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In the United States we know this story as the one with the tiny girl named "Thumbelina."
However, in other countries she is sometimes called "Thumbelisa" thus, the reason for
the title graphic, this story is transcribed from a Danish version.
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There was once a woman who had the greatest longing
for a little tiny child, but she had no idea where to get
one; so she went to an old witch and said to her, "I do
so long to have a little child, will you tell me where I can get
one?"
"Oh, we shall be able to manage that," said the witch.
"Here is a barley corn for you; it is not at all the same kind
as that which grows in the peasant's field, or with which chickens
are fed; plant it in a flower pot and you will see what will appear."
"Thank you, oh, thank you!" said the woman, and she
gave the witch twelve pennies, then went home and planted
the barley corn, and a large, handsome flower sprang up at
once; it looked exactly like a tulip, but the petals were tightly
shut up, just as if they were still in bud. "That is a lovely
flower," said the woman, and she kissed the pretty red and
yellow petals; as she kissed it the flower burst open with a
loud snap. It was a real tulip, you could see that; but right
in the middle of the flower on the green stool sat a little tiny girl, most lovely and delicate; she was not more than an inch
in height, so she was called Thumbelina.
Her cradle was a smartly varnished walnut shell, with the
blue petals of violets for a mattress and a rose-leaf to cover
her; she slept in it at night, but during the day she played
about on the table where the woman had placed a plate, sur-
rounded by a wreath of flowers on the outer edge with their
stalks in water. A large tulip petal floated on the water
and on this little Thumbelina sat and sailed about from one
side of the plate to the other; she had two white horsehairs
for oars. It was a pretty sight. She could sing, too, with
such delicacy and charm as was never heard before.
One night as she lay in her pretty bed, a great ugly toad
hopped in at the window for there was a broken pane. Ugh!
how hideous that great wet toad was; it hopped right down
on to the table where Thumbelina lay fast asleep, under the
red rose-leaf.
"Here is a lovely wife for my son," said the toad, and then
she took up the walnut shell where Thumbelina slept and
hopped away with it through the window, down into the garden.
A great broad stream ran through it, but just at the edge it
was swampy and muddy, and it was here that the toad lived
with her son. Ugh ! how ugly and hideous he was too, exactly
like his mother. "Koax, koax, brekke-ke-kex," that was all
he had to say when he saw the lovely little girl in the walnut
shell.
"Do not talk so loud or you will wake her," said the old
toad; "she might escape us yet, for she is as light as thistle-
dow^n! We will put her on one of the broad water-lily leaves
out in the stream; it will be just like an island to her, she is so
small and light. She won't be able to run away from there
while we get the stateroom ready down under the mud, which
you are to inhabit."
A great many water lilies grew in the stream, their broad
green leaves looked as if they were floating on the surface of the water. The leaf which was farthest from the shore was
also the biggest and to this one the old toad swam out with
the walnut shell in which little Thumbelina lay.
The poor, tiny little creature woke up quite early in the
morning, and when she saw where she was she began to cry
most bitterly, for there was water on every side of the big
green leaf, and she could not reach the land at any point.
The old toad sat in the mud decking out her abode with
grasses and the buds of the yellow water lilies, so as to have
it very nice for the new daughter-in-law, and then she swam
out with her ugly son to the leaf where Thumbelina stood;
they wanted to fetch her pretty bed to place it in the bridal
chamber before they took her there. The old toad made a
deep curtsey in the water before her, and said, "Here is my
son, who is to be your husband, and you are to live together
most comfortably down in the nmd."
"Koax, koax, brekke-ke-kex," that was all the son could
say.
Then they took the pretty little bed and swam away with
it, but Thumbelina sat quite alone on the green leaf and cried
because she did not want to live with the ugly toad, or have
her horrid son for a husband. The little fish which swam
about in the water had no doubt seen the toad and heard
what she said, so they stuck their heads up, wishing, I suppose,
to see the little girl. As soon as they saw her, they were delighted
with her, and were quite grieved to think that she was to go
down to live with the ugly toad. No, that should never happen.
They flocked together down in the water round about the green
stem which held the leaf she stood upon, and gnawed at it with
their teeth till it floated away down the stream carrying Thumbelina away where the toad could not follow her.
Thumbelina sailed past place after place, and the little
birds in the bushes saw her and sang, "what a lovely little
maid." The leaf with her on it floated farther and farther
away and in this manner reached foreign lands.
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| Thumbelina floats away from the toad... |
A pretty little white butterfly fluttered round and round
her for some time and at last settled on the leaf, for it had
taken quite a fancy to Thumbelina: she was so happy now,
because the toad could not reach her and she was sailing through
such lovely scenes; the sun shone on the water and it looked
like liquid gold. Then she took her sash and tied one end
round the butterfly, and the other she made fast to the leaf
which went gliding on quicker and quicker, and she with it,
for she was standing on the leaf.
At this moment a big cockchafer came flying along; he
caught sight of her and in an instant he fixed his claw round
her slender waist and flew off with her up into a tree, but the
green leaf floated down the stream and the butterfly with it,
for he was tied to it and could not get loose.
Heavens! how frightened poor little Thumbelina was when
the cockchafer carried her up into the tree, but she was most
of all grieved about the pretty white butterfly which she had
fastened to the leaf; if he could not succeed in getting loose
he would be starved to death.
But the cockchafer cared nothing for that. He settled
with her on the largest leaf on the tree, and fed her with honey
from the flowers, and he said that she was lovely although
she was not a bit like a chafer. Presently all the other chafers
which lived in the tree came to visit them; they looked at
Thumbelina and the young lady chafers twitched their feelers
and said, "She has also got two legs, what a good effect it has."
"She has no feelers," said another. "She is so slender in the
waist, fie, she looks like a human being." "How ugly she is,"
said all the mother chafers, and yet little Thumbelina was so
pretty. That was certainly also the opinion of the cockchafer
who had captured her, but when all the others said she was ugly,
he at last began to believe it, too, and would not have anything
more to do with her, she might go wherever she liked! They
flew down from the tree with her and placed her on a daisy,
where she cried because she was so ugly that the chafers would
She was so happy now, because the toad could not reach her
and she was sailing through such lovely scenes have nothing to do with her; and, after all, she was more beautiful than anything you could imagine, as delicate and trans-
parent as the finest rose-leaf.
Poor little Thumbelina lived all the summer quite alone
in the wood. She plaited a bed of grass for herself and hung
it up under a big dock-leaf which sheltered her from the rain;
she sucked the honey from the flowers for her food, and her drink
was" the dew which lay on the leaves in the morning. In this
way the summer and autumn passed, but then came the winter.
All the birds which used to sing so sweetly to her flew away,
the great dock-leaf under which she had lived shriveled up,
leaving nothing but a dead yellow stalk, and she shivered with
the cold, for her clothes were worn out; she was such a tiny
creature, poor little Thumbelina, she certainly must be frozen
to death. It began to snow and every snowflake which fell
upon her was like a whole shovelful upon one of us, for we are
big and she was only one inch in height. Then she wrapped
herself up in a withered leaf, but that did not warm her much,
she trembled with the cold.
Close to the wood in which she had been living lay a large
cornfield, but the corn had long ago been carried away and
nothing remained but the bare, dry stubble which stood up
out of the frozen ground. The stubble was quite a forest for
her to walk about in: oh, how she shook with the cold. Then
she came to the door of a field-mouse's home. It was a little
hole down under the stubble. The field-mouse lived so cosily
and warm there, her whole room was full of corn, and she
had a beautiful kitchen and larder besides. Poor Thumbelina
stood just inside the door like any other poor beggar child
and begged for a little piece of barley corn, for she had had
nothing to eat for two whole days.
"You poor little thing," said the field-mouse, for she was
at bottom a good old field-mouse. "Come into my warm
room and dine with me." Then, as she took a fancy to Thumbelina, she said, "You may with pleasure stay with me for the winter, but you must keep my room clean and tidy and tell
me stories, for I am very fond of them," and Thumbelina
did what the good old field-mouse desired and was on the
whole very comfortable.
"Now we shall soon have a visitor," said the field-mouse;
"my neighbor generally comes to see me every week-day.
He is even better housed than I am; his rooms are very large,
and he wears a most beautiful black velvet coat; if only you
could get him for husband you would indeed be well settled,
but he can't see. You must tell him all the most beautiful
stories you know."
But Thumbelina did not like this, and she would have
nothing to say to the neighbor, for he was a mole. He came
and paid a visit in his black velvet coat. He was very rich and
wise, said the field-mouse, and his home was twenty times
as large as hers; and he had much learning, but he did not like
the sun or the beautiful flowers, in fact he spoke slightingly
of them, for he had never seen them. Thumbelina had to sing
to him, and she sang both "Fly away, cockchafer" and "A
monk, he wandered through the meadow," then the mole fell
in love with her because of her sweet voice, but he did not
say anything, for he was of a discreet turn of mind.
He had just made a long tunnel through the ground from
his house to theirs, and he gave the field-mouse and Thumbelina
leave to walk in it whenever they liked. He told them not
to be afraid of the dead bird which was lying in the passage.
It was a whole bird with feathers and beak which had probably
died quite recently at the beginning of the winter and was
now entombed just where he had made his tunnel.
The mole took a piece of tinder-wood in his mouth, for
that shines like fire in the dark, and walked in front of them
to light them in the long dark passage; when they came to
the place where the dead bird lay, the mole thrust his broad
nose up to the roof and pushed the earth up so as to make
a big hole through which the daylight shone. In the middle of the floor lay a dead swallow, with its pretty wings closely
pressed to its sides, and the legs and head drawn in under
the feathers; no doubt the poor bird had died of cold. Thumbelina was so sorry for it; she loved all the little birds, for they
had twittered and sung so sweetly to her during the whole
summer; but the mole kicked it with his short legs and said,
"Now it will pipe no more! It must be a miserable fate to
be born a little bird! Thank heaven! no child of mine can
be a bird; a bird like that has nothing but its twitter and dies
of hunger in the winter."
"Yes, as a sensible man, you may well say that," said
the field-mouse. "What has a bird for all its twittering when
the cold weather comes. It has to hunger and freeze, but
then it must cut a dash."
Thumbelina did not say anything, but when the others
turned their backs to the bird, she stooped down and stroked
aside the feathers which lay over its head, and kissed its closed
eyes. "Perhaps it was this very bird which sang so sweetly
to me in the summer," she thought; "what pleasure it gave
me, the dear pretty bird."
The mole now closed up the hole which let in the daylight
and conducted the ladies to their home. Thumbelina could
not sleep at all in the night, so she got up out of her bed and
plaited a large handsome mat of hay and then she carried
it down and spread it all over the dead bird, and laid some soft
cotton wool which she had found in the field-mouse's room
close round its sides, so that it might have a warm bed on
the cold ground.
"Good-bye, you sweet little bird," said she, "good-bye,
and thank you for your sweet song through the summer when
all the trees were green and the sun shone warmly upon us."
Then she laid her head close up to the bird's breast, but was
quite startled at a sound, as if something was thumping inside
it. It was the bird's heart. It was not dead but lay in a
swoon, and now that it had been warmed it began to revive.
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| The fairy prince renames Thumbelina, "May." |
In the autumn all the swallows fly away to warm countries,
but if one happens to be belated, it feels the cold so much
that it falls down like a dead thing, and remains lying where
it falls till the snow covers it up. Thumbelina quite shook
with fright, for the bird was very, very big beside her, who was
only one inch high; but she gathered up her courage, packed
the wool closer round the poor bird, and fetched a leaf of mint
which she had herself for a, coverlet, and laid it over the bird's
head. The next night she stole down again to it and found
it alive but so feeble that it could only just open its eyes for
a moment to look at Thumbelina who stood with a bit of tinder-
wood in her hand, for she had no other lantern.
"Many, many thanks, you sweet child," said the sick
swallow to her; "you have warmed me beautifully. I shall
soon have strength to fly out into the warm sun again."
"Oh!" said she, "it is so cold outside, it snows and freezes,
stay in your warm bed, I will tend you." Then she brought
water to the swallow in a leaf, and when it had drunk some
it told her how it had torn its wing on a blackthorn bush,
and therefore could not fly as fast as the other swallows which
were taking flight then for the distant warm lands. At last
it fell down on the ground, but after that it remembered nothing
and did not in the least know how it had got into the tunnel.
It stayed there all the winter, and Thumbelina was good
to it and grew very fond of it. She did not tell either the mole
or the field-mouse anything about it, for they did not like the
poor unfortunate swallow.
As soon as the spring came and the warmth of the sun
penetrated the ground, the swallow said good-bye to Thumbelina,
who opened the hole which the mole had made above. The
sun streamed in deliciously upon them, and the swallow
asked if she would not go with him; she could sit upon his back
and they would fly far away into the green wood. But Thumbelina knew that it would grieve the old field-mouse if she left
her like that.
'No, I can't," said Thumbelina.
"Good-bye, good-bye, then, you kind pretty girl," said
the swallow, and flew out into the sunshine. Thumbelina
looked after him and her eyes filled with tears, for she was very
fond of the poor swallow.
"Tweet, tweet," sang the bird, and flew into the green
wood.
Thumbelina was very sad. She was not allowed to go
out into the warm sunshine at all; the corn which was sown
in the field near the field-mouse's house grew quite long; it
was a thick forest for the poor little girl who was only an inch
high.
"You must work at your trousseau this summer," said the
field-mouse to her, for their neighbor the tiresome mole in his
black velvet coat had asked her to marry him. "You shall
have both woolen and linen, you shall have wherewith to
clothe and cover yourself when you become the mole's wife."
Thumbelina had to turn the distaff and the field-mouse hired
four spiders to spin and weave day and night. The mole
paid a visit every evening, and he was always saying that when
the summer came to an end the sun would not shine nearly
so warmly, now it burnt the ground as hard as a stone. Yes,
when the summer was over he would celebrate his marriage;
but Thumbelina was not at all pleased, for she did not care a
bit for the tiresome mole. Every morning at sunrise and every
evening at sunset she used to steal out to the door, and when
the wind blew aside the tops of the cornstalks so that she could
see the blue sky, she thought how bright and lovely it was
out there, and wished so much to see the dear swallow again;
but it never came back; no doubt it was a long way off, flying
about in the beautiful green woods.
When the autumn came all Thumbelina's outfit was ready.
"In four weeks you must be married," said the field-
mouse to her. But Thumbelina cried and said that she would
not have the tiresome mole for a husband.
"Fiddle-dee-dee," said the field-mouse: "don't be obstinate
or I shall bite you with my white tooth. You are going to
have a splendid husband; the queen herself hasn't the equal
of his black velvet coat; both his kitchen and his cellar are
full. You should thank heaven for such a husband!"
So they were to be married; the mole had come to fetch
Thumbelina; she was to live deep down under the ground
with him, and never to go out into the warm sunshine, for
he could not bear it. The poor child was very sad at the
thought of bidding good-bye to the beautiful sun; while she
had been with the field-mouse she had at least been allowed
to look at it from the door.
"Good-bye, you bright sun," she said as she stretched out
her arms toward it and went a little way outside the field-
mouse's house, for now the harvest was over and only the
stubble remained.
"Good-bye, good-bye!" she said, and
threw her tiny arms round a little red flower growing there.
"Give my love to the dear swallow if you happen to see him."
"Tweet, tweet," she heard at this moment above her
head. She looked up; it was the swallow just passing. As
soon as it saw Thumbelina it was delighted; she told it how
unwilling she was to have the ugly mole for a husband, and
that she was to live deep down underground where the sun
never shone. She could not help crying about it.
"The cold winter is coming," said the swallow, "and I
am going to fly away to warm countries. Will you go with
me? You can sit upon my back! Tie yourself on with
your sash; then we will fly away from the ugly mole and
his dark cavern, far away over the mountains to those warm
countries where the sun shines with greater splendor than
here, where it is always summer and there are heaps of flowers. Do fly with me, you sweet little Thumbelina, who saved
my life when I lay frozen in the dark earthy passage."
"Yes, I will go with you," said Thumbelina, seating her-
self on the bird's back, with her feet on its outspread wings. She tied her band tightly to one of the strongest feathers, and
then the swallow flew away, high up in the air above forests
and lakes, high up above the biggest mountains where the snow
never melts; and Thumbelina shivered in the cold air, but
then she crept under the bird's warm feathers, and only stuck
out her little head to look at the beautiful sights beneath her.
Then at last they reached the warm countries. The sun
shone with a warmer glow than here; the sky was twice as
high, and the most beautiful green and blue grapes grew in
clusters on the banks and hedgerows. Oranges and lemons
hung in the woods, which were fragrant with myrtles and
sweet herbs, and beautiful children ran about the roads play-
ing with the large gorgeously colored butterflies. But the
swallow flew on and on, and the country grew more and more
beautiful. Under magnificent green trees on the shores of
the blue sea stood a dazzling white marble palace of ancient
date; vines wreathed themselves round the stately pillars.
At the head of these there were countless nests, and the swallow who carried Thumbelina lived in one of them.
"Here is my house," said the swallow; "but if you will
choose one of the gorgeous flowers growing down there, I will
place you in it, and you will live as happily as you can wish."
"That would be delightful," she said, and clapped her
little hands.
A great white marble column had fallen to the ground
and lay there broken in three pieces, but between these the
most lovely white flowers grew. The swallow flew down
with Thumbelina and put her upon one of the broad leaves;
what was her astonishment to find a little man in the middle
of the flower, as bright and transparent as if he had been made
of glass. He had a lovely golden crown upon his head and
the most beautiful bright wings upon his shoulders; he was
no bigger than Thumbelina. He was the angel of the flowers.
There was a similar little man or woman in every flower, but
he was the king of them all.
"Heavens, how beautiful he is," whispered Thumbelina
to the swallow. The little prince was quite frightened by
the swallow, for it was a perfect giant of a bird to him, he
who was so small and delicate, but when he saw Thumbelina
he was delighted; she was the very prettiest girl he had ever
seen. He therefore took the golden crown off his own head
and placed it on hers, and asked her name, and if she would
be his wife, and then she would be queen of the flowers! Yes,
he was certainly a very different kind of husband from the
toad's son, or the mole with his black velvet coat. So she
accepted the beautiful prince, and out of every flower stepped
a little lady or a gentleman so lovely that it was a pleasure to
look at them. Each one brought a gift to Thumbelina, but
the best of all was a pair of pretty wings from a large white fly;
they were fastened on to her back, and then she too could fly
from flower to flower. All was then delight and happiness,
but the swallow sat alone in his nest and sang to them as well
as he could, for his heart was heavy, he was so fond of Thumbelina himself, and would have wished never to part from her.
"You shall not be called Thumbelina," said the angel of
the flower to her; "that is such an ugly name, and you are
so pretty. "We will call you May."
"Good-bye, good-bye," said the swallow, and flew away
again from the warm countries, far away back to Denmark;
there he had a little nest above the window where the man
lived who wrote this story, and he sang his "tweet, tweet,"
to the man, and so we have the whole story. by Hans Christian Andersen.
