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He erected magnificent palaces, churches, and halls, and all
who saw these splendid buildings and great treasures exclaimed
admiringly: "What a mighty prince!" But they did not know what endless
misery he had brought upon other countries, nor did they hear the
sighs and lamentations which rose up from the debris of the
destroyed cities.
The prince often looked with delight upon his gold and his
magnificent edifices, and thought, like the crowd: "What a mighty
prince! But I must have more- much more.
No power on earth must
equal mine, far less exceed it."
He made war with all his neighbours, and defeated them. The
conquered kings were chained up with golden fetters to his chariot
when he drove through the streets of his city. These kings had to
kneel at his and his courtiers' feet when they sat at table, and
live on the morsels which they left. At last the prince had his own
statue erected on the public places and fixed on the royal palaces;
nay, he even wished it to be placed in the churches, on the altars,
but in this the priests opposed him, saying: "Prince, you are mighty
indeed, but God's power is much greater than yours; we dare not obey
your orders."
"Well," said the prince. "Then I will conquer God too." And in his
haughtiness and foolish presumption he ordered a magnificent ship to
be constructed, with which he could sail through the air; it was
gorgeously fitted out and of many colours; like the tail of a peacock,
it was covered with thousands of eyes, but each eye was the barrel
of a gun. The prince sat in the centre of the ship, and had only to
touch a spring in order to make thousands of bullets fly out in all
directions, while the guns were at once loaded again.
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There was once a French king- I have forgotten his name, for
the names of good people are sometimes forgotten, even by me, but it
will come back some day;- there was a king who, during a famine,
became the benefactor of his people; and the people raised up to his
memory a monument of snow, with the inscription, 'Quicker than this
melts didst thou bring help!' I fancy that Death, looking back upon
the monument, gave him a single snow-flake as provision, a
snow-flake that never melts, and this flake floated over his royal
head, like a white butterfly, into the land of eternity.
Thus, too,
there was Louis XI. I have remembered his name, for one remembers what
is bad- a trait of him often comes into my thoughts, and I wish one
could say the story is not true. He had his lord high constable
executed, and he could execute him, right or wrong; but he had the
innocent children of the constable, one seven and the other eight
years old, placed under the scaffold so that the warm blood of their
father spurted over them, and then he had them sent to the Bastille,
and shut up in iron cages, where not even a coverlet was given them to
protect them from the cold.
And King Louis sent the executioner to
them every week, and had a tooth pulled out of the head of each,
that they might not be too comfortable; and the elder of the boys
said, 'My mother would die of grief if she knew that my younger
brother had to suffer so cruelly; therefore pull out two of my
teeth, and spare him.' The tears came into the hangman's eyes, but the
king's will was stronger than the tears; and every week two little
teeth were brought to him on a silver plate; he had demanded them, and
he had them.
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The flower must be one
from the garden of love; but which of the roses there showed forth the
highest and purest love? The poets sang of this rose, the loveliest in
the world, and each named one which he considered worthy of that
title; and intelligence of what was required was sent far and wide
to every heart that beat with love; to every class, age, and
condition.
"No one has yet named the flower," said the wise man. "No one
has pointed out the spot where it blooms in all its splendor.
It is
not a rose from the coffin of Romeo and Juliet, or from the grave of
Walburg, though these roses will live in everlasting song. It is not
one of the roses which sprouted forth from the blood-stained fame of
Winkelreid. The blood which flows from the breast of a hero who dies
for his country is sacred, and his memory is sweet, and no rose can be
redder than the blood which flows from his veins. Neither is it the
magic flower of Science, to obtain which wondrous flower a man devotes
many an hour of his fresh young life in sleepless nights, in a
lonely chamber."
"I know where it blooms," said a happy mother, who came with her
lovely child to the bedside of the queen. "I know where the
loveliest rose in the world is. It is seen on the blooming cheeks of
my sweet child, when it expresses the pure and holy love of infancy;
when refreshed by sleep it opens its eyes, and smiles upon me with
childlike affection."
"This is a lovely rose," said the wise man; "but there is one
still more lovely."
"Yes, one far more lovely," said one of the women.
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At parting, Joanna's father had said, "Now, you won't quite forget
us; you must not let the whole winter go by without paying us
another visit;" so that Knud felt himself free to go again the
following Sunday evening, and so he did. But every evening after
working hours- and they worked by candle-light then- he walked out
into the town, and through the street in which Joanna lived, to look
up at her window. It was almost always lighted up; and one evening
he saw the shadow of her face quite plainly on the window blind;
that was a glorious evening for him.
His master's wife did not like
his always going out in the evening, idling, wasting time, as she
called it, and she shook her head.
But his master only smiled, and said, "He is a young man, my dear,
you know."
"On Sunday I shall see her," said Knud to himself, "and I will
tell her that I love her with my whole heart and soul, and that she
must be my little wife. I know I am now only a poor journeyman
shoemaker, but I will work and strive, and become a master in time.
Yes, I will speak to her; nothing comes from silent love.
I know I am now only a poor journeyman
shoemaker, but I will work and strive, and become a master in time.
Yes, I will speak to her; nothing comes from silent love. I learnt
that from the gingerbread-cake story."
Sunday came, but when Knud arrived, they were all unfortunately
invited out to spend the evening, and were obliged to tell him so.
Joanna pressed his hand, and said, "Have you ever been to the
theatre? you must go once; I sing there on Wednesday, and if you
have time on that day, I will send you a ticket; my father knows where
your master lives."
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"One can always get actors if one makes use of what one has,"
observed grandpapa.
"Now we'll go into the theatre. Here we will put up a book,
there another, and there a third, in a sloping row. Now three on the
other side; so, now we have the side scenes. The old box that lies
yonder may be the back stairs; and we'll lay the flooring on top of
it. The stage represents a room, as every one may see. Now we want the
actors. Let us see what we can find in the plaything-box.
The stage represents a room, as every one may see. Now we want the
actors. Let us see what we can find in the plaything-box. First the
personages, and then we will get the play ready. One after the
other; that will be capital! Here's a pipe-head, and yonder an odd
glove; they will do very well for father and daughter."
"But those are only two characters," said little Anna. "Here's
my brother's old waistcoat- could not that play in our piece, too?"
"It's big enough, certainly," replied grandpapa.
"It shall be
the lover. There's nothing in the pockets, and that's very
interesting, for that's half of an unfortunate attachment. And here we
have the nut-cracker's boots, with spurs to them. Row, dow, dow! how
they can stamp and strut! They shall represent the unwelcome wooer,
whom the lady does not like. What kind of a play will you have now?
Shall it be a tragedy, or a domestic drama?"
"A domestic drama, please," said little Anna, "for the others
are so fond of that. Do you know one?"
"I know a hundred," said grandpapa.
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Behind the counter, as a
rule, there were no young men. The clerks were almost all old boys;
but they did not dress as we are accustomed to see old men
represented, wearing wigs, nightcaps, and knee-breeches, and with coat
and waistcoat buttoned up to the chin. We have seen the portraits of
our great-grandfathers dressed in this way; but the "pepper gentlemen"
had no money to spare to have their portraits taken, though one of
them would have made a very interesting picture for us now, if taken
as he appeared standing behind his counter, or going to church, or
on holidays.
On these occasions, they wore high-crowned, broad-brimmed
hats, and sometimes a younger clerk would stick a feather in his.
The woollen shirt was concealed by a broad, linen collar; the close
jacket was buttoned up to the chin, and the cloak hung loosely over
it; the trousers were tucked into the broad, tipped shoes, for the
clerks wore no stockings. They generally stuck a table-knife and spoon
in their girdles, as well as a larger knife, as a protection to
themselves; and such a weapon was often very necessary.
They generally stuck a table-knife and spoon
in their girdles, as well as a larger knife, as a protection to
themselves; and such a weapon was often very necessary.
After this fashion was Anthony dressed on holidays and
festivals, excepting that, instead of a high-crowned hat, he wore a
kind of bonnet, and under it a knitted cap, a regular nightcap, to
which he was so accustomed that it was always on his head; he had two,
nightcaps I mean, not heads. Anthony was one of the oldest of the
clerks, and just the subject for a painter.
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