THE RED SHOES



There was once a little girl who was very pretty and delicate, but in summer

she was forced to run about with bare feet, she was so poor, and in winter

wear very large wooden shoes, which made her little insteps quite red, and

that looked so dangerous!



In the middle of the village lived old Dame Shoemaker; she sat and sewed

together, as well as she could, a little pair of shoes out of old red strips

of cloth; they were very clumsy, but it was a kind thought. They were meant

for the little girl. The little girl was called Karen.



On the very day her mother was buried, Karen received the red shoes, and wore

them for the first time. They were certainly not intended for mourning, but

she had no others, and with stockingless feet she followed the poor straw

coffin in them.



Suddenly a large old carriage drove up, and a large old lady sat in it: she

looked at the little girl, felt compassion for her, and then said to the

clergyman:



"Here, give me the little girl. I will adopt her!"



And Karen believed all this happened on account of the red shoes, but the old

lady thought they were horrible, and they were burnt. But Karen herself was

cleanly and nicely dressed; she must learn to read and sew; and people said

she was a nice little thing, but the looking-glass said: "Thou art more than

nice, thou art beautiful!"



Now the queen once travelled through the land, and she had her little daughter

with her. And this little daughter was a princess, and people streamed to the

castle, and Karen was there also, and the little princess stood in her fine

white dress, in a window, and let herself be stared at; she had neither a

train nor a golden crown, but splendid red morocco shoes. They were certainly

far handsomer than those Dame Shoemaker had made for little Karen. Nothing in

the world can be compared with red shoes.



Now Karen was old enough to be confirmed; she had new clothes and was to have

new shoes also. The rich shoemaker in the city took the measure of her little

foot. This took place at his house, in his room; where stood large

glass-cases, filled with elegant shoes and brilliant boots. All this looked

charming, but the old lady could not see well, and so had no pleasure in them.

In the midst of the shoes stood a pair of red ones, just like those the

princess had worn. How beautiful they were! The shoemaker said also they had

been made for the child of a count, but had not fitted.



"That must be patent leather!" said the old lady. "They shine so!"



"Yes, they shine!" said Karen, and they fitted, and were bought, but the old

lady knew nothing about their being red, else she would never have allowed

Karen to have gone in red shoes to be confirmed. Yet such was the case.



Everybody looked at her feet; and when she stepped through the chancel door on

the church pavement, it seemed to her as if the old figures on the tombs,

those portraits of old preachers and preachers' wives, with stiff ruffs, and

long black dresses, fixed their eyes on her red shoes. And she thought only of

them as the clergyman laid his hand upon her head, and spoke of the holy

baptism, of the covenant with God, and how she should be now a matured

Christian; and the organ pealed so solemnly; the sweet children's voices sang,

and the old music-directors sang, but Karen only thought of her red shoes.



In the afternoon, the old lady heard from everyone that the shoes had been

red, and she said that it was very wrong of Karen, that it was not at all

becoming, and that in future Karen should only go in black shoes to church,

even when she should be older.



The next Sunday there was the sacrament, and Karen looked at the black shoes,

looked at the red ones--looked at them again, and put on the red shoes.



The sun shone gloriously; Karen and the old lady walked along the path through

the corn; it was rather dusty there.



At the church door stood an old soldier with a crutch, and with a wonderfully

long beard, which was more red than white, and he bowed to the ground, and

asked the old lady whether he might dust her shoes. And Karen stretched out

her little foot.



"See, what beautiful dancing shoes!" said the soldier. "Sit firm when you

dance"; and he put his hand out towards the soles.



And the old lady gave the old soldier alms, and went into the church with

Karen.



And all the people in the church looked at Karen's red shoes, and all the

pictures, and as Karen knelt before the altar, and raised the cup to her

lips, she only thought of the red shoes, and they seemed to swim in it; and

she forgot to sing her psalm, and she forgot to pray, "Our Father in Heaven!"



Now all the people went out of church, and the old lady got into her carriage.

Karen raised her foot to get in after her, when the old soldier said,



"Look, what beautiful dancing shoes!"



And Karen could not help dancing a step or two, and when she began her feet

continued to dance; it was just as though the shoes had power over them. She

danced round the church corner, she could not leave off; the coachman was

obliged to run after and catch hold of her, and he lifted her in the carriage,

but her feet continued to dance so that she trod on the old lady dreadfully.

At length she took the shoes off, and then her legs had peace.



The shoes were placed in a closet at home, but Karen could not avoid looking

at them.



Now the old lady was sick, and it was said she could not recover. She must be

nursed and waited upon, and there was no one whose duty it was so much as

Karen's. But there was a great ball in the city, to which Karen was invited.

She looked at the old lady, who could not recover, she looked at the red

shoes, and she thought there could be no sin in it; she put on the red shoes,

she might do that also, she thought. But then she went to the ball and began

to dance.



When she wanted to dance to the right, the shoes would dance to the left, and

when she wanted to dance up the room, the shoes danced back again, down the

steps, into the street, and out of the city gate. She danced, and was forced

to dance straight out into the gloomy wood.



Then it was suddenly light up among the trees, and she fancied it must be the

moon, for there was a face; but it was the old soldier with the red beard; he

sat there, nodded his head, and said, "Look, what beautiful dancing shoes!"



Then she was terrified, and wanted to fling off the red shoes, but they clung

fast; and she pulled down her stockings, but the shoes seemed to have grown to

her feet. And she danced, and must dance, over fields and meadows, in rain and

sunshine, by night and day; but at night it was the most fearful.



She danced over the churchyard, but the dead did not dance--they had

something better to do than to dance. She wished to seat herself on a poor

man's grave, where the bitter tansy grew; but for her there was neither peace

nor rest; and when she danced towards the open church door, she saw an angel

standing there. He wore long, white garments; he had wings which reached from

his shoulders to the earth; his countenance was severe and grave; and in his

hand he held a sword, broad and glittering.



"Dance shalt thou!" said he. "Dance in thy red shoes till thou art pale and

cold! Till thy skin shrivels up and thou art a skeleton! Dance shalt thou from

door to door, and where proud, vain children dwell, thou shalt knock, that

they may hear thee and tremble! Dance shalt thou--!"



"Mercy!" cried Karen. But she did not hear the angel's reply, for the shoes

carried her through the gate into the fields, across roads and bridges, and

she must keep ever dancing.



One morning she danced past a door which she well knew. Within sounded a

psalm; a coffin, decked with flowers, was borne forth. Then she knew that the

old lady was dead, and felt that she was abandoned by all, and condemned by

the angel of God.



She danced, and she was forced to dance through the gloomy night. The shoes

carried her over stack and stone; she was torn till she bled; she danced over

the heath till she came to a little house. Here, she knew, dwelt the

executioner; and she tapped with her fingers at the window, and said, "Come

out! Come out! I cannot come in, for I am forced to dance!"



And the executioner said, "Thou dost not know who I am, I fancy? I strike bad

people's heads off; and I hear that my axe rings!"



"Don't strike my head off!" said Karen. "Then I can't repent of my sins! But

strike off my feet in the red shoes!"



And then she confessed her entire sin, and the executioner struck off her feet

with the red shoes, but the shoes danced away with the little feet across the

field into the deep wood.



And he carved out little wooden feet for her, and crutches, taught her the

psalm criminals always sing; and she kissed the hand which had wielded the

axe, and went over the heath.



"Now I have suffered enough for the red shoes!" said she. "Now I will go into

the church that people may see me!" And she hastened towards the church door:

but when she was near it, the red shoes danced before her, and she was

terrified, and turned round. The whole week she was unhappy, and wept many

bitter tears; but when Sunday returned, she said, "Well, now I have suffered

and struggled enough! I really believe I am as good as many a one who sits in

the church, and holds her head so high!"



And away she went boldly; but she had not got farther than the churchyard gate

before she saw the red shoes dancing before her; and she was frightened, and

turned back, and repented of her sin from her heart.



And she went to the parsonage, and begged that they would take her into

service; she would be very industrious, she said, and would do everything she

could; she did not care about the wages, only she wished to have a home, and

be with good people. And the clergyman's wife was sorry for her and took her

into service; and she was industrious and thoughtful. She sat still and

listened when the clergyman read the Bible in the evenings. All the children

thought a great deal of her; but when they spoke of dress, and grandeur, and

beauty, she shook her head.



The following Sunday, when the family was going to church, they asked her

whether she would not go with them; but she glanced sorrowfully, with tears in

her eyes, at her crutches. The family went to hear the word of God; but she

went alone into her little chamber; there was only room for a bed and chair to

stand in it; and here she sat down with her Prayer-Book; and whilst she read

with a pious mind, the wind bore the strains of the organ towards her, and she

raised her tearful countenance, and said, "O God, help me!"



And the sun shone so clearly, and straight before her stood the angel of God

in white garments, the same she had seen that night at the church door; but he

no longer carried the sharp sword, but in its stead a splendid green spray,

full of roses. And he touched the ceiling with the spray, and the ceiling rose

so high, and where he had touched it there gleamed a golden star. And he

touched the walls, and they widened out, and she saw the organ which was

playing; she saw the old pictures of the preachers and the preachers' wives.

The congregation sat in cushioned seats, and sang out of their Prayer-Books.

For the church itself had come to the poor girl in her narrow chamber, or else

she had come into the church. She sat in the pew with the clergyman's family,

and when they had ended the psalm and looked up, they nodded and said, "It is

right that thou art come!"



"It was through mercy!" she said.



And the organ pealed, and the children's voices in the choir sounded so sweet

and soft! The clear sunshine streamed so warmly through the window into the

pew where Karen sat! Her heart was so full of sunshine, peace, and joy, that

it broke. Her soul flew on the sunshine to God, and there no one asked after

the RED SHOES.

****

Top of Page

< BACK    NEXT >

| Home | Reading Room | Andersen's Fairy Tales