Should wreathe my brow with the laurels of
revenge?
Krasinski - The Undivine Comedy
Eros to our aid !
Iridion. Ah ! who can comprehend her mystic lite.
Who read the secrets of her virgin soul?
Within the gloom of the sad catacombs
She lives unknown to earth, and vowed to pain,
Surrounded by that sovereign majesty
Which ever marks its voluntary victims.
Her face is calm ; so full of heavenly light
342
IRIDION.
Phidias himself could ne'er have caught its charm.
With her last sigli passes away this beauty,
With its divinity of pathos, from the earth.
Against her I am powerless, old man.
Masinissa. Why do you linger? doubt ? She must be
yours !
Not for voluptuous pleasure, idle jest.
But that I know our cause exacts her ruin,
As question demands answer, tones their chord.
Son, when her head shall rest upon your breast,
Her bosom throb, as throbs man's simple slave,
Her heavenly soul forget itself, and sink
In vain illusions of the flesh, — then
True friends will aid us in the catacombs !
My spirit will be with you, and revenge
Take flesh ; embodied — ruin Rome ! {^He retires. ')
Iridion. Stay, Masinissa !
Masinissa. What would Iridion ?
Iridion. Answer as friend — nay more — as judge severe !
Examine every act, word, thought, wish, hope,
From boyhood's happy days — when I could laugh
Unconscious of revenge, my country's shame —
Recall them all ! Dost understand, old man? . . .
Masinissa. Why is your voice so broken ? face so pale?
Iridion. All that is sweet and holy for a man,
Is sacrilege for me — yet I have borne it !
Have I not always kept the utmost faith,
With the ferocious virtue wliich I i)ledged
The vengeful Furies? immolated all?
Has there till now been found on me a stain
Of useless pity or compassion ? Speak !
Masinissa. To know nor pity nor remorse, is yet not
action.
Words are for boys ! deeds are for full-grown men.
You have as yet brought forth no fitting act ;
Your children sleep in swaddling bands of nothingness;
You rest unknown to fame and therefore weak !
Incorporate your soul in daring deeds,
Then in your work you'll live ! your work in you!
Iridion. Alas ! the gods have planted in my breast
That which must be forever useless to me !
IRIDION.
343
I feel the subtle poison swell my heart,
Burn round my brow, and press beneath my eyelids : —
Women would call it tears! . . . Is it that I
Am never destined to become a man ?
Masinissa. This coward weakness marks you most as
man !
Do you not know that each of you might be
Omnipotent through invincible intellect,
Implacable and never-swerving will?
Your mortal enemy foresaw this power ;
To neutralize your force he placed a heart
Within your breast — a dread — and an illusion
You caress as slaves who have accepted their own shame !
This gift makes slaves of women ; boys of men;
Divides the being, and erects itself
In opposition to the mighty brain ;
And thus both heart and brain are paralyzed,
And endless war weakens the human soul !
Thus the Great Foe perpetuates his rule,
Making you wretched, miserable, weak, —
Although to hurl this Foe from His high Throne
If men should will it, might be possible.
Iridion. Who makes me wretched, miserable, weak?
Where is the Enemy whom you denounce?
I know but one Great Foe : — his name is Rome !
Masinissa. There is another, a far higher Rome :
Not weakly stands It on the seven hills.
But reigns o'er infinite worlds and endless stars.
Not puny, driveling men, but countless hosts
Of glorious angels, has It doomed to woe.
Like fools men bend before It, chant its praise
For leave to be so wretched, while the wronged
And beautiful Immortals loudly call
Upon them for revenge on this Great Foe !
Iridion. Incomprehensible and fearful one.
What is it that you thus proclaim to me?
Masinissa. Eternal war !
Ii-idion. When? Where? For what? With whom ?
Masinissa. Throughout the eternal ages ! Every-
where !
Before, and at, after the fall of Rome !
344
IRIDION.
Wherever spirits tliink, or feel, or act :
And with the infinite God !
Iridion. But without end?
Forever? Everywhere? and with the Infinite?
Masiiiissa. I will myself conduct you in the strife:
Meanwhile among the Fallen play your part,
Live on the earth which our Great Foe has cursed.
But one day you sliall raise your head in all
The plenitude of a great intellect
Against Him and His servants !
Iridion. But victory ! Will victory smile at last?
If never here, at least on some far star
I am at last to take my armor off?
At last to lay down quietly my head
Upon some cherished breast in utter trust,
To love and be beloved; to guard, not doom?
Masinissa. Seek not to know before the appointed
hour !
On ! on ! and learn to rule your fi. iltering heart,
To be alone on earth, as He above the stars,
To endure as spirits mightier far than man !
Before you can attain the utmost height
Which man may reach, a thousand times
His hot fires will break over and consume you :
A thousand times death will transform, and fit
For wilder pangs ! You are a foaming wave.
One moment scaling Heaven in utmost bliss.
Then dashed to Hell in uttermost despair!
He smiles on this eternal surge of souls.
Sentient and quivering, breaking at His feet
In ever-changing, writhing agony !
Iridion. My spirit does not quail before this foe —
God should be generous to what He makes :
But it grows late — I'm weary — so good-night !
Early to-morrow come to me again.
I had no pity on my Elsinoe, —
And shall I spare the unknown virgin now?
Masinissa. Think on my words! The nations of this
earth
All pass away — my spirit never dies.
i^Exii Jlldsi/iissa. )
I RID ION. 345
Iridion {throwing off his chlamys). Off! off! You
burden me !
(Flinging away his ring. ') Circle of flame, away !
I'd tear the very hairs out of my head ! . . .
They are not I ! . . . they press and overwhelm me I . . .
The air is stifling . . . is my soul on fire? . , .
Where art thou hid, Iridion? Oh, show
Thyself to me ! . . .
Torment that livest in my heart, come out ! . . .
Who art thou ? , . . I must see thee 1 . . . I must
know . . .
{He draws his sword frotn its sheath. )
Say, blue and glittering steel, say, gloomy fire,
Canst find me there, and save me from myself?
But mark me, it must be for evermore !
No ! no ! Thou too art only an illusion !
Cato once tried thee ; doubtless when he waked,
He found some Caesar there, with swords and chains 1
{He throws down the sword and tramples upon it. )
Liar, who hast deceived "so many suffering souls
By thy false promises of nothingness.
Lie there ! I scorn thee 1 . . . I never can know rest !
Here or hereafter, I must be a slave !
Serpent hi falsehood, lie there in the dust !
{He wipes his forehead. )
What anguish must be borne by one who cannot die I
Eternal agony which never ends,
Immortal combat with an infinite foe !
{He walks tip and down. )
Never to bless a being whom I love,
Never to rest my weary head in peace !
What solitude 1 and what a desert here,
Where all is silent ! Alone ! alone ! I fill
It with my thought, — a thought that ne'er will sleep !
The night has bound my brows with crowns of fire, —
Thanks, Hell-gods, for such royal diadem ! . . .
3°
346
IRIDION.
{He stands before the statue of Amphilochus. ')
When I gaze in thy face, again I hear
Thy holy promises, Amphilochus !
Unhappy Hellas ! Thou wilt render me
Back life and peace when thou shalt press me to
Thy breast maternal ! . . .
Father, the victor hastens to thy heart !
Thou wilt embrace him, for his chariot wheels
Are thronged by haughty Romans; their strong forms
Crouching in chains around his glowing axles !
Oh, what would signify eternal torments,
Provided such a day should e'er arrive?
Provided such a day, 07ie day alone.
Should wreathe my brow with the laurels of revenge?
{He kneels? ) But must I also ruin her? her too?
Shade of my father, pardon her ! Oh, spare !
She suffers not as we ; she has her faith
And her eternal Future, God of Pain !
Poor Elsinoe pours her virgin blood
In sacrifice to thee for Hellas' sake !
To abase the proud, to fling the oppressors down,
To drive by thousands wretches into hell.
Destroy the city, offer the sunny-haired, —
I knew all that was in my destiny !
But to destroy the happy; desecrate •
The pure ; tear from her hopes a being full
Of faith ; put out a radiant light ;
Defile the Cross, and break her simple heart, . . .
{Kises. ^ Amphilochus, thy son, shall he be chased
By Furies, like Orestes? . . .
( Walks up and down the hall, and at last takes a lamp
from a tripod. )
To sleep ! The Benediction of the Lares rest
Upon my father's House, his city, country !
Here it is good and fair, — for here is Hellas !
The star of bliss once shone upon my cradle !
{Exit Itidion. )
I R IDIOM. 347
ACT III.
SCENE I. The catacombs. An antique lamp hangs in
the cefttre of a dijnly-iighted vault. Two sarcophagi
stand in the background. Rows of heavy stone pillars
line each side, until they are lost in the darkness. The
walls are covered with totnbstones, ranged one above
another.
Bishop Victor and Alexander Severus. « Alexander
is wrapped in a soldier' s cloak, with the hood drawn
round his face.
Bishop Victor. Past centuries were the childhood of
mankind !
The creature, as he ever nearer draws
To his Creator, loves Him and man more.
A day will come when there will be on earth
Nor sword nor executioner.
Blessed is he who trusts in such a future,
And labors to advance it !
Alexander. Oh, if I could
But realize it in a single day,
This work of justice, reign of good on earth !
Victor. Son, dream not to attain so easily
Realization of this blessed hope !
For in the infinite sea we call the world
Each one of us is but a single wave.
And whether its course be weak or powerful,
Its surge will last but a few fleeting hours !
Live then, and pass away, as do thy brothers.
But always act according to the light
Which has been given thee ! Consoler be
For all who grieve ; that, placed on Christ's right hand,
Thou mayst see through coming centuries
Thy brethren, still inspired by tiiee, pursue
The work which thou beginn'st to-day in faith !
Alexander. Father, thy blessing rest upon my head !
348 IRIDION.
{He kneels to receive if. ') Caesar will ne'er deny this ben-
ediction !
Prepare thy people for a coming change;
Accustom them to hear me named. It is
Mammea begs !
Victo7' {placing his hand upon Alexander's head).
As I thus bless thee now,
So may thy people bless thy memory
And thee, from age to age ! Hear us, O Christ !
Rise, Alexander ! By the Lord anointed !
Alexander. Be my good genius in the hour of strife !
Hark ! I hear steps ! Forget us not ! Farewell !
{Exit Alexaimer at the one side as Iridion enters on the
other. Iridion is wrapped in the long cloak of the prce-
torians. He lays down lance, helmet, and breastplate at
the entrance. )
Iridion. Glory to God on high ! Let earthly power
Intrude not on His Sanctuary here !
Victor. I've waited for you long, Hieronymus !
Early this morn your servants brought to me
The body of a brother, martyred at
Cecilia Metella's mausoleum. '
The Faithful have received it from their hands ;
The funeral procession soon will move : —
My thanks are due to you, my valiant son !
Iridion. No thanks are due for simple duty done.
Father, I have just left the hall of Cresar;
Fear is upon the face of all the courtiers;
The proctors storm against the Emperor,
Tumult and strife are raging . . .
Victor. Son, I know
The solid earth is changeful in its pride
As are the waves before the breath of winds, —
But that must not disturb peace 'midst these graves !
We'll pray beneath the shade of the martyrs' palms;
Those broken newly by Athanador.
Iridion. Father, our future lies with jiw/ alone !
Your words throw men by thousands in the scales;
Victory is won wliere they preponderate.
Victor. In the invisible kingdom of the Lord,
IRIDION.
349
By prayer and sacrifice I can combat
The princes of the earth ; if you will all
Unite your prayers earnestly with mine
To the Most High — I promise victory !
Iridion. I speak of instant combat, certain triumph !
Father, we are but men ; must suffer, feel,
And hope as men ; and must as men require
A base terrestrial for our daring acts !
Until this hour a cruel power enslaves us ;
We have chosen woe and death rather than crime,
Or to bow low before debauch, corruption !
Insensate pride, senile decrepitude.
Oppressing all the nations of the earth,
Are now the forces ruling this great city :
The Emperor has not sufficient strength
To keep what yet he holds ; nor Alexander
Weight enough to inaugurate a government ;
The power possessed by both will be destroyed
In the approaching conflict. We cry to you !
Will any of you, leaders in the faith,
Strengthen your souls for struggle ; tear the cross
From these dark vaults and bowels of the earth ;
Plant it in glory on the Roman Forum? '
I see the storm-clouds gathering on your brow;
Forgive me that I feel my brothers' shame,
And know the hour is come to hurl down Jove !
Victor. I've heard your words in grief, Hieronyraus.
Baptismal waters have I vainly poured
Upon your head, and vainly taught you of
The blessed world beyond the dreary grave ;
You do not understand the truth, nor cast
The old man, full of sin, from out your heart.
Your fault is deep. You place your hope in steel,
And thirst for temporal success.
{^Funeral chants are heard in the distance. )
Hear you the chants now echoing through these graves,
Like the last sighing of the pitiless storm
In which the Son of God, bowing His head.
Gave up the Ghost in direst agony?
He called not hosts of angels to His aid,
Nor asked for vengeance on His murderers !
30*
35°
IRIDION.
Iridion. Then creeping shame and misery are to be
Our everlasting portion ?
Victor. In your impatient pride,
You err to call a jnoment everlasting.
I tell you it is true *' that only guests
Sleep in this House. "* Not only within Heaven,
But on our fields of Pain, Love will at last
Be conqueror ! All peoples shall bow down
Before Him, and no Cresar shall there be
Who bendeth not the knee before the Lord !
Know you this figure, son?
Iridion. A Grecian lute,
Such as my fathers used, with four chords strung;
It is the Lycaonian Orpheus. ^
Victor. It is a type of Christ. As Orpheus tamed
The wild beasts with his lyre, so our dear Lord
By His harmonious word unites in love
The thronging millions. When we see this lute
We think of the innumerable choirs
Of spirits acting on this earth, we seize
The harmonies that from the Cross's foot
Already penetrate to distant nations.
The Son of God lives by His own great Power,
And has no need of men at arms. i^He makes the sign of
the cross uj^on Iridion'' s brow. ') Believe,
And sin no more. As father truly pained
By a son's fault, I've given you this warning;
Should you renew the error, I must act
As shepherd of my flock, and punish you
As judge and guardian of this Christian people.
( Chorus heard advancing. ^
CHORUS.
We call upon thee from the depths, O Lord !
Receive the martyr's soul into Thy bosom;
Christ Jesus, let him in Thy glory rest!
In dying, ])rayed he for his murderers.
{The funeral train appears, bearing the martyr on a bier ; the
* An inscription graven upon the catacombs : " Coemetcrium est domus
in qua hospites dormire sclent. "
IRIDION.
351
decapitated head rests on his breast; nieti in long black robes
bear torches ; the procession is closed by women clad in
white, wearing close veils. )
Victor. Give me the symbol of his martyrdom,
Sign sacred upon earth as in the Heavens!
(77/(? Pro-Christum is brought to him. *" He takes it with
emotion and places it upon the breast of the corpse. ^
Thine own blood, shed by thee for the Son of man,
I give thee in thy coffin, that thou mayst
Arise with it upon the Judgment Day!
{He kneels at the side of the corpse ; all kneel with him. ^
O Thou who took'st upon Thyself the form
Of the wretched, that the wretched might be saved,
Deliver us from sin ! Wash in Thy Blood,
O Christ, receive into eternal rest.
Thy servant's soul whose pilgrimage is o'er,
Whose wanderings are ended upon earth!
The Voice of a Virgin. Let him behold Thy sacred
face, O Lord !
Another Virgin. And give him such a spring as earth
ne'er knew!
Jridion. From all temptation to avenge him, save us.
Lord!
Chorus. Who speaks of vengeance in this holy hour?
Victor {risi? ig from his knees). Happy are they who
die in the Lord; they rest
From their labors: their works do follow them !
{He lifts up his hands over the kneeling people. )
Rise ! bear the body to Faustinus' tomb !
{All rise. He places himself at the head of the procession,
which moves slowly on, Iridion alone remaining. As the
Virgins pass, Cornelia Metella leaves their ranks and
stands before Iridion. )
Metella. Will you not join us, Hieronymus?
Iridion. I cannot. I must elsewhere pass this night.
Metella. Where? Where?
Iridion. Where you would tremble for your soul.
Although the Christian star were rising there !
Metella. Some plot, I know, is ripening 'midst these
graves !
352
IRIDION.
Simeon of Corinth stumbled against me
But yesterday; he did not even see
Me as he passed; a lion's skin around
His shoulders hung, and his eyes gazed in space,
Glaring with rage and tumult. Ah, wretched me!
Iridion. Why "wretched," sister? The Pastor of the
flock
Declares you purest of the Christian maids,
Nay, one of the Elect: what would you more?
Aletella. Brother, such words seem strange upon your
lips.
Iridion. Metella, seem they so?
Metella. Yes, — you are changed !
Are you the brother whom I taught to pray,
With whom I knelt upon Euphemia's grave?
The very same baptized Hieronymus?
Iridion. The same. Metella, see !
Metella. I've prayed so long;
Fasted so many days and nights, and . . .
Iridion. And you will thus win Heaven, I do not
doubt.
Metella. I prayed not for myself, — no, not myself.
Iridion. Ah ! who can comprehend her mystic lite.
Who read the secrets of her virgin soul?
Within the gloom of the sad catacombs
She lives unknown to earth, and vowed to pain,
Surrounded by that sovereign majesty
Which ever marks its voluntary victims.
Her face is calm ; so full of heavenly light
342
IRIDION.
Phidias himself could ne'er have caught its charm.
With her last sigli passes away this beauty,
With its divinity of pathos, from the earth.
Against her I am powerless, old man.
Masinissa. Why do you linger? doubt ? She must be
yours !
Not for voluptuous pleasure, idle jest.
But that I know our cause exacts her ruin,
As question demands answer, tones their chord.
Son, when her head shall rest upon your breast,
Her bosom throb, as throbs man's simple slave,
Her heavenly soul forget itself, and sink
In vain illusions of the flesh, — then
True friends will aid us in the catacombs !
My spirit will be with you, and revenge
Take flesh ; embodied — ruin Rome ! {^He retires. ')
Iridion. Stay, Masinissa !
Masinissa. What would Iridion ?
Iridion. Answer as friend — nay more — as judge severe !
Examine every act, word, thought, wish, hope,
From boyhood's happy days — when I could laugh
Unconscious of revenge, my country's shame —
Recall them all ! Dost understand, old man? . . .
Masinissa. Why is your voice so broken ? face so pale?
Iridion. All that is sweet and holy for a man,
Is sacrilege for me — yet I have borne it !
Have I not always kept the utmost faith,
With the ferocious virtue wliich I i)ledged
The vengeful Furies? immolated all?
Has there till now been found on me a stain
Of useless pity or compassion ? Speak !
Masinissa. To know nor pity nor remorse, is yet not
action.
Words are for boys ! deeds are for full-grown men.
You have as yet brought forth no fitting act ;
Your children sleep in swaddling bands of nothingness;
You rest unknown to fame and therefore weak !
Incorporate your soul in daring deeds,
Then in your work you'll live ! your work in you!
Iridion. Alas ! the gods have planted in my breast
That which must be forever useless to me !
IRIDION.
343
I feel the subtle poison swell my heart,
Burn round my brow, and press beneath my eyelids : —
Women would call it tears! . . . Is it that I
Am never destined to become a man ?
Masinissa. This coward weakness marks you most as
man !
Do you not know that each of you might be
Omnipotent through invincible intellect,
Implacable and never-swerving will?
Your mortal enemy foresaw this power ;
To neutralize your force he placed a heart
Within your breast — a dread — and an illusion
You caress as slaves who have accepted their own shame !
This gift makes slaves of women ; boys of men;
Divides the being, and erects itself
In opposition to the mighty brain ;
And thus both heart and brain are paralyzed,
And endless war weakens the human soul !
Thus the Great Foe perpetuates his rule,
Making you wretched, miserable, weak, —
Although to hurl this Foe from His high Throne
If men should will it, might be possible.
Iridion. Who makes me wretched, miserable, weak?
Where is the Enemy whom you denounce?
I know but one Great Foe : — his name is Rome !
Masinissa. There is another, a far higher Rome :
Not weakly stands It on the seven hills.
But reigns o'er infinite worlds and endless stars.
Not puny, driveling men, but countless hosts
Of glorious angels, has It doomed to woe.
Like fools men bend before It, chant its praise
For leave to be so wretched, while the wronged
And beautiful Immortals loudly call
Upon them for revenge on this Great Foe !
Iridion. Incomprehensible and fearful one.
What is it that you thus proclaim to me?
Masinissa. Eternal war !
Ii-idion. When? Where? For what? With whom ?
Masinissa. Throughout the eternal ages ! Every-
where !
Before, and at, after the fall of Rome !
344
IRIDION.
Wherever spirits tliink, or feel, or act :
And with the infinite God !
Iridion. But without end?
Forever? Everywhere? and with the Infinite?
Masiiiissa. I will myself conduct you in the strife:
Meanwhile among the Fallen play your part,
Live on the earth which our Great Foe has cursed.
But one day you sliall raise your head in all
The plenitude of a great intellect
Against Him and His servants !
Iridion. But victory ! Will victory smile at last?
If never here, at least on some far star
I am at last to take my armor off?
At last to lay down quietly my head
Upon some cherished breast in utter trust,
To love and be beloved; to guard, not doom?
Masinissa. Seek not to know before the appointed
hour !
On ! on ! and learn to rule your fi. iltering heart,
To be alone on earth, as He above the stars,
To endure as spirits mightier far than man !
Before you can attain the utmost height
Which man may reach, a thousand times
His hot fires will break over and consume you :
A thousand times death will transform, and fit
For wilder pangs ! You are a foaming wave.
One moment scaling Heaven in utmost bliss.
Then dashed to Hell in uttermost despair!
He smiles on this eternal surge of souls.
Sentient and quivering, breaking at His feet
In ever-changing, writhing agony !
Iridion. My spirit does not quail before this foe —
God should be generous to what He makes :
But it grows late — I'm weary — so good-night !
Early to-morrow come to me again.
I had no pity on my Elsinoe, —
And shall I spare the unknown virgin now?
Masinissa. Think on my words! The nations of this
earth
All pass away — my spirit never dies.
i^Exii Jlldsi/iissa. )
I RID ION. 345
Iridion {throwing off his chlamys). Off! off! You
burden me !
(Flinging away his ring. ') Circle of flame, away !
I'd tear the very hairs out of my head ! . . .
They are not I ! . . . they press and overwhelm me I . . .
The air is stifling . . . is my soul on fire? . , .
Where art thou hid, Iridion? Oh, show
Thyself to me ! . . .
Torment that livest in my heart, come out ! . . .
Who art thou ? , . . I must see thee 1 . . . I must
know . . .
{He draws his sword frotn its sheath. )
Say, blue and glittering steel, say, gloomy fire,
Canst find me there, and save me from myself?
But mark me, it must be for evermore !
No ! no ! Thou too art only an illusion !
Cato once tried thee ; doubtless when he waked,
He found some Caesar there, with swords and chains 1
{He throws down the sword and tramples upon it. )
Liar, who hast deceived "so many suffering souls
By thy false promises of nothingness.
Lie there ! I scorn thee 1 . . . I never can know rest !
Here or hereafter, I must be a slave !
Serpent hi falsehood, lie there in the dust !
{He wipes his forehead. )
What anguish must be borne by one who cannot die I
Eternal agony which never ends,
Immortal combat with an infinite foe !
{He walks tip and down. )
Never to bless a being whom I love,
Never to rest my weary head in peace !
What solitude 1 and what a desert here,
Where all is silent ! Alone ! alone ! I fill
It with my thought, — a thought that ne'er will sleep !
The night has bound my brows with crowns of fire, —
Thanks, Hell-gods, for such royal diadem ! . . .
3°
346
IRIDION.
{He stands before the statue of Amphilochus. ')
When I gaze in thy face, again I hear
Thy holy promises, Amphilochus !
Unhappy Hellas ! Thou wilt render me
Back life and peace when thou shalt press me to
Thy breast maternal ! . . .
Father, the victor hastens to thy heart !
Thou wilt embrace him, for his chariot wheels
Are thronged by haughty Romans; their strong forms
Crouching in chains around his glowing axles !
Oh, what would signify eternal torments,
Provided such a day should e'er arrive?
Provided such a day, 07ie day alone.
Should wreathe my brow with the laurels of revenge?
{He kneels? ) But must I also ruin her? her too?
Shade of my father, pardon her ! Oh, spare !
She suffers not as we ; she has her faith
And her eternal Future, God of Pain !
Poor Elsinoe pours her virgin blood
In sacrifice to thee for Hellas' sake !
To abase the proud, to fling the oppressors down,
To drive by thousands wretches into hell.
Destroy the city, offer the sunny-haired, —
I knew all that was in my destiny !
But to destroy the happy; desecrate •
The pure ; tear from her hopes a being full
Of faith ; put out a radiant light ;
Defile the Cross, and break her simple heart, . . .
{Kises. ^ Amphilochus, thy son, shall he be chased
By Furies, like Orestes? . . .
( Walks up and down the hall, and at last takes a lamp
from a tripod. )
To sleep ! The Benediction of the Lares rest
Upon my father's House, his city, country !
Here it is good and fair, — for here is Hellas !
The star of bliss once shone upon my cradle !
{Exit Itidion. )
I R IDIOM. 347
ACT III.
SCENE I. The catacombs. An antique lamp hangs in
the cefttre of a dijnly-iighted vault. Two sarcophagi
stand in the background. Rows of heavy stone pillars
line each side, until they are lost in the darkness. The
walls are covered with totnbstones, ranged one above
another.
Bishop Victor and Alexander Severus. « Alexander
is wrapped in a soldier' s cloak, with the hood drawn
round his face.
Bishop Victor. Past centuries were the childhood of
mankind !
The creature, as he ever nearer draws
To his Creator, loves Him and man more.
A day will come when there will be on earth
Nor sword nor executioner.
Blessed is he who trusts in such a future,
And labors to advance it !
Alexander. Oh, if I could
But realize it in a single day,
This work of justice, reign of good on earth !
Victor. Son, dream not to attain so easily
Realization of this blessed hope !
For in the infinite sea we call the world
Each one of us is but a single wave.
And whether its course be weak or powerful,
Its surge will last but a few fleeting hours !
Live then, and pass away, as do thy brothers.
But always act according to the light
Which has been given thee ! Consoler be
For all who grieve ; that, placed on Christ's right hand,
Thou mayst see through coming centuries
Thy brethren, still inspired by tiiee, pursue
The work which thou beginn'st to-day in faith !
Alexander. Father, thy blessing rest upon my head !
348 IRIDION.
{He kneels to receive if. ') Caesar will ne'er deny this ben-
ediction !
Prepare thy people for a coming change;
Accustom them to hear me named. It is
Mammea begs !
Victo7' {placing his hand upon Alexander's head).
As I thus bless thee now,
So may thy people bless thy memory
And thee, from age to age ! Hear us, O Christ !
Rise, Alexander ! By the Lord anointed !
Alexander. Be my good genius in the hour of strife !
Hark ! I hear steps ! Forget us not ! Farewell !
{Exit Alexaimer at the one side as Iridion enters on the
other. Iridion is wrapped in the long cloak of the prce-
torians. He lays down lance, helmet, and breastplate at
the entrance. )
Iridion. Glory to God on high ! Let earthly power
Intrude not on His Sanctuary here !
Victor. I've waited for you long, Hieronymus !
Early this morn your servants brought to me
The body of a brother, martyred at
Cecilia Metella's mausoleum. '
The Faithful have received it from their hands ;
The funeral procession soon will move : —
My thanks are due to you, my valiant son !
Iridion. No thanks are due for simple duty done.
Father, I have just left the hall of Cresar;
Fear is upon the face of all the courtiers;
The proctors storm against the Emperor,
Tumult and strife are raging . . .
Victor. Son, I know
The solid earth is changeful in its pride
As are the waves before the breath of winds, —
But that must not disturb peace 'midst these graves !
We'll pray beneath the shade of the martyrs' palms;
Those broken newly by Athanador.
Iridion. Father, our future lies with jiw/ alone !
Your words throw men by thousands in the scales;
Victory is won wliere they preponderate.
Victor. In the invisible kingdom of the Lord,
IRIDION.
349
By prayer and sacrifice I can combat
The princes of the earth ; if you will all
Unite your prayers earnestly with mine
To the Most High — I promise victory !
Iridion. I speak of instant combat, certain triumph !
Father, we are but men ; must suffer, feel,
And hope as men ; and must as men require
A base terrestrial for our daring acts !
Until this hour a cruel power enslaves us ;
We have chosen woe and death rather than crime,
Or to bow low before debauch, corruption !
Insensate pride, senile decrepitude.
Oppressing all the nations of the earth,
Are now the forces ruling this great city :
The Emperor has not sufficient strength
To keep what yet he holds ; nor Alexander
Weight enough to inaugurate a government ;
The power possessed by both will be destroyed
In the approaching conflict. We cry to you !
Will any of you, leaders in the faith,
Strengthen your souls for struggle ; tear the cross
From these dark vaults and bowels of the earth ;
Plant it in glory on the Roman Forum? '
I see the storm-clouds gathering on your brow;
Forgive me that I feel my brothers' shame,
And know the hour is come to hurl down Jove !
Victor. I've heard your words in grief, Hieronyraus.
Baptismal waters have I vainly poured
Upon your head, and vainly taught you of
The blessed world beyond the dreary grave ;
You do not understand the truth, nor cast
The old man, full of sin, from out your heart.
Your fault is deep. You place your hope in steel,
And thirst for temporal success.
{^Funeral chants are heard in the distance. )
Hear you the chants now echoing through these graves,
Like the last sighing of the pitiless storm
In which the Son of God, bowing His head.
Gave up the Ghost in direst agony?
He called not hosts of angels to His aid,
Nor asked for vengeance on His murderers !
30*
35°
IRIDION.
Iridion. Then creeping shame and misery are to be
Our everlasting portion ?
Victor. In your impatient pride,
You err to call a jnoment everlasting.
I tell you it is true *' that only guests
Sleep in this House. "* Not only within Heaven,
But on our fields of Pain, Love will at last
Be conqueror ! All peoples shall bow down
Before Him, and no Cresar shall there be
Who bendeth not the knee before the Lord !
Know you this figure, son?
Iridion. A Grecian lute,
Such as my fathers used, with four chords strung;
It is the Lycaonian Orpheus. ^
Victor. It is a type of Christ. As Orpheus tamed
The wild beasts with his lyre, so our dear Lord
By His harmonious word unites in love
The thronging millions. When we see this lute
We think of the innumerable choirs
Of spirits acting on this earth, we seize
The harmonies that from the Cross's foot
Already penetrate to distant nations.
The Son of God lives by His own great Power,
And has no need of men at arms. i^He makes the sign of
the cross uj^on Iridion'' s brow. ') Believe,
And sin no more. As father truly pained
By a son's fault, I've given you this warning;
Should you renew the error, I must act
As shepherd of my flock, and punish you
As judge and guardian of this Christian people.
( Chorus heard advancing. ^
CHORUS.
We call upon thee from the depths, O Lord !
Receive the martyr's soul into Thy bosom;
Christ Jesus, let him in Thy glory rest!
In dying, ])rayed he for his murderers.
{The funeral train appears, bearing the martyr on a bier ; the
* An inscription graven upon the catacombs : " Coemetcrium est domus
in qua hospites dormire sclent. "
IRIDION.
351
decapitated head rests on his breast; nieti in long black robes
bear torches ; the procession is closed by women clad in
white, wearing close veils. )
Victor. Give me the symbol of his martyrdom,
Sign sacred upon earth as in the Heavens!
(77/(? Pro-Christum is brought to him. *" He takes it with
emotion and places it upon the breast of the corpse. ^
Thine own blood, shed by thee for the Son of man,
I give thee in thy coffin, that thou mayst
Arise with it upon the Judgment Day!
{He kneels at the side of the corpse ; all kneel with him. ^
O Thou who took'st upon Thyself the form
Of the wretched, that the wretched might be saved,
Deliver us from sin ! Wash in Thy Blood,
O Christ, receive into eternal rest.
Thy servant's soul whose pilgrimage is o'er,
Whose wanderings are ended upon earth!
The Voice of a Virgin. Let him behold Thy sacred
face, O Lord !
Another Virgin. And give him such a spring as earth
ne'er knew!
Jridion. From all temptation to avenge him, save us.
Lord!
Chorus. Who speaks of vengeance in this holy hour?
Victor {risi? ig from his knees). Happy are they who
die in the Lord; they rest
From their labors: their works do follow them !
{He lifts up his hands over the kneeling people. )
Rise ! bear the body to Faustinus' tomb !
{All rise. He places himself at the head of the procession,
which moves slowly on, Iridion alone remaining. As the
Virgins pass, Cornelia Metella leaves their ranks and
stands before Iridion. )
Metella. Will you not join us, Hieronymus?
Iridion. I cannot. I must elsewhere pass this night.
Metella. Where? Where?
Iridion. Where you would tremble for your soul.
Although the Christian star were rising there !
Metella. Some plot, I know, is ripening 'midst these
graves !
352
IRIDION.
Simeon of Corinth stumbled against me
But yesterday; he did not even see
Me as he passed; a lion's skin around
His shoulders hung, and his eyes gazed in space,
Glaring with rage and tumult. Ah, wretched me!
Iridion. Why "wretched," sister? The Pastor of the
flock
Declares you purest of the Christian maids,
Nay, one of the Elect: what would you more?
Aletella. Brother, such words seem strange upon your
lips.
Iridion. Metella, seem they so?
Metella. Yes, — you are changed !
Are you the brother whom I taught to pray,
With whom I knelt upon Euphemia's grave?
The very same baptized Hieronymus?
Iridion. The same. Metella, see !
Metella. I've prayed so long;
Fasted so many days and nights, and . . .
Iridion. And you will thus win Heaven, I do not
doubt.
Metella. I prayed not for myself, — no, not myself.
