The fate of a Russian author was, indeed, a very sad affair. “In all lands have the writers drunk of life’s cup of bitterness, have they been bruised by life’s sharp corners and torn by life’s pointed thorns. Chill penury, public neglect, and ill health have been the lot of many an author in countries other than Russia. But in the land of the Czars men of letters had to face problems and perils which were peculiarly their own, and which have not been duplicated in any other country on the globe.... Every man of letters was under suspicion. The government of Russia treated every author as its natural enemy, and made him feel frequently the weight of its heavy hand. The wreath of laurels on the brow of almost every poet was turned by the tyrants of his country into a crown of thorns.” (From the present writer’s essay “The Gloom and Glory of Russian Literature” in The Open Court for July, 1918.)
THE DEVIL AND THE OLD MAN
BY JOHN MASEFIELD[Story]
POSTCRIPT
For the benefit of the gentle reader, who is about to shed a tear or two over the demise of the devil, the following episode from Anatole France’s My Friend’s Book is retold here:
Pierre Nozière (Anatole France) takes his baby-girl to a Punch and Judy show, the culmination point of which always consists of the duel to the death between Punch and the Devil. The terrible battle ends, of course, with the death of the Devil. The spectators applaud the heroic act of Punch, but Pierre Nozière is not happy over the result of the fight. He thinks that it is rather a pity that the Devil has been slain. Paying no heed to Suzanne sitting by his side, he goes on musing:
“The Devil being dead, good-bye to sin! Perhaps Beauty, the Devil’s ally, would have to go, too. Perhaps we should never more behold the flowers that enchant us, and the eyes for love of which we would lay down our lives. What, if that is so, what in the world would become of us? Should we still be able to practise virtue? I doubt it. Punch did not sufficiently bear in mind that Evil is the necessary counterpart of Good, as darkness is of light, that virtue wholly consists of effort, and that if there is no more any Devil to fight against, the Saints will remain as much out of work as the Sinners. Life will be mortally dull. I tell you that when he killed the Devil, Punch committed an act of grave imprudence.
“Well, Pulchinello came on and made his bow, the curtain fell, and all the little boys and girls went home; but still I sat on deep in meditation. Mam’zelle Suzanne, perceiving my thoughtful mien, concluded that I was in trouble.... Very gently and tenderly she takes hold of my hand and asks me why I am unhappy. I confess that I am sorry that Punch has slain the Devil. Then she puts her little arms round my neck, and putting her lips to my ears, she whispers:
“‘I tell you somefin: Punch, he killed the nigger, but he has not killed him for good.’”