Like other peoples the world over, the Afghans use the beast fable to
point morals and illustrate rules of conduct. Perhaps the moral is
not invariably such as commends itself to Western standards, and the
methods applauded are sometimes not such as would make for popularity
in more civilized circles. But what would you? The characteristics of
a race colour its literature, and the more homely the literature the
clearer the colouring. Hence the Afghan beast fable more frequently
than not reflects the respectful admiration accorded the successful
exercise of craft and cunning, for which self-helpful qualities the
dwellers on the other side of the North-Western Frontier of India are
famed.
Soldiers who are acquainted with Afghan usages in warfare will
appreciate the truth of the maxim which furnishes the text for the
story of the Camel-rider, the Snake, and the Fox. A man riding on his
camel happened to pass a place where a jungle fire was raging, and a
snake, calling from the midst of the flames, begged his aid. The man,
ignoring the snake's enmity to the human race and considering only his
present danger, consented to save him: he lowered his saddle-bag to the
ground, and the snake, having coiled himself up in it, was carried by
his rescuer to a place of safety. Then the man opened his bag and bade
the snake go, with an admonition to behave better towards mankind for
the future. The snake made answer, "Until I have stung thee and this
camel of thine I will not depart!"
[Illustration: "UNTIL I HAVE STUNG THEE AND THIS CAMEL OF THINE I WILL
NOT DEPART."]
The man, hurt by this black ingratitude, drew the snake's attention
to the service he had just rendered. The snake admitted his debt, but
pointed out that his rescuer had acted injudiciously, in view of the
hereditary enmity existing between snakes and men. The two proceeded
to argue the point in commendably temperate spirit, the snake laying
stress on the circumstance that mankind "always return evil for good";
and the man, denying it, eventually agreed that if the snake could find
a witness to the truth of his assertion he would submit to be stung.
[Illustration: "'IT IS STRANGE THAT THOU IN MY VERY PRESENCE TALKEST OF
"I" AND "MINE,"' SAID THE TIGER."]
The witness was found in the person of an elderly cow-buffalo. Examined
by the snake, she succinctly reviewed her career, and gave it as her
opinion that man's creed was to return evil for good, inasmuch as her
owner, when she ceased to give milk, turned her out to graze till she
should be fat enough to kill. Upon this testimony the snake claimed
fulfilment of the bargain. The man, however, urged that two witnesses
were necessary, and, the snake consenting, a tree was called upon
for his opinion. The tree, in a few well-chosen sentences, recalled
the fact that for years he had granted shade to all men who sought
his protection in the heat of day; but, he complained, when they had
rested they always looked him over and, if they happened to have tools,
lopped off a branch to make a spade-handle or axe-haft. They went even
further, reckoning up the use they could make of their protector from
the scorching sun if they reduced him to planks. In short, the tree was
distinctly of the cow-buffalo's way of thinking. The camel-man, sorely
perplexed, was wondering how he could gain time when a fox came by and
asked, in his sarcastic way, "What kindness hast thou shown this snake,
that he desires to do thee harm?"
Having heard the story the fox refused to believe it; the bag was
small, and he was sure so large a snake could not get into it. Of
course, the snake had no alternative but to show that he could; so
the fox obligingly held the bag open for him, and when he was fairly
entrapped handed him over to the man to kill. "A wise man should not be
gulled by the cries for mercy of his foes; otherwise he will fall into
misfortune," is the suggestive moral. It does not say much for Afghan
principle, does it?
The fox, as ever, serves the Afghan fabulist for the personification
of cunning and ingenuity. The tale of the Tiger, the Wolf, and the Fox
exhibits the last-named in the character of the discreet and sagacious
courtier. These three animals one day went hunting together, and having
killed a wild hill-goat, a deer, and a hare, took them home to the
tiger's den to eat. Having settled themselves comfortably, the tiger
requested the wolf to divide the game as he thought fit; whereupon the
wolf allotted the hill-goat as the biggest to the tiger, the deer to
himself, and the hare to the fox. "It is strange that thou in my very
presence talkest of 'I' and 'mine,'" said the tiger. "Who and what art
thou, and what opinion hast thou of me?" and raising his paw he struck
the wolf dead on the spot. Then he turned to the fox and requested him
to divide the spoil. The fox instantly replied that the hill-goat would
do for his Majesty's breakfast, the deer would serve for his Majesty's
dinner at noon, and, of course, the hare must be reserved for his
Majesty's supper. "And from whom," said the tiger, with well-feigned
curiosity, "didst thou learn this mode of distribution and this
sagacity?"
The fox replied that he was one who took warning from the fate of
others. The tiger (who could not have been very hungry) expounded his
own idea of justice, which was that the sagacious fox should have the
whole bag of game while the tiger got more for himself; "and after
this I will do whatever thou tellest me." A significant hint that
physical strength does wisely to profit by the craft of the weaker. A
fable closely resembling this, but in which, of course, the lion takes
the part here played by the tiger, is current among some North African
tribes.
One of the cleverest tales is that of the Merchant and his Parrot,
which illustrates the great Afghan maxim that you can procure by craft
what you can procure by no other means. A certain merchant, says the
fable, was about to make a journey south into India. Before setting out
he assembled his family and requested each member to name the gift he
or she would like brought home. Last of all he asked the parrot, who
was a native of Hindustan, what he could do for him in that country.
The parrot at once begged him to visit a certain forest, where some
more parrots would probably be found. "Give them my compliments and
tell them that such and such a parrot, who is a friend of theirs,
is confined in a cage in your house and says, 'This is a strange
friendship, that I should be in bondage while you, quite unconcerned
for my fate, flit hither and thither.' Now, whatever reply they give,"
said the parrot, "deliver it to me." The merchant punctually fulfilled
his promise. He found the forest and the parrots and gave his parrot's
message; and having done so was distressed to observe that one of the
birds was so profoundly affected that, after a spasm of trembling and
fluttering, he fell lifeless to the ground.
[Illustration: "AFTER A SPASM OF TREMBLING AND FLUTTERING, HE FELL
LIFELESS TO THE GROUND."]
On his return home, after he had distributed the presents he had
brought among his family, his parrot inquired whether he had not
something to say to him. The merchant, fearful of grieving the bird,
fenced with the question, but when the parrot grew huffy and told him
he need not speak if he did not choose he relented, and with many
expressions of regret told the fatal consequences of delivering the
message. When the parrot heard of the death of his friend he, too,
was seized with flutterings and shiverings, and then and there fell
dead from his perch. The merchant shed tears over him and, after great
lamentation, threw the body out of the cage. No sooner did the parrot
touch the ground, however, than he came to life again and flew on to
the top of the house; and the merchant, staring in amazement, asked for
explanations. The parrot thereupon explained that his friend had sent
this message: "Pretend to be dead and thou wilt get free."
"Now I, of course, understood his meaning from what thou saidst," added
the parrot, "so I gained my freedom. I now ask thee, as I have eaten
thy salt"--mark the punctilious courtesy of parrots educated in Afghan
homes--"to forgive me. Good-bye."
"I forgive thee," said the crestfallen merchant. "God preserve thee."
And the parrot went his way, saying, "Peace be with thee."
As we might expect of an animal so feared and hated, the tiger never
figures in fable as heroic, but always as a stupid, blustering bully,
to be outwitted by any creature, however weak, who has a little
cunning. The tale of the Tiger and the Jackal is a good example. A
tiger who, exercising a liberty of choice unknown to natural history,
had engaged a female monkey as his companion and housekeeper, went
out one day on business, enjoining the monkey to stay at home and let
nobody enter the house.
By-and-by there came a jackal with his wife and family, house-hunting.
Mr. Jackal, impressed at first sight with the eligibility of the
tiger's premises, forthwith entered and took possession, ignoring the
protests and warnings of the monkey housekeeper. Mrs. Jackal would
have had her husband leave, but he refused; and while they argued the
tiger was heard approaching. The monkey hastened to meet him and tell
what had happened; but the tiger could not bring himself to believe
that a jackal would be so reckless and insolent as to take possession
of his house. "It must be some other horrid creature," he said. And
though the monkey protested that she knew a jackal when she saw one,
the tiger could not credit her story. Meantime the jackal had arranged
his plans. When the tiger drew near his house he heard the little
jackals crying and Mrs. Jackal say to her husband, "They want tiger's
meat," and Mr. Jackal's reply: "It was only yesterday I killed an
enormous tiger. Has the meat been finished already? Nonsense!"
[Illustration: "ONCE MORE THE TIGER VENTURED NEAR ENOUGH TO HEAR THE
YOUNG JACKALS CRYING."]
Mrs. Jackal explained that her children wanted fresh meat, and Mr.
Jackal then told the cubs to wait a little. "A great big tiger will
come presently, and I will kill him, and you shall have fresh meat."
When the tiger overheard this he was terrified and ran away, but the
monkey, following him, contrived to allay his fears, explaining that
the jackals were fooling him, and persuaded him to come back. Once more
the tiger ventured near enough to hear the young jackals crying, but
this time he also hears their father say to them, soothingly:--
"That monkey, who is a great friend of mine, has told me that she
would, without fail, bring me a tiger to-day."
Whereupon the tiger, only pausing to strike the unfortunate monkey
dead, fled without once looking behind him.
[Illustration: "THE TIGER FLED WITHOUT ONCE LOOKING BEHIND HIM."]
Another tale shows the tiger victimized by the cunning of the hare.
In this fable the tiger discovers quite remarkable skill in debate;
he discourses eloquently on the dignity of labour to justify his
depredations in the jungle, and only after prolonged discussion with
the beasts does he consent to their proposal that he shall stay at
home and they provide him with a daily victim. For a time all goes
smoothly; then the hare's turn comes and she objects, saying, "How long
is this oppression to last?" The other beasts cry out upon her for
wishing to break the agreement, and are only half satisfied when the
hare hints that she has a plan for making an end of the tiger. They
wish to know what it is; but the hare in reply quotes a saying which,
by the way, sheds significant light on the insecurity of travellers'
lives and property in Afghanistan. "Three matters," she reminds them,
"are best concealed: first, one's money; second, the time one intends
to start on a journey; third, the road one intends to take."
In a word, she keeps her own counsel and starts so late for the tiger's
den that that animal grows hungry and--there is a good deal of human
nature in tigers--very angry at the delay of his dinner. When the hare,
apparently in a great hurry, arrived the tiger abused her vehemently,
and with difficulty is induced to hear her explanation. She and a
friend, she says, were on their way to him when they met another tiger
who seized them; she warned their captor that they were set apart for
the service of their own king, but the strange tiger threatened to
tear their king to pieces. At length, said the hare, she persuaded the
strange tiger to grant her respite that she might come and explain
matters; and she had been granted this favour, leaving her friend in
his clutches.
"Do not expect any more victims," she concluded. "The road hither is
closed by that tiger. If thou desirest thy daily food, go at once and
clear the road."
[Illustration: "THE TIGER BESIDE HIMSELF WITH RAGE."]
At this the tiger, beside himself with rage, jumps up, calling on the
hare to come and show where his rival is, and the hare obediently
follows, until they come in sight of a well by the road. There she lags
behind; she is frightened to death. Cannot the tiger see how pale she
is? Nothing will induce her to go near that well, for therein is hiding
the other tiger, who holds her friend captive. The tiger insists that
she shall come and point out the other tiger. Well, the hare will do
so on condition that his Majesty holds her in his arms. He does so,
and, peeping into the water, sees their reflection in the water below;
whereupon he sets the hare down, and springing into the well to fall
upon his enemy is drowned.
A story that seems familiar is that of the friendship of the frog and
the rat. These two conceived so deep a regard for one another that
they were miserable apart: the rat, more particularly, bewailed the
facts that she only saw the frog once a day, and that he, being in the
stream, could not hear her when she called. The frog, whose attachment
appears not wholly to have obscured his native good sense, pointed out
that "if friends see each other occasionally only their affection is
the greater," to which argument, albeit undeniable, the rat objected
that in their case some means of establishing closer communication were
indispensable.
The frog gave way, and the two agreed to tie the ends of a string to
a leg of each, so that when one wanted to see the other all he or she
need do was to pull the string. Other frogs came around and pointed out
the obvious objections to supplementing the bonds of their affection
with string, but neither would listen.
"It is all right," they said; "if we die together, so much the better";
and so they tied themselves as they had arranged. And one day came a
kite, who pounced upon the rat, who could not escape because he tripped
in the string; and the kite, carrying away the rat, carried away the
frog at the other end of the string. And the dying moments of the frog
were embittered by hearing the villagers applaud the cleverness of a
kite who could catch frogs; whereas he knew the kite had done nothing
clever, but that he himself had done something very foolish.
[Illustration: "IF WE DIE TOGETHER, SO MUCH THE BETTER."]
Another tale exhibits the helpless old tiger dependent for his daily
fare on the cunning of his humble follower the fox, and insists upon
the stupidity of the ass. The tiger was so old and decrepit that he
could not hunt for himself, and he appealed to an elderly vixen, who
was also hungry, to lure an ox or some other beast within his reach.
The vixen willingly assents, and searching the country finds an ass
feeding. Him she accosts with respectful sympathy, asking why he
grazes on such poor pasture. The ass, who, by the way, is deplorably
long-winded, replies by giving the vixen a lecture on the propriety of
contentment with one's lot.
[Illustration: "HE APPEALED TO AN ELDERLY VIXEN."]
The vixen listens patiently and replies, Eastern fashion, with a brief
parable, whose moral is that those who can help themselves to the good
things of life should do so. The vixen's parable reminds the ass of
another rather like it, but very much longer and pointing a different
moral; he relates it with circumstance and detail. After much argument
the vixen loses patience, and upbraiding the ass for his want of
enterprise describes in graphic language the attractions of certain
pasture known to her; and the ass, his hopes getting the better of his
discretion, follows, till they come within eye range of the tiger.
The tiger, being very hungry, cannot wait till the ass comes within
reach; he rushes out prematurely and frightens the ass away. This
precipitation on the tiger's part gives rise to unpleasantness. The
vixen, naturally enough, is furiously angry at the way her scheme has
been upset after all the trouble she has had with the argumentative
ass, and she speaks her mind freely to the tiger. He apologizes, and
the vixen consents to try and bring the prey within reach again. In
fine, she out-argues the foolish ass and eventually brings him to her
patron.
[Illustration: "SHE SPEAKS HER MIND FREELY TO THE TIGER."]
The story of the Cock and Hawk furnishes a caution against talking
about things we don't understand. These two were great friends and
spent much time together. One day the hawk, in didactic mood, took the
cock to task for the shameful ingratitude of his race; men fed fowls
on all kinds of luxuries, and cared for them carefully, and yet never
did fowl see a man approach but it ran away. Now the hawk, on the
other hand, repaid captivity and cruelties with the utmost gratitude,
catching and killing game to order. When the cock heard his friend's
views he was so amused that he nearly dropped with laughing. The hawk,
rather stiffly, inquires what he has said that the cock should be so
overcome with amusement; and, being reminded that men only feed fowls
in order to kill and eat them, confesses that this most important
detail had never struck him.
It is curious to observe that all the Afghan beast fables are
distinguished by the same quality of sardonic humour, but they have
this great merit, that they never fail to drive home the moral.
[Illustration: "HE WAS SO AMUSED THAT HE NEARLY DROPPED."]
_Wonders of the World._
[Illustration: A GENERAL VIEW OF THE SALTO MONOCYCLE TRACK.
_From a Photo. by Rochlitz._]