The thick fog of an early autumnal morning obscured the extensive
courts which surrounded the Prince’s castle, but through the mists,
which gradually dispersed, a stranger might observe a cavalcade of
huntsmen, consisting of horse and foot, already engaged in their early
preparations for the field. The active employments of the domestics
were already discernible. These latter were engaged in lengthening
and shortening stirrup-leathers, preparing the rifles and ammunition,
and arranging the game-bags; whilst the dogs, impatient of restraint,
threatened to break away from the slips by which they were held. Then
the horses became restive, from their own high mettle, or excited by
the spur of the rider, who could not resist the temptation to make a
vain display of his prowess, even in the obscurity by which he was
surrounded. The cavalcade awaited the arrival of the Prince, who was
detained a little too long by the tender endearments of his young wife.
Lately married, they thoroughly appreciated the happiness of their own
congenial dispositions; both were lively and animated, and each shared
with delight the pleasures and pursuits of the other. The Prince’s
father had already survived and enjoyed that period of life when one
learns that all the members of a State should spend their time in
diligent employments, and that everyone should engage in some energetic
occupation corresponding with his taste, and should by this means first
acquire, and then enjoy, the fruits of his labor.
How far these maxims had proved successful might have been observed on
this very day, for it was the anniversary of the great market in the
town, a festival which might indeed be considered a species of fair.
The Prince had on the previous day conducted his wife on horseback
through the busy scene, and had caused her to observe what a convenient
exchange was carried on between the productions of the mountainous
districts and those of the plain, and he took occasion then and there
to direct her attention to the industrious character of his subjects.
But whilst the Prince was entertaining himself and his courtiers almost
exclusively with subjects of this nature, and was perpetually employed
with his finance minister, his chief huntsman did not lose sight of
his duty, and upon his representation it was impossible, during these
favorable autumnal days, any longer to postpone the amusement of the
chase, as the promised meeting had already been several times deferred,
not only to his own mortification, but to that of many strangers who
had arrived to take part in the sport.
The Princess remained, reluctantly, at home. It had been determined
to hunt over the distant mountains, and to disturb the peaceful
inhabitants of the forests in those districts by an unexpected
declaration of hostilities.
Upon taking his departure, the Prince recommended his wife to seek
amusement in equestrian exercise, under the conduct of her Uncle
Frederick; “and I commend you, moreover,” he said, “to the care of
our trusty Honorio, who will act as your esquire, and pay you every
attention”; and saying this as he descended the stairs, and gave the
proper instructions to a comely youth who stood at hand, the Prince
quickly disappeared amid the crowd of assembled guests and followers.
The Princess, who had continued waving her handkerchief to her husband
as long as he remained in the courtyard, now retired to an apartment
at the back of the castle, which showed an extensive prospect over the
mountain, as the castle itself was situated on the brow of the hill,
from which a view at once distant and varied opened in all directions.
She found the telescope in the spot where it had been left on the
previous evening, when they had amused themselves in surveying the
landscape, and the extent of mountain and forest, amid which the lofty
ruins of their ancestral castle were situated. It was a noble relic of
ancient times, and shone out gloriously in the evening illumination. A
grand but somewhat inadequate idea of its importance was conveyed by
the large masses of light and shadow which now fell upon it. Moreover,
by the aid of the telescope, the autumnal foliage was seen to lend
an indescribable charm to the prospect, as it waved upon trees which
had grown up amid the ruins, undisturbed and unmolested for countless
years. But the Princess soon turned the telescope in the direction of
a dry and sandy plain beneath her, across which the hunting cavalcade
was expected to bend its course. She patiently surveyed the spot,
and was at length rewarded, as the clear magnifying power of the
instrument enabled her delighted eyes to recognize the Prince and his
chief equerry. Upon this she once more waved her handkerchief as she
observed, or rather fancied she observed, a momentary pause in the
advance of the procession.
Her Uncle Frederick was now announced, and he entered the apartment,
accompanied by an artist, bearing a large portfolio under his arm.
“Dear cousin,” observed the worthy knight, addressing her, “we have
brought some sketches of the ancestral castle for your inspection,
to show how the old walls and battlements were calculated to afford
defense and protection in stormy seasons and in years gone by, though
they have tottered in some places, and in others have covered the plain
with their ruins. Our efforts have been unceasing to render the place
accessible, since few spots offer more beauty or sublimity to the eye
of the astonished traveler.”
The Prince continued, as he opened the portfolio containing the
different views. “Here, as you ascend the hollow way, through the outer
fortifications, you meet the principal tower, and a rock forbids all
further progress. It is the firmest of the mountain range. A castle
has been erected upon it, so constructed that it is difficult to say
where the work of nature ceases and the aid of art begins. At a little
distance, side-walls and buttresses have been raised, the whole forming
a sort of terrace. The height is surrounded by a wood. For upwards of
a century and a half, no sound of an axe has been heard within these
precincts, and giant trunks of trees appear on all sides. Close to the
very walls spring the glossy maple, the rough oak, and the tall pine.
They oppose our progress with their boughs and roots, and compel us
to make a circuit to secure our advance. See how admirably our artist
has sketched all this upon paper; how accurately he has represented
the trees as they become entwined amid the masonry of the castle, and
thrust their boughs through the opening in the walls. It is a solitude
which possesses the indescribable charm of displaying the traces of
human power long since passed away, contending with perpetual and still
reviving nature.”
Opening a second picture, he continued his discourse. “What say you
to this representation of the castle court, which has been rendered
impassable for countless years by the falling of the principal tower?
We endeavored to approach it from the side, and in order to form a
convenient private road, were compelled to blow up the old walls
and vaults with gunpowder. But there was no necessity for similar
operations within the castle walls. Here is a flat rocky surface which
has been leveled by the hand of nature, through which, however, mighty
trees have here and there been able to strike their roots. They have
thriven well, and thrust their branches into the very galleries where
the knights of old were wont to exercise, and have forced their way
through doors and windows into vaulted halls, from which they are not
likely now to be expelled, and whence we, at least, shall not remove
them. They have become lords of the territory, and may remain so.
Concealed beneath heaps of dried leaves, we found a perfectly level
floor, which probably cannot be equaled in the world.
“In ascending the steps which lead to the chief tower, it is remarkable
to observe, in addition to all that we have mentioned above, how a
maple-tree has taken root on high, and has grown to a great size, so
that in ascending to the highest turret to enjoy the prospect, it
is difficult to pass. And here you may refresh yourself beneath the
shade, for even at this elevation the tree of which we speak throws its
shadows over all around.
“We feel much indebted to the talented artist who, in the course of
several views, has brought thus the whole scenery as completely before
us as if we had actually witnessed the original scene. He selected
the most beautiful hours of the day and the most favorable season of
the year for his task, to which he devoted many weeks incessantly.
A small dwelling was erected for him and his assistant in a corner
of the castle; you can scarcely imagine what a splendid view of the
country, of the court, and of the ruins he there enjoyed. We intend
these pictures to adorn our country-house, and everyone who enjoys a
view of our regular parterres, of our bowers and shady walks, will
doubtless feel anxious to feed his imagination and his eyes with an
actual inspection of these scenes, and so enjoy at once the old and the
new, the firm and the pliant, the indestructible and the young, the
perishable and the eternal.”
Honorio now entered and announced the arrival of the horses. The
Princess thereupon addressing her uncle, expressed a wish to ride
up to the ruins and examine personally the subjects which he had so
graphically described. “Ever since my arrival here,” she said, “this
excursion has been intended, and I shall be delighted to accomplish
what has been declared almost impracticable, and what the pictures show
to be so difficult.”
“Not yet, my dear,” replied the Prince; “these pictures only portray
what the place will become, but many difficulties impede a commencement
of the work.”
“But let us ride a little towards the mountain,” she rejoined, “if only
to the beginning of the ascent; I have a great desire today to enjoy an
extensive prospect.”
“Your desire shall be gratified,” answered the Prince.
“But we will first direct our course through the town,” continued the
lady, “and across the market-place, where a countless number of booths
wear the appearance of a small town, or of an encampment. It seems as
if all the wants and occupations of every family in the country were
brought together and supplied in this one spot; for the attentive
observer may behold here whatever man can produce or require. You would
suppose that money was wholly unnecessary, and that business of every
kind could be carried on by means of barter; and such in fact is the
case. Since the Prince directed my attention to this view yesterday,
I have felt pleasure in observing the manner in which the inhabitants
of the mountain and of the valley mutually comprehend each other, and
how both so plainly speak their wants and their wishes in this place.
The mountaineer, for example, has cut the timber of his forests into
a thousand forms, and applied his iron to multifarious uses, while
the inhabitant of the valley meets him with his various wares and
merchandise, the very materials and object of which it is difficult to
know or to conjecture.”
“I am aware,” observed the Prince, “that my nephew devotes his
attention wholly to these subjects, for at this particular season of
the year he receives more than he expends; and this after all is the
object and end of every national financier, and indeed of the pettiest
household economist. But excuse me, my dear, I never ride with any
pleasure through the market or the fair; obstacles impede one at every
step, and my imagination continually recurs to that dreadful calamity,
which happened before my own eyes, when I witnessed the conflagration
of as large a collection of merchandise as is accumulated here. I had
scarcely--”
“Let us not lose our time,” said the Princess, interrupting him, as her
worthy uncle had more than once tortured her with a literal account of
the very same misfortune. It had happened when he was upon a journey,
and had retired fatigued to bed, in the best hotel of the town, which
was situated in the market-place. It was the season of the fair, and in
the dead of the night he was awakened by screams and by the columns of
fire which approached the hotel.
The Princess hastened to mount her favorite palfrey, and led the way
for her unwilling companion, when she rode through the front gate down
the hill, in place of passing through the back gate up the mountain.
But who could have felt unwilling to ride at her side or to follow
wherever she led? And even Honorio had gladly abandoned the pleasure of
his favorite amusement, the chase, in order to officiate as her devoted
attendant.
As we have before observed, they could only ride through the market
step by step, but the amusing observations of the Princess rendered
every pause delightful. “I must repeat my lesson of yesterday,” she
remarked, “for necessity will try our patience.” And in truth the
crowd pressed upon them in such a manner that they could only continue
their progress at a very slow pace. The people testified unbounded
joy at beholding the young Princess, and the complete satisfaction of
many a smiling face evinced the pleasure of the people at finding that
the first lady in the land was at once the most lovely and the most
gracious.
Mingled together promiscuously were rude mountaineers who inhabited
quiet cottages amongst bleak rocks and towering pine-trees, lowlanders
from the plains and meadows, and manufacturers from the neighboring
small towns. After quietly surveying the motley crowd, the Princess
remarked to her companion, that all the people she saw, seemed to take
delight in using more stuff for their garments than was necessary,
whether it consisted of cloth, linen, ribbon, or trimming. It seemed as
if the wearers, both men and women, thought they would be the better if
they looked a little larger.
“We must leave that matter to themselves,” answered the uncle; “every
man must dispose of his superfluity as he pleases; well for those who
spend it in mere ornament.”
The Princess nodded her assent.
They had now arrived at a wide open square which led to one of the
suburbs; they there perceived a number of small booths and stalls, and
also a large wooden building from whence a most discordant howling
issued. It was the feeding hour of the wild animals which were there
enclosed for exhibition. The lion roared with that fearful voice with
which he was accustomed to terrify both woods and wastes. The horses
trembled, and no one could avoid observing how the monarch of the
deserts made himself terrible in the tranquil circles of civilized
life. Approaching nearer, they remarked the tawdry colossal pictures
on which the beasts were painted in the brightest colors, intended
to afford irresistible temptation to the busy citizen. The grim and
fearful tiger was in the act of springing upon a Negro to tear him to
pieces. The lion stood in solemn majesty as if he saw no worthy prey
before him. Other wonderful creatures in the same group presented
inferior attractions.
“Upon our return,” said the Princess, “we will alight and take a nearer
inspection of these rare creatures.”
“Is it not extraordinary,” replied the Prince, “that man takes pleasure
in fearful excitements? The tiger, for instance, is lying quietly
enough within his cage, and yet here the brute must be painted in the
act of springing fiercely on a Negro, in order that the public may
believe that the same scene is to be witnessed within. Do not murder
and death, fire and desolation, sufficiently abound, but that every
mountebank must repeat such horrors? The worthy people like to be
alarmed, that they may afterwards enjoy the delightful sensation of
freedom and security.”
But whatever feelings of terror such frightful representations might
have inspired, they disappeared when they reached the gate, and
surveyed the cheerful prospects around. The road led down to a river,
a narrow brook in truth, and only calculated to bear light skiffs, but
destined afterwards, when swelled into a wider stream, to take another
name, and to water distant lands. They then bent their course further
through carefully cultivated fruit and pleasure gardens, in an orderly
and populous neighborhood, until first a copse and then a wood received
them as guests, and delighted their eyes with a limited but charming
landscape. A green valley leading to the heights above, which had been
lately mowed for the second time, and wore the appearance of velvet,
having been watered copiously by a rich stream, now received them with
a friendly welcome. They then bent their course to a higher and more
open spot, which, upon issuing from the wood, they reached after
a short ascent, and whence they obtained a distant view of the old
castle, the object of their pilgrimage, which shone above the groups of
trees, and assumed the appearance of a well-wooded rock. Behind them
(for no one ever attained this height without turning to look round),
they saw through occasional openings in the lofty trees, the Prince’s
castle on the left, illuminated by the morning sun; the higher portion
of the town obscured by a light cloudy mist, and on the right hand,
the lower part through which the river flowed in many windings, with
its meadows and its mills; whilst straight before them, the country
extended in a wide productive plain.
After they had satisfied their eyes with the landscape, or rather, as
is often the case in surveying an extensive view from an eminence,
when they had become desirous of a wider and less circumscribed
prospect, they rode slowly along a broad and stony plain, where they
saw the mighty ruin standing with its coronet of green, whilst its
base was clad with trees of lesser height; and proceeding onwards they
encountered the steepest and most impassable side of the ascent. It was
defended by enormous rocks which had endured for ages: proof against
the ravages of time, they were fast rooted in the earth and towered
aloft. One part of the castle had fallen, and lay in huge fragments
irregularly massed, and seemed to act as an insurmountable barrier, the
mere attempt to overcome which is a delight to youth, as supple limbs
ever find it a pleasure to undertake, to combat, and to conquer. The
Princess seemed disposed to make the attempt; Honorio was at hand, her
princely uncle assented, unwilling to acknowledge his want of agility.
The horses were directed to wait for them under the trees, and it was
intended they should make for a certain point where a large rock had
been rendered smooth, and from which a prospect was beheld, which,
though of the nature of a bird’s-eye view, was sufficiently picturesque.
It was mid-day, the sun had attained its highest altitude, and
shed its clearest rays around; the princely castle in all its
parts, battlements, wings, cupolas and towers, presented a glorious
appearance. The upper part of the town was seen in its full extent,
the eye could even penetrate into parts of the lower town, and with
the assistance of the telescope, distinguish the market place, and
even the very booths. It was Honorio’s invariable custom to sling this
indispensable instrument to his side. They took a view of the river,
in its course and its descent, and of the sloping plain, and of the
luxuriant country with its gentle undulations, and then of the numerous
villages, for it had been from time immemorial a subject of contention
how many could be counted, from this spot.
Over the wide plain there reigned a calm stillness, such as is
accustomed to rule at mid-day; an hour when, according to classical
phraseology, the god Pan sleeps, and all nature is breathless, that his
repose may be undisturbed.
“It is not the first time,” observed the Princess “that, standing upon
an eminence which presents a wide view, I have thought how pure and
peaceful is the look of holy Nature, and the impression comes upon me,
that the world beneath must be free from strife and care; but returning
to the dwellings of man, be they the cottage or the palace, be they
wide or circumscribed, we find that there is in truth ever something
to subdue, to struggle with, to quiet and allay.”
Honorio, in the meantime, had directed the telescope towards the
town, and now exclaimed, “Look, look! the town is on fire in the
market-place.”
They looked and saw a column of smoke arising, but the glare of
daylight eclipsed the flames. “The fire increases,” they exclaimed,
still looking through the instrument. The Princess saw the calamity
with the naked eye; from time to time they perceived a red flame
ascending amid the smoke. Her uncle at length exclaimed, “Let us
return; it is calamitous. I have always feared the recurrence of such a
misfortune.”
They descended, and having reached the horses, the Princess thus
addressed her old relative, “Ride forward, sir, hastily with your
attendant, but leave Honorio with me, and we will follow.”
Her uncle perceived the prudence and utility of this advice, and riding
on as quickly as the nature of the ground would allow, descended to
the open plain. The Princess mounted her steed, upon which Honorio
addressed her thus: “I pray your Highness to ride slowly; the
fire-engines are in the best order, both in the town and in the castle,
there can surely be no mistake or error even in so unexpected an
emergency. Here, however, the way is dangerous, and riding is insecure,
from the small stones and the smooth grass, and in addition, the fire
will no doubt be extinguished before we reach the town.”
But the Princess indulged in no such hope; she saw the smoke
ascend, and thought she perceived a flash of lightning and heard a
thunder-clap, and her mind was filled with the frightful pictures
of the conflagration which her uncle’s oft-repeated narrative had
impressed upon her.
That calamity had indeed been dreadful, sudden and impressive enough
to make one apprehensive for the repetition of a like misfortune. At
midnight a fearful fire had broken out in the market-place, which was
filled with booths and stalls, before the occupants of those temporary
habitations had been roused from their deep slumber. The Prince
himself, after a weary day’s journey, had retired to rest, but rushing
to the window, perceived with dismay the flames which raged around on
every side and approached the spot where he stood. The houses of the
market-place, crimsoned with the reflection, appeared already to burn,
and threatened every instant to burst out into a general conflagration.
The fierce element raged irresistibly, the beams and rafters crackled,
whilst countless pieces of consumed linen flew aloft, and the burnt
and shapeless rags sported in the air and looked like foul demons
revelling in their congenial element. With loud cries of distress,
each individual endeavored to rescue what he could from the flames.
Servants and assistants vied with their masters in their efforts to
save the huge bales of goods already half consumed, to tear what still
remained uninjured from the burning stalls, and to pack it away in
chests, although they were even then compelled to abandon their labors
and leave the whole to fall a prey to the conflagration. How many
wished that the raging blaze would allow but a single moment’s respite,
and pausing to consider the possibility of such a mercy, fell victims
to their brief hesitation. Many buildings burned on one side, while
the other side lay in obscure darkness. A few determined, self-willed
characters bent themselves obstinately to the task of saving something
from the flames, and suffered for their heroism. The whole scene
of misery and devastation was renewed in the mind of the beautiful
Princess; her countenance was clouded, which had beamed so radiantly
in the early morning; her eyes had lost their lustre, and even the
beautiful woods and meadows around now looked sad and mournful.
Riding onwards she entered the sweet valley, but she felt uncheered by
the refreshing coolness of the place. She had, however, not advanced
far, before she observed an unusual appearance in the copse near the
meadow where the sparkling brook which flowed through the adjacent
country took its rise. She at once recognized a tiger crouched in the
attitude to spring, as she had seen him represented in the painting.
The impression was fearful. “Fly! gracious lady,” cried Honorio,
“fly at once!” She turned her horse to mount the steep hill which
she had just descended, but her young attendant drew his pistol, and
approaching the monster, fired; unfortunately, he missed his mark,
the tiger leaped aside, the horse started, and the terrified beast
pursued his course and followed the Princess. The latter urged her
horse up the steep stony acclivity, forgetting for a moment that the
pampered animal she rode was unused to such exertions. But urged by
his impetuous rider, the spirited steed made a new effort, till at
length, stumbling at an inequality of the ground, after many attempts
to recover his footing, he fell exhausted to the ground. The Princess
released herself from the saddle with great expertness and presence
of mind, and brought her horse again to its feet. The tiger was in
pursuit at a slow pace. The uneven ground and sharp stones appeared
to retard his progress, though as Honorio approached, his speed and
strength seemed to be renewed. They now came nearer to the spot where
the Princess stood by her horse, and Honorio bending down, discharged a
second pistol. This time he was successful and shot the monster through
the head. The animal fell, and as he lay stretched upon the ground at
full length, gave evidence of that might and terror, which was now
reduced to a lifeless form. Honorio had leaped from his horse, and
was now kneeling on the body of the huge brute. He had already put an
end to his struggles, with the hunting knife which gleamed within his
grasp. He looked even more handsome and active than the Princess had
ever seen him in list or tournament. Thus had he oftentimes driven his
bullet through the head of the Turk in the riding-school, piercing his
forehead under the turban, and carried onward by his rapid courser, he
had oftentimes struck the Moor’s head to the ground with his shining
sabre. In all such knightly feats he was dexterous and successful, and
here he had found an opportunity for putting his skill to the test.
“Despatch him quickly,” said the Princess, faintly. “I fear he may
injure you with his claws.”
“There is no danger,” answered the youth, “he is dead enough, and I do
not wish to spoil his skin--it shall ornament your sledge next winter.”
“Do not jest at such a time,” continued the Princess; “such a moment
calls forth every feeling of devotion that can fill the heart.”
“And I never felt more devout than now,” added Honorio, “and therefore
are my thoughts cheerful; I only consider how this creature’s skin may
serve your pleasure.”
“It would too often remind me of this dreadful moment,” she replied.
“And yet,” answered the youth with burning cheek, “this triumph is more
innocent than that in which the arms of the defeated are borne in proud
procession before the conqueror.”
“I shall never forget your courage and skill,” rejoined the Princess,
“and let me add that you may during your whole life command the
gratitude and favor of the Prince. But rise, the monster is dead; rise,
I say, and let us think what next is to be done.”
“Since I find myself now kneeling before you,” replied Honorio, “let
me be assured of a grace, of a favor, which you can bestow upon me.
I have oftentimes implored your princely husband for permission to
set out upon my travels. He who dares aspire to the good fortune of
becoming your guest, should have seen the world. Travelers flock hither
from all quarters, and when the conversation turns on some town, or on
some peculiar part of the globe, your guests are asked if they have
never seen the same. No one can expect confidence who has not seen
everything. We must instruct ourselves for the benefit of others.”
“Rise,” repeated the Princess: “I can never consent to desire or
request anything contrary to the wish of my husband, but if I mistake
not, the cause of your detention here has already been removed. It was
the wish of your Prince to mark how your character should ripen, and
prove worthy of an independent nobleman, who might one day be required
to assert his honor abroad, as you have done hitherto here at Court,
and I doubt not that your present deed of bravery will prove as good a
passport as any youth can carry with him through the world.”
The Princess had scarcely time to mark, that instead of an expression
of youthful delight, a shade of grief now darkened his countenance,
and he could scarcely display his emotion, before a woman approached,
climbing the mountain hastily and leading a boy by the hand. Honorio
had just risen from his kneeling posture and seemed lost in thought,
when the woman advanced with piercing cries, and immediately flung
herself upon the lifeless body of the tiger. Her conduct, no less than
her gaudy and peculiar attire, bore evidence that she was the owner
and attendant of the animal. The boy by whom she was accompanied, was
remarkable for his sparkling eyes and jet-black hair. He carried a
flute in his hand, and he united his tears to those of his mother,
whilst, with a more calm but deep-felt sorrow than she displayed, he
knelt quietly at her side.
The violent expression of this wretched woman’s grief was succeeded by
a torrent of expostulations which rushed from her in broken sentences,
reminding one of a mountain stream whose course is interrupted by
impeding rocks. Her natural expressions, short and abrupt, were
forcible and pathetic; it would be a vain task to endeavor to translate
them into our idiom, we must be satisfied with their general meaning.
“They have murdered thee, poor animal, murdered thee without cause.
Tamely thou wouldest have lain down to await our arrival, for thy feet
pained thee, and thy claws were powerless. Thou didst lack thy burning
native sun to bring thee to maturity. Thou wert the most beautiful
animal of thy kind. Who ever beheld a more noble royal tiger stretched
out to sleep, than thou art as thou liest here never to rise again?
When in the morning thou awokest at the earliest dawn of day, opening
thy wide jaws and stretching out thy ruddy tongue, thou seemedst to us
to smile; and even when a growl burst from thee, still didst thou ever
playfully take thy food from the hand of a woman, or from the fingers
of a child. Long did we accompany thee in thy travels, and long was thy
society to us as indispensable as profitable. To us, in very truth, did
food come from the ravenous, and sweet refreshment from the strong. But
alas! this can never be again!”
She had not quite finished her lamentations, when a troop of horsemen
was observed riding in a body over the heights which led from the
castle. They were soon recognized as the hunting cavalcade of the
Prince, and he himself was at their head. Riding amongst the distant
hills, they had observed the dark columns of smoke which obscured the
atmosphere, and, pushing on over hill and dale, as if in the heat of
the chase, they had followed the course indicated by the smoke, which
served them as a guide. Rushing forwards, regardless of every obstacle,
they had come by surprise upon the astonished group, who presented a
remarkable appearance in the opening of the hills. The recognition of
each other produced a general surprise, and after a short pause, a few
words of explanation cleared up the apparent mystery. The Prince heard
with astonishment the extraordinary occurrence, as he stood surrounded
by the crowd of horsemen and pedestrian attendants. There seemed no
doubt about the necessary course. Orders and commands were at once
issued by the Prince.
A stranger now forced his way forward, and appeared within the
circle. He was tall of figure, and attired as gaudily as the woman
and her child. The members of the family recognized each other with
mutual surprise and pain. But the man, collecting himself, stood at a
respectful distance from the Prince, and addressed him thus:--
“This is not a moment for complaining. My lord and mighty master, the
lion has also escaped, and is concealed somewhere here in the mountain;
but spare him, I implore you; have mercy upon him, that he may not
perish, like this poor animal.”
“The lion escaped!” exclaimed the Prince. “Have you found his track?”
“Yes, sire. A peasant in the valley, who needlessly took refuge in a
tree, pointed to the direction he had taken--this is the way, to the
left; but perceiving a crowd of men and horses before me, I became
curious to know the occasion of their assembling, and hastened forward
to obtain help.”
“Well,” said the Prince, “the chase must begin in this direction. Load
your rifles, go deliberately to work; no misfortune can happen, if you
but drive him into the thick woods below us; but in truth, worthy man,
we can scarcely spare your favorite: why were you negligent enough to
let him escape?”
“The fire broke out,” replied the other, “and we remained quiet and
prepared; it spread quickly round, but raged at a distance from us. We
were provided with water in abundance, but suddenly an explosion of
gunpowder took place, and the conflagration immediately extended to us
and beyond us. We were too precipitate, and are now reduced to ruin.”
The Prince was still engaged in issuing his orders, and there was
general silence for a moment, when a man was observed flying, rather
than running, down from the castle. He was quickly recognized as the
watchman of the artist’s studio, whose business it was to occupy the
dwelling and to take care of the workmen. Breathless he advanced, and a
few words served to announce the nature of his business.
“The lion had taken refuge on the heights, and had lain down in the
sunshine behind the lofty walls of the castle. He was reposing at the
foot of an old tree, in perfect tranquillity. But,” continued the man,
in a tone of bitter complaint, “unfortunately I took my rifle to the
town yesterday, to have it repaired, or the animal had never risen
again; his skin, at least, would have been mine, and I had worn it in
triumph for my life.”
The Prince, whose military experience had often served him in time of
need--for he had frequently been in situations where unavoidable danger
pressed on every side--observed, in reply to the man, “What pledge can
you give, that if we spare your lion, he will do no mischief in the
country?”
“My wife and child,” answered the father, hastily, “will quiet him and
lead him peacefully along, until I repair his shattered cage, and then
we shall keep him harmless and uninjured.”
The child seemed to be looking for his flute. It was that species of
instrument which is sometimes called the soft, sweet flute, short in
the mouthpiece, like a pipe. Those who understood the art of using it,
could extract from it the most delicious tones.
In the meantime, the Prince inquired of the caretaker which path the
lion had ascended the mountain.
“Through the low road,” replied the latter; “It is walled in on both
sides, has long been the only passage, and shall continue so. Two
foot-paths originally led to the same spot, but we destroyed them, that
there might remain but one way to that castle of enchantment and beauty
which is to be formed by the taste and talent of Prince Frederick.”
After a thoughtful pause, during which the Prince stood contemplating
the child, who continued playing softly on his flute, the former turned
towards Honorio, and said:
“Thou hast this day rendered me an essential service; finish the task
you have begun. Occupy the narrow road of which we have heard, hold
your rifle ready, but do not shoot, if you think it likely that the
lion may be driven back; but under any circumstances kindle a fire,
that he may be afraid to descend in this direction. The man and his
wife must answer for the consequences.”
Honorio proceeded without delay to execute the orders he had received.
The child still continued to play upon his flute. He produced no exact
melody, as a mere succession of notes followed, without any precise
order or artistic arrangement, yet, perhaps for this very reason,
the effect seemed replete with enchantment. Every one was delighted
with the simple music, when the father, full of a noble enthusiasm,
addressed the assembled spectators thus:
“God has bestowed the gift of wisdom upon the Prince, and the power of
seeing that all Divine works are good, each after its kind. Behold how
the rocks stand firm and motionless, proof against the effects of sun
and storm. Their summits are crowned with ancient trees, and elated
with the pride of their ornaments, they look round boldly far and wide.
But should a part become detached, it no longer appears as before; it
breaks into a thousand pieces, and covers the side of the declivity.
But even there the pieces find no resting place; they pursue their
course downwards, till the brook receives them, and carries them onward
to the river. Thence, unresisting and submissive, their sharp angles
having become rounded and smooth, they are borne along with greater
velocity from stream to stream, till they finally attain the ocean, in
whose mighty depths giants abide and dwarfs abound.
“But who celebrates the praise of the Lord, whom the stars praise from
all eternity? Why, however, should we direct our vision so far? Behold
the bee, how he makes his provision in harvest time, and constructs a
dwelling, rectangular and level, at once the architect and workman.
Behold the ant, she knows her way, and loses it not; she builds her
habitation of grass and earth and tiny twigs, builds it high and
strengthens it with arches, but in vain,--the prancing steed approaches
and treads it into nothing, destroying the little rafters and supports
of the edifice. He snorts with impatience and with restlessness, for
the Lord has formed the horse as companion to the wind, and brother to
the storm, that he may carry mankind whither he will. But in the palm
forest even he takes to flight. There, in the wilderness, the lion
roams in proud majesty; he is monarch of the beasts, and nothing can
resist his strength. But man has subdued his valor; the mightiest of
animals has respect for the image of God, in which the very angels are
formed, and they minister to the Lord and His servants. Daniel trembled
not in the lions’ den; he stood full of faith and holy confidence, and
the wild roaring of the monsters did not interrupt his pious song.”
This address, which was delivered with an expression of natural
enthusiasm, was accompanied by the child’s sweet music. But when his
father had concluded, the boy commenced to sing with clear and sonorous
voice, and some degree of skill. His parent in the meantime seized his
flute, and in soft tones accompanied the child as he sang:
Hear the Prophet’s song ascending
From the cavern’s dark retreat,
Whilst an Angel, earthward bending,
Cheers his soul with accents sweet.
Fear and terror come not o’er him,
As the lion’s angry brood
Crouch with placid mien before him,
By his holy song subdued.
The father continued to accompany the verses with his flute, whilst the
mother’s voice was occasionally heard to intervene as second.
The effect of the whole was rendered more peculiar and impressive, by
the child’s frequently inverting the order of the verses. And if he did
not, by this artifice, give a new sense and meaning to the whole, he at
least highly excited the feelings of his audience:
Angels o’er us mildly bending,
Cheer us with their voices sweet,
Hark! what strains enchant the ear!
In the cavern’s dark retreat,
Can the Prophet quake with fear?
Holy accents sweetly blending,
Banish ev’ry earthly ill,
Whilst an Angel choir descending
Executes the heavenly will.
Then all three joined with force and emphasis:
Since the Eternal eye, far-seeing,
Earth and sea surveys in peace,
Lion shall with lamb agreeing
Live, and angry tempests cease.
Warriors’ sword no more shall lour,
Faith and Hope the fruit shall bear;
Wondrous is the mighty power
Of Love, which pours its soul in prayer.
The music ceased. Silence reigned around. Each one listened attentively
to the dying tones, and now for the first time could one observe and
note the general impression. Every listener was overcome, though each
was affected in a different manner. The Prince looked sorrowfully
at his wife, as though he had only just perceived the danger which
had lately threatened her, whilst she, leaning upon his arm, did not
hesitate to draw forth her embroidered handkerchief to dry the starting
tear. It was delightful to relieve her youthful heart from the weight
of grief with which she had for some time felt oppressed. A general
silence reigned around, and the fears were forgotten which all had
experienced both from the conflagration below and the appearance of the
formidable lion above.
The repose of the whole company was first interrupted by the Prince,
who made a signal to lead the horses nearer; he then turned to the
woman and addressed her thus: “You think, then, to master the lion
wherever you meet him, by the power of your song, assisted by that of
the child and the tones of your flute, and believe that you can thus
lead him harmless and uninjured to his cage?”
She protested and assured him that she would do so; whereupon a servant
was ordered to show her the way to the castle. The Prince and a few of
his attendants now took their departure hastily, whilst the Princess,
accompanied by the rest, followed more slowly after.
But the mother and the child, accompanied by the servant, who had armed
himself with a rifle, hastened to ascend the mountain.
At the very entrance of the narrow road which led to the castle they
found the hunting attendants busily employed in piling together heaps
of dry brushwood, to kindle a large fire.
“There is no necessity for such precaution,” observed the woman; “all
will yet turn out well.”
They perceived Honorio at a little distance from them, sitting
upon a fragment of the wall, with his double-barreled rifle in his
lap, prepared as it seemed for every emergency. But he paid little
attention to the people who approached; he was absorbed in his own
contemplations, and seemed engaged in deepest thought. The woman
entreated that he would not permit the fire to be kindled. He, however,
paid not the smallest attention to her request. She then raised her
voice, and exclaimed with a loud cry: “Thou handsome youth, who killed
my tiger, I curse thee not; but spare my lion, and I will bless thee.”
But Honorio was looking upon vacancy; his eyes were bent upon the sun,
which had finished its daily course and was now about to set.
“You are looking to the evening,” cried the woman, “and you are right,
for there is yet much to do; but hasten, delay not, and you will
conquer. But first of all, conquer yourself.” He seemed to smile at
this observation; the woman passed on, but could not avoid looking
round to observe him once more. The setting sun had cast a rosy glow
upon his countenance; she thought she had never beheld so handsome a
youth.
“If your child,” said the attendant, “can, as you imagine, with his
fluting and his singing, entice and tranquillize the lion, we shall
easily succeed in mastering him; for the ferocious animal has lain down
to sleep under the broken arch, through which we have secured a passage
into the castle court, as the chief entrance has been long in ruins.
Let the child then entice him into the interior, when we can close the
gate without difficulty, and the child may, if he please, escape by a
small winding staircase, which is situated in one of the corners. We
may in the meantime conceal ourselves, but I shall take up a position
which will enable me to assist the child at any moment with my rifle.”
“These preparations are all needless; Heaven, and our own skill,
bravery, and good fortune, are our best defense.”
“But first let me conduct you by this steep ascent to the top of the
tower, right opposite to the entrance of which I have spoken. The child
may then descend into the arena, and there he can try to exercise his
power over the obedient animal.”
This was done. Concealed above, the attendant and the mother surveyed
the proceeding. The child descended the narrow staircase, and soon
appeared in the wide court-yard. He immediately entered into the narrow
opening opposite, when the sweet sounds of his flute were heard, but
these gradually diminished till at length they finally ceased. The
pause was fearful--the solemnity of the proceeding filled the old
attendant with apprehension, accustomed as he was to every sort of
danger. He declared that he would rather engage the enraged animal
himself. But the mother preserved her cheerful countenance, and
leaning over the parapet in a listening attitude, betrayed no sign of
the slightest fear.
At length the flute was heard again. The child had issued from the dark
recess, his face beaming with triumph; the lion was slowly following,
and seemed to walk with difficulty. Now and then the animal appeared
disposed to lie down, but the child continued to lead him quietly
along, bending his way through the half-leafless autumn-tinged trees,
until he arrived at a spot which was illumined by the last rays of the
setting sun. They were shedding their parting glory through the ruins,
and in this spot he recommenced his sweet song, which we cannot refrain
from repeating:
Hear the Prophet’s song ascending
From the cavern’s dark retreat,
Whilst an Angel, earthward bending,
Cheers his soul with accents sweet.
Fear and terror come not o’er him,
As the lion’s angry brood
Crouch with placid mien before him,
By his holy song subdued.
The lion in the meantime had lain quietly down, and raising his
heavy paw, had placed it in the lap of the child. The latter stroked
it gently and continued his chant, but soon observed that a sharp
thorn had penetrated into the ball of the animal’s foot. With great
tenderness the child extracted the thorn, and taking his bright-colored
silk handkerchief from his neck, bound it round the foot of the huge
creature, whilst the attentive mother, still joyfully leaning over
the parapet with outstretched arms, would probably have testified her
approbation with loud shouts and clapping of hands, if the attendant
had not rudely seized her and reminded her that the danger was not yet
completely over.
The child now joyfully continued his song, after he had hummed a few
notes by way of prelude:
Since the Eternal eye, far-seeing,
Earth and sea surveys in peace,
Lion shall with lamb agreeing
Live, and angry tempests cease.
Warriors’ sword no more shall lour,
Faith and Hope their fruit shall bear;
Wondrous is the mighty power
Of Love, which pours its soul in prayer.
If it were possible to conceive that the features of so fierce a
monster, at once the tyrant of the forest and the despot of the animal
kingdom, could display an expression of pleasure and grateful joy,
it might have been witnessed upon this occasion; and in very truth,
the child, in the fulness of his beauty, looked like some victorious
conquerer, though it could not be said that the lion seemed subdued,
for his mighty power was only for a time concealed; he wore the aspect
of some domesticated creature, who had been content to make a voluntary
surrender of the mighty power with which it was endued. And thus the
child continued to play and to sing, transposing his verses or adding
to them, as he felt inclined:
Holy Angels, still untiring,
Aid the good and virtuous child
Every noble deed inspiring
And restraining actions wild.
So the forest king to render
Tame as child at parent’s knee,
Still be gentle, kind, and tender,
Use sweet love and melody.