The Emperor’s New Clothes 皇帝的新装

[丹麦] 安徒生

Many years ago there was an Emperor who was so fond of clothes that he spent all his money on them. He cared for nothing else, and had a costume for every hour of the day. Instead of saying, as one usually did about an Emperor, ‘oh, he’s in his council chamber,’ the people in his country said, ‘The Emperor is in his dressing room.’

  One day, two swindlers came to the city and said they were weavers, able to make the most beautiful material you could imagine. The colours and the patterns were marvellous, but the cloth was even more wonderful than that. Only intelligent and virtuous people could see it. It was invisible to those who were dull, idle or worthless.

  “That must be splendid stuff,’ thought the Emperor. ‘I’ll be able to tell the wise men from the fools. Yes, I certainly must have some of that.’

  So he paid the swindlers a lot of money, and they began work at once.

  The swindlers bought the finest silk and the purest gold thread, which they locked away in a bag. Then they set up their looms and pretended to weave, passing the shuttles through the empty air far into the night. They seemed to be extremely busy.

The Emperor was very curious to see how they were getting on, but what if he saw nothing? By now, everyone in town knew the magical quality of the cloth, that it was invisible to fools.

  ‘No,’ thought the Emperor, ‘I’ll send my old minister. He’s a wise, loyal servant and he will not be fooled,’

  So the good old minister went and stared at the empty loom. ‘Good lord,’ he thought, ‘I can’t see a thing.’ But he took care not to say so. The swindlers begged him to step a little nearer, to look at this pattern and that colouring. And the poor old man stared as hard as he could, but saw nothing. Because, of course, there was nothing to see.

‘Heavens,’ he thought, ‘is it possible that I’m a fool? Perhaps I am not fit for my position? I must keep this quiet. It will never do to say I can’t see the cloth!’

So the minister told the Emperor that the material was truly wonderful, and the Emperor paid the swindlers yet more money, and the swindlers busily threw the shuttles across the empty looms. The Emperor thought he would take a look himself, and set out with the most important members of his court. The weavers were bent over their looms, working away at a breathless pace. At once, the courtiers stood behind the looms, pointing to the wonders of the design. What style! What imagination! What colours!

‘But this is terrible!’ thought the Emperor. ‘I can see nothing could be worse than that!’

So he quickly said: ‘Yes, it’s beautiful. Nothing could be finer.’ And he nodded with satisfaction at the empty frames.

‘Beautiful! said all the court, gazing hard and seeing nothing. Magnificent! Gorgeous! The word went round, from mouth to mouth, throughout the city, and everyone was delighted. The Emperor gave the swindlers more money, a decoration to wear in their button-holes, and the title of ‘Gentlemen Weavers to His Mafesty’.

Now the Emperor was to wear his new suit of this wonderful cloth in a special procession, and the swindlers stayed up all night, burnin g sixteen candles, to get it ready. With a flourish, they took the invisible stuff from the loon, cut the air with a huge pair of scissors, and stitched away with needles without thread. At last, they cried:

 
‘The Emperor’s new clothes are ready!’

in the morning, the Emperor went to be dressed. The swindlers pretended to hold up the clothes, pointing out all the details. This was the trousers, this the coat, this the cloak, and so on.

‘Everything is as light as a spider’s web,’ they explained. ‘One might think you had nothing on, but that’s the very beauty of it!’ and everyone smiled and agreed.

Slowly, the Emperor took off all his clothes, and the swindlers pretended to give hin one bew piece after another. They pulled and fastened and tucked and smoothed, then they led the Emperor to the mirror and turned him round and round.

‘How well His Mafesty looks in his new clothes,’ cried all the on-lookers of the court.

‘Yes, don’t they fit well?’ said the Emperor. ‘Now I’m quite ready.’

The servants who had to carry the end of the long cloak stooped and pretended to lift it from the ground, and walked solemnly with their hands in the air. The Emperor took his place under the canopy, the courtiers followed behind, and the procession began. The people were crowding the streets and hanging out of the windows.

‘How beautiful the new clothes are,’ they cried. ‘What a design1 what magnificent material! What a wonderful fit!’

But suddenly the voice of a little child sounded from out of the crowed:

‘but he’s got nothing on!’ and the people nearby began to whisper to each other:

‘Did you hear what the child said? He’s got nothing on. The Emperor has nothing on.’

And then the whole crowd was crying out:

‘The Emperor has nothing on!’

The Emperor blushed terribly, for he knew it was true. But the procession must go on. He straightened his back and put on a stern face. His servants held up his invisible cloak, and he walked on naked.