The Swineherd.
There was once upon a time a needy prince. He owned a Kingdom—a very small one, but it was large enough to support a wife, and he made up his mind to marry. Now, it was really very bold on his part to say of the King's daughter: “Will you marry me?” But he dared to do so, for his name was known far and wide, and there were hundreds of princesses who would willingly have said: “Yes, with thanks.” But, whether she would say so, was another matter. We shall hear what happened.
On the grave of the Prince's father there grew a rose-tree—such a wonderful rose-tree! It only bloomed once in five years, and then it only bore one rose—but what a rose! Its perfume was so sweet that whoever smelt it forgot all his cares and sorrows. The Prince had also a Nightingale which could sing as if all the delicious melodies in the world were contained in its little throat. The rose and the Nightingale were both to be given to the Princess and were therefore placed in two silver cases and sent to her. The Emperor had them carried before him into the great hall where the Princess was playing at “visiting” with her ladies-in-waiting. This was their chief occupation; and when she saw the great cases with the presents in them, she clapped her hands with joy.
“If it were only a little pussy-cat,” she cried. But out came the beautiful rose.
“How elegantly it is made,” said all the ladies of the Court.
“It is more than elegant,” said the Emperor; “it is nice.”
“Fie, papa,” she said, “it is not made at all; it is a natural rose.”
“Fie,” said all the ladies of the court; “it is a natural rose.”
“Let us see what the other case contains before we lose our temper,” said the Emperor, and then out came the little Nightingale and sang so sweetly that nobody right off could think of any bad thing to say of it.
“Superbe, charmant,” cried the ladies of the Court, for they all chattered French, one worse than the other.
“How the bird reminds me of the late Empress' musical-box!” said an old Lord-in-Waiting. “Ah me! The same tone, the same execution——”
“The very same,” said the Emperor, and he cried like a little child.
“I hope it is not a real bird,” said the Princess.
“Oh yes; it is a real bird,” said those who had brought it.
“Then let the bird fly away,” she said, and she would on no account allow the Prince to come in.
But he was not to be discouraged. He smeared his face with black and brown, drew his cap over his forehead, and knocked at the Palace door. The Emperor opened it.
“Good day, Emperor,” he said. “Could I not get some work at the Palace?”
“There are so many who apply for positions here!” said the Emperor. “Now let me see: I am in want of a swineherd. I have a good many pigs to keep.”
So the Prince was appointed as Imperial Swineherd. He had a wretched little room near the pig-sty and here he was obliged to stay. But the whole day he sat and worked, and by the evening he had made a neat little pipkin, and round it was a set of bells, and as soon as the pot began to boil, the bells fell to jingling most sweetly and played the old melody:
“Ah, my dear Augustus,
All is lost, all is lost;”
but the most wonderful thing was that when you held your finger in the steam of the pipkin, you could immediately smell what dinner was cooking on every hearth in the town—that was something very different from a rose.
The Princess was walking out with her ladies-in-Waiting, and when she heard the melody, she stopped short, and looked much rejoiced, for she could play “Ah, my dear Augustus.” That was the only tune she knew, but she could play it with one finger. “Why, that is what I can play,” she said. “What a cultivated swineherd he must be. Go down and ask him how much his instrument costs.”
So one of the Ladies-in-Waiting was obliged to go down, but she put on pattens first.
“What do you charge for your instrument?” asked the Lady-in-Waiting.
“I will have ten kisses from the Princess,” said the Swineherd.
“Good gracious!” said the Lady-in-Waiting.
“I will not take less,” said the Swineherd.
“Well, what did he say?” asked the Princess.
“I really cannot tell you,” said the Lady-in-Waiting. “It is too dreadful.”
“Then you can whisper it,” said the Princess.
So she whispered it.
“He is very rude,” said the Princess, and she walked away. But when she had walked a few steps the bells sounded so sweetly:
“Ah, my dear Augustus,
All is lost, all is lost.”
“Listen,” said the Princess, “ask him whether he will have his kisses from my Ladies-in-Waiting.”
“No, thank you,” said the Swineherd. “I will have ten kisses from the Princess, or I will keep my pipkin.”
“How tiresome it is,” said the Princess; “but you must stand round me, so that nobody shall see.”
So the Ladies-in-Waiting stood round her, and they spread out their dresses. The Swineherd got the kisses, and she got the pipkin.
How delighted she was. All the evening, and the whole of the next day that pot was made to boil. And you might have known what everybody was cooking on every hearth in the town from the Chamberlain's to the shoemaker's. The court ladies danced and clapped their hands.
“We know who is to have fruit, soup and pancakes. We know who is going to have porridge, and cutlets. How very interesting it is!”
“Most, interesting, indeed,” said the first Lady-of-Honour.
“Yes, but hold your tongues, because I am the Emperor's daughter.”
“Of course we will,” they cried in one breath.
The Swineherd, or rather the Prince, though they did not know but that he was a real swineherd, did not let the day pass without doing something, and he made a rattle which could play all the waltzes and the polkas and the hop-dances which had been known since the creation of the world.
“But this is superb,” said the Princess, who was just passing: “I have never heard more beautiful composition. Go and ask him the cost of the instrument. But I will give no more kisses.”
“He insists on a hundred kisses from the Princess,” said the Ladies-in-Waiting who had been down to ask.
“I think he must be quite mad,” said the Princess, and she walked away. But when she had taken a few steps, she stopped short, and said: “One must encourage the fine arts, and I am the Emperor's daughter. Tell him he may have ten kisses, as before, and the rest he can take from my Ladies-in-Waiting.”
“Yes, but we object to that,” said the Ladies-in-Waiting.
“That is nonsense,” said the Princess. “If I can kiss him, surely you can do the same. Go down at once. Don't I pay you board and wages?”
So the Ladies-in-Waiting were obliged to go down to the Swineherd again.
“A hundred kisses from the Princess, or each keeps his own.”
“Stand round me,” she said. And all the Ladies-in-Waiting stood round her, and the Swineherd began to kiss her.
“What can all that crowd be down by the pigsty?” said the Emperor, stepping out on to the balcony. He rubbed his eyes and put on his spectacles. “It is the court-ladies up to some of their tricks. I must go down and look after them.” He pulled up his slippers (for they were shoes which he had trodden down at the heel).
Heavens! How he hurried! As soon as he came into the garden he walked very softly, and the Ladies-in-Waiting had so much to do counting the kisses, so that everything should be done fairly, and that the Swineherd should neither get too many nor too few, that they never noticed the Emperor at all. He stood on tiptoe.
“What is this all about?” he said, when he saw the kissing that was going on, and he hit them on the head with his slipper, just as the Swineherd was getting the eighty-sixth kiss. “Heraus,” said the Emperor, for he was angry, and both the Princess and the Swineherd were turned out of his Kingdom.
The Princess wept, the Swineherd scolded, and the rain streamed down.
“Ah! wretched creature that I am,” said the Princess. “If I had only taken the handsome Prince! Ah me, how unhappy I am!”
Then the Swineherd went behind a tree, washed the black and brown off his face, threw off his ragged clothes, and stood forth in his royal apparel, looking so handsome that she was obliged to curtsey.
“I have learned to despise you,” he said. “You would not have an honourable Prince. You could not appreciate a rose or a Nightingale, but to get a toy, you kissed the Swineherd. Now you have your reward.”
So he went into his Kingdom, shut the door and bolted it, and she had to stand outside singing:
“Ah, you dear Augustus,
All, all is lost.”
(From the Danish of Hans C. Andersen, translated by Marie L. Shedlock.)