THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES

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

be 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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