; but
magicians are so much used to misfortunes, and events contrary to their
wishes, that they do not lay them to heart, but still feed themselves,
to the end of life, with unsubstantial notions and chimeras.
The surprise of Aladdin, who had never suspected this treachery from
his pretended uncle, after all his caresses and what he had done for
him, is more easily to be imagined than expressed. When he found
himself buried alive, he cried, and called out to his uncle, to tell
him he was ready to give him the lamp; but in vain, since his cries
could not be heard. He descended to the bottom of the steps, with a
design to get into the garden, but the door, which was opened before by
enchantment, was now shut by the same means. He then redoubled his
cries and tears, sat down on the steps, without any hopes of ever
seeing light again, and in a melancholy certainty of passing from the
present darkness into that of a speedy death.
Aladdin remained in this state two days, without eating or drinking,
and on the third looked upon death as inevitable. Clasping his hands
with an entire resignation to the will of God, he said, "There is no
strength or power but in the great and high God." In this action of
joining his hands he rubbed the ring which the magician had put on his
finger, and of which he knew not yet the virtue. Immediately a genie of
enormous size and frightful aspect rose out of the earth, his head
reaching the roof of the vault, and said to him, "What wouldst thou
have? I am ready to obey thee as thy slave, and the slave of all who
may possess the ring on thy finger; I and the other slaves of that
ring."
At another time, Aladdin, who had not been used to such appearances,
would have been so frightened at the sight of so extraordinary a figure
that he would not have been able to speak; but the danger he was in
made him answer without hesitation, "Whoever thou art, deliver me from
this place, if thou art able." He had no sooner spoken these words,
than he found himself on the very spot where the magician had caused
the earth to open.
It was some time before his eyes could bear the light, after being so
long in total darkness: but after he had endeavored by degrees to
support it, and began to look about him, he was much surprised not to
find the earth open, and could not comprehend how he had got so soon
out of its bowels. There was nothing to be seen but the place where the
fire had been, by which he could nearly judge the situation of the
cave. Then turning himself towards the town, he perceived it at a
distance in the midst of the gardens that surround it, and saw the way
by which the magician had brought him. Returning God thanks to find
himself once more in the world, he made the best of his way home. When
he got within his mother's door, the joy to see her and his weakness
for want of sustenance for three days made him faint, and he remained
for a long time as dead. His mother, who had given him over for lost,
seeing him in this condition, omitted nothing to bring him to himself.
As soon as he recovered, the first words he spoke, were, "Pray, mother,
give me something to eat, for I have not put a morsel of anything into
my mouth these three days." His mother brought what she had, and set it
before him. "My son," said she, "be not too eager, for it is dangerous;
eat but little at a time, and take care of yourself. Besides, I would
not have you talk; you will have time enough to tell me what happened
to you when you are recovered. It is a great comfort to me to see you
again, after the affliction I have been in since Friday, and the pains
I have taken to learn what was become of you."
Aladdin took his mother's advice, and ate and drank moderately. When he
had done, "Mother," said he to her, "I cannot help complaining of you,
for abandoning me so easily to the discretion of a man who had a design
to kill me, and who at this very moment thinks my death certain. You
believed he was my uncle, as well as I; and what other thoughts could
we entertain of a man who was so kind to me, and made such advantageous
proffers? But I must tell you, mother, he is a rogue and a cheat, and
only made me those promises to accomplish my death; but for what reason
neither you nor I can guess. For my part, I can assure you, I never
gave him any cause to justify the least ill treatment from him. You
shall judge yourself, when you have heard all that passed from the time
I left you, till he came to the execution of his wicked design."
Aladdin then related to his mother all that had happened to him from
the Friday, when the magician took him to see the palaces and gardens
about the town, and what fell out in the way, till they came to the
place between the two mountains where the great prodigy was to be
performed; how, with incense which the magician threw into the fire,
and some magical words which he pronounced, the earth opened, and
discovered a cave, which led to an inestimable treasure. He forgot not
the blow the magician had given him, in what manner he softened again,
and engaged him by great promises, and putting a ring to his finger, to
go down into the cave. He did not omit the least circumstance of what
he saw in crossing the three halls and the garden, and his taking the
lamp, which he pulled out of his bosom and showed to his mother, as
well as the transparent fruit of different colors, which he had
gathered in the garden as he returned. But, though these fruits were
precious stones, brilliant as the sun, and the reflection of a lamp
which then lighted the room might have led them to think they were of
great value, she was as ignorant of their worth as her son, and cared
nothing for them. She had been bred in a low rank of life, and her
husband's poverty prevented his being possessed of jewels, nor had she,
her relations, or neighbors, ever seen any; so that we must not wonder
that she regarded them as things of no value, and only pleasing to the
eye by the variety of their colors.
Aladdin put them behind one of the cushions of the sofa, and continued
his story, telling his mother, that when he returned to the mouth of
the cave, upon his refusal to give the magician the lamp till he should
get out, the stone, by his throwing some incense into the fire, and
using two or three magical words, shut him in, and the earth closed. He
could not help bursting into tears at the representation of the
miserable condition he was in, at finding himself buried alive in a
dismal cave, till by the touching of his ring, the virtue of which he
was till then an entire stranger to, he, properly speaking, came to
life again. When he had finished his story, he said to his mother, "I
need say no more, you know the rest. This is my adventure, and the
danger I have been exposed to since you saw me."
Aladdin's mother heard with so much patience as not to interrupt him
this surprising and wonderful relation, notwithstanding it could be no
small affliction to a mother, who loved her son tenderly: but yet in
the most moving part which discovered the perfidy of the African
magician, she could not help showing, by marks of the greatest
indignation, how much she detested him; and when her son had finished
his story, she broke out into a thousand reproaches against that vile
impostor. She called him perfidious traitor, barbarian, assassin,
deceiver, magician, and an enemy and destroyer of mankind. "Without
doubt, child," added she, "he is a magician, and they are plagues to
the world, and by their enchantments and sorceries have commerce with
the devil. Bless God for preserving you from his wicked designs; for
your death would have been inevitable, if you had not called upon him,
and implored his assistance." She said a great deal more against the
magician's treachery; but finding that whilst she talked, Aladdin, who
had not slept for three days and nights, began to doze, she left him to
his repose and retired.
Aladdin, who had not closed his eyes while he was in the subterraneous
abode, slept very soundly till late the next morning; when the first
thing he said to his mother was, that he wanted something to eat, and
that she could not do him a greater kindness than to give him his
breakfast. "Alas! child," said she, "I have not a bit of bread to give
you, you ate up all the provisions I had in the house yesterday; but
have a little patience, and it shall not be long before I will bring
you some: I have a little cotton, which I have spun; I will go and sell
it, buy bread, and something for our dinner." "Mother," replied
Aladdin, "keep your cotton for another time, and give me the lamp I
brought home with me yesterday; I will go and sell it, and the money I
shall get for it will serve both for breakfast and dinner, and perhaps
supper too."
Aladdin's mother took the lamp, and said to her son, "Here it is, but
it is very dirty; if it was a little cleaner I believe it would bring
something more." She took some fine sand and water to clean it; but had
no sooner begun to rub it, than in an instant a hideous genie of
gigantic size appeared before her, and said to her in a voice like
thunder, "What wouldst thou have? I am ready to obey thee as thy slave,
and the slave of all those who have the lamp in their hands; I and the
other slaves of the lamp."
Aladdin's mother, terrified at the sight of the genie, fainted; when
Aladdin, who had seen such a phantom in the cavern, snatched the lamp
out of his mother's hand, and said to the genie boldly, "I am hungry,
bring me something to eat." The genie disappeared immediately, and in
an instant returned with a large silver tray, holding twelve covered
dishes of the same metal, which contained the most delicious viands;
six large white bread cakes on two plates, two flagons of wine, and two
silver cups. All these he placed upon a carpet, and disappeared: this
was done before Aladdin's mother recovered from her swoon.
Aladdin had fetched some water, and sprinkled it in her face, to
recover her: whether that or the smell of the meat brought her to life
again, it was not long before she came to herself. "Mother," said
Aladdin, "do not mind this; get up, and come and eat; here is what will
put you in heart, and at the same time satisfy my extreme hunger: do
not let such delicious meat get cold."
His mother was much surprised to see the great tray, twelve dishes, six
loaves, the two flagons and cups, and to smell the savory odor which
exhaled from the dishes. "Child," said she, "to whom are we obliged for
this great plenty and liberality? has the sultan been made acquainted
with our poverty, and had compassion on us?" "It is no matter, mother,"
said Aladdin, "let us sit down and eat; for you have almost as much
need of a good breakfast as myself; when we have done, I will tell
you." Accordingly both mother and son sat down, and ate with the better
relish as the table was so well furnished. But all the time Aladdin's
mother could not forbear looking at and admiring the tray and dishes,
though she could not judge whether they were silver or any other metal,
and the novelty more than the value attracted her attention.
The mother and son sat at breakfast till it was dinner-time, and then
they thought it would be best to put the two meals together; yet after
this they found they should have enough left for supper, and two meals
for the next day.
When Aladdin's mother had taken away and set by what was left, she went
and sat down by her son on the sofa, saying, "I expect now that you
should satisfy my impatience, and tell me exactly what passed between
the genie and you while I was in a swoon"; which he readily complied
with.
She was in as great amazement at what her son told her, as at the
appearance of the genie; and said to him, "But, son, what have we to do
with genies? I never heard that any of my acquaintance had ever seen
one. How came that vile genie to address himself to me, and not to you,
to whom he had appeared before in the cave?" "Mother," answered
Aladdin, "the genie you saw is not the one who appeared to me, though
he resembles him in size; no, they had quite different persons and
habits; they belong to different masters. If you remember, he that I
first saw, called himself the slave of the ring on my finger; and this
you saw, called himself the slave of the lamp you had in your hand: but
I believe you did not hear him, for I think you fainted as soon as he
began to speak."
"What!" cried the mother, "was your lamp then the occasion of that
cursed genie's addressing himself rather to me than to you? Ah! my son,
take it out of my sight, and put it where you please. I will never
touch it. I had rather you would sell it, than run the hazard of being
frightened to death again by touching it: and if you would take my
advice, you would part also with the ring, and not have anything to do
with genies, who, as our prophet has told us, are only devils."
"With your leave, mother," replied Aladdin, "I shall now take care how
I sell a lamp, which may be so serviceable both to you and me. Have you
not been an eye-witness of what it has procured us? and it shall still
continue to furnish us with subsistence and maintenance. You may
suppose as I do, that my false and wicked uncle would not have taken so
much pains, and undertaken so long and tedious a journey, if it had not
been to get into his possession this wonderful lamp, which he preferred
before all the gold and silver which he knew was in the halls, and
which I have seen with my own eyes. He knew too well the worth of this
lamp, not to prefer it to so great a treasure; and since chance hath
discovered the virtue of it to us, let us make a profitable use of it,
without making any great show, and exciting the envy and jealousy of
our neighbors. However, since the genies frighten you so much, I will
take it out of your sight, and put it where I may find it when I want
it. The ring I cannot resolve to part with; for without that you had
never seen me again; and though I am alive now, perhaps, if it was
gone, I might not be so some moments hence; therefore, I hope you will
give me leave to keep it, and to wear it always on my finger. Who knows
what dangers you and I may be exposed to, which neither of us can
foresee, and from which it may deliver us?" As Aladdin's arguments were
just, his mother had nothing to say against them; she only replied,
that he might do what he pleased, for her part, she would have nothing
to do with genies, but would wash her hands of them, and never say
anything more about them.
By the next night they had eaten all the provisions the genie had
brought; and the next day Aladdin, who could not bear the thoughts of
hunger, putting one of the silver dishes under his vest, went out early
to sell it, and addressing himself to a Jew whom he met in the streets,
took him aside, and pulling out the plate, asked him if he would buy
it. The cunning Jew took the dish, examined it, and as soon as he found
that it was good silver, asked Aladdin at how much he valued it.
Aladdin, who knew not its value, and never had been used to such
traffic, told him he would trust to his judgment and honor. The Jew was
somewhat confounded at this plain dealing; and doubting whether Aladdin
understood the material or the full value of what he offered to sell,
took a piece of gold out of his purse and give it him, though it was
but the sixtieth part of the worth of the plate. Aladdin, taking the
money very eagerly, retired with so much haste, that the Jew, not
content with the exorbitancy of his profit, was vexed he had not
penetrated into his ignorance, and was going to run after him, to
endeavor to get some change out of the piece of gold; but he ran so
fast, and had got so far, that it would have been impossible for him to
overtake him.
Before Aladdin went home, he called at a baker's, bought some cakes of
bread, changed his money, and on his return gave the rest to his
mother, who went and purchased provisions enough to last them some
time. After this manner they lived, till Aladdin had sold the twelve
dishes singly, as necessity pressed, to the Jew, for the same money;
who, after the first time, durst not offer him less, for fear of losing
so good a bargain. When he had sold the last dish, he had recourse to
the tray, which weighed ten times as much as the dishes, and would have
carried it to his old purchaser, but that it was too large and
cumbersome; therefore he was obliged to bring him home with him to his
mother's, where, after the Jew had examined the weight of the tray, he
laid down ten pieces of gold, with which Aladdin was very well
satisfied.
They lived on these ten pieces in a frugal manner, and Aladdin, though
used to an idle life, had left off playing with young lads of his own
age ever since his adventure with the African magician. He spent his
time in walking about, and conversing with decent people, with whom he
gradually got acquainted. Sometimes he would stop at the principal
merchants' shops, where people of distinction met, and listen to their
discourse, by which he gained some little knowledge of the world.
When all the money was spent, Aladdin had recourse again to the lamp.
He took it in his hand, looked for the part where his mother had rubbed
it with the sand, rubbed it also, when the genie immediately appeared,
and said, "What wouldst thou have? I am ready to obey thee as thy
slave, and the slave of all those who have that lamp in their hands."
"I am hungry," said Aladdin, "bring me something to eat." The genie
disappeared, and presently returned with a tray, the same number of
covered dishes as before, set them down, and vanished.
Aladdin's mother, knowing what her son was going to do, went out about
some business, on purpose to avoid being in the way when the genie
came; and when she returned, was almost as much surprised as before at
the prodigious effect of the lamp. However, she sat down with her son,
and when they had eaten as much as they liked, she set enough by to
last them two or three days.
As soon as Aladdin found that their provisions were expended, he took
one of the dishes, and went to look for his Jew chapman; but passing by
a goldsmith's shop, who had the character of a very fair and honest
man, the goldsmith perceiving him, called to him, and said, "My lad, I
have often observed you go by, loaded as you are at present, and talk
with such a Jew, and then come back again empty handed. I imagine that
you carry something which you sell to him; but perhaps you do not know
that he is the greatest rogue even among the Jews, and is so well
known, that nobody of prudence will have anything to do with him. What
I tell you is for your own good. If you will show me what you now
carry, and it is to be sold, I will give you the full worth of it; or I
will direct you to other merchants who will not cheat you."
The hopes of getting more money for his plate induced Aladdin to pull
it from under his vest, and show it to the goldsmith, who at first
sight saw that it was made of the finest silver, asked him if he had
sold such as that to the Jew, when Aladdin told him that he had sold
him twelve such, for a piece of gold each. "What a villain!" cried the
goldsmith; "but," added he, "my son, what is past cannot be recalled.
By showing you the value of this plate, which is of the finest silver
we use in our shops, I will let you see how much the Jew has cheated
you."
The goldsmith took a pair of scales, weighed the dish, and after he had
mentioned how much an ounce of fine silver cost, assured him that his
plate would fetch by weight sixty pieces of gold, which he offered to
pay down immediately. "If you dispute my honesty," said he, "you may go
to any other of our trade, and if he gives you more, I will be bound to
forfeit twice as much; for we gain only the fashion of the plate we
buy, and that the fairest-dealing Jews are not contented with."
Aladdin thanked him for his fair dealing, so greatly to his advantage,
took the gold, and never after went to any other person, but sold him
all his dishes and the tray, and had as much for them as the weight
came to.
Though Aladdin and his mother had an inexhaustible treasure in their
lamp, and might have had whatever they wished for, yet they lived with
the same frugality as before, except that Aladdin dressed better; as
for his mother, she wore no clothes but what she earned by spinning
cotton. After their manner of living, it may be supposed, that the
money for which Aladdin had sold the dishes and tray was sufficient to
maintain them some time.
During this interval, Aladdin frequented the shops of the principal
merchants, where they sold cloth of gold and silver, linens, silk
stuffs, and jewelry, and oftentimes joining in their conversation,
acquired a knowledge of the world, and respectable demeanor. By his
acquaintance among the jewelers, he came to know that the fruit which
he had gathered when he took the lamp were, instead of colored glass,
stones of inestimable value; but he had the prudence not to mention
this to any one, not even to his mother.
One day as Aladdin was walking about the town, he heard an order
proclaimed, commanding the people to shut up their shops and houses,
and keep within doors, while the princess Buddir al Buddoor, the
sultan's daughter, went to the baths and returned.
This proclamation inspired Aladdin with eager curiosity to see the
princess's face, which he could not do without admission into the house
of some acquaintance, and then only through a window; which did not
satisfy him, when he considered that the princess when she went to the
baths, would be closely veiled; but to gratify his curiosity, he
presently thought of a scheme, which succeeded; it was to place himself
behind the door of the bath, which was so situated that he could not
fail of seeing her face.
Aladdin had not waited long before the princess came, and he could see
her plainly through a chink of the door without being discovered. She
was attended by a great crowd of ladies, slaves, and eunuchs, who
walked on each side, and behind her. When she came within three or four
paces of the door of the baths, she took off her veil, and gave Aladdin
an opportunity of a full view.
As soon as Aladdin had seen the princess his heart could not withstand
those inclinations so charming an object always inspires. The princess
was the most beautiful brunette in the world; her eyes were large,
lively, and sparkling; her looks sweet and modest; her nose was of a
just proportion and without a fault, her mouth small, her lips of a
vermilion red and charmingly agreeable symmetry; in a word, all the
features of her face were perfectly regular. It is not therefore
surprising that Aladdin, who had never before seen such a blaze of
charms, was dazzled, and his senses ravished by such an assemblage.
With all these perfections the princess had so fine a form, and so
majestic an air, that the sight of her was sufficient to inspire love
and admiration.
After the princess had passed by, and entered the baths, Aladdin
remained some time astonished, and in a kind of ecstasy, retracing and
imprinting the idea of so charming an object deeply in his mind. But at
last, considering that the princess was gone past him, and that when
she returned from the bath her back would be towards him, and then
veiled, he resolved to quit his hiding place and go home. He could not
so far conceal his uneasiness but that his mother perceived it, was
surprised to see him so much more thoughtful and melancholy than usual;
and asked what had happened to make him so, or if he was ill. He
returned her no answer, but sat carelessly down on the sofa, and
remained silent, musing on the image of the charming Buddir al Buddoor.
His mother, who was dressing supper, pressed him no more. When it was
ready, she served it up, and perceiving that he gave no attention to
it, urged him to eat, but had much ado to persuade him to change his
place; which when he did, he ate much less than usual, all the time
cast down his eyes, and observed so profound a silence, that she could
not obtain a word in answer to all the questions she put, in order to
find the reason of so extraordinary an alteration.
After supper, she asked him again why he was so melancholy, but could
get no information, and he determined to go to bed rather than give her
the least satisfaction. Without examining how he passed the night, his
mind full as it was with the charms of the princess, I shall only
observe that as he sat next day on the sofa, opposite his mother, as
she was spinning cotton, he spoke to her in these words: "I perceive,
mother, that my silence yesterday has much troubled you; I was not, nor
am I sick, as I fancy you believed; but I assure you, that what I felt
then, and now endure, is worse than any disease. I cannot explain what
ails me; but doubt not what I am going to relate will inform you.
"It was not proclaimed in this quarter of the town, and therefore you
could know nothing of it, that the sultan's daughter was yesterday to
go to the baths. I heard this as I walked about the town, and an order
was issued that all the shops should be shut up in her way thither, and
everybody keep withindoors, to leave the streets free for her and her
attendants. As I was not then far from the bath, I had a great
curiosity to see the princess's face; and as it occurred to me that the
princess, when she came nigh the door of the bath, would pull her veil
off, I resolved to conceal myself behind the door. You know the
situation of the door, and may imagine that I must have had a full view
of her. The princess threw off her veil, and I had the happiness of
seeing her lovely face with the greatest security. This, mother, was
the cause of my melancholy and silence yesterday; I love the princess
with more violence than I can express; and as my passion increases
every moment, I cannot live without the possession of the amiable
Buddir al Buddoor, and am resolved to ask her in marriage of the sultan
her father."
Aladdin's mother listened with surprise to what her son told her; but
when he talked of asking the princess in marriage, she could not help
bursting out into a loud laugh. Aladdin would have gone on with his
rhapsody, but she interrupted him: "Alas! child," said she, "what are
you thinking of? you must be mad to talk thus."
"I assure you, mother," replied Aladdin, "that I am not mad, but in my
right senses; I foresaw that you would reproach me with folly and
extravagance; but I must tell you once more, that I am resolved to
demand the princess of the sultan in marriage, and your remonstrances
shall not prevent me."
"Indeed, son," replied the mother seriously, "I cannot help telling
you, that you have forgotten yourself; and if you would put this
resolution of yours in execution, I do not see whom you can prevail
upon to venture to make the proposal for you." "You yourself," replied
he immediately. "I go to the sultan!" answered the mother, amazed and
surprised. "I shall be cautious how I engage in such an errand. Why,
who are you, son," continued she, "that you can have the assurance to
think of your sultan's daughter? Have you forgotten that your father
was one of the poorest tailors in the capital, and that I am of no
better extraction; and do not you know that sultans never marry their
daughters but to princes, sons of sovereigns like themselves?"
"Mother," answered Aladdin, "I have already told you that I foresaw all
that you have said, or can say: and tell you again, that neither your
discourse nor your remonstrances shall make me change my mind. I have
told you that you must ask the princess in marriage for me: it is a
favor I desire of you, and I beg of you not to refuse, unless you would
rather see me in my grave, than by your compliance give me new life."
The good old woman was much embarrassed, when she found Aladdin
obstinately persisting in so wild a design. "My son," said she again,
"I am your mother, who brought you into the world, and there is nothing
that is reasonable but I would readily do for you. If I were to go and
treat about your marriage with some neighbor's daughter, whose
circumstances were equal with yours, I would do it with all my heart;
and even then they would expect you should have some little estate or
fortune, or be of some trade. When such poor folks as we are wish to
marry, the first thing they ought to think of, is how to live. But
without reflecting on the meanness of your birth, and the little merit
and fortune you have to recommend you, you aim at the highest pitch of
exaltation; and your pretensions are no less than to demand in marriage
the daughter of your sovereign, who with one single word can crush you
to pieces. I say nothing of what respects yourself. I leave you to
reflect on what you have to do, if you have ever so little thought. I
come now to consider what concerns myself. How could so extraordinary a
thought come into your head, as that I should go to the sultan and make
a proposal to him to give his daughter in marriage to you? Suppose I
had, not to say the boldness, but the impudence to present myself
before the sultan, and make so extravagant a request, to whom should I
address myself to be introduced to his Majesty? Do you not think the
first person I should speak to would take me for a madwoman, and
chastise me as I should deserve? Suppose, however, that there is no
difficulty in presenting myself for an audience of the sultan, and I
know there is none to those who go to petition for justice, which he
distributes equally among his subjects; I know too that to those who
ask a favor he grants it with pleasure when he sees it is deserved, and
the persons are worthy of it. But is that your case? do you think you
have merited the honor you would have me ask for you? are you worthy of
it? What have you done to claim such a favor, either for your prince or
country? How have you distinguished yourself? If you have done nothing
to merit so high a distinction, nor are worthy of it, with what face
shall I ask it? How can I open my mouth to make the proposal to the
sultan? His majestic presence and the luster of his court would
absolutely confound me, who used even to tremble before my late husband
your father, when I asked him for anything. There is another reason, my
son, which you do not think of, which is that nobody ever goes to ask a
favor of the sultan without a present. But what presents have you to
make? And if you had any that were worthy of the least attention of so
great a monarch, what proportion could they bear to the favor you would
ask? Therefore, reflect well on what you are about, and consider, that
you aspire to an object which it is impossible for you to obtain."
Aladdin heard very calmly all that his mother could say to dissuade him
from his design, and after he had weighed her representations in all
points, replied: "I own, mother, it is great rashness in me to presume
to carry my pretensions so far; and a great want of consideration to
ask you with so much heat and precipitancy to go and make the proposal
to the sultan, without first taking proper measures to procure a
favorable reception, and therefore beg your pardon. But be not
surprised that through the violence of my passion I did not at first
see every measure necessary to procure me the happiness I seek. I love
the princess, or rather I adore her, and shall always persevere in my
design of marrying her. I am obliged to you for the hint you have given
me, and look upon it as the first step I ought to take to procure the
happy issue I promise myself.
"You say it is not customary to go to the sultan without a present, and
that I have nothing worthy of his acceptance. As to the necessity of a
present, I agree with you, and own that I never thought of it; but as
to what you say that I have nothing fit to offer, do not you think,
mother, that what I brought home with me the day on which I was
delivered from an inevitable death, may be an acceptable present? I
mean what you and I both took for colored glass: but now I am
undeceived, and can tell you that they are jewels of inestimable value,
and fit for the greatest monarch. I know the worth of them by
frequenting the shops; and you may take my word that all the precious
stones which I saw in the most capital jeweler's possession were not to
be compared to those we have, either for size or beauty, and yet they
value theirs at an excessive price. In short, neither you nor I know
the value of ours; but be it as it may, by the little experience I
have, I am persuaded that they will be received very favorably by the
sultan: you have a large porcelain dish fit to hold them; fetch it, and
let us see how they will look, when we have arranged them according to
their different colors."
Aladdin's mother brought the china dish, when he took the jewels out of
the two purses in which he had kept them, and placed them in order
according to his fancy. But the brightness and luster they emitted in
the daytime, and the variety of the colors, so dazzled the eyes both of
mother and son, that they were astonished beyond measure; for they had
only seen them by the light of a lamp; and though the latter had beheld
them pendant on the trees like fruit beautiful to the eye, yet as he
was then but a boy, he looked on them only as glittering playthings.
After they had admired the beauty of the jewels some time, Aladdin said
to his mother, "Now you cannot excuse yourself from going to the
sultan, under pretext of not having a present to make him, since here
is one which will gain you a favorable reception."
Though the good widow, notwithstanding the beauty and luster of the
precious stones, did not believe them so valuable as her son estimated
them, she thought such a present might nevertheless be agreeable to the
sultan, but still she hesitated at the request. "My son," said she, "I
cannot conceive that your present will have its desired effect, or that
the sultan will look upon me with a favorable eye; I am sure, that if I
attempt to deliver your strange message, I shall have no power to open
my mouth; therefore I shall not only lose my labor, but the present,
which you say is so invaluable, and shall return home again in
confusion, to tell you that your hopes are frustrated. I have
represented the consequence, and you ought to believe me; but," added
she, "I will exert my best endeavor to please you, and wish I may have
power to ask the sultan as you would have me; but certainly he would
either laugh at me, and send me back like a fool, or be in so great a
rage as to make us both the victims of his fury."
She used many other arguments to endeavor to make him change his mind;
but the charms of the princess had made too great an impression on his
heart for him to be dissuaded from his design. He persisted in
importuning his mother to execute his resolution, and she, as much out
of tenderness as for fear he should be guilty of greater extravagance,
complied with his request.
As it was now late, and the time for admission to the palace was
passed, it was put off till the next day. The mother and son talked of
different matters the remaining part of the day; and Aladdin strove to
encourage her in the task she had undertaken; while she,
notwithstanding all his arguments, could not persuade herself she
should succeed; and it must be confessed she had reason enough to
doubt. "Child," said she to Aladdin, "if the sultan should receive me
favorably, as I wish for your sake, should even hear my proposal with
calmness, and after this scarcely-to-be-expected reception should think
of asking me where lie your riches and your estate (for he will sooner
inquire after these than your person), if, I say, he should ask me
these questions, what answer would you have me return him?"
"Let us not be uneasy, mother," replied Aladdin, "about what may never
happen. First, let us see how the sultan receives, and what answer he
gives you. If it should so fall out, that he desires to be informed of
what you mention, I have thought of an answer, and am confident that
the lamp which hath supported us so long will not fail me in time of
need."
The tailor's widow could not say anything against what her son then
proposed; but reflected that the lamp might be capable of doing greater
wonders than just providing victuals for them. This consideration
satisfied her, and at the same time removed all the difficulties which
might have prevented her from undertaking the service she had promised
her son with the sultan; Aladdin, who penetrated into his mother's
thoughts, said to her, "Above all things, mother, be sure to keep
secret our possession of the lamp, for thereon depends the success we
have to expect"; and after this caution, Aladdin and his mother parted
to go to rest. But violent love, and the great prospect of so immense a
fortune, had so much possessed the son's thoughts, that he could not
repose himself so well as he could have wished. He rose before
daybreak, awakened his mother, pressing her to get herself dressed to
go to the sultan's palace, and to get admittance, if possible, before
the grand vizier, the other viziers, and the great officers of state
went in to take their seats in the divan, where the sultan always
assisted in person.
Aladdin's mother took the china dish, in which they had put the jewels
the day before, wrapped in two napkins, one finer than the other, which
was tied at the four corners for more easy carriage, and set forwards
for the sultan's palace. When she came to the gates, the grand vizier,
the other viziers, and most distinguished lords of the court were just
gone in; but, notwithstanding the crowd of people who had business was
great, she got into the divan, a spacious hall, the entrance into which
was very magnificent. She placed herself just before the sultan, grand
vizier, and the great lords, who sat in council, on his right and left
hand. Several causes were called, according to their order, pleaded and
adjudged, until the time the divan generally broke up, when the sultan
rising, returned to his apartment, attended by the grand vizier; the
other viziers and ministers of state then retired, as also did all
those whose business had called them thither; some pleased with gaining
their causes, others dissatisfied at the sentences pronounced against
them, and some in expectation of theirs being heard the next sitting.
Aladdin's mother, seeing the sultan retire, and all the people depart,
judged rightly that he would not sit again that day, and resolved to go
home. When Aladdin saw her return with the present designed for the
sultan, he knew not what to think of her success, and in his fear lest
she should bring him some ill news, had not courage to ask her any
questions; but she, who had never set foot into the sultan's palace
before, and knew not what was every day practiced there, freed him from
his embarrassment, and said to him, with a great deal of simplicity,
"Son, I have seen the sultan, and am very well persuaded he has seen me
too; for I placed myself just before him; but he was so much taken up
with those who attended on all sides of him, that I pitied him, and
wondered at his patience. At last I believe he was heartily tired, for
he rose up suddenly, and would not hear a great many who were ready
prepared to speak to him, but went away, at which I was well pleased,
for indeed I began to lose all patience, and was extremely fatigued
with staying so long. But there is no harm done; I will go again
tomorrow; perhaps the sultan may not be so busy."
Though his passion was very violent, Aladdin was forced to be satisfied
with this delay, and to fortify himself with patience. He had at least
the satisfaction to find that his mother had got over the greatest
difficulty, which was to procure access to the sultan, and hoped that
the example of those she saw speak to him would embolden her to acquit
herself better of her commission when a favorable opportunity might
offer to speak to him.
The next morning she repaired to the sultan's palace with the present,
as early as the day before, but when she came there, she found the
gates of the divan shut, and understood that the council sat but every
other day, therefore she must come again the next. This news she
carried to her son, whose only relief was to guard himself with
patience. She went six times afterwards on the days appointed, placed
herself always directly before the sultan, but with as little success
as the first morning, and might have perhaps come a thousand times to
as little purpose, if luckily the sultan himself had not taken
particular notice of her: for only those who came with petitions
approached the sultan, when each pleaded their cause in its turn, and
Aladdin's mother was not one of them.
On the sixth day, however, after the divan was broken up, when the
sultan returned to his own apartment, he said to his grand vizier, "I
have for some time observed a certain woman, who attends constantly
every day that I give audience, with something wrapped up in a napkin:
she always stands up from the beginning to the breaking up of the
audience, and affects to place herself just before me. Do you know what
she wants?"
"Sir," replied the grand vizier, who knew no more than the sultan what
she wanted, but did not wish to seem uninformed, "your Majesty knows
that women often make complaints on trifles; perhaps she may come to
complain to your Majesty, that somebody has sold her some bad flour, or
some such trifling matter." The sultan was not satisfied with this
answer, but replied, "If this woman comes to our next audience, do not
fail to call her, that I may hear what she has to say." The grand
vizier made answer by lowering his hand, and then lifting it up above
his head, signifying his willingness to lose it if he failed.
By this time, the tailor's widow was so much used to go to audience,
and stand before the sultan, that she did not think it any trouble, if
she could but satisfy her son that she neglected nothing that lay in
her power to please him: the next audience day she went to the divan,
placed herself in front of the sultan as usual; and before the grand
vizier had made his report of business, the sultan perceived her, and
compassionating her for having waited so long, said to the vizier,
"Before you enter upon any business, remember the woman I spoke to you
about; bid her come near, and let us hear and dispatch her business
first." The grand vizier immediately called the chief of the mace-
bearers who stood ready to obey his commands; and pointing to her, bade
him go to that woman, and tell her to come before the sultan.
The chief of the officers went to Aladdin's mother, and at a sign he
gave her, she followed him to the foot of the sultan's throne, where he
left her, and retired to his place by the grand vizier. The old woman,
after the example of others whom she saw salute the sultan, bowed her
head down to the carpet, which covered the platform of the throne, and
remained in that posture till the sultan bade her rise, which she had
no sooner done, than he said to her, "Good woman, I have observed you
to stand a long time, from the beginning to the rising of the divan;
what business brings you here?"
After these words, Aladdin's mother prostrated herself a second time;
and when she arose, said, "Monarch of monarchs, before I tell your
Majesty the extraordinary and almost incredible business which brings
me before your high throne, I beg of you to pardon the boldness or
rather impudence of the demand I am going to make, which is so
uncommon, that I tremble, and am ashamed to propose it to my
sovereign." In order to give her the more freedom to explain herself,
the sultan ordered all to quit the divan but the grand vizier, and then
told her she might speak without restraint.
Aladdin's mother, not content with this favor of the sultan's to save
her the trouble and confusion of speaking before so many people, was
notwithstanding for securing herself against his anger, which, from the
proposal she was going to make, she was not a little apprehensive of;
therefore resuming her discourse, she said, "I beg of your Majesty, if
you should think my demand the least injurious or offensive, to assure
me first of your pardon and forgiveness." "Well," replied the sultan,
"I will forgive you, be it what it may, and no hurt shall come to you:
speak boldly."
When Aladdin's mother had taken all these precautions, for fear of the
sultan's anger, she told him faithfully how Aladdin had seen the
princess Buddir al Buddoor, the violent love that fatal sight had
inspired him with, the declaration he had made to her of it when he
came home, and what representations she had made to dissuade him from a
passion "no less disrespectful," said she, "to your Majesty, as sultan,
than to the princess your daughter. But," continued she, "my son, instead
of taking my advice and reflecting on his presumption, was so obstinate
as to persevere, and to threaten me with some desperate act, if I refused
to come and ask the princess in marriage of your Majesty; and it was not
without the greatest reluctance that I was led to accede to his request,
for which I beg your Majesty once more to pardon not only me, but also
Aladdin my son, for entertaining so rash a project as to aspire to so
high an alliance."
The sultan hearkened to this discourse with mildness, and without
showing the least anger; but before he gave her any answer, asked her
what she had brought tied up in the napkin. She took the china dish,
which she had set down at the foot of the throne, before she prostrated
herself before him; untied it, and presented it to the sultan.
The sultan's amazement and surprise were inexpressible, when he saw so
many large, beautiful, and valuable jewels collected in the dish. He
remained for some time motionless with admiration. At last, when he had
recovered himself, he received the present from Aladdin's mother's
hand, crying out in a transport of joy, "How rich, how beautiful!"
After he had admired and handled all the jewels, one after another, he
turned to the grand vizier, and showing him the dish, said, "Behold,
admire, wonder, and confess that your eyes never beheld jewels so rich
and beautiful before." The vizier was charmed. "Well," continued the
sultan, "what sayst thou to such a present? Is it not worthy of the
princess my daughter? And ought I not to bestow her on one who values
her at so great price?"
These words put the grand vizier into extreme agitation. The sultan had
some time before signified to him his intention of bestowing the
princess on a son of his; therefore he was afraid, and not without
grounds, that the sultan, dazzled by so rich and extraordinary a
present, might change his mind. Therefore going to him, and whispering
him in the ear, he said, "I cannot but own that the present is worthy
of the princess; but I beg of your Majesty to grant me three months
before you come to a final resolution. I hope, before that time, my
son, on whom you have had the goodness to look with a favorable eye,
will be able to make a nobler present than Aladdin, who is an entire
stranger to your Majesty."
The sultan, though he was fully persuaded that it was not possible for
the vizier to provide so considerable a present for his son to make the
princess, yet as he had given him hopes, hearkened to him, and granted
his request. Turning therefore to the old widow, he said to her, "Good
woman, go home, and tell your son that I agree to the proposal you have
made me; but I cannot marry the princess my daughter, till the
paraphernalia I design for her be got ready, which cannot be finished
these three months; but at the expiration of that time come again."
Aladdin's mother returned home much more gratified than she had
expected, since she had met with a favorable answer, instead of the
refusal and confusion she had dreaded. From two circumstances Aladdin,
when he saw his mother returning, judged that she brought him good
news: the one was, that she returned sooner than ordinary; and the
other, the gayety of her countenance. "Well, mother," said he, "may I
entertain any hopes, or must I die with despair?" When she had pulled
off her veil, and had seated herself on the sofa by him, she said to
him, "Not to keep you long in suspense, son, I will begin by telling
you, that instead of thinking of dying, you have every reason to be
well satisfied." Then pursuing her discourse, she told him, that she
had an audience before everybody else, which made her come home so
soon; the precautions she had taken lest she should have displeased the
sultan, by making the proposal of marriage between him and the princess
Buddir al Buddoor, and the condescending answer she had received from
the sultan's own mouth; and that as far as she could judge, the present
had wrought a powerful effect. "But when I least expected it," said
she, "and he was going to give me an answer, and I fancied a favorable
one, the grand vizier whispered him in the ear, and I was afraid might
be some obstacle to his good intentions towards us, and so it happened,
for the sultan desired me to come to audience again this day three
months."
Aladdin thought himself the most happy of all men at hearing this news,
and thanked his mother for the pains she had taken in the affair, the
good success of which was of so great importance to his peace. Though
from his impatience to obtain the object of his passion, three months
seemed an age, yet he disposed himself to wait with patience, relying
on the sultan's word, which he looked upon to be irrevocable. But all
that time he not only counted the hours, days, and weeks, but every
moment. When two of the three months were past, his mother one evening
going to light the lamp, and finding no oil in the house, went out to
buy some, and when she came into the city, found a general rejoicing.
The shops, instead of being shut up, were open, dressed with foliage,
silks, and carpeting, every one striving to show their zeal in the most
distinguished manner according to his ability. The streets were crowded
with officers in habits of ceremony, mounted on horses richly
caparisoned, each attended by a great many footmen. Aladdin's mother
asked the oil merchant what was the meaning of all this preparation of
public festivity. "Whence came you, good woman," said he, "that you
don't know that the grand vizier's son is to marry the princess Buddir
al Buddoor, the sultan's daughter, tonight? She will presently return
from the baths; and these officers whom you see are to assist at the
cavalcade to the palace, where the ceremony is to be solemnized." This
was news enough for Aladdin's mother. She ran till she was quite out of
breath home to her son, who little suspected any such event. "Child,"
cried she, "you are undone! you depend upon the sultan's fine promises,
but they will come to nothing." Aladdin was alarmed at these words.
"Mother," replied he, "how do you know the sultan has been guilty of a
breach of promise?" "This night," answered the mother, "the grand
vizier's son is to marry the princess Buddir al Buddoor." She then
related how she had heard it; so that from all circumstances, he had no
reason to doubt the truth of what she said.
At this account, Aladdin was thunderstruck. Any other man would have
sunk under the shock; but a sudden hope of disappointing his rival soon
roused his spirits, and he bethought himself of the lamp, which had on
every emergency been so useful to him; and without venting his rage in
empty words against the sultan, the vizier or his son, he only said,
"Perhaps, mother, the vizier's son may not be so happy tonight as he
promises himself: while I go into my chamber a moment, do you get
supper ready." She accordingly went about it, but guessed that her son
was going to make use of the lamp, to prevent, if possible, the
consummation of the marriage.
When Aladdin had got into his chamber, he took the lamp, rubbed it in
the same place as before, when immediately the genie appeared, and said
to him, "What wouldst thou have? I am ready to obey thee as thy slave,
and the slave of all those who have that lamp in their possession; I
and the other slaves of the lamp." "Hear me," said Aladdin; "thou hast
hitherto brought me whatever I wanted as to provisions; but now I have
business of the greatest importance for thee to execute. I have
demanded the princess Buddir al Buddoor in marriage of the sultan her
father; he promised her to me, only requiring three months' delay; but
instead of keeping that promise, has this night married her to the
grand vizier's son. What I ask of you is, that as soon as the bride and
bridegroom are retired, you bring them both hither in their bed."
"Master," replied the genie, "I will obey you. Have you any other
commands?" "None at present," answered Aladdin; the genie then
disappeared.
Aladdin having left his chamber, supped with his mother, with the same
tranquillity of mind as usual; and after supper talked of the
princess's marriage as of an affair wherein he had not the least
concern; he then retired to his own chamber again, and left his mother
to go to bed; but sat up waiting the execution of his orders to the
genie.
In the meantime, everything was prepared with the greatest magnificence
in the sultan's palace to celebrate the princess's nuptials; and the
evening was spent with all the usual ceremonies and great rejoicings
till midnight, when the grand vizier's son, on a signal given him by
the chief of the princess's eunuchs, slipped away from the company, and
was introduced by that officer into the princess's apartment. In a
little time after, the sultaness, accompanied by her own women, and
those of the princess, brought the bride.
No sooner was the door shut, than the genie, as the faithful slave of
the lamp, and punctual in executing the command of those who possessed
it, to the great amazement of them both, took up the bed, and
transported it in an instant into Aladdin's chamber, where he set it
down.
Aladdin, who had waited impatiently for this moment, did not suffer the
vizier's son to remain long in bed with the princess. "Take this new-
married man," said he to the genie, "shut him up in a room, and come
again tomorrow morning before daybreak." The genie instantly forced the
vizier's son out of bed, carried him whither Aladdin had commanded him;
and after he had breathed upon him, which prevented his stirring, left
him there.
Aladdin did not talk much to the princess when they were alone, but
only said with a respectful air, "Fear nothing, adorable princess, you
are here in safety; for, notwithstanding the violence of my passion,
which your charms have kindled, it shall never exceed the bounds of the
profound adoration I owe you. If I have been forced to come to this
extremity, it is not with any intention of affronting you, but to
prevent an unjust rival's possessing you, contrary to the sultan your
father's promise in favor of myself."
The princess, who knew nothing of these particulars, gave very little
attention to what Aladdin could say. The fright and amazement of so
surprising and unexpected an adventure had alarmed her so much that he
could not get one word from her. Aladdin, satisfied with having thus
deprived his rival of the happiness he had flattered himself with, went
outside the room, where he slept very soundly, though the princess
Buddir al Buddoor never passed a night so ill in her life; and if we
consider the condition in which the genie left the grand vizier's son,
we may imagine that the new bridegroom spent it much worse.
Aladdin had no occasion the next morning to rub the lamp to call the
genie; who appeared at the hour appointed, just when he had done
dressing himself, and said to him, "I am here, master, what are your
commands?" "Go," said Aladdin, "fetch the vizier's son out of the place
where you left him, put him into his bed again, and carry it to the
sultan's palace, from whence you brought it." The genie presently
returned with the vizier's son. The bridegroom was laid by the
princess, and in an instant the nuptial bed was transported into the
same chamber of the palace from whence it had been brought. But we must
observe, that all this time the genie never was visible either to the
princess or the grand vizier's son. His hideous form would have made
them die with fear. Neither did they hear anything of the discourse
between Aladdin and him; they only perceived the motion of the bed, and
their transportation from one place to another; which we may well
imagine was enough to alarm them.
As soon as the genie had set down the nuptial bed in its proper place,
the sultan tapped at the door to wish her good morning. The grand
vizier's son, who was almost perished with cold, by standing in his
thin under garment all night, and had not had time to warm himself in
bed, had no sooner heard the knocking at the door than he got out of
bed, and ran into the robing chamber, where he had undressed himself
the night before.
The sultan having opened the door, went to the bedside, kissed the
princess between the eyes, according to custom, wishing her a good
morrow, but was extremely surprised to see her so melancholy. She only
cast at him a sorrowful look, expressive of great affliction or great
dissatisfaction. He said a few words to her, but finding that he could
not get a word from her, he retired. Nevertheless, he suspected that
there was something extraordinary in this silence, and thereupon went
immediately to the sultaness's apartment, told her in what a state he
had found the princess, and how she had received him. "Sir," said
the sultaness, "I will go and see her; I am much deceived if she
receives me in the same manner."
As soon as the sultaness was dressed, she went to the princess's
apartment, who was still in bed. She undrew the curtain, wished her
good morrow, and kissed her. But how great was her surprise when she
returned no answer; and looking more attentively at her, she perceived
her to be much dejected, which made her judge that something had
happened, which she did not understand. "How comes it, child," said the
sultaness, "that you do not return my caresses? Ought you to treat your
mother after this manner? I am induced to believe something
extraordinary has happened; come, tell me freely, and leave me no
longer in a painful suspense."
At last the princess broke silence with a deep sigh and said, "Alas!
most honored mother, forgive me if I have failed in the respect I owe
you. My mind is so full of the extraordinary circumstances which have
befallen me this night, that I have not yet recovered from my amazement
and alarm." She then told her, how the instant after she and her
husband were together, the bed was transported into a dark, dirty room,
where he was taken from her and carried away, but where she knew not;
and that she was left alone with a young man, who said something to
her, which her fright did not suffer her to hear; and in the morning
her husband was brought to her again, when the bed was transported back
to her own chamber in an instant. "All this," said she, "was but just
done, when the sultan my father came into my chamber. I was so
overwhelmed with grief, that I had not power to speak, and am afraid
that he is offended at the manner in which I received the honor he did
me; but I hope he will forgive me, when he knows my melancholy
adventure, and the miserable state I am in at present."
The sultaness heard all the princess told her very patiently, but would
not believe it. "You did well, child," said she, "not to speak of this
to your father: take care not to mention it to anybody; for you will
certainly be thought mad if you talk in this manner." "Madam," replied
the princess, "I can assure you I am in my right senses; ask my
husband, and he will tell you the same circumstances." "I will," said
the sultaness; "but if he should talk in the same manner, I shall not
be better persuaded of the truth. Come, rise, and throw off this idle
fancy; it will be a strange event, if all the feasts and rejoicings in
the kingdom should be interrupted by such a vision. Do not you hear the
trumpets of congratulation, and concerts of the finest music? Cannot
these inspire you with joy and pleasure, and make you forget the
fancies of an imagination disturbed by what can have been only a dream?"
At the same time the sultaness called the princess's women, and after
she had seen her get up, and begin dressing, went to the sultan's
apartment, told him that her daughter had got some odd notions in her,
but that there was nothing in them but idle fantasy.
She then sent for the vizier's son, to know of him something of what
the princess had told her; but he, thinking himself highly honored to
be allied to the sultan, and not willing to lose the princess, denied
what had happened. "That is enough," answered the sultaness, "I ask no
more. I see you are wiser than my daughter."
The rejoicings lasted all that day in the palace, and the sultaness,
who never left the princess, forgot nothing to divert her, and induce
her to take part in the various diversions and shows; but she was so
struck with the idea of what had happened to her in the night, that it
was easy to see her thoughts were entirely taken up with it. Neither
was the grand vizier's son in less tribulation, though his ambition
made him disguise his feelings so well, that nobody doubted of his
being a happy bridegroom.
Aladdin, who was well acquainted with what passed in the palace, was
sure the new-married couple were to lie together again, notwithstanding
the troublesome adventure of the night before; and therefore, having as
great an inclination to disturb them, had recourse to his lamp, and
when the genie appeared, and offered his service, he said to him, "The
grand vizier's son and the princess Buddir al Buddoor are to lie
together again tonight: go, and as soon as they are in bed, bring the
bed hither, as thou didst yesterday."
The genie obeyed as faithfully and exactly as the day before, and the
grand vizier's son passed the night as coldly and disagreeably. The
genie, according to orders, came the next morning, brought the
bridegroom, laid him by his bride, and then carried the bed and new-
married couple back again to the palace.
The sultan, after the reception the princess had given him, was very
anxious to know how she passed the second night, and therefore went
into her chamber as early as the morning before. The grand vizier's
son, more ashamed, and mortified with the ill success of this last
night, no sooner heard him coming, than he jumped out of bed, and ran
hastily into the robing-chamber. The sultan went to the princess's
bedside, and after the same caresses he had given her the former
morning, bade her good morrow. "Well, daughter," said he, "are you in
better humor than yesterday?" Still the princess was silent, and the
sultan perceiving her to be more troubled, and in greater confusion
than before, doubted not that something very extraordinary was the
cause; but provoked that his daughter should conceal it, he said to her
in a rage, with his saber in his hand, "Daughter, tell me what is the
matter, or I will cut off your head immediately."
The princess, more frightened at the menaces and tone of the enraged
sultan than at the sight of the drawn saber, at last broke silence, and
said with tears in her eyes, "My dear father and sultan, I ask your
Majesty's pardon if I have offended you, and hope, that out of your
goodness and clemency you will have compassion on me, when I shall have
told you in what a miserable condition I have spent this last night, as
well as the preceding."
After this preamble, which appeased and affected the sultan, she told
him what had happened to her, in so moving a manner, that he, who loved
her tenderly, was most sensibly grieved. She added, "If your Majesty
doubts the truth of this account, you may inform yourself from my
husband, who, I am persuaded, will tell you the same thing."
The sultan immediately felt all the extreme uneasiness so surprising an
adventure must have given the princess. "Daughter," said he, "you are
much to blame for not telling me this yesterday, since it concerns me
as much as yourself. I did not marry you with an intention to make you
miserable, but that you might enjoy all the happiness you deserve and
might hope for from a husband, who to me seemed agreeable to you.
Efface all these troublesome ideas from your memory; I will take care
that you shall have no more such disagreeable and insupportable
nights."
As soon as the sultan had returned to his own apartments, he sent for
the grand vizier: "Vizier," said he, "have you seen your son, and has
he told you anything?" The vizier replied, "No." The sultan related all
the circumstances of which the princess had informed him, and
afterwards said, "I do not doubt but that my daughter has told me the
truth; but nevertheless I should be glad to have it confirmed by your
son, therefore go and ask him how it was."
The grand vizier went immediately to his son, communicated what the
sultan had told him, and enjoined him to conceal nothing, but to relate
the whole truth. "I will disguise nothing from you, father," replied
the son, "for indeed all that the princess has stated is true; but what
relates particularly to myself she knows nothing of. Since my marriage,
I have passed two nights beyond imagination or expression disagreeable,
not to mention the fright I was in at finding my bed lifted four times,
transported from one place to another, without being able to guess how
it was done. You may judge of the miserable condition I was in, passing
two whole nights in nothing but my under vestments, standing in a small
room, unable to stir out of the place or to make the least movement,
though I could not perceive any obstacle to prevent me. Yet I must tell
you, that all this ill usage does not in the least lessen those
sentiments of love, respect, and gratitude I entertain for the
princess, and of which she is so deserving; but I must confess, that
notwithstanding all the honor and splendor that attends marrying my
sovereign's daughter, I would much rather die, than continue in so
exalted an alliance if I must undergo nightly much longer what I have
already endured. I do not doubt but that the princess entertains the
same sentiments, and that she will readily agree to a separation, which
is so necessary both for her repose and mine. Therefore, father, I beg,
by the same tenderness which led you to procure me so great an honor,
to obtain the sultan's consent that our marriage may be declared null
and void."
Notwithstanding the grand vizier's ambition to have his son allied to
the sultan, the firm resolution he saw he had formed to be separated
from the princess made him not think it proper to propose to him to
have patience for a few days, to see if this disappointment would not
have an end; but he left him to give an account of what he had related
to him, and without waiting till the sultan himself, whom he found
disposed to it, spoke of setting aside the marriage, he begged of him
to give his son leave to retire from the palace, alleging it was not
just that the princess should be a moment longer exposed to so terrible
a persecution upon his son's account.
The grand vizier found no great difficulty to obtain what he asked, as
the sultan had determined already; orders were given to put a stop to
all rejoicing in the palace and town, and expresses dispatched to all
parts of his dominions to countermand them; and, in a short time, all
rejoicings ceased.
This sudden and unexpected change gave rise both in the city and
kingdom to various speculations and inquiries; but no other account
could be given of it, except that both the vizier and his son went out
of the palace very much dejected. Nobody but Aladdin knew the secret.
He rejoiced within himself at the happy success procured by his lamp,
which now he had no more occasion to rub, to produce the genie to
prevent the consummation of the marriage, as he had certain information
it was broken off, and that his rival had left the palace. Neither the
sultan nor the grand vizier, who had forgotten Aladdin and his request,
had the least thought that he had any concern in the enchantment which
caused the dissolution of the marriage.
Aladdin waited till the three months were completed, which the sultan
had appointed for the consummation of the marriage between the princess
Buddir al Buddoor and himself; and the next day sent his mother to the
palace, to remind the sultan of his promise.
Aladdin's mother went to the palace, and stood in the same place as
before in the hall of audience. The sultan no sooner cast his eyes upon
her than he knew her again, remembered her business, and how long he
had put her off: therefore when the grand vizier was beginning to make
his report, the sultan interrupted him and said, "Vizier, I see the
good woman who made me the present of jewels some months ago; forbear
your report, till I have heard what she has to say." The vizier looking
about the divan, perceived the tailor's widow, and sent the chief of
the mace-bearers to conduct her to the sultan.
Aladdin's mother came to the foot of the throne, prostrated herself as
usual, and when she rose, the sultan asked her what she would have.
"Sir," said she, "I come to represent to your Majesty, in the name of
my son Aladdin, that the three months, at the end of which you ordered
me to come again, are expired; and to beg you to remember your
promise."
The sultan, when he had fixed a time to answer the request of this good
woman, little thought of hearing any more of a marriage, which he
imagined must be very disagreeable to the princess, when he considered
the meanness and poverty of her dress and appearance; but this summons
for him to fulfill his promise was somewhat embarrassing; he declined
giving an answer till he had consulted his vizier, and signified to him
the little inclination he had to conclude a match for his daughter with
a stranger, whose rank he supposed to be very mean.
The grand vizier freely told the sultan his thoughts, and said to him,
"In my opinion, sir, there is an infallible way for your Majesty to
avoid a match so disproportionable, without giving Aladdin, were he
known to your Majesty, any cause of complaint; which is, to set so high
a price upon the princess, that, however rich he may be, he cannot
comply with. This is the only evasion to make him desist from so bold,
not to say rash, an undertaking, which he never weighed before he
engaged in it."
The sultan, approving of the grand vizier's advice, turned to the
tailor's widow, and said to her, "Good woman, it is true sultans ought
to abide by their word, and I am ready to keep mine, by making your son
happy in marriage with the princess, my daughter. But as I cannot marry
her without some further valuable consideration from your son, you may
tell him, I will fulfill my promise as soon as he shall send me forty
trays of massy gold, full of the same sort of jewels you have already
made me a present of, and carried by the like number of black slaves,
who shall be led by as many young and handsome white slaves, all
dressed magnificently. On these conditions I am ready to bestow the
princess my daughter upon him; therefore, good woman, go and tell him
so, and I will wait till you bring me his answer."
Aladdin's mother prostrated herself a second time before the sultan's
throne and retired. On her way home, she laughed within herself at her
son's foolish imagination. "Where," says she, "can he get so many large
gold trays, and such precious stones to fill them? Must he go again to
that subterraneous abode, the entrance into which is stopped up, and
gather them off the trees? But where will he get so many such slaves as
the sultan requires? It is altogether out of his power, and I believe
he will not be much pleased with my embassy this time." When she came
home, full of these thoughts, she said to her son, "Indeed, child, I
would not have you think any farther of your marriage with the
princess. The sultan received me very kindly, and I believe he was well
inclined to you; but if I am not much deceived the grand vizier has
made him change his mind, as you will guess from what I have to tell
you. After I had represented to his Majesty, that the three months were
expired, and begged of him to remember his promise, I observed that he
whispered with his grand vizier before he gave me his answer." She then
gave her son an exact account of what the sultan had said to her, and
the conditions on which he consented to the match. Afterwards she said
to him, "The sultan expects your answer immediately; but," continued
she, laughing, "I believe he may wait long enough."
"Not so long, mother, as you imagine," replied Aladdin; "the sultan is
mistaken, if he thinks by this exorbitant demand to prevent my
entertaining thoughts of the princess. I expected greater difficulties,
and that he would have set a higher price upon her incomparable charms.
I am very well pleased; his demand is but a trifle to what I could have
done for her. But while I think of satisfying his request, go and get
something for our dinner, and leave the rest to me."
As soon as his mother was gone out to market, Aladdin took the lamp,
and rubbing it, the genie appeared, and offered his service as usual.
"The sultan," said Aladdin to him, "gives me the princess his daughter
in marriage; but demands first forty large trays of massy gold, full of
the fruits of the garden from whence I took this lamp; and these he
expects to have carried by as many black slaves, each preceded by a
young, handsome white slave, richly clothed. Go, and fetch me this
present as soon as possible, that I may send it to him before the divan
breaks up." The genie told him his command should be immediately
obeyed, and disappeared.
In a little time afterwards the genie returned with forty black slaves,
each bearing on his head a heavy tray of pure gold, full of pearls,
diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and every sort of precious stones, all
larger and more beautiful than those presented to the sultan. Each tray
was covered with silver tissue, embroidered with flowers of gold:
these, together with the white slaves, quite filled the house, which
was but a small one, the little court before it, and a small garden
behind. The genie asked if he had any other commands, and Aladdin
telling him that he wanted nothing farther, he disappeared.
When Aladdin's mother came from market, she was much surprised to see
so many people and such vast riches. As soon as she had laid down her
provisions, she was going to pull off her veil; but he prevented her,
and said, "Mother, let us lose no time; before the sultan and the divan
rise, I would have you return to the palace with this present as the
dowry demanded for the princess, that he may judge by my diligence and
exactness of the ardent and sincere desire I have to procure myself the
honor of this alliance." Without waiting for his mother's reply,
Aladdin opened the street door, and made the slaves walk out; each
white slave followed by a black with a tray upon his head. When they
were all out, the mother followed the last black slave, he shut the
door, and then retired to his chamber, full of hopes that the sultan,
after this present, which was such as he required, would receive him as
his son-in-law.
The first white slave who went out made all the people who were going
by stop; and before they were all clear of the house, the streets were
crowded with spectators, who ran to see so extraordinary and
magnificent a procession. The dress of each slave was so rich, both for
the stuff and the jewels, that those who were dealers in them valued
each at no less than a million of money; besides the neatness and
propriety of the dress, the noble air, fine shape and proportion of
each slave were unparalleled; their grave walk at an equal distance
from each other, the luster of the jewels curiously set in their
girdles of gold, in beautiful symmetry, and the egrets of precious
stones in their turbans, which were of an unusual but elegant taste,
put the spectators into such great admiration, that they could not
avoid gazing at them, and following them with their eyes as far as
possible; but the streets were so crowded with people, that none could
move out of the spot they stood on. As they had to pass through several
streets to the palace, a great part of the city had an opportunity of
seeing them. As soon as the first of these slaves arrived at the palace
gate, the porters formed themselves into order, taking him for a prince
from the richness and magnificence of his habit, and were going to kiss
the hem of his garment; but the slave, who was instructed by the genie,
prevented them, and said, "We are only slaves, our master will appear
at a proper time."
The first slave, followed by the rest, advanced into the second court,
which was very spacious, and in which the sultan's household was ranged
during the sitting of the divan. The magnificence of the officers, who
stood at the head of their troops, was considerably eclipsed by the
slaves who bore Aladdin's present, of which they themselves made a
part. Nothing was ever seen so beautiful and brilliant in the sultan's
palace; and all the luster of the lords of his court was not to be
compared to them.
As the sultan, who had been informed of their march and approach to the
palace, had given orders for them to be admitted, they met with no
obstacle, but went into the divan in regular order, one part filing to
the right, and the other to the left. After they entered, and had
formed a semicircle before the sultan's throne, the black slaves laid
the golden trays on the carpet, prostrated themselves, touching the
carpet with their foreheads, and at the same time the white slaves did
the same. When they rose, the black slaves uncovered the trays, and
then all stood with their arms crossed over their breasts.
In the meantime Aladdin's mother advanced to the foot of the throne,
and having paid her respects, said to the sultan, "Sir, my son is
sensible this present, which he has sent your Majesty, is much below
the princess Buddir al Buddoor's worth; but hopes, nevertheless, that
your Majesty will accept of it and make it agreeable to the princess,
and with the greater confidence since he has endeavored to conform to
the conditions you were pleased to impose."
The sultan was not able to give the least attention to this compliment.
The moment he cast his eyes on the forty trays, full of the most
precious, brilliant, and beautiful jewels he had ever seen, and the
fourscore slaves, who appeared by the elegance of their persons, and
the richness and magnificence of their dress, like so many princes, he
was so struck, that he could not recover from his admiration. Instead
of answering the compliment of Aladdin's mother, he addressed himself
to the grand vizier, who could not any more than the sultan comprehend
from whence such a profusion of richness could come. "Well, vizier,"
said he aloud, "who do you think it can be that has sent me so
extraordinary a present, and neither of us know? Do you think him
worthy of the princess Buddir al Buddoor, my daughter?"
The vizier, notwithstanding his envy and grief to see a stranger
preferred to be the sultan's son-in-law before his son, durst not
disguise his sentiments. It was too visible that Aladdin's present was
more than sufficient to merit his being received into royal alliance;
therefore, consulting his master's feelings, he returned this answer:
"I am so far from having any thoughts that the person who has made your
Majesty so noble a present is unworthy of the honor you would do him,
that I should say he deserved much more, if I was not persuaded that
the greatest treasure in the world ought not to be put in competition
with the princess your Majesty's daughter." This speech was applauded
by all the lords who were then in council.
The sultan made no longer hesitation, nor thought of informing himself
whether Aladdin was endowed with all the qualifications requisite in
one who aspired to be his son-in-law. The sight alone of such immense
riches, and Aladdin's quickness in satisfying his demand, without
starting the least difficulty at the exorbitant conditions he had
imposed, easily persuaded him, that he could want nothing to render him
accomplished, and such as he desired. Therefore, to send Aladdin's
mother back with all the satisfaction she could desire, he said to her,
"My good lady, go and tell your son, that I wait with open arms to
embrace him, and the more haste he makes to come and receive the
princess my daughter from my hands, the greater pleasure he will do
me."
As soon as the tailor's widow had retired, overjoyed as a woman in her
condition must have been, to see her son raised beyond all expectations
to such exalted fortune, the sultan put an end to the audience; and
rising from his throne, ordered that the princess's eunuchs should come
and carry the trays into their mistress's apartments, whither he went
himself to examine them with her at his leisure. The fourscore slaves
were conducted into the palace; and the sultan, telling the princess of
their magnificent appearance, ordered them to be brought before her
apartment, that she might see through the lattices he had not
exaggerated in his account of them.
In the meantime Aladdin's mother got home, and showed in her air and
countenance the good news she brought her son. "My son," said she to
him, "you have now all the reason in the world to be pleased: you are,
contrary to my expectations, arrived at the height of your desires. Not
to keep you too long in suspense, the sultan, with the approbation of
the whole court, has declared that you are worthy to possess the
princess Buddir al Buddoor, and waits to embrace you and conclude your
marriage; therefore, you must think of making some preparations for
your interview, which may answer the high opinion he has formed of your
person; and after the wonders I have seen you do, I am persuaded
nothing can be wanting. But I must not forget to tell you, the sultan
waits for you with great impatience; therefore lose no time in paying
your respects."
Aladdin, enraptured with this news, and full of the object which
possessed his soul, made his mother very little reply, but retired to
his chamber. There, after he had rubbed his lamp, which had never
failed him in whatever he wished for, the obedient genie appeared.
"Genie," said Aladdin, "I want to bathe immediately, and you must
afterwards provide me the richest and most magnificent habit ever worn
by a monarch." No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the genie
rendered him, as well as himself, invisible, and transported him into a
hummum of the finest marble of all sorts of colors; where he was
undressed, without seeing by whom, in a magnificent and spacious hall.
From the hall he was led to the bath, which was of a moderate heat, and
he was there rubbed and washed with various scented waters. After he
had passed through several degrees of heat, he came out, quite a
different man from what he was before. His skin was clear white and
red, his body lightsome and free; and when he returned into the hall,
he found, instead of his own, a suit, the magnificence of which
astonished him. The genie helped him to dress, and when he had done,
transported him back to his own chamber, where he asked him if he had
any other commands. "Yes," answered Aladdin, "I expect you to bring me
as soon as possible a charger, that surpasses in beauty and goodness
the best in the sultan's stables, with a saddle, bridle, and other
caparisons worth a million of money. I want also twenty slaves, as
richly clothed as those who carried the present to the sultan, to walk
by my side and follow me, and twenty more to go before me in two ranks.
Besides these, bring my mother six women slaves to attend her, as
richly dressed at least as any of the princess Buddir al Buddoor's,
each carrying a complete dress fit for any sultaness. I want also ten
thousand pieces of gold in ten purses; go and make haste."
As soon as Aladdin had given these orders, the genie disappeared, but
presently returned with the horse, the forty slaves, ten of whom
carried each a purse containing ten thousand pieces of gold, and six
women slaves, each carrying on her head a different dress for Aladdin's
mother, wrapped up in a piece of silver tissue, and presented them all
to Aladdin.
Of the ten purses Aladdin took four, which he gave to his mother,
telling her, those were to supply her with necessaries; the other six
he left in the hands of the slaves who brought them, with an order to
throw them by handfuls among the people as they went to the sultan's
palace. The six slaves who carried the purses he ordered likewise to
march before him, three on the right hand and three on the left.
Afterwards he presented the six women slaves to his mother, telling her
they were her slaves, and that the dresses they had brought were for
her use.
When Aladdin had thus settled matters, he told the genie he would call
for him when he wanted him, and thereupon the genie disappeared.
Aladdin's thoughts now were only upon answering, as soon as possible,
the desire the sultan had shown to see him. He dispatched one of the
forty slaves to the palace, with an order to address himself to the
chief of the porters, to know when he might have the honor to come and
throw himself at the sultan's feet. The slave soon acquitted himself of
his commission, and brought for answer, that the sultan waited for him
with impatience.
Aladdin immediately mounted his charger, and began his march, in the
order we have already described; and though he never was on horseback
before, appeared with such extraordinary grace, that the most
experienced horseman would not have taken him for a novice. The streets
through which he was to pass were almost instantly filled with an
innumerable concourse of people, who made the air echo with their
acclamations, especially every time the six slaves who carried the
purses threw handfuls of gold among the populace. Neither did these
acclamations and shouts of joy come from those alone who scrambled for
the money, but from a superior rank of people, who could not forbear
applauding Aladdin's generosity. Not only those who knew him when he
played in the streets like a vagabond did not recollect him, but those
who saw him but a little while before hardly recognized him, so much
were his features altered: such were the effects of the lamp, as to
procure by degrees to those who possessed it perfections suitable to
the rank to which the right use of it advanced them. Much more
attention was paid to Aladdin's person than to the pomp and
magnificence of his attendants, as a similar show had been seen the day
before when the slaves walked in procession with the present to the
sultan. Nevertheless the horse was much admired by good judges, who
knew how to discern his beauties, without being dazzled by the jewels
and richness of the furniture. When the report was everywhere spread,
that the sultan was going to give the princess in marriage to Aladdin,
nobody regarded his birth, nor envied his good fortune, so worthy he
seemed of it in the public opinion.
When he arrived at the palace, everything was prepared for his
reception; and when he came to the gate of the second court, he would
have alighted from his horse, agreeably to the custom observed by the
grand vizier, the commander in chief of the empire, and governors of
provinces of the first rank; but the chief of the mace-bearers who
waited on him by the sultan's order prevented him, and attended him to
the grand hall of audience where he helped him to dismount; though
Aladdin endeavored to prevent him, but could not prevail. The officers
formed themselves into two ranks at the entrance of the hall. The chief
put Aladdin on his right hand, and through the midst of them led him to
the sultan's throne.
As soon as the sultan perceived Aladdin, he was no less surprised to
see him more richly and magnificently habited than ever he had been
himself, than struck at his good mien, fine shape, and a certain air of
unexpected dignity, very different from the meanness of his mother's
late appearance.
But, notwithstanding, his amazements and surprise did not hinder him
from rising off his throne, and descending two or three steps, quick
enough to prevent Aladdin's throwing himself at his feet. He embraced
him with all the demonstrations of joy at his arrival. After this
civility Aladdin would have thrown himself at his feet again; but he
held him fast by the hand, and obliged him to sit close to the throne.
Aladdin then addressed the sultan, saying, "I receive the honor which
your Majesty out of your great condescension is pleased to confer; but
permit me to assure you, that I have not forgotten that I am your
slave; that I know the greatness of your power, and that I am not
insensible how much my birth is below the splendor and luster of the
high rank to which I am raised. If any way," continued he, "I could
have merited so favorable a reception, I confess I owe it merely to the
boldness which chance inspired in me to raise my eyes, thoughts, and
desires to the divine princess, who is the object of my wishes. I ask
your Majesty's pardon for my rashness, but I cannot dissemble, that I
should die with grief were I to lose my hopes of seeing them
accomplished."
"My son," answered the sultan, embracing him a second time, "you would
wrong me to doubt for a moment of my sincerity; your life from this
moment is too dear to me not to preserve it, by presenting you with the
remedy which is at my disposal. I prefer the pleasure of seeing and
hearing you before all your treasure added to my own."
After these words, the sultan gave a signal, and immediately the air
echoed with the sound of trumpets, hautboys, and other musical
instruments: and at the same time the sultan led Aladdin into a
magnificent hall, where was laid out a most splendid collation. The
sultan and Aladdin ate by themselves, while the grand vizier and the
great lords of the court, according to their dignity and rank, sat at
different tables. The conversation turned on different subjects; but
all the while the sultan took so much pleasure in looking at his
intended son-in-law, that he hardly ever took his eyes off him; and
throughout the whole of their conversation Aladdin showed so much good
sense, as confirmed the sultan in the high opinion he had formed of
him.
After the feast, the sultan sent for the chief judge of his capital,
and ordered him to draw up immediately a contract of marriage between
the princess Buddir al Buddoor his daughter and Aladdin. In the
meantime the sultan and he entered into another conversation on various
subjects, in the presence of the grand vizier and the lords of the
court, who all admired the solidity of his wit, the great ease and
freedom wherewith he delivered himself, the justness of his remarks,
and his energy in expressing them.
When the judge had drawn up the contract in all the requisite forms,
the sultan asked Aladdin if he would stay in the palace, and solemnize
the ceremonies of marriage that day. To which he answered, "Sir, though
great is my impatience to enjoy your Majesty's goodness, yet I beg of
you to give me leave to defer it till I have built a palace fit to
receive the princess; therefore I petition you to grant me a convenient
spot of ground near your palace, that I may the more frequently pay my
respects, and I will take care to have it finished with all diligence."
"Son," said the sultan, "take what ground you think proper, there is
space enough on every quarter round my palace; but consider, I cannot
see you too soon united with my daughter, which alone is wanting to
complete my happiness." After these words he embraced Aladdin again,
who took his leave with as much politeness as if he had been bred up
and had always lived at court.
Aladdin returned home in the order he had come, amidst the acclamations
of the people, who wished him all happiness and prosperity. As soon as
he dismounted, he retired to his own chamber, took the lamp, and called
the genie as before, who in the usual manner made him a tender of his
service. "Genie," said Aladdin, "I have every reason to commend your
exactness in executing hitherto punctually whatever I have demanded;
but now if you have any regard for the lamp your protector, you must
show, if possible, more zeal and diligence than ever. I would have you
build me, as soon as you can, a palace opposite, but at a proper
distance from the sultan's, fit to receive my spouse the princess
Buddir al Buddoor. I leave the choice of the materials to you, that is
to say, porphyry, jasper, agate, lapis lazuli, or the finest marble of
various colors, and also the architecture of the building. But I expect
that on the terraced roof of this palace you will build me a large hall
crowned with a dome, and having four equal fronts; and that instead of
layers of bricks, the walls be formed of massy gold and silver, laid
alternately; that each front shall contain six windows, the lattices of
all of which, except one, which must be left unfinished, shall be so
enriched in the most tasteful workmanship, with diamonds, rubies, and
emeralds, that they shall exceed everything of the kind ever seen in
the world. I would have an inner and outer court in front of the
palace, and a spacious garden; but above all things, take care that
there be laid in a place which you shall point out to me a treasure of
gold and silver coin. Besides, the edifice must be well provided with
kitchens and offices, storehouses, and rooms to keep choice furniture
in, for every season of the year. I must have stables full of the
finest horses, with their equerries and grooms, and hunting equipage.
There must be officers to attend the kitchens and offices, and women
slaves to wait on the princess. You understand what I mean; therefore
go about it, and come and tell me when all is finished."
By the time Aladdin had instructed the genie respecting the building of
his palace, the sun was set. The next morning, before break of day, our
bridegroom, whose love for the princess would not let him sleep, was
up, when the genie presented himself, and said, "Sir, your palace is
finished, come and see how you like it." Aladdin had no sooner
signified his consent, than the genie transported him thither in an
instant, and he found it so much beyond his expectation, that he could
not enough admire it. The genie led him through all the apartments,
where he met with nothing but what was rich and magnificent, with
officers and slaves, all habited according to their rank and the
services to which they were appointed. The genie then showed him the
treasury, which was opened by a treasurer, where Aladdin saw heaps of
purses, of different sizes, piled up to the top of the ceiling, and
disposed in most excellent order. The genie assured him of the
treasurer's fidelity, and thence led him to the stables, where he
showed him some of the finest horses in the world, and the grooms busy
in dressing them; from thence they went to the storehouses, which were
filled with all things necessary, both for food and ornament.
When Aladdin had examined the palace from top to bottom, and
particularly the hall with the four-and-twenty windows, and found it
much beyond whatever he could have imagined, he said, "Genie, no one
can be better satisfied than I am; and indeed I should be much to blame
if I found any fault. There is only one thing wanting which I forgot to
mention; that is, to lay from the sultan's palace to the door of the
apartment designed for the princess, a carpet of fine velvet for her to
walk upon." The genie immediately disappeared, and Aladdin saw what he
desired executed in an instant. The genie then returned, and carried
him home before the gates of the sultan's palace were opened.
When the porters, who had always been used to an open prospect, came to
open the gates, they were amazed to find it obstructed, and to see a
carpet of velvet spread from the grand entrance. They did not
immediately look how far it extended; but when they could discern
Aladdin's palace distinctly, their surprise was increased. The news of
so extraordinary a wonder was presently spread through the palace. The
grand vizier, who arrived soon after the gates were open, being no less
amazed than others at this novelty, ran and acquainted the sultan, but
endeavored to make him believe it to be all enchantment. "Vizier,"
replied the sultan, "why will you have it to be enchantment? You know
as well as I that it must be Aladdin's palace, which I gave him leave
to build, for the reception of my daughter. After the proof we have had
of his riches, can we think it strange, that he should raise a palace
in so short a time? He wished to surprise us, and let us see what
wonders are to be done with money in only one night. Confess sincerely
that the enchantment you talk of proceeds from a little envy on account
of your son's disappointment." The hour of going to council put an end
to the conversation.
When Aladdin had been conveyed home, and had dismissed the genie, he
found his mother up, and dressing herself in one of those suits which
had been brought her. By the time the sultan rose from the council,
Aladdin had prepared his mother to go to the palace with her slaves,
and desired her, if she saw the sultan, to tell him she should do
herself the honor to attend the princess towards evening to her palace.
Accordingly she went; but though she and the women slaves who followed
her were all dressed like sultanesses, yet the crowd was not near so
great as the preceding day, because they were all veiled, and had each
an upper garment on agreeable to the richness and magnificence of their
habits. Aladdin mounted his horse, and took leave of his paternal house
forever, taking care not to forget his wonderful lamp, by the
assistance of which he had reaped such advantages, and arrived at the
utmost height of his wishes, and went to the palace in the same pomp as
the day before.
As soon as the porters of the sultan's palace saw Aladdin's mother,
they went and informed the sultan, who immediately ordered the bands of
trumpets, cymbals, drums, fifes and hautboys, placed in different parts
of the palace, to play, so that the air resounded with concerts which
inspired the whole city with joy: the merchants began to adorn their
shops and houses with fine carpets and silks, and to prepare
illuminations against night. The artisans of every description left
their work, and the populace repaired to the great space between the
royal palace and that of Aladdin; which last drew all their attention,
not only because it was new to them, but because there was no
comparison between the two buildings. But their amazement was to
comprehend by what unheard-of miracle so magnificent a palace could
have been so soon erected, it being apparent to all that there were no
prepared materials, or any foundations laid the day before.
Aladdin's mother was received in the palace with honor, and introduced
into the princess Buddir al Buddoor's apartment by the chief of the
eunuchs. As soon as the princess saw her, she rose, saluted, and
desired her to sit down on a sofa; and while her women finished
dressing, and adorning her with the jewels which Aladdin had presented
to her, a collation was served up. At the same time the sultan, who
wished to be as much with his daughter as possible before he parted
with her, came in and paid the old lady great respect. Aladdin's mother
had talked to the sultan in public, but he had never seen her with her
veil off, as she was then; and though she was somewhat advanced in
years, she had the remains of a good face, which showed what she had
been in her youth. The sultan, who had always seen her dressed very
meanly, not to say poorly, was surprised to find her as richly and
magnificently attired as the princess his daughter. This made him think
Aladdin equally prudent and wise in whatever he undertook.
When it was night, the princess took her leave of the sultan her
father: their adieus were tender, and accompanied with tears. They
embraced each other several times, and at last the princess left her
own apartment for Aladdin's palace, with his mother on her left hand
carried in a superb litter, followed by a hundred women slaves, dressed
with surprising magnificence. All the bands of music, which had played
from the time Aladdin's mother arrived, being joined together, led the
procession, followed by a hundred state ushers, and the like number of
black eunuchs, in two files, with their officers at their head. Four
hundred of the sultan's young pages carried flambeaux on each side,
which, together with the illuminations of the sultan's and Aladdin's
palaces, made it as light as day.
In this order the princess proceeded in her litter on the carpet, which
was spread from the sultan's palace, preceded by bands of musicians,
who, as they advanced, joining with those on the terraces of Aladdin's
palace, formed a concert, which increased the joyful sensations not
only of the crowd assembled in the great square, but of the metropolis
and its environs.
At length the princess arrived at the new palace. Aladdin ran with all
imaginable joy to receive her at the grand entrance. His mother had
taken care to point him out to the princess, in the midst of the
officers who surrounded him, and she was charmed with his person.
"Adorable princess," said Aladdin, accosting her, and saluting her
respectfully, as soon as she had entered her apartment, "if I have the
misfortune to have displeased you by my boldness in aspiring to the
possession of so lovely a princess, and my sultan's daughter, I must
tell you, that you ought to blame your bright eyes and charms, not me."
"Prince (as I may now call you)," answered the princess, "I am obedient
to the will of my father; and it is enough for me to have seen you, to
tell you that I obey without reluctance."
Aladdin, charmed with so agreeable and satisfactory an answer, would
not keep the princess standing; but took her by the hand, which he
kissed with the greatest demonstration of joy, and led her into a large
hall, illuminated with an infinite number of wax candles, where, by the
care of the genie, a noble feast was served up. The dishes were of
massy gold, and contained the most delicate viands. The vases, basins,
and goblets were gold also, and of exquisite workmanship, and all the
other ornaments and embellishments of the hall were answerable to this
display. The princess, dazzled to see so much riches collected in one
place, said to Aladdin, "I thought, prince, that nothing in the world
was so beautiful as the sultan my father's palace, but the sight of
this hall alone is sufficient to show I was deceived."
Aladdin led the princess to the place appointed for her, and as soon as
she and his mother were seated, a band of the most harmonious
instruments, accompanied with the voices of beautiful ladies, began a
concert, which lasted without intermission to the end of the repast.
The princess was so charmed, that she declared she had never heard
anything like it in the sultan her father's court; but she knew not
that these musicians were fairies chosen by the genie, the slave of the
lamp.
When the supper was ended, there entered a company of female dancers,
who performed, according to the custom of the country, several figure
dances, singing at the same time verses in praise of the bride and
bridegroom. About midnight Aladdin's mother conducted the bride to the
nuptial apartment, and he soon after retired.
The next morning when Aladdin left the bridal chamber, his attendants
presented themselves to dress him, and brought him another habit as
rich and magnificent as that worn the day before. He then ordered one
of the horses appointed for his use to be got ready, mounted him, and
went in the midst of a large troop of slaves to the sultan's palace.
The sultan received him with the same honor as before, embraced him,
placed him on the throne near him, and ordered a collation. Aladdin
said, "I beg your Majesty will dispense with my eating with you today;
I came to entreat you to take a repast in the princess's palace,
attended by your grand vizier, and all the lords of your court." The
sultan consented with pleasure, rose up immediately, and, preceded by
the principal officers of his palace, and followed by all the great
lords of his court, accompanied Aladdin.
The nearer the sultan approached Aladdin's palace, the more he was
struck with its beauty, but was much more amazed when he entered it;
and could not forbear breaking out into exclamations of approbation.
But when he came into the hall, and cast his eyes on the windows,
enriched with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, all large perfect stones, he
was so much surprised, that he remained some time motionless. After he
recovered himself, he said to his vizier, "Is it possible that there
should be such a stately palace so near my own, and I be an utter
stranger to it till now?" "Sir," replied the grand vizier, "your
Majesty may remember that the day before yesterday you gave Aladdin,
whom you accepted for your son-in-law, leave to build a palace opposite
your own, and that very day at sunset there was no palace on this spot,
but yesterday I had the honor first to tell you that the palace was
built and finished." "I remember," replied the sultan, "but never
imagined that the palace was one of the wonders of the world; for where
in all the world besides shall we find walls built of massy gold and
silver, instead of brick, stone, or marble; and diamonds, rubies, and
emeralds composing the windows!"
The sultan would examine and admire the beauty of all the windows, and
counting them, found that there were but three and twenty so richly
adorned, and he was greatly astonished that the twenty-fourth was left
imperfect. "Vizier," said he, for that minister made a point of never
leaving him, "I am surprised that a hall of this magnificence should be
left thus imperfect." "Sir," replied the grand vizier, "without doubt
Aladdin only wanted time to finish this window like the rest; for it is
not to be supposed but that he has sufficient jewels for the purpose,
or that he will not complete it at the first opportunity."
Aladdin, who had left the sultan to go and give some orders, returned
just as the vizier had finished his remark. "Son," said the sultan to
him, "this hall is the most worthy of admiration of any in the world;
there is only one thing that surprises me, which is to find one of the
windows unfinished. Is it from the forgetfulness or negligence of the
workmen, or want of time, that they have not put the finishing stroke
to so beautiful a piece of architecture?" "Sir," answered Aladdin, "it
was for none of these reasons that your Majesty sees it in this state.
The omission was by design; it was by my orders that the workmen left
it thus, since I wished that your Majesty should have the glory of
finishing this hall, and of course the palace." "If you did it with
this intention," replied the sultan, "I take it kindly and will give
orders about it immediately." He accordingly sent for the most
considerable jewelers and goldsmiths in his capital.
Aladdin then conducted the sultan into the saloon where he had regaled
his bride the preceding night. The princess entered immediately
afterwards, and received the sultan her father with an air that showed
how much she was satisfied with her marriage. Two tables were
immediately spread with the most delicious meats, all served up in gold
dishes. The sultan, princess, Aladdin, his mother, and the grand vizier
sat down at the first, and all the lords of the court at the second,
which was very long. The sultan was much pleased with the cookery, and
owned he had never eaten anything more excellent. He said the same of
the wines, which were delicious; but what he most of all admired, were
four large beaufets, profusely furnished with large flagons, basins,
and cups, all of massy gold, set with jewels. He was besides charmed
with several bands of music, which were ranged along the hall, and
formed most agreeable concerts.
When the sultan rose from the table, he was informed that the jewelers
and goldsmiths attended; upon which he returned to the hall, and showed
them the window which was unfinished: "I sent for you," said he, "to
fit up this window in as great perfection as the rest; examine them
well, and make all the dispatch you can."
The jewelers and goldsmiths examined the three and twenty windows with
great attention, and after they had consulted together to know what
each could furnish, they returned, and presented themselves before the
sultan, whose principal jeweler, undertaking to speak for the rest,
said, "Sir, we are all willing to exert our utmost care and industry to
obey your Majesty; but among us all we cannot furnish jewels enough for
so great a work." "I have more than are necessary," said the sultan;
"come to my palace, and you shall choose what may answer your purpose."
When the sultan returned to his palace, he ordered his jewels to be
brought out, and the jewelers took a great quantity, particularly those
Aladdin had made him a present of, which they soon used, without making
any great advance in their work. They came again several times for
more, and in a month's time had not finished half their work. In short,
they used all the jewels the sultan had, and borrowed of the vizier,
but yet the work was not half done.
Aladdin, who knew that all the sultan's endeavors to make this window
like the rest were in vain, sent for the jewelers and goldsmiths, and
not only commanded them to desist from their work, but ordered them to
undo what they had begun, and to carry all their jewels back to the
sultan and to the vizier. They undid in a few hours what they had been
six weeks about, and retired, leaving Aladdin alone in the hall. He
took the lamp which he carried about him, rubbed it, and presently the
genie appeared. "Genie," said Aladdin, "I ordered thee to leave one of
the four and twenty windows of this hall imperfect, and thou hast
executed my commands punctually; now I would have thee make it like the
rest." The genie immediately disappeared. Aladdin went out of the hall,
and returning soon after, found the window, as he wished it to be, like
the others.
In the meantime, the jewelers and goldsmiths repaired to the palace,
and were introduced into the sultan's presence; where the chief
jeweler, presenting the precious stones which he had brought back,
said, in the name of all the rest, "Your Majesty knows how long we have
been upon the work you were pleased to set us about, in which we used
all imaginable industry. It was far advanced, when prince Aladdin
commanded us not only to leave off, but to undo what we had already
begun, and bring your Majesty your jewels back." The sultan asked them
if Aladdin had given them any reason for so doing, and they answering
that he had given them none, he ordered a horse to be brought, which he
mounted, and rode to his son-in-law's palace, with some few attendants
on foot. When he came there, he alighted at the staircase, which led up
to the hall with the twenty-four windows, and went directly up to it,
without giving previous notice to Aladdin; but it happened that at that
very juncture Aladdin was opportunely there, and had just time to
receive him at the door.
The sultan, without giving Aladdin time to complain obligingly of his
not having given notice, that he might have acquitted himself with the
more becoming respect, said to him, "Son, I come myself to know the
reason why you commanded the jewelers to desist from work, and take to
pieces what they had done."
Aladdin disguised the true reason, which was, that the sultan was not
rich enough in jewels to be at so great an expense, but said, "I beg of
you now to see if anything is wanting."
The sultan went directly to the window which was left imperfect, and
when he found it like the rest, fancied that he was mistaken, examined
the two windows on each side, and afterwards all the four and twenty;
but when he was convinced that the window which several workmen had
been so long about was finished in so short a time, he embraced
Aladdin, and kissed him between his eyes. "My son," said he, "what a
man you are to do such surprising things always in the twinkling of an
eye: there is not your fellow in the world; the more I know, the more I
admire you."
Aladdin received these praises from the sultan with modesty, and
replied in these words--"Sir, it is a great honor to me to deserve your
Majesty's good-will and approbation, and I assure you, I shall study to
deserve them more."
The sultan returned to his palace, but would not let Aladdin attend
him. When he came there, he found his grand vizier waiting, to whom he
related the wonder he had witnessed, with the utmost admiration, and in
such terms as left the minister no room to doubt but that the fact was
as the sultan related it; though he was the more confirmed in his
belief, that Aladdin's palace was the effect of enchantment, as he had
told the sultan the first moment he saw it. He was going to repeat the
observation, but the sultan interrupted him and said, "You told me so
once before; I see, vizier, you have not forgotten your son's espousals
to my daughter." The grand vizier plainly saw how much the sultan was
prepossessed, therefore avoided disputes, and let him remain in his own
opinion. The sultan as soon as he rose every morning went into the
closet to look at Aladdin's palace, and would go many times in a day to
contemplate and admire it.
Aladdin did not confine himself in his palace; but took care to show
himself once or twice a week in the town, by going sometimes to one
mosque, and sometimes to another, to prayers, or to visit the grand
vizier, who affected to pay his court to him on certain days, or to do
the principal lords of the court the honor to return their visits after
he had regaled them at his palace. Every time he went out, he caused
two slaves, who walked by the side of his horse, to throw handfuls of
money among the people as he passed through the streets and squares,
which were generally on those occasions crowded. Besides, no one came
to his palace gates to ask alms but returned satisfied with his
liberality. In short, he so divided his time, that not a week passed
but he went either once or twice a-hunting, sometimes in the environs
of the city, sometimes farther off; at which time the villages through
which he passed felt the effects of his generosity, which gained him
the love and blessings of the people: and it was common for them to
swear by his head. Thus, without giving the least umbrage to the
sultan, to whom he paid all imaginable respect, Aladdin, by his affable
behavior and liberality, had won the affections of the people, and was
more beloved than the sultan himself. With all these good qualities he
showed a courage and a zeal for the public good which could not be
sufficiently applauded. He gave sufficient proofs of both in a revolt
on the borders of the kingdom; for he no sooner understood that the
sultan was levying an army to disperse the rebels than he begged the
command of it, which he found not difficult to obtain. As soon as he
was empowered, he marched with so much expedition, that the sultan
heard of the defeat of the rebels before he had received an account of
his arrival in the army. And though this action rendered his name
famous throughout the kingdom, it made no alteration in his
disposition; but he was as affable after his victory as before.
Aladdin had conducted himself in this manner several years, when the
African magician, who undesignedly had been the instrument of raising
him to so high a pitch of prosperity, recalled him to his recollection
in Africa, whither, after his expedition, he had returned. And though
he was almost persuaded that Aladdin must have died miserably in the
subterraneous abode where he had left him, yet he had the curiosity to
inform himself about his end with certainty; and as he was a great
geomancer, he took out of a cupboard a square covered box, which he
used in his geomantic observations: then sat himself down on his sofa,
set it before him, and uncovered it. After he had prepared and leveled
the sand which was in it, with an intention to discover whether or no
Aladdin had died in the subterraneous abode, he cast the points, drew
the figures, and formed a horoscope, by which, when he came to examine
it, he found that Aladdin, instead of dying in the cave, had made his
escape, lived splendidly, was in possession of the wonderful lamp, had
married a princess, and was much honored and respected.
The magician no sooner understood by the rules of his diabolical art,
that Aladdin had arrived to this height of good fortune, than his face
became inflamed with anger, and he cried out in a rage, "This sorry
tailor's son has discovered the secret and virtue of the lamp! I
believed his death to be certain, but find that he enjoys the fruit of
my labor and study! I will, however, prevent his enjoying it long, or
perish in the attempt." He was not a great while deliberating on what
he should do, but the next morning mounted a barb, set forwards, and
never stopped but to refresh himself and horse, till he arrived at the
capital of China. He alighted, took up his lodging in a khan, and
stayed there the remainder of the day and the night, to refresh himself
after so long a journey.
The next day, his first object was to inquire what people said of
Aladdin; and, taking a walk through the town, he went to the most
public and frequented places, where persons of the best distinction met
to drink a certain warm liquor, which he had drunk often during his
former visit. As soon as he had seated himself, he was presented with a
cup of it, which he took; but listening at the same time to the
discourse of the company on each side of him, he heard them talking of
Aladdin's palace. When he had drunk off his liquor, he joined them, and
taking this opportunity, inquired particularly of what palace they
spoke with so much commendation. "From whence come you?" said the
person to whom he addressed himself; "you must certainly be a stranger
not to have seen or heard of prince Aladdin's palace (for he was called
so after his marriage with the princess). I do not say," continued the
man, "that it is one of the wonders of the world, but that it is the
only wonder of the world; since nothing so grand, rich, and magnificent
was ever beheld. Certainly you must have come from a great distance, or
some obscure corner, not to have heard of it, for it must have been
talked of all over the world. Go and see it, and then judge whether I
have told you more than the truth." "Forgive my ignorance," replied the
African magician; "I arrived here but yesterday, and came from the
farthest part of Africa, where the fame of this palace had not reached
when I came away. The business which brought me hither was so urgent,
that my sole object was to arrive as soon as I could, without stopping
anywhere, or making any acquaintance. But I will not fail to go and see
it; my impatience is so great, I will go immediately and satisfy my
curiosity, if you will do me a favor to show me the way thither."
The person to whom the African magician addressed himself took a
pleasure in showing him the way to Aladdin's palace, and he got up and
went thither instantly. When he came to the palace, and had examined it
on all sides, he doubted not but Aladdin had made use of the lamp to
build it. Without attending to the inability of a poor tailor's son, he
knew that none but the genii, the slaves of the lamp, the attaining of
which he had missed, could have performed such wonders; and piqued to
the quick at Aladdin's happiness and splendor, he returned to the khan
where he lodged.
The next point was to ascertain where the lamp was; whether Aladdin
carried it about with him, or where he kept it; and this he was to
discover by an operation of geomancy. As soon as he entered his
lodging, he took his square box of sand, which he always carried with
him when he traveled, and after he had performed some operations, he
found that the lamp was in Aladdin's palace, and so great was his joy
at the discovery that he could hardly contain himself. "Well," said he,
"I shall have the lamp, and I defy Aladdin's preventing my carrying it
off, and making him sink to his original meanness, from which he has
taken so high a flight."
It was Aladdin's misfortune at that time to be absent in the chase for
eight days, and only three were expired, which the magician came to
know by this means. After he had performed the magical operation, which
gave him so much joy, he went to the superintendent of the khan,
entered into conversation with him on indifferent subjects, and among
the rest, told him he had been to see Aladdin's palace; and after
exaggerating on all that he, had seen most worthy of observation,
added, "But my curiosity leads me farther, and I shall not be satisfied
till I have seen the person to whom this wonderful edifice belongs."
"That will be no difficult matter," replied the master of the khan;
"there is not a day passes but he gives an opportunity when he is in
town, but at present he is not at the palace, and has been gone these
three days on a hunting-match, which will last eight."
The magician wanted to know no more; he took his leave of the
superintendent of the khan, and returning to his own chamber, said to
himself, "This is an opportunity I ought by no means to neglect, but
must make the best use of it." To that end, he went to a coppersmith,
and asked for a dozen copper lamps: the master of the shop told him he
had not so many by him, but if he would have patience till the next
day, he would have them ready. The magician appointed his time, and
desired him to take care that they should be handsome and well
polished. After promising to pay him well, he returned to his inn.
The next day the magician called for the twelve lamps, paid the man his
full price, put them into a basket which he bought on purpose, and with
the basket hanging on his arm, went directly to Aladdin's palace; as he
approached he began crying, "Who will change old lamps for new ones?"
As he went along, a crowd of children collected, who hooted, and
thought him, as did all who chanced to be passing by, a madman or a
fool, to offer to change new lamps for old ones.
The African magician regarded not their scoffs, hootings, or all they
could say to him, but still continued crying, "Who will change old
lamps for new?" He repeated this so often, walking backwards and
forwards in front of the palace, that the princess, who was then in the
hall with the four-and-twenty windows, hearing a man cry something, and
not being able to distinguish his words, owing to the hooting of the
children and increasing mob about him, sent one of her women slaves to
know what he cried.
The slave was not long before she returned, and ran into the hall,
laughing so heartily, that the princess could not forbear herself.
"Well, giggler," said the princess, "will you tell me what you laugh
at?" "Madam," answered the slave, laughing still, "who can forbear
laughing, to see a fool with a basket on his arm, full of fine new
lamps, ask to change them for old ones; the children and mob, crowding
about him so that he can hardly stir, make all the noise they can in
derision of him."
Another female slave hearing this said, "Now you speak of lamps, I know
not whether the princess may have observed it, but there is an old one
upon a shelf of the prince's robing-room, and whoever owns it will not
be sorry to find a new one in its stead. If the princess chooses, she
may have the pleasure of trying if this fool is so silly as to give a
new lamp for an old one, without taking anything for the exchange."
The lamp this slave spoke of was the wonderful lamp, which Aladdin had
laid upon the shelf before he departed for the chase: this he had done
several times before; but neither the princess, the slaves, nor the
eunuchs had ever taken notice of it. At all other times except when
hunting he carried it about his person.
The princess, who knew not the value of this lamp, and the interest
that Aladdin, not to mention herself, had to keep it safe, entered into
the pleasantry, and commanded a eunuch to take it, and make the
exchange. The eunuch obeyed, went out of the hall, and no sooner got to
the palace gates than he saw the African magician, called to him, and
showing him the old lamp, said, "Give me a new lamp for this."
The magician never doubted but this was the lamp he wanted. There could
be no other such in this palace, where every utensil was gold or
silver. He snatched it eagerly out of the eunuch's hand, and thrusting
it as far as he could into his breast, offered him his basket, and bade
him choose which he liked best. The eunuch picked out one, and carried
it to the princess; but the exchange was no sooner made than the place
rang with the shouts of the children, deriding the magician's folly.
The African magician gave everybody leave to laugh as much as they
pleased; he stayed not long near the palace, but made the best of his
way, without crying any longer, "New lamps for old ones." His end was
answered, and by his silence he got rid of the children and the mob.
As soon as he was out of the square between the two palaces, he
hastened down the streets which were the least frequented; and having
no more occasion for his lamps or basket, set all down in an alley
where nobody saw him: then going down another street or two, he walked
till he came to one of the city gates, and pursuing his way through the
suburbs, which were very extensive, at length reached a lonely spot,
where he stopped for a time to execute the design he had in
contemplation, never caring for his horse which he had left at the
khan; but thinking himself perfectly compensated by the treasure he had
acquired. In this place the African magician passed the remainder of
the day, till the darkest time of night, when he pulled the lamp out of
his breast and rubbed it. At that summons the genie appeared, and said,
"What wouldst thou have? I am ready to obey thee as thy slave, and the
slave of all those who have that lamp in their hands; both I and the
other slaves of the lamp." "I command thee," replied the magician, "to
transport me immediately and the palace which thou and the other slaves
of the lamp have built in this city, with all the people in it, to
Africa." The genie made no reply, but with the assistance of the other
genii, the slaves of the lamp immediately transported him and the
palace entire, to the spot whither he was desired to convey it.
As soon as the sultan rose the next morning, according to custom he
went into his closet, to have the pleasure of contemplating and
admiring Aladdin's palace; but when he first looked that way, and
instead of a palace saw an empty space such as it was before the palace
was built, he thought he was mistaken, and rubbed his eyes; but when he
looked again, he saw nothing more the second time than the first,
though the weather was fine, the sky clear, and the dawn advancing had
made all objects very distinct. He looked again in front, to the right
and left, but beheld nothing more than he had formerly been used to see
from his window. His amazement was so great, that he stood for some
time turning his eyes to the spot where the palace had stood, but where
it was no longer to be seen. He could not comprehend how so large a
palace as Aladdin's, which he had seen plainly every day for some
years, and but the day before, should vanish so soon, and not leave the
least remains behind. "Certainly," said he to himself, "I am not
mistaken; it stood there: if it had fallen, the materials would have
lain in heaps; and if it had been swallowed up by an earthquake, there
would be some mark left." At last, though he was convinced that no
palace stood now opposite his own, he could not help staying some time
at his window, to see whether he might not be mistaken. At last he
retired to his apartment, not without looking behind him before he
quitted the spot, ordered the grand vizier to be sent for with
expedition, and in the meantime sat down, his mind agitated by so many
different conjectures that he knew not what to resolve.
The grand vizier did not make the sultan wait long for him, but came
with so much precipitation, that neither he nor his attendants, as they
passed, missed Aladdin's palace; neither did the porters, when they
opened the palace gates, observe any alteration.
When he came into the sultan's presence, he said to him, "The haste in
which your Majesty sent for me, makes me believe something
extraordinary has happened, since you know this is a day of public
audience, and I should not have failed of attending at the usual time."
"Indeed," said the sultan, "it is something very extraordinary, as you
say, and you will allow it to be so: tell me what is become of
Aladdin's palace?" "His palace!" replied the grand vizier, in
amazement, "I thought as I passed it stood in its usual place; such
substantial buildings are not so easily removed."
"Go into my closet," said the sultan, "and tell me if you can see it."
The grand vizier went into the closet, where he was struck with no less
amazement than the sultan had been. When he was well assured that there
was not the least appearance of the palace, he returned to the sultan.
"Well," said the sultan, "have you seen Aladdin's palace?" "No,"
answered the vizier, "but your Majesty may remember, that I had the
honor to tell you, that palace, which was the subject of your
admiration, with all its immense riches, was only the work of magic and
a magician; but your Majesty would not pay the least attention to what
I said."
The sultan, who could not deny what the grand vizier had represented to
him, flew into the greater passion: "Where is that impostor, that
wicked wretch," said he, "that I may have his head taken off
immediately?" "Sir," replied the grand vizier, "it is some days since
he came to take his leave of your Majesty, on pretense of hunting; he
ought to be sent for, to know what is become of his palace, since he
cannot be ignorant of what has been transacted." "That is too great an
indulgence," replied the sultan: "command a detachment of horse to
bring him to me loaded with chains." The grand vizier gave orders for a
detachment, and instructed the officer who commanded them how they were
to act, that Aladdin might not escape. The detachment pursued their
orders; and about five or six leagues from the town met him returning
from the chase. The officer advanced respectfully, and informed him the
sultan was so impatient to see him, that he had sent his party to
accompany him home.
Aladdin had not the least suspicion of the true reason of their meeting
him; but when he came within half a league of the city, the detachment
surrounded him, when the officer addressed himself to him, and said,
"Prince, it is with great regret that I declare to you the sultan's
order to arrest you, and to carry you before him as a criminal: I beg
of you not to take it ill that we acquit ourselves of our duty, and to
forgive us."
Aladdin, who felt himself innocent, was much surprised at this
declaration, and asked the officer if he knew what crime he was accused
of; who replied, he did not. Then Aladdin, finding that his retinue was
much inferior to this detachment, alighted off his horse, and said to
the officers, "Execute your orders; I am not conscious that I have
committed any offense against the sultan's person or government." A
heavy chain was immediately put about his neck, and fastened round his
body, so that both his arms were pinioned down; the officer then put
himself at the head of the detachment, and one of the troopers taking
hold of the end of the chain and proceeding after the officer, led
Aladdin, who was obliged to follow him on foot, into the city.
When this detachment entered the suburbs, the people, who saw Aladdin
thus led as a state criminal, never doubted but that his head was to be
cut off; and as he was generally beloved, some took sabers and other
arms; and those who had none gathered stones, and followed the escort.
The last division faced about to disperse them; but their numbers
presently increased so much, that the soldiery began to think it would
be well if they could get into the sultan's palace before Aladdin was
rescued; to prevent which, according to the different extent of the
streets, they took care to cover the ground by extending or closing. In
this manner they with much difficulty arrived at the palace square, and
there drew up in a line, till their officers and troopers with Aladdin
had got within the gates, which were immediately shut.
Aladdin was carried before the sultan, who waited for him, attended by
the grand vizier, in a balcony; and as soon as he saw him, he ordered
the executioner, who waited there for the purpose, to strike off his
head without hearing him, or giving him leave to clear himself.
As soon as the executioner had taken off the chain that was fastened
about Aladdin's neck and body, and laid down a skin stained with the
blood of the many he had executed, he made the supposed criminal kneel
down, and tied a bandage over his eyes. Then drawing his saber, he took
his aim by flourishing it three times in the air, waiting for the
sultan's giving the signal to strike.
At that instant the grand vizier, perceiving that the populace had
forced the guard of horse, crowded the great square before the palace,
and were scaling the walls in several places, and beginning to pull
them down to force their way in, said to the sultan, before he gave the
signal, "I beg of your Majesty to consider what you are going to do,
since you will hazard your palace being destroyed; and who knows what
fatal consequence may follow?" "My palace forced!'" replied the sultan;
"who can have that audacity?" "Sir," answered the grand vizier, "if
your Majesty will but cast your eyes towards the great square, and on
the palace walls, you will perceive the truth of what I say."
The sultan was so much alarmed when he saw so great a crowd, and how
enraged they were, that he ordered the executioner to put his saber
immediately into the scabbard, to unbind Aladdin, and at the same time
commanded the porters to declare to the people that the sultan had
pardoned him, and that they might retire.
Those who had already got upon the walls, and were witnesses of what
had passed, abandoned their design and got quickly down, overjoyed that
they had saved the life of a man they dearly loved, and published the
news amongst the rest, which was presently confirmed by the mace-
bearers from the top of the terraces. The justice which the sultan had
done to Aladdin soon disarmed the populace of their rage; the tumult
abated, and the mob dispersed.
When Aladdin found himself at liberty, he turned towards the balcony,
and perceiving the sultan, raised his voice, and said to him in a
moving manner, "I beg of your Majesty to add one favor more to that
which I have already received, which is, to let me know my crime."
"Your crime!" answered the sultan; "perfidious wretch! do you not know
it? Come hither, and I will show it you."
Aladdin went up, when the sultan, going before him without looking at
him, said, "Follow me;" and then led him into his closet. When he came
to the door, he said, "Go in; you ought to know whereabouts your palace
stood: look round and tell me what is become of it."
Aladdin looked, but saw nothing. He perceived the spot upon which his
palace had stood; but not being able to divine how it had disappeared,
was thrown into such great confusion and amazement, that he could not
return one word of answer.
The sultan growing impatient, demanded of him again, "Where is your
palace, and what is become of my daughter?" Aladdin breaking silence,
replied, "Sir, I perceive and own that the palace which I have built is
not in its place, but is vanished; neither can I tell your Majesty
where it may be, but can assure you I had no concern in its removal."
"I am not so much concerned about your palace," replied the sultan; "I
value my daughter ten thousand times more, and would have you find her
out, otherwise I will cause your head to be struck off, and no
consideration shall divert me from my purpose."
"I beg of your Majesty," answered Aladdin, "to grant me forty days to
make my inquiries; and if in that time I have not the success I wish, I
will offer my head at the foot of your throne, to be disposed of at
your pleasure." "I give you the forty days you ask," said the sultan;
"but think not to abuse the favor I show you, by imagining you shall
escape my resentment; for I will find you out in whatsoever part of the
world you may conceal yourself."
Aladdin went out of the sultan's presence with great humiliation, and
in a condition worthy of pity. He crossed the courts of the palace,
hanging down his head, and in such great confusion, that he durst not
lift up his eyes. The principal officers of the court, who had all
professed themselves his friends, and whom he had never disobliged,
instead of going up to him to comfort him, and offer him a retreat in
their houses, turned their backs to avoid seeing him. But had they
accosted him with a word of comfort or offer of service, they would
have no more known Aladdin. He did not know himself, and was no longer
in his senses, as plainly appeared by his asking everybody he met, and
at every house, if they had seen his palace, or could tell him any news
of it.
These questions made the generality believe that Aladdin was mad. Some
laughed at him, but people of sense and humanity, particularly those
who had had any connection of business or friendship with him, really
pitied him. For three days he rambled about the city in this manner,
without coming to any resolution, or eating anything but what some
compassionate people forced him to take out of charity.
At last, as he could no longer in his unhappy condition stay in a city
where he had lately been next to the sultan, he took the road to the
country; and after he had traversed several fields in wild uncertainty,
at the approach of night came to the bank of a river. There, possessed
by his despair, he said to himself, "Where shall I seek my palace? In
what province, country, or part of the world, shall I find that and my
dear princess, whom the sultan expects from me? I shall never succeed:
I had better free myself at once from fruitless endeavors, and such
bitter grief as preys upon me." He was just going to throw himself into
the river, but, as a good Moosulmaun, true to his religion, he thought
he should not do it without first saying his prayers. Going to prepare
himself, he went to the river's brink, in order to perform the usual
ablutions. The place being steep and slippery, from the water's beating
against it, he slid down, and had certainly fallen into the river, but
for a little rock which projected about two feet out of the earth.
Happily also for him he still had on the ring which the African
magician had put on his finger before he went down into the
subterraneous abode to fetch the precious lamp. In slipping down the
bank he rubbed the ring so hard by holding on the rock, that
immediately the same genie appeared whom he had seen in the cave where
the magician had left him. "What wouldst thou have?" said the genie. "I
am ready to obey thee as thy slave, and the slave of all those that
have that ring on their finger; both I and the other slaves of the
ring."
Aladdin, agreeably surprised at an apparition he so little expected in
his present calamity, replied, "Save my life, genie, a second time,
either by showing me to the place where the palace I caused to be built
now stands, or immediately transporting it back where it first stood."
"What you command me," answered the genie, "is not wholly in my power:
I am only the slave of the ring; you must address yourself to the slave
of the lamp." "If that be the case," replied Aladdin, "I command thee,
by the power of the ring, to transport me to the spot where my palace
stands, in what part of the world soever it may be, and set me down
under the window of the princess Buddir al Buddoor." These words were
no sooner out of his mouth, than the genie transported him into Africa,
to the midst of a large plain, where his palace stood, at no great
distance from a city, and placing him exactly under the window of the
princess's apartment, left him. All this was done almost in an instant.
Aladdin, notwithstanding the darkness of the night, knew his palace and
the princess Buddir al Buddoor's apartment again; but as the night was
far advanced, and all was quiet in the palace, he retired to some
distance, and sat down at the foot of a large tree. There, full of
hopes, and reflecting on his happiness, for which he was indebted to
chance, he found himself in a much more comfortable situation than when
he was arrested and carried before the sultan; being now delivered from
the immediate danger of losing his life. He amused himself for some
time with these agreeable thoughts; but not having slept for two days,
was not able to resist the drowsiness which came upon him, but fell
fast asleep.
The next morning, as soon as day appeared, Aladdin was agreeably
awakened by the singing not only of the birds which had roosted in the
tree under which he had passed the night, but also of those which
frequented the thick groves of the palace garden. When he cast his eyes
on that wonderful edifice, he felt inexpressible joy at thinking he
might possibly soon be master of it again, and once more possess his
dear princess Buddir al Buddoor. Pleased with these hopes, he
immediately arose, went towards the princess's apartment, and walked
some time under the window in expectation of her rising, that he might
see her. During this expectation, he began to consider with himself
whence the cause of his misfortune had proceeded; and after mature
reflection, no longer doubted that it was owing to having trusted the
lamp out of his sight. He accused himself of negligence in letting it
be a moment away from him. But what puzzled him most was, that he could
not imagine who had been so envious of his happiness. He would soon
have guessed this, if he had known that both he and his palace were in
Africa, the very name of which would soon have made him remember the
magician, his declared enemy; but the genie, the slave of the ring, had
not made the least mention of the name of the country, nor had Aladdin
inquired.
The princess rose earlier that morning than she had done since her
transportation into Africa by the magician, whose presence she was
forced to support once a day, because he was master of the palace; but
she had always treated him so harshly that he dared not reside in it.
As she was dressing, one of the women looking through the window
perceived Aladdin, and instantly told her mistress. The princess, who
could not believe the joyful tidings, hastened herself to the window,
and seeing Aladdin, immediately opened it. The noise of opening the
window made Aladdin turn his head that way, and perceiving the princess
he saluted her with an air that expressed his joy. "To lose no time,"
said she to him, "I have sent to have the private door opened for you;
enter, and come up."
The private door, which was just under the princess's apartment, was
soon opened, and Aladdin conducted up into the chamber. It is
impossible to express the joy of both at seeing each other, after so
cruel a separation. After embracing and shedding tears of joy, they sat
down, and Aladdin said, "I beg of you, princess, in God's name, before
we talk of anything else, to tell me, both for your own sake, the
sultan your father's, and mine, what is become of an old lamp which I
left upon a shelf in my robing-chamber, when I departed for the chase."
"Alas! dear husband," answered the princess, "I was afraid our
misfortune might be owing to that lamp: and what grieves me most is,
that I have been the cause of it." "Princess," replied Aladdin, "do not
blame yourself, since it was entirely my fault, for I ought to have
taken more care of it. But let us now think only of repairing the loss;
tell me what has happened, and into whose hands it has fallen."
The princess then related how she had changed the old lamp for a new
one, which she ordered to be fetched, that he might see it, and how the
next morning she found herself in the unknown country they were then
in, which she was told was Africa, by the traitor who had transported
her thither by his magic art.
"Princess," said Aladdin, interrupting her, "you have informed me who
the traitor is, by telling me we are in Africa. He is the most
perfidious of men; but this is neither a time nor place to give you a
full account of his villainies. I desire you only to tell me what he
has done with the lamp, and where he has put it." "He carries it
carefully wrapped up in his bosom," said the princess; "and this I can
assure you, because he pulled it out before me, and showed it to me in
triumph."
"Princess," said Aladdin, "do not be displeased that I trouble you with
so many questions, since they are equally important to us both. But to
come to what most particularly concerns me; tell me, I conjure you, how
so wicked and perfidious a man treats you." "Since I have been here,"
replied the princess, "he repairs once every day to see me; and I am
persuaded the little satisfaction he receives from his visits makes him
come no oftener. All his addresses tend to persuade me to break that
faith I have pledged to you, and to take him for my husband; giving me
to understand, I need not entertain hopes of ever seeing you again, for
that you were dead, having had your head struck off by the sultan my
father's order. He added, to justify himself, that you were an
ungrateful wretch; that your good fortune was owing to him, and a great
many other things of that nature which I forbear to repeat: but as he
received no other answer from me but grievous complaints and tears, he
was always forced to retire with as little satisfaction as he came. I
doubt not his intention is to allow me time to overcome my grief, in
hopes that afterwards I may change my sentiments; and if I persevere in
an obstinate refusal, to use violence. But my dear husband's presence
removes all my apprehensions."
"I am confident my attempts to punish the magician will not be in
vain," replied Aladdin, "since my princess's fears are removed, and I
think I have found the means to deliver you from both your enemy and
mine; to execute this design, it is necessary for me to go to the town.
I shall return by noon, and will then communicate my design and what
mus 
Types of Childrens Literature / Barnes, Walter, 1880-