Hans Christian Andersen's Fairy Tales: Twenty Tales Illustrated by Harry Clarke Read online

  One night, as Thumbelina lay in her pretty bed, an old toad crept into the kitchen through a broken window pane. The toad was big, damp and very ugly. It hopped straight down onto the table where Thumbelina lay sleeping under her rose leaf.

  “She would make a beautiful wife for my son,” said the toad, and she took the walnut shell in which Thumbelina was sleeping and hopped with it through the window and down into the garden.

  At the bottom of the garden there was a stream. The toad and her son lived at the edges of the water where the mud was swampy and soft. The son was very ugly and looked just like his mother. “Croak! Croak! Brek-tek-tek!” was all he could say when he saw the beautiful Thumbelina in her delicate walnut shell.

  “Don’t speak too loud or you’ll wake her up,” said the old toad. “She’s as light as a swan’s feather and she might run away, so we’ll put her out in the stream on one of the big water-lily leaves. She’s so small that to her it will seem like an island. Meanwhile, we’ll decorate the house under the marsh that the two of you will live in.”

  Out in the stream there were lots of water-lilies with big green leaves that looked like they were floating on the water. The leaf furthest from the bank was the biggest of all and the old toad swam out and laid Thumbelina and the walnut shell on it. Thumbelina woke up early in the morning and when she saw where she was she began to cry. She was surrounded on all sides by deep water. The old toad was decorating a room for her new daughter-in-law with rushes and yellow weeds. When she had finished she swam out with her ugly son to the big green leaf on which Thumbelina sat. They wanted to take her pretty bed and put it in the bridal room before they took Thumbelina there. The old toad bowed before Thumbelina and said, “Here is my son; he will be your husband and you will live happily together in the marsh.”

  “Croak! Croak! Brek-tek-tek!” was all the son could say.

  Then they took the little bed and swam away with it. Thumbelina sat all alone on the green leaf and wept. She did not want to live with the old toad and marry her ugly son. The small fish swimming in the water below had seen the old toad and heard what she had said. They stretched their heads up out of the water to see Thumbelina. When they saw how pretty she was they felt sorry for her having to marry the ugly toad. They gathered around the green stalk of the leaf, which held it in place in the middle of the stream, and gnawed at it with their teeth until it broke. The leaf swam away down the stream, taking Thumbelina far away from the toad.

  Thumbelina sailed past many cities. Along the way all the little birds in the bushes saw her and said, “What a beautiful girl!” The leaf floated further and further down the stream until Thumbelina found herself in a new country.

  A graceful white butterfly had been following her all the way, and finally it landed on the leaf. It liked Thumbelina and she was pleased to have it as a friend. She was happy to be far away from the toad and to be floating along the peaceful stream where the sun shone on the water and made it glisten like gold. She took off her stocking and tied one end around the end of the leaf. Then she tied the other end around the butterfly’s middle. The butterfly flapped its wings so that the leaf glided much faster down the stream.

  Suddenly, a huge beetle flew overhead and spotted Thumbelina. He flew down and clasped his claws around her waist, before flying off with her up into a tree. The green leaf went swimming off down the stream, taking the butterfly with it.

  Thumbelina was terrified as the beetle soared up into the air. She was also worried about the poor white butterfly, which would starve if it could not free itself from the leaf. But the beetle didn’t care. He landed on the biggest leaf of the tree, gave Thumbelina some sweet flowers to eat and told her that she was very pretty, even though she looked nothing like a beetle. Later, all the beetles living in the tree came to look at Thumbelina. “She’s only got two legs! How horrible she is!” said one of the beetles.

  “She hasn’t got any feelers!” cried another.

  “Her waist is too small. She looks like a human – how ugly!” said all the lady beetles.

  Thumbelina was very pretty – even the beetle that had flown off with her could see that. But when all the others said she was ugly he started to believe it. The beetle told Thumbelina that he wanted nothing more to do with her and then he flew her down from the tree and left her all alone on a daisy. Thumbelina wept because she thought she was too ugly even for the beetles, which was a shame because she was the loveliest girl you could imagine and was as pretty and delicate as a rose leaf.

  Thumbelina spent the whole summer living alone in the great wood. She wove herself a bed made from blades of grass and hung it up beneath a shamrock to keep off the rain. She ate the honey from inside the nearby flowers and she drank the morning dew from the leaves. Summer and autumn came and went, and soon it was winter. It was a long, cold winter and all the birds which usually sang softly in the trees flew away. The trees and flowers shed their leaves and the shamrock under which Thumbelina lived shrivelled up until it was just a withered yellow stalk. Thumbelina’s clothes were torn and she was so cold that she nearly froze. One day, it started to gently snow, but because Thumbelina was so frail and delicate, and only an inch high, every snowflake that fell on her was like a shovel of snow hitting her. She wrapped herself in a dry leaf, but it tore in half and didn’t keep her warm.

  Close to the wood there was a huge cornfield. The corn had been cut short many months before so all that was left were stumpy stalks poking out of the frozen ground. But for Thumbelina the stalks were like a great forest. She wandered through it, trembling with cold, until she reached the door of a field mouse. The field mouse’s home was warm and comfortable. It had a whole room filled with corn, a wonderful kitchen and larder full of food. Poor Thumbelina stood at the door like a beggar and asked for a little bit of barleycorn because she hadn’t eaten a single morsel for two days.

  “You poor creature,” said the field mouse, “come into my warm home and I’ll make us both some dinner.” The field mouse was kind-hearted and so she shared her food with Thumbelina.

  The field mouse liked Thumbelina and said, “You can stay with me this winter if you would like to, as long as you keep the house clean and tidy and tell me lots of stories.”

  So Thumbelina agreed to stay and they had a wonderful evening together.

  “SHE TOOK HER GIRDLE AND BOUND ONE END OF IT ROUND THE BUTTERFLY”

  “Soon we’re going to have a visitor,” said the field mouse the next day. “My neighbour, the mole, visits me once a week. He is richer than I am, has a bigger house and has fur like a beautiful black velvet cloak. If you married him you would never be hungry or cold again, so remember to tell him the most charming stories you know.”

  So the mole visited every week. Each time, the field mouse told Thumbelina how rich and clever he was, how his house was twenty times bigger than hers, and that he did not like the sun or flowers because he had never seen them. But Thumbelina didn’t care about the mole’s wealth and she didn’t want to marry him.

  Every time the mole visited, Thumbelina had to sing. She sang “Ladybird, Fly Away” and “When the Parson Goes into the Field”, and her voice was so beautiful that the mole fell in love with her, though he was a quiet man and he did not tell her.

  The week before, the mole had dug a long tunnel through the earth from his house to field mouse’s door. He told Thumbelina and the field mouse that they could walk in the tunnel as often as they liked. The mole warned them that inside there was a dead bird, but that they need not be frightened of it – it had died only a short time before and had been buried there.

  The mole took a piece of rotting wood and lit it to make a torch, which he carried in his mouth while he led them down the tunnel. When they reached the bird, the mole used his big nose to make a hole in the earth so that sunlight shone down into the tunnel. In the middle of the tunnel lay a dead swallow. His beautiful wings were pressed up close to his side and his head was tucked beneath his feathers. He looked a
s though he had died from the cold. Thumbelina was sad; she loved all the birds that sung and twittered their pretty songs during the summer. But the mole kicked the swallow with his crooked legs and said, “He can’t sing any more! It must be miserable to be a bird – they have nothing except their songs and they starve when winter comes. I’m glad none of my children will grow up to be birds.”

  “Yes, you’re right. You are a clever man,” observed the field mouse. “What good is a song when the winter comes? Birds just starve and freeze.”

  Thumbelina stayed silent, but when the others’ backs were turned she knelt down, moved aside the feathers covering the bird’s head and kissed him gently.

  “Maybe it was this bird who sang such sweet songs during the summer,” she thought. “How happy his songs made me, the poor beautiful bird!”

  The mole closed up the hole to stop the daylight shining in and then he guided the ladies home. That night, Thumbelina could not sleep. She got out of bed and wove a large beautiful blanket out of hay, which she carried down the tunnel and spread over the dead swallow. She had brought some flowers with her from the field mouse’s room and she laid down the soft petals all around the bird so that he was lying on soft ground.

  “Farewell, pretty bird!” she said softly. “Farewell and thank you for your beautiful songs in the summer, when the trees were green and the warm sun shone on us.” With that, she laid the bird’s head upon her heart. Suddenly, as if by magic, the bird came alive. He had not been dead, but had been lying there so cold that he could not move. Now that Thumbelina had warmed him, he had awoken from his cold slumber and come back to life.

  In the autumn, all the swallows fly away to warm countries. But if a bird is late it becomes so cold that it falls to the ground, as if it were dead. It lies forever where it fell and before long it is buried in snow.

  Thumbelina was so startled that she jumped. The bird was much larger than her! But she was brave and she laid the soft petals closer to the poor bird. She brought a leaf, which she had used as a blanket on her bed, and laid it over the bird’s head.

  The next night she crept down the tunnel again. Now the bird was wide awake, but he was so weak that he could only open his eyes to look at Thumbelina for a moment. “Thank you for warming me, you pretty child,” he said. “Soon I will be strong enough to fly around outside in the warm sunshine.”

  “Oh no,” she said, “it’s freezing cold outside and the ground is covered in snow. Stay here in your warm bed and I will look after you.”

  Thumbelina brought the swallow a flower petal filled with water to drink. He told her how he had torn one of his wings on a thorn bush and so had not been able to fly as fast as the other swallows, which had flown away to warm countries for the winter. Eventually, he had fallen to the ground, but that was the last he could remember. He had no idea how he had ended up in the mole’s tunnel.

  The whole winter long, the swallow stayed in the tunnel while Thumbelina nursed him back to health. Neither the field mouse nor the mole cared because they did not like the poor swallow. Soon spring came and the sun warmed the earth again. Thumbelina opened up the hole in the ceiling of the tunnel so that the sun could shine its golden warmth onto the swallow. He said farewell and asked Thumbelina to go with him on his journey; she could sit on his back and they would fly far away into the green wood. But Thumbelina knew that the field mouse would be sad without her, so she decided to stay.

  “I’m afraid I can’t, dear swallow,” said Thumbelina.

  “Farewell, farewell, you kind girl!” said the swallow, and he flew out into the sunshine. Thumbelina watched him fly away and tears welled in her eyes. She was very fond of the swallow and would miss him dearly.

  “Tweet-weet! Tweet-weet!” sang the swallow as he flew into the forest.

  Thumbelina wished she could go out into the warm sunshine, but the corn in the neighbouring field had once again grown into a great wood and she was only an inch high.

  “The mole has proposed and you are now betrothed, Thumbelina,” said the field mouse that evening. “A wealthy man proposing to a poor child like you – isn’t that wonderful? You must start making your outfit! You’ll need both woollen and linen outfits, for you will need a large wardrobe if you are going to be the mole’s wife.”

  So Thumbelina had to turn the spindle and the mole hired four spiders to weave for her day and night. He visited every evening and each time he told her that when the summer had ended, and the sun no longer burned the ground as hard as stone, they would get married. But Thumbelina was not happy. She found the mole tiresome and she wished that she could see the swallow again. Every morning when the sun rose, and every evening when it went down again, Thumbelina crept out the door and looked up at the sky. When the wind blew, the corn in the field was parted so Thumbelina could glimpse the blue sky and could see how bright and beautiful it was outside. But the swallow did not come back; he had flown far away into the green forest. When autumn arrived, Thumbelina had her outfits ready.

  “In four weeks you’ll be married,” said the field mouse.

  But Thumbelina wept and said that she would not marry the mole.

  “SHE SHOULD BE QUEEN OF ALL THE FLOWERS”

  “Nonsense,” said the field mouse, “don’t be stubborn, or I’ll bite you with my white teeth. He is a fine man and you will marry him. Even the queen does not have fur as black and velvety as his, and his cupboards and cellars are full. You should be thankful for your good fortune.”

  Soon it was the day of the wedding. The mole had come to fetch Thumbelina. She was to live with him deep in the earth and never come out into the warm sunshine that he hated so much. Poor Thumbelina was full of sorrow. At least at the field mouse’s home she had been able to see the sunshine from the doorway, but now she must say farewell to it forever.

  “Farewell, bright sun!” she said, stretching her arms out towards it. She walked a little way from the house, for now the corn had been harvested and only the stumpy stalks were left in the field. “Farewell!” she repeated as she stroked a little red flower that grew there. “Say hello to the swallow for me, if you see him.”

  “Tweet-weet! Tweet-weet!” a voice suddenly sounded above her head. Thumbelina looked up; it was the swallow! When he saw her he was very glad. Thumbelina told him how she had to marry the ugly mole and that she must live deep under the earth where the sun never shone. Then she wept and wept.

  “Winter is coming now,” said the swallow, “and I am going to fly to the warm countries. Will you come with me? You can sit on my back and we’ll fly over the mountains, far away from the ugly mole and his dark rooms. It is summer there and there are lots of lovely flowers. Fly with me Thumbelina, so I can repay you for saving my life when I lay frozen in that dark, earthy tunnel.”

  “Yes, I will go with you!” said Thumbelina, and she climbed onto the swallow’s back. She put her feet on his outstretched wings and tied her belt to one of his strongest feathers. Then the swallow soared up into the sky. He flew above the forest and over the sea and high up over great mountains where the snow always lies.

  Thumbelina felt cold so she snuggled beneath his warm feathers until only her head was left uncovered, and then she admired all the beauty beneath her.

  Finally, they arrived in the warm countries. The sun shone far brighter than it does here and the sky seemed twice as high. On all the hedges there grew beautiful blue and green grapes, and oranges and lemons hung in the woods. The air smelled sweet and soft, and children played with the butterflies in the meadows. But the swallow flew further still and the land became even more beautiful. Next to a glistening blue lake, beneath glorious green trees, there stood an ancient palace of dazzling white marble. Vines spiralled around the marble pillars and on top of the pillars there were many nests. The swallow lived in one of these nests with his family.

  “This is my house,” said the swallow, “but you shouldn’t live here. It’s not finished and you wouldn’t be happy in it. Choose one of the sp
lendid flowers that grow nearby and I will put you on it. Then you can have everything the way you want it to be.”

  “Wonderful!” cried Thumbelina, and she clapped her hands with joy.

  On the ground there lay a great marble pillar that had fallen and broken into three pieces, and between the pieces grew the most beautiful white flowers. The swallow flew down with Thumbelina and she sat upon one of the broad green leaves. But what a surprise Thumbelina had! In the middle of the flower sat a little man, as white and transparent as if he had been made of glass. He wore a gold crown on his head and he had bright white wings on his shoulders. He was the angel of the flower and he was no bigger than Thumbelina. In each flower there lived a little man or woman, but this man was king of them all.

  “How beautiful he is!” gasped Thumbelina.

  The king was very frightened of the swallow because he was such a gigantic creature compared to him. But when he saw Thumbelina he was delighted; she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. He took off his crown, placed it on her head and asked her name. Then he asked if she would be his wife and be queen of all the flowers. The king was very different to the ugly toad and the mole. He was charming and kind, and so Thumbelina said, “Yes”. Out of every flower came a man or woman and each one was a delight to behold. Each brought Thumbelina a present. The best gift was a pair of beautiful wings, which had belonged to a great white fly. They were fastened to Thumbelina’s back so that she could fly from flower to flower. Everyone rejoiced and the swallow sat above them in his nest. He had been asked to sing the marriage song, and when the wedding day came he sang as well as he could. But in his heart he was sad, for he was so fond of Thumbelina that he did not want to leave her when it was time for him to fly back to the green wood.

  “You shall no longer be called Thumbelina,” said the king on the wedding day, “you are too beautiful for it. From now on, we will call you Maia.”