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The Flying Trunk
The Flying Trunk
[See The Flying Trunk: Away flew the trunk with him.]
There was once a merchant, who was so rich that he could pave the whole
street with gold, and almost have enough left for a little lane. But he did
not do that; he knew how to employ his money differently. When he spent a
shilling he got back a crown, such a clever merchant was he; and this
continued till he died.
His son now got all this money; and he lived merrily, going to the
masquerade every evening, making kites out of dollar notes, and playing at
ducks and drakes on the sea-coast with gold pieces instead of pebbles. In
this way the money might soon be spent, and indeed it was so. At last he had
no more than four shillings left, and no clothes to wear but a pair of
slippers and an old dressing-gown. Now his friends did not trouble
themselves any more about him, as they could not walk with him in the street,
but one of them, who was good-natured, sent him an old trunk, with the
remark, "Pack up!" Yes, that was all very well, but he had nothing to pack,
therefore he seated himself in the trunk.
That was a wonderful trunk. So soon as any one pressed the lock the trunk
could fly. He pressed it, and whirr! away flew the trunk with him through the
chimney and over the clouds, farther and farther away. But as often as the
bottom of the trunk cracked a little he was in great fear lest it might go to
pieces, and then he would have flung a fine somersault! In that way he came to
the land of the Turks. He did the trunk in a wood under some dry leaves, and
then went into the town. He could do that very well, for among the Turks all
the people went about dressed like himself in dressing-gown and slippers.
Then he met a nurse with a little child.
"Here, you Turkish nurse," he began, "what kind of a great castle is that
close by the town, in which the windows are so high up?"
"There dwells the Sultan`s daughter," replied she. "It is prophesied that
she will be very unhappy respecting a lover; and therefore nobody may go near
her, unless the Sultan and Sultana are there too."
"Thank you! said the Merchant`s Son; and he went out into the forest,
seated himself in his trunk, flew on the roof, and crept through the window
into the Princess` room.
She was lying asleep on the sofa, and she was so beautiful that the
Merchant`s Son was compelled to kiss her. Then she awoke, and was startled
very much; but he said he was a Turkish angel who had come down to her through
the air, and that pleased her.
They sat down side by side, and he told her stories about her eyes; and
he told her they were the most glorious dark lakes, and that thoughts were
swimming about in them like mermaids: And he told her about her forehead; that
it was a snowy mountain with the most splendid halls and pictures. And he told
her about the stork who brings the lovely little children.
Yes, those were fine histories! Then he asked the Princess if she would
marry him, and she said "Yes," directly.
"But you must come here on Saturday," said she. "Then the Sultan and
Sultana will be here to tea. They will be very proud that I am to marry a
Turkish angel. But take care that you know a very pretty story, for both my
parents are very fond indeed of stories. My mother likes them high-flown and
moral, but my father likes them merry, so that one can laugh."
"Yes, I shall bring no marriage gift but a story," said he; and so they
parted. But the Princess gave him a sabre, the sheath embroidered with gold
pieces, and that was very useful to him.
Now he flew away, bought a new dressing-gown, and sat in the forest and
made up a story; it was to be ready by Saturday, and that was not an easy
thing.
By the time he had finished it Saturday had come. The Sultan and his wife
and all the court were at the Princess` to tea. He was received very
graciously.
"Will you relate us a story?" said the Sultana; "one that is deep and
edifying."
"Yes, but one that we can laugh at," said the Sultan.
"Certainly," he replied; and so began. And now listen well.
"There was once a bundle of Matches, and these Matches were particularly
proud of their high descent. Their genealogical tree, that is to say, the
great fir-tree of which each of them was a little splinter, had been a great
old tree out in the forest. The Matches now lay between a Tinder-box and an
old Iron Pot; and they were telling about the days of their youth. `Yes, when
we were upon the green boughs,` they said, `then we really were upon the green
boughs! Every morning and evening there was diamond tea for us, - I mean dew;
we had sunshine all day long whenever the sun shone, and all the little birds
had to tell stories. We could see very well that we were rich, for the other
trees were only dressed out in summer, while our family had the means to wear
green dresses in the winter as well. But then the wood-cutter came, like a
great revolution, and our family was broken up. The head of the family got an
appointment as mainmast in a first-rate ship, which could sail round the
world if necessary; the other branches went to other places, and now we have
the office of kindling a light for the vulgar herd. That`s how we grand people
came to be in the kitchen,`
"`My fate was of different kind,` said the Iron Pot, which stood next to
the Matches. `From the beginning, ever since I came into the world, there has
been a great deal of scouring and cooking done in me. I look after the
practical part, and am the first here in the house. My only pleasure is to sit
in my place after dinner, very clean and neat, and to carry on a sensible
conversation with my comrades. But except the Water-pot, which is sometimes
taken down into the court-yard, we always live within our four walls. Our
only news-monger is the Market Basket; but he speaks very uneasily about the
government and the people. Yes, the other day there was an old pot that fell
down, from fright, and burst. He`s liberal, I can tell you! - `Now you`re
talking too much,` the Tinder-box interrupted, and the steel struck against
the flint, so that sparks flew out. `Shall we not have a merry evening?`
"`Yes, let us talk about who is the grandest,` said the Matches.
"`No, I don`t like to talk about myself,` retorted the Pot, `Let us get
up an evening entertainment. I will begin. I will tell a story from real life,
something that every one has experienced, so that we can easily imagine the
situation, and take pleasure in it. On the Baltic, by the Danish shore` -
"`That`s a pretty beginning!` cried all the Plates. `That will be a story
we shall like.`
"`Yes, it happened to me in my youth, when I lived in a family where the
furniture was polished, the floors scoured, and new curtains were put up every
fortnight.`
"`What an interesting way you have of telling a story!` said the Carpet
Broom. `One can tell directly that a man is speaking who has been in woman`s
society. There`s something pure runs through it.`
"And the Pot went on telling his story, and the end was as good as the
beginning.
"All the Plates rattled with joy, and the Carpet Broom brought some green
parsley out of the dust-hole, and put it like a wreath on the Pot, for he
knew that it would vex the others. "If I crown him to-day,` it thought, `he
will crown me to-morrow.`
"`Now I`ll dance,` said the Fire Tongs; and they danced. Preserve us! how
that implement could lift up one leg! The old chaircushion burst to see it.
`Shall I be crowned too?` thought the Tongs; and indeed a wreath was awarded.
"`They`re only common people, after all!` thought the Matches.
"Now the Tea-urn was to sing; but she said she had taken cold, and
could not sing unless she felt boiling within. But that was only affectation:
she did not want to sing, except when she was in the parlor with the grand
people.
"In the window sat an old Quill Pen, with which the maid generally wrote:
there was nothing remarkable about this pen, except that it had been dipped
too deep into the ink, but she was proud of that. `If the Tea-urn won`t
sing,` she said, `she may leave it alone. Outside hangs a nightingale in a
cage, and he can sing. He hasn`t had any education, but this evening we`ll say
nothing about that.`
"`I think it very wrong,` said the Tea-kettle - he was the kitchen
singer, and half-brother to the Tea-urn - `that that rich and foreign bird
should be listened to! Is that patriotic? Let the Market Basket decide.`
"`I am vexed,` said the Market Basket. `No one can imagine how much I am
secretly vexed. Is that a proper way of spending the evening? Would it not be
more sensible to put the house in order? Let each one go to his own place, and
I will arrange the whole game. That would be quite another thing.`
"`Yes, let us make a disturbance,` cried they all. Then the door opened,
and the maid came in, and they all stood still; not one stirred. But there was
not one pot among them who did not know what he could do, and how grand he
was. `Yes, if I had liked,` each one thought, `it might have been a very merry
evening.`
"The servant until took the Matches and lighted the fire with them.
Mercy! how they sputtered and burst out into flame! `Now every one can see,`
thought they, `that we are the first. How we shine! what a light! - and they
burned out."
"That was a capital story," said the Sultana. "I feel myself quite
carried away to the kitchen, to the Matches. Yes, now thou shalt marry our
daughter."
"Yes, certainly," said the Sultan, "thou shalt marry our daughter on
Monday."
And they called him thou, because he was to belong to the family.
The wedding was decided on, and on the evening before it the whole city
was illuminated. Biscuits and cakes were thrown among the people, the street
boys stood on their toes, called out "Hurrah!" and whistled on their fingers.
It was uncommonly splendid.
"Yes, I shall have to give something as a treat," thought the Merchant`s
Son. So he bought rockets and crackers, and every imaginable sort of fire -
work, put them all into his trunk, and flew up into the air.
"Crack!" how they went, and how they went off! All the Turks hopped up
with such a start that their slippers flew about their ears; such a meteor
they had never yet seen. Now they could understand that it must be a Turkish
angel who was going to marry the Princess.
What stories people tell! Every one whom he asked about it had seen it in
a separate way; but one and all thought it fine.
"I saw the Turkish angel himself," said one. "He had eyes like glowing
stars, and a beard like foaming water."
"He flew up in a fiery mantle," said another; "the most lovely little
cherub peeped forth from among the folds."
Yes, they were wonderful things that he heard; and on the following day
he was to be married.
Now he went back to the forest to rest himself in his trunk. But what had
become of that? A spark from the fire-works had set fire to it, and the
trunk was burned to ashes. He could not fly any more, and could not get to his
bride.
She stood all day on the roof waiting; and most likely she is waiting
still. But he wanders through the world, telling fairy tales; but they are not
so merry as that one he told about the Matches.
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