“I will fly to these royal birds,” he exclaimed, “and they will kill me because. I am very ugly, and I must not approach them. But it does not matter. Let them kill me. It’s better. The ducks peck me, the hens beat me, the maiden who feeds the poultry pushes me. If they don’t kill me, I’ll starve with hunger in the winter”.
Then he flew to the water and swam towards the beautiful swans. When they saw the stranger they rushed to meet him.
“Kill me,” said the poor bird and he bent his head down to the surface of the water and awaited death.
But what did he see in the clear stream below? His own image-no longer a dark-gray bird, ugly and disagreeable, but a graceful and beautiful swan!
He was born in a duck’s nest in a farmyard but he came from a swan’s egg! He now felt glad. He suffered sorrow and trouble, and it enabled him to enjoy all the pleasure and happiness around him. The great swans swam round the newcomer and stroked his neck with their beaks.
Into the garden presently came some little children and threw bread and cake into the water.
“See,” cried the youngest, “there is a new one;” and the rest were delighted, and ran to their father and mother. They were dancing and clapping their hands and shouting joyously,
“There is another swan here; a new one!”
Then they threw more bread and cake into the water and said,
“The new swan is the most beautiful of all, he is so young and pretty!”
And the old swans bowed their heads before him.
Then he felt quite ashamed and hid his head under his wing. He did not know what to do, he was so happy! But he was not at all proud. They persecuted and despised him for his ugliness, and now the said he was the most beautiful of all the birds! Even the elder tree bent down its boughs into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and bright.
Then he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully, from the depths of his heart,
“I never dreamed of such happiness while I was the despised ugly duckling!”
The Emperor’s New Clothes
Many years ago there lived an Emperor who was so monstrous fond of fine new clothes that he spent all his money on it. He wanted to be really smart. He didn’t care about his army, he didn’t didn’t care about his people. He only wanted to show his new clothes. He had a coat for every hour in the day. As people say about a king, that “he’s holding a council”, so in this country they always said, “The Emperor is in his dressing room”.
In the great city where he lived, life was very pleasant. Lots of strangers came there every day; and one day there arrived two swindlers. They said that they were weavers, and said they knew how to make the loveliest dress in the world. Not only were the colours and patterns extraordinarily pretty, but the clothes had this marvellous property: they were invisible to anyone who could not work well or was intolerably stupid.
“Very excellent clothes those must be,” thought the Emperor; “if I put them on, I’ll be able to tell which are the men in my realm who aren’t fit for the posts they hold. I’ll be able to tell clever people from stupid ones[9]. I must have these clothes!”
He gave the two swindlers a large sum in advance, and they began their work. They set up two looms and pretended to be working. But they hadn’t a vestige of anything on the looms. In hot haste they demanded the finest of silk and the best of gold, which they stuffed into their own pockets. And they worked at the bare looms till any hour of the night.
“I want to know how they are working,” thought the Emperor. But to tell the truth he was afraid. Anyone who was stupid or unsuited to his post couldn’t see the dress. Of course, he was sure that he needn’t be afraid for himself. but he decided to send someone else first. Everybody in the whole city knew what a marvellous power was in the dress. So everybody was agog to see how incompetent and how stupid his neighbour was.
“I’ll send my good old minister to the weavers,” thought the Emperor; “he can quite well see everything. He’s an intelligent man, and suited for his post”.
So the old minister went into the hall where the two swindlers were sitting working at the bare loom.
“My God!” thought the old minister. He was staring with all his eyes; “I can’t see anything”; but he didn’t say so.
Both the swindlers begged him to step nearer, and asked if here were not a pretty pattern and beautiful colours. They pointed to the bare looms, and the poor old minister was staring at it, but he couldn’t see anything, because there was nothing.
“Oh God!” thought he; “can I be stupid? I never thought so, and nobody must know it. Can I be unfit for my office? No, no! I won’t say anybody about my defeat”.
“Well, have you nothing to say about it?” said the one who was weaving.
“Oh, it’s charming! Most delightful!” said the old minister. He was looking through his spectacles. “The pattern! The colour! Yes, indeed, I must tell the Emperor I am infinitely pleased with it”.
“We are glad indeed to hear it,” said both the weavers, and proceeded to describe the colours and the uncommon pattern. The old minister listened carefully so as to be able to repeat it when he went back to the Emperor. So he did. The swindlers now demanded more money and more silk and gold for the weaving. They pocketed it all. And, as before, they were weaving at the bare loom.
Very soon, the Emperor sent another honest official over to see the progress. Will the clothes be ready soon? The official was just like the minister. He looked and looked, but there was nothing there but the empty loom. He saw nothing.
“Well, isn’t that fine?” said both the swindlers. They were exhibiting and explaining the lovely patterns that weren’t there at all.
“Stupid, I am not,” thought the man; “it must be my nice post that I’m not fit for? That is a good joke! But I mustn’t tell people anything”.
So he praised the dress which he couldn’t see, and assured the swindlers of his pleasure in the pretty colours and the exquisite pattern.
“Yes, it is positively sweet,” he told the Emperor. Everybody in the city was talking of the splendid dress.
At last the Emperor decided to see it, while it was still on the loom, with many people-among them the two worthy officials. He went over to the two clever swindlers, who were now weaving hard; only without a vestige of a thread.
“Now, is not that magnificent?” said both the worthy officials “Will Your Majesty deign to note the beauty of the pattern and the colours”; and they pointed to the bare loom. They thought all the rest could certainly see the dress.
“What’s the meaning of this?” thought the Emperor. “I can’t see anything! This is terrible! Am I stupid? Am I not fit to be Emperor? That is the most frightful thing”.
“Oh, it’s very pretty, it has my all-highest approval!” said the Emperor. He was nodding complacently and gazing on the empty loom. Of course, he wouldn’t say he could see nothing. The whole of the suite he had with him looked and looked, but saw nothing. However, they said, too: “Oh, it’s very pretty!” And they advised him to put on this splendid new dress on the occasion of a great procession. The procession will take place shortly.
“Magnificent! Exquisite! Excellent!” went from mouth to mouth. The whole company was in the highest state of gratification. The Emperor gave each of the swindlers a knight’s cross and the title of “Gentleman in Weaving”.
The whole night the swindlers sat up, and lit sixteen candles. People could see they were working hard to finish the Emperor’s new clothes. They clipped with scissors in the air, they sewed with a needle without thread-and finally they said: “Look now! The clothes are finished!”
The Emperor with the noblest of his personal attendants came thither himself. Each of the swindlers raised an arm in the air as if holding something up, and said:
“See, here are the hose, this is the coat, this is the mantle, and so on. It is as light as a spider’s web. But that is, of course, the beauty of it”.
“Yes”, said all the attendants. But they couldn’t see anything, for there was absolutely nothing in the room.
“Will Your Imperial Majesty graciously take off your clothes?” said the swindlers. “We can then put the new ones upon you here, before the large mirror”.
The Emperor took off all his clothes, and the swindlers behaved as if they were handing him each piece of the new suit. They put their hands about his waist and pretended to tie some thing securely. The Emperor turned and twisted himself in front of the glass.
“Heaven! How well it fits? How beautifully it sets,” said everyone. “The pattern! The colours! It is indeed a noble costume!”
“They are waiting, outside, with the canopy, Your Majesty,” said the chief master of the ceremonies[10].
“Very well, I am ready,” said the Emperor; “doesn’t it set well?”
Once more he turned about in front of the glass.
“Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” said everybody reverently.
So the Emperor walked in the procession under the beautiful canopy, and everybody in the streets and at the windows said:
“Lord! How splendid the Emperor’s new clothes are. What a lovely coat! How beautiful!”
Nobody wanted to be stupid or incompetent. None of the Emperor’s costumes had such a success.
“But he is naked!” suddenly said a little child.
“Really. Listen to the innocent child”, said its father.
And one whispered to the other the child’s words:
“That little boy says that the Emperor is naked!”
“The Emperor is naked!” the whole crowd was shouting at last; and the Emperor’s shuddered. It seemed to him they were right.
“But all the same,” he thought to himself, “I must go through with the procession”.
So he held himself more proudly than before. And the procession went on.
The Princess On The Pea
Once upon a time there was a Prince, and he wanted to marry a Princess; but she must be a real Princess. So he traveled all the world over to find one, but everywhere there was some obstacle. There were Princesses enough, but he was not quite certain whether they were real proper princesses. There was always something not perfectly correct. So he came back home and was very sad. He wanted to find a real princess.
One evening there was a terrible storm. It lightened and thundered and the rain poured down. It was quite fearful. There came a knock at the town gate and the old King went off to open it.
It was a gracious Princess. She was standing outside. But what a figure she was with the rain and bad weather! The water ran all down her hair and her clothes and in at the toes of her shoes and out at the heels. She said she was a real Princess.
“Ah, we’ll check it”, thought the old Queen to herself.
But she didn’t say anything. She went into the bedroom, took all the clothes off the bed and laid one dried pea on the bottom of the bed. Then she took twenty mattresses and laid them on top of the pea, and then twenty eiderdowns on top of the mattresses. There the Princess was sleeping that night.
In the morning they ask her how she was sleeping.
“Oh, dreadfully badly,” said the Princess; “I hardly closed my eyes the whole night! There was something terrible in my bed! There was something hard I lay on. It’s quite dreadful”.
Then everybody could see that this was a real Princess. She felt the pea through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eiderdowns. Nobody could have such a tender skin but a real Princess.
So the Prince married her. Now he knew that he had a real Princess.
They put the pea in the treasure chamber, where everyone can see it nowadays.
The Little Mermaid
Far out in the sea the water is as blue as the petals of the cornflowers, and as clear as the clearest glass. But it is very deep, deeper than any anchor-cable can reach. Down there live the sea people.
Now you must not think that there is only a white sandy bottom there. No, no: there the most extraordinary trees and plants grow, which have stems and leaves. They stir at the slightest movement of the water. All the fish, big and little, flit among the branches, like the birds in the air up here.
In the deepest place of all lies the sea king’s palace. The walls are of coral, and the tall windows are of the clearest amber. But the roof is of mussel-shells. They open and shut themselves as the water moves. It all looks beautiful, for in every shell lie shining pearls. A single one of these pearls can be the principal ornament in a Queen’s crown.
The sea King is a widower for many years. His old mother kept house for him. She was a clever woman, and proud of her rank. She was fond of the little sea Princesses, her grandchildren. There were six of them, beautiful children, but the youngest was the prettiest of them all. Her skin was as bright and pure as a rose-leaf, her eyes were as blue as the deepest lake. But like all the rest, she had no feet-her body ended in a fish’s tail.
All the day they were playing in the palace in the great halls. The big windows of amber stood open, and the fishes swam in through them.
Outside the palace there was a large garden with fiery red and dark blue trees, whose fruit shone like gold, and their flowers were like a flaming fire. They were always moving their stems and leaves.
The ground was of the finest sand, but blue like the flame of sulphur. Down there lay a wonderful blue sheen. In a calm you could see the sun: it looked like a purple flower.
Each of the young Princesses had her little plot in the garden, where she could dig and plant as she liked. Some Princesses made their flower-bed in the shape of a whale, other preferred the shape of a little mermaid, but the youngest made hers quite round, like the sun. She only had flowers that shone red. She was an odd child, quiet and thoughtful. Whereas her other sisters were decking out their gardens with the quaintest things, that they took from sunken ships, she only had red flowers that were like the sun and a pretty statue of marble. It was of a handsome boy, which came down to the sea bottom from a wreck.
Beside the statue she planted a rose-red weeping willow[11], which grew splendidly and hung its fresh branches over it, right down to the blue sand bottom.
She liked to dream about the world of men up above. The old grandmother told her all she knew about ships and horses and men and animals. It seemed to her particularly delightful that up there on earth the flowers smelt sweet (which they did not at the sea bottom). She was surprised that the woods were green and the fish which one saw among the branches could sing loud and prettily. It was a joy to hear them. It was the little birds that the grandmother called fish. The little mermaid never saw a bird.
“When you’re fifteen years old,” said the grandmother, “I’ll allow you to come up out of the sea and sit on the rocks in the moonlight. You’ll see big ships and forests and houses”.
The eldest sister promised the next one to tell her everything about the outer world. Of course, for their grandmother didn’t tell them enough. There were very many things the mermaids wanted to know about.
The youngest mermaid was quiet and thoughtful. Many nights she stood at the open window and gazed up through the dark blue waters where the fish were waving their fins and tails. She could see the moon and the stars. Of course they were very pale, but they looked much larger than they do to our eyes.
If a black passed along beneath them, she knew that it was either a whale, or even a ship with a number of people in it. Certainly they never thought that beneath them there was a lovely little mermaid.
And now the eldest Princess was fifteen years old and could rise up above the surface of the sea.