The Fairy Tales of Hans Christian Andersen/The Garden of Paradise
The Garden of Paradise
THE FOUR WINDS
HERE once lived a king’s son, who possessed a larger and more beautiful collection of books than anybody ever had before. He could read in their pages all the events that had ever taken place in the world, and see them illustrated by the most exquisite engravings.
He could obtain information about any people or any country, only not a word could he ever find as to the geographical position of the Garden of the World; and this was just what he was most desirous of ascertaining.
His grandmother had told him, when he was quite a little boy, and beginning to go to school, that each flower in the Garden of the World was the most delicious cake, and had its stamina filled with luscious wine; on one stood written historical facts, on another geography or arithmetical tables—and so one need only eat cakes to learn one’s lesson, and the more one ate, the more history, geography, and arithmetic one acquired.
He used to believe this. But when he grew a little older, and had learned more and become wiser, he began to understand that there must be better delights than these in the Garden of the World.
He was now seventeen, and nothing ran in his head but this garden. One day he went to take a walk in the forest, all alone, as he best liked to be.
As evening came on, the sky grew overcast, and there came on such a shower, that it seemed as if the heavens had become one vast sluice that kept pouring down water; besides this, it was darker than it usually is, even at night, except at the bottom of the deepest well. At every step, he either slipped on the wet grass; or stumbled over some bare rock. Everything was dripping wet, and the poor prince had not a dry thread about him. He was obliged to climb over huge blocks of stone, where water was running down from the thick moss. He was near fainting away, when he heard a singular rushing noise, and perceived a large cavern, lighted up by a huge fire, piled up in the middle, and fit to roast a whole deer. And this, indeed, was being done. A very fine deer, with its branching horns, was placed on a spit, and slowly turned round between the felled trunks of two pine-trees. An elderly woman, as bony and masculine as though she were a man in female attire, sat by the fire, and kept throwing in one log of wood after another.
AT EVERY STEP HE SLIPPED ON THE WET GRASS.
“Come nearer,” said she, “and sit by the fire, and dry your clothes.”
“There is a great draught here,” observed the prince, sitting down on the ground.
“It will be much worse when my sons come home,” returned the woman. “You are in the Cavern of the Winds. My sons are the Four Winds of Heaven—can you understand that?”
“Where are your sons?” asked the prince.
“It is difficult to answer a silly question,” said the woman. “My sons are now at it, with their own hands. They are playing at shuttlecock with the clouds, up there in the King’s hall.” And she pointed above.
“Oh, that’s it!” quoth the prince. “But you seem to speak rather harshly, and are not as gentle as the women I am accustomed to see.
“Because they have nothing else to do. But I must be harsh, to keep my boys in any order; which I manage to do, headstrong as they are. You see those four bags hanging on the wall? Well, they are every bit as much afraid of them as you used to be of the rod behind the looking-glass. I bend the boys in two, I can tell you, and then pop them into the bag, without their making the least resistance. There they stay, and don’t dare come out till I think it proper they should. But here comes one of them.”
It was the North Wind who came in, diffusing an icy coldness around. Large hailstones jumped about on the floor, and snow-flakes were scattered in all directions. He wore a bearskin jacket and clothes; his cap of sea-dog’s skin came down over his ears; long icicles clung to his beard, and one hailstone after another fell from the collar of his jacket.
“Don’t go too near the fire at once,” said the prince, “or your face and hands might easily get frozen.”
“Frozen, quotha!” said the North Wind, with a loud laugh. “Why, cold is my greatest delight! But what kind of little snip are you? How did you come into the Cavern of the Winds?”
“He is my guest,” said the old woman; “and if that does not satisfy you, why, you need only get into the bag. Do you understand me now?”
Well, this did the business at once; and the North Wind then began to relate whence he came, and where he had been staying for nearly a month past.
“I come from the Arctic Sea,” said he, “and I have been on Bear’s Island, with the Russian sea-cow hunters. I sat and slept at the helm, as they sailed away from the North Cape; but whenever I happened to wake, the petrels were flying about my legs. What comical birds they are! They will flap their wings suddenly, and then remain poised upon them, and quite motionless, as if they had had enough of flying.”
“Don’t be so diffuse,” said the mother of the Winds. “And so you reached Bear’s Island?”
“It’s a beautiful place! There’s a ball-room floor for you, as smooth as a plate! Heaps of half-thawed snow, slightly covered with moss, sharp stones, and skeletons of sea-cows and bears were lying about, together with the arms and legs of giants in a state of green decay. It looks as if the sun had never shone there. I blew slightly on the mist, that the hovels might be visible, and there appeared a hut, built from the remains of a ship that had been wrecked, and covered over with sea-cows’ skins. The fleshy side was turned outwards, and it was both red and green. A living bear sat growling on the roof. I went to the shore, and looked after birds’ nests, and saw the unfledged youngsters opening their beaks and screaming lustily; so I blew into their thousands of throats, and they learned to shut their mouths. A little farther on, the sea-cows were rolling about like giant worms with pigs’ heads, and teeth a yard long.”
“You tell your adventures right pleasantly, my son,” said his mother; “it makes my mouth water to hear you.”
“I SAT AND SLEPT AT THE HELM.”
“Then the hunting began. The harpoon was flung right into the sea-cow’s chest, so that a smoking jet of blood spurted forth like water from a fountain, and besprinkled the ice. Then I thought of my part of the game. I began to blow, and set my vessels, the towering icebergs, to stick the boats fast. Oh! what a whistling and a bawling there was! Only I whistled louder than all of them. They were obliged to unpack the dead sea-cows, the chests, and the tackle upon the ice; I then shook snowflakes over them, and left them and their spoils to sail in their pent-up vessels towards the south, to drink salt-water. They will never return to Bear’s Island.”
“Then you have done mischief?” said the mother of the Winds.
“Let others tell of the good I may have done!” said he. “But here comes my brother from the West. I like him the best, because he smacks of the sea, and brings a nice bracing cold with him.”
“Is that the little Zephyr?” asked the prince.
“Yes, that is the Zephyr!” said the old woman; “but he’s not so very little either. Some years ago he was a pretty boy; but that is now over.”
He looked like a wild man; but he wore a roller round his head, that he might not get hurt. In his hand he held a mahogany club, hewn from an American mahogany forest. It was no small weight to carry.
“Whence do you come?” asked the mother.
“From the wild forests,” said he, “where tangled bindweed forms a hedge between each tree, where water-snakes lie in the damp grass, and where man seems to be a superfluous nonentity.”
“What have you been doing there?”
“I looked into the deep river, and saw it had rushed down from the rocks, and then became dust, and flew towards the clouds to support the rainbow. I saw a wild buffalo swimming in the river, but he was carried away by the tide. He had joined a flock of wild ducks, who flew up into the air the moment the waters dashed downwards. The buffalo was obliged to be hurled into the precipice. This pleased me, and I raised a storm, so that the oldest trees sailed down the river, and were reduced to splinters.”
HE KISSED HIS MOTHER SO ROUGHLY, THAT SHE NEARLY FELL BACWARDS.
“And was that all you did?” asked the old woman.
“I cut capers in the savannahs; I stroked wild horses, and shook cocoa-nut trees. Oh! I have plenty of tales to tell! Only one must not tell all one knows, as you well know good mammy.” And he kissed his mother so roughly, that she had nearly fallen backwards. He was a shocking wild lad.
Now, in came the South Wind in a turban and Bedouin’s flying mantle.
“It is very cold hereabouts!” said he, throwing wood upon the fire. “It is easy to perceive that the North Wind has preceded me.”
“It is hot enough here to roast a northern bear!” said the North Wind.
“You are a bear yourself!” answered the South Wind.
“Have you a mind to be both put into the bag?” asked the old woman. “There! sit down on that stone, and tell us where you have been.”
“AN OSTRICH RAN A RACE WITH ME.”
“In Africa, mother,” returned he. “I was amongst the Hottentots, who were lion-hunting in Caffraria. The grass in their plains looks as green as an olive. An ostrich ran a race with me, but I beat him hollow. I reached the yellow sands of the desert, which look like the bottom of the sea. I met a caravan. ⟨They killed their last camel to obtain some water; but they only got a very little. The sun was scorching above, and the sand equally scorching beneath one’s feet. The desert stretched out into boundless expanse.⟩ I then rolled in the fine, loose sand, and made it whirl about in large columns. A fine dance I led it! You should have seen how dejected the dromedaries looked as they stood stock still, and how the merchants pulled their caftans over their heads. They threw themselves on the ground before me as they would before Allah, their God. They are now all buried beneath a pyramid of sand; and when I come to puff it away, the sun will bleach their bones, and travellers will see that others have been there before them: a fact which is seldom believed in the desert, short of some tangible proof.”
“Then you have done nothing but mischief!” said his mother. “Into the bag with you!” And before he had time to perceive it, she had taken the South Wind round the waist, and popped him into the bag. He wriggled about on the ground, but she sat upon him, and then he was forced to lie still.
“Your sons are a set of lively boys!” said the prince.
“Yes,” answered she; “and I know how to correct them. Here comes the fourth.”
This was the East Wind, who was dressed like a Chinese.
“Oh! you come from that neighbourhood, do you?” said his mother. “I thought you had been to the Garden of the World?”
HE SAT ON THE BACK OF THE EAST WIND.
“I am going there to-morrow,” said the East Wind. “To-morrow it will be a hundred years since I was there. I have just returned from China, where I danced round the porcelain tower till all the bells were set a-jingling. The government officers were being beaten in the street; the bamboo stick was broken across their shoulders; and these were people belonging to the several degrees from the first to the ninth. They cried out: ‘Many thanks, my fatherly benefactor!’ But the words did not come from their hearts, so I made the bells jingle, and sang: ‘Tsing! tsang! tsu!’”
“You are a wanton boy!” said the old woman. “It is well you are going to-morrow to the Garden of the World, for that always improves your mind. Pray drink abundantly from the fountain of wisdom, and take a small phial and bring it home full for me.”
“I will,” said the East Wind. “But why have you put my brother from the South into the bag? Take him out again; I want him to tell me about the phœnix, for the princess in the Garden of the World always asks after him when I pay her my visit every hundredth year. Open the bag, there’s a dear mammy, and I'll give you two pocketfuls of tea-leaves, all green and fresh, just as I plucked them from the bush on the spot where it grew.”
“Well, for the sake of the tea, and because you are mammy’s own boy, I will open the bag.”
This she accordingly did, and out crept the South Wind, looking rather foolish, because the strange prince had witnessed his disgrace.
“There is a palm-tree leaf for the princess,” said the South Wind. “The old phœnix, the only bird of his sort in the wide world, gave me this leaf. He has traced upon it with his beak the whole history of his life during the hundred years that form its span. She may, therefore, be now enabled to read how the phœnix set fire to his nest, and sat upon it as it was burning, like the widow of a Hindoo. How the dried twigs did crackle! and what a smoke there was! At length out burst the flames; the old phœnix was burnt to ashes, but an egg lay glowing hot in the fire. It burst with a loud report, and the young bird flew out; and now he is king over all the other birds, and the only phœnix in the world. He has bitten a hole in the leaf which I gave you, and that is his way of sending his duty to the princess.”
“Now let us eat something,” said the mother of the Winds. And they all sat down to partake of the roast deer. The prince sat beside the East Wind; therefore, they soon became good friends.
“And pray what kind of a princess may she be whom you are talking so much about, and where lies the Garden of the World ?
“Ho, ho!” said the East Wind. “What! have you a mind to go there? Well, you can fly over with me to-morrow; though I must tell you no mortal ever visited it before. It is inhabited by a fairy queen, and in it lies the Island of Happiness, a lovely spot, where death never intrudes. Get upon my back to-morrow, and I’ll take you with me; for I think it can be managed. But now don’t speak any more, for I want to sleep.”
And then to sleep they all went.
The prince awoke at an early hour next morning, and was not a little surprised on finding himself high above the clouds. He sat on the back of the East Wind, who was holding him faithfully; and they were so high in the air that forests, fields, rivers, and lakes lay beneath them like a painted map.
“Good morning!” said the East Wind. “You might just as well have slept a bit longer, for there is not much to be seen in the flat country beneath us, except you have a mind to count the churches. They look like chalk dots on the green board.”
It was the fields and the meadows that he called the “green board.”
THEY NOW ENTERED THE CAVERN.
“It was uncivil of me not to take leave of your mother and brothers,” observed the prince.
“When one is asleep, one is to be excused,” replied the East Wind.
And they began to fly quicker than ever. When they swept across the tree-tops, you might have heard a rustling in all their leaves and branches. On the sea and on the lakes, wherever they flew, the waves rose higher and the large ships dipped down into the water like swimming swans.
Towards evening, when it grew dark, the large towns looked beautiful. They were dotted here and there with lights, much after the fashion of a piece of paper that has burned till it is black, when one sees all the little sparks going out one after another. The prince clapped his hands with delight; but the East Wind begged him to let such demonstrations alone, and rather attend to holding fast, or else he might easily fall down and remain dangling on a church steeple.
Fast as the eagle flew through the black forests, the East Wind flew still faster. The Cossack was scouring the plains on his little horse, but the prince soon outstripped him.
“You can now see Himalaya,” said the East Wind, “the highest mountain in Asia—and now we shall soon reach the Garden of the World.” They then turned more southwards, and the air was soon perfumed with spices and flowers. Figs and pomegranates grew wild, and clusters of blue and red grapes hung from wild vines. They now descended to the earth, and reclined on the soft grass, where the flowers seemed to nod to the wind as though they had said—“Welcome!”
“Are we now in the Garden of the World?” asked the prince.
“No, indeed!” replied the East Wind; “but we soon shall be. Do you see yon wall of rocks, and that broad cavern, where the vines hang down like a huge green curtain? That’s the road through which we must pass. Wrap yourself in your mantle, for burning hot as the sun is just hereabouts, it is as cold as ice a few steps farther. The bird who flies past the cavern fels one wing to be in the warm summer abroad while the other is in the depth of winter.”
“So then this seems to be the way to the Garden of the World?” asked the prince.
They now entered the cavern. Oh, how icy cold it was! Only it did not last long. The East Wind spread out his wings, and they beamed like the brightest fire. But what a cavern it was, to be sure! The huge blocks of stone, from which the water kept dripping down, hung over them in the oddest shapes, sometimes narrowing up till they were obliged to creep on all-fours, at other times widening into an expanse as lofty as though situated in the open air. It looked like a chapel for the dead, with petrified organs and dumb organ-pipes.
“We seem to be crossing through an abode of Death to reach the Garden of the World!” said the prince. But the East Wind did not answer a syllable, and merely pointed forwards where the loveliest blue light met their eyes. The blocks of stone above their heads rolled away into a mist that finished by assuming the shape of a white cloud on a moonlight night. They were now in a most delightfully mild atmosphere, as cool as the mountain breeze, and as perfumed as a valley of roses. A river, clear as the itself, was running along, filled with gold and silver fishes; scarlet eels, that emitted blue sparks at every motion, were disporting in the depths of the waters; while the broad leaves of the water-lilies that lay on its surface showed all the tints of the rainbow; the flower itself was a reddish-yellow burning flame that received its nourishment from the water as oil feeds the flame of a lamp. A marble bridge, as delicately sculptured as though it had been made of lace and glass beads, led across the water to the Island of Happiness, where bloomed the Garden of the World.
SHE LED THE PRINCE INTO HER PALACE.
The East Wind took the prince on his arm and carried him over. And the flowers and leaves sang the sweetest songs of his childhood, but in so lovely a strain of melody as no human voice ever yet sang.
Were they palm-trees or gigantic water-plants that grew on this favoured spot? The prince could not tell, for never had he seen such large and luxuriant trees before. The most singular creepers, too, such as one only sees represented in gold and colours in the margins of illuminated old missals, or twined around the first letter in a chapter, were hanging in long festoons on all sides. It was a most curious mixture of birds, and flowers, and scrolls. Just by a flock of peacocks were standing on the grass displaying their gorgeous fan-like tails. The prince took them for live creatures, but found, on touching them, that they were only plants—large burdock leaves, which, in this favoured spot, beamed with all the glorious colours of the peacock’s tail. A lion and tiger were disporting with all the pliancy of cats amongst the green hedges, that were perfumed like the flower of the olive-tree; and both the lion and the tiger were tame. The wild wood-pigeon’s plumage sparkled like the fairest pearl, and the bird flapped the lion's mane with its wings; while the antelope, usually so shy, stood near and nodded its head, as if willing to join them at play.
Now came the fairy of the garden. Her clothes were radiant as the sun, and her countenance was as serene as that of a happy mother rejoicing over her child. She was young and beautiful, and was followed by a train of lovely girls, each wearing a beaming star in her hair. The East Wind gave her the leaf sent by the phœnix, when her eyes sparkled with joy. She took the prince by the hand and led him into her palace, whose walls were of the hues of the most splendid tulip when it is turned towards the sun. The ceiling was a large radiant flower, and the more one looked at it, the deeper its calyx appeared to grow. The prince stepped to the window, and looked through one of the panes, on which was depicted Jacob's dream. The ladder seemed to reach to the real sky, and the angels seemed to be flapping their wings. The fairy smiled at his astonished look, and explained that time had engraved its events on each pane, but they were not merely lifeless images, for the leaves rustled, and the persons went and came as in a looking-glass. He then looked through other panes, where he saw depicted the events of ancient history. For all that had happened in the world lived and moved upon these panes; time only could have engraved so cunning a masterpiece.
The fairy then led him into a lofty, noble hall, with transparent walls. Here were a number of portraits, each of which seemed more beautiful than the other. There were millions of happy faces whose laughing and singing seemed to melt into one harmonious whole; those above were so small that they appeared less than the smallest rosebud when represented on paper by a mere dot. In the midst of the hall stood a large tree with luxuriant drooping branches. Golden apples, both great and small, hung like china oranges amid the green leaves. From each leaf fell a sparkling red dewdrop, as if the tree were shedding tears of blood.
“We will now get into the boat,” said the fairy, “and enjoy the coolness of the water. The boat rocks, but does not stir from the spot, while all the countries of the earth glide past us.” And it was wonderful to behold how the whole coast moved. First came the lofty snow-capped Alps, overhung with clouds and overgrown with fir-trees. The horn was sounding its melancholy notes, while the shepherd was carolling in the vale. Then banana-trees flung their drooping branches over the boat; coal-black swans swam on the water, and flowers and animals of the strangest description might be seen on the shore. This was New Holland, the fifth part of the world, that glided past, with a view of the blue mountains. One could hear the hymns of the priests and see the savages dancing to the sound of drums and trumpets made of bones. Egypt's pyramids reaching to the clouds, overturned columns and sphinxes, half buried in the sand, followed in their turn. The aurora borealis next shined upon the extinguished volcanoes of the north. These were fireworks that nobody could have imitated! The prince was delighted; and he saw a hundred times more than what we have mentioned.
“Can I remain here for ever?” asked he.
“That depends on yourself,” replied the fairy. “If you do not long for what is forbidden, you may stay here for ever.”
“I will not touch the apple on the Tree of Knowledge,” said the prince; “here are thousands equally fine.”
“Examine your own heart, and if you do not feel sufficient strength, return with the East Wind who brought you hither. He is now about to fly back, and will not appear again in this place for the next hundred years. The time would seem to you here to be only a hundred hours, but even that is a long span for temptation and sin. Every evening, on leaving you, I shall be obliged to say: ‘Come with me!’ I shall make a sign with my hand, yet you must stay away. If once you followed, your longing would increase at every step. You would then enter the hall where grows the Tree of Knowledge. I sleep beneath its perfumed, drooping branches. You would bend over me, and I should be forced to smile. But if you pressed a kiss on my lips, then would the garden sink into the earth and be lost for you. The sharp winds of the desert would howl around you, the cold rain would trickle over your head, and sorrow and distress would fall to your lot.”
“I will remain here,” said the prince. And the East Wind kissed his forehead, saying, “Be firm, and then we shall meet again in a hundred years. Farewell! farewell!” And the East Wind spread his large wings, and they shined like the lightning in harvest time, or like the northern lights in a cold winter.
“Farewell! farewell!” sounded from the flowers and the trees. Storks and pelicans flew in long rows, like streaming ribbons, to accompany him to the boundaries of the garden.
“We will now begin our dances,” said the fairy. “At the close, when I’m dancing with you, and just as the sun is sinking, you will see me make a sign, and you will hear me say, ‘Come with me’ But do not do it. For a hundred years shall I be obliged to repeat the same thing every evening; and each time when it is over will you gain fresh strength. In the end you’ll cease to think about it. This evening will be the first time—and now you are warned.”
The fairy then led him into a large room made of white transparent lilies. The yellow stamina in each flower pictured a little golden harp that yielded a sweet music partaking of the combined sounds of stringed instruments and the tones of the flute. Lovely girls with slender, aerial figures, and dressed in lightest gauze, floated through the mazes of the dance, and sang of the delights of living and being immortal, and blooming for ever in the Garden of the World.
The sun now set. The whole sky was one mass of gold that imparted the tints of the richest roses to the lilies; and the prince drank of the sparkling wine handed to him by the young maidens, and felt a bliss he had never before experienced. He saw the background of the ball-room now opening, and the Tree of Knowledge stood before him in such streams of light that his eyes were dazzled. The singing that rang in his ears was soft and lovely as his mother’s voice, and it seemed as if she sang, “My child! my beloved child!”
STORKS AND PELICANS FLEW IN LONG ROWS.
THE FAIRY CRIED, “COME WITH ME! COME WITH ME!”
The fairy then made him a sign with her eyes, and cried most sweetly: “Come with me! Come with me!” And he rushed towards her, forgetting his promise, though it was but the first evening, and she continued to beckon to him and to smile. The spicy perfumes around grew yet more intoxicating; the harps sounded sweeter; and it was as if the millions of smiling faces in the room, where grew the tree, nodded and sang: “We must know everything! Man is the lord of the earth!” And there were no more tears of blood dropping down from the leaves of the Tree of Knowledge; but he thought he saw red sparkling stars instead.
“Come with me! come with me!” said the thrilling tones; and at each step the prince’s cheeks glowed more intensely, and his blood rushed more wildly.
“I must!” said he; “it is no sin, and cannot be one! Why not follow when beauty calls? I will see her asleep; and provided I do not Kiss her, there will be no harm done—and kiss I will not, for I have strength to resist, and a firm will.”
And the fairy cast aside her dazzling attire, bent back the boughs, and in another moment was completely concealed.
“I have not yet sinned,” said the prince, “and do not intend to sin!” And then he pushed the boughs aside; there she lay already asleep, and lovely as only the fairy of the Garden of the World is privileged to be. She smiled in her dreams; yet as he bent over her, he saw tears trembling between her eyelashes.
“And do you weep for me?” whispered he. “Oh, weep not, most admirable of women! I 
HE PUSHED THE
BOUGHS ASIDE.now begin to understand the happiness to be found in this place. It penetrates into my blood, and I feel the joys of the blessed in this my earthly form! Though it were ever after eternally dark for me, one moment like this is happiness enough!” And he kissed the tears in her eyes, and his mouth pressed her lips.
Then came a thunder-clap, so loud and so tremendous as never was heard before. Down everything fell to ruins—the beautiful fairy, the blooming garden, all sank deeper and deeper still. The prince saw the garden sinking into the dark abyss below, and it soon only shone like a little star in the distance. He turned as cold as death, and closed his eyes, and lay senseless.
The cold rain fell on his face, and the sharp wind blew over his head. He then returned to consciousness. “What have I done?” sighed he. “Alas! I have sinned, and the Island of Happiness has sunk down into the earth!” And he opened his eyes and saw a distant star like that of the sinking garden; but it was the morning star in the sky.
He got up and found himself in the large forest close to the Cavern of the Winds. The mother of the Winds sat by him, and looked angry, and raised her arm aloft.
“The very first evening,” said she. “I thought it would be so! If you were my son, you should be put into the bag presently.”
“Into it he shall go, sure enough!” said Death. He was a stalwart man with a scythe in his hand, and large black wings. “In his coffin shall he be laid, but not yet. I'll only mark him now, and allow him to wander about the world yet awhile, to expiate his sins and to grow better. But I shall come at last. When he least expects it, I shall put him into the black bag, place it on my head, and fly up to the stars. There, too, blooms a lovely garden, and if he be good and pious, he will be allowed to enter it; but should his thoughts be wicked, and his heart still full of sin, then will he sink in his coffin yet lower than he saw the Garden of the World sink down; and it will be only once in every thousand years that I shall go and fetch him, when he will either be condemned to sink still deeper, or be borne aloft to the beaming stars above.”
