Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales/The Gardener

by Hans Christian Andersen

For other English-language translations of this work, see The Gardener (Andersen).

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THE GARDENER.

A splendid castle, with thick walls, towers, and winding staircases, stood at about the distance of a mile from any other residence.

In this castle dwelt a rich, high-born nobleman—only, however, during the months of summer, when the beautiful grounds were in their richest verdure.

Of all other residences situated in the neighbourhood this was the best and most beautiful. Outside, the constant play of fountains preserved the wonderful vegetation; and within the castle everything was arranged with comfort and elegance.

Over the entrance gate the family escutcheon had been carved in stone. Blooming roses climbed round it, and also round the balcony in great profusion.

In front of the castle extended a large and well-kept lawn, with a carpet of fresh turf as soft as velvet to the foot. Round it were beds of rare and lovely flowers, not only in the hothouse, but in the flower gardens, while hedges and thornbushes, covered with white and pink, blossoms, formed the boundary of the estate.

This nobleman was fortunate enough to possess a clever head-gardener, to whom the flowers, fruit and kitchen gardens, were a delight.

There still remained, however, on the estate, relics of olden times, box-trees cut into forms of crowns and pyramids, and two noble lofty trees. Although very old, they still remained rooted in the earth, but they were now almost without leaves, and it is supposed that a storm or a waterspout had caused a blight to fall upon them.

Time out of mind these lofty trees had contained quantities of nests built by cawing rooks, crows, and ravens. It was quite a bird-village. In fact, these birds were the noble proprietors, and the oldest families on the estate, and actually the rightful owners of the castle.

They cared nothing for the human beings who lived under them. They allowed, as it were, these creatures of earth to associate with them in spite of their insolence; for sometimes they would crack a whip, which would sound like a pistol shot, and make them all fly away, crying “Caw, caw.”

The gardener had more than once begged his master to have these old trees cut down, for they really were not ornamental, and if they were gone, he hoped the birds would soon find another home.

But the nobleman said, “I wish the trees and the flock of birds to remain; they both belong to the castle; they are a part of the olden times, and no one shall ever send them quite away. The trees are really the inheritance of the birds, and we will not deprive them of it, my good Larsen” (Larsen was the gardener’s name), and he found he was not allowed to set matters right as he thought, and get more ground to work upon. “You have the whole of the flower gardens, the hothouse, the fruit and the kitchen gardens, to attend to, and is not that work enough for you, dear Larsen?”

The gardener knew his master was right; he wished above all things to keep such a good situation, and his zeal and cleverness were indefatigable.

The nobleman acknowledged this fact; nevertheless he did not conceal from his gardener, that he knew he could obtain far more beautiful flowers and better fruit from foreign countries than from his own gardens.

All this caused the gardener great sorrow, for both in will and deed he always endeavoured to do his best.

He had a good heart, and was zealous in his work.

One day the nobleman called his gardener, and said, with gentle dignity, “I spoke to you the other day about having seen some foreign fruit of a superior kind, especially apples and pears, so juicy, and of such an agreeable taste, that all the guests where I was dining spoke of them with wonder. The fruit could not have been produced in this country, but must have been cultivated in its native land, and under a very different climate. However, I know there is a large Fruiterer’s shop in the town, so you can ride over to him and make inquiries yourself as to where these apples and pears came from, and then procure grafts from the trees.”

The gardener knew the fruiterer very well, for he had sold to him in the name of his master all the overplus of the fruit which grew in the castle garden. The gardener therefore rode to the town, and asked the fruiterer from whence he had obtained these wonderful apples and pears.

“From your own garden,” said the fruitseller, pointing to the fruit, and Larsen recognised them immediately.

The gardener was overjoyed. He hastened back to the nobleman, and told him of this unusual result—that the apples and pears he had so admired were from their own garden.

“That seems to me quite incredible,” dear Larsen, he said; “is it not impossible? However, if the fruitseller will send me a written testimony that the fruit is really from our garden, I will believe it.”

Larsen very soon brought a certificate from the fruiterer.

“Well, really this is very remarkable,” said the nobleman; and after this event, there was placed on the table every day great dishes with these beautiful apples and pears, which had really come from the nobleman’s own fruit garden. And besides all these, bushels and bushels were sent to friends in the town, as well as elsewhere. It was truly delightful. And to this was added the fact that now was the second summer of unusually beautiful weather, and very favourable for producing ripe and superior fruit.

Time passed on quickly, and one day the nobleman was invited to dine at the king’s table.

Next morning the gardener was sent for by his master, who told him that a melon, with a delicious flavour, had been placed on the king’s table, which was loaded with all kinds of fruit, and this melon had been reared in his majesty’s hothouse.

“Go to the court gardener, good Larsen,” said the nobleman, “and procure from him a seed of this costly melon.”

But the court gardener replied, “Why I got the seed of that melon from one out of the Castle garden.”

Full of joy Larsen returned and told his master.

“And now, indeed, I can feel proud,” he said. “My noble master will spread it abroad that the court gardener this summer has had no success with his melons, and that after seeing and tasting them, he gave orders that three from the castle gardens should be taken to the king’s table.”

“Larsen,” said his master, “don’t fancy that these melons came out of our gardens.”

“But I do believe it,” he said. “I went myself to the court gardener, and received from him a written testimony that the melons on the king’s table had been produced from the seeds of one he had bought from Larsen.”

The nobleman was greatly surprised; he spoke of the circumstance to others, and showed them the written certificate, and, as in the case of the apples and pears, the story of the melon seed travelled everywhere; it was even stated publicly where the fruit flourished and grew, till the castle became noted, and obtained a name which could be spoken and read in English, French, and German.

Hitherto people had supposed that such a thing would be impossible.

“If now my gardener had only not so great an opinion of himself,” said the nobleman; and yet he seized every opportunity that offered to make known the name of his gardener as the best in the country. Therefore, every year Larsen endeavoured to produce some fruit of a superior kind, and yet often he heard it said that the fruit, such as apples and pears, which had been of such an excellent quality at first, were not so good now, and indeed quite inferior. And positively, even the melons, that every one had considered so luscious, were also depreciated.

The strawberries, however, were pronounced excellent, as well as the other splendid fruit. Still, in one year the radishes were a great failure, and were always spoken of afterwards as those “unfortunate radishes,” although since then they had always been good.

It was as if a heavy weight had fallen from the heart of the nobleman when he could say, “This year nothing is wrong, best Larsen,” and he said it joyfully too.

Regularly twice a week the gardener brought fresh flowers into the rooms, and the fragrance was so strong and full, that the odour spread in every direction.

“This fragrance is a gift from heaven, Larsen,” said his master; “no human power could produce that.”

One day the gardener came in carrying a large crystal bowl of water, in which, resting on its leaves that were floating on the water, lay a beautiful water lily—a large, shining, blue flower, with its long thick stem in the water under it.

“An Indian lotus flower!” cried the nobleman. They had never before seen such a flower, and it remained in full bloom for days, both in sunshine and even after dark. Every one who saw it declared that it was a wonderfully lovely and rare flower.

Among others were the young ladies from the king’s palace, the princesses, kind hearted and clever young ladies, who were charmed with its beauty.

The nobleman valued this flower greatly, and on that account many people envied him, and among others the princesses at the king’s palace.

The nobleman went one morning into his garden to pluck a certain kind of flower that he wanted, and to have another look at the water lily, but he could not find it.

Hastily calling the gardener, he asked, “What has become of the blue lotus flower, Larsen? I have searched everywhere, in the hothouse and in the flower garden, but I cannot find it.”

“It is not much worth finding,” said the gardener; “it is only a mean common flower from the kitchen garden, beautiful as it is. It resembles the blue cactus flower, but it is really only the blossom of an artichoke.”

“You should have told me so at first,” replied his master; “we have made a mistake in supposing it a foreign and rare flower. It is your fault that we have made ourselves appear ridiculous before the young princesses. They saw it was an unknown flower to us, and considered it beautiful, but they have studied botany, and these scientific people do not trouble themselves about what grows in kitchen gardens. We could not have been in our senses, good Larsen, to place such a flower as that in a room and make ourselves ridiculous.’

So the beautiful blue and splendid flower, which belonged to the kitchen garden, was removed from the room, where it had no right to be, and sent to a distant part of the estate.

The nobleman blamed himself equally with his servant when he met the princesses, and acknowledged that the flower was only a kitchen garden blossom. “But I have already reproved my gardener,” he said, “for he made the first error in bringing it into the room, and by so doing misled me.

“It was a sin and a shame,” said the princess, when alone; “he showed us a splendid flower that we had never before noticed, and he pointed out the beauties that we did not look for; however, it is a lovely flower, after all, and I shall ask the castle gardener to send me every day an artichoke blossom, for my room.” And he did so.

After a while the gardener told his master that he could bring him a fresh artichoke flower, which he said was even more wonderfully beautiful than the first, and everybody agreed with him.

“That is all right, Larsen,” said the nobleman, “but it is rather out of season.”

The autumn arrived, and with it a frightful storm, which continued in violence the whole night, so that in the borders of the forest many trees were thrown down, to the great grief of the nobleman.

“It is not a sad thing for you, gardener,” he said, for to Larsen’s great joy the storm had thrown down both the great trees with the birds’ nests on them.

Even during the storm could be heard the cawing and cries of the rooks and jackdaws; and those in the castle said the poor birds flew against the window in their terror, as if seeking shelter.

“Now you are free, Larsen,” said the nobleman; “the storm has overthrown the trees, and the birds will soon make another home in the forest. There is nothing left now to remind us of olden times—each ornament, each memory of the past has perished, and it makes me very sorrowful.”

The gardener remained silent, but he said to himself, “Now I shall have a beautiful sunny spot, which will be very useful to me.”

Hitherto he could do nothing on it—now it should be an ornament to the garden, and a joy to his noble master.

The great trees which had been thrown down were very old, and had in falling injured and crushed two elegantly-clipped box-trees. Here was also a kind of thicket formed by the growth of underwood, which separated the spot from the fields and forests that belonged to other landowners.

Till now no other gardener had thought of doing anything similar to what Larsen intended to do. In the richest profusion he set, or sowed, plants of every description in what appeared to him a rich soil, in shady spots or in sunshine, as they needed; and whatever he wished to produce grew here splendidly under the vault of heaven.

The young juniper tree from the adjoining heath, which he had transplanted, became, as it grew taller, like the Italian Cyprus in form and colour, with white prickly Christmas thorns, and would be always green both in the heat of summer and the cold of winter, and was very beautiful to see.

In the foreground grew many species of beautiful ferns, almost like the children of the palm, and others showed their relationship to the deltcate, fine fern, called Venus’s hair.

Here also stood the despised burdock, that in its young freshness is so beautiful, that it is even used in bouquets. The burdock grows on dry ground. In moist ground the gorse lettuce flourishes, also a common plant, yet still from its great height and splendid leaf, is so picturesquely beautiful.

Several plants grew high, with flower upon flower crowded together like a massive, many-branched candelabra, as if they were intended to carry the king’s candles.

Here also grew woodbine, primroses, lilies of the valley, the wild tallowtree, and the delicate trifolium plant, sourkree. It was a splendid sight for all who looked upon it.

Quite in front, supported by steel wires, grew in rows, little pear trees, which had been brought from France. They required and obtained sunshine and good attention, and would therefore very soon bear juicy fruit, quite as well as in their native land.

Where the two blighted trees stood, a flag-staff was planted, on the top of which fluttered the country’s flag.

And in the neighbourhood were hop fields, with many poles in rows, round which the fragrant and umbelliferous blossoms twined during the summer and autumn. But in winter the old custom of hanging up a small sheaf of oats, enabled the birds of heaven to keep an open table in the holy Christmas time.

“Our good Larsen is becoming sentimental in his old days,” said his master; “however, he is a true and devoted servant.

In the beginning of the new year, in one of the illustrated pages of a periodical published in the chief town, appeared a picture of the old castle. There were the flag-staff and the sheaf of oats for the birds of heaven, at the holy Christmas time, and it was politely remarked in the periodical that “this old custom would bring new honour to the old castle.”

“Larsen has done it all,” said the nobleman, “and his name must be trumpeted forth; he is a lucky man, and I am quite proud of him.”

However, Larsen was not as proud of himself as his master was of him. He knew that Larsen, if he liked, could easily obtain a higher situation, but that he would not do so. He was a very good man, and there are many good men like him everywhere, which was very pleasant for Larsen to hear.

See now, this is the story of the gardener and the nobleman.

Now, what do you think of it?