1872 FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN EVERYTHING IN THE RIGHT PLACE by Hans Christian Andersen IT is more than a hundred years ago! At the border of the wood,near a large lake, stood the old mansion: deep ditches surrounded iton every side, in which reeds and bulrushes grew. Close by thedrawbridge, near the gate, there was an old willow tree, which bentover the reeds. From the narrow pass came the sound of bugles and the trampling ofhorses' feet; therefore a little girl who was watching the geesehastened to drive them away from the bridge, before the wholehunting party came galloping up; they came, however, so quickly,that the girl, in order to avoid being run over, placed herself on oneof the high corner-stones of the bridge. She was still half a childand very delicately built; she had bright blue eyes, and a gentle,sweet expression. But such things the baron did not notice; while hewas riding past the little goose-girl, he reversed his hunting crop,and in rough play gave her such a push with it that she fellbackward into the ditch. "Everything in the right place!" he cried. "Into the ditch withyou." Then he burst out laughing, for that he called fun; the othersjoined in- the whole party shouted and cried, while the hounds barked. While the poor girl was falling she happily caught one of thebranches of the willow tree, by the help of which she held herselfover the water, and as soon as the baron with his company and the dogshad disappeared through the gate, the girl endeavoured to scramble up,but the branch broke off, and she would have fallen backward among therushes, had not a strong hand from above seized her at this moment. Itwas the hand of a pedlar; he had witnessed what had happened from ashort distance, and now hastened to assist her. "Everything in the right place," he said, imitating the noblebaron, and pulling the little maid up to the dry ground. He wishedto put the branch back in the place it had been broken off, but itis not possible to put everything in the right place;" therefore hestuck the branch into the soft ground. "Grow and thrive if you can, and produce a good flute for themyonder at the mansion," he said; it would have given him greatpleasure to see the noble baron and his companions well thrashed. Thenhe entered the castle- but not the banqueting hall; he was toohumble for that. No; he went to the servants' hall. The men-servantsand maids looked over his stock of articles and bargained with him;loud crying and screaming were heard from the master's table above:they called it singing- indeed, they did their best. Laughter andthe howls of dogs were heard through the open windows: there they werefeasting and revelling; wine and strong old ale were foaming in theglasses and jugs; the favourite dogs ate with their masters; now andthen the squires kissed one of these animals, after having wiped itsmouth first with the tablecloth. They ordered the pedlar to come up,but only to make fun of him. The wine had got into their heads, andreason had left them. They poured beer into a stocking that he coulddrink with them, but quick. That's what they called fun, and it madethem laugh. Then meadows, peasants, and farmyards were staked on onecard and lost. "Everything in the right place!" the pedlar said when he had atlast safely got out of Sodom and Gomorrah, as he called it. "Theopen high road is my right place; up there I did not feel at ease." The little maid, who was still watching the geese, nodded kindlyto him as he passed through the gate. Days and weeks passed, and it was seen that the brokenwillow-branch which the peddlar had stuck into the ground near theditch remained fresh and green- nay, it even put forth fresh twigs;the little goose-girl saw that the branch had taken root, and was verypleased; the tree, so she said, was now her tree. While the tree wasadvancing, everything else at the castle was going backward, throughfeasting and gambling, for these are two rollers upon which nobodystands safely. Less than six years afterwards the baron passed outof his castle-gate a poor beggar, while the baronial seat had beenbought by a rich tradesman. He was the very pedlar they had made funof and poured beer into a stocking for him to drink; but honesty andindustry bring one forward, and now the pedlar was the possessor ofthe baronial estate. From that time forward no card-playing waspermitted there. "That's a bad pastime," he said; "when the devil saw the Bible forthe first time he wanted to produce a caricature in opposition toit, and invented card-playing." The new proprietor of the estate took a wife, and whom did hetake?- The little goose-girl, who had always remained good and kind,and who looked as beautiful in her new clothes as if she had been alady of high birth. And how did all this come about? That would be toolong a tale to tell in our busy time, but it really happened, andthe most important events have yet to be told. It was pleasant and cheerful to live in the old place now: themother superintended the household, and the father looked after thingsout-of-doors, and they were indeed very prosperous. Where honesty leads the way, prosperity is sure to follow. The oldmansion was repaired and painted, the ditches were cleaned andfruit-trees planted; all was homely and pleasant, and the floorswere as white and shining as a pasteboard. In the long winter eveningsthe mistress and her maids sat at the spinning-wheel in the largehall; every Sunday the counsellor- this title the pedlar had obtained,although only in his old days- read aloud a portion from the Bible.The children (for they had children) all received the besteducation, but they were not all equally clever, as is the case in allfamilies. In the meantime the willow tree near the drawbridge had grown upinto a splendid tree, and stood there, free, and was never clipped."It is our genealogical tree," said the old people to theirchildren, "and therefore it must be honoured." A hundred years had elapsed. It was in our own days; the lakehad been transformed into marsh land; the whole baronial seat had,as it were, disappeared. A pool of water near some ruined walls wasthe only remainder of the deep ditches; and here stood a magnificentold tree with overhanging branches- that was the genealogical tree.Here it stood, and showed how beautiful a willow can look if onedoes not interfere with it. The trunk, it is true, was cleft in themiddle from the root to the crown; the storms had bent it a little,but it still stood there, and out of every crevice and cleft, in whichwind and weather had carried mould, blades of grass and flowers sprangforth. Especially above, where the large boughs parted, there wasquite a hanging garden, in which wild raspberries and hart's-tongueferns throve, and even a little mistletoe had taken root, and grewgracefully in the old willow branches, which were reflected in thedark water beneath when the wind blew the chickweed into the corner ofthe pool. A footpath which led across the fields passed close by theold tree. High up, on the woody hillside, stood the new mansion. Ithad a splendid view, and was large and magnificent; its window paneswere so clear that one might have thought there were none there atall. The large flight of steps which led to the entrance looked like abower covered with roses and broad-leaved plants. The lawn was asgreen as if each blade of grass was cleaned separately morning andevening. Inside, in the hall, valuable oil paintings were hanging onthe walls. Here stood chairs and sofas covered with silk and velvet,which could be easily rolled about on castors; there were tableswith polished marble tops, and books bound in morocco with gilt edges.Indeed, well-to-do and distinguished people lived here; it was thedwelling of the baron and his family. Each article was in keeping withits surroundings. "Everything in the right place" was the mottoaccording to which they also acted here, and therefore all thepaintings which had once been the honour and glory of the oldmansion were now hung up in the passage which led to the servants'rooms. It was all old lumber, especially two portraits- onerepresenting a man in a scarlet coat with a wig, and the other alady with powdered and curled hair holding a rose in her hand, each ofthem being surrounded by a large wreath of willow branches. Bothportraits had many holes in them, because the baron's sons used thetwo old people as targets for their crossbows. They represented thecounsellor and his wife, from whom the whole family descended. "Butthey did not properly belong to our family," said one of the boys; "hewas a pedlar and she kept the geese. They were not like papa andmamma." The portraits were old lumber, and "everything in its rightplace." That was why the great-grandparents had been hung up in thepassage leading to the servants' rooms. The son of the village pastor was tutor at the mansion. One day hewent for a walk across the fields with his young pupils and theirelder sister, who had lately been confirmed. They walked along theroad which passed by the old willow tree, and while they were on theroad she picked a bunch of field-flowers. "Everything in the rightplace," and indeed the bunch looked very beautiful. At the same timeshe listened to all that was said, and she very much liked to hear thepastor's son speak about the elements and of the great men and womenin history. She had a healthy mind, noble in thought and deed, andwith a heart full of love for everything that God had created. Theystopped at the old willow tree, as the youngest of the baron's sonswished very much to have a flute from it, such as had been cut for himfrom other willow trees; the pastor's son broke a branch off. "Oh,pray do not do it!" said the young lady; but it was already done."That is our famous old tree. I love it very much. They often laugh atme at home about it, but that does not matter. There is a storyattached to this tree." And now she told him all that we alreadyknow about the tree- the old mansion, the pedlar and the goose-girlwho had met there for the first time, and had become the ancestorsof the noble family to which the young lady belonged. "They did not like to be knighted, the good old people," she said;"their motto was 'everything in the right place,' and it would notbe right, they thought, to purchase a title for money. My grandfather,the first baron, was their son. They say he was a very learned man,a great favourite with the princes and princesses, and was invitedto all court festivities. The others at home love him best; but, Ido not know why, there seemed to me to be something about the oldcouple that attracts my heart! How homely, how patriarchal, it musthave been in the old mansion, where the mistress sat at thespinning-wheel with her maids, while her husband read aloud out of theBible!" "They must have been excellent, sensible people," said thepastor's son. And with this the conversation turned naturally tonoblemen and commoners; from the manner in which the tutor spoke aboutthe significance of being noble, it seemed almost as if he did notbelong to a commoner's family. "It is good fortune to be of a family who have distinguishedthemselves, and to possess as it were a spur in oneself to advanceto all that is good. It is a splendid thing to belong to a noblefamily, whose name serves as a card of admission to the highestcircles. Nobility is a distinction; it is a gold coin that bears thestamp of its own value. It is the fallacy of the time, and manypoets express it, to say that all that is noble is bad and stupid, andthat, on the contrary, the lower one goes among the poor, the morebrilliant virtues one finds. I do not share this opinion, for it iswrong. In the upper classes one sees many touchingly beautiful traits;my own mother has told me of such, and I could mention several. Oneday she was visiting a nobleman's house in town; my grandmother, Ibelieve, had been the lady's nurse when she was a child. My mother andthe nobleman were alone in the room, when he suddenly noticed an oldwoman on crutches come limping into the courtyard; she came everySunday to carry a gift away with her. "'There is the poor old woman,' said the nobleman; 'it is sodifficult for her to walk.' "My mother had hardly understood what he said before hedisappeared from the room, and went downstairs, in order to save herthe troublesome walk for the gift she came to fetch. Of course this isonly a little incident, but it has its good sound like the poorwidow's two mites in the Bible, the sound which echoes in the depth ofevery human heart; and this is what the poet ought to show and pointout- more especially in our own time he ought to sing of this; it doesgood, it mitigates and reconciles! But when a man, simply because heis of noble birth and possesses a genealogy, stands on his hind legsand neighs in the street like an Arabian horse, and says when acommoner has been in a room: 'Some people from the street have beenhere,' there nobility is decaying; it has become a mask of the kindthat Thespis created, and it is amusing when such a person isexposed in satire." Such was the tutor's speech; it was a little long, but while hedelivered it he had finished cutting the flute. There was a large party at the mansion; many guests from theneighbourhood and from the capital had arrived. There were ladies withtasteful and with tasteless dresses; the big hall was quite crowdedwith people. The clergymen stood humbly together in a corner, andlooked as if they were preparing for a funeral, but it was a festival-only the amusement had not yet begun. A great concert was to takeplace, and that is why the baron's young son had brought his willowflute with him; but he could not make it sound, nor could hisfather, and therefore the flute was good for nothing. There was music and songs of the kind which delight most thosethat perform them; otherwise quite charming! "Are you an artist?" said a cavalier, the son of his father;"you play on the flute, you have made it yourself; it is genius thatrules- the place of honour is due to you." "Certainly not! I only advance with the time, and that of courseone can't help." "I hope you will delight us all with the little instrument- willyou not?" Thus saying he handed to the tutor the flute which hadbeen cut from the willow tree by the pool; and then announced in aloud voice that the tutor wished to perform a solo on the flute.They wished to tease him- that was evident, and therefore the tutordeclined to play, although he could do so very well. They urged andrequested him, however, so long, that at last he took up the flute andplaced it to his lips. That was a marvellous flute! Its sound was as thrilling as thewhistle of a steam engine; in fact it was much stronger, for itsounded and was heard in the yard, in the garden, in the wood, andmany miles round in the country; at the same time a storm rose androared; "Everything in the right place." And with this the baron, asif carried by the wind, flew out of the hall straight into theshepherd's cottage, and the shepherd flew- not into the hall,thither he could not come- but into the servants' hall, among thesmart footmen who were striding about in silk stockings; these haughtymenials looked horror-struck that such a person ventured to sit attable with them. But in the hall the baron's daughter flew to theplace of honour at the end of the table- she was worthy to sitthere; the pastor's son had the seat next to her; the two sat there asif they were a bridal pair. An old Count, belonging to one of theoldest families of the country, remained untouched in his place ofhonour; the flute was just, and it is one's duty to be so. Thesharp-tongued cavalier who had caused the flute to be played, andwho was the child of his parents, flew headlong into the fowl-house,but not he alone. The flute was heard at the distance of a mile, and strangeevents took place. A rich banker's family, who were driving in a coachand four, were blown out of it, and could not even find room behind itwith their footmen. Two rich farmers who had in our days shot uphigher than their own corn-fields, were flung into the ditch; it was adangerous flute. Fortunately it burst at the first sound, and that wasa good thing, for then it was put back into its owner's pocket- "itsright place." The next day, nobody spoke a word about what had taken place; thusoriginated the phrase, "to pocket the flute." Everything was againin its usual order, except that the two old pictures of the peddlarand the goose-girl were hanging in the banqueting-hall. There theywere on the wall as if blown up there; and as a real expert saidthat they were painted by a master's hand, they remained there andwere restored. "Everything in the right place," and to this it willcome. Eternity is long, much longer indeed than this story. THE END.