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diff --git a/1853-h/1853-h.htm b/1853-h/1853-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e994de5 --- /dev/null +++ b/1853-h/1853-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9124 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Ninth Vibration and Other Stories, by L. Adams Beck + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's The Ninth Vibration And Other Stories, by L. Adams Beck + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Ninth Vibration And Other Stories + +Author: L. Adams Beck + +Release Date: November 18, 2009 [EBook #1853] +Last Updated: October 31, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NINTH VIBRATION *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE NINTH VIBRATION <br /><br />AND OTHER STORIES + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By L. Adams Beck + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE NINTH VIBRATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE INTERPRETER A ROMANCE OF THE EAST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE INCOMPARABLE LADY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE HATRED OF THE QUEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> FIRE OF BEAUTY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE BUILDING OF THE TAJ MAHAL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> “HOW GREAT IS THE GLORY OF KWANNON!” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE ROUND-FACED BEAUTY </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + THE NINTH VIBRATION + </h2> + <p> + There is a place uplifted nine thousand feet in purest air where one of + the most ancient tracks in the world runs from India into Tibet. It leaves + Simla of the Imperial councils by a stately road; it passes beyond, but + now narrowing, climbing higher beside the khuds or steep drops to the + precipitous valleys beneath, and the rumor of Simla grows distant and the + way is quiet, for, owing to the danger of driving horses above the khuds, + such baggage as you own must be carried by coolies, and you yourself must + either ride on horseback or in the little horseless carriage of the + Orient, here drawn and pushed by four men. And presently the deodars + darken the way with a solemn presence, for— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “These are the Friars of the wood, + The Brethren of the Solitude + Hooded and grave—” + </pre> + <p> + their breath most austerely pure in the gradually chilling air. Their + companies increase and now the way is through a great wood where it has + become a trail and no more, and still it climbs for many miles and finally + a rambling bungalow, small and low, is sighted in the deeps of the trees, + a mountain stream from unknown heights falling beside it. And this is + known as the House in the Woods. Very few people are permitted to go + there, for the owner has no care for money and makes no provision for + guests. You must take your own servant and the khansamah will cook you + such simple food as men expect in the wilds, and that is all. You stay as + long as you please and when you leave not even a gift to the khansamah is + permitted. + </p> + <p> + I had been staying in Ranipur of the plains while I considered the + question of getting to Upper Kashmir by the route from Simla along the old + way to Chinese Tibet where I would touch Shipki in the Dalai Lama’s + territory and then pass on to Zanskar and so down to Kashmir—a + tremendous route through the Himalaya and a crowning experience of the + mightiest mountain scenery in the world. I was at Ranipur for the purpose + of consulting my old friend Olesen, now an irrigation official in the + Rampur district—a man who had made this journey and nearly lost his + life in doing it. It is not now perhaps so dangerous as it was, and my + life was of no particular value to any one but myself, and the plan + interested me. + </p> + <p> + I pass over the long discussions of ways and means in the blinding heat of + Ranipur. Olesen put all his knowledge at my service and never uttered a + word of the envy that must have filled him as he looked at the distant + snows cool and luminous in blue air, and, shrugging good-natured + shoulders, spoke of the work that lay before him on the burning plains + until the terrible summer should drag itself to a close. We had vanquished + the details and were smoking in comparative silence one night on the + veranda, when he said in his slow reflective way; + </p> + <p> + “You don’t like the average hotel, Ormond, and you’ll like it still less + up Simla way with all the Simla crowd of grass-widows and fellows out for + as good a time as they can cram into the hot weather. I wonder if I could + get you a permit for The House in the Woods while you re waiting to fix up + your men and route for Shipki.” + </p> + <p> + He explained and of course I jumped at the chance. It belonged, he said, + to a man named Rup Singh, a pandit, or learned man of Ranipur. He had + always spent the summer there, but age and failing health made this + impossible now, and under certain conditions he would occasionally allow + people known to friends of his own to put up there. + </p> + <p> + “And Rup Singh and I are very good friends,” Olesen said; “I won his heart + by discovering the lost Sukh Mandir, or Hall of Pleasure, built many + centuries ago by a Maharao of Ranipur for a summer retreat in the great + woods far beyond Simla. There are lots of legends about it here in + Ranipur. They call it The House of Beauty. Rup Singh’s ancestor had been a + close friend of the Maharao and was with him to the end, and that’s why he + himself sets such store on the place. You have a good chance if I ask for + a permit. + </p> + <p> + “He told me the story and since it is the heart of my own I give it + briefly. Many centuries ago the Ranipur Kingdom was ruled by the Maharao + Rai Singh a prince of the great lunar house of the Rajputs. Expecting a + bride from some far away kingdom (the name of this is unrecorded) he built + the Hall of Pleasure as a summer palace, a house of rare and costly + beauty. A certain great chamber he lined with carved figures of the Gods + and their stories, almost unsurpassed for truth and life. So, with the + pine trees whispering about it the secret they sigh to tell, he hoped to + create an earthly Paradise with this Queen in whom all loveliness was + perfected. And then some mysterious tragedy ended all his hopes. It was + rumoured that when the Princess came to his court, she was, by some + terrible mistake, received with insult and offered the position only of + one of his women. After that nothing was known. Certain only is it that he + fled to the hills, to the home of his broken hope, and there ended his + days in solitude, save for the attendance of two faithful friends who + would not abandon him even in the ghostly quiet of the winter when the + pine boughs were heavy with snow and a spectral moon stared at the + panthers shuffling through the white wastes beneath. Of these two Rup + Singh’s ancestor was one. And in his thirty fifth year the Maharao died + and his beauty and strength passed into legend and his kingdom was taken + by another and the jungle crept silently over his Hall of Pleasure and the + story ended. + </p> + <p> + “There was not a memory of the place up there,” Olesen went on. “Certainly + I never heard anything of it when I went up to the Shipki in 1904. But I + had been able to be useful to Rup Singh and he gave me a permit for The + House in the Woods, and I stopped there for a few days’ shooting. I + remember that day so well. I was wandering in the dense woods while my men + got their midday grub, and I missed the trail somehow and found myself in + a part where the trees were dark and thick and the silence heavy as lead. + It was as if the trees were on guard—they stood shoulder to shoulder + and stopped the way. Well, I halted, and had a notion there was something + beyond that made me doubt whether to go on. I must have stood there five + minutes hesitating. Then I pushed on, bruising the thick ferns under my + shooting boots and stooping under the knotted boughs. Suddenly I tramped + out of the jungle into a clearing, and lo and behold a ruined House, with + blocks of marble lying all about it, and carved pillars and a great roof + all being slowly smothered by the jungle. The weirdest thing you ever saw. + I climbed some fallen columns to get a better look, and as I did I saw a + face flash by at the arch of a broken window. I sang out in Hindustani, + but no answer: only the echo from the woods. Somehow that dampened my + ardour, and I didn’t go in to what seemed like a great ruined hall for the + place was so eerie and lonely, and looked mighty snaky into the bargain. + So I came ingloriously away and told Rup Singh. And his whole face + changed. ‘That is The House of Beauty,’ he said. ‘All my life have I + sought it and in vain. For, friend of my soul, a man must lose himself + that he may find himself and what lies beyond, and the trodden path has + ever been my doom. And you who have not sought have seen. Most strange are + the way of the Gods’. Later on I knew this was why he had always gone up + yearly, thinking and dreaming God knows what. He and I tried for the place + together, but in vain and the whole thing is like a dream. Twice he has + let friends of mine stay at The House in the Woods, and I think he won’t + refuse now.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he ever tell you the story?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. I only know what I’ve picked up here. Some horrible mistake about + the Rani that drove the man almost mad with remorse. I’ve heard bits here + and there. There’s nothing so vital as tradition in India.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder’. what really happened.” + </p> + <p> + “That we shall never know. I got a little old picture of the Maharao—said + to be painted by a Pahari artist. It’s not likely to be authentic, but you + never can tell. A Brahman sold it to me that he might complete his + daughter’s dowry, and hated doing it.” + </p> + <p> + “May I see it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why certainly. Not a very good light, but—can do,” as the Chinks + say. + </p> + <p> + He brought it out rolled in silk stuff and I carried it under the hanging + lamp. A beautiful young man indeed, with the air of race these people have + beyond all others;—a cold haughty face, immovably dignified. He sat + with his hands resting lightly on the arms of his chair of State. A + crescent of rubies clasped the folds of the turban and from this sprang an + aigrette scattering splendours. The magnificent hilt of a sword was ready + beside him. The face was not only beautiful but arresting. + </p> + <p> + “A strange picture,” I said. “The artist has captured the man himself. I + can see him trampling on any one who opposed him, and suffering in the + same cold secret way. It ought to be authentic if it isn’t. Don’t you know + any more?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Well—to bed, and tomorrow I’ll see Rup Singh.” + </p> + <p> + I was glad when he returned with the permission. I was to be very careful, + he said, to make no allusion to the lost palace, for two women were + staying at the House in the Woods—a mother and daughter to whom Rup + Singh had granted hospitality because of an obligation he must honor. But + with true Oriental distrust of women he had thought fit to make no + confidence to them. I promised and asked Olesen if he knew them. + </p> + <p> + “Slightly. Canadians of Danish blood like my own. Their name is Ingmar. + Some people think the daughter good-looking. The mother is supposed to be + clever; keen on occult subjects which she came back to India to study. The + husband was a great naturalist and the kindest of men. He almost lived in + the jungle and the natives had all sorts of rumours about his powers. You + know what they are. They said the birds and beasts followed him about. Any + old thing starts a legend.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the connection with Rup Singh?” + </p> + <p> + “He was in difficulties and undeservedly, and Ingmar generously lent him + money at a critical time, trusting to his honour for repayment. Like most + Orientals he never forgets a good turn and would do anything for any of + the family—except trust the women with any secret he valued. The + father is long dead. By the way Rup Singh gave me a queer message for you. + He said; ‘Tell the Sahib these words—“Let him who finds water in the + desert share his cup with him who dies of thirst.” He is certainly getting + very old. I don’t suppose he knew himself what he meant.” + </p> + <p> + I certainly did not. However my way was thus smoothed for me and I took + the upward road, leaving Olesen to the long ungrateful toil of the man who + devotes his life to India without sufficient time or knowledge to make his + way to the inner chambers of her beauty. There is no harder mistress + unless you hold the pass-key to her mysteries, there is none of whom so + little can be told in words but who kindles so deep a passion. Necessity + sometimes takes me from that enchanted land, but when the latest dawns are + shining in my skies I shall make my feeble way back to her and die at her + worshipped feet. So I went up from Kalka. + </p> + <p> + I have never liked Simla. It is beautiful enough—eight thousand feet + up in the grip of the great hills looking toward the snows, the famous + summer home of the Indian Government. Much diplomacy is whispered on + Observatory Hill and many are the lighter diversions of which Mr. Kipling + and lesser men have written. But Simla is also a gateway to many things—to + the mighty deodar forests that clothe the foot-hills of the mountains, to + Kulu, to the eternal snows, to the old, old bridle way that leads up to + the Shipki Pass and the mysteries of Tibet—and to the strange things + told in this story. So I passed through with scarcely a glance at the busy + gayety of the little streets and the tiny shops where the pretty ladies + buy their rouge and powder. I was attended by my servant Ali Khan, a + Mohammedan from Nagpur, sent up with me by Olesen with strong + recommendation. He was a stout walker, so too am I, and an inveterate + dislike to the man-drawn carriage whenever my own legs would serve me + decided me to walk the sixteen miles to the House in the Woods, sending on + the baggage. Ali Khan despatched it and prepared to follow me, the fine + cool air of the hills giving us a zest. + </p> + <p> + “Subhan Alla! (Praise be to God!) the air is sweet!” he said, stepping out + behind me. “What time does the Sahib look to reach the House?” + </p> + <p> + “About five or six. Now, Ali Khan, strike out of the road. You know the + way.” + </p> + <p> + So we struck up into the glorious pine woods, mountains all about us. Here + and there as we climbed higher was a little bank of forgotten snow, but + spring had triumphed and everywhere was the waving grace of maiden-hair + ferns, banks of violets and strangely beautiful little wild flowers. These + woods are full of panthers, but in day time the only precaution necessary + is to take no dog,—a dainty they cannot resist. The air was + exquisite with the sun-warm scent of pines, and here and there the trees + broke away disclosing mighty ranges of hills covered with rich blue + shadows like the bloom on a plum,—the clouds chasing the sunshine + over the mountain sides and the dark green velvet of the robe of pines. I + looked across ravines that did not seem gigantic and yet the villages on + the other side were like a handful of peas, so tremendous was the scale. I + stood now and then to see the rhododendrons, forest trees here with great + trunks and massive boughs glowing with blood-red blossom, and time went by + and I took no count of it, so glorious was the climb. + </p> + <p> + It must have been hours later when it struck me that the sun was getting + low and that by now we should be nearing The House in the Woods. I said as + much to Ali Khan. He looked perplexed and agreed. We had reached a + comparatively level place, the trail faint but apparent, and it surprised + me that we heard no sound of life from the dense wood where our goal must + be. + </p> + <p> + “I know not, Presence,” he said. “May his face be blackened that directed + me. I thought surely I could not miss the way, and yet-” + </p> + <p> + We cast back and could see no trail forking from the one we were on. There + was nothing for it but to trust to luck and push on. But I began to be + uneasy and so was the man. I had stupidly forgotten to unpack my revolver, + and worse, we had no food, and the mountain air is an appetiser, and at + night the woods have their dangers, apart from being absolutely trackless. + We had not met a living being since we left the road and there seemed no + likelihood of asking for directions. I stopped no longer for views but + went steadily on, Ali Khan keeping up a running fire of low-voiced + invocations and lamentations. And now it was dusk and the position + decidedly unpleasant. + </p> + <p> + It was at that moment I saw a woman before us walking lightly and steadily + under the pines. She must have struck into the trail from the side for she + never could have kept before us all the way. A native woman, but wearing + the all-concealing boorka, more like a town dweller than a woman of the + hills. I put on speed and Ali Khan, now very tired, toiled on behind me as + I came up with her and courteously asked the way. Her face was entirely + hidden, but the answering voice was clear and sweet. I made up my mind she + was young, for it had the bird-like thrill of youth. + </p> + <p> + “If the Presence continues to follow this path he will arrive. It is not + far. They wait for him.” + </p> + <p> + That was all. It left me with a desire to see the veiled face. We passed + on and Ali Khan looked fearfully back. + </p> + <p> + “Ajaib! (Wonderful!) A strange place to meet one of the purdah-nashin + (veiled women)” he muttered. “What would she be doing up here in the + heights? She walked like a Khanam (khan’s wife) and I saw the gleam of + gold under the boorka.” + </p> + <p> + I turned with some curiosity as he spoke, and lo! there was no human being + in sight. She had disappeared from the track behind us and it was + impossible to say where. The darkening trees were beginning to hold the + dusk and it seemed unimaginable that a woman should leave the way and take + to the dangers of the woods. + </p> + <p> + “Puna-i-Khoda—God protect us!” said Ali Khan in a shuddering + whisper. “She was a devil of the wilds. Press on, Sahib. We should not be + here in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing else to do. We made the best speed we could, and the + trees grew more dense and the trail fainter between the close trunks, and + so the night came bewildering with the expectation that we must pass the + night unfed and unarmed in the cold of the heights. They might send out a + search party from The House in the Woods—that was still a hope, if + there were no other. And then, very gradually and wonderfully the moon + dawned over the tree tops and flooded the wood with mysterious silver + lights and about her rolled the majesty of the stars. We pressed on into + the heart of the night. From the dense black depths we emerged at last. An + open glade lay before us—the trees falling back to right and left to + disclose—what? + </p> + <p> + A long low house of marble, unlit, silent, bathed in pale splendour and + shadow. About it stood great deodars, clothed in clouds of the white + blossoming clematis, ghostly and still. Acacias hung motionless trails of + heavily scented bloom as if carved in ivory. It was all silent as death. A + flight of nobly sculptured steps led up to a broad veranda and a wide open + door with darkness behind it. Nothing more. + </p> + <p> + I forced myself to shout in Hindustani—the cry seeming a brutal + outrage upon the night, and an echo came back numbed in the black woods. I + tried once more and in vain. We stood absorbed also into the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Ya Alla! it is a house of the dead!” whispered Ali Khan, shuddering at my + shoulder,—and even as the words left his lips I understood where we + were. “It is the Sukh Mandir.” I said. “It is the House of the Maharao of + Ranipur.” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible to be in Ranipur and hear nothing of the dead house of + the forest and Ali Khan had heard—God only knows what tales. In his + terror all discipline, all the inborn respect of the native forsook him, + and without word or sign he turned and fled along the track, crashing + through the forest blind and mad with fear. It would have been insanity to + follow him, and in India the first rule of life is that the Sahib shows no + fear, so I left him to his fate whatever it might be, believing at the + same time that a little reflection and dread of the lonely forest would + bring him to heel quickly. + </p> + <p> + I stood there and the stillness flowed like water about me. It was as + though I floated upon it—bathed in quiet. My thoughts adjusted + themselves. Possibly it was not the Sukh Mandir. Olesen had spoken of + ruin. I could see none. At least it was shelter from the chill which is + always present at these heights when the sun sets,—and it was + beautiful as a house not made with hands. There was a sense of awe but no + fear as I went slowly up the great steps and into the gloom beyond and so + gained the hall. + </p> + <p> + The moon went with me and from a carven arch filled with marble tracery + rained radiance that revealed and hid. Pillars stood about me, wonderful + with horses ramping forward as in the Siva Temple at Vellore. They + appeared to spring from the pillars into the gloom urged by invisible + riders, the effect barbarously rich and strange—motion arrested, + struck dumb in a violent gesture, and behind them impenetrable darkness. I + could not see the end of this hall—for the moon did not reach it, + but looking up I beheld the walls fretted in great panels into the utmost + splendour of sculpture, encircling the stories of the Gods amid a twining + and under-weaving of leaves and flowers. It was more like a temple than a + dwelling. Siva, as Nataraja the Cosmic Dancer, the Rhythm of the Universe, + danced before me, flinging out his arms in the passion of creation. Kama, + the Indian Eros, bore his bow strung with honey-sweet black bees that + typify the heart’s desire. Krishna the Beloved smiled above the + herd-maidens adoring at his feet. Ganesha the Elephant-Headed, sat in + massive calm, wreathing his wise trunk about him. And many more. But all + these so far as I could see tended to one centre panel larger than any, + representing two life-size figures of a dim beauty. At first I could + scarcely distinguish one from the other in the upward-reflected light, and + then, even as I stood, the moving moon revealed the two as if floating in + vapor. At once I recognized the subject—I had seen it already in the + ruined temple of Ranipur, though the details differed. Parvati, the Divine + Daughter of the Himalaya, the Emanation of the mighty mountains, seated + upon a throne, listening to a girl who played on a Pan pipe before her. + The goddess sat, her chin leaned upon her hand, her shoulders slightly + inclined in a pose of gentle sweetness, looking down upon the girl at her + feet, absorbed in the music of the hills and lonely places. A band of + jewels, richly wrought, clasped the veil on her brows, and below the bare + bosom a glorious girdle clothed her with loops and strings and tassels of + jewels that fell to her knees—her only garment. + </p> + <p> + The girl was a lovely image of young womanhood, the proud swell of the + breast tapering to the slim waist and long limbs easily folded as she half + reclined at the divine feet, her lips pressed to the pipe. Its silent + music mysteriously banished fear. The sleep must be sweet indeed that + would come under the guardianship of these two fair creatures—their + gracious influence was dewy in the air. I resolved that I would spend the + night beside them. Now with the march of the moon dim vistas of the walls + beyond sprang into being. Strange mythologies—the incarnations of + Vishnu the Preserver, the Pastoral of Krishna the Beautiful. I promised + myself that next day I would sketch some of the loveliness about me. But + the moon was passing on her way—I folded the coat I carried into a + pillow and lay down at the feet of the goddess and her nymph. Then a + moonlit quiet I slept in a dream of peace. + </p> + <p> + Sleep annihilates time. Was it long or short when I woke like a man + floating up to the surface from tranquil deeps? That I cannot tell, but + once more I possessed myself and every sense was on guard. + </p> + <p> + My hearing first. Bare feet were coming, falling softly as leaves, but + unmistakable. There was a dim whispering but I could hear no word. I rose + on my elbow and looked down the long hall. Nothing. The moonlight lay in + pools of light and seas of shadow on the floor, and the feet drew nearer. + Was I afraid? I cannot tell, but a deep expectation possessed me as the + sound grew like the rustle of grasses parted in a fluttering breeze, and + now a girl came swiftly up the steps, irradiate in the moonlight, and + passing up the hall stood beside me. I could see her robe, her feet bare + from the jungle, but her face wavered and changed and re-united like the + face of a dream woman. I could not fix it for one moment, yet knew this + was the messenger for whom I had waited all my life—for whom one + strange experience, not to be told at present, had prepared me in early + manhood. Words came, and I said: + </p> + <p> + “Is this a dream?” + </p> + <p> + “No. We meet in the Ninth Vibration. All here is true.” + </p> + <p> + “Is a dream never true?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes it is the echo of the Ninth Vibration and therefore a harmonic + of truth. You are awake now. It is the day-time that is the sleep of the + soul. You are in the Lower Perception, wherein the truth behind the veil + of what men call Reality is perceived.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I ascend?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell. That is for you, not me. + </p> + <p> + “What do I perceive tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “The Present as it is in the Eternal. Say no more. Come with me.” + </p> + <p> + She stretched her hand and took mine with the assurance of a goddess, and + we went up the hall where the night had been deepest between the great + pillars. + </p> + <p> + Now it is very clear to me that in every land men, when the doors of + perception are opened, will see what we call the Supernatural clothed in + the image in which that country has accepted it. Blake, the mighty mystic, + will see the Angels of the Revelation, driving their terrible way above + Lambeth—it is not common nor unclean. The fisherman, plying his + coracle on the Thames will behold the consecration of the great new Abbey + of Westminster celebrated with mass and chant and awful lights in the dead + mid-noon of night by that Apostle who is the Rock of the Church. Before + him who wanders in Thessaly Pan will brush the dewy lawns and slim-girt + Artemis pursue the flying hart. In the pale gold of Egyptian sands the + heavy brows of Osiris crowned with the pshent will brood above the seer + and the veil of Isis tremble to the lifting. For all this is the rhythm to + which the souls of men are attuned and in that vibration they will see, + and no other, since in this the very mountains and trees of the land are + rooted. So here, where our remote ancestors worshipped the Gods of Nature, + we must needs stand before the Mystic Mother of India, the divine daughter + of the Himalaya. + </p> + <p> + How shall I describe the world we entered? The carvings upon the walls had + taken life—they had descended. It was a gathering of the dreams men + have dreamed here of the Gods, yet most real and actual. They watched in a + serenity that set them apart in an atmosphere of their own—forms of + indistinct majesty and august beauty, absolute, simple, and everlasting. I + saw them as one sees reflections in rippled water—no more. But all + faces turned to the place where now a green and flowering leafage + enshrined and partly hid the living Nature Goddess, as she listened to a + voice that was not dumb to me. I saw her face only in glimpses of an + indescribable sweetness, but an influence came from her presence like the + scent of rainy pine forests, the coolness that breathes from great rivers, + the passion of Spring when she breaks on the world with a wave of flowers. + Healing and life flowed from it. Understanding also. It seemed I could + interpret the very silence of the trees outside into the expression of + their inner life, the running of the green life-blood in their veins, the + delicate trembling of their finger-tips. + </p> + <p> + My companion and I were not heeded. We stood hand in hand like children + who have innocently strayed into a palace, gazing in wonderment. The + august life went its way upon its own occasions, and, if we would, we + might watch. Then the voice, clear and cold, proceeding, as it were, with + some story begun before we had strayed into the Presence, the whole + assembly listening in silence. + </p> + <p> + “—and as it has been so it will be, for the Law will have the blind + soul carried into a body which is a record of the sins it has committed, + and will not suffer that soul to escape from rebirth into bodies until it + has seen the truth—” + </p> + <p> + And even as this was said and I listened, knowing myself on the verge of + some great knowledge, I felt sleep beginning to weigh upon my eyelids. The + sound blurred, flowed unsyllabled as a stream, the girl’s hand grew light + in mine; she was fading, becoming unreal; I saw her eyes like faint stars + in a mist. They were gone. Arms seemed to receive me—to lay me to + sleep and I sank below consciousness, and the night took me. + </p> + <p> + When I awoke the radiant arrows of the morning were shooting into the long + hall where I lay, but as I rose and looked about me, strange—most + strange, ruin encircled me everywhere. The blue sky was the roof. What I + had thought a palace lost in the jungle, fit to receive its King should he + enter, was now a broken hall of State; the shattered pillars were + festooned with waving weeds, the many coloured lantana grew between the + fallen blocks of marble. Even the sculptures on the walls were difficult + to decipher. Faintly I could trace a hand, a foot, the orb of a woman’s + bosom, the gracious outline of some young God, standing above a crouching + worshipper. No more. Yes, and now I saw above me as the dawn touched it + the form of the Dweller in the Windhya Hills, Parvati the Beautiful, + leaning softly over something breathing music at her feet. Yet I knew I + could trace the almost obliterated sculpture only because I had already + seen it defined in perfect beauty. A deep crack ran across the marble; it + was weathered and stained by many rains, and little ferns grew in the + crevices, but I could reconstruct every line from my own knowledge. And + how? The Parvati of Ranipur differed in many important details. She stood, + bending forward, wheras this sweet Lady sat. Her attendants were small + satyr-like spirits of the wilds, piping and fluting, in place of the + reclining maiden. The sweeping scrolls of a great halo encircled her whole + person. Then how could I tell what this nearly obliterated carving had + been? I groped for the answer and could not find it. I doubted— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Were such things here as we do speak about? + Or have we eaten of the insane root + That takes the reason captive?” + </pre> + <p> + Memory rushed over me like the sea over dry sands. A girl—there had + been a girl—we had stood with clasped hands to hear a strange music, + but in spite of the spiritual intimacy of those moments I could not recall + her face. I saw it cloudy against a background of night and dream, the + eyes remote as stars, and so it eluded me. Only her presence and her words + survived; “We meet in the Ninth Vibration. All here is true.” But the + Ninth Vibration itself was dream-land. I had never heard the phrase—I + could not tell what was meant, nor whether my apprehension was true or + false. I knew only that the night had taken her and the dawn denied her, + and that, dream or no dream, I stood there with a pang of loss that even + now leaves me wordless. + </p> + <p> + A bird sang outside in the acacias, clear and shrill for day, and this + awakened my senses and lowered me to the plane where I became aware of + cold and hunger, and was chilled with dew. I passed down the tumbled steps + that had been a stately ascent the night before and made my way into the + jungle by the trail, small and lost in fern, by which we had come. Again I + wandered, and it was high noon before I heard mule bells at a distance, + and, thus guided, struck down through the green tangle to find myself, + wearied but safe, upon the bridle way that leads to Fagu and the far + Shipki. Two coolies then directed me to The House in the Woods. + </p> + <p> + All was anxiety there. Ali Khan had arrived in the night, having found his + way under the guidance of blind flight and fear. He had brought the news + that I was lost in the jungle and amid the dwellings of demons. It was, of + course, hopeless to search in the dark, though the khansamah and his man + had gone as far as they dared with lanterns and shouting, and with the + daylight they tried again and were even now away. It was useless to + reproach the man even if I had cared to do so. His ready plea was that as + far as men were concerned he was as brave as any (which was true enough as + I had reason to know later) but that when it came to devilry the Twelve + Imaums themselves would think twice before facing it. + </p> + <p> + “Inshalla ta-Alla! (If the sublime God wills!) this unworthy one will one + day show the Protector of the poor, that he is a respectable person and no + coward, but it is only the Sahibs who laugh in the face of devils.” + </p> + <p> + He went off to prepare me some food, consumed with curiosity as to my + adventures, and when I had eaten I found my tiny whitewashed cell, for the + room was little more, and slept for hours. + </p> + <p> + Late in the afternoon I waked and looked out. A low but glowing sunlight + suffused the wild garden reclaimed from the strangle-hold of the jungle + and hemmed in with rocks and forest. A few simple flowers had been planted + here and there, but its chief beauty was a mountain stream, brown and + clear as the eyes of a dog, that fell from a crag above into a rocky + basin, maidenhair ferns growing in such masses about it that it was + henceforward scarcely more than a woodland voice. Beside it two great + deodars spread their canopies, and there a woman sat in a low chair, a + girl beside her reading aloud. She had thrown her hat off and the sunshine + turned her massed dark hair to bronze. That was all I could see. I went + out and joined them, taking the note of introduction which Olesen had + given me. + </p> + <p> + I pass over the unessentials of my story; their friendly greetings and + sympathy for my adventure. It set us at ease at once and I knew my stay + would be the happier for their presence though it is not every woman one + would choose as a companion in the great mountain country. But what is + germane to my purpose must be told, and of this a part is the personality + of Brynhild Ingmar. That she was beautiful I never doubted, though I have + heard it disputed and smiled inwardly as the disputants urged lip and + cheek and shades of rose and lily, weighing and appraising. Let me + describe her as I saw her or, rather, as I can, adding that even without + all this she must still have been beautiful because of the deep + significance to those who had eyes to see or feel some mysterious element + which mingled itself with her presence comparable only to the delight + which the power and spiritual essence of Nature inspires in all but the + dullest minds. I know I cannot hope to convey this in words. It means + little if I say I thought of all quiet lovely solitary things when I + looked into her calm eyes,—that when she moved it was like clear + springs renewed by flowing, that she seemed the perfect flowering of a day + in June, for these are phrases. Does Nature know her wonders when she + shines in her strength? Does a woman know the infinite meanings her beauty + may have for the beholder? I cannot tell. Nor can I tell if I saw this + girl as she may have seemed to those who read only the letter of the book + and are blind to its spirit, or in the deepest sense as she really was in + the sight of That which created her and of which she was a part. Surely it + is a proof of the divinity of love that in and for a moment it lifts the + veil of so-called reality and shows each to the other mysteriously perfect + and inspiring as the world will never see them, but as they exist in the + Eternal, and in the sight of those who have learnt that the material is + but the dream, and the vision of love the truth. + </p> + <p> + I will say then, for the alphabet of what I knew but cannot tell, that she + had the low broad brows of a Greek Nature Goddess, the hair swept back + wing-like from the temples and massed with a noble luxuriance. It lay like + rippled bronze, suggesting something strong and serene in its essence. Her + eyes were clear and gray as water, the mouth sweetly curved above a + resolute chin. It was a face which recalled a modelling in marble rather + than the charming pastel and aquarelle of a young woman’s colouring, and + somehow I thought of it less as the beauty of a woman than as some sexless + emanation of natural things, and this impression was strengthened by her + height and the long limbs, slender and strong as those of some youth + trained in the pentathlon, subject to the severest discipline until all + that was superfluous was fined away and the perfect form expressing the + true being emerged. The body was thus more beautiful than the face, and I + may note in passing that this is often the case, because the face is more + directly the index of the restless and unhappy soul within and can attain + true beauty only when the soul is in harmony with its source. + </p> + <p> + She was a little like her pale and wearied mother. She might resemble her + still more when the sorrow of this world that worketh death should have + had its will of her. I had yet to learn that this would never be—that + she had found the open door of escape. + </p> + <p> + We three spent much time together in the days that followed. I never tired + of their company and I think they did not tire of mine, for my wanderings + through the world and my studies in the ancient Indian literatures and + faiths with the Pandit Devaswami were of interest to them both though in + entirely different ways. Mrs. Ingmar was a woman who centred all her + interests in books and chiefly in the scientific forms of occult research. + She was no believer in anything outside the range of what she called human + experience. The evidences had convinced her of nothing but a force as yet + unclassified in the scientific categories and all her interest lay in the + undeveloped powers of brain which might be discovered in the course of + ignorant and credulous experiment. We met therefore on the common ground + of rejection of the so-called occultism of the day, though I knew even + then, and how infinitely better now, that her constructions were wholly + misleading. + </p> + <p> + Nearly all day she would lie in her chair under the deodars by the + delicate splash and ripple of the stream. Living imprisoned in the crystal + sphere of the intellect she saw the world outside, painted in few but + distinct colours, small, comprehensible, moving on a logical orbit. I + never knew her posed for an explanation. She had the contented atheism of + a certain type of French mind and found as much ease in it as another kind + of sweet woman does in her rosary and confessional. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot interest Brynhild,” she said, when I knew her better. “She has + no affinity with science. She is simply a nature worshipper, and in such + places as this she seems to draw life from the inanimate life about her. I + have sometimes wondered whether she might not be developed into a kind of + bridge between the articulate and the inarticulate, so well does she + understand trees and flowers. Her father was like that—he had all + sorts of strange power with animals and plants, and thought he had more + than he had. He could never realize that the energy of nature is merely + mechanical.” + </p> + <p> + “You think all energy is mechanical?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. We shall lay our finger on the mainspring one day and the + mystery will disappear. But as for Brynhild—I gave her the best + education possible and yet she has never understood the conception of a + universe moving on mathematical laws to which we must submit in body and + mind. She has the oddest ideas. I would not willingly say of a child of + mine that she is a mystic, and yet—” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head compassionately. But I scarcely heard. My eyes were + fixed on Brynhild, who stood apart, looking steadily out over the snows. + It was a glorious sunset, the west vibrating with gorgeous colour spilt + over in torrents that flooded the sky, Terrible splendours—hues for + which we have no thought—no name. I had not thought of it as music + until I saw her face but she listened as well as saw, and her expression + changed as it changes when the pomp of a great orchestra breaks upon the + silence. It flashed to the chords of blood-red and gold that was burning + fire. It softened through the fugue of woven crimson gold and flame, to + the melancholy minor of ashes-of-roses and paling green, and so through + all the dying glories that faded slowly to a tranquil grey and left the + world to the silver melody of one sole star that dawned above the + ineffable heights of the snows. Then she listened as a child does to a + bird, entranced, with a smile like a butterfly on her parted lips. I never + saw such a power of quiet. + </p> + <p> + She and I were walking next day among the forest ways, the pine-scented + sunshine dappling the dropped frondage. We had been speaking of her + mother. “It is such a misfortune for her,” she said thoughtfully, “that I + am not clever. She should have had a daughter who could have shared her + thoughts. She analyses everything, reasons about everything, and that is + quite out of my reach.” + </p> + <p> + She moved beside me with her wonderful light step—the poise and + balance of a nymph in the Parthenon frieze. + </p> + <p> + “How do you see things?” + </p> + <p> + “See? That is the right word. I see things—I never reason about + them. They are. For her they move like figures in a sum. For me every one + of them is a window through which one may look to what is beyond.” + </p> + <p> + “To where?” + </p> + <p> + “To what they really are—not what they seem.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at her with interest. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear of the double vision?” + </p> + <p> + For this is a subject on which the spiritually learned men of India, like + the great mystics of all the faiths, have much to say. I had listened with + bewilderment and doubt to the expositions of my Pandit on this very head. + Her simple words seemed for a moment the echo of his deep and searching + thought. Yet it surely could not be. Impossible. + </p> + <p> + “Never. What does it mean?” She raised clear unveiled eyes. “You must + forgive me for being so stupid, but it is my mother who is at home with + all these scientific phrases. I know none of them.” + </p> + <p> + “It means that for some people the material universe—the things we + see with our eyes—is only a mirage, or say, a symbol, which either + hides or shadows forth the eternal truth. And in that sense they see + things as they really are, not as they seem to the rest of us. And whether + this is the statement of a truth or the wildest of dreams, I cannot tell.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer for a moment; then said; + </p> + <p> + “Are there people who believe this—know it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. There are people who believe that thought is the only real + thing—that the whole universe is thought made visible. That we + create with our thoughts the very body by which we shall re-act on the + universe in lives to be. + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. Do you?” + </p> + <p> + She paused; looked at me, and then went on: + </p> + <p> + “You see, I don’t think things out. I only feel. But this cannot interest + you.” + </p> + <p> + I felt she was eluding the question. She began to interest me more than + any one I had ever known. She had extraordinary power of a sort. Once, in + the woods, where I was reading in so deep a shade that she never saw me, I + had an amazing vision of her. She stood in a glade with the sunlight and + shade about her; she had no hat and a sunbeam turned her hair to pale + bronze. A small bright April shower was falling through the sun, and she + stood in pure light that reflected itself in every leaf and grass-blade. + But it was nothing of all this that arrested me, beautiful as it was. She + stood as though life were for the moment suspended;—then, very + softly, she made a low musical sound, infinitely wooing, from scarcely + parted lips, and instantly I saw a bird of azure plumage flutter down and + settle on her shoulder, pluming himself there in happy security. Again she + called softly and another followed the first. Two flew to her feet, two + more to her breast and hand. They caressed her, clung to her, drew some + joyous influence from her presence. She stood in the glittering rain like + Spring with her birds about her—a wonderful sight. Then, raising one + hand gently with the fingers thrown back she uttered a different note, + perfectly sweet and intimate, and the branches parted and a young deer + with full bright eyes fixed on her advanced and pushed a soft muzzle into + her hand. + </p> + <p> + In my astonishment I moved, however slightly, and the picture broke up. + The deer sprang back into the trees, the birds fluttered up in a hurry of + feathers, and she turned calm eyes upon me, as unstartled as if she had + known all the time that I was there. + </p> + <p> + “You should not have breathed,” she said smiling. “They must have utter + quiet.” + </p> + <p> + I rose up and joined her. + </p> + <p> + “It is a marvel. I can scarcely believe my eyes. How do you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “My father taught me. They come. How can I tell?” + </p> + <p> + She turned away and left me. I thought long over this episode. I recalled + words heard in the place of my studies—words I had dismissed without + any care at the moment. “To those who see, nothing is alien. They move in + the same vibration with all that has life, be it in bird or flower. And in + the Uttermost also, for all things are One. For such there is no death.” + </p> + <p> + That was beyond me still, but I watched her with profound interest. She + recalled also words I had half forgotten— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “There was nought above me and nought below, + My childhood had not learnt to know; + For what are the voices of birds, + Aye, and of beasts, but words, our words,— + Only so much more sweet.” + </pre> + <p> + That might have been written of her. And more. + </p> + <p> + She had found one day in the woods a flower of a sort I had once seen in + the warm damp forests below Darjiling—ivory white and shaped like a + dove in flight. She wore it that evening on her bosom. A week later she + wore what I took to be another. + </p> + <p> + “You have had luck,” I said; “I never heard of such a thing being seen so + high up, and you have found it twice.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is the same.” + </p> + <p> + “The same? Impossible. You found it more than a week ago.” “I know. It is + ten days. Flowers don’t die when one understands them—not as most + people think.” + </p> + <p> + Her mother looked up and said fretfully: + </p> + <p> + “Since she was a child Brynhild has had that odd idea. That flower is dead + and withered. Throw it away, child. It looks hideous.” + </p> + <p> + Was it glamour? What was it? I saw the flower dewy fresh in her bosom She + smiled and turned away. + </p> + <p> + It was that very evening she left the veranda where we were sitting in the + subdued light of a little lamp and passed beyond where the ray cut the + darkness. She went down the perspective of trees to the edge of he + clearing and I rose to follow for it seemed absolutely unsafe that she + should be on the verge of the panther-haunted woods alone. Mrs. Ingmar + turned a page of her book serenely; + </p> + <p> + “She will not like it if you go. I cannot imagine that she should come to + harm. She always goes her own way—light or dark.” + </p> + <p> + I returned to my seat and watched steadfastly. At first I could see + nothing but as my sight adjusted itself I saw her a long way down the + clearing that opened the snows, and quite certainly also I saw something + like a huge dog detach itself from the woods and bound to her feet. It + mingled with her dark dress and I lost it. Mrs. Ingmar said, seeing my + anxiety but nothing else; “Her father was just the same;—he had no + fear of anything that lives. No doubt some people have that power. I have + never seen her attract birds and beasts as he certainly did, but she is + quite as fond of them.” + </p> + <p> + I could not understand her blindness—what I myself had seen raised + questions I found unanswerable, and her mother saw nothing! Which of us + was right? presently she came back slowly and I ventured no word. + </p> + <p> + A woodland sorcery, innocent as the dawn, hovered about her. What was it? + Did the mere love of these creatures make a bond between her soul and + theirs, or was the ancient dream true and could she at times move in the + same vibration? I thought of her as a wood-spirit sometimes, an expression + herself of some passion of beauty in Nature, a thought of snows and starry + nights and flowing rivers made visible in flesh. It is surely when seized + with the urge of some primeval yearning which in man is merely sexual that + Nature conceives her fair forms and manifests them, for there is a + correspondence that runs through all creation. + </p> + <p> + Here I ask myself—Did I love her? In a sense, yes, deeply, but not + in the common reading of the phrase. I have trembled with delight before + the wild and terrible splendour of the Himalayan heights-; low golden + moons have steeped my soul longing, but I did not think of these things as + mine in any narrow sense, nor so desire them. They were Angels of the + Evangel of beauty. So too was she. She had none of the “silken nets and + traps of adamant,” she was no sister of the “girls of mild silver or of + furious gold;”—but fair, strong, and her own, a dweller in the House + of Quiet. I did not covet her. I loved her. + </p> + <p> + Days passed. There came a night when the winds were loosed—no moon, + the stars flickering like blown tapers through driven clouds, the trees + swaying and lamenting. + </p> + <p> + “There will be rain tomorrow.” Mrs. Ingmar said, as we parted for the + night. I closed my door. Some great cat of the woods was crying harshly + outside my window, the sound receding towards the bridle way. I slept in a + dream of tossing seas and ships labouring among them. + </p> + <p> + With the sense of a summons I waked—I cannot tell when. + Unmistakable, as if I were called by name. I rose and dressed, and heard + distinctly bare feet passing my door. I opened it noiselessly and looked + out into the little passage way that made for the entry, and saw nothing + but pools of darkness and a dim light from the square of the window at the + end. But the wind had swept the sky clear with its flying bosom and was + sleeping now in its high places and the air was filled with a mild moony + radiance and a great stillness. + </p> + <p> + Now let me speak with restraint and exactness. I was not afraid but felt + as I imagine a dog feels in the presence of his master, conscious of a + purpose, a will entirely above his own and incomprehensible, yet to be + obeyed without question. I followed my reading of the command, bewildered + but docile, and understanding nothing but that I was called. + </p> + <p> + The lights were out. The house dead silent; the familiar veranda ghostly + in the night. And now I saw a white figure at the head of the steps—Brynhild. + She turned and looked over her shoulder, her face pale in the moon, and + made the same gesture with which she summoned her birds. I knew her + meaning, for now we were moving in the same rhythm, and followed as she + took the lead. How shall I describe that strange night in the jungle. + There were fire-flies or dancing points of light that recalled them. + Perhaps she was only thinking them—only thinking the moon and the + quiet, for we were in the world where thought is the one reality. But they + went with us in a cloud and faintly lighted our way. There were exquisite + wafts of perfume from hidden flowers breathing their dreams to the night. + Here and there a drowsy bird stirred and chirped from the roof of + darkness, a low note of content that greeted her passing. It was a path + intricate and winding and how long we went, and where, I cannot tell. But + at last she stooped and parting the boughs before her we stepped into an + open space, and before us—I knew it—I knew it!—The House + of Beauty. + </p> + <p> + She paused at the foot of the great marble steps and looked at me. + </p> + <p> + “We have met here already.” + </p> + <p> + I did not wonder—I could not. In the Ninth vibration surprise had + ceased to be. Why had I not recognized her before—O dull of heart! + That was my only thought. We walk blindfold through the profound darkness + of material nature, the blinder because we believe we see it. It is only + when the doors of the material are closed that the world appears to man as + it exists in the eternal truth. + </p> + <p> + “Did you know this?” I asked, trembling before mystery. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it, because I am awake. You forgot it in the dull sleep which we + call daily life. But we were here and THEY began the story of the King who + made this house. Tonight we shall hear it. It he story of Beauty wandering + through the world and the world received her not. We hear it in this place + because here he agonized for what he knew too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that our only meeting?” + </p> + <p> + “We meet every night, but you forget when the day brings the sleep of the + soul.—You do not sink deep enough into rest to remember. You float + on the surface where the little bubbles of foolish dream are about you and + I cannot reach you then.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I compel myself to the deeps?” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot. It will come. But when you have passed up the bridle way and + beyond the Shipki, stop at Gyumur. There is the Monastery of Tashigong, + and there one will meet you— + </p> + <p> + “His name?” + </p> + <p> + “Stephen Clifden. He will tell you what you desire to know. Continue on + then with him to Yarkhand. There in the Ninth Vibration we shall meet + again. It is a long journey but you will be content.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you certainly know that we shall meet again?” + </p> + <p> + “When you have learnt, we can meet when we will. He will teach you the + Laya Yoga. You should not linger here in the woods any longer. You should + go on. In three days it will be possible.” + </p> + <p> + “But how have you learnt—a girl and young?” + </p> + <p> + “Through a close union with Nature—that is one of the three roads. + But I know little as yet. Now take my hand and come. + </p> + <p> + “One last question. Is this house ruined and abject as I have seen it in + the daylight, or royal and the house of Gods as we see it now? Which is + truth?” + </p> + <p> + “In the day you saw it in the empty illusion of blind thought. Tonight, + eternally lovely as in the thought of the man who made it. Nothing that is + beautiful is lost, though in the sight of the unwise it seems to die. + Death is in the eyes we look through—when they are cleansed we see + Life only. Now take my hand and come. Delay no more.” + </p> + <p> + She caught my hand and we entered the dim magnificence of the great hall. + The moon entered with us. + </p> + <p> + Instantly I had the feeling of supernatural presence. Yet I only write + this in deference to common use, for it was absolutely natural—more + so than any I have met in the state called daily life. It was a thing in + which I had a part, and if this was supernatural so also was I. + </p> + <p> + Again I saw the Dark One, the Beloved, the young Krishna, above the women + who loved him. He motioned with his hand as we passed, as though he waved + us smiling on our way. Again the dancers moved in a rhythmic tread to the + feet of the mountain Goddess—again we followed to where she bent to + hear. But now, solemn listening faces crowded in the shadows about her, + grave eyes fixed immovably upon what lay at her feet—a man, + submerged in the pure light that fell from her presence, his dark face + stark and fine, lips locked, eyes shut, arms flung out cross-wise in utter + abandonment, like a figure of grief invisibly crucified upon his shame. I + stopped a few feet from him, arrested by a barrier I could not pass. Was + it sleep or death or some mysterious state that partook of both? Not + sleep, for there was no flutter of breath. Not death—no rigid + immobility struck chill into the air. It was the state of subjection where + the spirit set free lies tranced in the mighty influences which surround + us invisibly until we have entered, though but for a moment, the Ninth + Vibration. + </p> + <p> + And now, with these Listeners about us, a clear voice began and stirred + the air with music. I have since been asked in what tongue it spoke and + could only answer that it reached my ears in the words of my childhood, + and that I know whatever that language had been it would so have reached + me. + </p> + <p> + “Great Lady, hear the story of this man’s fall, for it is the story of + man. Be pitiful to the blind eyes and give them light.” + </p> + <p> + There was long since in Ranipur a mighty King and at his birth the wise + men declared that unless he cast aside all passions that debase the soul, + relinquishing the lower desires for the higher until a Princess laden with + great gifts should come to be his bride, he would experience great and + terrible misfortunes. And his royal parents did what they could to possess + him with this belief, but they died before he reached manhood. Behold him + then, a young King in his palace, surrounded with splendour. How should he + withstand the passionate crying of the flesh or believe that through + pleasure comes satiety and the loss of that in the spirit whereby alone + pleasure can be enjoyed? For his gift was that he could win all hearts. + They swarmed round him like hiving bees and hovered about him like + butterflies. Sometimes he brushed them off. Often he caressed them, and + when this happened, each thought proudly “I am the Royal Favourite. There + is none other than me.” + </p> + <p> + Also the Princess delayed who would be the crest-jewel of the crown, + bringing with her all good and the blessing of the High Gods, and in + consequence of all these things the King took such pleasures as he could, + and they were many, not knowing they darken the inner eye whereby what is + royal is known through disguises. + </p> + <p> + (Most pitiful to see, beneath the close-shut lids of the man at the feet + of the Dweller in the Heights, tears forced themselves, as though a corpse + dead to all else lived only to anguish. They flowed like blood-drops upon + his face as he lay enduring, and the voice proceeded.) What was the charm + of the King? Was it his stately height and strength? Or his faithless + gayety? Or his voice, deep and soft as the sitar when it sings of love? + His women said—some one thing, some another, but none of these + ladies were of royal blood, and therefore they knew not. + </p> + <p> + Now one day, the all-privileged jester of the King, said, laughing + harshly: + </p> + <p> + “Maharaj, you divert yourself. But how if, while we feast and play, the + Far Away Princess glided past and was gone, unknown and unwelcomed?” + </p> + <p> + And the King replied: + </p> + <p> + “Fool, content yourself. I shall know my Princess, but she delays so long + that I weary.” + </p> + <p> + Now in a far away country was a Princess, daughter of the Greatest, and + her Father hesitated to give her in marriage to such a King for all + reported that he was faithless of heart, but having seen his portrait she + loved him and fled in disguise from the palaces of her Father, and being + captured she was brought before the King in Ranipur. + </p> + <p> + He sat upon a cloth of gold and about him was the game he had killed in + hunting, in great masses of ruffled fur and plumage, and he turned the + beauty of his face carelessly upon her, and as the Princess looked upon + him, her heart yearned to him, and he said in his voice that was like the + male string of the sitar: + </p> + <p> + “Little slave, what is your desire?” + </p> + <p> + Then she saw that the long journey had scarred her feet and dimmed her + hair with dust, and that the King’s eyes, worn with days and nights of + pleasure did not pierce her disguise. Now in her land it is a custom that + the blood royal must not proclaim itself, so she folded her hands and said + gently: + </p> + <p> + “A place in the household of the King.” And he, hearing that the Waiting + slave of his chief favorite Jayashri was dead, gave her that place. So the + Princess attended on those ladies, courteous and obedient to all authority + as beseemed her royalty, and she braided her bright hair so that it hid + the little crowns which the Princesses of her House must wear always in + token of their rank, and every day her patience strengthened. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes the King, carelessly desiring her laughing face and sad eyes, + would send for her to wile away an hour, and he would say; “Dance, little + slave, and tell me stories of the far countries. You quite unlike my + Women, doubtless because you are a slave.” + </p> + <p> + And she thought—“No, but because I am a Princess,”—but this + she did not say. She laughed and told him the most marvellous stories in + the world until he laid his head upon her warm bosom, dreaming awake. + </p> + <p> + There were stories of the great Himalayan solitudes where in the winter + nights the white tiger stares at the witches’ dance of the Northern Lights + dazzled by the hurtling of their myriad spears. And she told how the + King-eagle, hanging motionless over the peaks of Gaurisankar, watches with + golden eyes for his prey, and falling like a plummet strikes its life out + with his clawed heel and, screaming with triumph, bears it to his fierce + mate in her cranny of the rocks. + </p> + <p> + “A gallant story!” the King would say. “More!” Then she told of the + tropical heats and the stealthy deadly creatures of forest and jungle, and + the blue lotus of Buddha swaying on the still lagoon,—And she spoke + of loves of men and women, their passion and pain and joy. And when she + told of their fidelity and valour and honour that death cannot quench, her + voice was like the song of a minstrel, for she had read all the stories of + the ages and the heart of a Princess told her the rest. And the King + listened unwearying though he believed this was but a slave. + </p> + <p> + (The face of the man at the feet of the Dweller in the Heights twitched in + a white agony. Pearls of sweat were distilled upon his brows, but he moved + neither hand nor foot, enduring as in a flame of fire. And the voice + continued.) + </p> + <p> + So one day, in the misty green of the Spring, while she rested at his feet + in the garden Pavilion, he said to her: + </p> + <p> + “Little slave, why do you love me?” + </p> + <p> + And she answered proudly: + </p> + <p> + “Because you have the heart of a King.” + </p> + <p> + He replied slowly; + </p> + <p> + “Of the women who have loved me none gave this reason, though they gave + many.” + </p> + <p> + She laid her cheek on his hand. + </p> + <p> + “That is the true reason.” + </p> + <p> + But he drew it away and was vaguely troubled, for her words, he knew not + why, reminded him of the Far Away Princess and of things he had long + forgotten, and he said; “What does a slave know of the hearts of Kings?” + And that night he slept or waked alone. + </p> + <p> + Winter was at hand with its blue and cloudless days, and she was commanded + to meet the King where the lake lay still and shining like an ecstasy of + bliss, and she waited with her chin dropped into the cup of her hands, + looking over the water with eyes that did not see, for her whole soul + said; “How long O my Sovereign Lord, how long before you know the truth + and we enter together into our Kingdom?” + </p> + <p> + As she sat she heard the King’s step, and the colour stole up into her + face in a flush like the earliest sunrise. “He is coming,” she said; and + again; “He loves me.” + </p> + <p> + So he came beside the water, walking slowly. But the King was not alone. + His arm embraced the latest-come beauty from Samarkhand, and, with his + head bent, he whispered in her willing ear. + </p> + <p> + Then clasping her hands, the Princess drew a long sobbing breath, and he + turned and his eyes grew hard as blue steel. + </p> + <p> + “Go, slave,” he cried. “What place have you in Kings’ gardens? Go. Let me + see you no more.” + </p> + <p> + (The man lying at the feet of the Dweller in the Heights, raised a heavy + arm and flung it above his head, despairing, and it fell again on the + cross of his torment. And the voice went on.) + </p> + <p> + And as he said this, her heart broke; and she went and her feet were + weary. So she took the wise book she loved and unrolled it until she came + to a certain passage, and this she read twice; “If the heart of a slave be + broken it may be mended with jewels and soft words, but the heart of a + Princess can be healed only by the King who broke it, or in Yamapura, the + City under the Sunset where they make all things new. Now, Yama, the Lord + of this City, is the Lord of Death.” And having thus read the Princess + rolled the book and put it from her. + </p> + <p> + And next day, the King said to his women; “Send for her,” for his heart + smote him and he desired to atone royally for the shame of his speech. And + they sought and came back saying; + </p> + <p> + “Maharaj, she is gone. We cannot find her.” + </p> + <p> + Fear grew in the heart of the King—a nameless dread, and he said, + “Search.” And again they sought and returned and the King was striding up + and down the great hall and none dared cross his path. But, trembling, + they told him, and he replied; “Search again. I will not lose her, and, + slave though be, she shall be my Queen.” + </p> + <p> + So they ran, dispersing to the Four Quarters, and King strode up and down + the hall, and Loneliness kept step with him and clasped his hand and + looked his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Then the youngest of the women entered with a tale to tell. “Majesty, we + have found her. She lies beside the lake. When the birds fled this morning + she fled with them, but upon a longer journey. Even to Yamapura, the City + under the Sunset.” + </p> + <p> + And the King said; “Let none follow.” And he strode forth swiftly, white + with thoughts he dared not think. + </p> + <p> + The Princess lay among the gold of the fallen leaves. All was gold, for + her bright hair was out-spread in shining waves and in it shone the glory + of the hidden crown. On her face was no smile—only at last was + revealed the patience she had covered with laughter so long that even the + voice of the King could not now break it into joy. The hands that had + clung, the swift feet that had run beside his, the tender body, mighty to + serve and to love, lay within touch but farther away than the uttermost + star was the Far Away Princess, known and loved too late. + </p> + <p> + And he said; “My Princess—O my Princess!” and laid his head on her + cold bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Too late!” a harsh Voice croaked beside him, and it was the voice of the + Jester who mocks at all things. “Too late! O madness, to despise the blood + royal because it humbled itself to service and so was doubly royal. The + Far Away Princess came laden with great gifts, and to her the King’s gift + was the wage of a slave and a broken heart. Cast your crown and sceptre in + the dust, O King—O King of Fools.” + </p> + <p> + (The man at the feet of the Dweller in the Heights moved. Some dim word + shaped upon his locked lips. She listened in a divine calm. It seemed that + the very Gods drew nearer. Again the man essayed speech, the body dead, + life only in the words that none could hear. The voice went on.) + </p> + <p> + But the Princess flying wearily because of the sore wound in her heart, + came at last to the City under the Sunset, where the Lord of Death rules + in the House of Quiet, and was there received with royal honours for in + that land are no disguises. And she knelt before the Secret One and in a + voice broken with agony entreated him to heal her. And with veiled and + pitying eyes he looked upon her, for many and grievous as are the wounds + he has healed this was more grievous still. And he said; + </p> + <p> + “Princess, I cannot, But this I can do—I can give a new heart in a + new birth—happy and careless as the heart of a child. Take this + escape from the anguish you endure and be at peace.” + </p> + <p> + But the Princess, white with pain, asked only; + </p> + <p> + “In this new heart and birth, is there room for the King?” + </p> + <p> + And the Lord of Peace replied; + </p> + <p> + “None. He too will be forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + Then she rose to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “I will endure and when he comes I will serve him once more. If he will he + shall heal me, and if not I will endure for ever.” + </p> + <p> + And He who is veiled replied; + </p> + <p> + “In this sacred City no pain may disturb the air, therefore you must wait + outside in the chill and the dark. Think better, Princess! Also, he must + pass through many rebirths, because he beheld the face of Beauty unveiled + and knew her not. And when he comes he will be weary and weak as a + new-born child, and no more a great King.” And the Princess smiled; + </p> + <p> + “Then he will need me the more,” she said; “I will wait and kiss the feet + of my King.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Lord of Death was silent. So she went outside into the darkness + of the spaces, and the souls free passed her like homing doves, and she + sat with her hands clasped over the sore wound in her heart, watching the + earthward way. And the Princess is keeping still the day of her long + patience.” + </p> + <p> + The voice ceased. And there was a great silence, and the listening faces + drew nearer. + </p> + <p> + Then the Dweller in the Heights spoke in a voice soft as the falling of + snow in the quiet of frost and moon. I could have wept myself blind with + joy to hear that music. More I dare not say. + </p> + <p> + “He is in the Lower State of Perception. He sorrows for his loss. Let him + have one instant’s light that still he may hope.” + </p> + <p> + She bowed above the man, gazing upon him as a mother might upon her + sleeping child. The dead eyelids stirred, lifted, a faint gleam showed + beneath them, an unspeakable weariness. I thought they would fall + unsatisfied. Suddenly he saw What looked upon him, and a terror of joy no + tongue can tell flashed over the dark mirror of his face. He stretched a + faint hand to touch her feet, a sobbing sigh died upon his lips, and once + more the swooning sleep took him. He lay as a dead man before the + Assembly. + </p> + <p> + “The night is far spent,” a voice said, from I know not where. And I knew + it was said not only for the sleeper but for all, for though the flying + feet of Beauty seem for a moment to outspeed us she will one day wait our + coming and gather us to her bosom. + </p> + <p> + As before, the vision spread outward like rings in a broken reflection in + water. I saw the girl beside me, but her hand grew light in mine. I felt + it no longer. I heard the roaring wind in the trees, or was it a great + voice thundering in my ears? Sleep took me. I waked in my little room. + </p> + <p> + Strange and sad—I saw her next day and did not remember her whom of + all things I desired to know. I remembered the vision and knew that + whether in dream or waking I had heard an eternal truth. I longed with a + great longing to meet my beautiful companion, and she stood at my side and + I was blind. + </p> + <p> + Now that I have climbed a little higher on the Mount of Vision it seems + even to myself that this could not be. Yet it was, and it is true of not + this only but of how much else! + </p> + <p> + She knew me. I learnt that later, but she made no sign. Her simplicities + had carried her far beyond and above me, to places where only the winged + things attain—“as a bird among the bird-droves of God.” + </p> + <p> + I have since known that this power of direct simplicity in her was why + among the great mountains we beheld the Divine as the emanation of the + terrible beauty about us. We cannot see it as it is—only in some + shadowing forth, gathering sufficient strength for manifestation from the + spiritual atoms that haunt the region where that form has been for ages + the accepted vehicle of adoration. But I was now to set forth to find + another knowledge—to seek the Beauty that blinds us to all other. + Next day the man who was directing my preparations for travel sent me word + from Simla that all was ready and I could start two days later. I told my + friends the time of parting was near. + </p> + <p> + “But it was no surprise to me,” I added, “for I had heard already that in + a very few days I should be on my way.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ingmar was more than kind. She laid a frail hand on mine. + </p> + <p> + “We shall miss you indeed. If it is possible to send us word of your + adventures in those wild solitudes I hope you will do it. Of course + aviation will soon lay bare their secrets and leave them no mysteries, so + you don’t go too soon. One may worship science and yet feel it injures the + beauty of the world. But what is beauty compared with knowledge?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you never regret it?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Never, dear Mr. Ormond. I am a worshipper of hard facts and however + hideous they may be I prefer them to the prismatic colours of romance.” + </p> + <p> + Brynhild, smiling, quoted; + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Their science roamed from star to star + And than itself found nothing greater. + What wonder? In a Leyden jar + They bottled the Creator?” + </pre> + <p> + “There is nothing greater than science,” said Mrs. Ingmar with soft + reverence. “The mind of man is the foot-rule of the universe.” + </p> + <p> + She meditated for a moment and then added that my kind interests in their + plans decided her to tell me that she would be returning to Europe and + then to Canada in a few months with a favourite niece as her companion + while Brynhild would remain in India with friends in Mooltan for a time. I + looked eagerly at her but she was lost in her own thoughts and it was + evidently not the time to say more. + </p> + <p> + If I had hoped for a vision before I left the neighbourhood of that + strange House of Beauty where a spirit imprisoned appeared to await the + day of enlightenment I was disappointed. These things do not happen as one + expects or would choose. The wind bloweth where it listeth until the laws + which govern the inner life are understood, and then we would not choose + if we could for we know that all is better than well. In this world, + either in the blinded sight of daily life or in the clarity of the true + sight I have not since seen it, but that has mattered little, for having + heard an authentic word within its walls I have passed on my way + elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + Next day a letter from Olesen reached me. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Ormond, I hope you have had a good time at the House in the Woods. I + saw Rup Singh a few days ago and he wrote the odd message I enclose. You + know what these natives are, even the most sensible of them, and you will + humour the old fellow for he ages very fast and I think is breaking up. + But this was not what I wanted to say. I had a letter from a man I had not + seen for years—a fellow called Stephen Clifden, who lives in + Kashmir. As a matter of fact I had forgotten his existence but evidently + he has not repaid the compliment for he writes as follows—No, I had + better send you the note and you can do as you please. I am rushed off my + legs with work and the heat is hell with the lid off. And-” + </p> + <p> + But the rest was of no interest except to a friend of years’ standing. I + read Rup Singh’s message first. It was written in his own tongue. + </p> + <p> + “To the Honoured One who has attained to the favour of the Favourable. + </p> + <p> + “You have with open eyes seen what this humble one has dreamed but has not + known. If the thing be possible, write me this word that I may depart in + peace. ‘With that one who in a former birth you loved all is well. Fear + nothing for him. The way is long but at the end the lamps of love are lit + and the Unstruck music is sounded. He lies at the feet of Mercy and there + awaits his hour.’ And if it be not possible to write these words, write + nothing, O Honoured, for though it be in the hells my soul shall find my + King, and again I shall serve him as once I served.” + </p> + <p> + I understood, and wrote those words as he had written them. Strange + mystery of life—that I who had not known should see, and that this + man whose fidelity had not deserted his broken King in his utter downfall + should have sought with passion for one sight of the beloved face across + the waters of death and sought in vain. I thought of those Buddhist words + of Seneca—“The soul may be and is in the mass of men drugged and + silenced by the seductions of sense and the deceptions of the world. But + if, in some moment of detachment and elation, when its captors and jailors + relax their guard, it can escape their clutches, it will seek at once the + region of its birth and its true home.” + </p> + <p> + Well—the shell must break before the bird can fly, and the time drew + near for the faithful servant to seek his lord. My message reached him in + time and gladdened him. + </p> + <p> + I turned then to Clifden’s letter. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Olesen, you will have forgotten me, and feeling sure of this I + should scarcely have intruded a letter into your busy life were it not + that I remember your good-nature as a thing unforgettable though so many + years have gone by. I hear of you sometimes when Sleigh comes up the Sind + valley, for I often camp at Sonamarg and above the Zoji La and farther. I + want you to give a message to a man you know who should be expecting to + hear from me. Tell him I shall be at the Tashigong Monastery when he + reaches Gyumur beyond the Shipki. Tell him I have the information he wants + and I will willingly go on with him to Yarkhand and his destination. He + need not arrange for men beyond Gyumur. All is fixed. So sorry to bother + you, old man, but I don’t know Ormond’s address, except that he was with + you and has gone up Simla way. And of course he will be keen to hear the + thing is settled.” + </p> + <p> + Amazing. I remembered the message I had heard and this man’s words rang + true and kindly, but what could it mean? I really did not question farther + than this for now I could not doubt that I was guided. Stronger hands than + mine had me in charge, and it only remained for me to set forth in + confidence and joy to an end that as yet I could not discern. I turned my + face gladly to the wonder of the mountains. + </p> + <p> + Gladly—but with a reservation. I was leaving a friend and one whom I + dimly felt might one day be more than a friend—Brynhild Ingmar. That + problem must be met before I could take my way. I thought much of what + might be said at parting. True, she had the deepest attraction for me, but + true also that I now beheld a quest stretching out into the unknown which + I must accept in the spirit of the knight errant. Dare I then bind my + heart to any allegiance which would pledge me to a future inconsistent + with what lay before me? How could I tell what she might think of the + things which to me were now real and external—the revelation of the + only reality that underlies all the seeming. Life can never be the same + for the man who has penetrated to this, and though it may seem a hard + saying there can be but a maimed understanding between him and those who + still walk amid the phantoms of death and decay. + </p> + <p> + Her sympathy with nature was deep and wonderful but might it not be that + though the earth was eloquent to her the skies were silent? I was but a + beginner myself—I knew little indeed. Dare I risk that little in a + sweet companionship which would sink me into the contentment of the life + lived by the happily deluded between the cradle and the grave and perhaps + close to me for ever that still sphere where my highest hope abides? I had + much to ponder, for how could I lose her out of my life—though I + knew not at all whether she who had so much to make her happiness would + give me a single thought when I was gone. + </p> + <p> + If all this seem the very uttermost of selfish vanity, forgive a man who + grasped in his hand a treasure so new, so wonderful that he walked in fear + and doubt lest it should slip away and leave him in a world darkened for + ever by the torment of the knowledge that it might have been his and he + had bartered it for the mess of pottage that has bought so many + birthrights since Jacob bargained with his weary brother in the tents of + Lahai-roi. I thought I would come back later with my prize gained and + throwing it at her feet ask her wisdom in return, for whatever I might not + know I knew well she was wiser than I except in that one shining of the + light from Eleusis. I walked alone in the woods thinking of these things + and no answer satisfied me. + </p> + <p> + I did not see her alone until the day I left, for I was compelled by the + arrangements I was making to go down to Simla for a night. And now the + last morning had come with golden sun—shot mists rolling upward to + disclose the far white billows of the sea of eternity, the mountains + awaking to their enormous joys. The trees were dripping glory to the + steaming earth; it flowed like rivers into their most secret recesses, + moss and flower, fern and leaf floated upon the waves of light revealing + their inmost soul in triumphant gladness. Far off across the valleys a + cuckoo was calling—the very voice of spring, and in the green world + above my head a bird sang, a feathered joy, so clear, so passionate that I + thought the great summer morning listened in silence to his rapture + ringing through the woods. I waited until the Jubilate was ended and then + went in to bid good-bye to my friends. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ingmar bid me the kindest farewell and I left her serene in the + negation of all beauty, all hope save that of a world run on the lines of + a model municipality, disease a memory, sewerage, light and air systems + perfected, the charted brain sending its costless messages to the outer + parts of the habitable globe, and at least a hundred years of life with a + decent cremation at the end of it assured to every eugenically born + citizen. No more. But I have long ceased to regret that others use their + own eyes whether clear or dim. Better the merest glimmer of light + perceived thus than the hearsay of the revelations of others. And by the + broken fragments of a bewildered hope a man shall eventually reach the + goal and rejoice in that dawn where the morning stars sing together and + the sons of God shout for joy. It must come, for it is already here. + </p> + <p> + Brynhild walked with me through the long glades in the fresh thin air to + the bridle road where my men and ponies waited, eager to be off. We stood + at last in the fringe of trees on a small height which commanded the way;—a + high uplifted path cut along the shoulders of the hills and on the left + the sheer drop of the valleys. Perhaps seven or eight feet in width and + dignified by the name of the Great Hindustan and Tibet Road it ran winding + far away into Wonderland. Looking down into the valleys, so far beneath + that the solitudes seem to wall them in I thought of all the strange + caravans which have taken this way with tinkle of bells and laughter now + so long silenced, and as I looked I saw a lost little monastery in a giant + crevice, solitary as a planet on the outermost ring of the system, and + remembrance flashed into my mind and I said; + </p> + <p> + “I have marching orders that have countermanded my own plans. I am to + journey to the Buddhist Monastery of Tashigong, and there meet a friend + who will tell me what is necessary that I may travel to Yarkhand and + beyond. It will be long before I see Kashmir.” + </p> + <p> + In those crystal clear eyes I saw a something new to me—a faint + smile, half pitying, half sad; + </p> + <p> + “Who told you, and where?” + </p> + <p> + “A girl in a strange place. A woman who has twice guided me—” + </p> + <p> + I broke off. Her smile perplexed me. I could not tell what to say. She + repeated in a soft undertone; + </p> + <p> + “Great Lady, be pitiful to the blind eyes and give them light.” + </p> + <p> + And instantly I knew. O blind—blind! Was the unhappy King of the + story duller of heart than I? And shame possessed me. Here was the + chrysoberyl that all day hides its secret in deeps of lucid green but when + the night comes flames with its fiery ecstasy of crimson to the moon, and + I—I had been complacently considering whether I might not blunt my + own spiritual instinct by companionship with her, while she had been my + guide, as infinitely beyond me in insight as she was in all things + beautiful. I could have kissed her feet in my deep repentance. True it is + that the gateway of the high places is reverence and he who cannot bow his + head shall receive no crown. I saw that my long travel in search of + knowledge would have been utterly vain if I had not learnt that lesson + there and then. In those moments of silence I learnt it once and for ever. + </p> + <p> + She stood by me breathing the liquid morning air, her face turned upon the + eternal snows. I caught her hand in a recognition that might have ended + years of parting, and its warm youth vibrated in mine, the foretaste of + all understanding, all unions, of love that asks nothing, that fears + nothing, that has no petition to make. She raised her eyes to mine and her + tears were a rainbow of hope. So we stood in silence that was more than + any words, and the golden moments went by. I knew her now for what she + was, one of whom it might have been written; + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I come from where night falls clearer + Than your morning sun can rise; + From an earth that to heaven draws nearer + Than your visions of Paradise,— + For the dreams that your dreamers dream + We behold them with open eyes.” + </pre> + <p> + With open eyes! Later I asked the nature of the strange bond that had + called her to my side. + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand that fully myself,” she said—“That is part of + the knowledge we must wait for. But you have the eyes that see, and that + is a tie nothing can break. I had waited long in the House of Beauty for + you. I guided you there. But between you and me there is also love.” + </p> + <p> + I stretched an eager hand but she repelled it gently, drawing back a + little. “Not love of each other though we are friends and in the future + may be infinitely more. But—have you ever seen a drawing of Blake’s—a + young man stretching his arms to a white swan which flies from him on + wings he cannot stay? That is the story of both our lives. We long to be + joined in this life, here and now, to an unspeakable beauty and power + whose true believers we are because we have seen and known. There is no + love so binding as the same purpose. Perhaps that is the only true love. + And so we shall never be apart though we may never in this world be + together again in what is called companionship.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall meet,” I said confidently. She smiled and was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Do we follow a will-o’-the wisp in parting? Do we give up the substance + for the shadow? Shall I stay?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed joyously; + </p> + <p> + “We give a single rose for a rose-tree that bears seven times seven. Daily + I see more, and you are going where you will be instructed. As you know my + mother prefers for a time to have my cousin with her to help her with the + book she means to write. So I shall have time to myself. What do you think + I shall do?” + </p> + <p> + “Blow away on a great wind. Ride on the crests of tossing waves. Catch a + star to light the fireflies!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed like a bird’s song. + </p> + <p> + “Wrong—wrong! I shall be a student. All I know as yet has come to me + by intuition, but there is Law as well as Love and I will learn. I have + drifted like a happy cloud before the wind. Now I will learn to be the + wind that blows the clouds.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at her in astonishment. If a flower had desired the same thing it + could scarcely have seemed more incredible, for I had thought her whole + life and nature instinctive not intellective. She smiled as one who has a + beloved secret to keep. + </p> + <p> + “When you have gained what in this country they call The Knowledge of + Regeneration, come back and ask me what I have learnt.” + </p> + <p> + She would say no more of that and turned to another matter, speaking with + earnestness; + </p> + <p> + “Before you came here I had a message for you, and Stephen Clifden will + tell you the same thing when you meet. Believe it for it is true. Remember + always that the psychical is not the mystical and that what we seek is not + marvel but vision. These two things are very far apart, so let the first + with all its dangers pass you by, for our way lies to the heights, and for + us there is only one danger—that of turning back and losing what the + whole world cannot give in exchange. I have never seen Stephen Clifden but + I know much of him. He is a safe guide—a man who has had much and + strange sorrow which has brought him joy that cannot be told. He will take + you to those who know the things that you desire. I wish I might have gone + too.” + </p> + <p> + Something in the sweetness of her voice, its high passion, the strong + beauty of her presence woke a poignant longing in my heart. I said; + </p> + <p> + “I cannot leave you. You are the only guide I can follow. Let us search + together—you always on before.” + </p> + <p> + “Your way lies there,” she pointed to the high mountains. “And mine to the + plains, and if we chose our own we should wander. But we shall meet again + in the way and time that will be best and with knowledge so enlarged that + what we have seen already will be like an empty dream compared to daylight + truth. If you knew what waits for you you would not delay one moment.” + </p> + <p> + She stood radiant beneath the deodars, a figure of Hope, pointing steadily + to the heights. I knew her words were true though as yet I could not tell + how. I knew that whereas we had seen the Wonderful in beautiful though + local forms there is a plane where the Formless may be apprehended in + clear dream and solemn vision-the meeting of spirit with Spirit. What that + revelation would mean I could not guess—how should I?—but I + knew the illusion we call death and decay would wither before it. There is + a music above and beyond the Ninth Vibration though I must love those + words for ever for what their hidden meaning gave me. + </p> + <p> + I took her hand and held it. Strange—beyond all strangeness that + that story of an ancient sorrow should have made us what we were to each + other—should have opened to me the gates of that Country where she + wandered content. For the first time I had realized in its fulness the + loveliness of this crystal nature, clear as flowing water to receive and + transmit the light—itself a prophecy and fulfilment of some higher + race which will one day inhabit our world when it has learnt the true + values. She drew a flower from her breast and gave it to me. It lies + before me white and living as I write these words. + </p> + <p> + I sprang down the road and mounted, giving the word to march. The men + shouted and strode on—our faces to the Shipki Pass and what lay + beyond. + </p> + <p> + We had parted. + </p> + <p> + Once, twice, I looked back, and standing in full sunlight, she waved her + hand. + </p> + <p> + We turned the angle of the rocks. + </p> + <p> + What I found—what she found is a story strange and beautiful which I + may tell one day to those who care to hear. That for me there were pauses, + hesitancies, dreads, on the way I am not concerned to deny, for so it must + always be with the roots of the old beliefs of fear and ignorance buried + in the soil of our hearts and ready to throw out their poisonous fibres. + But there was never doubt. For myself I have long forgotten the meaning of + that word in anything that is of real value. + </p> + <p> + Do not let it be thought that the treasure is reserved for the few or + those of special gifts. And it is as free to the West as to the East + though I own it lies nearer to the surface in the Orient where the + spiritual genius of the people makes it possible and the greater and more + faithful teachers are found. It is not without meaning that all the faiths + of the world have dawned in those sunrise skies. Yet it is within reach of + all and asks only recognition, for the universe has been the mine of its + jewels— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Median gold it holds, and silver from Atropatene, Ruby and + emerald from Hindustan, and Bactrian agate, Bright with beryl + and pearl, sardonyx and sapphire.”— + and more that cannot be uttered— + the Lights and Perfections. +</pre> + <p> + So for all seekers I pray this prayer—beautiful in its sonorous + Latin, but noble in all the tongues; + </p> + <p> + “Supplico tibi, Pater et Dux—I pray Thee, Guide of our vision, that + we may remember the nobleness with which Thou hast endowed us, and that + Thou wouldest be always on our right and on our left in the motion of our + wills, that we may be purged from the contagion of the body and the + affections of the brute and overcome and rule them. And I pray also that + Thou wouldest drive away the blinding darkness from the eyes of our souls + that we may know well what is to be held for divine and what for mortal.” + </p> + <p> + “The nobleness with which Thou hast endowed us-” this, and not the cry of + the miserable sinner whose very repentance is no virtue but the + consequence of failure and weakness is the strong music to which we must + march. + </p> + <p> + And the way is open to the mountains. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE INTERPRETER A ROMANCE OF THE EAST + </h2> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + There are strange things in this story, but, so far as I understand them, + I tell the truth. If you measure the East with a Western foot-rule you + will say, “Impossible.” I should have said it myself. + </p> + <p> + Of myself I will say as little as I can, for this story is of Vanna + Loring. I am an incident only, though I did not know that at first. + </p> + <p> + My name is Stephen Clifden, and I was eight-and-thirty; plenty of money, + sound in wind and limb. I had been by way of being a writer before the + war, the hobby of a rich man; but if I picked up anything in the welter in + France, it was that real work is the only salvation this mad world has to + offer; so I meant to begin at the beginning, and learn my trade like a + journeyman labourer. I had come to the right place. A very wonderful city + is Peshawar—rather let us say, two cities—the compounds, the + fortifications where Europeans dwell in such peace as their strong right + arms can secure them; and the native city and bazaar humming and buzzing + like a hive of angry bees with the rumours that come up from Lower India + or down the Khyber Pass with the camel caravans loaded with merchandise + from Afghanistan, Bokhara, and farther. And it is because of this that + Peshawar is the Key of India, and a city of Romance that stands at every + corner, and cries aloud in the market—place. For at Peshawar every + able-bodied man sleeps with his revolver under his pillow, and the old + Fort is always ready in case it should be necessary at brief and sharp + notice to hurry the women and children into it, and possibly, to die in + their defense. So enlivening is the neighbourhood of the frontier tribes + that haunt the famous Khyber Pass and the menacing hills where danger is + always lurking. + </p> + <p> + But there was society here, and I was swept into it—there was + chatter, and it galled me. + </p> + <p> + I was beginning to feel that I had missed my mark, and must go farther + afield, perhaps up into Central Asia, when I met Vanna Loring. If I say + that her hair was soft and dark; that she had the deepest hazel eyes I + have ever seen, and a sensitive, tender mouth; that she moved with a + flowing grace like “a wave of the sea”—it sounds like the portrait + of a beauty, and she was never that. Also, incidentally, it gives none of + her charm. I never heard any one get any further than that she was “oddly + attractive”—let us leave it at that. She was certainly attractive to + me. + </p> + <p> + She was the governess of little Winifred Meryon, whose father held the + august position of General Commanding the Frontier Forces, and her mother + the more commanding position of the reigning beauty of Northern India, + generally speaking. No one disputed that. She was as pretty as a picture, + and her charming photograph had graced as many illustrated papers as there + were illustrated papers to grace. + </p> + <p> + But Vanna—I gleaned her story by bits when I came across her with + the child in the gardens. I was beginning to piece it together now. + </p> + <p> + Her love of the strange and beautiful she had inherited from a young + Italian mother, daughter of a political refugee; her childhood had been + spent in a remote little village in the West of England; half reluctantly + she told me how she had brought herself up after her mother’s death and + her father’s second marriage. Little was said of that, but I gathered that + it had been a grief to her, a factor in her flight to the East. + </p> + <p> + We were walking in the Circular Road then with Winifred in front leading + her Pekingese by its blue ribbon, and we had it almost to ourselves except + for a few natives passing slow and dignified on their own occasions, for + fashionable Peshawar was finishing its last rubber of bridge, before + separating to dress for dinner, and had no time to spare for trivialities + and sunsets. + </p> + <p> + “So when I came to three-and-twenty,” she said slowly, “I felt I must + break away from our narrow life. I had a call to India stronger than + anything on earth. You would not understand but that was so, and I had + spent every spare moment in teaching myself India—its history, + legends, religions, everything! And I was not wanted at home, and I had + grown afraid.” + </p> + <p> + I could divine years of patience and repression under this plain tale, but + also a power that would be dynamic when the authentic voice called. That + was her charm—gentleness in strength—a sweet serenity. + </p> + <p> + “What were you afraid of?” + </p> + <p> + “Of growing old and missing what was waiting for me out here. But I could + not get away like other people. No money, you see. So I thought I would + come out here and teach. Dare I? Would they let me? I knew I was fighting + life and chances and risks if I did it; but it was death if I stayed + there. And then—Do you really care to hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. Tell me how you broke your chain.” + </p> + <p> + “I spare you the family quarrels. I can never go back. But I was spurred—spurred + to take some wild leap; and I took it. Six years ago I came out. First I + went to a doctor and his wife at Cawnpore. They had a wonderful knowledge + of the Indian peoples, and there I learned Hindustani and much else. Then + he died. But an aunt had left me two hundred pounds, and I could wait a + little and choose; and so I came here.” + </p> + <p> + It interested me. The courage that pale elastic type of woman has! + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever regretted it? Would they take you back if you failed?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, to both questions,” she said, smiling. “Life is glorious. I’ve + drunk of a cup I never thought to taste; and if I died tomorrow I should + know I had done right. I rejoice in every moment I live—even when + Winifred and I are wrestling with arithmetic.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t have thought life was very easy with Lady Meryon.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she is kind enough in an indifferent sort of way. I am not the + persecuted Jane Eyre sort of governess at all. But that is all on the + surface and does not matter. It is India I care for-the people, the sun, + the infinite beauty. It was coming home. You would laugh if I told you I + knew Peshawar long before I came here. Knew it—walked here, lived. + Before there were English in India at all.” She broke off. “You won’t + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have had that feeling, too,” I said patronizingly. “If one has read + very much about a place-” + </p> + <p> + “That was not quite what I meant. Never mind. The people, the place—that + is the real thing to me. All this is the dream.” The sweep of her hand + took in not only Winifred and myself, but the general’s stately residence, + which to blaspheme in Peshawar is rank infidelity. + </p> + <p> + “By George, I would give thousands to feel that! I can’t get out of Europe + here. I want to write, Miss Loring,” I found myself saying. “I’d done a + bit, and then the war came and blew my life to pieces. Now I want to get + inside the skin of the East, and I can’t do it. I see it from outside, + with a pane of glass between. No life in it. If you feel as you say, for + God’s sake be my interpreter!” + </p> + <p> + I really meant what I said. I knew she was a harp that any breeze would + sweep into music. I divined that temperament in her and proposed to use it + for my own ends. She had and I had not, the power to be a part of all she + saw, to feel kindred blood running in her own veins. To the average + European the native life of India is scarcely interesting, so far is it + removed from all comprehension. To me it was interesting, but I could not + tell why. I stood outside and had not the fairy gold to pay for my + entrance. Here at all events she could buy her way where I could not. + Without cruelty, which honestly was not my besetting sin—especially + where women were concerned, the egoist in me felt I would use her, would + extract the last drop of the enchantment of her knowledge before I went on + my way. What more natural than that Vanna or any other woman should + minister to my thirst for information? Men are like that. I pretend to be + no better than the rest. She pleased my fastidiousness—that + fastidiousness which is the only austerity in men not otherwise austere. + </p> + <p> + “Interpret?” she said, looking at me with clear hazel eyes; “how could I? + You were in the native city yesterday. What did you miss?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything! I saw masses of colour, light, movement. Brilliantly + picturesque people. Children like Asiatic angels. Magnificently scowling + ruffians in sheepskin coats. In fact, a movie staged for my benefit. I was + afraid they would ring down the curtain before I had had enough. It had no + meaning. When I got back to my diggings I tried to put down what I had + just seen, and I swear there’s more inspiration in the guide-book.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you go alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I certainly would not go sight-seeing with the Meryon crowd. Tell me + what you felt when you saw it first.” + </p> + <p> + “I went with Sir John’s uncle. He was a great traveler. The colour struck + me dumb. It flames—it sings. Think of the grey pinched life in the + West! I saw a grave dark potter turning his wheel, while his little girl + stood by, glad at our pleasure, her head veiled like a miniature woman, + tiny baggy trousers, and a silver nose-stud, like a star, in one delicate + nostril. In her thin arms she held a heavy baby in a gilt cap, like a + monkey. And the wheel turned and whirled until it seemed to be spinning + dreams, thick as motes in the sun. The clay rose in smooth spirals under + his hand, and the wheel sang, ‘Shall the vessel reprove him who made one + to honour and one to dishonour?’ And I saw the potter thumping his wet + clay, and the clay, plastic as dream-stuff, shaped swift as light, and the + three Fates stood at his shoulder. Dreams, dreams, and all in the spinning + of the wheel, and the rich shadows of the old broken courtyard where he + sat. And the wheel stopped and the thread broke, and the little new shapes + he had made stood all about him, and he was only a potter in Peshawar.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice was like a song. She had utterly forgotten my existence. I did + not dislike it at the moment, for I wanted to hear more, and the + impersonal is the rarest gift a woman can give a man. + </p> + <p> + “Did you buy anything?” + </p> + <p> + “He gave me a gift—a flawed jar of turquoise blue, faint turquoise + green round the lip. He saw I understood. And then I bought a little gold + cap and a wooden box of jade-green Kabul grapes. About a rupee, all told. + But it was Eastern merchandise, and I was trading from Balsora and + Baghdad, and Eleazar’s camels were swaying down from Damascus along the + Khyber Pass, and coming in at the great Darwazah, and friends’ eyes met me + everywhere. I am profoundly happy here.” + </p> + <p> + The sinking sun lit an almost ecstatic face. + </p> + <p> + I envied her more deeply than I had ever envied any one. She had the + secret of immortal youth, and I felt old as I looked at her. One might be + eighty and share that passionate impersonal joy. Age could not wither nor + custom stale the infinite variety of her world’s joys. She had a child’s + dewy youth in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + There are great sunsets at Peshawar, flaming over the plain, dying in + melancholy splendour over the dangerous hills. They too were hers, in a + sense in which they could never be mine. But what a companion! To my + astonishment a wild thought of marriage flashed across me, to be instantly + rebuffed with a shrug. Marriage—that one’s wife might talk poetry to + one about the East! Absurd! But what was it these people felt and I could + not feel? Almost, shut up in the prison of self, I knew what Vanna had + felt in her village—a maddening desire to escape, to be a part of + the loveliness that lay beyond me. So might a man love a king’s daughter + in her hopeless heights. + </p> + <p> + “It may be very beautiful on the surface,” I said morosely; “but there’s a + lot of misery below—hateful, they tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. We shall get to work one day. But look at the sunset. It opens + like a mysterious flower. I must take Winifred home now.” + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” I pleaded; “I can only see it through your eyes. I feel it + while you speak, and then the good minute goes.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“And so must I. Come, Winifred. Look, there’s an owl; not like the owls +in the summer dark in England— + + “Lovely are the curves of the white owl sweeping, Wavy in the +dark, lit by one low star.” + </pre> + <p> + Suddenly she turned again and looked at me half wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “It is good to talk to you. You want to know. You are so near it all. I + wish I could help you; I am so exquisitely happy myself.” + </p> + <p> + My writing was at a standstill. It seemed the groping of a blind man in a + radiant world. Once perhaps I had felt that life was good in itself—when + the guns came thundering toward the Vimy Ridge in a mad gallop of horses, + and men shouting and swearing and frantically urging them on. Then, riding + for more than life, I had tasted life for an instant. Not before or since. + But this woman had the secret. + </p> + <p> + Lady Meryon, with her escort of girls and subalterns, came daintily past + the hotel compound, and startled me from my brooding with her pretty + silvery voice. + </p> + <p> + “Dreaming, Mr. Clifden? It isn’t at all wholesome to dream in the East. + Come and dine with us tomorrow. A tiny dance afterwards, you know; or + bridge for those who like it.” + </p> + <p> + I had not the faintest notion whether governesses dined with the family or + came in afterward with the coffee; but it was a sporting chance, and I + took it. + </p> + <p> + Then Sir John came up and joined us. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t well dance tomorrow, Kitty,” he said to his wife. “There’s been + an outpost affair in the Swat Hills, and young Fitzgerald has been shot. + Come to dinner of course, Clifden. Glad to see you. But no dancing, I + think.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty Meryon’s mouth drooped like a pouting child’s. Was it for the lost + dance, or the lost soldier lying out on the hills in the dying sunset. Who + could tell? In either case it was pretty enough for the illustrated + papers. + </p> + <p> + “How sad! Such a dear boy. We shall miss him at tennis.” Then brightly; + “Well, we’ll have to put the dance off for a week, but come tomorrow + anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + Next evening I went into Lady Meryon’s flower-scented drawing-room. The + electric fans were fluttering and the evening air was cool. Five or six + pretty girls and as many men made up the party—Kitty Meryon the + prettiest of them all, fashionably undressed in faint pink and crystal, + with a charming smile in readiness, all her gay little flags flying in the + rich man’s honour. I am no vainer than other men, but I saw that. Whatever + her charm might be it was none for me. What could I say to interest her + who lived in her foolish little world as one shut in a bright bubble? And + she had said the wrong word about young Fitzgerald—I wanted Vanna, + with her deep seeing eyes, to say the right one and adjust those cruel + values. + </p> + <p> + Governesses dine, it appeared, only to fill an unexpected place, or make a + decorous entry afterward, to play accompaniments. Fortunately Kitty Meryon + sang, in a pinched little soprano, not nearly so pretty as her silver + ripple of talk. + </p> + <p> + It was when the party had settled down to bridge and I was standing out, + that I ventured to go up to her as she sat knitting by a window—not + unwatched by the quick flash of Lady Meryon’s eyes as I did it. + </p> + <p> + “I think you hypnotize me, Miss Loring. When I hear anything I straightway + want to know what you will say. Have you heard of Fitzgerald’s death?” + </p> + <p> + “That is why we are not dancing tonight. Tomorrow the cable will reach his + home in England. He was an only child, and they are the great people of + the village where we are the little people. I knew his mother as one knows + a great lady who is kind to all the village folk. It may kill her. It is + travelling tonight like a bullet to her heart, and she does not know.” + </p> + <p> + “His father?” + </p> + <p> + “A brave man—a soldier himself. He will know it was a good death and + that Harry would not fail. He did not at Ypres. He would not here. But all + joy and hope will be dead in that house tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sorry for Harry, if you mean that. He knew—we all know—that + he was on guard here holding the outposts against blood and treachery and + terrible things—playing the Great Game. One never loses at that game + if one plays it straight, and I am sure that at the last it was joy he + felt and not fear. He has not lost. Did you notice in the church a niche + before every soldier’s seat to hold his loaded gun? And the tablets on the + walls; “Killed at Kabul River, aged 22.”—“Killed on outpost duty.”—“Murdered + by an Afghan fanatic.” This will be one memory more. Why be sorry.” + </p> + <p> + Presently:— + </p> + <p> + “I am going up to the hills tomorrow, to the Malakhand Fort, with Mrs. + Delany, Lady Meryon’s aunt, and we shall see the wonderful Tahkt-i-Bahi + Monastery on the way. You should do that run before you go. The fort is + the last but one on the way to Chitral, and beyond that the road is so + beset that only soldiers may go farther, and indeed the regiments escort + each other up and down. But it is an early start, for we must be back in + Peshawar at six for fear of raiding natives.” + </p> + <p> + “I know; they hauled me up in the dusk the other day, and told me I should + be swept off to the hills if I fooled about after dusk. But I say—is + it safe for you to go? You ought to have a man. Could I go too?” + </p> + <p> + I thought she did not look enthusiastic at the proposal. + </p> + <p> + “Ask. You know I settle nothing. I go where I am sent.” She said it with + the happiest smile. I knew they could send her nowhere that she would not + find joy. I thought her mere presence must send the vibrations of + happiness through the household. Yet again—why? For where there is + no receiver the current speaks in vain; and for an instant I seemed to see + the air full of messages—of speech striving to utter its passionate + truths to deaf ears stopped for ever against the breaking waves of sound. + But Vanna heard. + </p> + <p> + She left the room; and when the bridge was over, I made my request. Lady + Meryon shrugged her shoulders and declared it would be a terribly dull run—the + scenery nothing, “and only” (she whispered) “Aunt Selina and poor Miss + Loring?” + </p> + <p> + Of course I saw at once that she did not like it; but Sir John was all for + my going, and that saved the situation. + </p> + <p> + I certainly could have dispensed with Aunt Selina when the automobile drew + up in the golden river of the sunrise at the hotel. There were only the + driver, a personal servant, and the two ladies; Mrs. Delany, comely, + pleasant, talkative, and Vanna— + </p> + <p> + Her face in its dark motoring veil, fine and delicate as a young moon in a + cloud drift—the sensitive sweet mouth that had quivered a little + when she spoke of Fitzgerald—the pure glance that radiated such + kindness to all the world. She sat there with the Key of Dreams pressed + against her slight bosom—her eyes dreaming above it. Already the + strange airs of her unknown world were breathing about me, and as yet I + knew not the things that belonged unto my peace. + </p> + <p> + We glided along the straight military road from Peshawar to Nowshera, the + gold-bright sun dazzling in its whiteness—a strange drive through + the flat, burned country, with the ominous Kabul River flowing through it. + Military preparations everywhere, and the hills looking watchfully down—alive, + as it were, with keen, hostile eyes. War was at present about us as behind + the lines in France; and when we crossed the Kabul River on a bridge of + boats, and I saw its haunted waters, I began to feel the atmosphere of the + place closing down upon me. It had a sinister beauty; it breathed + suspense; and I wished, as I was sure Vanna did, for silence that was not + at our command. + </p> + <p> + For Mrs. Delany felt nothing of it. A bright shallow ripple of talk was + her contribution to the joys of the day; though it was, fortunately, + enough for her happiness if we listened and agreed. I knew Vanna listened + only in show. Her intent eyes were fixed on the Tahkt-i-Bahi hills after + we had swept out of Nowshera; and when the car drew up at the rough track, + she had a strange look of suspense and pallor. I remember I wondered at + the time if she were nervous in the wild open country. + </p> + <p> + “Now pray don’t be shocked,” said Mrs. Delany comfortably; “but you two + young people may go up to the monastery, and I shall stay here. I am + dreadfully ashamed of myself, but the sight of that hill is enough for me. + Don’t hurry. I may have a little doze, and be all the better company when + you get back. No, don’t try to persuade me, Mr. Clifden. It isn’t the part + of a friend.” + </p> + <p> + I cannot say I was sorry, though I had a moment of panic when Vanna + offered to stay with her—very much, too, as if she really meant it. + So we set out perforce, Vanna leading steadily, as if she knew the way. + She never looked up, and her wish for silence was so evident, that I + followed, lending my hand mutely when the difficulties obliged it, she + accepting absently, and as if her thoughts were far away. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she quickened her pace. We had climbed about nine hundred feet, + and now the narrow track twisted through the rocks—a track that + looked as age-worn as no doubt it was. We threaded it, and struggled over + the ridge, and looked down victorious on the other side. + </p> + <p> + There she stopped. A very wonderful sight, of which I had never seen the + like, lay below us. Rock and waste and towering crags, and the mighty ruin + of the monastery set in the fangs of the mountain like a robber baron’s + castle, looking far away to the blue mountains of the Debatable Land—the + land of mystery and danger. It stood there—the great ruin of a vast + habitation of men. Building after building, mysterious and broken, + corridors, halls, refectories, cells; the dwelling of a faith so alien + that I could not reconstruct the life that gave it being. And all sinking + gently into ruin that in a century more would confound it with the roots + of the mountains. + </p> + <p> + Grey and wonderful, it clung to the heights and looked with eyeless + windows at the past. Somehow I found it infinitely pathetic; the very + faith it expressed is dead in India, and none left so poor to do it + reverence. + </p> + <p> + But Vanna knew her way. Unerringly she led me from point to point, and she + was visibly at home in the intricacies. Such knowledge in a young woman + bewildered me. Could she have studied the plans in the Museum? How else + should she know where the abbot lived, or where the refractory brothers + were punished? + </p> + <p> + Once I missed her, while I stooped to examine some scroll-work, and + following, found her before one of the few images of the Buddha that the + rapacious Museum had spared—a singularly beautiful bas-relief, the + hand raised to enforce the truth the calm lips were speaking, the drapery + falling in stately folds to the bare feet. As I came up, she had an air as + if she had just ceased from movement, and I had a distinct feeling that + she had knelt before it—I saw the look of worship! The thing + troubled me like a dream, haunting, impossible, but real. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful!” I said in spite of myself, as she pointed to the image. + “In this utter solitude it seems the very spirit of the place.” + </p> + <p> + “He was. He is,” said Vanna. + </p> + <p> + “Explain to me. I don’t understand. I know so little of him. What is the + subject?” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated; then chose her words as if for a beginner;—“It is the + Blessed One preaching to the Tree-Spirits. See how eagerly they lean from + the boughs to listen. This other relief represents him in the state of + mystic vision. Here he is drowned in peace. See how it overflows from the + closed eyes; the closed lips. The air is filled with his quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “What is he dreaming?” + </p> + <p> + “Not dreaming—seeing. Peace. He sits at the point where time and + infinity meet. To attain that vision was the aim of the monks who lived + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Did they attain?” I found myself speaking as if she could certainly + answer. + </p> + <p> + “A few. There was one, Vasettha, the Brahman, a young man who had + renounced all his possessions and riches, and seated here before this + image of the Blessed One, he fell often into the mystic state. He had a + strange vision at one time of the future of India, which will surely be + fulfilled. He did not forget it in his rebirths. He remembers-” + </p> + <p> + She broke off suddenly and said with forced indifference,—“He would + sit here often looking out over the mountains; the monks sat at his feet + to hear. He became abbot while still young. But his story is a sad one.” + </p> + <p> + “I entreat you to tell me.” + </p> + <p> + She looked away over the mountains. “While he was abbot here,—still + a young man,—a famous Chinese Pilgrim came down through Kashmir to + visit the Holy Places in India. The abbot went forward with him to + Peshawar, that he might make him welcome. And there came a dancer to + Peshawar, named Lilavanti, most beautiful! I dare not tell you her beauty. + I tremble now to think-” + </p> + <p> + Again she paused, and again the faint creeping sense of mystery invaded + me. + </p> + <p> + She resumed;— + </p> + <p> + “The abbot saw her and he loved her. He was young still, you remember. She + was a woman of the Hindu faith and hated Buddhism. It swept him down into + the lower worlds of storm and desire. He fled with Lilavanti and never + returned here. So in his rebirth he fell-” + </p> + <p> + She stopped dead; her face pale as death. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know? Where have you read it? If I could only find what you + find and know what you know! The East is like an open book to you. Tell me + the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “How should I know any more?” she said hurriedly. “We must be going back. + You should study the plans of this place at Peshawar. They were very + learned monks who lived here. It is famous for learning.” + </p> + <p> + The life had gone out of her words-out of the ruins. There was no more to + be said. + </p> + <p> + We clambered down the hill in the hot sunshine, speaking only of the view, + the strange shrubs and flowers, and, once, the swift gliding of a snake, + and found Mrs. Delany blissfully asleep in the most padded corner of the + car. The spirit of the East vanished in her comfortable presence, and + luncheon seemed the only matter of moment. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder, my dears,” she said, “if you would be very disappointed and + think me very dense if I proposed our giving up the Malakhand Fort? The + driver has been giving me in very poor English such an account of the + dangers of that awful road up the hill that I feel no Fort would repay me + for its terrors. Do say what you feel, Miss Loring. Mr. Clifden can lunch + with the officers at Nowshera and come any time. I know I am an atrocity.” + </p> + <p> + There could be only one answer, though Vanna and I knew perfectly well the + crafty design of the driver to spare himself work. Mrs. Delany remained + brightly awake for the run home, and favored us with many remarkable views + on India and its shortcomings, Vanna, who had a sincere liking for her, + laughing with delight at her description of a visit of condolence with + Lady Meryon to the five widows of one of the hill Rajas. + </p> + <p> + But I own I was pre-occupied. I knew those moments at the monastery had + given me a glimpse into the wonderland of her soul that made me long for + more. It was rapidly becoming clear to me that unless my intentions + developed on very different lines I must flee Peshawar. For love is born + of sympathy, and sympathy was strengthening daily, but for love I had no + courage yet. + </p> + <p> + I feared it as men fear the unknown. I despised myself—but I feared. + I will confess my egregious folly and vanity—I had no doubt as to + her reception of my offer if I should make it, but possessed by a colossal + selfishness, I thought only of myself, and from that point of view could + not decide how I stood to lose or gain. In my wildest accesses of vanity I + did not suppose Vanna loved me, but I felt she liked me, and I believe the + advantages I had to offer would be overwhelming to a woman in her + position. So, tossed on the waves of indecision, I inclined to flight. + </p> + <p> + That night I resolutely began my packing, and wrote a note of farewell to + Lady Meryon. The next morning I furiously undid it, and destroyed the + note. And that afternoon I took the shortest way to the sun-set road to + lounge about and wait for Vanna and Winifred. She never came, and I was as + unreasonably angry as if I had deserved the blessing of her presence. + </p> + <p> + Next day I could see that she tried gently hut clearly to discourage our + meeting and for three days I never saw her at all. Yet I knew that in her + solitary life our talks counted for a pleasure, and when we met again I + thought I saw a new softness in the lovely hazel deeps of her eyes. + </p> + <p> + III + </p> + <p> + On the day when things became clear to me, I was walking towards the + Meryons’ gates when I met her coming alone along the sunset road, in the + late gold of the afternoon. She looked pale and a little wearied, and I + remembered I wished I did not know every change of her face as I did. It + was a symptom that alarmed my selfishness—it galled me with the + sense that I was no longer my own despot. + </p> + <p> + “So you have been up the Khyber Pass,” she said as I fell into step at her + side. “Tell me—was it as wonderful as you expected?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,—you tell me! It will give me what I missed. Begin at the + beginning. Tell me what I saw.” + </p> + <p> + I could not miss the delight of her words, and she laughed, knowing my + whim. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that Pass!—the wonder of those old roads that have borne the + traffic and romance of the world for ages. Do you think there is anything + in the world so fascinating as they are? But did you go on Tuesday or + Friday?” + </p> + <p> + For these are the only days in the week when the Khyber can be safely + entered. The British then turn out the Khyber Rifles and man every crag, + and the loaded caravans move like a tide, and go up and down the narrow + road on their occasions. + </p> + <p> + Naturally mere sightseers are not welcomed, for much business must be got + through in that urgent forty eight hours in which life is not risked in + entering. + </p> + <p> + “Tuesday. But make a picture for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you gave your word not to photograph or sketch—as if one + wanted to when every bit of it is stamped on one’s brain! And you went up + to Jumrood Fort at the entrance. Did they tell you it is an old Sikh Fort + and has been on duty in that turbulent place for five hundred years And + did you see the machine guns in the court? And every one armed—even + the boys with belts of cartridges? Then you went up the narrow winding + track between the mountains, and you said to yourself, ‘This is the road + of pure romance. It goes up to silken Samarkhand, and I can ride to + Bokhara of the beautiful women and to all the dreams. Am I alive and is it + real?’ You felt that?” + </p> + <p> + “All. Every bit. Go on!” + </p> + <p> + She smiled with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “And you saw the little forts on the crags and the men on guard all along + the bills, rifles ready! You could hear the guns rattle as they saluted. + Do you know that up there men plough with rifles loaded beside them? They + have to be men indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to imply that we are not men?” + </p> + <p> + “Different men at least. This is life in a Border ballad. Such a life as + you knew in France but beautiful in a wild—hawk sort of way. Don’t + the Khyber Rifles bewilder you? They are drawn from these very Hill + tribes, and will shoot their own fathers and brothers in the way of duty + as comfortably as if they were jackals. Once there was a scrap here and + one of the tribesmen sniped our men unbearably. What do you suppose + happened? A Khyber Rifle came to the Colonel and said, ‘Let me put an end + to him, Colonel Sahib. I know exactly where he sits. He is my + grandfather.’ And he did it!” + </p> + <p> + “The bond of bread and salt?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and discipline. I’m sometimes half frightened of discipline. It + moulds a man like wax. Even God doesn’t do that. Well—then you had + the traders—wild shaggy men in sheepskin and women in massive + jewelry of silver and turquoise,-great earrings, heavy bracelets loading + their arms, wild, fierce, handsome. And the camels—thousands of + them, some going up, some coming down, a mass of human and animal life. + Above you, moving figures against the keen blue sky, or deep below you in + the ravines. + </p> + <p> + “The camels were swaying along with huge bales of goods, and dark + beautiful women in wicker cages perched on them. Silks and carpets from + Bokhara, and blue—eyed Persian cats, and bluer Persian turquoises. + Wonderful! And the dust, gilded by the sunshine, makes a vaporous golden + atmosphere for it all.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the most wonderful thing you saw there?” + </p> + <p> + “The most beautiful, I think, was a man—a splendid dark ruffian + lounging along. He wanted to show off, and his swagger was perfect. Long + black onyx eyes and a tumble of black curls, and teeth like almonds. But + what do you think he carried on his wrist—a hawk with fierce yellow + eyes, ringed and chained. Hawking is a favourite sport in the hills. Oh, + why doesn’t some great painter come and paint it all before they take to + trains and cars? I long to see it all again, but I never shall.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not,” said I. “Surely Sir John can get you up there any day?” + </p> + <p> + “Not now. The fighting makes it difficult. But it isn’t that. I am + leaving.” + </p> + <p> + “Leaving?” My heart gave a leap. “Why? Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Leaving Lady Meryon.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—for Heaven’s sake?” + </p> + <p> + “I had rather not tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must know.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall ask Lady Meryon.” + </p> + <p> + “I forbid you.” + </p> + <p> + And then the unexpected happened, and an unbearable impulse swept me into + folly—or was it wisdom? + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me. I would not have said it yet, but this settles it. I want + you to marry me. I want it atrociously!” + </p> + <p> + It was a strange word. What I felt for her at that moment was difficult to + describe. I endured it like a pain that could only be assuaged by her + presence, but I endured it angrily. We were walking on the sunset road—very + deserted and quiet at the time. The place was propitious if nothing else + was. + </p> + <p> + She looked at me in transparent astonishment; + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Clifden, are you dreaming? You can’t mean what you say.” + </p> + <p> + “Why can’t I? I do. I want you. You have the key of all I care for. I + think of the world without you and find it tasteless.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely you have all the world can give? What do you want more?” + </p> + <p> + “The power to enjoy it—to understand it. You have got that—I + haven’t. I want you always with me to interpret, like a guide to a blind + fellow. I am no better.” + </p> + <p> + “Say like a dog, at once!” she interrupted. “At least you are frank enough + to put it on that ground. You have not said you love me. You could not say + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know whether I do or not. I know nothing about love. I want you. + Indescribably. Perhaps that is love—is it? I never wanted any one + before. I have tried to get away and I can’t.” + </p> + <p> + I was brutally frank, you see. She compelled my very thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you tried?” + </p> + <p> + “Because every man likes freedom. But I like you better.” “I can tell you + the reason,” she said in her gentle unwavering voice. “I am Lady Meryon’s + governess, and an undesirable. You have felt that?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t make me out such a snob. No—yes. You force me into honesty. I + did feel it at first like the miserable fool I am, but I could kick myself + when I think of that now. It is utterly forgotten. Take me and make me + what you will, and forgive me. Only tell me your secret of joy. How is it + you understand everything alive or dead? I want to live—to see, to + know.” + </p> + <p> + It was a rhapsody like a boy’s. Yet at the moment I was not even ashamed + of it, so sharp was my need. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she said, slowly, looking straight before her, “that I had + better be quite frank. I don’t love you. I don’t know what love means in + the Western sense. It has a very different meaning for me. Your voice + comes to me from an immense distance when you speak in that way. You want + me—but never with a thought of what I might want. Is that love? I + like you very deeply as a friend, but we are of different races. There is + a gulf.” + </p> + <p> + “A gulf? You are English.” + </p> + <p> + “By birth, yes. In mind, no. And there are things that go deeper, that you + could not understand. So I refuse quite definitely, and our ways part + here, for in a few days I go. I shall not see you again, but I wish to say + good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + The bitterest chagrin was working in my soul. I felt as if all were + deserting me-a sickening feeling of loneliness. I did not know the man who + was in me, and was a stranger to myself. + </p> + <p> + “I entreat you to tell me why, and where.” + </p> + <p> + “Since you have made me this offer, I will tell you why. Lady Meryon + objected to my friendship with you, and objected in a way which-” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, flushing palely. I caught her hand. + </p> + <p> + “That settles it!-that she should have dared! I’ll go up this minute and + tell her we are engaged. Vanna-Vanna!” + </p> + <p> + For she disengaged her hand, quietly but firmly. + </p> + <p> + “On no account. How can I make it more plain to you? I should have gone + soon in any case. My place is in the native city—that is the life I + want. I have work there, I knew it before I came out. My sympathies are + all with them. They know what life is—why even the beggars, poorer + than poor, are perfectly happy, basking in the great generous sun. Oh, the + splendour and riot of life and colour! That’s my life—I sicken of + this.” + </p> + <p> + “But I’ll give it to you. Marry me, and we will travel till you’re tired + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and look on as at a play—sitting in the stalls, and applauding + when we are pleased. No, I’m going to work there.” “For God’s sake, how? + Let me come too.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t. You’re not in it. I am going to attach myself to the medical + mission at Lahore and learn nursing, and then I shall go to my own + people.” + </p> + <p> + “Missionaries? You’ve nothing in common with them?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. But they teach what I want. Mr. Clifden, I shall not come this + way again. If I remember—I’ll write to you, and tell you what the + real world is like.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, the absorbed little smile I knew and feared. I saw pleading + was useless then. I would wait, and never lose sight of her and of hope. + </p> + <p> + “Vanna, before you go, give me your gift of sight. Interpret for me. Stay + with me a little and make me see.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean exactly?” she asked in her gentlest voice, half turning + to me. + </p> + <p> + “Make one journey with me, as my sister, if you will do no more. Though I + warn you that all the time I shall be trying to win my wife. But come with + me once, and after that—if you will go, you must. Say yes.” + </p> + <p> + Madness! But she hesitated—a hesitation full of hope, and looked at + me with intent eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you frankly,” she said at last, “that I know my knowledge of + the East and kinship with it goes far beyond mere words. In my case the + doors were not shut. I believe—I know that long ago this was my + life. If I spoke for ever I could not make you understand how much I know + and why. So I shall quite certainly go back to it. Nothing—you least + of all, can hold me. But you are my friend—that is a true bond. And + if you would wish me to give you two months before I go, I might do that + if it would in any way help you. As your friend only—you clearly + understand. You would not reproach me afterwards when I left you, as I + should most certainly do?” + </p> + <p> + “I swear I would not. I swear I would protect you even from myself. I want + you for ever, but if you will only give me two months—come! But have + you thought that people will talk. It may injure you. I’m not worth that, + God knows. And you will take nothing I could give you in return.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke very quietly. + </p> + <p> + “That does not trouble me.—It would only trouble me if you asked + what I have not to give. For two months I would travel with you as a + friend, if, like a friend, I paid my own expenses-” + </p> + <p> + I would have interrupted, but she brushed that firmly aside. “No, I must + do as I say, and I am quite able to or I should not suggest it. I would go + on no other terms. It would be hard if because we are man and woman I + might not do one act of friendship for you before we part. For though I + refuse your offer utterly, I appreciate it, and I would make what little + return I can. It would be a sharp pain to me to distress you.” + </p> + <p> + Her gentleness and calm, the magnitude of the offer she was making stunned + me so that I could scarcely speak. There was such an extraordinary + simplicity and generosity in her manner that it appeared to me more + enthralling and bewildering than the most finished coquetry I had ever + known. She gave me opportunities that the most ardent lover could in his + wildest dream desire, and with the remoteness in her eyes and her still + voice she deprived them of all hope. It kindled in me a flame that made my + throat dry when I tried to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Vanna, is it a promise? You mean it?” + </p> + <p> + “If you wish it, yes. But I warn you I think it will not make it easier + for you when the time is over. + </p> + <p> + “Why two months?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly because I can afford no more. No! I know what you would say. + Partly because I can spare no more time. But I will give you that, if you + wish, though, honestly, I had very much rather not. I think it unwise for + you. I would protect you if I could—indeed I would!” + </p> + <p> + It was my turn to hesitate now. Every moment revealed to me some new + sweetness, some charm that I saw would weave itself into the very fibre of + my I had been! Was I not now a fool? Would it not being if the opportunity + were given. Oh, fool that be better to let her go before she had become a + part of my daily experience? I began to fear I was courting my own + shipwreck. She read my thoughts clearly. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you would be wise to decide against it. Release me from my + promise. It was a mad scheme.” + </p> + <p> + The superiority—or so I felt it—of her gentleness maddened me. + It might have been I who needed protection, who was running the risk of + misjudgment—not she, a lonely woman. She looked at me, waiting—trying + to be wise for me, never for one instant thinking of herself. I felt + utterly exiled from the real purpose of her life. + </p> + <p> + “I will never release you. I claim your promise. I hold to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well then—I will write, and tell you where I shall be. + Good-bye, and if you change your mind, as I hope you will, tell me.” + </p> + <p> + She extended her hand cool as a snowflake, and was gone, walking swiftly + up the road. Ah, let a man beware when his wishes fulfilled, rain down + upon him! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +To what had I committed myself? She knew her strength and had no fears. +I could scarcely realize that she had liking enough for me to make the +offer. That it meant no shade more than she had said I knew well. She +was safe, but what was to be the result for me? I knew nothing—she was +a beloved mystery. + + “Strange she is and secret, Strange her eyes; her cheeks are +cold as cold sea-shells.” + </pre> + <p> + Yet I would risk it, for I knew there was no hope if I let her go now, and + if I saw her again, some glimmer might fall upon my dark. + </p> + <p> + Next day this reached me:—Dear Mr. Clifden,— + </p> + <p> + I am going to some Indian friends for a time. On the 15th of June I shall + be at Srinagar in Kashmir. A friend has allowed me to take her little + houseboat, the “Kedarnath.” If you like this plan we will share the cost + for two months. I warn you it is not luxurious, but I think you will like + it. I shall do this whether you come or no, for I want a quiet time before + I take up my nursing in Lahore. In thinking of all this will you remember + that I am not a girl but a woman. I shall be twenty-nine my next birthday. + Sincerely yours, VANNA LORING. + </p> + <p> + P.S. But I still think you would be wiser not to come. I hope to hear you + will not. + </p> + <p> + I replied only this:—Dear Miss Loring,—I think I understand + the position fully. I will be there. I thank you with all my heart. + Gratefully yours, STEPHEN CLIFDEN. + </p> + <p> + IV + </p> + <p> + Three days later I met Lady Meryon, and was swept in to tea. Her manner + was distinctly more cordial as she mentioned casually that Vanna had left—she + understood to take up missionary work—“which is odd,” she added with + a woman’s acrimony, “for she had no more in common with missionaries than + I have, and that is saying a good deal. Of course she speaks Hindustani + perfectly, and could be useful, but I haven’t grasped the point of it + yet.” I saw she counted on my knowing nothing of the real reason of + Vanna’s going and left it, of course, at that. The talk drifted away under + my guidance. Vanna evidently puzzled her. She half feared, and wholly + misunderstood her. + </p> + <p> + No message came to me, as time went by, and for the time she had vanished + completely, but I held fast to her promise and lived on that only. + </p> + <p> + I take up my life where it ceased to be a mere suspense and became life + once more. + </p> + <p> + On the 15th of June, I found myself riding into Srinagar in Kashmir, + through the pure tremulous green of the mighty poplars that hedge the road + into the city. The beauty of the country had half stunned me when I + entered the mountain barrier of Baramula and saw the snowy peaks that + guard the Happy Valley, with the Jhelum flowing through its tranquil + loveliness. The flush of the almond blossom was over, but the iris, like a + blue sea of peace had overflowed the world—the azure meadows smiled + back at the radiant sky. Such blossom! the blue shading into clear violet, + like a shoaling sea. The earth, like a cup held in the hand of a god, + brimmed with the draught of youth and summer and—love? But no, for + me the very word was sinister. Vanna’s face, immutably calm, confronted + it. + </p> + <p> + That night I slept in a boat at Sopor, and I remember that, waking at + midnight, I looked out and saw a mountain with a gloriole of hazy silver + about it, misty and faint as a cobweb threaded with dew. The river, there + spreading into a lake, was dark under it, flowing in a deep smooth + blackness of shadow, and everything awaited—what? And even while I + looked, the moon floated serenely above the peak, and all was bathed in + pure light, the water rippling and shining in broken silver and pearl. So + had Vanna floated into my sky, luminous, sweet, remote. I did not question + my heart any more. I knew I loved her. + </p> + <p> + Two days later I rode into Srinagar, and could scarcely see the wild + beauty of that strange Venice of the East, my heart was so beating in my + eyes. I rode past the lovely wooden bridges where the balconied houses + totter to each other across the canals in dim splendour of carving and + age; where the many-coloured native life crowds down to the river steps + and cleanses its flower-bright robes, its gold-bright brass vessels in the + shining stream, and my heart said only—Vanna, Vanna! + </p> + <p> + One day, one thought, of her absence had taught me what she was to me, and + if humility and patient endeavor could raise me to her feet, I was + resolved that I would spend my life in labor and think it well spent. + </p> + <p> + My servant dismounted and led his horse, asking from every one where the + “Kedarnath” could be found, and eager black eyes sparkled and two little + bronze images detached themselves from the crowd of boys, and ran, fleet + as fauns, before us. + </p> + <p> + Above the last bridge the Jhelum broadens out into a stately river, + controlled at one side by the banked walk known as the Bund, with the Club + House upon it and the line of houseboats beneath. Here the visitors + flutter up and down and exchange the gossip, the bridge appointments, the + little dinners that sit so incongruously on the pure Orient that is + Kashmir. + </p> + <p> + She would not be here. My heart told me that, and sure enough the boys + were leading across the bridge and by a quiet shady way to one of the many + backwaters that the great river makes in the enchanting city. There is one + waterway stretching on afar to the Dal Lake. It looks like a river—it + is the very haunt of peace. Under those mighty chenar, or plane trees, + that are the glory of Kashmir, clouding the water with deep green shadows, + the sun can scarcely pierce, save in a dipping sparkle here and there to + intensify the green gloom. The murmur of the city, the chatter of the + club, are hundreds of miles away. We rode downward under the towering + trees, and dismounting, saw a little houseboat tethered to the bank. It + was not of the richer sort that haunts the Bund, where the native servants + follow in a separate boat, and even the electric light is turned on as + part of the luxury. This was a long low craft, very broad, thatched like a + country cottage afloat. In the forepart lived the native owner, and his + family, their crew, our cooks and servants; for they played many parts in + our service. And in the afterpart, room for a life, a dream, the joy or + curse & many days to be. + </p> + <p> + But then, I saw only one thing—Vanna sat under the trees, reading, + or looking at the cool dim watery vista, with a single boat, loaded to the + river’s edge with melons and scarlet tomatoes, punting lazily down to + Srinagar in the sleepy afternoon. + </p> + <p> + She was dressed in white with a shady hat, and her delicate dark face + seemed to glow in the shadow like the heart of a pale rose. For the first + time I knew she was beautiful. Beauty shone in her like the flame in an + alabaster lamp, serene, diffused in the very air about her, so that to me + she moved in a mild radiance. She rose to meet me with both hands + outstretched—the kindest, most cordial welcome. Not an eyelash + flickered, not a trace of self-consciousness. If I could have seen her + flush or tremble—but no—her eyes were clear and calm as a + forest pool. So I remembered her. So I saw her once more. + </p> + <p> + I tried, with a hopeless pretence, to follow her example and hide what I + felt, where she had nothing to hide. + </p> + <p> + “What a place you have found. Why, it’s like the deep heart of a wood!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I saw it once when I was here with the Meryons. But we lay at the + Bund then—just under the Club. This is better. Did you like the ride + up?” + </p> + <p> + I threw myself on the grass beside her with a feeling of perfect rest. + </p> + <p> + “It was like a new heaven and a new earth. What a country!” + </p> + <p> + The very spirit of Quiet seemed to be drowsing in those branches towering + up into the blue, dipping their green fingers into the crystal of the + water. What a heaven! + </p> + <p> + “Now you shall have your tea and then I will show you your rooms,” she + said, smiling at my delight. “We shall stay here a few days more that you + may see Srinagar, and then they tow us up into the Dal Lake opposite the + Gardens of the Mogul Emperors. And if you think this beautiful what will + you say then?” + </p> + <p> + I shut my eyes and see still that first meal of my new life. The little + table that Pir Baksh, breathing full East in his jade-green turban, set + before her, with its cloth worked in a pattern of the chenar leaves that + are the symbol of Kashmir; the brown cakes made by Ahmad Khan in a + miraculous kitchen of his own invention—a few holes burrowed in the + river bank, a smoldering fire beneath them, and a width of canvas for a + roof. But it served, and no more need be asked of luxury. And Vanna, + making it mysteriously the first home I ever had known, the central joy of + it all. Oh, wonderful days of life that breathe the spirit of immortality + and pass so quickly—surely they must be treasured somewhere in + Eternity that we may look upon their beloved light once more. + </p> + <p> + “Now you must see the boat. The Kedarnath is not a Dreadnought, but she is + broad and very comfortable. And we have many chaperons. They all live in + the bows, and exist simply to protect the Sahiblog from all discomfort, + and very well they do it. That is Ahmad Khan by the kitchen. He cooks for + us. Salama owns the boat, and steers her and engages the men to tow us + when we move. And when I arrived he aired a little English and said + piously; The Lord help me to give you no trouble, and the Lord help you! + That is his wife sitting on the bank. She speaks little but Kashmiri, but + I know a little of that. Look at the hundred rat-tail plaits of her hair, + lengthened with wool, and see her silver and turquoise jewelry. She wears + much of the family fortune and is quite a walking bank. Salama, Ahmad Khan + and I talk by the hour. Ahmad comes from Fyzabad. Look at Salama’s boy—I + call him the Orange Imp. Did you ever see anything so beautiful?” + </p> + <p> + I looked in sheer delight, and grasped my camera. Sitting near us was a + lovely little Kashmiri boy of about eight, in a faded orange coat, and a + turban exactly like his father’s. His curled black eyelashes were so long + that they made a soft gloom over the upper part of the little golden face. + The perfect bow of the scarlet lips, the long eyes, the shy smile, + suggested an Indian Eros. He sat dipping his feet in the water with little + pigeon-like cries of content. + </p> + <p> + “He paddles at the bow of our little shikara boat with a paddle exactly + like a water-lily leaf. Do you like our friends? I love them already, and + know all their affairs. And now for the boat.” + </p> + <p> + “One moment—If we are friends on a great adventure, I must call you + Vanna, and you me Stephen.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose that is part of it,” she said, smiling. “Come, Stephen.” + </p> + <p> + It was like music, but a cold music that chilled me. She should have + hesitated, should have flushed—it was I who trembled. So I followed + her across the broad plank into our new home. + </p> + <p> + “This is our sitting-room. Look, how charming!” + </p> + <p> + It was better than charming; it was home indeed. Windows at each side + opening down almost to the water, a little table for meals that lived + mostly on the bank, with a grey pot of iris in the middle. Another table + for writing, photography, and all the little pursuits of travel. A + bookshelf with some well—worn friends. Two long cushioned chairs. + Two for meals, and a Bokhara rug, soft and pleasant for the feet. The + interior was plain unpainted wood, but set so that the grain showed like + satin in the rippling lights from the water. + </p> + <p> + That is the inventory of the place I have loved best in the world, but + what eloquence can describe what it gave me, what its memory gives me to + this day? And I have no eloquence—what I felt leaves me dumb. + </p> + <p> + “It is perfect,” was all I said as she waved her hand proudly. “It is + home.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you had come alone to Kashmir you would have had a great rich boat + with electric light and a butler. You would never have seen the people + except at meal—times. I think you will like this better. Well, this + is your tiny bedroom, and your bathroom, and beyond the sitting—room + are mine. Do you like it all?” + </p> + <p> + But I could say no more. The charm of her own personality had touched + everything and left its fragrance like a flower—breath in the air. I + was beggared of thanks, but my whole soul was gratitude. We dined on the + bank that evening, the lamp burning steadily in the still air and throwing + broken reflections in the water, while the moon looked in upon them + through the leaves. I felt extraordinarily young and happy. + </p> + <p> + The quiet of her voice was soft as the little lap of water against the + bows of the boat, and Kahdra, the Orange Imp, was singing a little + wordless song to himself as he washed the plates beside us. It was a + simple meal, and Vanna, abstemious as a hermit never ate anything but rice + and fruit, but I could remember no meal in all my days of luxury where I + had eaten with such zest. + </p> + <p> + “It looks very grand to have so many to wait upon us, doesn’t it? But this + is one of the cheapest countries in the world though the old timers mourn + over present expenses. You will laugh when I show you your share of the + cost.” + </p> + <p> + “The wealth of the world could not buy this,” I said, and was silent. + </p> + <p> + “But you must listen to my plans. We must do a little camping the last + three weeks before we part. Up in the mountains. Are they not marvellous? + They stand like a rampart round us, but not cold and terrible, but “Like + as the hills stand round about Jerusalem”—they are guardian + presences. And running up into them, high-very high, are the valleys and + hills where we shall camp. Tomorrow we shall row through Srinagar, by the + old Maharaja’s palace.” + </p> + <p> + V + </p> + <p> + And so began a life of sheer enchantment. We knew no one. The visitors in + Kashmir change nearly every season, and no one cared-no one asked anything + of us, and as for our shipmates, a willing affectionate service was their + gift, and no more. Looking back, I know in what a wonder-world I was + privileged to live. Vanna could talk with them all. She did not move + apart, a condescending or indifferent foreigner. Kahdra would come to her + knee and prattle to her of the great snake that lived up on Mahadeo to + devour erring boys who omitted their prayers at proper Moslem intervals. + She would sit with the baby in her lap while the mother busied herself in + the sunny bows with the mysterious dishes that smelt so savory to a hungry + man. The cuts, the bruises of the neighbourhood all came to Vanna for + treatment. + </p> + <p> + “I am graduating as a nurse,” she would say laughing as she bent over the + lean arm of some weirdly wrinkled old lady, bandaging and soothing at the + same moment. Her reward would be some bit of folk-lore, some quaintness of + gratitude that I noted down in the little book I kept for remembrance—that + I do not need, for every word is in my heart. + </p> + <p> + We rowed down through the city next day—Salama rowing, and little + Kahdra lazily paddling at the bow—a wonderful city, with its narrow + ways begrimed with the dirt of ages, and its balconied houses looking as + if disease and sin had soaked into them and given them a vicious tottering + beauty, horrible and yet lovely too. We saw the swarming life of the + bazaar, the white turbans coming and going, diversified by the rose and + yellow Hindu turbans, and the caste-marks, orange and red, on the dark + brows. + </p> + <p> + I saw two women—girls—painted and tired like Jezebel, looking + out of one window carved and old, and the grey burnished doves flying + about it. They leaned indolently, like all the old, old wickedness of the + East that yet is ever young—“Flowers of Delight,” with smooth black + hair braided with gold and blossoms, and covered with pale rose veils, and + gold embossed disks swinging like lamps beside the olive cheeks, the great + eyes artificially lengthened and darkened with soorma, and the curves of + the full lips emphasized with vermilion. They looked down on us with + apathy, a dull weariness that held all the old evil of the wicked humming + city. + </p> + <p> + It had taken shape in those indolent bodies and heavy eyes that could + flash into life as a snake wakes into fierce darting energy when the time + comes to spring—direct inheritrixes from Lilith, in the fittest + setting in the world—the almost exhausted vice of an Oriental city + as old as time. + </p> + <p> + “And look-below here,” said Vanna, pointing to one of the ghauts—long + rugged steps running down to the river. + </p> + <p> + “When I came yesterday, a great broken crowd was collected here, almost + shouldering each other into the water where a boat lay rocking. In it lay + the body of a man brutally murdered for the sake of a few rupees and flung + into the river. I could see the poor brown body stark in the boat with a + friend weeping beside it. On the lovely deodar bridge people leaned over, + watching with a grim open-mouthed curiosity, and business went on gaily + where the jewelers make the silver bangles for slender wrists, and the + rows of silver chains that make the necks like ‘the Tower of Damascus + builded for an armory.’ It was all very wild and cruel. I went down to + them-” + </p> + <p> + “Vanna—you went down? Horrible!” + </p> + <p> + “No, you see I heard them say the wife was almost a child and needs help. + So I went. Once long ago at Peshawar I saw the same thing happen, and they + came and took the child for the service of the gods, for she was most + lovely, and she clung to the feet of a man in terror, and the priest + stabbed her to the heart. She died in my arms. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” I said, shuddering; “what a sight for you! Did they never hang + him?” + </p> + <p> + “He was not punished. I told you it was a very long time ago. Her + expression had a brooding quiet as she looked down into the running river, + almost it might be as if she saw the picture of that past misery in the + deep water. She said no more. But in her words and the terrible crowding + of its life, Srinagar seemed to me more of a nightmare than anything I had + seen, excepting only Benares; for the holy Benares is a memory of horror, + with a sense of blood hidden under its frantic crazy devotion, and not far + hidden either. + </p> + <p> + “Our own green shade, when we pulled back to it in the evening cool, was a + refuge of unspeakable quiet. She read aloud to me that evening by the + small light of our lamp beneath the trees, and, singularly, she read of + joy. + </p> + <p> + “I have drunk of the Cup of the Ineffable, I have found the key of the + Mystery, Travelling by no track I have come to the Sorrowless Land; very + easily has the mercy of the great Lord come upon me. Wonderful is that + Land of rest to which no merit can win. There have I seen joy filled to + the brim, perfection of joy. He dances in rapture and waves of form arise + from His dance. He holds all within his bliss.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “It is from the songs of the great Indian mystic—Kabir. Let me read + you more. It is like the singing of a lark, lost in the infinite of light + and heaven.” + </p> + <p> + So in the soft darkness I heard for the first time those immortal words; + and hearing, a faint glimmer of understanding broke upon me as to the + source of the peace that surrounded her. I had accepted it as an emanation + of her own heart when it was the pulsing of the tide of the Divine. She + read, choosing a verse here and there, and I listened with absorption. + </p> + <p> + Suppose I had been wrong in believing that sorrow is the keynote of life; + that pain is the road of ascent, if road there be; that an implacable + Nature and that only, presides over all our pitiful struggles and seekings + and writes a black “Finis” to the holograph of our existence? + </p> + <p> + What then? What was she teaching me? Was she the Interpreter of a Beauty + eternal in the heavens, and reflected like a broken prism in the beauty + that walked visible beside me? So I listened like a child to an unknown + language, yet ventured my protest. + </p> + <p> + “In India, in this wonderful country where men have time and will for + speculation such thoughts may be natural. Can they be found in the West?” + </p> + <p> + “This is from the West—might not Kabir himself have said it? + Certainly he would have felt it. ‘Happy is he who seeks not to understand + the Mystery of God, but who, merging his spirit into Thine, sings to Thy + face, O Lord, like a harp, understanding how difficult it is to know—how + easy to love Thee.’ We debate and argue and the Vision passes us by. We + try to prove it, and kill it in the laboratory of our minds, when on the + altar of our souls it will dwell for ever.” + </p> + <p> + Silence—and I pondered. Finally she laid the book aside, and + repeated from memory and in a tone of perfect music; “Kabir says, ‘I shall + go to the House of my Lord with my Love at my side; then shall I sound the + trumpet of triumph.’” + </p> + <p> + And when she left me alone in the moonlight silence the old doubts came + back to me—the fear that I saw only through her eyes, and began to + believe in joy only because I loved her. I remember I wrote in the little + book I kept for my stray thoughts, these words which are not mine but + reflect my thought of her; “Thine is the skill of the Fairy Woman, and the + virtue of St. Bride, and the faith of Mary the Mild, and the gracious way + of the Greek woman, and the beauty of lovely Emer, and the tenderness of + heart-sweet Deirdre, and the courage of Maev the great Queen, and the + charm of Mouth-of-Music.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, all that and more, but I feared lest I should see the heaven of joy + through her eyes only and find it mirage as I had found so much else. + </p> + <p> + SECOND PART Early in the pure dawn the men came and our boat was towed up + into the Dal Lake through crystal waterways and flowery banks, the men on + the path keeping step and straining at the rope until the bronze muscles + stood out on their legs and backs, shouting strong rhythmic phrases to + mark the pull. + </p> + <p> + “They shout the Wondrous Names of God—as they are called,” said + Vanna when I asked. “They always do that for a timid effort. Bad shah! The + Lord, the Compassionate, and so on. I don’t think there is any religion + about it but it is as natural to them as One, Two, Three, to us. It gives + a tremendous lift. Watch and see.” + </p> + <p> + It was part of the delightful strangeness that we should move to that + strong music. We sat on the upper deck and watched the dream—like + beauty drift slowly by until we emerged beneath a little bridge into the + fairy land of the lake which the Mogul Emperors loved so well that they + made their noble pleasance gardens on the banks, and thought it little to + travel up yearly from far—off Delhi over the snowy Pir Panjal with + their Queens and courts for the perfect summer of Kashmir. + </p> + <p> + We moored by a low bank under a great wood of chenar trees, and saw the + little table in the wilderness set in the greenest shade with our chairs + beside it, and my pipe laid reverently upon it by Kahdra. + </p> + <p> + Across the glittering water lay on one side the Shalimar Garden known to + all readers of “Lalla Ruhk”—a paradise of roses; and beyond it again + the lovelier gardens of Nour-Mahal, the Light of the Palace, that imperial + woman who ruled India under the weak Emperor’s name—she whose name + he set thus upon his coins: + </p> + <p> + “By order of King Jehangir. Gold has a hundred splendours added to it by + receiving the name of Nour-Jahan the Queen.” + </p> + <p> + Has any woman ever had a more royal homage than this most royal lady—known + first as Mihr-u-nissa—Sun of Women, and later, Nour-Mahal, Light of + the Palace, and latest, Nour-Jahan-Begam, Queen, Light of the World? + </p> + <p> + Here in these gardens she had lived—had seen the snow mountains + change from the silver of dawn to the illimitable rose of sunset. The + life, the colour beat insistently upon my brain. They built a world of + magic where every moment was pure gold. Surely—surely to Vanna it + must be the same. I believed in my very soul that she who gave and shared + such joy could not be utterly apart from me? Could I then feel certain + that I had gained any ground in these days we had been together? Could she + still define the cruel limits she had laid down, or were her eyes kinder, + her tones a more broken music? I did not know. Whenever I could hazard a + guess the next minute baffled me. + </p> + <p> + Just then, in the sunset, she was sitting on deck, singing under her + breath and looking absently away to the Gardens across the Lake. I could + catch the words here and there, and knew them. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar, + Where are you now—who lies beneath your spell? + Whom do you lead on Rapture’s roadway far, + Before you agonize them in farewell?” + </pre> + <p> + “Don’t!” I said abruptly. It stung me. + </p> + <p> + “What?” she asked in surprise. “That is the song every one remembers here. + Poor Laurence Hope! How she knew and loved this India! What are you + grumbling at?” + </p> + <p> + Her smile stung me. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” I said morosely. “You don’t understand. You never will.” + </p> + <p> + And yet I believed sometimes that she would—that time was on my + side. + </p> + <p> + When Kahdra and I pulled her across to Nour-Mahal’s garden next day, how + could I not believe it—her face was so full of joy as she looked at + me for sympathy? + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think so much beauty is crowded into any other few miles in the + world—beauty of association, history, nature, everything!” she said + with shining eyes. “The lotus flowers are not out yet but when they come + that is the last touch of perfection. Do you remember Homer—‘But + whoso ate of the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus, was neither willing to + bring me word again, nor to depart. Nay, their desire was to remain there + for ever, feeding on the lotus with the Lotus Eaters, forgetful of all + return.’ You know the people here eat the roots and seeds? I ate them last + year and perhaps that is why I cannot stay away. But look at Nour-Mahal’s + garden!” + </p> + <p> + We were pulling in among the reeds and the huge carven leaves of the water + plants, and the snake-headed buds lolling upon them with the slippery + half-sinister look that water-flowers have, as though their cold secret + life belonged to the hidden water world and not to ours. But now the boat + was touching the little wooden steps. + </p> + <p> + O beautiful—most beautiful the green lawns, shaded with huge + pyramids of the chenar trees, the terraced gardens where the marble steps + climbed from one to the other, and the mountain streams flashed singing + and shining down the carved marble slopes that cunning hands had made to + delight the Empress of Beauty, between the wildernesses of roses. Her + pavilion stands still among the flowers, and the waters ripple through it + to join the lake—and she is—where? Even in the glory of + sunshine the passing of all fair things was present with me as I saw the + empty shell that had held the Pearl of Empire, and her roses that still + bloom, her waters that still sing for others. + </p> + <p> + The spray of a hundred fountains was misty diamond dust in the warm air + laden with the scent of myriad flowers. Kahdra followed us everywhere, + singing his little tuneless happy song. The world brimmed with beauty and + joy. And we were together. Words broke from me. + </p> + <p> + “Vanna, let it be for ever! Let us live here. I’ll give up all the world + for this and you.” + </p> + <p> + “But you see,” she said delicately, “it would be ‘giving up.’ You use the + right word. It is not your life. It is a lovely holiday, no more. You + would weary of it. You would want the city life and your own kind.” + </p> + <p> + I protested with all my soul. + </p> + <p> + “No. Indeed I will say frankly that it would be lowering yourself to live + a lotus-eating life among my people. It is a life with which you have no + tie. A Westerner who lives like that steps down; he loses his birthright + just as an Oriental does who Europeanizes himself. He cannot live your + life nor you his. If you had work here it would be different. No—six + or eight weeks more; then go away and forget it.” + </p> + <p> + I turned from her. The serpent was in Paradise. When is he absent? + </p> + <p> + On one of the terraces a man was beating a tom-tom, and veiled women + listened, grouped about him in brilliant colours. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t that all India?” she said; “that dull reiterated sound? It half + stupefies, half maddens. Once at Darjiling I saw the Lamas’ Devil Dance—the + soul, a white-faced child with eyes unnaturally enlarged, fleeing among a + rabble of devils—the evil passions. It fled wildly here and there + and every way was blocked. The child fell on its knees, screaming dumbly—you + could see the despair in the staring eyes, but all was drowned in the + thunder of Tibetan drums. No mercy—no escape. Horrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Even in Europe the drum is awful,” I said. “Do you remember in the French + Revolution how they Drowned the victims’ voices in a thunder roll of + drums?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall always see the face of the child, hunted down to hell, falling on + its knees, and screaming without a sound, when I hear the drum. But listen—a + flute! Now if that were the Flute of Krishna you would have to follow. Let + us come!” + </p> + <p> + I could hear nothing of it, but she insisted and we followed the music, + inaudible to me, up the slopes of the garden that is the foot-hill of the + mighty mountain of Mahadeo, and still I could hear nothing. And Vanna told + me strange stories of the Apollo of India whom all hearts must adore, even + as the herd-girls adored him in his golden youth by Jumna river and in the + pastures of Brindaban. + </p> + <p> + Next day we were climbing the hill to the ruins where the evil magician + brought the King’s daughter nightly to his will, flying low under a golden + moon. Vanna took my arm and I pulled her laughing up the steepest flowery + slopes until we reached the height, and lo! the arched windows were + eyeless and a lonely breeze blowing through the cloisters, and the + beautiful yellowish stone arches supported nothing and were but frames for + the blue of far lake and mountain and the divine sky. We climbed the + broken stairs where the lizards went by like flashes, and had I the tongue + of men and angels I could not tell the wonder that lay before us,—the + whole wide valley of Kashmir in summer glory, with its scented breeze + singing, singing above it. + </p> + <p> + We sat on the crushed aromatic herbs and among the wild roses and looked + down. + </p> + <p> + “To think,” she said, “that we might have died and never seen it!” + </p> + <p> + There followed a long silence. I thought she was tired, and would not + break it. Suddenly she spoke in a strange voice, low and toneless; + </p> + <p> + “The story of this place. She was the Princess Padmavati, and her home was + in Ayodhya. When she woke and found herself here by the lake she was so + terrified that she flung herself in and was drowned. They held her back, + but she died.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Because a wandering monk came to the abbey of Tahkt-i-Bahi near Peshawar + and told Vasettha the Abbot.” + </p> + <p> + I had nearly spoilt all by an exclamation, but I held myself back. I saw + she was dreaming awake and was unconscious of what she said. + </p> + <p> + “The Abbot said, ‘Do not describe her. What talk is this for holy men? The + young monks must not hear. Some of them have never seen a woman. Should a + monk speak of such toys?’ But the wanderer disobeyed and spoke, and there + was a great tumult, and the monks threw him out at the command of the + young Abbot, and he wandered down to Peshawar, and it was he later—the + evil one!—that brought his sister, Lilavanti the Dancer, to + Peshawar, and the Abbot fell into her snare. That was his revenge!” + </p> + <p> + Her face was fixed and strange, for a moment her cheek looked hollow, her + eyes dim and grief-worn. What was she seeing?—what remembering? Was + it a story—a memory? What was it? + </p> + <p> + “She was beautiful?” I prompted. + </p> + <p> + “Men have said so, but for it he surrendered the Peace. Do not speak of + her accursed beauty.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice died away to a drowsy murmur; her head dropped on my shoulder + and for the mere delight of contact I sat still and scarcely breathed, + praying that she might speak again, but the good minute was gone. She drew + one or two deep breaths, and sat up with a bewildered look that quickly + passed. + </p> + <p> + “I was quite sleepy for a minute. The climb was so strenuous. Hark—I + hear the Flute of Krishna again.” + </p> + <p> + And again I could hear nothing, but she said it was sounding from the + trees at the base of the hill. Later when we climbed down I found she was + right—that a peasant lad, dark and amazingly beautiful as these + Kashmiris often are, was playing on the flute to a girl at his feet—looking + up at him with rapt eyes. He flung Vanna a flower as we passed. She caught + it and put it in her bosom. A singular blossom, three petals of purest + white, set against three leaves of purest green, and lower down the stem + the three green leaves were repeated. It was still in her bosom after + dinner, and I looked at it more closely. + </p> + <p> + “That is a curious flower,” I said. “Three and three and three. Nine. That + makes the mystic number. I never saw a purer white. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is mystic,” she said seriously. “It is the Ninefold Flower. + You saw who gave it?” + </p> + <p> + “That peasant lad.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You will see more some day. Some might not even have seen that.” + </p> + <p> + “Does it grow here?” + </p> + <p> + “This is the first I have seen. It is said to grow only where the gods + walk. Do you know that throughout all India Kashmir is said to be holy + ground? It was called long ago the land of the gods, and of strange, but + not evil, sorceries. Great marvels were seen here.” + </p> + <p> + I felt the labyrinthine enchantments of that enchanted land were closing + about me—a slender web, grey, almost impalpable, finer than fairy + silk, was winding itself about my feet. My eyes were opening to things I + had not dreamed. She saw my thought. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you could not have seen even that much of him in Peshawar. You did + not know then.” + </p> + <p> + “He was not there,” I answered, falling half unconsciously into her tone. + </p> + <p> + “He is always there—everywhere, and when he plays, all who hear must + follow. He was the Pied Piper in Hamelin, he was Pan in Hellas. You will + hear his wild fluting in many strange places when you know how to listen. + When one has seen him the rest comes soon. And then you will follow.” + </p> + <p> + “Not away from you, Vanna.” + </p> + <p> + “From the marriage feast, from the Table of the Lord,” she said, smiling + strangely. “The man who wrote that spoke of another call, but it is the + same—Krishna or Christ. When we hear the music we follow. And we may + lose or gain heaven.” + </p> + <p> + It might have been her compelling personality—it might have been the + marvels of beauty about me, but I knew well I had entered at some mystic + gate. A pass word had been spoken for me—I was vouched for and might + go in. Only a little way as yet. Enchanted forests lay beyond, and + perilous seas, but there were hints, breaths like the wafting of the + garments of unspeakable Presences. My talk with Vanna grew less personal, + and more introspective. I felt the touch of her finger-tips leading me + along the ways of Quiet—my feet brushed a shining dew. Once, in the + twilight under the chenar trees, I saw a white gleaming and thought it a + swiftly passing Being, but when in haste I gained the tree I found there + only a Ninefold flower, white as a spirit in the evening calm. I would not + gather it but told Vanna what I had seen. + </p> + <p> + “You nearly saw;” she said. “She passed so quickly. It was the Snowy One, + Uma, Parvati, the Daughter of the Himalaya. That mountain is the mountain + of her lord—Shiva. It is natural she should be here. I saw her last + night lean over the height—her face pillowed on her folded arms, + with a low star in the mists of her hair. Her eyes were like lakes of blue + darkness. Vast and wonderful. She is the Mystic Mother of India. You will + see soon. You could not have seen the flower until now.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” she added, “that in the mountains there are poppies of + clear blue—blue as turquoise. We will go up into the heights and + find them.” + </p> + <p> + And next moment she was planning the camping details, the men, the ponies, + with a practical zest that seemed to relegate the occult to the absurd. + Yet the very next day came a wonderful moment. + </p> + <p> + The sun was just setting and, as it were, suddenly the purple glooms + banked up heavy with thunder. The sky was black with fury, the earth + passive with dread. I never saw such lightning—it was continuous and + tore in zigzag flashes down the mountains like rents in the substance of + the world’s fabric. And the thunder roared up in the mountain gorges with + shattering echoes. Then fell the rain, and the whole lake seemed to rise + to meet it, and the noise was like the rattle of musketry. We were + standing by the cabin window and she suddenly caught my hand, and I saw in + a light of their own two dancing figures on the tormented water before us. + Wild in the tumult, embodied delight, with arms tossed violently above + their heads, and feet flung up behind them, skimming the waves like + seagulls, they passed. Their sex I could not tell—I think they had + none, but were bubble emanations of the rejoicing rush of the rain and the + wild retreating laughter of the thunder. I saw the fierce aerial faces and + their inhuman glee as they fled by, and she dropped my hand and they were + gone. Slowly the storm lessened, and in the west the clouds tore raggedly + asunder and a flood of livid yellow light poured down upon the lake—an + awful light that struck it into an abyss of fire. Then, as if at a word of + command, two glorious rainbows sprang across the water with the mountains + for their piers, each with its proper colours chorded. They made a Bridge + of Dread that stood out radiant against the background of storm—the + Twilight of the Gods, and the doomed gods marching forth to the last + fight. And the thunder growled sullenly away into the recesses of the hill + and the terrible rainbows faded until the stars came quietly out and it + was a still night. + </p> + <p> + But I had seen that what is our dread is the joy of the spirits of the + Mighty Mother, and though the vision faded and I doubted what I had seen, + it prepared the way for what I was yet to see. A few days later we started + on what was to be the most exquisite memory of my life. A train of ponies + carried our tents and camping necessaries and there was a pony for each of + us. And so, in the cool grey of a divine morning, with little rosy clouds + flecking the eastern sky, we set out from Islamabad for Vernag. And this + was the order of our going. She and I led the way, attended by a sais + (groom) and a coolie carrying the luncheon basket. Half way we would stop + in some green dell, or by some rushing stream, and there rest and eat our + little meal while the rest of the cavalcade passed on to the appointed + camping place, and in the late afternoon we would follow, riding slowly, + and find the tents pitched and the kitchen department in full swing. If + the place pleased us we lingered for some days;—if not, the camp was + struck next morning, and again we wandered in search of beauty. + </p> + <p> + The people were no inconsiderable part of my joy. I cannot see what they + have to gain from such civilization as ours—a kindly people and + happy. Courtesy and friendliness met us everywhere, and if their labor was + hard, their harvest of beauty and laughter seemed to be its reward. The + little villages with their groves of walnut and fruit trees spoke of no + unfulfilled want, the mulberries which fatten the sleek bears in their + season fattened the children too. I compared their lot with that of the + toilers in our cities and knew which I would choose. We rode by shimmering + fields of barley, with red poppies floating in the clear transparent green + as in deep sea water, through fields of millet like the sky fallen on the + earth, so innocently blue were its blossoms, and the trees above us were + trellised with the wild roses, golden and crimson, and the ways tapestried + with the scented stars of the large white jasmine. + </p> + <p> + It was strange that later much of what she said, escaped me. Some I noted + down at the time, but there were hints, shadows of lovelier things beyond + that eluded all but the fringes of memory when I tried to piece them + together and make a coherence of a living wonder. For that reason, the + best things cannot be told in this history. It is only the cruder, grosser + matters that words will hold. The half-touchings—vanishing looks, + breaths—O God, I know them, but cannot tell. + </p> + <p> + In the smaller villages, the head man came often to greet us and make us + welcome, bearing on a flat dish a little offering of cakes and fruit, the + produce of the place. One evening a man so approached, stately in white + robes and turban, attended by a little lad who carried the patriarchal + gift beside him. Our tents were pitched under a glorious walnut tree with + a running stream at our feet. + </p> + <p> + Vanna of course, was the interpreter, and I called her from her tent as + the man stood salaaming before me. It was strange that when she came, + dressed in white, he stopped in his salutation, and gazed at her in what, + I thought, was silent wonder. + </p> + <p> + She spoke earnestly to him, standing before him with clasped hands, + almost, I could think, in the attitude of a suppliant. The man listened + gravely, with only an interjection, now and again, and once he turned and + looked curiously at me. Then he spoke, evidently making some announcement + which she received with bowed head—and when he turned to go with a + grave salute, she performed a very singular ceremony, moving slowly round + him three times with clasped hands; keeping him always on the right. He + repaid it with the usual salaam and greeting of peace, which he bestowed + also on me, and then departed in deep meditation, his eyes fixed on the + ground. I ventured to ask what it all meant, and she looked thoughtfully + at me before replying. + </p> + <p> + “It was a strange thing. I fear you will not altogether understand, but I + will tell you what I can. That man though living here among Mahomedans, is + a Brahman from Benares, and, what is very rare in India, a Buddhist. And + when he saw me he believed he remembered me in a former birth. The + ceremony you saw me perform is one of honour in India. It was his due.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you remember him?” I knew my voice was incredulous. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. He has changed little but is further on the upward path. I saw + him with dread for he holds the memory of a great wrong I did. Yet he told + me a thing that has filled my heart with joy.” + </p> + <p> + “Vanna-what is it?” + </p> + <p> + She had a clear uplifted look which startled me. There was suddenly a + chill air blowing between us. + </p> + <p> + “I must not tell you yet but you will know soon. He was a good man. I am + glad we have met.” + </p> + <p> + She buried herself in writing in a small book I had noticed and longed to + look into, and no more was said. + </p> + <p> + We struck camp next day and trekked on towards Vernag—a rough march, + but one of great beauty, beneath the shade of forest trees, garlanded with + pale roses that climbed from bough to bough and tossed triumphant wreaths + into the uppermost blue. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon thunder was flapping its wings far off in the mountains + and a little rain fell while we were lunching under a big tree. I was + considering anxiously how to shelter Vanna, when a farmer invited us to + his house—a scene of Biblical hospitality that delighted us both. He + led us up some break-neck little stairs to a large bare room, open to the + clean air all round the roof, and with a kind of rough enclosure on the + wooden floor where the family slept at night. There he opened our basket, + and then, with anxious care, hung clothes and rough draperies about us + that our meal might be unwatched by one or two friends who had followed us + in with breathless interest. Still further to entertain us a great rarity + was brought out and laid at Vanna’s feet as something we might like to + watch—a curious bird in a cage, with brightly barred wings and a + singular cry. She fed it with fruit, and it fluttered to her hand. Just so + Abraham might have welcomed his guests, and when we left with words of + deepest gratitude, our host made the beautiful obeisance of touching his + forehead with joined hands as he bowed. To me the whole incident had an + extraordinary grace, and ennobled both host and guest. But we met an + ascending scale of loveliness so varied in its aspects that I passed from + one emotion to another and knew no sameness. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon the camp was pitched at the foot of a mighty hill, under + the waving pyramids of the chenars, sweeping their green like the robes of + a goddess. Near by was a half circle of low arches falling into ruin, and + as we went in among them I beheld a wondrous sight—the huge + octagonal tank or basin made by the Mogul Emperor Jehangir to receive the + waters of a mighty Spring which wells from the hill and has been held + sacred by Hindu and Moslem. And if loveliness can sanctify surely it is + sacred indeed. + </p> + <p> + The tank was more than a hundred feet in diameter and circled by a roughly + paved pathway where the little arched cells open that the devotees may sit + and contemplate the lustral waters. There on a black stone, is sculptured + the Imperial inscription comparing this spring to the holier wells of + Paradise, and I thought no less of it, for it rushes straight from the + rock with no aiding stream, and its waters are fifty feet deep, and sweep + away from this great basin through beautiful low arches in a wild foaming + river—the crystal life-blood of the mountains for ever welling away. + The colour and perfect purity of this living jewel were most marvellous—clear + blue-green like a chalcedony, but changing as the lights in an opal—a + wonderful quivering brilliance, flickering with the silver of shoals of + sacred fish. + </p> + <p> + But the Mogul Empire is with the snows of yesteryear and the wonder has + passed from the Moslems into the keeping of the Hindus once more, and the + Lingam of Shiva, crowned with flowers, is the symbol in the little shrine + by the entrance. Surely in India, the gods are one and have no jealousies + among them—so swiftly do their glories merge the one into the other. + </p> + <p> + “How all the Mogul Emperors loved running water,” said Vanna. “I can see + them leaning over it in their carved pavilions with delicate dark faces + and pensive eyes beneath their turbans, lost in the endless reverie of the + East while liquid melody passes into their dream. It was the music they + best loved.” + </p> + <p> + She was leading me into the royal garden below, where the young river + flows beneath the pavilion set above and across the rush of the water. + </p> + <p> + “I remember before I came to India,” she went on, “there were certain + words and phrases that meant the whole East to me. It was an enchantment. + The first flash picture I had was Milton’s— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Dark faces with white silken turbans wreathed.’ +</pre> + <p> + and it still is. I have thought ever since that every man should wear a + turban. It dignifies the un-comeliest and it is quite curious to see how + many inches a man descends in the scale of beauty the moment he takes it + off and you see only the skull-cap about which they wind it. They wind it + with wonderful skill too. I have seen a man take eighteen yards of muslin + and throw it round his head with a few turns, and in five or six minutes + the beautiful folds were all in order and he looked like a king. Some of + the Gujars here wear black ones and they are very effective and worth + painting—the black folds and the sullen tempestuous black brows + underneath.” + </p> + <p> + We sat in the pavilion for awhile looking down on the rushing water, and + she spoke of Akbar, the greatest of the Moguls, and spoke with a curious + personal touch, as I thought. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would try to write a story of him—one on more human + lines than has been done yet. No one has accounted for the passionate + quest of truth that was the real secret of his life. Strange in an + Oriental despot if you think of it! It really can only be understood from + the Buddhist belief, which curiously seems to have been the only one he + neglected, that a mysterious Karma influenced all his thoughts. If I tell + you as a key-note for your story, that in a past life he had been a + Buddhist priest—one who had fallen away, would that in any way + account to you for attempts to recover the lost way? Try to think that + out, and to write the story, not as a Western mind sees it, but pure + East.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be a great book to write if one could catch the voices of the + past. But how to do it?” + </p> + <p> + “I will give you one day a little book that may help you. The other story + I wish you would write is the story of a Dancer of Peshawar. There is a + connection between the two—a story of ruin and repentance.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell it to me?” + </p> + <p> + “A part. In this same book you will find much more, but not all. All + cannot be told. You must imagine much. But I think your imagination will + be true.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Because in these few days you have learnt so much. You have seen the + Ninefold Flower, and the rain spirits. You will soon hear the Flute of + Krishna which none can hear who cannot dream true.” + </p> + <p> + That night I heard it. I waked, suddenly, to music, and standing in the + door of my tent, in the dead silence of the night, lit only by a few low + stars, I heard the poignant notes of a flute. If it had called my name it + could not have summoned me more clearly, and I followed without a thought + of delay, forgetting even Vanna in the strange urgency that filled me. The + music was elusive, seeming to come first from one side, then from the + other, but finally I tracked it as a bee does a flower by the scent, to + the gate of the royal garden—the pleasure place of the dead + Emperors. + </p> + <p> + The gate stood ajar—strange! for I had seen the custodian close it + that evening. Now it stood wide and I went in, walking noiselessly over + the dewy grass. I knew and could not tell how, that I must be noiseless. + Passing as if I were guided, down the course of the strong young river, I + came to the pavilion that spanned it—the place where we had stood + that afternoon—and there to my profound amazement, I saw Vanna, + leaning against a slight wooden pillar. As if she had expected me, she + laid one finger on her lip, and stretching out her hand, took mine and + drew me beside her as a mother might a child. And instantly I saw! + </p> + <p> + On the further bank a young man in a strange diadem or miter of jewels, + bare-breasted and beautiful, stood among the flowering oleanders, one foot + lightly crossed over the other as he stood. He was like an image of pale + radiant gold, and I could have sworn that the light came from within + rather than fell upon him, for the night was very dark. He held the flute + to his lips, and as I looked, I became aware that the noise of the rushing + water was tapering off into a murmur scarcely louder than that of a summer + bee in the heart of a rose. Therefore the music rose like a fountain of + crystal drops, cold, clear, and of an entrancing sweetness, and the face + above it was such that I had no power to turn my eyes away. How shall I + say what it was? All I had ever desired, dreamed, hoped, prayed, looked at + me from the remote beauty of the eyes and with the most persuasive + gentleness entreated me, rather than commanded to follow fearlessly and + win. But these are words, and words shaped in the rough mould of thought + cannot convey the deep desire that would have hurled me to his feet if + Vanna had not held me with a firm restraining hand. Looking up in adoring + love to the dark face was a ring of woodland creatures. I thought I could + distinguish the white clouded robe of a snow-leopard, the soft clumsiness + of a young bear, and many more, but these shifted and blurred like dream + creatures—I could not be sure of them nor define their numbers. The + eyes of the Player looked down upon their passionate delight with careless + kindness. + </p> + <p> + Dim images passed through my mind. Orpheus—No, this was no Greek. + Pan-yet again, No. Where were the pipes, the goat hoofs? The young + Dionysos—No, there were strange jewels instead of his vines. And + then Vanna’s voice said as if from a great distance; + </p> + <p> + “Krishna—the Beloved.” And I said aloud, “I see!” And even as I said + it the whole picture blurred together like a dream, and I was alone in the + pavilion and the water was foaming past me. Had I walked in my sleep, I + thought, as I made my way hack? As I gained the garden gate, before me, + like a snowflake, I saw the Ninefold Flower. + </p> + <p> + When I told her next day, speaking of it as a dream, she said simply; + “They have opened the door to you. You will not need me soon. + </p> + <p> + “I shall always need you. You have taught me everything. I could see + nothing last night until you took my hand.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not there,” she said smiling. “It was only the thought of me, and + you can have that when I am very far away. I was sleeping in my tent. What + you called in me then you can always call, even if I am—dead.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a word which is beginning to have no meaning for me. You have + said things to me—no, thought them, that have made me doubt if there + is room in the universe for the thing we have called death.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled her sweet wise smile. + </p> + <p> + “Where we are death is not. Where death is we are not. But you will + understand better soon.” + </p> + <p> + Our march curving took us by the Mogul gardens of Achibal, and the + glorious ruins of the great Temple at Martund, and so down to Bawan with + its crystal waters and that loveliest camping ground beside them. A mighty + grove of chenar trees, so huge that I felt as if we were in a great sea + cave where the air is dyed with the deep shadowy green of the inmost + ocean, and the murmuring of the myriad leaves was like a sea at rest. I + looked up into the noble height and my memory of Westminster dwindled, for + this led on and up to the infinite blue, and at night the stars hung like + fruit upon the branches. The water ran with a great joyous rush of release + from the mountain behind, but was first received in a broad basin full of + sacred fish and reflecting a little temple of Maheshwara and one of Surya + the Sun. Here in this basin the water lay pure and still as an ecstasy, + and beside it was musing the young Brahman priest who served the temple. + Since I had joined Vanna I had begun with her help to study a little + Hindustani, and with an aptitude for language could understand here and + there. I caught a word or two as she spoke with him that startled me, when + the high-bred ascetic face turned serenely upon her, and he addressed her + as “My sister,” adding a sentence beyond my learning, but which she + willingly translated later.—“May He who sits above the Mysteries, + have mercy upon thy rebirth.” + </p> + <p> + She said afterwards; + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful some of these men are. It seems a different type of beauty + from ours, nearer to nature and the old gods. Look at that priest—the + tall figure, the clear olive skin, the dark level brows, the long lashes + that make a soft gloom about the eyes—eyes that have the fathomless + depth of a deer’s, the proud arch of the lip. I think there is no country + where aristocracy is more clearly marked than in India. The Brahmans are + aristocrats of the world. You see it is a religious aristocracy as well. + It has everything that can foster pride and exclusiveness. They spring + from the Mouth of Deity. They are His word incarnate. Not many kings are + of the Brahman caste, and the Brahmans look down upon them from Sovereign + heights. I have known men who would not eat with their own rulers who + would have drunk the water that washed the Brahmans’ feet.” + </p> + <p> + She took me that day, the Brahman with us, to see a cave in the mountain. + We climbed up the face of the cliff to where a little tree grew on a + ledge, and the black mouth yawned. We went in and often it was so low we + had to stoop, leaving the sunlight behind until it was like a dim eye + glimmering in the velvet blackness. The air was dank and cold and + presently obscene with the smell of bats, and alive with their wings, as + they came sweeping about us, gibbering and squeaking. I thought of the + rush of the ghosts, blown like dead leaves in the Odyssey. And then a + small rock chamber branched off, and in this, lit by a bit of burning + wood, we saw the bones of a holy man who lived and died there four hundred + years ago. Think of it! He lived there always, with the slow dropping of + water from the dead weight of the mountain above his head, drop by drop + tolling the minutes away: the little groping feet through the cave that + would bring him food and drink, hurrying into the warmth and sunlight + again, and his only companion the sacred Lingam which means the Creative + Energy that sets the worlds dancing for joy round the sun—that, and + the black solitude to sit down beside him. Surely his bones can hardly be + dryer and colder now than they were then! There must be strange ecstasies + in such a life—wild visions in the dark, or it could never be + endured. + </p> + <p> + And so, in marches of about ten miles a day, we came to Pahlgam on the + banks of the dancing Lidar. There was now only three weeks left of the + time she had promised. After a few days at Pahlgam the march would turn + and bend its way back to Srinagar, and to—what? I could not believe + it was to separation—in her lovely kindness she had grown so close + to me that, even for the sake of friendship, I believed our paths must run + together to the end, and there were moments when I could still half + convince myself that I had grown as necessary to her as she was to me. No—not + as necessary, for she was life and soul to me, but a part of her daily + experience that she valued and would not easily part with. That evening we + were sitting outside the tents, near the camp fire, of pine logs and + cones, the leaping flames making the night beautiful with gold and leaping + sparks, in an attempt to reach the mellow splendours of the moon. The men, + in various attitudes of rest, were lying about, and one had been telling a + story which had just ended in excitement and loud applause. + </p> + <p> + “These are Mahomedans,” said Vanna, “and it is only a story of love and + fighting like the Arabian Nights. If they had been Hindus, it might well + have been of Krishna or of Rama and Sita. Their faith comes from an + earlier time and they still see visions. The Moslem is a hard practical + faith for men—men of the world too. It is not visionary now, though + it once had its great mysteries.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would tell me what you think of the visions or apparitions of + the gods that are seen here. Is it all illusion? Tell me your thought.” + </p> + <p> + “How difficult that is to answer. I suppose if love and faith are strong + enough they will always create the vibrations to which the greater + vibrations respond, and so make God in their own image at any time or + place. But that they call up what is the truest reality I have never + doubted. There is no shadow without a substance. The substance is beyond + us but under certain conditions the shadow is projected and we see it. + </p> + <p> + “Have I seen or has it been dream?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell. It may have been the impress of my mind on yours, for I + see such things always. You say I took your hand?” + </p> + <p> + “Take it now.” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed, and instantly, as I felt the firm cool clasp, I heard the rain + of music through the pines—the Flute Player was passing. She dropped + it smiling and the sweet sound ceased. + </p> + <p> + “You see! How can I tell what you have seen? You will know better when I + am gone. You will stand alone then.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not go—you cannot. I have seen how you have loved all this + wonderful time. I believe it has been as dear to you as to me. And every + day I have loved you more. I depend upon you for everything that makes + life worth living. You could not—you who are so gentle—you + could not commit the senseless cruelty of leaving me when you have taught + me to love you with every beat of my heart. I have been patient—I + have held myself in, but I must speak now. Marry me, and teach me. I know + nothing. You know all I need to know. For pity’s sake be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + I had not meant to say it; it broke from me in the firelight moonlight + with a power that I could not stay. She looked at me with a disarming + gentleness. + </p> + <p> + “Is this fair? Do you remember how at Peshawar I told you I thought it was + a dangerous experiment, and that it would make things harder for you. But + you took the risk like a brave man because you felt there were things to + be gained—knowledge, insight, beauty. Have you not gained them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Absolutely.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, is it all loss if I go?” + </p> + <p> + “Not all. But loss I dare not face.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you this. I could not stay if I would. Do you remember the + old man on the way to Vernag? He told me that I must very soon take up an + entirely new life. I have no choice, though if I had I would still do it.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence and down a long arcade, without any touch of her hand I + heard the music, receding with exquisite modulations to a very great + distance, and between the pillared stems, I saw a faint light. + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely. But I shall not forget you, Stephen. I will tell you something. + For me, since I came to India, the gate that shuts us out at birth has + opened. How shall I explain? Do you remember Kipling’s ‘Finest Story in + the World’?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Fiction!” + </p> + <p> + “Not fiction—true, whether he knew it or no. But for me the door has + opened wide. First, I remembered piecemeal, with wide gaps, then more + connectedly. Then, at the end of the first year, I met one day at + Cawnpore, an ascetic, an old man of great beauty and wisdom, and he was + able by his own knowledge to enlighten mine. Not wholly—much has + come since then. Has come, some of it in ways you could not understand + now, but much by direct sight and hearing. Long, long ago I lived in + Peshawar, and my story was a sorrowful one. I will tell you a little + before I go.” + </p> + <p> + “I hold you to your promise. What is there I cannot believe when you tell + me? But does that life put you altogether away from me? Was there no place + for me in any of your memories that has drawn us together now? Give me a + little hope that in the eternal pilgrimage there is some bond between us + and some rebirth where we may met again.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you that also before we part. I have grown to believe that + you do love me—and therefore love something which is infinitely + above me.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you love me at all? Am I nothing, Vanna—Vanna?” + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” she said, and laid her hand on mine. + </p> + <p> + A silence, and then she spoke, very low. + </p> + <p> + “You must be prepared for very great change, Stephen, and yet believe that + it does not really change things at all. See how even the gods pass and do + not change! The early gods of India are gone and Shiva, Vishnu, Krishna + have taken their places and are one and the same. The old Buddhist stories + say that in heaven “The flowers of the garland the God wore are withered, + his robes of majesty are waxed old and faded; he falls from his high + estate, and is re-born into a new life.” But he lives still in the young + God who is born among men. The gods cannot die, nor can we nor anything + that has life. Now I must go in.” + </p> + <p> + I sat long in the moonlight thinking. The whole camp was sunk in sleep and + the young dawn was waking upon the peaks when I turned in. + </p> + <p> + The days that were left we spent in wandering up the Lidar River to the + hills that are the first ramp of the ascent to the great heights. We found + the damp corners where the mushrooms grow like pearls—the mushrooms + of which she said—“To me they have always been fairy things. To see + them in the silver-grey dew of the early mornings—mysteriously there + like the manna in the desert—they are elfin plunder, and as a child + I was half afraid of them. No wonder they are the darlings of folklore, + especially in Celtic countries where the Little People move in the + starlight. Strange to think they are here too among strange gods!” + </p> + <p> + We climbed to where the wild peonies bloom in glory that few eyes see, and + the rosy beds of wild sweet strawberries ripen. Every hour brought with it + some new delight, some exquisiteness of sight or of words that I shall remember + for ever. She sat one day on a rock, holding the sculptured leaves and + massive seed-vessels of some glorious plant that the Kashmiris believe has + magic virtues hidden in the seeds of pure rose embedded in the white down. + </p> + <p> + “If you fast for three days and eat nine of these in the Night of No Moon, + you can rise on the air light as thistledown and stand on the peak of + Haramoukh. And on Haramoukh, as you know it is believed, the gods dwell. + There was a man here who tried this enchantment. He was a changed man for + ever after, wandering and muttering to himself and avoiding all human + intercourse as far as he could. He was no Kashmiri—A Jat from the + Punjab, and they showed him to me when I was here with the Meryons, and + told me he would speak to none. But I knew he would speak to me, and he + did.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he tell you anything of what he had seen in the high world up + yonder?” + </p> + <p> + “He said he had seen the Dream of the God. I could not get more than that. + But there are many people here who believe that the Universe as we know it + is but an image in the dream of Ishvara, the Universal Spirit—in + whom are all the gods—and that when He ceases to dream we pass again + into the Night of Brahm, and all is darkness until the Spirit of God moves + again on the face of the waters. There are few temples to Brahm. He is + above and beyond all direct worship.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he had seen anything?” + </p> + <p> + “What do I know? Will you eat the seeds? The Night of No Moon will soon be + here.” + </p> + <p> + She held out the seed-vessels, laughing. I write that down but how record + the lovely light of kindliness in her eyes—the almost submissive + gentleness that yet was a defense stronger than steel. I never knew—how + should I?—whether she was sitting by my side or heavens away from me + in her own strange world. But always she was a sweetness that I could not + reach, a cup of nectar that I might not drink, unalterably her own and + never mine, and yet—my friend. + </p> + <p> + She showed me the wild track up into the mountains where the Pilgrims go + to pay their devotions at the Great God’s shrine in the awful heights, + regretting that we were too early for that most wonderful sight. Above + where we were sitting the river fell in a tormented white cascade, + crashing and feathering into spray-dust of diamonds. An eagle was flying + above it with a mighty spread of wings that seemed almost double-jointed + in the middle—they curved and flapped so wide and free. The fierce + head was outstretched with the rake of a plundering galley as he swept + down the wind, seeking his meat from God, and passed majestic from our + sight. The valley beneath us was littered with enormous boulders spilt + from the ancient hollows of the hills. It must have been a great sight + when the giants set them trundling down in work or play!—I said this + to Vanna, who was looking down upon it with meditative eyes. She roused + herself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, this really is Giant-Land up here—everything is so huge. And + when they quarrel up in the heights—in Jotunheim—and the black + storms come down the valleys it is like colossal laughter or clumsy + boisterous anger. And the Frost giants are still at work up there with + their great axes of frost and rain. They fling down the side of a mountain + or make fresh ways for the rivers. About sixty years ago—far above + here—they tore down a mountain side and damned up the mighty Indus, + so that for months he was a lake, shut back in the hills. But the river + giants are no less strong up here in the heights of the world, and lie lay + brooding and hiding his time. And then one awful day he tore the barrier + down and roared down the valley carrying death and ruin with him, and + swept away a whole Sikh army among other unconsidered trifles. That must + have been a soul-shaking sight.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke on, and as she spoke I saw. What are her words as I record them? + Stray dead leaves pressed in a book—the life and grace dead. Yet I + record, for she taught me what I believe the world should learn, that the + Buddhist philosophers are right when they teach that all forms of what we + call matter are really but aggregates of spiritual units, and that life + itself is a curtain hiding reality as the vast veil of day conceals from + our sight the countless orbs of space. So that the purified mind even + while prisoned in the body, may enter into union with the Real and, + according to attainment, see it as it is. + </p> + <p> + She was an interpreter because she believed this truth profoundly. She saw + the spiritual essence beneath the lovely illusion of matter, and the air + about her was radiant with the motion of strange forces for which the dull + world has many names aiming indeed at the truth, but falling—O how + far short of her calm perception! She was indeed of a Household higher + than the Household of Faith. She had received enlightenment. She beheld + with open eyes. + </p> + <p> + Next day our camp was struck and we turned our faces again to Srinagar and + to the day of parting. I set down but one strange incident of our journey, + of which I did not speak even to her. + </p> + <p> + We were camping at Bijbehara, awaiting our house boat, and the site was by + the Maharaja’s lodge above the little town. It was midnight and I was + sleepless—the shadow of the near future was upon me. I wandered down + to the lovely old wooded bridge across the Jhelum, where the strong young + trees grow up from the piles. Beyond it the moon was shining on the + ancient Hindu remains close to the new temple, and as I stood on the + bridge I could see the figure of a man in deepest meditation by the ruins. + He was no European. I saw the straight dignified folds of the robes. But + it was not surprising he should be there and I should have thought no more + of it, had I not heard at that instant from the further side of the river + the music of the Flute. I cannot hope to describe that music to any who + have not heard it. Suffice it to say that where it calls he who hears must + follow whether in the body or the spirit. Nor can I now tell in which I + followed. One day it will call me across the River of Death, and I shall + ford it or sink in the immeasurable depths and either will be well. + </p> + <p> + But immediately I was at the other side of the river, standing by the + stone Bull of Shiva where he kneels before the Symbol, and looking + steadfastly upon me a few paces away was a man in the dress of a Buddhist + monk. He wore the yellow robe that leaves one shoulder bare; his head was + bare also and he held in one hand a small bowl like a stemless chalice. I + knew I was seeing a very strange inexplicable sight—one that in + Kashmir should be incredible, but I put wonder aside for I knew now that I + was moving in the sphere where the incredible may well be the actual. His + expression was of the most unbroken calm. If I compare it to the + passionless gaze of the Sphinx I misrepresent, for the Riddle of the + Sphinx still awaits solution, but in this face was a noble acquiescence + and a content that had it vibrated must have passed into joy. + </p> + <p> + Words or their equivalent passed between us. I felt his voice. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard the music of the Flute?” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard.” + </p> + <p> + “What has it given?” + </p> + <p> + “A consuming longing.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the music of the Eternal. The creeds and the faiths are the words + that men have set to that melody. Listening, it will lead you to Wisdom. + Day by day you will interpret more surely.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot stand alone.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not need. What has led you will lead you still. Through many + births it has led you. How should it fail?” + </p> + <p> + “What should I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Go forward.” + </p> + <p> + “What should I shun?” + </p> + <p> + “Sorrow and fear.” + </p> + <p> + “What should I seek?” + </p> + <p> + “Joy.” + </p> + <p> + “And the end?” + </p> + <p> + “Joy. Wisdom. They are the Light and Dark of the Divine.” A cold breeze + passed and touched my forehead. I was still standing in the middle of the + bridge above the water gliding to the Ocean, and there was no figure by + the Bull of Shiva. I was alone. I passed back to the tents with the + shudder that is not fear but akin to death upon me. I knew I had been + profoundly withdrawn from what we call actual life, and the return is + dread. + </p> + <p> + The days passed as we floated down the river to Srinagar. On board the + Kedarnath, now lying in our first berth beneath the chenars near and yet + far from the city, the last night had come. Next morning I should begin + the long ride to Baramula and beyond that barrier of the Happy Valley down + to Murree and the Punjab. Where afterwards? I neither knew nor cared. My + lesson was before me to be learned. I must try to detach myself from all I + had prized—to say to my heart it was but a loan and no gift, and to + cling only to the imperishable. And did I as yet certainly know more than + the A B C of the hard doctrine by which I must live? “Que vivre est + difficile, O mon cocur fatigue!”—an immense weariness possessed me—a + passive grief. + </p> + <p> + Vanna would follow later with the wife of an Indian doctor. I believed she + was bound for Lahore but on that point she had not spoken certainly and I + felt we should not meet again. + </p> + <p> + And now my packing was finished, and, as far as my possessions went, the + little cabin had the soulless emptiness that comes with departure. I was + enduring as best I could. If she had held loyally to her pact, could I do + less. Was she to blame for my wild hope that in the end she would relent + and step down to the household levels of love? + </p> + <p> + She sat by the window—the last time I should see the moonlit banks + and her clear face against them. I made and won my fight for the courage + of words. + </p> + <p> + “And now I’ve finished everything—thank goodness! and we can talk. + Vanna—you will write to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Once. I promise that.” + </p> + <p> + “Only once? Why? I counted on your words.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to speak to you of something else now. I want to tell you a + memory. But look first at the pale light behind the Takht-i-Suliman.” + </p> + <p> + So I had seen it with her. So I should not see it again. We watched until + a line of silver sparkled on the black water, and then she spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen, do you remember in the ruined monastery near Peshawar, how I + told you of the young Abbot, who came down to Peshawar with a Chinese + pilgrim? And he never returned.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember. There was a Dancer.” + </p> + <p> + “There was a Dancer. She was Lilavanti, and she was brought there to trap + him but when she saw him she loved him, and that was his ruin and hers. + Trickery he would have known and escaped. Love caught him in an + unbreakable net, and they fled down the Punjab and no one knew any more. + But I know. For two years they lived together and she saw the agony in his + heart—the anguish of his broken vows, the face of the Blessed One + receding into an infinite distance. She knew that every day added a link + to the heavy Karma that was bound about the feet she loved, and her soul + said “Set him free,” and her heart refused the torture. But her soul was + the stronger. She set him free.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “She took poison. He became an ascetic in the hills and died in peace but + with a long expiation upon him.” + </p> + <p> + “And she?” + </p> + <p> + “I am she.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” I heard my voice as if it were another man’s. Was it possible that + I—a man of the twentieth century, believed this impossible thing? + Impossible, and yet—what had I learnt if not the unity of Time, the + illusion of matter? What is the twentieth century, what the first? Do they + not lie before the Supreme as one, and clean from our petty divisions? And + I myself had seen what, if I could trust it, asserted the marvels that are + no marvels to those who know. + </p> + <p> + “You loved him?” + </p> + <p> + “I love him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is nothing at all for me.” + </p> + <p> + She resumed as if she had heard nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I have lost him for many lives. He stepped above me at once, for he was + clean gold though he fell, and though I have followed I have not found. + But that Buddhist beyond Islamabad—you shall hear now what he said. + It was this. ‘The shut door opens, and this time he awaits.’ I cannot yet + say all it means, but there is no Lahore for me. I shall meet him soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Vanna, you would not harm yourself again?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. I should not meet him. But you will see. Now I can talk no more. I + will be there tomorrow when you go, and I will ride with you to the poplar + road.” + </p> + <p> + She passed like a shadow into her little dark cabin, and I was left alone. + I will not dwell on that black loneliness of the spirit, for it has passed—it + was the darkness of hell, a madness of jealousy, and could have no + enduring life in any heart that had known her. But it was death while it + lasted. I had moments of horrible belief, of horrible disbelief, but + however it might be I knew that she was out of reach for ever. Near me—yes! + but only as the silver image of the moon floated in the water by the boat, + with the moon herself cold myriads of miles away. I will say no more of + that last eclipse of what she had wrought in me. + </p> + <p> + The bright morning came, sunny as if my joys were beginning instead of + ending. Vanna mounted her horse and led the way from the boat. I cast one + long look at the little Kedarnath, the home of those perfect weeks, of + such joy and sorrow as would have seemed impossible to me in the chrysalis + of my former existence. Little Kahdra stood crying bitterly on the bank—the + kindly folk who had served us were gathered saddened and quiet. I set my + teeth and followed her. + </p> + <p> + How dear she looked, how kind, how gentle her appealing eyes, as I drew up + beside her. She knew what I felt. She knew that the sight of little Kahdra + crying as he said good—bye was the last pull at my sore heart. Still + she rode steadily on, and still I followed. Once she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen, there was a man in Peshawar, kind and true, who loved that + Lilavanti who had no heart for him. And when she died, it was in his arms, + as a sister might cling to a brother, for the man she loved had left her. + It seems that will not be in this life, but do not think I have been so + blind that I did not know my friend.” + </p> + <p> + I could not answer—it was the realization of the utmost I could hope + and it came like healing to my spirit. Better that bond between us, slight + as most men might think it, than the dearest and closest with a woman not + Vanna. It was the first thrill of a new joy in my heart—the first, I + thank the Infinite, of many and steadily growing joys and hopes that + cannot be uttered here. + </p> + <p> + I bent to take the hand she stretched to me, but even as they touched, I + saw, passing behind the trees by the road, the young man I had seen in the + garden at Vernag—most beautiful, in the strange miter of his + jewelled diadem. His flute was at his lips and the music rang out sudden + and crystal clear as though a woodland god were passing to awaken all the + joys of the dawn. + </p> + <p> + The horses heard too. In an instant hers had swerved wildly, and she lay + on the ground at my feet. The music had ceased. + </p> + <p> + Days had gone before I could recall what had happened then. I lifted her + in my arms and carried her into the rest-house near at hand, and the + doctor came and looked grave, and a nurse was sent from the Mission + Hospital. No doubt all was done that was possible, but I knew from the + first what it meant and how it would be. She lay in a white stillness, and + the room was quiet as death. I remembered with unspeakable gratitude later + that the nurse had been merciful and had not sent me away. + </p> + <p> + So Vanna lay all day and through the night, and when the dawn came again + she stirred and motioned with her hand, although her eyes were closed. I + understood, and kneeling, I put my hand under her head, and rested it + against my shoulder. Her faint voice murmured at my ear. + </p> + <p> + “I dreamed—I was in the pine wood at Pahlgam and it was the Night of + No Moon, and I was afraid for it was dark, but suddenly all the trees were + covered with little lights like stars, and the greater light was beyond. + Nothing to be afraid of.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, Beloved.” + </p> + <p> + “And I looked beyond Peshawar, further than eyes could see, and in the + ruins of the monastery where we stood, you and I—I saw him, and he + lay with his head at the feet of the Blessed One. That is well, is it + not?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Beloved.” + </p> + <p> + “And it is well I go? Is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “It is well.” + </p> + <p> + A long silence. The first sun ray touched the floor. Again the whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Believe what I have told you. For we shall meet again.” I repeated— + </p> + <p> + “We shall meet again.” + </p> + <p> + In my arms she died. + </p> + <p> + Later, when all was over I asked myself if I believed this and answered + with full assurance—Yes. + </p> + <p> + If the story thus told sounds incredible it was not incredible to me. I + had had a profound experience. What is a miracle? It is simply the vision + of the Divine behind nature. It will come in different forms according to + the eyes that see, but the soul will know that its perception is + authentic. + </p> + <p> + I could not leave Kashmir, nor was there any need. On the contrary I saw + that there was work for me here among the people she had loved, and my + first aim was to fit myself for that and for the writing I now felt was to + be my career in life. After much thought I bought the little Kedarnath and + made it my home, very greatly to the satisfaction of little Kahdra and all + the friendly people to whom I owed so much. + </p> + <p> + Vanna’s cabin I made my sleeping room, and it is the simple truth that the + first night I slept in the place that was a Temple of Peace in my + thoughts, I had a dream of wordless bliss, and starting awake for sheer + joy I saw her face in the night, human and dear, looking down upon me with + that poignant sweetness which would seem to be the utmost revelation of + love and pity. And as I stretched my hands, another face dawned solemnly + from the shadow beside her with grave brows bent on mine—one I had + known and seen in the ruins at Bijbehara. Outside and very near I could + hear the silver weaving of the Flute that in India is the symbol of the + call of the Divine. A dream—yes, but it taught me to live. At first, + in my days of grief and loss, I did but dream—the days were hard to + endure. I will not dwell on that illusion of sorrow, now long dead. I + lived only for the night. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “When sleep comes to close each difficult day, + When night gives pause to the long watch I keep, + And all my bonds I needs must loose apart, + Must doff my will as raiment laid away— + With the first dream that comes with the first sleep, + I run—I run! I am gathered to thy heart!” + </pre> + <p> + To the heart of her pity. Thus for awhile I lived. Slowly I became + conscious of her abiding presence about me, day or night It grew clearer, + closer. + </p> + <p> + Like the austere Hippolytus to his unseen Goddess, I could say; + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Who am more to thee than other mortals are, + Whose is the holy lot, + As friend with friend to walk and talk with thee, + Hearing thy sweet mouth’s music in mine ear, + But thee beholding not.” + </pre> + <p> + That was much, but later, the sunshine was no bar, the bond strengthened + and there have been days in the heights of the hills, in the depths of the + woods, when I saw her as in life, passing at a distance, but real and + lovely. Life? She had never lived as she did now—a spirit, freed and + rejoicing. For me the door she had opened would never shut. The Presences + were about me, and I entered upon my heritage of joy, knowing that in + Kashmir, the holy land of Beauty, they walk very near, and lift up the + folds of the Dark that the initiate may see the light behind. + </p> + <p> + So I began my solitary life of gladness. I wrote, aided by the little book + she had left me, full of strangest stories, stranger by far than my own + brain could conceive. Some to be revealed—some to be hidden. And + thus the world will one day receive the story of the Dancer of Peshawar in + her upward lives, that it may know, if it will, that death is nothing—for + Life and Love are all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE INCOMPARABLE LADY + </h2> + <h3> + A STORY OF CHINA WITH A MORAL + </h3> + <p> + It is recorded that when the Pearl Empress (his mother) asked of the + philosophic Yellow Emperor which he considered the most beautiful of the + Imperial concubines, he replied instantly: “The Lady A-Kuei”: and when the + Royal Parent in profound astonishment demanded bow this could be, having + regard to the exquisite beauties in question, the Emperor replied; + </p> + <p> + “I have never seen her. It was dark when I entered the Dragon Chamber and + dusk of dawn when I rose and left her.” + </p> + <p> + Then said the Pearl Princess; + </p> + <p> + “Possibly the harmony of her voice solaced the Son of Heaven?” + </p> + <p> + But he replied; + </p> + <p> + “She spoke not.” + </p> + <p> + And the Pearl Empress rejoined: + </p> + <p> + “Her limbs then are doubtless softer than the kingfisher’s plumage?” + </p> + <p> + But the Yellow Emperor replied; + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless. Yet I have not touched them. I was that night immersed in + speculations on the Yin and the Yang. How then should I touch a woman?” + </p> + <p> + And the Pearl Empress was silent from very great amazement, not daring to + question further but marveling how the thing might be. And seeing this, + the Yellow Emperor recited a poem to the following effect: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “It is said that Power rules the world + And who shall gainsay it? + But Loveliness is the head-jewel upon the brow of Power.” + </pre> + <p> + And when the Empress had listened with reverence to the Imperial Poet, she + quitted the August Presence. + </p> + <p> + Immediately, having entered her own palace of the Tranquil Motherly + Virtues, she caused the Lady A-Kuei to be summoned to her presence, who + came, habited in a purple robe and with pins of jade and coral in her + hair. And the Pearl Empress considered her attentively, recalling the + perfect features of the White Jade Concubine, the ambrosial smile of the + Princess of Feminine Propriety, and the willow-leaf eyebrows of the Lady + of Chen, and her astonishment was excessive, because the Lady A-Kuei could + not in beauty approach any one of these ladies. Reflecting further she + then placed her behind the screen, and summoned the court artist, Lo + Cheng, who had been formerly commissioned to paint the heavenly features + of the Emperor’s Ladies, mirrored in still water, though he had naturally + not been permitted to view the beauties themselves. Of him the Empress + demanded: + </p> + <p> + “Who is the most beautiful—which the most priceless jewel of the + dwellers in the Dragon Palace?” + </p> + <p> + And, with humility, Lo Cheng replied: + </p> + <p> + “What mortal man shall decide between the white Crane and the Swan, or + between the paeony flower and the lotus?” And having thus said he remained + silent, and in him was no help. Finally and after exhortation the Pearl + Empress condescended to threaten him with the loss of a head so useless to + himself and to her majesty. Then, in great fear and haste he replied: + </p> + <p> + “Of all the flowers that adorn the garden of the Sun of Heaven, the Lady + A-Kuei is the fittest to be gathered by the Imperial Hand, and this is my + deliberate opinion.” + </p> + <p> + Now, hearing this statement, the Pearl Empress was submerged in + bewilderment, knowing that the Lady A-Kuei had modestly retired when the + artist had depicted the reflection of the assembled loveliness of the + Inner Chambers, as not counting herself worthy of portraiture, and her + features were therefore unknown to him. Nor could the Empress further + question the artist, for when she had done so, he replied only: + </p> + <p> + “This is the secret of the Son of Heaven,” and, having gained permission, + he swiftly departed. + </p> + <p> + Nor could the Lady A-Kuei herself aid her Imperial Majesty, for on being + questioned she was overwhelmed with modesty and confusion, and with + stammering lips could only repeat: + </p> + <p> + “This is the secret of his Divine Majesty,” imploring with the utmost + humility, forgiveness from the Imperial Mother. + </p> + <p> + The Pearl Empress was unable to eat her supper. In vain were spread before + her the delicacies of the Empire. She could but trifle with a shark’s fin + and a “Silver Ear” fungus and a dish of slugs entrapped upon roses, with + the dew-like pearls upon them. Her burning curiosity had wholly deprived + her of appetite, nor could the amusing exertions of the Palace mimes, or a + lantern fete upon the lake restore her to any composure. “This + circumstance will cause my flight on the Dragon (death),” she said to + herself, “unless I succeed in unveiling the mystery. What therefore should + be my next proceeding?” + </p> + <p> + And so, deeply reflecting, she caused the Chief of the Eunuchs to summon + the Princess of Feminine Propriety, the White Jade Concubine and all the + other exalted beauties of the Heavenly Palace. + </p> + <p> + In due course of time these ladies arrived, paying suitable respect and + obeisance to the Mother of his Divine Majesty. They were resplendent in + king-fisher ornaments, in jewels of jade, crystal and coral, in robes of + silk and gauze, and still more resplendent in charms that not the + Celestial Empire itself could equal, setting aside entirely all countries + of the foreign barbarians. And in grace and elegance of manners, in skill + in the arts of poetry and the lute, what could surpass them? + </p> + <p> + Like a parterre of flowers they surrounded her Majesty, and awaited her + pleasure with perfect decorum, when, having saluted them with affability + she thus addressed them—“Lovely ones—ladies distinguished by + the particular attention of your sovereign and mine, I have sent for you + to resolve a doubt and a difficulty. On questioning our sovereign as to + whom he regarded as the loveliest of his garden of beauty he benignantly + replied: “The Lady A-Kuei is incomparable,” and though this may well be, + he further graciously added that he had never seen her. Nor, on pursuing + the subject, could I learn the Imperial reason. The artist Lo Cheng + follows in his Master’s footsteps, he also never having seen the favored + lady, and he and she reply to me that this is an Imperial secret. Declare + to me therefore if your perspicacity and the feminine interest which every + lady property takes in the other can unravel this mystery, for my liver is + tormented with anxiety beyond measure.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as the Pearl Empress had spoken she realized that she had + committed a great indiscretion. A babel of voices, of cries, questions and + contradictions instantly arose. Decorum was abandoned. The Lady of Chen + swooned, nor could she be revived for an hour, and the Princess of + Feminine Propriety and the White Jade Concubine could be dragged apart + only by the united efforts of six of the Palace matrons, so great was + their fury the one with the other, each accusing each of encouragement to + the Lady A-Kuei’s pretensions. So also with the remaining ladies. Shrieks + resounded through the Hall of Virtuous Tranquillity, and when the Pearl + Empress attempted to pour oil on the troubled waters by speaking soothing + and comfortable words, the august Voice was entirely inaudible in the + tumult. + </p> + <p> + All sought at length in united indignation for the Lady A-Kuei, but she + had modestly withdrawn to the Pearl Pavilion in the Imperial Garden and, + foreseeing anxieties, had there secured herself on hearing the opening of + the Royal Speech. + </p> + <p> + Finally the ladies were led away by their attendants, weeping, lamenting, + raging, according to their several dispositions, and the Pearl Empress, + left with her own maidens, beheld the floor strewn with jade pins, + kingfisher and coral jewels, and even with fragments of silk and gauze. + Nor was she any nearer the solution of the desired secret. + </p> + <p> + That night she tossed upon a bed sleepless though heaped with down, and + her mind raged like a fire up and down all possible answers to the riddle, + but none would serve. Then, at the dawn, raising herself on one august + elbow she called to her venerable nurse and foster mother, the Lady Ma, + wise and resourceful in the affairs and difficulties of women, and, + repeating the circumstances, demanded her counsel. + </p> + <p> + The Lady Ma considering the matter long and deeply, slowly replied: + </p> + <p> + “This is a great riddle and dangerous, for to intermeddle with the divine + secrets is the high road to the Yellow Springs (death). But the child of + my breasts and my exalted Mistress shall never ask in vain, for a thwarted + curiosity is dangerous as a suppressed fever. I will conceal myself + nightly in the Dragon Bedchamber and this will certainly unveil the truth. + And if I perish I perish.” + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to describe how the Empress heaped Lady Ma with costly + jewels and silken brocades and taels of silver beyond measuring—how + she placed on her breast the amulet of jade that had guarded herself from + all evil influences, how she called the ancestral spirits to witness that + she would provide for the Lady Ma’s remotest descendants if she lost her + life in this sublime devotion to duty. + </p> + <p> + That night Lady Ma concealed herself behind the Imperial couch in the + Dragon Chamber, to await the coming of the Son of Heaven. Slowly dripped + the water-clock as the minutes fled away; sorely ached the venerable limbs + of the Lady Ma as she crouched in the shadows and saw the rising moon + scattering silver through the elegant traceries of carved ebony and ivory; + wildly beat her heart as delicately tripping footsteps approached the + Dragon Chamber, and the Princess of Feminine Propriety, attended by her + maidens, ascended the Imperial Couch and hastily dismissed them. Yet no + sweet repose awaited this favored lady. The Lady Ma could hear her + smothered sobs, her muttered exclamations—nay could even feel the + couch itself tremble as the Princess uttered the hated name of the Lady + A-Kuei, the poison of jealousy running in every vein. It was impossible + for Lady Ma to decide which was the most virulent, this, or the poison of + curiosity in the heart of the Pearl Empress. Though she loved not the + Princess she was compelled to pity such suffering. But all thought was + banished by the approach of the Yellow Emperor, prepared for repose and + unattended, in simple but divine grandeur. + </p> + <p> + It cannot indeed be supposed that a Celestial Emperor is human, yet there + was mortality in the start which his Augustness gave when the Princess of + Feminine Propriety flinging herself from the Dragon couch, threw herself + at his feet and with tears that flowed like that river known as “The + Sorrow of China,” demanded to know what she had done that another should + be preferred before her; reciting in frantic haste such imperfections of + the Lady A-Kuei’s appearance as she could recall (or invent) in the haste + of that agitating moment. + </p> + <p> + “That one of her eyes is larger than the other—no human being can + doubt” sobbed the lady—“and surely your Divine Majesty cannot be + aware that her hair reaches but to her waist, and that there is a brown + mole on the nape of her neck? When she sings it resembles the croak of the + crow. It is true that most of the Palace ladies are chosen for anything + but beauty, yet she is the most ill-favored. And is it this—this + bat-faced lady who is preferred to me! Would I had never been born: Yet + even your Majesty’s own lips have told me I am fair!” + </p> + <p> + The Yellow Emperor supported the form of the Princess in his arms. There + are moments when even a Son of Heaven is but human. “Fair as the rainbow,” + he murmured, and the Princess faintly smiled; then gathering the + resolution of the Philosopher he added manfully—“But the Lady A-Kuei + is incomparable. And the reason is—” + </p> + <p> + The Lady Ma eagerly stretched her head forward with a hand to either ear. + But the Princess of Feminine Propriety with one shriek had swooned and in + the hurry of summoning attendants and causing her to be conveyed to her + own apartments that precious sentence was never completed. + </p> + <p> + Still the Lady Ma groveled behind the Dragon Couch as the Son of Heaven, + left alone, approached the veranda and apostrophizing the moon, murmured— + </p> + <p> + “O loveliest pale watcher of the destinies of men, illuminate the beauty + of the Lady A-Kuei, and grant that I who have never seen that beauty may + never see it, but remain its constant admirer!” So saying, he sought his + solitary couch and slept, while the Lady Ma, in a torment of bewilderment, + glided from the room. + </p> + <p> + The matter remained in suspense for several days. The White Jade Concubine + was the next lady commanded to the Dragon Chamber, and again the Lady Ma + was in her post of observation. Much she heard, much she saw that was not + to the point, but the scene ended as before by the dismissal of the lady + in tears, and the departure of the Lady Ma in ignorance of the secret. + </p> + <p> + The Emperor’s peace was ended. + </p> + <p> + The singular circumstance was that the Lady A-Kuei was never summoned by + the Yellow Emperor. Eagerly as the Empress watched, no token of affection + for her was ever visible. Nothing could be detected. It was inexplicable. + Finally, devoured by curiosity that gave her no respite, she resolved on a + stratagem that should dispel the mystery, though it carried with it a risk + on which she trembled to reflect. It was the afternoon of a languid summer + day, and the Yellow Emperor, almost unattended, had come to pay a visit of + filial respect to the Pearl Empress. She received him with the ceremony + due to her sovereign in the porcelain pavilion of the Eastern Gardens, + with the lotos fish ponds before them, and a faint breeze occasionally + tinkling the crystal wind-bells that decorated the shrubs on the cloud and + dragon-wrought slopes of the marble approach. A bird of brilliant plumage + uttered a cry of reverence from its gold cage as the Son of Heaven + entered. As was his occasional custom, and after suitable inquiries as to + his parent’s health, the attendants were all dismissed out of earshot and + the Emperor leaned on his cushions and gazed reflectively into the + sunshine outside. So had the Court Artist represented him as “The + Incarnation of Philosophic Calm.” + </p> + <p> + “These gardens are fair,” said the Empress after a respectful silence, + moving her fan illustrated with the emblem of Immortality—the Ho + Bird. + </p> + <p> + “Fair indeed,” returned the Emperor.—“It might be supposed that all + sorrow and disturbance would be shut without the Forbidden Precincts. Yet + it is not so. And though the figures of my ladies moving among the flowers + appear at this distance instinct with joy, yet—” + </p> + <p> + He was silent. + </p> + <p> + “They know not,” said the Empress with solemnity “that death entered the + Forbidden Precincts but last night. A disembodied spirit has returned to + its place and doubtless exists in bliss.” “Indeed?” returned the Yellow + Emperor with indifference—“yet if the spirit is absorbed into the + Source whence it came, and the bones have crumbled into nothingness, where + does the Ego exist? The dead are venerable, but no longer of interest.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even when they were loved in life?” said the Empress, caressing the + bird in the cage with one jewelled finger, but attentively observing her + son from the corner of her august eye. “They were; they are not,” he + remarked sententiously and stifling a yawn; it was a drowsy afternoon. + “But who is it that has abandoned us? Surely not the Lady Ma—your + Majesty’s faithful foster-mother?” + </p> + <p> + “A younger, a lovelier spirit has sought the Yellow Springs,” replied the + trembling Empress. “I regret to inform your Majesty that a sudden + convulsion last night deprived the Lady A-Kuei of life. I would not permit + the news to reach you lest it should break your august night’s rest.” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence, then the Emperor turned his eyes serenely upon his + Imperial Mother. “That the statement of my august Parent is merely—let + us say—allegoric—does not detract from its interest. But had + the Lady A-Kuei in truth departed to the Yellow Springs I should none the + less have received the news without uneasiness. What though the sun set—is + not the memory of his light all surpassing?” + </p> + <p> + No longer could the Pearl Empress endure the excess of her curiosity. + Deeply kowtowing, imploring pardon, with raised hands and tears which no + son dare neglect, she besought the Emperor to enlighten her as to this + mystery, recounting his praises of the lady and his admission that he had + never beheld her, and all the circumstances connected with this remarkable + episode. She omitted only, (from considerations of delicacy and others,) + the vigils of the Lady Ma in the Dragon Chamber. The Emperor, sighing, + looked upon the ground, and for a time was silent. Then he replied as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “Willingly would I have kept silence, but what child dare withstand the + plea of a parent? Is it necessary to inform the Heavenly Empress that + beauty seen is beauty made familiar and that familiarity is the foe of + admiration? How is it possible that I should see the Princess of Feminine + Propriety, for instance, by night and day without becoming aware of her + imperfections as well as her graces? How awake in the night without + hearing the snoring of the White Jade Concubine and considering the mouth + from which it issues as the less lovely. How partake of the society of any + woman without finding her chattering as the crane, avid of admiration, + jealous, destructive of philosophy, fatal to composure, fevered with + curiosity; a creature, in short, a little above the gibbon, but infinitely + below the notice of the sage, save as a temporary measure of amusement in + itself unworthy the philosopher. The faces of all my ladies are known to + me. All are fair and all alike. But one night, as I lay in the Dragon + Couch, lost in speculation, absorbed in contemplation of the Yin and the + Yang, the night passed for the solitary dreamer as a dream. In the + darkness of the dawn I rose still dreaming, and departed to the Pearl + Pavilion in the garden, and there remained an hour viewing the sunrise and + experiencing ineffable opinions on the destiny of man. Returning then to a + couch which I believed to have been that of the solitary philosopher I + observed a depression where another form had lain, and in it a jade + hairpin such as is worn by my junior beauties. Petrified with amazement at + the display of such reserve, such continence, such august self-restraint, + I perceived that, lost in my thoughts, I had had an unimagined companion + and that this gentle reminder was from her gentle hand. But whom? I knew + not. I then observed Lo Cheng the Court Artist in attendance and + immediately despatched him to make secret enquiry and ascertain the name + and circumstances of that beauty who, unknown, had shared my vigil. I + learnt on his return that it was the Lady A-Kuei. I had entered the Dragon + Chamber in a low moonlight, and guessed not her presence. She spoke no + word. Finding her Imperial Master thus absorbed, she invited no attention, + nor in any way obtruded her beauties upon my notice. Scarcely did she draw + breath. Yet reflect upon what she might have done! The night passed and I + remained entirely unconscious of her presence, and out of respect she + would not sleep but remained reverently and modestly awake, assisting, if + it may so be expressed, at a humble distance, in the speculations which + held me prisoner. What a pearl was here! On learning these details by Lo + Cheng from her own roseate lips, and remembering the unexampled temptation + she had resisted (for well she knew that had she touched the Emperor the + Philosopher had vanished) I despatched an august rescript to this favored + Lady, conferring on her the degree of Incomparable Beauty of the First + Rank. On condition of secrecy.” + </p> + <p> + The Pearl Empress, still in deepest bewilderment, besought his majesty to + proceed. He did so, with his usual dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Though my mind could not wholly restrain its admiration, yet secrecy was + necessary, for had the facts been known, every lady, from the Princess of + Feminine Propriety to the Junior Beauty of the Bed Chamber would + henceforward have observed only silence and a frigid decorum in the Dragon + Bed Chamber. And though the Emperor be a philosopher, yet a philosopher is + still a man, and there are moments when decorum—” + </p> + <p> + The Emperor paused discreetly; then resumed. + </p> + <p> + “The world should not be composed entirely of A-Kueis, yet in my mind I + behold the Incomparable Lady fair beyond expression. Like the moon she + sails glorious in the heavens to be adored only in vision as the one woman + who could respect the absorption of the Emperor, and of whose beauty as + she lay beside him the philosopher could remain unconscious and therefore + untroubled in body. To see her, to find her earthly, would be an + experience for which the Emperor might have courage, but the philosopher + never. And attached to all this is a moral:” + </p> + <p> + The Pearl Empress urgently inquired its nature. + </p> + <p> + “Let the wisdom of my august parent discern it,” said the Emperor + sententiously. + </p> + <p> + “And the future?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “The—let us call it parable—” said the Emperor politely—“with + which your Majesty was good enough to entertain me, has suggested a + precaution to my mind. I see now a lovely form moving among the flowers. + It is possible that it may be the Incomparable Lady, or that at any moment + I may come upon her and my ideal be shattered. This must be safeguarded. I + might command her retirement to her native province, but who shall insure + me against the weakness of my own heart demanding her return? No. Let Your + Majesty’s words spoken—well—in parable, be fulfilled in truth. + I shall give orders to the Chief Eunuch that the Incomparable Lady tonight + shall drink the Draught of Crushed Pearls, and be thus restored to the + sphere that alone is worthy of her. Thus are all anxieties soothed, and + the honours offered to her virtuous spirit shall be a glorious repayment + of the ideal that will ever illuminate my soul.” + </p> + <p> + The Empress was speechless. She had borne the Emperor in her womb, but the + philosopher outsoared her comprehension. She retired, leaving his Majesty + in a reverie, endeavoring herself to grasp the moral of which he had + spoken, for the guidance of herself and the ladies concerned. But whether + it inculcated reserve or the reverse in the Dragon Chamber, and what the + Imperial ladies should follow as an example she was, to the end of her + life, totally unable to say. Philosophy indeed walks on the heights. We + cannot all expect to follow it. + </p> + <p> + That night the Incomparable Lady drank the Draught of Crushed Pearls. + </p> + <p> + The Princess of Feminine Propriety and the White Jade Concubine, learning + these circumstances, redoubled their charms, their coquetries and their + efforts to occupy what may be described as the inner sanctuary of the + Emperor’s esteem. Both lived to a green old age, wealthy and honored, + alike firm in the conviction that if the Incomparable Lady had not shown + herself so superior to temptation the Emperor might have been on the whole + better pleased, whatever the sufferings of the philosopher. Both lived to + be the tyrants of many generations of beauties at the Celestial Court. + Both were assiduous in their devotions before the spirit tablet of the + departed lady, and in recommending her example of reserve and humility to + every damsel whom it might concern. + </p> + <p> + It will probably occur to the reader of this unique but veracious story + that there is more in it than meets the eye, and more than the one moral + alluded to by the Emperor according to the point of view of the different + actors. + </p> + <p> + To the discernment of the reader it must accordingly be left. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HATRED OF THE QUEEN + </h2> + <h3> + A Story of Burma + </h3> + <p> + Most wonderful is the Irawadi, the mighty river of Burma. In all the world + elsewhere is no such river, bearing the melted snows from its mysterious + sources in the high places of the mountains. The dawn rises upon its + league-wide flood; the moon walks upon it with silver feet. It is the + pulsing heart of the land, living still though so many rules and rulers + have risen and fallen beside it, their pomps and glories drifting like + flotsam dawn the river to the eternal ocean that is the end of all—and + the beginning. Dead civilizations strew its banks, dreaming in the torrid + sunshine of glories that were—of blood-stained gold, jewels wept + from woeful crowns, nightmare dreams of murder and terror; dreaming also + of heavenly beauty, for the Lord Buddha looks down in moonlight peace upon + the land that leaped to kiss His footprints, that has laid its heart in + the hand of the Blessed One, and shares therefore in His bliss and + content. The Land of the Lord Buddha, where the myriad pagodas lift their + golden flames of worship everywhere, and no idlest wind can pass but it + ruffles the bells below the knees until they send forth their silver + ripple of music to swell the hymn of praise! + </p> + <p> + There is a little bay on the bank of the flooding river—a silent, + deserted place of sanddunes and small bills. When a ship is in sight, some + poor folk come and spread out the red lacquer that helps their scanty + subsistence, and the people from the passing ship land and barter and in a + few minutes are gone on their busy way and silence settles down once more. + They neither know nor care that, near by, a mighty city spread its + splendour for miles along the river bank, that the king known as Lord of + the Golden Palace, The Golden Foot, Lord of the White Elephant, held his + state there with balls of magnificence, obsequious women, fawning + courtiers and all the riot and colour of an Eastern tyranny. How should + they care? Now there are ruins—ruins, and the cobras slip in and out + through the deserted holy places. They breed their writhing young in the + sleeping-chambers of queens, the tigers mew in the moonlight, and the + giant spider, more terrible than the cobra, strikes with its black + poison-claw and, paralyzing the life of the victim, sucks its brain with + slow, lascivious pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Are these foul creatures more dreadful than some of the men, the women, + who dwelt in these palaces—the more evil because of the human brain + that plotted and foresaw? That is known only to the mysterious Law that in + silence watches and decrees. + </p> + <p> + But this is a story of the dead days of Pagan, by the Irawadi, and it will + be shown that, as the Lotus of the Lord Buddha grows up a white splendour + from the black mud of the depths, so also may the soul of a woman. + </p> + <p> + In the days of the Lord of the White Elephant, the King Pagan Men, was a + boy named Mindon, son of second Queen and the King. So, at least, it was + said in the Golden Palace, but those who knew the secrets of such matters + whispered that, when the King had taken her by the hand she came to him no + maid, and that the boy was the son of an Indian trader. Furthermore it was + said that she herself was woman of the Rajputs, knowledgeable in spells, + incantations and elemental spirits such as the Beloos that terribly haunt + waste places, and all Powers that move in the dark, and that thus she had + won the King. Certainly she had been captured by the King’s war-boats off + the coast from a trading-ship bound for Ceylon, and it was her story that, + because of her beauty, she was sent thither to serve as concubine to the + King, Tissa of Ceylon. Being captured, she was brought to the Lord of the + Golden Palace. The tongue she spoke was strange to all the fighting men, + but it was wondrous to see how swiftly she learnt theirs and spoke it with + a sweet ripple such as is in the throat of a bird. + </p> + <p> + She was beautiful exceedingly, with a colour of pale gold upon her and + lengths of silk-spun hair, and eyes like those of a jungle-deer, and water + might run beneath the arch of her foot without wetting it, and her breasts + were like the cloudy pillows where the sun couches at setting. Now, at + Pagan, the name they called her was Dwaymenau, but her true name, known + only to herself, was Sundari, and she knew not the Law of the Blessed + Buddha but was a heathen accursed. In the strong hollow of her hand she + held the heart of the King, so that on the birth of her son she had risen + from a mere concubine to be the second Queen and a power to whom all + bowed. The First Queen, Maya, languished in her palace, her pale beauty + wasting daily, deserted and lonely, for she had been the light of the + King’s eyes until the coming of the Indian woman, and she loved her lord + with a great love and was a noble woman brought up in honour and all + things becoming a queen. But sigh as she would, the King came never. All + night he lay in the arms of Dwaymenau, all day he sat beside her, whether + at the great water pageants or at the festival when the dancing-girls + swayed and postured before him in her gilded chambers. Even when he went + forth to hunt the tiger, she went with him as far as a woman may go, and + then stood back only because he would not risk his jewel, her life. So all + that was evil in the man she fostered and all that was good she cherished + not at all, fearing lest he should return to the Queen. At her will he had + consulted the Hiwot Daw, the Council of the Woon-gyees or Ministers, + concerning a divorce of the Queen, but this they told him could not be + since she had kept all the laws of Manu, being faithful, noble and + beautiful and having borne him a son. + </p> + <p> + For, before the Indian woman had come to the King, the Queen had borne a + son, Ananda, and he was pale and slender and the King despised him because + of the wiles of Dwaymenau, saying he was fit only to sit among the women, + having the soul of a slave, and he laughed bitterly as the pale child + crouched in the corner to see him pass. If his eyes had been clear, he + would have known that here was no slave, but a heart as much greater than + his own as the spirit is stronger than the body. But this he did not know + and he strode past with Dwaymenau’s boy on his shoulder, laughing with + cruel glee. + </p> + <p> + And this boy, Mindon, was beautiful and strong as his mother, pale olive + of face, with the dark and crafty eyes of the cunning Indian traders, with + black hair and a body straight, strong and long in the leg for his years—apt + at the beginnings of bow, sword and spear—full of promise, if the + promise was only words and looks. + </p> + <p> + And so matters rested in the palace until Ananda had ten years and Mindon + nine. + </p> + <p> + It was the warm and sunny winter and the days were pleasant, and on a + certain day the Queen, Maya, went with her ladies to worship the Blessed + One at the Thapinyu Temple, looking down upon the swiftly flowing river. + The temple was exceedingly rich and magnificent, so gilded with pure + gold-leaf that it appeared of solid gold. And about the upper part were + golden bells beneath the jewelled knee, which wafted very sweetly in the + wind and gave forth a crystal-clear music. The ladies bore in their hands + more gold-leaf, that they might acquire merit by offering this for the + service of the Master of the Law, and indeed this temple was the offering + of the Queen herself, who, because she bore the name of the Mother of the + Lord, excelled in good works and was the Moon of this lower world in + charity and piety. + </p> + <p> + Though wan with grief and anxiety, this Queen was beautiful. Her eyes, + like mournful lakes of darkness, were lovely in the pale ivory of her + face. Her lips were nobly cut and calm, and by the favour of the Guardian + Nats, she was shaped with grace and health, a worthy mother of kings. Also + she wore her jewels like a mighty princess, a magnificence to which all + the people shikoed as she passed, folding their hands and touching the + forehead while they bowed down, kneeling. + </p> + <p> + Before the colossal image of the Holy One she made her offering and, + attended by her women, she sat in meditation, drawing consolation from the + Tranquillity above her and the silence of the shrine. This ended, the + Queen rose and did obeisance to the Lord and, retiring, paced back beneath + the White Canopy and entered the courtyard where the palace stood—a + palace of noble teakwood, brown and golden and carved like lace into + strange fantasies of spires and pinnacles and branches where Nats and Tree + Spirits and Beloos and swaying river maidens mingled and met amid fruits + and leaves and flowers in a wild and joyous confusion. The faces, the + blowing garments, whirled into points with the swiftness of the dance, + were touched with gold, and so glad was the building that it seemed as if + a very light wind might whirl it to the sky, and even the sad Queen + stopped to rejoice in its beauty as it blossomed in the sunlight. + </p> + <p> + And even as she paused, her little son Ananda rushed to meet her, pale and + panting, and flung himself into her arms with dry sobs like those of an + overrun man. She soothed him until he could speak, and then the grief made + way in a rain of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Mindon has killed my deer. He bared his knife, slit his throat and cast + him in the ditch and there he lies.” + </p> + <p> + “There will he not lie long!” shouted Mindon, breaking from the palace to + the group where all were silent now. “For the worms will eat him and the + dogs pick clean his bones, and he will show his horns at his lords no + more. If you loved him, White-liver, you should have taught him better + manners to his betters.” + </p> + <p> + With a stifled shriek Ananda caught the slender knife from his girdle and + flew at Mindon like a cat of the woods. Such things were done daily by + young and old, and this was a long sorrow come to a head between the boys. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, lifting the hangings of the palace gateway, before them stood + the mother of Mindon, the Lady Dwaymenau, pale as wool, having heard the + shout of her boy, so that the two Queens faced each other, each holding + the shoulders of her son, and the ladies watched, mute as fishes, for it + was years since these two had met. + </p> + <p> + “What have you done to my son?” breathed Maya the Queen, dry in the throat + and all but speechless with passion. For indeed his face, for a child, was + ghastly. + </p> + <p> + “Look at his knife! What would he do to my son?” Dwaymenau was stiff with + hate and spoke as to a slave. + </p> + <p> + “He has killed my deer and mocks me because I loved him, He is the devil + in this place. Look at the devils in his eyes. Look quick before he + smiles, my mother.” + </p> + <p> + And indeed, young as the boy was, an evil thing sat in either eye and + glittered upon them. Dwaymenau passed her hand across his brow, and he + smiled and they were gone. + </p> + <p> + “The beast ran at me and would have flung me with his horns,” he said, + looking up brightly at his mother. “He had the madness upon him. I struck + once and he was dead. My father would have done the same. + </p> + <p> + “That would he not!” said Queen Maya bitterly. “Your father would have + crept up, fawning on the deer, and offered him the fruits he loved, + stroking him the while. And in trust the beast would have eaten, and the + poison in the fruit would have slain him. For the people of your father + meet neither man nor beast in fair fight. With a kiss they stab!” + </p> + <p> + Horror kept the women staring and silent. No one had dreamed that the + scandal had reached the Queen. Never had she spoken or looked her + knowledge but endured all in patience. Now it sprang out like a sword + among them, and they feared for Maya, whom all loved. + </p> + <p> + Mindon did not understand. It was beyond him, but he saw he was scorned. + Dwaymenau, her face rigid as a mask, looked pitilessly at the shaking + Queen, and each word dropped from her mouth, hard and cold as the falling + of diamonds. She refused the insult. + </p> + <p> + “If it is thus you speak of our lord and my love, what wonder he forsakes + you? Mother of a craven milk runs in your veins and his for blood. Take + your slinking brat away and weep together! My son and I go forth to meet + the King as he comes from hunting, and to welcome him kingly!” She caught + her boy to her with a magnificent gesture; he flung his little arm about + her, and laughing loudly they went off together. + </p> + <p> + The tension relaxed a little when they were out of sight. The women knew + that, since Dwaymenau had refused to take the Queen’s meaning, she would + certainly not carry her complaint to the King. They guessed at her reason + for this forbearance, but, be that as it might, it was Certain that no + other person would dare to tell him and risk the fate that waits the + messenger of evil. + </p> + <p> + The eldest lady led away the Queen, now almost tottering in the reaction + of fear and pain. Oh, that she had controlled her speech! Not for her own + sake—for she had lost all and the beggar can lose no more—but + for the boy’s sake, the unloved child that stood between the stranger and + her hopes. For him she had made a terrible enemy. Weeping, the boy + followed her. + </p> + <p> + “Take comfort, little son,” she said, drawing him to her tenderly. “The + deer can suffer no more. For the tigers, he does not fear them. He runs in + green woods now where there is none to hunt. He is up and away. The + Blessed One was once a deer as gentle as yours.” + </p> + <p> + But still the child wept, and the Queen broke down utterly. “Oh, if life + be a dream, let us wake, let us wake!” she sobbed. “For evil things walk + in it that cannot live in the light. Or let us dream deeper and forget. + Go, little son, yet stay—for who can tell what waits us when the + King comes. Let us meet him here.” + </p> + <p> + For she believed that Dwaymenau would certainly carry the tale of her + speech to the King, and, if so, what hope but death together? + </p> + <p> + That night, after the feasting, when the girls were dancing the dance of + the fairies and spirits, in gold dresses, winged on the legs and + shoulders, and high, gold-spired and pinnacled caps, the King missed the + little Prince, Ananda, and asked why he was absent. + </p> + <p> + No one answered, the women looking upon each other, until Dwaymenau, + sitting beside him, glimmering with rough pearls and rubies, spoke + smoothly: “Lord, worshipped and beloved, the two boys quarreled this day, + and Ananda’s deer attacked our Mindon. He had a madness upon him and + thrust with his horns. But, Mindon, your true son, flew in upon him and in + a great fight he slit the beast’s throat with the knife you gave him. Did + he not well?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the King briefly. “But is there no hurt? Have searched? For + he is mine.” + </p> + <p> + There was arrogance in the last sentence and her proud soul rebelled, but + smoothly as ever she spoke: “I have searched and there is not the littlest + scratch. But Ananda is weeping because the deer is dead, and his mother is + angry. What should I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Ananda is worthless and worthless let him be! And for that pale + shadow that was once a woman, let her be forgotten. And now, drink, my + Queen!” + </p> + <p> + And Dwaymenau drank but the drink was bitter to her, for a ghost had risen + upon her that day. She had never dreamed that such a scandal had been + spoken, and it stunned her very soul with fear, that the Queen should know + her vileness and the cheat she had put upon the King. As pure maid he had + received her, and she knew, none better, what the doom would be if his + trust were broken and he knew the child not his. She herself had seen this + thing done to a concubine who had a little offended. She was thrust living + in a sack and this hung between two earthen jars pierced with small holes, + and thus she was set afloat on the terrible river. And not till the slow + filling and sinking of the jars was the agony over and the cries for mercy + stilled. No, the Queen’s speech was safe with her, but was it safe with + the Queen? For her silence, Dwaymenau must take measures. + </p> + <p> + Then she put it all aside and laughed and jested with the King and did + indeed for a time forget, for she loved him for his black-browed beauty + and his courage and royalty and the childlike trust and the man’s passion + that mingled in him for her. Daily and nightly such prayers as she made to + strange gods were that she might bear a son, true son of his. + </p> + <p> + Next day, in the noonday stillness when all slept, she led her young son + by the hand to her secret chamber, and, holding him upon her knees in that + rich and golden place, she lifted his face to hers and stared into his + eyes. And so unwavering was her gaze, so mighty the hard, unblinking stare + that his own was held against it, and he stared back as the earth stares + breathless at the moon. Gradually the terror faded out of his eyes; they + glazed as if in a trance; his head fell stupidly against her bosom; his + spirit stood on the borderland of being and waited. + </p> + <p> + Seeing this, she took his palm and, molding it like wax, into the cup of + it she dropped clear fluid from a small vessel of pottery with the fylfot + upon its side and the disks of the god Shiva. And strange it was to see + that lore of India in the palace where the Blessed Law reigned in peace. + Then, fixing her eyes with power upon Mindon, she bade him, a pure child, + see for her in its clearness. + </p> + <p> + “Only virgin-pure can see!” she muttered, staring into his eyes. “See! + See!” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of Mindon were closing. He half opened them and looked dully at + his palm. His face was pinched and yellow. + </p> + <p> + “A woman—a child, on a long couch. Dead! I see!” + </p> + <p> + “See her face. Is her head crowned with the Queen’s jewels? See!” + </p> + <p> + “Jewels. I cannot see her face. It is hidden.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it hidden?” + </p> + <p> + “A robe across her face. Oh, let me go!” + </p> + <p> + “And the child? See!” + </p> + <p> + “Let me go. Stop—my head—my head! I cannot see. The child is + hidden. Her arm holds it. A woman stoops above them.” + </p> + <p> + “A woman? Who? Is it like me? Speak! See!” + </p> + <p> + “A woman. It is like you, mother—it is like you. I fear very + greatly. A knife—a knife! Blood! I cannot see—I cannot speak! + I—I sleep.” + </p> + <p> + His face was ghastly white now, his body cold and collapsed. Terrified, + she caught him to her breast and relaxed the power of her will upon him. + For that moment, she was only the passionate mother and quaked to think + she might have hurt him. An hour passed and he slept heavily in her arms, + and in agony she watched to see the colour steal back into the olive cheek + and white lips. In the second hour he waked and stretched himself + indolently, yawning like a cat. Her tears dropped like rain upon him as + she clasped him violently to her. + </p> + <p> + He writhed himself free, petulant and spoilt. “Let me be. I hate kisses + and women’s tricks. I want to go forth and play. I have had a devil’s + dream. + </p> + <p> + “What did you see in your dream, prince of my heart?” She caught + frantically at the last chance. + </p> + <p> + “A deer—a tiger. I have forgotten. Let me go.” He ran off and she + sat alone with her doubts and fears. Yet triumph coloured them too. She + saw a dead woman, a dead child, and herself bending above them. She hid + the vessel in her bosom and went out among her women. + </p> + <p> + Weeks passed, and never a word that she dreaded from Maya the Queen. The + women of Dwaymenau, questioning the Queen’s women, heard that she seemed + to have heavy sorrow upon her. Her eyes were like dying lamps and she + faded as they. The King never entered her palace. Drowned in Dwaymenau’s + wiles and beauty, her slave, her thrall, he forgot all else but his + fighting, his hunting and his long war-boats, and whether the Queen lived + or died, he cared nothing. Better indeed she should die and her place be + emptied for the beloved, without offence to her powerful kindred. + </p> + <p> + And now he was to sail upon a raid against the Shan Tsaubwa, who had + denied him tribute of gold and jewels and slaves. Glorious were the boats + prepared for war, of brown teak and gilded until they shone like gold. + Seventy men rowed them, sword and lance beside each. Warriors crowded + them, flags and banners fluttered about them; the shining water reflected + the pomp like a mirror and the air rang with song. Dwaymenau stood beside + the water with her women, bidding the King farewell, and so he saw her, + radiant in the dawn, with her boy beside her, and waved his hand to the + last. + </p> + <p> + The ships were gone and the days languished a little at Pagan. They missed + the laughter and royalty of the King, and few men, and those old and weak, + were left in the city. The pulse of life beat slower. + </p> + <p> + And Dwaymenau took rule in the Golden Palace. Queen Maya sat like one in a + dream and questioned nothing, and Dwaymenau ruled with wisdom but none + loved her. To all she was the interloper, the witch-woman, the out-land + upstart. Only the fear of the King guarded her and her boy, but that was + strong. The boys played together sometimes, Mindon tyrannizing and cruel, + Ananda fearing and complying, broken in spirit. + </p> + <p> + Maya the Queen walked daily in the long and empty Golden Hall of Audience, + where none came now that the King was gone, pacing up and down, gazing + wearily at the carved screens and all their woodland beauty of gods that + did not hear, of happy spirits that had no pity. Like a spirit herself she + passed between the red pillars, appearing and reappearing with steps that + made no sound, consumed with hate of the evil woman that had stolen her + joy. Like a slow fire it burned in her soul, and the face of the Blessed + One was hidden from her, and she had forgotten His peace. In that + atmosphere of hate her life dwindled. Her son’s dwindled also, and there + was talk among the women of some potion that Dwaymenau had been seen to + drop into his noontide drink as she went swiftly by. That might he the + gossip of malice, but he pined. His eyes were large like a young bird’s; + his hands like little claws. They thought the departing year would take + him with it. What harm? Very certainly the King would shed no tear. + </p> + <p> + It was a sweet and silent afternoon and she wandered in the great and + lonely hall, sickened with the hate in her soul and her fear for her boy. + Suddenly she heard flying footsteps—a boy’s, running in mad haste in + the outer hall, and, following them, bare feet, soft, thudding. + </p> + <p> + She stopped dead and every pulse cried—Danger! No time to think or + breathe when Mindon burst into sight, wild with terror and following close + beside him a man—a madman, a short bright dah in his grasp, his jaws + grinding foam, his wild eyes starting—one passion to murder. So + sometimes from the Nats comes pitiless fury, and men run mad and kill and + none knows why. + </p> + <p> + Maya the Queen stiffened to meet the danger. Joy swept through her soul; + her weariness was gone. A fierce smile showed her teeth—a smile of + hate, as she stood there and drew her dagger for defense. For defense—the + man would rend the boy and turn on her and she would not die. She would + live to triumph that the mongrel was dead, and her son, the Prince again + and his father’s joy—for his heart would turn to the child most + surely. Justice was rushing on its victim. She would see it and live + content, the long years of agony wiped out in blood, as was fitting. She + would not flee; she would see it and rejoice. And as she stood in gladness—these + broken thoughts rushing through her like flashes of lightning—Mindon + saw her by the pillar and, screaming in anguish for the first time, fled + to her for refuge. + </p> + <p> + She raised her knife to meet the staring eyes, the chalk white face, and + drive him back on the murderer. If the man failed, she would not! And even + as she did this a strange thing befell. Something stronger than hate swept + her away like a leaf on the river; something primeval that lives in the + lonely pangs of childbirth, that hides in the womb and breasts of the + mother. It was stronger than she. It was not the hated Mindoin—she + saw him no more. Suddenly it was the eternal Child, lifting dying, + appealing eyes to the Woman, as he clung to her knees. She did not think + this—she felt it, and it dominated her utterly. The Woman answered. + As if it had been her own flesh and blood, she swept the panting body + behind her and faced the man with uplifted dagger and knew her victory + assured, whether in life or death. On came the horrible rush, the flaming + eyes, and, if it was chance that set the dagger against his throat, it was + cool strength that drove it home and never wavered until the blood welling + from the throat quenched the flame in the wild eyes, and she stood + triumphing like a war-goddess, with the man at her feet. Then, strong and + flushed, Maya the Queen gathered the half-dead boy in her arms, and, both + drenched with blood, they moved slowly down the hall and outside met the + hurrying crowd, with Dwaymenau, whom the scream had brought to find her + son. + </p> + <p> + “You have killed him! She has killed him!” Scarcely could the Rajput woman + speak. She was kneeling beside him—he hideous with blood. “She hated + him always. She has murdered him. Seize her!” + </p> + <p> + “Woman, what matter your hates and mine?” the Queen said slowly. “The boy + is stark with fear. Carry him in and send for old Meh Shway Gon. Woman, be + silent!” + </p> + <p> + When a Queen commands, men and women obey, and a Queen commanded then. A + huddled group lifted the child and carried him away, Dwaymenau with them, + still uttering wild threats, and the Queen was left alone. + </p> + <p> + She could not realize what she had done and left undone. She could not + understand it. She had hated, sickened with loathing, as it seemed for + ages, and now, in a moment it had blown away like a whirlwind that is + gone. Hate was washed out of her soul and had left it cool and white as + the Lotus of the Blessed One. What power had Dwaymenau to hurt her when + that other Power walked beside her? She seemed to float above her in high + air and look down upon her with compassion. Strength, virtue flowed in her + veins; weakness, fear were fantasies. She could not understand, but knew + that here was perfect enlightenment. About her echoed the words of the + Blessed One: “Never in this world doth hatred cease by hatred, but only by + love. This is an old rule.” + </p> + <p> + “Whereas I was blind, now I see,” said Maya the Queen slowly to her own + heart. She had grasped the hems of the Mighty. + </p> + <p> + Words cannot speak the still passion of strength and joy that possessed + her. Her step was light. As she walked, her soul sang within her, for thus + it is with those that have received the Law. About them is the Peace. + </p> + <p> + In the dawn she was told that the Queen, Dwaymenau, would speak with her, + and without a tremor she who had shaken like a leaf at that name commanded + that she should enter. It was Dwaymenau that trembled as she came into + that unknown place. + </p> + <p> + With cloudy brows and eyes that would reveal no secret, she stood before + the high seat where the Queen sat pale and majestic. + </p> + <p> + “Is it well with the boy?” the Queen asked earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Dwaymenau, fingering the silver bosses of her girdle. + </p> + <p> + “Then—is there more to say?” The tone was that of the great lady who + courteously ends an audience. “There is more. The men brought in the body + and in its throat your dagger was sticking. And my son has told me that + your body was a shield to him. You offered your life for his. I did not + think to thank you—but I thank you.” She ended abruptly and still + her eyes had never met the Queen’s. + </p> + <p> + “I accept your thanks. Yet a mother could do no less.” + </p> + <p> + The tone was one of dismissal but still Dwaymenau lingered. + </p> + <p> + “The dagger,” she said and drew it from her bosom. On the clear, pointed + blade the blood had curdled and dried. “I never thought to ask a gift of + you, but this dagger is a memorial of my son’s danger. May I keep it?” + </p> + <p> + “As you will. Here is the sheath.” From her girdle she drew it—rough + silver, encrusted with rubies from the mountains. + </p> + <p> + The hand rejected it. + </p> + <p> + “Jewels I cannot take, but bare steel is a fitting gift between us two.” + </p> + <p> + “As you will.” + </p> + <p> + The Queen spoke compassionately, and Dwaymenau, still with veiled eyes, + was gone without fare well. The empty sheath lay on the seat—a + symbol of the sharp-edged hate that had passed out of her life. She + touched the sheath to her lips and, smiling, laid it away. + </p> + <p> + And the days went by and Dwaymenau came no more before her, and her days + were fulfilled with peace. And now again the Queen ruled in the palace + wisely and like a Queen, and this Dwaymenau did not dispute, but what her + thoughts were no man could tell. + </p> + <p> + Then came the end. + </p> + <p> + One night the city awakened to a wild alarm. A terrible fleet of war-boats + came sweeping along the river thick as locusts—the war fleet of the + Lord of Prome. Battle shouts broke the peace of the night to horror; axes + battered on the outer doors; the roofs of the outer buildings were all + aflame. It was no wonderful incident, but a common one enough of those + turbulent days—reprisal by a powerful ruler with raids and hates to + avenge on the Lord of the Golden Palace. It was indeed a right to be + gainsaid only by the strong arm, and the strong arm was absent; as for the + men of Pagan, if the guard failed and the women’s courage sank, they would + return to blackened walls, empty chambers and desolation. + </p> + <p> + At Pagan the guard was small, indeed, for the King’s greed of plunder had + taken almost every able man with him. Still, those who were left did what + they could, and the women, alert and brave, with but few exceptions, + gathered the children and handed such weapons as they could muster to the + men, and themselves, taking knives and daggers, helped to defend the inner + rooms. + </p> + <p> + In the farthest, the Queen, having given her commands and encouraged all + with brave words, like a wise, prudent princess, sat with her son beside + her. Her duty was now to him. Loved or unloved, he was still the heir, the + root of the House tree. If all failed, she must make ransom and terms for + him, and, if they died, it must be together. He, with sparkling eyes, gay + in the danger, stood by her. Thus Dwaymenau found them. + </p> + <p> + She entered quietly and without any display of emotion and stood before + the high seat. + </p> + <p> + “Great Queen”—she used that title for the first time—“the + leader is Meng Kyinyo of Prome. There is no mercy. The end is near. Our + men fall fast, the women are fleeing. I have come to say this thing: Save + the Prince.” + </p> + <p> + “And how?” asked the Queen, still seated. “I have no power.” + </p> + <p> + “I have sent to Maung Tin, abbot of the Golden Monastery, and he has said + this thing. In the Kyoung across the river he can hide one child among the + novices. Cut his hair swiftly and put upon him this yellow robe. The time + is measured in minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Then the Queen perceived, standing by the pillar, a monk of a stern, dark + presence, the creature of Dwaymenau. For an instant she pondered. Was the + woman selling the child to death? Dwaymenau spoke no word. Her face was a + mask. A minute that seemed an hour drifted by, and the yelling and shrieks + for mercy drew nearer. + </p> + <p> + “There will be pursuit,” said the Queen. “They will slay him on the river. + Better here with me.” + </p> + <p> + “There will be no pursuit.” Dwaymenau fixed her strange eyes on the Queen + for the first time. + </p> + <p> + What moved in those eyes? The Queen could not tell. But despairing, she + rose and went to the silent monk, leading the Prince by the hand. Swiftly + he stripped the child of the silk pasoh of royalty, swiftly he cut the + long black tresses knotted on the little head, and upon the slender golden + body he set the yellow robe worn by the Lord Himself on earth, and in the + small hand he placed the begging-bowl of the Lord. And now, remote and + holy, in the dress that is of all most sacred, the Prince, standing by the + monk, turned to his mother and looked with grave eyes upon her, as the + child Buddha looked upon his Mother—also a Queen. But Dwaymenau + stood by silent and lent no help as the Queen folded the Prince in her + arms and laid his hand in the hand of the monk and saw them pass away + among the pillars, she standing still and white. + </p> + <p> + She turned to her rival. “If you have meant truly, I thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have meant truly.” + </p> + <p> + She turned to go, but the Queen caught her by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you done this?” she asked, looking into the strange eyes of the + strange woman. + </p> + <p> + Something like tears gathered in them for a moment, but she brushed them + away as she said hurriedly: + </p> + <p> + “I was grateful. You saved my son. Is it not enough?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not enough!” cried the Queen. “There is more. Tell me, for death is + upon us.” + </p> + <p> + “His footsteps are near,” said the Indian. “I will speak. I love my lord. + In death I will not cheat him. What you have known is true. My child is no + child of his. I will not go down to death with a lie upon my lips. Come + and see.” + </p> + <p> + Dwaymenau was no more. Sundari, the Indian woman, awful and calm, led the + Queen down the long ball and into her own chamber, where Mindon, the + child, slept a drugged sleep. The Queen felt that she had never known her; + she herself seemed diminished in stature as she followed the stately + figure, with its still, dark face. Into this room the enemy were breaking, + shouldering their way at the door—a rabble of terrible faces. Their + fury was partly checked when only a sleeping child and two women + confronted them, but their leader, a grim and evil-looking man, strode + from the huddle. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the son of the King?” he shouted. “Speak, women! Whose is this + boy?” + </p> + <p> + Sundari laid her hand upon her son’s shoulder. Not a muscle of her face + flickered. + </p> + <p> + “This is his son.” + </p> + <p> + “His true son—the son of Maya the Queen?” + </p> + <p> + “His true son, the son of Maya the Queen.” + </p> + <p> + “Not the younger—the mongrel?” + </p> + <p> + “The younger—the mongrel died last week of a fever.” + </p> + <p> + Every moment of delay was precious. Her eyes saw only a monk and a boy + fleeing across the wide river. + </p> + <p> + “Which is Maya the Queen?” + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Sundari. “She cannot speak. It is her son—the Prince.” + </p> + <p> + Maya had veiled her face with her hands. Her brain swam, but she + understood the noble lie. This woman could love. Their lord would not be + left childless. Thought beat like pulses in her—raced along her + veins. She held her breath and was dumb. + </p> + <p> + His doubt was assuaged and the lust of vengeance was on him—a + madness seized the man. But even his own wild men shrank back a moment, + for to slay a sleeping child in cold blood is no man’s work. + </p> + <p> + “You swear it is the Prince. But why? Why do you not lie to save him if + you are the King’s woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Because his mother has trampled me to the earth. I am the Indian woman—the + mother of the younger, who is dead and safe. She jeered at me—she + mocked me. It is time I should see her suffer. Suffer now as I have + suffered, Maya the Queen!” + </p> + <p> + This was reasonable—this was like the women he had known. His doubt + was gone—he laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Then feed full of vengeance!” he cried, and drove his knife through the + child’s heart. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Sundari wavered where she stood, but she held herself and was + rigid as the dead. + </p> + <p> + “Tha-du! Well done!” she said with an awful smile. “The tree is broken, + the roots cut. And now for us women—our fate, O master?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait here,” he answered. “Let not a hair of their heads be touched. Both + are fair. The two for me. For the rest draw lots when all is done.” + </p> + <p> + The uproar surged away. The two stood by the dead boy. So swift had been + his death that he lay as though he still slept—the black lashes + pressed upon his cheek. + </p> + <p> + With the heredity of their different races upon them, neither wept. But + silently the Queen opened her arms; wide as a woman that entreats she + opened them to the Indian Queen, and speechlessly the two clung together. + For a while neither spoke. + </p> + <p> + “My sister!” said Maya the Queen. And again, “O great of heart!” + </p> + <p> + She laid her cheek against Sundari’s, and a wave of solemn joy seemed to + break in her soul and flood it with life and light. + </p> + <p> + “Had I known sooner!” she said. “For now the night draws on.” + </p> + <p> + “What is time?” answered the Rajput woman. “We stand before the Lords of + Life and Death. The life you gave was yours, and I am unworthy to kiss the + feet of the Queen. Our lord will return and his son is saved. The House + can be rebuilt. My son and I were waifs washed up from the sea. Another + wave washes us back to nothingness. Tell him my story and he will loathe + me.” + </p> + <p> + “My lips are shut,” said the Queen. “Should I betray my sister’s honour? + When he speaks of the noble women of old, your name will be among them. + What matters which of us he loves and remembers? Your soul and mine have + seen the same thing, and we are one. But I—what have I to do with + life? The ship and the bed of the conqueror await us. Should we await + them, my sister?” + </p> + <p> + The bright tears glittered in the eyes of Sundari at the tender name and + the love in the face of the Queen. At last she accepted it. + </p> + <p> + “My sister, no,” she said, and drew from her bosom the dagger of Maya, + with the man’s blood rusted upon it. “Here is the way. I have kept this + dagger in token of my debt. Nightly have I kissed it, swearing that, when + the time came, I would repay my debt to the great Queen. Shall I go first + or follow, my sister?” + </p> + <p> + Her voice lingered on the word. It was precious to her. It was like clear + water, laying away the stain of the shameful years. + </p> + <p> + “Your arm is strong,” answered the Queen. “I go first. Because the King’s + son is safe, I bless you. For your love of the King, I love you. And here, + standing on the verge of life, I testify that the words of the Blessed One + are truth—that love is All; that hatred is Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + She bared the breast that this woman had made desolate—that, with + the love of this woman, was desolate ho longer, and, stooping, laid her + hand on the brow of Mindon. Once more they embraced, and then, strong and + true, and with the Rajput passion behind the blow, the stroke fell and + Sundari had given her sister the crowning mercy of deliverance. She laid + the body beside her own son, composing the stately limbs, the quiet + eyelids, the black lengths of hair into majesty. So, she thought, in the + great temple of the Rajput race, the Mother Goddess shed silence and awe + upon her worshippers. The two lay like mother and son—one slight + hand of the Queen she laid across the little body as if to guard it. + </p> + <p> + Her work done, she turned to the entrance and watched the dawn coming + glorious over the river. The men shouted and quarreled in the distance, + but she heeded them no more than the chattering of apes. Her heart was + away over the distance to the King, but with no passion now: so might a + mother have thought of her son. He was sleeping, forgetful of even her in + his dreams. What matter? She was glad at heart. The Queen was dearer to + her than the King—so strange is life; so healing is death. She + remembered without surprise that she had asked no forgiveness of the Queen + for all the cruel wrongs, for the deadly intent—had made no + confession. Again what matter? What is forgiveness when love is all? + </p> + <p> + She turned from the dawn-light to the light in the face of the Queen. It + was well. Led by such a hand, she could present herself without fear + before the Lords of Life and Death—she and the child. She smiled. + Life is good, but death, which is more life, is better. The son of the + King was safe, but her own son safer. + </p> + <p> + When the conqueror reentered the chamber, he found the dead Queen guarding + the dead child, and across her feet, as not worthy to lie beside her, was + the body of the Indian woman, most beautiful in death. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FIRE OF BEAUTY + </h2> + <p> + (Salutation to Ganesa the Lord of Wisdom, and to Saraswate the Lady of + Sweet Speech!) + </p> + <p> + This story was composed by the Brahmin Visravas, that dweller on the banks + of holy Kashi; and though the events it records are long past, yet it is + absolutely and immutably true because, by the power of his yoga, he + summoned up every scene before him, and beheld the persons moving and + speaking as in life. Thus he had naught to do but to set down what befell. + </p> + <p> + What follows, that hath he seen. + </p> + <p> + I + </p> + <p> + Wide was the plain, the morning sun shining full upon it, drinking up the + dew as the Divine drinks up the spirit of man. Far it stretched, + resembling the ocean, and riding upon it like a stately ship was the + league-long Rock of Chitor. It is certainly by the favour of the Gods that + this great fortress of the Rajput Kings thus rises from the plain, leagues + in length, noble in height; and very strange it is to see the flat earth + fall away from it like waters from the bows of a boat, as it soars into + the sky with its burden of palaces and towers. + </p> + <p> + Here dwelt the Queen Padmini and her husband Bhimsi, the Rana of the + Rajputs. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the holy ascetic Visravas pierced even the secrets of the + Rani’s bower, where, in the inmost chamber of marble, carved until it + appeared like lace of the foam of the sea, she was seated upon cushions of + blue Bokhariot silk, like the lotus whose name she bore floating upon the + blue depths of the lake. She had just risen from the shallow bath of + marble at her feet. + </p> + <p> + Most beautiful was this Queen, a haughty beauty such as should be a Rajput + lady; for the name “Rajput” signifies Son of a King, and this lady was + assuredly the daughter of Kings and of no lesser persons. And since that + beauty is long since ashes (all things being transitory), it is permitted + to describe the mellowed ivory of her body, the smooth curves of her hips, + and the defiance of her glimmering bosom, half veiled by the long silken + tresses of sandal-scented hair which a maiden on either side, bowing + toward her, knotted upon her head. But even he who with his eyes has seen + it can scarce tell the beauty of her face—the slender arched nose, + the great eyes like lakes of darkness in the reeds of her curled lashes, + the mouth of roses, the glance, deer-like but proud, that courted and + repelled admiration. This cannot be told, nor could the hand of man paint + it. Scarcely could that fair wife of the Pandava Prince, Draupadi the + Beautiful (who bore upon her perfect form every auspicious mark) excel + this lady. + </p> + <p> + (Ashes—ashes! May Maheshwara have mercy upon her rebirths!) + </p> + <p> + Throughout India had run the fame of this beauty. In the bazaar of Kashmir + they told of it. It was recorded in the palaces of Travancore, and all the + lands that lay between; and in an evil hour—may the Gods curse the + mother that bore him!—it reached the ears of Allah-u-Din, the Moslem + dog, a very great fighting man who sat in Middle India, looting and + spoiling. + </p> + <p> + (Ahi! for the beauty that is as a burning flame!) + </p> + <p> + In the gardens beneath the windows of the Queen, the peacocks, those + maharajas of the birds, were spreading the bronze and emerald of their + tails. The sun shone on them as on heaps of jewels, so that they dazzled + the eyes. They stood about the feet of the ancient Brahmin sage, he who + had tutored the Queen in her childhood and given her wisdom as the + crest-jeweled of her loveliness. He, the Twice-born sat under the shade of + a neem tree, hearing the gurgle of the sacred waters from the Cow’s Mouth, + where the great tank shone under the custard-apple boughs; and, at peace + with all the world, he read in the Scripture which affirms the transience + of all things drifting across the thought of the Supreme like clouds upon + the surface of the Ocean. + </p> + <p> + (Ahi! that loveliness is also illusion!) + </p> + <p> + Her women placed about the Queen—that Lotus of Women—a robe of + silk of which none could say that it was green or blue, the noble colours + so mingled into each other under the latticed gold work of Kashi. They set + the jewels on her head, and wide thin rings of gold heavy with great + pearls in her ears. Upon the swell of her bosom they clasped the necklace + of table emeralds, large, deep, and full of green lights, which is the + token of the Chitor queens. Upon her slender ankles they placed the + chooris of pure soft gold, set also with grass-green emeralds, and the + delicate souls of her feet they reddened with lac. Nor were her arms + forgotten, but loaded with bangles so free from alloy that they could be + bent between the hands of a child. Then with fine paste they painted the + Symbol between her dark brows, and, rising, she shone divine as a nymph of + heaven who should cause the righteous to stumble in his austerities and + arrest even the glances of Gods. + </p> + <p> + (Ahi! that the Transient should be so fair!) + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + Now it was the hour that the Rana should visit her; for since the coming + of the Lotus Lady, he had forgotten his other women, and in her was all + his heart. He came from the Hall of Audience where petitions were heard, + and justice done to rich and poor; and as he came, the Queen, hearing his + step on the stone, dismissed her women, and smiling to know her + loveliness, bowed before him, even as the Goddess Uma bows before Him who + is her other half. + </p> + <p> + Now he was a tall man, with the falcon look of the Hill Rajputs, and + moustaches that curled up to his eyes, lion-waisted and lean in the flanks + like Arjoon himself, a very ruler of men; and as he came, his hand was on + the hilt of the sword that showed beneath his gold coat of khincob. On the + high cushions he sat, and the Rani a step beneath him; and she said, + raising her lotus eyes:— + </p> + <p> + “Speak, Aryaputra, (son of a noble father)—what hath befallen?” + </p> + <p> + And he, looking upon her beauty with fear, replied,— + </p> + <p> + “It is thy beauty, O wife, that brings disaster.” + </p> + <p> + “And how is this?” she asked very earnestly. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he paused, regarding her as might a stranger, as one who + considers a beauty in which he hath no part; and, drawn by this + strangeness, she rose and knelt beside him, pillowing her head upon his + heart. + </p> + <p> + “Say on,” she said in her voice of music. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He unfurled a scroll that he had crushed in his strong right hand, and +read aloud:— + + “‘Thus says Allah-u-Din, Shadow of God, Wonder of the Age, +Viceregent of Kings. We have heard that in the Treasury of Chitor is a +jewel, the like of which is not in the Four Seas—the work of the hand +of the Only God, to whom be praise! This jewel is thy Queen, the Lady +Padmini. Now, since the sons of the Prophet are righteous, I desire but +to look upon this jewel, and ascribing glory to the Creator, to depart +in peace. Granted requests are the bonds of friendship; therefore +lay the head of acquiescence in the dust of opportunity and name an +auspicious day.’” + </pre> + <p> + He crushed it again and flung it furiously from him on the marble. + </p> + <p> + “The insult is deadly. The sorry son of a debased mother! Well he knows + that to the meanest Rajput his women are sacred, and how much more the + daughters and wives of the Kings! The jackals feast on the tongue that + speaks this shame! But it is a threat, Beloved—a threat! Give me thy + counsel that never failed me yet.” + </p> + <p> + For the Rajputs take counsel with their women who are wise. + </p> + <p> + They were silent, each weighing the force of resistance that could be + made; and this the Rani knew even as he. + </p> + <p> + “It cannot be,” she said; “the very ashes of the dead would shudder to + hear. Shall the Queens of India be made the sport of the barbarians?” + </p> + <p> + Her husband looked upon her fair face. She could feel his heart labor + beneath her ear. + </p> + <p> + “True, wife; but the barbarians are strong. Our men are tigers, each one, + but the red dogs of the Dekkan can pull down the tiger, for they are many, + and he alone.” + </p> + <p> + Then that great Lady, accepting his words, and conscious of the danger, + murmured this, clinging to her husband:— + </p> + <p> + “There was a Princess of our line whose beauty made all other women seem + as waning moons in the sun’s splendour. And many great Kings sought her, + and there was contention and war. And, she, fearing that the Rajputs would + be crushed to powder between the warring Kings, sent unto each this + message: ‘Come on such and such a day, and thou shalt see my face and hear + my choice.’ And they, coming, rejoiced exceedingly, thinking each one that + he was the Chosen. So they came into the great Hall, and there was a + table, and somewhat upon it covered with a gold cloth; and an old veiled + woman lifted the gold, and the head of the Princess lay there with the + lashes like night upon her cheek, and between her lips was a little + scroll, saying this: ‘I have chosen my Lover and my Lord, and he is + mightiest, for he is Death.’—So the Kings went silently away. And + there was Peace.” + </p> + <p> + The music of her voice ceased, and the Rana clasped her closer. + </p> + <p> + “This I cannot do. Better die together. Let us take counsel with the + ancient Brahman, thy guru [teacher], for he is very wise.” + </p> + <p> + She clapped her hands, and the maidens returned, and, bowing, brought the + venerable Prabhu Narayan into the Presence, and again those roses retired. + </p> + <p> + Respectful salutation was then offered by the King and the Queen to that + saint, hoary with wisdom—he who had seen her grow into the + loveliness of the sea-born Shri, yet had never seen that loveliness; for + he had never raised his eyes above the chooris about her ankles. To him + the King related his anxieties; and he sat rapt in musing, and the two + waited in dutiful silence until long minutes had fallen away; and at the + last he lifted his head, weighted with wisdom, and spoke. + </p> + <p> + “O King, Descendant of Rama! this outrage cannot be. Yet, knowing the + strength and desire of this obscene one and the weakness of our power, it + is plain that only with cunning can cunning be met. Hear, therefore, the + history of the Fox and the Drum. + </p> + <p> + “A certain Fox searched for food in the jungle, and so doing beheld a tree + on which hung a drum; and when the boughs knocked upon the parchment, it + sounded aloud. Considering, he believed that so round a form and so great + a voice must portend much good feeding. Neglecting on this account a fowl + that fed near by, he ascended to the drum. The drum being rent was but air + and parchment, and meanwhile the fowl fled away. And from the eye of folly + he shed the tear of disappointment, having bartered the substance for the + shadow. So must we act with this budmash [scoundrel]. First, receiving his + oath that he will depart without violence, hid him hither to a great + feast, and say that he shall behold the face of the Queen in a mirror. + Provide that some fair woman of the city show her face, and then let him + depart in peace, showing him friendship. He shall not know he hath not + seen the beauty he would befoul.” + </p> + <p> + After consultation, no better way could be found; but the heart of the + great Lady was heavy with foreboding. + </p> + <p> + (A hi! that Beauty should wander a pilgrim in the ways of sorrow!) + </p> + <p> + To Allah-u-Din therefore did the King dispatch this letter by swift riders + on mares of Mewar. + </p> + <p> + After salutations—“Now whereas thou hast said thou wouldest look + upon the beauty of the Treasure of Chitor, know it is not the custom of + the Rajputs that any eye should light upon their treasure. Yet assuredly, + when requests arise between friends, there cannot fail to follow distress + of mind and division of soul if these are ungranted. So, under promises + that follow, I bid thee to a feast at my poor house of Chitor, and thou + shalt see that beauty reflected in a mirror, and so seeing, depart in + peace from the house of a friend.” + </p> + <p> + This being writ by the Twice-Born, the Brahman, did the Rana sign with + bitter rage in his heart. And the days passed. + </p> + <p> + III + </p> + <p> + On a certain day found fortunate by the astrologers—a day of early + winter, when the dawns were pure gold and the nights radiant with a cool + moon—did a mighty troop of Moslems set their camp on the plain of + Chitor. It was as if a city had blossomed in an hour. Those who looked + from the walls muttered prayers to the Lord of the Trident; for these men + seemed like the swarms of the locust—people, warriors all, fierce + fighting-men. And in the ways of Chitor, and up the steep and winding + causeway from the plains, were warriors also, the chosen of the Rajputs, + thick as blades of corn hedging the path. + </p> + <p> + (Ahi! that the blossom of beauty should have swords for thorns!) + </p> + <p> + Then, leaving his camp, attended by many Chiefs,—may the mothers and + sires that begot them be accursed!—came Allah-u-Din, riding toward + the Lower Gate, and so upward along the causeway, between the two rows of + men who neither looked nor spoke, standing like the carvings of war in the + Caves of Ajunta. And the moon was rising through the sunset as he came + beneath the last and seventh gate. Through the towers and palaces he rode + with his following, but no woman, veiled or unveiled,—no, not even + an outcast of the city,—was there to see him come; only the men, + armed and silent. So he turned to Munim Khan that rode at his bridle, + saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Let not the eye of watchfulness close this night on the pillow of + forgetfulness!” + </p> + <p> + And thus he entered the palace. + </p> + <p> + Very great was the feast in Chitor, and the wines that those accursed + should not drink (since the Outcast whom they call their Prophet forbade + them) ran like water, and at the right hand of Allah-u-Din was set the + great crystal Cup inlaid with gold by a craft that is now perished; and he + filled and refilled it—may his own Prophet curse the swine! + </p> + <p> + But because the sons of Kings eat not with the outcasts, the Rana entered + after, clothed in chain armor of blue steel, and having greeted him, bid + him to the sight of that Treasure. And Allah-u-Din, his eyes swimming with + wine, and yet not drunken, followed, and the two went alone. + </p> + <p> + Purdahs [curtains] of great splendour were hung in the great Hall that is + called the Raja’s Hall, exceeding rich with gold, and in front of the + opening was a kneeling-cushion, and an a gold stool before it a polished + mirror. + </p> + <p> + (Ahi! for gold and beauty, the scourges of the world!) + </p> + <p> + And the Rana was pale to the lips. + </p> + <p> + Now as the Princes stood by the purdah, a veiled woman, shrouded in white + so that no shape could be seen in her, came forth from within, and + kneeling upon the cushion, she unveiled her face bending until the mirror, + like a pool of water, held it, and that only. And the King motioned his + guest to look, and he looked over her veiled shoulder and saw. Very great + was the bowed beauty that the mirror held, but Allah-u-Din turned to the + Rana. + </p> + <p> + “By the Bread and the Salt, by the Guest-Right, by the Honour of thy + House, I ask—is this the Treasure of Chitor?” + </p> + <p> + And since the Sun-Descended cannot lie, no, not though they perish, the + Rana answered, flushing darkly,—“This is not the Treasure. Wilt thou + spare?” + </p> + <p> + But he would not, and the woman slipped like a shadow behind the purdah + and no word said. + </p> + <p> + Then was heard the tinkling of chooris, and the little noise fell upon the + silence like a fear, and, parting the curtains, came a woman veiled like + the other. She did not kneel, but took the mirror in her hand, and + Allah-u-Din drew up behind her back. From her face she raised the veil of + gold Dakka webs, and gazed into the mirror, holding it high, and that + Accursed stumbled back, blinded with beauty, saying this only,—“I + have seen the Treasure of Chitor.” + </p> + <p> + So the purdah fell about her. + </p> + <p> + The next day, after the Imaum of the Accursed had called them to prayer, + they departed, and Allah-u-Din, paying thanks to the Rana for honours + given and taken, and swearing friendship, besought him to ride to his + camp, to see the marvels of gold and steel armor brought down from the + passes, swearing also safe-conduct. And because the Rajputs trust the word + even of a foe, he went. + </p> + <p> + (A hi! that honour should strike hands with traitors!) + </p> + <p> + IV + </p> + <p> + The hours went by, heavy-footed like mourners. Padmini the Rani knelt by + the window in her tower that overlooks the plains. Motionless she knelt + there, as the Goddess Uma lost in her penances, and she saw her Lord ride + forth, and the sparkle of steel where the sun shone on them, and the + Standard of the Cold Disk on its black ground. So the camp of the Moslem + swallowed them up, and they returned no more. Still she knelt and none + dared speak with her; and as the first shade of evening fell across the + hills of Rajasthan, she saw a horseman spurting over the flat; and he rode + like the wind, and, seeing, she implored the Gods. + </p> + <p> + Then entered the Twice-Born, that saint of clear eyes, and he bore a + scroll; and she rose and seated herself, and he stood by her, as her + ladies cowered like frightened doves before the woe in his face as he + read. + </p> + <p> + “To the Rose of Beauty, The Pearl among Women, the Chosen of the Palace. + Who, having seen thy loveliness, can look on another? Who, having tasted + the wine of the Houris, but thirsts forever? Behold, I have thy King as + hostage. Come thou and deliver him. I have sworn that he shall return in + thy place.” + </p> + <p> + And from a smaller scroll, the Brahman read this:— + </p> + <p> + “I am fallen in the snare. Act thou as becomes a Rajputni.” + </p> + <p> + Then that Daughter of the Sun lifted her head, for the thronging of armed + feet was heard in the Council Hall below. From the floor she caught her + veil and veiled herself in haste, and the Brahman with bowed head + followed, while her women mourned aloud. And, descending, between the + folds of the purdah she appeared white and veiled, and the Brahman beside + her, and the eyes of all the Princes were lowered to her shrouded feet, + while the voice they had not heard fell silvery upon the air, and the + echoes of the high roof repeated it. + </p> + <p> + “Chief of the Rajputs, what is your counsel?” And he of Marwar stepped + forward, and not raising his eyes above her feet, answered,— + </p> + <p> + “Queen, what is thine?” + </p> + <p> + For the Rajputs have ever heard the voice of their women. + </p> + <p> + And she said,— + </p> + <p> + “I counsel that I die and my head be sent to him, that my blood may quench + his desire.” + </p> + <p> + And each talked eagerly with the other, but amid the tumult the Twice-Born + said,— + </p> + <p> + “This is not good talk. In his rage he will slay the King. By my yoga, I + have seen it. Seek another way.” + </p> + <p> + So they sought, but could determine nothing, and they feared to ride + against the dog, for he held the life of the King; and the tumult was + great, but all were for the King’s safety. + </p> + <p> + Then once more she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Seeing it is determined that the King’s life is more than my honour, I go + this night. In your hand I leave my little son, the Prince Ajeysi. Prepare + my litters, seven hundred of the best, for all my women go with me. Depart + now, for I have a thought from the Gods.” + </p> + <p> + Then, returning to her bower, she spoke this letter to the saint, and he + wrote it, and it was sent to the camp. + </p> + <p> + After salutations—“Wisdom and strength have attained their end. Have + ready for release the Rana of Chitor, for this night I come with my + ladies, the prize of the conqueror.” + </p> + <p> + When the sun sank, a great procession with torches descended the steep way + of Chitor—seven hundred litters, and in the first was borne the + Queen, and all her women followed. + </p> + <p> + All the streets were thronged with women, weeping and beating their + breasts. Very greatly they wept, and no men were seen, for their livers + were black within them for shame as the Treasure of Chitor departed, nor + would they look upon the sight. And across the plains went that + procession; as if the stars had fallen upon the earth, so glittered the + sorrowful lights of the Queen. + </p> + <p> + But in the camp was great rejoicing, for the Barbarians knew that many + fair women attended on her. + </p> + <p> + Now, before the entrance to the camp they had made a great shamiana [tent] + ready, hung with shawls of Kashmir and the plunder of Delhi; and there was + set a silk divan for the Rani, and beside it stood the Loser and the + Gainer, Allah-u-Din and the King, awaiting the Treasure. + </p> + <p> + Veiled she entered, stepping proudly, and taking no heed of the Moslem, + she stood before her husband, and even through the veil he could feel the + eyes he knew. + </p> + <p> + And that Accursed spoke, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “I have won-I have won, O King! Bid farewell to the Chosen of the Palace—the + Beloved of the Viceregent of Kings!” + </p> + <p> + Then she spoke softly, delicately, in her own tongue, that the outcast + should not guess the matter of her speech. + </p> + <p> + “Stand by me. Stir not. And when I raise my arm, cry the cry of the + Rajputs. NOW!” + </p> + <p> + And she flung her arm above her head, and instantly, like a lion roaring, + he shouted, drawing his sword, and from every litter sprang an armed man, + glittering in steel, and the bearers, humble of mien, were Rajput knights, + every one. + </p> + <p> + And Allah-u-Din thrust at the breast of the Queen; but around them surged + the war, and she was hedged with swords like a rose in the thickets. + </p> + <p> + Very full of wine, dull with feasting and lust and surprised, the Moslems + fled across the plains, streaming in a broken rabble, cursing and shouting + like low-caste women; and the Rajputs, wiping their swords, returned from + the pursuit and laughed upon each other. + </p> + <p> + But what shall be said of the joy of the King and of her who had imagined + this thing, instructed of the Goddess who is the other half of her Lord? + </p> + <p> + So the procession returned, singing, to Chitor with those Two in the + midst; but among the dogs that fled was Allah-u-Din, his face blackened + with shame and wrath, the curses choking in his foul throat. + </p> + <p> + (Aid! that the evil still walk the ways of the world!) + </p> + <p> + V + </p> + <p> + So the time went by and the beauty of the Queen grew, and her King could + see none but hers. Like the moon she obscured the stars, and every day he + remembered her wisdom, her valour, and his soul did homage at her feet, + and there was great content in Chitor. + </p> + <p> + It chanced one day that the Queen, looking from her high window that like + an eagle’s nest overhung the precipice, saw, on the plain beneath, a train + of men, walking like ants, and each carried a basket on his back, and + behind them was a cloud of dust like a great army. Already the city was + astir because of this thing, and the rumours came thick and the spies were + sent out. + </p> + <p> + In the dark they returned, and the Rana entered the bower of Padmini, his + eyes burning like coal with hate and wrath, and he flung his arm round his + wife like a shield. + </p> + <p> + “He is returned, and in power. Counsel me again, O wife, for great is thy + wisdom!” + </p> + <p> + But she answered only this,— + </p> + <p> + “Fight, for this time it is to the death.” + </p> + <p> + Then each day she watched bow the baskets of earth, emptied upon the plain + at first, made nothing, an ant heap whereat fools might laugh. But each + day as the trains of men came, spilling their baskets, the great + earthworks grew and their height mounted. Day after day the Rajputs rode + forth and slew; and as they slew it seemed that all the teeming millions + of the earth came forth to take the places of the slain. And the Rajputs + fell also, and under the pennons the thundering forces returned daily, + thinned of their best. + </p> + <p> + (A hi! that Evil rules the world as God!) + </p> + <p> + And still the earth grew up to the heights, and the protection of the + hills was slowly withdrawn from Chitor, for on the heights they made they + set their engines of war. + </p> + <p> + Then in a red dawn that great saint Narayan came to the Queen, where she + watched by her window, and spoke. + </p> + <p> + “O great lady, I have dreamed a fearful dream. Nay, rather have I seen a + vision.” + </p> + <p> + With her face set like a sword, the Queen said,— + </p> + <p> + “Say on.” + </p> + <p> + “In a light red like blood, I waked, and beside me stood the Mother,—Durga,—awful + to see, with a girdle of heads about her middle; and the drops fell thick + and slow from That which she held in her hand, and in the other was her + sickle of Doom. Nor did she speak, but my soul heard her words.” + </p> + <p> + “Narrate them.” + </p> + <p> + “She commanded: ‘Say this to the Rana: “In Chitor is My altar; in Chitor + is thy throne. If thou wouldest save either, send forth twelve crowned + Kings of Chitor to die.’” + </p> + <p> + As he said this, the Rana, fore-spent with fighting, entered and heard the + Divine word. + </p> + <p> + Now there were twelve princes of the Rajput blood, and the youngest was + the son of Padmini. What choice had these most miserable but to appease + the dreadful anger of the Goddess? So on each fourth day a King of Chitor + was crowned, and for three days sat upon the throne, and on the fourth + day, set in the front, went forth and died fighting. So perished eleven + Kings of Chitor, and now there was left but the little Ajeysi, the son of + the Queen. + </p> + <p> + And that day was a great Council called. + </p> + <p> + Few were there. On the plains many lay dead; holding the gates many + watched; but the blood was red in their hearts and flowed like Indus in + the melting of the snows. And to them spoke the Rana, his hand clenched on + his sword, and the other laid on the small dark head of the Prince Ajeysi, + who stood between his knees. And as he spoke his voice gathered strength + till it rang through the hall like the voice of Indra when he thunders in + the heavens. + </p> + <p> + “Men of the Rajputs, this child shall not die. Are we become jackals that + we fall upon the weak and tear them? When have we put our women and + children in the forefront of the war? I—I only am King of Chitor. + Narayan shall save this child for the time that will surely come. And for + us—what shall we do? I die for Chitor!” + </p> + <p> + And like the hollow waves of a great sea they answered him,— + </p> + <p> + “We will die for Chitor.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence and Marwar spoke. + </p> + <p> + “The women?” + </p> + <p> + “Do they not know the duty of a Rajputni?” said the King. “My household + has demanded that the caves be prepared.” + </p> + <p> + And the men clashed stew joy with their swords, and the council dispersed. + </p> + <p> + Then that very great saint, the Twice-Born, put off the sacred thread that + is the very soul of the Brahman. In his turban he wound it secretly, and + he stained his noble Aryan body until it resembled the Pariahs, foul for + the pure to see, loathsome for the pure to touch, and he put on him the + rags of the lowest of the earth, and taking the Prince, he removed from + the body of the child every trace of royal and Rajput birth, and he + appeared like a child of the Bhils—the vile forest wanderers that + shame not to defile their lips with carrion. And in this guise they stood + before the Queen; and when she looked on the saint, the tears fell from + her eyes like rain, not for grief for her son, nor for death, but that for + their sake the pure should be made impure and the glory of the + Brahman-hood be defiled. And she fell at the old man’s feet and laid her + head on the ground before him. + </p> + <p> + “Rise, daughter!” he said, “and take comfort! Are not the eyes of the Gods + clear that they should distinguish?—and this day we stand before the + God of Gods. Have not the Great Ones said, ‘That which causes life causes + also decay and death’? Therefore we who go and you who stay are alike a + part of the Divine. Embrace now your child and bless him, for we depart. + And it is on account of the sacrifice of the Twelve that he is saved + alive.” + </p> + <p> + So, controlling her tears, she rose, and clasping the child to her bosom, + she bade him be of good cheer since he went with the Gods. And that great + saint took his hand from hers, and for the first time in the life of the + Queen he raised his aged eyes to her face, and she gazed at him; but what + she read, even the ascetic Visravas, who saw all by the power of his yoga, + could not tell, for it was beyond speech. Very certainly the peace + thereafter possessed her. + </p> + <p> + So those two went out by the secret ways of the rocks, and wandering far, + were saved by the favour of Durga. + </p> + <p> + VI + </p> + <p> + And the nights went by and the days, and the time came that no longer + could they hold Chitor, and all hope was dead. + </p> + <p> + On a certain day the Rana and the Rani stood for the last time in her + bower, and looked down into the city; and in the streets were gathered in + a very wonderful procession the women of Chitor; and not one was veiled. + Flowers that had bloomed in the inner chambers, great ladies jewelled for + a festival, young brides, aged mothers, and girl children clinging to the + robes of their mothers who held their babes, crowded the ways. Even the + low-caste women walked with measured steps and proudly, decked in what + they had of best, their eyes lengthened with soorma, and flowers in the + darkness of their hair. + </p> + <p> + The Queen was clothed in a gold robe of rejoicing, her bodice latticed + with diamonds and great gems, and upon her bosom the necklace of table + emeralds, alight with green fire, which is the jewel of the Queens of + Chitor. So she stood radiant as a vision of Shri, and it appeared that + rays encircled her person. + </p> + <p> + And the Rana, unarmed save for his sword, had the saffron dress of a + bridegroom and the jeweled cap of the Rajput Kings, and below in the hall + were the Princes and Chiefs, clad even as he. + </p> + <p> + Then, raising her lotus eyes to her lord, the Princess said,— + </p> + <p> + “Beloved, the time is come, and we have chosen rightly, for this is the + way of honour, and it is but another link forged in the chain of + existence; for until existence itself is ended and rebirth destroyed, + still shall we meet in lives to come and still be husband and wife. What + room then for despair?” + </p> + <p> + And he answered,— + </p> + <p> + “This is true. Go first, wife, and I follow. Let not the door swing to + behind thee. But oh, to see thy beauty once more that is the very speech + of Gods with men! Wilt thou surely come again to me and again be fair?” + </p> + <p> + And for all answer she smiled upon him, and at his feet performed the + obeisance of the Rajput wife when she departs upon a journey; and they + went out together, the Queen unveiled. + </p> + <p> + As she passed through the Princes, they lowered their eyes so that none + saw her; but when she stood on the steps of the palace, the women all + turned eagerly toward her like stars about the moon, and lifting their + arms, they began to sing the dirge of the Rajput women. + </p> + <p> + So they marched, and in great companies they marched, company behind + company, young and old, past the Queen, saluting her and drawing courage + from the loveliness and kindness of her unveiled face. + </p> + <p> + In the rocks beneath the palaces of Chitor are very great caves—league + long and terrible, with ways of darkness no eyes have seen; and it is + believed that in times past spirits have haunted them with strange + wailings. In these was prepared great store of wood and oils and fragrant + matters for burning. So to these caves they marched and, company by + company, disappeared into the darkness; and the voice of their singing + grew faint and hollow, and died away, as the men stood watching their + women go. + </p> + <p> + Now, when this was done and the last had gone, the Rani descended the + steps, and the Rana, taking a torch dipped in fragrant oils, followed her, + and the Princes walked after, clad like bridegrooms but with no faces of + bridal joy. At the entrance of the caves, having lit the torch, he gave it + into her hand, and she, receiving it and smiling, turned once upon the + threshold, and for the first time those Princes beheld the face of the + Queen, but they hid their eyes with their hands when they had seen. So she + departed within, and the Rana shut to the door and barred and bolted it, + and the men with him flung down great rocks before it so that none should + know the way, nor indeed is it known to this day; and with their hands on + their swords they waited there, not speaking, until a great smoke rose + between the crevices of the rocks, but no sound at all. + </p> + <p> + (Ashes of roses—ashes of roses!—Ahi! for beauty that is but + touched and remitted!) + </p> + <p> + The sun was high when those men with their horses and on foot marched down + the winding causeway beneath the seven gates, and so forth into the + plains, and charging unarmed upon the Moslems, they perished every man. + After, it was asked of one who had seen the great slaughter,— + </p> + <p> + “Say how my King bore himself.” + </p> + <p> + And he who had seen told this:— + </p> + <p> + “Reaper of the harvest of battle, on the bed of honour he has spread a + carpet of the slain! He sleeps ringed about by his enemies. How can the + world tell of his deeds? The tongue is silent.” + </p> + <p> + When that Accursed, Allah-u-Din, came up the winding height of the hills, + he found only a dead city, and his heart was sick within him. + </p> + <p> + Now this is the Sack of Chitor, and by the Oath of the Sack of Chitor do + the Rajputs swear when they bind their honour. + </p> + <p> + But it is only the ascetic Visravas who by the power of his yoga has heard + every word, and with his eyes beheld that Flame of Beauty, who, for a + brief space illuminating the world as a Queen, returns to birth in many a + shape of sorrowful loveliness until the Blue-throated God shall in his + favour destroy her rebirths. + </p> + <p> + Salutation to Ganesa the Elephant-Headed One, and to Shri the Lady of + Beauty! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BUILDING OF THE TAJ MAHAL + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the Name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful—the Smiting! + A day when the soul shall know what it has sent on or kept back. + A day when no soul shall control aught for another. + And the bidding belongs to God. +</pre> + <p> + THE KORAN. I + </p> + <p> + Now the Shah-in-Shah, Shah Jahan, Emperor in India, loved his wife with a + great love. And of all the wives of the Mogul Emperors surely this Lady + Arjemand, Mumtaz-i-Mahal—-the Chosen of the Palace—was the + most worthy of love. In the tresses of her silk-soft hair his heart was + bound, and for none other had he so much as a passing thought since his + soul had been submerged in her sweetness. Of her he said, using the words + of the poet Faisi,— + </p> + <p> + “How shall I understand the magic of Love the Juggler? For he made thy + beauty enter at that small gate the pupil of my eye, And now—and now + my heart cannot contain it!” + </p> + <p> + But who should marvel? For those who have seen this Arjemand crowned with + the crown the Padishah set upon her sweet low brows, with the lamps of + great jewels lighting the dimples of her cheeks as they swung beside them, + have most surely seen perfection. He who sat upon the Peacock Throne, + where the outspread tail of massed gems is centred by that great ruby, + “The Eye of the Peacock, the Tribute of the World,” valued it not so much + as one Jock of the dark and perfumed tresses that rolled to her feet. Less + to him the twelve throne columns set close with pearls than the little + pearls she showed in her sweet laughter. For if this lady was all beauty, + so too she was all goodness; and from the Shah-in-Shah to the poorest, all + hearts of the world knelt in adoration, before the Chosen of the Palace. + She was, indeed, an extraordinary beauty, in that she had the soul of a + child, and she alone remained unconscious of her power; and so she walked, + crowned and clothed with humility. + </p> + <p> + Cold, haughty, and silent was the Shah-in-Shah before she blessed his arms—flattered, + envied, but loved by none. But the gift this Lady brought with her was + love; and this, shining like the sun upon ice, melted his coldness, and he + became indeed the kingly centre of a kingly court May the Peace be upon + her! + </p> + <p> + Now it was the dawn of a sorrowful day when the pains of the Lady Arjemand + came strong and terrible, and she travailed in agony. The hakims + (physicians) stroked their beards and reasoned one with another; the wise + women surrounded her, and remedies many and great were tried; and still + her anguish grew, and in the hall without sat the Shah-in-Shah upon his + divan, in anguish of spirit yet greater. The sweat ran on his brows, the + knotted veins were thick on his temples, and his eyes, sunk in their + caves, showed as those of a maddened man. He crouched on his cushions and + stared at the purdah that divided him from the Lady; and all day the + people came and went about him, and there was silence from the voice he + longed to hear; for she would not moan, lest the sound should slay the + Emperor. Her women besought her, fearing that her strong silence would + break her heart; but still she lay, her hands clenched in one another, + enduring; and the Emperor endured without. The Day of the Smiting! + </p> + <p> + So, as the time of the evening prayer drew nigh, a child was born, and the + Empress, having done with pain, began to sink slowly into that profound + sleep that is the shadow cast by the Last. May Allah the Upholder have + mercy on our weakness! And the women, white with fear and watching, looked + upon her, and whispered one to another, “It is the end.” + </p> + <p> + And the aged mother of Abdul Mirza, standing at her head, said, “She heeds + not the cry of the child. She cannot stay.” And the newly wed wife of Saif + Khan, standing at her feet, said, “The voice of the beloved husband is as + the Call of the Angel. Let the Padishah be summoned.” + </p> + <p> + So, the evening prayer being over (but the Emperor had not prayed), the + wisest of the hakims, Kazim Sharif, went before him and spoke:— + </p> + <p> + “Inhallah! May the will of the Issuer of Decrees in all things be done! + Ascribe unto the Creator glory, bowing before his Throne.” + </p> + <p> + And he remained silent; but the Padishah, haggard in his jewels, with his + face hidden, answered thickly, “The truth! For Allah has forgotten his + slave.” + </p> + <p> + And Kazim Sharif, bowing at his feet and veiling his face with his hands, + replied: + </p> + <p> + “The voice of the child cannot reach her, and the Lady of Delight departs. + He who would speak with her must speak quickly.” + </p> + <p> + Then the Emperor rose to his feet unsteadily, like a man drunk with the + forbidden juice; and when Kazim Sharif would have supported him, he flung + aside his hands, and he stumbled, a man wounded to death, as it were, to + the marble chamber where she lay. + </p> + <p> + In that white chamber it was dusk, and they had lit the little cressets so + that a very faint light fell upon her face. A slender fountain a little + cooled the hot, still air with its thin music and its sprinkled diamonds, + and outside, the summer lightnings were playing wide and blue on the + river; but so still was it that the dragging footsteps of the Emperor + raised the hair on the flesh of those who heard, So the women who should, + veiled themselves, and the others remained like pillars of stone. + </p> + <p> + Now, when those steps were heard, a faint colour rose in the cheek of the + Lady Arjemand; but she did not raise the heavy lashes, or move her hand. + And he came up beside her, and the Shadow of God, who should kneel to + none, knelt, and his head fell forward upon her breast; and in the hush + the women glided out like ghosts, leaving the husband with the wife + excepting only that her foster-nurse stood far off, with eyes averted. + </p> + <p> + So the minutes drifted by, falling audibly one by one into eternity, and + at the long last she slowly opened her eyes and, as from the depths of a + dream, beheld the Emperor; and in a voice faint as the fall of a rose-leaf + she said the one word, “Beloved!” + </p> + <p> + And he from between his clenched teeth, answered, “Speak, wife.” + </p> + <p> + So she, who in all things had loved and served him,—she, Light of + all hearts, dispeller of all gloom,—gathered her dying breath for + consolation, and raised one hand slowly; and it fell across his, and so + remained. + </p> + <p> + Now, her beauty had been broken in the anguish like a rose in storm; but + it returned to her, doubtless that the Padishah might take comfort in its + memory; and she looked like a houri of Paradise who, kneeling beside the + Zemzem Well, beholds the Waters of Peace. Not Fatmeh herself, the daughter + of the Prophet of God, shone more sweetly. She repeated the word, + “Beloved”; and after a pause she whispered on with lips that scarcely + stirred, “King of the Age, this is the end.” + </p> + <p> + But still he was like a dead man, nor lifted his face. + </p> + <p> + “Surely all things pass. And though I go, in your heart I abide, and + nothing can sever us. Take comfort.” + </p> + <p> + But there was no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but Love’s own hand can slay Love. Therefore, remember me, and I + shall live.” + </p> + <p> + And he answered from the darkness of her bosom, “The whole world shall + remember. But when shall I be united to thee? O Allah, how long wilt thou + leave me to waste in this separation?” + </p> + <p> + And she: “Beloved, what is time? We sleep and the night is gone. Now put + your arms about me, for I sink into rest. What words are needed between + us? Love is enough.” + </p> + <p> + So, making not the Profession of Faith,—and what need, since all her + life was worship,—the Lady Arjemand turned into his arms like a + child. And the night deepened. + </p> + <p> + Morning, with its arrows of golden light that struck the river to + splendour! Morning, with its pure breath, its sunshine of joy, and the + koels fluting in the Palace gardens! Morning, divine and new from the hand + of the Maker! And in the innermost chamber of marble a white silence; and + the Lady, the Mirror of Goodness, lying in the Compassion of Allah, and a + broken man stretched on the ground beside her. For all flesh, from the + camel-driver to the Shah-in-Shah, is as one in the Day of the Smiting. + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + For weeks the Emperor lay before the door of death; and had it opened to + him, he had been blessed. So the months went by, and very slowly the + strength returned to him; but his eyes were withered and the bones stood + out in his cheeks. But he resumed his throne, and sat upon it kingly, + black-bearded, eagle-eyed, terribly apart in his grief and his royalty; + and so seated among his Usbegs, he declared his will. + </p> + <p> + “For this Lady (upon whom be peace), departed to the mercy of the Giver + and Taker, shall a tomb-palace be made, the Like of which is not found in + the four corners of the world. Send forth therefore for craftsmen like the + builders of the Temple of Solomon the Wise; for I will build.” + </p> + <p> + So, taking counsel, they sent in haste into Agra for Ustad Isa, the + Master-Builder, a man of Shiraz; and he, being presented before the + Padishah, received his instructions in these words:— + </p> + <p> + “I will that all the world shall remember the Flower of the World, that + all hearts shall give thanks for her beauty, which was indeed the perfect + Mirror of the Creator. And since it is abhorrent of Islam that any image + be made in the likeness of anything that has life, make for me a + palace-tomb, gracious as she was gracious, lovely as she was lovely. Not + such as the tombs of the Kings and the Conquerors, but of a divine + sweetness. Make me a garden on the banks of Jumna, and build it there, + where, sitting in my Pavilion of Marble, I may see it rise.” + </p> + <p> + And Ustad Isa, having heard, said, “Upon my head and eyes!” and went out + from the Presence. + </p> + <p> + So, musing upon the words of the Padishah, he went to his house in Agra, + and there pondered the matter long and deeply; and for a whole day and + night he refused all food and secluded himself from the society of all + men; for he said:— + </p> + <p> + “This is a weighty thing, for this Lady (upon whom be peace) must visibly + dwell in her tomb-palace on the shore of the river; and how shall I, who + have never seen her, imagine the grace that was in her, and restore it to + the world? Oh, had I but the memory of her face! Could I but see it as the + Shah-in-Shah sees it, remembering the past! Prophet of God, intercede for + me, that I may look through his eyes, if but for a moment!” + </p> + <p> + That night he slept, wearied and weakened with fasting; and whether it + were that the body guarded no longer the gates of the soul, I cannot say; + for, when the body ails, the soul soars free above its weakness. But a + strange marvel happened. + </p> + <p> + For, as it seemed to him, he awoke at the mid-noon of the night, and he + was sitting, not in his own house, but upon the roof of the royal palace, + looking down on the gliding Jumna, where the low moon slept in silver, and + the light was alone upon the water; and there were no boats, but sleep and + dream, hovering hand-in-hand, moved upon the air, and his heart was + dilated in the great silence. + </p> + <p> + Yet he knew well that he waked in some supernatural sphere: for his eyes + could see across the river as if the opposite shore lay at his feet; and + he could distinguish every leaf on every tree, and the flowers + moon-blanched and ghost-like. And there, in the blackest shade of the + pippala boughs, he beheld a faint light like a pearl; and looking with + unspeakable anxiety, he saw within the light, slowly growing, the figure + of a lady exceedingly glorious in majesty and crowned with a rayed crown + of mighty jewels of white and golden splendour. Her gold robe fell to her + feet, and—very strange to tell—her feet touched not the + ground, but hung a span’s length above it, so that she floated in the air. + </p> + <p> + But the marvel of marvels was her face—not, indeed, for its beauty, + though that transcended all, but for its singular and compassionate + sweetness, wherewith she looked toward the Palace beyond the river as if + it held the heart of her heart, while death and its river lay between. + </p> + <p> + And Ustad Isa said:—“O dream, if this sweetness be but a dream, let + me never wake! Let me see forever this exquisite work of Allah the Maker, + before whom all the craftsmen are as children! For my knowledge is as + nothing, and I am ashamed in its presence.” + </p> + <p> + And as he spoke, she turned those brimming eyes on him, and he saw her + slowly absorbed into the glory of the moonlight; but as she faded into + dream, he beheld, slowly rising, where her feet had hung in the blessed + air, a palace of whiteness, warm as ivory, cold as chastity, domes and + cupolas, slender minars, arches of marble fretted into sea-foam, screen + within screen of purest marble, to hide the sleeping beauty of a great + Queen—silence in the heart of it, and in every line a harmony beyond + all music. Grace was about it—the grace of a Queen who prays and + does not command; who, seated in her royalty yet inclines all hearts to + love. And he saw that its grace was her grace, and its soul her soul, and + that she gave it for the consolation of the Emperor. + </p> + <p> + And he fell on his face and worshipped the Master-Builder of the Universe, + saying,—“Praise cannot express thy Perfection. Thine Essence + confounds thought. Surely I am but the tool in the hand of the Builder.” + </p> + <p> + And when he awoke, he was lying in his own secret chamber, but beside him + was a drawing such as the craftsmen make of the work they have imagined in + their hearts. And it was the Palace of the Tomb. + </p> + <p> + Henceforward, how should he waver? He was as a slave who obeys his master, + and with haste he summoned to Agra his Army of Beauty. + </p> + <p> + Then were assembled all the master craftsmen of India and of the outer + world. From Delhi, from Shiraz, even from Baghdad and Syria, they came. + Muhammad Hanif, the wise mason, came from Kandahar, Muhammad Sayyid from + Mooltan. Amanat Khan, and other great writers of the holy Koran, who + should make the scripts of the Book upon fine marble. Inlayers from + Kanauj, with fingers like those of the Spirits that bowed before Solomon + the King, who should make beautiful the pure stone with inlay of jewels, + as did their forefathers for the Rajah of Mewar; mighty dealers with + agate, cornelian, and lapis lazuli. Came also, from Bokhara, Ata Muhammad + and Shakri Muhammad, that they might carve the lilies of the field, very + glorious, about that Flower of the World. Men of India, men of Persia, men + of the outer lands, they came at the bidding of Ustad Isa, that the spirit + of his vision might be made manifest. + </p> + <p> + And a great council was held among these servants of beauty, so they made + a model in little of the glory that was to be, and laid it at the feet of + the Shah-in-Shah; and he allowed it, though not as yet fully discerning + their intent. And when it was approved, Ustad Isa called to him a man of + Kashmir; and the very hand of the Creator was upon this man, for he could + make gardens second only to the Gardens of Paradise, having been born by + that Dal Lake where are those roses of the earth, the Shalimar and the + Nishat Bagh; and to him said Ustad Isa,— + </p> + <p> + “Behold, Rain Lal Kashmiri, consider this design! Thus and thus shall a + white palace, exquisite in perfection, arise on the banks of Jumna. Here, + in little, in this model of sandalwood, see what shall be. Consider these + domes, rounded as the Bosom of Beauty, recalling the mystic fruit of the + lotus flower. Consider these four minars that stand about them like + Spirits about the Throne. And remembering that all this shall stand upon a + great dais of purest marble, and that the river shall be its mirror, + repeating to everlasting its loveliness, make me a garden that shall be + the throne room to this Queen.” + </p> + <p> + And Ram Lal Kashmiri salaamed and said, “Obedience!” and went forth and + pondered night and day, journeying even over the snows of the Pir Panjal + to Kashmir, that he might bathe his eyes in beauty where she walks, naked + and divine, upon the earth, and he it was who imagined the black marble + and white that made the way of approach. + </p> + <p> + So grew the palace that should murmur, like a seashell, in the ear of the + world the secret of love. + </p> + <p> + Veiled had that loveliness been in the shadow of the palace; but now the + sun should rise upon it and turn its ivory to gold, should set upon it and + flush its snow with rose. The moon should lie upon it like the pearls upon + her bosom, the visible grace of her presence breathe about it, the music + of her voice hover in the birds and trees of the garden. Times there were + when Ustad Isa despaired lest even these mighty servants of beauty should + miss perfection. Yet it grew and grew, rising like the growth of a flower. + </p> + <p> + So on a certain day it stood completed, and beneath the small tomb in the + sanctuary, veiled with screens of wrought marble so fine that they might + lift in the breeze,—the veils of a Queen,—slept the Lady + Arjemand; and above her a narrow coffer of white marble, enriched in a + great script with the Ninety-Nine Wondrous Names of God. And the + Shah-in-Shah, now grey and worn, entered and, standing by her, cried in a + loud voice,—“I ascribe to the Unity, the only Creator, the + perfection of his handiwork made visible here by the hand of mortal man. + For the beauty that was secret in my Palace is here revealed; and the + Crowned Lady shall sit forever upon the banks of the Jumna River. It was + love that commanded this Tomb.” + </p> + <p> + And the golden echo carried his voice up into the high dome, and it died + away in whispers of music. + </p> + <p> + But Ustad Isa standing far off in the throng (for what are craftsmen in + the presence of the mighty?), said softly in his beard, “It was Love also + that built, and therefore it shall endure.” + </p> + <p> + Now it is told that, on a certain night in summer, when the moon is full, + a man who lingers by the straight water, where the cypresses stand over + their own image, may see a strange marvel—may see the Palace of the + Taj dissolve like a pearl, and so rise in a mist into the moonlight; and + in its place, on her dais of white marble, he shall see the Lady Arjemand, + Mumtaz-i-Mahal, the Chosen of the Palace, stand there in the white + perfection of beauty, smiling as one who hath attained unto the Peace. For + she is its soul. + </p> + <p> + And kneeling before the dais, he shall see Ustad Isa, who made this body + of her beauty; and his face is hidden in his hands. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + “HOW GREAT IS THE GLORY OF KWANNON!” + </h2> + <h3> + A JAPANESE STORY + </h3> + <p> + (O Lovely One-O thou Flower! With Thy beautiful face, with Thy beautiful + eyes, pour light upon the world! Adoration to Kwannon.) + </p> + <p> + In Japan in the days of the remote Ancestors, near the little village of + Shiobara, the river ran through rocks of a very strange blue colour, and + the bed of the river was also composed of these rocks, so that the clear + water ran blue as turquoise gems to the sea. + </p> + <p> + The great forests murmured beside it, and through their swaying boughs was + breathed the song of Eternity. Those who listen may hear if their ears are + open. To others it is but the idle sighing of the wind. + </p> + <p> + Now because of all this beauty there stood in these forests a roughly + built palace of unbarked wood, and here the great Emperor would come from + City-Royal to seek rest for his doubtful thoughts and the cares of state, + turning aside often to see the moonlight in Shiobara. He sought also the + free air and the sound of falling water, yet dearer to him than the + plucked strings of sho and biwa. For he said; + </p> + <p> + “Where and how shall We find peace even for a moment, and afford Our heart + refreshment even for a single second?” + </p> + <p> + And it seemed to him that he found such moments at Shiobara. + </p> + <p> + Only one of his great nobles would His Majesty bring with him—the + Dainagon, and him be chose because he was a worthy and honorable person + and very simple of heart. + </p> + <p> + There was yet another reason why the Son of Heaven inclined to the little + Shiobara. It had reached the Emperor that a Recluse of the utmost sanctity + dwelt in that forest. His name was Semimaru. He had made himself a small + hut in the deep woods, much as a decrepit silkworm might spin his last + Cocoon and there had the Peace found him. + </p> + <p> + It had also reached His Majesty that, although blind, he was exceedingly + skilled in the art of playing the biwa, both in the Flowing Fount manner + and the Woodpecker manner, and that, especially on nights when the moon + was full, this aged man made such music as transported the soul. This + music His Majesty desired very greatly to hear. + </p> + <p> + Never had Semimaru left his hut save to gather wood or seek food until the + Divine Emperor commanded his attendance that he might soothe his august + heart with music. + </p> + <p> + Now on this night of nights the moon was full and the snow heavy on the + pines, and the earth was white also, and when the moon shone through the + boughs it made a cold light like dawn, and the shadows of the trees were + black upon it. + </p> + <p> + The attendants of His Majesty long since slept for sheer weariness, for + the night was far spent, but the Emperor and the Dainagon still sat with + their eyes fixed on the venerable Semimaru. For many hours he had played, + drawing strange music from his biwa. Sometimes it had been like rain + blowing over the plains of Adzuma, sometimes like the winds roaring down + the passes of the Yoshino Mountains, and yet again like the voice of far + cities. For many hours they listened without weariness, and thought that + all the stories of the ancients might flow past them in the weird music + that seemed to have neither beginning nor end. + </p> + <p> + “It is as the river that changes and changes not, and is ever and ever the + same,” said the Emperor in his own soul. + </p> + <p> + And certainly had a voice announced to His Augustness that centuries were + drifting by as he listened, he could have felt no surprise. + </p> + <p> + Before them, as they sat upon the silken floor cushions, was a small + shrine with a Buddha shelf, and a hanging picture of the Amida Buddha + within it—the expression one of rapt peace. Figures of Fugen and + Fudo were placed before the curtain doors of the shrine, looking up in + adoration to the Blessed One. A small and aged pine tree was in a pot of + grey porcelain from Chosen—the only ornament in the chamber. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly His Majesty became aware that the Dainagon also had fallen asleep + from weariness, and that the recluse was no longer playing, but was + speaking in a still voice like a deeply flowing stream. The Emperor had + observed no change from music to speech, nor could he recall when the + music had ceased, so that it altogether resembled a dream. + </p> + <p> + “When I first came here”—the Venerable one continued—“it was + not my intention to stay long in the forest. As each day dawned, I said; + ‘In seven days I go.’ And again—‘In seven.’ Yet have I not gone. The + days glided by and here have I attained to look on the beginnings of + peace. Then wherefore should I go?—for all life is within the soul. + Shall the fish weary of his pool? And I, who through my blind eyes feel + the moon illuming my forest by night and the sun by day, abide in peace, + so that even the wild beasts press round to hear my music. I have come by + a path overblown by autumn leaves. But I have come.” + </p> + <p> + Then said the Divine Emperor as if unconsciously; + </p> + <p> + “Would that I also might come! But the august duties cannot easily be laid + aside. And I have no wife—no son.” + </p> + <p> + And Semimaru, playing very softly on the strings of his biwa made no other + answer, and His Majesty, collecting his thoughts, which had become, as it + were, frozen with the cold and the quiet and the strange music, spoke + thus, as if in a waking dream; + </p> + <p> + “Why have I not wedded? Because I have desired a bride beyond the women of + earth, and of none such as I desire has the rumor reached me. Consider + that Ancestor who wedded Her Shining Majesty! Evil and lovely was she, and + the passions were loud about her. And so it is with women. Trouble and + vexation of spirit, or instead a great weariness. But if the Blessed One + would vouchsafe to my prayers a maiden of blossom and dew, with a heart + calm as moonlight, her would I wed. O, honorable One, whose wisdom surveys + the world, is there in any place near or far—in heaven or in earth, + such a one that I may seek and find?” + </p> + <p> + And Semimaru, still making a very low music on his biwa, said this; + </p> + <p> + “Supreme Master, where the Shiobara River breaks away through the gorges + to the sea, dwelt a poor couple—the husband a wood-cutter. They had + no children to aid in their toil, and daily the woman addressed her + prayers for a son to the Bodhisattwa Kwannon, the Lady of Pity who looketh + down for ever upon the sound of prayer. Very fervently she prayed, with + such offerings as her poverty allowed, and on a certain night she dreamed + this dream. At the shrine of the Senju Kwannon she knelt as was her + custom, and that Great Lady, sitting enthroned upon the Lotos of Purity, + opened Her eyes slowly from Her divine contemplation and heard the prayer + of the wood-cutter’s wife. Then stooping like a blown willow branch, she + gathered a bud from the golden lotos plant that stood upon her altar, and + breathing upon it it became pure white and living, and it exhaled a + perfume like the flowers of Paradise, This flower the Lady of Pity flung + into the bosom of her petitioner, and closing Her eyes returned into Her + divine dream, whilst the woman awoke, weeping for joy. + </p> + <p> + “But when she sought in her bosom for the Lotos it was gone. Of all this + she boasted loudly to her folk and kin, and the more so, when in due time + she perceived herself to be with child, for, from that august favour she + looked for nothing less than a son, radiant with the Five Ornaments of + riches, health, longevity, beauty, and success. Yet, when her hour was + come, a girl was born, and blind.” + </p> + <p> + “Was she welcomed?” asked the dreaming voice of the Emperor. + </p> + <p> + “Augustness, but as a household drudge. For her food was cruelty and her + drink tears. And the shrine of the Senju Kwannon was neglected by her + parents because of the disappointment and shame of the unwanted gift. And + they believed that, lost in Her divine contemplation, the Great Lady would + not perceive this neglect. The Gods however are known by their great + memories.” + </p> + <p> + “Her name?” + </p> + <p> + “Majesty, Tsuyu-Morning Dew. And like the morning dew she shines in + stillness. She has repaid good for evil to her evil parents, serving them + with unwearied service.” + </p> + <p> + “What distinguishes her from others?” + </p> + <p> + “Augustness, a very great peace. Doubtless the shadow of the dream of the + Holy Kwannon. She works, she moves, she smiles as one who has tasted of + content.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she beauty?” + </p> + <p> + “Supreme Master, am I not blind? But it is said that she has no beauty + that men should desire her. Her face is flat and round, and her eyes + blind.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet content?” + </p> + <p> + “Philosophers might envy her calm. And her blindness is without doubt a + grace from the excelling Pity, for could she see her own exceeding + ugliness she must weep for shame. But she sees not. Her sight is inward, + and she is well content.” + </p> + <p> + “Where does she dwell?” + </p> + <p> + “Supreme Majesty, far from here—where in the heart of the woods the + river breaks through the rocks.” + </p> + <p> + “Venerable One, why have you told me this? I asked for a royal maiden wise + and beautiful, calm as the dawn, and you have told me of a wood-cutter’s + drudge, blind and ugly.” + </p> + <p> + And now Semimaru did not answer, but the tones of the biwa grew louder and + clearer, and they rang like a song of triumph, and the Emperor could hear + these words in the voice of the strings. + </p> + <p> + “She is beautiful as the night, crowned with moon and stars for him who + has eyes to see. Princess Splendour was dim beside her; Prince Fireshine, + gloom! Her Shining Majesty was but a darkened glory before this maid. All + beauty shines within her hidden eyes.” + </p> + <p> + And having uttered this the music became wordless once more, but it still + flowed on more and more softly like a river that flows into the far + distance. + </p> + <p> + The Emperor stared at the mats, musing—the light of the lamp was + burning low. His heart said within him; + </p> + <p> + “This maiden, cast like a flower from the hand of Kwannon Sama, will I + see.” + </p> + <p> + And as he said this the music had faded away into a thread-like smallness, + and when after long thought he raised his august head, he was alone save + for the Dainagon, sleeping on the mats behind him, and the chamber was in + darkness. Semimaru had departed in silence, and His Majesty, looking forth + into the broad moonlight, could see the track of his feet upon the shining + snow, and the music came back very thinly like spring rain in the trees. + Once more he looked at the whiteness of the night, and then, stretching + his august person on the mats, he slept amid dreams of sweet sound. + </p> + <p> + The next day, forbidding any to follow save the Dainagon, His Majesty went + forth upon the frozen snow where the sun shone in a blinding whiteness. + They followed the track of Semimaru’s feet far under the pine trees so + heavy with their load of snow that they were bowed as if with fruit. And + the track led on and the air was so still that the cracking of a bough was + like the blow of a hammer, and the sliding of a load of snow from a branch + like the fall of an avalanche. Nor did they speak as they went. They + listened, nor could they say for what. + </p> + <p> + Then, when they had gone a very great way, the track ceased suddenly, as + if cut off, and at this spot, under the pines furred with snow, His + Majesty became aware of a perfume so sweet that it was as though all the + flowers of the earth haunted the place with their presence, and a music + like the biwa of Semimaru was heard in the tree tops. This sounded far off + like the whispering of rain when it falls in very small leaves, and + presently it died away, and a voice followed after, singing, alone in the + woods, so that the silence appeared to have been created that such a music + might possess the world. So the Emperor stopped instantly, and the + Dainagon behind him and he heard these words. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “In me the Heavenly Lotos grew, + The fibres ran from head to feet, + And my heart was the august Blossom. + Therefore the sweetness flowed through the veins of my flesh, + And I breathed peace upon all the world, + And about me was my fragrance shed + That the souls of men should desire me.” + </pre> + <p> + Now, as he listened, there came through the wood a maiden, bare—footed, + save for grass sandals, and clad in coarse clothing, and she came up and + passed them, still singing. + </p> + <p> + And when she was past, His Majesty put up his hand to his eyes, like one + dreaming, and said; + </p> + <p> + “What have you seen?” + </p> + <p> + And the Dainagon answered; + </p> + <p> + “Augustness, a country wench, flat—faced, ugly and blind, and with a + voice like a crow. Has not your Majesty seen this?” + </p> + <p> + The Emperor, still shading his eyes, replied; + </p> + <p> + “I saw a maiden so beautiful that her Shining Majesty would be a black + blot beside her. As she went, the Spring and all its sweetness blew from + her garments. Her robe was green with small gold flowers. Her eyes were + closed, but she resembled a cherry tree, snowy with bloom and dew. Her + voice was like the singing flowers of Paradise.” + </p> + <p> + The Dainagon looked at him with fear and compassion; + </p> + <p> + “Augustness, how should such a lady carry in her arms a bundle of + firewood?” + </p> + <p> + “She bore in her hands three lotos flowers, and where each foot fell I saw + a lotos bloom and vanish.” + </p> + <p> + They retraced their steps through the wood; His Majesty radiant as Prince + Fireshine with the joy that filled his soul; the Dainagon darkened as + Prince Firefade with fear, believing that the strange music of Semimaru + had bewitched His Majesty, or that the maiden herself might possibly have + the power of the fox in shape-changing and bewildering the senses. + </p> + <p> + Very sorrowful and careful was his heart for he loved his Master. + </p> + <p> + That night His Majesty dreamed that he stood before the kakemono of the + Amida Buddha, and that as he raised his eyes in adoration to the Blessed + Face, he beheld the images of Fugen and Fudo, rise up and bow down before + that One Who Is. Then, gliding in, before these Holinesses stood a figure, + and it was the wood-cutter’s daughter homely and blinded. She stretched + her hands upward as though invoking the supreme Buddha, and then turning + to His Majesty she smiled upon him, her eyes closed as in bliss + unutterable. And he said aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Would that I might see her eyes!” and so saying awoke in a great + stillness of snow and moonlight. + </p> + <p> + Having waked, he said within himself + </p> + <p> + “This marvel will I wed and she shall be my Empress were she lower than + the Eta, and whether her face be lovely or homely. For she is certainly a + flower dropped from the hand of the Divine.” + </p> + <p> + So when the sun was high His Majesty, again followed by the Dainagon, went + through the forest swiftly, and like a man that sees his goal, and when + they reached the place where the maiden went by, His Majesty straitly + commanded the Dainagon that he should draw apart, and leave him to speak + with the maiden; yet that he should watch what befell. + </p> + <p> + So the Dainagon watched, and again he saw her come, very poorly clad, and + with bare feet that shrank from the snow in her grass sandals, bowed + beneath a heavy load of wood upon her shoulders, and her face flat and + homely like a girl of the people, and her eyes blind and shut. + </p> + <p> + And as she came she sang this. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The Eternal way lies before him, + The way that is made manifest in the Wise. + The Heart that loves reveals itself to man. + For now he draws nigh to the Source. + The night advances fast, + And lo! the moon shines bright.” + </pre> + <p> + And to the Dainagon it seemed a harsh crying nor could he distinguish any + words at all. + </p> + <p> + But what His Majesty beheld was this. The evening had come on and the moon + was rising. The snow had gone. It was the full glory of spring, and the + flowers sprang thick as stars upon the grass, and among them lotos + flowers, great as the wheel of a chariot, white and shining with the + luminance of the pearl, and upon each one of these was seated an incarnate + Holiness, looking upward with joined hands. In the trees were the voices + of the mystic Birds that are the utterance of the Blessed One, proclaiming + in harmony the Five Virtues, The Five Powers, the Seven Steps ascending to + perfect Illumination, the Noble Eightfold Path, and all the Law. And, + bearing, in the heart of the Son of Heaven awoke the Three Remembrances—the + Remembrance of Him who is Blessed, Remembrance of the Law, and Remembrance + of the Communion of the Assembly. + </p> + <p> + So, looking upward to the heavens, he beheld the Infinite Buddha, high and + lifted up in a great raying glory. About Him were the exalted + Bodhisattwas, the mighty Disciples, great Arhats all, and all the + countless Angelhood. And these rose high into the infinite until they + could be seen but as a point of fire against the moon. With this golden + multitude beyond all numbering was He. + </p> + <p> + Then, as His Majesty had seen in the dream of the night, the wood-cutter’s + daughter, moving through the flowers like one blind that gropes his way, + advanced before the Blessed Feet, and uplifting her hands, did adoration, + and her face he could not see, but his heart went with her, adoring also + the infinite Buddha seated in the calms of boundless Light. + </p> + <p> + Then enlightenment entered at his eyes, as a man that wakes from sleep, + and suddenly he beheld the Maiden crowned and robed and terrible in + beauty, and her feet were stayed upon an open lotos, and his soul knew the + Senju Kwannon Herself, myriad-armed for the helping of mankind. + </p> + <p> + And turning, she smiled as in the vision, but his eyes being now clear her + blinded eyes were opened, and that glory who shall tell as those living + founts of Wisdom rayed upon him their ineffable light? In that ocean was + his being drowned, and so, bowed before the Infinite Buddha, he received + the Greater Illumination. + </p> + <p> + How great is the Glory of Kwannon! + </p> + <p> + When the radiance and the vision were withdrawn and only the moon looked + over the trees, His Majesty rose upon his feet, and standing on the snow, + surrounded with calm, he called to the Dainagon, and asked this; + </p> + <p> + “What have you seen?” + </p> + <p> + “Augustness, nothing but the country wench and moon and snow.” + </p> + <p> + “And heard?” + </p> + <p> + “Augustness, nothing but the harsh voice of the wood-cutter’s daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “And felt?” + </p> + <p> + “Augustness, nothing but the bone-piercing cold.” So His Majesty adored + that which cannot be uttered, saying; + </p> + <p> + “So Wisdom, so Glory encompass us about, and we see them not for we are + blinded with illusion. Yet every stone is a jewel and every clod is spirit + and to the hems of the Infinite Buddha all cling. Through the compassion + of the Supernal Mercy that walks the earth as the Bodhisattwa Kwannon, am + I admitted to wisdom and given sight and hearing. And what is all the + world to that happy one who has beheld Her eyes!” + </p> + <p> + And His Majesty returned through the forest. + </p> + <p> + When, the next day, he sent for the venerable Semimaru that holy recluse + had departed and none knew where. But still when the moon is full a + strange music moves in the tree tops of Shiobara. + </p> + <p> + Then His sacred Majesty returned to City-Royal, having determined to + retire into the quiet life, and there, abandoning the throne to a kinsman + wise in greatness, he became a dweller in the deserted hut of Semimaru. + </p> + <p> + His life, like a descending moon approaching the hill that should hide it, + was passed in meditation on that Incarnate Love and Compassion whose glory + had augustly been made known to him, and having cast aside all save the + image of the Divine from his soul, His Majesty became even as that man who + desired enlightenment of the Blessed One. + </p> + <p> + For he, desiring instruction, gathered precious flowers, and journeyed to + present them as an offering to the Guatama Buddha. Standing before Him, he + stretched forth both his hands holding the flowers. + </p> + <p> + Then said the Holy One, looking upon his petitioner’s right hand; + </p> + <p> + “Loose your hold of these.” + </p> + <p> + And the man dropped the flowers from his right hand. And the Holy One + looking upon his left hand, said; + </p> + <p> + “Loose your hold of these.” + </p> + <p> + And, sorrowing, he dropped the flowers from his left hand. And again the + Master said; + </p> + <p> + “Loose your hold of that which is neither in the right nor in the left.” + </p> + <p> + And the disciple said very pitifully; + </p> + <p> + “Lord, of what should I loose my hold for I have nothing left?” + </p> + <p> + And He looked upon him steadfastly. + </p> + <p> + Therefore at last understanding he emptied his soul of all desire, and of + fear that is the shadow of desire, and being enlightened relinquished all + burdens. + </p> + <p> + So was it also with His Majesty. In peace he dwelt, and becoming a great + Arhat, in peace he departed to that Uttermost Joy where is the Blessed One + made manifest in Pure Light. + </p> + <p> + As for the parents of the maiden, they entered after sore troubles into + peace, having been remembered by the Infinite. For it is certain that the + enemies also of the Supreme Buddha go to salvation by thinking on Him, + even though it be against Him. + </p> + <p> + And he who tells this truth makes this prayer to the Lady of Pity; + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Grant me, I pray, + One dewdrop from Thy willow spray, + And in the double Lotos keep + My hidden heart asleep.” + </pre> + <p> + How great is the Glory of Kwannon! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ROUND-FACED BEAUTY + </h2> + <h3> + A STORY OF THE CHINESE COURT + </h3> + <p> + In the city of Chang-an music filled the palaces, and the festivities of + the Emperor were measured by its beat. Night, and the full moon swimming + like a gold-fish in the garden lakes, gave the signal for the Feather + Jacket and Rainbow Skirt dances. Morning, with the rising sun, summoned + the court again to the feast and wine-cup in the floating gardens. + </p> + <p> + The Emperor Chung Tsu favored this city before all others. The Yen Tower + soaring heavenward, the Drum Towers, the Pearl Pagoda, were the only fit + surroundings of his magnificence; and in the Pavilion of Tranquil Learning + were held those discussions which enlightened the world and spread the + fame of the Jade Emperor far and wide. In all respects he adorned the + Dragon Throne—in all but one; for Nature, bestowing so much, + withheld one gift, and the Imperial heart, as precious as jade, was also + as hard, and he eschewed utterly the company of the Hidden Palace Flowers. + </p> + <p> + Yet the Inner Chambers were filled with ladies chosen from all parts of + the Celestial Empire—ladies of the most exquisite and torturing + beauty, moons of loveliness, moving coquettishly on little feet, with all + the grace of willow branches in a light breeze. They were sprinkled with + perfumes, adorned with jewels, robed in silks woven with gold and + embroidered with designs of flowers and birds. Their faces were painted + and their eyebrows formed into slender and perfect arches whence the soul + of man might well slip to perdition, and a breath of sweet odor followed + each wherever she moved. Every one might have been the Empress of some + lesser kingdom; but though rumours reached the Son of Heaven from time to + time of their charms,—especially when some new blossom was added to + the Imperial bouquet,—he had dismissed them from his august + thoughts, and they languished in a neglect so complete that the Great Cold + Palaces of the Moon were not more empty than their hearts. They remained + under the supervision of the Princess of Han, August Aunt of the Emperor, + knowing that their Lord considered the company of sleeve-dogs and macaws + more pleasant than their own. Nor had he as yet chosen an Empress, and it + was evident that without some miracle, such as the intervention of the + Municipal God, no heir to the throne could be hoped for. + </p> + <p> + Yet the Emperor one day remembered his imprisoned beauties, and it crossed + the Imperial thoughts that even these inferior creatures might afford such + interest as may be found in the gambols of trained fleas or other insects + of no natural attainments. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, he commanded that the subject last discussed in his presence + should be transferred to the Inner Chambers, and it was his Order that the + ladies should also discuss it, and their opinions be engraved on ivory, + bound together with red silk and tassels and thus presented at the Dragon + feet. The subject chosen was the following:— + </p> + <p> + Describe the Qualities of the Ideal Man + </p> + <p> + Now when this command was laid before the August Aunt, the guardian of the + Inner Chambers, she was much perturbed in mind, for such a thing was + unheard of in all the annals of the Empire. Recovering herself, she + ventured to say that the discussion of such a question might raise very + disquieting thoughts in the minds of the ladies, who could not be supposed + to have any opinions at all on such a subject. Nor was it desirable that + they should have. To every woman her husband and no other is and must be + the Ideal Man. So it was always in the past; so it must ever be. There are + certain things which it is dangerous to question or discuss, and how can + ladies who have never spoken with any other man than a parent or a brother + judge such matters? + </p> + <p> + “How, indeed,” asked this lady of exalted merit, “can the bat form an idea + of the sunlight, or the carp of the motion of wings? If his Celestial + Majesty had commanded a discussion on the Superior Woman and the virtues + which should adorn her, some sentiments not wholly unworthy might have + been offered. But this is a calamity. They come unexpectedly, springing up + like mushrooms, and this one is probably due to the lack of virtue of the + inelegant and unintellectual person who is now speaking.” + </p> + <p> + This she uttered in the presence of the principal beauties of the Inner + Chambers. They sat or reclined about her in attitudes of perfect + loveliness. Two, embroidering silver pheasants, paused with their needles + suspended above the stretched silk, to hear the August Aunt. One, + threading beads of jewel jade, permitted them to slip from the string and + so distended the rose of her mouth in surprise that the small pearl-shells + were visible within. The Lady Tortoise, caressing a scarlet and azure + macaw, in her agitation so twitched the feathers that the bird, shrieking, + bit her finger. The Lady Golden Bells blushed deeply at the thought of + what was required of them; and the little Lady Summer Dress, youngest of + all the assembled beauties, was so alarmed at the prospect that she began + to sob aloud, until she met the eye of the August Aunt and abruptly + ceased. + </p> + <p> + “It is not, however, to be supposed,” said the August Aunt, opening her + snuff-bottle of painted crystal, “that the minds of our deplorable and + unattractive sex are wholly incapable of forming opinions. But speech is a + grave matter for women, naturally slow-witted and feeble-minded as they + are. This unenlightened person recalls the Odes as saying:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘A flaw in a piece of white jade + May be ground away, + But when a woman has spoken foolishly + Nothing can be done-’ +</pre> + <p> + a consideration which should make every lady here and throughout the world + think anxiously before speech.” So anxiously did the assembled beauties + think, that all remained mute as fish in a pool, and the August Aunt + continued:— + </p> + <p> + “Let Tsu-ssu be summoned. It is my intention to suggest to the Dragon + Emperor that the virtues of women be the subject of our discourse, and I + will myself open and conclude the discussion.” + </p> + <p> + Tsu-ssu was not long in kotowing before the August Aunt, who despatched + her message with the proper ceremonial due to its Imperial destination; + and meanwhile, in much agitation, the beauties could but twitter and + whisper in each other’s ears, and await the response like condemned + prisoners who yet hope for reprieve. + </p> + <p> + Scarce an hour had dripped away on the water-clock when an Imperial + Missive bound with yellow silk arrived, and the August Aunt, rising, + kotowed nine times before she received it in her jewelled hand with its + delicate and lengthy nails ensheathed in pure gold and set with gems of + the first water. She then read it aloud, the ladies prostrating + themselves. + </p> + <p> + To the Princess of Han, the August Aunt, the Lady of the Nine Superior + Virtues:— + </p> + <p> + “Having deeply reflected on the wisdom submitted, We thus reply. Women + should not be the judges of their own virtues, since these exist only in + relation to men. Let Our Command therefore be executed, and tablets + presented before us seven days hence, with the name of each lady appended + to her tablet.” + </p> + <p> + It was indeed pitiable to see the anxiety of the ladies! A sacrifice to + Kwan-Yin, the Goddess of Mercy, of a jewel from each, with intercession + for aid, was proposed by the Lustrous Lady; but the majority shook their + heads sadly. The August Aunt, tossing her head, declared that, as the Son + of Heaven had made no comment on her proposal of opening and closing the + discussion, she should take no part other than safeguarding the interests + of propriety. This much increased the alarm, and, kneeling at her feet, + the swan-like beauties, Deep-Snow and Winter Moon implored her aid and + compassion. But, rising indignantly, the August Aunt sought her own + apartments, and for the first time the inmates of the Pepper Chamber saw + with regret the golden dragons embroidered on her back. + </p> + <p> + It was then that the Round-Faced Beauty ventured a remark. This maiden, + having been born in the far-off province of Suchuan, was considered a + rustic by the distinguished elegance of the Palace and, therefore, had + never spoken unless decorum required. Still, even her detractors were + compelled to admit the charms that had gained her her name. Her face had + the flawless outline of the pearl, and like the blossom of the plum was + the purity of her complexion, upon which the darkness of her eyebrows + resembled two silk-moths alighted to flutter above the brilliance of her + eyes—eyes which even the August Aunt had commended after a banquet + of unsurpassed variety. Her hair had been compared to the crow’s plumage; + her waist was like a roll of silk, and her discretion in habiting herself + was such that even the Lustrous Lady and the Lady Tortoise drew + instruction from the splendours of her robes. It created, however, a + general astonishment when she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Paragons of beauty, what is this dull and opaque-witted person that she + should speak?” + </p> + <p> + “What, indeed!” said the Celestial Sister. “This entirely undistinguished + person cannot even imagine.” + </p> + <p> + A distressing pause followed, during which many whispered anxiously. The + Lustrous Lady broke it. + </p> + <p> + “It is true that the highly ornamental Round-Faced Beauty is but lately + come, yet even the intelligent Ant may assist the Dragon; and in the + presence of alarm, what is decorum? With a tiger behind one, who can + recall the Book of Rites and act with befitting elegance?” + </p> + <p> + “The high-born will at all times remember the Rites!” retorted the + Celestial Sister. “Have we not heard the August Aunt observe: ‘Those who + understand do not speak. Those who speak do not understand’?” + </p> + <p> + The Round-Faced Beauty collected her courage. + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless this is wisdom; yet if the wise do not speak, who should + instruct us? The August Aunt herself would be silent.” + </p> + <p> + All were confounded by this dilemma, and the little Lady Summer-Dress, + still weeping, entreated that the Round-Faced Beauty might be heard. The + Heavenly Blossoms then prepared to listen and assumed attitudes of + attention, which so disconcerted the Round-Faced Beauty that she blushed + like a spring tulip in speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful ladies, our Lord, who is unknown to us all, has issued an + august command. It cannot be disputed, for the whisper of disobedience is + heard as thunder in the Imperial Presence. Should we not aid each other? + If any lady has formed a dream in her soul of the Ideal Man, might not + such a picture aid us all? Let us not be ‘say-nothing-do-nothing,’ but + act!” + </p> + <p> + They hung their heads and smiled, but none would allow that she had formed + such an image. The little Lady Tortoise, laughing behind her fan of + sandalwood, said roguishly: “The Ideal Man should be handsome, liberal in + giving, and assuredly he should appreciate the beauty of his wives. But + this we cannot say to the Divine Emperor.” + </p> + <p> + A sigh rustled through the Pepper Chamber. The Celestial Sister looked + angrily at the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “This is the talk of children,” she said. “Does no one remember + Kung-fu-tse’s [Confucius] description of the Superior Man?” + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately none did—not even the Celestial Sister herself. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not probable,” said the Round-Faced Beauty, “that the Divine + Emperor remembers it himself and wishes—” + </p> + <p> + But the Celestial Sister, yawning audibly, summoned the attendants to + bring rose-leaves in honey, and would hear no more. + </p> + <p> + The Round-Faced Beauty therefore wandered forth among the mossy rocks and + drooping willows of the Imperial Garden, deeply considering the matter. + She ascended the bow-curved bridge of marble which crossed the Pool of + Clear Weather, and from the top idly observed the reflection of her + rose-and-gold coat in the water while, with her taper fingers, she + crumbled cake for the fortunate gold-fish that dwelt in it. And, so doing, + she remarked one fish, four-tailed among the six-tailed, and in no way + distinguished by elegance, which secured by far the largest share of the + crumbs dropped into the pool. Bending lower, she observed this singular + fish and its methods. + </p> + <p> + The others crowded about the spot where the crumbs fell, all herded + together. In their eagerness and stupidity they remained like a cloud of + gold in one spot, slowly waving their tails. But this fish, concealing + itself behind a miniature rock, waited, looking upward, until the crumbs + were falling, and then, rushing forth with the speed of an arrow, + scattered the stupid mass of fish, and bore off the crumbs to its shelter, + where it instantly devoured them. + </p> + <p> + “This is notable,” said the Round-Faced Beauty. “Observation enlightens + the mind. To be apart—to be distinguished—secures notice!” And + she plunged into thought again, wandering, herself a flower, among the + gorgeous tree peonies. + </p> + <p> + On the following day the August Aunt commanded that a writer among the + palace attendants should, with brush and ink, be summoned to transcribe + the wisdom of the ladies. She requested that each would give three days to + thought, relating the following anecdote. “There was a man who, taking a + piece of ivory, carved it into a mulberry leaf, spending three years on + the task. When finished it could not be told from the original, and was a + gift suitable for the Brother of the Sun and Moon. Do likewise!” + </p> + <p> + “But yet, O Augustness!” said the Celestial Sister, “if the Lord of Heaven + took as long with each leaf, there would be few leaves on the trees, and + if-” + </p> + <p> + The August Aunt immediately commanded silence and retired. On the third + day she seated herself in her chair of carved ebony, while the attendant + placed himself by her feet and prepared to record her words. + </p> + <p> + “This insignificant person has decided,” began her Augustness, looking + round and unscrewing the amber top of her snuff-bottle, “to take an + unintelligent part in these proceedings. An example should be set. + Attendant, write!” + </p> + <p> + She then dictated as follows: “The Ideal Man is he who now decorates the + Imperial Throne, or he who in all humility ventures to resemble the + incomparable Emperor. Though he may not hope to attain, his endeavor is + his merit. No further description it needed.” + </p> + <p> + With complacence she inhaled the perfumed snuff, as the writer appended + the elegant characters of her Imperial name. + </p> + <p> + If it is permissible to say that the faces of the beauties lengthened + visibly, it should now be said. For it had been the intention of every + lady to make an illusion to the Celestial Emperor and depict him as the + Ideal Man. Nor had they expected that the August Aunt would take any part + in the matter. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but it was the intention of this commonplace and undignified person + to say this very thing!” cried the Lustrous Lady, with tears in the jewels + of her eyes. “I thought no other high-minded and distinguished lady would + for a moment think of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And it was my intention also!” fluttered the little Lady Tortoise, + wringing her hands! “What now shall this most unlucky and unendurable + person do? For three nights has sleep forsaken my unattractive eyelids, + and, tossing and turning on a couch deprived of all comfort, I could only + repeat, ‘The Ideal Man is the Divine Dragon Emperor!’” + </p> + <p> + “May one of entirely contemptible attainments make a suggestion in this + assemblage of scintillating wit and beauty?” inquired the Celestial + Sister. “My superficial opinion is that it would be well to prepare a + single paper to which all names should be appended, stating that His + Majesty in his Dragon Divinity comprises all ideals in his sacred Person.” + </p> + <p> + “Let those words be recorded,” said the August Aunt. “What else should any + lady of discretion and propriety say? In this Palace of Virtuous Peace, + where all is consecrated to the Son of Heaven, though he deigns not to + enter it, what other thought dare be breathed? Has any lady ventured to + step outside such a limit? If so, let her declare herself!” + </p> + <p> + All shook their heads, and the August Aunt proceeded: “Let the writer + record this as the opinion of every lady of the Imperial Household, and + let each name be separately appended.” + </p> + <p> + Had any desired to object, none dared to confront the August Aunt; but + apparently no beauty so desired, for after three nights’ sleepless + meditation, no other thought than this had occurred to any. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, the writer moved from lady to lady and, under the supervision + of the August Aunt, transcribed the following: “The Ideal Man is the + earthly likeness of the Divine Emperor. How should it be otherwise?” And + under this sentence wrote the name of each lovely one in succession. The + papers were then placed in the hanging sleeves of the August Aunt for + safety. + </p> + <p> + By the decree of Fate, the father of the Round-Faced Beauty had, before he + became an ancestral spirit, been a scholar of distinction, having + graduated at the age of seventy-two with a composition commended by the + Grand Examiner. Having no gold and silver to give his daughter, he had + formed her mind, and had presented her with the sole jewel of his family-a + pearl as large as a bean. Such was her sole dower, but the accomplished + Aunt may excel the indolent Prince. + </p> + <p> + Yet, before the thought in her mind, she hesitated and trembled, recalling + the lesson of the gold-fish; and it was with anxiety that paled her + roseate lips that, on a certain day, she had sought the Willow Bridge + Pavilion. There had awaited her a palace attendant skilled with the brush, + and there in secrecy and dire affright, hearing the footsteps of the + August Aunt in every rustle of leafage, and her voice in the call of every + crow, did the Round-Faced Beauty dictate the following composition:— + </p> + <p> + “Though the sky rain pearls, it cannot equal the beneficence of the Son of + Heaven. Though the sky rain jade it cannot equal his magnificence. He has + commanded his slave to describe the qualities of the Ideal Man. How should + I, a mere woman, do this? I, who have not seen the Divine Emperor, how + should I know what is virtue? I, who have not seen the glory of his + countenance, how should I know what is beauty? Report speaks of his + excellencies, but I who live in the dark know not. But to the Ideal Woman, + the very vices of her husband are virtues. Should he exalt another, this + is a mark of his superior taste. Should he dismiss his slave, this is + justice. To the Ideal Woman there is but one Ideal Man—and that is + her lord. From the day she crosses his threshold, to the day when they + clothe her in the garments of Immortality, this is her sole opinion. Yet + would that she might receive instruction of what only are beauty and + virtue in his adorable presence.” + </p> + <p> + This being written, she presented her one pearl to the attendant and fled, + not looking behind her, as quickly as her delicate feet would permit. + </p> + <p> + On the seventh day the compositions, engraved on ivory and bound with red + silk and tassels, were presented to the Emperor, and for seven days more + he forgot their existence. On the eighth the High Chamberlain ventured to + recall them to the Imperial memory, and the Emperor glancing slightly at + one after another, threw them aside, yawning as he did so. Finally, one + arrested his eyes, and reading it more than once he laid it before him and + meditated. An hour passed in this way while the forgotten Lord Chamberlain + continued to kneel. The Son of Heaven, then raising his head, pronounced + these words: “In the society of the Ideal Woman, she to whom jealousy is + unknown, tranquillity might possibly be obtained. Let prayer be made + before the Ancestors with the customary offerings, for this is a matter + deserving attention.” + </p> + <p> + A few days passed, and an Imperial attendant, escorted by two mandarins of + the peacock-feather and crystal-button rank, desired an audience of the + August Aunt, and, speaking before the curtain, informed her that his + Imperial Majesty would pay a visit that evening to the Hall of Tranquil + Longevity. Such was her agitation at this honour that she immediately + swooned; but, reviving, summoned all the attendants and gave orders for a + banquet and musicians. + </p> + <p> + Lanterns painted with pheasants and exquisite landscapes were hung on all + the pavilions. Tapestries of rose, decorated with the Five-Clawed Dragons, + adorned the chambers; and upon the High Seat was placed a robe of yellow + satin embroidered with pearls. All was hurry and excitement. The Blossoms + of the Palace were so exquisitely decked that one grain more of powder + would have made them too lily-like, and one touch more of rouge, too + rosecheeked. It was indeed perfection, and, like lotuses upon a lake, or + Asian birds, gorgeous of plumage, they stood ranged in the outer chamber + while the Celestial Emperor took his seat. + </p> + <p> + The Round-Faced Beauty wore no jewels, having bartered her pearl for her + opportunity; but her long coat of jade-green, embroidered with golden + willows, and her trousers of palest rose left nothing to be desired. In + her hair two golden peonies were fastened with pins of kingfisher work. + The Son of Heaven was seated upon the throne as the ladies approached, + marshaled by the August Aunt. He was attired in the Yellow Robe with the + Flying Dragons, and upon the Imperial Head was the Cap, ornamented with + one hundred and forty-four priceless gems. From it hung the twelve + pendants of strings of pearls, partly concealing the august eyes of the + Jade Emperor. No greater splendour can strike awe into the soul of man. + </p> + <p> + At his command the August Aunt took her seat upon a lesser chair at the + Celestial Feet. Her mien was majestic, and struck awe into the assembled + beauties, whose names she spoke aloud as each approached and prostrated + herself. She then pronounced these words: + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful ones, the Emperor, having considered the opinions submitted by + you on the subject of the Superior Man, is pleased to express his august + commendation. Dismiss, therefore, anxiety from your minds, and prepare to + assist at the humble concert of music we have prepared for his Divine + pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + Slightly raising himself in his chair, the Son of Heaven looked down upon + that Garden of Beauty, holding in his hand an ivory tablet bound with red + silk. + </p> + <p> + “Lovely ladies,” he began, in a voice that assuaged fear, “who among you + was it that laid before our feet a composition beginning thus—‘Though + the sky rain pearls’?” + </p> + <p> + The August Aunt immediately rose. + </p> + <p> + “Imperial Majesty, none! These eyes supervised every composition. No + impropriety was permitted.” + </p> + <p> + The Son of Heaven resumed: “Let that lady stand forth.” + </p> + <p> + The words were few, but sufficient. Trembling in every limb, the + Round-Faced Beauty separated herself from her companions and prostrated + herself, amid the breathless amazement of the Blossoms of the Palace. He + looked down upon her as she knelt, pale as a lady carved in ivory, but + lovely as the lotus of Chang-Su. He turned to the August Aunt. “Princess + of Han, my Imperial Aunt, I would speak with this lady alone.” + </p> + <p> + Decorum itself and the custom of Palaces could not conceal the indignation + of the August Aunt as she rose and retired, driving the ladies before her + as a shepherd drives his sheep. + </p> + <p> + The Hall of Tranquil Longevity being now empty, the Jade Emperor extended + his hand and beckoned the Round-Faced Beauty to approach. This she did, + hanging her head like a flower surcharged with dew and swaying gracefully + as a wind-bell, and knelt on the lowest step of the Seat of State. + </p> + <p> + “Loveliest One,” said the Emperor, “I have read your composition. I would + know the truth. Did any aid you as you spoke it? Was it the thought of + your own heart?” + </p> + <p> + “None aided, Divine,” said she, almost fainting with fear. “It was indeed + the thought of this illiterate slave, consumed with an unwarranted but + uncontrollable passion.” + </p> + <p> + “And have you in truth desired to see your Lord?” + </p> + <p> + “As a prisoner in a dungeon desires the light, so was it with this low + person.” + </p> + <p> + “And having seen?” + </p> + <p> + “Augustness, the dull eyes of this slave are blinded with beauty.” + </p> + <p> + She laid her head before his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Yet you have depicted, not the Ideal Man, but the Ideal Woman. This was + not the Celestial command. How was this?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, O versatile and auspicious Emperor, the blind cannot behold the + sunlight, and it is only the Ideal Woman who is worthy to comprehend and + worship the Ideal Man. For this alone is she created.” + </p> + <p> + A smile began to illuminate the Imperial Countenance. “And how, O + Round-Faced Beauty, did you evade the vigilance of the August Aunt?” + </p> + <p> + She hung her head lower, speaking almost in a whisper. “With her one pearl + did this person buy the secrecy of the writer; and when the August Aunt + slept, did I conceal the paper in her sleeve with the rest, and her own + Imperial hand gave it to the engraver of ivory.” + </p> + <p> + She veiled her face with two jade-white hands that trembled excessively. + On hearing this statement the Celestial Emperor broke at once into a very + great laughter, and he laughed loud and long as a tiller of wheat. The + Round-Faced Beauty heard it demurely until, catching the Imperial eye, + decorum was forgotten and she too laughed uncontrollably. So they + continued, and finally the Emperor leaned back, drying the tears in his + eyes with his august sleeve, and the lady, resuming her gravity, hid her + face in her hands, yet regarded him through her fingers. + </p> + <p> + When the August Aunt returned at the end of an hour with the ladies, + surrounded by the attendants with their instruments of music, the + Round-Faced Beauty was seated in the chair that she herself had occupied, + and on the whiteness of her brow was hung the chain of pearls, which had + formed the frontal of the Cap of the Emperor. + </p> + <p> + It is recorded that, advancing from honour to honour, the Round-Faced + Beauty was eventually chosen Empress and became the mother of the Imperial + Prince. The celestial purity of her mind and the absence of all flaws of + jealousy and anger warranted this distinction. But it is also recorded + that, after her elevation, no other lady was ever exalted in the Imperial + favour or received the slightest notice from the Emperor. For the Empress, + now well acquainted with the Ideal Man, judged it better that his + experiences of the Ideal Woman should be drawn from herself alone. And as + she decreed, so it was done. Doubtless Her Majesty did well. + </p> + <p> + It is known that the Emperor departed to the Ancestral Spirits at an early + age, seeking, as the August Aunt observed, that repose which on earth + could never more be his. But no one has asserted that this lady’s + disposition was free from the ordinary blemishes of humanity. + </p> + <p> + As for the Celestial Empress (who survives in history as one of the most + astute rulers who ever adorned the Dragon Throne), she continued to rule + her son and the Empire, surrounded by the respectful admiration of all. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ninth Vibration And Other Stories, by +L. 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