The Emperor's New Clothes: Tales of type 1620 The Emperor's New Clothes The Emperor's New Clothes Denmark Many years ago there lived an emperor who loved beautiful new clothes so much that he spent all his money on being finely dressed. His only interest was in going to the theater or in riding about in his carriage where he could show off his new clothes. He had a different costume for every hour of the day. Indeed, where it was said of other kings that they were at court, it could only be said of him that he was in his dressing room! One day two swindlers came to the emperor's city. They said that they were weavers, claiming that they knew how to make the finest cloth imaginable. Not only were the colors and the patterns extraordinarily beautiful, but in addition, this material had the amazing property that it was to be invisible to anyone who was incompetent or stupid. "It would be wonderful to have clothes made from that cloth," thought the emperor. "Then I would know which of my men are unfit for their positions, and I'd also be able to tell clever people from stupid ones." So he immediately gave the two swindlers a great sum of money to weave their cloth for him.

They set up their looms and pretended to go to work, although there was nothing at all on the looms. They asked for the finest silk and the purest gold, all of which they hid away, continuing to work on the empty looms, often late into the night. "I would really like to know how they are coming with the cloth!" thought the emperor, but he was a bit uneasy when he recalled that anyone who was unfit for his position or stupid would not be able to see the material. Of course, he himself had nothing to fear, but still he decided to send someone else to see how the work was progressing. "I'll send my honest old minister to the weavers," thought the emperor. He's the best one to see how the material is coming. He is very sensible, and no one is more worthy of his position than he. So the good old minister went into the hall where the two swindlers sat working at their empty looms. "Goodness!" thought the old minister, opening his eyes wide. "I cannot see a thing!" But he did not say so. The two swindlers invited him to step closer, asking him if it wasn't a beautiful design and if the colors weren't magnificent.

They pointed to the empty loom, and the poor old minister opened his eyes wider and wider. He still could see nothing, for nothing was there. "Gracious" he thought. "Is it possible that I am stupid? I have never thought so. Am I unfit for my position? No one must know this. No, it will never do for me to say that I was unable to see the material." "You aren't saying anything!" said one of the weavers. "Oh, it is magnificent! The very best!" said the old minister, peering through his glasses. "This pattern and these colors! Yes, I'll tell the emperor that I am very satisfied with it!" "That makes us happy!" said the two weavers, and they called the colors and the unusual pattern by name. The old minister listened closely so that he would be able say the same things when he reported back to the emperor, and that is exactly what he did. The swindlers now asked for more money, more silk, and more gold, all of which they hid away. Then they continued to weave away as before on the empty looms. The emperor sent other officials as well to observe the weavers' progress.

They too were startled when they saw nothing, and they too reported back to him how wonderful the material was, advising him to have it made into clothes that he could wear in a grand procession. The entire city was alive in praise of the cloth. "Magnifique! Nysseligt! Excellent!" they said, in all languages. The emperor awarded the swindlers with medals of honor, bestowing on each of them the title Lord Weaver. The swindlers stayed up the entire night before the procession was to take place, burning more than sixteen candles. Everyone could see that they were in a great rush to finish the emperor's new clothes. They pretended to take the material from the looms. They cut in the air with large scissors. They sewed with needles but without any thread. Finally they announced, "Behold! The clothes are finished!" The emperor came to them with his most distinguished cavaliers. The two swindlers raised their arms as though they were holding something and said, "Just look at these trousers! Here is the jacket! This is the cloak!" and so forth. "They are as light as spider webs!

You might think that you didn't have a thing on, but that is the good thing about them." "Yes," said the cavaliers, but they couldn't see a thing, for nothing was there. "Would his imperial majesty, if it please his grace, kindly remove his clothes." said the swindlers. "Then we will fit you with the new ones, here in front of the large mirror." The emperor took off all his clothes, and the swindlers pretended to dress him, piece by piece, with the new ones that were to be fitted. They took hold of his waist and pretended to tie something about him. It was the train. Then the emperor turned and looked into the mirror. "Goodness, they suit you well! What a wonderful fit!" they all said. "What a pattern! What colors! Such luxurious clothes!" "The canopy to be carried above your majesty awaits outside," said the grandmaster of ceremonies. "Yes, I am ready!" said the emperor. "Don't they fit well?" He turned once again toward the mirror, because it had to appear as though he were admiring himself in all his glory.

The chamberlains who were to carry the train held their hands just above the floor as if they were picking up the train. As they walked they pretended to hold the train high, for they could not let anyone notice that they could see nothing. The emperor walked beneath the beautiful canopy in the procession, and all the people in the street and in their windows said, "Goodness, the emperor's new clothes are incomparable! What a beautiful train on his jacket. What a perfect fit!" No one wanted it to be noticed that he could see nothing, for then it would be said that he was unfit for his position or that he was stupid. None of the emperor's clothes had ever before received such praise. "But he doesn't have anything on!" said a small child. "Good Lord, let us hear the voice of an innocent child!" said the father, and whispered to another what the child had said.

"A small child said that he doesn't have anything on!" Finally everyone was saying, "He doesn't have anything on!" The emperor shuddered, for he knew that they were right, but he thought, "The procession must go on!" He carried himself even more proudly, and the chamberlains walked along behind carrying the train that wasn't there. Source: Hans Christian Andersen, Keiserens nye klæder (1837). Translated by D. L. Ashliman. Andersen's source: " The Invisible Cloth ," Spanish story recorded by Don Juan Manuel (1282-1348). Andersen knew this story through a German translation "So ist der Lauf der Welt ("Such Is the Way of the World"), in: Eduard von Bülow, Das Novellenbuch , vol. 4 (Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1836), no. 3, pp. 40-44 .

The Invisible Cloth Spain Three impostors came to a king, and told him they were cloth-weavers, and could fabricate a cloth of so peculiar a nature that a legitimate son of his father could see the cloth; but if he were illegitimate, though believed to be legitimate, he could not see it. Now the king was much pleased at this, thinking that by this means he would be able to distinguish the men in his kingdom who were legitimate sons of their supposed fathers from those who were not, and so be enabled to increase his treasures, for among the Moors only legitimate children inherit their father's property; and for this end he ordered a palace to be appropriated to the manufacture of this cloth. And these men, in order to convince him that they had no intention of deceiving him, agreed to be shut up in this palace until the cloth was manufactured, which satisfied the king. When they were supplied with a large quantity of gold, silver, silk, and many other things, they entered the palace, and, putting their looms in order, gave it to be understood that they were working all day at the cloth.

After some days, one of them came to the king and told him the cloth was commenced, that it was the most curious thing in the world, describing the design and construction; he then prayed the king to favor them with a visit, but begged he would come alone. The king was much pleased, but wishing to have the opinion of some one first, sent the lord chamberlain to see it, in order to know if they were deceiving him. When the lord chamberlain saw the workmen, and heard all they had to say, he dared not admit he could not see the cloth, and when he returned to the king he stated that he had seen it; the king sent yet another, who gave the same report. When they whom he had sent declared that they had seen the cloth he determined to go himself.

On entering the palace and seeing the men at work, who began to describe the texture and relate the origin of the invention as also the design and color, in which they all appeared to agree, although in reality they were not working; when the king saw how they appeared to work, and heard the character of the cloth so minutely described, and yet could not see it, although those he had sent had seen it, he began to feel very uneasy, fearing he might not be the son of the king, who was supposed to be his father, and that if he acknowledged he could not see the cloth he might lose his kingdom; under this impression he commenced praising the fabric, describing its peculiarities after the manner of the workmen. On the return to his palace he related to his people how good and marvelous was the cloth, yet at the same time suspected something wrong. At the end of two or three days the king requested his Alguacil (or officer of justice) to go and see the cloth.

When the Alguacil entered and saw the workmen, who, as before, described the figures and pattern of the cloth, knowing that the king had been to see it, and yet could not see it himself, he thought he certainly could not be the legitimate son of his father, and therefore could not see it. He, however, feared if he was to declare that he could not see it he would lose his honorable position; to avoid this mischance he commenced praising the cloth even more vehemently than the others. When the Alguacil returned to the king and told him that he had seen the cloth, and that it was the most extraordinary production in the world, the king was much disconcerted; for he thought that if the Alguacil had seen the cloth, which he was unable to see, there could no longer be a doubt that he was not the legitimate son of the king, as was generally supposed, he therefore did not hesitate to praise the excellency of the cloth and the skill of the workmen who were able to make it.

On another day he sent one of his councillors, and it happened to him as to the king and the others of whom I have spoken; and in this manner and for this reason they deceived the king and many others, for no one dared to say he could not see the cloth. Things went on thus until there came a great feast, when all requested the king to be dressed in some of the cloth; so the workmen, being ordered, brought some rolled up in a very fine linen and inquired of the king how much of it he wished them to cut off; so the king gave orders how much and how to make it up. Now when the clothes were made and the feast day had arrived the weavers brought them to the king, informing his majesty that his dress was made of the cloth as he had directed, the king all this time not daring to say he could not see it. When the king had professed to dress himself in this suit he mounted on horseback and rode into the city; but fortunately for him it was summertime.

The people seeing his majesty come in this manner were much surprised; but knowing that those who could not see this cloth would be considered illegitimate sons of their fathers, kept their surprise to themselves, fearing the dishonor consequent upon such a declaration. Not so, however, with a negro, who happened to notice the king thus equipped; for he, having nothing to lose, came to him and said, "Sire, to me it matters not whose son I am, therefore I tell you that you are riding without any clothes." On this the king commenced beating him, saying that he was not the legitimate son of his supposed father, and therefore it was that he could not see the cloth. But no sooner had the negro said this, than others were convinced of its truth, and said the same; until, at last, the king and all with him lost their fear of declaring the truth, and saw through the trick of which these impostors had made them the victims. When the weavers were sought for they were found to have fled, taking with them all they had received from the king by their imposition.

How Eulenspiegel Painted the Forbears of the Landgrave of Hessen Germany Many marvellous things did Eulenspiegel bring to pass in the land of Hessen. After that he had journeyed up and down in the country of Saxony, and his fame had spread so abroad that no longer dare he work his knaveries and beguilings in that land, came our worshipful master forth from Saxony, and did enter into the land of Hessen, and came therein unto Marburg, unto the landgrave where that he kept his court. Then inquired the landgrave of Eulenspiegel, what manner of man he was and what he could do. Then answered Eulenspiegel, and said: "Lord, I know the arts, and that manner of man am I, and your humble servant." Thereat rejoiced the landgrave greatly, for he thought that Eulenspiegel was an alchymist, and in alchymy had the landgrave much delight.

Then spake he unto him, saying: "Art thou an alchymist?" And Eulenspiegel answered: "Nay, that am I not, in good sooth, for of dross make not I gold, but rather quite the other thing. Yet am I a painter, the equal unto whom can be nowhere found in any country, for my work is far better than the work of any other painter." Then said the landgrave: "Come, let us now look upon some of thy work." And Eulenspiegel said: "Yea, my lord." And he had with him some paintings cunningly devised, the which he had brought out of Flanders. These took he from his wallet, and displayed them before that prince. These pleased the lord much, and he said unto Eulenspiegel: "Worshipful sir painter, what money will ye have if that ye would paint on the wall of our castle hall the story of the family of the landgraves of Hessen, and how that through them I became friendly unto and with the King of Hungary, and other lords and princes, and how long the land of Hessen hath been established?

And that must ye tell me in the wise that will be most costly and precious." Then answered Eulenspiegel: "Behold, most gracious prince, if that ye would have it so rarely done, it might truly cost not less than four hundred marks." Then answered the landgrave, and said unto Eulenspiegel: "Master, an if you do but make it rarely, the money shall not fail, nor will we forget to reward thee as ye shall deserve." Then did Eulenspiegel consent to become the painter of the picture; and thereat gave the landgrave unto Eulenspiegel one hundred marks so that he might buy colours therewith. But when that Eulenspiegel came with three servants he had found, to see what the work was which was to be done, he gat him unto the landgrave, and spake unto him, and entreated him, saying: "Behold, noble prince, I would crave a grace from ye, which I would ask that ye should grant unto me." Then spake the landgrave: "Yea, that I will grant thee.

Speak on." And Eulenspiegel answered, and said: "The grace I crave from thee is, that, while my work is going forward, no one shall enter without that they ask of me whether they may enter therein." And therewith the landgrave granted Eulenspiegel the grace he desired. Then conferred Eulenspiegel with his men, and said unto them, that they must take an oath unto him not to betray him; and so did they. And he said unto them, that they need not do any kind of labour, but they might play at tables and chess and other merry pastimes. And thereat were the men content; nor was it greatly marvellous that in such wise they should be, for Eulenspiegel did promise to pay them for serving him after this manner. Then it came to pass, after some three or four weeks had gone by, that the landgrave craved much to see in what measure the painting of Eulenspiegel was ready, and whether, of a truth, it did resemble the ensamples which Eulenspiegel had shewn unto him, which were so goodly and fair.

Thereat gat he him to Eulenspiegel, and said unto him: "Alas, most worshipful master, I would fain come into the hall and see in what measure my picture doth grow ready." Then Eulenspiegel spake unto the landgrave, and answered him, and said: "Yea, and that shall ye also do. But I must tell unto thee a marvellous secret which doth touch all my painting, in that no one, if he be ignobly born, or not according unto the ordinance of Holy Church, can behold my painting to see it." The landgrave said thereafter: "Truly that is a marvellous thing." Yet, my masters, ye may perceive in that the landgrave was an alchymist, so had he also more belief in such affairs than cometh unto the lot of all men. And then went he with Eulenspiegel into the hall, and there had Eulenspiegel hanged up a white cloth, that he should have painted.

And with a white wand did he point to the wall when that he had with his hand put the cloth somewhat aside, and then spake he to the landgrave, and said unto him: "Most noble landgrave, look upon this painting, so marvellous well done and with fair colours, and behold here in this corner he that was first lord of Hessen and earl of the land. And here perceive ye one that was an earl of Rome there unto, and he had a princess and a wife, who was duchess of Bavaria and a daughter of the mild and good Justinian, who afterwards became emperor. And look ye, noble lord; of them was born Adolphus. And of Adolphus came William the Swart; and this William had a son Ludwig, who was named the Pious; and so forward until that we come down unto your lordship's grace.

And I know well that there is no person living that can reprove my work, so curiously have I made it, and with such fair and goodly colours." Yet saw the lord nought before his face but the white wall, and he thought unto himself: "Though I see no thing but the wall, yet will I say nought unto the master, else will he know full well that L am not nobly born, but basely and vilely." Therefore said the landgrave unto Eulenspiegel: "Learned and cunning master painter, your work pleaseth me marvellously well, yet is my understanding very small therein." Therefore departed he out of the hall. And when that he did come unto the princess his wife, she spake unto him, and asked him, saying: "How goeth it with the master painter? Ye have seen his work and devices, and how are ye pleased therewith? Truly have I but small belief in him; for he seemeth unto me a rare and most cunning knave and beguiler." And the landgrave answered her: "I have shrewd trust in him; and therein is displayed great cunning and mastery; I like it well.

Would it please thee also to look thereon?" And she said: "Yea, that it would." And the landgrave said: "Then, with the master's consent, shall ye do it." Then sent she for Eulenspiegel, and said unto him, that she did desire to behold his painting. And that did Eulenspiegel grant unto her; but he told her likewise the marvellous secret which did hang upon his painting. And they entered in, and with the princess came eight maidens of her women and her woman-fool, which did everywhere be in her company. And Eulenspiegel put back the cloth with his hand, and with his wand told them the same story which he had told unto the landgrave. Yet perceived they nothing; but being ashamed, spake not any word, neither praising nor blaming the picture.

But then did the woman-fool open her mouth, and spake, and said unto Eulenspiegel: "Worshipful master, an if it be that I am basely born, yet see I no thing of thy device upon the wall." And Eulenspiegel thought: "Now goeth the matter not so rarely on as before; for if the fools speak truth, then truly must I depart hence," and laughed thereat within himself. Thereafter departed the princess, and went unto her lord and husband, and he spake unto her, and asked her how that the work liked [pleased] her. And she answered and said: "Most gracious lord, it liketh me as well as it did you, and truly is most rare. But my woman-fool it liketh not; and she saith that she cannot see any painting there at all.

And she and my maidens think that there lieth hid some knavish practice therein." Thereat began the landgrave to take counsel within himself, if it might be that he was beguiled; but he sent word unto Eulenspiegel that he should make ready his work, for that all his court was coming to behold the picture, and that if any among them fortuned to be base-born, then should their lands be escheated unto the landgrave. Thereat gat him Eulenspiegel unto his fellows and discharged them, and gave them money, and they departed. And then went he unto the treasurer, and of him gat he other hundred marks; and then went he forth from the castle, and so departed on his way. And it came to pass that on the morrow the landgrave demanded where that his painter might be -- but he had departed. Thereat went he with all his lords into the hall where that the master had exercised his cunning device, but there saw they no painting; so they spake no words, but kept their mouths shut.

Thereat said the landgrave, for he beheld the sign which Eulenspiegel did always write where that he had worked any knavery, which was that he wrote up the device of an owl [Eule] and a glass [Spiegel]: "Now do we know that we are be guiled; and with Eulenspiegel have we but little for to be moved, but rather for the two hundred marks, but the loss thereof can we likewise bear. But a great knave is he, and must henceforth remain far from our lands." Thus did our noble Master Eulenspiegel everywhere teach wisdom unto the lieges; but from Marburg had he gat him forth, nor would he again have to do with the painter's mastery. Hans Christian Andersen : The Emperor's New Clothes The Emperor's New Clothes A translation of Hans Christian Andersen's "Keiserens nye Klï¿½der" by Jean Hersholt . Info & links Many years ago there was an Emperor so exceedingly fond of new clothes that he spent all his money on being well dressed. He cared nothing about reviewing his soldiers, going to the theatre, or going for a ride in his carriage, except to show off his new clothes.

He had a coat for every hour of the day, and instead of saying, as one might, about any other ruler, "The King's in council," here they always said. "The Emperor's in his dressing room." In the great city where he lived, life was always gay. Every day many strangers came to town, and among them one day came two swindlers. They let it be known they were weavers, and they said they could weave the most magnificent fabrics imaginable. Not only were their colors and patterns uncommonly fine, but clothes made of this cloth had a wonderful way of becoming invisible to anyone who was unfit for his office, or who was unusually stupid. "Those would be just the clothes for me," thought the Emperor. "If I wore them I would be able to discover which men in my empire are unfit for their posts. And I could tell the wise men from the fools. Yes, I certainly must get some of the stuff woven for me right away." He paid the two swindlers a large sum of money to start work at once. They set up two looms and pretended to weave, though there was nothing on the looms.

All the finest silk and the purest old thread which they demanded went into their traveling bags, while they worked the empty looms far into the night. "I'd like to know how those weavers are getting on with the cloth," the Emperor thought, but he felt slightly uncomfortable when he remembered that those who were unfit for their position would not be able to see the fabric. It couldn't have been that he doubted himself, yet he thought he'd rather send someone else to see how things were going. The whole town knew about the cloth's peculiar power, and all were impatient to find out how stupid their neighbors were. "I'll send my honest old minister to the weavers," the Emperor decided. "He'll be the best one to tell me how the material looks, for he's a sensible man and no one does his duty better." So the honest old minister went to the room where the two swindlers sat working away at their empty looms. "Heaven help me," he thought as his eyes flew wide open, "I can't see anything at all". But he did not say so. Both the swindlers begged him to be so kind as to come near to approve the excellent pattern, the beautiful colors.

They pointed to the empty looms, and the poor old minister stared as hard as he dared. He couldn't see anything, because there was nothing to see. "Heaven have mercy," he thought. "Can it be that I'm a fool? I'd have never guessed it, and not a soul must know. Am I unfit to be the minister? It would never do to let on that I can't see the cloth." "Don't hesitate to tell us what you think of it," said one of the weavers. "Oh, it's beautiful -it's enchanting." The old minister peered through his spectacles. "Such a pattern, what colors!" I'll be sure to tell the Emperor how delighted I am with it." "We're pleased to hear that," the swindlers said. They proceeded to name all the colors and to explain the intricate pattern. The old minister paid the closest attention, so that he could tell it all to the Emperor. And so he did. The swindlers at once asked for more money, more silk and gold thread, to get on with the weaving. But it all went into their pockets. Not a thread went into the looms, though they worked at their weaving as hard as ever.

The Emperor presently sent another trustworthy official to see how the work progressed and how soon it would be ready. The same thing happened to him that had happened to the minister. He looked and he looked, but as there was nothing to see in the looms he couldn't see anything. "Isn't it a beautiful piece of goods?" the swindlers asked him, as they displayed and described their imaginary pattern. "I know I'm not stupid," the man thought, "so it must be that I'm unworthy of my good office. That's strange. I mustn't let anyone find it out, though." So he praised the material he did not see. He declared he was delighted with the beautiful colors and the exquisite pattern. To the Emperor he said, "It held me spellbound." All the town was talking of this splendid cloth, and the Emperor wanted to see it for himself while it was still in the looms. Attended by a band of chosen men, among whom were his two old trusted officials-the ones who had been to the weavers-he set out to see the two swindlers. He found them weaving with might and main, but without a thread in their looms.

"Magnificent," said the two officials already duped. "Just look, Your Majesty, what colors! What a design!" They pointed to the empty looms, each supposing that the others could see the stuff. "What's this?" thought the Emperor. "I can't see anything. This is terrible! Am I a fool? Am I unfit to be the Emperor? What a thing to happen to me of all people! - Oh! It's very pretty," he said. "It has my highest approval." And he nodded approbation at the empty loom. Nothing could make him say that he couldn't see anything. His whole retinue stared and stared. One saw no more than another, but they all joined the Emperor in exclaiming, "Oh! It's very pretty," and they advised him to wear clothes made of this wonderful cloth especially for the great procession he was soon to lead. "Magnificent! Excellent! Unsurpassed!" were bandied from mouth to mouth, and everyone did his best to seem well pleased.

The Emperor gave each of the swindlers a cross to wear in his buttonhole, and the title of "Sir Weaver." Before the procession the swindlers sat up all night and burned more than six candles, to show how busy they were finishing the Emperor's new clothes. They pretended to take the cloth off the loom. They made cuts in the air with huge scissors. And at last they said, "Now the Emperor's new clothes are ready for him." Then the Emperor himself came with his noblest noblemen, and the swindlers each raised an arm as if they were holding something. They said, "These are the trousers, here's the coat, and this is the mantle," naming each garment. "All of them are as light as a spider web. One would almost think he had nothing on, but that's what makes them so fine." "Exactly," all the noblemen agreed, though they could see nothing, for there was nothing to see.

"If Your Imperial Majesty will condescend to take your clothes off," said the swindlers, "we will help you on with your new ones here in front of the long mirror." The Emperor undressed, and the swindlers pretended to put his new clothes on him, one garment after another. They took him around the waist and seemed to be fastening something - that was his train-as the Emperor turned round and round before the looking glass. "How well Your Majesty's new clothes look. Aren't they becoming!" He heard on all sides, "That pattern, so perfect! Those colors, so suitable! It is a magnificent outfit." Then the minister of public processions announced: "Your Majesty's canopy is waiting outside." "Well, I'm supposed to be ready," the Emperor said, and turned again for one last look in the mirror. "It is a remarkable fit, isn't it?" He seemed to regard his costume with the greatest interest. The noblemen who were to carry his train stooped low and reached for the floor as if they were picking up his mantle. Then they pretended to lift and hold it high. They didn't dare admit they had nothing to hold. So off went the Emperor in procession under his splendid canopy.

Everyone in the streets and the windows said, "Oh, how fine are the Emperor's new clothes! Don't they fit him to perfection? And see his long train!" Nobody would confess that he couldn't see anything, for that would prove him either unfit for his position, or a fool. No costume the Emperor had worn before was ever such a complete success. "But he hasn't got anything on," a little child said. "Did you ever hear such innocent prattle?" said its father. And one person whispered to another what the child had said, "He hasn't anything on. A child says he hasn't anything on." "But he hasn't got anything on!" the whole town cried out at last. The Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, "This procession has got to go on." So he walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn't there at all. The Emperor's New Clothes Interactive Story | Speakaboos Read to Me Description A vain emperor is the target of two tricksters who claim they weave beautiful clothing that's invisible to simpletons or those unfit for office.

The emperor pays them a large sum, and they pretend to weave him a suit on their looms. The emperor and his men check on the weavers' progress but are afraid to admit they see nothing. The emperor puts on his new “suit” and parades naked through town. The people admire his “clothes,” until a boy says what no one else would—the emperor is wearing nothing! This story is a reminder to speak the truth, regardless of what others might think. More in "Stories" Full Text Once upon a time, there was an Emperor, who was so very fond of new clothes that he spent all of his money on buying them. He did not worry about his land or army or people or ruling his empire at all. He had a different suit for each hour of the day. One day, two tricksters appeared at the kingdom. They dressed and acted as though they were trustworthy men and claimed to be clothes makers. They said that they knew how to weave clothing that had the most beautiful colors and patterns. But, they said to anyone who would listen, “Our clothing is very different from anything else you know of.

Our clothing is invisible to anyone who is either a simpleton or who is unfit to hold their office.” But, they said to anyone who would listen, “Our clothing is very different from anything else you know of. Our clothing is invisible to anyone who is either a simpleton or who is unfit to hold their office.” When the men told the Emperor about their clothing, he thought to himself, “What fabulous clothes! If I wore a suit made of these fabrics, I could determine which of my men is unfit for their office and I could tell who is wise and who is foolish.” “Now,” said the Emperor to the clothes makers, “you must weave me a suit immediately.” Then, he gave the weavers a large bag of money so that they could begin their work immediately. He also told his servants to take the weavers to a large room in the palace so that he could check on them while they worked on his suit. The two weavers, who were great tricksters and did not know how to weave at all, set up two weaving looms and pretended to work very hard. Days passed, and the Emperor wanted to know how much work had been done on his suit.

But, he did not want to visit the weavers himself, because he knew that a simpleton or a person unfit for his job would not be able to see the fabric. And, the Emperor did not want to know if he was such a person. So, he decided to send someone else to find out how the weaving was going. He sent his old faithful minister, who he knew to be very wise and very worthy of his job. The faithful old minister went to the room where the tricksters were working with all of their might at their empty looms. But when he entered the room, the old man was shocked and embarrassed. He could not see anything on the looms. They looked empty to him. The impostors asked him to come very close to the looms, and while pointing to the empty looms, asked the minister whether he liked the design and the colors. The poor old minister looked and looked, but he could not discover anything on the looms, and for a very good reason. There was nothing there! “What!” he thought to himself. “Is it possible that I am a simpleton? I have never thought so, and I cannot let anyone know if I am.

Or, what if I am unfit for my office? Well, no one can know that either. I will just pretend I can see the fabric.” Then he listened very closely as the impostors named the different colors and described the pattern of the imaginary fabric. When he saw the Emperor, he repeated what the imposters had said, and the Emperor was very happy, for the suit sounded wonderful. More time passed, and the Emperor sent more and more officers of court to see how much longer it would take for the suit to be completed. Each one looked at the empty looms, and each was afraid that he was a simpleton or unfit for his job. And so, each listened to the imposters’ descriptions of the suit, and then repeated it to the Emperor. Soon, the whole empire was talking about the Emperor’s suit, and they all knew what it meant if one could not see it. They were all very excited to find out who among them was wise or foolish. And now, it was time for the Emperor himself to see the suit, which had cost him a lot of money. He went to the weaver’s room, with a few of the officers of the court who had already seen the suit.

When he looked at the empty looms, an officer asked him, “Isn’t this suit absolutely magnificent?” “How can I not see the suit?” thought the Emperor to himself. “Am I a simpleton, or am I unfit to be the Emperor? That would be horrible!” “Oh! I love what you have done with fabric. The suit is absolutely fabulous,” said the Emperor to the weavers. He too had decided to pretend to see the suit so that no one would know that he was a simpleton or unfit to be Emperor. The officers advised the Emperor to wear the suit to the upcoming festival, which was to begin with a parade led by the Emperor and he agreed. On the day of the parade, the Emperor came to the weavers. One of the tricksters held his arms up as if he were carrying a jacket and said, “Your Majesty, here is your jacket, please try it on.” The other pretended to be holding something as well, and said, ““Your Majesty, here are your trousers, please try them on.” The Emperor took off his silk suit, which was very regal and tried to put on the invisible one. Finally, the Emperor walked out of the palace and led the parade through the city.

All the people looking on cried out, “Oh! How beautiful are our Emperor’s new clothes! What a magnificent suit he has.” No one would admit that they could not see the Emperor’s clothes because no one wanted to be thought of as a simpleton or unfit for their job. “But the Emperor has nothing on at all!” said a little child. “Listen to the voice of an innocent child!” exclaimed the child’s father, and what the child had said was whispered from one person to another. Finally, all the people cried out, “The Emperor has nothing on at all!” The Emperor was very upset because he knew that the people were right, but he knew that the procession must go on until he could get back to his palace. Based on the story by: Hans Christian Andersen Illustrated by: Constanthing The Emperor's New Clothes | Fairy Tales and Other Traditional Stories | Hans Christian Andersen | Lit2Go ETC Fairy Tales and Other Traditional Stories Source: Andersen, H.C. (1837). Andersen’s Fairy Tales. Children’s Classics. Readability: Chicago Andersen, H. (1837). The Emperor's New Clothes. Fairy Tales and Other Traditional Stories (Lit2Go Edition).

Retrieved January 19, 2017, from Andersen, Hans Christian. "The Emperor's New Clothes." Fairy Tales and Other Traditional Stories. Lit2Go Edition. 1837. Web. < January 19, 2017. Hans Christian Andersen, "The Emperor's New Clothes," Fairy Tales and Other Traditional Stories, Lit2Go Edition, (1837), accessed January 19, 2017, Back The embedded audio player requires a modern internet browser. You should visit Browse Happy and update your internet browser today! Many years ago, there was an Emperor who was so very fond of new clothes that he spent all his money on them. He did not trouble about his soldiers. He did not care to go to the theatre. He only went out when he had the chance to show off his new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of the day. Most kings could be found sitting in council. It was said of the Emperor, “He is sitting in his wardrobe.” One day, two fellows calling themselves weavers came to town. They said that they knew how to weave cloth of the most beautiful colors and patterns.

The clothes made from this wonderful cloth would be invisible to everyone who was unfit for the job he held, or who was very simple in character. “These must, indeed, be splendid clothes!” thought the Emperor. “If I had such a suit, I might at once find out what men in my kingdom are unfit for their job. I would be able to tell the wise men from the foolish! This stuff must be woven for me immediately.” He gave large sums of money to both the weavers in order that they might begin their work at once. So the two pretend weavers set up two looms. They worked very busily, though in reality they did nothing at all. They asked for the finest silk and the purest gold thread. They put both into their own knapsacks. Then they pretended to 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 one day. When he remembered that a simpleton, or one unfit for his job would be unable to see the cloth he began to worry. To be sure, he thought he was safe. However, he would prefer sending somebody else to bring him news about the weavers, and their work.

All the people in the kingdom had heard of the wonderful cloth. All were eager to learn how wise or how foolish their neighbors might be. “I will send my faithful old wise man to the weavers,” said the Emperor atlast. “He will be best able to see how the cloth looks. He is a man of sense. No one can be better for his job than he is.” So the faithful old wise man went into the hall where the thieves were working with all their might at their empty looms. “What can be the meaning of this?” thought the old man, opening his eyes very wide. “I cannot find the least bit of thread on the looms.” However, he did not say his thoughts aloud. The thieves asked him very kindly to be so good as to come nearer their looms. Then, they asked him whether the cloth pleased him. They asked whether the colors were not very beautiful. All the time they were pointing to the empty frames. The poor old wise man looked and looked. He could not see anything on the looms for a very good reason. There was nothing there. “What!” thought he again. “Is it possible that I am a fool? I have never thought so myself.

No one must know it now if I am so. Can it be, that I am unfit for my job? No, the Emperor must not know that either. I will never tell that I could not see the stuff.” “Well, Sir!” said one of the weavers still pretending to work. “You do not say whether the cloth pleases you.” “Oh, it is excellent!” replied the old wise man, looking at the loom through his spectacles. “This pattern, and the colors, yes, I will tell the Emperor without delay, how very beautiful I think them.” “We shall be much obliged to you,” said the thieves. Then they named the many colors and described the pattern of the pretended stuff. The old wise man listened with care to their words so he might repeat them to the Emperor. The thieves asked for more silk and gold saying that it was necessary to complete what they had begun. Once again they put all that was given them into their knapsacks. They went on working with as much effort as before at their empty looms. The Emperor soon sent another man from his court to see how the weavers were getting on. Now he wanted to know if the cloth would soon be ready.

It was just the same with this gentleman as with the wise man. First he looked closely at the looms on all sides. He could see nothing at all but the empty frames. “Does not the stuff appear as beautiful to you, as it did to my lord the wise man?” asked the thieves of the Emperor’s second advisor. “I certainly am not stupid!” thought the man. “It must be, that I am not fit for my good job! That is very odd. However, no one shall know anything about it.” And so he praised the stuff he could not see. He declared that he was happy with both colors and patterns. “Indeed, your Imperial Majesty,” he said to his emperor when he returned. “The cloth which the weavers are preparing is extraordinarily magnificent.” The whole city was talking of the splendid cloth, which the Emperor had ordered to be woven. Finally, the Emperor himself wished to see the costly material while it was still in the loom. He took many officers of the court and the two honest men who had already admired the cloth. As soon as the weavers saw the Emperor approach, they went on working faster than ever although they still did not pass even one 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 colors!” and at the same time they pointed to the empty frames; for they imagined 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, aloud. “I approve of it completely.” He smiled most graciously and looked closely at the empty looms. No way would he say that he could not see what two of his advisors had praised so much. Everyone with the Emperor now strained his or her 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 parade that was planned. “Magnificent! Charming! Excellent!” was called out on all sides. Everyone was very cheerful. The Emperor was pleased.

He presented the weavers with the emblem of an order of knighthood. The thieves sat up the whole of the night before the day on which the parade was to take place. They had sixteen 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 the looms. They 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!” The Emperor, with all the grandees of his court, came to the weavers. The thieves raised their arms, as if in the act of holding something up. “Here are your Majesty’s trousers! Here is the scarf! Here is the mantle! The whole suit is as light as a cobweb; one might fancy one has nothing at all on, when dressed in it.” “Yes indeed!” said all the courtiers, although not one of them could see anything of this special cloth. The Emperor was undressed for a fitting, and the thieves pretended to array him in his new suit. The Emperor turned round and 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 colors! These are indeed royal robes!” “I am quite ready,” said the Emperor. He appeared to be examining his handsome suit. The lords of the bedchamber, who were to carry his Majesty’s train felt about on the ground as if they were lifting up the ends of the mantle. Then they pretended to be carrying something for they would by no means want to appear foolish or not fit for their jobs. The Emperor walked under his high canopy in the midst of the procession, through the streets of his capital. All the people standing by, and those at the windows, cried out, “Oh! How beautiful are our Emperor’s new clothes! What a magnificent train there is to the mantle; and how gracefully the scarf hangs!” No one would admit these much admired clothes could not be seen because, in doing so, he would have been saying he was either a simpleton or unfit for his job. “But the Emperor has nothing at all on!” said a little child. “Listen to the voice of the child!” exclaimed his father. 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 upset, for he knew that the people were right. However, he thought the procession must go on now! The lords of the bedchamber took greater pains than ever, to appear holding up a train, although, in reality, there was no train to hold, and the Emperor walked on in his underwear.

Question: Who wrote the children’s story ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’?
Answer: Hans Christian Anderson