FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS

                                       1872

                     FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

                              LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS

                           by Hans Christian Andersen

    "My 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.

                            THE END