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Updated: May 31, 2025
I wept and prayed, and at last my mother consented, after having first sent for a so-called wise-woman out of the hospital, that she might read my future fortune by the coffee-grounds and cards. "'Your son will become a great man! said the old woman; 'and in honour of him all Odense will one day be illuminated. "My mother wept when she heard that, and I obtained permission to travel."
I had written already in Rome the first chapter. It was my novel of "The Improvisatore." At one of my first visits to the theatre at Odense, as a little boy, where, as I have already mentioned, the representations were given in the German language, I saw the Donauweibchen, and the public applauded the actress of the principal part.
At last we were so fortunate, at a little after eleven o'clock at night, as to reach Korsör. We had taken twenty-two hours to go sixteen miles. "Glad we were to land; but it was extremely dark, and the lanterns gave very little light. However, all was wonderful to me, who had never been in any other town but Odense. "'Here Baggesen was born, said my father, 'and here Birckner lived.
The lad who walked about Odense with long yellow locks, bare-headed, and bare-footed, and who was half reconciled to being a tailor's apprentice, because he should get plenty of remnants to dress his puppets with is seen spending the evening with the royal family of Denmark, or dining with the King of Prussia, who decorates him with his order of the Red Eagle!
"Yes, and the amber heart!" said Sophie; "the little Napoleon of cast iron, and the officer who is pasted fast to the bottom of the box: that is a good friend in Odense, she lately told to me in confidence." "See what beautiful stone fences the Kammerjunker has made!" said the mother. "And how beautifully the cherry-trees grow! He is an industrious man!" They approached the garden.
Wilhelm would accompany him as far as Odense. It was, therefore, a double leave taking, here and there. "We will always remain friends, faithful friends!" said Wilhelm, when they parted. "Faithful friends!" repeated Otto, and they rolled away toward Middelfart; thus far should mamma's own carriage convey the excellent Otto.
"What I can tell you of Odense," said the Pastor, "is history, chiefly. There is the story that a rich man called Ubbe gave his property to St. His relatives wanted him to leave his property to them, and they placed a woman in his household, if possible, to influence him in their favour, and she did not. Ubbe had become blind.
Odense is the birth-place of Hans Christian Andersen, whose stories have been translated into English," continued Pastor Lindal; "but, like other translations, they lose immeasurably by translation." "What is the chief historical interest connected with Odense?" asked Mrs. Hardy. "The death of St. Knud," replied the Pastor. "He was the grand-nephew of Canute the Great.
In my opinion Andersen never wrote anything finer in the way of description than many parts of this work, though as a story it is not equal to his others. Funen revealed her rural life to me; and, not far from my birth-place of Odense, I passed several weeks at the country seat of the elder Iversen as a welcome guest. Poems sprung forth upon paper, but of the comic fewer and fewer.
He was born on April 2nd, 1805, in the city of Odense, in Denmark. The room in which he was born was kitchen, parlor, bedroom and workshop for the whole family, for the family of Andersen had little to do with, and little knowledge of how to make the best of what they had.
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