I cannot answer as my spirit prompts ;
You are my guest, and shall be sheltered from
All insult 'neath the shadow of my roof!
You are my guest, and shall be sheltered from
All insult 'neath the shadow of my roof!
Krasinski - The Undivine Comedy
Weep ! weep for Christ, — the exiled, suffering Lord !
Where is our Holy Church ? Where is our God ?
Count Henry. Unsheathe the sword ! quick to the
combat ! I
Will give Him back to you ! Will crucify
His enemies on thousand, thousand crosses !
CHORUS OF SPIRITS.
Day and night we watched the altar,
Guarded all the saintly graves:
Bearing on our wings sweet echoes,
High along the vaulted naves,
Vesper bell, or matin chiming
Falling on the faithful ear.
Swelling tones of pealing organ.
Which the angels stooped to hear; —
In the gleaming of the storied,
Heaven-hued, rainbow window panes,
Haloed heads and virgins sainted;
In the shadows of the fanes ;
238 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
In the holy golden glitter
Of the world's redeeming cup ;
In the whiteness of the wafer
Which the blessing Priest held up;
In Consecration, Benediction, —
Centred all our happy life :
Ai ! A'i ! who can aid us ?
Who will end this wretched strife ?
Where shall we now seek for shelter?
Altar, incense, priest, are gone 1
Man now deems himself Creator !
Dreams the twilight is the dawn !
Count Henry. Day breaks ! Their shadowy forms dis-
solve ! they melt
In the red rays of morn !
Neophyte. Here lies your way.
We've reached the entrance to the Pass at last.
. Count Henry {calling). Hola ! Hola ! Our Lord, and
my own sword !
{He tears off the Liberty cap, throws it upon the groimd, and
casts pieces of silver in it. ')
For memory, take the thing and emblem ! they
Belong together.
Neophyte. You have pledged your word ;
He shall be safe who visits you to-night?
Count Henty. A noble ne'er repeats, — nor breaks a
promise, — go !
Hail ! Jesus and my sword !
Voices from the Pass. Long live our Lord !
Our swords and Mary !
Count Hcn)y {to Neophyte). Citizen, adieu !
To me, my faithful ! Jesus, Mary, aid !
SCENE IV. Trees and bushes. Pancras, Leonard,
and attendants.
Pancras {to his attendants^. Lie on this spot, your faces
to the turf;
Be quiet, beat no signal, light no fires ;
If you should hear my pistol, fly to me !
If not, you must not stir till dawn of day.
TFTE UMDIVINE COMEDY.
239
Leonard. Once more, I must implore you, Citizen !
Pancras. Rest at the foot of this tall pine, and sleep !
Leonard. Let me go with you ! Should you trust
your life
To this Count Henry, this aristocrat?
Pancras {inotioning him to remain). The nobles rarely
break a plighted word !
SCENE V. Night. A vast feudal hall in the castle of
Coimt Henry. Blazons, atid pictures of knights and
ladies hang along the walls. A pillar is seen in the back-
ground bearing the arms and escutcheons of the family.
The Count is seated at a marble table, upon which are
placed an antique lamp of wrought silver, ajewel-hilted
sword, a pair of pistols, an hour-glass, and clock. On
the opposite side stands another table with silver pitchers,
decanters, and massive goblets.
Count Henry. Midnight ! It was at this same solemn
hour.
Surrounded by like perils and like thoughts,
The latest Brutus met his Evil Genius :
And such an apparition I await !
A man who has no name, no ancestors,
Who has no guardian angel, faith, nor God,
Whose mission is destruction to the past.
Will yet — unless I'm strong enough to hurl ■
Him back into his primal nothingness —
Destroy society, its laws and faith ;
Found a new era in the fate of man !
Such is the modern Caesar I await !
* i(i "--id -ip. if. -^ if.
Eagle of glory, hear ! Souls of my sires,
Inspire me with that fiery force which made
You rulers of the world. Oh, give to me
The lion heart which throbbed within your breasts !
Your austere majesty gird round my brow !
Rekindle in my soul your burning, blind.
Unconquerable faith in Christ, His Church,
The inspiration of your deeds on earth, i
Your hopes in Heaven ! Light it again in me,
And I will scathe our foes with fire and sword,
240 THE UN DIVINE COMEDY.
Will conquer and destroy all who oppose me,
The myriads of the children of the dust.
I, the last son of hundred generations,
Sole heir of all your virtues, thoughts, and faults !
( The bell of the castle strikes. ')
It is the appointed hour: — I am prepared.
Efiter Jacob {an old servant fully armed).
Jacob. Your Excellence, the man you wait is here.
Count Henry. Admit him, Jacob. {Exit Jacob. )
{He reapj^ears, announces Pancras, and again retires. )
Fano-as {entering). I salute you. Count.
Yet that word Cotint sounds strangely on my lips.
{He seats hiniself takes off his cloak and scarlet cap, and
fixes his eye upo7i the pillar on which the armorial bear-
ings hang. )
Count Henry. I thank you for the ready confidence
Placed in the honor of this ancient House.
Faithful to our old rites, I drink your health.
{He fills a goblet and hands to Pancras. )
Pancras {still looking at the pillar). If I am not mistaken,
noble Count,
This blue and scarlet shield was called a coat
Of arms in the lost language of the dead ;
But all such trifles vanish rapidly
Forever from the surface of the earth.
Count Henry. God aiding, they will shortly reappear ! "
Pancras. Commend me to the old nobility !
You answer like a chip of the old block.
A nobleman learns nothing from the times.
Always confiding in himself, high, bold,
Though without money, credit, arms, or men.
Proud, obstinate, and hoping 'gainst all hope,
E'en like the corpse in the fable, threatening
The driver of the hearse with vengeance dire
At very gate of fatal charnel-house !
Trusting in God — at least pretending trust —
When trust in self is found impossible !
Count Henry, give me but one little glimpse
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
241
Of all the lightnings God keeps stored above
For your especial benefit, to blast
Me and my thronging millions ! Show me one,
Bnt one of all the hosts who fill the sky ;
One of the mighty angels who are soon
To encamp upon your side, and in whose force
You trust to win the victory over me,
And, without loss, subdue the human race !
{He empties the goblet. )
Count Henry. Chief of the People, you are pleased to
jest ;
But atheism is an ancient formula,
And I hoped something new, from the New Men,
Pancras. Laugh if you will, Sir Count, at your own wit ;
My faith is far more firmly based than yours,
My formulas far wider than your own.
My central dogma is most holy, true :
The emancipation of humdmfy !
' itiTa5~its-smM=ee-Tmrild, despairing cries
Forever rising to the throne of God
From weary hearts of millions of oppressed :
The famine of degraded artisans ;
The poverty of peasants, woes of serfs;
The desecration of their daughters, wives ;
The general degradation of the race ;
The unjust laws, the brutal prejudice !
My dogmas spring from infinite agonies ;
Such woes give me the aid of all our race !
I am resolved to establish my new creed.
Written by God upon all human hearts !
Men know He made them equal, gave them all
A birthright; right to happiness, to ease;
- Possession of the earth, and liberty !
This is my power ! These thoughts, my God ! A God
Pledged to give rest, bread, glory, bliss to man !
This creed proclaimed, oh, what can stay its course ?
{He fills and empties the goblet. ^
Count Henry. The God who gave all former ' power
and rule
To my strong sires !
21*
242
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Pancras. And canjiv/^ trust Him still,
When He has given you as a plaything to
The devil all your life ? A jest for friends ?
But let us leave discussions such as these
To theologians, should there linger still
Such fossils upon earth. To facts ! stern facts !
Count Henry. Redeemer of the People, Citizen God !
What can you seek from me ? why visit me ?
Pancras. In the first place, because I wished to know
you:
And in the next, because I wished to save you.
Count Henry. Thanks for the first ; and for the second,
trust my sword !
Pancras. Your God ! Your sword ! Vain phantoms
of the brain !
Look at the dread realities about you !
The curses of the myriads are upon you.
Millions of brawny arms already raised
To hurl you down to death ! Of all the Past
You so much vaunt, nothing remains to you
Save a few feet of earth 3 scarcely enough
To ofi"er you a grave !
The Castle of tlie Holy Trinity,
Your last poor fortress, only can hold out
A few days more. You know you have no men,
Artillery, appliances of war.
Nor powder, shot, nor food for garrison.
Your men xn^xy Jight, but will not stance, and will
Desert you in the hour of utmost need.
I speak the truth ; you know as well as I,
There's nothing left on which to hang a hope !
If I were in your place, heroic Count,
I know what I would do.
Count Henry. Speak on. You see
How patiently I hear. What would you do?
Pancras. Were I Count Henry, I would say to Pan-
cras :
" You speak the truth ; there's not a single hope.
I will dismiss my troops ; my few poor serfs,
Nor seek to hold the ' Holy Trinity,' —
For this, I will retain my title, lands.
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 243
And you will* pledge your honor to the deed,
As guarantee of that agreed upon ! "
How old are you, Count Henry ?
Count Henry. Thirty-six.
Fancras. No more? Then fifteen years of life are
all
You have a just right to expect, for men
Of temperaments like yours always die young.
Your son is nearer to the grave than to
Maturity. A sirigle case like yours
Could do no serious harm to our Great Whole.
Remain, then, where you are, last of the Counts;
Rule while you live in your ancestral home ;
Have, if you will, the portraits all retouched ;
The armorial bearings of your line renewed ;
And think no more of that most wretched remnant
Of your fallen order, which deserves to fall !
You know the People have been long oppressed ;
Stay not the sword of justice as it falls
On their oppressors ! Here's a health ! I drink,
The last of all the Counts !
(Zr<? Jills and drinks another goblet of wine. ^
Count Henry. Cease ! cease ! Each word you utter
breathes new insult !
Can you suppose, to save a wretched life,
I would submit myself to be enslaved,
And dragged in chains behind your car of triumph?
Desert the nobles, whom I have sworn to aid?
No more ! no more ! I can endure no more !
I cannot answer as my spirit prompts ;
You are my guest, and shall be sheltered from
All insult 'neath the shadow of my roof!
My Lares guard you ; plighted my knightly honor !
Pancras. "Plighted and knightly honor" in our
days
Swing oft upon a gallows ! You unfurl
A tattered banner, whose worn, faded rags
Seem out of place among the brilliant flags.
The joyous symbols of humanity
And universal progress. Flaunt it no more !
244 ^-^^ UNDIVINE COMEDY.
I know your generous spirit, and protest »
Against your course, self-sacrificing Count !
Still full of life and manly vigor, you
Would bind your heart to putrefying corpses,
Cling to a vain belief in privilege,
In worn-out relics, and in dead men's bones,
Mouldering escutcheons, and the word of country !
Yet in your inmost soul you're forced to own
Your brother-nobles have deserved their doom,
And that forgetfulness for them were mercy !
Count Henry. You, Pancras, and your noisy followers,
Tell me what you deserve !
Pancras. Life ! Victory !
For we acknowledge but one living right,
One ceaselessjaw ;_li__t he /aw of eternal progress /"
This fatal lawseals your deatT>\varrant. Hark !
Through my just lips it cries to you and yours :
"Mouldering and rotten aristocracy,
Full crammed with meat and wine torn from your serfs.
Effete with luxury, worn out with ease, —
Give place to the young, the strong, the hungry, poor,
Whose vigorous blood will found a nobler race ! "
I will idM^ you, and you alone, Count Henry !
Count Hen7-y. No more ! I will not brook your haughty
pity !
I know you too, and your new riotous world ;
I've seen your camp at night, and looked upon
The swarms upon whose necks you ride to power !
I saw it all ; detected the (? A/ crimes,
l>ut thinly veiled by newer draperies,
Far wilder and more savage than of yore ; —
I saw oLi vices . shin i ng t h Yo\ y^^\new shams,
Whirling to strange new tunes, voluptuous dance, —
The robes were changed, but the old ends were there.
The same which they have been for centuries,
And will forever be while man is man, —
Adultery and theft, murder and license !
I did not see you there I You were not with
Your guilty children, whom you know you scorn;
And if you do not soon go mad with horror
'Mid the wild riots of the cruel people,
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
245
You will despise and hate yourself, Great Citizen !
Oh, torture me no more ! . . .
{^He rises, moves hurriedly to and fro, then seats himself
under his escutcheon. )
Pancras. 'Tis true my world is in its infancy,
Unformed and undeveloped ; it needs food,
Rest, ease and pleasure ; but the Giant grows.
Grows rai)idly ; the time is coming fast
When it will its maturity attain,
{lie rises, approaches the Count, and leans against the
armorial pillar. )
The consciousness of its all-powerful strength,
When it shall say in giant tones : I am !
And there will be no other voice on earth
Able to answer : Lo ! I also am !
Count Henry. And then ?
Pancras. Then from the masses quickening 'neath my
breath, •
Of whom I am the representative,
A stronger race will sjiring, higher than aught
The earth has yet produced. They will be free,
Lords of the globe from frozen pole to pole ;
A blooming garden will they make of earth,
Redeem the desert, tame the wilderness.
The sea will gleam with floating palaces.
With argosies of wealth and varied commerce ;
The exchange of all commodities will bear
Desires of mutual recognition on.
While civilization speeds from clime to clime.
And loving hands stretch far across the waves
To clasp each other !
Cities will cluster upon every height,
Bearing rich blessings over every plain.
The sons of earth will all find happy homes,
Her helpful daughters move in active bliss.
The world will be one vast united house,
Of joyous industry, creative art.
Count Henry. Pancras, your words and tones dissemble
well,
But I am not deceived. Your rigid face
246 THE UNDIl'INE COMEDY.
Struggles in vain to assume the generous glow,
The love of good, your cold soul cannot feel.
Pancras. Nay, interrupt me not ! for men have begged
Such prophecies from me on bended knees,
And I would not vouchsafe them to their prayers !
The coining world \v\\\ yet possess a God
Whose highest fact will not be death, defeat,
And agony upon a helpless cross !
This God, the People, by their power and skill,
Will force to unveil his face ; the children whom
He once in anger scattered o'er the earth,
Will tear him from the infinite recess
Of the dim heavens in which he loves to hide !
Babel will be no more. Nations and tribes
Will meet and understand their mutual wants;
A universal language will unite
All in the bonds of charity and peace.
The children having reached majority.
Assert their right to see their Maker's face ;
They loudly claim the just inheritance
Due from a common Father to His Sons :
''The right to knoiv all truth /"
The God of the humanity at last
Reveals Himself to man !
Count Henry. Yes. He revealed Himself some centu-
ries ago !
Humanity through Him already is redeemed!
Pancras. Let it deliglit in bliss of such redemption /
Let it rejoice in all the agonies
Endured by His disciples night and day,
And vainly crying to Him for relief
Through twice a thousand years which have elapsed
Since his inglorious defeat and death !
Count Henry. Blasphemer, cease ! I've seen His
sacred cross,
The holy symbol of His mystic love,
Stand in the heart of Rome, eternal Rome !
Ruins of former ])owers, greater than yours.
Were crumbling into dust around its base :
Hundreds of gods, stronger than those you trust,
Were lying prostrate on the haunted ground ;
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 247
Trampled by careless feet, they did not dare
To raise their crushed and wounded heads to gaze
Upon the Crucified \ . . . It stood upon
The seven hills, the mighty arms outstretched
From east to west, as if to embrace the world ;
The golden sunshine lit the Holy Brow,
The perfect calm in utter agony
Told man that Love was still the Conqueror, —
All hearts acknowledged Him Lord of the world !
Pancras. An old wife's tale ! as hollow as the rattling
Of these escutcheons. {He strikes f lie shield. ) Discus-
sions are in vain ;
I read your heart, and know its secret yearnings.
If you would really find the Infinite
Which hitherto has baffled all your search ;
If you love Truth, and would sincerely seek it ;
If you are really 7nan, created in
The image of our common brotherhood, —
And not the empty hero of a nursery song, —
Oh, list to me ! Let not these fleeting moments
Pass thus in vain ! they fly so rapidly.
Yet are the last in which you can be saved !
Man of the Past, the race renews itself,
A fid of the blood we sjicdjo-day, no trace
Will stain iif--~morrow I "
If you'afe really what you once appeared,
A niati, stand firm in all your former might,
Aid the down-trodden masses ; help the oppressed ;
Emancipate your fellow-men ; work for
The common good ; give up your false desire
Of personal glory ; quit these tottering ruins.
Which all your pride and power can never prop, —
Desert your falling house, and follow me !
Come, help to make an Eden of the Earth !
Time flies. Resolve! for the last time I speak !
Count Henty. Oh, youngest born of Satan's flatter-
ing brood !
( Visibly agitated, he paces up and down the hall, talking to
himself. )
Dreams ! Dreams ! They never can be realized !
Who has the power to mould them into fact ?
248 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
The first man, exiled, in the desert died, —
The flaming sword still guards the Eden-gates, —
Man never more re-enters Paradise ! . . .
Pancras (aside). I have him now ! Have driven the
probe to the core
Of his high heart ! Have struck the electric nerve
Of Poetry, which quivers through the base,
And is the life-chord of his complex being !
Count Henry. Eternal progress ! Human happiness !
Did I not, too, believe them possible? . . .
Here, take my head, provided that may . . ,
(He remains silent, absorbed in reverie, then raising his
head, gazes steadily at Fancras. )
The vision dies — and I can dream no more !
Two centuries ago it might have been :
Mutual accord — but now it is too late !
Accumulated wrongs on either side
Have dug a gulf of separating blood.
Nothing but murder now will satisfy !
A change of race is your necessity.
Pancras. Then join our cry: "Woe to the van-
quished ! Woe ! "
Seeker of happiness, say it but once ;
Join us, and be \\\q first among the victors !
Man's onward path lies through the People's camp !
Count Henry. You boast, but do you know the track-
less ways,
The unseen chances of the gloomy Future ?
Did Destiny at midnight visit you,
And, drawing back the curtains of your tent,
Open before you all her hidden secrets?
Placing her hand upon your scheming brain.
Did she impress on it her seal of victory?
Perchance at mid-day, when o'ercome with heat
All others slept, the pitiless Form appeared.
Assured you of your conquest over me.
That thus you threaten me with sure defeat ?
Are you not made of clay fragile as mine?
You may be victim of the first ball thrown !
The first bold sword-thrust may transfix your heart !
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 249
Your life, like mine, hangs on a single hair;
Like me, you've no immunity from death !
Paticras. Dreams, idle dreams ! Be not deceived by
hopes
So baseless ! men live tmtil their work is dpne !
No bullet aimed by maTT-Trrfr^*erreach me.
No sword will pierce me, while a single one
Of all your haughty caste remains to thwart
The task it is my destiny to fulfill !
And so whate'er my final doom may be,
On its completion it will be too late
To offer you the least advantage !
{The bell of the castle strikes. )
Hark ! time flies fast, and flying, scorns us both !
If you are weary of your own sad life.
Yet save your hapless son I
Count Henry. His pure soul is
Already saved in Heaven ; on earth he must
Share in his father's fate.
{His head sinks heavily and remains for some time buried
in his hands. )
Pancras. Can you reject
All hope for him ? Doom your own son to death ?
{He pauses for an answer, but Count Henry does not speak. )
Nay, you are silent . . . hesitate . . . reflect . . .
Why, that is well . . . reflection suits the man
Who stands on brink of ruin ! . . . Save the boy !
Count Henry. Away ! away ! Back from the mysteries
Now surging through my spirit's passionate depths !
Back ! Back ! profane them not with one vain word, —
They lie beyond your sphere !
The world is yours,
The world of bodies, hungry flesh and blood !
Gorge it with meat, flood it with ruby wine.
But press not in the secrets of my soul !
Leave me, thou seeker of material bliss.
To my own thoughts ; — I fain would be alone !
Pancras. Slave of one phase of thought, chained to
one form,
The corpse of the dead Past rots in thine arms !
22
250
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Shame, Poet ! Warrior ! Prophet ! Scholar ! Sage !
