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安徒生童話故事第28篇：樅樹The Fir Tree
引導語：樅樹的這篇安徒生童話故事的中英文版本大家知道?下面就是小編收集的，歡迎大家閱讀!
外邊的大樹林里長著一株非常可愛的小樅樹。它生長的地點很好，能得到太陽光和充分的新鮮空氣，周圍還有許多大朋友——松樹和別的樅樹。不過這株小樅樹急著要長大，它一點也不理睬溫暖的太陽和新鮮的空氣。當農家的小孩子出來找草莓和覆盆子、走來走去、閑散地聊天的時候，它也不理會他們。有時他們帶著滿缽子的、或用草穿起來的長串的莓子到來。他們坐在小樅樹旁邊，說：“嗨，這個小東西是多么可愛啊!”而這株樹一點也不愿意聽這話。
一年以后它長了一節;再過一年它又長了一節。因此你只要看樅樹有多少節，就知道它長了多少年。
“啊，我希望我像別的樹一樣，是一株大樹!”小樅樹嘆了一口氣說，“那么我就可以把我的枝丫向四周伸展開來，我的頭頂就可以看看這個廣大的世界!那么鳥兒就可以在我的枝上做窠;當風吹起來的時候，我就可以像別的樹一樣，像煞有介事地點點頭了。”
它對于太陽、鳥雀，對于在早晨和晚間飄過去的紅云，一點也不感到興趣。
現在是冬天了，四周的積雪發出白亮的光。有時一只兔子跑過來，在小樅樹身上跳過去。……啊!這才叫它生氣呢!
不過兩個冬天又過去了。當第三個冬天到來的時候，小樅樹已經長得很大了，兔子只好繞著它走過去。
啊!生長，生長，長成為大樹，然后變老，只有這才是世界上最快樂的事情!小樅樹這樣想。
在冬天，伐木人照例到來了，砍下幾株最大的樹。這類事情每年總有一次。這株年輕的樅樹現在已經長得相當大了;它有點顫抖起來，因為那些堂皇的大樹轟然一聲倒到地上來了。它們的枝子被砍掉，全身溜光，又長又瘦——人們簡直沒有辦法認出它們來，但是它們被裝上車子，被馬兒拉出樹林。
它們到什么地方去了呢?它們會變成什么呢?
在春天，當燕子和鸛鳥飛來的時候，樅樹就問它們：“你們知道人們把它們拖到什么地方去了嗎?你們碰到過它們沒有?”
燕子什么也不知道。不過鸛鳥很像在想一件事情，連連點著頭，說：“是的，我想是的!當我從埃及飛出來的時候，我碰到過許多新船。這些船上有許多美麗的桅桿;我想它們就是那些樹。它們發出樅樹的氣味。我看見過許多次;它們昂著頭!它們昂著頭。”
“啊，我多么希望我也能長大得足夠在大海上航行!海究竟是怎樣的呢?它是什么樣兒的呢?”
“嗨，要解釋起來，那可是不簡單!”鸛鳥說著便走開了。
“享受你的青春吧，”太陽光說，“享受你蓬勃的生長，享受你身體里新鮮的生命力吧!”
風兒吻著這株樹，露珠在它身上滴著眼淚。但是這株樹一點也不懂得這些事情。
當圣誕節到來的時候，有許多很年輕的樹被砍掉了①。有的既不像樅樹那樣老，也不像它那樣大，更不像它那樣性急，老想跑開。這些年輕的樹兒正是一些最美麗的樹兒，所以它們都保持住它們的枝葉。它們被裝上車子，馬兒把它們拉出了樹林。
“它們到什么地方去呢?”樅樹問。“它們并不比我更大。是的，有一株比我還小得多呢。為什么它們要保留住枝葉呢?它們被送到什么地方去呢?”
“我們知道!我們知道!”麻雀唧唧喳喳地說。“我們在城里朝窗玻璃里面瞧過!我們知道它們到什么地方去!哦!它們要到最富麗堂皇的地方去!我們朝窗子里瞧過。我們看到它們被放在一個溫暖房間的中央，身上裝飾著許多最美麗的東西——涂了金的蘋果啦，蜂蜜做的糕餅啦，玩具啦，以及成千成百的蠟燭啦!”
“后來呢?”樅樹問;它所有的枝子都顫動起來了。“后來呢?后來怎樣一個結果呢?”
“唔，以后的事我們沒有看見。不過那是美極了!”
“也許有一天我也不得不走上這條光榮的大道吧!”樅樹高興地說。“這比在海上航行要好得多!我真等待得不耐煩了!我唯愿現在就是圣誕節!現在我已經大了，成人了，像去年被運走的那些樹一樣!啊，我希望我高高地坐在車子上!我希望我就在那個溫暖的房間里，全身打扮得漂漂亮亮!那么，以后呢?是的，以后更好、更美的事情就會到來，不然他們為什么要把我打扮得這樣漂亮呢?一定會有更偉大、更美麗的事情到來的。不過什么事情呢?啊，我真痛苦!我真渴望!
我自己也不知道為什么要這樣!”
“請你跟我們一道享受你的生活吧!”空氣和太陽光說。
“請你在自由中享受你新鮮的青春吧!”
不過樅樹什么也不能享受。它一直在生長，生長。在冬天和夏天，它老是立在那兒，發綠——蔭深的綠。看到過它的人說：“這是一株美麗的樹!”到了圣誕節的時候，它是最先被砍掉了的一株。斧頭深深地砍進樹心里去，于是它嘆了一口氣就倒到地上來了：它感到一種痛楚，一陣昏厥，它完全想不起什么快樂。離開自己的家，離開自己根生土長的這塊地方，究竟是很悲慘的。它知道自己將永遠也見不到那些親愛的老朋友，周圍那些小灌木林和花叢了——也許連鳥兒也不會再見到呢，別離真不是什么愉快的事情。
當這樹跟許多別的樹在院子里一齊被卸下來的時候，它才清醒過來。它聽到一個人說：“這是一株很好看的樹兒;我們只要這一株!”
兩位穿得很整齊的仆人走來了，把這樅樹抬到一間漂亮的大客廳里去。四邊墻上掛著許多畫像，在一個大瓷磚砌的火爐旁邊立著高大的中國花瓶——蓋子上雕塑著獅子。這兒還有搖椅、綢沙發、堆滿了畫冊的大桌子和價值幾千幾萬元的玩具——至少小孩子們是這樣講的。樅樹被放進裝滿了沙子的大盆里。不過誰也不知道這是一個盆，因為它外面圍著一層布，并且立在一張寬大的雜色地毯上。啊，樅樹抖得多厲害啊!現在會有什么事情發生呢?仆人和小姐們都來打扮它。他們把花紙剪的小網袋掛在它的枝子上，每個小網袋里都裝滿了糖果;涂成金色的蘋果和胡桃核也掛在上面，好像它們原來就是生長在上面似的。此外，枝子上還安有一百多根紅色、白色和藍色的小蠟燭。跟活人一模一樣的玩偶在樹葉間蕩來蕩去，樅樹從來沒有看到過這種東西。樹頂上還安有一顆銀紙做的星星。這真是漂亮，分外地漂亮。
“今晚，”大家說，“今晚它將要放出光明。”
“啊，”樅樹想，“我希望現在就已經是夜晚了!啊，我希望蠟燭馬上點起來!還有什么會到來呢?也許樹林里的樹兒會出來看我吧?麻雀會在窗玻璃面前飛過吧?也許我會在這兒生下根來，在夏天和冬天都有這樣的打扮吧?”
是的，它所知道的就只這些。它的不安使它得到一種經常皮痛的毛病，而這種皮痛病，對于樹說來，其糟糕的程度比得上我們的頭痛。
最后，蠟燭亮起來了。多么光輝，多么華麗啊!樅樹的每根枝子都在發抖，弄得一根蠟燭燒著了一根小綠枝。這才真叫它痛呢。
“愿上帝保佑我們!”年輕的姑娘們都叫起來。她們急忙把火滅掉了。
樅樹現在可不敢再發抖了。啊，這真是可怕呀!它非常害怕失掉任何一件裝飾品，它們射出的光輝把它弄得頭昏目眩。現在那兩扇門推開了，許多小孩子涌進來，好像他們要把整個的樹都弄倒似的。年紀大的人鎮定地跟著他們走進來。這些小家伙站著，保持肅靜。不過這只有一分鐘的光景。接著他們就歡呼起來，弄出一片亂糟糟的聲音。他們圍著這株樹跳舞，同時把掛在它上面的禮物一件接一件地取走了。
“他們打算怎么辦呢?”樅樹想。“有什么事情會發生呢?”
蠟燭燒到枝子上來了。當它們快要燒完的時候，它們便被撲滅了，這時孩子們便得到準許來擄掠這株樹。啊!他們向它沖過來，所有的枝丫都發出折裂聲。要不是樹頂和頂上的一顆金星被系到天花板上，恐怕它早就倒下來了。
孩子們拿起美麗的玩具在周圍跳舞。誰也不想再看這株樹了，只有那位老保姆在樹枝間東張西望了一下，而她只不過想知道是不是還有棗子或蘋果沒有被拿走。
“講一個故事!講一個故事!”孩子們嘟囔著，同時把一位小胖子拖到樹這邊來。他坐在樹底下——“因為這樣我們就算是在綠樹林里面了，”他說。“樹兒聽聽我的故事也是很好的。不過我只能講一個故事。你們喜歡聽關于依維德·亞維德的故事呢，還是聽關于那位滾下了樓梯、但是卻坐上了王位、得到了公主的泥巴球①呢?”
“講依維德·亞維德的故事!”有幾個孩子喊著。“講泥巴球的故事!”另外幾個孩子喊著。這時鬧聲和叫聲混做一團。
只有樅樹默默地不說一句話。它在想：“我不能參加進來嗎?我不能做一點事兒嗎?”不過它已經參加了進來，它應該做的事已經做了。
胖子講著泥巴球的故事——“他滾下樓梯，又坐上了王位，并且得到了公主。”孩子們都拍著手!叫道：“講下去吧!講下去吧!”因為他們想聽依維德·亞維德的故事，但是他們卻只聽到了泥巴球的故事。樅樹立著一聲不響，只是沉思著。樹林里的鳥兒從來沒有講過這樣的故事。泥巴球滾下了樓梯，結果仍然得到了公主!“是的，世界上的事情就是這樣!”樅樹想，并且以為這完全是真的，因為講這故事的人是那么一位可愛的人物。“是的，是的，誰能知道呢?可能我有一天也會滾下樓梯，結果卻得到一位公主!”于是它很愉快地盼望在第二天晚上又被打扮一番，戴上蠟燭、玩具、金紙和水果。
“明天我決不再顫動了!”它想。“我將要盡情為我華麗的外表而得意。明天我將要再聽泥巴球的故事，可能還聽到依維德·亞維德的故事呢。”
于是樅樹一聲不響，想了一整夜。
早晨，仆人和保姆都進來了。
“現在我又要漂亮起來了!”樅樹想。不過他們把它拖出屋子，沿著樓梯一直拖到頂樓上去。他們把它放在一個黑暗
的角落里，這兒沒有一點陽光可以射進來。
“這是什么意思?”樅樹想。“我在這兒干嗎呢?我在這兒能聽到什么東西呢?”
它靠墻站著，思索起來。它現在有的是時間思索;白天和晚間在不停地過去，誰也不來看它。最后有一個人到來，但是他的目的只不過是要搬幾個空箱子放在墻角里罷了。樅樹完全被擋住了，人們也似乎把它忘記得一干二凈了。
“現在外邊是冬天了!”樅樹想。“土地是硬的，蓋上了雪花，人們也不能把我栽下了;因此我才在這兒被藏起來，等待春天的到來!人們想得多么周到啊!人類真是善良!我只希望這兒不是太黑暗、太孤寂得可怕!——連一只小兔子也沒有!樹林里現在一定是很愉快的地方，雪落得很厚，兔子在跳來跳去;是的，就是它在我頭上跳過去也很好——雖然我那時不大喜歡這種舉動。這兒現在真是寂寞得可怕呀!”
“吱!吱!”這時一只小耗子說，同時跳出來。不一會兒另外一只小耗子又跳出來了。它們在樅樹身上嗅了一下，于是便鉆進枝丫里面去。
“真是冷得怕人!”兩只小耗子說。“否則待在這兒倒是蠻舒服的。老樅樹，你說對不對?”
“我一點也不老，”樅樹說。“比我年紀大的樹多著呢!”
“你是從什么地方來的?”耗子問。“你知道什么東西?”它們現在非常好奇起來。“請告訴我們一點關于世界上最美的地方的事情吧!你到那兒去過么?你到儲藏室去過嗎?那兒的架子上放著許多乳餅，天花板下面掛著許多火腿;那兒，我們在蠟燭上跳舞;那兒，我們走進去的時候瘦，出來的時候胖。”
“這個我可不知道，”樅樹說。“不過我對于樹林很熟悉——那兒太陽照著，鳥兒唱著歌。”
于是它講了一些關于它的少年時代的故事。小耗子們從來沒有聽過這類事情，它們靜聽著，說：
“嗨，你看到過的東西真多!你曾經是多么幸福啊!”
“我嗎?”樅樹說，同時把自己講過的話想了一下，“是的，那的確是非常幸福的一個時期!”于是它敘述圣誕節前夕的故事——那時它身上飾滿了糖果和蠟燭。
“啊，”小耗子說，“你曾經是多么幸福啊，你這株老樅樹!”
“我并不老呀!”樅樹說。“我不過是今年冬天才離開樹林的。我是一個青壯年呀，雖然此刻我已經不再生長!”
“你的故事講得多美啊!”小耗子說。
第二天夜里，它們帶來另外四個小耗子聽樅樹講故事。它越講得多，就越清楚地回憶起過去的一切。于是它想：“那的確是非常幸福的一個時期!但是它會再回來!它會再回來!泥巴球滾下了樓梯，結果得到了公主。可能我也會得到一位公主哩!”這時樅樹想起了長在樹林里的一株可愛的小赤楊：對于樅樹說來，這株赤楊真算得是一位美麗的公主。
“誰是那位泥巴球?”小耗子問。
樅樹把整個故事講了一遍，每一個字它都能記得清清楚楚。這些小耗子樂得想在這株樹的頂上翻翻跟頭。第二天晚上有更多的小耗子來了，在禮拜天那天，甚至還有兩個大老鼠出現了。不過它們認為這個故事并不好聽;小耗子們也覺得很惋惜，因為它們對這故事的興趣也淡下來了。
“你只會講這個故事么?”大老鼠問。
“只會這一個!”樅樹回答說。“這故事是我在生活中最幸福的一個晚上聽到的。那時我并不覺得我是多么幸福!”
“這是一個很蹩腳的故事!你不會講一個關于臘肉和蠟燭的故事么?不會講一個關于儲藏室的故事么?”
“不會!”樅樹說。
“那么謝謝你!”大老鼠回答說。于是它們就走開了。
最后小耗子們也走開了。樅樹嘆了一口氣，說：
“當這些快樂的小耗子坐在我身旁、聽我講故事的時候，一切倒是蠻好的。現在什么都完了!不過當人們再把我搬出去的時候，我將要記住什么叫做快樂!”
不過結果是怎樣呢?嗨，有一天早晨人們來收拾這個頂樓：箱子都被挪開了，樅樹被拖出來了——人們粗暴地把它扔到地板上，不過一個傭人馬上把它拖到樓梯邊去。陽光在這兒照著。
“生活現在又可以開始了!”樅樹想。
它感覺到新鮮空氣和早晨的太陽光。它現在是躺在院子里。一切是過得這樣快，樅樹也忘記把自己看一下——周圍值得看的東西真是太多了。院子是在一個花園的附近;這兒所有的花都開了。玫瑰懸在小小的柵欄上，又嫩又香。菩提樹也正在開著花。燕子們在飛來飛去，說“吱爾——微爾——微特!我們的愛人回來了!”不過它們所指的并不是這株樅樹。
“現在我要生活了!”樅樹興高采烈地說，同時把它的枝子展開。但是，唉!這些枝子都枯了，黃了。它現在是躺在一個生滿了荊棘和荒草的墻角邊。銀紙做的星星還掛在它的頂上，而且還在明朗的太陽光中發亮呢。
院子里有幾個快樂的小孩子在玩耍。他們在圣誕節的時候，曾繞著這樹跳過舞，和它在一塊高興過。最年輕的一個小孩子跑過來，摘下一顆金星。
“你們看，這株奇丑的老樅樹身上掛著什么東西!”這孩子說。他用靴子踩著枝子，直到枝子發出斷裂聲。
樅樹把花園里盛開的花和華麗的景色望了一眼，又把自己看了一下，它希望自己現在仍然待在頂樓的一個黑暗的角落里。它想起了自己在樹林里新鮮的青春時代，想起了那快樂的圣誕節前夕，想起了那些高興地聽著它講關于泥巴球的故事的小耗子們。
“完了!完了!”可憐的樅樹說。“當我能夠快樂的時候，我應該快樂一下才對!完了!完了!”
傭人走來了，把這株樹砍成碎片。它成了一大捆柴，它在一個大酒鍋底下熊熊地燃著。它深深地嘆著氣;每一個嘆息聲就像一個小小的槍聲。在那兒玩耍著的小孩子們跑過來，坐在火邊，朝它里面望，同時叫著：“燒呀!燒呀!”每一個爆裂聲是一個深深的嘆息。在它發出每一聲嘆息的時候，它就回想起了在樹林里的夏天，和星星照耀著的冬夜;它回憶起了圣誕節的前夕和它所聽到過的和會講的唯一的故事——泥巴球的故事。這時候樅樹已經全被燒成灰了。
孩子們都在院子里玩耍。最小的那個孩子把這樹曾經在它最幸福的一個晚上所戴過的那顆金星掛在自己的胸前。現在一切都完了，樅樹的生命也完了，這故事也完了;完了!完了!——一切故事都是這樣。
①原文是Klumpe-dumpe，照字面直譯就是“滾著的泥塊”。
樅樹英文版：
The Fir Tree
FAR down in the forest, where the warm sun and the fresh air made a sweet resting-place, grew a pretty little fir-tree; and yet it was not happy, it wished so much to be tall like its companions— the pines and firs which grew around it. The sun shone, and the soft air fluttered its leaves, and the little peasant children passed by, prattling merrily, but the fir-tree heeded them not. Sometimes the children would bring a large basket of raspberries or strawberries, wreathed on a straw, and seat themselves near the fir-tree, and say, “Is it not a pretty little tree?” which made it feel more unhappy than before. And yet all this while the tree grew a notch or joint taller every year; for by the number of joints in the stem of a fir-tree we can discover its age. Still, as it grew, it complained, “Oh! how I wish I were as tall as the other trees, then I would spread out my branches on every side, and my top would over-look the wide world. I should have the birds building their nests on my boughs, and when the wind blew, I should bow with stately dignity like my tall companions.” The tree was so discontented, that it took no pleasure in the warm sunshine, the birds, or the rosy clouds that floated over it morning and evening. Sometimes, in winter, when the snow lay white and glittering on the ground, a hare would come springing along, and jump right over the little tree; and then how mortified it would feel! Two winters passed, and when the third arrived, the tree had grown so tall that the hare was obliged to run round it. Yet it remained unsatisfied, and would exclaim, “Oh, if I could but keep on growing tall and old! There is nothing else worth caring for in the world!” In the autumn, as usual, the wood-cutters came and cut down several of the tallest trees, and the young fir-tree, which was now grown to its full height, shuddered as the noble trees fell to the earth with a crash. After the branches were lopped off, the trunks looked so slender and bare, that they could scarcely be recognized. Then they were placed upon wagons, and drawn by horses out of the forest. “Where were they going? What would become of them?” The young fir-tree wished very much to know; so in the spring, when the swallows and the storks came, it asked, “Do you know where those trees were taken? Did you meet them?”
The swallows knew nothing, but the stork, after a little reflection, nodded his head, and said, “Yes, I think I do. I met several new ships when I flew from Egypt, and they had fine masts that smelt like fir. I think these must have been the trees; I assure you they were stately, very stately.”
“Oh, how I wish I were tall enough to go on the sea,” said the fir-tree. “What is the sea, and what does it look like?”
“It would take too much time to explain,” said the stork, flying quickly away.
“Rejoice in thy youth,” said the sunbeam; “rejoice in thy fresh growth, and the young life that is in thee.”
And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew watered it with tears; but the fir-tree regarded them not.
Christmas-time drew near, and many young trees were cut down, some even smaller and younger than the fir-tree who enjoyed neither rest nor peace with longing to leave its forest home. These young trees, which were chosen for their beauty, kept their branches, and were also laid on wagons and drawn by horses out of the forest.
“Where are they going?” asked the fir-tree. “They are not taller than I am: indeed, one is much less; and why are the branches not cut off? Where are they going?”
“We know, we know,” sang the sparrows; “we have looked in at the windows of the houses in the town, and we know what is done with them. They are dressed up in the most splendid manner. We have seen them standing in the middle of a warm room, and adorned with all sorts of beautiful things,—honey cakes, gilded apples, playthings, and many hundreds of wax tapers.”
“And then,” asked the fir-tree, trembling through all its branches, “and then what happens?”
“We did not see any more,” said the sparrows; “but this was enough for us.”
“I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me,” thought the fir-tree. “It would be much better than crossing the sea. I long for it almost with pain. Oh! when will Christmas be here? I am now as tall and well grown as those which were taken away last year. Oh! that I were now laid on the wagon, or standing in the warm room, with all that brightness and splendor around me! Something better and more beautiful is to come after, or the trees would not be so decked out. Yes, what follows will be grander and more splendid. What can it be? I am weary with longing. I scarcely know how I feel.”
“Rejoice with us,” said the air and the sunlight. “Enjoy thine own bright life in the fresh air.”
But the tree would not rejoice, though it grew taller every day; and, winter and summer, its dark-green foliage might be seen in the forest, while passers by would say, “What a beautiful tree!”
A short time before Christmas, the discontented fir-tree was the first to fall. As the axe cut through the stem, and divided the pith, the tree fell with a groan to the earth, conscious of pain and faintness, and forgetting all its anticipations of happiness, in sorrow at leaving its home in the forest. It knew that it should never again see its dear old companions, the trees, nor the little bushes and many-colored flowers that had grown by its side; perhaps not even the birds. Neither was the journey at all pleasant. The tree first recovered itself while being unpacked in the courtyard of a house, with several other trees; and it heard a man say, “We only want one, and this is the prettiest.”
Then came two servants in grand livery, and carried the fir-tree into a large and beautiful apartment. On the walls hung pictures, and near the great stove stood great china vases, with lions on the lids. There were rocking chairs, silken sofas, large tables, covered with pictures, books, and playthings, worth a great deal of money,—at least, the children said so. Then the fir-tree was placed in a large tub, full of sand; but green baize hung all around it, so that no one could see it was a tub, and it stood on a very handsome carpet. How the fir-tree trembled! “What was going to happen to him now?” Some young ladies came, and the servants helped them to adorn the tree. On one branch they hung little bags cut out of colored paper, and each bag was filled with sweetmeats; from other branches hung gilded apples and walnuts, as if they had grown there; and above, and all round, were hundreds of red, blue, and white tapers, which were fastened on the branches. Dolls, exactly like real babies, were placed under the green leaves,—the tree had never seen such things before,—and at the very top was fastened a glittering star, made of tinsel. Oh, it was very beautiful!
“This evening,” they all exclaimed, “how bright it will be!” “Oh, that the evening were come,” thought the tree, “and the tapers lighted! then I shall know what else is going to happen. Will the trees of the forest come to see me? I wonder if the sparrows will peep in at the windows as they fly? shall I grow faster here, and keep on all these ornaments summer and winter?” But guessing was of very little use; it made his bark ache, and this pain is as bad for a slender fir-tree, as headache is for us. At last the tapers were lighted, and then what a glistening blaze of light the tree presented! It trembled so with joy in all its branches, that one of the candles fell among the green leaves and burnt some of them. “Help! help!” exclaimed the young ladies, but there was no danger, for they quickly extinguished the fire. After this, the tree tried not to tremble at all, though the fire frightened him; he was so anxious not to hurt any of the beautiful ornaments, even while their brilliancy dazzled him. And now the folding doors were thrown open, and a troop of children rushed in as if they intended to upset the tree; they were followed more silently by their elders. For a moment the little ones stood silent with astonishment, and then they shouted for joy, till the room rang, and they danced merrily round the tree, while one present after another was taken from it.
“What are they doing? What will happen next?” thought the fir. At last the candles burnt down to the branches and were put out. Then the children received permission to plunder the tree.
Oh, how they rushed upon it, till the branches cracked, and had it not been fastened with the glistening star to the ceiling, it must have been thrown down. The children then danced about with their pretty toys, and no one noticed the tree, except the children’s maid who came and peeped among the branches to see if an apple or a fig had been forgotten.
“A story, a story,” cried the children, pulling a little fat man towards the tree.
“Now we shall be in the green shade,” said the man, as he seated himself under it, “and the tree will have the pleasure of hearing also, but I shall only relate one story; what shall it be? Ivede-Avede, or Humpty Dumpty, who fell down stairs, but soon got up again, and at last married a princess.”
“Ivede-Avede,” cried some. “Humpty Dumpty,” cried others, and there was a fine shouting and crying out. But the fir-tree remained quite still, and thought to himself, “Shall I have anything to do with all this?” but he had already amused them as much as they wished. Then the old man told them the story of Humpty Dumpty, how he fell down stairs, and was raised up again, and married a princess. And the children clapped their hands and cried, “Tell another, tell another,” for they wanted to hear the story of “Ivede-Avede;” but they only had “Humpty Dumpty.” After this the fir-tree became quite silent and thoughtful; never had the birds in the forest told such tales as “Humpty Dumpty,” who fell down stairs, and yet married a princess.
“Ah! yes, so it happens in the world,” thought the fir-tree; he believed it all, because it was related by such a nice man. “Ah! well,” he thought, “who knows? perhaps I may fall down too, and marry a princess;” and he looked forward joyfully to the next evening, expecting to be again decked out with lights and playthings, gold and fruit. “To-morrow I will not tremble,” thought he; “I will enjoy all my splendor, and I shall hear the story of Humpty Dumpty again, and perhaps Ivede-Avede.” And the tree remained quiet and thoughtful all night. In the morning the servants and the housemaid came in. “Now,” thought the fir, “all my splendor is going to begin again.” But they dragged him out of the room and up stairs to the garret, and threw him on the floor, in a dark corner, where no daylight shone, and there they left him. “What does this mean?” thought the tree, “what am I to do here? I can hear nothing in a place like this,” and he had time enough to think, for days and nights passed and no one came near him, and when at last somebody did come, it was only to put away large boxes in a corner. So the tree was completely hidden from sight as if it had never existed. “It is winter now,” thought the tree, “the ground is hard and covered with snow, so that people cannot plant me. I shall be sheltered here, I dare say, until spring comes. How thoughtful and kind everybody is to me! Still I wish this place were not so dark, as well as lonely, with not even a little hare to look at. How pleasant it was out in the forest while the snow lay on the ground, when the hare would run by, yes, and jump over me too, although I did not like it then. Oh! it is terrible lonely here.”
“Squeak, squeak,” said a little mouse, creeping cautiously towards the tree; then came another; and they both sniffed at the fir-tree and crept between the branches.
“Oh, it is very cold,” said the little mouse, “or else we should be so comfortable here, shouldn’t we, you old fir-tree?”
“I am not old,” said the fir-tree, “there are many who are older than I am.”
“Where do you come from? and what do you know?” asked the mice, who were full of curiosity. “Have you seen the most beautiful places in the world, and can you tell us all about them? and have you been in the storeroom, where cheeses lie on the shelf, and hams hang from the ceiling? One can run about on tallow candles there, and go in thin and come out fat.”
“I know nothing of that place,” said the fir-tree, “but I know the wood where the sun shines and the birds sing.” And then the tree told the little mice all about its youth. They had never heard such an account in their lives; and after they had listened to it attentively, they said, “What a number of things you have seen? you must have been very happy.”
“Happy!” exclaimed the fir-tree, and then as he reflected upon what he had been telling them, he said, “Ah, yes! after all those were happy days.” But when he went on and related all about Christmas-eve, and how he had been dressed up with cakes and lights, the mice said, “How happy you must have been, you old fir-tree.”
“I am not old at all,” replied the tree, “I only came from the forest this winter, I am now checked in my growth.”
“What splendid stories you can relate,” said the little mice. And the next night four other mice came with them to hear what the tree had to tell. The more he talked the more he remembered, and then he thought to himself, “Those were happy days, but they may come again. Humpty Dumpty fell down stairs, and yet he married the princess; perhaps I may marry a princess too.” And the fir-tree thought of the pretty little birch-tree that grew in the forest, which was to him a real beautiful princess.
“Who is Humpty Dumpty?” asked the little mice. And then the tree related the whole story; he could remember every single word, and the little mice was so delighted with it, that they were ready to jump to the top of the tree. The next night a great many more mice made their appearance, and on Sunday two rats came with them; but they said, it was not a pretty story at all, and the little mice were very sorry, for it made them also think less of it.
“Do you know only one story?” asked the rats.
“Only one,” replied the fir-tree; “I heard it on the happiest evening of my life; but I did not know I was so happy at the time.”
“We think it is a very miserable story,” said the rats. “Don’t you know any story about bacon, or tallow in the storeroom.”
“No,” replied the tree.
“Many thanks to you then,” replied the rats, and they marched off.
The little mice also kept away after this, and the tree sighed, and said, “It was very pleasant when the merry little mice sat round me and listened while I talked. Now that is all passed too. However, I shall consider myself happy when some one comes to take me out of this place.” But would this ever happen? Yes; one morning people came to clear out the garret, the boxes were packed away, and the tree was pulled out of the corner, and thrown roughly on the garret floor; then the servant dragged it out upon the staircase where the daylight shone. “Now life is beginning again,” said the tree, rejoicing in the sunshine and fresh air. Then it was carried down stairs and taken into the courtyard so quickly, that it forgot to think of itself, and could only look about, there was so much to be seen. The court was close to a garden, where everything looked blooming. Fresh and fragrant roses hung over the little palings. The linden-trees were in blossom; while the swallows flew here and there, crying, “Twit, twit, twit, my mate is coming,”—but it was not the fir-tree they meant. “Now I shall live,” cried the tree, joyfully spreading out its branches; but alas! they were all withered and yellow, and it lay in a corner amongst weeds and nettles. The star of gold paper still stuck in the top of the tree and glittered in the sunshine. In the same courtyard two of the merry children were playing who had danced round the tree at Christmas, and had been so happy. The youngest saw the gilded star, and ran and pulled it off the tree. “Look what is sticking to the ugly old fir-tree,” said the child, treading on the branches till they crackled under his boots. And the tree saw all the fresh bright flowers in the garden, and then looked at itself, and wished it had remained in the dark corner of the garret. It thought of its fresh youth in the forest, of the merry Christmas evening, and of the little mice who had listened to the story of “Humpty Dumpty.” “Past! past!” said the old tree; “Oh, had I but enjoyed myself while I could have done so! but now it is too late.” Then a lad came and chopped the tree into small pieces, till a large bundle lay in a heap on the ground. The pieces were placed in a fire under the copper, and they quickly blazed up brightly, while the tree sighed so deeply that each sigh was like a pistol-shot. Then the children, who were at play, came and seated themselves in front of the fire, and looked at it and cried, “Pop, pop.” But at each “pop,” which was a deep sigh, the tree was thinking of a summer day in the forest; and of Christmas evening, and of “Humpty Dumpty,” the only story it had ever heard or knew how to relate, till at last it was consumed. The boys still played in the garden, and the youngest wore the golden star on his breast, with which the tree had been adorned during the happiest evening of its existence. Now all was past; the tree’s life was past, and the story also,—for all stories must come to an end at last.
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