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 theater 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
weavers, and declared they could manufacture the finest cloth to be imagined.
Their colors and patterns, they said, were not only exceptionally beautiful,
but the clothes made of their material possessed 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
looms, 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 remarkable quality the stuff possessed, and
all were anxious to see how bad or stupid their neighbors 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 colors, 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 colors! 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 colors and explained the curious
pattern. The old minister listened attentively, 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 loom, 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 anyone know it;” and he praised the cloth, which he
did not see, and expressed his joy at the beautiful colors 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 Majesty must admire the colors
and the pattern.” And then they pointed 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 contentedly
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 barons
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 colors! That is a
magnificent suit of clothes!” The master of the ceremonies
announced that the bearers of the canopy, which was to be carried in the
procession, were ready.
“I am ready,” said the emperor.
“Does not my suit fit me marvelously?” 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 I 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...!
It’s a good old story by Hans Christian Andersen about the voluptuary and indifferent Emperor alright, but why am I sharing it here...? What reminds me of this story...? I was just pondering over the universally acclaimed economical development tool GDP as against something new and weird concept of GNH (Gross National Happiness) by an insignificant tiny country like Bhutan. Is Bhutan, being the little child it is, trying to express something about (or against?) the Comprehensive Global Phenomenon called Development measured in GDPs…? Ah… is it the rampant economical development that is playing the Emperor here…!?! Unable to see what world witnesses clearly, I must be completely unfit for my office or too stupid… am I?
Stay tuned and we might discuss I-HDI here…!
