Part 9
And having said this the godfather disappeared from his godson's sight.
The boy did as his godfather had told him. He walked eastward until he reached a forest, and there he came to a glade, and in the midst of the glade he saw a pine tree to a branch of which was tied a rope supporting a heavy log of oak. Close under this log stood a wooden trough filled with honey. Hardly had the boy had time to wonder why the honey was placed there, and why the log hung above it, when he heard a crackling in the wood, and saw some bears approaching; a she-bear, followed by a yearling and three tiny cubs. The she-bear, sniffing the air, went straight to the trough, the cubs follow ing her. She thrust her muzzle into the honey, and called the cubs to do the same. They scampered up and began to eat. As they did so, the log, which the she-bear had moved aside with her head, swung away a little and, returning,
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gave the cubs a push. Seeing this the she-bear shoved the log away with her paw. It swung further out and returned more forcibly, striking one cub on the back and another on the head. The cubs ran away howling with pain, and the mother, with a growl, caught the log in her fore paws and, raising it above her head flung it away. The log flew high in the air and the yearling, rushing to the trough, pushed his muzzle into the honey and began to suck noisily. The others also drew near, but they had not reached the trough when the log, fly ing back, struck the yearling on the head and killed him. The mother growled louder than before and, seizing the log, flung it from her with all her might. It flew higher than the branch it was tied to; so high that the rope slackened; and the she-bear returned to the trough, and the little cubs after her. The log flew higher and higher, then stopped, and began to fall. The nearer it came the faster it swung, and at last, at full speed, it crashed down on her head. The she-bear rolled over, her legs jerked and she died! The cubs ran away into the forest.
The boy watched all this in surprise, and then continued his way. Leaving the forest, he came upon a large garden in the midst of which stood a lofty palace with a golden roof. At the gate stood his godfather, smiling. He welcomed his godson, and led him through the gateway into the garden. The boy had never dreamed of such beauty and delight as surrounded him in that place.
Then his godfather led him into the palace, which was even more beauti ful inside than outside. The godfather showed the boy through all the rooms: each brighter and finer than the other, but at last they came to one door that was sealed up.
"You see this door," said he. "It is not locked, but only sealed. It can be opened, but I forbid you to open it. You may live here, and go where you please and enjoy all the delights of the place. My only command is –do not open that door! But should you ever do so, remember what you saw in the forest."
Having said this the godfather went away. The godson remained in the palace, and life there was so bright and joyful that he thought he had only been there three hours, when he had really lived there thirty years. When thirty years had gone by, the godson happened to be passing the sealed door one day, and he wondered why his godfather had forbidden him to enter that room.
"I'll just look in and see what is there," thought he, and he gave the door a
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push. The seals gave way, the door opened, and the godson entering saw a hall more lofty and beautiful than all the others, and in the midst of it a throne. He wandered about the hall for a while, and then mounted the steps and seated himself upon the throne. As he sat there he noticed a sceptre leaning against the throne, and took it in his hand. Hardly had he done so when the four walls of the hall suddenly disappeared. The godson looked around, and saw the whole world, and all that men were doing in it. He looked in front, and saw the sea with ships sailing on it. He looked to the right, and saw where strange heathen people lived. He looked to the left, and saw where men who were Christians, but not Russians, lived. He looked round, and on the fourth side, he saw Russian people, like himself.
"I will look," said he, "and see what is happening at home, and whether the harvest is good."
He looked towards his father's fields and saw the sheaves standing in stooks. He began counting them to see whether there was much corn, when he no ticed a peasant driving in a cart. It was night, and the godson thought it was his father coming to cart the corn by night. But as he looked he recognized Vasily Koudryashof, the thief, driving into the field and beginning to load the sheaves on to his cart. This made the godson angry, and he called out:
"Father, the sheaves are being stolen from our field!" His father, who was out with the horses in the night-pasture, woke up. "I dreamt the sheaves were being stolen," said he. "I will just ride down and see."
So he got on a horse and rode out to the field. Finding Vasily there, he called together other peasants to help him, and Vasily was beaten, bound, and taken to prison.
Then the godson looked at the town, where his godmother lived. He saw that she was now married to a tradesman. She lay asleep, and her husband rose and went to his mistress. The godson shouted to her:
"Get up, get up, your husband has taken to evil ways." The godmother jumped up and dressed, and finding out where her husband was, she shamed and beat his mistress, and drove him away.
Then the godson looked for his mother, and saw her lying asleep in her cottage. And a thief crept into the cottage and began to break open the chest in which she kept her things. The mother awoke and screamed, and the rob ber seizing an axe, swung it over his head to kill her.
The godson could not refrain from hurling the sceptre at the robber. It struck him upon the temple, and killed him on the spot.
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As soon as the godson had killed the robber, the walls closed and the hall became just as it had been before.
Then the door opened and the godfather entered, and coming up to his godson he took him by the hand and led him down from the throne.
"You have not obeyed my command," said he. "You did one wrong thing, when you opened the forbidden door; another, when you mounted the throne and took my sceptre into your hands; and you have now done a third wrong, which has much increased the evil in the world. Had you sat here an hour longer, you would have ruined half mankind."
Then the godfather led his godson back to the throne, and took the sceptre in his hand; and again the walls fell asunder and all things became visible. And the godfather said:
"See what you have done to your father. Vasily has now been a year in prison, and has come out having learnt every kind of wickedness, and has be come quite incorrigible. See, he has stolen two of your father's horses, and he is now setting fire to his barn. All this you have brought upon your father."
The godson saw his father's barn breaking into flames, but his godfather shut off the sight from him, and told him to look another way.
"Here is your godmother's husband," he said. "It is a year since he left his wife, and now he goes after other women. His former mistress has sunk to still lower depths. Sorrow has driven his wife to drink. That's what you have done to your godmother."
The godfather shut off this also, and showed the godson his father's house. There he saw his mother weeping for her sins, repenting, and saying:
"It would have been better had the robber killed me that night. I should not have sinned so heavily."
"That," said the godfather, "is what you have done to your mother." He shut this off also, and pointed downwards; and the godson saw two warders holding the robber in front of a prison-house.
And the godfather said: "This man had murdered ten men. He should have expiated his sins him self, but by killing him you have taken his sins on yourself. Now you must answer for all his sins. That is what you have done to yourself. The she-bear pushed the log aside once, and disturbed her cubs; she pushed it again, and killed her yearling; she pushed it a third time, and was killed herself. You have done the same. Now I give you thirty years to go into the world and atone for the robber's sins. If you do not atone for them, you will have to take his
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place."
"How am I to atone for his sins?" asked the godson. And the godfather answered: "When you have rid the world of as much evil as you have brought into it, you will have atoned both for your own sins and for those of the robber."
"How can I destroy evil in the world?" the godson asked. "Go out," replied the godfather, "and walk straight towards the rising sun. After a time you will come to a field with some men in it. Notice what they are doing, and teach them what you know. Then go on and note what you see. On the fourth day you will come to a forest. In the midst of the forest is a cell and in the cell lives a hermit. Tell him all that has happened. He will teach you what to do. When you have done all he tells you, you will have atoned for your own and the robber's sins."
And, having said this, the godfather led his godson out of the gate.
VII
The godson went his way, and as he went he thought:
"How am I to destroy evil in the world? Evil is destroyed by banishing evil men, keeping them in prison, or putting them to death. How then am I to destroy evil without taking the sins of others upon myself ?"
The godson pondered over it for a long time, but could come to no con clusion. He went on until he came to a field where corn was growing thick and good and ready for the reapers. The godson saw that a little calf had got in among the corn. Some men who were at hand saw it, and mounting their horses they chased it backwards and forwards through the corn. Each time the calf was about to come out of the corn some one rode up and the calf got frightened and turned back again, and they all galloped after it, trampling down the corn. On the road stood a woman crying.
"They will chase my calf to death," she said. And the godson said to the peasants: "What are you doing? Come out of the cornfield all of you, and let the woman call her calf."
The men did so; and the woman came to the edge of the cornfield and called to the calf. "Come along, Browney, come along," said she. The calf pricked up its ears, listened a while, and then ran towards the woman of its own accord, and hid its head in her skirts, almost knocking her over. The men were glad, the woman was glad, and so was the little calf.
The godson went on, and he thought:
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"Now I see that evil spreads evil. The more people try to drive away evil, the more the evil grows. Evil, it seems, cannot be destroyed by evil; but in what way it can be destroyed, I do not know. The calf obeyed its mistress and so all went well; but if it had not obeyed her, how could we have got it out of the field?"
The godson pondered again, but came to no conclusion, and continued his way.
VIII
He went on until he came to a village. At the furthest end he stopped and asked leave to stay the night. The woman of the house was there alone, houseclean ing, and she let him in. The godson entered, and taking his seat upon the brick oven he watched what the woman was doing. He saw her finish scrub bing the room and begin scrubbing the table. Having done this, she began wiping the table with a dirty cloth. She wiped it from side to side – but it did not come clean. The soiled cloth left streaks of dirt. Then she wiped it the other way. The first streaks disappeared, but others came in their place. Then she wiped it from one end to the other, but again the same thing happened. The soiled cloth messed the table; when one streak was wiped off another was left on. The godson watched for awhile in silence, and then said:
"What are you doing, mistress?" "Don't you see I'm cleaning up for the holiday. Only I can't manage this table, it won't come clean. I'm quite tired out."
"You should rinse your cloth," said the godson, "before you wipe the table with it."
The woman did so, and soon had the table clean. "Thank you for telling me," said she. In the morning he took leave of the woman and went on his way. After walking a good while, he came to the edge of a forest. There he saw some peasants who were making wheel-rims of bent wood. Coming nearer, the godson saw that the men were going round and round, but could not bend the wood.
He stood and looked on, and noticed that the block, to which the piece of wood was fastened, was not fixed, but as the men moved round it went round too. Then the godson said:
"What are you doing, friends?" "Why, don't you see, we are making wheel rims. We have twice steamed the wood, and are quite tired out, but the wood will not bend."
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"You should fix the block, friends," said the godson, "or else it goes round when you do."
The peasants took his advice and fixed the block, and then the work went on merrily.
The godson spent the night with them, and then went on. He walked all day and all night, and just before dawn he came upon some drovers encamped for the night, and lay down beside them. He saw that they had got all their cattle settled, and were trying to light a fire. They had taken dry twigs and lighted them, but before the twigs had time to burn up, they smothered them with damp brushwood. The brushwood hissed and the fire smouldered and went out. Then the drovers brought more dry wood, lit it, and again put on the brushwood –and again the fire went out. They struggled with it for a long time, but could not get the fire to burn. Then the godson said:
"Do not be in such a hurry to put on the brushwood. Let the dry wood burn up properly before you put any on. When the fire is well alight you can put on as much as you please."
The drovers followed his advice. They let the fire burn up fiercely before adding the brushwood, which then flared up so that they soon had a roaring fire.
The godson remained with them for a while, and then continued his way. He went on, wondering what the three things he had seen might mean; but he could not fathom them.
The godson walked the whole of that day, and in the evening came to another forest. There he found a hermit's cell, at which he knocked.
"Who is there?" asked a voice from within. "A great sinner," replied the godson. "I must atone for another's sins as well as for my own."
The hermit hearing this came out. "What sins are those that you have to bear for another?" The godson told him everything: about his godfather; about the she-bear with the cubs; about the throne in the sealed room; about the commands his godfather had given him, as well as about the peasants he had seen trampling down the corn, and the calf that ran out when its mistress called it.
"I have seen that one cannot destroy evil by evil," said he, "but I cannot understand how it is to be destroyed. Teach me how it can be done."
"Tell me," replied the hermit, "what else you have seen on your way."
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The godson told him about the woman washing the table, and the men making cart-wheels, and the drovers fighting their fire.
The hermit listened to it all, and then went back to his cell and brought out an old jagged axe.
"Come with me," said he. When they had gone some way, the hermit pointed to a tree. "Cut it down," he said. The godson felled the tree. "Now chop it into three," said the hermit. The godson chopped the tree into three pieces. Then the hermit went back to his cell, and brought out some blazing sticks.
"Burn those three logs," said he. So the godson made a fire, and burnt the three logs till only three charred stumps remained.
"Now plant them half in the ground, like this." The godson did so. "You see that river at the foot of the hill. Bring water from there in your mouth, and water these stumps. Water this stump, as you taught the woman: this one as you taught the wheelwrights: and this one, as you taught the drov ers. When all three have taken root and from these charred stumps apple trees have sprung you will know how to destroy evil in men, and will have atoned for all your sins."
Having said this, the hermit returned to his cell. The godson pondered for a long time, but could not understand what the hermit meant. Nevertheless he set to work to do as he had been told.
The godson went down to the river, filled his mouth with water, and re turning, emptied it on to one of the charred stumps. This he did again and again, and watered all three stumps. When he was hungry and quite tired out, he went to the cell to ask the old hermit for some food. He opened the door, and there upon a bench he saw the old man lying dead. The godson looked round for food, and he found some dried bread and ate a little of it. Then he took a spade and set to work to dig the hermit's grave. During the night he carried water and watered the stumps, and in the day he dug the grave. He had hardly finished the grave and was about to bury the corpse, when some people from the village came, bringing food for the old man.
The people heard that the old hermit was dead, and that he had given the
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godson his blessing, and left him in his place. So they buried the old man, gave the bread they had brought to the godson, and promising to bring him some more, they went away.
The godson remained in the old man's place. There he lived, eating the food people brought him, and doing as he had been told: carrying water from the river in his mouth and watering the charred stumps.
He lived thus for a year, and many people visited him. His fame spread abroad, as a holy man who lived in the forest and brought water from the bottom of a hill in his mouth to water charred stumps for the salvation of his soul. People flocked to see him. Rich merchants drove up bringing him presents, but he kept only the barest necessaries for himself, and gave the rest away to the poor.
And so the godson lived: carrying water in his mouth and watering the stumps half the day, and resting and receiving people the other half. And he began to think that this was the way he had been told to live, in order to destroy evil and atone for his sins.
He spent two years in this manner, not omitting for a single day to water the stumps. But still not one of them sprouted.
One day, as he sat in his cell, he heard a man ride past, singing as he went. The godson came out to see what sort of a man it was. He saw a strong young fellow, well dressed, and mounted on a handsome, well-saddled horse.
The godson stopped him, and asked him who he was, and where he was going.
"I am a robber," the man answered, drawing rein. "I ride about the high ways killing people; and the more I kill, the merrier are the songs I sing."
The godson was horror-struck, and thought: "How can the evil be destroyed in such a man as this? It is easy to speak to those who come to me of their own accord and confess their sins. But this one boasts of the evil he does."
So he said nothing, and turned away, thinking: "What am I to do now? This robber may take to riding about here, and he will frighten away the people. They will leave off coming to me. It will be a loss to them, and I shall not know how to live."
So the godson turned back, and said to the robber: "People come to me here, not to boast of their sins, but to repent, and to pray for forgiveness. Repent of your sins, if you fear God; but if there is no repentance in your heart, then go away and never come here again. Do not trouble me, and do not frighten people away from me. If you do not hearken,
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God will punish you."
The robber laughed: "I am not afraid of God, and I will not listen to you. You are not my mas ter," said he. "You live by your piety, and I by my robbery. We all must live. You may teach the old women who come to you, but you have nothing to teach me. And because you have reminded me of God, I will kill two more men tomorrow. I would kill you, but I do not want to soil my hands just now. See that in future you keep out of my way!"
Having uttered this threat, the robber rode away. He did not come again, and the godson lived in peace, as before, for eight more years.
One night the godson watered his stumps, and, after returning to his cell, he sat down to rest, and watched the footpath, wondering if some one would soon come. But no one came at all that day. He sat alone till evening, feeling lonely and dull, and he thought about his past life. He remembered how the robber had reproached him for living by his piety; and he reflected on his way of life. "I am not living as the hermit commanded me to," thought he. "The hermit laid a penance upon me, and I have made both a living and fame out of it; and have been so tempted by it, that now I feel dull when people do not come to me; and when they do come, I only rejoice because they praise my holiness. That is not how one should live. I have been led astray by love of praise. I have not atoned for my past sins, but have added fresh ones. I will go to another part of the forest where people will not find me; and I will live so as to atone for my old sins and commit no fresh ones."
Having come to this conclusion the godson filled a bag with dried bread and, taking a spade, left the cell and started for a ravine he knew of in a lonely spot, where he could dig himself a cave and hide from the people.
As he was going along with his bag and his spade he saw the robber riding towards him. The godson was frightened, and started to run away, but the robber overtook him.
"Where are you going?" asked the robber. The godson told him he wished to get away from the people and live some where where no one would come to him. This surprised the robber.
"What will you live on, if people do not come to see you?" asked he. The godson had not even thought of this, but the robber's question re minded him that food would be necessary.
"On what God pleases to give me," he replied.
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The robber said nothing, and rode away. "Why did I not say anything to him about his way of life?" thought the godson. "He might repent now. Today he seems in a gentler mood, and has not threatened to kill me." And he shouted to the robber:
"You have still to repent of your sins. You cannot escape from God." The robber turned his horse, and drawing a knife from his girdle threat ened the hermit with it. The latter was alarmed, and ran away further into the forest.
The robber did not follow him, but only shouted: "Twice I have let you off, old man, but next time you come in my way I will kill you!"
Having said this, he rode away. In the evening when the godson went to water his stumps – one of them was sprouting! A little apple tree was growing out of it.
XII
After hiding himself from everybody, the godson lived all alone. When his supply of bread was exhausted, he thought: "Now I must go and look for some roots to eat." He had not gone far, however, before he saw a bag of dried bread hanging on a branch. He took it down, and as long as it lasted he lived upon that.
When he had eaten it all, he found another bagful on the same branch. So he lived on, his only trouble being his fear of the robber. Whenever he heard the robber passing he hid thinking:
"He may kill me before I have had time to atone for my sins." In this way he lived for ten more years. The one apple tree continued to grow, but the other two stumps remained exactly as they were.
One morning the godson rose early and went to his work. By the time he had thoroughly moistened the ground round the stumps, he was tired out and sat down to rest. As he sat there he thought to himself:
"I have sinned, and have become afraid of death. It may be God's will that I should redeem my sins by death."
Hardly had this thought crossed his mind when he heard the robber riding up, swearing at something. When the godson heard this, he thought:
"No evil and no good can befall me from anyone but from God." And he went to meet the robber. He saw the robber was not alone, but behind him on the saddle sat another man, gagged, and bound hand and foot. The man was doing nothing, but the robber was abusing him violently. The
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godson went up and stood in front of the horse.
"Where are you taking this man?" he asked. "Into the forest," replied the robber. "He is a merchant's son, and will not tell me where his father's money is hidden. I am going to flog him till he tells me."
And the robber spurred on his horse, but the godson caught hold of his bridle, and would not let him pass.
"Let this man go!" he said. The robber grew angry, and raised his arm to strike. "Would you like a taste of what I am going to give this man? Have I not promised to kill you? Let go!"
The godson was not afraid. "You shall not go," said he. "I do not fear you. I fear no one but God, and He wills that I should not let you pass. Set this man free!"
The robber frowned, and snatching out his knife, cut the ropes with which the merchant's son was bound, and set him free.
"Get away both of you," he said, "and beware the hour you cross my path again."
The merchant's son jumped down and ran away. The robber was about to ride on, but the godson stopped him again, and again spoke to him about giving up his evil life. The robber heard him to the end in silence, and then rode away without a word.
The next morning the godson went to water his stumps and lo! the second stump was sprouting. A second young apple tree had begun to grow.
XIII
Another ten years had gone by. The godson was sitting quietly one day, desiring nothing, fearing nothing, and with a heart full of joy.
"What blessings God showers on men!" thought he. "Yet how needlessly they torment themselves. What prevents them from living happily?"
And remembering all the evil in men, and the troubles they bring upon themselves, his heart filled with pity.
"It is wrong of me to live as I do," he said to himself. "I must go and teach others what I have myself learnt."
Hardly had he thought this, when he heard the robber approaching. He let him pass, thinking:
"It is no good talking to him, he will not understand." That was his first thought, but he changed his mind and went out into the
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road. He saw that the robber was gloomy, and was riding with downcast eyes. The godson looked at him, pitied him, and running up to him laid his hand upon his knee.
"Brother, dear," said he, "have some pity on your own soul! In you lives the spirit of God. You suffer, and torment others, and lay up more and more suffering for the future. Yet God loves you, and has prepared such blessings for you. Do not ruin yourself utterly. Change your life!"
The robber frowned and turned away. "Leave me alone!" said he. But the godson held the robber still faster, and began to weep. Then the robber lifted his eyes and looked at the godson. He looked at him for a long time, and alighting from his horse, fell on his knees at the godson's feet.
"You have overcome me, old man," said he. "For twenty years I have re sisted you, but now you have conquered me. Do what you will with me, for I have no more power over myself. When you first tried to persuade me, it only angered me more. Only when you hid yourself from men did I begin to con sider your words: for I saw then that you asked nothing of them for yourself. Since that day I have brought food for you, hanging it upon the tree."
Then the godson remembered that the woman got her table clean only after she had rinsed her cloth. In the same way, it was only when he ceased caring about himself, and cleansed his own heart, that he was able to cleanse the hearts of others.
The robber went on. "When I saw that you did not fear death, my heart turned." Then the godson remembered that the wheelwrights could not bend the rims until they had fixed their block. So, not till he had cast away the fear of death and made his life fast in God, could he subdue this man's unruly heart.
"But my heart did not quite melt," continued the robber, "until you pitied me and wept for me."
The godson, full of joy, led the robber to the place where the stumps were. And when they got there, they saw that from the third stump an apple tree had begun to sprout. And the godson remembered that the drovers had not been able to light the damp wood until the fire had burnt up well. So it was only when his own heart burnt warmly, that another's heart had been kindled by it.
And the godson was full of joy that he had at last atoned for his sins.
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He told all this to the robber, and died. The robber buried him, and lived as the godson had commanded him, teaching to others what the godson had taught him.
The Repentant Sinner
And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy Kingdom. And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, today shalt thou be with me in paradise.
–Luke xxiii. , There was once a man who lived for seventy years in the world, and lived in sin all that time. He fell ill but even then did not repent. Only at the last moment, as he was dying, he wept and said:
"Lord! forgive me, as Thou forgavest the thief upon the cross." And as he said these words, his soul left his body. And the soul of the sin ner, feeling love towards God and faith in His mercy, went to the gates of heaven and knocked, praying to be let into the heavenly kingdom.
Then a voice spoke from within the gate: "What man is it that knocks at the gates of Paradise and what deeds did he do during his life?"
And the voice of the Accuser replied, recounting all the man's evil deeds, and not a single good one.
And the voice from within the gates answered: "Sinners cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. Go hence!" Then the man said: "Lord, I hear thy voice, but cannot see thy face, nor do I know thy name."
The voice answered: "I am Peter, the Apostle." And the sinner replied: "Have pity on me, Apostle Peter! Remember man's weakness, and God's mercy. Wert not thou a disciple of Christ? Didst not thou hear his teaching from his own lips, and hadst thou not his example before thee? Remember then how, when he sorrowed and was grieved in spirit, and three times
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asked thee to keep awake and pray, thou didst sleep, because thine eyes were heavy, and three times he found thee sleeping. So it was with me. Remember, also, how thou didst promise to be faithful unto death, and yet didst thrice deny him, when he was taken before Caiaphas. So it was with me. And re member, too, how when the cock crowed thou didst go out and didst weep bitterly. So it is with me. Thou canst not refuse to let me in."
And the voice behind the gates was silent. Then the sinner stood a little while, and again began to knock, and to ask to be let into the kingdom of heaven.
And he heard another voice behind the gates, which said: "Who is this man, and how did he live on earth?" And the voice of the Accuser again repeated all the sinner's evil deeds, and not a single good one.
And the voice from behind the gates replied: "Go hence! Such sinners cannot live with us in Paradise." Then the sinner said:
"Lord, I hear thy voice, but I see thee not, nor do I know thy name." And the voice answered: "I am David: king and prophet." The sinner did not despair, nor did he leave the gates of Paradise, but said:
"Have pity on me, King David! Remember man's weakness, and God's mercy. God loved thee and exalted thee among men. Thou hadst all: a king dom, and honor, and riches, and wives, and children; but thou sawest from thy housetop the wife of a poor man, and sin entered into thee, and thou tookest the wife of Uriah, and didst slay him with the sword of the Ammo nites. Thou, a rich man, didst take from the poor man his one ewe lamb, and didst kill him. I have done likewise. Remember, then, how thou didst repent, and how thou saidst, 'I acknowledge my transgressions: my sin is ever before me.' I have done the same. Thou canst not refuse to let me in."
And the voice from within the gates was silent. The sinner having stood a little while, began knocking again, and asking to be let into the kingdom of heaven. And a third voice was heard within the gates, saying:
"Who is this man, and how has he spent his life on earth?" And the voice of the Accuser replied for the third time, recounting the sinner's evil deeds, and not mentioning one good deed.
And the voice within the gates said:
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"Depart hence! Sinners cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven." And the sinner said: "Thy voice I hear, but thy face I see not, neither do I know thy name." Then the voice replied: "I am John the Divine, the beloved disciple of Christ." And the sinner rejoiced and said: "Now surely I shall be allowed to enter. Peter and David must let me in, because they know man's weakness and God's mercy; and thou wilt let me in, because thou lovest much. Was it not thou, John the Divine who wrote that God is Love, and that he who loves not, knows not God? And in thine old age didst thou not say unto men: 'Brethren, love one another.' How, then, canst thou look on me with hatred, and drive me away? Either thou must renounce what thou hast said, or loving me, must let me enter the kingdom of heaven."
And the gates of Paradise opened, and John embraced the repentant sinner and took him into the kingdom of heaven.
The Empty Drum
A Folktale Long Current in the Region of the Volga
Emelyan was a laborer and worked for a master. Crossing the meadows one day on his way to work, he nearly trod on a frog that jumped right in front of him, but he just managed to avoid it. Suddenly he heard some one calling to him from behind.
Emelyan looked round and saw a lovely lassie, who said to him: "Why don't you get married, Emelyan?"
"How can I marry, my lass?" said he. "I have but the clothes I stand up in, nothing more, and no one would have me for a husband."
"Take me for a wife," said she. Emelyan liked the maid. "I should be glad to," said he, "but where and how could we live?"
"Why trouble about that?" said the girl. "One only has to work more and sleep less, and one can clothe and feed oneself anywhere."
"Very well then, let us marry," said Emelyan. "Where shall we go to?" "Let us go to town." So Emelyan and the lass went to town, and she took him to a small hut on the very edge of the town, and they married and began housekeeping.
One day the King, driving through the town, passed by Emelyan's hut. Emelyan's wife came out to see the King. The King noticed her and was quite surprised.
"Where did such a beauty come from?" said he and stopping his carriage he called Emelyan's wife and asked her: "Who are you?"
"The peasant Emelyan's wife," said she. "Why did you, who are such a beauty, marry a peasant?" said the King. "You ought to be a queen!"
"Thank you for your kind words," said she, "but a peasant husband is good
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enough for me."
The King talked to her awhile and then drove on. He returned to the palace, but could not get Emelyan's wife out of his head. All night he did not sleep, but kept thinking how to get her for himself. He could think of no way of doing it, so he called his servants and told them they must find a way.
The King's servants said: "Command Emelyan to come to the palace to work, and we will work him so hard that he will die. His wife will be left a widow, and then you can take her for yourself."
The King followed their advice. He sent an order that Emelyan should come to the palace as a workman and that he should live at the palace, and his wife with him.
The messengers came to Emelyan and gave him the King's message. His wife said, "Go, Emelyan; work all day, but come back home at night."
So Emelyan went, and when he got to the palace the King's steward asked him, "Why have you come alone, without your wife?"
"Why should I drag her about?" said Emelyan. "She has a house to live in."
At the King's palace they gave Emelyan work enough for two. He began the job not hoping to finish it; but when evening came, lo and behold! it was all done. The steward saw that it was finished, and set him four times as much for next day.
Emelyan went home. Everything there was swept and tidy; the oven was heated, his supper was cooked and ready, and his wife sat by the table sewing and waiting for his return. She greeted him, laid the table, gave him to eat and drink, and then began to ask him about his work.
"Ah!" said he, "it's a bad business: they give me tasks beyond my strength, and want to kill me with work."
"Don't fret about the work," said she, "don't look either before or behind to see how much you have done or how much there is left to do; only keep on working and all will be right."
So Emelyan lay down and slept. Next morning he went to work again and worked without once looking round. And, lo and behold! by the evening it was all done, and before dark he came home for the night.
Again and again they increased Emelyan's work, but he always got through it in good time and went back to his hut to sleep. A week passed, and the King's servants saw they could not crush him with rough work so they tried giving him work that required skill. But this, also, was of no avail. Carpenter ing, and masonry, and roofing, whatever they set him to do, Emelyan had it
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ready in time, and went home to his wife at night. So a second week passed.
Then the King called his servants and said: "Am I to feed you for nothing? Two weeks have gone, and I don't see that you have done anything. You were going to tire Emelyan out with work, but I see from my windows how he goes home every evening – singing cheerfully! Do you mean to make a fool of me?"
The King's servants began to excuse themselves. "We tried our best to wear him out with rough work," they said, "but nothing was too hard for him; he cleared it all off as though he had swept it away with a broom. There was no tiring him out. Then we set him to tasks needing skill, which we did not think he was clever enough to do, but he managed them all. No matter what one sets him, he does it all, no one knows how. Either he or his wife must know some spell that helps them. We ourselves are sick of him, and wish to find a task he cannot master. We have now thought of setting him to build a cathe dral in a single day. Send for Emelyan, and order him to build a cathedral in front of the palace in a single day. Then, if he does not do it, let his head be cut off for disobedience."
The King sent for Emelyan. "Listen to my command," said he: "build me a new cathedral on the square in front of my palace, and have it ready by to morrow evening. If you have it ready I will reward you, but if not I will have your head cut off."
When Emelyan heard the King's command he turned away and went home. "My end is near," thought he. And coming to his wife, he said: "Get ready, wife we must fly from here, or I shall be lost by no fault of my own."
"What has frightened you so?" said she, "and why should we run away?" "How can I help being frightened? The King has ordered me, tomorrow, in a single day, to build him a cathedral. If I fail he will cut my head off. There is only one thing to be done: we must fly while there is yet time."
But his wife would not hear of it. "The King has many soldiers," said she. "They would catch us anywhere. We cannot escape from him, but must obey him as long as strength holds out."
"How can I obey him when the task is beyond my strength?" "Eh, goodman, don't be downhearted. Eat your supper now, and go to sleep. Rise early in the morning and all will get done."
So Emelyan lay down and slept. His wife roused him early next day. "Go quickly," said she, "and finish the cathedral. Here are nails and a hammer; there is still enough work there for a day."
Emelyan went into the town, reached the palace square, and there stood
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a large cathedral not quite finished. Emelyan set to work to do what was needed, and by the evening all was ready.
When the King awoke he looked out from his palace, and saw the cathe dral, and Emelyan going about driving in nails here and there. And the King was not pleased to have the cathedral –he was annoyed at not being able to condemn Emelyan and take his wife. Again he called his servants. "Emelyan has done this task also," said the King, "and there is no excuse for putting him to death. Even this work was not too hard for him. You must find a more cunning plan, or I will cut off your heads as well as his."
So his servants planned that Emelyan should be ordered to make a river round the palace, with ships sailing on it. And the King sent for Emelyan and set him this new task.
"If," said he, "you could build a cathedral in one night, you can also do this. Tomorrow all must be ready. If not, I will have your head off."
Emelyan was more downcast than before, and returned to his wife sad at heart.
"Why are you so sad?" said his wife. "Has the King set you a fresh task?" Emelyan told her about it. "We must fly," said he. But his wife replied: "There is no escaping the soldiers; they will catch us wherever we go. There is nothing for it but to obey."
"How can I do it?" groaned Emelyan. "Eh! eh! goodman," said she, "don't be downhearted. Eat your supper now, and go to sleep. Rise early, and all will get done in good time."
So Emelyan lay down and slept. In the morning his wife woke him. "Go," said she "to the palace – all is ready. Only, near the wharf in front of the palace, there is a mound left; take a spade and level it."
When the King awoke he saw a river where there had not been one; ships were sailing up and down, and Emelyan was levelling a mound with a spade. The King wondered, but was pleased neither with the river nor with the ships, so vexed was he at not being able to condemn Emelyan. "There is no task," thought he, "that he cannot manage. What is to be done?" And he called his servants and again asked their advice.
"Find some task," said he, "which Emelyan cannot compass. For whatever we plan he fulfills, and I cannot take his wife from him."
The King's servants thought and thought, and at last devised a plan. They came to the King and said: "Send for Emelyan and say to him: 'Go to there, don't know where,' and bring back 'that, don't know what.' Then he will not be able to escape you. No matter where he goes, you can say that he has not
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gone to the right place, and no matter what he brings, you can say it is not the right thing. Then you can have him beheaded and can take his wife."
The King was pleased. "That is well thought of," said he. So the King sent for Emelyan and said to him: "Go to 'there, don't know where,' and bring back 'that, don't know what.' If you fail to bring it, I will have you beheaded."
Emelyan returned to his wife and told her what the King had said. His wife became thoughtful.
"Well," said she, "they have taught the King how to catch you. Now we must act warily." So she sat and thought, and at last said to her husband: "You must go far, to our Grandam –the old peasant woman, the mother of soldiers–and you must ask her aid. If she helps you to anything, go straight to the palace with it, I shall be there: I cannot escape them now. They will take me by force, but it will not be for long. If you do everything as Grandam directs, you will soon save me."
So the wife got her husband ready for the journey. She gave him a wallet, and also a spindle. "Give her this," said she. "By this token she will know that you are my husband." And his wife showed him his road.
Emelyan set off. He left the town behind, and came to where some soldiers were being drilled. Emelyan stood and watched them. After drill the soldiers sat down to rest. Then Emelyan went up to them and asked: "Do you know, brothers, the way to 'there, don't know where,' and how I can get 'that, don't know what'?"
The soldiers listened to him with surprise. "Who sent you on this errand?" said they
"The King," said he. "From the day we became soldiers," said they, "we go 'don't know where,' and never yet have we got there; and we seek 'don't know what,' and cannot find it. We cannot help you."
Emelyan sat a while with the soldiers and then went on again. He trudged many a mile, and at last came to a wood. In the wood was a hut, and in the hut sat an old, old woman, the mother of peasant soldiers, spinning flax and weep ing. And as she spun she did not put her fingers to her mouth to wet them with spittle, but to her eyes to wet them with tears. When the old woman saw Emelyan she cried out at him: "Why have you come here?" Then Emelyan gave her the spindle, and said his wife had sent it.
The old woman softened at once, and began to question him. And Eme lyan told her his whole life: how he married the lass; how they went to live in the town; how he had worked, and what he had done at the palace; how
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he built the cathedral, and made a river with ships on it, and how the King had now told him to go to "there, don't know where," and bring back "that, don't know what."
The Grandam listened to the end, and ceased weeping. She muttered to herself: "The time has surely come," and said to him: "All right, my lad. Sit down now, and I will give you something to eat."
Emelyan ate, and then the Grandam told him what to do. "Here," said she, "is a ball of thread; roll it before you, and follow where it goes. You must go far till you come right to the sea. When you get there you will see a great city. Enter the city and ask for a night's lodging at the furthest house. There look out for what you are seeking."
"How shall I know it when I see it, Granny?" said he. "When you see something men obey more than father or mother, that is it. Seize that, and take it to the King. When you bring it to the King, he will say it is not right, and you must answer: 'If it is not the right thing it must be smashed,' and you must beat it, and carry it to the river, break it in pieces, and throw it into the water. Then you will get your wife back and my tears will be dried."
Emelyan bade farewell to the Grandam and began rolling his ball before him. It rolled and rolled until at last it reached the sea. By the sea stood a great city, and at the further end of the city was a big house. There Emelyan begged for a night's lodging, and was granted it. He lay down to sleep, and in the morning awoke and heard a father rousing his son to go and cut wood for the fire. But the son did not obey. "It is too early," said he, "there is time enough." Then Emelyan heard the mother say, "Go, my son, your father's bones ache; would you have him go himself? It is time to be up!"
But the son only murmured some words and fell asleep again. Hardly was he asleep when something thundered and rattled in the street. Up jumped the son and quickly putting on his clothes ran out into the street. Up jumped Emelyan, too, and ran after him to see what it was that a son obeys more than father or mother. What he saw was a man walking along the street carrying, tied to his stomach, a thing which he beat with sticks, and that it was that rattled and thundered so, and that the son had obeyed. Emelyan ran up and had a look at it. He saw it was round, like a small tub, with a skin stretched over both ends, and he asked what it was called.
He was told, "A drum." "And is it empty?" "Yes, it is empty."
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Emelyan was surprised. He asked them to give the thing to him, but they would not. So Emelyan left off asking, and followed the drummer. All day he followed, and when the drummer at last lay down to sleep, Emelyan snatched the drum from him and ran away with it.
He ran and ran, till at last he got back to his own town. He went to see his wife, but she was not at home. The day after he went away, the King had taken her. So Emelyan went to the palace, and sent in a message to the King: "He has returned who went to 'there, don't know where,' and he has brought with him 'that, don't know what.'"
They told the King, and the King said he was to come again next day. But Emelyan said, "Tell the King I am here today, and have brought what the King wanted. Let him come out to me, or I will go in to him!"
The King came out. "Where have you been?" said he. Emelyan told him. "That's not the right place," said the King. "What have you brought?" Emelyan pointed to the drum, but the King did not look at it. "That is not it." "If it is not the right thing," said Emelyan, "it must be smashed, and may the devil take it!"
And Emelyan left the palace, carrying the drum and beating it. And as he beat it all the King's army ran out to follow Emelyan, and they saluted him and waited his commands.
The King, from his window, began to shout at his army telling them not to follow Emelyan. They did not listen to what he said, but all followed Emelyan.
When the King saw that, he gave orders that Emelyan's wife should be taken back to him, and he sent to ask Emelyan to give him the drum.
"It can't be done," said Emelyan. "I was told to smash it and to throw the splinters into the river."
So Emelyan went down to the river carrying the drum, and the soldiers followed him. When he reached the river bank Emelyan smashed the drum to splinters, and threw the splinters into the stream. And then all the soldiers ran away.
Emelyan took his wife and went home with her. And after that the King ceased to trouble him; and so they lived happily ever after.
part v i
Ad ap tati o ns f rom t he
Fre nc h
9
The Coffeehouse of Surat
After Bernardin De Saint-Pierre
In the town of Surat, in India, was a coffeehouse where many travellers and foreigners from all parts of the world met and conversed.
One day a learned Persian theologian visited this coffeehouse. He was a man who had spent his life studying the nature of the Deity, and reading and writing books upon the subject. He had thought, read, and written so much about God, that eventually he lost his wits, became quite confused, and ceased even to believe in the existence of a God. The Shah, hearing of this, had ban ished him from Persia.
After having argued all his life about the First Cause, this unfortunate theo logian had ended by quite perplexing himself, and instead of understanding that he had lost his own reason, he began to think that there was no higher Reason controlling the universe.
This man had an African slave who followed him everywhere. When the theologian entered the coffeehouse, the slave remained outside, near the door sitting on a stone in the glare of the sun, and driving away the flies that buzzed around him. The Persian having settled down on a divan in the coffeehouse, ordered himself a cup of opium. When he had drunk it and the opium had begun to quicken the workings of his brain, he addressed his slave through the open door:
"Tell me, wretched slave," said he, "do you think there is a God, or not?" "Of course there is," said the slave, and immediately drew from under his girdle a small idol of wood.
"There," said he, "that is the God who has guarded me from the day of my birth. Every one in our country worships the fetish tree, from the wood of which this God was made."
This conversation between the theologian and his slave was listened to with
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surprise by the other guests in the coffeehouse. They were astonished at the master's question, and yet more so at the slave's reply.
One of them, a Brahmin, on hearing the words spoken by the slave, turned to him and said:
"Miserable fool! Is it possible you believe that God can be carried under a man's girdle? There is one God – Brahma, and he is greater than the whole world, for he created it. Brahma is the One, the mighty God, and in His honor are built the temples on the Ganges' banks, where his true priests, the Brahmins, worship him. They know the true God, and none but they. A thousand score of years have passed, and yet through revolution after revolu tion these priests have held their sway, because Brahma, the one true God, has protected them."
So spoke the Brahmin, thinking to convince every one; but a Jewish broker who was present replied to him, and said:
"No! the temple of the true God is not in India. Neither does God protect the Brahmin caste. The true God is not the God of the Brahmins, but of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. None does He protect but His chosen people, the Israelites. From the commencement of the world, our nation has been beloved of Him, and ours alone. If we are now scattered over the whole earth it is but to try us; for God has promised that He will one day gather His people together in Jerusalem. Then, with the Temple of Jerusalem –the wonder of the ancient world –restored to its splendor, shall Israel be established a ruler over all nations."
So spoke the Jew, and burst into tears. He wished to say more, but an Ital ian missionary who was there interrupted him.
"What you are saying is untrue," said he to the Jew. "You attribute injustice to God. He cannot love your nation above the rest. Nay rather, even if it be true that of old He favored the Israelites, it is now nineteen hundred years since they angered Him, and caused Him to destroy their nation and scatter them over the earth, so that their faith makes no converts and has died out except here and there. God shows preference to no nation, but calls all who wish to be saved to the bosom of the Catholic Church of Rome, the one out side whose borders no salvation can be found."
So spoke the Italian. But a Protestant minister who happened to be present, growing pale, turned to the Catholic missionary and exclaimed:
"How can you say that salvation belongs to your religion? Those only will be saved, who serve God according to the Gospel, in spirit and in truth, as bidden by the word of Christ."
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Then a Turk, an officeholder in the customhouse at Surat, who was sitting in the coffeehouse smoking a pipe, turned with an air of superiority to both the Christians.
"Your belief in your Roman religion is vain," said he. "It was superseded twelve hundred years ago by the true faith: that of Mohammed! You cannot but observe how the true Mohammedan faith continues to spread both in Europe and Asia, and even in the enlightened country of China. You say yourselves that God has rejected the Jews; and, as a proof, you quote the fact that the Jews are humiliated and their faith does not spread. Confess then the truth of Mohammedanism, for it is triumphant and spreads far and wide. None will be saved but the followers of Mohammed, God's latest prophet; and of them, only the followers of Omar, and not of Ali, for the latter are false to the faith."
To this the Persian theologian, who was of the sect of Ali, wished to reply; but by this time a great dispute had arisen among all the strang ers of different faiths and creeds present. There were Abyssinian Chris tians, Lamas from Tibet, Ismailians and Fire-worshippers. They all argued about the nature of God, and how He should be worshipped. Each of them asserted that in his country alone was the true God known and rightly worshipped.
Every one argued and shouted, except a Chinaman, a student of Con fucius, who sat quietly in one corner of the coffeehouse, not joining in the dispute. He sat there drinking tea and listening to what the others said, but did not speak himself.
The Turk noticed him sitting there, and appealed to him, saying: "You can confirm what I say, my good Chinaman. You hold your peace, but if you spoke I know you would uphold my opinion. Traders from your country, who come to me for assistance, tell me that though many religions have been introduced into China, you Chinese consider Mohammedanism the best of all, and adopt it willingly. Confirm, then, my words, and tell us your opinion of the true God and of His prophet."
"Yes, yes," said the rest, turning to the Chinaman, "let us hear what you think on the subject."
The Chinaman, the student of Confucius, closed his eyes, and thought a while. Then he opened them again, and drawing his hands out of the wide sleeves of his garment, and folding them on his breast, he spoke as follows, in a calm and quiet voice.
Sirs, it seems to me that it is chiefly pride that prevents men agreeing with
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one another on matters of faith. If you care to listen to me, I will tell you a story which will explain this by an example.
I came here from China on an English steamer which had been round the world. We stopped for fresh water, and landed on the east coast of the island of Sumatra. It was midday, and some of us, having landed, sat in the shade of some coconut palms by the seashore, not far from a native village. We were a party of men of different nationalities.
As we sat there, a blind man approached us. We learnt afterwards that he had gone blind from gazing too long and too persistently at the sun, trying to find out what it is, in order to seize its light.
He strove a long time to accomplish this, constantly looking at the sun; but the only result was that his eyes were injured by its brightness, and he became blind.
Then he said to himself: "The light of the sun is not a liquid; for if it were a liquid it would be possible to pour it from one vessel into another, and it would be moved, like water, by the wind. Neither is it fire; for if it were fire, water would ex tinguish it. Neither is light a spirit, for it is seen by the eye, nor is it matter, for it cannot be moved. Therefore, as the light of the sun is neither liquid, nor fire, nor spirit, nor matter, it is – nothing!"
So he argued, and, as a result of always looking at the sun and always thinking about it, he lost both his sight and his reason. And when he went quite blind, he became fully convinced that the sun did not exist.
With this blind man came a slave, who after placing his master in the shade of a coconut tree, picked up a coconut from the ground, and began making it into a night-light. He twisted a wick from the fibre of the coco nut: squeezed oil from the nut into the shell, and soaked the wick in it.
As the slave sat doing this, the blind man sighed and said to him: "Well, slave, was I not right when I told you there is no sun? Do you not see how dark it is? Yet people say there is a sun…But if so, what is it?"
"I do not know what the sun is," said the slave "That is no business of mine. But I know what light is. Here, I have made a night-light, by the help of which I can serve you and find anything I want in the hut."
And the slave picked up the coconut shell, saying: "This is my sun." A lame man with crutches, who was sitting near by heard these words, and laughed:
"You have evidently been blind all your life," said he to the blind man, "not to know what the sun is, I will tell you what it is. The sun is a ball of fire, which rises every morning out of the sea and goes down again among the mountains of our island each evening. We have all seen this, and if you
T he C of f ee hou se o f Sur at 249
had had your eyesight you too would have seen it."
A fisherman, who had been listening to the conversation, said: "It is plain enough that you have never been beyond your own island. If you were not lame, and if you had been out as I have in a fishing boat, you would know that the sun does not set among the mountains of our island, but as it rises from the ocean every morning so it sets again in the sea every night. What I am telling you is true, for I see it every day with my own eyes."
Then an Indian who was of our party, interrupted him by saying: "I am astonished that a reasonable man should talk such nonsense. How can a ball of fire possibly descend into the water and not be extinguished? The sun is not a ball of fire at all, it is the Deity named Deva who rides for ever in a chariot round the golden mountain, Meru. Sometimes the evil serpents Ragu and Ketu attack Deva and swallow him: and then the earth is dark. But our priests pray that the Deity may be released, and then he is set free. Only such ignorant men as you, who have never been beyond their own island, can imagine that the sun shines for their country alone."
Then the master of an Egyptian vessel, who was present, spoke in his turn.
"No," said he, "you also are wrong. The sun is not a Deity, and does not move only round India and its golden mountain. I have sailed much on the Black Sea, and along the coasts of Arabia, and have been to Madagascar and to the Philippines. The sun lights the whole earth, and not India alone. It does not circle round one mountain, but rises far in the east, beyond the Isles of Japan, and sets far, far away in the west, beyond the islands of Eng land. That is why the Japanese call their country 'Nippon,' that is 'the birth of the sun.' I know this well, for I have myself seen much, and heard more from my grandfather, who sailed to the very ends of the sea."
He would have gone on, but an English sailor from our ship interrupted him.
"There is no country," he said, "where people know so much about the sun's movements as in England. The sun, as every one in England knows, rises nowhere and sets nowhere. It is always moving round the earth. We can be sure of this for we have just been round the world ourselves, and nowhere knocked up against the sun. Wherever we went, the sun showed itself in the morning and hid itself at night, just as it does here."