Ганс Андерсен - Fairy Tales

“Oh,” said the young court nobles, “Here we have it! What remarkable power in such a little animal! We have most assuredly heard it before.”

“No, those are cows mooing,” said the little kitchen maid. “We’re still far from the place.”

Then the frogs croaked in the pond.

“Lovely!” said the Chinese palace chaplain. “Now I hear it—like little church bells.”

“No, those are the frogs,” said the little kitchen maid. “But I think we’ll hear it pretty soon.”

And then the nightingale started singing.

“That’s it,” said the little girl. “Listen! listen! And there it is!” and she pointed at a little grey bird up in the branches.

“Is this possible?” asked the chamberlain. “I wouldn’t have imagined it to look like that. How plain it looks! It must have lost its colors from seeing so many distinguished people looking at it!”

“Little nightingale,” called the little kitchen maid quite loudly, “our Most Gracious Emperor so dearly wants you to sing for him!”

“With the greatest pleasure!” said the nightingale and sang so beautifully that it was a pleasure to hear.

“It sounds like glass bells,” said the chamberlain. “And look at its little throat, how it’s throbbing! It’s remarkable that we haven’t heard it before. It’ll be a big success at court!”

“Shall I sing one more time for the emperor?” asked the nightingale, who thought the emperor was with them.

“My splendid little nightingale,” said the chamberlain. “I have the great honor of summoning you to a court party this evening, where you will enchant his great Royal Highness the Emperor with your charming song!”

“It really sounds better out in the open air,” said the nightingale, but it gladly followed along when it heard that it was the emperor’s wish.

At the palace everything had been polished. The walls and floors of porcelain were shining with the light of many thousand golden lamps. The most beautiful flowers with their bells were lined up in the hallways. There was a running back and forth and a draft so that all the bells rang, and you couldn’t hear what anyone said.

In the middle of the big chamber where the emperor sat, a golden perch had been set up, and the nightingale was to sit on that. The entire court was there, and the little kitchen maid had been allowed to stand back by the door since she now had the official title of Real Kitchen Maid. They were all dressed up in their finest, and all looked at the little grey bird as the emperor nodded for it to begin.

And the nightingale sang so beautifully that it brought tears to the emperor’s eyes. They rolled down over his cheeks, and then the nightingale sang even more beautifully so it touched everyone’s heart. The emperor was very happy, and he said that the nightingale should have his golden slipper to wear around its neck. But the nightingale thanked him and said it had already had payment enough.

“I’ve seen tears in the emperor’s eyes, and that is the greatest treasure for me. An emperor’s tears have a remarkable power. God knows I have payment enough!” and then it sang again with its blessed, sweet voice.

“That’s the most delightful coquetry and flirtation we’ve ever seen,” said all the ladies, and they kept water in their mouths so they could cluck when someone talked to them. They thought they were nightingales too. Well, the footmen and chambermaids also let it be known that they were satisfied, and that says a lot since they are the most difficult to please. Yes, the nightingale was a great success!

It was going to remain at court and have its own cage, but freedom to walk out twice a day and once at night. Twelve servants were to go along with silk ribbons tied to the nightingale’s leg, and they were to hold on tightly. There was no pleasure to be had from walks like this!

The whole town talked about the remarkable bird, and if two people met each other, then the first said only “Night” and the other said “gale,” and then they sighed and understood each other. Eleven grocers named their children after the nightingale, but none of them could sing a note.

One day a big package came for the emperor, on the outside was written Nightingale.

“Here’s a new book about our famous bird,” said the emperor, but it wasn’t a book. It was a little work of art lying in a box: an artificial nightingale that was supposed to resemble the real one, but it was studded with diamonds, rubies and sapphires. As soon as you wound the artificial bird up, it would sing one of the songs the real bird could sing, and the tail bobbed up and down and sparkled silver and gold. Around its neck was a little ribbon, and on the ribbon was written: “The emperor of Japan’s nightingale is a trifling compared to the emperor of China’s.”

“It’s lovely,” they all said, and the one who had brought the artificial bird was immediately given the title of Most Imperial Nightingale Bringer.

“They have to sing together. A duet!”

And so they had to sing together, but it didn’t really work since the real nightingale sang in his way, and the artificial bird sang on cylinders. “It’s not its fault,” said the court conductor. “It keeps perfect time and fits quite into my school of music theory.” Then the artificial bird was to sing alone and was just as well received as the real bird. Moreover it was so much more beautiful to look at, for it glittered like bracelets and brooches.

Thirty three times it sang the same song, and it never got tired. People would gladly have listened to it again, but the emperor thought that now the live nightingale should also sing a little—but where was it? No one had noticed that it had flown out of the open window, away to its green forest.

“What’s the meaning of this?” cried the emperor, and all the members of the court scolded the bird, and thought that the nightingale was a most ungrateful creature. “We still have the best bird,” they said, and then the artificial bird had to sing again, and that was the thirty-fourth time they heard the same piece, but they didn’t quite know it yet for it was so long, and the conductor praised the bird so extravagantly. He insisted that it was better than the real nightingale, not just in appearance with its many lovely diamonds, but also on the inside.

“You see, ladies and gentlemen, Your Royal Majesty! You can never know what to expect from the real nightingale, but everything is determined in the artificial bird. It will be so-and-so, and no different! You can explain it; you can open it up and show the human thought—how the cylinders are placed, how they work, and how one follows the other!”

“My thoughts exactly,” everyone said, and on the following Sunday the conductor was allowed to exhibit the bird for the public. The emperor also said that they were to hear it sing, and they were so pleased by it as if they had drunk themselves merry on tea (for that is so thoroughly Chinese), and they all said “Oh” and stuck their index fingers in the air and nodded. But the poor fisherman, who had heard the real nightingale, said, “It sounds good enough, and sounds similar too, but there’s something missing. I don’t know what.”

The real nightingale was banished from the country and the empire.

The artificial bird had its place on a silk pillow right by the emperor’s bed. All the gifts it had received, gold and gems, were lying around it, and it had been given the title of Most Imperial Nightstand Singer of the First Rank to the Left because the emperor considered the side towards the heart to be the most distinguished. The heart is on the left side also in emperors. The Royal Conductor wrote twenty-five volumes about the ar-tificial bird that were very learned and very long and included all the longest Chinese words. All the people said that they had read and understood the books. Otherwise they would have been stupid, of course, and would have been thumped on the stomach.