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THE RED SHOES

THE RED SHOES

There was once a little girl who was very pretty and delicate, but in summershe was forced to run about with bare feet, she was so poor, and in winterwear very large wooden shoes, which made her little insteps quite red, andthat looked so dangerous!
In the middle of the village lived old Dame Shoemaker; she sat and sewedtogether, as well as she could, a little pair of shoes out of old red stripsof cloth; they were very clumsy, but it was a kind thought. They were meantfor the little girl. The little girl was called Karen.
On the very day her mother was buried, Karen received the red shoes, and worethem for the first time. They were certainly not intended for mourning, butshe had no others, and with stockingless feet she followed the poor strawcoffin in them.
Suddenly a large old carriage drove up, and a large old lady sat in it: shelooked at the little girl, felt compassion for her, and then said to theclergyman:
"Here, give me the little girl. I will adopt her!"
And Karen believed all this happened on account of the red shoes, but the oldlady thought they were horrible, and they were burnt. But Karen herself wascleanly and nicely dressed; she must learn to read and sew; and people saidshe was a nice little thing, but the looking-glass said: "Thou art more thannice, thou art beautiful!"
Now the queen once travelled through the land, and she had her little daughterwith her. And this little daughter was a princess, and people streamed to thecastle, and Karen was there also, and the little princess stood in her finewhite dress, in a window, and let herself be stared at; she had neither atrain nor a golden crown, but splendid red morocco shoes. They were certainlyfar handsomer than those Dame Shoemaker had made for little Karen. Nothing inthe world can be compared with red shoes.
Now Karen was old enough to be confirmed; she had new clothes and was to havenew shoes also. The rich shoemaker in the city took the measure of her littlefoot. This took place at his house, in his room; where stood largeglass-cases, filled with elegant shoes and brilliant boots. All this lookedcharming, but the old lady could not see well, and so had no pleasure in them.In the midst of the shoes stood a pair of red ones, just like those theprincess had worn. How beautiful they were! The shoemaker said also they hadbeen made for the child of a count, but had not fitted.
"That must be patent leather!" said the old lady. "They shine so!"
"Yes, they shine!" said Karen, and they fitted, and were bought, but the oldlady knew nothing about their being red, else she would never have allowedKaren to have gone in red shoes to be confirmed. Yet such was the case.
Everybody looked at her feet; and when she stepped through the chancel door onthe church pavement, it seemed to her as if the old figures on the tombs,those portraits of old preachers and preachers' wives, with stiff ruffs, andlong black dresses, fixed their eyes on her red shoes. And she thought only ofthem as the clergyman laid his hand upon her head, and spoke of the holybaptism, of the covenant with God, and how she should be now a maturedChristian; and the organ pealed so solemnly; the sweet children's voices sang,and the old music-directors sang, but Karen only thought of her red shoes.
In the afternoon, the old lady heard from everyone that the shoes had beenred, and she said that it was very wrong of Karen, that it was not at allbecoming, and that in future Karen should only go in black shoes to church,even when she should be older.
The next Sunday there was the sacrament, and Karen looked at the black shoes,looked at the red ones--looked at them again, and put on the red shoes.
The sun shone gloriously; Karen and the old lady walked along the path throughthe corn; it was rather dusty there.
At the church door stood an old soldier with a crutch, and with a wonderfullylong beard, which was more red than white, and he bowed to the ground, andasked the old lady whether he might dust her shoes. And Karen stretched outher little foot.
"See, what beautiful dancing shoes!" said the soldier. "Sit firm when youdance"; and he put his hand out towards the soles.
And the old lady gave the old soldier alms, and went into the church withKaren.
And all the people in the church looked at Karen's red shoes, and all thepictures, and as Karen knelt before the altar, and raised the cup to herlips, she only thought of the red shoes, and they seemed to swim in it; andshe forgot to sing her psalm, and she forgot to pray, "Our Father in Heaven!"
Now all the people went out of church, and the old lady got into her carriage.Karen raised her foot to get in after her, when the old soldier said,
"Look, what beautiful dancing shoes!"
And Karen could not help dancing a step or two, and when she began her feetcontinued to dance; it was just as though the shoes had power over them. Shedanced round the church corner, she could not leave off; the coachman wasobliged to run after and catch hold of her, and he lifted her in the carriage,but her feet continued to dance so that she trod on the old lady dreadfully.At length she took the shoes off, and then her legs had peace.
The shoes were placed in a closet at home, but Karen could not avoid lookingat them.
Now the old lady was sick, and it was said she could not recover. She must benursed and waited upon, and there was no one whose duty it was so much asKaren's. But there was a great ball in the city, to which Karen was invited.She looked at the old lady, who could not recover, she looked at the redshoes, and she thought there could be no sin in it; she put on the red shoes,she might do that also, she thought. But then she went to the ball and beganto dance.
When she wanted to dance to the right, the shoes would dance to the left, andwhen she wanted to dance up the room, the shoes danced back again, down thesteps, into the street, and out of the city gate. She danced, and was forcedto dance straight out into the gloomy wood.
Then it was suddenly light up among the trees, and she fancied it must be themoon, for there was a face; but it was the old soldier with the red beard; hesat there, nodded his head, and said, "Look, what beautiful dancing shoes!"
Then she was terrified, and wanted to fling off the red shoes, but they clungfast; and she pulled down her stockings, but the shoes seemed to have grown toher feet. And she danced, and must dance, over fields and meadows, in rain andsunshine, by night and day; but at night it was the most fearful.
She danced over the churchyard, but the dead did not dance--they hadsomething better to do than to dance. She wished to seat herself on a poorman's grave, where the bitter tansy grew; but for her there was neither peacenor rest; and when she danced towards the open church door, she saw an angelstanding there. He wore long, white garments; he had wings which reached fromhis shoulders to the earth; his countenance was severe and grave; and in hishand he held a sword, broad and glittering.
"Dance shalt thou!" said he. "Dance in thy red shoes till thou art pale andcold! Till thy skin shrivels up and thou art a skeleton! Dance shalt thou fromdoor to door, and where proud, vain children dwell, thou shalt knock, thatthey may hear thee and tremble! Dance shalt thou--!"
"Mercy!" cried Karen. But she did not hear the angel's reply, for the shoescarried her through the gate into the fields, across roads and bridges, andshe must keep ever dancing.
One morning she danced past a door which she well knew. Within sounded apsalm; a coffin, decked with flowers, was borne forth. Then she knew that theold lady was dead, and felt that she was abandoned by all, and condemned bythe angel of God.
She danced, and she was forced to dance through the gloomy night. The shoescarried her over stack and stone; she was torn till she bled; she danced overthe heath till she came to a little house. Here, she knew, dwelt theexecutioner; and she tapped with her fingers at the window, and said, "Comeout! Come out! I cannot come in, for I am forced to dance!"
And the executioner said, "Thou dost not know who I am, I fancy? I strike badpeople's heads off; and I hear that my axe rings!"
"Don't strike my head off!" said Karen. "Then I can't repent of my sins! Butstrike off my feet in the red shoes!"
And then she confessed her entire sin, and the executioner struck off her feetwith the red shoes, but the shoes danced away with the little feet across thefield into the deep wood.
And he carved out little wooden feet for her, and crutches, taught her thepsalm criminals always sing; and she kissed the hand which had wielded theaxe, and went over the heath.
"Now I have suffered enough for the red shoes!" said she. "Now I will go intothe church that people may see me!" And she hastened towards the church door:but when she was near it, the red shoes danced before her, and she wasterrified, and turned round. The whole week she was unhappy, and wept manybitter tears; but when Sunday returned, she said, "Well, now I have sufferedand struggled enough! I really believe I am as good as many a one who sits inthe church, and holds her head so high!"
And away she went boldly; but she had not got farther than the churchyard gatebefore she saw the red shoes dancing before her; and she was frightened, andturned back, and repented of her sin from her heart.
And she went to the parsonage, and begged that they would take her intoservice; she would be very industrious, she said, and would do everything shecould; she did not care about the wages, only she wished to have a home, andbe with good people. And the clergyman's wife was sorry for her and took herinto service; and she was industrious and thoughtful. She sat still andlistened when the clergyman read the Bible in the evenings. All the childrenthought a great deal of her; but when they spoke of dress, and grandeur, andbeauty, she shook her head.
The following Sunday, when the family was going to church, they asked herwhether she would not go with them; but she glanced sorrowfully, with tears inher eyes, at her crutches. The family went to hear the word of God; but shewent alone into her little chamber; there was only room for a bed and chair tostand in it; and here she sat down with her Prayer-Book; and whilst she readwith a pious mind, the wind bore the strains of the organ towards her, and sheraised her tearful countenance, and said, "O God, help me!"
And the sun shone so clearly, and straight before her stood the angel of Godin white garments, the same she had seen that night at the church door; but heno longer carried the sharp sword, but in its stead a splendid green spray,full of roses. And he touched the ceiling with the spray, and the ceiling roseso high, and where he had touched it there gleamed a golden star. And hetouched the walls, and they widened out, and she saw the organ which wasplaying; she saw the old pictures of the preachers and the preachers' wives.The congregation sat in cushioned seats, and sang out of their Prayer-Books.For the church itself had come to the poor girl in her narrow chamber, or elseshe had come into the church. She sat in the pew with the clergyman's family,and when they had ended the psalm and looked up, they nodded and said, "It isright that thou art come!"
"It was through mercy!" she said.
And the organ pealed, and the children's voices in the choir sounded so sweetand soft! The clear sunshine streamed so warmly through the window into thepew where Karen sat! Her heart was so full of sunshine, peace, and joy, thatit broke. Her soul flew on the sunshine to God, and there no one asked afterthe RED SHOES.

THE NAUGHTY BOY

THE NAUGHTY BOY

Along time ago, there lived an old poet, a thoroughly kind old poet. As he wassitting one evening in his room, a dreadful storm arose without, and the rainstreamed down from heaven; but the old poet sat warm and comfortable in hischimney-corner, where the fire blazed and the roasting apple hissed.
"Those who have not a roof over their heads will be wetted to the skin," saidthe good old poet.
"Oh let me in! Let me in! I am cold, and I'm so wet!" exclaimed suddenly achild that stood crying at the door and knocking for admittance, while therain poured down, and the wind made all the windows rattle.
"Poor thing!" said the old poet, as he went to open the door. There stood alittle boy, quite naked, and the water ran down from his long golden hair; hetrembled with cold, and had he not come into a warm room he would mostcertainly have perished in the frightful tempest.
"Poor child!" said the old poet, as he took the boy by the hand. "Come in,come in, and I will soon restore thee! Thou shalt have wine and roastedapples, for thou art verily a charming child!" And the boy was so really. Hiseyes were like two bright stars; and although the water trickled down hishair, it waved in beautiful curls. He looked exactly like a little angel, buthe was so pale, and his whole body trembled with cold. He had a nice littlebow in his hand, but it was quite spoiled by the rain, and the tints of hismany-colored arrows ran one into the other.
The old poet seated himself beside his hearth, and took the little fellow onhis lap; he squeezed the water out of his dripping hair, warmed his handsbetween his own, and boiled for him some sweet wine. Then the boy recovered,his cheeks again grew rosy, he jumped down from the lap where he was sitting,and danced round the kind old poet.
"You are a merry fellow," said the old man. "What's your name?"
"My name is Cupid," answered the boy. "Don't you know me? There lies my bow;it shoots well, I can assure you! Look, the weather is now clearing up, andthe moon is shining clear again through the window."
"Why, your bow is quite spoiled," said the old poet.
"That were sad indeed," said the boy, and he took the bow in his hand andexamined it on every side. "Oh, it is dry again, and is not hurt at all; thestring is quite tight. I will try it directly." And he bent his bow, took aim,and shot an arrow at the old poet, right into his heart. "You see now that mybow was not spoiled," said he laughing; and away he ran.
The naughty boy, to shoot the old poet in that way; he who had taken him intohis warm room, who had treated him so kindly, and who had given him warm wineand the very best apples!
The poor poet lay on the earth and wept, for the arrow had really flown intohis heart.
"Fie!" said he. "How naughty a boy Cupid is! I will tell all children abouthim, that they may take care and not play with him, for he will only causethem sorrow and many a heartache."
And all good children to whom he related this story, took great heed of thisnaughty Cupid; but he made fools of them still, for he is astonishinglycunning. When the university students come from the lectures, he runs besidethem in a black coat, and with a book under his arm. It is quite impossiblefor them to know him, and they walk along with him arm in arm, as if he, too,were a student like themselves; and then, unperceived, he thrusts an arrow totheir bosom. When the young maidens come from being examined by the clergyman,or go to church to be confirmed, there he is again close behind them. Yes, heis forever following people. At the play, he sits in the great chandelier andburns in bright flames, so that people think it is really a flame, but theysoon discover it is something else. He roves about in the garden of the palaceand upon the ramparts: yes, once he even shot your father and mother right inthe heart. Ask them only and you will hear what they'll tell you. Oh, he is anaughty boy, that Cupid; you must never have anything to do with him. He isforever running after everybody. Only think, he shot an arrow once at your oldgrandmother! But that is a long time ago, and it is all past now; however, athing of that sort she never forgets. Fie, naughty Cupid! But now you knowhim, and you know, too, how ill-behaved he is!

THE DREAM OF LITTLE TUK

THE DREAM OF LITTLE TUK

Ah! yes, that was little Tuk: in reality his name was not Tuk, but that waswhat he called himself before he could speak plain: he meant it for Charles,and it is all well enough if one does but know it. He had now to take care ofhis little sister Augusta, who was much younger than himself, and he was,besides, to learn his lesson at the same time; but these two things would notdo together at all. There sat the poor little fellow, with his sister on hislap, and he sang to her all the songs he knew; and he glanced the while fromtime to time into the geography-book that lay open before him. By the nextmorning he was to have learnt all the towns in Zealand by heart, and to knowabout them all that is possible to be known.
His mother now came home, for she had been out, and took little Augusta on herarm. Tuk ran quickly to the window, and read so eagerly that he pretty nearlyread his eyes out; for it got darker and darker, but his mother had no moneyto buy a candle.
"There goes the old washerwoman over the way," said his mother, as she lookedout of the window. "The poor woman can hardly drag herself along, and she mustnow drag the pail home from the fountain. Be a good boy, Tukey, and run acrossand help the old woman, won't you?"
So Tuk ran over quickly and helped her; but when he came back again into theroom it was quite dark, and as to a light, there was no thought of such athing. He was now to go to bed; that was an old turn-up bedstead; in it he layand thought about his geography lesson, and of Zealand, and of all that hismaster had told him. He ought, to be sure, to have read over his lesson again,but that, you know, he could not do. He therefore put his geography-book underhis pillow, because he had heard that was a very good thing to do when onewants to learn one's lesson; but one cannot, however, rely upon it entirely.Well, there he lay, and thought and thought, and all at once it was just as ifsomeone kissed his eyes and mouth: he slept, and yet he did not sleep; it wasas though the old washerwoman gazed on him with her mild eyes and said, "Itwere a great sin if you were not to know your lesson tomorrow morning. Youhave aided me, I therefore will now help you; and the loving God will do so atall times." And all of a sudden the book under Tuk's pillow began scraping andscratching.
"Kickery-ki! kluk! kluk! kluk!"--that was an old hen who came creeping along,and she was from Kjoge. "I am a Kjoger hen,"* said she, and then she relatedhow many inhabitants there were there, and about the battle that had takenplace, and which, after all, was hardly worth talking about.
* Kjoge, a town in the bay of Kjoge. "To see the Kjoge hens," is anexpression similar to "showing a child London," which is said to be done bytaking his head in both bands, and so lifting him off the ground. At theinvasion of the English in 1807, an encounter of a no very glorious naturetook place between the British troops and the undisciplined Danish militia.
"Kribledy, krabledy--plump!" down fell somebody: it was a wooden bird, thepopinjay used at the shooting-matches at Prastoe. Now he said that there werejust as many inhabitants as he had nails in his body; and he was very proud."Thorwaldsen lived almost next door to me.* Plump! Here I lie capitally."
* Prastoe, a still smaller town than Kjoge. Some hundred paces from it liesthe manor-house Ny Soe, where Thorwaldsen, the famed sculptor, generallysojourned during his stay in Denmark, and where he called many of his immortalworks into existence.
But little Tuk was no longer lying down: all at once he was on horseback. Onhe went at full gallop, still galloping on and on. A knight with a gleamingplume, and most magnificently dressed, held him before him on the horse, andthus they rode through the wood to the old town of Bordingborg, and that was alarge and very lively town. High towers rose from the castle of the king, andthe brightness of many candles streamed from all the windows; within was danceand song, and King Waldemar and the young, richly-attired maids of honordanced together. The morn now came; and as soon as the sun appeared, the wholetown and the king's palace crumbled together, and one tower after the other;and at last only a single one remained standing where the castle had beenbefore,* and the town was so small and poor, and the school boys came alongwith their books under their arms, and said, "2000 inhabitants!" but that wasnot true, for there were not so many.
*Bordingborg, in the reign of King Waldemar, a considerable place, now anunimportant little town. One solitary tower only, and some remains of a wall,show where the castle once stood.
And little Tukey lay in his bed: it seemed to him as if he dreamed, and yet asif he were not dreaming; however, somebody was close beside him.
"Little Tukey! Little Tukey!" cried someone near. It was a seaman, quite alittle personage, so little as if he were a midshipman; but a midshipman itwas not.
"Many remembrances from Corsor.* That is a town that is just rising intoimportance; a lively town that has steam-boats and stagecoaches: formerlypeople called it ugly, but that is no longer true. I lie on the sea," saidCorsor; "I have high roads and gardens, and I have given birth to a poet whowas witty and amusing, which all poets are not. I once intended to equip aship that was to sail all round the earth; but I did not do it, although Icould have done so: and then, too, I smell so deliciously, for close beforethe gate bloom the most beautiful roses."
*Corsor, on the Great Belt, called, formerly, before the introduction ofsteam-vessels, when travellers were often obliged to wait a long time for afavorable wind, "the most tiresome of towns." The poet Baggesen was born here.
Little Tuk looked, and all was red and green before his eyes; but as soon asthe confusion of colors was somewhat over, all of a sudden there appeared awooded slope close to the bay, and high up above stood a magnificent oldchurch, with two high pointed towers. From out the hill-side spouted fountainsin thick streams of water, so that there was a continual splashing; and closebeside them sat an old king with a golden crown upon his white head: that wasKing Hroar, near the fountains, close to the town of Roeskilde, as it is nowcalled. And up the slope into the old church went all the kings and queens ofDenmark, hand in hand, all with their golden crowns; and the organ played andthe fountains rustled. Little Tuk saw all, heard all. "Do not forget thediet," said King Hroar.*
*Roeskilde, once the capital of Denmark. The town takes its name fromKing Hroar, and the many fountains in the neighborhood. In the beautifulcathedral the greater number of the kings and queens of Denmark are interred.In Roeskilde, too, the members of the Danish Diet assemble.
Again all suddenly disappeared. Yes, and whither? It seemed to him just as ifone turned over a leaf in a book. And now stood there an old peasant-woman,who came from Soroe,* where grass grows in the market-place. She had an oldgrey linen apron hanging over her head and back: it was so wet, it certainlymust have been raining. "Yes, that it has," said she; and she now related manypretty things out of Holberg's comedies, and about Waldemar and Absalon; butall at once she cowered together, and her head began shaking backwards andforwards, and she looked as she were going to make a spring. "Croak! croak!"said she. "It is wet, it is wet; there is such a pleasant deathlike stillnessin Sorbe!" She was now suddenly a frog, "Croak"; and now she was an old woman."One must dress according to the weather," said she. "It is wet; it is wet. Mytown is just like a bottle; and one gets in by the neck, and by the neck onemust get out again! In former times I had the finest fish, and now I havefresh rosy-cheeked boys at the bottom of the bottle, who learn wisdom, Hebrew,Greek--Croak!"
* Sorbe, a very quiet little town, beautifully situated, surrounded by woodsand lakes. Holberg, Denmark's Moliere, founded here an academy for the sons ofthe nobles. The poets Hauch and Ingemann were appointed professors here. Thelatter lives there still.
When she spoke it sounded just like the noise of frogs, or as if one walkedwith great boots over a moor; always the same tone, so uniform and so tiringthat little Tuk fell into a good sound sleep, which, by the bye, could not dohim any harm.
But even in this sleep there came a dream, or whatever else it was: his littlesister Augusta, she with the blue eyes and the fair curling hair, was suddenlya tall, beautiful girl, and without having wings was yet able to fly; and shenow flew over Zealand--over the green woods and the blue lakes.
"Do you hear the cock crow, Tukey? Cock-a-doodle-doo! The cocks are flying upfrom Kjoge! You will have a farm-yard, so large, oh! so very large! You willsuffer neither hunger nor thirst! You will get on in the world! You will be arich and happy man! Your house will exalt itself like King Waldemar's tower,and will be richly decorated with marble statues, like that at Prastoe. Youunderstand what I mean. Your name shall circulate with renown all round theearth, like unto the ship that was to have sailed from Corsor; and inRoeskilde--"
"Do not forget the diet!" said King Hroar.
"Then you will speak well and wisely, little Tukey; and when at last you sinkinto your grave, you shall sleep as quietly--"
"As if I lay in Soroe," said Tuk, awaking. It was bright day, and he was nowquite unable to call to mind his dream; that, however, was not at allnecessary, for one may not know what the future will bring.
And out of bed he jumped, and read in his book, and now all at once he knewhis whole lesson. And the old washerwoman popped her head in at the door,nodded to him friendly, and said, "Thanks, many thanks, my good child, foryour help! May the good ever-loving God fulfil your loveliest dream!"
Little Tukey did not at all know what he had dreamed, but the loving God knewit.

THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL

THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL

Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening--the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along thestreet a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left homeshe had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were verylarge slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; andthe poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street,because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.
One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by anurchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradlewhen he some day or other should have children himself. So the little maidenwalked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold.She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle ofthem in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; noone had given her a single farthing.
She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very picture of sorrow, thepoor little thing!
The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curlsaround her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought. From allthe windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roastgoose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she thought.
In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the other,she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawnclose up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go home she did notventure, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a farthing ofmoney: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at home it was coldtoo, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind whistled,even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.
Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford her aworld of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, drawit against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. "Rischt!"how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle, asshe held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed really to thelittle maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, withburnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire burned with suchblessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little girl had alreadystretched out her feet to warm them too; but--the small flame went out, thestove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.
She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the lightfell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that shecould see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; uponit was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famouslywith its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still more capital tobehold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floorwith knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl;when--the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was leftbehind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the mostmagnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than theone which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house.
Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-coloredpictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her.The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when--the match wentout. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them nowas stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.
"Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; for her old grandmother, theonly person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, thatwhen a star falls, a soul ascends to God.
She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the lustrethere stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with suchan expression of love.
"Grandmother!" cried the little one. "Oh, take me with you! You go away whenthe match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the delicious roastgoose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the wholebundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure ofkeeping her grandmother near her. And the matches gave such a brilliant lightthat it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother beenso beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, and bothflew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above wasneither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety--they were with God.
But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosycheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall--frozen to death onthe last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the child there with hermatches, of which one bundle had been burnt. "She wanted to warm herself,"people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things shehad seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmothershe had entered on the joys of a new year.

THE SHADOW

THE SHADOW

It is in the hot lands that the sun burns, sure enough! there the peoplebecome quite a mahogany brown, ay, and in the HOTTEST lands they are burnt toNegroes. But now it was only to the HOT lands that a learned man had come fromthe cold; there he thought that he could run about just as when at home, buthe soon found out his mistake.
He, and all sensible folks, were obliged to stay within doors--thewindow-shutters and doors were closed the whole day; it looked as if the wholehouse slept, or there was no one at home.
The narrow street with the high houses, was built so that the sunshine mustfall there from morning till evening--it was really not to be borne.
The learned man from the cold lands--he was a young man, and seemed to be aclever man--sat in a glowing oven; it took effect on him, he became quitemeagre--even his shadow shrunk in, for the sun had also an effect on it. Itwas first towards evening when the sun was down, that they began to freshen upagain.
In the warm lands every window has a balcony, and the people came out on allthe balconies in the street--for one must have air, even if one be accustomedto be mahogany!* It was lively both up and down the street. Tailors, andshoemakers, and all the folks, moved out into the street--chairs and tableswere brought forth--and candles burnt--yes, above a thousand lights wereburning--and the one talked and the other sung; and people walked andchurch-bells rang, and asses went along with a dingle-dingle-dong! for theytoo had bells on. The street boys were screaming and hooting, and shouting andshooting, with devils and detonating balls--and there came corpse bearers andhood wearers--for there were funerals with psalm and hymn--and then the din ofcarriages driving and company arriving: yes, it was, in truth, lively enoughdown in the street. Only in that single house, which stood opposite that inwhich the learned foreigner lived, it was quite still; and yet some one livedthere, for there stood flowers in the balcony--they grew so well in the sun'sheat! and that they could not do unless they were watered--and some one mustwater them--there must be somebody there. The door opposite was also openedlate in the evening, but it was dark within, at least in the front room;further in there was heard the sound of music. The learned foreigner thoughtit quite marvellous, but now--it might be that he only imagined it--for hefound everything marvellous out there, in the warm lands, if there had onlybeen no sun. The stranger's landlord said that he didn't know who had takenthe house opposite, one saw no person about, and as to the music, it appearedto him to be extremely tiresome. "It is as if some one sat there, andpractised a piece that he could not master--always the same piece. 'I shallmaster it!' says he; but yet he cannot master it, however long he plays."
* The word mahogany can be understood, in Danish, as having two meanings.In general, it means the reddish-brown wood itself; but in jest, it signifies"excessively fine," which arose from an anecdote of Nyboder, in Copenhagen,(the seamen's quarter.) A sailor's wife, who was always proud and fine, in herway, came to her neighbor, and complained that she had got a splinter in herfinger. "What of?" asked the neighbor's wife. "It is a mahogany splinter,"said the other. "Mahogany! It cannot be less with you!" exclaimed thewoman--and thence the proverb, "It is so mahogany!"--(that is, so excessivelyfine)--is derived.
One night the stranger awoke--he slept with the doors of the balcony open--thecurtain before it was raised by the wind, and he thought that a strange lustrecame from the opposite neighbor's house; all the flowers shone like flames, inthe most beautiful colors, and in the midst of the flowers stood a slender,graceful maiden--it was as if she also shone; the light really hurt his eyes.He now opened them quite wide--yes, he was quite awake; with one spring he wason the floor; he crept gently behind the curtain, but the maiden was gone; theflowers shone no longer, but there they stood, fresh and blooming as ever; thedoor was ajar, and, far within, the music sounded so soft and delightful, onecould really melt away in sweet thoughts from it. Yet it was like a piece ofenchantment. And who lived there? Where was the actual entrance? The whole ofthe ground-floor was a row of shops, and there people could not always berunning through.
One evening the stranger sat out on the balcony. The light burnt in the roombehind him; and thus it was quite natural that his shadow should fall on hisopposite neighbor's wall. Yes! there it sat, directly opposite, between theflowers on the balcony; and when the stranger moved, the shadow also moved:for that it always does.
"I think my shadow is the only living thing one sees over there," said thelearned man. "See, how nicely it sits between the flowers. The door standshalf-open: now the shadow should be cunning, and go into the room, look about,and then come and tell me what it had seen. Come, now! Be useful, and do me aservice," said he, in jest. "Have the kindness to step in. Now! Art thougoing?" and then he nodded to the shadow, and the shadow nodded again. "Wellthen, go! But don't stay away."
The stranger rose, and his shadow on the opposite neighbor's balcony rosealso; the stranger turned round and the shadow also turned round. Yes! ifanyone had paid particular attention to it, they would have seen, quitedistinctly, that the shadow went in through the half-open balcony-door oftheir opposite neighbor, just as the stranger went into his own room, and letthe long curtain fall down after him.
Next morning, the learned man went out to drink coffee and read thenewspapers.
"What is that?" said he, as he came out into the sunshine. "I have no shadow!So then, it has actually gone last night, and not come again. It is reallytiresome!"
This annoyed him: not so much because the shadow was gone, but because he knewthere was a story about a man without a shadow.* It was known to everybody athome, in the cold lands; and if the learned man now came there and told hisstory, they would say that he was imitating it, and that he had no need to do.He would, therefore, not talk about it at all; and that was wisely thought.
*Peter Schlemihl, the shadowless man.
In the evening he went out again on the balcony. He had placed the lightdirectly behind him, for he knew that the shadow would always have its masterfor a screen, but he could not entice it. He made himself little; he madehimself great: but no shadow came again. He said, "Hem! hem!" but it was of nouse.
It was vexatious; but in the warm lands everything grows so quickly; and afterthe lapse of eight days he observed, to his great joy, that a new shadow camein the sunshine. In the course of three weeks he had a very fair shadow,which, when he set out for his home in the northern lands, grew more and morein the journey, so that at last it was so long and so large, that it was morethan sufficient.
The learned man then came home, and he wrote books about what was true in theworld, and about what was good and what was beautiful; and there passed daysand years--yes! many years passed away.
One evening, as he was sitting in his room, there was a gentle knocking at thedoor.
"Come in!" said he; but no one came in; so he opened the door, and there stoodbefore him such an extremely lean man, that he felt quite strange. As to therest, the man was very finely dressed--he must be a gentleman.
"Whom have I the honor of speaking?" asked the learned man.
"Yes! I thought as much," said the fine man. "I thought you would not knowme. I have got so much body. I have even got flesh and clothes. You certainlynever thought of seeing me so well off. Do you not know your old shadow? Youcertainly thought I should never more return. Things have gone on well with mesince I was last with you. I have, in all respects, become very well off.Shall I purchase my freedom from service? If so, I can do it"; and then herattled a whole bunch of valuable seals that hung to his watch, and he stuckhis hand in the thick gold chain he wore around his neck--nay! how all hisfingers glittered with diamond rings; and then all were pure gems.
"Nay; I cannot recover from my surprise!" said the learned man. "What is themeaning of all this?"
"Something common, is it not," said the shadow. "But you yourself do notbelong to the common order; and I, as you know well, have from a childfollowed in your footsteps. As soon as you found I was capable to go out alonein the world, I went my own way. I am in the most brilliant circumstances, butthere came a sort of desire over me to see you once more before you die; youwill die, I suppose? I also wished to see this land again--for you know wealways love our native land. I know you have got another shadow again; have Ianything to pay to it or you? If so, you will oblige me by saying what it is."
"Nay, is it really thou?" said the learned man. "It is most remarkable: Inever imagined that one's old shadow could come again as a man."
"Tell me what I have to pay," said the shadow; "for I don't like to be in anysort of debt."
"How canst thou talk so?" said the learned man. "What debt is there to talkabout? Make thyself as free as anyone else. I am extremely glad to hear of thygood fortune: sit down, old friend, and tell me a little how it has gone withthee, and what thou hast seen at our opposite neighbor's there--in the warmlands."
"Yes, I will tell you all about it," said the shadow, and sat down: "but thenyou must also promise me, that, wherever you may meet me, you will never sayto anyone here in the town that I have been your shadow. I intend to getbetrothed, for I can provide for more than one family."
"Be quite at thy ease about that," said the learned man; "I shall not say toanyone who thou actually art: here is my hand--I promise it, and a man's bondis his word."
"A word is a shadow," said the shadow, "and as such it must speak."
It was really quite astonishing how much of a man it was. It was dressedentirely in black, and of the very finest cloth; it had patent leather boots,and a hat that could be folded together, so that it was bare crown and brim;not to speak of what we already know it had--seals, gold neck-chain, anddiamond rings; yes, the shadow was well-dressed, and it was just that whichmade it quite a man.
"Now I shall tell you my adventures," said the shadow; and then he sat, withthe polished boots, as heavily as he could, on the arm of the learned man'snew shadow, which lay like a poodle-dog at his feet. Now this was perhaps fromarrogance; and the shadow on the ground kept itself so still and quiet, thatit might hear all that passed: it wished to know how it could get free, andwork its way up, so as to become its own master.
"Do you know who lived in our opposite neighbor's house?" said the shadow. "Itwas the most charming of all beings, it was Poesy! I was there for threeweeks, and that has as much effect as if one had lived three thousand years,and read all that was composed and written; that is what I say, and it isright. I have seen everything and I know everything!"
"Poesy!" cried the learned man. "Yes, yes, she often dwells a recluse inlarge cities! Poesy! Yes, I have seen her--a single short moment, but sleepcame into my eyes! She stood on the balcony and shone as the Aurora Borealisshines. Go on, go on--thou wert on the balcony, and went through the doorway,and then--"
"Then I was in the antechamber," said the shadow. "You always sat and lookedover to the antechamber. There was no light; there was a sort of twilight, butthe one door stood open directly opposite the other through a long row ofrooms and saloons, and there it was lighted up. I should have been completelykilled if I had gone over to the maiden; but I was circumspect, I took time tothink, and that one must always do."
"And what didst thou then see?" asked the learned man.
"I saw everything, and I shall tell all to you: but--it is no pride on mypart--as a free man, and with the knowledge I have, not to speak of myposition in life, my excellent circumstances--I certainly wish that you wouldsay YOU* to me!"
* It is the custom in Denmark for intimate acquaintances to use thesecond person singular, "Du," (thou) when speaking to each other. When afriendship is formed between men, they generally affirm it, when occasionoffers, either in public or private, by drinking to each other and exclaiming,"thy health," at the same time striking their glasses together. This is calleddrinking "Duus": they are then, "Duus Brodre," (thou brothers) and everafterwards use the pronoun "thou," to each other, it being regarded as morefamiliar than "De," (you). Father and mother, sister and brother say thou toone another--without regard to age or rank. Master and mistress say thou totheir servants the superior to the inferior. But servants and inferiors do notuse the same term to their masters, or superiors--nor is it ever used whenspeaking to a stranger, or anyone with whom they are but slightly acquainted--they then say as in English--you.
"I beg your pardon," said the learned man; "it is an old habit with me. YOUare perfectly right, and I shall remember it; but now you must tell me all YOUsaw!"
"Everything!" said the shadow. "For I saw everything, and I know everything!"
"How did it look in the furthest saloon?" asked the learned man. "Was it thereas in the fresh woods? Was it there as in a holychurch? Were the saloons like the starlit firmament when we stand on the highmountains?"
"Everything was there!" said the shadow. "I did not go quite in, I remained inthe foremost room, in the twilight, but I stood there quite well; I saweverything, and I know everything! I have been in the antechamber at the courtof Poesy."
"But WHAT DID you see? Did all the gods of the olden times pass through thelarge saloons? Did the old heroes combat there? Did sweet children play there,and relate their dreams?"
"I tell you I was there, and you can conceive that I saw everything there wasto be seen. Had you come over there, you would not have been a man; but Ibecame so! And besides, I learned to know my inward nature, my innatequalities, the relationship I had with Poesy. At the time I was with you, Ithought not of that, but always--you know it well--when the sun rose, and whenthe sun went down, I became so strangely great; in the moonlight I was verynear being more distinct than yourself; at that time I did not understand mynature; it was revealed to me in the antechamber! I became a man! I came outmatured; but you were no longer in the warm lands; as a man I was ashamed togo as I did. I was in want of boots, of clothes, of the whole human varnishthat makes a man perceptible. I took my way--I tell it to you, but you willnot put it in any book--I took my way to the cake woman--I hid myself behindher; the woman didn't think how much she concealed. I went out first in theevening; I ran about the streets in the moonlight; I made myself long up thewalls--it tickles the back so delightfully! I ran up, and ran down, peepedinto the highest windows, into the saloons, and on the roofs, I peeped inwhere no one could peep, and I saw what no one else saw, what no one elseshould see! This is, in fact, a base world! I would not be a man if it werenot now once accepted and regarded as something to be so! I saw the mostunimaginable things with the women, with the men, with parents, and with thesweet, matchless children; I saw," said the shadow, "what no human being mustknow, but what they would all so willingly know--what is bad in theirneighbor. Had I written a newspaper, it would have been read! But I wrotedirect to the persons themselves, and there was consternation in all thetowns where I came. They were so afraid of me, and yet they were soexcessively fond of me. The professors made a professor of me; the tailorsgave me new clothes--I am well furnished; the master of the mint struck newcoin for me, and the women said I was so handsome! And so I became the man Iam. And I now bid you farewell. Here is my card--I live on the sunny side ofthe street, and am always at home in rainy weather!" And so away went theshadow. "That was most extraordinary!" said the learned man. Years and dayspassed away, then the shadow came again. "How goes it?" said the shadow.
"Alas!" said the learned man. "I write about the true, and the good, and thebeautiful, but no one cares to hear such things; I am quite desperate, for Itake it so much to heart!"
"But I don't!" said the shadow. "I become fat, and it is that one wants tobecome! You do not understand the world. You will become ill by it. You musttravel! I shall make a tour this summer; will you go with me? I should like tohave a travelling companion! Will you go with me, as shadow? It will be agreat pleasure for me to have you with me; I shall pay the travellingexpenses!"
"Nay, this is too much!" said the learned man.
"It is just as one takes it!" said the shadow. "It will do you much good totravel! Will you be my shadow? You shall have everything free on the journey!"
"Nay, that is too bad!" said the learned man.
"But it is just so with the world!" said the shadow, "and so it will be!" andaway it went again.
The learned man was not at all in the most enviable state; grief and tormentfollowed him, and what he said about the true, and the good, and thebeautiful, was, to most persons, like roses for a cow! He was quite ill atlast.
"You really look like a shadow!" said his friends to him; and the learned mantrembled, for he thought of it.
"You must go to a watering-place!" said the shadow, who came and visited him."There is nothing else for it! I will take you with me for old acquaintance'sake; I will pay the travelling expenses, and you write the descriptions--andif they are a little amusing for me on the way! I will go to awatering-place--my beard does not grow out as it ought--that is also asickness--and one must have a beard! Now you be wise and accept the offer; weshall travel as comrades!"
And so they travelled; the shadow was master, and the master was the shadow;they drove with each other, they rode and walked together, side by side,before and behind, just as the sun was; the shadow always took care to keepitself in the master's place. Now the learned man didn't think much aboutthat; he was a very kind-hearted man, and particularly mild and friendly, andso he said one day to the shadow: "As we have now become companions, and inthis way have grown up together from childhood, shall we not drink 'thou'together, it is more familiar?"
"You are right," said the shadow, who was now the proper master. "It is saidin a very straight-forward and well-meant manner. You, as a learned man,certainly know how strange nature is. Some persons cannot bear to touch greypaper, or they become ill; others shiver in every limb if one rub a pane ofglass with a nail: I have just such a feeling on hearing you say thou to me; Ifeel myself as if pressed to the earth in my first situation with you. You seethat it is a feeling; that it is not pride: I cannot allow you to say THOU tome, but I will willingly say THOU to you, so it is half done!"
So the shadow said THOU to its former master.
"This is rather too bad," thought he, "that I must say YOU and he say THOU,"but he was now obliged to put up with it.
So they came to a watering-place where there were many strangers, and amongstthem was a princess, who was troubled with seeing too well; and that was soalarming!
She directly observed that the stranger who had just come was quite adifferent sort of person to all the others; "He has come here in order to gethis beard to grow, they say, but I see the real cause, he cannot cast ashadow."
She had become inquisitive; and so she entered into conversation directly withthe strange gentleman, on their promenades. As the daughter of a king, sheneeded not to stand upon trifles, so she said, "Your complaint is, that youcannot cast a shadow?"
"Your Royal Highness must be improving considerably," said the shadow, "I knowyour complaint is, that you see too clearly, but it has decreased, you arecured. I just happen to have a very unusual shadow! Do you not see that personwho always goes with me? Other persons have a common shadow, but I do not likewhat is common to all. We give our servants finer cloth for their livery thanwe ourselves use, and so I had my shadow trimmed up into a man: yes, you see Ihave even given him a shadow. It is somewhat expensive, but I like to havesomething for myself!"
"What!" thought the princess. "Should I really be cured! These baths are thefirst in the world! In our time water has wonderful powers. But I shall notleave the place, for it now begins to be amusing here. I am extremely fond ofthat stranger: would that his beard should not grow, for in that case he willleave us!"
In the evening, the princess and the shadow danced together in the largeball-room. She was light, but he was still lighter; she had never had such apartner in the dance. She told him from what land she came, and he knew thatland; he had been there, but then she was not at home; he had peeped in at thewindow, above and below--he had seen both the one and the other, and so hecould answer the princess, and make insinuations, so that she was quiteastonished; he must be the wisest man in the whole world! She felt suchrespect for what he knew! So that when they again danced together she fell inlove with him; and that the shadow could remark, for she almost pierced himthrough with her eyes. So they danced once more together; and she was about todeclare herself, but she was discreet; she thought of her country and kingdom,and of the many persons she would have to reign over.
"He is a wise man," said she to herself--"It is well; and he dancesdelightfully--that is also good; but has he solid knowledge? That is just asimportant! He must be examined."
So she began, by degrees, to question him about the most difficult things shecould think of, and which she herself could not have answered; so that theshadow made a strange face.
"You cannot answer these questions?" said the princess.
"They belong to my childhood's learning," said the shadow. "I really believemy shadow, by the door there, can answer them!"
"Your shadow!" said the princess. "That would indeed be marvellous!"
"I will not say for a certainty that he can," said the shadow, "but I thinkso; he has now followed me for so many years, and listened to myconversation--I should think it possible. But your royal highness will permitme to observe, that he is so proud of passing himself off for a man, that whenhe is to be in a proper humor--and he must be so to answer well--he must betreated quite like a man."
"Oh! I like that!" said the princess.
So she went to the learned man by the door, and she spoke to him about the sunand the moon, and about persons out of and in the world, and he answered withwisdom and prudence.
"What a man that must be who has so wise a shadow!" thought she. "It will be areal blessing to my people and kingdom if I choose him for my consort--I willdo it!"
They were soon agreed, both the princess and the shadow; but no one was toknow about it before she arrived in her own kingdom.
"No one--not even my shadow!" said the shadow, and he had his own thoughtsabout it!
Now they were in the country where the princess reigned when she was at home.
"Listen, my good friend," said the shadow to the learned man. "I have nowbecome as happy and mighty as anyone can be; I will, therefore, do somethingparticular for thee! Thou shalt always live with me in the palace, drive withme in my royal carriage, and have ten thousand pounds a year; but then thoumust submit to be called SHADOW by all and everyone; thou must not say thatthou hast ever been a man; and once a year, when I sit on the balcony in thesunshine, thou must lie at my feet, as a shadow shall do! I must tell thee: Iam going to marry the king's daughter, and the nuptials are to take place thisevening!"
"Nay, this is going too far!" said the learned man. "I will not have it; Iwill not do it! It is to deceive the whole country and the princess too! Iwill tell everything! That I am a man, and that thou art a shadow--thou artonly dressed up!"
"There is no one who will believe it!" said the shadow. "Be reasonable, or Iwill call the guard!"
"I will go directly to the princess!" said the learned man.
"But I will go first!" said the shadow. "And thou wilt go to prison!" andthat he was obliged to do--for the sentinels obeyed him whom they knew theking's daughter was to marry.
"You tremble!" said the princess, as the shadow came into her chamber. "Hasanything happened? You must not be unwell this evening, now that we are tohave our nuptials celebrated."
"I have lived to see the most cruel thing that anyone can live to see!" saidthe shadow. "Only imagine--yes, it is true, such a poor shadow-skull cannotbear much--only think, my shadow has become mad; he thinks that he is a man,and that I--now only think--that I am his shadow!"
"It is terrible!" said the princess; "but he is confined, is he not?"
"That he is. I am afraid that he will never recover."
"Poor shadow!" said the princess. "He is very unfortunate; it would be a realwork of charity to deliver him from the little life he has, and, when I thinkproperly over the matter, I am of opinion that it will be necessary to do awaywith him in all stillness!"
"It is certainly hard," said the shadow, "for he was a faithful servant!" andthen he gave a sort of sigh.
"You are a noble character!" said the princess.
The whole city was illuminated in the evening, and the cannons went off with abum! bum! and the soldiers presented arms. That was a marriage! The princessand the shadow went out on the balcony to show themselves, and get anotherhurrah!
The learned man heard nothing of all this--for they had deprived him of life.

THE FALSE COLLAR

THE FALSE COLLAR

There was once a fine gentleman, all of whose moveables were a boot-jack and ahair-comb: but he had the finest false collars in the world; and it is aboutone of these collars that we are now to hear a story.
It was so old, that it began to think of marriage; and it happened that itcame to be washed in company with a garter.
"Nay!" said the collar. "I never did see anything so slender and so fine, sosoft and so neat. May I not ask your name?"
"That I shall not tell you!" said the garter.
"Where do you live?" asked the collar.
But the garter was so bashful, so modest, and thought it was a strangequestion to answer.
"You are certainly a girdle," said the collar; "that is to say an insidegirdle. I see well that you are both for use and ornament, my dear younglady."
"I will thank you not to speak to me," said the garter. "I think I have notgiven the least occasion for it."
"Yes! When one is as handsome as you," said the collar, "that is occasionenough."
"Don't come so near me, I beg of you!" said the garter. "You look so much likethose men-folks."
"I am also a fine gentleman," said the collar. "I have a bootjack and ahair-comb."
But that was not true, for it was his master who had them: but he boasted.
"Don't come so near me," said the garter: "I am not accustomed to it."
"Prude!" exclaimed the collar; and then it was taken out of the washing-tub.It was starched, hung over the back of a chair in the sunshine, and was thenlaid on the ironing-blanket; then came the warm box-iron. "Dear lady!" saidthe collar. "Dear widow-lady! I feel quite hot. I am quite changed. I begin tounfold myself. You will burn a hole in me. Oh! I offer you my hand."
"Rag!" said the box-iron; and went proudly over the collar: for she fanciedshe was a steam-engine, that would go on the railroad and draw the waggons."Rag!" said the box-iron.
The collar was a little jagged at the edge, and so came the long scissors tocut off the jagged part. "Oh!" said the collar. "You are certainly the firstopera dancer. How well you can stretch your legs out! It is the most gracefulperformance I have ever seen. No one can imitate you."
"I know it," said the scissors.
"You deserve to be a baroness," said the collar. "All that I have is a finegentleman, a boot-jack, and a hair-comb. If I only had the barony!"
"Do you seek my hand?" said the scissors; for she was angry; and without moreado, she CUT HIM, and then he was condemned.
"I shall now be obliged to ask the hair-comb. It is surprising how well youpreserve your teeth, Miss," said the collar. "Have you never thought of beingbetrothed?"
"Yes, of course! you may be sure of that," said the hair-comb. "I AMbetrothed--to the boot-jack!"
"Betrothed!" exclaimed the collar. Now there was no other to court, and so hedespised it.
A long time passed away, then the collar came into the rag chest at the papermill; there was a large company of rags, the fine by themselves, and thecoarse by themselves, just as it should be. They all had much to say, but thecollar the most; for he was a real boaster.
"I have had such an immense number of sweethearts!" said the collar. "I couldnot be in peace! It is true, I was always a fine starched-up gentleman! I hadboth a boot-jack and a hair-comb, which I never used! You should have seen methen, you should have seen me when I lay down! I shall never forget MY FIRSTLOVE--she was a girdle, so fine, so soft, and so charming, she threw herselfinto a tub of water for my sake! There was also a widow, who became glowinghot, but I left her standing till she got black again; there was also thefirst opera dancer, she gave me that cut which I now go with, she was soferocious! My own hair-comb was in love with me, she lost all her teeth fromthe heart-ache; yes, I have lived to see much of that sort of thing;but I am extremely sorry for the garter--I mean the girdle--that went into thewater-tub. I have much on my conscience, I want to become white paper!"
And it became so, all the rags were turned into white paper; but the collarcame to be just this very piece of white paper we here see, and on which thestory is printed; and that was because it boasted so terribly afterwards ofwhat had never happened to it. It would be well for us to beware, that we maynot act in a similar manner, for we can never know if we may not, in thecourse of time, also come into the rag chest, and be made into white paper,and then have our whole life's history printed on it, even the most secret,and be obliged to run about and tell it ourselves, just like this collar.

THE STORY OF A MOTHER

THE STORY OF A MOTHER

A mother sat there with her little child. She was so downcast, so afraid thatit should die! It was so pale, the small eyes had closed themselves, and itdrew its breath so softly, now and then, with a deep respiration, as if itsighed; and the mother looked still more sorrowfully on the little creature.
Then a knocking was heard at the door, and in came a poor old man wrapped upas in a large horse-cloth, for it warms one, and he needed it, as it was thecold winter season! Everything out-of-doors was covered with ice and snow, andthe wind blew so that it cut the face.
As the old man trembled with cold, and the little child slept a moment, themother went and poured some ale into a pot and set it on the stove, that itmight be warm for him; the old man sat and rocked the cradle, and the mothersat down on a chair close by him, and looked at her little sick child thatdrew its breath so deep, and raised its little hand.
"Do you not think that I shall save him?" said she. "Our Lord will not takehim from me!"
And the old man--it was Death himself--he nodded so strangely, it could justas well signify yes as no. And the mother looked down in her lap, and thetears ran down over her cheeks; her head became so heavy--she had not closedher eyes for three days and nights; and now she slept, but only for a minute,when she started up and trembled with cold.
"What is that?" said she, and looked on all sides; but the old man was gone,and her little child was gone--he had taken it with him; and the old clock inthe corner burred, and burred, the great leaden weight ran down to the floor,bump! and then the clock also stood still.
But the poor mother ran out of the house and cried aloud for her child.
Out there, in the midst of the snow, there sat a woman in long, black clothes;and she said, "Death has been in thy chamber, and I saw him hasten away withthy little child; he goes faster than the wind, and he never brings back whathe takes!"
"Oh, only tell me which way he went!" said the mother. "Tell me the way, and Ishall find him!"
"I know it!" said the woman in the black clothes. "But before I tell it, thoumust first sing for me all the songs thou hast sung for thy child! I am fondof them. I have heard them before; I am Night; I saw thy tears whilst thousang'st them!"
"I will sing them all, all!" said the mother. "But do not stop me now--I mayovertake him--I may find my child!"
But Night stood still and mute. Then the mother wrung her hands, sang andwept, and there were many songs, but yet many more tears; and then Night said,"Go to the right, into the dark pine forest; thither I saw Death take his waywith thy little child!"
The roads crossed each other in the depths of the forest, and she no longerknew whither she should go! then there stood a thorn-bush; there was neitherleaf nor flower on it, it was also in the cold winter season, and ice-flakeshung on the branches.
"Hast thou not seen Death go past with my little child?" said the mother.
"Yes," said the thorn-bush; "but I will not tell thee which way he took,unless thou wilt first warm me up at thy heart. I am freezing to death; Ishall become a lump of ice!"
And she pressed the thorn-bush to her breast, so firmly, that it might bethoroughly warmed, and the thorns went right into her flesh, and her bloodflowed in large drops, but the thornbush shot forth fresh green leaves, andthere came flowers on it in the cold winter night, the heart of the afflictedmother was so warm; and the thorn-bush told her the way she should go.
She then came to a large lake, where there was neither ship nor boat. The lakewas not frozen sufficiently to bear her; neither was it open, nor low enoughthat she could wade through it; and across it she must go if she would findher child! Then she lay down to drink up the lake, and that was animpossibility for a human being, but the afflicted mother thought that amiracle might happen nevertheless.
"Oh, what would I not give to come to my child!" said the weeping mother; andshe wept still more, and her eyes sunk down in the depths of the waters, andbecame two precious pearls; but the water bore her up, as if she sat in aswing, and she flew in the rocking waves to the shore on the opposite side,where there stood a mile-broad, strange house, one knew not if it were amountain with forests and caverns, or if it were built up; but the poor mothercould not see it; she had wept her eyes out.
"Where shall I find Death, who took away my little child?" said she.
"He has not come here yet!" said the old grave woman, who was appointed tolook after Death's great greenhouse! "How have you been able to find the wayhither? And who has helped you?"
"OUR LORD has helped me," said she. "He is merciful, and you will also be so!Where shall I find my little child?"
"Nay, I know not," said the woman, "and you cannot see! Many flowers and treeshave withered this night; Death will soon come and plant them over again!You certainly know that every person has his or her life's tree or flower,just as everyone happens to be settled; they look like other plants, but theyhave pulsations of the heart. Children's hearts can also beat; go after yours,perhaps you may know your child's; but what will you give me if I tell youwhat you shall do more?"
"I have nothing to give," said the afflicted mother, "but I will go to theworld's end for you!"
"Nay, I have nothing to do there!" said the woman. "But you can give me yourlong black hair; you know yourself that it is fine, and that I like! You shallhave my white hair instead, and that's always something!"
"Do you demand nothing else?" said she. "That I will gladly give you!" And shegave her her fine black hair, and got the old woman's snow-white hair instead.
So they went into Death's great greenhouse, where flowers and trees grewstrangely into one another. There stood fine hyacinths under glass bells, andthere stood strong-stemmed peonies; there grew water plants, some so fresh,others half sick, the water-snakes lay down on them, and black crabs pinchedtheir stalks. There stood beautiful palm-trees, oaks, and plantains; therestood parsley and flowering thyme: every tree and every flower had its name;each of them was a human life, the human frame still lived--one in China, andanother in Greenland--round about in the world. There were large trees insmall pots, so that they stood so stunted in growth, and ready to burst thepots; in other places, there was a little dull flower in rich mould, with mossround about it, and it was so petted and nursed. But the distressed motherbent down over all the smallest plants, and heard within them how the humanheart beat; and amongst millions she knew her child's.
"There it is!" cried she, and stretched her hands out over a little bluecrocus, that hung quite sickly on one side.
"Don't touch the flower!" said the old woman. "But place yourself here, andwhen Death comes--I expect him every moment--do not let him pluck the flowerup, but threaten him that you will do the same with the others. Then he willbe afraid! He is responsible for them to OUR LORD, and no one dares to pluckthem up before HE gives leave."
All at once an icy cold rushed through the great hall, and the blind mothercould feel that it was Death that came.
"How hast thou been able to find thy way hither?" he asked. "How couldst thoucome quicker than I?"
"I am a mother," said she.
And Death stretched out his long hand towards the fine little flower, but sheheld her hands fast around his, so tight, and yet afraid that she should touchone of the leaves. Then Death blew on her hands, and she felt that it wascolder than the cold wind, and her hands fell down powerless.
"Thou canst not do anything against me!" said Death.
"But OUR LORD can!" said she.
"I only do His bidding!" said Death. "I am His gardener, I take all Hisflowers and trees, and plant them out in the great garden of Paradise, in theunknown land; but how they grow there, and how it is there I dare not tellthee."
"Give me back my child!" said the mother, and she wept and prayed. At once sheseized hold of two beautiful flowers close by, with each hand, and cried outto Death, "I will tear all thy flowers off, for I am in despair."
"Touch them not!" said Death. "Thou say'st that thou art so unhappy, and nowthou wilt make another mother equally unhappy."
"Another mother!" said the poor woman, and directly let go her hold of boththe flowers.
"There, thou hast thine eyes," said Death; "I fished them up from the lake,they shone so bright; I knew not they were thine. Take them again, they arenow brighter than before; now look down into the deep well close by; I shalltell thee the names of the two flowers thou wouldst have torn up, and thouwilt see their whole future life--their whole human existence: and see whatthou wast about to disturb and destroy."
And she looked down into the well; and it was a happiness to see how the onebecame a blessing to the world, to see how much happiness and joy were felteverywhere. And she saw the other's life, and it was sorrow and distress,horror, and wretchedness.
"Both of them are God's will!" said Death.
"Which of them is Misfortune's flower and which is that of Happiness?" askedshe.
"That I will not tell thee," said Death; "but this thou shalt know from me,that the one flower was thy own child! it was thy child's fate thousaw'st--thy own child's future life!"
Then the mother screamed with terror, "Which of them was my child? Tell it me!Save the innocent! Save my child from all that misery! Rather take it away!Take it into God's kingdom! Forget my tears, forget my prayers, and all that Ihave done!"
"I do not understand thee!" said Death. "Wilt thou have thy child again, orshall I go with it there, where thou dost not know!"
Then the mother wrung her hands, fell on her knees, and prayed to our Lord:"Oh, hear me not when I pray against Thy will, which is the best! hear me not!hear me not!"
And she bowed her head down in her lap, and Death took her child and went withit into the unknown land.

THE HAPPY FAMILY

THE HAPPY FAMILY

Really, the largest green leaf in this country is a dock-leaf; if one holds itbefore one, it is like a whole apron, and if one holds it over one's head inrainy weather, it is almost as good as an umbrella, for it is so immenselylarge. The burdock never grows alone, but where there grows one there alwaysgrow several: it is a great delight, and all this delightfulness is snails'food. The great white snails which persons of quality in former times madefricassees of, ate, and said, "Hem, hem! how delicious!" for they thought ittasted so delicate--lived on dock-leaves, and therefore burdock seeds weresown.
Now, there was an old manor-house, where they no longer ate snails, they werequite extinct; but the burdocks were not extinct, they grew and grew all overthe walks and all the beds; they could not get the mastery over them--it was awhole forest of burdocks. Here and there stood an apple and a plum-tree, orelse one never would have thought that it was a garden; all was burdocks, andthere lived the two last venerable old snails.
They themselves knew not how old they were, but they could remember very wellthat there had been many more; that they were of a family from foreign lands,and that for them and theirs the whole forest was planted. They had never beenoutside it, but they knew that there was still something more in the world,which was called the manor-house, and that there they were boiled, and thenthey became black, and were then placed on a silver dish; but what happenedfurther they knew not; or, in fact, what it was to be boiled, and to lie on asilver dish, they could not possibly imagine; but it was said to bedelightful, and particularly genteel. Neither the chafers, the toads, nor theearth-worms, whom they asked about it could give them any information--none ofthem had been boiled or laid on a silver dish.
The old white snails were the first persons of distinction in the world, thatthey knew; the forest was planted for their sake, and the manor-house wasthere that they might be boiled and laid on a silver dish.
Now they lived a very lonely and happy life; and as they had no childrenthemselves, they had adopted a little common snail, which they brought up astheir own; but the little one would not grow, for he was of a common family;but the old ones, especially Dame Mother Snail, thought they could observe howhe increased in size, and she begged father, if he could not see it, that hewould at least feel the little snail's shell; and then he felt it, and foundthe good dame was right.
One day there was a heavy storm of rain.
"Hear how it beats like a drum on the dock-leaves!" said Father Snail.
"There are also rain-drops!" said Mother Snail. "And now the rain pours rightdown the stalk! You will see that it will be wet here! I am very happy tothink that we have our good house, and the little one has his also! There ismore done for us than for all other creatures, sure enough; but can you notsee that we are folks of quality in the world? We are provided with a housefrom our birth, and the burdock forest is planted for our sakes! I should liketo know how far it extends, and what there is outside!"
"There is nothing at all," said Father Snail. "No place can be better thanours, and I have nothing to wish for!"
"Yes," said the dame. "I would willingly go to the manorhouse, be boiled, andlaid on a silver dish; all our forefathers have been treated so; there issomething extraordinary in it, you may be sure!"
"The manor-house has most likely fallen to ruin!" said Father Snail. "Or theburdocks have grown up over it, so that they cannot come out. There need not,however, be any haste about that; but you are always in such a tremendoushurry, and the little one is beginning to be the same. Has he not beencreeping up that stalk these three days? It gives me a headache when I look upto him!"
"You must not scold him," said Mother Snail. "He creeps so carefully; he willafford us much pleasure--and we have nothing but him to live for! But haveyou not thought of it? Where shall we get a wife for him? Do you not thinkthat there are some of our species at a great distance in the interior of theburdock forest?"
"Black snails, I dare say, there are enough of," said the old one. "Blacksnails without a house--but they are so common, and so conceited. But we mightgive the ants a commission to look out for us; they run to and fro as if theyhad something to do, and they certainly know of a wife for our little snail!"
"I know one, sure enough--the most charming one!" said one of the ants. "But Iam afraid we shall hardly succeed, for she is a queen!"
"That is nothing!" said the old folks. "Has she a house?"
"She has a palace!" said the ant. "The finest ant's palace, with seven hundredpassages!"
"I thank you!" said Mother Snail. "Our son shall not go into an ant-hill; ifyou know nothing better than that, we shall give the commission to the whitegnats. They fly far and wide, in rain and sunshine; they know the whole foresthere, both within and without."
"We have a wife for him," said the gnats. "At a hundred human paces from herethere sits a little snail in her house, on a gooseberry bush; she is quitelonely, and old enough to be married. It is only a hundred human paces!"
"Well, then, let her come to him!" said the old ones. "He has a whole forestof burdocks, she has only a bush!"
And so they went and fetched little Miss Snail. It was a whole week before shearrived; but therein was just the very best of it, for one could thus see thatshe was of the same species.
And then the marriage was celebrated. Six earth-worms shone as well as theycould. In other respects the whole went off very quietly, for the old folkscould not bear noise and merriment; but old Dame Snail made a brilliantspeech. Father Snail could not speak, he was too much affected; and so theygave them as a dowry and inheritance, the whole forest of burdocks, andsaid--what they had always said--that it was the best in the world; and ifthey lived honestly and decently, and increased and multiplied, they and theirchildren would once in the course of time come to the manor-house, be boiledblack, and laid on silver dishes. After this speech was made, the old onescrept into their shells, and never more came out. They slept; the young couplegoverned in the forest, and had a numerous progeny, but they were neverboiled, and never came on the silver dishes; so from this they concluded thatthe manor-house had fallen to ruins, and that all the men in the world wereextinct; and as no one contradicted them, so, of course it was so. And therain beat on the dock-leaves to make drum-music for their sake, and the sunshone in order to give the burdock forest a color for their sakes; and theywere very happy, and the whole family was happy; for they, indeed were so.

THE OLD HOUSE

THE OLD HOUSE

In the street, up there, was an old, a very old house--it was almost threehundred years old, for that might be known by reading the great beam on whichthe date of the year was carved: together with tulips and hop-binds there werewhole verses spelled as in former times, and over every window was a distortedface cut out in the beam. The one story stood forward a great way over theother; and directly under the eaves was a leaden spout with a dragon's head;the rain-water should have run out of the mouth, but it ran out of the belly,for there was a hole in the spout.
All the other houses in the street were so new and so neat, with large windowpanes and smooth walls, one could easily see that they would have nothing todo with the old house: they certainly thought, "How long is that old decayedthing to stand here as a spectacle in the street? And then the projectingwindows stand so far out, that no one can see from our windows what happens inthat direction! The steps are as broad as those of a palace, and as high as toa church tower. The iron railings look just like the door to an old familyvault, and then they have brass tops--that's so stupid!"
On the other side of the street were also new and neat houses, and theythought just as the others did; but at the window opposite the old house theresat a little boy with fresh rosy cheeks and bright beaming eyes: he certainlyliked the old house best, and that both in sunshine and moonshine. And when helooked across at the wall where the mortar had fallen out, he could sit andfind out there the strangest figures imaginable; exactly as the street hadappeared before, with steps, projecting windows, and pointed gables; he couldsee soldiers with halberds, and spouts where the water ran, like dragons andserpents. That was a house to look at; and there lived an old man, who woreplush breeches; and he had a coat with large brass buttons, and a wig that onecould see was a real wig. Every morning there came an old fellow to him whoput his rooms in order, and went on errands; otherwise, the old man in theplush breeches was quite alone in the old house. Now and then he came to thewindow and looked out, and the little boy nodded to him, and the old mannodded again, and so they became acquaintances, and then they were friends,although they had never spoken to each other--but that made no difference. Thelittle boy heard his parents say, "The old man opposite is very well off, buthe is so very, very lonely!"
The Sunday following, the little boy took something, and wrapped it up in apiece of paper, went downstairs, and stood in the doorway; and when the manwho went on errands came past, he said to him--
"I say, master! will you give this to the old man over the way from me? I havetwo pewter soldiers--this is one of them, and he shall have it, for I know heis so very, very lonely."
And the old errand man looked quite pleased, nodded, and took the pewtersoldier over to the old house. Afterwards there came a message; it was to askif the little boy himself had not a wish to come over and pay a visit; and sohe got permission of his parents, and then went over to the old house.
And the brass balls on the iron railings shone much brighter than ever; onewould have thought they were polished on account of the visit; and it was asif the carved-out trumpeters--for there were trumpeters, who stood in tulips,carved out on the door--blew with all their might, their cheeks appeared somuch rounder than before. Yes, they blew--"Trateratra! The little boy comes!Trateratra!"--and then the door opened.
The whole passage was hung with portraits of knights in armor, and ladies insilken gowns; and the armor rattled, and the silken gowns rustled! And thenthere was a flight of stairs which went a good way upwards, and a little waydownwards, and then one came on a balcony which was in a very dilapidatedstate, sure enough, with large holes and long crevices, but grass grew thereand leaves out of them altogether, for the whole balcony outside, the yard,and the walls, were overgrown with so much green stuff, that it looked like agarden; only a balcony. Here stood old flower-pots with faces and asses' ears,and the flowers grew just as they liked. One of the pots was quite overrun onall sides with pinks, that is to say, with the green part; shoot stood byshoot, and it said quite distinctly, "The air has cherished me, the sun haskissed me, and promised me a little flower on Sunday! a little flower onSunday!"
And then they entered a chamber where the walls were covered with hog'sleather, and printed with gold flowers.
"The gilding decays, But hog's leather stays!"
said the walls.
And there stood easy-chairs, with such high backs, and so carved out, and witharms on both sides. "Sit down! sit down!" said they. "Ugh! how I creak; now Ishall certainly get the gout, like the old clothespress, ugh!"
And then the little boy came into the room where the projecting windows were,and where the old man sat.
"I thank you for the pewter soldier, my little friend!" said the old man. "AndI thank you because you come over to me."
"Thankee! thankee!" or "cranky! cranky!" sounded from all the furniture; therewas so much of it, that each article stood in the other's way, to get a lookat the little boy.
In the middle of the wall hung a picture representing a beautiful lady, soyoung, so glad, but dressed quite as in former times, with clothes that stoodquite stiff, and with powder in her hair; she neither said "thankee, thankee!"nor "cranky, cranky!" but looked with her mild eyes at the little boy, whodirectly asked the old man, "Where did you get her?"
"Yonder, at the broker's," said the old man, "where there are so many pictureshanging. No one knows or cares about them, for they are all of them buried;but I knew her in by-gone days, and now she has been dead and gone these fiftyyears!"
Under the picture, in a glazed frame, there hung a bouquet of witheredflowers; they were almost fifty years old; they looked so very old!
The pendulum of the great clock went to and fro, and the hands turned, andeverything in the room became still older; but they did not observe it.
"They say at home," said the little boy, "that you are so very, very lonely!"
"Oh!" said he. "The old thoughts, with what they may bring with them, come andvisit me, and now you also come! I am very well off!"
Then he took a book with pictures in it down from the shelf; there werewhole long processions and pageants, with the strangest characters, which onenever sees now-a-days; soldiers like the knave of clubs, and citizens withwaving flags: the tailors had theirs, with a pair of shears held by twolions--and the shoemakers theirs, without boots, but with an eagle that hadtwo heads, for the shoemakers must have everything so that they can say, it isa pair! Yes, that was a picture book!
The old man now went into the other room to fetch preserves, apples, andnuts--yes, it was delightful over there in the old house.
"I cannot bear it any longer!" said the pewter soldier, who sat on thedrawers. "It is so lonely and melancholy here! But when one has been in afamily circle one cannot accustom oneself to this life! I cannot bear it anylonger! The whole day is so long, and the evenings are still longer! Here itis not at all as it is over the way at your home, where your father andmother spoke so pleasantly, and where you and all your sweet children madesuch a delightful noise. Nay, how lonely the old man is--do you think that hegets kisses? Do you think he gets mild eyes, or a Christmas tree? He will getnothing but a grave! I can bear it no longer!"
"You must not let it grieve you so much," said the little boy. "I find it sovery delightful here, and then all the old thoughts, with what they may bringwith them, they come and visit here."
"Yes, it's all very well, but I see nothing of them, and I don't know them!"said the pewter soldier. "I cannot bear it!"
"But you must!" said the little boy.
Then in came the old man with the most pleased and happy face, the mostdelicious preserves, apples, and nuts, and so the little boy thought no moreabout the pewter soldier.
The little boy returned home happy and pleased, and weeks and days passedaway, and nods were made to the old house, and from the old house, and thenthe little boy went over there again.
The carved trumpeters blew, "Trateratra! There is the little boy! Trateratra!"and the swords and armor on the knights' portraits rattled, and the silk gownsrustled; the hog's leather spoke, and the old chairs had the gout in theirlegs and rheumatism in their backs: Ugh! it was exactly like the first time,for over there one day and hour was just like another.
"I cannot bear it!" said the pewter soldier. "I have shed pewter tears! It istoo melancholy! Rather let me go to the wars and lose arms and legs! It wouldat least be a change. I cannot bear it longer! Now, I know what it is to havea visit from one's old thoughts, with what they may bring with them! I havehad a visit from mine, and you may be sure it is no pleasant thing in the end;I was at last about to jump down from the drawers.
"I saw you all over there at home so distinctly, as if you really were here;it was again that Sunday morning; all you children stood before the table andsung your Psalms, as you do every morning. You stood devoutly with foldedhands; and father and mother were just as pious; and then the door was opened,and little sister Mary, who is not two years old yet, and who always danceswhen she hears music or singing, of whatever kind it may be, was put into theroom--though she ought not to have been there--and then she began to dance,but could not keep time, because the tones were so long; and then she stood,first on the one leg, and bent her head forwards, and then on the other leg,and bent her head forwards--but all would not do. You stood very seriously alltogether, although it was difficult enough; but I laughed to myself, and thenI fell off the table, and got a bump, which I have still--for it was notright of me to laugh. But the whole now passes before me again in thought, andeverything that I have lived to see; and these are the old thoughts, with whatthey may bring with them.
"Tell me if you still sing on Sundays? Tell me something about little Mary!And how my comrade, the other pewter soldier, lives! Yes, he is happy enough,that's sure! I cannot bear it any longer!"
"You are given away as a present!" said the little boy. "You must remain. Canyou not understand that?"
The old man now came with a drawer, in which there was much to be seen, both"tin boxes" and "balsam boxes," old cards, so large and so gilded, such as onenever sees them now. And several drawers were opened, and the piano wasopened; it had landscapes on the inside of the lid, and it was so hoarse whenthe old man played on it! and then he hummed a song.
"Yes, she could sing that!" said he, and nodded to the portrait, which hehad bought at the broker's, and the old man's eyes shone so bright!
"I will go to the wars! I will go to the wars!" shouted the pewter soldier asloud as he could, and threw himself off the drawers right down on the floor.What became of him? The old man sought, and the little boy sought; he wasaway, and he stayed away.
"I shall find him!" said the old man; but he never found him. The floor wastoo open--the pewter soldier had fallen through a crevice, and there he lay asin an open tomb.
That day passed, and the little boy went home, and that week passed, andseveral weeks too. The windows were quite frozen, the little boy was obligedto sit and breathe on them to get a peep-hole over to the old house, and therethe snow had been blown into all the carved work and inscriptions; it layquite up over the steps, just as if there was no one at home--nor was thereany one at home--the old man was dead!
In the evening there was a hearse seen before the door, and he was borne intoit in his coffin: he was now to go out into the country, to lie in his grave.He was driven out there, but no one followed; all his friends were dead, andthe little boy kissed his hand to the coffin as it was driven away.
Some days afterwards there was an auction at the old house, and the little boysaw from his window how they carried the old knights and the old ladies away,the flower-pots with the long ears, the old chairs, and the oldclothes-presses. Something came here, and something came there; the portraitof her who had been found at the broker's came to the broker's again; andthere it hung, for no one knew her more--no one cared about the old picture.
In the spring they pulled the house down, for, as people said, it was a ruin.One could see from the street right into the room with the hog's-leatherhanging, which was slashed and torn; and the green grass and leaves about thebalcony hung quite wild about the falling beams. And then it was put torights.
"That was a relief," said the neighboring houses.
A fine house was built there, with large windows, and smooth white walls; butbefore it, where the old house had in fact stood, was a little garden laidout, and a wild grapevine ran up the wall of the neighboring house. Before thegarden there was a large iron railing with an iron door, it looked quitesplendid, and people stood still and peeped in, and the sparrows hung byscores in the vine, and chattered away at each other as well as they could,but it was not about the old house, for they could not remember it, so manyyears had passed--so many that the little boy had grown up to a whole man,yes, a clever man, and a pleasure to his parents; and he had just beenmarried, and, together with his little wife, had come to live in the househere, where the garden was; and he stood by her there whilst she planted afield-flower that she found so pretty; she planted it with her little hand,and pressed the earth around it with her fingers. Oh! what was that? She hadstuck herself. There sat something pointed, straight out of the soft mould.
It was--yes, guess! It was the pewter soldier, he that was lost up at the oldman's, and had tumbled and turned about amongst the timber and the rubbish,and had at last laid for many years in the ground.
The young wife wiped the dirt off the soldier, first with a green leaf, andthen with her fine handkerchief--it had such a delightful smell, that it wasto the pewter soldier just as if he had awaked from a trance.
"Let me see him," said the young man. He laughed, and then shook his head."Nay, it cannot be he; but he reminds me of a story about a pewter soldierwhich I had when I was a little boy!" And then he told his wife about the oldhouse, and the old man, and about the pewter soldier that he sent over to himbecause he was so very, very lonely; and he told it as correctly as it hadreally been, so that the tears came into the eyes of his young wife, onaccount of the old house and the old man.
"It may possibly be, however, that it is the same pewter soldier!" said she."I will take care of it, and remember all that you have told me; but you mustshow me the old man's grave!"
"But I do not know it," said he, "and no one knows it! All his friends weredead, no one took care of it, and I was then a little boy!"
"How very, very lonely he must have been!" said she.
"Very, very lonely!" said the pewter soldier. "But it is delightful not to beforgotten!"
"Delightful!" shouted something close by; but no one, except the pewtersoldier, saw that it was a piece of the hog's-leather hangings; it had lostall its gilding, it looked like a piece of wet clay, but it had an opinion,and it gave it:
"The gilding decays, But hog's leather stays!"
This the pewter soldier did not believe.

THE BELL

THE BELL

People said "The Evening Bell is sounding, the sun is setting." For a strangewondrous tone was heard in the narrow streets of a large town. It was like thesound of a church-bell: but it was only heard for a moment, for the rolling ofthe carriages and the voices of the multitude made too great a noise.
Those persons who were walking outside the town, where the houses were fartherapart, with gardens or little fields between them, could see the evening skystill better, and heard the sound of the bell much more distinctly. It was asif the tones came from a church in the still forest; people lookedthitherward, and felt their minds attuned most solemnly.
A long time passed, and people said to each other--"I wonder if there is achurch out in the wood? The bell has a tone that is wondrous sweet; let usstroll thither, and examine the matter nearer." And the rich people drove out,and the poor walked, but the way seemed strangely long to them; and when theycame to a clump of willows which grew on the skirts of the forest, they satdown, and looked up at the long branches, and fancied they were now in thedepth of the green wood. The confectioner of the town came out, and set up hisbooth there; and soon after came another confectioner, who hung a bell overhis stand, as a sign or ornament, but it had no clapper, and it was tarredover to preserve it from the rain. When all the people returned home, theysaid it had been very romantic, and that it was quite a different sort ofthing to a pic-nic or tea-party. There were three persons who asserted theyhad penetrated to the end of the forest, and that they had always heard thewonderful sounds of the bell, but it had seemed to them as if it had come fromthe town. One wrote a whole poem about it, and said the bell sounded like thevoice of a mother to a good dear child, and that no melody was sweeter thanthe tones of the bell. The king of the country was also observant of it, andvowed that he who could discover whence the sounds proceeded, should have thetitle of "Universal Bell-ringer," even if it were not really a bell.
Many persons now went to the wood, for the sake of getting the place, but oneonly returned with a sort of explanation; for nobody went far enough, that onenot further than the others. However, he said that the sound proceeded from avery large owl, in a hollow tree; a sort of learned owl, that continuallyknocked its head against the branches. But whether the sound came fromhis head or from the hollow tree, that no one could say with certainty. So nowhe got the place of "Universal Bell-ringer," and wrote yearly a short treatise"On the Owl"; but everybody was just as wise as before.
It was the day of confirmation. The clergyman had spoken so touchingly, thechildren who were confirmed had been greatly moved; it was an eventful day forthem; from children they become all at once grown-up-persons; it was as iftheir infant souls were now to fly all at once into persons with moreunderstanding. The sun was shining gloriously; the children that had beenconfirmed went out of the town; and from the wood was borne towards them thesounds of the unknown bell with wonderful distinctness. They all immediatelyfelt a wish to go thither; all except three. One of them had to go home to tryon a ball-dress; for it was just the dress and the ball which had caused herto be confirmed this time, for otherwise she would not have come; the otherwas a poor boy, who had borrowed his coat and boots to be confirmed in fromthe innkeeper's son, and he was to give them back by a certain hour; the thirdsaid that he never went to a strange place if his parents were not withhim--that he had always been a good boy hitherto, and would still be so nowthat he was confirmed, and that one ought not to laugh at him for it: theothers, however, did make fun of him, after all.
There were three, therefore, that did not go; the others hastened on. The sunshone, the birds sang, and the children sang too, and each held the other bythe hand; for as yet they had none of them any high office, and were all ofequal rank in the eye of God.
But two of the youngest soon grew tired, and both returned to town; two littlegirls sat down, and twined garlands, so they did not go either; and when theothers reached the willow-tree, where the confectioner was, they said, "Now weare there! In reality the bell does not exist; it is only a fancy that peoplehave taken into their heads!"
At the same moment the bell sounded deep in the wood, so clear and solemnlythat five or six determined to penetrate somewhat further. It was so thick,and the foliage so dense, that it was quite fatiguing to proceed. Woodroof andanemonies grew almost too high; blooming convolvuluses and blackberry-busheshung in long garlands from tree to tree, where the nightingale sang and thesunbeams were playing: it was very beautiful, but it was no place for girls togo; their clothes would get so torn. Large blocks of stone lay there,overgrown with moss of every color; the fresh spring bubbled forth, and made astrange gurgling sound.
"That surely cannot be the bell," said one of the children, lying down andlistening. "This must be looked to." So he remained, and let the others go onwithout him.
They afterwards came to a little house, made of branches and the bark oftrees; a large wild apple-tree bent over it, as if it would shower down allits blessings on the roof, where roses were blooming. The long stems twinedround the gable, on which there hung a small bell.
Was it that which people had heard? Yes, everybody was unanimous on thesubject, except one, who said that the bell was too small and too fine to beheard at so great a distance, and besides it was very different tones to thosethat could move a human heart in such a manner. It was a king's son who spoke;whereon the others said, "Such people always want to be wiser than everybodyelse."
They now let him go on alone; and as he went, his breast was filled more andmore with the forest solitude; but he still heard the little bell with whichthe others were so satisfied, and now and then, when the wind blew, he couldalso hear the people singing who were sitting at tea where the confectionerhad his tent; but the deep sound of the bell rose louder; it was almost as ifan organ were accompanying it, and the tones came from the left hand, the sidewhere the heart is placed. A rustling was heard in the bushes, and a littleboy stood before the King's Son, a boy in wooden shoes, and with so short ajacket that one could see what long wrists he had. Both knew each other: theboy was that one among the children who could not come because he had to gohome and return his jacket and boots to the innkeeper's son. This he had done,and was now going on in wooden shoes and in his humble dress, for the bellsounded with so deep a tone, and with such strange power, that proceed hemust.
"Why, then, we can go together," said the King's Son. But the poor child thathad been confirmed was quite ashamed; he looked at his wooden shoes, pulled atthe short sleeves of his jacket, and said that he was afraid he could not walkso fast; besides, he thought that the bell must be looked for to the right;for that was the place where all sorts of beautiful things were to be found.
"But there we shall not meet," said the King's Son, nodding at the same timeto the poor boy, who went into the darkest, thickest part of the wood, wherethorns tore his humble dress, and scratched his face and hands and feet tillthey bled. The King's Son got some scratches too; but the sun shone on hispath, and it is him that we will follow, for he was an excellent and resoluteyouth.
"I must and will find the bell," said he, "even if I am obliged to go to theend of the world."
The ugly apes sat upon the trees, and grinned. "Shall we thrash him?" saidthey. "Shall we thrash him? He is the son of a king!"
But on he went, without being disheartened, deeper and deeper into the wood,where the most wonderful flowers were growing. There stood white lilies withblood-red stamina, skyblue tulips, which shone as they waved in the winds, andapple-trees, the apples of which looked exactly like large soapbubbles: soonly think how the trees must have sparkled in the sunshine! Around the nicestgreen meads, where the deer were playing in the grass, grew magnificent oaksand beeches; and if the bark of one of the trees was cracked, there grass andlong creeping plants grew in the crevices. And there were large calm lakesthere too, in which white swans were swimming, and beat the air with theirwings. The King's Son often stood still and listened. He thought the bellsounded from the depths of these still lakes; but then he remarked again thatthe tone proceeded not from there, but farther off, from out the depths of theforest.
The sun now set: the atmosphere glowed like fire. It was still in the woods,so very still; and he fell on his knees, sung his evening hymn, and said: "Icannot find what I seek; the sun is going down, and night is coming--the dark,dark night. Yet perhaps I may be able once more to see the round red sunbefore he entirely disappears. I will climb up yonder rock."
And he seized hold of the creeping-plants, and the roots of trees--climbed upthe moist stones where the water-snakes were writhing and the toads werecroaking--and he gained the summit before the sun had quite gone down. Howmagnificent was the sight from this height! The sea--the great, the glorioussea, that dashed its long waves against the coast--was stretched out beforehim. And yonder, where sea and sky meet, stood the sun, like a large shiningaltar, all melted together in the most glowing colors. And the wood and thesea sang a song of rejoicing, and his heart sang with the rest: all nature wasa vast holy church, in which the trees and the buoyant clouds were thepillars, flowers and grass the velvet carpeting, and heaven itself the largecupola. The red colors above faded away as the sun vanished, but a millionstars were lighted, a million lamps shone; and the King's Son spread out hisarms towards heaven, and wood, and sea; when at the same moment, coming by apath to the right, appeared, in his wooden shoes and jacket, the poor boy whohad been confirmed with him. He had followed his own path, and had reached thespot just as soon as the son of the king had done. They ran towards eachother, and stood together hand in hand in the vast church of nature and ofpoetry, while over them sounded the invisible holy bell: blessed spiritsfloated around them, and lifted up their voices in a rejoicing hallelujah!