The Swineherd

by
Hans Christian Andersen
(1842)
NCE upon a time lived a poor prince; his kingdom was very small, but it was large enough
to enable him to marry, and marry he would. It was rather bold of him that he went and
asked the emperor’s daughter: “Will you marry me?” but he ventured to do so, for his
name was known far and wide, and
there were hundreds of princesses
who would have gladly accepted
him, but would she do so? Now we
shall see.
On the grave of the prince’s
father grew a rose-tree, the most
beautiful of its kind. It bloomed
only once in five years, and then it
had only one single rose upon it, but
what a rose! It had such a sweet
scent that one instantly forgot all
sorrow and grief when one smelt it.
He had also a nightingale, which
could sing as if every sweet melody
was in its throat. This rose and the
nightingale he wished to give to the
princess; and therefore both were
put into big silver cases and sent to her.
The emperor ordered them to be carried into the great hall where the princess was just
playing “Visitors are coming” with her ladies-in-waiting; when she saw the large cases with the
presents therein, she clapped her hands for joy.
“I wish it were a little pussy cat,” she said. But then the rose-tree with the beautiful rose was
unpacked.
“Oh, how nicely it is made,” exclaimed the ladies.
“It is more than nice,” said the emperor, “it is charming.”
The princess touched it and nearly began to cry.
“For shame, pa,” she said, “it is not artificial, it is natural!”
“For shame, it is natural” repeated all her ladies.
“Let us first see what the other case contains before we are angry,” said the emperor; then
the nightingale was taken out, and it sang so beautifully that no one could possibly say anything
unkind about it.
“Superbe, charmant,” said the ladies of the court, for they all prattled French, one worse
than the other.
 “How much the bird reminds me of the musical box of the late lamented empress,” said an
old courtier, “it has exactly the same tone, the same execution.”
“You are right,” said the emperor, and began to cry like a little child.
“I hope it is not natural,” said the princess.
“Yes, certainly it is natural,” replied those who had brought the presents.
“Then let it fly,” said the princess, and refused to see the prince.
But the prince was not discouraged. He painted his face, put on common clothes, pulled his
cap over his forehead, and came back.
“Good day, emperor,” he said, “could you not give me some employment at the court?”
“There are so many,” replied the emperor, “who apply for places, that for the present I have
no vacancy, but I will remember you. But wait a moment; it just comes into my mind, I require
somebody to look after my pigs, for I have a great many.”
Thus the prince was appointed imperial swineherd, and as such he lived in a wretchedly
small room near the pigsty; there he worked all day long, and when it was night he had made a
pretty little pot. There were little bells round the rim, and when the water began to boil in it, the
bells began to play the old tune:
“A jolly old sow once lived in a sty,
Three little piggies had she,” &c.
But what was more wonderful was that, when one put a finger into the steam rising from the
pot, one could at once smell what meals they were preparing on every fire in the whole town.
That was indeed much more remarkable than the rose. When the princess with her ladies passed
by and heard the tune, she stopped and looked quite pleased, for she also could play it—in fact, it
was the only tune she could play, and she played it with one finger.
“That is the tune I know,” she exclaimed. “He must be a well-educated swineherd. Go and
ask him how much the instrument is.”
One of the ladies had to go and ask; but she put on pattens.
“What will you take for your pot?” asked the lady.
“I will have ten kisses from the princess,” said the swineherd.
“God forbid,” said the lady.
“Well, I cannot sell it for less,” replied the swineherd.
“What did he say?” said the princess.
“I really cannot tell you,” replied the lady.
“You can whisper it into my ear.”
“It is very naughty,” said the princess, and walked off.
But when she had gone a little distance, the bells rang again so sweetly:
“A jolly old sow once lived in a sty,
Three little piggies had she,” &c.
“Ask him,” said the princess, “if he will be satisfied with ten kisses from one of my ladies.”
“No, thank you,” said the swineherd: “ten kisses from the princess, or I keep my pot.”
 “That is tiresome,” said the
princess. “But you must stand before
me, so that nobody can see it.”
The ladies placed themselves in
front of her and spread out their
dresses, and she gave the swineherd
ten kisses and received the pot.
That was a pleasure! Day and
night the water in the pot was boiling;
there was not a single fire in the whole
town of which they did not know what
was preparing on it, the chamberlain’s
as well as the shoemaker’s. The ladies
danced and clapped their hands for joy.
“We know who will eat soup and
pancakes; we know who will eat
porridge and cutlets; oh, how
interesting!”
“Very interesting, indeed,” said
the mistress of the household. “But
you must not betray me, for I am the
emperor’s daughter.”
“Of course not,” they all said.
The swineherd—that is to say, the
prince—but they did not know
otherwise than that he was a real swineherd—did not waste a single day without doing
something; he made a rattle, which, when turned quickly round, played all the waltzes, galops,
and polkas known since the creation of the world.
“But that is superbe,” said the princess passing by. “I have never heard a more beautiful
composition. Go down and ask him what the instrument costs; but I shall not kiss him again.”
“He will have a hundred kisses from the princess,” said the lady, who had gone down to ask
him.
“I believe he is mad,” said the princess, and walked off, but soon she stopped. “One must
encourage art,” she said. “I am the emperor’s daughter! Tell him I will give him ten kisses, as I
did the other day; the remainder one of my ladies can give him.”
“But we do not like to kiss him” said the ladies.
“That is nonsense,” said the princess; “if I can kiss him, you can also do it. Remember that I
give you food and employment.” And the lady had to go down once more.
“A hundred kisses from the princess,” said the swineherd, “or everybody keeps his own.”
“Place yourselves before me,” said the princess then. They did as they were bidden, and the
princess kissed him.
“I wonder what that crowd near the pigsty means!” said the emperor, who had just come out
on his balcony. He rubbed his eyes and put his spectacles on.
 “The ladies of the court are up to some mischief, I think. I shall have to go down and see.”
He pulled up his shoes, for they were down at the heels, and he was very quick about it. When he
had come down into the courtyard he walked quite softly, and the ladies were so busily engaged
in counting the kisses, that all should be
fair, that they did not notice the emperor.
He raised himself on tiptoe.
“What does this mean?” he said,
when he saw that his daughter was
kissing the swineherd, and then hit their
heads with his shoe just as the swineherd
received the sixty-eighth kiss.
“Go out of my sight,” said the
emperor, for he was very angry; and both
the princess and the swineherd were
banished from the empire. There she
stood and cried, the swineherd scolded
her, and the rain came down in torrents.
“Alas, unfortunate creature that I
am!” said the princess, “I wish I had
accepted the prince. Oh, how wretched I
am!”
The swineherd went behind a tree,
wiped his face, threw off his poor attire and stepped forth in his princely garments; he looked so
beautiful that the princess could not help bowing to him.
“I have now learnt to despise you,” he said. “You refused an honest prince; you did not
appreciate the rose and the nightingale; but you did not mind kissing a swineherd for his toys;
you have no one but yourself to blame!”
And then he returned into his kingdom and left her behind. She could now sing at her
leisure:
“A jolly old sow once lived in a sty,
Three little piggies has she,” &c.

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$Date: 2007/06/20 11:59:31 $