The King of the Golden River
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John Ruskin >> The King of the Golden River
When they were gone, Gluck took a farewell look at his old friend
in the melting pot. The flowing hair was all gone; nothing
remained but the red nose and the sparkling eyes, which looked
more malicious than ever. "And no wonder," thought Gluck, "after
being treated in that way." He sauntered disconsolately to the
window and sat himself down to catch the fresh evening air and
escape the hot breath of the furnace. Now this window commanded
a direct view of the range of mountains which, as I told you
before, overhung the Treasure Valley, and more especially of the
peak from which fell the Golden River. It was just at the close
of the day, and when Gluck sat down at the window, he saw the
rocks of the mountain tops, all crimson and purple with the
sunset; and there were bright tongues of fiery cloud burning and
quivering about them; and the river, brighter than all, fell, in
a waving column of pure gold, from precipice to precipice, with
the double arch of a broad purple rainbow stretched across it,
flushing and fading alternately in the wreaths of spray.
"Ah!" said Gluck aloud, after he had looked at it for a little
while, "if that river were really all gold, what a nice thing it
would be."
"No, it wouldn't, Gluck," said a clear, metallic voice close at
his ear.
"Bless me, what's that?" exclaimed Gluck, jumping up. There was
nobody there. He looked round the room and under the table and a
great many times behind him, but there was certainly nobody
there, and he sat down again at the window. This time he didn't
speak, but he couldn't help thinking again that it would be very
convenient if the river were really all gold.
"Not at all, my boy," said the same voice, louder than before.
"Bless me!" said Gluck again, "what is that?" He looked again
into all the corners and cupboards, and then began turning round
and round as fast as he could, in the middle of the room,
thinking there was somebody behind him, when the same voice
struck again on his ear. It was singing now, very merrily, "Lala-
lira-la"--no words, only a soft, running, effervescent melody,
something like that of a kettle on the boil. Gluck looked out of
the window; no, it was certainly in the house. Upstairs and
downstairs; no, it was certainly in that very room, coming in
quicker time and clearer notes every moment: "Lala-lira-la." All
at once it struck Gluck that it sounded louder near the furnace.
He ran to the opening and looked in. Yes, he saw right; it
seemed to be coming not only out of the furnace but out of the
pot. He uncovered it, and ran back in a great fright, for the
pot was certainly singing! He stood in the farthest corner of
the room, with his hands up and his mouth open, for a minute or
two, when the singing stopped and the voice became clear and
pronunciative.
"Hollo!" said the voice.
Gluck made no answer.
"Hollo! Gluck, my boy," said the pot again.
Gluck summoned all his energies, walked straight up to the
crucible, drew it out of the furnace, and looked in. The gold
was all melted and its surface as smooth and polished as a river,
but instead of reflecting little Gluck's head, as he looked in he
saw, meeting his glance from beneath the gold, the red nose and
sharp eyes of his old friend of the mug, a thousand times redder
and sharper than ever he had seen them in his life.
"Come, Gluck, my boy," said the voice out of the pot again, "I'm
all right; pour me out."
But Gluck was too much astonished to do anything of the kind.
"Pour me out, I say," said the voice rather gruffly.
Still Gluck couldn't move.
"WILL you pour me out?" said the voice passionately. "I'm too
hot."
By a violent effort Gluck recovered the use of his limbs, took
hold of the crucible, and sloped it, so as to pour out the gold.
But instead of a liquid stream there came out, first a pair of
pretty little yellow legs, then some coat tails, then a pair of
arms stuck akimbo, and finally the well-known head of his friend
the mug--all which articles, uniting as they rolled out, stood up
energetically on the floor in the shape of a little golden dwarf
about a foot and a half high.
"That's right!" said the dwarf, stretching out first his legs and
then his arms, and then shaking his head up and down and as far
round as it would go, for five minutes without stopping,
apparently with the view of ascertaining if he were quite
correctly put together, while Gluck stood contemplating him in
speechless amazement. He was dressed in a slashed doublet of
spun gold, so fine in its texture that the prismatic colors
gleamed over it as if on a surface of mother-of-pearl; and over
this brilliant doublet his hair and beard fell full halfway to
the ground in waving curls, so exquisitely delicate that Gluck
could hardly tell where they ended; they seemed to melt into air.
The features of the face, however, were by no means finished with
the same delicacy; they were rather coarse, slightly inclining to
coppery in complexion, and indicative, in expression, of a very
pertinacious and intractable disposition in their small
proprietor. When the dwarf had finished his self-examination,
he turned his small, sharp eyes full on Gluck and stared at him
deliberately for a minute or two. "No, it wouldn't, Gluck, my
boy," said the little man.
This was certainly rather an abrupt and unconnected mode of
commencing conversation. It might indeed be supposed to refer
to the course of Gluck's thoughts, which had first produced the
dwarf's observations out of the pot; but whatever it referred to,
Gluck had no inclination to dispute the dictum.
"Wouldn't it, sir?" said Gluck very mildly and submissively
indeed.
"No," said the dwarf, conclusively, "no, it wouldn't." And with
that the dwarf pulled his cap hard over his brows and took two
turns, of three feet long, up and down the room, lifting his
legs up very high and setting them down very hard. This pause
gave time for Gluck to collect his thoughts a little, and, seeing
no great reason to view his diminutive visitor with dread, and
feeling his curiosity overcome his amazement, he ventured on a
question of peculiar delicacy.
"Pray, sir," said Gluck, rather hesitatingly, "were you my mug?"
On which the little man turned sharp round, walked straight up to
Gluck, and drew himself up to his full height. "I," said the
little man, "am the King of the Golden River." Whereupon he
turned about again and took two more turns, some six feet long,
in order to allow time for the consternation which this
announcement produced in his auditor to evaporate. After which
he again walked up to Gluck and stood still, as if expecting some
comment on his communication.
Gluck determined to say something at all events. "I hope your
Majesty is very well," said Gluck.
"Listen!" said the little man, deigning no reply to this polite
inquiry. "I am the king of what you mortals call the Golden
River. The shape you saw me in was owing to the malice of a
stronger king, from whose enchantments you have this instant
freed me. What I have seen of you and your conduct to your
wicked brothers renders me willing to serve you; therefore,
attend to what I tell you. Whoever shall climb to the top of
that mountain from which you see the Golden River issue, and
shall cast into the stream at its source three drops of holy
water, for him and for him only the river shall turn to gold.
But no one failing in his first can succeed in a second attempt,
and if anyone shall cast unholy water into the river, it will
overwhelm him and he will become a black stone." So saying, the
King of the Golden River turned away and deliberately walked into
the center of the hottest flame of the furnace. His figure
became red, white, transparent, dazzling,--a blaze of intense
light,--rose, trembled, and disappeared. The King of the Golden
River had evaporated.
"Oh!" cried poor Gluck, running to look up the chimney after him,
"O dear, dear, dear me! My mug! my mug! my mug!"
CHAPTER III
HOW MR. HANS SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE GOLDEN RIVER, AND
HOW HE PROSPERED THEREIN
The King of the Golden River had hardly made the extraordinary
exit related in the last chapter, before Hans and Schwartz came
roaring into the house very savagely drunk. The discovery of
the total loss of their last piece of plate had the effect of
sobering them just enough to enable them to stand over Gluck,
beating him very steadily for a quarter of an hour; at the
expiration of which period they dropped into a couple of chairs
and requested to know what he had got to say for himself. Gluck
told them his story, of which, of course, they did not believe a
word. They beat him again, till their arms were tired, and
staggered to bed. In the morning, however, the steadiness with
which he adhered to his story obtained him some degree of
credence; the immediate consequence of which was that the two
brothers, after wrangling a long time on the knotty question,
which of them should try his fortune first, drew their swords and
began fighting. The noise of the fray alarmed the neighbors,
who, finding they could not pacify the combatants, sent for the
constable.
Hans, on hearing this, contrived to escape, and hid himself; but
Schwartz was taken before the magistrate, fined for breaking the
peace, and, having drunk out his last penny the evening before,
was thrown into prison till he should pay.
When Hans heard this, he was much delighted, and determined to
set out immediately for the Golden River. How to get the holy
water was the question. He went to the priest, but the priest
could not give any holy water to so abandoned a character. So
Hans went to vespers in the evening for the first time in his
life and, under pretense of crossing himself, stole a cupful and
returned home in triumph.
Next morning he got up before the sun rose, put the holy water
into a strong flask, and two bottles of wine and some meat in a
basket, slung them over his back, took his alpine staff in his
hand, and set off for the mountains.
On his way out of the town he had to pass the prison, and as he
looked in at the windows, whom should he see but Schwartz
himself peeping out of the bars and looking very disconsolate.
"Good morning, brother," said Hans; "have you any message for the
King of the Golden River?"
Schwartz gnashed his teeth with rage and shook the bars with all
his strength, but Hans only laughed at him and, advising him to
make himself comfortable till he came back again, shouldered his
basket, shook the bottle of holy water in Schwartz's face till
it frothed again, and marched off in the highest spirits in the
world.
It was indeed a morning that might have made anyone happy, even
with no Golden River to seek for. Level lines of dewy mist lay
stretched along the valley, out of which rose the massy
mountains, their lower cliffs in pale gray shadow, hardly
distinguishable from the floating vapor but gradually ascending
till they caught the sunlight, which ran in sharp touches of
ruddy color along the angular crags, and pierced, in long, level
rays, through their fringes of spearlike pine. Far above shot up
red, splintered masses of castellated rock, jagged and shivered
into myriads of fantastic forms, with here and there a streak of
sunlit snow traced down their chasms like a line of forked
lightning; and far beyond and far above all these, fainter than
the morning cloud but purer and changeless, slept, in the blue
sky, the utmost peaks of the eternal snow.
The Golden River, which sprang from one of the lower and snowless
elevations, was now nearly in shadow--all but the uppermost jets
of spray, which rose like slow smoke above the undulating line of
the cataract and floated away in feeble wreaths upon the morning
wind.
On this object, and on this alone, Hans's eyes and thoughts were
fixed. Forgetting the distance he had to traverse, he set off at
an imprudent rate of walking, which greatly exhausted him before
he had scaled the first range of the green and low hills. He
was, moreover, surprised, on surmounting them, to find that a
large glacier, of whose existence, notwithstanding his previous
knowledge of the mountains, he had been absolutely ignorant, lay
between him and the source of the Golden River. He entered on it
with the boldness of a practiced mountaineer, yet he thought he
had never traversed so strange or so dangerous a glacier in his
life. The ice was excessively slippery, and out of all its
chasms came wild sounds of gushing water--not monotonous or low,
but changeful and loud, rising occasionally into drifting
passages of wild melody, then breaking off into short, melancholy
tones or sudden shrieks resembling those of human voices in
distress or pain. The ice was broken into thousands of confused
shapes, but none, Hans thought, like the ordinary forms of
splintered ice. There seemed a curious EXPRESSION about all
their outlines--a perpetual resemblance to living features,
distorted and scornful. Myriads of deceitful shadows and lurid
lights played and floated about and through the pale blue
pinnacles, dazzling and confusing the sight of the traveler,
while his ears grew dull and his head giddy with the constant
gush and roar of the concealed waters. These painful
circumstances increased upon him as he advanced; the ice crashed
and yawned into fresh chasms at his feet, tottering spires nodded
around him and fell thundering across his path; and though he had
repeatedly faced these dangers on the most terrific glaciers and
in the wildest weather, it was with a new and oppressive feeling
of panic terror that he leaped the last chasm and flung himself,
exhausted and shuddering, on the firm turf of the mountain.
He had been compelled to abandon his basket of food, which became
a perilous incumbrance on the glacier, and had now no means of
refreshing himself but by breaking off and eating some of the
pieces of ice. This, however, relieved his thirst; an hour's
repose recruited his hardy frame, and with the indomitable spirit
of avarice he resumed his laborious journey.
His way now lay straight up a ridge of bare red rocks, without a
blade of grass to ease the foot or a projecting angle to afford
an inch of shade from the south sun. It was past noon and the
rays beat intensely upon the steep path, while the whole
atmosphere was motionless and penetrated with heat. Intense
thirst was soon added to the bodily fatigue with which Hans was
now afflicted; glance after glance he cast on the flask of water
which hung at his belt. "Three drops are enough," at last thought
he; "I may, at least, cool my lips with it."
He opened the flask and was raising it to his lips, when his eye
fell on an object lying on the rock beside him; he thought it
moved. It was a small dog, apparently in the last agony of
death from thirst. Its tongue was out, its jaws dry, its limbs
extended lifelessly, and a swarm of black ants were crawling
about its lips and throat. Its eye moved to the bottle which
Hans held in his hand. He raised it, drank, spurned the animal
with his foot, and passed on. And he did not know how it was,
but he thought that a strange shadow had suddenly come across the
blue sky.
The path became steeper and more rugged every moment, and the
high hill air, instead of refreshing him, seemed to throw his
blood into a fever. The noise of the hill cataracts sounded like
mockery in his ears; they were all distant, and his thirst
increased every moment. Another hour passed, and he again looked
down to the flask at his side; it was half empty, but there was
much more than three drops in it. He stopped to open it, and
again, as he did so, something moved in the path above him. It
was a fair child, stretched nearly lifeless on the rock, its
breast heaving with thirst, its eyes closed, and its lips parched
and burning. Hans eyed it deliberately, drank, and passed on.
And a dark gray cloud came over the sun, and long, snakelike
shadows crept up along the mountain sides. Hans struggled on.
The sun was sinking, but its descent seemed to bring no coolness;
the leaden height of the dead air pressed upon his brow and
heart, but the goal was near. He saw the cataract of the Golden
River springing from the hillside scarcely five hundred feet
above him. He paused for a moment to breathe, and sprang on to
complete his task.
At this instant a faint cry fell on his ear. He turned, and saw
a gray-haired old man extended on the rocks. His eyes were sunk,
his features deadly pale and gathered into an expression of
despair. "Water!" he stretched his arms to Hans, and cried
feebly, "Water! I am dying."
"I have none," replied Hans; "thou hast had thy share of life."
He strode over the prostrate body and darted on. And a flash of
blue lightning rose out of the East, shaped like a sword; it
shook thrice over the whole heaven and left it dark with one
heavy, impenetrable shade. The sun was setting; it plunged
towards the horizon like a redhot ball. The roar of the Golden
River rose on Hans's ear. He stood at the brink of the chasm
through which it ran. Its waves were filled with the red glory
of the sunset; they shook their crests like tongues of fire, and
flashes of bloody light gleamed along their foam. Their sound
came mightier and mightier on his senses; his brain grew giddy
with the prolonged thunder. Shuddering he drew the flask from
his girdle and hurled it into the center of the torrent. As he
did so, an icy chill shot through his limbs; he staggered,
shrieked, and fell. The waters closed over his cry, and the
moaning of the river rose wildly into the night as it gushed over
THE BLACK STONE
CHAPTER IV
HOW MR. SCHWARTZ SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE GOLDEN RIVER,
AND HOW HE PROSPERED THEREIN
Poor little Gluck waited very anxiously, alone in the house, for
Hans's return. Finding he did not come back, he was terribly
frightened and went and told Schwartz in the prison all that had
happened. Then Schwartz was very much pleased and said that
Hans must certainly have been turned into a black stone and he
should have all the gold to himself. But Gluck was very sorry
and cried all night. When he got up in the morning there was no
bread in the house, nor any money; so Gluck went and hired
himself to another goldsmith, and he worked so hard and so neatly
and so long every day that he soon got money enough together to
pay his brother's fine, and he went and gave it all to Schwartz,
and Schwartz got out of prison. Then Schwartz was quite pleased
and said he should have some of the gold of the river. But Gluck
only begged he would go and see what had become of Hans.
Now when Schwartz had heard that Hans had stolen the holy water,
he thought to himself that such a proceeding might not be
considered altogether correct by the King of the Golden River,
and determined to manage matters better. So he took some more of
Gluck's money and went to a bad priest, who gave him some holy
water very readily for it. Then Schwartz was sure it was all
quite right. So Schwartz got up early in the morning before the
sun rose, and took some bread and wine in a basket, and put his
holy water in a flask, and set off for the mountains. Like his
brother he was much surprised at the sight of the glacier and had
great difficulty in crossing it, even after leaving his basket
behind him. The day was cloudless but not bright; there was a
heavy purple haze hanging over the sky, and the hills looked
lowering and gloomy. And as Schwartz climbed the steep rock path
the thirst came upon him, as it had upon his brother, until he
lifted his flask to his lips to drink. Then he saw the fair
child lying near him on the rocks, and it cried to him and moaned
for water. "Water, indeed," said Schwartz; "I haven't half
enough for myself," and passed on. And as he went he thought the
sunbeams grew more dim, and he saw a low bank of black cloud
rising out of the west; and when he had climbed for another hour,
the thirst overcame him again and he would have drunk. Then he
saw the old man lying before him on the path, and heard him cry
out for water. "Water, indeed," said Schwartz; "I haven't half
enough for myself," and on he went. Then again the light seemed
to fade from before his eyes, and he looked up, and, behold, a
mist, of the color of blood, had come over the sun; and the bank
of black cloud had risen very high, and its edges were tossing
and tumbling like the waves of the angry sea and they cast long
shadows which flickered over Schwartz's path.
Then Schwartz climbed for another hour, and again his thirst
returned; and as he lifted his flask to his lips he thought he
saw his brother Hans lying exhausted on the path before him, and
as he gazed the figure stretched its arms to him and cried for
water. "Ha, ha!" laughed Schwartz, "are you there? Remember the
prison bars, my boy. Water, indeed! do you suppose I carried it
all the way up here for you?" And he strode over the figure;
yet, as he passed, he thought he saw a strange expression of
mockery about its lips. And when he had gone a few yards
farther, he looked back; but the figure was not there.
And a sudden horror came over Schwartz, he knew not why; but the
thirst for gold prevailed over his fear, and he rushed on. And
the bank of black cloud rose to the zenith, and out of it came
bursts of spiry lightning, and waves of darkness seemed to heave
and float, between their flashes, over the whole heavens. And
the sky where the sun was setting was all level and like a lake
of blood; and a strong wind came out of that sky, tearing its
crimson clouds into fragments and scattering them far into the
darkness. And when Schwartz stood by the brink of the Golden
River, its waves were black like thunder clouds, but their foam
was like fire; and the roar of the waters below and the thunder
above met as he cast the flask into the stream. And as he did so
the lightning glared in his eyes, and the earth gave way beneath
him, and the waters closed over his cry. And the moaning of the
river rose wildly into the night as it gushed over the
TWO BLACK STONES
CHAPTER V
HOW LITTLE GLUCK SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE GOLDEN RIVER,
AND HOW HE PROSPERED THEREIN, WITH OTHER MATTERS OF INTEREST
When Gluck found that Schwartz did not come back, he was very
sorry and did not know what to do. He had no money and was
obliged to go and hire himself again to the goldsmith, who worked
him very hard and gave him very little money. So, after a month
or two, Gluck grew tired and made up his mind to go and try his
fortune with the Golden River. "The little king looked very
kind," thought he. "I don't think he will turn me into a black
stone." So he went to the priest, and the priest gave him some
holy water as soon as he asked for it. Then Gluck took some
bread in his basket, and the bottle of water, and set off very
early for the mountains.
If the glacier had occasioned a great deal of fatigue in his
brothers, it was twenty times worse for him, who was neither so
strong nor so practiced on the mountains. He had several very
bad falls, lost his basket and bread, and was very much
frightened at the strange noises under the ice. He lay a long
time to rest on the grass, after he had got over, and began to
climb the hill just in the hottest part of the day. When he had
climbed for an hour, he got dreadfully thirsty and was going to
drink like his brothers, when he saw an old man coming down the
path above him, looking very feeble and leaning on a staff. "Why
son," said the old man, "I am faint with thirst; give me some of
that water." Then Gluck looked at him, and when he saw that he
was pale and weary, he gave him the water. "Only pray don't
drink it all," said Gluck. But the old man drank a great deal
and gave him back the bottle two thirds empty. Then he bade him
good speed, and Gluck went on again merrily. And the path became
easier to his feet, and two or three blades of grass appeared
upon it, and some grasshoppers began singing on the bank beside
it, and Gluck thought he had never heard such merry singing.
Then he went on for another hour, and the thirst increased on him
so that he thought he should be forced to drink. But as he
raised the flask he saw a little child lying panting by the
roadside, and it cried out piteously for water. Then Gluck
struggled with himself and determined to bear the thirst a
little longer; and he put the bottle to the child's lips, and it
drank it all but a few drops. Then it smiled on him and got up
and ran down the hill; and Gluck looked after it till it became
as small as a little star, and then turned and began climbing
again. And then there were all kinds of sweet flowers growing on
the rocks--bright green moss with pale pink, starry flowers, and
soft belled gentians, more blue than the sky at its deepest, and
pure white transparent lilies. And crimson and purple
butterflies darted hither and thither, and the sky sent down such
pure light that Gluck had never felt so happy in his life.