THE MANSION OF HAPPINESS
David had not gone far on his way when the Voice spoke to him again. He
had quite forgotten it during the time he worked at the Cobbler’s
cottage, for the old couple had kept him so busy that he had had no time
to think of anything but his work.
“What is up now?” asked the Voice. “Where are we going?”
“_There_,” answered David, “after the Blue Bird. Did I not tell you the
colour on its wings would be more beautiful in this light than ever
before? Is it not so? Were they ever more brilliant or more iridescent?”
With David’s renewed ability to see the Blue Bird, all the memory of
the past returned to him so clearly that it seemed but yesterday that he
had entered the little door in the tree trunk.
“Why leave the cobbler and his wife and Ruth?” asked the Voice. “I liked
it there and found myself very comfortable and well cared for, even if
they did work us rather hard at times. I should have liked to remain
there all the days of my life.--I don’t care for this business of
chasing the Blue Bird,” he added sulkily.
“That is because you do not understand,” said David. “Your duty is to
obey and do as I tell you, not to grumble and find fault with every
little hardship! There is a goal that I am aiming for, and the Blue Bird
is leading me there; so I must and will follow it.”
The Voice grumbled a bit more, but David paid no attention to it, for
his mind was filled with more interesting thoughts. He had rested under
a tree as night approached, and the Blue Bird had sought shelter in the
thick foliage of the same tree. The Voice had taken this opportunity to
speak to him again.
David was now in the Forest Beyond the Woodlands, you perceive, for he
had stepped into this country when he passed through the little door
that led from the other side of the great tree. In this land things
happen otherwise than in our land; or, if they do not actually happen
otherwise, it _seems_ so to those who live there, for everyone there is
able to understand the inside of a thing as well as the outside. If you
are able to understand only the outside of a thing, you will, more times
than a few, entirely misunderstand the whole thing; but if you can
understand the inside, it is not in the least necessary to bother much
about the outside, for that will take care of itself. Everything that
has an outside has been made for the sake of the inside that it
contains; and as everything has two sides, of course, you understand
that there must be an _in_side as well as an _out_side. It is a very
good thing to be able to see the inside of a thing and to look for it
more carefully than you look for the outside; and if you learn really to
see it, you will have more than a few surprises in your life, through
finding that you are able to see both sides at once.
David now found himself able to understand the song of the Blue Bird as
he had never understood it before; for he could now perceive the inside
of things as well as the outside. He was much surprised when he realized
that, instead of its being just a bird’s song as he had always
supposed, each note meant certain definite ideas and thoughts which the
Blue Bird was expressing. For this reason the song was never twice
exactly alike. David had never noticed this before: the song had always
seemed to him just the same clear, sweet musical ripple, repeating
itself over and over. Now he began to detect the several notes and how
varied they were in accent and arrangement; and he learned that it was
within this variety of accent and arrangement that the sense of the song
was to be found. Then, little by little, David caught the inner meanings
of the different symbols of sound; so that, from now on, every time the
Blue Bird sang, its song conveyed a special message to David’s heart and
mind.
He had followed the Bird for some time--just how long, he did not
know--when presently he came upon a tiny green rose-covered cottage.
The Bird flew to the vine over the doorway and began to sing as if its
tiny throat would burst.
“Knock on the door, knock on the door!
Here lives the good woman you once met before.”
David walked up to the door and knocked fearlessly. In a moment it
opened; and there before him stood the dear little white-haired old
woman whom he had met in the woods.
“David!” she cried in delight. “David! why, is it really you? Have you
come at last? I have been looking for you this long time. So you did see
the Blue Bird after all, and you did follow it. I know that you followed
it; else you never could have found your way here. One never reaches
this house in any other way, for this, you know, is the Mansion of
Happiness. Come in,” she added. “You are welcome!”
“Is this really the Mansion of Happiness?” asked David. “I have heard of
it before: we used to play a game called ‘The Mansion of Happiness.’ But
I never knew there was a real place of that name.”
“Yes, there is a real place of that name, David, and this is it.”
“Well,” said David, “then I should like to spend the rest of my life
right here.”
“No, you wouldn’t, either,” said the old woman. She spoke so abruptly
that she almost startled David.
“Why not?” said he.
“Because you would tire of it.”
“Why?”
“Because you are a living Soul,” said the old woman, “and a living Soul
always tires of a thing in time.”
“Why?” asked David.
“Because if it didn’t, and were perfectly satisfied, it would know no
progress. It is dissatisfaction caused by growing tired of a thing, or
the growing tired of a thing causing dissatisfaction, that makes one
desire and seek something else. It is this desire and seeking that is
the root of all progress.” David found it hard to understand her very
well; her words seemed strange to him. So he just said, “Why?”
“Because you are a living Soul, David; never forget that. It is worth
remembering, and it will help you to understand many strange things.”
David looked at her in silent wonder. It seemed to him as if there were
a beautiful golden light about her, and he felt a gentle peace that
reminded him of his own Mother.
“I should like to stay here with you,” he said.
“You may,” she answered, “until you are tired of it.”
So David remained.
If we tried to measure in days and nights as we count them, it would
take very many before we had enough to cover the time that David
remained there; but he was in such a happy state of mind that there
seemed to him to be no time at all. This is the way it is with us all
when we are truly very happy.
One day David began to grow restless. He had strapped about his waist
the case that contained his hunting-knife, and had taken out the knife
and was feeling of the blade. He stooped over to sharpen it on the sole
of his shoe. As he did so, the little leathern pocket of the case flew
open. Something fell from it. He leaned down and picked it up--a spray
of tiny forget-me-nots, dried and almost colourless.
“Ruth!” he cried, almost as if he expected her really to hear him.
“Ruth, where are you? I have been away from you so long! How have you
been all this long time? Where are you? Are you still at the Cobbler’s
cottage?”
There was no answer save the song of a distant bird, which broke on the
peaceful air unheeded, for David was deep in thought. From this time on,
he grew more and more restless. The old Woman noticed it and smiled
quietly to herself, but she said nothing, for she wished David to speak
first.
“Mother,” he said one day--for he had learned to call her that--“Mother,
I can’t stay here any longer: I must go on! I want to find the Tree in
the midst of the Garden. That is what I started out to find. I thought
the Blue Bird would have taken me there, but he has not, after all.”
“Did you follow him?” asked the old Woman gently.
“Yes,” said David.
“How long did you follow him?” she asked.
“Till he led me here.”
“Then what happened?”
“Why, then--I--forgot--about him,” said David thoughtfully.
“Yes,” said the old Woman, “it is just so. But you should never forget
about him, David; else how can he guide you?”
“True,” said David. “I am truly sorry!”
“Don’t be sorry, since you have remembered him again. David, many older
men than you have forgotten to follow the Blue Bird; many have never
even followed him long enough to see as much as the outside of my
dwelling house, let alone ever daring to knock on the door.”
“What has happened to them?” asked David.
“Some of them are wandering about in the Forest, lost; some have
returned to their own homes and forgotten the Tree, the Garden, and the
Blue Bird. Others have fallen into a deep sleep and are merely existing,
not really _living_ at all. These last will only waken when Sister
Experience comes upon them and gives them a good shaking to wake them
up; she is always looking for those who are asleep and need to be
wakened. Why do you wish to find the Tree?” she added questioningly.
“Because I know that it must be very beautiful and its fruit very
delicious,” said David. “I want to find the way so that I can guide Ruth
there; I want her to see it and to have some of its fruit. For I want
her to have the very best that there is.”
“Well,” said the old Woman, “you are on the right path, and as long as
you remember Ruth and seek for her sake, you need not fear
forgetfulness. But you must remember to follow the Blue Bird on past the
Red Castle where the Bronze King dwells and the brown Lions guard the
way. Then you must go on over the Burning Mountain, for it is on the
other side of it that the Garden lies. If you can capture the
Pale-Coloured Wingèd Horse, he will help you--but it is almost
impossible to capture _him_.”
David’s eyes shone with a new light as the old Woman spoke.
“I will go!” he cried earnestly. “The next time I hear the Blue Bird
sing, I will find and follow him!”
The next night the moon shone brightly. David had just crawled into bed.
He was tired, and the clean white sheets looked and felt very good to
him. But just as he was about to close his eyes he heard the Blue Bird’s
song. He sprang up, dressed hurriedly, strapped on his hunting-knife,
and swung his axe over his shoulder.
Before he left the room, though, he wrote a few words on a bit of paper.
This he pinned on his pillow. In the morning the old Woman found this
message:
“The Blue Bird has called me; I am off to follow its trail. I can never
forget your kindness or your home. Thank you always.
“David.”
[Illustration:
THE NEXT NIGHT THE MOON SHONE
BRIGHTLY. DAVID HAD JUST
CRAWLED INTO BED]