The Cat Who Went to Heaven by Coatsworth Elizabeth & Vitale Raoul

Author:Coatsworth, Elizabeth & Vitale, Raoul [Coatsworth, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Published: 2012-05-15T04:00:00+00:00

Next the artist sat on his mat and considered the elephant. He thought of his great size and strength and of his wisdom. He himself had never seen an elephant, but he had seen pictures of them painted long ago by Chinese artists, and now he thought of a large white animal, very majestic, with small, kind eyes and long ears lined with pink. He remembered that the elephant was very sacred, having been a symbol of royalty in India. He thought of how Buddha’s mother had dreamed of an elephant before her baby was born.

Then he thought of stranger things. For before Buddha came to earth as Prince Siddhartha, he came, his followers believe, in all sorts of forms, always practicing mercy and teaching those around him. The artist remembered one tale of how the Buddha had been born as a great elephant, living on a range of mountains overlooking a desert. A lake starred with lotuses furnished his drink, and trees bent over him with their branches heavy with fruit. But one day from his high meadows he saw in the desert a large group of men. They moved slowly. Often one fell and the others stopped to lift him once more to his feet. A faint sound of wailing and despair reached his ears. The great elephant was filled with pity. He went out into the burning sands of the desert to meet them.

To the travelers he must have seemed one more terrible apparition, but he spoke to them kindly in a human voice. They told him they were fugitives driven out by a king to die in the wilderness. Already many had fallen who would not rise again.

The elephant looked at them. They were weak. Without food and water they could never cross the mountains to the fertile, safe lands that lay beyond. He could direct them to his lake, but they were not strong enough to gather fruit in quantities. They must have sustaining food immediately.

“Have courage,” he said to them. “In that direction you will find a lake of the clearest water (alas! his own dear, drowsy lake) and a little beyond there is a cliff at the foot of which you will find the body of an elephant who has recently fallen. Eat his flesh and you will have strength to reach the land beyond the mountains.”

Then he saluted them and returned across the burning sands. Long before their feeble march had brought them to the lake and the cliff, he had thrown himself into the abyss and had fallen, shining like a great moon sinking among clouds, and the spirits of the trees had thrown their flowers upon his body.

So the artist thought for a long time about the elephant’s sagacity and dignity and kindness. Then he dipped a brush into spring water, touched it with ink, and drew an elephant.

No sooner was the elephant drawn, than Good Fortune came out of the artist’s shadow and gazed round eyed at the great creature standing upon the white silk.

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