The Insolently Threatened Yet Miraculously Rescued Bible by Frederick Engels

Canto The First

Spread out your pinions, O my soul, and humbly rise
To praise in stately song Faith’s glory to the skies.
Faith’s triumph — no! For am I not a broken reed?
Another gives the vigour that I need:
The ability, the will. O you believers, pray
That gracious blessings may be showered my way.
Raise a great roar, you [Heinrich] Leo of the Saale strands.
Fold, Hengstenberg, your more-than-once triumphant hands.
Prodigious likewise at the lectern and the lyre,
Sack, lend my pen those powers of yours, lend me your fire
Krummacher, man of God, rock of believers true,
O guide me how to preach the Word as well as you.
Dear, pious Knapp, your flaming brands of poetry
I bear into the dark dens of iniquity.
And you, that to the tribe of mockers bold and free
Held out the holy Cross, O Klopstock, stand by me!
What would I be without you, Theologian John!
If you will help, I'll start and boldly carry on.
With your assistance too, David and Ezekiel,
I'll tear up by the roots all blasphemy most vile.
Strong pillars of the Faith, come close and rally round,
Shield me from Mockery, and Slander’s jeering sound.
Lift up your pious hands towards the throne of Grace,
That to God’s glory I may run my arduous race.
What suddenly disturbs the chorus of Hosannas?
What’s happened to the angel hymns that fell like Manna?
Woe! Has the Devil’s cunning somehow sneaked up there?
Has his pestiferous stench turned joy into despair?
Where only praise and jubilation should resound,
What means all that distress, that sad funereal sound?
Who up in highest Heaven makes that dismal moan?
It is the pious souls, they are the ones that groan:
"O Lord, O hear, hear Lord, O hear our desperate cry!
How long wilt Thou let Faith endure such agony?
How long before Thou wilt avenge the Faithful blood
So long spilt by the insulting and blaspheming brood?
Oh, shall the boasts of overweening arrogance
Prosper down there on Earth in all magnificence?
Shall each philosopher insist that ‘I am I'?
Shall the free-thinking mob Thy very Name deny?
Their arrogant jeering still more wantonly resounds.
O call the judgment Day, O let the Last Trump sound!”
The Lord placated them: “The measure is not full.
Wait till the carrion stink blows even still more foul.
My soldiers I have yet to train in verve and dash,
So that they flee not Satan in the final clash.
Below there in Berlin, I am indeed much sought,
But others, fettered by the chains of arrogant thought,
They won’t have Faith in me, they want to understand,
And seek to gird me round with thought’s tight metal band.
Take Bruno Bauer: he believes, but thinks as well;
His flesh may well be willing, but his spirit’s frail.
But wait awhile till all those dregs have finished sinking,
And Satan after that will never catch him thinking.
He'll find me in the end, if he but seeks me truly,
And spurns the idle vanities he loves unduly.
Thought’s folly, that has torn his senses all apart,
He'll see as wind; the Light once more shall flood his heart.
Philosophy he'll deem nought but an empty fraud,
Grace shall break through. He'll know again that God is God.”
Now at these words great was the Angels’ joy on high,
And pious praises of the Almighty filled the sky:
"Let power and might and glory evermore redound
To Thee that set the stars of Heaven whirling round.
Thy wrath shall smite the wicked ones in every land,
Exalting those that truly serve at Thy command.”
Then further spake the Lord: “In that last battle, he
Shall lead the Faithful ones to final victory.
When all the brimming vials of my wrath are shed
Upon the sinful Earth, and when the seas turn red,
When well-springs shoot black fountains in the deep ravine,
And swarming locusts in their shimmering hosts are seen,
When all Earth thunders to a clanging hail of fire,
And when the ground heaves up, and cliffs are smashed entire,
Then on that day shall Bruno Bauer never falter —
To raise the standard of my hosts for Throne and Altar.”
These words were greeted with felicity up there,
And jubilant hymns to praise the Almighty filled the air:
“Sing Hallelujah! Let the incense ever rise!”
But lo! while Heaven’s vaults ‘still echoed to the song,
With stench and roaring tumult Satan swept along,
Black writhing flames of Hell — rage from his eyeballs bursting,
His tongue to taste the blood of God’s own children thirsting.
He stepped towards the Throne on sacrilegious feet,
Towards the Angels clustered round the Almighty’s Seat,
Then he, in thunderous tones: “How long must you postpone,
And in your cowardly peace keep me cooped up at home?
Or do you simply fear that Doomsday, when we meet
And battle at last is given
For this world’s crown, shall signal your defeat,
As I invade your tent of Heaven?
But if you dare, then hurry up, give battle,
And let the trumpet sound to engage.
I'll muster all my savage hosts to try your mettle.
Oh, how I burn to charge in the fierce war we'll wage
As through your heavenly spheres I rage!”
And then the Lord: “Have patience, for the time is nigh
When you shall learn indeed who is the Lord on High.
Look down below on Earth. See you the portents there
At which men tremble and stand deathly pale with fear?
See war and revolution, pestilence and fire,
Law held to scorn, religion trampled in the mire.
There, blasphemy’s triumphant, mocked is piety.
But wait awhile. Soon things shall ten times better be,
For as my servant true I've chosen in my need
One who shall preach my Kingdom to the godless breed.
A target he shall be of ridicule and scorn;
But that is all I need to get things quickly done.
The measure’s not yet full, but very soon will be,
If they still treat the light of Grace with mockery.”
The Devil: “Who’s the one that’s chosen for this feat?”
The Lord: “It’s Bruno Bauer.”
   "The Licentiate?”
“The same.”
“You've picked a most unusual servant there.
He gives his soul no sustenance of hymn or prayer,
And he demands from you your very loveliest stars.
To apprehend them — that is what he loves the best.
Even the very finest speculative cores
Of dogma do not help to soothe his troubled breast.”
The Lord: “Although his service may be inconsistent,
I shall clear u his mind’s confusion in due season,
And if in thinking he still dares to be persistent,
You may be sure he'll very quickly lose his Reason.”
The Devil: “What’s the use of that? I'll lure him down.
That precious stone of yours shall sparkle in my crown.
And since he still has Hegel running round his brain,
You watch — that’s where I'll get him by his hairy mane!”
The Lord: “Go on, then! You can have him as your
Go, drag him from his Saviour. Take him far away. prize!
Yes, you may catch him, if you can, with cheating lies.
Laugh as you take him with you down your Hell-bound way,
Then stand ashamed and make admission on your part:
For all his Speculation, the believer still
Sticks to the straight and narrow pathway in his heart.”
The Devil laughed. “Go on! You can’t scare me, you know!
Watch out! As your man, Bauer hasn’t long to go!”
Then out of Heaven with raging tempest force he broke,
And left the bright domain still billowing with his smoke.
Now while the Fiend with God in business was engaged,
The legions of the damned in Hell had all rebelled.
An angry, howling mob, they rioted and raged,
“Where are you, Satan, Satan, where are you?” they yelled.
Their leader, Hegel, swung two torches in the air.
Whirling a fiery flail, behind him came Voltaire.
Danton was shouting with them, Edelmann was howling.
“Charge, charge, you scum of Hell!” Napoleon was bawling.
All through the gloomy pit of fire the dark shades poured,
Snorting about with fury, shouting for their Lord.
Then down from Heaven’s heights he plummeted amain
Into his sea of fire, into his tomb of flame.
“What’s this?” he roared at them. “What do you want, you rabble?
You dare to mock the wrath and power of the Devil?
Are you not hot enough in Hell-fire’s blazing flood?
Do I not slake your thirst full well with righteous blood?”
“No, no, you good-for-nothing Devil!” screamed Voltaire.
“Have I been sowing doubt here, there, and everywhere
Merely that through the whole of speculative night
The word ‘philosophy’ should be decried outright,
And that the French should trust their priests instead of me —
And that you, Satan, you should let this come to be?”
Said Danton: “Did I guillotine them all in vain,
That Reason ousted God, but God is back again?
Now nonsense reigns supreme, and high-born fops once more
In league with crack-brained priests their kingdom can restore.”
The furious Hegel, who'd been speechless all along,
Forthwith rose like a giant and finally gave tongue:
   "To Science I've devoted every hour,
And I've taught Atheism with all my power.
Self-consciousness upon the Throne I seated,
And thought that God had thereby been defeated.
But foolish misconception’s all that’s used me,
And certain craven minds have much abused me,
Out of pure nonsense building pseudo-structures,
Enslaving Speculation with their strictures.
At last, a truly brave man came to hand,
Strauss, who had half begun to understand.
And yet when Zurich offered him a Chair,
They simply wouldn’t let him lecture there. ^[161]
Shame, that the world condemns to banishment
The instrument I had the wit to invent
The freedom-fighter, bravest ever seen,
Woe, woe, I cry, they've banned my guillotine
Say, Devil, have I lived to no avail?
Is my philosophy, then, doomed to fail?
When will the right man come, and come apace,
To chop the heads off all the pious race?”

The Devil heard him out, with gentle malice grinning:
“Peace, most devoted servant, you can stop that whining.
Do you not know your Devil, then? I have a plan.
The very man has long been found. Found is the man.”
“Who, who? We're all agog to know!” the rabble cried.
“His name is Bruno Bauer,” the Arch-Fiend then replied.
Howling with mirth, the sinful host all turned away,
Hegel, ablaze with fury, was provoked to say:
“You mock us still, you sneerer of the vilest sort!
Why Bruno Baer, who brings Reason’s cause to nought,
And drags all Science up to trial in Faith’s High Court?”
“Oh, Hegel, are you blind?” the Lord of Hell replied.
“You think the fruits of Faith will keep him satisfied?
His thirst is much too great, and they are not enough.
Who fights as hard as he does, won’t run out of puff.
It won’t be long before he doffs Faith’s beggar cloak,
And then I'll clinch it with him at a single stroke.”
Said Hegel, finally relieved: “I bow to you!”
And all the gang of Hell roared out a wild “Halloo!”
They saw their master to the door with many a joyous yell,
And he, assured of triumph, floated up from Hell. —
A house of pious people and a dingy room
Stacked high with books, and Bauer pondering in the gloom,
The Pentateuch in front of him, the Devil behind,
A tug of war twixt Faith and Doubt within his mind.
“Did Moses write this book, and is it true for sure?
Philosophy, your meaning is so oft obscure!
I've studied matters Phenomenological,
Theological also, to my distress,
Aesthetical too, Metaphysical, Logical,
Not entirely without success.
I'm Doctor and Licentiate,
I lecture in college early and late,
I've married, by Speculation astute,
Faith and the Concept Absolute.
Nought is beyond me, no mystery
Can stand the test of my, scrutiny.
Name me the dogma I haven’t been into —
Creation, Redemption, Original Sin, too.
I've grasped with absolute perfection
Even the Immaculate Conception,
Lock, stock and barrel — but all that stuff
Still doesn’t prove the Pentateuch is not a bluff.
O who will help me, who will get me off the rack?
O who will give the bread of knowledge that I lack?
What if that most mysterious book
Inscribed in Philip’s own true hand
Became my trusty guide and took
Me through Doubt’s ever-labyrinthine land?
I break it open. I can see the light
A spring of Categories rushes into sight.
Oh, see theml Up and down they climb,
Passing gold buckets all the time!
What high ecstasy!
Faith and Science, I see,
Have signed an armistice
With sanctified kisses!
Deep under me is Nature’s mighty power!
Ah, what a sight! — but show, nothing more!
When shall the veil e'er lifted be
That hides the source of the Pentateuch from me?

Philip, appear!”
The wall divides, and then a shadow, triple-crowned,
Steps through the cleft to raise a bony warning hand:
“O Bauer, Bauer, mind you stray not from the path
That Hegel’s Logic has marked out for you to follow!
For, in that work, the Concept absolutely clear
Shines forth. So do not let Imaginative Thinking
Ever defy the Spirit there, which stands for Freedom.”
“But can you tell me how authentic is this Book?
Oh, do not turn away from me! Speak, answer, talk!”
“You're like the Spirit, that you understand, not me!"'
“Not you? Oh, do not vanish! Stay with me, my friend!”
He shouts, jumps up, and lo! before him stands the Fiend!
"Ha haha haha haha haha haha!
There stands the Theologian! There you are!
You thought yourself so shrewd, not even apprehending
That you were running round in circles never-ending?”
Here Bruno reaches for his Bible, mad with fear.
“Pah!” says the Devil, laughing. “That old primer there?
Pah! We've left all that junk a long, long way behind,
Think you that I believe such trash can ease your mind?
Think you that, when within these musty walls you strain
Concocting categories in your fevered brain,
Or mixing Fire and Water — when you choose
To try and slake the Spirit’s thirst with filthy brews,
The free-willed Spirit that would burst its bonds and flee
The foul confining dungeon of captivity —
‘Mink you such torture can e'er satisfy your urge?
Did Hegel ever teach you Hill and Vale to merge,
Or Black and White, or fiercely flaming Fire and Water?
Consider Hegel now, that unabashed God-hater,
Who, without thinking further, flung Fact overboard
And, choosing Reason, cast away Tradition’s Word.”
"O Satan, what you say indeed sounds fine — a well
Of Heaven’s purest light; thus shines the smoke of Hell.
But still I won’t be led astray; for Speculation
Has long included you within its comprehension.
And since all Being by my Spirit’s permeated,
Are you alone from understanding, then, exempted?
With fair appearance and dissembling words you please us:
You lead us gently on, then suddenly you seize us,
Pledging free Spirit for our lovely world of Fact,
To lure us to that narrow realm of the Abstract.
With your free Spirit to the far Extreme I'll go,
Because ‘I am’ is all I claim to think and know.
They don’t delude me, Friend, those stark and chilly heights,
Where what the Spirit grasps, the Spirit also blights.
Your Spirit is a Moloch racked with hunger’s pangs,
And at the Positive it ever bares its fangs.
Full well I know you and I know your ways, you see;
Phrases and empty words are all you've given me.
See if I positively grasp this Pentateuch,
I grasp the concept ‘Judaism’ like this book.”
The Devil laughs and jeers. “How very funny! Must
You try to polish up what’s old and thick with rust?
How the Lord’s finger is discerned in one small louse, [Moses 8: 19]
And how the Lord will guide the building of a house, [Moses 22:8]
And how the Lord’s design is seen in Measure, Weight
And Pledge [Moses 25] — on suchlike things you choose to speculate?
You waste yourself on them, and get no joy or rest.
Just try your strength with Faith, and see who comes off best!
Up there, the Spirit feels its power and majesty.
No more a worm that crawls through old putridity,
It reigns triumphant on its throne; its high Law sees
Faith, slave of Prejudice, down on its bended knees.”
"O Devil, with what case you utter all the things
I've hardly dared to in my wild imaginings.
Now I'm a man obsessed, a man tormented by
His very inmost being’s agonising cry:
‘Your life has come to nought!'”
   "Don’t waste your time in vain.
If the desire is there, you can be born again!”
“Then where do I begin?”
   "Think you that in this spot,
Berlin, this true-believing, sandy vacant lot,
That here you'll ever reach the lofty heights, attain the bliss
Of dealing Faith once and for all the coup de grâce?
To Bonn I'll take you, ^[162] to the Rhine so proud and green;
Of superstition’s slime you'll wash your notions clean.
You'll live a life of joy and beauty all the time,
Refreshed by union with the true juice of the vine;
Where all is Victory, where every breast heaves high,
Where every vein’s a-throb with Freedom’s radiancy!”
“Lead on! I'll follow you!”
   "Where in full clarity
The pure Truth rises from the Spirit struggle free —
There, high upon the wrecks of barriers devastated,
Triumphant build a shrine to Free Thought consecrated!”