Chapter 5
But this was not to last--thank God and him! One night he came, and there had been a change. My hand was kindly taken, but not held In the way wonted. He was self-possessed; The powers of darkness and his Christian heart Had had a struggle--his the victory; And on his manly brow the benison Of a majestic peace had been imposed. Was I to lose the guerdon of my guile? He was my all, and by the only means Left to a helpless, reckless thing, like me: My heart made pledge the strife should be renewed. I took no notice of his altered mood, But strove, by all the tricks of tenderness, To fan to life again the drooping flame Within his heart;--with what success, at last, The sequel shall reveal.
Strange fire came down Responsive to my call, and the quick flash That shriveled resolution, vanquished will, And with a blood-red flame consumed the crown Of peace upon his brow, taught him how weak-- How miserably imbecile--he had become, Tampering with temptation. Such a groan, Wrung from such agony, as then he breathed, Pray Heaven my ears may never hear again! He smote his forehead with his rigid palm, And sank, as if the blow had stunned him, to his knees, And there, with face pressed hard upon his hands Gave utterance to frenzied sobs and prayers-- The wild articulations of despair. I was confounded. He--a man--thought I, Blind with remorse by simple look at sin! And I--a woman--in the devil's hands, Luring him Hellward with no blush of shame! The thought came swift from God, and pierced my heart, Like a barbed arrow; and it quivered there Through whiles of tumult--quivered--and was fast. Thus, while I stood and marked his kneeling form, Still shocked by deep convulsions, such a light Illumed my soul, and flooded all the room, That, without thought, I said, "The Lord is here!" Then straight my spirit heard these wondrous words: "Tempted in all points like ourselves, was He-- Tempted, but sinless." Oh, what majesty Of meaning did those precious words convey! 'Twas through temptation, thought I, that the Lord-- The mediator between God and men-- Reached down the hand of sympathetic love To meet the grasp of lost Humanity; And this man, kneeling, has the Lord in him, And comes to mediate 'twixt Christ and me, "Tempted, but sinless;"--one hand grasping mine, The other Christ's.
Why had he suffered thus? Why had his heart been led far down to mine, To beat in sinful sympathy with mine, But that my heart should cling to his and him, And follow his withdrawal to the heights From whence he had descended? Then I learned Why Christ was tempted; and, as broad and full, The heart of the great secret was revealed, And I perceived God's dealings with my soul, I knelt beside the tortured man and wept, And cried to Heaven for mercy. As I prayed, My soul cast off its shameful enterprise; And when it fell, I saw my godless self-- My own degraded, tainted, guilty heart, Which it had hidden from me. Oh, the pang-- The poignant throe of uttermost despair-- That followed the discovery! I felt That I was lost beyond the grace of God; And my heart turned with instinct sure and swift To the strong struggler, praying at my side, And begged his succor and his prayers. I felt That he must lead me up to where the hand Of Jesus could lay hold on me, or I was doomed. Temptation's spell was past. He took my hand. And, as he prayed that we might be forgiven, And pledged our future loyalty to God And His white throne within our hearts, I gave Responses to each promise; then I crowned His closing utterance with such Amen As weak hearts, conscious of their weakness, give When, bowed to dust, and clinging to the robes Of outraged mercy, they devote themselves Once and for ever to the pitying Christ.
Then we arose and stood upon our feet. He gave me no reproaches, but with voice Attempered to his altered mood, confessed His own blameworthiness, and pressed the prayer That I would pardon him, as he believed That God had pardoned; but my heart was full,-- So full of its sore sense of wrong to him, Of the deep guilt of shameful purposes And treachery to worthy womanhood, That I could not repeat his Christian words, Asking forbearance on my own behalf.
He sat before me for a golden hour; And gave me counsel and encouragement, Till, like broad gates, the possibilities Of a serener and a higher life Were thrown wide open to my eager feet, And I resolved that I would enter in, And, with God's gracious help, go no more out.
For weeks he watched me with stern carefulness, Nourished my resolution, prayed with me, And led me, step by step, to higher ground, Till, gathering impulse in the upward walk, And strength in purer air, and keener sight In the sweet light that dawned upon my soul, I grasped the arm of Jesus, and was safe. And now, when I look back upon my life, It seems as if that noble man were sent To give me rescue from the pit of death. But from his distant height he could not reach And act upon my soul; so Heaven allowed Temptation's ladder 'twixt his soul and mine That they might meet and yield his mission thrift. I doubt not in my grateful soul to-night That had he stayed within his higher world, And tried to call me to him, I had spurned Alike his mission and his ministry. That he was tempted, was at once my sin And my salvation. That he sinned in thought, And fiercely wrestled with temptation, won For his own spirit that humility Which God had sought to clothe him with in vain, By other measures, and that strength which springs From a great conflict and a victory. We talked of this; and on our bended knees We blessed the Great Dispenser for the means By which we both had learned our sinful selves, And found the way to a diviner life. So, with my chastened heart and life, I come Back to my home, to live--perhaps to die. God's love has been in all this discipline; God's love has used those awful sins of mine To make me good and happy. I can mourn Over my husband; I can pray for him, Nay, I forgive him; for I know the power With which temptation comes to stronger men. I know the power with which it came to me.
And now, dear Grace, my story is complete. You have received it with dumb wonderment, And it has been too long. Tell me what thought Stirs in your face, and waits for utterance.
_Grace_.
That I have suffered little--trusted less; That I have failed in charity, and been Unjust to all men--specially to one. I did not think there lived a man on earth Who had such virtue as this friend of yours,-- Weak, and yet strong. 'Twas but humanity To give him pity in his awful strife; To stint the meed of reverence and praise For his triumphant conquest of himself, Were infamy. I love and honor him; And if I knew my husband were as strong, I could fall down before, and worship him; I could fall down, and wet his feet with tears-- Tears penitential for the grievous wrong That I have done him. But alas! alas! The thought comes back again. O God in heaven! Help me with patience to await the hour When the great purpose of thy discipline Shall be revealed, and, like this chastened one, I can behold it, and be satisfied.
_Mary_.
Hark! They are calling us below, I think. We must go down. We'll talk of this again When we have leisure. Kiss the little one, And thank his weary brain it sleeps so well.
[_They descend_.]
SECOND EPISODE.
* * * * *
LOCALITY--_The Kitchen_.
PRESENT--JOSEPH, SAMUEL, REBEKAH, _and other_ CHILDREN.
* * * * *
THE QUESTION ILLUSTRATED BY STORY.
_Joseph_.
Have we not had "Button-Button" enough, And "Forfeits," and all such silly stuff?
_Samuel_.
Well, we were playing "Blind-Man's-Buff" Until you fell, and rose in a huff, And declared the game was too rude and rough. Poor boy! What a pity he isn't tough!
_All_.
Ha! ha! ha! what a pretty boy! Papa's delight, and mamma's joy! Wouldn't he like to go to bed, And have a cabbage-leaf on his head?
_Joseph_.
Laugh, if you like to! Laugh till you're gray; But I guess you'd laugh another way If you'd hit your toe, and fallen like me, And cut a bloody gash in your knee, And bumped your nose and bruised your shin, Tumbling over the rolling-pin That rolled to the floor in the awful din That followed the fall of the row of tin That stood upon the dresser.
_Samuel_.
Guess again--dear little guesser! You wouldn't catch this boy lopping his wing, Or whining over anything. So stir your stumps, Forget your bumps, Get out of your dumps, And up and at it again; For the clock is striking ten, And Ruth will come pretty soon and say, "Go to your beds You sleepy heads!" So--quick! What shall we play?
_Rebekah_.
I wouldn't play any more, For Joseph is tired and sore With his fall upon the floor.
_All_.
Then he shall tell a story.
_Joseph_.
About old Mother Morey?
_All_.
No! Tell us another.
_Joseph_.
About my brother?
_Rebekah_.
Now, Joseph, you shall be good, And do as you'd be done by; We didn't mean to be rude When you fell and began to cry: We wanted to make you forget your pain; But it frets you, and we'll not laugh again.
_Joseph_.
Well, if you'll all sit still, And not be frisking about, Nor utter a whisper till You've heard my story out, I'll tell you a tale as weird As ever you heard in your lives, Of a man with a long blue beard, And the way he treated his wives.
_All_.
Oh, that will be nice! We'll be still as mice.
_Joseph_.
[_Relates the old story of Blue Beard, and_ DAVID, _and_ RUTH _enter from the cellar unperceived_.]
Centuries since there flourished a man, (A cruel old Tartar as rich as the Khan), Whose castle was built on a splendid plan, With gardens and groves and plantations; But his shaggy beard was as blue as the sky, And he lived alone, for his neighbors were shy. And had heard hard stories, by the by, About his domestic relations.
Just on the opposite side of the plain A widow abode, with her daughters twain; And one of them--neither cross nor vain-- Was a beautiful little treasure; So he sent them an invitation to tea, And having a natural wish to see His wonderful castle and gardens, all three Said they'd do themselves the pleasure.
As soon as there happened a pleasant day, They dressed themselves in a sumptuous way, And rode to the castle as proud and gay As silks and jewels could make them; And they were received in the finest style, And saw everything that was worth their while, In the halls of Blue Beard's grand old pile, Where he was so kind as to take them.
The ladies were all enchanted quite; For they found old Blue Beard so polite That they did not suffer at all from fright, And frequently called thereafter; Then he offered to marry the younger one, And as she was willing the thing was done, And celebrated by all the ton With feasting and with laughter.
As kind a husband as ever was seen Was Blue Beard then, for a month, I ween; And she was as proud as any queen, And as happy as she could be, too; But her husband called her to him one day, And said, "My dear, I am going away; It will not be long that I shall stay; There is business for me to see to.
"The keys of my castle I leave with you; But if you value my love, be true, And forbear to enter the Chamber of Blue! Farewell, Fatima! Remember!" Fatima promised him; then she ran To visit the rooms with her sister Ann; But when she had finished the tour, she began To think about the Blue Chamber.
Well, the woman was curiously inclined, So she left her sister and prudence behind, (With a little excuse) and started to find The mystery forbidden. She paused at the door;--all was still as night! She opened it: then through the dim, blue light There blistered her vision the horrible sight That was in that chamber hidden.
The room was gloomy and damp and wide, And the floor was red with the bloody tide From headless women, laid side by side, The wives of her lord and master! Frightened and fainting, she dropped the key, But seized it and lifted it quickly; then she Hurried as swiftly as she could flee From the scene of the disaster.
She tried to forget the terrible dead, But shrieked when she saw that the key was red, And sickened and shook with an awful dread When she heard Blue Beard was coming. He did not appear to notice her pain; But he took his keys, and seeing the stain, He stopped in the middle of the refrain That he had been quietly humming.
"Mighty well, madam!" said he, "mighty well! What does this little bloodstain tell? You've broken your promise; prepare to dwell With the wives I've had before you! You've broken your promise, and you shall die." Then Fatima, supposing her death was nigh, Fell on her knees and began to cry, "Have mercy, I implore you!"
"No!" shouted Blue Beard, drawing his sword; "You shall die this very minute," he roared. "Grant me time to prepare to meet my Lord," The terrified woman entreated. "Only ten minutes," he roared again; And holding his watch by its great gold chain, He marked on the dial the fatal ten, And retired till they were completed.
"Sister, oh, sister, fly up to the tower! Look for release from this murderer's power! Our brothers should be here this very hour;-- Speak! Does there come assistance?" "No. I see nothing but sheep on the hill." "Look again, sister!" "I'm looking still, But naught can I see, whether good or ill, Save a flurry of dust in the distance."
"Time's up!" shouted Blue Beard, out from his room; "This moment shall witness your terrible doom, And give you a dwelling within the room Whose secrets you have invaded." "Comes there no help for my terrible need?" "There are horsemen twain riding hither with speed." "Oh! tell them to ride very fast indeed, Or I must meet death unaided."
"Time's fully up! Now have done with your prayer," Shouted Blue Beard, swinging his sword on the stair; Then he entered, and grasping her beautiful hair, Swung his glittering weapon around him; But a loud knock rang at the castle gate, And Fatima was saved from her horrible fate, For, shocked with surprise, he paused too late; And then the two soldiers found him.
They were her brothers, and quick as they knew What the fiend was doing, their swords they drew, And attacked him fiercely, and ran him through, So that soon he was mortally wounded. With a wild remorse was his conscience filled When he thought of the hapless wives he had killed; But quickly the last of his blood was spilled, And his dying groan was sounded.
As soon as Fatima recovered from fright, She embraced her brothers with great delight; And they were as glad and as grateful quite As she was glad and grateful. Then they all went out from that scene of pain, And sought in quietude to regain Their minds, which had come to be quite insane, In a place so horrid and hateful.
'Twas a private funeral Blue Beard had; For the people knew he was very bad, And, though they said nothing, they all were glad For the fall of the evil-doer; But Fatima first ordered some graves to be made, And there the unfortunate ladies were laid, And after some painful months, with the aid Of her friends, her spirits came to her.
Then she cheered the hearts of the suffering poor, And an acre of land around each door And a cow and a couple of sheep, or more, To her tenantry she granted. So all of them had enough to eat, And their love for her was so complete They would kiss the dust from her little feet, Or do anything she wanted.
_Samuel_.
Capital! Capital! Wasn't it good! I should like to have been her brother; If I had been one, you may guess there would Have been little work for the other. I'd have run him right through the heart, just so; And cut off his head at a single blow, And killed him so quickly he'd never know What it was that struck him, wouldn't I, Joe?
_Joseph_.
You are very brave with your bragging tongue; But if you had been there, you'd have sung A very different tune Poor Blue Beard! He would have been afraid Of a little boy with a penknife blade, Or a tiny pewter spoon!
_Samuel_.
It makes no difference what you say (Pretty little boy, afraid to play!) But it served him rightly any way, And gave him just his due. And wasn't it good that his little wife Should live in his castle the rest of her life, And have all his money, too?
_Rebekah_.
I'm thinking of the ladies who Were lying in the Chamber Blue, With all their small necks cut in two.
I see them lying, half a score, In a long row upon the floor, Their cold, white bosoms marked with gore. I know the sweet Fatima would Have put their heads on if she could; And made them live--she was so good;
And washed their faces at the sink; But Blue Beard was not sane, I think: I wonder if he did not drink!
For no man in his proper mind Would be so cruelly inclined As to kill ladies who were kind.
_Ruth_.
[_Stepping forward with_ DAVID.]
Story and comment alike are bad; These little fellows are raving mad With thinking what they should do, Supposing their sunny-eyed sister had Given her heart--and her head--to a lad Like the man with the Beard of Blue. Each little jacket Is now a packet Of murderous thoughts and fancies; Oh, the gentle trade By which fiends are made With the ready aid Of these bloody old romances! And the little girl takes the woman's turn, And thinks that the old curmudgeon Who owned the castle, and rolled in gold Over fields and gardens manifold, And kept in his house a family tomb, With his bowling course and his billiard-room, Where he could preserve his precious dead, Who took the kiss of the bridal bed From one who straightway took their head, And threw it away with the pair of gloves In which he wedded his hapless loves, Had some excuse for his dudgeon.
_David_.
We learn by contrast to admire The beauty that enchains us; And know the object of desire By that which pains us.
The roses blushing at the door, The lapse of leafy June, The singing birds, the sunny shore, The summer moon;--
All these entrance the eye or ear By innate grace and charm; But o'er them, reaching through the year, Hangs Winter's arm.
To give to memory the sign, The index of our bliss, And show by contrast how divine The Summer is.
From chilling blasts and stormy skies, Bare hills and icy streams, Touched into fairest life arise Our summer dreams.
And virtue never seems so fair As when we lift our gaze From the red eyes and bloody hair That vice displays.
We are too low,--our eyes too dark Love's height to estimate, Save as we note the sunken mark Of brutal Hate.
So this ensanguined tale shall move Aright each little dreamer, And Blue Beard teach them how to love The sweet Fatima.
They hate his crimes, and it is well; They pity those who died; Their sense of justice when he fell Was satisfied.
No fierce revenges are the fruit Of their just indignation; They sit in judgment on the brute, And condemnation;
And turn to her, his rescued wife, Her deeds so kind and human, And love the beauty of her life, And bless the woman.
_Ruth_.
That is the way I supposed you would twist it; And now that the boys are disposed of, And the moral so handsomely closed off, What do you say of the girl? That she missed
When she thought of old Blue Beard as some do of Judas, Who with this notion essay to delude us: That when he relented, And fiercely repented, He was hardly so bad As he commonly had The fortune to be represented?
_David_.
The noblest pity in the earth Is that bestowed on sin. The Great Salvation had its birth That ruth within.
The girl is nearest God, in fact; The boy gives crime its due; She blames the author of the act, And pities too.
Thus, from this strange excess of wrong Her tender heart has caught The noblest truth, the sweetest song, The Saviour taught.
So, more than measured homily, Of sage, or priest, or preacher, Is this wild tale of cruelty Love's gentle teacher.
It tells of sin, its deep remorse, Its fitting recompense, And vindicates the tardy course Of Providence.
These boyish bosoms are on fire With chivalric possession, And burn with just and manly ire Against oppression.
The glory and the grace of life, And Love's surpassing sweetness, Rise from the monster to the wife In high completeness;
And thence look down with mercy's eye On sin's accurst abuses, And seek to wrest from charity Some fair excuses.
_Ruth_.
These greedy mouths are watering For the fruit within the basket; And, although they will not ask it, Their jack-knives all are burning And their eager hands are yearning For the peeling and the quartering. So let us have done with our talk; For they are too tired to say their prayers, And the time is come they should walk From the story below to the story upstairs.
THE THIRD MOVEMENT.
LOCALITY.--_The Kitchen_.
PRESENT.-DAVID, RUTH, JOHN, PETER, PRUDENCE, _and_ PATIENCE,
THE QUESTION ILLUSTRATED BY THE DENOUEMENT.
_John_.
Since the old gentleman retired to bed, Things have gone strangely. David, here, and Ruth, Have wasted thirty minutes underground In explorations. One would think the house Covered the entrance of the Mammoth Cave, And they had lost themselves. Mary and Grace Still hold their chamber and their conference, And pour into each other's greedy ears Their stream of talk, whose low monotonous hum, Would lull to slumber any storm but this. The children are play-tired and gone to bed; And one may know by looking round the room Their place of sport was here. And we, plain folk, Who have no gift of speech, especially On themes which we and none may understand, Have yawned and nodded in the great square room, And wondered if the parted family Would ever meet again.
_Ruth_.
John, do you see The apples and the cider on the hearth? If I remember rightly, you discuss Such themes as these with noticeable zest And pleasant tokens of intelligence; Rather preferring scanty company To the full circle. So, sir, take the lead, And help yourself.
_John_.
Aye! That I will, and give Your welcome invitation currency, In the old-fashioned way. Come! Help yourselves!
_David_.
[_Looking out from the window_.]