# Fairy tales and stories (Andersen, Tegner)/The Old House

Illustrator: Hans Tegner
THE OLD HOUSE
ROUND THE CORNER IN THE NEXT STREET STOOD AN OLD, OLD HOUSE.
THE OLD HOUSE
ROUND the corner in the next street stood an old, old house; it was almost three hundred years old, as any one might read on the beam, where the date was carved out, together with hyacinths and branches of hop vine; there were whole verses spelled as in olden days, and over the windows were carved faces making all sorts of grimaces. One story projected considerably over the other, and just under the roof was a leaden gutter with a dragon's head; the rain-water should have run out of its mouth, but it ran out of its stomach, for there was a hole in the gutter.
All the other houses in the street were quite new and fresh, with large window-panes and smooth walls. One could see they did not want to have anything to do with the old house. They were no doubt thinking: "How long is that ramshackle thing going to stand there as a disgrace to the street? And the bow-window projects so far into the street that no one can see from our windows what is going on in that direction; the door-steps are as broad as the staircase of a palace and as high as the stairs ​of a church tower. The iron railing looks like the gate of an old family vault, and has brass knobs as well. It makes one feel quite ashamed." Just opposite were also some new and fresh-looking houses, and they were of the same opinion as the others, but here at the window of one of them sat a little boy with fresh, rosy cheeks and clear, bright eyes. He liked the old house best of all, both by sunshine and by moonlight, and when he looked over at the wall where the plaster had fallen otf, he would sit and imagine the most wonderful pictures of what the street had looked like in former days, with steps, bow-windows, aad pointed gables; he could see soldiers with halberds, and gutters and spouts that looked like dragons and serpents. That was certainly a house worth looking at ! Over there lived an old man who wore shag trousers, a coat with large brass buttons, and a wig which any one could see was a real one. Every morning an old man came to the house to clean the rooms and go errands, otherwise the old man in the shag trousers was quite alone in the old house. Sometimes he would come to the windows and look out, when the little boy would nod to him, and the old man nodded in return, and thus they were acquainted and became friends, although they had never spoken to each other ; but that was of no consequence. The little boy heard his parents say: "The old man over there is very well off, but he must be terribly lonely." Next Sunday the little boy wrapped up something in a piece of paper, went down to the gate, and when the man who went errands came past he said to him, "Here ! will you give this to the old man over there from me ? I have two tin soldiers, and this is one of them ; he shall have it, for I know he is so terribly lonely." And the old man looked quite pleased, nodded his head, and carried the tin soldier across to the old house. Afterward a message came asking if the little boy would not like to come across himself on a visit ; and this he got permission from his parents to do, and thus it was he came to enter the old house. And the brass knobs on the railing leading up the steps shone much brighter than usual ; one would think they had been polished in honor of the visit, and it seemed as if the trumpeters standing on tulips which were carved on the door were blowing with all their might, their cheeks looking much rounder than usual. They blew: " Taratantarra ! the little boy is coming! taratantarra!" — and then the door was opened. The whole of the hall was hung with old portraits — knights in armor and ladies in silk gowns; the armor rattled and the silk gowns rustled. And then came some more steps which led up, and then a few steps which led down, and then one came to a balcony which was in rather a rickety condition with large holes and long crevices, through all of which grass
"THANK YOU FOR THE TIN SOLDIER, MY LITTLE FRIEND!" SAID THE OLD MAN, "AND THANKS FOR COMING TO SEE ME."
​projected from the house into the yard were covered with so much foUage that it looked hke a garden, but it was only a balcony. Old flower-pots with faces and asses' ears stood round about, and the flowers grew just as they pleased. In one pot with carnations the sprouts were hanging all over the sides, and seemed plainly to say : "The breeze has patted us, the sun has kissed us and promised us a little flower on Sunday — a little flower on Sunday." And so the little boy came into a room where the walls were covered with pigskin on which flowers were stamped in gold.
"Gilding soon may perish,
But pigskin forever will flourish,"
said the walls. Round the room stood chairs with high backs and arms on both sides, all beautifully carved. "Sit down, sit down!" they said. "Ugh, how I am creaking! I suppose I shall get rheumatism, just like the old cup- board. Rheumatism in the back, ugh!" And then the little boy came into the parlor with the bow- window, where the old man was sitting. "Thank you for the tin soldier, my little friend," said the old man. "And thanks for coming over to see me." "Thanks, thanks!" or "Creak, creak!" groaned all the furniture; there was so much ot it that the various pieces got into each other's way in trying to see the little boy. And in the middle of the wall hung a picture of a beautiful lady, quite young and cheerful in appearance, but dressed like people in the olden times with powdered hair and stiff" clothes. She said neither "Thanks" nor "Creak," but looked with her mild eyes at the little boy, who at once asked the old man, "Where have you got her from?" "From the old-furniture dealer round the corner," said the old man. " Many pictures are hanging there which no one knows or cares anything about, because the persons are all buried, but many years ago I knew this lady; she has now been dead and gone half a century." And below the picture, under glass, hung a bouquet of withered flowers; they also seemed to be half a century old, so old did they look. And the pendulum of the big clock went to and fro, and the hand went round, and everything in the room began to look still older, but they did not seem to notice it. "They say at home," said the little boy, "that you are so terribly lonely." "Well," was the answer, "old memories, and what they can carry with them, come and visit me, and now you have also come! I am very comfortable." And then he took from the shelf a book with pictures; there were ​great long processions with the most wonderful carriages, which one does not see nowadays, with soldiers dressed like the knave of clubs and citizens with flying banners; the tailors had one with a pair of shears supported by two lions, and the shoemakers had one without a boot, but with an eagle that had two heads, as the shoemakers must have everything so arranged that they can say, "Here is a pair." Yes, it was a wonderful picture-book! And the old man went into the other room to fetch sweetmeats, apples, and nuts; it was really very pleasant in the old house. "I cannot stand it," said the tin soldier, who stood on the chest of drawers; "it is so lonely and dull here. When one has been accustomed to family life one cannot get used to this state of things. I cannot stand it! The day itself is long enough, but the evening is still longer. It is not at all like your house, where your father and mother were always talking so pleasantly together, and where you and all the other dear children were making such a delightful noise. How lonelv the old man is here! Do you think he gets any kisses? Do you think he gets any kind looks or a Christmas tree? He'll get nothing, except a funeral. I cannot stand it!" "You must not take things so sadly," said the little boy. "I think it is lovely here ; and, besides, old memories and what they can carry with them come and visit you." "But I don't see them, and I don't know them," said the tin soldier. " I can't stand it!" "But you must!" said the little boy. And the old man came back with the pleasantest of faces, with the most lovely sweetmeats, apples, and nuts; and then the little boy thought no more of the tin soldier. The little bov went home happy and delighted ; days and weeks passed by, and the nodding went on to and from the old house, and so the little boy went over there again. And the carved trumpeters blew their "Taratantarra! Here is the little boy! Taratantarra!" And the swords and armor on the pictures of the old knights rattled, and the silk gowns rustled, the pigskin talked, and the old chairs had rheumatics in their back and said, "Ugh!" It was just like the first occasion, for over there one day or one hour was Just like another. "I cannot stand it!" said the tin soldier; I have wept tears of tin! It is really too melancholy here. Rather let me go to the wars and lose my arms and legs! That would be a change, at any rate. I cannot stand it! Now I know what it is to receive visits from one's old memories and what they can carry with them. I have had visits from mine, and I can tell you it 's no pleasure in the long run; I was just on the point
IN THE EVENING A CARRIAGE STOPPED AT THE DOOR, INTO WHICH THEY PUT THE OLD MAN'S COFFIN.
morning — vou know which I mean. All you children were standing in front of the table singing the hymn you sing every morning; you were standing devotedly with folded hands, and your father and mother were just as solemn. Then the door was opened and your little sister Maria, who is n't two years old yet, and who always will dance when she hears music or singing, no matter what kind, was brought into the room, — which ought not to have been done, — and then she began to dance, but she could not keep the right time, for the music was too slow, and then she stood first on one leg and bent her head right forward, and then on the other leg with her head in the same position, but she could not get into right time. You all looked very serious, although it was difficult enough to keep from laughing, but I laughed inwardly till I fell down from the table and got a bump which I still have, for it was n't right of me to laugh. All of it stands again vividly before me, as well as everything else I have gone through ; and those must be the old memories and what they can carry with them. Tell me if you still sing on Sun- days. And tell me something about little Maria. And how is my comrade, the other tin soldier? Ah, he is really happy! I cannot stand it any longer." "But you have been given away as a present," said the little boy; "you must remain where you are; don't you understand that.?" And the old man came in with a drawer, in which there were many things to look at: there was "the white house," and "the balsam-box," and old playing-cards, so large and richly gilt as one never sees nowa- days. And many other drawers were opened. Later on the old man opened the piano. It was one of those with a landscape on the inside of the lid. He sat down to play on it, hut it was very much out of tune, and then he hummed a song. "Yes, she could sing that," he said, and nodded to the portrait he had bought of the old-furniture dealer, and the old man's eyes shone brightly. " I want to go to the wars! I want to go to the wars!" cried the tin soldier as loud as he could, and threw himself down on the floor. What had become of him .? Both the old man and the little boy searched for him, but he was lost and gone. "I shall find him," said the old man, but he never found him. The flooring was so open and full of holes that the tin soldier had fallen through one of the chinks, and there he lay in an open grave. And the day passed, and the little boy went home ; and the week passed, and many more weeks passed. The windows were quite frozen over, and the little boy had to sit and breathe on the panes to get a peep- hole through which he could look over at the old house. The snow had covered up all the ornaments and inscriptions and the steps were full of snow, just as if there was no one at home. ​Neither was there any one at home, for the old man was dead. In the evening a carriage stopped at the door, into which they put his coffin. He was to be laid out at some place in the country before being buried. And so he was driven away, but there was no one to follow him; for all his friends were dead. The little boy kissed his hand after the coffin as the carriage drove away. Some days later the old house was sold by auction. From his window the little boy could see how they carried away the old knights and the old ladies, the flower-pots with the long ears, the old chairs and ancient cup- boards. Some things went one way and some another way. Her portrait, which the old man had bought at the old-furniture dealer's, came back to him again, and there it remained, for no one knew her any more, and no one cared tor the old picture. In the spring the house itself was pulled down, for it was a tumble- down shanty, people said. One could see from the street right into the parlor with the pigskin on the walls, which was slashed and torn in all directions; and the green foliage on the balcony hung in wild disorder round the falling beams. And then the ground was cleared. "What a good riddance ! " said the neighbors. And a tine house was built, with large windows and white, smooth walls ; but in front ot it, on the site where the old house had really stood, a small garden was laid out, and up against the walls of the neighboring house grew wild vines. Before the garden was a large iron railing with an iron gate, which looked quite stately. People stopped before it and looked through the railings. The sparrows hung by the score on to the vine and chattered away to each other as fast as they could, but it was not about the old house, for they could not remember that. So many years had passed that the little boy had grown into a man, and had proved himself to be a tine fellow whom his parents might well be proud of. He had just been married and had moved with his little wife into this house with the garden round it. He was now standing by her while she was planting a wild flower which she considered so pretty. She planted it with her little hands and pressed the soil up against it with her fingers. Ah, what was that ? She had pricked herself There was something sharp sticking up out of the soft soil. Only think ! It was the tin soldier, the one that was lost in the old man's house, and had been tumbling about between the timbers and the rubbish, and finally had been buried in the ground, where he had been lying for many years. And the young wife dried the soldier, first with a green leat and then with her soft handkerchief, which was so delicately perfumed. It seemed to the tin soldier as if he came out of a trance. ​"Let me see him," said the young man, with a smile and a shake of the head. "Well, I don't suppose it can be he, but I remember an adventure I had with a tin soldier when I was a little boy." And so he told his wife about the old house and the old man, and about the tin soldier which he had sent across to him because he was so terribly lonely. And he told it exactly as it had happened, so that the young wife had tears in her eyes over the story of the old house and the old man.
"It may be that it is the same tin soldier," she said; "I should like to keep it and remember all you have told me. But you must show me the old man's grave."
"I don't know where it is," he said, "and no one knows. All his friends were dead, nobody looked after it, and I was only a little boy."
"How terribly lonely he must have been!" she said.
"Terribly lonely!" said the tin soldier; "but it is delightful not to be forgotten!"
"Delightful!" something close by exclaimed, but nobody except the tin soldier saw that it was a bit of the pigskin hangings. All the gilding had gone off it, so that it looked like wet soil; but it had one opinion, and that it expressed:
"Gilding soon may perish, But pigskin will forever flourish."
But the tin soldier did not believe it.