A STORY
by Hans Christian Andersen
In the garden all the
apple-trees were in blossom. They had hastened to bring forth flowers
before they got green leaves, and in the yard all the ducklings walked up
and down, and the cat too: it basked in the sun and licked the sunshine
from its own paws. And when one looked at the fields, how beautifully the
corn stood and how green it shone, without comparison! and there was a
twittering and a fluttering of all the little birds, as if the day were a
great festival; and so it was, for it was Sunday. All the bells were
ringing, and all the people went to church, looking cheerful, and dressed
in their best clothes. There was a look of cheerfulness on everything. The
day was so warm and beautiful that one might well have said: "God's
kindness to us men is beyond all limits." But inside the church the
pastor stood in the pulpit, and spoke very loudly and angrily. He said
that all men were wicked, and God would punish them for their sins, and
that the wicked, when they died, would be cast into hell, to burn for ever
and ever. He spoke very excitedly, saying that their evil propensities
would not be destroyed, nor would the fire be extinguished, and they
should never find rest. That was terrible to hear, and he said it in such
a tone of conviction; he described hell to them as a miserable hole where
all the refuse of the world gathers. There was no air beside the hot
burning sulphur flame, and there was no ground under their feet; they, the
wicked ones, sank deeper and deeper, while eternal silence surrounded
them! It was dreadful to hear all that, for the preacher spoke from his
heart, and all the people in the church were terrified. Meanwhile, the
birds sang merrily outside, and the sun was shining so beautifully warm,
it seemed as though every little flower said: "God, Thy kindness
towards us all is without limits." Indeed, outside it was not at all
like the pastor's sermon.
The same evening, upon
going to bed, the pastor noticed his wife sitting there quiet and pensive.
"What is the matter
with you?" he asked her.
"Well, the matter
with me is," she said, "that I cannot collect my thoughts, and
am unable to grasp the meaning of what you said to-day in church- that
there are so many wicked people, and that they should burn eternally.
Alas! eternally- how long! I am only a woman and a sinner before God, but
I should not have the heart to let even the worst sinner burn for ever,
and how could our Lord to do so, who is so infinitely good, and who knows
how the wickedness comes from without and within? No, I am unable to
imagine that, although you say so."
It was autumn; the trees
dropped their leaves, the earnest and severe pastor sat at the bedside of
a dying person. A pious, faithful soul closed her eyes for ever; she was
the pastor's wife.
..."If any one shall
find rest in the grave and mercy before our Lord you shall certainly do
so," said the pastor. He folded her hands and read a psalm over the
dead woman.
She was buried; two large
tears rolled over the cheeks of the earnest man, and in the parsonage it
was empty and still, for its sun had set for ever. She had gone home.
It was night. A cold wind
swept over the pastor's head; he opened his eyes, and it seemed to him as
if the moon was shining into his room. It was not so, however; there was a
being standing before his bed, and looking like the ghost of his deceased
wife. She fixed her eyes upon him with such a kind and sad expression,
just as if she wished to say something to him. The pastor raised himself
in bed and stretched his arms towards her, saying, "Not even you can
find eternal rest! You suffer, you best and most pious woman?"
The dead woman nodded her
head as if to say "Yes," and put her hand on her breast.
"And can I not obtain
rest in the grave for you?"
"Yes," was the
answer.
"And how?"
"Give me one hair-
only one single hair- from the head of the sinner for whom the fire shall
never be extinguished, of the sinner whom God will condemn to eternal
punishment in hell."
"Yes, one ought to be
able to redeem you so easily, you pure, pious woman," he said.
"Follow me,"
said the dead woman. "It is thus granted to us. By my side you will
be able to fly wherever your thoughts wish to go. Invisible to men, we
shall penetrate into their most secret chambers; but with sure hand you
must find out him who is destined to eternal torture, and before the cock
crows he must be found!" As quickly as if carried by the winged
thoughts they were in the great city, and from the walls the names of the
deadly sins shone in flaming letters: pride, avarice, drunkenness,
wantonness- in short, the whole seven-coloured bow of sin.
"Yes, therein, as I
believed, as I knew it," said the pastor, "are living those who
are abandoned to the eternal fire." And they were standing before the
magnificently illuminated gate; the broad steps were adorned with carpets
and flowers, and dance music was sounding through the festive halls. A
footman dressed in silk and velvet stood with a large silver-mounted rod
near the entrance.
"Our ball can compare
favourably with the king's," he said, and turned with contempt
towards the gazing crowd in the street. What he thought was sufficiently
expressed in his features and movements: "Miserable beggars, who are
looking in, you are nothing in comparison to me."
"Pride," said
the dead woman; "do you see him?"
"The footman?"
asked the pastor. "He is but a poor fool, and not doomed to be
tortured eternally by fire!"
"Only a fool!"
It sounded through the whole house of pride: they were all fools there.
Then they flew within the
four naked walls of the miser. Lean as a skeleton, trembling with cold,
and hunger, the old man was clinging with all his thoughts to his money.
They saw him jump up feverishly from his miserable couch and take a loose
stone out of the wall; there lay gold coins in an old stocking. They saw
him anxiously feeling over an old ragged coat in which pieces of gold were
sewn, and his clammy fingers trembled.
"He is ill! That is
madness- a joyless madness- besieged by fear and dreadful dreams!"
They quickly went away and
came before the beds of the criminals; these unfortunate people slept side
by side, in long rows. Like a ferocious animal, one of them rose out of
his sleep and uttered a horrible cry, and gave his comrade a violent dig
in the ribs with his pointed elbow, and this one turned round in his
sleep:
"Be quiet, monster-
sleep! This happens every night!"
"Every night!"
repeated the other. "Yes, every night he comes and tortures me! In my
violence I have done this and that. I was born with an evil mind, which
has brought me hither for the second time; but if I have done wrong I
suffer punishment for it. One thing, however, I have not yet confessed.
When I came out a little while ago, and passed by the yard of my former
master, evil thoughts rose within me when I remembered this and that. I
struck a match a little bit on the wall; probably it came a little too
close to the thatched roof. All burnt down- a great heat rose, such as
sometimes overcomes me. I myself helped to rescue cattle and things,
nothing alive burnt, except a flight of pigeons, which flew into the fire,
and the yard dog, of which I had not thought; one could hear him howl out
of the fire, and this howling I still hear when I wish to sleep; and when
I have fallen asleep, the great rough dog comes and places himself upon
me, and howls, presses, and tortures me. Now listen to what I tell you!
You can snore; you are snoring the whole night, and I hardly a quarter of
an hour!" And the blood rose to the head of the excited criminal; he
threw himself upon his comrade, and beat him with his clenched fist in the
face.
"Wicked Matz has
become mad again!" they said amongst themselves. The other criminals
seized him, wrestled with him, and bent him double, so that his head
rested between his knees, and they tied him, so that the blood almost came
out of his eyes and out of all his pores.
"You are killing the
unfortunate man," said the pastor, and as he stretched out his hand
to protect him who already suffered too much, the scene changed. They flew
through rich halls and wretched hovels; wantonness and envy, all the
deadly sins, passed before them. An angel of justice read their crimes and
their defence; the latter was not a brilliant one, but it was read before
God, Who reads the heart, Who knows everything, the wickedness that comes
from within and from without, Who is mercy and love personified. The
pastor's hand trembled; he dared not stretch it out, he did not venture to
pull a hair out of the sinner's head. And tears gushed from his eyes like
a stream of mercy and love, the cooling waters of which extinguished the
eternal fire of hell.
Just then the cock crowed.
"Father of all mercy,
grant Thou to her the peace that I was unable to procure for her!"
"I have it now!"
said the dead woman. "It was your hard words, your despair of
mankind, your gloomy belief in God and His creation, which drove me to
you. Learn to know mankind! Even in the wicked one lives a part of God-
and this extinguishes and conquers the flame of hell!"
The pastor felt a kiss on
his lips; a gleam of light surrounded him- God's bright sun shone into the
room, and his wife, alive, sweet and full of love, awoke him from a dream
which God had sent him!
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