THE CONCEITED
APPLE-BRANCH
by Hans Christian Andersen
It was the month of May.
The wind still blew cold; but from bush and tree, field and flower, came
the welcome sound, "Spring is come." Wild-flowers in profusion
covered the hedges. Under the little apple-tree, Spring seemed busy, and
told his tale from one of the branches which hung fresh and blooming, and
covered with delicate pink blossoms that were just ready to open. The
branch well knew how beautiful it was; this knowledge exists as much in
the leaf as in the blood; I was therefore not surprised when a nobleman's
carriage, in which sat the young countess, stopped in the road just by.
She said that an apple-branch was a most lovely object, and an emblem of
spring in its most charming aspect. Then the branch was broken off for
her, and she held it in her delicate hand, and sheltered it with her silk
parasol. Then they drove to the castle, in which were lofty halls and
splendid drawing-rooms. Pure white curtains fluttered before the open
windows, and beautiful flowers stood in shining, transparent vases; and in
one of them, which looked as if it had been cut out of newly fallen snow,
the apple-branch was placed, among some fresh, light twigs of beech. It
was a charming sight. Then the branch became proud, which was very much
like human nature.
People of every
description entered the room, and, according to their position in society,
so dared they to express their admiration. Some few said nothing, others
expressed too much, and the apple-branch very soon got to understand that
there was as much difference in the characters of human beings as in those
of plants and flowers. Some are all for pomp and parade, others have a
great deal to do to maintain their own importance, while the rest might be
spared without much loss to society. So thought the apple-branch, as he
stood before the open window, from which he could see out over gardens and
fields, where there were flowers and plants enough for him to think and
reflect upon; some rich and beautiful, some poor and humble indeed.
"Poor, despised
herbs," said the apple-branch; "there is really a difference
between them and such as I am. How unhappy they must be, if they can feel
as those in my position do! There is a difference indeed, and so there
ought to be, or we should all be equals."
And the apple-branch
looked with a sort of pity upon them, especially on a certain little
flower that is found in fields and in ditches. No one bound these flowers
together in a nosegay; they were too common; they were even known to grow
between the paving-stones, shooting up everywhere, like bad weeds; and
they bore the very ugly name of "dog-flowers" or
"dandelions."
"Poor, despised
plants," said the apple-bough, "it is not your fault that you
are so ugly, and that you have such an ugly name; but it is with plants as
with men,- there must be a difference."
"A difference!"
cried the sunbeam, as he kissed the blooming apple-branch, and then kissed
the yellow dandelion out in the fields. All were brothers, and the sunbeam
kissed them- the poor flowers as well as the rich.
The apple-bough had never
thought of the boundless love of God, which extends over all the works of
creation, over everything which lives, and moves, and has its being in
Him; he had never thought of the good and beautiful which are so often
hidden, but can never remain forgotten by Him,- not only among the lower
creation, but also among men. The sunbeam, the ray of light, knew better.
"You do not see very
far, nor very clearly," he said to the apple-branch. "Which is
the despised plant you so specially pity?"
"The dandelion,"
he replied. "No one ever places it in a nosegay; it is often trodden
under foot, there are so many of them; and when they run to seed, they
have flowers like wool, which fly away in little pieces over the roads,
and cling to the dresses of the people. They are only weeds; but of course
there must be weeds. O, I am really very thankful that I was not made like
one of these flowers."
There came presently
across the fields a whole group of children, the youngest of whom was so
small that it had to be carried by the others; and when he was seated on
the grass, among the yellow flowers, he laughed aloud with joy, kicked out
his little legs, rolled about, plucked the yellow flowers, and kissed them
in childlike innocence. The elder children broke off the flowers with long
stems, bent the stalks one round the other, to form links, and made first
a chain for the neck, then one to go across the shoulders, and hang down
to the waist, and at last a wreath to wear round the head, so that they
looked quite splendid in their garlands of green stems and golden flowers.
But the eldest among them gathered carefully the faded flowers, on the
stem of which was grouped together the seed, in the form of a white
feathery coronal. These loose, airy wool-flowers are very beautiful, and
look like fine snowy feathers or down. The children held them to their
mouths, and tried to blow away the whole coronal with one puff of the
breath. They had been told by their grandmothers that who ever did so
would be sure to have new clothes before the end of the year. The despised
flower was by this raised to the position of a prophet or foreteller of
events.
"Do you see,"
said the sunbeam, "do you see the beauty of these flowers? do you see
their powers of giving pleasure?"
"Yes, to
children," said the apple-bough.
By-and-by an old woman
came into the field, and, with a blunt knife without a handle, began to
dig round the roots of some of the dandelion-plants, and pull them up.
With some of these she intended to make tea for herself; but the rest she
was going to sell to the chemist, and obtain some money.
"But beauty is of
higher value than all this," said the apple-tree branch; "only
the chosen ones can be admitted into the realms of the beautiful. There is
a difference between plants, just as there is a difference between
men."
Then the sunbeam spoke of
the boundless love of God, as seen in creation, and over all that lives,
and of the equal distribution of His gifts, both in time and in eternity.
"That is your
opinion," said the apple-bough.
Then some people came into
the room, and, among them, the young countess,- the lady who had placed
the apple-bough in the transparent vase, so pleasantly beneath the rays of
the sunlight. She carried in her hand something that seemed like a flower.
The object was hidden by two or three great leaves, which covered it like
a shield, so that no draught or gust of wind could injure it, and it was
carried more carefully than the apple-branch had ever been. Very
cautiously the large leaves were removed, and there appeared the feathery
seed-crown of the despised dandelion. This was what the lady had so
carefully plucked, and carried home so safely covered, so that not one of
the delicate feathery arrows of which its mist-like shape was so lightly
formed, should flutter away. She now drew it forth quite uninjured, and
wondered at its beautiful form, and airy lightness, and singular
construction, so soon to be blown away by the wind.
"See," she
exclaimed, "how wonderfully God has made this little flower. I will
paint it with the apple-branch together. Every one admires the beauty of
the apple-bough; but this humble flower has been endowed by Heaven with
another kind of loveliness; and although they differ in appearance, both
are the children of the realms of beauty."
Then the sunbeam kissed
the lowly flower, and he kissed the blooming apple-branch, upon whose
leaves appeared a rosy blush.
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