The Little Match Girl - Den lille pige med svovlstikkerne

The Little Match Girl

By Hans Christian Andersen (April 2, 1805 – August 4, 1875)

It was terribly cold and nearly dark on the last evening of the old year and the snow was falling swiftly. In the 

cold and the darkness a poor little girl with bare head and naked feet roamed through the streets.

It is true that she had on a pair of slippers when she had left home, but they were not of much use. They were very large, so large, indeed, that they had belonged to her mother. The poor little girl had lost them while running across a street avoiding two carriages that rolled along at a terrible rate of speed. One of the slippers she could not find and a boy had seized the other and ran away with it. The boy said that he could use it as a cradle when he had children of his own. So, the little girl went on with her little naked feet, which were quite red and blue from the cold.

In an old apron she carried a number of wooden matches. She held another bundle in her tiny hands. No one had bought anything from her the whole day, nor had any one given here even a penny. Shivering with cold and hunger she crept along; poor little child, she looked the picture of misery. She ignored the snowflakes that fell on her long, fair hair, hair which hung in curls on her shivering shoulders.

Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory smell of roast goose, for it was New Year's Eve … yes, she remembered that. In a corner between two houses, one of which projected beyond the other, she sank down and huddled herself tightly.

She had drawn her little feet under her, but she still could not ward off the cold; she dared not go home, for she hadn’t sold any matches and was unable to take even a penny home with her. Her father would certainly beat her and besides, it was almost as cold at home as where she was. They had only the roof to cover them, through which the wind howled, although the largest holes were stopped up with straw and rags.

Her little hands were almost frozen with the cold. Ah, perhaps a burning match might be of some good, if she could only draw it from the bundle and strike it against the wall, just to warm her little fingers. She drew one out, “scratch!” how it sputtered as it burnt! It gave a warm, bright light like a little candle as she held her hand over it. It was really a wonderful light. It seemed to the little girl as though she sat by a large iron stove with polished brass feet and a brass ornament. How the fire burned! It felt so beautifully warm that the child stretched out her feet as if to warm them, when, lo, the flame of the match went out and the stove vanished; she had only the remains of the half-burnt match in her hand.

She rubbed another match on the wall, it burst into a flame. Where its light fell upon the wall it became as transparent as a veil and she could see into the room. The table was covered with a snowy-white tablecloth. Upon it lay a splendid dinner service, complete with a steaming roast goose stuffed with apples and dried plums. And what was still more wonderful, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled across the floor to the little girl with a knife and fork in its succulent breast. However, the match went out and there remained nothing but the thick, damp, cold wall before her.

She lit another match and found herself sitting under a beautiful Christmas-tree. It was larger and more beautifully decorated than the one which she had observed through the glass door at the rich merchant's shop. Thousands of lights were burning upon the green branches, and colored pictures, like those she had seen in the show-windows, looked down upon it all. As the little match girl stretched out her hand towards them … the match went out.

The Christmas lights rose higher and higher until they looked like the stars in the sky. She saw a star fall, leaving behind it a bright streak of fire. “Someone is dying,” thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved he, and who was now long dead, had told her that when a star falls a soul was going up to God.

Again she rubbed a match upon the wall and the light shone round her; in the brightness stood her old grandmother, clear and shining, yet mild and loving in appearance. “Grandmother,” cried the little one, “Oh, take me with you. I know you will go away when the match burns out; you will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose, and the large, glorious Christmas tree.”

She made haste to light the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother there. The matches glowed with a light that was brighter than the noon-day, and her grandmother had never appeared so large or so beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms and they both rose upward into brightness and joy far above the earth where there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor pain, for they were with God.

In the dawn of morning lay the poor little one with pale cheeks and a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall. She had frozen to death on the last evening of the former year and the New Year's sun rose and shone upon her little corpse! The child sat in the stiffness of death, holding the matches in her hand, one bundle of which was burnt. “She tried to warm herself,” said some. No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, nor what glory she had entered into with her grandmother on this New Year's Day.

Den lille pige med svovlstikkerne
Hans Christian Andersen (April 2, 1805 – August 4, 1875) Dansk/Danish

Det var så grueligt koldt; det sneede og det begyndte at blive mørk aften; det var også den sidste aften i året, nytårsaften. I denne kulde og i dette mørke gik på gaden en lille, fattig pige med bart hoved og nøgne fødder; ja hun havde jo rigtignok haft tøfler på, da hun kom hjemme fra; men hvad kunne det hjælpe! det var meget store tøfler, hendes moder havde sidst brugt dem, så store var de, og dem tabte den lille, da hun skyndte sig over gaden, idet to vogne fór så grueligt stærkt forbi; den ene tøffel var ikke at finde og den anden løb en dreng med; han sagde, at den kunne han bruge til vugge, når han selv fik børn.

Dér gik nu den lille pige på de nøgne små fødder, der var røde og blå af kulde; i et gammelt forklæde holdt hun en mængde svovlstikker og ét bundt gik hun med i hånden; ingen havde den hele dag købt af hende; ingen havde givet hende en lille skilling; sulten og forfrossen gik hun og så så forkuet ud, den lille stakkel! 

Snefnuggene faldt i hendes lange gule hår, der krøllede så smukt om nakken, men den stads tænkte hun rigtignok ikke på. Ud fra alle vinduer skinnede lysene og så lugtede der i gaden så dejligt af gåsesteg; det var jo nytårsaften, ja det tænkte hun på.

Henne i en krog mellem to huse, det ene gik lidt mere frem i gaden end det andet, der satte hun sig og krøb sammen; de små ben havde hun trukket op under sig, men hun frøs endnu mere og hjem turde hun ikke gå, hun havde jo ingen svovlstikker solgt, ikke fået en eneste skilling, hendes fader ville slå hende og koldt var der også hjemme, de havde kun taget lige over dem og der peb vinden ind, skønt der var stoppet strå og klude i de største sprækker. Hendes små hænder var næsten ganske døde af kulde. Ak! en lille svovlstik kunne gøre godt. Turde hun bare trække én ud af bundtet, stryge den mod væggen og varme fingrene. Hun trak én ud, “ritsch!” hvor sprudede den, hvor brændte den! det var en varm, klar lue, ligesom et lille lys, da hun holdt hånden om den; det var et underligt lys! Den lille pige syntes hun sad foran en stor jernkakkelovn med blanke messingkugler og messingtromle; ilden brændte så velsignet, varmede så godt! nej, hvad var det! — Den lille strakte allerede fødderne ud for også at varme disse, – – da slukkedes flammen, kakkelovnen forsvandt, — hun sad med en lille stump af den udbrændte svovlstik i hånden.

En ny blev strøget, den brændte, den lyste, og hvor skinnet faldt på muren, blev denne gennemsigtig, som et flor; hun så lige ind i stuen, hvor bordet stod dækket med en skinnende hvid dug, med fint porcelæn, og dejligt dampede den stegte gås, fyldt med svesker og æbler! og hvad der endnu var prægtigere, gåsen sprang fra fadet, vraltede hen af gulvet med gaffel og kniv i ryggen; lige hen til den fattige pige kom den; da slukkedes svovlstikken og der var kun den tykke, kolde mur at se.

Hun tændte en ny. Da sad hun under det dejligste juletræ; det var endnu større og mere pyntet, end det hun gennem glasdøren havde set hos den rige købmand, nu sidste jul; tusinde lys brændte på de grønne grene og brogede billeder, som de der pynter butiksvinduerne, så ned til hende. Den lille strakte begge hænder i vejret — da slukkedes svovlstikken; de mange julelys gik højere og højere, hun så de var nu de klare stjerner, én af 

em faldt og gjorde en lang ildstribe på himlen.

“Nu dør der én!” sagde den lille, for gamle mormor, som var den eneste, der havde været god mod hende, men nu var død, havde sagt: Når en stjerne falder, går der en sjæl op til Gud.

Hun strøg igen mod muren en svovlstik, den lyste rundt om, og i glansen stod den gamle mormor, så klar, så skinnende, så mild og velsignet.

“Mormor!” råbte den lille, “Oh tag mig med! jeg ved, du er borte, når svovlstikken går ud; borte ligesom den varme kakkelovn, den dejlige gåsesteg og det store velsignede juletræ!” — og hun strøg i hast den hele rest svovlstikker, der var i bundtet, hun ville ret holde på mormor; og svovlstikkerne lyste med en sådan glans, at det var klarere end ved den lyse dag. Mormor havde aldrig før været så smuk, så stor; hun løftede den lille pige op på sin arm, og de fløj i glans og glæde, så højt, så højt; og der var ingen kulde, ingen hunger, ingen angst, — de var hos Gud!

Men i krogen ved huset sad i den kolde morgenstund den lille pige med røde kinder, med smil om munden — død, frosset ihjel den sidste aften i det gamle år. Nytårsmorgen gik op over det lille lig, der sad med svovlstikkerne, hvoraf et knippe var næsten brændt. Hun har villet varme sig! sagde man; ingen vidste, hvad smukt hun havde set, i hvilken glans hun med gamle mormor var gået ind til nytårs glæde!