Shevin Consulting
	(315) 443-5179 info@shevin.org	Mayer Shevin, Ph.D. 275 Fellows Avenue Syracuse NY 13210 USA

THE OTHER EMPEROR'S NEW CLOAK

Mayer Shevin, (c)1993

    There once lived a twin brother and sister who were in love with their craft.  Their craft was weaving, but it was far more than that.  From the lambing to the shearing, from the carding to the dyeing, from the spinning to the weaving, they sought to bring joy and gladness, comfort and love into each yard that rolled shimmering from their loom.  Each year they learned more and more about the craft they loved, and each year they grew wiser and bolder in their work.  Their names were Annabel and Willis, but everyone called them "Mistress and Master Weaver."
 
   In their forty-first year, they set off on a journey, telling no one where they were going or when they would return.  Six months later they returned, riding in a wagon covered with canvas and looking very pleased with themselves.  When friends asked them where they had been and what they brought back with them, they smiled and said only, "We have taken a weaver's holiday, and now we truly know how to weave!"  A week after their return, they sent a letter to the Emperor, asking to meet with him.

    What they told the Emperor was this:  "Your Majesty, we wish to make a new cloak for you, as a gift to you and to all of our people.  On our journey, we have learned a new way to weave that has never been seen in our land before."  The old emperor, who was always pleased when new wisdom was brought to his people, begged them to continue their story.
 
   "Your Majesty," Annabel said, "We have learned to catch dreams, and to twine them around the warp threads.  And we have learned to carve our shuttle in the shape of two dolphins, so that the dolphins' song cries through the heddle each time the shuttle is thrown."  The Emperor knew nothing of the weaver's craft, but he could tell from the way Annabel's eyes shone and the way her fingers danced as she spoke that there was magic in that quiet room.  "Would you show me your cloth?" he asked. 

    The room became even quieter as Willis unwrapped the bolt they had brought with them.  And the tears began streaming down the Emperor's cheeks as he silently stroked the woolen fabric with his old, trembling fingers.  At last, reluctantly, the Emperor took his hand from the cloth and turned back to Willis and Annabel, wiping his eyes. 
 
   "Oh, my friends," he said, "it's been so long, so long...  But where did you find my dreams to weave into your wonderful cloth?"

    Annabel smiled, and her fingers seemed to twirl an invisible spindle as she spoke.  "Your Majesty," she said," the dreams we wove into this cloth are in the air all around us, made of the breath that goes in and out of each of us.  And so not only you, but each of your people will see the dreams they most long to remember blazing through the cloth."
 
  "This is a great gift you bring," said the Emperor, and his eyes shone as brightly as Annabel's.  "How can I reward you?"
 
   "All we ask," said Willis, "is that you go forth on the First of May dressed in a cloak made of the cloth we will weave for you tonight.  On that day, tell our people that Annabel and I will teach them all to weave such wool.  For from that day on," he said, "no man, woman or child will need to go forth dressed in rags.  And you, our Emperor, will be the one to share this gift with our people." 

    The Emperor embraced both of them, sent them off with many thanks, and began preparing in great joy to greet the First of May with all his people.  Meanwhile, Annabel and Willis returned to their workshop, and eagerly began weaving the cloth for the Emperor's new cloak.
 
   *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
   
    On the same night that Annabel and Willis began making the Emperor's new cloak, a child in the house across the street from them was crying herself to sleep.  The sign on the door of the house where the child was crying proclaimed who lived there, although the girl, whose name was Chloe, wasn't mentioned on the sign at all.  "PROFESSOR PETER PIPER -- EXPERT," the sign read, and in slightly smaller letters underneath, "PROVEN BY TEST: THE WISEST MAN IN THE KINGDOM." On this night, though, Chloe was not thinking about how wise her father was -- on this night, she could only cry, and try to forget how badly her father had hurt her.  Her father's anger was easily aroused, and never more strongly than when he heard her speaking to her younger sister about her dreams as they sat before the fire.  "Chloe," he would say, coming into the room, "you must tell me all about your dreams -- I am, after all, an expert in the matter."  And he would cock his head toward the wall filled with framed certificates.  Chloe dreaded those times: in his most scholarly-sounding way, her father would ask, "So tell me, my dear, start to finish, exactly what nonsense you are spinning now."  Tremblingly, she would begin to tell her father the dream he had overheard her whispering to her sister, but always the same thing would happen -- practically before she began her story, her father's face would darken with anger.

    "Who has been teaching you such nonsense?" he would demand.  "Nobody," Chloe would whisper -- "these are my dreams!" 
 
   "Don't lie to me, you wicked child!" he would roar.  "I know there are no such things as dreams -- it's all wicked pretending.  My father stopped me from such wicked pretending when I was a child, and now I shall stop your wicked pretending too, you wicked, wicked child."  And that, of course, is when he would hit her.
 
  And so this night, while Annabel sang as she drew the pattern for the Emperor's cloak, while Willis whistled with the dolphin's song as the shuttle raced across the loom, Chloe wiped her tears one more time, held her doll tightly in her arms, and waited for her dreams to come.
  
 *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
 
   The morning of the First of May dawned in a bright mist, as the last-minute preparations were made at the gates of the Emperor's palace for the Crowning of the May.  The maypole was set in the square, bundles of flowering branches were everywhere, and the smells of baking and roasting filled the air.  But as the people began to gather and the musicians began to tune their instruments, everyone's attention turned and returned to the doors of the palace -- because everyone had heard that today was the day the Emperor at last would share with everyone Mistress and Master Weaver's gift to them all. 

    As the people gathered in the square, Professor Peter Piper pushed and prodded his portentious  way to the front of the crowd, followed by two of his almost-as-wise colleagues, and by Chloe. 

    "Observe," said the professor, "how easily swindled these bumpkins are by the promise of miracles and mummery.  Why, they will jostle and quarrel to grab hold of a Branch of May, when any one of them could have taken an identical twig from his own back yard.  And all this fuss about the First of May -- who can prove to me how it differs by a hair from the Thirtieth of April?"  And his two almost-as-wise colleagues laughed knowingly. "I hope," said Professor Peter Piper to his daughter, "that you are not so foolish as to be taken in by this flummery."
 
   "Please, father," said Chloe, "Will we be able to see the Emperor's dream-cloak from here?"  Professor Piper glared at her, and said coolly to his colleagues, "The child, of course, is a master of irony -- a gift from her father."  And he pinched her arm as he gazed frowningly at the palace door.
 
  Suddenly, a shout ran through the crowd as the palace door opened, and Chloe and her father were pushed toward the door by the press of people behind them.  The first to come out of the palace door were the dancers, with bells jingling around their ankles and their handkerchiefs waving in the air as they leaped and turned.  Then came the mummers, clowns dressed in ragged finery:  there was the King of Patches and Queen Blowzibel, the Fool, the Captain, the Doctor, and Grim Death, bowing extravagantly to the cheering crowd.  And then...
 
   But nobody followed them out of the palace gate.  The musicians, who had been waiting for the Emperor's appearance to begin their fanfare, looked at each other in confusion, and finally lowered their instruments and waited.
 
  Grumbles began to be heard in the crowd.  "What are they waiting for?" someone complained.  "Where is the Emperor?"  "Where is his dream-cloak?"  Chloe craned her neck, but could only see the crowd around her.
 
  "Here I am," the Emperor's voice sang out, "right under your noses!"  For a moment, everyone looked around in confusion, not knowing who had spoken.  Suddenly, the King of Patches stepped from the rest of the mummers and threw off his clown's mask and tattered blanket.  It was the Emperor! 
 
   As he stood there revealed in his dream-cloak, a great "Ah!" went up from the crowd, followed by a long hush... and through the hush could be heard deep sighs, quiet weeping, and gentle wondering laughter...

    "I've never seen such balderdash!" rang out the petulant voice of precise Professor Peter Piper.  "Am I the only sane man left in this kingdom?  Can't you see that you've all been hoodwinked?"
 
  The Emperor turned his kind old face toward the professor.  "What do you wish of us, my friend?" he asked.
 
   Professor Piper was taken aback for a moment to be addressed by the Emperor face to face -- but only for a moment.  "Of you, Your Majesty, I wish nothing -- for you are old, and your senses are obviously wandering, or else you would not take part in this rude masquerade -- parading about the square in your underwear!"

    "What are you talking about?" said an old woman in the crowd.  "The Emperor is clothed in great splendor!"  "Hurrah for the Emperor!"  "Hurrah for Mistress and Master Weaver!" came several other voices.  Professor Peter Piper put on his spectacles and peered into the crowd.

    "You there!" he cried to the old woman who had spoken up, "Would you be so kind as to describe for us this marvelous garment you see before you?" 
 
   "Of course, professor," she beamed.  "I haven't seen such a cloak since I was a little girl -- all spangled with stars and moons and the clouds of the night sky..."

    "Why that's not how it looks at all!" said another man in the crowd.  "Can't you see that it shines like the scales of a trout in a sunny stream?"
 
   "But it's as white as the waves on a stormy sea!" cried a sailor.
 
  The professor looked around in triumph.  "Now who would believe any of you?" he crowed.  "What a bunch of fools!  I shall go at once to write a monograph for the Society for the Advancement of Scientific Knowledge detailing this case of mass hysteria.  Emperor's  new clothes indeed!  Why even my little daughter here can see through this chicanery!" 

    "I can see a cloak made of apple blossoms..." began Chloe, but her father had already stormed off, followed by his two almost-as-wise colleagues.  His mind was so set on advancing his professional career by writing what would later be known as "A Case Study:  The Emperor's New Clothes", that he totally forgot that Chloe had been with him.
 
   The musicians began playing a wild piper's tune, and the crowd cheered as the Emperor, dressed in all their dreams, began spinning the mummers' Queen around in his arms.  Chloe stood looking bewildered, staring first at her father disappearing across the square, and then at the Emperor, laughing and capering in his cloak of apple-blossoms.  She began to weep softly, and suddenly felt a gentle touch on her shoulder.  She looked up into the kind, sparkling eyes of her neighbor from across the street.
 
  "Happy May Day, Chloe!"  said Annabel to the little girl.  "My dear one, I've been wanting to speak to you for some time.  Child, would you like to learn how to weave?"  And of course, that's when Chloe said "Yes."