by Edgar Quinet
ROME, to Ahasuerus
Go away! I don’t know you. Don’t climb my steps.
BABYLON, to Ahasuerus
Further on, accused! Don’t cross my threshold.
ATHENS, to Ahasuerus
Further on! Further on! Don’t touch my marble.
THE PATH
March elsewhere than on my trail.
THE MOUNTAIN
I was your lord, Ahasuerus; I shall make your Calvary at the summit of all my worlds, in order that you will be climbing for longer.
THE FORESTS
And I, for the cross you are to bear, will choose all the heaviest cedars I can find in a wood in Carmel.
THE RIVERS
And I shall change all my waters to hyssop, to give to you to drink.
MOB, to Ahasuerus
Let them speak; I’m with you. They envy you my company. See here, in the crowd, your aged parents, who are looking at you, and your brothers, who are talking to you. Listen.
JOEL, Ahasuerus’ brother
O, my brother, where have you come from, with no tribe, all alone, after the dead? Oh, how long your beard is, and how worn your sandals are. A woman is following you, as a spirit follows every man in life. What have you done? The forest of Carmel was large and dense; is that where you got lost? The grotto of Calvary was dark, the rock was carved for Jesus’ sepulcher; is that where you went to sleep in your dream? We’ve brought nothing from our life except out desert pitchers. Take this and drink, to give you courage.
AHASUERUS
Thank you, my brothers. Tell me, who is the old man asleep on that stone bench, whom I went past and to whom I cannot go back?
JOEL
On that bench? That’s our father Nathan, who’s asleep. Once every hundred years he wakes up to ask where you are; then he closes his eyes again and leans his head on his elbow. The angels of judgment weren’t able to wake him. But look—he’s raising his head now.
NATHAN, shaking his head
Has Ahasuerus come?
ROME
Go back to sleep, old man; why did you send him to Calvary this morning?
NATHAN
Has Ahasuerus come? Tell me where he is.
ATHENS
Are you mad, old man? Why didn’t you look after him better in your house?
NATHAN
And you, do you know when he’ll come?
PEOPLE OF THE MIDDLE AGES
Get up, blind old man, if you want to; you can see him judged.
AHASUERUS, to Rachel
We’ve gone past all the dead; we only have the bare mountain to climb. Oh, their voices are harsh to hear! Stay with them. They don’t know you; you’ll find some fragment of a wall to hide you.
RACHEL
No, it’s beneath your cloak that I want to hide.
AHASUERUS
Their eyes, which are cursing us, are visible from here.
RACHEL
Don’t look down; look up higher, higher still! Can you see the angels weeping? They feel pity for us!
AHASUERUS
When I look up, I can see the hem of a blue tunic, like the one the soldiers tore up at my door. I can’t go any higher; let me go back down.
RACHEL
Keep going! Keep going! Lean on my shoulder. Oh, look up! Can’t you see the spirits and angels fluttering their wings? Tell him, tell him—my God, can’t you see them?
AHASUERUS
No! I can’t see anything on the summit but a wooden cross with bronze nails, awaiting a damned man. If there’s a path here, let’s take it to retrace our steps.
RACHEL
Have the tears blinded you, that you still don’t recognize the patriarchs on the summit, who are already pointing at us? and the Virgin Mary imploring forgiveness for us with her hands joined—can’t you see her robe beneath the cloud?
AHASUERUS
A burden is weighing upon my head; my heart is too heavy in my breast; it’s bending me toward the ground.
RACHEL
Let me wipe away your bloody tears with the veil of Saint Veronica, still moist with Christ’s tears. You’re nearing the summit. Little angels, whom I once led by the hand in the city of Heaven, don’t you know me? Stars that I sowed, rays of light that I spun, dragons that I fed every morning on your clouds, have you nothing to say for him? You haven’t met him, as I have: Oh, you’d take pity on him; you’d shout, with me: Forgive! Forgive!
XII.
Heaven and Hell
HELL, to Heaven
Heaven, bend down. I can’t do any more. A moment to draw breath; let’s chat.
HEAVEN
I’m touching your gulf; I can hear you.
HELL
Before passing sentence on me, look into your plain. Who can you see coming to my rescue?
HEAVEN
I can see my suns shining again; I can see my abyss hollowing out.
HELL
And now?
HEAVEN
I can see my waves massing, and a star drowning.
HELL
And now? Hurry up.
HEAVEN
I can see the dust stirred up on the road of infinity, as if by a horseman.
HELL
It’s a new God coming.
HEAVEN
I believe so.
HELL
I’m saved. Later, the last judgment will be set aside, and the judge will be judged.
XIII.
CHRIST, the judge
Can you hear me, Ahasuerus?
AHASUERUS
I’ve heard that voice before.
CHRIST
Look. Do you recognize me?
AHASUERUS
I’ve seen those blazing eyes before, and those lips, which said to me: “Be accursed!”
CHRIST
Where did you encounter me?
AHASUERUS
On Calvary, by my bench, in front of my door.
CHRIST
And who am I?
AHASUERUS
You’re my Lord.
CHRIST
Who has told you that?
AHASUERUS
My bench before my door, my tongue beneath my palate, my tears on my mat, and Rachel by my side.
CHRIST
What have you done since you left your house?
AHASUERUS
I’ve sought repose, and found the storm; I’ve sought shade, and found the sun; I’ve sought the road to my youth, and found the road to eternal dolor.
CHRIST
When you encountered a passer-by, what did you say to him?
AHASUERUS
If I encountered a passer-by, I said to him, while walking along my path: “I’m a traveler who walks days and night through the city of humankind, without finding any bench or table at which to sit down. The peoples are at their windows; the kings are on their balconies; the street stretches beneath my footsteps. On the river of tears, the boatmen carry the years away in black gondolas. Blazoned lions roar in the night at the crossroads; crowned eagles screech on their escutcheons. God no longer lights the lamp hung on the wall. I’m lost. Tell me which way to go, and the best hostelry, in order to find a table for my hunger, and a silken bed in which to go to sleep.”
CHRIST
And when you found a city, what did you say?
AHASUERUS
I said to the guards on the towers: “I’ve seen too many towers and castles and balconies suspended from windows. I know only too well, on coming in, how bitter the bread here is, how hard the bed, and that my heart will drink its wine of tears and bile from my glass here. Open the door for me, if the bolt has been shot; if the drawbridge has been raised, lower it, I beg you. This is not the city I seek. The city in which I want to dwell has eternal walls. The wheels of chariots trace infinite circles there. The blacksmiths strike eternal stars from their anvils there. The angels are leaning over their golden crenellations there. The bridges there are made of clouds. No, this is not its drawbridge there, nor its watchman, nor its t
urrets. Another day to arrive before nightfall beneath its walls.”
CHRIST
And when you went into a hostelry, what did you say to the landlord?
AHASUERUS
I said to him: “My host, take your wine back to your cellar. It’s salty on my palate, as if I were drinking tears. The wine I seek doesn’t dry up in its skin, and its glass has no rim; look further in the depths of your cellar. Take back your bed, too, and your fine silk curtains. One can’t sleep here. On the bed that I seek in my hostelry, all the dreams are true, the dreams are life; and the curtains that my bed requires will dress me in their darkness, until the new morning of the world.
CHRIST
I have sent you to Calvary after me to collect, in every place, what remains of dolor in the world. Are you quite sure that you have drunk it all?
AHASUERUS
With one glance, you have filled my eyes with eternal tears. I have already shed my tears in the night that I have lived. You had left me as a heritage a cup always full of bile. Rachel, drinking her share, emptied it with me this morning. If you want me to recommence my path, oh, give me more tears in my eyes and ore bile in my cup. With your hands you have attached an aureole to my head, not of light but of mourning, darkness and obscure cares. That is my diadem; when kings encountered me, they made way for me, murmuring to one another: “Have you seen him? Truly, our crowns, of diamond and sapphire, are not as heavy, nor so firmly attached to our heads as his black crown. When the waves cursed me in my boat, the storm on my path, the sword in its sheath, the lightning above my head, they said to one another, in a whisper: “Be careful not to touch him, sine Christ’s fingers have touched him before us.”
CHRIST
The world will tell me whether you have left any pain behind. Valleys, peoples, mountains, is it true that no pain remains in the abyss that has not been collected?
THE UNIVERSE
All the dolor you have sown in my furrow has been harvested in due course. There was always someone beside me to drink my hemlock. Always, if my waves were livid, if my sky was veiled, if my flowers faded, there was a soul in the vicinity who faded and was veiled more so than my flowers or my sky. In the morning, I dipped my sponge in bile and vinegar; always someone pressed it to his lips by night to dry it out. When my dusk approached, I filled my table with poisoned fruit with deceitful rinds, and my glass with tears, to the brim. On seeing the feast, the gods went away; then the kings; and the people thereafter. Ahasuerus alone remained at the end of my empty table, like an insatiable companion who does not leave until morning.
CHRIST
Since you have finished the task I gave you, I shall give you back your house in the Orient. Do you want to go back there?
AHASUERUS
Oh! No, Lord.
CHRIST
What would you like?
AHASUERUS
Neither here nor there can I sit down any longer. I ask for life, not rest. Instead of the steps of my house on Calvary, I should like to climb the steps of the universe, without pausing, to reach you. Without drawing breath, I should like to whiten my shoes with the dust of stars, climbing, always climbing, from world to world, from heaven to heaven, without ever coming down again, in order to see the source from which you brought forth the centuries and the years. I should like, as I knocked on the thresholds of hostelries in Spain and Germany, always knock at unknown stars, at a new life, on thresholds standing ajar to the end of Infinity and better skies.
CHRIST
Are you not exhausted by your first voyage?
AHASUERUS
Your hand, in rising over me, has already dried my sweat. Bless me, and I shall depart this evening toward the future worlds that you already inhabit.
CHRIST
But who would you like to go with you?
VOICES IN THE UNIVERSE
Not us. If you wish, we’ll trace our steps, but we can’t go any higher. Our waves, our wild mares and our tempests are weary.
RACHEL
Me, I will go with him; my heart is not weary.
THE UNIVERSE
A woman doomed me; a woman has saved me.
CHRIST
Yes, that voice has saved you, Ahasuerus. I bless you, pilgrim of worlds to come and second Adam, Give me back the burden of the earth’s dolors. Let your tread be light; the heavens will bless you, if the earth curses you. Carry in your hand, instead of your traveler’s staff, a palm of stars. The dew of the firmament shall nourish you better than a desert cistern. You shall clear the path for the universe that follows you. The angel who accompanies you shall not leave you. If you are tired, you shall sit down on my clouds. Go forth, from life to life, from world to world, from one divine city to another city; and when, after eternity, you arrive from circle to circle at the infinite summit to which all things go, to which souls, years, peoples and stars climb, you shall cry to the stars, the people and the universe, if they want to stop: “Climb, keep climbing, here it is.”
MOB
And me, Lord, must I also go with him? What shall I have for a wage?
CHRIST
You no longer have a scythe or a goad to hasten your horse. With one bound, go back down to earth. Draw in your wings there, and brood your oblivion for Eternity.
THE PEOPLES
Listen to the song of Ahasuerus, who is continuing his march.
AHASUERUS
1.
Adieu, Father; adieu, my brothers. Did you hear? The Lord has pardoned me. My journey is recommencing. How far away from me our paradise is, already! The road is paved with clouds. Oh, won’t you ever come here? The stars blossoming on their stems here are more beautiful than in your new city. Here the flower grows that embalms their route on its own. On its leaf is written: THE FUTURE. Will you never come after me to pick it? When I am at the summit of the world, I shall make a hermitage to watch for your arrival. My chapel will be painted the color of the sun, His roof will be azure; and I shall ring my bell, like thunder, to call to you from afar, if you go astray.
2.
Like the spire of a nave, when a church is finished, my song rises, in a point, to lick the skies. An eternal delirium flagellates my heart. I want to see what no eye has ever seen; I want to touch what no hand has touched; until death I want to love that which has no name. Beneath the underslung vault of the clouds, everything vexes me, everything embarrasses me. Against a passer-by, against a word, a memory, less than a sigh, my thought is bruised at every step. Beyond the universe, I shall go to seek a path on which to draw breath in my abyss.
3.
On my road the dust of suns rises up; on the wing, they catch their breath in the great shadow of tomorrow, which flees incessantly. The breathless universe is a sigh of infinity; it is a moment that comes and goes, staggering between two eternities. Every empire fills a world. The heavens pile up; their flood overflows in the immensity like wine in a cup. Every disinhabited emptiness is repopulated; every void is filled in, except for one single place, here in my heart, narrow, dark and imperceptible, scarcely big enough to hide a tear. Neither God, nor son of God, nor Christ, nor Angel, nor Creator, nor worlds are enough to fill it. Tomorrow, perhaps! That’s the whole of the mystery.
4.
All is ended; everything begins again. New skies unfurl. The may-tree of the universe has reflowered beneath the breath of a spring that has kissed neither coast nor bank. Mounted on carts that have not worn out their drivers not the feet of their horses, my hopes and my desires move a day ahead of me everywhere. Beneath their steps the road grows: further on, further on it’s necessary to go. The host who has laid a full table and a banquet for them dwells beyond eternity.
5.
An errant world beneath my feet is already crying out to me: Master, my traveling belt is worn out. The firmament knotted around me has come loose, and the void that dresses me is torn. Wait for me.” Further on, further on! I’m in a hurry. Nothing stops me. Nothing amuses me. When one star has broken its axle, another ha
s set up its chariot for me. When my excessively fast mare dies, another, even faster, has already put on its bit and saddle of light for me. Time passes, but tomorrow never arrives; and my feet will only rest, crossed one over the other, on the bench of infinity.
THE ETERNAL FATHER, to Christ
Ahasuerus is the eternal man. All the others resemble him.45 Your judgment of him will serve for them all. Now, our work is finished, and the mystery also. Our city is closed. Tomorrow, we shall create other worlds. Until that time, let’s both go and rest under a tree in our forest, in our eternity.
XIV.
A choir and orchestra of Archangels, sitting in a circle on the clouds
THE ARCHANGELS
Inflating our cheeks, let us finish this day with the universal harmony of our viols, our clarions, the organ, the lyre and all our other instruments. On high and down below, great and small, every star that scintillates is a note in our divine symphony, and the world is a scale that begins with Earth and Tears and ends with Heaven and Joy. Let us sound our trumpets.
