Toward the Gulf Part 27

"Now, James, you let me answer that, I know.

She was done with the bishop, that's the reason.

Be still and let me answer. Here's the story: We found out later that the bishop's trunk And kit of tools had been returned from Jaffa There to Montreaux, were there that very day, Which means the bishop never meant to go To Palestine at all, but meant to meet This woman in Montreaux and live with her.

Well, that takes money. So he used my husband To get that money. Now you wonder I see Why she would chance the spoiling of the scheme, Descend into the room before my husband Had given up this money, and this money, You see, was treated as a common fund Belonging to the church and to be used To get back Palestine, and so the bishop As head of the church, superior to my husband, Could say 'give me the money'--that was natural, My husband could not be surprised at that, Or question it. Well, why did she descend And almost lose the money? Oh, the cat!

I know what she did, as well as I had seen Her do it. Yes, she listened at the landing.

And when she heard my husband tell the sum Which he had brought, it wasn't enough to please her, And Satan entered in her heart, and she Waited until she heard the bishop's pockets Clink with the double eagles, then descended To expose the bishop and disgrace him there And everywhere in all the world. Now listen: She got that money or the most of it In spite of what she did. For in six weeks After my husband had returned, she walked, The brazen thing, the public streets of Springfield As jaunty as you please, and pretty soon The bishop died and all the papers printed The story of his shame."

She had scarce finished When the man at solitaire threw down the deck And make a whacking noise and rose and came Around in front of us and stood and looked The old man and old woman over, me He studied too. Then in an organ voice: "Is there a single verse in the New Testament That hasn't sprouted one church anyway, Letting alone the verses that have sprouted Two, three or four or five? I know of one: Where is it that it says that "Jesus wept"?

Let's found a church on that verse, "Jesus wept."

With that he went out in the rain and slammed The door behind him.

The old clergyman Had fallen asleep. His wife looked up and said, "That man is crazy, ain't he? I'm afraid."

THE BISHOP'S DREAM OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE

A la.s.sie sells the War Cry on the corner And the big drum booms, and the raucous bra.s.s horns Mingle with the cymbals and the silver triangle.

I stand a moment listening, then my friend Who studies all religions, finds a wonder In orphic spectacles like this, lays hold Upon my arm and draws me to a door Through which we look and see a room of seats, A platform at the end, a table on it, And signs upon the wall, "Jesus is Waiting,"

And "G.o.d is Love."

We enter, take a seat.

The band comes in and fills the room to bursting With horns and drums. They cease and feet are heard, The crowd has followed, half the seats are full.

After a prayer, a song, the captain mounts The platform by the table and begins: "Praise G.o.d so many girls are here to-night, And Sister Trickey, by the grace of G.o.d Saved from the wrath to come, will speak to you."

So Sister Trickey steps upon the platform, A woman nearing forty, one would say.

Blue-eyed, fair skinned, and yellow haired, a figure Once trim enough, no doubt, grown stout at last.

She was a pretty woman in her time, 'Twas plain to see. A shrewd intelligence From living in the world shines in her face.

We settle down to hear from Sister Trickey And in a moment she begins:

"Young girls: I thank the Lord for Jesus, for he saved me, I thank the Lord for Jesus every hour.

No woman ever stained with redder sins.

Had greater grace than mine. Praise G.o.d for Jesus!

Praise G.o.d for blood that washes sins away!

I was a woman fallen till Lord Jesus Forgave me, helped me up and made me clean.

My name is Lilah Trickey. Let me tell you How music was my tempter. Oh, you girls, If there be one before me who can sing Beware the devil and beware your voice That it be used for Jesus, not for Satan."

"I had a voice, was leader of the choir, But Satan entered in my voice to tempt The bishop of the church, and in my heart To tempt and use the bishop; in the bishop Old Satan slipped to lure me from the path.

He fell from grace for listening. And I Whose voice had turned him over to the devil Fell as he fell. He dragged me down with him.

No use to make it long, one word's enough: Old Satan is the first word and the last, And all between is nothing. It's enough To say the bishop and myself eloped Went to Montreaux. He left a wife and children.

And I poor silly thing with promises Of culture of my voice in Paris, lost Good name and all. And he lost all as well.

Good name, his soul I fear, because he took The church's money saying he would use it To win the Holy Sepulchre, in fact Intending all the while to use the money For travel and for keeping up a house With me as soul-mate. For he never meant To let me go to Paris for my voice, He never got enough to pay for that.

On that point he betrayed me, now I see 'Twas G.o.d who used him to deceive me there, And leave me to return to Springfield broken, An out-cast, fallen woman, shamed and scorned."

"We took a house in Montreaux, plain enough As we looked at it pa.s.sing, but within 'Twas sweet and fair as Satan could desire: Engravings on the wall and marble mantels, Gilt clocks upon the mantels, lovely rugs, Chests full of linen, silver, pewter, china, Soft beds with canopies of figured satin, The scent of apple blossoms through the rooms.

A little garden, vines against the wall.

There were the lake and mountains. Oh, but Satan Baited the hook with beauty. But the bishop Seemed self-absorbed, depressed and never smiled.

And every time his face came close to mine I smelled the brandy on him. Conscience whipped Its venomed tail against his peace of mind.

And so he took the brandy to benumb The sting of conscience and to dull the pain.

He told me he had business in Montreaux Which would require some weeks, would there be met By people who had money for him. I Was twenty-three and green, besides I walked In dreamland thinking of the promised schooling In Paris--oh 'twas music, as I said.". ...

"At last one day he said a friend was coming, And he went to the station. Very soon I heard their steps, the bishop and his friend.

They entered. I was curious and sat Upon the stair-way's landing just to hear.

And this is what I heard. The bishop asked: 'You've brought some money, how much have you brought?'

The man replied 'four hundred dollars.' Then The bishop said: 'I'll take it.' In a moment I heard the clinking gold and heard the bishop Putting it in his pocket.'

"G.o.d forgive me, I never was so angry in my life.

The bishop had been talking in big figures, We would have thousands for my voice and Paris, And here was just a paltry sum. Scarce knowing Just what I did, perhaps I wished to see The American who brought the money--well, No matter what it was, I walked in view Upon the landing, stood there for a moment And saw our visitor, a clergyman From all appearances. He stared, grew red, Large eyed and apoplectic, then he rose, Walked side-ways, backward, stumbled toward the door, Rattled with shaking hand the k.n.o.b and jerked The door ajar, with open mouth backed out Upon the street and ran. I heard him run A square at least."

"The bishop looked at me, His face all brandy blossoms, left the room, Came back at once with brandy on his breath.

And all that day was tippling, went to bed So drunk I had to take his clothing off And help him in."

"Young girls, beware of music, Save only hymns and sacred oratorios.

Beware the theatre and dancing hall.

Take lesson from my fate.

"The morning came.

The bishop called me, he was very ill And pale with fear. He had a dream that night.

Satan had used him and abandoned him.

And Death, whom only Jesus can put down, Was standing by the bed. He called to me, And said to me:

"'That money's in that drawer.

Use it to reach America, but use it To send my body back. Death's in the corner Behind that cabinet--there--see him look!

I had a dream--go get a pen and paper, And write down what I tell you. G.o.d forgive me-- Oh what a blasphemer am I. O, woman, To lie here dying and to know that G.o.d Has left me--h.e.l.l awaits me--horrible!

Last night I dreamed this man who brought the money, This man and I were walking from Damascus, And in a trice came down to Olivet.

Just then great troops of men sprang up around us And hailed us as expecting our approach.

And there I saw the faces--hundreds maybe, Of congregations who had trusted me In all the long past years--Oh, sinful woman, Why did you cross my path,' he moaned at times, 'And wreck my ministry.'

"'And so these crowds Armed as it seemed, exulted, called me general, And shouted forward. So we ran like mad And came before a building with a dome-- You know--I've seen a picture of it somewhere.

And so the crowds yelled: let the bishop enter And see the sepulchre, while we keep guard.

They pushed me in. But when I was inside There was no dome, above us was the sky, And what seemed walls was nothing but a fence.

Before us was a stable with a stall Where two cows munched the hay. There was a farmer Who with a pitchfork bedded down the stall.

"Where is the holy sepulchre?" I asked-- "My army's at the door." He kept at work And never raised his eyes and only said: "Don't know; I haven't time for things like that.

You're 'bout the hundredth man who's asked me that.

We don't know where it is, nor do we care.

We live here and we knew him, so we feel Less interest than you. But have you thought If you should find it it would only be A tomb like other tombs? Why look at this: Here is the very manger where he lay-- What is it? Just a manger filled with straw.

These cows are not the very cows you know-- But cows are cows in every age and place.

I think that board there has been nailed on since.

Outside of that the place is just the same.

Now what's the good of seeing it? His mother Lay in that corner there, what if she did?

That lantern on the wall's the very one They came to see the child with from the inn-- What of it? Take your army and go on, And leave me with my barn and with my cows."

"'So all the glory vanished! Devil magic Stripped all the glory off. No angels singing, No star of Bethlehem, no magi kneeling, No Mary crowned, no Jesus King, no mystic Blood for sins' remission--just a barn, A stall, two cows, a lantern--all the glory-- Swept from the gospel. That's my punishment: My poor weak brain filled full of all this dream, Which seems as real as life--to lie here dying Too weak to shake the dream! To see Death there Behind that cabinet--there--see him look-- By G.o.d forsaken--all theology, All mystery, all wonder, all delight Of spiritual vision swept away as clean As winds sweep up the clouds, and thus to see While dying, just a manger, and two cows, A lantern on the wall.

"'And thus to see, For blasphemy that duped an honest heart, And took the pitiful dollars of the flock To win you with--oh, woman, woman, woman, A barn, a stall, a lantern limned so clear In such a daylight of clear seeing senses That all the splendor, the miraculous Wonder of the virgin, nimbused child, The star that followed till it rested over The manger (such a manger) all are wrecked, All blotted from belief, all s.n.a.t.c.hed away From hands pushed off by G.o.d, no longer holding The robes of G.o.d.'

"And so the bishop raved While I stood terrified, since I could feel Death in the room, and almost see the monster Behind the cabinet.