Ferishtah's Fancies/A Camel-Driver
7. A CAMEL-DRIVER.
"How of his fate, the Pilgrims' soldier-guideCondemned" (Ferishtah questioned) "for he slewThe merchant whom he convoyed with his bales—A special treachery?""Sir, the proofs were plain:Justice was satisfied: between two boardsThe rogue was sawn asunder, rightly served."
"With all wise men's approval—mine at least." "Himself, indeed, confessed as much. 'I dieJustly' (groaned he) 'through over-greedinessWhich tempted me to rob: but grieve the mostThat he who quickened sin at slumber,—ay,Prompted and pestered me till thought grew deed,—The same is fled to Syria and is safe,Laughing at me thus left to pay for both.My comfort is that God reserves for himHell's hottest' . . . ""Idle words.""Enlighten me!Wherefore so idle? Punishment by manHas thy assent,—the word is on thy lips.By parity of reason, punishmentBy God should likelier win thy thanks and praise." "Man acts as man must: God, as God beseems.A camel-driver, when his beast will bite,Thumps her athwart the muzzle: why?""How elseInstruct the creature, mouths should munch not bite?"
"True, he is man, knows but man's trick to teach.Suppose some plain word, told her first of all,Had hindered any biting?”"Find him such,And fit the beast with understanding first!No understanding animals like RukshNowadays, Master! Till they breed on earth,For teaching—blows must serve." "Who deals the blow—What if by some rare method,—magic, say,—He saw into the biter's very soul,And knew the fault was so repented ofIt could not happen twice?""That's something: still,I hear, methinks, the driver say 'No lessTake thy fault's due! Those long-necked sisters, see,Lean all a-stretch to know if biting meetsPunishment or enjoys impunity.For their sakes—thwack!""The journey home at end,The solitary beast safe-stabled now,In comes the driver to avenge a wrongSuffered from six months since,—apparently With patience, nay, approval: when the jawsMet i' the small o' the arm, 'Ha, Ladykin,Still at thy frolics, girl of gold?' laughed he:'Eat flesh? Rye-grass content thee rather with,Whereof accept a bundle!' Now,—what change!Laughter by no means! Now ’tis 'Fiend, thy friskWas fit to find thee provender, didst judge?Behold this red-hot twy-prong, thus I stickTo hiss i' the soft of thee!'""Behold? beholdA crazy noddle, rather! Sure the bruteMight well nigh have plain speech coaxed out of tongue,And grow as voluble as Ruksh himselfAt such mad outrage. 'Could I take thy mind,Guess thy desire? If biting was offence Wherefore the rye-grass bundle, why each day'sPatting and petting, but to intimateMy playsomeness had pleased thee? Thou endowedWith reason, truly!'""Reason aims to raiseSome makeshift midway scaffold-vantage, whenceIt may, for life's brief moment, peer below:But apes omniscience? Nay! The ladder lentTo climb by, step and step, until we reachThe little foothold-rise allowed mankindTo mount on and there guess the sun's survey—Shall this avail to show them world-wide truthStretched for the sun's descrying? Reason bids'Teach, Man, thy beast his duty first of allOr last of all, with blows if blows must be,— How else accomplish teaching?' Reason adds'Before man's First, and after man's poor Last,God operated and will operate.'—Process of which man merely knows this much,—That nowise it resembles man's at all,Teaching or punishing.""It follows, then,That any malefactor I would smite With God's allowance, God himself will spare Presumably. No scape-grace? Then, rejoice Thou snatch-grace safe in Syria!""Friend, such view Is but man's wonderful and wide mistake. Man lumps his kind i' the mass: God singles thence Unit by unit. Thou and God exist— So think!—for certain: think the mass—mankind—Disparts, disperses, leaves thyself alone!Ask thy lone soul what laws are plain to thee,—Thee and no other,—stand or fall by them!That is the part for thee: regard all elseFor what it may be—Time's illusion. ThisBe sure of—ignorance that sins, is safe.No punishment like knowledge! Instance, now!My father's choicest treasure was a bookWherein he, day by day and year by year,Recorded gains of wisdom for my sakeWhen I should grow to manhood. While a child,Coming upon the casket where it layUnguarded,—what did I but toss the thingInto a fire to make more flame therewith, Meaning no harm? So acts man three-years old!I grieve now at my loss by witlessness,But guilt was none to punish. Man mature—Each word of his I lightly held, each lookI turned from-wish that wished in vain—nay, willThat willed and yet went all to waste—’tis theseRankle like fire. Forgiveness? rather grantForgetfulness! The past is past and lost.However near I stand in his regard,So much the nearer had I stood by stepsOffered the feet which rashly spurned their help.That I call Hell; why further punishment?
When I vexed you and you chid me,And I owned my fault and turnedMy cheek the way you bid me,And confessed the blow well earned,—
My comfort all the while was—Fault was faulty—near, not quite!Do you wonder why the smile was?O'erpunished wrong grew right.
But faults you ne'er suspected,Nay, praised, no faults at all,―Those would you had detected—Crushed eggs whence snakes could crawl!