On a Pincushion · The Hair Tree (1/5)

The Hair Tree

Many years ago there lived a young Queen who was said to be the most beautiful woman in the world. Her skin was white and smooth as ivory, and her eyes bright as stars. But her greatest beauty was her hair. It was neither black nor gold, but exactly halfway between, just the colour of a dead beech-leaf It was so long that it trailed behind her on the ground, and so thick that it took three maids to plait and arrange it every morning. Every day it was scented and washed by the court hairdresser, who examined it carefully to see that it was not growing thinner or falling off. The Queen’s husband, the King, was as proud of it as his wife, and gave her all sorts of lovely jewellery with which to dress it⁠—diamond pins and golden combs⁠—and by his special command the court gardener always kept the best flowers for the Queen to place in her hair.

And not only the King and Queen, but all the courtiers and court ladies⁠—indeed, everyone in the country⁠—praised and admired this beautiful hair; and although some of the court ladies were rather jealous of it, yet all agreed that it would be a real national misfortune if any harm came to it.

One morning the Queen was sitting at her window at work, when a big bird flew past. It was much like an eagle, with a hooked beak and ugly fierce eyes. It hovered around the window for some time, and at last settled on a tree outside and watched the Queen, who did not look up till she was surprised by hearing the bird say in a croaking voice⁠—

“Good day, Queen; you’ve plenty of hair.”

The Queen laughed, well pleased that even a common eagle should notice her beautiful tresses.

“Yes,” she said, shaking it around her. “I’ve more than any other lady in the land.”

“Then you’ve enough to give me a little,” said the bird. “I can’t find anything soft to line my nest with, and some of your hair would do nicely.”

“My hair!” cried the Queen, staring at the bird in astonishment; “my beautiful hair to line your common nest with! You must be mad. Do you know that I’m the Queen, and that I value my hair more than anything on earth?”

“Nevertheless, it would do very nicely for my nest, and I advise you to give me some of it,” croaked the eagle.

“Indeed, I shall do nothing of the kind,” said the Queen, eagerly. “I never heard such impertinence in my life. Fly away immediately, or I will send out some of the soldiers to shoot you.”

“They couldn’t do it,” said the bird, with a low laugh; “and if you tell them to try, you will be sorry for it afterwards. Now, I shall only give you one more chance. Queen, will you give me some of your hair for my nest?”

“No, I shall not,” answered the Queen, half crying with anger; “it is very presumptuous of you to ask for such a thing.”

The bird said no more, but rising into the air began to fly slowly round and round the tree on which he had been perched, and as he flew he sang these words in a low voice⁠—

“As the wind blows this tree’s twigs bare,

So shall the proud Queen lose her hair;

The leaves shall come back with the first spring rain,

But when shall the Queen find her hair again?”

When he had done, the eagle gave a shrill cry and disappeared, leaving the Queen in astonishment at his conduct.

It was autumn, and she heard the wind whistling in the branches, and presently a number of leaves dropped from the cherry-tree, and fluttered to the ground, and, at the same moment, a handful of her curls fell out into her lap.

The Queen started up in alarm, and ran with tears in her eyes to the King to tell him what had happened. The King laughed at her fears, assuring her the bird could do her no harm, and that it was only by chance that her hair fell out just then.

Yet the Queen could not feel comfortable, and that night, when her ladies were brushing her hair, a quantity came out on the brushes and two or three locks fell to the ground. Next morning when she awoke she found some long soft brown tresses lying loose on her pillow, and when she got out of bed, a whole shower fell from her head to the floor.

The Queen wrung her hands in despair, and at once sent for the court hairdresser, who came, bringing with him a number of bottles, all containing lotions to make the hair grow; but all the lotions in the world were of no use. There was no denying the fact that the Queen’s hair was falling out in a most alarming manner. There was scarcely enough for her ladies to plait, and a bald spot was beginning to show on the top of her head. She dared not look at the cherry-tree to see if its branches were beginning to look bare also, but at every gust she heard the leaves falling, and trembled as she thought how soon they would all be gone. At last one morning, after the wind had been very fierce and strong, she ran to the window, and, looking out, saw that the cherry-tree’s branches were quite bare⁠—not a leaf to be seen anywhere. Then she turned to her looking-glass, and, dreadful to behold, she was quite bald also. Her last lock of hair had fallen off and left her head as smooth and white as an egg. At this fearful sight the Queen screamed and fainted, and when her ladies came to help her they were all so shocked that they could scarcely speak. As for the King, his grief was so great that he sobbed aloud.

The Queen was laid on her bed, and the court physicians and hairdressers held a great consultation as to what was to be done to make her hair grow, and it was agreed that her head should go through a regular course of treatment. In the meantime she said she would keep her room, and it was given out that she was very ill, in order that the common people might not know what a dreadful thing had happened. But all the doctors and hairdressers could do nothing. Not a single hair reappeared on the Queen’s bare white head, and it was impossible to conceal the fact any longer. There was great sorrow all over the country when it became known, and a general mourning was proclaimed till the Queen’s hair should have grown again. In the meantime she wore a little lace cap trimmed with jewels. It was a very pretty little cap, and very becoming⁠—so, at least, all the courtiers said. But it was not so beautiful as her own hair, and the Queen felt this so much that the first time she appeared in public in her cap she could scarcely help crying.

So things went on for a little time, and the doctors and hairdressers were all racking their brains to find something to make hair grow. But the Queen fretted so much that she lost her appetite and really fell ill, and was obliged to keep to her bed. The first night after her illness she dreamt a dream, which she thought about all day long. She dreamt that she was sitting in the palace garden, when there came up a little man, who was the strangest object she had ever seen. He was no bigger than a big spider, and all dressed in green. When he saw her he began to dance and sing this rhyme:⁠—

“When the grass is thin, you must mow it, mow it, mow it,

But when the ground is bare, you must sow it, sow it, sow it.”

And as he sang these words he took out a handful of tiny seeds from his pocket, and began to scatter them about. Directly there sprang up a little plant, which grew and grew and grew until it became a big tree, and then it put forth buds, and the buds burst, and there came out not leaves, but tiny locks of hair, which grew and grew until they touched the ground, and covered the tree all over.

When the Queen awoke she could think of nothing but the strange Hair Tree; and that night when she went to sleep she dreamt exactly the same thing. On the third night she had the same dream again, and when she awoke she called to her husband, and told him of what she had dreamt three nights running.

“And now, my dear husband,” she continued, “I am sure that the only thing which can ever make my hair grow is some seeds from the Hair Tree. I entreat you to spare no effort to discover it, and to offer a reward to anyone who will bring you news of it. For I feel”⁠—here the Queen’s voice grew very husky⁠—“that if I do not find it I shall never recover my hair, and if not, I shall die, for I cannot live without it.” So saying she fell back on the pillow and closed her eyes.

The King at once called a great meeting of his lords together, and told them the Queen’s dream, and a herald was sent round to proclaim that one hundred thousand pounds would be given to anyone who could bring some seeds from the Hair Tree, or even tell where it was to be found. And great placards were pasted up all over the kingdom, offering the reward. So everyone began to talk of this strange Hair Tree, which no one had ever heard of before, and to wonder where it could be⁠—for all would have liked to have earned the reward⁠—but all agreed that the Hair Tree was nowhere in that country.

Now it chanced that a poor sailor named Rupert saw one of the placards, and stopped to read it. He was a strong young man, but he had neither father nor mother, nor sisters nor brothers, and he felt so lonely that he did not care what became of him.

So when he saw the placard and the large reward that was offered to anyone who could bring news of the Hair Tree, he began to wonder where it was, and if he could not find it.

“One hundred thousand pounds is a lot of money,” he said to himself. “There is no reason why I should not find it as well as another man. I have a good mind to go and look for it, though it seems rather a wild-goose chase.”

So he packed up his things, and took a little boat, and sailed away towards the north; for it was there, he knew, was a strange country where animals speak like men and women, and plants have hands and eyes; and he thought that there he might find the wonderful Hair Tree.

In the meantime half the young men in the kingdom had started off to search, hoping to win the reward. Some went east, some went west, some north, some south; and they sought in every imaginable place and country. Some gave it up very soon, and returned home, saying that there was no such tree. Others went on and on, asking everyone they met if they had heard of or seen it, and finding no trace of it, yet, being determined not to give it up and return home empty-handed, went still farther and farther. And so months passed away, and the Queen’s head still remained bald.

In order that her Majesty might not be annoyed by the sight of other women’s hair when her own was gone, the King ordered that they should all wear little caps which quite covered the head and came down on the forehead; and because no one liked these caps, and all thought them very unbecoming, the court ladies were almost as anxious as the Queen that the tree should be found, and her hair grow again.

Rupert sailed and sailed to the north till he began to think he must be coming to the magic country of which he had heard. For a long time he went on without seeing land anywhere, but at last he came in sight of a little island standing quite alone in the middle of the water. On it there grew neither grass nor flowers of any sort, but three solitary trees. One was much like a common nut-tree, only all the nuts were of a bright red colour; the boughs of the second were laden with precious stones of all kinds, diamonds and rubies, emeralds and pearls; but the third tree was the strangest of all, for its boughs were quite bare, and looked as if they were made of polished brass, and on the centre at the top grew an enormous pod, which pointed straight at the sky. It looked like a great brass drum.

Rupert pulled up his boat, and, springing on to the island, filled his pockets full of precious stones and common nuts, and then stood still looking at the enormous pod and wondering what it could contain. While he watched it there was a noise like a clap of thunder, and the pod burst asunder, and twelve round shining golden nuts fell to the ground. At the same time the tree withered as if it had been struck by lightning, and the brass branches all fell away.

Rupert was so frightened by the noise the pod made in bursting that he had buried his face in the ground, but when he found all was quiet again, he slowly raised himself, and picked up one of the gold nuts to examine it. As they were pretty and bright, he thought he would take them all for curiosities, and he placed them on the seat of his little boat. But as he rowed away from the island he began to feel sure he was coming to the enchanted land. The fishes no longer started away from the side of the boat, but swam after it in a long trail, and when he baited his line and threw it overboard not one would bite, but swam up quite close to the hook and then turned away, giving little low, scoffing laughs. Rupert was sorely puzzled, and sat looking at the water in wonder, when he heard a whirring of wings overhead, and a great yellow bird flew round the boat, and at last perched on the prow and peered curiously into his face.

After a few minutes it said, “Are those nuts you have in your pocket?”

Rupert said “Yes,” and drawing out a handful of the red nuts, offered them to the bird.

“Crack some and give me the kernels,” said the bird. Rupert obeyed, afraid to refuse, as he remembered what a dreadful thing had happened to the poor Queen for not being polite to a bird. The bird went on eating the nuts, and then said⁠—

“Where are you going?”

Then the sailor told how the Queen had been rude to a bird, who had in return destroyed her hair.

“I know; that was me,” said the bird, with a chuckle. “Give me some more nuts.”

Rupert again handed the bird the nuts, and then went on relating how the Queen had had a strange dream of a wonderful Hair Tree, and how the King had offered a reward to anyone who could find it; so he was going to look for it.

“You will search a long time for the Hair Tree, I expect,” said the bird, still munching. “If the Queen waits for her hair till it is found, she will have to do without it nearly all her life. I suppose she’ll wish now that she had been civil.” But as he finished speaking, the bird’s glance fell on the golden nuts lying on the seat, and with a shrill cry he flew at them; but Rupert had seized them first and held them firmly out of his reach.

“What are these?” gasped the bird. “Where did you get them? Tell me at once.”

“They came,” said Rupert, still holding the bag tightly, “from the single pod of a tree that has no leaves, and whose branches look like brass, and that grows on a little island not far from here.” On hearing this the bird gave a low cry, and crouched down on one side of the boat, where it sat eyeing Rupert and the nuts greedily, and shaking with rage. “Then they are the nuts of the zirbal-tree,” he said at last; “and the pod has broken when I was not there. For two thousand years have I waited for that pod to break, and now it will be two thousand years before it is ripe again, and it is the only zirbal-tree living, and there is nothing on earth like its nuts.”

When Rupert saw the bird crouched in one corner of the seat, with its head lowered and its feathers ruffled, and remembered how much mischief it had done, he felt strongly inclined to seize it and wring its neck, but he restrained himself, and said⁠—

“You had better sit up. I’ve got the nuts, and I mean to keep them; but perhaps, if you’ll answer me one or two questions, I’ll give you one.”

On this the bird drew itself up, and, arranging its ruffled plumage, sat watching Rupert suspiciously.

“You say you’re the bird who charmed away the Queen’s hair. Well, if you’ll tell me how she can grow it again I’ll give you a nut.”

“What!” cried the bird, flapping his wings angrily, “tell you how the Queen can recover her hair? Never⁠—I’d sooner never taste a nut again.”

“Very well,” said Rupert, picking up a golden nut, and holding it temptingly towards the bird. “Only tell me which way I ought to steer to find the country where the Hair Tree grows, and I will give you this.”