PART III.

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THE

CONTINENTAL MONTHLY:

DEVOTED TO

LITERATURE AND NATIONAL POLICY.

VOL. VI.--NOVEMBER, 1864--No. V.

THE PROGRESS OF LIBERTY IN THE UNITED STATES.

There are three classes of persons in the loyal States of this Union who

proclaim the present civil war unnecessary, and clamor for peace at any

price: first, a multitude of people, so ignorant of the history of the

country that they do not know what the conflict is about; secondly, a

smaller class of better-informed citizens, who have no moral

comprehension of the inevitable opposition of democracy and aristocracy,

free society and slave society, and who believe sincerely that a

permanent compromise or trade can be negotiated between these opposing

forces in human affairs; thirdly, a clique of demagogues, who are trying

to use these two classes of people to paralyze the Government, and force

it into a surrender to the rebels on such terms as they choose to

dictate: their separation from the United States or recall to their old

power in a restored and reconstructed Union.

It will be my purpose, in this article, to show the complete fallacy of

this notion, by presenting the facts concerning the progress of the

different portions of our country in the American idea of liberty during

the years preceding this war. The census of 1860, if honestly studied,

must convince any unprejudiced man, at home or abroad, that the Slave

Power deliberately brought this war upon the United States, to save

itself from destruction by the irresistible and powerful growth of free

society in the Union. This war had the same origin and necessity of

every great conflict between the people and the aristocracy since the

world began.

Every war of this kind in history has been the result of the advancement

of the people in liberty. Now the people have inaugurated the conflict

against the aristocracy, either in the interest of self-government, or

an imperial rule which should virtually rest upon their suffrage. Now

the aristocracy has risen upon the people, who were becoming too strong

and free, to conquer and govern them through republican or monarchical

forms of society. There has always been an irrepressible conflict

between aristocracy and democracy; in times of peace carried on by all

the agencies of popular advancement; but in every nation finally

bursting into civil war. And every such war, however slow its progress,

or uncertain its immediate consequence, has finally left the mass of

the people nearer liberty than it found them.

The northern Grecian states represented the cause of the people; and the

oriental empires the cause of the few. These little states grew so

rapidly that the despots of Asia became alarmed, and organized gigantic

expeditions to destroy them. At Marathon and Salamis, the people's cause

met and drove back the mighty invasion; and two hundred years later,

under the lead of Alexander, dissolved every Asiatic empire, from the

Mediterranean to the Euphrates, to its original elements.

Julius Caesar destroyed the power of the old Roman aristocracy in the

interest of the people of the Roman empire. Under the name of 'The

Republic,' that patrician class had oppressed the people of Rome and her

provinces for years as never was people oppressed before. After fifty

years of civil war, Julius and Augustus Caesar organized the masses of

this world-wide empire, and established a government under which the

aristocracy was fearfully worried, but which administered such, justice

to the world as had never before been possible.

The religious wars of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, which

involved the whole of Europe for eighty years, were begun by the civil

and religious aristocracy of Europe to crush the progress of religious

and civil liberty among the people. These wars continued until religious

freedom was established in Germany, Holland, and Great Britain, and

those seeds of political liberty sown that afterward sprang up in the

American republic.

The English civil wars of the seventeenth century were begun by the king

and great nobles to suppress the rising power of the commons, and

continued till constitutional liberty was practically secured to all the

subjects of the British empire.

The French Revolution was the revolt of the people of France against one

of the most cruel and tyrannical aristocracies that ever reigned; and

continued, with brief interruptions, till the people of both France and

Italy had vindicated the right to choose their emperors by popular

suffrage.

During the half century between the years 1775 and 1825, every people in

North America had thrown off the power of a foreign aristocracy by war,

and established a republican form of government, except the Canadas,

which secured the same practical results by more peaceful methods.

The historian perceives that each of these great wars was an inevitable

condition of liberty for the people, and has exalted their condition. In

all these struggles there were the same kinds of opponents to the war:

the ignorant, who knew nothing about it; the morally indifferent, who

could not see why freemen and tyrants could not agree to live together

in amity; and the demagogues, who were willing to ruin the country to

exalt themselves. But we now understand that only through these red

gates of war could the peoples of the world have marched up to their

present enjoyment of liberty; that each naming portal is a triumphal

arch, on which is inscribed some great conquest for mankind.

The present civil war in the United States is the last frantic attempt

of this dying feudal aristocracy to save itself from inevitable

dissolution. The election of Mr. Lincoln as President of the United

States, in 1860, by the vote of every Free State, was the announcement

to the world that the people of the United States had finally and

decisively conquered the feudal aristocracy of the republic after a

civil contest of eighty years. With no weapons but those placed in their

hands by the Constitution of the United States, the freemen of the

republic had practically put this great slave aristocracy under their

feet forever. That portion of the Union which was controlled by the will

of the whole people had become so decidedly superior in every attribute

of power and civilization, that the slave aristocracy despaired of

further peaceful resistance to the march of liberty through the land.

Like every other aristocracy that has lived, it drew the sword on the

people, either to subdue the whole country, or carry off a portion of

it, to be governed in the interests of an oligarchy.

This great people was not plunged into civil war by unfriendly talking,

or by the unfriendly legislation of the Northern people, or by the

accidental election of Abraham Lincoln as President. Nations do not go

to war for hard words or trifling acts of unfriendliness or accidental

political changes; although these may be the ostensible causes of

war--the sparks that finally explode the magazine. There was a real

cause for this rebellion--_the peaceful, constitutional triumph of the

people over the aristocracy of the republic, after a struggle of eighty

years_. If ever a great oligarchy had good reason to fight, it was the

Slave Power in 1860. It found itself defeated and condemned to a

secondary position in the republic, with the assurance that its death

was only a question of time. It is always a good cause of war to an

aristocracy that its power is abridged; for an aristocracy cares only

for itself, and honestly regards its own supremacy as the chief interest

on earth. This Slave Power has only done what every such power has done

since the foundation of the world. It has drawn the sword against the

inevitable progress of mankind, and will be conquered by mankind. It is

waging this terrible war, not against Northern Abolitionists, or the

present Administration, _but against the United States census tables of

1860_; against the mighty realities of the progress of free society in

the republic, which have startled us all; but with which no class of men

were so well acquainted as Mr. Jefferson Davis and his associates in

rebellion.

There has always been a conflict in our country between this old slave

aristocracy and the people. The first great victory of the people was in

the war of the Revolution. That war was inaugurated and forced upon the

country by the masses of the people of the New England and Middle

States. The aristocracy of the South, with their associates in the

North, resisted the movement to separate the people from the crown of

Great Britain, till resistance was impossible, and then came in, to some

extent, to lead the movement and appropriate the rewards of success. But

the free people of the North brought on and sustained the war.

Massachusetts was then the fourth province in population; but she sent

eight thousand more soldiers to the field during those bloody eight

years than all the Southern States united. Virginia was then the empire

State of the Union, and Rhode Island the least; but great, aristocratic

Virginia furnished only seven hundred more soldiers than little,

democratic Rhode Island. New England furnished more than half the troops

raised during the Revolution; and the great centres of aristocracy in

the Middle and Southern States were the stronghold of Toryism during the

war. Indeed, a glance at the map of the Eastern and Middle States

reveals the fact that the headquarters of the 'peace party' in the

Revolutionary and the present war are in precisely the same localities.

The 'Copperhead' districts of New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania are

the old Tory districts of the Revolution. The Tories of that day, with

the mass of the Southern aristocracy, tried to 'stop the war' which was

to lay the foundations of the freedom of all men. The Tories of to-day

are engaged in the same infamous enterprise, and their fate will be the

same.

Had the Slave Power been united in 1776, we should never have gained our

independence. But it was divided. Every State was nominally a Slave

State; but slaveholders were divided into two classes. The first was led

by Washington, Jefferson, Madison, and other illustrious aristocrats,

North and South; and, like the Liberal lords of Great Britain, threw

their influence on the side of the people. This party, very strong in

Virginia, very weak in the Carolinas, dragged the South through the war

by the hair of its head; and compelled it to come into the Union. It

also resolved to abolish the Slave Power, and succeeded in consecrating

the whole Northwestern territory to freedom as early as 1790. The

opposition party had its headquarters at Charleston, was treasonable or

luke-warm during the war, and refused to come into the Union without

guarantees for slavery.

The result of the whole struggle was, that the people of the thirteen

colonies, with the help of a portion of their aristocracy, severed the

country from Great Britain, and established a Government by which they,

the people, believed themselves able, in time, to control the whole

Union, and secure personal liberty in every State. For 'the compromises

of the Constitution' mean just this: that our National Government was a

great arena on which aristocracy and democracy could have a free fight.

If the aristocracy beat, that Government would be made as despotic as

South Carolina; if the democracy triumphed, it would become as free as

Massachusetts. That was what the people had never before achieved: _a

free field to work for a Christian democracy_. God bless the sturdy

people of New England and the Middle States for this! God bless George

Washington and Thomas Jefferson, John Marshall and the liberal gentlemen

of the Old Dominion, for helping the people do it. They did not win the

victory, as many have supposed; but they bravely helped to lead the

people of the Free States to this great military and civil achievement.

Virginia was richly paid for the service of her aristocracy. But history

tells us who did the work, and how nobly it was done.

The republic was now established, with a Constitution which might be

made to uphold a democratic or an aristocratic government, as either

party should triumph. The Slave Power, forced half reluctantly into the

Union, now began to conspire to rule it for its own uses. All that was

necessary, it thought, was to unite the aristocracy against the people.

And this work was at once well begun. The first census was taken in

1790, and the last in 1860. This period divides itself, historically,

into two portions. The thirty years from 1780 may be regarded as the

period of the _consolidation of the Slave Power, and its first distinct

appearance as a great sectional aristocracy in 1820, in the struggle

that resulted in the 'Missouri Compromise_.' The forty years succeeding

1820 may be called the period of the _consolidation of freedom to resist

this assault, and the final triumph of democracy in 1860, by the

election of a President_.

The first thirty years was a period of incessant activity by the slave

aristocracy. It incurred a nominal loss in the abolition of slavery in

eight Eastern and Middle States, and the consecration of the great

Northwestern territory to freedom; out of which three great Free States

had already been carved; making, in 1820, eleven Free States. But it had

gained by the concentration of its power below the line of the Ohio and

Pennsylvania boundary, the division of the territory belonging to the

Carolinas, and the Louisiana purchase; whereby it had gained five new

Slave States; making the number of Slave States equal to the

Free--eleven. It put forward the liberal aristocracy of Virginia to

occupy the Presidential chair during thirty-two of the thirty-six years

between 1789 and 1825; thus compelling Virginia and Maryland to a firm

alliance with itself. It had man[oe]uvred the country through a great

political struggle and a foreign war, both of which were chiefly

engineered to secure the consolidation of the slave aristocracy. In

1820 its power was extended in eleven States, containing four hundred

and twenty-four thousand square miles, with one hundred and seventy-nine

thousand square miles of territory sure to come in as Slave States; and

the remainder of the Louisiana purchase not secure to liberty. It had a

white population only seven hundred thousand less, while its white and

black population was a million more than all the Free States.

The North was barely half as large in area of States: two hundred and

seventy thousand square miles, with only one hundred thousand square

miles in reserve of the territory dedicated to liberty. With an equality

of representation in the Senate of the United States, and a firm hold of

all the branches of the Government, the prospect of the oligarchy for

success was brilliant. In every nation the aristocracy first gets

possession, organizes first, and proceeds deliberately to seize and

administer the government. The people are always unsuspicious, slow,

late in organizing, and seem to blunder into success or be led to it by

a Providence higher than themselves. In this Government the slave

aristocracy first consolidated, and in 1820 appeared boldly on the

arena, claiming the superiority, and threatening ruin to the republic in

the event of the failure of their plans. It had managed so well that

there was now no division in its ranks, and for the last forty years has

moved forward in solid column to repeated assaults on liberty.

The people, as usual, did not suspect the existence of this concentrated

power till 1820. They made a brave militia fight then against the

aristocracy, and compelled it to acknowledge a drawn battle by the

admission of Maine to balance Missouri, and the establishment of a line

of compromise, which would leave all territory north of 36 deg. 30'

consecrated to freedom. The Slave Power submitted with anger, intending

to break the bargain as soon as it was strong enough, and continued on

its relentless struggle for power. It determined to gain possession of

the Senate of the United States; make it a house of nobles; control

through it the foreign policy, the Executive, and the Supreme Court;

and, with this advantage, reckoned it could always manage the House of

Representatives and govern the nation. The key to all the political

policy of the Slave Power through these last forty years is this

endeavor to capture the Senate of the United States, and hold it, by

bringing in a superior _number_ of Slave States. So well did it play

this card that, till 1850, it maintained an equality of senatorial

representation, and, by the help of Northern allies and the superior

political dexterity of the aristocracy, controlled our foreign policy;

kept its own representatives in all the great courts of Europe; made

peace or war at will; managed the Executive through a veto on his

appointments; and endeavored to fill the Supreme Court with men in favor

of its policy, while the House of Representatives never was able to pass

a measure without its consent. Under the past forty years' reign of the

Slave Power, the Senate of the United States has been a greater farce in

the republic than the crown and House of Lords in the British empire.

Indeed, so well did this aristocracy play its part, _that it was

supposed by the whole world to be the American Government_; and the news

that the people of the United States had refused, in 1860, to register

its behests, was received abroad with the same astonishment and

indignation as if there had been a revolt of the subjects of any

European nation against their anointed rulers.

But spite of these great advantages at the outset--spite of its

incredible political activity and admirable concentration, the slave

aristocracy was finally defeated by the people. How this was done is the

most interesting narrative in modern history. Never has the intrinsic

superiority of a democratic over an aristocratic order of society been

so magnificently vindicated as during the last forty years of our

national career. During that period the free portion of this Union has

grown to an overwhelming superiority over the slave portion, and

compelled the slaveholders to draw the sword to save themselves from

material and providential destruction.

This period of forty years may be regarded as that of the _consolidation

of the people_. The first thirty years of it was the era of their

_industrial and social consolidation_; the last ten years has been the

period of their _political union against the Slave Power_.

An aristocracy always exhibits the uttermost pitch of human policy in

its career, and amazes and outwits society by its marvellous display of

executive ability. But the people are always moved by great supernatural

forces that are beyond their comprehension, often disowned or scorned by

them, but which mould their destiny and lead them to a victory spite of

themselves. The people always grow without conscious plan or method, and

rarely know their own strength. But there are always a few great men who

represent their destiny, and, often against their will, direct them in

the path to liberty. History will record the names of three great men

who, during the last forty years, have been the most notable figures in

this consolidation of the people in this republic; three men that the

implacable hatred of the Slave Power has singled out from all other

Northern men as special objects of infamy; men who represent the

industrial, moral, and political phases of the people's growth to

supremacy. Each came when he was wanted, and faithfully did his work;

and their history is the chronicle of this advance of liberty in the

republic.

The first of these men was De Witt Clinton, of New York. No Northern man

so early discovered the deep game of the Slave Power as he. He was the

ablest statesman of the North in the days when the aristocracy of the

South was just effecting its consolidation. He was a prominent candidate

for the Presidency, and was scornfully put down by the power that ruled

at Richmond. The slaveholders knew him for their clear-headed enemy, and

drove him out of the arena of national politics. Never was political

defeat so auspicious. Cured of the political ambition of his youth, Mr.

Clinton turned the energies of his massive genius to the _industrial

consolidation of the North_. He saw that all future political triumph of

liberty must rest on the triumph of free labor. He anticipated the

coming greatness of the Northwest, and boldly devoted his life to the

inauguration of that system of internal improvements which has made the

Northern States the mighty, free industrial empire it now is. Within the

period of ten years lying nearest 1820, the people, under the lead of

Clinton and his associates, had brought into active operation the three

great agencies of free labor--the steamer, the canal, the railroad;

while our manufacturing industry dates from the same period.

This was the providential movement of a great people, organizing a

method of labor which should overthrow the American aristocracy. Of

course the people did not know what all this meant; thousands of the men

who were foremost in organizing Northern industry did not suspect the

end; but De Witt Clinton knew. The wiseacres of the city of New York

nicknamed his canal 'Clinton's Ditch.' It was the first ditch in that

series of continental 'parallels' by which the people of the North have

approached the citadel of the Slave Power. They have dug in those vast

intrenchments for forty years, to such purpose that in 1860 the great

guns of free labor commanded every plantation in the Union. Pardon them,

then, O lieutenant-generals of the slavery forces, if they still think

well of the spade that has dug their highway to power. The Northern

spade is a slow machine--but it will yet shovel the slave aristocracy

into the Gulf of Mexico as sure as God lives!

Glance over this field of industrial and material growth in the free

portion of the Union, as it appeared in 1860.

At that time the Free States had increased to nineteen, while the Slave

States were fifteen, containing eight hundred and seventy-five thousand

square miles. The people had nine hundred and fifty thousand square

miles organized into free-labor States, with eight vast Territories,

containing one million square miles, an area equal to twenty-four States

as large as New York. In this vast extent of States and Territories,

including two thirds the land of the Union, there were not a hundred

slaves. _The Government holds all those States and Territories to-day._

Look at the position and value of these possessions of freedom. In 1850

liberty secured the great State of California, and in 1860 the State of

Kansas. These States insure the possession of the whole Pacific coast,

the entire mineral wealth of the mountains, the Indian Territory, and

the vast spaces of Northwestern Texas to freedom, and open Mexico to

Northern occupation. In the East, freedom had already secured the best

harbors for commerce; in the Northwest, the granary of the world; the

inexhaustible mineral wealth of Lake Superior, and the navigation of

thousands of miles upon the great inland seas that separate the republic

from the Canadas. From the Northern Atlantic and the Pacific it

commanded the trade of Europe and Asia. This region embraces the best

climates of the continent for the habitation of a vigorous race of men,

and contains all the elements of imperial power.

Freedom had secured, in 1860, a population of twenty millions, while the

Slave Power had reached but twelve millions, one third of whom were

slaves. From 1850 to 1860 the Union _gained_ almost as much in

population as the entire census of 1820; and of that gain the North

secured forty-one and the South but twenty-seven per cent. The slave

population increased but twenty-three per cent. At this rate of increase

the year 1900 will see a population of one hundred millions in the

Union, of whom nine millions will be negroes, and a vast majority of the

white population located in territory now free. Between 1820 and 1860

five million emigrants reenforced the Union, of which the North received

the greater portion. Between the war of 1814 and 1860, Great Britain and

Ireland sent to us more people than inhabited the thirteen States that

formed the Union, and of this immigrant population there was an excess

of nine hundred and fifty thousand _men_--a nation poured in upon the

great, free North, to reenforce the people.

Already was this increase of free population telling upon slave labor in

Slave States. Even in the Gulf cities Sambo was fast receding before the

brawny arms of Hans and Patrick. Northwestern Texan was becoming a new

Germany. Western Virginia, Maryland, Missouri, and Delaware were rapidly

losing in slave labor; while along the border had grown up a line of ten

cities in Slave States, containing six hundred thousand people, of whom

less than ten thousand were slaves. This line of cities, from Wilmington

Delaware, to St. Louis, Missouri, was becoming a great cordon of

free-labor citadels; supported in the rear by another line of Free

Border-State cities, stretching from Philadelphia to Leavenworth,

containing nine hundred thousand; thus _massing a free population of one

million five hundred thousand in border cities that overlooked the land

of despotism_.

Then consider the growth of free agriculture. In 1860 the South had a

cotton and rice crop as her exclusive possession. Already the Northwest

was encroaching upon her sugar cultivation. Against her agriculture,

mainly supported by one great staple, which can also be cultivated all

round the globe, the free North could oppose every variety of crop;

several of greater value than the boasted cotton. In all the grains, in

cattle and the products of the dairy, in hay, in fruits; in the superior

cultivation of land; in the vastly superior value of land; in

agricultural machinery, probably representing a labor force equal to all

the slaves--the superiority of freedom was too evident for discussion.

_The value of agricultural machinery in the Free States had trebled

between 1850 and 1860_. The Homestead Law was the fit result of this

vast advance of free labor, and has sealed the destiny of every present

and future Territory of the Union.

Then contemplate the vast expansion of manufacturing industry, of which

nine tenths belong to the Free States. _In ten years from 1850 to 1860,

this branch of labor had increased eighty-six per cent._, reaching the

enormous sum of $2,000,000,000; $60 for every inhabitant of the Union. A

million and a half of people were engaged as operatives therein,

supporting nearly five millions--one sixth the whole population of the

Union; while fully one third our population may be said to directly and

indirectly live by manufactures.

The increase of iron manufactures in ten years was forty-four per cent.;

the coal mines reached a treble yield in ten years; $10,000,000, of

clothing were produced in 1860. The lumber trade had increased

sixty-four percent, in ten years, reaching $100,000,000. Flouring mills

showed sixty-five per cent, increase, reaching $225,000,000; spirits,

$24,000,000; cotton manufactures had increased seventy-six per cent, in

ten years, reaching $115,000,000; woollens had increased sixty-seven per

cent.; boots and shoes walked up to $76,000,000, and leather to

$63,000,000. The fishermen of New England increased mightily. The gold

of California, copper of the Northwest, the salt of New York and

Michigan had reached colossal proportions. Whoever studies the

manufacturing statistics of the North for the past ten years will be at

no loss to know why the manufacturers of Great Britain are willing to

sever the Slave States from the Union, to gain a customer it was thus

supplying in 1860.

Now add to this array of agriculture, manufactures, extent of territory,

and excess of population, the superiority of the Free States in

commerce. The tonnage of the Union was twenty-six millions in 1860, the

fourth of which was the growth of the ten years previous. Out of the one

thousand and seventy-one ships built in 1860, the 'nation' of South

Carolina produced one steamer and one schooner! Contemplate the money

power of the city of New York, the vast capital invested in trade, in

banks, insurance, and the like, in the North. The slave aristocracy was

becoming imprisoned in a vast web of financial dependence--a web that

war and wholesale repudiation of debts alone could break through.

In 1860 there were in the Union 30,- 600 miles of railroad, costing

$1,134,- 452,909, four times the extent of 1850. In 1850 only one line

of railroad connected the Atlantic with the Mississippi. Now, of the

eight great railroad and canal routes connecting the sea coast with this

valley, six run through the Free States; transportation on these avenues

costs but one tenth the old methods. Governor Letcher declares the

Baltimore and Ohio Railroad has 'abolitionized' Northern and Western

Virginia, and the Southern rebellion has been especially savage on

railroads. Whoever would understand one secret of the consolidation of

the people should study the railroad map of the Northern States, and

contrast it with the South. It was a fine tribute to the value of the

railroad that the first use the people made of their new political

supremacy in 1860 was to pass the bill for connecting the Atlantic and

Pacific by the iron rail and the telegraphic wire.

This vast advancement in free labor, from 1820 to 1850, was fitly closed

in 1850 by the annexation of California to the roll of the Free States,

securing to liberty the gold mines and the Pacific coast. It is

impossible to comprehend all the consequences of this step. It was the

decisive industrial triumph of the people over the slave aristocracy.

The Slave Power went mad over the defeat, _and for the last ten years

has virtually abandoned the rivalry of industries, and turned to

violence_, breaking of compromises, forcible seizure of the ballot box,

repudiation of debts, stealing of arms, and finally cruel war, as if

lying and robbing, in the long run, could upset free and honest

industry. After the loss of California and the Pacific coast, the

struggle for the Territories was but a, preliminary skirmish of the war

for the conquest and desolation of the Union. The people had _waged the

battle of liberty with the gigantic agencies of material prosperity for

forty years, and the aristocracy was completely in their power_.

For this material superiority of the free-labor States inevitably inured

to the advantage of liberty. In vain did every new Free State, year

after year, vote with the Slave Power; in vain did every great railroad

and manufacturing corporation of the North obey the political behests of

the lords of the plantations; in vain was the mercantile aristocracy of

all the great cities the fast friend of the slave aristocracy; and

vainly did almost the entire immigrant population fall politically into

its control. All this was as nothing _against the irresistible natural

tendency of free labor_. The Irishman who voted against the negro was

breaking his chain with every blow of his pick. The Wall-street banker,

the great railroad king, the cotton manufacturer, who railed against

abolitionism like mad, were condemning the slave aristocracy every day

they lived. There is a divine law by which the work of freemen shall

root out the work of slaves; and no law enacted by the will of Northern

doughfaces could repeal this statute of nature. These Northern friends

of the aristocracy supposed themselves to be helping their ambitious

allies by their political support. But the slaveholders knew how

fallacious was this aid. They saw that the North was gaining a huge

superiority to the South; that the people were slowly consolidating;

that when the free-labour interest did finally concentrate, it would

carry every Northern interest with it, and, when the pinch came, no

Northern party or statesman could or would help them do their will. They

carefully sifted all offers of aid from such quarters, and having used

every Northern interest and institution and party till it was squeezed

dry of all its black blood, they turned their backs haughtily on the

white sections of the Union, plundered friend and foe alike, and flew

into civil war, out of spite and rage at the census of 1860; in other

words, _declared war against the providence of God as manifested in the

progress of free society_. They have fought well; at first, perhaps,

better than we; but when General Lee 'flanks' the industrial decrees of

the Almighty, and Stuart 'cuts the communications' between free labor

and imperial power, they will destroy this republic--and not till then.

But was this great material gain of the people to be accompanied by a

corresponding spiritual advancement? _Was man to become the chief object

of reverence in this wonderfully expanding industrial empire?_ If not,

all this progress was deceptive, and nobody could predict how soon our

very superiority should be turned to the advantage of that aristocracy

which had perverted so many things in the republic.

It could not be denied that the Free States were making wonderful

strides, during these forty years, in mental cultivation and power. The

free industry of the North was an education to the people, and nowhere

has so much popular intelligence been carried into the business of life

as here. This period also witnessed the organization of the free school

everywhere outside of New England, its home; the daily press, the public

lecture, the creation of an American literature, all Northern; the

growth of all institutions of learning and means of intellectual and

artistic cultivation unparalleled in any other age or land. No

well-informed person could also deny the astonishing progress in

furnishing the means of religious instruction, the multiplication of

churches, great ecclesiastical organizations, and philanthropic leagues.

Notwithstanding the apparent absorption of the North in its material

prosperity, no people ever was so busy in furnishing itself with the

means of spiritual improvement; and though a population of several

millions of ignorant and superstitious foreigners was thrown in upon it

during these eventful years, it came out at the end the most intelligent

people, the best provided with the apparatus of religion, that was ever

known.

But there was one element yet wanting to assure the right usage of all

this wealth of material, intellectual, and ecclesiastical power. This

was what the slaveholding aristocracy saw at once to be the fatal omen

for their cause, and nicknamed 'Abolitionism.' _Abolitionism, as

recognized by the Slave Power, is nothing more nor less than the

religious reverence for man and his natural rights._ This moral respect

for the nature and rights of all men has always encountered the peculiar

scorn of aristocracies, and no men have been so bitterly persecuted in

history as those who represented the religious opposition to despotism.

The Hebrew aristocracy in old Palestine called this sentiment 'atheism'

in Jesus Christ, and crucified Him. The pagan aristocracy called it a

'devilish superstition' in the early Christians, and slaughtered them

like cattle. The priestly and civil absolutism of the sixteenth century

called it 'fanaticism' in the Dutch and German reformers, and fought it

eighty years with fire and rack and sword. The church and crown

nicknamed it 'Puritanism,' and persecuted it till it turned and cut off

the head of Charles the First, and secured religious liberty. The slave

aristocracy stigmatized it 'Abolitionism,' and let loose upon it every

infernal agency in its power.

One great man, yet alive, but not yet recognized as he will be, was the

representative of this religious reverence for the rights of man. Lloyd

Garrison has been, for the last twenty-five years, the best-hated man in

these Northern States, not because he failed to see just how a Union of

Free and Slave States could endure; not because of any visionary theory

of political action or the structure of society he cherished; but,

strangely enough, because _he stood-up for man and his divine right to

freedom_. This was what the aristocracy hated in him, and this is what,

with inexpressible rage, it saw gaining in the North. It truly said that

our education, our arts, our literature, our press, our churches, our

benevolent organizations, our families, all that was best in Northern

society, even our politics, were being consolidated by this

'fanaticism,' Puritanism,' 'Abolitionism'--otherwise, by _reverence for

man and his right to freedom_.

It grew, however, almost as fast as the material power of the

North--this moral conviction of the divine right of man to liberty; grew

so fast, that in 1860, South Carolina glanced over the November election

returns, saw the name of Abraham Lincoln at the head, shrieked, '_The

North is abolitionized!_' and rushed out of the Union, with ten other

Slave States at her heels, while four more were held back by the strong

arm of the national power. The North is not yet 'abolitionized,' but

every volley fired at liberty by the Slave Power these last three years,

has killed a lover of slavery, and made an Abolitionist; as the juggler

fires his pistol at your old black hat, and, when the smoke clears up, a

white dove flutters in its place. If the Slave Power shoots at us long

enough, we shall all become Abolitionists, and all learn to love our

fellow man and protect him in the enjoyment of every right given him by

God!

Thus had the Free States, the people's part of the Union, gone up

steadily to overshadowing material, intellectual, moral power. But up to

1850 this mighty growth had got no fit expression in State or national

politics. All the great parties had mildly tried to remonstrate with the

slave aristocracy, but quickly recoiled as from the mouth of a furnace.

A few attempts had been made to organize a party for freedom, but

nothing could gain foothold at Washington. A few noble men had lifted

their voices against the rampant tyranny of the slaveholders: chief

among these was John Quincy Adams, the John the Baptist crying in the

desert of American partisan politics the coming of the kingdom of

Heaven! But when the people had come up to a consciousness of their

consolidated power, and the reverence for human right was changing and

polarizing every Northern institution--in the fierce struggle that

ushered in and succeeded the admission of California, between 1848 and

1856--this Northern superiority culminated in a great political movement

against slavery. _This movement assumed a double form-positive, in the

assertion that the Slave Power should be arrested; negative, in the

assertion that the people should have their own way with it._ The

Republican party said: _The slave aristocracy shall go no farther._ The

'Popular Sovereignty' party, or Douglas Democracy, said: _The people

shall do what they choose about this matter._ Now the people were

already the superior power in the republic, and were rapidly growing to

hate the Slave Power; so the slaveholders, saw that the Northern

Democracy, with their war cry of _popular sovereignty_, might in time be

just as dangerous to them as their more open enemies. They repudiated

both forms of Northern politics, and tied the executive, under James

Buchanan, and the Supreme Court, under Judge Taney, to their dogma: _The

right of the aristocracy is supreme. Slavery, not liberty, is the law of

the republic._

The great leaders of these Northern parties were Stephen H. Douglas and

William H. Seward. Mr. Douglas was the best practical politician,

popular debater, and magnetizer of the masses, the North has yet

produced. _He was the representative of the blind power of the North_,

and stood up all his life, in his better hours, for the right of the

people to make the republic what they would. But the representative

statesman of the era is the Secretary of State. The whole career of Mr.

Seward is so interwoven with the history of the political consolidation

of the people against the Slave Power, that the two must be studied

together to be understood. Nowhere so clearly and eloquently as in the

pages of this great philosophical statesman can be read the rapid growth

of that political movement that in twelve years captured every Free

State, placed a President in the chair, and then, with a splendid

generosity, invited the whole loyal people to unite in a party of the

Union, _knowing that henceforth the Union meant the people and liberty

against the aristocracy and slavery_. And only in the light of this view

can the course of this man and his great seeming opponent, but real

associate, be fitly displayed. _Douglas had taught the people of the

North that their will should be the law of the republic. Seward had told

them that will should be in accordance with the 'higher law' of justice

and freedom._ Like men fighting in the dark, they supposed themselves

each other's enemies, while they were only commanders of the front and

rear of the army of the people. Both appeared on the national arena in

the struggle of 1850, and soon strode to the first place. The Slave

Power repudiated Seward and his 'higher law' of justice and liberty at

once. They tolerated Douglas and his 'popular sovereignty ' ten years

longer, when they found it even a more dangerous heresy, and threw him

overboard.

In the election of 1860 there were but two parties--the two wings of the

people's army, under the patriots Lincoln and Douglas; the two wings of

the slave host, under the traitors Breckinridge and Bell. Of course the

people triumphed. Had Douglas been elected instead of Lincoln, the Slave

Power would not have stayed in the Union one hour longer. _It was not

Lincoln, but the political supremacy of the people they resisted._ The

Free States had at last consolidated, never to recede, and that was

enough. Henceforth no party could live in the North that espoused the

cause of this rebel aristocracy. Whoever was Governor or President,

Democrat, Republican, Union, what not, the people's party was henceforth

supreme, and the aristocracy, with all its works of darkness, was second

best.

The political victory of 1860 was virtually complete. For the first time

in eighty years had the people concentrated against the Slave Power. The

executive was gained, placing the army, navy, appointments, and

patronage in the hands of the President, the people's representative by

birth and choice. The North had a majority of eight in the Senate and

sixty-five in the House of Representatives, insuring a control of the

foreign policy and the financial affairs of the republic; while the

Supreme Court, the last bulwark of despotism, could be reconstructed in

the interest of the Constitution. It is true the people did not

appreciate the magnitude of the victory, or realize what it implied.

They would probably have made no special use of it at once, and the

aristocracy might have outwitted them again, as they had for three

quarters of a century past. But the slaveholders knew that now was just

the time to strike. If they waited till the people understood themselves

better, and learned how to administer the Government for liberty, it

would be too late. They still had possession of the executive, with all

the departments, the Supreme Court, army, and navy, for four precious

months. This was improved in inflicting as much damage on the Government

as possible, and organizing a confederacy of revolted States. The people

did not believe they would fight, and offered them various compromises,

_everything except the thing they desired--unlimited power to control

the republic_. The aristocracy knew that no compromises would do them

good which proposed anything less than a reconstruction of the Union

which would insure their perpetual supremacy. They even doubted if this

could be effectually accomplished in a peaceful way. The people must

first be subdued by arms, their Union destroyed, and brought to the

verge of anarchy by this mighty power, backed by the whole despotism of

Europe; then might they be compelled to accept such terms as it chose to

dictate. It waited no longer than was necessary to complete its

preparations, and opened ed its guns in Charleston harbor. When the

smoke of that cannonade drifted away, the people beheld with

consternation the Slave Powers arrayed in arms, from Baltimore and St.

Louis to New Orleans and the Rio Grande, advancing to seize their

capital and overthrow the republic.

Having conquered the aristocracy by its industry, education, religion,

and politics--driven it from every position on the great field of

American society in an era of peace--the people slowly awoke to the

conviction that they must now conquer it on the field of arms. They were

slow to come to that conviction. Their ablest leaders were not

war-statesmen, and did not comprehend at once the full meaning of the

war. They called it a 'conspiracy,' a 'rebellion,' an 'insurrection,' a

'summer madness,' anything but what it was--_the American stave

aristocracy in arms to subdue the people of the United States with every

other aristocracy on earth wishing it success_. But the people did not

refuse the challenge. In April, 1861, they rushed to the capital, saved

their Government from immediate capture or dispersion, and then began to

prepare, after their way, for--they hardly knew what--to suppress a riot

or wage a civil war.

In every such conflict as this the aristocracy has a great advantage,

especially if it can choose its own time to begin the war. Never was an

oligarchy more favored in its preparations than ours. Since 1820 it had

contemplated and prepared for this very hour. It had almost unlimited

control over fifteen States of the Union. Society was constructed in all

these States on a military basis, the laboring class being held in place

by the power of the sword. An aristocracy is always preceded by military

ambition; for all subordinate orders of its people have acquired the

habit of respect for rank and implicit obedience to superiors, so

essential to success in war. When the war broke out, the Slave Power was

ready. Its arms and ammunition and forts were stolen; its military

organizations had been perfected in secret societies; its generals were

selected--its president perhaps the best general of all; its military

surveys were made, every Southern State mapped, and every strategical

point marked; its subordinate officers, in which the real efficiency of

an army consists, had been educated in military schools kept by such

teachers as Hill and Stonewall Jackson. It had a full crop of cotton as

a basis for finance. Its government was practically such a despotism as

does not exist in the world. At the sound of the first gun in

Charleston, the aristocracy sprang to arms; in a fortnight every

strategical point in fifteen States was practically in its possession,

and Washington tottered to its fall.

The people, as the people always are, were unprepared for war. Their

entire energies had been concentrated for forty years in organizing the

gigantic victory of peace which they had just achieved. When they woke

up to the idea that there was yet another battle to be fought before the

aristocracy would subside, they _began to learn the art of war_. And

never did the people begin a great war so unprepared. The people of

Europe have always had military traditions and cultivation to fall back

upon in their civil wars. The North had no military traditions later

than the Revolution, for no war since that day had really called forth

their hearty efforts. Three generations of peace had destroyed even

respect for war as an employment fit for civilized men. There were not

ten thousand trained soldiers in all the nineteen States in April, 1861.

There were not good arms to furnish fifty thousand troops in the

possession of the National or loyal State Governments. Most of the

ablest military men of the North had left the army, and were engaged in

peaceful occupations. Halleck was in the law; McClellan, Burnside,

Banks, on the railroad; Mitchel and Sigel teaching schoolboys; Hooker,

Kearny, McCall, Dix, retired gentlemen; Fremont digging gold; Rosecrans

manufacturing oil, and Grant in a tanyard; and so on to the end of the

chapter; while Scott, the patriot hero, who was but once defeated in

fifty years' service, was passing over into the helplessness of old age.

Of course such a people did not realize the value of military education,

and fell into the natural delusion that a multitude of men carrying guns

and wearing blue coats is an army; and any 'smart man' can make a

colonel in three months. There was not even a corporal in the Cabinet,

and Mr, Lincoln's military exploits were confined to one campaign, in

the war of 1812, and one challenge to fight a duel. There were not ten

Northern men in Congress who could take a company into action. In short,

we had the art of war to learn; even did not know it was necessary to

learn to fight as to do anything else; especially to fight against an

aristocracy that had been studying war for forty years.

For more than three years have the people of the United States waged

this gigantic war thus precipitated upon them by their aristocracy to

arrest the irresistible growth of modern society in the republic. Every

year has been a period of great success, though our peaceful population,

unacquainted with war, and often ignorant of the vast issues of this

conflict, have often inclined to despondency. Of course the aristocracy

fought best, at first, as every aristocracy in the world has done. With

half our number of better disciplined troops, better commanded and

man[oe]uvred, and the great advantage of interior lines, supported by

railroad communications, and possessing in Virginia, perhaps, the most

defensible region in the Union, they held our Army of the Potomac at bay

for two years; have thrice overrun Maryland and the Pennsylvania border,

and yet hold their fortified capital; while every step of our victorious

progress in the Southwest has been bitterly contested. Yet this war of

martial forces has been strangely like the long, varied war of material,

moral, and political forces of which it is the logical sequel.

The Union navy won the earliest laurels in the war. The navy has been

the right arm of the people in all ages. The Athenian navy repelled the

invasion of Greece by the Persian empire. Antony, Pompey, Caesar, the

people's leaders in Rome, built up their youthful power upon the sea.

The Dutch and English navies saved religious and civil liberty in the

sixteenth century; and all the constitutional Governments that now exist

in Europe came out of the hold of a British man-of-war. The United

States, in 1812, extemporized a navy that gained us the freedom of the

seas. And now the navy has led the way in the war for the freedom of the

continent. The aristocracy felt, intuitively, the danger of this arm of

defence, and discouraged, scattered, and almost annihilated our naval

power before they entered upon the war. When we learn that our active

navy, in April, 1861, consisted of one frigate, too large to sail over

the bar of Charleston harbor, and one two-gun supply ship; and that in

the three successive years it has shot up into a force of five hundred

vessels; that our new ironclads and guns have revolutionized the art of

naval warfare; that we have established the most effective blockade ever

known along two thousand miles of dangerous coast; have captured Port

Royal and New Orleans, aided in the opening of the Mississippi and all

its dependencies which we now patrol, penetrated to the cotton fields of

Alabama, occupied the inland waters of North Carolina and Virginia,

seized every important rebel port and navy yard save four, and destroyed

every war ship of the enemy that has ventured in range of our cannon, we

are pronouncing a eulogy of which any people may be proud. One year more

will swell this maritime power to a force amply sufficient to protect

the coast of the whole republic from all assault of traitors at home or

their friends abroad.

But the army of the Union has not been content to remain permanently

behind the navy. Even in the first year of the conflict, when it was

only a crowd of seventy-five thousand undisciplined militia, contending

against a solid body of well-disciplined and commanded forces, it

wrested two States from the foe, and baffled his intentions for the

capture of all our great border cities. But since the opening of the

campaign of 1802, the real beginning of war by the North, we have

conquered from the aristocracy and now hold fast in Slave States an

area of two hundred thousand square miles, inhabited by four millions of

people--a district larger than France. Three years ago, every Slave

State was virtually in the grasp of the rebels, and the Union was really

put upon the defensive to protect freedom in the Free States and the

national capital. Now, by a masterly series of campaigns in the West and

Southwest, ranging from the Alleghanies to the Gulf, in which we have

never lost a decisive battle, we have saved all the Territories of the

United States, cut the 'Confederacy' in two equal parts, holding the

western division at our mercy, opened the Mississippi and all its

tributaries, and crowded the rebellion into the five States nearest the

Atlantic coast. In the east we have fought a score of battles with the

most formidable army ever marshalled on this continent, composed of the

flower of the rebel soldiery led by their best generalship, and, spite

of frequent repulses, have forced it from the Potomac and below the

Rappahannock to the James, away from the smell of salt water, holding

firmly every seaport from Washington to Wilmington, North Carolina, and

a belt of land and water commanding the approach to the interior of

every Atlantic State. The military force of the rebellion is rapidly

being crowded into one army, not exceeding two hundred and fifty

thousand men, against which the mighty power of the Union can be

marshalled in overwhelming array. I know well enough that the decisive

moment will really come when we confront that desperate and veteran

host, on which the fate of aristocratic government upon this continent

depends. But we shall then have a great army of veterans, marshalled

under commanders fit to lead them in the name of liberty and the people.

It is not strange it has taken us three years to find who can fight

among us. The Germans fought fifty years against religious despotism

before they found Gustavus Adolphus to lead them to victory. The English

fought ten years before Cromwell took command of his Ironsides. The

French blundered ten years before the 'little corporal' led the army of

the republic over the Alps to dethrone half the monarchs of Europe. The

people had but one great general in the Revolutionary War. Until 1860

the aristocracy had furnished the only great American commander. But

great generals have now appeared among the people; and if we fight

stoutly and treat men fairly, our commander will appear when his army of

veterans is ready.

The aristocracy at first moved armies faster than the people, for the

same reason that the Tartars, the Cossacks, the Arabs, the Indians, and

all semi-barbarians move more rapidly in war than a civilized people. A

semi-barbarous oligarchy fights because it loves war; a civilized people

fights to _establish civilization and peace_. The Southern army carries

little along, lives on the food and wears the dress of the semi-savage,

and overruns vast spaces, leaving a smoking desolation and a ruined

society. The Northern army moves slowly, because it carries American

civilization in its knapsack and baggage wagons, organizes republican

society as it goes, and prepares to hold for liberty all it has gained.

The people's army has paved the way for liberty and a democratic order

of society over two hundred thousand square miles, among four millions

of people, in three years. New Orleans, Nashville, Memphis, Beaufort,

Alexandria, every slave city in our possession, is being made over into

a free city.

The army goes slow because it is only the people's pioneer to level the

mountains and fill up the valleys, and construct the highway of liberty

from the Potomac to the Rio Grande. The Secretary of State has well

said: '_The war means the dissolution of slave society._' It was entered

into with the distinct understanding that it was the last expedient to

save the negro oligarchy from ruin, and every day it goes on its

thundering course it more emphatically pronounces its doom. The war for

the Union is the people's final contest for liberty, a contest in which

they will be victorious, as in the strife of industry, morals, and

politics. The people, like John Brown's soul, are 'marching on' to

dissolve the slave oligarchy and establish democracy. The people now

possess three fourths the territory, population, and wealth of the

republic. There are yet some six million black and white people in the

South to rescue from their masters, who now use them against us. They

are being prepared for Union with us by this war. The poor white man

will be made better, more intelligent, more ambitious even, by service

in the rebel army, and on the return of peace will become the small

farmer of a free soil. The black men will be raised, in due time made

freemen, and start as a free peasantry on a new career. A hundred

thousand slaveholders, with their families, not more than one million of

people in all, will hate the Union permanently. They will be defeated,

we hope and believe, and disorganized as a social and political power,

and the people rule in every State they have cursed by their ambition

for the last fifty years.

We do not prophesy just when or how the people will triumph. The

victory, we believe, will come; but whether all at once, or through

temporary revulsions of purpose and alternate truce and war, whether

finished by arms or yet cast again into the arena of polities, whether

by occupying all this three millions of square miles of territory or

gaining on despotism year by year, nobody knows. The Slave Power has not

yet played its trump card. It has a hundred devilish resources yet to

foil us. It may yet try to use the negroes it still holds against us by

emancipation. It may yet drag us into a war with Europe, and Saratoga

and Lake Erie and Plattsburg, and Long Island and Trenton and Bunker

Hill, and Detroit and New Orleans may yet be fought over again. But we

have seen how, for the last forty years, the people of the United States

have strode on toward supremacy, led by a Power they did not always

recognize, and sometimes scorned, but led to victory spite of

themselves.

There has indeed been a Divine Intelligence guiding the destiny of our

republic by the 'higher law' of the progress of free society toward a

Christian democracy. We do not think the Peace Party will be able to

abolish that 'higher law,' as certain of our politicians expect. We

believe God Almighty is shaping a free and exalted civilized nation out

of this republic, by a law of progress which we did not make and cannot

repeal. We may postpone that nation by our folly and sins, but it must

be made. Through labor and education, and religion and arts, and

politics and war, 'it marches' on to supremacy--_the people's nation_.

And when it is established it will be the controlling nation of this

continent, one of the firmest powers on the earth, the terror of every

aristocracy, and the joy and hope of every people on the round globe.

THE UNDIVINE COMEDY-A POLISH DRAMA.

Dedicated to Mary

PART III.

'Il fut administe, parceque le niais demandait un pretre, puis

pende a la satisfaction generale,' etc, etc.--_Rapport du citoyen

Gaillot, commissaire de la sixieme chambre, an III., 5 prairial._

'The sacraments were administered to him, because the fool demanded

a priest; he was hung to the general satisfaction.'--_Report of

citizen Gaillot, commissary of the sixth session, 3d year, 5th

prairial._

A song! a new song!

Who will begin it? Who will end it?

Give me the Past, clad in steel, barbed with iron, floating in knightly

plumes! With magic power I would invoke before you gothic towers and

castellated turrets, bristling barbacans and mighty arches, baronial

halls and clustered shafts; I would throw around you the giant shadows

of vaulted domes and of revered cathedrals: but it may not be; all that

is with the Past: the Past is never to return!

* * * * *

Speak, whosoever thou mayst be, and tell me in what thou believest! It

is easier to lose thy life than to invent a faith; to awaken any belief

in it!

Shame upon you all, great and small, for all things pursue their own

course in defiance of your schemes! You may be mean and wretched,

without hearts and without brains, yet the world hastens to its allotted

destiny; it hurries you on whether you will or no, throws you in the

dust, tosses you into wild confusion, or whirls you in resistless

circles, which cease not until they grow into dances of Death! But the

world rolls on--on; clouds and storms arise and vanish; then it grows

slippery--new couples join the dance of Death--they totter--fall--lost

in an abyss of blood--for it is slippery-blood-human blood is gushing

everywhere, as if the path to peace led through a charnel house!

* * * * *

Behold the crowds of people thronging the gates of the cities, the

hills, the valleys, and resting beneath the shadows of the trees! Tents

are spread about, long boards are placed on the trunks of fallen trees

or on pikes and sticks to serve as tables; they are covered with meat

and drink, the full cups pass from hand to hand, and, as they touch the

eager mouth, threats, oaths, and curses press forth from the hot lips.

Faster and faster fly the cups from hand to hand, beaded, bubbling,

glittering, always filling, striking, tinkling, ringing, as they circle

among the millions: Hurrah! hurrah! Long live the cup of drunkenness and

joy!

* * * * *

How fiercely they are agitated; how impatiently they wait! They murmur,

they break into riotous noise!

Poor wretches! scarcely covered with their miserable rags, the seal of

weary labors deeply stamped upon their sunburnt faces set with uncombed,

bristling hair, the sweat starting from their rugged brows, their strong

and horny hands armed with scythes, axes, hammers, hatchets, spades!

Look at that broad youth with the pickaxe; at the slight one with the

sword. Here is one who holds aloft a glittering pike; another who

brandishes a massive club with his brawny arm! There under the willows a

boy crams cherries into his mouth with the one hand, and with the other

punches the tree with a long, sharp awl. Women are also there, wives,

mothers, daughters, poor and hungry as the men, Not a single trace of

womanly beauty, of healthful freshness upon them; their hair is

disordered and sprinkled with the dust of the highways, their tawny

bodies scarcely covered with unsightly rags, their gloomy eyes seem

fading into their sockets, only half open as if gluing together in very

weariness: but they will soon be quickened, for the full cup flies from

lip to lip, they quaff long draughts: Hurrah! hurrah! Long live the cup

of drunkenness and joy!

* * * * *

Hark! a noise and rustling among the masses! Is it joy, or is it grief?

Who can read the meaning of a thing so monstrously multiform!

A man arrives, mounts a table, harangues and sways the multitude. His

voice drags and grates upon the ear, but hacks itself into sharp, strong

words, clearly heard and easily understood; his gestures are slow and

light, accompanying his words as music, song. His brow is high and

strong, his head is entirely bald; thought has uprooted its last hair.

His skin is dull and tawny, the blood never tinges its dingy pallor, no

emotion ever paints its secrets there, yellow wrinkles form and cross

between the bones and muscles of his face, and a dark beard, like a

black wreath, encircles it from temple to temple. He fastens a steady

gaze upon his hearers, no doubt or hesitation ever clouds his clear,

cold eye. When he raises his arm and stretches it out toward the people,

they bow before him, as if to receive, prostrate, the blessing of a

_great intellect_, not that of a _great heart_! Down, down with the

great hearts! Away, away with old prejudices! Hurrah! hurrah! for the

words of consolation! Hurrah for the license to murder!

* * * * *

This man is the idol of the people, their passion, the ruler of their

souls, the stimulator of their enthusiasm. He promises them bread and

money, and their cries rise like the rushing of a storm, widening and

deepening in every direction: 'Long live Pancratius! Hurrah! Bread and

money! Bread for us, our wives, our children! Hurrah! hurrah!'

* * * * *

At the feet of the speaker, leaning against the table on which he

stands, rests his friend, companion, and disciple. His eye is dark and

oriental, shadowed by long and gloomy lashes, his arms hang down, his

limbs bend under him, his body is badly formed and distorted, his mouth

is sensual and voluptuous, his expression is sharp and malicious, his

fingers are laden with rings of gold--he joins the tumult, crying with a

rough, hoarse voice: 'Long live Pancratius!' The speaker looks at him

carelessly for a moment, and says: 'Citizen, Baptized, hand me a

handkerchief!'

* * * * *

Meantime the uproar continues; the cries become more and more

tumultuous: 'Bread for us! Bread! bread! Long live Pancratius! Death to

the nobles! to the merchants! to the rich! Bread! bread! Bread and

blood! Hurrah! hurrah!'

* * * * *

A tabernacle. Lamps. An open book lies on a table. Baptized Jews.

THE BAPTIZED. My wretched brethren; my revenge-seeking, beloved

brethren! let us suck nourishment from the pages of the Talmud, as from

the breast of our mother; it is the breast of life from which strength

and honey flow for us, bitterness and poison for our enemies.

CHORUS OF BAPTIZED JEWS. Jehovah is our God, and ours alone; therefore

has He scattered us in every land!

Like the coiled folds of an enormous serpent, He has wreathed us

everywhere round and through the adorers of the cross; our lithe and

subtile rings pass round and through our foolish, proud, unclean

rulers.

Let us thrice spew them forth to destruction! Threefold curses light

upon them!

THE BAPTIZED. Rejoice, my brethren! the Cross of our Great Enemy is

already more than half hewn down; it is rotting to its fall; it is only

standing on a root of blood: if it once plunge into the abyss it will

never rise again. Hitherto the nobles have been its sole defence, but

they are ours! ours!

CHORUS OF BAPTIZED JEWS. Our work, our long, long work of centuries, our

sad, ardent, painful work is almost done!

Death to the nobles--let us thrice spew them forth to destruction!

Threefold curses light upon them!

THE BAPTIZED. The might of Israel shall be built upon a liberty without

law or order, upon a slaughter without end, upon the _pride_ of the

nobility, the _folly_ of the masses. The nobles are almost destroyed; we

must drive the few still left into the abyss of death, and scatter over

their livid corpses the ruins of the shattered cross in which they

trusted!

CHORUS OF BAPTIZED JEWS. The cross is now our holy symbol; the water of

baptism has reunited us with men; the scorning repose upon the love of

the scorned!

The freedom of men is our cry; the welfare of the people our aim; ha!

ha! the eons of Christ trust the sons of Caiaphas!

Centuries ago our fathers tortured our Great Enemy to death; we will

again torture him to death this very day--but He will never rise more

from the grave which we prepare for Him!

THE BAPTIZED. Yet a little space, a little time, a few drops of poison,

and the whole world will be our own, my brethren!

CHORUS OF BAPTIZED JEWS. Jehovah is the God of Israel, and of it alone.

Let us thrice spew forth the nations to destruction! Threefold curses

light upon them!

Knocking is heard at the door.

THE BAPTIZED. Take up your work, brethren! And thou, Holy Book, away

from sight--no unclean look shall soil thy spotless leaves! Who is

there?

Hides the Talmud.

VOICE (_without_). A friend. Open in the name of freedom.

THE BAPTIZED. Quick to your hammers and looms, my brethren!

He opens the door.

Enter Leonard.

LEONARD. Well done, citizens. You watch, I see, and whet your swords for

to-morrow.--(_Approaching one of the men:_) What are you making here in

this corner?

ONE OF THE BAPTIZED. Ropes.

LEONARD. You are right, citizen, for he who falls not by iron must hang!

THE BAPTIZED. Citizen Leonard, is the thing really to come off

to-morrow?

LEONARD. He who thinks, feels, and acts with the most force among us,

has sent me to you to appoint an interview. He will himself answer your

question.

THE BAPTIZED. I go to meet him. Brethren, remain at work. Look well to

them, citizen Yankel.

Exit with Leonard.

CHORUS OF BAPTIZED JEWS. Ye ropes and daggers, ye clubs and bills, the

works of our hands, ye wilt go forth to destroy them!

The people will kill the nobles upon the plains, will hang them in the

forests, and then, having none to defend them, we will kill and hang the

people! The Despised will arise in their anger, will array themselves in

the might of Jehovah: His Word is Redemption and Love for His people

Israel, but scorn and fury for their enemies!

Let us thrice spew them forth to destruction: threefold curses fall upon

them!

* * * * *

A tent. A profusion of flasks, cups, and

flagons. Pancratius alone.

PANCRATIUS. The mob howled in applause but a moment ago, shouted in loud

hurrahs at every word I uttered. But is there a single man among them

all who really understands my ideas, or who comprehends the end and aim

of that path upon which we have entered, or where the reforms will

terminate which have been so loudly inaugurated within the last hour?

'Ah! fervidum imitatorum pecus!'

Enter Leonard and the Baptized Jew.

Do you know Count Henry?

THE BAPTIZED. I know him well by sight, great citizen, but I am not

personally acquainted with him. I remember once when I was approaching

the Lord's Supper, he cried to me, '_Out of the way!_' and looked down

upon me with the arrogant look peculiar to the nobles--for which I vowed

him a rope in my soul.

PANCRATIUS. Prepare to visit him early to-morrow morning, and announce

to him that it is my wish to confer with him alone.

THE BAPTIZED. How many men will you send with me on this embassy? I do

not think it would be safe to undertake it without a guard.

PANCRATIUS. You must go alone, my name will be sufficient guard, and the

gallows on which you hung the baron yesterday, your shield.

THE BAPTIZED. Woe is me!

PANCRATIUS. Tell him I will visit him to-morrow night.

THE BAPTIZED. And if he should put me in chains or order me to be hung?

PANCRATIUS. You would die a martyr for the freedom of the people!

THE BAPTIZED. I will sacrifice all for the freedom of the

people.--(_Aside_.) Woe is me!--(_Aloud._) Good night, citizen.

Exit the Baptized.

LEONARD. Pancratius, why this delay, these half measures, these

contracts, this strange interview? When I swore to honor and obey you,

it was because I believed you to be a hero of extremes, an eagle flying

even in the face of the sun directly to its aim; a brave man ready to

venture all upon the cast of a die.

PANCRATIUS. Silence, child!

LEONARD. Everything is ready; the baptized Jews have forged arms and

woven ropes; the masses clamor for immediate orders. Speak but the word

now, and the electric sparks will fly, the millions flash into forked

lightnings, kindle into flame, and consume our enemies!

PANCRATIUS. You are young, and the blood mounts rapidly into your brain;

but will the hour of combat find you more resolute than myself?

LEONARD. Think well what you are doing. The nobles, weak and exhausted,

have fled for refuge to the famous fortress of the Holy Trinity,[1] and

await our arrival, as men wait the knife of the guillotine.

[Footnote 1: A renowned fort in Polish history. It stood on the old

battlefield between Turkey and Poland, between Europe and Asia.]

Forward, citizen, attack them without delay, and it is over with them

forever!

PANCRATIUS. It can make no difference; they have lost the old energy of

their caste in luxury and idleness. To-morrow or the next day they must

fall, what matter which?

LEONARD. What and whom do you fear, and why do you delay?

PANCRATIUS. I fear nothing. I act but in accordance with my own will.

LEONARD. And am I to trust it blindly?

PANCRATIUS. Yes. Blindly.

LEONARD. You may betray us, citizen!

PANCRATIUS. Betrayal rings forever from your lips like the refrain of an

old song.

But hush! not so loud--if any one should hear us ...

LEONARD. There are no spies here; and what if some one should hear us?

PANCRATIUS. Nothing; only five balls in your heart for having ventured

to raise your voice a tone too high in my presence. (_Approaching close

to him_.) Leonard, trust me, and be tranquil!

LEONARD. I confess I have been too hasty, but I fear no punishment. If

my death could help the cause of the down-trodden masses, I would

cheerfully die.

PANCRATIUS. You are full of life, hope, faith. Happiest of men, I will

not rob you of the bliss of existence.

LEONARD. What do you say, citizen?

PANCRATIUS. Think more; speak less; the time will come when you will

fully understand me!

Have you collected the provisions for the carousal of the millions?

LEONARD. They have all been sent to the arsenal under guard.

PANCRATIUS. Has the contribution from the shoemakers been received?

LEONARD. It has. Every one gave with the greatest eagerness; it amounts

to a hundred thousand.

PANCRATIUS. They must all be invited to a general festival to-morrow.

Have you heard nothing of Count Henry?

LEONARD. I despise the nobles too deeply to credit what I hear of him.

The dying race have no energy left; it is impossible they should dare or

venture aught.

PANCRATIUS. And yet it is true that he is collecting and training his

serfs and peasants, and, confiding in their devotion and attachment to

himself, intends leading them to the relief of the fortress of the Holy

Trinity.

LEONARD. Who can oppose us? _The ideas of our century stand incorporated

in us!_

PANCRATIUS. I am determined to see Count Henry, to gaze into his eyes,

to read the very depths of his brave spirit, to win him over to the

glorious cause of the people.

LEONARD. An aristocrat, body and soul!

PANCRATIUS. True: but also a Poet!

Good night, Leonard, I would be alone.

LEONARD. Have you forgiven me, citizen?

PANCRATIUS. Sleep in peace: if I had not forgiven you, you would ere

this have slept the eternal sleep.

LEONARD. And will nothing take place to-morrow?

PANCRATIUS. Good night, and pleasant dreams!

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!

Jew, I am ready now for the vault of St. Ignatius!

THE BAPTIZED. The day dawns; I can go no farther.

THE MAN. Lead me on until we strike the right path; I will then release

you!

THE BAPTIZED. Why do you drag me on through mist, through thorns and

briers, through ashes and embers, over heaps of ruins? Let me go, I

entreat!

THE MAN. Forward! forward! and descend with me!

The last songs of the people are dying away behind us; a few torches

here and there just glimmer through the gloom!

Ha! under those hoary trees drooping with the night dew, and through

this curdling, whitening vapor, see you not the giant shadow of the dead

Past? Hark! hear you not that wailing chant?

THE BAPTIZED. Everything is shrouded in the thickening mist; at every

step we descend, deeper, deeper!

CHORUS OF WOOD SPIRITS. Let us weep for Christ, the persecuted, martyred

Jesus!

Where is our God; where is His church?

THE MAN. Unsheathe the sword--to arms! to arms!

I will restore Him to you; upon thousands and thousands of crosses will

I crucify His enemies!

CHORUS OF SPIRITS. We kept guard by day and night around the altar and

the holy graves; upon untiring wings we bore the matin chime and vesper

bell to the ear of the believer; our voices floated on the organ's peal!

In the glitter of the stained and rainbow panes, the shadows of the

vaulted domes, the light of the holy chalice, the blessed consecration

of the Body of our Lord--was our whole life centred!

Woe! woe! what will become of us?

THE MAN. It is growing lighter; their dim forms fade and melt into the

red of morn!

THE BAPTIZED. Here lies your way: this is the entrance to the Pass.

THE MAN. Hail! Christ Jesus and my sword! (_He tears off the liberty

cap, throws it upon the ground, and casts pieces of silver upon it.)_

Take together the Thing and the Image for a remembrance!

THE BAPTIZED. You pledge your word to me for the honorable treatment of

him who will visit you at midnight?

THE MAN. An old noble never repeats or breaks a promise!

Hail! Christ Jesus and our swords!

VOICES (_from the depths of the Pass_). Mary and our swords! Long live

our lord, Count Henry!

THE MAN. My faithful followers, to me--to me!

Aid me, Mary, and Christ Jesus!

* * * * *

Night. Trees and shrubbery. Pancratius, Leonard, and attendants.

PANCRATIUS (_to his attendants_). Lie upon this spot with your faces to

the turf, remain perfectly still, kindle no fires, beat no signals, and,

unless you hear the report of firearms, stir not until the dawn of day!

LEONARD. I once more conjure you, citizen!

PANCRATIUS. Lean against this tall pine, Leonard, and pass the night in

reflection.

LEONARD. I pray you, Pancratius, take me with you! Remember, you are

about to intrust yourself alone with an aristocrat, a betrayer, an

oppressor....

PANCRATIUS (_interrupting him, and impatiently gesturing to him to

remain behind_). The old nobles seldom broke a plighted promise!

* * * * *

A vast feudal hall in the castle of Count Henry. Pictures of

knights and ladies hang upon the walls. A pillar is seen in the

background 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, a jewel-hilted sword, a pair of pistols, an

hourglass, and clock. Another table stands on the opposite side,

with silver pitchers, decanters, and massive goblets.

THE MAN. At the same hour, surrounded by appalling perils, agitated by

foreboding thoughts, the last Brutus met his Evil Genius.

I await a like apparition. A man without a name, without ancestors,

without a faith or guardian angel; a man who is destroying the Past, and

who will, in all probability, establish a new era, though himself sprung

from the very dust, if I cannot succeed in casting him back into his

original nothingness--is now to appear before me!

Spirit of my forefathers! inspire me with that haughty energy which once

rendered you the rulers of the world! Give me the lion heart which erst

throbbed in your dauntless breasts! Give me your peerless dignity, your

noble and chivalric courtesy!

Rekindle in my wavering soul your blind, undoubting, earnest faith in

Christ and in His church: at once the source of your noblest deeds on

earth, your brightest hopes in heaven! Oh, let it open for me, as it was

wont to do for you; and I will struggle with fire and sword against its

enemies! Hear me, the son of countless generations, the sole heir of

your thoughts, your courage, your virtues, and your faults!

The castle bell sounds twelve.

It is the appointed hour: I am prepared!

An old and faithful servant, Jacob, enters, fully armed.

JACOB. My lord, the person whom your excellency expects is in the

castle.

THE MAN. Admit him here.

Exit Jacob.

He reappears, announcing Pancratius, and again retires.

PANCRATIUS. Count Henry, I salute you! The word 'count' sounds strangely

on my lips.

He seats himself, throws off his cloak and liberty cap, and fastens

his eyes on the pillar on which hang the arms and shield.

THE MAN. Thanks, guest, that you have confided in the honor of my house!

Faithful to our ancient forms, I pledge you in a glass of wine. Your

good health, guest!

He takes a goblet, fills, tastes, and hands it to Pancratius.

PANCRATIUS. If I am not mistaken, this red and blue shield was called a

coat of arms in the language of the Dead; but such trifles have vanished

from the face of the earth.

He drinks.

THE MAN. Vanished? With the aid of God, you will soon look upon them by

thousands!

PANCRATIUS. Commend me to the old noble! always confident in himself,

though without money, arms, or soldiers; proud, obstinate, and hoping

against all hope; like the corpse in the fable, threatening the driver

of the hearse at the very door of the charnel house, and confiding in

God, or at least pretending to confide in Him, when confidence in

himself is no longer even possible!

Pray, Count Henry, give me but one little glimpse of the lightning which

is to be sent from heaven, for your especial benefit, to blast me and my

millions; or show me at least one angel of the thousands of the heavenly

hosts, who are to encamp on your side, and whose prowess is so speedily

to decide the combat in your favor!

He empties the goblet.

THE MAN. You are pleased to jest, leader of the people; but atheism is

quite an old formula, and I looked for something _new_ from the _new

men_!

PANCRATIUS. Laugh, if you will, at your own wit, but my faith is wider,

deeper, and more firmly based than your own. Its central dogma is the

emancipation of humanity. It has its source in the cries of despair

which rise unceasingly to heaven from the hearts of tortured millions,

in the famine of the operatives, the grinding poverty of the peasants,

the desecration of their wives and daughters, the degradation of the

race through unjust laws and debasing and brutal prejudices--from all

this agony spring my new formulas, the creed which I am determined to

establish: _'Man has a birthright of happiness_.' These thoughts are my

god, a god which will give bread, rest, bliss, glory to man!

He fills, drinks, and casts and goblet from him.

THE MAN. I place my trust in that God who gave power and rule, into the

hands of my forefathers!

PANCRATIUS. You trust Him still, and yet through your whole life you

have been but a plaything in the hands of the Devil!

But let us leave such discussions to the theologians, if any such still

linger upon earth:--to business, Count Henry, to stern facts!

THE MAN. What do you seek from me, redeemer of the people, citizen-god?

PANCRATIUS. I sought you, in the first place, because I wished to know

you; in the second, because I desire to save you.

THE MAN. For the first, receive my thanks; for the second, trust my

sword!

PANCRATIUS. Your God! your sword! vain phantoms of the brain! Look at

the dread realities of your situation! The curses of the millions are

upon you; myriads of brawny arms are already raised to hurl you to

destruction! Of all the vaunted Past nothing remains to you save a few

feet of earth, scarcely enough to offer you a grave. Even your last

fortress, the castle of the Holy Trinity, can hold out but a few days

longer. Where is your artillery? Where are the arms and provisions for

your soldiers? Where are your soldiers? and what dependence can you

place on the few you still retain? You must surely know there is

nothing left you on which to hang a single hope!

If I were in your place, Count Henry, I know what I would do!

THE MAN. Speak! you see how patiently I listen!

PANCRATIUS. Were I Count Henry, I would say to Pancratius: 'I will

dismiss my troops, my few retainers; I will not go to the relief of the

Holy Trinity--and for this I will retain my title and my estates; and

you, Pancratius, will pledge your own honor to guarantee me the

possession of the things I require.'

How old are you, Count Henry?

THE MAN. I am thirty-six years old, citizen.

PANCRATIUS. Then you have but about fifteen years of life to expect, for

men of your temperament die young; your son is nearer to the grave than

to maturity. A single exception, such as yours, can do no harm to the

great whole. Remain, then, where you are, the last of the counts. Rule,

as long as you shall live, in the house of your fathers; have your

family portraits retouched, your armorial bearings renewed, and think no

more of the wretched remnant of your fallen order. Let the justice of

the long-injured people be fulfilled upon them! (_He fills for himself

another cup._) Your good health, Henry, the last of the counts!

THE MAN. Every word you utter is a new insult to me! Do you really

believe that, to save a dishonored life, I would suffer myself to be

enslaved and dragged about, chained to your car of triumph?

Cease! cease! I can endure no longer! I cannot answer as my spirit

dictates, for you are my guest, sheltered from all insult while under my

roof by my plighted honor!

PANCRATIUS. Plighted honor and knightly faith have, ere this, swung from

a gallows! You unfurl a tattered banner whose faded rags seem strangely

out of place among the brilliant flags and joyous symbols of universal

humanitarian progress. Oh, I know you, and protest against your course!

Full of life and generous vigor, you bind to your heart a putrefying

corpse! You court your own destruction, clinging to a vain belief in

privileged orders, in worn-out relics, in the bones of dead men, in

mouldering escutcheons and forgotten coats of arms--and yet in your

inmost heart you are forced to acknowledge that your brother nobles have

deserved their punishment, that forgetfulness were mercy for them!

THE MAN. You, Pancratius, and your followers, what do you deserve?

PANCRATIUS. Victory and life! I acknowledge but one right, I bow to but

one law, the law of perpetual progress, and this law is your death

warrant. It cries to you through my lips: 'Worm-eaten, mouldering

aristocracy! full of rottenness, crammed with meat and wine, satiated

with luxury--give place to the young, the strong, the hungry!'

But I will save you, and you alone!

THE MAN. Cease! I will not brook your arrogant pity!

I know you, and your new world; I have visited your camp at night, and

looked upon the restless swarms upon whose necks you ride to power! I

saw all: I detected the _old_ crimes peering through the thin veils of

_new_ draperies, shining under new shams, whirling to new tunes,

circling in new dances--but the end was ever the same which it has been

for centuries, which it will forever be: adultery, license, theft, gold,

blood!

But I saw you not there; you were not with your guilty children; you

know you despise them in the depths of your soul; and if you do not go

mad yourself in the mad dances of the blood-thirsty and blood-drunken

people, you will soon scorn and despise yourself!

Torture me no more!

He rises, moves hurriedly to and fro, then seats himself under his

escutcheon.

PANCRATIUS. It is true my world is in its infancy, unformed and

undeveloped; it requires food, ease, material gratifications; but

it is growing, and the time will come--(_He rises from his chair,

approaches the count, and leans against the pillar supporting the

escutcheons_)--the time will come when my world will arrive at maturity,

will attain the consciousness of its own strength, when it will say, I

AM; and there will be no other voice on earth able to reply, 'I ALSO

AM!'

THE MAN. And then?

PANCRATIUS. A race will spring from the generation I am now quickening

and elevating, stronger, higher, and nobler than any the world has yet

produced; the earth has never yet seen such men upon her bosom. They

will be free, lords of the globe from pole to pole; the earth will be a

blooming garden, every part of her surface under the highest culture;

the sea will be covered with floating palaces and argosies of wealth and

commerce; a universal exchange of commodities will carry civilization,

mutual recognition, and comfort to every clime; prosperous cities will

crown every height, and expand their blessings of refinement and culture

o'er every plain; earth will then offer happy and tranquil homes to all

her children, she will be one vast and united house of blissful industry

and highest art!

THE MAN. Your words and voice dissemble well, but your pale and rigid

features in vain struggle to assume the generous glow of a noble

enthusiasm, which your soul cannot feel.

PANCRATIUS. Interrupt me not! Men have begged on bended knees before me

for such prophecies.

The world of the Future will possess a god whose highest fact will not

be his own defeat and death upon a cross; a god whom the people, by

their own power and skill, _will force_ to unveil his face to them; a

god who will be torn by the very children whom he once scattered over

the face of the earth in his anger, from the infinite recesses of the

distant heavens in which he loves to hide! Babel will be no more, all

tribes and nations will meet and understand their mutual wants, and,

united by a _universal language_, his scattered children, having

attained their majority, assert their _right_ to know their creator, and

claim their just inheritance from a common father: '_the full possession

of all truth_!'

The god of humanity at last reveals himself to man!

THE MAN. Yes, He revealed Himself some centuries ago; through Him is

humanity already redeemed.

PANCRATIUS. Alas! let the redeemed delight in the sweetness of such

redemption! let them rejoice in the multiplied agonies which have in

vain cried to a Redeemer for relief during the three thousand years

which have elapsed since His defeat and death!

THE MAN. Blasphemer, cease! I have seen the Cross, the holy symbol of

His mystic love, standing in the heart of the eternal city, Rome; the

ruins of a power far greater than thine were crumbling into dust around

It; hundreds of gods such as those you trust in, were lying prostrate on

the ground, trampled under careless feet, not even daring to raise their

crushed and wounded heads to gaze upon the Crucified. It stood upon the

seven hills, stretching its mighty arms to the east and to the west, its

holy brow glittering in the golden sunshine; men wistfully gazed upon

its perfect lesson of self-abnegating Love; it won all hearts, it RULED

THE WORLD!

PANCRATIUS. An old wife's tale, hollow as the rattling of these vain

escutcheons! (_He strikes the shield._) These discussions are in vain,

for I have read all the secrets of your yearning heart! If you really

wish to find the _infinite_ which has so long baffled your search; if

you love the _truth_, and are willing to suffer for it; if you are a

_man_, created in the image of our common humanity, and not the

impossible hero of an old nursery song--listen to me! Oh, let not these

rapidly fleeting moments, the last in which you can possibly be saved,

pass in vain! The race renews itself, man of the Past; and _of the blood

we shed to-day, no trace will be found to-morrow_! For the last time I

conjure you, if you are what you once appeared to be, A MAN, rise in

your former might, aid the down-trodden and oppressed people, help to

emancipate and enlighten your fellow men, work for the common good,

forsake your false ideas of a personal glory, quit these tottering ruins

which all your pride and power cannot prevent from crumbling o'er you,

desert your falling house, and follow me!

THE MAN. O youngest born of Satan's brood!--(_He paces up and down the

hall, speaking to himself_:) Dreams, dreams, beautiful dreams--but their

realization is impossible! Who could achieve them? Adam died in the

desert--the flaming sword still guards the gates--we are never more to

enter Paradise! In vain we dream!

PANCRATIUS (_aside_). I have driven the probe to the core of his heart;

I have struck the electric nerve of Poetry, which quivers through the

very base of his complicated being!

THE MAN. Progress of humanity; universal happiness; I once believed them

possible! There--there--take my head--my life--if that were possi--....

(_He sighs, and is silent for a moment._) It is past! two centuries ago

it might have been--but now.... But now I have seen and know there will

be nothing but assassination and murder--murder on either side--nothing

can satisfy now but an unceasing war of mutual extermination!

PANCRATIUS. Woe then to the vanquished! Falter not, seeker of universal

happiness! Cry but once with us: '_Woe to the oppressors of the

people_!' and stand preeminent o'er all, the First among the Victors!

THE MAN. Have you already explored all the paths in the dark and unknown

country of the Future? Did Destiny, withdrawing at midnight the curtains

of your tent, stand visibly before you, and, placing her giant hand upon

your scheming brain, impress upon it the mystic seal of victory? or in

the heat of midday, when the world slept, and you alone were watching,

did she glide pale, pitiless, and stern before you, and promise

conquest, that you thus threaten me with defeat and ruin? You are but a

man of clay as fragile as my own, and may be the victim of the first

well-aimed ball, the first sharp thrust of the sword! Your life, like

mine, hangs on a single thread, and you have no immunity from death!

PANCRATIUS. Dreams! idle dreams! Oh do not deceive yourself with hopes

so vain, for no bullet aimed by man will reach me, no sword will pierce

me, while a single member of your haughty caste remains capable of

resisting the task which it is my destiny to fulfil. And what doom

soever may befall me, after its completion, count, will be too late to

offer you the least advantage. (_The clock strikes._) Hark! time

flies--and scorns us both!

If you are weary of your own life, save at least your unfortunate son!

THE MAN. His pure soul is already saved in heaven: on earth he must

share the fate of his father.

His head sinks heavily, and remains for some time buried in his

hands.

PANCRATIUS. You reject too all hope for him?... (_Pauses._) Nay--you are

silent--you reflect--it is well: reflection becomes him who stands upon

the brink of the grave!

THE MAN. Away! away! Back from the passionate mysteries now surging

through the depths of my soul! Profane them not with a word; they lie

beyond your sphere!

The rough, wide world belongs to you; feed it with meat; flood it with

wine; but press not into the holy secrets of my heart! Away! away from

me, framer of material bliss!

PANCRATIUS. Shame upon you, warrior, scholar, poet, and yet the slave of

one idea and its dying forms! Thought and form are wax beneath my

plastic fingers!

THE MAN. In vain would you seek to follow my thoughts; you will never

understand me, for all your forefathers were buried in a common ditch,

as dead things, not as men of individual character and bold distinctive

spirit. (_He points to the portraits of his ancestors._) Look upon these

pictures! Love of country, of family, of the home hearth, feelings at

war with all your ideas, are written in every line of their firm

brows--their spirit lives entire in me, their last heir and

representative. Tell me, O man without ancestors, where is your natal

soil? You spread your wandering tent each coming eve Upon the ruins of

another's home, every morning roll it up again that it may be unrolled

anew at night to blight and spoil! Yon have not yet found a _home_, a

_hearth_, and you will never find one as long as a hundred men live to

cry with me: '_Glory to our fathers_!'

PANCRATIUS. Yes, glory to your fathers in heaven and upon earth; but it

will repay us to look at them a little more closely. (_He points to one

of the portraits._) This gentleman was a famous Starost; he shot old

women in the woods, and roasted the Jews alive: this one with the

inscription, 'Chancellor,' and the great seal in his right hand,

falsified and forged acts, burned archives, stabbed knights, and sullied

the inheritance with poison; through him came your villages, your

income, your power. That dark man played at adultery with the wife of

his friend. This one, with the golden fleece on his Spanish cloak,

served in a foreign land, when his own country was in danger.

This pale lady with the raven ringlets carried on an intrigue with a

handsome page. That one with the lustrous braids is reading a letter

from her gallant; she smiles, as well she may, for night approaches, and

love is bold.

This timid beauty with the deep blue eyes and golden curls, clasping a

Roman hound in her braceleted arm, was the mistress of a king, and

soothed his softer hours.

Such is the true history of your unbroken, ancient, and unsullied line!

But I like this jolly fellow in the green riding jacket; he drank and

hunted with the nobles, and employed the peasants to run down the tall

deer with the hounds. Indeed, the ignorance, stupidity, and wretchedness

of the serf were the strength of the noble, and give convincing proof of

his own intellect.

But the Day of Judgment is approaching: I promise you that none of your

vaunted ancestors, that nought of their fame shall be forgotten in the

dark award.

THE MAN. You deceive yourself, son of the people! Neither you nor your

brethren could have preserved existence, had not our noble ancestors

nourished you with their bread, and defended you with their blood. In

times of famine, they gave you grain, and when the plague swept over you

with its hot breath of death, they built hospitals to receive you, found

nurses to take care of you, and educated physicians to save you from the

grave. When from a herd of unformed brutes they had nurtured you into

human beings, they built schools and churches for you, sharing

everything with you save the dangers of the battle field, for war they

knew you were not formed to bear. As the sharp lance of the pagan was

wont to recoil, shattered and riven, from the glittering armor of my

fathers, so recoil your vain words as they strike the dazzling record

of their long-consecrated glory. They disturb not the repose of their

sacred ashes. Like the howlings of a mad dog, who froths, bites, and

snaps as he runs, until he is driven out of the pale of humanity, so

fall your accusations, dying out in their own insanity.

But it is almost dawn, and time you should depart from the halls of my

ancestors! Pass in safety and in freedom from their home, my guest!

PANCRATIUS. Farewell then, until we meet again upon the ramparts of the

Holy Trinity. And when your powder and ball shall be utterly exhausted?

THE MAN. _We will then approach within the length of our swords._

Farewell!

PANCRATIUS. We are twin Eagles, but your nest is shattered by the

lightning! (_He takes up his cloak and liberty cap._) In passing from

your threshold, I leave the curse, due to decrepitude, behind me. I

devote you and your son to destruction!

THE MAN. Ho! Jacob!

Enter Jacob.

Conduct this man in safety through my last post on the hill!

JACOB. So help me God the Lord!

Exit Jacob with Pancratius.

DEATH IN LIFE.

In some dull hour of doubt or pain,

Who has not felt that life is slain--

And while there yet remain

Long years, perhaps, of joyless mirth,

Ere earth shall claim its kindred earth,

Such years were nothing worth

But that some duty still demands

The sweating brow, the weary hands?

And so Existence stands

With an appeal we cannot shun,

To make complete what Life begun,

With toil from sun to sun.

And so we keep the sorry tryst,

With all its fancied sweetness missed--

Consenting to exist

When Life has fled beyond recall,

And left us to its heir in thrall,

With chains that will not fall.

Belated stars were waning fast

As through an open gate I passed,

And crossed a meadow vast--

And, still descending, followed still

The path that wound adown the hill

And by the ruined mill--

Till in its garden I espied

The cottage by the river side

Where dwelt my promised bride.

Beneath the porch no lantern flared,

No watch dog kept his faithful ward,

The window blinds were barred.

Entering with eager eye and ear,

And ushered by the phantom Fear,

I stood beside the bier

Of one who, passing hence away,

Left something more than lifeless clay,

As twilight lingers after day,

The pulseless heart, the pallid lips,

The eyes just closed in death's eclipse,

The fairy finger tips

So lightly locked across the breast,

Seemed to obey the sweet behest

By angels whispered--Rest!

That beauty had been mine alone,

Those hands had fondly pressed my own,

Those eyes in mine had shone.

The open door was banged about,

As wailing winds went in and out

With sigh and groan and shout.

And darkly ran the river cold,

Whose swollen waters, as they rolled,

A tale of sorrow told.

I could not choose but seek that stream,

Whose sympathetic moan did seem

The music of a dream.

O River, that unceasing lay

Charms each fair tree along thy way,

Until it falls thy prey!

O endless moan within my heart,

Thy constancy has made me part

Of what thou wert and art!

And while I stood upon the brink,

And tried to think, but could not think,

Nor sight with reason link--

A form I had not seen before

Came slowly down the dismal shore;

A sombre robe she wore,

And in her air and on her face

There was a sterner kind of grace,

Heightened by time and place--

A sort of conscious power and pride,

A soul to substance more allied--

Than that of her who died.

With scarce a semblance of design,

Toward me her steps she did incline,

And raised her eyes to mine

So sweetly, so imploringly,

I scarcely wished, and did not try,

To put their pleading by,

And, ere a movement I had made,

Her hand upon my arm she laid,

And whispered: I obeyed.

While one into the darkness sped,

I followed where the other led;

Yet often turned my head,

As one who fancies that he hears

His own name ringing in his ears

Shouted from far-off spheres.

Oh! bliss misplaced is misery!

I love the life I've lost, but, see!

The life that's here loves me.

And while I seem her willing slave,

My heart is hid in weeds that wave

Above a distant grave.

AENONE:

A TALE OF SLAVE LIFE IN ROME.