Your rest while such a storm is in your mind—
You may find something else.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Listen: there are two sorts of the unseen,
Two countries each from each removed as far
As the black dungeons of this castle are
From this green mountain and this golden sun.
And of the first, I say, we do not know;
But the other is beneath, where to and fro
Through echoing vaults continually chaos vast110
Works in the cellarage of the soul, and things exiled,
And foolish giants howling from the ancestral past
Wander, and overweening Hopes, and Fears too wild
For this slow-ripening universe; chimeras, ghosts,
And succubi and cruelties. You are2 more like,
Driven on by such a fury of desire, to strike
Those rocks than to make harbour on the happy coasts.
Wishing is perilous work.’
‘Go on,’ she said.
‘What more?’ the Bishop asked, and turned his head120
Slowly away; ‘What more is there to tell?’
‘You have described the downward journey well,
But of the realm of light, have you no word?’
‘Nothing but that which all mankind have heard.’
She turned away, she paced the floor,
She waited for the Bishop’s word no more.
And he looked down, and more than once he passed
His hand across his face, and then at last
Spoke gently, as a man in much distress.
‘Daughter,’ he said, ‘I see I must confess.130
God knows I am an old, fat, sleek divine
—Lived easily all my life—far deeper skilled
In nice discriminations of old wine
Than in those things for which God’s blood was spilled.
Enough of that. And now my punishment
Has found me and my time of grace is spent;
For now I must speak truth and find at need
My advocacy kills the cause I plead.
For if I say none knows, no man is sure
Of anything about that land, your eyes,140
Seeing me thus world-ridden, thus impure,
How can they, if they would, judge otherwise
Than that my disallegiance from the laws
Of Spirit has dulled my edge and been the cause
Of this great ignorance I profess? How, then,
Believe me when I teach that holiest men
Are not less ignorant? (So I think, but I—
What do I know of saints or sanctity?)
But so I think; and so perforce I come
Into the court, though shamed, not daring to be dumb.150
Hear, then, my tale.
I, who stand ignorant confessed,
Doctor of nescience, or, at best,
A plodding passman in the school
Meek Wonder and her maidens rule,
Who hold the brave world’s blue and green
But for a magic-lantern screen
That enigmatically shows
The shadow of what no one knows;—
I yet believe (if such a word160
Of these soiled lips be not absurd)
That from the place beyond all ken
One only Word has come to men,
And was incarnate and had hands
And feet and walked in earthly lands
And died, and rose. And nothing more
Will come or ever came before
With certainty. And to obey
Is better than the hard assay
Of piercing anywhere besides170
This mortal veil, which haply hides
Some insupportable abyss
Of bodiless light and burning bliss.
Hence, if you ask me of the way
Yonder, what can I do but say
Over again (as God’s own Son
Seems principally to have done)
The lessons of your nurse and mother?
For all my counsel is no other
Than this, now given at bitterest need;180
—Go, learn your catechism and creed.
Mark what I say, not how I live,
And for myself—may God forgive.’
‘I thought as much,’ she cried. ‘That pale,
Numbing, inevitable tale,
The deathbed of desire! Why do you cease?
Preach out your sermon, tell me now of peace
Of passions calmed with grey renunciation,
Longsuffering and obedience and salvation!
What is all this to me? Where is my home190
Save where the immortals in their exultation,
Moon-led, their holy hills forever roam?
What is to me your sanctity, grave-clothed in white,
Cold as an altar, pale as altar candle light?
Not to such purpose was the plucking at my heart
Wherever beauty called me into lonely places,
Where dark Remembrance haunts me with eternal smart,
Remembrance, the unmerciful, the well of love,
Recalling the far dances, the far-distant faces,
Whispering me “What does this—and this—remind you of?”200
How can I cease from knocking or forget to watch—’
But other fingers now were on the latch
And with a swaggering stride a noisy, thin,
Hurried, portentous person had come in.
‘Madam,’ he squeaked, ‘I’ve come to let you know
The Leader calls for both of you below.’
Anger so stopped her heart and held her eyes
That, staring hard, she could not recognise
That pale face twisted with the uneasy thirst
Of looking more than even now it durst,210
Hinting the tavern glance en mousquetaire
Yet flinching, too, beneath her silent stare.
At last she knew—the ill-mannered boy, the same
Who at the council had bemired her name,
And at the door behind him she could see
Men with fixed bayonets standing, two or three.
And then she laughed—unsummoned laughter, light
And careless from the immeasurable height
Of unflawed youth, and said ‘What madness now?’
It was a world to see his reddening brow220
And watch his venom’d fingers how they twist.
‘Oh very fine! But that’s all done,’ he hissed.
‘And I’m no more your very humble dog.
Trust me, my lady, we have killed King Log
Under whose reign the license of your tongue
Has ladied it and laughed at us so long.
We have a Leader now, and you’ve a master.
Don’t ask me who! You’ll learn the story faster
Than you desire, perhaps: and you’ll have leisure
To learn your duties and the Leader’s pleasure.230
For it’s a new world now—and back to Drum
The days of our great ancestors are come.
The seven isles will tremble to the core,
And Terebinthia, when we go to war.
You shall behold the Leader when he comes
Riding the foremost of a thousand chargers
All white as milk, a conqueror, home to Drum,
Laden with pearls of Tessaropolis
And gold of Galma,3 while in silver chains
The Emperor of the East attends his state240
And Kings enslaved and many a captive isle.
Oh brave to be a Duce! brave to drink
The melted pearls of Tessaropolis
And burn the towers of many a captive isle
And to be called a Duce . . . but, meanwhile,
For both of you the Leader waits below.’
And steel was at their backs. They had to go.
CANTO IV
1
The Queen and the Archbishop and the Boy descend
Slowly by many stairways to the castle hall.
Often it seems a journey that will never end,
Often it seems a moment. They are silent all,
Thinking hard thoughts. The Bishop thinks them most of all.
For the Queen has heard a trumpet in her heart, and smiles;
She is buckling on her byrnie every step they go,
Ready to die or ready to use all her wiles
—Fierce Artemis will help her. She has learned to know,
Long since, those pains and pleasures which the hunted know.10
But he thinks how his Christendom is all to learn,
His soul to set and harden in the mould that makes
Eternal spirit, his leprosy to heal and turn
Fresh as the skin of childhood, in the time it takes
To reach the hall. (Incalculable time it takes;
The Watchers from beyond the world perceive each stair
Long with sidereal distances beyond all count,
A ladder of humility stretched up to where
The eternal forests tremble on the leaved mount
Of Paradise. Up thither they behold him mount.)20
They reached the bottom of the bottom stair and passed
Into the hall. The General stood here, so vast,
With legs astride, so planted, that he seemed to bear
The weight of the whole house upon his shoulders square.
His red, full blood grandiloquently in his cheek
Spoke so that you could almost say his body shouted
And was his garish blazon ere his tongue could speak,
Saying, ‘I am the leader, the event, the undoubted,
All-potent Fact, the firstborn of necessity,
I am Fate, and Force, and Führer, Worship me!’30
2
The General at the council-board had heard
The Queen’s harangue that day with scarce a word,
Indifferent first, and then amused, and then
Something within him in response had stirred.
All those nocturnal wanderings must be
A girlish dream, he thought, undoubtedly,
But if it came to dredging up one’s dreams,
Well—he’d had curious nights as well as she.
He did not share the popular dismay.
No; if she wanted dreams to walk by day,40
He was her man—only remained to see
If his or hers would bear the greater sway.
Perhaps, indeed, no conflict would arise;
The General thought he had a shrewd surmise
How hers would look when his experienced hand
Had eased them of their troublesome disguise.
For though this happened long before the name
Of Freud or his disciples rose to fame,
Men like the General, even then, had reached
(Empirically) doctrines much the same.50
When Council rose, about his work he went,
And warnings to his gunmen all he sent,
And seized a press and moved some troops. He’d missed
His dinner, but the time had been well spent.
And so it came to pass, at five o’clock
The Jailor of the dungeons turned his lock
To let the King and Chancellor in. And down,
Singing, they went into the tunnelled rock.
At five past, he was visited again
—This time the General and a dozen men.60
He clicked his heels. ‘How many entrances,’
The General asked, ‘lead down into that den?’
‘Only this one, your honour,’ he replied.
‘Good!’ said the General, plucking from his side
His bunch of keys. And to his men, ‘Now boys,’
He said. They kicked the Jailor down inside.
They slammed and locked the door and turned away.
Inside, the Jailor heard the General say
‘The keys? Oh throw them in the well. The fools
Chose to go down. I choose that they can stay.’70
And soon the castle was extremely still,
For all were killed whom they proposed to kill.
Servants with ashen face and hair on end
Came scampering at a call to do his will.
He said he liked his victuals with some taste;
He’d have a two-pint jug of porter, laced
With brandy, hot as hell, and devilled bones
And good strong cheese. And it was brought in haste.
He shovelled all these things inside his head,
And smacked his lips (large lips, and moist and red),80
And belched a little, tapping with his whip
His booted calves. ‘Now for the girl!’ he said.
3
The Bishop and the Queen arrived. He said,
‘Madam, the King is both deposed and dead.
The Why and Wherefore of it’s long to hear,
And politics are not a woman’s sphere.
The King is dead—and your bereavement such
As you can bear without lamenting much
. . . Why! it’s mere nature. If I made pretence
Of sympathy, it would insult your sense,90
Aye, and your senses too—which never yet
Had anything from him you need regret.
Now listen—for you’re neither prude nor dunce
And I can tell you my whole mind at once;
First, let me make it absolutely clear
That nobody has anything to fear
From me—provided that I get my way.
I’m always nice to people who obey,
Specially girls: and if you are kind to me
I will repay it double. Try! and see100
How much more rich, more splendid and more gay
Your court will be than in the old King’s day.
As for myself, I am not young, it’s true,
At least, my dear, not quite so young as you;
But young at heart—and our blunt soldiers say
Old fiddles often are the best to play.
I’m not a jealous man: I’ll leave you free
Except in one thing only. There must be
All that I most explicitly condemn . . .110
It’s nonsense too. Henceforth you must confine
Your limbs to bed o’nights—and that bed mine!’
No one could feel the quick of the Queen’s heart
Except the Queen, and she had learned her part.
Just long enough she cast her look aside
And fluttered, then with silver voice replied,
‘As for our consort, doubtless soon or late
The elderly must pay their debts to fate,
And young wives are aware they must submit
To widowhood—indeed they count on it.120
Enough: the future is our chief concern.
Surely your Lordship has not now to learn
That his heroic deeds are eloquence
In female ears, admitting no defence.
In all ways irresistible you come,
Conqueror of things unconquered yet in Drum!
If I should play the girl and hang my head,
It would but show me rustic and ill-bred;
Yet, if I might demur, this time and place
Are hardly suitable in such a case.130
These your heroic followers;—I am proud
To welcome them—but still, they make a crowd,
Nor can my answer be so full and clear
As your high dignity deserves—not here.
In Paphos, Sir, not midst the watchful stars
Of public heaven, does Venus welcome Mars;
And, by your leave withdrawn into my tower,
I will await the Leade
r’s private hour.’
‘Come!’ said the General, ‘That’s the sort of stuff!
Perhaps my methods were a trifle rough.140
I am a plain, blunt soldier, as no doubt
You saw: but you have kindly helped me out.
Go to your tower, and I’ll be there at six
But (in your ear, my lady) play no tricks!
Women are changeable! eh? no offence
But you shall have an escort with you hence.
Here! You!’ (He called the raw-boned boy, whose name
I cannot give, for it is lost to fame)
‘Go, follow to her bower the Queen of Drum,
And keep your eye upon her till I come.150
If she escapes, you’d better face the devil
Than me: but if she finds you are uncivil,
By heaven I’ll make you the first precedent
For eunuchs in my court. Now go!’
They went.
4
The Leader takes a turn and rubs his hands,
Chuckling and murmuring ‘Who’d have thought it now?’
And then he comes where the Archbishop stands
And pulls the old man to him by the sleeve
Into a window, with a graver brow160
Politically furrowed. ‘I believe
We know each other pretty well,’ said he,
‘Experienced people seldom disagree.
You see there’s been a change. I’m called to fill
The supreme office, by the people’s will
Or, strictly, what the people will discover
To have been their will when all the shouting’s over.
Now, in this new regime, of course your Grace
Must certainly retain his present place
And power and temporalities. Indeed,170
If I might criticise, we rather need
Not less but more of what you represent;
For up till now—pray, take this as it’s meant,
Kindly—a certain somnolence has come
To be the hall mark of the Church of Drum,
For several years. Henceforward that won’t do;
And naturally I rely on you.
Faith—martyrdom—and all that side of things
Concerns Dictators even more than Kings.
Can you contrive a really hot revival,180
A state religion that allows no rival?
You understand, henceforth it’s got to be
A Drummian kind of Christianity—
A good old Drummian god who has always some
Peculiar purpose up His sleeve for Drum,
Something that makes the increase of our trade
And territories feel like a Crusade,
Or, even if neither should in fact increase,
Teaches men in my will to find their peace.
Those are the general principles. But now190
The problem is (and you must show me how)