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The Image Of The Lost Soul

There were a number of carved stone figures placed at intervals along the parapets of the old Cathedral; some of them represented angels, others kings and bishops, and nearly all were in attitudes of pious exaltation and composure. But one figure, low down on the cold north side of the building, had neither crown, mitre, not nimbus, and its face was hard and bitter and downcast; it must be a demon, declared the fat blue pigeons that roosted and sunned themselves all day on the ledges of the parapet; but the old belfry jackdaw, who was an authority on ecclesiastical architecture, said it was a lost soul. And there the matter rested.

One autumn day there fluttered on to the Cathedral roof a slender, sweet-voiced bird that had wandered away from the bare fields and thinning hedgerows in search of a winter roosting-place. It tried to rest its tired feet under the shade of a great angel-wing or to nestle in the sculptured folds of a kingly robe, but the fat pigeons hustled it away from wherever it settled, and the noisy sparrow-folk drove it off the ledges. No respectable bird sang with so much feeling, they cheeped one to another, and the wanderer had to move on.

Only the effigy of the Lost Soul offered a place of refuge. The pigeons did not consider it safe to perch on a projection that leaned so much out of the perpendicular, and was, besides, too much in the shadow. The figure did not cross its hands in the pious attitude of the other graven dignitaries, but its arms were folded as in defiance and their angle made a snug resting-place for the little bird. Every evening it crept trustfully into its corner against the stone breast of the image, and the darkling eyes seemed to keep watch over its slumbers. The lonely bird grew to love its lonely protector, and during the day it would sit from time to time on some rainshoot or other abutment and trill forth its sweetest music in grateful thanks for its nightly shelter. And, it may have been the work of wind and weather, or some other influence, but the wild drawn face seemed gradually to lose some of its hardness and unhappiness. Every day, through the long monotonous hours, the song of his little guest would come up in snatches to the lonely watcher, and at evening, when the vesper-bell was ringing and the great grey bats slid out of their hiding-places in the belfry roof, the brighteyed bird would return, twitter a few sleepy notes, and nestle into the arms that were waiting for him. Those were happy days for the Dark Image. Only the great bell of the Cathedral rang out daily its mocking message, "After joy . . . sorrow."

The folk in the verger's lodge noticed a little brown bird flitting about the Cathedral precincts, and admired its beautiful singing. "But it is a pity," said they, "that all that warbling should be lost and wasted far out of hearing up on the parapet." They were poor, but they understood the principles of political economy. So they caught the bird and put it in a little wicker cage outside the lodge door.

That night the little songster was missing from its accustomed haunt, and the Dark Image knew more than ever the bitterness of loneliness. Perhaps his little friend had been killed by a prowling cat or hurt by a stone. Perhaps . . . perhaps he had flown elsewhere. But when morning came there floated up to him, through the noise and bustle of the Cathedral world, a faint heart-aching message from the prisoner in the wicker cage far below. And every day, at high noon, when the fat pigeons were stupefied into silence after their midday meal and the sparrows were washing themselves in the street-puddles, the song of the little bird came up to the parapets -- a song of hunger and longing and hopelessness, a cry that could never be answered. The pigeons remarked, between mealtimes, that the figure leaned forward more than ever out of the perpendicular.

One day no song came up from the little wicker cage. It was the coldest day of the winter, and the pigeons and sparrows on the Cathedral roof looked anxiously on all sides for the scraps of food which they were dependent on in hard weather.

"Have the lodge-folk thrown out anything on to the dust-heap?" inquired one pigeon of another which was peering over the edge of the north parapet.

"Only a little dead bird," was the answer.

There was a crackling sound in the night on the Cathedral roof and a noise as of falling masonry. The belfry jackdaw said the frost was affecting the fabric, and as he had experienced many frosts it must have been so. In the morning it was seen that the Figure of the Lost Soul had toppled from its cornice and lay now in a broken mass on the dustheap outside the verger's lodge.

"It is just as well," cooed the fat pigeons, after they had peered at the matter for some minutes; "now we shall have a nice angel put up there. Certainly they will put an angel there."

"After joy . . . sorrow," rang out the great bell.

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Average: 5 (5 votes)

Comments

Submitted by admin on Fri, 08/03/2007 - 22:23

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I enjoyed this story tremendously. Its beatuiful and poetic. It is similar to Oscar Wildes, The Happy Prince, but its different than Wildes story, not a paraphrasing of it. (Hello?)

I dont see anything at all unsuitable for children under twelve, and in fact think it would be a great story for children as it deals with many topics in a very beatiful, emotional, and thought provoking manner. These are the lessons children must learn when they are very young. Two pages being too long for a short story?????? Youre seriously discrediting children if you think that... I hope youre not a parent or teacher or you will fail them miserably.

Sakis and Wildes lived, for the most part, at the same time in history--late eighteen hundreds to early nineteen hundreds (give or take a few years). I dont favor artists who steal the works of others, however sometimes one artist will interpret something, which leads another to think about it, and hopefully take a unique view of the subject matter, and I see nothing wrong with that second person showing us their personal rendition. That the way this story seems to go. Sakis story comes about thirty years after Oscars, and it seems he decided to look at the topic from another angle, which I think he accomplished well. The language, the feeling, that Saki uses is more profound than oscars... both are wonderful stories... but I must say Im partial to Sakis portrayal.

(Although, I do love Oscars stuff, too)

Submitted by admin on Sat, 06/14/2008 - 15:47

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not so bad

Submitted by admin on Mon, 12/22/2008 - 18:25

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I thought it was a stunning piece. It was very sad, but it was also trying to tell us something people find hard to liten to. I believe the story is saying that you cannot turn your back on problems or people with problems. Most of the world turns a blind eye to the unpleasent things in our world, if they dont see them, they dont exsit. The little bird was the one person that dared to be different than everyone else (pigeons) and help, even if it was in a small way. The pigeons are the normal people that just look on and gossip, but never do anything, just hope for the problem to go away so they can stop ignoreing its presence. I think this story shows just one of the many faults in todays culture. Re-read it and just stop and think about what bird you are a pigeon or the little brown bird. Are you happy with who you are?

Submitted by admin on Sat, 12/27/2008 - 13:20

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I think this story was very touching. Its sad how most of the world looks at innocent beauty and either rejects it or tries to steal it away destroying it in the process. I truly hope that the little birds in life can at least briefly touch our dreams so that we can appreciate them for what they are.

Submitted by admin on Thu, 02/12/2009 - 07:04

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This story was coherent in that it had a beginning, middle, and end. But I feel that it was rushed. These 2 pages are a great start to what I feel can be a wonderful story, but the author just needs to flesh it out a bit more.

Submitted by admin on Sun, 02/15/2009 - 17:19

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When the pigeons said "only a little dead bird", I had to close my eyes for a moment. A piece of me died with that little bird and I could feel what the Dark Image felt. This was an astounding piece, thank you for writing it.

Submitted by admin on Thu, 05/14/2009 - 17:20

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what a beautiful story, depicting love and acceptance in the bitter cold of life. How a small gesture (little birds singing) can warm the coldest hearts if we are only patience enough. beautiful, thank you for your words Saki.

Submitted by admin on Mon, 09/07/2009 - 01:40

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nice =)

Submitted by admin on Thu, 06/24/2010 - 18:15

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some of the vocabulary is difficult, even pretentious, however it is a story that touches the heart, probably rich in symbolism.....but one must exert time and energy to figure it all out

sad, and worth the read

Submitted by admin on Thu, 05/12/2011 - 16:35

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How dare you say that, Charlie Creshton! I loved this book, and it was brilliant! Absolutely heart-touching. And how dare you put my name on that hideous response to a beautiful tale. For that, my dear readers of this comment, is how idiots are made. By allowing them to do idiotic things. Really, Charlie.
Arte Creshton and Arthur Dog Creshton.

Submitted by admin on Wed, 11/06/2013 - 06:00

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A very good story, the birds represent the people and the statues represent the world.
The vocabulary is a bit difficult if the story was meant for children.
I think the story was taken from Oscar Wildestories for children. The Nightingale and the Rose was published 2 years earlier than Sakis. Im sure Wilde
influenced Saki for writing this story.

Submitted by admin on Wed, 07/20/2016 - 02:50

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It is not an easy story to read, the vocabulary is quite difficult for me, so I read it twice and look up to the dictionary, and finally, I understand the story Saki wrote. Besides the words "its just a dead bird", "its just as well, ...... , now we shall have a nice angel put up there".......Yes, its a sad story and it reflects the reality of the world things. But I hope that there would be a happy ending instead. .......But, when I think about how a "better" ending to the story would be? I get stuck and think, Is that easy to have a happy ending? Sigh.......

Submitted by admin on Tue, 08/28/2018 - 15:08

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Old story

Submitted by admin on Fri, 04/28/2023 - 17:26

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I must say I enjoyed his "the Open Window" more but this story has its own way to slowly move into the inevitably sad ending. Although Saki did some very beautiful symbolism it was not very biblical. It was obviously a tale of loneliness love and friendship and sorrow.

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