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      THAT was a remarkably fine dinner yesterday,”Boserved an old Mouse of the female sex to another who had not been at the festive gathering.“I sat number twenty-one from the old Mouse King,so that I was not hadly placedShould you like to hear the order of the banquet?The courses were very well arrangedmouldy bread,bacon rind,tallow candle,and sausageand then the same dishes over again from the beginningit was just as good as having two banquets on endThere was as much joviality and agreeable jesting as in the family circleNothing was left but the pegs at the ends of the sausagesAnd the discourse turned upon these;and at last the expression,‘Soup on a sausage-peg,’was mentionedEvery one had heard the proverb,but no one had ever tasted the sausage-peg soup,much less knew how to prepare itA capital toast was drunk to the inventor of the soup,and it was said he deserved to be a relieving officerWas not that witty?And the old Mouse King stood up,and promised that the young mouse who could best prepare that soup should be his queen;and a year was allowed for the trial.”

      That was not at all bad,”said the other Mouse;“but how does one prepare this soup?”

      Ah,how is prepared?”That is just what all the young female nuce,and the old ones too,are askingThey would all very much like to be queen;but they don't want to take the trouble to go out into the world to learn how to prepare the soup,and that they would certainly have to doBut every one has not the gift of leaving the family circle and the chimney cornerAway from home one can't get cheese rinds and bacon every dayNo,one must bear hunger,and perhaps be eaten up alive by a cat.”

      Such were no doubt the thoughts by which most of them were scared from going out to gain informationOnly four Mice announced themselves ready to departThey were young and brisk,but poorEach of them would go to one of the four quarters of the globe,and then it was a question which of them was favoured by fortuneEvery one took a sausage-peg,so as to keep in mind the object of the journeyThis was to be their pilgrim's staff

      It was at the beginning of May that they set out,and they did not return till the May of the following year;and then only three of them appearedThe fourth did not report herself,nor was there any intelligence of her,though the day of trial was close at hand

      Yes,there's always some drawback in even the pleasantest affair,”said the Mouse King

      And then he gave orders that all mice within a circuit of many miles should be invitedThey were to assemble in the kitchen,the three travelled Mice stood in a row by themselves,while a sausage-peg,shrouded in crape,was set up as a memento of the fourth,who was missingNo one was to proclaim his opinion before the three had spoken and the Mouse King had settled what was to be said furtherAnd now let us hear






      When I went out into the wide world,”said the little Mouse,“I thought,as many think at my age,that I had already learned everything;but that was not the caseYears must pass before one gets so farI went to sea at onceI went in a ship that steered towards the northThey had told me that the ship's cook must know how to manage things at sea;but it is easy enough to manage things when one has plenty of sides of bacon,and whole tubs of salt pork,and mouldy flourOne has delicate living on board;but one does not learn to prepare soup on a sausage-pegWe sailed along for many days and nights;the ship rocked fearfully,and we did not get off without a wettingWhen we at last reached the port to which we were bound,I left the ship;and it was high up in the far north

      It is a wonderful thing,to go out of one's own corner at home,and sail in a ship,where one has a sort of corner too,and then suddenly to find oneself hundreds of miles away in a strange landI saw great pathless forests of pine and birch,which smelt so strong that I sneezed,and thought of sausageThere were great lakes there tooWhen I came close to them the waters were quite clear,but from a distance they looked black as inkWhite swans floated upon themI thought at first they were spots of foam,they lay so still;but then I saw them walk and fly,and I recognized themThey belong to the goose familyone can see that by their walk;for no one can deny his parentageI kept with my own kindI associated with the forest and field mice,who,by the way,know very little,especially as regards cookery,though this was the very thing that had brought me abroadThe thought that soup might be boiled on a sausage-peg was such a startling idea to them,that it flew at once from mouth to mouth through the whole forestThey declared the problem could never be solved;and little did I think that there,on the very first night,I should be initiated into the method of its preparationIt was in the height of summer,and that,the mice said,was the reason why the wood smelt so strongly,and why the herbs were so fragrant,and the lakes so clear and yet so dark,with the white swans on them

      On the margin of the wood,among three or four houses,a pole as tall as the mainmast of a ship had been erected,and from its summit hung wreaths and ribbonsthis was called a maypoleMen and maids danced round the pole,and sang as loudly as they could,to the violin of the fiddlerThere were merry doings at sundown and in the moonlight,but I took no part in themwhat has a little mouse to do with a May dance?I sat in the soft moss and held my sausage-peg fastThe moon shone especially upon one spot,where a tree stood,covered with moss so fine that I may almost venture to say it was as fine as the skin of the Mouse King;but it was of a green colour,so that it was a great relief to the eye

      All at once,the most charming little people came marching forthThey were only tall enough to reach to my kneeThey looked like men,but were better proportionedthey called themselves elves,and had delicate clothes on,of flower leaves trimmed with the wings of flies and gnats,which had a very good appearanceDirectly they appeared,they seemed to be seeking for somethingI knew not what;but at last some of them came towards me,and the chief pointed to my sausage-peg,and said,‘That is just such a one as we wantit is pointedit is capital!’and the longer he looked at my pilgrim's staff the more delight-ed he became

      “‘I will lend it,’I said,‘but not to keep

      “‘Not to keep!'they all repeated;and they seized the sausage-peg,which I gave up to them,and danced away to the spot where the fine moss grew;and here they set up the peg in the midst of the greenThey wanted to have a maypole of their own,and the one they now had,seemed cut out for them;and they decorated it so that it was beautiful to behold

      First,little spiders spun it round with gold thread,and hung it all over with fluttering veils and flags,so finely woven,bleached so snowy white in the moonshine,that they dazzled my eyesThey took colours from the butterfly's wing,and strewed these over the white linen,and flowers and diamonds gleamed upon it,so that I did not know my sausage-peg againthere is not in all the world such a maypole as they had made of itAnd now came the real great party of elvesThey were quite without clothes,and looked as dainty as possible;and they invited me to be present;but I was to keep at a distance,for I was too large for them

      And now began such music!It sounded like thousands of glass bells,so full,so rich,that I thought the swans were singingI fancied also that I heard the voice of the cuckoo and the blackbird,and at last the whole forest seemed to join inI heard children's voices,the sound of bells,and the song of birds;the most glorious melodiesand all came from the elves' maypole,namely,my sausagepegI should never have believed that so much could come out of it;but that depends very much upon the hands into which it fallsI was quite touchedI wept,as a little mouse may weep,with pure pleasure

      The night was far too short;but it is not longer up yonder at that seasonIn the morning dawn the breeze began to blow,the mirror of the forest lake was covered with ripples,and all the delicate veils and flags fluttered away in the airThe waving garlands of spiders’ web,the hanging bridges and balustrades,and whatever else they are called,flew away as if they were nothing at allSix elves brought me back my sausagepeg,and asked me at the same time if I had any wish that they could gratify;so I asked them if they could tell me how soup was made on a sausage-peg

      “‘How we do it?’asked the chief of the elves,with a smile.‘Why,you have just seen itI fancy you hardly knew your sausagepeg again?

      “‘You only mean that as a joke,’I repliedAnd then I told them in so many words,why I had undertaken a journey,and what hopes were founded on it at home.‘What advantage,’I asked,‘can it be to our Mouse King,and to our whole powerful state,from the fact of my having witnessed all this festivity?I cannot shake it out of the sausagepeg,and say,‘Look,here is the peg,now the soup will come.’that would be a dish that could only be put on the table when the guests had dined.’

      Then the elf dipped his little finger into the cup of a blue violet,and said to me,

      “‘See here!I will anoint your pilgrim's staff;and when you go back home to the castle of the Mouse King,you have but to touch his warm breast with the staff,and violets will spring forth and cover its whole staff,even in the coldest winter-timeAnd so I think I've given you something to carry home,and a little more than something!

      But before the little Mouse said what thissomething morewas,she stretched her staff out towards the King's breast,and in very truth the most beautiful bunch of violets burst forth;and the scent was so powerful that the Mouse King incontinently ordered the mice who stood nearest the chimney to thrust their tails into the fire and create a smell of burning,for the odour of the violets was not to be borne,and was not of the kind he liked

      But what was the something more’,of which you spoke?”asked the Mouse King

      Why,”the little Mouse answered,“I think it is what they call effect!”and herewith she turned the staff round,and Loa!there was not a single flower to be seen upon it;she only held the naked skewer,and lifted this up like a music baton.“‘Violets,’the elf said to me,‘are for sight,and smell,and touchTherefore it yet remains to provide for hearing and taste!’”

      And now the little Mouse began to beat time;and music was heard,not such as sounded in the forest among the elves,but such as is heard in the kitchenThere was a bubbling sound of boiling and roasting;and all at once it seemed as if the sound were rushing through every chimney,and pots or kettles were boiling overThe fire-shovel hammered upon the brass kettle,and then,on a sudden,all was quiet againThey heard the quiet subdued song of the teakettle,and it was wonderful to hearthey could not quite tell if the kettle were beginning to sing or leaving off;and the little pot simmered,and the big pot simmered,and neither cared for the otherthere seemed to be no reason at all in the potsAnd the little Mouse flourished her baton more and more wildly;the pots foamed,threw up large bubbles,boiled over,and the wind roared and whistled through the chimneyOh!it became so terrible that the little Mouse lost her stick at last

      That was a heavy soup!”said the Mouse King.“Shall we not soon hear about the preparation?”

      That was all,”said the little Mouse,with a bow

      That all!Then we should be glad to hear what the next has to relate,”said the Mouse King





      I was born in the palace library,”said the second Mouse.“I and several members of our family never knew the happiness of getting into the dining-room,much less into the store-room;on my journey,and here today,are the only times I have seen a kitchenWe have indeed of-ten been compelled to suffer hunger in the library,but we got a good deal of knowledgeThe rumour penetrated even to us,of the royal pnize offered to those who could cook soup upon a sausage-peg;and it was my old grandmother who thereupon ferreted out a manuscript,which she certainly could not read,but which she had heard read out,and in which it was written:‘Those who are poets can boil soup upon a sausage-peg'she asked me if I were a poetI felt quite innocent of that,and then she told me I must go out,and manage to become oneI again asked what was required for that,for it was as difficult for me to find that out as to prepare the soup;but grandmother had heard a good deal of reading,and she said that there things were especially necessary:‘Understanding,imagination,feelingif you can go and get these into you,you are a poet,and the sausage-peg affair will be quite easy to you

      And I went forth,and marched towards the west,away into the wide world,to become a poet.”

      Understanding is the most important thing in every affairI knew that,for the two other things are not held in half such respect,and consequently I went out first to seek understandingYes,where does that dwell?‘Go to the ant and be wise,'said the great King of the Jews;I knew that from the library;and I never stopped till I came to the first great anthill,and there I placed myself on the watch,to become wise

      The ants are a respectable peopleThey are understanding itselfEverything with them is like a wellworked sum,that comes rightTo word and to lay eggs,they say,is to live while you live,and to provide for posterity;and accordingly that is what they doThey were divided into the clean and the dirty antsThe rank of each is indicated by a number,and the ant queen is number ONE;and her view is the only correct one,she has absorbed all wisdom;and that was important for me to know

      She spoke so much,and it was all so clever,that it sounded to me like nonsenseShe declared her anthill was the loftiest thing in the world;though close by it grew a tree,which was certainly loftier,much loftier,that could not be denied,and therefore it was never mentionedOne evening an ant had lost herself upon the tree;she had crept up the stemnot up to the crown,but higher than any ant had climbed until then;and when she turned,and came back home,she talked of something far higher than the anthill that she had found;but the other ants considered that an insult to the whole community,and consequently she was condemned to wear a muzzle,and to continual solitary confinement

      But a short timeafterwards another ant got on the tree,and made the same journey and the same discoveryand this one spoke about it with caution and indefiniteness,as they said;and as,moreover,she was one of the pure ants and very much respected,they believed her;and when she died they erected an egg-shell as a memorial of her,for they had a great respect for the sciences.”

      I saw,”continued the little Mouse,“that the ants are always running to and fro with their eggs on their backsOne of them once dropped her egg;she exerted herself greatly to pick it up again,but she could not succeedThen two others came up,and helped her with all their might,in so much that they nearly dropped their own eggs over it;but then they stopped helping at once,for each should think of himself firstthe ant queen had declared that by so doing they exhibited at once heart and under-standing

      These two qualities,”she said,“place us ants on the highest step among all reasoning beingsUnderstandin must and shall be the predominant thing,and I have the greatest share of understanding.”And so saying,she raised herself on herself on her hind legs,so that she was easily to be recognizedI could not be mistaken,and I ate her upGo to the ant and be wiseand I had got the queen!

      I now proceeded nearer to the beforementioned lofty treeIt was an oak,and had a great trunk and a farspreading top,and was very oldI knew that a living bein dwelt here,a Dryad as it is called,who is born with the tree,and dies with itI had heard about this in the library;and now I saw an oak tree and an oak girlShe uttered a piercing cry when she saw me so nearLike all females,she was very much afraid of mice;and she had more ground for fear than others,for I might have gnawed through the stem of the tree on which her life dependedI spoke to her in a friendly and intimate way,and bade her take courageAnd she took me up in her delicate hand;and when I had told her my reason for coming out into the wide world,she promised me that perhaps on that very evening I should have one of the two treasures of which I was still in quest.“She told me that Phantasy was her very good friend,that he was beautiful as the god of love,and that he rested many an hour under the leafy boughs of the tree,which then rustled more strongly than ever over the pair of themHe called her his Dryad,she said,and the tree his tree,for the grand gnarled oak was just to his taste,with its root burrowing so deep in the earth and the stem and crown rising so high out in the fresh air,and knowing the beating snow,and the sharp wind,and the warm sunshine,as they deserve to be known.‘Yes,'the Dryad continued,‘the birds sing aloft there and tell of strange countries;and on the only dead bough the stork has built a nest which is highly ornamental,and,moreover,one gets to hear something of the land of the pyramidsAll that is very pleasing to Phantasy;but it is not enough for himI myself must tell him of life in the woodswhen I was little,and the tree such a delicate thing that a stinging-nettle overshadowed itand I have to tell everything,till now that the tree is great and strongSit you down under the green woodruff,and pay attention;and when Phantasy cornes,I shall find an opportunity to pinch his wings,and to pull out a little featherTake thatno better is given to any poetand it will be enough for you!’

      And when Phantasy came the feather was plucked,and I seized it,”said the little Mouse.“I held it in water,till it grew softIt was very hard to digest,but I nibbled it up at lastIt is not at all easy to gnaw oneself into being a poet,there are so many things one must take into oneselfNow I had these two things,imagination and understandin,and through these I knew that the third was to be found in the library;for a great man has said and written that there are romances whose sole and single use is that they relieve people of their superfluous tears,and that they are,in fact,like sponges sucking up human emotionI remembered a few of these old books,which had always looked especially palatable,and were much thumbed and very greasy,having evidently absorbed a great deal of feel-in into themselves

      I betook myself back to the library,and devoured nearly a whole novelthat is,the essence of it,the soft part,for I left the crust or bindingWhen I had digested this,and a second one in addition,I felt a stirring within me,and I ate a bit of a third romance,and now I was a poetI said so to myself,and told the others alsoI had headache,and stomachache,and I can't tell what aches besidesI began thinking what kind of stories could be made to refer to a sausagepeg;and many pegs came into my mindthe ant queen must have had a particularly fine understandingI remembered the man who took a white peg in his mouth,and then both he and the peg were invisibleI thought of being screwed up a peg,of standing on one's own pegs,and of driving a peg into one's own coffinAll my thoughts ran upon pegs;and when one is a poet and I am a poet,for I have worked most terribly hard to become onea person can make poetry on these subjectsI shall therefore be able to wait upon you every day with a poem or a historyand that's the soup I have to offer.”

      Let us hear what the third has to say,”said the Mouse King

      Peep!peep!”was heard at the kitchen door,and a little Mouseit was the fourth of them,the one whom they looked upon as deadshot on like an arrowShe toppled the sausagepeg with the crape covering overShe had been running day and night,and had travelled on the railway,in the goods train,having watched her opportunity,and yet she had almost come too lateShe pressed forward,looking very much rumpled,and she had lost her sausage-peg,but not her voice,for she at once took up the word,as if they had been waiting only for her,and wanted to hear none but her,and as if everything else in the world were of no consequenceShe spoke at once,and spoke fullyshe had appeared so suddenly that no one found time to object to her speech or to her,while she was speakingAnd now let us hear her






      I went immediately to the largest town,”she said;“the name has escaped meI have a bad memory for namesFrom the railway I was carried,with some confiscated goods,to the councilhouse,and there I ran into the dwelling of the jailerThe jailer was talking of his prisoners,and especially of one,who had spoken unconsidered wordsThese words had given rise to others,and these latter had been written down and recorded

      “‘The whole thing is soup on a sausagepeg,’said the jailer;‘but the soup may cost him his neck.’

      Now,this gave me an interest in the prisoner,”continued the Mouse,“and I watched my opportunity and slipped into his prisonfor there's a mousehole to be found behind every locked doorThe prisoner looked pale,and had a great beard and bright sparkling eyesThe lamp smoked,but the walls were so accustomed to that,that they grew none the blacker for itThe prisoner scratched pictures and verses in white upon the black ground,but I did not read themI think he found it tedious,and I was a welcome guest

      He lured me with bread crumbs,with whistling,and with friendly wordshe was glad to see me,and I got to trust him,and we became friendsHe shared with me his bread and water,gave me cheese and sausage;I lived well,but I must say that it was especially the good society that kept me thereHe let me run upon his hand,his arm,and into his sleeve;he let me creep about in his beard,and called me his little friendI really got to love him,for these things are reciprocalI forgot my mission in the wide world,forgot my sausagepeg in a crack in the floorit's lying there stillI wished to stay where I was,for if I went away the poor prisoner would have no one at all,and that's having too little,in this worldI stayed,but he did not stayHe spoke to me very mournfully the last time,gave me twice as much bread and cheese as usual,and kissed his hand to me;then he went away,and never came backI don't know his history

      “‘Soup on a sausagepeg!’said the jailer,to whom I now went;but I should not have trusted himHe took me in his hand,certainly,but he popped me into a cage,a treadmillThat's a horrible engine,in which you go round and round without getting any farther;and people laugh at you into the bargain

      The jailer's granddaughter was a charming little thing,with a mass of curly hair that shone like gold,and such merry eyes,and such a smiling mouth!

      “‘You poor little mouse,’she said,as she peeped into my ugly cage;and she drew out the iron rod,and forth I jumped to the window board,and from thence to the roof spoutFree!free!I thought only of that,and not of the goal of my journey

      It was dark,and night was coming onI took up my quarters in an old tower,where dwelt a watchman and an owlI trusted neither of them,and the owl leastThat is a creature like a cat,who has the great failing that she eats miceBut one may be mistaken,and so was I,for this was a very respectable,welleducated old owlshe knew more than the watchman,and as much as IThe young owls were always making a racket;butDo not make soup on a sausagepeg’ were the hardest words she could prevail on herself to utter,she was so fondly attached to her familyHer conduct inspired me with so much condfidence,that from the crack in which I was crouching I called outPeep!’to herThis confidence of mine pleased her hugely,and she assured me I should be under her protection,and that no creature should be allowed to do me wrong;she would reserve me for herself,for the winter,when there would be short commons

      She was in every respect a clever woman,and explained to me how the watchman could onlywhoopwith the horn that hung at his side,adding,‘He is terribly conceited about it,and imagines he's an owl in the towerWants to do great things,but is very smal1soup on a sausagepeg!

      I begged the owl to give me the recipe for this soup,and then she explained the matter to me

      “‘Soup on a sausagepeg,'she said,‘was only a human proverb,and was understood in different waysEach thinks his own way the best,but the whole really signifies nothing.’

      “‘Nothing!’I exclaimedI was quite struckTruth is not always agreeable,hut truth is above everything;and that's what the old owl saidI now thought about it,and readily perceived that if I brought what was above everything I brought something far beyond soup on a sausagepegSo I hastened away,that I might get home in time,and bring the highest and best,that is above everythingnamely,the truthThe mice are an enlightened people,and the King is above them allHe is capable of making me Queen,for the sake of truth.”

      Your truth is a falsehood,”said the Mouse who had not yet spoken.“I can prepare the soup,and I mean to prepare it.”




      I did not travel,”the third Mouse said.“I remained in my countrythat's the right thing to doThere's no necessity for travelling;one can get everything as good hereI stayed at homeI've not learned what I know from supernatural beings,or gobbled it up,or held converse with owlsI have what I know through my own reflectionsWill you just put that kettle upon the fire and get water poured in up to the brim!Now make up the fire,that the water may boilit must boil over and over!Now throw the peg inWill the King now be pleased to dip his tail in the boiling water,and to stir it round?The longer the King stirs it,the more powerful will the soup becomeIt costs nothing at allno further materials are necessary,only stir it round!”

      Cannot any one else do that?”asked the Mouse king

      No,”replied the Mouse.“The power is contained only in the tail of the Mouse King.”

      And the water boiled and bubbled,and the Mouse King stood close beside the kettlethere was almost danger in itand he put forth his tail,as the mice do in the dairy,when they skim the cream from a pan of milk,and afterwards lick the tail;but he only got his into the hot steam,and then he sprang hastily down from the hearth

      Of coursecertainly you are my Queen,”he said.“We'll wait for the soup till our golden wedding,so that the poor of my subjects may have something to which they can look forward with pleasure for a long time.”

      And soon the wedding was heldBut many of the mice said,as they were returning home,that it could not be really called soup on a sausagepeg,but rather soup on a mouse's tailThey said that some of the stories had been very cleverly told;but the whole thing might have been different.“I should have told it soand soand so!”

      Thus said the critics,who are always wiseafter the fact

      And this story went round the world;and opinions varied concerning it,but the story remained as it wasAnd that's the best in great things and in small,so also with regard to soup on a sausagepegnot to expect any thanks for it

      {ewc MVIMAGE,MVIMAGE, !413615T1.bmp}



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