little by little getting better, and soon he is again traipsing around
the low-down inns; he brags, he lies, he curses out everybody and
everything, he smites his breast with his fists, threatening all his
foes,--but the soldier especially. But once the Kiriki turn out to
be unfortunate,--the soldier breaks Shasha’s arm with his heel, and
shatters the bridge of his nose, and knocks out his eyes. Lo, now
Shasha is both blind and a cripple. The soldier’s wife abandons him;
his mill, his land, is taken by good folks for his debts. And now
Shasha is safe in harbour; now he is a fully-privileged member of
the horde of beggars that stand in the church enclosure during the
Kiriki,--bone of its bone, flesh of its flesh. All in tatters, with a
round and thick beard, with his head clipped so closely that it looks
like a hedge-hog, he wildly distorts his eye-brows over his empty,
drawn-over sockets, and hoarsely bawls in time with the others the
beggars’ soul-wringing canticles. The chorus sombrely rends the air, to
the best of each member’s ability, and the voices of the leader stand
out resonantly, as they bawl out every syllable:
There once lived three sisters; there were once three Marys of Egypt,--
In three parts did they their wealth divide:
One part was set aside for the blind and the sick;
One part was set aside for prisons, for dark dungeons;
The third part was set aside for churches, for cathedrals....
Shasha’s harsh voice chimes in, soaring above that of the others:
The time will come
When the earth, the sky shall be shaken;
The least stones shall crumble,
The Lord’s thrones shall tumble,
The sun and the moon shall grow dim,--
And the Lord shall cause a river of fire to flow....
And blending, swelling, attaining a sinister and a triumphant force,
the entire choir becomes throatily, sonorously clamorous:
Mi-cha-el the Arch-angel,
Shall make all earthly creatures perish;
He shall blow his trumpets,
He shall say to all mankind:
Ye had your life and being,
Having your own free will;
Ye did shun church-going,--
At matins ye were sleeping,
At vespers ye were eating,--
Your paradise stands ready:
Fires never dying,
Tortures past all bearing!
_1913._
DEATH
In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate!...
This is a tale of the death of a prophet,--peace to his ashes!--told
that the doubters may be convinced of the need for submission to The
Leader.
“We have never beheld Him, nor do we behold Him now,” say they. But the
sun is not at fault in that vision has been denied to the eyes of a
bat. The heart of man aye seeketh faith and protection. But who would
seek protection from an owl? It is better to dream of the shadow of the
phœnix, even though the phœnix may never have existed in this world.
But the protecting shadow of the Creator exists since the start of time.
The black-eared jackal slinks in the steps of a lion: the lion knoweth
where the prey is, and the black-eared one findeth sustenance in the
remnants of the lion’s repast. Thus did the Hebrews follow their
prophet out of the land of Egypt. Through the favour of God did he
fulfill the mighty deed he had set out to do.
In his infancy he had experienced the delight of slumber, of awakening,
of endearment. The daughter of the king had rocked him in her arms,
dark and rounded, smooth as a snake, but as warm as fruit in the sun.
Joyously and intently did her dark eyes gaze upon him, as they shone
above him; and impulsively did she kiss him, pressing him to her cold
breasts; she would pretend to strangle him, as is the wont of all
maidens. When recalling the like, many a one exclaims within his heart:
“Why was I not a youth then!” But there is a time for all things.
The Pharaoh did bestow upon him a ring with a seal of authority, and
did clothe him in the garments of a courtier. When the freshness
of the morning is supplanted by the warmth of the sun; when, in
the marketplace, the fennel is sprinkled to draw the scent of the
purchaser; when there is a smell of burning peat floating from the
chimneys, and a smell of fog from the direction of the great river,
upon which towering white sails slowly float by, two abreast, the while
a thin-bearded buffalo, as dove-coloured and rough-skinned as a swine,
dully contemplates them, as he arises from the slime near the bank,--at
such a time the prophet, conscious of his powers and alertness, did
ride about in his chariot, overlooking the labours in the fields, and
had the right to lash the lazy ones over the head with his scourge,
to yell at them until he became red in the face, so that he might
afterwards, in the sweet consciousness of a duty fulfilled, repose in
the light shade of the palms, upon a dry dike among the canals.
Having attained manhood, he spent ten years in wedlock. He shared his
couch with a woman rich and well-born; he took his pleasure of her
in the night,--in the daytime his pleasure lay in his orders and his
cares, in drink and food, in the buoyancy of his body, that liked
equally well both the dry sultriness of an inner court, emanating from
its heated slabs of stone, and the cool breath of a breeze throughout
the house, blowing from the river and from the blossoming gardens of
its island. He took pride in his children, in his household, in the
respect shown to him of all men. And he was happy, even as many others
are. But an unseen hand was making taut the bow of his life; it was
testing the bow-string and the wood, preparing to loose the arrows of
truth. And ten years more did he pass in the striving of his mind and
his heart, in the silent acquirement of the wisdom of Egypt; for the
wall is preceded by the foundation, and speech, by thought. And he
hath said of the heathen priests: “Ye men of folly! Slaves, tormented
by heat, may be forgiven for raising their arms toward the sun, and
supplicating it as God. But the sun is not God. None may behold God. He
is beyond our comprehension. He may only be sensed. There is but one
God. He hath no offspring.” Whereupon the Pharaoh was possessed by a
fury, even as the _gour_, the wild-ass, is overtaken by his madness.
“Who is he that dares to live and to believe without my sanction?” he
exclaimed. “He hath no precious rings upon his fingers, nor is there
a necklace about his neck. He is but my slave. Therefore shall I set
up a persecution of him and of all his tribe. I shall flash like the
lightning, I shall deafen like thunder.” But the prophet gathered his
strength together, even as a man that standeth before the steep ascent
of a hill, and went upon his way, fearless and assured.
Musk is brayed, aloes are put in the fire, that they might give forth
their perfume. A diver would never pluck a single pearl-bearing
shell, were he to fear holding in his breath as he plunges into the
sea. And when the time had come to lift up the heaviest stone for
the structure, to throw it up on the knee, to clasp it as firmly as
possible and to carry it, the prophet did lift it, so strenuously
that he felt a pain in his groin. And for forty years did he carry it
in the desert, ever at a strain, ever enduring fatigue, and joyous
in the consciousness that he was working the will of God, and not of
the Pharaoh. And, having carried it to the required spot, to the spot
indicated by the Builder, he did cast down the stone, so that it lay
even and flush; and he did straighten up, and did wipe the sweat from
his face, with a trembling arm that had grown weak and was aching to
the very shoulder.
And the time came for him to die.
He had attained to a knowledge of the veritable God. He had become
convinced that it was madness to represent Him in the form of idols
made of stone, of clay, and of metal. God had put upon him the task of
delivering the Hebrew nation out of bondage and from the temptation of
idolatry,--and he had rent asunder the silken nets of this world, he
had risen up and had conquered in the wrestling. God had put him to the
proof,--for forty years to be a chieftain for the refractory and the
weak, to command and instruct in a desert that held nothing but hunger
and sultriness. And for forty years he had been as mighty as a king; as
tireless as a day-labourer burthened with a multitude of children; as
needy as a shepherd; brawny and tall as a wrestler, strong and tawny
as a lion. His body, girt only about the loins with an animal pelt,
had become black from the sun and the wind, while his feet had become
rough and callous, like those of a camel. In his old age he had become
awesome to men, and none of them deemed him mortal. But his hour did
approach at last.
O ye who hearken! In The Book it is written: “All are conceived in
the lap of truth,--it is the parents that make Hebrews, Christians,
Fire-Worshippers out of the children.” But a sage is like a blind man:
he feeleth every stone in his path, choosing the path that is the right
one; he raiseth his face upward, yearning for the sole source of light
and warmth. He considereth life, and he considereth death, lessening
his fear before the latter. And there have been not a few of those who
have received the chalice of the inevitable with equanimity; there have
also been those who have said: “It is even as sweet as the chalice of
life.” However, it is but the fool that yearneth for the chalice of
death during life,--such a one is loathsome to behold. But he also is
a fool that giveth no thought to the inevitable, that forgetteth that
all mortals ought to have but one Beloved, Who possesseth clemency and
demandeth submission. O ye who hearken! Hearken attentively, as man
ought always to hearken to man; and, as ye hearken, reflect. For, as
we speak, we are but mixing the good words of others with the passable
ones of our own, dealing with that which is foreign to none of us; and
the purpose of our speech is consolation.
In The Book it is written: “I that am God am nearer to man than the
artery that sendeth him slumber.” God is compassionate. He knoweth what
is good for us and what is bad. He did create us mortal, yet we think
of resisting death. Vain striving! Have ye heard at what cost Iscander
the Two-Horned attained the Land of Darkness? And yet, he did not
succeed in quaffing of the water of eternal life, of which he had been
told: It is to be found in the Land of Darkness. The Angel of the Winds
is not perturbed by the fact that his wings may extinguish the lamp of
some poor widow. The Messenger of Death heeds neither the prayer of
a shepherd nor the outcry of a sovereign. Bide a while: earth shall
devour the brains within our skulls, that are now filled with projects.
Death is no Mogul, and thou art no Atabek-Abou-Bekr: thou canst not
ransom thyself with gold from Death. Therefore, seek ye consolation.
The prophet did oppose the will of God in the desert, and heavy as
his punishment for his disobedience: God forbade him to enter the
Promised Land. The prophet did wax wroth in spirit that he was mortal,
and that death was already nigh him, for he was old. Spake he: “I
shall do single combat with it.” At noonday, passing through the camp
of the Hebrews in the mountains of Moab, he did look, and beheld not
his shadow upon the white stones nigh him. And he was seized with a
fit of trembling from fear, and his head was confused, like that of
a man that is fever-stricken. Thereupon he did go toward his tent,
with the steps of a wounded beast advancing upon its adversary. And
he girt a sword about him, and did command food to be brought to him.
And he did eat much thereof, full greedily, till that he was sated.
And he did feel aches and nausea, as though from poison, as though
from the fruit plucked from the tree of hell; and he did wax green in
the face, and was bathed in sweat, even as a woman in travail; and
he did lie down upon the ground, crying out wildly: “Behold, I am
dying,--bare your swords and arise in my defense!” Thus did he cry out
upon the first day. On the second, his aches did wax greater, and he
began to implore, moaning and wrathful: “Summon a physician for me!”
But when the physician had revealed his impotence, and the third day
had come, the prophet uttered low: “Oh, have mercy upon me! Death is
unconquerable!” And he did grow weaker, and fell into a slumber, and
did sleep through all the day, and his aches did depart from him. And,
having come to, he beheld that it was already night and that he was
alone, and again did he feel the delight of living, and the sorrow of
parting with life. Whereupon two dark angels did enter in to him, that
they might console and prepare him.
One sat down at the head of the couch; the other, at the feet of the
prophet. “Speak!” said they. But he kept silent and made no reply to
them, for he was in deep thought. He gazed out into the night, beyond
the raised side of the tent, sensing their presence with dread, for
truth had not yet entered within all his veins. And it was so quiet in
the tent and the desert that all the three could hear the rustling of
the hot wind as it swept by in the darkness. And the stars were flaming
sombrely, as on all sultry nights.
“God is compassionate to all His creatures,” spake the angel who was
sitting at the head of the prophet’s couch.
“Yet here is a man in torment; he was dying, and is dying now,” spake
the angel sitting at the prophet’s feet.
They wanted to test the prophet, but he understood this. And he made
answer, in his thoughts:
“This was not death, but an illness, a chastisement. Is it not better
to think thus? For he that hath tasted of death cannot speak about it.
We know not what it is.”
“The sun is the source of life,” spake the angel sitting at the head of
the couch.
“But then, it is also as deadly as the horned viper,” spake the angel
seated opposite him.
They wanted to test the prophet, but he understood this. And he made
answer, in his thoughts:
“We do not know God’s purpose. But He is benign, and His purpose also
is benign. Is it not better to think thus? Man ought to dedicate his
every moment to life, recalling death only that he may weigh all his
deeds upon its scales, and that he may meet the inevitable hour without
fear. How would he that trades know that he is dealing fairly with him
that buys, how would he know that he is giving him that which is his
due, if there were no scales? How would a man spend his day, if his
heart were never to be forsaken by indignation over the thought that
the sun would sink at its wonted hour, and if he were to be possessed
with the desire of preventing it? He would be insane and futile.”
“The slumber of the dead is sweet,” spake the angel sitting at the head
of the couch.
“But, just now, a man has died in the camp of the Hebrews,--happy,
young, beloved,” spake the angel seated opposite him. “Just hearken:
there is the rustle of the hot wind; the stars flame sombrely; and the
hyænas whine and whimper in their evil joy, hurriedly digging open
the grave, sniffing its stench and anticipating the devouring of his
entrails. But the sorrow of the dead man’s near ones is more dreadful
than the grave itself.”
They wanted to test the prophet, and they did succeed in wounding his
heart with the last. But, in his thoughts, he spake to them:
“I am recalling every moment of my life; every moment of my sweet
childhood, my joyous youth, my laborious manhood--and I lament
them. Ye speak of the grave,--and my hands grow chill from fear.
I beseech ye,--console me not, for consolation depriveth one of
courage. I beseech ye,--remind me not of the flesh, for it will turn
to corruption. Is it not better to think otherwise? Even his halting
place, in a vale sheltered from the winds, where he may have passed but
a day, a man will abandon with regret; but it is his duty to go on, if
to go on be necessary. Speaking with dread of the grave, are we not
speaking in the words of the ancients, that knew the flesh, but knew
not God and the immortality of souls? Dreadful is the majesty of the
deeds of God. Do we not mistake this dread for the dread of death? Say
ye to yourselves more often: ‘The hour of death is not as dreadful as
we deem it. Else, neither the universe nor man could exist.’”
“He is a sage,” spake the angel sitting at the head of the couch.
“He was refractory and arrogant,” spake the angel seated opposite the
first. “He dreamed of wrestling with God,--and now he shall be punished
anew: never a mortal shall point to his grave in the mountains of Moab.
And thereby shall his glory be diminished.”
They wanted to test the prophet, but he understood, and answered them
unwaveringly:
“Goodly is the glory of those that merit glory. But that which has
earned diminution, must be diminished. For even the most glorious of
men would rejoice only in the true measure of glory.”
Thereupon the angels, struck by the wisdom of the prophet, did exclaim,
as they arose from their places:
“Truly, God Himself shall console thee! We can but bow down before
thee.”
They were dark, and they were standing in a dark tent. But their eyes
shone, and the prophet beheld the starry radiance of their eyes. They
retreated into the night, like shades, barely stooping at the doorway
of the tent. As for the prophet, he remained alone in the midst of the
night and the desert, lying upon the earth. And when the sun had arisen
from behind the craggy mountains, and it grew light and hot within
the tent, the prophet, feeling a great longing to rest amid coolness,
did forsake his couch, and did bend his steps toward a vale in the
mountains, seeking shade. But there was none even in the vale by now.
However, in the inmost recesses of one mountain he came upon a cavern.
And behold, two captives were hacking away with sharp picks at the
entrance into this cavern. The stones at the entrance were as white as
the snow upon mountain-tops, and were hot from the sun. And the black
hair of the copper-faced captives, as well as the cloths about their
loins, were wet with perspiration. But two fresh fruits, two apples,
were lying upon a stone near the cavern, while in the cavern itself
it was dark and cool. And the labourers, lowering their picks, spake,
saying:
“We greet thee, lord and chieftain, in the name of God, the Merciful,
the Compassionate. Lo, we have finished our labour.”
And the prophet asked them:
“Who are ye, and what were ye doing?”
To which they did answer:
“We were preparing a treasure-chamber for the king. Enter, look about
thee, and rest from thy journey and the heat. Refresh thy lips with the
fruits, and tell us which is the sweeter and riper one.”
And, having entered the cavern, the prophet did sit down upon a stone
couch nigh one of its walls, and did feel the shade and the coolness.
And, having bitten of the first fruit, he spake:
“Verily, this is life itself: I am drinking water from a spring, I
scent the pleasant odours of the flowers of the fields, and I feel the
taste of aspen honey. I am vigorous, and I am strong.”
And, having bitten of the second, he exclaimed:
“Verily, there is nothing to compare with this: I am drinking the wines
of paradise, sealed with a seal of musk, blended with the water of a
well-spring that quencheth the thirst of those who draw nigh to The
Eternal. I scent the fragrance of a celestial garden, and feel the
taste of the honey of its flowers,--nor hath this honey any bitter
tang. And lo, a blessed drowsiness befogs my head. Awake me not, O ye
captives, till that my time be fulfilled.”
And the captives,--they were angels, the captives of God,--quietly went
on, as his speech died away:
“Till that the sun,” uttered the first, reading the _Sura_, the
Canticle, of the Great Tidings--“till that the sun be bent, till that
the stars rain down from the sky, and the mountains remove from their
place, and the she-camels be abandoned, and the seas do boil up....”
“I am S’in,” uttered the second, reading the _Sura_ for the Departing.
“Glory be to Him that reigneth over all the universe! Ye all shall
return to Him!...”
And, hearing their whispers, but without catching their words, the
prophet did lie down upon the couch, and did repose in the sleep of
death, knowing not thereof. And the angels did wall up the entrance to
the sepulchral cavern, and did depart to the Master Who had sent them.
And the prophet was joined to his people, having had his fill of days,
and without perceiving the end thereof. Never a man, even to this day,
has yet contemplated his tomb in the mountains of Moab. But his wisdom
is imprinted in the memory of all peoples, and is recorded in Heaven in
_Ghilliun_, the Book Eternal.
The Sheikh Saadi,--may his name be blessed!--the Sheikh Saadi,--many of
his pearls have we strung side by side with our own, upon the string
of a good style!--hath told us of a man who had tasted the bliss of
drawing nigh The Beloved. This man had been lost in contemplation; but
when he had come back to the everyday world, he was asked with a kindly
mockery: “But where are the flowers from the garden of your reverie?”
And the man made answer: “I desired to bring back the whole skirt of
my coat full of roses for my friends; but, when I had drawn nigh the
rose-bush, I was so intoxicated by its fragrance that I did release it
out of my hands.”
Let him that can connect the story of the poet with our own.
Peace and joy be the portion of all that dwell upon this earth!
_1911._
THE GENTLEMAN FROM SAN FRANCISCO
_Alas, alas that great city Babylon,
that mighty city!_
THE APOCALYPSE
The gentleman from San Francisco--neither at Naples nor at Capri had
any one remembered his name--was going to the Old World for two whole
years, with wife and daughter, solely for the sake of pleasure.
He was firmly convinced that he was fully entitled to rest, to
pleasure, to prolonged and comfortable travel, and to not a little
else besides. For such a conviction he had his reasons,--that, in the
first place, he was rich, and, in the second, that he was only now
beginning to live, despite his eight and fifty years. Until now he had
not lived, but had merely existed,--not at all badly, it is true, but,
never the less, putting all his hopes on the future. He had laboured
with never a pause for rest,--the coolies, whom he had imported by
whole thousands, well knew what this meant!--and finally he saw that
much had already been accomplished, that he had almost come abreast of
those whom he had at one time set out to emulate, and he decided to
enjoy breathing space. It was a custom among the class of people to
which he belonged to commence their enjoyment of life with a journey
to Europe, to India, to Egypt. He, too, proposed to do the same. Of
course he desired, first of all, to reward himself for his years of
toil; however, he rejoiced on account of his wife and daughter as well.
His wife had never been distinguished for any special sensitiveness
to new impressions,--but then, all elderly American women are fervid
travellers. As for his daughter,--a girl no longer in her first youth,
and somewhat sickly,--travel was a downright necessity for her: to
say nothing of the benefit to her health, were there no fortuitous
encounters during travels? It is while travelling that one may at times
sit at table with a _milliardaire_, or scrutinize frescoes by his side.
The itinerary worked out by the gentleman from San Francisco was an
extensive one. In December and January he hoped to enjoy the sun of
Southern Italy, the monuments of antiquity, the _tarantella_, the
serenades of strolling singers, and that which men of his age relish
with the utmost _finesse_: the love of little, youthful Neapolitaines,
even though it be given not entirely without ulterior motives; he
contemplated spending the Carnival in Nice, in Monte Carlo, whither
the very pick of society gravitates at that time,--that very society
upon which all the benefits of civilization depend: not merely the
cut of tuxedos, but, as well, the stability of thrones, and the
declaration of wars, and the prosperity of hotels,--Monte Carlo,
where some give themselves up with passion to automobile and sail
races; others to roulette; a third group to that which it is the
custom to call flirting; a fourth, to trap-shooting, in which the
pigeons, released from their cotes, soar up most gracefully above
emerald-green swards, against the background of a sea that is the
colour of forget-me-nots,--only, in the same minute, to strike against
the ground as little, crumpled clods of white.... The beginning of
March he wanted to devote to Florence; about the time of the Passion of
Our Lord to arrive at Rome, in order to hear the _Miserere_ there; his
plans also embraced Venice, and Paris, and bull-fighting in Seville,
and sea-bathing in the British Islands, and Athens, and Constantinople,
and Palestine, and Egypt, and even Japan,--of course, be it understood,
already on the return trip.... And everything went very well at first.