GREAT EUROPEANS: Hans Christian Andersen

It was terribly cold on the last evening of the old year. It was nearly dark, and the snow was falling fast.

In the cold and the darkness, a poor little girl, with bare head and naked feet, roamed through the streets.

She had on a pair of slippers when she left home. However, they were not of much use. They were very large, so large, indeed, that they had belonged to her mother.

The poor little creature had lost them. It ran across the street to avoid two carriages. The carriages were rolling along at a terrible rate.

She could not find one of the slippers. A boy seized the other and ran away with it. He said he could use it as a cradle when he had children of his own.

So, the little girl went on with her little, bare feet, which were quite red and blue from the cold.

In an old apron, she carried a number of matches and had a bundle of them in her hands.

No one had bought anything from her the whole day, nor had anyone given her even a penny.

Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along; poor little child, she looked the picture of misery. The snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair, which hung in curls on her shoulders, but she regarded them not.

Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory smell of roast goose, for it was New-year’s eve. Yes, she remembered that.

In a corner, between two houses, one of which projected beyond the other, she sank down and huddled herself together. She had drawn her little feet under her, but she could not keep off the cold. She dared not go home. She had sold no matches and could not take home even a penny of money.

Her father would certainly beat her. Besides, it was almost as cold at home as here, for they had only the roof to cover them, through which the wind howled, although the largest holes had been stopped up with straw and rags.

Her little hands were almost frozen with the cold. Ah! Perhaps a burning match could help. She could draw it from the bundle and strike it against the wall. At least she could warm her fingers.

She drew one out, ‘scratch!’ how it sputtered as it burnt!

It gave a warm, bright light, like a little candle, as she held her hand over it.

It was really a wonderful light. To the little girl, it seemed like she was sitting by a large iron stove. The stove had polished brass feet and a brass ornament.

How the fire burned! and seemed so beautifully warm that the child stretched out her feet as if to warm them, when, lo! The flame of the match went out. The stove vanished. She had only the remains of the half-burnt match in her hand.

She rubbed another match on the wall. It burst into a flame. Where its light fell on the wall, it became as transparent as a veil. She could see into the room.

The table was covered with a snowy white tablecloth. A splendid dinner service stood on it. There was also a steaming roast goose, stuffed with apples and dried plums.

The situation was even more wonderful. The goose jumped down from the dish and waddled across the floor.

It had a knife and fork in its breast. It moved towards the little girl. Then the match went out, and there remained nothing but the thick, damp, cold wall before her.

She lit another match, and then she found herself sitting under a beautiful Christmas tree.

It was larger. It was also more beautifully decorated than the one she had seen through the glass door at the rich merchant’s.

Tapers were burning upon the green branches. Thousands of them flickered in the light. Colored pictures, like those she had seen in the show-windows, looked down upon it all. The little one stretched out her hand towards them, and the match went out.

The Christmas lights rose higher and higher, till they looked to her like the stars in the sky.

Then she saw a star fall, leaving behind it a bright streak of fire. ‘Someone is dying,’ thought the little girl.

Her old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved her, had told her this. Her grandmother was now dead. She had told her that when a star falls, a soul is going up to God.

She again rubbed a match on the wall. The light shone around her. In the brightness stood her old grandmother, clear and shining. She appeared mild and loving.

‘Grandmother,’ cried the little one, ‘O take me with you. I know you will go away when the match burns out. You will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose, and the large, glorious Christmas tree.’

And she made haste to light the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother there.

The matches glowed with a light that was brighter than the noonday. Her grandmother had never appeared so large or so beautiful.

She took the little girl in her arms. They both flew upwards in brightness and joy, far above the earth. There was neither cold nor hunger nor pain. They were with God.

At the dawn of morning, there lay the poor little one. Her cheeks were pale, and her mouth was smiling.

She leaned against the wall. She had been frozen to death on the last evening of the year. The New-year’s sun rose and shone upon a little corpse!

The child still sat in the stiffness of death. She was holding the matches in her hand. One bundle of matches was burnt.

‘She tried to warm herself,’ said some. No one imagined the beautiful things she had seen. They could not fathom the glory she entered with her grandmother on New-year’s day.

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