Book II (The Winning of Friends) — The Mice that Set Elephants Free

There was once a region where people, houses, and temples had fallen into decay. So the mice, who were old settlers there, occupied the chinks in the floors of stately dwellings with sons, grandsons (both in the male and female line), and further descendants as they were born, until their holes formed a dense tangle. They found uncommon happiness in a variety of festivals, dramatic performances (with plots of their own invention), wedding-feasts, eating-parties, drinking-bouts, and similar diversions. And so the time passed.

But into this scene burst an elephant-king, whose retinue numbered thousands. He, with his herd, had started for the lake upon information that there was water there. As he marched through the mouse community, he crushed faces, eyes, heads, and necks of such mice as he encountered.

Then the survivors held a convention. “We are being killed,” they said, “by these lumbering elephants—curse them! If they come this way again, there will not be mice enough for seed. Besides:

An elephant will kill you, if

He touch; a serpent if he sniff; King’s laughter has a deadly sting; A rascal kills by honoring.

Therefore let us devise a remedy effective in this crisis.”

When they had done so, a certain number went to the lake, bowed before the elephant-king, and said respectfully: “O King, not far from here is our community, inherited from a long line of ancestors. There we have prospered through a long succession of sons and grandsons. Now you gentlemen, while coming here to water, have destroyed us by the thousand. Furthermore, if you travel that way again, there will not be enough of us for seed. If then you feel compassion toward us, pray travel another path. Consider the fact that even creatures of our size will some day prove of some service.”

And the elephant-king turned over in his mind what he had heard, decided that the statement of the mice was entirely logical, and granted their request.

Now in the course of time a certain king commanded his elephant- trappers to trap elephants. And they constructed a so-called water-trap, caught the king with his herd, three days later dragged him out with a great tackle made of ropes and things, and tied him to stout trees in that very bit of forest.

When the trappers had gone, the elephant-king reflected thus: “In what manner, or through whose assistance, shall I be delivered?” Then it occurred to him: “We have no means of deliverance except those mice.”

So the king sent the mice an exact description of his disastrous position in the trap through one of his personal retinue, an elephant-cow who had not ventured into the trap, and who had previous information of the mouse community.

When the mice learned the matter, they gathered by the thousand, eager to return the favor shown them, and visited the elephant herd. And seeing king and herd fettered, they gnawed the guy-ropes where they stood, then swarmed up the branches, and by cutting the ropes aloft, set their friends free.

“And that is why I say:

Make friends, make friends, however strong ... and the rest of it.”

When Slow had listened to this, he said: “Be it even so, my dear fellow. Have no fear. In this place you are at home. Pray dismiss anxieties and behave as in your own dwelling.” So they all took food and recreation at such hours as suited each, met at the noon hour in the shade of crowding trees beside the broad lake, and spent their time in reciprocated friendship, discussing a variety of masterly works on religion, economics, and similar subjects. And this seems quite natural:

For men of sense, good poetry And science will suffice:

The time of dunderheads is spent In squabbling, sleep, and vice.

And again:

A thrill

Will fill

The wisest heart, When flow

Bons mots Composed with art, Though fe-

Males be

Removed apart.

Now one day Spot failed to appear at the regular hour. And the others, missing him, alarmed also by an evil omen that appeared at that moment, drew the conclusion that he was in trouble, and could not keep up their spirits. Then Slow and Gold said to Swift: “Dear fellow, we two are prevented by locomotive limitations from hunting for our dear friend. We beg you, therefore, to hunt about and learn whether the poor fellow is eaten by a lion, or singed by forest fire, or fallen into the power of hunters and such creatures. There is a saying:

One quickly fears for loved ones who In pleasure-gardens play:

What, then, if they in forests grim And peril-bristling stay?

By all means go, search out precise news concerning Spot, and return quickly.”

On hearing this, Swift flew a little distance to the edge of a swamp, and finding Spot caught in a stout trap braced with pegs of acacia-wood, he

sorrowtully said: “My dear friend, how did you fall into this distress?” “My friend,” said Spot, “there is no time for delay. Listen to me.

When life is near an end, The presence of a friend Brings happiness, allying The living with the dying.

Oh, pardon any expressions of friendly impatience I may have used in our discussions. Likewise, say to Gold and Slow in my name:

If any ugly word

Was willy-nilly heard,

I pray you both, forgive— Let only friendship live.”

On hearing this, Swift replied: “Feel no fear, my dear fellow, while you have friends like us. I will return with all speed, bringing Gold to cut your bonds.”

Thereupon, with his heart in a flutter, he found Slow and Gold, explained the nature of Spot’s captivity, then returned to Spot, carrying Gold in his beak. Gold, for his part, on seeing the plight of his friend, sorrowfully said: “My dear fellow, you always had a wary mind and a shrewd eye. How, then, did you fall into this dreadful captivity?”

And Spot rejoined: “Why ask, my friend? Fate, you know, does what it will. As the saying goes:

What mortal flies (However wise) When billows rise To fatal size

On seas of woe?

In dead of night, Or broad daylight,

Grim fate may smite; Ah, who can fight An unseen foe?

You, my saintly friend, are familiar with the caprices of constraining destiny. Therefore be quick. Cut my bonds before the pitiless hunter comes.”

“Have no fear,” said Gold, “while I am at your side. In my heart, however, is great sorrow, which I beg you to remove by telling your story. You are guided by an eye of wisdom. How did you fall into this captivity?”

“Well,” said Spot, “if you insist on knowing, listen, and learn how I have been made captive a second time, having once before suffered the woes of Captivity.”

“Tell me,” said Gold, “how once before you suffered the woes of captivity. I am eager to learn the full detail.” And Spot told the story of

SPOT’S CAPTIVITY

Long ago, when I was six months old, I used to gambol in front of all the rest, as a youngster does. Out of sheer spirits I would run far ahead, then wait for the herd. Now we deer have two gaits, called the Jump-Up and the Straightaway. Of these I knew the Straightaway, but not the Jump-Up.

While amusing myself one day, I lost touch with the herd. At this I was dreadfully worried, gazed about the horizon to learn where they might be, and discovered them ahead. Now they had avoided a snare by means of the Jump-Up; they stood in a body ahead of me, and waited, all looking at me. But I, ignorant of the Jump-Up, was caught in the hunter’s snare.

While I was trying to drag it toward the herd, the hunter bound all my limbs and I fell to the ground, head foremost. And the herd of deer vanished, seeing no hope of saving me.

When the hunter came up, he did not put me to death, for pity softened his heart at the thought: “He is a fawn, fit only for a pet.” Instead, he carefully took me home and gave me as a plaything to a prince, who showed his delight at seeing me by giving the hunter a generous reward.

The prince treated me kindly, providing ointments, massage, baths, food, perfumes, and salves, while my meals were appropriate and palatable. But as I was passed from hand to hand by the curious women and princes at court, I was seriously inconvenienced by petting and scratching, which did not spare neck, eye, front hoof, hind hoof, or ear. Finally, one day in the rainy season, as the prince reclined on a couch, I observed the lightning, listened to the thunder, and, my heart wistful for my fondly remembered herd, I recited:

When shall I follow on the herd

Of coursing deer again?

When brace myself against the wind That whistles by? Ah, when?

“Who said that?” cried the prince, and looked about him, terrified. When he saw me, he thought: “No man said it, but a deer. It is a prodigy. I am undone,” and like one possessed by a devil, he tottered from the house, his garments in disarray.

Thinking himself ridden by a demon, he tempted the sorcerers and magicians with a great reward, saying: “If any free me from this torment, I will pay him no small honor.”

Meanwhile, overhasty individuals were striking me with sticks, bricks, and cudgels, but—further life being predestined—I was rescued by a certain holy man who said: “Why kill the poor beast?” Furthermore, he penetrated the cause of my malady, and respectfully said to the prince: “Dear sir, in the rainy season he wistfully remembered his native herd, and therefore recited:

When shall I follow on the herd Of coursing deer again?

When brace myself against the wind That whistles by? Ah, when?”

On hearing this, the prince was cured of his feverish malady, returned to his normal state, and said to his men: “Douse the poor deer’s head in plenty of water, and set him free in the forest he came from.” And they did so.

“Thus, though having suffered a previous captivity, I am caught again through constraining destiny.”

At this moment Slow joined them. For his heart was so full of love for his friend that he had followed, leaving grass, shrubs, and spear-grass crushed behind him. At sight of him, they were more distressed than ever, and Gold became their spokesman. “My dear fellow,” said he, “you have done wrong in leaving your fortress to come here, since you are not able to save yourself from the hunter, while on us he cannot lay hands. For when the bonds are cut and the hunter stands near, Spot will bound away and disappear, Swift will fly into a tree, while I, being a little fellow, will find some chink to slide into. But what will you do, when within his reach?”

To this Slow listened, but he said: “Oh, do not blame me, you of all people. For

The loss of love and loss of wealth Who could endure

But for restoratives of health

In friendship sure?

And again:

The days when meetings do not fail With wise and good

Are lovely clearings on the trail Through life’s wild wood.

The heart finds rest in telling things (When troubles toss)

To honest wife, or friend who clings, Or kindly boss.

Ah, my dear fellow,

The wistful glances wander, The wits, bewildered, ponder In good men separated, Whose love is unabated.

And more than that:

Better lose your life than friends; Life returns when this life ends, Not the sympathy that blends.”

At this moment the hunter arrived, bow and arrow in hand. Under his very eyes Gold cut the bonds and slipped into the before-mentioned chink. Swift flew into the air and was gone. Spot darted away.

Now when the hunter saw that the deer’s bonds had been cut, he was filled with amazement and said: “Under no circumstances do deer cut their own bonds. It was through fate that a deer has done it.” Then he spied a turtle on most improbable terrain, and with mixed feelings he said: “Even if the deer, with fate’s help, cut his bonds and escaped, still I’ve got this turtle. As the saying goes:

Nothing comes, of all that walks, All that flies to heaven,

All that courses o’er the earth,

If it be not given.”

After this meditation, the hunter cut spear-grass with his knife, wove a stout rope, tied the turtle’s feet tightly together, fastened the rope to his bow-tip, and started home. But when Gold saw his friend borne away, he sorrowtully said: “Ah, me! Ah, me!

No sooner sorrow’s ocean-shore

I reach in safety, than once more

A bitter sorrow is my lot: Misfortunes crowd the weakest spot.

Fresh blows are dreadful on a wound; Food fails, and hunger-pangs abound; Woes come, old enmities grow hot: Misfortunes crowd the weakest spot.

One walks at ease on level ground Till one begins to stumble;

Let stumbling start, and every step Is apt to bring a tumble.

And besides:

“Tis hard to find in life

A friend, a bow, a wife, Strong, supple to endure, In stock and sinew pure, In time of danger sure.

False friends are common. Yes, but where True nature links a friendly pair, The blessing is as rich as rare.

To bitter ends

You trust true friends, Not wife nor mother, Not son nor brother.

No long experience alloys

True friendship’s sweet and supple joys; No evil men can steal the treasure;

“Tis death, death only, sets a measure.

“Ah, what is this fate that smites me ceaselessly? First came the loss of property; then humiliations from my own people, the result of poverty; because of gloom thereat, exile; and now fate prepares for me the loss of a friend. As the proverb says:

In truth, I do not grieve though riches flee; Some lucky chance will bring them back to me: “Tis this that hurts me—lacking riches’ stay, The best of friends relax and fall away.

And again:

Fate’s artful linkage since my birth Of evil deeds and deeds of worth Pursues me on this present earth

Till states of mind that play and sway And change and range from day to day, Seem lives that strive and pass away.

Ah, there is only too much wisdom in this:

The body, born, is near its doom; And riches are the source of gloom; All meetings end in partings: yes, The world is all one brittleness.

“Ah, me! Ah, me! The loss of my friend is death to me. What care I even for my own people? As the saying goes:

A foe of woe and pain and fear,

A cup of trust and feelings dear,

A pearl—who made it? Who could blend Six letters in that name of friend?

Oh, friendly meetings!

O joy to which the righteous cling, Machine that answers love’s sole string, Pure happiness in every breath,

Cut short by one stern exile—Death!

And once again:

Pleasant riches; friendship’s course In familiar ruts;

Enmities of men of sense—

Death abruptly cuts.

And one last word:

If birth and death did not exist

Nor age nor fear of loved ones missed, If all were not so quick to perish, Whose life were not a thing to cherish?”

While Gold recited these grief-stricken sentences, Spot and Swift joined him and united their lamentations with his. And Gold said to them: “So long as our dear Slow is within sight, so long we have a chance to save him. Leave us, Spot. You must slip past the hunter unobserved, drop to earth somewhere near water, and pretend to be dead. Swift, you must spread your claws in the cagework of Spot’s horns, and pretend to peck out his eyes. Then that dreadful beast of a hunter, in the greedy belief that he has found a dead deer, will certainly wish to seize him, will throw the turtle on the ground, and hurry up. When his back is turned, I for my part will in a mere twinkling set Slow free to seek refuge in the water near by, his natural fortress. I myself will slide into a grass-clump. You, furthermore, must plan a second escape when the beast of a hunter is upon you.” So they put this plan into practice.

Now when the hunter saw a deer as good as dead beside the water, and noticed that a crow was pecking at him, he joyfully threw the turtle on the ground, and ran for a club. As soon as Spot could tell from the tramp of feet that the hunter was close upon him, with a supreme burst of speed he swept

into dense forest. Swift flew into a tree. The turtle, his fettering cord cut by Gold, scrambled to shelter in the water. Gold slipped into a grass-clump.

To the hunter it seemed a conjurer’s trick. “What does it mean?” he cried in his disappointment. Then he returned to the spot where he had left the turtle, and saw the cord cut in a hundred pieces no longer than a finger’s breadth. Then he perceived that the turtle had vanished like a magician, and anticipated danger for his own person. With troubled heart he made all speed out of the wood for home, casting anxious glances at the horizon.

Meanwhile the four friends, free of all injury, came together, expressed their mutual affection, took a new lease on life, and lived happily. And so

If beasts enjoy so great a prize Of friendship, why should wonder rise In men, who are so very wise?

Here ends Book II, called “The Winning of Friends.” The first verse runs:

The deer and turtle, mouse and crow

Had first-rate sense and learning; so, Though money failed and means were few, They quickly put their purpose through.