THE EMPEROR’S NEW
CLOTHES
Many years ago, there was an Emperor, who was so
excessively fond of new clothes, that he spent all his
money in dress. He did not trouble himself in the least
about his soldiers; nor did he care to go either to the
theatre or the chase, except for the opportunities then
afforded him for displaying his new clothes. He had a
different suit for each hour of the day; and as of any other
king or emperor, one is accustomed to say, ‘he is sitting in
council,’ it was always said of him, ‘The Emperor is sitting
in his wardrobe.’
Time passed merrily in the large town which was his
capital; strangers arrived every day at the court. One day,
two rogues, calling themselves weavers, made their
appearance. They gave out that they knew how to weave
stuffs of the most beautiful colors and elaborate patterns,
the clothes manufactured from which should have the
wonderful property of remaining invisible to everyone
who was unfit for the office he held, or who was
extraordinarily simple in character.

‘These must, indeed, be splendid clothes!’ thought the
Emperor. ‘Had I such a suit, I might at once find out what
men in my realms are unfit for their office, and also be
able to distinguish the wise from the foolish! This stuff
must be woven for me immediately.’ And he caused large
sums of money to be given to both the weavers in order
that they might begin their work directly.
So the two pretended weavers set up two looms, and
affected to work very busily, though in reality they did
nothing at all. They asked for the most delicate silk and
the purest gold thread; put both into their own knapsacks;
and then continued their pretended 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, after some
little time had elapsed; he was, however, rather
embarrassed, when he remembered that a simpleton, or
one unfit for his office, would be unable to see the
manufacture. To be sure, he thought he had nothing to
risk in his own person; but yet, he would prefer sending
somebody else, to bring him intelligence about the
weavers, and their work, before he troubled himself in the
affair. All the people throughout the city had heard of the
wonderful property the cloth was to possess; and all were
eBook brought to you by anxious to learn how wise, or how ignorant, their
neighbors might prove to be.
‘I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers,’
said the Emperor at last, after some deliberation, ‘he will
be best able to see how the cloth looks; for he is a man of
sense, and no one can be more suitable for his office than
be is.’
So the faithful old minister went into the hall, where
the knaves 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
discover the least bit of thread on the looms.’ However,
he did not express his thoughts aloud.
The impostors requested him very courteously to be so
good as to come nearer their looms; and then asked him
whether the design pleased him, and whether the colors
were not very beautiful; at the same time pointing to the
empty frames. The poor old minister looked and looked,
he could not discover anything on the looms, for a very
good reason, viz: there was nothing there. ‘What!’ thought
he again. ‘Is it possible that I am a simpleton? I have never
thought so myself; and no one must know it now if I am
so. Can it be, that I am unfit for my office? No, that must

not be said either. I will never confess that I could not see
the stuff.’
‘Well, Sir Minister!’ said one of the knaves, still
pretending to work. ‘You do not say whether the stuff
pleases you.’
‘Oh, it is excellent!’ replied the old minister, 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 impostors,
and then they named the different colors and described the
pattern of the pretended stuff. The old minister listened
attentively to their words, in order that he might repeat
them to the Emperor; and then the knaves asked for more
silk and gold, saying that it was necessary to complete
what they had begun. However, they put all that was
given them into their knapsacks; and continued to work
with as much apparent diligence as before at their empty
looms.
The Emperor now sent another officer of his court to
see how the men were getting on, and to ascertain
whether the cloth would soon be ready. It was just the
same with this gentleman as with the minister; he surveyed

the looms on all sides, but 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 minister?’ asked the impostors of the
Emperor’s second ambassador; at the same time making
the same gestures as before, and talking of the design and
colors which were not there.
‘I certainly am not stupid!’ thought the messenger. ‘It
must be, that I am not fit for my good, profitable office!
That is very odd; however, no one shall know anything
about it.’ And accordingly he praised the stuff he could
not see, and declared that he was delighted with both
colors and patterns. ‘Indeed, please your Imperial Majesty,’
said he to his sovereign 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 at his own
expense.
And now the Emperor himself wished to see the costly
manufacture, while it was still in the loom. Accompanied
by a select number of officers of the court, among whom
were the two honest men who had already admired the
cloth, he went to the crafty impostors, who, as soon as

they were aware of the Emperor’s approach, went on
working more diligently than ever; although they still did
not pass a single 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. ‘It has my complete approbation.’ And he
smiled most graciously, and looked closely at the empty
looms; for on no account would he say that he could not
see what two of the officers of his court had praised so
much. All his retinue now strained their 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
approaching procession. ‘Magnificent! Charming!
Excellent!’ resounded on all sides; and everyone was

uncommonly gay. The Emperor shared in the general
satisfaction; and presented the impostors with the riband of
an order of knighthood, to be worn in their button-holes,
and the title of ‘Gentlemen Weavers.’
The rogues sat up the whole of the night before the
day on which the procession was to take place, and 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; 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!’
And now the Emperor, with all the grandees of his
court, came to the weavers; and the rogues raised their
arms, as if in the act of holding something up, saying,
‘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;
that, however, is the great virtue of this delicate cloth.’
‘Yes indeed!’ said all the courtiers, although not one of
them could see anything of this exquisite manufacture.
‘If your Imperial Majesty will be graciously pleased to
take off your clothes, we will fit on the new suit, in front
of the looking glass.’

The Emperor was accordingly undressed, and the
rogues pretended to array him in his new suit; the
Emperor turning round, 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!’
‘The canopy which is to be borne over your Majesty,
in the procession, is waiting,’ announced the chief master
of the ceremonies.
‘I am quite ready,’ answered the Emperor. ‘Do my new
clothes fit well?’ asked he, turning himself round again
before the looking glass, in order that he might appear 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; and pretended to be
carrying something; for they would by no means betray
anything like simplicity, or unfitness for their office.
So now the Emperor walked under his high canopy in
the midst of the procession, through the streets of his
capital; and 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!’ in
short, no one would allow that he could not see these
much-admired clothes; because, in doing so, he would
have declared himself either a simpleton or unfit for his
office. Certainly, none of the Emperor’s various suits, had
ever made so great an impression, as these invisible ones.
‘But the Emperor has nothing at all on!’ said a little
child.
‘Listen to the voice of innocence!’ exclaimed his father;
and 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 vexed, for he knew that the
people were right; but he thought the procession must go
on now! And 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.