(4) Andersen.
Many years ago there lived an Emperor who was so fond of new clothes
that he spent all his money on them in order to be beautifully dressed.
He did not care about his soldiers, he did not care about the theatre;
he only liked to go out walking to show off his new clothes. He had a
coat for every hour of the day; and just as they say of a king, ‘He is
in the council-chamber,’ they always said here, ‘The Emperor is in the
wardrobe.’
In the great city in which he lived there was always something going on;
every day many strangers came there. One day two impostors arrived
who gave themselves out as weavers, and said that they knew how to
manufacture the most beautiful cloth imaginable. Not only were the
texture and pattern uncommonly beautiful, but the clothes which were
made of the stuff possessed this wonderful property that they were
invisible to anyone who was not fit for his office, or who was
unpardonably stupid.
‘Those must indeed be splendid clothes,’ thought the Emperor. ‘If I
had them on I could find out which men in my kingdom are unfit for the
offices they hold; I could distinguish the wise from the stupid! Yes,
this cloth must be woven for me at once.’ And he gave both the impostors
much money, so that they might begin their work.
They placed two weaving-looms, and began to do as if they were working,
but they had not the least thing on the looms. They also demanded the
finest silk and the best gold, which they put in their pockets, and
worked at the empty looms till late into the night.
‘I should like very much to know how far they have got on with the
cloth,’ thought the Emperor. But he remembered when he thought about it
that whoever was stupid or not fit for his office would not be able
to see it. Now he certainly believed that he had nothing to fear for
himself, but he wanted first to send somebody else in order to see how
he stood with regard to his office. Everybody in the whole town knew
what a wonderful power the cloth had, and they were all curious to see
how bad or how stupid their neighbour was.
‘I will send my old and honoured minister to the weavers,’ thought
the Emperor. ‘He can judge best what the cloth is like, for he has
intellect, and no one understands his office better than he.’
Now the good old minister went into the hall where the two impostors sat
working at the empty weaving-looms. ‘Dear me!’ thought the old minister,
opening his eyes wide, ‘I can see nothing!’ But he did not say so.
Both the impostors begged him to be so kind as to step closer, and asked
him if it were not a beautiful texture and lovely colours. They pointed
to the empty loom, and the poor old minister went forward rubbing his
eyes; but he could see nothing, for there was nothing there.
‘Dear, dear!’ thought he, ‘can I be stupid? I have never thought that,
and nobody must know it! Can I be not fit for my office? No, I must
certainly not say that I cannot see the cloth!’
‘Have you nothing to say about it?’ asked one of the men who was
weaving.
‘Oh, it is lovely, most lovely!’ answered the old minister, looking
through his spectacles. ‘What a texture! What colours! Yes, I will tell
the Emperor that it pleases me very much.’
‘Now we are delighted at that,’ said both the weavers, and thereupon
they named the colours and explained the make of the texture.
The old minister paid great attention, so that he could tell the same to
the Emperor when he came back to him, which he did.
The impostors now wanted more money, more silk, and more gold to use in
their weaving. They put it all in their own pockets, and there came no
threads on the loom, but they went on as they had done before, working
at the empty loom. The Emperor soon sent another worthy statesman to
see how the weaving was getting on, and whether the cloth would soon
be finished. It was the same with him as the first one; he looked and
looked, but because there was nothing on the empty loom he could see
nothing.
‘Is it not a beautiful piece of cloth?’ asked the two impostors, and
they pointed to and described the splendid material which was not there.
‘Stupid I am not!’ thought the man, ‘so it must be my good office for
which I am not fitted. It is strange, certainly, but no one must be
allowed to notice it.’ And so he praised the cloth which he did not
see, and expressed to them his delight at the beautiful colours and the
splendid texture. ‘Yes, it is quite beautiful,’ he said to the Emperor.
Everybody in the town was talking of the magnificent cloth.
Now the Emperor wanted to see it himself while it was still on the
loom. With a great crowd of select followers, amongst whom were both
the worthy statesmen who had already been there before, he went to
the cunning impostors, who were now weaving with all their might, but
without fibre or thread.
‘Is it not splendid!’ said both the old statesmen who had already been
there. ‘See, your Majesty, what a texture! What colours!’ And then they
pointed to the empty loom, for they believed that the others could see
the cloth quite well.
‘What!’ thought the Emperor, ‘I can see nothing! This is indeed
horrible! Am I stupid? Am I not fit to be Emperor? That were the most
dreadful thing that could happen to me. Oh, it is very beautiful,’ he
said. ‘It has my gracious approval.’ And then he nodded pleasantly, and
examined the empty loom, for he would not say that he could see nothing.
His whole Court round him looked and looked, and saw no more than the
others; but they said like the Emperor, ‘Oh! it is beautiful!’ And they
advised him to wear these new and magnificent clothes for the first time
at the great procession which was soon to take place. ‘Splendid! Lovely!
Most beautiful!’ went from mouth to mouth; everyone seemed delighted
over them, and the Emperor gave to the impostors the title of Court
weavers to the Emperor.
Throughout the whole of the night before the morning on which the
procession was to take place, the impostors were up and were working by
the light of over sixteen candles. The people could see that they were
very busy making the Emperor’s new clothes ready. They pretended they
were taking the cloth from the loom, cut with huge scissors in the
air, sewed with needles without thread, and then said at last, ‘Now the
clothes are finished!’
The Emperor came himself with his most distinguished knights, and each
impostor held up his arm just as if he were holding something, and said,
‘See! here are the breeches! Here is the coat! Here the cloak!’ and so
on.
‘Spun clothes are so comfortable that one would imagine one had nothing
on at all; but that is the beauty of it!’
‘Yes,’ said all the knights, but they could see nothing, for there was
nothing there.
‘Will it please your Majesty graciously to take off your clothes,’ said
the impostors, ‘then we will put on the new clothes, here before the
mirror.’
The Emperor took off all his clothes, and the impostors placed
themselves before him as if they were putting on each part of his new
clothes which was ready, and the Emperor turned and bent himself in
front of the mirror.
‘How beautifully they fit! How well they sit!’ said everybody. ‘What
material! What colours! It is a gorgeous suit!’
‘They are waiting outside with the canopy which your Majesty is wont
to have borne over you in the procession,’ announced the Master of the
Ceremonies.
‘Look, I am ready,’ said the Emperor. ‘Doesn’t it sit well!’ And he
turned himself again to the mirror to see if his finery was on all
right.
The chamberlains who were used to carry the train put their hands near
the floor as if they were lifting up the train; then they did as if they
were holding something in the air. They would not have it noticed that
they could see nothing.
So the Emperor went along in the procession under the splendid canopy,
and all the people in the streets and at the windows said, ‘How
matchless are the Emperor’s new clothes! That train fastened to his
dress, how beautifully it hangs!’
No one wished it to be noticed that he could see nothing, for then he
would have been unfit for his office, or else very stupid. None of the
Emperor’s clothes had met with such approval as these had.
‘But he has nothing on!’ said a little child at last.
‘Just listen to the innocent child!’ said the father, and each one
whispered to his neighbour what the child had said.
‘But he has nothing on!’ the whole of the people called out at last.
This struck the Emperor, for it seemed to him as if they were right; but
he thought to himself, ‘I must go on with the procession now. And the
chamberlains walked along still more uprightly, holding up the train
which was not there at all.