Finding that but little of the ointment was left in the first and
larger of the two jars which he had purchased of Abdurrahman, Haroun
Alraschid put it away in his cabinet, determining to use no more of it
until some occasion of pressing need should arise. And sending for his
treasurer he commanded him to produce the second and smaller of the two
jars, that he might open it and ascertain the virtue possessed by the
ointment in that jar.
As in the case of the former jar, he found immediately within the
second jar when he opened it a narrow strip of parchment, on which was
written:
"Hail to thee, purchaser of this ointment most marvellous and magical!
Rub but a little of it behind each of thine ears and thou shalt
forthwith understand the language of all birds and beasts, even as
Solomon, the great king and the wisest of men, understood them.
Nevertheless, at the first word of human speech that thou utterest
after thou hast applied the ointment the power of understanding the
speech of birds and of beasts shall depart from thee. For so it is
decreed by the maker of the ointment according to the nature of the
magical art in conformity with which it is compounded."
When the Caliph had read these words and reflected how small a quantity
of ointment the little jar contained, and how precarious was the power
it conferred, liable as it was to be extinguished at any moment by a
hasty word, he determined to refrain from testing it until a suitable
occasion should present itself. Placing it therefore in a small chest
or coffer, he entrusted it to a certain slave, whom he ordered to carry
it carefully and be in attendance with it at all times, so that
whenever the opportunity of making trial of its virtue should arrive
the ointment might be at hand and in readiness.
About this time it happened that Zobeideh, Haroun's favourite wife, had
prepared a magnificent entertainment at the splendid palace which the
Caliph had erected for her. And, as it happened, the next evening
after Haroun had opened the second jar of ointment, he attended
Zobeideh's entertainment. As he entered the gardens of the palace he
perceived Zobeideh seated on a raised seat or throne in the middle of
the garden, with groups of her women in their most gorgeous apparel
surrounding her. They all rose and went forward to meet the Caliph as
he entered, while others, scattered in parties about the grounds, made
a concert of vocal and instrumental music for his diversion. As he
seated himself on the throne with Zobeideh by his side the scene was
very charming. The arcades enclosing the gardens with their marble and
gilded columns were festooned with many coloured lights, lanterns hung
in the trees, illuminating the gardens and the lofty fountains, which
broke into ten thousand sparkling jewels and fell splashing into the
wide marble basins at their base.
After sitting for some time watching this brilliant scene the Caliph
rose and wandered slowly through the grounds, until at length he came
to a grove of trees, so artfully enclosed by gilded lattice work
concealed by climbing plants that it formed an aviary vast in size and
filled with birds of every kind and hue. In this delightful retreat a
natural concert greeted him of feathered songsters darting to and fro
and singing lustily.
Two little silktails perched upon a neighbouring branch particularly
attracted his attention. He had seated himself on a mossy bank in a
retired nook, close by the spot chosen by the chatterers for their
lively and very animated conversation. Being curious to know what they
were talking of, and convinced that the present offered as favourable
an opportunity for listening to bird-talk as any he was likely to meet
with, the Caliph ordered the slave who carried it to bring him at once
the little jar of ointment, and applying some behind each ear as the
writing contained in the jar had directed, he prepared to maintain a
strict silence and listen attentively. As soon as he had applied the
ointment he found that he understood the conversation of his little
neighbours as clearly as though they had been expressing themselves in
the purest Arabic.
"What!" said the one bird to the other, "is it possible that you can be
so deluded and mistaken? Desire to be a man! I am truly surprised and
shocked at so absurd and degrading a notion. If now you had expressed
a wish to be one of the nobler animals, a lion or a tiger, for
instance, I might have excused you. But a man! Only consider how low
in the scale of creation the creature is! Not only is he confined to
the earth like other animals, and unable to range as we do through the
air, but consider how miserable a slave he is, how he has to toil from
morning to night to supply his mere necessities. No wonder his throat
gives forth only harsh and unmeaning sounds, instead of the nobler roar
of the lion or the bright and cheering song notes of us birds!
Moreover, the unfortunate creature is evidently cursed by Allah, being
alone among all creatures left naked and defenceless. The beasts have
warm and beautiful coats of fur provided for them, and they find their
food without work or toil. While as for ourselves, we find insects and
grubs and worms all delicious eating, and that without stint or
trouble; and as regards the covering of our bodies, I think without
vanity these lovely feathers are not only as warm as the fur of
animals, but much prettier and more becoming."
Saying this, the silktail looked back over her glossy and radiant
plumage with such a self-satisfied glance as made the Caliph smile.
"Whereas," she continued, "that unfortunate creature, man, being left
by bountiful Nature naked and cold, has to cover himself as best he may
with a sorry patchwork of shreds and tatters such as he can contrive to
procure either from vegetable fibres, the tissue of silkworms, or the
furs or feathers he is driven to secure by force or stratagem either
from beasts or from ourselves. In almost every particular the wretched
creature is a mere drudge, slaving continually for others and getting
nothing by his toil for himself. Who planted this charming grove, who
waters and tends it? Man. And who enjoys the use and benefit of it?
Surely ourselves. Who made the pretty lattice-work that encloses it?"
"And shuts us in," said the other.
"And shuts the falcon and the vulture out," continued the first
speaker; "why, our poor friend and servant, man. And do you desire to
share that servitude?"
"My dear mother," replied the other bird, "I admit that what you say of
man is for the most part very true; in many things he appears to act
with great stupidity. For instance, he has planted this pleasant grove
and supplies it with water, and has fenced it in very carefully, and
for no purpose apparently or any use that it is to him. He comes now
and then and looks at his work without uttering a sound, as mute as a
fish and not half so active and joyous. And yet, though he is a
melancholy drudge enough, he effects great things. By his very
weakness and his naturally defenceless condition he has been rendered
so cunning and so full of contrivances that he manages to subdue even
those free and noble animals, the lion, the tiger, and the leopard, and
to capture and destroy even such mighty birds of prey as the vulture
and the eagle. See, too, what huge and surprising nests he is able to
fashion, such as that hard by this very grove."
"My child," said the mother bird, "you confuse the ruler of these
animals with those over whom he rules. The one has indeed a fine nest
and an easy life, but the others are lodged very differently, and
labour from morning till night."
"I confess," said the younger bird, "that it was rather of the prince
than of his subjects that I was thinking when I wished to be a man.
Only consider how enviable a position he enjoys, with so many beings
under his command, and with so many fine gardens to live and take his
pleasure in."
"And with so charming and faithful a wife to prepare entertainments for
him," said the older bird, sarcastically. "I wonder how the prince you
foolishly envy would have looked if he had seen her only yesterday
evening as we did with another man at her feet?"
"Allah! is it true?" thundered out Haroun Alraschid, in a terrible rage.
The sudden movement and exclamation frightened the little birds, who
flew swiftly away. A matter of the less consequence, as the Caliph had
by speaking destroyed the spell, and could have understood no more of
the dialogue even had it continued. But he was in fact far too angry
and excited at the moment to notice this or anything else.
Clapping his hands to summon his slaves and attendants, he commanded
the palace of Zobeideh to be instantly surrounded, and all who might be
found therein at once to be made prisoners. This hasty measure
produced, as might have been expected, no results. No one was arrested
but those belonging to Zobeideh's household, and all, as a matter of
course, professed entire ignorance of the entrance at any time whatever
of any man within the sacred precincts of Zobeideh's palace.
Haroun, in the first transports of his rage, contemplated ordering
every man in Bagdad between fifteen and fifty years of age to be
executed. But the Grand Vizier having hinted that some difficulty
might be experienced in executing so wholesale an order, and, moreover,
that the actual culprit might very probably even in that case manage to
effect his escape, the Caliph decided to cause Zobeideh to be brought
before him that he might interrogate her himself.
When that unhappy princess entered, and, throwing herself at his feet,
asked him in what way she had offended or aggrieved his Majesty, Haroun
reproached her bitterly.
"Woman," said he, "have I not loaded you with favours, and bestowed
upon you with unstinting hand all that your imagination could fancy or
your heart desire? Ungrateful, like all your race; faithless, like all
your sex; you have fawned upon me to my face, and betrayed me behind my
back. Say, is it not so?"
"My lord," she answered, "whoever has told you aught to my discredit
has foully lied. I have ever been faithful to your Majesty, and happy
is the man, be he prince or slave, who has a wife no less faithful than
I have been."
"Accursed woman!" retorted Haroun, fiercely, "notwithstanding this
confident tone on your part, I know you to be guilty; therefore tell me
at once who was that man whom you dared to receive in your garden
yesterday, or, by Allah! into the Tigris in a sack you shall go as
though you were but the meanest of my slaves."
Zobeideh, perceiving from these words that concealment was impossible,
and well knowing from the fiery temper of the Caliph that he was quite
capable of executing his threat to the letter, replied as follows:
"Since the Commander of the Faithful has discovered, I know not how,
that I gave audience to a man yesterday in the garden of my palace, I
will confess to the Commander of the Faithful, to whom all things are
revealed, the name of the man whom I saw. It was Hunoman, my
foster-brother. He is the son of my nurse, and we were brought up
together as young children, and loved each other as children love, the
sister the brother, and the brother the sister. At seven years of age,
his father having died, an uncle took him to India. Only two days
since he returned, and, learning this from the old nurse, his mother, I
became desirous to see once more the little playfellow of my childhood,
to behold the man I had always thought of as a brother, and hear from
his own lips an account of the countries and peoples he had visited,
the dangers he had encountered, and the manner in which he had
contrived to escape from them. I heard that he had brought some rare
and valuable presents for me. I determined that he should present them
in person. In this I did wrong, but, in the name of the most merciful
God, I appeal to the Caliph for mercy, both for my foster-brother, who
consented to see me only after much persuasion and with the utmost
unwillingness, and also for myself, who am guilty of no other sin than
the indulgence of curiosity, which is a sin that so magnanimous a king
as your Majesty will be able to pardon in a woman."
Haroun, who thought that Zobeideh was now telling the truth, and who
was in truth by no means displeased to find his suspicions concerning
her conduct to be unfounded, asked with great calmness--
"What said you is the name of this man?"
"His name," said Zobeideh, "is Hunoman."
"And where is he to be found? for I must see him."
"He is staying at present with his mother, Siveree, my nurse, to whom I
have given a small house near the river side."