The
Countess
tries to speak.
Krasinski - The Undivine Comedy
Voieefrom the window. Henry, for God's sake, come !
it grows so cold,
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 183
Husband. My child ! Must I forsake the child ? Oh,
God!
SCENE III. A saloon in the castle richly furnished.
Candelabra sta72dvpon an open piano, at which the Wife
is seated. A cradle is near it, in which lies a sleeping
infant. The Husband reclines upon a couch, his face
buried in his hands.
Wife. I've been to Father Benjamin ; he said
He would be here at the appointed hour.
Husba7id. Thanks !
Wife. I have also ordered the confections :
The cakes will have George Stanislas upon them.
Husband. Thanks ! Thanks !
Wife. Nay, God be thanked, the rites will soon
Be all complete, and our boy quite a Christian !
The water may be poured upon his head
And yet, methinks, there may be something lacking.
I hope you have invited all our friends
To see our son baptized.
{She goes to the cradle and arranges the coveri? ig. ')
Sleep, darling, sleep ! What is it troubles thee?
Why dost thou toss the covering off thee so?
So, now, I tuck the cradle quilt around,
And cover thy bare arms. What ! off again ? .
My little baby, canst thou dream so soon ?
Lie still, my pretty George ! My baby love !
{She addresses her husband. )
I wonder why our infant cannot sleep?
{She returns to the cradle. )
My little George, my darling baby, sleep !
{She sings. )
Husband {aside). A storm approaches ! Heavens, what
stifling heat !
There strikes the lightning ! Here my own heart breaks !
( The wife seats herself at the piano, strikes a few chords,
ceases, and again begins to play, rises suddenly, and stands
beside her husba? ul. )
1 84 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Wife. You have not spoken to me once to-day,
Nor yesterday, nor during all this week ; —
God ! a month has passed since you've addressed
A word to me, save answering a question :
And all who see me think me so much changed.
Husband {aside). The hour is on me — cannot be
delayed 1
{To his wife). I do not think so. You look very well.
Wife. Ah ! that is quite indifferent to you ;
1 think you never hear, nor look at me !
When I come near, you turn your head away.
Or bury deep your face within your hands.
Oh, husband, tell me what I've done amiss !
Oh, that I could divine what is my fault !
I to confession went but yesterday.
Examined. my whole soul, probed' all my thoughts,
But nothing found which could offend you, Henry.
Husband. Nor have you me offended.
Wife. Oh, my God !
Husband. I feel I ought to love you !
Wife. Oh, not that !
I cannot bear those drear words, " ought to love ! "
They freeze my very heart, I know not why !
Tell me you do not love me ! Truth is best,
If bitter ; then I would at once know all !
{She goes to the cradle and holds up the child. ^
Forsake him not ! Not mine, he is your son !
Oh, let your anger fall on me alone !
Look on your child ! our boy ! My pretty George !
{She kneels before him, with the infant in her arms. )
Husband {raising her from the ground). Forget it,
Mary ! dreams and gloomy hours . . .
Wife. It is forgotten ! Promise ! . . . one word more: . . .
Say that you ne'er will cease to love your son I
Husband. Nor him, nor you, — I'll love you both, —
believe !
{He kisses her brow. She throws her arms around him ;
rests her head upon his shoulder. At that moment a loud
clap of thunder is heard, followed byzvildand melancholy
music. )
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 185
Wife. Look ! What is that ?
{She presses ihe child to her bosom ; the Diusic ceases. ')
Phatitom {etjterifig). Hail, my beloved ! I come
To bring thee peace and bliss. Throw off thy chains,
The earthly fetters which enslave thee here !
I come from a free world, great, limitless,
Where casts the Past no shadows. I am thine !
Wife. Mother of God protect me ! Guard my George !
This ghost is ghastly, — pallid as the dead;
The eyes are dying out, — the voice is harsh
As when the death-hearse grides the corpse within the grate !
Husband. Thy brow is radiant, my Beloved ! Thy
curls
Are gemmed with sweetest flowers !
Wife. A dismal shroud
For drapery !
Husbaiid. Thy form is streaming light !
Let me but hear thy voice again — then die !
Phafitom. She who impedes thee is but an illusion ;
Her life is fleeting as a passing sigh ;
Her love, a dying leaf condemned to fall
With myriad other fading, blasted leaves !
But I will live forever.
Wife {th? 'o'wing herself into the arms of her husband).
Save me, Henry !
Save yourself! the air is thick with sulphur;
Heavy with vapors from the charnel-house !
Husba7id. Blaspheme not, child of clay ! Insult her
not,
Nor envy ! Lo ! The ideal in which God
Conceived you ! You let the Serpent tempt you,
Became what now you are !
Wife. I leave you not !
Husband {to the Spectre). Beloved, I forsake house, wife,
and child
To follow thee !
{He goes. )
Wife. O Henry ! Henry ! . . . Gone !
(-5"//^ falls fainting to the floor with the infant in her arms.
The stor7n without grows wilder. )
1 86 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
SCENE IV. The Baptism. Kinsmen and Guests. Father
Benjamin the Priest ; Godfather and Godmother; Nurse
with the Child in her arms ; the sick Wife reclining upon
a sofa. Relations and Servants ifi the background.
First Guest. I wonder that the Count should not be
here.
Second Guest. He may have been detained ; forgotten
it,
Absorbed in writing verses, — who can tell?
First Guest. How pale and tired the young Countess
looks !
She speaks to no one, welcomes not her guests.
Third Guest. This christening reminds me of a ball
I once attended. The host had lost that day
His whole estate at cards; was bankrupt quite,
Yet he continued to receive his guests
With perfect, if despairing, courtesy.
Fourth Guest. I left my lovely princess, and came
here
Expecting a good breakfast, merry company,
But I have only found, as Scripture says,
" Weeping and wailing, gnashing of the teeth ! "
Father Benjamin. George Stanislas, I sign thee with
the cross !
Wilt thou receive our Holy Baptism?
Godfather and Godmother. I will.
A Kinsman. Look ! look ! the Countess wakens up ; —
How her eyes glare ! She rises wildly, — moves
As in a dream, — comes slowly toward the priest. . . .
Second Kinsman. She stretches out her arms toward
the child.
What is she murmuring? Poor thing, how pale!
She totters — she will fall ! give her yotir arm !
Father Benjamin. George Stanislas ! Dost thou in
truth renounce
The Devil and his works ?
Godfather and Godmother. I do renounce them.
First Kinsman.
The Countess tries to speak. Her
white lips writhe
And twist, . . . her eyes roll. . . . Hush ! what does she
say?
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 187
Countess. Where is thy father, George, my pretty boy ?
(^She lays her hand softly on the head qf the infant. ^
Father Benjamin. I pray you let the sacred rite pro-
ce§d !
Countess. I bless thee, George ! I bless thee, O my
child !
Become a Poet, that thy father's love
May cling to thee ! that he may leave thee never.
Nor ever drive thee from his changeful heart !
Godmother. Mary, be calm ! You will disturb the
priest !
Countess. George, be a Poet, that thou may'st deserve
Thy father's love ! Perchance then he'll forgive
Thy mother, and return . . .
Father Benjamin. You interrupt
The ceremony, and cause scandal. Countess !
Countess. I curse thee, George, if thou art not a Poet !
{She falls to the ground in a fainting fit, — the attendants
bear her out. )
Guests {whispering among themselves'). What can have
happened here? 'Tis very strange !
Come, let us leave the house without delay.
(^During this time the ceremony is completed. The cryifig
infant is replaced in the cradle. )
The Godfather {standing beside the cradle). George
Stanislas, you now have been received
Into the pale of Christianity,
Into the bosom of society.
In after-years, you will be citizen.
And through your parents' training, help of God,
You may become a Statesman, Magistrate !
Remember, you must love your native land ;
Know, for your country it is sweet to die ! •
SCENE V. A}i enchanting site. Hills and forests,
fftountains i/i the distance.
Count Henry. Lo ! all I have so long desired, so sought.
So prayed for, now is almost in my grasp !
I've left behind me far the world of men.
1 88 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY,
The human pismires there may throng their ant-hills,
Struggle for prey ; perish with rage and pain
When it escapes them, — naught is it to me !
I am alone ; will crawl with them no more.
Spectre {showing itself and disappearing). Come this
way! Come! . . .
SCENE VI. Mountains, crags, peaks, and precipices
above an angry sea. Clouds, wind, and tempest.
Count Henry. But where is my beloved ? I see her not.
The breath of morn, the song of birds, all gone !
What sudden gusts of wind ! How black the sky I
Where am I? Have these mountains any name?
What giddy stairways leading to the sky !
I stand alone upon the highest peak :
What a wild world of ruin lies around!
How soughs and howls the wind up this bleak pass 1
Heaven ! What abysses yawning at my feet !
Voice of the Spectre in the distance. To me, my best
beloved, come to me !
Count Henry. Where art thou, love ? thy voice sounds
from afar !
I've climbed the peak, and hang midway in air : —
How can I follow thee through this abyss ?
A Voice near him. Where are thy wings?
Count Henry. Spirit of evil, why
Thus jeer at me? I scorn thee !
Another Voice. What ! a soul, —
Thy grand immortal soul, that with a bound
Could leap to Heaven, dreads to cross a chasm !
The quailing wretch implores thy feet to stay.
O valiant soul that longed to scale the infinite.
And cowers before a precipice of. earth !
O dauntless soijllOnianlyTreaft"! Fear conquers thee !
Count Henry. Appear ! take body ! something I can
seize.
Bend, break, crush, overthrow, — and if I quail.
May I lose what I love for evermore !
The Spectre {from the other side of the abyss). Here,
grasp my hand, and swing thyself across I
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 189
Count Henry. What wild and sudden change comes
over thee !
The flowers leave thy temples — fall to earth, —
Touching the ground, they turn to reptiles, — run
Like lizards, — crawl and hiss like vipers !
Spectre. Haste !
Count Henry. Great God ! the wind tears off thy lus-
trous robe, —
It hangs in squalid rags !
Spectre. Come ! linger not !
Count Henry. The water oozes from thy clammy
hair, —
Thy naked bosom grows a skeleton !
Spectre. Come ! thou hast sworn to be forever mine !
Count Henry. Horror ! the lightning burneth out thine
eyes !
CHORUS OF EVIL SPIRITS.
Thy task is done : return to Hell, old Fiend !
A great proud soul thou hast seduced, undone ;
Admired by men, a marvel to itself!
Thou, ruined spirit, follow thy Beloved !
Count Henry. God ! wilt thou damn me thus, because
I thought
That my ideal, reflex of Thy Beauty,
Surpassed all other beauty on this earth?
Because I have pursued it, for it suffered.
Until I have become a jest for demons, —
Wilt Thou condemn me, God ?
An Evil Spirit. Hear, brothers, hear !
Cowit Henry. My last hour strikes ! Tornadoes
sweep the clouds
From Heaven, to plunge them in the angry sea !
Higher and higher rise the hurrying Avaves ;
Soon they must reach me here ! The earth heaves, sinks !
Forces unseen drive to the precipice !
Whirlwinds of spectres mount my shoulders, drag
Me to the verge . . . .
Evil Spirits. Brothers, rejoice ! He comes !
Count Henry. Useless to combat ; vain to struggle
more !
17
igo THE UNDIVJNE COMEDY.
The giddy rapture of the abyss attracts :
My brain is reeling to the fatal plunge !
God ! the Enemy is conqueror !
(^The Guardian Angel appears floating above the sea. ')
Guardian Angel. Lord, let Thy Peace descend on
these mad waves,
And cahn this raging sea !
( To Count Henry. ) In this same hour baptismal waters pour
On thy pure infant's head. . . . Husband, return
To thy deserted home, and sin no more !
Father, return to thy forsaken child.
And never cease to love him !
SCENE VII. The saloon in the castle in which stands
the piano. Count Henry ^^/ifrj-. Attendants follow,
and servants bring in lights.
Count He7iry. Where is your lady?
Servatit. She is ill, my lord.
Count Henry. She is not in her room.
Servant. She is not here.
Count Henry. Not here ! left home ? When did she
go away ?
Servant. She did not go, my lord : they earned her
away.
Count Henry. ' ' She did not go ! they carried her
away ! ' '
Who ? Where ? . . . reply at once !
Servant (taking flight). The Doctor came; he took
her to the mad-house !
Count Henry. That is not true, — that were too horrible !
Mary, thou hid'st perchance to sport with me ;
Perchance to punish me. . . .
Did he say mad?
