安徒生童話:the Flax亞麻

the Flax

by Hans Christian Andersen（1849）

the flax was in full bloom； it had pretty little blue flowers as delicate as the wings of a moth， or even more so. The sun shone， and the showers watered it； and this was just as good for the flax as it is for little children to be washed and then kissed by their mother. They look much prettier for it， and so did the flax.

“People say that I look exceedingly well，” said the flax， “and that I am so fine and long that I shall make a beautiful piece of linen. How fortunate I am； it makes me so happy， it is such a pleasant thing to know that something can be made of me. How the sunshine cheers me， and how sweet and refreshing is the rain； my happiness overpowers me， no one in the world can feel happier than I am.”

“Ah， yes， no doubt，” said the fern， “but you do not know the world yet as well as I do， for my sticks are knotty；” and then it sung quite mournfully—

“Snip， snap， snurre，Basse lurre：the song is ended.”

“No， it is not ended，” said the flax. “To-morrow the sun will shine， or the rain descend. I feel that I am growing. I feel that I am in full blossom. I am the happiest of all creatures.”

Well， one day some people came， who took hold of the flax， and pulled it up by the roots； this was painful； then it was laid in water as if they intended to drown it； and， after that， placed near a fire as if it were to be roasted； all this was very shocking. “We cannot expect to be happy always，” said the flax； “by experiencing evil as well as good， we become wise.” And certainly there was plenty of evil in store for the flax. It was steeped， and roasted， and broken， and combed； indeed， it scarcely knew what was done to it. At last it was put on the spinning wheel. “Whirr， whirr，” went the wheel so quickly that the flax could not collect its thoughts. “Well， I have been very happy，” he thought in the midst of his pain， “and must be contented with the past；” and contented he remained till he was put on the loom， and became a beautiful piece of white linen. All the flax， even to the last stalk， was used in making this one piece. “Well， this is quite wonderful； I could not have believed that I should be so favored by fortune. The fern was not wrong with its song of

“Snip， snap， snurre，Basse lurre.”

But the song is not ended yet， I am sure； it is only just beginning. How wonderful it is， that after all I have suffered， I am made something of at last； I am the luckiest person in the world—so strong and fine； and how white， and what a length！ This is something different to being a mere plant and bearing flowers. Then I had no attention， nor any water unless it rained； now， I am watched and taken care of. Every morning the maid turns me over， and I have a shower-bath from the watering-pot every evening. Yes， and the clergyman's wife noticed me， and said I was the best piece of linen in the whole parish. I cannot be happier than I am now.“

After some time， the linen was taken into the house， placed under the scissors， and cut and torn into pieces， and then pricked with needles. This certainly was not pleasant； but at last it was made into twelve garments of that kind which people do not like to name， and yet everybody should wear one. “See， now， then，” said the flax； “I have become something of importance. This was my destiny； it is quite a blessing. Now I shall be of some use in the world， as everyone ought to be； it is the only way to be happy. I am now divided into twelve pieces， and yet we are all one and the same in the whole dozen. It is most extraordinary good fortune.”

Years passed away， and at last the linen was so worn it could scarcely hold together. “It must end very soon，” said the pieces to each other； “we would gladly have held together a little longer， but it is useless to expect impossibilities.” And at length they fell into rags and tatters， and thought it was all over with them， for they were torn to shreds， and steeped in water， and made into a pulp， and dried， and they knew not what besides， till all at once they found themselves beautiful white paper. “Well， now， this is a surprise； a glorious surprise too，” said the paper. “I am now finer than ever， and I shall be written upon， and who can tell what fine things I may have written upon me. This is wonderful luck！” And sure enough the most beautiful stories and poetry were written upon it， and only once was there a blot， which was very fortunate. Then people heard the stories and poetry read， and it made them wiser and better； for all that was written had a good and sensible meaning， and a GREat blessing was contained in the words on this paper.

“I never imagined anything like this，” said the paper， “when I was only a little blue flower， growing in the fields. How could I fancy that I should ever be the means of bringing knowledge and joy to man？ I cannot understand it myself， and yet it is really so. Heaven knows that I have done nothing myself， but what I was obliged to do with my weak powers for my own preservation； and yet I have been promoted from one joy and honor to another. Each time I think that the song is ended； and then something higher and better begins for me. I suppose now I shall be sent on my travels about the world， so that people may read me. It cannot be otherwise； indeed， it is more than probable； for I have more splendid thoughts written upon me， than I had pretty flowers in olden times. I am happier than ever.”

But the paper did not go on its travels； it was sent to the printer， and all the words written upon it were set up in type， to make a book， or rather， many hundreds of books； for so many more persons could derive pleasure and profit from a printed book， than from the written paper； and if the paper had been sent around the world， it would have been worn out before it had got half through its journey.

“This is certainly the wisest plan，” said the written paper； “I really did not think of that. I shall remain at home， and be held in honor， like some old grandfather， as I really am to all these new books. They will do some good. I could not have wandered about as they do. Yet he who wrote all this has looked at me， as every word flowed from his pen upon my surface. I am the most honored of all.”

then the paper was tied in a bundle with other papers， and thrown into a tub that stood in the washhouse.

“After work， it is well to rest，” said the paper， “and a very good opportunity to collect one's thoughts. Now I am able， for the first time， to think of my real condition； and to know one's self is true proGREss. What will be done with me now， I wonder？ No doubt I shall still go forward. I have always progressed hitherto， as I know quite well.”

Now it happened one day that all the paper in the tub was taken out， and laid on the hearth to be burnt. People said it could not be sold at the shop， to wrap up butter and sugar， because it had been written upon. The children in the house stood round the stove； for they wanted to see the paper burn， because it flamed up so prettily， and afterwards， among the ashes， so many red sparks could be seen running one after the other， here and there， as quick as the wind. They called it seeing the children come out of school， and the last spark was the schoolmaster. They often thought the last spark had come； and one would cry， “There goes the schoolmaster；” but the next moment another spark would appear， shining so beautifully. How they would like to know where the sparks all went to！ Perhaps we shall find out some day， but we don't know now.

the whole bundle of paper had been placed on the fire， and was soon alight. “Ugh，” cried the paper， as it burst into a bright flame； “ugh.” It was certainly not very pleasant to be burning； but when the whole was wrapped in flames， the flames mounted up into the air， higher than the flax had ever been able to raise its little blue flower， and they glistened as the white linen never could have glistened. All the written letters became quite red in a moment， and all the words and thoughts turned to fire.

“Now I am mounting straight up to the sun，” said a voice in the flames； and it was as if a thousand voices echoed the words； and the flames darted up through the chimney， and went out at the top. Then a number of tiny beings， as many in number as the flowers on the flax had been， and invisible to mortal eyes， floated above them. They were even lighter and more delicate than the flowers from which they were born； and as the flames were extinguished， and nothing remained of the paper but black ashes， these little beings danced upon it； and whenever they touched it， bright red sparks appeared.

“the children are all out of school， and the schoolmaster was the last of all，” said the children. It was good fun， and they sang over the dead ashes，—

“Snip， snap， snurre，Basse lure：the song is ended.”

But the little invisible beings said， “The song is never ended； the most beautiful is yet to come.”

But the children could neither hear nor understand this， nor should they； for children must not know everything.

一棵亞麻開滿了花。它開滿了非常美麗的藍花。花朵柔軟得像飛蛾的翅膀，甚至比那還要柔軟。太陽照在亞麻身上，雨霧潤澤着它。這正好像孩子被洗了一番以後，又從媽媽那裏得到了一個吻一樣——使他們變得更可愛。亞麻也是這樣。“人們說，我長得太好了，”亞麻說，“並且還說我又美又長，將來可以織成很好看的布。嗨，我是多麼幸運啊！我將來一定是最幸運的人！太陽光多麼使人快樂！雨的味道是多麼好，多麼使人感到新鮮！我是分外地幸運；我是一切東西之中最幸運的！”“對，對，對！”籬笆樁說。“你不瞭解這個世界，但是我們瞭解，因爲我們身上長得有節！”於是它們就悲觀地發出吱吱格格的聲音來：

吱——格——噓，拍——呼——籲，歌兒完了。“沒有，歌兒並沒有完了呀！”亞麻說。“明天早晨太陽就會出來，雨就會使人愉快。我能聽見我在生長的聲音，我能覺得我在開花！我是一切生物中最幸運的！”

不過有一天，人們走過來捏着亞麻的頭，把它連根從土裏拔出來。它受了傷。它被放在水裏，好像人們要把它淹死似的。然後它又被放在火上，好像人們要把它烤死似的。這真是可怕！“一個人不能永遠過着幸福的時光！”亞麻說。“一個人應該吃點苦，才能懂得一些事情。”

不過更糟糕的時候到來了。亞麻被折斷了，撕碎了，揉打了和梳理了一通。是的，它自己也不知道這是一套甚麼玩藝兒。它被裝在一架紡車上——吱格！吱格！吱格——這把它弄得頭昏腦漲，連思想都不可能了。“我有個時候曾經是非常幸運的！”它在痛苦中作這樣的回憶。“一個人在幸福的時候應該知道快樂！快樂！快樂！啊！”當它被裝到織布機上去的時候，它仍然在說這樣的話。於是它被織成了一大塊美麗的布。所有的亞麻，每一根亞麻，都被織成了這塊布。“不過，這真是出人意料之外！我以前決不會相信的！嗨！我是多麼幸福啊！是的，籬笆樁這樣唱是有道理的：

吱——格——噓，拍——呼——籲！“歌兒一點也不能算是完了！它現在還不過是剛剛開始呢！這真是意想不到！如果說我吃了一點苦頭，總算沒有白吃。我是一切東西中最幸福的！我是多麼結實、多麼柔和、多麼白、多麼長啊！我原不過只是一棵植物——哪怕還開得有花；和從前比起來，我現在完全是兩樣！從前沒有誰照料我，只有在天下雨的時候我纔得到一點水。現在卻有人來照料我了！女僕人每天早上把我翻一翻，每天晚上我在水盆裏洗一個淋水浴。是的，牧師的太太甚至還作了一篇關於我的演講，說我是整個教區裏最好的一塊布。我不能比這更幸福了！”

現在這塊布來到屋子裏面，被一把剪刀裁剪着。人們是在怎樣剪它，在怎樣裁它，在怎樣用針刺它啊！人們就是這樣對付它，而這並不是太愉快的事情。它被裁成一件衣服的12個沒有名字、但是缺一不可的部分——恰恰是一打！“嗨，現在我總算得到一點結果！這就是我的命運！是的，這纔是真正的幸福呢！我現在算是對世界有點用處了，而這也是應該的——這纔是真正的快樂！我們變成了12件東西，但同時我們又是一個整體。我們是一打，這是稀有的幸運！”

許多年過去了。它們再無法守在一起了。“有一天總會完了，”每一個部分說。“我倒希望我們能在一起待得久一點，不過你不能指望不可能的事情呀！”

它們現在被撕成了爛布片。它們以爲現在一切都完了，因爲它們被剁細了，並且被水煮了。是的，它們自己也不知道它們是甚麼。最後它們變成了美麗的白紙。“哎唷，這真是奇事，一件可愛的奇事！”紙說。“我現在比以前更美麗了，人們將在我身上寫出字來！這真是絕頂的好運氣！”

它上面寫了字——寫了最美麗的故事。人們聽着這些寫下來的故事——這都是些聰明和美好的事情，聽了能夠使人變得更聰明和更美好。這些寫在紙上的字是最大的幸福。“這比我是一朵田野裏的小藍花時所能夢想得到的東西要美妙得多。我怎能想到我能在人類中間散佈快樂和知識呢？我連自己都不懂得這道理！不過事實確是如此。上帝知道，除了我微弱的力量爲了保存自己所能做到的一點事情以外，我甚麼本事也沒有！然而他卻不停地給我快樂和光榮。每次當我一想到”歌兒完了“的時候，歌兒卻以更高貴、更美好的方式重新開始。現在無疑地我將要被送到世界各地去旅行，好使人人都能讀到我。這種事情是很可能的！從前我有藍花兒，現在每一朵花兒都變成了最美麗的思想！我在一切東西中是最幸福的！”

不過紙並沒有去旅行，卻到一個印刷所裏去了。它上面所寫的東西都被排成了書，也可以說幾千幾百本的書，因爲這樣纔可以使無數的人得到快樂和好處。這比起寫在紙上、周遊世界不到半路就毀壞了的這種情況來，要好得多。“是的，這的確是一個最聰明的辦法！”寫上了字的紙想。“我確實沒有想到這一點！我將待在家裏，受人尊敬，像一位老祖父一樣！文章是寫在我的身上；字句從筆尖直接流到我的身體裏面去。我沒有動，而是書本在各處旅行。我現在的確能夠做點事情！我是多麼高興，我是多麼幸福啊！”

於是紙被捲成一個小卷，放到書架上去了。“工作過後休息一陣是很好的，”紙說。“把思想集中一下，想想自己肚皮裏有些甚麼東西——這是對的。現在我第一次知道我有些甚麼本事——認識自己就是進步。我還會變成甚麼呢？我仍然會前進；我永遠是前進的！”

有一天紙被放在爐子上要燒掉，因爲它不能賣給雜貸店裏去包黃油和紅糖。屋裏的孩子們都圍做一團；他們要看看它燒起來，他們要看看火灰裏的那些紅火星—— 這些火星很快就一個接着一個地不見了，熄滅了。這很像放了學的孩子。最後的一顆火星簡直像老師：大家總以爲他早走了，但是他卻在別人的後面走出來。

所有的紙被捲成一卷，放在火上。噢！它燒得才快呢。“噢！”它說，同時變成了一朵明亮的焰花。焰花升得很高，亞麻從來沒有能夠把它的小藍花開得這樣高過。它發出白麻布從來發不出的閃光。它上面寫的字一忽兒全都變紅了；那些詞句和思想都成了火焰。“現在我要直接升向太陽了！”火焰中有一個聲音說。這好像一千個聲音在合唱。焰花通過煙囪一直跑到外面去。在那兒，比焰花還要細微的、人眼所看不見的、微小的生物在浮動着，數目之多，比得上亞麻所開的花朵。它們比產生它們的火焰還要輕。當火焰熄滅了、當紙只剩下一撮黑灰的時候，它們還在灰上跳了一次舞。它們在它們所接觸過的地方都留下了痕跡——許多小小的紅火星。孩子們都從學校裏走出來，老師總是跟在最後！看看這情形真好玩！家裏的孩子站在死灰的周圍，唱出一支歌——吱——格——噓，拍——呼——籲！

歌兒完了！

不過那些細小的、看不見的小生物都說：“歌兒是永遠不會完的！這是一切歌中最好的一支歌！我知道這一點，因此我是最幸福的！”

但是孩子們既聽不見，也不懂這話；事實上他們也不應該懂，因爲孩子不應該甚麼東西都知道呀。

（1849年）

這篇故事，最初收集在哥本哈根出版的《祖國》一書中。“一個人在幸福的時候應該知道快樂！快樂！快樂！啊！”當亞麻被裝到織布機上時，亞麻說了這樣的話。亞麻也具有“阿Q精神”，當它成了爛布片，被剁細了，被水煮了，變成白紙，成爲寫了字的紙，排成書的紙，而又被最後燒掉時，它可能還覺得很快樂。