Andersenove pravljice · English

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Vir: Andersenove pravljice
Poglavje: 39
Tagi: 16
Izvirnik: Dansk

Skrij izvirnik Odpri v bralniku

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High up in the thin, clear air, an angel was flying with a flower from the garden of Heaven, and as he pressed a kiss upon the flower, a tiny leaf broke off and fell to the muddy earth in the midst of the forest. At once it took root and sent up shoots among the other plants.

"What a queer cutting that is!" they said, and none would acknowledge it as one of their own, neither thistle nor stinging nettle. "It must be some sort of garden plant!" they said with a laugh, and so it became a laughingstock for being a garden plant. But it grew and grew as no other plant did, sending its branches far and wide in long, trailing tendrils.

"Where do you think you're going?" said the tall thistles, which have a thorn on every leaf. "You're sprawling all over the place! There's no sense in it! We can't stand here holding you up!"

Winter came, and snow lay over the plant, but from it the covering of snow took on a radiance, as though sunlight were streaming through it from below. In spring there stood a flowering plant more beautiful than any other in the forest.

Then came the professor of botany, who had papers to prove that he was what he was. He looked at the plant and bit into it, but it was not in his botany book; he could not possibly discover which class it belonged to.

"It's an aberrant variety!" he said. "I don't know it; it has no place in the system!" "No place in the system!" said the thistles and nettles. The great trees all around heard what was said, and they too saw that it was not a tree of their kind, but they said nothing, either good or ill, and that is always the safest course when one is stupid.

Then a poor, innocent girl came through the forest. Her heart was pure, her understanding made great by faith; all she had inherited in this world was an old Bible, but from its pages the voice of God spoke to her: If people wish you harm, remember the story of Joseph: "They intended evil in their hearts, but God intended to turn it to good." If you suffer injustice, are misunderstood and mocked, remember him, the purest and best, whom they reviled and nailed to the wood of the cross, where he prayed, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!"

She stopped before the wondrous plant, whose green leaves gave off so sweet and refreshing a fragrance, and whose flowers in the bright sunshine seemed a whole display of coloured fireworks. From each there came a sound, as though it held the deep well of melody that cannot be drained in a thousand years. With pious devotion she gazed upon all this glory of God. She bent down one of the branches to look more closely at the flower and breathe in its fragrance, and a light shone in her soul, bringing such comfort to her heart. Gladly would she have had a flower of her own, but she could not bring herself to break one off, for it would soon wither in her keeping. She took only a single green leaf, carried it home, and laid it in her Bible, where it remained fresh, always fresh and unwithered.

Hidden between the pages of the Bible it lay; and with the Bible it was placed beneath the young girl's head when, some weeks later, she lay in her coffin, the holy solemnity of death upon her devout face, as though the earthly dust bore the imprint of her standing now before her God.

But out in the forest the wondrous plant blossomed. Soon it looked like a tree, and all the birds of passage came and bowed before it, the swallow and the stork especially.

"Foreign affectation!" said the thistle and the burdock. "We could never behave like that here at home!" And the black forest slugs spat upon the tree.

Then came the swineherd, pulling up thistles and trailing plants to burn the greenery to ash. Into his bundle went the whole wondrous tree, torn up by all its roots. "This shall be of some use too!" he said, and so it was done.

Now for more than a year and a day the king of the country had suffered from the deepest melancholy. He was diligent and hardworking, but it did no good; profound writings were read aloud to him, and the very lightest that could be found were read to him too, but it did no good. Then word came from one of the wisest men in the world, whom they had consulted, and he let them know that there was a sure remedy to comfort and cure the sufferer. "In the forest of the king's own realm there grows a plant of heavenly origin. It looks thus and thus; there can be no mistaking it." And with this came a drawing of the plant: it was easy to recognize! "It is green in winter and summer, so take a fresh leaf from it every evening and lay it on the king's forehead. Then light will dawn upon his thoughts, and a lovely dream in the night will strengthen him for the coming day!"

That was plain enough, and all the doctors and the professor of botany went out into the forest. But where was the plant? "I must have taken it along in my bundle!" said the swineherd. "It was burnt to ash long ago, but I knew no better!"

"Knew no better!" they all said. "Ignorance! Ignorance! How great you are!" And those were words the swineherd ought to take to heart—he and no one else, they thought.

Not a leaf was to be found; the only one lay in the dead girl's coffin, and no one knew of it. And the king himself, in his dejection, came out into the forest to the spot. "Here stood the tree!" he said. "This is a holy place!" And the ground there was enclosed by a golden railing, and a sentry was posted, both night and day.

The professor of botany wrote a treatise on the heavenly plant, and for this he was showered with gold, which gave him great pleasure. The gilding suited both him and his family, and that is the happiest part of the whole story, for the plant was gone and the king was downcast and sorrowful. "But he was that before!" said the sentry.

Izvirnik

Eventyr af Hans Christian Andersen

Højt oppe i den tynde, klare luft fløj en engel med en blomst fra Himmelens have, og idet han trykkede et kys på blomsten gik der et lillebitte blad af og det faldt ned på den dyndede jord midt i skoven, og straks fæstede det rod og satte skud midt imellem de andre urter.

"Det er en løjerlig stikling den!" sagde de, og ingen ville kende sig ved den, hverken tidsel eller brændenælde.

"Det er nok en slags havevækst!" sagde de og grinede, og så var den til nar, som havevækst; men den voksede og voksede, som ingen anden, og skød sine grene i lange ranker vidt omkring.

"Hvor skal du hen!" sagde de høje tidsler, der har torn på hvert blad, "du løber noget avet om! det har ingensteds hjemme! vi kan ikke stå og bære dig!"

Vinteren kom, sneen lå hen over planten, men fra den fik snelaget en glans, som blev det nedenfra gennemstrømmet af sollys. I foråret stod der en blomstrende vækst, dejlig som ingen anden i skoven.

Så kom den botaniske professor, der havde skudsmålsbog på at han var hvad han var, han så på planten, han bed i den, men den stod ikke i hans plantelære; det var ham ikke muligt at finde ud, til hvilken klasse den hørte.

"Det er en afart!" sagde han. - "Jeg kender den ikke, den er ikke optaget i systemet!"

"Ikke optaget i systemet!" sagde tidsler og nælder.

De store træer rundt om hørte hvad der blev sagt, og også de så at det ikke var et træ af deres slags, men de sagde ikke noget, hverken ondt eller godt, og det er altid det sikreste når man er dum.

Da kom, gennem skoven, en fattig, uskyldig pige; hendes hjerte var rent, hendes forstand stor gennem troen, al hendes arvegods i denne verden var en gammel bibel, men fra dens blade talte til hende Guds stemme: Vil menneskene dig ilde, husk af historien om Josef: "De tænkte ondt i deres hjerte, men Gud tænkte at vende det til det bedre." Lider du uret miskendes og forhånes, husk ham den reneste og bedste, ham som de spottede og naglede til korsets træ, hvor han bad, "Fader, forlad dem, de ved ikke hvad de gør!"

Hun standsede sin gang foran den vidunderlige vækst, hvis grønne blade duftede så sødt og vederkvægende og hvor blomsterne i det klare solskin syntes et helt farvefyrværkeri; og det klang fra hver, som gemte den melodiernes dybe brønd der i årtusinder ikke tømmes. Med from andagt så hun på al den Guds herlighed; hun bøjede en af grenene ned for ret at beskue blomsten og indånde dens duft, og det lyste i hendes sind, det gjorde hendes hjerte så vel; gerne havde hun ejet en blomst, men hun nænnede ikke at bryde den af, den ville jo snart visne hos hende; og hun tog kun et eneste af de grønne blade, bar det hjem, lagde det i sin bibel og dér lå det friskt, altid friskt og uvisneligt.

Mellem biblens blade lå det gemt; med biblen blev det lagt under den unge piges hoved, da hun uger efter lå i sin ligkiste, med dødens hellige alvor på det fromme ansigt, som om det afprægede sig i det jordiske støv at hun nu stod for sin Gud.

Men ude i skoven blomstrede den vidunderlige vækst, den var snart som et træ at se til, og alle trækfugle kom og bøjede sig for den, svalen og storken især.

"Det er udenlandsk skaberi!" sagde tidsel og burre, "således kan vi her hjemme dog aldrig bære os ad!"

Og de sorte skovsnegle spyttede på træet.

Så kom svinehyrden, han ruskede tidsler og ranker op for at brænde aske af det grønne; hele det vidunderlige træ, rykket op med alle rødder, fik han med i bundtet; "det skal også gøre gavn!" sagde han og så var det gjort.

Men i mere end år og dag led landets konge af den dybeste tungsind; han var flittig og arbejdsom, det hjalp ikke; der blev læst dybsindige skrifter for ham og der blev læst de allerletteste man kunne finde, det hjalp ikke. - Da kom der bud fra en af verdens viseste mænd, man havde henvendt sig til ham og han lod dem vide, at der fandtes et sikkert middel til at husvale og helbrede den lidende. "I kongens eget rige gror der i skoven en vækst af himmelsk oprindelse, sådan og sådan ser den ud, man kan ikke tage fejl," og her fulgte en tegning med af væksten, den var let at kende! - "Den grønnes vinter og sommer, tag derfor, hver aften, et frisk blad deraf og læg det på kongens pande, da lysner det om hans tanke og en dejlig drøm til natten vil styrke ham for den kommende dag!"

Det var nu tydeligt nok, og alle doktorer og den botaniske professor gik ud i skoven. - Ja, men hvor var væksten.

"Jeg har nok fået den med i bundtet!" sagde svinehyrden, "den er gået i aske for længde siden, men jeg vidste ikke bedre!"

"Vidste ikke bedre!" sagde de alle sammen. "Uvidenhed! Uvidenhed! hvor er du stor!" og de ord kunne svinehyrden lægge sig på hjertet, han og ingen anden, mente de.

Ikke et blad var at finde, det eneste lå i den dødes kiste og derom vidste ingen.

Og kongen selv kom i sin mismod ud i skoven til stedet. "Her har træet stået!" sagde han, "det er et helligt sted!" -

Og jorden her blev indhegnet med et gyldent gitter og der kom skildvagt, og det både nat og dag.

Den botaniske professor skrev en afhandling om den himmelske plante, og derfor blev han forgyldt, og det var ham til stor fornøjelse; og forgyldningen klædte ham og hans familie, og det er det glædeligste ved hele den historie, thi væksten var borte og kongen var mismodig og bedrøvet - "men det var han også i forvejen!" sagde skildvagten.

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