Hans Christian Andersen once wrote a story about the tailors who made a
suit for a King out of a magic cloth. The quality of the cloth was such,
so the tailors said, that it could be seen by nobody who was not worthy
of the position he held. And so all the people at court declared that
they could see the cloth and admired it greatly, but when the King went
out to walk a little boy cried: "Why, he hasn't got anything on." Then
everybody took up the cry, and the King rushed back to his palace, and
the two tailors were banished in disgrace. Information has recently been
discovered which casts new light on the story. According to this
information there was only one tailor, and his adventure with the King
was about as follows:
AN IMPERIAL FOOTMAN--There's a man at the gate who says he's a tailor
and that he wants to see your majesty.
THE KING--Explain our constitution to him. Tell him that all bills for
revenue originate in the lower House, and point out that on account of a
vicious bipartisan alliance of all the traitors in the kingdom I'm kept
so short of money that I can't possibly afford any new clothes.
THE IMPERIAL FOOTMAN--He didn't say anything about money, your majesty.
THE KING--Well, I won't give him a bealo down and a bealo a week either.
Tell him to wait until I've got a clear title to the pianola.
THE IMPERIAL FOOTMAN--What he said was that he had a valuable gift for
the most enlightened ruler in the world.
THE KING--Well, why didn't you say so in the first place? What was the
use of keeping me waiting? Send him up right away. (_Exit the Footman._)
THE KING (_speaking in the general direction of the Leading
Republican_)--Fortunately, my fame rises above petty slanders. The
common people, they know me and they love me.
THE LEADING REPUBLICAN--They love your simplicity, your majesty, your
lack of ostentation, your tractability. (_Enter the Tailor._)
THE TAILOR--I have come a far journey to see your majesty.
THE KING--I am honored.
THE TAILOR--For a long time I have been journeying to find an
enlightened sovereign, a sovereign who was fitted in all respects for
his high office. I stopped in Ruritania; he was not there. He was not in
Pannonia or in Gamar. You are my hope, majesty.
THE KING--I trust this may indeed be the end of your journey. I think I
may say that Marma is a model kingdom. As you doubtless know, the
capital city is Grenoble, with a population of 145,000, according to the
last census. We have modern waterworks, a library with more than 10,000
volumes, an art museum, a tannery, three cathedrals, two opera houses
and numerous moving picture theaters. The principal industries, as you
may recall, are salt fish, woolen blankets, pottery, dried raisins and
shrapnel.
THE TAILOR--Your majesty will pardon me if I say that I don't give a fig
for your raisins or your dried fish or the cathedrals, or even the
library with the 10,000 volumes. What I am seeking is a man with eyes to
see.
THE KING--No one has better eyes than myself, I'm sure. I have shot as
many as a hundred pheasants in an afternoon, and, if you will pardon the
allegorical allusion, I can see loyalty and virtue though they reside in
the breast of the most distant and humble subject in my kingdom.
THE TAILOR--Perhaps, then, you can see my cloth. It is a marvelous
cloth. It was one of the gifts the wise men brought to the Child. It lay
across his feet in the manger. But in order that its richness should not
attract the attention of Herod, the wise men decreed that the cloth
should be invisible to every one who was not worthy of his station in
the world. See, your majesty, and judge for yourself. (_He puts his hand
into the bag and brings it forth, apparently empty, although he seems
to be holding up something for the King and the courtiers to admire._)
Is it not a brave and gallant robe, gentlemen?
(_All look intently at the hand of the tailor. There is a long silence,
in which many sly glances are cast from one to another to ascertain if
it is possible that somebody else sees this thing which is invisible to
him. The King looks slowly to the right and slowly to the left to scan
the faces of his subjects, and then he gazes straight at the Tailor in
high perplexity. Of a sudden the Leading Republican pulls himself
together and speaks in an assured and certain tone._)
THE LEADING REPUBLICAN--It is a magnificent robe. It is a robe for a
King. It is so fine a robe that no king should wear it but our beloved
monarch, Timothy the Third.
THE LEADING DEMOCRAT (_very hastily_)--Oh, I say, that is nice. So shiny
and bright, and good serviceable stuff, too. That would make a mighty
good raincoat. (_Briskly_) Say, now, Mr. Tailor, how would you like to
form the Wonder Cloth Limited Company? You'd be president, of course,
and hold thirty-three and one-third per cent of the stock, the same
amount for the King, and the rest to be divided equally among my friends
of the opposition here and myself.
THE TAILOR--There will never be any more of the cloth. Only a little is
left. Much has been lost. It lies in lonely places, in forests, at the
bottom of the sea, in city streets. I have searched the world for this
cloth, and I have found no more than I could carry in this bag, a robe
for the King (_he holds his hand up_), this square piece you see, and
this long twisted piece that might be a rope. Yes, it might be a rope,
for it is stronger than hemp.
THE LEADING DEMOCRAT--That robe there, as near as I can judge, should be
pretty much of a fit for his majesty. He might wear it for his regular
afternoon walk through the city to-day.
THE KING--Oh, I don't think I'll take my exercise to-day. There's rather
a nasty bite to the air.
THE LEADING DEMOCRAT--Don't forget, you're a constitutional monarch.
THE TAILOR--If the King will wear my robe to-day I can go on with my
journey to find the cloth the world has lost. Already I have found a
King who can see, and it only remains to discover whether there is
vision in his people, too.
THE KING (_musing_)--Hum! If the people can see it, hey? That's a bit of
a risk now, isn't it? When I wear that robe of your magic cloth it might
be a good idea to have something warm and substantial underneath. It
wouldn't do to have any mistakes, you know. After all, I don't want a
lot of stupid louts thinking I'm parading around in my B. V. D.'s.
THE LEADING DEMOCRAT--Does your majesty mean to suggest that the common
people of Marma, from whom he derives all his just powers, are not to
be trusted?
THE KING--You know I didn't mean that. Of course I trust the people. I
realize perfectly well that they'd die for me and all that, but, after
all, you can't be sure of everybody in a big crowd. There'll be
fishwives, you know, and Socialists and highwaymen and plumbers and
reporters and everything.
THE LEADING DEMOCRAT--It all gets down to this, your majesty: do you
trust the people, or don't you?
THE KING--I trust them as much as you do, but I don't go to excess. I
don't see any good reason why I shouldn't wear an ordinary business suit
under this magic royal robe. A King can't take chances, you know. He
must play it safe.
THE TAILOR--Don't say that, your majesty. You're a King, your majesty.
Think of that. You mustn't tap in front of you, like a blind man with a
stick. You mustn't fear to bump your head. If you hold it high, you
know, there'd be nothing to fear but the stars.
THE KING--You are eloquent, O stranger from a far country, and what do
you mean?
THE TAILOR--Only this: if you wear my robe you must cast off compromise
and expediency.
THE KING--Oh, that's all right. I was only thinking about trousers.
THE TAILOR--They were a compromise of Adam's, your majesty.
THE KING--Quite true, but I hope you wouldn't go so far as to object to
essentials. It's mesh stuff, you know, and very thin. Practically
nothing at all. Just one piece. Somehow or other I don't believe I'd
feel easy without it. Sort of a habit with me.
THE TAILOR--If you wear my robe you must put aside every other garment.
THE KING--But this is December.
THE TAILOR--Your majesty, the man who wears this cloth will never fear
cold.
THE LEADING DEMOCRAT--It seems to me that the only question is, Does his
majesty trust the people fully and completely?
THE KING--Of course I trust the people.
THE LEADING DEMOCRAT--Then why are you afraid to show yourself before
them in this magnificent new robe? Is there any reason to believe that
they who are the real rulers of Marma cannot see this cloth which the
Tailor sees, which I see and admire so much and (_pointedly_) which your
majesty, Timothy the Third, cannot conceivably fail to see? It would be
unfortunate if it became a matter of news that your majesty did not
believe in the capabilities and worthiness of the people.
THE KING--- Oh, I believe all right.
THE LEADING DEMOCRAT--Then why are you afraid?
THE KING--Give me the robe. I am not afraid. (_The Tailor stoops and
seems to take something out of a bag. He extends the invisible object to
the King, who clumsily pretends to hang it over his arm._)
THE TAILOR--Oh, not that way, your majesty. It will wrinkle.
(_Painstakingly he smooths out a little air and returns it to the
astonished monarch._)
THE KING (_to the Leading Republican, the Leading Democrat and the two
Courtiers_)--You will meet me at the great gate of the palace in three
minutes and accompany me on my promenade through the city. (_Exit the
King. The Leading Republican draws close to the first Courtier._)
LEADING REPUBLICAN--Wonderful fabric that, was it not?
FIRST COURTIER--Much the finest I have ever seen.
LEADING REPUBLICAN--Now, what shade should you say it was? It's hard to
tell shades in this light, isn't it?
FIRST COURTIER--I had no trouble, sir. The robe is a bright scarlet.
LEADING REPUBLICAN--Scarlet, eh? (_He moves over close to the second
Courtier._)
LEADING REPUBLICAN--Wonderful fabric that we saw just now, wasn't it?
SECOND COURTIER--It was like a lake under the moonlight.
LEADING REPUBLICAN--Moonlight?
SECOND COURTIER--Yes, it was easy to see that it was a miraculous
fabric. Man could never have achieved that silver green.
LEADING REPUBLICAN--Yes, it was a mighty fine color. (_Raising his
voice._) I think we had better join his majesty now, gentlemen, and I
believe we shall have an interesting promenade. Good-by until later, Mr.
Tailor.
ALL--Good-by, Mr. Tailor!
(_The Tailor moves to a great window at the back of the stage and opens
it. He leans out. He bows low to some one who is passing by underneath.
The rattle of wagons may be heard distinctly, and the rumble of cars,
with occasionally the honk of an automobile horn. Suddenly there is a
noise much louder and shriller than any of these. It is the voice of a
child, and it cries: "He hasn't got anything on!" Voice after voice
takes up the shout. Seemingly thousands of people are shouting, "He
hasn't got anything on!" Finally the shouting loses all coherence; it is
just a great, ugly, angry noise. A shot breaks the glass of the window
just above the Tailor's head. Quickly he protects himself from further
attack in that direction by swinging two iron shutters together and
fastening them. Then he locks the great door through which the King and
the Courtiers have just passed._)
THE TAILOR (_in sorrow and anger_)--More blind men. (_He moves to his
bag and, dipping his hands in, raises them again to fondle an invisible
something. As he is so engaged a little door at the right opens and a
meanly dressed girl of about eighteen enters._)
THE TAILOR--Keep your distance. I won't be taken alive. Not until I can
find some one to care for my cloth.
THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--Oh, please, don't hurt me, mister. I just ran
up here because there were soldiers down in the garden, and shooting and
things.
THE TAILOR--Who are you?
THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--I'm the sixth assistant helper of the cook.
THE TAILOR--The sixth?
THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--Yes, I clean the butter plates.
THE TAILOR--And that's all you do? Just clean butter plates? How
terrible!
THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--But it isn't. The cook says I'm the best
butter dish cleaner in the world. I like butter. I like to touch it.
There's no color in the world so beautiful. It's like that bit of cloth
you have in your hands.
THE TAILOR--You see the cloth?
THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--Of course I see it. Why, it's right there in
your hands. And it's yellow like the butter.
THE TAILOR--Or gold. (_He reaches into the bag again._) And what's this?
(_He holds his right hand high above his head._)
THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--Why, it's a yellow rope.
THE TAILOR--Yes, that's it, a rope. I'm going to give you the other
piece of cloth now, and later the rope, too. You must guard it as
carefully, as carefully as you would watch one of your butter dishes. Do
you understand?
THE GIRL--I wouldn't lose it. It's pretty.
THE TAILOR--Yes, it's pretty and the world mustn't lose it. You will
find that most people can't see. I know only two, you and I, but there
must be others. That's your task now, finding people who can see the
cloth and cleaning butter plates, of course. (_There is a loud pounding
on the great door and a shout of "Open, in the King's name!" The
knocking increases in violence and the command is repeated. Then men
begin to swing against the door with heavy bars and hatchets._)
THE TAILOR--Here (_he makes a gesture toward the girl_), take the cloth.
Go quickly to the kitchen. Then come back in a moment and save the rope,
too.
THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--But what do they want?
THE TAILOR--They want to kill me.
THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--They mustn't.
THE TAILOR--They won't if you get out and leave me alone. Here, hurry.
(_He half pushes her out the little door. Then he returns to the bag and
seems to pull out something. He looks to the ceiling and finds a hook
fairly in the middle of it. He moves his hand upward as if tossing
something, and goes through the motions of tying a knot around his neck.
Then the Tailor takes a chair and moves it to the center of the room. He
stands upon it. The violent assault upon the door begins with renewed
vigor. Some of the axes bite through the wood. The Tailor steps off the
chair and dangles in the air. He floats in space, like a man in a magic
trick, but one or two in the audience, dramatic critics, perhaps, or
scullery maids, may see that round his neck and fastened to the hook in
the ceiling is a yellow rope._)
(_Curtain._)