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_The Dauntless Tin Soldier_ was written by Hans Christian
Andersen (1805-1875), and was translated from the Danish by
M. R. James (1862-1936) as part of his _Hans Andersen Forty-Two
Stories_ (1930).

Title: Hans Andersen Forty-Two Stories -- The Dauntless
   Tin Soldier
Author: Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875)
Translator: M. R. James (1862-1936)
Date of first publication: 1930
Place and date of edition used as base for this ebook:
   London: Faber and Faber, 1953
Date first posted: 4 April 2008
Date last updated: 4 April 2008
Project Gutenberg Canada ebook #104

This ebook was produced by: Dr Mark Bear Akrigg




The Dauntless Tin Soldier

by

Hans Christian Andersen

(from _Hans Andersen Forty-Two Stories_ [1930]),
translated by M. R. James)




There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers who were all
brothers, for they were all born of one old tin spoon. They
all shouldered arms and stood eyes front; red and blue was
their beautiful uniform. The very first thing they heard in
this world when the lid was taken off the box they lay in,
was the words "Tin soldiers!" It was a little boy who
shouted it, and clapped his hands: he had been given them
because it was his birthday; and now he set them up on the
table. Each soldier was exactly like his neighbour; there
was only one who was a little different. He had one leg. He
had been the last to be cast, and there was not enough tin
left. Still, he stood just as steady on his one leg as the
rest on their two, and he it is to whom we have to pay
attention.

On the table where they were set up stood a great many other
toys, but the one which caught the eye most was a lovely
paper castle. Through the little windows you could see right
into the rooms. In front of it little trees stood round a
tiny looking-glass, which was meant to look like a lake.
Swans made of wax swam on it and looked at their
reflections. The whole thing was very pretty, but prettiest
of all was a little lady who stood in the open door of the
castle: she too was cut out of paper, but she had a skirt of
the finest possible muslin, and a little painted blue stripe
crossing her shoulder like a scarf: in the middle of it was
a bright spangle as big as the whole of her face. The little
lady had her arms stretched out, for she was a dancer, and
one of her legs was lifted so high that the tin soldier
could not see it, and thought that she had only one leg like
him.

"That would be the wife for me," he thought, "but she's very
genteel. She lives in a castle, and I have only a box, and
there's five-and-twenty of us to go in it--it's no place
for her. Still, I must try to get introduced."

Then he laid himself down at his full length behind a snuff
box which was on the table. From there he could look
straight at the elegant little lady, who continued to stand
on one leg without losing her balance.

In the evening, all the other Tin Soldiers were put into
their box, and the people of the house went to bed. Then the
toys began to play: they played at paying calls, at fighting
battles, and getting up balls. The Tin Soldiers rattled in
their box, for they wanted to join in, but they couldn't get
the lid off. The nutcracker turned head over heels, the
slate pencil made a great to-do on the slate. Such a fuss
there was that the canary woke up and began to talk--in
verse, too! The only two who did not leave their places were
the Tin Soldier and the little dancer; she stood stock-still
on tiptoe, with her arms spread out; and he was just as
steady on his one leg. He did not take his eyes off her for
a second.

Then the clock struck twelve, and "crack", up sprang the lid
of the snuff box. But there was no snuff in it, no, but a
little black troll--it was just a trick.

"Tin Soldier," said the troll, "will you keep your eyes to
yourself?"

But the Tin Soldier pretended not to hear.

"All right, wait till to-morrow," said the troll.

Well, when to-morrow came and the children got up, the Tin
Soldier was put on the window-sill, and whether it was the
troll's doing or the draught, all at once the window flew
open and the soldier fell down on his head from the third
story. It was a fearful fall. His leg pointed straight up,
and there he stayed on his cap, with his bayonet stuck
between two paving-stones.

The nurserymaid and the little boy ran down at once to look
for him, but though they as nearly as possible trod on him,
they could not see him. If the Tin Soldier had only shouted
"Here I am", they would have found him easily enough, but he
thought it was not proper to call out loud, seeing he was in
uniform.

Next it began to rain. The drops came faster, one after
another; it became a regular downpour. When it was over, two
street-boys came along.

"Look here," said one of them, "there's a Tin Soldier. He
shall go for a voyage."

So they made a boat out of newspaper, put the Tin Soldier in
it and off he sailed, down the gutter; the two boys ran
along with him and clapped their hands. Mercy on us! What
billows raged in that gutter, and what a stream was there!
There had, indeed, been a torrent of rain. The paper boat
tossed up and down and sometimes whirled round and round so
that the Tin Soldier became dizzy; but he was as steady as
ever, turned not a hair, looked straight in front of him,
and kept shouldering arms.

All at once the boat darted under a broad culvert. It was as
dark there as if he had been still in his box.

"Where can I be going to now?" thought he. "Aye, this is the
troll's doing. Ah, dear, if that little lady was here in the
boat, it might be twice as dark for all I cared!" Just then
came up a big water-rat who lived under the culvert.

"Got a pass? Out with your pass!"

But the Tin Soldier said nothing, and held his rifle tighter
than ever. The boat rushed on, and the rat after it.

Ugh! How it gnashed its teeth and called out to the chips
and straws: "Stop him! Stop him! He hasn't paid the toll! He
hasn't shown his pass!"

But the stream ran stronger and stronger. Already the Tin
Soldier could see daylight, ahead where the culvert ended;
but at the same time he heard a rushing sound that was
enough to appal the bravest heart. Think of it! At the end
of the culvert the gutter ran straight into a huge canal.
For him it was as dreadful as for us to go down a great
waterfall in a boat.

By this time he was so near it that he could not stop: on
went the boat, and the poor Tin Soldier held himself as
stiff as he could--no one should say of him that he winked
an eye. The boat turned round three or four times, and
filled with water to the gunwale: it was bound to sink. The
Tin Soldier was up to his neck in water. Deeper and deeper
sank the boat. Softer and softer grew the paper. The water
closed over the Soldier's head, and he thought of the pretty
little dancer whom he should never see again, and in his
ears rang the words:

    _Onward, onward, warrior,
    Death waits for thee!_

Then the paper parted in sunder, and the Tin Soldier fell
through--and in the same instant was swallowed by a fish.

Goodness, how dark it was in there!--darker even than in the
culvert, and besides, the space was so cramped. But the Tin
Soldier was steady as ever and lay all his length with
shouldered arms.

The fish darted hither and thither and executed the most
alarming movements. Finally it became quite quiet, then a
ray of light seemed to break through. The light shone out
full, and somebody called out: "A Tin Soldier!" The fact
was, the fish had been caught, brought to market, sold and
taken into the kitchen, where a maid cut it open with a big
knife. She took the Soldier by the body in her finger and
thumb and carried him into the parlour, where everybody
wanted to see the remarkable man who had travelled about in
the inside of a fish. But the Tin Soldier was not in the
least above himself.

They set him up on the table, and there--well! it is funny
how things do come about in the world--the Tin Soldier was
in the self-same room he had been in before: he saw the very
same children, and the toys were on the table--the lovely
castle with the pretty little dancer, who was still standing
on one leg, with the other lifted high up. She too was
steadfast. The Tin Soldier was touched, and could have wept
tears of tin, but it would not have been becoming. He looked
at her and she looked at him, but neither of them said a
word.

At that moment one of the little boys picked up the Soldier
and threw him right into the stove. He had no explanation to
give: of course, it was the troll in the snuff box who was
responsible.

The Tin Soldier stood there, all lit up, and felt a heat
that was overpowering, but whether it came from the real
fire, or from love, he did not know. The colours had all
come off him: nobody could say whether that had happened on
his journey or was the result of sorrow. He looked at the
little lady, and she looked at him; and he felt he was
melting, but still he stood steady with shouldered arms.
Then a door opened, the wind caught the dancer, and she flew
like a sylph into the stove to the Tin Soldier, blazed up
into a flame and was gone. The Tin Soldier melted down into
a lump, and when next day the maid took out the ashes, she
found him in the shape of a little tin heart. Of the dancer,
only the spangle was left, and that was burnt as black as a
coal.




Transcriber's note:

The edition used as base for this book contained the
following errors, which have been corrected:

Page 108:
they all shouldered arms
=> They all shouldered arms

Page 108:
there's five, and-twenty of us to go in it
=> there's five-and-twenty of us to go in it

Page 111:
somebody called out: "A Tin Soldier!
=> somebody called out: "A Tin Soldier!"


[End of _The Dauntless Tin Soldier_ by Hans Christian Andersen,
from _Hans Andersen Forty-Two Stories_, translated by
M. R. James]