floors, which were all 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
draught, 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 the 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 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 delightful coquetting I have ever seen!' said the
ladies, and they took some water into their mouths to try and make the
same gurgling when any one spoke to them, thinking so to equal the
nightingale. Even the lackeys and the chambermaids announced that they
were satisfied, and that is 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 marvellous bird, and if two people met,
one said to the other 'Night,' and the other answered 'Gale,' and then
they sighed, perfectly understanding each other. Eleven cheesemongers'
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 new 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 breast-pins.
[Illustration: _Then it again burst into its sweet heavenly song.]
'That is the most delightful coquetting 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,' said they, and then the artificial
bird had to sing again, and this was the thirty-fourth 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 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 merry on tea,
because that is a thoroughly Chinese habit.
Then they all said 'Oh,' and stuck their forefingers in the air and
nodded their heads; but the poor fishermen who had heard the real
nightingale said, 'It sounds very nice, and it 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 treatise was very long and written in all the most difficult Chinese
characters. Everybody said they had read and understood it, for
otherwise they would have been reckoned stupid, and then their bodies
would have been trampled upon.
[Illustration: _The music-master wrote five-and-twenty volumes about the
artificial bird; the treatise was very long and written in all the most
difficult Chinese characters._]
Things went on in 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 'zizizi' 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.' Then a spring burst, 'whirr' 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.
'P,' 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 heavy 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 the 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 bird,
sing, sing! I have loaded you with precious stones, and even hung my own
golden slipper round 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 vigour 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 scents 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
grey 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 in at his window, when he woke refreshed and well; none of
his attendants had yet 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!'
[Illustration: _Even Death himself listened to the song and said, 'Go
on, little nightingale, go on!'_]
'Don't do that!' said the nightingale, 'it did all the good it could!
keep it as you have always done! 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 is an
odour 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 REAL PRINCESS
There was once a prince, and he wanted a princess, but then she must be
a _real_ Princess. He travelled right round the world to find one, but
there was always something wrong. There were plenty of princesses, but
whether they were real princesses he had great difficulty in
discovering; there was always something which was not quite right about
them. So at last he had to come home again, and he was very sad because
he wanted a real princess so badly.
One evening there was a terrible storm; it thundered and lightened and
the rain poured down in torrents; indeed it was a fearful night.
In the middle of the storm somebody knocked at the town gate, and the
old King himself went to open it.
It was a princess who stood outside, but she was in a terrible state
from the rain and the storm. The water streamed out of her hair and her
clothes; it ran in at the top of her shoes and out at the heel, but she
said that she was a real princess.
'Well we shall soon see if that is true,' thought the old Queen, but she
said nothing. She went into the bedroom, took all the bedclothes off and
laid a pea on the bedstead: then she took twenty mattresses and piled
them on the top of the pea, and then twenty feather beds on the top of
the mattresses. This was where the princess was to sleep that night. In
the morning they asked her how she had slept.
'Oh terribly badly!' said the princess. 'I have hardly closed my eyes
the whole night! Heaven knows what was in the bed. I seemed to be lying
upon some hard thing, and my whole body is black and blue this morning.
It is terrible!'
They saw at once that she must be a real princess when she had felt the
pea through twenty mattresses and twenty feather beds. Nobody but a real
princess could have such a delicate skin.
So the prince took her to be his wife, for now he was sure that he had
found a real princess, and the pea was put into the Museum, where it may
still be seen if no one has stolen it.
Now this is a true story.
THE GARDEN OF PARADISE
There was once a king's son; nobody had so many or such beautiful books
as he had. He could read about everything which had ever happened in
this world, and see it all represented in the most beautiful pictures.
He could get information about every nation and every country; but as to
where the Garden of Paradise was to be found, not a word could he
discover, and this was the very thing he thought most about. His
grandmother had told him, when he was quite a little fellow and was
about to begin his school life, that every flower in the Garden of
Paradise was a delicious cake, and that the pistils were full of wine.
In one flower history was written, in another geography or tables; you
had only to eat the cake and you knew the lesson. The more you ate, the
more history, geography and tables you knew. All this he believed then;
but as he grew older and wiser and learnt more, he easily perceived that
the delights of the Garden of Paradise must be far beyond all this.
[Illustration: _His grandmother had told him, when he was quite a
little fellow and was about to begin his school life, that every flower
in the Garden of Paradise was a delicious cake, and that the pistils
were full of wine._]
'Oh, why did Eve take of the tree of knowledge? Why did Adam eat the
forbidden fruit? If it had only been I it would not have happened! never
would sin have entered the world!'
This is what he said then, and he still said it when he was seventeen;
his thoughts were full of the Garden of Paradise.
He walked into the wood one day; he was alone, for that was his greatest
pleasure. Evening came on, the clouds drew up and it rained as if the
whole heaven had become a sluice from which the water poured in sheets;
it was as dark as it is otherwise in the deepest well. Now he slipped on
the wet grass, and then he fell on the bare stones which jutted out of
the rocky ground. Everything was dripping, and at last the poor Prince
hadn't got a dry thread on him. He had to climb over huge rocks where
the water oozed out of the thick moss. He was almost fainting; just then
he heard a curious murmuring and saw in front of him a big lighted cave.
A fire was burning in the middle, big enough to roast a stag, which was
in fact being done; a splendid stag with its huge antlers was stuck on a
spit, being slowly turned round between the hewn trunks of two fir
trees. An oldish woman, tall and strong enough to be a man dressed up,
sat by the fire throwing on logs from time to time.
'Come in, by all means!' she said; 'sit down by the fire so that your
clothes may dry!'
'There is a shocking draught here,' said the Prince, as he sat down on
the ground.
'It will be worse than this when my sons come home!' said the woman.
'You are in the cavern of the winds; my sons are the four winds of the
world! Do you understand?'
'Who are your sons?' asked the Prince.
'Well that's not so easy to answer when the question is stupidly put,'
said the woman. 'My sons do as they like; they are playing rounders now
with the clouds up there in the great hall,' and she pointed up into the
sky.
'Oh indeed!' said the Prince. 'You seem to speak very harshly, and you
are not so gentle as the women I generally see about me!'
'Oh, I daresay they have nothing else to do! I have to be harsh if I am
to keep my boys under control! But I can do it, although they are a
stiff-necked lot! Do you see those four sacks hanging on the wall? They
are just as frightened of them as you used to be of the cane behind the
looking-glass. I can double the boys up, I can tell you, and then they
have to go into the bag; we don't stand upon ceremony, and there they
have to stay; they can't get out to play their tricks till it suits me
to let them. But here we have one of them.' It was the Northwind who
came in with an icy blast; great hailstones peppered about the floor and
snow-flakes drifted in. He was dressed in bearskin trousers and jacket,
and he had a sealskin cap drawn over his ears. Long icicles were
hanging from his beard, and one hailstone after another dropped down
from the collar of his jacket.
'Don't go straight to the fire,' said the Prince. 'You might easily get
chilblains!'
'Chilblains!' said the Northwind with a loud laugh. 'Chilblains! they
are my greatest delight! What sort of a feeble creature are you? How did
you get into the cave of the winds?'
'He is my guest,' said the old woman, 'and if you are not pleased with
that explanation you may go into the bag! Now you know my opinion!'
This had its effect, and the Northwind told them where he came from, and
where he had been for the last month.
'I come from the Arctic seas,' he said. 'I have been on Behring Island
with the Russian walrus-hunters. I sat at the helm and slept when they
sailed from the north cape, and when I woke now and then the stormy
petrels were flying about my legs. They are queer birds; they give a
brisk flap with their wings and then keep them stretched out and
motionless, and even then they have speed enough.'
'Pray don't be too long-winded,' said the mother of the winds. 'So at
last you got to Behring Island!'
'It's perfectly splendid! There you have a floor to dance upon, as flat
as a pancake, half-thawed snow, with moss. There were bones of whales
and Polar bears lying about; they looked like the legs and arms of
giants covered with green mould. One would think that the sun had never
shone on them. I gave a little puff to the fog so that one could see the
shed. It was a house built of wreckage and covered with the skins of
whales; the flesh side was turned outwards; it was all red and green; a
living Polar bear sat on the roof growling. I went to the shore and
looked at the birds' nests, looked at the unfledged young ones screaming
and gaping; then I blew down thousands of their throats and they learnt
to shut their mouths. Lower down the walruses were rolling about like
monster maggots with pigs' heads and teeth a yard long!'
'You're a good story-teller, my boy!' said his mother. 'It makes my
mouth water to hear you!'
'Then there was a hunt! The harpoons were plunged into the walruses'
breasts, and the steaming blood spurted out of them like fountains over
the ice. Then I remembered my part of the game! I blew up and made my
ships, the mountain-high icebergs, nip the boats; whew! how they
whistled and how they screamed, but I whistled louder. They were obliged
to throw the dead walruses, chests and ropes out upon the ice! I shook
the snow-flakes over them and let them drift southwards to taste the
salt water. They will never come back to Behring Island!'
'Then you've been doing evil!' said the mother of the winds.
'What good I did, the others may tell you,' said he. 'But here we have
my brother from the west; I like him best of all; he smells of the sea
and brings a splendid cool breeze with him!'
'Is that the little Zephyr?' asked the Prince.
'Yes, certainly it is Zephyr, but he is not so little as all that. He
used to be a pretty boy once, but that's gone by!'
He looked like a wild man of the woods, but he had a padded hat on so as
not to come to any harm. He carried a mahogany club cut in the American
mahogany forests. It could not be anything less than that.
'Where do you come from?' asked his mother.
'From the forest wildernesses!' he said, 'where the thorny creepers make
a fence between every tree, where the water-snake lies in the wet grass,
and where human beings seem to be superfluous!'
'What did you do there?'
'I looked at the mighty river, saw where it dashed over the rocks in
dust and flew with the clouds to carry the rainbow. I saw the wild
buffalo swimming in the river, but the stream carried him away; he
floated with the wild duck, which soared into the sky at the rapids; but
the buffalo was carried over with the water. I liked that and blew a
storm, so that the primæval trees had to sail too, and they were whirled
about like shavings.'
'And you have done nothing else?' asked the old woman.
'I have been turning somersaults in the Savannahs, patting the wild
horse, and shaking down cocoanuts! Oh yes, I have plenty of stories to
tell! But one need not tell everything. You know that very well, old
woman!' and then he kissed his mother so heartily that she nearly fell
backwards; he was indeed a wild boy.
The Southwind appeared now in a turban and a flowing bedouin's cloak.
'It is fearfully cold in here,' he said, throwing wood on the fire; 'it
is easy to see that the Northwind got here first!'
'It is hot enough here to roast a polar bear,' said the Northwind.
'You are a polar bear yourself!' said the Southwind.
'Do you want to go into the bag?' asked the old woman. 'Sit down on that
stone and tell us where you have been.'
'In Africa, mother!' he answered. 'I have been chasing the lion with the
Hottentots in Kaffirland! What grass there is on those plains! as green
as an olive. The gnu was dancing about, and the ostriches ran races with
me, but I am still the fastest. I went to the desert with its yellow
sand. It looks like the bottom of the sea. I met a caravan! They were
killing their last camel to get water to drink, but it wasn't much they
got. The sun was blazing above, and the sand burning below. There were
no limits to the outstretched desert. Then I burrowed into the fine
loose sand and whirled it up in great columns--that was a dance! You
should have seen how despondently the dromedaries stood, and the
merchant drew his caftan over his head. He threw himself down before me
as if I had been Allah, his god. Now they are buried, and there is a
pyramid of sand over them all; when I blow it away, sometime the sun
will bleach their bones, and then travellers will see that people have
been there before, otherwise you would hardly believe it in the desert!'
'Then you have only been doing harm!' said the mother. 'Into the bag you
go!' And before he knew where he was she had the Southwind by the waist
and in the bag; it rolled about on the ground, but she sat down upon it
and then it had to be quiet.
'Your sons are lively fellows!' said the Prince.
'Yes, indeed,' she said; 'but I can master them! Here comes the fourth.'