who was brother to the Great Pope of Rome and to the Emperor of
Allemaine. He was a very selfish king, and very proud; he cared more for
his pleasures than for the needs of his people, and his heart was so
filled with his own greatness that he had no thought for God.
One day, this proud king was sitting in his place at church, at vesper
service; his courtiers were about him, in their bright garments, and he
himself was dressed in his royal robes. The choir was chanting the Latin
service, and as the beautiful voices swelled louder, the king noticed
one particular verse which seemed to be repeated again and again. He
turned to a learned clerk at his side and asked what those words meant,
for he knew no Latin.
"They mean, 'He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and hath
exalted them of low degree,'" answered the clerk.
"It is well the words are in Latin, then," said the king angrily, "for
they are a lie. There is no power on earth or in heaven which can put me
down from my seat!" and he sneered at the beautiful singing, as he
leaned back in his place.
Presently the king fell asleep, while the service went on. He slept
deeply and long. When he awoke the church was dark and still, and he was
all alone. He, the king, had been left alone in the church, to awake in
the dark! He was furious with rage and surprise, and, stumbling through
the dim aisles, he reached the great doors and beat at them, madly,
shouting for his servants.
The old sexton heard some one shouting and pounding in the church, and
thought it was some drunken vagabond who had stolen in during the
service. He came to the door with his keys and called out, "Who is
there?"
"Open! open! It is I, the king!" came a hoarse, angry voice from within.
"It is a crazy man," thought the sexton; and he was frightened. He
opened the doors carefully and stood back, peering into the darkness.
Out past him rushed the figure of a man in tattered, scanty clothes,
with unkempt hair and white, wild face. The sexton did not know that he
had ever seen him before, but he looked long after him, wondering at his
wildness and his haste.
In his fluttering rags, without hat or cloak, not knowing what strange
thing had happened to him, King Robert rushed to his palace gates,
pushed aside the startled servants, and hurried, blind with rage, up the
wide stair and through the great corridors, toward the room where he
could hear the sound of his courtiers' voices. Men and women servants
tried to stop the ragged man, who had somehow got into the palace, but
Robert did not even see them as he fled along. Straight to the open
doors of the big banquet hall he made his way, and into the midst of the
grand feast there.
The great hall was filled with lights and flowers; the tables were set
with everything that is delicate and rich to eat; the courtiers, in
their gay clothes, were laughing and talking; and at the head of the
feast, on the king's own throne, sat a king. His face, his figure, his
voice were exactly like Robert of Sicily; no human being could have told
the difference; no one dreamed that he was not the king. He was dressed
in the king's royal robes, he wore the royal crown, and on his hand was
the king's own ring. Robert of Sicily, half naked, ragged, without a
sign of his kingship on him, stood before the throne and stared with
fury at this figure of himself.
The king on the throne looked at him. "Who art thou, and what dost thou
here?" he asked. And though his voice was just like Robert's own, it had
something in it sweet and deep, like the sound of bells.
"I am the king!" cried Robert of Sicily. "I am the king, and you are an
impostor!"
The courtiers started from their seats, and drew their swords. They
would have killed the crazy man who insulted their king; but he raised
his hand and stopped them, and with his eyes looking into Robert's eyes
he said, "Not the king; you shall be the king's jester! You shall wear
the cap and bells, and make laughter for my court. You shall be the
servant of the servants, and your companion shall, be the jester's ape."
With shouts of laughter, the courtiers drove Robert of Sicily from the
banquet hall; the waiting-men, with laughter, too, pushed him into the
soldiers' hall; and there the pages brought the jester's wretched ape,
and put a fool's cap and bells on Robert's head. It was like a terrible
dream; he could not believe it true, he could not understand what had
happened to him. And when he woke next morning, he believed it was a
dream, and that he was king again. But as he turned his head, he felt
the coarse straw under his cheek instead of the soft pillow, and he saw
that he was in the stable, with the shivering ape by his side. Robert of
Sicily was a jester, and no one knew him for the king.
Three long years passed. Sicily was happy and all things went well under
the king, who was not Robert. Robert was still the jester, and his heart
grew harder and more bitter with every year. Many times, during the
three years, the king, who had his face and voice, had called him to
himself, when none else could hear, and had asked him the one question,
"Who art thou?" And each time that he asked it his eyes looked into
Robert's eyes, to find his heart. But each time Robert threw back his
head and answered, proudly, "I am the king!" And the other king's eyes
grew sad and stern.
At the end of three years, the Pope called the Emperor of Allemaine and
the King of Sicily, his brothers, to a great meeting in his city of
Rome. The King of Sicily went, with all his soldiers and courtiers and
servants,--a great procession of horsemen and footmen. Never had there
been seen a finer sight than the grand train, men in bright armour,
riders in wonderful cloaks of velvet and silk, servants, carrying
marvellous presents to the Pope. And at the very end rode Robert, the
jester. His horse was poor and old, many-coloured, and the ape rode with
him. Every one in the villages through which they passed ran after the
jester, and pointed and laughed.
The Pope received his brothers and their trains in the square before
Saint Peter's. With music and flags and flowers he made the King of
Sicily welcome, and greeted him as his brother. In the midst of it, the
jester broke through the crowd and threw himself before the Pope. "Look
at me!" he cried; "I am your brother, Robert of Sicily! This man is an
impostor, who has stolen my throne. I am Robert, the king!"
The Pope looked at the poor jester with pity, but the Emperor of
Allemaine turned to the King of Sicily, and said, "Is it not rather
dangerous, brother, to keep a madman as jester?" And again Robert was
pushed back among the serving-men.
It was Holy Week, and the king and the emperor, with all their trains,
went every day to the great services in the cathedral. Something
wonderful and holy seemed to make these services more beautiful than
ever before. All the people of Rome felt it: it was as if the presence
of an angel were there. Men thought of God, and felt His blessing on
them. But no one knew who it was that brought the beautiful feeling. And
when Easter Day came, never had there been so lovely, so holy a day: in
the great churches, filled with flowers, and sweet with incense, the
kneeling people listened to the choirs singing, and it was like the
voices of angels; their prayers were more earnest than ever before,
their praise more glad; there was something heavenly in Rome.
Robert of Sicily went to the services with the rest, and sat in the
humblest place with the servants. Over and over again he heard the
sweet voices of the choirs chant the Latin words he had heard long ago:
_He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted them of
low degree_. And at last, as he listened, his heart was softened. He,
too, felt the strange blessed presence of a heavenly power. He thought
of God, and of his own wickedness; he remembered how selfish he had
been, and how little good he had done; he realised, that his power had
not been from himself, at all. On Easter night, as he crept to his bed
of straw, he wept, not because he was so wretched, but because he had
not been a better king when power was his.
At last all the festivities were over, and the King of Sicily went home
to his own land again, with his people. Robert the jester came home too.
On the day of their home-coming, there was a special service in the
royal church, and even after the service was over for the people, the
monks held prayers of thanksgiving and praise. The sound of their
singing came softly in at the palace windows. In the great banquet room,
the king sat, wearing his royal robes and his crown, while many subjects
came to greet him. At last, he sent them all away, saying he wanted to
be alone; but he commanded the jester to stay. And when they were alone
together the king looked into Robert's eyes, as he had done before, and
said, softly, "Who art thou?"
Robert of Sicily bowed his head. "Thou knowest best," he said, "I only
know that I have sinned."
As he spoke, he heard the voices of the monks singing, _He hath put down
the mighty from their seat_,--and his head sank lower. But suddenly the
music seemed to change; a wonderful light shone all about. As Robert
raised his eyes, he saw the face of the king smiling at him with a
radiance like nothing on earth, and as he sank to his knees before the
glory of that smile, a voice sounded with the music, like a melody
throbbing on a single string,--
"I am an angel, and thou art the king!"
Then Robert of Sicily was alone. His royal robes were upon him once
more; he wore his crown and his royal ring. He was king. And when the
courtiers came back they found their king kneeling by his throne,
absorbed in silent prayer.
FOOTNOTES:
[28] Adapted from Longfellow's poem.
THE JEALOUS COURTIERS[29]
I wonder if you have ever heard the anecdote about the artist of
Düsseldorf and the jealous courtiers. This is it. It seems there was
once a very famous artist who lived in the little town of Düsseldorf. He
did such fine work that the Elector, Prince Johann Wilhelm, ordered a
portrait statue of himself, on horseback, to be done in bronze. The
artist was overjoyed at the commission, and worked early and late at the
statue.
At last the work was done, and the artist had the great statue set up in
the public square of Düsseldorf, ready for the opening view. The Elector
came on the appointed day, and with him came his favourite courtiers
from the castle. Then the statue was unveiled. It was very
beautiful,--so beautiful that the prince exclaimed in surprise. He could
not look enough, and presently he turned to the artist and shook hands
with him, like an old friend. "Herr Grupello," he said, "you are a great
artist, and this statue will make your fame even greater than it is; the
portrait of me is perfect!"
When the courtiers heard this, and saw the friendly hand-shake, their
jealousy of the artist was beyond bounds. Their one thought was, how
could they safely do something to humiliate him. They dared not pick
flaws in the portrait statue, for the prince had declared it perfect.
But at last one of them said, with an air of great frankness, "Indeed,
Herr Grupello, the portrait of his Royal Highness is perfect; but permit
me to say that the statue of the horse is not quite so successful: the
head is too large; it is out of proportion."
"No," said another, "the horse is really not so successful; the turn of
the neck, there, is awkward."
"If you would change the right hind-foot, Herr Grupello," said a third,
"it would be an improvement."
Still another found fault with the horse's tail.
The artist listened, quietly. When they had all finished, he turned to
the prince and said, "Your courtiers, prince, find a good many flaws in
the statue of the horse; will you permit me to keep it a few days more,
to do what I can with it?"
The Elector assented, and the artist ordered a temporary screen to be
built around the statue, so that his assistants could work undisturbed.
For several days the sound of hammering came steadily from behind the
enclosure. The courtiers, who took care to pass that way, often, were
delighted. Each one said to himself, "I must have been right, really;
the artist himself sees that something was wrong; now I shall have
credit for saving the prince's portrait by my artistic taste!"
Once more the artist summoned the prince and his courtiers, and once
more the statue was unveiled. Again the Elector exclaimed at its beauty,
and then he turned to his courtiers, one after another, to see what they
had to say.
"Perfect!" said the first. "Now that the horse's head is in proportion,
there is not a flaw."
"The change in the neck was just what was needed," said the second; "it
is very graceful now."
"The rear right foot is as it should be, now," said a third, "and it
adds so much to the beauty of the whole!"
The fourth said that he considered the tail greatly improved.
"My courtiers are much pleased now," said the prince to Herr Grupello;
"they think the statue much improved by the changes you have made."
Herr Grupello smiled a little. "I am glad they are pleased," he said,
"but the fact is, I have changed nothing!"
"What do you mean?" said the prince in surprise. "Have we not heard the
sound of hammering every day? What were you hammering at then?"
"I was hammering at the reputation of your courtiers, who found fault
simply because they were jealous," said the artist. "And I rather think
that their reputation is pretty well hammered to pieces!"
It was, indeed. The Elector laughed heartily, but the courtiers slunk
away, one after another, without a word.
FOOTNOTES:
[29] Adapted from H.A. Guerber's _Märchen und Erzählungen_ (D.C. Heath &
Co.).
PRINCE CHERRY[30]
There was once an old king, so wise and kind and true that the most
powerful good fairy of his land visited him and asked him to name the
dearest wish of his heart, that she might grant it.
"Surely you know it," said the good king; "it is for my only son, Prince
Cherry; do for him whatever you would have done for me."
"Gladly," said the great fairy; "choose what I shall give him. I can
make him the richest, the most beautiful, or the most powerful prince in
the world; choose."
"None of those things are what I want," said the king. "I want only that
he shall be good. Of what use will it be to him to be beautiful, rich,
or powerful, if he grows into a bad man? Make him the best prince in the
world, I beg you!"
"Alas, I cannot make him good," said the fairy; "he must do that for
himself. I can give him good advice, reprove him when he does wrong, and
punish him if he will not punish himself; I can and will be his best
friend, but I cannot make him good unless he wills it."
The king was sad to hear this, but he rejoiced in the friendship of the
fairy for his son. And when he died, soon after, he was happy to know
that he left Prince Cherry in her hands.
Prince Cherry grieved for his father, and often lay awake at night,
thinking of him. One night, when he was all alone in his room, a soft
and lovely light suddenly shone before him, and a beautiful vision stood
at his side. It was the good fairy. She was clad in robes of dazzling
white, and on her shining hair she wore a wreath of white roses.
"I am the Fairy Candide," she said to the prince. "I promised your
father that I would be your best friend, and as long as you live I shall
watch over your happiness. I have brought you a gift; it is not
wonderful to look at, but it has a wonderful power for your welfare;
wear it, and let it help you."
As she spoke, she placed a small gold ring on the prince's little
finger. "This ring," she said, "will help you to be good; when you do
evil, it will prick you, to remind you. If you do not heed its warnings
a worse thing will happen to you, for I shall become your enemy." Then
she vanished.
Prince Cherry wore his ring, and said nothing to anyone of the fairy's
gift. It did not prick him for a long time, because he was good and
merry and happy. But Prince Cherry had been rather spoiled by his nurse
when he was a child; she had always said to him that when he should
become king he could do exactly as he pleased. Now, after a while, he
began to find out that this was not true, and it made him angry.
The first time that he noticed that even a king could not always have
his own way was on a day when he went hunting. It happened that he got
no game. This put him in such a bad temper that he grumbled and scolded
all the way home. The little gold ring began to feel tight and
uncomfortable. When he reached the palace his pet dog ran to meet him.
"Go away!" said the prince, crossly.
But the little dog was so used to being petted that he only jumped up on
his master, and tried to kiss his hand. The prince turned and kicked the
little creature. At the instant, he felt a sharp prick in his little
finger, like a pin prick.
"What nonsense!" said the prince to himself. "Am I not king of the whole
land? May I not kick my own dog, if I choose? What evil is there in
that?"
A silver voice spoke in his ear: "The king of the land has a right to do
good, but not evil; you have been guilty of bad temper and of cruelty
to-day; see that you do better to-morrow."
The prince turned sharply, but no one was to be seen; yet he recognised
the voice as that of Fairy Candide.
He followed her advice for a little, but presently he forgot, and the
ring pricked him so sharply that his finger had a drop of blood on it.
This happened again and again, for the prince grew more self-willed and
headstrong every day; he had some bad friends, too, who urged him on, in
the hope that he would ruin himself and give them a chance to seize the
throne. He treated his people carelessly and his servants cruelly, and
everything he wanted he felt that he must have.
The ring annoyed him terribly; it was embarrassing for a king to have a
drop of blood on his finger all the time! At last he took the ring off
and put it out of sight. Then he thought he should be perfectly happy,
having his own way; but instead, he grew more unhappy as he grew less
good. Whenever he was crossed, or could not have his own way instantly,
he flew into a passion.
Finally, he wanted something that he really could not have. This time it
was a most beautiful young girl, named Zelia; the prince saw her, and
loved her so much that he wanted at once to make her his queen. To his
great astonishment, she refused.
"Am I not pleasing to you?" asked the prince in surprise.
"You are very handsome, very charming, prince," said Zelia; "but you are
not like the good king, your father; I fear you would make me very
miserable if I were your queen."
In a great rage, Prince Cherry ordered the young girl to be put in
prison; and the key of her dungeon he kept. He told one of his friends,
a wicked man who flattered him for his own purposes, about the thing,
and asked his advice.
"Are you not king?" said the bad friend. "May you not do as you will?
Keep the girl in a dungeon till she does as you command, and if she will
not, sell her as a slave."
"But would it not be a disgrace for me to harm an innocent creature?"
said the prince.
"It would be a disgrace to you to have it said that one of your subjects
dared disobey you!" said the courtier.
He had cleverly touched the prince's worst trait, his pride. Prince
Cherry went at once to Zelia's dungeon, prepared to do this cruel thing.
Zelia was gone. No one had the key save the prince himself; yet she was
gone. The only person who could have dared to help her, thought the
prince, was his old tutor, Suliman, the only man left who ever rebuked
him for anything. In fury, he ordered Suliman to be put in fetters and
brought before him.
As his servants left him, to carry out the wicked order, there was a
clash, as of thunder, in the room, and then a blinding light. Fairy
Candide stood before him. Her beautiful face was stern, and her silver
voice rang like a trumpet, as she said, "Wicked and selfish prince, you
have become baser than the beasts you hunt; you are furious as a lion,
revengeful as a serpent, greedy as a wolf, and brutal as a bull; take,
therefore, the shape of those beasts whom you resemble!"
With horror, the prince felt himself being transformed into a monster.
He tried to rush upon the fairy and kill her, but she had vanished with
her words. As he stood, her voice came from the air, saying, sadly,
"Learn to conquer your pride by being in submission to your own
subjects." At the same moment, Prince Cherry felt himself being
transported to a distant forest, where he was set down by a clear
stream. In the water he saw his own terrible image; he had the head of a
lion, with bull's horns, the feet of a wolf, and a tail like a serpent.
And as he gazed in horror, the fairy's voice whispered, "Your soul has
become more ugly than your shape is; you yourself have deformed it."
The poor beast rushed away from the sound of her words, but in a moment
he stumbled into a trap, set by bear-catchers. When the trappers found
him they were delighted to have caught a curiosity, and they immediately
dragged him to the palace courtyard. There he heard the whole court
buzzing with gossip. Prince Cherry had been struck by lightning and
killed, was the news, and the five favourite courtiers had struggled to
make themselves rulers, but the people had refused them, and offered the
crown to Suliman, the good old tutor.
Even as he heard this, the prince saw Suliman on the steps of the
palace, speaking to the people. "I will take the crown to keep in
trust," he said. "Perhaps the prince is not dead."
"He was a bad king; we do not want him back," said the people.
"I know his heart," said Suliman, "it is not all bad; it is tainted, but
not corrupt; perhaps he will repent and come back to us a good king."
When the beast heard this, it touched him so much that he stopped
tearing at his chains, and became gentle. He let his keepers lead him
away to the royal menagerie without hurting them.
Life was very terrible to the prince, now, but he began to see that he
had brought all his sorrow on himself, and he tried to bear it
patiently. The worst to bear was the cruelty of the keeper. At last, one
night, this keeper was in great danger; a tiger got loose, and attacked
him. "Good enough! Let him die!" thought Prince Cherry. But when he saw
how helpless the keeper was, he repented, and sprang to help. He killed
the tiger and saved the keeper's life.
As he crouched at the keeper's feet, a voice said, "Good actions never
go unrewarded!" And the terrible monster was changed into a pretty
little white dog.
The keeper carried the beautiful little dog to the court and told the
story, and from then on, Cherry was carefully treated, and had the best
of everything. But in order to keep the little dog from growing, the
queen ordered that he should be fed very little, and that was pretty
hard for the poor prince. He was often half starved, although so much
petted.
One day he had carried his crust of bread to a retired spot in the
palace woods, where he loved to be, when he saw a poor old woman hunting
for roots, and seeming almost starved.
"Poor thing," he thought, "she is even more hungry than I"; and he ran
up and dropped the crust at her feet.
The woman ate it, and seemed greatly refreshed.
Cherry was glad of that, and he was running happily back to his kennel
when he heard cries of distress, and suddenly he saw some rough men
dragging along a young girl, who was weeping and crying for help. What
was his horror to see that the young girl was Zelia! Oh, how he wished
he were the monster once more, so that he could kill the men and rescue
her! But he could do nothing except bark, and bite at the heels of the
wicked men. That did not stop them; they drove him off, with blows, and
carried Zelia into a palace in the wood.
Poor Cherry crouched by the steps, and watched. His heart was full of
pity and rage. But suddenly he thought, "I was as bad as these men; I
myself put Zelia in prison, and would have treated her worse still, if I
had not been prevented." The thought made him so sorry and ashamed that
he repented bitterly the evil he had done.
Presently a window opened, and Cherry saw Zelia lean out and throw down
a piece of meat. He seized it and was just going to devour it, when the
old woman to whom he had given his crust snatched it away and took him
in her arms. "No, you shall not eat it, you poor little thing," she
said, "for every bit of food in that house is poisoned."
At the same moment, a voice said, "Good actions never go unrewarded!"
And instantly Prince Cherry was transformed into a little white dove.