The Emperor's New Clothes

Many years ago there lived an emperor who cared for nothing in the world so much as new clothes. He spent all his money on dressing finely, and he had a different coat for every hour of the day. He did not care about his soldiers or his theater or his carriage rides through the country. His one passion was showing off his magnificent wardrobe.

One day two swindlers arrived at the capital, pretending to be weavers. They declared that they could weave the most magnificent cloth imaginable. Not only were the colors and patterns extraordinarily beautiful, they claimed, but the cloth had a magical property: it was invisible to anyone who was hopelessly stupid or unfit for his position. The emperor thought this was splendid. If he had such a garment, he could discover which of his ministers were unfit for office. He paid the swindlers a handsome sum and told them to begin work at once.

The swindlers set up two looms and pretended to weave, though there was nothing on them at all. They demanded the finest silk and the purest gold thread, which they pocketed, working late into the night by candlelight. The emperor sent his faithful old minister to check on the cloth. The old man stared at the empty loom in horror. He could see nothing at all. Good heavens, he thought, am I stupid? Am I unfit for my position? I must never let anyone know. So he praised the cloth extravagantly, describing the beautiful colors and patterns he could not see. The swindlers beamed and asked if the design pleased him.

The emperor sent another official, then another, and each returned with the same glowing reports. None of them could see a thing, but each was terrified of being thought a fool. At last the emperor himself went to see the cloth, accompanied by a full retinue of courtiers. The swindlers held up the empty fabric and pointed out the marvelous design. The emperor stared, his heart pounding. He could see nothing. Am I a fool? he wondered. Am I unfit to be emperor? He would not admit it. Instead, he exclaimed that the cloth was superb and that he was delighted with the colors and the pattern.

The whole court nodded and murmured their agreement. The swindlers worked all night before the great procession, pretending to cut and stitch the invisible cloth. They helped the emperor dress in his new garments, each one pretending to hand him a piece of clothing. The emperor stood before his mirror and turned this way and that, admiring himself. The lords of the court held up their hands as if carrying a train.

The procession began. The emperor marched through the streets of the city, and the people in the crowd called out how magnificent he looked. No one would admit they could see nothing, for that would mean they were stupid or unfit. But then a little child in the crowd spoke up. 'But he hasn't got anything on!' The people whispered it to each other until the whole crowd was shouting, 'He hasn't got anything on!' The emperor shivered, for he knew they were right. But he held his head higher than ever, and the lords of the court walked on, carrying the train that was not there at all.