One Thousand and One Nights, page 127
The prince, while he spoke, observed that the dervish changed countenance, held down his eyes, looked very serious, and instead of making any reply, remained silent; which obliged him to say to him again, “Good father, I fancy you heard me; tell me whether you know what I ask you, that I may not lose my time, but inform myself somewhere else.”
At last the dervish broke silence. “Sir,” said he to prince Bahman, “I know the way you ask of me; but the regard which I conceived for you the first moment I saw you, and which is grown stronger by the service you have done me, kept me in suspense, whether I should give you the satisfaction you desire.” “What motive can hinder you?” replied the prince; “and what difficulties do you find in so doing?” “I will tell you,” replied the dervish; “the danger you are going to expose yourself to is greater than you may suppose. A number of gentlemen of as much bravery and courage as you can possibly possess have passed this way, and asked me the same question. When I had used all my endeavours to persuade them to desist, they would not believe me; at last, I yielded, to their importunities; I was compelled to shew them the way, and I can assure you they have all perished, for I have not seen one come back. Therefore, if you have any regard for your life, take my advice, go no farther, but return home.”
Prince Bahman persisted in his resolution. “I will not suppose,” said he to the dervish, “but that your advice is sincere. I am obliged to you for the friendship you express for me; but whatever may be the danger, nothing shall make me change my intention: whoever attacks me, I am well armed, and can say I am as brave as any one.” “But they who will attack you are not to be seen,” replied the dervish; “how will you defend yourself against invisible persons?” “It is no matter,” answered the prince; “all you say shall not persuade me to do any thing contrary to my duty. Since you know the way, I conjure you once more to inform me.”
When the dervish found he could not prevail upon prince Bahman, and that he was obstinately bent to pursue his journey notwithstanding his friendly remonstrance, he put his hand into a bag that lay by him and pulled out a bowl, which he presented to him. “Since I cannot prevail on you to attend to my advice,” said he, “take this bowl; when you are on horseback throw it before you, and follow it to the foot of a mountain, where it will stop. As soon as the bowl stops, alight, leave your horse with the bridle over his neck, and he will stand in the same place till you return. As you ascend you will see on your right and left a great number of large black stones, and will hear on all sides a confusion of voices, which will utter a thousand injurious abuses to discourage you, and prevent your reaching the summit of the mountain. Be not afraid; but above all things, do not turn your head to look behind you; for in that instant you will be changed into such a black stone as those you see, which are all youths who have failed in this enterprise. If you escape the danger of which I give you but a faint idea, and get to the top of the mountain, you will see a cage, and in that cage is the bird you seek; ask him which are the singing tree and the yellow water, and he will tell you. I have nothing more to say; this is what you have to do, and the danger you have to avoid; but if you are prudent, you will take my advice, and not expose your life. Consider once more while you have time that the difficulty is almost insuperable.”
“I am obliged to you for your repeated advice,” replied prince Bahman, after he had received the bowl, “but cannot follow it. However, I will endeavour to conform myself to that part of it which bids me not look behind me as I shall ascend the mountain, and I hope to come and see you again soon, and thank you when I have obtained what I am seeking.” After these words, to which the dervish made no other answer than that he should be overjoyed to see him again, the prince mounted his horse, took his leave of the dervish with a respectful salute, and threw the bowl before him.
The bowl rolled away unceasingly with as much swiftness as when prince Bahman first hurled it from his hand, which obliged him to put his horse to the same pace to avoid losing sight of it, and when it had reached the foot of the mountain it stopped. The prince alighted from his horse, laid the bridle on his neck; and having first surveyed the mountain, and seen the black stones, began to ascend; but had not gone four steps, before he heard the voices mentioned by the dervish, though he could see nobody. Some said, “Where is that fool going? where is he going? what would he have? do not let him pass.” Others, “Stop him, catch him, kill him;” and others with a voice like thunder, “Thief! assassin! murderer!” while some in a gibing tone cried, “No, no, do not hurt him; let the pretty fellow pass, the cage and bird are kept for him.”
Notwithstanding all these troublesome voices, prince Bahman ascended with courage and resolution for some time, but the voices redoubled with so loud a din near him, both behind and before, that at last he was seized with dread, his legs trembled under him, he staggered, and finding that his strength failed him, he forgot the dervish’s advice, turned about to run down the hill, and was that instant changed into a black stone; a metamorphosis which had happened to many before him, who had attempted the ascent. His horse likewise underwent the same change.
From the time of prince Bahman’s departure, the princess Perie-zadeh always wore the knife and sheath in her girdle, and pulled it out several times in a day, to know whether her brother was alive. She had the consolation to understand he was in perfect health, and to talk of him frequently with prince Perviz, who sometimes prevented her by asking her what news.
On the fatal day that prince Bahman was transformed into a stone, as prince Perviz and the princess were talking together in the evening, as usual, the prince desired his sister to pull out the knife to know how their brother did. The princess readily complied, and seeing the blood run down the point was seized with so much horror that she threw it down. “Ah! my dear brother,” cried she, “I have been the cause of your death, and shall never see you more! Why did I tell you of the speaking bird, singing tree, and yellow water; or rather, of what importance was it to me to know whether the devout woman thought this house ugly or handsome, or complete or not? I wish to Heaven she had never addressed herself to me? Deceitful hypocrite!” added she, “is this the return you have made for the kind reception I gave you? Why did you tell me of a bird, a tree, and a water, which, imaginary as I am persuaded they are, by my dear brother’s death, yet disturb me by your enchantment?”
Prince Perviz was as much afflicted at the death of prince Bahman as the princess; but not to waste time in needless regret, as he knew that she still passionately desired possession of the speaking bird, the singing tree, and the golden water, he interrupted her, saying, “Sister, our regret for our brother is vain and useless; our grief and lamentations cannot restore him to life; it is the will of God, we must submit to it, and adore the decrees of the Almighty without searching into them. Why should you now doubt of the truth of what the holy woman told you? do you think she spoke to you of three things that were not in being? and that she invented them on purpose to deceive you, who had given her no cause to do so, but received her with so much goodness and civility? Let us rather believe that our brother’s death is owing to some error on his part, or some accident which we cannot conceive. It ought not therefore to prevent us from pursuing our object. I offered to go this journey, and am now more resolved than ever; his example has no effect upon my resolution; to-morrow I will depart.”
The princess did all she could to dissuade prince Perviz, conjuring him not to expose her to the danger of losing two brothers; but he was obstinate, and all the remonstrances she could urge had no effect upon him. Before he went, that she might know what success he had, he left her a string of a hundred pearls, telling her, that if they would not run when she should count them upon the string, but remain fixed, that would be a certain sign he had undergone the same fate as his brother; but at the same time told her he hoped it would never happen, but that he should have the happiness to see her again to their mutual satisfaction.
Prince Perviz, on the twentieth day after his departure, met the same dervish in the same place as his brother Bahman had done before him. He went directly up to him, and after he had saluted, asked him, if he could tell him where to find the speaking bird, the singing tree, and the golden water? The dervish urged the same difficulties and remonstrances as he had done to prince Bahman, telling him, that a young gentleman, who very much resembled him, was with him a short time before; that, overcome by his importunity and pressing instances, he had shewn him the way, given him a guide, and told him how he should act to succeed; but that he had not seen him since, and doubted not but he had shared the same fate as all other adventurers.
“Good dervish,” answered prince Perviz, “I know whom you speak of; he was my elder brother, and I am informed of the certainty of his death, but know not the cause.” “I can tell you,” replied the dervise; “he was changed into a black stone, as all I speak of have been; and you must expect the same transformation, unless you observe more exactly than he has done the advice I gave him, in case you persist in your resolution, which I once more entreat you to renounce.”
“Dervish,” said prince Perviz, “I cannot sufficiently express how much I am obliged for the concern you take in my life, who am a stranger to you, and have done nothing to deserve your kindness: but I thoroughly considered this enterprise before I undertook it, and I cannot now relinquish it: therefore I beg of you to do me the same favour you have done my brother. Perhaps I may have better success in following your directions.” “Since I cannot prevail with you,” said the dervish, “to give up your obstinate resolution, if my age did not prevent me, and I could stand, I would get up to reach you a bowl I have here, which will shew you the way.”
Without giving the dervish time to say more, the prince alighted from his horse and went to the dervish, who had taken a bowl out of his bag, in which he had a great many, and gave it him, with the same directions he had given prince Bahman; and after warning him not to be discouraged by the voices he should hear without seeing any body, however threatening they might be, but to continue his way up the hill till he saw the cage and bird, he let him depart.
Prince Perviz thanked the dervish, and when he had remounted, and taken leave, threw the bowl before his horse, and spurring him at the same time, followed it. When the bowl came to the bottom of the hill it stopped, the prince alighted, and stood some time to recollect the dervish’s directions. He encouraged himself, and began to walk up with a resolution to reach the summit; but before he had gone above six steps, he heard a voice, which seemed to be near, as of a man behind him, say in an insulting tone, “Stay, rash youth, that I may punish you for your presumption.”
Upon this affront the prince, forgetting the dervish’s advice, clapped his hand upon his sword, drew it, and turned about to revenge himself; but had scarcely time to see that nobody followed him before he and his horse were changed into black stones.
In the mean time the princess Perie-zadeh, several times a day after her brother’s departure, counted her chaplet. She did not omit it at night, but when she went to bed put it about her neck; and in the morning when she awoke counted over the pearls again to see if they would slide.
The day that prince Perviz was transformed into a stone, she was counting over the pearls as she used to do, when all at once they became immoveably fixed, a certain token that the prince her brother was dead. As she had determined what to do in case it should so happen, she lost no time in outward demonstrations of grief, which she concealed as much as possible; but having disguised herself in man’s apparel, armed and equipped, she mounted her horse the next morning, having told her servants she should return in two or three days, and took the same road her brothers had done.
The princess, who had been used to ride on horseback in hunting, supported the fatigue of so long a journey better than most ladies could have done; and as she made the same stages as her brothers, she also met with the dervish on the twentieth day. When she came near him, she alighted off her horse, leading him by the bridle, went and sat down by the dervish, and after she had saluted him, said, “Good dervish, give me leave to rest myself; and do me the favour to tell me if you have not heard that there are somewhere in this neighbourhood a speaking bird, a singing tree, and golden water.”
“Princess,” answered the dervish, “for so I must call you, since by your voice I know you to be a woman disguised in man’s apparel, I thank you for your compliment, and receive the honour you do me with great pleasure. I know the place well where these things are to be found: but what makes you ask me this question?”
“Good dervish,” replied the princess, “I have had such a flattering relation of them given me, that I have a great desire to possess them.” “Madam,” replied the dervish, “you have been told the truth. These curiosities are more singular and surprising than they have been represented to you: but you have not been made acquainted with the difficulties which must be surmounted in order to obtain them. If you had been fully informed of these, you would not have undertaken so troublesome and dangerous an enterprise. Take my advice, go no farther, return, and do not urge me to contribute towards your ruin.”
“Good father,” said the princess, “I have travelled a great way, and should be sorry to return without executing my design. You talk of difficulties, and danger of life; but you do not tell me what those difficulties are, and wherein the danger consists. This is what I desire to know, that I may consider and judge whether I can trust my courage and strength to brave them.”
The dervish repeated to the princess what he had said to the princes Bahman and Perviz, exaggerating the difficulties of climbing up to the top of the mountain, where she was to make herself mistress of the bird, which would inform her of the singing tree and golden water. He magnified the noise and din of the terrible threatening voices which she would hear on all sides of her, without seeing any body, and the great number of black stones, alone sufficient to strike terror. He entreated her to reflect that those stones were so many brave gentlemen, so metamorphosed for having omitted to observe the principal condition of success in the perilous undertaking, which was not to look behind them before they had got possession of the cage.
When the dervish had done, the princess replied, “By what I comprehend from your discourse, the difficulties of succeeding in this affair are, first, the getting up to the cage without being frightened at the terrible din of voices I shall hear; and secondly, not to look behind me: for this last, I hope I shall be mistress enough of myself to observe it. As to the first, I own that those voices, such as you represent them to be, are capable of striking terror into the most undaunted; but as in all enterprises and dangers every one may use stratagem, I desire to know of you if I may use any in one of so great importance.” “And what stratagem is it you would employ?” said the dervish. “To stop my ears with cotton,” answered the princess, “that the voices, however loud and terrible, may make the less impression upon my imagination, and my mind remain free from that disturbance which might cause me to lose the use of my reason.”
“Princess,” replied the dervish, “of all the persons who have addressed themselves to me for information, I do not know that ever one made use of the contrivance you propose. All I know is, that they all perished. If you persist in your design, you may make the experiment. You will be fortunate if it succeeds; but I would advise you not to expose yourself to the danger.”
“My good father,” replied the princess, “nothing can hinder my persisting in my design. I am sure my precaution will succeed, and am resolved to try the experiment. Nothing remains for me but to know which way I must go; I conjure you not to deny me the favour of that information.” The dervish exhorted her again, for the last time, to consider well what she was going to do; but finding her resolute, he took out a bowl, and presenting it to her, said, “Take this bowl; mount your horse again, and when you have thrown it before you, follow it through all its windings, till it stops at the bottom of the mountain, there alight, and ascend the hill. Go; you know the rest.”
After the princess had thanked the dervish, and taken her leave of him, she mounted her horse, threw the bowl before her, and followed it till it stopped at the foot of the mountain.
The princess alighted, stopped her ears with cotton; and after she had well examined the path leading to the summit, began with a moderate pace, and walked up with intrepidity. She heard the voices, and perceived the great service the cotton was to her. The higher she went, the louder and more numerous the voices seemed; but they were not capable of making any impression upon her. She heard a great many affronting speeches and raillery very disagreeable to a woman, which she only laughed at. “I mind not,” said she to herself, “all that can be said, were it worse; I only laugh at them, and shall pursue my way.” At last she got so high, that she could perceive the cage and the bird, which endeavoured, with the voices, to frighten her, crying in a thundering tone, notwithstanding the smallness of its size, “Retire, fool, and approach no nearer.”
The princess, encouraged by this object, redoubled her speed, and by effort gained the summit of the mountain, where the ground was level; then running directly to the cage, and clapping her hand upon it, cried, “Bird, I have you, and you shall not escape me.”
While Perie-zadeh was pulling the cotton out of her ears, the bird said to her, “Heroic princess, be not angry with me for joining with those who exerted themselves to preserve my liberty. Though in a cage, I was content with my condition; but since I am destined to be a slave, I would rather be yours than any other person’s, since you have obtained me so courageously. From this instant, I swear inviolable fidelity, and an entire submission to all your commands. I know who you are; you do not: but the time will come when I shall do you essential service, which I hope you will think yourself obliged to me for. As a proof of my sincerity, tell me what you desire, and I am ready to obey you.”
