Once upon a time there lived in the Levant, in a castle surrounded by
palm groves, a wealthy nobleman. He was very fond of hunting, and often
went out to chase gazelles and boars. But in the wooded mountains which
surrounded his estate there were often also tracks of great beasts of
prey: bears, panthers, and even lions, and then he could not rest until
he had driven away or killed them, and thus rid the country of them.
One day lions had again appeared in the neighborhood and destroyed the
farmers’ cows and sheep. They came running to the castle with cries of
grief, begging for help. The nobleman at once organized a hunt. He soon
discovered numerous tracks, which showed that there was a family,
perhaps a whole troop of lions. After a sharp pursuit, they succeeded
in surrounding the robbers in a valley. There were a terribly large and
fierce lion, his lioness, three cubs, and another full-grown lion,
perhaps a brother or a friend of the family. When the huge lion saw
himself driven into a corner, he said to his wife: “Save yourself and
the little ones. I will face the men until you are safe. Then I will
follow. If I should fall, remember me, and bring up the cubs to be
capable lions.”
“I will stay with you,” cried the other lion, standing, eager for
battle, at his side.
“No,” commanded the father of the family. “Cover the retreat of my wife
and children. I will fight my battle with the men alone.”
Springing from the bushes with a terrible roar, he dashed at the
hunters, thus attracting to himself all the arrows and spears, and the
whole pack of dogs also rushed upon him. His companion took advantage
of this to lead the lioness and her three cubs out of the valley in the
opposite direction. The few beaters who were stationed there moved
aside in terror, and when the flying lions had the beaters behind them,
they hurried with long leaps up the mountain, on whose other side they
would be safe.
The lion which had made the stand had struck down with heavy blows of
his mighty paws the first dogs which ventured to rush upon him; but,
pierced by numerous wounds, soon fell himself. He yielded up his life
with one last roar, which thundered through the valley like a farewell
to his fleeing family. Not until he lay dead in his blood on the ground
did the hunters look after the other lions, and discovered them on the
top of the mountain which they had already reached. Instantly a new and
eager chase began, with shouts, winding of horns, and barking of dogs.
The lioness and her companions had a considerable start, and could
easily have escaped their enemies, but the three cubs could not keep up
with them, and fell behind. The hunters and the pack came nearer and
nearer, arrows were already whizzing around them, the little ones
uttered a whine of fear, and their mother stopped.
“Forward! forward!” roared her companion, sternly.
“I will not leave my children to fall into the hands of human beings,”
replied the lioness. Then she quickly but tenderly licked their eyes
and noses, saying, “We must carry them, they cannot keep up.”
She seized two in her mouth by the skin at the back of the neck, the
devoted friend took the third in the same way, and they continued their
flight. The lioness, whose strength was doubled by her maternal love,
dashed forward with tremendous bounds. But the male lion was not used
to carrying a cub in his mouth, the burden delayed him, and he could
not follow the lioness. The hunters were close at his heels, he lost
his presence of mind and dropped the cub intrusted to his care, that he
might fly faster. This cowardly forgetfulness of duty did not save him.
He was struck by several spears, and fell dying. The cub, which was
vainly trying with its little soft paws to run after its mother, who
was already far away, was instantly surrounded by the pack, which would
have made short work of it if their master had not jumped into the
middle of the barking, howling, snapping circle and driven the dogs
back. Seizing the spitting, scratching little lion, he put it in a bag,
and gave the signal with the horn that the hunt was over; for he saw
that the lioness had escaped, and he was very well satisfied with
having killed two grown lions and captured a lion cub alive. When the
lioness saw that the hunters were no longer following her, she lay down
with her two rescued little ones to rest and wait for her companion
with the third. As he did not come, she bravely set out, after several
hours, to look for him, but found only his skinned carcass and no trace
of the third little one. She burst into a piercing wail of grief and
dragged herself slowly back to the two cubs she had left. This day’s
hunt had robbed her of a husband and a child, without counting the
friend. Her lamentations for the dead filled all the animals in the
desert with terror all night long.
Meanwhile the little lion had been taken to the castle, where all the
members of the household gathered around him to admire him. He was the
dearest little creature, no larger than a big cat, with fine yellow
fur, and a heavy tassel at the end of his tail. At first he behaved
badly, biting and scratching everybody who wanted to pat him. But
gradually he grew quiet and became trusting and tame. At his age people
forget quickly and easily accommodate themselves to changes. His mother
and brothers, and the free life in the forests and desert, soon
vanished from his memory; he knew only the human beings who fed him
liberally and treated him kindly; he willingly allowed himself to be
petted, thanking them for it by loud purring and licking with his
little rough tongue, and became a favorite with everybody. He slept in
his master’s room on soft rugs, played and tussled with the children of
the family in the castle courtyard, and ran after the nobleman in his
walks like a dog. He had been given the name of Samson, and came
obediently when he was called. He considered himself a member of the
family and clung to the persons whom he regarded as his relatives with
all the warmth of his lion heart.
He was by no means popular with the other domestic animals. The horses
snorted and kicked if he put his head into their stable or came near
them in the meadow behind the castle, the dogs growled and showed their
teeth, the fowls scattered before him, flapping their wings and
squawking. He was friendly to them all, but they all repulsed him
unkindly. Only the cat was gracious from the beginning and persistently
sought his society. She treated him respectfully and addressed him in
the tone of an inferior. When he grew larger and became a sensible
young lion, she made remarks upon his manner to the other animals. “You
ought not to be too familiar with the rabble of horses and dogs,” she
said.
“Why not?” asked the lion. “Don’t we all live under the same roof? Are
we not companions and friends?”
“No,” replied the cat, “you are a prince, and the others are a race of
slaves. You are a lion, and the others are mares and curs. You treat
them as your equals, and their gratitude is to hate you. They would
gladly kill you.”
“I don’t believe it, cat,” cried the lion, indignantly.
“Yet it is so,” the cat insisted. “To human beings, too, you ought to
be more mindful of your dignity as the son of a king. Do not give your
heart to them. They will reward your love with ingratitude.”
“Now listen,” growled the lion. “I will not allow you to speak ill of
my master and his family. I belong to them and they belong to me; we
are one flesh and blood; I have my recognized place in the household,
and nothing can separate us.”
The cat bowed humbly and stole sadly away, for the lion turned his back
upon her.
Samson grew up to the full size and strength of his species. Yet his
disposition did not change; he remained affectionate to the lord of the
castle and his wife and children, his playmates, and friendly to all
the domestic animals. But gradually they began to treat him
differently. The mistress complained that he smelt badly and would not
allow him to remain in her room. In order not to hurt his feelings, he
was told that he had now grown up, and it was not proper for him to
have his bed at night in his mistress’s room. He was given a sleeping
place in the kennels; but the dogs declared that he was a stranger and
an intruder; they refused to let him stay among them, and to prevent a
riot in the pack, they were obliged to assign a special barn to the
lion. The nobleman’s children no longer wanted to play with him; for
although he submitted to everything from them and lovingly stroked and
licked them when they cuffed and pulled him, they were secretly afraid
of him. If he asked them to romp with him, according to their custom,
in the castle courtyard, they sent him word by a servant that they had
no time, they were busy with their teachers. It became uncomfortable
for the neighboring landowners to meet him roaming freely about, when
they came to the castle, and they accused the owner of carelessness.
“Such beasts can never be trusted,” they said; “sooner or later their
nature will break out.” They repeated this so often that he at last
became uneasy and ordered Samson to be chained. When the servants
prepared to obey this direction, the lion uttered a roar, which made
them start back as fast as possible. They told their master that Samson
rebelled against being confined, and the nobleman went down into the
courtyard himself and said, “Be good, Samson, let us adorn you with
this little chain.”
“But why?” the lion complained. “What have I done to deserve
punishment?”
“It is no punishment,” replied the nobleman soothingly, caressingly
placing, as he spoke, the thick, heavy chain around his neck; “it is a
distinction. You shall ornament my courtyard by day, and be free at
night.”
Samson hung his head and submitted quietly to his master’s will. Now he
was a prisoner, scorned and mocked at by all the occupants of the
courtyard. The horse kicked out at him as it passed, the dogs barked at
him, and did all sorts of naughty things just beyond the reach of his
paws, and even the fowls scratched and cackled boldly close in front of
his terrible jaws. Samson would not notice it. He made himself believe
that all these things were unintentional. “Horses kick because it is
their nature,” he said to himself; “it is the nature of dogs to be
dirty, and the hens show their touching confidence in me by going on
with their affairs just under my nose.”
At night he was always released from his chain and walked around the
castle walls, as a tireless watcher, until the morning. Neither enemy
nor evil-doer dared to come near when he saw on the top of the wall, or
behind the battlements of the tower, in the moonlight, his huge figure
outlined against the dark sky, or on moonless nights heard the thunder
of his voice. On hunting days, too, the lord of the castle unfastened
Samson’s chain and took him with him. Then the lion conquered for him
boars, aurochs, and bears, dragged the prey in his mouth to the castle,
and did work which otherwise would have required twenty brave and
strong huntsmen. And when it was all over, he patiently let the chain
be put on again, licked the aching wounds which he had received in the
battle with the strongest and most dangerous animals in the wilderness,
and rejoiced that he had again been able to be useful to his master.
Then the house cat stole up to him and whispered in his ear: “Prince,
now you see how they treat you! You ought not to submit to this
unworthy fate any longer!”
“Unworthy fate? That, adorned with a magnificent chain, I am placed
beside the gate as the most beautiful ornament of the castle?”
“Ah, Prince, you do not believe that yourself. Use the liberty which is
given you; they want to profit by your strength in hunting! Stay in the
forest! Remember that your home is there, that there you are master!”
But the lion started up and answered fiercely: “Not another word, or
I’ll break your neck. My home is here in the castle. I am the kinsman
and companion of its owners, and will not listen to your senseless
tattle.”
Meanwhile his mother had never forgotten him. She mourned him for years
and always remained in the neighborhood, because she hoped some time to
learn what had happened to him after he had fallen into the hands of
human beings. When the rumor began to spread among the animals of the
woods and the wilderness that the lord of the castle was using a lion
to help him in hunting, a lion, which, contrary to all justice and
custom, attacked the sons of the desert and wrought more havoc among
them than twenty men, it finally reached her ears also, and she
rejoiced loudly, though the monkeys, peacocks, and gazelles brought the
story to her in perplexity and anger. Her mother heart instantly
suspected that the hunting lion of the castle lord was her own lost
son, and she bade one of the two sons who had remained with her to make
inquiries, and to try whether he could not approach his brother and
bring him back to his family.
The lion set out one dark night, trotted swiftly over the desert,
across the mountains, and through the forest to the palm grove, stole
cautiously through it to the wall around the castle, and was just
preparing, by the exertion of all his strength, to leap over it, when a
terrible voice from above thundered, “Who goes there?” At the same
instant he saw two large, fiery eyes glaring at him from the darkness.
The voice, which would have filled any other living creature with
fright, made his heart throb joyfully, for he recognized it as that of
one of his own kin. “A good friend!” he called back in a subdued tone;
“come down to me, if you are free, and, if not, I will come up to you
and set you at liberty.”
“Of course I am free,” replied the lion on the top of the wall,
proudly; “but who are you?”
“I am a lion like yourself; more, I am your brother, your own flesh and
blood. I have come to take you back to our mother, from whom men stole
you when you were very small, and who has never ceased to mourn for
you.”
“You lie!” the lion called back from the wall. “I am no lion, but an
inhabitant of the castle; my brothers are the sons of the lord and lady
of the castle. I have no others. Begone, or it will be the worse for
you!”
The blood of the lion at the foot of the wall began to boil with rage.
“Scoundrel!” he shouted angrily. “You have no lion soul. You have
become a cowardly slave of man. Once more: will you return to us, or
shall we finally thrust you out of our community?”
Samson uttered a roar, which echoed horribly from the distant
mountains, “Begone, if you value your life!” His thundering voice waked
all the inmates of the castle, the dogs began to bark furiously, people
began to move about in all the rooms, weapons clanked, doors banged;
the lion outside heard these threatening noises and thought it
advisable to retreat. He hastened back through the forests and across
the mountains to his mother in the desert, and reported the failure of
his mission.
The lioness listened to his story with deep feeling. “I know now that
my child is living. That is the main thing. We must not wonder that he
is estranged from us. The cunning of men has poisoned his young mind.
But it cannot be difficult to make the voice of blood speak. You did
not understand how to manage him. I will go and talk with him myself.
You shall see that I will bring you a brother who will be glad to have
found his relatives again.”
She scarcely waited for night to close in before she set out for the
castle. Her two sons and several neighbors and friends followed at a
short distance, to aid her in case of danger. The lion was keeping
watch that night even more carefully than usual, saw her coming a long
distance off, and shouted a fierce “Halt!” before she had reached the
foot of the castle wall.
The lioness’s strong heart trembled when she heard the challenge. She
recognized the father’s voice in the son’s. “Your mother has come to
take you home. My son, come down! Let me lick your dear face.”
“You are talking nonsense,” replied the lion, roughly. “I don’t know
you. I am Samson, the comrade of men, and have nothing in common with
such people as you. If you were not a woman, I would show you that I am
not to be insulted with impunity.”
“Is this the way you speak to your mother, who has mourned you for
years?”
“The devil is your son, not I,” Samson answered.
“Is it possible,” groaned the lioness, “you deny your own blood, you
forget your origin, you shame the memory of your glorious father, who
died for you? You cast off your mother, you serve the men who killed
your father, and are your worst enemies—”
Samson’s only answer was to roar: “Loose the dogs! Send out the
archers! The foe!”
The lioness saw that further efforts were useless, and she went back to
the wilderness in bitter grief.
The next morning, when the lord of the castle put on Samson’s chain, as
usual, he scolded him sharply.
“You must be crazy to make such a terrible racket as you have done for
the last two nights. You roused us all out of our sleep.”
“Forgive me, master,” replied Samson, humbly; “there were lions around
the castle with evil designs. I was obliged to do my duty as watchman.”
“Lions?” asked the nobleman, looking at Samson, suspiciously.
“Yes, my lord,” answered Samson; “and I advise you to arrange a great
hunt without delay to destroy the band of robbers.”
The lord of the castle went out of the gate, searched in the
neighborhood of the walls, and soon found numerous lion tracks on the
ground. He called the neighbors together, they appeared with their
packs of hounds in the castle courtyard, and set out with great tumult,
shouting, and barking of dogs for the hunt. Samson waited vainly to be
set free from his chain. When the lord of the castle passed him, he
cried: “And I? Am I not going with you?”
“We shall hunt lions to-day,” replied the lord of the castle.
“That is just why I want to go,” said Samson.
“But they are your relatives,” observed the nobleman, “and it might be
painful for you—”
Samson, deeply offended, interrupted: “My relatives? Have I deserved
this from you? Do I no longer belong to you? What have I in common with
the lion rabble? I beg you to let me share the hunt. You must not
refuse me.”
“As you choose,” muttered the castle lord, and reluctantly unfastened
the chain.
Samson was no sooner free than he sprang out of the gate with
tremendous bounds and rushed to the head of the hunters. Always far in
advance of all the others, he followed with impatient haste for hours
the tracks leading through the desert, until he had overtaken the
lions. When he saw the troop of fugitives, fresh ardor for battle
seemed to seize upon him, and he dashed forward with such fierce
eagerness that the dogs and the hunters could not keep up with him. He
reached the lions almost alone, and with open jaws and a tremendous
roar sprang with a mighty bound into the very midst of their group.
They instantly surrounded him, fiercely attacked him, struck him to the
earth with heavy blows from their paws, and tore his body with teeth
and claws, while his brothers shouted in fury, “Death to the traitor!”
But before they could wound him dangerously, his mother was at his side
roaring to his assailants, “Back! back!” Then she turned to Samson, who
lay bleeding on the ground with foaming jaws: “Go back to your men, if
you find your happiness with them. I lose you to-day for the second
time. Go! go!” Without a single glance behind she continued her flight,
the other lions followed her, and all soon disappeared beyond the
mountains.
Meanwhile the pack had reached Samson, who was left alone. In the heat
of the chase, they either did not recognize him or pretended not to do
so, and pressed upon him thirsting for blood. He was still dazed by the
recent battle, and the sudden attack of his hunting companions so
astonished him, that he made no movement to defend himself. In an
instant ten bloodhounds were hanging to each paw, six to his tail,
eight to his ears, mane, and lips. He could only utter one piteous call
for help, then he died under the bites of countless greedy teeth. His
mother heard his death-cry at a long distance and returned without
delay to help him. She came too late to save her son and could only
share his fate. When the lord of the castle reached the spot, both
lions were dead. He could do nothing but drive away the dogs, that they
might not tear them to pieces and spoil their skins.
The nobleman had these made into a cover for his bed and a rug, and
when afterward he had guests who were strangers, he proudly showed them
the magnificent skins, and told them all the details of the history of
the lions, one of which, amid great peril, he had captured partly with
his own hand and made his chained slave, and the other he had killed in
battle. Then the listeners admired his courage and praised him for his
brave deeds.