at the moon, all thy talents are lost to the world. I shall one day be a
sovereign prince, and may advance thee to some post of honor and
dignity.”
The owl, though a philosopher and above the ordinary wants of life, was
not above ambition; so he was finally prevailed on to elope with the
prince, and be his guide and mentor in his pilgrimage.
The plans of a lover are promptly executed. The prince collected all his
jewels, and concealed them about his person as travelling funds. That
very night he lowered himself by his scarf from a balcony of the tower,
clambered over the outer walls of the Generalife, and, guided by the
owl, made good his escape before morning to the mountains.
He now held a council with his mentor as to his future course.
“Might I advise,” said the owl, “I would recommend you to repair to
Seville. You must know that many years since I was on a visit to an
uncle, an owl of great dignity and power, who lived in a ruined wing of
the Alcazar of that place. In my hoverings at night over the city I
frequently remarked a light burning in a lonely tower. At length I
alighted on the battlements, and found it to proceed from the lamp of an
Arabian magician: he was surrounded by his magic books, and on his
shoulder was perched his familiar, an ancient raven who had come with
him from Egypt. I am acquainted with that raven, and owe to him a great
part of the knowledge I possess. The magician is since dead, but the
raven still inhabits the tower, for these birds are of wonderful long
life. I would advise you, O prince, to seek that raven, for he is a
soothsayer and a conjurer, and deals in the black art, for which all
ravens, and especially those of Egypt, are renowned.”
The prince was struck with the wisdom of this advice, and accordingly
bent his course towards Seville. He travelled only in the night, to
accommodate his companion, and lay by during the day in some dark cavern
or mouldering watch-tower, for the owl knew every hiding-hole of the
kind, and had a most antiquarian taste for ruins.
At length one morning at daybreak they reached the city of Seville,
where the owl, who hated the glare and bustle of crowded streets,
halted without the gate, and took up his quarters in a hollow tree.
The prince entered the gate, and readily found the magic tower, which
rose above the houses of the city, as a palm-tree rises above the shrubs
of the desert; it was in fact the same tower standing at the present
day, and known as the Giralda, the famous Moorish tower of Seville.
The prince ascended by a great winding staircase to the summit of the
tower, where he found the cabalistic raven,--an old, mysterious,
gray-headed bird, ragged in feather, with a film over one eye that gave
him the glare of a spectre. He was perched on one leg, with his head
turned on one side, poring with his remaining eye on a diagram described
on the pavement.
The prince approached him with the awe and reverence naturally inspired
by his venerable appearance and supernatural wisdom. “Pardon me, most
ancient and darkly wise raven,” exclaimed he, “if for a moment I
interrupt those studies which are the wonder of the world. You behold
before you a votary of love, who would fain seek your counsel how to
obtain the object of his passion.”
“In other words,” said the raven, with a significant look, “you seek to
try my skill in palmistry. Come, show me your hand, and let me decipher
the mysterious lines of fortune.”
“Excuse me,” said the prince, “I come not to pry into the decrees of
fate, which are hidden by Allah from the eyes of mortals; I am a pilgrim
of love, and seek but to find a clue to the object of my pilgrimage.”
“And can you be at any loss for an object in amorous Andalusia?” said
the old raven, leering upon him with his single eye; “above all, can you
be at a loss in wanton Seville, where black-eyed damsels dance the
zambra under every orange grove?”
The prince blushed, and was somewhat shocked at hearing an old bird with
one foot in the grave talk thus loosely. “Believe me,” said he, gravely,
“I am on none such light and vagrant errand as thou dost insinuate. The
black-eyed damsels of Andalusia who dance among the orange groves of the
Guadalquivir are as naught to me. I seek one unknown but immaculate
beauty, the original of this picture; and I beseech thee, most potent
raven, if it be within the scope of thy knowledge or the reach of thy
art, inform me where she may be found.”
The gray-headed raven was rebuked by the gravity of the prince.
“What know I,” replied he, dryly, “of youth and beauty? my visits are to
the old and withered, not the fresh and fair: the harbinger of fate am
I; who croak bodings of death from the chimney-top, and flap my wings at
the sick man’s window. You must seek elsewhere for tidings of your
unknown beauty.”
“And where can I seek if not among the sons of wisdom, versed in the
book of destiny? Know that I am a royal prince, fated by the stars, and
sent on a mysterious enterprise on which may hang the destiny of
empires.”
When the raven heard that it was a matter of vast moment, in which the
stars took interest, he changed his tone and manner, and listened with
profound attention to the story of the prince. When it was concluded, he
replied, “Touching this princess, I can give thee no information of
myself, for my flight is not among gardens, or around ladies’ bowers;
but hie thee to Cordova, seek the palm-tree of the great Abderahman,
which stands in the court of the principal mosque: at the foot of it
thou wilt find a great traveller who has visited all countries and
courts, and been a favorite with queens and princesses. He will give
thee tidings of the object of thy search.”
“Many thanks for this precious information,” said the prince. “Farewell,
most venerable conjurer.”
“Farewell, pilgrim of love,” said the raven, dryly, and again fell to
pondering on the diagram.
The prince sallied forth from Seville, sought his fellow-traveller the
owl, who was still dozing in the hollow tree, and set off for Cordova.
He approached it along hanging gardens, and orange and citron groves,
overlooking the fair valley of the Guadalquivir. When arrived at its
gates the owl flew up to a dark hole in the wall, and the prince
proceeded in quest of the palm-tree planted in days of yore by the great
Abderahman. It stood in the midst of the great court of the mosque,
towering from amidst orange and cypress trees. Dervises and Faquirs were
seated in groups under the cloisters of the court, and many of the
faithful were performing their ablutions at the fountains before
entering the mosque.
At the foot of the palm-tree was a crowd listening to the words of one
who appeared to be talking with great volubility. “This,” said the
prince to himself, “must be the great traveller who is to give me
tidings of the unknown princess.” He mingled in the crowd, but was
astonished to perceive that they were all listening to a parrot, who
with his bright-green coat, pragmatical eye, and consequential top-knot,
had the air of a bird on excellent terms with himself.
“How is this,” said the prince to one of the bystanders, “that so many
grave persons can be delighted with the garrulity of a chattering bird?”
“You know not whom you speak of,” said the other; “this parrot is a
descendant of the famous parrot of Persia, renowned for his
story-telling talent. He has all the learning of the East at the tip of
his tongue, and can quote poetry as fast as he can talk. He has visited
various foreign courts, where he has been considered an oracle of
erudition. He has been a universal favorite also with the fair sex, who
have a vast admiration for erudite parrots that can quote poetry.”
“Enough,” said the prince, “I will have some private talk with this
distinguished traveller.”
He sought a private interview, and expounded the nature of his errand.
He had scarcely mentioned it when the parrot burst into a fit of dry
rickety laughter, that absolutely brought tears into his eyes. “Excuse
my merriment,” said he, “but the mere mention of love always sets me
laughing.”
The prince was shocked at this ill-timed mirth. “Is not love,” said he,
“the great mystery of nature, the secret principle of life, the
universal bond of sympathy?”
“A fig’s end!” cried the parrot, interrupting him; “prithee where hast
thou learned this sentimental jargon? trust me, love is quite out of
vogue; one never hears of it in the company of wits and people of
refinement.”
The prince sighed as he recalled the different language of his friend
the dove. But this parrot, thought he, has lived about the court, he
affects the wit and the fine gentleman, he knows nothing of the thing
called love. Unwilling to provoke any more ridicule of the sentiment
which filled his heart, he now directed his inquiries to the immediate
purport of his visit.
“Tell me,” said he, “most accomplished parrot, thou who hast everywhere
been admitted to the most secret bowers of beauty, hast thou in the
course of thy travels met with the original of this portrait?”
The parrot took the picture in his claw, turned his head from side to
side, and examined it curiously with either eye. “Upon my honor,” said
he, “a very pretty face, very pretty; but then one sees so many pretty
women in one’s travels that one can hardly--but hold--bless me! now I
look at it again--sure enough, this is the Princess Aldegonda: how could
I forget one that is so prodigious a favorite with me!”
“The Princess Aldegonda!” echoed the prince; “and where is she to be
found?”
“Softly, softly,” said the parrot, “easier to be found than gained. She
is the only daughter of the Christian king who reigns at Toledo, and is
shut up from the world until her seventeenth birthday, on account of
some prediction of those meddlesome fellows the astrologers. You’ll not
get a sight of her; no mortal man can see her. I was admitted to her
presence to entertain her, and I assure you, on the word of a parrot who
has seen the world, I have conversed with much sillier princesses in my
time.”
“A word in confidence, my dear parrot,” said the prince. “I am heir to a
kingdom, and shall one day sit upon a throne. I see that you are a bird
of parts, and understand the world. Help me to gain possession of this
princess, and I will advance you to some distinguished place about
court.”
“With all my heart,” said the parrot; “but let it be a sinecure if
possible, for we wits have a great dislike to labor.”
Arrangements were promptly made: the prince sallied forth from Cordova
through the same gate by which he had entered; called the owl down from
the hole in the wall, introduced him to his new travelling companion as
a brother savant, and away they set off on their journey.
They travelled much more slowly than accorded with the impatience of the
prince; but the parrot was accustomed to high life, and did not like to
be disturbed early in the morning. The owl, on the other hand, was for
sleeping at mid-day, and lost a great deal of time by his long siestas.
His antiquarian taste also was in the way; for he insisted on pausing
and inspecting every ruin, and had long legendary tales to tell about
every old tower and castle in the country. The prince had supposed that
he and the parrot, being both birds of learning, would delight in each
other’s society, but never had he been more mistaken. They were
eternally bickering. The one was a wit, the other a philosopher. The
parrot quoted poetry, was critical on new readings and eloquent on small
points of erudition; the owl treated all such knowledge as trifling, and
relished nothing but metaphysics. Then the parrot would sing songs and
repeat _bon mots_ and crack jokes upon his solemn neighbor, and laugh
outrageously at his own wit; all which proceedings the owl considered as
a grievous invasion of his dignity, and would scowl and sulk and swell,
and be silent for a whole day together.
The prince heeded not the wranglings of his companions, being wrapped up
in the dreams of his own fancy and the contemplation of the portrait of
the beautiful princess. In this way they journeyed through the stern
passes of the Sierra Morena, across the sunburnt plains of La Mancha and
Castile, and along the banks of the “Golden Tagus,” which winds its
wizard mazes over one half of Spain and Portugal. At length they came in
sight of a strong city with walls and towers built on a rocky
promontory, round the foot of which the Tagus circled with brawling
violence.
“Behold,” exclaimed the owl, “the ancient and renowned city of Toledo; a
city famous for its antiquities. Behold those venerable domes and
towers, hoary with time and clothed with legendary grandeur, in which so
many of my ancestors have meditated.”
“Pish!” cried the parrot, interrupting his solemn antiquarian rapture,
“what have we to do with antiquities, and legends, and your ancestry?
Behold what is more to the purpose--behold the abode of youth and
beauty--behold at length, O prince, the abode of your long-sought
princess.”
The prince looked in the direction indicated by the parrot, and beheld,
in a delightful green meadow on the banks of the Tagus, a stately
palace rising from amidst the bowers of a delicious garden. It was just
such a place as had been described by the dove as the residence of the
original of the picture. He gazed at it with a throbbing heart; “perhaps
at this moment,” thought he, “the beautiful princess is sporting beneath
those shady bowers, or pacing with delicate step those stately terraces,
or reposing beneath those lofty roofs!” As he looked more narrowly, he
perceived that the walls of the garden were of great height, so as to
defy access, while numbers of armed guards patrolled around them.
The prince turned to the parrot. “O most accomplished of birds,” said
he, “thou hast the gift of human speech. Hie thee to yon garden; seek
the idol of my soul, and tell her that Prince Ahmed, a pilgrim of love,
and guided by the stars, has arrived in quest of her on the flowery
banks of the Tagus.”
The parrot, proud of his embassy, flew away to the garden, mounted above
its lofty walls, and after soaring for a time over the lawns and groves,
alighted on the balcony of a pavilion that overhung the river. Here,
looking in at the casement, he beheld the princess reclining on a couch,
with her eyes fixed on a paper, while tears gently stole after each
other down her pallid cheek.
Pluming his wings for a moment, adjusting his bright-green coat, and
elevating his top-knot, the parrot perched himself beside her with a
gallant air; then assuming a tenderness of tone, “Dry thy tears, most
beautiful of princesses,” said he; “I come to bring solace to thy
heart.”
The princess was startled on hearing a voice, but turning and seeing
nothing but a little green-coated bird bobbing and bowing before her,
“Alas! what solace canst thou yield,” said she, “seeing thou art but a
parrot?”
The parrot was nettled at the question. “I have consoled many beautiful
ladies in my time,” said he; “but let that pass. At present I come
ambassador from a royal prince. Know that Ahmed, the prince of Granada,
has arrived in quest of thee, and is encamped even now on the flowery
banks of the Tagus.”
The eyes of the beautiful princess sparkled at these words even brighter
than the diamonds in her coronet. “O sweetest of parrots,” cried she,
“joyful indeed are thy tidings, for I was faint and weary, and sick
almost unto death with doubt of the constancy of Ahmed. Hie thee back,
and tell him that the words of his letter are engraven in my heart, and
his poetry has been the food of my soul. Tell him, however, that he must
prepare to prove his love by force of arms; to-morrow is my seventeenth
birthday, when the king my father holds a great tournament; several
princes are to enter the lists, and my hand is to be the prize of the
victor.”
The parrot again took wing, and rustling through the groves, flew back
to where the prince awaited his return. The rapture of Ahmed on finding
the original of his adored portrait, and finding her kind and true, can
only be conceived by those favored mortals who have had the good fortune
to realize day-dreams and turn a shadow into substance: still there was
one thing that alloyed his transport--this impending tournament. In
fact, the banks of the Tagus were already glittering with arms, and
resounding with trumpets of the various knights, who, with proud
retinues, were prancing on towards Toledo to attend the ceremonial. The
same star that had controlled the destiny of the prince had governed
that of the princess, and until her seventeenth birthday she had been
shut up from the world, to guard her from the tender passion. The fame
of her charms, however, had been enhanced rather than obscured by this
seclusion. Several powerful princes had contended for her hand; and her
father, who was a king of wondrous shrewdness, to avoid making enemies
by showing partiality, had referred them to the arbitrament of arms.
Among the rival candidates were several renowned for strength and
prowess. What a predicament for the unfortunate Ahmed, unprovided as he
was with weapons, and unskilled in the exercise of chivalry! “Luckless
prince that I am!” said he, “to have been brought up in seclusion under
the eye of a philosopher! Of what avail are algebra and philosophy in
affairs of love? Alas, Eben Bonabben! why hast thou neglected to
instruct me in the management of arms?” Upon this the owl broke silence,
preluding his harangue with a pious ejaculation, for he was a devout
Mussulman.
“Allah Akbar! God is great!” exclaimed he; “in his hands are all secret
things--he alone governs the destiny of princes! Know, O prince, that
this land is full of mysteries, hidden from all but those who, like
myself, can grope after knowledge in the dark. Know that in the
neighboring mountains there is a cave, and in that cave there is an iron
table, and on that table there lies a suit of magic armor, and beside
that table there stands a spell-bound steed, which have been shut up
there for many generations.”
The prince stared with wonder, while the owl, blinking his huge round
eyes, and erecting his horns, proceeded.
“Many years since I accompanied my father to these parts on a tour of
his estates, and we sojourned in that cave; and thus became I acquainted
with the mystery. It is a tradition in our family which I have heard
from my grandfather, when I was yet but a very little owlet, that this
armor belonged to a Moorish magician, who took refuge in this cavern
when Toledo was captured by the Christians, and died here, leaving his
steed and weapons under a mystic spell, never to be used but by a
Moslem, and by him only from sunrise to mid-day. In that interval,
whoever uses them will overthrow every opponent.”
“Enough: let us seek this cave!” exclaimed Ahmed.
Guided by his legendary mentor, the prince found the cavern, which was
in one of the wildest recesses of those rocky cliffs which rise around
Toledo; none but the mousing eye of an owl or an antiquary could have
discovered the entrance to it. A sepulchral lamp of everlasting oil shed
a solemn light through the place. On an iron table in the centre of the
cavern lay the magic armor, against it leaned the lance, and beside it
stood an Arabian steed, caparisoned for the field, but motionless as a
statue. The armor was bright and unsullied as it had gleamed in days of
old; the steed in as good condition as if just from the pasture; and
when Ahmed laid his hand upon his neck, he pawed the ground and gave a
loud neigh of joy that shook the walls of the cavern. Thus amply
provided with “horse and rider and weapon to wear,” the prince
determined to defy the field in the impending tourney.
The eventful morning arrived. The lists for the combat were prepared in
the Vega, or plain, just below the cliff-built walls of Toledo, where
stages and galleries were erected for the spectators, covered with rich
tapestry, and sheltered from the sun by silken awnings. All the beauties
of the land were assembled in those galleries, while below pranced
plumed knights with their pages and esquires, among whom figured
conspicuously the princes who were to contend in the tourney. All the
beauties of the land, however, were eclipsed when the Princess Aldegonda
appeared in the royal pavilion, and for the first time broke forth upon
the gaze of an admiring world. A murmur of wonder ran through the crowd
at her transcendent loveliness; and the princes who were candidates for
her hand, merely on the faith of her reported charms, now felt tenfold
ardor for the conflict.
The princess, however, had a troubled look. The color came and went from
her cheek, and her eye wandered with a restless and unsatisfied
expression over the plumed throng of knights. The trumpets were about
sounding for the encounter, when the herald announced the arrival of a
strange knight; and Ahmed rode into the field. A steel helmet studded
with gems rose above his turban; his cuirass was embossed with gold; his
cimeter and dagger were of the workmanship of Fez, and flamed with
precious stones. A round shield was at his shoulder, and in his hand he
bore the lance of charmed virtue. The caparison of his Arabian steed was
richly embroidered and swept the ground, and the proud animal pranced
and snuffed the air, and neighed with joy at once more beholding the
array of arms. The lofty and graceful demeanor of the prince struck
every eye, and when his appellation was announced, “The Pilgrim of
Love,” a universal flutter and agitation prevailed among the fair dames
in the galleries.
When Ahmed presented himself at the lists, however, they were closed
against him: none but princes, he was told, were admitted to the
contest. He declared his name and rank. Still worse!--he was a Moslem,
and could not engage in a tourney where the hand of a Christian princess
was the prize.
The rival princes surrounded him with haughty and menacing aspects; and
one of insolent demeanor and herculean frame sneered at his light and
youthful form, and scoffed at his amorous appellation. The ire of the
prince was roused. He defied his rival to the encounter. They took
distance, wheeled, and charged; and at the first touch of the magic
lance, the brawny scoffer was tilted from his saddle. Here the prince
would have paused, but, alas! he had to deal with a demoniac horse and
armor; once in action, nothing could control them. The Arabian steed
charged into the thickest of the throng; the lance overturned everything
that presented; the gentle prince was carried pell-mell about the field,
strewing it with high and low, gentle and simple, and grieving at his
own involuntary exploits. The king stormed and raged at this outrage on
his subjects and his guests. He ordered out all his guards--they were
unhorsed as fast as they came up. The king threw off his robes, grasped
buckler and lance, and rode forth to awe the stranger with the presence
of majesty itself. Alas! majesty fared no better than the vulgar; the
steed and lance were no respecters of persons; to the dismay of Ahmed,
he was borne full tilt against the king, and in a moment the royal heels
were in the air, and the crown was rolling in the dust.