Boundless vault of blue, so softly pouring round the earth! the earth is
a sick child, gnashing her teeth, weeping, struggling, sobbing; but thou
hearest her not, nor tremblest, flowing in silence ever gently on, calm
in thine own infinity!
Farewell forever, O mother nature! Henceforth I must wander among men! I
must combat with my brethren!
* * * * *
A chamber. The Man. George. A Physician.
THE MAN. No one has as yet been of the least service to him; my last
hopes are placed in you.
PHYSICIAN. You do me much honor.
THE MAN. Tell me your opinion of the case.
GEORGE. I can neither see you, my father, nor the gentleman to whom you
speak. Dark or black webs float before my eyes, and again something like
a snake seems to crawl across them. Sometimes a golden cloud stands
before them, flies up, and then falls down upon them, and a rainbow
springs out of it; but there is no pain--they never hurt me--I do not
suffer, father.
PHYSICIAN. Come here, George, in the shade. How old are you?
He looks steadily into the eyes of the boy.
THE MAN. He is fourteen years old.
PHYSICIAN. Now turn your eyes directly to the light, to the window.
THE MAN. What do you say, doctor?
PHYSICIAN. The eyelids are beautifully formed, the white perfectly pure,
the blue deep, the veins in good order, the muscles strong.
To George.
You may laugh at all this, George. You will be perfectly well; as well
as I am.
To the Man (aside).
There is no hope. Look at the pupils yourself, count; there is not the
least susceptibility to the light; there is a paralysis of the optic
nerve.
GEORGE. Everything looks to me as if covered with black clouds.
THE MAN. Yes, they are open, blue, lifeless, dead!
GEORGE. When I shut my eyelids I can see _more_ than when my eyes are
open.
PHYSICIAN. His mind is precocious; it is rapidly consuming his body. We
must guard him against an attack of catalepsy.
THE MAN (_leading the doctor aside_). Save him, doctor, and the half of
my estate is yours!
PHYSICIAN. A disorganization cannot be reorganized.
He takes up his hat and cane.
Pardon me, count, but I can remain here no longer; I am forced now to
visit a patient whom I am to couch for cataract.
THE MAN. For God's sake, do not desert us!
PHYSICIAN. Perhaps you have some curiosity to know the name of this
malady?...
THE MAN. Speak! is there no hope?
PHYSICIAN. It is called, from the Greek, _amaurosis_.
Exit Physician.
THE MAN (_pressing his son to his heart_). But you can still see a
little, George?
GEORGE. I can _hear your voice_, father!
THE MAN. Try if you can see. Look out of the window; the sun is shining
brightly, the sky is clear.
GEORGE. I see crowds of forms circling between the pupils of my eyes and
my eyelids--faces I have often seen before, the leaves of books I have
read before....
THE MAN. Then you really do still see?
GEORGE. Yes, with the _eyes of my spirit--but the eyes of my body have
gone out forever_.
THE MAN (_falls on his knees as if to pray; pauses, and exclaims
bitterly_:) Before _whom_ shall I kneel--to whom pray--to whom complain
of the unjust doom crushing my innocent child?
He rises from his knees.
It is best to bear all in silence--God laughs at our prayers--Satan
mocks at our curses--
A VOICE. But thy son is a Poet--and what wouldst thou more?
* * * * *
The Physician and Godfather.
GODFATHER. It is certainly a great misfortune to be blind.
PHYSICIAN. And at his age a very unusual one.
GODFATHER. His frame was always very fragile, and his mother died
somewhat--so--so ...
PHYSICIAN. How did she die?
GODFATHER. A little so ... you understand ... not quite in her right
mind.
THE MAN (_entering_). I pray you, pardon my intrusion at so late an
hour, but for the last night or two my son has wakened up at twelve
o'clock, left his bed, and talked in his sleep.
Will you have the kindness to follow me, and watch him to-night?
PHYSICIAN. I will go to him immediately; I am very much interested in
the observation of such phenomena.
* * * * *
Relations, Godfather, Physician, the Man, a Nurse--assembled in the
sleeping apartment of George Stanislaus.
FIRST RELATION. Hush! hush! be quiet!
SECOND RELATION. He is awake, but neither sees nor hears us.
PHYSICIAN. I beg that you will all remain perfectly silent.
GODFATHER. This seems to be a most extraordinary malady.
GEORGE (_rising from his seat_). God! O God!
FIRST RELATION. How lightly he treads!
SECOND RELATION. Look! he clasps his thin hands across his breast.
THIRD RELATION. His eyelids are motionless; he does not move his lips,
but what a sharp and thrilling shriek!
NURSE. Christ, shield him!
GEORGE. Depart from me, Darkness! I am a child of light and song, and
what hast thou to do with me? What dost thou desire from me?
I do not yield myself to thee, although my sight has flown away upon the
wings of the wind, and is flitting restlessly about through infinite
space: it will return to me--my eyes will open with a flash of
flame--and I will see the universe!
GODFATHER. He talks exactly as his mother did; he does not know what he
is saying, I think his condition very critical.
PHYSICIAN. He is in great danger.
NURSE. Holy Mother of God! take my eyes, and give them to the poor boy!
GEORGE. My mother, I entreat thee! O mother, send me thoughts and
images, that I may create within myself a world like the one I have lost
forever!
FIRST RELATION. Do you think, brother, it will be necessary to call a
family consultation?
SECOND RELATION. Be silent!
GEORGE. Thou answerest me not, my mother!
O mother, do not desert me!
PHYSICIAN (_to the Man_). It is my duty to tell you the truth.
GODFATHER. Yes, to tell the truth is the duty and virtue of a physician!
PHYSICIAN. Your son is suffering from incipient insanity, connected with
an extraordinary excitability of the nervous system, which sometimes
occasions, if I may so express myself, the strange phenomenon of
sleeping and waking at the same time, as in the case now before us.
THE MAN (_aside_). He reads to me thy sentence, O my God!
PHYSICIAN. Give me pen, ink, and paper.
He writes a prescription.
THE MAN. I think it best you should all now retire; George needs rest.
SEVERAL VOICES. Good night! good night! good night!
GEORGE (_waking suddenly_). Are they wishing me good night, father?
They should rather speak of a long, unbroken, eternal night, but of no
good one, of no happy dawn for me....
THE MAN. Lean on me, George. Let me support you to the bed.
GEORGE. What does all this mean, father?
THE MAN. Cover yourself up, and go quietly to sleep. The doctor says you
will regain your sight.
GEORGE. I feel so very unwell, father; strange voices roused me from my
sleep, and I saw mamma standing in a field of lilies....
He falls asleep.
THE MAN. Bless thee! bless thee, my poor boy!
I can give thee nothing but a blessing; neither happiness, nor light,
nor fame are in my gift. The stormy hour of struggle approaches, when I
must combat with the _few_ against the _many_.
Tortured infant! what is then to become of thee, alone, helpless, blind,
surrounded by a thousand dangers? Child, yet Poet, poor Singer without a
hearer, with thy soul in heaven, and thy frail, suffering body still
fettered to the earth--what is to be thy doom? Alas, miserable infant!
thou most unfortunate of all the angels! my son! my son!
He buries his face in his hands.
NURSE (_knocking at the door_). The doctor desires to see his excellency
as soon as convenient.
THE MAN. My good Katharine, watch faithfully and tenderly over my poor
son!
Exit.