The Steadfast Tin Soldier

There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers, all brothers, for they had been made from the same old tin spoon. They all looked exactly alike except for one, who had only one leg. He had been cast last of all, and there had not been quite enough tin left to finish him. But he stood as firmly on his one leg as the others stood on their two. He was the most remarkable of them all.

On the table where they were placed stood a fine castle made of paper, and through its little windows one could see into the rooms within. Before the castle grew tiny trees around a little mirror that was meant to represent a lake. Swans of wax swam on its surface and were reflected in the water. All this was very pretty, but the prettiest of all was a little lady who stood at the open door of the castle. She was cut out of paper, but she wore a dress of the finest gauze and a narrow blue ribbon over her shoulders like a scarf. She had a brilliant spangle on her head as large as her entire face. The little lady stretched out both her arms, for she was a dancer, and one of her legs was lifted so high in the air that the tin soldier could not see it and supposed that she, like himself, had but one leg.

She would be the very wife for me, thought the tin soldier, if only she were not quite so grand. He lay down full length behind a snuffbox to watch her. Late in the evening, the other tin soldiers were placed in their box and the people went to bed. Now the toys began to play at visits and battles. The tin soldiers rattled in their box, for they wanted to join the games, but they could not lift the lid. The nutcracker turned somersaults, and the pencil amused itself on the slate. There was such a noise that the canary woke up and began to talk politics. The only two who did not stir were the tin soldier and the little dancer. She stood on tiptoe with both arms stretched out, and he stood steadfast on his one leg and never took his eyes off her.

Then the clock struck twelve, and pop! Up flew the lid of the snuffbox, and out jumped the goblin who lived inside it. Tin soldier, he said, keep your eyes to yourself. But the tin soldier pretended not to hear. Just you wait until tomorrow, said the goblin.

The next morning the children placed the tin soldier on the windowsill. Whether it was the goblin's doing or the draft from the open window, the soldier suddenly toppled and fell headfirst from the third story to the street below. He landed with his bayonet between the cobblestones and his one leg stuck straight up in the air. The servant girl and the little boy searched for him but could not find him, though they nearly stepped on him. Soon it began to rain, and the raindrops fell harder and harder until it was a regular downpour. When the rain stopped, two street urchins came by and found the tin soldier. They made a boat from a piece of newspaper, placed him inside, and set him sailing down the gutter.

The tin soldier sailed through the dark drain, as steadfast as ever, never flinching. The paper boat twirled and spun in the rushing water, but the tin soldier held himself rigid and straight. At the end of the drain, he tumbled into a great canal. The paper boat sank, and the tin soldier sank with it, going deeper and deeper into the dark water. He thought of the pretty little dancer and of the goblin's warning.

Just then a great fish swallowed the tin soldier in one gulp. Inside the fish it was dark and terrible, but the tin soldier remained steadfast, lying at full length with his musket by his side. Then suddenly there was a bright flash of light. The fish had been caught, taken to the market, sold, and brought to the kitchen, where the cook cut it open with a great knife. She discovered the tin soldier and carried him into the very room where he had lived before. The children were overjoyed to see him. He looked at the table and there stood the little dancer, just as before, still balancing on one leg with her arms stretched out. She was steadfast too.

But then one of the little boys picked up the tin soldier and threw him straight into the stove. There was no reason for it at all; it must have been the goblin in the snuffbox who had made him do it. The tin soldier stood in the fire and felt a terrible heat. He looked at the little dancer one last time, and she looked at him. Then the door flew open and a wind caught the little dancer. She flew like a sylph right into the stove to the tin soldier, flashed into flame, and was gone. The tin soldier melted into the shape of a heart. When the servant girl cleaned out the stove the next morning, she found a little tin heart. Of the little dancer, nothing remained but her spangle, black as coal.