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Something
by Hans Christian Andersen（1858）
MEAN to be somebody， and do something useful in the world，“ said the eldest of five brothers. ”I don't care how humble my position is， so that I can only do some good， which will be something. I intend to be a brickmaker； bricks are always wanted， and I shall be really doing something.“
“Your 'something' is not enough for me，” said the second brother； “what you talk of doing is nothing at all， it is journeyman's work， or might even be done by a machine. No！ I should prefer to be a builder at once， there is something real in that. A man gains a position， he becomes a citizen， has his own sign， his own house of call for his workmen： so I shall be a builder. If all goes well， in time I shall become a master， and have my own journeymen， and my wife will be treated as a master's wife. This is what I call something.”
“I call it all nothing，” said the third； “not in reality any position. There are many in a town far above a master builder in position. You may be an upright man， but even as a master you will only be ranked among common men. I know better what to do than that. I will be an architect， which will place me among those who possess riches and intellect， and who speculate in art. I shall certainly have to rise by my own endeavors from a bricklayer's laborer， or as a carpenter's apprentice—a lad wearing a paper cap， although I now wear a silk hat. I shall have to fetch beer and spirits for the journeymen， and they will call me 'thou，' which will be an insult. I shall endure it， however， for I shall look upon it all as a mere representation， a masquerade， a mummery， which to-morrow， that is， when I myself as a journeyman， shall have served my time， will vanish， and I shall go my way， and all that has passed will be nothing to me. Then I shall enter the academy， and get instructed in drawing， and be called an architect. I may even attain to rank， and have something placed before or after my name， and I shall build as others have done before me. By this there will be always 'something' to make me remembered， and is not that worth living for？”
“Not in my opinion，” said the fourth； “I will never follow the lead of others， and only imitate what they have done. I will be a genius， and become GREater than all of you together. I will create a new style of building， and introduce a plan for erecting houses suitable to the climate， with material easily obtained in the country， and thus suit national feeling and the developments of the age， besides building a storey for my own genius.”
“But supposing the climate and the material are not good for much，” said the fifth brother， “that would be very unfortunate for you， and have an influence over your experiments. Nationality may assert itself until it becomes affectation， and the developments of a century may run wild， as youth often does. I see clearly that none of you will ever really be anything worth notice， however you may now fancy it. But do as you like， I shall not imitate you. I mean to keep clear of all these things， and criticize what you do. In every action something imperfect may be discovered， something not right， which I shall make it my business to find out and expose； that will be something， I fancy.” And he kept his word， and became a critic.
People said of this fifth brother， “There is something very precise about him； he has a good head-piece， but he does nothing.” And on that very account they thought he must be something.
Now， you see， this is a little history which will never end； as long as the world exists， there will always be men like these five brothers. And what became of them？ Were they each nothing or something？ You shall hear； it is quite a history.
the eldest brother， he who fabricated bricks， soon discovered that each brick， when finished， brought him in a small coin， if only a copper one； and many copper pieces， if placed one upon another， can be changed into a shining shilling； and at whatever door a person knocks， who has a number of these in his hands， whether it be the baker's， the butcher's， or the tailor's， the door flies open， and he can get all he wants. So you see the value of bricks. Some of the bricks， however， crumbled to pieces， or were broken， but the elder brother found a use for even these.
On the high bank of earth， which formed a dyke on the sea-coast， a poor woman named Margaret wished to build herself a house， so all the imperfect bricks were given to her， and a few whole ones with them； for the eldest brother was a kind-hearted man， although he never achieved anything higher than making bricks. The poor woman built herself a little house—it was small and narrow， and the window was quite crooked， the door too low， and the straw roof might have been better thatched. But still it was a shelter， and from within you could look far over the sea， which dashed wildly against the sea-wall on which the little house was built. The salt waves sprinkled their white foam over it， but it stood firm， and remained long after he who had given the bricks to build it was dead and buried.
the second brother of course knew better how to build than poor Margaret， for he served an apprenticeship to learn it. When his time was up， he packed up his knapsack， and went on his travels， singing the journeyman's song，—
While young， I can wander without a care，And build new houses everywhere；Fair and bright are my dreams of home，Always thought of wherever I roam.
Hurrah for a workman's life of glee！
there's a loved one at home who thinks of me；Home and friends I can ne'er forget，And I mean to be a master yet.
And that is what he did. On his return home， he became a master builder，—built one house after another in the town， till they formed quite a street， which， when finished， became really an ornament to the town. These houses built a house for him in return， which was to be his own. But how can houses build a house？ If the houses were asked， they could not answer； but the people would understand， and say， “Certainly the street built his house for him.” It was not very large， and the floor was of lime； but when he danced with his bride on the lime-covered floor， it was to him white and shining， and from every stone in the wall flowers seemed to spring forth and decorate the room as with the richest tapestry. It was really a pretty house， and in it were a happy pair. The flag of the corporation fluttered before it， and the journeymen and apprentices shouted “Hurrah.” He had gained his position， he had made himself something， and at last he died， which was “something” too.
