suppose that she was. On the contrary, she lived in Hammersmith
Broadway, and took the view that there was no reason why parallel lines
should not meet. ‘Why,’ she would ask, ‘should they be snobs just
because they happen to be parallel? Besides,’ she would add, ‘when I
draw them they do meet.’”
“But,” said a celebrated professor from the London School of Economics
who had been summoned by her anxious parents to cope with the
situation, “those lines which you have drawn aren’t parallel.”
“Why?” inquired the princess.
“Why?” said the professor, “but it is obvious to anybody. Can’t you
see that they meet?”
“Yes,” said the princess, “I see that, but that is what I call being
parallel.”
“But can’t you see that you are defying the axioms upon which all
cognition is based. If parallel lines meet, then when I meet you you do
not meet me.”
“I see no harm in that,” said the princess, who, to be perfectly
honest, had formed a (quite unjustly) low opinion of the professor’s
social gifts; “but speaking of axioms, would you agree that God is
omnipotent?”
“Certainly,” said the professor, “but I do not see how----”
“Forgive me,” said the princess icily. “If God is omnipotent should he
not be able to draw parallel lines that meet?”
“You will forgive my observing,” said the professor, “that if God
interfered with mathematics he would cease to be God.”
“And if mathematics interfered with God?” inquired the princess.
“I cannot,” said the professor, slapping his tall hat on his head with
a resounding bang, “waste my time in talking nonsense.”
“You could, however,” cried the princess after him, “give up teaching
mathematics, could you not?”
XXXV
CHERCHEZ LE JUIF
“I will now,” said the author, “without more ado tell the true story
of Rumpelstiltskin. It was, I think, Professor Boxer, of a celebrated
university, who traced in it a complete articulation of the Hittite
sun-mythology. He was not deceived by the superficial appearance of
elegant nonsense. He observed that Rumpel (as he called him for short),
like Jahwe, laid great stress on concealing his true name. Nor did he
believe that it was likely that even Rumpel was anything other than
a disguise. ‘Who?’ he effectively inquired, ‘would answer to such a
name?’ Clearly, he concluded the name was one of which the utterance
might be supposed to unloose the struts of the world. Now, for my part,
I cannot go the whole way with Professor Boxer. That the story has a
deep symbolism nobody, least of all one who makes his livelihood by the
pretence, would deny. But that it is Hittite in origin, no one who has
studied the customs of that astounding people the Hivites would for a
moment assert. Taking first the evidence of the Rosetta stone, what do
we find?”
“That you have lately been on a personally conducted tour round the
British Museum,” harshly interrupted the publisher.
“And if I have,” cried the author, “am I to be forbidden the simple
pleasure of showing off to my readers who have not had a similar
experience? Am I to have no humanity, no expansion, no freedom? In
short, am I writing this book, or are you?”
“If you are going to take that line,” said the publisher, “you
will force me to inquire on whom the financial risk falls? With
income-tax----”
“Very well,” said the author. “As I detest bickering, I will handle the
story differently, though I am not prepared to abandon my Hivites.”
* * * * *
“That damned old Jew,” began the representative of the well-known
Hittite newspaper....
“Hush,” said his Hivite colleague in the press gallery of the
Convention of the Association of Peoples, “here he is.”
“It is my belief,” muttered the Hittite, “that he is the authentic
Wandering Jew. He appears with his white beard and his parcel at all
international meetings. I believe he is a plague-carrier! Good-day,” he
added aloud, “Monsieur Moses that goes always well!”
The white-bearded old man deposited his heavy parcel with a sigh. “As
usual,” he said, “I find nobody to relieve me of this.” “It would
seem very heavy,” said the Hivite. “It is very heavy,” said the old
Jew; “try to lift it.” The Hivite bent down and strained with all his
strength. The parcel shifted not an inch.
“Heavens!” he said, looking respectfully at the old man. “You must be
strong. But what is it--lead or gold?”
“The name you call the metal,” said the old man wearily, “is a matter
of taste. It is at any rate difficult to support, in which, as your
Hittite colleague is thinking, it is not unlike me.” “My God! what a
suggestion,” said the Hittite, whose true thought had been accurately
expressed. “But, putting on one side your play of spirit, tell us as
among colleagues what is your object?” “To hand over my charge to
one worthy to carry it,” said the old man. “And do you expect to find
him among this collection of international lawmongers?” inquired the
Hittite. “Where else?” said the Jew. “Do you, then,” inquired the
Hivite, “believe in international law?” “I sometimes pretend,” said the
old man, smilingly, “that I invented it. But pardon me! The ceremony is
about to begin.”
The hall below was filled to overflowing. All the delegations were in
their places, all showing in their dress that the occasion was one of a
very especial character. From the press gallery, which was behind the
platform on which the president and the officers of the Convention sat,
could be observed the veiled statue of International Concord, which the
president was that day to dedicate. Almost immediately that gentleman,
followed by a train, beribboned like himself, walked solemnly on to the
platform and took his seat.
The delegations settled down to listen to his speech, anticipating,
as they were entitled to upon his reputation, a superb effort. But
before the president could rise to speak a delegate from East Oceania
rose to a point of order. He was anxious to do nothing to mar the
harmony of so auspicious an occasion, but he wished to know whether any
arrangements had been made as to the order of speeches. He represented
a small country, but one no less passionately devoted to the cause of
international concord than some of those larger ones, owing to whose
ambition his country found itself so reduced.
The president rose to observe that any delegate who desired would, if
he caught his eye, be heard. On such an occasion it would be suitable
that representatives of all classes of nations should be heard. The
representative of West Oceania rose to inquire what was meant by
classes of nations. Was this an indirect gibe at the smaller nations?
If so, he would observe that they had suffered enough already at the
hands of their great neighbours. The president, who had risen to
express the hope that delegates would not indulge in controversy, was
interrupted by the delegate from Central Oceania, who observed that
on behalf of his Government he indignantly repudiated the calumnies
that had fallen from the lips of the last two speakers. It was owing
to the strong hand of nations such as his that this glorious scene of
international amity was achieved. And to drive home that assertion,
let him remind the Convention that the symbol of concord chosen, namely
a griffin, was the emblem of his State.
The president again endeavoured to closure the discussion, but was
forced to give way to the delegate of the Eurasian Empire, who said
that while he entirely agreed with the general position taken up by his
Central Oceanic colleague, he was bound to correct him on a point of
detail. The design which had been approved by the Commission, of which
he had had the honour of acting as chairman, was not a griffin, but the
bull of Melem-to-Pek, his country’s ensign. The Trans-Oceanic delegate
demanded the word. Upon its being granted, he remarked that not for the
first time had the Eurasian Empire endeavoured to confuse the issue. As
the result of what he was bound to call an unfortunate alliance with
the Hivites--contrary to the spirit of the international tables--that
empire believed that with its ally it could dictate to the whole world.
Fortunately, however, those who, like his country and their friends,
the Hittites, believed in internationalism were not prepared to stand
by and see this robber combination---- The Hivite and Eurasian
delegates leapt to their feet amid a growing volume of cries. When
order was restored it was observed that the delegate of Prester John
had the floor. He desired simply to observe that the symbol, for what
it was worth, was merely a dragon, the sign of the oldest culture in
the world. When the barbarians of the West----
The tumult was renewed, and this time the president found himself quite
unable to cope with the situation. At last a member of the secretariat
in the gallery had the brilliant idea of tugging at the cord which
suspended the veil. As it fell a sudden hush fell on the crowd, and
then as the gold image was revealed the cries were renewed: “The
Griffin of Central Oceania,” “The Bull of Melem-to-Pek,” “The Gold
Dragon,” “The Hesperidan Sheep.”
“Silence!” roared a voice of thunder.
All the delegates paused in utter astonishment and looked at the press
gallery, whence this outrageous interjection had proceeded. There they
observed the old Jew standing transfigured and terrible.
“Fools,” he said, “do you not see that it is a golden calf?” and with
that, before anyone could speak or interfere, he drew a shining object
from his parcel and aimed it at the image, shattering it to fragments.
In a moment the whole Convention were on their feet, shouting and
cursing. A rush was made for the gallery, but the old Jew was not
to be found. When those on the platform examined the missile it was
discovered to be a great stone tablet inscribed with Hebrew characters.
Unfortunately there was nobody present who knew that language. Some,
however, said that it was a rival code of honour known among the
Jews as “The Ten Points” or “The Ten Commandments,” but others (and
these were the large majority) saw in it only a further proof of the
well-known Jewish determination to destroy civilisation.
On the motion of the Philistine delegation, it was unanimously decided
to exclude the Jews from the Association of Peoples. International
harmony having thus been restored, the president was enabled to
deliver his speech, which, it was generally agreed, was a magnificent
contribution to the cause of international peace and goodwill.
XXXVI
[Greek: GNÔTHI SEAUTON]
They had shown the newcomer all the sights of the place--Peter’s great
keys, the alabaster walls, the sword of Michael, and Gabriel’s last
trumpet. At last they brought him to the greatest wonder of all--the
glass, in which all his life he had seen darkly. “Look,” they said,
“for now you shall see God face to face.” He looked at first with
unspeakable awe, then with surprise, last with bitter disappointment.
“I am not judged worthy,” he said, turning sorrowfully away, “I saw
nothing but myself.”
XXXVII
E PUR SI MUOVE
It is not easy to exaggerate the emotion excited in the better elements
in the simian world when Bandar, the umbrella-faced ape, announced
his theory that apes were evolved from men. It was not merely the
blasphemous suggestion that the great Baboon had not, as inspired
writing showed, made apes in his own image. That was bad enough, though
it tended to upset the more serious-minded rather than the general. But
what outraged the public taste and wounded it in its tenderest point
was the impudent and indeed grossly indelicate contention that there
had been a time when monkeys had no tails. What made it worse, however,
was the damnable plausibility of it all. Even the most prejudiced
could hardly fail to recognise with a shudder of disgust faint far-off
simian traits, loathsomely humanised, but still distinguishable in men.
To take physique first. It was perhaps true that the mean, chinless
face was entirely wanting in the higher bestiality. Yet it could not
be denied that men had been observed (notably during the recent
disturbances, when they had so continually killed one another) with a
promise of the true prognathous chin. Then as to the withered little
arms and the long deformed lower limbs, with their flattened pads, it
could not be disputed that in their cities the men grew more ape-like
in both respects, with arms increasingly long and grasping and legs
proportionally short and unmanlike. It was true that no instance had
ever been known of a man with a tail. But on the other hand, Bandar
pointed out that among certain degenerate types of the larger ape, as
for example the Mandril, tails were far less developed than among the
better sort. Then as to habits and manners. Here the likeness was even
more disconcerting. First, in the matter of food, it was true that for
the most part they had the horrible human habit of flesh-eating, but
it was known that some had so far approached the ape as to subsist on
fruit and vegetables. In the mode of life they had the ape-like custom
of crowding together. It was true that when they did so collect they
were sufficiently unapelike to destroy all trees and living things and
to surround themselves with unnatural noise and light. It must not be
forgotten, however, that those in the highest regard (and therefore
nearest to the ape) tended not to live in such communities, but to have
large separate dwellings in whose neighbourhood the trees and fields
were left unmolested. In the matter of marriage customs there were, it
was true, wide variations. Some races had the human habit of several
wives, or of changing them frequently. On the other hand, many had
achieved the monkey state of monogamy. It was unhappily true that they
were incapable of intelligent communication. But it was perhaps not too
much to suppose that the queer discordant cries that proceeded from
their lips when several were in company had some meaning. Finally, he
came to their settled habit of exterminating one another for every sort
of cause and lack of cause. Here in truth they were least bestial. But
could it be urged that the apes never fell to manlike levels in this
particular?...
So the formidable argument continued. A hurried Convention of Elders
was summoned, at which it was decided, first, to let it be known that
this doctrine was damnable heresy, and secondly, to end the danger to
the simian world by the execution of the heretic. Both decisions were
duly carried out, and both were widely applauded. But it was like the
obstinate blasphemy of Bandar to exclaim as they slew him:
“E pur si muove,” by which he was understood to mean that in so acting
the apes had behaved exactly like men.
XXXVIII
THE GAME AND THE CANDLE
“I have invented a new game,” said the Spirit of Evil. “Child,” said
the Spirit of Good, smiling benevolently, “will you never grow up? Ah
well, go away and play with it.”
“But,” said the Spirit of Evil, deeply disappointed, “it won’t be any
fun unless I tell you about it.”
“How long will it take?” inquired the Spirit of Good cautiously.
“Only a million or two years at most,” said the Spirit of Evil.
“In that case I will listen. What do you call it, child?”
“I call it man,” said the Spirit of Evil, and he described humanity to
the Spirit of Good.
“You horrid, disgusting little wretch,” said the Spirit of Good after
she had listened patiently for a few thousand centuries. “Stop that
game at once. I won’t have it.”
“But, Good darling!” said Evil, “you did enjoy it when they believed
that you had invented them, now didn’t you?”
“It certainly was funny,” said Good with a gentle sigh, “but all the
same, I rather blame myself for having listened.”
“But it was only a game,” said Evil.
“That’s true,” said Good, “but be more careful with the next one.”
XXXIX
ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY
When the Last Trumpet had cleared men off the earth like crumbs off a
cloth, an unbelievable sweetness and freedom settled over the world.
Presently all that man had spoiled was healed, and earth was a garden
and God took his pleasure walking in it.
There’s a gold apple tree grows in the garden, and if God is so minded
of all other trees he plucks the fruit, but at this he holds his hand
and muses. The green serpent fawns about his feet. “If thou art God
indeed,” he whispers, “eat.” But God bends and strokes the glittering
coils.
“Do thou eat, belovéd,” says he, “and be even as I am, having knowledge
of good and evil--and of thyself.” “Get thou behind me, God,” cries the
serpent, and is fled through the dust of the garden like a green flame.
And when the sweet laughter of God is over, all is quiet in the garden.
XL
IT TAKES TWO TO MAKE A PEACE
After the war, which he believed himself to have won, the everlasting
No met, as he was travelling grandly in his great car, his defeated
enemy, the everlasting Yes. This second, as became one so heavily
defeated, went on foot, in rags, and seemed something of a cripple.
“Ha,” said No, “I am sorry to see you in such case, but you will not
deny that even so I let you off lightly. I tremble to think what
vengeance you would have exacted had you triumphed. Confess that you
would have exterminated me and not limited yourself to ruining and
crippling me.”
“Why,” said Yes reflectively, “I stand for acceptance. I have other
names, too--Love, Hope and Charity. But as acceptance trails your
shadow of refusal, so do my other names trail theirs--Hate, Despair and
Unimaginativeness--and the worst of these shadows is unimaginativeness.
I had dreamed, I confess, that it would be well to wipe out the
shadows.”
“As I thought,” said No, “for all your specious claims you are harder
of heart than I.”
“As acceptance,” said Yes, “must always be harder than refusal and life
than death.”
“But,” cried No triumphantly, “you were wrong. Here go you in rags for
all your lights, and here ride I in purple for all my shadows.”
“I was wrong,” said Yes, “because I was young. I did not see that I
must accept you and your shadows with the rest. I was fighting not
against you but against myself when I would not accept as part of
myself the great refusal.”
“What!” cried No, deeply mortified and inwardly afraid, “beggar that
you are, do you dare to claim that you have won?”
“I only know,” said Yes gently, “that there is no victory.”
“You canting hypocrite,” cried No, “you do not know how to take a
licking.”
“It is because I do,” said Yes, “that there cannot be victory or
defeat. For if the fight were ended where would you be, where I?”
“There is something in that,” said No disconsolately; “but if it be
true, why should you fight? Let us make an eternal peace!”
“That would be to refuse,” said Yes.
“Damn you,” cried No, “I will have peace.”
“It takes two,” said Yes gently, “to make a peace,” and turned to limp
away.
“But Yes,” cried No after him, now thoroughly dismayed, “how is all
this to end?”
“Dear No,” said Yes, “it does not end.”
XLI
VICISTI GALILÆE
Down a path in the wood she came singing. The path on which she walked
was itself like a song under leaves like music. The path was the echo
of the song, or the song of the path. It does not matter. This was
before music and the world made of music had fallen apart.
His shadow fell on the path. The song stopped; the path grew still.
“It is quiet, quiet,” she said.
“It is love,” said he.
“Something has died,” she whispered.
“And has risen from the dead,” he cried, drawing very close. “Love has
conquered death.”
“Alas,” she said, taking his hand and kissing it, “before love came
there was no death to conquer.”
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.