10. “But he isn’t wearing anything at all!” a little child declared. Those who ignore what is in plain sight and blindly act as if there is nothing wrong are the targets of Andersen’s satire. That it takes an “innocent” child to divine a truth “His Majesty” cannot discern gives emphasis to the stultifying effects of social proprieties and conventions and underscores the duplicity and hypocrisy that the monarchy produces and perpetuates. Yet Andersen’s fable also represents a collective fantasy about the efficacy of rebellious energy and irreverent behavior. In real life, we are often disinclined to pay much attention to either the voice of the child or to those who engage in cheeky, irreverent behavior.
That it takes a child to cut through the hypocrisy of the adult world is a powerful insight, one that is particularly appealing to child readers (many of whom may identify with the heroic child who is willing to declare what no adult dares to speak). Jacques Derrida emphasizes that the tale’s transparency is its truth and that by staging “the truth” as something that can be unveiled and revealed, Andersen created a romantic fantasy in which anyone with courage and innocence can see and speak “the truth.” But as Hollis Robbins points out, Andersen may also be critiquing the fantasy that “when there is something wrong in the world, all that is needed is a brave, insightful individual to set things right” (Robbins, 660). For Marshall McLuhan, Andersen’s story illustrates the degree to which children, poets, artists, sleuths, and other socially deviant figures (as he puts it) see more clearly than others. In its celebration of the child’s wisdom and candor and its revelation of adult hypocrisies, this tale has a special appeal as bedtime reading.
11. “I must go through with it now, parade and all.” Andersen’s ending deviates from the Spanish version of the tale, in which the king is forced to admit his foolishness after the truth is known. The Emperor believes that he is preserving his dignity even as he continues to lose his dignity, once the truth has been revealed.
The Snow Queen:
A Fairy Tale in Seven Stories
Sneedronningen: Et eventyr i syv historier
Nye Eventyr. Anden Samling, 1845
“The Snow Queen,” one of the great quest narratives of children’s literature, traces the paths of two children through wonders and marvels as they journey to the ends of the earth. Although Kai and Gerda are not biological siblings, they are bonded as brother and sister. In the course of their travels, they pass from childhood through adolescence to become adults—adults who remain children at heart. Their trial-ridden journey contains all the classic features of a fairy tale: a courageous heroine who maintains her wits, melodramatic contests between good and evil, helpers and donors who aid the innocent heroine in her quest, villains with seductive powers, perilous journeys that lead to breathtaking adventures, and the triumph of the innocent and pure in heart over evil. The fairy tale has also been framed as an allegory for adults, illustrating the dangerous seductions of science and reason and predicting their defeat by the life-giving forces of Christian salvation. “The Snow Queen” operates on multiple levels, its simplicity concealing depth and complexity that yield new meanings with each reading.
Much as Andersen explicitly endorses purity of soul and the faith, hope, and charity embodied in Gerda, he cannot but let slip one hint after another about the attractions of Kai’s existence in the realm of the Snow Queen. If we trust the tale, we find that the realm of the Snow Queen is constructed as a world of exquisite aesthetic purity—chaste and sensual, spare yet luxurious, and disciplined but undomesticated. In the end, Gerda’s pious Christian vision cannot always compete with the enchanting icy attractions available to Kai. “When we read of Kai’s catastrophic predicament, the Snow Queen herself seems to preempt the author, and only a rapturous sensuality seems adequate to convey her thrilling excesses of coldness,” one critic comments. “And when Kai, now on solid ground, submits without volition to little Gerda’s wholesome and restorative kisses, we can’t help but listen for the thrum of the returning sled, in which we once soared through the air and submitted to the dizzying, promise-filled kisses of the Snow Queen” (Eisenberg, 111). Kai may not have the power to get back on the sled, but we get back on every time we turn the pages of “The Snow Queen.”
Andersen described the writing of “The Snow Queen” as “sheer joy”: “It occupied my mind so fully that it came out dancing across the page.” Although the story is one of the longest among his works, it took only five days to write. It has danced its way to the top of the list of Andersen’s fairy tales and is seen by many as his greatest accomplishment. Andersen himself believed that many of his finest stories were written after travels to Rome, Naples, Constantinople, and Athens in 1841. He returned to Copenhagen reinvigorated by the encounter with the “Orient” and began inventing his own tales rather than relying on the folklore of his culture. Andersen believed that he had finally found his true voice, and “The Snow Queen,” even if it does not mark a clean break with the earlier fairy tales, offers evidence of a more reflective style committed to forging new mythologies rather than producing lighthearted entertainments.
The earliest film adaptation of Andersen’s tale was Snezhnaya Koroleva, released in the Soviet Union in 1957 and exported to America in 1959, with voices dubbed by Sandra Dee and Tommy Kirk. Since then, four other films have been made, a second in the USSR, one in Denmark, one in the United States, and one in the United Kingdom.
THE FIRST STORY, CONCERNING A MIRROR AND ITS SHARDS
Look out! We’re about to begin.1 And when we reach the end of the story, we’ll know more than we do now2—all because of an evil troll! He was one of the very worst—the “devil” himself!3 One day he was in a really good mood, for he had just finished making a mirror4 that could shrink the image of whatever was good and beautiful down to almost nothing, while anything worthless and ugly was magnified and would look even worse. In this mirror, the loveliest landscapes looked like boiled spinach, and the kindest people looked hideous or seemed to be standing on their heads with their stomachs missing. Faces looked so deformed that you couldn’t recognize them, and if someone had just a single freckle, you could be sure that it would spread until it covered both nose and mouth.
That was all great fun, the “devil” said. If anyone had a kind, pious thought, the mirror would begin to grin, and the troll-devil would burst out laughing at his clever invention. Everyone who attended his troll school (for he ran one) spread the news that a miracle had taken place.5 Now for the first time, they claimed, you could see what the world and its people were really like. The students ran all over the place with the mirror until there was not a single country or person left to disfigure in it. They even wanted to fly all the way up to heaven to make fun of the angels and of God himself. The higher they flew with the mirror, the more it chuckled until finally they could barely hold on to it. They flew higher and higher, closer to God and the angels, but suddenly the mirror shook so hard with laughter that it flew out of their hands and crashed down to earth, where it shattered into a hundred million billion pieces and even more than that.
Once it broke, the mirror caused more unhappiness than ever, for some of the shards weren’t even the size of a grain of sand, and they blew around all over the world. If a tiny particle got into your eye, it stayed there and made everything look bad or else it only let you see what was wrong with things, for every microscopic particle had the exact same power as the entire mirror. A little splinter from the mirror landed in the hearts of some people, and that was really dreadful because then their hearts became as hard as a chunk of ice. The shards were so large at times that you could use them as windowpanes, but you wouldn’t want to see any of your friends through a window like that. Other pieces were turned into eyeglasses, and that caused a lot of trouble because people put them on, thinking they would see better or judge more fairly. The evil troll laughed until his sides split, and that really tickled him in a delightful way. But outside, tiny bits of glass were still flying around thr
ough the air. Now let’s hear what happened next!6
EDMUND DULAC
The devil is represented as a figure with cloven hoofs and with the head of a learned man. He delights in the mirror he has invented, a mirror in which everything good and beautiful shrinks down almost to nothing. Oddly, the mirror held up to the devil does not reflect his own grotesque body.
HARRY CLARKE
“Those who visited the goblin school declared everywhere that a wonder had been wrought” is the caption for this image, which shows various decorative students in awe of the devil’s mirror.
SECOND STORY: A LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL
In the big city,7 where there are so many houses and people that you rarely have enough room for a little garden and usually have to settle for a flowerpot, there once lived two poor children, whose garden was just a tiny bit larger than a flowerpot. They were not brother and sister, but they were as fond of each other as if they had been. Their parents lived right next to each other in the garrets of two adjoining houses. A rain gutter ran between the two houses,8 and there was a little window on each side, right near where the two roofs met. To get from one window to the other, all you had to do was leap across the gutter.
Outside the two windows, each family had a large wooden flowerbox, with room for herbs but also for a little rosebush.9 There was one rosebush in each of the flowerboxes, and both were flourishing. One day the parents had the idea of putting the boxes across the rain gutter so that they nearly reached from one window to the next. It was like having two walls of flowers, with pea-vines dangling down from the boxes and the roses sending out long tendrils that wound around the windows and then reached over toward each other, very nearly forming a triumphal arch made of greenery and flowers. The boxes were up very high, and the children knew that they were not allowed to climb out to them, but they could put their little footstools out on the roof beneath the roses, and there they played happily together.
KAY NIELSEN
A fragment from the devil’s mirror lodges in a heart, turning it to ice. The crystalline forms above the heart contrast with the rounded shapes of the clouds in the sky and forms on earth. The chilling effect of the icy heart can be seen in the wilted flower.
During the winter months, though, the fun was over. The windows were often completely frosted over, but the children would heat copper pennies on the stove, press them against the frozen windowpane, and make the best peepholes you can imagine,10 perfectly round. Behind each peephole you could see a friendly eye, one peering out from each window—the little boy and the little girl. His name was Kai and hers was Gerda.11 In the summer they could reach each other with a single leap, but in the winter they had to run all the way downstairs, then all the way upstairs, with snow swirling outside.
“The white bees are swarming out there,” Grandmother said.12 “Do they also have a queen bee?” asked the little boy, for he knew that real bees had one.
“Yes, they do!” Grandmother replied. “And she hovers in the thick of the swarm! She’s bigger than the others, and she never lands on the ground but flies straight up into the black clouds. On many a winter night, she flies through the streets of the city and peers in through the windows. Then the glass mysteriously freezes over, as if covered with flowers.”
“Yes, I’ve seen that!” both children said at the same time, and they knew that it was true.
“Is the Snow Queen able to come into houses?”13 the little girl asked.
EDMUND DULAC
The diaphanous figure of the Snow Queen floats above the rooftops, barely visible, yet covering them with the ice and snow that are her element. The warm glow of the interior lights mingles with the sparkling ice scattered by her over the houses. The church in the background, with its rose window, towers behind her.
“Just let her try!” the little boy said. “I’ll put her on the hot stove and melt her.”
Grandmother just stroked his head and kept on telling stories.
That evening, when little Kai was back home and half undressed, he climbed up on the chair by the window and looked through the little peephole. A few snowflakes were still falling outside, and one of them—the largest of all—landed on the edge of one of the flowerboxes. The snowflake grew and grew until suddenly it turned into a woman14 wearing a dress made of white gossamer so fine and sheer that it looked like millions of sparkling snowflakes. She was both beautiful and elegant but made of ice, dazzling, sparkling ice. And yet she was alive. Her eyes glittered like two bright stars, but there was nothing peaceful or calm about them. She nodded toward the window and beckoned with her hand. The little boy was so startled that he jumped down from the chair. Just then it seemed as if a huge bird was flying past the window.15
The next day was clear and cold, but then everything began to melt, and suddenly spring had arrived. The sun was shining; green shoots sprouted from the ground; swallows were building their nests; windows were opened wide; and once again the two children were sitting in their little garden high up on the roof above all the other houses.
The rose blossoms were unusually beautiful that summer. The little girl had learned a hymn with a verse about roses, and its words made her think about her own flowers. She sang it for the little boy, and he joined in:
“Down in the valley,16 where roses grow wild,
There we can speak with our dear Christ child!”
The children held hands, kissed the roses, and looked up at God’s clear sunshine,17 speaking to it as if the Christ Child were right there. The summer days were glorious, and it was heavenly to be outdoors near the fragrant rosebushes, which never seemed to stop blooming.
One day Kai and Gerda were looking at a book with pictures of birds and animals when suddenly—just as the clock on the tall church tower was striking five—Kai cried out: “Ouch! Something just stung my heart! And now there’s something in my eye too!”18
The little girl drew him close to her, and he blinked, but no, she couldn’t see a thing.
“I think it’s gone,” he said, but it was not gone. It was one of those particles of glass from the mirror, the troll’s mirror. You remember that terrible mirror, don’t you, and how it could turn everything great and good into something small and hideous, while evil and wicked things were enlarged, and any flaw became instantly visible? Poor little Kai! A tiny piece had also lodged itself right in his heart, and soon his heart would turn into a lump of ice. It didn’t hurt any longer, but the piece of glass was still there.
“Why are you crying?” Kai asked Gerda. “It makes you look so ugly! There’s nothing the matter with me!” Then suddenly he shouted: “Ugh! That rose over there has been chewed up by a worm!19 And look, this one’s just plain crooked! If you stop to think about it, these flowers all look just disgusting! They’re just like the boxes they grow in!” And with that, he kicked the boxes hard with his foot and broke off two of the roses.
“Kai, what are you doing!” the little girl cried. When he saw her look of horror, he just broke off another rose and ran inside through the window, leaving dear little Gerda all alone.20
From then on, whenever Gerda took out her picture book, he would tell her it was only for babies. And whenever Grandmother told stories, he would interrupt with “but.” If he had the chance, he would put a pair of spectacles on his nose, follow her around, and imitate the way she talked. He did such a good job of mocking her that people would burst out laughing. Before long Kai was able to walk and talk exactly like all the people living on that street. He knew how to imitate anything odd or unappealing about a person, and people would say: “That boy must have a good head on his shoulders!” But it was the glass in his eye and the glass in his heart that made him tease even little Gerda, who adored him with all her heart.
Kai’s games were now quite different from what they used to be. They had become so very clever. One winter day when snowflakes were swirling around and making drifts, he went outdoors with a large magnifying glass,21 spread out one side of his
blue coat, and let the snowflakes fall on it.
“Look through the glass, Gerda!” he shouted. The snowflakes all appeared much larger and seemed like beautiful flowers or ten-pointed stars. They were lovely to look at.
“Can’t you see how fancy they are?” Kai declared. “They’re far more interesting to look at than real flowers! They have no flaws at all, and they’re absolutely perfect, as long as they don’t melt.”
A little while later, Kai showed up wearing big gloves, with a sled on his back. He shouted right into Gerda’s ear: “I get to go sledding on the main square, where everyone else gets to play!” And off he went.
Over on the square, the boldest boys hitched their sleds to the farmers’ wagons and rode along for a while. That was great fun. Right in the middle of the games, a huge sleigh pulled up. It was white all over, and the only person sitting inside it was wrapped in a thick white fur coat and wearing a fleecy white hat. The sleigh drove twice around the square, and Kai quickly fastened his little sled to it and took off. He rode along into the next street, going faster and faster. The driver turned around and gave Kai a friendly nod, as if they knew each other. Each time Kai wanted to unfasten his little sled, the driver would nod again and Kai would stay right where he was, even when they drove right through the town gates.