The Continental Monthly, Vol 6, No 5, November 1864

Leonard is retiring.

Ho, Leonard!

Leonard. Citizen general?

Pancratius. You will accompany me day after morrow on my visit to Count Henry.

Leonard. I will obey.

Exit Leonard.

Pancratius. How is it that this man, Count Henry, still dares to resist and defy me, the ruler of millions? His forces will bear no comparison with mine; indeed he stands almost alone, although it is true that some hundred or two of peasants, confiding blindly in his word and clinging to him as the dog clings to his master, still cluster round him—but that is all folly, and can amount to nothing. Why, then, do I long to see him, long to win him to our side? Has my spirit for the first time encountered its equal? Can it progress no farther in the path in which he stands to oppose me? His resistance is the last obstacle to be overcome—he must be overthrown—and then? … and then! …

O my cunning intellect! Canst thou not deceive thyself as thou hast deceived others?…

Shame! thou shouldst know thine own might! Thou art thought, the intelligence and reason of the people—the ruler of the masses—thou controllest the millions, so that their will and giant force is one with thine—all authority and government are incarnated and concentrated in thee alone—all that would be crime in others is in thee fame and glory—thou hast given name and place to unknown and obscure men—thou hast given faith and eloquence to beings who had been almost robbed of moral sentiment—thou hast created a new world in thine own image, and art thyself its god! and yet … and yet … thou art wandering in unknown wastes, and fearest to be lost thyself—to go astray!

Thou knowest not thyself, nor of what thou art capable; thou rulest others, yet doubt'st thyself—thou knowest not what thou art—whither thou goest—nor whence thou earnest! No … no.... Thou art sublime!

Sinks upon a chair in silent thought.

A forest, with a cleared hill in its midst, upon which stands a gallows; huts, tents, watchfires, barrels, tables, and crowds of men. The Man disguised in a dark cloak and red liberty cap, and holding the Baptized Jew by the hand.

The Man. Remember!

The Baptized (in a whisper). Upon my honor, I will lead your excellency aright, I will not betray you.

The Man. Give but one suspicious wink, raise but a finger, and my bullet finds its way to your heart! You may readily imagine that I attach no great value to your life when I thus lightly risk my own.

The Baptized. Oh woe! You press my hand like a vice of steel. What is it you wish me to do?

The Man. Appear to the crowd as if I were an acquaintance—treat me as a newly arrived friend.

What kind of a dance is that?

The Baptized. The dance of a free people.

Men and woman dance, leap, and sing round the gallows.

Their Chorus. Bread! meat! work! wood in winter, rest in summer! Hurrah! hurrah!

God had no compassion upon us: Hurrah! hurrah!

Kings had no compassion upon us: Hurrah! hurrah!

The nobles had no compassion upon us: Hurrah! hurrah!

We renounce God, kings, and nobles: Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

The Man (to a maiden). I am glad to see you look so gay, so blooming.

The Maiden. I am sure we have waited quite long enough for such a day as this! I have washed dishes and cleaned knives and forks all my life, without ever having heard a kind word spoken to me: it is high time I too should begin to eat, to dance, to make merry. Hurrah! hurrah!

The Man. Dance, citizeness!

The Baptized. For God's sake, be cautious, count! You may be recognized; let us go!

The Man. If any one should recognize me, you are lost. We will mingle with the throng.

The Baptized. A crowd of servants are sitting under the shade of this oak.

The Man. Let us approach them.

First Servant. I have just killed my first master.

Second Servant. And I am on the search for my baron. Your health, citizens!

Valet de Chambre. In the sweat of our brows, in the depths of humiliation, licking the dust from the boots of our masters, and prostrate before them, we have yet always felt our rights as men: let us drink the health of our present society!

Chorus of Servants. Here's to the health of our citizen President! one of ourselves, he will lead us to glory!

Valet de Chambre. Thanks, citizens, thanks!

Chorus of Servants. Out of dark kitchens, dressing rooms, and antechambers, our prisons of old, we rush together into freedom: Hurrah!

We know the ridiculous follies, peevishness, and perversity of our masters; we have been behind the shows and shams of glittering halls: Hurrah!

The Man. Whose voices are those I hear so harsh and wild from that little mound on our left?

The Baptized. The butchers are singing a chorus.

Chorus of the Butchers. The cleaver and axe are our weapons; our life is in the slaughter house; we know the hue of blood, and care not if we kill cattle or nobles!

Children of blood and strength, we look with indifference upon the pale and weak; he who needs us, has us; we slaughter beeves for the nobles; the nobles for the people!

The cleaver and axe are our arms; our life is in the slaughter house: Hurrah for the slaughter house! the slaughter house! the slaughter house! the slaughter house!

The Man. Come! I like the next group better; honor and philosophy are at least named in it. Good evening, madame!

The Baptized. It would be better if your excellency should say, 'citizeness,' or 'woman of freedom.'

Woman. What do you mean by the title, 'madame?' From whence did it come? Fie! fie! you smell of mould!

The Man. Pardon my mistake!

Woman. I am as free as you, I am a free woman; I give my love freely to the community, because they have acknowledged my right to lavish it where I will!

The Man. And have the community given you for it these jewelled rings, these chains of violet amethysts?… O thrice beneficent community!

The Woman. No, the community did not give them to me; but at my emancipation I took these things secretly from the casket of my husband, for he was my enemy, the enemy of freedom, and had long held me enslaved!

The Man. Citizeness, I wish you a most agreeable promenade!

They pass on.

Who is this marvellous-looking warrior leaning upon a two-edged sword, with a death's head upon his cap, another upon his badge, and a third upon his breast? Is he not the famous Bianchetti, a condottiere employed by the people, as the condottieri once were by the kings and nobles?

The Baptized. Yes, it is Bianchetti; he has been with us for the last eight or ten days.

The Man (to Bianchetti). What is General Bianchetti considering with so much attention?

Bianchetti. Look through this opening in the woods, citizen, and you will see a castle upon a hill: with my glass I can see the walls, ramparts, bastions, etc.

The Man. It will be hard to take, will it not?

Bianchetti. Kings and devils! it can be surrounded by subterranean passages, undermined, and....

The Baptized (winking at Bianchetti). Citizen general....

The Man (in a whisper to the Baptized). Look under my cloak how the cock of my pistol is raised!

The Baptized (aside). Oh woe!—(Aloud.) How do you mean to conduct the siege, citizen general?

Bianchetti. Although you are my brother in freedom, you are not my confidant in strategy. After the capitulation of the castle, my plans will be made public.

The Man (to the Baptized). Take my advice, Jew, and strike him dead, for such is the beginning of all aristocracies.

A Weaver. Curses! curses! curses!

The Man. Poor fellow! what are you doing under this tree, and why do you look so pale and wild?

The Weaver. Curses upon the merchants and manufacturers! All the best years of my life, years in which other men love maidens, meet in wide plains, or sail upon vast seas, with free air and open space around them, I have spent in a narrow, dark, gloomy room, chained like a galley slave to a silk loom!

The Man. Take some food! Empty the full cup which you hold in your hand!

Weaver. I have not strength enough left to carry it to my lips! I am so tired; I could scarcely crawl up here—it is the day of freedom! but a day of freedom is not for me—it comes too late, too late!—(He falls, and gasps out:) Curses upon the manufacturers who make silks! upon the merchants, who buy them! upon the nobles, who wear them! Curses! curses! curses!

He writhes on the ground and dies.

The Baptized. What a ghastly corpse!

The Man. Baptized Jew, citizen, poltroon of freedom, look upon this lifeless head, shining in the blood-red rays of the setting sun! Where are now your words and promises; the equality, perfectibility, and universal happiness of the human race?

The Baptized (aside). May you soon fall into a like ruin, and the dogs tear the flesh from your rotting corpse!—(Aloud.) I beg that your excellency will now permit me to return, that I may give an account of my embassy!

The Man. You may say that, believing you to be a spy, I forcibly detained you.—(Looking around him.) The tumult and noise of the carousal is dying away behind us; before us there is nothing to be seen but fir and pine trees bathed in the crimson rays of sunset.

The Baptized. Clouds are gathering thick and fast over the tops of the trees: had you not better return to your people, Count Henry, who have been waiting so long for you in the vault of St. Ignatius?

The Man. Thank you for your exceeding care of me, Sir Jew! But back! I will return and take another look at the festival of the citizens.

Voices (under the trees). The children of Ham bid good night to thee, old Sun!

Voice (on the right). Here's to thy health, old enemy! Thou hast long driven us on to unpaid work, and awaked us early to unheeded pain! Ha! ha! When thou risest upon us to-morrow, thou wilt find us with fish and flesh: now off to the devil, empty glass!

The Baptized. The bands of peasants are coming this way.

The Man. You shall not leave me. Place yourself behind this tree trunk, and be silent!

Chorus of Peasants. Forward, forward, under the white tents to meet our brethren! Forward, forward, under the green shade of the beeches, to rest, to sleep, to pleasant sunset greetings!

Our maidens there await us; there await us our slaughtered oxen, the old teams of our ploughs!

A Voice. I am pulling and dragging him on with all my strength—now he turns and defends himself—down! down among the dead!

Voice of the Dying Noble. My children, pity! pity!

Second Voice. Chain me to your land and make me work without pay again—will you!

Third Voice. My only son fell under the blows of your lash, old lord; either wake him from the dead, or die to join him!

Fourth Voice. The children of Ham drink thy health, old lord! they beg thee for forgiveness, lord!

Chorus of Peasants (passing on out of sight). A vampire sucked our blood, and lived upon our strength:

We have caught the vampire, he shall escape no more!

By Satan, thou shalt hang as high as a great lord should!

By Satan, thou shalt die high, high above us all!

Death to the nobles; tyrants were they all!

Drink, food, and rest for us; poor, weary, hungry, thirsty, naked!

Your bodies shall lie like sheaves upon our fields; the ruins of your castles fly like chaff beneath the flail of the thresher!

Voice. The children of Ham will dance merrily round their bonfires!

The Man. I cannot see the face of the murdered noble, they throng so thickly round him.

The Baptized. It is in all probability a friend or relation of your excellency!

The Man. I despise him, and hate you!

Poetry will sweeten all this horror hereafter. Forward, Jew, forward!

They disappear among the trees.

Another part of the forest. A mound upon which watchfires are burning. A procession of people bearing torches.

The Man (appearing among them with the Baptized). These drooping branches have torn my liberty cap into tatters.

Ha! what hell of flame is this throwing its crimson light into the gloom, and leaping through these heavily fringed walls of the forest?

The Baptized. We have wandered from our way while seeking the pass of St. Ignatius. We must retrace our steps immediately, for this is the spot in which Leonard celebrates the solemnities of the New Faith!

The Man. Forward, in the name of God! I must see these solemnities. Fear nothing, Jew, no one will recognize us.

The Baptized. Be prudent; our lives hang on a breath!

The Man. What enormous ruins are these scattered around us! This ponderous pile must have lasted centuries before it fell!

Pillars, pedestals, capitals, fallen arches—ha! I am treading upon the broken remnants of an escutcheon. Bas-reliefs of exquisite sculpture are scattered about upon the earth! Heavens! that is the sweet face of the Virgin Mother shining through the heart of the darkness! The light flickers, I can see it no more. Here are the slight-fluted shafts of a shrine, panes of colored glass with cherub heads, a carved railing of bronze, and now, in the light of yonder torch, I see the half of a monumental figure of a reclining knight in armor thrown upon the burnt and withered grass: Where am I, Jew?

The Baptized. You are passing through the graveyard of the last church of the Old Faith; our people labored forty days and forty nights without intermission to destroy it; it seemed built for eternal ages.

The Man. Your songs and hymns, ye new men, grate harshly on my ears!

Dark forms are moving forward in every direction, from before us, behind us, and from either side; lights and shadows, driven to and fro by the wind, float like living spirits through the throng.

A Passer-by. I greet you, citizens, in the name of freedom!

Second Passer-by. I greet you in the name of the slaughter of the nobles!

Third Passer-by. The priests chant the praise of freedom; why do you not hasten forward?

The Baptized. We cannot resist the pressure of the throng; they drive us on from every side.

The Man. Who is this young man standing in front of us, mounted upon the ruins of the shrine? Three flames burn beneath him, his face shines from the midst of fire and smoke, his voice rings like the shriek of a maniac; and his gestures are rapid and eager?

The Baptized. That is Leonard, the inspired and enthusiastic prophet of freedom. Our priests, our philosophers, our poets, our artists, with their daughters and loved ones, are standing round him.

The Man. Ha, I understand; your aristocracy! Point out to me the man who sent you to seek an interview with me.

The Baptized. He is not here.

Leonard. Fly to my arms; cling to my lips; come to me, my beautiful bride! Independent, free, stripped of the veils of hypocrisy, full of love, untrammelled from the chilling fetters of prejudice, come to me, thou chosen one of the lovely daughters of freedom!

Voice of a Maiden. I fly to thee, beloved one!

Second Maiden. Look upon me! I stretch forth my arms to thee, but have sunk fainting among the ruins; I cannot rise, and have only strength left to turn to thee, beloved!

Third Maiden. I have outstripped them all; through cinders and ashes, flame and smoke, I fly to thee, beloved!

The Man. With long, dishevelled hair far floating on the wind, with snowy bosom panting with wild excitement, she clambers up the smoking ruins to his arms!

The Baptized. Thus is it every night.

Leonard. To me! to me! my bliss, my rapture! Lovely daughter of freedom, thou tremblest with delicious, god-like madness!

Inspiration, flood my soul! Listen to me, all ye people, for now will I prophesy unto you!

The Man. Her head sinks on his bosom; she faints in his arms.

Leonard. Look upon us, ye people! we offer you an image of the human race, freed from trammels, and risen into new life from the death of forms. We stand upon the ruins of old dogmas, of old gods; yea, glory unto us, for we have torn the old gods limb from limb!

They have rotted into dust; our spirits have conquered theirs; their very souls have fallen into the abyss of nothingness!

Chorus of Women. Happy among women is the bride of the prophet: we stand below and envy her glory!

Leonard. I announce to you a new world; to a new god I have given the heavens; to the god of freedom and of bliss, the god of the people; every offering of their vengeance, the piled corpses of their oppressors, be his fitting altar! The old tears and agonies of humanity will be forever swept away in an ocean of blood!

We now inaugurate the perpetual happiness of men; freedom and equality belong of right to all!

Damnation and the gallows to him who would reorganize the Past; to him who would conspire against the common fraternity!

Chorus of Men. The towers of superstition, of tyranny, of pride, have fallen, have fallen! To him who would save one stone from the old buildings—damnation and death!

The Baptized (aside). Ye blasphemers of Jehovah, I thrice spew you forth to destruction!

The Man. Keep but thy promise, Eagle, and I will build on this very spot and upon their bowed necks a new temple to the Son of God, the Merciful!

A Confused cry from mingling Voices. Freedom! Equality! Bliss! Hurrah! hurrah!

Chorus of the New Priests. Where are the lords, where are the kings, who lately walked the earth with crown and sceptre, ruled with pride and scorn?

First Murderer. I killed King Alexander.

Second Murderer. I stabbed King Henry.

Third Murderer. I murdered King Immanuel!

Leonard. Go on without fear; murder without a sting of conscience!

Remember that you are the Elect of the Elect; the Holy among the Holy; the brave heroes and blessed martyrs of equality and freedom!

Chorus of Murderers. We go in the darkness of night; we move in the gloom of the shadow! With the dagger firmly clutched in our unsparing hands, we go, we go!

Leonard (to the Maiden). Arouse thee, my beautiful and free!

A loud clap of thunder is heard.

Reply to the living god of thunder: raise high the hymn of strength! Follow me all, all! Let us once more trample under our feet the ruined temple of the dead God!

The Maiden. I glow with love to thee and to thy god! I will share my love with the whole world: I glow! I glow!

The Man. Some one blocks the way; he falls upon his knees, raises his joined hands, struggles, sighs, sobs....

The Baptized. He is the son of a famous philosopher.

Leonard. What do you demand, Herman?

Herman. High priest, give me the Sacrament of Murder!

Leonard (to the Priests). Give me the oil, the dagger, and the poison!—(To Herman.) With the sacred oil once used to anoint kings, I now anoint thee to their destruction!

The arm once used by knights and nobles, I give thee now for their destruction!

I hang upon thy breast this flask of poison, that where the sword cannot reach, it may gnaw, corrode, and burn the bowels of the tyrants!

Go, and destroy the old race in all parts of the world!

The Man. He is gone! I see him, at the head of a band of assassins, crossing the crest of the nearest hill.

The Baptized. They turn, they approach us, we must move out of their way!

The Man. No. I will dream this dream to its end!

The Baptized (aside). I thrice spew thee forth to destruction!—(To the Man). Leonard might recognize me, your excellency. Do you not see the knife glittering upon his breast?

The Man. Wrap yourself up in my cloak. What ladies are those dancing before him you call Leonard?

The Baptized. Princesses and countesses who have forsaken their husbands.

The Man. Once my angels!!

The people now surround him on every side, I can see him no longer, I only know by the retreating music that he is going farther from us. Follow me, Jew, we can see him better up here!

He clambers up the parapet of a wall.

The Baptized. Woe! woe! We will certainly be discovered.

The Man. There, now I can see him again! Ha! other women are with him now, pale, confused, trembling, following him convulsively; the son of the philosopher foams and brandishes his dagger; they are stopping by the ruins of the North Tower.

They remain standing for a moment, they climb upon the ruins, they tear them down, they pull the shrine apart, they throw coals upon the prostrate altars, the votive wreaths, the holy pictures; the fire kindles, columns of smoke darken all before me: Woe to the destroyers! Woe!

Leonard. Woe to the men who still bow down before the dead God!

The Man. Dark masses of the people turn and drive upon us.

The Baptized. O Father Abraham!

The Man. Old Eagle of glory, is it not true that my hour is not yet come?

The Baptized. We are lost!

Leonard (stopping immediately in front of Count Henry). Who are you with that haughty face, citizen, and why do you not join in the solemnities?

The Man. I hastened here when I heard of the revolution; I am a murderer of the Spanish league, and have only arrived to-day.

Leonard. Who is that man hiding himself in the folds of your mantle?

The Man. He is my younger brother. He has taken an oath to show his face to no one, until he has at least killed a baron.

Leonard. Of whose murder can you yourself boast?

The Man. My elder brothers consecrated me only two days before my departure, and....

Leonard. Whom do you think of killing?

The Man. You in the first place, if you should prove false to us!

Leonard. For this use, brother, take my dagger!

Hands it to him.

The Man. For such use my own will suffice me, brother!

Many Voices. Long live Leonard! Long live the Spanish murderer!

Leonard. Meet me to-morrow in the tent of Pancratius, our citizen general.

Chorus of Priests. We greet thee, stranger, in the name of the Spirit of Liberty: we intrust to thy hand a share of our emancipation!

To men who combat without cessation, who kill without pity or weakness, who work for freedom by day, and dream of it by night, will be at last the victory!

They pass on out of sight.

Chorus of Philosophers. We have wakened the human race, and torn them away from the days of childhood! We have found truth, and brought it to light from the womb of darkness! Combat, murder, and die for it, brethren!

The Son of the Philosopher (to the Man). Brother and friend, I drink your health out of the skull of an old saint! May we soon meet again!

A Maiden (dancing). Kill Prince John for me!

Second Maiden. Count Henry for me!

Children. Bring us back the head of a noble for a ball.

Other Voices. Good fortune guide your daggers home!

Chorus of Artists. On these sublime old ruins we build no temples more; we paint no pictures, mould no statues for forgotten shrines; our arches shall be formed of pointed pikes and naked blades; our pillars built of ghastly piles of human skulls; the capitals of human hair dyed in gushing streams of crimson blood; our altar shall be white as snow, our god will rest upon it, the cap of liberty: Hurrah! hurrah!

Other Voices. On! on! the morning dawn already breaks!

The Baptized. They will soon catch and hang us; we are but one step from the gallows.

The Man. Fear nothing, Jew, they follow Leonard, and observe us no longer. I see with my own eyes, I understand with my own mind, and for the last time before it engulfs me, the chaos now generating in the abyss of Time, in the womb of Darkness, for my own destruction, for the annihilation of my brethren!

Driven on by madness, stung by despair, my thoughts awake in all their strength....

O God! give me again the power which Thou didst not of old deny me, and I will condense this new and fearful world, which does not understand itself, into one burning word, but which one word will be the Poetry of the entire Past!

Voice in the Air. Poet, thou chant'st a drama!

The Man. Thanks for thy good counsel!

Revenge for the desecrated ashes of my fathers—malediction upon the new races! their whirlpool is around me, but it shall not draw me into the giddying and increasing circles of its abyss! Keep but thy promise, Eagle; Eagle of glory!