Concerning Letters | Page 5

again. The saffron swan of dawn, slow swimming up
the sky-river between the high roof- banks, bent her neck down through

the dark air-water to look at him staggering below her, with his still
smoking wick. No sooner did Cethru see that sunlit bird, than with a
great sigh of joy he sat him down, and at once fell asleep.
Now when the dwellers in the houses of the Vita Publica first gained
knowledge that this old man passed every night with his lanthorn up
and down their street, and when they marked those pallid gleams
gliding over the motley prospect of cesspools and garden gates, over
the sightless hovels and the rich-carved frontages of their palaces; or
saw them stay their journey and remain suspended like a handful of
daffodils held up against the black stuffs of secrecy--they said:
"It is good that the old man should pass like this--we shall see better
where we're going; and if the Watch have any job on hand, or want to
put the pavements in order, his lanthorn will serve their purpose well
enough." And they would call out of their doors and windows to him
passing:
"Hola! old man Cethru! All's well with our house, and with the street
before it?"
But, for answer, the old man only held his lanthorn up, so that in the
ring of its pale light they saw some sight or other in the street. And his
silence troubled them, one by one, for each had expected that he would
reply:
"Aye, aye! All's well with your house, Sirs, and with the street before
it!"
Thus they grew irritated with this old man who did not seem able to do
anything but just hold his lanthorn up. And gradually they began to
dislike his passing by their doors with his pale light, by which they
could not fail to see, not only the rich-carved frontages and scrolled
gates of courtyards and fair gardens, but things that were not pleasing
to the eye. And they murmured amongst themselves: "What is the good
of this old man and his silly lanthorn? We can see all we want to see
without him; in fact, we got on very well before he came."
So, as he passed, rich folk who were supping would pelt him with
orange-peel and empty the dregs of their wine over his head; and poor
folk, sleeping in their hutches, turned over, as the rays of the lanthorn
fell on them, and cursed him for that disturbance. Nor did revellers or
footpads treat the old man, civilly, but tied him to the wall, where he
was constrained to stay till a kind passerby released him. And ever the

bats darkened his lanthorn with their wings and tried to beat the flame
out. And the old man thought: "This be a terrible hard job; I don't seem
to please nobody." But because the Prince of Felicitas had so
commanded him, he continued nightly to pass with his lanthorn up and
down the street; and every morning as the saffron swan came
swimming overhead, to fall asleep. But his sleep did not last long, for
he was compelled to pass many hours each day in gathering rushes and
melting down tallow for his lanthorn; so that his lean face grew more
than ever like a sandwich of dried leather.
Now it came to pass that the Town Watch having had certain
complaints made to them that persons had been bitten in the Vita
Publica by rats, doubted of their duty to destroy these ferocious
creatures; and they held investigation, summoning the persons bitten
and inquiring of them how it was that in so dark a street they could tell
that the animals which had bitten them were indeed rats. Howbeit for
some time no one could be found who could say more than what he had
been told, and since this was not evidence, the Town Watch had good
hopes that they would not after all be forced to undertake this tedious
enterprise. But presently there came before them one who said that he
had himself seen the rat which had bitten him, by the light of an old
man's lanthorn. When the Town Watch heard this they were vexed, for
they knew that if this were true they would now be forced to prosecute
the arduous undertaking, and they said:
"Bring in this old man!"
Cethru was brought before them trembling.
"What is this we hear, old man, about your lanthorn and the rat? And in
the first place, what were you doing in the Vita Publica at that time of
night?"
Cethru answered: "I were just passin' with my lanthorn!"
"Tell us--did you see the rat?"
Cethru shook his head: "My lanthorn seed the rat, maybe!" he muttered.