THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES(Page 3)

*A Danish mile is nearly 4 3/4 English.
In a few seconds the watchman had done the fifty-two
thousand of our miles up to the moon, which, as everyone
knows, was formed out of matter much lighter than our
earth; and is, so we should say, as soft as newly-fallen
snow. He found himself on one of the many circumjacent
mountain-ridges with which we are acquainted by means
of Dr. Madler’s ‘Map of the Moon.’ Within, down it sunk
perpendicularly into a caldron, about a Danish mile in
depth; while below lay a town, whose appearance we can,
in some measure, realize to ourselves by beating the white
of an egg in a glass Of water. The matter of which it was
built was just as soft, and formed similar towers, and
domes, and pillars, transparent and rocking in the thin air;
while above his head our earth was rolling like a large fiery
ball.

He perceived immediately a quantity of beings who
were certainly what we call ‘men"; yet they looked
different to us. A far more, correct imagination than that
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
44 of 260
of the pseudo-Herschel* had created them; and if they had
been placed in rank and file, and copied by some skilful
painter’s hand, one would, without doubt, have exclaimed
involuntarily, ‘What a beautiful arabesque!’
*This relates to a book published some years ago in
Germany, and said to be by Herschel, which contained a
description of the moon and its inhabitants, written with
such a semblance of truth that many were deceived by the
imposture.
Probably a translation of the celebrated Moon hoax,
written by Richard A. Locke, and originally published in
New York.
They had a language too; but surely nobody can expect
that the soul of the watchman should understand it. Be
that as it may, it did comprehend it; for in our souls there
germinate far greater powers than we poor mortals, despite
all our cleverness, have any notion of. Does she not show
us—she the queen in the land of enchantment—her
astounding dramatic talent in all our dreams? There every
acquaintance appears and speaks upon the stage, so entirely
in character, and with the same tone of voice, that none of
us, when awake, were able to imitate it. How well can she
recall persons to our mind, of whom we have not thought
for years; when suddenly they step forth ‘every inch a
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
45 of 260
man,’ resembling the real personages, even to the finest
features, and become the heroes or heroines of our world
of dreams. In reality, such remembrances are rather
unpleasant: every sin, every evil thought, may, like a clock
with alarm or chimes, be repeated at pleasure; then the
question is if we can trust ourselves to give an account of
every unbecoming word in our heart and on our lips.
The watchman’s spirit understood the language of the
inhabitants of the moon pretty well. The Selenites*
disputed variously about our earth, and expressed their
doubts if it could be inhabited: the air, they said, must
certainly be too dense to allow any rational dweller in the
moon the necessary free respiration. They considered the
moon alone to be inhabited: they imagined it was the real
heart of the universe or planetary system, on which the
genuine Cosmopolites, or citizens of the world, dwelt.
What strange things men—no, what strange things
Selenites sometimes take into their heads!
*Dwellers in the moon.
About politics they had a good deal to say. But little
Denmark must take care what it is about, and not run
counter to the moon; that great realm, that might in an illhumor
bestir itself, and dash down a hail-storm in our
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
46 of 260
faces, or force the Baltic to overflow the sides of its
gigantic basin.
We will, therefore, not listen to what was spoken, and
on no condition run in the possibility of telling tales out of
school; but we will rather proceed, like good quiet
citizens, to East Street, and observe what happened
meanwhile to the body of the watchman.
He sat lifeless on the steps: the morning-star,* that is to
say, the heavy wooden staff, headed with iron spikes, and
which had nothing else in common with its sparkling
brother in the sky, had glided from his hand; while his
eyes were fixed with glassy stare on the moon, looking for
the good old fellow of a spirit which still haunted it.
*The watchmen in Germany, had formerly, and in
some places they still carry with them, on their rounds at
night, a sort of mace or club, known in ancient times by
the above denomination.
‘What’s the hour, watchman?’ asked a passer-by. But
when the watchman gave no reply, the merry roysterer,
who was now returning home from a noisy drinking bout,
took it into his bead to try what a tweak of the nose
would do, on which the supposed sleeper lost his balance,
the body lay motionless, stretched out on the pavement:
the man was dead. When the patrol came up, all his
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
47 of 260
comrades, who comprehended nothing of the whole
affair, were seized with a dreadful fright, for dead be was,
and he remained so. The proper authorities were informed
of the circumstance, people talked a good deal about it,
and in the morning the body was carried to the hospital.
Now that would be a very pretty joke, if the spirit
when it came back and looked for the body in East Street,
were not to find one. No doubt it would, in its anxiety,
run off to the police, and then to the ‘Hue and Cry’
office, to announce that ‘the finder will be handsomely
rewarded,’ and at last away to the hospital; yet we may
boldly assert that the soul is shrewdest when it shakes off
every fetter, and every sort of leading-string—the body
only makes it stupid.
The seemingly dead body of the watchman wandered,
as we have said, to the hospital, where it was brought into
the general viewing-room: and the first thing that was
done here was naturally to pull off the galoshes—when the
spirit, that was merely gone out on adventures, must have
returned with the quickness of lightning to its earthly
tenement. It took its direction towards the body in a
straight line; and a few seconds after, life began to show
itself in the man. He asserted that the preceding night had
been the worst that ever the malice of fate had allotted
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
48 of 260
him; he would not for two silver marks again go through
what he had endured while moon-stricken; but now,
however, it was over.
The same day he was discharged from the hospital as
perfectly cured; but the Shoes meanwhile remained
behind.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
49 of 260
IV. A Moment of Head Importance—An
Evening’s ‘Dramatic Readings’—A Most
Strange Journey
Every inhabitant of Copenhagen knows, from personal
inspection, how the entrance to Frederick’s Hospital
looks; but as it is possible that others, who are not
Copenhagen people, may also read this little work, we will
beforehand give a short description of it.
The extensive building is separated from the street by a
pretty high railing, the thick iron bars of which are so far
apart, that in all seriousness, it is said, some very thin
fellow had of a night occasionally squeezed himself
through to go and pay his little visits in the town. The part
of the body most difficult to manage on such occasions
was, no doubt, the head; here, as is so often the case in the
world, long-headed people get through best. So much,
then, for the introduction.
One of the young men, whose head, in a physical sense
only, might be said to be of the thickest, had the watch
that evening.The rain poured down in torrents; yet despite
these two obstacles, the young man was obliged to go out,
if it were but for a quarter of an hour; and as to telling the
door-keeper about it, that, he thought, was quite
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
50 of 260
unnecessary, if, with a whole skin, he were able to slip
through the railings. There, on the floor lay the galoshes,
which the watchman had forgotten; he never dreamed for
a moment that they were those of Fortune; and they
promised to do him good service in the wet; so he put
them on. The question now was, if he could squeeze
himself through the grating, for he had never tried before.
Well, there he stood.
‘Would to Heaven I had got my head through!’ said
he, involuntarily; and instantly through it slipped, easily
and without pain, notwithstanding it was pretty large and
thick. But now the rest of the body was to be got through!
‘Ah! I am much too stout,’ groaned he aloud, while
fixed as in a vice. ‘I had thought the head was the most
difficult part of the matter—oh! oh! I really cannot
squeeze myself through!’
He now wanted to pull his over-hasty head back again,
but he could not. For his neck there was room enough,
but for nothing more. His first feeling was of anger; his
next that his temper fell to zero. The Shoes of Fortune
had placed him in the most dreadful situation; and,
unfortunately, it never occurred to him to wish himself
free. The pitch-black clouds poured down their contents
in still heavier torrents; not a creature was to be seen in
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
51 of 260
the streets. To reach up to the bell was what he did not
like; to cry aloud for help would have availed him little;
besides, how ashamed would he have been to be found
caught in a trap, like an outwitted fox! How was he to
twist himself through! He saw clearly that it was his
irrevocable destiny to remain a prisoner till dawn, or,
perhaps, even late in the morning; then the smith must be
fetched to file away the bars; but all that would not be
done so quickly as he could think about it. The whole
Charity School, just opposite, would be in motion; all the
new booths, with their not very courtier-like swarm of
seamen, would join them out of curiosity, and would
greet him with a wild ‘hurrah!’ while he was standing in
his pillory: there would be a mob, a hissing, and rejoicing,
and jeering, ten times worse than in the rows about the
Jews some years ago—‘Oh, my blood is mounting to my
brain; ‘tis enough to drive one mad! I shall go wild! I
know not what to do. Oh! were I but loose; my dizziness
would then cease; oh, were my head but loose!’
You see he ought to have said that sooner; for the
moment he expressed the wish his head was free; and
cured of all his paroxysms of love, he hastened off to his
room, where the pains consequent on the fright the Shoes
had prepared for him, did not so soon take their leave.
eBook brought to you by
Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
52 of 260
But you must not think that the affair is over now; it
grows much worse.
The night passed, the next day also; but nobody came
to fetch the Shoes.
In the evening ‘Dramatic Readings’ were to be given at
the little theatre in King Street. The house was filled to
suffocation; and among other pieces to be recited was a
new poem by H. C. Andersen, called, My Aunt’s
Spectacles; the contents of which were pretty nearly as
follows:
‘A certain person had an aunt, who boasted of
particular skill in fortune-telling with cards, and who was
constantly being stormed by persons that wanted to have a
peep into futurity. But she was full of mystery about her
art, in which a certain pair of magic spectacles did her
essential service. Her nephew, a merry boy, who was his
aunt’s darling, begged so long for these spectacles, that, at
last, she lent him the treasure, after having informed him,
with many exhortations, that in order to execute the
interesting trick, he need only repair to some place where
a great many persons were assembled; and then, from a
higher position, whence he could overlook the crowd,
pass the company in review before him through his
spectacles. Immediately ‘the inner man’ of each individual
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
53 of 260
would be displayed before him, like a game of cards, in
which he unerringly might read what the future of every
person presented was to be. Well pleased the little
magician hastened away to prove the powers of the
spectacles in the theatre; no place seeming to him more
fitted for such a trial. He begged permission of the worthy
audience, and set his spectacles on his nose. A motley
phantasmagoria presents itself before him, which he
describes in a few satirical touches, yet without expressing
his opinion openly: he tells the people enough to set them
all thinking and guessing; but in order to hurt nobody, he
wraps his witty oracular judgments in a transparent veil, or
rather in a lurid thundercloud, shooting forth bright sparks
of wit, that they may fall in the powder-magazine of the
expectant audience.’
The humorous poem was admirably recited, and the
speaker much applauded. Among the audience was the
young man of the hospital, who seemed to have forgotten
his adventure of the preceding night. He had on the
Shoes; for as yet no lawful owner had appeared to claim
them; and besides it was so very dirty out-of-doors, they
were just the thing for him, he thought.
The beginning of the poem he praised with great
generosity: he even found the idea original and effective.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
54 of 260
But that the end of it, like the Rhine, was very
insignificant, proved, in his opinion, the author’s want of
invention; he was without genius, etc. This was an
excellent opportunity to have said something clever.
Meanwhile he was haunted by the idea—he should like
to possess such a pair of spectacles himself; then, perhaps,
by using them circumspectly, one would be able to look
into people’s hearts, which, he thought, would be far
more interesting than merely to see what was to happen
next year; for that we should all know in proper time, but
the other never.
‘I can now,’ said he to himself, ‘fancy the whole row of
ladies and gentlemen sitting there in the front row; if one
could but see into their hearts—yes, that would be a
revelation—a sort of bazar. In that lady yonder, so
strangely dressed, I should find for certain a large milliner’s
shop; in that one the shop is empty, but it wants cleaning
plain enough. But there would also be some good stately
shops among them. Alas!’ sighed he, ‘I know one in which
all is stately; but there sits already a spruce young
shopman, which is the only thing that’s amiss in the whole
shop. All would be splendidly decked out, and we should
hear, ‘Walk in, gentlemen, pray walk in; here you will
find all you please to want.’ Ah! I wish to Heaven I could
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
55 of 260
walk in and take a trip right through the hearts of those
present!’
And behold! to the Shoes of Fortune this was the cue;
the whole man shrunk together and a most uncommon
journey through the hearts of the front row of spectators,
now began. The first heart through which he came, was
that of a middle-aged lady, but he instantly fancied himself
in the room of the ‘Institution for the cure of the crooked
and deformed,’ where casts of mis-shapen limbs are
displayed in naked reality on the wall. Yet there was this
difference, in the institution the casts were taken at the
entry of the patient; but here they were retained and
guarded in the heart while the sound persons went away.
They were, namely, casts of female friends, whose bodily
or mental deformities were here most faithfully preserved.
With the snake-like writhings of an idea he glided into
another female heart; but this seemed to him like a large
holy fane.* The white dove of innocence fluttered over
the altar. How gladly would he have sunk upon his knees;
but he must away to the next heart; yet he still heard the
pealing tones of the organ, and he himself seemed to have
become a newer and a better man; he felt unworthy to
tread the neighboring sanctuary which a poor garret, with
a sick bed-rid mother, revealed. But God’s warm sun
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
56 of 260
streamed through the open window; lovely roses nodded
from the wooden flower-boxes on the roof, and two skyblue
birds sang rejoicingly, while the sick mother implored
God’s richest blessings on her pious daughter.
* temple
He now crept on hands and feet through a butcher’s
shop; at least on every side, and above and below, there
was nought but flesh. It was the heart of a most respectable
rich man, whose name is certain to be found in the
Directory.
He was now in the heart of the wife of this worthy
gentleman. It was an old, dilapidated, mouldering dovecot.
The husband’s portrait was used as a weather-cock, which
was connected in some way or other with the doors, and
so they opened and shut of their own accord, whenever
the stern old husband turned round.
Hereupon he wandered into a boudoir formed entirely
of mirrors, like the one in Castle Rosenburg; but here the
glasses magnified to an astonishing degree. On the floor, in
the middle of the room, sat, like a Dalai-Lama, the
insignificant ‘Self’ of the person, quite confounded at his
own greatness. He then imagined he had got into a
needle-case full of pointed needles of every size.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
57 of 260
‘This is certainly the heart of an old maid,’ thought he.
But he was mistaken. It was the heart of a young military
man; a man, as people said, of talent and feeling.
In the greatest perplexity, he now came out of the last
heart in the row; he was unable to put his thoughts in
order, and fancied that his too lively imagination had run
away with him.
‘Good Heavens!’ sighed he. ‘I have surely a disposition
to madness—’tis dreadfully hot here; my blood boils in my
veins and my head is burning like a coal.’ And he now
remembered the important event of the evening before,
how his head had got jammed in between the iron railings
of the hospital. ‘That’s what it is, no doubt,’ said he. ‘I
must do something in time: under such circumstances a
Russian bath might do me good. I only wish I were
already on the upper bank"*
*In these Russian (vapor) baths the person extends
himself on a bank or form, and as he gets accustomed to
the heat, moves to another higher up towards the ceiling,
where, of course, the vapor is warmest. In this manner he
ascends gradually to the highest.
And so there he lay on the uppermost bank in the
vapor-bath; but with all his clothes on, in his boots and
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
58 of 260
galoshes, while the hot drops fell scalding from the ceiling
on his face.
‘Holloa!’ cried he, leaping down. The bathing
attendant, on his side, uttered a loud cry of astonishment
when he beheld in the bath, a man completely dressed.
The other, however, retained sufficient presence of
mind to whisper to him, ‘‘Tis a bet, and I have won it!’
But the first thing he did as soon as he got home, was to
have a large blister put on his chest and back to draw out
his madness.
The next morning he had a sore chest and a bleeding
back; and, excepting the fright, that was all that he had
gained by the Shoes of Fortune.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
59 of 260
V. Metamorphosis of the Copying-Clerk
The watchman, whom we have certainly not forgotten,
thought meanwhile of the galoshes he had found and
taken with him to the hospital; he now went to fetch
them; and as neither the lieutenant, nor anybody else in
the street, claimed them as his property, they were
delivered over to the police-office.*
* As on the continent, in all law and police practices
nothing is verbal, but any circumstance, however trifling,
is reduced to writing, the labor, as well as the number of
papers that thus accumulate, is enormous. In a policeoffice,
consequently, we find copying-clerks among many
other scribes of various denominations, of which, it seems,
our hero was one.
‘Why, I declare the Shoes look just like my own,’ said
one of the clerks, eying the newly-found treasure, whose
hidden powers, even he, sharp as he was, was not able to
discover. ‘One must have more than the eye of a
shoemaker to know one pair from the other,’ said he,
soliloquizing; and putting, at the same time, the galoshes
in search of an owner, beside his own in the corner.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
60 of 260
‘Here, sir!’ said one of the men, who panting brought
him a tremendous pile of papers.
The copying-clerk turned round and spoke awhile with
the man about the reports and legal documents in
question; but when he had finished, and his eye fell again
on the Shoes, he was unable to say whether those to the
left or those to the right belonged to him. ‘At all events it
must be those which are wet,’ thought he; but this time,
in spite of his cleverness, he guessed quite wrong, for it
was just those of Fortune which played as it were into his
hands, or rather on his feet. And why, I should like to
know, are the police never to be wrong? So he put them
on quickly, stuck his papers in his pocket, and took besides
a few under his arm, intending to look them through at
home to make the necessary notes. It was noon; and the
weather, that had threatened rain, began to clear up, while
gaily dressed holiday folks filled the streets. ‘A little trip to
Fredericksburg would do me no great harm,’ thought he;
‘for I, poor beast of burden that I am, have so much to
annoy me, that I don’t know what a good appetite is. ‘Tis
a bitter crust, alas! at which I am condemned to gnaw!’
Nobody could be more steady or quiet than this young
man; we therefore wish him joy of the excursion with all
our heart; and it will certainly be beneficial for a person
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
61 of 260
who leads so sedentary a life. In the park he met a friend,
one of our young poets, who told him that the following
day he should set out on his long-intended tour.
‘So you are going away again!’ said the clerk. ‘You are
a very free and happy being; we others are chained by the
leg and held fast to our desk.’
‘Yes; but it is a chain, friend, which ensures you the
blessed bread of existence,’ answered the poet. ‘You need
feel no care for the coming morrow: when you are old,
you receive a pension.’
‘True,’ said the clerk, shrugging his shoulders; ‘and yet
you are the better off. To sit at one’s ease and poetise—
that is a pleasure; everybody has something agreeable to
say to you, and you are always your own master. No,
friend, you should but try what it is to sit from one year’s
end to the other occupied with and judging the most
trivial matters.’
The poet shook his head, the copying-clerk did the
same. Each one kept to his own opinion, and so they
separated.
‘It’s a strange race, those poets!’ said the clerk, who was
very fond of soliloquizing. ‘I should like some day, just for
a trial, to take such nature upon me, and be a poet myself;
I am very sure I should make no such miserable verses as
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
62 of 260
the others. Today, methinks, is a most delicious day for a
poet. Nature seems anew to celebrate her awakening into
life. The air is so unusually clear, the clouds sail on so
buoyantly, and from the green herbage a fragrance is
exhaled that fills me with delight, For many a year have I
not felt as at this moment.’
We see already, by the foregoing effusion, that he is
become a poet; to give further proof of it, however,
would in most cases be insipid, for it is a most foolish
notion to fancy a poet different from other men. Among
the latter there may be far more poetical natures than
many an acknowledged poet, when examined more
closely, could boast of; the difference only is, that the poet
possesses a better mental memory, on which account he is
able to retain the feeling and the thought till they can be
embodied by means of words; a faculty which the others
do not possess. But the transition from a commonplace
nature to one that is richly endowed, demands always a
more or less breakneck leap over a certain abyss which
yawns threateningly below; and thus must the sudden
change with the clerk strike the reader.
‘The sweet air!’ continued he of the police-office, in
his dreamy imaginings; ‘how it reminds me of the violets
in the garden of my aunt Magdalena! Yes, then I was a
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
63 of 260
little wild boy, who did not go to school very regularly. O
heavens! ‘tis a long time since I have thought on those
times. The good old soul! She lived behind the Exchange.
She always had a few twigs or green shoots in water—let
the winter rage without as it might. The violets exhaled
their sweet breath, whilst I pressed against the
windowpanes covered with fantastic frost-work the copper
coin I had heated on the stove, and so made peep-holes.
What splendid vistas were then opened to my view! What
change-what magnificence! Yonder in the canal lay the
ships frozen up, and deserted by their whole crews, with a
screaming crow for the sole occupant. But when the
spring, with a gentle stirring motion, announced her
arrival, a new and busy life arose; with songs and hurrahs
the ice was sawn asunder, the ships were fresh tarred and
rigged, that they might sail away to distant lands. But I
have remained here—must always remain here, sitting at
my desk in the office, and patiently see other people fetch
their passports to go abroad. Such is my fate! Alas!’—
sighed he, and was again silent. ‘Great Heaven! What is
come to me! Never have I thought or felt like this before!
It must be the summer air that affects me with feelings
almost as disquieting as they are refreshing.’
eBook brought to you by
Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
64 of 260
He felt in his pocket for the papers. ‘These policereports
will soon stem the torrent of my ideas, and
effectually hinder any rebellious overflowing of the timeworn
banks of official duties"; he said to himself
consolingly, while his eye ran over the first page. ‘DAME
TIGBRITH, tragedy in five acts.’ ‘What is that? And yet
it is undeniably my own handwriting. Have I written the
tragedy? Wonderful, very wonderful! —And this—what
have I here? ‘INTRIGUE ON THE RAMPARTS; or
THE DAY OF REPENTANCE: vaudeville with new
songs to the most favorite airs.’ The deuce! Where did I
get all this rubbish? Some one must have slipped it slyly
into my pocket for a joke. There is too a letter to me; a
crumpled letter and the seal broken.’
Yes; it was not a very polite epistle from the manager
of a theatre, in which both pieces were flatly refused.
‘Hem! hem!’ said the clerk breathlessly, and quite
exhausted he seated himself on a bank. His thoughts were
so elastic, his heart so tender; and involuntarily he picked
one of the nearest flowers. It is a simple daisy, just bursting
out of the bud. What the botanist tells us after a number of
imperfect lectures, the flower proclaimed in a minute. It
related the mythus of its birth, told of the power of the
sun-light that spread out its delicate leaves, and forced
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
65 of 260
them to impregnate the air with their incense—and then
he thought of the manifold struggles of life, which in like
manner awaken the budding flowers of feeling in our
bosom. Light and air contend with chivalric emulation for
the love of the fair flower that bestowed her chief favors
on the latter; full of longing she turned towards the light,
and as soon as it vanished, rolled her tender leaves together
and slept in the embraces of the air. ‘It is the light which
adorns me,’ said the flower.
‘But ‘tis the air which enables thee to breathe,’ said the
poet’s voice.
Close by stood a boy who dashed his stick into a wet
ditch. The drops of water splashed up to the green leafy
roof, and the clerk thought of the million of ephemera
which in a single drop were thrown up to a height, that
was as great doubtless for their size, as for us if we were to
be hurled above the clouds. While he thought of this and
of the whole metamorphosis he had undergone, he smiled
and said, ‘I sleep and dream; but it is wonderful how one
can dream so naturally, and know besides so exactly that it
is but a dream. If only to-morrow on awaking, I could
again call all to mind so vividly! I seem in unusually good
spirits; my perception of things is clear, I feel as light and
cheerful as though I were in heaven; but I know for a
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
66 of 260
certainty, that if to-morrow a dim remembrance of it
should swim before my mind, it will then seem nothing
but stupid nonsense, as I have often experienced already—
especially before I enlisted under the banner of the police,
for that dispels like a whirlwind all the visions of an
unfettered imagination. All we hear or say in a dream that
is fair and beautiful is like the gold of the subterranean
spirits; it is rich and splendid when it is given us, but
viewed by daylight we find only withered leaves. Alas!’ he
sighed quite sorrowful, and gazed at the chirping birds that
hopped contentedly from branch to branch, ‘they are
much better off than I! To fly must be a heavenly art; and
happy do I prize that creature in which it is innate. Yes!
Could I exchange my nature with any other creature, I
fain would be such a happy little lark!’
He had hardly uttered these hasty words when the
skirts and sleeves of his coat folded themselves together
into wings; the clothes became feathers, and the galoshes
claws. He observed it perfectly, and laughed in his heart.
‘Now then, there is no doubt that I am dreaming; but I
never before was aware of such mad freaks as these.’ And
up he flew into the green roof and sang; but in the song
there was no poetry, for the spirit of the poet was gone.
The Shoes, as is the case with anybody who does what he
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
67 of 260
has to do properly, could only attend to one thing at a
time. He wanted to be a poet, and he was one; he now
wished to be a merry chirping bird: but when he was
metamorphosed into one, the former peculiarities ceased
immediately. ‘It is really pleasant enough,’ said he: ‘the
whole day long I sit in the office amid the driest lawpapers,
and at night I fly in my dream as a lark in the
gardens of Fredericksburg; one might really write a very
pretty comedy upon it.’ He now fluttered down into the
grass, turned his head gracefully on every side, and with
his bill pecked the pliant blades of grass, which, in
comparison to his present size, seemed as majestic as the
palm-branches of northern Africa.
Unfortunately the pleasure lasted but a moment.
Presently black night overshadowed our enthusiast, who
had so entirely missed his part of copying-clerk at a policeoffice;
some vast object seemed to be thrown over him. It
was a large oil-skin cap, which a sailor-boy of the quay
had thrown over the struggling bird; a coarse hand sought
its way carefully in under the broad rim, and seized the
clerk over the back and wings. In the first moment of fear,
he called, indeed, as loud as he could-"You impudent little
blackguard! I am a copying-clerk at the police-office; and
you know you cannot insult any belonging to the
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
68 of 260