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Many,
many years ago lived an emperor, who thought so much of new clothes that
he spent all his money in order to obtain them; his only ambition was to
be always well dressed. He did not care for his soldiers, and the theatre
did not amuse him; the only thing, in fact, he thought anything of was to
drive out and show a new suit of clothes. He had a coat for every hour of
the day; and as one would say of a king “He is in his cabinet,” so one
could say of him, “The emperor is in his dressing-room.”
The
great city where he resided was very gay; every day many strangers from
all parts of the globe arrived. One day two swindlers came to this city;
they made people believe that they were weavers, and declared they could
manufacture the finest cloth to be imagined. Their colours and patterns,
they said, were not only exceptionally beautiful, but the clothes made of
their material possessed the wonderful quality of being invisible to any
man who was unfit for his office or unpardonably stupid.
“That
must be wonderful cloth,” thought the emperor. “If I were to be dressed
in a suit made of this cloth I should be able to find out which men in my
empire were unfit for their places, and I could distinguish the clever
from the stupid. I must have this cloth woven for me without delay.” And
he gave a large sum of money to the swindlers, in advance, that they
should set to work without any loss of time. They set up two looms, and
pretended to be very hard at work, but they did nothing whatever on the
looms. They asked for the finest silk and the most precious gold-cloth;
all they got they did away with, and worked at the empty looms till late
at night.
“I
should very much like to know how they are getting on with the cloth,”
thought the emperor. But he felt rather uneasy when he remembered that he
who was not fit for his office could not see it. Personally, he was of
opinion that he had nothing to fear, yet he thought it advisable to send
somebody else first to see how matters stood. Everybody in the town knew
what a remarkable quality the stuff possessed, and all were anxious to
see how bad or stupid their neighbours were.
“I
shall send my honest old minister to the weavers,” thought the emperor.
“He can judge best how the stuff looks, for he is intelligent, and nobody
understands his office better than he.”
The
good old minister went into the room where the swindlers sat before the
empty looms. “Heaven preserve us!” he thought, and opened his eyes wide,
“I cannot see anything at all,” but he did not say so. Both swindlers
requested him to come near, and asked him if he did not admire the
exquisite pattern and the beautiful colours, pointing to the empty looms.
The poor old minister tried his very best, but he could see nothing, for
there was nothing to be seen. “Oh dear,” he thought, “can I be so stupid?
I should never have thought so, and nobody must know it! Is it possible
that I am not fit for my office? No, no, I cannot say that I was unable
to see the cloth.”
“Now,
have you got nothing to say?” said one of the swindlers, while he
pretended to be busily weaving.
“Oh,
it is very pretty, exceedingly beautiful,” replied the old minister
looking through his glasses. “What a beautiful pattern, what brilliant
colours! I shall tell the emperor that I like the cloth very much.”
“We
are pleased to hear that,” said the two weavers, and described to him the
colours and explained the curious pattern. The old minister listened
attentively, that he might relate to the emperor what they said; and so
he did.
Now
the swindlers asked for more money, silk and gold-cloth, which they
required for weaving. They kept everything for themselves, and not a
thread came near the loom, but they continued, as hitherto, to work at
the empty looms.
Soon
afterwards the emperor sent another honest courtier to the weavers to see
how they were getting on, and if the cloth was nearly finished. Like the
old minister, he looked and looked but could see nothing, as there was
nothing to be seen.
“Is
it not a beautiful piece of cloth?” asked the two swindlers, showing and
explaining the magnificent pattern, which, however, did not exist.
“I am not stupid,” said the man. “It is
therefore my good appointment for which I am not fit. It is very strange,
but I must not let any one know it;” and he praised the cloth, which he
did not see, and expressed his joy at the beautiful colours and the fine
pattern. “It is very excellent,” he said to the emperor.
Everybody in the whole town talked about the
precious cloth. At last the emperor wished to see it himself, while it
was still on the loom. With a number of courtiers, including the two who
had already been there, he went to the two clever swindlers, who now
worked as hard as they could, but without using any thread. “Is it not
magnificent?” said the two old statesmen who had been there before. “Your
Majesty must admire the colours and the pattern.” And then they pointed
to the empty looms, for they imagined the others could see the cloth.
“What is this?” thought the emperor, “I do not
see anything at all. That is terrible! Am I stupid? Am I unfit to be
emperor? That would indeed be the most dreadful thing that could happen
to me.”
“Really,” he said, turning to the weavers,
“your cloth has our most gracious approval;” and nodding contentedly he
looked at the empty loom, for he did not like to say that he saw nothing.
All his attendants, who were with him, looked and looked, and although
they could not see anything more than the others, they said, like the
emperor, “It is very beautiful.” And all advised him to wear the new
magnificent clothes at a great procession which was soon to take place.
“It is magnificent, beautiful, excellent,” one heard them say; everybody
seemed to be delighted, and the emperor appointed the two swindlers
“Imperial Court weavers.”
The whole night previous to the day on which
the procession was to take place, the swindlers pretended to work, and
burned more than sixteen candles. People should see that they were busy
to finish the emperor’s new suit. They pretended to take the cloth from
the loom, and worked about in the air with big scissors, and sewed with
needles without thread, and said at last: “The emperor’s new suit is
ready now.”
The emperor and all his barons then came to
the hall; the swindlers held their arms up as if they held something in
their hands and said: “These are the trousers!” “This is the coat!” and
“Here is the cloak!” and so on. “They are all as light as a cobweb, and
one must feel as if one had nothing at all upon the body; but that is
just the beauty of them.”
“Indeed!” said all the courtiers; but they
could not see anything, for there was nothing to be seen.
“Does it please your Majesty now to graciously
undress,” said the swindlers, “that we may assist your Majesty in putting
on the new suit before the large looking-glass?”
The emperor undressed, and the swindlers
pretended to put the new suit upon him, one piece after another; and the
emperor looked at himself in the glass from every side.
“How well they look! How well they fit!” said
all. “What a beautiful pattern! What fine colours! That is a magnificent
suit of clothes!”
The master of the ceremonies announced that
the bearers of the canopy, which was to be carried in the procession,
were ready.
“I am ready,” said the emperor. “Does not my
suit fit me marvellously?” Then he turned once more to the looking-glass,
that people should think he admired his garments.
The chamberlains, who were to carry the train,
stretched their hands to the ground as if they lifted up a train, and
pretended to hold something in their hands; they did not like people to
know that they could not see anything.
The emperor marched in the procession under
the beautiful canopy, and all who saw him in the street and out of the
windows exclaimed: “Indeed, the emperor’s new suit is incomparable! What
a long train he has! How well it fits him!” Nobody wished to let others
know he saw nothing, for then he would have been unfit for his office or
too stupid. Never emperor’s clothes were more admired.
“But he has nothing on at all,” said a little
child at last. “Good heavens! listen to the voice of an innocent child,”
said the father, and one whispered to the other what the child had said.
“But he has nothing on at all,” cried at last the whole people. That made
a deep impression upon the emperor, for it seemed to him that they were
right; but he thought to himself, “Now I must bear up to the end.” And
the chamberlains walked with still greater dignity, as if they carried
the train which did not exist.
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