Fifty-One Tales

  A LOSING GAME

  Once in a tavern Man met face to skull with Death. Man enteredgaily but Death gave no greeting, he sat with his jowl morosely overan ominous wine.

  "Come, come," said Man, "we have been antagonists long, and if Iwere losing yet I should not be surly."

  But Death remained unfriendly watching his bowl of wine and gaveno word in answer.

  Then Man solicitously moved nearer to him and, speaking cheerilystill, "Come, come," he said again, "you must not resent defeat."

  And still Death was gloomy and cross and sipped at his infamouswine and would not look up at Man and would not be companionable.

  But Man hated gloom either in beast or god, and it made himunhappy to see his adversary's discomfort, all the more because hewas the cause, and still he tried to cheer him.

  "Have you not slain the Dinatherium?" he said. "Have you not put outthe Moon? Why! you will beat me yet."

  And with a dry and barking sound Death wept and nothing said; andpresently Man arose and went wondering away; for he knew not ifDeath wept out of pity for his opponent, or because he knew that heshould not have such sport again when the old game was over andMan was gone, or whether because perhaps, for some hidden reason,he could never repeat on Earth his triumph over the Moon.

  TAKING UP PICADILLY

  Going down Picadilly one day and nearing Grosvenor Place I saw,if my memory is not at fault, some workmen with their coats off--orso they seemed. They had pickaxes in their hands and wore corduroytrousers and that little leather band below the knee that goes by theastonishing name of "York-to-London."

  They seemed to be working with peculiar vehemence, so that Istopped and asked one what they were doing.

  "We are taking up Picadilly," he said to me.

  "But at this time of year?" I said. "Is it usual in June?"

  "We are not what we seem," said he.

  "Oh, I see," I said, "you are doing it for a joke."

  "Well, not exactly that," he answered me.

  "For a bet?" I said.

  "Not precisely," said he.

  And then I looked at the bit that they had already picked, andthough it was broad daylight over my head it was darkness downthere, all full of the southern stars.

  "It was noisy and bad and we grew aweary of it," said he that worecorduroy trousers. "We are not what we appear."

  They were taking up Picadilly altogether.

  AFTER THE FIRE

  When that happened which had been so long in happening and theworld hit a black, uncharted star, certain tremendous creatures outof some other world came peering among the cinders to see if therewere anything there that it were worth while to remember. Theyspoke of the great things that the world was known to have had;they mentioned the mammoth. And presently they saw man's temples,silent and windowless, staring like empty skulls.

  "Some great thing has been here," one said, "in these huge places.""It was the mammoth," said one. "Something greater than he," saidanother.

  And then they found that the greatest thing in the world had beenthe dreams of man.

  THE CITY

  In time as well as space my fancy roams far from here. It led meonce to the edge of certain cliffs that were low and red and roseup out of a desert: a little way off in the desert there was a city. Itwas evening, and I sat and watched the city.

  Presently I saw men by threes and fours come softly stealing outof that city's gate to the number of about twenty. I heard the humof men's voices speaking at evening.

  "It is well they are gone," they said. "It is well they are gone. Wecan do business now. It is well they are gone." And the men thathad left the city sped away over the sand and so passed into thetwilight.

  "Who are these men?" I said to my glittering leader.

  "The poets," my fancy answered. "The poets and artists."

  "Why do they steal away?" I said to him. "And why are the peopleglad that they have gone?"

  He said: "It must be some doom that is going to fall on the city,something has warned them and they have stolen away. Nothingmay warn the people."

  I heard the wrangling voices, glad with commerce, rise up fromthe city. And then I also departed, for there was an ominous lookon the face of the sky.

  And only a thousand years later I passed that way, and there wasnothing, even among the weeds, of what had been that city.

  THE FOOD OF DEATH

  Death was sick. But they brought him bread that the modern bakersmake, whitened with alum, and the tinned meats of Chicago, with apinch of our modern substitute for salt. They carried him into thedining-room of a great hotel (in that close atmosphere Death breathedmore freely), and there they gave him their cheap Indian tea. Theybrought him a bottle of wine that they called champagne. Deathdrank it up. They brought a newspaper and looked up the patentmedicines; they gave him the foods that it recommended for invalids,and a little medicine as prescribed in the paper. They gave him somemilk and borax, such as children drink in England.

  Death arose ravening, strong, and strode again through the cities.

  THE LONELY IDOL

  I had from a friend an old outlandish stone, a little swine-faced idolto whom no one prayed.

  And when I saw his melancholy case as he sat cross-legged atreceipt of prayer, holding a little scourge that the years had broken(and no one heeded the scourge and no one prayed and no onecame with squealing sacrifice; and he had been a god), then I tookpity on the little forgotten thing and prayed to it as perhaps they prayedlong since, before the coming of the strange dark ships, and humbledmyself and said:

  "O idol, idol of the hard pale stone, invincible to the years, Oscourge-holder, give ear for behold I pray.

  "O little pale-green image whose wanderings are from far, knowthou that here in Europe and in other lands near by, too soon therepass from us the sweets and song and the lion strength of youth:too soon do their cheeks fade, their hair grow grey and our beloveddie; too brittle is beauty, too far off is fame and the years are gatheredtoo soon; there are leaves, leaves falling, everywhere falling; there isautumn among men, autumn and reaping; failure there is, struggle,dying and weeping, and all that is beautiful hath not remained but iseven as the glory of morning upon the water.

  "Even our memories are gathered too with the sound of the ancientvoices, the pleasant ancient voices that come to our ears no more;the very gardens of our childhood fade, and there dims with the speedof the years even the mind's own eye.

  "O be not any more the friend of Time, for the silent hurry of hismalevolent feet have trodden down what's fairest; I almost hear thewhimper of the years running behind him hound-like, and it takes fewto tear us.

  "All that is beautiful he crushes down as a big man tramples daises,all that is fairest. How very fair are the little children of men. It isautumn with all the world, and the stars weep to see it.

  "Therefore no longer be the friend of Time, who will not let us be,and be not good to him but pity us, and let lovely things live on forthe sake of our tears."

  Thus prayed I out of compassion one windy day to the snout-facedidol to whom no one kneeled.

  THE SPHINX IN THEBES (MASSACHUSETTS)

  There was a woman in a steel-built city who had all that moneycould buy, she had gold and dividends and trains and houses, andshe had pets to play with, but she had no sphinx.

  So she besought them to bring her a live sphinx; and therefore theywent to the menageries, and then to the forests and the desert places,and yet could find no sphinx.

  And she would have been content with a little lion but that one wasalready owned by a woman she knew; so they had to search theworld again for a sphinx.

  And still there was none.

  But they were not men that it is easy to baffle, and at last they founda sphinx in a desert at evening watching a ruined temple whose godsshe had eaten hundreds of years ago when her hunger was on her.And they cast chains on her, who was still with an ominous stillness,and took her westwards with them and brought her home.

/>   And so the sphinx came to the steel-built city.

  And the woman was very glad that she owned a sphinx: but thesphinx stared long into her eyes one day, and softly asked a riddleof the woman.

  And the woman could not answer, and she died.

  And the sphinx is silent again and none knows what she will do.

  THE REWARD

  One's spirit goes further in dreams than it does by day. Wanderingonce by night from a factory city I came to the edge of Hell.

  The place was foul with cinders and cast-off things, and jagged,half-buried things with shapeless edges, and there was a huge angelwith a hammer building in plaster and steel. I wondered what he didin that dreadful place. I hesitated, then asked him what he wasbuilding. "We are adding to Hell," he said, "to keep pace with thetimes." "Don't be too hard on them," I said, for I had just come outof a compromising age and a weakening country. The angel did notanswer. "It won't be as bad as the old hell, will it?" I said. "Worse,"said the angel.

  "How can you reconcile it with your conscience as a Minister ofGrace," I said, "to inflict such a punishment?" (They talked like thisin the city whence I had come and I could not avoid the habit of it.)

  "They have invented a new cheap yeast," said the angel.

  I looked at the legend on the walls of the hell that the angel wasbuilding, the words were written in flame, every fifteen seconds theychanged their color, "Yeasto, the great new yeast, it builds up bodyand brain, and something more."

  "They shall look at it for ever," the angel said.

  "But they drove a perfectly legitimate trade," I said, "the law allowedit."

  The angel went on hammering into place the huge steel uprights.

  "You are very revengeful," I said. "Do you never rest from doingthis terrible work?"

  "I rested one Christmas Day," the angel said, "and looked andsaw little children dying of cancer. I shall go on now until the firesare lit."

  "It is very hard to prove," I said, "that the yeast is as bad as youthink."

  "After all," I said, "they must live."

  And the angel made no answer but went on building his hell.

  THE TROUBLE IN LEAFY GREEN STREET

  She went to the idol-shop in Moleshill Street, where the old manmumbles, and said: "I want a god to worship when it is wet."

  The old man reminded her of the heavy penalties that rightly attachto idolatry and, when he had enumerated all, she answered him aswas meet: "Give me a god to worship when it is wet."

  And he went to the back places of his shop and sought out andbrought her a god. The same was carved of grey stone and wore apropitious look and was named, as the old man mumbled, The Godof Rainy Cheerfulness.

  Now it may be that long confinement to the house affects adverselythe liver, or these things may be of the soul, but certain it is that ona rainy day her spirits so far descended that those cheerful creaturescame within sight of the Pit, and, having tried cigarettes to no goodend, she bethought her of Moleshill Street and the mumbling man.

  He brought the grey idol forth and mumbled of guarantees, althoughhe put nothing on paper, and she paid him there and then hispreposterous price and took the idol away.

  And on the next wet day that there ever was she prayed to thegrey-stone idol that she had bought, the God of Rainy Cheerfulness(who knows with what ceremony or what lack of it?), and sobrought down on her in Leafy Green Street, in the preposteroushouse at the corner, that doom of which all men speak.

  THE MIST

  The mist said unto the mist: "Let us go up into the Downs." Andthe mist came up weeping.

  And the mist went into the high places and the hollows.

  And clumps of trees in the distance stood ghostly in the haze.

  But I went to a prophet, one who loved the Downs, and I said tohim: "Why does the mist come up weeping into the Downs when itgoes into the high places and the hollows?"

  And he answered: "The mist is the company of a multitude of soulswho never saw the Downs, and now are dead. Therefore they comeup weeping into the Downs, who are dead and never saw them."

  FURROW-MAKER

  He was all in black, but his friend was dressed in brown, membersof two old families.

  "Is there any change in the way you build your houses?" said he inblack.

  "No change," said the other. "And you?"

  "We change not," he said.

  A man went by in the distance riding a bicycle.

  "He is always changing," said the one in black, "of late almost everycentury. He is uneasy. Always changing."

  "He changes the way he builds his house, does he not?" said thebrown one.

  "So my family say," said the other. "They say he has changed of late."

  "They say he takes much to cities?" the brown one said.

  "My cousin who lives in belfries tells me so," said the black one."He says he is much in cities."

  "And there he grows lean?" said the brown one.

  "Yes, he grows lean."

  "Is it true what they say?" said the brown one.

  "Caw," said the black one.

  "Is it true that he cannot live many centuries?"

  "No, no," said the black one. "Furrow-maker will not die. We mustnot lose furrow-maker. He has been foolish of late, he has playedwith smoke and is sick. His engines have wearied him and his citiesare evil. Yes, he is very sick. But in a few centuries he will forgethis folly and we shall not lose furrow-maker. Time out of mind hehas delved and my family have got their food from the raw earthbehind him. He will not die."

  "But they say, do they not?" said the brown one, "his cities arenoisome, and that he grows sick in them and can run no longer, andthat it is with him as it is with us when we grow too many, and thegrass has the bitter taste in the rainy season, and our young growbloated and die."

  "Who says it?" replied the black one.

  "Pigeon," the brown one answered. "He came back all dirty.And Hare went down to the edge of the cities once. He says ittoo. Man was too sick to chase him. He thinks that Man will die,and his wicked friend Dog with him. Dog, he will die. That nastyfellow Dog. He will die too, the dirty fellow!"

  "Pigeon and Hare!" said the black one. "We shall not losefurrow-maker."

  "Who told you he will not die?" his brown friend said.

  "Who told me!" the black one said. "My family and his haveunderstood each other times out of mind. We know what follieswill kill each other and what each may survive, and I say thatfurrow-maker will not die."

  "He will die," said the brown one.

  "Caw," said the other.

  And Man said in his heart: "Just one invention more. There issomething I want to do with petrol yet, and then I will give it allup and go back to the woods."

  LOBSTER SALAD

  I was climbing round the perilous outside of the Palace ofColquonhombros. So far below me that in the tranquil twilightand clear air of those lands I could only barely see them lay thecraggy tops of the mountains.

  It was along no battlements or terrace edge I was climbing, buton the sheer face of the wall itself, getting what foothold I couldwhere the boulders joined.

  Had my feet been bare I was done, but though I was in mynight-shirt I had on stout leather boots, and their edges somehowheld in those narrow cracks. My fingers and wrists were aching.

  Had it been possible to stop for a moment I might have been luredto give a second look at the fearful peaks of the mountains downthere in the twilight, and this must have been fatal.

  That the thing was all a dream is beside the point. We have fallenin dreams before, but it is well known that if in one of those fallsyou ever hit the ground--you die: I had looked at those menacingmountaintops and knew well that such a fall as the one I fearedmust have such a termination. Then I went on.

  It is strange what different sensations there can be in differentboulders--every one gleaming with the same white light and everyone chosen to match the rest by minions of ancient kings--whenyour life depends on the edges of every one you come to.
Thoseedges seemed strangely different. It was of no avail to overcomethe terror of one, for the next would give you a hold in quite adifferent way or hand you over to death in a different manner.Some were too sharp to hold and some too flush with the wall,those whose hold was the best crumbled the soonest; each rockhad its different terror: and then there were those things that followedbehind me.

  And at last I came to a breach made long ago by earthquake,lightning or war: I should have had to go down a thousand feetto get round it and they would come up with me while I was doingthat, for certain sable apes that I have not mentioned as yet, thingsthat had tigerish teeth and were born and bred on that wall, hadpursued me all the evening. In any case I could have gone nofarther, nor did I know what the king would do along whose wallI was climbing. It was time to drop and be done with it or stop andawait those apes.