Americans -- Italy -- Fiction; Rome (Italy) -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Upper class -- Fiction
I won't tell you whether this is true, or an allegory, or just
nonsense.--Next, I am going to read you a strange document that came
into my hands. It was written by a certain Hollander who became the god
Mercury in 1912. Will you listen?
Has it anything to do with the Cabala?
Yes. And with you. For I sometimes think that you are the new god
Mercury. Take some of that claret and listen quietly.
I was born in a Dutch parsonage in 1885. I was the despair of my home
and the terror of the village, a little liar and thief in the full
enjoyment of my health and wit. My real life began one morning of my
twenty-seventh year when I experienced the first of a series of violent
pains in the center of my head. This was my deification. Some untender
hand was emptying the cup of my skull of its silly gray brains and
filling it with the divine gas of instinct. My body too had its part; in
this; each miscropic cell had to be transformed; I was not to fall sick
or grow old or die, save when I chose. As historian of the gods I have
to keep record of an accident whereby, through some monstrosity in
spiritual law, an Apollo of the 17th Century failed to completely deify:
one arm remained corruptible.
It was then that I discovered the first great attribute of our nature,
namely that to wish for a thing is to command it. It does not suddenly
fall into your hand or descend in a rosy mist upon your carpet. But
circumstances start a discreet ballet about you and the desired thing
comes your way through the neatest possible imitation of natural law and
probability. Scientists will tell you that they have never seen the
sequence of cause and effect interrupted at the instance of prayer or of
divine reward or retribution. Do they think, the fools, that their
powers of observation are cleverer than the devices of a god? The poor
laws of cause and effect are so often set aside that they may be said to
be the merest approximations. I am not merely a god but a planet and I
speak of things I know. So I stole my mother's savings from under her
pillow and went to Paris.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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