Bedtime Story: The Nightingale

"The Nightingale" is a fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen. It is about an emperor who loves the sound of a clockwork bird more than the song of a real nightingale. When the Emperor nearly dies, the nightingale's song restores his health.

Transcript

The Nightingale by Hans Christian Andersen,

Written in 1844 and read by Gerald Blomauer.

Once upon a time in China,

The Empress' Palace was the most beautiful in the world.

It was built entirely of porcelain,

Exquisite and very costly.

In the garden,

The most wonderful flowers could be found,

With silver bells which tinkled,

So that everyone who passed noticed them.

By the way,

There was a forest,

Sloping down to the deep blue sea.

Great ships sailed on it.

In one of the trees lived a nightingale.

She sang so beautifully that even the fishermen would stop and listen when they spread their nets at night.

Oh,

That is so lovely,

They said.

Travelers from every country in the world came to the city of the Emperor to admire the palace and the gardens.

But when they heard the nightingale sing,

They all agreed it was the best of all.

On their return home,

The travelers told what they had seen.

Poets composed beautiful verses,

And learned men and women wrote books about the town,

The palace and the gardens.

However,

They all considered the nightingale to be the greatest wonder.

The books were read all over the world,

And one of them reached the Emperor.

It pleased him to find such a beautiful description of his city,

His palace and his gardens.

But the nightingale is the most beautiful of all,

He read.

I must hear this nightingale,

And she shall appear this evening,

Demanded the Emperor.

But where was the nightingale to be found?

No one in the palace had heard of the bird.

At last they found a young girl in the kitchen who said,

Oh,

Yes,

I know the nightingale quite well.

Indeed,

She sings beautifully.

She lives down by the seashore.

On my way home in the evenings,

I sit down in the wood to rest and listen to the nightingale's song.

It is so touching,

Just as if my mother kissed me.

Half of the court accompanied the girl into the woods.

The nightingale started to sing.

There she is,

Said the girl.

She's sitting up there,

She added,

Pointing to a little gray bird who was perched on a branch.

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.

My song sounds best in the green wood.

But she came willingly when she heard the Emperor's wish.

The palace glittered in the light of a thousand lamps.

Beautiful flowers stood in the corridors.

In the center of the great hall,

A golden perch had been fixed for the nightingale to sit on.

The nightingale sang so sweetly that tears came into the Emperor's eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

Her song became even more moving,

Touching everyone's heart.

The Emperor was so delighted that he declared the nightingale should have his golden slipper.

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.

The nightingale was now to remain at court,

To have her own cage,

With the illiberty to go out twice a day and once during the night.

Both servants were appointed to her tenter.

A silken string was fastened to her leg so she could not fly away.

The poor nightingale was now a prisoner and very sad.

One day the Emperor received a large parcel,

Of which was written,

The nightingale.

It was a work of art,

Contained in a casket.

A clockwork nightingale covered over and over with diamonds,

Rubies and sapphires.

As soon as the artificial bird was wound up,

It could sing like the real one.

Now they must sing together,

Said the Emperor.

But they did not get on well,

For the real nightingale sang in its own natural way,

Whereas the clockwork bird sang waltzes.

So then it had to sing alone,

And it was much prettier to look at,

For it sparkled like bracelets and jewels.

Three and thirty times did it sing the same tunes without tiring.

The Emperor said the living nightingale ought to sing something.

But what was she?

No one had noticed her when she flew out of the open window back to her own green woods.

The people said she was a very ungrateful creature,

But we have the best bird after all,

They said.

They would have the bird sing again and again,

Always the same piece.

With a real nightingale we can never tell what is going to be sung,

But with this bird everything is fixed.

It can be opened and explained so that we may understand how the music is formed and why one note follows upon another.

On the following Sunday the Emperor commanded that everyone should be present to hear it sing.

They all said,

Oh,

And held up their forefingers and nodded.

Only the fisherman,

Who had heard the real nightingale,

Said,

It sounds pretty,

Yet there's something lacking.

We cannot exactly tell what.

The clockwork bird was placed on a silk cushion close to the Emperor's bed.

All its gold and jeweled presents lay around it,

And it had been given the title Grand Imperial Bedside Singer.

A year passed,

And the Emperor,

The court,

And all the other Chinese knew every little chirp in the clockwork bird's song.

That pleased them,

As they could sing with the bird as often as they liked.

One evening,

When the clockwork bird was singing its best,

And the Emperor lay in bed listening to it,

Something inside the bird sounded whizz.

Then a spring cracked,

Whizz went all the wheels,

And then the music stopped.

The watchmaker was fetched,

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.

Five years passed,

And then even greater sorrow came upon the nation.

The Emperor was very ill.

He lay cold and pale in his royal bed.

The passages were carpeted,

So that not a footstep could be heard.

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 clockwork bird.

The poor Emperor was hardly able to breathe.

It seemed as if something was sitting on his chest.

He opened his eyes and saw that it was Death,

Who was sitting on his chest.

He had put on the Emperor's golden crown,

And held his sword of state in one hand,

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 quite horrible,

Others beautiful and kind.

These were the Emperor's good and bad deeds,

Which stared at him now that Death sat on his heart.

Music,

Let me have music,

Shouted the Emperor.

You precious little golden bird,

Sing,

Pray,

Sing.

I have given you gold and costly presents,

Even my golden slipper.

Sing,

Do 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 branch of a tree sat the living nightingale.

She had heard of the Emperor's illness,

And had 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.

Yes,

If you will give me the splendid gold sword and that rich banner,

And will you give me the Emperor's crown?

Asked the bird.

Treasures for a song.

And the nightingale continued her singing.

She sang of the quiet churchyard where the white roses grow,

Where the lilac wafts its perfume on the breeze,

And the fresh sweet grass is moistened by the tears of the living.

Then Death longed to go and see his garden,

And floated out through the window in the form of a cold grey mist.

Thank you,

Thank you,

Heavenly little bird.

With your sweet song you have charmed away the evil faces from my bed,

And banished Death from my heart.

How can I reward you?

You have already rewarded me,

Said the nightingale.

I shall never forget the tears that came to your eyes the first time I sang to you.

These are the jewels that rejoice the singer's heart.

But now sleep,

And grow strong and well again.

I will sing you a lullaby.

As she sang,

The Emperor fell into a deep,

Calm sleep.

How mild and refreshing that slumber was.

The sun was shining when he awoke,

Strong and well.

You must always remain with me,

Said the Emperor.

You shall sing only when it pleases you,

And I will break the clockwork bird into a thousand pieces.

No,

Don't do that,

Replied the nightingale.

The bird did very well as long as it could.

Keep it here.

I cannot live in the palace and build my nest here,

But let me come whenever I like.

I will sit outside your window in the evening and sing to you.

Something that will make you happy and thoughtful too.

I will sing of joy and sorrow.

I will sing of the good and the evil which lies hidden from you.

I only have one wish.

Let no one know that you have a little bird who tells you everything.

So saying,

The nightingale flew away.

The servants now came in to look after the dead Emperor.

When low,

There he stood to their astonishment,

Healthy and full of joy.

The friendship with the nightingale touched the Emperor deeply.

Now they both had the freedom to be themselves.

The nightingale kept its promise and because of its advice,

The Emperor was able to rule justly and wisely for many years to come.

Reviews

What an utterly charming story. So relevant to the present day. Thank you Gerald, you are the nightingale! 🕊️

Oh this is beautiful! Was the birdsong that of a nightingale?
I'm experiencing insomnia, and I'm a grown-up (so I say), and this didn't exactly rock my to sleep, but it gifted me joy and peace. Thank you!

Beautiful story and skillful storytelling. Thank you! 🌹🌿

Wonderful, thank you ... I drifted off before the end 🙏

Lovely. I really enjoyed the birds at the end. I’ve been having trouble sleeping and this ease perfect for helping me doze off

Loved listening to this story! Put me in a very relaxed state. Thank you!

Wonderful story telller. His voice is mesmerizing.

Got me nice and relaxed for sleep. Loved the pauses and the voice.

Awesome! I absolutely love your voice. It is so comforting and soothing!
Thank you for this meditation story! God bless you! 💜🙏🏽💕

Beautiful
your voice is soooo soothing
thank you
🙏🏼♥️

This story is so beautiful and so descriptive uplifting A perfect way to wake up in the morning descriptions touch my heart. Thank you

Wonderful nighttime story to ease you into sleep

Wonderfully soothing stroytelling style. Calming and relaxing, perfectly peaceful selection of long-ago tales.

Thank you for this endearing drift into deep and peaceful sleep. Namaste

Marvelous! Fell asleep before the end as such soothing sounds, the reader’s voice and the Nightingale’s song. Thank you:)

Such a beautiful voice for the story. I have to try listening to it again tonight because I fell asleep so quickly - which is wonderful!

Loved that this was a story and not a “meditation”. Sometimes I just want to hear a classic story, accompanied by beautiful birdsong. Thx!

This is lovely. Thank you for the special ending. .

Beautiful and telling. A lovely way to end the evening. Thank you!

I loved the background sound of the birds and the speakers voice! Soothing and a nice tempo. Thank you