that happened to him at Dresden; and it is so pretty that I insert it
here. He writes: "An evening that for me was particularly interesting
I spent with the royal family, who received me most graciously. Here
reigned the same quiet that is found in private life in a happy
family. A whole troop of amiable children, all belonging to Prince
John, were present. The youngest of the princesses, a little girl who
knew that I had written the story of 'The Fir-tree,' began familiarly
her conversation with me in these words: 'Last Christmas we also had a
fir-tree, and it stood here in this very room.' Afterwards, when she
was taken to bed earlier than the others, and had wished her parents
and the king and queen 'Good night,' she turned round once more at the
half-closed door, and nodded to me in a friendly manner, and as though
we were old acquaintance. I was her prince of the fairy tale."
But it is not the praise of the great, or the admiration of a court,
on which he sets most value, as you will see by the following extract
from a letter which I received from him to-day, only an hour or two
ago. It is about his stay in England, and his visit to the north,
after I had left him, and I am sure he will not mind my sharing thus
much of what he writes to me with you. "The hearty welcome I met with
in Scotland moved me greatly. My writings were so well known, I found
so many friends, that I can hardly take in so much happiness. But I
must relate you one instance: in Edinburgh I went with a party of
friends to Heriot's Hospital, where orphan children are taken care of
and educated. We were all obliged to inscribe our names in the
visitors' book. The porter read the names, and asked if that was
Andersen the author: and when some one answered 'Yes,' the old man
folded his hands and gazed quite in ecstacy at an old gentleman who
was with us, and said: 'Yes, yes! he is just as I had always fancied
him to myself--the venerable white hair--the mild expression--yes,
that is Andersen!' They then explained to him that I was the person.
'That young man!' he exclaimed; 'Why generally such people, when one
hears about them, are either dead or very old.' When the story was
told me, I at first thought it was a joke; but the porter came up to
me in a most touching manner, and told me how he and all the boys
entered so entirely and heartily into my stories. It so affected me
that I almost shed tears."
This is indeed popularity!
Now I dare say you thought that the little princes and princesses in a
king's palace had tastes and feelings very different from a poor
charity-boy; but you see, although so different in rank, they were
alike in one thing--they were both children; and childhood, if left to
itself, is in all situations the same.
And do you know, too, my little friends, that you are very excellent
critics? Yes, most sage and excellent critics; though I dare say not
one of you even ever dreamt of such a thing. But it is, nevertheless,
true; and not some, but all of you, whether in England, Scotland, or
Ireland--the little boys in Heriot's Hospital, and the little princess
at Dresden who knew the story of "The Fir-Tree." For without one
dissentient voice you have passed favorable judgment on these stories:
in your estimation of them your were unanimous.
Yet when they first appeared in Denmark some of the critics by
profession found fault with them, and wondered, as they said, how an
author who had written works of greater pretension, could think of
making his appearance with something so childish as these tales. And
some kind friends, grown-up people, whose opinion was not unimportant,
advised him by all means to give up writing such stories as he had no
talent for them; and it was only later, that, to use Andersen's own
words, "every door and heart in Denmark was open to them." But all of
you, not critics by profession, you welcomed them at once; as soon as
you saw them you perceived their beauty--you cherished and gave them a
place in your heart. And this is the reason why I say that you are
sage and excellent critics; and if you can preserve the same
simple-heartedness, finding pleasure in what is natural and truthful,
and allow yourselves to be guided by the instincts of your pure
uncorrupted nature, you may always be so.
You will like to know that Thorwaldsen, the great Thorwaldsen, loved
to hear Andersen repeat these tales. It is true he has quite a
peculiar way of relating them, which adds greatly to their charm. I
begged him one day to tell me the story of "The Top and Ball," and he
immediately sat down on the sofa and began. Though I knew it by heart
from beginning to end, so often had I read it over, yet it now seemed
quite new, from his manner of telling it; and I was as amused and
laughed as much as though I had never heard it before. That very
pretty one, "Ole Luckoie," was written when in the society of
Thorwaldsen; and "often at dusk," so Andersen relates, "when the
family circle were sitting in the summer house, would Thorwaldsen
glide gently in, and, tapping me on the shoulder, ask, 'Are we little
ones to have no story tonight?' It pleased him to hear the same story
over and over again; and often, while employed on his grandest works,
he would stand with a smiling countenance and listen to the tale of
'Top and Ball,' and 'The Ugly Duck.'" The last is my favorite also.
From Rome, where this occurred, you must now take a jump with me to
Hamburg; for I have to tell you an anecdote that happened there to
Andersen, also, about his stories which he relates in his "Life." He
had gone to see Otto Speckter, whose clever and characteristic
pictures most of you will certainly know, and he intended to go
afterwards to the play. Speckter accompanied him. "We passed an
elegant house. 'We must first go in here, my dear friend,' said he; 'a
very rich family lives there, friends of mine, friends of your tales;
the children will be overjoyed--' 'But the opera,' said I. 'Only for
two minutes,' he replied, and drew me into the house, told my name,
and the circle of children collected round me. 'And now repeat a
story,' he said: 'only a single one.' I did so, and hurried to the
theatre. 'That was a strange visit,' I said. 'A capital one! a most
excellent one!' shouted he. 'Only think! the children are full of
Andersen and his fairy tales: all of a sudden he stands in the midst
of them, and relates one himself, and then he is gone--vanished. Why,
that very circumstance is a fairy tale for the children, and will
remain vividly in their memory.' It amused me too."
You will be getting impatient, I am afraid. However, before I finish I
must tell you something about the stories in this volume. The
translation of them I had begun in Andersen's room, and when he came
in we began talking about them, one of which, "The Little Girl with
the Matches," I had read in his absence. I told him how delighted I
was with it--that I found it most exquisitely narrated; but that how
such a thing came into his head, I could not conceive. He then said,
"That was written when I was on a visit at The Duke of Augustenburg's.
I received a letter from Copenhagen from the editor of a Danish
almanac for the people, in which he said he was very anxious to have
something of mine for it, but that the book was already nearly
printed. In the letter were two woodcuts, and these he wished to make
use of, if only I would write something to which they might serve as
illustrations. One was the picture of a little match-girl, exactly as
I have described her. It was from the picture that I wrote the
story--wrote it surrounded by splendor and rejoicing, at the castle of
Grauenstein, in Schleswig."
"And Little Tuk," said I.--"Oh! 'Little Tuk,'" answered he, laughing;
"I will tell you all about him. When in Oldenburg I lived for some
time at the house of a friend, the Counsellor von E***. The children's
names were Charles and Gustave (Augusta?) but the little boy always
called himself 'Tuk.' He meant to say 'Charles,' but he could not
pronounce it otherwise. Now once I promised the dear little things
that I would put them in a fairy tale, and so both of them appeared,
but as poor children in the story of 'Little Tuk.' So you see, as
reward for all the hospitality I received in Germany, I take the
German children and make Danes of them."
You see he can make a story out of anything. "They peep over his
shoulder," as he once wrote to me, a long time ago. And one time, when
he was just going to set off on a journey, his friend said to him, "My
little Erich possesses two leaden soldiers, and he has given one of
them to me for you, that you may take it with you on your travels."
Now I should not at all wonder if this were the very "Resolute Leaden
Soldier" you read of in the "**Tales From Denmark**;" but this one, it
is true, was a Turk, and I don't think the other was. And then, too,
there is nothing said about this one having but one leg. However, it
may be the same, after all.
As to the tale called "The Naughty Boy," that, it is true, is an old
story. The poet Anacreon wrote it long, long ago; but Andersen has
here re-told it in so humorous a manner, that it will no doubt amuse
you as much as though it had been written originally by him. He has
given the whole, too, quite another dress; and "the naughty boy"
himself he has tricked out so drolly, and related such amusing tricks
of him, that I think Mr. Andersen had better take care the young rogue
does not play him a sly turn some day or other, for the little
incorrigible rascal respects nobody.
Before I say farewell, there is one thing I must tell you; which is,
there are two persons you certainly little think of, to whom you owe
some thanks for the pretty tales of Anderson that have so greatly
delighted you, as well as for those he may still write. You will never
guess who they are, so I will tell you. They are Frederick VI., the
late, and Christian VIII., the present King of Denmark. The former
gave Andersen a pension to relieve him from the necessity of depending
on his pen for bread; so that, free from cares, he was able to pursue
his own varied fancies. Though not much, it was sufficient; but the
present king, who has always been most kind to your friend
Andersen--for so you surely consider him--increased his pension
considerably, in order that, he might be able to travel, and follow in
full liberty the bent of his genius.
Now do you not like a king who thus holds out his hand to genius, who
delights to honor the man who has done honor to their common country,
and who is proud to interest himself in his fate as in that of a
friend? And this King Christian VIII. does. Am I not right, then, in
saying that you owe him your thanks?
Farewell, my little friends, and believe that I am always ready and
willing to serve you.
Charles Boner.*
Donau Stauf, near Ratisbon.
------
* By whom several of the stories in this volume were translated
------------
Published by James Miller, New York.
------------
THE STORY
OF THE
RED BOOK OF APPIN:
A Fairy Tale of the Middle Ages.
WITH
AN INTERPRETATION.
By the Author of
"Alchemy and the Alchemists,"
"Swedenborg a Hermetic Philosopher," and
"Christ the Spirit."
Price 50 cents.
------
THE ICE MAIDEN,
And other Tales.
By Hans Christian Andersen.
Translated by Fanny Fuller. Price 75 cents.
------
ON THE
CHARACTER AND INFLUENCE
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By M. Guizot.
50 cents.
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FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.
A SERIES OF READINGS, AND DISCOURSES THEREON.
4 vols. 12mo.
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THE
UGLY DUCK,
And other Tales.
BY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.
Illustrated.
[Illustration: Mother Holding Mistletoe Above Infant.]
New York:
Published by James Miller,
(Successor To C. S. Francis & Co.)
522 Broadway.