Between the rivers Kistnah and Beehma in the Deckhan, surrounded by wild
rocky hills, lies the town of Shorapoor, capital of a state of that
name, inhabited by a people who have generally been considered lawless,
superstitious, and quarrelsome. Of late years they have been more
industrious and peaceable, and though still an excitable race, may be
said to be advancing in the arts of peace.
It was during a more remote period, when few strangers ever ventured to
penetrate the country, that a weary-looking traveller, covered with
dust, entered one of the gates, and sat down for awhile at the side of a
well. He then proceeded to take off his waistband and turban, washed his
head and his feet, drank of the cool refreshing water, combed his beard
and moustachios, and spreading a small carpet on which he laid his
trusty sword, drew from his wallet a neat little muslin skullcap; then
seated himself cross-legged, lighted his pipe, and began to look very
comfortable indeed.
In the mean time there were not wanting many idle and curious people,
who having first at a distance observed the movements of the stranger,
approached him nearer and nearer. But he seemed to take little notice of
the crowd, and appeared absorbed in a sense of his own enjoyment, taking
long whiffs of his pipe, and looking as if he had made a considerable
progress towards the third heaven.
At length a respectable looking man, who had come up, drew nearer than
the rest, and asked him from whence he had travelled, and whither he was
going? What he was seeking in Shorapoor, and whether he was a merchant,
or merely came to look about him? But the questions ended in smoke,
being answered only by _whiffs_.
Then came another still bolder man, and said, ‘Sir, the heat is great;
be pleased to come with me to my house, and repose yourself there, and I
will give you a nice cool place in which you may sleep.’
Upon this the stranger drew his pipe from his mouth, and replied, ‘You
are extremely kind, good Sir, and I am really grateful to you for your
proffered hospitality; but the fact is, I don’t believe you would wish
to have me in your house, did you know what I really am!’
And thus saying, he rolled his eyes about, twisted up his moustachios,
stroked his beard, and assumed such a mysterious air, that an
indescribable terror seized the bystanders; so much so, that in falling
hastily back, some of them tumbled down, and others tumbled over them in
a very ridiculous manner.
‘He’s a thief,’ whispered one. ‘Or a Thug,’ said another. ‘Or an evil
spirit in the form of a man,’ observed a fourth. ‘At all events, doesn’t
he look like one who had _killed another_?’
In short the alarm became general, and several deemed it prudent, first
to sneak off, and then take to their heels. A few, however, of the
bolder spirits kept their ground; and seeing that the stranger did
nothing but take long whiffs from his pipe, sending the smoke peacefully
curling over his beard and moustachios out of both his nostrils, they
regained their confidence, and began to think that after all he might be
some important personage;—who could tell? So after a little pushing and
elbowing among themselves, a man was thrust forward, under an idea that
something might come of it; but no, the stranger appeared as unmoved as
ever.
Then another, who had screwed up his courage to that point, boldly
advanced, and thus spoke—
‘Do pray, Sir, tell us who upon earth you may be?’—No answer.
Then the man who had offered a sleeping place in his house chimed in,
and said, ‘Aye, Sir, do let us know who or what you may be? I assure you
we are none of us at all afraid of you!’ And with these words he twisted
up his moustachios, and tried to look as fierce and bold as possible,
while his knees were knocking together, and his heart fluttering all the
while. On a repetition of these questions, however, by both these men,
the stranger, with infinite gravity, took the pipe from his mouth, and
thus spoke:—
‘Are you not too much frightened to hear?’
The runaways, however, had departed, and those left behind seemed
determined not to follow them; more especially as the stranger had made
no sign as if he would draw his sword; neither did they think he looked
at all so horrible now. They therefore one and all called out, ‘No! we
are not a bit afraid, let us hear!’
‘Well then,’ exclaimed the stranger, taking a long puff at his pipe,
‘strange as it may appear to you all, my name is MISCHIEF-MAKER! And
what is very extraordinary, whatever I do, wherever I go, wherever I am,
I _always_ create mischief, I always _have_ created mischief, and shall
continue to do so to the very end of my life!’ And upon this he rolled
his eyes, and puffed away at his pipe harder than ever.
‘Oh, is this all,’ cried the party, ‘is this all?’
‘For the matter of _that_,’ said an active little man with twinkling
eyes, ‘you need be under no uneasiness whatever. I defy you to invent
more mischief here than we have already, for we are all more or less at
enmity with our neighbours; and as our fathers and grandfathers were the
same, we conclude it must be owing to something that can’t be changed;
for instance, the air or water of our town; so set your heart at rest,
and come along with us, and we’ll take care of you.’
‘Well,’ rejoined the stranger, ‘I am very glad indeed to hear what you
say of your own town; for to be candid with you, it’s exactly what I
heard of you all as I came along, and this made me think that in a place
where all were mischief-makers and busybodies already, I could have
nothing to do but (for once in my life) live in peace. However, don’t
trust me—that’s all I have to say—and if any evil arises from my visit,
turn me out, and I’ll seek a home elsewhere.’
An old Brahmin had come up in time to hear this avowal. ‘’Tis very
strange,’ said the wise man. ‘This fellow is surely a magician, and may
set all the rocks of Shorapoor dancing and tumbling about our ears, some
day. Turn him instantly away, or it may be the worse for us all.’
‘No, no,’ shouted the multitude. ‘That would be inhospitable. Let him
remain, and we shall soon see what he can do.’
The little active man now came forward again, and said slyly, ‘Sir, if
you really _are_ such a mischief-maker as you describe yourself to be,
suppose you were to give us a little specimen of your power,—just some
trifling matter to judge by.’
‘What, _now_?’ said the stranger.
‘Aye, _now_!’ exclaimed all; ‘and the sooner the better.’
‘Well, be it so,’ said he; ‘let me put up my things and come along!’ And
with this he arose, packed up, girded on his sword, and strode
majestically forward, followed by a crowd continually increasing as they
advanced further into the town.
‘Now don’t push or press upon me so much,’ said the stranger; ‘but
observe what I do, and watch the consequences.’ So they let him proceed,
and as he advanced, they soon perceived that he was forming some deep
plan, particularly as he paused every now and then, with his forefinger
between his teeth, and nodded, and wagged his head, as much as to say,
‘I have it!’ Upon which he made straight for a shop kept by a man who
sold flour and such like things, and accosting the dealer, inquired with
great civility, whether he had any _honey_? ‘That I have, Sir,’ replied
the shop-keeper, ‘plenty fresh from the comb; only taste it, and I’m
sure you’ll buy. Here, Sir; look at this beautiful jar, full of the
finest honey that was ever seen in Shorapoor.’
‘It looks well,’ replied the stranger, dipping his hand in; ‘and does
not taste amiss:’ saying which he gave his finger a careless kind of
shake; but he knew right well what he was about, as a little lump stuck
upon the outer wall.
‘It really _is_ good,’ said the Mischief-Maker. ‘Give me a small pot of
it, that I may take it home to my children.’
While the shop-keeper was filling a small new pot, over which he tied a
fresh green leaf, the people who had been following, came up, and said,
‘Sir, you are only making game of us; you are giving us no proof of what
you said. What mischief is there in buying a little pot of honey?’
‘Be quiet, my good people, and content yourselves for a couple of
minutes, while I get my change, and put my purchase in a safe place, and
you will soon see something—wait here, and I’ll be back to you
directly.’ The Mischief-Maker vanished in an instant!
Now it happened that this shop was a mere shed of a place, projecting
into the street, from the wall on which the honey had been thrown; nor
had the tempting bait been long there, before it was smelt out by a
large hungry fly, which had been spending many fruitless hours buzzing
about the dealer’s jar, so carefully was it always covered. Here was a
glorious opportunity for a fine supper, and down he came upon it with
eager appetite—without looking about him as he ought—for over his head,
under the cover of the wall, among old chinks and cobwebs, there dwelt a
wily, dust-coloured lizard, who enjoyed a fly beyond everything else in
the world, and had been particularly unsuccessful in fly-catching all
day. Watching, therefore, till the fly had buried his mining apparatus
pretty deep in the honey, he crept down quietly, looking as like a bit
of old plaster as possible, but for those bright eyes of his, which in
his eagerness for the capture, were intently fixed upon the fly. Unlucky
wight! Little did he think that those very eyes had attracted the
attention of a fine tabby cat, who but a few minutes before, with
blinking eyes, presented a perfect picture of contentment, but now
roused by a sudden temptation, was crouching stealthily down as she
beheld the lizard, for whom she had so often watched in vain. Down stole
the lizard—on stole the cat; so that here at the same moment were three
creatures so bent upon indulgence, that they never even thought of
looking about them! But were these three all the parties to be engaged?
Alas! no. There was a sworn enemy of the cat’s approaching also (under
cover of a large basket), in the shape of a mischievous white dog, kept
by a very quarrelsome man on the other side of the street. This dog was
the terror of all the cats in the neighbourhood, and most of all, of the
flour-dealer’s; so often had he chased her, and so often experienced the
bitter disappointment of seeing her climbing up the posts of the shop,
and then spitting at him from the top of the shed.
Infatuated lizard! Wretched fly! Betrayed pussy! _She_ heeded not the
sly creep of the dog, so intent was she upon the successful issue of her
spring upon the lizard. The fly was gorging himself with honey. He alone
partook not of the intense anxiety of the lizard, the cat, and the dog.
He partook only of—_honey_!
The crisis at length arrived. The lizard made its nimble pounce at the
fly. The cat sprang at the lizard. The lizard missed its footing in
consequence, and would have been the cat’s portion—fly, honey, and
all—but for the dog’s sudden attack upon puss. Here was a scene! The
lizard falling to the ground, was at once involved in the consequences
of the quarrel between the dog and cat. What were fly or honey to him at
the moment, when in a state between life and death he crept back sore
and wounded to his chinks and cobwebs! The fly might or might not have
escaped. Not so the cat, now sorely worried by the dog, in spite of all
her outcries and all she could do in the way of biting and clawing; for
it was an old score the dog was paying her off, and that might soon have
cost her her life, if her master had not rushed out of his shop with a
broomstick, with which he began to belabour the dog.
Now the owner of the dog had been as long at enmity with the man of
flour and honey, as the dog had been at enmity with the cat, and
probably longer. Of course, therefore, when he heard his animal’s cries,
and saw the punishment inflicting, he armed himself with a broomstick
also; and rushing across the street, gave the flour-dealer such a crack
upon his head, as knocked him down as flat as a pancake.
‘Take that you villain,’ said he, ‘for it’s a debt I’ve long owed you!’
‘Have you?’ said the flour-dealer’s son, as he rushed out with a cudgel
in his hand. ‘Then tell me how you like _that_’—giving him such a hearty
whack across the shoulders, that he was fain to drop his broomstick.
Yet the blow had hardly been given, before a friend of the dog’s master
ran up with a drawn sword, and would have made mincemeat of the
flour-dealer’s son, but for a soldier who cried out, ‘Shame, thou
coward, and son of a coward, who would attack a youth with only a stick
in his hand, and you armed with a sword! Shame on you! It’s just like
you rascally Hindoo fellows, who pretend to be soldiers, and are as much
like soldiers as that poor cat. Why don’t you try me?’
‘Why not?’ replied the man. ‘Do you think I’m afraid of such a bully as
you? Come on, you scoundrel, and I’ll show you what difference there is
between a cat and a Hindoo!’
Upon this the soldier drew his sword, and both began to cut at each
other in good earnest.
On this all the people cried out, ‘Murder! Murder!’ and a great many
soldiers running to the spot, were soon engaged, always attacking the
Hindoos, who were on the dog’s side, and the Hindoos the Mussulmans, who
were on the side of the cat; and wherever a Hindoo and a Mussulman were
fighting, the Hindoos aided the Hindoo, and the Mussulmans the
Mussulman; and the consequence was the death of many on each side, and
the wounding of most of the foolish quarrelsome people engaged.
Of course such a hubbub as this could not be continued long without its
being reported to the Rajah, who forthwith hastened from his palace with
his body-guard and some horsemen, and soon put a stop to this terrible
fray; and all the ringleaders were forthwith seized and tied together,
and marched off to prison, there to be kept closely confined till the
sad business should be fully enquired into, and the cause of so dreadful
a riot ascertained, and fixed upon the guilty.
All that night, therefore, were the magistrates and police-officers hard
at work listening to evidence, but they did not advance a single step in
the business; no, nor for several days after, notwithstanding the great
impatience of the Rajah, to whom they could only report from time to
time the hearing of nothing but the words, ‘Cat, Dog,’—‘Cat and
Dog,’—‘Dog and Cat,’—‘Dog’—‘Cat.’
A very similar feeling, also, was entertained by the lawyers who were
called in, and who, after intense application, declared themselves
doubtful, _very_ doubtful,—so much was advanced and really to be said
and supported by various precedents, both on the side of the cat and of
the dog, and, consequently, of the owner of the cat, as well as the
owner of the dog, and the partisans of the owners of the dog and
cat,—insomuch, that the whole city was split into most determined cat
and dog factions, and all strangers that entered the gates were
instantly absorbed in the dog and cat vortex, and whirled actually round
and round in this terrible fray, which every now and then broke out with
fresh fury, notwithstanding all the vigilance of the Rajah’s guards. And
yet even these valiant heroes were in some degree infected, giving sly
cuts at dog or cat men, just as they themselves inclined to support the
cat and dog question.
And so matters might have remained, either to the day of the final
depopulation of Shorapoor, or Doomsday itself, but for the wise old
Brahmin who had given such timely warning to turn out the stranger.
He had in reality been quietly chuckling a little, as many are wont to
do who have lived to see their prophecies first despised and then
fulfilled; but his heart relenting, he hastened to the palace, and
prostrating himself before the Rajah with hands joined together, he thus
spoke:—
‘May I be your sacrifice, O thou eater of mountains and drinker of
rivers! I have a petition to make in this matter of the cat and dog!’
‘It shall be heard,’ replied the Rajah. ‘Thou art a wise man; what dost
thou say?—dog—cat—dog and cat, or cat and dog? For my own part, I still
reserve my decision, though somewhat inclining to the opinion that the
cat caused all the mischief, and for this reason,—because if the dog had
not seen the cat, he very probably would not have chased her—“out of
sight out of mind” being one of our oldest as well as truest proverbs.’
‘Alas! that I should differ with your Highness—Brave Falcon, terrible in
War—the most valiant of the State—the Tiger of the Country,’ replied the
Prime Minister. ‘How could the cat help being worried by the dog?—and
did not nature give her a right to go where she pleased?’
So the whole Court took at once different sides, and matters might have
come to a serious explosion, even within the sacred walls of the palace
itself, but for the Brahmin, who again lifted up his voice and said:—
‘May it please your Highness! Let me declare to you that it was neither
the dog nor the cat that caused all this misery, but the _Fly_ and the
Honey!’
‘The fly and the honey! The fly and the honey!’ exclaimed the astonished
Rajah. ‘What honey, and what fly?’
And, as this was a perfectly new idea, the assembly listened with
profound attention while the holy man unfolded the true history of the
case. His having seen the stranger, and warned the people against him.
How accurately he had observed the drop of honey dabbed against the
wall. Then the approach of the fly, the sly gliding of the lizard, the
wily creeping of the cat, and the stealthy vindictive movements of the
dog—involving all these creatures in much pain and difficulty, and which
afterwards overspread the city.
‘Hold, learned man,’ cried the Rajah, ‘thou hast well said; my eyes are
opened!’ and he desired search to be made for the man who had too well
earned the title of Mischief-Maker. But he was no where to be either
found or heard of; and the poor flour-dealer, who stood among the
prisoners with a bandaged head, declared that the villain had not even
paid for the honey that had caused the whole tumult.
‘Well,’ exclaimed the Rajah, after a profound pause; ‘here now may most
plainly be seen a proof—if any such were required—that my subjects only
want a pretext, no matter what, to quarrel, and they are sure to go to
loggerheads.
‘I now throw no blame upon either the cat or the dog; for each animal
followed its own peculiar instinct. The blame and the punishment too,
must light upon the owners of the dog and cat for fighting, and thus
inducing others to espouse so ridiculous a quarrel.’
And forthwith he ordered all the principal rioters into confinement,
saying also to the rest of the people:—
‘Go home now, fools that ye are, and try whether you cannot make up your
minds to live at peace with one another. I cannot prevent your keeping
cats and dogs, because were I to do so, we should be devoured by vermin
or exposed to robbery. But this I tell you, you shall not turn
yourselves into cats and dogs for the future with impunity—DEPART!’ So
they all sneaked off; and the active little man whose head somebody had
broken, scratched it and said:—
‘Only think how well that strange fellow knew us all!’