The Complete Fairy Tales Read online

  FIRST ANCHOR BOOKS EDITION, 1983

  Copyright © 1974 by Erik Christian Haugaard

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Anchor Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published in hardcover in the United States by Doubleday in 1974. The Anchor Books edition is published by arrangement with Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc.

  Anchor Books and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Andersen, H. C. (Hans Christian), 1805–1875.

  The complete fairy tales and stories.

  1. Fairy tales—Denmark. 2. Tales—Denmark.

  1. Haugaard, Erik Christian. II. Title.

  PT8116.E5 1983a 839.8′136 83-9975

  eISBN: 978-0-307-77789-8

  www.anchorbooks.com

  v3.1

  This translation is dedicated to the memory

  of Ruth Hill Viguers, who knew that the leather

  outlasts the gilding.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Foreword by Virginia Haviland

  Introduction by Erik Christian Haugaard

  Epigraph

  •1 THE TINDERBOX

  •2 LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS

  •3 THE PRINCESS AND THE PEA

  •4 LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS

  •5 INCHELINA

  •6 THE NAUGHTY BOY

  •7 THE TRAVELING COMPANION

  •8 THE LITTLE MERMAID

  •9 THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES

  •10 THE MAGIC GALOSHES

  •11 THE DAISY

  •12 THE STEADFAST TIN SOLDIER

  •13 THE WILD SWANS

  •14 THE GARDEN OF EDEN

  •15 THE FLYING TRUNK

  •16 THE STORKS

  •17 THE BRONZE PIG

  •18 THE PACT OF FRIENDSHIP

  •19 A ROSE FROM HOMER’S GRAVE

  •20 THE SANDMAN

  •21 THE ROSE ELF

  •22 THE SWINEHERD

  •23 THE BUCKWHEAT

  •24 THE ANGEL

  •25 THE NIGHTINGALE

  •26 THE SWEETHEARTS

  •27 THE UGLY DUCKLING

  •28 THE PINE TREE

  •29 THE SNOW QUEEN

  •30 MOTHER ELDERBERRY

  •31 THE DARNING NEEDLE

  •32 THE BELL

  •33 GRANDMOTHER

  •34 THE HILL OF THE ELVES

  •35 THE RED SHOES

  •36 THE JUMPING COMPETITION

  •37 THE SHEPHERDESS AND THE CHIMNEY SWEEP

  •38 HOLGER THE DANE

  •39 THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL

  •40 FROM THE RAMPARTS OF THE CITADEL

  •41 FROM A WINDOW IN VARTOV

  •42 THE OLD STREET LAMP

  •43 THE NEIGHBORS

  •44 LITTLE TUCK

  •45 THE SHADOW

  •46 THE OLD HOUSE

  •47 A DROP OF WATER

  •48 THE HAPPY FAMILY

  •49 THE STORY OF A MOTHER

  •50 THE COLLAR

  •51 THE FLAX

  •52 THE BIRD PHOENIX

  •53 A STORY

  •54 THE SILENT ALBUM

  •55 THE OLD GRAVESTONE

  •56 THERE IS A DIFFERENCE

  •57 THE WORLD’S MOST BEAUTIFUL ROSE

  •58 THE YEAR’S STORY

  •59 ON THE LAST DAY

  •60 IT IS PERFECTLY TRUE!

  •61 THE SWANS’ NEST

  •62 A HAPPY DISPOSITION

  •63 GRIEF

  •64 EVERYTHING IN ITS RIGHT PLACE

  •65 THE PIXY AND THE GROCER

  •66 THE MILLENNIUM

  •67 UNDER THE WILLOW TREE

  •68 FIVE PEAS FROM THE SAME POD

  •69 A LEAF FROM HEAVEN

  •70 SHE WAS NO GOOD

  •71 THE LAST PEARL

  •72 THE TWO MAIDENS

  •73 THE UTTERMOST PARTS OF THE SEA

  •74 THE PIGGY BANK

  •75 IB AND LITTLE CHRISTINA

  •76 CLOD HANS

  •77 THE THORNY PATH

  •78 THE SERVANT

  •79 THE BOTTLE

  •80 THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE

  •81 HOW TO COOK SOUP UPON A SAUSAGE PIN

  •82 THE PEPPERMAN’S NIGHTCAP

  •83 “SOMETHING”

  •84 THE OLD OAK TREE’S LAST DREAM

  •85 THE TALISMAN

  •86 THE BOG KING’S DAUGHTER

  •87 THE WINNERS

  •88 THE BELL DEEP

  •89 THE EVIL KING

  •90 WHAT THE WIND TOLD ABOUT VALDEMAR DAAE AND HIS DAUGHTERS

  •91 THE GIRL WHO STEPPED ON BREAD

  •92 THE WATCHMAN OF THE TOWER

  •93 ANNE LISBETH

  •94 CHILDREN’S PRATTLE

  •95 A STRING OF PEARLS

  •96 THE PEN AND THE INKWELL

  •97 THE DEAD CHILD

  •98 THE COCK AND THE WEATHERCOCK

  •99 “LOVELY”

  •100 A STORY FROM THE DUNES

  •101 THE PUPPETEER

  •102 THE TWO BROTHERS

  •103 THE OLD CHURCH BELL

  •104 THE TWELVE PASSENGERS

  •105 THE DUNG BEETLE

  •106 WHAT FATHER DOES IS ALWAYS RIGHT

  •107 THE SNOWMAN

  •108 IN THE DUCKYARD

  •109 THE MUSE OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY

  •110 THE ICE MAIDEN

  •111 THE BUTTERFLY

  •112 PSYCHE

  •113 THE SNAIL AND THE ROSEBUSH

  •114 “THE WILL-O’-THE-WISPS ARE IN TOWN,” SAID THE BOG WITCH

  •115 THE WINDMILL

  •116 THE SILVER SHILLING

  •117 THE BISHOP OF BØRGLUM CLOISTER AND HIS KINSMEN

  •118 IN THE CHILDREN’S ROOM

  •119 THE GOLDEN TREASURE

  •120 HOW THE STORM CHANGED THE SIGNS

  •121 THE TEAPOT

  •122 THE SONGBIRD OF THE PEOPLE

  •123 THE LITTLE GREEN ONES

  •124 THE PIXY AND THE GARDENER’S WIFE

  •125 PEITER, PETER, AND PEER

  •126 HIDDEN BUT NOT FORGOTTEN

  •127 THE JANITOR’S SON

  •128 MOVING DAY

  •129 THE SNOWDROP

  •130 AUNTIE

  •131 THE TOAD

  •132 GODFATHER’S PICTURE BOOK

  •133 THE RAGS

  •134 THE TWO ISLANDS

  •135 WHO WAS THE HAPPIEST?

  •136 THE WOOD NYMPH

  •137 THE FAMILY OF HEN-GRETHE

  •138 THE ADVENTURES OF A THISTLE

  •139 A QUESTION OF IMAGINATION

  •140 LUCK CAN BE FOUND IN A STICK

  •141 THE COMET

  •142 THE DAYS OF THE WEEK

  •143 THE SUNSHINE’S STORY

  •144 GREAT-GRANDFATHER

  •145 THE CANDLES

  •146 THE MOST INCREDIBLE

  •147 WHAT THE WHOLE FAMILY SAID

  •148 “DANCE, DANCE, DOLLY MINE!”

  •149 “IT IS YOU THE FABLE IS ABOUT”

  •150 THE GREAT SEA SERPENT

  •151 THE GARDENER AND HIS MASTER

  •152 THE PROFESSOR AND THE FLEA

  •153 THE STORY OLD JOHANNA TOLD

  •154 THE FRONT DOOR KEY

  •155 THE CRIPPLE

  •156 AUNTI
E TOOTHACHE

  Translator’s Note

  Author’s Preface and Notes

  Acknowledgments

  One day in September 1967, I translated a very short Andersen tale, which she did not know, for Ruth Hill Viguers; and then the whole idea of a new Andersen translation came into being. A few months later Peter Hyun took the initiative and set out to make the possibility into a project. Virginia Haviland, Harriet Quimby, Paul Heins, and George Woods were so kind as to lend their good names on an application for a grant to the Chapelbrook Foundation; the response of this foundation was generous and immediate and, thanks to them, the two years that this work has been in progress has not been a time of need. When the translation was nearing completion, Dr. Bo Gronbech told me many interesting and important facts about Hans Christian Andersen. Valborg Lauritzen typed the enormous manuscript; and for her ability, good nature, and patience in trying to make out the many corrections, I am, indeed, grateful. The Jubilee Fund of the Danish National Bank kindly provided a small grant so I could pay my faithful typist. To Sharon Steinhoff I owe my thanks for many an hour’s necessary but tedious labor. Most of all, I am indebted to my wife, without whose assistance and help the translation would not have been done at all.

  Erik Christian Haugaard

  Veksebo, Denmark

  September 1972

  Foreword

  In the passage of inherited literature down the years, it has been recognized that changes in language have justified recurrent new looks at the great old tales—as often, it has been said, as in each generation. The judgment can apply to the translation of literary tales as well as to the translation or retelling of the traditional.

  This new translation comes from a bilingual Danish author who was educated in Denmark and the United States. (He wrote in English the five novels which have won distinction in the field of children’s literature.) With his particular background—he was, he says, related to one of the families who supported Andersen—the new project was a carrying into reality of a particular dream; he had the urge and the ability to take a fresh look at Andersen’s writing in its original form.

  Haugaard recognizes the rightness of Andersen’s own colloquial, simple words, which early Victorian editors too often altered to ornate, even archaic expressions. He understands Andersen’s expressed intent: “I wanted the style to be such that the reader felt the presence of the storyteller; therefore the spoken language had to be used.” Haugaard as a young man working among the rural folk of Denmark heard the vernacular. Following the text and the order of the stories in the Danish edition of 1874 which Andersen edited, he has made changes to bring the text closer to the original. His INCHELINA (5)—for “Thumbelina”—stems from a recognition of Tommelise’s derivation from tomme meaning “inch,” not from tommeltot meaning “thumb”: “… entomme lang, og defor Kaldtes hun Tommelise” becomes “… an inch long, therefore she was called Inchelina.” Another change, for a more accurate interpretation, substitutes THE MAGIC GALOSHES (10) for “The Galoshes of Fortune,” the commonly known title, which the translator perceives to be inaccurate in projecting the idea that the galoshes themselves were magic.

  In the total, chronological sequence, including the lesser known tales of adult interest, is to be found the wealth of revelatory autobiographical matter which brings Andersen to life—a more accurate picture, as Haugaard knows, than the best scholar can offer. To apprehend Andersen’s feelings about writing and criticism and about his gift of poetry one may read THE MUSE OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY (109), THE PIXY AND THE GROCER (65), “THE WILL-O’-THE-WISPS ARE IN TOWN,” SAID THE BOG WITCH (114) AND THE PIXY AND THE GARDENER’S WIFE (124). In A QUESTION OF IMAGINATION (139) one finds his humorous musings on imagination: “There was once a young man who was studying to be an author, and he wanted to be one before Easter.… [He complained]: ‘Everything in the world has been written up; no wonder I can’t find anything to write down.’ ”

  Haugaard has said that “Andersen was what Andersen wrote”; he sees him as a poet-critic whom we in our time have a need to know. Andersen’s satire and unsparing contempt are viewed through poetic Danish eyes, for Haugaard also is a poet. Clear to those eyes are Andersen’s satire and unsparing contempt expressed through the clever literary devices of animating objects like the famous darning needle and humanizing such lowly creatures as the dung beetle. Familiar is the country background of bottomless moors, storks, ancient Roskilde, and a belief in bog witches.

  This volume is for those who would study Andersen as the creator of a new kind of wonder tale and contributor to an international literature, a storyteller to be understood from more than acquaintance with the beloved tales so often shared with children. Some of the lesser known tales appeared first in England or in the United States. Seventeen were procured by editor Horace E. Scudder, who saw their importance for his Riverside Magazine, published in Boston for children, 1867–70. Eleven had their first printing there. (Scudder, we know, learned Danish at the time so that he could satisfy himself that he was securing good translations for his subscribers.) This new work, in its fresh and authentic transmission, and with Andersen’s notes accompanying the translation, is offered as a contribution to the history of a literature that belongs to every age.

  Virginia Haviland

  Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

  Introduction

  After having worked for more than two years on the translation of Andersen’s fairy tales, I have come to be on intimate terms with him. It has been said that intimacy breeds contempt; and I am sure it does for those who search for idols. But I think one can love a person for his faults as well as his virtues. Man is made from clay and clay is fragile. But maybe it is its frailty that makes us look with double wonder at an ancient Greek vase: it is so delicate, so brittle, and yet it has survived.

  Andersen lived seventy years; and I believe his fairy tales will live forever. He had innumerable weaknesses, which I shall not recount, for most of them all men possess; but he had that great courage that poets must have; and that made it possible for him to be totally aware of his own faults and virtues. A poet’s laboratory is himself, and Andersen made use of those traits for which he would have been laughed at or censored, as well as those that might earn him applause.

  He had an enormous pride, a faith in his own talent, and a belief in his own particular genius; and this brought him into conflict with the intellectuals of his time. What his critics did not understand was that his pride was also the guardian of his talent. He was a very careful writer. Many of his stories were rewritten many times. It was of great concern to him that his tales should be able to be read aloud as if they were being told.

  The fairy tale speaks to all of us; that is its particular charm. The beggar and the prince pause in the market place to hear the storyteller; and for the moment they are merely men, subject to the passions that rule us all. Again and again, in his notes and his autobiography, Andersen refers to the stories he had heard as a child. It is a strange irony that our all-embracing modern forms of communication have killed the storyteller, and may end by making us all mute.

  These stories that Andersen heard as a child were all very simple tales, and their characters were probably more archetypes than they were individuals. They were not meant to surprise—let alone shock—the listener. Indeed, their attraction lay in the fact that they were familiar. The mean, the petty, the evil, the good, and the kind were so in the manner that one was used to; it was the plot itself that held one’s interest. We of the twentieth century, who are so used to plotless novels with heroes so infinitely complex that, after having read the book, it is easier for us to describe the characters’ nervous systems than to tell what the story was about, hardly ever come into contact with this early form of literature. Yet these stories, stripped as they are of the fashionable and the modish, give us—at least for a moment—that peace which is necessary for survival. Man must live in his own time—he has no choice—but for the sake of his
sanity he must sometimes escape its tyranny—if only to be able to recognize it. Once upon a time denies time and thus curtails its power over us.

  Once upon a time is a definite point in the infinite. It exists somewhere but has no particular date, which is a feat that is hardly explainable—and yet, maybe it is. We have divided time into precise periods. “Was once upon a time in the Iron Age, the Bronze Age, or the thirteenth century?” we ask, for we are enlightened. But the peasant who heard a fairy tale in the market place and retold it to his family when he came home had no such conceptions. Time, for him, stretched from the creation till that moment which can best be described as now. And though he knew that raiment and customs changed, he did not believe they had very much influence on people. He knew the Bible well, yet it did not disturb him to see the Virgin portrayed as if she were a rich Florentine lady. Were not Saul and David like the kings he knew? Was Eve much different from his own wife? Once upon a time was not magic or poetic, as it is to us. But then, the twentieth century has produced no fairy tales.

  Andersen was the last great teller of fairy tales. We may create tales of imagination and fantasy, but they are not fairy tales. The fairy tale and the folk tale take place in the real world, no matter how exotic and strange their backgrounds may be. Witches, trolls, or mermaids may appear; but they are not figments of anyone’s imagination; they are as real as the princess or the peasant. We who are manacled by a belief in progress and theories of natural behavior find it hard to understand this. We prefer to escape into fantasy, into worlds that are safe because they never have existed and never will.

  “Once upon a time there was a boy who was so very, very poor that all he owned was the suit of clothes that he was wearing; and that was too small for him.…” That could have been the opening of a fairy tale or a description of Hans Christian Andersen setting out from his native Odense to seek his fortune in Copenhagen. Did he see witches, fairy godmothers, and trolls? He did indeed, as certainly as Odysseus heard the Siren sing. Like the heroes of the fairy tales, Andersen went out into the wide world, with a good deal of naïveté, curiosity, and lust for life as ballast. He sought the princess and half the kingdom. Nothing less would do, for he was a real poet. And he did win, if not the princess and half the kingdom, then something even better: fame in half if not the whole world. Did it make him happy? I think it did, for it meant that his suffering had not been in vain. Out of his personal grief and unhappiness, beauty had been born. Yet it was not Andersen but we who gained most from this struggle. The artists, musicians, and poets are the richest of all human beings, for they can leave a legacy that will last as long as men breathe.