Chapter VI: Part III: Lincoln Makes a Memorandum (2)

Now mark you, how equal the law
Of weight and of span:
One law for the woman in sin,
The same for the man.

If Moses be still the law-giver,
By nothing dethroned,
And this be the law, then this Sarah
Was fit to be stoned.

And if it be true, as he says,
That he came to fulfill
The law, nor destroy it, why then
We thought he would will
The death of this woman we took
In adultery, yes in the act,
So we argued together beforehand
The law and the fact.

Now the case was this way: this Josiah
Late journeyed from Tyre,
Three wives to his household already,
Yet alive with desire,

And free by our custom and law
To add to his hearth
A fourth for the heirs to his house,
And for comfort and mirth,

Came back in the cause of a field
He had bought; as it chanced
Met up with this Sarah, a wife,
They feasted and danced,

Her spouse being absent, what’s more
In Egypt for good.
So Josiah and Sarah were found
In the act in the wood.

We brought her before him, accused,
And told him the case.
He stooped, as it seemed, to conceal
A blush on his face,
And wrote in the sand, as we stood
And pressed him he wrote:
“Anise” and “cummin” and “gnat”
And “Moses” and “mote.”

We cried all the more, he uplifted
Himself, said: “Begin
Your throwing of stones, let the first
Be him without sin.”

So there I was caught, for he knew--
Like wheat from the scythe
We shrank--I was guilty of sin,
I had failed in my tithe

Of anise. But why have clean hands
To work at our smudges?
And how will you ever stop sin
If you ask of the judges

To be without sin ere they punish
A matter of lust?
I call this a ruling where morals
Fall down in the dust.

The most of us left then. He asked her:
“Does no man condemn?
Nor do I.” And so he made one
With me and with them.

So here in a sense was the world
Spiritual, civil,
Prophet and Pharisee, judge
Leagued up with the devil.

For what did it matter to say
To go and no more
Sin as she had, if the sin
Would fare as before?

It followed that Sarah went free,
And Josiah the man.
One standard for both is the rule,
And the modern plan.

What’s that? Why to sin if you wish--
For what is a sin
If no stones are hurled for the lack
Of a man to begin?

And so it all ended. This Sarah
Was given a bill.
She married Josiah, they say,
And lives with him still.

FIRST ENTRANTS

(_St. Matthew, Chapter XXII: 31._)

We know the game of lawyer and priest;
We know the cunning of Pharisee, Scribe;
We know the malice of soldier, jailer;--
Hearts of those who abstain, imbibe.

And when we saw a God-mad fool
Like John the Baptist who cursed and grieved
For the hate of the elders, the harlot’s sorrow
We listened to him and we believed.

We know we are wronged, he voiced it for us;
We know we are mocked, he gave us place
With the children of grief, the simple hearted,
The broken spirits deserving grace.

He knew men use us and throw us away.
He knew we give and the gift is loathed.
We are the givers to men who scourge us,
Drive us to darkness, cold, unclothed.

And when he said: “Behold he is there
Whose latchet I am unworthy to loose,”
Jesus took us, the humble hearted,
The broken vessels that none will use.

And we believed again, and saw
A youth who loved us without desire;
Feasting, drinking with us the harlots,
Outcasts, sinners, wrecks of the fire.

These were our brothers: John the Baptist,
Jesus of Nazareth. Brothers I say.
Brothers and sisters bound in the service
Of giving comfort and pity away.

Pity and solace and hope of heaven,
Healing and tenderness came of Christ.
And we, the harlots, have given pity
And given delight to men who enticed

This little gift, so easy to give;
This wonder gift to them, as they said.
That is the passion that moves a woman
Before it becomes a matter of bread.

Before the lashes of scorn and the chains,
The dungeons, before the scowls and sneers;
Before the wrath of the priest, the temple’s
Bolted door for our hunger, tears.

Before the delight we sell is stale
As the steps of a dancer, growing old.
All is delight, kisses and dancing--
Men can buy, for they have the gold.

And we, he says, shall enter heaven
Before the priests and the elders do.
Why do we enter? Because as sorrow,
Poverty, humbleness, we are true.

Without pretense or pride. We are children
Who have shirked the task, but repent the sin.
But they, the elders and priests have promised
To work for heaven and never begin.

Why do we enter, save spite of our craft
To wheedle with lies we all stand forth
Known to the world as painted harlots,
Taken by no one over our worth?

And it’s good to enter, if we can be
With Jesus and John, and given reprieve
From priests and elders who run the city
And hound the harlots who see and believe.

JOHN IN PRISON

(_St. Luke, Chapter XVI. St. Matthew, Chapter XI._)

John said to the jailer: “Where are my disciples? Befriend
My grief and my doubt, and entreat them to come, to the end

That they ask him for me if we look for another, or deem,
As I did, that this prophet shall save and fulfill and redeem.”

And the jailer replied: “Since the wrath of King Herod a dish
Your head shall contain by to-morrow, I give you your wish.”

So he brought the disciples to John and the two of them led
To the cell where he sat, and John to the two of them said:--

“At this end of my life and my hopes, at the door of my doom
Go ask him for me and report: is it he that should come,

Or shall we yet look for another?” Amazed were the two
And one of them spoke to the Baptist and said: “Is it true

That you preached in the wilderness saying repent and prepare
The way of the Lord, whose shoes I am worthless to bear;

Who will fan out the chaff, gather wheat, purge the floor
With fire and the Spirit baptize you, bring down and restore

The kingdom of heaven? And are we abused in the word
That as he came out of the waters of Jordan you heard

A voice call from heaven which thundered: ‘This son of my love
With whom I am pleased you shall hear,’ and a dove

For the Spirit descended upon him--and yet can you ask
If he be the one that should come? Yet we take up the
task

And go at your bidding.” And John said: “I suffer without
You seek him and ask, for this is the cause of my doubt:--

I have heard of his works and rejoice. But why does he feast
When I fasted myself? And how have the rumors increased

That he fellows with publicans, sinners and drinkers of wine,
A bibber himself, when the springs of the desert were mine?

And how is the ax, as I said, laid close to the root of the tree,
And my curses fulfilled of the Pharisees, if this must be?

And if, as they say, he is preaching the word that we make
Of the unrighteous mammon a friend for the day when we break

With the lords of the riches of truth, as he put it, for then
The unrighteous mammon shall take us, console us again:--

I have wasted the goods of my lord! I am caught and accused!
Shall I make good the theft from my lord in a trust I abused?

Why, no! I go out to the debtors, my master to foil,
How much do you owe him? Why, so many measures of oil!

Sit down then, I say, make the bill but a half, quickly write:--
I am wiser in this, so he says, than the children of light--

As I make for myself by the trick of a thief, and a theft,
The confederates’ home for my own for my honor bereft.

Go! learn if he said this. Return ere the rise of the sun:--
Shall we look for another to save us, or is he the one?”

ANANIAS AND SAPPHIRA

Who is that coming? Look! They are bearing a body again.
It’s a woman now, I think. And the very same young men

Who brought Ananias’ body we buried a moment ago.
Pat down the earth a little, the grass will sooner grow.

Yes, now I see it’s Sapphira. What did she do to win
Death at the hands of Peter, or was it her husband’s sin?

To which she agreed, or kept her husband’s secret in faith.
They sold a sheep, as I hear it, and suffered sudden death

For hiding part of the price, for a thing commendable:
Their boy is sick, and they needed money to get him well.

Just look how things are going: Cæsar the despot rules,
The state is his. For the rest, we are run by a pack of fools;

Zealots and mystics who say that the end of the world is near.
Tyranny around us, on top, under us dullness and fear.

Songs and the wine-cup banished, freedom throttled blue.
It’s the same here being a Greek, Persian, Median, Jew.

Roman sovereignty over us, merciless, cold and bright.
Fogs over the land of dust, day no different than night.

Listless we labor or idle, creep into an early bed.
Sleep is the best thing now, and the best is the sleep of the dead.

Prepare for the end of the world! Build up the church, the throne,
Sell all your goods and give, have nothing to call your own;

Put everything in common. That’s one cry. What remains?
Taxes, soldiers, prisons, edicts, laws and chains.

There never was such a time! What man is lord of his soul?
Someone entered my barn and took my ass with foal

For the prophet to ride on in triumph. I was there and saw him ride,
Crowds crying hallelujah pressing on every side.

They would have all things in common. They kill a man and his wife,
And Cæsar rules as always, and yet they call this life!

Wars forever and ever, manned by hovels and huts;
And what is it all about? lands, and gold and guts;

And baptists stirring the dreamers, and bankers that thrive thereby.
Why kill off Ananias when the whole of life is a lie?

All right, young men, put her down. Go to it now with the spade.
We’ll bury the woman Sapphira here where her husband’s laid.

They’re out of it. Neither Cæsar nor Peter can wake their sleep.
I lost my ass, and they lost their lives for the price of a sheep.

And Cæsar will rule forever! And Peter if he grows strong
Will make a pact with Cæsar, and Israel’s woe and wrong

Will spread all over the earth. It takes no prophet to see
That while there is Gold and Fear man will never be free--

Until the world is fed, and hunger steals like a wraith
With the ghost of Cæsar’s lust, and the mist of Peter’s faith.

THE TWO MALEFACTORS

Ask Matthew, or ask Mark, and get the truth.
I know myself, was there and heard them both--
Both railed at him. No! one did not rebuke
The other for his railing; did not ask
To be remembered when into his Kingdom
Jesus should come. What kingdom? David’s?--pah!
That had gone whirling with the desert’s dust.
What kingdom? That within you? A fool’s kingdom!
“To-day thou shalt be with me in Paradise,”
He never said that. I was there. I know.
And if he did, where is that paradise?
Where is he? And where is the man they say
He said this to? Ask Matthew, learn the truth:
Both railed at him. Both died, nerved to the last
By bitter disappointment.

Listen, friend,
These malefactors were my brothers! Well,
I saw them grow up lusty. I beheld
Their course from hope to action, till defeat
And prison took them.

For we are the sons,
We Jews, of those who went to Babylon;
Returned to fall by Alexander’s sword;
Were snatched by Syria, then Egypt came,
Put heels upon our necks. Rome sailed to us,
And took us over. And these bitter years
Made poets, prophets of us, spurred us on
To inflate the dream Jehovah with our breath
Of threats and curses; yet these bitter years
Kept at white heat the hope of David’s throne,
Restored, triumphant, and our prophecies
Were from Jehovah of a king to come
Who would free Israel, drive the oppressor off,
And let us live as men.

Now it may be
A certain Jacob was his grandfather,
As Matthew says; or it may be that Heli
Was his grandfather, as Luke says, but still
Both say he was of David. And Luke says
The angel Gabriel came to Mary, his mother,
And said he shall be great and shall be called
The Son of the Most High, and God shall give him
The throne of his father David. He shall reign
Over the house of Jacob, and his kingdom
Shall have no end. We looked for such a one
To free us and with portents such as stars,
And Gabriel descending, Bethlehem
Become his birth-place, and the prophecies
Of old fulfilled, we looked for Israel freed,
And for a king of Jewish blood to rule us--
No Cæsar any more. For it was prophesied
Of Bethlehem: For out of thee shall come
A governor, a shepherd of my people!
And look, he’s born in Bethlehem! And why not
Our hope re-kindled?

And now look at us;
These centuries bruised, imprisoned and made poor,
Jerusalem a city of wails and woes,
The whole of Israel slaved! And look at him!
How does he start his work, whatever it be?
By reading from Isaiah at Nazareth:--
“The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because
He anointed me to preach good tidings to
The poor, hath sent me to proclaim release
To captives and to set at liberty
Them that are bruised.”

What doctrine may this be,
But change, or revolution, and the ferment
Of new wine bursting bottles frail and old,
This tyranny of Cæsar, this dependence
On alien rulership? You know yourself
Barabbas was not single in the crime
Of insurrection, ask the fellow Mark.
He’ll tell you this Barabbas lay in bonds
With many who rose up, committed murder.
Of these were my two brothers, crucified
With Jesus on that day.

Well, so it was
He preached, was followed by the poor, the weak,
The slaved, despoiled until ’twas noised abroad
Through all the hill country and in the cities
That he stirred up the people everywhere,
Devising revolution, overthrow
Of Cæsar’s rule. But there was murmuring too:
For some said he was good, and others said
He deceived the people. For upon a day
When he was asked directly of our tribute,
Whether to pay to Cæsar, not to pay,
He dodged and said: “Give Cæsar his due and God
His due”; but what we wished to know, was what
Was Cæsar’s due, and give it him, and if
No tribute was his due, but rather casting
The yoke of Cæsar, then give Cæsar that.
He did not answer what the Pharisees asked,
That which _we_ wished to hear him answer, though
The Pharisees had asked him. For we poor,
Enslaved and disinherited had followed
His leadership thus far.

Behold the change:
Passing from work unfinished he becomes
The Son of God and God himself, becomes
A mystery, the Word that lived and wrought
Before John who announced him. Tidings preached,
I grant you, to the poor, but who remain
Poor as before, but worn for broken hope
Of words that changed no thing. And no release
To captives, and no liberty to those
Bruised and in chains. And so I say his work
Is left unfinished, nothing done in truth.
And quickly, like a sun-rise on the hills,
He flashes forth his God-head, and we’re left
To Cæsar’s will, and end up with the words:--
His kingdom is of heaven, not of earth;
Refines the point: this kingdom is within us.
And he will die and rise again from death,
Ascend to heaven, and return again
Before this generation passes to take up
His own to heaven, and will rule forever
In heaven, not in Israel. For the world
Is to be burnt, with all its disbelievers.
And when it’s burnt, sitting at God’s right hand
He’ll rule forever with his own! You see
What we expected vanished in such words,
Such madness, idle dreams.

But, as I said,
His lineage was David’s; Matthew, Mark
Will tell you so. But David said of Christ,
Calling him Lord; sit thou on my right hand
Till I make enemies of thine thy foot-stool.
“How is Christ son of David, being his Lord?”
Asked Jesus of the Pharisees, closed their mouths
With asking that. The common people heard
Him gladly when he said this--true enough!
But I, my brothers, did not hear him gladly.
For if he were the son of God, yet equal
In being and in time with God, why not
The son and lord of David? Both perplex
The spirit of man; one mystery is as dark
As another mystery, and if one be so, then
Another may be also. Pass the point....

They crucified my brothers with him! Both
Railed on him for deliverance from the cross.
If he were God, he could have plucked the nails
And let them down, escape. And listen now:
My brothers kept their faith in him to the last,
And since they were condemned and had to pay
For insurrection on the cross, chose out
His day of crucifixion for their own;
Believed that he would save them, and so make
This choosing of his time of penalty
An hour of luck. And so I tell you truth:
Though both were railing it was rather pain
Than lack of hope that made them rail at him.
Nor was it mockery that made them rail.
They hoped to stir him by their words, evoke
His greatest strength to help them that they railed.
They even smiled a little when the nails
Were driven through their hands, as if to say:
“You cannot harm us when this god is here;
Go, do your butcher business, for at last
He’ll save himself and us.” And just as men
Refuse to think death near, and still believe
They will escape it somehow, when no aid,
But human hands is near, my brothers thought
This god would surely save them. So they talked,
Hunched up their legs and shoulders to ease up
The strain of hanging on the nails, and waited,
Joked with the lookers on, and smiled and begged,
And sweated agony and railed at last.
But when the voices in the crowd called out:
“If you trust God, let God deliver you,
If you are God’s son, let Him save you now;
Save thou thyself!” my older brother said:
“If I were off this cross I’d break your heads,
You crooked priests, you whited sepulchers,
You carrion Scribes and Pharisees.”

And such noise
As they cast lots to get his garments, shouts
When they were won and parted! In a silence
He asked his Father to forgive them, saying
They knew not what they did. My brother bawled:
“They know what they are doing, they have killed
The prophets in all ages! Don’t say that!
Don’t end up soft, you cursed them hitherto,
These are the vipers that you cursed before;
These are the vultures that you said you’d shut
The gates of heaven against; these are the wolves
That thirst for blood and lap it, unrepentant
Blasphemers against you and the Holy Ghost;
Committers of unpardonable sins, the band
You drove with knotted cords from out the temple.
And what is usury or selling doves
To killing you? Why ask your Father this?
Why now this softness? Change of mood, why prayers
Instead of curses? If you’re dying, sire,
Be what you were when you were flush with life,
And curse them into hell. Hold to your strength,
And curse them into hell.” And so it went
With talking back and forth, mixed in with groans,
And curses, railings, while my brothers twisted
Their bodies, and hunched up their thighs and backs
To ease the strain of hanging on the nails,
And dribbled at the mouth, and babbled things
And laughed like devils in a soul possessed.

But when he thirsted and they took a sponge
And gave him vinegar, and he sucked it in,
They looked at him with eyes that bulged with fear:--
They saw him drooping, fainting, losing strength,
They struggled then and shouted: “Keep on breathing!
Breathe deep! Call on your Father! Don’t give up!
Fight for your life, your god-head and ourselves!
We’re here because you came and preached, and stirred
The people! Don’t desert us now! Great Lord,
Messiah, Son of God, are we first martyrs
To what you failed to do? We cannot die,
You must not die. Let David’s throne be lost
As lost it is, but not our lives! Great Lord!”
Thus as they chattered, chattered, bawled and shouted
Jesus threw back his head and cried so loud
That all the valleys echoed it: “My God,
My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” And then
His head dropped on his chest--and he was dead....

They looked at him--my brothers looked at him,
And whimpered--they were beaten, but fought on.
Tears stained with blood went coursing down their cheeks.
And then the soldiers came to break their legs.
And one had fainted, but the other one
Was fighting still and said: “Have mercy friend,
Cæsar would save me, what does Cæsar care
For one poor rebel?”

Then they broke their legs,
And all were dead. So ended up another
Chapter in this poor world’s hopeless hope.

BERENICE

AGRIPPA

How is it with this people?

FESTUS

Much the same.
They kick the Roman rule. Like flame in stubble,
Which being slapped with sticks, leaps up and spreads,
Oppression makes them hotter.

BERENICE

And why not?
Seeing their customs, altars, arks and temples
The beauty of their faith, as they have dreamed it,
And fashioned it with hands from gold and wood
Is desecrated.

FESTUS

How to firmly keep
The rule of Cæsar, leave their god untouched,
That is the problem. Where the state and god
Are one, inseparable, can Cæsar rule
And not subject their god? There was this Judas
Together with a Pharisee named Sadduk
Who fought the Roman census of the Jews,
Raised revolution in religion’s name,
A cunning strategy. You could not crush
The revolution, leave their faith unharmed.
And now this new sect called the Nazarenes--
The country’s in a tumult.

AGRIPPA

Yes, these Nazarenes,
The worst of all.

BERENICE

I have heard the desert
Fosters a little burr of poisonous spines
Which sometimes as the lion roams the sands,
Sticks in the hairy clefts between his claws.
It itches, stings, and maddens; with a growl
The lion lays him down and with his tongue
Licks out the pest. It sticks upon his tongue.
He has no second tongue to lick it thence.
It sticks and stings. The poison spreads apace
And puffs the rebelling member till his throat
Narrows for breath. And then he runs and roars,
And with his nose plows through the sand, lies down,
Digs in the desert, leaps, rolls over, froths,
Grows green of eye; chokes to his death at last.
Rome is your lion, and the burr these Jews.

AGRIPPA

Sweet sister, be as apt with counsel as
Your parable is apt.

BERENICE

You have my word.
Let them alone, their internecine strife
’Twixt sect and sect fight out. Madmen they are
And zealots--let them choke and strive and wail.
Jesus they killed and Stephen. But should Rome
Repress religions, doctrines, script or speech?
If what they teach be false ’twill die, if true
You cannot kill it.

AGRIPPA

You could say as well
If thickets bear no apples they will die;
If they bear apples you can kill them not.
But thickets bear no apples. Apple trees
Fall easily to the ax. And so with truth,
And false truth. Where you have one man who’s wise
You have a million fools, who take the stones
Of ignorance and error in their hands
And overwhelm the wise. Rome shall not fall,
Recede, relent before a mob like this.

FESTUS

They seem to thrive by being mowed, and yet
If left uncut they choke us. There is Paul,
My heritage from Felix, jailed two years,
And brought before me by the Jews, who charged
Offenses numerous against him, such
As breaches of the Jewish law, attacks
Upon their temple, on the emperor,
Contemned perhaps, the which they could not prove.
Now to report to you, O King, my judgment
Divided in the case of Paul. I sought
To do the Jews a pleasure. So I asked:
Will you go to Jerusalem and be judged?
But Paul replied: I stand at Cæsar’s seat,
There should my judgment be.

AGRIPPA

O, wicked Rome,
Whose laws become a haven to her foes
When they are troubled.

FESTUS

Yes, I told these Jews
Rome does not give a man to die before
He meets his accusers face to face, has time
To answer for himself. And so it was
I came to Cæsarea, had him brought
And heard the case. As I supposed, they charged
This Paul with nothing, only matters raised
Of their own superstitions, and of Jesus
Whom Paul affirmed, affirms to be alive,
Though dead long since. But as he had appealed
To Cæsar I commanded he be kept
Till I might send him. But what shall I say?
How shall I send him, after all, to Cæsar
Without a writing that shall signify
Why and for what I send him? Cæsar’s time
Is not for crimeless causes.

AGRIPPA

Nevertheless
As he’s appealed to Cæsar he must go.
But I would hear him.

FESTUS

I have sent for him
That you may hear him. There, he enters now!

(_Paul is brought in._)

He has a speech that he has often made
How first he persecuted, for in truth Agrippa
He is a catapult that has sprung up
As far as he was pulled the other way.
And he will tell you how he stoned this Stephen,
And hunted Nazarenes: and how he went
With writs of persecution from the priests
Up to Damascus, on the way saw light
From heaven, heard the voice of Jesus cry
That he should be a minister to the faith,
And preach as he had persecuted. You see
The rebound of nature, mind.

BERENICE

How thin,
How pale he is, how bright his eyes! Agrippa
Confine him to the matter of this god
Who died, and from the dead arose. O Death,
You are man’s horror, and we brood upon you,
Our altars are placations to your wrath.
This Paul is mad for thinking of you, mad
With faith that he has conquered you. Look there!
See how his eyes are staring bright as fire--
I am afraid. And yet if it were true
Jesus arose, nay if the world could be
Persuaded that he rose, the faith would sweep
The world with fire, and crumble every temple
And altar of our gods in almighty Rome.
Look how he stares!

AGRIPPA

There is a noble madness,
A madness which has slaved nobility
And energy and eloquence. Say now
Who saw this Jesus after he arose?
Did Paul? Who saw him?

FESTUS

No one that I know.
Not Paul. He says a multitude. Some disciples,
Some women, and one Peter.

AGRIPPA

Where are they?
Bring one to me. Bring Peter; bring a woman.
This is the cause I’d hear. And if this Paul
Can bring me witness, though his crime were great
As Hannibal’s on Rome, I’ll set him free.
Why look at him! Is this new matter to me?
Is he the first who for the gods went mad?
Or for the mystery of life went mad?
Or madness took for what we are and why,
And what this life means? For this world has seen
A perfect harmony and working thought
And inspiration in a thousand minds
Of madness on some matter. Fellow, come
Close here before me. Look at me. Yes, well,
There is the light of rising suns, and stars
That burn immortally, in your eyes. Now speak.
Did Jesus die?

PAUL

He died.

AGRIPPA

Did he arise?

PAUL

He arose.

AGRIPPA

How long being dead?

PAUL

Three days.

AGRIPPA

Saw you him in life?

PAUL

No.

AGRIPPA

In death?

PAUL

No.

AGRIPPA

After he rose?

PAUL

No! I only heard his voice.

AGRIPPA

Where?

PAUL

On the way to Damascus.

AGRIPPA

What did he say?

PAUL

“It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.”

AGRIPPA

What else?

PAUL

I asked, “Who art thou Lord?”

AGRIPPA

And then?

PAUL

“I am Jesus,” he said, “whom thou persecutest.
To thee have I come to make of thee a witness
And a minister.”

AGRIPPA

Since then you have preached,
For which the Jews have persecuted you
As you stoned Stephen?

PAUL

Yes.

AGRIPPA

And you affirm
That Jesus from the dead arose?

PAUL

Thou hast said.
But also I affirm that all shall rise
From death who in the Christ believe, save those
Who live now, and shall die not ere he come.

AGRIPPA

He comes again?

PAUL

Quickly, even before
This generation passes.

AGRIPPA

You are mad.
Do you appeal to Cæsar?

PAUL

I appeal.

AGRIPPA

Why not be stoned as Stephen was and rise?
If you believe in Jesus, you believe
They cannot kill you.

PAUL

As you will, O King.
I must finish my course, whatever time I die.

AGRIPPA

I could have set you free, if you had taken
To Cæsar no appeal. Being as it is
I send you up to Rome. Who can find out
The workings of a mind? Yet true it is
He saves himself out of a cunning thought
Of this appeal to Cæsar. Turn him over
To the Centurion Julius--on to Rome.
We have conferred together. He has done
No thing deserving death. Take him to Rome.
He’ll find a house and hire it, in Rome
Live unmolested, preach, hear Mithra preached
Who cheated death, they say, as Jesus did.
Now let us rise and to the banquet room.
Come Sister, Festus, to the banquet room.

NEBUCHADNEZZAR: _OR_ EATING GRASS

Nebuchadnezzar the King, called Ha-Rashang,
Which is to say, the wicked, by the Jews;
I, King of Babylon, the beautiful,
The mighty who have spread the prospering code
Of Hammumrapi, and the obelisk
Of diorite whereon the code is stamped,
Kept in the Temple of Marduk, myself
The lover of progress, beauty, breathe this prayer:
Peace to all peoples, nations, languages
That dwell in all the earth, and also peace
Be multiplied to you; this I record
Upon these bricks of Babylon, and as well
My glory and my madness.

First attend:
What would the gods, the god Jehovah even
Have me to do, me gifted with this strength,
This wisdom, skill in arms? Sit in a hut
Of mud beside the Tigris, be a marsh
Of spirit, sleeping, oozing, grown with flags?
Or be Euphrates rushing, giving life
And drink of life to fields? What should I do?
Suffer this Syra to dream and drool?
Jerusalem to boast, dispute and trade,
And vaunt its favoring heaven, or go forth
And smite Jerusalem and Tyre and take them,
And lead their peoples back to Babylon,
And make them work and serve me, build canals,
Great reservoirs, my palace, city walls,
The Hanging Gardens, till my Babylon
In all this would become a wonder, terror
And worthy of my spirit, hope and dream;
A city and a kingdom in the world
Become the external substance, form and beauty,
Administration, order of a soul
Lordly and gifted--mine, my Babylon,
My dream expressed!

That which I did they tried
To do and failed in doing, even themselves
Would rule as I have ruled, build as I builded,
Win glory as I won it; to that end
Did they invoke their gods, and in the mouths
Of gods and of Jehovah put the curses
And wails of failure. I have triumphed, now
My gods are full of song; I have maintained
My kingdom and my spirit, driving out
The aggressor Necho, who came forth from Egypt,
Syria and Palestine to take from me,
Him I destroyed at Carchemish--my spirit
Have I regained and healed. And now in age,
These eighty years of life gone over me,
And rulership of forty years, I sit
Within the level sun-light of my age,
And at this close of day upon my roof
And view my Babylon; but without fear
Madness will come upon me ever again.
The glory of my kingdom has returned,
My honor and my brightness have returned;
My counselors and lords have come to me;
I am established in my age, and excellent
Majesty is added unto me.

All this
Though here upon this roof, upon this spot,
My madness came upon me, when I looked
Over the roofs and temples of my city
And said: Is not this Babylon, the great,
That I have builded for my kingdom’s house
By the might of my power and for the honor
Of my great majesty? Why was it so?

First genius and the dream, then toil and pain
While hands lay stone on stone, and as the stones
Rise from the earth, where naked slaves cry out,
Wheel, lift and grunt; and mortar, scaffolding,
Pillars of cedar strewn confusedly,
Your dream is blurred, even while your city rises
Out of the dream. I was like to a woman
In the pain of travail, who is mad with pain,
Scarce knows her friends or what is being done,
Nor needs to know, since nature orders all,
Delivers her, but lets the mid-wife lift
The infant to her breast. Even so with me,
I had conceived this Babylon, nourished it
In the womb of my genius where it grew, came forth
Whole like a child at last from scaffoldings,
Confusion, waste of mortar, stone and bronze.
And when it was accomplished, then my madness
Came on me in a moment of clear seeing
That this which was within me, was without me;
Was substance and reality before me;
Was even myself gone out of me, as the child
Goes from the mother--then my madness came
Not when I saw it first, for I had seen it
Both from this roof and from the Hanging Gardens,
And from the temple of Bel, and in the streets;
But seen it without knowing, as the mother
Exhausted, dulled with agony may know
The child is born, without the consciousness,
The wonder and the rapture of the child,
As the miracle that was of her, but now
Is a miracle external and a life,
A beauty separate, that walks from her
And has its life and way, herself and hers,
But different and its own.

And so it was
When I beheld my Babylon, saw my dream
Spread out before me, clear and definite,
A beauty separate, my very soul
Torn out of me and fashioned into stone,
Having its life and way, myself and mine,
Yet being itself, its own. If I had seen
Myself divided and become two men,
My other self come toward me, stand, extend
His hand to me, my terror were not more
Than this to see my Babylon. In that moment
My madness came upon me.

But before,
Some nights and days before this I had lain
In troubled dreams upon my couch, had dreamed
Of images and trees, for daily cares
Of empire and the fears of change and loss
Had entered in my dreams. Cyaxeres
Dreamed that a vine grew from his daughter’s womb
And overshadowed Asia, which denoted
Her offspring should be clothed with majesty
And rulership of Asia. As for me,
My tree was felled, only the stump was left,
Bound to the earth with brass and iron--this
Foretold what I am now, as Daniel said,
Interpreting my dream. These dreams had come
Which shook me for the thought of human life--
How frail and fleeting! But again to hear
Curses about me for my work and genius
Called by these Jews Ha-Rashang; and to feel
Though I had chosen Daniel, Hananiah,
Michael, Azariah for mine own,
And to be taught to help me in the task
Of my administration; even though
I chose all men for duty, wisest use
And in my great humanity and strength
Had placed my subjects where they best could serve
The beauty and the progress of my city--
Though, as I said, to feel that I had done
All things for good and with no thought but good,
Yet still to hear these curses and to see
The worthlessness of human kind, the crowd,
I bowed my head and prayed to Ishtar saying:
Make me an animal and let me feed
With beasts instead of these: So had I prayed
Before my madness in that moment came.

Then as to that, my madness: it was sunset,
I walked upon my palace’s level roof,
And looked upon my Babylon; then I thought
Of all my labors, how I had restored
The temples of Borsippa, Uruk, Ur,
Sippar and Larsa, Dilbat; made the plains
Below the great Euphrates rich in corn;
Brought plenty to my people, bread and wine
To all my people; laughter, as it may be,
Between our fated tears to all my people,
And then I looked on Babylon lying there
Beneath the evening’s sunlight, safe behind
Its sixty miles of walls unscalable,
Rising four hundred feet, impregnable
For near a hundred feet of width in stone.
I saw its hundred gates of durable bronze;
My eyes were lifted to the terraces
Up, up above the river to the temple
Of Bel who blessed my city, and I saw
The temples built to Nebo, Sin and Nana,
Marduk and Shamash, saw my aqueducts,
The houses of my people, in between
The palm grooves and the gardens bearing food
Enough to feed the city if besieged;
Beheld the Hanging Gardens which I built
To soothe Amytis, who had memories
Of mountainous Media, gazing on
The Babylonian plains.

So as I stood
And looked upon my city, voices passed
Below me muttering Ha-Rashang, and then
This Babylon, my Babylon, lay before me
As my genius realized, grown out of me,
Myself become another, and a being
Which once was me, but now no more was me,
Was mine and was not mine; and with that thought
Rising like Enlil, god of storm and thunder,
Over my terrored spirit, I grew mad
And fled among the beasts, where for a season
I ate grass with the oxen, let the dew
Fall on my body, till my hairs were grown
Like eagle’s feathers and my nails were grown
Like claws of birds. In madness and in hate
Of men and life, in loathing of my glory,
My genius and my labors did I live;
In loathing of these tribes who hate the mother
Goddess of our ritual and belief;
Tribes who have made religion of the hate
Of procreative nature, curse the flame
Of beauty, and of love wherewith I built
This Babylon of glory, lust of life;
Till nature cured me and I came again
To rule my Babylon, my excellence
Of majesty returned.

What am I now,
Bowed with these eighty years? My Babylon,
What is it now to me? I am a father
Whose son is aging, even has made his place
And lived to see it fade, diminish. A son
So old his sonship is a memory,
Has almost ceased to be--that’s Babylon.
And I, the father, know this Babylon
As creature of my loins, yet indeed
This city scarcely differs from the cities
That lie afar, as aging sons are men
Among the men of earth, but scarcely more
To a father bent with time than other men.
For in my riotous genius, like a vine
I did put forth this branch, the vine decays,
The branch will live a season. Out of genius
And lust of life to madness, out of madness
To this tranquillity, and this setting sun,
This peace with heaven.

HIP LUNG _ON_ YUAN CHANG

You like store? You like Chinese tea? You like me?
You like silk, fan, screen, dragon, pearl chair, jade;
You like Chinese tobacco, picture, Budda too,
Well, as Geesu Klist? All light Lee,
You Chinaman, maybe. I like Chicago too.
I like you, and Hinky Dink, lots I like.
Good city here, much friends. I make some money,
Go back to China sometime. Keep store here,
Come back to store.

China old country, vely old country,
Wise country, much wise men long time ago.
Here book Shu Ching, about old time,
More’n tree tousand year ago. Here Lun Yu book
About Confucius, live long time ago, much time
Before live Geesu; taught love one another,
Be good to good men; bad men be fair to; speak truth.
Where sun and moon shine, all place, love and honor
Come to Confucius, brother of God.

More yet:
Lao Tzu great man, too, who say be good
To bad men; Chinaman read; close book and speak
What book says; to be wise, Chinese learn to speak
What book say closed, on shelf, burned up, or lost.
Chicago good town, Amelika good country, England,
Europe good country too, but China good country,
Wise long time ago, when no Amelika was,
No town in England, and no book in Europe,
Two tousand year before Geesu Kliste came.
Some say Budda greater than Kliste;
Chinee say Confucius greater than Budda.
I say all gods; leave alone--what you care?
Kill Chinaman if you wish, golden rule is golden rule
In Pekin, or Jerusalem.

Geesu Kliste people,
Salvation Army come and say: “Hip Lung,
Be saved, love Geesu Kliste, be baptized.”
I know the Four Books, I say the Four Books
And never look; but when I say Confucius
Taught Golden Rule and love, they say, not clear
Like Geesu Kliste, Confucius heathen man,
Not good like Geesu Kliste. All light! All light!
I sing about the Dragon Boats, go round
The store till they go on. They no read
The Four Books, no care. Sometime I ask
Why China not hear about Geesu Kliste for years.
Why? Eh? We hear of Budda, why
No hear of Kliste?

Kliste people say
Tree hundred year they know Kliste comin’--
China no hear. China hear ’bout Budda
Tree hundred year after Budda die.
Ming Ti, great king, sent down India
To hear ’bout God Budda.
China no hear of Kliste then ...
Tousand year after God Budda die,
Great man come to China; Fa Hsien,
Kliste dead now four hundred year,
But China no hear. Why?
Fa Hsien go to India to get books about Budda.
Go trou Gobi desert--no birds, tigers,
But much dragons and devils.
Fa Hsien go to Benares, Budda, Gaya, Ceylon
Come back with books about light way;
See light, hope light, speak light,
Do light, live light, try light; light mind,
Light happiness. And China hear
And love Budda!...

Kliste dead four hundred year--
Alle time much people in China, temples, cities,
Much books, many wise men.
And Kliste dead now six hundred year,
And China no hear. Kliste!
Same time god Budda grow in China.

Kliste dead more’n six hundred year,
And Arabs come from Medina to Canton,
Tell about prophet of God Muhammed--Allah!
But no Kliste much.

Next year, Kliste dead now ’bout 630 year.
Salvation Army come from Persia, and China hear
’Bout Kliste, too late; god Budda worshipped now
By much China people.

Year before Salvation Army from Persia
Great man come again: Yuan Chang.
He go to India to get books
’Bout god Budda, and see holy place.
You no hear ’bout Yuan Chang? No?
Greek men, great men, and Cheeser,
Napoleon great men and popes, and Roosevelt--
All light! Yuan Chang great man too.
Like Fa Hsien he go trou Gobi desert,
Fight robbers, dragons, no water, no food;
See much broken cities;
Go from Samarkand to Nepal;
Gone fourteen years;
Come back to Singor,
Tai-tsung emperor now,
And vely glad to see Yuan Chang,
Who bring tousands of books by god Budda,
Gold, silver, crystal images of god Budda,
And bones of god Budda, hair, nails, leaves of Bo tree,
All like that. Where is Kliste now? I don’t know.
China hear not much....

Tai-tsung great emperor! Know much too!
Know about Allah, know about Budda,
Know about Kliste, and Salvation Army.
But Tai-tsung no give a damn,
Only say to Yuan Chang:
Write Budda books in China language.
And write Lao Tzu in Indian language.
Trade gods that way! We no lose.
Maybe India see more in Lao Tzu
Than China, who knows? All time
Kliste dead more’n six hundred year,
And no body say much bout Kliste,
And China goin’ to hell, as Salvation Army say,
Alle time.

Kliste dead six hundred year,
Salvation Army come to England,
And baptize everybody; but China no hear.
Kliste dead eighteen hundred year,
England come to China for Kliste and opium--
Make nice dreams--what you care
’Bout Budda, Kliste--Smoke? Eh?

ULYSSES

Settled to evenings before the doorway
With Telemachus, who sat at his knee,
“Why did you stay so long from Ithaca,
Leaving my mother Penelope?”

The eyes of the hero rolled and wandered,
Thinking of Scylla and Sicily.
“That’s a hard question,” answered Ulysses,
“Harder, if answered, for you to see.

“There was the Cyclops, there was Æolus,
There were the Sirens, and Hades for me;
Apollo’s oxen, Hades’ horrors,
Circe, and then Ogygia.

“All these after the war, Telemachus--
Too long a tale, as you will agree.
The bards must write it, when you are older
Read till the gray hairs give you the key

“Of the wonder and richness that were your father’s
Life in the war, the long way home.
No man has lived, as I, Telemachus,
None ever will live in the days to come
“A life that followed the paths and hollows
Of Time, the wayward ways of the streams
That flow round earth, the winds and waters
Of passion, wisdom, thought and dreams.

“There are two things, my boy, and only
Two in the world, remember this:
One thing is men, the other women,
And after the two of them nothing is.

“I have known men as king and warrior,
Known them as liegmen, spears of the line.
Good enough lamps for workaday darkness--
They are not food, they are not wine;

“They are not heat that stir the secret
Core of the seed of a man, be sure.
And I, Ulysses, needed the planets,
And suns of the spring to live, mature.”

“What do you mean?” asked Telemachus,
“And, say is it true you lost eight years
Away from Ithaca, me and my mother
Because of a certain Calypso’s tears?”

The eyes of the hero rolled and wandered.
“There now, my boy, you have the truth.
I’ll try to tell you perhaps you’ll get it
In spite of your filial love and your youth.

“First, understand there are two things only;--
One is women, the other men.
And men I knew before and at Troyland,
And searched their hearts again and again.

“What do you get? Secrets of cunning,
Cruelty, strength, and much that you use
In the battle with them; but what’s a woman?
She is the mother, she is the Muse

“That leads and lifts to life--Telemachus
How can I tell you?--have a care!
Young men seize on the words of wisdom,
And find their hands in a silken snare,

“Hearing blindly, seeing literally,
What is a sword, a lamp, a shield?
Touch and learn, the name is only
The shell wherein the thing is concealed.”

“What do you mean?” asked Telemachus.
“What do I mean? Attend to me!
I’ll try to tell you, telling a story
Of the island called Ogygia.

“I know women--how shall I tell you?
Women are good, and good is wine.
Yet how to tell the wine and women
That turn her adorers into swine.

“You must have aid of Hermes, swiftness
Of spirit and sense to tell them apart;
How to be strong, how to be tender,
How to surrender and keep your heart.

“Easy for me to baffle Circe,
Easy the Sirens to slip--just wax!
I steered for Ithaca, you and your mother,
Isle to isle on the ocean’s tracks,

“Until I came and saw Calypso.
Son you would be with Calypso yet.
It takes a hero suppled in flame
To see Calypso, and leave, forget

Face and voice enough to leave her,
Spurn her promises, turn from her tears,
Come to Ithaca with this doorway,
Age that hovers, the little years.”

“What do you mean?” asked Telemachus.
“Live and learn,” Ulysses replied.
“Calypso promised me youth eternal
If I would stay and make her my bride.”

“And why not stay?” asked Telemachus
“To have her for wife, if not a youth
Eternal given you?” “Boy of me listen
Now for the core of the deepest truth:

“We dined in grottoes of blooming ivy;
We supped in halls of cedar and gold;
We slept on balconies, sapphire tented--
But even I found this growing old.

“I saw her beauty bare by star light,
And by the sea in the sun, and stoled
In silk as white as snow on Parnassus--
But even I found this growing old.

“Her tresses smelt of the blooms of Hymettus,
Her breasts were cymbals sweet to behold;
Her voice was a harp of pearl and silver--
But even I found this growing old.

“Her Lips were like the flame of a taper
Scented and musical, as she would fold
White arms over the brawn of my shoulders--
But even I found this growing old.

“She promised me this and youth forever,
So long as the sun and the planets rolled.
I knew they were gifts she could not give me,
Empty promises too grow old.

“And even if given, why forever
Live the things that have grown enough?
She loved me, wonderful Calypso.
But what is love? It is only love.

“And the salt of a man turns to his doorway,
He makes his will for his blood at the end.
My boy, that’s why I left Calypso
And came to you--do you comprehend?

“To sit unshorn, and clothed as I choose,
Talk with the swineherd, potter or shirk,
Babble at ease, my boy, with your mother
Around the house at rest or at work.

“And you must not forget, Telemachus,
In order to have immortality
It had to be with Calypso--therefore
I came to you and Penelope,

“Who soon will leave me, at best, or else
I’ll leave you for the Isles of the Blest.
I find this doorway good, Telemachus,
As a place to dream and a place to rest.”

“I do not understand, Ulysses,
Father of me. At first the call
Of the blood, I thought, would hasten you homeward.
And now I wonder you came at all

“Here to Ithaca. What, my father,
Is here but my mother growing old;
Aged Lærtes, Telemachus--
What of Calypso’s hair of gold?

“What of the island, what of the feasting,
What of her kisses, were it I
I’d spurn eternal youth, as a mortal
Live with Calypso until I should die.”

“I have no doubt,” said the many minded
Great Ulysses. “It’s plain to see
You are a boy yet. When is supper?
Go ask your mother Penelope.”

THE PARTY

Our wishes not consulted whether
We chose to come, not even the hour,
Some would have asked for fairer weather
Than on a day of sun and shower.
No chance to choose! And some got wet,
Were sick and nervous while they stayed;
Others came in the sun, the debt
Of Fortune to them overpaid.
We all came ignorant, willy-nilly,
Pell mell, piebald, grave and silly,
Resistless to the party drawn,
Which had gone on and would go on
From dawn to night and night to dawn.
Though some, it seemed, had scarcely come
Before they left; and some at noon,
Or morning bade adieu. The moon
Saw others take departure home.
All talked about it as you would;
Esteemed it dull, over too soon,--
Bad, sad, or wearing, very good!