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crooked_ear_llamaWe return to “The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam,” the same source as the opening quote for “In the Court of the Dragon,” for the opening quote here:
“If but the Vine and Love Abjuring Band
Are in the Prophets’ Paradise to stand,
Alack, I doubt the Prophets’ Paradise,
Were empty as the hollow of one’s hand.”
This particular verse is from the Second Edition; it’s translated differently in other versions. It’s also slightly misquoted here: the poem refers to “the Prophet’s Paradise,” i.e. a paradise belonging to a single prophet, rather than “the Prophets’ Paradise,” belonging to multiple prophets, mentioned here. Reading through the context makes it crystal clear that the “prophet” in question is Muhammed. The meaning of the verse can be summed up as, “If the only people in Heaven are those who never drink wine and never love, then Heaven is empty.”
“The Prophets’ Paradise” is a series of eight vignettes. I’ve thought about how to sum them up, and I’ve decided that I can’t. They’re all just so strange that any attempt to summarize would necessarily involve interpreting them. Fortunately, however, these are all in the public domain, and I can quote them as much as I want without having to worry about whether it counts as fair use or any technicalities such as that. So, rather than give anyone the wrong impression about these stories, I’m just going to quote them in full, and then give my interpretation below.
THE STUDIO
He smiled, saying, “Seek her throughout the world.”
I said, “Why tell me of the world? My world is here, between these walls and the sheet of glass above; here among gilded flagons and dull jewelled arms, tarnished frames and canvasses, black chests and high-backed chairs, quaintly carved and stained in blue and gold.”
“For whom do you wait?” he said, and I answered, “When she comes I shall know her.”
On my hearth a tongue of flame whispered secrets to the whitening ashes. In the street below I heard footsteps, a voice, and a song.
“For whom then do you wait?” he said, and I answered, “I shall know her.”
Footsteps, a voice, and a song in the street below, and I knew the song but neither the steps nor the voice.
“Fool!” he cried, “the song is the same, the voice and steps have but changed with years!”
On the hearth a tongue of flame whispered above the whitening ashes: “Wait no more; they have passed, the steps and the voice in the street below.”
Then he smiled, saying, “For whom do you wait? Seek her throughout the world!”
I answered, “My world is here, between these walls and the sheet of glass above; here among gilded flagons and dull jewelled arms, tarnished frames and canvasses, black chests and high-backed chairs, quaintly carved and stained in blue and gold.”
I’m pretty sure that the narrator of this story is an article of jewelry, living in some sort of display case. That makes sense with his world being “walls and a sheet of glass above,” and waiting for “her,” his rightful owner who will someday come along and buy him. My guess is that this piece represents some interesting act of silversmithing or goldsmithing, and thus the references to “the hearth” are from when he was created—though an alternate interpretation occurs to me that maybe there’s some bright red stone in this piece, either a ruby or a garnet, that is the “hearth” with its metaphorical “tongues of flame.”
What I don’t understand here is who the second voice is, the “he” that keeps urging the narrator to “seek her throughout the world.” Nor do I understand the “footsteps, voice, and song” in the street.
I have to admit that this story isn’t getting off to a great start. I don’t completely understand what’s happen, and I’ve got no clue at all why I’m supposed to care about it.
THE PHANTOM
The Phantom of the Past would go no further.
“If it is true,” she sighed, “that you find in me a friend, let us turn back together. You will forget, here, under the summer sky.”
I held her close, pleading, caressing; I seized her, white with anger, but she resisted.
“If it is true,” she sighed, “that you find in me a friend, let us turn back together.”
The Phantom of the Past would go no further.
This story seems straightforward enough: you can’t drag the past into the future. If you like the past, it will tempt you to stay with it in the past, but that is of course impossible. It’s impossible to the extent that the narrator here doesn’t even consider it, just keeps trying the equally impossible task of pulling the past along with him.
THE SACRIFICE
I went into a field of flowers, whose petals are whiter than snow and whose hearts are pure gold.
Far afield a woman cried, “I have killed him I loved!” and from a jar she poured blood upon the flowers whose petals are whiter than snow and whose hearts are pure gold.
Far afield I followed, and on the jar I read a thousand names, while from within the fresh blood bubbled to the brim.
“I have killed him I loved!” she cried. “The world’s athirst; now let it drink!” She passed, and far afield I watched her pouring blood upon the flowers whose petals are whiter than snow and whose hearts are pure gold.
I suspect that these “flowers whose petals are whiter than snow and whose hearts are pure gold” are meant to be a callback to the lily in “The Mask” that was described as being “white as snow…[with] a faint flush…deep in its heart.” My analysis here is going to begin with the same complaint I had in that story: flowers don’t have hearts! Yes, I get that these flowers are supposed to be symbolic, but even when a writer is being symbolic, those symbols are supposed to make sense!
I think I get what Chambers is going for here: the flowers, seemingly so innocent and pure (with their white petals) and full of goodness (with their gold hearts), are actually bloodthirsty monsters. Further, with the woman being the one feeding them the blood of “him [she] loved,” I get the impression that we’re going with the “women are cruel” framing from “The Demoiselle d’Ys”. Of course, I, like Jeanne from that story, am a woman, and like Jeanne, I find that argument stupid, stereotypical, misogynistic, and ironically enough, cruel.
Of course, even here his symbolism fails. A “heart of gold” is supposed to refer to a person’s innermost nature being good. Having “a heart of gold” and at the same time being bloodthirsty doesn’t really work. Now, maybe it could be made to work. Maybe the flowers are good, but being watered with blood is necessary anyway. Or maybe this could be like in Batman Begins where Rachel tells Bruce that it doesn’t matter if he’s a good person inside, it’s what he does that defines him. But I’m not sure that either of those possibilities could really be explored in a story of 115 words, a shorter bit than most academic abstracts.
DESTINY
I came to the bridge which few may pass.
“Pass!” cried the keeper, but I laughed, saying, “There is time;” and he smiled and shut the gates.
To the bridge which few may pass came young and old. All were refused. Idly I stood and counted them, until, wearied of their noise and lamentations, I came again to the bridge which few may pass.
Those in the throng about the gates shrieked out, “He comes too late!” But I laughed, saying, “There is time.”
“Pass!” cried the keeper as I entered; then smiled and shut the gates.
Again, this one comes across as fairly straightforward. The narrator has a special destiny, one that most people envy him. He, however, treats this destiny as something casual. He’s not eager to claim that destiny, though, and seems to be more amused by laughing at the people who want his destiny and can’t have it. But eventually he gets bored with that and goes to claim the destiny, with no difficulties due to his delay. Frankly, he comes off as kind of a jerk.
The only thing I can think of to expand on this is that maybe it’s supposed to be a critique of the predestination varieties of Christianity. He gets to the gates of Heaven but isn’t eager to go through. Okay, life is sweet, he wants to keep enjoying it, this would be understandable. And then he wastes that life in the most horrible fashion possible, mocking those who weren’t Chosen. But it doesn’t matter, he still gets to go to Heaven because he was destined for it.
(I will say that, if that was Chambers intent, he did not capture that variety of Christianity very well; it’s not at all the attitude of most of the believers in predestination that I know. But that’s beyond the scope of this reading.)
THE THRONG
There, where the throng was thickest in the street, I stood with Pierrot. All eyes were turned on me.
“What are they laughing at?” I asked, but he grinned, dusting the chalk from my black cloak. “I cannot see; it must be something droll, perhaps an honest thief!”
All eyes were turned on me.
“He has robbed you of your purse!” they laughed.
“My purse!” I cried; “Pierrot—help! it is a thief!”
They laughed: “He has robbed you of your purse!”
Then Truth stepped out, holding a mirror. “If he is an honest thief,” cried Truth, “Pierrot shall find him with this mirror!” but he only grinned, dusting the chalk from my black cloak.
“You see,” he said, “Truth is an honest thief, she brings you back your mirror.”
All eyes were turned on me.
“Arrest Truth!” I cried, forgetting it was not a mirror but a purse I lost, standing with Pierrot, there, where the throng was thickest in the street.
The narrator wants to know what everyone is laughing at, hmm? It should be pretty obvious, given that “all eyes were turned on him,” but our narrator in this one is particularly stupid. He cannot figure out the truth, that his friend is a thief, even when everyone around is telling him. He can’t recognize it, even when someone points out that the only way Pierrot will find the thief is in a mirror. He cannot see Truth, even when she’s staring him in the face. His treacherous friend persuades him to ignore the words of the crowd, even to demand the arrest of Truth rather than face the reality.
Put like that, this is something of a tragic tale. Yes, the narrator is being particularly stupid, but many people can be stupid when it comes to people we care about. We’ll believe that everyone in the world is lying, and that Truth itself is a villain rather than accept that someone we love doesn’t love us in return.
THE JESTER
“Was she fair?” I asked, but he only chuckled, listening to the bells jingling on his cap.
“Stabbed,” he tittered. “Think of the long journey, the days of peril, the dreadful nights! Think how he wandered, for her sake, year after year, through hostile lands, yearning for kith and kin, yearning for her!”
“Stabbed,” he tittered, listening to the bells jingling on his cap.
“Was she fair?” I asked, but he only snarled, muttering to the bells jingling on his cap.
“She kissed him at the gate,” he tittered, “but in the hall his brother’s welcome touched his heart.”
“Was she fair?” I asked.
“Stabbed,” he chuckled. “Think of the long journey, the days of peril, the dreadful nights! Think how he wandered, for her sake, year after year through hostile lands, yearning for kith and kin, yearning for her!”
“She kissed him at the gate, but in the hall his brother’s welcome touched his heart.”
“Was she fair?” I asked; but he only snarled, listening to the bells jingling in his cap.
The basic story here doesn’t seem hard to understand. The jester is telling of a man who wandered the world, most likely to seek his fortune so that he could be married, only to be murdered by his brother on his return. It isn’t, admittedly all that clear how the man’s true love felt about that. One possible interpretation is that she married the brother in his absence, and her “kiss at the gate” was meant to lure the victim into a false sense of security. It’s also possible, though, that her loving greeting was sincere, and she was as horrified as anyone at his murder. If that second is true, then it also isn’t clear if the brother murdered him out of jealousy over the girl or for another reason.
The interesting thing here is that the jester is the one who seems to grasp the important part of the story. He’s describing how a man was murdered. All the narrator seems interested in is whether or not the murdered man’s girlfriend was beautiful. The jester’s refusal to answer the question might be frustrating to the narrator, but the reason for that refusal is that the jester is trying to get the narrator to see that the answer doesn’t matter. The guy was stabbed through the heart! Who cares if his lady love was objectively beautiful? And the narrator never gets it. I really can’t blame the jester for, at the end, preferring the sound of “the bells jingling in his cap” to the narrator’s further inquiries. Frankly, the bells are less repetitive, more intelligent, and make more sense.
I do wonder if this story is meant to tie back to THE SACRIFICE, where we were feeding the white flowers with the blood of a lover. One more, we have a lover’s blood being shed. As I said, it’s not clear if the lady was involved or not, but if she were, she might be the equivalent of the woman with the jar. And the narrator’s pestering question, “Was she fair?”… One definition for “fair” is “beautiful,” but as our next vignette will remind us, “fair” can also mean “light-complexioned,” a.k.a. “white,” just like the flowers.
THE GREEN ROOM
The Clown turned his powdered face to the mirror.
“If to be fair is to be beautiful,” he said, “who can compare with me in my white mask?”
“Who can compare with him in his white mask?” I asked of Death beside me.
“Who can compare with me?” said Death, “for I am paler still.”
“You are very beautiful,” sighed the Clown, turning his powdered face from the mirror.
This little bit plays with the dual meaning that I just discussed with THE JESTER: “fair” means both “light-skinned” and “beautiful.” Obviously, the mixed meaning of “fair,” equating light-skin and beauty, has some unfortunate implications. But here, Chambers seems to be mocking the idea: if we’re equating light-skin and beauty, then who’s more light-skinned than the clown in white makeup? Except possibly Death, who is always portrayed as pale.
By taking the idea to its absurd conclusion, Chambers may be intending to get us to reject the initial premise, that light-skin is part of what makes someone beautiful. If that is the case, though, I will say it surprises me a little. In “The Repairer of Reputations”, Chambers seemed to be fully leaning into the prejudices of his time, not only with Hildred, the unreliable narrator, but with his seemingly sane cousin Louis.
The other thing I found interesting about this bit was the title: THE GREEN ROOM. I’m used to thinking of it a green room terms of TV, where the pundits hang out until the talking heads are ready for them to come on camera. It wasn’t until I read this that I realized that the term first, applied to a place where any performer could relax back stage, whether in a TV studio, theater, or other venue. Second, that it was far older than I realized, dating back to 1701. That’s not a particular point that’s of any use interpreting Chambers, but it is an interesting tidbit and a reminder that reading broadly can teach you many thing about the world, including things you don’t know you don’t know.
THE LOVE TEST
“If it is true that you love,” said Love, “then wait no longer. Give her these jewels which would dishonour her and so dishonour you in loving one dishonoured. If it is true that you love,” said Love, “then wait no longer.”
I took the jewels and went to her, but she trod upon them, sobbing: “Teach me to wait—I love you!”
“Then wait, if it is true,” said Love.
Between the jewels that are destined for some woman and someone urging the narrator to action, I’m reminded of the first vignette. However, the imagery here doesn’t make much sense.
I think that “Love” is urging the narrator to have sex with the woman he loves; that would fit with the “dishonour her” bit, given that traditionally a woman who had sex before marriage was considered dishonored. But she refuses, urging him to “teach [her] to wait.” And then “Love” decides, okay, we can wait.
But what are the “jewels” supposed to be in this circumstance? I’ve heard a woman’s virginity referred to as “her most precious jewel,” and that would seem to fit with the sex that “Love” seems to be pushing—but in that case, she would be giving the jewel to him.
Are they maybe literal jewels? Is he offering her jewels for sex? Is she a prostitute, or is he just treating her like one? The name of the vignette, THE LOVE TEST, suggests that maybe he’s testing her with this, which would in turn suggest that she’s not a prostitute, because a prostitute would have failed that test so many times it wouldn’t be worth making. Meaning he’s merely acting like she’s one. That doesn’t endear him to me, and I’m also not thrilled about someone who would “test” someone he claims to love like that.
Perhaps it’s appropriate that this one reminded me of the first story, because it leaves me with much the same feeling: I kind of vaguely know what’s going on, but not really, and I don’t particularly care about it.
So what is Chambers trying to say with these eight little microfictions? How do they tie together, and what relates them all to the notion of Heaven, as related by the prophets?
I suppose I could say, “Beats the heck out of me.” It would be an honest answer. But it’s not the answer that you’re here for. So I’ll see what I can put together out of this mess.
The opening poem mentions two classes of people that apparently “the prophets” have excluded from their paradise: wine drinkers and lovers. As far as I can tell, we’ve got no wine drinkers here. In fact, no one drinks anything during these stories, whether alcoholic or otherwise (unless you count the flowers being watered by blood). But we do have lovers: of our eight vignettes, three relate to love: THE SACRIFICE, THE JESTER, and THE LOVE TEST. If you wanted to stretch it, you could maybe say that THE THRONG is also about love—not romantic love, or at least it doesn’t seem so, but about the love between friends, and how it hurts when that love is betrayed. If you really, really wanted to stretch it, you could maybe include THE STUDIO in there as well: in this era, jewelry was usually purchased by men for their lovers; also, the idea that this particular piece of jewelry is “waiting for her” and “when she comes [he] shall know her” kind of fits with someone waiting for true love.
So is this a story about lovers, all those denied the “prophets’ paradise”? Well, no, because we still have three other stories, THE PHANTOM, DESTINY, and THE GREEN ROOM, which don’t fit with the “lovers” theme in any way.
Maybe those tie into Paradise in another fashion? I’ve already mentioned my theory that DESTINY was supposed to be about Heaven. And the way to Heaven is through Death, which would tie in with THE GREEN ROOM and Death being considered so beautiful.
So maybe the point of the story is a contrast between the lovers who cannot reach Heaven, the murdered and betrayed as well as the successful loves and those still waiting, with the rather unpleasant characters from DESTINY and THE GREEN ROOM who supposedly can?
Well, that fits better than the other, but it still leaves THE PHANTOM the odd tale out. Maybe it’s about how the past is a kind of paradise? Or trying to hold onto a past where religion had greater influence than it did now, and more people thought about Heaven? Either of those could tie it in with the general theme—but not really the other seven vignettes. I don’t know.
So I think we’re back to, “What is Chambers trying to say here? Beats the heck out of me.”
Did I like this story? After my first read, I would have said, “No, absolutely not. This is nonsense and a waste of my time.” But after analyzing things a little more, I’m not sure about that. I still didn’t like the first four stories, or THE LOVE TEST, but I do think I kind of like THE JESTER and its turnabout where the fool is the only one who grasps the important part. I saw something in THE THRONG and felt sympathy for the narrator, even as I was frustrated with his stupidity and unwillingness to see. And the absurdity of THE GREEN ROOM at least amused me.
But I had to analyze these stories to appreciate them, and I think that’s a serious flaw. I have no problem with things being literary or having deeper meanings that aren’t obvious the first time you read them—but there needs to be something on the surface too. A good allegory is, first and foremost, a good story; if you come back later and say, “Ah, it makes so much more sense if the gentleman at the door is really supposed to represent the Republic of Ireland,” all well and good, but first and foremost, the gentleman at the door should be interesting simply as a gentleman at the door.
And that isn’t the case here. Until you sit down and try to decipher this, it’s just a bunch of random happenings. And reading should first and foremost be about reading, not trying to solve the clues like this is a crossword puzzle. I won’t say that this is a waste of a thousand words, because there is some interesting stuff here. I will say, though, that it’s not very good. Taking one of these ideas and expanding it would probably make for a better story than mashing eight not-very-developed ideas together.
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Date: 2026-03-12 05:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-03-13 06:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-03-13 03:46 pm (UTC)I haven't read the stories from this point on, so I'll be interested to see what it'll be like!
Thanks again for looking up the quotes! Let me also supply the source of the one for "The Repairer of Reputations", then: according to the annotated edition you referred to and this talk page, it comes from Dix épines pour une fleur by Adolphe d'Houdetot (which seems to be a collection of witticisms). I do wish that Chambers had bothered noting who he got those quotes from, if only because that would make it easier to determine their context.
For the first vignette, I guess that the person going by outside is supposed to be who the piece is made for, something that the piece doesn't recognise because she's older. I also think it's supposed to be about the contrast between the narrator, who doesn't care about anything beyond his case, and the other person (who maybe represents someone who wants to give the ring to the person in the street)... but I admit I'm not really sure what's going on here, either.
I don't have much to say for the next few vignettes, except to note how much repetition each one has. It helps to create the effect Chambers is going for, but it does leave him with even less space to develop an idea in, so I'm not sure if this was a good idea.
"The Throng" and "The Jester" work better for me, probably because they have a bit more of a story to them, and because I can appreciate the jester figures in them.
"The Green Room"'s funny in its absurdity, I find, so that's quite nice.
but it is an interesting tidbit and a reminder that reading broadly can teach you many thing about the world, including things you don’t know you don’t know.
I've certainly learned a lot from both my own projects and following others, so I fully agree!
For "The Love Test", I suppose he might be trying to seduce her by giving her jewels (and maybe she's already married)?
I don't have anything to add to your final thoughts, and I'm impressed that you managed to get as much analysis out of it as you did! Overall, I don't mind this "story", and it is memorable, but it's definitely not one of the better stories so far, and each vignette would indeed have benefitted from being considerably more developed.
Until the next story, then!
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Date: 2026-03-13 06:25 pm (UTC)On my own first reading, I stopped after "The Street of the Four Winds," so Monday's entry will represent the first I've not seen before.
Thanks again for looking up the quotes! Let me also supply the source of the one for "The Repairer of Reputations", then: according to the annotated edition you referred to and this talk page, it comes from Dix épines pour une fleur by Adolphe d'Houdetot (which seems to be a collection of witticisms). I do wish that Chambers had bothered noting who he got those quotes from, if only because that would make it easier to determine their context.
Thanks. I think, in the first story, I was so distracted by "Cassilda's Song" that I didn't really think about the little French epigraph as an opening quote, so I didn't bother to do anything with it other than include a translation.
For "The Love Test", I suppose he might be trying to seduce her by giving her jewels (and maybe she's already married)?
Although if she were already married, I'm not sure that "waiting" would do much good. Maybe they're waiting for her husband to die? But that takes this in a darker direction than I really want to go!
Until the next story, then!
Posted!
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Date: 2026-03-13 09:20 pm (UTC)On my own first reading, I stopped after "The Street of the Four Winds," so Monday's entry will represent the first I've not seen before.
That's about where my knowledge stops, too, since I had at least a vague idea of what happens in the next story before now. I'll see if I was right in never looking at those stories before now soon enough, then.
Thanks. I think, in the first story, I was so distracted by "Cassilda's Song" that I didn't really think about the little French epigraph as an opening quote, so I didn't bother to do anything with it other than include a translation.
And I hadn't thought that Chambers might have quoted it from somewhere else (not in the least because it seemed so apposite to the story, compared to the others)... Oh well, at least I've looked it up in time for it to be of help!
Although if she were already married, I'm not sure that "waiting" would do much good. Maybe they're waiting for her husband to die? But that takes this in a darker direction than I really want to go!
I really have no idea if I'm anywhere near the right track, of course (or if Chambers even meant for there to be a right track).
Posted!
And commented on by now!