第 三 章 · THE STORY OF CALIPH STORK

. THE STORY OF CALIPH STORK

I.

Caliph Chasid, of Bagdad, was resting comfortably on his divan one fine

afternoon. He was smoking a long pipe, and from time to time he sipped a

little coffee which a slave handed to him, and after each sip he stroked

his long beard with an air of enjoyment. In short, anyone could see that

the Caliph was in an excellent humour. This was, in fact, the best time

of day in which to approach him, for just now he was pretty sure to be

both affable and in good spirits, and for this reason the Grand Vizier

Mansor always chose this hour in which to pay his daily visit.

He arrived as usual this afternoon, but, contrary to his usual custom,

with an anxious face. The Caliph withdrew his pipe for a moment from his

lips and asked, ‘Why do you look so anxious, Grand Vizier?’

The Grand Vizier crossed his arms on his breast and bent low before his

master as he answered:

‘Oh, my Lord! whether my countenance be anxious or not I know not, but

down below, in the court of the palace, is a pedlar with such beautiful

things that I cannot help feeling annoyed at having so little money to

spare.’

The Caliph, who had wished for some time past to give his Grand Vizier a

present, ordered his black slave to bring the pedlar before him at once.

The slave soon returned, followed by the pedlar, a short stout man with

a swarthy face, and dressed in very ragged clothes. He carried a box

containing all manner of wares--strings of pearls, rings, richly

mounted pistols, goblets, and combs. The Caliph and his Vizier inspected

everything, and the Caliph chose some handsome pistols for himself and

Mansor, and a jewelled comb for the Vizier’s wife. Just as the pedlar

was about to close his box, the Caliph noticed a small drawer, and asked

if there was anything else in it for sale. The pedlar opened the drawer

and showed them a box containing a black powder, and a scroll written in

strange characters, which neither the Caliph nor the Mansor could read.

‘I got these two articles from a merchant who had picked them up in the

street at Mecca,’ said the pedlar. ‘I do not know what they may contain,

but as they are of no use to me, you are welcome to have them for a

trifle.’

The Caliph, who liked to have old manuscripts in his library, even

though he could not read them, purchased the scroll and the box, and

dismissed the pedlar. Then, being anxious to know what might be the

contents of the scroll, he asked the Vizier if he did not know of anyone

who might be able to decipher it.

‘Most gracious Lord and master,’ replied the Vizier, ‘near the great

Mosque lives a man called Selim the learned, who knows every language

under the sun. Send for him; it may be that he will be able to interpret

these mysterious characters.’

The learned Selim was summoned immediately.

‘Selim,’ said the Caliph, ‘I hear you are a scholar. Look well at this

scroll and see whether you can read it. If you can, I will give you

a robe of honour; but if you fail, I will order you to receive twelve

strokes on your cheeks, and five-and-twenty on the soles of your feet,

because you have been falsely called Selim the learned.’

Selim prostrated himself and said, ‘Be it according to your will, oh

master!’ Then he gazed long at the scroll. Suddenly he exclaimed: ‘May I

die, oh, my Lord, if this isn’t Latin!’

‘Well,’ said the Caliph, ‘if it is Latin, let us hear what it means.’

So Selim began to translate: ‘Thou who mayest find this, praise Allah

for his mercy. Whoever shall snuff the powder in this box, and at the

same time shall pronounce the word “Mutabor!” can transform himself into

any creature he likes, and will understand the language of all animals.

When he wishes to resume the human form, he has only to bow three times

towards the east, and to repeat the same word. Be careful, however,

when wearing the shape of some beast or bird, not to laugh, or thou wilt

certainly forget the magic word and remain an animal for ever.’

When Selim the learned had read this, the Caliph was delighted. He made

the wise man swear not to tell the matter to anyone, gave him a splendid

robe, and dismissed him. Then he said to his Vizier, ‘That’s what I call

a good bargain, Mansor. I am longing for the moment when I can become

some animal. To-morrow morning I shall expect you early; we will go into

the country, take some snuff from my box, and then hear what is being

said in air, earth, and water.’

II.

Next morning Caliph Chasid had barely finished dressing, and

breakfasting, when the Grand Vizier arrived, according to orders, to

accompany him in his expedition. The Caliph stuck the snuff-box in his

girdle, and, having desired his servants to remain at home, started off

with the Grand Vizier only in attendance. First they walked through the

palace gardens, but they looked in vain for some creature which could

tempt them to try their magic power. At length the Vizier suggested

going further on to a pond which lay beyond the town, and where he

had often seen a variety of creatures, especially storks, whose grave,

dignified appearance and constant chatter had often attracted his

attention.

The Caliph consented, and they went straight to the pond. As soon as

they arrived they remarked a stork strutting up and down with a stately

air, hunting for frogs, and now and then muttering something to itself.

At the same time they saw another stork far above in the sky flying

towards the same spot.

‘I would wager my beard, most gracious master,’ said the Grand Vizier,

‘that these two long legs will have a good chat together. How would it

be if we turned ourselves into storks?’

‘Well said,’ replied the Caliph; ‘but first let us remember carefully

how we are to become men once more. True! Bow three times towards the

east and say “Mutabor!” and I shall be Caliph and you my Grand Vizier

again. But for Heaven’s sake don’t laugh or we are lost!’

As the Caliph spoke he saw the second stork circling round his head and

gradually flying towards the earth. Quickly he drew the box from his

girdle, took a good pinch of the snuff, and offered one to Mansor, who

also took one, and both cried together ‘Mutabor!’

Instantly their legs shrivelled up and grew thin and red; their smart

yellow slippers turned to clumsy stork’s feet, their arms to wings;

their necks began to sprout from between their shoulders and grew a

yard long; their beards disappeared, and their bodies were covered with

feathers.

‘You’ve got a fine long bill, Sir Vizier,’ cried the Caliph, after

standing for some time lost in astonishment. ‘By the beard of the

Prophet I never saw such a thing in all my life!’

‘My very humble thanks,’ replied the Grand Vizier, as he bent his long

neck; ‘but, if I may venture to say so, your Highness is even handsomer

as a stork than as a Caliph. But come, if it so pleases you, let us go

near our comrades there and find out whether we really do understand the

language of storks.’

Meantime the second stork had reached the ground. It first scraped its

bill with its claw, stroked down its feathers, and then advanced towards

the first stork. The two newly made storks lost no time in drawing near,

and to their amazement overheard the following conversation:

‘Good morning, Dame Longlegs. You are out early this morning!’

‘Yes, indeed, dear Chatterbill! I am getting myself a morsel of

breakfast. May I offer you a joint of lizard or a frog’s thigh?’

‘A thousand thanks, but I have really no appetite this morning. I

am here for a very different purpose. I am to dance to-day before

my father’s guests, and I have come to the meadow for a little quiet

practice.’

Thereupon the young stork began to move about with the most wonderful

steps. The Caliph and Mansor looked on in surprise for some time; but

when at last she balanced herself in a picturesque attitude on one leg,

and flapped her wings gracefully up and down, they could hold out no

longer; a prolonged peal burst from each of their bills, and it was some

time before they could recover their composure. The Caliph was the first

to collect himself. ‘That was the best joke,’ said he, ‘I’ve ever seen.

It’s a pity the stupid creatures were scared away by our laughter, or no

doubt they would have sung next!’

Suddenly, however, the Vizier remembered how strictly they had been

warned not to laugh during their transformation. He at once communicated

his fears to the Caliph, who exclaimed, ‘By Mecca and Medina! it

would indeed prove but a poor joke if I had to remain a stork for the

remainder of my days! Do just try and remember the stupid word, it has

slipped my memory.’

‘We must bow three times eastwards and say “Mu...mu...mu...”’

They turned to the east and fell to bowing till their bills touched the

ground, but, oh horror--the magic word was quite forgotten, and

however often the Caliph bowed and however touchingly his Vizier cried

‘Mu...mu...’ they could not recall it, and the unhappy Chasid and Mansor

remained storks as they were.

III.

The two enchanted birds wandered sadly on through the meadows. In

their misery they could not think what to do next. They could not rid

themselves of their new forms; there was no use in returning to the town

and saying who they were; for who would believe a stork who announced

that he was a Caliph; and even if they did believe him, would the people

of Bagdad consent to let a stork rule over them?

So they lounged about for several days, supporting themselves on fruits,

which, however, they found some difficulty in eating with their long

bills. They did not much care to eat frogs or lizards. Their one comfort

in their sad plight was the power of flying, and accordingly they often

flew over the roofs of Bagdad to see what was going on there.

During the first few days they noticed signs of much disturbance and

distress in the streets, but about the fourth day, as they sat on the

roof of the palace, they perceived a splendid procession passing below

them along the street. Drums and trumpets sounded, a man in a scarlet

mantle, embroidered in gold, sat on a splendidly caparisoned horse

surrounded by richly dressed slaves; half Bagdad crowded after him, and

they all shouted, ‘Hail, Mirza, the Lord of Bagdad!’

The two storks on the palace roof looked at each other, and Caliph

Chasid said, ‘Can you guess now, Grand Vizier, why I have been

enchanted? This Mirza is the son of my deadly enemy, the mighty magician

Kaschnur, who in an evil moment vowed vengeance on me. Still I will not

despair! Come with me, my faithful friend; we will go to the grave of

the Prophet, and perhaps at that sacred spot the spell may be loosed.’

They rose from the palace roof, and spread their wings toward Medina.

But flying was not quite an easy matter, for the two storks had had but

little practice as yet.

‘Oh, my Lord!’ gasped the Vizier, after a couple of hours, ‘I can get

on no longer; you really fly too quick for me. Besides, it is nearly

evening, and we should do well to find some place in which to spend the

night.’

Chasid listened with favour to his servant’s suggestion, and perceiving

in the valley beneath them a ruin which seemed to promise shelter they

flew towards it. The building in which they proposed to pass the night

had apparently been formerly a castle. Some handsome pillars still stood

amongst the heaps of ruins, and several rooms, which yet remained in

fair preservation, gave evidence of former splendour. Chasid and his

companion wandered along the passages seeking a dry spot, when suddenly

Mansor stood still.

‘My Lord and master,’ he whispered, ‘if it were not absurd for a Grand

Vizier, and still more for a stork, to be afraid of ghosts, I should

feel quite nervous, for someone, or something close by me, has sighed

and moaned quite audibly.’

The Caliph stood still and distinctly heard a low weeping sound which

seemed to proceed from a human being rather than from any animal. Full

of curiosity he was about to rush towards the spot from whence the

sounds of woe came, when the Vizier caught him by the wing with his

bill, and implored him not to expose himself to fresh and unknown

dangers. The Caliph, however, under whose stork’s breast a brave heart

beat, tore himself away with the loss of a few feathers, and hurried

down a dark passage. He saw a door which stood ajar, and through which

he distinctly heard sighs, mingled with sobs. He pushed open the door

with his bill, but remained on the threshold, astonished at the sight

which met his eyes. On the floor of the ruined chamber--which was but

scantily lighted by a small barred window--sat a large screech owl. Big

tears rolled from its large round eyes, and in a hoarse voice it uttered

its complaints through its crooked beak. As soon as it saw the Caliph

and his Vizier--who had crept up meanwhile--it gave vent to a joyful

cry. It gently wiped the tears from its eyes with its spotted brown

wings, and to the great amazement of the two visitors, addressed them in

good human Arabic.

‘Welcome, ye storks! You are a good sign of my deliverance, for it was

foretold me that a piece of good fortune should befall me through a

stork.’

When the Caliph had recovered from his surprise, he drew up his feet

into a graceful position, bent his long neck, and said: ‘Oh, screech

owl! from your words I am led to believe that we see in you a companion

in misfortune. But, alas! your hope that you may attain your deliverance

through us is but a vain one. You will know our helplessness when you

have heard our story.’

The screech owl begged him to relate it, and the Caliph accordingly told

him what we already know.

IV.

When the Caliph had ended, the owl thanked him and said: ‘You hear my

story, and own that I am no less unfortunate than yourselves. My father

is the King of the Indies. I, his only daughter, am named Lusa.

That magician Kaschnur, who enchanted you, has been the cause of my

misfortunes too. He came one day to my father and demanded my hand for

his son Mirza. My father--who is rather hasty--ordered him to be thrown

downstairs. The wretch not long after managed to approach me under

another form, and one day, when I was in the garden, and asked for some

refreshment, he brought me--in the disguise of a slave--a draught which

changed me at once to this horrid shape. Whilst I was fainting with

terror he transported me here, and cried to me with his awful voice:

“There shall you remain, lonely and hideous, despised even by the

brutes, till the end of your days, or till some one of his own free will

asks you to be his wife. Thus do I avenge myself on you and your proud

father.”

‘Since then many months have passed away. Sad and lonely do I live like

any hermit within these walls, avoided by the world and a terror even

to animals; the beauties of nature are hidden from me, for I am blind by

day, and it is only when the moon sheds her pale light on this spot that

the veil falls from my eyes and I can see.’ The owl paused, and once

more wiped her eyes with her wing, for the recital of her woes had drawn

fresh tears from her.

The Caliph fell into deep thought on hearing this story of the Princess.

‘If I am not much mistaken,’ said he, ‘there is some mysterious

connection between our misfortunes, but how to find the key to the

riddle is the question.’

The owl answered: ‘Oh, my Lord! I too feel sure of this, for in my

earliest youth a wise woman foretold that a stork would bring me

some great happiness, and I think I could tell you how we might save

ourselves.’ The Caliph was much surprised, and asked her what she meant.

‘The Magician who has made us both miserable,’ said she, ‘comes once a

month to these ruins. Not far from this room is a large hall where he is

in the habit of feasting with his companions. I have often watched them.

They tell each other all about their evil deeds, and possibly the magic

word which you have forgotten may be mentioned.’

‘Oh, dearest Princess!’ exclaimed the Caliph, ‘say, when does he come,

and where is the hall?’

The owl paused a moment and then said: ‘Do not think me unkind, but I

can only grant your request on one condition.’

‘Speak, speak!’ cried Chasid; ‘command, I will gladly do whatever you

wish!’

‘Well,’ replied the owl, ‘you see I should like to be free too; but this

can only be if one of you will offer me his hand in marriage.’

The storks seemed rather taken aback by this suggestion, and the Caliph

beckoned to his Vizier to retire and consult with him.

When they were outside the door the Caliph said: ‘Grand Vizier, this is

a tiresome business. However, you can take her.’

‘Indeed!’ said the Vizier; ‘so that when I go home my wife may scratch

my eyes out! Besides, I am an old man, and your Highness is still young

and unmarried, and a far more suitable match for a young and lovely

Princess.’

‘That’s just where it is,’ sighed the Caliph, whose wings drooped in

a dejected manner; ‘how do you know she is young and lovely? I call it

buying a pig in a poke.’

They argued on for some time, but at length, when the Caliph saw plainly

that his Vizier would rather remain a stork to the end of his days than

marry the owl, he determined to fulfil the condition himself. The owl

was delighted. She owned that they could not have arrived at a better

time, as most probably the magicians would meet that very night.

She then proceeded to lead the two storks to the chamber. They passed

through a long dark passage till at length a bright ray of light shone

before them through the chinks of a half-ruined wall. When they reached

it the owl advised them to keep very quiet. Through the gap near which

they stood they could with ease survey the whole of the large hall. It

was adorned with splendid carved pillars; a number of coloured lamps

replaced the light of day. In the middle of the hall stood a round table

covered with a variety of dishes, and about the table was a divan on

which eight men were seated. In one of these bad men the two recognised

the pedlar who had sold the magic powder. The man next him begged him to

relate all his latest doings, and amongst them he told the story of the

Caliph and his Vizier.

‘And what kind of word did you give them?’ asked another old sorcerer.

‘A very difficult Latin word; it is “Mutabor.”’

V.

As soon as the storks heard this they were nearly beside themselves with

joy. They ran at such a pace to the door of the ruined castle that the

owl could scarcely keep up with them. When they reached it the Caliph

turned to the owl, and said with much feeling: ‘Deliverer of my friend

and myself, as a proof of my eternal gratitude, accept me as your

husband.’ Then he turned towards the east. Three times the storks bowed

their long necks to the sun, which was just rising over the mountains.

‘Mutabor!’ they both cried, and in an instant they were once more

transformed. In the rapture of their newly-given lives master and

servant fell laughing and weeping into each other’s arms. Who shall

describe their surprise when they at last turned round and beheld

standing before them a beautiful lady exquisitely dressed!

With a smile she held out her hand to the Caliph, and asked: ‘Do you not

recognise your screech owl?’

It was she! The Caliph was so enchanted by her grace and beauty, that he

declared being turned into a stork had been the best piece of luck

which had ever befallen him. The three set out at once for Bagdad.

Fortunately, the Caliph found not only the box with the magic powder,

but also his purse in his girdle; he was, therefore, able to buy in the

nearest village all they required for their journey, and so at last they

reached the gates of Bagdad.

Here the Caliph’s arrival created the greatest sensation. He had been

quite given up for dead, and the people were greatly rejoiced to see

their beloved ruler again.

Their rage with the usurper Mirza, however, was great in proportion.

They marched in force to the palace and took the old magician and

his son prisoners. The Caliph sent the magician to the room where the

Princess had lived as an owl, and there had him hanged. As the son,

however, knew nothing of his father’s acts, the Caliph gave him his

choice between death and a pinch of the magic snuff. When he chose the

latter, the Grand Vizier handed him the box. One good pinch, and the

magic word transformed him to a stork. The Caliph ordered him to be

confined in an iron cage, and placed in the palace gardens.

Caliph Chasid lived long and happily with his wife the Princess. His

merriest time was when the Grand Vizier visited him in the afternoon;

and when the Caliph was in particularly high spirits he would condescend

to mimic the Vizier’s appearance when he was a stork. He would strut

gravely, and with well-stiffened legs, up and down the room, chattering,

and showing how he had vainly bowed to the east and cried ‘Mu...Mu...’

The Caliphess and her children were always much entertained by this

performance; but when the Caliph went on nodding and bowing, and calling

‘Mu...mu...’ too long, the Vizier would threaten laughingly to tell the

Chaliphess the subject of the discussion carried on one night outside

the door of Princess Screech Owl.