Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales/The Old Man and the Angel

by Hans Christian Andersen

For other English-language translations of this work, see On Judgement Day.

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THE OLD MAN AND THE ANGEL.

The most sacred day in a man’s life is the day of his death. The last and great day of his transformation.

“Hast thou deeply and earnestly thought of this day which will inevitably bring thy last earthly hour?”

There was once a man with a strong religious belief, who argued boldly for the truth of God’s word, a law in himself, and a zealous servant of God.

He lay at last on his death-bed, and by it stood the angel of death, with a heavenly countenance.

“Thy hour-glass has run down,” he said, as he touched the dying man’s feet with his finger, and they became icy cold. Then he touched his forehead and his heart. The thread of life snapped, and the soul was free to follow the angel of death.

In the twinkling of an eye they were gone, while the soul’s first initiation began by the strange appearance of great black, foamy billows, which rolled over him in a throng from head to foot, and the events of his whole life were brought to his memory as the billows rolled over him.

He could look down through the waves to the giddy deep beneath him, and with a glance like lightning through immeasurable space, in which sparkled myriads of suns, stars, and planets impossible to number, yet clearly perceptible in the unlimited universe.

The spirit on the confines of immortality shook with dread as he knew himself to be guilty, and had nothing to support his claim for mercy, as he felt himself sinking into unbounded vacuity.

With only his own goodness to trust to, God would perhaps give him rest; and with childlike faith and trust he would be able to say, “Thy will be done.”

This dead man, however, felt that he had not committed the sins of childhood, but of manhood, and the thought of his sins made him tremble and shudder. He had certainly been a true believer, and a strict follower of religious forms. But, as he well knew, millions had wandered on the broad road that leads to destruction, and it would be not only their souls,

 

The old man and the angel.

 

but their bodies also, although dead, that would be sent to fire and chains for ever.

And now the angel of death led the trembling soul nearer to heaven, where mercy has been promised; and the door was still open.

And then the soul following the angel of death fancied he could see once more his own death-bed. There lay the body formed of dust, wrapped in a white shroud, and strangers were copying this image of itself.

Again they went forward with great strides, and entered what at first seemed a large hall, and then a forest. But nature was dumb, the trees were either close to, or at a distance from, each other, and they did not look real, but artificial, or like the ivy-covered wall of an old-fashioned French garden. It was truly a masquerade.

“See there the life of man,” said the angel.

Yet there was nothing to see only under a deception.

Those in gold and velvet were not always to be looked upon as the noblest and mightiest; they were even less noble than many who wore coarse smock-frocks, and were in poverty and considered insignificant.

It was very strange and peculiar, yet amusing to see how careful all these masqueraders were to conceal something or other under their garments. But when one dragged the garment of another so violently that it came off, then was seen the head of an animal—here a grinning ass; there an ugly he-goat; or a cold, slimy snake, and at last a stale fish.

These animals represented some of the vices that live and grow in the human heart, where they leap and spring and show themselves; therefore a garment is fastened tightly round the wearers to conceal their real characters. But of what use is that? People who saw these garments dragged off, only laughed and cried out—

“See there! That is he! That is she!”

And so there always are some ready to cover others with misery and disgrace.

And the wandering spirit asked—

“What were my animals then once?”

Then the angel of death pointed out a proud figure of himself, the head adorned with a many-coloured, radiant glory. But the feet of an animal stuck in the heart of the man—and they were the feet of a peacock! while the glory was no other than the many-coloured tail of the bird!

They went on farther, where the cawing of the great birds on the branches of the trees, sounded like a human voice, saying—

“Thou wanderer on the way of death, knowest thou me still?” It was the voice of the wicked thoughts and desires of his life, who were each asking, “Knowest thou me still?”

A dread seized the soul, for it recognised the voices of its wicked thoughts and desires, that like witnesses for the right stepped forth against it. “Ah, well,” said the spirit, “I know that the wicked nature that dwells in the flesh is not good, yet these sinful thoughts of mine did not result in evil deeds—the world saw very little corrupt fruit.”

Then the angel of death led the soul away rapidly, that they might not

 

THE ANGEL OF DEATH AND THE OLD MAN.

 

continue to hear the hideous cries of the great black birds that followed them, croaking and cawing so loudly that nothing was ever heard like it before in the world.

It made the wandering spirit leap like a hunted hind, and in one of these leaps it set its foot on a firestone, which burnt and wounded it terribly.

“Who strewed these sharp stones here?” asked the soul; “they cover the ground like withered leaves.”

“Each thoughtless word,” replied the angel, “that fell on the heart of thy neighbour from thee, wounded him far more deeply than these stones on the ground have wounded thee.”

“Judge not and ye shall not be judged,” sounded through the air. “We are all sinners at times,” said the soul, taking courage; “the law and the gospel were my rules of life. I have done what I could: I am not like other people.”

And presently they arrived at the gates of neaven, and the angel who guarded the door asked the soul, “Who art thou? Tell me in what you believe, and show me your deeds.”

“I have all the commandments strictly kept, and with my whole heart and soul before the eyes of the world I have avoided the society of those wicked persons who travelled the broad road that leadeth to destruction, and I would have fought for my faith with fire and sword had it been necessary.”

“Then you are a Mahometan also?” asked the angel.

“I? Never!” was the earnest reply.

“‘They that take the sword shall perish by the sword,’” are the words of the Saviour. “Thou dost not believe this,” replied the angel. “Art thou a child of Israel to whom Moses said, ‘An eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth?’ A son of Israel, whose jealous God was only the God of his chosen people?”

“I am a Christian,” was the reply, more humbly.

“Then do not attempt to bear witness to your own faith and your own works. The Christian doctrine is, reconciliation to God through His infinite love and mercy.”

“Mercy!” How the word echoed through infinite space. The portals of heaven opened, and the redeemed soul entered into eternal glory.

But the ineffable light was so blinding, so overpowering, that the soul drew back as if it were a drawn sword.

Soft and overpowering music, which no earthly tongue can describe, filled the air, while the happy spirit trembled and bowed deeper and deeper before the glorious light of heaven, and felt, as it had never felt before, the great enormity of the sins it had committed during life.

But the load was lifted now, for in the heart all was light. The soul was ready also to own that the good deeds she had performed on earth were done through the divine help of “Another,” but the evil sprung from herself.

One glance at the clear glorious effulgence of the throne, and the soul, crushed with the overpowering brightness, sunk on the golden pavement of heaven in a swoon. She feared she was not fit for heaven, and that she had deceived herself, and she could only stammer faintly the word is “Mercy!”

And mercy and strength were given—mercy that was now certain, and not to be only hoped for.

The universe is God’s heaven, where His love shines forth with inexhaustible fulness,

“Holy, glorious, and beloved through all eternity will be the redeemed human soul,” was the song that resounded from the golden harps of heaven.

And God grant we may all, when our days on earth are ended, be as happy as this glorified spirit, even when it trembled before the crystal sea, and the glory and brightness of the Heavenly kingdom.

May we all through God’s love and mercy be enabled to enter on a new path in our earthly career—lighter, nobler, and purer; and feel, as death approaches, that we are always coming nearer to that glorious light, and with strength from God may at our last days wing our flight to that eternal home of brightness and peace.