THE LAST OF SHIMEI.

A parable in life of perfect love

( Other than was in heaven to be beheld ),

The clustering angels, crowded nigh to see,

Saw in the things that then and there befell.

It might indeed have been a scene let down

Suddenly from above in lively show

Of love in act on earth like love in heaven —

Only that never in heaven is need of act,

From love, of mercy such as now was seen,

A living picture, on that vessel's deck!

Luke the physician, at a sign from Paul,

With Aristarchus, one on either side,

Supported Shimei, tottering as he went

( Too weak to wish or will or this or that,

Or otherwise behave than just submit ),

To where with feat celerity meanwhile

The women, of one mind, Rachel and Ruth

And fair Eunicé, in a sheltered place

Had spread, of rug and pillow thither brought,

A sudden couch whereon a man might rest.

Stephen, from out the store of frugal cheer

By his forecasting mother's care purveyed —

Provision for the needs that might attend

The chances of sea-faring — brought and broached

A flagon of sweet wine. This, to the lips

Of Shimei in a slender goblet pressed,

Cheered him his heart and made him seem to live.

All was in silence done, and then, withdrawn

A little from about the man supine,

That company of ministrants, one will —

Among them Mary Magdalené too,

Pathetic, with her deep-experienced eyes —

Kept quiet watch and wished that he might sleep.

And Shimei slept; a deep dissolving sleep —

Unjointed all his members in remiss

Solution of the consciousness of life.

A long deep sleep; a dreamless sleep at first,

Then, as the hours wore on and still he slept,

Delicious reminiscences in dream

( Unconscious hoarded treasure of the brain,)

Were loosed within him of a dewy dawn

Forgotten, and a time when he was young.

He had found the fountain in that land of dream,

And drunk his fill from it with sweet delight,

Famed for its virtue to renew in youth.

The old man was a boy again, at home,

A Hebrew home though on an alien shore.

Perhaps some soft insinuation crept

Into his sleep from that last waking sense

Of his, the sense, to him unwonted long —

A lonely man, of wife, of child, bereft,

Who never sister's gentleness had known —

Of touch from woman's hand; however it was,

Shimei a vision of his mother had.

A son, her only, by his mother's knee,

That mother's blossoming hope, her joy, her pride,

He felt the benediction of a hand,

Her hand, laid like a softness on his brow;

And Shimei's lips, no longer thin and cold,

But warm now, and with flush of lifeblood full,

Moved in responsive welcome of a kiss,

Her kiss, and holy, like a touch of chrism.

How fair the vision was that then he saw!

How sweet the tones were that once more he heard!

Such sound, such sight, were better than sweet sleep;

And the fond sleeper fain would wake, to dream

So good a dream awake, and to the full

Taste it, with senses and with soul nowise

Bound from the right fruition of their feast.

So, as of his own motion, Shimei woke —

And instantly was sorry for the change.

His eyes he dared not open to the day,

Holding them shut to hold himself asleep.

Alas, in vain! Too late! Full well he knew

Now what he was, and where, and that in truth

His happy boyhood had come back in dream.

Yet lay he lapped in luxury of pain

And pathos, and sweet pity of himself,

And longings toward a past beyond recall,

With something also of a good remorse

That he was such as then he felt he was,

Poor broken worldling, empty heart, and old

( In contrast of his visionary youth! ),

Therewith perhaps some upward-groping wish

That he were other. All-undoing stress

It was, of elemental motions blind

About the bases of his being bowed

Like Samson, and his state was overthrown.

Those agéd eyes that had been used to glint

Metallic lusters, or of adamant,

Softened beneath the lids, unseen, and tears

Forced themselves forth down either temple falling.

Instinctively he stirred, and with his hands

( Vainly, encumbered with their manacles! )

He sought to brush those trickling tears away.

They wandered down to mingle with his hair,

Long locks, and thin, of iron grey, unkempt,

Close clinging to the sunken temple walls.

Rachel with Ruth remarked the motions vain,

And gently, without word, moved to his side.

There Rachel with her kerchief wiped the tears

With strokes as of caress, so loving light;

But Ruth, observing for a moment, turned

With token to Eunicé, quick of heart

To understand, who hastening lightly thence

A laver full of water brought, wherefrom

The mother washed the forehead and the face,

As had that agéd man her father been,

Then dried them with a towel clean and sweet.

Not once the while would Shimei lift the lids

That trembled shutting over his dim eyes:

Strange new emotion made him shrink from seeing —

Shame, and a tenderness of gratitude,

And love, that, with wing-footed Memory,

Ran backward to his boyhood and there fell

With tears and kisses on his mother's neck —

Remembered, she, a woman — such as these!

The squalid wretchedness of his estate

Forgotten, and its utter hopelessness,

Was it not blesséd, only thus to lie

Ministered to as if he were beloved

Of some one, he who long had no one loved!

Melted like wax within him was his heart,

And when at length they spoke to him, and said,

“Thy hands too, if we might too wash thy hands!”

And when, he neither yes nor no with word

Or sign replying, they, with yes assumed,

Did it, assuaging with all healing heed

The hurts and bruises of the chafing chains,

Then the old man with a convulsive wrench

Turned his whole frame averse from them to hide

The tears that streamed in rivers from his eyes.

“And this they do for love of their Lord Christ!” —

Such muffled words, sobbed out amid his tears

And shaken with the throbs that shook his frame,

Those women seemed to hear from Shimei's lips.

“Lo, Jesus, wilt thou master also me?

I cannot bear the pressure of this love!

Crushed am I under it into the babe

Indeed I dreamed just now I was become!”

So Shimei to himself, in words more clear

With the abating passion of his sobs,

Spoke plaintive with the accents of a child.

A start of tears responsive orbed the eyes

Of Ruth and Rachel at such token shown

Of gracious change in Shimei; grateful tears

They were, and hopeful, and each tear a prayer —

How prevalent, who knows?— for Shimei.

God, in His lachrymary urn reserved

To long remembrance, treasures up such tears!

Paul, at remove with Stephen, beholding all,

Felt a great pang and passion of desire

To bear some part and render a testimony

Of love and of forgiveness toward this man,

Yea, of sweet will to be forgiven and loved

By him in turn, that Shimei needs must trust.

He thought of how the Lord, that extreme night

In which He was betrayed, He knowing well

The Father had given all things into His hands,

And He was come from God and went to God,

Rose from the supper, disarrayed Himself —

As if so laying His majesty aside

To clothe Himself in mightier majesty

Of meekness, with the servant's towel girded!—

Then, pouring water in the basin, kneeled,

Girded in fashion as a menial, kneeled.

The Lord Himself of life and glory kneeled,

Washing and wiping his disciples’ feet!

And Judas, Paul remembered, was among them!

“This is my time,” said he, “my time at last;

Shimei will not resist nor say me nay,

And I, with mine own hands, will wash his feet.”

But Stephen said: “Lo, I have hated him

More wickedly than any, I beseech

Mine uncle let me do this thing to him.

Shimei will know I do it for thy sake,

And it will be to him as if thou didst it.”

So, Paul allowing it for his nephew's sake,

Glad to confirm him in that gentleness,

Stephen a ewer of water made haste to bring,

And there amid them all admiring him

Known to have hated Shimei so, he stooped,

With a most beautiful behavior stooped —

Not without qualms of lothness overcome,

Considering he how swift those feet had been,

How swift those agéd feet, how long, had been,

To shed blood, and what blood to shed how swift!—

And dutifully washed and wiped them clean.

The old man now lay utterly relapsed,

Exhausted his capacity to feel,

Resistance therefore, and even reaction, none,

A state suspended between life and death;

So had the vehemence of his passion wrought

On Shimei's weakness to disable him.

The women with sure instinct knew his need;

They lightly on him laid one covering more,

For now the coolness of the night was nigh,

And again wished for him the gift of sleep.

And again Shimei slept, to wake refreshed

Then when the moonless sky was bright with stars,

Stars that not more intently over all

Watched, than those faithful had watched over him.

Refection from their hands, both heedful meet

And choicest possible to case like theirs,

Strengthened the faster for a night-long sleep,

Which with the morning brought him back himself,

A self with pity and terror purified,

But better purified with thanks and love.

So, lapt in a delightsome consciousness,

Half haze, a kind of infant consciousness,

Of being changed to other than before,

Shimei slid sweetly on in reverie —

No words, nay, thoughts even not, pure reverie;

But if that mist of musing in his mind

Had into thoughts, like star-dust into stars,

Been orbed, their purport such as this had been:

‘ I miss it, and I feel that I should grope

Vainly to find in me the power that once

Was ever mine to be my proper self.

All standing-ground seems melted under me,

Planted whereon I might with hope resist.

It is all emptiness, all nothingness

About me, I am utter helplessness.

Yet somehow it is blesséd helplessness!

Let Him do with me as He will, Who now

Is dealing thus with me through these! O ye,

His ministers, O, holy women, ye,

Behold, I give myself through you to Him!

Ye have conquered me for Him at last with love.

No weapons have I to withstand such might.

Tell Paul that he and ye have overcome

For that both he and ye were overcome

Yourselves first by the love that made you love

Even me, even me, even me, grown gray in sin,

Such sin, amid such light, against such love!

Forgive ye me, forgive, forgive, forgive,

And pray ye all that I may be forgiven

Of Him to Whom henceforth, unworthy I

To be at all accepted to such thrall,

I give myself forever up a slave!’

Thus Shimei, in his formless fantasy,

Which being nor word, nor thought, still less was will,

Mused, like a river lapsing to the sea;

So softly did an inner current draw

Him unresisting whither it desired.

It seemed to Shimei, in that strong access

And overflow of feeling new to him,

As if it would be easy to speak out.

Nay, but as if he must at once speak out,

Aloud, for those to hear toward whom he now

Felt this delicious love and longing; yet

He never did so speak, alas, but wronged

Himself, wronged them, refraining; more, the Spirit

Of grace nigh quenched with silence! So it fared

With Shimei then, self-shut from needful speech,

As might it with some tender plant denied

Its freedom of the sun and air, that peaks

And pines and cannot open into flower.

Perhaps the habit of his heart life-long

Was winter all too fast for any spring

To solve; perhaps he could not, if he would,

Unbind its cold constriction from himself

For welcome and exchange of sweet good-will

Such as he felt rife round him in the air,

Wooing him, like bland weather, toward full bloom

In frank affections and fair courtesies.

Sad, if indeed the faculty in him

Of finer feeling and the word to fit

Were lost through long disuse, or by abuse!

But it was much in Shimei that thenceforth

He never was bitter again with cynicism;

The fountains of his evil humor were dry;

He never vented blast of unbelief

To blight the region round him with black death

To every springing plant and opening flower

Of cheerful faith in human nobleness;

That mordant tongue refrained itself from sneer.

Yea — this with travail of will through enforced lips —

Shimei, in frugal phrase, but phrase sincere,

Gave, of his conscience, rather than his heart,

Thanks to them all that ministered to him.

More: after days of silence, passed in muse

And struggle in secret with himself, and prayer,

Once, having asked to speak with Paul apart

And easily won what he desired, he said:

“Behold, O Saul, I think that I have erred,

Mistaking thee, perhaps myself mistaking —

Yea, but I know that I mistook myself,

And mistook God, both what He was and wished;

Most wickedly mistook Him, honestly —

Honestly deeming Him other than He was,

Imputing honestly what was not His will —

Mistaking, with no heed not to mistake!

This was my wickedness, that lightly I

Misdeemed Him such an one as I myself.

And thee I wronged comparing thee with myself,

And hated thee for what, I now am sure,

Thou wast not. Saul, I need to be forgiven!” —

Wherewith his heavy head the old man bent low,

With his uplifted hands in manacles

Seeking to hide his face as if in shame;

Not shame that he had sinned, but that he now

Had spoken thus. Yet did that gesture naught

Diminish from his words, but only show

At cost how great he had wrung them from himself.

Paul understood the anguish of his mind,

And said to Shimei: “Nay, my brother, nay,

Forgiven thou art, nor needst to be forgiven,

Or at least I have nothing to forgive thee;

I long ago forgave thee all in all.

But I myself would be of thee forgiven!

I vexed thee once with high words spoken in pride;

I never have forgiven myself that pride.

Forgive me thou it, thou, that hadst thy hate

Needlessly blown to hotter flame thereby.

Let us forgive each other and love henceforth,

As God, for Christ's sake, will us both forgive!”

As Paul these last words spoke, he strongly yearned,

Even for Christ's sake, to throw himself in tears

On Shimei's neck and there weep out his love.

But he, for Shimei's sake, forbore; he saw

That Shimei, softened as he was, and changed,

Was not ripe for forgiveness so complete.

So Paul forbore, rejoiced that Shimei spoke

No word, and signified with silence naught,

In blasphemy of the Belovéd Name;

Name by himself in hope, not without fear,

Pronounced — like costliest pearl at venture flung

Before what under foot might trample it

And round to rend the largess-giver turn.

The chill obstruction never to the end

Was altogether thawed in Shimei's heart

To make him childlike placable and mild.

Perhaps more time, and vernal influence

Permitted longer to brood over him,

Had made it different; but the time was short

For Shimei in that air of Paradise.

The voyage long had been with froward winds;

At length those winds blew into tempest wild,

With winter lightnings strangely intermixed,

God thundering marvellously with His voice:

All on that ship were awed, and some appalled.

Shimei, hugging himself upon the deck

Where most were gathered, for to most it seemed

Better to stand beneath the open sky

Shelterless, than, though sheltered, not to see

God make himself thus terrible in storm —

Shimei, who, not more helpless than the rest,

Felt a degree more helpless through his chains,

Listened intently, with some power of calm

Communicated to him, while, in tones

Depressed unshaken into depths of awe,

Paul, meek inheritor of the universe,

As conscious child to God through Jesus Christ —

The spirit of adoption in his heart

That moment crying, “Abba Father!” — spoke

Of how those dwelling in the secret place

Of the Most High, beneath the shadow abode

Of the Almighty, safe from every harm.

Amid the booms of thunder bursting nigh

The dreadful forks of lightning flashed the while

And fell all round the ship into the sea,

Frequent, dividing pathways blinding bright

Between sheer walls of blackness built like stone,

So dense was piled the darkness of the night!

For it was night, no moon, no star, and cloud

Hung drooping in festoons from all the sky

Wind-swept along the bosom of the deep —

Sky only by the lightning flashes seen,

At intervals, yet every moment felt,

Oppressive, like a mighty incubus.

The lightning flashes thick and thicker fell,

Near, nearer, deadlier, as in conscious aim,

Like the fierce vengeful flames from heaven that once

Elijah prophet, on Mount Carmel, drew

Down on his altar trenched about with flood:

Those tongues of fire that circling trench lapped dry,

But these divided tongues of lightning seemed

Equal to lick the boundless ocean up!

The watchers huddling on the deck beheld

In silence — for now also Paul was dumb —

The imminent menace of the elements.

Then what might seem a frightful sign from heaven!

A leap of lightning and a rending roar

Of thunder at one selfsame moment broke,

Sudden, and nigh at hand — as if he, seen

Of John on Patmos isle, that angel dread

( Who, setting his right foot upon the sea

And his left foot upon the land, so cried

With a loud voice ) now standing on this ship

Had once more cried and loosed the thunders seven,

So manifold the noise!— and therewith swayed

The sword of God in a descending stroke

On some one there select for punishment.

They looked, and, lo, the fearful stroke had fallen

On Shimei; he lay lifeless on the deck.

No motion, save of falling, and no voice —

Appalling silence and appalling calm!

Close at the foot of the tall mast he fell,

Against which with his shoulder he had leaned

To stay him where he stood and watched the storm.

The storm seemed broken with that burst of rage,

And quieted itself through slow degrees

Of sullenness to peace. But the tall mast

At top had been enkindled with the touch

Of the fell lightning, and it burned a while

Lifted amid the tempest and the night,

A beacon flaming from the Most High God.

Such was the end of Shimei, unforeshown;

To this he tended all those devious ways!

Next morning mid a weather pacified

They shrouded him for burial in the deep.

“Until the sea give up its dead!” said Paul

Solemnly, as the corse went weighted down.

Julius would not let free his hands from chains;

“Culprit he was and culprit he shall go,”

He said, “to Hades by this watery way.

Incenséd Jupiter despatched him hence,

And Neptune will convey him duly down

To where their brother Pluto will behold

Upon him the Olympian's thunderbrand,

And send to Rhadamanthus to be judged!”

But Paul said to his company apart:

“Let us not judge before the time; the Day,

The Day, that shall declare it. Let us hope;

The mercy of the Lord is measureless:

It is, even like His judgment, a great deep,

And it endures forever; as the psalm

Sings it, again and yet again, in long

Antiphony of praise that cannot end.

Think not, because the promise is no harm

Shall light on any one who dwells within

The secret place of the Most High, that thence,

Seeing this awful-seeming way of death

Has found out Shimei, he perforce has proved

Not to have fixed his dwelling ere he died

Safe in the shadow of the Almighty's throne.

The safety promised is not for the flesh,

But for the spirit. The outward perishes

In many ways that to the senses seem

Preclusive quite of hope for life to come.

But, so the inward bide untouched of harm,

The true self lives and is inviolate.

That lightning did not fall on Shimei's soul;

No certain sign was it of wrath divine:

Nay, even perhaps the opposite of such,

It may have been a fiery chariot

With fiery horses hither sent from heaven,

To bear him up Elijah-like to God.

Far be it to say that this indeed was so;

Yet often last is first, as first is last.

Ye saw how wrought upon our brother was

Of late to be how different from himself!

I trust he trusted in the atoning blood.

I shall have hope to see him yet endued

In shining robes of Jesus’ righteousness,

Translucent shining robes wherethrough the soul

Herself shows shining in essential white!

God grant it, and farewell to Shimei!”