Satan Absolved: A Victorian Mystery

The Lord GodWhat tears be these, my Sons? What ails ye that ye weep?Speak, Shepherds of the flock! Ye that have cared my sheep,Ye that are charged with Man. Is it as this One saith?Is Satan then no liar who loudly witnessethMan’s ruin of the World?The Angel of Pity (coming forward)Lord, it is even soThy Earth is a lost force, Man’s lazar-house of woe,Undone by his lewd will. We may no longer strive.The evil hath prevailed. There is no soul aliveThat shall escape his greed. We spend our days in tearsMourning Thy world’s lost beauty in the night of years.All pity is departed. Each once happy thingThat on Thy fair Earth went, how fleet of foot or wing,How glorious in its strength, how wondrous in design,How royal in its raiment tinctured opaline,How rich in joyous life, the inheritor of formsAll noble, all of worth, which had survived the storms,The chances of decay in the World’s living plan,From the remote fair past when still ignoble ManOn his four foot-soles went and howled through the lone hillsIn moody bestial wrath, unclassed among Earth’s ills —Each one of them is doomed. From the deep Central SeasTo the white Poles, Man ruleth pitiless Lord of these,And daily he destroyeth. The great whales he drivethBeneath the northern ice, and quarter none he giveth,Who perish there of wounds in their huge agony.He presseth the white bear on the white frozen seaAnd slaughtereth for his pastime. The wise amorous sealHe flayeth big with young, the walrus cubs that kneelBut cannot turn his rage, alive he mangleth them,Leaveth in breathing heaps, outrooted branch and stem.In every land he slayeth. He hath new engines madeWhich no life may withstand, nor in the forest shadeNor in the sunlit plain, which wound all from afar,The timorous with the valiant, waging his false war,Coward, himself unseen. In pity, Lord, look downOn the blank widowed plains which he hath made his ownBy right of solitude. Where, Lord God, are they now,Thy glorious bison herds, Thy ariels white as snow,Thy antelopes in troops, the zebras of Thy plain?Behold their whitened bones on the dull track of men.Thy elephants, Lord, where? For ages thou didst buildTheir frames’ capacity, the hide which was their shieldNo thorn might pierce, no sting, no violent tooth assail,The tusks which were their levers, the lithe trunk their flail.Thou strengthenedst their deep brain. Thou madest them wise to knowAnd wiser to ignore, advised, deliberate, slow,Conscious of power supreme in right. The manifest tokenOf Thy high will on earth, Thy natural peace unbroken,Unbreakable by fear. For ages did they moveThus, kings of Thy deep forest swayed by only love.Where are they now, Lord God? A fugitive spent fewUsed as Man’s living targets by the ignoble crewWho boast their coward skill to plant the balls that fly.Thy work of all time spoiled, their only use to dieThat these sad clowns may laugh. Nay, Lord, we weep for Thee,And spend ourselves in tears for Thy marred majesty.Behold, Lord, what we bring – this last proof in our hands,Their latest fiendliest spoil from Thy fair tropic lands,The birds of all the Earth unwinged to deck the headsOf their unseemly women; plumage of such redsAs not the sunset hath, such purples as no throne,Not even in heaven, showeth, – hardly, Lord, Thine own;Such azures as the sea’s, such greens as are in SpringThe oak trees’ tenderest buds of watched-for blossoming,Such opalescent pearls as only in Thy skiesThe lunar bow revealeth to night’s sleep-tired eyes.Behold them, Lord of Beauty, Lord of Reverence,Lord of Compassion, Thou who meetest means to ends,Nor madest Thy world fair for less than Thine own fame,Behold Thy birds of joy lost, tortured, put to shameFor these vile strumpets’ whim. Arise, or cease to beJudge of the quick and dead! These dead wings cry to Thee!Arise, Lord, and avenge!The AngelsWe wait upon Thy word.

(The Lord God covereth His face.)

SatanThou hearest them, Lord God.The Lord GodGood Satan, I have heard.Thou art more just than I – alas, more just than I.The AngelsBehold the Lord God weepeth.The Angel of PityWhat eyes should be dryIf for a crime eyes weep? This crime transcendeth crime.And the Lord God hath pity – in His own good time.The Lord GodAlas, the time is late. I do repent Me soreThe wrong I did thee, Satan, in those griefs of yore.The wrong I did the Earth. Yet is EternityA long day for atonement. Thou thyself shalt beMy instrument here of wrath to purge this race of ManAnd cast him on Time’s dunghill, whence he first began.What, Angel, is thy counsel? Shall we unseal againThe fountains of the heavens, send our outpoured rain,And flood him with new waters? Shall it be by fire?Shall we embraize the earth in one vast funeral pyreBy impact of a star? let loose a sulphurous wind?Belch rocks from the Earth’s bowels? Shall we strike Man blindWith an unbearable light? Shall we so shake the hills,The plains, that he fall palsied, grind him in the millsOf a perpetual hail, importune him with snow,Scourge him with noise unceasing, or the glutinous flowOf a long pestilent stench? Speak, Satan, all thy thought,Thou who the traitor knowest. How may he be broughtBest to annihilation?SatanLord, by none of these,Thy floods, Thy flames, Thy storms were puerilities.He hath too large a cunning to be taken thus.He would outride Thy waves, outblast Thy sulphurousWinds with his counter-winds. He liveth on foul airAs on the breath of heaven. He hath nor thought nor careFor Thy worst lightning strokes, holding their principleRock-firm in his own hand. All natural powers fulfilHis brain’s omnipotence. He standeth at each pointArmed for defiant war in harness without joint.Though Thou shouldst break the Earth in twain he should not bend.Thou needest a force to aid Thee, an ally, a friend,A principle of good which shall outwit his guileWith true white guilelessness, his anger with a smile,His force with utter weakness. Only thus, Lord God,Shalt Thou regain Thy Earth, a purified abode,And rid it of the Human.The Lord GodAnd the means? Thy planNeedeth a new redemption.SatanAy, but not of Man.He is beyond redeeming, or Thy Son had diedNot wholly to this loss. Who would be crucifiedTo-day must choose another, a young fleshly form,Free from the simian taint, were it but flower or worm,Or limpet of the rock, or grieving nightingale,Wherein to preach his gospel. Yet should he prevail,If only for truth’s sake and that this latest lieShould be laid bare to shame, Time’s fraud, Humanity.Choose Thee an Angel, Lord; it were enough. Thy SonWas a price all too great even had the world been won.Nor can it be again. An Angel shall sufficeFor Thy new second sending, so Thou guide the choiceTo a more reasoned issue – so Thou leave MankindHenceforth to his sole ways as at his outset, blindTo all but his own lusts, untutored by Thy grace.This is the road, Lord God. I bow before Thy face.I make Thee my submission to do all Thy will,So Thou absolve and pardon.The Lord GodO incomparableGood servant, Satan, thou art absolved indeed.It was thy right to pardon thy God’s lack of heed,His wrath at thy wise counsel. Nay, thou shamest Me.Be thou absolved, good Angel, Ego absolvo teAb omnibus peccatis. Once more be it thy rightTo stand before God’s throne for ever in His sight,And trusted more than these. Speak, Satan, what thou wilt,All shall be granted thee, the glory with the guiltOf the Earth lost and won. Who is it thou wouldst sendAgent and messenger to work to this new end?What Angel of them all? I pledge thee My full faithIt shall be as thou wilt.SatanWho goeth must die the death,Since death is all life’s law, and taste of corporal pain.And whoso dieth must die, nor think to live again.The Lord GodShall it be Michael? Speak.SatanNay, Lord, nor Gabriel.They are Thy servants tried, who love Thy Heaven too well.Thou shalt not drive them forth to the wild wastes of Earth.What should they do, Lord God, with a terrestrial birth,With less than Thy long joys? Nay, rather choose Thee oneAlready marred with grief with Time’s disunion,One all too sad for Heaven, to whom EternityIs as a charge o’erspent, who hath no fear to die,But gladly would lie down and be for aye no more,The flotsam of Time’s waves upon Death’s outer shore,Forgotten and forgetting. Grant me, Lord God, this,In penance for the past, Death’s full forgetfulness.The Lord GodAnd thou wouldst be incarnate?SatanAs the least strong thing,The frailest, the most fond, an insect on the wind,Which shall prevail by love, by ignorance, by lackOf all that Man most trusteth to secure his back,To arm his hand with might. What Thy Son dreamed of ManWill I work out anew as some poor cateran,The weakest of the Earth, with only beauty’s powerAnd Thy good grace to aid, the creature of an hourToo fugitive for fight, too frail even far to fly,And at the hour’s end, Lord, to close my wings and die.Such were the new redemption.The Lord GodThou good angel! NayThe World were all unworthy such high price to pay.I will not have thee die.Satan’Tis not for the World’s sake,Lord God of Heaven and Earth, that I petition make,But for Thy justice foiled. It irketh me to knowThat I have tutored Man against Thee, to this woe,And given him sure success. Yet is the World’s self good,And I would prove it Thee, lest Man’s ingratitudeShould so affect all truth, all honour, all high faith,That Thou Thyself, Lord God, shouldst fall a prey to deathAnd leave him in dominion. What to me were HeavenWith this thought unappeased – even thus absolved, forgiven,Yet by myself condemned?The Lord GodAh, Satan. Thy old prideStill lingereth in the clefts. Yet art thou not deniedSince I have sworn thee faith. Go, thou good messengerAnd God’s peace go with thee. Ho! ye without! Give ear.Bow down to the Lord Satan, Our anointed priest,The new incarnate Word.The AngelsAll hail!Michael (aside)The Antichrist!