The Emperor's New Clothes

THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES

The Emperor has to be told!” cried the

Chancellor. “There’s no money left in the Exchequer. He’s spent it all on clothes!”

But the soldier at the door of the Emperor’s bedroom would not let the Chancellor in. “I’m sorry, your worship, but the Emperor’s in his wardrobe again, choosing something to wear. You can’t go in.” Then the door burst open and the Emperor appeared, followed by the Prime Minister. “I tell you I can’t see anyone today. I haven’t got a thing to wear. Oh Chancellor, there you are! Put the taxes up another ten per cent. I must have another suit.”

“But you already have so many clothes, your majesty, and I can’t raise income tax again. The people can’t pay any more money.”

“I don’t care,” said the Emperor. “I want another one. I’m the Emperor. I can have what I want!”

Nobody could argue with that. So, when two foreigners arrived that day at the palace gates saying they were tailors, they were allowed to see the Emperor. The tailors said that they made the finest clothes, from the most gorgeous and delicate cloth in the whole world.

“Where is this cloth? Let me see it! I want to see it!” the Emperor demanded.

“We haven’t woven it yet,” said one of the tailors. “You supply the materials, a loom, a large, bright room, and we’ll get weaving. We only supply the skilland of course the magic.”

“Magic? Magic? What magic?” said the excited Emperor.

“No-one mean or stupid, no-one unfit for their job, no-one unworthy of their place in the royal household will be able to see the cloth we weave.”

“Really?” cried the Emperor. “Amazing! Wonderful! Begin right away!

I’ll wear them tomorrow for the big parade through the city. Chancellor, give these men everything they need.” And he strode back upstairs to his dressing-room.

The tailors were taken to a big, comfortable room in the palace and left to start work on the large loom. But all they did was sit down and put their feet up on the royal chairs. And when the materials were brought_silk and mohair and pearls and cloth-of-gold—they hid them out of sight.

The Emperor sat in his throne-room thinking about the wonderful cloth being woven downstairs. Suddenly he grinned wickedly. “I’ll use this chance to find out if any of my ministers are mean or stupid or unfit for their jobs.” And so he sent for the Chancellor.

“Ask how soon it will be ready. Then come back and tell me how it looks. Of course, you may not see anything at all …”

So the Chancellor knocked on the sewing-room door and one of the tailors opened it. “Come in Chancellor, come in. As you can see, it’s almost finished.”

In the centre of the room stood the

big weaving loom, completely empty. The Chancellor just stared at it. “What!” he thought. “Am I stupid? Or mean? Am I unfit for my job? I can’t see anything. This is dreadful!”

“Er… very nice, lovely,” he mumbled. “Um, I like the pattern.”

“I can see you have good taste,” said one of the tailors. “Tell the Emperor his clothes will be ready early tomorrow but we need some cloth-of-gold.”

So the Chancellor went back to the Emperor, trembling and close to tears.

“Well, well, how does it look?” “Oh superb, sire. I’ve … I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

The Emperor rubbed his hands gleefully at the thought of his lovely new clothes and told himself that he had been right to appoint the Chancellor.

“Good man. Good man. Now send the Archbishop along to have a look at my new clothes.”

The Archbishop was sent in to see the magic cloth on its loom. After him it was the Prime Minister, and then the Commander-in-Chief of the Army. They all stared at the empty loom and thought how dreadful it was not to see any beautiful cloth.

“Am I mean?” thought the Archbishop.

“Am I stupid?” thought the Prime Minister.

“Am I the wrong man to be in charge of the Army?” thought the Commander-in-Chief.

And to hide their doubts, they all threw up their hands and admired the cloth.

“I particularly like the fringe,” said the Archbishop.

“What unusual colours,” said the Prime Minister.

“Excellent, first-class,” said the Commander-in-Chief.

They all trooped upstairs to tell the Emperor how wonderful the cloth was, and then the Emperor went down to be fitted for his new clothes.

But as he entered the room he was suddenly gripped by fear. “Oh my goodness! I can’t see a stitch of cloth! Am I more mean or stupid than all my ministers put together? Or am I not fit to be Emperor? Nobody must know I can’t see the magic cloth.”

“What do you think of it, your majesty?” asked the tailors, busily unrolling tape measures.

“Um, splendid. Yes, quite splendid,” he stuttered unhappily. And they pretended to measure the Emperor, undressing him right down to his underwear and fitting the loose cloth. He stood royally in front of the mirror. “Well, they think I’m dressed,” he thought, “so I must be.”

“Feel the quality,” said one tailor.

“It’s all fully lined, you know,” said the other. “We’ll work all night to make them a perfect fit.”

The two tailors did nothing, of course. They just slept.

The next morning the Emperor walked to their room to put on his new clothes. While his courtiers stood around and clapped, he went through all the actions of getting dressed.

“You look magnificent, your majesty,” said the Chancellor, anxious to keep his job.

“Very regal, I must say,” said the Archbishop.

“The people will love it,” said the Prime Minister.

“The buckles are pretty,” said the Commander-in-Chief.

News of the Emperor’s magic clothes had spread through the whole city. Crowds were forming outside the palace, and the streets were lined with people waiting to see the Emperor in all his splendour. Children sat astride their fathers’ shoulders with flags in their hands. Everybody had turned out to see the Emperor’s new clothes.

Slowly, solemnly, behind the royal banner and a band of trumpeters, The Emperor’s procession set out through the streets. Everyone had heard how the magic cloth could not be seen by anyone mean or stupid or unworthy of their job. And nobody wanted to admit to being that.

“Hooray! Hooray!” shouted the crowd. But there were many unhappy faces as people decided they must be more mcan or stupid than everyone else. “You can see them, can you?” “Well of course I can see them. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Meanwhile, back at the palace, the two crafty tailors packed up their store of rich materials and sneaked out of the city as fast as horses would take them.

Bowing to right and left, the Emperor wished that the magic cloth was not so beautifully light. He was bitterly cold. And he wished that the magic boots were not so wonderfully thin. The stones in the road were hurting his feet.

“Look! Look!,” said a father to his little boy. “The Emperor’s coming.” “Which one is he, Daddy?” “The one in the wonderful clothes.”

“But he isn’t wearing anything, Daddy. Look, he’s shivering. Why isn’t he wearing any clothes?”

People nearby in the crowd stared at the little boy.

“I’m sorry. He’s too young to know any better,” the child’s father apologised.

“He’s too young to be fooled, you mean,” said his mother. “The Emperor’s stark naked. Someone is making a fool of the Emperor. And of us!”

One by one, the crowd realised that the person to either side could no more see the new clothes than they could. “Can you see them?” “Of course I can’t. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“The Emperor’s stark naked!” they shouted. “The Emperor’s dressed in nothing at all.”

The Emperor blushed with embarrassment. He had been fooled by the tailors and now, here he was, parading in front of all the people without a stitch of clothing. The poor Emperor turned and fled back to the palace and never again did he waste money on new clothes.