Little Ida’s Flowers
by
Hans Christian Andersen
(1835)
Y poor flowers are quite dead,” said
little Ida, “they were so pretty yesterday evening, and now all the
leaves are hanging down quite withered. What do they do that for,” she
asked, of the student who sat on the sofa; she liked him very much, he
could tell the most amusing stories, and cut out the prettiest pictures;
hearts, and ladies dancing, castles with doors that opened, as well as
flowers; he was a delightful student. “Why do the flowers look so faded
to-day?” she asked again, and pointed to her nosegay, which was quite
withered.
“Don’t you know what is the matter with them?” said the student. “The
flowers were at a ball last night, and therefore, it is no wonder they
hang their heads.”
“But flowers cannot dance?” cried little Ida.
“Yes indeed, they can,” replied the student. “When it grows dark, and
everybody is asleep, they jump about quite merrily. They have a ball
almost every night.”
“Can children go to these balls?”
“Yes,” said the student, “little daisies and lilies of the valley.”
“Where do the beautiful flowers dance?” asked little Ida.
“Have you not often seen the large castle outside the gates of the town,
where the king lives in summer, and where the beautiful garden is full of
flowers? And have you not fed the swans with bread when they swam towards
you? Well, the flowers have capital balls there, believe me.”
“I was in the garden out there yesterday with my mother,” said Ida, “but
all the leaves were off the trees, and there was not a single flower
left. Where are they? I used to see so many in the summer.”
“They are in the castle,” replied the student. “You must know that as
soon as the king and all the court are gone into the town, the flowers
run out of the garden into the castle, and you should see how merry they
are. The two most beautiful roses seat themselves on the throne, and are
called the king and queen, then all the red cockscombs range themselves
on each side, and bow, these are the lords-in-waiting. After that the
pretty flowers come in, and there is a grand ball. The blue violets
represent little naval cadets, and dance with hyacinths and crocuses
which they call young ladies. The tulips and tiger-lilies are the old
ladies who sit and watch the dancing, so that everything may be conducted
with order and propriety.”
“But,” said little Ida, “is there no one there to hurt the flowers for
dancing in the king’s castle?”
“No one knows anything about it,” said the student. “The old steward of
the castle, who has to watch there at night, sometimes comes in; but he
carries a great bunch of keys, and as soon as the flowers hear the keys
rattle, they run and hide themselves behind the long curtains, and stand
quite still, just peeping their heads out. Then the old steward says, ‘I
smell flowers here,’ but he cannot see them.”
“Oh how capital,” said little Ida, clapping her hands. “Should I be able
to see these flowers?”
“Yes,” said the student, “mind you think of it the next time you go out,
no doubt you will see them, if you peep through the window. I did so
to-day, and I saw a long yellow lily lying stretched out on the sofa. She
was a court lady.”
“Can the flowers from the Botanical Gardens go to these balls?” asked
Ida. “It is such a distance!”
“Oh yes,” said the student “whenever they like, for they can fly. Have
you not seen those beautiful red, white. and yellow butterflies, that
look like flowers? They were flowers once. They have flown off their
stalks into the air, and flap their leaves as if they were little wings
to make them fly. Then, if they behave well, they obtain permission to
fly about during the day, instead of being obliged to sit still on their
stems at home, and so in time their leaves become real wings. It may be,
however, that the flowers in the Botanical Gardens have never been to the
king’s palace, and, therefore, they know nothing of the merry doings at
night, which take place there. I will tell you what to do, and the
botanical professor, who lives close by here, will be so surprised. You
know him very well, do you not? Well, next time you go into his garden,
you must tell one of the flowers that there is going to be a grand ball
at the castle, then that flower will tell all the others, and they will
fly away to the castle as soon as possible. And when the professor walks
into his garden, there will not be a single flower left. How he will
wonder what has become of them!”
“But how can one flower tell another? Flowers cannot speak?”
“No, certainly not,” replied the student; “but they can make signs. Have
you not often seen that when the wind blows they nod at one another, and
rustle all their green leaves?”
“Can the professor understand the signs?” asked Ida.
“Yes, to be sure he can. He went one morning into his garden, and saw a
stinging nettle making signs with its leaves to a beautiful red
carnation. It was saying, ‘You are so pretty, I like you very much.’ But
the professor did not approve of such nonsense, so he clapped his hands
on the nettle to stop it. Then the leaves, which are its fingers, stung
him so sharply that he has never ventured to touch a nettle since.”
“Oh how funny!” said Ida, and she laughed.
“How can anyone put such notions into a child’s head?” said a tiresome
lawyer, who had come to pay a visit, and sat on the sofa. He did not like
the student, and would grumble when he saw him cutting out droll or
amusing pictures. Sometimes it would be a man hanging on a gibbet and
holding a heart in his hand as if he had been stealing hearts. Sometimes
it was an old witch riding through the air on a broom and carrying her
husband on her nose. But the lawyer did not like such jokes, and he would
say as he had just said, “How can anyone put such nonsense into a child’s
head! what absurd fancies there are!”
But to little Ida, all these stories which the student told her about the
flowers, seemed very droll, and she thought over them a great deal. The
flowers did hang their heads, because they had been dancing all night,
and were very tired, and most likely they were ill. Then she took them
into the room where a number of toys lay on a pretty little table, and
the whole of the table drawer besides was full of beautiful things. Her
doll Sophy lay in the doll’s bed asleep, and little Ida said to her, “You
must really get up Sophy, and be content to lie in the drawer to-night;
the poor flowers are ill, and they must lie in your bed, then perhaps
they will get well again.” So she took the doll out, who looked quite
cross, and said not a single word, for she was angry at being turned out
of her bed. Ida placed the flowers in the doll’s bed, and drew the quilt
over them. Then she told them to lie quite still and be good, while she
made some tea for them, so that they might be quite well and able to get
up the next morning. And she drew the curtains close round the little
bed, so that the sun might not shine in their eyes. During the whole
evening she could not help thinking of what the student had told her. And
before she went to bed herself, she was obliged to peep behind the
curtains into the garden where all her mother’s beautiful flowers grew,
hyacinths and tulips, and many others. Then she whispered to them quite
softly, “I know you are going to a ball to-night.” But the flowers
appeared as if they did not understand, and not a leaf moved; still Ida
felt quite sure she knew all about it. She lay awake a long time after
she was in bed, thinking how pretty it must be to see all the beautiful
flowers dancing in the king’s garden. “I wonder if my flowers have really
been there,” she said to herself, and then she fell asleep. In the night
she awoke; she had been dreaming of the flowers and of the student, as
well as of the tiresome lawyer who found fault with him. It was quite
still in Ida’s bedroom; the night-lamp burnt on the table, and her father
and mother were asleep. “I wonder if my flowers are still lying in
Sophy’s bed,” she thought to herself; “how much I should like to know.”
She raised herself a little, and glanced at the door of the room where
all her flowers and playthings lay; it was partly open, and as she
listened, it seemed as if some one in the room was playing the piano, but
softly and more prettily than she had ever before heard it. “Now all the
flowers are certainly dancing in there,” she thought, “oh how much I
should like to see them,” but she did not dare move for fear of
disturbing her father and mother. “If they would only come in here,” she
thought; but they did not come, and the music continued to play so
beautifully, and was so pretty, that she could resist no longer. She
crept out of her little bed, went softly to the door and looked into the
room. Oh what a splendid sight there was to be sure! There was no
night-lamp burning, but the room appeared quite light, for the moon shone
through the window upon the floor, and made it almost like day. All the
hyacinths and tulips stood in two long rows down the room, not a single
flower remained in the window, and the flower-pots were all empty. The
flowers were dancing gracefully on the floor, making turns and holding
each other by their long green leaves as they swung round. At the piano
sat a large yellow lily which little Ida was sure she had seen in the
summer, for she remembered the student saying she was very much like Miss
Lina, one of Ida’s friends. They all laughed at him then, but now it
seemed to little Ida as if the tall, yellow flower was really like the
young lady. She had just the same manners while playing, bending her long
yellow face from side to side, and nodding in time to the beautiful
music. Then she saw a large purple crocus jump into the middle of the
table where the playthings stood, go up to the doll’s bedstead and draw
back the curtains; there lay the sick flowers, but they got up directly,
and nodded to the others as a sign that they wished to dance with them.
The old rough doll, with the broken mouth, stood up and bowed to the
pretty flowers. They did not look ill at all now, but jumped about and
were very merry, yet none of them noticed little Ida. Presently it seemed
as if something fell from the table. Ida looked that way, and saw a
slight carnival rod jumping down among the flowers as if it belonged to
them; it was, however, very smooth and neat, and a little wax doll with a
broad brimmed hat on her head, like the one worn by the lawyer, sat upon
it. The carnival rod hopped about among the flowers on its three red
stilted feet, and stamped quite loud when it danced the Mazurka; the
flowers could not perform this dance, they were too light to stamp in
that manner. All at once the wax doll which rode on the carnival rod
seemed to grow larger and taller, and it turned round and said to the
paper flowers, “How can you put such things in a child’s head? they are
all foolish fancies;” and then the doll was exactly like the lawyer with
the broad brimmed hat, and looked as yellow and as cross as he did; but
the paper dolls struck him on his thin legs, and he shrunk up again and
became quite a little wax doll. This was very amusing, and Ida could not
help laughing. The carnival rod went on dancing, and the lawyer was
obliged to dance also. It was no use, he might make himself great and
tall, or remain a little wax doll with a large black hat; still he must
dance. Then at last the other flowers interceded for him, especially
those who had lain in the doll’s bed, and the carnival rod gave up his
dancing. At the same moment a loud knocking was heard in the drawer,
where Ida’s doll Sophy lay with many other toys. Then the rough doll ran
to the end of the table, laid himself flat down upon it, and began to
pull the drawer out a little way.
Then Sophy raised himself, and looked round quite astonished, “There must
be a ball here to-night,” said Sophy. “Why did not somebody tell me?”
“Will you dance with me?” said the rough doll.
“You are the right sort to dance with, certainly,” said she, turning her
back upon him.
Then she seated herself on the edge of the drawer, and thought that
perhaps one of the flowers would ask her to dance; but none of them came.
Then she coughed, “Hem, hem, a-hem;” but for all that not one came. The
shabby doll now danced quite alone, and not very badly, after all. As
none of the flowers seemed to notice Sophy, she let herself down from the
drawer to the floor, so as to make a very great noise. All the flowers
came round her directly, and asked if she had hurt herself, especially
those who had lain in her bed. But she was not hurt at all, and Ida’s
flowers thanked her for the use of the nice bed, and were very kind to
her. They led her into the middle of the room, where the moon shone, and
danced with her, while all the other flowers formed a circle round them.
Then Sophy was very happy, and said they might keep her bed; she did not
mind lying in the drawer at all. But the flowers thanked her very much,
and said,—
“We cannot live long. To-morrow morning we shall be quite dead; and you
must tell little Ida to bury us in the garden, near to the grave of the
canary; then, in the summer we shall wake up and be more beautiful than
ever.”
“No, you must not die,” said Sophy, as she kissed the flowers.
Then the door of the room opened, and a number of beautiful flowers
danced in. Ida could not imagine where they could come from, unless they
were the flowers from the king’s garden. First came two lovely roses,
with little golden crowns on their heads; these were the king and queen.
Beautiful stocks and carnations followed, bowing to every one present.
They had also music with them. Large poppies and peonies had pea-shells
for instruments, and blew into them till they were quite red in the face.
The bunches of blue hyacinths and the little white snowdrops jingled
their bell-like flowers, as if they were real bells. Then came many more
flowers: blue violets, purple heart’s-ease, daisies, and lilies of the
valley, and they all danced together, and kissed each other. It was very
beautiful to behold.
At last the flowers wished each other good-night. Then little Ida crept
back into her bed again, and dreamt of all she had seen. When she arose
the next morning, she went quickly to the little table, to see if the
flowers were still there. She drew aside the curtains of the little bed.
There they all lay, but quite faded; much more so than the day before.
Sophy was lying in the drawer where Ida had placed her; but she looked
very sleepy.
“Do you remember what the flowers told you to say to me?” said little
Ida. But Sophy looked quite stupid, and said not a single word.
“You are not kind at all,” said Ida; “and yet they all danced with you.”
Then she took a little paper box, on which were painted beautiful birds,
and laid the dead flowers in it.
“This shall be your pretty coffin,” she said; “and by and by, when my
cousins come to visit me, they shall help me to bury you out in the
garden; so that next summer you may grow up again more beautiful than
ever.”
Her cousins were two good-tempered boys, whose names were James and
Adolphus. Their father had given them each a bow and arrow, and they had
brought them to show Ida. She told them about the poor flowers which were
dead; and as soon as they obtained permission, they went with her to bury
them. The two boys walked first, with their crossbows on their shoulders,
and little Ida followed, carrying the pretty box containing the dead
flowers. They dug a little grave in the garden. Ida kissed her flowers
and then laid them, with the box, in the earth. James and Adolphus then
fired their crossbows over the grave, as they had neither guns nor
cannons.
موضوع: Little Ida’s Flowers