THE ELF OF THE ROSE

　　MANY, many years ago lived an emperor, who thought so much

　　of new clothes that he spent all his money in order to obtain

　　them; his only ambition was to be always well dressed. He did

　　not care for his soldiers, and the theatre did not amuse him;

　　the only thing, in fact, he thought anything of was to drive

　　out and show a new suit of clothes. He had a coat for every

　　hour of the day; and as one would say of a king "He is in his

　　cabinet," so one could say of him, "The emperor is in his

　　dressing-room."

　　The great city where he resided was very gay; every day

　　many strangers from all parts of the globe arrived. One day

　　two swindlers came to this city; they made people believe that

　　they were weavers1, and declared they could manufacture the

　　finest cloth to be imagined. Their colours and patterns, they

　　said, were not only exceptionally beautiful, but the clothes

　　made of their material possessed2 the wonderful quality of

　　being invisible to any man who was unfit for his office or

　　unpardonably stupid.

　　"That must be wonderful cloth," thought the emperor. "If I

　　were to be dressed in a suit made of this cloth I should be

　　able to find out which men in my empire were unfit for their

　　places, and I could distinguish the clever from the stupid. I

　　must have this cloth woven for me without delay." And he gave

　　a large sum of money to the swindlers, in advance, that they

　　should set to work without any loss of time. They set up two

　　looms4, and pretended to be very hard at work, but they did

　　nothing whatever on the looms. They asked for the finest silk

　　and the most precious gold-cloth; all they got they did away

　　with, and worked at the empty looms till late at night.

　　"I should very much like to know how they are getting on

　　with the cloth," thought the emperor. But he felt rather

　　uneasy when he remembered that he who was not fit for his

　　office could not see it. Personally, he was of opinion that he

　　had nothing to fear, yet he thought it advisable to send

　　somebody else first to see how matters stood. Everybody in the

　　town knew what a remarkable5 quality the stuff possessed, and

　　all were anxious to see how bad or stupid their neighbours

　　were.

　　"I shall send my honest old minister to the weavers,"

　　thought the emperor. "He can judge best how the stuff looks,

　　for he is intelligent, and nobody understands his office

　　better than he."

　　The good old minister went into the room where the

　　swindlers sat before the empty looms. "Heaven preserve us!" he

　　thought, and opened his eyes wide, "I cannot see anything at

　　all," but he did not say so. Both swindlers requested him to

　　come near, and asked him if he did not admire the exquisite

　　pattern and the beautiful colours, pointing to the empty

　　looms. The poor old minister tried his very best, but he could

　　see nothing, for there was nothing to be seen. "Oh dear," he

　　thought, "can I be so stupid? I should never have thought so,

　　and nobody must know it! Is it possible that I am not fit for

　　my office? No, no, I cannot say that I was unable to see the

　　cloth."

　　"Now, have you got nothing to say?" said one of the

　　swindlers, while he pretended to be busily weaving.

　　"Oh, it is very pretty, exceedingly beautiful," replied

　　the old minister looking through his glasses. "What a

　　beautiful pattern, what brilliant colours! I shall tell the

　　emperor that I like the cloth very much."

　　"We are pleased to hear that," said the two weavers, and

　　described to him the colours and explained the curious

　　pattern. The old minister listened attentively6, that he might

　　relate to the emperor what they said; and so he did.

　　Now the swindlers asked for more money, silk and

　　gold-cloth, which they required for weaving. They kept

　　everything for themselves, and not a thread came near the

　　loom3, but they continued, as hitherto, to work at the empty

　　looms.

　　Soon afterwards the emperor sent another honest courtier

　　to the weavers to see how they were getting on, and if the

　　cloth was nearly finished. Like the old minister, he looked

　　and looked but could see nothing, as there was nothing to be

　　seen.

　　"Is it not a beautiful piece of cloth?" asked the two

　　swindlers, showing and explaining the magnificent pattern,

　　which, however, did not exist.

　　"I am not stupid," said the man. "It is therefore my good

　　appointment for which I am not fit. It is very strange, but I

　　must not let any one know it;" and he praised the cloth, which

　　he did not see, and expressed his joy at the beautiful colours

　　and the fine pattern. "It is very excellent," he said to the

　　emperor.

　　Everybody in the whole town talked about the precious

　　cloth. At last the emperor wished to see it himself, while it

　　was still on the loom. With a number of courtiers, including

　　the two who had already been there, he went to the two clever

　　swindlers, who now worked as hard as they could, but without

　　using any thread.

　　"Is it not magnificent?" said the two old statesmen who

　　had been there before. "Your Majesty7 must admire the colours

　　and the pattern." And then they pointed8 to the empty looms,

　　for they imagined the others could see the cloth.

　　"What is this?" thought the emperor, "I do not see

　　anything at all. That is terrible! Am I stupid? Am I unfit to

　　be emperor? That would indeed be the most dreadful thing that

　　could happen to me."

　　"Really," he said, turning to the weavers, "your cloth has

　　our most gracious approval;" and nodding contentedly9 he looked

　　at the empty loom, for he did not like to say that he saw

　　nothing. All his attendants, who were with him, looked and

　　looked, and although they could not see anything more than the

　　others, they said, like the emperor, "It is very beautiful."

　　And all advised him to wear the new magnificent clothes at a

　　great procession which was soon to take place. "It is

　　magnificent, beautiful, excellent," one heard them say;

　　everybody seemed to be delighted, and the emperor appointed

　　the two swindlers "Imperial Court weavers."

　　The whole night previous to the day on which the

　　procession was to take place, the swindlers pretended to work,

　　and burned more than sixteen candles. People should see that

　　they were busy to finish the emperor's new suit. They

　　pretended to take the cloth from the loom, and worked about in

　　the air with big scissors, and sewed with needles without

　　thread, and said at last: "The emperor's new suit is ready

　　now."

　　The emperor and all his barons10 then came to the hall; the

　　swindlers held their arms up as if they held something in

　　their hands and said: "These are the trousers!" "This is the

　　coat!" and "Here is the cloak!" and so on. "They are all as

　　light as a cobweb, and one must feel as if one had nothing at

　　all upon the body; but that is just the beauty of them."

　　"Indeed!" said all the courtiers; but they could not see

　　anything, for there was nothing to be seen.

　　"Does it please your Majesty now to graciously undress,"

　　said the swindlers, "that we may assist your Majesty in

　　putting on the new suit before the large looking-glass?"

　　The emperor undressed, and the swindlers pretended to put

　　the new suit upon him, one piece after another; and the

　　emperor looked at himself in the glass from every side.

　　"How well they look! How well they fit!" said all. "What a

　　beautiful pattern! What fine colours! That is a magnificent

　　suit of clothes!"

　　The master of the ceremonies announced that the bearers of

　　the canopy12, which was to be carried in the procession, were

　　ready.

　　"I am ready," said the emperor. "Does not my suit fit me

　　marvellously?" Then he turned once more to the looking-glass,

　　that people should think he admired his garments.

　　The chamberlains, who were to carry the train, stretched

　　their hands to the ground as if they lifted up a train, and

　　pretended to hold something in their hands; they did not like

　　people to know that they could not see anything.

　　The emperor marched in the procession under the beautiful

　　canopy, and all who saw him in the street and out of the

　　windows exclaimed: "Indeed, the emperor's new suit is

　　incomparable! What a long train he has! How well it fits him!"

　　Nobody wished to let others know he saw nothing, for then he

　　would have been unfit for his office or too stupid. Never

　　emperor's clothes were more admired.

　　"But he has nothing on at all," said a little child at

　　last. "Good heavens! listen to the voice of an innocent

　　child," said the father, and one whispered to the other what

　　the child had said. "But he has nothing on at all," cried at

　　last the whole people. That made a deep impression upon the

　　emperor, for it seemed to him that they were right; but he

　　thought to himself, "Now I must bear up to the end." And the

　　chamberlains walked with still greater dignity, as if they

　　carried the train which did not exist.

　　THE END