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Home -> Hans Christian Andersen -> The Red Shoes

The Red Shoes


The Bell

The Brave Tin Soldier

The Dream of Little Tuk

The Elderbush

The Emperor's New Clothes

The False Collar

The Fir Tree

The Flying Trunk

The Happy Family

The Leap-Frog

The Little Match Girl

The Little Mermaid

The Naughty Boy

The Old House

The Princess and the Pea

The Real Princess

The Red Shoes

The Shadow

The Snow Queen

The Story of a Mother

The Swineherd

The Ugly Duckling

The Wild Swans


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

"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

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

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