Many years ago, an emperor was so excessively fond of new clothes that he spent all his money on his dresses. He did not trouble himself in the least about his soldiers. He was rarely concerned or present to attend to any matters of his kingdom, except for the opportunities afforded him for displaying his new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of the day. In contrast to the other king or emperor, one was accustomed to say the emperor is sitting in his wardrobe instead of the council.
Time passed Merely 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 steps of the most beautiful colours and elaborate patterns, the clothes manufactured, which would have the wonderful property of remaining invisible to everyone who was unfit for the office he held or who was extraordinarily simple in character. It must indeed be splendid for the emperor to have such a suit made from such a specially weaved loom. The Emperor wished to find men in my realms who are unfit for their office and also be able to distinguish the wise from the foolish. The Emperor said "This stuff must be woven for me immediately", even if it caused large sums of money to be given to both the weavers.
So the two pretended weavers set up two looms and were affected to work very busily, though they did nothing at all in reality. They ask 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. However, he was 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 neighbours 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 faithful old minister went into the hall where the Naves were working with all their might at their empty looms.
What can be the meaning of this thought, the older 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 imposter's requested him very courteously to be so good as to come near their looms and then asked him whether the design pleased him and whether the colours 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. 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 Navy's still pretending to work, you do not say whether this stuff pleases you. Oh, it is excellent, replied the old minister, looking at the gloom through his spectacles, this pattern and the colours. Yes, I will tell the Emperor without delay how very beautiful I think of them.
We shall be much obliged to you, said the imposters. Then they named the different colours and described the pattern of the pretended stuff, and the old minister listened attentively to their words in order that he might repeat the same to the emperor. And then the Naves asked for more silk and gold, saying 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 all at their empty looms. The emperor now sent another officer of his court to see how the men were getting on and 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 staff appear as beautiful to you as it did to my lord, the minister, asked the impostors at the emperor's second ambassador while making the same gestures as before and talking of the design and colours that were not there?
I certainly am not stupid. Thought the messenger, and 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 colours and patterns. Yes, 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 talked of the splendid cloth which the emperor had ordered to be woven at his own expense. Now the Emperor himself wished to see the costly manufacture while it was still in the loom, accompanied by a select number of court officers, 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 colours.
And at the same time, they pointed to the empty frames, for they imagine 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 allowed, it has my complete approbation, and he smiled most graciously and looked closely at the empty looms for on account would he say that he could not see what two of the officers of his court had praised so much. All of his retinues 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 his general satisfaction and presented the imposters with the ribboned knighthood's order to be worn in their buttonholes. And the title of Gentleman Wavers.
The rogue sat up the whole of the night before the day on which the procession was to take place and had 16 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 volumes, 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 Grandy's of his court came to the weavers and the robes 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 mantel. The whole suit is as light as a cobweb one might fancy.
One has nothing on at all 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 is graciously pleased to take off your clothes, we will fit the new suit in front of the looking glass.
The Emperor was accordingly undressed, and the robes pretended to robe 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 colours these are indeed royal robes.
That canopy, which is to be borne over Your Majesty in the procession, is waiting and announces the ceremonies' chief master. I am quite ready, answered the Emperor. Do my new clothes fit well? Asked he, turning himself round again before the looking glass so 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 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 his capital streets. And all the people standing by and those at the windows cried out, Oh, how beautiful.
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 bed-chamber took greater pains than ever to appear holding up a train, although there was no train to hold in reality.
Originally written by Hans Christian Andersen, retold by Yap Cage.
