192 THE
UNDIVINE
COMEDY.
Krasinski - The Undivine Comedy
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?
{Calls loudly. ) Speak, Mary, speak! Mary! my Mary,
come !
1 suffer . . . Come to me !
Nothing. . . . She is not here ! . . . No word of answer !
{He calls. ) Jacob! John! Catherine! . . . there's no
one here !
The house is deaf, and dumb, and desolate !
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. igi
Can it be true ? . . .
I would not wrong a fly,
Yet I have plunged the heart that trusted me,
The innocent creature whom I swore to love
And guard from evil, into Hell itself:
All whom I breathe upon I blight, — and will
At last destroy myself! Escaped I not
From Hell to do its work, and be on earth
Its burning image for a few short hours ?
Upon what pillow lies that saintlike head !
What cries and horrors wound the shrinking ears ! —
The shrieks and howls of madmen in their cells.
Chained, scourged, and uttering frightful blasphemies !
Mary, this is the home I've made for thee !
I see her there ; her brow so pure and calm
Is wrung with pain — sunk in her little hands !
Her mind is gone astray, in search of me
To wander through the desert — and is mad
With anguish !
A Voice. Poet, thou chant' st a Drama ! *
Count Henry. Ha ! again my Demon speaks to me.
(^He rushes to the door and opens it violently. ^
Ho ! Jacob ! my Arabian ! Haste ! Haste !
My cloak and pistols !
SCENE VIII. A hilly country. A house for the insane,
surrounded by a garden. The Wife of the Physician,
with an enormous bunch of keys in her hands, is seen
opening a barred door for Count Henry, who follows
her into a corridor. )
Wife of the Physician. Perhaps you are a kinsman of
the Countess?
* Through this voice we read the design of the Polish poet. The
Count remains faithful to his character. Being a man with whom im-
agination has killed the heart, everything, not even excepting his own
domestic miseries, assumes to him the garb of poetry, so that even when
deploring the madness of his wife, he is still composing a drama. — Re-
vue lies Deux Mondes.
192 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Count Ilcnry. I am her husband's friend ; he sent me
here.
Wife of the Physician. There's little hope of her re-
covery.
I'm sorry that my husband's not at home;
He could have told you all about the case.
Day before yesterday they brought her here
In strong convulsions. {She wipes her face. ')
Oh, how warm it is !
We've many patients here, but none so ill as she.
We gave two hundred thousand florins for this place ;
'Tis healthy, and the mountain views are fine.
Are you impatient, sir, to see the Countess?
Some say the Carbonari came at night
And carried off her husband ; others say
It was a woman, — and that crazed her brain :
Are you in haste ?
{She places the key in a heavy door and unlocks it. A
room with a grated window, a table, bed, and chair. The
Countess is lying upon a low couch. ')
I beg, sir, you will wait.
Count Henry {entering). Leave us ! I wish to be alone
with her.
Wife of the Physician. My husband will be angry; I
must stay.
Count Henry {closing the door upon her). I wish to be alone :
leave me, I tell you !
I^oice through the ceiling. You've chained up God !
You've put one God to death
Upon the cross, — I am the other God, —
And I am given to the hangman !
Voice through the floor. Off to the guillotine with lords
and kings !
Through me alone the people can be free !
Voice from the right. Kneel down before the King,
your Lord and Master,
Your true legitimate Sovereign ! Kneel !
Voice frofn the left. A comet sweeps in fire across the
sky !
The trump of Judgment sounds — The Day of wrath.
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
"^91
Count Henry. Look at me, Mary ! Dost thou know
me, love ?
' Countess. Have I not sworn thee faith till death us
part?
Cou7it Henry. Give me thy hand. Rise, rise, and leave
this place !
Countess. Yes, but I cannot stand. My soul has left
my body ; only in my brain it seethes.
Count Henry. The carriage waits — 'tis but a step — I'll
carry thee.
Coufitess. Some moments more ; and then I will become
more worthy thee !
Count Henry. I do not understand.
Countess. I prayed three days and nights : at last God
heard me.
Count Hefiry. How did He hear thee ?
Countess. After I lost thee,
There came a change o'er me. I cried Lord ! Lord !
And prayed unceasingly, and struck my breast,
And placed a blessed candle on my heart.
Did penance, cried : " Send inspiration down.
Within me light the flame of Poetry ! "
And on the third day I became a Poet !
Count Henry7' "Mary T '"' " ^
Countess. Thou surely wilt no more disdain me, Henry;
Nor leave me when the shades of evening fall,
Now that I am a Poet !
Count Henry. Nor night, nor day !
Countess. See if I do not equal thee in power ;
Grow like to thee. * I understand all things,
I am inspired, flash forth in words, in songs
Of victory ! I chant the seas, stars, clouds.
Battles and skies : yes, seas, and stars, and clouds.
And skies — but battles? — No. I never saw one.
An unknown word has fallen from my lips !
Take me where I can see one ! — watch men die ! —
* The Countess being mad from love, has but one thought in her deli-
rium : to grow worthy of her husband in gaining his poetic powers, and
winning the affection of him who had scorned her for their want. Under
the mysterious influence of this passion the imagination of the husband
has actually passed into herself and made her rnaa:~ -
17* -
194
THE UNDIVINE COMEDO.
I must describe them all ! The night-dew, moon,
Corpses, black plumes, hearses and swords, shrouds, blood,
Coffins and funerals, — I must sing them all !
Infinite space will spread about me ;
I must seek the farthest star,
Cleaving swift the air around me,
Seeking Beauty near and far.
Like an eagle onward cleaving
All the past behind me leaving.
Chaos dark around me lying.
Through its dimness lightly flying,
Through its infinite abysses.
On through darker worlds than this is.
Till I vanish in the depths
Of limitless black nothingness.
Count Henry. Horrible !
Countess {tJu-owing her arms around him). Henry, lam
so happy now !
Voice through the floor. With my own hand I've mur-
dered three crowned kings ;
Ten still remain : headsman and block await them.
I've killed a hundred priests who chanted mass. . . .
Voice from the left. The sun is going out : the stars
have lost
Their way and hurtle madly in the dark.
Woe! Woe!
Count Henry. The Day of Judgment is upon me I
Countess. Drive off the gloom that darkens thy dear
face !
It saddens me. What can be wanting still?
I know a secret which will make thee glad.
Count Henry. Tell me ! I will do all thou wouldst
have done.
Countess. Thy son will be a Poet 1
Count Hefijy. Mary ! Mary !
Countess. The priest, when he baptized him, gave him
first
The name you chose : you know, George Stanislas;
Then I rushed forward, — blessed him from my soul ;
Baptized him Poet ! Poet he will be !
This is my work; I have won this from God !
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
195
At last I cursed him should he not be Poet !
Oh, how I love thee, Henry !
Voice through the ceiling. Father, forgive ! they know
not what they do.
Countess. Hark ! Did you hear him ? He is surely
mad.
Is it not very strange men should go mad ?
Count Henry. Ay, strange indeed !
Countess. He knows not what he says ;
But I can tell you how it all would be
If God went mad !
The worlds would lose their way in space, and mount,
and mount ;
Then fall, and fall, crashing against each other !
Each creature, worm, would cry: ** Lo, I am God 1"
Then they would die, and lie in rottenness !
The comets and the suns would all go out ;
Christ would no longer save us.
Tearing His bleeding Hands from the great nails,
He'd fling His cross into the infinite Dark,
And with it blast the hopes of myriads of souls.
Hark ! how it crashes as it strikes the stars !
Bounding, rebounding, as it flashes, breaks, —
Its ruined fragments falling everywhere.
Until the dust darkens the Universe !
* * * * * * *
Only the Holy Virgin still prays on ;
The stars, her servants, keep their faith with her ;
But she must plunge with all the falling worlds !
Christ throws away his cross, and God is mad !
Count Henry. Mary, hast thou no wish to see thy
child ?
Come home !
Countess. He is not there. I gave him wings,
And sent him through the Universe to find
All that is terrible, sublime, and grand ;
Have dipped him in the sea, and in the clouds. . . .
He will return some day, and make thee happy.
Ah, me !
Count Henry. Dost suffer pain ?
Countess. Some one has hung
196 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
A lamp up in my brain : it sways and flickers
So wilderingly ! Ah, me !
Count Henry. Beloved, be calm !
Countess. When one is Poet, life cannot be long !
{She faints. ^
Count Henry. Help ! Help ! Send the jDhysician
quickly here !
{Many ivomcn enter, followed by the wife of the physician. ')
Wife of the Physician. Pills ! Powders ! No ; she
cannot swallow them.
Run, Margaret, run quickly ; find the Doctor !
{To the Count. ) This is your fault, sir ; you have made
her ill.
My husband will be very angry with me, sir !
Countess. Henry, farewell !
Wife of the Physician. Then you, sir, are the Count ?
Count Henry. Mary ! Mary !
{Takes her in his arms, covering her with caresses. )
Countess. Darling, I'm well ! I die upon thy heart !
{Her head falls. )
Wife of the Physician. Her face is flushed ! The blood
o'erfloods her brain !
Count Henry. There is no danger, none! This will
be nothing. .
