Hans Christian Andersen - Stories from Hans Andersen

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[Illustration]

STORIES _FROM_
HANS ANDERSEN

_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY_
EDMUND DULAC

HODDER & STOUGHTON
LIMITED LONDON

ILLUSTRATIONS

_THE SNOW QUEEN_
PAGE
One day he was in a high state of delight because he had
invented a mirror 5

Many a winter's night she flies through the streets 11

Then an old, old woman came out of the house 23

She has read all the newspapers in the world, and forgotten
them again, so clever is she 37

'It is gold, it is gold!' they cried 51

Kissed her on the mouth, while big shining tears trickled
down its face 63

The Snow Queen sat in the very middle of it when she sat
at home 71

_THE NIGHTINGALE_

Even the poor fisherman ... lay still to listen to it 81

'Is it possible?' said the gentleman-in-waiting. 'I should
never have thought it was like that' 89

Took some water into their mouths to try and make the same
gurgling, ... thinking so to equal the nightingale 95

The music-master wrote five-and-twenty volumes about the
artificial bird 101

Even Death himself listened to the song 109

_THE REAL PRINCESS_

'I have hardly closed my eyes the whole night!
Heaven knows what was in the bed. I seemed to
be lying upon some hard thing, and my whole body
is black and blue this morning. It is terrible!' _Frontispiece_

_THE GARDEN OF PARADISE_

His grandmother had told him ... that every flower in the
Garden of Paradise was a delicious cake 117

The Eastwind flew more swiftly still 131

The Fairy of the Garden now advanced to meet them 139

The Fairy dropped her shimmering garment, drew back the
branches, and a moment after was hidden within their depths 147

_THE MERMAID_

The Merman King had been for many years a widower 155

He must have died if the little mermaid had not come to
the rescue 169

At the mere sight of the bright liquid 183

The prince asked who she was and how she came there 189

Dashed overboard and fell, her body dissolving into foam 199

_THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES_

The poor old minister stared as hard as he could, but he
could not see anything 209

Then the Emperor walked along in the procession under the
gorgeous canopy, and everybody in the streets and at the
windows exclaimed, 'How beautiful the Emperor's new
clothes are!' 215

_THE WIND'S TALE_

She played upon the ringing lute, and sang to its tones 225

She was always picking flowers and herbs 233

He lifted it with a trembling hand and shouted with a
trembling voice: 'Gold! gold!' 241

Waldemar Daa hid it in his bosom, took his staff in his
hand, and, with his three daughters, the once wealthy
gentleman walked out of Borreby Hall for the last time 247

THE SNOW QUEEN

A TALE IN SEVEN STORIES

FIRST STORY

WHICH DEALS WITH A MIRROR AND ITS FRAGMENTS

[Illustration: _One day he was in a high state of delight because he had
invented a mirror with this peculiarity, that every good and pretty
thing reflected in it shrank away to almost nothing._]

Now we are about to begin, and you must attend; and when we get to the
end of the story, you will know more than you do now about a very wicked
hobgoblin. He was one of the worst kind; in fact he was a real demon.
One day he was in a high state of delight because he had invented a
mirror with this peculiarity, that every good and pretty thing reflected
in it shrank away to almost nothing. On the other hand, every bad and
good-for-nothing thing stood out and looked its worst. The most
beautiful landscapes reflected in it looked like boiled spinach, and the
best people became hideous, or else they were upside down and had no
bodies. Their faces were distorted beyond recognition, and if they had
even one freckle it appeared to spread all over the nose and mouth. The
demon thought this immensely amusing. If a good thought passed through
any one's mind, it turned to a grin in the mirror, and this caused real
delight to the demon. All the scholars in the demon's school, for he
kept a school, reported that a miracle had taken place: now for the
first time it had become possible to see what the world and mankind were
really like. They ran about all over with the mirror, till at last there
was not a country or a person which had not been seen in this distorting
mirror. They even wanted to fly up to heaven with it to mock the angels;
but the higher they flew, the more it grinned, so much so that they
could hardly hold it, and at last it slipped out of their hands and fell
to the earth, shivered into hundreds of millions and billions of bits.
Even then it did more harm than ever. Some of these bits were not as big
as a grain of sand, and these flew about all over the world, getting
into people's eyes, and, once in, they stuck there, and distorted
everything they looked at, or made them see everything that was amiss.
Each tiniest grain of glass kept the same power as that possessed by the
whole mirror. Some people even got a bit of the glass into their hearts,
and that was terrible, for the heart became like a lump of ice. Some of
the fragments were so big that they were used for window panes, but it
was not advisable to look at one's friends through these panes. Other
bits were made into spectacles, and it was a bad business when people
put on these spectacles meaning to be just. The bad demon laughed
till he split his sides; it tickled him to see the mischief he had done.
But some of these fragments were still left floating about the world,
and you shall hear what happened to them.

SECOND STORY

ABOUT A LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL

[Illustration: _Many a winter's night she flies through the streets and
peeps in at the windows, and then the ice freezes on the panes into
wonderful patterns like flowers._]

In a big town crowded with houses and people, where there is no room for
gardens, people have to be content with flowers in pots instead. In one
of these towns lived two children who managed to have something bigger
than a flower pot for a garden. They were not brother and sister, but
they were just as fond of each other as if they had been. Their parents
lived opposite each other in two attic rooms. The roof of one house just
touched the roof of the next one, with only a rain-water gutter between
them. They each had a little dormer window, and one only had to step
over the gutter to get from one house to the other. Each of the parents
had a large window-box, in which they grew pot herbs and a little
rose-tree. There was one in each box, and they both grew splendidly.
Then it occurred to the parents to put the boxes across the gutter, from
house to house, and they looked just like two banks of flowers. The pea
vines hung down over the edges of the boxes, and the roses threw out
long creepers which twined round the windows. It was almost like a green
triumphal arch. The boxes were high, and the children knew they must not
climb up on to them, but they were often allowed to have their little
stools out under the rose-trees, and there they had delightful games. Of
course in the winter there was an end to these amusements. The windows
were often covered with hoar-frost; then they would warm coppers on the
stove and stick them on the frozen panes, where they made lovely
peep-holes, as round as possible. Then a bright eye would peep through
these holes, one from each window. The little boy's name was Kay, and
the little girl's Gerda.

In the summer they could reach each other with one bound, but in the
winter they had to go down all the stairs in one house and up all the
stairs in the other, and outside there were snowdrifts.

'Look! the white bees are swarming,' said the old grandmother.

'Have they a queen bee, too?' asked the little boy, for he knew that
there was a queen among the real bees.

'Yes, indeed they have,' said the grandmother. 'She flies where the
swarm is thickest. She is biggest of them all, and she never remains on
the ground. She always flies up again to the sky. Many a winter's night
she flies through the streets and peeps in at the windows, and then the
ice freezes on the panes into wonderful patterns like flowers.'

'Oh yes, we have seen that,' said both children, and then they knew
it was true.

'Can the Snow Queen come in here?' asked the little girl.

'Just let her come,' said the boy, 'and I will put her on the stove,
where she will melt.'

But the grandmother smoothed his hair and told him more stories.

In the evening when little Kay was at home and half undressed, he crept
up on to the chair by the window, and peeped out of the little hole. A
few snow-flakes were falling, and one of these, the biggest, remained on
the edge of the window-box. It grew bigger and bigger, till it became
the figure of a woman, dressed in the finest white gauze, which appeared
to be made of millions of starry flakes. She was delicately lovely, but
all ice, glittering, dazzling ice. Still she was alive, her eyes shone
like two bright stars, but there was no rest or peace in them. She
nodded to the window and waved her hand. The little boy was frightened
and jumped down off the chair, and then he fancied that a big bird flew
past the window.

The next day was bright and frosty, and then came the thaw--and after
that the spring. The sun shone, green buds began to appear, the swallows
built their nests, and people began to open their windows. The little
children began to play in their garden on the roof again. The roses were
in splendid bloom that summer; the little girl had learnt a hymn, and
there was something in it about roses, and that made her think of her
own. She sang it to the little boy, and then he sang it with her--

'Where roses deck the flowery vale,
There, Infant Jesus, we thee hail!'

The children took each other by the hands, kissed the roses, and
rejoiced in God's bright sunshine, and spoke to it as if the Child Jesus
were there. What lovely summer days they were, and how delightful it was
to sit out under the fresh rose-trees, which seemed never tired of
blooming.

Kay and Gerda were looking at a picture book of birds and animals one
day--it had just struck five by the church clock--when Kay said, 'Oh,
something struck my heart, and I have got something in my eye!'

The little girl put her arms round his neck, he blinked his eye; there
was nothing to be seen.

'I believe it is gone,' he said; but it was not gone. It was one of
those very grains of glass from the mirror, the magic mirror. You
remember that horrid mirror, in which all good and great things
reflected in it became small and mean, while the bad things were
magnified, and every flaw became very apparent.

Poor Kay! a grain of it had gone straight to his heart, and would soon
turn it to a lump of ice. He did not feel it any more, but it was still
there.

'Why do you cry?' he asked; 'it makes you look ugly; there's nothing the
matter with me. How horrid!' he suddenly cried; 'there's a worm in that
rose, and that one is quite crooked; after all, they are nasty roses,
and so are the boxes they are growing in!' He kicked the box and broke
off two of the roses.

'What are you doing, Kay?' cried the little girl. When he saw her alarm,
he broke off another rose, and then ran in by his own window, and left
dear little Gerda alone.

When she next got out the picture book he said it was only fit for
babies in long clothes. When his grandmother told them stories he always
had a but--, and if he could manage it, he liked to get behind her
chair, put on her spectacles and imitate her. He did it very well and
people laughed at him. He was soon able to imitate every one in the
street; he could make fun of all their peculiarities and failings. 'He
will turn out a clever fellow,' said people. But it was all that bit of
glass in his heart, that bit of glass in his eye, and it made him tease
little Gerda who was so devoted to him. He played quite different games
now; he seemed to have grown older. One winter's day, when the snow was
falling fast, he brought in a big magnifying glass; he held out the tail
of his blue coat, and let the snow flakes fall upon it.

'Now look through the glass, Gerda!' he said; every snowflake was
magnified, and looked like a lovely flower, or a sharply pointed star.

'Do you see how cleverly they are made?' said Kay. 'Much more
interesting than looking at real flowers. And there is not a single flaw
in them; they are perfect, if only they would not melt.'

Shortly after, he appeared in his thick gloves, with his sledge on his
back. He shouted right into Gerda's ear, 'I have got leave to drive in
the big square where the other boys play!' and away he went.

In the big square the bolder boys used to tie their little sledges to
the farm carts and go a long way in this fashion. They had no end of fun
over it. Just in the middle of their games a big sledge came along; it
was painted white, and the occupant wore a white fur coat and cap. The
sledge drove twice round the square, and Kay quickly tied his sledge on
behind. Then off they went, faster, and faster, into the next street.
The driver turned round and nodded to Kay in the most friendly way, just
as if they knew each other. Every time Kay wanted to loose his sledge
the person nodded again, and Kay stayed where he was, and they drove
right out through the town gates. Then the snow began to fall so heavily
that the little boy could not see a hand before him as they rushed
along. He undid the cords and tried to get away from the big sledge, but
it was no use, his little sledge stuck fast, and on they rushed, faster
than the wind. He shouted aloud, but nobody heard him, and the sledge
tore on through the snow-drifts. Every now and then it gave a bound, as
if they were jumping over hedges and ditches. He was very frightened,
and he wanted to say his prayers, but he could only remember the
multiplication tables.

The snow-flakes grew bigger and bigger, till at last they looked like
big white chickens. All at once they sprang on one side, the big sledge
stopped and the person who drove got up, coat and cap smothered in snow.
It was a tall and upright lady all shining white, the Snow Queen
herself.

'We have come along at a good pace,' she said; 'but it's cold enough to
kill one; creep inside my bearskin coat.'

She took him into the sledge by her, wrapped him in her furs, and he
felt as if he were sinking into a snowdrift.

'Are you still cold?' she asked, and she kissed him on the forehead.
Ugh! it was colder than ice, it went to his very heart, which was
already more than half ice; he felt as if he were dying, but only for a
moment, and then it seemed to have done him good; he no longer felt the
cold.

'My sledge! don't forget my sledge!' He only remembered it now; it was
tied to one of the white chickens which flew along behind them. The Snow
Queen kissed Kay again, and then he forgot all about little Gerda,
Grandmother, and all the others at home.

'Now I mustn't kiss you any more,' she said, 'or I should kiss you to
death!'

Kay looked at her, she was so pretty; a cleverer, more beautiful face
could hardly be imagined. She did not seem to be made of ice now, as she
was outside the window when she waved her hand to him. In his eyes she
was quite perfect, and he was not a bit afraid of her; he told her that
he could do mental arithmetic, as far as fractions, and that he knew the
number of square miles and the number of inhabitants of the country. She
always smiled at him, and he then thought that he surely did not know
enough, and he looked up into the wide expanse of heaven, into which
they rose higher and higher as she flew with him on a dark cloud, while
the storm surged around them, the wind ringing in their ears like
well-known old songs.

They flew over woods and lakes, over oceans and islands; the cold wind
whistled down below them, the wolves howled, the black crows flew
screaming over the sparkling snow, but up above, the moon shone bright
and clear--and Kay looked at it all the long, long winter nights; in the
day he slept at the Snow Queen's feet.

STORY THREE

THE GARDEN OF THE WOMAN LEARNED IN MAGIC

[Illustration: _Then an old, old woman came out of the house; she was
leaning upon a big, hooked stick, and she wore a big sun hat, which was
covered with beautiful painted flowers._]

But how was little Gerda getting on all this long time since Kay left
her? Where could he be? Nobody knew, nobody could say anything about
him. All that the other boys knew was, that they had seen him tie his
little sledge to a splendid big one which drove away down the street and
out of the town gates. Nobody knew where he was, and many tears were
shed; little Gerda cried long and bitterly. At last, people said he was
dead; he must have fallen into the river which ran close by the town.
Oh, what long, dark, winter days those were!

At last the spring came and the sunshine.

'Kay is dead and gone,' said little Gerda.

'I don't believe it,' said the sunshine.

'He is dead and gone,' she said to the swallows.

'We don't believe it,' said the swallows; and at last little Gerda did
not believe it either.

'I will put on my new red shoes,' she said one morning; 'those Kay never
saw; and then I will go down to the river and ask it about him!'

It was very early in the morning; she kissed the old grandmother, who
was still asleep, put on the red shoes, and went quite alone, out by the
gate to the river.

'Is it true that you have taken my little playfellow? I will give you my
red shoes if you will bring him back to me again.'

She thought the little ripples nodded in such a curious way, so she took
off her red shoes, her most cherished possessions, and threw them both
into the river. They fell close by the shore, and were carried straight
back to her by the little wavelets; it seemed as if the river would not
accept her offering, as it had not taken little Kay.

She only thought she had not thrown them far enough; so she climbed into
a boat which lay among the rushes, then she went right out to the
further end of it, and threw the shoes into the water again. But the
boat was loose, and her movements started it off, and it floated away
from the shore: she felt it moving and tried to get out, but before she
reached the other end the boat was more than a yard from the shore, and
was floating away quite quickly.

Little Gerda was terribly frightened, and began to cry, but nobody heard
her except the sparrows, and they could not carry her ashore, but they
flew alongside twittering, as if to cheer her, 'We are here, we are
here.' The boat floated rapidly away with the current; little Gerda sat
quite still with only her stockings on; her little red shoes floated
behind, but they could not catch up the boat, which drifted away faster
and faster.

The banks on both sides were very pretty with beautiful flowers, fine
old trees, and slopes dotted with sheep and cattle, but not a single
person.

'Perhaps the river is taking me to little Kay,' thought Gerda, and that
cheered her; she sat up and looked at the beautiful green banks for
hours.

Then they came to a big cherry garden; there was a little house in
it, with curious blue and red windows, it had a thatched roof, and two
wooden soldiers stood outside, who presented arms as she sailed past.
Gerda called out to them; she thought they were alive, but of course
they did not answer; she was quite close to them, for the current drove
the boat close to the bank. Gerda called out again, louder than before,
and then an old, old woman came out of the house; she was leaning upon a
big, hooked stick, and she wore a big sun hat, which was covered with
beautiful painted flowers.

'You poor little child,' said the old woman, 'how ever were you driven
out on this big, strong river into the wide, wide world alone?' Then she
walked right into the water, and caught hold of the boat with her hooked
stick; she drew it ashore, and lifted little Gerda out.

Gerda was delighted to be on dry land again, but she was a little bit
frightened of the strange old woman.

'Come, tell me who you are, and how you got here,' said she.

When Gerda had told her the whole story and asked her if she had seen
Kay, the woman said she had not seen him, but that she expected him.
Gerda must not be sad, she was to come and taste her cherries and see
her flowers, which were more beautiful than any picture-book; each one
had a story to tell. Then she took Gerda by the hand, they went into the
little house, and the old woman locked the door.

The windows were very high up, and they were red, blue, and yellow;
they threw a very curious light into the room. On the table were
quantities of the most delicious cherries, of which Gerda had leave to
eat as many as ever she liked. While she was eating, the old woman
combed her hair with a golden comb, so that the hair curled, and shone
like gold round the pretty little face, which was as sweet as a rose.

'I have long wanted a little girl like you!' said the old woman. 'You
will see how well we shall get on together.' While she combed her hair
Gerda had forgotten all about Kay, for the old woman was learned in the
magic art; but she was not a bad witch, she only cast spells over people
for a little amusement, and she wanted to keep Gerda. She therefore went
into the garden and waved her hooked stick over all the rose-bushes, and
however beautifully they were flowering, all sank down into the rich
black earth without leaving a trace behind them. The old woman was
afraid that if Gerda saw the roses she would be reminded of Kay, and
would want to run away. Then she took Gerda into the flower garden. What
a delicious scent there was! and every imaginable flower for every
season was in that lovely garden; no picture-book could be brighter or
more beautiful. Gerda jumped for joy and played till the sun went down
behind the tall cherry trees. Then she was put into a lovely bed with
rose-coloured silken coverings stuffed with violets; she slept and
dreamt as lovely dreams as any queen on her wedding day.

The next day she played with the flowers in the garden again--and many
days passed in the same way. Gerda knew every flower, but however many
there were, she always thought there was one missing, but which it was
she did not know.

One day she was sitting looking at the old woman's sun hat with its
painted flowers, and the very prettiest one of them all was a rose. The
old woman had forgotten her hat when she charmed the others away. This
is the consequence of being absent-minded.

'What!' said Gerda, 'are there no roses here?' and she sprang in among
the flower-beds and sought, but in vain! Her hot tears fell on the very
places where the roses used to be; when the warm drops moistened the
earth the rose-trees shot up again, just as full of bloom as when they
sank. Gerda embraced the roses and kissed them, and then she thought of
the lovely roses at home, and this brought the thought of little Kay.

'Oh, how I have been delayed,' said the little girl, 'I ought to have
been looking for Kay! Don't you know where he is?' she asked the roses.
'Do you think he is dead and gone?'

'He is not dead,' said the roses. 'For we have been down underground,
you know, and all the dead people are there, but Kay is not among them.'

'Oh, thank you!' said little Gerda, and then she went to the other
flowers and looked into their cups and said, 'Do you know where Kay is?'

But each flower stood in the sun and dreamt its own dreams. Little Gerda
heard many of these, but never anything about Kay.

And what said the Tiger lilies?

'Do you hear the drum? rub-a-dub, it has only two notes, rub-a-dub,
always the same. The wailing of women and the cry of the preacher. The
Hindu woman in her long red garment stands on the pile, while the flames
surround her and her dead husband. But the woman is only thinking of the
living man in the circle round, whose eyes burn with a fiercer fire than
that of the flames which consume the body. Do the flames of the heart
die in the fire?'

'I understand nothing about that,' said little Gerda.

'That is my story,' said the Tiger lily.

'What does the convolvulus say?'

'An old castle is perched high over a narrow mountain path, it is
closely covered with ivy, almost hiding the old red walls, and creeping
up leaf upon leaf right round the balcony where stands a beautiful
maiden. She bends over the balustrade and looks eagerly up the road. No
rose on its stem is fresher than she; no apple blossom wafted by the
wind moves more lightly. Her silken robes rustle softly as she bends
over and says, 'Will he never come?''

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