[Left out of “A Tramp Abroad” because its authenticity seemed
doubtful, and could not at that time be proved.--M. T.]
More than a thousand years ago this small district was a kingdom--a
little bit of a kingdom, a sort of dainty little toy kingdom, as one
might say. It was far removed from the jealousies, strifes, and turmoils
of that old warlike day, and so its life was a simple life, its people
a gentle and guileless race; it lay always in a deep dream of peace, a
soft Sabbath tranquillity; there was no malice, there was no envy, there
was no ambition, consequently there were no heart-burnings, there was no
unhappiness in the land.
In the course of time the old king died and his little son Hubert came
to the throne. The people's love for him grew daily; he was so good and
so pure and so noble, that by and by his love became a passion, almost
a worship. Now at his birth the soothsayers had diligently studied the
stars and found something written in that shining book to this effect:
In Hubert's fourteenth year a pregnant event will happen; the animal
whose singing shall sound sweetest in Hubert's ear shall save
Hubert's life. So long as the king and the nation shall honor this
animal's race for this good deed, the ancient dynasty shall not fail
of an heir, nor the nation know war or pestilence or poverty. But
beware an erring choice!
All through the king's thirteenth year but one thing was talked of by
the soothsayers, the statesmen, the little parliament, and the general
people. That one thing was this: How is the last sentence of the
prophecy to be understood? What goes before seems to mean that the
saving animal will choose itself at the proper time; but the closing
sentence seems to mean that the king must choose beforehand, and say
what singer among the animals pleases him best, and that if he choose
wisely the chosen animal will save his life, his dynasty, his people,
but that if he should make “an erring choice”--beware!
By the end of the year there were as many opinions about this matter
as there had been in the beginning; but a majority of the wise and the
simple were agreed that the safest plan would be for the little king to
make choice beforehand, and the earlier the better. So an edict was sent
forth commanding all persons who owned singing creatures to bring them
to the great hall of the palace in the morning of the first day of the
new year. This command was obeyed. When everything was in readiness for
the trial, the king made his solemn entry with the great officers of the
crown, all clothed in their robes of state. The king mounted his golden
throne and prepared to give judgment. But he presently said:--
“These creatures all sing at once; the noise is unendurable; no one can
choose in such a turmoil. Take them all away, and bring back one at a
time.”
This was done. One sweet warbler after another charmed the young king's
ear and was removed to make way for another candidate. The precious
minutes slipped by; among so many bewitching songsters he found it hard
to choose, and all the harder because the promised penalty for an error
was so terrible that it unsettled his judgment and made him afraid to
trust his own ears. He grew nervous and his face showed distress. His
ministers saw this, for they never took their eyes from him a moment.
Now they began to say in their hearts:
“He has lost courage--the cool head is gone--he will err--he and his
dynasty and his people are doomed!”