Story 75: The Emperor's New Clothes Hans Christian Anderson

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The Emperor's New Clothes

In a country far away there was once an emperor who loved nothing better than new clothes. All his money was spent on shirts and doublets and pants and cloaks. He never drove in the woods or went to the theater or reviewed the troops in the army unless it was to show off some new costume. The emperor had clothes for every hour of the day and evening, and whenever his ministers wanted to find him, they had only to look in his dressing room.
Life was very gay (happy––Lumna10) in the great town where he lived. The streets were thronged with strangers, and one day two swindlers were among them. They made themselves out to be weavers and said they could weave cloth more beautiful than any on earth.
Not only were the colors and patterns superb, but the garments that were made from the cloth had the amazing quality of becoming invisible to all who were dull and incompetent. Or so the swindlers claimed.
"Those must be wonderful clothes," thought the emperor when he heard the story. "By wearing them I shall be able to tell wise men from fools and learn who among my people deserves my trust. Yes, I must have some of that cloth woven for me at once." And he gave the two swindlers large sums of money so they could begin work.
Quickly they set up two looms and pretended to weave, yet the shuttles were as empty as air. They demanded the fines silk and the purest gold thread, then they packed it away in their bags and worked upon the empty looms far into the night.
After a time the emperor was eager to discover how the weavers were getting on with the cloth. But remembering that anyone who was a fool would not be able to see it, he became reluctant to go into the room himself. "Of course I have no fears about my own competence," he thought. "But still it may be best to send some other man. My oldest minister is the one for the task. He is clever and will be able to judge the quality of the cloth at once."
And so the old minister went to find the weavers. There they sat before their empty looms, working the invisible thread as though it were real. "How can this be?" thought the man, opening his eyes very wide. "
"I see nothing, nothing at all."
The swindlers stood up then and asked him how he liked the unusual design and the beautiful colors. They pointed to the empty looms and the minister stared as hard as he could, but he could see nothing, for there was nothing. "Could it mean that I am stupid?" he thought fearfully. "I have never thought so, but who can be certain? Nobody must be allowed to know that I cannot see the cloth."
"Well, what do you think of it?" asked one of the weavers.
"Oh, it is beautiful. Most exquisite. I shall certainly tell the emperor how pleased I am," said the minister.
Then the weavers drew him closer to the empty looms.
They named the different colors and described the pattern, and the minister listened closely so that he could repeat it all to the emperor.
Now the weavers demanded more money and more silk for their work, but again they put it into their own pockets and went on weaving at the empty looms.

A short time later the emperor sent another minister to learn how the cloth was getting on and if it would soon be ready. The man looked and looked but he could see only the empty looms.
He blinked once and then again and still he saw nothing. "I know I am not a fool," he thought. "So it must mean I am unfit for my position. I must never let on that I cannot see the cloth." And he went back to the emperor and praised the beautiful colors and the design he had never seen. Soon everyone in the town was talking about the splendid cloth.
At last the emperor could wait no longer and decided to see it for himself. Accompanied by a large number of servants and his two faithful ministers, he went into the room where the weavers were working. They moved their hands fast across the looms, yet there was not a strand of silk upon them.
"Is the cloth not magnificent, Your Majesty?" asked the two ministers. "Surely you will agree with all our praise of it." And they pointed to the empty looms, for each thought the others could see the cloth.
The emperor was struck with horror. "What!" he thought.
"I see nothing! This is terrible. Am I a fool? Am I unfit to be emperor?" But knowing that the others were awaiting his re-sponse, he nodded and smiled and clapped his hands together.
"Perfectly wonderful! Superb!" he said, gazing at the empty loom.
"Perfectly wonderful! Superb!" the servants echoed, though they saw no more than the others.
The very next day there was to be a great procession, and everyone agreed that the emperor must lead it dressed in garments sewn from the wonderful cloth. Then the emperor gave each of the weavers a decoration for his buttonhole and the title of Knight of the Loom.
The night before the procession the weavers sat up until dawn, burning sixteen candles so that people would see how hard they were working to get the emperor's new clothes ready.
They pretended to take the cloth off the loom. Then they cut it out in the air with a huge pair of shears and stitched it together using needles without any thread. "Now the emperor's new clothes are ready," they announced.
When the emperor went into the room with his ministers and servants, both of the weavers raised one arm in the air as if they were holding something very precious. "These are the pants; this is the coat; here is the mantle," they said. "As you can see, the cloth is as light and delicate as a spider's web. One might almost think one had nothing on, but that is the very beauty of it. "
"Yes, oh yes!" everyone cried, staring harder than ever at nothing.
"Please, Your Majesty, you must take off your clothes so we may put the new ones on here before the mirror," the weavers said.
"Of course. Quite so," said the emperor and he took off all his clothes. Then the weavers pretended to fasten something around his waist and tie something else around his neck, and finally they ran their hands along the floor as if they were arranging the train.
Everyone praised the emperor's appearance even though he was wearing nothing. "How well His Majesty looks in the new clothes!" they said. "What a beautiful coat and mantle!"
The canopy that will be held over Your Majesty is here.
The procession is about to begin!" the oldest minister cried.
The emperor turned round and round in front of the mirror as if admiring his reflection. "Very well, I am ready," he an-nounced. He walked with dignity from the weavers' room, and the chamberlains who were to carry the train pretended to lift it from the ground and hold it with their hands in the air.
Then the emperor walked at the head of the procession under the beautiful canopy, and everyone in the streets cried,
"Look at the emperor's new clothes.
wonderful he has ever worm?" They did not dare admit they could see nothing for fear they would be called fools. Never before had the emperor's clothes been so much admired.
"But he has got nothing on," said a little child.
"Oh, listen to the innocent," said the father. And one person whispered to another what the child had said. "He has nothing on. A child says he has nothing on!"
"But he has nothing on!" all the people cried at last.
The emperor felt a shudder go through him, for he knew at once that it was true, but he had to continue to lead the procession. And so he walked on beneath the canopy, and the chamberlains held up the invisible train.

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