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

  “You will marry him!” said the nodding man. “He is carved of the finest mahogany and he has a whole cupboard full of silver plates.”

  “I refuse to go to that dark cupboard!” said the shepherdess. “I’ve heard that he has eleven porcelain wives in there already!”

  “Then you will be the twelfth!” cried the nodding man. “Tonight, as soon as the old cupboard starts to rattle, you will be married.”

  With that, he nodded his head and fell asleep. The little shepherdess wept and looked at her beloved chimney-sweeper.

  “We can’t stay here!” she cried. “Run away with me to the wide world outside!”

  “I’ll do whatever you want,” replied the chimney-sweeper. “Let’s start right away. I can earn enough to support us by sweeping chimneys.”

  “But first we need to get down from the table,” she said. “I won’t be happy until we’re out in the wide world.”

  The chimney-sweeper showed her how to get down from the table by using the carved corners and foliage as steps. He also got his ladder to help her, and soon they were on the floor. But when they looked up at the cupboard they saw that there was a great commotion. All the carved stags were stretching their heads out and rearing up their antlers. Mr Billygoat-Legs-Lieutenant-and-Major-General-War-Commander-Sergeant leapt into the air and called to the nodding man, “They’re running away! They’re running away!”

  The chimney-sweeper and the shepherdess were so frightened that they jumped into a drawer. Inside, there were three or four incomplete packs of cards and a puppet show theatre where they staged plays. All the ladies, diamonds, clubs, hearts and spades sat in the first row fanning themselves while the jacks stood behind them. The play was about two people who wanted to marry each other, but were not allowed to. The shepherdess wept because it was just like her and the chimney-sweeper.

  “I can’t bear it,” she said. “I have to go outside.”

  They jumped back down onto the floor. But when they looked up they saw that the nodding man was awake – and he was shaking with rage.

  “The nodding man is coming!” cried the little shepherdess, and she was so startled that she fell over.

  “I have an idea,” said the chimney-sweeper. “Why don’t we sneak into the potpourri vase? Then we can lie on a bed of roses and lavender, and we’ll throw salt at the nodding man if he comes anywhere near us.”

  “That won’t help,” she replied. “The nodding man and the potpourri vase used to be engaged and I know she still loves him. We’ll have to go out into the wide world.”

  “Are you really brave enough to go out into the wide world with me?” asked the chimney-sweeper. “Have you thought about how wide it is, and how we can never come back once we’ve gone?”

  I have,” she replied.

  The chimney-sweeper looked at her fondly and said, “Let’s go up through the chimney. We’ll creep into the stove, walk through the iron box and crawl along the pipe. Then we can climb up the chimney, so high that they’ll never catch us. At the top there’s a hole that leads to the wide world.”

  “It looks very dark in there,” she said. But she went with him into the dark stove, through the iron box and along the pipe.

  “Now we’re in the chimney,” he said. “Look, you can see the beautiful stars shining in the sky.”

  A glittering star shone down on them as if to light the way. They clambered up the chimney. It was very steep, but the chimneysweeper held the shepherdess and helped her by showing her the best places to rest her porcelain feet. At last, they reached the edge of the chimney. They were extremely tired so they sat and rested for a while.

  All the stars in the night sky shone above them, and they could see all the roofs of the town below. They looked far around them at the world. But the poor shepherdess had not realised that the world would be this wide. She leant against the chimney-sweeper and wept so hard that the gold ran off her skirt.

  “It’s too wide!” she cried. “I can’t bear it! I wish I was back on the table. I’ll never be happy until I’m back there. You’ve brought me out into the wide world and if you really love me you’ll take me home again.”

  The chimney-sweeper reminded her about the nodding man and Mr Billygoat-Legs-Lieutenant-and-Major-General-War-Commander-Sergeant, but the shepherdess wept and kissed him until he gave in, even though it was not a good idea.

  “ ‘HAVE YOU REALLY COURAGE TO GO INTO THE WIDE WORLD WITH ME?’ ASKED THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER”

  So they climbed back down the chimney, crawled along the pipe and walked through the iron box until finally they stood in the dark stove. They stopped to listen to what was happening in the room. It was very quiet and when they looked through the stove door they saw why; the nodding man lay broken into three pieces on the floor and his head had rolled all the way into the corner of the room. He must have fallen from the table. Mr Billygoat-Legs-Lieutenant-and-Major-General-War-Commander-Sergeant was looking down at him.

  “How terrible!” said the little shepherdess. “My grandfather has broken into three pieces and it’s our fault! I’ll never forgive myself!” She wrung her hands with worry.

  “Don’t worry – he can be fixed,” said the chimney-sweeper. “If they glue him back together and put a rivet in his neck he’ll be as good as new. He’ll be back to being cruel to us in no time.”

  “Do you really think so?” she cried, hopefully.

  They climbed back onto the table where they used to stand.

  “I can’t believe we’re back here,” said the chimney-sweeper. “We might as well just have stayed here all along.”

  But the shepherdess was not listening to him. “If only my grandfather were fixed,” she said. “Is it expensive?”

  It was not expensive and soon the nodding man was fixed. The family glued him back together and put a large rivet in his neck. He was as good as new, except that he could no longer nod.

  “Ever since you broke into pieces you seem to have become too proud to let me marry the shepherdess,” said Mr Billygoat-Legs-Lieutenant-and-Major-General-War-Commander-Sergeant one day. “I don’t think you have any reason to look down on someone as fine and wealthy as me! Am I allowed to marry her or not?”

  The shepherdess and the chimney-sweeper looked desperately at the nodding man, fearing that he would nod. But, try as he might, the nodding man could not move his head and he was too embarrassed to say anything. So the porcelain shepherdess and chimney-sweeper stayed together and loved each other until they broke.

  THE FIR TREE

  There was once a pretty little fir tree growing in a clearing in the middle of a forest. The warm sun shone down on it and fresh mountain breezes blew softly through its branches. The bigger trees stood around it and when the children came to gather wild berries they always sat nearby, saying, “What a sweet little fir tree!”

  But the little fir tree took no notice of all this attention as he was in such a great hurry to grow bigger.

  “How I wish I was as tall as the other trees!” it sighed. “The birds would build nests in my branches and I could see out over the whole world.”

  In winter the hares and rabbits jumped over the little tree, which made it feel even smaller. But each year it grew a little bit more until one winter it had grown so tall that the hares and rabbits had to run around it.

  “Growing up to be big and tall is all that matters in this world,” thought the little tree.

  Every autumn the woodcutters came and chopped down the tallest trees. They fell with a terrible crash that made the little fir tree shudder. When their branches had been cut off, the trees were loaded onto carts and hauled away.

  In spring, when the swallows and storks returned to the forest, the little fir tree would ask them, “Do you know what happened to the big trees? Have you seen them?”

  “I think I did,” said a stork. “As I flew here from Egypt, I met some new ships with shining wooden masts. I am sure they were your friends.”

  “Just wait until I�
��m big and tall enough to cross the sea!” said the little fir tree.

  “Don’t hurry to grow. Enjoy your youth while it lasts,” the sunbeams whispered softly. The breezes kissed the tree and the dew fell like tears on its branches.

  As Christmas drew near, the woodcutters felled some of the younger trees and took them away in a cart. This made the little fir tree more restless than ever.

  “Where can they be going?” he said to himself. “Those trees are smaller than me. And why have their branches not been cut off?”

  “We know!” twittered the sparrows. “We have peeped in through the windows in the town and seen the trees dressed up with golden apples and coloured sweets. Hundreds of candles light up their branches and they look very beautiful.”

  “Oh, I wonder if I will be honoured like that!” exclaimed the fir tree. “And I wonder what happens next? There must be even bigger honours to follow!”

  “Enjoy what we bring,” whispered the breezes and the sunbeams. “Enjoy your bright young days.” But the tree would not enjoy itself and only wanted to grow.

  One Christmas, the woodcutters came and cut down the fir tree, saying that it was the most beautiful in the forest. When the axe cut into its trunk, the tree fell with a groan and felt a sudden pang of sadness at leaving its familiar forest home.

  It bumped along in the cart with the other trees on the journey to the town. At last they were unpacked in a courtyard and as the fir tree leaned against a wall it heard a voice say, “That one is a beauty. We’ll take it.”

  Two servants carried the fir tree into a large, comfortable room. There was a rocking-horse standing on the polished floor, picture-books lying on the tables and toys on the shelves. The tree shook with fear as it was placed in a barrel of sand standing on a beautiful carpet.

  Servants and rich young ladies began to decorate the tree. From the branches they hung coloured sweets, golden apples, walnuts and little toys. A hundred red, white and blue candles were clipped to the branches and dolls were placed under the tree. Then a sparkling golden star was placed right on top.

  “If only evening would come, so the candles can be lit!” thought the tree impatiently. “Then perhaps the other trees from the forest will come and admire me, and the sparrows will peep through the window. Perhaps I will take root here and stay like this for ever! How fine!”

  At last, evening came and the candles were lit. The tree looked beautiful but it was so anxious not to drop any of its ornaments that it trembled and one of the branches caught fire. After the flame was put out, the frightened tree tried hard not to shake.

  Suddenly the doors flew open and a troop of children rushed into the room towards the tree. They shrieked with delight and danced around it.

  “What will happen next?” thought the tree.

  As each candle burned down, it was put out, and when the last little flame had gone, each child took a present. The tree was shaken and grabbed and its branches cracked painfully! The children danced around with their toys and sweets.

  “A story! We want a story!” they cried, dragging a kind-looking man to a chair by the tree. He sat down, saying, “Perhaps the tree would like to hear the story too. What shall it be? Cinderella or Humpty-Dumpty?”

  “Cinderella!” some cried. “Humpty-Dumpty!” cried the others. Their squabbling voices filled the air and only the fir tree was silent, “Don’t I have a say?” he thought. “After all, I am part of this evening too.”

  In the end, the man told the story of Humpty-Dumpty who, although he fell down the stairs, still won great honours and married a princess.

  “Humpty-Dumpty fell down the stairs but still married a princess! Of course, that is what happens in the wide world,” said the fir tree, who thought it was a true story. “So, if I fell down the stairs I might get a princess too.” The tree felt happy at the thought that next day he would be decorated again with toys, candles and sweets. “Tomorrow, I will not tremble,” he thought. “Tomorrow, I will enjoy my great honour and hear the story of Humpty-Dumpty again.”

  Next morning, when the servants came in, the tree thought, “Now I’m going to be dressed in my finery again.” But instead they dragged him upstairs and flung him on the floor in a dark corner. “What am I doing here?” thought the unhappy tree. And he lay there wondering, waiting for someone to come.

  The days passed and the wintry weather got colder.

  “The ground is too hard for them to plant me,” thought the little tree. “I’m being kept indoors until spring. How kind people are! But I do wish it wasn’t so cold and dark and lonely in here.”

  Suddenly, two little mice crept up and sniffed at the fir tree.

  “Where do you come from, old fir tree?” asked one.

  “Tell us what you have seen in the world – that is, if you’ve been there.”

  “Old! I’m not old!” said the fir tree, and he told the little mice all about the forest, where the warm sun shines, the soft breezes blow and the birds sing.

  “You must have been very happy there, old fir tree!” squeaked the mice.

  “Stop calling me old,” said the fir tree indignantly. “I am not old. I only came from the forest this winter.” Then it told them all about Christmas Eve and the thrill of being dressed with candles and golden apples.

  The next night, the mice came again with four more mice asking the tree to tell the same story. Each time it was told, the more clearly the tree remembered everything and sighed, “Such good times will never come again but if Humpty-Dumpty can fall down the stairs and still marry a princess, perhaps I will meet a princess one day.”

  “Tell us about Humpty-Dumpty!” cried the mice. So the fir tree told the story and the little mice squeaked and jumped with excitement. Next night, more mice came, and on Sunday two rats joined the crowd as well.

  “Is that the only story you know?” asked one rat.

  “Only that one,” said the tree. “I heard it on the happiest evening of my life, although I didn’t know that at the time.”

  “Pah! It’s a stupid story,” said the rat. “Don’t you know anything about cheese or store-cupboards?”

  “No. I’m sorry, I don’t,” replied the tree. The mice and rats left, and the tree lay in the cold and dark with only memories for comfort.

  One day, the servants came and dragged the tree outside.

  “Now I begin my new life,” it thought as it felt the fresh air and warm sunshine. The servants carried the tree into a garden where sweet-smelling roses grew over the walls, trees were in blossom and swallows darted through the air.

  “I shall live happily here!” thought the tree, spreading out its yellow, withered branches. But the servants threw the tree into the nettles and weeds and two little children ran up and jumped on the branches until they cracked.

  “Look what I’ve found sticking to the ugly old fir tree,” said one, and tore off the golden star that had once sparkled and shone so brightly.

  The tree looked at the beautiful garden and remembered its life in the forest, the happy Christmas Eve and the little mice who loved to hear the story of Humpty-Dumpty.

  “It’s all over,” said the old tree. “If only I had realised true happiness when I had it.”

  A servant chopped the fir tree into pieces and carried them into the kitchen. The wood burned fast and the tree’s sighs sounded like gun-shots. The tree was dreaming of a summer’s day or a winter’s night in the forest, of Christmas and of Humpty-Dumpty, the only story he knew. The children came to sit near the fire. The youngest boy clutched the golden star as he gazed into the flames. At last, there was nothing left but a heap of ashes.

  THE SWINEHERD

  There was once a poor prince who ruled a small kingdom. One day, he decided to find himself a wife. There were lots of princesses all over the land who would have been delighted to marry the handsome prince, but he decided to ask the emperor’s daughter.

  The prince’s father had died many years before, and on his grave grew a very beautifu
l rose bush. It only bloomed once every five years, and even then it only produced a single rose. It was the most incredible rose in the land. It was so sweet that anyone who smelt it forgot all their sorrows and worry. The prince also had a nightingale, which could sing all the songs in the world. He decided to give the rosebush and the nightingale to the princess, and so he put them into big silver boxes and sent them to her.

  The emperor demanded that the presents be brought to him in the great hall. The princess was there with her maids and when she saw the presents she clapped her hands with joy.

  “I hope it’s a little kitten!” she said.

  But then out came the rosebush with the beautiful rose.

  “It’s so pretty and very well made!” said the court ladies.

  “It’s more than pretty,” said the emperor, “it is wonderful.”

  But when the princess touched the rose she began to cry.

  “Father,” she said, “it’s not artificial, it’s a natural rose! I don’t like natural things!”

  “Let’s wait until we’ve seen what’s in the other box before we get angry,” said the emperor. Then the nightingale came out and sang so beautifully that for a few moments everyone was speechless.

  “Wonderful!” said the maids.

  “The bird reminds me of the late emperor’s music box,” said an old courtier. “It has the same tone and the same expression.”

  “Yes,” said the emperor and then he wept like a child as he remembered his dead father.

  “I hope it’s not a natural bird!” said the princess.

  “It is a natural bird,” said the messengers who had brought the presents.

  “Then let it fly away,” said the princess, and she wouldn’t even let the prince come to see her.

  But the prince was not disheartened. He disguised himself and knocked on the castle door.