University of Virginia Library

Search this document 

77

MARTYRS OF HISTORY.

Fourth Series.


79

XXI. HERCULES.

NONE stronglier stirs in me than Hercules
The sorrowing sense; the hero Heaven-born,
Strong as the sun and radiant as the morn,
Who, for pure pity's sake, forswore all ease
And in the untravelled lands, the trackless seas,
Wearied life-long to succour folk forlorn,
To strip Life's rose of Ill's relentless thorn
And lead the light back to its sunless leas.
Yet the ill conquered: through his arteries stole
The venom of the incurable woes of earth,
Till, for the purging of his poisoned soul,
He gave his glorious body to the pyre
And on the purifying wings of fire,
Passed to that Heaven wherefrom he had his birth.

XXII. PILATE.

“WHAT” Pilate asked, “is Truth?” nor asked in jest,
As the light world with fleering Bacon deems,

80

Nay, but in saddest earnestness, meseems.
Forsooth, in time of trouble and unrest,

81

When with pretenders to the high behest
Prophetic, like the Nazarene, life teems
And each himself and his fantastic dreams
The only truth to proffer doth protest,
Yet nought but bare assertion and abuse
Of speech for demonstration can adduce,
The impartial spirit, seeking right and ruth
To practise, tangled in a maze confused
Of fraud and verbiage, well may be excused
If, in despair, it question “What is Truth?”
 

“What is Truth? said jesting Pilate and would not stay for an answer.” Bacon's Essays. It is evident that Bacon was not acquainted with (or ignored) the version of the dialogue between Pilate and Jesus given by the Gospel of Nicodemus (III, 10—14), as follows: “Jesus answered, “To this end was I born and for this end came I into the world and for this purpose I came, that I might bear witness to the Truth; and every one who is of the Truth heareth my word.” Pilate said to him, “What is Truth?” Jesus said, “Truth is from Heaven.” Pilate said, “Therefore Truth is not on earth.” And Jesus said to Pilate, “Believe that Truth is on Earth among those who, when they have the power of judgment, are governed by Truth and form right judgment.” (Which latter speech, by the way, to borrow the terminology of Schopenhauer, is a shameless piece of “windbaggery.”) It may be noted that the text of this passage shows manifest signs of sophistication, the clerical “editors” of prae-typographical days having almost certainly omitted the definite article in Pilate's speech (“What is Truth?”), with the object of giving the public to believe that the Roman Governor cynically questioned Truth in general, instead of simply enquiring (as was manifestly the case) the nature of the particular truth of which Jesus claimed to be the exclusive depository. Indeed, on reviewing the whole story of the dealings of Pilate with Jesus, even as set forth in the unscrupulously partisan statement of the ecclesiastical writers, and considering the shifty and sophistical character of Jesus's “fencing” answers to the Governor's manifestly well-meaning and kindly enquiries, it is difficult for an impartial reader, unbiassed by theological delusion, to help agreeing with Nietzsche (VIII, pp. 280—1) that Pilate is the one respectable (i. e. respectworthy) figure in the whole squalid melodrama of the Gospel narrative. “The aristocratic (or highbred, vornehm,) scorn,” continues the author of “Der Antichrist,” “of a Roman, before whom a shameless (or impudent) misuse of the word “Truth” had been practised, has enriched the New Testament with the one word that is of value, — a word that is its critique, nay, its nullification, — “What is Truth?”” It is evident, however, that Nietzsche also was unacquainted with the version of the Gospel of Nicodemus, which throws quite a new light on the question. That of John is evidently the same version, truncated for ecclesiastical purposes, after the fashion of the Fathers of the Church.

XXIV. GUATEMOZIN.

THOUGHT rends the mists of History; and so,
The curtain of four centuries uprolled,
Unveils to view a scene of sufferance old.
See, on a torture-bed of coals aglow,
Where the last Aztec emperor lies low,
His courtiers round him, suffering pains untold;
Whilst the fierce Spaniard, ravening for gold,
The embers stirs, to enhance his victims' woe.
Awhile they suffer all in silent pain,
Till one, his martyred patience at an end,
Uplifts his voice and groans; whereat, his eyes
Upon him turning with a mild disdain,
“And I,” in answer Guatemozin sighs,
“Am I, then, on a bed of roses, friend?”

XXV. CAROLUS MARTYR.

THY sad eyes greet us from the canvas here,
— Where Vandyke's art august did erst retrace
For us thy grave and melancholy grace,
Thy traits of dreamer and of cavalier,
Pale with the presage of a doom austere,
— As who should ask, “What did I in this place
Of sordid strife, White King, whose soul unbase
Was stainless as his coronation-gear?
Was I not apter, in Thought's orchard-close,
With Shakspeare sweet my days and nights to spend
Or with the Muse in converse rapt and lone,

83

Life's paltry joys to o'erpass and sordid woes,
Than in this slough of slanders to contend
With churl and traitor for a cheerless throne?”

XXVI. PRINCE RUPERT.

KNIGHT-ERRANT of a day, when war a game
Played for men's profit was and little sage
Was he accounted who for battle-gage
Vain loyalty ensued and fruitless fame,
Thy headlong valiance unto thee for blame
Imputed is of this our venal age
And thy high venturousness on history's page
Stands for a mockery and well-nigh a shame.
Yet of thy feats Fame, fabling, minstrel-wise,
Still, with the clarion of thy name, like wine,
Quickens their hearts who love of high emprise
To hear and great blows taken and given again,
For honour's sake, and death held in disdain,
Thy name altisonant, Rupert of the Rhine.

XXVII. MAXIMILIAN OF MEXICO.

FRIEND of the Muses, what unfriendly Fate
Sinister tore thee from thy studious ease
And to thy doom despatched thee overseas,
Without thy will, for service of the State,
There where foul treachery, asp-like, lay in wait,
On thee, high victim, for its prey to seize,
Nor, save thy shameful death, might aught appease
The lewd intriguer-mongrel's murderous hate?

84

Withal, in great things (as Propertius says)
Enough to have even willed 'tis; and the bays
The generous soul will not to him deny
Who, though, by others' fault, of his high aim
He failed, failed nobly in the front of fame
And for his failure nobly knew to die.

XXVIII. NAPOLEON THE THIRD.

NEVER, of Caesar Suetonius says,
Hurt unto any one endure might he
To do: and evenso it may of thee
Be said, sad second bearer of the bays,
Heir to Napoleon's name of overpraise.
Like Caesar, throne thou lost'st (and life, may be,)
For that thou sufferedst the rogue run free
And sett'st no hindrance in the intriguer's ways.
At least, the tardy tribute of a tear,
Magnanimous soul, hard driven of felon Fate,
We offer at thy grave and vain regret
That such as thou should lack the will austere
To crush the traitor and through Treason's net
Of reefs to steer the vessel of the State.

XXIX. PEDRO OF BRAZIL.

FATHER of his folk, wise, just and mild, the best
Of men and kings, what might his virtues weigh
Against the unwit of this our graceless day?
How should a man of heart for place contest
With the vile, vulturous peddlers in unrest?
How 'gainst the knaves that cheat the mob make way,

85

The rogues that stir the waters, so they may
Fish from the troubled tide their gain unblest?
A world of woes he bore and made no moan
Nor ever faltered from his constant cheer.
O thou that enterest this funereal space,
Put off thy shoes from off thy feet: the place
Is holy ground; for underneath this stone
Sleeps Pedro of Brazil, the modern Lear.

XXX. QUI CARENT VATE SACRO.

HOW many noble souls misfortune-marred
There be, to whom the Fates such rancour show
That they through grief to death not only go,
But for remembrance lack the sacred bard!
Such Fouquet, Favras, noble and ill-starred;
Such Bonchamps, Cadoudal, Cathélineau;
Such John de Witt and Swedish Charles e'enso,
The brave, the high, of Fortune followed hard;
Such Harold Godwinson and sweet Jane Grey;
Such Laud and Strafford, to the appointed goal
Their lord foregoing in the fated way:
To whom and many a fate-forsaken soul,
Martyred and mortified of traitor Time,
Thus late I consecrate this tribute rhyme.
 

For First, Second and Third Series, see my “Vigil and Vision” (1903), “Carol and Cadence” (1908) and “Flower o'the Thorn” (1909.)