THE SHEPHERDESS AND THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER
HAVE you never seen an old-fashioned oaken-wood cabinet, quite black with age and covered with varnish and carving-work? Just such a piece of furniture, an old heir-loom that had been the property of its present mistress’s great-grandmother, once stood in a parlour. It was carved from top to bottom—roses, tulips, and little stags’ heads with long, branching antlers, peering forth from the curious scrolls and foliage surrounding them. Moreover, in the centre panel of the cabinet was carved the full-length figure of a man, who seemed to be perpetually grinning, perhaps at himself, for in truth he was a most ridiculous figure; he had crooked legs, small horns on his forehead, and a long beard. The children of the house used to call him ‘the crooked-legged Field-marshal-Major-General-Corporal-Sergeant,’ for this was a long, hard name, and not many figures, whether carved in wood or in stone, could boast of such a title. There he stood, his eyes always fixed upon the table under the pier-glass, for on this table stood a pretty little porcelain shepherdess, her mantle gathered gracefully round her, and fastened with a red rose; her shoes and hat were gilt, her hand held a crook—oh, she was charming! Close by her stood a little chimney-sweeper, likewise of porcelain. He was as clean and neat as any of the other figures, indeed, the manufacturer might just as well have made a prince as a chimney-sweeper of him, for though elsewhere black as a coal, his face was as fresh and rosy as a girl’s, which was certainly a mistake,—it ought to have been black. His ladder in his hand, there he kept his station, close by the little shepherdess; they had been placed together from the first, had always remained on the same spot, and had thus plighted their troth to each other; they suited each other so well, they were both young people, both of the same kind of porcelain, both alike fragile and delicate.
Not far off stood a figure three times as large as the others. It was an old Chinese mandarin who could nod his head; he too was of porcelain, and declared that he was grandfather to the little shepherdess. He could not prove his assertion; however, he insisted that he had authority over her, and so, when ‘the crooked-legged Field-marshal-Major-General-Corporal-Sergeant’ made proposals to the little shepherdess, he nodded his head in token of his consent.
‘Now, you will have a husband,’ said the old mandarin to her, ‘a husband who, I verily believe, is of mahogany-wood; you will be the wife of a Field-marshal-Major-General-Corporal-Sergeant, of a man who has a whole cabinet full of silverplate, besides a store of no one knows what in the secret drawers!’
‘I will not go into that dismal cabinet!’ declared the little shepherdess. ‘I have heard say that eleven porcelain ladies are already imprisoned there.’
‘Then you shall be the twelfth, and you will be in good company!’ rejoined the mandarin. ‘This very night, when the old cabinet creaks, your nuptials shall be celebrated, as sure as I am a Chinese mandarin!’
Whereupon he nodded his head and fell asleep.
But the little shepherdess wept, and turned to the beloved of her heart, the porcelain chimney-sweep.
‘I believe I must ask you,’ said she, ‘to go out with me into the wide world, for here we cannot stay.’
‘I will do everything you wish,’ replied the little chimney-sweeper; ‘let us go at once. I think I can support you by my profession.’