Henry Ossawa Tanner, The Resurrection of Lazarus, 1896
I
When Lazarus rose from the grave, after three days and nights in themysterious thraldom of death, and returned alive to his home, it was along time before any one noticed the evil peculiarities in him thatwere later to make his very name terrible. His friends and relativeswere jubilant that he had come back to life. They surrounded him withtenderness, they were lavish of their eager attentions, spending thegreatest care upon his food and drink and the new garments they madefor him. They clad him gorgeously in the glowing colours of hope andlaughter, and when, arrayed like a bridegroom, he sat at table withthem again, ate again, and drank again, they wept fondly and summonedthe neighbours to look upon the man miraculously raised from the dead.
The neighbours came and were moved with joy. Strangers arrived fromdistant cities and villages to worship the miracle. They burst intostormy exclamations, and buzzed around the house of Mary and Martha,like so many bees.
That which was new in Lazarus' face and gestures they explainednaturally, as the traces of his severe illness and the shock he hadpassed through. It was evident that the disintegration of the body hadbeen halted by a miraculous power, but that the restoration had notbeen complete; that death had left upon his face and body the effectof an artist's unfinished sketch seen through a thin glass. On histemples, under his eyes, and in the hollow of his cheek lay a thick,earthy blue. His fingers were blue, too, and under his nails, whichhad grown long in the grave, the blue had turned livid. Here and thereon his lips and body, the skin, blistered in the grave, had burst openand left reddish glistening cracks, as if covered with a thin, glassyslime. And he had grown exceedingly stout. His body was horriblybloated and suggested the fetid, damp smell of putrefaction. But thecadaverous, heavy odour that clung to his burial garments and, as itseemed, to his very body, soon wore off, and after some time the blueof his hands and face softened, and the reddish cracks of his skinsmoothed out, though they never disappeared completely. Such was theaspect of Lazarus in his second life. It looked natural only to thosewho had seen him buried.
Not merely Lazarus' face, but his very character, it seemed, hadchanged; though it astonished no one and did not attract the attentionit deserved. Before his death Lazarus had been cheerful and careless,a lover of laughter and harmless jest. It was because of his goodhumour, pleasant and equable, his freedom from meanness and gloom,that he had been so beloved by the Master. Now he was grave andsilent; neither he himself jested nor did he laugh at the jests ofothers; and the words he spoke occasionally were simple, ordinary andnecessary words--words as much devoid of sense and depth as are thesounds with which an animal expresses pain and pleasure, thirst andhunger. Such words a man may speak all his life and no one would everknow the sorrows and joys that dwelt within him.
Thus it was that Lazarus sat at the festive table among his friendsand relatives--his face the face of a corpse over which, for threedays, death had reigned in darkness, his garments gorgeous andfestive, glittering with gold, bloody-red and purple; his mien heavyand silent. He was horribly changed and strange, but as yetundiscovered. In high waves, now mild, now stormy, the festivitieswent on around him. Warm glances of love caressed his face, still coldwith the touch of the grave; and a friend's warm hand patted hisbluish, heavy hand. And the music played joyous tunes mingled of thesounds of the tympanum, the pipe, the zither and the dulcimer. It wasas if bees were humming, locusts buzzing and birds singing over thehappy home of Mary and Martha.
II
Some one recklessly lifted the veil. By one breath of an uttered wordhe destroyed the serene charm, and uncovered the truth in its uglynakedness. No thought was clearly defined in his mind, when his lipssmilingly asked: "Why do you not tell us, Lazarus, what was There?"And all became silent, struck with the question. Only now it seemed tohave occurred to them that for three days Lazarus had been dead; andthey looked with curiosity, awaiting an answer. But Lazarus remainedsilent.
"You will not tell us?" wondered the inquirer. "Is it so terribleThere?"
Again his thought lagged behind his words. Had it preceded them, hewould not have asked the question, for, at the very moment he utteredit, his heart sank with a dread fear. All grew restless; they awaitedthe words of Lazarus anxiously. But he was silent, cold and severe,and his eyes were cast down. And now, as if for the first time, theyperceived the horrible bluishness of his face and the loathsomecorpulence of his body. On the table, as if forgotten by Lazarus, layhis livid blue hand, and all eyes were riveted upon it, as thoughexpecting the desired answer from that hand. The musicians stillplayed; then silence fell upon them, too, and the gay sounds dieddown, as scattered coals are extinguished by water. The pipe becamemute, and the ringing tympanum and the murmuring dulcimer; and asthough a chord were broken, as though song itself were dying, thezither echoed a trembling broken sound. Then all was quiet.
"You will not?" repeated the inquirer, unable to restrain his babblingtongue. Silence reigned, and the livid blue hand lay motionless. Itmoved slightly, and the company sighed with relief and raised theireyes. Lazarus, risen from the dead, was looking straight at them,embracing all with one glance, heavy and terrible.
This was on the third day after Lazarus had arisen from the grave.Since then many had felt that his gaze was the gaze of destruction,but neither those who had been forever crushed by it, nor those who inthe prime of life (mysterious even as death) had found the will toresist his glance, could ever explain the terror that lay immovable inthe depths of his black pupils. He looked quiet and simple. One feltthat he had no intention to hide anything, but also no intention totell anything. His look was cold, as of one who is entirelyindifferent to all that is alive. And many careless people who pressedaround him, and did not notice him, later learned with wonder and fearthe name of this stout, quiet man who brushed against them with hissumptuous, gaudy garments. The sun did not stop shining when helooked, neither did the fountain cease playing, and the Eastern skyremained cloudless and blue as always; but the man who fell under hisinscrutable gaze could no longer feel the sun, nor hear the fountain,nor recognise his native sky. Sometimes he would cry bitterly,sometimes tear his hair in despair and madly call for help; butgenerally it happened that the men thus stricken by the gaze ofLazarus began to fade away listlessly and quietly and pass into a slowdeath lasting many long years. They died in the presence of everybody,colourless, haggard and gloomy, like trees withering on rocky ground.Those who screamed in madness sometimes came back to life; but theothers, never.
"So you will not tell us, Lazarus, what you saw There?" the inquirerrepeated for the third time. But now his voice was dull, and a dead,grey weariness looked stupidly from out his eyes. The faces of allpresent were also covered by the same dead grey weariness like a mist.The guests stared at one another stupidly, not knowing why they hadcome together or why they sat around this rich table. They stoppedtalking, and vaguely felt it was time to leave; but they could notovercome the lassitude that spread through their muscles. So theycontinued to sit there, each one isolated, like little dim lightsscattered in the darkness of night.
The musicians were paid to play, and they again took up theinstruments, and again played gay or mournful airs. But it was musicmade to order, always the same tunes, and the guests listenedwonderingly. Why was this music necessary, they thought, why was itnecessary and what good did it do for people to pull at strings andblow their cheeks into thin pipes, and produce varied andstrange-sounding noises?
"How badly they play!" said some one.
The musicians were insulted and left. Then the guests departed one byone, for it was nearing night. And when the quiet darkness envelopedthem, and it became easier to breathe, the image of Lazarus suddenlyarose before each one in stern splendour. There he stood, with theblue face of a corpse and the raiment of a bridegroom, sumptuous andresplendent, in his eyes that cold stare in the depths of which lurkedThe Horrible! They stood still as if turned into stone. The darknesssurrounded them, and in the midst of this darkness flamed up thehorrible apparition, the supernatural vision, of the one who for threedays had lain under the measureless power of death. Three days he hadbeen dead. Thrice had the sun risen and set--and he had lain dead. Thechildren had played, the water had murmured as it streamed over therocks, the hot dust had clouded the highway--and he had been dead. Andnow he was among men again--touched them--looked at them--looked atthem! And through the black rings of his pupils, as through darkglasses, the unfathomable There gazed upon humanity.
III
No one took care of Lazarus, and no friends or kindred remained withhim. Only the great desert, enfolding the Holy City, came close to thethreshold of his abode. It entered his home, and lay down on his couchlike a spouse, and put out all the fires. No one cared for Lazarus.One after the other went away, even his sisters, Mary and Martha. Fora long while Martha did not want to leave him, for she knew not whowould nurse him or take care of him; and she cried and prayed. But onenight, when the wind was roaming about the desert, and the rustlingcypress trees were bending over the roof, she dressed herself quietly,and quietly went away. Lazarus probably heard how the door wasslammed--it had not shut properly and the wind kept knocking itcontinually against the post--but he did not rise, did not go out, didnot try to find out the reason. And the whole night until the morningthe cypress trees hissed over his head, and the door swung to and fro,allowing the cold, greedily prowling desert to enter his dwelling.Everybody shunned him as though he were a leper. They wanted to put abell on his neck to avoid meeting him. But some one, turning pale,remarked it would be terrible if at night, under the windows, oneshould happen to hear Lazarus' bell, and all grew pale and assented.
Since he did nothing for himself, he would probably have starved hadnot his neighbours, in trepidation, saved some food for him. Childrenbrought it to him. They did not fear him, neither did they laugh athim in the innocent cruelty in which children often laugh atunfortunates. They were indifferent to him, and Lazarus showed thesame indifference to them. He showed no desire to thank them for theirservices; he did not try to pat the dark hands and look into thesimple shining little eyes. Abandoned to the ravages of time and thedesert, his house was falling to ruins, and his hungry, bleating goatshad long been scattered among his neighbours. His wedding garments hadgrown old. He wore them without changing them, as he had donned themon that happy day when the musicians played. He did not see thedifference between old and new, between torn and whole. The brilliantcolours were burnt and faded; the vicious dogs of the city and thesharp thorns of the desert had rent the fine clothes to shreds.
During the day, when the sun beat down mercilessly upon all livingthings, and even the scorpions hid under the stones, convulsed with amad desire to sting, he sat motionless in the burning rays, liftinghigh his blue face and shaggy wild beard.
While yet the people were unafraid to speak to him, same one had askedhim: "Poor Lazarus! Do you find it pleasant to sit so, and look at thesun?" And he answered: "Yes, it is pleasant."
The thought suggested itself to people that the cold of the three daysin the grave had been so intense, its darkness so deep, that there wasnot in all the earth enough heat or light to warm Lazarus and lightenthe gloom of his eyes; and inquirers turned away with a sigh.
And when the setting sun, flat and purple-red, descended to earth,Lazarus went into the desert and walked straight toward it, as thoughintending to reach it. Always he walked directly toward the sun, andthose who tried to follow him and find out what he did at night in thedesert had indelibly imprinted upon their mind's vision the blacksilhouette of a tall, stout man against the red background of animmense disk. The horrors of the night drove them away, and so theynever found out what Lazarus did in the desert; but the image of theblack form against the red was burned forever into their brains. Likean animal with a cinder in its eye which furiously rubs its muzzleagainst its paws, they foolishly rubbed their eyes; but the impressionleft by Lazarus was ineffaceable, forgotten only in death.
There were people living far away who never saw Lazarus and only heardof him. With an audacious curiosity which is stronger than fear andfeeds on fear, with a secret sneer in their hearts, some of them cameto him one day as he basked in the sun, and entered into conversationwith him. At that time his appearance had changed for the better andwas not so frightful. At first the visitors snapped their fingers andthought disapprovingly of the foolish inhabitants of the Holy City.But when the short talk came to an end and they went home, theirexpression was such that the inhabitants of the Holy City at once knewtheir errand and said: "Here go some more madmen at whom Lazarus haslooked." The speakers raised their hands in silent pity.
Other visitors came, among them brave warriors in clinking armour, whoknew not fear, and happy youths who made merry with laughter and song.Busy merchants, jingling their coins, ran in for awhile, and proudattendants at the Temple placed their staffs at Lazarus' door. But noone returned the same as he came. A frightful shadow fell upon theirsouls, and gave a new appearance to the old familiar world.
Those who felt any desire to speak, after they had been stricken bythe gaze of Lazarus, described the change that had come over themsomewhat like this:
All objects seen by the eye and palpable to the hand became empty,light and transparent, as though they were light shadows in thedarkness; and this darkness enveloped the whole universe. It wasdispelled neither by the sun, nor by the moon, nor by the stars, butembraced the earth like a mother, and clothed it in a boundless blackveil.
Into all bodies it penetrated, even into iron and stone; and theparticles of the body lost their unity and became lonely. Even to theheart of the particles it penetrated, and the particles of theparticles became lonely.
The vast emptiness which surrounds the universe, was not filled withthings seen, with sun or moon or stars; it stretched boundless,penetrating everywhere, disuniting everything, body from body,particle from particle.
In emptiness the trees spread their roots, themselves empty; inemptiness rose phantom temples, palaces and houses--all empty; and inthe emptiness moved restless Man, himself empty and light, like ashadow.
There was no more a sense of time; the beginning of all things andtheir end merged into one. In the very moment when a building wasbeing erected and one could hear the builders striking with theirhammers, one seemed already to see its ruins, and then emptiness wherethe ruins were.
A man was just born, and funeral candles were already lighted at hishead, and then were extinguished; and soon there was emptiness wherebefore had been the man and the candles.
And surrounded by Darkness and Empty Waste, Man trembled hopelesslybefore the dread of the Infinite.
So spoke those who had a desire to speak. But much more could probablyhave been told by those who did not want to talk, and who died insilence.
IV
At that time there lived in Rome a celebrated sculptor by the name ofAurelius. Out of clay, marble and bronze he created forms of gods andmen of such beauty that this beauty was proclaimed immortal. But hehimself was not satisfied, and said there was a supreme beauty that hehad never succeeded in expressing in marble or bronze. "I have not yetgathered the radiance of the moon," he said; "I have not yet caughtthe glare of the sun. There is no soul in my marble, there is no lifein my beautiful bronze." And when by moonlight he would slowly wanderalong the roads, crossing the black shadows of the cypress-trees, hiswhite tunic flashing in the moonlight, those he met used to laughgood-naturedly and say: "Is it moonlight that you are gathering,Aurelius? Why did you not bring some baskets along?"
And he, too, would laugh and point to his eyes and say: "Here are thebaskets in which I gather the light of the moon and the radiance ofthe sun."
And that was the truth. In his eyes shone moon and sun. But he couldnot transmit the radiance to marble. Therein lay the greatest tragedyof his life. He was a descendant of an ancient race of patricians, hada good wife and children, and except in this one respect, lackednothing.
When the dark rumour about Lazarus reached him, he consulted his wifeand friends and decided to make the long voyage to Judea, in orderthat he might look upon the man miraculously raised from the dead. Hefelt lonely in those days and hoped on the way to renew his jadedenergies. What they told him about Lazarus did not frighten him. Hehad meditated much upon death. He did not like it, nor did he likethose who tried to harmonise it with life. On this side, beautifullife; on the other, mysterious death, he reasoned, and no better lotcould befall a man than to live--to enjoy life and the beauty ofliving. And he already had conceived a desire to convince Lazarus ofthe truth of this view and to return his soul to life even as his bodyhad been returned. This task did not appear impossible, for thereports about Lazarus, fearsome and strange as they were, did not tellthe whole truth about him, but only carried a vague warning againstsomething awful.
Lazarus was getting up from a stone to follow in the path of thesetting sun, on the evening when the rich Roman, accompanied by anarmed slave, approached him, and in a ringing voice called to him:"Lazarus!"
Lazarus saw a proud and beautiful face, made radiant by fame, andwhite garments and precious jewels shining in the sunlight. The ruddyrays of the sun lent to the head and face a likeness to dimly shiningbronze--that was what Lazarus saw. He sank back to his seatobediently, and wearily lowered his eyes.
"It is true you are not beautiful, my poor Lazarus," said the Romanquietly, playing with his gold chain. "You are even frightful, my poorfriend; and death was not lazy the day when you so carelessly fellinto its arms. But you are as fat as a barrel, and 'Fat people are notbad,' as the great Caesar said. I do not understand why people are soafraid of you. You will permit me to stay with you over night? It isalready late, and I have no abode."
Nobody had ever asked Lazarus to be allowed to pass the night withhim.
"I have no bed," said he.
"I am somewhat of a warrior and can sleep sitting," replied the Roman."We shall make a light."
"I have no light."
"Then we will converse in the darkness like two friends. I suppose youhave some wine?"
"I have no wine."
The Roman laughed.
"Now I understand why you are so gloomy and why you do not like yoursecond life. No wine? Well, we shall do without. You know there arewords that go to one's head even as Falernian wine."
With a motion of his head he dismissed the slave, and they were alone.And again the sculptor spoke, but it seemed as though the sinking sunhad penetrated into his words. They faded, pale and empty, as iftrembling on weak feet, as if slipping and falling, drunk with thewine of anguish and despair. And black chasms appeared between the twomen--like remote hints of vast emptiness and vast darkness.
"Now I am your guest and you will not ill-treat me, Lazarus!" said theRoman. "Hospitality is binding even upon those who have been threedays dead. Three days, I am told, you were in the grave. It must havebeen cold there... and it is from there that you have brought this badhabit of doing without light and wine. I like a light. It gets dark soquickly here. Your eyebrows and forehead have an interesting line:even as the ruins of castles covered with the ashes of an earthquake.But why in such strange, ugly clothes? I have seen the bridegrooms ofyour country, they wear clothes like that--such ridiculousclothes--such awful garments... Are you a bridegroom?"
Already the sun had disappeared. A gigantic black shadow wasapproaching fast from the west, as if prodigious bare feet wererustling over the sand. And the chill breezes stole up behind.
"In the darkness you seem even bigger, Lazarus, as though you hadgrown stouter in these few minutes. Do you feed on darkness,perchance?... And I would like a light... just a small light... just asmall light. And I am cold. The nights here are so barbarously cold...If it were not so dark, I should say you were looking at me, Lazarus.Yes, it seems, you are looking. You are looking. You are looking atme!... I feel it--now you are smiling."
The night had come, and a heavy blackness filled the air.
"How good it will be when the sun rises again to-morrow... You know Iam a great sculptor... so my friends call me. I create, yes, they sayI create, but for that daylight is necessary. I give life to coldmarble. I melt the ringing bronze in the fire, in a bright, hot fire.Why did you touch me with your hand?"
"Come," said Lazarus, "you are my guest." And they went into thehouse. And the shadows of the long evening fell on the earth...
The slave at last grew tired waiting for his master, and when the sunstood high he came to the house. And he saw, directly under itsburning rays, Lazarus and his master sitting close together. Theylooked straight up and were silent.
The slave wept and cried aloud: "Master, what ails you, Master!"
The same day Aurelius left for Rome. The whole way he was thoughtfuland silent, attentively examining everything, the people, the ship,and the sea, as though endeavouring to recall something. On the sea agreat storm overtook them, and all the while Aurelius remained on deckand gazed eagerly at the approaching and falling waves. When hereached home his family were shocked at the terrible change in hisdemeanour, but he calmed them with the words: "I have found it!"
In the dusty clothes which he had worn during the entire journey andhad not changed, he began his work, and the marble ringingly respondedto the resounding blows of the hammer. Long and eagerly he worked,admitting no one. At last, one morning, he announced that the work wasready, and gave instructions that all his friends, and the severecritics and judges of art, be called together. Then he donned gorgeousgarments, shining with gold, glowing with the purple of the byssin.
"Here is what I have created," he said thoughtfully.
His friends looked, and immediately the shadow of deep sorrow coveredtheir faces. It was a thing monstrous, possessing none of the formsfamiliar to the eye, yet not devoid of a hint of some new unknownform. On a thin tortuous little branch, or rather an ugly likeness ofone, lay crooked, strange, unsightly, shapeless heaps of somethingturned outside in, or something turned inside out--wild fragmentswhich seemed to be feebly trying to get away from themselves. And,accidentally, under one of the wild projections, they noticed awonderfully sculptured butterfly, with transparent wings, trembling asthough with a weak longing to fly.
"Why that wonderful butterfly, Aurelius?" timidly asked some one.
"I do not know," answered the sculptor.
The truth had to be told, and one of his friends, the one who lovedAurelius best, said: "This is ugly, my poor friend. It must bedestroyed. Give me the hammer." And with two blows he destroyed themonstrous mass, leaving only the wonderfully sculptured butterfly.
After that Aurelius created nothing. He looked with absoluteindifference at marble and at bronze and at his own divine creations,in which dwelt immortal beauty. In the hope of breathing into him onceagain the old flame of inspiration, with the idea of awakening hisdead soul, his friends led him to see the beautiful creations ofothers, but he remained indifferent and no smile warmed his closedlips. And only after they spoke to him much and long of beauty, hewould reply wearily:
"But all this is--a lie."
And in the daytime, when the sun was shining, he would go into hisrich and beautifully laid-out garden, and finding a place where therewas no shadow, would expose his bare head and his dull eyes to theglitter and burning heat of the sun. Red and white butterfliesfluttered around; down into the marble cistern ran splashing waterfrom the crooked mouth of a blissfully drunken Satyr; but he satmotionless, like a pale shadow of that other one who, in a far land,at the very gates of the stony desert, also sat motionless under thefiery sun.
V
And it came about finally that Lazarus was summoned to Rome by thegreat Augustus.
They dressed him in gorgeous garments as though it had been ordainedthat he was to remain a bridegroom to an unknown bride until the veryday of his death. It was as if an old coffin, rotten and fallingapart, were regilded over and over, and gay tassels were hung on it.And solemnly they conducted him in gala attire, as though in truth itwere a bridal procession, the runners loudly sounding the trumpet thatthe way be made for the ambassadors of the Emperor. But the roadsalong which he passed were deserted. His entire native land cursed theexecrable name of Lazarus, the man miraculously brought to life, andthe people scattered at the mere report of his horrible approach. Thetrumpeters blew lonely blasts, and only the desert answered with adying echo.
Then they carried him across the sea on the saddest and most gorgeousship that was ever mirrored in the azure waves of the Mediterranean.There were many people aboard, but the ship was silent and still as acoffin, and the water seemed to moan as it parted before the shortcurved prow. Lazarus sat lonely, baring his head to the sun, andlistening in silence to the splashing of the waters. Further away theseamen and the ambassadors gathered like a crowd of distressedshadows. If a thunderstorm had happened to burst upon them at thattime or the wind had overwhelmed the red sails, the ship wouldprobably have perished, for none of those who were on her had strengthor desire enough to fight for life. With supreme effort some went tothe side of the ship and eagerly gazed at the blue, transparent abyss.Perhaps they imagined they saw a naiad flashing a pink shoulderthrough the waves, or an insanely joyous and drunken centaur gallopingby, splashing up the water with his hoofs. But the sea was desertedand mute, and so was the watery abyss.
Listlessly Lazarus set foot on the streets of the Eternal City, asthough all its riches, all the majesty of its gigantic edifices, allthe lustre and beauty and music of refined life, were simply the echoof the wind in the desert, or the misty images of hot running sand.Chariots whirled by; the crowd of strong, beautiful, haughty menpassed on, builders of the Eternal City and proud partakers of itslife; songs rang out; fountains laughed; pearly laughter of womenfilled the air, while the drunkard philosophised and the sober onessmilingly listened; horseshoes rattled on the pavement. And surroundedon all sides by glad sounds, a fat, heavy man moved through the centreof the city like a cold spot of silence, sowing in his path grief,anger and vague, carking distress. Who dared to be sad in Rome?indignantly demanded frowning citizens; and in two days theswift-tongued Rome knew of Lazarus, the man miraculously raised fromthe grave, and timidly evaded him.
There were many brave men ready to try their strength, and at theirsenseless call Lazarus came obediently. The Emperor was so engrossedwith state affairs that he delayed receiving the visitor, and forseven days Lazarus moved among the people.
A jovial drunkard met him with a smile on his red lips. "Drink,Lazarus, drink!" he cried, "Would not Augustus laugh to see youdrink!" And naked, besotted women laughed, and decked the blue handsof Lazarus with rose-leaves. But the drunkard looked into the eyes ofLazarus--and his joy ended forever. Thereafter he was always drunk. Hedrank no more, but was drunk all the time, shadowed by fearful dreams,instead of the joyous reveries that wine gives. Fearful dreams becamethe food of his broken spirit. Fearful dreams held him day and nightin the mists of monstrous fantasy, and death itself was no morefearful than the apparition of its fierce precursor.
Lazarus came to a youth and his lass who loved each other and werebeautiful in their love. Proudly and strongly holding in his arms hisbeloved one, the youth said, with gentle pity: "Look at us, Lazarus,and rejoice with us. Is there anything stronger than love?"
And Lazarus looked at them. And their whole life they continued tolove one another, but their love became mournful and gloomy, even asthose cypress trees over the tombs that feed their roots on theputrescence of the grave, and strive in vain in the quiet evening hourto touch the sky with their pointed tops. Hurled by fathomlesslife-forces into each other's arms, they mingled their kisses withtears, their joy with pain, and only succeeded in realising the morevividly a sense of their slavery to the silent Nothing. Foreverunited, forever parted, they flashed like sparks, and like sparks wentout in boundless darkness.
Lazarus came to a proud sage, and the sage said to him: "I alreadyknow all the horrors that you may tell me, Lazarus. With what else canyou terrify me?"
Only a few moments passed before the sage realised that the knowledgeof the horrible is not the horrible, and that the sight of death isnot death. And he felt that in the eyes of the Infinite wisdom andfolly are the same, for the Infinite knows them not. And theboundaries between knowledge and ignorance, between truth andfalsehood, between top and bottom, faded and his shapeless thought wassuspended in emptiness. Then he grasped his grey head in his hands andcried out insanely: "I cannot think! I cannot think!"
Thus it was that under the cool gaze of Lazarus, the man miraculouslyraised from the dead, all that serves to affirm life, its sense andits joys, perished. And people began to say it was dangerous to allowhim to see the Emperor; that it were better to kill him and bury himsecretly, and swear he had disappeared. Swords were sharpened andyouths devoted to the welfare of the people announced their readinessto become assassins, when Augustus upset the cruel plans by demandingthat Lazarus appear before him.
Even though Lazarus could not be kept away, it was felt that the heavyimpression conveyed by his face might be somewhat softened. With thatend in view expert painters, barbers and artists were secured whoworked the whole night on Lazarus' head. His beard was trimmed andcurled. The disagreeable and deadly bluishness of his hands and facewas covered up with paint; his hands were whitened, his cheeks rouged.The disgusting wrinkles of suffering that ridged his old face werepatched up and painted, and on the smooth surface, wrinkles ofgood-nature and laughter, and of pleasant, good-humoured cheeriness,were laid on artistically with fine brushes.
Lazarus submitted indifferently to all they did with him, and soon wastransformed into a stout, nice-looking old man, for all the world aquiet and good-humoured grandfather of numerous grandchildren. Helooked as though the smile with which he told funny stories had notleft his lips, as though a quiet tenderness still lay hidden in thecorner of his eyes. But the wedding-dress they did not dare to takeoff; and they could not change his eyes--the dark, terrible eyes fromout of which stared the incomprehensible There.
VI
Lazarus was untouched by the magnificence of the imperial apartments.He remained stolidly indifferent, as though he saw no contrast betweenhis ruined house at the edge of the desert and the solid, beautifulpalace of stone. Under his feet the hard marble of the floor took onthe semblance of the moving sands of the desert, and to his eyes thethrongs of gaily dressed, haughty men were as unreal as the emptinessof the air. They looked not into his face as he passed by, fearing tocome under the awful bane of his eyes; but when the sound of his heavysteps announced that he had passed, heads were lifted, and eyesexamined with timid curiosity the figure of the corpulent, tall,slightly stooping old man, as he slowly passed into the heart of theimperial palace. If death itself had appeared men would not havefeared it so much; for hitherto death had been known to the dead only,and life to the living only, and between these two there had been nobridge. But this strange being knew death, and that knowledge of hiswas felt to be mysterious and cursed. "He will kill our great, divineAugustus," men cried with horror, and they hurled curses after him.Slowly and stolidly he passed them by, penetrating ever deeper intothe palace.
Caesar knew already who Lazarus was, and was prepared to meet him. Hewas a courageous man; he felt his power was invincible, and in thefateful encounter with the man "wonderfully raised from the dead" herefused to lean on other men's weak help. Man to man, face to face, hemet Lazarus.
"Do not fix your gaze on me, Lazarus," he commanded. "I have heardthat your head is like the head of Medusa, and turns into stone allupon whom you look. But I should like to have a close look at you, andto talk to you before I turn into stone," he added in a spirit ofplayfulness that concealed his real misgivings.
Approaching him, he examined closely Lazarus' face and his strangefestive clothes. Though his eyes were sharp and keen, he was deceivedby the skilful counterfeit.
"Well, your appearance is not terrible, venerable sir. But all theworse for men, when the terrible takes on such a venerable andpleasant appearance. Now let us talk."
Augustus sat down, and as much by glance as by words began thediscussion. "Why did you not salute me when you entered?"
Lazarus answered indifferently: "I did not know it was necessary."
"You are a Christian?"
"No."
Augustus nodded approvingly. "That is good. I do not like theChristians. They shake the tree of life, forbidding it to bear fruit,and they scatter to the wind its fragrant blossoms. But who are you?"
With some effort Lazarus answered: "I was dead."
"I heard about that. But who are you now?"
Lazarus' answer came slowly. Finally he said again, listlessly andindistinctly: "I was dead."
"Listen to me, stranger," said the Emperor sharply, giving expressionto what had been in his mind before. "My empire is an empire of theliving; my people are a people of the living and not of the dead. Youare superfluous here. I do not know who you are, I do not know whatyou have seen There, but if you lie, I hate your lies, and if you tellthe truth, I hate your truth. In my heart I feel the pulse of life; inmy hands I feel power, and my proud thoughts, like eagles, fly throughspace. Behind my back, under the protection of my authority, under theshadow of the laws I have created, men live and labour and rejoice. Doyou hear this divine harmony of life? Do you hear the war cry that menhurl into the face of the future, challenging it to strife?"
Augustus extended his arms reverently and solemnly cried out: "Blessedart thou, Great Divine Life!"
But Lazarus was silent, and the Emperor continued more severely: "Youare not wanted here. Pitiful remnant, half devoured of death, you fillmen with distress and aversion to life. Like a caterpillar on thefields, you are gnawing away at the full seed of joy, exuding theslime of despair and sorrow. Your truth is like a rusted sword in thehands of a night assassin, and I shall condemn you to death as anassassin. But first I want to look into your eyes. Mayhap only cowardsfear them, and brave men are spurred on to struggle and victory. Thenwill you merit not death but a reward. Look at me, Lazarus."
At first it seemed to divine Augustus as if a friend were looking athim, so soft, so alluring, so gently fascinating was the gaze ofLazarus. It promised not horror but quiet rest, and the Infinite dweltthere as a fond mistress, a compassionate sister, a mother. And everstronger grew its gentle embrace, until he felt, as it were, thebreath of a mouth hungry for kisses... Then it seemed as if iron bonesprotruded in a ravenous grip, and closed upon him in an iron band; andcold nails touched his heart, and slowly, slowly sank into it.
"It pains me," said divine Augustus, growing pale; "but look, Lazarus,look!"
Ponderous gates, shutting off eternity, appeared to be slowly swingingopen, and through the growing aperture poured in, coldly and calmly,the awful horror of the Infinite. Boundless Emptiness and BoundlessGloom entered like two shadows, extinguishing the sun, removing theground from under the feet, and the cover from over the head. And thepain in his icy heart ceased.
"Look at me, look at me, Lazarus!" commanded Augustus, staggering...
Time ceased and the beginning of things came perilously near to theend. The throne of Augustus, so recently erected, fell to pieces, andemptiness took the place of the throne and of Augustus. Rome fellsilently into ruins. A new city rose in its place, and it too waserased by emptiness. Like phantom giants, cities, kingdoms, andcountries swiftly fell and disappeared into emptiness--swallowed up inthe black maw of the Infinite...
"Cease," commanded the Emperor. Already the accent of indifference wasin his voice. His arms hung powerless, and his eagle eyes flashed andwere dimmed again, struggling against overwhelming darkness.
"You have killed me, Lazarus," he said drowsily.
These words of despair saved him. He thought of the people, whoseshield he was destined to be, and a sharp, redeeming pang pierced hisdull heart. He thought of them doomed to perish, and he was filledwith anguish. First they seemed bright shadows in the gloom of theInfinite.--How terrible! Then they appeared as fragile vessels withlife-agitated blood, and hearts that knew both sorrow and greatjoy.--And he thought of them with tenderness.
And so thinking and feeling, inclining the scales now to the side oflife, now to the side of death, he slowly returned to life, to find inits suffering and joy a refuge from the gloom, emptiness and fear ofthe Infinite.
"No, you did not kill me, Lazarus," said he firmly. "But I will killyou. Go!"
Evening came and divine Augustus partook of food and drink with greatjoy. But there were moments when his raised arm would remain suspendedin the air, and the light of his shining, eager eyes was dimmed. Itseemed as if an icy wave of horror washed against his feet. He wasvanquished but not killed, and coldly awaited his doom, like a blackshadow. His nights were haunted by horror, but the bright days stillbrought him the joys, as well as the sorrows, of life.
Next day, by order of the Emperor, they burned out Lazarus' eyes withhot irons and sent him home. Even Augustus dared not kill him.
* * * * *Lazarus returned to the desert and the desert received him with thebreath of the hissing wind and the ardour of the glowing sun. Again hesat on the stone with matted beard uplifted; and two black holes,where the eyes had once been, looked dull and horrible at the sky. Inthe distance the Holy City surged and roared restlessly, but near himall was deserted and still. No one approached the place where Lazarus,miraculously raised from the dead, passed his last days, for hisneighbours had long since abandoned their homes. His cursed knowledge,driven by the hot irons from his eyes deep into the brain, lay therein ambush; as if from ambush it might spring out upon men with athousand unseen eyes. No one dared to look at Lazarus.
And in the evening, when the sun, swollen crimson and growing larger,bent its way toward the west, blind Lazarus slowly groped after it. Hestumbled against stones and fell; corpulent and feeble, he roseheavily and walked on; and against the red curtain of sunset his darkform and outstretched arms gave him the semblance of a cross.
It happened once that he went and never returned. Thus ended thesecond life of Lazarus, who for three days had been in the mysteriousthraldom of death and then was miraculously raised from the dead.
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