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      THE BOTTLE-NECK

       

      IN a narrow crooked street,among other abodes of poverty,stood an especially narrow and tall house huilt of timber,which had given way in every directionThe house was inhabited by poor people,and the deepest poverty was in the garret-lodging in the gable,where,in front of the only window,hung an old bent birdcage,which had not even a proper water-glass,but only a Bottle-neck reversed,with a cork stuck in the mouth,and filled with waterAn old maid stood by the windowshe had hung the cage with green chickweed;and a little chaffinch hopped from perch to perch,and sang and twittered merrily enough

      Yes,it's all very will for you to sing,”said the Bottle-neck;that is to say,it did not pronounce the words as we can speak them,for a bottle-neck can't speak;but that's what he thought to himself in his own mind,as when we people talk quietly to ourselves.“Yes,it's all very well for you to sing,you that have all your limbs uninjuredYou ought to feel what it's like to lose one's body,and to have only mouth and neck left,and that with a cork into the bargain,as in my case;and then I'm sure you would not singBut after all it is well that there should be somebody at least who is merryI've no reason to sing,and,moreover,I can't singYes,when I was a whole bottle,I sang out well if they rubbed me with a corkThey used to call me a perfect lart,a magnificent lark!Ah,when I was out at a picnic with the tanner's family,and his daughter was betrothed!Yes,I remember it as if it had happened only yesterdayI have gone through a great deal,When I come to recollectI've been in the fire and the water,have been deep in the black earth,and have mounted higher than most of the others;and now I'm hanging here,outside the birdcage,in the air and the sunshine!Oh,it would be quite worth while to hear my history;but I don't speak aloud of it,because I can't.”

      And now the Bottleneck told its story,which was sufficiently remarkableIt told the story to itself,or only thought it in its own mind;and the little bird sang his song merrily,and down in the street there was driving and burrying,and every one thought of his own affairs,or perhaps of nothing at all;but the Bottle-neck did thinkIt thought of the flaming furnace in the manufactory,where it had been blown into life;it still remembered that it had been quite warm,that it had glanced into the hiss-in furnace,the home of its origin,and had felt a great desire to leap directly back again;but that gradually it had become cooler,and had been very comfortable in the place to which it was takenIt had stood in a rank with a whole regiment of brothers and sisters,all out of the same furnace;some of them had certainly been blown into champagne bottles,and others into beer bottles,and that makes a differenceLater,out in the world,it may well happen that a beer bottle may contain the most precious wine,and a champagne bottle be filled with blacking;but even in decay there is always something left by which people can see what one has beennobility is nobility,even when filled with blacking

      All the bottles were packed up,and our bottle was among themAt that time it did not think to finish its career as a bottle-neck,or that it should work its way up to be a bird's glass,which is always an honourable thing,for one is of some consequence,after allThe bottle did not again behold the light of day till it was unpacked with the other bottles in the cellar of the wine merchant,and rinsed out for the first time;and that was a strange sensationThere it lay,empty and without a cork,and felt strangely unwell,as if it wanted something,it could not tell whatAt last it was filled with good costly wine,and was provided with a cork,and sealed downA ticket was placed on it markedfirst quality”;and it felt as if it had carried off the first prize at an examination;for,you see,the wine was good and the bottle was goodWhen one is young,that's the time for poetry!There was a singing and sounding within it,of things which it could not understandof green sunny mountains,whereon the grape grows,where many vine dressers,men and women,sing and dance and rejoice.“Ah,how beautiful is life!”There was a singing and sounding of all this in the bottle,as in a young poet's brain;and many a young poet does not understand the meaning of the song that is within him

      One morning the bottle was bought,for the tanner's apprentice was dispatched for a bottle of wine—“of the best.”And now it was put in the provision basket,with ham and cheese and sausages;the finest butter and the best bread were put into the basket toothe tanner's daughter herself packed itShe was young and very pretty;her brown eyes laughed,and round her mouth played a smile which said just as much as her eyesShe had delicate hands,beautifully white,and her neck was whiter still;you saw at once that she was one of the most beautiful girls in the townand still she was not engaged

      The provision basket was in the lap of the young girl when the family drove out into the forestThe bottle-neck looked out from the folds of the white napkinThere was red wax upon the cork,and the bottle looked straight into the girl's faceIt also looked at the young sailor who sat next to the girlHe was a friend of old days,the son of the portrait painterQuite lately he had passed with honour through his examination as mate,and tomorrow he was to sail away in a ship,far off to a distant landThere had been much talk of this while the basket was being packed;and certainly the eves and mouth of the tanner's pretty daughter did not wear a very joyous expression just then

      The young people sauntered through the greenwood,and talked to one anotherWhat were they talking of?No,the bottle could not hear that,for it was in the provision basketA long time passed before it was drawn forth;but when that happened,there had been pleasant things going on,for all were laughing,and the tanner's daughter laughed too;but she spoke less than before,and her cheeks glowed like two roses

      The father took the full bottle and the corkscrew in his handYes,it's a strange thing to be drawn thus,the first time!The Bottle-neck could never afterwards forget that impressive moment;and indeed there was quite a con-vulsion within him when the cork flew out,and a great throbbing as the wine poured forth into the glasses

      Health to the betrothed pair!”cried the papaAnd every glass was emptied to the bottom,and the young mate kissed his beautiful bride

      Happiness and blessing!said the two old peopleAnd the young man filled the glasses again

      Safe return,and a wedding this day next year!”he cried;and when the glasses were emptied,he took the bottle,raised it on high,and said,“The hast been pre-sent at the happiest day of my life,thou shalt never serve another!”

      And so saying,he hurled it high into the airThe tanner's daughter did not then think that she should see the bottle fly again;and yet it was to be soIt then fell into the thick reeds on the margin of a little woodland lake;and the Bottle-neck could remember quite plainly how it lay there for some,time

      I gave them wine,and they give me marsh water,”he said:“but it is well meant.”

      He could no longer see the betrothed couple and the cheerful old peoples;but for a long time be could hear them rejoicing and singingThen at last came two peasant boys,and looked into the reeds;they spied out the bottle,and took it up;and now it was provided for

      At their home,in the wooden cottage,the eldest of three brothers,who was a sailor,and about to start on a long voyage,had been the day before to take leaveThe mother was just engaged in packing up various things he was to take with him upon his journey,and which the father was going to carry into the town that evening to see his son once more,to give him a farewell greeting from the lad's mother and himself,and a little bottle of medicated brandy had already been wrapped up in a parcel,when the boys came in with the larger and stronger bottle which they had foundThis bottle would hold more than the little one,and they pronounced that the brandy would be capital for a bad digestion,inasmuch as it was mixed with medical herbsThe draught that was poured into the bottle was not so good as the red wine with which it had once been filled;these were bitter thoughts,but even these are sometimes goodThe new big bottle was to go,and not the little one;and so the bottle went travelling againIt was taken on board for Peter Jensen,in the very same ship in which the young mate sailedBut he did not see the bottle;and,indeed,he would not have known it,or thought it was the same one out of which had been drunk a health to the betrothed pair and to his own happy return

      Certainly it had no longer wine to give,but still it contained something that was just as goodAccordingly,whenever Peter Jensen brought it out,it was dubbed by his messmates The ApothecaryIt contained the best medicine,medicine that strengthened the weak,and it gave liberally so long as it hid a drop leftThat was a pleasant time,and the bottle sang when it was rubbed with the cork;and it was called the Great Lark,“Peter Jensen's Lark.”

      Long days and months rolled on,and the bottle al-ready stood empty in a corner,when it happenedwhether on the passage out or home the bottle could not tell,for it had never been ashorethat a storm arose;great waves came careering along,darkly and heavily,and lifted and tossed the ship to and froThe mainmast was shivered,and a wave started one of the planks,and the pumps became uselessIt was black nightThe ship sank;but at the last moment the young mate wrote on a leaf of paper,“God's will be done!We are sinking!”He wrote the name of his betrothed,and his own name,and that of the ship,and put the leaf in an empty bottle that happened to be at handhe corked it firmly down,and threw it out into the foaming seaHe knew not that it was the very bottle from which the goblet of joy and hope had once been filled for him and for her;and now it was tossing on the waves with his last greeting and the message of death

      The ship sank,and the crew sank with herThe bottle sped on like a bird,for it bore a heart,a loving letter,within itselfAnd the sun rose and set;and the bottle felt as at the timewhen it first came into being in the red gleaming ovenit felt a strong desire to leap back into the light

      It experienced calms and fresh storms;but it was hurled against no rock,and was devoured by no shark;and thus it drifted on for a year and a day,sometimes towards the north,sometimes towards the south,just as the current carried itBeyond this it was its own master,but one may grow tired even of that

      The written page,the last farewell of the sweetheart to his betrothed,would only bring sorrow if it came into her hands;but where were the hands,so white and delicate,which had once spread the cloth on the fresh grass in the greenwood,on the betrothal day?Where was the tanner's daughter?Yes,where was the land,and which land might be nearest to ber dwelling?The bottle knew not;it drove onward and onward,and was at last tired of wandering,because that was not in its way;but yet it had to travel until at last it came to landto a strange landIt understood not a word of what was spoken here,for this was not the language it had heard spoken before;and one loses a good deal if one does not understand the language

      The bottle was fished out and examinedThe leaf of paper within it was discovered,and taken out,and turned over and over,but the people did not understand what was written thereonThey saw that the bottle must have been thrown overboard,and that something about this was written on the paper,but what were the words?That question remained unanswered,and the paper was put back into the bottle,and the latter was deposited in a great cupboard in a great room in a great house

      Whenever strangers came,the paper was brought out and turned over and over,so that the inscription,which was only written in pencil,became more and more illegible,so that at last no one could see that there were letters on itAnd for a whole year more the bottle remained standing in the cupboard;and then it was put into the loft,where it became covered with dust and cobwebsThen it thought of the better days,the times when it had poured forth red wine in the greenwood,when it had been rocked on the waves of the sea,and when it had carried a secret,a letter,a parting sigh

      For full twenty years it stood up in the loft;and it might have remained there longer,but that the house was to be rebuiltThe roof was taken off,and then the bottle was noticed,and they spoke about it,but it did not understand their language;for one cannot learn a language by being shut up in a loft,even if one stays there twenty years

      If I had been down in the room,”thought the Bottle,“I might have learned it.”

      It was now washed and rinsed,and indeed this was requisiteIt felt quite transparent and fresh,and as if its youth had been renewed in this its old age;but the paper it had carried so faithfully had been destroyed in the wash-in

      The bottle was filled with seeds,it did not know the kindIt was corked and well wrapped upIt saw neither lantern nor candle,to say nothing of sun or moon;and yet,it thought,when one goes on a journey one ought to see something;but though it saw nothing,it did what was most importantit travelled to the place of its destination,and was there unpacked

      What trouble they have taken over yonder with that bottle!”it heard people say;“and yet it is most likely broken.”But it was not broken

      The bottle understood every word that was now said;this was the language it had heard at the furnace,and at the wine merchant's,and in the forest,and in the ship,the only good old language it understoodit had come back home,and the language was as a salutation of welcome to itFor very joy it felt ready to jump out of people's hands;hardly did it notice that its cork had been drawn,and that it had been emptied and carried into the cellar,to be placed there and forgottenThere's no place like home,even if it's in a cellar!It never occurred to the bottle to think how long it lay there,for it felt comfortable,and ac-cordingly lay there for yearsAt last people came down into the cellar to carry off all the bottles,and ours among the rest

      Out in the garden there was a great festivalFlaming lamps hung like garlands,and paper lanterns shone transparent,like great tulipsThe evening was lovely,the weather still and clear,the stars twinkled;it was the time of the new moon,but in reality the whole moon could be seen as a bluishgrey disk with a golden rim round half its surface,which was a very beautiful sight for those who had good eyes

      The illumination extended even to the most retired of the garden walks;at least,so much of it that one could find one's way thereAmong the leaves of the bedges stood bottles,with a light in each;and among them was also the bottle we know,and which was destined one day to finish its career as a bottle-neck,a bird's drinking-glass

      Everything here appeared lovely to our bottle,for it was once more in the greenwood,amid joy and feasting,and heard song and music,and the noise and murmur of a crowd,especially in that part of the garden where the lamps blazed and the paper lanterns displayed their many coloursThus it stood,in a distant walk certainly,but that made it the more important;for it bore its light,and was at once ornamental and useful,and that is as it should bein such an hour one forgets twenty years spent in a loft,and it is right one should do so

      There passed close to it a pair,like the pair who had walked together long ago in the wood,the sailor and the tanner's daughter;the bottle seemed to experience all that over againIn the garden were walking not only the guests,but other people who were allowed to view all the splendour;and among these latter came an old maid with-out kindred,but not without friendsShe was just think-in,like the bottle,of the greenwood,and of a young betrothed pairof a pair which concerned her very nearly,a pair in which she had an interest,and of which she had been a part in that happiest hour of her lifethe hour one never forgets,if one should become ever so old a maidBut she did not know the bottle,and it did not know herit is thus we pass each other in the world,meeting again and again,as these two met,now that they were together again in the same town

      From the garden the bottle was dispatched once more to the wine merchant's,where it was filled with wine and sold to the aeronaut,who was to make an ascent in his balloon on the following SundayA great crowd had as-sembled to witness the sight;military music had been provided,and many other preparations had been madeThe bottle saw everything from a basket in which it lay next to a live rabbit,which latter was quite bewildered because he knew he was to be taken up into the air,and let down again in a parachute;but the bottle knew nothing of theupor thedown”;it only saw the balloon swelling up bigger and bigger,and at last,when it could swell no more,beginning to rise,and to grow more and more restlessThe ropes that held it were cut,and the huge machine floated aloft with the aeronaut and the bas-ket containing the bottle and the rabbit,and the music sounded,and all the people cried,“Hurrah!”

      This is a wonderful passage,up into the air!”thought the Bottle;“this is a new way of sailingat any rate,up here we cannot strike upon anything.”

      Thousands of people gazed up at the balloon,and theold maid looked up at it also;she stood at the open window of the garret,in which hung the cage,with the little chaffinch,who had no water-glass as yet,but was obliged to be content with an old cupIn the window stood a myrtle in a pot;and it had been put a little aside that it might not fall out,for the old maid was leaning out of the window to look,and she distinctly saw the aeronaut in the balloon,and how he let down the rabbit in the parachute,and then drank to the health of all the spectators,and at length hurled the bottle high in the air;she never thought that this was the identical bottle which she had already once seen thrown aloft in honour of her and of her friend on the day of rejoicing in the greenwood,in the time of her youth

      The bottle had no time for thought,for it was quite startled at thus suddenly reaching the highest point in its careerSteeples and roofs lay far,far beneath,and the people looked like mites

      But now it began to descend with a much more rapid fall than that of the rabbit;the bottle threw somersaults in the air,and felt quite young,and quite free and unfettered;and yet it was half full of wine,though it did not remain so for longWhat a journey!The sun shone on the bottle,all the people were looking at it;the balloon was already far away,and soon the bottle was far away too,for it fell upon a roof and broke;but the pieces had got such an impetus that they could not stop themselves,but went jumping and rolling on till they came down into the court-yard and lay there in smaller pieces yet;only the Bottle-neck managed to keep whole,and that was cut off as if it had been done with a diamond

      That would do capitally for a bird-glass.”said the cellar-man;but he had neither a bird nor a cage;and to expect him to provide both because they had found a bottleneck that might be made available for a glass,would have been expecting too much;but the old maid in the garret,perhaps it might be useful to her;and now the Bottle-neck was taken up to her,and was provided with a corkThe part that had been uppermost was now turned downwards,as often happens when changes take place;fresh water was poured into it,and it was fastened to the cage of the little bird,which sang and twittered right merrily

      Yes,it's very well for you to sing,”said the Bottleneck

      And it was considered remarkable for having been in the balloonfor that was all they knew of its historyNow it hung there as a bird-glass,and heard the murmur-in and noise of the people in the street below,and also the words of the old maid in the room withinAn old friend had just come to visit her,and they talkednot of the Bottle-neck,but about the myrtle in the window

      No,you certainly must not spend two dollars for your daughter's bridal wreath,”said the old maid.“You shall have a beautiful little nosegay from me,full of blossomsDo you see how splendidly that tree has come on?Yes,that has been raised from a spray of the myrtle you gave me on the day after my betrothal,and from which I was to have made my own wreath when the year was past;but that day never came!The eyes closed that were to have been my joy and delight through lifeIn the depths of the sea he sleeps sweetly,my dear one!The myrtle has become an old tree,and I have become a yet older woman;and when it faded at last,I took the last green shoot,and planted it in the ground,and it has become a great tree;and now at length the myrtle will serve at the weddingas a wreath for your daughter.”

      There were tears in the eyes of the old maidShe spoke of the beloved of her youth,of their betrothal in the wood;many thoughts came to her,but the thought never came that,quite close to her,before the very window,was a remembrance of those timesthe neck of the bottle which had shouted for joy when the cork flew out with a bang on the betrothal dayBut the Bottleneck did not recognize her either,for he was not listening to what she saidpartly because it only thought about itself

       


       

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