Jesus of
Nazareth
!
Krasinski - The Undivine Comedy
Mephistopheles {aside). The Count
Has a good memory.
Count Henry. May God be praised*
Forever and for evermore ! Amen.
Mephistopheles {disappearing among the rocks). Curses
on thee, and thy stupidity !
Count Henry. Poor child ! condemned to an eternal
blindness
Because thy father sinned, thy mother lost her senses :
Being without a passion, incomplete.
Living but in wild dreams and visions, thou
Art never destined to maturity !
Thou shadow of an angel thrown on earth,
IJ)riven by illusions, suffering infinite sorrow !
******
* Form of salutation common in Poland.
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
205
Ha ! what a monstrous eagle rises there,*
Just where the stranger vanished by the rock !
The Eagle. All Hail ! All Hail !
Count Henry. He flies to me. I hear
The whirrings of his great black wings ; they stir
Me like the hail of musketry in fight.
Eagle. The sword once wielded by thy ancestors,
Draw from its sheath ! Maintain their glory, power!
Count Henry. His black wings circle me and fire my
blood !
He plunges in my eye his gaze of basilisk !
Ha ! now I understand thee !
Eagle. Never yield,
Never retreat, despair ; and thus thy foes,
Thy craven foes, conquered, shall bite the dust !
Count Hemy. What, gone ? Then I salute thee from
the rocks
Which witnessed our encounter ! Come what may, —
Whether the Future be or true or false.
Or triumph, or defeat, — I trust in thee,
Herald of glory ! Genius of the Past,
Come to my aid ! And even if thy breath
Into God's bO'Som has returned, let it
Detach itself, descend in me, become
Thought, force, and action !
(^Crushing a viper with his foot. )
Go, reptile, go ! And as no sigh for thee
Will heave from nature's heart as thou liest crushed,
Thus shall they all too plunge in the abyss,
Nor leave regret, nor fame, nor memory !
Not one of all yon hurrying clouds will pause
A moment in its flight o'er heaven, to look
In pity on the army of earth's sons
Whom I will wrap in general destruction.
******
First they will perish . . . afterwards myself!
******
* The eagle is the symbol of ambjtion, evoked, as it will be remem-
bered, by the demons in the first period of Ihe Drama.
iS*
2o6 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Oh, boundless azure of aerial blue,
Cradling the earth : she, new-born infant, wails.
Weeps, sobs ; but thou, ever impassible.
Nor hear'st, nor heed'st — whatever be her moan, —
Rolling forever toward the infinite !
Farewell, O mother nature ! . . . I must go,
Become a man, take arms against ray Brothers !
SCENE IV. A chajtibcr in the castle. Count Henry,
George, and a Physician.
Coiait Henry. All science yet has failed. My last
hope rests
In you alone.
Physician. You honor me too much.
Coufit Henry. Speak, George, and tell us how and
what you feelj
George. I cannot see you, father ; cannot see
The gentleman to whom I hear you speak.
Bright sparks, black threads, pass and repass before
My eyes unceasingly. Sometimes it is
As if a shining snake crawled out of them,
Sometimes a golden cloud. This cloud will rise,
Or fall ; a rainbow then will seem upon it ;
Sometimes they disappear — and all is dark.
I do not suffer, father ; they give no pain.
Physician. Come, George, beneath the shadow of this
arch !
How old are you ? {He examines his eyes. )
Count Henry. Almost fifteen.
Physician. Now turn
Your eyes directly to the light !
Count Henry. What hope ?
Physician. The lids are sound ; the white of the eye
is clear ;
The nerves and muscles not at all enfeebled ;
The blue is deep ; the veins are as they should be.
( To George. ^ Be not uneasy ; you will soon be cured ;
(^To Count Henry, aside. ) There is no hope ! look at
the pupils, Count;
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 207
There's no susceptibility to light :
The optic nerve is wholly paralyzed.
George. A black cloud seems to shroud all things
around me !
Count Henry {aside). It is too true ! his lids are raised,
his eyes
Are opened wide and gazing at the light,
But they see nothing ! blue and lifeless — dead !
George. But when my lids are shut, I can see more
Than when they're open, father !
Physician. Have a care ;
His mind has killed his body ! we must guard
The boy from catalepsy.
Count Henry. Save him, Doctor !
The half of my estate shall be your own.
Physician. That which has perished cannot be revived !
{He takes his hat and cane. )
Accept my sympathy ! I cannot stay,
I've an engagement with a lady, Count,
To couch a cataract. Farewell !
Count Henry. For Heaven's sake, stay! Something
may still be done !
Physician. Perhaps, sir, you would like to know the
name
Of this disease?
Count Henry. Is there no ray of hope ?
Physician. We call it Amaurosis, from the Greek.
{He departs. )
Count Hetny {throwing his arms a7-ound George). But
you still see a little, my poor George?
George. Father, I hear your voice.
Count Henry. The sun shines clear ;
Look through this window, George ! What do you see ?
George. Between the pupils of my eyes and lids
A crowd of moving figures pass, repass ;
Places I know, and faces I have seen.
Pages of books I've read . . .
Count Henry. Then you do see /
George. With my soul's eyes ; my body's have gone
out, —
I'll see no more with them forever, father!
2o8 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Count Henry. {He falls upon his knees as if lo pray, —
rises after a short silence. )
Before whom have I knelt ? . . . From whom shall I
Ask justice for the woe will crush my child? . . .
[He rises. )
Best to bear all in silence! . . . .
God mocks our prayers, as Satan mocks our curses !
A Voice. Thy son a poet is ; — what wouldst thou more ?
SCENE V. An apartment in the castle. Physician
a? ul Godfather.
Godfather. It is a great misfortune to be blind.
Physician. Unusual too at such an early age.
Godfather. His frame was always weak. His mother
died
Somewhat so, so . . . {touching his forehead. ')
Physician. How did his mother die ?
Godfather. A little — so — not quite in her right mind.
Count Henry {entering). Pardon me that I've sent for
you so late ;
But during some time past my poor boy wakes
At midnight, rises, walks as in a dream.
The Doctor ought to see him : Follow me !
Physician. I'm anxious to observe this strange phe-
nomenon.
SCENE VI. The sleeping-apartment of George. Count
Henry, George, Physician, Godfather, Relations,
afid Nurse.
First Relation. Hush ! Hush !
Second Relation. He wakens, but nor sees nor hears us.
Physician. I pray you, gentlemen, let no one speak !
Godfather. I think it very strange.
George {rising). My God ! my God !
First Relation. How noiselessly and slowly he glides
on !
Second Relation. Look at his thin hands crossed upon
his breast !
Third Relation. His lids are motionless, eyes open
wide,
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 209
His lips move not, — but what a clear, shrill cry !
Nurse.
Jesus of Nazareth !
George. Darkness, depart !
I am a child of light and harmony.
And what have you to do with such as I?
I will not yield to your dominion, though
My sight is lost, borne off by the wild winds
To float in the immensity of space !
It will return to me one day, enriched
With all the light of all the burning stars !
My pupils will rekindle with a flash of flame !
Godfather. He's mad as was his mother ! He knows
not what
He says ! 'Tis most remarkable.
Physician. It is.
Nurse {kneeling). O Holy Mary ! Mother of our
Lord!
Take out my eyes, and give them to poor George !
George. Mamma ! mamma ! pray send me sunny
thoughts
And lovely images, that I may live
Within myself, and there create a world
Like that which I have lost !
First Relation. Were it not well to call the family,
And hold a consultation ?
Second Relation. Be silent ! Wait!
George. Mamma, thou answerest not. . . . Do not
desert me !
Physician {to the Count). My duty is to tell you the
whole truth.
Godfather. To speak the truth is a physician's duty.
Physician. Your son is threatened with insanity.
Excessive sensibility of nerves,
Combining with excitement of the brain,
Has caused this state of aberration, dream ;
Being awake, asleep at the same time !
I will explain the symptoms if you wish.
Count Henry {aside). This man, my God, would read
Thy laws to me,
Explain Thy judgments !
Physician. Give me pen and ink.
2IO THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Cerasis laurel : two grains enough.
I'll write it down.
Count Henry. In yonder room you'll find
All things required. And now, kind friends, good-night !
I fain would be alone !
Many Voices (as they retire'). Good-night ! good-night !
George {awaking). Father, how can they wish good-
night to me ?
I think 'twere better they should say, long night ;
Eternal night without a dawn !
And not ^6'6'^/-night, which means a happy night !
Count Henry. George, take my arm, and lean on me ;
I'll lead
You to your bed.
George. What does this mean, my father?
Count Henry. Cover yourself up warm ; sleep calmly,
George !
The Doctor says you will regain your sight.
George. I feel so ill. . . . Strange voices wakened
me. . . .
I saw mamma knee-deep among the lilies. . . .
{He falls asleep. ^
Count Henry. My blessing rest upon thee, blighted
boy !
Except a blessing, I can give thee nothing ;
Nor light, nor happiness, nor glory !
Alas ! I cannot give thee back thy sight !
Already strikes the hour of combat for me,
When I must lead the few against the many.
What will become of thee, O infant Poet !
Without protection, helpless, sick, and blind?
There will be none to listen to thee then.
Thou harmless little singer, with thy soul
In Heaven, yet chained to earth by thy frail body !
Thou most unfortunate of all the angels !
My son ! my son !
(He buries his head In his hands. )
Nurse {at the door). The Doctor sent me here to tell
my Lord
That he desires to see him.
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 211
Count Henry. Yes, yes, I go.
Meantime, good Catherine, sit here and watch
My son.
FOURTH PERIOD.
" II fut administre, parceque le niais demandait un pretre, puis pendu
k la satisfaction generale, etc. " — Rapport du Citoyen Gaillot, Comtnis-
saire de la Sixieme Chambre, An III. , ^ prairial.
A song ! another song ! stirring and new !
Who will begin this song? Ah ! who will end it ?
Give me the Past, steel-clad and barbed with iron,
Floating with plumes and knightly bannerets !
With magic power I would invoke before you
High Gothic towers and castellated turrets,
Strong, bristling barbacans and mighty arches ;
Vast vaulted domes, and slender, clustering shafts: —
It may not be ! the Past can ne'er return !
Speak, whosoe'er thou art, tell me thy Faith !
To abandon life were task more easy far
Than to invent a Faith and then believe it.
Or call it back to life again when dead !
Shame ! shame upon you all ! Strong-minded spirits.
Or spirits weak and vain, — all miserable, —
Without or heart or brain ; in spite of you.
The world is rushing onward, ever on
To its own destinies !
It whirls you on, making wild sport of you.
Urges you forward, backward, as it will.
Planting your feet, or overturning you : —
You have no power to fuse it in your mould !
As in predestined ring the earth rolls on.
Maskers appear, vanish, and reappear,
Whirled in resistless circles round and round.
[2 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
As ways grow slippery with blood, they fall !
The Dance of Death goes on : Blood everywhere !
New couples join the ring ! Abyss of blood !
The world is crimsoning ! , . . I speak the truth.
What throngs of people seize the city gates,
Surround the hills, press through the sheltered vales 1
Beneath the shadows of the trees great tents
Are spread ; long boards are placed on pikes, on clubs,
And fallen tree-trunks ; these as tables serve.
And soon are filled with food, meat, bread, and drink.
The excited masses seat and help tliemselves ;
The full cups quickly pass from hand to hand,
And as they touch the eager, thirsty mouths.
Threats, oaths, and curses pour from heated lips.
Faster and faster fly the ruby cups.
Beaded and bubbling, ever emptying, filling,
Striking and clinking as they pass, repass.
With their metallic ring and brilliant sparkle.
Among the thirsty millions. Hurrah ! hurrah !
Long live the cup of drunkenness and joy !
Fierce and more fierce the agitation grows.
They wait impatiently; murmurs increase.
Break into riotous shouts and dangerous cries.
Poor wretches, scarcely covered even with rags.
The stamj) of weary labors deeply ploughed
Upon their sunburnt, rugged faces, set
With uncombed, shaggy, bristling, matted hair !
Great drops of sweat start from their knotted brows;
Their sinewy, horny hands are armed with spades.
With axes, hammers, shovels, scythes, and flails.
Look at that stalwart man who holds a pick ;
At that stout youth who brandishes a club ;
One holds aloft a gun with glittering pike ;
With brawny arm another hurls a hatchet.
A boy with one hand crams his mouth with cherries,
The other thrusts an awl into the tree.
Look, how their women crowd by thousands on !
Maids, wives and mothers, famished as themselves,
Faded l^efore their time, all beauty gone,
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 213
With hair disheveled, tarnished and soiled with dust.
In deep, dark sockets sunk, their rayless eyes
Gleam dead and sinister, as if they mocked
A living, human look !
But they will soon be brighter, for the cup
Flies full from lip to lip ; they quaff long draughts:—
Hurrah ! Hurrah 1 Long live the foaming bowl
Of drunkenness and joy !
Hark ! murmurs rustle through the living mass !
A cry of joy or terror ? Who can read
The meaning of a sound from myriad mouths,
Monstrously multiform ?
A man arrives, he mounts a table, speaks,
Harangues and sways the noisy multitude.
His voice drags harshly, grates upon the ear,
But hacks itself in short, strong, racy words.
Easily heard, and easily remembered.
His gestures suit his words, as music, song.
His brow is broad and high, his head quite bald j
Thought has uprooted his last hair. His skin
Is dull and tawny, and the tell-tale blood
Ne'er lights its dingy pallor ;_feeling ne'er
Painted its living secrets there. Between
The bone and muscle of his parchment face
Deep wrinkles form and weave their yellow lines.
A heavy beard, like garland black, unwreaths
The face where no emotion ever throbs.
He gazes steadily upon the crowd.
Nor doubt nor agitation ever clouds
His clear cold eye, delays his strident voice.
He lifts his arm, and holds it stiff and straight
Stretched o'er the swaying throng who lowly bow,
Ready to kneel before him to receive
The blessing of a powerful intellect.
Not that of a great heart.
Down, down with all great hearts ! Away with them !
Away with all old castes and prejudice !
Hurrah for consolation, joy, and murder !
This is the people's idol, whom they love
With passion, rage ; he is their autocrat,
19
214
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Rules all the tides of their enthusiasm ;
They swear by him ; he plays on all their stops.
He tells them they shall have bread, sports, wine, gold : —
Their cries swell like the rushing of a storm,
And echo everywhere repeats the applause :
" Hurrah for Pancras ! Bread, and wine, and gold,
For us, our children, wives ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! "
Leaning against the table where he stands,
And at his feet, is seen his servant, friend,
Disciple ; one whose dark eye, glittering through
Long, dusky lashes, marks his Orient race.
His shoulders droop, he sways from side to side.
As if his indolent limbs could scarce support his frame.
His lips are full, voluptuous, and cruel ;
His fingers gleam with rings and precious stones.
With deep and guttural voice, he also cries :
"Hurrah for Pancras! "
The orator looks down
Upon him, smiles, and says to him : " Give me
My handkerchief. Citizen Neophyte! "
Meantime, the tumult ever louder grows :
" Death to the nobles ! " " To the merchants, death 1"
" Death to the speculators ! " " Bread ! Wine ! Blood ! "
SCENE L A tabernacle. Lamps.
