The Hell of the Good:A Theological Epic in Six Books
A Theological Epic in Six Books
9781465533142
pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
BOOK ONE of the Dead A certain citizen of high renown For works of worth and justice in this town— A man of unrelenting rectitude, A pattern and a parable for the good— Died; and what ther he did and where he went Supplies the theme of this High Argument, His life had been a model for the throng. He had hated sin and sinners his life long, And most especially that entangling mesh That has to do with errors of the flesh, He had married, once, a cold and stupid dame Who viewed the loves of even the birds with shame; And of the horrors of their mutual bed, The better for mankind the less is said, He, finding intercourse thus a sorry evil, Believed it a concoction of the Devil; And with right honest will used tongue and pen To make sex loathsome to his fellow-men*, One night as he lay sleepless on his bed A sudden fearful pain shot through his head, And thought flashed black into a thunder-stroke… . Out of this darkness he at last awoke And heard a Voice speak, ominous and slow: Awake, arise, and walk; for we must go. Whither do ypu take me? he with wondering eyes Asked the invisible Speaker,— To the skies Where Heaven awaits me? Coldly the Voice said: Dismiss that foolish nonsense from your head. The Heavenly Courts of which your Prophets sung Are dwelt in by the beautiful and young, Who wander among Fields of Asphodel And lovely amorous secrets share and tell. But for the old-and-ugly-spirited Quite Other fate is all they merited In this world or the next. Soon you shall know. Awake, arise, and walk; for we must go. The Good Man bowed his head resignedly And followed to the street. There he could se^ The first cold grey of dawn across the sky, He heard the early milk-trucks bumping by; He saw the windows where his neighbors slept The sleep of just men, wise and law-adept. He—so it seemed to him—he, he alone In this vast city built of steel and stone, Where once as honored citizen he had lived, Prowled now—helpless, ghostly, and fugitived— Aimless and homeless, without power of choice, Guided but by a stern implacable Voice, At last the Voice said: Enter at this door! Bewildered he looked up, and saw it bore The name of a world-famed and vast hotel Within whose halls he often, and right well, Had lunched on steaks or ducks or subtle stews Of pigeon while he read the daily news Of marts and politics and wars and vice. He murmured; Well, it certainly is nice To see this, once again! With confident pace He enteted to the wide bright-lighted place Where bell-boys fluttering active to and fro Made the activity that he used to know. No luggage, sir? He in lugubrious tone Answered: I left in haste; I could bring none, Very well, sir; Please register. He stood Before the desk. The ink was red as blood, He wrote his name, The clerk smiled: Let me see— Hi give you Room Eight-million* Here’s your key, Glancing around him as he moved away He saw the lobby packed as at a play, The Voice said: Do not marvel at this sight: Did you think that you alone have died tonight? The heaviest registrations are at dawn, Many have come, more coming. Hasten on. The elevator shot up. At some floor It stopped. He walked the corridor to a door That opened to his key. Entering, his view Was charmed by furniture completely new And just like all the furniture which a rover Finds in all good hotels, the whole world over; Neat, bright, and tasteful; nothing worn or shoddy; An apartment for a prince, or anybody. The Voice said: We have come where we have come. This is your lodging; make yourself at home. He looked around him. Certainly his worth Had been well-judged by Him Who Rules The Earth: This good apartment lacked no luxury Needed to please the body or the eye. Here was a sitting-room of spacious stzt, Neat bed-room, bath—all of the privacies And comforts for an honest gentleman Who shall not lodge in earth’s hotels again. He thought: On earth, much vice in all such places Went on: adultery, blackmail, vile disgraces. But of such things there is no more to fear, Thanks to my Savior, now a| last I'm here. He strolled into the bath-room and there saw That, due to an inexorable law Governing dead-men in the grave, His mirrored face needed a morning shave. Opening the little mirror-door, he found A razor, brush, and soap, all by renowned American manufacturers. On this treasure He seized; and shaved, with hearty morning pleasure. The towel was still drying his countenance When through the window something caught his glance Not of good, portent. ?Twas a coppery smoke That flared and wavered, fluctuated, broke Into thin tendrils of snake-forking fire, While sheets of flame below leaped ever higher, He reached the door, much pleased with the composure With which he faced this perilous disclosure. He turned the handle, but it would not turn, He kicked the door: 'twas steel… And must I burn Here like a trapped rat on this upper floor Because some fool has locked this cursed door? And suddenly he was no more a man, But panic blood that through wild arteries ran. He shrieked, he caterwauled, he swore^ he wailed, While, thick outside the windows, fire-sparks hailed. He cursed his God, he cursed the city’s mayor, He called for firemen’s aid, he knelt in prayer; He saw the billowing coppery smoke soar by, And almost knew what twice it is to die. He flung the window open: far below He saw the curious crowd surge to atid fro As clanging trucks and engines, hideous red, Swept up; minute policemen, stationed ahead, Forced back the rabble who impeded ever The stupid slow incompetent endeavor Of firemen small as ants to stay this terror Of leaping flame that surged momently nearer. He was looking into a canyon, not his city. This was a gulf of horror, without pity For a poor wretch who drew his frightened breath. While chaos-waves of fire flickered beneath. Despairing, he looked up to where, across The street, no farther than a penny-toss, Were rows on rows of windows from which peered Hundreds of faces. And it seemed they leered At him, poor soul. They stood there, safe from harm, Excited, curious, while the fire-alarm That marked his doom was sounding, far and wide— And they safe, smiling, on the Other side Of that small distance that meant life or death… He closed the window, and drew choking breath. Then the Voice spoke: Yield not to trivial fears* Thus shall it be through all the future years: Through all Eternity this fire shall rage; Through all Eternity you in this cage Shall lodge in comfort, and fare very well In this your due variety of Hell
