His whole retinue stared and stared. One saw no more than another, but they all joined the Emperor in exclaiming, ‘Oh! It’s very pretty,’ and they advised him to wear clothes made of this wonderful cloth especially for the great procession he was soon to lead. ‘Magnificent! Excellent! Unsurpassed!’ were bandied from mouth to mouth, and everyone did his best to seem well pleased. The Emperor gave each of the swindlers a cross to wear in his buttonhole, and the title of ‘Sir Weaver.’
Before the procession the swindlers sat up all night and burned more than six candles, to show how busy they were finishing the Emperor’s new clothes. They pretended to take the cloth off the loom. They made cuts in the air with huge scissors. And at last they said, ‘Now the Emperor’s new clothes are ready for him.’
Then the Emperor himself came with his noblest noblemen, and the swindlers each raised an arm as if they were holding something. They said, ‘These are the trousers, here’s the coat, and this is the mantle,’ naming each garment. ‘All of them are as light as a spider web. One would almost think he had nothing on, but that’s what makes them so fine.’
‘Exactly,’ all the noblemen agreed, though they could see nothing, for there was nothing to see.
‘If Your Imperial Majesty will condescend to take your clothes off,’ said the swindlers, ‘we will help you on with your new ones here in front of the long mirror.’
The Emperor undressed, and the swindlers pretended to put his new clothes on him, one garment after another. They took him around the waist and seemed to be fastening something – that was his train – as the Emperor turned round and round before the looking glass.
‘How well Your Majesty’s new clothes look. Aren’t they becoming!’ He heard on all sides, ‘That pattern, so perfect! Those colors, so suitable! It is a magnificent outfit.’
Then the minister of public processions announced: ‘Your Majesty’s canopy is waiting outside.’
‘Well, I’m supposed to be ready,’ the Emperor said, and turned again for one last look in the mirror. ‘It is a remarkable fit, isn’t it?’ He seemed to regard his costume with the greatest interest.
The noblemen who were to carry his train stooped low and reached for the floor as if they were picking up his mantle. Then they pretended to lift and hold it high. They didn’t dare admit they had nothing to hold.
So off went the Emperor in procession under his splendid canopy. Everyone in the streets and the windows said, ‘Oh, how fine are the Emperor’s new clothes! Don’t they fit him to perfection? And see his long train!’ Nobody would confess that he couldn’t see anything, for that would prove him either unfit for his position, or a fool. No costume the Emperor had worn before was ever such a complete success.
‘But he hasn’t got anything on,’ a little child said.
‘Did you ever hear such innocent prattle?’ said its father. And one person whispered to another what the child had said, ‘He hasn’t anything on. A child says he hasn’t anything on.’
‘But he hasn’t got anything on!’ the whole town cried out at last.
The Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, ‘This procession has got to go on.’ So he walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn’t there at all.
The Princess and the Pea
Once upon a time there was a prince who wanted to marry a princess; but she would have to be a real princess. He travelled all over the world to find one, but nowhere could he get what he wanted. There were princesses enough, but it was difficult to find out whether they were real ones. There was always something about them that was not as it should be. So he came home again and was sad, for he would have liked very much to have a real princess.
One evening a terrible storm came on; there was thunder and lightning, and the rain poured down in torrents. Suddenly a knocking was heard at the city gate, and the old king went to open it.
It was a princess standing out there in front of the gate. But, good gracious![14] what a sight the rain and the wind had made her look. The water ran down from her hair and clothes; it ran down into the toes of her shoes and out again at the heels. And yet she said that she was a real princess.
Well, we’ll soon find that out, thought the old queen. But she said nothing, went into the bedroom, took all the bedding off the bedstead, and laid a pea on the bottom; then she took twenty mattresses and laid them on the pea, and then twenty eider-down beds on top of the mattresses.
On this the princess had to lie all night. In the morning she was asked how she had slept.
‘Oh, very badly!’ said she. ‘I have scarcely closed my eyes all night. Heaven only knows what was in the bed, but I was lying on something hard, so that I am black and blue[15] all over my body. It’s horrible!’
Now they knew that she was a real princess because she had felt the pea right through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eider-down beds.
Nobody but a real princess could be as sensitive as that.
So the prince took her for his wife, for now he knew that he had a real princess; and the pea was put in the museum, where it may still be seen, if no one has stolen it.
There, that is a true story.
The Lion and the Mouse
Once when a Lion was asleep a little Mouse began running up and down upon him; this soon wakened the Lion, who placed his huge paw upon him, and opened his big jaws to swallow him. ‘Pardon, my King,’ cried the little Mouse: ‘forgive me this time, I shall never forget it: who knows but what I may be able to do you a turn[16] some of these days?’ The Lion was so tickled at[17] the idea of the Mouse being able to help him, that he lifted up his paw and let him go.
Some time after the Lion was caught in a trap, and the hunters who desired to carry him alive to the King, tied him to a tree while they went in search of a wagon to carry him on. Just then the little Mouse happened to pass by, and seeing the sad plight in which the Lion was, went up to him and soon gnawed[18] away the ropes that bound the King of the Beasts. ‘Was I not right?’ said the little Mouse.
The Small Red Feather
There once lived a man with his wife. They were very poor and always hungry. The man often went to the forest, but he was a bad hunter and sometimes brought home only a small bird.
One day he went to the forest again. But it was a very bad day for him: he did not find even a small bird. He was tired[19] and sad. He sat down to rest under a tree. Then he heard a sweet song of a bird.
He looked up and saw a very small bird whose feathers were red. The bird said, ‘I see that you are poor and hungry. I want to help you. I’ll give you one of my feathers. Take it home and cook it. You will have a good dinner. Come back tomorrow, and I’ll give you another feather.’
He thanked the bird and went home. He put the feather into a pot and told everything to his wife.
‘Silly, how can the feather become food?’ You must catch the bird and kill it. Then we can cook the bird and eat it.’
He did not answer, but looked into the pot and saw there a good dinner.
Every day he went to the forest, and every day the small bird gave him a red feather that made a dinner for the man and his wife.
But his wife was very greedy. Every day she said to the man, ‘We must not have only the little red feather. We must have the bird. Then we can cook two, three or four feathers every day and we shall have as much food as we like.’