{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_1597/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_1597","id":"gutenberg_1597","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1597","summary":null,"tags":["Best Books Ever Listings","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Children's Myths, Fairy Tales, etc.","Children's stories, Danish -- Translations into English","Fairy tales","Fairy tales -- Denmark","Harvard Classics"],"text":"ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES\n\nBy Hans Christian Andersen\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n     The Emperor's New Clothes\n     The Swineherd\n     The Real Princess\n     The Shoes of Fortune\n     The Fir Tree\n     The Snow Queen\n     The Leap-Frog\n     The Elderbush\n     The Bell\n     The Old House\n     The Happy Family\n     The Story of a Mother\n     The False Collar\n     The Shadow\n     The Little Match Girl\n     The Dream of Little Tuk\n     The Naughty Boy\n     The Red Shoes\n\n\n\n\nTHE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES\n\nMany years ago, there was an Emperor, who was so excessively fond of\nnew clothes, that he spent all his money in dress. He did not trouble\nhimself in the least about his soldiers; nor did he care to go either to\nthe theatre or the chase, except for the opportunities then afforded him\nfor displaying his new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of\nthe day; and as of any other king or emperor, one is accustomed to say,\n\u201che is sitting in council,\u201d it was always said of him, \u201cThe Emperor is\nsitting in his wardrobe.\u201d\n\nTime passed merrily in the large town which was his capital; strangers\narrived every day at the court. One day, two rogues, calling themselves\nweavers, made their appearance. They gave out that they knew how to\nweave stuffs of the most beautiful colors and elaborate patterns, the\nclothes manufactured from which should have the wonderful property of\nremaining invisible to everyone who was unfit for the office he held, or\nwho was extraordinarily simple in character.\n\n\u201cThese must, indeed, be splendid clothes!\u201d thought the Emperor. \u201cHad I\nsuch a suit, I might at once find out what men in my realms are unfit\nfor their office, and also be able to distinguish the wise from the\nfoolish! This stuff must be woven for me immediately.\u201d And he caused\nlarge sums of money to be given to both the weavers in order that they\nmight begin their work directly.\n\nSo the two pretended weavers set up two looms, and affected to work very\nbusily, though in reality they did nothing at all. They asked for the\nmost delicate silk and the purest gold thread; put both into their own\nknapsacks; and then continued their pretended work at the empty looms\nuntil late at night.\n\n\u201cI should like to know how the weavers are getting on with my cloth,\u201d\n said the Emperor to himself, after some little time had elapsed; he was,\nhowever, rather embarrassed, when he remembered that a simpleton, or\none unfit for his office, would be unable to see the manufacture. To be\nsure, he thought he had nothing to risk in his own person; but yet, he\nwould prefer sending somebody else, to bring him intelligence about the\nweavers, and their work, before he troubled himself in the affair. All\nthe people throughout the city had heard of the wonderful property the\ncloth was to possess; and all were anxious to learn how wise, or how\nignorant, their neighbors might prove to be.\n\n\u201cI will send my faithful old minister to the weavers,\u201d said the Emperor\nat last, after some deliberation, \u201che will be best able to see how the\ncloth looks; for he is a man of sense, and no one can be more suitable\nfor his office than he is.\u201d\n\nSo the faithful old minister went into the hall, where the knaves were\nworking with all their might, at their empty looms. \u201cWhat can be the\nmeaning of this?\u201d thought the old man, opening his eyes very wide. \u201cI\ncannot discover the least bit of thread on the looms.\u201d However, he did\nnot express his thoughts aloud.\n\nThe impostors requested him very courteously to be so good as to come\nnearer their looms; and then asked him whether the design pleased\nhim, and whether the colors were not very beautiful; at the same time\npointing to the empty frames. The poor old minister looked and looked,\nhe could not discover anything on the looms, for a very good reason,\nviz: there was nothing there. \u201cWhat!\u201d thought he again. \u201cIs it possible\nthat I am a simpleton? I have never thought so myself; and no one must\nknow it now if I am so. Can it be, that I am unfit for my office? No,\nthat must not be said either. I will never confess that I could not see\nthe stuff.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, Sir Minister!\u201d said one of the knaves, still pretending to work.\n\u201cYou do not say whether the stuff pleases you.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, it is excellent!\u201d replied the old minister, looking at the loom\nthrough his spectacles. \u201cThis pattern, and the colors, yes, I will tell\nthe Emperor without delay, how very beautiful I think them.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe shall be much obliged to you,\u201d said the impostors, and then they\nnamed the different colors and described the pattern of the pretended\nstuff. The old minister listened attentively to their words, in order\nthat he might repeat them to the Emperor; and then the knaves asked for\nmore silk and gold, saying that it was necessary to complete what\nthey had begun. However, they put all that was given them into their\nknapsacks; and continued to work with as much apparent diligence as\nbefore at their empty looms.\n\nThe Emperor now sent another officer of his court to see how the men\nwere getting on, and to ascertain whether the cloth would soon be\nready. It was just the same with this gentleman as with the minister;\nhe surveyed the looms on all sides, but could see nothing at all but the\nempty frames.\n\n\u201cDoes not the stuff appear as beautiful to you, as it did to my lord the\nminister?\u201d asked the impostors of the Emperor's second ambassador; at\nthe same time making the same gestures as before, and talking of the\ndesign and colors which were not there.\n\n\u201cI certainly am not stupid!\u201d thought the messenger. \u201cIt must be, that I\nam not fit for my good, profitable office! That is very odd; however, no\none shall know anything about it.\u201d And accordingly he praised the stuff\nhe could not see, and declared that he was delighted with both colors\nand patterns. \u201cIndeed, please your Imperial Majesty,\u201d said he to his\nsovereign when he returned, \u201cthe cloth which the weavers are preparing\nis extraordinarily magnificent.\u201d\n\nThe whole city was talking of the splendid cloth which the Emperor had\nordered to be woven at his own expense.\n\nAnd now the Emperor himself wished to see the costly manufacture, while\nit was still in the loom. Accompanied by a select number of officers of\nthe court, among whom were the two honest men who had already admired\nthe cloth, he went to the crafty impostors, who, as soon as they were\naware of the Emperor's approach, went on working more diligently than\never; although they still did not pass a single thread through the\nlooms.\n\n\u201cIs not the work absolutely magnificent?\u201d said the two officers of the\ncrown, already mentioned. \u201cIf your Majesty will only be pleased to look\nat it! What a splendid design! What glorious colors!\u201d and at the same\ntime they pointed to the empty frames; for they imagined that everyone\nelse could see this exquisite piece of workmanship.\n\n\u201cHow is this?\u201d said the Emperor to himself. \u201cI can see nothing! This\nis indeed a terrible affair! Am I a simpleton, or am I unfit to be an\nEmperor? That would be the worst thing that could happen--Oh! the cloth\nis charming,\u201d said he, aloud. \u201cIt has my complete approbation.\u201d And he\nsmiled most graciously, and looked closely at the empty looms; for on no\naccount would he say that he could not see what two of the officers of\nhis court had praised so much. All his retinue now strained their eyes,\nhoping to discover something on the looms, but they could see no more\nthan the others; nevertheless, they all exclaimed, \u201cOh, how beautiful!\u201d\n and advised his majesty to have some new clothes made from this splendid\nmaterial, for the approaching procession. \u201cMagnificent! Charming!\nExcellent!\u201d resounded on all sides; and everyone was uncommonly gay. The\nEmperor shared in the general satisfaction; and presented the impostors\nwith the riband of an order of knighthood, to be worn in their\nbutton-holes, and the title of \u201cGentlemen Weavers.\u201d\n\nThe rogues sat up the whole of the night before the day on which the\nprocession was to take place, and had sixteen lights burning, so that\neveryone might see how anxious they were to finish the Emperor's new\nsuit. They pretended to roll the cloth off the looms; cut the air with\ntheir scissors; and sewed with needles without any thread in them.\n\u201cSee!\u201d cried they, at last. \u201cThe Emperor's new clothes are ready!\u201d\n\nAnd now the Emperor, with all the grandees of his court, came to the\nweavers; and the rogues raised their arms, as if in the act of holding\nsomething up, saying, \u201cHere are your Majesty's trousers! Here is the\nscarf! Here is the mantle! The whole suit is as light as a cobweb;\none might fancy one has nothing at all on, when dressed in it; that,\nhowever, is the great virtue of this delicate cloth.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes indeed!\u201d said all the courtiers, although not one of them could see\nanything of this exquisite manufacture.\n\n\u201cIf your Imperial Majesty will be graciously pleased to take off your\nclothes, we will fit on the new suit, in front of the looking glass.\u201d\n\nThe Emperor was accordingly undressed, and the rogues pretended to\narray him in his new suit; the Emperor turning round, from side to side,\nbefore the looking glass.\n\n\u201cHow splendid his Majesty looks in his new clothes, and how well they\nfit!\u201d everyone cried out. \u201cWhat a design! What colors! These are indeed\nroyal robes!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe canopy which is to be borne over your Majesty, in the procession,\nis waiting,\u201d announced the chief master of the ceremonies.\n\n\u201cI am quite ready,\u201d answered the Emperor. \u201cDo my new clothes fit well?\u201d\n asked he, turning himself round again before the looking glass, in order\nthat he might appear to be examining his handsome suit.\n\nThe lords of the bedchamber, who were to carry his Majesty's train felt\nabout on the ground, as if they were lifting up the ends of the mantle;\nand pretended to be carrying something; for they would by no means\nbetray anything like simplicity, or unfitness for their office.\n\nSo now the Emperor walked under his high canopy in the midst of the\nprocession, through the streets of his capital; and all the people\nstanding by, and those at the windows, cried out, \u201cOh! How beautiful\nare our Emperor's new clothes! What a magnificent train there is to\nthe mantle; and how gracefully the scarf hangs!\u201d in short, no one would\nallow that he could not see these much-admired clothes; because, in\ndoing so, he would have declared himself either a simpleton or unfit\nfor his office. Certainly, none of the Emperor's various suits, had ever\nmade so great an impression, as these invisible ones.\n\n\u201cBut the Emperor has nothing at all on!\u201d said a little child.\n\n\u201cListen to the voice of innocence!\u201d exclaimed his father; and what the\nchild had said was whispered from one to another.\n\n\u201cBut he has nothing at all on!\u201d at last cried out all the people.\nThe Emperor was vexed, for he knew that the people were right; but he\nthought the procession must go on now! And the lords of the bedchamber\ntook greater pains than ever, to appear holding up a train, although, in\nreality, there was no train to hold.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SWINEHERD\n\nThere was once a poor Prince, who had a kingdom. His kingdom was very\nsmall, but still quite large enough to marry upon; and he wished to\nmarry.\n\nIt was certainly rather cool of him to say to the Emperor's daughter,\n\u201cWill you have me?\u201d But so he did; for his name was renowned far and\nwide; and there were a hundred princesses who would have answered,\n\u201cYes!\u201d and \u201cThank you kindly.\u201d We shall see what this princess said.\n\nListen!\n\nIt happened that where the Prince's father lay buried, there grew a rose\ntree--a most beautiful rose tree, which blossomed only once in every\nfive years, and even then bore only one flower, but that was a rose!\nIt smelt so sweet that all cares and sorrows were forgotten by him who\ninhaled its fragrance.\n\nAnd furthermore, the Prince had a nightingale, who could sing in such a\nmanner that it seemed as though all sweet melodies dwelt in her little\nthroat. So the Princess was to have the rose, and the nightingale; and\nthey were accordingly put into large silver caskets, and sent to her.\n\nThe Emperor had them brought into a large hall, where the Princess was\nplaying at \u201cVisiting,\u201d with the ladies of the court; and when she saw\nthe caskets with the presents, she clapped her hands for joy.\n\n\u201cAh, if it were but a little pussy-cat!\u201d said she; but the rose tree,\nwith its beautiful rose came to view.\n\n\u201cOh, how prettily it is made!\u201d said all the court ladies.\n\n\u201cIt is more than pretty,\u201d said the Emperor, \u201cit is charming!\u201d\n\nBut the Princess touched it, and was almost ready to cry.\n\n\u201cFie, papa!\u201d said she. \u201cIt is not made at all, it is natural!\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us see what is in the other casket, before we get into a bad\nhumor,\u201d said the Emperor. So the nightingale came forth and sang so\ndelightfully that at first no one could say anything ill-humored of her.\n\n\u201cSuperbe! Charmant!\u201d exclaimed the ladies; for they all used to chatter\nFrench, each one worse than her neighbor.\n\n\u201cHow much the bird reminds me of the musical box that belonged to our\nblessed Empress,\u201d said an old knight. \u201cOh yes! These are the same tones,\nthe same execution.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes! yes!\u201d said the Emperor, and he wept like a child at the\nremembrance.\n\n\u201cI will still hope that it is not a real bird,\u201d said the Princess.\n\n\u201cYes, it is a real bird,\u201d said those who had brought it. \u201cWell then let\nthe bird fly,\u201d said the Princess; and she positively refused to see the\nPrince.\n\nHowever, he was not to be discouraged; he daubed his face over brown and\nblack; pulled his cap over his ears, and knocked at the door.\n\n\u201cGood day to my lord, the Emperor!\u201d said he. \u201cCan I have employment at\nthe palace?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, yes,\u201d said the Emperor. \u201cI want some one to take care of the pigs,\nfor we have a great many of them.\u201d\n\nSo the Prince was appointed \u201cImperial Swineherd.\u201d He had a dirty little\nroom close by the pigsty; and there he sat the whole day, and worked. By\nthe evening he had made a pretty little kitchen-pot. Little bells were\nhung all round it; and when the pot was boiling, these bells tinkled in\nthe most charming manner, and played the old melody,\n\n    \u201cAch! du lieber Augustin,\n    Alles ist weg, weg, weg!\u201d*\n\n    * \u201cAh! dear Augustine!\n    All is gone, gone, gone!\u201d\n\n\nBut what was still more curious, whoever held his finger in the smoke of\nthe kitchen-pot, immediately smelt all the dishes that were cooking on\nevery hearth in the city--this, you see, was something quite different\nfrom the rose.\n\nNow the Princess happened to walk that way; and when she heard the tune,\nshe stood quite still, and seemed pleased; for she could play \u201cLieber\nAugustine\u201d; it was the only piece she knew; and she played it with one\nfinger.\n\n\u201cWhy there is my piece,\u201d said the Princess. \u201cThat swineherd must\ncertainly have been well educated! Go in and ask him the price of the\ninstrument.\u201d\n\nSo one of the court-ladies must run in; however, she drew on wooden\nslippers first.\n\n\u201cWhat will you take for the kitchen-pot?\u201d said the lady.\n\n\u201cI will have ten kisses from the Princess,\u201d said the swineherd.\n\n\u201cYes, indeed!\u201d said the lady.\n\n\u201cI cannot sell it for less,\u201d rejoined the swineherd.\n\n\u201cHe is an impudent fellow!\u201d said the Princess, and she walked on; but\nwhen she had gone a little way, the bells tinkled so prettily\n\n    \u201cAch! du lieber Augustin,\n    Alles ist weg, weg, weg!\u201d\n\n\u201cStay,\u201d said the Princess. \u201cAsk him if he will have ten kisses from the\nladies of my court.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, thank you!\u201d said the swineherd. \u201cTen kisses from the Princess, or I\nkeep the kitchen-pot myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat must not be, either!\u201d said the Princess. \u201cBut do you all stand\nbefore me that no one may see us.\u201d\n\nAnd the court-ladies placed themselves in front of her, and spread\nout their dresses--the swineherd got ten kisses, and the Princess--the\nkitchen-pot.\n\nThat was delightful! The pot was boiling the whole evening, and the\nwhole of the following day. They knew perfectly well what was cooking at\nevery fire throughout the city, from the chamberlain's to the cobbler's;\nthe court-ladies danced and clapped their hands.\n\n\u201cWe know who has soup, and who has pancakes for dinner to-day, who has\ncutlets, and who has eggs. How interesting!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but keep my secret, for I am an Emperor's daughter.\u201d\n\nThe swineherd--that is to say--the Prince, for no one knew that he was\nother than an ill-favored swineherd, let not a day pass without working\nat something; he at last constructed a rattle, which, when it was swung\nround, played all the waltzes and jig tunes, which have ever been heard\nsince the creation of the world.\n\n\u201cAh, that is superbe!\u201d said the Princess when she passed by. \u201cI have\nnever heard prettier compositions! Go in and ask him the price of the\ninstrument; but mind, he shall have no more kisses!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will have a hundred kisses from the Princess!\u201d said the lady who had\nbeen to ask.\n\n\u201cI think he is not in his right senses!\u201d said the Princess, and walked\non, but when she had gone a little way, she stopped again. \u201cOne must\nencourage art,\u201d said she, \u201cI am the Emperor's daughter. Tell him he\nshall, as on yesterday, have ten kisses from me, and may take the rest\nfrom the ladies of the court.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh--but we should not like that at all!\u201d said they. \u201cWhat are you\nmuttering?\u201d asked the Princess. \u201cIf I can kiss him, surely you can.\nRemember that you owe everything to me.\u201d So the ladies were obliged to\ngo to him again.\n\n\u201cA hundred kisses from the Princess,\u201d said he, \u201cor else let everyone\nkeep his own!\u201d\n\n\u201cStand round!\u201d said she; and all the ladies stood round her whilst the\nkissing was going on.\n\n\u201cWhat can be the reason for such a crowd close by the pigsty?\u201d said the\nEmperor, who happened just then to step out on the balcony; he rubbed\nhis eyes, and put on his spectacles. \u201cThey are the ladies of the\ncourt; I must go down and see what they are about!\u201d So he pulled up his\nslippers at the heel, for he had trodden them down.\n\nAs soon as he had got into the court-yard, he moved very softly, and the\nladies were so much engrossed with counting the kisses, that all might\ngo on fairly, that they did not perceive the Emperor. He rose on his\ntiptoes.\n\n\u201cWhat is all this?\u201d said he, when he saw what was going on, and he boxed\nthe Princess's ears with his slipper, just as the swineherd was taking\nthe eighty-sixth kiss.\n\n\u201cMarch out!\u201d said the Emperor, for he was very angry; and both Princess\nand swineherd were thrust out of the city.\n\nThe Princess now stood and wept, the swineherd scolded, and the rain\npoured down.\n\n\u201cAlas! Unhappy creature that I am!\u201d said the Princess. \u201cIf I had but\nmarried the handsome young Prince! Ah! how unfortunate I am!\u201d\n\nAnd the swineherd went behind a tree, washed the black and brown color\nfrom his face, threw off his dirty clothes, and stepped forth in his\nprincely robes; he looked so noble that the Princess could not help\nbowing before him.\n\n\u201cI am come to despise thee,\u201d said he. \u201cThou would'st not have an\nhonorable Prince! Thou could'st not prize the rose and the nightingale,\nbut thou wast ready to kiss the swineherd for the sake of a trumpery\nplaything. Thou art rightly served.\u201d\n\nHe then went back to his own little kingdom, and shut the door of his\npalace in her face. Now she might well sing,\n\n    \u201cAch! du lieber Augustin,\n    Alles ist weg, weg, weg!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE REAL PRINCESS\n\nThere was once a Prince who wished to marry a Princess; but then she\nmust be a real Princess. He travelled all over the world in hopes of\nfinding such a lady; but there was always something wrong. Princesses he\nfound in plenty; but whether they were real Princesses it was impossible\nfor him to decide, for now one thing, now another, seemed to him not\nquite right about the ladies. At last he returned to his palace quite\ncast down, because he wished so much to have a real Princess for his\nwife.\n\nOne evening a fearful tempest arose, it thundered and lightened, and the\nrain poured down from the sky in torrents: besides, it was as dark as\npitch. All at once there was heard a violent knocking at the door, and\nthe old King, the Prince's father, went out himself to open it.\n\nIt was a Princess who was standing outside the door. What with the rain\nand the wind, she was in a sad condition; the water trickled down from\nher hair, and her clothes clung to her body. She said she was a real\nPrincess.\n\n\u201cAh! we shall soon see that!\u201d thought the old Queen-mother; however, she\nsaid not a word of what she was going to do; but went quietly into the\nbedroom, took all the bed-clothes off the bed, and put three little peas\non the bedstead. She then laid twenty mattresses one upon another over\nthe three peas, and put twenty feather beds over the mattresses.\n\nUpon this bed the Princess was to pass the night.\n\nThe next morning she was asked how she had slept. \u201cOh, very badly\nindeed!\u201d she replied. \u201cI have scarcely closed my eyes the whole night\nthrough. I do not know what was in my bed, but I had something hard\nunder me, and am all over black and blue. It has hurt me so much!\u201d\n\nNow it was plain that the lady must be a real Princess, since she had\nbeen able to feel the three little peas through the twenty mattresses\nand twenty feather beds. None but a real Princess could have had such a\ndelicate sense of feeling.\n\nThe Prince accordingly made her his wife; being now convinced that he\nhad found a real Princess. The three peas were however put into the\ncabinet of curiosities, where they are still to be seen, provided they\nare not lost.\n\nWasn't this a lady of real delicacy?\n\n\n\n\nTHE SHOES OF FORTUNE\n\nI. A Beginning\n\nEvery author has some peculiarity in his descriptions or in his style\nof writing. Those who do not like him, magnify it, shrug up their\nshoulders, and exclaim--there he is again! I, for my part, know very\nwell how I can bring about this movement and this exclamation. It would\nhappen immediately if I were to begin here, as I intended to do, with:\n\u201cRome has its Corso, Naples its Toledo\u201d--\u201cAh! that Andersen; there he is\nagain!\u201d they would cry; yet I must, to please my fancy, continue quite\nquietly, and add: \u201cBut Copenhagen has its East Street.\u201d\n\nHere, then, we will stay for the present. In one of the houses not far\nfrom the new market a party was invited--a very large party, in order,\nas is often the case, to get a return invitation from the others. One\nhalf of the company was already seated at the card-table, the other half\nawaited the result of the stereotype preliminary observation of the lady\nof the house:\n\n\u201cNow let us see what we can do to amuse ourselves.\u201d\n\nThey had got just so far, and the conversation began to crystallise,\nas it could but do with the scanty stream which the commonplace world\nsupplied. Amongst other things they spoke of the middle ages: some\npraised that period as far more interesting, far more poetical than our\nown too sober present; indeed Councillor Knap defended this opinion\nso warmly, that the hostess declared immediately on his side, and both\nexerted themselves with unwearied eloquence. The Councillor boldly\ndeclared the time of King Hans to be the noblest and the most happy\nperiod.*\n\n* A.D. 1482-1513\n\n\nWhile the conversation turned on this subject, and was only for a moment\ninterrupted by the arrival of a journal that contained nothing worth\nreading, we will just step out into the antechamber, where cloaks,\nmackintoshes, sticks, umbrellas, and shoes, were deposited. Here sat two\nfemale figures, a young and an old one. One might have thought at first\nthey were servants come to accompany their mistresses home; but on\nlooking nearer, one soon saw they could scarcely be mere servants; their\nforms were too noble for that, their skin too fine, the cut of their\ndress too striking. Two fairies were they; the younger, it is true,\nwas not Dame Fortune herself, but one of the waiting-maids of her\nhandmaidens who carry about the lesser good things that she distributes;\nthe other looked extremely gloomy--it was Care. She always attends to\nher own serious business herself, as then she is sure of having it done\nproperly.\n\nThey were telling each other, with a confidential interchange of ideas,\nwhere they had been during the day. The messenger of Fortune had only\nexecuted a few unimportant commissions, such as saving a new bonnet from\na shower of rain, etc.; but what she had yet to perform was something\nquite unusual.\n\n\u201cI must tell you,\u201d said she, \u201cthat to-day is my birthday; and in honor\nof it, a pair of walking-shoes or galoshes has been entrusted to me,\nwhich I am to carry to mankind. These shoes possess the property of\ninstantly transporting him who has them on to the place or the period\nin which he most wishes to be; every wish, as regards time or place, or\nstate of being, will be immediately fulfilled, and so at last man will\nbe happy, here below.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you seriously believe it?\u201d replied Care, in a severe tone of\nreproach. \u201cNo; he will be very unhappy, and will assuredly bless the\nmoment when he feels that he has freed himself from the fatal shoes.\u201d\n\n\u201cStupid nonsense!\u201d said the other angrily. \u201cI will put them here by\nthe door. Some one will make a mistake for certain and take the wrong\nones--he will be a happy man.\u201d\n\nSuch was their conversation.\n\n\nII. What Happened to the Councillor\n\nIt was late; Councillor Knap, deeply occupied with the times of King\nHans, intended to go home, and malicious Fate managed matters so that\nhis feet, instead of finding their way to his own galoshes, slipped\ninto those of Fortune. Thus caparisoned the good man walked out of the\nwell-lighted rooms into East Street. By the magic power of the shoes he\nwas carried back to the times of King Hans; on which account his foot\nvery naturally sank in the mud and puddles of the street, there having\nbeen in those days no pavement in Copenhagen.\n\n\u201cWell! This is too bad! How dirty it is here!\u201d sighed the Councillor.\n\u201cAs to a pavement, I can find no traces of one, and all the lamps, it\nseems, have gone to sleep.\u201d\n\nThe moon was not yet very high; it was besides rather foggy, so that\nin the darkness all objects seemed mingled in chaotic confusion. At the\nnext corner hung a votive lamp before a Madonna, but the light it gave\nwas little better than none at all; indeed, he did not observe it before\nhe was exactly under it, and his eyes fell upon the bright colors of the\npictures which represented the well-known group of the Virgin and the\ninfant Jesus.\n\n\u201cThat is probably a wax-work show,\u201d thought he; \u201cand the people delay\ntaking down their sign in hopes of a late visitor or two.\u201d\n\nA few persons in the costume of the time of King Hans passed quickly by\nhim.\n\n\u201cHow strange they look! The good folks come probably from a masquerade!\u201d\n\nSuddenly was heard the sound of drums and fifes; the bright blaze of a\nfire shot up from time to time, and its ruddy gleams seemed to contend\nwith the bluish light of the torches. The Councillor stood still, and\nwatched a most strange procession pass by. First came a dozen drummers,\nwho understood pretty well how to handle their instruments; then came\nhalberdiers, and some armed with cross-bows. The principal person in the\nprocession was a priest. Astonished at what he saw, the Councillor asked\nwhat was the meaning of all this mummery, and who that man was.\n\n\u201cThat's the Bishop of Zealand,\u201d was the answer.\n\n\u201cGood Heavens! What has taken possession of the Bishop?\u201d sighed the\nCouncillor, shaking his head. It certainly could not be the Bishop; even\nthough he was considered the most absent man in the whole kingdom, and\npeople told the drollest anecdotes about him. Reflecting on the matter,\nand without looking right or left, the Councillor went through East\nStreet and across the Habro-Platz. The bridge leading to Palace Square\nwas not to be found; scarcely trusting his senses, the nocturnal\nwanderer discovered a shallow piece of water, and here fell in with two\nmen who very comfortably were rocking to and fro in a boat.\n\n\u201cDoes your honor want to cross the ferry to the Holme?\u201d asked they.\n\n\u201cAcross to the Holme!\u201d said the Councillor, who knew nothing of the age\nin which he at that moment was. \u201cNo, I am going to Christianshafen, to\nLittle Market Street.\u201d\n\nBoth men stared at him in astonishment.\n\n\u201cOnly just tell me where the bridge is,\u201d said he. \u201cIt is really\nunpardonable that there are no lamps here; and it is as dirty as if one\nhad to wade through a morass.\u201d\n\nThe longer he spoke with the boatmen, the more unintelligible did their\nlanguage become to him.\n\n\u201cI don't understand your Bornholmish dialect,\u201d said he at last, angrily,\nand turning his back upon them. He was unable to find the bridge: there\nwas no railway either. \u201cIt is really disgraceful what a state this place\nis in,\u201d muttered he to himself. Never had his age, with which, however,\nhe was always grumbling, seemed so miserable as on this evening. \u201cI'll\ntake a hackney-coach!\u201d thought he. But where were the hackney-coaches?\nNot one was to be seen.\n\n\u201cI must go back to the New Market; there, it is to be hoped, I\nshall find some coaches; for if I don't, I shall never get safe to\nChristianshafen.\u201d\n\nSo off he went in the direction of East Street, and had nearly got to\nthe end of it when the moon shone forth.\n\n\u201cGod bless me! What wooden scaffolding is that which they have set up\nthere?\u201d cried he involuntarily, as he looked at East Gate, which, in\nthose days, was at the end of East Street.\n\nHe found, however, a little side-door open, and through this he went,\nand stepped into our New Market of the present time. It was a huge\ndesolate plain; some wild bushes stood up here and there, while across\nthe field flowed a broad canal or river. Some wretched hovels for the\nDutch sailors, resembling great boxes, and after which the place was\nnamed, lay about in confused disorder on the opposite bank.\n\n\u201cI either behold a fata morgana, or I am regularly tipsy,\u201d whimpered out\nthe Councillor. \u201cBut what's this?\u201d\n\nHe turned round anew, firmly convinced that he was seriously ill. He\ngazed at the street formerly so well known to him, and now so strange in\nappearance, and looked at the houses more attentively: most of them were\nof wood, slightly put together; and many had a thatched roof.\n\n\u201cNo--I am far from well,\u201d sighed he; \u201cand yet I drank only one glass of\npunch; but I cannot suppose it--it was, too, really very wrong to give\nus punch and hot salmon for supper. I shall speak about it at the first\nopportunity. I have half a mind to go back again, and say what I suffer.\nBut no, that would be too silly; and Heaven only knows if they are up\nstill.\u201d\n\nHe looked for the house, but it had vanished.\n\n\u201cIt is really dreadful,\u201d groaned he with increasing anxiety; \u201cI cannot\nrecognise East Street again; there is not a single decent shop from one\nend to the other! Nothing but wretched huts can I see anywhere; just\nas if I were at Ringstead. Oh! I am ill! I can scarcely bear myself any\nlonger. Where the deuce can the house be? It must be here on this very\nspot; yet there is not the slightest idea of resemblance, to such a\ndegree has everything changed this night! At all events here are some\npeople up and stirring. Oh! oh! I am certainly very ill.\u201d\n\nHe now hit upon a half-open door, through a chink of which a faint light\nshone. It was a sort of hostelry of those times; a kind of public-house.\nThe room had some resemblance to the clay-floored halls in Holstein; a\npretty numerous company, consisting of seamen, Copenhagen burghers, and\na few scholars, sat here in deep converse over their pewter cans, and\ngave little heed to the person who entered.\n\n\u201cBy your leave!\u201d said the Councillor to the Hostess, who came bustling\ntowards him. \u201cI've felt so queer all of a sudden; would you have the\ngoodness to send for a hackney-coach to take me to Christianshafen?\u201d\n\nThe woman examined him with eyes of astonishment, and shook her head;\nshe then addressed him in German. The Councillor thought she did not\nunderstand Danish, and therefore repeated his wish in German. This, in\nconnection with his costume, strengthened the good woman in the belief\nthat he was a foreigner. That he was ill, she comprehended directly; so\nshe brought him a pitcher of water, which tasted certainly pretty strong\nof the sea, although it had been fetched from the well.\n\nThe Councillor supported his head on his hand, drew a long breath, and\nthought over all the wondrous things he saw around him.\n\n\u201cIs this the Daily News of this evening?\u201d he asked mechanically, as he\nsaw the Hostess push aside a large sheet of paper.\n\nThe meaning of this councillorship query remained, of course, a riddle\nto her, yet she handed him the paper without replying. It was a coarse\nwood-cut, representing a splendid meteor \u201cas seen in the town of\nCologne,\u201d which was to be read below in bright letters.\n\n\u201cThat is very old!\u201d said the Councillor, whom this piece of antiquity\nbegan to make considerably more cheerful. \u201cPray how did you come into\npossession of this rare print? It is extremely interesting, although the\nwhole is a mere fable. Such meteorous appearances are to be explained in\nthis way--that they are the reflections of the Aurora Borealis, and it\nis highly probable they are caused principally by electricity.\u201d\n\nThose persons who were sitting nearest him and heard his speech,\nstared at him in wonderment; and one of them rose, took off his hat\nrespectfully, and said with a serious countenance, \u201cYou are no doubt a\nvery learned man, Monsieur.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh no,\u201d answered the Councillor, \u201cI can only join in conversation on\nthis topic and on that, as indeed one must do according to the demands\nof the world at present.\u201d\n\n\u201cModestia is a fine virtue,\u201d continued the gentleman; \u201chowever, as to\nyour speech, I must say mihi secus videtur: yet I am willing to suspend\nmy judicium.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay I ask with whom I have the pleasure of speaking?\u201d asked the\nCouncillor.\n\n\u201cI am a Bachelor in Theologia,\u201d answered the gentleman with a stiff\nreverence.\n\nThis reply fully satisfied the Councillor; the title suited the dress.\n\u201cHe is certainly,\u201d thought he, \u201csome village schoolmaster--some queer\nold fellow, such as one still often meets with in Jutland.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is no locus docendi, it is true,\u201d began the clerical gentleman;\n\u201cyet I beg you earnestly to let us profit by your learning. Your reading\nin the ancients is, sine dubio, of vast extent?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh yes, I've read something, to be sure,\u201d replied the Councillor. \u201cI\nlike reading all useful works; but I do not on that account despise the\nmodern ones; 'tis only the unfortunate 'Tales of Every-day Life' that I\ncannot bear--we have enough and more than enough such in reality.\u201d\n\n\u201c'Tales of Every-day Life?'\u201d said our Bachelor inquiringly.\n\n\u201cI mean those new fangled novels, twisting and writhing themselves in\nthe dust of commonplace, which also expect to find a reading public.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d exclaimed the clerical gentleman smiling, \u201cthere is much wit in\nthem; besides they are read at court. The King likes the history of Sir\nIffven and Sir Gaudian particularly, which treats of King Arthur, and\nhis Knights of the Round Table; he has more than once joked about it\nwith his high vassals.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have not read that novel,\u201d said the Councillor; \u201cit must be quite a\nnew one, that Heiberg has published lately.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered the theologian of the time of King Hans: \u201cthat book is\nnot written by a Heiberg, but was imprinted by Godfrey von Gehmen.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, is that the author's name?\u201d said the Councillor. \u201cIt is a very\nold name, and, as well as I recollect, he was the first printer that\nappeared in Denmark.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, he is our first printer,\u201d replied the clerical gentleman hastily.\n\nSo far all went on well. Some one of the worthy burghers now spoke of\nthe dreadful pestilence that had raged in the country a few years back,\nmeaning that of 1484. The Councillor imagined it was the cholera that\nwas meant, which people made so much fuss about; and the discourse\npassed off satisfactorily enough. The war of the buccaneers of 1490 was\nso recent that it could not fail being alluded to; the English\npirates had, they said, most shamefully taken their ships while in the\nroadstead; and the Councillor, before whose eyes the Herostratic [*]\nevent of 1801 still floated vividly, agreed entirely with the others in\nabusing the rascally English. With other topics he was not so fortunate;\nevery moment brought about some new confusion, and threatened to become\na perfect Babel; for the worthy Bachelor was really too ignorant, and\nthe simplest observations of the Councillor sounded to him too daring\nand phantastical. They looked at one another from the crown of the head\nto the soles of the feet; and when matters grew to too high a\npitch, then the Bachelor talked Latin, in the hope of being better\nunderstood--but it was of no use after all.\n\n     * Herostratus, or Eratostratus--an Ephesian, who wantonly\n     set fire to the famous temple of Diana, in order to\n     commemorate his name by so uncommon an action.\n\n\u201cWhat's the matter?\u201d asked the Hostess, plucking the Councillor by the\nsleeve; and now his recollection returned, for in the course of the\nconversation he had entirely forgotten all that had preceded it.\n\n\u201cMerciful God, where am I!\u201d exclaimed he in agony; and while he so\nthought, all his ideas and feelings of overpowering dizziness, against\nwhich he struggled with the utmost power of desperation, encompassed\nhim with renewed force. \u201cLet us drink claret and mead, and Bremen beer,\u201d\n shouted one of the guests--\u201cand you shall drink with us!\u201d\n\nTwo maidens approached. One wore a cap of two staring colors, denoting\nthe class of persons to which she belonged. They poured out the liquor,\nand made the most friendly gesticulations; while a cold perspiration\ntrickled down the back of the poor Councillor.\n\n\u201cWhat's to be the end of this! What's to become of me!\u201d groaned he; but\nhe was forced, in spite of his opposition, to drink with the rest. They\ntook hold of the worthy man; who, hearing on every side that he was\nintoxicated, did not in the least doubt the truth of this certainly\nnot very polite assertion; but on the contrary, implored the ladies\nand gentlemen present to procure him a hackney-coach: they, however,\nimagined he was talking Russian.\n\nNever before, he thought, had he been in such a coarse and ignorant\ncompany; one might almost fancy the people had turned heathens again.\n\u201cIt is the most dreadful moment of my life: the whole world is leagued\nagainst me!\u201d But suddenly it occurred to him that he might stoop down\nunder the table, and then creep unobserved out of the door. He did so;\nbut just as he was going, the others remarked what he was about; they\nlaid hold of him by the legs; and now, happily for him, off fell his\nfatal shoes--and with them the charm was at an end.\n\nThe Councillor saw quite distinctly before him a lantern burning, and\nbehind this a large handsome house. All seemed to him in proper order as\nusual; it was East Street, splendid and elegant as we now see it. He lay\nwith his feet towards a doorway, and exactly opposite sat the watchman\nasleep.\n\n\u201cGracious Heaven!\u201d said he. \u201cHave I lain here in the street and dreamed?\nYes; 'tis East Street! How splendid and light it is! But really it is\nterrible what an effect that one glass of punch must have had on me!\u201d\n\nTwo minutes later, he was sitting in a hackney-coach and driving to\nFrederickshafen. He thought of the distress and agony he had endured,\nand praised from the very bottom of his heart the happy reality--our own\ntime--which, with all its deficiencies, is yet much better than that in\nwhich, so much against his inclination, he had lately been.\n\n\nIII. The Watchman's Adventure\n\n\u201cWhy, there is a pair of galoshes, as sure as I'm alive!\u201d said the\nwatchman, awaking from a gentle slumber. \u201cThey belong no doubt to the\nlieutenant who lives over the way. They lie close to the door.\u201d\n\nThe worthy man was inclined to ring and deliver them at the house, for\nthere was still a light in the window; but he did not like disturbing\nthe other people in their beds, and so very considerately he left the\nmatter alone.\n\n\u201cSuch a pair of shoes must be very warm and comfortable,\u201d said he; \u201cthe\nleather is so soft and supple.\u201d They fitted his feet as though they\nhad been made for him. \u201c'Tis a curious world we live in,\u201d continued he,\nsoliloquizing. \u201cThere is the lieutenant, now, who might go quietly to\nbed if he chose, where no doubt he could stretch himself at his ease;\nbut does he do it? No; he saunters up and down his room, because,\nprobably, he has enjoyed too many of the good things of this world at\nhis dinner. That's a happy fellow! He has neither an infirm mother, nor\na whole troop of everlastingly hungry children to torment him. Every\nevening he goes to a party, where his nice supper costs him nothing:\nwould to Heaven I could but change with him! How happy should I be!\u201d\n\nWhile expressing his wish, the charm of the shoes, which he had put on,\nbegan to work; the watchman entered into the being and nature of the\nlieutenant. He stood in the handsomely furnished apartment, and held\nbetween his fingers a small sheet of rose-colored paper, on which some\nverses were written--written indeed by the officer himself; for who has\nnot, at least once in his life, had a lyrical moment? And if one then\nmarks down one's thoughts, poetry is produced. But here was written:\n\n                  OH, WERE I RICH!\n\n     \u201cOh, were I rich! Such was my wish, yea such\n      When hardly three feet high, I longed for much.\n       Oh, were I rich! an officer were I,\n       With sword, and uniform, and plume so high.\n       And the time came, and officer was I!\n     But yet I grew not rich. Alas, poor me!\n     Have pity, Thou, who all man's wants dost see.\n\n        \u201cI sat one evening sunk in dreams of bliss,\n      A maid of seven years old gave me a kiss,\n       I at that time was rich in poesy\n       And tales of old, though poor as poor could be;\n       But all she asked for was this poesy.\n     Then was I rich, but not in gold, poor me!\n     As Thou dost know, who all men's hearts canst see.\n\n        \u201cOh, were I rich! Oft asked I for this boon.\n      The child grew up to womanhood full soon.\n       She is so pretty, clever, and so kind\n     Oh, did she know what's hidden in my mind--\n       A tale of old. Would she to me were kind!\n     But I'm condemned to silence! oh, poor me!\n     As Thou dost know, who all men's hearts canst see.\n\n        \u201cOh, were I rich in calm and peace of mind,\n      My grief you then would not here written find!\n       O thou, to whom I do my heart devote,\n       Oh read this page of glad days now remote,\n       A dark, dark tale, which I tonight devote!\n     Dark is the future now. Alas, poor me!\n     Have pity Thou, who all men's pains dost see.\u201d\n\nSuch verses as these people write when they are in love! But no man\nin his senses ever thinks of printing them. Here one of the sorrows of\nlife, in which there is real poetry, gave itself vent; not that\nbarren grief which the poet may only hint at, but never depict in its\ndetail--misery and want: that animal necessity, in short, to snatch\nat least at a fallen leaf of the bread-fruit tree, if not at the fruit\nitself. The higher the position in which one finds oneself transplanted,\nthe greater is the suffering. Everyday necessity is the stagnant pool of\nlife--no lovely picture reflects itself therein. Lieutenant, love, and\nlack of money--that is a symbolic triangle, or much the same as the\nhalf of the shattered die of Fortune. This the lieutenant felt most\npoignantly, and this was the reason he leant his head against the\nwindow, and sighed so deeply.\n\n\u201cThe poor watchman out there in the street is far happier than I. He\nknows not what I term privation. He has a home, a wife, and children,\nwho weep with him over his sorrows, who rejoice with him when he is\nglad. Oh, far happier were I, could I exchange with him my being--with\nhis desires and with his hopes perform the weary pilgrimage of life! Oh,\nhe is a hundred times happier than I!\u201d\n\nIn the same moment the watchman was again watchman. It was the shoes\nthat caused the metamorphosis by means of which, unknown to himself, he\ntook upon him the thoughts and feelings of the officer; but, as we have\njust seen, he felt himself in his new situation much less contented,\nand now preferred the very thing which but some minutes before he had\nrejected. So then the watchman was again watchman.\n\n\u201cThat was an unpleasant dream,\u201d said he; \u201cbut 'twas droll enough\naltogether. I fancied that I was the lieutenant over there: and yet\nthe thing was not very much to my taste after all. I missed my good old\nmother and the dear little ones; who almost tear me to pieces for sheer\nlove.\u201d\n\nHe seated himself once more and nodded: the dream continued to haunt\nhim, for he still had the shoes on his feet. A falling star shone in the\ndark firmament.\n\n\u201cThere falls another star,\u201d said he: \u201cbut what does it matter; there\nare always enough left. I should not much mind examining the little\nglimmering things somewhat nearer, especially the moon; for that would\nnot slip so easily through a man's fingers. When we die--so at least\nsays the student, for whom my wife does the washing--we shall fly about\nas light as a feather from one such a star to the other. That's, of\ncourse, not true: but 'twould be pretty enough if it were so. If I could\nbut once take a leap up there, my body might stay here on the steps for\nwhat I care.\u201d\n\nBehold--there are certain things in the world to which one ought never\nto give utterance except with the greatest caution; but doubly careful\nmust one be when we have the Shoes of Fortune on our feet. Now just\nlisten to what happened to the watchman.\n\nAs to ourselves, we all know the speed produced by the employment of\nsteam; we have experienced it either on railroads, or in boats when\ncrossing the sea; but such a flight is like the travelling of a sloth in\ncomparison with the velocity with which light moves. It flies nineteen\nmillion times faster than the best race-horse; and yet electricity is\nquicker still. Death is an electric shock which our heart receives; the\nfreed soul soars upwards on the wings of electricity. The sun's light\nwants eight minutes and some seconds to perform a journey of more than\ntwenty million of our Danish [*] miles; borne by electricity, the soul\nwants even some minutes less to accomplish the same flight. To it the\nspace between the heavenly bodies is not greater than the distance\nbetween the homes of our friends in town is for us, even if they live a\nshort way from each other; such an electric shock in the heart, however,\ncosts us the use of the body here below; unless, like the watchman of\nEast Street, we happen to have on the Shoes of Fortune.\n\n     * A Danish mile is nearly 4 3/4 English.\n\n\nIn a few seconds the watchman had done the fifty-two thousand of our\nmiles up to the moon, which, as everyone knows, was formed out of\nmatter much lighter than our earth; and is, so we should say, as soft\nas newly-fallen snow. He found himself on one of the many circumjacent\nmountain-ridges with which we are acquainted by means of Dr. Madler's\n\u201cMap of the Moon.\u201d Within, down it sunk perpendicularly into a caldron,\nabout a Danish mile in depth; while below lay a town, whose appearance\nwe can, in some measure, realize to ourselves by beating the white of\nan egg in a glass of water. The matter of which it was built was just as\nsoft, and formed similar towers, and domes, and pillars, transparent and\nrocking in the thin air; while above his head our earth was rolling like\na large fiery ball.\n\nHe perceived immediately a quantity of beings who were certainly what\nwe call \u201cmen\u201d; yet they looked different to us. A far more correct\nimagination than that of the pseudo-Herschel* had created them; and\nif they had been placed in rank and file, and copied by some skilful\npainter's hand, one would, without doubt, have exclaimed involuntarily,\n\u201cWhat a beautiful arabesque!\u201d\n\n*This relates to a book published some years ago in Germany, and said\nto be by Herschel, which contained a description of the moon and its\ninhabitants, written with such a semblance of truth that many were\ndeceived by the imposture.\n\nProbably a translation of the celebrated Moon hoax, written by Richard\nA. Locke, and originally published in New York.\n\n\nThey had a language too; but surely nobody can expect that the soul of\nthe watchman should understand it. Be that as it may, it did comprehend\nit; for in our souls there germinate far greater powers than we poor\nmortals, despite all our cleverness, have any notion of. Does she\nnot show us--she the queen in the land of enchantment--her astounding\ndramatic talent in all our dreams? There every acquaintance appears and\nspeaks upon the stage, so entirely in character, and with the same tone\nof voice, that none of us, when awake, were able to imitate it. How\nwell can she recall persons to our mind, of whom we have not thought for\nyears; when suddenly they step forth \u201cevery inch a man,\u201d resembling the\nreal personages, even to the finest features, and become the heroes\nor heroines of our world of dreams. In reality, such remembrances are\nrather unpleasant: every sin, every evil thought, may, like a clock with\nalarm or chimes, be repeated at pleasure; then the question is if we can\ntrust ourselves to give an account of every unbecoming word in our heart\nand on our lips.\n\nThe watchman's spirit understood the language of the inhabitants of the\nmoon pretty well. The Selenites* disputed variously about our earth,\nand expressed their doubts if it could be inhabited: the air, they said,\nmust certainly be too dense to allow any rational dweller in the moon\nthe necessary free respiration. They considered the moon alone to\nbe inhabited: they imagined it was the real heart of the universe or\nplanetary system, on which the genuine Cosmopolites, or citizens of the\nworld, dwelt. What strange things men--no, what strange things Selenites\nsometimes take into their heads!\n\n* Dwellers in the moon.\n\n\nAbout politics they had a good deal to say. But little Denmark must\ntake care what it is about, and not run counter to the moon; that\ngreat realm, that might in an ill-humor bestir itself, and dash down a\nhail-storm in our faces, or force the Baltic to overflow the sides of\nits gigantic basin.\n\nWe will, therefore, not listen to what was spoken, and on no condition\nrun in the possibility of telling tales out of school; but we will\nrather proceed, like good quiet citizens, to East Street, and observe\nwhat happened meanwhile to the body of the watchman.\n\nHe sat lifeless on the steps: the morning-star,* that is to say, the\nheavy wooden staff, headed with iron spikes, and which had nothing else\nin common with its sparkling brother in the sky, had glided from his\nhand; while his eyes were fixed with glassy stare on the moon, looking\nfor the good old fellow of a spirit which still haunted it.\n\n*The watchmen in Germany, had formerly, and in some places they still\ncarry with them, on their rounds at night, a sort of mace or club, known\nin ancient times by the above denomination.\n\n\n\u201cWhat's the hour, watchman?\u201d asked a passer-by. But when the watchman\ngave no reply, the merry roysterer, who was now returning home from a\nnoisy drinking bout, took it into his head to try what a tweak of the\nnose would do, on which the supposed sleeper lost his balance, the body\nlay motionless, stretched out on the pavement: the man was dead. When\nthe patrol came up, all his comrades, who comprehended nothing of the\nwhole affair, were seized with a dreadful fright, for dead he was,\nand he remained so. The proper authorities were informed of the\ncircumstance, people talked a good deal about it, and in the morning the\nbody was carried to the hospital.\n\nNow that would be a very pretty joke, if the spirit when it came back\nand looked for the body in East Street, were not to find one. No doubt\nit would, in its anxiety, run off to the police, and then to the\n\u201cHue and Cry\u201d office, to announce that \u201cthe finder will be handsomely\nrewarded,\u201d and at last away to the hospital; yet we may boldly assert\nthat the soul is shrewdest when it shakes off every fetter, and every\nsort of leading-string--the body only makes it stupid.\n\nThe seemingly dead body of the watchman wandered, as we have said, to\nthe hospital, where it was brought into the general viewing-room:\nand the first thing that was done here was naturally to pull off the\ngaloshes--when the spirit, that was merely gone out on adventures, must\nhave returned with the quickness of lightning to its earthly tenement.\nIt took its direction towards the body in a straight line; and a few\nseconds after, life began to show itself in the man. He asserted that\nthe preceding night had been the worst that ever the malice of fate had\nallotted him; he would not for two silver marks again go through what he\nhad endured while moon-stricken; but now, however, it was over.\n\nThe same day he was discharged from the hospital as perfectly cured; but\nthe Shoes meanwhile remained behind.\n\n\nIV. A Moment of Head Importance--An Evening's \u201cDramatic Readings\u201d--A\nMost Strange Journey\n\nEvery inhabitant of Copenhagen knows, from personal inspection, how\nthe entrance to Frederick's Hospital looks; but as it is possible that\nothers, who are not Copenhagen people, may also read this little work,\nwe will beforehand give a short description of it.\n\nThe extensive building is separated from the street by a pretty high\nrailing, the thick iron bars of which are so far apart, that in\nall seriousness, it is said, some very thin fellow had of a night\noccasionally squeezed himself through to go and pay his little visits\nin the town. The part of the body most difficult to manage on such\noccasions was, no doubt, the head; here, as is so often the case in\nthe world, long-headed people get through best. So much, then, for the\nintroduction.\n\nOne of the young men, whose head, in a physical sense only, might be\nsaid to be of the thickest, had the watch that evening. The rain poured\ndown in torrents; yet despite these two obstacles, the young man was\nobliged to go out, if it were but for a quarter of an hour; and as\nto telling the door-keeper about it, that, he thought, was quite\nunnecessary, if, with a whole skin, he were able to slip through the\nrailings. There, on the floor lay the galoshes, which the watchman\nhad forgotten; he never dreamed for a moment that they were those of\nFortune; and they promised to do him good service in the wet; so he put\nthem on. The question now was, if he could squeeze himself through the\ngrating, for he had never tried before. Well, there he stood.\n\n\u201cWould to Heaven I had got my head through!\u201d said he, involuntarily; and\ninstantly through it slipped, easily and without pain, notwithstanding\nit was pretty large and thick. But now the rest of the body was to be\ngot through!\n\n\u201cAh! I am much too stout,\u201d groaned he aloud, while fixed as in a vice.\n\u201cI had thought the head was the most difficult part of the matter--oh!\noh! I really cannot squeeze myself through!\u201d\n\nHe now wanted to pull his over-hasty head back again, but he could not.\nFor his neck there was room enough, but for nothing more. His first\nfeeling was of anger; his next that his temper fell to zero. The\nShoes of Fortune had placed him in the most dreadful situation; and,\nunfortunately, it never occurred to him to wish himself free. The\npitch-black clouds poured down their contents in still heavier torrents;\nnot a creature was to be seen in the streets. To reach up to the bell\nwas what he did not like; to cry aloud for help would have availed him\nlittle; besides, how ashamed would he have been to be found caught in a\ntrap, like an outwitted fox! How was he to twist himself through! He saw\nclearly that it was his irrevocable destiny to remain a prisoner till\ndawn, or, perhaps, even late in the morning; then the smith must be\nfetched to file away the bars; but all that would not be done so quickly\nas he could think about it. The whole Charity School, just opposite,\nwould be in motion; all the new booths, with their not very\ncourtier-like swarm of seamen, would join them out of curiosity, and\nwould greet him with a wild \u201churrah!\u201d while he was standing in his\npillory: there would be a mob, a hissing, and rejoicing, and jeering,\nten times worse than in the rows about the Jews some years ago--\u201cOh, my\nblood is mounting to my brain; 'tis enough to drive one mad! I shall go\nwild! I know not what to do. Oh! were I but loose; my dizziness would\nthen cease; oh, were my head but loose!\u201d\n\nYou see he ought to have said that sooner; for the moment he expressed\nthe wish his head was free; and cured of all his paroxysms of love, he\nhastened off to his room, where the pains consequent on the fright the\nShoes had prepared for him, did not so soon take their leave.\n\nBut you must not think that the affair is over now; it grows much worse.\n\nThe night passed, the next day also; but nobody came to fetch the Shoes.\n\nIn the evening \u201cDramatic Readings\u201d were to be given at the little\ntheatre in King Street. The house was filled to suffocation; and among\nother pieces to be recited was a new poem by H. C. Andersen, called, My\nAunt's Spectacles; the contents of which were pretty nearly as follows:\n\n\u201cA certain person had an aunt, who boasted of particular skill in\nfortune-telling with cards, and who was constantly being stormed by\npersons that wanted to have a peep into futurity. But she was full of\nmystery about her art, in which a certain pair of magic spectacles\ndid her essential service. Her nephew, a merry boy, who was his aunt's\ndarling, begged so long for these spectacles, that, at last, she lent\nhim the treasure, after having informed him, with many exhortations,\nthat in order to execute the interesting trick, he need only repair to\nsome place where a great many persons were assembled; and then, from a\nhigher position, whence he could overlook the crowd, pass the company in\nreview before him through his spectacles. Immediately 'the inner man' of\neach individual would be displayed before him, like a game of cards, in\nwhich he unerringly might read what the future of every person presented\nwas to be. Well pleased the little magician hastened away to prove the\npowers of the spectacles in the theatre; no place seeming to him more\nfitted for such a trial. He begged permission of the worthy audience,\nand set his spectacles on his nose. A motley phantasmagoria presents\nitself before him, which he describes in a few satirical touches, yet\nwithout expressing his opinion openly: he tells the people enough to set\nthem all thinking and guessing; but in order to hurt nobody, he wraps\nhis witty oracular judgments in a transparent veil, or rather in a lurid\nthundercloud, shooting forth bright sparks of wit, that they may fall in\nthe powder-magazine of the expectant audience.\u201d\n\nThe humorous poem was admirably recited, and the speaker much applauded.\nAmong the audience was the young man of the hospital, who seemed to have\nforgotten his adventure of the preceding night. He had on the Shoes; for\nas yet no lawful owner had appeared to claim them; and besides it was so\nvery dirty out-of-doors, they were just the thing for him, he thought.\n\nThe beginning of the poem he praised with great generosity: he even\nfound the idea original and effective. But that the end of it, like the\nRhine, was very insignificant, proved, in his opinion, the author's\nwant of invention; he was without genius, etc. This was an excellent\nopportunity to have said something clever.\n\nMeanwhile he was haunted by the idea--he should like to possess such a\npair of spectacles himself; then, perhaps, by using them circumspectly,\none would be able to look into people's hearts, which, he thought, would\nbe far more interesting than merely to see what was to happen next year;\nfor that we should all know in proper time, but the other never.\n\n\u201cI can now,\u201d said he to himself, \u201cfancy the whole row of ladies and\ngentlemen sitting there in the front row; if one could but see into\ntheir hearts--yes, that would be a revelation--a sort of bazar. In that\nlady yonder, so strangely dressed, I should find for certain a large\nmilliner's shop; in that one the shop is empty, but it wants cleaning\nplain enough. But there would also be some good stately shops among\nthem. Alas!\u201d sighed he, \u201cI know one in which all is stately; but there\nsits already a spruce young shopman, which is the only thing that's\namiss in the whole shop. All would be splendidly decked out, and we\nshould hear, 'Walk in, gentlemen, pray walk in; here you will find all\nyou please to want.' Ah! I wish to Heaven I could walk in and take a\ntrip right through the hearts of those present!\u201d\n\nAnd behold! to the Shoes of Fortune this was the cue; the whole man\nshrunk together and a most uncommon journey through the hearts of the\nfront row of spectators, now began. The first heart through which he\ncame, was that of a middle-aged lady, but he instantly fancied himself\nin the room of the \u201cInstitution for the cure of the crooked and\ndeformed,\u201d where casts of mis-shapen limbs are displayed in naked\nreality on the wall. Yet there was this difference, in the institution\nthe casts were taken at the entry of the patient; but here they were\nretained and guarded in the heart while the sound persons went away.\nThey were, namely, casts of female friends, whose bodily or mental\ndeformities were here most faithfully preserved.\n\nWith the snake-like writhings of an idea he glided into another female\nheart; but this seemed to him like a large holy fane. [*] The white dove of\ninnocence fluttered over the altar. How gladly would he have sunk upon\nhis knees; but he must away to the next heart; yet he still heard the\npealing tones of the organ, and he himself seemed to have become a newer\nand a better man; he felt unworthy to tread the neighboring sanctuary\nwhich a poor garret, with a sick bed-rid mother, revealed. But God's\nwarm sun streamed through the open window; lovely roses nodded from\nthe wooden flower-boxes on the roof, and two sky-blue birds sang\nrejoicingly, while the sick mother implored God's richest blessings on\nher pious daughter.\n\n     * temple\n\n\nHe now crept on hands and feet through a butcher's shop; at least on\nevery side, and above and below, there was nought but flesh. It was the\nheart of a most respectable rich man, whose name is certain to be found\nin the Directory.\n\nHe was now in the heart of the wife of this worthy gentleman. It was an\nold, dilapidated, mouldering dovecot. The husband's portrait was used as\na weather-cock, which was connected in some way or other with the doors,\nand so they opened and shut of their own accord, whenever the stern old\nhusband turned round.\n\nHereupon he wandered into a boudoir formed entirely of mirrors, like\nthe one in Castle Rosenburg; but here the glasses magnified to an\nastonishing degree. On the floor, in the middle of the room, sat, like a\nDalai-Lama, the insignificant \u201cSelf\u201d of the person, quite confounded at\nhis own greatness. He then imagined he had got into a needle-case full\nof pointed needles of every size.\n\n\u201cThis is certainly the heart of an old maid,\u201d thought he. But he was\nmistaken. It was the heart of a young military man; a man, as people\nsaid, of talent and feeling.\n\nIn the greatest perplexity, he now came out of the last heart in the\nrow; he was unable to put his thoughts in order, and fancied that his\ntoo lively imagination had run away with him.\n\n\u201cGood Heavens!\u201d sighed he. \u201cI have surely a disposition to madness--'tis\ndreadfully hot here; my blood boils in my veins and my head is burning\nlike a coal.\u201d And he now remembered the important event of the evening\nbefore, how his head had got jammed in between the iron railings of the\nhospital. \u201cThat's what it is, no doubt,\u201d said he. \u201cI must do something\nin time: under such circumstances a Russian bath might do me good. I\nonly wish I were already on the upper bank.\u201d [*]\n\n     *In these Russian (vapor) baths the person extends himself\n     on a bank or form, and as he gets accustomed to the heat,\n     moves to another higher up towards the ceiling, where, of\n     course, the vapor is warmest. In this manner he ascends\n     gradually to the highest.\n\nAnd so there he lay on the uppermost bank in the vapor-bath; but with\nall his clothes on, in his boots and galoshes, while the hot drops fell\nscalding from the ceiling on his face.\n\n\u201cHolloa!\u201d cried he, leaping down. The bathing attendant, on his side,\nuttered a loud cry of astonishment when he beheld in the bath, a man\ncompletely dressed.\n\nThe other, however, retained sufficient presence of mind to whisper to\nhim, \u201c'Tis a bet, and I have won it!\u201d But the first thing he did as soon\nas he got home, was to have a large blister put on his chest and back to\ndraw out his madness.\n\nThe next morning he had a sore chest and a bleeding back; and, excepting\nthe fright, that was all that he had gained by the Shoes of Fortune.\n\n\nV. Metamorphosis of the Copying-Clerk\n\nThe watchman, whom we have certainly not forgotten, thought meanwhile\nof the galoshes he had found and taken with him to the hospital; he now\nwent to fetch them; and as neither the lieutenant, nor anybody else in\nthe street, claimed them as his property, they were delivered over to\nthe police-office.*\n\n*As on the continent, in all law and police practices nothing is verbal,\nbut any circumstance, however trifling, is reduced to writing, the\nlabor, as well as the number of papers that thus accumulate, is\nenormous. In a police-office, consequently, we find copying-clerks among\nmany other scribes of various denominations, of which, it seems, our\nhero was one.\n\n\n\u201cWhy, I declare the Shoes look just like my own,\u201d said one of the\nclerks, eying the newly-found treasure, whose hidden powers, even he,\nsharp as he was, was not able to discover. \u201cOne must have more than\nthe eye of a shoemaker to know one pair from the other,\u201d said he,\nsoliloquizing; and putting, at the same time, the galoshes in search of\nan owner, beside his own in the corner.\n\n\u201cHere, sir!\u201d said one of the men, who panting brought him a tremendous\npile of papers.\n\nThe copying-clerk turned round and spoke awhile with the man about the\nreports and legal documents in question; but when he had finished, and\nhis eye fell again on the Shoes, he was unable to say whether those to\nthe left or those to the right belonged to him. \u201cAt all events it must\nbe those which are wet,\u201d thought he; but this time, in spite of his\ncleverness, he guessed quite wrong, for it was just those of Fortune\nwhich played as it were into his hands, or rather on his feet. And why,\nI should like to know, are the police never to be wrong? So he put them\non quickly, stuck his papers in his pocket, and took besides a few under\nhis arm, intending to look them through at home to make the necessary\nnotes. It was noon; and the weather, that had threatened rain, began\nto clear up, while gaily dressed holiday folks filled the streets. \u201cA\nlittle trip to Fredericksburg would do me no great harm,\u201d thought he;\n\u201cfor I, poor beast of burden that I am, have so much to annoy me, that I\ndon't know what a good appetite is. 'Tis a bitter crust, alas! at which\nI am condemned to gnaw!\u201d\n\nNobody could be more steady or quiet than this young man; we therefore\nwish him joy of the excursion with all our heart; and it will certainly\nbe beneficial for a person who leads so sedentary a life. In the park\nhe met a friend, one of our young poets, who told him that the following\nday he should set out on his long-intended tour.\n\n\u201cSo you are going away again!\u201d said the clerk. \u201cYou are a very free\nand happy being; we others are chained by the leg and held fast to our\ndesk.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; but it is a chain, friend, which ensures you the blessed bread\nof existence,\u201d answered the poet. \u201cYou need feel no care for the coming\nmorrow: when you are old, you receive a pension.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue,\u201d said the clerk, shrugging his shoulders; \u201cand yet you are\nthe better off. To sit at one's ease and poetise--that is a pleasure;\neverybody has something agreeable to say to you, and you are always your\nown master. No, friend, you should but try what it is to sit from one\nyear's end to the other occupied with and judging the most trivial\nmatters.\u201d\n\nThe poet shook his head, the copying-clerk did the same. Each one kept\nto his own opinion, and so they separated.\n\n\u201cIt's a strange race, those poets!\u201d said the clerk, who was very fond of\nsoliloquizing. \u201cI should like some day, just for a trial, to take such\nnature upon me, and be a poet myself; I am very sure I should make\nno such miserable verses as the others. Today, methinks, is a most\ndelicious day for a poet. Nature seems anew to celebrate her awakening\ninto life. The air is so unusually clear, the clouds sail on so\nbuoyantly, and from the green herbage a fragrance is exhaled that fills\nme with delight. For many a year have I not felt as at this moment.\u201d\n\nWe see already, by the foregoing effusion, that he is become a poet; to\ngive further proof of it, however, would in most cases be insipid, for\nit is a most foolish notion to fancy a poet different from other men.\nAmong the latter there may be far more poetical natures than many an\nacknowledged poet, when examined more closely, could boast of; the\ndifference only is, that the poet possesses a better mental memory, on\nwhich account he is able to retain the feeling and the thought till they\ncan be embodied by means of words; a faculty which the others do not\npossess. But the transition from a commonplace nature to one that is\nrichly endowed, demands always a more or less breakneck leap over a\ncertain abyss which yawns threateningly below; and thus must the sudden\nchange with the clerk strike the reader.\n\n\u201cThe sweet air!\u201d continued he of the police-office, in his dreamy\nimaginings; \u201chow it reminds me of the violets in the garden of my aunt\nMagdalena! Yes, then I was a little wild boy, who did not go to school\nvery regularly. O heavens! 'tis a long time since I have thought on\nthose times. The good old soul! She lived behind the Exchange. She\nalways had a few twigs or green shoots in water--let the winter rage\nwithout as it might. The violets exhaled their sweet breath, whilst I\npressed against the windowpanes covered with fantastic frost-work the\ncopper coin I had heated on the stove, and so made peep-holes.\nWhat splendid vistas were then opened to my view! What change--what\nmagnificence! Yonder in the canal lay the ships frozen up, and deserted\nby their whole crews, with a screaming crow for the sole occupant. But\nwhen the spring, with a gentle stirring motion, announced her arrival,\na new and busy life arose; with songs and hurrahs the ice was sawn\nasunder, the ships were fresh tarred and rigged, that they might sail\naway to distant lands. But I have remained here--must always remain\nhere, sitting at my desk in the office, and patiently see other people\nfetch their passports to go abroad. Such is my fate! Alas!\u201d--sighed he,\nand was again silent. \u201cGreat Heaven! What is come to me! Never have I\nthought or felt like this before! It must be the summer air that affects\nme with feelings almost as disquieting as they are refreshing.\u201d\n\nHe felt in his pocket for the papers. \u201cThese police-reports will soon\nstem the torrent of my ideas, and effectually hinder any rebellious\noverflowing of the time-worn banks of official duties\u201d; he said to\nhimself consolingly, while his eye ran over the first page. \u201cDAME\nTIGBRITH, tragedy in five acts.\u201d \u201cWhat is that? And yet it is undeniably\nmy own handwriting. Have I written the tragedy? Wonderful, very\nwonderful!--And this--what have I here? 'INTRIGUE ON THE RAMPARTS; or\nTHE DAY OF REPENTANCE: vaudeville with new songs to the most favorite\nairs.' The deuce! Where did I get all this rubbish? Some one must have\nslipped it slyly into my pocket for a joke. There is too a letter to me;\na crumpled letter and the seal broken.\u201d\n\nYes; it was not a very polite epistle from the manager of a theatre, in\nwhich both pieces were flatly refused.\n\n\u201cHem! hem!\u201d said the clerk breathlessly, and quite exhausted he seated\nhimself on a bank. His thoughts were so elastic, his heart so tender;\nand involuntarily he picked one of the nearest flowers. It is a simple\ndaisy, just bursting out of the bud. What the botanist tells us after\na number of imperfect lectures, the flower proclaimed in a minute. It\nrelated the mythus of its birth, told of the power of the sun-light that\nspread out its delicate leaves, and forced them to impregnate the air\nwith their incense--and then he thought of the manifold struggles of\nlife, which in like manner awaken the budding flowers of feeling in our\nbosom. Light and air contend with chivalric emulation for the love of\nthe fair flower that bestowed her chief favors on the latter; full of\nlonging she turned towards the light, and as soon as it vanished, rolled\nher tender leaves together and slept in the embraces of the air. \u201cIt is\nthe light which adorns me,\u201d said the flower.\n\n\u201cBut 'tis the air which enables thee to breathe,\u201d said the poet's voice.\n\nClose by stood a boy who dashed his stick into a wet ditch. The drops of\nwater splashed up to the green leafy roof, and the clerk thought of the\nmillion of ephemera which in a single drop were thrown up to a height,\nthat was as great doubtless for their size, as for us if we were to\nbe hurled above the clouds. While he thought of this and of the whole\nmetamorphosis he had undergone, he smiled and said, \u201cI sleep and dream;\nbut it is wonderful how one can dream so naturally, and know besides so\nexactly that it is but a dream. If only to-morrow on awaking, I could\nagain call all to mind so vividly! I seem in unusually good spirits; my\nperception of things is clear, I feel as light and cheerful as though\nI were in heaven; but I know for a certainty, that if to-morrow a dim\nremembrance of it should swim before my mind, it will then seem nothing\nbut stupid nonsense, as I have often experienced already--especially\nbefore I enlisted under the banner of the police, for that dispels like\na whirlwind all the visions of an unfettered imagination. All we hear\nor say in a dream that is fair and beautiful is like the gold of the\nsubterranean spirits; it is rich and splendid when it is given us, but\nviewed by daylight we find only withered leaves. Alas!\u201d he sighed quite\nsorrowful, and gazed at the chirping birds that hopped contentedly from\nbranch to branch, \u201cthey are much better off than I! To fly must be a\nheavenly art; and happy do I prize that creature in which it is innate.\nYes! Could I exchange my nature with any other creature, I fain would be\nsuch a happy little lark!\u201d\n\nHe had hardly uttered these hasty words when the skirts and sleeves\nof his coat folded themselves together into wings; the clothes became\nfeathers, and the galoshes claws. He observed it perfectly, and laughed\nin his heart. \u201cNow then, there is no doubt that I am dreaming; but I\nnever before was aware of such mad freaks as these.\u201d And up he flew into\nthe green roof and sang; but in the song there was no poetry, for the\nspirit of the poet was gone. The Shoes, as is the case with anybody who\ndoes what he has to do properly, could only attend to one thing at a\ntime. He wanted to be a poet, and he was one; he now wished to be a\nmerry chirping bird: but when he was metamorphosed into one, the former\npeculiarities ceased immediately. \u201cIt is really pleasant enough,\u201d said\nhe: \u201cthe whole day long I sit in the office amid the driest\nlaw-papers, and at night I fly in my dream as a lark in the gardens of\nFredericksburg; one might really write a very pretty comedy upon it.\u201d He\nnow fluttered down into the grass, turned his head gracefully on every\nside, and with his bill pecked the pliant blades of grass, which, in\ncomparison to his present size, seemed as majestic as the palm-branches\nof northern Africa.\n\nUnfortunately the pleasure lasted but a moment. Presently black night\novershadowed our enthusiast, who had so entirely missed his part of\ncopying-clerk at a police-office; some vast object seemed to be thrown\nover him. It was a large oil-skin cap, which a sailor-boy of the quay\nhad thrown over the struggling bird; a coarse hand sought its way\ncarefully in under the broad rim, and seized the clerk over the back\nand wings. In the first moment of fear, he called, indeed, as loud as\nhe could--\u201cYou impudent little blackguard! I am a copying-clerk at\nthe police-office; and you know you cannot insult any belonging to the\nconstabulary force without a chastisement. Besides, you good-for-nothing\nrascal, it is strictly forbidden to catch birds in the royal gardens of\nFredericksburg; but your blue uniform betrays where you come from.\u201d\n This fine tirade sounded, however, to the ungodly sailor-boy like a mere\n\u201cPippi-pi.\u201d He gave the noisy bird a knock on his beak, and walked on.\n\nHe was soon met by two schoolboys of the upper class--that is to say as\nindividuals, for with regard to learning they were in the lowest class\nin the school; and they bought the stupid bird. So the copying-clerk\ncame to Copenhagen as guest, or rather as prisoner in a family living in\nGother Street.\n\n\u201c'Tis well that I'm dreaming,\u201d said the clerk, \u201cor I really should get\nangry. First I was a poet; now sold for a few pence as a lark; no doubt\nit was that accursed poetical nature which has metamorphosed me\ninto such a poor harmless little creature. It is really pitiable,\nparticularly when one gets into the hands of a little blackguard,\nperfect in all sorts of cruelty to animals: all I should like to know\nis, how the story will end.\u201d\n\nThe two schoolboys, the proprietors now of the transformed clerk,\ncarried him into an elegant room. A stout stately dame received them\nwith a smile; but she expressed much dissatisfaction that a common\nfield-bird, as she called the lark, should appear in such high society.\nFor to-day, however, she would allow it; and they must shut him in the\nempty cage that was standing in the window. \u201cPerhaps he will amuse my\ngood Polly,\u201d added the lady, looking with a benignant smile at a large\ngreen parrot that swung himself backwards and forwards most comfortably\nin his ring, inside a magnificent brass-wired cage. \u201cTo-day is Polly's\nbirthday,\u201d said she with stupid simplicity: \u201cand the little brown\nfield-bird must wish him joy.\u201d\n\nMr. Polly uttered not a syllable in reply, but swung to and fro with\ndignified condescension; while a pretty canary, as yellow as gold, that\nhad lately been brought from his sunny fragrant home, began to sing\naloud.\n\n\u201cNoisy creature! Will you be quiet!\u201d screamed the lady of the house,\ncovering the cage with an embroidered white pocket handkerchief.\n\n\u201cChirp, chirp!\u201d sighed he. \u201cThat was a dreadful snowstorm\u201d; and he\nsighed again, and was silent.\n\nThe copying-clerk, or, as the lady said, the brown field-bird, was\nput into a small cage, close to the Canary, and not far from \u201cmy good\nPolly.\u201d The only human sounds that the Parrot could bawl out\nwere, \u201cCome, let us be men!\u201d Everything else that he said was as\nunintelligible to everybody as the chirping of the Canary, except to the\nclerk, who was now a bird too: he understood his companion perfectly.\n\n\u201cI flew about beneath the green palms and the blossoming almond-trees,\u201d\n sang the Canary; \u201cI flew around, with my brothers and sisters, over\nthe beautiful flowers, and over the glassy lakes, where the bright\nwater-plants nodded to me from below. There, too, I saw many\nsplendidly-dressed paroquets, that told the drollest stories, and the\nwildest fairy tales without end.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! those were uncouth birds,\u201d answered the Parrot. \u201cThey had no\neducation, and talked of whatever came into their head.\n\n\u201cIf my mistress and all her friends can laugh at what I say, so may you\ntoo, I should think. It is a great fault to have no taste for what is\nwitty or amusing--come, let us be men.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, you have no remembrance of love for the charming maidens that\ndanced beneath the outspread tents beside the bright fragrant flowers?\nDo you no longer remember the sweet fruits, and the cooling juice in\nthe wild plants of our never-to-be-forgotten home?\u201d said the former\ninhabitant of the Canary Isles, continuing his dithyrambic.\n\n\u201cOh, yes,\u201d said the Parrot; \u201cbut I am far better off here. I am well\nfed, and get friendly treatment. I know I am a clever fellow; and that\nis all I care about. Come, let us be men. You are of a poetical nature,\nas it is called--I, on the contrary, possess profound knowledge and\ninexhaustible wit. You have genius; but clear-sighted, calm discretion\ndoes not take such lofty flights, and utter such high natural tones.\nFor this they have covered you over--they never do the like to me; for\nI cost more. Besides, they are afraid of my beak; and I have always a\nwitty answer at hand. Come, let us be men!\u201d\n\n\u201cO warm spicy land of my birth,\u201d sang the Canary bird; \u201cI will sing of\nthy dark-green bowers, of the calm bays where the pendent boughs\nkiss the surface of the water; I will sing of the rejoicing of all my\nbrothers and sisters where the cactus grows in wanton luxuriance.\u201d\n\n\u201cSpare us your elegiac tones,\u201d said the Parrot giggling. \u201cRather speak\nof something at which one may laugh heartily. Laughing is an infallible\nsign of the highest degree of mental development. Can a dog, or a horse\nlaugh? No, but they can cry. The gift of laughing was given to man\nalone. Ha! ha! ha!\u201d screamed Polly, and added his stereotype witticism.\n\u201cCome, let us be men!\u201d\n\n\u201cPoor little Danish grey-bird,\u201d said the Canary; \u201cyou have been caught\ntoo. It is, no doubt, cold enough in your woods, but there at least\nis the breath of liberty; therefore fly away. In the hurry they have\nforgotten to shut your cage, and the upper window is open. Fly, my\nfriend; fly away. Farewell!\u201d\n\nInstinctively the Clerk obeyed; with a few strokes of his wings he was\nout of the cage; but at the same moment the door, which was only ajar,\nand which led to the next room, began to creak, and supple and creeping\ncame the large tomcat into the room, and began to pursue him. The\nfrightened Canary fluttered about in his cage; the Parrot flapped his\nwings, and cried, \u201cCome, let us be men!\u201d The Clerk felt a mortal fright,\nand flew through the window, far away over the houses and streets. At\nlast he was forced to rest a little.\n\nThe neighboring house had a something familiar about it; a window stood\nopen; he flew in; it was his own room. He perched upon the table.\n\n\u201cCome, let us be men!\u201d said he, involuntarily imitating the chatter of\nthe Parrot, and at the same moment he was again a copying-clerk; but he\nwas sitting in the middle of the table.\n\n\u201cHeaven help me!\u201d cried he. \u201cHow did I get up here--and so buried in\nsleep, too? After all, that was a very unpleasant, disagreeable dream\nthat haunted me! The whole story is nothing but silly, stupid nonsense!\u201d\n\n\nVI. The Best That the Galoshes Gave\n\nThe following day, early in the morning, while the Clerk was still in\nbed, someone knocked at his door. It was his neighbor, a young Divine,\nwho lived on the same floor. He walked in.\n\n\u201cLend me your Galoshes,\u201d said he; \u201cit is so wet in the garden, though\nthe sun is shining most invitingly. I should like to go out a little.\u201d\n\nHe got the Galoshes, and he was soon below in a little duodecimo garden,\nwhere between two immense walls a plumtree and an apple-tree were\nstanding. Even such a little garden as this was considered in the\nmetropolis of Copenhagen as a great luxury.\n\nThe young man wandered up and down the narrow paths, as well as the\nprescribed limits would allow; the clock struck six; without was heard\nthe horn of a post-boy.\n\n\u201cTo travel! to travel!\u201d exclaimed he, overcome by most painful and\npassionate remembrances. \u201cThat is the happiest thing in the world! That\nis the highest aim of all my wishes! Then at last would the agonizing\nrestlessness be allayed, which destroys my existence! But it must be\nfar, far away! I would behold magnificent Switzerland; I would travel to\nItaly, and--\u201d\n\nIt was a good thing that the power of the Galoshes worked as\ninstantaneously as lightning in a powder-magazine would do, otherwise\nthe poor man with his overstrained wishes would have travelled about\nthe world too much for himself as well as for us. In short, he was\ntravelling. He was in the middle of Switzerland, but packed up with\neight other passengers in the inside of an eternally-creaking diligence;\nhis head ached till it almost split, his weary neck could hardly bear\nthe heavy load, and his feet, pinched by his torturing boots, were\nterribly swollen. He was in an intermediate state between sleeping and\nwaking; at variance with himself, with his company, with the country,\nand with the government. In his right pocket he had his letter of\ncredit, in the left, his passport, and in a small leathern purse some\ndouble louis d'or, carefully sewn up in the bosom of his waistcoat.\nEvery dream proclaimed that one or the other of these valuables was\nlost; wherefore he started up as in a fever; and the first movement\nwhich his hand made, described a magic triangle from the right pocket to\nthe left, and then up towards the bosom, to feel if he had them all safe\nor not. From the roof inside the carriage, umbrellas, walking-sticks,\nhats, and sundry other articles were depending, and hindered the view,\nwhich was particularly imposing. He now endeavored as well as he\nwas able to dispel his gloom, which was caused by outward chance\ncircumstances merely, and on the bosom of nature imbibe the milk of\npurest human enjoyment.\n\nGrand, solemn, and dark was the whole landscape around. The gigantic\npine-forests, on the pointed crags, seemed almost like little tufts of\nheather, colored by the surrounding clouds. It began to snow, a cold\nwind blew and roared as though it were seeking a bride.\n\n\u201cAugh!\u201d sighed he, \u201cwere we only on the other side the Alps, then we\nshould have summer, and I could get my letters of credit cashed. The\nanxiety I feel about them prevents me enjoying Switzerland. Were I but\non the other side!\u201d\n\nAnd so saying he was on the other side in Italy, between Florence and\nRome. Lake Thracymene, illumined by the evening sun, lay like flaming\ngold between the dark-blue mountain-ridges; here, where Hannibal\ndefeated Flaminius, the rivers now held each other in their green\nembraces; lovely, half-naked children tended a herd of black swine,\nbeneath a group of fragrant laurel-trees, hard by the road-side.\nCould we render this inimitable picture properly, then would everybody\nexclaim, \u201cBeautiful, unparalleled Italy!\u201d But neither the young Divine\nsaid so, nor anyone of his grumbling companions in the coach of the\nvetturino.\n\nThe poisonous flies and gnats swarmed around by thousands; in vain one\nwaved myrtle-branches about like mad; the audacious insect population\ndid not cease to sting; nor was there a single person in the\nwell-crammed carriage whose face was not swollen and sore from their\nravenous bites. The poor horses, tortured almost to death, suffered most\nfrom this truly Egyptian plague; the flies alighted upon them in large\ndisgusting swarms; and if the coachman got down and scraped them off,\nhardly a minute elapsed before they were there again. The sun now set: a\nfreezing cold, though of short duration pervaded the whole creation;\nit was like a horrid gust coming from a burial-vault on a warm summer's\nday--but all around the mountains retained that wonderful green tone\nwhich we see in some old pictures, and which, should we not have seen a\nsimilar play of color in the South, we declare at once to be unnatural.\nIt was a glorious prospect; but the stomach was empty, the body tired;\nall that the heart cared and longed for was good night-quarters; yet\nhow would they be? For these one looked much more anxiously than for the\ncharms of nature, which every where were so profusely displayed.\n\nThe road led through an olive-grove, and here the solitary inn was\nsituated. Ten or twelve crippled-beggars had encamped outside. The\nhealthiest of them resembled, to use an expression of Marryat's,\n\u201cHunger's eldest son when he had come of age\u201d; the others were either\nblind, had withered legs and crept about on their hands, or withered\narms and fingerless hands. It was the most wretched misery, dragged\nfrom among the filthiest rags. \u201cExcellenza, miserabili!\u201d sighed they,\nthrusting forth their deformed limbs to view. Even the hostess, with\nbare feet, uncombed hair, and dressed in a garment of doubtful color,\nreceived the guests grumblingly. The doors were fastened with a loop of\nstring; the floor of the rooms presented a stone paving half torn\nup; bats fluttered wildly about the ceiling; and as to the smell\ntherein--no--that was beyond description.\n\n\u201cYou had better lay the cloth below in the stable,\u201d said one of the\ntravellers; \u201cthere, at all events, one knows what one is breathing.\u201d\n\nThe windows were quickly opened, to let in a little fresh air. Quicker,\nhowever, than the breeze, the withered, sallow arms of the beggars were\nthrust in, accompanied by the eternal whine of \u201cMiserabili, miserabili,\nexcellenza!\u201d On the walls were displayed innumerable inscriptions,\nwritten in nearly every language of Europe, some in verse, some in\nprose, most of them not very laudatory of \u201cbella Italia.\u201d\n\nThe meal was served. It consisted of a soup of salted water, seasoned\nwith pepper and rancid oil. The last ingredient played a very prominent\npart in the salad; stale eggs and roasted cocks'-combs furnished the\ngrand dish of the repast; the wine even was not without a disgusting\ntaste--it was like a medicinal draught.\n\nAt night the boxes and other effects of the passengers were placed\nagainst the rickety doors. One of the travellers kept watch while the\nothers slept. The sentry was our young Divine. How close it was in the\nchamber! The heat oppressive to suffocation--the gnats hummed and stung\nunceasingly--the \u201cmiserabili\u201d without whined and moaned in their sleep.\n\n\u201cTravelling would be agreeable enough,\u201d said he groaning, \u201cif one only\nhad no body, or could send it to rest while the spirit went on its\npilgrimage unhindered, whither the voice within might call it. Wherever\nI go, I am pursued by a longing that is insatiable--that I cannot\nexplain to myself, and that tears my very heart. I want something better\nthan what is but what is fled in an instant. But what is it, and where\nis it to be found? Yet, I know in reality what it is I wish for. Oh!\nmost happy were I, could I but reach one aim--could but reach the\nhappiest of all!\u201d\n\nAnd as he spoke the word he was again in his home; the long white\ncurtains hung down from the windows, and in the middle of the floor\nstood the black coffin; in it he lay in the sleep of death. His wish\nwas fulfilled--the body rested, while the spirit went unhindered on its\npilgrimage. \u201cLet no one deem himself happy before his end,\u201d were the\nwords of Solon; and here was a new and brilliant proof of the wisdom of\nthe old apothegm.\n\nEvery corpse is a sphynx of immortality; here too on the black coffin\nthe sphynx gave us no answer to what he who lay within had written two\ndays before:\n\n     \u201cO mighty Death! thy silence teaches nought,\n       Thou leadest only to the near grave's brink;\n      Is broken now the ladder of my thoughts?\n     Do I instead of mounting only sink?\n\n     Our heaviest grief the world oft seeth not,\n      Our sorest pain we hide from stranger eyes:\n      And for the sufferer there is nothing left\n     But the green mound that o'er the coffin lies.\u201d\n\nTwo figures were moving in the chamber. We knew them both; it was the\nfairy of Care, and the emissary of Fortune. They both bent over the\ncorpse.\n\n\u201cDo you now see,\u201d said Care, \u201cwhat happiness your Galoshes have brought\nto mankind?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo him, at least, who slumbers here, they have brought an imperishable\nblessing,\u201d answered the other.\n\n\u201cAh no!\u201d replied Care. \u201cHe took his departure himself; he was not called\naway. His mental powers here below were not strong enough to reach the\ntreasures lying beyond this life, and which his destiny ordained he\nshould obtain. I will now confer a benefit on him.\u201d\n\nAnd she took the Galoshes from his feet; his sleep of death was ended;\nand he who had been thus called back again to life arose from his\ndread couch in all the vigor of youth. Care vanished, and with her the\nGaloshes. She has no doubt taken them for herself, to keep them to all\neternity.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIR TREE\n\nOut in the woods stood a nice little Fir Tree. The place he had was a\nvery good one: the sun shone on him: as to fresh air, there was enough\nof that, and round him grew many large-sized comrades, pines as well as\nfirs. But the little Fir wanted so very much to be a grown-up tree.\n\nHe did not think of the warm sun and of the fresh air; he did not care\nfor the little cottage children that ran about and prattled when they\nwere in the woods looking for wild-strawberries. The children often came\nwith a whole pitcher full of berries, or a long row of them threaded on\na straw, and sat down near the young tree and said, \u201cOh, how pretty he\nis! What a nice little fir!\u201d But this was what the Tree could not bear\nto hear.\n\nAt the end of a year he had shot up a good deal, and after another year\nhe was another long bit taller; for with fir trees one can always tell\nby the shoots how many years old they are.\n\n\u201cOh! Were I but such a high tree as the others are,\u201d sighed he. \u201cThen I\nshould be able to spread out my branches, and with the tops to look into\nthe wide world! Then would the birds build nests among my branches: and\nwhen there was a breeze, I could bend with as much stateliness as the\nothers!\u201d\n\nNeither the sunbeams, nor the birds, nor the red clouds which morning\nand evening sailed above him, gave the little Tree any pleasure.\n\nIn winter, when the snow lay glittering on the ground, a hare would\noften come leaping along, and jump right over the little Tree. Oh, that\nmade him so angry! But two winters were past, and in the third the Tree\nwas so large that the hare was obliged to go round it. \u201cTo grow and\ngrow, to get older and be tall,\u201d thought the Tree--\u201cthat, after all, is\nthe most delightful thing in the world!\u201d\n\nIn autumn the wood-cutters always came and felled some of the largest\ntrees. This happened every year; and the young Fir Tree, that had now\ngrown to a very comely size, trembled at the sight; for the magnificent\ngreat trees fell to the earth with noise and cracking, the branches were\nlopped off, and the trees looked long and bare; they were hardly to be\nrecognised; and then they were laid in carts, and the horses dragged\nthem out of the wood.\n\nWhere did they go to? What became of them?\n\nIn spring, when the swallows and the storks came, the Tree asked them,\n\u201cDon't you know where they have been taken? Have you not met them\nanywhere?\u201d\n\nThe swallows did not know anything about it; but the Stork looked\nmusing, nodded his head, and said, \u201cYes; I think I know; I met many\nships as I was flying hither from Egypt; on the ships were magnificent\nmasts, and I venture to assert that it was they that smelt so of fir.\nI may congratulate you, for they lifted themselves on high most\nmajestically!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, were I but old enough to fly across the sea! But how does the sea\nlook in reality? What is it like?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat would take a long time to explain,\u201d said the Stork, and with these\nwords off he went.\n\n\u201cRejoice in thy growth!\u201d said the Sunbeams. \u201cRejoice in thy vigorous\ngrowth, and in the fresh life that moveth within thee!\u201d\n\nAnd the Wind kissed the Tree, and the Dew wept tears over him; but the\nFir understood it not.\n\nWhen Christmas came, quite young trees were cut down: trees which often\nwere not even as large or of the same age as this Fir Tree, who could\nnever rest, but always wanted to be off. These young trees, and they\nwere always the finest looking, retained their branches; they were laid\non carts, and the horses drew them out of the wood.\n\n\u201cWhere are they going to?\u201d asked the Fir. \u201cThey are not taller than\nI; there was one indeed that was considerably shorter; and why do they\nretain all their branches? Whither are they taken?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe know! We know!\u201d chirped the Sparrows. \u201cWe have peeped in at the\nwindows in the town below! We know whither they are taken! The greatest\nsplendor and the greatest magnificence one can imagine await them. We\npeeped through the windows, and saw them planted in the middle of the\nwarm room and ornamented with the most splendid things, with gilded\napples, with gingerbread, with toys, and many hundred lights!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd then?\u201d asked the Fir Tree, trembling in every bough. \u201cAnd then?\nWhat happens then?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe did not see anything more: it was incomparably beautiful.\u201d\n\n\u201cI would fain know if I am destined for so glorious a career,\u201d cried\nthe Tree, rejoicing. \u201cThat is still better than to cross the sea! What\na longing do I suffer! Were Christmas but come! I am now tall, and my\nbranches spread like the others that were carried off last year! Oh!\nwere I but already on the cart! Were I in the warm room with all the\nsplendor and magnificence! Yes; then something better, something still\ngrander, will surely follow, or wherefore should they thus ornament me?\nSomething better, something still grander must follow--but what? Oh, how\nI long, how I suffer! I do not know myself what is the matter with me!\u201d\n\n\u201cRejoice in our presence!\u201d said the Air and the Sunlight. \u201cRejoice in\nthy own fresh youth!\u201d\n\nBut the Tree did not rejoice at all; he grew and grew, and was green\nboth winter and summer. People that saw him said, \u201cWhat a fine tree!\u201d\n and towards Christmas he was one of the first that was cut down. The axe\nstruck deep into the very pith; the Tree fell to the earth with a sigh;\nhe felt a pang--it was like a swoon; he could not think of happiness,\nfor he was sorrowful at being separated from his home, from the place\nwhere he had sprung up. He well knew that he should never see his dear\nold comrades, the little bushes and flowers around him, anymore; perhaps\nnot even the birds! The departure was not at all agreeable.\n\nThe Tree only came to himself when he was unloaded in a court-yard with\nthe other trees, and heard a man say, \u201cThat one is splendid! We don't\nwant the others.\u201d Then two servants came in rich livery and carried the\nFir Tree into a large and splendid drawing-room. Portraits were hanging\non the walls, and near the white porcelain stove stood two large Chinese\nvases with lions on the covers. There, too, were large easy-chairs,\nsilken sofas, large tables full of picture-books and full of toys, worth\nhundreds and hundreds of crowns--at least the children said so. And the\nFir Tree was stuck upright in a cask that was filled with sand; but no\none could see that it was a cask, for green cloth was hung all round it,\nand it stood on a large gaily-colored carpet. Oh! how the Tree quivered!\nWhat was to happen? The servants, as well as the young ladies, decorated\nit. On one branch there hung little nets cut out of colored paper, and\neach net was filled with sugarplums; and among the other boughs gilded\napples and walnuts were suspended, looking as though they had grown\nthere, and little blue and white tapers were placed among the leaves.\nDolls that looked for all the world like men--the Tree had never beheld\nsuch before--were seen among the foliage, and at the very top a\nlarge star of gold tinsel was fixed. It was really splendid--beyond\ndescription splendid.\n\n\u201cThis evening!\u201d they all said. \u201cHow it will shine this evening!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d thought the Tree. \u201cIf the evening were but come! If the tapers\nwere but lighted! And then I wonder what will happen! Perhaps the other\ntrees from the forest will come to look at me! Perhaps the sparrows will\nbeat against the windowpanes! I wonder if I shall take root here, and\nwinter and summer stand covered with ornaments!\u201d\n\nHe knew very much about the matter--but he was so impatient that for\nsheer longing he got a pain in his back, and this with trees is the same\nthing as a headache with us.\n\nThe candles were now lighted--what brightness! What splendor! The\nTree trembled so in every bough that one of the tapers set fire to the\nfoliage. It blazed up famously.\n\n\u201cHelp! Help!\u201d cried the young ladies, and they quickly put out the fire.\n\nNow the Tree did not even dare tremble. What a state he was in! He was\nso uneasy lest he should lose something of his splendor, that he was\nquite bewildered amidst the glare and brightness; when suddenly both\nfolding-doors opened and a troop of children rushed in as if they would\nupset the Tree. The older persons followed quietly; the little ones\nstood quite still. But it was only for a moment; then they shouted that\nthe whole place re-echoed with their rejoicing; they danced round the\nTree, and one present after the other was pulled off.\n\n\u201cWhat are they about?\u201d thought the Tree. \u201cWhat is to happen now!\u201d And\nthe lights burned down to the very branches, and as they burned down\nthey were put out one after the other, and then the children had\npermission to plunder the Tree. So they fell upon it with such violence\nthat all its branches cracked; if it had not been fixed firmly in the\nground, it would certainly have tumbled down.\n\nThe children danced about with their beautiful playthings; no one looked\nat the Tree except the old nurse, who peeped between the branches; but\nit was only to see if there was a fig or an apple left that had been\nforgotten.\n\n\u201cA story! A story!\u201d cried the children, drawing a little fat man towards\nthe Tree. He seated himself under it and said, \u201cNow we are in the shade,\nand the Tree can listen too. But I shall tell only one story. Now which\nwill you have; that about Ivedy-Avedy, or about Humpy-Dumpy, who\ntumbled downstairs, and yet after all came to the throne and married the\nprincess?\u201d\n\n\u201cIvedy-Avedy,\u201d cried some; \u201cHumpy-Dumpy,\u201d cried the others. There was\nsuch a bawling and screaming--the Fir Tree alone was silent, and he\nthought to himself, \u201cAm I not to bawl with the rest? Am I to do nothing\nwhatever?\u201d for he was one of the company, and had done what he had to\ndo.\n\nAnd the man told about Humpy-Dumpy that tumbled down, who\nnotwithstanding came to the throne, and at last married the princess.\nAnd the children clapped their hands, and cried. \u201cOh, go on! Do go on!\u201d\n They wanted to hear about Ivedy-Avedy too, but the little man only told\nthem about Humpy-Dumpy. The Fir Tree stood quite still and absorbed\nin thought; the birds in the wood had never related the like of this.\n\u201cHumpy-Dumpy fell downstairs, and yet he married the princess! Yes, yes!\nThat's the way of the world!\u201d thought the Fir Tree, and believed it all,\nbecause the man who told the story was so good-looking. \u201cWell, well! who\nknows, perhaps I may fall downstairs, too, and get a princess as wife!\u201d\n And he looked forward with joy to the morrow, when he hoped to be decked\nout again with lights, playthings, fruits, and tinsel.\n\n\u201cI won't tremble to-morrow!\u201d thought the Fir Tree. \u201cI will enjoy to\nthe full all my splendor! To-morrow I shall hear again the story of\nHumpy-Dumpy, and perhaps that of Ivedy-Avedy too.\u201d And the whole night\nthe Tree stood still and in deep thought.\n\nIn the morning the servant and the housemaid came in.\n\n\u201cNow then the splendor will begin again,\u201d thought the Fir. But they\ndragged him out of the room, and up the stairs into the loft: and here,\nin a dark corner, where no daylight could enter, they left him. \u201cWhat's\nthe meaning of this?\u201d thought the Tree. \u201cWhat am I to do here? What\nshall I hear now, I wonder?\u201d And he leaned against the wall lost in\nreverie. Time enough had he too for his reflections; for days and nights\npassed on, and nobody came up; and when at last somebody did come, it\nwas only to put some great trunks in a corner, out of the way. There\nstood the Tree quite hidden; it seemed as if he had been entirely\nforgotten.\n\n\u201c'Tis now winter out-of-doors!\u201d thought the Tree. \u201cThe earth is hard and\ncovered with snow; men cannot plant me now, and therefore I have been\nput up here under shelter till the spring-time comes! How thoughtful\nthat is! How kind man is, after all! If it only were not so dark here,\nand so terribly lonely! Not even a hare! And out in the woods it was\nso pleasant, when the snow was on the ground, and the hare leaped by;\nyes--even when he jumped over me; but I did not like it then! It is\nreally terribly lonely here!\u201d\n\n\u201cSqueak! Squeak!\u201d said a little Mouse, at the same moment, peeping out\nof his hole. And then another little one came. They snuffed about the\nFir Tree, and rustled among the branches.\n\n\u201cIt is dreadfully cold,\u201d said the Mouse. \u201cBut for that, it would be\ndelightful here, old Fir, wouldn't it?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am by no means old,\u201d said the Fir Tree. \u201cThere's many a one\nconsiderably older than I am.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere do you come from,\u201d asked the Mice; \u201cand what can you do?\u201d They\nwere so extremely curious. \u201cTell us about the most beautiful spot on the\nearth. Have you never been there? Were you never in the larder, where\ncheeses lie on the shelves, and hams hang from above; where one dances\nabout on tallow candles: that place where one enters lean, and comes out\nagain fat and portly?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know no such place,\u201d said the Tree. \u201cBut I know the wood, where the\nsun shines and where the little birds sing.\u201d And then he told all about\nhis youth; and the little Mice had never heard the like before; and they\nlistened and said,\n\n\u201cWell, to be sure! How much you have seen! How happy you must have\nbeen!\u201d\n\n\u201cI!\u201d said the Fir Tree, thinking over what he had himself related.\n\u201cYes, in reality those were happy times.\u201d And then he told about\nChristmas-eve, when he was decked out with cakes and candles.\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d said the little Mice, \u201chow fortunate you have been, old Fir Tree!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am by no means old,\u201d said he. \u201cI came from the wood this winter; I am\nin my prime, and am only rather short for my age.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat delightful stories you know,\u201d said the Mice: and the next night\nthey came with four other little Mice, who were to hear what the Tree\nrecounted: and the more he related, the more he remembered himself; and\nit appeared as if those times had really been happy times. \u201cBut they may\nstill come--they may still come! Humpy-Dumpy fell downstairs, and yet\nhe got a princess!\u201d and he thought at the moment of a nice little Birch\nTree growing out in the woods: to the Fir, that would be a real charming\nprincess.\n\n\u201cWho is Humpy-Dumpy?\u201d asked the Mice. So then the Fir Tree told the\nwhole fairy tale, for he could remember every single word of it; and the\nlittle Mice jumped for joy up to the very top of the Tree. Next night\ntwo more Mice came, and on Sunday two Rats even; but they said the\nstories were not interesting, which vexed the little Mice; and they,\ntoo, now began to think them not so very amusing either.\n\n\u201cDo you know only one story?\u201d asked the Rats.\n\n\u201cOnly that one,\u201d answered the Tree. \u201cI heard it on my happiest evening;\nbut I did not then know how happy I was.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is a very stupid story! Don't you know one about bacon and tallow\ncandles? Can't you tell any larder stories?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said the Tree.\n\n\u201cThen good-bye,\u201d said the Rats; and they went home.\n\nAt last the little Mice stayed away also; and the Tree sighed: \u201cAfter\nall, it was very pleasant when the sleek little Mice sat round me, and\nlistened to what I told them. Now that too is over. But I will take good\ncare to enjoy myself when I am brought out again.\u201d\n\nBut when was that to be? Why, one morning there came a quantity of\npeople and set to work in the loft. The trunks were moved, the tree was\npulled out and thrown--rather hard, it is true--down on the floor, but a\nman drew him towards the stairs, where the daylight shone.\n\n\u201cNow a merry life will begin again,\u201d thought the Tree. He felt the fresh\nair, the first sunbeam--and now he was out in the courtyard. All passed\nso quickly, there was so much going on around him, the Tree quite forgot\nto look to himself. The court adjoined a garden, and all was in flower;\nthe roses hung so fresh and odorous over the balustrade, the lindens\nwere in blossom, the Swallows flew by, and said, \u201cQuirre-vit! My husband\nis come!\u201d but it was not the Fir Tree that they meant.\n\n\u201cNow, then, I shall really enjoy life,\u201d said he exultingly, and spread\nout his branches; but, alas, they were all withered and yellow! It was\nin a corner that he lay, among weeds and nettles. The golden star of\ntinsel was still on the top of the Tree, and glittered in the sunshine.\n\nIn the court-yard some of the merry children were playing who had danced\nat Christmas round the Fir Tree, and were so glad at the sight of him.\nOne of the youngest ran and tore off the golden star.\n\n\u201cOnly look what is still on the ugly old Christmas tree!\u201d said he,\ntrampling on the branches, so that they all cracked beneath his feet.\n\nAnd the Tree beheld all the beauty of the flowers, and the freshness in\nthe garden; he beheld himself, and wished he had remained in his dark\ncorner in the loft; he thought of his first youth in the wood, of the\nmerry Christmas-eve, and of the little Mice who had listened with so\nmuch pleasure to the story of Humpy-Dumpy.\n\n\u201c'Tis over--'tis past!\u201d said the poor Tree. \u201cHad I but rejoiced when I\nhad reason to do so! But now 'tis past, 'tis past!\u201d\n\nAnd the gardener's boy chopped the Tree into small pieces; there was a\nwhole heap lying there. The wood flamed up splendidly under the large\nbrewing copper, and it sighed so deeply! Each sigh was like a shot.\n\nThe boys played about in the court, and the youngest wore the gold star\non his breast which the Tree had had on the happiest evening of his\nlife. However, that was over now--the Tree gone, the story at an end.\nAll, all was over--every tale must end at last.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SNOW QUEEN\n\nFIRST STORY. Which Treats of a Mirror and of the Splinters\n\nNow then, let us begin. When we are at the end of the story, we shall\nknow more than we know now: but to begin.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a wicked sprite, indeed he was the most\nmischievous of all sprites. One day he was in a very good humor, for\nhe had made a mirror with the power of causing all that was good and\nbeautiful when it was reflected therein, to look poor and mean; but\nthat which was good-for-nothing and looked ugly was shown magnified\nand increased in ugliness. In this mirror the most beautiful landscapes\nlooked like boiled spinach, and the best persons were turned into\nfrights, or appeared to stand on their heads; their faces were so\ndistorted that they were not to be recognised; and if anyone had a mole,\nyou might be sure that it would be magnified and spread over both nose\nand mouth.\n\n\u201cThat's glorious fun!\u201d said the sprite. If a good thought passed through\na man's mind, then a grin was seen in the mirror, and the sprite laughed\nheartily at his clever discovery. All the little sprites who went to his\nschool--for he kept a sprite school--told each other that a miracle had\nhappened; and that now only, as they thought, it would be possible to\nsee how the world really looked. They ran about with the mirror; and at\nlast there was not a land or a person who was not represented distorted\nin the mirror. So then they thought they would fly up to the sky,\nand have a joke there. The higher they flew with the mirror, the more\nterribly it grinned: they could hardly hold it fast. Higher and higher\nstill they flew, nearer and nearer to the stars, when suddenly the\nmirror shook so terribly with grinning, that it flew out of their hands\nand fell to the earth, where it was dashed in a hundred million and more\npieces. And now it worked much more evil than before; for some of these\npieces were hardly so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about in\nthe wide world, and when they got into people's eyes, there they stayed;\nand then people saw everything perverted, or only had an eye for that\nwhich was evil. This happened because the very smallest bit had the\nsame power which the whole mirror had possessed. Some persons even got\na splinter in their heart, and then it made one shudder, for their heart\nbecame like a lump of ice. Some of the broken pieces were so large that\nthey were used for windowpanes, through which one could not see one's\nfriends. Other pieces were put in spectacles; and that was a sad affair\nwhen people put on their glasses to see well and rightly. Then the\nwicked sprite laughed till he almost choked, for all this tickled his\nfancy. The fine splinters still flew about in the air: and now we shall\nhear what happened next.\n\n\nSECOND STORY. A Little Boy and a Little Girl\n\nIn a large town, where there are so many houses, and so many people,\nthat there is no roof left for everybody to have a little garden; and\nwhere, on this account, most persons are obliged to content themselves\nwith flowers in pots; there lived two little children, who had a garden\nsomewhat larger than a flower-pot. They were not brother and sister; but\nthey cared for each other as much as if they were. Their parents lived\nexactly opposite. They inhabited two garrets; and where the roof of the\none house joined that of the other, and the gutter ran along the extreme\nend of it, there was to each house a small window: one needed only to\nstep over the gutter to get from one window to the other.\n\nThe children's parents had large wooden boxes there, in which vegetables\nfor the kitchen were planted, and little rosetrees besides: there was a\nrose in each box, and they grew splendidly. They now thought of placing\nthe boxes across the gutter, so that they nearly reached from one window\nto the other, and looked just like two walls of flowers. The tendrils\nof the peas hung down over the boxes; and the rose-trees shot up long\nbranches, twined round the windows, and then bent towards each other: it\nwas almost like a triumphant arch of foliage and flowers. The boxes were\nvery high, and the children knew that they must not creep over them; so\nthey often obtained permission to get out of the windows to each other,\nand to sit on their little stools among the roses, where they could play\ndelightfully. In winter there was an end of this pleasure. The windows\nwere often frozen over; but then they heated copper farthings on the\nstove, and laid the hot farthing on the windowpane, and then they had a\ncapital peep-hole, quite nicely rounded; and out of each peeped a gentle\nfriendly eye--it was the little boy and the little girl who were looking\nout. His name was Kay, hers was Gerda. In summer, with one jump, they\ncould get to each other; but in winter they were obliged first to\ngo down the long stairs, and then up the long stairs again: and\nout-of-doors there was quite a snow-storm.\n\n\u201cIt is the white bees that are swarming,\u201d said Kay's old grandmother.\n\n\u201cDo the white bees choose a queen?\u201d asked the little boy; for he knew\nthat the honey-bees always have one.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the grandmother, \u201cshe flies where the swarm hangs in the\nthickest clusters. She is the largest of all; and she can never remain\nquietly on the earth, but goes up again into the black clouds. Many a\nwinter's night she flies through the streets of the town, and peeps in\nat the windows; and they then freeze in so wondrous a manner that they\nlook like flowers.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I have seen it,\u201d said both the children; and so they knew that it\nwas true.\n\n\u201cCan the Snow Queen come in?\u201d said the little girl.\n\n\u201cOnly let her come in!\u201d said the little boy. \u201cThen I'd put her on the\nstove, and she'd melt.\u201d\n\nAnd then his grandmother patted his head and told him other stories.\n\nIn the evening, when little Kay was at home, and half undressed, he\nclimbed up on the chair by the window, and peeped out of the little\nhole. A few snow-flakes were falling, and one, the largest of all,\nremained lying on the edge of a flower-pot.\n\nThe flake of snow grew larger and larger; and at last it was like a\nyoung lady, dressed in the finest white gauze, made of a million little\nflakes like stars. She was so beautiful and delicate, but she was of\nice, of dazzling, sparkling ice; yet she lived; her eyes gazed fixedly,\nlike two stars; but there was neither quiet nor repose in them. She\nnodded towards the window, and beckoned with her hand. The little boy\nwas frightened, and jumped down from the chair; it seemed to him as if,\nat the same moment, a large bird flew past the window.\n\nThe next day it was a sharp frost--and then the spring came; the sun\nshone, the green leaves appeared, the swallows built their nests, the\nwindows were opened, and the little children again sat in their pretty\ngarden, high up on the leads at the top of the house.\n\nThat summer the roses flowered in unwonted beauty. The little girl had\nlearned a hymn, in which there was something about roses; and then she\nthought of her own flowers; and she sang the verse to the little boy,\nwho then sang it with her:\n\n     \u201cThe rose in the valley is blooming so sweet,\n     And angels descend there the children to greet.\u201d\n\nAnd the children held each other by the hand, kissed the roses, looked\nup at the clear sunshine, and spoke as though they really saw angels\nthere. What lovely summer-days those were! How delightful to be out in\nthe air, near the fresh rose-bushes, that seem as if they would never\nfinish blossoming!\n\nKay and Gerda looked at the picture-book full of beasts and of birds;\nand it was then--the clock in the church-tower was just striking\nfive--that Kay said, \u201cOh! I feel such a sharp pain in my heart; and now\nsomething has got into my eye!\u201d\n\nThe little girl put her arms around his neck. He winked his eyes; now\nthere was nothing to be seen.\n\n\u201cI think it is out now,\u201d said he; but it was not. It was just one of\nthose pieces of glass from the magic mirror that had got into his eye;\nand poor Kay had got another piece right in his heart. It will soon\nbecome like ice. It did not hurt any longer, but there it was.\n\n\u201cWhat are you crying for?\u201d asked he. \u201cYou look so ugly! There's nothing\nthe matter with me. Ah,\u201d said he at once, \u201cthat rose is cankered! And\nlook, this one is quite crooked! After all, these roses are very ugly!\nThey are just like the box they are planted in!\u201d And then he gave the\nbox a good kick with his foot, and pulled both the roses up.\n\n\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d cried the little girl; and as he perceived her\nfright, he pulled up another rose, got in at the window, and hastened\noff from dear little Gerda.\n\nAfterwards, when she brought her picture-book, he asked, \u201cWhat horrid\nbeasts have you there?\u201d And if his grandmother told them stories, he\nalways interrupted her; besides, if he could manage it, he would get\nbehind her, put on her spectacles, and imitate her way of speaking; he\ncopied all her ways, and then everybody laughed at him. He was soon able\nto imitate the gait and manner of everyone in the street. Everything\nthat was peculiar and displeasing in them--that Kay knew how to imitate:\nand at such times all the people said, \u201cThe boy is certainly very\nclever!\u201d But it was the glass he had got in his eye; the glass that was\nsticking in his heart, which made him tease even little Gerda, whose\nwhole soul was devoted to him.\n\nHis games now were quite different to what they had formerly been, they\nwere so very knowing. One winter's day, when the flakes of snow were\nflying about, he spread the skirts of his blue coat, and caught the snow\nas it fell.\n\n\u201cLook through this glass, Gerda,\u201d said he. And every flake seemed\nlarger, and appeared like a magnificent flower, or beautiful star; it\nwas splendid to look at!\n\n\u201cLook, how clever!\u201d said Kay. \u201cThat's much more interesting than real\nflowers! They are as exact as possible; there is not a fault in them, if\nthey did not melt!\u201d\n\nIt was not long after this, that Kay came one day with large gloves on,\nand his little sledge at his back, and bawled right into Gerda's ears,\n\u201cI have permission to go out into the square where the others are\nplaying\u201d; and off he was in a moment.\n\nThere, in the market-place, some of the boldest of the boys used to tie\ntheir sledges to the carts as they passed by, and so they were pulled\nalong, and got a good ride. It was so capital! Just as they were in the\nvery height of their amusement, a large sledge passed by: it was painted\nquite white, and there was someone in it wrapped up in a rough white\nmantle of fur, with a rough white fur cap on his head. The sledge drove\nround the square twice, and Kay tied on his sledge as quickly as he\ncould, and off he drove with it. On they went quicker and quicker into\nthe next street; and the person who drove turned round to Kay, and\nnodded to him in a friendly manner, just as if they knew each other.\nEvery time he was going to untie his sledge, the person nodded to him,\nand then Kay sat quiet; and so on they went till they came outside\nthe gates of the town. Then the snow began to fall so thickly that the\nlittle boy could not see an arm's length before him, but still on he\nwent: when suddenly he let go the string he held in his hand in order\nto get loose from the sledge, but it was of no use; still the little\nvehicle rushed on with the quickness of the wind. He then cried as loud\nas he could, but no one heard him; the snow drifted and the sledge flew\non, and sometimes it gave a jerk as though they were driving over hedges\nand ditches. He was quite frightened, and he tried to repeat the\nLord's Prayer; but all he could do, he was only able to remember the\nmultiplication table.\n\nThe snow-flakes grew larger and larger, till at last they looked just\nlike great white fowls. Suddenly they flew on one side; the large sledge\nstopped, and the person who drove rose up. It was a lady; her cloak and\ncap were of snow. She was tall and of slender figure, and of a dazzling\nwhiteness. It was the Snow Queen.\n\n\u201cWe have travelled fast,\u201d said she; \u201cbut it is freezingly cold. Come\nunder my bearskin.\u201d And she put him in the sledge beside her,\nwrapped the fur round him, and he felt as though he were sinking in a\nsnow-wreath.\n\n\u201cAre you still cold?\u201d asked she; and then she kissed his forehead.\nAh! it was colder than ice; it penetrated to his very heart, which was\nalready almost a frozen lump; it seemed to him as if he were about to\ndie--but a moment more and it was quite congenial to him, and he did not\nremark the cold that was around him.\n\n\u201cMy sledge! Do not forget my sledge!\u201d It was the first thing he thought\nof. It was there tied to one of the white chickens, who flew along with\nit on his back behind the large sledge. The Snow Queen kissed Kay once\nmore, and then he forgot little Gerda, grandmother, and all whom he had\nleft at his home.\n\n\u201cNow you will have no more kisses,\u201d said she, \u201cor else I should kiss you\nto death!\u201d\n\nKay looked at her. She was very beautiful; a more clever, or a more\nlovely countenance he could not fancy to himself; and she no longer\nappeared of ice as before, when she sat outside the window, and beckoned\nto him; in his eyes she was perfect, he did not fear her at all, and\ntold her that he could calculate in his head and with fractions, even;\nthat he knew the number of square miles there were in the different\ncountries, and how many inhabitants they contained; and she smiled while\nhe spoke. It then seemed to him as if what he knew was not enough, and\nhe looked upwards in the large huge empty space above him, and on she\nflew with him; flew high over the black clouds, while the storm moaned\nand whistled as though it were singing some old tune. On they flew\nover woods and lakes, over seas, and many lands; and beneath them the\nchilling storm rushed fast, the wolves howled, the snow crackled; above\nthem flew large screaming crows, but higher up appeared the moon, quite\nlarge and bright; and it was on it that Kay gazed during the long long\nwinter's night; while by day he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen.\n\n\nTHIRD STORY. Of the Flower-Garden At the Old Woman's Who Understood\nWitchcraft\n\nBut what became of little Gerda when Kay did not return? Where could he\nbe? Nobody knew; nobody could give any intelligence. All the boys knew\nwas, that they had seen him tie his sledge to another large and splendid\none, which drove down the street and out of the town. Nobody knew\nwhere he was; many sad tears were shed, and little Gerda wept long and\nbitterly; at last she said he must be dead; that he had been drowned in\nthe river which flowed close to the town. Oh! those were very long and\ndismal winter evenings!\n\nAt last spring came, with its warm sunshine.\n\n\u201cKay is dead and gone!\u201d said little Gerda.\n\n\u201cThat I don't believe,\u201d said the Sunshine.\n\n\u201cKay is dead and gone!\u201d said she to the Swallows.\n\n\u201cThat I don't believe,\u201d said they: and at last little Gerda did not\nthink so any longer either.\n\n\u201cI'll put on my red shoes,\u201d said she, one morning; \u201cKay has never seen\nthem, and then I'll go down to the river and ask there.\u201d\n\nIt was quite early; she kissed her old grandmother, who was still\nasleep, put on her red shoes, and went alone to the river.\n\n\u201cIs it true that you have taken my little playfellow? I will make you a\npresent of my red shoes, if you will give him back to me.\u201d\n\nAnd, as it seemed to her, the blue waves nodded in a strange manner;\nthen she took off her red shoes, the most precious things she possessed,\nand threw them both into the river. But they fell close to the bank, and\nthe little waves bore them immediately to land; it was as if the stream\nwould not take what was dearest to her; for in reality it had not got\nlittle Kay; but Gerda thought that she had not thrown the shoes out far\nenough, so she clambered into a boat which lay among the rushes, went\nto the farthest end, and threw out the shoes. But the boat was not\nfastened, and the motion which she occasioned, made it drift from the\nshore. She observed this, and hastened to get back; but before she could\ndo so, the boat was more than a yard from the land, and was gliding\nquickly onward.\n\nLittle Gerda was very frightened, and began to cry; but no one heard her\nexcept the sparrows, and they could not carry her to land; but they flew\nalong the bank, and sang as if to comfort her, \u201cHere we are! Here we\nare!\u201d The boat drifted with the stream, little Gerda sat quite still\nwithout shoes, for they were swimming behind the boat, but she could not\nreach them, because the boat went much faster than they did.\n\nThe banks on both sides were beautiful; lovely flowers, venerable trees,\nand slopes with sheep and cows, but not a human being was to be seen.\n\n\u201cPerhaps the river will carry me to little Kay,\u201d said she; and then\nshe grew less sad. She rose, and looked for many hours at the beautiful\ngreen banks. Presently she sailed by a large cherry-orchard, where was\na little cottage with curious red and blue windows; it was thatched,\nand before it two wooden soldiers stood sentry, and presented arms when\nanyone went past.\n\nGerda called to them, for she thought they were alive; but they, of\ncourse, did not answer. She came close to them, for the stream drifted\nthe boat quite near the land.\n\nGerda called still louder, and an old woman then came out of the\ncottage, leaning upon a crooked stick. She had a large broad-brimmed hat\non, painted with the most splendid flowers.\n\n\u201cPoor little child!\u201d said the old woman. \u201cHow did you get upon the large\nrapid river, to be driven about so in the wide world!\u201d And then the\nold woman went into the water, caught hold of the boat with her crooked\nstick, drew it to the bank, and lifted little Gerda out.\n\nAnd Gerda was so glad to be on dry land again; but she was rather afraid\nof the strange old woman.\n\n\u201cBut come and tell me who you are, and how you came here,\u201d said she.\n\nAnd Gerda told her all; and the old woman shook her head and said,\n\u201cA-hem! a-hem!\u201d and when Gerda had told her everything, and asked her if\nshe had not seen little Kay, the woman answered that he had not passed\nthere, but he no doubt would come; and she told her not to be cast down,\nbut taste her cherries, and look at her flowers, which were finer than\nany in a picture-book, each of which could tell a whole story. She then\ntook Gerda by the hand, led her into the little cottage, and locked the\ndoor.\n\nThe windows were very high up; the glass was red, blue, and green, and\nthe sunlight shone through quite wondrously in all sorts of colors. On\nthe table stood the most exquisite cherries, and Gerda ate as many as\nshe chose, for she had permission to do so. While she was eating, the\nold woman combed her hair with a golden comb, and her hair curled and\nshone with a lovely golden color around that sweet little face, which\nwas so round and so like a rose.\n\n\u201cI have often longed for such a dear little girl,\u201d said the old woman.\n\u201cNow you shall see how well we agree together\u201d; and while she combed\nlittle Gerda's hair, the child forgot her foster-brother Kay more and\nmore, for the old woman understood magic; but she was no evil being, she\nonly practised witchcraft a little for her own private amusement, and\nnow she wanted very much to keep little Gerda. She therefore went out\nin the garden, stretched out her crooked stick towards the rose-bushes,\nwhich, beautifully as they were blowing, all sank into the earth and no\none could tell where they had stood. The old woman feared that if Gerda\nshould see the roses, she would then think of her own, would remember\nlittle Kay, and run away from her.\n\nShe now led Gerda into the flower-garden. Oh, what odour and what\nloveliness was there! Every flower that one could think of, and of every\nseason, stood there in fullest bloom; no picture-book could be gayer or\nmore beautiful. Gerda jumped for joy, and played till the sun set behind\nthe tall cherry-tree; she then had a pretty bed, with a red silken\ncoverlet filled with blue violets. She fell asleep, and had as pleasant\ndreams as ever a queen on her wedding-day.\n\nThe next morning she went to play with the flowers in the warm sunshine,\nand thus passed away a day. Gerda knew every flower; and, numerous as\nthey were, it still seemed to Gerda that one was wanting, though she\ndid not know which. One day while she was looking at the hat of the old\nwoman painted with flowers, the most beautiful of them all seemed to her\nto be a rose. The old woman had forgotten to take it from her hat\nwhen she made the others vanish in the earth. But so it is when one's\nthoughts are not collected. \u201cWhat!\u201d said Gerda. \u201cAre there no roses\nhere?\u201d and she ran about amongst the flowerbeds, and looked, and looked,\nbut there was not one to be found. She then sat down and wept; but her\nhot tears fell just where a rose-bush had sunk; and when her warm tears\nwatered the ground, the tree shot up suddenly as fresh and blooming as\nwhen it had been swallowed up. Gerda kissed the roses, thought of her\nown dear roses at home, and with them of little Kay.\n\n\u201cOh, how long I have stayed!\u201d said the little girl. \u201cI intended to look\nfor Kay! Don't you know where he is?\u201d she asked of the roses. \u201cDo you\nthink he is dead and gone?\u201d\n\n\u201cDead he certainly is not,\u201d said the Roses. \u201cWe have been in the earth\nwhere all the dead are, but Kay was not there.\u201d\n\n\u201cMany thanks!\u201d said little Gerda; and she went to the other flowers,\nlooked into their cups, and asked, \u201cDon't you know where little Kay is?\u201d\n\nBut every flower stood in the sunshine, and dreamed its own fairy tale\nor its own story: and they all told her very many things, but not one\nknew anything of Kay.\n\nWell, what did the Tiger-Lily say?\n\n\u201cHearest thou not the drum? Bum! Bum! Those are the only two tones.\nAlways bum! Bum! Hark to the plaintive song of the old woman, to the\ncall of the priests! The Hindoo woman in her long robe stands upon the\nfuneral pile; the flames rise around her and her dead husband, but the\nHindoo woman thinks on the living one in the surrounding circle; on him\nwhose eyes burn hotter than the flames--on him, the fire of whose eyes\npierces her heart more than the flames which soon will burn her body to\nashes. Can the heart's flame die in the flame of the funeral pile?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don't understand that at all,\u201d said little Gerda.\n\n\u201cThat is my story,\u201d said the Lily.\n\nWhat did the Convolvulus say?\n\n\u201cProjecting over a narrow mountain-path there hangs an old feudal\ncastle. Thick evergreens grow on the dilapidated walls, and around the\naltar, where a lovely maiden is standing: she bends over the railing and\nlooks out upon the rose. No fresher rose hangs on the branches than she;\nno appleblossom carried away by the wind is more buoyant! How her silken\nrobe is rustling!\n\n\u201c'Is he not yet come?'\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it Kay that you mean?\u201d asked little Gerda.\n\n\u201cI am speaking about my story--about my dream,\u201d answered the\nConvolvulus.\n\nWhat did the Snowdrops say?\n\n\u201cBetween the trees a long board is hanging--it is a swing. Two little\ngirls are sitting in it, and swing themselves backwards and forwards;\ntheir frocks are as white as snow, and long green silk ribands flutter\nfrom their bonnets. Their brother, who is older than they are, stands up\nin the swing; he twines his arms round the cords to hold himself fast,\nfor in one hand he has a little cup, and in the other a clay-pipe. He is\nblowing soap-bubbles. The swing moves, and the bubbles float in charming\nchanging colors: the last is still hanging to the end of the pipe, and\nrocks in the breeze. The swing moves. The little black dog, as light as\na soap-bubble, jumps up on his hind legs to try to get into the swing.\nIt moves, the dog falls down, barks, and is angry. They tease him; the\nbubble bursts! A swing, a bursting bubble--such is my song!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat you relate may be very pretty, but you tell it in so melancholy a\nmanner, and do not mention Kay.\u201d\n\nWhat do the Hyacinths say?\n\n\u201cThere were once upon a time three sisters, quite transparent, and very\nbeautiful. The robe of the one was red, that of the second blue, and\nthat of the third white. They danced hand in hand beside the calm\nlake in the clear moonshine. They were not elfin maidens, but mortal\nchildren. A sweet fragrance was smelt, and the maidens vanished in the\nwood; the fragrance grew stronger--three coffins, and in them three\nlovely maidens, glided out of the forest and across the lake: the\nshining glow-worms flew around like little floating lights. Do the\ndancing maidens sleep, or are they dead? The odour of the flowers says\nthey are corpses; the evening bell tolls for the dead!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou make me quite sad,\u201d said little Gerda. \u201cI cannot help thinking of\nthe dead maidens. Oh! is little Kay really dead? The Roses have been in\nthe earth, and they say no.\u201d\n\n\u201cDing, dong!\u201d sounded the Hyacinth bells. \u201cWe do not toll for little\nKay; we do not know him. That is our way of singing, the only one we\nhave.\u201d\n\nAnd Gerda went to the Ranunculuses, that looked forth from among the\nshining green leaves.\n\n\u201cYou are a little bright sun!\u201d said Gerda. \u201cTell me if you know where I\ncan find my playfellow.\u201d\n\nAnd the Ranunculus shone brightly, and looked again at Gerda. What\nsong could the Ranunculus sing? It was one that said nothing about Kay\neither.\n\n\u201cIn a small court the bright sun was shining in the first days of\nspring. The beams glided down the white walls of a neighbor's house, and\nclose by the fresh yellow flowers were growing, shining like gold in\nthe warm sun-rays. An old grandmother was sitting in the air; her\ngrand-daughter, the poor and lovely servant just come for a short visit.\nShe knows her grandmother. There was gold, pure virgin gold in that\nblessed kiss. There, that is my little story,\u201d said the Ranunculus.\n\n\u201cMy poor old grandmother!\u201d sighed Gerda. \u201cYes, she is longing for me,\nno doubt: she is sorrowing for me, as she did for little Kay. But I\nwill soon come home, and then I will bring Kay with me. It is of no use\nasking the flowers; they only know their own old rhymes, and can tell me\nnothing.\u201d And she tucked up her frock, to enable her to run quicker; but\nthe Narcissus gave her a knock on the leg, just as she was going to\njump over it. So she stood still, looked at the long yellow flower, and\nasked, \u201cYou perhaps know something?\u201d and she bent down to the Narcissus.\nAnd what did it say?\n\n\u201cI can see myself--I can see myself! Oh, how odorous I am! Up in the\nlittle garret there stands, half-dressed, a little Dancer. She stands\nnow on one leg, now on both; she despises the whole world; yet she lives\nonly in imagination. She pours water out of the teapot over a piece of\nstuff which she holds in her hand; it is the bodice; cleanliness is a\nfine thing. The white dress is hanging on the hook; it was washed in the\nteapot, and dried on the roof. She puts it on, ties a saffron-colored\nkerchief round her neck, and then the gown looks whiter. I can see\nmyself--I can see myself!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat's nothing to me,\u201d said little Gerda. \u201cThat does not concern me.\u201d\n And then off she ran to the further end of the garden.\n\nThe gate was locked, but she shook the rusted bolt till it was loosened,\nand the gate opened; and little Gerda ran off barefooted into the wide\nworld. She looked round her thrice, but no one followed her. At last she\ncould run no longer; she sat down on a large stone, and when she looked\nabout her, she saw that the summer had passed; it was late in the\nautumn, but that one could not remark in the beautiful garden, where\nthere was always sunshine, and where there were flowers the whole year\nround.\n\n\u201cDear me, how long I have staid!\u201d said Gerda. \u201cAutumn is come. I must\nnot rest any longer.\u201d And she got up to go further.\n\nOh, how tender and wearied her little feet were! All around it looked\nso cold and raw: the long willow-leaves were quite yellow, and the fog\ndripped from them like water; one leaf fell after the other: the sloes\nonly stood full of fruit, which set one's teeth on edge. Oh, how dark\nand comfortless it was in the dreary world!\n\n\nFOURTH STORY. The Prince and Princess\n\nGerda was obliged to rest herself again, when, exactly opposite to her,\na large Raven came hopping over the white snow. He had long been looking\nat Gerda and shaking his head; and now he said, \u201cCaw! Caw!\u201d Good day!\nGood day! He could not say it better; but he felt a sympathy for the\nlittle girl, and asked her where she was going all alone. The word\n\u201calone\u201d Gerda understood quite well, and felt how much was expressed\nby it; so she told the Raven her whole history, and asked if he had not\nseen Kay.\n\nThe Raven nodded very gravely, and said, \u201cIt may be--it may be!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat, do you really think so?\u201d cried the little girl; and she nearly\nsqueezed the Raven to death, so much did she kiss him.\n\n\u201cGently, gently,\u201d said the Raven. \u201cI think I know; I think that it may\nbe little Kay. But now he has forgotten you for the Princess.\u201d\n\n\u201cDoes he live with a Princess?\u201d asked Gerda.\n\n\u201cYes--listen,\u201d said the Raven; \u201cbut it will be difficult for me to\nspeak your language. If you understand the Raven language I can tell you\nbetter.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I have not learnt it,\u201d said Gerda; \u201cbut my grandmother understands\nit, and she can speak gibberish too. I wish I had learnt it.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo matter,\u201d said the Raven; \u201cI will tell you as well as I can; however,\nit will be bad enough.\u201d And then he told all he knew.\n\n\u201cIn the kingdom where we now are there lives a Princess, who is\nextraordinarily clever; for she has read all the newspapers in the whole\nworld, and has forgotten them again--so clever is she. She was lately,\nit is said, sitting on her throne--which is not very amusing after\nall--when she began humming an old tune, and it was just, 'Oh, why\nshould I not be married?' 'That song is not without its meaning,' said\nshe, and so then she was determined to marry; but she would have a\nhusband who knew how to give an answer when he was spoken to--not\none who looked only as if he were a great personage, for that is so\ntiresome. She then had all the ladies of the court drummed together; and\nwhen they heard her intention, all were very pleased, and said, 'We are\nvery glad to hear it; it is the very thing we were thinking of.' You may\nbelieve every word I say,\u201d said the Raven; \u201cfor I have a tame sweetheart\nthat hops about in the palace quite free, and it was she who told me all\nthis.\n\n\u201cThe newspapers appeared forthwith with a border of hearts and the\ninitials of the Princess; and therein you might read that every\ngood-looking young man was at liberty to come to the palace and speak to\nthe Princess; and he who spoke in such wise as showed he felt himself at\nhome there, that one the Princess would choose for her husband.\n\n\u201cYes, Yes,\u201d said the Raven, \u201cyou may believe it; it is as true as I am\nsitting here. People came in crowds; there was a crush and a hurry, but\nno one was successful either on the first or second day. They could all\ntalk well enough when they were out in the street; but as soon as\nthey came inside the palace gates, and saw the guard richly dressed\nin silver, and the lackeys in gold on the staircase, and the large\nilluminated saloons, then they were abashed; and when they stood before\nthe throne on which the Princess was sitting, all they could do was\nto repeat the last word they had uttered, and to hear it again did not\ninterest her very much. It was just as if the people within were under\na charm, and had fallen into a trance till they came out again into the\nstreet; for then--oh, then--they could chatter enough. There was a whole\nrow of them standing from the town-gates to the palace. I was there\nmyself to look,\u201d said the Raven. \u201cThey grew hungry and thirsty; but from\nthe palace they got nothing whatever, not even a glass of water. Some\nof the cleverest, it is true, had taken bread and butter with them:\nbut none shared it with his neighbor, for each thought, 'Let him look\nhungry, and then the Princess won't have him.'\u201d\n\n\u201cBut Kay--little Kay,\u201d said Gerda, \u201cwhen did he come? Was he among the\nnumber?\u201d\n\n\u201cPatience, patience; we are just come to him. It was on the third day\nwhen a little personage without horse or equipage, came marching right\nboldly up to the palace; his eyes shone like yours, he had beautiful\nlong hair, but his clothes were very shabby.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was Kay,\u201d cried Gerda, with a voice of delight. \u201cOh, now I've\nfound him!\u201d and she clapped her hands for joy.\n\n\u201cHe had a little knapsack at his back,\u201d said the Raven.\n\n\u201cNo, that was certainly his sledge,\u201d said Gerda; \u201cfor when he went away\nhe took his sledge with him.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat may be,\u201d said the Raven; \u201cI did not examine him so minutely; but\nI know from my tame sweetheart, that when he came into the court-yard\nof the palace, and saw the body-guard in silver, the lackeys on the\nstaircase, he was not the least abashed; he nodded, and said to them,\n'It must be very tiresome to stand on the stairs; for my part, I shall\ngo in.' The saloons were gleaming with lustres--privy councillors and\nexcellencies were walking about barefooted, and wore gold keys; it was\nenough to make any one feel uncomfortable. His boots creaked, too, so\nloudly, but still he was not at all afraid.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat's Kay for certain,\u201d said Gerda. \u201cI know he had on new boots; I\nhave heard them creaking in grandmama's room.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, they creaked,\u201d said the Raven. \u201cAnd on he went boldly up to the\nPrincess, who was sitting on a pearl as large as a spinning-wheel.\nAll the ladies of the court, with their attendants and attendants'\nattendants, and all the cavaliers, with their gentlemen and gentlemen's\ngentlemen, stood round; and the nearer they stood to the door, the\nprouder they looked. It was hardly possible to look at the gentleman's\ngentleman, so very haughtily did he stand in the doorway.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt must have been terrible,\u201d said little Gerda. \u201cAnd did Kay get the\nPrincess?\u201d\n\n\u201cWere I not a Raven, I should have taken the Princess myself, although\nI am promised. It is said he spoke as well as I speak when I talk Raven\nlanguage; this I learned from my tame sweetheart. He was bold and nicely\nbehaved; he had not come to woo the Princess, but only to hear her\nwisdom. She pleased him, and he pleased her.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes; for certain that was Kay,\u201d said Gerda. \u201cHe was so clever;\nhe could reckon fractions in his head. Oh, won't you take me to the\npalace?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is very easily said,\u201d answered the Raven. \u201cBut how are we to\nmanage it? I'll speak to my tame sweetheart about it: she must advise\nus; for so much I must tell you, such a little girl as you are will\nnever get permission to enter.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, yes I shall,\u201d said Gerda; \u201cwhen Kay hears that I am here, he will\ncome out directly to fetch me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWait for me here on these steps,\u201d said the Raven. He moved his head\nbackwards and forwards and flew away.\n\nThe evening was closing in when the Raven returned. \u201cCaw--caw!\u201d said he.\n\u201cShe sends you her compliments; and here is a roll for you. She took\nit out of the kitchen, where there is bread enough. You are hungry,\nno doubt. It is not possible for you to enter the palace, for you are\nbarefooted: the guards in silver, and the lackeys in gold, would not\nallow it; but do not cry, you shall come in still. My sweetheart knows a\nlittle back stair that leads to the bedchamber, and she knows where she\ncan get the key of it.\u201d\n\nAnd they went into the garden in the large avenue, where one leaf was\nfalling after the other; and when the lights in the palace had all\ngradually disappeared, the Raven led little Gerda to the back door,\nwhich stood half open.\n\nOh, how Gerda's heart beat with anxiety and longing! It was just as if\nshe had been about to do something wrong; and yet she only wanted to\nknow if little Kay was there. Yes, he must be there. She called to mind\nhis intelligent eyes, and his long hair, so vividly, she could quite see\nhim as he used to laugh when they were sitting under the roses at home.\n\u201cHe will, no doubt, be glad to see you--to hear what a long way you have\ncome for his sake; to know how unhappy all at home were when he did not\ncome back.\u201d\n\nOh, what a fright and a joy it was!\n\nThey were now on the stairs. A single lamp was burning there; and on the\nfloor stood the tame Raven, turning her head on every side and looking\nat Gerda, who bowed as her grandmother had taught her to do.\n\n\u201cMy intended has told me so much good of you, my dear young lady,\u201d said\nthe tame Raven. \u201cYour tale is very affecting. If you will take the lamp,\nI will go before. We will go straight on, for we shall meet no one.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think there is somebody just behind us,\u201d said Gerda; and something\nrushed past: it was like shadowy figures on the wall; horses with\nflowing manes and thin legs, huntsmen, ladies and gentlemen on\nhorseback.\n\n\u201cThey are only dreams,\u201d said the Raven. \u201cThey come to fetch the thoughts\nof the high personages to the chase; 'tis well, for now you can observe\nthem in bed all the better. But let me find, when you enjoy honor and\ndistinction, that you possess a grateful heart.\u201d\n\n\u201cTut! That's not worth talking about,\u201d said the Raven of the woods.\n\nThey now entered the first saloon, which was of rose-colored satin, with\nartificial flowers on the wall. Here the dreams were rushing past,\nbut they hastened by so quickly that Gerda could not see the high\npersonages. One hall was more magnificent than the other; one might\nindeed well be abashed; and at last they came into the bedchamber. The\nceiling of the room resembled a large palm-tree with leaves of glass,\nof costly glass; and in the middle, from a thick golden stem, hung two\nbeds, each of which resembled a lily. One was white, and in this lay the\nPrincess; the other was red, and it was here that Gerda was to look for\nlittle Kay. She bent back one of the red leaves, and saw a brown neck.\nOh! that was Kay! She called him quite loud by name, held the lamp\ntowards him--the dreams rushed back again into the chamber--he awoke,\nturned his head, and--it was not little Kay!\n\nThe Prince was only like him about the neck; but he was young and\nhandsome. And out of the white lily leaves the Princess peeped, too,\nand asked what was the matter. Then little Gerda cried, and told her her\nwhole history, and all that the Ravens had done for her.\n\n\u201cPoor little thing!\u201d said the Prince and the Princess. They praised the\nRavens very much, and told them they were not at all angry with them,\nbut they were not to do so again. However, they should have a reward.\n\u201cWill you fly about here at liberty,\u201d asked the Princess; \u201cor would you\nlike to have a fixed appointment as court ravens, with all the broken\nbits from the kitchen?\u201d\n\nAnd both the Ravens nodded, and begged for a fixed appointment; for\nthey thought of their old age, and said, \u201cIt is a good thing to have a\nprovision for our old days.\u201d\n\nAnd the Prince got up and let Gerda sleep in his bed, and more than this\nhe could not do. She folded her little hands and thought, \u201cHow good men\nand animals are!\u201d and she then fell asleep and slept soundly. All the\ndreams flew in again, and they now looked like the angels; they drew\na little sledge, in which little Kay sat and nodded his head; but the\nwhole was only a dream, and therefore it all vanished as soon as she\nawoke.\n\nThe next day she was dressed from head to foot in silk and velvet. They\noffered to let her stay at the palace, and lead a happy life; but she\nbegged to have a little carriage with a horse in front, and for a small\npair of shoes; then, she said, she would again go forth in the wide\nworld and look for Kay.\n\nShoes and a muff were given her; she was, too, dressed very nicely; and\nwhen she was about to set off, a new carriage stopped before the door.\nIt was of pure gold, and the arms of the Prince and Princess shone\nlike a star upon it; the coachman, the footmen, and the outriders, for\noutriders were there, too, all wore golden crowns. The Prince and the\nPrincess assisted her into the carriage themselves, and wished her all\nsuccess. The Raven of the woods, who was now married, accompanied her\nfor the first three miles. He sat beside Gerda, for he could not bear\nriding backwards; the other Raven stood in the doorway, and flapped her\nwings; she could not accompany Gerda, because she suffered from headache\nsince she had had a fixed appointment and ate so much. The carriage\nwas lined inside with sugar-plums, and in the seats were fruits and\ngingerbread.\n\n\u201cFarewell! Farewell!\u201d cried Prince and Princess; and Gerda wept, and\nthe Raven wept. Thus passed the first miles; and then the Raven bade her\nfarewell, and this was the most painful separation of all. He flew into\na tree, and beat his black wings as long as he could see the carriage,\nthat shone from afar like a sunbeam.\n\n\nFIFTH STORY. The Little Robber Maiden\n\nThey drove through the dark wood; but the carriage shone like a torch,\nand it dazzled the eyes of the robbers, so that they could not bear to\nlook at it.\n\n\u201c'Tis gold! 'Tis gold!\u201d they cried; and they rushed forward, seized\nthe horses, knocked down the little postilion, the coachman, and the\nservants, and pulled little Gerda out of the carriage.\n\n\u201cHow plump, how beautiful she is! She must have been fed on\nnut-kernels,\u201d said the old female robber, who had a long, scrubby beard,\nand bushy eyebrows that hung down over her eyes. \u201cShe is as good as a\nfatted lamb! How nice she will be!\u201d And then she drew out a knife, the\nblade of which shone so that it was quite dreadful to behold.\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d cried the woman at the same moment. She had been bitten in the ear\nby her own little daughter, who hung at her back; and who was so wild\nand unmanageable, that it was quite amusing to see her. \u201cYou naughty\nchild!\u201d said the mother: and now she had not time to kill Gerda.\n\n\u201cShe shall play with me,\u201d said the little robber child. \u201cShe shall give\nme her muff, and her pretty frock; she shall sleep in my bed!\u201d And then\nshe gave her mother another bite, so that she jumped, and ran round with\nthe pain; and the Robbers laughed, and said, \u201cLook, how she is dancing\nwith the little one!\u201d\n\n\u201cI will go into the carriage,\u201d said the little robber maiden; and she\nwould have her will, for she was very spoiled and very headstrong. She\nand Gerda got in; and then away they drove over the stumps of felled\ntrees, deeper and deeper into the woods. The little robber maiden was as\ntall as Gerda, but stronger, broader-shouldered, and of dark complexion;\nher eyes were quite black; they looked almost melancholy. She embraced\nlittle Gerda, and said, \u201cThey shall not kill you as long as I am not\ndispleased with you. You are, doubtless, a Princess?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said little Gerda; who then related all that had happened to her,\nand how much she cared about little Kay.\n\nThe little robber maiden looked at her with a serious air, nodded her\nhead slightly, and said, \u201cThey shall not kill you, even if I am angry\nwith you: then I will do it myself\u201d; and she dried Gerda's eyes, and put\nboth her hands in the handsome muff, which was so soft and warm.\n\nAt length the carriage stopped. They were in the midst of the court-yard\nof a robber's castle. It was full of cracks from top to bottom; and out\nof the openings magpies and rooks were flying; and the great bull-dogs,\neach of which looked as if he could swallow a man, jumped up, but they\ndid not bark, for that was forbidden.\n\nIn the midst of the large, old, smoking hall burnt a great fire on the\nstone floor. The smoke disappeared under the stones, and had to seek\nits own egress. In an immense caldron soup was boiling; and rabbits and\nhares were being roasted on a spit.\n\n\u201cYou shall sleep with me to-night, with all my animals,\u201d said the little\nrobber maiden. They had something to eat and drink; and then went into\na corner, where straw and carpets were lying. Beside them, on laths and\nperches, sat nearly a hundred pigeons, all asleep, seemingly; but yet\nthey moved a little when the robber maiden came. \u201cThey are all mine,\u201d\n said she, at the same time seizing one that was next to her by the legs\nand shaking it so that its wings fluttered. \u201cKiss it,\u201d cried the little\ngirl, and flung the pigeon in Gerda's face. \u201cUp there is the rabble of\nthe wood,\u201d continued she, pointing to several laths which were fastened\nbefore a hole high up in the wall; \u201cthat's the rabble; they would all\nfly away immediately, if they were not well fastened in. And here is my\ndear old Bac\u201d; and she laid hold of the horns of a reindeer, that had a\nbright copper ring round its neck, and was tethered to the spot. \u201cWe are\nobliged to lock this fellow in too, or he would make his escape. Every\nevening I tickle his neck with my sharp knife; he is so frightened at\nit!\u201d and the little girl drew forth a long knife, from a crack in the\nwall, and let it glide over the Reindeer's neck. The poor animal kicked;\nthe girl laughed, and pulled Gerda into bed with her.\n\n\u201cDo you intend to keep your knife while you sleep?\u201d asked Gerda; looking\nat it rather fearfully.\n\n\u201cI always sleep with the knife,\u201d said the little robber maiden. \u201cThere\nis no knowing what may happen. But tell me now, once more, all about\nlittle Kay; and why you have started off in the wide world alone.\u201d And\nGerda related all, from the very beginning: the Wood-pigeons cooed above\nin their cage, and the others slept. The little robber maiden wound her\narm round Gerda's neck, held the knife in the other hand, and snored so\nloud that everybody could hear her; but Gerda could not close her eyes,\nfor she did not know whether she was to live or die. The robbers sat\nround the fire, sang and drank; and the old female robber jumped about\nso, that it was quite dreadful for Gerda to see her.\n\nThen the Wood-pigeons said, \u201cCoo! Coo! We have seen little Kay! A white\nhen carries his sledge; he himself sat in the carriage of the Snow\nQueen, who passed here, down just over the wood, as we lay in our nest.\nShe blew upon us young ones; and all died except we two. Coo! Coo!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is that you say up there?\u201d cried little Gerda. \u201cWhere did the Snow\nQueen go to? Do you know anything about it?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is no doubt gone to Lapland; for there is always snow and ice\nthere. Only ask the Reindeer, who is tethered there.\u201d\n\n\u201cIce and snow is there! There it is, glorious and beautiful!\u201d said the\nReindeer. \u201cOne can spring about in the large shining valleys! The Snow\nQueen has her summer-tent there; but her fixed abode is high up towards\nthe North Pole, on the Island called Spitzbergen.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, Kay! Poor little Kay!\u201d sighed Gerda.\n\n\u201cDo you choose to be quiet?\u201d said the robber maiden. \u201cIf you don't, I\nshall make you.\u201d\n\nIn the morning Gerda told her all that the Wood-pigeons had said; and\nthe little maiden looked very serious, but she nodded her head, and\nsaid, \u201cThat's no matter--that's no matter. Do you know where Lapland\nlies!\u201d she asked of the Reindeer.\n\n\u201cWho should know better than I?\u201d said the animal; and his eyes rolled in\nhis head. \u201cI was born and bred there--there I leapt about on the fields\nof snow.\u201d\n\n\u201cListen,\u201d said the robber maiden to Gerda. \u201cYou see that the men are\ngone; but my mother is still here, and will remain. However, towards\nmorning she takes a draught out of the large flask, and then she sleeps\na little: then I will do something for you.\u201d She now jumped out of bed,\nflew to her mother; with her arms round her neck, and pulling her by the\nbeard, said, \u201cGood morrow, my own sweet nanny-goat of a mother.\u201d And her\nmother took hold of her nose, and pinched it till it was red and blue;\nbut this was all done out of pure love.\n\nWhen the mother had taken a sup at her flask, and was having a nap, the\nlittle robber maiden went to the Reindeer, and said, \u201cI should very much\nlike to give you still many a tickling with the sharp knife, for then\nyou are so amusing; however, I will untether you, and help you out,\nso that you may go back to Lapland. But you must make good use of your\nlegs; and take this little girl for me to the palace of the Snow Queen,\nwhere her playfellow is. You have heard, I suppose, all she said; for\nshe spoke loud enough, and you were listening.\u201d\n\nThe Reindeer gave a bound for joy. The robber maiden lifted up little\nGerda, and took the precaution to bind her fast on the Reindeer's back;\nshe even gave her a small cushion to sit on. \u201cHere are your worsted\nleggins, for it will be cold; but the muff I shall keep for myself, for\nit is so very pretty. But I do not wish you to be cold. Here is a pair\nof lined gloves of my mother's; they just reach up to your elbow. On\nwith them! Now you look about the hands just like my ugly old mother!\u201d\n\nAnd Gerda wept for joy.\n\n\u201cI can't bear to see you fretting,\u201d said the little robber maiden. \u201cThis\nis just the time when you ought to look pleased. Here are two loaves and\na ham for you, so that you won't starve.\u201d The bread and the meat were\nfastened to the Reindeer's back; the little maiden opened the door,\ncalled in all the dogs, and then with her knife cut the rope that\nfastened the animal, and said to him, \u201cNow, off with you; but take good\ncare of the little girl!\u201d\n\nAnd Gerda stretched out her hands with the large wadded gloves towards\nthe robber maiden, and said, \u201cFarewell!\u201d and the Reindeer flew on over\nbush and bramble through the great wood, over moor and heath, as fast as\nhe could go.\n\n\u201cDdsa! Ddsa!\u201d was heard in the sky. It was just as if somebody was\nsneezing.\n\n\u201cThese are my old northern-lights,\u201d said the Reindeer, \u201clook how they\ngleam!\u201d And on he now sped still quicker--day and night on he went: the\nloaves were consumed, and the ham too; and now they were in Lapland.\n\n\nSIXTH STORY. The Lapland Woman and the Finland Woman\n\nSuddenly they stopped before a little house, which looked very\nmiserable. The roof reached to the ground; and the door was so low, that\nthe family were obliged to creep upon their stomachs when they went in\nor out. Nobody was at home except an old Lapland woman, who was dressing\nfish by the light of an oil lamp. And the Reindeer told her the whole\nof Gerda's history, but first of all his own; for that seemed to him of\nmuch greater importance. Gerda was so chilled that she could not speak.\n\n\u201cPoor thing,\u201d said the Lapland woman, \u201cyou have far to run still. You\nhave more than a hundred miles to go before you get to Finland; there\nthe Snow Queen has her country-house, and burns blue lights every\nevening. I will give you a few words from me, which I will write on a\ndried haberdine, for paper I have none; this you can take with you to\nthe Finland woman, and she will be able to give you more information\nthan I can.\u201d\n\nWhen Gerda had warmed herself, and had eaten and drunk, the Lapland\nwoman wrote a few words on a dried haberdine, begged Gerda to take care\nof them, put her on the Reindeer, bound her fast, and away sprang the\nanimal. \u201cDdsa! Ddsa!\u201d was again heard in the air; the most charming\nblue lights burned the whole night in the sky, and at last they came to\nFinland. They knocked at the chimney of the Finland woman; for as to a\ndoor, she had none.\n\nThere was such a heat inside that the Finland woman herself went about\nalmost naked. She was diminutive and dirty. She immediately loosened\nlittle Gerda's clothes, pulled off her thick gloves and boots; for\notherwise the heat would have been too great--and after laying a piece\nof ice on the Reindeer's head, read what was written on the fish-skin.\nShe read it three times: she then knew it by heart; so she put the fish\ninto the cupboard--for it might very well be eaten, and she never threw\nanything away.\n\nThen the Reindeer related his own story first, and afterwards that of\nlittle Gerda; and the Finland woman winked her eyes, but said nothing.\n\n\u201cYou are so clever,\u201d said the Reindeer; \u201cyou can, I know, twist all the\nwinds of the world together in a knot. If the seaman loosens one knot,\nthen he has a good wind; if a second, then it blows pretty stiffly; if\nhe undoes the third and fourth, then it rages so that the forests are\nupturned. Will you give the little maiden a potion, that she may possess\nthe strength of twelve men, and vanquish the Snow Queen?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe strength of twelve men!\u201d said the Finland woman. \u201cMuch good that\nwould be!\u201d Then she went to a cupboard, and drew out a large skin rolled\nup. When she had unrolled it, strange characters were to be seen written\nthereon; and the Finland woman read at such a rate that the perspiration\ntrickled down her forehead.\n\nBut the Reindeer begged so hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked so\nimploringly with tearful eyes at the Finland woman, that she winked, and\ndrew the Reindeer aside into a corner, where they whispered together,\nwhile the animal got some fresh ice put on his head.\n\n\u201c'Tis true little Kay is at the Snow Queen's, and finds everything there\nquite to his taste; and he thinks it the very best place in the world;\nbut the reason of that is, he has a splinter of glass in his eye, and in\nhis heart. These must be got out first; otherwise he will never go back\nto mankind, and the Snow Queen will retain her power over him.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut can you give little Gerda nothing to take which will endue her with\npower over the whole?\u201d\n\n\u201cI can give her no more power than what she has already. Don't you see\nhow great it is? Don't you see how men and animals are forced to serve\nher; how well she gets through the world barefooted? She must not hear\nof her power from us; that power lies in her heart, because she is\na sweet and innocent child! If she cannot get to the Snow Queen by\nherself, and rid little Kay of the glass, we cannot help her. Two miles\nhence the garden of the Snow Queen begins; thither you may carry the\nlittle girl. Set her down by the large bush with red berries, standing\nin the snow; don't stay talking, but hasten back as fast as possible.\u201d\n And now the Finland woman placed little Gerda on the Reindeer's back,\nand off he ran with all imaginable speed.\n\n\u201cOh! I have not got my boots! I have not brought my gloves!\u201d cried\nlittle Gerda. She remarked she was without them from the cutting frost;\nbut the Reindeer dared not stand still; on he ran till he came to the\ngreat bush with the red berries, and there he set Gerda down, kissed her\nmouth, while large bright tears flowed from the animal's eyes, and then\nback he went as fast as possible. There stood poor Gerda now, without\nshoes or gloves, in the very middle of dreadful icy Finland.\n\nShe ran on as fast as she could. There then came a whole regiment of\nsnow-flakes, but they did not fall from above, and they were quite\nbright and shining from the Aurora Borealis. The flakes ran along\nthe ground, and the nearer they came the larger they grew. Gerda well\nremembered how large and strange the snow-flakes appeared when she\nonce saw them through a magnifying-glass; but now they were large and\nterrific in another manner--they were all alive. They were the outposts\nof the Snow Queen. They had the most wondrous shapes; some looked like\nlarge ugly porcupines; others like snakes knotted together, with their\nheads sticking out; and others, again, like small fat bears, with the\nhair standing on end: all were of dazzling whiteness--all were living\nsnow-flakes.\n\nLittle Gerda repeated the Lord's Prayer. The cold was so intense that\nshe could see her own breath, which came like smoke out of her mouth. It\ngrew thicker and thicker, and took the form of little angels, that grew\nmore and more when they touched the earth. All had helms on their heads,\nand lances and shields in their hands; they increased in numbers; and\nwhen Gerda had finished the Lord's Prayer, she was surrounded by a whole\nlegion. They thrust at the horrid snow-flakes with their spears, so that\nthey flew into a thousand pieces; and little Gerda walked on bravely and\nin security. The angels patted her hands and feet; and then she felt the\ncold less, and went on quickly towards the palace of the Snow Queen.\n\nBut now we shall see how Kay fared. He never thought of Gerda, and least\nof all that she was standing before the palace.\n\n\nSEVENTH STORY. What Took Place in the Palace of the Snow Queen, and what\nHappened Afterward.\n\nThe walls of the palace were of driving snow, and the windows and doors\nof cutting winds. There were more than a hundred halls there, according\nas the snow was driven by the winds. The largest was many miles in\nextent; all were lighted up by the powerful Aurora Borealis, and all\nwere so large, so empty, so icy cold, and so resplendent! Mirth never\nreigned there; there was never even a little bear-ball, with the storm\nfor music, while the polar bears went on their hind legs and showed off\ntheir steps. Never a little tea-party of white young lady foxes; vast,\ncold, and empty were the halls of the Snow Queen. The northern-lights\nshone with such precision that one could tell exactly when they were\nat their highest or lowest degree of brightness. In the middle of the\nempty, endless hall of snow, was a frozen lake; it was cracked in a\nthousand pieces, but each piece was so like the other, that it seemed\nthe work of a cunning artificer. In the middle of this lake sat the Snow\nQueen when she was at home; and then she said she was sitting in the\nMirror of Understanding, and that this was the only one and the best\nthing in the world.\n\nLittle Kay was quite blue, yes nearly black with cold; but he did not\nobserve it, for she had kissed away all feeling of cold from his body,\nand his heart was a lump of ice. He was dragging along some pointed\nflat pieces of ice, which he laid together in all possible ways, for he\nwanted to make something with them; just as we have little flat pieces\nof wood to make geometrical figures with, called the Chinese Puzzle.\nKay made all sorts of figures, the most complicated, for it was\nan ice-puzzle for the understanding. In his eyes the figures were\nextraordinarily beautiful, and of the utmost importance; for the bit\nof glass which was in his eye caused this. He found whole figures which\nrepresented a written word; but he never could manage to represent just\nthe word he wanted--that word was \u201ceternity\u201d; and the Snow Queen had\nsaid, \u201cIf you can discover that figure, you shall be your own master,\nand I will make you a present of the whole world and a pair of new\nskates.\u201d But he could not find it out.\n\n\u201cI am going now to warm lands,\u201d said the Snow Queen. \u201cI must have a look\ndown into the black caldrons.\u201d It was the volcanoes Vesuvius and Etna\nthat she meant. \u201cI will just give them a coating of white, for that is\nas it ought to be; besides, it is good for the oranges and the grapes.\u201d\n And then away she flew, and Kay sat quite alone in the empty halls of\nice that were miles long, and looked at the blocks of ice, and thought\nand thought till his skull was almost cracked. There he sat quite\nbenumbed and motionless; one would have imagined he was frozen to death.\n\nSuddenly little Gerda stepped through the great portal into the palace.\nThe gate was formed of cutting winds; but Gerda repeated her evening\nprayer, and the winds were laid as though they slept; and the little\nmaiden entered the vast, empty, cold halls. There she beheld Kay: she\nrecognised him, flew to embrace him, and cried out, her arms firmly\nholding him the while, \u201cKay, sweet little Kay! Have I then found you at\nlast?\u201d\n\nBut he sat quite still, benumbed and cold. Then little Gerda shed\nburning tears; and they fell on his bosom, they penetrated to his\nheart, they thawed the lumps of ice, and consumed the splinters of the\nlooking-glass; he looked at her, and she sang the hymn:\n\n\u201cThe rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, And angels descend there\nthe children to greet.\u201d\n\nHereupon Kay burst into tears; he wept so much that the splinter rolled\nout of his eye, and he recognised her, and shouted, \u201cGerda, sweet little\nGerda! Where have you been so long? And where have I been?\u201d He looked\nround him. \u201cHow cold it is here!\u201d said he. \u201cHow empty and cold!\u201d And he\nheld fast by Gerda, who laughed and wept for joy. It was so beautiful,\nthat even the blocks of ice danced about for joy; and when they were\ntired and laid themselves down, they formed exactly the letters which\nthe Snow Queen had told him to find out; so now he was his own master,\nand he would have the whole world and a pair of new skates into the\nbargain.\n\nGerda kissed his cheeks, and they grew quite blooming; she kissed his\neyes, and they shone like her own; she kissed his hands and feet, and he\nwas again well and merry. The Snow Queen might come back as soon as she\nliked; there stood his discharge written in resplendent masses of ice.\n\nThey took each other by the hand, and wandered forth out of the large\nhall; they talked of their old grandmother, and of the roses upon the\nroof; and wherever they went, the winds ceased raging, and the sun burst\nforth. And when they reached the bush with the red berries, they found\nthe Reindeer waiting for them. He had brought another, a young one, with\nhim, whose udder was filled with milk, which he gave to the little ones,\nand kissed their lips. They then carried Kay and Gerda--first to the\nFinland woman, where they warmed themselves in the warm room, and\nlearned what they were to do on their journey home; and they went to\nthe Lapland woman, who made some new clothes for them and repaired their\nsledges.\n\nThe Reindeer and the young hind leaped along beside them, and\naccompanied them to the boundary of the country. Here the first\nvegetation peeped forth; here Kay and Gerda took leave of the Lapland\nwoman. \u201cFarewell! Farewell!\u201d they all said. And the first green buds\nappeared, the first little birds began to chirrup; and out of the wood\ncame, riding on a magnificent horse, which Gerda knew (it was one of the\nleaders in the golden carriage), a young damsel with a bright-red cap on\nher head, and armed with pistols. It was the little robber maiden, who,\ntired of being at home, had determined to make a journey to the north;\nand afterwards in another direction, if that did not please her. She\nrecognised Gerda immediately, and Gerda knew her too. It was a joyful\nmeeting.\n\n\u201cYou are a fine fellow for tramping about,\u201d said she to little Kay; \u201cI\nshould like to know, faith, if you deserve that one should run from one\nend of the world to the other for your sake?\u201d\n\nBut Gerda patted her cheeks, and inquired for the Prince and Princess.\n\n\u201cThey are gone abroad,\u201d said the other.\n\n\u201cBut the Raven?\u201d asked little Gerda.\n\n\u201cOh! The Raven is dead,\u201d she answered. \u201cHis tame sweetheart is a\nwidow, and wears a bit of black worsted round her leg; she laments most\npiteously, but it's all mere talk and stuff! Now tell me what you've\nbeen doing and how you managed to catch him.\u201d\n\nAnd Gerda and Kay both told their story.\n\nAnd \u201cSchnipp-schnapp-schnurre-basselurre,\u201d said the robber maiden; and\nshe took the hands of each, and promised that if she should some day\npass through the town where they lived, she would come and visit them;\nand then away she rode. Kay and Gerda took each other's hand: it was\nlovely spring weather, with abundance of flowers and of verdure. The\nchurch-bells rang, and the children recognised the high towers, and the\nlarge town; it was that in which they dwelt. They entered and hastened\nup to their grandmother's room, where everything was standing as\nformerly. The clock said \u201ctick! tack!\u201d and the finger moved round; but\nas they entered, they remarked that they were now grown up. The roses\non the leads hung blooming in at the open window; there stood the little\nchildren's chairs, and Kay and Gerda sat down on them, holding each\nother by the hand; they both had forgotten the cold empty splendor of\nthe Snow Queen, as though it had been a dream. The grandmother sat in\nthe bright sunshine, and read aloud from the Bible: \u201cUnless ye become as\nlittle children, ye cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.\u201d\n\nAnd Kay and Gerda looked in each other's eyes, and all at once they\nunderstood the old hymn:\n\n\u201cThe rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, And angels descend there\nthe children to greet.\u201d\n\nThere sat the two grown-up persons; grown-up, and yet children; children\nat least in heart; and it was summer-time; summer, glorious summer!\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEAP-FROG\n\nA Flea, a Grasshopper, and a Leap-frog once wanted to see which could\njump highest; and they invited the whole world, and everybody else\nbesides who chose to come to see the festival. Three famous jumpers were\nthey, as everyone would say, when they all met together in the room.\n\n\u201cI will give my daughter to him who jumps highest,\u201d exclaimed the King;\n\u201cfor it is not so amusing where there is no prize to jump for.\u201d\n\nThe Flea was the first to step forward. He had exquisite manners, and\nbowed to the company on all sides; for he had noble blood, and was,\nmoreover, accustomed to the society of man alone; and that makes a great\ndifference.\n\nThen came the Grasshopper. He was considerably heavier, but he was\nwell-mannered, and wore a green uniform, which he had by right of birth;\nhe said, moreover, that he belonged to a very ancient Egyptian family,\nand that in the house where he then was, he was thought much of. The\nfact was, he had been just brought out of the fields, and put in a\npasteboard house, three stories high, all made of court-cards, with the\ncolored side inwards; and doors and windows cut out of the body of\nthe Queen of Hearts. \u201cI sing so well,\u201d said he, \u201cthat sixteen native\ngrasshoppers who have chirped from infancy, and yet got no house built\nof cards to live in, grew thinner than they were before for sheer\nvexation when they heard me.\u201d\n\nIt was thus that the Flea and the Grasshopper gave an account of\nthemselves, and thought they were quite good enough to marry a Princess.\n\nThe Leap-frog said nothing; but people gave it as their opinion, that\nhe therefore thought the more; and when the housedog snuffed at him\nwith his nose, he confessed the Leap-frog was of good family. The old\ncouncillor, who had had three orders given him to make him hold his\ntongue, asserted that the Leap-frog was a prophet; for that one could\nsee on his back, if there would be a severe or mild winter, and that\nwas what one could not see even on the back of the man who writes the\nalmanac.\n\n\u201cI say nothing, it is true,\u201d exclaimed the King; \u201cbut I have my own\nopinion, notwithstanding.\u201d\n\nNow the trial was to take place. The Flea jumped so high that nobody\ncould see where he went to; so they all asserted he had not jumped at\nall; and that was dishonorable.\n\nThe Grasshopper jumped only half as high; but he leaped into the King's\nface, who said that was ill-mannered.\n\nThe Leap-frog stood still for a long time lost in thought; it was\nbelieved at last he would not jump at all.\n\n\u201cI only hope he is not unwell,\u201d said the house-dog; when, pop! he made a\njump all on one side into the lap of the Princess, who was sitting on a\nlittle golden stool close by.\n\nHereupon the King said, \u201cThere is nothing above my daughter; therefore\nto bound up to her is the highest jump that can be made; but for this,\none must possess understanding, and the Leap-frog has shown that he has\nunderstanding. He is brave and intellectual.\u201d\n\nAnd so he won the Princess.\n\n\u201cIt's all the same to me,\u201d said the Flea. \u201cShe may have the old\nLeap-frog, for all I care. I jumped the highest; but in this world\nmerit seldom meets its reward. A fine exterior is what people look at\nnow-a-days.\u201d\n\nThe Flea then went into foreign service, where, it is said, he was\nkilled.\n\nThe Grasshopper sat without on a green bank, and reflected on worldly\nthings; and he said too, \u201cYes, a fine exterior is everything--a fine\nexterior is what people care about.\u201d And then he began chirping his\npeculiar melancholy song, from which we have taken this history; and\nwhich may, very possibly, be all untrue, although it does stand here\nprinted in black and white.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ELDERBUSH\n\nOnce upon a time there was a little boy who had taken cold. He had\ngone out and got his feet wet; though nobody could imagine how it had\nhappened, for it was quite dry weather. So his mother undressed him, put\nhim to bed, and had the tea-pot brought in, to make him a good cup of\nElderflower tea. Just at that moment the merry old man came in who\nlived up a-top of the house all alone; for he had neither wife nor\nchildren--but he liked children very much, and knew so many fairy tales,\nthat it was quite delightful.\n\n\u201cNow drink your tea,\u201d said the boy's mother; \u201cthen, perhaps, you may\nhear a fairy tale.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I had but something new to tell,\u201d said the old man. \u201cBut how did the\nchild get his feet wet?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is the very thing that nobody can make out,\u201d said his mother.\n\n\u201cAm I to hear a fairy tale?\u201d asked the little boy.\n\n\u201cYes, if you can tell me exactly--for I must know that first--how deep\nthe gutter is in the little street opposite, that you pass through in\ngoing to school.\u201d\n\n\u201cJust up to the middle of my boot,\u201d said the child; \u201cbut then I must go\ninto the deep hole.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, ah! That's where the wet feet came from,\u201d said the old man. \u201cI\nought now to tell you a story; but I don't know any more.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou can make one in a moment,\u201d said the little boy. \u201cMy mother says\nthat all you look at can be turned into a fairy tale: and that you can\nfind a story in everything.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but such tales and stories are good for nothing. The right sort\ncome of themselves; they tap at my forehead and say, 'Here we are.'\u201d\n\n\u201cWon't there be a tap soon?\u201d asked the little boy. And his mother\nlaughed, put some Elder-flowers in the tea-pot, and poured boiling water\nupon them.\n\n\u201cDo tell me something! Pray do!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, if a fairy tale would come of its own accord; but they are proud\nand haughty, and come only when they choose. Stop!\u201d said he, all on a\nsudden. \u201cI have it! Pay attention! There is one in the tea-pot!\u201d\n\nAnd the little boy looked at the tea-pot. The cover rose more and more;\nand the Elder-flowers came forth so fresh and white, and shot up long\nbranches. Out of the spout even did they spread themselves on all sides,\nand grew larger and larger; it was a splendid Elderbush, a whole tree;\nand it reached into the very bed, and pushed the curtains aside. How\nit bloomed! And what an odour! In the middle of the bush sat a\nfriendly-looking old woman in a most strange dress. It was quite\ngreen, like the leaves of the elder, and was trimmed with large white\nElder-flowers; so that at first one could not tell whether it was a\nstuff, or a natural green and real flowers.\n\n\u201cWhat's that woman's name?\u201d asked the little boy.\n\n\u201cThe Greeks and Romans,\u201d said the old man, \u201ccalled her a Dryad; but that\nwe do not understand. The people who live in the New Booths [*] have a much\nbetter name for her; they call her 'old Granny'--and she it is to\nwhom you are to pay attention. Now listen, and look at the beautiful\nElderbush.\n\n     * A row of buildings for seamen in Copenhagen.\n\n\u201cJust such another large blooming Elder Tree stands near the New Booths.\nIt grew there in the corner of a little miserable court-yard; and under\nit sat, of an afternoon, in the most splendid sunshine, two old\npeople; an old, old seaman, and his old, old wife. They had\ngreat-grand-children, and were soon to celebrate the fiftieth\nanniversary of their marriage; but they could not exactly recollect the\ndate: and old Granny sat in the tree, and looked as pleased as now. 'I\nknow the date,' said she; but those below did not hear her, for they\nwere talking about old times.\n\n\u201c'Yes, can't you remember when we were very little,' said the old\nseaman, 'and ran and played about? It was the very same court-yard where\nwe now are, and we stuck slips in the ground, and made a garden.'\n\n\u201c'I remember it well,' said the old woman; 'I remember it quite well. We\nwatered the slips, and one of them was an Elderbush. It took root, put\nforth green shoots, and grew up to be the large tree under which we old\nfolks are now sitting.'\n\n\u201c'To be sure,' said he. 'And there in the corner stood a waterpail,\nwhere I used to swim my boats.'\n\n\u201c'True; but first we went to school to learn somewhat,' said she; 'and\nthen we were confirmed. We both cried; but in the afternoon we went up\nthe Round Tower, and looked down on Copenhagen, and far, far away over\nthe water; then we went to Friedericksberg, where the King and the Queen\nwere sailing about in their splendid barges.'\n\n\u201c'But I had a different sort of sailing to that, later; and that, too,\nfor many a year; a long way off, on great voyages.'\n\n\u201c'Yes, many a time have I wept for your sake,' said she. 'I thought you\nwere dead and gone, and lying down in the deep waters. Many a night have\nI got up to see if the wind had not changed: and changed it had, sure\nenough; but you never came. I remember so well one day, when the rain\nwas pouring down in torrents, the scavengers were before the house where\nI was in service, and I had come up with the dust, and remained standing\nat the door--it was dreadful weather--when just as I was there, the\npostman came and gave me a letter. It was from you! What a tour that\nletter had made! I opened it instantly and read: I laughed and wept.\nI was so happy. In it I read that you were in warm lands where the\ncoffee-tree grows. What a blessed land that must be! You related so\nmuch, and I saw it all the while the rain was pouring down, and I\nstanding there with the dust-box. At the same moment came someone who\nembraced me.'\n\n\u201c'Yes; but you gave him a good box on his ear that made it tingle!'\n\n\u201c'But I did not know it was you. You arrived as soon as your letter,\nand you were so handsome--that you still are--and had a long yellow silk\nhandkerchief round your neck, and a bran new hat on; oh, you were so\ndashing! Good heavens! What weather it was, and what a state the street\nwas in!'\n\n\u201c'And then we married,' said he. 'Don't you remember? And then we\nhad our first little boy, and then Mary, and Nicholas, and Peter, and\nChristian.'\n\n\u201c'Yes, and how they all grew up to be honest people, and were beloved by\neverybody.'\n\n\u201c'And their children also have children,' said the old sailor; 'yes,\nthose are our grand-children, full of strength and vigor. It was,\nmethinks about this season that we had our wedding.'\n\n\u201c'Yes, this very day is the fiftieth anniversary of the marriage,' said\nold Granny, sticking her head between the two old people; who thought\nit was their neighbor who nodded to them. They looked at each other and\nheld one another by the hand. Soon after came their children, and their\ngrand-children; for they knew well enough that it was the day of the\nfiftieth anniversary, and had come with their gratulations that very\nmorning; but the old people had forgotten it, although they were able\nto remember all that had happened many years ago. And the Elderbush sent\nforth a strong odour in the sun, that was just about to set, and shone\nright in the old people's faces. They both looked so rosy-cheeked; and\nthe youngest of the grandchildren danced around them, and called out\nquite delighted, that there was to be something very splendid that\nevening--they were all to have hot potatoes. And old Nanny nodded in the\nbush, and shouted 'hurrah!' with the rest.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut that is no fairy tale,\u201d said the little boy, who was listening to\nthe story.\n\n\u201cThe thing is, you must understand it,\u201d said the narrator; \u201clet us ask\nold Nanny.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was no fairy tale, 'tis true,\u201d said old Nanny; \u201cbut now it's\ncoming. The most wonderful fairy tales grow out of that which is\nreality; were that not the case, you know, my magnificent Elderbush\ncould not have grown out of the tea-pot.\u201d And then she took the little\nboy out of bed, laid him on her bosom, and the branches of the Elder\nTree, full of flowers, closed around her. They sat in an aerial\ndwelling, and it flew with them through the air. Oh, it was wondrous\nbeautiful! Old Nanny had grown all of a sudden a young and pretty\nmaiden; but her robe was still the same green stuff with white flowers,\nwhich she had worn before. On her bosom she had a real Elderflower,\nand in her yellow waving hair a wreath of the flowers; her eyes were so\nlarge and blue that it was a pleasure to look at them; she kissed the\nboy, and now they were of the same age and felt alike.\n\nHand in hand they went out of the bower, and they were standing in the\nbeautiful garden of their home. Near the green lawn papa's walking-stick\nwas tied, and for the little ones it seemed to be endowed with life; for\nas soon as they got astride it, the round polished knob was turned into\na magnificent neighing head, a long black mane fluttered in the breeze,\nand four slender yet strong legs shot out. The animal was strong and\nhandsome, and away they went at full gallop round the lawn.\n\n\u201cHuzza! Now we are riding miles off,\u201d said the boy. \u201cWe are riding away\nto the castle where we were last year!\u201d\n\nAnd on they rode round the grass-plot; and the little maiden, who, we\nknow, was no one else but old Nanny, kept on crying out, \u201cNow we are in\nthe country! Don't you see the farm-house yonder? And there is an Elder\nTree standing beside it; and the cock is scraping away the earth for the\nhens, look, how he struts! And now we are close to the church. It lies\nhigh upon the hill, between the large oak-trees, one of which is half\ndecayed. And now we are by the smithy, where the fire is blazing, and\nwhere the half-naked men are banging with their hammers till the sparks\nfly about. Away! away! To the beautiful country-seat!\u201d\n\nAnd all that the little maiden, who sat behind on the stick, spoke of,\nflew by in reality. The boy saw it all, and yet they were only going\nround the grass-plot. Then they played in a side avenue, and marked out\na little garden on the earth; and they took Elder-blossoms from their\nhair, planted them, and they grew just like those the old people planted\nwhen they were children, as related before. They went hand in hand, as\nthe old people had done when they were children; but not to the Round\nTower, or to Friedericksberg; no, the little damsel wound her arms round\nthe boy, and then they flew far away through all Denmark. And spring\ncame, and summer; and then it was autumn, and then winter; and a\nthousand pictures were reflected in the eye and in the heart of the boy;\nand the little girl always sang to him, \u201cThis you will never forget.\u201d\n And during their whole flight the Elder Tree smelt so sweet and odorous;\nhe remarked the roses and the fresh beeches, but the Elder Tree had\na more wondrous fragrance, for its flowers hung on the breast of the\nlittle maiden; and there, too, did he often lay his head during the\nflight.\n\n\u201cIt is lovely here in spring!\u201d said the young maiden. And they stood in\na beech-wood that had just put on its first green, where the woodroof [*]\nat their feet sent forth its fragrance, and the pale-red anemony looked\nso pretty among the verdure. \u201cOh, would it were always spring in the\nsweetly-smelling Danish beech-forests!\u201d\n\n     * Asperula odorata.\n\n\u201cIt is lovely here in summer!\u201d said she. And she flew past old castles\nof by-gone days of chivalry, where the red walls and the embattled\ngables were mirrored in the canal, where the swans were swimming, and\npeered up into the old cool avenues. In the fields the corn was waving\nlike the sea; in the ditches red and yellow flowers were growing; while\nwild-drone flowers, and blooming convolvuluses were creeping in the\nhedges; and towards evening the moon rose round and large, and the\nhaycocks in the meadows smelt so sweetly. \u201cThis one never forgets!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is lovely here in autumn!\u201d said the little maiden. And suddenly the\natmosphere grew as blue again as before; the forest grew red, and green,\nand yellow-colored. The dogs came leaping along, and whole flocks of\nwild-fowl flew over the cairn, where blackberry-bushes were hanging\nround the old stones. The sea was dark blue, covered with ships full\nof white sails; and in the barn old women, maidens, and children were\nsitting picking hops into a large cask; the young sang songs, but the\nold told fairy tales of mountain-sprites and soothsayers. Nothing could\nbe more charming.\n\n\u201cIt is delightful here in winter!\u201d said the little maiden. And all the\ntrees were covered with hoar-frost; they looked like white corals; the\nsnow crackled under foot, as if one had new boots on; and one falling\nstar after the other was seen in the sky. The Christmas-tree was lighted\nin the room; presents were there, and good-humor reigned. In the country\nthe violin sounded in the room of the peasant; the newly-baked cakes\nwere attacked; even the poorest child said, \u201cIt is really delightful\nhere in winter!\u201d\n\nYes, it was delightful; and the little maiden showed the boy everything;\nand the Elder Tree still was fragrant, and the red flag, with the white\ncross, was still waving: the flag under which the old seaman in the New\nBooths had sailed. And the boy grew up to be a lad, and was to go forth\nin the wide world-far, far away to warm lands, where the coffee-tree\ngrows; but at his departure the little maiden took an Elder-blossom from\nher bosom, and gave it him to keep; and it was placed between the leaves\nof his Prayer-Book; and when in foreign lands he opened the book, it\nwas always at the place where the keepsake-flower lay; and the more he\nlooked at it, the fresher it became; he felt as it were, the fragrance\nof the Danish groves; and from among the leaves of the flowers he could\ndistinctly see the little maiden, peeping forth with her bright blue\neyes--and then she whispered, \u201cIt is delightful here in Spring, Summer,\nAutumn, and Winter\u201d; and a hundred visions glided before his mind.\n\nThus passed many years, and he was now an old man, and sat with his old\nwife under the blooming tree. They held each other by the hand, as the\nold grand-father and grand-mother yonder in the New Booths did, and they\ntalked exactly like them of old times, and of the fiftieth anniversary\nof their wedding. The little maiden, with the blue eyes, and with\nElder-blossoms in her hair, sat in the tree, nodded to both of them,\nand said, \u201cTo-day is the fiftieth anniversary!\u201d And then she took two\nflowers out of her hair, and kissed them. First, they shone like silver,\nthen like gold; and when they laid them on the heads of the old people,\neach flower became a golden crown. So there they both sat, like a king\nand a queen, under the fragrant tree, that looked exactly like an elder:\nthe old man told his wife the story of \u201cOld Nanny,\u201d as it had been told\nhim when a boy. And it seemed to both of them it contained much that\nresembled their own history; and those parts that were like it pleased\nthem best.\n\n\u201cThus it is,\u201d said the little maiden in the tree, \u201csome call me 'Old\nNanny,' others a 'Dryad,' but, in reality, my name is 'Remembrance';\n'tis I who sit in the tree that grows and grows! I can remember; I can\ntell things! Let me see if you have my flower still?\u201d\n\nAnd the old man opened his Prayer-Book. There lay the Elder-blossom,\nas fresh as if it had been placed there but a short time before; and\nRemembrance nodded, and the old people, decked with crowns of gold, sat\nin the flush of the evening sun. They closed their eyes, and--and--!\nYes, that's the end of the story!\n\nThe little boy lay in his bed; he did not know if he had dreamed or\nnot, or if he had been listening while someone told him the story. The\ntea-pot was standing on the table, but no Elder Tree was growing out\nof it! And the old man, who had been talking, was just on the point of\ngoing out at the door, and he did go.\n\n\u201cHow splendid that was!\u201d said the little boy. \u201cMother, I have been to\nwarm countries.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo I should think,\u201d said his mother. \u201cWhen one has drunk two good\ncupfuls of Elder-flower tea, 'tis likely enough one goes into warm\nclimates\u201d; and she tucked him up nicely, least he should take cold. \u201cYou\nhave had a good sleep while I have been sitting here, and arguing with\nhim whether it was a story or a fairy tale.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd where is old Nanny?\u201d asked the little boy.\n\n\u201cIn the tea-pot,\u201d said his mother; \u201cand there she may remain.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE BELL\n\nPeople said \u201cThe Evening Bell is sounding, the sun is setting.\u201d For a\nstrange wondrous tone was heard in the narrow streets of a large town.\nIt was like the sound of a church-bell: but it was only heard for a\nmoment, for the rolling of the carriages and the voices of the multitude\nmade too great a noise.\n\nThose persons who were walking outside the town, where the houses were\nfarther apart, with gardens or little fields between them, could see\nthe evening sky still better, and heard the sound of the bell much\nmore distinctly. It was as if the tones came from a church in the still\nforest; people looked thitherward, and felt their minds attuned most\nsolemnly.\n\nA long time passed, and people said to each other--\u201cI wonder if there\nis a church out in the wood? The bell has a tone that is wondrous sweet;\nlet us stroll thither, and examine the matter nearer.\u201d And the rich\npeople drove out, and the poor walked, but the way seemed strangely\nlong to them; and when they came to a clump of willows which grew on the\nskirts of the forest, they sat down, and looked up at the long\nbranches, and fancied they were now in the depth of the green wood. The\nconfectioner of the town came out, and set up his booth there; and soon\nafter came another confectioner, who hung a bell over his stand, as\na sign or ornament, but it had no clapper, and it was tarred over to\npreserve it from the rain. When all the people returned home, they said\nit had been very romantic, and that it was quite a different sort of\nthing to a pic-nic or tea-party. There were three persons who asserted\nthey had penetrated to the end of the forest, and that they had always\nheard the wonderful sounds of the bell, but it had seemed to them as if\nit had come from the town. One wrote a whole poem about it, and said the\nbell sounded like the voice of a mother to a good dear child, and\nthat no melody was sweeter than the tones of the bell. The king of the\ncountry was also observant of it, and vowed that he who could discover\nwhence the sounds proceeded, should have the title of \u201cUniversal\nBell-ringer,\u201d even if it were not really a bell.\n\nMany persons now went to the wood, for the sake of getting the place,\nbut one only returned with a sort of explanation; for nobody went far\nenough, that one not further than the others. However, he said that\nthe sound proceeded from a very large owl, in a hollow tree; a sort of\nlearned owl, that continually knocked its head against the branches. But\nwhether the sound came from his head or from the hollow tree, that no\none could say with certainty. So now he got the place of \u201cUniversal\nBell-ringer,\u201d and wrote yearly a short treatise \u201cOn the Owl\u201d; but\neverybody was just as wise as before.\n\nIt was the day of confirmation. The clergyman had spoken so touchingly,\nthe children who were confirmed had been greatly moved; it was\nan eventful day for them; from children they become all at once\ngrown-up-persons; it was as if their infant souls were now to fly all\nat once into persons with more understanding. The sun was shining\ngloriously; the children that had been confirmed went out of the town;\nand from the wood was borne towards them the sounds of the unknown bell\nwith wonderful distinctness. They all immediately felt a wish to go\nthither; all except three. One of them had to go home to try on a\nball-dress; for it was just the dress and the ball which had caused her\nto be confirmed this time, for otherwise she would not have come;\nthe other was a poor boy, who had borrowed his coat and boots to be\nconfirmed in from the innkeeper's son, and he was to give them back by\na certain hour; the third said that he never went to a strange place\nif his parents were not with him--that he had always been a good boy\nhitherto, and would still be so now that he was confirmed, and that one\nought not to laugh at him for it: the others, however, did make fun of\nhim, after all.\n\nThere were three, therefore, that did not go; the others hastened on.\nThe sun shone, the birds sang, and the children sang too, and each held\nthe other by the hand; for as yet they had none of them any high office,\nand were all of equal rank in the eye of God.\n\nBut two of the youngest soon grew tired, and both returned to town; two\nlittle girls sat down, and twined garlands, so they did not go either;\nand when the others reached the willow-tree, where the confectioner was,\nthey said, \u201cNow we are there! In reality the bell does not exist; it is\nonly a fancy that people have taken into their heads!\u201d\n\nAt the same moment the bell sounded deep in the wood, so clear and\nsolemnly that five or six determined to penetrate somewhat further. It\nwas so thick, and the foliage so dense, that it was quite fatiguing\nto proceed. Woodroof and anemonies grew almost too high; blooming\nconvolvuluses and blackberry-bushes hung in long garlands from tree to\ntree, where the nightingale sang and the sunbeams were playing: it was\nvery beautiful, but it was no place for girls to go; their clothes would\nget so torn. Large blocks of stone lay there, overgrown with moss of\nevery color; the fresh spring bubbled forth, and made a strange gurgling\nsound.\n\n\u201cThat surely cannot be the bell,\u201d said one of the children, lying down\nand listening. \u201cThis must be looked to.\u201d So he remained, and let the\nothers go on without him.\n\nThey afterwards came to a little house, made of branches and the bark of\ntrees; a large wild apple-tree bent over it, as if it would shower down\nall its blessings on the roof, where roses were blooming. The long stems\ntwined round the gable, on which there hung a small bell.\n\nWas it that which people had heard? Yes, everybody was unanimous on the\nsubject, except one, who said that the bell was too small and too fine\nto be heard at so great a distance, and besides it was very different\ntones to those that could move a human heart in such a manner. It was a\nking's son who spoke; whereon the others said, \u201cSuch people always want\nto be wiser than everybody else.\u201d\n\nThey now let him go on alone; and as he went, his breast was filled more\nand more with the forest solitude; but he still heard the little bell\nwith which the others were so satisfied, and now and then, when the\nwind blew, he could also hear the people singing who were sitting at tea\nwhere the confectioner had his tent; but the deep sound of the bell rose\nlouder; it was almost as if an organ were accompanying it, and the tones\ncame from the left hand, the side where the heart is placed. A rustling\nwas heard in the bushes, and a little boy stood before the King's Son, a\nboy in wooden shoes, and with so short a jacket that one could see what\nlong wrists he had. Both knew each other: the boy was that one among\nthe children who could not come because he had to go home and return his\njacket and boots to the innkeeper's son. This he had done, and was now\ngoing on in wooden shoes and in his humble dress, for the bell sounded\nwith so deep a tone, and with such strange power, that proceed he must.\n\n\u201cWhy, then, we can go together,\u201d said the King's Son. But the poor\nchild that had been confirmed was quite ashamed; he looked at his wooden\nshoes, pulled at the short sleeves of his jacket, and said that he was\nafraid he could not walk so fast; besides, he thought that the bell must\nbe looked for to the right; for that was the place where all sorts of\nbeautiful things were to be found.\n\n\u201cBut there we shall not meet,\u201d said the King's Son, nodding at the same\ntime to the poor boy, who went into the darkest, thickest part of the\nwood, where thorns tore his humble dress, and scratched his face and\nhands and feet till they bled. The King's Son got some scratches too;\nbut the sun shone on his path, and it is him that we will follow, for he\nwas an excellent and resolute youth.\n\n\u201cI must and will find the bell,\u201d said he, \u201ceven if I am obliged to go to\nthe end of the world.\u201d\n\nThe ugly apes sat upon the trees, and grinned. \u201cShall we thrash him?\u201d\n said they. \u201cShall we thrash him? He is the son of a king!\u201d\n\nBut on he went, without being disheartened, deeper and deeper into the\nwood, where the most wonderful flowers were growing. There stood white\nlilies with blood-red stamina, skyblue tulips, which shone as they waved\nin the winds, and apple-trees, the apples of which looked exactly like\nlarge soapbubbles: so only think how the trees must have sparkled in the\nsunshine! Around the nicest green meads, where the deer were playing in\nthe grass, grew magnificent oaks and beeches; and if the bark of one of\nthe trees was cracked, there grass and long creeping plants grew in\nthe crevices. And there were large calm lakes there too, in which white\nswans were swimming, and beat the air with their wings. The King's Son\noften stood still and listened. He thought the bell sounded from the\ndepths of these still lakes; but then he remarked again that the tone\nproceeded not from there, but farther off, from out the depths of the\nforest.\n\nThe sun now set: the atmosphere glowed like fire. It was still in the\nwoods, so very still; and he fell on his knees, sung his evening hymn,\nand said: \u201cI cannot find what I seek; the sun is going down, and night\nis coming--the dark, dark night. Yet perhaps I may be able once more\nto see the round red sun before he entirely disappears. I will climb up\nyonder rock.\u201d\n\nAnd he seized hold of the creeping-plants, and the roots of\ntrees--climbed up the moist stones where the water-snakes were writhing\nand the toads were croaking--and he gained the summit before the sun\nhad quite gone down. How magnificent was the sight from this height! The\nsea--the great, the glorious sea, that dashed its long waves against the\ncoast--was stretched out before him. And yonder, where sea and sky meet,\nstood the sun, like a large shining altar, all melted together in the\nmost glowing colors. And the wood and the sea sang a song of rejoicing,\nand his heart sang with the rest: all nature was a vast holy church,\nin which the trees and the buoyant clouds were the pillars, flowers and\ngrass the velvet carpeting, and heaven itself the large cupola. The red\ncolors above faded away as the sun vanished, but a million stars were\nlighted, a million lamps shone; and the King's Son spread out his arms\ntowards heaven, and wood, and sea; when at the same moment, coming by\na path to the right, appeared, in his wooden shoes and jacket, the poor\nboy who had been confirmed with him. He had followed his own path, and\nhad reached the spot just as soon as the son of the king had done. They\nran towards each other, and stood together hand in hand in the vast\nchurch of nature and of poetry, while over them sounded the invisible\nholy bell: blessed spirits floated around them, and lifted up their\nvoices in a rejoicing hallelujah!\n\n\n\n\nTHE OLD HOUSE\n\nIn the street, up there, was an old, a very old house--it was almost\nthree hundred years old, for that might be known by reading the great\nbeam on which the date of the year was carved: together with tulips and\nhop-binds there were whole verses spelled as in former times, and over\nevery window was a distorted face cut out in the beam. The one story\nstood forward a great way over the other; and directly under the eaves\nwas a leaden spout with a dragon's head; the rain-water should have run\nout of the mouth, but it ran out of the belly, for there was a hole in\nthe spout.\n\nAll the other houses in the street were so new and so neat, with large\nwindow panes and smooth walls, one could easily see that they would have\nnothing to do with the old house: they certainly thought, \u201cHow long is\nthat old decayed thing to stand here as a spectacle in the street? And\nthen the projecting windows stand so far out, that no one can see from\nour windows what happens in that direction! The steps are as broad as\nthose of a palace, and as high as to a church tower. The iron railings\nlook just like the door to an old family vault, and then they have brass\ntops--that's so stupid!\u201d\n\nOn the other side of the street were also new and neat houses, and they\nthought just as the others did; but at the window opposite the old house\nthere sat a little boy with fresh rosy cheeks and bright beaming eyes:\nhe certainly liked the old house best, and that both in sunshine and\nmoonshine. And when he looked across at the wall where the mortar\nhad fallen out, he could sit and find out there the strangest figures\nimaginable; exactly as the street had appeared before, with steps,\nprojecting windows, and pointed gables; he could see soldiers with\nhalberds, and spouts where the water ran, like dragons and serpents.\nThat was a house to look at; and there lived an old man, who wore plush\nbreeches; and he had a coat with large brass buttons, and a wig that one\ncould see was a real wig. Every morning there came an old fellow to him\nwho put his rooms in order, and went on errands; otherwise, the old man\nin the plush breeches was quite alone in the old house. Now and then he\ncame to the window and looked out, and the little boy nodded to him,\nand the old man nodded again, and so they became acquaintances, and then\nthey were friends, although they had never spoken to each other--but\nthat made no difference. The little boy heard his parents say, \u201cThe old\nman opposite is very well off, but he is so very, very lonely!\u201d\n\nThe Sunday following, the little boy took something, and wrapped it up\nin a piece of paper, went downstairs, and stood in the doorway; and when\nthe man who went on errands came past, he said to him--\n\n\u201cI say, master! will you give this to the old man over the way from me?\nI have two pewter soldiers--this is one of them, and he shall have it,\nfor I know he is so very, very lonely.\u201d\n\nAnd the old errand man looked quite pleased, nodded, and took the pewter\nsoldier over to the old house. Afterwards there came a message; it was\nto ask if the little boy himself had not a wish to come over and pay a\nvisit; and so he got permission of his parents, and then went over to\nthe old house.\n\nAnd the brass balls on the iron railings shone much brighter than ever;\none would have thought they were polished on account of the visit; and\nit was as if the carved-out trumpeters--for there were trumpeters, who\nstood in tulips, carved out on the door--blew with all their\nmight, their cheeks appeared so much rounder than before. Yes, they\nblew--\u201cTrateratra! The little boy comes! Trateratra!\u201d--and then the door\nopened.\n\nThe whole passage was hung with portraits of knights in armor, and\nladies in silken gowns; and the armor rattled, and the silken gowns\nrustled! And then there was a flight of stairs which went a good way\nupwards, and a little way downwards, and then one came on a balcony\nwhich was in a very dilapidated state, sure enough, with large holes and\nlong crevices, but grass grew there and leaves out of them altogether,\nfor the whole balcony outside, the yard, and the walls, were overgrown\nwith so much green stuff, that it looked like a garden; only a balcony.\nHere stood old flower-pots with faces and asses' ears, and the flowers\ngrew just as they liked. One of the pots was quite overrun on all sides\nwith pinks, that is to say, with the green part; shoot stood by shoot,\nand it said quite distinctly, \u201cThe air has cherished me, the sun has\nkissed me, and promised me a little flower on Sunday! a little flower on\nSunday!\u201d\n\nAnd then they entered a chamber where the walls were covered with hog's\nleather, and printed with gold flowers.\n\n   \u201cThe gilding decays,\n   But hog's leather stays!\u201d\n\nsaid the walls.\n\nAnd there stood easy-chairs, with such high backs, and so carved out,\nand with arms on both sides. \u201cSit down! sit down!\u201d said they. \u201cUgh! how\nI creak; now I shall certainly get the gout, like the old clothespress,\nugh!\u201d\n\nAnd then the little boy came into the room where the projecting windows\nwere, and where the old man sat.\n\n\u201cI thank you for the pewter soldier, my little friend!\u201d said the old\nman. \u201cAnd I thank you because you come over to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThankee! thankee!\u201d or \u201ccranky! cranky!\u201d sounded from all the furniture;\nthere was so much of it, that each article stood in the other's way, to\nget a look at the little boy.\n\nIn the middle of the wall hung a picture representing a beautiful lady,\nso young, so glad, but dressed quite as in former times, with clothes\nthat stood quite stiff, and with powder in her hair; she neither said\n\u201cthankee, thankee!\u201d nor \u201ccranky, cranky!\u201d but looked with her mild eyes\nat the little boy, who directly asked the old man, \u201cWhere did you get\nher?\u201d\n\n\u201cYonder, at the broker's,\u201d said the old man, \u201cwhere there are so many\npictures hanging. No one knows or cares about them, for they are all of\nthem buried; but I knew her in by-gone days, and now she has been dead\nand gone these fifty years!\u201d\n\nUnder the picture, in a glazed frame, there hung a bouquet of withered\nflowers; they were almost fifty years old; they looked so very old!\n\nThe pendulum of the great clock went to and fro, and the hands turned,\nand everything in the room became still older; but they did not observe\nit.\n\n\u201cThey say at home,\u201d said the little boy, \u201cthat you are so very, very\nlonely!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d said he. \u201cThe old thoughts, with what they may bring with them,\ncome and visit me, and now you also come! I am very well off!\u201d\n\nThen he took a book with pictures in it down from the shelf; there were\nwhole long processions and pageants, with the strangest characters,\nwhich one never sees now-a-days; soldiers like the knave of clubs,\nand citizens with waving flags: the tailors had theirs, with a pair of\nshears held by two lions--and the shoemakers theirs, without boots,\nbut with an eagle that had two heads, for the shoemakers must have\neverything so that they can say, it is a pair! Yes, that was a picture\nbook!\n\nThe old man now went into the other room to fetch preserves, apples, and\nnuts--yes, it was delightful over there in the old house.\n\n\u201cI cannot bear it any longer!\u201d said the pewter soldier, who sat on the\ndrawers. \u201cIt is so lonely and melancholy here! But when one has been in\na family circle one cannot accustom oneself to this life! I cannot bear\nit any longer! The whole day is so long, and the evenings are still\nlonger! Here it is not at all as it is over the way at your home, where\nyour father and mother spoke so pleasantly, and where you and all your\nsweet children made such a delightful noise. Nay, how lonely the old man\nis--do you think that he gets kisses? Do you think he gets mild eyes,\nor a Christmas tree? He will get nothing but a grave! I can bear it no\nlonger!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must not let it grieve you so much,\u201d said the little boy. \u201cI find\nit so very delightful here, and then all the old thoughts, with what\nthey may bring with them, they come and visit here.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, it's all very well, but I see nothing of them, and I don't know\nthem!\u201d said the pewter soldier. \u201cI cannot bear it!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you must!\u201d said the little boy.\n\nThen in came the old man with the most pleased and happy face, the most\ndelicious preserves, apples, and nuts, and so the little boy thought no\nmore about the pewter soldier.\n\nThe little boy returned home happy and pleased, and weeks and days\npassed away, and nods were made to the old house, and from the old\nhouse, and then the little boy went over there again.\n\nThe carved trumpeters blew, \u201cTrateratra! There is the little boy!\nTrateratra!\u201d and the swords and armor on the knights' portraits rattled,\nand the silk gowns rustled; the hog's leather spoke, and the old chairs\nhad the gout in their legs and rheumatism in their backs: Ugh! it was\nexactly like the first time, for over there one day and hour was just\nlike another.\n\n\u201cI cannot bear it!\u201d said the pewter soldier. \u201cI have shed pewter tears!\nIt is too melancholy! Rather let me go to the wars and lose arms and\nlegs! It would at least be a change. I cannot bear it longer! Now, I\nknow what it is to have a visit from one's old thoughts, with what they\nmay bring with them! I have had a visit from mine, and you may be sure\nit is no pleasant thing in the end; I was at last about to jump down\nfrom the drawers.\n\n\u201cI saw you all over there at home so distinctly, as if you really were\nhere; it was again that Sunday morning; all you children stood before\nthe table and sung your Psalms, as you do every morning. You stood\ndevoutly with folded hands; and father and mother were just as pious;\nand then the door was opened, and little sister Mary, who is not two\nyears old yet, and who always dances when she hears music or singing, of\nwhatever kind it may be, was put into the room--though she ought not to\nhave been there--and then she began to dance, but could not keep time,\nbecause the tones were so long; and then she stood, first on the one\nleg, and bent her head forwards, and then on the other leg, and bent\nher head forwards--but all would not do. You stood very seriously all\ntogether, although it was difficult enough; but I laughed to myself, and\nthen I fell off the table, and got a bump, which I have still--for it\nwas not right of me to laugh. But the whole now passes before me again\nin thought, and everything that I have lived to see; and these are the\nold thoughts, with what they may bring with them.\n\n\u201cTell me if you still sing on Sundays? Tell me something about little\nMary! And how my comrade, the other pewter soldier, lives! Yes, he is\nhappy enough, that's sure! I cannot bear it any longer!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are given away as a present!\u201d said the little boy. \u201cYou must\nremain. Can you not understand that?\u201d\n\nThe old man now came with a drawer, in which there was much to be seen,\nboth \u201ctin boxes\u201d and \u201cbalsam boxes,\u201d old cards, so large and so gilded,\nsuch as one never sees them now. And several drawers were opened, and\nthe piano was opened; it had landscapes on the inside of the lid, and it\nwas so hoarse when the old man played on it! and then he hummed a song.\n\n\u201cYes, she could sing that!\u201d said he, and nodded to the portrait, which\nhe had bought at the broker's, and the old man's eyes shone so bright!\n\n\u201cI will go to the wars! I will go to the wars!\u201d shouted the pewter\nsoldier as loud as he could, and threw himself off the drawers right\ndown on the floor. What became of him? The old man sought, and the\nlittle boy sought; he was away, and he stayed away.\n\n\u201cI shall find him!\u201d said the old man; but he never found him. The floor\nwas too open--the pewter soldier had fallen through a crevice, and there\nhe lay as in an open tomb.\n\nThat day passed, and the little boy went home, and that week passed,\nand several weeks too. The windows were quite frozen, the little boy was\nobliged to sit and breathe on them to get a peep-hole over to the old\nhouse, and there the snow had been blown into all the carved work and\ninscriptions; it lay quite up over the steps, just as if there was no\none at home--nor was there any one at home--the old man was dead!\n\nIn the evening there was a hearse seen before the door, and he was borne\ninto it in his coffin: he was now to go out into the country, to lie in\nhis grave. He was driven out there, but no one followed; all his friends\nwere dead, and the little boy kissed his hand to the coffin as it was\ndriven away.\n\nSome days afterwards there was an auction at the old house, and the\nlittle boy saw from his window how they carried the old knights and the\nold ladies away, the flower-pots with the long ears, the old chairs, and\nthe old clothes-presses. Something came here, and something came there;\nthe portrait of her who had been found at the broker's came to the\nbroker's again; and there it hung, for no one knew her more--no one\ncared about the old picture.\n\nIn the spring they pulled the house down, for, as people said, it was\na ruin. One could see from the street right into the room with the\nhog's-leather hanging, which was slashed and torn; and the green grass\nand leaves about the balcony hung quite wild about the falling beams.\nAnd then it was put to rights.\n\n\u201cThat was a relief,\u201d said the neighboring houses.\n\nA fine house was built there, with large windows, and smooth white\nwalls; but before it, where the old house had in fact stood, was a\nlittle garden laid out, and a wild grapevine ran up the wall of the\nneighboring house. Before the garden there was a large iron railing\nwith an iron door, it looked quite splendid, and people stood still and\npeeped in, and the sparrows hung by scores in the vine, and chattered\naway at each other as well as they could, but it was not about the old\nhouse, for they could not remember it, so many years had passed--so many\nthat the little boy had grown up to a whole man, yes, a clever man, and\na pleasure to his parents; and he had just been married, and, together\nwith his little wife, had come to live in the house here, where the\ngarden was; and he stood by her there whilst she planted a field-flower\nthat she found so pretty; she planted it with her little hand, and\npressed the earth around it with her fingers. Oh! what was that? She\nhad stuck herself. There sat something pointed, straight out of the soft\nmould.\n\nIt was--yes, guess! It was the pewter soldier, he that was lost up at\nthe old man's, and had tumbled and turned about amongst the timber and\nthe rubbish, and had at last laid for many years in the ground.\n\nThe young wife wiped the dirt off the soldier, first with a green leaf,\nand then with her fine handkerchief--it had such a delightful smell,\nthat it was to the pewter soldier just as if he had awaked from a\ntrance.\n\n\u201cLet me see him,\u201d said the young man. He laughed, and then shook his\nhead. \u201cNay, it cannot be he; but he reminds me of a story about a pewter\nsoldier which I had when I was a little boy!\u201d And then he told his wife\nabout the old house, and the old man, and about the pewter soldier that\nhe sent over to him because he was so very, very lonely; and he told it\nas correctly as it had really been, so that the tears came into the eyes\nof his young wife, on account of the old house and the old man.\n\n\u201cIt may possibly be, however, that it is the same pewter soldier!\u201d said\nshe. \u201cI will take care of it, and remember all that you have told me;\nbut you must show me the old man's grave!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I do not know it,\u201d said he, \u201cand no one knows it! All his friends\nwere dead, no one took care of it, and I was then a little boy!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow very, very lonely he must have been!\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cVery, very lonely!\u201d said the pewter soldier. \u201cBut it is delightful not\nto be forgotten!\u201d\n\n\u201cDelightful!\u201d shouted something close by; but no one, except the pewter\nsoldier, saw that it was a piece of the hog's-leather hangings; it had\nlost all its gilding, it looked like a piece of wet clay, but it had an\nopinion, and it gave it:\n\n   \u201cThe gilding decays,\n   But hog's leather stays!\u201d\n\nThis the pewter soldier did not believe.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HAPPY FAMILY\n\nReally, the largest green leaf in this country is a dock-leaf; if one\nholds it before one, it is like a whole apron, and if one holds it over\none's head in rainy weather, it is almost as good as an umbrella, for\nit is so immensely large. The burdock never grows alone, but where there\ngrows one there always grow several: it is a great delight, and all this\ndelightfulness is snails' food. The great white snails which persons of\nquality in former times made fricassees of, ate, and said, \u201cHem,\nhem! how delicious!\u201d for they thought it tasted so delicate--lived on\ndock-leaves, and therefore burdock seeds were sown.\n\nNow, there was an old manor-house, where they no longer ate snails, they\nwere quite extinct; but the burdocks were not extinct, they grew and\ngrew all over the walks and all the beds; they could not get the mastery\nover them--it was a whole forest of burdocks. Here and there stood an\napple and a plum-tree, or else one never would have thought that it was\na garden; all was burdocks, and there lived the two last venerable old\nsnails.\n\nThey themselves knew not how old they were, but they could remember\nvery well that there had been many more; that they were of a family\nfrom foreign lands, and that for them and theirs the whole forest was\nplanted. They had never been outside it, but they knew that there was\nstill something more in the world, which was called the manor-house, and\nthat there they were boiled, and then they became black, and were then\nplaced on a silver dish; but what happened further they knew not; or, in\nfact, what it was to be boiled, and to lie on a silver dish, they could\nnot possibly imagine; but it was said to be delightful, and particularly\ngenteel. Neither the chafers, the toads, nor the earth-worms, whom they\nasked about it could give them any information--none of them had been\nboiled or laid on a silver dish.\n\nThe old white snails were the first persons of distinction in the\nworld, that they knew; the forest was planted for their sake, and the\nmanor-house was there that they might be boiled and laid on a silver\ndish.\n\nNow they lived a very lonely and happy life; and as they had no children\nthemselves, they had adopted a little common snail, which they brought\nup as their own; but the little one would not grow, for he was of a\ncommon family; but the old ones, especially Dame Mother Snail, thought\nthey could observe how he increased in size, and she begged father,\nif he could not see it, that he would at least feel the little snail's\nshell; and then he felt it, and found the good dame was right.\n\nOne day there was a heavy storm of rain.\n\n\u201cHear how it beats like a drum on the dock-leaves!\u201d said Father Snail.\n\n\u201cThere are also rain-drops!\u201d said Mother Snail. \u201cAnd now the rain pours\nright down the stalk! You will see that it will be wet here! I am very\nhappy to think that we have our good house, and the little one has\nhis also! There is more done for us than for all other creatures, sure\nenough; but can you not see that we are folks of quality in the world?\nWe are provided with a house from our birth, and the burdock forest is\nplanted for our sakes! I should like to know how far it extends, and\nwhat there is outside!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is nothing at all,\u201d said Father Snail. \u201cNo place can be better\nthan ours, and I have nothing to wish for!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the dame. \u201cI would willingly go to the manorhouse, be\nboiled, and laid on a silver dish; all our forefathers have been treated\nso; there is something extraordinary in it, you may be sure!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe manor-house has most likely fallen to ruin!\u201d said Father Snail. \u201cOr\nthe burdocks have grown up over it, so that they cannot come out. There\nneed not, however, be any haste about that; but you are always in such a\ntremendous hurry, and the little one is beginning to be the same. Has he\nnot been creeping up that stalk these three days? It gives me a headache\nwhen I look up to him!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must not scold him,\u201d said Mother Snail. \u201cHe creeps so carefully; he\nwill afford us much pleasure--and we have nothing but him to live for!\nBut have you not thought of it? Where shall we get a wife for him? Do\nyou not think that there are some of our species at a great distance in\nthe interior of the burdock forest?\u201d\n\n\u201cBlack snails, I dare say, there are enough of,\u201d said the old one.\n\u201cBlack snails without a house--but they are so common, and so conceited.\nBut we might give the ants a commission to look out for us; they run\nto and fro as if they had something to do, and they certainly know of a\nwife for our little snail!\u201d\n\n\u201cI know one, sure enough--the most charming one!\u201d said one of the ants.\n\u201cBut I am afraid we shall hardly succeed, for she is a queen!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is nothing!\u201d said the old folks. \u201cHas she a house?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe has a palace!\u201d said the ant. \u201cThe finest ant's palace, with seven\nhundred passages!\u201d\n\n\u201cI thank you!\u201d said Mother Snail. \u201cOur son shall not go into an\nant-hill; if you know nothing better than that, we shall give the\ncommission to the white gnats. They fly far and wide, in rain and\nsunshine; they know the whole forest here, both within and without.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have a wife for him,\u201d said the gnats. \u201cAt a hundred human paces from\nhere there sits a little snail in her house, on a gooseberry bush; she\nis quite lonely, and old enough to be married. It is only a hundred\nhuman paces!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, let her come to him!\u201d said the old ones. \u201cHe has a whole\nforest of burdocks, she has only a bush!\u201d\n\nAnd so they went and fetched little Miss Snail. It was a whole week\nbefore she arrived; but therein was just the very best of it, for one\ncould thus see that she was of the same species.\n\nAnd then the marriage was celebrated. Six earth-worms shone as well as\nthey could. In other respects the whole went off very quietly, for the\nold folks could not bear noise and merriment; but old Dame Snail made\na brilliant speech. Father Snail could not speak, he was too much\naffected; and so they gave them as a dowry and inheritance, the whole\nforest of burdocks, and said--what they had always said--that it was\nthe best in the world; and if they lived honestly and decently, and\nincreased and multiplied, they and their children would once in the\ncourse of time come to the manor-house, be boiled black, and laid on\nsilver dishes. After this speech was made, the old ones crept into their\nshells, and never more came out. They slept; the young couple governed\nin the forest, and had a numerous progeny, but they were never boiled,\nand never came on the silver dishes; so from this they concluded that\nthe manor-house had fallen to ruins, and that all the men in the world\nwere extinct; and as no one contradicted them, so, of course it was so.\nAnd the rain beat on the dock-leaves to make drum-music for their sake,\nand the sun shone in order to give the burdock forest a color for their\nsakes; and they were very happy, and the whole family was happy; for\nthey, indeed were so.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF A MOTHER\n\nA mother sat there with her little child. She was so downcast, so\nafraid that it should die! It was so pale, the small eyes had closed\nthemselves, and it drew its breath so softly, now and then, with a\ndeep respiration, as if it sighed; and the mother looked still more\nsorrowfully on the little creature.\n\nThen a knocking was heard at the door, and in came a poor old man\nwrapped up as in a large horse-cloth, for it warms one, and he needed\nit, as it was the cold winter season! Everything out-of-doors was\ncovered with ice and snow, and the wind blew so that it cut the face.\n\nAs the old man trembled with cold, and the little child slept a moment,\nthe mother went and poured some ale into a pot and set it on the stove,\nthat it might be warm for him; the old man sat and rocked the cradle,\nand the mother sat down on a chair close by him, and looked at her\nlittle sick child that drew its breath so deep, and raised its little\nhand.\n\n\u201cDo you not think that I shall save him?\u201d said she. \u201cOur Lord will not\ntake him from me!\u201d\n\nAnd the old man--it was Death himself--he nodded so strangely, it could\njust as well signify yes as no. And the mother looked down in her lap,\nand the tears ran down over her cheeks; her head became so heavy--she\nhad not closed her eyes for three days and nights; and now she slept,\nbut only for a minute, when she started up and trembled with cold.\n\n\u201cWhat is that?\u201d said she, and looked on all sides; but the old man was\ngone, and her little child was gone--he had taken it with him; and the\nold clock in the corner burred, and burred, the great leaden weight ran\ndown to the floor, bump! and then the clock also stood still.\n\nBut the poor mother ran out of the house and cried aloud for her child.\n\nOut there, in the midst of the snow, there sat a woman in long, black\nclothes; and she said, \u201cDeath has been in thy chamber, and I saw him\nhasten away with thy little child; he goes faster than the wind, and he\nnever brings back what he takes!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, only tell me which way he went!\u201d said the mother. \u201cTell me the way,\nand I shall find him!\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it!\u201d said the woman in the black clothes. \u201cBut before I tell it,\nthou must first sing for me all the songs thou hast sung for thy child!\nI am fond of them. I have heard them before; I am Night; I saw thy tears\nwhilst thou sang'st them!\u201d\n\n\u201cI will sing them all, all!\u201d said the mother. \u201cBut do not stop me now--I\nmay overtake him--I may find my child!\u201d\n\nBut Night stood still and mute. Then the mother wrung her hands, sang\nand wept, and there were many songs, but yet many more tears; and then\nNight said, \u201cGo to the right, into the dark pine forest; thither I saw\nDeath take his way with thy little child!\u201d\n\nThe roads crossed each other in the depths of the forest, and she no\nlonger knew whither she should go! then there stood a thorn-bush;\nthere was neither leaf nor flower on it, it was also in the cold winter\nseason, and ice-flakes hung on the branches.\n\n\u201cHast thou not seen Death go past with my little child?\u201d said the\nmother.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the thorn-bush; \u201cbut I will not tell thee which way he took,\nunless thou wilt first warm me up at thy heart. I am freezing to death;\nI shall become a lump of ice!\u201d\n\nAnd she pressed the thorn-bush to her breast, so firmly, that it might\nbe thoroughly warmed, and the thorns went right into her flesh, and her\nblood flowed in large drops, but the thornbush shot forth fresh green\nleaves, and there came flowers on it in the cold winter night, the heart\nof the afflicted mother was so warm; and the thorn-bush told her the way\nshe should go.\n\nShe then came to a large lake, where there was neither ship nor boat.\nThe lake was not frozen sufficiently to bear her; neither was it open,\nnor low enough that she could wade through it; and across it she must go\nif she would find her child! Then she lay down to drink up the lake, and\nthat was an impossibility for a human being, but the afflicted mother\nthought that a miracle might happen nevertheless.\n\n\u201cOh, what would I not give to come to my child!\u201d said the weeping\nmother; and she wept still more, and her eyes sunk down in the depths of\nthe waters, and became two precious pearls; but the water bore her up,\nas if she sat in a swing, and she flew in the rocking waves to the shore\non the opposite side, where there stood a mile-broad, strange house, one\nknew not if it were a mountain with forests and caverns, or if it were\nbuilt up; but the poor mother could not see it; she had wept her eyes\nout.\n\n\u201cWhere shall I find Death, who took away my little child?\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cHe has not come here yet!\u201d said the old grave woman, who was appointed\nto look after Death's great greenhouse! \u201cHow have you been able to find\nthe way hither? And who has helped you?\u201d\n\n\u201cOUR LORD has helped me,\u201d said she. \u201cHe is merciful, and you will also\nbe so! Where shall I find my little child?\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, I know not,\u201d said the woman, \u201cand you cannot see! Many flowers and\ntrees have withered this night; Death will soon come and plant them over\nagain! You certainly know that every person has his or her life's tree\nor flower, just as everyone happens to be settled; they look like other\nplants, but they have pulsations of the heart. Children's hearts can\nalso beat; go after yours, perhaps you may know your child's; but what\nwill you give me if I tell you what you shall do more?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have nothing to give,\u201d said the afflicted mother, \u201cbut I will go to\nthe world's end for you!\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, I have nothing to do there!\u201d said the woman. \u201cBut you can give\nme your long black hair; you know yourself that it is fine, and that\nI like! You shall have my white hair instead, and that's always\nsomething!\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you demand nothing else?\u201d said she. \u201cThat I will gladly give you!\u201d\n And she gave her her fine black hair, and got the old woman's snow-white\nhair instead.\n\nSo they went into Death's great greenhouse, where flowers and trees\ngrew strangely into one another. There stood fine hyacinths under glass\nbells, and there stood strong-stemmed peonies; there grew water plants,\nsome so fresh, others half sick, the water-snakes lay down on them,\nand black crabs pinched their stalks. There stood beautiful palm-trees,\noaks, and plantains; there stood parsley and flowering thyme: every tree\nand every flower had its name; each of them was a human life, the human\nframe still lived--one in China, and another in Greenland--round about\nin the world. There were large trees in small pots, so that they stood\nso stunted in growth, and ready to burst the pots; in other places,\nthere was a little dull flower in rich mould, with moss round about it,\nand it was so petted and nursed. But the distressed mother bent down\nover all the smallest plants, and heard within them how the human heart\nbeat; and amongst millions she knew her child's.\n\n\u201cThere it is!\u201d cried she, and stretched her hands out over a little blue\ncrocus, that hung quite sickly on one side.\n\n\u201cDon't touch the flower!\u201d said the old woman. \u201cBut place yourself here,\nand when Death comes--I expect him every moment--do not let him pluck\nthe flower up, but threaten him that you will do the same with the\nothers. Then he will be afraid! He is responsible for them to OUR LORD,\nand no one dares to pluck them up before HE gives leave.\u201d\n\nAll at once an icy cold rushed through the great hall, and the blind\nmother could feel that it was Death that came.\n\n\u201cHow hast thou been able to find thy way hither?\u201d he asked. \u201cHow couldst\nthou come quicker than I?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am a mother,\u201d said she.\n\nAnd Death stretched out his long hand towards the fine little flower,\nbut she held her hands fast around his, so tight, and yet afraid that\nshe should touch one of the leaves. Then Death blew on her hands, and\nshe felt that it was colder than the cold wind, and her hands fell down\npowerless.\n\n\u201cThou canst not do anything against me!\u201d said Death.\n\n\u201cBut OUR LORD can!\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cI only do His bidding!\u201d said Death. \u201cI am His gardener, I take all His\nflowers and trees, and plant them out in the great garden of Paradise,\nin the unknown land; but how they grow there, and how it is there I dare\nnot tell thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cGive me back my child!\u201d said the mother, and she wept and prayed. At\nonce she seized hold of two beautiful flowers close by, with each hand,\nand cried out to Death, \u201cI will tear all thy flowers off, for I am in\ndespair.\u201d\n\n\u201cTouch them not!\u201d said Death. \u201cThou say'st that thou art so unhappy, and\nnow thou wilt make another mother equally unhappy.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnother mother!\u201d said the poor woman, and directly let go her hold of\nboth the flowers.\n\n\u201cThere, thou hast thine eyes,\u201d said Death; \u201cI fished them up from the\nlake, they shone so bright; I knew not they were thine. Take them again,\nthey are now brighter than before; now look down into the deep well\nclose by; I shall tell thee the names of the two flowers thou wouldst\nhave torn up, and thou wilt see their whole future life--their whole\nhuman existence: and see what thou wast about to disturb and destroy.\u201d\n\nAnd she looked down into the well; and it was a happiness to see how the\none became a blessing to the world, to see how much happiness and joy\nwere felt everywhere. And she saw the other's life, and it was sorrow\nand distress, horror, and wretchedness.\n\n\u201cBoth of them are God's will!\u201d said Death.\n\n\u201cWhich of them is Misfortune's flower and which is that of Happiness?\u201d\n asked she.\n\n\u201cThat I will not tell thee,\u201d said Death; \u201cbut this thou shalt know from\nme, that the one flower was thy own child! it was thy child's fate thou\nsaw'st--thy own child's future life!\u201d\n\nThen the mother screamed with terror, \u201cWhich of them was my child? Tell\nit me! Save the innocent! Save my child from all that misery! Rather\ntake it away! Take it into God's kingdom! Forget my tears, forget my\nprayers, and all that I have done!\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not understand thee!\u201d said Death. \u201cWilt thou have thy child again,\nor shall I go with it there, where thou dost not know!\u201d\n\nThen the mother wrung her hands, fell on her knees, and prayed to our\nLord: \u201cOh, hear me not when I pray against Thy will, which is the best!\nhear me not! hear me not!\u201d\n\nAnd she bowed her head down in her lap, and Death took her child and\nwent with it into the unknown land.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FALSE COLLAR\n\nThere was once a fine gentleman, all of whose moveables were a boot-jack\nand a hair-comb: but he had the finest false collars in the world; and\nit is about one of these collars that we are now to hear a story.\n\nIt was so old, that it began to think of marriage; and it happened that\nit came to be washed in company with a garter.\n\n\u201cNay!\u201d said the collar. \u201cI never did see anything so slender and so\nfine, so soft and so neat. May I not ask your name?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I shall not tell you!\u201d said the garter.\n\n\u201cWhere do you live?\u201d asked the collar.\n\nBut the garter was so bashful, so modest, and thought it was a strange\nquestion to answer.\n\n\u201cYou are certainly a girdle,\u201d said the collar; \u201cthat is to say an inside\ngirdle. I see well that you are both for use and ornament, my dear young\nlady.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will thank you not to speak to me,\u201d said the garter. \u201cI think I have\nnot given the least occasion for it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes! When one is as handsome as you,\u201d said the collar, \u201cthat is\noccasion enough.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon't come so near me, I beg of you!\u201d said the garter. \u201cYou look so\nmuch like those men-folks.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am also a fine gentleman,\u201d said the collar. \u201cI have a bootjack and a\nhair-comb.\u201d\n\nBut that was not true, for it was his master who had them: but he\nboasted.\n\n\u201cDon't come so near me,\u201d said the garter: \u201cI am not accustomed to it.\u201d\n\n\u201cPrude!\u201d exclaimed the collar; and then it was taken out of the\nwashing-tub. It was starched, hung over the back of a chair in the\nsunshine, and was then laid on the ironing-blanket; then came the warm\nbox-iron. \u201cDear lady!\u201d said the collar. \u201cDear widow-lady! I feel quite\nhot. I am quite changed. I begin to unfold myself. You will burn a hole\nin me. Oh! I offer you my hand.\u201d\n\n\u201cRag!\u201d said the box-iron; and went proudly over the collar: for she\nfancied she was a steam-engine, that would go on the railroad and draw\nthe waggons. \u201cRag!\u201d said the box-iron.\n\nThe collar was a little jagged at the edge, and so came the long\nscissors to cut off the jagged part. \u201cOh!\u201d said the collar. \u201cYou are\ncertainly the first opera dancer. How well you can stretch your legs\nout! It is the most graceful performance I have ever seen. No one can\nimitate you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it,\u201d said the scissors.\n\n\u201cYou deserve to be a baroness,\u201d said the collar. \u201cAll that I have is a\nfine gentleman, a boot-jack, and a hair-comb. If I only had the barony!\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you seek my hand?\u201d said the scissors; for she was angry; and without\nmore ado, she CUT HIM, and then he was condemned.\n\n\u201cI shall now be obliged to ask the hair-comb. It is surprising how well\nyou preserve your teeth, Miss,\u201d said the collar. \u201cHave you never thought\nof being betrothed?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, of course! you may be sure of that,\u201d said the hair-comb. \u201cI AM\nbetrothed--to the boot-jack!\u201d\n\n\u201cBetrothed!\u201d exclaimed the collar. Now there was no other to court, and\nso he despised it.\n\nA long time passed away, then the collar came into the rag chest at the\npaper mill; there was a large company of rags, the fine by themselves,\nand the coarse by themselves, just as it should be. They all had much to\nsay, but the collar the most; for he was a real boaster.\n\n\u201cI have had such an immense number of sweethearts!\u201d said the collar.\n\u201cI could not be in peace! It is true, I was always a fine starched-up\ngentleman! I had both a boot-jack and a hair-comb, which I never used!\nYou should have seen me then, you should have seen me when I lay down!\nI shall never forget MY FIRST LOVE--she was a girdle, so fine, so soft,\nand so charming, she threw herself into a tub of water for my sake!\nThere was also a widow, who became glowing hot, but I left her standing\ntill she got black again; there was also the first opera dancer, she\ngave me that cut which I now go with, she was so ferocious! My\nown hair-comb was in love with me, she lost all her teeth from the\nheart-ache; yes, I have lived to see much of that sort of thing; but I\nam extremely sorry for the garter--I mean the girdle--that went into the\nwater-tub. I have much on my conscience, I want to become white paper!\u201d\n\nAnd it became so, all the rags were turned into white paper; but the\ncollar came to be just this very piece of white paper we here see,\nand on which the story is printed; and that was because it boasted so\nterribly afterwards of what had never happened to it. It would be well\nfor us to beware, that we may not act in a similar manner, for we can\nnever know if we may not, in the course of time, also come into the\nrag chest, and be made into white paper, and then have our whole life's\nhistory printed on it, even the most secret, and be obliged to run about\nand tell it ourselves, just like this collar.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SHADOW\n\nIt is in the hot lands that the sun burns, sure enough! there the people\nbecome quite a mahogany brown, ay, and in the HOTTEST lands they are\nburnt to Negroes. But now it was only to the HOT lands that a learned\nman had come from the cold; there he thought that he could run about\njust as when at home, but he soon found out his mistake.\n\nHe, and all sensible folks, were obliged to stay within doors--the\nwindow-shutters and doors were closed the whole day; it looked as if the\nwhole house slept, or there was no one at home.\n\nThe narrow street with the high houses, was built so that the sunshine\nmust fall there from morning till evening--it was really not to be\nborne.\n\nThe learned man from the cold lands--he was a young man, and seemed to\nbe a clever man--sat in a glowing oven; it took effect on him, he became\nquite meagre--even his shadow shrunk in, for the sun had also an effect\non it. It was first towards evening when the sun was down, that they\nbegan to freshen up again.\n\nIn the warm lands every window has a balcony, and the people came out on\nall the balconies in the street--for one must have air, even if one be\naccustomed to be mahogany!* It was lively both up and down the\nstreet. Tailors, and shoemakers, and all the folks, moved out into the\nstreet--chairs and tables were brought forth--and candles burnt--yes,\nabove a thousand lights were burning--and the one talked and the other\nsung; and people walked and church-bells rang, and asses went along with\na dingle-dingle-dong! for they too had bells on. The street boys were\nscreaming and hooting, and shouting and shooting, with devils and\ndetonating balls--and there came corpse bearers and hood wearers--for\nthere were funerals with psalm and hymn--and then the din of carriages\ndriving and company arriving: yes, it was, in truth, lively enough down\nin the street. Only in that single house, which stood opposite that in\nwhich the learned foreigner lived, it was quite still; and yet some one\nlived there, for there stood flowers in the balcony--they grew so\nwell in the sun's heat! and that they could not do unless they were\nwatered--and some one must water them--there must be somebody there.\nThe door opposite was also opened late in the evening, but it was dark\nwithin, at least in the front room; further in there was heard the sound\nof music. The learned foreigner thought it quite marvellous, but now--it\nmight be that he only imagined it--for he found everything marvellous\nout there, in the warm lands, if there had only been no sun. The\nstranger's landlord said that he didn't know who had taken the house\nopposite, one saw no person about, and as to the music, it appeared\nto him to be extremely tiresome. \u201cIt is as if some one sat there, and\npractised a piece that he could not master--always the same piece. 'I\nshall master it!' says he; but yet he cannot master it, however long he\nplays.\u201d\n\n* The word mahogany can be understood, in Danish, as having two\nmeanings. In general, it means the reddish-brown wood itself; but in\njest, it signifies \u201cexcessively fine,\u201d which arose from an anecdote of\nNyboder, in Copenhagen, (the seamen's quarter.) A sailor's wife, who was\nalways proud and fine, in her way, came to her neighbor, and complained\nthat she had got a splinter in her finger. \u201cWhat of?\u201d asked the\nneighbor's wife. \u201cIt is a mahogany splinter,\u201d said the other. \u201cMahogany!\nIt cannot be less with you!\u201d exclaimed the woman--and thence the\nproverb, \u201cIt is so mahogany!\u201d--(that is, so excessively fine)--is\nderived.\n\n\nOne night the stranger awoke--he slept with the doors of the balcony\nopen--the curtain before it was raised by the wind, and he thought\nthat a strange lustre came from the opposite neighbor's house; all the\nflowers shone like flames, in the most beautiful colors, and in the\nmidst of the flowers stood a slender, graceful maiden--it was as if she\nalso shone; the light really hurt his eyes. He now opened them quite\nwide--yes, he was quite awake; with one spring he was on the floor; he\ncrept gently behind the curtain, but the maiden was gone; the flowers\nshone no longer, but there they stood, fresh and blooming as ever;\nthe door was ajar, and, far within, the music sounded so soft and\ndelightful, one could really melt away in sweet thoughts from it. Yet\nit was like a piece of enchantment. And who lived there? Where was the\nactual entrance? The whole of the ground-floor was a row of shops, and\nthere people could not always be running through.\n\nOne evening the stranger sat out on the balcony. The light burnt in the\nroom behind him; and thus it was quite natural that his shadow should\nfall on his opposite neighbor's wall. Yes! there it sat, directly\nopposite, between the flowers on the balcony; and when the stranger\nmoved, the shadow also moved: for that it always does.\n\n\u201cI think my shadow is the only living thing one sees over there,\u201d said\nthe learned man. \u201cSee, how nicely it sits between the flowers. The door\nstands half-open: now the shadow should be cunning, and go into the\nroom, look about, and then come and tell me what it had seen. Come, now!\nBe useful, and do me a service,\u201d said he, in jest. \u201cHave the kindness to\nstep in. Now! Art thou going?\u201d and then he nodded to the shadow, and the\nshadow nodded again. \u201cWell then, go! But don't stay away.\u201d\n\nThe stranger rose, and his shadow on the opposite neighbor's balcony\nrose also; the stranger turned round and the shadow also turned round.\nYes! if anyone had paid particular attention to it, they would have\nseen, quite distinctly, that the shadow went in through the half-open\nbalcony-door of their opposite neighbor, just as the stranger went into\nhis own room, and let the long curtain fall down after him.\n\nNext morning, the learned man went out to drink coffee and read the\nnewspapers.\n\n\u201cWhat is that?\u201d said he, as he came out into the sunshine. \u201cI have no\nshadow! So then, it has actually gone last night, and not come again. It\nis really tiresome!\u201d\n\nThis annoyed him: not so much because the shadow was gone, but because\nhe knew there was a story about a man without a shadow.* It was known\nto everybody at home, in the cold lands; and if the learned man now came\nthere and told his story, they would say that he was imitating it, and\nthat he had no need to do. He would, therefore, not talk about it at\nall; and that was wisely thought.\n\n*Peter Schlemihl, the shadowless man.\n\n\nIn the evening he went out again on the balcony. He had placed the light\ndirectly behind him, for he knew that the shadow would always have its\nmaster for a screen, but he could not entice it. He made himself little;\nhe made himself great: but no shadow came again. He said, \u201cHem! hem!\u201d\n but it was of no use.\n\nIt was vexatious; but in the warm lands everything grows so quickly; and\nafter the lapse of eight days he observed, to his great joy, that a new\nshadow came in the sunshine. In the course of three weeks he had a very\nfair shadow, which, when he set out for his home in the northern lands,\ngrew more and more in the journey, so that at last it was so long and so\nlarge, that it was more than sufficient.\n\nThe learned man then came home, and he wrote books about what was true\nin the world, and about what was good and what was beautiful; and there\npassed days and years--yes! many years passed away.\n\nOne evening, as he was sitting in his room, there was a gentle knocking\nat the door.\n\n\u201cCome in!\u201d said he; but no one came in; so he opened the door, and there\nstood before him such an extremely lean man, that he felt quite strange.\nAs to the rest, the man was very finely dressed--he must be a gentleman.\n\n\u201cWhom have I the honor of speaking?\u201d asked the learned man.\n\n\u201cYes! I thought as much,\u201d said the fine man. \u201cI thought you would not\nknow me. I have got so much body. I have even got flesh and clothes. You\ncertainly never thought of seeing me so well off. Do you not know your\nold shadow? You certainly thought I should never more return. Things\nhave gone on well with me since I was last with you. I have, in all\nrespects, become very well off. Shall I purchase my freedom from\nservice? If so, I can do it\u201d; and then he rattled a whole bunch of\nvaluable seals that hung to his watch, and he stuck his hand in the\nthick gold chain he wore around his neck--nay! how all his fingers\nglittered with diamond rings; and then all were pure gems.\n\n\u201cNay; I cannot recover from my surprise!\u201d said the learned man. \u201cWhat is\nthe meaning of all this?\u201d\n\n\u201cSomething common, is it not,\u201d said the shadow. \u201cBut you yourself do not\nbelong to the common order; and I, as you know well, have from a child\nfollowed in your footsteps. As soon as you found I was capable to go\nout alone in the world, I went my own way. I am in the most brilliant\ncircumstances, but there came a sort of desire over me to see you once\nmore before you die; you will die, I suppose? I also wished to see this\nland again--for you know we always love our native land. I know you have\ngot another shadow again; have I anything to pay to it or you? If so,\nyou will oblige me by saying what it is.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, is it really thou?\u201d said the learned man. \u201cIt is most remarkable:\nI never imagined that one's old shadow could come again as a man.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me what I have to pay,\u201d said the shadow; \u201cfor I don't like to be\nin any sort of debt.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow canst thou talk so?\u201d said the learned man. \u201cWhat debt is there to\ntalk about? Make thyself as free as anyone else. I am extremely glad to\nhear of thy good fortune: sit down, old friend, and tell me a little\nhow it has gone with thee, and what thou hast seen at our opposite\nneighbor's there--in the warm lands.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I will tell you all about it,\u201d said the shadow, and sat down: \u201cbut\nthen you must also promise me, that, wherever you may meet me, you will\nnever say to anyone here in the town that I have been your shadow. I\nintend to get betrothed, for I can provide for more than one family.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe quite at thy ease about that,\u201d said the learned man; \u201cI shall not\nsay to anyone who thou actually art: here is my hand--I promise it, and\na man's bond is his word.\u201d\n\n\u201cA word is a shadow,\u201d said the shadow, \u201cand as such it must speak.\u201d\n\nIt was really quite astonishing how much of a man it was. It was dressed\nentirely in black, and of the very finest cloth; it had patent leather\nboots, and a hat that could be folded together, so that it was bare\ncrown and brim; not to speak of what we already know it had--seals, gold\nneck-chain, and diamond rings; yes, the shadow was well-dressed, and it\nwas just that which made it quite a man.\n\n\u201cNow I shall tell you my adventures,\u201d said the shadow; and then he\nsat, with the polished boots, as heavily as he could, on the arm of the\nlearned man's new shadow, which lay like a poodle-dog at his feet.\nNow this was perhaps from arrogance; and the shadow on the ground kept\nitself so still and quiet, that it might hear all that passed: it wished\nto know how it could get free, and work its way up, so as to become its\nown master.\n\n\u201cDo you know who lived in our opposite neighbor's house?\u201d said the\nshadow. \u201cIt was the most charming of all beings, it was Poesy! I was\nthere for three weeks, and that has as much effect as if one had lived\nthree thousand years, and read all that was composed and written;\nthat is what I say, and it is right. I have seen everything and I know\neverything!\u201d\n\n\u201cPoesy!\u201d cried the learned man. \u201cYes, yes, she often dwells a recluse\nin large cities! Poesy! Yes, I have seen her--a single short moment,\nbut sleep came into my eyes! She stood on the balcony and shone as the\nAurora Borealis shines. Go on, go on--thou wert on the balcony, and went\nthrough the doorway, and then--\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I was in the antechamber,\u201d said the shadow. \u201cYou always sat and\nlooked over to the antechamber. There was no light; there was a sort\nof twilight, but the one door stood open directly opposite the other\nthrough a long row of rooms and saloons, and there it was lighted up. I\nshould have been completely killed if I had gone over to the maiden; but\nI was circumspect, I took time to think, and that one must always do.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what didst thou then see?\u201d asked the learned man.\n\n\u201cI saw everything, and I shall tell all to you: but--it is no pride on\nmy part--as a free man, and with the knowledge I have, not to speak of\nmy position in life, my excellent circumstances--I certainly wish that\nyou would say YOU* to me!\u201d\n\n* It is the custom in Denmark for intimate acquaintances to use the\nsecond person singular, \u201cDu,\u201d (thou) when speaking to each other. When\na friendship is formed between men, they generally affirm it, when\noccasion offers, either in public or private, by drinking to each other\nand exclaiming, \u201cthy health,\u201d at the same time striking their glasses\ntogether. This is called drinking \u201cDuus\u201d: they are then, \u201cDuus Brodre,\u201d\n (thou brothers) and ever afterwards use the pronoun \u201cthou,\u201d to each\nother, it being regarded as more familiar than \u201cDe,\u201d (you). Father and\nmother, sister and brother say thou to one another--without regard to\nage or rank. Master and mistress say thou to their servants the superior\nto the inferior. But servants and inferiors do not use the same term\nto their masters, or superiors--nor is it ever used when speaking to a\nstranger, or anyone with whom they are but slightly acquainted--they\nthen say as in English--you.\n\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon,\u201d said the learned man; \u201cit is an old habit with me.\nYOU are perfectly right, and I shall remember it; but now you must tell\nme all YOU saw!\u201d\n\n\u201cEverything!\u201d said the shadow. \u201cFor I saw everything, and I know\neverything!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow did it look in the furthest saloon?\u201d asked the learned man. \u201cWas it\nthere as in the fresh woods? Was it there as in a holy church? Were the\nsaloons like the starlit firmament when we stand on the high mountains?\u201d\n\n\u201cEverything was there!\u201d said the shadow. \u201cI did not go quite in, I\nremained in the foremost room, in the twilight, but I stood there\nquite well; I saw everything, and I know everything! I have been in the\nantechamber at the court of Poesy.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut WHAT DID you see? Did all the gods of the olden times pass through\nthe large saloons? Did the old heroes combat there? Did sweet children\nplay there, and relate their dreams?\u201d\n\n\u201cI tell you I was there, and you can conceive that I saw everything\nthere was to be seen. Had you come over there, you would not have been\na man; but I became so! And besides, I learned to know my inward nature,\nmy innate qualities, the relationship I had with Poesy. At the time I\nwas with you, I thought not of that, but always--you know it well--when\nthe sun rose, and when the sun went down, I became so strangely great;\nin the moonlight I was very near being more distinct than yourself; at\nthat time I did not understand my nature; it was revealed to me in the\nantechamber! I became a man! I came out matured; but you were no longer\nin the warm lands; as a man I was ashamed to go as I did. I was in\nwant of boots, of clothes, of the whole human varnish that makes a man\nperceptible. I took my way--I tell it to you, but you will not put it in\nany book--I took my way to the cake woman--I hid myself behind her;\nthe woman didn't think how much she concealed. I went out first in the\nevening; I ran about the streets in the moonlight; I made myself long up\nthe walls--it tickles the back so delightfully! I ran up, and ran down,\npeeped into the highest windows, into the saloons, and on the roofs, I\npeeped in where no one could peep, and I saw what no one else saw, what\nno one else should see! This is, in fact, a base world! I would not be a\nman if it were not now once accepted and regarded as something to be so!\nI saw the most unimaginable things with the women, with the men, with\nparents, and with the sweet, matchless children; I saw,\u201d said the\nshadow, \u201cwhat no human being must know, but what they would all\nso willingly know--what is bad in their neighbor. Had I written a\nnewspaper, it would have been read! But I wrote direct to the persons\nthemselves, and there was consternation in all the towns where I came.\nThey were so afraid of me, and yet they were so excessively fond of\nme. The professors made a professor of me; the tailors gave me new\nclothes--I am well furnished; the master of the mint struck new coin for\nme, and the women said I was so handsome! And so I became the man I am.\nAnd I now bid you farewell. Here is my card--I live on the sunny side\nof the street, and am always at home in rainy weather!\u201d And so away went\nthe shadow. \u201cThat was most extraordinary!\u201d said the learned man. Years\nand days passed away, then the shadow came again. \u201cHow goes it?\u201d said\nthe shadow.\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said the learned man. \u201cI write about the true, and the good,\nand the beautiful, but no one cares to hear such things; I am quite\ndesperate, for I take it so much to heart!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I don't!\u201d said the shadow. \u201cI become fat, and it is that one wants\nto become! You do not understand the world. You will become ill by it.\nYou must travel! I shall make a tour this summer; will you go with me?\nI should like to have a travelling companion! Will you go with me, as\nshadow? It will be a great pleasure for me to have you with me; I shall\npay the travelling expenses!\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, this is too much!\u201d said the learned man.\n\n\u201cIt is just as one takes it!\u201d said the shadow. \u201cIt will do you much good\nto travel! Will you be my shadow? You shall have everything free on the\njourney!\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, that is too bad!\u201d said the learned man.\n\n\u201cBut it is just so with the world!\u201d said the shadow, \u201cand so it will\nbe!\u201d and away it went again.\n\nThe learned man was not at all in the most enviable state; grief and\ntorment followed him, and what he said about the true, and the good, and\nthe beautiful, was, to most persons, like roses for a cow! He was quite\nill at last.\n\n\u201cYou really look like a shadow!\u201d said his friends to him; and the\nlearned man trembled, for he thought of it.\n\n\u201cYou must go to a watering-place!\u201d said the shadow, who came and visited\nhim. \u201cThere is nothing else for it! I will take you with me for old\nacquaintance' sake; I will pay the travelling expenses, and you write\nthe descriptions--and if they are a little amusing for me on the way!\nI will go to a watering-place--my beard does not grow out as it\nought--that is also a sickness--and one must have a beard! Now you be\nwise and accept the offer; we shall travel as comrades!\u201d\n\nAnd so they travelled; the shadow was master, and the master was the\nshadow; they drove with each other, they rode and walked together, side\nby side, before and behind, just as the sun was; the shadow always took\ncare to keep itself in the master's place. Now the learned man didn't\nthink much about that; he was a very kind-hearted man, and particularly\nmild and friendly, and so he said one day to the shadow: \u201cAs we have\nnow become companions, and in this way have grown up together from\nchildhood, shall we not drink 'thou' together, it is more familiar?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are right,\u201d said the shadow, who was now the proper master. \u201cIt is\nsaid in a very straight-forward and well-meant manner. You, as a learned\nman, certainly know how strange nature is. Some persons cannot bear to\ntouch grey paper, or they become ill; others shiver in every limb if one\nrub a pane of glass with a nail: I have just such a feeling on hearing\nyou say thou to me; I feel myself as if pressed to the earth in my first\nsituation with you. You see that it is a feeling; that it is not pride:\nI cannot allow you to say THOU to me, but I will willingly say THOU to\nyou, so it is half done!\u201d\n\nSo the shadow said THOU to its former master.\n\n\u201cThis is rather too bad,\u201d thought he, \u201cthat I must say YOU and he say\nTHOU,\u201d but he was now obliged to put up with it.\n\nSo they came to a watering-place where there were many strangers, and\namongst them was a princess, who was troubled with seeing too well; and\nthat was so alarming!\n\nShe directly observed that the stranger who had just come was quite a\ndifferent sort of person to all the others; \u201cHe has come here in order\nto get his beard to grow, they say, but I see the real cause, he cannot\ncast a shadow.\u201d\n\nShe had become inquisitive; and so she entered into conversation\ndirectly with the strange gentleman, on their promenades. As the\ndaughter of a king, she needed not to stand upon trifles, so she said,\n\u201cYour complaint is, that you cannot cast a shadow?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour Royal Highness must be improving considerably,\u201d said the shadow,\n\u201cI know your complaint is, that you see too clearly, but it has\ndecreased, you are cured. I just happen to have a very unusual shadow!\nDo you not see that person who always goes with me? Other persons have\na common shadow, but I do not like what is common to all. We give our\nservants finer cloth for their livery than we ourselves use, and so I\nhad my shadow trimmed up into a man: yes, you see I have even given him\na shadow. It is somewhat expensive, but I like to have something for\nmyself!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d thought the princess. \u201cShould I really be cured! These baths are\nthe first in the world! In our time water has wonderful powers. But I\nshall not leave the place, for it now begins to be amusing here. I am\nextremely fond of that stranger: would that his beard should not grow,\nfor in that case he will leave us!\u201d\n\nIn the evening, the princess and the shadow danced together in the large\nball-room. She was light, but he was still lighter; she had never had\nsuch a partner in the dance. She told him from what land she came, and\nhe knew that land; he had been there, but then she was not at home; he\nhad peeped in at the window, above and below--he had seen both the\none and the other, and so he could answer the princess, and make\ninsinuations, so that she was quite astonished; he must be the wisest\nman in the whole world! She felt such respect for what he knew! So that\nwhen they again danced together she fell in love with him; and that the\nshadow could remark, for she almost pierced him through with her eyes.\nSo they danced once more together; and she was about to declare herself,\nbut she was discreet; she thought of her country and kingdom, and of the\nmany persons she would have to reign over.\n\n\u201cHe is a wise man,\u201d said she to herself--\u201cIt is well; and he dances\ndelightfully--that is also good; but has he solid knowledge? That is\njust as important! He must be examined.\u201d\n\nSo she began, by degrees, to question him about the most difficult\nthings she could think of, and which she herself could not have\nanswered; so that the shadow made a strange face.\n\n\u201cYou cannot answer these questions?\u201d said the princess.\n\n\u201cThey belong to my childhood's learning,\u201d said the shadow. \u201cI really\nbelieve my shadow, by the door there, can answer them!\u201d\n\n\u201cYour shadow!\u201d said the princess. \u201cThat would indeed be marvellous!\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not say for a certainty that he can,\u201d said the shadow, \u201cbut I\nthink so; he has now followed me for so many years, and listened to my\nconversation--I should think it possible. But your royal highness will\npermit me to observe, that he is so proud of passing himself off for\na man, that when he is to be in a proper humor--and he must be so to\nanswer well--he must be treated quite like a man.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! I like that!\u201d said the princess.\n\nSo she went to the learned man by the door, and she spoke to him about\nthe sun and the moon, and about persons out of and in the world, and he\nanswered with wisdom and prudence.\n\n\u201cWhat a man that must be who has so wise a shadow!\u201d thought she. \u201cIt\nwill be a real blessing to my people and kingdom if I choose him for my\nconsort--I will do it!\u201d\n\nThey were soon agreed, both the princess and the shadow; but no one was\nto know about it before she arrived in her own kingdom.\n\n\u201cNo one--not even my shadow!\u201d said the shadow, and he had his own\nthoughts about it!\n\nNow they were in the country where the princess reigned when she was at\nhome.\n\n\u201cListen, my good friend,\u201d said the shadow to the learned man. \u201cI have\nnow become as happy and mighty as anyone can be; I will, therefore, do\nsomething particular for thee! Thou shalt always live with me in the\npalace, drive with me in my royal carriage, and have ten thousand\npounds a year; but then thou must submit to be called SHADOW by all and\neveryone; thou must not say that thou hast ever been a man; and once\na year, when I sit on the balcony in the sunshine, thou must lie at my\nfeet, as a shadow shall do! I must tell thee: I am going to marry the\nking's daughter, and the nuptials are to take place this evening!\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, this is going too far!\u201d said the learned man. \u201cI will not have it;\nI will not do it! It is to deceive the whole country and the princess\ntoo! I will tell everything! That I am a man, and that thou art a\nshadow--thou art only dressed up!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no one who will believe it!\u201d said the shadow. \u201cBe reasonable,\nor I will call the guard!\u201d\n\n\u201cI will go directly to the princess!\u201d said the learned man.\n\n\u201cBut I will go first!\u201d said the shadow. \u201cAnd thou wilt go to prison!\u201d\n and that he was obliged to do--for the sentinels obeyed him whom they\nknew the king's daughter was to marry.\n\n\u201cYou tremble!\u201d said the princess, as the shadow came into her chamber.\n\u201cHas anything happened? You must not be unwell this evening, now that we\nare to have our nuptials celebrated.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have lived to see the most cruel thing that anyone can live to\nsee!\u201d said the shadow. \u201cOnly imagine--yes, it is true, such a poor\nshadow-skull cannot bear much--only think, my shadow has become mad;\nhe thinks that he is a man, and that I--now only think--that I am his\nshadow!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is terrible!\u201d said the princess; \u201cbut he is confined, is he not?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat he is. I am afraid that he will never recover.\u201d\n\n\u201cPoor shadow!\u201d said the princess. \u201cHe is very unfortunate; it would be\na real work of charity to deliver him from the little life he has, and,\nwhen I think properly over the matter, I am of opinion that it will be\nnecessary to do away with him in all stillness!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is certainly hard,\u201d said the shadow, \u201cfor he was a faithful\nservant!\u201d and then he gave a sort of sigh.\n\n\u201cYou are a noble character!\u201d said the princess.\n\nThe whole city was illuminated in the evening, and the cannons went off\nwith a bum! bum! and the soldiers presented arms. That was a marriage!\nThe princess and the shadow went out on the balcony to show themselves,\nand get another hurrah!\n\nThe learned man heard nothing of all this--for they had deprived him of\nlife.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE MATCH GIRL\n\nMost terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and\nevening--the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there\nwent along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked\nfeet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was\nthe good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had\nhitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them\nas she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that\nrolled by dreadfully fast.\n\nOne slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by\nan urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for\na cradle when he some day or other should have children himself. So the\nlittle maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red\nand blue from cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron,\nand she held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of\nher the whole livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing.\n\nShe crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very picture of\nsorrow, the poor little thing!\n\nThe flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful\ncurls around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now\nthought. From all the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so\ndeliciously of roast goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of\nthat she thought.\n\nIn a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the\nother, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet\nshe had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go\nhome she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and could\nnot bring a farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get\nblows, and at home it was cold too, for above her she had only the roof,\nthrough which the wind whistled, even though the largest cracks were\nstopped up with straw and rags.\n\nHer little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford\nher a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the\nbundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She drew\none out. \u201cRischt!\u201d how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright\nflame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful\nlight. It seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting\nbefore a large iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass\nornament at top. The fire burned with such blessed influence; it warmed\nso delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to\nwarm them too; but--the small flame went out, the stove vanished: she\nhad only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.\n\nShe rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the\nlight fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a\nveil, so that she could see into the room. On the table was spread a\nsnow-white tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the\nroast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried\nplums. And what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped\ndown from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its\nbreast, till it came up to the poor little girl; when--the match went\nout and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind.\nShe lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most\nmagnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than\nthe one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's\nhouse.\n\nThousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and\ngaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked\ndown upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them\nwhen--the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher\nand higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and\nformed a long trail of fire.\n\n\u201cSomeone is just dead!\u201d said the little girl; for her old grandmother,\nthe only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told\nher, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.\n\nShe drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the\nlustre there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild,\nand with such an expression of love.\n\n\u201cGrandmother!\u201d cried the little one. \u201cOh, take me with you! You go\naway when the match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the\ndelicious roast goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!\u201d And\nshe rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for\nshe wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her. And\nthe matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at\nnoon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and\nso tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in\nbrightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was neither\ncold, nor hunger, nor anxiety--they were with God.\n\nBut in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with\nrosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall--frozen\nto death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the\nchild there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. \u201cShe\nwanted to warm herself,\u201d people said. No one had the slightest suspicion\nof what beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the\nsplendor in which, with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a\nnew year.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DREAM OF LITTLE TUK\n\nAh! yes, that was little Tuk: in reality his name was not Tuk, but that\nwas what he called himself before he could speak plain: he meant it for\nCharles, and it is all well enough if one does but know it. He had now\nto take care of his little sister Augusta, who was much younger than\nhimself, and he was, besides, to learn his lesson at the same time; but\nthese two things would not do together at all. There sat the poor little\nfellow, with his sister on his lap, and he sang to her all the songs he\nknew; and he glanced the while from time to time into the geography-book\nthat lay open before him. By the next morning he was to have learnt\nall the towns in Zealand by heart, and to know about them all that is\npossible to be known.\n\nHis mother now came home, for she had been out, and took little Augusta\non her arm. Tuk ran quickly to the window, and read so eagerly that he\npretty nearly read his eyes out; for it got darker and darker, but his\nmother had no money to buy a candle.\n\n\u201cThere goes the old washerwoman over the way,\u201d said his mother, as she\nlooked out of the window. \u201cThe poor woman can hardly drag herself along,\nand she must now drag the pail home from the fountain. Be a good boy,\nTukey, and run across and help the old woman, won't you?\u201d\n\nSo Tuk ran over quickly and helped her; but when he came back again into\nthe room it was quite dark, and as to a light, there was no thought of\nsuch a thing. He was now to go to bed; that was an old turn-up bedstead;\nin it he lay and thought about his geography lesson, and of Zealand, and\nof all that his master had told him. He ought, to be sure, to have read\nover his lesson again, but that, you know, he could not do. He therefore\nput his geography-book under his pillow, because he had heard that was\na very good thing to do when one wants to learn one's lesson; but one\ncannot, however, rely upon it entirely. Well, there he lay, and thought\nand thought, and all at once it was just as if someone kissed his eyes\nand mouth: he slept, and yet he did not sleep; it was as though the old\nwasherwoman gazed on him with her mild eyes and said, \u201cIt were a great\nsin if you were not to know your lesson tomorrow morning. You have aided\nme, I therefore will now help you; and the loving God will do so at all\ntimes.\u201d And all of a sudden the book under Tuk's pillow began scraping\nand scratching.\n\n\u201cKickery-ki! kluk! kluk! kluk!\u201d--that was an old hen who came creeping\nalong, and she was from Kjoge. \u201cI am a Kjoger hen,\u201d [*] said she, and then\nshe related how many inhabitants there were there, and about the battle\nthat had taken place, and which, after all, was hardly worth talking\nabout.\n\n     * Kjoge, a town in the bay of Kjoge. \u201cTo see the Kjoge\n     hens,\u201d is an expression similar to \u201cshowing a child London,\u201d\n      which is said to be done by taking his head in both bands,\n     and so lifting him off the ground. At the invasion of the\n     English in 1807, an encounter of a no very glorious nature\n     took place between the British troops and the undisciplined\n     Danish militia.\n\n\u201cKribledy, krabledy--plump!\u201d down fell somebody: it was a wooden bird,\nthe popinjay used at the shooting-matches at Prastoe. Now he said that\nthere were just as many inhabitants as he had nails in his body; and he\nwas very proud. \u201cThorwaldsen lived almost next door to me.* Plump! Here\nI lie capitally.\u201d\n\n* Prastoe, a still smaller town than Kjoge. Some hundred paces from\nit lies the manor-house Ny Soe, where Thorwaldsen, the famed sculptor,\ngenerally sojourned during his stay in Denmark, and where he called many\nof his immortal works into existence.\n\n\nBut little Tuk was no longer lying down: all at once he was on\nhorseback. On he went at full gallop, still galloping on and on. A\nknight with a gleaming plume, and most magnificently dressed, held him\nbefore him on the horse, and thus they rode through the wood to the old\ntown of Bordingborg, and that was a large and very lively town. High\ntowers rose from the castle of the king, and the brightness of many\ncandles streamed from all the windows; within was dance and song,\nand King Waldemar and the young, richly-attired maids of honor danced\ntogether. The morn now came; and as soon as the sun appeared, the whole\ntown and the king's palace crumbled together, and one tower after the\nother; and at last only a single one remained standing where the castle\nhad been before,* and the town was so small and poor, and the school\nboys came along with their books under their arms, and said, \u201c2000\ninhabitants!\u201d but that was not true, for there were not so many.\n\n*Bordingborg, in the reign of King Waldemar, a considerable place, now\nan unimportant little town. One solitary tower only, and some remains of\na wall, show where the castle once stood.\n\n\nAnd little Tukey lay in his bed: it seemed to him as if he dreamed, and\nyet as if he were not dreaming; however, somebody was close beside him.\n\n\u201cLittle Tukey! Little Tukey!\u201d cried someone near. It was a seaman,\nquite a little personage, so little as if he were a midshipman; but a\nmidshipman it was not.\n\n\u201cMany remembrances from Corsor.* That is a town that is just rising\ninto importance; a lively town that has steam-boats and stagecoaches:\nformerly people called it ugly, but that is no longer true. I lie on\nthe sea,\u201d said Corsor; \u201cI have high roads and gardens, and I have given\nbirth to a poet who was witty and amusing, which all poets are not. I\nonce intended to equip a ship that was to sail all round the earth; but\nI did not do it, although I could have done so: and then, too, I smell\nso deliciously, for close before the gate bloom the most beautiful\nroses.\u201d\n\n*Corsor, on the Great Belt, called, formerly, before the introduction\nof steam-vessels, when travellers were often obliged to wait a long time\nfor a favorable wind, \u201cthe most tiresome of towns.\u201d The poet Baggesen\nwas born here.\n\n\nLittle Tuk looked, and all was red and green before his eyes; but as\nsoon as the confusion of colors was somewhat over, all of a sudden there\nappeared a wooded slope close to the bay, and high up above stood a\nmagnificent old church, with two high pointed towers. From out the\nhill-side spouted fountains in thick streams of water, so that there\nwas a continual splashing; and close beside them sat an old king with\na golden crown upon his white head: that was King Hroar, near the\nfountains, close to the town of Roeskilde, as it is now called. And up\nthe slope into the old church went all the kings and queens of Denmark,\nhand in hand, all with their golden crowns; and the organ played and\nthe fountains rustled. Little Tuk saw all, heard all. \u201cDo not forget the\ndiet,\u201d said King Hroar.*\n\n*Roeskilde, once the capital of Denmark. The town takes its name from\nKing Hroar, and the many fountains in the neighborhood. In the beautiful\ncathedral the greater number of the kings and queens of Denmark are\ninterred. In Roeskilde, too, the members of the Danish Diet assemble.\n\n\nAgain all suddenly disappeared. Yes, and whither? It seemed to him\njust as if one turned over a leaf in a book. And now stood there an\nold peasant-woman, who came from Soroe,* where grass grows in the\nmarket-place. She had an old grey linen apron hanging over her head and\nback: it was so wet, it certainly must have been raining. \u201cYes, that it\nhas,\u201d said she; and she now related many pretty things out of Holberg's\ncomedies, and about Waldemar and Absalon; but all at once she cowered\ntogether, and her head began shaking backwards and forwards, and she\nlooked as she were going to make a spring. \u201cCroak! croak!\u201d said she.\n\u201cIt is wet, it is wet; there is such a pleasant deathlike stillness in\nSorbe!\u201d She was now suddenly a frog, \u201cCroak\u201d; and now she was an old\nwoman. \u201cOne must dress according to the weather,\u201d said she. \u201cIt is wet;\nit is wet. My town is just like a bottle; and one gets in by the neck,\nand by the neck one must get out again! In former times I had the\nfinest fish, and now I have fresh rosy-cheeked boys at the bottom of the\nbottle, who learn wisdom, Hebrew, Greek--Croak!\u201d\n\n* Sorbe, a very quiet little town, beautifully situated, surrounded by\nwoods and lakes. Holberg, Denmark's Moliere, founded here an academy\nfor the sons of the nobles. The poets Hauch and Ingemann were appointed\nprofessors here. The latter lives there still.\n\n\nWhen she spoke it sounded just like the noise of frogs, or as if one\nwalked with great boots over a moor; always the same tone, so uniform\nand so tiring that little Tuk fell into a good sound sleep, which, by\nthe bye, could not do him any harm.\n\nBut even in this sleep there came a dream, or whatever else it was: his\nlittle sister Augusta, she with the blue eyes and the fair curling hair,\nwas suddenly a tall, beautiful girl, and without having wings was yet\nable to fly; and she now flew over Zealand--over the green woods and the\nblue lakes.\n\n\u201cDo you hear the cock crow, Tukey? Cock-a-doodle-doo! The cocks are\nflying up from Kjoge! You will have a farm-yard, so large, oh! so very\nlarge! You will suffer neither hunger nor thirst! You will get on in the\nworld! You will be a rich and happy man! Your house will exalt itself\nlike King Waldemar's tower, and will be richly decorated with marble\nstatues, like that at Prastoe. You understand what I mean. Your name\nshall circulate with renown all round the earth, like unto the ship that\nwas to have sailed from Corsor; and in Roeskilde--\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not forget the diet!\u201d said King Hroar.\n\n\u201cThen you will speak well and wisely, little Tukey; and when at last you\nsink into your grave, you shall sleep as quietly--\u201d\n\n\u201cAs if I lay in Soroe,\u201d said Tuk, awaking. It was bright day, and he was\nnow quite unable to call to mind his dream; that, however, was not at\nall necessary, for one may not know what the future will bring.\n\nAnd out of bed he jumped, and read in his book, and now all at once he\nknew his whole lesson. And the old washerwoman popped her head in at the\ndoor, nodded to him friendly, and said, \u201cThanks, many thanks, my good\nchild, for your help! May the good ever-loving God fulfil your loveliest\ndream!\u201d\n\nLittle Tukey did not at all know what he had dreamed, but the loving God\nknew it.\n\n\n\n\nTHE NAUGHTY BOY\n\nAlong time ago, there lived an old poet, a thoroughly kind old poet. As\nhe was sitting one evening in his room, a dreadful storm arose without,\nand the rain streamed down from heaven; but the old poet sat warm\nand comfortable in his chimney-corner, where the fire blazed and the\nroasting apple hissed.\n\n\u201cThose who have not a roof over their heads will be wetted to the skin,\u201d\n said the good old poet.\n\n\u201cOh let me in! Let me in! I am cold, and I'm so wet!\u201d exclaimed suddenly\na child that stood crying at the door and knocking for admittance, while\nthe rain poured down, and the wind made all the windows rattle.\n\n\u201cPoor thing!\u201d said the old poet, as he went to open the door. There\nstood a little boy, quite naked, and the water ran down from his long\ngolden hair; he trembled with cold, and had he not come into a warm room\nhe would most certainly have perished in the frightful tempest.\n\n\u201cPoor child!\u201d said the old poet, as he took the boy by the hand. \u201cCome\nin, come in, and I will soon restore thee! Thou shalt have wine and\nroasted apples, for thou art verily a charming child!\u201d And the boy was\nso really. His eyes were like two bright stars; and although the water\ntrickled down his hair, it waved in beautiful curls. He looked exactly\nlike a little angel, but he was so pale, and his whole body trembled\nwith cold. He had a nice little bow in his hand, but it was quite\nspoiled by the rain, and the tints of his many-colored arrows ran one\ninto the other.\n\nThe old poet seated himself beside his hearth, and took the little\nfellow on his lap; he squeezed the water out of his dripping hair,\nwarmed his hands between his own, and boiled for him some sweet wine.\nThen the boy recovered, his cheeks again grew rosy, he jumped down from\nthe lap where he was sitting, and danced round the kind old poet.\n\n\u201cYou are a merry fellow,\u201d said the old man. \u201cWhat's your name?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy name is Cupid,\u201d answered the boy. \u201cDon't you know me? There lies my\nbow; it shoots well, I can assure you! Look, the weather is now clearing\nup, and the moon is shining clear again through the window.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, your bow is quite spoiled,\u201d said the old poet.\n\n\u201cThat were sad indeed,\u201d said the boy, and he took the bow in his hand\nand examined it on every side. \u201cOh, it is dry again, and is not hurt at\nall; the string is quite tight. I will try it directly.\u201d And he bent his\nbow, took aim, and shot an arrow at the old poet, right into his heart.\n\u201cYou see now that my bow was not spoiled,\u201d said he laughing; and away he\nran.\n\nThe naughty boy, to shoot the old poet in that way; he who had taken him\ninto his warm room, who had treated him so kindly, and who had given him\nwarm wine and the very best apples!\n\nThe poor poet lay on the earth and wept, for the arrow had really flown\ninto his heart.\n\n\u201cFie!\u201d said he. \u201cHow naughty a boy Cupid is! I will tell all children\nabout him, that they may take care and not play with him, for he will\nonly cause them sorrow and many a heartache.\u201d\n\nAnd all good children to whom he related this story, took great heed\nof this naughty Cupid; but he made fools of them still, for he is\nastonishingly cunning. When the university students come from the\nlectures, he runs beside them in a black coat, and with a book under his\narm. It is quite impossible for them to know him, and they walk along\nwith him arm in arm, as if he, too, were a student like themselves; and\nthen, unperceived, he thrusts an arrow to their bosom. When the young\nmaidens come from being examined by the clergyman, or go to church to\nbe confirmed, there he is again close behind them. Yes, he is forever\nfollowing people. At the play, he sits in the great chandelier and burns\nin bright flames, so that people think it is really a flame, but they\nsoon discover it is something else. He roves about in the garden of the\npalace and upon the ramparts: yes, once he even shot your father and\nmother right in the heart. Ask them only and you will hear what they'll\ntell you. Oh, he is a naughty boy, that Cupid; you must never have\nanything to do with him. He is forever running after everybody. Only\nthink, he shot an arrow once at your old grandmother! But that is a\nlong time ago, and it is all past now; however, a thing of that sort she\nnever forgets. Fie, naughty Cupid! But now you know him, and you know,\ntoo, how ill-behaved he is!\n\n\n\n\nTHE RED SHOES\n\nThere was once a little girl who was very pretty and delicate, but in\nsummer she was forced to run about with bare feet, she was so poor, and\nin winter wear very large wooden shoes, which made her little insteps\nquite red, and that looked so dangerous!\n\nIn the middle of the village lived old Dame Shoemaker; she sat and sewed\ntogether, as well as she could, a little pair of shoes out of old red\nstrips of cloth; they were very clumsy, but it was a kind thought. They\nwere meant for the little girl. The little girl was called Karen.\n\nOn the very day her mother was buried, Karen received the red shoes,\nand wore them for the first time. They were certainly not intended for\nmourning, but she had no others, and with stockingless feet she followed\nthe poor straw coffin in them.\n\nSuddenly a large old carriage drove up, and a large old lady sat in it:\nshe looked at the little girl, felt compassion for her, and then said to\nthe clergyman:\n\n\u201cHere, give me the little girl. I will adopt her!\u201d\n\nAnd Karen believed all this happened on account of the red shoes, but\nthe old lady thought they were horrible, and they were burnt. But Karen\nherself was cleanly and nicely dressed; she must learn to read and sew;\nand people said she was a nice little thing, but the looking-glass said:\n\u201cThou art more than nice, thou art beautiful!\u201d\n\nNow the queen once travelled through the land, and she had her little\ndaughter with her. And this little daughter was a princess, and people\nstreamed to the castle, and Karen was there also, and the little\nprincess stood in her fine white dress, in a window, and let herself be\nstared at; she had neither a train nor a golden crown, but splendid\nred morocco shoes. They were certainly far handsomer than those Dame\nShoemaker had made for little Karen. Nothing in the world can be\ncompared with red shoes.\n\nNow Karen was old enough to be confirmed; she had new clothes and was to\nhave new shoes also. The rich shoemaker in the city took the measure of\nher little foot. This took place at his house, in his room; where stood\nlarge glass-cases, filled with elegant shoes and brilliant boots. All\nthis looked charming, but the old lady could not see well, and so had\nno pleasure in them. In the midst of the shoes stood a pair of red ones,\njust like those the princess had worn. How beautiful they were! The\nshoemaker said also they had been made for the child of a count, but had\nnot fitted.\n\n\u201cThat must be patent leather!\u201d said the old lady. \u201cThey shine so!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, they shine!\u201d said Karen, and they fitted, and were bought, but the\nold lady knew nothing about their being red, else she would never have\nallowed Karen to have gone in red shoes to be confirmed. Yet such was\nthe case.\n\nEverybody looked at her feet; and when she stepped through the chancel\ndoor on the church pavement, it seemed to her as if the old figures on\nthe tombs, those portraits of old preachers and preachers' wives, with\nstiff ruffs, and long black dresses, fixed their eyes on her red shoes.\nAnd she thought only of them as the clergyman laid his hand upon her\nhead, and spoke of the holy baptism, of the covenant with God, and how\nshe should be now a matured Christian; and the organ pealed so solemnly;\nthe sweet children's voices sang, and the old music-directors sang, but\nKaren only thought of her red shoes.\n\nIn the afternoon, the old lady heard from everyone that the shoes had\nbeen red, and she said that it was very wrong of Karen, that it was not\nat all becoming, and that in future Karen should only go in black shoes\nto church, even when she should be older.\n\nThe next Sunday there was the sacrament, and Karen looked at the black\nshoes, looked at the red ones--looked at them again, and put on the red\nshoes.\n\nThe sun shone gloriously; Karen and the old lady walked along the path\nthrough the corn; it was rather dusty there.\n\nAt the church door stood an old soldier with a crutch, and with a\nwonderfully long beard, which was more red than white, and he bowed to\nthe ground, and asked the old lady whether he might dust her shoes. And\nKaren stretched out her little foot.\n\n\u201cSee, what beautiful dancing shoes!\u201d said the soldier. \u201cSit firm when\nyou dance\u201d; and he put his hand out towards the soles.\n\nAnd the old lady gave the old soldier alms, and went into the church\nwith Karen.\n\nAnd all the people in the church looked at Karen's red shoes, and all\nthe pictures, and as Karen knelt before the altar, and raised the cup to\nher lips, she only thought of the red shoes, and they seemed to swim\nin it; and she forgot to sing her psalm, and she forgot to pray, \u201cOur\nFather in Heaven!\u201d\n\nNow all the people went out of church, and the old lady got into her\ncarriage. Karen raised her foot to get in after her, when the old\nsoldier said,\n\n\u201cLook, what beautiful dancing shoes!\u201d\n\nAnd Karen could not help dancing a step or two, and when she began her\nfeet continued to dance; it was just as though the shoes had power over\nthem. She danced round the church corner, she could not leave off; the\ncoachman was obliged to run after and catch hold of her, and he lifted\nher in the carriage, but her feet continued to dance so that she trod on\nthe old lady dreadfully. At length she took the shoes off, and then her\nlegs had peace.\n\nThe shoes were placed in a closet at home, but Karen could not avoid\nlooking at them.\n\nNow the old lady was sick, and it was said she could not recover. She\nmust be nursed and waited upon, and there was no one whose duty it was\nso much as Karen's. But there was a great ball in the city, to which\nKaren was invited. She looked at the old lady, who could not recover,\nshe looked at the red shoes, and she thought there could be no sin in\nit; she put on the red shoes, she might do that also, she thought. But\nthen she went to the ball and began to dance.\n\nWhen she wanted to dance to the right, the shoes would dance to the\nleft, and when she wanted to dance up the room, the shoes danced back\nagain, down the steps, into the street, and out of the city gate. She\ndanced, and was forced to dance straight out into the gloomy wood.\n\nThen it was suddenly light up among the trees, and she fancied it must\nbe the moon, for there was a face; but it was the old soldier with\nthe red beard; he sat there, nodded his head, and said, \u201cLook, what\nbeautiful dancing shoes!\u201d\n\nThen she was terrified, and wanted to fling off the red shoes, but they\nclung fast; and she pulled down her stockings, but the shoes seemed to\nhave grown to her feet. And she danced, and must dance, over fields and\nmeadows, in rain and sunshine, by night and day; but at night it was the\nmost fearful.\n\nShe danced over the churchyard, but the dead did not dance--they had\nsomething better to do than to dance. She wished to seat herself on a\npoor man's grave, where the bitter tansy grew; but for her there was\nneither peace nor rest; and when she danced towards the open church\ndoor, she saw an angel standing there. He wore long, white garments; he\nhad wings which reached from his shoulders to the earth; his countenance\nwas severe and grave; and in his hand he held a sword, broad and\nglittering.\n\n\u201cDance shalt thou!\u201d said he. \u201cDance in thy red shoes till thou art pale\nand cold! Till thy skin shrivels up and thou art a skeleton! Dance shalt\nthou from door to door, and where proud, vain children dwell, thou shalt\nknock, that they may hear thee and tremble! Dance shalt thou--!\u201d\n\n\u201cMercy!\u201d cried Karen. But she did not hear the angel's reply, for the\nshoes carried her through the gate into the fields, across roads and\nbridges, and she must keep ever dancing.\n\nOne morning she danced past a door which she well knew. Within sounded\na psalm; a coffin, decked with flowers, was borne forth. Then she knew\nthat the old lady was dead, and felt that she was abandoned by all, and\ncondemned by the angel of God.\n\nShe danced, and she was forced to dance through the gloomy night. The\nshoes carried her over stack and stone; she was torn till she bled; she\ndanced over the heath till she came to a little house. Here, she knew,\ndwelt the executioner; and she tapped with her fingers at the window,\nand said, \u201cCome out! Come out! I cannot come in, for I am forced to\ndance!\u201d\n\nAnd the executioner said, \u201cThou dost not know who I am, I fancy? I\nstrike bad people's heads off; and I hear that my axe rings!\u201d\n\n\u201cDon't strike my head off!\u201d said Karen. \u201cThen I can't repent of my sins!\nBut strike off my feet in the red shoes!\u201d\n\nAnd then she confessed her entire sin, and the executioner struck off\nher feet with the red shoes, but the shoes danced away with the little\nfeet across the field into the deep wood.\n\nAnd he carved out little wooden feet for her, and crutches, taught\nher the psalm criminals always sing; and she kissed the hand which had\nwielded the axe, and went over the heath.\n\n\u201cNow I have suffered enough for the red shoes!\u201d said she. \u201cNow I will\ngo into the church that people may see me!\u201d And she hastened towards the\nchurch door: but when she was near it, the red shoes danced before her,\nand she was terrified, and turned round. The whole week she was unhappy,\nand wept many bitter tears; but when Sunday returned, she said, \u201cWell,\nnow I have suffered and struggled enough! I really believe I am as good\nas many a one who sits in the church, and holds her head so high!\u201d\n\nAnd away she went boldly; but she had not got farther than the\nchurchyard gate before she saw the red shoes dancing before her; and she\nwas frightened, and turned back, and repented of her sin from her heart.\n\nAnd she went to the parsonage, and begged that they would take her\ninto service; she would be very industrious, she said, and would do\neverything she could; she did not care about the wages, only she wished\nto have a home, and be with good people. And the clergyman's wife was\nsorry for her and took her into service; and she was industrious and\nthoughtful. She sat still and listened when the clergyman read the Bible\nin the evenings. All the children thought a great deal of her; but when\nthey spoke of dress, and grandeur, and beauty, she shook her head.\n\nThe following Sunday, when the family was going to church, they asked\nher whether she would not go with them; but she glanced sorrowfully,\nwith tears in her eyes, at her crutches. The family went to hear the\nword of God; but she went alone into her little chamber; there was only\nroom for a bed and chair to stand in it; and here she sat down with her\nPrayer-Book; and whilst she read with a pious mind, the wind bore\nthe strains of the organ towards her, and she raised her tearful\ncountenance, and said, \u201cO God, help me!\u201d\n\nAnd the sun shone so clearly, and straight before her stood the angel\nof God in white garments, the same she had seen that night at the church\ndoor; but he no longer carried the sharp sword, but in its stead a\nsplendid green spray, full of roses. And he touched the ceiling with the\nspray, and the ceiling rose so high, and where he had touched it there\ngleamed a golden star. And he touched the walls, and they widened out,\nand she saw the organ which was playing; she saw the old pictures of the\npreachers and the preachers' wives. The congregation sat in cushioned\nseats, and sang out of their Prayer-Books. For the church itself had\ncome to the poor girl in her narrow chamber, or else she had come into\nthe church. She sat in the pew with the clergyman's family, and when\nthey had ended the psalm and looked up, they nodded and said, \u201cIt is\nright that thou art come!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was through mercy!\u201d she said.\n\nAnd the organ pealed, and the children's voices in the choir sounded so\nsweet and soft! The clear sunshine streamed so warmly through the window\ninto the pew where Karen sat! Her heart was so full of sunshine, peace,\nand joy, that it broke. Her soul flew on the sunshine to God, and there\nno one asked after the RED SHOES.","title":"Andersen's Fairy Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":55414}