The Elderbush

Once upon a time there was a little boy who had caught a cold. He had been out and gotten his feet wet, though nobody could understand how it had happened, because the weather was quite dry. So his mother undressed him, put him to bed, and had the teapot brought in to make him a good cup of elderflower tea. Just then the cheerful old man came in who lived all alone at the top of the house; he had neither wife nor children, but he liked children very much and knew so many fairy tales that it was delightful.

"Now drink your tea," said the boy's mother, "then perhaps you may hear a fairy tale."

"If only I had something new to tell," said the old man. "But how did the child get his feet wet?"

"That's exactly what nobody can figure out," said his mother.

"Am I going to hear a fairy tale?" asked the little boy.

"Yes, if you can tell me exactly—for I must know that first—how deep the gutter is in the little street opposite, the one you pass through on the way to school."

"Just up to the middle of my boot," said the child, "but then I have to go into the deep hole."

"Ah, ah! That's where the wet feet came from," said the old man. "I ought to tell you a story now, but I don't know any more."

"You can make one up in a moment," said the little boy. "My mother says that everything you look at can become a fairy tale, and that you can find a story in everything."

"Yes, but such tales and stories are no good. The real ones come by themselves; they tap on my forehead and say, 'Here we are.'"

"Won't there be a tap soon?" asked the little boy. And his mother laughed, put some elderflowers into the teapot, and poured boiling water over them.

"Do tell me something! Please do!"

"Yes, if a fairy tale would come by itself; but they are proud and haughty, and come only when they want to. Wait!" he said all of a sudden. "I have it! Listen carefully! There's one in the teapot!"

And the little boy looked at the teapot. The lid rose higher and higher, and the elderflowers came out so fresh and white and shot up long branches. They spread out from the spout on all sides and grew bigger and bigger; it was a splendid elderbush, a whole tree, and it reached right into the bed and pushed the curtains aside.

How it bloomed! And what a smell! In the middle of the bush sat a friendly-looking old woman in a very strange dress. It was completely green, like the leaves of the elder, and was trimmed with large white elderflowers, so that at first you couldn't tell whether it was fabric or real green leaves and flowers.

"What's that woman's name?" asked the little boy.

"The Greeks and Romans," said the old man, "called her a Dryad, but we don't understand that. The people who live in the New Booths have a much better name for her; they call her 'Old Nanny'—and she is the one you should pay attention to. Now listen, and look at the beautiful elderbush.

"Just such another large blooming elder tree stands near the New Booths. It grew there in the corner of a tiny, shabby courtyard; and under it sat one afternoon, in the most splendid sunshine, two old people: a very, very old seaman and his very, very old wife. They had great-grandchildren, and were soon going to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of their wedding; but they couldn't quite remember the date. And Old Nanny sat in the tree and looked as pleased as now. 'I know the date,' she said, but those below didn't hear her, because they were talking about old times.

"'Yes, can you remember when we were very little,' said the old seaman, 'and ran and played about? It was the very same courtyard where we are now, and we stuck slips in the ground and made a garden.'

"'I remember it well,' said the old woman. 'I remember it quite well. We watered the slips, and one of them was an elderbush. It took root, sent out green shoots, and grew up to be the big tree we are sitting under now.'

"'That's right,' he said. 'And there in the corner stood a water pail, where I used to sail my boats.'

"'True; but first we went to school to learn,' she said, 'and then we were confirmed. We both cried; but in the afternoon we went up the Round Tower and looked down on Copenhagen, and far, far away over the water; then we went to Frederiksberg, where the King and Queen were sailing about in their splendid barges.'

"'But I had a different kind of sailing later, and that for many a year; a long way off, on great voyages.'

"'Yes, many a time I cried for your sake,' she said. 'I thought you were dead and gone, lying in the deep waters. Many a night I got up to see if the wind hadn't changed; and changed it had, sure enough, but you never came.

I remember so well one day when the rain was pouring down in torrents, the street cleaners were outside the house where I worked, and I had come up with the dustpan and stood at the door—it was dreadful weather—when just as I stood there, the postman came and gave me a letter.

It was from you! What a journey that letter had made! I opened it right away and read it. I laughed and I wept. I was so happy. In it I read that you were in warm lands where the coffee tree grows. What a blessed land that must be!

You told so much, and I saw it all while the rain poured down and I stood there with the dustpan. At that very moment someone came and hugged me.'

"'Yes, but you gave him a good slap on the ear that made it tingle!'

"'But I didn't know it was you. You arrived as soon as your letter, and you were so handsome—you still are—and had a long yellow silk handkerchief around your neck and a brand new hat on; oh, you were so dashing! Good heavens, what weather it was, and what a state the street was in!'

"'And then we got married,' he said. 'Don't you remember? And then we had our first little boy, and then Mary, and Nicholas, and Peter, and Christian.'

"'Yes, and how they all grew up to be honest people, loved by everyone.'

"'And their children have children too,' said the old sailor. 'Yes, those are our grandchildren, full of strength and vigor. I think it was about this season that we had our wedding.'

"'Yes, this very day is the fiftieth anniversary of the wedding,' said Old Nanny, sticking her head between the two old people; they thought it was their neighbor who nodded to them. They looked at each other and held each other by the hand.

Soon after came their children and grandchildren, because they knew well enough that it was the day of the fiftieth anniversary, and had come with their congratulations that very morning; but the old people had forgotten it, even though they could remember everything that had happened many years ago.

And the elderbush gave off a strong fragrance in the sun, which was about to set and shone right into the old people's faces. They both looked so rosy-cheeked; and the youngest of the grandchildren danced around them and shouted, delighted, that there was going to be something very special that evening—they were all going to have hot potatoes.

And Old Nanny nodded in the bush and shouted 'hurrah!' with the rest."

"But that's no fairy tale," said the little boy, who had been listening to the story.

"The thing is, you have to understand it," said the storyteller. "Let's ask Old Nanny."

"That was no fairy tale, it's true," said Old Nanny, "but now it's coming. The most wonderful fairy tales grow out of what is real; if that weren't the case, you know, my magnificent elderbush couldn't have grown out of the teapot." And then she took the little boy out of bed, held him close, and the branches of the elder tree, full of flowers, closed around her.

They sat in an airy room, and it flew with them through the air. Oh, it was wonderfully beautiful! Old Nanny had suddenly become a young and pretty maiden; but her dress was still the same green fabric with white flowers that she had worn before.

On her chest she had a real elderflower, and in her yellow, wavy hair a wreath of flowers. Her eyes were so large and blue that it was a joy to look at them. She kissed the boy, and now they were the same age and felt the same.

Hand in hand they left the bower and stood in the beautiful garden of their home. Near the green lawn, papa's walking stick was tied up, and for the little ones it seemed to have come to life; as soon as they straddled it, the round polished knob turned into a magnificent, neighing head, a long black mane fluttered in the breeze, and four slender but strong legs appeared. The animal was strong and handsome, and off they went at a full gallop around the lawn.

"Hurrah! Now we're riding miles away," said the boy. "We're riding to the castle where we went last year!"

And they rode around the grass plot; and the little maiden, who, we know, was none other than Old Nanny, kept crying out, "Now we are in the country! Do you see the farmhouse over there?

And there is an elder tree beside it; and the rooster is scratching the ground for the hens—look how he struts! And now we are near the church. It stands high on the hill, between the large oak trees, one of which is half rotten.

And now we are by the smithy, where the fire is blazing and where the half-naked men are banging with their hammers until the sparks fly. Away! Away! To the beautiful country house!"

And everything the little maiden, who sat behind on the stick, spoke of, flew by in reality. The boy saw it all, and yet they were only going around the grass plot. Then they played in a side avenue and marked out a little garden on the ground; they took elder blossoms from their hair, planted them, and they grew just like those the old people had planted when they were children, as told before.

They walked hand in hand, as the old people had done when they were children; but not to the Round Tower or to Frederiksberg; no, the little girl put her arms around the boy, and then they flew far away across all of Denmark.

And spring came, and summer; then it was autumn, and then winter; and a thousand pictures were reflected in the boy's eyes and in his heart; and the little girl always sang to him, "This you will never forget." And all during their flight the elder tree smelled so sweet and fragrant; he noticed the roses and the fresh beeches, but the elder tree had a more wondrous fragrance, because its flowers hung on the little maiden's chest; and there he often rested his head during the flight.

"It's lovely here in spring!" said the young maiden. And they stood in a beech wood that had just put on its first green, where the woodruff at their feet gave off its fragrance, and the pale red anemone looked so pretty among the greenery. "Oh, if only it were always spring in the sweet-smelling Danish beech forests!"

"It's lovely here in summer!" she said. And she flew past old castles of bygone days of chivalry, where the red walls and the crenellated gables were mirrored in the canal, where the swans were swimming and looked up into the old cool avenues. In the fields the corn was waving like the sea; in the ditches red and yellow flowers were growing, while wild hop vines and blooming convolvulus crept in the hedges; and toward evening the moon rose round and large, and the haystacks in the meadows smelled so sweet. "This one never forgets!"

"It's lovely here in autumn!" said the little maiden. And suddenly the air turned clear and blue again; the forest became red, green, and yellow. The dogs came leaping, and whole flocks of wildfowl flew over the burial mound, where blackberry bushes hung around the old stones. The sea was dark blue, covered with ships full of white sails; and in the barn old women, maidens, and children sat picking hops into a large cask; the young sang songs, but the old told fairy tales about mountain spirits and fortune-tellers. Nothing could be more charming.

"It's delightful here in winter!" said the little maiden. And all the trees were covered with frost; they looked like white coral; the snow crunched underfoot as if one had new boots on; and one shooting star after another was seen in the sky. The Christmas tree was lit in the room; there were presents, and good cheer reigned. In the countryside the violin sounded in the farmer's house; the newly baked cakes were eagerly eaten; even the poorest child said, "It's really delightful here in winter!"

Yes, it was delightful; and the little maiden showed the boy everything; and the elder tree still gave fragrance, and the red flag with the white cross still waved: the flag under which the old seaman in the New Booths had sailed.

And the boy grew up to be a young man, and was to go out into the wide world—far, far away to warm lands where the coffee tree grows; but before he left, the little maiden took an elder blossom from her chest and gave it to him to keep; and it was placed between the pages of his prayer book.

And when in foreign lands he opened the book, it was always at the place where the special flower lay; and the more he looked at it, the fresher it became; he felt, as it were, the fragrance of the Danish groves; and from among the petals he could clearly see the little maiden peeping out with her bright blue eyes—and then she whispered, "It is delightful here in spring, summer, autumn, and winter"; and a hundred visions floated before his mind.

Thus many years passed, and he was now an old man, and sat with his old wife under the blooming tree. They held each other by the hand, just like the old grandfather and grandmother over in the New Booths, and they talked exactly like them of old times, and of the fiftieth anniversary of their wedding.

The little maiden with the blue eyes and with elder blossoms in her hair sat in the tree, nodded to both of them, and said, "Today is the fiftieth anniversary!" And then she took two flowers from her hair and kissed them.

First they shone like silver, then like gold; and when she placed them on the heads of the old people, each flower became a golden crown. So they both sat there like a king and a queen under the fragrant tree, which looked exactly like an elder.

The old man told his wife the story of "Old Nanny," just as it had been told to him when he was a boy. And it seemed to both of them that it contained much that resembled their own history; and those parts that were like it pleased them the most.

"That is how it is," said the little maiden in the tree. "Some call me 'Old Nanny,' others a 'Dryad,' but in reality my name is 'Remembrance.' It is I who sit in the tree that grows and grows! I can remember; I can tell stories! Let me see if you still have my flower."

And the old man opened his prayer book. There lay the elder blossom, as fresh as if it had been placed there only a short time ago. And Remembrance nodded, and the old people, wearing golden crowns, sat in the glow of the evening sun. They closed their eyes, and—and—! Yes, that's the end of the story!

The little boy lay in his bed. He didn't know if he had dreamed or had been listening while someone told him the story. The teapot was standing on the table, but no elder tree was growing out of it! And the old man who had been talking was just about to go out the door, and he did go.

"How wonderful that was!" said the little boy. "Mother, I have been to warm countries."

"I should think so," said his mother. "When one drinks two good cupfuls of elderflower tea, it's likely enough one goes to warm climates." And she tucked him in nicely so he wouldn't catch cold. "You've had a good sleep while I've been sitting here arguing with him about whether it was a story or a fairy tale."

"And where is Old Nanny?" asked the little boy.

"In the teapot," said his mother, "and there she can stay."