The Dryad Page #3

"The Dryad" is an intricate tale by Danish fairy tale legend, Hans Christian Andersen. The storyline follows a Dryad - a mythological tree spirit - who impatiently longs to explore beyond her solitary existence in a grand ancient tree. Lured by the festive glamour of the Paris exhibition, she abandons her roots only to find the bustling, industrialized city overwhelming and herself feeling lost and homesick. In this narrative, Andersen explores themes of nature, industrialization, alienation, and longing.

• Children

								

out, drawn by many horses, and the tree was lifted up, with its
roots and the lumps of earth that adhered to them; matting was
placed around the roots, as though the tree had its feet in a warm
bag. And now the tree was lifted on the wagon and secured with chains.
The journey began--the journey to Paris. There the tree was to grow as
an ornament to the city of French glory.

The twigs and the leaves of the chestnut tree trembled in the
first moments of its being moved; and the Dryad trembled in the
pleasurable feeling of expectation.

"Away! away!" it sounded in every beat of her pulse. "Away!
away" sounded in words that flew trembling along. The Dryad forgot
to bid farewell to the regions of home; she thought not of the
waving grass and of the innocent daisies, which had looked up to her
as to a great lady, a young Princess playing at being a shepherdess
out in the open air.

The chestnut tree stood upon the wagon, and nodded his branches;
whether this meant "farewell" or "forward," the Dryad knew not; she
dreamed only of the marvellous new things, that seemed yet so
familiar, and that were to unfold themselves before her. No child's
heart rejoicing in innocence--no heart whose blood danced with
passion--had set out on the journey to Paris more full of
expectation than she.

Her "farewell" sounded in the words "Away! away!"

The wheels turned; the distant approached; the present vanished.
The region was changed, even as the clouds change. New vineyards,
forests, villages, villas appeared--came nearer--vanished!

The chestnut tree moved forward, and the Dryad went with it.
Steam-engine after steam-engine rushed past, sending up into the air
vapory clouds, that formed figures which told of Paris, whence they
came, and whither the Dryad was going.

Everything around knew it, and must know whither she was bound. It
seemed to her as if every tree she passed stretched out its leaves
towards her, with the prayer--"Take me with you! take me with you!"
for every tree enclosed a longing Dryad.

What changes during this flight! Houses seemed to be rising out of
the earth--more and more--thicker and thicker. The chimneys rose
like flower-pots ranged side by side, or in rows one above the
other, on the roofs. Great inscriptions in letters a yard long, and
figures in various colors, covering the walls from cornice to
basement, came brightly out.

"Where does Paris begin, and when shall I be there?" asked the
Dryad.

The crowd of people grew; the tumult and the bustle increased;
carriage followed upon carriage; people on foot and people on
horseback were mingled together; all around were shops on shops, music
and song, crying and talking.

The Dryad, in her tree, was now in the midst of Paris. The great
heavy wagon all at once stopped on a little square planted with trees.
The high houses around had all of them balconies to the windows,
from which the inhabitants looked down upon the young fresh chestnut
tree, which was coming to be planted here as a substitute for the dead
tree that lay stretched on the ground.

The passers-by stood still and smiled in admiration of its pure
vernal freshness. The older trees, whose buds were still closed,
whispered with their waving branches, "Welcome! welcome!" The
fountain, throwing its jet of water high up in the air, to let it fall
again in the wide stone basin, told the wind to sprinkle the new-comer
with pearly drops, as if it wished to give him a refreshing draught to
welcome him.

The Dryad felt how her tree was being lifted from the wagon to
be placed in the spot where it was to stand. The roots were covered
with earth, and fresh turf was laid on top. Blooming shrubs and
flowers in pots were ranged around; and thus a little garden arose
in the square.

The tree that had been killed by the fumes of gas, the steam of
kitchens, and the bad air of the city, was put upon the wagon and
driven away. The passers-by looked on. Children and old men sat upon
the bench, and looked at the green tree. And we who are telling this
story stood upon a balcony, and looked down upon the green spring
sight that had been brought in from the fresh country air, and said,
what the old clergyman would have said, "Poor Dryad!"

"I am happy! I am happy!" the Dryad cried, rejoicing; "and yet I
cannot realize, cannot describe what I feel. Everything is as I
fancied it, and yet as I did not fancy it."

The houses stood there, so lofty, so close! The sunlight shone
on only one of the walls, and that one was stuck over with bills and
placards, before which the people stood still; and this made a crowd.

Carriages rushed past, carriages rolled past; light ones and heavy
ones mingled together. Omnibuses, those over-crowded moving houses,
came rattling by; horsemen galloped among them; even carts and
wagons asserted their rights.

The Dryad asked herself if these high-grown houses, which stood so
close around her, would not remove and take other shapes, like the
clouds in the sky, and draw aside, so that she might cast a glance
into Paris, and over it. Notre Dame must show itself, the Vendome
Column, and the wondrous building which had called and was still
calling so many strangers to the city.

But the houses did not stir from their places. It was yet day when
the lamps were lit. The gas-jets gleamed from the shops, and shone
even into the branches of the trees, so that it was like sunlight in
summer. The stars above made their appearance, the same to which the
Dryad had looked up in her home. She thought she felt a clear pure
stream of air which went forth from them. She felt herself lifted up
and strengthened, and felt an increased power of seeing through
every leaf and through every fibre of the root. Amid all the noise and
the turmoil, the colors and the lights, she knew herself watched by
mild eyes.

From the side streets sounded the merry notes of fiddles and
wind instruments. Up! to the dance, to the dance! to jollity and
pleasure! that was their invitation. Such music it was, that horses,
carriages, trees, and houses would have danced, if they had known how.
The charm of intoxicating delight filled the bosom of the Dryad.

"How glorious, how splendid it is!" she cried, rejoicingly. "Now I
am in Paris!"

The next day that dawned, the next night that fell, offered the
same spectacle, similar bustle, similar life; changing, indeed, yet
always the same; and thus it went on through the sequence of days.

"Now I know every tree, every flower on the square here! I know
every house, every balcony, every shop in this narrow cut-off
corner, where I am denied the sight of this great mighty city. Where
are the arches of triumph, the Boulevards, the wondrous building of
the world? I see nothing of all this. As if shut up in a cage, I stand
among the high houses, which I now know by heart, with their
inscriptions, signs, and placards; all the painted confectionery, that
is no longer to my taste. Where are all the things of which I heard,
for which I longed, and for whose sake I wanted to come hither? what
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes