Hans Christian Andersen Tales

Hans Christian Andersen

• Publisher: Canterbury Classics
• Year: 2014
• Print ISBN: 9781626862593
• eBook ISBN: 9781626862838
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Classics
• Index: Literature

"It doesn't matter if you're born in a duck yard, so long as you are hatched from a swan's egg!"—Hans Christian Andersen, "The Ugly Duckling." Fairy tales are timeless treasures passed from generation to generation, and few are as beloved as those of Danish author, Hans Christian Andersen. From the princess so sensitive she is discomforted by a single pea beneath a tower of mattresses to the unfortunate-looking duckling who matures into a stunning swan, these are the stories that stay with us long after we leave childhood behind. First published in 1835, Andersen's tales continue to delight the modern audience. Now part of the Word Cloud Classics series, Hans Christian Andersen Tales is a chic and affordable collection of these wonderful stories, complete with classics like "Thumbelina" and "The Little Mermaid, " plus some wonderful lesser-known gems to discover anew.

THE TALLOW CANDLE (1820s)

There was sputtering and sizzling as the flames played under the pan. This was the tallow candle’s cradle, and out of the warm cradle slipped the candle—perfectly shaped, all of a piece, shiny white and slender. It was formed in a way that made everyone who laid eyes on it believe that it must promise a bright and glorious future. Indeed, it was destined to keep that promise and fulfill their expectations.

The sheep—a pretty little sheep—was the candle’s mother, and the melting pot was its father. From its mother, it had inherited its dazzlingly white body and an intuitive understanding of life; but from its father, it had acquired the desire for the blazing fire that would eventually reach its very core and “shine the light” for it in life.

That is how it had been made and how it cast itself, with the best and brightest of hopes, into life. Here it met an amazing number of fellow creatures with whom it had dealings, since it desired to get to know life and thus perhaps find the most suitable niche for itself. But the candle saw the world in too benevolent a light, while the world only cared about itself and not about the tallow candle at all. The world was unable to understand the true nature of the candle, so it tried to use it to its own advantage and handled the candle improperly. Black fingers made bigger and bigger spots on the white color of innocence, which little by little totally disappeared, to be covered with the filth of an outside world that had been far too harsh and come much closer than the candle could bear, since it had been unable to distinguish between the pure and the impure—but deep inside, it was still innocent and unspoiled.

That is when the false friends realized that they could not reach its innermost part. In anger, they threw away the candle, considering it a useless thing.

The outer black layer kept away everybody good—they were afraid of becoming contaminated by the black color, of getting spots on themselves, so they kept a distance.

Now, the poor tallow candle was lonely, abandoned, and at its wit’s end. It felt cast off by what was good and discovered that it had been nothing but a blind tool used to advance what was bad. It felt so terribly sad because it had lived its life without purpose—perhaps it had even tarnished some good things by its presence. It could not grasp why and to what end it had been created, why it was put on this Earth where it might destroy itself and even others.

More and more, increasingly deeply, it pondered the situation, but the more it thought, the greater its despondency, since it could not find anything good at all, no real meaning for itself—or see the purpose it had been given at birth. It was as if the black layer had also thrown a veil over its eyes.

That was when it met a small flame, a tinderbox. The tinderbox knew the light better than the tallow candle knew itself, for the tinderbox saw everything so clearly—right through the outer layer, and inside it found so much good. Therefore, it went closer, and bright hopes emerged in the candle. It lit up, and its heart melted.

The flame shone brightly—like a wedding torch of joy. Everything became bright and clear, and it showed the way for those in its company, its true friends—and helped by the light, they could now successfully seek truth.

The body, too, was strong enough to nurture and support the burning flame. Like the beginnings of new life, one round and plump drop after the other rolled down the candle, covering the filth of the past.

This was not only the bodily, but also the spiritual gain of the marriage.

The tallow candle had found its true place in life—and proved that a true light shone for a long time, spreading joy for itself and its fellow creatures.

THE TINDERBOX (1835)

There came a soldier marching down the high road—one, two! one, two! He had his knapsack on his back and his sword at his side as he came home from the wars. On the road, he met a witch, an ugly old witch, a witch whose lower lip dangled right down on her chest.

“Good evening, soldier,” she said. “What a fine sword you’ve got there, and what a big knapsack. Aren’t you every inch a soldier! And now you shall have money, as much as you please.”

“That’s very kind, you old witch,” said the soldier.

“See that big tree.” The witch pointed to one nearby them. “It’s hollow to the roots. Climb to the top of the trunk, and you’ll find a hole through which you can let yourself down deep under the tree. I’ll tie a rope around your middle, so that when you call me, I can pull you up again.”

“What would I do deep down under that tree?” the soldier wanted to know.

“Fetch money,” the witch said. “Listen. When you touch bottom, you’ll find yourself in a great hall. It is very bright there, because more than a hundred lamps are burning. By their light, you will see three doors. Each door has a key in it, so you can open them all.

“If you walk into the first room, you’ll see a large chest in the middle of the floor. On it sits a dog, and his eyes are as big as saucers. But don’t worry about that. I’ll give you my blue-checked apron to spread out on the floor. Snatch up that dog, and set him on my apron. Then you can open the chest and take out as many pieces of money as you please. They are all copper.

“But if silver suits you better, then go into the next room. There sits a dog, and his eyes are as big as mill wheels. But don’t you care about that. Set the dog on my apron while you line your pockets with silver.

“Maybe you’d rather have gold. You can, you know. You can have all the gold you can carry if you go into the third room. The only hitch is that there on the money-chest sits a dog, and each of his eyes is as big as the Round Tower of Copenhagen. That’s the sort of dog he is. But never you mind how fierce he looks. Just set him on my apron and he’ll do you no harm as you help yourself from the chest to all the gold you want.”

“That suits me,” said the soldier. “But what do you get out of all this, you old witch? I suppose that you want your share.”

“No indeed,” said the witch. “I don’t want a penny of it. All I ask is for you to fetch me an old tinderbox that my grandmother forgot the last time she was down there.”

“Good,” said the soldier. “Tie the rope around me.”

“Here it is,” said the witch, “and here’s my blue-checked apron.”

The soldier climbed up to the hole in the tree and let himself slide through it, feet foremost down into the great hall where the hundreds of lamps were burning, just as the witch had said. Now he threw open the first door he came to. Ugh! There sat a dog glaring at him with eyes as big as saucers.

“You’re a nice fellow,” the soldier said, as he shifted him to the witch’s apron and took all the coppers that his pockets would hold. He shut up the chest, set the dog back on it, and made for the second room. Alas and alack! There sat the dog with eyes as big as mill wheels.

“Don’t you look at me like that.” The soldier set him on the witch’s apron. “You’re apt to strain your eyesight.” When he saw the chest brimful of silver, he threw away all his coppers and filled both his pockets and knapsack with silver alone. Then he went into the third room. Oh, what a horrible sight to see! The dog in there really did have eyes as big as the Round Tower, and when he rolled them, they spun like wheels.

“Good evening,” the soldier said, and saluted, for such a dog he had never seen before. But on second glance, he thought to himself, “This won’t do.” So he lifted the dog down to the floor, and threw open the chest. What a sight! Here was gold and to spare. He could buy out all Copenhagen with it. He could buy all the cake-woman’s sugar pigs, and all the tin soldiers, whips, and rocking horses there are in the world. Yes, there was really money!

In short order, the soldier got rid of all the silver coins he had stuffed in his pockets and knapsack, to put gold in their place. Yes sir, he crammed all his pockets, his knapsack, his cap, and his boots so full that he scarcely could walk. Now he was made of money. Putting the dog back on the chest, he banged out the door and called up through the hollow tree:

“Pull me up now, you old witch.”

“Have you got the tinderbox?” asked the witch.

“Confound the tinderbox,” the soldier shouted. “I clean forgot it.”

When he fetched it, the witch hauled him up. There he stood on the high road again, with his pockets, boots, knapsack, and cap full of gold.

“What do you want with the tinderbox?” he asked the old witch.

“None of your business,” she told him. “You’ve had your money, so hand over my tinderbox.”

“Nonsense,” said the soldier. “I’ll take out my sword, and I’ll cut your head off if you don’t tell me at once what you want with it.”

“I won’t,” the witch screamed at him.

So he cut her head off. There she lay! But he tied all his money in her apron, slung it over his shoulder, stuck the tinderbox in his pocket, and struck out for town.

It was a splendid town. He took the best rooms at the best inn, and ordered all the good things he liked to eat, for he was a rich man now because he had so much money. The servant who cleaned his boots may have thought them remarkably well worn for a man of such means, but that was before he went shopping. Next morning, he bought boots worthy of him, and the best clothes. Now that he had turned out to be such a fashionable gentleman, people told him all about the splendors of their town—all about their king, and what a pretty princess he had for a daughter.

“Where can I see her?” the soldier inquired.

“You can’t see her at all,” everyone said. “She lives in a great copper castle inside all sorts of walls and towers. Only the king can come in or go out of it, for it’s been foretold that the princess will marry a common soldier. The king would much rather she didn’t.”

“I’d like to see her just the same,” the soldier thought. But there was no way to manage it.

Now he lived a merry life. He went to the theater, drove about in the king’s garden, and gave away money to poor people. This was to his credit, for he remembered from the old days what it feels like to go without a penny in your pocket. Now that he was wealthy a...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• 1. The Tallow Candle (1820s)
• 2. The Tinder Box (1835)
• 3. Little Claus and Big Claus (1835)
• 4. The Princess on the Pea (1835)
• 5. Little Ida’s Flowers (1835)
• 6. Thumbelina (1835)
• 7. The Naughty Boy (1835)
• 8. The Traveling Companion (1835)
• 9. The Little Mermaid (1837)
• 10. The Emperor’s New Clothes (1837)
• 11. The Galoshes of Fortune (1838)
• 12. The Steadfast Tin Soldier (1838)
• 13. The Wild Swans (1838)
• 14. The Garden of Paradise (1839)
• 15. The Flying Trunk (1839)
• 16. The Storks (1839)
• 17. The Buckwheat (1841)
• 18. Ole Lukoie (1841)
• 19. The Swineherd (1841)
• 20. The Nightingale (1843)
• 21. The Ugly Duckling (1843)
• 22. The Sweethearts; or, The Top and the Ball (1843)
• 23. The Fir Tree (1844)
• 24. The Snow Queen (1844)
• 25. The Elf Mound (1845)
• 26. The Red Shoes (1845)
• 27. The Jumpers (1845)
• 28. The Shepherdess and the Chimney-Sweep (1845)
• 29. The Bell (1845)
• 30. The Darning Needle (1845)
• 31. The Little Match Girl (1845)
• 32. The Shadow (1847)
• 33. The Old House (1847)
• 34. The Drop of Water (1847)
• 35. The Happy Family (1847)
• 36. The Story of a Mother (1847)
• 37. The Shirt Collar (1847)
• 38. There Is a Difference (1851)
• 39. It’s Quite True! (1852)
• 40. A Good Humor (1852)
• 41. Heartache (1852)
• 42. Everything in Its Proper Place (1852)
• 43. The Goblin and the Grocer (1852)
• 44. Thousands of Years From Now (1853)
• 45. Clumsy Hans (1855)
• 46. Soup From a Sausage Peg (1858)
• 47. The Old Oak Tree’s Last Dream (1858)
• 48. The Marsh King’s Daughter (1858)
• 49. Pen and Inkstand (1859)
• 50. The Butterfly (1860)
• 51. The Beetle (1861)
• 52. What the Old Man Does Is Always Right (1861)
• 53. The Snow Man (1861)
• 54. The Ice Maiden (1861)
• 55. The Snail and the Rosebush (1861)
• 56. The Teapot (1863)
• 57. The Storm Shifts the Signboards (1865)
• 58. Aunty (1866)
• 59. The Rags (1868)
• 60. What One Can Invent (1869)
• 61. The Gardener and the Noble Family (1872)
• 62. The Cripple (1872)
• 63. Aunty Toothache (1872)
• 64. What Old Johanne Told (1872)