 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Sandra Estenson. The Nightingale by Hans Christian Andersen. In China, as you know, the Emperor is a Chinamen. And all the people around him are Chinamen too. It is many years since the story I am going to tell you happened, but that is all the more reason for telling it, lest it should be forgotten. The Emperor's Palace was the most beautiful thing in the world. It was made entirely of the finest porcelain, very costly, but at the same time so fragile that it could only be touched with the very greatest care. There were the most extraordinary flowers to be seen in the garden. The most beautiful ones had little silver bells tied to them, which tinkled perpetually so that one should not pass the flowers without looking at them. Every little detail in the garden had been most carefully thought out. And it was so big that even the gardener himself did not know where it ended. If one went on walking, one came to beautiful woods with lofty trees and deep lakes. The wood extended to the sea, which was deep and blue, deep enough for large ships to sail right up under the branches of the trees. Among these trees lived a nightingale, which sang so deliciously that even the poor fisherman, who had plenty of other things to do, lay still to listen to it when he was out at night drawing in his nets. Heavens, how beautiful it is, he said, but then he had to attend to his business and forgot it. The next night, when he heard it again, he would again exclaim, Heavens, how beautiful it is. Travelers came to the emperor's capital from every country in the world. They admired everything very much, especially the palace and the gardens. But when they heard the nightingale, they all said, this is better than anything. When they got home, they described it and learned ones wrote many books about the town, the palace and the garden. But nobody forgot the nightingale. It was always put above everything else. Those among them who were poets wrote the most beautiful poems all about the nightingale in the woods by the deep blue sea. These books went all over the world, and in course of time some of them reached the emperor. He sat in his golden chair, reading and reading and nodding his head, well pleased to hear such beautiful descriptions of the town, the palace and the garden. But the nightingale is best of all, he read. What is this? said the emperor. The nightingale? Why, I know nothing about it. Is there such a bird in my kingdom and in my own garden into the bargain and I have never heard of it? Imagine my having to discover this from a book. Then he called his gentlemen in waiting, who was so grand that when anyone of a lower rank dared to speak to him or ask him a question, he would only answer, pfft, which meant nothing at all. There is said to be a very wonderful bird called a nightingale here, said the emperor. They say it is better than anything else in all my great kingdom. Why, have I never been told anything about it? I've never heard it mentioned, said the gentlemen in waiting. It has never been presented at court. I wish it to appear here this evening to sing to me, said the emperor. The whole world knows what I am possessed of and I know nothing about it. I have never heard it mentioned before, said the gentlemen in waiting. I will seek it and I will find it. But where was it to be found? The gentlemen in waiting ran upstairs and downstairs and in and out of all the rooms and corridors. No one of all those he met had ever heard anything about the nightingale. So the gentlemen in waiting ran back to the emperor and said that it must be a myth invented by the writers of the books. Your Imperial Majesty must not believe everything that is written. Books are often mere inventions, even if they do not belong to what we call the black art. But the book in which I read it is sent to me by the powerful Emperor of Japan, so it can't be untrue. I will hear this nightingale. I insist upon it being here tonight. I extend my most gracious protection to it. And if it is not forthcoming, I will have the whole court trampled upon after supper. Tsingpei! said the gentlemen in waiting, and away he ran again. Up and down all the stairs, in and out of all the rooms and corridors, half the court ran with him, for they none of them wished to be trampled on. There was much questioning about this nightingale, which was known to all the outside world, but to no one at court. At last they found a poor little maid in the kitchen. She said, Oh heavens the nightingale! I know it very well. Yes indeed it can sing. Every evening I'm allowed to take broken meat to my poor sick mother. She lives down by the shore, on my way back, when I am tired, I rest a while in the wood, and then I hear the nightingale. Its song brings the tears into my eyes. I feel as if my mother were kissing me. Little kitchen maid, said the gentlemen in waiting, I will procure you a permanent position in the kitchen and permission to see the emperor dining. If you will take us to the nightingale, it is commanded to appear at court tonight. They all went out into the wood, where the nightingale usually sang. Half the court was there. As they were going along at their best pace, a cow began to bellow. Oh, said a young courtier, there we have it. Beautiful pauper for such a little creature, I have certainly heard it before. No, those are the cows bellowing. We are a long way yet from the place. Then the frogs began to croak in the marsh. Beautiful, said the Chinese chaplain, it is just like the tinkling of church bells. No, those are frogs, said the little kitchen maid, but I think we shall soon hear it now. Then the nightingale began to sing. There it is, said the little girl. Listen, listen, there it sits. And she pointed to a little gray bird up among the branches. Is it possible, said the gentlemen in waiting, I should never have thought it was like that. How common it looks. Seeing so many grand people must have frightened all its colors away. Little nightingale, called the kitchen maid quite loud, our gracious emperor wishes you to sing to him. With the greatest of pleasure, said the nightingale, warbling away in the most beautiful fashion. It is just like crystal bells, said the gentlemen in waiting. Look at its little throat, how active it is. It is extraordinary that we have never heard it before. I am sure it will be a great success at court. Shall I sing again to the emperor? said the nightingale, who thought he was present. My precious little nightingale, said the gentlemen in waiting, I have the honor to command your attendance at a court festival tonight, where you will charm his gracious majesty the emperor with your fascinating singing. It sounds best among the trees, said the nightingale, but it went with them willingly when it heard that the emperor wished it. The palace had been brightened up for the occasion. The walls and the floors, which were all made of china, shone by the light of many thousand golden lamps. The most beautiful flowers, all of the tinkling kind, were arranged in the corridors. There was hurrying to and fro and a great draft, but this was just what made the bells ring. One's ears were full of the tinkling. In the middle of the large reception room where the emperor sat, a golden rod had been fixed, on which the nightingale was to perch. The whole court was assembled and the little kitchen maid had been permitted to stand behind the door, as she now had the actual title of cook. They were all dressed in their best. Everybody's eyes were turned towards the little grey bird at which the emperor was nodding. The nightingale sang delightfully and tears came into the emperor's eyes. Nay, they rolled down his cheeks and then the nightingale sang more beautifully than ever. Its notes touched all hearts. The emperor was charmed and said the nightingale should have his gold slipper to wear round its neck. But the nightingale declined with thanks. It had already been sufficiently rewarded. I have seen the tears in the eyes of the emperor. That is my richest reward. The tears of an emperor have a wonderful power. God knows I am sufficiently recompensed. And then it again burst into its sweet heavenly song. That is the most beautiful coquettin' I have ever seen, said the ladies, and they took some water into their mouths to try and make the same gurgling when anyone spoke to them, sinking so to equal the nightingale. Even the lackeys in the chamber-meads announced that they were satisfied. And that's saying a great deal. They are always the most difficult people to please. Yes, indeed, the nightingale had made a sensation. It was to stay at court now and to have its own cage, as well as liberty to walk out twice a day, and once in the night. It always had twelve footmen, with each one holding a ribbon, which was tied round its leg. There was not much pleasure in an outing of that sort. The whole town talked about the marvelous bird, and if two people met, one said to the other night, and the other answered, the nightingale, and then they sighed, perfectly understanding each other. Eleven cheese-mongerers' children were called after it, but they had not got a voice among them. One day a large parcel came for the emperor. Outside was written the word nightingale. Here we have another book about this celebrated bird, said the emperor. But it was no book. It was a little work of art in a box, an artificial nightingale, exactly like the living one. But it was studded all over with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. When the bird was wound up, it could sing one of the songs the real one sang, and it wagged its tail, which glittered with silver and gold. A ribbon was tied round its neck, on which was written, the emperor of Japan's nightingale is very poor compared to the emperor of China's. Everybody said, oh, how beautiful! And the person who brought the artificial bird immediately received the title of Imperial Nightingale Carrier-in-Chief. Now they must sing together. What a duet that will be! Then they had to sing together. But they did not get on very well, for the real nightingale sang in its own way, and the artificial one could only sing waltzes. There is no fault in that, said the music master. It is perfectly in time and correct in every way. Then the artificial bird had to sing alone. It was just as great a success as the real one. And then it was so much prettier to look at. It glittered like bracelets and breastpins. That is the most delightful coquettin' I have ever seen, said the ladies, and they took some water into their mouths to try and make the same gurgling, thinking so to equal the nightingale. It sang the same tune three and thirty times over. And yet it was not tired. People would willingly have heard it from the beginning again, but the emperor said that the real one must have a turn now. But where was it? No one had noticed that it had flown out of the open window back to its own green woods. But what is the meaning of this, said the emperor? All the courtiers railed at it and said it was a most ungrateful bird. We have got the best bird though, they said, and then the artificial bird had to sing again. And this was the 34th time that they heard the same tune. But they did not know it thoroughly even yet, because it was so difficult. The music master praised the bird tremendously and insisted that it was much better than the real nightingale, not only as regarded to the outside with all the diamonds, but the inside too. Because you see, my ladies and gentlemen, and the emperor before all, in the real nightingale, you never know what you will hear. But in the artificial one, everything is decided beforehand. So it is, and so it must remain. It can't be otherwise. You can account for things, you can open it, and show the human ingenuity in arranging the waltzes, how they go, and how one note follows upon another. Those are exactly my opinions, they all said, and the music master got leave to show the bird to the public next Sunday. They were also to hear it sing, said the emperor. So they heard it, and all became as enthusiastic over it as if they had drunk themselves Mary on tea, because that is a thoroughly Chinese habit. Then they all said, oh, and struck their forefingers in the air and nodded their heads. But the poor fisherman, who had heard the real nightingale, said, it sounds very nice, and is very like the real one, but there is something wanting. We don't know what. The real nightingale was banished from the kingdom. The artificial bird had its place on a silken cushion close to the emperor's bed. All the presents it had received of gold and precious jewels were scattered round it. Its title had risen to be Chief Imperial Singer of the Bed Chamber, in rank number one on the left side. For the emperor reckoned that side the important one, where the heart was seated. And even an emperor's heart is on the left side. The music master wrote five and twenty volumes about the artificial bird. The treaties was very long and written in all the most difficult Chinese characters. Everyone said they had read and understood it. For otherwise they would have been reckoned stupid and then their bodies would have been trampled upon. Things went on this way for a whole year. The emperor, the court, and all the other Chinamen knew every little gurgle in the song of the artificial bird by heart. But they liked it all the better for this and they could all join in the song themselves. Even the street boys sang zee zee zee and cluck cluck cluck and the emperor sang it too. But one evening when the bird was singing its best and the emperor was lying in bed listening to it something gave way inside the bird with a whizz and then a spring burst went all the wheels and the music stopped. The emperor jumped out of bed and sent for his private physicians but what good could they do? Then they sent for the watchmaker and after a good deal of talk and examination he got the works to go again somehow but he said it would have to be saved as much as possible because it was so worn out and he could not renew the works so as to be sure of the tune. This was a great blow. They only dared to let the artificial bird sing once a year and hardly that. But then the music master made a little speech using all the most difficult words. He said it was just as good as ever and his saying it made it so. Five years now passed and then a great grief came upon the nation for they were all very fond of their emperor and he was ill and could not live, it was said. A new emperor was already chosen and people stood about in the street and asked the gentleman in waiting how their emperor was going on. Pfft! answered he, shaking his head. The emperor lay pale and cold in his gorgeous bed. The courtiers thought he was dead and they all went off to pay their respects to their new emperor. The lackeys ran off to talk matters over and the chambermaids gave a great coffee party. Cloth had been laid down in all the rooms and corridors so as to deaden the sound of footsteps. So it was very, very quiet. But the emperor was not dead yet. He lay stiff and pale in the gorgeous bed with its velvet hangings and golden tassels. There was an open window high above him and the moon streamed in upon the emperor and the artificial bird beside him. The poor emperor could hardly breathe. He seemed to have a weight on his chest. He opened his eyes and then he saw that it was death sitting upon his chest wearing his golden crown. In one hand he held the emperor's golden sword and in the other his imperial banner. Round about from among the folds of the velvet hangings peered many curious faces. Some were hideous, others gentle and pleasant. They were all the emperor's good and bad deeds. Which now looked him in the face when death was weighing him down. Do you remember that? Whispered one after the other. Do you remember this? And they told him so many things that perspiration poured down his face. I never knew that, said the emperor. Music, music, sound the great Chinese drums, he cried that I may not hear what they are saying. But they went on and on and death sat nodding his head just like a Chinaman at everything that was said. Music, music, shrieked the emperor. You precious little golden birds sing, sing. I have loaded you with precious stones and even hung my own golden slipper around your neck. Sing I tell you, sing. But the bird stood silent. There was nobody to wind it up. So of course it could not go. Death continued to fix the great empty sockets of his eyes upon him. And all was silent, so terribly silent. Suddenly, close to the window, there was a burst of lovely song. It was the living nightingale perched on a branch outside. It had heard of the emperor's need and had come to bring comfort and hope to him. As it sang, the faces round became fainter and fainter and the blood coursed with fresh vigor in the emperor's veins and through his feeble limbs. Even death himself listened to the song and said, go on little nightingale, go on. Yes, if you give me the gorgeous golden sword. Yes, if you give me the imperial banner. Yes, if you give me the emperor's crown. And death gave back each of these treasures for a song. And the nightingale went on singing. It sang about the quiet churchyard when the roses bloom, where the elder flower sensed the air and where the fresh grass is ever moistened anew by the tears of the mourner. This song brought to death a longing for his own garden. And like a cold gray mist, he passed out of the window. Thanks, thanks said the emperor, you heavenly little bird. I know you, I banished you from my kingdom and yet you have charmed the evil visions away from my bed by your song and even death away from my heart. How can I ever repay you? You have rewarded me, said the nightingale. I brought the tears to your eyes the very first time I ever sang to you and I shall never forget it. Those are the jewels which gladden the heart of a singer. But sleep now and wake up fresh and strong. I will sing to you. Then it sang again. And the emperor fell into a sweet, refreshing sleep. The sun shone at his window when he woke refreshed and well. None of his attendants had come back to him for they thought he was dead. But the nightingale still sat there singing. You must always stay with me, said the emperor. You shall only sing when you like and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand pieces. Don't do that, said the nightingale. It did all the good it could. Keep it as you always have. I can't build my nest and live in this palace. But let me come whenever I like. Then I will sit on the branch in the evening and sing to you. I will sing to cheer you and to make you thoughtful too. I will sing to you of the happy ones and of those that suffer too. I will sing about the good and the evil which are kept hidden from you. The little singing bird flies far and wide to the poor fisherman and the peasant's home to numbers who are far from you and your court. I love your heart more than your crown and yet there's an odor of sanctity round the crown too. I will come and I will sing to you. But you must promise me one thing. Everything, said the emperor, who stood there in his imperial robes which he had just put on and he held the sword heavy with gold upon his heart. One thing I ask you, tell no one that you have a little bird who tells you everything. It will be better so. Then the nightingale flew away. The attendants came in to see after their dead emperor and there he stood, bidding them. Good morning. The End of the Nightingale by Hans Christian Andersen Read by Sandra Estenson The Emperor's New Clothes by Hans Christian Andersen This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Jadapi The Emperor's New Clothes Many years ago there was an emperor who was so excessively fond of new clothes that he spent all his money in dress. He did not trouble himself in the least about his soldiers, nor did he care to go either to the theatre or the chaise, except for the opportunities then afforded him for displaying his new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of the day and as of any other king or emperor one is accustomed to say he is sitting in council. It was also said of him, the emperor is sitting in his wardrobe. Time passed merrily in the large town which was his capital. Strangers arrived every day at the court. One day two rogues, calling themselves weavers, made their appearance. They gave out that they knew how to weave stuffs of the most beautiful colours and elaborate patterns. The clothes manufactured from which should have the wonderful property of remaining invisible to everyone who was unfit for the office he held or who was extraordinarily simple in character. These must indeed be splendid clothes, thought the emperor. Had eyes such a suit I might at once find out what men in my realms are unfit for their office and also be able to distinguish the wise from the foolish. This stuff must be woven for me immediately and he caused large sums of money to be given to both the weavers in order that they might begin their work directly. So the two pretended weavers set up two looms and affected to work very busily. Though in reality they did nothing at all. They asked for the most delicate silk and the purest gold thread, put both into their own knapsacks, and then continued their pretended work at the empty looms until late at night. I should like to know how the weavers are getting on with my cloth, said the emperor to himself, after some little time had elapsed. He was, however, rather embarrassed when he remembered that a simpleton or one unfit for his office would be able to see the manufacture. To be sure he thought he had nothing to risk in his own person, but yet he would prefer sending somebody else to bring him intelligence about the weavers and their work before he troubled himself in the affair. All the people throughout the city had heard of the wonderful property the cloth was to possess, and all were anxious to learn how wise or how ignorant their neighbors might prove to be. I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers, said the emperor at last, after some deliberation. He will be best able to see how the cloth looks, for he is a man of sense, and no one can be more suitable for his office than he is. So the faithful old minister went into the hall where the knaves were working with all their might at their empty looms. What can be the meaning of this? thought the old man, opening his eyes very wide. I cannot discover the least bit of threat on the looms. However, he did not express his thoughts aloud. The imposters requested him very courteously to be so good as to come nearer their looms, and then asked him whether the design pleased him and whether the colors were not very beautiful. At the same time pointing to the empty frames. The poor old minister looked and looked. He could not discover anything on the looms for a very good reason. There was nothing there. What! thought he again. Is it possible that I am a simpleton? I have never thought so myself, and no one must know it now if I am so. Can it be that I am unfit for my office? No, that must not be said either. I will never confess that I could not see the stuff. Well, sir minister, said one of the knaves, still pretending to work, you do not say whether the stuff pleases you. Oh! it is excellent! replied the old minister, looking at the loom through his spectacles. This pattern and the colors, yes. I will tell the emperor without delay, how very beautiful I think them. We shall be much obliged to you, said the imposters, and then they named the different colors and described the pattern of the pretended stuff. The old minister listened attentively to their words in order that he might repeat them to the emperor, and then the knaves asked for more silk and gold, saying that it was necessary to complete what they had begun. However, they put all that was given them into their knapsacks and continued to work with as much apparent diligence as before at their empty looms. The emperor now sent another officer of his court to see how the men were getting on and to ascertain whether the cloth would soon be ready. It was just the same with this gentleman as with the minister. He surveyed the looms on all sides but could see nothing at all but the empty frames. Does not the stuff appear as beautiful to you as it did to my lord the minister? asked the imposters of the emperor's second ambassador at the same time, making the same gestures as before, and talking of the design and colors which were not there. I certainly am not stupid, thought the messenger. It must be that I am not fit for my good profitable office that is very odd. However, no one shall know anything about it. And accordingly he praised the stuff he could not see and declared that he was delighted with both colors and patterns. Indeed, please, your imperial majesty, said he to his sovereign when he returned, the cloth which the weavers are preparing is extraordinarily magnificent. The whole city was talking of the splendid cloth which the emperor had ordered to be woven at his own expense. And now the emperor himself wished to see the costly manufacture while it was still in the loom. Accompanied by a select number of officers of the court, among whom were the two honest men who had already admired the cloth, he went to the crafty imposters who, as soon as they were aware of the emperor's approach, went on working more diligently than ever, although they still did not pass a single thread through the looms. Is not the work absolutely magnificent? said the two officers of the crown already mentioned. If your majesty will only be pleased to look at it, what a splendid design, what glorious colors! And at the same time they pointed to the empty frames, for they imagined that everyone else could see this exquisite piece of workmanship. How is this? said the emperor to himself. I can see nothing. This is indeed a terrible affair. Am I a simpleton, or am I unfit to be an emperor? That would be the worst thing that could happen. Oh, the cloth is charming, said he aloud. It has my complete approbation. And he smiled, most graciously, and looked closely at the empty looms. For on no account would he say that he could not see what two of the officers of his court had praised so much. All his retinue now strained their eyes, hoping to discover something on the looms, but they could see no more than the others. Nevertheless, they all exclaimed, Oh, how beautiful! And advised his majesty to have some new clothes made from this splendid material. For the approaching procession, Magnificent, charming, excellent, resounded on all sides, and everyone was uncommonly gay. The emperor shared in the general satisfaction and presented the imposters with the ribbon of an order of knighthood to be worn in their buttonholes and the title of gentlemen weavers. The rogues sat up the whole of the night before the day on which the procession was to take place, and had sixteen lights burning so that everyone might see how anxious they were to finish the emperor's new suit. They pretended to roll the cloth off the looms, cut the air with their scissors, and sewed with needles without any thread in them. See, cried they at last, the emperor's new clothes are ready. And now the emperor with all the grandees of his court came to the weavers, and the rogues raised their arms, as if in the act of holding something up, saying, Here are your majesty's trousers, here is the scarf, here is the mantle. The whole suit is as light as a cobweb. One might fancy one has nothing at all on when dressed in it, that, however, is the great virtue of this delicate cloth. Yes indeed, said all the courtiers, although not one of them could see anything of this exquisite manufacture. If your imperial majesty will be graciously pleased to take off your clothes, we will fit on the new suit in front of the looking-glass. The emperor was accordingly undressed, and the rogues pretended to array him in his new suit, the emperor turning round from side to side before the looking-glass. How splendid his majesty looks in his new clothes, and how well they fit, everyone cried out. What a design! What colors! These are indeed royal rogues. The canopy, which is to be borne over your majesty in the procession, is waiting, announced the chief master of the ceremonies. I am quite ready, answered the emperor. Do my new clothes fit well, asked he, turning himself around again before the looking-glass, in order that he might appear to be examining his handsome suit. The lords of the bed-chamber, who were to carry his majesty's train, felt about on the ground that they were lifting up the ends of the mantle, and pretended to be carrying something, for they would by no means betray anything like simplicity or unfitness for their office. So now the emperor walked under his high canopy, in the midst of the procession, through the streets of his capital, and all the people standing by, and those at the windows, cried out, Oh, how beautiful are our emperor's new clothes! What a magnificent train there is to the mantle! And how gracefully the scarf hangs! In short, no one would allow that he could not see these much-admired clothes, because in doing so he would have declared himself either a simpleton or unfit for his office. Certainly none of the emperor's various suits had ever made so great an impression as these invisible ones. But the emperor has nothing at all on, said a little child. Listen to the voice of innocence, exclaimed his father, and what the child had said was whispered from one to another. But he has nothing at all on. At last cried out all the people. The emperor was vexed, for he knew that the people were right. But he thought the procession must go on now. And the lords of the bed-chamber took greater pains than ever to appear holding up a train, although in reality there was no train to hold.