引导语：夜莺这篇安徒生童话故事，大家阅读与学习过？主要讲了什么？我们一起来阅读下文了解。
你大概知道，在中国，皇帝是一个中国人;他周围的人也是中国人。这故事是许多年以前发生的;但是正因为这个缘故，在人们没有忘记它以前，值得听一听。这位皇帝的宫殿是世界上最华丽的，完全用细致的瓷砖砌成，价值非常高，不过非常脆薄，如果你想摸摸它，你必须万分当心。人们在御花园里可以看到世界上最珍奇的花儿。那些最名贵的花上都系着银铃，好使得走过的人一听到铃声就不得不注意这些花儿。是的，皇帝花园里的一切东西都布置得非常精巧。花园是那么大，连园丁都不知道它的尽头是在什么地方。如果一个人不停地向前走，他可以碰到一个茂密的树林，里面有根高的树，还有很深的湖。树林一直伸展到蔚蓝色的、深沉的海那儿去。巨大的船只可以在树枝底下航行。树林里住着一只夜莺。它的歌唱得非常美妙，连一个忙碌的穷苦渔夫在夜间出去收网的时候，一听到这夜莺的歌唱，也不得不停下来欣赏一下。
“我的天，唱得多么美啊!”他说。但是他不得不去做他的工作，所以只好把这鸟儿忘掉。不过第二天晚上，这鸟儿又唱起来了。渔夫听到歌声的时候，不禁又同样地说，“我的天，唱得多么美啊!”
世界各国的旅行家都到这位皇帝的首都来，欣赏这座皇城、宫殿和花园。不过当他们听到夜莺歌唱的时候，他们都说：“这是最美的东西!”
这些旅行家回到本国以后，就谈论着这件事情。于是许多学者写了大量关于皇城、宫殿和花园的书籍，那些会写诗的人还写了许多最美丽的诗篇，歌颂这只住在树林里的夜莺。
这些书流行到全世界。有几本居然流行到皇帝手里。他坐在他的金椅子上，读了又读：每一秒钟点一次头，因为那些关于皇城、宫殿和花园的细致的描写使他读起来感到非常舒服。“不过夜莺是这一切东西中最美的东西，”这句话清清楚楚地摆在他面前。
“这是怎么一回事儿?”皇帝说。“夜莺!我完全不知道有这只夜莺!我的帝国里有这只鸟儿吗?而且它还居然就在我的花园里面?我从来没有听到过这回事儿!这件事情我只能在书本上读到!”
于是他把他的侍臣召进来。这是一位高贵的人物。任何比他渺小一点的人，只要敢于跟他讲话或者问他一件什么事情，他一向只是简单地回答一声，“呸!”——这个字眼是任何意义也没有的。
“据说这儿有一只叫夜莺的奇异的鸟儿啦!”皇帝说。“人们都说它是我的伟大帝国里一件最珍贵的东西。为什么从来没有人在我面前提起过呢?”
“我从来没有听到过它的名字，”侍臣说。“从来没有人把它进贡到宫里来!”
“我命令：今晚必须把它弄来，在我面前唱唱歌。”皇帝说。“全世界都知道我有什么好东西，而我自己却不知道!”
“我从来没有听到过它的名字，”侍臣说。“我得去找找它!我得去找找它!”
不过到什么地方去找它呢?这位侍臣在台阶上走上走下，在大厅和长廊里跑来跑去，但是他所遇到的人都说没有听到过有什么夜莺。这位侍臣只好跑回到皇帝那儿去，说这一定是写书的人捏造的一个神话。
陛下请不要相信书上所写的东西。这些东西大都是无稽之谈——也就是所谓‘胡说八道’罢了。”
“不过我读过的那本书，”皇帝说，“是日本国的那位威武的皇帝送来的，因此它决不能是捏造的。我要听听夜莺歌唱!今晚必须把它弄到这儿来!我下圣旨叫它来!如果它今晚来不了，宫里所有的人，一吃完晚饭就要在肚皮上结结实实地挨几下!”
“钦佩①!”侍臣说。于是他又在台阶上走上走下，在大厅和长廊里跑来跑去。宫里有一半的人在跟着他乱跑，因为大家都不愿意在肚皮上挨揍。
于是他们便开始一种大规模的调查工作，调查这只奇异的夜莺——这只除了宫廷的人以外、大家全都知道的夜莺。
最后他们在厨房里碰见一个穷苦的小女孩。她说：
“哎呀，老天爷，原来你们要找夜莺!我跟它再熟悉不过，它唱得很好听。每天晚上大家准许我把桌上剩下的一点儿饭粒带回家去，送给我可怜的生病的母亲——她住在海岸旁边。当我在回家的路上走得疲倦了的时候，我就在树林里休息一会儿，那时我就听到夜莺唱歌。这时我的眼泪就流出来了，我觉得好像我的母亲在吻我似的!”
“小丫头!”侍臣说，”我将设法在厨房里为你弄一个固定的职位，还要使你得到看皇上吃饭的特权。但是你得把我们带到夜莺那儿去，因为它今晚得在皇上面前表演一下。”
这样他们就一齐走到夜莺经常唱歌的那个树林里去。宫里一半的人都出动了。当他们正在走的时候，一头母牛开始叫起来。
“呀!”一位年轻的贵族说，“现在我们可找到它了!这么一个小的动物，它的声音可是特别洪亮!我以前在什么地方听到过这声音。”
“错了，这是牛叫!”厨房的小女佣人说。”我们离那块地方还远着呢。”
接着，沼泽里的青蛙叫起来了。
中国的宫廷祭司说：“现在我算是听到它了——它听起来像庙里的小小钟声。”
“错了，这是青蛙的叫声!”厨房小女佣人说。“不过，我想很快我们就可以听到夜莺歌唱了。”
于是夜莺开始唱起来。
“这才是呢!”小女佣人说：“听啊，听啊!它就栖在那儿。”
她指着树枝上一只小小的灰色鸟儿。
“这个可能吗?”侍臣说。“我从来就没有想到它是那么一副样儿!你们看它是多么平凡啊!这一定是因为它看到有这么多的官员在旁，吓得失去了光彩的缘故。”
“小小的夜莺!”厨房的小女佣人高声地喊，“我们仁慈的皇上希望你到他面前去唱唱歌呢。”
“我非常高兴!”夜莺说，于是它唱出动听的歌来。
“这声音像玻璃钟响!”侍臣说。“你们看，它的小歌喉唱得多么好!说来也稀奇，我们过去从未没有听到过它。这鸟儿到宫里去一定会逗得大家喜欢!”
“还要我再在皇上面前唱一次吗?”夜莺问，因为它以为皇帝在场。
“我的绝顶好的个夜莺啊!”侍臣说，“我感到非常荣幸，命令你到宫里去参加一个晚会。你得用你美妙的歌喉去娱乐圣朝的皇上。”
“我的歌只有在绿色的树林里才唱得最好!”夜莺说。不过，当它听说皇帝希望见它的时候，它还是去了。
宫殿被装饰得焕然一新。瓷砖砌的墙和铺的地，在无数金灯的光中闪闪发亮。那些挂着银铃的、最美丽的花朵，现在都被搬到走廊上来了。走廊里有许多人跑来跑去，卷起一阵微风，使所有的银铃都丁当丁当地响起来，弄得人们连自己说话都听不见。
在皇帝坐着的大殿中央，人们竖起了一根金制的栖柱，好使夜莺能栖在上面。整个宫廷的人都来了，厨房里的那个小女佣人也得到许可站在门后侍候——因为她现在得到了一个真正“厨仆”的称号。大家都穿上了最好的衣服。大家都望着这只灰色的小鸟，皇帝在对它点头。
于是这夜莺唱了——唱得那么美妙，连皇帝都流出眼泪来。一直流到脸上。当夜莺唱得更美妙的时候，它的歌声就打动了皇帝的心弦。皇帝显得那么高兴，他甚至还下了一道命令，叫把他的金拖鞋挂在这只鸟儿的脖颈上。不过夜莺谢绝了，说它所得到的报酬已经够多了。
“我看到了皇上眼里的泪珠——这对于我说来是最宝贵的东西。皇上的眼泪有一种特别的力量。上帝知道，我得到的报酬已经不少了!”于是它用甜蜜幸福的声音又唱了一次。
“这种逗人爱的撒娇我们简直没有看见过!”在场的一些宫女们说。当人们跟她们讲话的时候，她们自己就故意把水倒到嘴里，弄出咯咯的响声来：她们以为她们也是夜莺。小厮和丫环们也发表意见，说他们也很满意——这种评语是不很简单的，因为他们是最不容易得到满足的一些人物。一句话：夜莺获得了极大的成功。
夜莺现在要在宫里住下来，要有它自己的笼子了——它现在只有白天出去两次和夜间出去一次散步的自由。每次总有十二个仆人跟着。他们牵着系在它腿上的一根丝线——而且他们老是拉得很紧。像这样的出游并不是一件轻松愉快的事情。
整个京城里的人都在谈论着这只奇异的鸟儿，当两个人遇见的时候，一个只须说：“夜，”另一个就接着说“莺”②)于是他们就互相叹一口气，彼此心照不宣。有十一个做小贩的孩子都起了“夜莺”这个名字，不过他们谁也唱不出一个调子来。
有一天皇帝收到了一个大包裹，上面写着“夜莺”两个字。
“这又是一本关于我们这只名鸟的书!”皇帝说。
不过这并不是一本书;而是一件装在盒子里的工艺品——只人造的夜莺。它跟天生的夜莺一模一样，不过它全身装满了钻石、红玉和青玉。这只人造的鸟儿，只要它的发条上好，就能唱出一曲那只真夜莺所唱的歌;它的尾巴上上下下地动着，射出金色和银色的光来。它的脖颈上挂有一根小丝带，上面写道：“日本国皇帝的夜莺，比起中国皇帝的夜莺来，自然稍逊一筹。”
“它真是好看!”大家都说。送来这只人造夜莺的那人马上就获得了一个称号：“皇家首席夜莺使者”。现在让它们在一起唱吧，那将是多么好听的双重奏啊!”
这样，它们就得在一起唱了，不过这个办法却行不通，因为那只真正的夜莺只是按照自己的方式随意唱，而这只人造的鸟儿只能唱“华尔兹舞曲”那个老调。
现在这只人造的鸟儿只好单独唱了。它所获得的成功，比得上那只真正的夜莺;此外，它的外表却是漂亮得多——它闪耀得如同金手钏和领扣。
它把同样的调子唱了三十三次，而且还不觉得疲倦。大家都愿意继续听下去，不过皇帝说那只活的夜莺也应该唱点儿什么东西才好——可是它到什么地方去了呢?谁也没有注意到它已经飞出了窗子，回到它的青翠的树林里面去了。
“这是什么意思呢?”皇帝说。
所有的朝臣们都咒骂那只夜莺，说它是一个忘恩负义的东西。
“我们总算是有了一只最好的鸟了。”他们说。
因此那只人造的鸟儿又得唱起来了。他们把那个同样的曲调又听了第三十四次。虽然如此，他们还是记不住它，因为这是一个很难的曲调。乐师把这只鸟儿大大地称赞了一番。他很肯定地说，它比那只真的夜莺要好得多!不仅就它的羽毛和许多钻石来说，即使就它的内部来说，也是如此。
他还说：“淑女和绅士们，特别是皇上陛下，你们各位要知道，你们永远也猜不到一只真的夜莺会唱出什么歌来;然而在这只人造夜莺的身体里，一切早就安排好了，要它唱什么曲调。它就唱什么曲调!你可以把它拆开，可以看出它的内部活动：它的“华尔兹舞曲”是从什么地方起，到什么地方止，会有什么别他曲调接上来。”
“这正是我们的要求，”大家都说。
于是乐师就被批准下星期天把这只雀子公开展览，让民众看一下。皇帝说，老百姓也应该听听它的歌。他们后来也就听到了，也感到非常满意，愉快的程度正好像他们喝过了茶一样——因为吃茶是中国的习惯。他们都说：“哎!”同时举起食指，点点头。可是听到过真正的夜莺唱歌的那个渔夫说。
“它唱得倒也不坏，很像一只真鸟儿，不过它似乎总缺少了一种什么东西——虽然我不知道这究竟是什么!”
真正的夜莺从这土地和帝国被放逐出去了。
那只人造夜莺在皇帝床边的一块丝垫子上占了一个位置。它所得到的一切礼品——金子和宝石——都被陈列在它的周围。在称号方面，它已经被封为“高贵皇家夜间歌手”了。在等级上说来，它已经被提升到“左边第一”的位置，因为皇帝认为心房所在的左边是最重要的一边——即使是一个皇帝，他的心也是偏左的。乐师写了一部二十五卷关于这只人造鸟儿的书：这是一部学问渊博、篇幅很长、用那些最难懂的中国字写的一部书。大臣们说，他们都读过这部书，而且还懂得它的内容，因为他们都怕被认为是蠢才而在肚皮上挨揍。
整整一年过去了。皇帝、朝臣们以及其他的中国人都记得这只人造鸟儿所唱的歌中的每一个调儿。不过正因为现在大家都学会了：大家就更喜欢这只鸟儿了——大家现在可以跟它一起唱。街上的孩子们唱，吱-吱-吱-格碌-格碌!皇帝自己也唱起来——是的，这真是可爱得很!
不过一天晚上，当这只人造鸟儿在唱得最好的时候，当皇帝正躺在床上静听的时候，这只鸟儿的身体里面忽然发出一阵“咝咝”的声音来。有一件什么东西断了，“嘘——”突然，所有的轮子都狂转起来，于是歌声就停止了。
皇帝立即跳下床，命令把他的御医召进来。不过医生又能有什么办法呢，于是大家又去请一个钟表匠来。经过一番磋商和考查以后，他总算把这只鸟儿勉强修好了，不过他说，这只鸟儿今后必须仔细保护，因为它里面的齿轮已经用坏了，要配上新的而又能奏出音乐，是一件困难的工作。这真是一件悲哀的事情!这只鸟儿只能一年唱一次，而这还要算是用得很过火呢!不过乐师作了一个短短的演说——里面全是些难懂的字眼——他说这鸟儿是跟从前一样地好，因此当然是跟从前一样地好……
五个年头过去了。一件真正悲哀的事情终于来到了这个国家，这个国家的人都是很喜欢他们的皇帝，而他现在却病了，同时据说他不能久留于人世。新的皇帝已经选好了。老百姓都跑到街上来，向侍臣探问他们的老皇帝的病情。
“呸!”他摇摇头说。
皇帝躺在他华丽的大床上，冷冰冰的，面色惨白。整个宫廷的人都以为他死了，每人都跑到新皇帝那儿去致敬。男仆人都跑出来谈论这件事，丫环们开始准备盛大的咖啡会③来。所有的地方，在大厅和走廊里，都铺上了布，使得脚步声不至于响起来，所以这儿现在是很静寂，非常地静寂。可是皇帝还没有死，他僵直地、惨白地躺在华丽的床上——床上悬挂着天鹅绒的帷幔，帷幔上缀着厚厚的金丝穗子。顶上面的窗子是开着的，月亮照在皇帝和那只人造鸟儿身上。
这位可怜的皇帝几乎不能够呼吸了，他的胸口上好像有一件什么东西压着，他睁开眼睛，看到死神坐在他的胸口上，并且还戴上了他的金王冠，一只手拿着皇帝的宝剑，另一只手拿着他的华贵的令旗。四周有许多奇形怪状的脑袋从天鹅绒帷幔的褶纹里偷偷地伸出来，有的很丑，有的温和可爱。这些东西都代表皇帝所做过的好事和坏事。现在死神既然坐在他的心坎上，这些奇形怪状的脑袋就特地伸出来看他。
“你记得这件事吗?”它们一个接着一个地低语着，”你记得那件事吗?”它们告诉他许多事情，弄得他的前额冒出了许多汗珠。
“我不知道这件事!”皇帝说。”快把音乐奏起来!快把音乐奏起来!快把大鼓敲起来!”他叫出声来，“好叫我听不到他们讲的这些事情呀!”
然而它们还是不停地在讲。死神对它们所讲的话点点头——像中国人那样点法。
“把音乐奏起来呀!把音乐奏起来呀!”皇帝叫起来。“你这只贵重的小金鸟儿，唱吧，唱吧!我曾送给你贵重的金礼品;我曾经亲自把我的金拖鞋挂在你的脖颈上——现在请唱呀，唱呀!”
可是这只鸟儿站着动也不动一下，因为没有谁来替它上好发条，而它不上好发条就唱不出歌来。不过死神继续用他空洞的大眼睛盯着这位皇帝。四周是静寂的，可怕的静寂。
这时，正在这时候，窗子那儿有一个最美丽的歌声唱起来了，这就是那只小小的、活的夜莺，它栖在外面的一根树枝上，它听到皇帝可悲的境况，它现在特地来对他唱点安慰和希望的歌。当它在唱的时候，那些幽灵的面孔就渐渐变得淡了，同时在皇帝屠弱的肢体里，血也开始流动得活跃起来。甚至死神自己也开始听起歌来，而且还说：“唱吧，小小的夜莺，请唱下去吧!”
“不过，你愿意给我那把美丽的金剑吗?你愿意给我那面华贵的令旗吗?你愿意给我那顶皇帝的王冠吗?”
死神把这些宝贵的东西都交了出来，以换取一支歌。于是夜莺不停地唱下去。它歌唱那安静的教堂墓地——那儿生长着白色的玫瑰花，那儿接骨木树发出甜蜜的香气，那儿新草染上了未亡人的眼泪。死神这时就眷恋地思念起自己的花园来，于是他就变成一股寒冷的白雾，在窗口消逝了。
“多谢你，多谢你!”皇帝说。“你这只神圣的小鸟!我现在懂得你了。我把你从我的土地和帝国赶出去，而你却用歌声把那些邪恶的面孔从我的床边驱走，也把死神从我的心中去掉。我将用什么东西来报答你呢?”
“您已经报答我了!”夜莺说：“当我第一次唱的时候，我从您的眼里得到了您的泪珠——我将永远忘记不了这件事。每一滴眼泪是一颗珠宝——它可以使得一个歌者心花开放。不过现在请您睡吧，请您保养精神，变得健康起来吧，我将再为您喝一支歌。”
于是它唱起来——于是皇帝就甜蜜地睡着了。啊，这一觉是多么温和，多么愉快啊!
当他醒来、感到神志清新、体力恢复了的时候，太阳从窗子里射进来，照在他的身上。他的侍从一个也没有来，因为他们以为他死了。但是夜莺仍然立在他的身边，唱着歌。
“请你永远跟我住在一起吧，”皇帝说。“你喜欢怎样唱就怎样唱。我将把那只人造鸟儿撕成一千块碎片。”
“请不要这样做吧，”夜莺说。”它已经尽了它最大的努力。让它仍然留在您的身边吧。我不能在宫里筑一个窠住下来;不过，当我想到要来的时候，就请您让我来吧。我将在黄昏的时候栖在窗外的树枝上，为您唱支什么歌，叫您快乐，也叫您深思。我将歌唱那些幸福的人们和那些受难的人们。我将歌唱隐藏在您周围的善和恶。您的小小的歌鸟现在要远行了，它要飞到那个穷苦的渔夫身旁去，飞到农民的屋顶上去，飞到住得离您和您的宫廷很远的每个人身边去。比起您的王冠来，我更爱您的心。然而王冠却也有它神圣的一面。我将会再来，为您唱歌——不过我要求您答应我一件事。”
“什么事都成!”皇帝说。他亲自穿上他的朝服站着，同时把他那把沉重的金剑按在心上。
“我要求您一件事：请您不要告诉任何人，说您有一只会把什么事情都讲给您听的小鸟。只有这样，一切才会美好。”
于是夜莺就飞走了。
侍从们都进来瞧瞧他们死去了的皇帝——是的，他们都站在那儿，而皇帝却说：“早安!”
①这是安徒生引用的一个中国字的译音，原文是jsing’Pe!
②“夜莺”在丹麦文中是Nattergal，作者在这儿似乎故意开了一个文字玩笑，因为这个字如果拆开，头一半成为natter(夜——复数);则下一半“莺”就成gal，gal这个字在丹麦文中却是“发疯”的意思。
夜莺英文版：
The Nightingale
IN China, you know, the emperor is a Chinese, and all those about him are Chinamen also. The story I am going to tell you happened a great many years ago, so it is well to hear it now before it is forgotten. The emperor’s palace was the most beautiful in the world. It was built entirely of porcelain, and very costly, but so delicate and brittle that whoever touched it was obliged to be careful. In the garden could be seen the most singular flowers, with pretty silver bells tied to them, which tinkled so that every one who passed could not help noticing the flowers. Indeed, everything in the emperor’s garden was remarkable, and it extended so far that the gardener himself did not know where it ended. Those who travelled beyond its limits knew that there was a noble forest, with lofty trees, sloping down to the deep blue sea, and the great ships sailed under the shadow of its branches. In one of these trees lived a nightingale, who sang so beautifully that even the poor fishermen, who had so many other things to do, would stop and listen. Sometimes, when they went at night to spread their nets, they would hear her sing, and say, “Oh, is not that beautiful?” But when they returned to their fishing, they forgot the bird until the next night. Then they would hear it again, and exclaim “Oh, how beautiful is the nightingale’s song!”
Travellers from every country in the world came to the city of the emperor, which they admired very much, as well as the palace and gardens; but when they heard the nightingale, they all declared it to be the best of all. And the travellers, on their return home, related what they had seen; and learned men wrote books, containing descriptions of the town, the palace, and the gardens; but they did not forget the nightingale, which was really the greatest wonder. And those who could write poetry composed beautiful verses about the nightingale, who lived in a forest near the deep sea. The books travelled all over the world, and some of them came into the hands of the emperor; and he sat in his golden chair, and, as he read, he nodded his approval every moment, for it pleased him to find such a beautiful description of his city, his palace, and his gardens. But when he came to the words, “the nightingale is the most beautiful of all,” he exclaimed, “What is this? I know nothing of any nightingale. Is there such a bird in my empire? and even in my garden? I have never heard of it. Something, it appears, may be learnt from books.”
Then he called one of his lords-in-waiting, who was so high-bred, that when any in an inferior rank to himself spoke to him, or asked him a question, he would answer, “Pooh,” which means nothing.
“There is a very wonderful bird mentioned here, called a nightingale,” said the emperor; “they say it is the best thing in my large kingdom. Why have I not been told of it?”
“I have never heard the name,” replied the cavalier; “she has not been presented at court.”
“It is my pleasure that she shall appear this evening.” said the emperor; “the whole world knows what I possess better than I do myself.”
“I have never heard of her,” said the cavalier; “yet I will endeavor to find her.”
But where was the nightingale to be found? The nobleman went up stairs and down, through halls and passages; yet none of those whom he met had heard of the bird. So he returned to the emperor, and said that it must be a fable, invented by those who had written the book. “Your imperial majesty,” said he, “cannot believe everything contained in books; sometimes they are only fiction, or what is called the black art.”
“But the book in which I have read this account,” said the emperor, “was sent to me by the great and mighty emperor of Japan, and therefore it cannot contain a falsehood. I will hear the nightingale, she must be here this evening; she has my highest favor; and if she does not come, the whole court shall be trampled upon after supper is ended.”
“Tsing-pe!” cried the lord-in-waiting, and again he ran up and down stairs, through all the halls and corridors; and half the court ran with him, for they did not like the idea of being trampled upon. There was a great inquiry about this wonderful nightingale, whom all the world knew, but who was unknown to the court.
At last they met with a poor little girl in the kitchen, who said, “Oh, yes, I know the nightingale quite well; indeed, she can sing. Every evening I have permission to take home to my poor sick mother the scraps from the table; she lives down by the sea-shore, and as I come back I feel tired, and I sit down in the wood to rest, and listen to the nightingale’s song. Then the tears come into my eyes, and it is just as if my mother kissed me.”
“Little maiden,” said the lord-in-waiting, “I will obtain for you constant employment in the kitchen, and you shall have permission to see the emperor dine, if you will lead us to the nightingale; for she is invited for this evening to the palace.” So she went into the wood where the nightingale sang, and half the court followed her. As they went along, a cow began lowing.
“Oh,” said a young courtier, “now we have found her; what wonderful power for such a small creature; I have certainly heard it before.”
“No, that is only a cow lowing,” said the little girl; “we are a long way from the place yet.”
Then some frogs began to croak in the marsh.
“Beautiful,” said the young courtier again. “Now I hear it, tinkling like little church bells.”
“No, those are frogs,” said the little maiden; “but I think we shall soon hear her now:” and presently the nightingale began to sing.
“Hark, hark! there she is,” said the girl, “and there she sits,” she added, pointing to a little gray bird who was perched on a bough.
“Is it possible?” said the lord-in-waiting, “I never imagined it would be a little, plain, simple thing like that. She has certainly changed color at seeing so many grand people around her.”
“Little nightingale,” cried the girl, raising her voice, “our most gracious emperor wishes you to sing before him.”
“With the greatest pleasure,” said the nightingale, and began to sing most delightfully.
“It sounds like tiny glass bells,” said the lord-in-waiting, “and see how her little throat works. It is surprising that we have never heard this before; she will be a great success at court.”
“Shall I sing once more before the emperor?” asked the nightingale, who thought he was present.
“My excellent little nightingale,” said the courtier, “I have the great pleasure of inviting you to a court festival this evening, where you will gain imperial favor by your charming song.”
“My song sounds best in the green wood,” said the bird; but still she came willingly when she heard the emperor’s wish.
The palace was elegantly decorated for the occasion. The walls and floors of porcelain glittered in the light of a thousand lamps. Beautiful flowers, round which little bells were tied, stood in the corridors: what with the running to and fro and the draught, these bells tinkled so loudly that no one could speak to be heard. In the centre of the great hall, a golden perch had been fixed for the nightingale to sit on. The whole court was present, and the little kitchen-maid had received permission to stand by the door. She was not installed as a real court cook. All were in full dress, and every eye was turned to the little gray bird when the emperor nodded to her to begin. The nightingale sang so sweetly that the tears came into the emperor’s eyes, and then rolled down his cheeks, as her song became still more touching and went to every one’s heart. The emperor was so delighted that he declared the nightingale should have his gold slipper to wear round her neck, but she declined the honor with thanks: she had been sufficiently rewarded already. “I have seen tears in an emperor’s eyes,” she said, “that is my richest reward. An emperor’s tears have wonderful power, and are quite sufficient honor for me;” and then she sang again more enchantingly than ever.
“That singing is a lovely gift;” said the ladies of the court to each other; and then they took water in their mouths to make them utter the gurgling sounds of the nightingale when they spoke to any one, so thay they might fancy themselves nightingales. And the footmen and chambermaids also expressed their satisfaction, which is saying a great deal, for they are very difficult to please. In fact the nightingale’s visit was most successful. She was now to remain at court, to have her own cage, with liberty to go out twice a day, and once during the night. Twelve servants were appointed to attend her on these occasions, who each held her by a silken string fastened to her leg. There was certainly not much pleasure in this kind of flying.
The whole city spoke of the wonderful bird, and when two people met, one said “nightin,” and the other said “gale,” and they understood what was meant, for nothing else was talked of. Eleven peddlers’ children were named after her, but not of them could sing a note.
One day the emperor received a large packet on which was written “The Nightingale.” “Here is no doubt a new book about our celebrated bird,” said the emperor. But instead of a book, it was a work of art contained in a casket, an artificial nightingale made to look like a living one, and covered all over with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. As soon as the artificial bird was wound up, it could sing like the real one, and could move its tail up and down, which sparkled with silver and gold. Round its neck hung a piece of ribbon, on which was written “The Emperor of Japan’s nightingale is poor compared with that of the Emperor of China’s.”1
“This is very beautiful,” exclaimed all who saw it, and he who had brought the artificial bird received the title of “Imperial nightingale-bringer-in-chief.”
“Now they must sing together,” said the court, “and what a duet it will be.” But they did not get on well, for the real nightingale sang in its own natural way, but the artificial bird sang only waltzes.
“That is not a fault,” said the music-master, “it is quite perfect to my taste,” so then it had to sing alone, and was as successful as the real bird; besides, it was so much prettier to look at, for it sparkled like bracelets and breast-pins. Three and thirty times did it sing the same tunes without being tired; the people would gladly have heard it again, but the emperor said the living nightingale ought to sing something. But where was she? No one had noticed her when she flew out at the open window, back to her own green woods.
“What strange conduct,” said the emperor, when her flight had been discovered; and all the courtiers blamed her, and said she was a very ungrateful creature.
“But we have the best bird after all,” said one, and then they would have the bird sing again, although it was the thirty-fourth time they had listened to the same piece, and even then they had not learnt it, for it was rather difficult. But the music-master praised the bird in the highest degree, and even asserted that it was better than a real nightingale, not only in its dress and the beautiful diamonds, but also in its musical power. “For you must perceive, my chief lord and emperor, that with a real nightingale we can never tell what is going to be sung, but with this bird everything is settled. It can be opened and explained, so that people may understand how the waltzes are formed, and why one note follows upon another.”
“This is exactly what we think,” they all replied, and then the music-master received permission to exhibit the bird to the people on the following Sunday, and the emperor commanded that they should be present to hear it sing. When they heard it they were like people intoxicated; however it must have been with drinking tea, which is quite a Chinese custom. They all said “Oh!” and held up their forefingers and nodded, but a poor fisherman, who had heard the real nightingale, said, “it sounds prettily enough, and the melodies are all alike; yet there seems something wanting, I cannot exactly tell what.”
And after this the real nightingale was banished from the empire, and the artificial bird placed on a silk cushion close to the emperor’s bed. The presents of gold and precious stones which had been received with it were round the bird, and it was now advanced to the title of “Little Imperial Toilet Singer,” and to the rank of No. 1 on the left hand; for the emperor considered the left side, on which the heart lies, as the most noble, and the heart of an emperor is in the same place as that of other people.
The music-master wrote a work, in twenty-five volumes, about the artificial bird, which was very learned and very long, and full of the most difficult Chinese words; yet all the people said they had read it, and understood it, for fear of being thought stupid and having their bodies trampled upon.
So a year passed, and the emperor, the court, and all the other Chinese knew every little turn in the artificial bird’s song; and for that same reason it pleased them better. They could sing with the bird, which they often did. The street-boys sang, “Zi-zi-zi, cluck, cluck, cluck,” and the emperor himself could sing it also. It was really most amusing.
One evening, when the artificial bird was singing its best, and the emperor lay in bed listening to it, something inside the bird sounded “whizz.” Then a spring cracked. “Whir-r-r-r” went all the wheels, running round, and then the music stopped. The emperor immediately sprang out of bed, and called for his physician; but what could he do? Then they sent for a watchmaker; and, after a great deal of talking and examination, the bird was put into something like order; but he said that it must be used very carefully, as the barrels were worn, and it would be impossible to put in new ones without injuring the music. Now there was great sorrow, as the bird could only be allowed to play once a year; and even that was dangerous for the works inside it. Then the music-master made a little speech, full of hard words, and declared that the bird was as good as ever; and, of course no one contradicted him.
Five years passed, and then a real grief came upon the land. The Chinese really were fond of their emperor, and he now lay so ill that he was not expected to live. Already a new emperor had been chosen and the people who stood in the street asked the lord-in-waiting how the old emperor was; but he only said, “Pooh!” and shook his head.
Cold and pale lay the emperor in his royal bed; the whole court thought he was dead, and every one ran away to pay homage to his successor. The chamberlains went out to have a talk on the matter, and the ladies’-maids invited company to take coffee. Cloth had been laid down on the halls and passages, so that not a footstep should be heard, and all was silent and still. But the emperor was not yet dead, although he lay white and stiff on his gorgeous bed, with the long velvet curtains and heavy gold tassels. A window stood open, and the moon shone in upon the emperor and the artificial bird. The poor emperor, finding he could scarcely breathe with a strange weight on his chest, opened his eyes, and saw Death sitting there. He had put on the emperor’s golden crown, and held in one hand his sword of state, and in the other his beautiful banner. All around the bed and peeping through the long velvet curtains, were a number of strange heads, some very ugly, and others lovely and gentle-looking. These were the emperor’s good and bad deeds, which stared him in the face now Death sat at his heart.
“Do you remember this?” “Do you recollect that?” they asked one after another, thus bringing to his remembrance circumstances that made the perspiration stand on his brow.
“I know nothing about it,” said the emperor. “Music! music!” he cried; “the large Chinese drum! that I may not hear what they say.” But they still went on, and Death nodded like a Chinaman to all they said. “Music! music!” shouted the emperor. “You little precious golden bird, sing, pray sing! I have given you gold and costly presents; I have even hung my golden slipper round your neck. Sing! sing!” But the bird remained silent. There was no one to wind it up, and therefore it could not sing a note.
Death continued to stare at the emperor with his cold, hollow eyes, and the room was fearfully still. Suddenly there came through the open window the sound of sweet music. Outside, on the bough of a tree, sat the living nightingale. She had heard of the emperor’s illness, and was therefore come to sing to him of hope and trust. And as she sung, the shadows grew paler and paler; the blood in the emperor’s veins flowed more rapidly, and gave life to his weak limbs; and even Death himself listened, and said, “Go on, little nightingale, go on.”
“Then will you give me the beautiful golden sword and that rich banner? and will you give me the emperor’s crown?” said the bird.
So Death gave up each of these treasures for a song; and the nightingale continued her singing. She sung of the quiet churchyard, where the white roses grow, where the elder-tree wafts its perfume on the breeze, and the fresh, sweet grass is moistened by the mourners’ tears. Then Death longed to go and see his garden, and floated out through the window in the form of a cold, white mist.
“Thanks, thanks, you heavenly little bird. I know you well. I banished you from my kingdom once, and yet you have charmed away the evil faces from my bed, and banished Death from my heart, with your sweet song. How can I reward you?”
“You have already rewarded me,” said the nightingale. “I shall never forget that I drew tears from your eyes the first time I sang to you. These are the jewels that rejoice a singer’s heart. But now sleep, and grow strong and well again. I will sing to you again.”
And as she sung, the emperor fell into a sweet sleep; and how mild and refreshing that slumber was! When he awoke, strengthened and restored, the sun shone brightly through the window; but not one of his servants had returned—they all believed he was dead; only the nightingale still sat beside him, and sang.
“You must always remain with me,” said the emperor. “You shall sing only when it pleases you; and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand pieces.”
“No; do not do that,” replied the nightingale; “the bird did very well as long as it could. Keep it here still. I cannot live in the palace, and build my nest; but let me come when I like. I will sit on a bough outside your window, in the evening, and sing to you, so that you may be happy, and have thoughts full of joy. I will sing to you of those who are happy, and those who suffer; of the good and the evil, who are hidden around you. The little singing bird flies far from you and your court to the home of the fisherman and the peasant’s cot. I love your heart better than your crown; and yet something holy lingers round that also. I will come, I will sing to you; but you must promise me one thing.”
“Everything,” said the emperor, who, having dressed himself in his imperial robes, stood with the hand that held the heavy golden sword pressed to his heart.
“I only ask one thing,” she replied; “let no one know that you have a little bird who tells you everything. It will be best to conceal it.” So saying, the nightingale flew away.
The servants now came in to look after the dead emperor; when, lo! there he stood, and, to their astonishment, said, “Good morning.”
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