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Laura E. Richards >> The Silver Crown
THE SILVER CROWN
Another Book of Fables
BY
LAURA E. RICHARDS
Author of "Captain January," "The Golden Windows,"
"The Joyous Story of Toto," etc.
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1919
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COPYRIGHT, 1906,
BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
All rights reserved
Printers
S. J. PARKHILL & CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
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TO MY SISTER
MAUD HOWE ELLIOTT
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A WINTER THOUGHT
Hast thou e'er a grief, dear?
Lock it in thy heart!
Keep it, close it,
Sacred and apart;
Lest another, at thy sigh,
Hear his sorrow stir and cry.
Wakeful watch doth sorrow keep:
Hush it! hide it! bid it sleep!
Hast thou e'er a joy, love?
Bind it on thy brow!
Vaunt it, flaunt it,
All the world to know.
Where the shade lies dim and gray,
Turn its glad and heartsome ray.
Does thy sad-browed neighbor smile?
So thy life was worth the while!
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CONTENTS
PAGE
THE SILVER CROWN 1
THE GRUMPY SAINT 5
THE HOUSEKEEPER 9
BROTHER BARNABAS 12
THE FATES 14
THE STEPS 16
THE GLASS 19
IN THE SHADED ROOM 21
HELL GATE 24
THE THORN 25
THE SERPENT 27
IF THIS SHOULD BE. I 28
IF THIS SHOULD BE. II 30
THE FEAST 32
THE SPIRIT 35
THE ROOTS 37
ALONG THE WAY 39
THE GRAVE DIGGERS 42
THE SICK CHILD 44
AT LONG LAST 48
GILLYFLOWER GENTLEMAN 50
THE JUDGMENT 52
THE BLIND CHILD 54
THE CAKE 56
THE SERMON 59
THE TANGLED SKEIN 61
THE NURSLING 64
WORMWOOD 67
THE PIT 69
HOSPITALITY 73
THE POT 75
THE BODY 76
THE RULER 79
THE TORCH-BEARER 81
THE STONE BLOCKS 83
THE POTTER 85
THE NEIGHBOUR 87
THE WOUND 88
THE WHITE FIRE. I 90
THE WHITE FIRE. II 94
FOR YOU AND ME 96
THE PICTURE BOOK 98
THE FLOWER OF JOY 100
THE BURNING HOUSE 102
THE PLANT 104
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THE SILVER CROWN
A BOOK OF FABLES
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THE SILVER CROWN
"And shall I be a king?" asked the child, "and shall I wear a crown?"
"You shall surely wear a crown," said the Angel, "and a kingdom is
waiting for you."
"Oh, joy!" said the child. "But tell me, how will it come about? for now
I am only a little child, and the crown would hardly stay on my curls."
"Nay! that I may not tell," said the Angel. "Only ride and run your
best, for the way is long to your kingdom, and the time short."
So the child rode and ran his best, crossing hills and valleys, broad
streams and foaming torrents. Here and there he saw people at work or
at play, and on these he looked eagerly.
"Perhaps, when they see me," he said, "they will run to meet me, and
will crown me with a golden crown, and lead me to their palace and
throne me there as king!"
But the folk were all busy with their tasks or their sport, and none
heeded him, or left their business for him; and still he must fare
forward alone, for the Way called him.
Also, he came upon many travellers like himself, some coming toward him,
others passing him by. On these, too, he looked earnestly, and would
stop now one, now another, and question him.
"Do you know," he asked, "of any kingdom in these parts where the crown
is ready and the folk wait for a king?"
Then one would laugh, and another weep, and another jeer, but all alike
shook their heads.
"I am seeking crown and kingdom for myself," cried one; "is it likely
that I can be finding one for you, too? Each one for himself, and the
Way for all!"
Another said: "You seek in vain. There are no crowns, only fools' caps
with asses' ears and bells that jingle in them."
But others, and these they who had been longest on the way, only looked
on him, some sadly, some kindly, and made no answer; and still he fared
onward, for the Way called him.
Now and then he stopped to help some poor soul who had fallen into
trouble, and when he did that the way lightened before him, and he felt
the heart light within him; but at other times the hurry was strong on
him, so that he would turn away his face, and shut his ears to the cries
that rang in them; and when he did that, the way darkened, and
oftentimes he stumbled himself, and fell into pits and quagmires, and
must cry for help, sometimes on those to whom he had refused it.
By and by he forgot about the crown and the kingdom; or if he thought of
them, it was but as a far-off dream of dim gold, such as one sees at
morning when the sun breaks through the mist. But still he knew that the
way was long and the time short, and still he rode and ran his best.
At the last he was very weary, and his feet could carry him no further,
when, looking up, he saw that the way came to an end before him, and
there was a gate, and one in white sitting by it, who beckoned to him.
Trembling, yet glad, the child drew near, and knew the Angel who had
spoken to him at the beginning.
"Welcome!" said the Angel, "you come in good time. And what of the Way?"
"I came as fast as I could," said the child, "but many things hindered
me, and now I am weary, and can go no further."
"But what did you find on the way?" asked the Angel.
"Oh! I found joy and sorrow," said the child, "good measure of both; but
never a crown, such as you promised me, and never a kingdom."
"Oh, dear, foolish child," said the Angel. "You are wearing your crown.
It is of purest silver, and shines like white frost; and as for your
kingdom, the name of it is Rest, and here the entrance to it."
THE GRUMPY SAINT
Once upon a time there was a Grumpy Saint, who thought that all the
world were sinners, himself included. He lived in a little cabin by the
roadside, and his life was a burden to him on account of the passers-by.
They gave him no peace. Now it was a poor man asking for food.
"Go along with you!" said the Grumpy Saint. "It is an abomination to
feed sturdy beggars like you."
And he gave the man his dinner, and went hungry.
Again, it was an old woman, creeping along the road, bent double under a
heavy burden.
"Shame on you!" said the Grumpy Saint. "Why are you not at home,
tending your fire, instead of gadding along the road in this fashion?"
And he took the burden, and carried it all the way to the woman's house,
and came back grumbling.
Still again it was a child, who had lost its way and came crying to his
door.
"Please take me home!" said the child.
"You should not have come out!" said the Saint. "Where is your home?"
"Miles away!" said the child. "And I am tired; please carry me!"
"Stuff and nonsense!" said the Saint. "Don't talk to me!"
And he wrapped the child in his own coat (for it was winter), and
carried him miles through the snow to his home; and then trudged back
again, but without the coat, for the folk were poor.
And so it went on.
One day the Grumpy Saint died, and went to Heaven, a place in which he
had never believed. As he entered that country, the first person he met
was an Angel, with a bright gold aureole round her head, and in her hand
a staff of lilies.
"Welcome!" said the Angel. "Welcome, dear and great saint! I am sent to
greet you, and lead you to the feast that is making in your honor."
"Some mistake!" said the Grumpy Saint. "I don't know what you are
talking about, and I don't like play-acting. What place is this?"
"This is Heaven!" said the Angel.
"Nonsense!" said the Saint. "I don't believe in Heaven."
"Yes, but you _are_ in it," said the Angel, "which is of more
consequence."
"And who may you be?" asked the Saint. "I seem to know your face."
"Yes!" said the Angel. "I am the old woman you helped with the burden;
don't you remember? the rest are waiting inside, all the people whom you
loved and helped. Come with me!"
"I don't know what you are talking about!" said the Saint. "But if I am
to go with you, first take off that ridiculous object on your head! I
don't like play-acting, I tell you, and I have never believed in this
kind of thing."
The Angel smiled; and leading him to a clear pool that lay beside the
road, bade him look in. He looked, and saw two white-clad figures
bending over the water, and round the head of each the shining circle.
"Bless my soul!" cried the Grumpy Saint. "I've got one too!"
"To be sure!" said the Angel.
"Preposterous!" said the Grumpy Saint.
THE HOUSEKEEPER
One day Love went to and fro in his house, looked from door and window,
and had no rest.
"I am weary," he said, "of this little house. Strait are the walls of
it, and narrow the windows, and from them always the same things to see.
I must be free; I must fly, or of what use are my wings?"
So he took his red robe about him and flew out, leaving door and window
streaming wide to the cold wind.
But when he was gone came one in a little gown of green, (green for
hope, Sweetheart; green for hope!) and entered the house, and shut door
and window; swept the hearth clean and mended the fire, and then set
herself down and sang, and minded her seam. Ever when the flame burned
low she built it up, and now and then she looked out of window to see
if any one were coming; but mostly she sat and sang, and kept the house
tidy and warm.
Now by and by Love was weary with flying hither and yon; cold he was,
too, and night coming on; and as the dusk fell, he saw a light shining
bright on the edge of the wold.
"Where there is light there will be warmth!" said Love; and he flew
near, and saw that it was his own little house.
"Oh! who keeps my house alight?" cried Love.
He opened the door, and the air came warm to greet him.
"Oh! who keeps my house warm?" cried Love. And he looked, and saw one in
a little gown of green, (green for hope, Sweetheart; oh! green for
hope!) mending the fire, and singing as she worked.
"Who are you, who keep my house?" asked Love.
"Kindness is my name!" said the little housekeeper.
"Outside it is cold and empty," said Love, "and the wind blows over the
waste; may I come in and warm me by the fire?"
"Oh! and welcome!" said Kindness. "It was for you I kept it."
"My red robe is torn and draggled," said Love. "May I wrap me in the
gown you are making?"
"Oh! and welcome," said Kindness. "It is for you it was making, and now
it is finished."
Love bent over the fire and warmed his poor cold hands.
"Oh!" he cried; "now that I am back in my house I would never leave it
again. But what of my wings, lest they put the flight in me once more?"
"Suppose I clip them," said Kindness, "with my little scissors!"
"How are your scissors called, dear?"
"Peace-and-Comfort is their name!" said Kindness.
So Kindness clipped the wings of Love; and this one swept the hearth,
and that one mended the fire, and all went well while they kept the
house together.
BROTHER BARNABAS
One came to Brother Barnabas seeking consolation.
"Ah!" said the good Brother. "My heart bleeds for you. You are in
affliction, bereft of some one dearer, it may be, than life itself. My
sympathy--"
"No!" said the man. "My friends, such as they are, are all living."
"I see!" said Brother Barnabas. "Bodily pain has set its sharp tooth in
you; that is indeed hard to bear. Let me--"
"No!" said the man. "I am in good health, so far as that goes."
"Alas!" said Brother Barnabas. "My poor brother, then it is sin that
weighs upon you, the cruellest burden of all. Truly, I grieve for you."
"What do you mean?" said the man. "I have never broken a commandment in
my life."
"Ah!" said Brother Barnabas. "I begin to perceive--"
"I was sure you would!" said the man. "I am misunderstood--"
"_Not by me!_" said Brother Barnabas. "Begone!" and he shut the door on
him.
THE FATES
The high Fates sat weaving, weaving at their loom, and I, poor soul,
came crying at the door, asking a boon at their hands.
Those great ladies did not turn their heads, nor stint the flying
shuttle; but one of them spoke, and she the youngest, and her voice was
like the wind over the sea.
"What would you?" she said.
And I said, "That which you had of me yesterday."
"Is it your sin, that turned your cup blood red?"
"Nay; for I drained the cup, and washed it clean with my tears."
"Is it your sorrow, that changed the green world to black about you?"
"Nay; for I wrapped me in it as in a mantle, and now I should go cold
without it."
"What then?" she asked; and ever as she spoke, back and forth, back and
forth, the shuttle flew.
"Oh, what but my blunder! when I would make a path for my Love's white
feet, and set instead a snare for them, to her hurt?"
Then those high ladies spoke all together; cold, sweet, steadfast were
the voices of them, and the shuttle humming through.
"Even now the shuttle is threaded with your fault, and naught may stay
its way. Go, poor soul, empty and crying as you came; yet take one
comfort with you. Even of this, even of this, the Web had need!"
THE STEPS
"When you come to the city, seek out the House of Wisdom, for it is the
best house, and there you shall do well."
That was what the old people said to the boy when he started on his
journey, and he kept the saying well in mind.
"How shall I know the house?" he had asked them; and they answered, "By
the look of the steps before the door, and by the number of people who
go in and out. More we may not tell you."
The boy pondered these sayings as he journeyed.
"It will be a fine house, no doubt," he said. "I shall know it by its
size and splendor; but as for what they said of the steps, I make little
of that part."
By and by he came to the city, and looked about him eagerly for the
House of Wisdom. Presently, on his right, he saw a house of plain yet
stately aspect. Clear were its windows and high, and from one a face
looked at him of a reverend man, calm and kind.
"Might that be Wisdom?" thought the boy. Then he looked at the steps,
and saw them high and steep, and shining white, as if they had little
use. The door stood open wide, but few came or went through it.
"This cannot be the House of Wisdom!" said the boy. "I must seek
farther."
So he went farther. And presently he saw on his left a house rich and
gay of aspect, shining with gold, and all the windows flung up to the
air; and from one window a face of a fair woman laughed on him, and
beckoned, and waved a tinsel scarf with bells that tinkled sweetly on
his ear.
"Oh," said the boy, "if this might but be the House of Wisdom! but what
of the steps before the door?"
He looked at the steps; and they were wide and shallow, and trodden into
holes and valleys by many feet; and up those steps, and through the
open door, a throng was constantly passing, laughing and singing, and
pelting one another with flowers and spangles.
"Ah," said the boy, "this is, indeed, the House of Wisdom! for true it
is that I can tell by the steps, and by the people who go in and out."
And he entered the House of Folly.
THE GLASS
"This is extremely interesting!" said the man. "You say that I am not
one being but many, and that your glass will show me my component parts
as separate entities?"
"Precisely!" said the Wandering Magician.
The man looked in the glass.
"Here I see several beings!" he said. "Some of them are
distinguished-looking, that one on horseback, for example, and the one
with the lyre. But others have a frivolous air, and there is one with
positively a low expression; and yet he is attractive too, when I look
closer, and I seem to know him. What are these creatures?"
"These are your tastes!" said the Wandering Magician.
"Oh!" said the man. "Well, some of them are certainly elegant and
refined. But whom have we here? what strange pigmies are these?"
"Your virtues!" said the Magician.
"Dear me!" said the man. "Yes, to be sure, I recognize them. But what
makes them so small?"
"This is not a magnifying glass!" said the Magician.
"But they are pretty!" said the man. "Beautiful, I may say. That little
fellow with the twinkle in his eye and his coat out at elbows; he is
charming, if I do say it. But what is going on now? here comes a crowd
of big, hulking, ruffianly fellows, jostling the little people and
driving them to the wall. What a villainous-looking set! Their faces are
wholly strange to me; what are they?"
"Your vices!" said the Wandering Magician.
But when the man would have fallen upon him, he was gone.
IN THE SHADED ROOM
The shaded room was still; the doctor and the nurse sat watching by the
bedside; the firelight crept into the corners and whispered to the
shadows: there was no other sound.
"You think you are ready to go?" asked the Angel-who-attends-to-things.
"Yes!" said the man. "I have drained the Cup from brim to bitter lees; I
have read the Book from cover to cover. I am ready."
"Humph!" said the Angel-who-attends-to-things. "Well, come along!" and
he led the man out, but did not shut the door after him.
The man had lived in state and splendor, and he had thought that some
ceremony would attend his departure, but there was nothing of the sort.
The only change was, that as he went along the Angel seemed to be
growing very tall, and he very little, so that he had to reach up to
hold the strong white hand, and his feet were well-nigh taken from under
him by the sweep of the great white robes; also he felt afraid and
foolish, he knew not why.
So they came at last to a gate, through which many children were passing
with glad faces, carrying tablets of amber and pearl; and beside the
gate sat another Angel, writing in a book; and when a child passed in,
this Angel nodded and smiled to him, and wrote a word in his book.
Now the Angel of the Gate looked up, and saw the
Angel-who-attends-to-things, and beside him the man, holding fast to his
hand, and feeling afraid and foolish.
"From the Primary Department?" asked the Angel of the Gate.
"Yes!" said the other, who never wasted words.
The Angel of the Gate looked the man over carefully. "His hands are
dirty!" he said at length.
"Yes!" said the Angel-who-attends-to-things; "he has not learned to keep
them clean."
"And there is mud on his feet!"
"Yes, he will walk in the mire."
"And his clothes are torn, and stained with blood."
"Yes, he has been quarrelling with his brother and beating him."
At this the man found his voice and cried out, though he felt more
afraid and foolish than ever, and his voice sounded high and thin, like
that of a tiny child.
"I have no brother!" said the man.
The two Angels looked at each other.
"You see!" said the Angel-who-attends-to-things. "I knew how it would
be."
Then he turned to the man. "Run along back," he said, "and try to do
better next time. I left the door open for you."
And in the shaded room, while the firelight whispered to the shadows in
the corners, the doctor rose from the bedside, and spoke softly to the
nurse.
"The crisis is past," he said, "he will live."
HELL GATE
Hell Gate clanged behind the youth, and those without stood and looked
one upon another.
First came his friend, and said to the keeper of the gate:
"Let him out! he is young, and his work still to do. Who knows but he
may amend, and do it yet?"
Next came his Love, and clasped the bars, and wept upon them.
"Let him out!" she cried. "We are too young to die, and without him I
cannot live."
Last came his mother, for she had a long way to come.
"What is all this ado?" she said. "Let me in to him!" and she broke the
bars and entered.
THE THORN
When the youth started, he passed through the Forbidden Wood, and
wandered there, plucking and tasting the fruit, smelling the flowers,
evil and sweet; and as he plucked and smelled, it chanced that a thorn
entered his breast, for it lay open. He took little heed, for he was
young, and the life strong in him; so the thorn made its way in, and
presently was buried in the flesh; and he forgot it, for it gave him no
hurt.
By and by he came out of that wood, and shook the dust of it from his
feet, and set his face toward the mountains, for a voice told him that
there he should find his life and his Love. And so it fell, for as he
fared on, his Love came to meet him, and he knew her, and she him. Then
each held out arms of longing, and embraced the other tenderly,
speaking fond words; but when the maiden pressed her arms about the man,
a pang shot through his breast, bitter as death; and he trembled, for he
knew it for the piercing of the thorn.
The man set his teeth, that he might make no outcry, and then he looked
at his Love: and see! she was snow-pale, and held her heart with both
hands, as if in pain.
"What is it?" cried the man. "What hurts my Love?" and she answered, "I
know not; a pang shot through my heart, bitter as death."
"Oh, Love, what like was the pang?" cried the man; and heard her words
before she spoke; for she said, "Like the piercing of a thorn!"
THE SERPENT
Three boys were playing together in a field; and as they played, one
passing by called to them: "Beware! in the corner of that field is a
poisonous serpent, whose bite is death."
"Alas!" said one child. "How terrible, to think that anything evil
should be in a place so lovely. Let me flee from it!" and he wept, and
ran from the place.
"Why," said the second child, "should such a thing be here? what is the
reason of it?" and he found him a safe place, and sat down to ponder on
the matter.
The third child picked up a stone. "Show it to me!" he said.
IF THIS SHOULD BE
I
In the Place of Spirits, where many come seeking a home, and all who
earn shall find one, a band of child-spirits played about their door,
singing, and crowning one another with flowers. And as they played,
there drifted by a gray Shape, and stayed beside the gate, and wrung its
shadowy hands.
Said the eldest child to the Angel who was their guardian; "Dear, there
is one seeking a home; shall we call her in?"
"Oh, hush! oh, hush!" said the Angel. "You may not speak to her."
"But," said the second child, "she stops at our gate, and gazes at us
with mournful eyes. Let us call her in!"
"Oh, hush! oh, hush!" said the Angel. "You may not look at her."
"Nay!" cried the youngest; "but she holds out her arms, and makes a moan
like the wind at night. Why may we not call her in?"
Then the Angel wept, for she had been a woman.
"Must I tell you?" she cried. "It is she who should have been your
mother, and she would not."
The children gazed, with calm, bright eyes. "What is a mother?" they
asked.
"Alas! alas!" said the Angel; and her tears fell down like rain.
"Alas! alas!" moaned the gray Shape at the gate, and beat the shadow
that was her breast, and trailed away in the gathering dusk.
IF THIS SHOULD BE
II
When the Little Sister went away, it was in such haste that she left her
convent robes behind; and this troubled her so that she spoke of it to
the Angel at the Gate. "You see," she said, "I had no idea that I was
coming; I fell asleep in my cell, and woke up in this beautiful homelike
place. But these white garments are not suitable for me; could I find a
black robe, do you think?"
"Oh no!" said the Angel; "we all wear white here, and it is so much
prettier and more becoming. Besides, you must make haste, for they have
been waiting long for you."