The Emperor's New Clothes - (1994, rev. 2012)    

Libretto by Gary Bachlund

After a story by Hans Christian Andersen

 

for bass (Privy Councilor), baritone (Minister-of-State), high baritone (Duke), soprano (Duchess), mezzo soprano (Lady Largebottom), character tenor (Emperor), lyric tenor (First Weaver) and lyric soprano (Second Weaver) and chamber ensemble. (circa 50 minutes)

 

 

Also in German translation by Annette Zühlke: Des Kaisers neue Kleider.

 

The piano-vocal score for The Emperor's New Clothes is available as a free PDF download, though any major commercial performance or recording of the work is prohibited without prior arrangement with the composer. Click on the graphic below for this score.

 

The Emperor's New Clothes

8 ½ 11 Letter format

 

The Emperor's New Clothes

A4 format

 

For inquiries and the arrangement of performance rights, click here for Contact Information

 

[ 84 pages with cover, circa 50 minutes ]

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i.  Royal Rondeau and Fugue  [Instrumental only]

ii. Conspirators' Duet

Privy Councilor:
M'Lord Minister?

Minister-of-State:
M'Lord Councilor?

Privy Councilor:
May we speak privately?

Minister-of-State:
The Emperor?

Privy Councilor:
Exactly.
In the abstract we must have a chat.
As Head of State he's weak.

Minister-of-State:
The Emperor?

Privy Councilor:
Exactly.
Matter of fact, we must agree to see some action done.

Minister-of-State:
The Emperor!

Privy Councilor:
Exactly.
So what are we to do?

Minister-of-State:
Yes, what, and when's the day?

Privy Councilor:
There cannot be delay.

Minister-of-State:
The Emperor?

Privy Councilor:
Exactly.
He shows no interest in war, nor guns nor ammunition.

Minister-of-State:
Nor for the hale competitor's athletic competition.

Privy Councilor:
He cares for little else but clothes.

Minister-of-State:
For clothes and for high fashion.

Privy Councilor:
He shows no interest in the State!

Minister-of-State:
This nation's not his passion!

Privy Councilor:
Shh! What if someone's listening?

Minister-of-State:
He cares not for our culture, not for theater, opera, art.

Privy Councilor:
As ruler, he's an amateur, for fashion has his heart.
So, what are we to do?

Minister-of-State:
Yes, what, and when's the day?

Privy Councilor:
Our nation's in decay.

Minister-of-State:
The Emperor!

Privy Councilor:
Exactly.

Minister-of-State:
Exactly!

Privy Councilor:
He's a burlesque, a parody, a travesty.

Minister-of-State:
A farce!

Privy Councilor:
He's dandy, a laughing-stock, a tragedy.

Minister-of-State:
An arse!

Privy Minister:
He's hindrance, a canker gnaws within the ship of state.

Minister-of-State:
He's clotheshorse, a fashion-plate who ought to abdicate.

Privy Councilor:
An elegant solution!

Minister-of-State:
Were he to go, I could not shed one tear.

Privy Councilor:
Were he to vanish, I'd not think it queer...
...for he's neurotic, no sovereign, no potentate.

Minister-of-State:
No tsar.

Privy Councilor:
He's a blockhead! He acts the fool! He's fussy....

Minister-of-State:
...and bizarre!

Privy Councilor:
He's capricious! An obstacle!

Minister-of-State:
Our Emperor...until he is proven unfit to rule.

Privy Councilor:
Perhaps he fit to kill?

Minister-of-State:
An assassination? How I love politics!
Were he to go, I could shed not one tear.

Privy Councilor:
Were he to vanish, I'd not think it queer.

Minister-of-State:
Imagine all the fatal hazards in a wardrobe!

Privy Councilor:
He could be found....

Minister-of-State:
Strangled by a feather boa...

Privy Councilor:
...near some cyanide sachet!

Minister-of-State:
Strung up by a silken slip knot...

Privy Councilor:
...lifeless in his rich array.

Minister-of-State:
Dangling, sadly a propos a stuffed and trophied popinjay.

Privy Councilor:
Wrung up by a fabric garrote, shrouded there to hang and sway.

Minister-of-State:
A suicide by clothing!
Were he to go, I could shed not one tear.

Privy Councilor:
Were he to vanish, I'd not think it queer.

Together:
Oh, what a tasty scheme! Oh, what a plan!

Minister-of-State:
As he's dressed fit to kill....

Privy Councilor:
...assassinate the man!

Minister-of-State:
"Vaya con Dios!"

Privy Councilor:
"Adieu" for a spell.

Minister-of-State:
"Leb' wohl!"

Privy Councilor:
"Addio,"

Together:
"Goodbye and farewell."

Minister-of-State:
Destiny calls!

Together:
Goodbye! Farewell!

Privy Councilor:
Ashes to ashes!

Together:
Goodbye! Farewell!

iii.  Laughing Quintet

[ The Duke, Duchess and Lady Largebottom enter, almost surprising the conspirators.]

Duke:
What ho! M'Lords!

Privy Councilor:
The Duke!

Minister-of-State:
Duchess!

Duke:
Minister! Councilor! Sweltering day!

Privy Councilor:
Isn't it?

Minister-of-State:
Isn't it?

Duchess/Lady Largebottom:
Isn't it hot?

Privy Councilor:
A fluke!

Duke:
Much as I prefer at it were once again May!

Minister-of-State:
It isn't.

Privy Councilor:
It isn't.

Duchess/Lady Largebottom:
It isn't. It's not!

Together:
We're broiling in August, and only the strongest are out at midday!

Duke:
Why is it?

Duchess/Lady Largebottom:
Why is it? Why's it so hot?

Together:
The temperature's rising!

And who is perspiring that fragrant bouquet?

Duke:
Were that I...

Duchess/Lady Largebottom:
Were that we out on the yacht!

Together:
Joking, carousing and passing our days.
Laughing out loud at the Emperor's ways!
Gossip runs wild at his foolish displays.
Ha-ha! Hee-hee! Ho-ho!
Scandalous news at the fool he portrays!
Ah, ha-ha! Hee-hee! Ho-ho!
Ah, ha-ha! Heh!
With every gaffe, we laugh, "Hip-hip-hoo-ray!"

Privy Councilor:
Rebuke touches each of us.
Mischievous jokers, beware!
Don't be found to expound
jokes without care!

Minister-of-State:
Dear Duke! Duchess! As with us,
previous jokers would dare,
and, while engrossed, almost
were caught unaware!

Minister-of-State/Privy Councilor:
Joking's not prudent
when near to the Emperor!
Poking some fun's
insincere in the Emperor's
point-of-view.
Static, fanatical point-of-view.
Most problematical point-of-view.
Antic and frantic and all too true!

Minister-of-State:
True! And yet I have noticed it's queer that he....

Privy Councilor:
Quietly, please!

[Minister-of State whispers his gossip to the others.]

Together:
Ho-ho! Ha! Ho-ho! Ha!
Ho-ho-ho! Ha! Hee! etc.

Duke:
But, even so, have you heard what he does when overseas? Well....

[Duke whispers his gossip to the others.]

Together:
Ho-ho! Ha! Ho-ho! Ha!
Ho-ho-ho! Ha! Hee! etc.

Privy Councilor:
There's scandalous news of his catching some social disease, to whit:...

[Privy Councilor whispers his gossip to the others, as the others quiver with laughter.]

Together:
Hm-hm-hm! Hm-hm-hm! Ha!
Ha! Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha..... etc.
Ho-ho-ho-ho! Ha!
Ho-ho-ho-ho! Ha!
Ho-ho-ho! Ha-ha-ha! etc.

iv.   The Emperor
 

[ A fanfare announced the arrival of the Emperor. The five quickly regain their composure. ]

Privy Councilor:
The Emperor!

Minister of-State:
The Emperor!

Duke:
Dear Emperor!

Duchess/Lady Largebottom:
Most gracious Emperor!

[ The Emperor, suspicious of all, holds an impromptu court. ]

Emperor:
As Emperor, my temper serves to show the way.
This regal life shall not be rife with exposé.
I'll not abide the critic.
I deem them parasitic.
This is my law you'll hold in awe, and shall obey.
Never, ever criticize me! Me! Me!
Criticize he! Criticize she!
But, never, ever criticize me! Me! Me!
Criticize them! Criticize they!
Criticize infidels any old day!
Criticize who? Criticize you!
Criticize someone else!
Merci beaucoup!
Don't assault my city's bureaucrat committees!
Never fault my taxes! Heads will role by axes!
Criticize my politics?
State your views and run the risks!
Snicker not like ruthless folk!
Never make a regal, most illegal, truth-less joke!
Your sovereign Lord's renown deserves a strict display
of honor free from calumny and false hearsay.
My cardinal rule: Never act the fool.
Never add more fuel to ridicule.
So, never, ever criticize me! Me! Me!
Criticize wit! That I permit,
but never, ever criticize me! Me! Me!
Me! Me! Me! Me! Me! etc.
Never, ever criticize... me!

v.  The Weavers

Emperor:
My faithful vassals, ye steadfast citizens, dear subjects.
How do you like the style?
Isn’t this just unique?
What flair! Am I not chic?
Fashionable? So refined?
Sumptuous? Á la mode?
Yet elegant? Am I not all the rage and style?

Duke:
Oh, yes!

Duchess:
Yes, yes! In vogue and quite the thing!

Lady Largebottom:
…and quite the thing!

Emperor:
 

You’re so behind the times!
So behind the times!
This is so yesterday!
In most every way!
But you’ll see with astonishment,
My aristocracy, a miracle!
I will be all the rage!
I will take center stage,
A megastar and more by far!
In this world and its fashion industry
I am quite sure that we must believe in haute couture.
I have auditioned and, yes, have commissioned
A wardrobe wondrous rare and fine:
Fresh and bright, befitting my position
And, in addition, magical in its design.

 

[ Two weavers are brought out of the Emperor's entourage. They begin a "sales pitch" as they set up a loom with "invisible" threads. ]

 

First Weaver:
Your majesty, m'Lords and Ladies,
we have mastered the art of weaving the most magnificent cloth.
A fabric not only so splendid to behold,
in every drape and fold,
but with the marvelous, surprising quality of being invisible
to all who are unfit for their jobs.
Ineffectual, feeble, or weak, gullible, deficient, or daft,
Susceptible to bribery and graft, unethical, shady, or vile….

Emperor:
How clever to be ever aware without inquest or trial.

First Weaver:
Quite right.

[The Emperor and aristocrats pretend to understand, and try to outdo each other, even in assisting in holding the imaginary cloth. The Privy Councilor watches with suspicion.]

 

First Weaver:
Some folks weave a tale, while others weave designs.
We create the veil where magic intertwines.

First Weaver/Second Weaver:
We're weavers weaving magic! Magic!
Weavers weaving, conceiving needlepoint,
the counterpoint to weaving, weaving magic! Magic!
Weavers weaving magic!

Second Weaver:
Wizards weave a spell, and gossips weave caprice.
We spin out and sell from Jason's golden fleece.

First Weaver/Second Weaver:
We're weavers weaving magic! Magic!
Weavers weaving, perceiving stitchery's’
own witchery by weavers weaving magic! Magic!
Weavers weaving magic!
We spin the gossamer threads, quite visible to you.
Invisible to dolts and clods, but visible to you.

Emperor:
I see them!

Duke:
And me!

Duchess:
And me!

First Weaver/Second Weaver:
We loom the exquisite cloth of rainbow reds and blues.
Invisible to miscreants, these vibrant, shining hues!

Emperor:
Stunning! Breath-taking!

Duke:
Ever so stunning!

Duchess:
Ever so breath-taking!

First Weaver:
Wise men savor style, while dullards never do.
We define style, all the while embroidering for you.

First Weaver/Second Weaver:
We're weavers, weaving magic! Magic!
Weavers weaving, believing greatness
shows itself in clothes of weavers, weaving magic!! Magic!
Weavers conceiving magic!
Magic! Magic! Indeed!

vi.  The Fitting

[The weavers erect a frame hung with a coarse cloth, behind which an impromptu fitting takes place.]

Emperor:
What fine clothes to have!
What style, distinction plus a test to tell the fool from the wise!
To the fitting!

First Weaver:
The fitting!

Emperor:
The fitting!

Second Weaver:
To the fitting!

 

[The weavers disappear behind the improvised screen, and await the Emperor who invites Lady Largebottom.]

Emperor:
A test! Dear Lady,
a moment, if you please?

[Lady Largebottom disappears with the Emperor and Weavers to the fitting.]

 

Duchess/Duke:
To hang by a thread from the fabric of life is daily the peril we face.
Thus, thereby the dread politic and the strife afflict us like rats in a race.
God help us preserve our distinction and rank, our status, our standing, our place.
Our privilege serves well to keenly outflank the censure of falling from grace.
What shame and disgrace to hang by a thread from the fabric of life.

 

[Lady Largebottom comes from behind the screen, pretending she has seen the new clothes.]

Minister-of-State:
Lady Largebottom!

Lady Largebottom:
As if in a dream before my eyes, I saw a vision so sublime!
A conceptual verity of the most uncommon kind!
I feel the euphoria of a revelation!

First Weaver/Second Weaver:
Very nice of you to say.

 

[The Duchess and Duke are “next.”]

Emperor:
What fun! Dear Duchess and Duke!
Come see what's to see!

Lady Largebottom/Minister-of-State:
To toil in a mansion of crystalline glass is scrutiny beyond compare.
The stone-thrower's plan - show distinction by class - is shattering beyond repair!
God help us preserve our position and rank. Our status, our standing, our place.
Our privilege serves well to keenly outflank the censure of falling from grace.
What shame and disgrace to hang by a thread from the fabric of life.

 

[The Duchess and Duke return, feigning great excitement.]

Duchess/Duke:
We've seen it! We've seen it! Like nothing before!
Like nothing we've seen! There is no metaphor!
Substantial the subtlety "par excellence!"
Unparalleled praise, the proper response!
There's nothing quite like it!
No, nothing quite like it!
There's nothing quite like it!
Oh, no! We've seen it!
Believe me, we've seen it for sure!

For sure!

First Weaver/Second Weaver:
Very nice of you to say.

Emperor:
Dear Minister, come!
The State awaits!

 

[The Minister-of-State disappears behind the screen.]

Duchess/Lady Largebottom/Duke:
Uncertain our yarn in this tapestry's plan, though cunning and earnest our schemes.
Impersonal politics works as it can its Machiavellian themes.
God, help us...

 

[The Minister-of-State bursts out from behind the screen, in great distress.]

Privy Councilor:
God help us!

Minister-of-State:
God help me!
I've seen nothing at all!
Nothing but the Emperor himself!
No clothes to hide his regal, royal parts.
Uncovered, unclad underneath!
Oh, am I untrustworthy? Worthy of naught?
Am I unable to see what I ought?
Am I unfit? Unenlightened, or what?
Tasteless? Slow-witted? Or merely distraught?
Ah!

 

[ The Privy Councilor asserts his wisdom with a sure hand. ]

Privy Councilor:
Say nothing without knowing what you are expected to say!
Follow my lead! And smile!

vii.  The Councilor's Advice

 

[to the assemblage]

Take no notice....

[to the Minister-of-State]

(make no notice...)

...what has here occurred. Life is most absurd.
What can be inferred when the meaning's blurred?
What is in a word?
As, for example...
Who can handle "love?" Who can prove its fact?
What we're thinking of exists in the abstract.
So, is it real?
Consider these examples:
"Trust" is not a thing fashioned out of clay.
"Truth," to which we cling, evaporates away.
Disarray rules the day.
What's the appeal behind an ideal?
Who knows what's real?
Whose reality houses gospel truths?
When two disagree, which one's truth shall lose?
And what can "truth" conceal?
And should we pose the query?
Should we ask why?
Philosophers dream theory. What pie in the sky!
There's a better reply...
It's politics that does the work by dirtying its hands,
and politics will never shirk. It's built on shifting sands.
Politics does as fate demands.
My politics sees many sides. It changes like the wind.
It rhetoric flows with the tides, unfixed, yet disciplined.
It is not easily chagrined.
And what's the harm in "make believe?"
In that which is unreal?
Deceptive truth can now reveal that honest lies are real!
Really truly real!
Through politics, we plainly see... not all agree.
Whose reality is real?
For the sake of your careers...
take no notice!
Please!

vii.  A Royal Approval

 

[The Emperor shows only his head from behind the changing screen, and announces his opinion of the new clothes.]

Emperor:

Wonderful! Councilor! I’ll be ready shortly!
For the weavers’ meritorious art, I grant them both titles
In the order of Knights of the Regal Robes!

[The weavers accept their awards and bag of coins from the Minister-of-State, and quickly exit.]
 

Ready or not!
Here I come!

ix.  Fanfare and Rondeau Reprise

[The Emperor parades himself in his royal underwear, at best....]

x.  The Unveiling

Emperor:
Before I address the nation, dressed in this latest creation, let's hear your views.

Lady Largebottom:
Sire.... Sire.... You've un-... unveiled!
You've unveiled a most individual attire.

Emperor:
Unveiled?

Duchess:
Sire, sire, your style is revealingly displayed.

Emperor:
Revealingly displayed?

Duke:
Sire, how well you expose your choice in apparel!

Emperor:
How well I expose?

Minister-of-State:
Sire, you lay bare an evident...

Emperor:
Evident?

Minister-of-State:
...intimate...

Emperor:
Intimate?

Minister-of-State:
...obvious, bold exhibition of... of...
Of nothing at all!

Emperor:
Nothing at all?
You’re so behind the times!
You see nothing?
Really nothing?
At all?
Councilor, what’s your review?
I am well dressed?
Tell me true?

Privy Councilor:
As political counsel, I respond: What say you?
Tell me, sire, what say you?

Emperor:
Stand I unclothed before my retinue?

Privy Councilor:
I'll tell you true! It's quite a view!

Together:
Unclad, uncovered, unclothed, undressed at best.

Emperor:
I'm distressed!

Duchess/Lady Largebottom:
What a jest.

Together:
Ho-ho-ho! Ha-ha-ha!
Ho-ho-ho-ho! Ha! etc.

xi.  A Velvet Revolution

Emperor:
Oh! What have I done?
I myself am unfit!
Humiliated, I must admit!
Oh! Abbreviated in underwear.
My loyal courtiers have seen me bare!
I've no choice but to step down.
I wear the crown, but act the clown!

Privy Councilor:

[Offering the Emperor a robe.]
Sire, may I suggest a cover-up?

Emperor:
There's no choice! I abdicate my crown!

Privy Councilor:
Not so fast! There's much to discuss.
For one thing, the matter of us.
What about the aristocracy?

Duchess:
We must protect our privilege before this empire falls!

Duke:
We must not teeter on the edge, nor risk our wherewithals.

Lady Largebottom:
This nation has always filled our wants, and built our palace walls.

Minister-of-State:
That must not ever pass away in revolution's squalls.

Privy Councilor:
The solution is obvious! Just you wait and see!

Together:
What shall we do?

Privy Councilor:
We must form a Parliament! One House in which we rule!
Another House for commoners. Let them take ridicule!
Let the press make them the fool!
Sire, we need a figurehead. A figurehead of state!
Powerless, of course. Someone stylish to open Parliament. You must not abdicate!
Democratic government will serve us as a tool.
The concept is a masterstroke: a jurisdiction who'll
help us preserve our position and rank. Our status, our standing, our place.

Duchess/Lady Largebottom/Duke/Minister-of-State:
And we pray that God grant us a nation of folk that will blankly validate what we embrace!
They'll help us conserve our position and rank. Our eminence, status and grace.
Democracy's fortunes will feed us, and, frankly, favor our odds in the race.
This odd human race will....

 

Emperor:
Might I play the part?

Privy Councilor:
Yes, m'Lord.
Costumes befitting your starring role!

Emperor:
Oh, good. I'm so glad!
I possess the art!
Let us start!

Privy Councilor:
Wait, m'Lord.
Acting requires self-control.

Emperor:

Self-control?
I shall...

Privy Councilor:
You shall...

Tutti:
...help us preserve our position and lofty place.

Privy Councilor:
Lords and Ladies, shall we vote to subsidize the Emperor's new clothes?

 

Copyright © 1994, 2012 Gary Bachlund