By Hans Christian Anderson
Many years ago， there was an Emperor， who was soexcessively fond of new clothes， that he spent all his money indress. He did not trouble himself in the least about his soldiers；nor did he care to go either to the theatre or to the chase，except for the opportunities then afforded him for displayinghis new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of theday； and as of any other king or emperor， one is accustomed tosay， “he is sitting in council，” it was always said of him， “TheEmperor 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 gaveout that they knew how to weave stuffs of the most beautifulcolors and elaborate patterns， the clothes manufactured fromwhich should have the wonderful property of remaininginvisible to everyone who was unfit for the office he held， orwho was extraordinarily simple in character.
“These must， indeed， be splendid clothes！” thought theEmperor. “Had I such a suit， I might at once find out whatmen in my realms are unfit for their office， and also be ableto distinguish the wise from the foolish！ This stuff must bewoven for me immediately.” And he caused large sums ofmoney to be given to both the weavers in order that they mightbegin their work directly.
So the two pretended weavers set up two looms， and affectedto work very busily， though in reality they did nothing atall. They asked for the most delicate silk and the purest goldthread； put both into their own knapsacks； and then continuedtheir pretended work at the empty looms until late at night.
“I should like to know how the weavers are getting on withmy cloth，” said the Emperor to himself， after some little timehad elapsed； he was， however， rather embarrassed， when heremembered that a simpleton， or one unfit for his office， wouldbe unable to see the manufacture. To be sure， he thought hehad nothing to risk in his own person； but yet， he would prefersending somebody else， to bring him intelligence about theweavers， and their work， before he troubled himself in theaffair. All the people throughout the city had heard of thewonderful property the cloth was to possess； and all wereanxious to learn how wise， or how ignorant， their neighborsmight prove to be.
“I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers，” saidthe Emperor at last， after some deliberation， “he will be bestable to see how the cloth looks； for he is a man of sense， andno one can be more suitable for his office than he is.”
So the faithful old minister went into the hall， where theknaves were working with all their might， at their emptylooms. “What can be the meaning of this？” thought the oldman， opening his eyes very wide. “I cannot discover the leastbit of thread on the looms.” However， he did not express histhoughts aloud.
The impostors requested him very courteously to be so goodas to come nearer their looms； and then asked him whetherthe design pleased him， and whether the colors were not verybeautiful； at the same time pointing to the empty frames. Thepoor old minister looked and looked， he could not discoveranything on the looms， for a very good reason， viz： there wasnothing there. “What！” thought he again. “Is it possible that Iam a simpleton？ I have never thought so myself； and no onemust know it now if I am so. Can it be， that I am unfit for myoffice？ No， that must not be said either. I will never confessthat I could not see the stuff.”
“Well， Sir Minister！” said one of the knaves， still pretendingto work. “You do not say whether the stuff pleases you.”
“Oh， it is excellent！” replied the old minister， looking at theloom through his spectacles. “This pattern， and the colors，yes， I will tell the Emperor without delay， how very beautiful Ithink them.”
“We shall be much obliged to you，” said the impostors， andthen they named the different colors and described the patternof the pretended stuff. The old minister listened attentively totheir words， in order that he might repeat them to the Emperor；and then the knaves asked for more silk and gold， saying thatit was necessary to complete what they had begun. However，they put all that was given them into their knapsacks； andcontinued to work with as much apparent diligence as beforeat their empty looms.
The Emperor now sent another officer of his court to seehow the men were getting on， and to ascertain whether thecloth would soon be ready. It was just the same with thisgentleman as with the minister； he surveyed the looms on allsides， but could see nothing at all but the empty frames.
“Does not the stuff appear as beautiful to you， as it did tomy lord the minister？” asked the impostors of the Emperor’ssecond ambassador； at the same time making the same gesturesas before， and talking of the design and colors which were notthere.