Harun al-Rashid

Abstract

HARUN AL-RASHID PERCIVAL BAILEY* It is told of Harun al-Rashid, the famous caliph of Baghdad, that a courtier, thinking to curry favor by flattery, as is their wont, remarked one day that the caliph must be the happiest man on earth. The caliph grew thoughtful and replied that he had not known a dozen wholly happy days in his entire life. The story started me thinking whether I could remember an equally large number ofunusuallyhappy days in my ownlife. My earliest recollections are of my grandfather's farm. My father had gone to Mount Vernon to work in the carbarns ofthe L. & N. Railroad, and in that town of southern Illinois I was born. But the panic of 1893 threw him out ofajob, and my mother fetched her two sons back to the farm while my father sought work elsewhere. I remember having the measles and my fury at being locked in a room with a turn button so high I could not reach it, even by dragging a chair to the door. And I remember myjoy when my aunt played the small organ. I remember being dragged in a sled over the ice ofthe pond, but most ofall I remember going fishing. I cannot have been more than four years old at the time. The whole setting is still a vivid picture in my mind—the creek which ran across my grandfather 's farm, the big willow tree, my mother and my grandfather, who had prepared the hook and line and given the pole to me to hold.When the cork bobbed, I pulled as I had been told, and out came a little sliver of silver which danced in the sunshine at the end of the line. I ran around like one possessed, shrieking in a delirium ofjoy, and, for a long time, would allow no one to touch my treasure. I have no recollection ofthe rest ofthe day, but never since have I ever experienced such an undiluted ecstasy. Soon afterward we moved away, and I have never developed a liking for fishing. My favorite treatise on the * 731 Lincoln Ave., Evanston, 111. This paper was written for and presented to the Chicago Literary Club, April, 1966. It is reprinted here with their permission. 54? Percival Bailey · Harun al-Rashid Perspectives in Biology and Medicine · Summer 1967 art is not the Compleat Angler but a more modern one entitled To Hell with Fishing! Can it be possible that there is a subconscious wish to protect this ancient memory? At any rate, on that day I was completely happy, for I was too young to realize the tragic destiny of mankind, and no one to whom that realization has come can ever be completely happy again. While my father went to Cuba in the Spanish-American War, I lived with my mother, brother, and a little sister (the unwanted one) in a log hut near the Buckskin schoolhouse. I was a thin, languid boy, with only one playmate, the son ofour tenant farmer, a tough, sturdy lad some six months older than I. The other boys troubled me seldom for fear of Charlie. I took part in all their sports but never distinguished myselfuntil one day at school I was chosen by lot to be the hare in our game ofhare and hounds during the luncheon recess. I was given a hundred yards' start because they expected to catch me quickly. Some ofthe larger boys were soon baying at my heels, but to the surprise of everyone, most of all myself , I suddenly recovered my wind and kept easily ahead ofthem. They finally gave up the pursuit and returned to the schoolhouse. I was, of course, the last to return and face the irate schoolmaster, who had already switched my tardy schoolmates. Now I had my turn, but I scarcely felt the hickory switch because ofmy elation. I suspect that the teacher, who was my cousin, did not lay on very heavily, but it would have made no difference in my case, since I hadjust acquired a new standing in the eyes ofmy fellows, and a great peace had settled upon my soul. I had always been...