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FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
THE DRYAD
by Hans Christian Andersen
WE are travelling to Paris to the Exhibition。
Now we are there。 That was a journey察a flight without magic。 We
flew on the wings of steam over the sea and across the land。
Yes察our time is the time of fairy tales。
We are in the midst of Paris察in a great hotel。 Blooming flowers
ornament the staircases察and soft carpets the floors。
Our room is a very cosy one察and through the open balcony door
we have a view of a great square。 Spring lives down there察it has come
to Paris察and arrived at the same time with us。 It has come in the
shape of a glorious young chestnut tree察with delicate leaves newly
opened。 How the tree gleams察dressed in its spring garb察before all
the other trees in the place One of these latter had been struck
out of the list of living trees。 It lies on the ground with roots
exposed。 On the place where it stood察the young chestnut tree is to be
planted察and to flourish。
It still stands towering aloft on the heavy wagon which has
brought it this morning a distance of several miles to Paris。 For
years it had stood there察in the protection of a mighty oak tree
under which the old venerable clergyman had often sat察with children
listening to his stories。
The young chestnut tree had also listened to the stories察for
the Dryad who lived in it was a child also。 She remembered the time
when the tree was so little that it only projected a short way above
the grass and ferns around。 These were as tall as they would ever
be察but the tree grew every year察and enjoyed the air and the
sunshine察and drank the dew and the rain。 Several times it was also
as it must be察well shaken by the wind and the rain察for that is a
part of education。
The Dryad rejoiced in her life察and rejoiced in the sunshine
and the singing of the birds察but she was most rejoiced at human
voices察she understood the language of men as well as she understood
that of animals。
Butterflies察cockchafers察dragon´flies察everything that could
fly came to pay a visit。 They could all talk。 They told of the
village察of the vineyard察of the forest察of the old castle with its
parks and canals and ponds。 Down in the water dwelt also living
beings察which察in their way察could fly under the water from one
place to another´ beings with knowledge and delineation。 They said
nothing at all察they were so clever
And the swallow察who had dived察told about the pretty little
goldfish察of the thick turbot察the fat brill察and the old carp。 The
swallow could describe all that very well察but察 Self is the man察─she
said。 ;One ought to see these things one's self。; But how was the
Dryad ever to see such beings拭She was obliged to be satisfied with
being able to look over the beautiful country and see the busy
industry of men。
It was glorious察but most glorious of all when the old clergyman
sat under the oak tree and talked of France察and of the great deeds of
her sons and daughters察whose names will be mentioned with
admiration through all time。
Then the Dryad heard of the shepherd girl察Joan of Arc察and of
Charlotte Corday察she heard about Henry the Fourth察and Napoleon the
First察she heard names whose echo sounds in the hearts of the people。
The village children listened attentively察and the Dryad no less
attentively察she became a school´child with the rest。 In the clouds
that went sailing by she saw察picture by picture察everything that
she heard talked about。 The cloudy sky was her picture´book。
She felt so happy in beautiful France察the fruitful land of
genius察with the crater of freedom。 But in her heart the sting
remained that the bird察that every animal that could fly察was much
better off than she。 Even the fly could look about more in the
world察far beyond the Dryad's horizon。
France was so great and so glorious察but she could only look
across a little piece of it。 The land stretched out察world´wide
with vineyards察forests and great cities。 Of all these Paris was the
most splendid and the mightiest。 The birds could get there察but she
never
Among the village children was a little ragged察poor girl察but a
pretty one to look at。 She was always laughing or singing and
twining red flowers in her black hair。
;Don't go to Paris ─the old clergyman warned her。 ;Poor child if
you go there察it will be your ruin。;
But she went for all that。
The Dryad often thought of her察for she had the same wish察and
felt the same longing for the great city。
The Dryad's tree was bearing its first chestnut blossoms察the
birds were twittering round them in the most beautiful sunshine。
Then a stately carriage came rolling along that way察and in it sat a
grand lady driving the spirited察light´footed horses。 On the back seat
a little smart groom balanced himself。 The Dryad knew the lady察and
the old clergyman knew her also。 He shook his head gravely when he saw
her察and said
;So you went there after all察and it was your ruin察poor Mary
;That one poor拭─thought the Dryad。 ;No察she wears a dress fit for
a countess; she had become one in the city of magic changes。 ;Oh察if
I were only there察amid all the splendor and pomp They shine up
into the very clouds at night察when I look up察I can tell in what
direction the town lies。;
Towards that direction the Dryad looked every evening。 She saw
in the dark night the gleaming cloud on the horizon察in the clear
moonlight nights she missed the sailing clouds察which showed her
pictures of the city and pictures from history。
The child grasps at the picture´books察the Dryad grasped at the
cloud´world察her thought´book。 A sudden察cloudless sky was for her a
blank leaf察and for several days she had only had such leaves before
her。
It was in the warm summer´time此not a breeze moved through the
glowing hot days。 Every leaf察every flower察lay as if it were
torpid察and the people seemed torpid察too。
Then the clouds arose and covered the region round about where the
gleaming mist announced ;Here lies Paris。;
The clouds piled themselves up like a chain of mountains
hurried on through the air察and spread themselves abroad over the
whole landscape察as far as the Dryad's eye could reach。
Like enormous blue´black blocks of rock察the clouds lay piled over
one another。 Gleams of lightning shot forth from them。
;These also are the servants of the Lord God察─the old clergyman
had said。 And there came a bluish dazzling flash of lightning察a
lighting up as if of the sun itself察which could burst blocks of
rock asunder。 The lightning struck and split to the roots the old
venerable oak。 The crown fell asunder。 It seemed as if the tree were
stretching forth its arms to clasp the messengers of the light。
No bronze cannon can sound over the land at the birth of a royal
child as the thunder sounded at the death of the old oak。 The rain
streamed down察a refreshing wind was blowing察the storm had gone by
and there was quite a holiday glow on all things。 The old clergyman
spoke a few words for honorable remembrance察and a painter made a
drawing察as a lasting record of the tree。
;Everything passes away察─said the Dryad察 passes away like a
cloud察and never comes back
The old clergyman察too察did not come back。 The green roof of his
school was gone察and his teaching´chair had vanished。 The children did
not come察but autumn came察and winter came察and then spring also。 In
all this change of seasons the Dryad looked toward the region where
at night察Paris gleamed with its bright mist far on the horizon。
Forth from the town rushed engine after engine察train after train
whistling and screaming at all hours in the day。 In the evening
towards midnight察at daybreak察and all the day through察came the
trains。 Out of each one察and into each one察streamed people from the
country of every king。 A new wonder of the world had summoned them
to Paris。
In what form did this wonder exhibit itself
;A splendid blossom of art and industry察─said one察 has
unfolded itself in the Champ de Mars察a gigantic sunflower察from whose
petals one can learn geography and statistics察and can become as
wise as a lord mayor察and raise one's self to the level of art and
poetry察and study the greatness and power of the various lands。;
;A fairy tale flower察─said another察 a many´colored
lotus´plant察which spreads out its green leaves like a velvet carpet
over the sand。 The opening spring has brought it forth察the summer
will see it in all its splendor察the autumn winds will sweep it
away察so that not a leaf察not a fragment of its root shall remain。;
In front of the Military School extends in time of peace the arena
of war´ a field without a blade of grass察a piece of sandy steppe
as if cut out of the Desert of Africa察where Fata Morgana displays her
wondrous airy castles and hanging gardens。 In the Champ de Mars
however察these w