A Parody Outline of History | Page 8

be comforted for many and many a day. And unexplainably curious to Father Bernadino was his absolute and complete failure as a royal instructor in geography, for Father Bernadino had taught for fifty-two years at the University.
And so it was that Colombo sat alone in the cabin of the ship which carried him towards the land of his imagining. And strange and somewhat fearsome it was to the sailors to see their captain sitting thus motionless night after night, for already had they left the Canaries far behind and some there were who said that a madman commanded their ship, and others who whispered of horrible monsters in these western seas.
And the tale tells how one night Colombo observed across his table one who had not been sitting there a moment before and whose hair was strangely red.
"Well now, truly, sir", said Colombo, "This is very curious. For I do not remember seeing you among the crew nor were you ever at the court, and on the whole", said Colombo, "your red hair and your sneering grin interrupt my dreams, and dreams", said Colombo, "are all that I have left."
"For know you, sir", continued he to the stranger who did not speak, "that on this earth man has been able to endure only by playing the ape to his dreams. And in every generation", said Colombo, "there have been those who dreamed of beautiful things and in every age there have been those who caught some glimpse of that perfect beauty which the Greeks call Helen, and to have seen Helen", said Colombo, "is to have been touched with divine and unbearable madness."
And it became strangely quiet in the cabin as Colombo continued:
"And those authors who wrote perfectly of beautiful dreams", said he, "will, perchance, endure, and those who saw only men as they are, will perish--for so has it been in the past and so will it be in the future. All of which", said Colombo, "is a rather tiresome and pedantic excuse for the fact that I am about to read you my own poem."
And Colombo read to the stranger the dream of the land of Colombo's imagining, and when he had finished the stranger smiled and shook his head sadly.
"Come, now," said Colombo, somewhat hurt. "Do not, I pray you, pretend to like it unless you really do. Of course it is not at all the kind of thing that will sell, is it-- and the metre must be patched up in places, don't you think? And some of the most beautiful passages would never be permitted by the censor--but still--" and Colombo paused hopefully, for it was Colombo's poem and into it he had poured the heart of his life and it seemed to him now, more than ever, a beautiful thing.
The stranger handed Colombo a book.
"There", said he, "is the land of your imagining", and in his eyes gleamed a curious sardonic mockery.
And Colombo read the book. And when he had finished his face was grey as are old ashes in ancient urns, and about the mouth of him whom men called the Dreamer were curious hard lines.
"Now, by Heaven", said Colombo brandishing his sword Impavide, "you lie. And your Gopher Prairie is a lie. And you are all, all contemptible, you who dip your pens in tracing ink and seek to banish beautiful dreams from the world."
But the red-haired stranger had vanished and Colombo found that he was alone and to Colombo the world seemed cheerless and as a place that none has lived in for a long time.
"Now this is curious", mused Colombo, "for I have evidently been dreaming and a more horrible dream have I never had, and I think", said Colombo, "that while all this quite certainly did not actually take place, yet that grinning red head has upset me horribly and on the whole", said Colombo, "I believe the safest course would be to put back at once for Spain, for certainly I have no desire to take the remotest chance of discovering anything which may in the least resemble that Gopher Prairie."
And the tale tells that as Colombo started for the deck in order that he might give the signal for the return to Spain, there came across the water from one of the other ships the faint cry of a sailor. And the sailor was waving his hat and shouting, "Land Ho!"
Thus it was that Cristofer Colombo became the discoverer of the land of his imagining, and as he stood on the deck Colombo mused.
"Now this is a sorrowful jest and a very unfair jest that is happening," said he. "For I who have dreamed a beautiful dream of the land of my imagining will quite probably henceforth be known only as the discoverer of what will turn