THE BOTTLE NECK.docx

THE BOTTLE NECK.docx

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THEBOTTLENECK

1872

FAIRYTALESOFHANSCHRISTIANANDERSEN

THEBOTTLENECK

byHansChristianAndersen

CLOSEtothecornerofastreet,amongotherabodesofpoverty,

stoodanexceedinglytall,narrowhouse,whichhadbeensoknocked

aboutbytimethatitseemedoutofjointineverydirection.This

housewasinhabitedbypoorpeople,butthedeepestpovertywas

apparentinthegarretlodginginthegable.Infrontofthelittle

window,anoldbentbird-cagehunginthesunshine,whichhadnoteven

aproperwater-glass,butinsteadofitthebrokenneckofabottle,

turnedupsidedown,andacorkstuckintomakeitholdthewaterwith

whichitwasfilled.Anoldmaidstoodatthewindow;shehadhung

chickweedoverthecage,andthelittlelinnetwhichitcontained

hoppedfromperchtoperchandsangandtwitteredmerrily.

"Yes,it'sallverywellforyoutosing,"saidthebottleneck:

thatis,hedidnotreallyspeakthewordsaswedo,fortheneckofa

bottlecannotspeak;buthethoughtthemtohimselfinhisownmind,

justaspeoplesometimestalkquietlytothemselves.

"Yes,youmaysingverywell,youhaveallyourlimbsuninjured;

youshouldfeelwhatitisliketoloseyourbody,andonlyhavea

neckandamouthleft,withacorkstuckinit,asIhave:

you

wouldn'tsingthen,Iknow.Afterall,itisjustaswellthatthere

aresomewhocanbehappy.Ihavenoreasontosing,norcouldI

singnowifIwereeversohappy;butwhenIwasawholebottle,and

theyrubbedmewithacork,didn'tIsingthen?

Iusedtobecalled

acompletelark.IrememberwhenIwentouttoapicnicwiththe

furrier'sfamily,onthedayhisdaughterwasbetrothed,-itseems

asifitonlyhappenedyesterday.Ihavegonethroughagreatdeal

inmytime,whenIcometorecollect:

Ihavebeeninthefireandin

thewater,Ihavebeendeepintheearth,andhavemountedhigherin

theairthanmostotherpeople,andnowIamswinginghere,outside

abird-cage,intheairandthesunshine.Oh,indeed,itwouldbe

worthwhiletohearmyhistory;butIdonotspeakitaloud,fora

goodreason-becauseIcannot."

Thenthebottleneckrelatedhishistory,whichwasreally

ratherremarkable;he,infact,relatedittohimself,or,atleast,

thoughtitinhisownmind.Thelittlebirdsanghisownsongmerrily;

inthestreetbelowtherewasdrivingandrunningtoandfro,every

onethoughtofhisownaffairs,orperhapsofnothingatall;but

thebottleneckthoughtdeeply.Hethoughtoftheblazingfurnacein

thefactory,wherehehadbeenblownintolife;herememberedhow

hotitfeltwhenhewasplacedintheheatedoven,thehomefromwhich

hesprang,andthathehadastronginclinationtoleapoutagain

directly;butafterawhileitbecamecooler,andhefoundhimself

verycomfortable.Hehadbeenplacedinarow,withawholeregiment

ofhisbrothersandsistersallbroughtoutofthesamefurnace;

someofthemhadcertainlybeenblownintochampagnebottles,and

othersintobeerbottles,whichmadealittledifferencebetweenthem.

Intheworlditoftenhappensthatabeerbottlemaycontainthe

mostpreciouswine,andachampagnebottlebefilledwithblacking,

butevenindecayitmayalwaysbeseenwhetheramanhasbeenwell

born.Nobilityremainsnoble,asachampagnebottleremainsthe

same,evenwithblackinginitsinterior.Whenthebottleswerepacked

ourbottlewaspackedamongstthem;itlittleexpectedthento

finishitscareerasabottleneck,ortobeusedasawater-glass

toabird's-cage,whichis,afterall,aplaceofhonor,foritis

tobeofsomeuseintheworld.Thebottledidnotbeholdthelightof

dayagain,untilitwasunpackedwiththerestinthewine

merchant'scellar,and,forthefirsttime,rinsedwithwater,which

causedsomeverycurioussensations.Thereitlayempty,andwithouta

cork,andithadapeculiarfeeling,asifitwantedsomethingitknew

notwhat.Atlastitwasfilledwithrichandcostlywine,acork

wasplacedinit,andsealeddown.Thenitwaslabelled"first

quality,"asifithadcarriedoffthefirstprizeatan

examination;besides,thewineandthebottlewerebothgood,and

whileweareyoungisthetimeforpoetry.Thereweresoundsofsong

withinthebottle,ofthingsitcouldnotunderstand,ofgreensunny

mountains,wherethevinesgrowandwherethemerryvine-dressers

laugh,sing,andaremerry."Ah,howbeautifulislife."Allthese

tonesofjoyandsonginthebottlewereliketheworkingofayoung

poet'sbrain,whooftenknowsnotthemeaningofthetoneswhichare

soundingwithinhim.Onemorningthebottlefoundapurchaserinthe

furrier'sapprentice,whowastoldtobringoneofthebestbottlesof

wine.Itwasplacedintheprovisionbasketwithhamandcheeseand

sausages.Thesweetestfreshbutterandthefinestbreadwereputinto

thebasketbythefurrier'sdaughterherself,forshepackedit.She

wasyoungandpretty;herbrowneyeslaughed,andasmilelingered

roundhermouthassweetasthatinhereyes.Shehaddelicate

hands,beautifullywhite,andherneckwaswhiterstill.Itcould

easilybeseenthatshewasaverylovelygirl,andasyetshewasnot

engaged.Theprovisionbasketlayinthelapoftheyounggirlas

thefamilydroveouttotheforest,andtheneckofthebottle

peepedoutfrombetweenthefoldsofthewhitenapkin.Therewasthe

redwaxonthecork,andthebottlelookedstraightattheyoung

girl'sface,andalsoatthefaceoftheyoungsailorwhosatnear

her.Hewasayoungfriend,thesonofaportraitpainter.Hehad

latelypassedhisexaminationwithhonor,asmate,andthenext

morninghewastosailinhisshiptoadistantcoast.Therehad

beenagreatdealoftalkonthissubjectwhilethebasketwasbeing

packed,andduringthisconversationtheeyesandthemouthofthe

furrier'sdaughterdidnotwearaveryjoyfulexpression.Theyoung

peoplewanderedawayintothegreenwood,andtalkedtogether.What

didtheytalkabout?

Thebottlecouldnotsay,forhewasinthe

provisionbasket.Itremainedtherealongtime;butwhenatlastit

wasbroughtforthitappearedasifsomethingpleasanthadhappened,

foreveryonewaslaughing;thefurrier'sdaughterlaughedtoo,but

shesaidverylittle,andhercheekswereliketworoses.Thenher

fathertookthebottleandthecork-screwintohishands.Whata

strangesensationitwastohavethecorkdrawnforthefirsttime!

Thebottlecouldneverafterthatforgettheperformanceofthat

moment;indeedtherewasquiteaconvulsionwithinhimasthecork

flewout,andagurglingsoundasthewinewaspouredforthintothe

glasses.

"Longlifetothebetrothed,"criedthepapa,andeveryglass

wasemptiedtothedregs,whiletheyoungsailorkissedhis

beautifulbride.

"Happinessandblessingtoyouboth,"saidtheoldpeople-father

andmother,andtheyoungmanfilledtheglassesagain.

"Safereturn,andaweddingthisdaynextyear,"hecried;and

whentheglasseswereemptyhetookthebottle,raiseditonhigh,and

said,"Thouhastbeenpresenthereonthehappiestdayofmylife;

thoushaltneverbeusedbyothers!

"Sosaying,hehurledithighin

theair.

Thefurrier'sdaughterthoughtsheshouldneverseeitagain,

butshewasmistaken.Itfellamongtherushesonthebordersofa

littlewoodlandlake.Thebottleneckrememberedwellhowlongit

laythereunseen."Igavethemwine,andtheygavememuddywater,"he

hadsaidtohimself,"butIsupposeitwasallwellmeant."Hecould

nolongerseethebetrothedcouple,northecheerfuloldpeople;but

foralongtimehecouldhearthemrejoicingandsinging.Atlength

therecamebytwopeasantboys,whopeepedinamongthereedsand

spiedoutthebottle.Thentheytookitupandcarriedithomewith

them,sothatoncemoreitwasprovidedfor.Athomeintheirwooden

cottagetheseboyshadanelderbrother,asailor,whowasaboutto

startonalongvoyage.Hehadbeentherethedaybeforetosay

farewell,andhismotherwasnowverybusypackingupvariousthings

forhimtotakewithhimonhisvoyage.Intheeveninghisfather

wasgoingtocarrytheparceltothetowntoseehissononcemore,

andtakehimafarewellgreetingfromhismother.Asmallbottlehad

alreadybeenfilledwithherbtea,mixedwithbrandy,andwrappedina

parcel;butwhentheboyscameintheybroughtwiththemalarger

andstrongerbottle,whichtheyhadfound.Thisbottlewouldholdso

muchmorethanthelittleone,andtheyallsaidthebrandywouldbe

sogoodforcomplaintsofthestomach,especiallyasitwasmixedwith

medicalherbs.Theliquidwhichtheynowpouredintothebottlewas

notliketheredwinewithwhichithadoncebeenfilled;thesewere

bitterdrops,buttheyareofgreatusesometimes-forthestomach.The

newlargebottlewastogo,notthelittleone:

sothebottleonce

morestartedonitstravels.Itwastakenonboard（forPeterJensen

wasoneofthecrew）theverysameshipinwhichtheyoungmatewasto

sail.Butthematedidnotseethebottle:

indeed,ifhehadhe

wouldnothaveknownit,orsupposeditwastheoneoutofwhich

theyhaddrunktothefelicityofthebetrothedandtotheprospectof

amarriageonhisownhappyreturn.Certainlythebottlenolonger

pouredforthwine,butitcontainedsomethingquiteasgood;andsoit

happenedthatwheneverPeterJensenbroughtitout,hismessmatesgave

itthenameof"theapothecary,"foritcontainedthebestmedicineto

curethestomach,andhegaveitoutquitewillinglyaslongasadrop

remained.Thosewerehappydays,andthebottlewouldsingwhenrubbed

withacork,anditwascalledagreatlark,""PeterJensen'slark."

Longdaysandmonthsrolledby,duringwhichthebottlestood

e