The Sovereign's Fresh Duds

A long, long time ago, sometime between the death of Alexander the Great and the birth of my Great Aunt Tabitha, there was a little-known kingdom named Little Cattywampus, ruled over by an even lesser-known king named Snollygoster the Third. King Snollygoster (the Third) was the sort of king who would have gone down in history except that he got lost halfway down the ladder and accidentally climbed back up again.

Many a strange and interesting occurrence took place in the kingdom of Little Cattywampus, but nothing so strange or interesting as the incident of the Sovereign's Fresh Duds. This is what happened:

Early in the morning, on the first of June, two strangers came to the kingdom of Little Cattywampus. They were not strangers in the sense of being a little more odd than "Strange" but not quite so bizarre to fall into the category of "Strangest," but rather they were strangers in the sense that no-one in the kingdom had ever laid eyes on them before.

These strangers claimed to be expert weavers and quickly set about proving their claim by weaving their way into the castle where they wove King Snollygoster (the Third) a strange and interesting story.

They began by threading the needle with a few strands of flattery. "O King, us humble but expert weavers have travelled far and wide, and everywhere we go we have heard nothing but stories of your nobility and greatness."

They prepared the thread. "We know the secret to weaving the finest garments imaginable. Garments made of a special cloth that shimmers with every colour of the rainbow, that glistens with every hue of midnight and the first rays of dawn. Cloth that cannot be seen by the eyes of imbeciles."

They then thrust the needle into the fabric. "Just think of it, great King, not only will you look resplendent, but you will also be able to weed out any and all undesirables that have taken root in your beautiful Kingdom."

Needless to say, when something sounds too good to be true, it usually is, but that particular idiom hadn't been invented yet, so the king fell for their lies hook line and sinker (an idiom that most certainly had been invented by then).

So the expert weavers did what they did best—they wove an elaborate illusion and not much else. Then they took their payment in gold and wove their way out of the kingdom, leaving King Snollygoster (the Third) with nothing but a naked mannequin and a growing sense of dread.After a few moments of awkwardly staring at a garment that was quite clearly not there, the king's favourite courtier cleared his throat. "Would your highness like me to send out some men to track those weavers down?"

The king did not know what to say.

Unfortunately, the royal jester did.

"Why? It looks perfect to me!" Despite being a fool by trade, the jester had not been fooled by the weaver's lies. In truth, all she saw was the perfect opportunity for a good laugh at the king's expense. "It's just as they said, innit? Can't you see all the colours of the rainbow? The sheen of midnight and the glimmer of dawn?"

"Oh, er, yes," the poor king stammered, fearing for his reputation. "I can see it. Of course I can see it. Those rays of midnight and, uh, rainbows of dawn. Can you see it, Favourite Courtier?" Now the courtier was a truthful but clever sort of chap. Truthful enough not to lie to his king. Clever enough to know it would be unwise to reveal the truth. "I am not an imbecile," he answered both truthfully and cleverly.

The king was about to suggest he put the garment away and only wear it on very, very special occasions when suddenly the jester jingled up to the mannequin and mimed taking something from it.

"Let's get you dressed right away, sire!" she cried. "Let's hold a special parade through the streets so that everyone in the kingdom can see you in your fresh new duds!"And so that is what happened.

Now the people of Little Cattywampus were, in general, an honest bunch, loyal to their king and thoughtful of others. But as word got around, most of them decided they valued their own reputation over reality, preferring to honour their king's feelings over preserving his dignity. And so they dutifully applauded and cheered their bare monarch on with varying degrees of enthusiasm and well-meaningness.

There were some who, by some strange power of the imagination, began to see a manifestation of the clothes that weren't there, while others decided they too wanted to parade around au naturel, forcing the lawyers of the Kingdom to have some very awkward conversations regarding the laws on public indecency.

Of course, there were some who made the mistake of wondering aloud why people were pretending like the king wasn't as naked as the day he was born, but they were quickly silenced. After all, who would listen to such imbeciles?

Finally, a little boy named Erinaceous Grubbins stepped out in front of the parade to offer his jacket to the naked sovereign.

"What's this?" asked King Snollygoster (the Third).

"It's a jacket," the little boy patiently explained. "It's a thing you wear when it gets cold. I thought you might be cold, going around without no clothes on and all."

Whatever happened to little Erinaceous Grubbins after that? Historians agree that they don't exactly know. Some say he was quickly carted off to prison, never to be heard of again. Some say he was let off on a technicality due to his use of a double negative. Still others say he went on to lead Little Cattywampus' second most peculiar revolution. The truth, whatever it may be, has long since been lost to the beaches of time. But perhaps the most important thing isn't how the story ended, but rather what we can learn from it.