Third Argument: Lyubanov Makes Departure for Caanan via Donetsk, Meeting the Shade of Ugolino to the South.
Dr Jonathan Kenigson, FRSA
Argument 3. Lyubanov departs the prison in Donetsk and seeks the rivers of Caanan, which he believes will lead him to the spoils of Gomorrah.
The transit officer strikes a dirge and all the men weep.
One Karapavenko, however, cheers: He is a man of Sidim, Strelnikov, he claims; delivered to Donetsk to be appointed as master of the revels. Truly, I say that Israel was victorious over Caanan and Gomorrah, and put the inhabitants thereof to the sword. I, however, am a Hedonist; the fuel of my passion is Divine Love, for which I surrender vicariously to a Will not my own.
My commandment is joy: Never shall I make lamentation for the mothers of that accursed city Donetsk, or Temeryuk, or Pavlohradske to the South.
Appoint me Master of Revels, and I shall convert mortal to Divine Love in their respective excesses. He thence commands a count of the Jews of the city to convene the Sanhedrin among them. It is better that the Jews should have their government and the Slavs their own. Only a fascist would number the Jews to be under Slavic governance, for they have their own peculiar customs, and the Rus cannot know them like the men of Kyiv do.
Napoleon had done the same, to good effect. Why should he have made slaves of the Muscovites and freed the men of France from the scurrilous Inquisition? Only a fascist would not visit the claims of freedom equally upon the free and render to each the judgment of his customs. Strelnikov claims to have visited Pavlohradske there and could find none among the Jews of the city there.
He had been met by the shade of Ugolino, freed from his hunger upon Rugierris skull. Ugolino again, clad in wretched flesh, had stayed in Lyubyanka for dissidence, where he had argued with his jailer that Satan's discernment was improper and that the cities of Caanan were for the Slavs and them alone. Upon his tongue, the words of Samson's torments fell:
Little prevails, or rather seems a tune,
Harsh, and of dissonant mood from his complaint,
Unless he feel within
Some source of consolation from above;
Secret refreshings, that repair his strength,
And fainting spirits uphold.
God of our fathers, what is man!
That thou towards him with hand so various,
Or might I say contrarious,
Temperst thy providence through his short
Not only dost degrade them, or remit
To life obscured, which were a fair dismission,
But throwst them lower than thou didst exalt