The princess and the tiger · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THE PRINCESS AND THE TIGER
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!”
“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.”
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.”
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.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.