THE WONDERFUL TUNE

Once upon a time, a young minstrel wandered over hill, over dale,

through the world, earning his bread as he strayed by piping on a

penny-pipe to all who cared for a tune. Young was he and little of

stature, his eyes and his hair were brown, and in bright blue was he

clad.

Now it came to pass that, as he wandered through the world, the little

minstrel said to himself one morn, “If some tunes make people merry,

and others make them sad, whilst still others make them dance, why

should there not be a tune so wondrously pleasant and gay that all who

chance to hear it must remain joyous of heart, and can never be sad

or bad or unhappy again? Down the roads of the world I shall seek the

wonderful tune.”

And, with this new thought in his mind, the little minstrel continued

on his way through the world, bidding good-morrow to all, questioning

all. And some there were who thought him mad and were scarcely civil;

others pushed him aside as a jesting vagabond; and there were even

those who would have cast him into prison as a disturber of the public

mind and a wandering rogue. But there were others, too, and these were

the brave and the merciful and the kind and the merry, who speeded him

on his way and wished him luck in his quest.

The summer ripened and came to an end; the crackled leaves tumbled and

fled before a howling wind; snow covered the lonely fields; and still

the little minstrel roamed the world, seeking the wonderful tune.

Now it fortuned that, as the little minstrel turned his steps to the

west, he arrived in the city of a king whose court musician was said to

know all the tunes in the world. Travel-worn, brown of face, and humbly

clad as he was, the youth made his way through the palace and, cap in

hand, knocked gently at the great musician’s door.

From behind the little green door, long runs and wiggles and cascades

of tinkling notes came dancing out into the quiet of the deserted

marble corridor. The youth knocked yet again. Presently the notes

ceased, and, opening the door with a stately bow, the court musician

invited the young wanderer within.

And now the youth found himself in a pleasant room, painted a fair

apple-green and set about with panels edged with gold; the furniture,

too, was painted green and gold, and there were flowered curtains, a

dozing cat, and a china bowl. As for the court musician, he was clad in

a superb costume of the most fashionable lavender brocade.

“Honored Master,” said the little minstrel respectfully, “I am roaming

the world for a tune so pleasant and merry that, once men have heard

it, they can never be sad or bad or unhappy again. Pray do you know

this wonderful tune?”

“Yes, indeed, I know many a wonderful tune,” replied the court

musician. “Listen, now, was it this?” And, seating himself at a gay

green-and-gold harpsichord, the court musician played a merry song full

of the most elegant tinkles and trills.

“No, I am sure that is not the wonderful tune,” said the little

minstrel, looking through an open window at tiny clouds sailing the

sunny sky of a mild midwinter day.

“Then surely this is it,” said the court musician, playing a second

merry tune.

But the little minstrel shook his head once more.

“Dear me, dear me! Not the wonderful tune?” exclaimed the court

musician, wrinkling his brow and pursing his lips. “Ah! Wait! I think

I have it!” And this time he lifted the cover of the green-and-gold

harpsichord so that the minstrel could see the little picture of

frolicking shepherds painted upon it, and played a long, harmonious,

and majestical strain.

But the little minstrel shook his head again.

“My young friend,” said the court musician, with something of a

fatherly air, closing the harpsichord as he spoke, “I have played for

you the only three tunes I know which might be the wonderful tune. Are

you quite sure you are not wasting your life upon this quest? Perhaps

such a tune as you tell of was once known in the world, and is only

hidden away; yet again, perhaps it is all only a dream. You should go

to the Kingdom of Music, and inquire.”

“The Kingdom of Music,” cried the youth. “I’ve never heard of such a

realm. Pray, sir, by what road does one go?”

“Come!” said the court musician, taking the youth by the arm and

leading him to the open window. “See you that land of blue cloud-capped

hills at the world’s edge, and the broad and winding river which

disappears among them? You have but to follow that stream. Farewell,

young friend, the world is before you, and may you find the wonderful

tune!”

League after league and day after day, the little minstrel followed

the winding river, till spring stood upon the hills. And now, with the

first sight of the new leaves, the little minstrel arrived in the land

of melody. It was a goodly land, this Kingdom of Music--a rolling land

of great fields, sweeping cloud-shadows, and ancient oaken groves: a

land of pleasant murmurs and sweet sounds. Only birds with pretty songs

dwelt in the Kingdom of Music, and they sang more sweetly there than in

any other kingdom of the world; the very crickets had a more tuneful

chirp, the river a more various music, and even the winds blew merry

tunes as they whistled through the trees.

Rejoicing in the kingdom and its sounds, the little minstrel was

strolling along, half in a dream, when of a sudden sky and land were

filled with a strange, huge, earth-shaking sound, a sound of the

scraping of thousands of fiddles; of the blowing of thousands of

horns, flutes, trumpets, trombones, and clarinets; of the clashing

and clanging and thumping and bethumping of thousands of bass drums,

kettle-drums, and cymbals; indeed, in all his wanderings the little

minstrel had never heard such a din.

The King of the Kingdom of Music was rehearsing his orchestra.

Every single person in the kingdom, whether man, woman, or child, was

a member of this orchestra. Babies alone were excepted, though on one

occasion the King had made use of a gifted child with a musical howl!

Now, when the rehearsal had come to an end and quiet had returned to

the land, the little minstrel made his way to the royal city, obtained

an audience with the King, and asked for news of the wonderful tune.

“The wonderful tune,” said the King from his throne, nodding gravely.

“Yes, once there was even such a wonderful tune! In those days peace

and plenty reigned in the world, and everyone was happy at his task

beneath the sun. One luckless eve, alas! the tune in some manner

happened to get broken up into notes; and before anyone could help it,

these notes were scattered and lost through all the kingdoms of the

world. Young man, I fear your search is in vain; never more shall the

sons and daughters of men hear the wonderful tune.”

“But perhaps someone might gather the notes together again,” said the

little minstrel eagerly.

“Many have tried to do so,” replied the King. “Of those who fared away,

some returned weary in the days of their youth, others crept back in

old age, and others yet were lost forevermore. And never a one returned

with a single note of the wonderful tune.”

“Then is the time come for a new search,” cried out the little minstrel

bravely. “Farewell, O King of the Kingdom of Music, for I must be off

gathering the notes in the highways of the world.”

“Farewell, good youth,” answered the King. “Return to us when your

quest is ended; and may you come piping the wonderful tune.”

And now the little minstrel found himself on the roads of the world

again, strolling from the first chill gold-and-gray of laggard dawns to

the twilight world of meadows in the gathering dark and village bells

sounding faintly afar.

Seven long years rolled over the world; the little minstrel searched

diligently and far and wide, yet never a trace could he find of a

single note of the wonderful tune. His blue coat, which had been so

gay, was now sadly tattered and torn; even his penny-pipe had a dent in

it, and his shoes, alas! were scarce worth the putting-on in the morn.

Now it came to pass, on a day in the early winter, that the little

minstrel arrived in a northern land and followed a woodland road

through the silence and the cold. The sky was overcast with a wide tent

of dull gray cloud, through which a sun swam, cold as a moon; and the

whole world was very still--so still indeed that the only sound the

little minstrel could hear was the scattering of the leaves beneath his

feet. Twilight came, and found the little minstrel far from a house or

village; a cold wind arose, and presently a thick snow began to fall.

And now the night and the snow closed in upon the wanderer. Huddled

in his ragged cloak, the little minstrel trudged bravely on into the

whirling storm; but little by little the cold crept into his body and

bones, a weariness and a hunger for sleep overcame him, and suddenly he

sank unknowing in the brambles by the road.

When he opened his eyes again, a great open fire was burning before

him on a huge hearth; a blue mug of steaming milk lay waiting at one

side; and over him there bent anxiously two kindly young folk--a sturdy

country-lad in a green smock, and a pretty lass in a dress of homespun

brown. These twain were a young husband and wife who lived in a little

house in the wood, loving each other dearly, working contentedly

at their daily tasks, and dealing hospitably and generously with

all. Returning through the storm from a distant sheepfold, the young

countryman had found the little minstrel lying in the snow and had

carried him on his shoulders to the shelter of his home.

After a few days had passed, and the little minstrel felt quite himself

again, he told his generous friends of his search for the notes of the

wonderful tune. It was at night that he told of his quest; the supper

had been cleared away, the house was still, and the little minstrel and

his hosts were gathered by the fire.

“A note of the wonderful tune--bless me, but I think we have one in

this house!” exclaimed the young wife. And she went to the mantel and

fished about in an ancient brown bowl standing in the gloom. “Yes, here

it is, sure enough--a note of the wonderful tune!”

And thus did it come to pass that the little minstrel obtained the

first note of the wonderful tune; for the young husband and wife were

quick to make a gift of it to their guest.

But now you must hear how he found all the notes save the last.

The second note the little minstrel discovered on a glorious midsummer

day. It had lain in an old bird’s-nest in the heart of a great tree,

and a chance breeze tumbled nest and note together at the minstrel’s

feet.

The third note had been hidden away amid the books of a famous scholar

who lived all alone in an ancient tower, gathering the wisdom of the

world.

The fourth note was given the minstrel by a little child whose toy it

was.

The fifth note was turned up out of the earth, on a spring morning, by

a whistling ploughman who saw the minstrel passing by and called to him

to come and see the strange thing he had found.

The sixth note the minstrel had of a weaver, who labored in his own

house at his own loom and upon it wove fair and beautiful things.

The seventh note a great nobleman possessed; he dwelt in his castle

free of little fears and mean rivalries; and truth and courage and

honor were his squires.

The eighth note the minstrel had of a young sailor, who chanced to

discover it in an old ship that sailed the seas.

Of the ninth and last note, however, there was still no sign; so the

little minstrel put the eight others into his pocket that had no hole

in it, and turned again to his quest. And presently he walked over a

hill into the Kingdom of the Blue Lakes, where reigned the Lady Amoret.

Now the Kingdom of the Blue Lakes was quite the fairest of all the

kingdoms of the world, and Amoret the fairest Queen. Her palace stood

on an open hill by her kingdom’s eastern bound; of golden-white marble

was it made, and from its terrace one looked westward to distant

mountains over a woodland bright with lakes. All day long there a gay

court of lords and ladies in silks and fine array held festival; the

music of lutes and violins was ever to be heard; and scarce an hour

there was but had its pleasure, and scarce a pleasure but had its hour.

Clad in a queen’s robe of scarlet and cloth of gold, and seated in a

jeweled throne raised upon the terrace, the Lady Amoret received the

ragged pilgrim of the tune.

“The last note of the wonderful tune?” said the Lady Amoret. “Seek no

more; it is here. Beyond the palace domain, by a lake in the depths of

the wildwood, my court fool has built for himself a bower, and upon its

wall hangs the last note of the wonderful tune. Tarry with us a while,

and you shall have it. I promise you.”

“May I not go this very instant and find it, Your Majesty?” asked the

little minstrel anxiously. “Long have I roamed the world in search of

it, and I need it so for the tune!”

“Nay, tarry a while,” answered the Queen, unyielding; “for even were

I to bid you go, you would never find the bower, so cunningly is it

hidden in the wood. You have wandered long and afar, good friend; tarry

now a while from your quest. My kingdom is the fairest in the world,

and you shall have all you desire.”

And Amoret gave a command that new apparel of the fairest blue cloth be

prepared for the little minstrel and that a place be set for him at the

royal board.

Now it came to pass that, as the Lady Amoret and her court beheld how

brave a youth the little minstrel appeared in his new apparel, and

hearkened to the thousand wonderful tales he had to tell of his quest,

they found him the best company in the world and determined to hold him

in the realm. To this end, therefore, they strove to drown the memory

of his quest in a tide of gayest merriments; but, in spite of feasts

and festivals, the little minstrel never once forgot the last note of

the wonderful tune.

Try as he might, the little minstrel could never find the note. Again

and again he had tried to make his way to the fool’s bower, only to

lose himself in the tangled paths of the wildwood; again and again he

had questioned the court fool, only to be met with a mocking courtesy,

a finger to the lips, and a jesting wink of the eye. One day he even

ventured to remind the Lady Amoret of her promise, but she only laughed

at him for his impatience and swept him off in her golden boat to a

pageant on the lakes.

Now it happened on the following morning that the Lady Amoret, taking

counsel with her court, determined to destroy the note, lest the

minstrel should discover it, and go. Summoning the captain of the

palace guard before her, she said to him:--

“Go to-night to the bower of the court fool; take the last note of the

wonderful tune, and fling it into the depths of the lake.”

* * * * *

And now it was night, and the lords and ladies of the court, strolling

forth from dinner, walked through the palace to the terrace of the

west. A storm was gathering afar, an approaching thunder growled, and

lightning, flashing in the sky, was mirrored in the waters of the

lakes. Presently there came wind and a patter of rain, and soldiers of

the palace guard entered to close the windows and the doors.

The little minstrel stood apart by a great window, gazing forth into

the darkness and the storm. His fine new clothes weighed like lead upon

his shoulders; his jeweled neckcloth scarce left him free to breathe;

and with all his heart he longed for his rags, his liberty, and the

cool rain on his eyes.

But the last note--he could not leave that behind. Suddenly he heard

one soldier say to another:--

“Our companions will be caught in the storm; they have ridden forth

with the captain to the fool’s bower, to destroy the last note of the

wonderful tune.”

“Oh, the note, the note, my note! Oh, what shall I do?” cried the

minstrel, his heart sinking into depths of despair. “Even now it may

be lost to the world--this time forever! I must find the court fool;

he shall tell me where the bower lies!” And he looked about in the

splendid throng for the fantastic motley of the fool; but he saw only

many in rich garments, and the gleam of jewels reflecting many lights.

Suddenly he chanced to recall that the court fool dwelt in the garret

of the palace, so up great and little stairs he fled to the fool’s

chamber in the eaves. The rain was now falling in torrents on the roof

close overhead, and all at once a terrible peal of thunder shook the

palace to its depths. Never pausing to knock, the little minstrel burst

in at the door.

Candles were burning within the humble chamber, lightning flared at an

oval window, and the court fool stood in the centre of the floor, still

in his motley clad.

“My friend,” said the court fool, with a low bow and a mocking smile,

“allow me to present you with the last note of the wonderful tune.”

And with those words he handed the note to the very much astonished

youth.

“I feared lest mishap destroy it,” continued the court fool, “so

yestereve I took it from my bower. You see, I believe in the wonderful

tune; and without my note, this last note, your tune would scarce be

worth the playing. And now, your hand, little minstrel, for you must

hurry away at once through the wind and rain.”

So the minstrel pressed the hand of the court fool and, hastening down

a tiny corner staircase, went forth into the storm. And as he fled, he

cried aloud to the thunder and the rain and the wild wind:--

“The wonderful tune, the wonderful tune! I have it, I have it--the

wonderful tune!”

And now the storm wore itself away, the summer stars shone forth in the

clearest of blue skies, and the only sound to be heard was the rain

drip-dripping from the trees. Drenched to the skin, but with a fire of

joy in his heart, the minstrel hurried through the night toward the

Kingdom of Music far away.

When he arrived there, on a summer’s morning, he found the people of

the palace assembled in the hall of state, and the King upon his throne.

“I have it, Your Majesty!” cried out the little minstrel breathlessly;

“I have it, every note; here is the wonderful tune!”

“What! The wonderful tune?” cried the King, leaping to his

feet. “Quick, somebody, ring all the bells, send trumpeters

through the streets, assemble the orchestra, and call hither the

Violinist-in-Chief, the Lord Organist, and the Grand Harper. We shall

play it over at once!”

* * * * *

“H-m,” said the Violinist-in-Chief, after he had put on his

huge spectacles and studied the wonderful tune, “Don’t you feel

that those last bars ought to be played very fast, like this:

tum-diddy-tum--tum-diddy-tum--tum-diddy-tum--diddy-dum-dum-dum?”

[Illustration: _“No, I do not agree with you,” shouted the Lord

Organist_]

“No, I do _not_ agree with you,” replied the Lord Organist, a huge

personage with a majestic air and a bad temper. “Those bars should

be played slowly,” here he waved a large, solemn finger, “like this:

tum--tum--tum--tum--tum--tum--tum--tum--tum!”

“You are both entirely wrong,” interrupted the Grand Harper, a

short contradictory fellow with long arms and long fingers. “To

my way of thinking the entire tune should be played throughout

in the same time, in this fashion; listen to my tapping now:

da-da--dee-dee--da-da--dee-dee--da-da--dee-do-dum.”

“Impossible! Absurd! No, never!” cried the Lord Organist and the

Violinist-in-Chief in one long indignant breath. “We appeal to the

King!”

But the King had ideas of his own on the matter.

And thus it was that the musicians all took to quarreling as to how the

wonderful tune should be played, and are quarreling still.

But some day they will make up their minds as to how it should go; the

little minstrel will leave the Kingdom of Music and come through the

world piping the tune; and then, oh, then, what times there will be!