By Hans Christian Andersen

Long ago, there was a great emperor in China. He lived in a beautiful palace. The palace was famous all over the world. It was made of fine white porcelain. The walls shone in the sunlight, and the rooms were full of expensive things.

Around the palace, there was a large garden. There were many colorful flowers, tall trees, and small lakes. Little silver bells hung from some of the flowers. When the wind blew, the bells made a soft, sweet sound.

The garden was so large that even the gardeners did not know where it ended.

Beyond the garden, there was a deep green forest. Beyond the forest, there was the blue sea. Fishermen worked there every day.

In the forest lived a small grey bird. She was a nightingale.

The nightingale was not beautiful to look at. Her feathers were plain and simple. But she had the most beautiful voice in the world.

Every evening, she sang among the trees.

When fishermen heard her song, they stopped their work for a moment.

“How wonderful!” they said.

Then they returned to their boats and continued working.

People came from many countries to visit the emperor’s city.

They admired the palace. They admired the garden. They admired the sea.

But when they heard the nightingale sing, they always said the same thing.

“The nightingale is the most wonderful thing in China.”

Many visitors wrote books about their travels.

They described the city. They described the palace. They described the garden.

And they always wrote about the little bird with the beautiful voice.

One day, one of these books reached the emperor. The emperor sat in his golden chair and began to read. He smiled as he read about his city. He smiled as he read about his palace. He smiled as he read about his garden.

Then he read these words:

“The most wonderful thing in China is the nightingale.”

The emperor stopped reading.

“The nightingale?” he said.

“What nightingale?”

He read the sentence again.

“The most wonderful thing in China is the nightingale.”

The emperor looked surprised.

“I have never heard of this bird,” he said.

“How can there be such a famous bird in my country if I know nothing about it?”

He immediately called one of his important servants. The servant hurried into the room and bowed.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Tell me about the nightingale,” said the emperor.

The servant looked confused.

“The nightingale?” he asked.

“Yes,” said the emperor.

“The bird with the beautiful song.”

The servant shook his head.

“I am sorry, Your Majesty. I have never heard of her.”

The emperor frowned.

“That is impossible,” he said.

“People all over the world know about this bird, but nobody in my palace knows her.”

He stood up.

“I want to hear the nightingale sing tonight.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said the servant.

“Then go and find her.”

The servant left quickly.

He searched everywhere in the palace. He asked the ministers. He asked the guards. He asked the musicians. He asked the gardeners.

Nobody knew anything about the nightingale. At last, the servant returned to the emperor.

“I cannot find her,” he said.

The emperor became angry.

“You cannot find the most famous bird in my country?”

The servant felt nervous. Then he had an idea.

“I will search outside the palace,” he said.

So he left again.

This time, many servants went with him. They searched through the city.

They asked shopkeepers. They asked travelers. They asked workers. Most people did not know. Then they met a young kitchen girl.

She carried a basket of food.

“Excuse me,” said the servant.

“Have you ever heard of a bird called the nightingale?”

The girl smiled immediately.

“Of course,” she said.

“I hear her every evening.”

The servant looked excited.

“You do?”

“Yes,” said the girl.

“My mother is sick and lives near the sea.”

“Every evening, I take food to her.”

“On my way home, I walk through the forest.”

“That is where the nightingale sings.”

Her eyes became bright.

“She sings so beautifully that tears come to my eyes.”

The servant was amazed.

“Can you take us to her?”

“Yes,” said the girl.

“I can.”

They Admired the City, The Palace, And the Garden

So the servant, the kitchen girl, and many palace servants walked toward the forest.

The sun was beginning to set. The air was cool and fresh. As they walked, they heard a cow making a loud sound.

“Moo!”

“There she is!” cried one servant.

“That must be the nightingale!”

The kitchen girl laughed.

“No,” she said.

“That is only a cow.”

The servants felt embarrassed. A little later, they heard frogs in a pond.

“Croak! Croak!”

“There she is now!” another servant said.

The kitchen girl smiled again.

“No,” she replied.

“Those are frogs.”

The group continued walking. Soon they entered the forest. The trees were tall and green. The evening sky was turning orange.

Then a sweet sound filled the air. Everyone stopped. The music was soft and beautiful. It seemed to come from everywhere at once.

The kitchen girl pointed to a branch.

“There she is,” she whispered.

The servants looked up. They saw a small grey bird. She did not look special. She was not colorful. She was not large. She was only a simple bird.

“Is that the famous nightingale?” one servant asked.

“She looks so ordinary.”

The kitchen girl nodded.

“Listen to her song.”

The servants listened carefully. Soon their eyes grew wide. The song was beautiful. It was even more beautiful than they had imagined.

The servant stepped forward.

“Dear Nightingale,” he said politely.

“Our emperor wishes to hear you sing.”

The bird stopped singing for a moment.

“The emperor?” she asked.

“Yes,” said the servant.

“He would like you to come to the palace tonight.”

The nightingale looked toward the sky. Then she smiled.

“If my song can make someone happy,” she said, “I will come.”

The servants cheered with joy. They had finally found the wonderful bird. And that night, the nightingale began her journey to the emperor’s palace.

What would happen when the emperor finally heard her famous song?

Chapter 2 – The Real Nightingale at the Palace

The emperor’s palace was brighter than ever that evening. Servants hurried through the halls. They cleaned the floors. They polished the furniture. They lit hundreds of golden lamps. Beautiful flowers were placed in every room.

Everyone was excited. The emperor was waiting to hear the famous nightingale. In the largest hall of the palace, a golden perch stood near the emperor’s throne.

This special place was prepared for the little bird.

The emperor sat proudly on his throne. Around him stood ministers, servants, musicians, and important guests. Everyone wore their finest clothes.

The kitchen girl was also there. As a reward for helping find the nightingale, she was allowed to stand near the door and watch.

At last, the doors opened. The little grey bird entered the hall. Many people looked surprised.

“Is that really the famous nightingale?” one guest whispered.

“She is so small.”

“She looks very ordinary.”

The nightingale heard the words, but she did not feel upset. She quietly flew to the golden perch.

The emperor smiled.

“Welcome, little nightingale,” he said kindly.

“I have heard many wonderful things about you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said the bird.

“I am happy to be here.”

The emperor nodded.

“Please sing for us.”

The nightingale bowed her head.

Then she began to sing. At once, the hall became silent. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. The song was gentle and sweet.

It flowed through the room like a soft river. The music seemed to tell stories.

Some people imagined green forests. Others imagined the blue sea.

Some remembered happy days from their childhood.

The song touched every heart.

The emperor listened carefully. Soon tears appeared in his eyes. A tear rolled down his cheek.

The nightingale saw it. She sang even more beautifully.

The hall was filled with emotion. When the song ended, nobody spoke for a moment.

Then everyone began to clap. The emperor stood up.

“Wonderful!” he cried.

“Beautiful!”

“This is the most lovely music I have ever heard.”

The guests agreed. The ministers agreed. The servants agreed. Everyone smiled.

The emperor looked at the nightingale.

“I want to reward you,” he said.

“I will give you my golden slippers.”

The nightingale shook her head.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she replied.

“But I do not need gold.”

The emperor looked surprised.

“You do not?”

“No,” said the bird.

“I have already received the greatest reward.”

“What reward?” asked the emperor.

The nightingale smiled.

“I saw tears in your eyes.”

“That tells me that my song touched your heart.”

“That is worth more than gold.”

The emperor was deeply moved.

“You are a very wise bird,” he said.

“Please sing again.”

The nightingale happily sang another song. This song was brighter and more cheerful.

People smiled. Some laughed softly. Others closed their eyes and listened.

When the song ended, the emperor made an important decision.

“I want the nightingale to stay here in the palace,” he announced.

Everyone clapped again. The nightingale was surprised.

“Stay here?” she asked.

“Yes,” said the emperor.

“You will be my special singer.”

“You will have your own room.”

“You will have servants to care for you.”

“You will have everything you need.”

The nightingale wanted to be polite.

“Thank you,” she said.

“If it makes you happy, I will stay.”

The emperor was delighted.

For many days, the nightingale lived in the palace. People came from far away to hear her sing. Every evening, she sang for the emperor and his guests.

Soon, everyone in the city was talking about her. When people met in the streets, they often spoke about only one thing.

“The nightingale.”

Children talked about her. Workers talked about her. Merchants talked about her. Even travelers from distant lands came to hear her voice.

The nightingale became more famous every day.

But life in the palace was very different from life in the forest. In the forest, she could fly wherever she wanted.

She could sit beside the sea. She could rest among the trees. She could sing to the wind and the stars.

In the palace, things were not the same. Servants watched her all the time. They worried that she might fly away.

Whenever she left her cage, attendants followed her. Sometimes they even tied a soft silk ribbon to her leg.

They wanted to keep her safe. But the nightingale did not feel free.

One evening, she sat near a palace window. She looked outside. Far away, she could see the dark forest.

The trees moved gently in the wind. The moon shone above them. The nightingale felt something in her heart.

She missed the forest. She missed the sea. She missed the fishermen who listened to her songs. She missed the freedom of the open sky.

The kitchen girl noticed the bird’s sad face.

“You look unhappy,” she said softly.

The nightingale smiled.

“The emperor is kind,” she said.

“And everyone here treats me well.”

“But I miss my home.”

The girl nodded.

“I understand.”

“The forest is your home.”

“Yes,” said the nightingale.

“My songs are happiest there.”

The girl looked at the stars.

“Maybe one day you can visit again.”

“Perhaps,” said the nightingale.

The next day, the emperor invited important visitors from another country. The hall was full once again. The nightingale sang beautifully.

The visitors were amazed.

“This bird is incredible,” they said.

“We have never heard such music.”

The emperor felt proud.

“My nightingale is the finest singer in the world,” he said.

The nightingale smiled politely. But deep inside, she still missed the forest. She still missed her freedom.

That night, after everyone had gone to sleep, the little bird sat quietly near the open window.

A cool wind entered the room. Far away, she heard the sound of waves. Then she heard the soft whisper of the trees.

The forest seemed to be calling her. The nightingale looked out into the darkness.

Something important was about to change. And soon, a surprising gift from another country would arrive at the palace.

Chapter 3

The Chief Imperial Nightingale Bringer

‘Pish!’ said he, and shook his head.

Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his magnificent bed; all the court believed him to be already dead, and every one had{185} hastened away to greet the new Emperor; the men ran out for a little gossip on the subject, and the maids were having a grand coffee-party.

The floors of all the rooms and passages were covered with cloth, in order that not a step should be heard—it was everywhere so still! so still! But the Emperor was not yet dead; stiff and pale he lay in his splendid bed, with the long velvet curtains, and heavy gold tassels. A window was opened above, and the moon shone down on the Emperor and the artificial bird.

The poor Emperor could scarcely breathe; it appeared to him as though something was sitting on his chest; he opened his eyes, and saw that it was Death, who had put on the Emperor’s crown, and with one hand held the golden scimitar, with the other the splendid imperial banner; whilst, from under the folds of the thick velvet hangings, the strangest-looking heads were seen peering forth; some with an expression absolutely hideous, and others with an extremely gentle and lovely aspect: they were the bad and good deeds of the Emperor, which were now all fixing their eyes upon him, whilst Death sat on his heart.

‘Dost thou know this?’ they whispered one after another. ‘Dost thou remember that?’ And they began reproaching him in such a manner that the sweat broke out upon his forehead.

‘I have never known anything like it,’ said the Emperor. ‘Music, music, the great Chinese drum!’ cried he; ‘let me not hear what they are saying.’

They went on, however; and Death, quite in the Chinese fashion, nodded his head to every word.

‘Music, music!’ cried the Emperor. ‘Thou dear little artificial bird! sing, I pray thee, sing!—I have given thee gold and precious stones, I have even hung my golden slippers round thy neck—sing, I pray thee, sing!’

But the bird was silent; there was no one there to wind him up, and he could not sing without this. Death continued to stare at the Emperor with his great hollow eyes! and everywhere it was still, fearfully still!

All at once the sweetest song was heard from the window; it was the little living nightingale who was sitting on a branch outside—she had heard of her Emperor’s severe illness, and was come to sing to him of comfort and hope. As she sang, the spectral forms became paler and paler, the blood flowed more and more quickly through the Emperor’s feeble members, and even Death listened and said, ‘Go on, little nightingale, go on.’

‘Wilt thou give me the splendid gold scimitar? Wilt thou give me the gay banner, and the Emperor’s crown?’

And Death gave up all these treasures for a song; and the nightingale sang on: she sang of the quiet churchyard, where white roses blossom, where the lilac sends forth its fragrance, and the fresh grass is bedewed with the tears of the sorrowing friends of the departed. Then Death was seized with a longing after his garden, and like a cold white shadow, flew out at the window.

‘Thanks, thanks,’ said the Emperor, ‘thou heavenly little bird, I know thee well. I have banished thee from my realm, and thou hast sung away those evil faces from my bed, and Death from my heart; how shall I reward thee?’

‘Thou hast already rewarded me,’ said the nightingale; ‘I have seen tears in thine eyes, as when I sang to thee for the first time: those I shall never forget, they are jewels which do so much good to a minstrel’s heart! but sleep now, and wake fresh and healthy; I will sing thee to sleep.’

And she sang—and the Emperor fell into a sweet sleep. Oh, how soft and kindly was that sleep!

The sun shone in at the window when he awoke, strong and healthy. Not one of his servants had returned, for they all believed him dead; but the nightingale still sat and sang.

He Was Quite as Successful as The Real Nightingale

‘Thou shalt always stay with me,’ said the Emperor, ‘thou shalt only sing when it pleases thee, and the artificial bird I will break into a thousand pieces.’

‘Do not so,’ said the nightingale; ‘truly he has done what he could; take care of him. I cannot stay in the palace; but let me come when I like: I will sit on the branches close to the window, in the evening, and sing to thee, that thou mayest become happy and thoughtful. I will sing to thee of the joyful and the sorrowing, I will sing to thee of all that is good or bad, which is concealed from thee. The little minstrel flies afar to the fisherman’s hut, to the peasant’s cottage, to all who are far distant from thee and thy court. I love thy heart more than thy crown, and yet the crown has an odour of something holy about it. I will come, I will sing. But thou must promise me one thing.’

‘Everything,’ said the Emperor. And now he stood in his imperial splendour, which he had put on himself, and held the scimitar so heavy with gold to his heart. ‘One thing I beg of thee: let no one know that thou hast a little bird, who tells thee everything, then all will go on well.’ And the nightingale flew away.

The attendants came in to look at their dead Emperor. Lo! there they stood—and the Emperor said, ‘Good-morning!’

— THE END –

Source: www.gutenberg.org

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