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 the street a poor little
girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on,
it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which
her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and 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 an 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 of them in her hand. Nobody
had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; no one had given her a
single farthing.
She crept along
trembling with cold and hunger--a very picture of sorrow, the 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 all 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 not venture, for she had not
sold any matches and could not bring a farthing of money: from her father she
would certainly get blows, and at home it was cold 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 her a world of comfort, if
she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, draw 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, as she held
her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed really to the 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, the 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 she could see into the
room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon 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 to 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 left behind. She lighted
another match. Now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas
tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than the 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 now 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, the 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 lustre there stood the old
grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with such 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 roast goose, and
like the magnificent Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the whole bundle of
matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure of keeping
her grandmother near her. And the matches gave such a brilliant light that it
was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been 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 on the last evening of the old
year. Stiff and stark sat the child there with her 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 she had seen; no one even
dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother she had entered on the
joys of a new year