Many years ago there lived an Emperor so very fond of fine new clothes that he spent all his money on dressing himself up. He didn't care for his soldiers; he didn't care for the theater or for rides in the forest; he cared only, but only for showing himself off in new clothes. He had a robe for every hour of the day and, just as it is said about a king, that he is 'in council,' it was said of him, 'The Emperor is in the dressing room.'

The big city, where the emperor lived, was a very busy one, and every day many strangers came to it. One day two swindlers arrived. They pretended to be weavers, saying they could weave the most magnificent cloth imaginable. Not only were the colors and patterns exceptionally beautiful, but any clothes made from this material had the magic power of being invisible to anyone unfit for his job, or terribly stupid.

These would be fantastic clothes, thought the Emperor. If I wore them, I would find out who in my kingdom is unfit for his post; I could tell the clever ones from the dim-witted! Oh, yes, that cloth must be woven for me at once! And he paid the two imposters a lot of money in advance, so they could commence their work.

The swindlers set up two looms and pretended to work, but the looms were quite, quite bare. They brazenly asked for the finest silk and the richest gold thread. This they pushed into their own sacks.

I would really like to know how far they've got with that material! thought the Emperor, but a queer feeling gripped his heart at the thought that anyone stupid or unfit for his post wouldn't be able to see the material. Though he was quite convinced that he didn't need to worry about himself the slightest bit, he thought it best to send someone else first to see how it looked. All the people of the town knew of the strange power of the material, and they were all eager to see how unfit or stupid their neighbor was.

I'll send my old honest minister to the weavers, the Emperor decided. He's the best one to judge that cloth, for he has plenty of sense and no one carries out his job better than he!

So the old minister went off to the hall where the two swindlers sat, working away at the empty looms.

Gracious me, thought the old minister, his eyes rolling. I can't see a thing! But aloud he said nothing.

Both the swindlers asked him to step nearer, and inquired how he liked the lovely pattern and the beautiful colors. Then they pointed to the empty looms and the poor old minister opened his eyes wider than ever, but he still couldn't see a thing, for of course there was nothing there.

Goodness me! he thought. Am I unfit for my post? No, it would never do for me to admit I can't see the cloth!

"Well, why don't you say something?" said one of the weavers.

"Oh, it's a wonderful cloth! Truly magnificent!" said the old minister, peering through his spectacles. "Such pattern and such colors! Yes, I'll certainly tell the Emperor how exceptionally nice it is!"

"We're happy to hear that!" said the two weavers and they named the colors and the special pattern. The old minister listened most carefully so he could repeat it all to the Emperor upon his return. And this he did.

The swindlers now asked for more money, more silk and gold thread, saying they needed it for weaving. They put the lot into their pockets; not a single thread reached the looms and they went on weaving as before.

A little later, the Emperor sent another worthy official to see how the weaving was progressing and if the cloth would soon be ready. He fared the same as the minister. He looked and looked, but as there was nothing there but empty looms, he saw nothing.

"Well, don't you think this is a beautiful piece of cloth?" asked both the swindlers, pointing at and explaining the magnificent pattern which of course wasn't there at all.

I'm not stupid! thought the official. Could it be then that I'm unfit for my office? That would be most strange! I mustn't let anyone see! And so he praised the cloth, which he couldn't see at all, assuring them of his pleasure from seeing the lovely colors and the magnificent pattern. "Yes, it is truly exquisite!" he told the Emperor.

The whole town was talking about the magnificent material.

Now the Emperor wished to see it, while it was still on the looms. He left with a whole group of selected men, the two elderly, experienced officials among them, to visit the two crafty weavers who were weaving away for all they were worth without a single thread on the looms.

"Isn't this material truly magnificent?" asked the two worthy officials. "Just look at that pattern, your Highness, and those colors!" And they pointed at the empty looms, for they assumed that the others could see the cloth.

What's this? thought the Emperor. I can't see anything! Oh, this is terrible! Am I stupid? Am I, perhaps, unfit to be an Emperor? That would be the very worst fate which could befall me! - - "Why this material is truly beautiful!" he said aloud. "I give it my official stamp of approval!" And he nodded his head with satisfaction, while he looked at the empty looms. He didn't want to admit he couldn't see a thing.

All his followers looked and looked, with no more result than the rest. All the same, they said, like their Emperor, "Oh, it's truly beautiful!" and advised him to wear clothes made from the magnificent material for the first time in the grand procession which was soon to take place. "It is fantastic, exquisite, magnificent!" were the words that passed from mouth to mouth, and one and all were most delighted with it. The Emperor gave each of the swindlers a knight's cross for his button-hole and the title of Court High Weaver.

Before the morning of the procession the swindlers sat up all night by their looms, with more than sixteen lights burning. People could see for themselves how busy they were to finish the Emperor's new clothes. They pretended to take the cloth off the looms, they snipped the air with their big scissors, they sewed with a needle without thread and, in the end they said, "There, now at last the clothes are ready!"

The Emperor came there in person with his noble gallants. Both the swindlers raised one hand as if holding something, and said, "These are your trousers! Here's your coat! Here's the cloak!" and so on.

"They are as light as gossamer! You would almost think you haven't a stitch on, but that's the very beauty of them!"

How very true! nodded all the gallants, but they saw nothing, for there was nothing to see.

"Your Imperial Highness, be gracious enough to take off your clothes now!" said the swindlers. "We shall dress you in the new ones, over there, please, in front of that large mirror!"

The Emperor took off all his clothes and the weavers pretended to dress him in all the individual garments they were supposed to have made, and they held his waist as if fastening something around it. That was supposed to be the train. And the Emperor turned and twisted before the mirror.

"Oh, how they suit you! What a perfect fit!" everyone cried. "What a pattern! What colors! What exquisite robes!"

"The canopy which is to be carried over your Highness in the procession is waiting outside," the master of ceremonies announced.

"Very well, I am ready," said the Emperor. "They fit me well, don't you think?" And he turned around in front of the mirror just once more, for he wanted everyone to think he was looking at the magnificent robes.

The chamberlains who were to carry the train fumbled about on the floor, pretending to pick up the train. They walked along, their empty hands in the air, not daring to show that they couldn't see a thing.

And thus the Emperor marched in the procession under the beautiful canopy, and all the people in the street and at the windows said, "Oh, how wonderful are the Emperor's new clothes! What a magnificent train he has to his robe! How splendidly they fit!" Nobody wanted to admit that he couldn't see anything, for then he would have been unfit for his post or would have been awfully stupid. Never had the Emperor's clothes been such a success.

"But the Emperor hasn't anything on!" cried a little child.

"Dear God, listen to the voice of the little innocent!" said the father, and it was whispered from man to man what the child had said.

"He hasn't anything on, that's what a little child says, that he hasn't anything on!"

"Why he hasn't a thing on!" all the people shouted at last. And the Emperor went all goose-pimply, for he knew they were right, but he thought, I have to last out till the procession is over. And so he marched on even more proudly, while the chamberlains walked behind him, bearing the train that wasn't there at all.

* allegory - a veiled presentation, esp. in a figurative story or narrative, of a meaning metaphorically implied, but not expressly stated. An allegory is a prolonged metaphor, in which typically a series of actions are symbolic of other actions, while the characters often are types or personifications.

(Webster's New International Dictionary, Second Edition, unabridged; copyright 1959 by G. & C. Merriam Co., p. 68.)

* allegory - a story in which people, things, and happenings have a hidden or symbolic meaning: allegories are used for teaching or explaining ideas, moral principles, etc.

(Webster's Second College Edition: New World Dictionary of the American Language; copyright 1978 by William Collins and World Publishing Co., Inc., p. 36.)