part06-第3章

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did；　had　not　words　to　communicate　it。　His　mental　endowments　were　the

peculiar　care　of　Eben　Bonabben；　who　sought　to　initiate　him　into　the

abstruse　lore　of　Egypt；　but　in　this　the　prince　made　little　progress；

and　it　was　soon　evident　that　he　had　no　turn　for　philosophy。

　　He　was；　however；　amazingly　ductile　for　a　youthful　prince；　ready　to

follow　any　advice；　and　always　guided　by　the　last　counsellor。　He

suppressed　his　yawns；　and　listened　patiently　to　the　long　and　learned

discourses　of　Eben　Bonabben；　from　which　he　imbibed　a　smattering　of

various　kinds　of　knowledge；　and　thus　happily　attained　his　twentieth

year；　a　miracle　of　princely　wisdom…　but　totally　ignorant　of　love。

　　About　this　time；　however；　a　change　came　over　the　conduct　of　the

prince。　He　completely　abandoned　his　studies；　and　took　to　strolling

about　the　gardens；　and　musing　by　the　side　of　the　fountains。　He　had

been　taught　a　little　music　among　his　various　accomplishments；　it　now

engrossed　a　great　part　of　his　time；　and　a　turn　for　poetry　became

apparent。　The　sage　Eben　Bonabben　took　the　alarm；　and　endeavored　to

work　these　idle　humors　out　of　him　by　a　severe　course　of　algebra；　but

the　prince　turned　from　it　with　distaste。　〃I　cannot　endure　algebra；〃

said　he；　〃it　is　an　abomination　to　me。　I　want　something　that　speaks

more　to　the　heart。〃

　　The　sage　Eben　Bonabben　shook　his　dry　head　at　the　words。　〃Here　is

an　end　to　philosophy；〃　thought　he。　〃The　prince　has　discovered　he　has　a

heart！〃　He　now　kept　anxious　watch　upon　his　pupil；　and　saw　that　the

latent　tenderness　of　his　nature　was　in　activity；　and　only　wanted　an

object。　He　wandered　about　the　gardens　of　the　Generalife　in　an

intoxication　of　feelings　of　which　he　knew　not　the　cause。　Sometimes

he　would　sit　plunged　in　a　delicious　reverie；　then　he　would　seize　his

lute；　and　draw　from　it　the　most　touching　notes；　and　then　throw　it

aside；　and　break　forth　into　sighs　and　ejaculations。

　　By　degrees　this　loving　disposition　began　to　extend　to　inanimate

objects；　he　had　his　favorite　flowers；　which　he　cherished　with　tender

assiduity；　then　he　became　attached　to　various　trees；　and　there　was　one

in　particular；　of　a　graceful　form　and　drooping　foliage；　on　which　he

lavished　his　amorous　devotion；　carving　his　name　on　its　bark；　hanging

garlands　on　its　branches；　and　singing　couplets　in　its　praise；　to　the

accompaniment　of　his　lute。

　　Eben　Bonabben　was　alarmed　at　this　excited　state　of　his　pupil。　He　saw

him　on　the　very　brink　of　forbidden　knowledge…　the　least　hint　might

reveal　to　him　the　fatal　secret。　Trembling　for　the　safety　of　the　prince

and　the　security　of　his　own　head；　he　hastened　to　draw　him　from　the

seductions　of　the　garden；　and　shut　him　up　in　the　highest　tower　of

the　Generalife。　It　contained　beautiful　apartments；　and　commanded　an

almost　boundless　prospect；　but　was　elevated　far　above　that

atmosphere　of　sweets　and　those　witching　bowers　so　dangerous　to　the

feelings　of　the　too　susceptible　Ahmed。

　　What　was　to　be　done；　however；　to　reconcile　him　to　this　restraint　and

to　beguile　the　tedious　hours？　He　had　exhausted　almost　all　kinds　of

agreeable　knowledge；　and　algebra　was　not　to　be　mentioned。

Fortunately　Eben　Bonabben　had　been　instructed；　when　in　Egypt；　in　the

language　of　birds；　by　a　Jewish　Rabbin；　who　had　received　it　in　lineal

transmission　from　Solomon　the　wise；　who　had　been　taught　it　by　the

queen　of　Sheba。　At　the　very　mention　of　such　a　study；　the　eyes　of　the

prince　sparkled　with　animation；　and　he　applied　himself　to　it　with　such

avidity；　that　he　soon　became　as　great　an　adept　as　his　master。

　　The　tower　of　the　Generalife　was　no　longer　a　solitude；　he　had

companions　at　hand　with　whom　he　could　converse。　The　first　acquaintance

he　formed　was　with　a　hawk；　who　built　his　nest　in　a　crevice　of　the

lofty　battlements；　whence　he　soared　far　and　wide　in　quest　of　prey。　The

prince；　however；　found　little　to　like　or　esteem　in　him。　He　was　a

mere　pirate　of　the　air；　swaggering　and　boastful；　whose　talk　was　all

about　rapine　and　carnage；　and　desperate　exploits。

　　His　next　acquaintance　was　an　owl；　a　mighty　wise　looking　bird；　with　a

huge　head　and　staring　eyes；　who　sat　blinking　and　goggling　all　day　in　a

hole　in　the　wall；　but　roamed　forth　at　night。　He　had　great

pretensions　to　wisdom；　talked　something　of　astrology　and　the　moon；　and

hinted　at　the　dark　sciences；　he　was　grievously　given　to　metaphysics；

and　the　prince　found　his　prosings　even　more　ponderous　than　those　of

the　sage　Eben　Bonabben。

　　Then　there　was　a　bat；　that　hung　all　day　by　his　heels　in　the　dark

corner　of　a　vault；　but　sallied　out　in　slipshod　style　at　twilight。

He；　however；　had　but　twilight　ideas　on　all　subjects；　derided　things　of

which　he　had　taken　but　an　imperfect　view；　and　seemed　to　take　delight

in　nothing。

　　Besides　these　there　was　a　swallow；　with　whom　the　prince　was　at　first

much　taken。　He　was　a　smart　talker；　but　restless；　bustling；　and　for

ever　on　the　wing；　seldom　remaining　long　enough　for　any　continued

conversation。　He　turned　out　in　the　end　to　be　a　mere　smatterer；　who　did

but　skim　over　the　surface　of　things；　pretending　to　know　every　thing；

but　knowing　nothing　thoroughly。

　　These　were　the　only　feathered　associates　with　whom　the　prince　had

any　opportunity　of　exercising　his　newly　acquired　language；　the　tower

was　too　high　for　any　other　birds　to　frequent　it。　He　soon　grew　weary　of

his　new　acquaintances；　whose　conversation　spoke　so　little　to　the　head；

and　nothing　to　the　heart；　and　gradually　relapsed　into　his

loneliness。　A　winter　passed　away；　spring　opened　with　all　its　bloom　and

verdure　and　breathing　sweetness；　and　the　happy　time　arrived　for

birds　to　pair　and　build　their　nests。　Suddenly；　as　it　were；　a　universal

burst　of　song　and　melody　broke　forth　from　the　groves　and　gardens　of

the　Generalife；　and　reached　the　prince　in　the　solitude　of　his　tower。

From　every　side　he　heard　the　same　universal　theme…　love…　love…　love

chanted　forth；　and　responded　to　in　every　variety　of　note　and　tone。　The

prince　listened　in　silence　and　perplexity。　〃What　can　be　this　love；〃

thought　he；　〃of　which　the　world　seems　so　full；　and　of　which　I　know

nothing？〃　He　applied　for　information　to　his　friend　the　hawk。　The

ruffian　bird　answered　in　a　tone　of　scorn：　〃You　must　apply；〃　said　he；

〃to　the　vulgar　peaceable　birds　of　earth；　who　are　made　for　the　prey

of　us　princes　of　the　air。　My　trade　is　war；　and　fighting　my　delight。

I　am　a　warrior；　and　know　nothing　of　this　thing　called　love。〃

　　The　prince　turned　from　him　with　disgust；　and　sought　the　owl　in　his

retreat。　〃This　is　a　bird；〃　said　he；　〃of　peaceful　habits；　and　may　be

able　to　solve　my　question。〃　So　he　asked　the　owl　to　tell　him　what　was

this　love　about　which　all　the　birds　in　the　groves　below　were　singing。

　　Upon　this；　the　owl　put　on　a　look　of　offended　dignity。　〃My　nights；〃

said　he；　〃are　taken　up　in　study　and　research；　and　my　days　in

ruminating　in　my　cell　upon　all　that　I　have　learnt。　As　to　these　singing

birds　of　whom　you　talk；　I　never　listen　to　them…　I　despise　them　and

their　themes。　Allah　be　praised；　I　cannot　sing；　I　am　a　philosopher；　and

know　nothing　of　this　thing　called　love。〃

　　The　prince　now　repaired　to　the　vault；　where　his　friend　the　bat　was

hanging　by　the　heels；　and　propounded　the　same　question。　The　bat

wrinkled　up　his　nose　into　a　most　snappish　expression。　〃Why　do　you

disturb　me　in　my　morning's　nap　with　such　an　idle　question？〃　said　he；

peevishly。　〃I　only　fly　by　twilight；　when　all　birds　are　asleep；　and

never　trouble　myself　with　their　concerns。　I　am　neither　bird　nor　beast；

and　I　thank　heaven　for　it。　I　have　found　out　the　villany　of　the　whole

of　them；　and　hate　them　one　and　all。　In　a　word；　I　am　a　misanthrope…　and

know　nothing　of　this　thing　called　love。〃

　　As　a　last　resort；　the　prince　now　sought　the　swallow；　and　stopped　him

just　as　he　was　circling　about　the　summit　of　the　tower。　The　swallow；　as

usual；　was　in　a　prodigious　hurry；　and　had　scarce　time　to　make　a　reply。

〃Upon　my　word；〃　said　he；　〃I　have　so　much　public　business　to　attend　to；

and　so　many　pursuits　to　follow；　that　I　have　had　no　time　to　think　on

the　subject。　I　have　every　day　a　thousand　visits　to　pay；　a　thousand

affairs　of　importance　to　examine　into；　that　leave　me　not　a　moment　of

leisure　for　these　little　sing…song　matters。　In　a　word；　I　am　a

citizen　of　the　world…　I　know　nothing　of　this　thing　called　love。〃　So

saying；　the　swallow　dived　into　the　valley；　and　was　out　of　sight　in　a

moment。

　　The　prince　remained　disappointed　and　perplexed；　but　with　his

curiosity　still　more　piqued　by　the　difficulty　of　gratifying　it。

While　in　this　mood；　his　ancient　guardian　entered　the　tower。　The　prince

advanced　eagerly　to　meet　him。　〃O　Eben　Bonabben；〃　cried　he；　〃thou

hast　revealed　to　me　much　of　the　wisdom　of　the　earth；　but　there　is

one　thing　of　which　I　remain　in　utter　ignorance；　and　would　fain　be

informed。〃

　　〃My　prince　has　but　to　make　the　inquiry；　and　every　thing　within　the

limited　range　of　his　servant's　intellect　is　at　his　command。〃

　　〃Tell　me　then；　O　most　profound　of　sages；　what　is　the　nature　of

this　thing　called　love？〃

　　Eben　Bonabben　was　struck　as　with　a　thunderbolt。　He　trembled　and

turned　pale；　and　felt　as　if　his　head　sat　but　loosely　on　his　shoulders。

　　〃What　could　suggest　such　a　question　to　my　prince…　where　could　he

have　learnt　so　idle　a　word？〃

　　The　prince　led　him　to　the　window　of　the　tower。　〃Listen；　O　Eben

Bonabben；〃　said　he。　The　sage　listened。　The　nightingale　sat　in　a

thicket　below　the　tower；　singing　to　his　paramour　the　rose；　from

every　blossomed　spray　and　tufted　grove　rose　a　strain　of　melody；　and

love…　love…　love…　was　still　the　unvarying　strain。

　　〃Allah　Akbar！　God　is　great！〃　exclaimed　the　wise　Bonabben。　〃Who　shall

pretend　to　keep　this　secret　from　the　heart　of　man；　when　even　the　birds

of　the　air　conspire　to　betray　it？〃

　　Then　turning　to　Ahmed…　〃O　my　prince；〃　cried　he；　〃shut　thine　ears

to　these　seductive　strains。　Close　thy　mind　against　this　dangerous

knowledge。　Know　that　this　love　is　the　cause　of　half　the　ills　of

wretched　mortality。　It　is　this　which　produces　bitterness　and　strife

between　brethren　and　friends；　which　causes　treacherous　murder　and

desolating　war。　Care　and　sorrow；　weary　days　and　sleepless　nights；

are　its　attendants。　It　withers　the　bloom　and　blights　the　joys　of

youth；　and　brings　on　the　ills　and　griefs　of　premature　old　age。　Allah

preserve　thee；　my　prince；　in　total　ignorance　of　this　thing　called

love！〃

　　The　sage　Eben　Bonabben　hastily　retired；　leaving　the　prince　plunged

in　still　deeper　perplexity。　It　was　in　vain　he　attempted　to　dismiss　the

subject　from　his　mind；　it　still　continued　uppermost　in　his　thoughts；

and　teased　and　exhausted　him　with　vain　conjectures。　Surely；　said　he　to

himself；　as　he　listened　to　the　tuneful　strains　of　the　birds；　there

is　no　sorrow　in　those　notes；　every　thing　seems　tenderness　and　joy。

If　love　be　a　cause　of　such　wretchedness　and　strife；　why　are　not

these　birds　drooping　in　solitude；　or　tearing　each　other　in　pieces；

instead　of　fluttering　cheerfully　about　the　groves；　or　sporting　with

each　other　among　flow