A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder by James De Mille (good summer reads txt) 📕

sounded strange indeed; but I did not care to criticize it. I came to my purpose direct and said,

“Save us from our fate.”

“Your fate?”

“Yes, from death⁠—that death of horror.”

“Death?⁠—horror? What do you mean by horror?” said the Kohen, in an amazement that was sincere and unfeigned. “I cannot comprehend your meaning. It seems as though you actually dislike death; but that is not conceivable. It cannot be possible that you fear death.”

“Fear death!” I exclaimed, “I do⁠—I do. Who is there that does not fear it?”

The Kohen stared.

“I do not understand you,” he said.

“Do you not understand,” said I, “that death is abhorrent to humanity?”

“Abhorrent!” said the Kohen; “that is impossible. Is it not the highest blessing? Who is there that does not long for death? Death is the greatest blessing, the chief desire of man⁠—the highest aim. And you⁠—are you not to be envied in having your felicity so near? above all, in having such a death as that which is appointed for you⁠—so noble, so sublime? You must be mad; your happiness has turned your head.”

All this seemed like hideous mockery, and I stared at the Kohen with a gaze that probably strengthened his opinion of my madness.

“Do you love death?” I asked at length, in amazement.

“Love death? What a question! Of course I love death⁠—all men do; who does not? Is it not human nature? Do we not instinctively fly to meet it whenever we can? Do we not rush into the jaws of sea-monsters, or throw ourselves within their grasp? Who does not feel within him this intense longing after death as the strongest passion of his heart?”

“I don’t know⁠—I don’t know,” said I. “You are of a different race; I do not understand what you say. But I belong to a race that fears death. I fear death and love life; and I entreat you, I implore you to help me now in my distress, and assist me so that I may save my life and that of Almah.”

“I⁠—I help you!” said the Kohen, in new amazement. “Why do you come to me⁠—to me, of all men? Why, I am nothing here. And help you to live⁠—to live! Who ever heard of such a thing?”

And the Kohen looked at me with the same astonishment which I should evince if a man should ask me to help him to die.

Still, I persisted in my entreaty for his help.

“Such a request,” said he, “is revolting; you must be mad. Such a request outrages all the instincts of humanity. And even if I could do such violence to my own nature as to help you to such a thing, how do you think I could face my fellow-men, or how could I endure the terrible punishment which would fall upon me?”

“Punishment!” said I. “What! would you be punished?”

“Punished!” said the Kohen. “That, of course, would be inevitable. I should be esteemed an unnatural monster and the chief of criminals. My lot in life now is painful enough; but in this case my punishment would involve me in evils without end. Riches would be poured upon me; I should be raised to the rank of Kohen Gadol; I should be removed farther away than ever from the pauper class⁠—so far, indeed, that all hope in life would be over. I should be made the first and noblest and richest in all the land.”

He spoke these words just as if he had said, “the lowest, meanest, poorest, and most infamous.” It sounded like fresh mockery, and I could not believe but that he was amusing himself at my expense.

“This is cruel,” said I. “You are mocking me.”

“Cruel?⁠—cruel?” said he; “what is cruel? You mean that such a fate would be cruel for me.”

“No, no,” said I; “but alas! I see we cannot understand one another.”

“No,” said the Kohen, musingly, as he looked at me. “No, it seems not; but tell me, Atam-or, is it possible that you really fear death⁠—that you really love life?”

“Fear death!⁠—love life!” I cried. “Who does not? Who can help it? Why do you ask me that?”

The Kohen clasped his hands in amazement.

“If you really fear death,” said he, “what possible thing is there left to love or to hope for? What, then, do you think the highest blessing of man?”

“Long life,” said I, “and riches and requited love.”

At this the Kohen started back, and stared at me as though I were a raving madman.

“Oh, holy shades of night!” he exclaimed. “What is that you say? What do you mean?”

“We can never understand one another, I fear,” said I. “The love of life must necessarily be the strongest passion of man. We are so made. We give up everything for life. A long life is everywhere considered as the highest blessing; and there is no one who is willing to die, no matter what his suffering may be. Riches also are desired by all, for poverty is the direst curse that can embitter life; and as to requited love, surely that is the sweetest, purest, and most divine joy that the human heart may know.”

At this the Kohen burst forth in a strain of high excitement:

“Oh, sacred cavern gloom! Oh, divine darkness! Oh, impenetrable abysses of night! What, oh, what is this! Oh, Atam-or, are you mad? Alas! it must be so. Joy has turned your brain; you are quite demented. You call good evil, and evil good; our light is your darkness, and our darkness your light. Yet surely you cannot be altogether insane. Come, come, let us look further. How is it! Try now to recall your reason. A long life⁠—a life, and a long one! Surely there can be no human being in a healthy state of nature who wishes to prolong his life; and as to riches, it is possible that anyone exists who really and honestly desires riches? Impossible! And requited love! Oh, Atam-or, you are mad today! You are always strange, but now you have quite taken leave