Hans Christian Andersens Fairy Tales | Page 5

and the title of "Gentlemen Weavers."
The rogues sat up the whole of the night before the day on which the procession was to
take place, and had sixteen lights burning, so that everyone might see how anxious they
were to finish the Emperor's new suit. They pretended to roll the cloth off the looms; cut
the air with their scissors; and sewed with needles without any thread in them. "See!"
cried they, at last. "The Emperor's new clothes are ready!"
And now the Emperor, with all the grandees of his court, came to the weavers; and the
rogues raised their arms, as if in the act of holding something up, saying, "Here are your
Majesty's trousers! Here is the scarf! Here is the mantle! The whole suit is as light as a
cobweb; one might fancy one has nothing at all on, when dressed in it; that, however, is
the great virtue of this delicate cloth."
"Yes indeed!" said all the courtiers, although not one of them could see anything of this
exquisite manufacture.
"If your Imperial Majesty will be graciously pleased to take off your clothes, we will fit
on the new suit, in front of the looking glass."
The Emperor was accordingly undressed, and the rogues pretended to array him in his

new suit; the Emperor turning round, from side to side, before the looking glass.
"How splendid his Majesty looks in his new clothes, and how well they fit!" everyone
cried out. "What a design! What colors! These are indeed royal robes!"
"The canopy which is to be borne over your Majesty, in the procession, is waiting,"
announced the chief master of the ceremonies.
"I am quite ready," answered the Emperor. "Do my new clothes fit well?" asked he,
turning himself round again before the looking glass, in order that he might appear to be
examining his handsome suit.
The lords of the bedchamber, who were to carry his Majesty's train felt about on the
ground, as if they were lifting up the ends of the mantle; and pretended to be carrying
something; for they would by no means betray anything like simplicity, or unfitness for
their office.
So now the Emperor walked under his high canopy in the midst of the procession,
through the streets of his capital; and all the people standing by, and those at the windows,
cried out, "Oh! How beautiful are our Emperor's new clothes! What a magnificent train
there is to the mantle; and how gracefully the scarf hangs!" in short, no one would allow
that he could not see these much-admired clothes; because, in doing so, he would have
declared himself either a simpleton or unfit for his office. Certainly, none of the
Emperor's various suits, had ever made so great an impression, as these invisible ones.
"But the Emperor has nothing at all on!" said a little child.
"Listen to the voice of innocence!" exclaimed his father; and what the child had said was
whispered from one to another.
"But he has nothing at all on!" at last cried out all the people. The Emperor was vexed,
for he knew that the people were right; but he thought the procession must go on now!
And the lords of the bedchamber took greater pains than ever, to appear holding up a
train, although, in reality, there was no train to hold.

THE SWINEHERD
There was once a poor Prince, who had a kingdom. His kingdom was very small, but still
quite large enough to marry upon; and he wished to marry.
It was certainly rather cool of him to say to the Emperor's daughter, "Will you have me?"
But so he did; for his name was renowned far and wide; and there were a hundred
princesses who would have answered, "Yes!" and "Thank you kindly." We shall see what
this princess said.
Listen!

It happened that where the Prince's father lay buried, there grew a rose tree--a most
beautiful rose tree, which blossomed only once in every five years, and even then bore
only one flower, but that was a rose! It smelt so sweet that all cares and sorrows were
forgotten by him who inhaled its fragrance.
And furthermore, the Prince had a nightingale, who could sing in such a manner that it
seemed as though all sweet melodies dwelt in her little throat. So the Princess was to
have the rose, and the nightingale; and they were accordingly put into large silver caskets,
and sent to her.
The Emperor had them brought into a large hall, where the Princess was playing at
"Visiting," with the ladies of the court; and when she saw the caskets with the presents,
she clapped her hands for joy.
"Ah, if it were but a little pussy-cat!" said she; but the rose tree,