The Blue Flower [3]
there were fountains for the drawing of
water; at every crossing a stream was turned aside to run out to
the vineyards; and the river was the mother of them all.
There were but few people in the streets, and none of the
older folk from whom I might ask counsel or a lodging; so I
stood and knocked at the door of a house. It was opened by an
old man, who greeted me with kindness and bade me enter as his
guest. After much courteous entertainment, and when supper
was ended, his friendly manner and something of singular
attractiveness in his countenance led me to tell him of my
strange journeyings in the land of Koorma and in other lands
where I had been seeking the Blue Flower, and to inquire of
him the name and the story of his city and the cause of the
river which made it glad.
"My son," he answered, "this is the city which was called
Ablis, that is to say, Forsaken. For long ago men lived here,
and the river made their fields fertile, and their dwellings were
full of plenty and peace. But because of many evil things which
have been half-forgotten, the river was turned aside, or else it
was dried up at its source in the high place among the mountains,
so that the water flowed down no more. The channels and the
trenches and the marble pools and the basins beside the houses
remained, but they were empty. So the gardens withered; the
fields were barren; the city was desolate; and in the broken
cisterns there was scanty water.
"Then there came one from a distant country who was very
sorrowful to see the desolation. He told the people that it
was vain to dig new cisterns and to keep the channels and
trenches clean; for the water had come only from above. The
Source must be found again and reopened. The river would not
flow unless they traced it back to the spring, and visited it
continually, and offered prayers and praises beside it without
ceasing. Then the spring would rise to an outpouring, and the
water would run down plentifully to make the gardens blossom
and the city rejoice.
"So he went forth to open the fountain; but there were few
that went with him, for he was a poor man of lowly aspect, and
the path upward was steep and rough. But his companions saw
that as he climbed among the rocks, little streams of water
gushed from the places where he trod, and pools began to
gather in the dry river-bed. He went more swiftly than they
could follow him, and at length he passed out of their sight.
A little farther on they came to the rising of the river and
there, beside the overflowing Source, they found their leader
lying dead."
"That was a strange thing," I cried, "and very pitiful.
Tell me how it came to pass, and what was the meaning of it."
"I cannot tell the whole of the meaning," replied the old
man, after a little pause, "for it was many years ago. But
this poor man had many enemies in the city, chiefly among the
makers of cisterns, who hated him for his words. I believe
that they went out after him secretly and slew him. But his
followers came back to the city; and as they came the river
began to run down very gently after them. They returned to the
Source day by day, bringing others with them; for they said that
their leader was really alive, though the form of his life had
changed, and that he met them in that high place while they
remembered him and prayed and sang songs of praise. More and
more the people learned to go with them, and the path grew
plainer and easier to find. The more the Source was revisited,
the more abundant it became, and the more it filled the river.
All the channels and the basins were supplied with water, and men
made new channels which were also filled. Some of those who were
diggers of trenches and hewers of cisterns said that it was
their work which had wrought the change. But the wisest and
best among the people knew that it all came from the Source,
and they taught that if it should ever again be forgotten and
left unvisited the river would fail again and desolation
return. So every day, from
water; at every crossing a stream was turned aside to run out to
the vineyards; and the river was the mother of them all.
There were but few people in the streets, and none of the
older folk from whom I might ask counsel or a lodging; so I
stood and knocked at the door of a house. It was opened by an
old man, who greeted me with kindness and bade me enter as his
guest. After much courteous entertainment, and when supper
was ended, his friendly manner and something of singular
attractiveness in his countenance led me to tell him of my
strange journeyings in the land of Koorma and in other lands
where I had been seeking the Blue Flower, and to inquire of
him the name and the story of his city and the cause of the
river which made it glad.
"My son," he answered, "this is the city which was called
Ablis, that is to say, Forsaken. For long ago men lived here,
and the river made their fields fertile, and their dwellings were
full of plenty and peace. But because of many evil things which
have been half-forgotten, the river was turned aside, or else it
was dried up at its source in the high place among the mountains,
so that the water flowed down no more. The channels and the
trenches and the marble pools and the basins beside the houses
remained, but they were empty. So the gardens withered; the
fields were barren; the city was desolate; and in the broken
cisterns there was scanty water.
"Then there came one from a distant country who was very
sorrowful to see the desolation. He told the people that it
was vain to dig new cisterns and to keep the channels and
trenches clean; for the water had come only from above. The
Source must be found again and reopened. The river would not
flow unless they traced it back to the spring, and visited it
continually, and offered prayers and praises beside it without
ceasing. Then the spring would rise to an outpouring, and the
water would run down plentifully to make the gardens blossom
and the city rejoice.
"So he went forth to open the fountain; but there were few
that went with him, for he was a poor man of lowly aspect, and
the path upward was steep and rough. But his companions saw
that as he climbed among the rocks, little streams of water
gushed from the places where he trod, and pools began to
gather in the dry river-bed. He went more swiftly than they
could follow him, and at length he passed out of their sight.
A little farther on they came to the rising of the river and
there, beside the overflowing Source, they found their leader
lying dead."
"That was a strange thing," I cried, "and very pitiful.
Tell me how it came to pass, and what was the meaning of it."
"I cannot tell the whole of the meaning," replied the old
man, after a little pause, "for it was many years ago. But
this poor man had many enemies in the city, chiefly among the
makers of cisterns, who hated him for his words. I believe
that they went out after him secretly and slew him. But his
followers came back to the city; and as they came the river
began to run down very gently after them. They returned to the
Source day by day, bringing others with them; for they said that
their leader was really alive, though the form of his life had
changed, and that he met them in that high place while they
remembered him and prayed and sang songs of praise. More and
more the people learned to go with them, and the path grew
plainer and easier to find. The more the Source was revisited,
the more abundant it became, and the more it filled the river.
All the channels and the basins were supplied with water, and men
made new channels which were also filled. Some of those who were
diggers of trenches and hewers of cisterns said that it was
their work which had wrought the change. But the wisest and
best among the people knew that it all came from the Source,
and they taught that if it should ever again be forgotten and
left unvisited the river would fail again and desolation
return. So every day, from