1872 FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN ANNE LISBETH by Hans Christian Andersen ANNE LISBETH was a beautiful young woman, with a red and whitecomplexion, glittering white teeth, and clear soft eyes; and herfootstep was light in the dance, but her mind was lighter still. Shehad a little child, not at all pretty; so he was put out to benursed by a laborer's wife, and his mother went to the count's castle.She sat in splendid rooms, richly decorated with silk and velvet;not a breath of air was allowed to blow upon her, and no one wasallowed to speak to her harshly, for she was nurse to the count'schild. He was fair and delicate as a prince, and beautiful as anangel; and how she loved this child! Her own boy was provided for bybeing at the laborer's where the mouth watered more frequently thanthe pot boiled, and where in general no one was at home to take careof the child. Then he would cry, but what nobody knows nobody caresfor; so he would cry till he was tired, and then fall asleep; andwhile we are asleep we can feel neither hunger nor thirst. Ah, yes;sleep is a capital invention. As years went on, Anne Lisbeth's child grew apace like weeds,although they said his growth had been stunted. He had become quitea member of the family in which he dwelt; they received money tokeep him, so that his mother got rid of him altogether. She had becomequite a lady; she had a comfortable home of her own in the town; andout of doors, when she went for a walk, she wore a bonnet; but shenever walked out to see the laborer: that was too far from the town,and, indeed, she had nothing to go for, the boy now belonged tothese laboring people. He had food, and he could also do somethingtowards earning his living; he took care of Mary's red cow, for heknew how to tend cattle and make himself useful. The great dog by the yard gate of a nobleman's mansion sitsproudly on the top of his kennel when the sun shines, and barks atevery one that passes; but if it rains, he creeps into his house,and there he is warm and dry. Anne Lisbeth's boy also sat in thesunshine on the top of the fence, cutting out a little toy. If itwas spring-time, he knew of three strawberry-plants in blossom,which would certainly bear fruit. This was his most hopeful thought,though it often came to nothing. And he had to sit out in the rainin the worst weather, and get wet to the skin, and let the cold winddry the clothes on his back afterwards. If he went near the farmyardbelonging to the count, he was pushed and knocked about, for the menand the maids said he was so horrible ugly; but he was used to allthis, for nobody loved him. This was how the world treated AnneLisbeth's boy, and how could it be otherwise. It was his fate to bebeloved by no one. Hitherto he had been a land crab; the land atlast cast him adrift. He went to sea in a wretched vessel, and satat the helm, while the skipper sat over the grog-can. He was dirty andugly, half-frozen and half-starved; he always looked as if he neverhad enough to eat, which was really the case. Late in the autumn, when the weather was rough, windy, and wet,and the cold penetrated through the thickest clothing, especially atsea, a wretched boat went out to sea with only two men on board, or,more correctly, a man and a half, for it was the skipper and hisboy. There had only been a kind of twilight all day, and it soongrew quite dark, and so bitterly cold, that the skipper took a dram towarm him. The bottle was old, and the glass too. It was perfect in theupper part, but the foot was broken off, and it had therefore beenfixed upon a little carved block of wood, painted blue. A dram is agreat comfort, and two are better still, thought the skipper, whilethe boy sat at the helm, which he held fast in his hard seamedhands. He was ugly, and his hair was matted, and he looked crippledand stunted; they called him the field-laborer's boy, though in thechurch register he was entered as Anne Lisbeth's son. The wind cutthrough the rigging, and the boat cut through the sea. The sails,filled by the wind, swelled out and carried them along in wild career.It was wet and rough above and below, and might still be worse.Hold! what is that? What has struck the boat? Was it a waterspout,or a heavy sea rolling suddenly upon them? "Heaven help us!" cried the boy at the helm, as the boat heeledover and lay on its beam ends. It had struck on a rock, which rosefrom the depths of the sea, and sank at once, like an old shoe in apuddle. "It sank at once with mouse and man," as the saying is.There might have been mice on board, but only one man and a half,the skipper and the laborer's boy. No one saw it but the skimmingsea-gulls and the fishes beneath the water; and even they did notsee it properly, for they darted back with terror as the boat filledwith water and sank. There it lay, scarcely a fathom below thesurface, and those two were provided for, buried, and forgotten. Theglass with the foot of blue wood was the only thing that did not sink,for the wood floated and the glass drifted away to be cast upon theshore and broken; where and when, is indeed of no consequence. Ithad served its purpose, and it had been loved, which Anne Lisbeth'sboy had not been. But in heaven no soul will be able to say, "Neverloved." Anne Lisbeth had now lived in the town many years; she wascalled "Madame," and felt dignified in consequence; she remembered theold, noble days, in which she had driven in the carriage, and hadassociated with countess and baroness. Her beautiful, noble childhad been a dear angel, and possessed the kindest heart; he had lovedher so much, and she had loved him in return; they had kissed andloved each other, and the boy had been her joy, her second life. Nowhe was fourteen years of age, tall, handsome, and clever. She hadnot seen him since she carried him in her arms; neither had she beenfor years to the count's palace; it was quite a journey thither fromthe town. "I must make one effort to go," said Anne Lisbeth, "to see mydarling, the count's sweet child, and press him to my heart. Certainlyhe must long to see me, too, the young count; no doubt he thinks of meand loves me, as in those days when he would fling his angel-armsround my neck, and lisp 'Anne Liz.' It was music to my ears. Yes, Imust make an effort to see him again." She drove across the country ina grazier's cart, and then got out, and continued her journey on foot,and thus reached the count's castle. It was as great and magnificentas it had always been, and the garden looked the same as ever; all theservants were strangers to her, not one of them knew Anne Lisbeth, norof what consequence she had once been there; but she felt sure thecountess would soon let them know it, and her darling boy, too: howshe longed to see him! Now that Anne Lisbeth was at her journey's end, she was keptwaiting a long time; and for those who wait, time passes slowly. Butbefore the great people went in to dinner, she was called in andspoken to very graciously. She was to go in again after dinner, andthen she would see her sweet boy once more. How tall, and slender, andthin he had grown; but the eyes and the sweet angel mouth were stillbeautiful. He looked at her, but he did not speak, he certainly didnot know who she was. He turned round and was going away, but sheseized his hand and pressed it to her lips. "Well, well," he said; and with that he walked out of the room. Hewho filled her every thought! he whom she loved best, and who washer whole earthly pride! Anne Lisbeth went forth from the castle into the public road,feeling mournful and sad; he whom she had nursed day and night, andeven now carried about in her dreams, had been cold and strange, andhad not a word or thought respecting her. A great black raven darteddown in front of her on the high road, and croaked dismally. "Ah," said she, "what bird of ill omen art thou?" Presently shepassed the laborer's hut; his wife stood at the door, and the twowomen spoke to each other. "You look well," said the woman; "you're fat and plump; you arewell off." "Oh yes," answered Anne Lisbeth. "The boat went down with them," continued the woman; "Hans theskipper and the boy were both drowned; so there's an end of them. Ialways thought the boy would be able to help me with a few dollars.He'll never cost you anything more, Anne Lisbeth." "So they were drowned," repeated Anne Lisbeth; but she said nomore, and the subject was dropped. She felt very low-spirited, becauseher count-child had shown no inclination to speak to her who loved himso well, and who had travelled so far to see him. The journey had costmoney too, and she had derived no great pleasure from it. Still shesaid not a word of all this; she could not relieve her heart bytelling the laborer's wife, lest the latter should think she did notenjoy her former position at the castle. Then the raven flew over her,screaming again as he flew. "The black wretch!" said Anne Lisbeth, "he will end by frighteningme today." She had brought coffee and chicory with her, for shethought it would be a charity to the poor woman to give them to her toboil a cup of coffee, and then she would take a cup herself. The woman prepared the coffee, and in the meantime Anne Lisbethseated her in a chair and fell asleep. Then she dreamed of somethingwhich she had never dreamed before; singularly enough she dreamed ofher own child, who had wept and hungered in the laborer's hut, and hadbeen knocked about in heat and in cold, and who was now lying in thedepths of the sea, in a spot only known by God. She fancied she wasstill sitting in the hut, where the woman was busy preparing thecoffee, for she could smell the coffee-berries roasting. Butsuddenly it seemed to her that there stood on the threshold abeautiful young form, as beautiful as the count's child, and thisapparition said to her, "The world is passing away; hold fast to me,for you are my mother after all; you have an angel in heaven, holdme fast;" and the child-angel stretched out his hand and seized her.Then there was a terrible crash, as of a world crumbling to pieces,and the angel-child was rising from the earth, and holding her bythe sleeve so tightly that she felt herself lifted from the ground;but, on the other hand, something heavy hung to her feet and draggedher down, and it seemed as if hundreds of women were clinging toher, and crying, "If thou art to be saved, we must be saved too.Hold fast, hold fast." And then they all hung on her, but there weretoo many; and as they clung the sleeve was torn, and Anne Lisbeth felldown in horror, and awoke. Indeed she was on the point of falling overin reality with the chair on which she sat; but she was so startledand alarmed that she could not remember what she had dreamed, onlythat it was something very dreadful. They drank their coffee and had a chat together, and then AnneLisbeth went away towards the little town where she was to meet thecarrier, who was to drive her back to her own home. But when shecame to him she found that he would not be ready to start till theevening of the next day. Then she began to think of the expense, andwhat the distance would be to walk. She remembered that the route bythe sea-shore was two miles shorter than by the high road; and asthe weather was clear, and there would be moonlight, she determined tomake her way on foot, and to start at once, that she might reachhome the next day. The sun had set, and the evening bells sounded through the airfrom the tower of the village church, but to her it was not the bells,but the cry of the frogs in the marshes. Then they ceased, and allaround became still; not a bird could be heard, they were all at rest,even the owl had not left her hiding place; deep silence reigned onthe margin of the wood by the sea-shore. As Anne Lisbeth walked on shecould hear her own footsteps in the sands; even the waves of the seawere at rest, and all in the deep waters had sunk into silence.There was quiet among the dead and the living in the deep sea. AnneLisbeth walked on, thinking of nothing at all, as people say, orrather her thoughts wandered, but not away from her, for thought isnever absent from us, it only slumbers. Many thoughts that have laindormant are roused at the proper time, and begin to stir in the mindand the heart, and seem even to come upon us from above. It iswritten, that a good deed bears a blessing for its fruit; and it isalso written, that the wages of sin is death. Much has been said andmuch written which we pass over or know nothing of. A light ariseswithin us, and then forgotten things make themselves remembered; andthus it was with Anne Lisbeth. The germ of every vice and every virtuelies in our heart, in yours and in mine; they lie like little grainsof seed, till a ray of sunshine, or the touch of an evil hand, oryou turn the corner to the right or to the left, and the decision ismade. The little seed is stirred, it swells and shoots up, and poursits sap into your blood, directing your course either for good orevil. Troublesome thoughts often exist in the mind, fermentingthere, which are not realized by us while the senses are as it wereslumbering; but still they are there. Anne Lisbeth walked on thus withher senses half asleep, but the thoughts were fermenting within her. From one Shrove Tuesday to another, much may occur to weigh downthe heart; it is the reckoning of a whole year; much may be forgotten,sins against heaven in word and thought, sins against our neighbor,and against our own conscience. We are scarcely aware of theirexistence; and Anne Lisbeth did not think of any of her errors. Shehad committed no crime against the law of the land; she was anhonorable person, in a good position- that she knew. She continued her walk along by the margin of the sea. What was itshe saw lying there? An old hat; a man's hat. Now when might that havebeen washed overboard? She drew nearer, she stopped to look at thehat; "Ha! what was lying yonder?" She shuddered; yet it was nothingsave a heap of grass and tangled seaweed flung across a long stone,but it looked like a corpse. Only tangled grass, and yet she wasfrightened at it. As she turned to walk away, much came into hermind that she had heard in her childhood: old superstitions ofspectres by the sea-shore; of the ghosts of drowned but unburiedpeople, whose corpses had been washed up on the desolate beach. Thebody, she knew, could do no harm to any one, but the spirit couldpursue the lonely wanderer, attach itself to him, and demand to becarried to the churchyard, that it might rest in consecrated ground."Hold fast! hold fast!" the spectre would cry; and as Anne Lisbethmurmured these words to herself, the whole of her dream was suddenlyrecalled to her memory, when the mother had clung to her, anduttered these words, when, amid the crashing of worlds, her sleeve hadbeen torn, and she had slipped from the grasp of her child, who wantedto hold her up in that terrible hour. Her child, her own child,which she had never loved, lay now buried in the sea, and might riseup, like a spectre, from the waters, and cry, "Hold fast; carry meto consecrated ground!" As these thoughts passed through her mind, fear gave speed toher feet, so that she walked faster and faster. Fear came upon heras if a cold, clammy hand had been laid upon her heart, so that shealmost fainted. As she looked across the sea, all there grew darker; aheavy mist came rolling onwards, and clung to bush and tree,distorting them into fantastic shapes. She turned and glanced at themoon, which had risen behind her. It looked like a pale, raylesssurface, and a deadly weight seemed to hang upon her limbs. "Hold,"thought she; and then she turned round a second time to look at themoon. A white face appeared quite close to her, with a mist, hanginglike a garment from its shoulders. "Stop! carry me to consecratedearth," sounded in her ears, in strange, hollow tones. The sound didnot come from frogs or ravens; she saw no sign of such creatures. "Agrave! dig me a grave!" was repeated quite loud. Yes, it was indeedthe spectre of her child. The child that lay beneath the ocean, andwhose spirit could have no rest until it was carried to thechurchyard, and until a grave had been dug for it in consecratedground. She would go there at once, and there she would dig. Sheturned in the direction of the church, and the weight on her heartseemed to grow lighter, and even to vanish altogether; but when sheturned to go home by the shortest way, it returned. "Stop! stop!"and the words came quite clear, though they were like the croak of afrog, or the wail of a bird. "A grave! dig me a grave!" The mist was cold and damp, her hands and face were moist andclammy with horror, a heavy weight again seized her and clung toher, her mind became clear for thoughts that had never before beenthere. In these northern regions, a beech-wood often buds in a singlenight and appears in the morning sunlight in its full glory ofyouthful green. So, in a single instant, can the consciousness ofthe sin that has been committed in thoughts, words, and actions of ourpast life, be unfolded to us. When once the conscience is awakened, itsprings up in the heart spontaneously, and God awakens theconscience when we least expect it. Then we can find no excuse forourselves; the deed is there and bears witness against us. Thethoughts seem to become words, and to sound far out into the world. Weare horrified at the thought of what we have carried within us, and atthe consciousness that we have not overcome the evil which has itsorigin in thoughtlessness and pride. The heart conceals withinitself the vices as well as the virtues, and they grow in theshallowest ground. Anne Lisbeth now experienced in thought what wehave clothed in words. She was overpowered by them, and sank downand crept along for some distance on the ground. "A grave! dig me agrave!" sounded again in her ears, and she would have gladly buriedherself, if in the grave she could have found forgetfulness of heractions. It was the first hour of her awakening, full of anguish andhorror. Superstition made her alternately shudder with cold or burnwith the heat of fever. Many things, of which she had feared even tospeak, came into her mind. Silently, as the cloud-shadows in themoonshine, a spectral apparition flitted by her; she had heard of itbefore. Close by her galloped four snorting steeds, with fire flashingfrom their eyes and nostrils. They dragged a burning coach, and withinit sat the wicked lord of the manor, who had ruled there a hundredyears before. The legend says that every night, at twelve o'clock,he drove into his castleyard and out again. He was not as pale as deadmen are, but black as a coal. He nodded, and pointed to AnneLisbeth, crying out, "Hold fast! hold fast! and then you may rideagain in a nobleman's carriage, and forget your child." She gathered herself up, and hastened to the churchyard; but blackcrosses and black ravens danced before her eyes, and she could notdistinguish one from the other. The ravens croaked as the raven haddone which she saw in the daytime, but now she understood what theysaid. "I am the raven-mother; I am the raven-mother," each ravencroaked, and Anne Lisbeth felt that the name also applied to her;and she fancied she should be transformed into a black bird, andhave to cry as they cried, if she did not dig the grave. And she threwherself upon the earth, and with her hands dug a grave in the hardground, so that the blood ran from her fingers. "A grave! dig me agrave!" still sounded in her ears; she was fearful that the cock mightcrow, and the first red streak appear in the east, before she hadfinished her work; and then she would be lost. And the cock crowed,and the day dawned in the east, and the grave was only half dug. Anicy hand passed over her head and face, and down towards her heart."Only half a grave," a voice wailed, and fled away. Yes, it fledaway over the sea; it was the ocean spectre; and, exhausted andoverpowered, Anne Lisbeth sunk to the ground, and her senses left her. It was a bright day when she came to herself, and two men wereraising her up; but she was not lying in the churchyard, but on thesea-shore, where she had dug a deep hole in the sand, and cut her handwith a piece of broken glass, whose sharp stern was stuck in alittle block of painted wood. Anne Lisbeth was in a fever.Conscience had roused the memories of superstitions, and had soacted upon her mind, that she fancied she had only half a soul, andthat her child had taken the other half down into the sea. Never wouldshe be able to cling to the mercy of Heaven till she had recoveredthis other half which was now held fast in the deep water. Anne Lisbeth returned to her home, but she was no longer the womanshe had been. Her thoughts were like a confused, tangled skein; onlyone thread, only one thought was clear to her, namely that she mustcarry the spectre of the sea-shore to the churchyard, and dig agrave for him there; that by so doing she might win back her soul.Many a night she was missed from her home, and was always found on thesea-shore waiting for the spectre. In this way a whole year passed; and then one night she vanishedagain, and was not to be found. The whole of the next day was spent ina useless search after her. Towards evening, when the clerk entered the church to toll thevesper bell, he saw by the altar Anne Lisbeth, who had spent the wholeday there. Her powers of body were almost exhausted, but her eyesflashed brightly, and on her cheeks was a rosy flush. The last rays ofthe setting sun shone upon her, and gleamed over the altar upon theshining clasps of the Bible, which lay open at the words of theprophet Joel, "Rend your hearts and not your garments, and turn untothe Lord." "That was just a chance," people said; but do things happen bychance? In the face of Anne Lisbeth, lighted up by the evening sun,could be seen peace and rest. She said she was happy now, for shehad conquered. The spectre of the shore, her own child, had come toher the night before, and had said to her, "Thou hast dug me only halfa grave: but thou hast now, for a year and a day, buried me altogetherin thy heart, and it is there a mother can best hide her child!" Andthen he gave her back her lost soul, and brought her into thechurch. "Now I am in the house of God," she said, "and in that housewe are happy." When the sun set, Anne Lisbeth's soul had risen to that regionwhere there is no more pain; and Anne Lisbeth's troubles were at anend. THE END.