repeatedtheportuguese,"indeedyouhave,almostastenderastheducksinportugal."
"letusthinkofgettingsomethingtosatisfyourhunger,"saidthedrake,that'sthemostimportantbusiness.ifoneofourtoysisbroken,whywehaveplentymore."
theend.
1872
fairytalesofhanschristianandersen
theprincessandthepea
byhanschristianandersen
onceuponatimetherewasaprincewhowantedtomarryaprincess;butshewouldhavetobearealprincess.hetravelledallovertheworldtofindone,butnowherecouldhegetwhatherewereprincessesenough,butitwasdifficulttofindoutwhethertheywererealones.therewasalwayssomethingaboutthemthatwasnotasitshouldbe.sohecamehomeagainandwassad,forhewouldhavelikedverymuchtohavearealprincess.
oneeveningaterriblestormcameon;therewasthunderandlightning,andtherainpoureddownintorrents.suddenlyaknockingwasheardatthecitygate,andtheoldkingwenttoopenit.
itwasaprincessstandingoutthereinfrontofthegate.but,goodgracious!whatasighttherainandthewindhadmadeherwaterrandownfromherhairandclothes;itrandownintothetoesofhershoesandoutagainattheheels.andyetshesaidthatshewasarealprincess.
"well,we'llsoonfindthatout,"thoughttheoldqueen.butshesaidnothing,wentintothebed-room,tookallthebeddingoffthebedstead,andlaidapeaonthebottom;thenshetooktwentymattressesandlaidthemonthepea,andthentwentyeider-downbedsontopofthemattresses.
onthistheprincesshadtolieallnight.inthemorningshewasaskedhowshehadslept.
"oh,verybadly!"saidshe."ihavescarcelyclosedmyeyesallnight.heavenonlyknowswhatwasinthebed,butiwaslyingonsomethinghard,sothatiamblackandblueallovermybody.it'shorrible!"
nowtheyknewthatshewasarealprincessbecauseshehadfeltthepearightthroughthetwentymattressesandthetwentyeider-downbeds.
nobodybutarealprincesscouldbeassensitiveasthat.
sotheprincetookherforhiswife,fornowheknewthathehadarealprincess;andthepeawasputinthemuseum,whereitmaystillbeseen,ifnoonehasstolenit.
there,thatisatruestory.
theend.
1872
fairytalesofhanschristianandersen
thepsyche
byhanschristianandersen
inthefreshmorningdawn,intherosyairgleamsagreatstar,thebrighteststarofthemorning.hisraystrembleonthewhitewall,asifhewishedtowritedownonitwhathecantell,whathehasseenthereandelsewhereduringthousandsofyearsinourrollingushearoneofhisstories.
"ashorttimeago"-thestar's"shorttimeago"iscalledamongmen"centuriesago"-"myraysfollowedayoungartist.itwasinthecityofthepopes,intheworld-city,rome.muchhasbeenchangedthereinthecourseoftime,butthechangeshavenotcomesoquicklyasthechangefromyouthtooldage.thenalreadythepalaceofthecaesarswasaruin,asitisnow;figtreesandlaurelsgrewamongthefallenmarblecolumns,andinthedesolatebathing-halls,wherethegildingstillclingstothewall;thecoliseumwasagiganticruin;thechurchbellssounded,theincensesentupitsfragrantcloud,andthroughthestreetsmarchedprocessionswithflamingtapersandglowingcanopies.holychurchwasthere,andartwasheldasahighandholything.inromelivedthegreatestpainterintheworld,raphael;therealsodweltthefirstofsculptors,michaelangelo.eventhepopepaidhomagetothesetwo,andhonoredthemwithavisit.artwasrecognizedandhonored,andwasrewardedalso.but,forallthat,everythinggreatandsplendidwasnotseenandknown.
"inanarrowlanestoodanoldhouse.onceithadbeenatemple;ayoungsculptornowdweltthere.hewasyoungandquiteunknown.hecertainlyhadfriends,youngartists,likehimself,younginspirit,younginhopesandthoughts;theytoldhimhewasrichintalent,andanartist,butthathewasfoolishforhavingnofaithinhisownpower;forhealwaysbrokewhathehadfashionedoutofclay,andnevercompletedanything;andaworkmustbecompletedifitistobeseenandtobringmoney.
"'youareadreamer,'theywentontosaytohim,'andthat'syourmisfortune.butthereasonofthisis,thatyouhaveneverlived,youhavenevertastedlife,youhaveneverenjoyeditingreatwholesomedraughts,asitoughttobeenjoyed.inyouthonemustmingleone'sownpersonalitywithlife,thattheymaybecomeone.lookatthegreatmasterraphael,whomthepopehonorsandtheworldadmires.he'snodespiserofwineandbread.'
"'andheevenappreciatesthebaker'sdaughter,theprettyfornarina,'addedangelo,oneofthemerriestoftheyoungfriends.
"yes,theysaidagoodmanythingsofthekind,accordingtotheirageandtheirreason.theywantedtodrawtheyoungartistoutwiththemintothemerrywildlife,themadlifeasitmightalsobecalled;andatcertaintimeshefeltaninclinationforit.hehadwarmblood,astrongimagination,andcouldtakepartinthemerrychat,andlaughaloudwiththerest;butwhattheycalled'raphael'smerrylife'disappearedbeforehimlikeavaporwhenhesawthedivineradiancethatbeamedforthfromthepicturesofthegreatmaster;andwhenhestoodinthevatican,beforetheformsofbeautywhichthemastershadhewnoutofmarblethousandsofyearssince,hisbreastswelled,andhefeltwithinhimselfsomethinghigh,somethingholy,somethingelevating,greatandgood,andhewishedthathecouldproducesimilarformsfromtheblocksofmarble.hewishedtomakeapictureofthatwhichwaswithinhim,stirringupwardfromhishearttotherealmsoftheinfinite;buthow,andinwhatform?