THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL
Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening--
the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along
street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left
she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were
large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they;
the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street,
because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.
One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by
urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradle
when he some day or other should have children himself. So the little maiden
walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold.
She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle
them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day;
one had given her a single farthing.
She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very picture of sorrow,
poor little thing!
The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls
around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought. From
the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roast
goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she thought.
In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the other,
she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawn
close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go home she did
venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a farthing
money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at home it was
too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind whistled,
even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.
Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford
world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle,
it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. "Rischt!"
how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle,
she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed really to
little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, with
burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire burned with such
blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already
stretched out her feet to warm them too; but--the small flame went out,
stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.
She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light
fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that
could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth;
it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famously
with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still more capital
behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor
with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl;
when--the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was
behind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most
magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than
one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house.
Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-colored
pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her.
The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when--the match went
out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them
as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.
"Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; for her old grandmother,
only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, that
when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.
She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the
there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with
an expression of love.
"Grandmother!" cried the little one. "Oh, take me with you!
You go away when
the match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the delicious
goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the
bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure
keeping her grandmother near her. And the matches gave such a brilliant
that it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother
so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both
flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was
neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety--they were with God.
But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy
cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall--frozen to death
the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the child there with
matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. "She wanted to warm herself,"
people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things
had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother
she had entered on the joys of a new year.
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