_An original story written for_ THE SCRAP BOOK.
“They are ghouls, and their king it is who tolls.”
“Heaven born, forbear anger; in one little half-hour, or an hour at
most, the bearers shall be here, and we will go forward with the speed
of dragons. In the meantime, I will place a rug for the Presence to sit
upon, and give him fire that he may drink tobacco.”
Jarvis assented with a sulky grunt, tossed Chen, his Chinese runner, a
cigar, and lay on his back smoking and staring up into the dark hollow
of the great bell suspended on a stone tripod.
“After labor it is good to lie at ease and smoke, especially when the
Presence, who is my father and mother, bestows such tobacco. If the
Heaven Born desires, I will tell him the tale of the great bell under
which we lie. I have permission? Thus runs the tale:
“Kublai-Chan, Lord of the Earth, desired greatly to leave a memory such
as no other king should ever equal, and after much thought he called
Kuang Sai, the great artist in all metals, and commanded:
“‘Let there be cast for me a great bell, such as never earth or heaven
saw, of the finest metal, bossed with angels and demons, and so great
that the sound thereof shall reach to the utmost border of my kingdom,
that all may hear, and, hearing, know that in Kambalu reigns the king,
and, knowing, tremble and obey him.’
“And Kuang Sai prostrated himself nine times, and said: ‘My lord wills
it, and it is done.’
“And he called his master metal-workers, journeymen and apprentices, and
took from the king’s treasury gold and silver and copper and fine bronze
for the casting, and he took clay and wax and modeled the bell—great,
beautifully formed; round the lip of it, lilies and pomegranate; round
the body of it, the angels and devils of air and sound, with waving hair
and garments, like sound-made flesh; the loops by which it was to hang,
two imperial dragons.
“And when all was ready he made the mold, and his men lit the fires, and
for two days labored they at the melting, casting into the pot the gold
and silver and copper and fine bronze. And when it was melted with
fervent heat, his master founder, the strong man, struck out the plug
from the crucible, and let the red hot metal flow into the mold. Four
days waited the cooling; then they broke the mold—and the great bell was
flawed.
“And again he made the mold and melted the metal, and again cast it, and
again it was flawed. And again and again, and yet again, and always the
great bell was flawed, and must be broken and re-melted.
“Then Kuang Sai offered sacrifice to his gods, and his master
metal-workers, journeymen and apprentices, according to their several
degree, also offered sacrifice to their gods; and again they cast it,
and again it was flawed.
“Two score times they cast it—and always the flaw. Kuang Sai grew thin
and pale; he ate not, nor slept; for his honor laid in that casting—and
always the flaw.
“He offered sacrifice to the high gods, the middle, and the less; to the
lords of earth, air, sea, and sky; to all demons and rulers of the upper
and under worlds; to gods and godlings. He prayed in all temples; he
gave food and garments to the poor; he consulted all priests; he leaked
rice and silver to all. The priests grew fat and sleek; an innumerable
multitude of beggars lay at the gate of Kuang Sai; and still, when he
cast the bell—the flaw.
“And on a day he was summoned to the footstool of the great Chan. He
made the nine prostrations according to ritual, and waited; and
presently, soft and low, the great Kublai-Chan spoke thus:
“‘Kuang Sai, I have given thee all things to make my bell, yet still
thou hast failed after three score trials, whereby I am lacking my bell,
and my honor is diminished. If in three more trials I have not my bell,
you shall die the death of a thousand slices, and your house and all
therein perish by fire. I have said it. You have my permission to
depart.’
“Kuang Sai departed full of fear. That night he went to the little
Temple of Forbidden Things, and paid the blind priest of that temple to
call up by name the powers of air, water, fire, and earth, and ask which
of the lords of all things he had offended, that he might make his peace
and cast his bell.
“He sat at the foot of the naked altar, while the priest cast dust upon
his head and called upon the high gods, the middle, and the less, by
name—each by his name, title, dignity, and degree. He called upon all
gods of city and field, of trees and fountains, great and small; and
they answered not. Then he called on the demons and lords of particular
things, of metals and tools, of trades and crafts.
“And when he called on the Lord of Bells, came the runner of the Lord of
Bells—a demon terrible to behold, red in color, bristling with hair,
short and broad of stature, squat and paunchy of figure, long of arm,
wide-mouthed, and having three eyes.
“‘Kuang Sai,’ said he (and his voice was like the rolling of a great
bell), ‘you have made sacrifice to all gods, but you have forgotten the
great Lord of Bells.’
“At the name all the temple gongs boomed without being struck of hands.
“‘Therefore is he mocked of his fellows; and therefore, before he will
suffer you to cast the king’s bell, my lord demands your most precious
treasure. At the next founding, when the metal leaps red hot for the
casting, bring your daughter’ (here Kuang Sai cried aloud and fell down
with his face in the dust of the temple floor) ‘arrayed as a bride, and
before the metal flows give her to the Lord of Bells; so shall the
casting be good. If not, remember that the death of a thousand slices is
long, for without this sacrifice never will my lord suffer you to cast
that bell.’
“And he disappeared, making noises like a bell.
“Kuang Sai went forth, staggering, and all night he walked and thought;
and at morn he said ‘No,’ and went to the casting—and again the flaw.
And he sat dumb and motionless and ground his teeth, and again said
‘No,’ and went to the casting—and again the flaw.
“Excellency, all that a man has, down to his skin, will he give for his
life; and near to me is my shirt, but nearer my skin; and if the third
casting failed he died in agony and his name was blotted out. There be
men who would have died, but living among pictures and statues and
singing men and women does not breed the courage that says ‘Then I can
die.’
“On the day of the last casting, what time the pot bubbled full of red
hot metal, over which floated light clouds of heat, came Kuang Sai,
leading by the hand his little daughter, Fen Sai, blooming as a white
water-lily, tripping on her little pearl-embroidered shoes, chattering
and laughing in her father’s face.
“They came to the scaffold over the mouth of the great melting-pot, and
as they came the master founder, the strong man, cried: ‘Master, behold
the casting waits.’
“And Kuang Sai suddenly caught up his little daughter and cast her into
the molten metal. Once she cried, very awful to hear—once, and no more;
for or ever she touched the metal the fierce heat licked her up as a
drop of wine is dried on a hot stone. And as she fell, one of her little
shoes dropped off onto the scaffold.
“‘To the casting,’ said Kuang Sai, and the strong man struck out the
plug of the crucible, and the metal, glowing red and green and golden,
flowed into the mold. Four days waited they the cooling, and they broke
the mold—and behold, the great bell, perfect, flawless, the wonder of
the world for ages; the bell under which we now lie.
“And Kublai-Chan said:
“‘Let Kuang Sai be clothed in the imperial yellow; give to him the
mandarin’s crystal button, and write on a tablet at my palace gate, in
letters of vermilion: “Kuang Sai, the Incomparable Artificer, Whom the
King Delights to Honor.”’
“And they clothed Kuang Sai and bowed down before him, giving him due
honor according to command.
“Then masons built the stone pillars and hung the great bell, and on a
day came Kublai-Chan to ring it for the first time, and with him, at his
right hand, Kuang Sai, whom he delighted to honor.
“And when all things were prepared, Kublai-Chan, the great king, drew
back the striking-beam with all force, and rang the great bell, and
sound came forth, deep, sweet, and full as the voices of the gods.
“Far, far away spread the circles of sound, even to the edge of the
kingdom. The multitudes gathered around and fell down before that voice
in rows, as corn before the reaper. The farmer in the field heard and
fell down before the voice of the king’s bell. At the edge of the
kingdom the Tatar heard it, and checked his horse, wondering.
“And little by little the sound rippled down again to silence, but as
the sound died there came a buzzing and whispering inside the bell, and
it grew and grew sharper and louder, into a second peal—clear, sharp,
cutting the heart like a knife—the scream of a woman in pain, fright,
and horror beyond measure.
“Kublai-Chan covered his lips with his hand, for kings should not be
seen to tremble. His guards, strong men, red-haired, tigers nourished by
blood, looked on each other with white faces, and Kuang Sai, in his
robes of honor, crouched and scrabbled in the dirt with his fingers and
whispered and driveled.
“They led him away, and all his life long he had no more the light of
reason, but sat and mowed and muttered and laughed foolishly, except
when the king’s bell rang, and then he would fall and lie with his mouth
in the dust.
“Behold! in an auspicious hour here come the bearers. Shall we walk to
meet them? My tale has eaten up the waiting. But Heaven Born doubts its
truth. Before we go, I will ring the great bell for him.”
Chen caught the suspended beam by which Chinese bells are rung, swung
it, and struck the shining side of the bell, and the deep boom echoed
over the flat plain. It was truly a tremendous sound, and justified the
belief that it could be heard to the confines of the kingdom, and
gradually the rippling circles of sound died down to silence.
Jarvis, standing with his hands in his belt, was forming his lips to
say, ‘But where’s the scream?’ when Chen raised his hand for silence,
and then, within the arch of the great bell, began a buzzing, like
bees—a little sound, like trickling water or the roaring in a shell; and
this thread of sound grew and gathered till suddenly there pealed out,
full-throated, the cry of a woman in agony of body and soul—a sound to
dream of and wake at night with your teeth on edge.
“That, excellency,” said Chen, “is Fen Sai crying for her shoe.”
Jarvis answered nothing, but he walked faster toward the coming bearers,
and though the sun was hot on his back, his bones felt cold.
* * * * *
Man could direct his ways by plain reason and support his life by
tasteless food; but God has given us wit, and flavor, and brightness,
and laughter, and performers, to enliven the days of man’s pilgrimage,
and to charm his pained steps over the burning marl.—Sidney Smith.
(1771–1845.)