HOLGER DANSKE [0]
1872
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
HOLGER DANSKE
by Hans Christian Andersen
IN Denmark there stands an old castle named Kronenburg, close by
the Sound of Elsinore, where large ships, both English, Russian, and
Prussian, pass by hundreds every day. And they salute the old castle
with cannons, "Boom, boom," which is as if they said, "Good-day."
And the cannons of the old castle answer "Boom," which means "Many
thanks." In winter no ships sail by, for the whole Sound is covered
with ice as far as the Swedish coast, and has quite the appearance
of a high-road. The Danish and the Swedish flags wave, and Danes and
Swedes say, "Good-day," and "Thank you" to each other, not with
cannons, but with a friendly shake of the hand; and they exchange
white bread and biscuits with each other, because foreign articles
taste the best.
But the most beautiful sight of all is the old castle of
Kronenburg, where Holger Danske sits in the deep, dark cellar, into
which no one goes. He is clad in iron and steel, and rests his head on
his strong arm; his long beard hangs down upon the marble table,
into which it has become firmly rooted; he sleeps and dreams, but in
his dreams he sees everything that happens in Denmark. On each
Christmas-eve an angel comes to him and tells him that all he has
dreamed is true, and that he may go to sleep again in peace, as
Denmark is not yet in any real danger; but should danger ever come,
then Holger Danske will rouse himself, and the table will burst
asunder as he draws out his beard. Then he will come forth in his
strength, and strike a blow that shall sound in all the countries of
the world.
An old grandfather sat and told his little grandson all this about
Holger Danske, and the boy knew that what his grandfather told him
must be true. As the old man related this story, he was carving an
image in wood to represent Holger Danske, to be fastened to the prow
of a ship; for the old grandfather was a carver in wood, that is,
one who carved figures for the heads of ships, according to the
names given to them. And now he had carved Holger Danske, who stood
there erect and proud, with his long beard, holding in one hand his
broad battle-axe, while with the other he leaned on the Danish arms.
The old grandfather told the little boy a great deal about Danish
men and women who had distinguished themselves in olden times, so that
he fancied he knew as much even as Holger Danske himself, who, after
all, could only dream; and when the little fellow went to bed, he
thought so much about it that he actually pressed his chin against the
counterpane, and imagined that he had a long beard which had become
rooted to it. But the old grandfather remained sitting at his work and
carving away at the last part of it, which was the Danish arms. And
when he had finished he looked at the whole figure, and thought of all
he had heard and read, and what he had that evening related to his
little grandson. Then he nodded his head, wiped his spectacles and put
them on, and said, "Ah, yes; Holger Danske will not appear in my
lifetime, but the boy who is in bed there may very likely live to
see him when the event really comes to pass." And the old
grandfather nodded again; and the more he looked at Holger Danske, the
more satisfied he felt that he had carved a good image of him. It
seemed to glow with the color of life; the armor glittered like iron
and steel. The hearts in the Danish arms grew more and more red; while
the lions, with gold crowns on their heads, were leaping up. "That
is the most beautiful coat of arms in the world," said the old man.
"The lions represent strength; and the hearts, gentleness and love."
And as he gazed on the uppermost lion, he thought of King Canute,
who chained great England to Denmark's throne; and he looked at the
second lion, and thought of Waldemar,
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
HOLGER DANSKE
by Hans Christian Andersen
IN Denmark there stands an old castle named Kronenburg, close by
the Sound of Elsinore, where large ships, both English, Russian, and
Prussian, pass by hundreds every day. And they salute the old castle
with cannons, "Boom, boom," which is as if they said, "Good-day."
And the cannons of the old castle answer "Boom," which means "Many
thanks." In winter no ships sail by, for the whole Sound is covered
with ice as far as the Swedish coast, and has quite the appearance
of a high-road. The Danish and the Swedish flags wave, and Danes and
Swedes say, "Good-day," and "Thank you" to each other, not with
cannons, but with a friendly shake of the hand; and they exchange
white bread and biscuits with each other, because foreign articles
taste the best.
But the most beautiful sight of all is the old castle of
Kronenburg, where Holger Danske sits in the deep, dark cellar, into
which no one goes. He is clad in iron and steel, and rests his head on
his strong arm; his long beard hangs down upon the marble table,
into which it has become firmly rooted; he sleeps and dreams, but in
his dreams he sees everything that happens in Denmark. On each
Christmas-eve an angel comes to him and tells him that all he has
dreamed is true, and that he may go to sleep again in peace, as
Denmark is not yet in any real danger; but should danger ever come,
then Holger Danske will rouse himself, and the table will burst
asunder as he draws out his beard. Then he will come forth in his
strength, and strike a blow that shall sound in all the countries of
the world.
An old grandfather sat and told his little grandson all this about
Holger Danske, and the boy knew that what his grandfather told him
must be true. As the old man related this story, he was carving an
image in wood to represent Holger Danske, to be fastened to the prow
of a ship; for the old grandfather was a carver in wood, that is,
one who carved figures for the heads of ships, according to the
names given to them. And now he had carved Holger Danske, who stood
there erect and proud, with his long beard, holding in one hand his
broad battle-axe, while with the other he leaned on the Danish arms.
The old grandfather told the little boy a great deal about Danish
men and women who had distinguished themselves in olden times, so that
he fancied he knew as much even as Holger Danske himself, who, after
all, could only dream; and when the little fellow went to bed, he
thought so much about it that he actually pressed his chin against the
counterpane, and imagined that he had a long beard which had become
rooted to it. But the old grandfather remained sitting at his work and
carving away at the last part of it, which was the Danish arms. And
when he had finished he looked at the whole figure, and thought of all
he had heard and read, and what he had that evening related to his
little grandson. Then he nodded his head, wiped his spectacles and put
them on, and said, "Ah, yes; Holger Danske will not appear in my
lifetime, but the boy who is in bed there may very likely live to
see him when the event really comes to pass." And the old
grandfather nodded again; and the more he looked at Holger Danske, the
more satisfied he felt that he had carved a good image of him. It
seemed to glow with the color of life; the armor glittered like iron
and steel. The hearts in the Danish arms grew more and more red; while
the lions, with gold crowns on their heads, were leaping up. "That
is the most beautiful coat of arms in the world," said the old man.
"The lions represent strength; and the hearts, gentleness and love."
And as he gazed on the uppermost lion, he thought of King Canute,
who chained great England to Denmark's throne; and he looked at the
second lion, and thought of Waldemar,