Vondel's Lucifer Part 12

"Before whose face The universe with its eternity Is but a mote, a moment poised in s.p.a.ce."

There

"Stand the hidden springs of life revealed, The wondrous mechanism from earth concealed.

There Nature's primal premises appear In simple grandeur, deep and crystal clear, Flowing from out the heart of boundless ocean Of the eternal Now. With rapt devotion A myriad ministering forces there await The summons of His awful eyes of fate, The mandates of His all-compelling voice."

Far, far below those empyrean vaults is Earth, with its pristine inhabitants. G.o.d and man--the Creator and the thing created, the First Cause and the last effect--are both judiciously only introduced into the drama by hearsay.

Deep in the vague immensity lies Chaos, the uninhabited, through which the vanquished rebels are to be hurled to their endless doom.

But the poet also takes us

"Where meteors glare and stormy glooms invest;"

as, leaving Elysium's fields of light, he views

"h.e.l.l's punishments and horrors dire, Its gulfs of woe and lakes of rayless fire, Where demons laugh and fiends and furies rage Round writhing victims whose parched tongues a.s.suage No cooling drops of hope."

Such is the grand perspective from the scene of this stupendous drama.

THE PEACEFUL JOYS OF PARADISE.

The play opens as softly as the opening strains of some grand oratorio.

The first act is largely descriptive, a picture of the beautiful serenity of Heaven and of the joys of Paradise.

Belzebub, the second devil, first comes on the scene, and, as he stands upon those "heights flushed in creation's morn," by means of a few words, vibrant with suggestion and of far-reaching import, he at once gives us the key to the opening situation, indicating the relative positions of the two chief personages of the drama--the ant.i.thesis of Lucifer and Adam.

Apollion has been sent below to gain some tidings of the new race of earth. With speedy wings he soars back through the blue crystalline and past the wondering spheres, bearing a golden bough laden with choice fruit, that apple sweet whose juice is wine of destiny. He is br.i.m.m.i.n.g with enthusiasm over the wonders that he has just witnessed.

Belzebub, who has been anxiously awaiting his return, listens intently to his glowing description of the beauty of Eden and its primal innocence, occasionally interrupting with exclamations of wonder.

Question after question suggests itself to his excited imagination. At first he is aflame with curiosity, then jealousy begins to tincture his ardor, and his admiration soon changes into mockery.

Apollion then describes the primeval pair and their unalloyed bliss, and confesses that in the delightful blaze of Eve's charms his snowy wings were singed. Indeed, to curb his increasing desire, he covered his eyes with both hands and wings. Even when G.o.dlike resolution had impelled him to return on high, he thrice turned back a lingering gaze towards the more than seraphic beauty of the first woman. Far sweeter than even the music of the spheres, those nightingales of s.p.a.ce, is this most beautiful note in the song of creation!

Indescribably delicate is his account of the joys of that first marriage:

"And then he kissed His bride and she her bridegroom--thus on joy Their nuptials fed, on feasts of fiery love, Better imagined far than told--a bliss Divine beyond all angel ken;"

adding, with exquisite pathos,

"How poor Our loneliness; for us no union sweet Of two-fold s.e.x--of maiden and of man-- Alas! how much of good we miss; we know No mate or happy marriage in a Heaven Devoid of woman."

With Belzebub, that mighty spirit severely masculine, it is the growing power of the new race that furnishes food for thought and ground for an ulterior motive. The prospect of human rivalry impresses him far more than the description of a happiness to which the s.e.xless angels must ever be strangers. His soul is keyed in a grander, more pa.s.sionless mood. Apollion, however, cannot forget this charming vision of idyllic joy. He repeats the same enchanting strain again and again. He even forgets to answer his chief's questions, and returns to the same fascinating theme in:

"Their life consists Alone in loving and in being loved-- One sweet, one mutual joy, by them indulged Perpetually, yet e'er unquenchable."

In this masterly manner the two controlling motives of the play, the envy of man's power, and the jealousy of human happiness, are seen to originate. The latter, however, is soon merged into the former, for Apollion, failing to elicit sympathy with his tenderer emotions, begins to sympathize with the more heroic mood of Belzebub, and even attempts to inflame it by artful suggestion.

The Archangel Gabriel, "The Herald from the towering Throne of Thrones,"

now approaches, with all the choristers of Heaven, to unfold the last divine decree.

From the mouth of his golden trumpet fall the silvery tones of peace.

With jubilant tongue he praises the glorious attributes of the Deity and the boundless beneficence of the G.o.dhead. In yet grander strain he prophesies the ascent of man,

"Who shall mount up by the stairway of the world, The firmament of beatific light Within, into the ne'er-created glow:"

and foretells the future incarnation of the Son of G.o.d, who, "on his high seat in his unshadowed Realm," shall judge both men and angels.

Here the chorus, after the manner of the antique drama, bursts into a line of pious affirmation. Gabriel then continues his address in a sterner tone. Obedience to the divine command, and honor to the new race is henceforth the bounden duty of the angelic hosts. Then follows a description of the three hierarchies of Heaven, founded upon the doctrine of the Church Fathers, ending with an eloquent iteration of the divine command. As yet all is serene. Even those spirits who soon shall unfurl the black banner of rebellion in that "virgin realm of peace" are yet unaware that within their b.r.e.a.s.t.s slumbers a pa.s.sion that, awaking, will fill those holy courts with the tumultuous discord of revolt.

The ringing echoes of Gabriel's clarion trumpet have scarcely died away, when, throughout the clear hyaline, millions of angelic choristers burst into that sublime hymn of praise--that "anthem sung to harps of gold "--the grandest ever penned:

"Who is it on His Throne, high-seated?"

Triumphant songs and glad hosannahs now float down those "arching voids of empyrean stair." "All that pleaseth G.o.d is well" is the devout conclusion of this splendid outburst of celestial praise. Harmony re-echoes harmony; and with this glorious ode of jubilation the act comes to an end.

THE CLOUD OF CONSPIRACY.

In the second act, the protagonist first comes on the scene, like a G.o.d,

"With thunder shod, Crowned with the stars, and with the morning stoled."

He has until now been artfully kept in the background. Drawn by fire-winged cherubim, he sweeps into view, and voices, in no uncertain tone, his dissatisfaction with the divine decree.

Gabriel, the angel of revelation, is with admirable art now placed over against the Stadtholder. Lucifer would argue--would know the exact nature of Heaven's last decree. Gabriel, however, merely replies to his eager questioning with a dignified affirmation of G.o.d's command, and departs, leaving the divine injunction behind.

Belzebub, with untiring malignity, now prods the wounded pride of the fiery Stadtholder, and Lucifer again and again blazes into the most intense and bitter defiance. Listen to this speech, seething with the soul of rebellion:

"Now swear I by my crown upon this chance To venture all, to raise my seat amid The firmament, the spheres, the splendor of The stars above. The Heaven of Heavens shall then My palace be; the rainbow be my throne; The starry vast, my court; while down beneath, The Earth shall be my foot-stool and support; I shall, then swiftly drawn through air and light, High-seated on a chariot of cloud, With lightning-stroke and thunder grind to dust Whate'er above, around, below doth us Oppose, were it G.o.d's Marshal grand himself; Yea, e'er we yield, these empyrean vaults, Proud in their towering masonry, shall burst, With all their airy arches, and dissolve Before our eyes; this huge and joint-racked earth Like a misshapen monster lifeless lie; This wondrous universe to chaos fall, And to its primal desolation change.

Who dares, who dares defy great Lucifer?"

Surely the spirit of revolt never found fiercer and more poetical expression! Surely more eloquent and stupendous daring was never uttered than the blasting fulminations of this celestial rebel, who now stands, like a colossus of evil in the realm of good!

The leaders of the conspiracy then meet together and hatch their deep, nefarious plot. Lucifer towers magnificent, the controlling spirit in every plan, full of impelling thought and of tremendous action.

Apollion, that "master wit with craftiness the spirits to seduce," and Belial, whose "countenance, smooth-varnished with dissimulation's hue,"

knows no superior in deception, at Lucifer's command now sow the seeds of dissension broadcast throughout the Heavens. The dialogue between these two celestial rogues shows great dramatic skill, and abounds in subtleties worthy of the chief himself. Their whole plan seems to be:

"Through something specious, 'neath some seeming guised,"

to win first the various chiefs and then the bravest warriors to the standard of the Morning-star; and then with these

"For all eternity Mankind to lock without the gate of Heaven."

A high-sounding resolve,