more than the Paris of Denmark, for, in
respect to all that a great town collects or fosters, Copenhagen is
literally Denmark. There never was a stranger history than this of young
Andersen's. It is more like a dream than a life; it is like one of his
own tales for children, where the rigid laws of probability are
dispensed with in favour of a quite free and rapid invention. The
theatre is his point of attraction: but he was by no means determined in
what department, or under what form, his universal genius shall make its
appearance. He will first try dancing. He had heard of a celebrated
_danseuse_, a Madame Schall. To her he goes with a letter of
introduction, which he had coaxed out of an old printer in Odense, who,
though he protested he did not know the lady, was still prevailed upon
to write the letter. Dressed in his confirmation suit, a broad hat upon
his head, his boots, we may be sure, not forgotten, which were worn,
however, this time under the trousers, he finds out the residence of
Madame Schall, rings at the bell, and is admitted. "She looked at me
with great amazement," writes our author, "and then heard what I had to
say. She had not the slightest knowledge of him from whom the letter
came, and my whole appearance and behaviour seemed very strange to her.
I confessed to her my heartfelt inclination for the theatre; and upon
her asking me what character I thought I could represent, I replied
Cinderella. This piece had been performed in Odense by the royal
company, and the principal character had so taken my fancy, that I could
play the part perfectly from memory. In the mean time I asked her
permission to take off my boots, otherwise I was not light enough for
this character; and then, taking up my broad hat for a tambourine, I
began to dance and sing--

'Here below nor rank nor riches
Are exempt from pain and wo.'

My strange gestures and my great activity caused the lady to think me
out of my mind, and she lost no time in getting rid of me."

We should think so. Only imagine some wild colt of a boy, one of those
young Savoyards, for instance, who are in the habit of dancing round the
organ they are grinding, apparently to convince the world how sprightly
the tune is--imagine a genius of this natural description introducing
himself into the drawing-room of a Taglioni or an Elssler, and
commencing forthwith, "with great activity," to give a specimen of his
talent! Just such as this must have been t