The Fir Tree
: Hans Andersens Fairy Tales
FAR away in the forest, where the warm sun and the fresh air made a
sweet resting place, grew a pretty little fir tree. The situation was
all that could be desired; and yet the tree was not happy, it wished so
much to be like its tall companions, the pines and firs which grew
The sun shone, and the soft air fluttered its leaves, and the little
peasant children passed by, prattling merrily; but
he fir tree did not
Sometimes the children would bring a large basket of raspberries or
strawberries, wreathed on straws, and seat themselves near the fir
tree, and say, "Is it not a pretty little tree?" which made it feel even
more unhappy than before.
And yet all this while the tree grew a notch or joint taller every year,
for by the number of joints in the stem of a fir tree we can discover
Still, as it grew, it complained: "Oh! how I wish I were as tall as the
other trees; then I would spread out my branches on every side, and my
crown would overlook the wide world around. I should have the birds
building their nests on my boughs, and when the wind blew, I should bow
with stately dignity, like my tall companions."
So discontented was the tree, that it took no pleasure in the warm
sunshine, the birds, or the rosy clouds that floated over it morning and
Sometimes in winter, when the snow lay white and glittering on the
ground, there was a little hare that would come springing along, and
jump right over the little tree's head; then how mortified it would
Two winters passed; and when the third arrived, the tree had grown so
tall that the hare was obliged to run round it. Yet it remained
unsatisfied and would exclaim: "Oh! to grow, to grow; if I could but
keep on growing tall and old! There is nothing else worth caring for in
In the autumn the woodcutters came, as usual, and cut down several of
the tallest trees; and the young fir, which was now grown to a good,
full height, shuddered as the noble trees fell to the earth with a
After the branches were lopped off, the trunks looked so slender and
bare that they could scarcely be recognized. Then they were placed, one
upon another, upon wagons and drawn by horses out of the forest. Where
could they be going? What would become of them? The young fir tree
wished very much to know.
So in the spring, when the swallows and the storks came, it asked: "Do
you know where those trees were taken? Did you meet them?"
The swallows knew nothing; but the stork, after a little reflection,
nodded his head and said: "Yes, I think I do. As I flew from Egypt, I
met several new ships, and they had fine masts that smelt like fir.
These must have been the trees; and I assure you they were stately; they
sailed right gloriously!"
"Oh, how I wish I were tall enough to go on the sea," said the fir tree.
"Tell me what is this sea, and what does it look like?"
"It would take too much time to explain--a great deal too much," said
the stork, flying quickly away.
"Rejoice in thy youth," said the sunbeam; "rejoice in thy fresh growth
and in the young life that is in thee."
And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew watered it with tears, but the
fir tree regarded them not.
* * * * *
Christmas time drew near, and many young trees were cut down, some that
were even smaller and younger than the fir tree, who enjoyed neither
rest nor peace for longing to leave its forest home. These young trees,
which were chosen for their beauty, kept their branches, and they, also,
were laid on wagons and drawn by horses far away out of the forest.
"Where are they going?" asked the fir tree. "They are not taller than I
am; indeed, one is not so tall. And why do they keep all their branches?
Where are they going?"
"We know, we know," sang the sparrows; "we have looked in at the windows
of the houses in the town, and we know what is done with them. Oh! you
cannot think what honor and glory they receive. They are dressed up in
the most splendid manner. We have seen them standing in the middle of a
warm room, and adorned with all sorts of beautiful things--honey cakes,
gilded apples, playthings, and many hundreds of wax tapers."
"And then," asked the fir tree, trembling in all its branches, "and then
"We did not see any more," said the sparrows; "but this was enough for
"I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me," thought
the fir tree. "It would be better even than crossing the sea. I long for
it almost with pain. Oh, when will Christmas be here? I am now as tall
and well grown as those which were taken away last year. O that I were
now laid on the wagon, or standing in the warm room with all that
brightness and splendor around me! Something better and more beautiful
is to come after, or the trees would not be so decked out. Yes, what
follows will be grander and more splendid. What can it be? I am weary
with longing. I scarcely know what it is that I feel."
"Rejoice in our love," said the air and the sunlight. "Enjoy thine own
bright life in the fresh air."
But the tree would not rejoice, though it grew taller every day, and
winter and summer its dark-green foliage might be seen in the forest,
while passers-by would say, "What a beautiful tree!"
A short time before the next Christmas the discontented fir tree was the
first to fall. As the ax cut sharply through the stem and divided the
pith, the tree fell with a groan to the earth, conscious of pain and
faintness and forgetting all its dreams of happiness in sorrow at
leaving its home in the forest. It knew that it should never again see
its dear old companions the trees, nor the little bushes and
many-colored flowers that had grown by its side; perhaps not even the
birds. Nor was the journey at all pleasant.
The tree first recovered itself while being unpacked in the courtyard of
a house, with several other trees; and it heard a man say: "We only want
one, and this is the prettiest. This is beautiful!"
Then came two servants in grand livery and carried the fir tree into a
large and beautiful apartment. Pictures hung on the walls, and near the
tall tile stove stood great china vases with lions on the lids. There
were rocking-chairs, silken sofas, and large tables covered with
pictures; and there were books, and playthings that had cost a hundred
times a hundred dollars--at least so said the children.
Then the fir tree was placed in a large tub full of sand--but green
baize hung all round it so that no one could know it was a tub--and it
stood on a very handsome carpet. Oh, how the fir tree trembled! What was
going to happen to him now? Some young ladies came, and the servants
helped them to adorn the tree.
On one branch they hung little bags cut out of colored paper, and each
bag was filled with sweetmeats. From other branches hung gilded apples
and walnuts, as if they had grown there; and above and all around were
hundreds of red, blue, and white tapers, which were fastened upon the
branches. Dolls, exactly like real men and women, were placed under the
green leaves,--the tree had never seen such things before,--and at the
very top was fastened a glittering star made of gold tinsel. Oh, it was
very beautiful. "This evening," they all exclaimed, "how bright it will
"O that the evening were come," thought the tree, "and the tapers
lighted! Then I shall know what else is going to happen. Will the trees
of the forest come to see me? Will the sparrows peep in at the windows,
I wonder, as they fly? Shall I grow faster here than in the forest, and
shall I keep on all these ornaments during summer and winter?" But
guessing was of very little use. His back ached with trying, and this
pain is as bad for a slender fir tree as headache is for us.
At last the tapers were lighted, and then what a glistening blaze of
splendor the tree presented! It trembled so with joy in all its branches
that one of the candles fell among the green leaves and burned some of
them. "Help! help!" exclaimed the young ladies; but no harm was done,
for they quickly extinguished the fire.
After this the tree tried not to tremble at all, though the fire
frightened him, he was so anxious not to hurt any of the beautiful
ornaments, even while their brilliancy dazzled him.
And now the folding doors were thrown open, and a troop of children
rushed in as if they intended to upset the tree, and were followed more
slowly by their elders. For a moment the little ones stood silent with
astonishment, and then they shouted for joy till the room rang; and they
danced merrily round the tree while one present after another was taken
"What are they doing? What will happen next?" thought the tree. At last
the candles burned down to the branches and were put out. Then the
children received permission to plunder the tree.
Oh, how they rushed upon it! There was such a riot that the branches
cracked, and had it not been fastened with the glistening star to the
ceiling, it must have been thrown down.
Then the children danced about with their pretty toys, and no one
noticed the tree except the children's maid, who came and peeped among
the branches to see if an apple or a fig had been forgotten.
* * * * *
"A story, a story," cried the children, pulling a little fat man towards
"Now we shall be in the green shade," said the man as he seated himself
under it, "and the tree will have the pleasure of hearing, also; but I
shall only relate one story. What shall it be? Ivede-Avede or Humpty
Dumpty, who fell downstairs, but soon got up again, and at last married
"Ivede-Avede," cried some; "Humpty Dumpty," cried others; and there was
a famous uproar. But the fir tree remained quite still and thought to
himself: "Shall I have anything to do with all this? Ought I to make a
noise, too?" but he had already amused them as much as they wished and
they paid no attention to him.
Then the old man told them the story of Humpty Dumpty--how he fell
downstairs, and was raised up again, and married a princess. And the
children clapped their hands and cried, "Tell another, tell another,"
for they wanted to hear the story of Ivede-Avede; but this time they had
only "Humpty Dumpty." After this the fir tree became quite silent and
thoughtful. Never had the birds in the forest told such tales as that of
Humpty Dumpty, who fell downstairs, and yet married a princess.
"Ah, yes! so it happens in the world," thought the fir tree. He believed
it all, because it was related by such a pleasant man.
"Ah, well!" he thought, "who knows? Perhaps I may fall down, too, and
marry a princess;" and he looked forward joyfully to the next evening,
expecting to be again decked out with lights and playthings, gold and
fruit. "To-morrow I will not tremble," thought he; "I will enjoy all my
splendor, and I shall hear the story of Humpty Dumpty again, and perhaps
of Ivede-Avede." And the tree remained quiet and thoughtful all night.
In the morning the servants and the housemaid came in. "Now," thought
the fir tree, "all my splendor is going to begin again." But they
dragged him out of the room and upstairs to the garret and threw him on
the floor in a dark corner where no daylight shone, and there they left
him. "What does this mean?" thought the tree. "What am I to do here? I
can hear nothing in a place like this;" and he leaned against the wall
and thought and thought.
And he had time enough to think, for days and nights passed and no one
came near him; and when at last somebody did come, it was only to push
away some large boxes in a corner. So the tree was completely hidden
from sight, as if it had never existed.
"It is winter now," thought the tree; "the ground is hard and covered
with snow, so that people cannot plant me. I shall be sheltered here, I
dare say, until spring comes. How thoughtful and kind everybody is to
me! Still, I wish this place were not so dark and so dreadfully
lonely, with not even a little hare to look at. How pleasant it was
out in the forest while the snow lay on the ground, when the hare would
run by, yes, and jump over me, too, although I did not like it then. Oh!
it is terribly lonely here."
"Squeak, squeak," said a little mouse, creeping cautiously towards the
tree; then came another, and they both sniffed at the fir tree and crept
in and out between the branches.
"Oh, it is very cold," said the little mouse. "If it were not we should
be very comfortable here, shouldn't we, old fir tree?"
"I am not old," said the fir tree. "There are many who are older than I
"Where do you come from?" asked the mice, who were full of curiosity;
"and what do you know? Have you seen the most beautiful places in the
world, and can you tell us all about them? And have you been in the
storeroom, where cheeses lie on the shelf and hams hang from the
ceiling? One can run about on tallow candles there; one can go in thin
and come out fat."
"I know nothing of that," said the fir tree, "but I know the wood, where
the sun shines and the birds sing." And then the tree told the little
mice all about its youth. They had never heard such an account in their
lives; and after they had listened to it attentively, they said: "What a
number of things you have seen! You must have been very happy."
"Happy!" exclaimed the fir tree; and then, as he reflected on what he
had been telling them, he said, "Ah, yes! after all, those were happy
days." But when he went on and related all about Christmas Eve, and how
he had been dressed up with cakes and lights, the mice said, "How happy
you must have been, you old fir tree."
"I am not old at all," replied the tree; "I only came from the forest
this winter. I am now checked in my growth."
"What splendid stories you can tell," said the little mice. And the next
night four other mice came with them to hear what the tree had to tell.
The more he talked the more he remembered, and then he thought to
himself: "Yes, those were happy days; but they may come again. Humpty
Dumpty fell downstairs, and yet he married the princess. Perhaps I may
marry a princess, too." And the fir tree thought of the pretty little
birch tree that grew in the forest; a real princess, a beautiful
princess, she was to him.
"Who is Humpty Dumpty?" asked the little mice. And then the tree related
the whole story; he could remember every single word. And the little
mice were so delighted with it that they were ready to jump to the top
of the tree. The next night a great many more mice made their
appearance, and on Sunday two rats came with them; but the rats said it
was not a pretty story at all, and the little mice were very sorry, for
it made them also think less of it.
"Do you know only that one story?" asked the rats.
"Only that one," replied the fir tree. "I heard it on the happiest
evening in my life; but I did not know I was so happy at the time."
"We think it is a very miserable story," said the rats. "Don't you know
any story about bacon or tallow in the storeroom?"
"No," replied the tree.
"Many thanks to you, then," replied the rats, and they went their ways.
The little mice also kept away after this, and the tree sighed and said:
"It was very pleasant when the merry little mice sat round me and
listened while I talked. Now that is all past, too. However, I shall
consider myself happy when some one comes to take me out of this place."
But would this ever happen? Yes; one morning people came to clear up the
garret; the boxes were packed away, and the tree was pulled out of the
corner and thrown roughly on the floor; then the servants dragged it out
upon the staircase, where the daylight shone.
"Now life is beginning again," said the tree, rejoicing in the sunshine
and fresh air. Then it was carried downstairs and taken into the
courtyard so quickly that it forgot to think of itself and could only
look about, there was so much to be seen.
The court was close to a garden, where everything looked blooming. Fresh
and fragrant roses hung over the little palings. The linden trees were
in blossom, while swallows flew here and there, crying, "Twit, twit,
twit, my mate is coming"; but it was not the fir tree they meant.
"Now I shall live," cried the tree joyfully, spreading out its branches;
but alas! they were all withered and yellow, and it lay in a corner
among weeds and nettles. The star of gold paper still stuck in the top
of the tree and glittered in the sunshine.
Two of the merry children who had danced round the tree at Christmas and
had been so happy were playing in the same courtyard. The youngest saw
the gilded star and ran and pulled it off the tree. "Look what is
sticking to the ugly old fir tree," said the child, treading on the
branches till they crackled under his boots.
And the tree saw all the fresh, bright flowers in the garden and then
looked at itself and wished it had remained in the dark corner of the
garret. It thought of its fresh youth in the forest, of the merry
Christmas evening, and of the little mice who had listened to the story
of Humpty Dumpty.
"Past! past!" said the poor tree. "Oh, had I but enjoyed myself while I
could have done so! but now it is too late."
Then a lad came and chopped the tree into small pieces, till a large
bundle lay in a heap on the ground. The pieces were placed in a fire,
and they quickly blazed up brightly, while the tree sighed so deeply
that each sigh was like a little pistol shot. Then the children who were
at play came and seated themselves in front of the fire, and looked at
it and cried, "Pop, pop." But at each "pop," which was a deep sigh, the
tree was thinking of a summer day in the forest or of some winter night
there when the stars shone brightly, and of Christmas evening, and of
Humpty Dumpty,--the only story it had ever heard or knew how to
relate,--till at last it was consumed.
The boys still played in the garden, and the youngest wore on his breast
the golden star with which the tree had been adorned during the happiest
evening of its existence. Now all was past; the tree's life was past and
the story also past--for all stories must come to an end at some time or