安徒生童话-第33部分

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me　home　sounds　in　their　hearts。

Hear　the　story　of　the　year：　〃The　night　of　the　snow…storm；　theheavy　dream　of　the　winter　night；　all　shall　be　dissolved；　all　shallrise　again　in　the　beauteous　notes　of　the　Bird　of　Popular　Song；　whonever　dies！〃

THE　END。

　　1872

　FAIRY　TALES　OF　HANS　CHRISTIAN　ANDERSEN

　THE　BISHOP　OF　BORGLUM　AND　HIS　WARRIORS

　　　by　Hans　Christian　Andersen

OUR　scene　is　laid　in　Northern　Jutland；　in　the　so…called　〃wildmoor。〃　We　hear　what　is　called　the　〃Wester…wow…wow〃…　the　peculiarroar　of　the　North　Sea　as　it　breaks　against　the　western　coast　ofJutland。　It　rolls　and　thunders　with　a　sound　that　perates　formiles　into　the　land；　and　we　are　quite　near　the　roaring。　Before　usrises　a　great　mound　of　sand…　a　mountain　we　have　long　seen；　and　towardswhich　we　are　wending　our　way；　driving　slowly　along　through　the　deepsand。　On　this　mountain　of　sand　is　a　lofty　old　building…　the　convent　ofBorglum。　In　one　of　its　wings　（the　larger　one）　there　is　still　a　church。And　at　this　convent　we　now　arrive　in　the　late　evening　hour；　but　theweather　is　clear　in　the　bright　June　night　around　us；　and　the　eye　canrange　far；　far　over　field　and　moor　to　the　Bay　of　Aalborg；　over　heathand　meadow；　and　far　across　the　deep　blue　sea。

Now　we　are　there；　and　roll　past　between　barns　and　other　farmbuildings；　and　at　the　left　of　the　gate　we　turn　aside　to　the　Old　CastleFarm；　where　the　lime　trees　stand　in　lines　along　the　walls；　and；sheltered　from　the　wind　and　weather；　grow　so　luxuriantly　that　theirtwigs　and　leaves　almost　conceal　the　windows。

We　mount　the　winding　staircase　of　stone；　and　march　through　thelong　passages　under　the　heavy　roof…beams。　The　wind　moans　verystrangely　here；　both　within　and　without。　It　is　hardly　known　how；　butthe　people　say…　yes；　people　say　a　great　many　things　when　they　arefrightened　or　want　to　frighten　others…　they　say　that　the　old　deadchoir…men　glide　silently　past　us　into　the　church；　where　mass　issung。　They　can　be　heard　in　the　rushing　of　the　storm；　and　their　singingbrings　up　strange　thoughts　in　the　hearers…　thoughts　of　the　old　timesinto　which　we　are　carried　back。

On　the　coast　a　ship　is　stranded；　and　the　bishop's　warriors　arethere；　and　spare　not　those　whom　the　sea　has　spared。　The　sea　washesaway　the　blood　that　has　flowed　from　the　cloven　skulls。　The　strandedgoods　belong　to　the　bishop；　and　there　is　a　store　of　goods　here。　Thesea　casts　up　tubs　and　barrels　filled　with　costly　wine　for　theconvent　cellar；　and　in　the　convent　is　already　good　store　of　beer　andmead。　There　is　plenty　in　the　kitchen…　dead　game　and　poultry；　hamsand　sausages；　and　fat　fish　swim　in　the　ponds　without。

The　Bishop　of　Borglum　is　a　mighty　lord。　He　has　greatpossessions；　but　still　he　longs　for　more…　everything　must　bow　beforethe　mighty　Olaf　Glob。　His　rich　cousin　at　Thyland　is　dead；　and　hiswidow　is　to　have　the　rich　inheritance。　But　how　es　it　that　onerelation　is　always　harder　towards　another　than　even　strangers　wouldbe？　The　widow's　husband　had　possessed　all　Thyland；　with　theexception　of　the　church　property。　Her　son　was　not　at　home。　In　hisboyhood　he　had　already　started　on　a　journey；　for　his　desire　was　to　seeforeign　lands　and　strange　people。　For　years　there　had　been　no　newsof　him。　Perhaps　he　had　been　long　laid　in　the　grave；　and　would　nevere　back　to　his　home；　to　rule　where　his　mother　then　ruled。

〃What　has　a　woman　to　do　with　rule？〃　said　the　bishop。

He　summoned　the　widow　before　a　law　court；　but　what　did　he　gainthereby？　The　widow　had　never　been　disobedient　to　the　law；　and　wasstrong　in　her　just　rights。

Bishop　Olaf　of　Borglum；　what　dost　thou　purpose？　What　writestthou　on　yonder　smooth　parchment；　sealing　it　with　thy　seal；　andintrusting　it　to　the　horsemen　and　servants；　who　ride　away；　far　away；to　the　city　of　the　Pope？

It　is　the　time　of　falling　leaves　and　of　stranded　ships；　and　soonicy　winter　will　e。

Twice　had　icy　winter　returned　before　the　bishop　weled　thehorsemen　and　servants　back　to　their　home。　They　came　from　Rome　with　apapal　decree…　a　ban；　or　bull；　against　the　widow　who　had　dared　tooffend　the　pious　bishop。　〃Cursed　be　she　and　all　that　belongs　to　her。Let　her　be　expelled　from　the　congregation　and　the　Church。　Let　no　manstretch　forth　a　helping　hand　to　her；　and　let　friends　and　relationsavoid　her　as　a　plague　and　a　pestilence！〃

〃What　will　not　bend　must　break；〃　said　the　Bishop　of　Borglum

And　all　forsake　the　widow；　but　she　holds　fast　to　her　God。　He　isher　helper　and　defender。

One　servant　only…　an　old　maid…　remained　faithful　to　her；　andwith　the　old　servant；　the　widow　herself　followed　the　plough；　and　thecrop　grew；　although　the　land　had　been　cursed　by　the　Pope　and　by　thebishop。

〃Thou　child　of　perdition；　I　will　yet　carry　out　my　purpose！〃cried　the　Bishop　of　Borglum。　〃Now　will　I　lay　the　hand　of　the　Pope　uponthee；　to　summon　thee　before　the　tribunal　that　shall　condemn　thee！〃

Then　did　the　widow　yoke　the　last　two　oxen　that　remained　to　herto　a　wagon；　and　mounted　up　on　the　wagon；　with　her　old　servant；　andtravelled　away　across　the　heath　out　of　the　Danish　land。　As　astranger　she　came　into　a　foreign　country；　where　a　strange　tongue　wasspoken　and　where　new　customs　prevailed。　Farther　and　farther　shejourneyed；　to　where　green　hills　rise　into　mountains；　and　the　vineclothes　their　sides。　Strange　merchants　drive　by　her；　and　they　lookanxiously　after　their　wagons　laden　with　merchandise。　They　fear　anattack　from　the　armed　followers　of　the　robber…knights。　The　two　poorwomen；　in　their　humble　vehicle　drawn　by　two　black　oxen；　travelfearlessly　through　the　dangerous　sunken　road　and　through　thedarksome　forest。　And　now　they　were　in　Franconia。　And　there　met　thema　stalwart　knight；　with　a　train　of　twelve　armed　followers。　Hepaused；　gazed　at　the　strange　vehicle；　and　questioned　the　women　as　tothe　goal　of　their　journey　and　the　place　whence　they　came。　Then　oneof　them　mentioned　Thyland　in　Denmark；　and　spoke　of　her　sorrows；　of　herwoes；　which　were　soon　to　cease；　for　so　Divine　Providence　had　willedit。　For　the　stranger　knight　is　the　widow's　son！　He　seized　her　hand；　heembraced　her；　and　the　mother　wept。　For　years　she　had　not　been　ableto　weep；　but　had　only　bitten　her　lips　till　the　blood　started。

It　is　the　time　of　falling　leaves　and　of　stranded　ships；　and　soonwill　icy　winter　e。

The　sea　rolled　wine…tubs　to　the　shore　for　the　bishop's　cellar。In　the　kitchen　the　deer　roasted　on　the　spit　before　the　fire。　AtBorglum　it　was　warm　and　cheerful　in　the　heated　rooms；　while　coldwinter　raged　without；　when　a　piece　of　news　was　brought　to　thebishop。　〃Jens　Glob；　of　Thyland；　has　e　back；　and　his　mother　withhim。〃　Jens　Glob　laid　a　plaint　against　the　bishop；　and　summonedhim　before　the　temporal　and　the　spiritual　court。

〃That　will　avail　him　little；〃　said　the　bishop。　〃Best　leave　off　thyefforts；　knight　Jens。〃

Again　it　is　the　time　of　falling　leaves　and　stranded　ships。　Icywinter　es　again；　and　the　〃white　bees〃　are　swarming；　and　sting　thetraveller's　face　till　they　melt。

〃Keen　weather　to…day！〃　say　the　people；　as　they　step　in。

Jens　Glob　stands　so　deeply　wrapped　in　thought；　that　he　singesthe　skirt　of　his　wide　garment。

〃Thou　Borglum　bishop；〃　he　exclaims；　〃I　shall　subdue　thee　afterall！　Under　the　shield　of　the　Pope；　the　law　cannot　reach　thee；　but　JensGlob　shall　reach　thee！〃

Then　he　writes　a　letter　to　his　brother…in…law；　Olaf　Hase；　inSallingland；　and　prays　that　knight　to　meet　him　on　Christmas　eve；　atmass；　in　the　church　at　Widberg。　The　bishop　himself　is　to　read　themass；　and　consequently　will　journey　from　Borglum　to　Thyland；　andthis　is　known　to　Jens　Glob。

Moorland　and　meadow　are　covered　with　ice　and　snow。　The　marshwill　bear　horse　and　rider；　the　bishop　with　his　priests　and　armedmen。　They　ride　the　shortest　way；　through　the　waving　reeds；　where　thewind　moans　sadly。

Blow　thy　brazen　trumpet；　thou　trumpeter　clad　in　fox…skin！　itsounds　merrily　in　the　clear　air。　So　they　ride　on　over　heath　andmoorland…　over　what　is　the　garden　of　Fata　Morgana　in　the　hot　summer；though　now　icy；　like　all　the　country…　towards　the　church　of　Widberg。

The　wind　is　blowing　his　trumpet　too…　blowing　it　harder　and　harder。He　blows　up　a　storm…　a　terrible　storm…　that　increases　more　and　more。Towards　the　church　they　ride；　as　fast　as　they　may　through　the　storm。The　church　stands　firm；　but　the　storm　careers　on　over　field　andmoorland；　over　land　and　sea。

Borglum's　bishop　reaches　the　church；　but　Olaf　Hase　will　scarcedo　so；　however　hard　he　may　ride。　He　journeys　with　his　warriors　onthe　farther　side　of　the　bay；　in　order　that　he　may　help　Jens　Glob；now　that　the　bishop　is　to　be　summoned　before　the　judgment　seat　ofthe　Highest。

The　church　is　the　judgment　hall；　the　altar　is　the　council　table。The　lights　burn　clear　in　the　heavy　brass　candelabra。　The　storm　readsout　the　accusation　and　the　sentence；　roaming　in　the　air　over　moorand　heath；　and　over　the　rolling　waters。　No　ferry…boat　can　sail　overthe　bay　in　such　weather　as　this。

Olaf　Hase　makes　halt　at　Ottesworde。　There　he　dismisses　hiswarriors；　presents　them　with　their　horses　and　harness；　and　givesthem　leave　to　ride　home　and　greet　his　wife。　He　intends　to　risk　hislife　alone　in　the　roaring　waters；　but　they　are　to　bear　witness　for　himthat　it　is　not　his　fault　if　Jens　Glob　stands　without　reinforcementin　the　church　at　Widberg。　The　faithful　warriors　will　not　leave　him；but　follow　him　out　into　the　deep　waters。　Ten　of　them　are　carried　away；but　Olaf　Hase　and　two　of　the　youngest　men　reach　the　farther　side。　Theyhave　still　four　miles　to　ride。

It　is　past　midnight。　It　is　Christmas。　The　wind　has　abated。　Thechurch　is　lighted　up；　the　gleaming　radiance　shines　through　thewindow…frames；　and　pours　out　over　meadow　and　heath。　The　mass　haslong　been　finished；　silence　reigns　in　the　church；　and　the　wax　is　hearddropping　from　the　candles　to　the　stone　pavement。　And　now　Olaf　Hasearrives。

In　the　forecourt　Jens　Glob　greets　him　kindly；　and　says；

〃I　have　just　made　an　agreement　with　the　bishop。〃

〃Sayest　thou　so？〃　replied　Olaf　Hase。　〃Then　neither　thou　nor　thebishop　shall　quit　this　church　alive。〃

And　the　sword　leaps　from　the　scabbard；　and　Olaf　Hase　deals　ablow　that　makes　the　panel　of　the　church　door；　which　Jens　Globhastily　closes　between　them；　fly　in　fragments。

〃Hold；　brother！　First　hear　what　the　agreement　was　that　I　made。　Ihave　slain　the　bishop　and　his　warriors　and　priests。　They　will　haveno　word　more　to　say　in　the　matter；　nor　will　I　speak　again　of　all　thewrong　that　my　mother　has　endured。〃

The　long　wicks　of　the　altar　lights　glimmer　red；　but　there　is　aredder　gleam　upon　the　pavement；　where　the　bishop　lies　with　clovenskull；　and　his　dead　warriors　around　him；　in　the　quiet　of　the　holyChristmas　night。

And　four　days　afterwards　the　bells　toll　for　a　funeral　in　theconvent　of　Borglum。　The　murdered　bishop　and　the　slain　warriors　andpriests　are　displayed　under　a　black　canopy；　surrounded　by　candelabradecked　with　crape。　There　lies　the　dead　man；　in　the　black　cloak　wroughtwith　silver；　the　crozier　in　the　powerless　hand　that　was　once　somighty。　The　incense　rises　in　clouds；　and　the　monks　chant　the　funeralhymn。　It　sounds　like　a　wail…　it　sounds　like　a　sentence　of　wrath　andcondemnation；　that　must　be　heard　far　over　the　land；　carried　by　thewind…　sung　by　the　wind…　the　wail　that　sometimes　is　silent；　but　neverdies；　for　ever　again　it　rises　in　song；　singing　even　into　our　owntime　this　legend　of　the　Bishop　of　Borglum　and　his　hard　nephew。　It　isheard　in　the　dark　night　by　the　frightened　husbandman；　driving　by　inthe　heavy　sandy　road　past　the　convent　of　Borglum。　It　is　heard　by　thesleepless　listener　in　the　thickly…walled　rooms　at　Borglum。　And　notonly　to　the　ear　of　superstition　is　the　sighing　and　the　tread　ofhurrying　feet　audible　in　the　long　echoing　passages　leading　to　theconvent　door　that　has　long　been　locked。　The　door　still　seems　toopen；　and　the　lights　seem　to　flame　in　the　brazen　candlesticks；　thefragrance　of　incense　arises；　the　church　gleams　in　its　ancientsplendor；　and　the　monks　sing　and　say　the　mass　over　the　slain　bishop；who　lies　there　in　the　black　silver…embroidered　mantle；　with　thecrozier　in　his　powerless　hand；　and　on　his　pale　proud　forehead　gleamsthe　red　wound　like　fire；　and　there　burn　the　worldly　mind　and　thewicked　thoughts。

Sink　down　into　his　grave…　into　oblivion…　ye　terrible　shapes　of　thetimes　of　old！

Hark　to　the　raging　of　the　angry　wind；　sounding　above　the　rollingsea！　A　storm　approaches　without；　calling　aloud　for　human　lives。　Thesea　has　not　put　on　a　new　mind　with　the　new　time。　This　night　it　is　ahorrible　pit　to　devour　up　lives；　and　to…morrow；　perhaps；　it　may　be　aglassy　mirror…　even　as　in　the　old　time　that　we　have　buried。　Sleepsweetly；　if　thou　canst　sleep！

Now　it　is　morning。

The　new　time　flings　sunshine　into　the　room。　The　wind　still　keepsup　mightily。　A　wreck　is　announced…　as　in　the　old　time。

During　the　night；　down　yonder　by　Lokken；　the　little　fishingvillage　with　the　red…tiled　roofs…　we　can　see　it　up　here　from　thewindow…　a　ship　has　e　ashore。　It　has　struck；　and　is　fast　embedded　inthe　sand；　but　the　rocket　apparatus　has　thrown　a　rope　on　board；　andformed　a　bridge　from　the　wreck　to　the　mainland；　and　all　on　board　aresaved；　and　reach　the　land；　and　are　wrapped　in　warm　blankets；　andto…day　they　are　invited　to　the　farm　at　the　convent　of　Borglum。　Infortable　rooms　they　encounter　hospitality　and　friendly　faces。They　are　addressed　in　the　language　of　their　country；　and　the　pianosounds　for　them　with　melodies　of　their　native　land；　and　before　thesehave　died　away；　the　chord　has　been　struck；　the　wire　of　thought　thatreaches　to　the　land　of　the　sufferers　announces　that　they　arerescued。　Then　their　anxieties　are　dispelled；　and　at　even　they　joinin　the　dance　at　the　feast　given　in　the　great　hall　at　Borglum。Waltzes　and　Styrian　dances　are　given；　and　Danish　popular　songs；　andmelodies　of　foreign　lands　in　these　modern　times。

Blessed　be　thou；　new　time！　Speak　thou　of　summer　and　of　purergales！　Send　thy　sunbeams　gleaming　into　our　hearts　and　thoughts！　On　thyglowing　canvas　let　them　be　painted…　the　dark　legends　of　the　rough　hardtimes　that　are　past！

THE　END。

　　1872

　FAIRY　TALES　OF　HANS　CHRISTIAN　ANDERSEN

THE　BOTTLE　NECK

　　　by　Hans　Christian　Andersen

CLOSE　to　the　corner　of　a　street；　among　other　abodes　of　poverty；stood　an　exceedingly　tall；　narrow　house；　which　had　been　so　knockedabout　by　time　that　it　seemed　out　of　joint　in　every　direction。　Thishouse　was　inhabited　by　poor　people；　but　the　deepest　poverty　wasapparent　in　the　garret　lodging　in　the　gable。　In　front　of　the　littlewindow；　an　old　bent　bird…cage　hung　in　the　sunshine；　which　had　not　evena　proper　water…glass；　but　instead　of　it　the　broken　neck　of　a　bottle；turned　upside　down；　and　a　cork　stuck　in　to　make　it　hold　the　water　withwhich　it　was　filled。　An　old　maid　stood　at　the　window；　she　had　hungchickweed　over　the　cage；　and　the　little　lin　which　it　containedhopped　from　perch　to　perch　and　sang　and　twittered　merrily。

〃Yes；　it's　all　very　well　for　you　to　sing；〃　said　the　bottle　neck：that　is；　he　did　not　really　speak　the　words　as　we　do；　for　the　neck　of　abottle　cannot　speak；　but　he　thought　them　to　himself　in　his　own　mind；just　as　people　sometimes　talk　quietly　to　themselves。

〃Yes；　you　may　sing　very　well；　you　have　all　your　limbs　uninjured；you　should　feel　what　it　is　like　to　lose　your　body；　and　only　have　aneck　and　a　mouth　left；　with　a　cork　stuck　in　it；　as　I　have：　youwouldn't　sing　then；　I　know。　After　all；　it　is　just　as　well　that　thereare　some　who　can　be　happy。　I　have　no　reason　to　sing；　nor　could　Ising　now　if　I　were　ever　so　happy；　but　when　I　was　a　whole　bottle；　andthey　rubbed　me　with　a　cork；　didn't