The emperor’s new clothes

This story didn’t make much sense to me when my dad read it to me while I was about five years old. Now I think it get it.

It seems that in the land of Cathay—the place we now call China – there were two clothiers who nowadays we would call shysters – in English of course. There probably is a Chinese equivalent, but who’s to say?

Anyway, these two clothiers showed up one day in the Emperor’s court with wondrous news: They had developed a new fabric which was so delicate and refined, that it was virtually weightless, and sheer enough in its appearance that only intelligent people could see it. So persuasive were these clothiers that, while the story seemed outlandish, the emperor was mesmerized and ordered an entirely new wardrobe. The clothiers immediately set to work, measuring , cutting and joining the rich cloth, while courtiers looking on, nodding that, indeed, it was the finest fabric they had every laid eyes on. The emperor, not to appear to be ignorant, calmly agreed, for fear that any display of disbelief on his part might undermine the confidence his minions would have in him.

Finally the great day arrived for the emperor to display his fine vestments, and he ascended the staircase to a majestic float which was part of a grand parade through the capital city of Cathay. Having been informed of the wondrous nature of the emperor’s garments, the subjects gathered from miles around to witness the spectacle, as great marching bands passed. Among the viewers was a small girl, who wanted to be part of the festivities, and therefore, sitting atop her father’s shoulders, she blew into a reed flute, whistling a tune to match the majestic song of the musicians. Everyone was in awe, and—privately—ashamed for they lacked the confidence to admit that they could not see the garments. Not so the little girl. No-one heard the whistle fall from her lips as her hands and mouth opened in surprise, but some heard her audible shout when she exclaimed, “But His Highness! His Hiney!

And yes, as the float passed, there it was in plain view, His Hinness’ Hiney was Hanging for all to see. Soon a murmur, then a rumble, then a shout, bracketed by exuberant laughter flowed from the crowd, as the paean grew in strength: "His Highness! His Hiney! His Highness, His Hiney!”

And at last, His Highness realized that indeed, he had been fooled, and that the fine vestments he thought were covering his Hiney were merely a sham, and a testament to the failure of his minions and his own blind naivety. 

But, being the emperor, there was nothing to do but finish the parade, and moon the onlookers, and so the show went on…

Now when I heard that story, it made absolutely no sense to me. Why didn’t the emperor cover up, I asked. But my father just smiled. Being an adult with many years of experience, he knew why the parade went on. And you probably do, as well.

But do you know what happened to the little whistle blower? In all the excitement she vanished in the crowd, and no-one, not even her parents, could find a trace of her. So a second lesson to take away from this story is an explanation of why people don’t speak up when they know something’s haywire.

Tomorrow’s story: Truth and Consequences.