🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 The Emperor’s New Clothes, by Hans Christian Andersen

Many years ago, there lived an emperor who loved beautiful new clothes so much that he spent all his money just to be dressed up. He cared nothing for his soldiers, cared nothing for the theater, or for riding in the forest, except to show off his new clothes. He had a dress for every hour of the day, and just as one says of a king, “He is in council,” so here they always said, “The Emperor is in the dressing room!” —

In the big city where he lived, life was very pleasant; every day many strangers arrived, and one day two swindlers came; they pretended to be weavers and said they knew how to weave the most beautiful cloth one could imagine. Not only were the colors and patterns exceptionally beautiful, but the garments sewn from the fabric had the wondrous property of becoming invisible to anyone who was unfit for his office or was also unacceptably stupid.

“Those were indeed some lovely garments,” thought the Emperor; “by wearing them, I could find out which men in my kingdom are unfit for the office they hold; I can tell the wise from the foolish! Yes, that fabric must be woven for me at once!” and he handed the two swindlers a great deal of money so that they might begin their work.

They also set up two looms, pretended to be working, but they had not the slightest thing on the loom. They quickly demanded the finest silk and the most magnificent gold; they put it in their own pockets and worked with the empty looms, and that until late into the night.

“Now I’d really like to know how far along they are with the clothes!” thought the Emperor, but he felt a bit uneasy at the thought that someone who was foolish or simply unfit for his office might not be able to see it. He believed he had nothing to fear for himself, but he still wanted to send someone first to see how things stood. Everyone in the whole city knew what a wondrous power the clothes possessed, and everyone was eager to see just how foolish or stupid his neighbor was.

“I will send my old, honest minister to the weavers!” thought the emperor, “he is best suited to see what the clothes look like, for he has sense, and no one fulfills his duties better than he!” —

Now the old, respectable minister entered the hall where the two swindlers sat working at the empty looms. “Good heavens!” thought the old Minister, widening his eyes! “I can’t see a thing!” But he didn’t say that.

Both swindlers asked him to step closer and remarked on the beautiful pattern and lovely colors. Then they pointed to the empty loom, and the poor old minister kept widening his eyes, but he could see nothing, for there was nothing there. “Good heavens!” he thought, “am I that foolish? I never thought so, and no one must know! Am I unfit for my office? No, I cannot very well say that I cannot see the fabric!”

“Well, you’re not saying anything about it!” said the one who was weaving!

“Oh, it’s lovely! Absolutely delightful!” said the old minister, peering through his glasses, “this pattern and these colors! — yes, I shall tell the Emperor that it pleases me greatly!”

“Well, that pleases us!” said both weavers, and now they named the colors and described the strange pattern. The old minister listened carefully so that he could say the same thing when he returned to the Emperor, and that is what he did.

Now the swindlers demanded more money, more silk and gold; they claimed they needed it for weaving. They stuffed everything into their own pockets; not a single thread went onto the loom, yet they continued, as before, to weave on the empty loom.

The Emperor soon sent another trustworthy official to see how the weaving was going and whether the cloth was nearly finished. It happened to him just as it had to the other; he looked and looked, but since there was nothing but the empty looms, he could see nothing.

“Yes, isn’t it a beautiful piece of cloth!” said both swindlers, pointing out and describing the lovely pattern that wasn’t there at all.

“I’m not a fool!” thought the man, “so it’s my good office that I’m not fit for? That’s ridiculous enough! But I mustn’t let on!” And so he praised the clothes he couldn’t see and assured them of his delight at the beautiful colors and the lovely pattern. “Yes, it is absolutely lovely!” he said to the Emperor.

Everyone in the city was talking about the magnificent fabric.

Now the Emperor himself wanted to see it, while it was still on the loom. With a whole crowd of distinguished men, among whom were the two old, respectable officials who had been there before, he went over to the two cunning swindlers, who were now weaving with all their might, but without a single thread or strand.

“Isn’t it magnificent!” said both of the respectable officials. “Will Your Majesty look at the pattern, the colors!” And then they pointed to the empty loom, for they thought the others could surely see the cloth.

“What on earth!” thought the Emperor, “I can’t see a thing! This is terrible! Am I stupid? Am I unfit to be Emperor? This is the most dreadful thing that could ever happen to me! “Oh, it is very beautiful!” said the Emperor, “it has my highest approval!” and he nodded contentedly and gazed at the empty fabric; he did not want to say that he could see nothing. The entire entourage he had brought with him looked and looked, but could make out no more than everyone else; yet they said, just like the Emperor, “Oh, it is very beautiful!” and they advised him to wear these new, magnificent clothes for the first time at the grand procession that was to come. “ “It is magnificent! Delightful, excellent!” went the word from mouth to mouth, and everyone was so thoroughly pleased with it. The Emperor gave each of the swindlers a Knight’s Cross to hang in their buttonhole and the title of Weavers’ Squires.

All night before the morning the procession was to take place, the swindlers sat up and had over sixteen candles lit. People could see they were busy finishing the Emperor’s new clothes. As they took the fabric off the loom, they cut at the air with large scissors, sewed with a needle without thread, and finally said, “Look, now the clothes are finished!”

The Emperor, accompanied by his most distinguished courtiers, came there himself, and both swindlers raised one arm in the air as if holding something and said: “Look, here are the trousers! Here is the coat! Here is the cloak!” and so on. “It is as light as a spider’s web! One would think one had nothing on one’s body, but that is precisely the virtue of it!”

“Yes!” said all the courtiers, but they could see nothing, for there was nothing there.

“Will Your Imperial Majesty now be so kind as to take off your clothes!” said the swindlers, “then we shall put the new ones on you, right here in front of the large mirror!”

The Emperor took off all his clothes, and the swindlers went about their business, as if they were giving him each piece of the new suit that was supposed to have been sewn, and the Emperor turned and twisted in front of the mirror.

“My, how well they fit! How beautifully they sit!” they all said. “What a pattern! What colors! It is a costly garment!” —

“Outside, the canopy is waiting, to be carried over Your Majesty in the procession!” said the Master of Ceremonies.

“Yes, I am ready!” said the Emperor. “Doesn’t it fit well?” And then he turned once more before the mirror! For now he had to make it look as though he were really examining his attire.

The chamberlains, who were to carry the train, fumbled with their hands along the floor, as if they were picking up the train; they walked and held it in the air; they dared not let it be known that they could see nothing.

So the Emperor walked in the procession beneath the magnificent canopy, and all the people in the streets and at the windows said: “My goodness, how magnificent the Emperor’s new clothes are! What a splendid train he has on his robe! How beautifully it fits!” No one wanted to admit that they saw nothing, for then they would have failed in their duty, or been very foolish. None of the Emperor’s clothes had ever caused such a sensation.

“But he isn’t wearing anything,” said a little child. “Good heavens, hear the voice of the innocent,” said the father; and one whispered to the other what the child had said.

“But he isn’t wearing anything,” the whole crowd finally shouted. The Emperor felt a pang of guilt, for he thought they were right, but he thought to himself, “Now I must see the procession through.” And the chamberlains walked along, carrying the train that wasn’t there at all.

 

🇩🇰 Keiserens nye Klæder, af Hans Christian Andersen

For mange Aar siden levede en Keiser, som holdt saa uhyre meget af smukke nye Klæder, at han gav alle sine Penge ud for ret at blive pyntet. Han brød sig ikke om sine Soldater, brød sig ei om Comedie eller om at kjøre i Skoven, uden alene for at vise sine nye Klæder. Han havde en Kjole for hver Time paa Dagen, og ligesom man siger om en Konge, han er i Raadet, saa sagde man altid her: “Keiseren er i Garderoben!” —

I den store Stad, hvor han boede, gik det meget fornøieligt til, hver Dag kom der mange Fremmede, een Dag kom der to Bedragere; de gave sig ud for at være Vævere og sagde, at de forstode at væve det deiligste Tøi, man kunde tænke sig. Ikke alene Farverne og Mønstret var noget usædvanligt smukt, men de Klæder, som bleve syede af Tøiet, havde den forunderlige Egenskab at de bleve usynlige for ethvert Menneske, som ikke duede i sit Embede, eller ogsaa var utilladelig dum.

“Det var jo nogle deilige Klæder,” tænkte Keiseren; “ved at have dem paa, kunde jeg komme efter, hvilke Mænd i mit Rige der ikke due til det Embede de have, jeg kan kjende de kloge fra de dumme! ja det Tøi maa strax væves til mig!” og han gav de to Bedragere mange Penge paa Haanden, for at de skulde begynde paa deres Arbeide.

De satte ogsaa to Væverstole op, lode som om de arbeidede, men de havde ikke det mindste paa Væven. Rask væk forlangte de den fineste Silke, og det prægtigste Guld; det puttede de i deres egen Pose og arbeidede med de tomme Væve, og det til langt ud paa Natten.

“Nu gad jeg dog nok vide, hvor vidt de ere med Tøiet!” tænkte Keiseren, men han var ordenligt lidt underlig om Hjertet ved at tænke paa, at den, som var dum, eller slet passede til sit Embede, ikke kunde see det, nu troede han nok, at han ikke behøvede at være bange for sig selv, men han vilde dog sende nogen først for at see, hvorledes det stod sig. Alle Mennesker i hele Byen vidste, hvilken forunderlig Kraft Tøiet havde, og alle vare begjærlige efter at see, hvor daarlig eller dum hans Naboe var.

“Jeg vil sende min gamle ærlige Minister hen til Væverne!” tænkte Keiseren, “han kan bedst see, hvorledes Tøiet tager sig ud, for han har Forstand, og ingen passer sit Embede bedre end han!” —

Nu gik den gamle skikkelige Minister ind i Salen, hvor de to Bedragere sad og arbeidede med de tomme Væve. “Gud bevar’ os!” tænkte den gamle Minister og spilede Øinene op! “jeg kan jo ikke se noget!” Men det sagde han ikke.

Begge Bedragerne bad ham være saa god at træde nærmere og spurgte, om det ikke var et smukt Mønster og deilige Farver. Saa pegede de paa den tomme Væv, og den stakkels gamle Minister blev ved at spile Øinene op, men han kunde ikke see noget, for der var ingen Ting. “Herre Gud!” tænkte han, “skulde jeg være dum! Det har jeg aldrig troet, og det maa ingen Mennesker vide! skulde jeg ikke due til mit Embede? Nei det gaaer ikke an, at jeg fortæller, jeg ikke kan see Tøiet!”

“Naa, de siger ikke noget om det!” sagde den ene, som vævede!

“O det er nydeligt! ganske allerkjæreste!” sagde den gamle Minister og saae igjennem sine Briller, “dette Mønster og disse Farver! — ja, jeg skal sige Keiseren, at det behager mig særdeles!”

“Naa det fornøier os!” sagde begge Væverne, og nu nævnede de Farverne ved Navn og det sælsomme Mønster. Den gamle Minister hørte godt efter, for at han kunde sige det samme, naar han kom hjem til Keiseren, og det gjorde han.

Nu forlangte Bedragerne flere Penge, mere Silke og Guld, det skulde de bruge til Vævning. De stak Alt i deres egne Lommer, paa Væven kom ikke en Trevl, men de bleve ved, som før, at væve paa den tomme Væv.

Keiseren sendte snart igjen en anden skikkelig Embedsmand hen for at see, hvorledes det gik med Vævningen, og om Tøiet snart var færdigt. Det gik ham ligesom den anden, han saae og saae, men da der ikke var noget uden de tomme Væve, kunde han ingen Ting see.

“Ja, er det ikke et smukt Stykke Tøi!” sagde begge Bedragerne og viste og forklarede det deilige Mønster, som der slet ikke var.

“Dum er jeg ikke!” tænkte Manden, “det er altsaa mit gode Embede, jeg ikke duer til? Det var løierligt nok! men det maa man ikke lade sig mærke med!” og saa roste han Tøiet, han ikke saae, og forsikkrede dem sin Glæde over de skjønne Couleurer og det deilige Mønster. “Ja det er ganske allerkjæreste!” sagde han til Keiseren.

Alle Mennesker i Byen talte om det prægtige Tøi.

Nu vilde da Keiseren selv see det, medens det endnu var paa Væven. Med en heel Skare af udsøgte Mænd, mellem hvilke de to gamle skikkelige Embedsmænd vare, som før havde været der, gik han hen til begge de listige Bedragere, der nu vævede af alle Kræfter, men uden Trevl eller Traad.

“Ja er det ikke magnifique!” sagde begge de skikkelige Embedsmænd. “Vil deres Majestæt see, hvilket Mønster, hvilke Farver!” og saa pegede de paa den tomme Væv, thi de troede, de andre vistnok kunde see Tøiet.

“Hvad for noget!” tænkte Keiseren, “jeg seer ingen Ting! det er jo forfærdeligt! er jeg dum? duer jeg ikke til at være Keiser? Det var det skrækkeligste, som kunde arrivere mig! “O det er meget smukt!” sagde Keiseren, “det har mit allerhøieste Bifald!” og han nikkede tilfreds og betragtede den tomme Væv; han vilde ikke sige, at han ingen Ting kunde see. Hele Følget, han havde med sig, saae og saae, men fik ikke mere ud af det, end alle de Andre, men de sagde ligesom Keiseren, “o det er meget smukt!” og de raadede ham at tage disse nye, prægtige Klæder paa første Gang, ved den store Procession, som forestod. “Det er magnifique! nysseligt, excellent!” gik det fra Mund til Mund, og man var allesammen saa inderligt fornøiede dermed. Keiseren gav hver af Bedragerne et Ridderkors til at hænge i Knaphullet og Titel af Vævejunkere.

Hele Natten før den Formiddag Processionen skulde være, sad Bedragerne oppe og havde over sexten Lys tændte. Folk kunde see, de havde travlt med at faae Keiserens nye Klæder færdige. De lode, som de toge Tøiet af Væven, de klippede i Luften med store Saxe, de syede med Syenaal uden Traad og sagde tilsidst: “see nu er Klæderne færdige!”

Keiseren, med sine fornemste Cavalerer, kom selv derhen og begge Bedragerne løftede den ene Arm i Veiret ligesom om de holdt noget og sagde: “see her er Beenklæderne! her er Kjolen! her Kappen!” og saaledes videre fort. “Det er saa let, som Spindelvæv! man skulde troe man havde ingen Ting paa Kroppen, men det er just Dyden ved det!”

“Ja!” sagde alle Cavalererne, men de kunde ingen Ting see, for der var ikke noget.

“Vil nu deres keiserlige Majestæt allernaadigst behage at tage deres Klæder af!” sagde Bedragerne, “saa skal vi give dem de nye paa, herhenne foran det store Speil!”

Keiseren lagde alle sine Klæder, og Bedragerne bare sig ad, ligesom om de gave ham hvert Stykke af de nye, der skulde være syede, og Keiseren vendte og dreiede sig for Speilet.

“Gud hvor de klæde godt! hvor de sidde deiligt!” sagde de allesammen. “Hvilket Mønster! hvilke Farver! det er en kostbar Dragt!” —

“Uden for staae de med Thronhimlen, som skal bæres over deres Majestæt i Processionen!” sagde Overceremonimesteren.

“Ja jeg er jo istand!” sagde Keiseren. “Sidder det ikke godt?” og saa vendte han sig nok engang for Speilet! for det skulde nu lade ligesom om han ret betragtede sin Stads.

Kammerherrerne, som skulde bære Slæbet, famlede med Hænderne hen ad Gulvet, ligesom om de toge Slæbet op, de gik og holdt i Luften, de turde ikke lade sig mærke med, at de ingenting kunde see.

Saa gik Keiseren i Processionen under den deilige Thronhimmel og alle Mennesker paa Gaden og i Vinduerne sagde: “Gud hvor Keiserens nye Klæder ere mageløse! hvilket deiligt Slæb han har paa Kjolen! hvor den sidder velsignet!” Ingen vilde lade sig mærke med, at han intet saae, for saa havde han jo ikke duet i sit Embede, eller været meget dum. Ingen af Keiserens Klæder havde gjort saadan Lykke.

“Men han har jo ikke noget paa,” sagde et lille Barn. “Herre Gud, hør den Uskyldiges Røst,” sagde Faderen; og den Ene hvidskede til den Anden, hvad Barnet sagde.

“Men han har jo ikke noget paa,” raabte tilsidst hele Folket. Det krøb i Keiseren, thi han syntes, de havde Ret, men han tænkte som saa: “nu maa jeg holde Processionen ud”. Og Kammerherrerne gik og bar paa Slæbet, som der slet ikke var.

The Bald Parrot, by Horacio Quiroga 🦜

Autumn, A Love Season, by Horacio Quiroga

The Stockings of the Flamingos, by Horacio Quiroga 🧦🦩🦎

The Lazy Bee, by Horacio Quiroga

Story of two coati puppies and two human puppies, by Horacio Quiroga

You can follow me also on my other social media channels:

• WordPress
• Instagram
• Twitter account
• Facebook
• Goodreads author’s page
• Amazon’s author page

and subscribe to email updates from this blog: