There were once five and twenty tin soldiers. They were brothers, for they had all been made out of the same old tin spoon. They all shouldered their muskets and looked straight before them. Their uniforms were very smart—red and blue—and very splendid. The first thing they heard in the world, when the lid was taken off the box in which they lay, was the words, “Tin soldiers!” These words were spoken by a little boy, who clapped his hands for joy. The soldiers had been given him because it was his birthday, and now he was setting them out on the table.
Each was exactly like the rest, except one, who had but one leg. He had been cast last of all, and there had not been quite enough tin to finish him; but he stood as firmly on his one leg as the others on their two, and it was he whose fortunes became so remarkable.
On the table on which the tin soldiers were being set out were many other toys, but the nicest of all was a pretty little castle made of cardboard. Through its tiny windows one could see right into the rooms. In front of the castle stood little trees, clustering round a small mirror which was meant to represent a transparent lake. Waxen swans swam on its surface, and it reflected their images.
All this was very pretty, but prettiest of all was a little lady who stood at the open door of the castle. She, too, was cut out of cardboard; but she had on a dress of the finest gauze, with a narrow blue ribbon over her shoulders like a scarf, fastened in the middle with a shining tinsel rose. The little lady was stretching out both her arms (for she was a dancer), and was lifting one leg so high that the soldier could see nothing of it. He thought that, like himself, she had but one leg.
“That would be just the wife for me,” thought he, “if she were not so grand; but she lives in a castle, while I have only a box, and there are five and twenty of us in that. It would be no place for her. Still, I must try to make her acquaintance.”
And so he lay down at full length behind a snuffbox on the table, where he could easily watch the dainty little lady, who continued to stand on one leg without losing her balance.
When the evening came, all the other tin soldiers were put away in their box, and the people of the house went to bed. Now the playthings began to play in their turn. They visited, fought battles, and gave balls. The tin soldiers rattled in their box, for they wanted to join the rest; but they could not lift the lid. The nutcrackers turned somersaults, and the slate-pencil ran about on the slate. There was such a din that the canary woke and began to speak, and in verse, too. The only ones who did not stir from their places were the Tin Soldier and the Lady Dancer. She still stood on tiptoe with outstretched arms, and he was just as persevering on his one leg; he never once turned his eyes away from her.
Twelve o’clock struck—crash! up sprang the lid of the snuffbox. There was no snuff in it, but a little black goblin. You see it was not a real snuffbox but a Jack-in-the-box.
“Tin soldier,” said the Goblin, “keep thine eyes to thyself. Don’t stare at what does not concern thee!”
But the Tin Soldier pretended not to hear.
“Very well, you just wait till to-morrow,” said the Goblin.
Next morning, when the children got up, the Tin Soldier was placed on the window-ledge. Whether it was the Goblin or the wind that did it, all at once the window flew open, and the Tin Soldier fell head foremost from the third story to the street below. It was a tremendous fall. Over and over he turned in the air, till he landed at last on his head, with his bayonet sticking fast between two paving-stones, while his one leg stood upright in the air.
The maidservant and the little boy ran down to look for him; but though they nearly trod on him, they could not find him. If the Soldier had only called out “Here I am!” they might easily enough have found him; but he did not think it becoming to cry out for help, because he was in uniform.
Now it began to rain. Faster and faster came the drops, till it became a regular downpour. When it was over, two street boys came by.
“Look here!” said one, “here lies a tin soldier. He shall have a sail in a boat.”
So they made a boat out of an old newspaper, and put the Tin Soldier in the middle of it, and away he sailed down the gutter, while the two boys ran along by his side, clapping their hands.
Goodness! how the waves rocked that paper boat, and how swift the current was! The Tin Soldier became quite giddy, the boat veered round so quickly; still he moved not a muscle, but looked straight before him, and held his bayonet firmly.
All at once the boat passed into a drain, and it became as dark as his own old home in the box.
“Where am I going now?” thought he. “Yes, to be sure, it must be all that Goblin’s doing. Ah, if the little lady were but sailing with me in the boat, I would not care if it were twice as dark!”
Just then a great water-rat, that lived under the drain, came out.
“Have you a passport?” asked the rat. “Where is your passport?”
But the Tin Soldier kept silence, and only held his bayonet tighter than ever. The boat sailed on, but the rat followed. Whew! how he gnashed his teeth, and shouted to the sticks and straws, “Stop him! stop him! He hasn’t paid toll! he hasn’t shown his passport!”
But the current became swifter and swifter. Already the Tin Soldier could see the daylight at the point where the tunnel ended; but at the same time he heard a rushing, roaring noise, at which a bolder man might well have trembled. Think! where the tunnel ended, the drain widened into a great canal. It was as dangerous for the Soldier as sailing down a mighty waterfall would be for us.
He was now so near it that he could not stop. The boat dashed on, and the Tin Soldier held himself so stiff and straight that no one might say of him that he so much as winked an eye. Three or four times the boat whirled round and round; it was full of water to the brim, and must certainly sink.
The Tin Soldier stood up to his neck in water. Deeper and deeper sank the boat, and softer and softer grew the paper; and now the water closed over the Soldier’s head. He thought of the pretty little dancer whom he should never see again, and in his ears rang the words of the song,
Fare thee well, thou valiant stranger;
Thou goest into mortal danger.
The paper boat parted in the middle, and the Tin Soldier fell down, down—but at that moment he was swallowed by a great fish.
Oh, how dark it was inside the fish! darker even than it had been in the drain, and so narrow! But the Tin Soldier retained his courage; he lay at full length, shouldering his bayonet as before.
To and fro swam the fish; then he made the strangest movements and became quite still.
Something like a flash of lightning passed through him, and a voice said, “Tin Soldier!”
The fish had been caught, taken to market, sold, and bought, and taken to the kitchen, where the cook had cut it open with a large knife. She seized the Tin Soldier between her finger and thumb and carried him into the room where the family sat, and where all were eager to see the wonderful man who had traveled about in the stomach of a fish; but the Tin Soldier remained unmoved. He was not at all proud.
They set him upon a table there. But how could so curious a thing happen,—the Soldier was in the very same room in which he had been before? He saw the same children; the same toys stood upon the table, and among them was the castle with the pretty little dancing maiden. She was still balancing herself on one leg. She, too, was steadfast. That touched the Tin Soldier’s heart. He could have wept tin tears, but that would not have been proper. He looked at her, and she looked at him, but neither spoke a word.
And now one of the little boys took the Tin Soldier and threw him into the stove. He gave no reason for doing so, but no doubt the Goblin in the snuffbox had something to do with it.
The Tin Soldier stood now in a blaze of red light. The heat he felt was terrible: but whether it proceeded from the fire, or from the love in his heart, he did not know. He saw that the colors were quite gone from his uniform; but whether that happened on his journey, or had been caused by grief, no one could say. He looked at the little Lady, she looked at him, and he felt himself melting; still he stood firm, with his bayonet on his shoulder. Then suddenly a door flew open, the draft caught the Dancer, and she flew straight into the stove to the Tin Soldier, flashed up in a flame, and was gone! Then the Tin Soldier melted down into a little lump, and in the ashes the maid found him next day, in the shape of a little tin heart; while of the Dancer nothing remained save the tinsel rose, and that was burned as black as a coal.