The Snow Queen

“‘What a hoot!’ cried the Devil. If someone had a kind thought, then a sneer would appear in the mirror, which made the old goblin laugh at his own cunning. The goblins who went to goblin school—for you see, the Devil ran a goblin school—all chattered about the miracle. They thought that now they could see what humans and the world really looked like. They ran everywhere with the mirror and, in the end, there was not one person or country that it didn’t twist out of shape.”

The devil is pleased with the mirror because it twists goodness into the appearance of evil. This shows that the devil is bad, but the lighthearted tone—such as the reference to goblin school—makes the devil come across as less threatening than he otherwise might be. The reference to goblin school also makes the devil’s followers more relatable to young readers, which sends the subtle message that the devil’s followers are not so different from people. This both bolsters the book’s message that humankind is imperfect and foreshadows Kai’s vulnerability to the mirror. That the goblins believe what the mirror shows them points to The Power of Perspective; they trust the mirror because it reaffirms their cynical beliefs.

“Some pieces were hardly bigger than a grain of sand, and they flew all around the wide world—and whenever a piece got in someone’s eye, it stuck fast. Then the person could only see what was wrong with everything, because each of these tiny bits had the same power as the whole mirror. Some people also got a sliver of mirror in their hearts—and that was truly terrible, because it turned their hearts into lumps of ice.” 

The narrator describes how the world and its people are affected by the breaking of the mirror, foreshadowing what will befall Kai. The final line offers context for how the Snow Queen affects Kai with her magic. Here, the narrator explains that a sliver from the mirror can turn someone’s heart to ice, but it is the Snow Queen’s kiss that completes the process of freezing Kai’s heart. This makes it clear that the mirror and the Snow Queen have similar powers, linking the mirror to winter and the cold death it brings to the world.

“In the summer they could get to each other with a single leap, but in the winter they had to first go down many flights of stairs and then back up many more, while the snow flew around outside.”

Prior to this passage, the narrator has introduced the shared garden between Gerda’s and Kai’s windows, as well as how the windows must be closed in the winter to keep out the chill. These lines foreshadow how winter/the Snow Queen will come between Gerda and Kai, and they also show how the seasons change daily life. The summer brings closeness and ease of visiting for Gerda and Kai, symbolically linking it to love and a carefree existence. By contrast, winter is associated with struggle and isolation.

“‘What are you crying for?’ he asked. ‘You look revolting when you cry. There’s nothing wrong with me!’ he shouted. ‘Ugh! a worm’s been chewing on that rose! And look, that other one’s crooked! They’re disgusting! They look as ugly as the box they’re in!’”

Kai’s dialogue shows the immediate effect of the shards that have pierced his heart and eye, which alter both his perception and his capacity for empathy. His disgust with Gerda’s tears shows that he no longer cares for her as he did moments ago. Kai follows this up by noting how “revolting” she looks, showing that he now sees only ugliness where he once saw beauty and companionship. The roses further illustrate the mirror’s power. The flowers hold special significance to the children because they are the most beautiful flowers in their shared garden; they are also a traditional symbol of Jesus Christ. Thus, Kai noticing the worm and crooked flowers underscores that he can now only see imperfections while symbolically suggesting that he has lost his love for Gerda as well as his Christian faith.

“Kai gazed at her. She was so beautiful, and he could not imagine a more intelligent, lovely face. She no longer seemed made of ice, like she had when she’d sat outside his window and waved at him. In his eyes the Snow Queen was perfect, and he didn’t feel a bit scared.”

Kai is with the Snow Queen after she has taken him away from his village and frozen his heart. This passage definitively links her power to the mirror because she is the first thing Kai has found beautiful since the shards afflicted him. In his state of living death, the coldness of winter and ice seems perfect—a direct contrast to his opinion of the roses earlier. Kai’s transformation also makes him see the Snow Queen herself as both alive and “intelligent,” the latter appealing to his new emphasis on rationality. Kai’s lack of fear is a product of his frozen heart, which no longer feels emotion like it once did.

“‘Kai is dead and gone!’ Gerda cried.

‘I don’t believe it,’ the sunshine said.

‘He’s dead and gone!’ she told the swallows.

‘We don’t believe it!’ they replied.”

Months after Kai’s disappearance, Gerda grieves for him. This dialogue comes right before she decides she will search for Kai, and it shows the power of springtime. Gerda despaired during the winter, but now that the sun is bright and the birds have returned, her despair loses its grip on her, representing spring’s symbolic power of renewal. That the very sunshine—the embodiment of warmth and everything it evokes—speaks to Gerda also shows her goodness. The swallows are the first of many animals to help Gerda on her quest, foreshadowing how she will receive help from animals and people alike.

“Do you hear the drum? Boom! boom! Just two tones, always boom! boom! Listen to the dirge of the women! Listen to the shout of the priests! The Hindu wife stands on top of the bonfire in her long red dress, the flames leaping up around her and her dead husband. But the person the Hindu wife is thinking about is still alive! He’s here in the crowd—the man whose eyes burn hotter than the flames, the man whose fiery eyes touch her heart more than the flames that will soon burn her body to ash. Will the fire of her heart die in the bonfire flames?”

This is one of the tales told by the flowers in the old woman’s garden. This story belongs to the fire lily, and it represents this blossom’s fiery red coloration, which evokes both passion and flames—two things that feature prominently in the tale here. In a narrative that reflects imperial Europe’s fascination with sati, the flower tells of a woman who will literally burn with her dead husband but whose heart yearns for another, who sets her soul ablaze. Within the context of “The Snow Queen,” this tale directly contrasts with the symbolism of snow. Where Kai’s icy heart keeps him from feeling or caring, the fire here has the exact opposite effect. It amplifies emotions, reinforcing the link between heat and feelings—particularly love.

“Above a narrow mountain road, a castle clings to the rock. Thick periwinkle covers the ancient red walls, leaf by leaf; it covers the balcony. And there stands a lovely girl. She bends over the edge of the parapet and peers down the mountain pass. No rose on its stem blooms more freshly than she does; no apple blossom, when the wind carries it from the tree, drifts more delicately. How her splendid silk gown rustles! And she wonders: ‘Is he coming?’”

This story belongs to the morning glory in the old woman’s garden. Morning glories have various meanings in different cultures, including unrequited love and human mortality. This passage hints at both: The young girl waits for a potential lover, not knowing if he loves her and will come, and the girl’s beauty will fade with time whether her love comes or not. This tale presents an inverted version of Gerda’s quest. The boy, Kai, is the one within a castle, and though he does not know he is waiting for Gerda, she is coming for him. The girl’s situation therefore underscores that Kai needs to be rescued.

“Among the trees, a long board is hanging from ropes: a swing. Two charming girls—their dresses white as snow, long green ribbons of silk fluttering from their hats—sit and swing, while their big brother stands upon the board. He has an arm wrapped around one rope to hold himself up, for he has a small bowl in one hand and a clay pipe in the other; he’s blowing soap bubbles.”

This story is told by the snowdrop, the name of which makes it particularly relevant to “The Snow Queen.” Because they bloom early, snowdrops are often a symbol of hope and renewal, and the story the snowdrop tells calls to Kai and Gerda’s untroubled past. The imagery is of simpler days and children at play, much like Gerda and Kai before the mirror’s shards afflicted Kai with their evil magic; it offers a glimpse into how beautiful and carefree life can be, evoking The Innocence of Childhood. This tale foreshadows Gerda rescuing Kai and the two returning to their happy lives.

“There once were three charming sisters, delicate and fair. The first sister’s gown was red, the second sister’s blue, the third’s quite white. Hand in hand, they danced beside the still lake in the bright moonlight. They were not elf-girls; they were human. Then there came a very sweet smell, and the girls disappeared into the forest. The sweet smell grew stronger. Three coffins—with the three girls inside—drift from the thick forest across the lake. Fireflies hover, glowing like small candles in the air. Are the dancing girls asleep, or are they dead? The smell of flowers says they are corpses. The evening bell tolls for the dead!”

This tale is told by the hyacinth. The best-known story about hyacinths comes from Greek mythology, which associated the flower with the Spartan prince Hyacinthus. Like the girls here, Hyacinthus was known for his beauty and his premature death. For Gerda, this story serves as a warning that appearances can be deceptive; in this case, the flowers’ sweet scent leads the girls to their deaths. The fate of the three sisters is also a cautionary tale about what could happen if Gerda is not careful on her quest.

“In a small courtyard, the glorious sun shines warmly on the first day of spring; its rays slide down the neighbour’s white wall. The first yellow flowers grow close by, gleaming gold in the hot sunbeams. An old grandmother is sitting out in her chair. Her granddaughter, the beautiful poor servant girl, has come home for a quick visit; she kisses her grandmother. There is gold—heart’s gold—in that blessed kiss. Gold on the mouth, gold in the earth, gold high in the early morning air!”

This story is told by the buttercup and strongly anticipates the ending of “The Snow Queen,” which sees Kai and Gerda reunited with the grandmother amid summer sunshine. The girl’s kiss also contrasts with that of the Snow Queen. Where the Snow Queen’s kiss brings harm and darkness, the girl here is all goodness; the recurring motif thus calls attention to the ever-present battle between good and evil.

“Up in a tiny attic room, half dressed, stands a little dancer. Now she stands on one leg, now two, she kicks for the entire world to see; she’s just a trick of the light. She pours water from the teapot onto a piece of clothing in her hand; it’s her corset. Being clean is being good! Her white dress hangs on a hook. It too has been washed in the teapot and dried on the roof. She puts it on and then wraps her scarf around her neck. The scarf is saffron yellow, which makes the dress shine even more whitely. Leg in the air—see how she struts on one stalk! I can see myself! I can see myself!” 

This is the last flower story Gerda hears before she leaves the garden; she is running for the exit when the narcissus stops her, which is in keeping with the flower’s symbolism. In Greek myth, the youth Narcissus became entranced with his reflection, and various tellings describe how he then became the narcissus flower. This narcissus is similarly vain and also describes a dancer who is “a trick of the light.” The implication that perception—including self-perception—can be unreliable resonates with the mirror’s impact on Kai.

“‘No, I haven’t learned crow,’ said Gerda. ‘But Grandmother knows it, and she speaks pigeon too. If only I’d learned!’”

Prior to these lines, a friendly crow has begun to tell Gerda it thinks Kai is with a princess. The crow laments that the telling would be easier if Gerda spoke crow, which prompts this response from Gerda. The crow’s ability to tell the story anyway implies that things will work out even under imperfect conditions and underscores Gerda’s affinity for nature—a mark of her goodness and purity.

“‘Those are only dreams,’ said the tame crow. ‘They come for the royal family’s thoughts and take them hunting—which is good, since then it will be easy to look at the prince and princess in their beds. But if they give you honour and power, I’d like you to remember who to thank!’”

Gerda and the crow are sneaking into the palace to visit the sleeping prince and princess. Gerda has just seen moving shadows that resemble a hunting party, which the crow explains are dreams; when Gerda falls asleep later, her own dreams take the form of angels pulling a sled with Kai on it, implying that dreams change form according to people’s desires.

“‘Would you like to fly free?’ the princess asked them. ‘Or would you like steady jobs as court crows, with all the scraps you want from the kitchen?’

Both crows bowed and asked for steady jobs. They said, ‘It’s good to have something for the old fellow’—which is what they called their old age.”

The princess’s offer shows her kindness. Instead of being upset that the crows snuck Gerda into her bedchamber, she is glad of the opportunity to offer Gerda the help she needs, and she shows her appreciation for what the crows did by offering them a position among the palace staff. The princess’s response establishes a pattern that recurs throughout the rest of the story as each character Gerda encounters recognizes her worth and offers her help.

“They were in the courtyard of the bandits’ castle, which had great cracks running from top to bottom. Ravens and crows flew out of the gaps, and giant bulldogs—each looking like it could swallow a person whole—leapt high in the air. But they did not bark, because that was forbidden.”

Gerda and the bandit girl have just arrived at the bandit castle. Unlike the castle of the prince and princess, this castle is run-down and dirty, showing the visible differences between royalty and bandits. The dangerous-looking animals also suggest that the bandits are very different from royalty, but as Gerda spends time among the bandits, she finds this is not the case. Thus, the outward appearance of the bandit castle obscures the bandits’ goodness. The bandit girl offers Gerda just as much hospitality and help as the prince and princess, showing that birth and status do not define who someone is or how they will respond to others while also underscoring Gerda’s positive impact on those around her.

“‘We can’t let him go free either, otherwise he’ll run away. I tickle his throat every night with my sharp knife—he gets so scared!’ And she drew a long knife out of a crack in the wall and let it slide across the reindeer’s throat. The poor creature kicked out its legs, but the bandit girl just laughed and pulled Gerda down into the bed beside her.”

Among the bandit girl’s trapped animals is the reindeer mentioned here. Though the bandit girl is ultimately a good person, she has morally ambiguous qualities. Her treatment of the reindeer and enjoyment of the creature’s reaction show that she has a darker side, as befits her bandit status. That she stops short of killing the reindeer also foreshadows that she will let the reindeer go free to help Gerda.

“The girl jumped out of bed. She went over and grabbed her mother by the neck and pulled on her beard, saying, ‘My sweet little billy goat—good morning!’ And her mother flicked the girl under the nose until it turned red and blue, but it was all done out of love.”

Like many fairy tales, “The Snow Queen” relies heavily on archetypes. Even the bandits’ expressions of love and other good qualities therefore reflect their lightly “villainous” nature. However, the bandits’ “badness” is distinct from the kind of evil embodied by the story’s true antagonist, which precludes the very possibility of love.

“The reindeer told her Gerda’s entire story—but first it told the woman its own story, because it felt that was much more important, and because Gerda was so weak with cold that she couldn’t speak.”

Like the crows, the reindeer thinks of itself and what it wants: The animal knows how badly Gerda wants to find Kai, but it talks about itself first. This represents the tendency of even good people to be self-centered and contrasts with Gerda’s selflessness.

“I know you can bind all the winds of the world in a piece of thread. And if a sea captain unties one knot, he’ll have good wind; if he unties another, it’ll blow hard; and if he unties a third and fourth, storms will rage till the forests fall down.”

The reindeer says this to the Finnish woman when it asks her to aid Gerda in her quest to rescue Kai. The knots the reindeer mentions here evoke the “wind knots” of many northern European countries. The practice hinged on the idea that witches could gather mountain winds in a string and knot them by gust strength; sailors would then purchase these strings and untie the knots as needed on their voyages. The reference therefore informs readers that the Finnish woman is a powerful witch. This becomes more pertinent a few paragraphs later when the Finnish woman says she cannot give Gerda more power than the girl already has, suggesting that Gerda’s purity is at least as powerful as any magic.

“Some looked like big ugly porcupines, others like great knots of snakes whose heads all poked outward, and others like fat little bears whose fur stuck straight out—all of the snowflakes brilliant white, all of them alive.”

Gerda has just entered the Snow Queen’s territory. The living snowflakes are the Snow Queen’s soldiers, and their misshapen forms echo the relationship between evil and distortion throughout the story. The particular similes are suggestive as well: Snakes are often associated with evil in mythology, the porcupine is known for its angry-looking quills, and bears are often dangerous in folklore.

“And in the middle of one endless, empty room of snow was a frozen lake. It had cracked into a thousand pieces, and each piece was exactly like every other one, the whole thing a vast work of art. And in the centre of it all sat the Snow Queen, when she was home, and then she would say that she sat in the mirror of reason—the best and only one of its kind in the entire world.”

This paragraph is part of a longer description of the Snow Queen’s palace, which is entirely made of ice and houses. The frozen and cracked lake contrasts with the fluid and moving nature of water, evoking the broader contrast between death and life. The Snow Queen refers to this lake as a mirror, underscoring its relationship to the mirror the devil breaks in Chapter 1. She further associates it with “reason,” which highlights the story’s negative depiction of rationality untampered by emotion. Like the devil’s mirror, this one presumably distorts what it reflects, not least because it is literally broken.

“‘I want to peer into some black kettles!’ She was talking about those mountains that belch fire, the ones called Etna and Vesuvius. ‘I’m going to make them a bit white—it’s just what they need. Some snow will go well with the lemons and grapes there!’”

Before Gerda’s arrival, the Snow Queen decides to leave the palace to deliver frost to the volcanos, which is why she is missing when the girl arrives. Andersen therefore subverts the fairy-tale tradition by not having the hero vanquish the villain. However, rather than escaping the hero because she is cunning or powerful, the Snow Queen avoids defeat simply by being away at the right moment. Moreover, Andersen notes that the Snow Queen could have returned without altering the story’s ending; once Kai is free from the mirror shards, the Snow Queen has no power to imprison him. The story thus suggests that the struggle against evil is primarily an internal one.