The Continental Monthly, Vol 6, No 5, November 1864. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.
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!
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