LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY
[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--alittle bit of a kingdom, a sort of dainty little toy kingdom, as onemight say. It was far removed from the jealousies, strifes, and turmoilsof that old warlike day, and so its life was a simple life, its peoplea gentle and guileless race; it lay always in a deep dream of peace, asoft Sabbath tranquillity; there was no malice, there was no envy, therewas no ambition, consequently there were no heart-burnings, there was nounhappiness in the land.
In the course of time the old king died and his little son Hubert cameto the throne. The people's love for him grew daily; he was so good andso pure and so noble, that by and by his love became a passion, almosta worship. Now at his birth the soothsayers had diligently studied thestars 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 bythe soothsayers, the statesmen, the little parliament, and the generalpeople. That one thing was this: How is the last sentence of theprophecy to be understood? What goes before seems to mean that thesaving animal will choose itself at the proper time; but the closingsentence seems to mean that the king must choose beforehand, and saywhat singer among the animals pleases him best, and that if he choosewisely 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 matteras there had been in the beginning; but a majority of the wise and thesimple were agreed that the safest plan would be for the little king tomake choice beforehand, and the earlier the better. So an edict was sentforth commanding all persons who owned singing creatures to bring themto the great hall of the palace in the morning of the first day of thenew year. This command was obeyed. When everything was in readiness forthe trial, the king made his solemn entry with the great officers of thecrown, all clothed in their robes of state. The king mounted his goldenthrone and prepared to give judgment. But he presently said:--
"These creatures all sing at once; the noise is unendurable; no one canchoose in such a turmoil. Take them all away, and bring back one at atime."
This was done. One sweet warbler after another charmed the young king'sear and was removed to make way for another candidate. The preciousminutes slipped by; among so many bewitching songsters he found it hardto choose, and all the harder because the promised penalty for an errorwas so terrible that it unsettled his judgment and made him afraid totrust his own ears. He grew nervous and his face showed distress. Hisministers 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 hisdynasty and his people are doomed!"
At the end of an hour the king sat silent awhile, and then said:--
"Bring back the linnet."
The linnet trilled forth her jubilant music. In the midst of it the kingwas about to uplift his scepter in sign of choice, but checked himselfand said:--
"But let us be sure. Bring back the thrush; let them sing together."
The thrush was brought, and the two birds poured out their marvels ofsong together. The king wavered, then his inclination began to settleand strengthen--one could see it in his countenance. Hope budded in thehearts of the old ministers, their pulses began to beat quicker, thescepter began to rise slowly, when: There was a hideous interruption! Itwas a sound like this--just at the door:
"Waw... he! waw... he! waw-he!-waw he!-waw-he!"
Everybody was sorely startled--and enraged at himself for showing it.
The next instant the dearest, sweetest, prettiest little peasant-maidof nine years came tripping in, her brown eyes glowing with childisheagerness; but when she saw that august company and those angry facesshe stopped and hung her head and put her poor coarse apron to hereyes. Nobody gave her welcome, none pitied her. Presently she looked uptimidly through her tears, and said:--
"My lord the king, I pray you pardon me, for I meant no wrong. I have nofather and no mother, but I have a goat and a donkey, and they are allin all to me. My goat gives me the sweetest milk, and when my dear gooddonkey brays it seems to me there is no music like to it. So when mylord the king's jester said the sweetest singer among all the animalsshould save the crown and nation, and moved me to bring him here--"
All the court burst into a rude laugh, and the child fled away crying,without trying to finish her speech. The chief minister gave a privateorder that she and her disastrous donkey be flogged beyond the precinctsof the palace and commanded to come within them no more.
Then the trial of the birds was resumed. The two birds sang their best,but the scepter lay motionless in the king's hand. Hope died slowly outin the breasts of all. An hour went by; two hours, still no decision.The day waned to its close, and the waiting multitudes outside thepalace grew crazed with anxiety and apprehension. The twilight cameon, the shadows fell deeper and deeper. The king and his court could nolonger see each other's faces. No one spoke--none called for lights. Thegreat trial had been made; it had failed; each and all wished to hidetheir faces from the light and cover up their deep trouble in their ownhearts.
Finally-hark! A rich, full strain of the divinest melody streamed forthfrom a remote part of the hall--the nightingale's voice!
"Up!" shouted the king, "let all the bells make proclamation to thepeople, for the choice is made and we have not erred. King, dynasty,and nation are saved. From henceforth let the nightingale be honoredthroughout the land forever. And publish it among all the people thatwhosoever shall insult a nightingale, or injure it, shall suffer death.The king hath spoken."
All that little world was drunk with joy. The castle and the city blazedwith bonfires all night long, the people danced and drank and sang; andthe triumphant clamor of the bells never ceased.
From that day the nightingale was a sacred bird. Its song was heard inevery house; the poets wrote its praises; the painters painted it; itssculptured image adorned every arch and turret and fountain and publicbuilding. It was even taken into the king's councils; and no gravematter of state was decided until the soothsayers had laid the thingbefore the state nightingale and translated to the ministry what it wasthat the bird had sung about it.
II
The young king was very fond of the chase. When the summer was come herode forth with hawk and hound, one day, in a brilliant company of hisnobles. He got separated from them by and by, in a great forest, andtook what he imagined a near cut, to find them again; but it was amistake. He rode on and on, hopefully at first, but with sinking couragefinally. Twilight came on, and still he was plunging through a lonelyand unknown land. Then came a catastrophe. In the dim light he forcedhis horse through a tangled thicket overhanging a steep and rockydeclivity. When horse and rider reached the bottom, the former had abroken neck and the latter a broken leg. The poor little king lay theresuffering agonies of pain, and each hour seemed a long month to him.He kept his ear strained to hear any sound that might promise hope ofrescue; but he heard no voice, no sound of horn or bay of hound. So atlast he gave up all hope, and said, "Let death come, for come it must."
Just then the deep, sweet song of a nightingale swept across the stillwastes of the night.
"Saved!" the king said. "Saved! It is the sacred bird, and the prophecyis come true. The gods themselves protected me from error in thechoice."
He could hardly contain his joy; he could not word his gratitude. Everyfew moments n
ow he thought he caught the sound of approaching succor.But each time it was a disappointment; no succor came. The dull hoursdrifted on. Still no help came--but still the sacred bird sang on. Hebegan to have misgivings about his choice, but he stifled them. Towarddawn the bird ceased. The morning came, and with it thirst and hunger;but no succor. The day waxed and waned. At last the king cursed thenightingale.
Immediately the song of the thrush came from out the wood. The king saidin his heart, "This was the true-bird--my choice was false--succor willcome now."
But it did not come. Then he lay many hours insensible. When he came tohimself, a linnet was singing. He listened with apathy. His faith wasgone. "These birds," he said, "can bring no help; I and my house and mypeople are doomed." He turned him about to die; for he was grown veryfeeble from hunger and thirst and suffering, and felt that his end wasnear. In truth, he wanted to die, and be released from pain. For longhours he lay without thought or feeling or motion. Then his sensesreturned. The dawn of the third morning was breaking. Ah, the worldseemed very beautiful to those worn eyes. Suddenly a great longing tolive rose up in the lad's heart, and from his soul welled a deep andfervent prayer that Heaven would have mercy upon him and let him seehis home and his friends once more. In that instant a soft, a faint, afar-off sound, but oh, how inexpressibly sweet to his waiting ear, camefloating out of the distance:
"Waw... he! waw... he! Waw-he!--waw-he!--waw-he!"
"That, oh, that song is sweeter, a thousand times sweeter than the voiceof the nightingale, thrush, or linnet, for it brings not mere hope, butcertainty of succor; and now, indeed, am I saved! The sacred singer haschosen itself, as the oracle intended; the prophecy is fulfilled, and mylife, my house, and my people are redeemed. The ass shall be sacred fromthis day!"
The divine music grew nearer and nearer, stronger--and stronger and eversweeter and sweeter to the perishing sufferer's ear. Down the declivitythe docile little donkey wandered, cropping herbage and singing as hewent; and when at last he saw the dead horse and the wounded king, hecame and snuffed at them with simple and marveling curiosity. The kingpetted him, and he knelt down as had been his wont when his littlemistress desired to mount. With great labor and pain the lad drewhimself upon the creature's back, and held himself there by aid of thegenerous ears. The ass went singing forth from the place and carriedthe king to the little peasant-maid's hut. She gave him her pallet fora bed, refreshed him with goat's milk, and then flew to tell the greatnews to the first scouting-party of searchers she might meet.
The king got well. His first act was to proclaim the sacredness andinviolability of the ass; his second was to add this particular ass tohis cabinet and make him chief minister of the crown; his third was tohave all the statues and effigies of nightingales throughout his kingdomdestroyed, and replaced by statues and effigies of the sacred donkey;and, his fourth was to announce that when the little peasant maid shouldreach her fifteenth year he would make her his queen and he kept hisword.
Such is the legend. This explains why the moldering image of the assadorns all these old crumbling walls and arches; and it explains why,during many centuries, an ass was always the chief minister in thatroyal cabinet, just as is still the case in most cabinets to this day;and it also explains why, in that little kingdom, during many centuries,all great poems, all great speeches, all great books, all publicsolemnities, and all royal proclamations, always began with thesestirring words:
"Waw... he! waw... he!--waw he! Waw-he!"