THE BELL by HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
Adapted by Robert Paterson
For narrator and chamber ensemble

In the narrow streets of a large town, in the evening, when the sun was setting and its last rays gave a golden tint to the copper eaves, people often heard a strange noise that resembled the sound of a church bell. It only lasted an instant; it was lost in the continuous roar of traffic and hum of voices that rose from the town. “The bell is ringing;” people used to say, “the sun is setting!” Those who walked outside the town, where the houses were less crowded and interspersed by little fields and gardens, saw the evening sky much better, and heard the sound of the bell much more clearly. It seemed as though the sound emanated from deep within the calm, fragrant woods at the edge of town, and the sound elicited reverence from everyone who heard it.

One day, someone finally said, “I really wonder if there is a large bell out in the woods. It has such a strange, sweet sound! Shall we go and see if we can find it?”

To everyone, the distance seemed extraordinarily long. When they ar- rived at a grove of willow trees on the border of the woods, they sat down, looked up into the great branches, and thought they were now really deep in the woods.

Two fortune hunters from the town also came out and set up stands. One was a pastry chef, and the other was a candymaker. The candymak- er thought he was smarter than the pastry chef and could trick everyone into thinking the bell was his. He hung a small bell over his stand, which was covered with pitch to protect it from the rain, but which dulled the sound from the clapper.

When everyone came home they said that it had been very romantic.

Three bell-seekers declared that they had gone as far as the end of the woods. They had heard the strange sound the entire time, but once they were out in the woods, confusingly, it seemed as if it was coming from the town itself.

One of them wrote verses about the bell, and said that it was like a mother’s voice singing to a beloved child. No tune, he said, was sweeter than the sound of the bell.

The mayor of the town heard of it, and she declared, “The one who finds out where the sound comes from will receive the title ‘Bellringer To The World,’ even if there is no bell at all.”

Now, many went out into the woods for the sake of finding the source of this magnificent sound, but only one came back with some sort of reasonable explanation despite not venturing very far out. He said that the sound of the bell came from a woodpecker perched on a hollow tree.

It continually knocked its head against the tree, and he said with almost foolish certainty that this is what created the bell-like noise.

He was appointed “Bellringer To The World,” and every year he wrote about the woodpecker, but this did not make anyone any more certain about the sound of the bell.

On graduation day at the town high school, the principal delivered a beautiful, touching speech, and the students were deeply moved by it. It was certainly a very important day, since they were not only graduating, but the prom was also being held the very next evening. They were all at once transforming from teenagers to adults!

On prom day, the sun shone most brightly and the sound of the great, still-unknown bell was heard more distinctly than ever. Now that school was finished, all of the teenagers were yearning for an adventure and wanted to find the bell. All except three.

One teenager wanted to go home and try on her prom dress that had just arrived in the mail. She was so excited to feel beautiful and glamor- ous on this most special night.

The second teenager, whose parents were struggling to pay the bills, needed to get back home to help out with chores. His parents were so poor that he couldn’t afford a new pair of shoes; they were so worn out that they barely held together.

The third teenager was voted both “most talented” and “most likely to suc- ceed” in the school yearbook, and wanted to stay home and practice her violin. She was a very accomplished musician, and wished to remain so.

Therefore, the three did not go; the rest went on.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the teenagers headed toward the sound in the woods.

Two young children soon grew tired and returned to town. Two others sat down and made garlands of flowers; they were not interested in go- ing any further. When the others arrived at the willow trees, where the pastry chef had put up her stand, they said: “Now we are finally here. The bell does not really exist—it is only imaginary!”

Suddenly, the beautiful and solemn sound of the bell was heard so deep from within the woods that five of the teenagers made up their minds to go even further. The woods were very thick, so it was difficult to ad- vance. Prickly blackberry bushes grew almost too high. Flowering vines were hanging like garlands from tree to tree. All the while, songbirds were singing and sunbeams cascaded through the tree branches. That was very beautiful!

Large rocks covered with moss of various hues were lying about as the fresh spring water rippled forth with a peculiar sound. “Perhaps this is the bell,” said one of the teenagers, and then he lay down and listened. “I must stay and try to find out if it is!” He remained there and let the others walk on.

The four others came to the candymaker’s stand. A large crabapple tree spread its branches over it, as if it intended to pour all its fruit onto the roof, upon which roses were blooming. The long boughs covered the gable, where a little bell was hanging. Was this the one they had heard? All agreed that it must be so, except for one, the mayor’s son. He said that the bell was too small and too thin to be heard at such a distance, and that it had quite a different sound to that which had touched so many hearts. The other teenagers rolled their eyes because they knew his mother was mayor, and that he thought he was much more clever than everyone else. The three teens stayed at the stand and let him go off alone.

As he walked on, the solitude of the wood produced a feeling of rever- ence in his chest. He still heard the little bell that caused the others to rejoice, and sometimes, when the wind blew in that direction, he could hear the sounds from the candymaker’s stand, where the others were singing.

As the mayor’s son kept going, the deep sounds of the bell became stron- ger; soon it seemed to him as if an organ played an accompaniment. And it seemed to come from within, deep inside, where the heart is.

Now something rustled among the bushes. Another teenager stood be- fore the mayor’s son, in worn-out shoes and such a short jacket that the sleeves did not reach his wrists. They knew each other: the boy was the one who had not been able to go with them because he had chores to do after school.

After he completed his chores, he headed toward the woods in his worn- out shoes. The sound of the bell was so enticing—he felt he must try to find it.

“We should try to find it together,” said the mayor’s son. But the teenag- er with the worn-out shoes was ashamed. He pulled at the short sleeves of his jacket, and said he was afraid he could not walk as fast.

“Then we shall not go together,” said the mayor’s son, nodding to the poor teen, who proceeded to go off into the deepest part of the woods, where the blackberry thorns tore his shabby clothes and scratched his hands, face, and feet until they bled. The mayor’s son also received sev- eral large scratches, but the sun was shining in his direction, so we shall follow him.

“I will, and must find the bell,” he said, “even if I have to go to the end of the world.”

Off in the distance, hungry wolves crouched in the brush and bared their teeth. “Shall we eat him?” they said. “Shall we attack him? He is a mayor’s son!”

He walked on undaunted, deeper and deeper into the woods, where the most wonderful flowers were growing. There were white stargazer lilies with blood-red stamens, sky-blue tulips shining when the wind moved them, and apple-trees covered with apples like large, glittering soap bubbles. Just think how resplendent these trees were in the sunshine!

All around there were beautiful green meadows, where deer played in the grass. Magnificent oaks and beech trees grew all-around, and if the bark was split off any of them, long blades of grass grew out of the clefts. There were also large, smooth lakes in the wood, on which swans were swimming and flapping their wings.

The mayor’s son occasionally stood still and listened. Sometimes he thought that the sound of the bell rose up to him out of one of these deep lakes, but soon he found that this was a mistake, and that the bell was ringing still farther in the woods. Then the sun began to set, and the clouds were as red as fire. The woods became quiet.

He sank down on his knees and said: “I will never find what I am look- ing for! Now the sun is setting and the dark night is approaching. Per- haps I will see the round sun once more before it disappears beneath the horizon. I will climb these rocks, they are as high as the highest trees!”

He took hold of roots and vines, he climbed up the wet stones, one after the other, where water snakes were wriggling and the toads croaked at him. He reached the top of the hill, just before the sun had completely set.

“Oh, what splendor!” he said.

The sea, the great majestic sea, which was rolling its long waves against the shore, stretched out before him, and the sun was standing like a large bright altar where sea and sky met—all melted together in the most glowing colors. The woods were singing, and his heart, too. The whole of nature was one giant shrine in which the trees and hovering clouds formed the pillars, the flowers and grass the woven velvet carpet, and the sky itself a great cupola. Off in the distance, the flame color van- ished as soon as the sun disappeared, but millions of stars were lighted, diamond lamps were shining, and the mayor’s son stretched his arms out toward the sky, towards the sea, and towards the woods.

Then suddenly, the boy with the short-sleeved jacket and the worn-out shoes appeared. He had arrived just as quickly on the road he had cho- sen. They ran toward each other, and took one another’s hand, in the great cathedral of nature and poetry, and above them sounded the invis- ible bell, happy spirits surrounded them, singing and rejoicing.

Adaptation © Copyright 2017 Robert Paterson (ASCAP)