The Emperor's New Clothes: A Classic Fairy Tale Picture Book Collection

Author: Hans Christian Andersen
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-01-01
Features: Hans Christian Andersen was actually such a writer who skillfully told adults stories wearing the mask of children, while using fairy tales to tell children about experiences that were entirely from the adult world. Hans Christian Andersen is worth reading throughout our lives; the great writer Leo Tolstoy spent ten years reading his works; Hans Christian Andersen is worth the generations to savor and experience, as the essayist Zhang Xiaofeng said: If someone is five years old and has never listened to Hans Christian Andersen, then their childhood lacks a touch of warmth; if someone is fifteen years old and has never read Hans Christian Andersen, then their youth lacks a sparkle of silver; if someone is twenty-five years old and has never savored Hans Christian Andersen, then their young adulthood lacks a hue of brilliance; if someone is thirty-five years old and has never understood Hans Christian Andersen, then their prime lacks a sense of abundance; if someone is forty-five years old and has never contemplated Hans Christian Andersen, then their middle age lacks a touch of melancholy; if someone is fifty-five years old and has never reread Hans Christian Andersen, then their old age lacks a sense of depth. Now, the "Illustrated Collection of Hans Christian Andersen's Fairy Tales (13 Volumes)" featuring works by international illustrators and the footsteps of the global "Commemoration of the 200th Anniversary of Hans Christian Andersen's Birth" are approaching us. We believe this exquisite gift, specially planned to commemorate the 200th anniversary of Hans Christian Andersen's birth, will surely become a precious collection for everyone to cherish and relive beautiful childhood memories.
Many years ago, there was an emperor who loved to wear beautiful new clothes. He spent all his money on clothes to look good, paid no attention to his army, and did not enjoy watching plays. He did not like riding in his carriage to stroll in the park unless it was to show off his new clothes. He changed his clothes every hour, and when people mentioned the emperor, they would say, "The emperor is in the conference room," but when they mentioned him, they would say, "The emperor is in the dressing room." In the city where he lived, life was very relaxed and pleasant. Many foreigners came every day. One day, two frauds arrived. They said they were weavers. They claimed they could weave the most beautiful fabrics imaginable. The colors and patterns of this fabric were not only very beautiful but also had a strange effect: anyone who was incompetent or foolish would not be able to see the clothes made from it.
"That's exactly the kind of clothes I want!" the emperor thought. "If I wear such clothes, I can see which people in my kingdom are incompetent and which ones are clever or foolish. Yes, I must have them weave such fabric immediately!" He paid the two frauds a lot of cash and told them to start working immediately. They set up two looms and pretended to be working, but there was nothing on their looms. They repeatedly asked the emperor for good silk and gold, which they pocketed while pretending to work busily on their empty looms until late at night.
"I really want to see how well they are weaving," the emperor thought. But he immediately remembered that foolish or incompetent people could not see the fabric. He felt a bit uneasy inside, but he believed he had nothing to fear. Still, he thought it would be better to send someone to check first. The whole city had heard about the strange power of this fabric, so everyone wanted to take the opportunity to test how foolish their neighbors were.
"I will send the honest old minister to see the weavers," the emperor thought. "Only he can see what the fabric looks like because he is very wise and no one is as competent as he is." So the kind old minister went to the weavers' workplace. They were busy working on their empty looms.
"What is going on here?" the old minister thought, opening his eyes wide like a bowl. "I can't see anything!" But he didn't dare say it. The two frauds asked him to come closer and asked if the pattern was beautiful and the color was lovely. They pointed to the empty looms. The poor old minister's eyes grew even wider, but he still couldn't see anything because there was nothing to see.
"Good heavens!" he thought. "Am I foolish? I have never doubted myself. I can't let anyone know this. Am I incompetent? No; I can't let anyone know I can't see the fabric."
"Oh, do you have any comments?" one of the weavers said. "Ah, it's beautiful! Truly wonderful!" the old minister said, looking closely through his glasses. "How beautiful the pattern is! How beautiful the color! Yes, I will report to the emperor that I am very satisfied with the fabric."
"Well, we're glad to hear that," the two weavers said together. They described the rare colors and patterns of the fabric and added some technical terms. The old minister listened carefully so he could repeat it when he returned to the emperor. In fact, he did just that.
The two frauds asked for even more money and more silk and gold, saying it was for the weaving. They pocketed everything and didn't put a single thread on the looms. Still, they continued to work on the empty machines.
After a while, the emperor sent another honest official to see if the fabric would be ready soon. His luck was no better than the first minister's: he looked and looked, but there was nothing on the empty looms. He couldn't see anything.
"Do you see how beautiful this fabric is?" the two frauds asked. They pointed to some beautiful patterns and gave some explanations. In reality, there were no patterns at all.
"I'm not foolish!" the official thought. "Perhaps I'm not worthy of holding such a high office? This is really ridiculous, but I can't let anyone see it!" So he praised the invisible fabric and told them he loved the beautiful colors and clever patterns.
"Yes, it's truly beautiful," he said when he returned to the emperor.
Everyone in the city was talking about the beautiful fabric. While it was still being woven, the emperor wanted to go see it himself. He selected a group of special attendants—among them were the two honest ministers who had already gone. So he went to the frauds' place. The two scoundrels were working hard on their looms, but there was no trace of thread visible.
"Do you see how beautiful this is?" the two honest ministers said. "Your Majesty, please look at how beautiful the patterns are! How beautiful the colors are!" They pointed to the empty looms, thinking others would see the fabric.
"What is going on?" the emperor thought. "I can't see anything! This is truly absurd! Am I foolish? Am I not worthy of being an emperor? This is the most terrible thing I have ever encountered."
"Oh, it's truly beautiful!" the emperor said. "I am completely satisfied!" He nodded to show his satisfaction. He pretended to look carefully at the looms because he didn't want to admit he couldn't see anything. All his attendants looked closely but saw nothing more. Still, they followed the emperor's lead and said, "Oh, it's truly beautiful!" They suggested using this strange, beautiful fabric to make clothes for the emperor to wear in the upcoming parade.
"Truly beautiful! Truly exquisite! It's wonderful!" Everyone echoed in agreement. Each person felt immense joy. The emperor gave each fraud a knighthood and an medal that could be worn on a buttonhole, and also appointed them as "Imperial Weavers."
The next morning, the grand parade was about to begin. That night, the two frauds stayed up all night, lighting sixteen candles. You could see they were working overtime to finish the emperor's new clothes. They pretended to take the fabric off the looms. They made a show of cutting in the air with two large scissors and sewing with a needle that had no thread.
Finally, they shouted together, "Look! The new clothes are finished!" The emperor arrived with his group of noble knights. The two frauds raised their hands as if they were holding something. They said, "Please look, this is the pants, this is the robe! This is the coat!" etc.
"This dress is as light as a spider's web: anyone wearing it would feel as if there was nothing on their body—this is the magic of the dress," they said.
"Exactly," all the knights said. But they couldn't see anything because there was nothing there.
"Now, Your Majesty, please take off your clothes," the two frauds said. "We will help you change into the new clothes in front of this large mirror." The emperor stripped completely naked. The two frauds pretended to hand him the new clothes they had just sewn. They fiddled with his waist as if tying something: this was the train (Note: The train (Sl?bet) is a long piece of fabric hanging behind a formal dress; it was a costume of European nobles in the feudal era). The emperor turned around in front of the mirror and twisted his waist.
"Good heavens, this dress fits so perfectly! The style is so beautiful!" everyone said.
"How beautiful the pattern is! How beautiful the color! It's truly a valuable set of clothes!"
"All the canopies are already prepared outside, just waiting for Your Majesty to step out to parade!" the ceremonial officer said.
"Yes, I'm already dressed," the emperor said. "Does this dress fit me?" He turned again in front of the mirror because he wanted everyone to see that he was seriously admiring his beautiful clothes. The attendants who were supposed to hold the train all fumbled with the ground as if they were really picking it up. They walked forward, holding the air—they didn't dare let anyone see they couldn't see anything.
So the emperor paraded under the magnificent canopy. The people on the streets and in the windows all said, "Good heavens, the emperor's new clothes are truly beautiful! How beautiful the train is under his shirt! The clothes fit him so perfectly!"
No one wanted to let anyone know they couldn't see anything, because that would expose their own incompetence or foolishness. The emperor's clothes had never received such universal praise.
"But he's not wearing any clothes!" a child finally shouted.
"Good heavens, listen to this innocent voice!" the father said. Then everyone quietly spread the child's words.
"He's not wearing any clothes! One child said he's not wearing any clothes!"
"He really isn't wearing any clothes!"
Finally, all the common people said. The emperor trembled a bit, as if he believed what the people were saying was true. But inside, he thought, "I must see this parade through." So he put on an even more arrogant air, and his attendants followed him, holding an imaginary train.
(1837)
This story was written in 1837 and published as part of a small collection along with another fairy tale, "The Little Mermaid," written in the same year. At that time, Hans Christian Andersen was only 32 years old, which was the third year he had been writing fairy tales (he began writing fairy tales at the age of 30). But from this fairy tale, we can see how deeply Hans Christian Andersen observed society. Here, he exposed the vanity, extravagance, and stupidity of the ruling class, led by the emperor. The frauds noticed their characteristics and proposed, "Anyone who is incompetent or foolish cannot see this dress." Of course, they couldn't see it because there was no dress. But they were guilty and afraid that people would discover their own incompetence and foolishness, so they all unanimously praised the non-existent dress as if it were beautiful and said it looked wonderful when worn, even going so far as to hold a parade while completely naked, displaying themselves for the people to admire and praise.
Unfortunately, this ridiculous fraud was exposed to the common people. The "emperor" couldn't face the truth and still had to pretend, "I must see this parade through," and "Therefore, I must put on an even more arrogant air." This kind of ruler, who is both deceitful and foolish, probably exists in any era. Therefore, this fairy tale remains relevant at all times.