Jorge Luis Borges - Collected Fictions Part 3

Rotgut,milongas,women,asimpatic.o.kind of curse at you from the mouth ofRosendo Juarez,a slap on the back from him that you tried to feel was friendly-like-the truth is, I was as happy as a man could be. I was paired up with a girl that could follow like she could read my mind; the tango was having its way with us, whirling us this way and then that and losing us and calling us back again and finding us.... To make a long story short, we boys were dancing, 'most like bein' in a dream, when all of a sud- den the music seemed to get louder, and what it was was that you could be- gin to hear the guitar-strumming of those two fellows I mentioned, mixing in with the music there at Julia's, and coming nearer every minute.

Then the gust of wind that had brought it to us changed direction, and I went back to my own body andmy partner's, and the conversations of the dance. A good while later, there came a knock at the front door-a big knock and a big voice, too. At that, everybody got still; then a man's chest b.u.mped the swinging doors open and the man himself stepped inside. The man resem- bled the voice a good deal.

For us, he wa'n't Francisco Real yet, but you couldn't deny he was a tall,muscular sort of man, dressed head to foot in black, with a shawl around his shoulders about the color of a bay horse. I remember his face being Indian-like, unsociable.

One of the swinging doors. .h.i.t me when it banged open. Like the d.a.m.n fool I am, I reached out and swung at the fellow with my left hand while with my right I went for the knife I kept sharp and waiting in thearmholeof my vest, under my left arm. If we'd've tangled, I wouldn't have lasted long. The man put out his arm-and it was all he had to do-and brushed me aside, like he was brushing away a fly. So there I was-half sprawled there behind the door, with my hand still under my vest, holding on to my useless weapon, while he just kept walking, like nothing had happened, right on into the room. Just kept walking-taller than any of the boys that were stepping aside to make way for him, and acting like we were all invisi- ble. The first row of fellows-pure Eye-talians, an' all eyes-opened out like a fan, and fast. But that wa'n't about to last. In the pack just behind those first fellows, the Englishman was waiting for him, and before that English- man could feel the stranger's hand on his shoulder, he floored him with a roundhouse he had waitin'-and no sooner had he landed his punch than the party started in for serious.

The place was yards and yards deep, but they herded the stranger from one end of it to the other, b.u.mping him and shov- ing him and whistling and spitting. At first they'd hit him with their fists, but then when they saw that he didn't so much as put up a hand to try to block their punches, they started slapping him-sometimes with their open hands and sometimes just with the harmless fringe on their shawls, like they were makin' fun of him. And also like they were reserving him forRosendo,who hadn't budged from where he was standing, back against the back wall, and without saying a word. He was taking quick puffs of his cigarette-I will say that-like he already had an inkling of what the rest of us would see clear enough later on. TheYardmaster-straight and b.l.o.o.d.y, and the wind from that jeering mob behind him-was getting pushed and shoved back toRosendo.Whistled at, beaten, spit on, as soon as he came face to face withRosendo,he spoke. He looked at him and he wiped off his face with his arm, and he said this: "I'm Francisco Real, from up on the Northside. Francisco Real, and they call me theYardmaster.I've let these poor sons of b.i.t.c.hes lift their hands to me because what I'm looking for is a man. There are people out there-I figure they're just talkers, you know-saying there's some guy down here in these boondocks that fancies himself a knife fighter, and a bad'un-say he's called the Sticker. I'd like to make his acquaintance, so he could show me-me being n.o.body, you understand-what it means to be a man of courage, a man you can look up to."

He said that, and he never took his eyes off him. Now a sticker for real glinted in his right hand-no doubt he'd had it up his sleeve the whole time. All around, the fellows that had been pushing to get close started backing away, and every one of us was looking at the two of them, and you could have heard a pin drop. Why, even the black gentleman that played the violin, a blind man he was, he had his face turned that way.

Just then I hear movement behind me, and I see that in the doorway there's standing six or seven men, which would be the Yardmaster's gang, you see. The oldest of them, a weather-beaten, country-looking man with a gray-streaked mustache, steps forward and stands there like he's dazzled by all the women and all the light, and he very respectfully takes his hat off. The others just stood there watching, keeping their eyes open, ready to step in, you see, if somebody wanted to start playing dirty.

Meantime, what was happening withRosendo-why hadn't he come out slashing at that swaggering son of a b.i.t.c.h? He hadn't said a word yet, hadn't so much as raised his eyes. His cigarette, I don't know whether he spit it out or whether it just fell out of his face. Finally he managed to get a few words out, but so quiet that those of us down at the other end of the room couldn't hear what he was saying. Then Francisco Real called him out again, and againRosendorefused to rise to the occasion. So at that, the youngest of the strangers-just a kid he was-he whistled. La Lujanera looked at him with hate in her eyes and she started through that crowd with her braid down her back-through that crowd of men andwh.o.r.es-and she walked up to her man and she put her hand to his chest and she pulled out his naked blade and she handed it to him.

"Rosendo,I think you're needing this," she said.

Right up next to the roof there was this long kind of window that looked out over the creek.Rosendotook the knife in his two hands and he seemed to be trying to place it, like he didn't recognize it. Then all of a sud- den he reared back and flung that knife straight through the window, out into the Maldonado. I felt a cold chill run down my spine.

"The only reason I don't carve you up for beefsteak is that you makeme sick," said the stranger. At that, La Lujanera threw her arms around this Yardmaster's neck, and she looked at him with those eyes of hers, and she said, with anger in her voice: "Forget that dog-he had us thinking he was a man."

Francisco Real stood there perplexed for a second, and then he put his arms around her like it was going to be forever, and he yelled at the musi- cians to play something-a tango,a milonga-and then yelled at the rest of us to dance. Themilongaran like a gra.s.s fire from one end of the room to the other. Real danced straight-faced, but without any daylight between him and her, now that he could get away with it.

They finally came to the door, and he yelled: "Make ways, boys-she's gettin' sleepy!"

That's what he said, and they walked out cheek to cheek, like in the drunken dizziness of the tango, like they were drowning in that tango.

I ought to be ashamed of myself. I spun around the floor a couple of times with one of the girls and then I just dropped her-on account of the heat and the crowdedness, I told her-and I slunk down along the wall till I got to the door. It was a pretty night-but a pretty night for who? Down at the corner stood that hack, with those two guitars sitting up straight on the seat, like two Christian gentlemen. It galled me to see those guitars left out like that, to realize that those boys thought so little of us that they'd trust us not even to walk off with their cheap guitars. It made me mad to feel like we were a bunch of n.o.bodies.

I grabbed the carnation behind my ear and threw it in a mud puddle and then I stood there looking at it, more or less so I wouldn't have to think of anything else. I wished it was already the next day, so I'd have this night behind me. Just then, somebody elbowed me, and it felt almost like a relief. It wasRosendo,slipping through the neighbor- hood all by himself.

"Seems like you're always in the way, a.s.shole," he muttered as he pa.s.sed by me-I couldn't say whether to get it off his chest or because he had his mind on something else. He took the direction where it was darkest, down along the Maldonado; I never saw the man again.

I stood there looking at the things I'd been seeing all my life-a sky that went on forever, the creek flowing angry-like down below there, a sleeping horse, the dirt street, the kilns-and I was struck by the thought that I was just another weed growing along those banks, coming up between the soap-worts and the bone piles of the tanneries. What was supposed to grow out of trash heaps if it wa'n't us? -We was big talkers, but soft when it came to a fight, all mouth and no backbone. Then I told myself it wa'n't like that- the tougher the neighborhood, the tougher a man necessarily had to be. A trash heap? - Themilongawas having itself a ball, there was plenty of racket in the houses, and the wind brought the smell of honeysuckle. The night was pretty, but so what? There were enough stars that you got dizzylookin'at 'em, one on top of another up there. I struggled, I tell you, to make myself feel like none of what had happened meant anything to me, but Rosendo's turning tail, that stranger's insufferable bullying -it wouldn't let me alone. The tall son of a b.i.t.c.h had even gotten himself a woman for the night out of it.

For that night and many more nights besides, I thought to myself, and maybe for all the rest of his nights, because La Lujanera was serious medicine. Lord knows which way they'd gone. But they couldn't be far. Probably at it hammer and tongs right now, in the first ditch they'd come to.

When I finally got back inside, that perfectly pleasant little dance was still going on, like nothing had ever happened.

Making myself as inconspicuous as I could, I peered around through the crowd, and I saw that one and another of our boys had slipped out, but the guys from the Northside were tangoing along with everybody else. There was no elbowing or words or anything; everything was real polite, but everybodywas keeping their eyes open. The music was kind of sleepy, and the girls that were dancing with the Northside boys were as meek as mice.

I was expecting something, but not what turned out to happen.

Outside we heard a woman crying, and then a voice that was familiar in a way, but calm, almosttoo calm, as though it didn't belong to a real person, saying to her: "Go ahead, darlin', go on in," and then some more of the woman's cry- ing. Then the voice seemed to be getting a little desperate.

"Open the door, I said! Open the door, you motherless b.i.t.c.h, open the door!"

At that, the rickety doors swung open and La Lujanera stepped in, alone. She came in kind of looking over her shoulder, like somebody was herding her inside.

"She's got a spirit back there commanding her," said the Englishman.

"A dead man, my friend," said theYardmasterthen. His face was like a drunkard's. He came in, and he took a few unsteady steps into the clearing that we all made for him, like we had before. He stood there tall, and unsee- ing, and then he toppled like a post. One of the boys that had come with him turned him over on his back and put his poncho under his head for a pillow. The boy's hands came away b.l.o.o.d.y.

That was when we saw that he had a big knife wound in his chest; his blood was pooling up and turnin'

black this bright red neckerchief he was wearing, but that I hadn't noticed before because his shawl had covered it. To try to stop the blood, one of the girls brought over somerotgutand scorched rags. He was in no conditionto tell us what'd happened, and La Lujanera was looking at him sort of vacant-like, with her arms just hanging down at her sides. Everybody was asking her what happened with their eyes, and finally she managed to find her voice. She said that after she'd gone outside with theYardmasterthere, they went off to a little vacant lot, and just then a stranger appeared and desperately called out theYardmasterto fight, and he stabbed him, gave him that wound there, and she swore she didn't know who the man was, but it wa'n'tRosendo.

Who was going to believe that?

The man at our feet was dying. My thought was, whoever had fixed his clock, his hand had been pretty steady. But theYardmaster wastough, you had to give him that. When he came to the door just now, Julia had been brewing up somemate, and themate went around the room and came all the way back to me before he was finally dead. "Cover my face," he said, when he knew he couldn't last anymore. His pride was all he had left, and he wa'n't going to let people gawk at the expressions on his face while he lay there dyin'. Somebody put that high-crowned black hat over his face, and he died under it, without a sound. When his chest stopped rising and falling, somebody got up the nerve to uncover him-he had that tired look that dead men get. He was one of the toughest men there was back then, fromBateriato the Southside-but no sooner was he dead and his mouth shut for all time, I lost all my hate for him.

"All it takes to die is to be alive," one of the girls back in the crowd said, and then another one said something else, in a pensive sort of way: "Man thought so highly of himself, and all he's good for now is to draw flies."

At that, the Northsiders all muttered something to each other, real low, and then two of 'em at the same time said it out loud: "The woman killed'im."

One of 'em yelled in her face, asking her if it was her that did it, and they all surrounded her. At that I forgot all about being meek and not getting in anybody's way, and I pushed through to her like a shot.

I'm such a d.a.m.n fool, it's a wonder as mad as I was I didn't pull out the little dag- ger I always carried on me. I could feel almost everybody-not to say everybody-looking at me.

"Look at this woman's hands," I said with a sneer. "Do they look steady enough-does she look like she'd have heart enough-to put aYardmasterlike that?"

Then I added, cool but tough at the same time: "Who'd've thought the dear departed, who they say was a man to be reckoned with on his own turf, would'veended up this way, and in a back- water as dead as this is, where nothin' ever happens unless some strangers wander in to give us somethin' to talk about and stay around to get spit on afterward?"

n.o.body rose to that bait, either.Just then through the silence came the sound of riders. It was the po- lice. For one reason or another, everybody there had reason to keep the law out of this, so they decided that the best thing was to move the body down to the creek. You'll recall that long window that the gleam of the knife sailed through?

Well, that's the very same way the man in black went. A bunch of them lifted him up and after they'd separated him from all the money and whatnot he had on him, somebody hacked off his finger to get to the ring he wore. Vultures,senor,to pick over a poor defenseless dead man like that, after another, better man has fixed'im.Then a heave-ho, and that rushing, long-suffering water carried him away. I couldn't say whether they gutted him*-I didn't want to look. The gray-mustached individual never took his eyes off me. La Lujanera took advantage of all the shuffling-about to disappear.

By the time the law came in to have their look around, the dance had a pretty good head of steam up again. The blind man on the violin knew how to play habaneras the likes of which you won't hear anymore. Outside, the day began to want to dawn a little. There was a line of arborvitae posts along the top of a hill, standing there all alone-like, because you couldn't see the thin strands of wire between 'em that early in the morning.

I strolled nice and easy on home to my place, which was about three blocks away. There was a light burning in the window, but then it went out. When I saw that, I can tell you I moved a good bit faster.

And then,Borges,for the second time I pulled out that short, sharp-edged knife I always car- ried here, under my vest, under my left arm, and I gave it another long slow inspection-and it was just like new, all innocent, and there was not the slightest trace of blood on it.

Et cetera ForNestorIbarra

A THEOLOGIAN IN DEATH.

I have been told by angels that when Melancthon died, a house was pre- pared for him like that in which he had lived in the world. This also is done with most of the new-comers, owing to which they do not know that they are not still in the natural world.... The things in his room, also, were all like those he had before, a similar table, a similar desk with compartments, and also a similar library; so that as soon as he awakened from sleep, he seated himself at the table and continued his writing, as if he were not a dead body, and this on the subject of justification by faith alone, and so on for several days, and writing nothing whatever concerning charity. As the angels perceived this, he was asked through messengers why he did not write about charity also. He replied that there was nothing of the church in charity, for if that were to be received as in any way an essential attribute of the church, man would also ascribe to himself the merit of justification and consequently of salvation, and so also he would rob faith of its spiritual essence. He said these things arrogantly, but he did not know that he was dead and that the place to which he had been sent was not heaven. When the angels perceived this, they withdrew....

A few weeks after this, the things which he used in his room began to be obscured, and at length to disappear, until at last there was nothing left there but the chair, the table, the paper and the inkstand; and, moreover, the walls of his room seemed to be plastered with lime, and the floor to be cov- ered with a yellow, brick-like material, and he himself seemed to be more coa.r.s.ely clad. Still, he went on writing, and since he persisted in his denial of charity... he suddenly seemed to himself to be under ground in a sort ofwork-house, where there were other theologians like him. And when he wished to go out he was detained.... At this, he began to question his ideas, and he was taken out, and sent back to his former chamber.... When sent back, he appeared clad in a hairy skin, but he tried to imagine that what had gone before had been a mere hallucination, and he went on praising faith and denying charity. One evening at dusk, he felt a chill. That led him to walk through the house, and he realized that the other rooms wereno longer those of the dwelling in which he had lived on earth. One room was filled with unknown instruments, another had shrunk so much that he could not enter it; another one had not itself changed, but its windows and doors opened onto great sand dunes. There was a room at the rear of the house in which there were three tables, at which sat men like himself, who also cast charity into exile, and he said that he conversed with them, and was confirmed by them day by day, and told that no other theologian was as wise as he. He was smitten by that adoration, but since some of the persons had no face, and others were like dead men, he soon came to abominate and mistrust them. Then he began to write something about charity; but what he wrote on the paper one day, he did not see the next; for this happens to every one there when he commits any thing to paper from the external man only, and not at the same time from the internal, thus from compulsion and not from freedom; it is obliterated of itself....

When any novitiates from the world entered his room to speak with him and to see him, he was ashamed that they should find him in such a sordid place, and so he would summon one of the magical spirits, who by phantasy could produce various becoming shapes, and who then adorned his room with ornaments and with flowered tapestry.... But as soon as the visitors were gone, these shapes vanished, and the former lime-plastering and emptiness returned, and sometimes before.

The last word we have of Melancthon is that the wizard and one of the men without a face carried him out to the sand dunes, where he is now a servant to demons.

(FromEmanuelSwedenborg,ArcanaClestia)*

THE CHAMBER OF STATUES.

In the early days, there was a city in the kingdom of the Andalusians where their monarchs lived and its name was Labtayt orCeuta,orJaen.In that city, there was a strong tower whose gate (of two portals breadth) was nei- ther for going in nor for coming out, but for keeping closed. And wheneveraKing died and another King took the Kingship after him, with his own hands, he set a new and strong lock to that gate, till there were four-and-twenty locks upon the tower, according to the number of Kings. After this time, there came to the throne an evil man, who was not of the old royal house, and instead of setting a new lock, he had a mind to open these locks, that he might see what was within the tower. The grandees of his kingdom forbade him this and pressed him to desist and reproved him and blamed him; they hid from him the iron key ring and told him that it was much easier to add a new lock to the gate than to force four-and-twenty, but he persisted, saying, "Needs must this place be opened." Then they offered him all that their hands possessed of monies and treasures and things of price, of flocks, of Christian idols, of gold and silver, if he would but refrain; still, he would not be baulked, and said "There is no help for it but I open this tower." So he pulled off the locks with his right hand (which will now burn through all eternity) and entering, found within the tower figures of Arabs on their horses and camels, habited in turbands hanging down at the ends, with swords in baldrick-belts thrown over their shoulders and bearing long lances in their hands. All these figures were round, as in life, and threw shadows on the ground; a blind man could identify them by touch, and the front hooves of their horses did not touch the ground yet they did not fall, as though the mounts were rearing. These exquisite figures filled the king with great amazement; even more wonderful was the excellent order and si- lence that one saw in them, for every figure's head was turned to the same side (the west) while not a single voice or clarion was heard. Such was the first room in the castle. In the second, the king found the table that be- longed to Suleyman, son of David-salvation be with both of them! This table was carved from a single gra.s.s-green emerald, a stone whose occult properties are indescribable yet genuine, for it calms the tempest, preserves the chast.i.ty of its wearer, keeps off dysentery and evil spirits, brings favor- able outcome to lawsuits, and is of great relief in childbearing.

In the third room, two books were found: one was black and taught the virtues of each metal, each talisman, and each day, together with the prepa- ration of poisons and antidotes; the other was white, and though the script was clear, its lesson could not be deciphered. In the fourth room found he amappa mundifiguring the earth and the seas and the different cities and countries and villages of the world, each with its true name and exact shape.

In the fifth, they found a marvelous mirror, great and round, of mixed metals, which had been made forSuleyman, son of David-on the twain be forgiveness!-wherein whoso looked might see the counterfeit presentmentof his parents and his children, from the first Adam to those who shall hear the Trumpet. The sixth room was filled with that hermetic powder, one drachm of which elixir can change three thousand drachms of silver into three thousand drachms of gold. The seventh appeared empty, and it was so long that the ablest of the king's archers might have loosed an arrow from its doorway without hitting the distant wall. Carved on that far wall, they saw a terrible inscription. The king examined it, and understood it, and it spoke in this wise: "If any hand opens the gate of this castle, the warriors of flesh at the entrance, who resemble warriors of metal, shall take possession of the kingdom."

These things occurred in the eighty-ninth year of the Hegira. Before the year reached its end, Tarik ibn Zayid would conquer that city and slay this King after the sorriest fashion and sack the city and make prisoners of the women and boys therein and get great loot. Thus it was that the Arabs spread all over the cities of Andalusia-a kingdom of fig trees and watered plains in which no man suffered thirst. As for the treasures, it is widely known that Tarik, son of Zayid, sent them to his lord, the caliph Al-Walid bin Abd al-Malik, who entombed them in a pyramid.

(From theBook of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Night 272)*

THE STORY OF THE TWO DREAMERS.

The Arab historian Al-Ishaqi tells the story of this event:

"It is related by men worthy of belief (though only Allah is omniscient and omnipotent and all-merciful and unsleeping) that a man of Cairo was pos- sessed of ample riches and great wealth; but he was so generous and mag- nanimous that his wealth pa.s.sed away, save his father's house, and his state changed, and he became utterly dest.i.tute, and could not obtain his suste- nance save by laborious exertion. And he slept one night, overwhelmed and oppressed, under a fig tree in his garden, and saw in his sleep a person drip- ping wet who took from his mouth a golden coin and said to him, 'Verily thy fortune is in Persia, in Isfahan: therefore seek it and repair to it.' So he journeyed to Persia, meeting on the way with all the dangers of the desert, and of ships, and of pirates, and of idolaters, and of rivers, and of wild beasts, and of men; and when he at last arrived there, the evening overtook him, and he slept in a mosque. Now there was, adjacent to the mosque, a house; and as Allah (whose name be exalted!) had decreed, a party of robbersentered the mosque, and thence pa.s.sed to that house; and the people of the house, awaking at the disturbance occasioned by the robbers, raised cries; the neighbors made a cry as well, whereupon theWaleecame to their aid with his followers, and the robbers fled over the housetops.

TheWaleethen entered the mosque, and found the man of Cairo sleeping there; so he laid hold upon him, and inflicted upon him a painful beating with mikra?

ahs, until he was at the point of death, and imprisoned him; and he remained three days in the prison; after which, theWaleecaused him to be brought, and said to him, 'From what country art thou?' He answered, 'From Cairo.' -'And what affair,' said theWalee,'was the cause of thy com- ing to Persia?' He answered, 'I saw in my sleep a person who said to me, "Verily thy fortune is in Isfahan; therefore repair to it." And when I came here, I found the fortune of which he told me to be those blows of the mikra'ahs, that I have received from thee.'- "And upon this theWaleelaughed so that his grinders appeared, and said to him, 'O thou of little sense,I saw three times in my sleep a person who said to me, "Verily a house in Cairo, in such a district, and of such a de- scription, hath in its court a garden, at the lower end of which is a fountain, wherein is wealth of great amount: therefore repair to it and take it." But I went not; and thou, through the smallness of they sense, hast journeyed from city to city on account of a thing thou hast seen in sleep, when it was only an effect of confused dreams.'-Then he gave him some money, and said to him, 'Help thyself with this to return to thy city.'

"So he took it and returned to Cairo. Now the house which theWaleehad described, in Cairo, was the house of that man; therefore when he ar- rived at his abode, he dug beneath the fountain, and beheld abundant wealth. Thus G.o.d enriched and sustained him; and this was a wonderful coincidence."

(From theBook of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Night 351)*

THE WIZARD THAT WAS MADE TO WAITIn SantiaG.o.de Compostela,there was once a dean of the cathedral who was greedy to learn the art of magic. He heard a rumor that a man named Ulan, who lived in the city of Toledo, knew more things respecting this art than any other man, and he set off to Toledo to find him.

The day the dean arrived, he went directly to the place whereIllanlived and found him at his books, in a room at the rear of the house. Ulan greetedthe dean kindly, but begged that he put off the business of his journey until after they had eaten. He showed him to a cool apartment and told him he was very glad that he had come. After dinner, the dean explained the pur- pose of his journey, and askedIllanto teach him the occult science. Ulan told him that he had divined that his visitor was a dean, a man of good po- sition and promising future; he told him, also, however, that he feared that should he teach him as he asked, the dean would forget him afterward. The dean promised that he would never forget the kindness shown him byIllan,and said he would be forever in his debt. When that vow was made,Illantold the dean that the magic arts could be learned only in a retired place, and he took him by the hand and led him into an adjoining room, where there was a large iron ring in the floor. First, however, he instructed his serving-woman that they would have partridge for dinner, though he told her not to put them on the fire until he bade her do so. The two men to- gether lifted the iron ring, and they began to descend a stairway hewn with skill from stone; so far did they descend these stairs that the dean would have sworn they had gone beneath the bed of the Tagus. At the foot of the stairway there was a cell, and then a library, and then a sort of cabinet, or private study, filled with instruments of magic. They thumbed through the books, and as they were doing this, two men entered with a letter for the dean. This letter had been sent him by the bishop, his uncle, and it informed him that his uncle was taken very ill; if the dean wished to see him alive, the letter said, he should return home without delay. This news vexed the dean greatly, in the first instance because of his uncle's illness, but second because he was obliged to interrupt his studies. He resolved to send his regrets, and he sent the letter to the bishop. In three days, several men arrived, dressed in mourning and bringing further letters for the dean, informing him that his uncle the bishop had died, that a successor was being chosen, and that it was hoped that by the grace of G.o.d he himself would be elected. These letters also said that he should not trouble himself to come, since it would be much better if he were electedin absentia.

Ten days later, two very well-turned-out squires came to where the dean was at his studies; they threw themselves at his feet, kissed his hand, and ad- dressed him as "bishop."

WhenIllansaw these things, he went with great happiness to the new prelate and told him he thanked G.o.d that such good news should make its way to his humble house. Then he asked that one of his sons be given the vacant deanship. The bishop informed him that he had reserved that posi- tion for his own brother, but that he was indeed resolved to show Illan's sonfavor, and that the three of them should set off together for Santiago at once.

The three men set off for Santiago, where they were received with great honors. Six months later, the bishop received messengers from the Pope, who offered him the archbishopric of Tolosa and left to the bishop himself the choice of his successor. WhenIllanlearned this news, he reminded the bishop of his old promise and requested the bishopric for his son. The new archbishop informed Ulan that he had reserved the bishopric for his own uncle, his father's brother, but that he was indeed resolved to show Illan's son favor, and that they should set off together for Tolosa atonce. Illanhad no choice but to agree.

The three men set off for Tolosa, where they were received with great honors and with ma.s.ses. Two years later, the archbishop received messen- gers from the Pope, who offered him a cardinal's biretta and left to the arch- bishop himself the choice of his successor. WhenIllanlearned this news, he reminded the archbishop of his old promise and requested the arch- bishopric for his son. The new cardinal informedIllanthat he had reserved the archbishopric for his own uncle, his mother's brother, but that he was indeed resolved to show Illan's son favor, and he insisted that they set out together for Rome atonce. Illanhad no choice but to agree.

The three men set out together for Rome, where they were received with great honors and with ma.s.ses and processions. Four years later the Pope died, and our cardinal was unanimously elected to the Holy See by his brother cardinals. WhenIllanlearned this news, he kissed the feet of His Holiness, reminded him of his old promise, and requested that his son be made cardinal in His Holiness' place. The PopethreatenedIllanwith im- prisonment, telling him that he knew very well he was a wizard who when he had lived in Toledo had been no better than a teacher of magic arts. The miserableIllansaid he would return to Spain, then, and begged of the Pope a morsel to eat along the way. The Pope refused. Then it was thatIllan(whose face had become young again in a most extraordinary way) said in a firm and steady voice: "Then I shall have to eat those partridges that I ordered up for tonight's supper."

The serving-woman appeared andIllantold her to put the partridges on the fire. At those words, the Pope found himself in the cell under Illan's house in Toledo, a poor dean of the cathedral of SantiaG.o.de Compostela,and so ashamed of his ingrat.i.tude that he could find no words by which to beg Illan's forgiveness.Illandeclared that the trial to which he'd put thedean sufficed; he refused him his portion of the partridges and went with him to the door, where he wished him a pleasant journey and sent him off most courteously.

(From theLibro dePatronioby the Infante don Juan Manuel, who took it in turn from an Arabic volume,The Forty Mornings and the Forty Nights)

THE MIRROR OF INK.

History records that the crudest of the governors of the Sudan wasYqubthe Afflicted, who abandoned his nation to the iniquities of Egyptian tax collectors and died in a chamber of the palace on the fourteenth day of the moon of Barmajat in the year 1842. There are those who insinuate that the sorcerer Abderramenal-Masmudi(whose name might be translated "The Servant of Mercy") murdered him with a dagger or with poison, but a natural death is more likely-especially as he was known as "the Afflicted." Nonetheless, Capt. Richard Francis Burton spoke with this sorcerer in 1853, and he reported that the sorcerer told him this story that I shall reproduce here: "It is true that I suffered captivity in the fortress of Yakub the Afflicted, due to the conspiracy forged by my brother Ibrahim, with the vain and perfidi- ous aid of the black chieftains of Kordofan, who betrayed him. My brother perished by the sword upon the b.l.o.o.d.y pelt of justice, but I threw myself at the abominated feet of the Afflicted One and told him I was a sorcerer, and that if he granted me my life I would show him forms and appearances more marvellous than those of thefa.n.u.si jihal, the magic lantern. The tyrant demanded an immediate proof; I called for a reed pen, a pair of scis- sors, a large sheet of Venetian paper, an inkhorn, a chafing-dish with live charcoal in it, a few coriander seeds, and an ounce of benzoin. I cut the pa- per into six strips and wrote charms and invocations upon the first five; on the last I inscribed the following words from the glorious Qur'an: 'We have removed from thee thy veil, and thy sight is piercing.' Then I drew a magic square in Yakub's right palm and asked him to hold it out to me; into it, I poured a circle of ink. I asked him whether he could see his face in the cir- cle, and he told me that he could see it clearly. I instructed him not to raise his eyes. I put the benzoin and the coriander seeds into the chafing-dish and therein also burned the invocations. I asked the Afflicted One to name the figure that he wished to see. He thought for a moment and told me that he wished to see a wild horse, the most beautiful creature that grazed uponthe meadows that lie along the desert. He looked, and he saw first green and peaceful fields and then a horse coming toward him, as graceful as a leopard and with a white star upon its forehead. He then asked me for a herd of such horses, as perfect as the first, and he saw upon the horizon a long cloud of dust, and then the herd. I sensed that my life was safe.

"Hardly had the sun appeared above the horizon when two soldiers en- tered my cell and conveyed me to the chamber of the Afflicted One, wherein I found awaiting me the incense, the chafing-dish, and the ink.

Thus day by day did he make demands upon my skill, and thus day by day did I show to him the appearances of this world. That dead man whom I abominate held within his hand all that dead men have seen and all that living men see: the cities, climes, and kingdoms into which this world is divided, the hidden treasures of its center, the ships that sail its seas, its instruments of war and music and surgery, its graceful women, its fixed stars and the planets, the colors taken up by the infidel to paint his abominable images, its minerals and plants with the secrets and virtues which they hold, the angels of silver whose nutriment is our praise and justification of the Lord, the pa.s.sing-out of prizes in its schools, the statues...o...b..rds and kings that lie within the heart of its pyramids, the shadow thrown by the bull upon whose shoulders this world is upheld, and by the fish below the bull, the deserts of Allah the Merciful. He beheld things impossible to describe, such as streets illumi- nated by gaslight and such as the whale that dies when it hears man's voice. Once he commanded me to show him the city men call Europe. I showed him the grandest of its streets and I believe that it was in that rushing flood of men, all dressed in black and many wearing spectacles, that he saw for the first time the Masked One.

"From that time forth, that figure, sometimes in the dress of the Su- danese, sometimes in uniform, but ever with a veil upon its face, crept al- ways into the visions. Though it was never absent, we could not surmise who it might be. And yet the appearances within the mirror of ink, at first momentary or unmoving, became now more complex; they would unhesi- tatingly obey my commands, and the tyrant could clearly follow them. In these occupations, both of us, it is true, sometimes became exhausted. The abominable nature of the scenes was another cause of weariness; there was nothing but tortures,garrotes,mutilations, the pleasures of the executioner and the cruel man.

"Thus did we come to the morning of the fourteenth day of the moon of Barmajat. The circle of ink had been poured into the palm, the benzoin sprinkled into the chafing-dish, the invocations burned. The two of us werealone.The Afflicted One commanded me to show him a just and irrevoca- ble punishment, for that day his heart craved to see a death. I showed him soldiers with tambours, the stretched hide of a calf, the persons fortunate enough to look on, the executioner with the sword of justice. The Afflicted One marvelled to see this, and said to me:It is Abu Kir, the man that slew thy brother Ibrahim, the man that will close thy life when I am able to command the knowledge to convoke these figures without thy aid. He asked me to bring forth the condemned man, yet when he was brought forth the Afflicted One grew still, because it was the enigmatic man that kept the white cloth always before his visage. The Afflicted One commanded me that before the man was killed, his mask should be stripped from him. I threw myself at his feet and said:Oking of time and substance and peerless essence of the century, this figure is not like the others, for we know not his name nor that of his fathers nor that of the city which is his homeland. Therefore,Oking, I dare not touch him, for fear of committing a sin for which I shall be held accountable.The Afflicted One laughed and swore that he himself would bear the responsibility for the sin, if sin it was. He swore this by his sword and by the Qur'an. Then it was that I commanded that the condemned man be stripped naked and bound to the stretched hide of the calf and his mask removed from him. Those things were accomplished; the horrified eyes of Yakub at last saw the visage-which was his own face. In fear and madness, he hid his eyes. I held in my firm right hand his trembling hand and commanded him to look upon the ceremony of his death. He was possessed by the mirror; he did not even try to turn his eyes aside, or to spill out the ink.

When in the vision the sword fell upon the guilty neck, he moaned and cried out in a voice that in- spired no pity in me, and fell to the floor, dead.

"Glory to Him Who does not die, and Who holds within His hand the two keys, of infinite Pardon and infinite Punishment."

(From Richard Francis Burton,The Lake Regions of Equatorial Africa)*

mahomed's double Since the idea of Mahomed is always connected with religion in the minds of Mahomedans, therefore in the spiritual world some Mahomed or other is always placed in their view. It is not Mahomed himself, who wrote the Koran, but some other who fills his place; nor is it always the same person, but he is changed according to circ.u.mstances. A native of Saxony, who was taken prisoner by the Algerines, and turned Mahomedan, once acted in this character. He having been a Christian, was led to speak with them of theLord Jesus, affirming that he was not the son of Joseph, but the Son of G.o.d himself. This Mahomed was afterwards replaced by others. In the place where that representative Mahomed has his station, a fire, like a small torch, appears, in order that he may be distinguished; but it is visible only to Mahomedans.

The real Mahomed, who wrote the Koran, is not at this day to be seen among them. I have been informed that at first he was appointed to preside over them; but being desirous to rule over all theconcerns of their religion as a G.o.d, he was removed from his station, and was sent down to one on the right side near the south. A certain society of Mahomedans was once insti- gated by some evil spirits to acknowledge Mahomed as a G.o.d, and in order to appease the sedition Mahomed was raised up from the earth or region beneath, and produced to their view; and on this occasion I also saw him. He appeared like corporeal spirits, who have no interior perception. His face was of a hue approaching to black; and I heard him utter these words, "I am your Mahomed," and presently he seemed to sink down again.

(FromEmanuelSwedenborg,VeraChristianaReligio[1771])*

Indexof Sources

TheCruel Redeemer Lazarus Morell Mark Twain,Life on the Mississippi. New York, 1883.

BernardDe Voto,Mark Twain's America.Boston, 1932.

The Improbable Impostor Tom Castro PhilipGosse,The History of Piracy.London, Cambridge, 1911.*