This was more than a hundred years ago!
Behind the woods, beside a large lake, stood an old mansion.Around it was a deep ditch; many reeds and grasses grew in it.By the bridge that leads to the entrance grows an old willow tree; its branches hang down to these reeds.
From the alley came the sound of horns and the clatter of hooves; and a goose-girl drove her flock of geese from the bridge before a pack of hunters galloped up.The hunter came running quickly.She had to climb up to a stone at the end of the bridge in a hurry to avoid being trampled down by them.She was still a child, and very thin; but she had a kind expression on her face and bright eyes.The gentleman did not notice this.As he galloped by, he reversed the whip, and mischievously pushed the handle of the whip against the girl's chest, causing her to roll on her back.
"Everyone in his place!" he cried, "get lost in the mud, please!"
He laughed.Because he thought it was funny, everyone with him laughed too.All the men and horses howled loudly, and even the hounds began to bite.
It's really called:
"The rich bird is flying loudly!" ①Only God knows whether he is still rich now.
As she fell, the poor goose-girl scratched and caught a weeping branch of a willow tree, so that she hung over the swamp.Immediately the master and his hound went through the gate and disappeared.Then she tried to climb up again, but the branch broke suddenly at the top; and if a strong hand above it had not caught her, she would have fallen into the reeds.The man is a wandering peddler.
He saw this from a distance, so he hurried over to help her now.
"Everyone in his place!" he said jokingly, imitating the tone of the gentleman.So he pulled the little girl out onto dry ground.He would have liked to have reconnected the broken branch, but "each in its place" was not something that could be done on any occasion!So he stuck the branch into soft soil. "Grow, if you can, until you can be a flute for the people in that mansion!"
He would have liked the gentleman and his family to have had a good beating.He went into the mansion, but not into the drawing room, for he was so humble!He went into where the servants lived.They searched through his wares and argued over prices.But from the banquet-table in the upper chamber, there rose a noise and a scream--that's what they called singing; they knew nothing better than that.
Laughter mixed with barking and eating and drinking.Liquor and strong ale bubbled in jugs and glasses, and the dogs ate and drank with their masters.
Some dogs were kissed by young masters after wiping their noses with their ears.
They invited the peddler to come up with his wares, but they meant to make fun of him.The wine has entered their stomachs, and their reason has flown away.They poured beer into their socks and asked the peddler to drink with them, but fast!This method is both ingenious and amusing.So all the cattle, serfs, and farms became stakes in a game of cards, and lost.
"Everyone in his place!" said the peddler, as he emerged from what he called "the den of evil." "My 'place' is the broad road, and I don't feel at all at home there."
The goose girl nodded to him over the field fence.
Many days passed.Many weeks passed.The broken willow branch that the peddler had planted beside the ditch was still evidently fresh and green; it had even sprouted shoots.The goose girl knew that the branch had now taken root, and she was very happy, for the tree seemed to her to be hers.
The tree is growing.But everything in the mansion was quickly wiped out in the drinking and gambling-because these two things are like wheels, no one can stand on them.
Six years had not yet passed, and the master came out of the mansion as a poor man with a bag and a cane.The mansion was bought by a wealthy peddler.He's the man who's been teased and laughed at once here—the man who's going to drink beer out of his sock.But honesty and thrift brought prosperity; now the peddler is the master of the mansion.From that time on, however, the game of cards was no longer allowed here.
"It's a very bad pastime," he said. "When the devil first saw the Bible, he wanted to set a bad book to counteract it, so he invented card games!"
The new owner married a wife.She is none other than the goose herding girl.She has always been loyal, reverent and kind.She looked so beautiful in her new dress, as if she had been born a lady.How could things be like this?Yes, it's a long story in our busy times; but that's the way it is, and the most important part is yet to come.
It is a joy to live in this old mansion.The mother took care of the family affairs, and the father took care of the outside affairs. Happiness seemed to flow from a spring.Wherever there is luck, luck often comes.The old house was swept and repainted; the ditches were cleared, and fruit trees were planted.Everything looked warm and cheery; the floor was polished like a chessboard.During the long winter nights, the hostess and her maid sat in the main room weaving wool or spinning thread.On Sunday night the sheriff—the peddler became a sheriff, though he was old now—read a passage from the Bible.The children--for they had children--were all grown up, and well educated, though, as in any other family, their abilities varied.
The willow branch outside the mansion.It has grown into a beautiful tree.
It stands there freely and has not been pruned. "This is our family tree!" said the old couple; the tree should be honored and respected--so they told their children, even the less intelligent ones.
A hundred years have passed.
This is our time.The lake has become a swamp.The old mansion was also gone, and now there was only a rectangular pool with some ruined walls standing on both sides.This is the ruins of that trench.There is also a magnificent old weeping willow standing here.It's the old family tree.This seems to illustrate how beautiful a tree can be if you leave it alone.Of course, its trunk was split from root to top; and the storm had bent it a little.Still it stood firm, and in every breach—into which the wind and rain had sent some earth—growed grass and flowers; Pots and chickweed form a suspended garden.There are even a few sorrel trees growing here; they stand slender over the old willow.When the wind blew the green floating grass into a corner of the pool, the shadow of the old willow appeared on the deep water.A path ran from near the tree into the field.
On a pretty hill near the woods, there was a new house, large and splendid; the panes were so transparent, one might have thought it had no panes at all.The wide steps in front of the gate resembled a flower pavilion of roses and broad-leaved plants.The lawn is so green, it seems that every leaf has been washed sooner or later.Luxurious paintings hung in the hall.The chairs and sofas, upholstered in brocade and velvet, looked as if they could walk by themselves.
There are also tables of polished marble, and books bound in gilded leather.Yes, rich people live here; nobles live here—barons.
Everything is in perfect harmony here.The motto here is: "Everyone in his place!" And so some of the pictures that formerly hung with honor and pomp in the old house now hang in the corridor leading to the servants' quarters.They are rubbish now—especially the two old portraits: one of a gentleman in a pink coat and powdered wig, the other of a lady—whose upswept hair Powdered, she holds a red rose flower in her hand.
They were surrounded by a garland of willow branches.The two paintings are full of round holes, because the little barons often make the two old men a target for their arrows.These two old men were the sheriff and his wife, the ancestors of the family.
"But they don't really belong to the family!" said a little baron.
"He's a peddler and she's a goose girl. They're nothing like Mom and Dad."
These two paintings became worthless waste.So, as they say, they "have their place"!Great-grandfather and great-grandmother were in the corridor leading to the servants' quarters.
The vicar's son was the governess at the mansion.One day he went for a walk with the young barons and their sister, who had just been confirmed.They came up the path behind the old willow tree; and while they were walking the lady made a bouquet of small flowers from the field. "Each in its place", so these flowers also form a beautiful whole.At the same time, she listened to everyone's high-spirited talk.She loved hearing the preacher's son talk about the power of nature, about the great men and women of history.She had a healthy and cheerful disposition, a noble mind and soul, and a heart that loved all that God had made.
They stopped beside an old willow tree.The youngest Baron wished very much to have a flute, for he had once had one carved from a willow branch.The pastor's son broke off a branch.
"Oh, please don't do that!" said the young baroness.Yet this has been done. "This is one of our famous old trees, and I feel very sorry for it! They often laugh at me because of it at home, but I don't care! This tree has a history!"
Then she told all she knew about the tree: about the old mansion, and how the peddler and the goose girl first met there, and how they became this famous family Something about the ancestor of the baroness.
"These two good old men, they don't want to be nobles!" she said, "they live by the motto, 'To each his own;' and so they feel that if they buy a title, it is not worthy of their rank. No. Only their son—our grandfather—was duly made a baron. He was said to be a very learned man, and he was in the company of princes and princesses, and attended their banquets. All the family Everyone liked him very much. But, I don't know why, there was something about that first old couple that held my heart. Life in that old house must have been so quiet and dignified: the mistress and the maids sat and spun together. Yay, the old master is reading the Bible aloud."
"They're a lovely, reasonable couple!" said the vicar's son.
Arriving here, their conversation naturally touched nobles and citizens.The clergyman's son was hardly a bourgeois man, for he knew so well when he spoke of nobles.He said:
"One is lucky to be part of a prestigious family!
Likewise, it is a fortune to have in a man's blood a dynamic which inspires him upwards.It is a beautiful thing for a person to have a family name as a bridge to enter the upper class.Noble means noble.It is a gold coin with its value engraved on it.The tone of our time--and many poets naturally echo it--is: All that is noble is always stupid and worthless; and as for the poor, the poorer they are, the wiser they are.But this is not my opinion, because I think this view is completely wrong and hypocritical.In the upper classes one can find many beautiful and touching features.My mother told me one example, and I could give many others.She went to the city to visit a noble family.My grandmother, I think, was once a wet nurse to that housewife.My mother was sitting in a room with the noble lord one day.He saw an old woman staggering into the house on crutches.
She came every Sunday, and took a few pennies with her when she came. 'This is a poor old woman,' said the master; 'she walks with difficulty! ' Before my mother could understand him, he went out of the room, and ran down the stairs, and went to the poor old woman himself, lest she should go the hard way for a few pennies.This is just a small thing; but, like the widow's penny written in the Bible, it is in the depths of people's hearts, in the meaning of ① the money is small but precious, originally from the New Testament. The Gospel of Mark: "Jesus sat opposite the treasury and watched how the people put money into the treasury. Many rich men put a certain amount of money into it. A poor widow came and put two small coins into it, which was a big coin. Jesus told his disciples to say, Truly, I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all the others. For they all put in it out of their own abundance. But the widow, out of her own poverty, put in all her living All voted on.
There is an echo in human nature.Poets should point out this kind of thing and sing about it, especially in our time, because it will have a good effect, it will convince people's hearts.However, some people, because of their noble pedigree and the birth of a famous family, often like Arabian horses, like to raise their front legs and neigh in the street.As soon as a common man came, he said in the room 'The common people have been here! ’ This shows that the aristocracy is corrupting into a mask of an aristocrat, a mask of the kind created by Desbis.People laugh at this kind of person and regard him as an object of satire. "
Such was the argument of the pastor's son.It is indeed a bit too long, but during this period, the flute was carved.
There are a large number of guests in the mansion.They all came from the surrounding areas and the capital.Some ladies are well dressed and some are not.The big living room was full of people.Some of the clergymen of the neighborhood were huddled respectfully in one corner—it was as though a funeral were going to be held.But this is a happy occasion, but the fun has not yet begun.
There should be a grand concert here.So a young baron took out his willow flute, but he couldn't play it, and neither could his father, so it was useless.
Now there is music, and there is singing, both of which make the singer himself happiest, and that's not bad, of course!
"Are you a musician too?" said a handsome gentleman, who was only his parents' son. "You play this flute, and you carve it yourself. It's genius, and genius sits in a seat of honor and reigns supreme. Oh my God! I'm following the times—everyone That's not right. Oh, please charm us with this little instrument, won't you?"
So he gave the pastor's son the flute carved from the willow branch by the pool.At the same time he announced aloud that the governess was going to play a solo on the instrument.
Now they were going to make fun of him, that was clear.So the governess stopped playing, though he could play very well.But they insisted on him playing, so that at last he took the flute and put it to his mouth.
What a wonderful flute!It made a strange sound, thicker than the whistle of a steam engine.It hovered over yards, circled gardens and forests, and floated far away over fields.Simultaneously with this note came a gust of howling wind, and it howled and said, "Everyone in his place!" And papa flew out of the hall, as if blown by the wind, and landed in the shepherd's room; and the shepherd Flew too, but didn't fly into that hall, because he couldn't go--oh, he flew into the servants' quarters, among the handsome attendants who swaggered about in silk stockings go.The proud servants were dumbfounded and thought: How dare such a lowly figure sit at the table with them.
But in the hall the young baroness flew to the head of the table.
She is entitled to sit here.The pastor's son sat beside her.The two of them sat like this as if they were a newlywed couple.Only one old earl--who belonged to one of the oldest families in the country--remained unmoved in his seat of honor; for the flute is just, and so should men.The good-humoured gentleman--who was only his father's son--the flute-player this time flew headlong into a chicken coop, but he was not there alone.
For more than ten miles in the vicinity, everyone heard the flute and these strange things.The whole family of a wealthy merchant, in a four-horse carriage, had been blown out of the carriage, and there was not even a place to stand behind it.
Two rich peasants who in our time outgrew the wheat in their fields were blown into a mud ditch.This is a dangerous flute!
As luck would have it, it cracked after the first note.That's a good thing, because then it's back in the pocket: "Everyone in his place!"
On the following day, no one mentioned this matter, so we have the idiom "the flute is in the bag".Everything returns to its original place.
Only the portraits of the peddler and the goose girl hung in the great drawing room.They were blown against the wall there.As a true connoisseur has said, they were painted by a master; so they now hang where they should.What value they had was not known before, and how could one know?Now they hang in honor: "Everyone in his place!"
That's how it is!Eternal truths are long - much longer than this story.
① This is an old Danish proverb.The original text reads: Rige Fugl kommer susende!
The free translation is: "The rich travel with great momentum!"
① Thespis (Thespis) was a Greek dramatist in the sixth century BC and the founder of tragedy.
