Fifty-One Tales Read online

  And the sea rose up as is the wont of the sea and the little ship fromafar was in his hands, and frailer than ever seemed its feeble mastswith their sails of fantastic cut and their alien flags. And the sea madea great and very triumphing voice, as the sea doth. And then therearose a wave that was very strong, even the ninth-born son of thehurricane and the tide, and hid the little ship and hid the whole of thefar parts of the sea. Thereat said those who stood on the good dryland:

  "'Twas but a little, worthless alien ship and it is sunk at sea, and it isgood and right that the storm have spoil." And they turned and watchedthe course of the merchant-men, laden with silver and appeasing spice;year after year they cheered them into port and praised their goods andtheir familiar sails. And many years went by.

  And at last with decks and bulwarks covered with cloth of gold; withage-old parrots that had known the troubadours, singing illustrioussongs and preening their feathers of gold; with a hold full of emeraldsand rubies; all silken with Indian loot; furling as it came in its way-wornalien sails, a galleon glided into port, shutting the sunlight from themerchantmen: and lo! it loomed the equal of the cliffs.

  "Who are you?" they asked, "far-travelled wonderful ship?"

  And they said: "The _Petite Esperance_."

  "O," said the people on shore. "We thought you were sunk at sea."

  "Sunk at sea?" sang the sailors. "We could not be sunk at sea--wehad the gods on board."

  A MISTAKEN IDENTITY

  Fame as she walked at evening in a city saw the painted face ofNotoriety flaunting beneath a gas-lamp, and many kneeled unto herin the dirt of the road.

  "Who are you?" Fame said to her.

  "I am Fame," said Notoriety.

  Then Fame stole softly away so that no one knew she had gone.

  And Notoriety presently went forth and all her worshippers rose andfollowed after, and she led them, as was most meet, to her native Pit.

  THE TRUE HISTORY OF THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE

  For a long time there was doubt with acrimony among the beasts asto whether the Hare or the Tortoise could run the swifter. Some saidthe Hare was the swifter of the two because he had such long ears,and others said the Tortoise was the swifter because anyone whoseshell was so hard as that should be able to run hard too. And lo, theforces of estrangement and disorder perpetually postponed a decisivecontest.

  But when there was nearly war among the beasts, at last anarrangement was come to and it was decided that the Hare and theTortoise should run a race of five hundred yards so that all shouldsee who was right.

  "Ridiculous nonsense!" said the Hare, and it was all his backers coulddo to get him to run.

  "The contest is most welcome to me," said the Tortoise, "I shall notshirk it."

  O, how his backers cheered.

  Feeling ran high on the day of the race; the goose rushed at the foxand nearly pecked him. Both sides spoke loudly of the approachingvictory up to the very moment of the race.

  "I am absolutely confident of success," said the Tortoise. Butthe Hare said nothing, he looked bored and cross. Some of hissupporters deserted him then and went to the other side, who wereloudly cheering the Tortoise's inspiriting words. But many remainedwith the Hare. "We shall not be disappointed in him," they said. "Abeast with such long ears is bound to win."

  "Run hard," said the supporters of the Tortoise.

  And "run hard" became a kind of catch-phrase which everybodyrepeated to one another. "Hard shell and hard living. That's whatthe country wants. Run hard," they said. And these words werenever uttered but multitudes cheered from their hearts.

  Then they were off, and suddenly there was a hush.

  The Hare dashed off for about a hundred yards, then he lookedround to see where his rival was.

  "It is rather absurd," he said, "to race with a Tortoise." And he satdown and scratched himself. "Run hard! Run hard!" shouted some.

  "Let him rest," shouted others. And "let him rest" became acatch-phrase too.

  And after a while his rival drew near to him.

  "There comes that damned Tortoise," said the Hare, and he got upand ran as hard as could be so that he should not let the Tortoisebeat him.

  "Those ears will win," said his friends. "Those ears will win; andestablish upon an incontestable footing the truth of what we havesaid." And some of them turned to the backers of the Tortoise andsaid: "What about your beast now?"

  "Run hard," they replied. "Run hard."

  The Hare ran on for nearly three hundred yards, nearly in fact as faras the winning-post, when it suddenly struck him what a fool he lookedrunning races with a Tortoise who was nowhere in sight, and he satdown again and scratched.

  "Run hard. Run hard," said the crowd, and "Let him rest."

  "Whatever is the use of it?" said the Hare, and this time he stoppedfor good. Some say he slept.

  There was desperate excitement for an hour or two, and then theTortoise won.

  "Run hard. Run hard," shouted his backers. "Hard shell and hardliving: that's what has done it." And then they asked the Tortoise whathis achievement signified, and he went and asked the Turtle. And theTurtle said, "It is a glorious victory for the forces of swiftness." Andthen the Tortoise repeated it to his friends. And all the beasts saidnothing else for years. And even to this day, "a glorious victory forthe forces of swiftness" is a catch-phrase in the house of the snail.

  And the reason that this version of the race is not widely known isthat very few of those that witnessed it survived the great forest-firethat happened shortly after. It came up over the weald by night witha great wind. The Hare and the Tortoise and a very few of the beastssaw it far off from a high bare hill that was at the edge of the trees, andthey hurriedly called a meeting to decide what messenger they shouldsend to warn the beasts in the forest.

  They sent the Tortoise.

  ALONE THE IMMORTALS

  I heard it said that far away from here, on the wrong side of thedeserts of Cathay and in a country dedicate to winter, are all the yearsthat are dead. And there a certain valley shuts them in and hides them,as rumor has it, from the world, but not from the sight of the moon norfrom those that dream in his rays.

  And I said: I will go from here by ways of dream and I will come tothat valley and enter in and mourn there for the good years that aredead. And I said: I will take a wreath, a wreath of mourning, and layit at their feet in token of my sorrow for their dooms.

  And when I sought about among the flowers, among the flowers formy wreath of mourning, the lily looked too large and the laurel lookedtoo solemn and I found nothing frail enough nor slender to serve as anoffering to the years that were dead. And at last I made a slenderwreath of daisies in the manner that I had seen them made in one ofthe years that is dead.

  "This," said I, "is scarce less fragile or less frail than one of thosedelicate forgotten years." Then I took my wreath in my hand andwent from here. And when I had come by paths of mystery to thatromantic land, where the valley that rumour told of lies close to themountainous moon, I searched among the grass for those poor slightyears for whom I bought my sorrow and my wreath. And when I foundthere nothing in the grass I said: "Time has shattered them and sweptthem away and left not even any faint remains."

  But looking upwards in the blaze of the moon I suddenly saw colossisitting near, and towering up and blotting out the stars and filling thenight with blackness; and at those idols' feet I saw praying and makingobeisance kings and the days that are and all times and all cities and allnations and all their gods. Neither the smoke of incense nor of thesacrifice burning reached those colossal heads, they sat there not tobe measured, not to be over-thrown, not to be worn away.

  I said: "Who are those?"

  One answered: "Alone the Immortals."

  And I said sadly: "I came not to see dread gods, but I came to shedmy tears and to offer flowers at the feet of certain little years that aredead and may not come again."

  He answered me: "These _are_ the years that are dead, alone t
heimmortals; all years to be are Their children--They fashioned theirsmiles and their laughter; all earthly kings They have crowned, allgods They have created; all the events to be flow down from theirfeet like a river, the worlds are flying pebbles that They have alreadythrown, and Time and all his centuries behind him kneel there withbended crests in token of vassalage at Their potent feet."

  And when I heard this I turned away with my wreath, and went backto my own land comforted.

  A MORAL LITTLE TALE

  There was once an earnest Puritan who held it wrong to dance. Andfor his principles he labored hard, his was a zealous life. And thereloved him all of those who hated the dance; and those that loved thedance respected him too; they said "He is a pure, good man and actsaccording to his lights."

  He did much to discourage dancing and helped to close severalSunday entertainments. Some kinds of poetry, he said, he liked, butnot the fanciful kind as that might corrupt the thoughts of the very young.He always dressed in black.

  He was quite interested in morality and was quite sincere and theregrew to be much respect on Earth for his honest face and his flowingpure-white beard.

  One night the Devil appeared unto him in a dream and said "Well done."

  "Avaunt," said that earnest man.

  "No, no, friend," said the Devil.

  "Dare not to call me 'friend,'" he answered bravely.

  "Come, come, friend," said the Devil. "Have you not done my work? Haveyou not put apart the couples that would dance? Have you not checkedtheir laughter and their accursed mirth? Have you not worn my liveryof black? O friend, friend, you do not know what a detestable thingit is to sit in hell and hear people being happy, and singing intheatres and singing in the fields, and whispering after dances underthe moon," and he fell to cursing fearfully.

  "It is you," said the Puritan, "that put into their hearts the evil desireto dance; and black is God's own livery, not yours."

  And the Devil laughed contemptuously and spoke.

  "He only made the silly colors," he said, "and useless dawns onhill-slopes facing South, and butterflies flapping along them as soonas the sun rose high, and foolish maidens coming out to dance, andthe warm mad West wind, and worst of all that pernicious influenceLove."

  And when the Devil said that God made Love that earnest mansat up in bed and shouted "Blasphemy! Blasphemy!"

  "It's true," said the Devil. "It isn't I that send the village foolsmuttering and whispering two by two in the woods when theharvest moon is high, it's as much as I can bear even to see themdancing."

  "Then," said the man, "I have mistaken right for wrong; but as soonas I wake I will fight you yet."

  "O, no you don't," said the Devil. "You don't wake up out of this sleep."

  And somewhere far away Hell's black steel doors were opened, andarm in arm those two were drawn within, and the doors shut behindthem and still they went arm in arm, trudging further and further intothe deeps of Hell, and it was that Puritan's punishment to know thatthose that he cared for on Earth would do evil as he had done.

  THE RETURN OF SONG

  "The swans are singing again," said to one another the gods. Andlooking downwards, for my dreams had taken me to some fair andfar Valhalla, I saw below me an iridescent bubble not greatly largerthan a star shine beautifully but faintly, and up and up from it lookinglarger and larger came a flock of white, innumerable swans, singingand singing and singing, till it seemed as though even the gods werewild ships swimming in music.

  "What is it?" I said to one that was humble among the gods.

  "Only a world has ended," he said to me, "and the swans are comingback to the gods returning the gift of song."

  "A whole world dead!" I said.

  "Dead," said he that was humble among the gods. "The worlds arenot for ever; only song is immortal."

  "Look! Look!" he said. "There will be a new one soon."

  And I looked and saw the larks, going down from the gods.

  SPRING IN TOWN

  At a street corner sat, and played with a wind, Winter disconsolate.

  Still tingled the fingers of the passers-by and still their breath wasvisible, and still they huddled their chins into their coats when turninga corner they met with a new wind, still windows lighted early sent outinto the street the thought of romantic comfort by evening fires; thesethings still were, yet the throne of Winter tottered, and every breezebrought tidings of further fortresses lost on lakes or boreal hill-slopes.And not any longer as a king did Winter appear in those streets, as whenthe city was decked with gleaming white to greet him as a conqueror andhe rode in with his glittering icicles and haughty retinue of prancingwinds, but he sat there with a little wind at the corner of the street likesome old blind beggar with his hungry dog. And as to some old blindbeggar Death approaches, and the alert ears of the sightless manprophetically hear his far-off footfall, so there came suddenly toWinter's ears the sound, from some neighbouring garden, of Springapproaching as she walked on daisies. And Spring approaching lookedat huddled inglorious Winter.

  "Begone," said Spring.

  "There is nothing for you to do here," said Winter to her. Neverthelesshe drew about him his grey and battered cloak and rose and called tohis little bitter wind and up a side street that led northward strode away.

  Pieces of paper and tall clouds of dust went with him as far as the city'souter gate. He turned then and called to Spring: "You can do nothingin this city," he said; then he marched homeward over plains and seaand heard his old winds howling as he marched. The ice broke upbehind him and foundered like navies. To left and to right of him flewthe flocks of the sea-birds, and far before him the geese's triumphantcry went like a clarion. Greater and greater grew his stature as he wentnorthwards and ever more kingly his mien. Now he took baronies ata stride and now counties and came again to the snow-white frozenlands where the wolves came out to meet him and, draping himselfanew with old grey clouds, strode through the gates of his invinciblehome, two old ice barriers swinging on pillars of ice that had neverknown the sun.

  So the town was left to Spring. And she peered about to seewhat she could do with it. Presently she saw a dejected dog comingprowling down the road, so she sang to him and he gambolled. I sawhim next day strutting by with something of an air. Where there weretrees she went to them and whispered, and they sang the arborealsong that only trees can hear, and the green buds came peeping out asstars while yet it is twilight, secretly one by one. She went to gardensand awaked from dreaming the warm maternal earth. In little patchesbare and desolate she called up like a flame the golden crocus, or itspurple brother like an emperor's ghost. She gladdened the gracelessbacks of untidy houses, here with a weed, there with a little grass.She said to the air, "Be joyous."

  Children began to know that daisies blew in unfrequented corners.Buttonholes began to appear in the coats of the young men. The workof Spring was accomplished.

  HOW THE ENEMY CAME TO THLUNRANA

  It had been prophesied of old and foreseen from the ancient days thatits enemy would come upon Thlunrana. And the date of its doom wasknown and the gate by which it would enter, yet none had prophesiedof the enemy who he was save that he was of the gods though he dweltwith men. Meanwhile Thlunrana, that secret lamaserai, that chiefcathedral of wizardry, was the terror of the valley in which it stoodand of all lands round about it. So narrow and high were the windowsand so strange when lighted at night that they seemed to regard menwith the demoniac leer of something that had a secret in the dark. Whowere the magicians and the deputy-magicians and the great arch-wizardof that furtive place nobody knew, for they went veiled and hooded andcloaked completely in black.

  Though her doom was close upon her and the enemy of prophecyshould come that very night through the open, southward door thatwas named the Gate of the Doom, yet that rocky edifice Thlunranaremained mysterious still, venerable, terrible, dark, and dreadfullycrowned with her doom. It was not often that anyone dared wandernear to Thlunrana by night when the moan of the magician
s invokingwe know not Whom rose faintly from inner chambers, scaring thedrifting bats: but on the last night of all the man from the black-thatchedcottage by the five pine-trees came, because he would see Thlunranaonce again before the enemy that was divine, but that dwelt with men,should come against it and it should be no more. Up the dark valley hewent like a bold man, but his fears were thick upon him; his braverybore their weight but stooped a little beneath them. He went in at thesouthward gate that is named the Gate of the Doom. He came into adark hall, and up a marble stairway passed to see the last of Thlunrana.At the top a curtain of black velvet hung and he passed into a chamberheavily hung with curtains, with a gloom in it that was blacker thananything they could account for. In a sombre chamber beyond, seenthrough a vacant archway, magicians with lighted tapers plied theirwizardry and whispered incantations. All the rats in the place werepassing away, going whimpering down the stairway. The man fromthe black-thatched cottage passed through that second chamber: themagicians did not look at him and did not cease to whisper. He passedfrom them through heavy curtains still of black velvet and came into achamber of black marble where nothing stirred. Only one taper burnedin the third chamber; there were no windows. On the smooth floor andunder the smooth wall a silk pavilion stood with its curtains drawn closetogether: this was the holy of holies of that ominous place, its innermystery. One on each side of it dark figures crouched, either of menor women or cloaked stone, or of beasts trained to be silent. Whenthe awful stillness of the mystery was more than he could bear theman from the black-thatched cottage by the five pine-trees went upto the silk pavilion, and with a bold and nervous clutch of the handdrew one of the curtains aside, and saw the inner mystery, and laughed.And the prophecy was fulfilled, and Thlunrana was never more a terrorto the valley, but the magicians passed away from their terrific halls andfled through the open fields wailing and beating their breasts, forlaughter was the enemy that was doomed to come against Thlunranathrough her southward gate (that was named the Gate of the Doom),and it is of the gods but dwells with man.