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 theater 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."
[Footnote 49: Andersen's "Tales" have attracted many translators,
among them Caroline Peachey, whose version is printed in the Bohn
Library. Another version is by Mrs. H. B. Paull.]
Time passed away 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 every one 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 realm 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, tho 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 he is."
So the honest 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
can not 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 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, at any
rate, if I am so, no one must know it. 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 admirable!" 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 patterns 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 on 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; altho 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 every
one but themselves 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 entire 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 every one was uncommonly gay. The Emperor shared in the
general satisfaction, and presented the impostors with the ribbon of
an order of knighthood to be worn in their buttonholes, 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
every one 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 drest in it; that,
however, is the great virtue of this delicate cloth."
"Yes, indeed!" said all the courtiers, altho 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 undrest, 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!" every one 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 bed-chamber 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 excited so much admiration as this.
"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
bed-chamber took greater pains than ever to appear holding up a train,
altho, in reality, there was no train to hold.