 PART ONE OF THE HAPPY FAMILY This is a LibroVox recording. Only LibroVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibroVox.org. The Snokevin and other stories behinds Christian Andersen, translated by H.P. Paul. THE HAPPY FAMILY PART ONE. The largest green leaf in this country is certainly the bird of leaf. If you hold it in front of you, it is large enough for an apron, and if you hold it over your head, it is almost as good as an umbrella. It is so wonderfully large. A bird of never grows alone, where it grows there many more, and it is a splendid sight. And all its splendor is good for snails. They create white snails, which grant people in olden times used to have made into fricasses. And when they had eaten them, they would say, Oh, what a delicious dish. For these people really sought them good, and these snails lived on bird of leaves, and for them the birdock was planted. There was once an old estate, where no one now lived to require snails. Indeed, the owners had all dried out, but the birdock still flourished. It grew over all the beds and walks of the garden, its growth set no check, till it became at last quite the forest of birdocks. Here and there stood an employee plum tree, but for this nobody would have thought the place had ever been a garden. It was birdock from one end to the other, and here lived the last two surviving snails. They knew not themselves how old they were, but they could remember the time when they were great many more of them, and that they were descended from a family which came from foreign lands and that the whole forest had been planted for them and theirs. They had never been away from the garden, but they knew that another place once existed in the world called the Duke's Palace Castle, in which some of their relations had been bowled till they became black and were then laid on a silver dish. But what was then afterwards they did not know? Besides, they could not imagine exactly how it felt to be bowled and placed on a silver dish, but no doubt it was something very fine and highly gentle. Neither the cockroach, nor the toad, nor the earthworm, ummed a question about it, who gave them the least information, for none of their relations had ever been cooked or served on a silver dish. The old white snails were the most aristocratic race in the world. They knew that. The forest had been planted for them, and the Nobleman's Castle had been built entirely that they might be cooked and laid on silver dishes. They lived quite retired and very happily, and as they had no children of their own, they adopted a little common snail, which they brought up as their own child. The little one would not grow, for he was only a common snail, but the old people, particularly the mother snail, declared that she could easily see how he grew, and when the father said he couldn't perceive it, she begged him to fill a little snail shell, and he did so, and found that the mother was right. End of part one of The Happy Family, recording by Ellie in August 2012. Part two of The Happy Family. This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibraVox.org. Recording by Ellie. The Snokewin and other stories by Hans Christian Andersen, translated by H.B. Paul. The Happy Family. Part two. One day it rained very fast. Listen what the drumming there is on the burdock leaves. Turn, turn, turn. Turn, turn, turn. Set the father snail. There come the drops. Set the mother. They are trickling down the stalks. We shall have it very wet here presently. I am very glad we have such good houses, and that the little one has one of his own. There has really been more done for us than for any other creature. It is quite plain that we are the most noble people in the world. We have houses from our birth, and the burdock forest has been planted for us. I should very much like to know how far it extends and what lies beyond it. There can be nothing better than we have here set the father snail. I wish for nothing more. Yes, but I do set the mother. I should like to be taken to the palace and bowled and laid upon a silver dish as was done to all our ancestors. And you may be sure it must be something very uncommon. The nobleman's castle perhaps has fallen to decay, said the snail-father, or the burdock-wood may have grown out. You need not be in a hurry. You are always so impatient, and the youngster is getting just the same. He has been here three days, gripping to the top of that stalk. I feel quite guilty when I look at him. You must not scold him, said the mother snail. He grips very carefully. He will be the joy of our home, and the old folks have nothing else to live for, but have you ever thought whether we are to get the wife for him? Do you think that father out in the wood there may be others of our race? There may be black snails, no doubt, said the old snail, black snails without houses, but they are so valgar and conceited too. But we can give the aunts a commission. They run here and there as if the old had so much business to get through. They, most likely, will know of a wife for our youngster. I certainly know a most beautiful bride, said one of the aunts, but I fear it would not do for she is a queen. That does not matter, said the old snail. Has she a house? She has a palace, replied the aunt, a most beautiful aunt palace, with seven hundred passages. Thank you, said the mother snail, but our boy shall not go to live in an anthill. If you know of nothing better, we will give the commission to the white nets. They fly about in rain and sunshine. They know the bird of wood from one end to the other. We have a wife for him, said the nets. A hundred men steps from here. There is a little snail with the house, sitting in the gooseberry bush. She is quite alone and old enough to be married. It is only one hundred men steps from here. Then let her come to him, said the old people. Here is the whole bird of forest. She is only a bush. So they brought the little lady snail. She took eight days to perform the journey, but that was just as it ought to be, for it showed her to be one of the right breeding, and then they had the wedding. Six glowworms gave as much light as they could, but in other respects it was all very quiet, for the old snails could not be a festivity so I cried. But the beautiful speech was made by the mother snail. The father could not speak. He was too much overcome. Then they gave the whole bird of forest to the young snails as an inheritance, and repeated what they had so often said, that it was the finest place in the world, and that if they let upright and honorable lives and the family increased, they and their children might someday be taken to the nobleman's palace to be bold, black, and laid on a silver dish. And when they had finished speaking, the old couple crept into their houses and came out no more, for they slept. The young snail-perna holed the forest, and a numerous progeny. But as the young ones were never bold, but lived in silver dishes, they concluded that the castle had fallen into decay, and that all the people in the world were dead, and that nobody contradicted them, they thought they must be right. And the rain fell upon the bird of cliffs to play the drum for them, and the sun shone to pink colors on the bird of forests for them, and they were very happy. The whole family were entirely and perfectly happy. End of part two of The Happy Family, recording by Ellie June 2010. Part one of The Nightingale. This is a LibriVox recording, and LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Snow Queen and other stories by Hans Christian Andersen, translated by H.B. Paul. The Nightingale, part one. In China you know the Emperor is a Chinese, though those about him are Chinamen also. The story I'm going to tell you happened a great many years ago, so it is well to hear it now, before it is forgotten. The Emperor's palace was the most beautiful in the world. It was built entirely of porcelain and very costly, but so delicate and brittle that however touched it was obliged to be careful. In the garden could be seen the most singular flowers, we spread these silver bears tied to them, which think would so that everyone who passed could not help noticing the flowers. Indeed, everything in the Emperor's garden was remarkable, and extended so far that the garden himself did not know where it ended. Though also traveled beyond its limits new, that there was a noble forest to slough the trees, sloping down to the deep blue sea, in the great ships sealed under the shadow of its branches. In one of these trees lived the Nightingale who sang so beautifully that even the poor fisherman heard so many other things to do would stop and listen. Sometimes when they went that night to spread their nets, they would hear her sing and say, Oh, it's not the beautiful. But when they returned to their fishing, they forgot the bird until the next night. Then they would hear it again next game. Oh, how beautiful is the Nightingale's sound. Travelers from every country in the world came to the city of the Emperor, which they admired very much, as well as the palace and the gardens. But when they heard the Nightingale, they all declared it to be the best of all, and the travelers on their return home related what they had seen, and learned many more books, containing the scriptures of the town, the palace and the gardens. But they did not forget the Nightingale, which was really the greatest wonder. And those who could write poetry composed beautiful verses about the Nightingale, who lived in the forest near the deep sea. The books traveled all over the world, and some of them came to the hands of the Emperor. And he sat in his golden chair, and as he read, he not disapproval every moment, for he pleased him to find such a beautiful description of his city, his palace and his gardens. But when he came to the words, the Nightingale is the most beautiful of all, he exclaimed. What is this? I know nothing of any Nightingale. Is there such a burden in my empire, and even in my garden? I have never heard of it. Something it appears may be learned from books. Then he called one of his lords in waiting, who was so high-browed, that when any in an inferior rank to himself spoke to him or asked him a question, he would answer, Poo, which means nothing. There is a very wonderful bird mentioned here called the Nightingale, said the Emperor. They say it is the best thing in my large kingdom, why I have not been told of it. I have never heard the name, replied the Cavalier. She has not been presented at court. It is my pleasure that she shall appear this evening, said the Emperor. The whole world knows what I possess better than to do myself. I have never heard of her, said the Cavalier, yet I will endeavor to find her. But where was the Nightingale to be found? The noble man went up the stairs and down through holes and passages. Yet none of those whom he met had heard of the bird. So he returned to the Emperor and said it must be a fable, invented by those who had written the book. Your Imperial Majesty said he cannot believe everything contained in books, sometimes due only fiction, or what is called a black art. But the book in which I write this account said the Emperor, was sent to me by the great and mighty Emperor of Japan, and therefore it cannot contain a falsehood. I will hear the Nightingale. She must be here this evening. She has my highest favour, and if she does not come, the whole court shall be trampled upon after supper is ended. Tsing Pei cried the Lord in waiting, and again ran up and down the stairs through all the holes and corridors, and half the court ran with him, for I did not like the idea of being trampled upon. There was a great inquiry about this wonderful Nightingale, whom all the world knew, but who was unknown to the court. At last they met with the political girl in the kitchen who said, Oh yes, I know the Nightingale quite well. Indeed, she can sing. Every evening I have permission to take home to my poor sick mother the scraps from the table. She lives down by the seashore, and as I come back I feel tired, and sit down in the wood to rest, and listen to the Nightingale's song. Then the tears come into my eyes, and it is just as if my mother kissed me. Little maiden, said the Lord in waiting, I will obtain for you constant employment the kitchen, and you shall have permission to see the Emperor Tain, if you will lead us to the Nightingale, for she is invited for this evening to the palace. So she went to the wood where the Nightingale sang, and half the court followed her. As they went along, they copied her loin. Oh, said the young courtier, now we have found her, what wonderful power for such a small creature. I have certainly heard it before. No, it is only Kowloon, said the little girl. We are a long way from the place yet. Then some frogs began to croak in the marsh. Beautiful, said the young courtier again. Now I hear it, thinking like little church bells. No, those are frogs, said the little maiden. But I think we shall hear her soon now, and presently the Nightingale began to sing. Huck, huck, there she is, said the girl, and there she sits, she added. Pointing to a little gray bird who was birched on a bow. Is it possible, said the Lord in waiting, and never imagined it would be a little plain, simple thing like that. She has certain to change color at seeing so many grand people around her. Little Nightingale cried the girl, raising her voice. Our most gracious emperor wishes you to sing before him. With the greatest pleasure, said the Nightingale, and began to sing most delightfully. It sounds like tiny glass bells, said the Lord in waiting, and see how her little throat works. It is surprising that you have never heard this before. She will be a great successful court. Shelly sing once more before the emperor, asked the Nightingale, who thought he was present. My excellent little Nightingale said to the courtier, I have the great pleasure of inviting you to a court festival this evening, where you will gain imperial favor by your charming song. My song sounds best in green wood, said the bird, but still she came willingly when she heard the emperor's wish. The palace was elegantly decorated for the occasion. The walls and floors of porcelain glittered in the light of a thousand lamps. Beautiful flowers on which little bells were tied stood in the corridors. But with the running two and four in the draft, these bells tingled so loudly that no one could speak to be heard. In the center of the great hall, a golden perch had been fixed for the Nightingale to sit on. The whole court was present, and the little kitchen maid had received permission to stand by the door. She wasn't installed as a real court cook. All were in full dress, and every eye was turned to the little grey bird when the emperor nodded to her to begin. The Nightingale sang so sweetly that the tears came to the emperor's eyes and then rolled down his cheeks, as her song became still more touching and went to everyone's heart. The emperor was so delighted that he declared the Nightingale should have his golden slipper to wear around her neck. But she declined to honor his thanks. She had been sufficiently rewarded already. I have seen tears in emperor's eyes, she said. This is my richest reward. And the emperor's tears have wonderful power. They are quite sufficient honor for me. And then she sang again, when chanting it in ever. The singing is a lovely gift, said the ladies of the court to each other, and then they took water in their mouths to make them utter the gurgling sounds of the Nightingale, and they spoke to anyone, so that they might fancy themselves Nightingales. The footmen and chambermaids also expressed their satisfaction, which is seeing a great deal, for they are very difficult to please. In fact, the Nightingale's visit was more successful. She was now to remain acquired to have her own cage with liberty to go out twice a day and once during the night. Twelve servants were appointed to attend her on these occasions, who each held by a certain strength fastened to her leg. There was certainly not much pleasure in this kind of flying. The whole city spoke of the wonderful bird, and when two people met once at Nightingale, and the other said Gale, and they understood what was meant, for nothing else was talked of. Eleven peddlers' children were named after her, but not one of them could sing a note. End of part one of the Nightingale, right by Ellie, in August 2012. Part two of the Nightingale. This is a LibreVox recording. Only LibreVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibreVox.org. Recording by Ellie. The Snow Queen and other stories by Hans Christian Andersen, translated by H.B. Paul. The Nightingale, part two. One day the Emperor received a large packet on which was written the Nightingale. Here is no doubt a new book about the celebrated bird set the Emperor, but instead of a book it was a work of art contained in a casket, an artificial Nightingale made to look like a living one, and covered all over with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. As soon as the artificial bird was wound up, it could seem like a rare one, and could move its tail up and down, which sparkled with silver and gold. Hound its neck hung a piece of ribbon on which was written. The Emperor of Japan's Nightingale is poor compared to that of the Emperor of China's. This is very beautiful, exclaimed Ullo Saw it. And he who had brought the artificial bird received the title of Imperial Nightingale Bringer-in-Chief. Now they must sing together set the court, and what the duet it will be. But they did not get on well for the royal Nightingale singing in its own natural way, but the artificial bird sang only waltzes. That is not the fault, said the music master. It is quite perfect to my taste. So then it had to sing alone and was as successful as the royal bird, besides it was so much prettier to look at, for it sparkled like bracelets and breastpins. Three and thirty times did it sing the same tunes without being tired. The people who clearly have heard it again, but the Emperor said the living Nightingale ought to sing something. But where was she? No one had noticed her when she flew out the open window, back to her own green woods. What a strange conduct, said the Emperor, when her flight had been discovered, and all the courtiers blamed her, and said she was a very ungrateful creature. But we have the best bird after all, said one. And then they would have the bird sing again, although it was the thirty-first time they'd listened to the same piece, and even then they had not learned it, for it was rather difficult. But the music master praised the bird in the highest degree, and even asserted that it was better than the royal Nightingale, not only in its dress and beautiful diamonds, but also in its musical power. For you must perceive, my chief Lord and Emperor, that with the royal Nightingale we can never tell what is going to be sung, but with this bird everything is settled. It can be opened and explained, so the people may understand how the vaults are formed, and why one note follows upon another. This is exactly what we think, they all replied, and then the music master received permission to exhibit the bird to the people on the following Sunday, and the Emperor commanded that they should be present to hear it sing. When they heard it, they were like people intoxicated. However it must have been with drinking tea, which is quite a Chinese custom. They all said, oh, and held up their forefingers and nodded, but the poor fisherman who had heard the royal Nightingale said, it sounds pretty enough and the melodies are all alike, yet there seems something wanting, I cannot exactly tell what. And after this the royal Nightingale was banished from the Empire, and the artificial bird placed on a silk cushion close to the Emperor's bed. The presence of golden precious stones which had been received with it were round the bird, and it was now at once to the title of Little Imperial Toilet Singer, and to the rank of number one on the left hand, for the Emperor considered the left side and which the heart lies, as the most noble, and the heart of an Emperor's is in the same place as that of other people. The Music Master wrote the work in twenty-five volumes about the artificial bird, which was very learned and very long, and full of the most difficult Chinese words. Yet all the people said they had read it and understood it for fear of being so stupid, and having the bodies trembled upon. So a year passed, and the Emperor, the court and all the other Chinese knew every little turn in the artificial bird's song, and for that same reason it pleased them better, they could sing with the bird which they often did. The straight boy sang, cc cluck cluck cluck, and the Emperor himself could sing it also. It was rarely most amusing. One evening when the artificial bird was singing its best, and the Emperor lay in bed listening to it, something inside the bird sounded whiz, then a spring raked. There went all the wheels, running round, and then the music stopped. The Emperor immediately sprang out of bed and called for his physician, but what could he do? Then they sent for the watchmaker, and after a great deal of talking and examination the bird was put into something like order. But he said it must be used very carefully, as the barrels were worn, and it would be impossible to put the new ones without injuring the music. Now there was great sorrow, as the bird could only be allowed to play once a year, and even that was dangerous for the works inside it. Then the music master made a little speech, full of hard words, and declared that the bird was as good as ever, and of course no one contradicted him. Five years passed, and then a real grieve came upon the land. The Chinese really were fond of the Emperor, and now he lay so ill that he wasn't expected to live. Already a new Emperor had been chosen, and the people who stood in the street asked the Lord in waiting how the old Emperor was, but he only said Pu and shook his head. Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his royal bed. The whole court thought he was dead and ever went right away to pay homage to his successor. The Chamberlains went out to have a talk on the matter, and the ladies' maids invited the company to take coffee. Clothes had been laid down in the horse and passages, so that not the footstep could be heard, and all was silent and still. But the Emperor was not yet dead, although he lay wide in stiff on his gorgeous bed, with the long velvet curtains and heavy gold tassels, a window stood open, and the moon shone in upon the Emperor and the artificial bird. The poor Emperor, finding a good-hersely breeze with a strange weight on his chest, opened his eyes, and saw death sitting there. All around the bed and peeping through the long velvet curtains were a number of strange heads, some very ugly, others lovely and gentle-looking. These were the Emperor's golden beddeeds, which set him in the face, nor death said at his heart. Do you remember this? Do you recollect that? they asked, after one another, thus bringing to his remembrance circumstances, which made the prespiration stand on his brow. I know nothing about it, said the Emperor. Music, music, he cried. The large Chinese drum that they may not hear what they say. But they still went on, and death nodded like a China man to all they said. Music, music, shouted the Emperor. Your precious golden bird, sing, pray, sing. I've given you gold and costly presents. I've even hung a golden slipper around your neck. Sing, sing. But the bird remained silent. There was no one to find it up, and therefore it could not sing a note. Death continued to stare at the Emperor with his cold hollow eyes, and the home was fearfully still. Suddenly, there came through the open window the sound of sweet music. Outside on the bow of a tree set the living Nightingale. She had heard of the Emperor's illness, and was therefore come to sing to him of hope and trust. And as she sung, the shadows grew paler and paler, the blood in the Emperor's veins flowed more rapidly, and gave life to his weak limbs, and even death himself listened and said, Go on, little Nightingale, go on. Then will you give me the beautiful golden sword and the dredge banner, and will you give me the Emperor's crown, said the bird? So death gave up each of these treasures for a song, and the Nightingale continued her singing. She sang of the quiet churchyard, where the white rose is crow, where the elder tree wafts its perfume on the breeze, and the fresh sweet grass is moistened by the moon's tears. Then death longed to go and see his garden, and floated out through the window in the form of a cold white mist. Thanks, thanks, you heavenly little bird. I know you well. I banished you from my kingdom once, and yet you have charmed away the evil faces from my bed, and banished death from my heart with your song. How can I reward you? You have already rewarded me, said the Nightingale. I shall never forget that the dredge tears from your eyes the first time I sang to you. These are the jewels that rejoice the singer's heart, but now sleep and grow strong and well again. I will sing for you again. And as she sang, the Emperor fell into his sweet sleep, and her mild and refreshing the slumber was. When he awoke, strengthened and restored, the sun shone brightly through the window, but not one of his servants returned. They all believed he was dead. Only the Nightingale still sat beside him and sang, You must always remain with me, said the Emperor. You shall sing only when he pleases you, and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand pieces. No, do not do that, replied the Nightingale. The bird did very well as long as it could. Keep it here still. I cannot live in the palace and build my nest, but let me come when I like. I will sit on the bow outside your window in the evening and sing to you, so that you may be happy and have thoughts full of joy. I will sing to you of those who are happy and those who suffer, of the good and the evil, who are hidden around you. The little singing bird flies far from you and you are caught to the home of the Fisherman and the peasants caught. I love your heart better than your crown, and yet something holy lingers around it also. I will come, I will sing to you, but you must promise me one thing. Everything, said the Emperor, who, having dressed himself in his imperial robes, stood with the hand that held the heavy golden sword pressed to his heart. I only ask one thing, she replied, let no one know that you have a little bird who tells you everything. It will be the best to conceal it. So, saying the Nightingale flew away, the servants now came in to look after the dead Emperor, when low there he stood, and to their astonishment said, Good morning. End of part two of the Nightingale, recording by Ellie, July 2010.