Fairy Tales: The Emperor's New Clothes

Bedtime stories and fairy tales are loved by parents and children alike. One bedtime favorite is "The Emperor's New Clothes."

 

Many years ago, there was an Emperor who was so fond of new clothes that he spent all his money on them. He didn't trouble himself at all about his soldiers, and he didn't want to go to the theatre or the chase, except for opportunities to show his new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of the day.

 

One day, two scoundrels calling themselves weavers, appeared before the Emperor. They said they knew how to weave fabrics with the most beautiful colors and elaborate patterns, and with the wonderful quality of being invisible to everyone who was unfit for the office he held, or who was extraordinarily simple in character.

 

"These must, indeed, be splendid clothes!" thought the Emperor. "If I had a suit like that, I could find out immediately which men in my kingdom are unfit for their offices, and also tell the wise from the foolish!" So he arranged for large sums of money to be given to both weavers so they could start their work right away.

 

So the two pretended weavers went to work very busily on their looms, though they really 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 want to know how the weavers are progressing with my cloth," said the Emperor to himself after a short time. He was embarrassed, however, when he remembered that an idiot, or one unfit for his office, would be not be able to see the weaving. To be sure, even though he had nothing to risk by going himself, he preferred to first send somebody else to go and bring him information about the weavers and their work.

 

"I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers," the Emperor said. "He will be the best one to see how the cloth looks because 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 deceitful men were working with all their strength at their empty looms. "What's the meaning of this?" thought the old man. "I can't see the least bit of thread on the looms." However, he didn't say his thoughts out loud.

 

The impostors asked him very courteously to come near their looms, and then asked whether he liked the design and if the colors were beautiful, at the same time pointing to the empty looms. The poor old minister looked and looked and he couldn't see anything on the looms for a very good reason: there was nothing there.

 

"What!" he thought, again. "Is it possible that I am an idiot? Can it be that I'm unfit for my office? No one must find out. I will never confess that I could not see the fabric."

 

"Well, Sir Minister!" said one of the impostors, still pretending to work. "You haven't said yet whether you like the fabric."

 

"Oh, it's excellent!" replied the old minister, looking at the loom through his glasses. "This pattern, and the colors, yes, I will tell the Emperor right away how very beautiful I think they are."

 

"We will be much obliged," said the impostors, and then they named the different colors and described the pattern of the pretended fabric. The old minister listened carefully so he could repeat their words to the Emperor, and then the impostors asked for more silk and gold to finish what they'd begun. However, they put all that was given to them into their knapsacks; and continued to work with as diligence as before at their empty looms.

 

The Emperor then sent another officer of his court to find out if the cloth would be ready soon. It was the same with this officer as with the minister; he looked at all sides of the looms but couldn't see anything but the empty frames.

 

"I'm certainly not stupid!" thought the officer. "It must be that I'm not fit for my good, profitable office! That's very odd. However, no one will find out anything about it." And so he praised the fabric he couldn't see, and declared he was delighted with both colors and patterns. "Indeed," he said to the emperor when he returned, "the cloth the weavers are making is extraordinarily magnificent."

 

The whole city was talking of the splendid cloth that the Emperor had ordered to be woven at his own expense.

 

And now the Emperor himself wanted to see the costly fabric while it was still on the loom. Accompanied by officers of the court, among who were the two honest men who had already admired the cloth, he went to the crafty impostors. As soon as the impostors knew the Emperor was coming, they went on working more diligently than ever, although they still did not pass a single thread through the looms.

 

"Isn't the work absolutely magnificent?" said the two officers of the crown, already mentioned. "What a splendid design! What glorious colors!"

 

"How is this?" said the Emperor to himself. "I can see nothing! This is indeed a terrible affair! Am I an idiot, or am I unfit to be an Emperor? That would be the worst thing that could happen. "Oh, the cloth is charming!" he said aloud. "It has my complete approval." And he smiled most graciously and looked closely at the empty looms, for he would never say that he could not see what two of his court officers had praised so much.

 

All his servants 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 the splendid material for the next procession.

 

The Emperor presented the impostors with the symbol of an order of knighthood to be worn in their buttonholes, and the title of "Gentlemen Weavers."

 

The impostors sat up all night before the day of the procession so everyone could 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!" they cried, at last. "The Emperor's new clothes are ready!"

 

The Emperor was accordingly undressed and the impostors pretended to dress him in his new suit, the Emperor turning round, from side to side, before the mirror.

 

"How splendid his Majesty looks in his new clothes, and how well they fit!" everyone cried out. "What a design! What colors! These are indeed royal robes!"

 

"Do my new clothes fit well?" he asked, turning himself around again before the mirror, so he could appear to be examining his handsome suit.

 

The lords of the bedchamber, who were to carry his Majesty's train, fell on the ground as if they were lifting up the ends of the mantle and pretended to be carrying something. They would by no means betray anything that would make them unfit for their office.

 

So now the Emperor walked under his high canopy in the middle of the procession, through the streets of his capital. All the people cried out, "Oh! How beautiful are our Emperor's new clothes!" No one would let on that he could not see the clothes because he would have declared himself either an idiot or unfit for his office.

 

"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 said was whispered from one to another.

 

"But he has nothing at all on!" at last all the people cried out. The confused Emperor knew that the people were right but he thought the procession must go on! And the lords of the bedchamber worked harder than ever to appear holding up a train, although, in reality, there was no train to hold.

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