Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society/III

"Age! Age and experience bring discouragement," You taunt me: I maintain the opposite. Am I discouraged who, — perceiving health. Strength, beauty, as they tempt the eye of soul, Are uncombinable with flesh and blood, — Resolve to let my body live its best, And leave my soul what better yet may be Or not be, in this life or afterward? — In either fortune, wiser than who waits Till magic art procure a miracle. In virtue of my very confidence Mankind ought to outgrow its babyhood, I prescribe rocking, deprecate rough hands, While thus the cradle holds it past mistake. Indeed, my task's the harder — equable Sustainment everywhere, all strain, no push — Whereby friends credit me with indolence, Apathy, hesitation. "Stand stock-still If able to move briskly? 'All a-strain' — So must we compliment your passiveness? Sound asleep, rather!"

Just the judgment passed Upon a statue, luckless like myself, I saw at Rome once! 'T was some artist's whim To cover all the accessories close I' the group, and leave you only Laocoön With neither sons nor serpents to denote The purpose of his gesture. Then a crowd Was called to try the question, criticize Wherefore such energy of legs and arms. Nay, eyeballs, starting from the socket. One — I give him leave to write my history — Only one said "I think the gesture strives Against some obstacle we cannot see." All the rest made their minds up. "'T is a yawn Of sheer fatigue subsiding to repose: The Statue's 'Somnolency' clear enough!" There, my arch stranger-friend, my audience both And arbitress, you have one half your wish, At least: you know the thing I tried to do! All, so far, to my praise and glory — all Told as befits the self-apologist, — Who ever promises a candid sweep And clearance of those errors miscalled crimes None knows more, none laments so much as he, And ever rises from confession, proved A god whose fault was — trying to be man. Just so, fair judge, — if I read smile aright — I condescend to figure in your eyes As biggest heart and best of Europe's friends, And hence my failure. God will estimate Success one day; and, in the mean time — you! I daresay there's some fancy of the sort Frolicking round this final puff I send To die up yonder in the ceiling-rose, — Some consolation-stakes, we losers win! A plague of the return to "I — I — I Did this, meant that, hoped, feared the other thing!" Autobiography, adieu! The rest Shall make amends, be pure blame, history And falsehood: not the ineffective truth, But Thiers-and-Victor-Hugo exercise. Hear what I never was, but might have been I' the better world where goes tobacco-smoke! Here lie the dozen volumes of my life: (Did I say "lie?" the pregnant word will serve.) Cut on to the concluding chapter, though! Because the little hours begin to strike. Hurry Thiers-Hugo to the labour's end!

Something like this the unwritten chapter reads.

Exemplify the situation thus! Hohenstiel-Schwangau, being, no dispute, Absolute mistress, chose the Assembly, first, To serve her: chose this man, its President Afterward, to serve also, — specially To see that they did service one and all. And now the proper term of years was out. When the Head-servant must vacate his place; And nothing lay so patent to the world As that his fellow-servants one and all Were — mildly make we mention — knaves or fools, Each of them with his purpose flourished full I' the face of you by word and impudence, Or filtered slyly out by nod and wink And nudge upon your sympathetic rib — That not one minute more did knave or fool Mean to keep faith and serve as he had sworn Hohenstiel-Schwangau, once that Head away. Why did such swear except to get the chance, When time should ripen and confusion bloom, Of putting Hohenstielers-Schwangauese To the true use of human property? Restoring souls and bodies, this to Pope, And that to King, that other to his planned Perfection of a Share-and-share-alike, That other still, to Empire absolute In shape of the Head-servant's very self Transformed to master whole and sole: each scheme Discussible, concede one circumstance — That each scheme's parent were, beside himself, Hohenstiel-Schwangau, not her serving-man Sworn to do service in the way she chose Rather than his way: way superlative, Only, — by some infatuation, — his And his and his and everyone's but hers Who stuck to just the Assembly and the Head. I niake no doubt the Head, too, had his dream Of doing sudden duty swift and sure On all that heap of untrustworthiness — Catching each vaunter of the villany He meant to perpetrate when time was ripe, Once the Head-servant fairly out of doors, — And, caging here a knave and there a fool, Cry "Mistress of the servants, these and me, Hohenstiel-Schwangau! I, their trusty Head, Pounce on a pretty scheme concocting here That's stopped, extinguished by my vigilance. Your property is safe again: but mark! Safe in these hands, not yours, who lavish trust Too lightly. Leave my hands their charge awhile! I know your business better than yourself: Let me alone about it! Some fine day, Once we are rid of the embarrassment, You shall look up and see your longings crowned!" Such fancy may have tempted to be false, But this man chose truth and was wiser so. He recognized that for great minds i' the world There is no trial like the appropriate one Of leaving little minds their liberty Of littleness to blunder on through life, Now, aiming at right end by foolish means. Now, at absurd achievement through the aid Of good and wise means: trial to acquiesce In folly's life-long privilege — though with power To do the little minds the good they need, Despite themselves, by just abolishing Their right to play the part and fill the place I' the scheme of things He schemed who made alike Great minds and little minds, saw use for each. Could the orb sweep those puny particles It just half-lights at distance, hardly leads I' the leash — sweep out each speck of them from space They anticize in with their days and nights And whirlings round and dancings off, forsooth, And all that fruitless individual life One cannot lend a beam to but they spoil — Sweep them into itself and so, one star, Preponderate henceforth i' the heritage Of heaven! No! in less senatorial phrase. The man endured to help, not save outright The multitude by substituting him For them, his knowledge, will and way, for God's: Not change the world, such as it is, and was And will be, for some other, suiting all Except the purpose of the maker. No! He saw that weakness, wickedness will be, And therefore should be: that the perfect man As we account perfection — at most pure 0' the special gold, whate'er the form it take, Head-work or heart-work, fined and thrice-refined I' the crucible of life, whereto the powers Of the refiner, one and all, were flung To feed the flame their utmost, — e'en that block. He holds out breathlessly triumphant, — breaks Into some poisonous ore, its opposite. At the very purest, so compensating The Adversary — what if we believe? For earlier stern exclusion of his stuff. See the sage, with the hunger for the truth, And see his system that's all true, except The one weak place that's stanchioned by a lie! The moralist, that walks with head erect I' the crystal clarity of air so long. Until a stumble, and the man's one mire! Philanthropy undoes the social knot With axe-edge, makes love room 'twixt head and trunk! Religion — but, enough, the thing's too clear! Well, if these sparks break out i' the greenest tree. Our topmost of performance, yours and mine, AVhat will be done i' the dry ineptitude Of ordinary mankind, Ipark and bole. All seems ashamed of but their mother-earth? Therefore throughout his term of servitude He did the appointed service, and forbore Extraneous action that were duty else, Done by some other servant, idle now Or mischievous: no matter, each his own — Own task, and, in the end, own praise or blame! He suffered them strut, prate and brag their best. Squabble at odds on every point save one, And there shake hands, — agree to trifle time, Obstruct advance with, each, his cricket-cry "Wait till the Head be off the shoulders here! Then comes my King, my Pope, my Autocrat, My Socialist Republic to her own — To-wit, that property of only me, Hohenstiel-Schwangau who conceits herself Free, forsooth, and expects I keep her so!" — Nay, suffered when, perceiving with dismay His silence paid no tribute to their noise, They turned on him. "Dumb menace in that mouth, Malice in that unstridulosity! He cannot but intend some stroke of state Shall signalize his passage into peace Out of the creaking, — hinder transference O' the Hohenstielers-Schwangauese to king. Pope, autocrat, or socialist republic! That's Exact the cause his lips unlocked would cry! Therefore be stirring: brave, beard, bully him! Dock, by the million, of its friendly joints, The electoral body short at once! who did, May do again, and undo us beside. Wrest from his hands the sword for self-defence, The right to parry any thrust in play We peradventure please to meditate!" And so forth; creak, creak, creak: and ne'er a line His locked mouth oped the wider, till at last O' the long degraded and insulting day, Sudden the clock told it was judgment-time. Then he addressed himself to speak indeed To the fools, not knaves: they saw him walk straight down Each step of the eminence, as he first engaged, And stand at last o' the level, — all he swore. "People, and not the people's varletry, This is the task you set myself and these! Thus I performed my part of it, and thus They thwarted me throughout, here, here, and here: Study each instance! yours the loss, not mine. What they intend now is demonstrable As plainly: here's such man, and here's such mode Of making you some other than the thing You, wisely or unwisely, choose to be, And only set him up to keep you so. Do you approve this? Yours the loss, not mine. Do you condemn it? There's a remedy. Take me — who know your mind, and mean your good, With clearer head and stouter arm than they, Or you, or haply anybody else — And make me master for the moment! Choose What time, what power you trust me with: I too Will choose as frankly ere I trust myself With time and power: they must be adequate To the end and aim, since mine the loss, with yours If means be wanting; once their worth approved, Grant them, and I shall forthwith operate — Ponder it well! — to the extremest stretch 0' the power you trust me: if with unsuccess, God wills it, and there's nobody to blame."

Whereon the people answered with a shout "The trusty one! no tricksters any more!" How could they other? He was in his place.

What followed? Just what he foresaw, what proved The soundness of both judgments, — his, o' the knaves And fools, each trickster with his dupe, — and theirs The people, in what head and arm should help. There was uprising, masks dropped, flags unfurled, Weapons outflourished in the wind, my faith! Heavily did he let his fist fall plumb On each perturber of the public peace, No matter whose the wagging head it broke — From bald-pate craft and greed and impudence Of night-hawk at first cliance to prowl and prey For glory and a little gain beside, Passing for eagle in the dusk of the age, — To florid head-top, foamy patriotism And tribunitial daring, breast laid bare Thro' confidence in rectitude, with hand On private pistol in the pocket: these And all the dupes of these, who lent themselves As dust and feather do, to help offence O' the wind that whirls them at you, then subsides In safety somewhere, leaving filth afloat, Annoyance you may brush from eyes and beard, — These he stopped: bade the wind's spite howl or whine Its worst outside the building, wind conceives Meant to be pulled together and become Its natural playground so. What foolishness Of dust or feather proved importunate And fell 'twixt thumb and finger, found them gripe To detriment of bulk and buoyancy. Then followed silence and submission. Next, The inevitable comment came on work And work's cost; he was censured as profuse Of human life and liberty: too swift And thorough his procedure, who had lagged At the outset, lost the opportunity Through timid scruples as to right and wrong. "There's no such certain mark of a small mind" (So did Sagacity explain the fault) "As when it needs must square away and sink To its own small dimensions, private scale Of right and wrong, — humanity i' the large, The right and wrong of the universe, forsooth! This man addressed himself to guard and guide Hohenstiel-Schwangau. When the case demands He frustrate villany in the egg, unhatched, With easy stamp and minimum of pang E'en to the punished reptile, 'There's my oath Restrains my foot,' objects our guide and guard, 'I must leave guardianship and guidance now: Rather than stretch one handbreadth of the law, I am bound to see it break from end to end. First show me death i' the body politic: Then prescribe pill and potion, what may please Hohenstiel-Schwangau! all is for her sake: 'T was she ordained my service should be so. What if the event demonstrate her unwise, If she unwill the thing she willed before? I hold to the letter and obey the bond And leave her to perdition loyally.' Whence followed thrice the expenditure we blame Of human life and liberty: for want O' the by-blow, came deliberate butcher's-work!" "Elsewhere go carry your complaint!" bade he. "Least, largest, there's one law for all the minds, Here or above: be true at any price! 'T is just o' the great scale, that such happy stroke Of falsehood would be found a failure. Truth Still stands unshaken at her base by me, Reigns paramount i' the world, for the large good O' the long late generations, — I and you Forgotten like this buried foohshness! Not so the good I rooted in its grave."

This is why he refused to break his oath, Rather appealed to the people, gained the power To act as he thought best, then used it, once For all, no matter what the consequence To knaves and fools. As thus began his sway, So, through its twenty years, one rule of right Sufficed him: govern for the many first, The poor mean multitude, all mouths and eyes: Bid the few, better favoured in the brain, Be patient, nor presume on privilege. Help him, or else be quiet, — never crave That he help them, — increase, forsooth, the gulf Yawning so terribly 'twixt mind and mind I' the world here, which his purpose was to block At bottom, were it by an inch, and bridge, If by a filament, no more, at top, Equalize things a little! And the way He took to work that purpose out, was plain Enough to intellect and honesty And — superstition, style it if you please, So long as you allow there was no lack O' the quality imperative in man — Reverence. You see deeper? thus saw he, And by the light he saw, must walk: how else Was he to do his part? the man's, with might And main, and not a faintest touch of fear Sure he was in the hand of God who comes Before and after, with a work to do Which no man helps nor hinders. Thus the man, So timid when the business was to touch The uncertain order of humanity, Imperil, for a problematic cure Of grievance on the surface, any good I' the deep of things, dim yet discernible — This same man, so irresolute before, Show him a true excrescence to cut sheer, A devil's-graft on God's foundation-stone, Then — no complaint of indecision more! He wrenched out the whole canker, root and branch, Deaf to who cried the world would tumble in At its four corners if he touched a twig. Witness that lie of lies, arch-infamy. When the Republic, with all life involved In just this law — "Each people rules itself Its own way, not as any stranger please" — Turned, and for first proof she was living, bade Hohenstiel-Schwangau fasten on the throat Of the first neighbour that claimed benefit O' the law herself established: "Hohenstiel For Hohenstielers! Rome, by parity Of reasoning, for Romans? That 's a jest Wants proper treatment, — lancet-puncture suits The proud flesh: Rome ape Hohenstiel forsooth!" And so the siege and slaughter and success Whereof we nothing doubt that Hohenstiel Will have to pay the price, in God's good time, Which does not always fall on Saturday When the world looks for wages. Any how. He found this infamy triumphant. Well, — Sagacity suggested, make this speech! "The work was none of mine: suppose wrong wait, Stand over for redressing? Mine for me, My predecessors' work on their own head! Meantime, there's plain advantage, should we leave Things as we find them. Keep Rome manacled Hand and foot: no fear of unruliness! Her foes consent to even seem our friends So long, no longer. Then, there's glory got I' the boldness and bravado to the world. The disconcerted world must grin and bear The old saucy writing, — 'Grunt thereat who may, So shall things be, for such my pleasure is — Hohenstiel-Schwangau.' How that reads in Rome I' the Capitol where Brennus broke his pate! And what a flourish for our journalists!"

Only, it was nor read nor flourished of, Since, not a moment did such glory stay Excision of the canker! Out it came, Root and branch, with much roaring, and some blood, And plentiful abuse of him from friend And foe. Who cared? Not Nature, that assuaged The pain and set the patient on his legs Promptly: the better! had it been the worse, 'T is Nature you must try conclusions with, Not he, since nursing canker kills the sick For certain, while to cut may cure, at least. "Ah," groaned a second time Sagacity, "Again the little mind, precipitate, Rash, rude, when even in the right, as here! The great mind knows the power of gentleness, Only tries force because persuasion fails. Had this man, by prelusive trumpet-blast, Signified 'Truth and Justice mean to come. Nay, fast approach your threshold! Ere they knock, See that the house be set in order, swept And garnished, windows shut, and doors thrown wide! The free State comes to visit the free Church: Receive her! or . . or . . never mind what else!' Thus moral suasion heralding brute force, How had he seen the old abuses die, And new life kindle here, there, everywhere. Roused simply by that mild yet potent spell — Beyond or beat of drum or stroke of sword — Public opinion!"

"How, indeed?" he asked, "When all to see, after some twenty years, Were your own fool-face waiting for the sight. Faced by as wide a grin from ear to ear O' the knaves that, while the fools were waiting, worked — Broke yet another generation's heart — Twenty years' respite helping! Teach your nurse 'Compliance with, before you suck, the teat!' Find what that means, and meanwhile hold your tongue!"

Whereof the war came which he knew must be.

Now, this had proved the dry-rot of the race He ruled o'er, that, in the old day, when was need They fought for their own liberty and life, Well did they fight, none better: whence, such love Of fighting somehow still for fighting's sake Against no matter whose the liberty And life, so long as self-conceit should crow And clap the wing, while justice sheathed her claw, — That what had been the glory of the world When thereby came the world's good, grew its plague Now that the champion-armour, donned to dare The dragon once, was clattered up and down Highway and by-path of the world at peace, Merely to mask marauding, or for sake O' the shine and rattle that apprized the fields Hohenstiel-Schwangau was a fighter yet. And would be, till the weary world suppressed A peccant humour out of fashion now. Accordingly the world spoke plain at last. Promised to punish who next played with fire.