SOUP ON A SAUSAGE-PEGI
Ⅰ
“THAT was a remarkably fine dinner yesterday，”Bo－served an old Mouse of the female sex to another who had not been at the festive gathering．“I sat number twenty-one from the old Mouse King，so that I was not hadly placed．Should you like to hear the order of the banquet？The courses were very well arranged—mouldy bread，bacon rind，tallow candle，and sausage—and then the same dishes over again from the beginning：it was just as good as having two banquets on end．There was as much joviality and agreeable jesting as in the family circle．Nothing was left but the pegs at the ends of the sausages．And the discourse turned upon these；and at last the expression，‘Soup on a sausage-peg，’was mentioned．Every one had heard the proverb，but no one had ever tasted the sausage-peg soup，much less knew how to prepare it．A capital toast was drunk to the inventor of the soup，and it was said he deserved to be a relieving officer．Was not that witty？And the old Mouse King stood up，and promised that the young mouse who could best prepare that soup should be his queen；and a year was allowed for the trial．”
“That was not at all bad，”said the other Mouse；“but how does one prepare this soup？”
“Ah，how is prepared？”That is just what all the young female nuce，and the old ones too，are asking．They would all very much like to be queen；but they don't want to take the trouble to go out into the world to learn how to prepare the soup，and that they would certainly have to do．But every one has not the gift of leaving the family circle and the chimney corner．Away from home one can't get cheese rinds and bacon every day．No，one must bear hunger，and perhaps be eaten up alive by a cat．”
Such were no doubt the thoughts by which most of them were scared from going out to gain information．Only four Mice announced themselves ready to depart．They were young and brisk，but poor．Each of them would go to one of the four quarters of the globe，and then it was a question which of them was favoured by fortune．Every one took a sausage-peg，so as to keep in mind the object of the journey．This was to be their pilgrim's staff．
It was at the beginning of May that they set out，and they did not return till the May of the following year；and then only three of them appeared．The fourth did not report herself，nor was there any intelligence of her，though the day of trial was close at hand．
“Yes，there's always some drawback in even the pleasantest affair，”said the Mouse King．
And then he gave orders that all mice within a circuit of many miles should be invited．They were to assemble in the kitchen，the three travelled Mice stood in a row by themselves，while a sausage-peg，shrouded in crape，was set up as a memento of the fourth，who was missing．No one was to proclaim his opinion before the three had spoken and the Mouse King had settled what was to be said fur－ther．And now let us hear．
Ⅱ WHAT THE FIRST LITTLE MOUSE
HAD SEEN AND LEARNED
IN HER TRAVELS
“When I went out into the wide world，”said the little Mouse，“I thought，as many think at my age，that I had already learned everything；but that was not the case．Years must pass before one gets so far．I went to sea at once．I went in a ship that steered towards the north．They had told me that the ship's cook must know how to manage things at sea；but it is easy enough to manage things when one has plenty of sides of bacon，and whole tubs of salt pork，and mouldy flour．One has delicate living on board；but one does not learn to prepare soup on a sausage-peg．We sailed along for many days and nights；the ship rocked fearfully，and we did not get off without a wetting．When we at last reached the port to which we were bound，I left the ship；and it was high up in the far north．
It is a wonderful thing，to go out of one's own corner at home，and sail in a ship，where one has a sort of corner too，and then suddenly to find oneself hundreds of miles away in a strange land．I saw great pathless forests of pine and birch，which smelt so strong that I sneezed，and thought of sausage．There were great lakes there too．When I came close to them the waters were quite clear，but from a distance they looked black as ink．White swans floated upon them：I thought at first they were spots of foam，they lay so still；but then I saw them walk and fly，and I recognized them．They belong to the goose family—one can see that by their walk；for no one can deny his parentage．I kept with my own kind．I associated with the forest and field mice，who，by the way，know very little，especially as regards cookery，though this was the very thing that had brought me abroad．The thought that soup might be boiled on a sausage-peg was such a startling idea to them，that it flew at once from mouth to mouth through the whole forest．They declared the problem could never be solved；and little did I think that there，on the very first night，I should be initiated into the method of its preparation．It was in the height of summer，and that，the mice said，was the reason why the wood smelt so strongly，and why the herbs were so fragrant，and the lakes so clear and yet so dark，with the white swans on them．
“On the margin of the wood，among three or four houses，a pole as tall as the mainmast of a ship had been erected，and from its summit hung wreaths and ribbons：this was called a maypole．Men and maids danced round the pole，and sang as loudly as they could，to the violin of the fiddler．There were merry doings at sundown and in the moonlight，but I took no part in them—what has a little mouse to do with a May dance？I sat in the soft moss and held my sausage-peg fast．The moon shone especially upon one spot，where a tree stood，covered with moss so fine that I may almost venture to say it was as fine as the skin of the Mouse King；but it was of a green colour，so that it was a great relief to the eye．
“All at once，the most charming little people came marching forth．They were only tall enough to reach to my knee．They looked like men，but were better proportioned：they called themselves elves，and had delicate clothes on，of flower leaves trimmed with the wings of flies and gnats，which had a very good appearance．Directly they appeared，they seemed to be seeking for something—I knew not what；but at last some of them came towards me，and the chief pointed to my sausage-peg，and said，‘That is just such a one as we want—it is pointed—it is capital！’and the longer he looked at my pilgrim's staff the more delight-ed he became．
“‘I will lend it，’I said，‘but not to keep．’
“‘Not to keep！'they all repeated；and they seized the sausage-peg，which I gave up to them，and danced away to the spot where the fine moss grew；and here they set up the peg in the midst of the green．They wanted to have a maypole of their own，and the one they now had，seemed cut out for them；and they decorated it so that it was beautiful to behold．
“First，little spiders spun it round with gold thread，and hung it all over with fluttering veils and flags，so finely woven，bleached so snowy white in the moonshine，that they dazzled my eyes．They took colours from the butterfly's wing，and strewed these over the white linen，and flowers and diamonds gleamed upon it，so that I did not know my sausage-peg again：there is not in all the world such a maypole as they had made of it．And now came the real great party of elves．They were quite without clothes，and looked as dainty as possible；and they invited me to be present；but I was to keep at a distance，for I was too large for them．
“And now began such music！It sounded like thousands of glass bells，so full，so rich，that I thought the swans were singing．I fancied also that I heard the voice of the cuckoo and the blackbird，and at last the whole forest seemed to join in．I heard children's voices，the sound of bells，and the song of birds；the most glorious melodies—and all came from the elves' maypole，namely，my sausage－peg．I should never have believed that so much could come out of it；but that depends very much upon the hands into which it falls．I was quite touched．I wept，as a little mouse may weep，with pure pleasure．
“The night was far too short；but it is not longer up yonder at that season．In the morning dawn the breeze began to blow，the mirror of the forest lake was covered with ripples，and all the delicate veils and flags fluttered away in the air．The waving garlands of spiders’ web，the hanging bridges and balustrades，and whatever else they are called，flew away as if they were nothing at all．Six elves brought me back my sausage－peg，and asked me at the same time if I had any wish that they could gratify；so I asked them if they could tell me how soup was made on a sausage-peg．
“‘How we do it？’asked the chief of the elves，with a smile．‘Why，you have just seen it．I fancy you hardly knew your sausage－peg again？’
“‘You only mean that as a joke，’I replied．And then I told them in so many words，why I had under－taken a journey，and what hopes were founded on it at home．‘What advantage，’I asked，‘can it be to our Mouse King，and to our whole powerful state，from the fact of my having witnessed all this festivity？I cannot shake it out of the sausage－peg，and say，‘Look，here is the peg，now the soup will come．’that would be a dish that could only be put on the table when the guests had dined．’
“Then the elf dipped his little finger into the cup of a blue violet，and said to me，
“‘See here！I will anoint your pilgrim's staff；and when you go back home to the castle of the Mouse King，you have but to touch his warm breast with the staff，and violets will spring forth and cover its whole staff，even in the coldest winter-time．And so I think I've given you something to carry home，and a little more than something！’
But before the little Mouse said what this“something more”was，she stretched her staff out towards the King's breast，and in very truth the most beautiful bunch of violets burst forth；and the scent was so powerful that the Mouse King incontinently ordered the mice who stood nearest the chimney to thrust their tails into the fire and create a smell of burning，for the odour of the violets was not to be borne，and was not of the kind he liked．
“But what was the ‘something more’，of which you spoke？”asked the Mouse King．
“Why，”the little Mouse answered，“I think it is what they call effect！”and herewith she turned the staff round，and Loa！there was not a single flower to be seen upon it；she only held the naked skewer，and lifted this up like a music baton．“‘Violets，’the elf said to me，‘are for sight，and smell，and touch．Therefore it yet remains to provide for hearing and taste！’”
And now the little Mouse began to beat time；and music was heard，not such as sounded in the forest among the elves，but such as is heard in the kitchen．There was a bubbling sound of boiling and roasting；and all at once it seemed as if the sound were rushing through every chimney，and pots or kettles were boiling over．The fire-shovel hammered upon the brass kettle，and then，on a sudden，all was quiet again．They heard the quiet subdued song of the tea－kettle，and it was wonderful to hear—they could not quite tell if the kettle were beginning to sing or leaving off；and the little pot simmered，and the big pot simmered，and neither cared for the other：there seemed to be no reason at all in the pots．And the little Mouse flourished her baton more and more wildly；the pots foamed，threw up large bubbles，boiled over，and the wind roared and whistled through the chimney．Oh！it became so terrible that the little Mouse lost her stick at last．
“That was a heavy soup！”said the Mouse King．“Shall we not soon hear about the preparation？”
“That was all，”said the little Mouse，with a bow．
“That all！Then we should be glad to hear what the next has to relate，”said the Mouse King．
Ⅲ WHAT THE SECOND LITTLE
MOUSE HAD TO TELL
“I was born in the palace library，”said the second Mouse．“I and several members of our family never knew the happiness of getting into the dining-room，much less into the store-room；on my journey，and here today，are the only times I have seen a kitchen．We have indeed of-ten been compelled to suffer hunger in the library，but we got a good deal of knowledge．The rumour penetrated even to us，of the royal pnize offered to those who could cook soup upon a sausage-peg；and it was my old grandmother who thereupon ferreted out a manuscript，which she certainly could not read，but which she had heard read out，and in which it was written：‘Those who are poets can boil soup upon a sausage-peg．'she asked me if I were a poet．I felt quite innocent of that，and then she told me I must go out，and manage to become one．I again asked what was required for that，for it was as difficult for me to find that out as to prepare the soup；but grandmother had heard a good deal of reading，and she said that there things were especially necessary：‘Understanding，imagination，feeling—if you can go and get these into you，you are a poet，and the sausage-peg affair will be quite easy to you．’
“And I went forth，and marched towards the west，away into the wide world，to become a poet．”
“Understanding is the most important thing in every affair．I knew that，for the two other things are not held in half such respect，and consequently I went out first to seek understanding．Yes，where does that dwell？‘Go to the ant and be wise，'said the great King of the Jews；I knew that from the library；and I never stopped till I came to the first great ant－hill，and there I placed myself on the watch，to become wise．
“The ants are a respectable people．They are under－standing itself．Everything with them is like a well－worked sum，that comes right．To word and to lay eggs，they say，is to live while you live，and to provide for posterity；and accordingly that is what they do．They were divided into the clean and the dirty ants．The rank of each is indicated by a number，and the ant queen is number ONE；and her view is the only correct one，she has absorbed all wisdom；and that was important for me to know．
She spoke so much，and it was all so clever，that it sounded to me like nonsense．She declared her ant－hill was the loftiest thing in the world；though close by it grew a tree，which was certainly loftier，much loftier，that could not be denied，and therefore it was never mentioned．One evening an ant had lost herself upon the tree；she had crept up the stem—not up to the crown，but higher than any ant had climbed until then；and when she turned，and came back home，she talked of something far higher than the ant－hill that she had found；but the other ants considered that an insult to the whole community，and consequently she was condemned to wear a muzzle，and to continual solitary confinement．
“But a short time．afterwards another ant got on the tree，and made the same journey and the same discovery：and this one spoke about it with caution and indefiniteness，as they said；and as，moreover，she was one of the pure ants and very much respected，they believed her；and when she died they erected an egg-shell as a memorial of her，for they had a great respect for the sciences．”
I saw，”continued the little Mouse，“that the ants are always running to and fro with their eggs on their backs．One of them once dropped her egg；she exerted herself greatly to pick it up again，but she could not succeed．Then two others came up，and helped her with all their might，in so much that they nearly dropped their own eggs over it；but then they stopped helping at once，for each should think of himself first—the ant queen had declared that by so doing they exhibited at once heart and under-standing．
“These two qualities，”she said，“place us ants on the highest step among all reasoning beings．Understand－in must and shall be the predominant thing，and I have the greatest share of understanding．”And so saying，she raised herself on herself on her hind legs，so that she was easily to be recognized．I could not be mistaken，and I ate her up．Go to the ant and be wise—and I had got the queen！
“I now proceeded nearer to the before－mentioned lofty tree．It was an oak，and had a great trunk and a far－spreading top，and was very old．I knew that a living be－in dwelt here，a Dryad as it is called，who is born with the tree，and dies with it．I had heard about this in the library；and now I saw an oak tree and an oak girl．She uttered a piercing cry when she saw me so near．Like all females，she was very much afraid of mice；and she had more ground for fear than others，for I might have gnawed through the stem of the tree on which her life depended．I spoke to her in a friendly and intimate way，and bade her take courage．And she took me up in her delicate hand；and when I had told her my reason for coming out into the wide world，she promised me that perhaps on that very evening I should have one of the two treasures of which I was still in quest．“She told me that Phantasy was her very good friend，that he was beautiful as the god of love，and that he rested many an hour under the leafy boughs of the tree，which then rustled more strongly than ever over the pair of them．He called her his Dryad，she said，and the tree his tree，for the grand gnarled oak was just to his taste，with its root burrowing so deep in the earth and the stem and crown rising so high out in the fresh air，and knowing the beating snow，and the sharp wind，and the warm sunshine，as they deserve to be known．‘Yes，'the Dryad continued，‘the birds sing aloft there and tell of strange countries；and on the only dead bough the stork has built a nest which is highly ornamental，and，more－over，one gets to hear something of the land of the pyramids．All that is very pleasing to Phantasy；but it is not enough for him：I myself must tell him of life in the woods．when I was little，and the tree such a delicate thing that a stinging-nettle overshadowed it—and I have to tell everything，till now that the tree is great and strong．Sit you down under the green woodruff，and pay attention；and when Phantasy cornes，I shall find an opportunity to pinch his wings，and to pull out a little feather．Take that—no better is given to any poet—and it will be enough for you！’
“And when Phantasy came the feather was plucked，and I seized it，”said the little Mouse．“I held it in water，till it grew soft．It was very hard to digest，but I nibbled it up at last．It is not at all easy to gnaw oneself into being a poet，there are so many things one must take into oneself．Now I had these two things，imagination and understand－in，and through these I knew that the third was to be found in the library；for a great man has said and written that there are romances whose sole and single use is that they relieve people of their superfluous tears，and that they are，in fact，like sponges sucking up human emotion．I remembered a few of these old books，which had always looked especially palatable，and were much thumbed and very greasy，having evidently absorbed a great deal of feel-in into themselves．
“I betook myself back to the library，and devoured nearly a whole novel—that is，the essence of it，the soft part，for I left the crust or binding．When I had digested this，and a second one in addition，I felt a stirring within me，and I ate a bit of a third romance，and now I was a poet．I said so to myself，and told the others also．I had headache，and stomach－ache，and I can't tell what aches besides．I began thinking what kind of stories could be made to refer to a sausage－peg；and many pegs came into my mind—the ant queen must have had a particularly fine understanding．I remembered the man who took a white peg in his mouth，and then both he and the peg were invisible．I thought of being screwed up a peg，of standing on one's own pegs，and of driving a peg into one's own coffin．All my thoughts ran upon pegs；and when one is a poet （and I am a poet，for I have worked most terribly hard to become one）a person can make poetry on these subjects．I shall therefore be able to wait upon you every day with a poem or a history—and that's the soup I have to offer．”
“Let us hear what the third has to say，”said the Mouse King．
“Peep！peep！”was heard at the kitchen door，and a little Mouse—it was the fourth of them，the one whom they looked upon as dead—shot on like an arrow．She toppled the sausage－peg with the crape covering over．She had been running day and night，and had travelled on the railway，in the goods train，having watched her opportunity，and yet she had almost come too late．She pressed forward，looking very much rumpled，and she had lost her sausage-peg，but not her voice，for she at once took up the word，as if they had been waiting only for her，and wanted to hear none but her，and as if everything else in the world were of no consequence．She spoke at once，and spoke fully：she had appeared so suddenly that no one found time to object to her speech or to her，while she was speaking．And now let us hear her．
Ⅳ WHAT ThE FOURTH MOUSE，
WHO SPOKE BEFORE THE
THIRD HAD SPOKEN，HAD TO TELL
“I went immediately to the largest town，”she said；“the name has escaped me—I have a bad memory for names．From the railway I was carried，with some confiscated goods，to the council－house，and there I ran into the dwelling of the jailer．The jailer was talking of his prisoners，and especially of one，who had spoken unconsidered words．These words had given rise to others，and these latter had been written down and recorded．
“‘The whole thing is soup on a sausage－peg，’said the jailer；‘but the soup may cost him his neck．’
“Now，this gave me an interest in the prisoner，”continued the Mouse，“and I watched my opportunity and slipped into his prison—for there's a mouse－hole to be found behind every locked door．The prisoner looked pale，and had a great beard and bright sparkling eyes．The lamp smoked，but the walls were so accustomed to that，that they grew none the blacker for it．The prisoner scratched pictures and verses in white upon the black ground，but I did not read them．I think he found it tedious，and I was a welcome guest．
“He lured me with bread crumbs，with whistling，and with friendly words：he was glad to see me，and I got to trust him，and we became friends．He shared with me his bread and water，gave me cheese and sausage；I lived well，but I must say that it was especially the good society that kept me there．He let me run upon his hand，his arm，and into his sleeve；he let me creep about in his beard，and called me his little friend．I really got to love him，for these things are reciprocal．I forgot my mission in the wide world，forgot my sausage－peg in a crack in the floor—it's lying there still．I wished to stay where I was，for if I went away the poor prisoner would have no one at all，and that's having too little，in this world．I stayed，but he did not stay．He spoke to me very mourn－fully the last time，gave me twice as much bread and cheese as usual，and kissed his hand to me；then he went away，and never came back．I don't know his history．
“‘Soup on a sausage－peg！’said the jailer，to whom I now went；but I should not have trusted him．He took me in his hand，certainly，but he popped me into a cage，a treadmill．That's a horrible engine，in which you go round and round without getting any farther；and people laugh at you into the bargain．
“The jailer's granddaughter was a charming little thing，with a mass of curly hair that shone like gold，and such merry eyes，and such a smiling mouth！
“‘You poor little mouse，’she said，as she peeped into my ugly cage；and she drew out the iron rod，and forth I jumped to the window board，and from thence to the roof spout．Free！free！I thought only of that，and not of the goal of my journey．
“It was dark，and night was coming on．I took up my quarters in an old tower，where dwelt a watchman and an owl．I trusted neither of them，and the owl least．That is a creature like a cat，who has the great failing that she eats mice．But one may be mistaken，and so was I，for this was a very respectable，well－educated old owl：she knew more than the watchman，and as much as I．The young owls were always making a racket；but‘Do not make soup on a sausage－peg’ were the hardest words she could prevail on herself to utter，she was so fondly attached to her family．Her conduct inspired me with so much condfidence，that from the crack in which I was crouching I called out‘Peep！’to her．This confidence of mine pleased her hugely，and she assured me I should be under her protection，and that no creature should be al－lowed to do me wrong；she would reserve me for herself，for the winter，when there would be short commons．
“She was in every respect a clever woman，and explained to me how the watchman could only‘whoop’with the horn that hung at his side，adding，‘He is terribly conceited about it，and imagines he's an owl in the tower．Wants to do great things，but is very smal1—soup on a sausage－peg！’
“I begged the owl to give me the recipe for this soup，and then she explained the matter to me．
“‘Soup on a sausage－peg，'she said，‘was only a human proverb，and was understood in different ways：Each thinks his own way the best，but the whole really signifies nothing．’
“‘Nothing！’I exclaimed．I was quite struck．Truth is not always agreeable，hut truth is above everything；and that's what the old owl said．I now thought about it，and readily perceived that if I brought what was above everything I brought something far beyond soup on a sausage－peg．So I hastened away，that I might get home in time，and bring the highest and best，that is above everything—namely，the truth．The mice are an enlightened people，and the King is above them all．He is capable of making me Queen，for the sake of truth．”
“Your truth is a falsehood，”said the Mouse who had not yet spoken．“I can prepare the soup，and I mean to prepare it．”
Ⅴ HOW IT WAS PREPARED
“I did not travel，”the third Mouse said．“I remained in my country—that's the right thing to do．There's no necessity for travelling；one can get everything as good here．I stayed at home．I've not learned what I know from supernatural beings，or gobbled it up，or held converse with owls．I have what I know through my own reflections．Will you just put that kettle upon the fire and get water poured in up to the brim！Now make up the fire，that the water may boil—it must boil over and over！Now throw the peg in．Will the King now be pleased to dip his tail in the boiling water，and to stir it round？The longer the King stirs it，the more powerful will the soup become．It costs nothing at all—no further materials are necessary，only stir it round！”
“Cannot any one else do that？”asked the Mouse king．
“No，”replied the Mouse．“The power is contained only in the tail of the Mouse King．”
And the water boiled and bubbled，and the Mouse King stood close beside the kettle—there was almost danger in it—and he put forth his tail，as the mice do in the dairy，when they skim the cream from a pan of milk，and afterwards lick the tail；but he only got his into the hot steam，and then he sprang hastily down from the hearth．
“Of course—certainly you are my Queen，”he said．“We'll wait for the soup till our golden wedding，so that the poor of my subjects may have something to which they can look forward with pleasure for a long time．”
And soon the wedding was held．But many of the mice said，as they were returning home，that it could not be really called soup on a sausage－peg，but rather soup on a mouse's tail．They said that some of the stories had been very cleverly told；but the whole thing might have been different．“I should have told it so—and so—and so！”
Thus said the critics，who are always wise—after the fact．
And this story went round the world；and opinions varied concerning it，but the story remained as it was．And that's the best in great things and in small，so also with regard to soup on a sausage－peg—not to expect any thanks for it．
香肠栓熬的汤
1 香肠栓熬的汤
“昨天有一个出色的宴会！”一个年老的女耗子对一个没有参加这盛会的耗子说。“我在离老耗子王的第21个座位上坐着，所以我的座位也不算太坏！你要不要听听菜单子？出菜的次序安排得非常好——发霉的面包、腊肉皮、蜡烛头、香肠——接着同样的菜又从头到尾再上一次。这简直等于两次连续的宴会。大家的心情很欢乐，闲聊了一些愉快的话，像跟自己家里的人在一起一样。什么都吃光了，只剩下香肠尾巴上的香肠栓。我们于是就谈起香肠栓来，接着就谈起‘香肠栓熬的汤’这个问题。的确，每个人都听到过这个成语，但是谁也没有尝过这种汤，更谈不上知道怎样去熬它。大家提议：谁发明这种汤，就为他干一杯，因为这样的人配做一个济贫院的院长！这句话不是很有风趣的么？老耗子王站起来说，谁会把这种汤做得最好吃，他就把她立为皇后。研究时间为一年。”
“这倒很不坏！”另一个耗子说；“不过这种汤的做法是怎样呢？”
“是的，怎样做法呢？”这正是所有的女耗子——年轻的和年老的——所要问的一个问题。她们都想当皇后，但是她们却怕麻烦，不愿意跑到广大的世界里去学习做这种汤；而她们却非这样办不可！不过每个耗子都没有离开家和那些自己所熟悉的角落的本事。在外面谁也不能找到乳饼壳或者臭腊肉皮吃。不，谁也会挨饿，可能还会被猫子活活地吃掉呢。
无疑地，这种思想把大部分的耗子都吓住了，不敢到外面去求得知识。只有4只耗子站出来说，她们愿意出去，她们是年轻活泼的，可是很穷。世界有4个方向，她们每位想去一个方向；问题是谁的运气最好。每位带着一根香肠栓，为的是不要忘记这次旅行的目的。她们把它当作旅行的手杖。
她们是在5月初出发的。到第二年5月开始的时候，她们才回来。不过她们只有三位报到。第四位不见了，也没有送来任何关于她的消息，而现在已经是决赛的日期了。
“最愉快的事情也总不免有悲哀的成分！”耗子王说。然后他下了一道命令，把周围几里路以内的耗子都请来。她们将在厨房里集合。那三位旅行过的耗子将单独站在一排；至于那个失了踪的第4个耗子，大家竖了一个香肠栓，上面挂着一块黑纱作为纪念。在那三只耗子没有发言以前，在耗子王没有作补充讲话以前，谁也不能发表意见。
现在我们听吧！
2 第一只小耗子的旅行见闻
“当我走到茫茫的大世界里去的时候，”小耗子说，“像许多与我年纪相仿的耗子一样，我以为我已经知道了所有的东西。不过实际情况不是这样。一个人要花许多年的工夫才能达到这种目的。我立刻动身航海去。我坐在一条开往北方的船上。我听说，在海上当厨子的人要知道在海上怎样随机应变。不过如果一个人有许多腊肉、整桶的腌肉和发霉的面粉的时候，随机应变也就够容易了。船上的人们吃得很讲究！但是人们却没有办法学会用香肠栓做汤。我们航行了许多天和许多夜。船簸动得很厉害，我们身上都打湿了。当我们最后到达了我们要去的地方的时候，我就离开了船。那是在遥远的北方。
“离开自己家里的一个角落远行，真是一件快事。坐在船上，你当然也算是有一个角落。但是忽然间你却来到数百里以外的地方，住在外国。那里有许多原始森林，长满了松树和赤杨。它们发出的香气是太强烈了！[这个我不太喜欢！这些原始植物发出辛辣的气味，]弄得我打起喷嚏来，同时也想起香肠来。那儿还有许多大湖。我走近一看，水是非常清亮的；不过在远处看来，湖水都是像墨一般地黑。白色的天鹅浮在湖水上面，起初我以为天鹅是泡沫。它们一动也不动。不过当我看到它们飞和走动的时候，我就认出它们了。它们属于鹅这个家族，从它们走路的样子就可以看得出来。谁也隐藏不住自己的家族的外貌！我总是跟我的族人在一起。我总是跟松鼠和田鼠来往。它们无知得可怕，特别是关于烹调的事情——我出国去旅行也是为了这个问题。我们认为香肠栓可以做汤的这种想法，在他们看来，简直是惊人的思想。所以这件事立刻就传遍了整个的森林。不过他们认为这件事是无论如何也做不到的。我也没有想到，就在这儿，在这天晚上，我居然探求到做这汤的秘法。这时正是炎热的夏天，因此——它们说——树林才发出这样强烈的气味，草才是那么香，湖水才是那么黑而亮，上面还浮着白色的天鹅。
“在树林的边缘上，在三四座房屋之间，竖着一根竿子。它和船的主桅差不多一般高，顶上悬着花环和缎带。这就是大家所谓的5月柱。年轻女子和男子围着它跳舞，配合着提琴手所奏出的提琴调子，高声唱歌。太阳下山以后，他们还在月光中尽情地欢乐了一番，不过我却没有加入他们的狂欢——一个小耗子跟一个森林舞会有什么关系呢？我坐在柔软的青苔上，紧紧地捏着我的香肠栓。月亮特别照着一块地方。这儿有一株树，这儿的青苔长得真嫩——的确，我相信比得上耗子王的皮肤。不过它的颜色是绿的；这对于眼睛说来，是非常舒服的。
“忽然间，一群最可爱的小人物大步地走出来了。他们的身高只能达到我的膝盖。他们的样子像人，不过他们的身材长得很匀称。他们把自己叫做山精；他们穿着用花瓣做的漂亮衣服，边缘上还饰着苍蝇和蚊蚋的翅膀，很好看。他们一出现就好像是要找什么东西——我不知道是什么。不过他们有几位终于向我走来；他们的首领指着我的香肠栓，说：‘这正是我们所要的那件东西！——它是尖的——它再好也没有！’他越看我的旅行杖，就越感到高兴。
“‘你们可以把它借去，’我说，‘但是不能不还！’
“‘不能不还！’他们都重复着说。于是他们就把香肠栓拿去了。我也只好让他们拿去。他们拿着它跳舞，一直跳到长满了嫩青苔的那块地方。他们把香肠栓插在这儿的绿地上。他们也想有他们自己的5月柱，而他们现在所得到的一根似乎正合他们的心意。他们把它装饰了一番。这真值得一看！
“首先，小小的蜘蛛们在它上面织出一些金丝，然后在它上面挂起飘扬的幔纱和旗帜。它们是织得那么细致，在月光里被漂得那么雪白，把我的眼睛都弄花了。他们从蝴蝶翅膀上摄取颜色，把这些颜色撒在白纱上，而白纱上又闪着花朵和珍珠，弄得我再也认不出我的香肠栓了。像这样的5月柱，世界上再也找不出第二根。现在那一大队的山精到场了。他们什么衣服也没有穿，然而他们是再文雅不过了。他们请我也去参加这个盛会，但是我得保持相当的距离，因为对他们说来，我的体积是太大了。
“现在音乐也开始了！这简直像几千只铃儿在响，声音又圆润又响亮。我真以为这是天鹅在唱歌呢。我也觉得我可以听到了杜鹃和画眉的声音。最后，整个的树林似乎都奏起音乐来了。我听到孩子的说话声，铃的铿锵声和鸟儿的歌唱声。这都是最美的旋律，而且都是从山精的5月柱上发出来的，也就是说，从我的香肠栓上发出来的。我从来也没有想过，它会奏出这么多的音调，不过这要看它落到了什么人的手中。我非常感动；我快乐得哭起来，像一个小耗子那样哭。
“夜是太短了！不过在这个季节里，它是不能再长了。风在天刚亮的时候就吹起来，树林里一平如镜的湖面上出现了一层细细的波纹，飘荡着的幔纱和旗帜都飞到空中去了。蜘蛛网所形成的波浪形的花圈，吊桥和栏杆以及诸如此类的东西，从这片叶子飞到那片叶子上，都化为乌有。6个山精把我的香肠栓扛回送还给我，同时问我有没有什么要求，他们可以让我满足。因此我就请他们告诉我怎样用香肠栓做出汤来。
“‘我们怎样做吗？’山精们的首领带笑他说。‘嗨，你刚才已经亲眼看到过了！你再也认不出你的香肠栓吧？’
“‘你说得倒轻松！’我回答说。于是我就直截了当地把我旅行的目的告诉他，并且也告诉他，家里的人对于我这次旅行所抱的希望。‘我在这儿所看到的这种欢乐景象，’我问，‘对我们耗子王和对我们整个强大的国家，有什么用呢？我不能够把这香肠栓摇几摇，说：看呀，香肠栓就在这儿，汤马上就出来了！恐怕这种菜只有当客人吃饱了饭以后才能拿出来！’
“这山精于是把他的小指头按进一朵蓝色的紫罗兰花里去，同时对我说：
“‘请看吧！我要在你的旅行杖上擦点油；当你回到耗子王的宫殿里去的时候，你只须把这手杖朝他温暖的胸口顶一下，手杖上就会开满了紫罗兰花，甚至在最冷的冬天也是这样。所以你总算带了一点什么东西回去——恐怕还不止一点什么东西呢！’”
不过在这小耗子还没有说明这个“一点什么东西”以前，她就把旅行杖伸到耗子王的胸口上去。真的，一束最美丽的紫罗兰花开出来了。花儿的香气非常强烈，耗子王马上下一道命令，要那些站得离烟囱最近的耗子把尾巴伸进火里去，以便烧出一点焦味来，因为紫罗兰的香味使他吃不消；这完全不是他所喜欢的那种气味。
“不过你刚才说的‘一点什么东西’究竟是什么呢？”耗子王问。
“哎，”小耗子说，“我想这就是人们所谓的‘效果’吧！”她就把这旅行杖掉转过来。它上面马上一朵花也没有了。她手中只是握着一根光秃秃的棍子。她把它举起来，像一根乐队指挥棒。
“‘紫罗兰花是为视觉、嗅觉和感觉而开出来的，’那个山精告诉过我，‘因此它还没有满足听觉和味觉的要求。’”
于是小耗子开始打拍子，音乐奏出来了——不是树林中山精欢乐会的那种音乐；不是的，是我们在厨房中所听到的那种音乐。乖乖！一阵煮东西和烤档西的噗噗声响起来！这声音是忽然而来，好像风灌进了每个烟囱管似的；锅儿和罐儿沸腾得不可开交；大铲子在黄铜壶上乱敲；接着，在不意之间，一切又忽然变得沉寂。人们听到茶壶发出低沉的声音。说来也奇怪，谁也不知道，它究竟是快要结束呢，还是刚刚开始唱。小罐子在滚滚地沸腾着，大罐子也在滚滚地沸腾着；它们谁也不关心谁，好像罐子都失去了理智似的。小耗子挥动着她的指挥棒，越挥越激烈；罐子发出泡沫，冒出大泡，沸腾得不可开交；风儿在号，烟囱在叫。哎呀！这真是可怕，弄得小耗子最后自己把指挥棒也扔掉了。
“这种汤可不轻松！”老耗子王说。“现在是不是要把它拿出来吃呢？”
“这就是汤呀！”小耗子说，同时鞠了一躬。
“这就是吗？好吧，我们听听第二位能讲些什么吧，”耗子王说。
3 第二只小耗子讲的故事
“我是在宫里的图书馆里出生的，”第二只耗子说。“我和我家里别的人从来没有福气到餐厅里去过，更谈不上到食物储藏室里去。只有在旅途中和今天的这种场合，我才第一次看到了厨房。我们在图书馆里，的确常常在挨饿，但是我们却得到不少的知识。我们听到一个谣传，说谁能够在香肠栓上做出汤来，谁就可以获得皇家的奖金。我的老祖母因此就拉出一卷手稿来。她当然是不会念的，但是她却听到别人念过。那上面写道：‘凡是能写诗的人，都能在香肠栓上做出汤来。’她问我是不是一个诗人。我说我对于此道一窍不通。她说我得到外面去，想办法做一个诗人。于是我问做诗人的条件是什么，因为这对于我说来是跟做汤一样困难。不过祖母听到许多人念过。她说，这必须具有三个主要的条件：‘理解、想象和感觉！如果你能够使你具备这几样东西，你就会成为一个诗人，那么香肠栓这类事儿也就自然很容易了。’
“于是我就出去了，向西方走，到茫茫的大世界里去，为的是要成为一个诗人。
“我知道，最重要的东西是理解。其余的两件东西不会得到同样的重视！因此我第一件事就是去追求理解。是的，理解住在什么地方呢？“到蚂蚁那儿去，就可以得到智慧！”犹太人的伟大国王这样说过。我是从图书馆中知道这事情的。在我来到第一个大蚁山以前，我一直没有停步。我待在这儿观察，希望变得聪明。
“蚂蚁是一个非常值得尊敬的种族。他们本身就是‘理解’。他们所做的每件事情，像计算好了的数学题一样，总是正确的。他们说，工作和生蛋的意义就是为现在生活，为子孙谋福，而他们就是照这个宗旨行事的。他们把自己分成为清洁的和肮脏的两种蚂蚁。他们的等级是用一个数目来代表的；蚂蚁皇后是第一号。她的见解是唯一正确的见解，因为她已经吸收了所有的智慧。认识这一点，对我说来是很重要的。
“她的话说得很多，而且说得都很聪明，叫我听起来很像废话。她说她的蚁山是世界上最高大的东西，但是蚁山旁边就有一棵树，而且比起它来，不消说要高大得多——这是不可否认的事实，因此关于这树她就一字不提。一天晚上，有一只蚂蚁在这树上失踪了。他沿着树干爬上去，但并没有爬到树顶上去——只是爬到别的蚂蚁还没有爬到过的高度。当他回到家来的时候，他谈论起他所发现的比蚁山还要高的东西。但是别的蚂蚁都认为他的这番话对于整个蚂蚁社会是一种侮辱，因此这只蚂蚁就受到惩罚，戴上了一个口罩，并且永远被隔离开来。
“不久以后，另一只蚂蚁爬到树上去了。他做了同样的旅行，而且发现了同样的东西。不过这只蚂蚁谈论这件事情的时候，采取一种大家所谓的谨慎和模糊的态度，此外他是一只有身份的蚂蚁，而且是纯种，因此大家就都相信他的话。当他死了以后，大家就用蚂蚁蛋壳为他立了一个纪念碑，表示他们都尊敬科学。”
小耗子继续说：“我看到蚂蚁老是背着他们的蛋跑来跑去，他们有一位把蛋跑掉了；他费了很大的气力想把它捡起来，但是没有成功。这时另外两只蚂蚁来了，尽他们最大的努力来帮助他，结果他们自己背着的蛋也几乎弄得滚下来了。所以他们就立刻不管了。因为人们得先考虑自己——而且蚂蚁皇后也谈过这样的问题，说这种做法既可表示出同情心，同时又可表示出理解。
这两个方面‘使我们蚂蚁在一切有理智的动物中占最高的位置。理解应该是、而且一定是最主要的东西，而我在这方面恰恰最突出！’于是她就用她的后腿站起来，好使得人们一眼就可以看清她……我再也不会弄错了；我一口把她吃掉。到蚁群中去，学习智慧吧！我都装进肚皮里去了！
“我现在向刚才说的那株大树走去。它是一棵栎树，有很高的躯干和浓密的树顶；它的年纪也很老。我知道这儿住着一个生物。——人们把她叫树精；她跟树一起生下来，也跟树一起死去。这件事是我在图书馆里听到的；现在我算是看到这样一棵树和这样一个栎树精了。当她看到我走得很近的时候，她就发出一个可怕的尖叫声来。像所有的女人一样，她非常害怕耗子。比起别人来，她更有害怕的理由，因为我可以把树咬断，她没有树就没有生命。我以一种和蔼和热诚的态度和她谈话，给她勇气。她把我拿到她柔嫩的手里。当她知道了我旅行到这个茫茫大世界里来的目的时，她答应我说，可能就在这天晚上我会得到我所追求的两件宝物之一。
“她告诉我说，幻想是她最好的朋友，他像爱神一样美丽，他常常到这树枝的浓叶中来休息——这时树枝就在他们两人头上摇得更起劲。她说：他把她叫做树精，而这树就是他的树，因为这棵瘤疤很多的老栎树是他所喜爱的一棵树，它的根深深地钻进土里，它的躯干和冠顶高高地伸到新鲜的空气中去，它对于飘着的雪、锐利的风和暖和的太阳，知道得比任何人都清楚。‘是的，’她继续说，‘鸟儿在那上面唱着歌，讲着一些关于异国的故事！在那唯一的死枝上鹳鸟筑了一个与树儿非常相称的窝，人们可以从它们那里听到一些关于金字塔的国度的事情。幻想非常喜欢这类的事情，但是这还不能满足他。我还把这树在我小时的生活告诉他；那时这树很嫩，连一棵荨麻都可以把它掩盖住——我得一直讲到这树怎么长得现在这样粗大为止。请你在车叶草下面坐着，注意看吧。当幻想到来的时候，我将要找一个机会来捻住他的翅膀，扯下他的一根小羽毛来。把这羽毛拿去吧——任何诗人都不能得到比这更好的东西——你有这就够了！’
“当幻想到来的时候，羽毛就被拔下一根来了。我赶快把它抢过来，”小耗子说。“我把它捏着放在水里，使它变得柔软！把它吃下去是很不容易的，但我却把它啃掉了！现在我已经有了两件东西：幻想和理解。通过这两件东西，我知道第三件就可以在图书馆里找得到了。一位伟人曾经写过和说过：有些长篇小说唯一的功用是它们能够减轻人们多余的眼泪，因为它们是像海绵一样，能把情感吸收进去。我记起一两本这类的老书；我觉得它们很合人的胃口；它们不知被人翻过多少次，油腻得很，无疑地它们已经吸收了许多人们的感情。
“我回到那个图书馆里去，生吞活剥地啃掉了一整部长篇小说——这也就是说，啃掉了它柔软的部分，它的精华，它的书皮和装订我一点也没有动。我把它消化了，接着又啃掉了一本。这时我已经感觉它们在身体内动起来，于是我又把第三本咬了几口。这样我就成了一个诗人了。我对我自己这样讲，对别人也这样讲。我有点头痛，有点胃痛，还有我讲不出来的一些别种的痛。我开始思索那些与香肠栓联系起来的故事。于是我心中就想起了许多香肠栓，这一定是因为那位蚂蚁皇后有特别细致的理解力的原故。我记得有一个人把一根白色的木栓塞进嘴里去，于是他和那根木栓都变得看不见了。我想到浸在陈啤酒里的木栓、垫东西的木栓、塞东西的木栓和钉棺材的木栓。我所有的思想都环绕着栓而活动！当一个人是诗人的时候，他就可以用诗把这表达出来；而我是一个诗人，因为我费了很大的气力来做一个诗人！因此每星期，每一天，我都可以用一个栓——一个故事——来侍候你。是的，这就是我的汤。”
“我们听听第三位有什么话讲吧！”耗子王说。
“吱！吱！”这是厨房门旁发出的一个声音。于是一只小耗子——她就是大家认为死去了的第四只耗子——像箭一样快地跳出来了。她绊倒了那根系着黑纱的香肠栓。她一直日夜都在跑，只要她有机会，她不惜在铁路上坐着货车走，虽然如此，她几乎还是要迟到了。她一口气冲进来，全身的毛非常乱。她已经失去了她的香肠栓，可是却没有失去她的声音，因此她就立刻发言，好像大家只是在等着她、等着听她讲话，除此以外，世界上再没有别的重要事情似的。她立刻发言，把她所要讲的话全都讲了出来。她来得这么突然，当她在讲话的时候，谁也没有时间来反对她或她的演说词。现在我们且听听吧！
4 第四只耗子在第三只耗子
没有发言以前所讲的故事
“我立刻就到一个最大的城市里去，”她说。“这城的名字我可记不起来了——我老是记不住名字。我乘着载满没收物资的火车到市政府去。然后我跑到监狱看守那里去。他谈起他的犯人，特别谈到一个讲了许多鲁莽话的犯人。这些话引起另外许多话，而这另外许多话被写下来，记录备案。
“‘这完全是一套香肠栓熬的汤，’他说；‘但这汤可能弄得他掉脑袋！’
“这引起了我对于那个犯人的兴趣，”小耗子说，“于是我就找到一个机会，溜到他的牢房里去——因为在锁着的门后面总会有一个耗子洞的！犯人的面色惨白，满脸都是胡子，眼睛明亮，闪闪发光。灯在冒着烟，不过墙壁早已习惯于这烟了，所以它并不显得比烟更黑。这犯人在黑色的墙上画出了一些白色的图画和诗句，不过我读不懂。我想他一定感到很无聊，而欢迎我这个客人的。他用面包屑，用口哨和一些友善的字眼来诱惑我：他很高兴看到我，而我也只好信任他；因此我们就成了朋友。
“他把他的面包和水分给我吃；他还送给我乳饼和香肠。我生活得很阔绰。我得承认，主要是因为这样好的交情我才在那儿住下来。他让我在他的手中，在他的臂上乱跑；让我钻进他的袖子里去，让我在他的胡子里爬；他还把我叫做他的小朋友。我的确非常喜欢他，因为我们应该礼尚往来！我忘记了我在这个广大世界里旅行的任务，我忘记了放在地板裂缝里的香肠栓——它还藏在那儿。我希望住下来，因为如果我离开了，这位可怜的犯人就没有什么朋友了——像这样活在世界上就太没有意义了！我呆下来了，可是他却没有呆下来。在最后的一次，他跟我说得很伤心，给了我比平时多一倍的面包和乳饼皮，用他的手对我飞吻。他离去了，再也没有回来，我不知道他的结果。
“‘香肠栓熬的汤！’看守说——我现在到他那儿去了，但是我真不该信任他。的确，他也把我放在他的手里，不过他却把我关进一个笼子里——一部踏车里去了。这真可怕！你在里面转来转去，一步也不能向前走，只是叫大家笑你！
“看守的孙女是一个可爱的小东西。她的卷发是那么金黄，她的眼睛是那么快乐，她的小嘴老是在笑。
“‘你这个可怜的小耗子！’她说，同时偷偷地向我的这个丑恶的笼子里看。她把那根铁插销抽掉了，于是我就跳到窗板上，然后从那儿再跳到屋顶上的水笕里去。自由了！自由了！我只能想这件事情，我旅行的目的现在顾不到了。
“天很黑，夜到来了。我藏进一座古老的塔里面去。这儿住着一个守塔人和一只猫头鹰。这两位我谁也不能信任，特别是那只猫头鹰。这家伙很像一只猫，有一个喜欢吃耗子的大缺点。不过人们很容易看不清真相，我就是这样。这家伙是一个非常有礼貌、非常有教养的老猫头鹰。她的知识跟我一样丰富，比那个守塔人还要丰富。年轻的猫头鹰们对于什么事情都是大惊小怪；但她只是说：‘不要弄什么香肠栓熬汤吧！’她是那么疼爱她的家庭，她所说的最厉害的话也不过是如此。她的行为激起了我对她的信任，我从我躲藏的小洞里叫了一声：‘吱！’我对她的信任使她非常高兴。她答应保护我，不准任何生物伤害我。她要把我留下来，留待粮食不足的冬天给她自己受用。
“无论从哪方面讲，她要算是一个聪明人。她向我解释，说守塔人只能‘吹几下’挂在他身边的那个号角：‘他因此就觉得了不起，以为他就是塔上的猫头鹰！他想要做大事情，但是他却是一个小人物——香肠栓熬的汤！’
“我要求猫头鹰给我做这汤的食谱。于是她就解释给我听。
“‘香肠栓熬的汤，’她说，‘只不过是人间的一个成语罢了。每人对它有自己不同的体会：各人总以为自己的体会最恰当，不过事实上这整个的事儿没有丝毫意义！’
“‘没有丝毫意义！’我说。这使我大吃一惊！真理并不是老使人高兴的事情，但是真理高于一切。老猫头鹰也是这样说的。我想了一想，我觉得，如果我把‘高于一切的东西’带回的话，那么我倒是带回了一件价值比香肠栓汤要高得多的东西呢。因此我就赶快离开，好使我能早点回家，带回最高、最好的东西——真理。耗子是一个开明的种族，而耗子王则是他们之中最开明的。为了尊重真理，他是可能立我为皇后的。”
“你的真理却是谎言！”那个还没有发言的耗子说。“我能做这汤，而且我说得到就做得到！”
5 汤是怎样熬的
“我并没有去旅行，”第三只耗子说。“我留在国内——这样做是正确的！我们没有旅行的必要，我们在这儿同样可以得到好的东西。我没有走！我的知识并不是从神怪的生物那儿得来的，也不是狼吞虎咽地啃来的，也不是跟猫头鹰说话学来的，我是从自己的思索中得来的。请你们把水壶拿来，装满水吧！请把水壶下面的火点起来吧！让水煮开吧——它得滚开！好，请把栓放进去！现在请国王陛下把尾巴伸进开水里去搅几下！陛下搅得越久，汤就熬得越浓。它并不花费什么东西！并不需要别的什么材料——只须搅它就得了！”
“是不是别的耗子可以做这事情呢？”国王问。
“不成，”耗子说，“只有耗子王的尾巴有这种威力。”
水在沸腾着。耗子王站在水壶旁边——这可算说是一种危险的事儿。他把他的尾巴伸出来，好像别的耗子在牛奶房的那副样儿——它们用尾巴挑起盘子里的乳皮，然后再去舔这尾巴。不过他把他的尾巴伸进滚水里没有多久就赶快跳开了。
“不成问题——你是我的皇后了！”他说。“我们等到我们金婚节的时候再来熬这汤吧，这样我们穷苦的子民就可以在很长一段时间里都抱着快乐的期望生活！”
于是他们马上就举行了婚礼。不过许多耗子回到家来的时候说：“我们不能把这叫做香肠栓熬的汤：它应该叫做耗子尾巴做的汤才对！”他们说，故事中有些地方讲得很好；可是整个的事儿不一定要这样讲。
“我就会如此这般地讲，不会别样讲！——”
这是批评家说的话。他们总是事后聪明的。
这个故事传遍了全世界。关于它的意见很多，不过这个故事本身保持了它的原样，不管大事也好，小事也好，能做到这种地步就要算是最好的了，香肠栓做的汤也是如此。不过要想因此而得到感激可就错了！
在1858—1872年间，安徒生把他写的童话作品以《新的童话和故事》的书名出版。这篇作品收集在1858年3月2日出版这本书的第1卷第1部里。安徒生在他的手记中写道：“在我们的谚语和成语中，有时就蕴藏着一个故事的种子。我曾经讨论过这个问题，作为证明我就写了《香肠栓熬的汤》这篇故事。”这个故事的篇名是丹麦的一个成语，意思是：“闲扯大半天，都是废话！”这篇故事确有点像闲扯，但不无寓意：“我留在国内——这样做是正确的！……我在这儿同样可以得到好的东西。我没有走！我的知识并不是从神怪生物那儿得来的……我是从自己的思索中得来的。”人云亦云，“随大流”，自己不用头脑，花了一大堆气力，其结果倒要真像“香肠栓熬的汤”了。