T
THERE is an old legend of a proud king, named Robert of Sicily. This legend tells of the greatest event of Robert’s life; and the poet, Longfellow, has written a beautiful poem about it, which every one should read. This is the story:
Robert, King of Sicily, was a very proud monarch and a very selfish one. He spent most of his time enjoying himself, and gave little heed to the wants of his people.
On St. John’s eve he attended vesper service with a great retinue of knights and lords and pages. He was dressed most magnificently, and proudly sat while the choir chanted some strange Latin words.
The king did not understand Latin, and turning to a learned clerk nearby, he said, “What do those words mean?”
The clerk answered, “They mean,
‘He has put down the mighty from their seat,And has exalted them of low degree!’”
‘He has put down the mighty from their seat,And has exalted them of low degree!’”
‘He has put down the mighty from their seat,And has exalted them of low degree!’”
‘He has put down the mighty from their seat,
And has exalted them of low degree!’”
The king laughed scornfully, and said, “It is well that such words are sung in Latin, for there is no power on earth that can push me from my throne.”
Then he leaned back yawning, and fell asleep.
When he awoke it was already night; the church was empty and all in darkness.
The king was angry at finding himself alone. He groped his way toward the great doors, but found them locked.
Then he thought of the windows, but they were high abovehis reach. Then he became frightened and cried aloud. He listened, but all that he heard was the resounding echoes of his cries, as they rang, again and again, through the high, vaulted ceiling of the church.
He knocked with his fists against the doors, and swore awful oaths against every one in his court. He became so angry that he tore his magnificent robes into shreds. He had long since lost his hat and cloak.
At length the sexton of the church heard the noise, and he thought that perhaps thieves were breaking into the church, so he lit his lantern and went to the door. When he could make himself heard, he asked, “Who is there?”
The king, half choked with rage, answered fiercely, “Open, ’tis I, the king. Are you afraid?”
The frightened sexton muttered to himself: “It is some drunken beggar, or some one crazy;” and, turning the great key, he flung open the doors.
A man in torn garments, without hat or cloak, rushed past him. He neither looked at him nor spoke, but, leaping into the darkness, vanished almost like a spectre from his sight.
Bareheaded, breathless, covered with dust and cobwebs, Robert strode on through the darkness, and came to the palace gates. He rushed through the courtyard, thrusting aside the guards and pages, and hurried up the broad stairs. From hall to hall he passed in breathless speed, although he heard voices and cries to stop him, until he came to the banquet room, which was blazing with light.
There he stood motionless, speechless, amazed; for on the throne there sat another king, wearing his crown, his robes, and even his signet ring. He looked at first glance exactly like King Robert. He was of the same height and the same form and features; but there was a gracious beauty about him which Robert lacked.
King Robert stood there, gazing at him in anger and ragewhen he looked up. With a glance of surprise and pity, he asked, “Who are you?”
Robert answered, “I am the king, and I have come to take my place; you are an imposter who pretends to be king.”
At these words the angry guests sprang up with drawn swords, but the man on the throne said, “No, not the king, but the king’s jester. You shall from now on wear the bells and scalloped cape of the court jester, and make fun for us all. Your companion shall be an ape.” Then he turned away toward his guests.
Some of the servants came forward to take Robert away, and they were quite deaf to his ravings and angry threats. With shouts of laughter they pushed him on before them down the stairs, and mockingly bowed before him, and pretended to honor him, all the while laughing and tittering and making fun of him. They left him in a room in the stable where at length, exhausted, he fell asleep.
The next morning, waking with the day’s first light, he thought to himself: “I’ve had an ugly dream.” But the straw rustled when he turned his head, and there were the jester’s cap and bells lying near. He heard the horses champing in their stalls, and on looking around the room saw the poor ape. So he remembered. It was no dream. His happy life that he thought could not be changed, had vanished from him.
The days came and went. Under the rule of the new king the island prospered as never before. Robert continued to be the jester, laughed at and scorned. His only friend was the ape. His only food, what others left.
Sometimes the other king would meet him, and ask, “Are you still the king?” and always Robert would throw back his head and fling the answer haughtily, “I am, I am the king!”
Toward the Very Last, Robert, the Jester, Rode on a Piebald Pony
Toward the Very Last, Robert, the Jester, Rode on a Piebald Pony
Robert had two brothers; one was Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine, the other was Pope Urbane. One day, almost three years after the wild night that Robert had been locked in the church, ambassadors came from Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine, bringing letters. The letters asked King Robert to join his brother Valmond in a visit to their brother at Rome. The ambassadors were received with great pleasure, and were presented with many beautiful gifts of robes and jewels.
Then the king who was not King Robert went with them across the sea to Italy. He was accompanied by a great retinue of knights, all dressed in uniform, wearing gay plumes in their helmets. They rode horses with jeweled bridles, and even wore golden spurs. They were followed by pages and servants; and, toward the very last, Robert, the jester, rode on a piebald pony, and behind was perched the ape. Through every town they went they made much fun for the people, who followed along after, laughing and poking fun at them. The company were received with great pomp and ceremony, and the three brothers seemed delighted at being together again.
Suddenly Robert burst through the crowd, and running up to them cried, “I am the king! Do you not know me? Look at me. I am your brother, Robert of Sicily. This man is but an imposter! He is not the king!”
The emperor and the pope looked at the angry worried jester for a long moment; then the emperor laughed, and said, “What strange sport to keep a crazy fellow for a jester!” and the poor baffled jester was hustled back into the crowd.
Then came Easter Sunday, and the beauty and the solemnity of the Easter services touched the hearts of all men. Robert was deeply moved. For the first time in his life he saw what kind of man he had been. He saw how selfish and proud and haughty he had been. He wished with all his soul that he had been a better man, and he made up his mind that, no matter what happened, he would never be so selfish and mean again.
Now, the visit ended; the grand visitors left Rome and journeyed homeward. And when they were once more established, the king on the throne sent for Robert. He motioned every one else out of the room and beckoned Robert to draw near.
And when they were alone, he asked, “Art thou the king?”
Robert bowed his head, and folding his arms, said, “You know best. I only know that I have sinned, and have been proud and selfish. Let me go from here and try to make up in some way for the wrong which I have done!”
And just as he finished saying this, there rose through the windows loud and clear the words of the chant:
“He has put down the mighty from their seat,And has exalted them of low degree!”
“He has put down the mighty from their seat,And has exalted them of low degree!”
“He has put down the mighty from their seat,And has exalted them of low degree!”
“He has put down the mighty from their seat,
And has exalted them of low degree!”
Then the man who was with Robert cried joyously. “I am not the king! I am an angel! You are the king!”
When King Robert raised his eyes—lo! he was alone, but all dressed in his magnificent apparel as of old; and when his courtiers came, they found him kneeling upon the floor in silent prayer.
* * * * * *
“Robert was fortunate,” said the Story King, “in learning his lesson before it was too late.”
“Yes, indeed, he was,” answered the Story Lady. “The fourth story is of a young man who repented when it was too late.”