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_The Emperor's New Clothes_ was written by Hans Christian
Andersen (1805-1875), and was translated from the Danish by
M. R. James (1862-1936) as part of his _Hans Andersen Forty-Two
Stories_ (1930).

Title: Hans Andersen Forty-Two Stories -- The Emperor's
   New Clothes
Author: Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875)
Translator: M. R. James (1862-1936)
Date of first publication: 1930
Place and date of edition used as base for this ebook:
   London: Faber and Faber, 1953
Date first posted: 16 March 2008
Date last updated: 16 March 2008
Project Gutenberg Canada ebook #97

This ebook was produced by: Dr Mark Bear Akrigg




The Emperor's New Clothes

by

Hans Christian Andersen

(from _Hans Andersen Forty-Two Stories_ [1930]),
translated by M. R. James)




Many years ago there lived an Emperor who was so monstrous
fond of fine new clothes that he spent all his money on
being really smart. He didn't care about his army, he didn't
care for going to the play, or driving out in the park,
unless it was to show his new clothes. He had a coat for
every hour in the day; and just as people say about a king,
that "he's holding a council", so in this country they
always said, "The Emperor is in his dressing room". In the
great city where he lived, life was very pleasant, lots of
strangers came there every day; and one day there arrived
two swindlers. They gave out that they were weavers, and
said they knew how to make the loveliest stuff that could
possibly be imagined. Not only were the colours and patterns
extraordinarily pretty, but the clothes that were made of
the stuff had this marvellous property: that they were
invisible to anyone who was either unfit for his situation
or else was intolerably stupid. "Very excellent clothes
those must be," thought the Emperor; "if I wore them I could
tell which are the men in my realm who aren't fit for the
posts they hold. I could tell clever people from stupid
ones: to be sure that stuff must be made for me directly."
Accordingly he gave the two swindlers a large sum in
advance, so that they might begin their work. They set up
two looms and pretended to be working, but they hadn't a
vestige of anything on the looms. In hot haste they demanded
the finest of silk and the best of gold, which they stuffed
into their own pockets; and they worked away at the bare
looms till any hour of the night.

"I __should____ like to know how they are getting on with the
stuff," thought the Emperor. But to tell the truth he had a
little misgiving when he reflected that anyone who was
stupid or unsuited to his post couldn't see the stuff. Of
course, he was confident that he needn't be afraid for
himself: all the same he decided to send someone else first
to see how things were. Everybody in the whole city knew
what a marvellous power was in the stuff, and everybody was
agog to see how incompetent and how stupid his neighbour
was.

"I'll send my good old minister down to the weavers,"
thought the Emperor; "he can quite well see how the stuff is
shaping: he's an intelligent man, and no one is better
fitted for his post than he."

So the worthy old minister went into the hall where the two
swindlers were sitting working at the bare loom. "Heaven
help us," thought the old minister, staring with all his
eyes; "I can't see a thing"; but he didn't say so.

Both the swindlers begged him to be pleased to step nearer,
and asked if here was not a pretty pattern, and beautiful
colours; and they pointed to the bare looms, and the poor
old minister kept staring at it, but he couldn't see
anything, because there was nothing to be seen. "Gracious
goodness!" thought he; "can I be stupid? I never thought so,
and nobody must get to know it. Can I be unfit for my
office? No, no! It won't do for me to say I can't see the
stuff." "Well, have you nothing to say about it?" said the
one who was weaving.

"Oh, it's charming! Most delightful!" said the old minister,
looking through his spectacles. "The pattern! The colour!
Yes, indeed, I must tell the Emperor I am infinitely pleased
with it."

"We are glad indeed to hear it," said both the weavers, and
proceeded to describe the colours, naming them, and the
uncommon pattern. The old minister listened carefully so as
to be able to repeat it when he went back to the Emperor;
and so he did. The swindlers now demanded more money and
more silk and gold to be used in the weaving. They pocketed
it all; not a thread was put up, but they went on, as
before, weaving at the bare loom.

Very soon, the Emperor sent another honest official over to
see how the weaving progressed and whether the stuff would
be ready soon. He fared just like the minister. He looked
and looked, but as there was nothing there but the empty
loom, nothing could be seen.

"Well, isn't that a fine piece of stuff?" said both the
swindlers, exhibiting and explaining the lovely patterns
that weren't there at all. "Stupid, I am not," thought the
man; "it must be my nice post that I'm not fit for? That
would be a good joke! But I mustn't let people notice
anything." Whereupon he praised the stuff which he couldn't
see, and assured them of his pleasure in the pretty colours
and the exquisite pattern. "Yes, it is positively sweet," he
told the Emperor. Everybody in the city was talking of the
splendid stuff.

At last the Emperor decided to see it, while it was still on
the loom, with a large suite of select people--among them
the two worthy officials who had been there before. He went
over to the two clever swindlers, who were now weaving with
all their might; only without a vestige of a thread.

"Now, is not that magnificent?" said both the worthy
officials "Will Your Majesty deign to note the beauty of the
pattern and the colours"; and they pointed to the bare loom,
for they supposed that all the rest could certainly see the
stuff. "What's the meaning of this?" thought the Emperor. "I
can't see a thing! This is terrible! Am I stupid? Am I not
fit to be Emperor? That would be the most frightful thing
that could befall me. Oh, it's very pretty, it has my
all-highest approval!" said he, nodding complacently and
gazing on the empty loom: of course, he wouldn't say he
could see nothing. The whole of the suite he had with him
looked and looked, but got no more out of that than the
rest. However, they said, as the Emperor had said: "Oh, it's
very pretty!" And they advised him to put on this splendid
new stuff for the first time, on the occasion of a great
procession which was to take place shortly. "Magnificent!
Exquisite! Excellent!" went from mouth to mouth; the whole
company was in the highest state of gratification. The
Emperor gave each of the swindlers a knight's cross to hang
in his buttonhole and the title of "Gentleman in Weaving".

The whole night, previous to the morning on which the
procession was to take place, the swindlers sat up, and had
upwards of sixteen candles lit; people could see they were
hard put to it to get the Emperor's new clothes finished.
They pretended to be taking the stuff off the loom; they
clipped with scissors in the air, they sewed with a needle
without thread--and finally they said: "Look now! The
clothes are finished." The Emperor with the noblest of his
personal attendants came thither himself. Each of the
swindlers raised an arm in the air as if holding something
up, and said: "See, here are the hose, this is the coat,
this is the mantle, and so on. It is as light as a spider's
web, you would think you had nothing whatever on; but that
is, of course, the beauty of it." "Yes," said all the
attendants; but they couldn't see anything, for there was
nothing to be seen.

"Will Your Imperial Majesty be graciously pleased to take
off your clothes?" said the swindlers. "We can then put the
new ones upon you here, before the large mirror." The
Emperor took off all his clothes, and the swindlers behaved
as if they were handing him each piece of the new suit which
was supposed to have been made; and they put their hands
about his waist and pretended to tie some thing securely. It
was the train. The Emperor turned and twisted himself in
front of the glass.

"Heaven! How well it fits? How beautifully it sets," said
everyone. "The pattern! The colours! It is indeed a noble
costume!"

"They are waiting, outside, with the canopy which is to be
borne over Your Majesty in the procession," said the chief
master of the ceremonies. "Very well, I am ready," said the
Emperor; "doesn't it set well?" Once more he turned about in
front of the glass that it might seem as if he was really
examining his finery. The lords in waiting, who were to
carry the train, fumbled with their hands in the direction
of the floor as if they were picking the train up. They
walked on, holding the air--they didn't want to let it be
noticed that they could see nothing at all.

So the Emperor walked in the procession under the beautiful
canopy, and everybody in the streets and at the windows
said: "Lord! How splendid the Emperor's new clothes are.
What a lovely train he has to his coat! What a beautiful fit
it is!" Nobody wanted to be detected seeing nothing: that
would mean that he was no good at his job, or that he was
very stupid. None of the Emperor's costumes had ever been
such a success.

"But he hasn't got anything on!" said a little child. "Lor!
Just hark at the innocent," said its father. And one
whispered to the other what the child had said: "That little
child there says he hasn't got anything on."

"Why, he hasn't got anything on!" the whole crowd was
shouting at last; and the Emperor's flesh crept, for it
seemed to him they were right. "But all the same," he
thought to himself, "I must go through with the procession."
So he held himself more proudly than before, and the lords
in waiting walked on bearing the train--the train that
wasn't there at all.




Transcriber's note:

The edition used as base for this book contained the
following error involving interchanged lines, 
which has been corrected:

Page 106:

all-highest approval!" said he, nodding complacently and gazing
The whole of the suite he had with him looked and looked, but got
on the empty loom: of course, he wouldn't say he could see nothing.
no more out of that than the rest. However, they said, as the Emperor

=>

all-highest approval!" said he, nodding complacently and gazing
on the empty loom: of course, he wouldn't say he could see nothing.
The whole of the suite he had with him looked and looked, but got
no more out of that than the rest. However, they said, as the Emperor


[End of _The Emperor's New Clothes_ by Hans Christian Andersen,
from _Hans Andersen Forty-Two Stories_, translated by
M. R. James]