In China, the emperor's palace was the most beautiful in the world, built entirely of porcelain. His vast garden extended to a noble forest sloping down to the deep blue sea. In one of these trees lived a nightingale, whose song was so beautiful that even busy fishermen would stop to listen. Travellers from all countries declared it the best of all wonders.
Books describing the emperor's city, palace, and gardens travelled the world, reaching the emperor himself. He was pleased until he read, "the nightingale is the most beautiful of all." Astonished, he summoned a lord-in-waiting. "Why have I not been told of this bird?" he demanded. The lord-in-waiting had never heard of it and searched the palace in vain, concluding it was a fable.
The emperor insisted, citing a book from the Emperor of Japan as proof. Threatened with being trampled, the court searched frantically. Finally, a little kitchen maid who listened to the nightingale each evening led them to the forest. After mistaking a cow's lowing and frogs' croaking for the song, they heard the true nightingale—a plain little gray bird.
Invited to court, the nightingale sang so enchantingly that tears rolled down the emperor's cheeks. He offered his golden slipper, but the nightingale declined, saying the emperor's tears were reward enough. The bird was kept at court in a cage, attended by twelve servants holding silken strings—a joyless existence.
One day, the emperor received an artificial nightingale, bejeweled and mechanical, a gift from Japan. It sang waltzes perfectly and repeatedly. The real nightingale, unnoticed, flew back to the woods. The court praised the artificial bird, and the music-master declared it superior. The real nightingale was banished.
Five years later, the emperor fell gravely ill. His court abandoned him for his successor. As Death sat upon his chest, surrounded by memories of his deeds, the emperor cried for music, but the unwound artificial bird was silent. Suddenly, the real nightingale returned, singing at the window. Her song brought hope, weakened Death's grip, and finally charmed Death away in exchange for the emperor's crown and sword.
The emperor recovered, grateful and remorseful. He offered to break the artificial bird, but the nightingale asked him to keep it. She promised to return each evening to sing of joy and sorrow, of the world beyond the palace, but asked that her visits remain a secret. Then she flew away, leaving the emperor, to the astonishment of his returning servants, alive and well.