{"id":2327,"date":"2012-03-23T10:48:08","date_gmt":"2012-03-23T09:48:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.hcandersen-homepage.dk\/?page_id=2327"},"modified":"2013-09-26T16:50:40","modified_gmt":"2013-09-26T14:50:40","slug":"2327-2","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.hcandersen-homepage.dk\/?page_id=2327","title":{"rendered":"The Little Elder-Tree Mother"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Little Elder-Tree Mother –\u00a0Illustration<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

By Hans Christian Andersen (1850)<\/strong><\/p>\n

There was once a little boy who had caught cold; he had gone out and got wet feet. Nobody had the least idea how it had happened; the weather was quite dry. His mother undressed him, put him to bed, and ordered the teapot to be brought in, that she might make him a good cup of tea from the elder-tree blossoms, which is so warming. At the same time, the kind-hearted old man who lived by himself in the upper storey of the house came in; he led a lonely life, for he had no wife and children; but he loved the children of others very much, and he could tell so many fairy tales and stories, that it was a pleasure to hear him.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, drink your tea,\u201d said the mother; \u201cperhaps you will hear a story.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, if I only knew a fresh one,\u201d said the old man, and nodded smilingly. \u201cBut how did the little fellow get his wet feet?\u201d he then asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat,\u201d replied the mother, \u201cnobody can understand.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you tell me a story?\u201d asked the boy.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, if you can tell me as nearly as possible how deep is the gutter in the little street where you go to school.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust half as high as my top-boots,\u201d replied the boy; \u201cbut then I must stand in the deepest holes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere, now we know where you got your wet feet,\u201d said the old man. \u201cI ought to tell you a story, but the worst of it is, I do not know any more.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can make one up,\u201d said the little boy. \u201cMother says you can tell a fairy tale about anything you look at or touch.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat is all very well, but such tales or stories are worth nothing! No, the right ones come by themselves and knock at my forehead saying: \u2018Here I am.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWill not one knock soon?\u201d asked the boy; and the mother smiled while she put elder-tree blossoms into the teapot and poured boiling water over them. \u201cPray, tell me a story.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, if stories came by themselves; they are so proud, they only come when they please.\u2014But wait,\u201d he said suddenly, \u201cthere is one. Look at the teapot; there is a story in it now.\u201d<\/p>\n

And the little boy looked at the teapot; the lid rose up gradually, the elder-tree blossoms sprang forth one by one, fresh and white; long boughs came forth; even out of the spout they grew up in all directions, and formed a bush\u2014nay, a large elder tree, which stretched its branches up to the bed and pushed the curtains aside; and there were so many blossoms and such a sweet fragrance! In the midst of the tree sat a kindly-looking old woman with a strange dress; it was as green as the leaves, and trimmed with large white blossoms, so that it was difficult to say whether it was real cloth, or the leaves and blossoms of the elder-tree.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is this woman\u2019s name?\u201d asked the little boy.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, the Romans and Greeks used to call her a Dryad,\u201d said the old man; \u201cbut we do not understand that. Out in the sailors\u2019 quarter they give her a better name; there she is called elder-tree mother. Now, you must attentively listen to her and look at the beautiful elder-tree.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust such a large tree, covered with flowers, stands out there; it grew in the corner of an humble little yard; under this tree sat two old people one afternoon in the beautiful sunshine. He was an old, old sailor, and she his old wife; they had already great-grandchildren, and were soon to celebrate their golden wedding, but they could not remember the date, and the elder-tree mother was sitting in the tree and looked as pleased as this one here. \u2018I know very well when the golden wedding is to take place,\u2019 she said; but they did not hear it\u2014they were talking of bygone days.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018Well, do you remember?\u2019 said the old sailor, \u2018when we were quite small and used to run about and play\u2014it was in the very same yard where we now are\u2014we used to put little branches into the ground and make a garden.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018Yes,\u2019 said the old woman, \u2018I remember it very well; we used to water the branches, and one of them, an elder-tree branch, took root, and grew and became the large tree under which we are now sitting as old people.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018Certainly, you are right,\u2019 he said; \u2018and in yonder corner stood a large water-tub; there I used to sail my boat, which I had cut out myself\u2014it sailed so well; but soon I had to sail somewhere else.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018But first we went to school to learn something,\u2019 she said, \u2018and then we were confirmed; we both wept on that day, but in the afternoon we went out hand in hand, and ascended the high round tower and looked out into the wide world right over Copenhagen and the sea; then we walked to Fredericksburg, where the king and the queen were sailing about in their magnificent boat on the canals.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018But soon I had to sail about somewhere else, and for many years I was travelling about far away from home.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018And I often cried about you, for I was afraid lest you were drowned and lying at the bottom of the sea. Many a time I got up in the night and looked if the weathercock had turned; it turned often, but you did not return. I remember one day distinctly: the rain was pouring down in torrents; the dust-man had come to the house where I was in service; I went down with the dust-bin and stood for a moment in the doorway, and looked at the dreadful weather. Then the postman gave me a letter; it was from you. Heavens! how that letter had travelled about. I tore it open and read it; I cried and laughed at the same time, and was so happy! Therein was written that you were staying in the hot countries, where the coffee grows. These must be marvellous countries. You said a great deal about them, and I read all while the rain was pouring down and I was standing there with the dust-bin. Then suddenly some one put his arm round my waist\u2014\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018Yes, and you gave him a hearty smack on the cheek,\u2019 said the old man.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018I did not know that it was you\u2014you had come as quickly as your letter; and you looked so handsome, and so you do still. You had a large yellow silk handkerchief in your pocket and a shining hat on. You looked so well, and the weather in the street was horrible!\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018Then we married,\u2019 he said. \u2018Do you remember how we got our first boy, and then Mary, Niels, Peter, John, and Christian?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Oh yes; and now they have all grown up, and have become useful members of society, whom everybody cares for.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018And their children have had children again,\u2019 said the old sailor. \u2018Yes, these are children\u2019s children, and they are strong and healthy. If I am not mistaken, our wedding took place at this season of the year.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018Yes, to-day is your golden wedding-day,\u2019 said the little elder-tree mother, stretching her head down between the two old people, who thought that she was their neighbour who was nodding to them; they looked at each other and clasped hands. Soon afterwards the children and grandchildren came, for they knew very well that it was the golden wedding-day; they had already wished them joy and happiness in the morning, but the old people had forgotten it, although they remembered things so well that had passed many, many years ago. The elder-tree smelt strongly, and the setting sun illuminated the faces of the two old people, so that they looked quite rosy; the youngest of the grandchildren danced round them, and cried merrily that there would be a feast in the evening, for they were to have hot potatoes; and the elder mother nodded in the tree and cried \u2018Hooray\u2019 with the others.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut that was no fairy tale,\u201d said the little boy who had listened to it.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou will presently understand it,\u201d said the old man who told the story. \u201cLet us ask little elder-tree mother about it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was no fairy tale,\u201d said the little elder-tree mother; \u201cbut now it comes! Real life furnishes us with subjects for the most wonderful fairy tales; for otherwise my beautiful elder-bush could not have grown forth out of the teapot.\u201d<\/p>\n

And then she took the little boy out of bed and placed him on her bosom; the elder branches, full of blossoms, closed over them; it was as if they sat in a thick leafy bower which flew with them through the air; it was beautiful beyond all description. The little elder-tree mother had suddenly become a charming young girl, but her dress was still of the same green material, covered with white blossoms, as the elder-tree mother had worn; she had a real elder blossom on her bosom, and a wreath of the same flowers was wound round her curly golden hair; her eyes were so large and so blue that it was wonderful to look at them. She and the boy kissed each other, and then they were of the same age and felt the same joys. They walked hand in hand out of the bower, and now stood at home in a beautiful flower garden. Near the green lawn the father\u2019s walking-stick was tied to a post. There was life in this stick for the little ones, for as soon as they seated themselves upon it the polished knob turned into a neighing horse\u2019s head, a long black mane was fluttering in the wind, and four strong slender legs grew out. The animal was fiery and spirited; they galloped round the lawn. \u201cHooray! now we shall ride far away, many miles!\u201d said the boy; \u201cwe shall ride to the nobleman\u2019s estate where we were last year.\u201d And they rode round the lawn again, and the little girl, who, as we know, was no other than the little elder-tree mother, continually cried, \u201cNow we are in the country! Do you see the farmhouse there, with the large baking stove, which projects like a gigantic egg out of the wall into the road? The elder-tree spreads its branches over it, and the cock struts about and scratches for the hens. Look how proud he is! Now we are near the church; it stands on a high hill, under the spreading oak trees; one of them is half dead! Now we are at the smithy, where the fire roars and the half-naked men beat with their hammers so that the sparks fly far and wide. Let\u2019s be off to the beautiful farm!\u201d And they passed by everything the little girl, who was sitting behind on the stick, described, and the boy saw it, and yet they only went round the lawn. Then they played in a side-walk, and marked out a little garden on the ground; she took elder-blossoms out of her hair and planted them, and they grew exactly like those the old people planted when they were children, as we have heard before. They walked about hand in hand, just as the old couple had done when they were little, but they did not go to the round tower nor to the Fredericksburg garden. No; the little girl seized the boy round the waist, and then they flew far into the country. It was spring and it became summer, it was autumn and it became winter, and thousands of pictures reflected themselves in the boy\u2019s eyes and heart, and the little girl always sang again, \u201cYou will never forget that!\u201d And during their whole flight the elder-tree smelt so sweetly; he noticed the roses and the fresh beeches, but the elder-tree smelt much stronger, for the flowers were fixed on the little girl\u2019s bosom, against which the boy often rested his head during the flight.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is beautiful here in spring,\u201d said the little girl, and they were again in the green beechwood, where the thyme breathed forth sweet fragrance at their feet, and the pink anemones looked lovely in the green moss. \u201cOh! that it were always spring in the fragrant beechwood!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHere it is splendid in summer!\u201d she said, and they passed by old castles of the age of chivalry. The high walls and indented battlements were reflected in the water of the ditches, on which swans were swimming and peering into the old shady avenues. The corn waved in the field like a yellow sea. Red and yellow flowers grew in the ditches, wild hops and convolvuli in full bloom in the hedges. In the evening the moon rose, large and round, and the hayricks in the meadows smelt sweetly. \u201cOne can never forget it!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHere it is beautiful in autumn!\u201d said the little girl, and the atmosphere seemed twice as high and blue, while the wood shone with crimson, green, and gold. The hounds were running off, flocks of wild fowl flew screaming over the barrows, while the bramble bushes twined round the old stones. The dark-blue sea was covered with white-sailed ships, and in the barns sat old women, girls, and children picking hops into a large tub; the young ones sang songs, and the old people told fairy tales about goblins and sorcerers. It could not be more pleasant anywhere.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere it\u2019s agreeable in winter!\u201d said the little girl, and all the trees were covered with hoar-frost, so that they looked like white coral. The snow creaked under one\u2019s feet, as if one had new boots on. One shooting star after another traversed the sky. In the room the Christmas tree was lit, and there were song and merriment. In the peasant\u2019s cottage the violin sounded, and games were played for apple quarters; even the poorest child said, \u201cIt is beautiful in winter!\u201d<\/p>\n

And indeed it was beautiful! And the little girl showed everything to the boy, and the elder-tree continued to breathe forth sweet perfume, while the red flag with the white cross was streaming in the wind; it was the flag under which the old sailor had served. The boy became a youth; he was to go out into the wide world, far away to the countries where the coffee grows. But at parting the little girl took an elder-blossom from her breast and gave it to him as a keepsake. He placed it in his prayer-book, and when he opened it in distant lands it was always at the place where the flower of remembrance was lying; and the more he looked at it the fresher it became, so that he could almost smell the fragrance of the woods at home. He distinctly saw the little girl, with her bright blue eyes, peeping out from behind the petals, and heard her whispering, \u201cHere it is beautiful in spring, in summer, in autumn, and in winter,\u201d and hundreds of pictures passed through his mind.<\/p>\n

Thus many years rolled by. He had now become an old man, and was sitting, with his old wife, under an elder-tree in full bloom. They held each other by the hand exactly as the great-grandfather and the great-grandmother had done outside, and, like them, they talked about bygone days and of their golden wedding. The little girl with the blue eyes and elder-blossoms in her hair was sitting high up in the tree, and nodded to them, saying, \u201cTo-day is the golden wedding!\u201d And then she took two flowers out of her wreath and kissed them. They glittered at first like silver, then like gold, and when she placed them on the heads of the old people each flower became a golden crown. There they both sat like a king and queen under the sweet-smelling tree, which looked exactly like an elder-tree, and he told his wife the story of the elder-tree mother as it had been told him when he was a little boy. They were both of opinion that the story contained many points like their own, and these similarities they liked best.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, so it is,\u201d said the little girl in the tree. \u201cSome call me Little Elder-tree Mother; others a Dryad; but my real name is \u2018Remembrance.\u2019 It is I who sit in the tree which grows and grows. I can remember things and tell stories! But let\u2019s see if you have still got your flower.\u201d<\/p>\n

And the old man opened his prayer-book; the elder-blossom was still in it, and as fresh as if it had only just been put in. Remembrance nodded, and the two old people, with the golden crowns on their heads, sat in the glowing evening sun. They closed their eyes and\u2014and\u2014<\/p>\n

Well, now the story is ended! The little boy in bed did not know whether he had dreamt it or heard it told; the teapot stood on the table, but no elder-tree was growing out of it, and the old man who had told the story was on the point of leaving the room, and he did go out.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow beautiful it was!\u201d said the little boy. \u201cMother, I have been to warm countries!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI believe you,\u201d said the mother; \u201cif one takes two cups of hot elder-tea it is quite natural that one gets into warm countries!\u201d And she covered him up well, so that he might not take cold. \u201cYou have slept soundly while I was arguing with the old man whether it was a story or a fairy tale!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what has become of the little elder-tree mother?\u201d asked the boy.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe is in the teapot,\u201d said the mother; \u201cand there she may remain.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0Indeks over H.C. Andersens eventyr \u2014\u00a0Index of Hans Christian Andersen Fairy tales<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Little Elder-Tree Mother –\u00a0Illustration By Hans Christian Andersen (1850) There was once a little boy who had caught cold; he had gone out and got wet feet. Nobody had the least idea how it had happened; the weather was quite dry. His mother undressed him, put him to bed, and ordered the teapot to … L\u00e6s mere The Little Elder-Tree Mother<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"class_list":["post-2327","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hcandersen-homepage.dk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2327","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hcandersen-homepage.dk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hcandersen-homepage.dk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hcandersen-homepage.dk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hcandersen-homepage.dk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2327"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.hcandersen-homepage.dk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2327\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":53509,"href":"https:\/\/www.hcandersen-homepage.dk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2327\/revisions\/53509"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hcandersen-homepage.dk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2327"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}