“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.

When she came back she had a hundred things to tell. The most beautiful thing, she said, was to lie on a sandbank in the moonlight in the calm sea, and to see the big town where the lights twinkled like hundreds of stars, and to hear the sound of music and the noise of carts and people, and see all the church towers and hear the bells.

The youngest sister listened and dreamed! And when, in the evening, she stood at the open window and gazed up through the dark blue water, she thought about the big town and all the noise.

The year after, the second sister rose up through the water and swam where she liked. She saw how the sun was going down, and the sight of that was the most beautiful of all. The whole heaven, she said, looked like gold, and the clouds sailed past above her.

Next year the third sister went up. She was the boldest of them all. She swam up a broad river that ran into the sea. She saw beautiful green hills, with rows of vines upon them. Palaces and mansions peeped out from the woods. She heard the songs of the birds, and the sun shone very brightly.

In a little inlet she saw a crowd of young human children. They were naked, and ran about and splashed in the water. She wanted to play with them, but they ran away in a fright. Then came a little black creature (it was a dog) and it barked at her so dreadfully that she was terrified and swam away. She could not forget the splendid woods and the green hills and the pretty children who swam in the water, though they had no fish-tails.

The fourth sister stayed out in the lonely sea, and told them that that was the most beautiful of all. You could see many miles all round, and the sky was like a great bell of glass. She saw the merry dolphins and the big whales. It looked like hundreds of fountains all around her.

Now came the turn of the fifth sister. Her birthday was in winter. The sea was green, and round about there floated large icebergs. Every iceberg was like a pearl, she said, and yet they were bigger than the church towers that men built. They were like diamonds. She was sitting on one of the largest, and all the ships made a wide circle in fear. In the evening the sky was covered with clouds, it lightened and thundered.

Many times the five sisters linked arms together and rose in a row above the water. They had lovely voices, more beautiful than any human being’s. When a storm was coming on, they were swimming before the ships and singing beautifully. But the people could not understand their words; they thought it was the storm. And the people did not see any beautiful things either. When the ship sank they were drowned, and only dead corpses reached the sea King’s palace.

When the sisters rose up through the sea, arm in arm, their little sister stayed quite alone.

“Oh! When I am fifteen,” she said, “I shall become really fond of that world up there and of the people who have their homes there!”

At last she was fifteen years old.

“There now!” said the grandmother, the old widow Queen. “Come here, and let me dress you”.

She put a wreath of white lilies on her hair, only every petal in the flower was a half-pearl. And eight large oysters held tight the Princess’s tail, to indicate her high rank.

“But it hurts so,” said the little mermaid.

“Yes, you must suffer a little for smartness’ sake[12],” said the old lady.

Oh dear! The little mermaid wanted to shake off all this finery and put away the heavy wreath. But she dare not change it.

“Good-bye”, she said, and rose as a bubble, up through the water.

She lifted her head above the sea, but all the clouds were still glowing like gold and roses. In the midst of the pale red heaven the evening star shone clear and beautiful. The air was soft and cool, and the sea calm. There lay a great ship with three masts. Only a single sail was set. On the rigging and on the yard[13], sailors were sitting. She heard music and songs.

The little mermaid swam straight up to the cabin window. She saw through the windows many gaily dressed people. The handsomest of them all was the young Prince with the big black eyes. He was certainly not much over sixteen, and this was his birthday. The sailors danced on the deck, and when the young Prince came out there, more than a hundred rockets shot up into the sky. The little mermaid was frightened and dived down beneath the water. But soon she put up her head again.

Great suns whizzed round, splendid fire-fish darted into the blue heaven. On the ship itself there was so much light that you could see every rope. Oh! How handsome the young Prince was! He shook hands with the crew and smiled and laughed.

It was already late, but the little mermaid could not take her eyes off the ship and the beautiful Prince. No more rockets flew up into the sky, but deep down in the sea there was a murmur and a rumbling.

Meanwhile she sat on the water and swung up and down, so that she could see into the cabin. The waves rose higher, there was lightning. Oh, there will be a terrible storm. The ship dived down like a swan between the tall billows, and rose again over the waters. To the little mermaid it seemed just a pleasant jaunt, but not so to the sailors. The ship creaked and cracked, the stout planks bent. The mast snapped in the midst, and the water rushed into the ship’s hull. Now the little mermaid saw they were in peril. The broken pieces of the ship were driven about in the sea. At one instant it was so dark that she could see nothing. When it lightened, it was so bright that she could see everyone on board. Everyone was leaping off.

She saw the young Prince, he was sinking down into the deep. For a moment she was full of joy that now he was coming down to her; but then she remembered that men could not live in the water. He will never come alive to her father’s palace. No, he must not die! So she swam to the young Prince. His arms and legs were beginning to tire, his beautiful eyes were closing. The little mermaid came to him. She held his head above the water.

At dawn the tempest was over. The Prince’s eyes were closed. The mermaid kissed his fair high forehead and stroked back his wet hair. He resembled the marble statue in her little garden. She kissed him again.

And now she saw in front of her the dry land. Lemon and apple trees grew in the garden, and before the gate were tall palms. At this spot the sea made a little bay; it was calm. Hither she swam with the fair Prince and laid him on the sand.

The bells rang out from the great white building, and a number of young maidens came out through the gardens. The little mermaid swam away, behind some high boulders. Suddenly young girl came that way, and was quite terrified, but only for a moment. Then she fetched more people, and the Prince revived. But he, of course, did not know that she rescued him. She felt very sad and dived sorrowfully down into the water. She swam home to her father’s palace.

The sisters were asking her about the outer world, but she did not tell them anything about it.

Every evening and morning she went up to that place. She saw how the fruits in the garden grew ripe and were picked. She saw how the snow melted on the high mountains. But she never saw the Prince. So she always turned homeward sadder than before.

At home, she was sitting in her little garden and looking at the fair marble statue which was like the Prince. At last she told one of her sisters. One of her sister’s friend knew who the Prince was. She knew where he came from and where his kingdom lay.

“Come, little sister,” said the other Princesses, and they rose in a long line out of the sea in front of the spot where they knew the Prince’s palace was.

It was a palace of pale yellow shining stone, with great marble steps. Stately gilded domes rose above the roof, and between the pillars stood statues of marble. Through the clear glass of the tall windows you could see into the noble halls. In the middle of the largest hall a great fountain.

Now the little mermaid knew where the Prince lived. She swam close to the land. She even went right up the narrow canal beneath the balcony of marble. Here she was sitting and gazing at the young Prince.

Many times she saw him in his splendid boat, where the flags waved. She thought of how close his head lay on her bosom, and how lovingly she kissed him then. He knew nothing about it, and could not dream about her.

She became fonder and fonder of human people. Their world, she thought, was far larger than hers. They could fly over the sea in ships, climb the mountains; and the lands they owned stretched over forests and fields. She wanted to know a lot, but her sisters could not answer all her questions. So she asked the old grandmother: she knew well the upper world, as she called the countries above the sea.

“If the human people aren’t drowned,” the little mermaid inquired, “do they for ever? Don’t they die as we do down here in the sea?”

“Yes,” said the old lady, “they die, too, and besides, their lifetime is shorter than ours. We can live for three hundred years, but then we only turn to foam on the water. We have no immortal souls, we never live again. Humans, on the other hand, have a soul that lives always. It rises up through the clear air, up to all the shining stars; just as we rise out of the sea. And then they live in the heavenly world “.

“Why did we have no immortal souls?” said the little mermaid, very sadly. “I can give all my hundreds of years for only one human day. I want to live in the heavenly world.”

“Don’t think about that,” said the old lady, “we are much happier and better!”

“So when I die and float like foam on the sea, I won’t get an everlasting soul?”

“No,” said the old lady, “only if a human being loves you, then his soul will flow over into your body. He will give you a soul. But that can never happen. Your beautiful fish’s tail, which is very beautiful here, people treat like a horrid one. Up there people must have two clumsy props which they call legs”.

The little mermaid sighed and looked sadly at her fish’s tail.

“Let’s be cheerful,” said the old lady. “We’ll jump and dance about for the three hundred years. After that we can sleep in peace”.

But the little mermaid began to think again about the world above her. She could not forget the handsome Prince. So she left her father’s palace, and sat sadly in her little garden. There she heard nice music. Sure, the Prince is sailing up there, she thought. I love him more than father or mother. I will risk everything to win him and an immortal soul. So I will go to the old Sea Witch. She can advise me and help me.

So the little mermaid went off out of her garden, towards the maelstrom behind which the witch lived. No flowers grew there, and no sea grass: only the gray sandy bottom round the maelstrom, where the water whirled round like a millwheel. Behind it lay the Witch’s house, in the middle of a hideous wood. All the trees and bushes of it were polypi, half animal and half plant, which looked like hundred-headed snakes. All their branches were long slimy arms with fingers like pliant worms. The little mermaid was in terrible fear as she stopped outside the wood. Her heart beat with terror, and she almost turned back. Then she thought of the Prince and of the human soul, and she took courage. She joined her two hands together on her breast, and darted along through the water.

Now she came to a great slimy clearing in the wood, where large fat water-snakes wallowed. In the centre of the clearing was a house built of the white bones of men. There the Sea Witch sat.

“I know well enough what you want,” said the Sea Witch, “and it’s a silly thing. But all the same, you will get what you want. It’ll bring you to a bad end, my pretty Princess. You want to be rid of[14] your fish tail and have two props to walk on instead, like humans. You think the young Prince may fall in love with you, and you may get him and an immortal soul. Ha!”

With that the Witch laughed loud and hideously.

“So”, said the Witch; “I shall make a drink for you, and with it you must swim to the land before the sun rises. Put yourself on the beach there, and drink it up. Then your tail will part and transform into what men call ‘pretty legs’. But it’ll hurt, it’ll be like a sharp sword. Everybody that sees you will say you are the prettiest human child they ever saw. You’ll keep your gait, and no dancer will be able to dance like you. But every your step will be as if you were treading on a sharp knife. If you can bear all that, I will do what you wish.”

“Yes,” said the little mermaid; and she thought of the Prince and an immortal soul.

“But remember,” said the Witch, “when you take a human shape, you can never become a mermaid again. You can never go down through the water to your sisters or to your father’s palace. And if you don’t win the love of the Prince, then you won’t get your immortal soul. On the first morning after he is married to anyone else, your heart will break and you will become foam on the water.”

“It is my wish,” said the little mermaid, pale as a corpse.

“But you must pay,” said the witch. “You have the loveliest voice of anyone down here at the bottom of the sea. With it no doubt you think you’ll be able to charm him. But you must give me that voice. I must have the best thing you possess as the price of my precious drink. I shall give you my own blood in it, and the drink will be as sharp as a sword.

“But if you take away my voice,” said the little mermaid, “what shall I have?”

“Your beautiful form,” said the witch, “and your gait, and your eyes. With them you can easily delude a human heart. Don’t be afraid. Just put out your little tongue, and I’ll cut it off. And you’ll have the potent drink.”

“So be it,” said the little mermaid, and the witch put her cauldron on the fire to boil the magic drink.

“Cleanliness is a good thing,” said she, and scoured out the cauldron with snakes which she tied in a knot. Then she scratched herself in the breast and dripped the black blood into the pot. The steam took the most dreadful shapes. When the drink was boiling, the sound was like that of a crocodile weeping. At last the drink was ready, and it looked like the clearest of water.

“There you are”, said the witch, and cut off the tongue of the little mermaid. Now she was dumb, she could neither sing nor speak.

“If the polypi want to catch you when you are going back through my wood,” said the Witch, “just throw one drop of that drink on them, and their arms and fingers will break into a thousand bits”.

But there was no need for the little mermaid to do that. The polypi shrank back in fear before her when they saw the drink which glittered in her hand. So she passed quickly through the wood, and the marsh, and the maelstrom.

She saw her father’s palace. No doubt everyone in there was asleep. But she was dumb and was going to leave them for ever. She went into the garden and took one flower from each of her sister’s flower-beds. Then rose up through the dark blue sea.

She saw the Prince’s palace, and clambered up the marble steps. The moon was shining bright. The little mermaid swallowed the drink. She felt like a sword was piercing her delicate body. She swooned with the pain and fell asleep. When the sun shone out over the sea, she awoke and felt a torturing pang. But right in front of her stood the beautiful young Prince. He looked at her. She saw that her fish’s tail was gone and that she now had the pretty small white legs.

But she was quite naked, so she wrapped herself in her long hair. The Prince asked who she was. She gazed at him sweetly and yet sadly with her dark blue eyes. She could not speak. Then he took her by the hand and led her into the palace. Her every step was as if she was treading on sharp swords and knives. But she walked freely, and the Prince and everyone else marvelled at her graceful gait.

They gave her robes of silk and muslin, and she was the fairest of all in the palace. But she was dumb and could neither speak nor sing. Beautiful slave girls came forward and sang to the Prince and his royal parents. One sang more sweetly than all the rest, and the Prince applauded her and smiled on her. Then the little mermaid was sad.

Then the slave girls danced graceful dances. Now the little mermaid raised her pretty white arms and rose on tiptoe and floated over the floor. Everyone was enraptured by it, and more than all, the Prince. She danced again and again, though every time her foot touched the ground it was as though she was treading on sharp knives.

<1 2 3 >

На страницу:

Перейти

2 из 3