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FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
THE DUMB BOOK
by Hans Christian Andersen
IN the high…road which led through a wood stood a solitary
farm…house; the road; in fact; ran right through its yard。 The sun was
shining and all the windows were open; within the house people were
very busy。 In the yard; in an arbour formed by lilac bushes in full
bloom; stood an open coffin; thither they had carried a dead man;
who was to be buried that very afternoon。 Nobody shed a tear over him;
his face was covered over with a white cloth; under his head they
had placed a large thick book; the leaves of which consisted of folded
sheets of blotting…paper; and withered flowers lay between them; it
was the herbarium which he had gathered in various places and was to
be buried with him; according to his own wish。 Every one of the
flowers in it was connected with some chapter of his life。
〃Who is the dead man?〃 we asked。
〃The old student;〃 was the reply。 〃They say that he was once an
energetic young man; that he studied the dead languages; and sang
and even composed many songs; then something had happened to him;
and in consequence of this he gave himself up to drink; body and mind。
When at last he had ruined his health; they brought him into the
country; where someone paid for his board and residence。 He was gentle
as a child as long as the sullen mood did not come over him; but
when it came he was fierce; became as strong as a giant; and ran about
in the wood like a chased deer。 But when we succeeded in bringing
him home; and prevailed upon him to open the book with the dried…up
plants in it; he would sometimes sit for a whole day looking at this
or that plant; while frequently the tears rolled over his cheeks。
God knows what was in his mind; but he requested us to put the book
into his coffin; and now he lies there。 In a little while the lid will
be placed upon the coffin; and he will have sweet rest in the grave!〃
The cloth which covered his face was lifted up; the dead man's
face expressed peace… a sunbeam fell upon it。 A swallow flew with
the swiftness of an arrow into the arbour; turning in its flight;
and twittered over the dead man's head。
What a strange feeling it is… surely we all know it… to look
through old letters of our young days; a different life rises up out
of the past; as it were; with all its hopes and sorrows。 How many of
the people with whom in those days we used to be on intimate terms
appear to us as if dead; and yet they are still alive… only we have
not thought of them for such a long time; whom we imagined we should
retain in our memories for ever; and share every joy and sorrow with
them。
The withered oak leaf in the book here recalled the friend; the
schoolfellow; who was to be his friend for life。 He fixed the leaf
to the student's cap in the green wood; when they vowed eternal
friendship。 Where does he dwell now? The leaf is kept; but the
friendship does no longer exist。 Here is a foreign hothouse plant; too
tender for the gardens of the North。 It is almost as if its leaves
still smelt sweet! She gave it to him out of her own garden… a
nobleman's daughter。
Here is a water…lily that he had plucked himself; and watered with
salt tears… a lily of sweet water。 And here is a nettle: what may
its leaves tell us? What might he have thought when he plucked and
kept it? Here is a little snowdrop out of the solitary wood; here is
an evergreen from the flower…pot at the tavern; and here is a simple
blade of grass。
The lilac bends its fresh fragrant flowers over the dead man's
head; the swallow passes again… 〃twit; twit;〃 now the men come with
hammer and nails; the lid is placed over the dead man; while his
head rests on the dumb book… so long cherished; now closed for ever!
THE END
。