by Andrew Lang
All at once one of the little boys took up the Tin-soldier, and threw him into the stove, giving no reasons; but doubtless the little black imp in the snuff-box was at the bottom of this too.
There the Tin-soldier lay, and felt a heat that was truly terrible; but whether he was suffering from actual fire, or from the ardour of his passion, he did not know. All his colour had disappeared; whether this had happened on his travels or whether it was the result of trouble, who can say? He looked at the little lady, she looked at him, and he felt that he was melting; but he remained steadfast, with his gun at his shoulder. Suddenly a door opened, the draught caught up the little Dancer, and off she flew like a sylph to the Tin-soldier in the stove, burst into flames-and that was the end of her! Then the Tin-soldier melted down into a little lump, and when next morning the maid was taking out the ashes, she found him in the shape of a heart. There was nothing left of the little Dancer but her gilt rose, burnt as black as a cinder.
BLOCKHEAD HANS
Far away in the country lay an old manor-house where lived an old squire who had two sons. They thought themselves so clever, that if they had known only half of what they did know, it would have been quite enough. They both wanted to marry the King's daughter, for she had proclaimed that she would have for her husband the man who knew best how to choose his words.
Both prepared for the wooing a whole week, which was the longest time allowed them; but, after all, it was quite long enough, for they both had preparatory knowledge, and everyone knows how useful that is. One knew the whole Latin dictionary and also three years' issue of the daily paper of the town off by heart, so that he could repeat it all backwards or forwards as you pleased. The other had worked at the laws of corporation, and knew by heart what every member of the corporation ought to know, so that he thought he could quite well speak on State matters and give his opinion. He understood, besides this, how to embroider braces with roses and other flowers, and scrolls, for he was very ready with his fingers.
'I shall win the king's daughter!' they both cried.
Their old father gave each of them a fine horse; the one who knew the dictionary and the daily paper by heart had a black horse, while the other who was so clever at corporation law had a milk-white one. Then they oiled the corners of their mouths so that they might be able to speak more fluently. All the servants stood in the courtyard and saw them mount their steeds, and here by chance came the third brother; for the squire had three sons, but nobody counted him with his brothers, for he was not so learned as they were, and he was generally called 'Blockhead-Hans.'
'Oh, oh!' said Blockhead-Hans. 'Where are you off to? You are in your Sunday-best clothes!'
'We are going to Court, to woo the Princess! Don't you know what is known throughout all the country side?' And they told him all about it.
'Hurrah! I'll go too!' cried Blockhead-Hans; and the brothers laughed at him and rode off.
'Dear father!' cried Blockhead-Hans, 'I must have a horse too. What a desire for marriage has seized me! If she will have me, she will have me, and if she won't have me, I will have her.'
'Stop that nonsense!' said the old man. 'I will not give you a horse. You can't speak; you don't know how to choose your words. Your brothers! Ah! they are very different lads!'
'Well,' said Blockhead-Hans, 'if I can't have a horse, I will take the goat which is mine; he can carry me!'
And he did so. He sat astride on the goat, struck his heels into its side, and went rattling down the high-road like a hurricane.
Hoppetty hop! what a ride! 'Here I come!' shouted Blockhead-Hans, singing so that the echoes were roused far and near. But his brothers were riding slowly in front. They were not speaking, but they were thinking over all the good things they were going to say, for everything had to be thought out.
'Hullo!' bawled Blockhead-Hans, 'here I am! Just look what I found on the road!'-and he showed them a dead crow which he had picked up.
'Blockhead!' said his brothers, 'what are you going to do with it?'
'With the crow? I shall give it to the Princess!'
'Do so, certainly!' they said, laughing loudly and riding on.
'Slap! bang! here I am again! Look what I have just found! You don't find such things every day on the road!'
And the brothers turned round to see what in the world he could have found.
'Blockhead!' said they, 'that is an old wooden shoe without the top! Are you going to send that, too, to the Princess?'
'Of course I shall!' returned Blockhead-Hans; and the brothers laughed and rode on a good way.
'Slap! bang! here I am!' cried Blockhead-Hans; better and better-it is really famous!'
'What have you found now?' asked the brothers. 'Oh,' said Blockhead-Hans, 'it is really too good! How pleased the Princess will be!'
'Why!' said the brothers,'this is pure mud, straight from the ditch.'
'Of course it is!' said Blockhead-Hans, 'and it is the best kind! Look how it runs through one's fingers!' and, so saying, he filled his pocket with the mud.
But the brothers rode on so fast that dust and sparks flew all around, and they reached the gate of the town a good hour before Blockhead-Hans. Here came the suitors numbered according to their arrival, and they were ranged in rows, six in each row, and they were so tightly packed that they could not move their arms. This was a very good thing, for otherwise they would have torn each other in pieces, merely because the one was in front of the other.
All the country people were standing round the King's throne, and were crowded together in thick masses almost out of the windows to see the Princess receive the suitors; and as each one came into the room all his fine phrases went out like a candle!
'It doesn't matter!' said the Princess. 'Away! out with him!'
At last she came to the row in which the brother who knew the dictionary by heart was, but he did not know it any longer; he had quite forgotten it in the rank and file. And the floor creaked, and the ceiling was all made of glass mirrors, so that he saw himself standing on his head, and by each window were standing three reporters and an editor; and each of them was writing down what was said, to publish it in the paper that came out and was sold at the street corners for a penny. It was fearful, and they had made up the fire so hot that it was grilling.
'It is hot in here, isn't it!' said the suitor.
'Of course it is!' My father is roasting young chickens to-day!' said the Princess.
'Ahem!' There he stood like an idiot. He was not prepared for such a speech; he did not know what to say, although he wanted to say something witty. 'Ahem!'
'It doesn't matter!' said the Princess. 'Take him out!' and out he had to go.
Now the other brother entered.
'How hot it is!' he said.
'Of course! We are roasting young chickens to-day!' remarked the Princess.
'How do you-um!' he said, and the reporters wrote down. 'How do you-um.'
'It doesn't matter!' said the Princess. 'Take him out!'
Now Blockhead-Hans came in; he rode his goat right into the hall.
'I say! How roasting hot it is here!' said he.
'Of course! I am roasting young chickens to-day!' said the Princess.
'That's good!' replied Blockhead-Hans; 'then can I roast a crow with them?'
'With the greatest of pleasure!' said the Princess; 'but have you anything you can roast them in? for I have neither pot nor saucepan.'
The Reporters giggled amp; each dropped a blot of ink on the floor
Then I will give the Editor the best! said Blockhead-Hans
That was neatly done! said the Princess
'Oh, rather!' said Blockhead-Hans. 'Here is a cooking implement with tin rings,' and he drew out the old wooden shoe, and laid the crow in it.
'That is quite a meal!' said the Princess; 'but where shall we get the soup from?'
'I've got that in my pocket!' said Blockhead-Hans. 'I have so much that I can quite well throw some away!' and he poured som
e mud out of his pocket.
'I like you!' said the Princess. 'You can answer, and you can speak, and I will marry you; but do you know that every word which we are saying and have said has been taken down and will be in the paper to-morrow? By each window do you see there are standing three reporters and an old editor, and this old editor is the worst, for he doesn't understand anything!' but she only said this to tease Blockhead-Hans. And the reporters giggled, and each dropped a blot of ink on the floor.
'Ah! are those the great people?' said Blockhead-Hans. 'Then I will give the editor the best!' So saying, he turned his pockets inside out, and threw the mud right in his face.
'That was neatly done!' said the Princess. 'I couldn't have done it; but I will soon learn how to!'
Blockhead-Hans became King, got a wife and a crown, and sat on the throne; and this we have still damp from the newspaper of the editor and the reporters-and they are not to be believed for a moment.
A STORY ABOUT A DARNING-NEEDLE
There was once a Darning-needle who thought herself so fine that she believed she was an embroidery-needle. 'Take great care to hold me tight!' said the Darning-needle to the Fingers who were holding her. 'Don't let me fall! If I once fall on the ground I shall never be found again, I am so fine!'
'It is all right!' said the Fingers, seizing her round the waist.
'Look, I am coming with my train!' said the Darning-needle as she drew a long thread after her; but there was no knot at the end of the thread.
The Fingers were using the needle on the cook's shoe. The upper leather was unstitched and had to be sewn together.
'This is common work!' said the Darning-needle. 'I shall never get through it. I am breaking! I am breaking!' And in fact she did break. 'Didn't I tell you so!' said the Darning-needle. 'I am too fine!'
'Now she is good for nothing!' said the Fingers; but they had to hold her tight while the cook dropped some sealing-wax on the needle and stack it in the front of her dress.
'Now I am a breast-pin!' said the Darning-needle. 'I always knew I should be promoted. When one is something, one will become something!' And she laughed to herself; you can never see when a Darning-needle is laughing. Then she sat up as proudly as if she were in a State coach, and looked all round her.
'May I be allowed to ask if you are gold?' she said to her neighbour, the Pin. 'You have a very nice appearance, and a peculiar head; but it is too small! You must take pains to make it grow, for it is not everyone who has a head of sealing-wax.' And so saying the Darning-needle raised herself up so proudly that she fell out of the dress, right into the sink which the cook was rinsing out.
'Now I am off on my travels!' said the Darning-needle. 'I do hope I sha'n't get lost!' She did indeed get lost.
'I am too fine for this world!' said she as she lay in the gutter; 'but I know who I am, and that is always a little satisfaction!'
'And the Darning-needle kept her proud bearing and did not lose her good-temper.
All kinds of things swam over her-shavings, bits of straw, and scraps of old newspapers.
'Just look how they sail along!' said the Darning-needle. 'They don't know what is underneath them! Here I am sticking fast! There goes a shaving thinking of nothing in the world but of itself, a mere chip! There goes a straw-well, how it does twist and twirl, to be sure! Don't think so much about yourself, or you will be knocked against a stone. There floats a bit of newspaper. What is written on it is long ago forgotten, and yet how proud it is! I am sitting patient and quiet. I know who I am, and that is enough for me!'
One day something thick lay near her which glittered so brightly that the Darning-needle thought it must be a diamond. But it was a bit of bottle-glass, and because it sparkled the Darning-needle spoke to it, and gave herself out as a breast-pin.
'No doubt you are a diamond?'
'Yes, something of that kind!' And each believed that the other was something very costly; and they both said how very proud the world must be of them.
'I have come from a lady's work-box,' said Darning-needle, 'and this lady was a cook; she had five fingers on each hand; anything so proud as these fingers I have never seen! And yet they were only there to take me out of the work-box and to put me back again!'
'Were they of noble birth, then?' asked the bit of bottle-glass.
'Of noble birth!' said the Darning-needle; 'no indeed, but proud! They were five brothers, all called "Fingers." They held themselves proudly one against the other, although they were of different sizes. The outside one, the Thumb, was short and fat; he was outside the rank, and had only one bend in his back, and could only make one bow; but he said that if he were cut off from a man that he was no longer any use as a soldier. Dip-into-everything, the second finger, dipped into sweet things as well as sour things, pointed to the sun and the moon, and guided the pen when they wrote. Longman, the third, looked at the others over his shoulder. Goldband, the fourth, had a gold sash round his waist; and little Playman did nothing at all, and was the more proud. There was too much ostentation, and so I came away.'
'And now we are sitting and shining here!' said the bit of bottle-glass.
At that moment more water came into the gutter; it streamed over the edges and washed the bit of bottle-glass away.
'Ah! now he has been promoted!' said the Darning-needle. 'I remain here; I am too fine. But that is my pride, which is a sign of respectability!' And she sat there very proudly, thinking lofty thoughts.
'I really believe I must have been born a sunbeam, I am so fine! It seems to me as if the sunbeams were always looking under the water for me. Ah, I am so fine that my own mother cannot find me! If I had my old eye which broke off, I believe I could weep; but I can't-it is not fine to weep!'
One day two street-urchins were playing and wading in the gutter, picking up old nails, pennies, and such things. It was rather dirty work, but it was a great delight to them.
'Oh, oh!' cried out one, as he pricked himself with the Darning-needle; 'he is a fine fellow though!'
'I am not a fellow; I am a young lady!' said the Darning-needle; but no one heard. The sealing-wax had gone, and she had become quite black; but black makes one look very slim, and so she thought she was even finer than before.
'Here comes an egg-shell sailing along!' said the boys, and they stuck the Darning-needle into the egg-shell.
'The walls white and I black-what a pretty contrast it makes!' said the Darning-needle. 'Now I can be seen to advantage! If only I am not sea-sick! I should give myself up for lost!'
But she was not sea-sick, and did not give herself up.
'It is a good thing to be steeled against sea-sickness; here one has indeed an advantage over man! Now my qualms are over. The finer one is the more one can bear.'
'Crack!' said the egg-shell as a wagon-wheel went over it.
'Oh! how it presses!' said the Darning-needle. 'I shall indeed be sea-sick now. I am breaking!' But she did not break, although the wagon-wheel went over her; she lay there at full length, and there she may lie.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] You may buy them from Mr. Nutt, in the Strand.
[2] 'Der Norlands Drache,' from Esthnische Mährchen. Kreutzwald.
[3] Höllenmädchen.
[4] Andersen.
[5] 'Prinz Krebs,' from Griechische Mährchen. Schmidt.
[6] Ein Mohr.
[7] Grimm.
[8] Cabinet des Fées.
[9] 'Die Siebenköpfige Schlange,' from Schmidt's Griechische Mährchen.
[10] Convent Gnothi.
[11] From the Hungarian. Kletke.
[12] From the Bukowniaer. Von Wliolocki.
[13] From the Polish. Kletke.
[14] From Les Fées illustres.
[15] From the German. Kletke.
[16] From the Polish. Kletke.
[17] From the Polish. Kletke.
[18] A North American Indian Story.
[19] From the Hungarian. Kletke.
[20] From the Iroquois.
/> [21] From the Red Indian.
[22] From the Russian. Kletke.
[23] From the Bukowinaer. Von Wliolocki.
[24] From the Russian.
[25] From the Bukowinaer Tales and Legends. Von Wliolocki.
[26] From the Russian.
[27] From the Bukowinaer Tales and Legends. Von Wliolocki.
[28] From the Russian.
[29] From the Bukowniaer. Von Wliolocki.
[30] From the Icelandic.
[31] From the Icelandic.
[32] From the Icelandic.
THE VIOLET FAIRY BOOK
PREFACE
The Editor takes this opportunity to repeat what he has often said before, that he is not the author of the stories in the Fairy Books; that he did not invent them 'out of his own head.' He is accustomed to being asked, by ladies, 'Have you written anything else except the Fairy Books?' He is then obliged to explain that he has NOT written the Fairy Books, but, save these, has written almost everything else, except hymns, sermons, and dramatic works.
The stories in this Violet Fairy Book, as in all the others of the series, have been translated out of the popular traditional tales in a number of different languages. These stories are as old as anything that men have invented. They are narrated by naked savage women to naked savage children. They have been inherited by our earliest civilised ancestors, who really believed that beasts and trees and stones can talk if they choose, and behave kindly or unkindly. The stories are full of the oldest ideas of ages when science did not exist, and magic took the place of science. Anybody who has the curiosity to read the 'Legendary Australian Tales,' which Mrs. Langloh Parker has collected from the lips of the Australian savages, will find that these tales are closely akin to our own. Who were the first authors of them nobody knows-probably the first men and women. Eve may have told these tales to amuse Cain and Abel. As people grew more civilised and had kings and queens, princes and princesses, these exalted persons generally were chosen as heroes and heroines. But originally the characters were just 'a man,' and 'a woman,' and 'a boy,' and 'a girl,' with crowds of beasts, birds, and fishes, all behaving like human beings. When the nobles and other people became rich and educated, they forgot the old stories, but the country people did not, and handed them down, with changes at pleasure, from generation to generation. Then learned men collected and printed the country people's stories, and these we have translated, to amuse children. Their tastes remain like the tastes of their naked ancestors, thousands of years ago, and they seem to like fairy tales better than history, poetry, geography, or arithmetic, just as grown-up people like novels better than anything else.
