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The Storm Shakes the Shield

Author: Andersen Hans Christian | Genre: Tale | Year: | Catalogue: Global database Все варианты сказки на сайте

In the old days, when grandpapa was quite a little boy, and ran about in little
red breeches and a red coat, and a feather in his cap—for that’s the costume the
little boys wore in his time when they were dressed in their best—many things
were very different from what they are now. There was often a good deal of show
in the streets—show that we don’t see nowadays, because it has been abolished
as too old-fashioned. Still, it is very interesting to hear grandfather tell about
it.

It must really have been a gorgeous sight to behold, in those days, when the
shoemaker brought over the shield, when the court-house was changed. The silken
flag waved to and fro, on the shield itself a double eagle was displayed, and
a big boot; the youngest lads carried the “welcome,” and the chest of the workmen’s
guild, and their shirt-sleeves were adorned with red and white ribbons; the
elder ones carried drawn swords, each with a lemon stuck on its point. There
was a full band of music, and the most splendid of all the instruments was the
“bird,” as grandfather called the big stick with the crescent on the top, and
all manner of dingle-dangles hanging to it—a perfect Turkish clatter of music.
The stick was lifted high in the air, and swung up and down till it jingled
again, and quite dazzled one’s eyes when the sun shone on all its glory of gold,
and silver, and brass.

In front of the procession ran the Harlequin, dressed in clothes made of all
kinds of colored patches artfully sewn together, with a black face, and bells
on his head like a sledge horse. He beat the people with his bat, which made
a great clattering without hurting them, and the people would crowd together
and fall back, only to advance again the next moment. Little boys and girls
fell over their own toes into the gutter, old women dispensed digs with their
elbows, and looked sour, and took snuff. One laughed, another chatted; the people
thronged the windows and door-steps, and even all the roofs. The sun shone;
and although they had a little rain too, that was good for the farmer; and when
they got wetted thoroughly, they only thought what a blessing it was for the
country.

And what stories grandpapa could tell! As a little boy he had seen all these
fine doings in their greatest pomp. The oldest of the policemen used to make
a speech from the platform on which the shield was hung up, and the speech was
in verse, as if it had been made by a poet, as, indeed it had; for three people
had concocted it together, and they had first drunk a good bowl of punch, so
that the speech might turn out well.

And the people gave a cheer for the speech, but they shouted much louder for
the Harlequin, when he appeared in front of the platform, and made a grimace
at them.

The fools played the fool most admirably, and drank mead out of spirit-glasses,
which they then flung among the crowd, by whom they were caught up. Grandfather
was the possessor of one of these glasses, which had been given him by a working
mason, who had managed to catch it. Such a scene was really very pleasant; and
the shield on the new court-house was hung with flowers and green wreaths.


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  • “One never forgets a feast like that, however old one may grow,” said grandfather.
    Nor did he forget it, though he saw many other grand spectacles in his time,
    and could tell about them too; but it was most pleasant of all to hear him tell
    about the shield that was brought in the town from the old to the new court-house.

    Once, when he was a little boy, grandpapa had gone with his parents to see
    this festivity. He had never yet been in the metropolis of the country. There
    were so many people in the streets, that he thought that the shield was being
    carried. There were many shields to be seen; a hundred rooms might have been
    filled with pictures, if they had been hung up inside and outside. At the tailor’s
    were pictures of all kinds of clothing, to show that he could stitch up people
    from the coarsest to the finest; at the tobacco manufacturer’s were pictures
    of the most charming little boys, smoking cigars, just as they do in reality;
    there were signs with painted butter, and herring, clerical collars, and coffins,
    and inscriptions and announcements into the bargain. A person could walk up
    and down for a whole day through the streets, and tire himself out with looking
    at the pictures; and then he would know all about what people lived in the houses,
    for they had hung out their shields or signs; and, as grandfather said, it was
    a very instructive thing, in a great town, to know at once who the inhabitants
    were.

    And this is what happened with these shields, when grandpapa came to the town.
    He told it me himself, and he hadn’t “a rogue on his back,” as mother used to
    tell me he had when he wanted to make me believe something outrageous, for now
    he looked quite trustworthy.

    The first night after he came to the town had been signalized by the most terrible
    gale ever recorded in the newspapers—a gale such as none of the inhabitants
    had ever before experienced. The air was dark with flying tiles; old wood-work
    crashed and fell; and a wheelbarrow ran up the streets all alone, only to get
    out of the way. There was a groaning in the air, and a howling and a shrieking,
    and altogether it was a terrible storm. The water in the canal rose over the
    banks, for it did not know where to run. The storm swept over the town, carrying
    plenty of chimneys with it, and more than one proud weathercock on a church
    tower had to bow, and has never got over it from that time.

    There was a kind of sentry-house, where dwelt the venerable old superintendent
    of the fire brigade, who always arrived with the last engine. The storm would
    not leave this little sentry-house alone, but must needs tear it from its fastenings,
    and roll it down the street; and, wonderfully enough, it stopped opposite to
    the door of the dirty journeyman plasterer, who had saved three lives at the
    last fire, but the sentry-house thought nothing of that.

    The barber’s shield, the great brazen dish, was carried away, and hurled straight
    into the embrasure of the councillor of justice; and the whole neighborhood
    said this looked almost like malice, inasmuch as they, and nearly all the friends
    of the councillor’s wife, used to call that lady “the Razor” for she was so
    sharp that she knew more about other people’s business than they knew about
    it themselves.

    A shield with a dried salt fish painted on it flew exactly in front of the
    door of a house where dwelt a man who wrote a newspaper. That was a very poor
    joke perpetrated by the gale, which seemed to have forgotten that a man who
    writes in a paper is not the kind of person to understand any liberty taken
    with him; for he is a king in his own newspaper, and likewise in his own opinion.

    The weathercock flew to the opposite house, where he perched, looking the picture
    of malice—so the neighbors said.

    The cooper’s tub stuck itself up under the head of “ladies’ costumes.”

    The eating-house keeper’s bill of fare, which had hung at his door in a heavy
    frame, was posted by the storm over the entrance to the theatre, where nobody
    went. “It was a ridiculous list—horse-radish, soup, and stuffed cabbage.” And
    now people came in plenty.

    The fox’s skin, the honorable sign of the furrier, was found fastened to the
    bell-pull of a young man who always went to early lecture, and looked like a
    furled umbrella. He said he was striving after truth, and was considered by
    his aunt “a model and an example.”

    The inscription “Institution for Superior Education” was found near the billiard
    club, which place of resort was further adorned with the words, “Children brought
    up by hand.” Now, this was not at all witty; but, you see, the storm had done
    it, and no one has any control over that.

    It was a terrible night, and in the morning—only think!—nearly all the shields
    had changed places. In some places the inscriptions were so malicious, that
    grandfather would not speak of them at all; but I saw that he was chuckling
    secretly, and there may have been some inaccuracy in his description, after
    all.

    The poor people in the town, and still more the strangers, were continually
    making mistakes in the people they wanted to see; nor was this to be avoided,
    when they went according to the shields that were hung up. Thus, for instance,
    some who wanted to go to a very grave assembly of elderly men, where important
    affairs were to be discussed, found themselves in a noisy boys’ school, where
    all the company were leaping over the chairs and tables.

    There were also people who made a mistake between the church and the theatre,
    and that was terrible indeed!

    Such a storm we have never witnessed in our day; for that only happened in
    grandpapa’s time, when he was quite a little boy. Perhaps we shall never experience
    a storm of the kind, but our grandchildren may; and we can only hope and pray
    that all may stay at home while the storm is moving the shields.