OLETHETOWER
OLE THE TOWER-KEEPER
1872
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
OLE THE TOWER-KEEPER
by Hans Christian Andersen
"IN the world it's always going up and down; and now I can't go up
any higher!" So said Ole the tower-keeper. "Most people have to try
both the ups and the downs; and, rightly considered, we all get to
be watchmen at last, and look down upon life from a height."
Such was the speech of Ole, my friend, the old tower-keeper, a
strange, talkative old fellow, who seemed to speak out everything that
came into his head, and who for all that had many a serious thought
deep in his heart. Yes, he was the child of respectable people, and
there were even some who said that he was the son of a privy
councillor, or that he might have been. He had studied, too, and had
been assistant teacher and deputy clerk; but of what service was all
that to him? In those days he lived in the clerk's house, and was to
have everything in the house- to be at free quarters, as the saying
is; but he was still, so to speak, a fine young gentleman. He wanted
to have his boots cleaned with patent blacking, and the clerk could
only afford ordinary grease; and upon that point they split. One spoke
of stinginess, the other of vanity, and the blacking became the
black cause of enmity between them, and at last they parted.
This is what he demanded of the world in general, namely, patent
blacking, and he got nothing but grease. Accordingly, he at last
drew back from all men, and became a hermit; but the church tower is
the only place in a great city where hermitage, office and bread can
be found together. So he betook himself up thither, and smoked his
pipe as he made his solitary rounds. He looked upward and downward, and had his own thoughts, and told in his own way of what he read in books and in himself. I often lent him books- good books; and you may know by the company he keeps. He loved neither the English governess novels nor the French ones, which he called a mixture of empty wind and raisin-stalks: he wanted biographies, and descriptions of the wonders of, the world. I visited him at least once a year, generally directly after New Year's day, and then he always spoke of this and that which the change of the year had put into his head.
I will tell the story of three of these visits, and will reproduce
his own words whenever I can remember them.
FIRST VISIT
Among the books which I had lately lent Ole, was one which had
greatly rejoiced and occupied him. It was a geological book,
containing an account of the boulders.
"Yes, they're rare old fellows, those boulders!" he said; "and
to think that we should pass them without noticing them! And over
the street pavement, the paving stones, those fragments of the
oldest remains of antiquity, one walks without ever thinking about
them. I have done the very thing myself. But now I look respectfully
at every paving-stone. Many thanks for the book! It has filled me with
thought, and has made me long to read more on the subject. The romance of the earth is, after all, the most wonderful of all romances. It's a pity one can't read the first volume of it, because it is written in a
language that we don't understand. One must read in the different
strata, in the pebble-stones, for each separate period. Yes, it is a
romance, a very wonderful romance, and we all have our place in it.
We grope and ferret about, and yet remain where we are; but the ball
keeps turning, without emptying the ocean over us; the clod on which
we move about, holds, and does not let us through. And then it's a
story that has been acting for thousands upon thousands of years and
is still going on. My best thanks for the book about the boulders.
Those are fellows indeed! They could tell us something worth
hearing, if they only knew how to talk. It's really a pleasure now and
then to become a mere nothing, especially when
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