Emperors new clothes.
From The Book of Stories for the
Storyteller by Fanny E. Coe.
Start of Story
There once lived an Emperor who was so fond of fine
clothes that he spent great sums of money in order to be
beautifully dressed. He cared little about his army or
other affairs of State; he did not care for amusements;
nothing pleased him so much as walking abroad to show
off his new clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the
day; and as they often say of a king, "He is in the council
chamber," here it would usually be, "The Emperor is at
his toilet." The great city in which he lived had always
something fresh to show; every day many strangers
came there. One day two men arrived who said that they
were weavers, and knew how to manufacture the most
beautiful cloth imaginable. Not only were the material and
texture uncommonly beautiful, but clothes made of the
stuff possessed this wonderful property that they were
invisible to anyone who was not fit for his office, or who
was very stupid. "Those must indeed be splendid
clothes," thought the Emperor. "Besides, if I had an
outfit, I could find out which of my servants are unfit for
the offices they hold; I should know the wise from the
stupid! Yes, this cloth must be woven for me." And he
gave the men much money that they might begin at once
to weave their cloth. Of course they were impostors, but
they put together two looms, and began to move about as
if they were working, though they had nothing whatever
on the looms. They were also given quantities of the
finest silk and the best gold, which they hid.
"I wonder how far they have got on with the cloth,"
thought the Emperor one day. He remembered that
whoever was stupid or not fit for his office would be
unable to see the material. He certainly believed that he
had nothing to fear for himself, but he decided first to
send a high official in order to see how he stood the test.
Everybody in the whole town knew by this time what a
wonderful power the cloth had, and all were curious to
see what was to happen. "I will send my prime minister to
the weavers," thought the Emperor. "He can judge best
what the cloth is like, for he is the wisest man in my
kingdom." Accordingly the old minister went to the hall
where the impostors sat working at the empty looms.
"Dear me!" thought the old man, opening his eyes wide,
"I cannot see any cloth!" But he did not say so. "Dear,
dear!" thought he, "can I be stupid? Can I be not fit for
my office? No, I must certainly not admit that I cannot see
the cloth!" "Have you nothing to say?" asked one of the
men. "Oh, it is lovely, most lovely!" answered the old
minister, looking through his spectacles. "What smooth
texture! What glowing colours! Yes, I will tell the Emperor
that it is certainly very fine." "We are delighted to hear
you say that," said both the weavers, and they proceeded
to name the colours and describe the appearance of the
texture. The old minister listened with great attention, so
that he could tell the Emperor all about it on his return.
The impostors now demanded more money, and more
silk and gold to use in their weaving. They pocketed all,
and went on as they had done before, working at the
empty loom. The Emperor soon sent another official to
report as to when the cloth would be finished. The
minister looked and looked, but there was nothing on the
empty loom and of course he could see nothing. "Is it not
a beautiful piece of cloth?" asked the impostors, and they
appeared to display material which was not there.
"Stupid I am not!" thought the minister, "so it must be
that I am not fitted for my office. It is strange certainly,
but no one must be allowed to notice it." And he, too,
praised the cloth and pretended delight at the beautiful
colours and the splendid texture. "Yes, it is indeed
beautiful," he reported to the Emperor. Everybody in the
town was talking of the magnificent cloth, and the
Emperor decided to see it himself while it was still on the
loom. With a great crowd of courtiers, among whom were
both the ministers who had been there before, he went to
the impostors, who were making believe to weave with all
their might. "Is it not splendid!" said both the old
statesmen. "See, your Majesty, how fine is the texture!
What remarkable colours!" And then they pointed to the
empty loom, believing that all but themselves could see
the cloth quite well. "What is wrong?" thought the
Emperor. "I can certainly see nothing! This is indeed
horrible! I must be stupid, or unfit to be Emperor! It will
never do to let it be known! Yes, it is indeed very
beautiful," he said. "It has my entire approval." And then
he nodded pleasantly, and examined the empty loom with
an appearance of interest, for he would not admit that he
could see nothing. His courtiers, too, looked and looked,
and saw no more than the others; but they said like the
Emperor, "Oh! it is beautiful!" Everyone seemed so
delighted that the Emperor gave to the impostors the title
of Weavers to the Emperor.
Now there was to be a State procession the following
week and throughout the night before and the morning of
the day on which this was to take place the impostors
were working by the light of many candles. The people
could see that they appeared to be busy putting the
finishing touches to the Emperor's new clothes. They
pretended that they were taking the cloth from the loom;
they cut nothing with huge scissors, sewed with needles
without thread, and at last said, "The clothes are
finished!" The Emperor came himself with his favourites
and each impostor held up his arms as if he were
showing something and said, "See! here are the
breeches! Here is the coat! Here the cloak!" and so on.
"Our clothes are so comfortable that one might imagine
one had nothing on; that is the beauty of them!" "Yes,"
nodded the courtiers, although they could see nothing,
there being nothing there. "Will it please your Majesty
graciously to disrobe," said the impostors. The Emperor
took off all his clothes, and the men busied themselves
as if they were putting on various garments, while
meantime the Emperor surveyed himself in the mirror.
"How beautifully they fit! How well they suit his Majesty!"
said everybody. "If it please your Majesty, the procession
is ready," announced the Master of the Ceremonies. "I am
ready," said the Emperor. And he turned again to the
mirror as if to take a last admiring view of his finery.
The courtiers whose duty it was to bear the Emperor's
train put their hands near the floor as if to lift the train;
then they acted as if they were holding it up. They would
not have it known that they could see nothing. So the
Emperor strutted forward in the procession under a
splendid canopy, and the people in the streets and at the
windows said, "How grand are the Emperor's new
clothes! What beautiful silk, how it shines!" No one would
admit that he could see nothing, for that would have
proved him unfit for his office, or stupid. None of the
Emperor's clothes had ever been so praised. "But the
Emperor has nothing on!" said a child at last. "Listen to
the innocent child!" said the father, and each one
whispered to his neighbour what the child had said. "The
Emperor has nothing on!" the people began to call out at
last. This seemed to the Emperor to be true; but he
thought to himself, "I must not stop now." And the
courtiers walked behind him with pompous air, gravely
holding up the train which was not there.