THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES(Page 5)

‘It is dreadfully cold,’ said the Mouse. ‘But for that, it
would be delightful here, old Fir, wouldn’t it?’
‘I am by no means old,’ said the Fir Tree. ‘There’s
many a one considerably older than I am.’
‘Where do you come from,’ asked the Mice; ‘and what
can you do?’ They were so extremely curious. ‘Tell us
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
92 of 260
about the most beautiful spot on the earth. Have you
never been there? Were you never in the larder, where
cheeses lie on the shelves, and hams hang from above;
where one dances about on tallow candles: that place
where one enters lean, and comes out again fat and
portly?’
‘I know no such place,’ said the Tree. ‘But I know the
wood, where the sun shines and where the little birds
sing.’ And then he told all about his youth; and the little
Mice had never heard the like before; and they listened
and said,

‘Well, to be sure! How much you have seen! How
happy you must have been!’
‘I!’ said the Fir Tree, thinking over what he had himself
related. ‘Yes, in reality those were happy times.’ And then
he told about Christmas-eve, when he was decked out
with cakes and candles.
‘Oh,’ said the little Mice, ‘how fortunate you have
been, old Fir Tree!’
‘I am by no means old,’ said he. ‘I came from the wood
this winter; I am in my prime, and am only rather short
for my age.’
‘What delightful stories you know,’ said the Mice: and
the next night they came with four other little Mice, who
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
93 of 260
were to hear what the Tree recounted: and the more he
related, the more he remembered himself; and it appeared
as if those times had really been happy times. ‘But they
may still come—they may still come! Humpy-Dumpy fell
downstairs, and yet he got a princess!’ and he thought at
the moment of a nice little Birch Tree growing out in the
woods: to the Fir, that would be a real charming princess.
‘Who is Humpy-Dumpy?’ asked the Mice. So then the
Fir Tree told the whole fairy tale, for he could remember
every single word of it; and the little Mice jumped for joy
up to the very top of the Tree. Next night two more
Mice came, and on Sunday two Rats even; but they said
the stories were not interesting, which vexed the little
Mice; and they, too, now began to think them not so very
amusing either.
‘Do you know only one story?’ asked the Rats.
‘Only that one,’ answered the Tree. ‘I heard it on my
happiest evening; but I did not then know how happy I
was.’
‘It is a very stupid story! Don’t you know one about
bacon and tallow candles? Can’t you tell any larder
stories?’
‘No,’ said the Tree.
‘Then good-bye,’ said the Rats; and they went home.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
94 of 260
At last the little Mice stayed away also; and the Tree
sighed: ‘After all, it was very pleasant when the sleek little
Mice sat round me, and listened to what I told them.
Now that too is over. But I will take good care to enjoy
myself when I am brought out again.’
But when was that to be? Why, one morning there
came a quantity of people and set to work in the loft. The
trunks were moved, the tree was pulled out and thrown—
rather hard, it is true—down on the floor, but a man drew
him towards the stairs, where the daylight shone.
‘Now a merry life will begin again,’ thought the Tree.
He felt the fresh air, the first sunbeam—and now he was
out in the courtyard. All passed so quickly, there was so
much going on around him, the Tree quite forgot to look
to himself. The court adjoined a garden, and all was in
flower; the roses hung so fresh and odorous over the
balustrade, the lindens were in blossom, the Swallows flew
by, and said, ‘Quirre-vit! My husband is come!’ but it was
not the Fir Tree that they meant.
‘Now, then, I shall really enjoy life,’ said he exultingly,
and spread out his branches; but, alas, they were all
withered and yellow! It was in a corner that he lay, among
weeds and nettles. The golden star of tinsel was still on the
top of the Tree, and glittered in the sunshine.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
95 of 260
In the court-yard some of the merry children were
playing who had danced at Christmas round the Fir Tree,
and were so glad at the sight of him. One of the youngest
ran and tore off the golden star.
‘Only look what is still on the ugly old Christmas tree!’
said he, trampling on the branches, so that they all cracked
beneath his feet.
And the Tree beheld all the beauty of the flowers, and
the freshness in the garden; he beheld himself, and wished
he had remained in his dark corner in the loft; he thought
of his first youth in the wood, of the merry Christmas-eve,
and of the little Mice who had listened with so much
pleasure to the story of Humpy-Dumpy.
‘‘Tis over—’tis past!’ said the poor Tree. ‘Had I but
rejoiced when I had reason to do so! But now ‘tis past, ‘tis
past!’
And the gardener’s boy chopped the Tree into small
pieces; there was a whole heap lying there. The wood
flamed up splendidly under the large brewing copper, and
it sighed so deeply! Each sigh was like a shot.
The boys played about in the court, and the youngest
wore the gold star on his breast which the Tree had had
on the happiest evening of his life. However, that was
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
96 of 260
over now—the Tree gone, the story at an end. All, all was
over—every tale must end at last.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
97 of 260
THE SNOW QUEEN
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
98 of 260
FIRST STORY. Which Treats of a Mirror
and of the Splinters
Now then, let us begin. When we are at the end of the
story, we shall know more than we know now: but to
begin.
Once upon a time there was a wicked sprite, indeed he
was the most mischievous of all sprites. One day he was in
a very good humor, for he had made a mirror with the
power of causing all that was good and beautiful when it
was reflected therein, to look poor and mean; but that
which was good-for-nothing and looked ugly was shown
magnified and increased in ugliness. In this mirror the
most beautiful landscapes looked like boiled spinach, and
the best persons were turned into frights, or appeared to
stand on their heads; their faces were so distorted that they
were not to be recognised; and if anyone had a mole, you
might be sure that it would be magnified and spread over
both nose and mouth.
‘That’s glorious fun!’ said the sprite. If a good thought
passed through a man’s mind, then a grin was seen in the
mirror, and the sprite laughed heartily at his clever
discovery. All the little sprites who went to his school—
for he kept a sprite school—told each other that a miracle
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
99 of 260
had happened; and that now only, as they thought, it
would be possible to see how the world really looked.
They ran about with the mirror; and at last there was not a
land or a person who was not represented distorted in the
mirror. So then they thought they would fly up to the sky,
and have a joke there. The higher they flew with the
mirror, the more terribly it grinned: they could hardly
hold it fast. Higher and higher still they flew, nearer and
nearer to the stars, when suddenly the mirror shook so
terribly with grinning, that it flew out of their hands and
fell to the earth, where it was dashed in a hundred million
and more pieces. And now it worked much more evil
than before; for some of these pieces were hardly so large
as a grain of sand, and they flew about in the wide world,
and when they got into people’s eyes, there they stayed;
and then people saw everything perverted, or only had an
eye for that which was evil. This happened because the
very smallest bit had the same power which the whole
mirror had possessed. Some persons even got a splinter in
their heart, and then it made one shudder, for their heart
became like a lump of ice. Some of the broken pieces
were so large that they were used for windowpanes,
through which one could not see one’s friends. Other
pieces were put in spectacles; and that was a sad affair
eBook brought to you by
Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
100 of 260
when people put on their glasses to see well and rightly.
Then the wicked sprite laughed till he almost choked, for
all this tickled his fancy. The fine splinters still flew about
in the air: and now we shall hear what happened next.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
101 of 260
SECOND STORY. A Little Boy and a Little
Girl
In a large town, where there are so many houses, and
so many people, that there is no roof left for everybody to
have a little garden; and where, on this account, most.
persons are obliged to content themselves with flowers in
pots; there lived two little children, who had a garden
somewhat larger than a flower-pot. They were not brother
and sister; but they cared for each other as much as if they
were. Their parents lived exactly opposite. They inhabited
two garrets; and where the roof of the one house joined
that of the other, and the gutter ran along the extreme end
of it, there was to each house a small window: one needed
only to step over the gutter to get from one window to
the other.
The children’s parents had large wooden boxes there,
in which vegetables for the kitchen were planted, and little
rosetrees besides: there was a rose in each box, and they
grew splendidly. They now thought of placing the boxes
across the gutter, so that they nearly reached from one
window to the other, and looked just like two walls of
flowers. The tendrils of the peas hung down over the
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
102 of 260
boxes; and the rose-trees shot up long branches, twined
round the windows, and then bent towards each other: it
was almost like a triumphant arch of foliage and flowers.
The boxes were very high, and the children knew that
they must not creep over them; so they often obtained
permission to get out of the windows to each other, and
to sit on their little stools among the roses, where they
could play delight fully. In winter there was an end of this
pleasure. The windows were often frozen over; but then
they heated copper farthings on the stove, and laid the hot
farthing on the windowpane, and then they had a capital
peep-hole, quite nicely rounded; and out of each peeped a
gentle friendly eye—it was the little boy and the little girl
who were looking out. His name was Kay, hers was
Gerda. In summer, with one jump, they could get to each
other; but in winter they were obliged first to go down
the long stairs, and then up the long stairs again: and outof-
doors there was quite a snow-storm.
‘It is the white bees that are swarming,’ said Kay’s old
grandmother.
‘Do the white bees choose a queen?’ asked the little
boy; for he knew that the honey-bees always have one.
‘Yes,’ said the grandmother, ‘she flies where the swarm
hangs in the thickest clusters. She is the largest of all; and
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
103 of 260
she can never remain quietly on the earth, but goes up
again into the black clouds. Many a winter’s night she flies
through the streets of the town, and peeps in at the
windows; and they then freeze in so wondrous a manner
that they look like flowers.’
‘Yes, I have seen it,’ said both the children; and so they
knew that it was true.
‘Can the Snow Queen come in?’ said the little girl.
‘Only let her come in!’ said the little boy. ‘Then I’d put
her on the stove, and she’d melt.’
And then his grandmother patted his head and told him
other stories.
In the evening, when little Kay was at home, and half
undressed, he climbed up on the chair by the window,
and peeped out of the little hole. A few snow-flakes were
falling, and one, the largest of all, remained lying on the
edge of a flower-pot.
The flake of snow grew larger and larger; and at last it
was like a young lady, dressed in the finest white gauze,
made of a million little flakes like stars. She was so
beautiful and delicate, but she was of ice, of dazzling,
sparkling ice; yet she lived; her eyes gazed fixedly, like two
stars; but there was neither quiet nor repose in them. She
nodded towards the window, and beckoned with her
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
104 of 260
hand. The little boy was frightened, and jumped down
from the chair; it seemed to him as if, at the same
moment, a large bird flew past the window.
The next day it was a sharp frost—and then the spring
came; the sun shone, the green leaves appeared, the
swallows built their nests, the windows were opened, and
the little children again sat in their pretty garden, high up
on the leads at the top of the house.
That summer the roses flowered in unwonted beauty.
The little girl had learned a hymn, in which there was
something about roses; and then she thought of her own
flowers; and she sang the verse to the little boy, who then
sang it with her:
‘The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, And
angels descend there the children to greet.’
And the children held each other by the hand, kissed
the roses, looked up at the clear sunshine, and spoke as
though they really saw angels there. What lovely summerdays
those were! How delightful to be out in the air, near
the fresh rose-bushes, that seem as if they would never
finish blossoming!
Kay and Gerda looked at the picture-book full of beasts
and of birds; and it was then—the clock in the churchtower
was just striking five—that Kay said, ‘Oh! I feel
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
105 of 260
such a sharp pain in my heart; and now something has got
into my eye!’
The little girl put her arms around his neck. He winked
his eves; now there was nothing to be seen.
‘I think it is out now,’ said he; but it was not. It was
just one of those pieces of glass from the magic mirror that
had got into his eye; and poor Kay had got another piece
right in his heart. It will soon become like ice. It did not
hurt any longer, but there it was.
‘What are you crying for?’ asked he. ‘You look so ugly!
There’s nothing the matter with me. Ah,’ said he at once,
‘that rose is cankered! And look, this one is quite crooked!
After all, these roses are very ugly! They are just like the
box they are planted in!’ And then he gave the box a good
kick with his foot, and pulled both the roses up.
‘What are you doing?’ cried the little girl; and as he
perceived her fright, he pulled up another rose, got in at
the window, and hastened off from dear little Gerda.
Afterwards, when she brought her picture-book, he
asked, ‘What horrid beasts have you there?’ And if his
grandmother told them stories, he always interrupted her;
besides, if he could manage it, he would get behind her,
put on her spectacles, and imitate her way of speaking; he
copied all her ways, and then everybody laughed at him.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
106 of 260
He was soon able to imitate the gait and manner of
everyone in the street. Everything that was peculiar and
displeasing in them—that Kay knew how to imitate: and
at such times all the people said, ‘The boy is certainly very
clever!’ But it was the glass he had got in his eye; the glass
that was sticking in his heart, which made him tease even
little Gerda, whose whole soul was devoted to him.
His games now were quite different to what they had
formerly been, they were so very knowing. One winter’s
day, when the flakes of snow were flying about, he spread
the skirts of his blue coat, and caught the snow as it fell.
‘Look through this glass, Gerda,’ said he. And every
flake seemed larger, and appeared like a magnificent
flower, or beautiful star; it was splendid to look at!
‘Look, how clever!’ said Kay. ‘That’s much more
interesting than real flowers! They are as exact as possible;
there i not a fault in them, if they did not melt!’
It was not long after this, that Kay came one day with
large gloves on, and his little sledge at his back, and
bawled right into Gerda’s ears, ‘I have permission to go
out into the square where the others are playing"; and off
he was in a moment.
There, in the market-place, some of the boldest of the
boys used to tie their sledges to the carts as they passed by,
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
107 of 260
and so they were pulled along, and got a good ride. It was
so capital! Just as they were in the very height of their
amusement, a large sledge passed by: it was painted quite
white, and there was someone in it wrapped up in a rough
white mantle of fur, with a rough white fur cap on his
head. The sledge drove round the square twice, and Kay
tied on his sledge as quickly as he could, and off he drove
with it. On they went quicker and quicker into the next
street; and the person who drove turned round to Kay,
and nodded to him in a friendly manner, just as if they
knew each other. Every time he was going to untie his
sledge, the person nodded to him, and then Kay sat quiet;
and so on they went till they came outside the gates of the
town. Then the snow began to fall so thickly that the little
boy could not see an arm’s length before him, but still on
he went: when suddenly he let go the string he held in his
hand in order to get loose from the sledge, but it was of
no use; still the little vehicle rushed on with the quickness
of the wind. He then cried as loud as he could, but no one
beard him; the snow drifted and the sledge flew on, and
sometimes it gave a jerk as though they were driving over
hedges and ditches. He was quite frightened, and he tried
to repeat the Lord’s Prayer; but all he could do, he was
only able to remember the multiplication table.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
108 of 260
The snow-flakes grew larger and larger, till at last they
looked just like great white fowls. Suddenly they flew on
one side; the large sledge stopped, and the person who
drove rose up. It was a lady; her cloak and cap were of
snow. She was tall and of slender figure, and of a dazzling
whiteness. It was the Snow Queen.
‘We have travelled fast,’ said she; ‘but it is freezingly
cold. Come under my bearskin.’ And she put him in the
sledge beside her, wrapped the fur round him, and he felt
as though he were sinking in a snow-wreath.
‘Are you still cold?’ asked she; and then she kissed his
forehead. Ah! it was colder than ice; it penetrated to his
very heart, which was already almost a frozen lump; it
seemed to him as if he were about to die—but a moment
more and it was quite congenial to him, and he did not
remark the cold that was around him.
‘My sledge! Do not forget my sledge!’ It was the first
thing he thought of. It was there tied to one of the white
chickens, who flew along with it on his back behind the
large sledge. The Snow Queen kissed Kay once more, and
then he forgot little Gerda, grandmother, and all whom he
had left at his home.
‘Now you will have no more kisses,’ said she, ‘or else I
should kiss you to death!’
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
109 of 260
Kay looked at her. She was very beautiful; a more
clever, or a more lovely countenance he could not fancy
to himself; and she no longer appeared of ice as before,
when she sat outside the window, and beckoned to him;
in his eyes she was perfect, he did not fear her at all, and
told her that he could calculate in his head and with
fractions, even; that he knew the number of square miles
there were in the different countries, and how many
inhabitants they contained; and she smiled while he spoke.
It then seemed to him as if what he knew was not enough,
and he looked upwards in the large huge empty space
above him, and on she flew with him; flew high over,the
black clouds, while the storm moaned and whistled as
though it were singing some old tune. On they flew over
woods and lakes, over seas, and many lands; and beneath
them the chilling storm rushed fast, the wolves howled,
the snow crackled; above them flew large screaming
crows, but higher up appeared the moon, quite large and
bright; and it was on it that Kay gazed during the long
long winter’s night; while by day he slept at the feet of the
Snow Queen.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
110 of 260
THIRD STORY. Of the Flower-Garden At
the Old Woman’s Who Understood
Witchcraft
But what became of little Gerda when Kay did not
return? Where could he be? Nobody knew; nobody could
give any intelligence. All the boys knew was, that they had
seen him tie his sledge to another large and splendid one,
which drove down the street and out of the town.
Nobody knew where he was; many sad tears were shed,
and little Gerda wept long and bitterly; at last she said he
must be dead; that he had been drowned in the river
which flowed close to the town. Oh! those were very long
and dismal winter evenings!
At last spring came, with its warm sunshine.
‘Kay is dead and gone!’ said little Gerda.
‘That I don’t believe,’ said the Sunshine.
‘Kay is dead and gone!’ said she to the Swallows.
‘That I don’t believe,’ said they: and at last little Gerda
did not think so any longer either.
‘I’ll put on my red shoes,’ said she, one morning; ‘Kay
has never seen them, and then I’ll go down to the river
and ask there.’
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
111 of 260
It was quite early; she kissed her old grandmother, who
was still asleep, put on her red shoes, and went alone to
the river.
‘Is it true that you have taken my little playfellow? I
will make you a present of my red shoes, if you will give
him back to me.’
And, as it seemed to her, the blue waves nodded in a
strange manner; then she took off her red shoes, the most
precious things she possessed, and threw them both into
the river. But they fell close to the bank, and the little
waves bore them immediately to land; it was as if the
stream would not take what was dearest to her; for in
reality it had not got little, Kay; but Gerda thought that
she had not thrown the shoes out far enough, so she
clambered into a boat which lay among the rushes, went
to the farthest end, and threw out the shoes. But the boat
was not fastened, and the motion which she occasioned,
made it drift from the shore. She observed this, and
hastened to get back; but before she could do so, the boat
was more than a yard from the land, and was gliding
quickly onward.
Little Gerda was very frightened, and began to cry; but
no one heard her except the sparrows, and they could not
carry her to land; but they flew along the bank, and sang
eBook brought to you by
Create, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version.
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
112 of 260
as if to comfort her, ‘Here we are! Here we are!’ The boat
drifted with the stream, little Gerda sat quite still without
shoes, for they were swimming behind the boat, but she
could not reach them, because the boat went much faster
than they did.
The banks on both sides were beautiful; lovely flowers,
venerable trees, and slopes with sheep and cows, but not a
human being was to be seen.
‘Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay,’ said she;
and then she grew less sad. She rose, and looked for many
hours at the beautiful green banks. Presently she sailed by a
large cherry-orchard, where was a little cottage with
curious red and blue windows; it was thatched, and before
it two wooden soldiers stood sentry, and presented arms
when anyone went past.
Gerda called to them, for she thought they were alive;
but they, of course, did not answer. She came close to
them, for the stream drifted the boat quite near the land.
Gerda called still louder, and an old woman then came
out of the cottage, leaning upon a crooked stick. She had a
large broad-brimmed hat on, painted with the most
splendid flowers.
‘Poor little child!’ said the old woman. ‘How did you
get upon the large rapid river, to be driven about so in the
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
113 of 260
wide world!’ And then the old woman went into the
water, caught hold of the boat with her crooked stick,
drew it to the bank, and lifted little Gerda out.
And Gerda was so glad to be on dry land again; but she
was rather afraid of the strange old woman.
‘But come and tell me who you are, and how you
came here,’ said she.
And Gerda told her all; and the old woman shook her
head and said, ‘A-hem! a-hem!’ and when Gerda had told
her everything, and asked her if she had not seen little
Kay, the woman answered that he had not passed there,
but he no doubt would come; and she told her not to be
cast down, but taste her cherries, and look at her flowers,
which were finer than any in a picture-book, each of
which could tell a whole story. She then took Gerda by
the hand, led her into the little cottage, and locked the
door.
The windows were very high up; the glass was red,
blue, and green, and the sunlight shone through quite
wondrously in all sorts of colors. On the table stood the
most exquisite cherries, and Gerda ate as many as she
chose, for she had permission to do so. While she was
eating, the old woman combed her hair with a golden
comb, and her hair curled and shone with a lovely golden
Andersen’s Fairy Tales
114 of 260
color around that sweet little face, which was so round
and so like a rose.
‘I have often longed for such a dear little girl,’ said the
old woman. ‘Now you shall see how well we agree
together"; and while she combed little Gerda’s hair, the
child forgot her foster-brother Kay more and more, for
the old woman understood magic; but she was no evil
being, she only practised witchcraft a little for her own
private amusement, and now she wanted very much to
keep little Gerda. She therefore went out in the garden,
stretched out.her crooked stick towards the rose-bushes,
which, beautifully as they were blowing, all sank into the
earth and no one could tell where they had stood. The old
woman feared that if Gerda should see the roses, she
would then think of her own, would remember little Kay,
and run away from her.