It was published in 1834, and, although it appeared anonymously, it at once succeeded in attracting the attention of the readers and thinkers of Poland, Russia, France, and Germany. Its author is now known to have been Count Sigismund Krasinski, a member of one of the most ancient and distinguished families of Poland. He was equally eminent as poet, patriot, and statesman. He took an active and important part in the social and political questions of his day, many of which are ably discussed in this drama; questions which have so long disturbed the peace of Europe, and whose solution is perhaps to be finally given in our land of equality and freedom.
'The Undivine Comedy' was not intended for the stage, and, as if to sever it as widely as possible from all scenic associations, Count Krasinski makes no use of the terms 'scenes' or 'acts.' This omission gives a somewhat singular appearance to what is, in fact, a drama; the translator has, however, remained faithful throughout to the original form. As the hero, the count, is styled 'The Man' throughout the original, the name has been preserved, in spite of its awkward appearance in English: the spirit of a poetic work, full of mystic symbolism, evaporates so readily in the process of translation, that no sacrifice of the literal meaning has been made to grace or elegance.
'The Undivine Comedy,' so called in contradistinction to 'The Divine Comedy' of Dante, is the first purely prophetic play occurring in the world of art. Its scenes are indeed all laid in the time to come; its persons, actions, and events are yet to be. The struggle of the dying Past with the vigorous but immature Future, forms the groundwork of the drama. The coloring is not local, nor characteristic of any country in particular, because the truths to be illustrated are of universal application, and are evolving their own solutions in all parts of the civilized world.
The soul of the hero, 'The Man,' is great and vigorous; he is by nature a poet. Belonging to the Future by the very essence of his being, he yet becomes disgusted by the debasing materialism into which its living exponents, the 'New Men, have fallen, he loses all hope in the possible progress of humanity, and is presented to us as the champion of the dying but poetic Past. But in this he finds no rest, and is involved in perpetual struggles and contradictions. Baffled in a consuming desire to solve the perplexing religious and social problems of the day by the force of his own intellect; longing for, yet despairing of, human progress; discerning the impracticability and chicanery of most of the modern plans for social amelioration—he determines to throw himself into common life, to bind himself to his race by stringent laws and duties. The drama opens when he is about to contract marriage.
His Guardian Angel, anxious to save him, tries to lead him, through the accomplishment of human duties, safely into that mystic Future, which he had already vainly tried to find through the power of his own intellect. The Angel chants to him:
'Peace be to men of good will. Blessed is the man who has still a heart; he may yet be saved!
'Pure and true wife, reveal thyself to him; and a child be born to their house!'
Thus the words once heard by the shepherds, and which then announced a new epoch to humanity, open the drama. It is indeed only 'men of good will,' men who sincerely seek the truth, who, in great or new epochs, are able to comprehend it, or willing to receive it. And the number of those who have preserved a heart during the excitement and passions of such eras, is always very small, and without it they cannot be saved, for love and self-abnegation are the essence of Christianity.
To instil new life and hope into the wearied 'Man,' the Angel ordains that a pure and good woman shall join her fate with his; that innocent young souls shall descend and dwell with them. Domestic love and quiet bliss are the counsel of the heavenly visitant.
Immediately after the simple chant of the Guardian Angel, the voice of the Evil Spirit is heard seducing 'The Man' from the quiet path of humble human duties. The glories of the ideal realm are spread before him; Nature is invoked with all her entrancing charms; ambitious desires of terrestrial greatness are awakened in his soul; he is filled with vague hopes of paradisiacal happiness, which the Demon whispers him it is quite possible to establish on earth. In the temptations so cunningly set before him by the Father of Lies, three widely-spread metaphysical systems are shadowed forth: the ideal or poetic; the pantheistic; and the anthropotheistic (Comte's), which deifies man. The vast symbolism of this original drama is especially recommended to the attention of the critic.