Ганс Андерсен - Fairy Tales

Marching as to war... ”

Then the paper fell apart, and the tin soldier fell through, but right away he was swallowed by a big fish.

Oh, how dark it was in there! It was even worse than in the culvert, and it was so cramped. But the tin soldier was steadfast and lay stretched out with his rifle on his shoulder.

The fish swam around and made the most horrendous movements. Finally the fish stopped moving, and then it was as if a bolt of lightning went through it. A light was shining brightly and a voice called out: “Tin soldier!” The fish had been caught, brought to market, and sold, and came into a kitchen, where the kitchen maid cut it open with a big knife. She took the tin soldier around the waist between two fingers and carried it into the living room, where everyone wanted to see the remarkable man who had traveled around in the stomach of a fish, but the tin soldier certainly wasn’t proud of it. They set him up on the table and there—Well, will wonders never cease! The tin soldier was back in the very same living room where he’d been before. He saw the same children, and the toys were standing on the table. There was the lovely castle with the beautiful little dancer who was still standing on one leg and had the other high in the air. She was steadfast too. The tin soldier was so moved that he almost cried tears of tin, but that wouldn’t be proper. He looked at her, and she looked at him, but they didn’t say anything.

Then one of the little boys grabbed the tin soldier and threw it into the stove without any reason, but it was certainly the little troll in the snuffbox who was behind it.

The tin soldier stood there quite illuminated and felt a terrible heat, but whether it was from the actual fire, or from love, he didn’t know. The colors on his uniform had faded completely away, whether from the trip or from sorrow, no one could say. He looked at the little maiden, and she looked at him, and he felt himself melting, but still he stood steadfastly with his rifle on his shoulder. Then a door was opened, the wind caught the little dancer, and she flew like a sylph into the oven to the tin soldier, flared up in flames, and was gone. Then the tin soldier melted into a blob, and the next day when the maid took out the ashes, she found him as a little tin heart, but the only thing left of the dancer was the sequin, and that was burned to a crisp.

THE SHEPHERDESS AND THE CHIMNEY SWEEP

HAVE YOU EVER SEEN a really old wooden cabinet, the kind that’s dark with age and carved with scrolls and leaves? One just like this was standing in the living room. It had been inherited from Great Grandmother and carved with roses and tulips from top to bottom. It had the strangest flourishes, and in between them little stag heads with many antlers stuck out, but in the middle of the cabinet an entire man was carved. He was really funny to look at, and he made a funny face, but you couldn’t call it a laugh. He had goat’s legs, small horns on his forehead, and a long beard. The children in the house called him GeneralBillyGoatlegs-OverandUnderWarSergeantCommander because it was a hard name to say, and not many people have that title. To have carved him must have been hard too, but there he was now! He was always looking at the table under the mirror because there was a lovely little porcelain shepherdess standing there. Her shoes were gilded, and her dress was beautifully held up with a red rose. She had a golden hat and a shepherd’s crook. She was beautiful. Right beside her stood a little chimney sweep, black as coal, but made of porcelain too. He was as clean and attractive as anyone; the fact that he was a chimney sweep was just how he was cast, of course. The porcelain manufacturer could just as easily have cast him as a prince—it wouldn’t have made any difference.

He stood there so nicely with his ladder and with a face as white and red as a girl, and that was actually a mistake because it could have been a little black. He stood quite close to the shepherdess. They had both been positioned where they were, and because of their positions they had gotten engaged. They were well suited for each other: they were young, they were of the same kind of porcelain, and they were both equally fragile.

Close by stood yet another figure who was three times as large. He was an old bobble-head Chinaman. He was also made of porcelain and said that he was the little shepherdess’ grandfather, but although he couldn’t prove it, he insisted that he had power over her, and therefore he had nodded his assent to GeneralBillyGoatlegs-OverandUnderWarSergeantCommander, when the general had proposed to the little shepherdess.

“There’s a husband for you!” said the old Chinaman. “A husband who I think is made of mahogany. He will make you Mrs. GeneralBillyGoatlegs-OverandUnderWarSergeantCommander. He has a whole cabinet full of silver, not to mention what he has hidden away.”

“I don’t want to go into that dark cabinet!” said the little shepherdess. “I’ve heard that he has eleven porcelain wives in there!”

“Then you can be the twelfth!” said the Chinaman. “Tonight, as soon as the old cabinet creaks, there’ll be a wedding, as sure as I’m a Chinaman.” And then he nodded off’ to sleep.

But the little shepherdess cried and looked at her dearest sweetheart, the porcelain chimney sweep.

“I believe I’ll ask you,” she said, “to go with me out into the wide world, for we can’t stay here.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” said the little chimney sweep. “Let’s go right now. I am sure I can support you by my trade.”

“If only we were safely off the table,” she said. “I won’t be happy until we’re out in the wide world.”

And he consoled her and showed her where to place her little foot in the carved corners and the gilded foliage of the table leg. He used his ladder too, and they made it down to the floor. But when they looked over at the old cabinet, what a commotion they saw! All the carved stags stuck their heads further out, raised their antlers, and twisted their heads. GeneralBillyGoatlegs-OverandUnderWarSergeantCommander leaped into the air and shouted to the old Chinaman, “They’re running away! They’re running away!”

That scared them, and they jumped quickly up into the drawer of the window niche.

Three or four incomplete decks of cards were in there, as well as a little toy theater that was put together as well as possible. There was a play going on, and all the queens—diamonds, hearts, clubs, and spades—sat in the front row and fanned themselves with their tulips. Behind them stood all the jacks and used their heads both at the top and the bottom, the way cards do. The play was about two star crossed lovers, and the shepherdess cried about that, because it was like her own story.

“I can’t stand it!” she said, “I have to get out of this drawer!” But when they reached the floor and looked up at the table, they saw that the old Chinaman had woken up and was rocking his entire body back and forth because his body was one big clump, of course.

“Here comes the old Chinaman!” screamed the little shepherdess, and she fell right down on her porcelain knees; that’s how miserable she was.

“I’ve got an idea,” said the chimney sweep. “Let’s crawl into that big potpourri jar in the corner. We can lie there on the roses and lavender and throw salt in his eyes when he comes.”

“That won’t work,” she said. “Besides I know that the old Chinaman and the potpourri jar were engaged at one time, and there’s always a little goodwill left over when you’ve been in such a relationship. No, we have no choice but to go out into the wide world.”

“Do you really have the courage to go out into the wide world with me?” asked the chimney sweep. “Have you thought about how big it is, and that we can never come back here again?”