He had dulled down a little now; not much, but still you could notice that he hadn't that luminous look in his eyes that he had while Satan was in him.He nearly got it back, though, for a moment when Marget came and praised him and thanked him and couldn't keep him from seeing how proud she was of him.The astrologer went off dissatisfied and cursing, and Solomon Isaacs gathered up the money and carried it away.It was Father Peter's for good and all, now.
Satan was gone.I judged that he had spirited himself away to the jail to tell the prisoner the news; and in this I was right.Marget and the rest of us hurried thither at our best speed, in a great state of rejoicing.
Well, what Satan had done was this: he had appeared before that poor prisoner, exclaiming, "The trial is over, and you stand forever disgraced as a thief--by verdict of the court!"The shock unseated the old man's reason.When we arrived, ten minutes later, he was parading pompously up and down and delivering commands to this and that and the other constable or jailer, and calling them Grand Chamberlain, and Prince This and Prince That, and Admiral of the Fleet, Field Marshal in Command, and all such fustian, and was as happy as a bird.He thought he was Emperor!
Marget flung herself on his breast and cried, and indeed everybody was moved almost to heartbreak.He recognized Marget, but could not understand why she should cry.He patted her on the shoulder and said:
"Don't do it, dear; remember, there are witnesses, and it is not becoming in the Crown Princess.Tell me your trouble--it shall be mended; there is nothing the Emperor cannot do." Then he looked around and saw old Ursula with her apron to her eyes.He was puzzled at that, and said, "And what is the matter with you?"Through her sobs she got out words explaining that she was distressed to see him--"so." He reflected over that a moment, then muttered, as if to himself: "A singular old thing, the Dowager Duchess--means well, but is always snuffling and never able to tell what it is about.It is because she doesn't know." His eyes fell on Wilhelm."Prince of India," he said, "I divine that it is you that the Crown Princess is concerned about.Her tears shall be dried; I will no longer stand between you; she shall share your throne; and between you you shall inherit mine.There, little lady, have I done well? You can smile now--isn't it so?"He petted Marget and kissed her, and was so contented with himself and with everybody that he could not do enough for us all, but began to give away kingdoms and such things right and left, and the least that any of us got was a principality.And so at last, being persuaded to go home, he marched in imposing state; and when the crowds along the way saw how it gratified him to be hurrahed at, they humored him to the top of his desire, and he responded with condescending bows and gracious smiles, and often stretched out a hand and said, "Bless you, my people!"As pitiful a sight as ever I saw.And Marget, and old Ursula crying all the way.
On my road home I came upon Satan, and reproached him with deceiving me with that lie.He was not embarrassed, but said, quite simply and composedly:
"Ah, you mistake; it was the truth.I said he would be happy the rest of his days, and he will, for he will always think he is the Emperor, and his pride in it and his joy in it will endure to the end.He is now, and will remain, the one utterly happy person in this empire.""But the method of it, Satan, the method! Couldn't you have done it without depriving him of his reason?"It was difficult to irritate Satan, but that accomplished it.
"What an ass you are!" he said."Are you so unobservant as not to have found out that sanity and happiness are an impossible combination? No sane man can be happy, for to him life is real, and he sees what a fearful thing it is.Only the mad can be happy, and not many of those.
The few that imagine themselves kings or gods are happy, the rest are no happier than the sane.Of course, no man is entirely in his right mind at any time, but I have been referring to the extreme cases.I have taken from this man that trumpery thing which the race regards as a Mind;I have replaced his tin life with a silver-gilt fiction; you see the result--and you criticize! I said I would make him permanently happy, and I have done it.I have made him happy by the only means possible to his race--and you are not satisfied!" He heaved a discouraged sigh, and said, "It seems to me that this race is hard to please."There it was, you see.He didn't seem to know any way to do a person a favor except by killing him or ****** a lunatic out of him.Iapologized, as well as I could; but privately I did not think much of his processes--at that time.
Satan was accustomed to say that our race lived a life of continuous and uninterrupted self-deception.It duped itself from cradle to grave with shams and delusions which it mistook for realities, and this made its entire life a sham.Of the score of fine qualities which it imagined it had and was vain of, it really possessed hardly one.It regarded itself as gold, and was only brass.One day when he was in this vein he mentioned a detail--the sense of humor.I cheered up then, and took issue.I said we possessed it.
"There spoke the race!" he said; "always ready to claim what it hasn't got, and mistake its ounce of brass filings for a ton of gold-dust.You have a mongrel perception of humor, nothing more; a multitude of you possess that.This multitude see the comic side of a thousand low-grade and trivial things--broad incongruities, mainly; grotesqueries, absurdities, evokers of the horse-laugh.The ten thousand high-grade comicalities which exist in the world are sealed from their dull vision.
Will a day come when the race will detect the funniness of these juvenilities and laugh at them--and by laughing at them destroy them?
