by Hans Christian Andersen
VERY
often, after a violent thunder-storm, a field of buckwheat appears blackened
and singed, as if a flame of fire had passed over it. The country people say
that this appearance is caused by lightning; but I will tell you what the sparrow
says, and the sparrow heard it from an old willow-tree which grew near a field
of buckwheat, and is there still. It is a large venerable tree, though a little
crippled by age. The trunk has been split, and out of the crevice grass and
brambles grow. The tree bends for-ward slightly, and the branches hang quite
down to the ground just like green hair. Corn grows in the surrounding fields,
not only rye and barley, but oats,-pretty oats that, when ripe, look like a
number of little golden canary-birds sitting on a bough. The corn has a smiling
look and the heaviest and richest ears bend their heads low as if in pious humility.
Once there was also a field of buckwheat, and this field was exactly opposite
to old willow-tree. The buckwheat did not bend like the other grain, but erected
its head proudly and stiffly on the stem. "I am as valuable as any other
corn," said he, "and I am much handsomer; my flowers are as beautiful
as the bloom of the apple blossom, and it is a pleasure to look at us. Do you
know of anything prettier than we are, you old willow-tree?"
And the willow-tree
nodded his head, as if he would say, "Indeed I do."
But the buckwheat
spread itself out with pride, and said, "Stupid tree; he is so old that
grass grows out of his body."
There arose
a very terrible storm. All the field-flowers folded their leaves together, or
bowed their little heads, while the storm passed over them, but the buckwheat
stood erect in its pride. "Bend your head as we do," said the flowers.
"I have
no occasion to do so," replied the buckwheat.
"Bend
your head as we do," cried the ears of corn; "the angel of the storm
is coming; his wings spread from the sky above to the earth beneath. He will
strike you down before you can cry for mercy."
"But
I will not bend my head," said the buckwheat.
"Close
your flowers and bend your leaves," said the old willow-tree. "Do
not look at the lightning when the cloud bursts; even men cannot do that. In
a flash of lightning heaven opens, and we can look in; but the sight will strike
even human beings blind. What then must happen to us, who only grow out of the
earth, and are so inferior to them, if we venture to do so?"
"Inferior,
indeed!" said the buckwheat. "Now I intend to have a peep into heaven."
Proudly and boldly he looked up, while the lightning flashed across the sky
as if the whole world were in flames.
When the dreadful
storm had passed, the flowers and the corn raised their drooping heads in the
pure still air, refreshed by the rain, but the buckwheat lay like a weed in
the field, burnt to blackness by the lightning. The branches of the old willow-tree
rustled in the wind, and large water-drops fell from his green leaves as if
the old willow were weeping. Then the sparrows asked why he was weeping, when
all around him seemed so cheerful. "See," they said, how the sun shines,
and the clouds float in the blue sky. Do you not smell the sweet perfume from
flower and bush? Wherefore do you weep, old willow-tree?" Then the willow
told them of the haughty pride of the buckwheat, and of the punishment which
followed in consequence.
This is the story told me by the sparrows one evening when I begged them to relate some tale to me.