There was once a King who said to his vazír, “Let us take a walk through
the town during the night.” In walking about they came to a house where
they heard people talking, and stopping before it they heard a girl say,
“If the King would marry me, I would make him a tart (or pie) so large
that it would serve for him and his army.” And another said, “If the
King would marry me, I would make him a tent that would shelter him and
his whole army.” Then a third said, “If the King would marry me, I would
present him with a daughter and a son, with golden hair, and hair of
hyacinth colour alternately; if they should weep, it would thunder, and
if they should laugh, the sun and moon would appear.” The King on
hearing these words went away, and on the following day he sent for the
three girls and made the contract of marriage with them. He passed the
first night with the one who had spoken first, and said to her, “Where
is the tart that would be sufficient for me and my army?” She answered
him, “The words of the night are greased with butter: when day appears
they melt away.” The next night he slept with the second, saying to her,
“Where is the tent which would be large enough for me and my army?” She
answered him, “It was an idea that came into my mind.” So the King
ordered them to go down into the kitchen among the slaves. He passed the
third night with the little one, saying, “Where are the boy and girl
whose hair is to be like gold and hyacinth?” She replied, “Tarry with me
nine months and nine minutes.” In due time she became pregnant, and on
the night of her confinement the midwife was sent for. Then the other
wife of the King went and met her in the street and said to her, “When
she has been delivered, how much will the King give you?” She answered,
“He will issue orders to give me fifteen mahbúbs.”[177] The other said,
“Behold, here are forty mahbúbs from me. Take these two little blind
puppies, and when she has given birth to a son and a daughter, take them
and place them in a box and put these two puppies in their stead, and
remove the children.” The midwife took the money and the little dogs and
went away. When the King’s new wife was safely delivered, the midwife
did according to her agreement with the other wife of the King, and then
went before him and said, “I fear to speak.” He answered, “Speak; I
grant you pardon.” Then said she, “Your wife has been delivered of two
dogs.” Then the King gave orders, saying, “Take and cover her with tar,
and bind her to the staircase, and let any one who may go up or down
spit upon her,” which was done accordingly. And the midwife carried away
the children and threw them into the river.
Now there was a fisherman who lived on an island with his wife, and they
had no children. On the morrow he went to the water-side to fish and
found a box driven on to the shore. He carried it home to his wife, and
placing it between them, he said, “Listen, my dear, I am going to make a
bargain with you: if this contains money, it will be for me; if it
contains children, they will be for you.” She replied, “Very well, I am
quite content.” They then opened the box and found in it a baby boy and
girl. The baby boy had his finger in the baby girl’s mouth and the
latter had her finger in his mouth, and they were sucking one another’s
fingers. The woman took them out of the box and prayed to Heaven, “Make
milk come into my breasts, for the sake of these little ones.” And by
the Almighty power the milk came into her breasts, and she continued to
bring them up until they had reached the age of twelve years.
One day the fisherman caught two large white fish, and the youth said to
him, “These two white fish are pretty, my father; I will take and sell
them, or carry them as a present to the King.” So the boy took them and
went away. He sat down with them in the Fish Market: people gathered
about him, and those who did not look at the fish looked at the boy. The
King also came past, and seeing the two white fish and the boy he called
to him, saying, “What is the price, my lad?” The boy answered, “They are
a present for you, my prince.” Thereupon the King took him to the palace
and said to him, “What is your name?” and he replied, “My name is
Muhammed, and my father is the fisherman who lives on the island.” Then
the King gave him thirty mahbúbs, saying, “Go away, discreet one, and
every day return here to my house.” So the lad returned home and gave
the money to his father. The next morning two more white fish were
caught and Muhammed carried them to the King, who took him into his
garden and made him sit down opposite him. The King remained there
drinking his wine and looking on the beauty of the youth: love for the
lad entered his heart and he remained with him two hours.[178] Then he
gave orders to provide the youth with a horse for his use in coming to
and returning from his house, and Muhammed mounted the horse and rode
home.
When he visited the King the following day he was again led into the
garden, and the other wife of the King, looking from her window saw the
lad and recognised him. She at once sent for the old midwife, and said
to her, “I bade you kill the children, yet they are still living upon
the earth.” Replied the old woman, “Have patience with me, O Queen, for
three days, and I will kill him.” Then she went away, and having
procured a pitcher, tied it to her girdle, bewitched it, mounted on it,
and struck it with a whip, and forthwith the pitcher flew away with her
and descended upon the island near the fisherman’s cottage.[179] She
found the young girl, Muhammed’s sister, sitting alone, and thus
addressed her: “My dear, why are you thus alone and sad? Tell your
brother to fetch you the rose of Arab Zandyk, that it may sing to you
and amuse you, instead of your being thus lonely and low-spirited.” When
her brother came home, he found her displeased and asked her, “Why are
you vexed, my sister?” She replied, “I should like the rose of Arab
Zandyk, that it may sing to me and amuse me.” “At your command,” said
he; “I am going to bring it to you.”
He mounted his horse and travelled into the midst of the desert, where
he perceived an ogress seated and pounding wheat with a millstone on her
arm. Alighting, he came up to her and saluted her saying, “Peace be with
you, mother ogress.” She replied, “If your safety did not prevail over
your words, I would eat the flesh from off your bones.” Then she asked,
“Where are you going, Muhammed the Discreet?” He answered, “I am in
quest of the singing rose of Arab Zandyk.” She showed him the way,
saying, “You will find before the palace a kid and a dog fastened, and
before the kid a piece of meat and before the dog a bunch of clover:
lift the meat and throw it to the dog, and give the clover to the
kid.[180] Then the door will open for you: enter and pluck the rose;
return immediately, without looking behind you, because, if you do so,
you will be bewitched and changed into stone, like the enchanted ones
who are there.” Muhammed the Discreet carefully followed the
instructions of the ogress: plucked the rose, went out by the door, put
back the meat before the kid and the clover before the dog, and carried
the rose home to his sister.
Then he again went to the house of the King, who saluted him and said,
“Where hast thou been, discreet one? Why hast thou absented thyself so
long from my house?” And he answered, “I was sick, O King.” Then the
King took him by the hand and entered the garden, and both sat down. The
wife of the King saw them seated together, and sending for the midwife
she angrily asked, “Why do you befool me, old woman?” She replied, “Have
patience with me for three days more, O Queen.” Then she mounted her
pitcher, and arriving at the house of the young girl, she said, “Has thy
brother fetched thee the rose?” “Yes,” answered the girl, “but it does
not sing.” Quoth the old woman, “It only sings with its looking-glass,”
and then went away. When the youth returned he found his sister vexed,
and he asked, “Why are you so sad, my sister?” She replied, “I should
like the looking-glass of the rose, by means of which it sings.” Quoth
he, “I obey your orders, and will bring it to you.”
Muhammed the Discreet rode on till he came to the ogress, who asked him
what he wanted. “I wish,” said he, “the looking-glass of the rose.”
“Well, go and do with the dog and kid as you did before. When you have
entered the garden you will find some stairs; go up them, and in the
first room you come to you will find the mirror suspended. Take it, and
set out directly, without looking behind you. If the earth shake with
you, keep a brave heart, otherwise you will have gone on a fruitless
errand.” He went and did according to the instructions of the ogress. In
taking away the mirror the earth shook under him, but he made his heart
as hard as an anvil and cared nothing for the shaking. But when he
brought the mirror to his sister and she had placed it before the rose
of Arab Zandyk, still the rose sang not.
When he visited the King, he excused his absence, saying, “I was on a
journey with my father, but here am I, returned once more.” The King led
him by the hand into the garden, and the wife of the King again
perceiving him she sent for the midwife and demanded of her, “Why do you
mock me again, old woman?” Quoth she, “Have patience with me for three
days, O Queen; this time will be the beginning and the end.” Then she
rode on her pitcher to the island, and asked the young girl, “Has thy
brother brought thee the mirror?” “Yes; but still the rose sings not.”
“Ah, it only sings with its mistress, who is called Arab Zandyk,” and so
saying she departed. Muhammed the Discreet on his return home again
found his sister disconsolate, and in answer to his inquiries she said,
“I desire Arab Zandyk, mistress of the rose and of the mirror, that I
may amuse myself with her when you are absent.”
He at once mounted his horse and rode on till he came to the house of
the ogress. “How fares it with you, mother ogress?” “What do you want
now, Muhammed the Discreet?” “I wish Arab Zandyk, mistress of the rose
and of the mirror.” Quoth the ogress, “Many kings and pashas have not
been able to bring her: she has changed them all into stone; and thou
art small and poor—what will become of thee?” “Only, my dear mother
ogress, show me the way, and I shall bring her, with the permission of
God.” Said the ogress: “Go to the west side of the palace; there you
will find an open window. Bring your horse under the window and then cry
in a loud voice, ‘Descend, Arab Zandyk!’” Muhammed the Wary went
accordingly, halted beneath the window, and cried out, “Descend, Arab
Zandyk!” She looked from her window scornfully and said, “Go away, young
man.” Muhammed the Discreet raised his eyes and found that half of his
horse was changed into stone. A second time cried he in a loud voice,
“Descend, Arab Zandyk!” She insulted him and said, “I tell you, go away,
young man.” He looked again and found his horse entirely enchanted and
half of himself as well. A third time he cried in a loud voice, “I tell
you, descend, Arab Zandyk!” She inclined herself half out of the window,
and her hair fell down to the ground. Muhammed the Discreet seized it,
twined it round his hand, pulled her out, and threw her on the earth.
Then said she, “Thou art my fate, Muhammed the Wary; relinquish thy hold
of my hair, by the life of thy father the King.” Quoth he, “My father is
a fisherman.” “Nay,” she replied, “thy father is the King; by-and-by I
will tell thee his history.” Quoth he, “I will leave hold of your hair
when you have set at liberty the enchanted men.” She made a sign with
her right arm and they were at once set free. They rushed headlong
towards Muhammed the Prudent to take her from him, but some of them
said, “Thanks to him who hath delivered us: do you still wish to take
her from him?” So they left him and went their several ways.
Arab Zandyk then took him by the hand and led him into her castle. She
gave her servants orders to build a palace in the midst of the isle of
the fisherman, which being accomplished, she took Muhammed the Discreet
and her soldiers and proceeded thither, and then said she to him, “Go to
the King, and when he asks where you have been, reply, ‘I have been
preparing my nuptials and invite you, with your army.’” He went to the
King and spoke as Arab Zandyk had instructed him, upon which the King
laughed and said to his vazír, “This young man is the son of a fisherman
and comes to invite me, with my army!” Quoth the vazír, “On account of
your love for him, command that the soldiers take with them food for
eight days, and we also will take our provender for eight days.” The
King having issued orders to that effect, and all being ready, they all
set out, and arriving at the house of the fisherman’s son, they found a
large number of beautiful tents erected for the soldiers’ accommodation
and the King was astonished. Then came the feasting—one dainty dish
being quickly followed by another still more delicious, and the soldiers
said among themselves, “We should like to remain here for two years to
eat meat and not be obliged to eat only beans and lentils.” They
continued there forty days until the nuptials were completed, well
content with their fare. Then the King departed with his army. The King
sent a return invitation, and Arab Zandyk commanded her soldiers to set
out in order to precede her to the capital. When the soldiers arrived
they filled the town so that there was scarcely sufficient house-room
for them. Then Arab Zandyk set out accompanied by Muhammed and his
sister. They entered the royal palace, and as they ascended the
staircase Arab Zandyk perceived the mother of Muhammed covered with tar
and in chains, so she threw over her a cashmere shawl and covered her.
The servants who were standing about said to Arab Zandyk, “Why do you
cover her with a shawl? Spit upon her when you go up and also when you
come down.” She asked, “Why so?” Said they, “Because she gave birth to
two dogs.” Then they went to the King and said, “A lady amongst the
strangers has thrown a cashmere shawl over her who is fastened to the
staircase, and has covered her without spitting upon her.” The King went
and met Arab Zandyk and asked, “Why have you covered her?” Said she,
“Give orders that she be conducted to the bath, cleansed, and dressed in
a royal robe, after which I will relate her history.” The King gave the
required orders, and when she was decked in a royal robe they conducted
her into the divan. Then said the King to Arab Zandyk, “Tell me now the
history.” Said she, “Listen, O King, the fisherman will speak,” and then
Arab Zandyk said to the fisherman, “Is it true that your wife gave birth
to Muhammed and his sister at one time or at separate times?” He
replied, “My wife has no children.” “Where, then, did you get them?”
Quoth he, “I went one morning to fish, and found them in a box on the
bank of the river. I took them home, and my wife brought them up.” Arab
Zandyk then said, “Hast thou heard, O King?” and turning to his wife,
“Are these thy children, O woman?” Said she, “Tell them to uncover their
heads that I may see them.” When they uncovered their heads, they were
seen to have alternately hair of gold and hair of hyacinth. The King
then asked her, “Are these thy children?” “Tell them to weep: if it
thunders and rains, they are my children, and if it does not thunder or
rain, they are not mine.” The children wept, and it thundered and
rained. Then he asked her again, “Are these thy children?” And she said,
“Tell them to laugh: if the sun and moon appear, they are my children.”
They told them to laugh, and the sun and moon appeared. Then he asked
her once more, “Are these thy children?” and she said, “They are my
children!” Then the King appointed the fisherman vazír of his right
hand, and commanded that the city be illuminated for forty whole days;
on the last day he caused his other wife and the old witch (the midwife)
to be led out and burnt, and their ashes to be dispersed to the winds.
The variations between this and Galland’s story are very considerable,
it must be allowed, and though the fundamental outline is the same in
both, they should be regarded as distinct versions of the same tale, and
both are represented by Asiatic and European stories. Here the fairy
Arab Zandyk plays the part of the Speaking-Bird, which, however, has its
equivalent in the preceding tale (No. x.) of Spitta Bey’s collection:
A man dies, leaving three sons and one daughter. The sons build a palace
for their sister and mother. The girl falls in love with some one who is
not considered as an eligible _parti_ by the brothers. By the advice of
an old woman, the girl asks her brothers to get her the singing
nightingale, in hope that the bird would throw sand on them and thus
send them down to the seventh earth. The eldest before setting out on
this quest leaves his chaplet with his younger brother, saying that if
it shrank it would be a token that he was dead. Journeying through the
desert some one tells him that many persons have been lost in their
quest of the singing nightingale: he must hide himself till he sees the
bird go into its cage and fall asleep, then shut the cage and carry it
off. But he does not wait long enough, and tries to shut the cage while
the bird’s feet are still outside, so the bird takes up sand with its
feet and throws it on him, and he descends to the seventh earth. The
second brother, finding the chaplet shrunk, goes off in his turn,
leaving his ring with the youngest brother—if it contract on the finger
it will betoken his death. He meets with the same fate as his elder
brother, and now the youngest, finding the ring contract, sets out,
leaving with his mother a rose, which will fade if he dies. He waits
till the singing nightingale is asleep, and then shuts him in the cage.
The bird in alarm implores to be set at liberty, but the youth demands
first the restoration of his brothers, and the bird tells him to scatter
on the ground some sand from beneath the cage, which he does, when only
a crowd of negroes and Turks (? Tátárs) appear, and confess their
failure to capture the singing nightingale. Then the bird bids him
scatter white sand, which being done, 500 whites and the two lost
brothers appear and the three return home with the bird, which sings so
charmingly in the palace that all the people come to listen to it
outside.—The rest of this story tells of the amours of the girl and a
black, who, at her instigation, kills her eldest brother, but he is
resuscitated by the Water of Life.
Through the Moors, perhaps, the story found its way among the wandering
tribes (the Kabail) of Northern Africa, who have curiously distorted its
chief features, though not beyond recognition, as will be seen from the
following abstract of their version, from M. Rivière’s collection of
“Contes Populaires de la Kabylie du Djurdjura” (Paris, 1882):