Festus · Scene 7 (2/2) (1/3)
Lucifer* and Festus*.
Lucifer These be the toils and cares of mighty men! Earth’s vermin are as fit to fill her thrones As these high Heaven’s bright seats.
Festus Men’s callings all Are mean and vain; their wishes more so: oft The man is bettered by his part or place. How slight a chance may raise or sink a soul!
Lucifer What men call accident is God’s own part. He lets ye work your will⁠—it is His own: But that ye mean not, know not, do not, He doth.
Festus What is life worth without a heart to feel The great and lovely, and the poetry And sacredness of things? for all things are Sacred⁠—the eye of God is on them all. And hallows all unto it. It is fine To stand upon some lofty mountain-thought And feel the spirit stretch into a view; To joy in what might be if will and power For good would work together but one hour. Yet millions never think a noble thought: But with brute hate of brightness bay a mind Which drives the darkness out of them, like hounds. Throw but a false glare round them, and in shoals They rush upon perdition: that’s the race. What charm is in this world-scene to such minds Blinded by dust? What can they do in Heaven, A state of spiritual means and ends? Thus must I doubt⁠—perpetually doubt.
Lucifer Who never doubted never half believed. Where doubt there truth is⁠—’tis her shadow. I Declare unto thee that the past is not. I have looked over all life, yet never seen The age that had been. Why then fear or dream About the future? Nothing but what is, is; Else God were not the Maker that He seems, As constant in creating as in being. Embrace the present! Let the future pass. Plague not thyself about a future. That Only which comes direct from God, His spirit, Is deathless. Nature gravitates without Effort; and so all mortal natures fall Deathwards. All aspiration is a toil; But inspiration cometh from above, And is no labour. The earth’s inborn strength Could never lift her up to yon stars, whence She fell; nor human soul, by native worth, Claim Heaven as birthright, more than man may call Cloudland his home. The soul’s inheritance, Its birth-place, and its death-place, is of earth, Until God maketh earth and soul anew; The one like Heaven, the other like Himself. So shall the new Creation come at once; Sin, the dead branch upon the tree of Life, Shall be cut off for ever; and all souls Concluded in God’s boundless amnesty.
Festus Thou windest and unwindest faith at will. What am I to believe?
Lucifer Thou mayst believe But that which thou art forced to.
Festus Then I feel That instinct of immortal life in me, Which prompts me to provide for it.
Lucifer Perhaps.
Festus Man hath a knowledge of a time to come⁠— His most important knowledge: the weight lies Nearest the short end; and the world depends Upon what is to be. I would deny The present, if the future. Oh! there is A life to come, or all’s a dream.
Lucifer And all May be a dream. Thou seest in thine, men, deeds, Clear, moving, full of speech and order; then Why may not all this world be but a dream Of God’s? Fear not! Some morning God may waken.
Festus I would it were. This life’s a mystery. The value of a thought cannot be told; But it is clearly worth a thousand lives Like many men’s. And yet men love to live As if mere life were worth their living for. What but perdition will it be to most? Life’s more than breath and the quick round of blood It is a great spirit and a busy heart. The coward and the small in soul scarce do live. One generous feeling⁠—one great thought⁠—one deed Of good, ere night, would make life longer seem Than if each year might number a thousand days⁠— Spent as is this by nations of mankind. We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most⁠—feels the noblest⁠—acts the best Life’s but a means unto an end⁠—that end, Beginning, mean and end to all things⁠—God. The dead have all the glory of the world. Why will we live and not be glorious? We never can be deathless till we die. It is the dead win battles. And the breath Of those who through the world drive like a wedge, Tearing earth’s empires up, nears death so close It dims his well-worn scythe. But no? the brave Die never. Being deathless, they but change Their country’s arms for more⁠—their country’s heart. Give then the dead their due; it is they who saved us. The rapid and the deep⁠—the fall, the gulf Have likenesses in feeling and in life. And life, so varied, hath more loveliness In one day than a creeping century Of sameness. But youth loves and lives on change Till the soul sighs for sameness; which at last Becomes variety, and takes its place. Yet some will last to die out thought by thought, And power by power, and limb of mind by limb, Like lambs upon a gay device of glass, Till all of soul that’s left be dry and dark; Till even the burden of some ninety years Hath crashed into them like a rock; shattered Their system as if ninety suns had rushed To ruin earth⁠—or Heaven had rained its stars; Till they become, like scrolls, unreadable Throught dust and mould. Can they be cleaned and read? Do human spirits wax and wane like moons!
Lucifer The eye dims and the heart gets old and slow; The lithe limb stiffens, and the sun-hued locks Thin themselves off, or whitely wither;⁠—still Ages not spirit, even in one point, Immeasurably small; from orb to orb, In ever rising radiance, shining like The sun upon the thousand lands of earth. Look at the medley, motley throng we meet! Some smiling⁠—frowing some; their cares and joys Alike not worth a thought⁠—some sauntering slowly As if destruction never could o’ertake them; Some hurrying on as fearing judgment swift Should trip the heels of Death and seize them living.
Festus Grief hallows hearts even while it ages And much hot grief, in youth, forces up life With power which too soon ripens and which drops. A funeral passes. Whose funeral is this ye follow, friends?
Lucifer Would ye have grief, let me come! I am woe.
Mourner We want no grief: Festus! she died of grief.
Festus Did ye say she died? oh! I knew her then. Set down the body; let toe look upon her! Now, Son of God! what dost Thou now in heaven While one so beautiful lies earthening here? I will give up the future for the past; The winged spirit and the starry home If Thou wilt let her live, and make me love.
Mourner She was a lock of Heaven which Heaven gave earth, And took again, because unworthy of her.
Festus Her air was an immortal’s; I have seen Stars look on it with feeling; and her eye, Wherever she went, it won her way like wine. Men bowed to it as to the lifted Host. How could I be so cruel? Who but I? And now, corruption, come; sit; feast thyself! This is the choicest banquet thou hast been at. Thou art my happier, only rival: thou Who takest love from the living⁠—life from beauty⁠— Beauty from death⁠—whole robber of the world!
Mourner The moment after thou desertedst her A cloud came over the prospect of her life; And I foresaw how evening would set in, Early and dark and deadly. She was true.
Festus Did I not love thee too? pure! perfect thing! This is a soul I see and not a body. Go, beauty, Test for aye; go, starry eyes, And lips like rosebuds peeping out of snow; Go, breast love-filled as a boat’s sail with wind, Leaping from wave to wave as leaps a child Thoughtless o’er grassy graves; go, locks, which have The golden embrownment of a lion’s eye! Yet one more look; farewell, thou well and fair! All who but loved thee shall be deathless. Nought Named but with thee can perish. Thou and Death Have made each other purer, lovelier, seem, Like snow and moonlight. Never more for thee Let eyes be swollen like streams with latter rains! To die were rapture having lived with thee. Thy soul hath passed out of a bodily Heaven Into a spiritual. Rest for aye!⁠— Pure as the dead, in life; the dead are holy. I would I were among them. Let us pass! Living is but a habit; and I mean To break myself of it soon.
Lucifer Too soon thou canst not. Men heed not of the day, how nigh none knows, Which brings the consummation of the world. But in my ear the old machine already Begins to grate. They would not credit warning, Or I would up and cry, Repent! I will. Here is a fair gathering and I feel moved. Mortals, Repent! the world is nigh to its end; On its last legs and desperately sick. See ye not how it reels round all day long?
Boys Oh! here’s a ranter. Come, here’s fun. Amen! I know the church service by heart.
Bystander Be off! You’ll serve the church by keeping out of it.
Lucifer I am a preacher come to tell ye truth. I tell ye too there is no time to be lost; So fold your souls up neatly, while ye may; Direct to God in Heaven; or some one else May seize them, seal them, send them⁠—you know where. The world must end. I weep to think of it. But you, you laugh! I knew ye would. I know Men never will be wise till they are fools For ever. Laugh away! The time will come, When tears of fire are trickling from your eyes, Ye will blame yourselves for having laughed at me. I warn ye, men: prepare! repent! be saved! I warn ye, not because I love, but know ye. God will dissolve the world, as she of old Her pearl, within His cup and swallow ye In wrath: although to taste ye would be poison, And death and suicide to aught but God. Again I warn ye. Save himself who can! Do ye not oft begin to seek salvation? You? you? and fail, as oft, to find? Sink? Cease? And shall I tell ye, brethren, why ye fail Once and for ever? why, there is no past; And the future is the fiction of a fiction; The present moment is eternity; It is that ye have sucked corruption from the world Like milk from your own mothers: it is in Your soul-blood and your soul-bones. Earth does not Wean one out of a thousand sons to Heaven. Beginnings are alike: it is ends which differ. One drop falls, lasts, and dries up⁠—but a drop; Another begins a river: and one thought Settles a life, an immortality: And that one thought ye will not take to good. Now I will tell ye just one other truth: Ye hate the truth as snails salt⁠—it dissolves ye, Body and soul⁠—but I don’t mind. So, now: Up to this moment ye are all, each, damned. What are ye now? still damned! It will be the same To-morrow⁠—and the next day⁠—and the next: Till some fine morning ye will wake in fire. Ye see I do not mince the truth for ye. Belike ye think your lives will dribble out As brooks in summer dry up. Let us see! Try: dike them up: they stagnate⁠—thicken⁠—scum. That would make life worse than death. Well, let go! Where are ye then? for life, like water, will Find its last level: what level? The grave. It is but a fall of five feet after all; That cannot hurt ye; it is but just enough To work the wheel of life; so work away! Ye may think that I do not know the terms And treasures whereupon ye live so high. But I know more than most men, modestly Speaking. I know I am lost, and ye too. God Could only save me by destroying me; So that I have no advantage over you. And therefore think ye will the rather bear One of your own state to advise for ye Now don’t you envy me, good folks, I pray⁠— Envy’s a coal comes hissing hot from hell. ’Twill be such coals will burn ye by the way. Your other preachers first think they are safe. Now I say, broadly, I am the worst among ye; And God knows I have no need to wrong myself, Nor you. I boast not of it, but as truth: It is little to be proud of, credit me. What is salvation? What is safety? Think! Who wants to know? Does any?
The Crowd All of us.