Alexander Blok - 'The King in The Square', Slavonic and East European Review, 12 (36), 1934

The King in the Square
Author(s): Alexander Blok, Oleta Joan O'Connor and George Rapall Noyes
Source: The Slavonic and East European Review, Vol. 12, No. 36 (Apr., 1934), pp. 489-512
Published by: the Modern Humanities Research Association and University College London, School of
Slavonic and East European Studies
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AND EAST EUROPEAN
REVI EW.
VOL. XII. No. 36. APRIL, I934.
THE KING IN THE SQUARE

by ALEXANDER BLOK (I906)
Translated by OLETA JOAN O'CONNOR, and
GEORGE RAPALL NOYES.
NOTE.-AlexanderBlok (i88-i92i) was the leaderof the symbolist

school in Russian poetry. The King in the Square, writtenin I906
and I907, reflectshis despairat thefailure of the Russian revolutionary
movementof the period.
CHARACTERS.
The KING, enthronedon the terracebeforehis palace.
The ARCHITECT, an old man with loose-fittingdark clothes. By the
lines on his face and his grey hair he suggeststhe KING.
The DAUGHTERof the ARCHITECT, a tall, beautiful girl in black silks.
The POET,a youth, guided in life by the ARCHITECT, with the DAUGHTER
of whomhe is in love.
The JESTER,a parasite of the theatre,and the representativeof common
sense. Sometimeshe covershis gold-embroidered bellywith a priestly
cassock.
LOVERS, CONSPIRATORS,a COURTIER,a GIRL SELLINGROSES, WORK-
MEN, DANDIES, BEGGARS, PERSONS and VOICES IN THE CROWD.
RUMOURS, small and red, dart about in the city dust.
PROLOGUE.
The city square. The backgroundgleams with the white fa9ade
of the palace, rising abovea broad,high terrace; on a massive throne
sits thegigantic KING.His crowncoversthe ancientgreencurls rippling
above his tranquilface, which is furrowed with deep wrinkles. His
489

490 THE SLAVONIC REVIEW.
slender hands rest on the arms of the throne. His whole attitude is
majestic. At the very bottom,near the footlights, and under the high
parapet of the quay, is a bench; staircasesdescendto it on bothsides.
The benchis on the shoreof the sea, whichcomesup in a narrowchannel
from the distance, on the left side rounding the cape on which are the
square and the palace, and mergeswith the orchestraand the theatre,
so that the scene representsonly an island-a chance refugefor the
characters.
The sun has not yet risen. In almost completedarkness, the
JESTER,who serves as a Prologue,rows in from the sea, ties his boat
at the shore,takes out of it a fishhookand line and a small bundle,and
seats himself on the bench.
JESTER1 Too lazy is the sun to rise,
I sit here by the sea;
Great lights may well to work despise
But 1,-that's not for me.
Without them I my way have found
And rowed me to this place,
By my good sense and wisdom sound
To win, good sirs, your grace.
Well ! There's a palace, deep in shade
Here, terraced high, a throne;
Whereon a king in crown arrayed
Sits old and sad and lone.
Before the palace walk and chat
The populace at play,
'Tis only dog and democrat
Who may not pass that way.
A path for decent folk runs by;
A bench here, for the same;
'Twas only as your Prologue I
A place on it could claim.
In front, the orchestra'sa sea,-
Its waters dull and drear;
As clear as crystal they will be
When once the sun is here.
X The followingsong was translatedby B.P.

THE KING IN THE SQUARE. 491
My task is done; my only wish,

That you this scene should mark;
But common sense says when you fish
You want the water dark.
(The JESTER seats himself astride the edge of the stage and flings
his hook into the orchestra. During the Act, for the most part, he is
hidden behindthe side curtain; he appears only in scatteredscenes.)
ACT I.
Morning.
Night struggleswith dawn. Abovethe shore,hardly visible in the
dusk, are twounknownpersons. Thefirst-in black-is leaningagainst
the whitestoneof thepalace. The otheris sitting on the shore. A third
is not visible; he is somewherenear by, qnd only his voice is heard-
brokenand ominous.
FIRST: Now day has begun to break.
SECOND:It is oppressivewhen day is awakening.
VOICEOFTHETHIhD: Do not betray despair. Do not betray death.
FIRST: There is nothing for me to betray, comrade; I no longer
believe in anything. But I fear for others.
SECONDand VOICEOF THE THIRD (Together): Fear not for us.
FIRST: For you I do not fear. The city terrifiesme. All the inhabi-
tants have gone mad. They build their happiness on an insane
sort of illusion. They are expecting something from the ships
that are coming today.
SECOND (Clutchinghis head): My God! My God ! Ships from the sea!
This is stark madness !-If they believe in that, why then there is
nothing more to believe in! Terrible times!
FIRST: It is absurd to say: terrible times. If we let our thoughts
wander, every one will go mad. Let us find in ourselves the
strength to live this day to the end, so that then-we may die.
SECOND: What happiness-to die !
VOICEOFTHETHIRD: He speaks of happiness. Let us go alone-to
burn and to destroy.
FIRST: Let him speak. It is nothing. His despair, too, is infinite.
(They are silent.)
SECOND:Neither roof nor family. Nowhere to lay my head. It is
terrible.
FIRST: What need that man fear, if he pities nothing?
SECOND:The morning dusk. Deathly oppression.
I I 2

VOICEOF THE THIRD: To burn. To burn.

SECOND:I feel terror-pity.
VOICEOF THE THIRD: Then die, if you feel pity.
(They are silent. Slowly the dawn breaks.)
SECOND:Tell me, comrade, did you ever really believe in virtue?

FIRST: I give you my word for it. And I sought happiness. And
I loved cosy nooks where the air is full of perfumes, where a
woman places bread and flowers on a table.
SECOND: You loved children?
FIRST: Let us stop this. I loved children. But I no longer have
pity even for children.
SECOND:Answer me this last question: Do you believe that
destruction is a liberator?
FIRST: I do not.
SECOND: Thank you. Nor do I.
(They are silent.)
FIRST (Looking at the KING): He is dozing there above us. The

beauty of his aged locks rules the world. For can such decrepit
hands rule the world?
SECOND:And so you fear something. We are strong only with your
strength. But if you are merely a vision-then we shall melt
away in this wanderingmorning light. The people will not follow
us. The people fear delusion.
FIRST: All will follow us. The hour is at hand-and all will follow
us.
SECOND: They have families, houses.
FIRST: Their families are scattered abroad. Their houses are
shaken.
SECOND:There is no place for a fire in them.
FIRST: It is all the same-all will burn. The hard and the soft,
the dry and the damp. From the damp there is more smoke.
SECOND: And the old man will burn?
FIRST: In him there is nothing to burn. Everything is petrified.
SECOND: So he will remain whole!
VOICE OF THE THIRD: Let us scatter him on the winds. Let us
fling him into the sea.
SECOND: And no one will remember him?
FIRST: Whoever loves him will remember.
(They are silent. The dayflames forth.)

FIRST: In the whole city I know only two living people. Every
one fears the old Architect.
SECOND:And you fear him?
FIRST: No, he will not hinder us. The crowd is too petty to hearken
to the will of a Titan.
SECOND: Who is the other?
FIRST: The other ?-His daughter.
SECOND:Ludicrous! You are afraid of a woman! Your voice
trembled!
FIRST: Do not laugh. I fear neither common sense, nor will, nor
toil, nor the rough strength of men. I fear mad imagination,
absurdity-what in former times was called a lofty dream.
SECOND:You fear religion, poetry? Long ago the world left them
behind. The world has forgotten about prophets and poets.
FIRST: It was so. But in the hour of death every one recalls the
beauty that was forgotten. She infects them with her own mad
beauty. Invisibly and secretly-she now rules the city. She
yearns to breathe new life into the King.
SECOND:Can this be possible? Can this hinder destruction?
FIRST: Yes. They will fall at her feet. They will make her queen.
They will begin to worship her in temples.
SECOND: Old dreams are not born again.
FIRST: But to follies all are ready to return. They are capable of
crowning their own madness, when they have lost all hopes and
all virtues.
SECOND:You are raving. You have gone mad.
FIRST: Let it be so. Without me you have no strength. Believe
me, in her there is the creative intoxication of her father and the
wrath of later generations !
SECOND: What shall we do?
FIRST: Wait until this day is over. This evening she will speak
with the people and with the King.
SECOND:Still a whole day ! Empty and bright ! Better to die!
FIRST: I swear to you: we shall all die before night.
VOICEOFTHETHIRD(like an echo): We shall die.
(Completedaylight. The city is awakening-more and more
audible is the music of the morning murmurs. From the distance,
from the directionof the sea, the wind carries the thud of axes.)
SECOND:Do you hear? They have not yet lost hope. Hatchets
are striking.

FIRST: They are striking, and they build. They are going to build
to the last minute.
SECOND: They are finishing the mole. They are erecting some sort
of structure for the reception of the ships.
FIRST: Let them hope. We shall perish alone, if the ships come,
or if her lofty dream is realised.
VOICE OF THE THIRD: The ships will not come. A storm will
annihilate them. A burning wind will spread death.
(Theyseparate. The THIRDemergesfrom behinda rock. Withhis
thin, linedface and lanky bodyhe is morelike a bird than anythingelse.
On the square beforethe palace the promenadebegins. Several
DANDIES walk backward and forward. Two belated WORKMEN
pass by.)
FIRST WORKMAN: Work has started. Hurry up!
SECOND WORKMAN: Yesterday one of them came to speak with us.
He forbids building. He says that a storm will carry everything
away.
(They pass on hurriedly. The wind stirs up clouds of duist.
A pale woman offersrosesfor sale. Not far from her pause a YOUTH
and a MAIDEN.)
MAIDEN: Raise your gaze to the heavens above.
This sunny day will assuage all your grief.
YOUTH: Always the clouds are floating above.
White are the towers that they drop in the seas.
MAIDEN: Sad are you, sad! Do but look in mine eyes.
Read there my joy at this meeting with you.
YOUTH: Now do I see that your eyes have grown dark.
Night is the goal to which youth draws you on.
MAIDEN: To joy! To pure joy; The seas sing their songs!
I fear from afar the fleet ships on their way!
YOUTH: I hear the far roar of tumultuous waves;
I see that the blast has gathered the clouds.
MAIDEN: But the beams of the lighthouse still cleave through the
mists;
On the mole they will set bright fires that shall save us.
YOUTH: Behold, o'er the foam stormy petrels now hover;
On the crests of the waves they are rocked by grim fate.
MAIDEN: O'er the storm will ascend the gold rocket of hope
To guide on their way my mirth-bringingships.
YOUTH: With the soul of a prophet I hearken to murmurs
Foreboding for us unescapable night.

MAIDEN: Look ! Sweet-scented roses the pale maiden carries-
The innocent pledge of an untroubled day.
(She goes to the VENDOROF ROSES.)
MAIDEN: Why are you pale? Why do you tremble?
VENDOROF ROSES:I am dying from the burning sun, from the
dust, from weariness, from hunger.
MAIDEN: You are dying?
VENDOROF RoSES: I will choke you with flowersif you do not give
me bread.
MAIDEN(Givingher money): Give me the roses. Go in haste.
(The VENDOROF ROSESdeparts.)
Starving! The morning has perished.
(Up above two DANDIESmeet.)
FIRST: Tell me why they are really awaiting the ships so eagerly?
SECOND:Really, I do not know myself. But does it make any
difference?
FIRST: I am glad to meet a sane man. Every one is so excited that
he talks of nothing but ships. And, you know, a man begins to
believe in them himself.
SECOND:Yes, say what you will, it is impossible to deny the
influence of the crowd. It is contagious.
FIRST: The sillier it is, the more contagious.
SECOND:It's high time to do away with all these rumours by
energetic measures. The government . . . (They go out.)
MAIDEN: How sad are those scraps of well-fed talk!
How grim are flowers in beggars' hands!
No more do I trust that my ships will come!
YOUTH: Then think no more of them.
Look at the flowers.
MAIDEN: These white flowers stifle me!
YOUTH:We will forget the flowers. Look in mine eyes.
These heavy roses are burning your hands.
MAIDEN:Into the sea do I cast them-forgotten.
(Theygo down to the sea.)
MAIDEN: Let us forget all our terrors,
Rememberingonly our love.
Float away, float away, my poor flowers!
(She throws the roses into the water. The YOUTH,with a sad
glance,foUowsthe light movementsof his beloved.)

ACTII.
Midday.
The same setting-only the colourshavegrowndim and the outlines
are blurredby theheat. The sea is motionless. The horizonis misty. A
few idlers are on the square. Now and then workmenand ragamufiins
pass by on the side. From the distance comes a feeble but incessant
sound of axes.
FIRST WORKMAN: At any hour they expect the ships.
SECONDWORKMAN:I'd like to know what they expect from them.
They speed up the building; they make us sing songs that we may
work more merrily.
FIRST WORKMAN: They build and build, but have not yet finished
their building.
(Theygo out. The dolefulsong of the workmenis waftedin from
the distance. Two DANDIES pass.)
FIRST: Some one said that the ships were already visible from the
mole.
SECOND:A false report. It is the fishermen's boats that have
rounded the cape.
FIRST: Ah, is it not all the same! They have those ships on the
brain. I should like to know who imagined all this nonsense?
(Theygo out. The JESTER strolls in, with a fishhookand line in
his hands.)
JESTER: Nasty weather. Even the fish won't bite. No one wants
to come to the fishhook of common sense. Everybody has gone
mad. Well, at last, the maddest of all are coming-perhaps I'll
get a bite.
(He goes behindthe curtain. The ARCHITECTand the POET seat
themselveson the bench.)
POET: No longer does anybody sleep at night. On all faces there is
anxiety; all are waiting for something. Teach me to struggle
against anguish.
ARCHITECT: You do not know yourself what your anxiety is about.
POET: If only I knew! The hungry labour for bread. The insulted
man takes vengeance. A lover says to a woman, " Be mine."
But I am well-fed, and no one insults me. In women I love only
fine hair, rippling voices, and a dream of the impossible. I have
nothing to strive for-I am doomed to anguish.
(The song of the workmenis faintly heard.)

ARCHITECT: Be assured that alarm is useless. Do not think about
the impossible. While the sea washes this shore, while the King
rules the city-nothing will change but your wandering thoughts.
POET: The power of reflection hinders me from living. I know
that the life of the city is just as illusory as my own. The sea
seems to me to be of glass;.the people, dolls.
ARCHITECT: You are ill.
POET: It often seems to me that even the King
ARCHITECT (Interrupting): You are ill. Live more simply. You
are a poet-a senseless, singing creature-and yet it is your fate
to give voice to the thoughts of others; only they are unable to
utter all that you say. Woe to you, if you suggest to men their
secret, mad thoughts.
(A distant rumble and shouts, as if somethingheavy had fallen
into the water. Workmenrun acrossthe square.)
WORKMAN: The scaffolds have slipped! Ten men have fallen into
the sea !
SECOND WORKMAN: And a family without bread!
THIRD WORKMAN: Tell his wife to run to the sea: maybe it is still
possible to save him.
POET: Today I feel that some unheard-of thing is brewing. The
air is too hot. My soul is too empty.
ARCHITECT: You think that the world is coming to an end? Perhaps
you too are awaiting the ships?
POET(Enthusiastically): The ships will come!
ARCHITECT: Madman! You lash their families, you lash their
triviality! But they are all better than you. You are broken;
you cannot breathe in either the sea or the dust. They at least
know how to breathe the yellow, stinking dust-bow on your
knees before them!
POET: You are killing me.
ARCHITECT: Unhappy creature! Perhaps too many beggars have
crawled in today from distant parts of the city, and with their
snuffling voices have disturbed the nerves of the white-handed
people; perhaps many children have died and their mothers are
weeping too loudly; perhaps the burning wind has simply spread
rumoursand gossip throughout the city. That is all your anguish
amounts to.
POET: Stop, you are slaying in me the last . . .

ARCHITECT: Such is your end of the world ! Somewhere dogs are

fighting, or women are gossiping and whining! You are dreaming
about the last day ! By your very side they will work, starve,
die-but only towards evening will you awake from your delirium.
(The blowsof axes beginagain.)
POET: Your words strike like axes into my very heart.
ARCHITECT:I am not depriving you of hope. But think of what
I have said. Listen, listen, to the blows of the axes; let them
strike you still more painfully. Else your heart will become
smothered and barren. And I shall turn away from you. I
believe only in those who discriminate between good and evil.
Farewell.
(He goes out. A gust of wind flings up his wide garment. A
cloud of yellow dust coversthe square,the palace, and the KING. One
can see little red RUMOURS springing out of the eddying dust. They
skip aboutand scatterin all directions. The wind seemsto whistlewhen
they breakinto laughter. At this very moment,in the crowdof strollers,
tremblingvoicesresound.)
VOICESIN THECROWD: The King is ill! Near death!
Conspiratorswant to burn the palace!
The King is arrested!
They have deceived us! Can this be the King?
(The dust has vanished. As before,the palace and the calmfigure
of the old KING are visible. The crowdgrows quiet. The promenade
continues. At the same time cooling streamscirculatein the air, as if
the heat had subsided. Gracefully and slowly the DAUGHTEROF THE
ARCHITECT emergesfrom the crowd-a tall, beautiful girl in stiff black
silks. She stops at the edge of the quay right abovethe benchwherethe
POETis sitting, crushedby anguish-and looks down at him.)
D.AUGHTEROF ARCHITECT: Dost thou hear me?
POET(Lookingup): I hear music. The sea smells salty.
(The wind has ceased, and the blows of the axes have subsided.
For some time the distant music of the sea is heard, interruptedby the
muttering of the JESTER.)
JESTER:It is beginning. Just now a big fish bit. The enamoured
simpletons will frighten away all my fish.
(Silence. At the moment when the DAUGHTER
OF THEARCHITECT
slowly descends,the sky becomesovercastwith a thickfog, which leaves

visible only the bench, like an island, where the DAUGHTER OF THE
ARCHITECTand the POET are seated.)
DAUGHTER OF ARCHITECT:
When the dust settles down on the earth,
And the sly red Rumours have hidden
In their noonday burrowsbelow-
Then music is born in the sea,
And the soul is cooled by the wind.
POET: The white, filmy mist now descends,
And melts with the beauty of love;
But the ancient sea has no power
To drown with its many-toned song
The Jester's voice, piercing and harsh.
Thou speakest as in a dream.
Again do I know thy melodious soul
And thy dark, vague words I love.
POET: Dim are the words that I can speak.
The tales of my soul are unuttered.
(The sea sighs, gatheringthe mist.)
POET: A white sail melts in the distance.
With my vision thy soul is filled.
POET: I see far away the ships, the ships
I cast a spell-be faithful to me.
POET: I see the shore of a fair new land. ...
I recall my spells. Thou art free.
(A breezeseems to rise, and the fog lifts; the milky whiteness
vanishes. The sun breaksthrough. But still all that is visible is the
bench.)
POET: Flecks of foam from the sea have blinded mine eyes.
Above the sea now thou hoverest.
And behind thee rise the phantoms of ships.
Most faithful of all is thy child-like soul.
Thou wilt sing unto me while we are together.
And when I shall perish-still thou wilt sing.

POET: Be with me! My wings become strong!
I am weak when the mob is raging,
I am weak when thy father speaks,
My heart is disclosed to none but thee-
Dark are the songs that fill my soul.
(The silence is again interruptedby the snarling voice of the
JESTER.)
JESTER: Really, all this is too familiar. Whatever she may say,
he likes it all, because he is a fool, and in love. But to the old
curmudgeon, her father, of course he will not listen.
(The JESTER creeps from behind the curtain. His disgusting
profile, with the hook and line, for a momenthides the loversfrom the
theatre. Then he mounts the staircaseand disappearsin thefog.)
POET: Anguish is garbed in the silver vestments of mist.
The beams of day pierce the heart of the mist.
POET: The voice of anguish has sounded.
'Tis the hoarse roar of the waves on the shore.
POET: How clearly the piercing voice of anguish resounds!
The sun is piercing its mantle and heart-
Now thou wilt be free.
POET: Soon the sun will set.
DAUGHTER OF ARCHITECT: At its setting thou wilt be free.
POET: Thy tales of freedom had made me a captive.
A tale is all life unto thee.
Hark, with thy sleepy soul,
To a tale of the evening life-
Thou who art enchanted by me.
POET: Yea, speak to me, princess, speak,
That before me bright dreams may flow,
Bright dreams of a fabled land.
I know a great book, about a bright land,
Where a beautiful maiden ascended
The death bed of an aged tsar
And breathed youth into his decrepit heart !
There o'er a blossoming land,
Ruleth a stately King!
Youth has returned unto him!

THE KING IN THE SQUARE. 50I
(During the precedingscene the sea sings more and more loudly.
At the last words of the DAUGHTER OF THE ARCHITECTthe mist com-
pletely disperses,and dust beginsto dri* in, amid whichred RUMOURS
dart about. Throughthe rising uproar of the crowdthat is gathering
at thepalace, again the blowsof axes are clearlyheard.)
Life fled away for a moment,
Now it has come back once more!
Hear'st thou the builders at work?
Hear'st thou the muttering of others?
See'st thou the Rumours arousingthe throng!
POET: Alien to me are the visions;
Alien to me are the words.
Only thy tale gives me breath-
Leave thou me not.
Ah, no! I cannot abide here with thee!
I must incarnate my tale in myself.
Wait thou for me here at dusk;
Be true in thy soul to the King.
This evening thou wilt be free.
(Shegoes up the steps and mixes with the crowd,which,all the time,
is murmuringhoarselyin the eddyingdust. The POET, buriedin his
thoughts,remains below.)
VOICES IN THE CROWD:
You heard that the ships came by night!
Today the King nodded his head....
The King gave the order! The ships went back again!
Look up ! the King is not there !
The King is here! Nothing can be seen in the dust!
(The voices are interruptedby strange sounds-it seems as if
some one were sobbing. Through the dust one can distinguish the
JESTER, who presses his belly against the parapet of the quay, right
abovethe bench,and with bothfists stops his mouth,in orderto suppress
his laughter.)
JESTER (Crying out through the rumbling): Your Grace! How can I
be of service ?
POET (Quicklyrising, and lookingup at the JESTER): I have already
seen you in a dream. Where is your fishhook?

JESTER (Bursting into laughter): Here, here, here it is, with me!
I am a fisher of men !
POET: Help me! Save me from anguish!
JESTER:While you and your lady were conversing, a whole political
upheaval has ripened!
POET: The ships are near?
JESTER:What ships ? Are you crazy ? Join the party ! You can't
hang about without an occupation.
POET: What shall I do? Speak.
JESTER:Select quickly. I have brought two for you to choose from.
(From behindthe backof the JESTER,two men of birdlikeappear-
ance emergeon eitherside, one in black, the otherin gold. They run
down to the POET.)
BLACKMAN: It is time ! Come with us ! Sing us songs ! The city
languishes without songs!
POET: Who are you?
BLACKMAN: Don't lose time! Sing of freedom! The crowd is
excited-it will follow you!
POET: You are against the King?
BLACKMAN: Death to him!
POET: Leave me. She will not permit you to touch the shrine.
The BLACKMAN runs off with curses.
JESTER(Shouting): Speak to the other !
(Thereis a murmutrin the crowd. The GOLDEN
MANbowsto the
POET.)
GOLDEN MAN: I am happy to talk with you. We cannot waste a
minute. The crowd is in your hands.
POET: Who are you, golden bird?
GOLDEN MAN: A true servant of the King. A courtier. Your
worshipper.
POET: What can I do for you?
GOLDEN MAN: Sing about the shrine. Guard the King from the
turbulent mob. Every instant is precious.
POET: I will sing. Lead the way.
(He goes up quickly. The GOLDEN MANruns ahead,hoppity-skip.
The crowd murmurs.)
JESTER(Burstinginto laughter): He bit! He bit ! There's at least
one person of common sense! Non-party man! Partisan of the
government I

(The JESTERmingles with the crowd. The POET, mounting above
the crowdand standingon one of the steps of theplatform,speaksamidst
the abatingstorm of the people.)
POET: It is all like a dream.
(He turns his face to the crowd. It is speechlessand ready to pay
heed to his songs.)
ACT III.
Night.
The same setting. Evening is falling. Leaden clouds hasten
acrossthe sky. From the distancethe redoubledblowsof axes are heard.
Across the scene,unceasingly,peopledrift towardsthesea, circlinground
the palace. Lively gestures,shining eyes; the agitationhas reachedits
highestpoint. On all faces are alarm and greedy hope. One of the
crowdstops and leans on the railing of thequay. A secondjoins him.
SECOND:You have lost all your strength.
FIRST: Yes, I feel a senseless terror. My heart will not hold out,
if this lasts even one more day. Is it possible that the ships will
not come even today?
SECOND: They must be here today. Otherwise - we are lost. The
people believe that the ships will bring salvation. If they do not
come even today, their patience will break.
FIRST: The last, last hours !-Look, they are all going to the mole,
and will wait there until night. What if they wait in vain?
SECOND: The storm will drive them home.
FIRST: The storm will merely provoke them. All night they will
burn and plunder. Then-an end of everything.
SECOND:Who instilled hope into us ?-Only preparations for a
triumphant reception, promises of eternal happiness !
FIRST(Bendingdownlow to the railing): I have moments of lucidity.
As before death. Whither is this carrying us? What made us
believe ?
SECOND:Only catching at life. To believe in this is to catch at a
straw.
FIRST: The axes are striking, striking. They strike ceaselessly.
Where shall we take refuge from the blows of the axes?
SECOND:From morning till evening they strike. They are building
a tower, in order to shoot a rocket when the first ship appears on
the sea.

FIRST(Weeping):My knees weaken. I haven't slept for so many

nights! Rest! Rest !
SECOND:Have patience! Perhaps there is not long to wait.
(Thereis no answer. The FIRSTbendslow over the railing. At
this momenta beggarwomanapproaches,with a child in her arms.)
BEGGAR WOMAN: Help, for God's sake ! My husband was drowned
in the sea. Give me something for bread.
(The SECOND, not paying any attentionto her expression,gazes
fixedly into theface of the FIRST. The latter has bent completelyover
therailing and has loweredhis head. Peoplego past.)
BEGGAR WOMAN: Good people, help, for the sake of my child!
(Silence.)
BEGGAR WOMAN: Today every one will be happy. The ships will
come. I alone am without bread.
(The child beginsto cry. The BEGGAR WOMAN lulls him to sleep,
retreating in astonishment. The SECOND clasps in his arms the
FIRST, who has bentoverthe railing. The bodyfalls to its knees. On
the iron crossbeamlies his lifeless head.)
SECOND (Bendingoverthe corpse,speaks in a low voice to the BEGGAR
WOMAN): He is dead. Listen. The dead give no alms.
(The BEGGAR WOMAN crosses herself, draws back, and goes on.
Peo,plepass by. Amidst themis the JESTER, in a priest's cassockand
cowl. Withcuriosityhe drawsnear to thecorpse,overwhichthe SECOND
is bending helplessly.)
JESTER (Sternly): Drunk?
SECOND (Seriously): Dead.
JESTER: Reason for death?
SECOND: Rupture of the heart. The alarming events of these days.
JESTER (Shaking his head): All would have gone well if he had
applied to me.
SECOND: Who are you?
JESTER: A spiritual doctor.
(A gust of wind throwsopenthe cassockand tearsthe cowlfrom the
head of the JESTER.)
SECOND (Doubtinglyshaking his head): A spiritualdoctordoes not
wear a red cap. A spiritual doctor does not sew gold lace on his
red belly....
(The cheeksof the JESTER shake with laughter. He quicklycloses
up his cassock. Evening quietlycreepson.)

JESTER (Sternly): And you laugh? You laugh when your friend is
dead ?
(Around themgathers a group of people from the passing crowd.
With curiosity, they all try to get a closerlook.)
SECOND (Gazing at the JESTER with astonishment): I have seen
your hypocritical face somewhere. I do not remember where-I
have seen much in my life: in court, where you suggested death
sentences to the jurors; or in church, where you preached meek-
ness; or . . . yes ! Here on the shore you were proving to the
people that they did not need freedom.
(Hatred wakens on the faces of those who surround them.)
JESTER: Friends, deplorable things are happening here. Go your
way. Be calm. In the name of God . . .
VOICE IN THE CROWD: A new lie! Do not take the name of God
in vain ! The truth ! The truth ! Under the cassock a sly heart
is concealed!
(The JESTER with a swift motion flings open his cassock. He
seems to gain in staturein red and gold clothing. Abovethe crowdhis
fool's cap nods.)
JESTER: You need truth? Here is truth ! Crowdtogether, people I
Gaze at me from the roofs, greet me in the streets, bow to the
earth before me !
(A terrible tumult amidst the increasing crowd. The JESTER
shakeshis cap a little, the bellsring.)
VOICES IN THE CROWD: On such a night, masks on the streets!
Where are we ? Where are we ? Night is near !
JESTER: Do you need truth? It is before you, people! Look at
me ! I am Truth itself-in red and gold nakedness! Remove
the corpses from your streets !
VOICESIN THE CROWD: Terrible! That is a phantom above the
dead man ! The wind brings on ghosts ! Rumourshave hovered in
the dust all day ! Little rumours darted about under foot, red
rumours shrieked in our ears, dusty rumours spread the alarm !
Rumours have taken possession of the crowd ! This is one of
them! See, how it has become inflated towards night ! Night
is near! It is the voice of the people, it is common talk! The
wind carries it all over the earth! Take heed, take heed!
JESTER: I am the voice of rumour! I have many faces, but in
all the universe I bear one name ! CommonSense is my name!
VOICE: Listen! Common Sense is talking with us !
x

5O6 THE SLAVONIC REVIEW.
JESTER: Poor sheep without a shepherd ! Let your hearts be calm !

I am the good shepherd ! Do not linger above the place where
suffering is in the air! This turbulent night will pass! Do not
linger! Go back to your forsaken families!
VOICE: We believe you ! Our hearts are open! Speak!
JESTER: I wili herd you, my flock, with an iron staff ! If you are
not obedient to me, a terrible punishment will fall upon you !
The sea will scourge the madmen! Leaden clouds will bury your
bewildered city beneath them ! Thus speaks Common Sense !
It punishes the seditious of soul ! My red gold merrily sings
before you ! But the merry red gold will bring you death and
conflagrations,if you tax the patience of Common Sense!
VOICE: Quieter! Be calm ! It is terrible ! Woe to madmen!
On your way! To the sea ! To the sea ! To meet the ships !
(The crowdrustlesand disperses. They carryaway the dead body.
Individual exclamationssubside. The JESTER, wrapping himself in
his cassock, again makes his way among the crowd. Soon no one
remains on the scene. Loiterershastily pass by to the mote, wherethe
blowsof axes subside. The ARCHITECTappears on the square.)
ARCHITECT:They are finishing their building.
(He standsin the middleof the square,and looksat the KING. The
POETslowly entersat the right,following the crowdto the sea.)
ARCHITECT:Are you, too, following the crowd?
POET: All my life you have barred the way for me, although our
city swallows up and separates everyone.
ARCHITECT: Yes, the city is leading everyone astray. But for me
it is easy to find the way, for I am aloof from all of you. You
greedily look one another in the eyes. I look over your heads and
clearly see my blue path.
POET: They call you a sorcerer. About you various rumours are
current.
ARCHITECT: The little Rumours will destroy all of you. They are
born in the dry, yellow dust, and penetrate with it into rebellious
hearts. A heavenly storm will descend and lay the dust, and you
will perish together with the dust.
(The ARCHITECTgazes at the eddying clouds.)
POET: I no longer wish to see you. I wished to learn wisdom from
you, but you are old and proud. You do not love me.
ARCHITECT: You would not have met me, if I did not love you.
POET (Wringinghis hands): What shall I do?

ARCHITECT: Remain here. Do not follow the crowd. Do not sing

rebellious songs for it. I bid you abide with the night. Let there
be saved the solitary man who on such a night pronouncedwords
of love.
(The ARCHITECT withdraws. The POETdescendsto the sea and
seats himself on the bench. The dusk rapidly thickens. The trumpet
of the tempestsounds,the dust whirlsround,a thunderstorm
approaches,
the crowdmurmurshoarselyin the distanceon the mole, whencesignal
fires are visible. Above,overthe bench,emergesthe DAUGHTER OFTHE
ARCHITECT. The wind plays in her dark hair, in the midst of whichis
her brightface-like the day.)
POET: I hear, I hear thine approach.
Again thou dost rise o'er the dust
Like a vision, one moment.
In new dust thou wilt disappear,
A new wind will bear thee away.
For the last time I descend unto thee.
Tidings of ill have come to mine ears.
Like black birds in the thick yellow dust
Fragments of new plans now hover.
POET: Night is at hand.
Above the sea the sky reddens.
The leaden clouds drift along,
Sleeping youth has awakened in me !
The glass of the sea is broken by winds !
Within thy soul is the splash of the sea!
Dost thou hear the cry of ill-omened birds?
Dost thou hear the splash of the leaden waves?
(The wind tears her blacksilks and tosses her hair. The darkness
thickens.)
POET: In this ominous hour, in this last hour, perhaps,
Let me cleave with my lips to thy hand;
It shows white beneath the black cloud!
For the last time, touch my hand.
POET: This night for the first time I know thee.
For the last time thou dost see me.
K K 2

POET; Why did youth flame forth so brightly?

Will life soon burn itself out?
Has youth really gone, my princess?
DAUGHTER oF ARCHITECT:
I have power over thy life.
Whoe'er is with me, will be free.
Ah, call me not thy princess!
I am but the daughter of the mad crowd
POET: Even so the autumn wind whistled,
Even so the dust whirled in clouds,
When first I saw thy strange, slender form!
I sought in thee for a hero.
I gaze in the eyes of the future.
POET: Thou descendedst to us from chambers on high.
Thou didst gaze, even as now, on the dawn.
There is no past.
(Pale lightning.)
POET: But the wind then played in thy slumberingfeatures,

And I stood before thee a radiant poet,
Who felt all about him thy charm.
And in thy droopingeyes
I read that thou didst love me.
Forget the past, there is no past.
POET: But thou didst touch me with thy hand!
To that hand I bent down my lips!
And in thy dark, waving tresses
Was the flash of a royal crown.
DAUGHTER oF ARCHITECT:
I have never been a princess!
And how can I know splendour?
I am but the beggar daughter of the crowd.
POET: For the last time-in bewilderinggloom-
I see the glow of a royal crown
There in thy dark, waving tresses!
Did a gleam of lightning flash?
How thy face shone with light!

(In the pale glow of the lightning her black silks seem to shine.
In her dark hair a burning crown appears. Suddenly she embraces
him....
Out of the distant quartersof the city, from thefar-off squaresand
streets, comes the mounting roar of the approaching throng. The
ominous night itself seems chokedby this cry, by this whistle of the
storm,by the sobbingof the wavesbeatingon the shore,in the trembling,
dull, storm-satiatedgleam.)
DAUGHTER OF ARCHITECT: (Suddenly standing erect, thrusting him
from her):
See'st thou the sea, how it tears at the shore?
See'st thou how the lamps of the lightning are kindled?
My brethren await me! Farewell!
(He remains alote in the impenetrabledarkness,betweenthe surf
of the sea and the crowdswarminginto the squareabovehim.
She goes up the steps and entersthe square. A wild cry.)
MAN WITH A TORCH (Hurryingalong in the crowd,and shoutingwhile
running, as if he were borneon by the wind): They signalled from
the mole! Someone has seen a ship from the tower!
(New torchesappear, spreadinga smoky, reddishlight. Thereis
a tall figure in blackon one of the steps of the platform.)
MAN IN BLACK: You have all gathered here. Night is coming on.
The last hour assigned you for the arrival of those ill-fated ships
had already passed. (A roar and a shriek in the crowd.)
And behold, there are no ships! Beware, ye starving men!
Beware, ye sufferers! They will deceive you again ! They promise
you impossible happiness ! In your hands, abused people, rests
vengeance against him who indifferently looks upon your destruc-
tion, there above my head!
(He raises his hand, pointing to the KING. The crowdrends the
air with a cry of grief. At this minute, by the side of the blackfigure,
appears the DAUGHTER OF THE ARCHITECT. She stands silent, and
looks immovablyat the crowd.)
VOICES IN THE CROWD: Enchantress! XVhyhas she come?
(Suddenlythereburstsforth a woman'scry: "Saint! ")
OTHER VOICES (Joining in, reverberateover the square):
In you there is protection! Heal our wounds I
Free us ! Help us ! Give us new life!

5IO THE SLAVONIC REVIEW.
(The blackfigure of the conspiratordisappears. The DAUGHTER

OF THE ARCHITECTslowly mounts the steps to theplatform. The crowd
grows calm.)
SOMEONE'S VOICE (So commonplacethat it cannot be clearly distin-
guished, speaks): In history some examples are known, of women
. . .And I am not surprised . . .
(Somewherein the crowdflashes the red cap of the JESTER, and his
restrainedlaughteris heard, stifled by a hissing. The DAUGHTER OF
THEARCHITECT
appears on the platform and stops a few steps from the
KING. The crowd is absolutely speechless. Above the city, which
seems to be deadfrom the ecstasy of expectation,only two standforth:
SHE and the KING.)
SHE(Interruptingthe silence with a low, deep voice,whichslowlyfloats
downward,like the sigh of a churchbell): King! The future is in
my hands. Thy people have given me thy power over them.
(Silence.)
King! In me there is enough strength to strike thee down
immediately. No one will weep over thine old dust if my will is
carried out. (Silence. The voice becomessharperand morefull of
alarm, like a bonfirewhichflashes up for the last time.)
King! I do not wish to slay thee. If thou art extinguished,
then that narrowstreak of red in the sky will be extinguished also.
I can do more than extinguish light. I will restore for thee thy
formerstrength, and give thee back thy formerpower. See-I give
thee my untouched body. King ! Take it, so that from my
youth, youth may be kindled to flame in thine ancient brain.
(The silence is not brokenby a single sound. The red streak in
the sky turns pale. The DAUGHTER
OFTHEARCHITECT
moves forward.
At the distance of one stepfrom the KINGshe drops on her knees and
touchesher lips to the KING'S mantle, whichfalls in folds upon the
floor.
She rises with a pale face, and hoarselyspeaksfrom above.)
DAUGHTEROF ARCHITECT:Do not touch him. Let him doze and
gaze at the stars. Upon him I have recognised the seal of the
Father.
(With a submissivemovementand perfectlycalm, she seats herself
at his feet, embracinghis gigantic knees. She now seems a child at the
feet of the imperial Father.
The wholecrowdis still fascinated.
Astonishedwhisperscirculate.
Womenweep quietly.

THE KING IN THE SQUARE. 51I
The JESTER forces his way throughthe crowdtowardsthe sea-
with his fishhook and line and bundle. His red cap tremblesin the
wind.)
JESTER(Mumbles): I said that the sea was too turbid today. No
one needs me here any more. Who will harken to CommonSense
when all have lost their heads? Wait, you will still miss me, but
it will be too late. Meanwhile,there remains but one resourcefor
Common Sense-to go abroad....
(He descendsto the sea and goes off into the darkness-to search
for his boat. A child weeps. In a frightenedway his beggarmother
lulls him, but his weeping does not cease. Then the BEGGARWOMAN
cries piercingly, raising the child abovethe crowd.)
BEGGAR WOMAN:The child is dying!
VOICEOFA BEGGAR (joining in): Help! I am dying....
MANYVOICES:Bread !-They have deceived us !-Down with the
King !-Down with the palace!
THE SAMECOMMONPLACE VOICE:YOU cannot feed people with
fancies. It is time to do things ourselves, since the authorities
remain inactive.
(Confusion. The people rush on the scenefrom the directionof the
sea, the GOLDEN MANimpetuouslyrunning in front.)
GOLDEN MAN(Crying): The ships have come! Happiness!
Happiness !
(A rocketgoes up in the distance, after it another-the rockets
ascendmoreand morefrequently.)
VOICESIN THECROWD:Too late! Too late!
(The BLACKMANjumps Up on the steps of the platform; he is
bony, like a bird.)
BLACKMAN: Common Sense has abandoned us! Look, you are
without food and without a roof; you are in the powerof Rumours;
black and gold devils rush about in your midst! Burn, destroy
everything; you cannot vouch for tomorrow!
(Out of the darknessbelow,the POETappears. His ecstaticface
irradiates the square. For an instant he pauses in the midst of the
crowd.)
POET: Happiness is with us ! The ships have come! I am free!
(He begins his last ascent of the terracestairs. At each step that
he takes thefrenzy of the crowdincreases. At each step the DAUGHTER
OF THE ARCHITECT
welcomes him from above with her glances.)

5I2 THE SLAVONIC REVIEW.
POET (Ascending): Heavenly rose! I come to thee!

DAUGHTER OF ARCHITECT (At thefeet of the KING): Thou art coming
to the Father.
POET(Higher): Look, the rockets are descending like rain-petals
of heavenly roses !
DAUGHTEROF ARCHITECT:Thou art free.
POET(Still higher): Thy face is flooded with light.
DAUGHTEROF ARCHITECT:Nearer! Nearer !
POET (On the last step): Hail, sky!
DAUGHTEROF ARCHITECT:Higher! Higher! Passing me, thou
art advancing to the Father!
(At this same instant the enragedcrowd has rushed to the steps
afterthe POET. The columnsare shakenfrom below. Criesand shouts.
The terrace collapses, carrying with it the KING, the POET,the DAUGH-
TER OF THE ARCHITECT, and a part of the people. One can clearly
see, in the red light of torches,people dartingaboutbelowand searching
for corpses; they raise a stone chip of a mantle, a stonefragment of a
torso, a stone hand. Cries of horrorare heard: "A statue!-A stone
idol !-Where is the King ? ")
ARCHITECT (Appearing above the heap of fragments, and waiting
immovablytill the crowdgrows still): I sent you my beloved son,
and you havekilledhim. I sentyou anothercomforter,mydaughter.
And you have not spared her. I created authority for you, I
hewed hard marble-and every day you admired the beauty of
those ancient locks that came forth from beneath my chisel. You
have shattered my creation, and now your house is left empty.
But tomorrow the earth will be as green as before, and the sea as
calm.
SEPARATE VOICES (Now dim): But who will feed us? Who will
bring our wives and children back to us? Who will soothe our
pain ?
ARCHITECT: He will feed you, who moves the stars; He who gives
the black earth to drink of the rains; He who gathers the clouds
above the sea. The Father will feed you.
(He slowly descendsfrom a fragmentof the palace and disappears
in the darkness.)
(Behind the picture of destructionthereis no longer a single fire.
Above the cape a pale darkness reigns. The murmur of the crowd
increasesand blendswith the murmurof the sea.)


Alexander Blok - 'The King in The Square', Slavonic and East European Review, 12 (36), 1934

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Alexander Blok - 'The King in The Square', Slavonic and East European Review, 12 (36), 1934

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The King in the Square

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THE KING IN THE SQUARE

NOTE.-AlexanderBlok (i88-i92i) was the leaderof the symbolist

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My task is done; my only wish,

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VOICEOF THE THIRD: To burn. To burn.

SECOND:Tell me, comrade, did you ever really believe in virtue?

FIRST (Looking at the KING): He is dozing there above us. The

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ARCHITECT: Such is your end of the world ! Somewhere dogs are

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FIRST(Weeping):My knees weaken. I haven't slept for so many

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JESTER: Poor sheep without a shepherd ! Let your hearts be calm !

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ARCHITECT: Remain here. Do not follow the crowd. Do not sing

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POET; Why did youth flame forth so brightly?

POET: But the wind then played in thy slumberingfeatures,

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(The blackfigure of the conspiratordisappears. The DAUGHTER

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POET (Ascending): Heavenly rose! I come to thee!

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