Prevod

Many years ago there lived an emperor who was so exceedingly fond of fine new clothes that he spent all his money on dressing himself splendidly. He cared nothing for his soldiers, nor for the theatre, nor for driving through the woods, unless it gave him a chance to show off his new clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day, and just as people say of a king, “He is in council,” here they always said, “The emperor is in his wardrobe!”

Life was very merry in the great city where he lived, and many strangers arrived every day. One day two swindlers came. They claimed to be weavers and said they knew how to weave the most beautiful cloth imaginable. Not only were its colours and pattern extraordinarily lovely, but clothes made from it had the remarkable property of becoming invisible to anyone who was unfit for his office or unpardonably stupid.

“Those would be splendid clothes,” thought the emperor. “By wearing them, I could discover which men in my empire are unfit for the offices they hold. I could tell the wise from the foolish! Yes, this cloth must be woven for me at once!” And he gave the two swindlers a large sum in advance so that they could begin their work.

They set up two looms and pretended to work, though there was not the slightest thing on either loom. Without hesitation they demanded the finest silk and the most magnificent gold thread. These they put into their own bags, while they worked at the empty looms far into the night.

“I should very much like to know how they are getting on with the cloth!” thought the emperor. Yet his heart felt rather uneasy when he remembered that anyone who was stupid or unfit for his office would be unable to see it. Of course, he believed he had nothing to fear for himself, but he thought he would send someone else first to see how matters stood. Everyone in the city knew what a remarkable power the cloth possessed, and everyone was eager to discover how unfit or foolish his neighbour was.

“I shall send my honest old minister to the weavers!” thought the emperor. “He is the best man to judge how the cloth looks, for he has good sense, and no one is better suited to his office!”

So the worthy old minister went into the hall where the two swindlers sat working at their empty looms. “Heaven preserve us!” thought the old minister, opening his eyes wide. “I cannot see a thing!” But he did not say so.

Both swindlers invited him to step closer and asked whether he did not think the pattern beautiful and the colours lovely. They pointed to the empty loom, and the poor old minister went on staring, but he could see nothing, for there was nothing there. “Good heavens!” he thought. “Can I be stupid? I have never thought so, and no one must ever know! Am I unfit for my office? No, it will never do to admit that I cannot see the cloth!”

“Well, you have nothing to say about it!” said one of the weavers. “Oh, it is delightful! Quite exquisite!” said the old minister, peering through his spectacles. “This pattern, and these colours! Yes, I shall tell the emperor that I am extremely pleased with it!”

“We are delighted to hear it!” said both weavers. Then they named the colours and described the unusual pattern. The old minister listened carefully so that he could repeat it all when he returned to the emperor, and that was just what he did.

Now the swindlers demanded more money, more silk, and more gold thread, which they said they needed for their weaving. They put it all into their own pockets. Not a single strand went onto the looms, but they continued as before, weaving at the empty looms.

Before long the emperor sent another worthy official to see how the weaving was progressing and whether the cloth would soon be ready. His experience was just the same as the minister’s: he looked and looked, but since there was nothing except the empty looms, he could see nothing.

“Is it not a beautiful piece of cloth?” said both swindlers, displaying and explaining the lovely pattern that was not there at all. “I am not stupid!” thought the man. “Then it must be that I am unfit for this fine office of mine. How very strange! But I must not let anyone notice!” And so he praised the cloth he could not see and assured them of his delight in its beautiful colours and lovely pattern. “Yes, it is quite exquisite!” he told the emperor.

Everyone in the city was talking about the magnificent cloth. Now the emperor wished to see it himself while it was still on the loom. With a whole company of distinguished gentlemen, including the two worthy old officials who had already been there, he went to visit the two cunning swindlers. They were weaving away with all their might, but without a strand or a thread.

“Is it not magnificent?” said the two worthy officials. “Will Your Majesty look at the pattern, and those colours!” And they pointed to the empty loom, for they were sure the others could see the cloth.

“What is this?” thought the emperor. “I can see nothing! This is terrible! Am I stupid? Am I unfit to be emperor? That would be the most dreadful thing that could happen to me!” “Oh, it is very beautiful!” said the emperor. “It has my highest approval!” And he nodded contentedly as he gazed at the empty loom; he would not admit that he could see nothing. His whole retinue looked and looked, but saw no more than anyone else. Still, they echoed the emperor: “Oh, it is very beautiful!” And they advised him to wear these splendid new clothes for the first time at the grand procession that was soon to take place. “Magnificent! Delightful! Excellent!” passed from mouth to mouth, and they were all thoroughly pleased with it. The emperor gave each of the swindlers a knight’s cross to wear in his buttonhole and bestowed on them the title of Gentlemen Weavers.

All through the night before the morning of the procession, the swindlers stayed up with more than sixteen candles burning. People could see how busy they were finishing the emperor’s new clothes. They pretended to take the cloth from the loom, snipped the air with large scissors, sewed with needles without thread, and at last declared, “There! Now the clothes are ready!”

The emperor came in person with his most distinguished courtiers, and both swindlers raised an arm as though holding something up and said, “Here are the trousers! Here is the coat! Here is the cloak!” And so they went on. “They are as light as a cobweb! You might think you had nothing on at all, but that is precisely their virtue!”

“Indeed!” said all the courtiers, though they could see nothing, for there was nothing there. “Would Your Imperial Majesty now most graciously consent to remove your clothes?” said the swindlers. “Then we shall put the new ones on you, here before the great mirror!”

The emperor took off all his clothes, and the swindlers behaved as though they were dressing him in each of the new garments they were supposed to have sewn, while the emperor turned this way and that before the mirror.

“Heavens, how becoming they are! What a splendid fit!” they all said. “What a pattern! What colours! It is a costly suit indeed!” “They are waiting outside with the canopy that is to be carried over Your Majesty in the procession!” said the master of ceremonies.

“Well, I am ready!” said the emperor. “Does it not fit beautifully?” And he turned once more before the mirror, for he had to make it seem as though he were admiring his finery.

The chamberlains who were to carry the train felt about on the floor as though picking it up, then walked along holding their hands in the air. They dared not let anyone notice that they could see nothing.

And so the emperor walked in the procession beneath the beautiful canopy, and everyone in the streets and at the windows said, “Heavens, the emperor’s new clothes are beyond compare! What a lovely train his coat has! How beautifully it fits!” No one would admit to seeing nothing, for that would mean he was unfit for his office or very stupid. None of the emperor’s clothes had ever been such a success.

“But he has nothing on,” said a little child. “Good heavens, listen to the voice of innocence,” said the father; and one person whispered to another what the child had said.

“But he has nothing on!” the whole crowd shouted at last. The emperor shuddered, for he felt they were right, but he thought, “Now I must see the procession through.” And the chamberlains walked on, carrying the train that was not there at all.