Two Hans Christian Andersen Tales
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The Dead Child
There was sorrow in the house, for a four-year-old boy was dead. The parents had two older daughters, sweet, good girls, but the only son was dead. Most of all the mother suffered. Night and day she had cared for the sick child. She cried aloud in her agony and in her grief she turned from God with a heart black with despair. Her thoughts were all with her dead child and his innocent, childish prattle.The day of the funeral came. Then she demanded to see her child, but her husband replied, "We have closed the coffin; it had to be done."
She was overcome with bitter tears at that.
The coffin was carried to the grave. The mother resigned herself to sorrow. Her family watched her with moist eyes . They themselves were grieving.
They persuaded her to lie down in her bed as quietly as though she were actually sleeping.
One night her husband listened to her steady breathing and really thought that at last she had found repose. With folded hands he thanked God, and soon fell into a sound, deep sleep. So he was not aware that his wife rose, dressed herself, and went quietly out of the house, to seek the grave of the child. She walked through the garden and into the field beyond, where a footpath led to the churchyard. Nobody saw her, and she saw no one.
It was a beautiful, starry night in September, and the air was mild. When she reached the little grave it was like one huge bouquet of fragrant flowers. And as she sat beside his bed her tears flowed freely and fell on the grave.
"You wish to go down to your child!" said someone shrouded in a heavy black mourning cloak. His stern face inspired trust, and his grave eyes sparkled with the light of youth. "Do you dare to follow me?" he asked further. "I am Death!"
When she bowed her head, he took that for a yes. Suddenly she sank with the black mantle of Death spread over her until the churchyard lay like a roof above her head. The black folds of the mantle fell aside. There was a twilight all around. Before her appeared her child. He smiled at her. She uttered a cry.
"My sweet mother! My own mother!" she heard her child say. "Look, Mother! There is nothing as beautiful as this on earth!"
The mother could not see it. She could hear the music and tones he heard there either.
"I can fly now, Mother!" said the child. "Fly, but when you cry it calls me back, I can no longer fly. Will you not let me?"
She kissed him, holding him tightly. Then she slowly remembered the beloved ones she had left in her home, she had nearly forgotten them for the dead.
"Mother," said the child, "The sun is rising!"
Then an overpowering light streamed out and she herself was carried upward, and when she lifted her head she saw she was lying on her child's grave in the churchyard. But in her dream there her understanding had been lighted and her torn heart had found relief at last.
The sun came out. Light was all about her; light was once more in her heart; she felt the goodness of God and hurried home. There she bent over her husband and woke him up with a warm, tender kiss. Now they could speak together of their loss.
Then she kissed her daughters.
[Retold]
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The Emperor's New Clothes
Many years ago there was an emperor who was so excessively fond of new clothes that he
spent all his money in dress. He did not trouble himself in the least about his soldiers; nor did he care to
go either to the theatre or the chase except for the opportunities then afforded him for displaying his
new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of the day; and as of any other king or emperor, one
is accustomed to say, "he is sitting in council," it was always said of him, "The emperor is sitting in his
wardrobe."
Time passed merrily in the large town which was his capital; strangers arrived every day at
the court. One day, two rogues, calling themselves weavers, made their appearance. They gave out
that they knew how to weave stuffs of the most beautiful colors and elaborate patterns, the clothes
manufactured from which should have the wonderful property of remaining invisible to everyone who
was unfit for the office he held, or who was extraordinarily simple in character.
"These must, indeed, be splendid clothes!" thought the emperor. "Had I such a suit, I might
at once find out what men in my realms are unfit for their office, and also be able to distinguish the
wise from the foolish! This stuff must be woven for me immediately." And he caused large sums of
money to be given to both the weavers in order that they might begin their work directly.
So the two pretended weavers set up two looms, and affected to work very busily, though in
reality they did nothing at all. They asked for the most delicate silk and the purest gold thread; put both
into their own knapsacks; and then continued their pretended work at the empty looms until late at
night.
"I should like to know how the weavers are getting on with my cloth," said the emperor to
himself, after some little time had elapsed; he was, however, rather embarrassed, when he
remembered that a simpleton, or one unfit for his office, would be unable to see the manufacture. To be
sure, he thought he had nothing to risk in his own person; but yet, he would prefer sending somebody
else, to bring him intelligence about the weavers, and their work, before he troubled himself in the
affair. All the people throughout the city had heard of the wonderful property the cloth was to possess;
and all were anxious to learn how wise, or how ignorant, their neighbors might prove to be.
"I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers," said the emperor at last, after some
deliberation, "he will be best able to see how the cloth looks; for he is a man of sense, and no one can
be more suitable for his office than he is."
So the faithful old minister went into the hall, where the knaves were working with all their
might, at their empty looms. "What can be the meaning of this?" thought the old man, opening his eyes
very wide. "I cannot discover the least bit of thread on the looms." However, he did not express his
thoughts aloud.
The impostors requested him very courteously to be so good as to come nearer their looms;
and then asked him whether the design pleased him, and whether the colors were not very beautiful; at
the same time pointing to the empty frames. The poor old minister looked and looked, he could not
discover anything on the looms, for a very good reason, viz: there was nothing there. "What!" thought
he again. "Is it possible that I am a simpleton? I have never thought so myself; and no one must know
it now if I am so. Can it be, that I am unfit for my office? No, that must not be said either. I will never
confess that I could not see the stuff."
"Well, Sir Minister!" said one of the knaves, still pretending to work. "You do not say whether
the stuff pleases you."
"Oh, it is excellent!" replied the old minister, looking at the loom through his spectacles. "This
pattern, and the colors, yes, I will tell the emperor without delay, how very beautiful I think
them."
"We shall be much obliged to you," said the impostors, and then they named the different
colors and described the pattern of the pretended stuff. The old minister listened attentively to their
words, in order that he might repeat them to the emperor; and then the knaves asked for more silk and
gold, saying that it was necessary to complete what they had begun. However, they put all that was
given them into their knapsacks; and continued to work with as much apparent diligence as before at
their empty looms.
The emperor now sent another officer of his court to see how the men were getting on, and
to ascertain whether the cloth would soon be ready. It was just the same with this gentleman as with
the minister; he surveyed the looms on all sides, but could see nothing at all but the empty
frames.
"Does not the stuff appear as beautiful to you, as it did to my lord the minister?" asked the
impostors of the emperor's second ambassador; at the same time making the same gestures as before,
and talking of the design and colors which were not there.
"I certainly am not stupid!" thought the messenger. "It must be, that I am not fit for my good,
profitable office! That is very odd; however, no one shall know anything about it." And accordingly he
praised the stuff he could not see, and declared that he was delighted with both colors and patterns.
"Indeed, please your Imperial Majesty," said he to his sovereign when he returned, "the cloth which the
weavers are preparing is extraordinarily magnificent."
The whole city was talking of the splendid cloth which the emperor had ordered to be woven
at his own expense.
And now the emperor himself wished to see the costly manufacture, while it was still in the
loom. Accompanied by a select number of officers of the court, among whom were the two honest men
who had already admired the cloth, he went to the crafty impostors, who, as soon as they were aware
of the emperor's approach, went on working more diligently than ever; although they still did not pass a
single thread through the looms.
"Is not the work absolutely magnificent?" said the two officers of the crown, already
mentioned. "If your Majesty will only be pleased to look at it! What a splendid design! What glorious
colors!" and at the same time they pointed to the empty frames; for they imagined that everyone else
could see this exquisite piece of workmanship.
"How is this?" said the emperor to himself. "I can see nothing! This is indeed a terrible affair!
Am I a simpleton, or am I unfit to be an Emperor? That would be the worst thing that could
happen—Oh! the cloth is charming," said he, aloud. "It has my complete approbation." And he
smiled most graciously, and looked closely at the empty looms; for on no account would he say that he
could not see what two of the officers of his court had praised so much. All his retinue now strained
their eyes, hoping to discover something on the looms, but they could see no more than the others;
nevertheless, they all exclaimed, "Oh, how beautiful!" and advised his majesty to have some new
clothes made from this splendid material, for the approaching procession. "Magnificent! Charming!
Excellent!" resounded on all sides; and everyone was uncommonly gay. The emperor shared in the
general satisfaction; and presented the impostors with the riband of an order of knighthood, to be worn
in their button-holes, 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.
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