There was once a woman who wished very much to have a little
child, but she could not obtain her wish. At last she went to a witch, and
said, "I should so very much like to have a little child; can you tell me
where I can find one?"
"Oh, that can be easily managed," said the witch. "Here is a barleycorn of a
different kind to those which grow in the farmer's fields, and which the
chickens eat; put it into a flower-pot, and see what will happen."
"Thank you," said the woman, and she gave the witch twelve shillings, which
was the price of the barleycorn. Then she went home and planted it, and
immediately there grew up a large handsome flower, something like a tulip in
appearance, but with its leaves tightly closed as if it were still a bud.
"It is a beautiful flower," said the woman, and she kissed the red and
golden colored leaves, and while she did so the flower opened, and she could
see that it was a real tulip. Within the flower, upon the green velvet
stamens, sat a very delicate and graceful little maiden. She was scarcely
half as long as a thumb, and they gave her the name of "Thumbelina," or
Tiny, because she was so small. A walnut shell, elegantly polished, served
her for a cradle; her bed was formed of blue violet-leaves, with a roseleaf
for a counterpane.
Here she slept at night, but during the day she amused herself on a table,
where the woman had placed a plateful of water. Round this plate were
wreaths of flowers with their stems in the water, and upon it floated a
large tulip-leaf, which served Tiny for a boat. Here the little maiden sat
and rowed herself from side to side, with two oars made of white horsehair.
It really was a very pretty sight. Tiny could, also, sing so softly and
sweetly that nothing like her singing had ever before been heard. One night,
while she lay in her pretty bed, a large, ugly, wet toad crept through a
broken pane of glass in the window, and leaped right upon the table where
Tiny lay sleeping under her roseleaf quilt. "What a pretty little wife this
would make for my son, said the toad, and she took up the walnut-shell in
which little Tiny lay asleep, and jumped through the window with it into the
garden.
In the swampy margin of a broad stream in the garden lived the toad, with
her son. He was uglier even than his mother, and when he saw the pretty
little maiden in her elegant bed, he could only cry, "Croak, croak, croak."
"Don't speak so loud, or she will wake," said the toad, "and then she might
run away, for she is as light as swan's down. We will place her on one of
the water-lily leaves out in the stream; it will be like an island to her,
she is so light and small, and then she cannot escape; and, while she is
away, we will make haste and prepare the state-room under the marsh, in
which you are to live when you are married."
Far out in the stream grew a number of water lilies, with broad green
leaves, which seemed to float on the top of the water. The largest of these
leaves appeared farther off than the rest, and the old toad swam out to it
with the walnut-shell, in which little Tiny lay still asleep. The tiny
little creature woke very early in the morning, and began to cry bitterly
when she found where she was, for she could see nothing but water on every
side of the large green leaf, and no way of reaching the land. Meanwhile the
old toad was very busy under the marsh, decking her room with rushes and
wild yellow flowers, to make it look pretty for her new daughter-in-law.
Then she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf on which she had placed poor
little Tiny. She wanted to fetch the pretty bed, that she might put it in
the bridal chamber to be ready for her. The old toad bowed low to her in the
water, and said, "Here is my son, he will be your husband, and you will live
happily in the marsh by the stream."
"Croak, croak, croak," was all her son could say for himself; so the toad
took up the elegant little bed, and swam away with it, leaving Tiny all
alone on the green leaf, where she sat and wept. She could not bear to think
of living with the old toad, and having her ugly son for a husband. The
little fishes, who swam about in the water beneath, had seen the toad, and
heard what she said, so they lifted their heads above the water to look at
the little maiden. As soon as they caught sight of her, they saw she was
very pretty, and it made them very sorry to think that she must go and live
with the ugly toads. "No, it must never be!" so they assembled together in
the water, round the green stalk which held the leaf on which the little
maiden stood, and gnawed it away at the root with their teeth. Then the leaf
floated down the stream, carrying Tiny far away out of reach of land.
Tiny sailed past many towns, and the little birds in the bushes saw her, and
sang, "What a lovely little creature;" so the leaf swam away with her
farther and farther, till it brought her to other lands. A graceful little
white butterfly constantly fluttered round her, and at last alighted on the
leaf. Tiny pleased him, and she was glad of it, for now the toad could not
possibly reach her, and the country through which she sailed was beautiful,
and the sun shone upon the water, till it glittered like liquid gold. She
took off her girdle and tied one end of it round the butterfly, and the
other end of the ribbon she fastened to the leaf, which now glided on much
faster than ever, taking little Tiny with it as she stood. Presently a large
cockchafer flew by; the moment he caught sight of her, he seized her round
her delicate waist with his claws, and flew with her into a tree. The green
leaf floated away on the brook, and the butterfly flew with it, for he was
fastened to it, and could not get away.
Oh, how frightened little Tiny felt when the cockchafer flew with her to the
tree! But especially was she sorry for the beautiful white butterfly which
she had fastened to the leaf, for if he could not free himself he would die
of hunger. But the cockchafer did not trouble himself at all about the
matter. He seated himself by her side on a large green leaf, gave her some
honey from the flowers to eat, and told her she was very pretty, though not
in the least like a cockchafer. After a time, all the cockchafers turned up
their feelers, and said, "She has only two legs! How ugly that looks." "She
has no feelers," said another. "Her waist is quite slim. Pooh! She is like a
human being."
"Oh! She is ugly," said all the lady cockchafers, although Tiny was very
pretty. Then the cockchafer who had run away with her, believed all the
others when they said she was ugly, and would have nothing more to say to
her, and told her she might go where she liked. Then he flew down with her
from the tree, and placed her on a daisy, and she wept at the thought that
she was so ugly that even the cockchafers would have nothing to say to her.
And all the while she was really the loveliest creature that one could
imagine, and as tender and delicate as a beautiful roseleaf.
During the whole summer poor little Tiny lived quite alone in the wide
forest. She wove herself a bed with blades of grass, and hung it up under a
broad leaf, to protect herself from the rain. She sucked the honey from the
flowers for food, and drank the dew from their leaves every morning. So
passed away the summer and the autumn, and then came the winter,- the long,
cold winter. All the birds who had sung to her so sweetly were flown away,
and the trees and the flowers had withered. The large cloverleaf under the
shelter of which she had lived, was now rolled together and shriveled up,
nothing remained but a yellow withered stalk.
She felt dreadfully cold, for her clothes were torn, and she was herself so
frail and delicate, that poor little Tiny was nearly frozen to death. It
began to snow too; and the snowflakes, as they fell upon her, were like a
whole shovelful falling upon one of us, for we are tall, but she was only an
inch high. Then she wrapped herself up in a dry leaf, but it cracked in the
middle and could not keep her warm, and she shivered with cold. Near the
wood in which she had been living lay a cornfield, but the corn had been cut
a long time; nothing remained but the bare dry stubble standing up out of
the frozen ground. It was to her like struggling through a large wood. Oh!
How she shivered with the cold. She came at last to the door of a field
mouse, who had a little den under the corn-stubble. There dwelt the field
mouse in warmth and comfort, with a whole roomful of corn, a kitchen, and a
beautiful dining room. Poor little Tiny stood before the door just like a
little beggar-girl, and begged for a small piece of barleycorn, for she had
been without a morsel to eat for two days.
"You poor little creature," said the field-mouse, who was really a good old
field-mouse, "come into my warm room and dine with me." She was very pleased
with Tiny, so she said, "You are quite welcome to stay with me all the
winter, if you like; but you must keep my rooms clean and neat, and tell me
stories, for I shall like to hear them very much." And Tiny did all the
field mouse asked her, and found herself very comfortable.
"We shall have a visitor soon," said the field-mouse one day; "my neighbor
pays me a visit once a week. He is better off than I am; he has large rooms,
and wears a beautiful black velvet coat. If you could only have him for a
husband, you would be well provided for indeed. But he is blind, so you must
tell him some of your prettiest stories.
But Tiny did not feel at all interested about this neighbor, for he was a
mole. However, he came and paid his visit dressed in his black velvet coat.
"He is very rich and learned, and his house is twenty times larger than
mine," said the field mouse.
He was rich and learned, no doubt, but he always spoke slightingly of the
sun and the pretty flowers, because he had never seen them. Tiny was obliged
to sing to him, "Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home," and many other pretty
songs. And the mole fell in love with her because she had such a sweet
voice; but he said nothing yet, for he was very cautious. A short time
before, the mole had dug a long passage under the earth, which led from the
dwelling of the field mouse to his own, and here she had permission to walk
with Tiny whenever she liked. But he warned them not to be alarmed at the
sight of a dead bird which lay in the passage. It was a perfect bird, with a
beak and feathers, and could not have been dead long, and was lying just
where the mole had made his passage. The mole took a piece of phosphorescent
wood in his mouth, and it glittered like fire in the dark; then he went
before them to light them through the long, dark passage.
When they came to the spot where lay the dead bird, the mole pushed his
broad nose through the ceiling, the earth gave way, so that there was a
large hole, and the daylight shone into the passage. In the middle of the
floor lay a dead swallow, his beautiful wings pulled close to his sides, his
feet and his head drawn up under his feathers; the poor bird had evidently
died of the cold. It made little Tiny very sad to see it, she did so love
the little birds; all the summer they had sung and twittered for her so
beautifully. But the mole pushed it aside with his crooked legs, and said,
"He will sing no more now. How miserable it must be to be born a little
bird! I am thankful that none of my children will ever be birds, for they
can do nothing but cry, 'Tweet, tweet,' and always die of hunger in the
winter."
"Yes, you may well say that, as a clever man!" exclaimed the field-mouse,
"What is the use of his twittering, for when winter comes he must either
starve or be frozen to death. Still birds are very high bred."
Tiny said nothing; but when the two others had turned their backs on the
bird, she stooped down and stroked aside the soft feathers which covered the
head, and kissed the closed eyelids. "Perhaps this was the one who sang to
me so sweetly in the summer," she said; "and how much pleasure it gave me,
you dear, pretty bird."
The mole now stopped up the hole through which the daylight shone, and then
accompanied the lady home. But during the night Tiny could not sleep; so she
got out of bed and wove a large, beautiful carpet of hay; then she carried
it to the dead bird, and spread it over him; with some down from the flowers
which she had found in the field-mouse's room. It was as soft as wool, and
she spread some of it on each side of the bird, so that he might lie warmly
in the cold earth. "Farewell, you pretty little bird," said she, "farewell;
thank you for your delightful singing during the summer, when all the trees
were green, and the warm sun shone upon us. Then she laid her head on the
bird's breast, but she was alarmed immediately, for it seemed as if
something inside the bird went "thump, thump." It was the bird's heart; he
was not really dead, only benumbed with the cold, and the warmth had
restored him to life.
In autumn, all the swallows fly away into warm countries, but if one happens
to linger, the cold seizes it, it becomes frozen, and falls down as if dead;
it remains where it fell, and the cold snow covers it. Tiny trembled very
much; she was quite frightened, for the bird was large, a great deal larger
than herself,- she was only an inch high. But she took courage, laid the
wool more thickly over the poor swallow, and then took a leaf which she had
used for her own counterpane, and laid it over the head of the poor bird.
The next morning she again stole out to see him. He was alive but very weak;
he could only open his eyes for a moment to look at Tiny, who stood by
holding a piece of decayed wood in her hand, for she had no other lantern.
"Thank you, pretty little maiden," said the sick swallow; "I have been so
nicely warmed, that I shall soon regain my strength, and be able to fly
about again in the warm sunshine."
"Oh," said she, "it is cold out of doors now; it snows and freezes. Stay in
your warm bed; I will take care of you."
Then she brought the swallow some water in a flower-leaf, and after he had
drank, he told her that he had wounded one of his wings in a thorn-bush, and
could not fly as fast as the others, who were soon far away on their journey
to warm countries. Then at last he had fallen to the earth, and could
remember no more, nor how he came to be where she had found him. The whole
winter the swallow remained underground, and Tiny nursed him with care and
love. Neither the mole nor the field mouse knew anything about it, for they
did not like swallows. Very soon the springtime came, and the sun warmed the
earth. Then the swallow bade farewell to Tiny, and she opened the hole in
the ceiling which the mole had made. The sun shone in upon them so
beautifully, that the swallow asked her if she would go with him; she could
sit on his back, he said, and he would fly away with her into the green
woods. But Tiny knew it would make the field-mouse very grieved if she left
her in that manner, so she said, "No, I cannot."
"Farewell, then, farewell, you good, pretty little maiden," said the
swallow; and he flew out into the sunshine.
Tiny looked after him, and the tears rose in her eyes. She was very fond of
the poor swallow.
"Tweet, tweet," sang the bird, as he flew out into the green woods, and Tiny
felt very sad. She was not allowed to go out into the warm sunshine. The
corn which had been sown in the field over the house of the field mouse had
grown up high into the air, and formed a thick wood to Tiny, who was only an
inch in height.
"You are going to be married, Tiny," said the field mouse. "My neighbor has
asked for you. What good fortune for a poor child like you. Now we will
prepare your wedding clothes. They must be both woolen and linen. Nothing
must be wanting when you are the mole's wife."
Tiny had to turn the spindle, and the field mouse hired four spiders, who
were to weave day and night. Every evening the mole visited her, and was
continually speaking of the time when the summer would be over. Then he
would keep his wedding-day with Tiny; but now the heat of the sun was so
great that it burned the earth, and made it quite hard, like a stone. As
soon, as the summer was over, the wedding should take place. But Tiny was
not at all pleased; for she did not like the tiresome mole. Every morning
when the sun rose, and every evening when it went down, she would creep out
at the door, and as the wind blew aside the ears of corn, so that she could
see the blue sky, she thought how beautiful and bright it seemed out there,
and wished so much to see her dear swallow again. But he never returned; for
by this time he had flown far away into the lovely green forest.
When autumn arrived, Tiny had her outfit quite ready; and the field mouse
said to her, "In four weeks the wedding must take place."
Then Tiny wept, and said she would not marry the disagreeable mole.
"Nonsense," replied the field mouse. "Now don't be obstinate, or I shall
bite you with my white teeth. He is a very handsome mole; the queen herself
does not wear more beautiful velvets and furs. His kitchen and cellars are
quite full. You ought to be very thankful for such good fortune."
So the wedding-day was fixed, on which the mole was to fetch Tiny away to
live with him, deep under the earth, and never again to see the warm sun,
because he did not like it. The poor child was very unhappy at the thought
of saying farewell to the beautiful sun, and as the field mouse had given
her permission to stand at the door, she went to look at it once more.
"Farewell bright sun," she cried, stretching out her arm towards it; and
then she walked a short distance from the house; for the corn had been cut,
and only the dry stubble remained in the fields. "Farewell, farewell," she
repeated, twining her arm round a little red flower that grew just by her
side. "Greet the little swallow from me, if you should see him again."
"Tweet, tweet," sounded over her head suddenly. She looked up, and there was
the swallow himself flying close by. As soon as he spied Tiny, he was
delighted; and then she told him how unwilling she felt to marry the ugly
mole, and to live always beneath the earth, and never to see the bright sun
any more. And as she told him she wept.
"Cold winter is coming," said the swallow, "and I am going to fly away into
warmer countries. Will you go with me? You can sit on my back, and fasten
yourself on with your sash. Then we can fly away from the ugly mole and his
gloomy rooms,- far away, over the mountains, into warmer countries, where
the sun shines more brightly- than here; where it is always summer, and the
flowers bloom in greater beauty. Fly now with me, dear little Tiny; you
saved my life when I lay frozen in that dark passage."
"Yes, I will go with you," said Tiny; and she seated herself on the bird's
back, with her feet on his outstretched wings, and tied her girdle to one of
his strongest feathers.
Then the swallow rose in the air, and flew over forest and over sea, high
above the highest mountains, covered with eternal snow. Tiny would have been
frozen in the cold air, but she crept under the bird's warm feathers,
keeping her little head uncovered, so that she might admire the beautiful
lands over which they passed. At length they reached the warm countries,
where the sun shines brightly, and the sky seems so much higher above the
earth. Here, on the hedges, and by the wayside, grew purple, green, and
white grapes; lemons and oranges hung from trees in the woods; and the air
was fragrant with myrtle and orange blossoms. Beautiful children ran along
the country lanes, playing with large gay butterflies; and as the swallow
flew farther and farther, every place appeared still more lovely.
At last they came to a blue lake, and by the side of it, shaded by trees of
the deepest green, stood a palace of dazzling white marble, built in the
olden times. Vines clustered round its lofty pillars, and at the top were
many swallows' nests, and one of these was the home of the swallow who
carried Tiny.
"This is my house," said the swallow; "but it would not do for you to live
there- you would not be comfortable. You must choose for yourself one of
those lovely flowers, and I will put you down upon it, and then you shall
have everything that you can wish to make you happy."
"That will be delightful," she said, and clapped her little hands for joy.
A large marble pillar lay on the ground, which, in falling, had been broken
into three pieces. Between these pieces grew the most beautiful large white
flowers; so the swallow flew down with Tiny, and placed her on one of the
broad leaves. But how surprised she was to see in the middle of the flower,
a tiny little man, as white and transparent as if he had been made of
crystal! He had a gold crown on his head, and delicate wings at his
shoulders, and was not much larger than Tiny herself. He was the angel of
the flower; for a tiny man and a tiny woman dwell in every flower; and this
was the king of them all.
"Oh, how beautiful he is!" whispered Tiny to the swallow.
The little prince was at first quite frightened at the bird, who was like a
giant, compared to such a delicate little creature as himself; but when he
saw Tiny, he was delighted, and thought her the prettiest little maiden he
had ever seen. He took the gold crown from his head, and placed it on hers,
and asked her name, and if she would be his wife, and queen over all the
flowers.
This certainly was a very different sort of husband to the son of a toad, or
the mole, with my black velvet and fur; so she said, "Yes," to the handsome
prince. Then all the flowers opened, and out of each came a little lady or a
tiny lord, all so pretty it was quite a pleasure to look at them. Each of
them brought Tiny a present; but the best gift was a pair of beautiful
wings, which had belonged to a large white fly and they fastened them to
Tiny's shoulders, so that she might fly from flower to flower. Then there
was much rejoicing, and the little swallow who sat above them, in his nest,
was asked to sing a wedding song, which he did as well as he could; but in
his heart he felt sad for he was very fond of Tiny, and would have liked
never to part from her again.
"You must not be called Tiny any more," said the spirit of the flowers to
her. "It is an ugly name, and you are so very pretty. We will call you
Maia."
"Farewell, farewell," said the swallow, with a heavy heart as he left the
warm countries to fly back into Denmark. There he had a nest over the window
of a house in which dwelt the writer of fairy tales. The swallow sang,
"Tweet, tweet," and from his song came the whole story.