your online library and language lab
Contents > Author > Hans Christian Andersen > The Flying Trunk 1805- 1875
Previous Next

Hans Christian Andersen
The Flying Trunk
printer friendly version
There was once a merchant who was so rich that he could
have paved the whole street with gold, and would even then have
had enough for a small alley. But he did not do so; he knew the
value of money better than to use it in this way. So clever was he,
that every shilling he put out brought him a crown; and so he
continued till he died. His son inherited his wealth, and he lived
a merry life with it; he went to a masquerade every night, made
kites out of five pound notes, and threw pieces of gold into the
sea instead of stones, making ducks and drakes of them.

In this manner he soon lost all his money. At last he had
nothing left but a pair of slippers, an old dressing-gown, and
four shillings. And now all his friends deserted him, they could
not walk with him in the streets; but one of them, who was
very good-natured, sent him an old trunk with this message,
?Pack up!?

?Yes,? he said, ?it is all very well to say ?pack up,?? but he
had nothing left to pack up, therefore he seated himself in the
trunk. It was a very wonderful trunk; no sooner did anyone
press on the lock than the trunk could fly. He shut the lid and
pressed the lock, when away flew the trunk up the chimney
with the merchant?s son in it, right up into the clouds. Whenever
the bottom of the trunk cracked, he was in a great fright, for if
the trunk fell to pieces he would have made a tremendous
somersault over the trees. However, he got safely in his trunk
to the land of Turkey. He hid the trunk in the wood under some
dry leaves, and then went into the town: he could do this very
well, for the Turks always go about dressed in dressing-gowns
and slippers, as he was himself. He happened to meet a nurse
with a little child. ?I say, you Turkish nurse,? cried he, ?what
castle is that near the town, with the windows placed so high??

?The king?s daughter lives there,? she replied; ?it has been
prophesied that she will be very unhappy about a lover, and
therefore no one is allowed to visit her, unless the king and
queen are present.?

?Thank you,? said the merchant?s son. So he went back to
the wood, seated himself in his trunk, flew up to the roof of the
castle, and crept through the window into the princess?s room.
She lay on the sofa asleep, and she was so beautiful that the
merchant?s son could not help kissing her. Then she awoke,
and was very much frightened; but he told her he was a
Turkish angel, who had come down through the air to see her,
which pleased her very much. He sat down by her side and
talked to her: he said her eyes were like beautiful dark lakes,
in which the thoughts swam about like little mermaids, and he
told her that her forehead was a snowy mountain, which
contained splendid halls full of pictures. And then he related to
her about the stork who brings the beautiful children from the
rivers. These were delightful stories; and when he asked the
princess if she would marry him, she consented immediately.

?But you must come on Saturday,? she said; ?for then the
king and queen will take tea with me. They will be very proud
when they find that I am going to marry a Turkish angel; but
you must think of some very pretty stories to tell them, for my
parents like to hear stories better than anything. My mother
prefers one that is deep and moral; but my father likes
something funny, to make him laugh.?

?Very well,? he replied; ?I shall bring you no other
marriage portion than a story,? and so they parted. But the
princess gave him a sword which was studded with gold
coins, and these he could use.

Then he flew away to the town and bought a new
dressing-gown, and afterwards returned to the wood, where
he composed a story, so as to be ready for Saturday, which
was no easy matter. It was ready however by Saturday, when
he went to see the princess. The king, and queen, and the
whole court, were at tea with the princess; and he was
received with great politeness.

?Will you tell us a story?? said the queen,??one that
is instructive and full of deep learning.?

?Yes, but with something in it to laugh at,? said the king.

?Certainly,? he replied, and commenced at once, asking
them to listen attentively. ?There was once a bundle of matches
that were exceedingly proud of their high descent. Their
genealogical tree, that is, a large pine-tree from which they
had been cut, was at one time a large, old tree in the wood.
The matches now lay between a tinder-box and an old iron
saucepan, and were talking about their youthful days.
?Ah! then we grew on the green boughs, and were as green
as they; every morning and evening we were fed with
diamond drops of dew. Whenever the sun shone, we felt his
warm rays, and the little birds would relate stories to us as
they sang. We knew that we were rich, for the other trees
only wore their green dress in summer, but our family were
able to array themselves in green, summer and winter. But
the wood-cutter came, like a great revolution, and our family
fell under the axe. The head of the house obtained a situation
as mainmast in a very fine ship, and can sail round the world
when he will. The other branches of the family were taken to
different places, and our office now is to kindle a light for
common people. This is how such high-born people as we
came to be in a kitchen.?

??Mine has been a very different fate,? said the iron pot,
which stood by the matches; ?from my first entrance into the
world I have been used to cooking and scouring. I am the
first in this house, when anything solid or useful is required.
My only pleasure is to be made clean and shining after dinner,
and to sit in my place and have a little sensible conversation
with my neighbors. All of us, excepting the water-bucket,
which is sometimes taken into the courtyard, live here
together within these four walls. We get our news from the
market-basket, but he sometimes tells us very unpleasant
things about the people and the government. Yes, and one
day an old pot was so alarmed, that he fell down and was
broken to pieces. He was a liberal, I can tell you.?

??You are talking too much,? said the tinder-box, and
the steel struck against the flint till some sparks flew out,
crying, ?We want a merry evening, don?t we??

??Yes, of course,? said the matches, ?let us talk about
those who are the highest born.?

??No, I don?t like to be always talking of what we are,?
remarked the saucepan; ?let us think of some other
amusement; I will begin. We will tell something that has
happened to ourselves; that will be very easy, and interesting
as well. On the Baltic Sea, near the Danish shore??

"'What a pretty commencement!' said the plates; ?we shall
all like that story, I am sure.?

"'Yes; well in my youth, I lived in a quiet family, where the
furniture was polished, the floors scoured, and clean curtains
put up every fortnight.'

??What an interesting way you have of relating a story,?
said the carpet-broom; ?it is easy to perceive that you have
been a great deal in women?s society, there is something
so pure runs through what you say.?

??That is quite true,? said the water-bucket; and he
made a spring with joy, and splashed some water on the floor.

?Then the saucepan went on with his story, and the end
was as good as the beginning.

?The plates rattled with pleasure, and the carpet-broom
brought some green parsley out of the dust-hole and crowned
the saucepan, for he knew it would vex the others; and he
thought, ?If I crown him to-day he will crown me to-morrow.?

??Now, let us have a dance,? said the fire-tongs; and then
how they danced and stuck up one leg in the air. The chair-
cushion in the corner burst with laughter when she saw it.

??Shall I be crowned now?? asked the fire-tongs; so the
broom found another wreath for the tongs.

??They were only common people after all,? thought the
matches. The tea-urn was now asked to sing, but she said
she had a cold, and could not sing without boiling heat. They
all thought this was affectation, and because she did not wish
to sing excepting in the parlor, when on the table with the
grand people.

?In the window sat an old quill-pen, with which the maid
generally wrote. There was nothing remarkable about the
pen, excepting that it had been dipped too deeply in the ink,
but it was proud of that.

??If the tea-urn won?t sing,? said the pen, ?she can leave
it alone; there is a nightingale in a cage who can sing; she
has not been taught much, certainly, but we need not say
anything this evening about that.?

??I think it highly improper,? said the tea-kettle, who
was kitchen singer, and half-brother to the tea-urn, ?that
a rich foreign bird should be listened to here. Is it patriotic?
Let the market-basket decide what is right.?

??I certainly am vexed,? said the basket; ?inwardly vexed,
more than any one can imagine. Are we spending the
evening properly? Would it not be more sensible to put
the house in order? If each were in his own place I would
lead a game; this would be quite another thing.?

??Let us act a play,? said they all. At the same moment
the door opened, and the maid came in. Then not one
stirred; they all remained quite still; yet, at the same time,
there was not a single pot amongst them who had not a
high opinion of himself, and of what he could do if he chose.

??Yes, if we had chosen,? they each thought, ?we might
have spent a very pleasant evening.?

?The maid took the matches and lighted them; dear
me, how they sputtered and blazed up!

??Now then,? they thought, ?every one will see that
we are the first. How we shine; what a light we give!?
Even while they spoke their light went out.

?What a capital story,? said the queen, ?I feel as if I
were really in the kitchen, and could see the matches;
yes, you shall marry our daughter.?

?Certainly,? said the king, ?thou shalt have our
daughter.? The king said thou to him because he was
going to be one of the family. The wedding-day was fixed,
and, on the evening before, the whole city was illuminated.
Cakes and sweetmeats were thrown among the people.
The street boys stood on tiptoe and shouted ?hurrah,?
and whistled between their fingers; altogether it was a
very splendid affair.

?I will give them another treat,? said the merchant?s
son. So he went and bought rockets and crackers, and
all sorts of fire-works that could be thought of, packed
them in his trunk, and flew up with it into the air. What
a whizzing and popping they made as they went off!
The Turks, when they saw such a sight in the air, jumped
so high that their slippers flew about their ears. It was
easy to believe after this that the princess was really
going to marry a Turkish angel.

As soon as the merchant?s son had come down in
his flying trunk to the wood after the fireworks, he
thought, ?I will go back into the town now, and hear
what they think of the entertainment.? It was very
natural that he should wish to know. And what strange
things people did say, to be sure! every one whom he
questioned had a different tale to tell, though they all
thought it very beautiful.

? I saw the Turkish angel myself,? said one; ?he had
eyes like glittering stars, and a head like foaming water.?

?He flew in a mantle of fire,? cried another, ?and
lovely little cherubs peeped out from the folds.?

He heard many more fine things about himself, and
that the next day he was to be married. After this he
went back to the forest to rest himself in his trunk. It
had disappeared! A spark from the fireworks which
remained had set it on fire; it was burnt to ashes! So
the merchant?s son could not fly any more, nor go to
meet his bride. She stood all day on the roof waiting
for him, and most likely she is waiting there still; while
he wanders through the world telling fairy tales, but
none of them so amusing as the one he related
about the matches.

Previous Next

10873856 visitors
· 8908 texts · 2350 recordings · 957 authors · 194 readers

· Home · Index · Audio Clips · Links · Feedback · About Us · Contact Us ·

Copyright © All Rights Reserved.

Warning: Unknown: Your script possibly relies on a session side-effect which existed until PHP 4.2.3. Please be advised that the session extension does not consider global variables as a source of data, unless register_globals is enabled. You can disable this functionality and this warning by setting session.bug_compat_42 or session.bug_compat_warn to off, respectively in Unknown on line 0