Chapter 5
FALK. Yes, to pass current here, Love must have cross'd The great Siberian waste of regulations, Fann'd by no breath of ocean to its cost; It must produce official attestations From friend and kindred, devils of relations, From church curators, organist and clerk, And other fine folks--over and above The primal licence which God gave to Love.-- And then the last great point of likeness;--mark How heavily the hand of culture weighs Upon that far Celestial domain; Its power is shatter'd, and its wall decays, The last true Mandarin's strangled; hands profane Already are put forth to share the spoil; Soon the Sun's realm will be a legend vain, An idle tale incredible to sense; The world is gray in gray--we've flung the soil On buried Faery,--then where can Love be found? Alas, Love also is departed hence! [Lifts his cup. Well let him go, since so the times decree;-- A health to Amor, late of Earth,--in tea! [He drains his cup; indignant murmurs amongst the company.
MISS JAY. A very odd expression! "Dead" indeed!
THE LADIES. To say that Love is dead--!
STRAWMAN. Why, here you see Him sitting, rosy, round and sound, at tea, In all conditions! Here in her sable weed The widow--
MISS JAY. Here a couple, true and tried,--
STIVER. With many ample pledges fortified.
GULDSTAD. The Love's light cavalry, of maid and man, The plighted pairs in order--
STRAWMAN. In the van The veterans, whose troth has laughed to scorn The tooth of Time--
MISS JAY [hastily interrupting]. And then the babes new-born-- The little novices of yester-morn--
STRAWMAN. Spring, summer, autumn, winter, in a word, Are here; the truth is patent, past all doubt, It can be clutched and handled, seen and heard,--
FALK. What then?
MISS JAY. And yet you want to thrust it out!
FALK. Madam, you quite mistake. In all I spoke I cast no doubt on anything you claim; But I would fain remind you that, from smoke, We cannot logically argue flame. That men are married, and have children, I Have no desire whatever to deny; Nor do I dream of doubting that such things Are in the world as troth and wedding-rings; The billets-doux some tender hands indite And seal with pairs of turtle doves that--fight; That sweethearts swarm in cottage and in hall, That chocolate reward the wedding call; That usage and convention have decreed, In every point, how "Lovers" shall proceed:-- But, heavens! We've majors also by the score, Arsenals heaped with muniments of war, With spurs and howitzers and drums and shot, But what does that permit us to infer? That we have men who dangle swords, but not That they will wield the weapons that they wear. Tho' all the plain with gleaming tents you crowd, Does that make heroes of the men they shroud?
STRAWMAN. Well, all in moderation; I must own, It is not quite conducive to the truth That we should paint the enamourment of youth So bright, as if--ahem--it stood alone. Love-making still a frail foundation is. Only the snuggery of wedded bliss Provides a rock where Love may builded be In unassailable security.
MISS JAY. There I entirely differ. In my view, A free accord of lovers, heart with heart, Who hold together, having leave to part, Gives the best warrant that their love is true.
ANNA [warmly]. O no--Love's bound when it is fresh and young Is of a stuff more precious and more strong.
LIND [thoughtfully]. Possibly the ideal flower may blow, Even as that snowdrop,--hidden by the snow.
FALK [with a sudden outburst]. You fallen Adam! There a heart was cleft With longing for the Eden it has left!
LIND. What stuff!
MRS. HALM [offended, to FALK, rising]. 'Tis not a very friendly act To stir a quarrel where we've made a peace. As for your friend's good fortune, be at ease--
SOME LADIES. Nay that's assured--
OTHERS. A very certain fact.
MRS. HALM. The cooking-class at school, I must confess, She did not take; but she shall learn it still.
MISS JAY. With her own hands she's trimming her own dress.
AN AUNT [patting ANNA's hand]. And growing exquisitely sensible.
FALK [laughing aloud]. O parody of sense, that rives and rends In mania dance upon the lips of friends! Was it good sense he wanted? Or a she- Professor of the lore of Cookery? A joyous son of springtime he came here, For the wild rosebud on the bush he burned. You reared the rosebud for him; he returned-- And for his rose found what? The hip!
MISS JAY [offended]. You jeer!
FALK. A useful household condiment, heaven knows! But yet the hip was not his bridal rose.
MRS. HALM. O, if it is a ball-room queen he wants, I'm very sorry; these are not their haunts.
FALK. O yes, I know the pretty coquetry They carry on with "Domesticity." It is a suckling of the mighty Lie That, like hop-tendrils, spreads itself on high. I, madam, reverently bare my head To the ball queen; a child of beauty she-- And the ideal's golden woof is spread In ball-rooms, hardly in the nursery.
MRS. HALM [with suppressed bitterness]. Your conduct, sir is easily explained; A plighted lover cannot be a friend; That is the kernel of the whole affair; I have a very large experience there.
FALK. No doubt,--with seven nieces, each a wife--
MRS. HALM. And each a happy wife--
FALK [with emphasis]. Ah, do we know?
GULDSTAD. How!
MISS JAY. Mr. Falk!
LIND. Are you resolved to sow Dissension?
FALK [vehemently]. Yes, war, discord, turmoil, strife!
STIVER. What you, a lay, profane outsider here!
FALK. No matter, still the battle-flag I'll rear! Yes, it is war I mean with nail and tooth Against the Lie with the tenacious root, The lie that you have fostered into fruit, For all its strutting in the guise of truth!
STIVER. Against these groundless charges I protest, Reserving right of action--
MISS JAY. Do be still!
FALK. So then it is Love's ever-running rill That tells the widow what she once possess'd,-- Out of her language blotted "moan" and "sigh"! So then it is Love's brimming tide that rolls Along the placid veins of wedded souls,-- That very Love that faced the iron sleet, Trampling inane Convention under feet, And scoffing at the impotent discreet! So then it is Love's beauty-kindled flame That keeps the plighted from the taint of time Year after year! Ah yes, the very same That made our young bureaucrat blaze in rhyme! So it is Love's young bliss that will not brave The voyage over vaulted Ocean's wave, But asks a sacrifice when, like the sun, Its face should fill with glory, making one! Ah no, you vulgar prophets of the Lie, Give things the names we ought to know them by; Call widows' passion--wanting what they miss, And wedlock's habit--call it what it is!
STRAWMAN. Young man, this insolence has gone too far! In every word there's scoffing and defiance. [Goes close up to FALK. Now I'll gird up my aged loins to war For hallowed custom against modern science!
FALK. I go to battle as it were a feast!
STRAWMAN. Good! For your bullets I will be a beacon:-- [Nearer. A wedded pair is holy, like a priest--
STIVER [at FALK's other side]. And a betrothed--
FALK. Half-holy, like the deacon.
STRAWMAN. Behold these children;--see,--this little throng! _Io triumphe_ may for them be sung! How was it possible--how practicable--: The words of truth are strong, inexorable--; He has no hearing whom they cannot move. See,--every one of them's a child of Love--! [Stops in confusion. That is--you understand--I would have said--!
MISS JAY [fanning herself with her handkerchief]. This is a very mystical oration!
FALK. There you yourself provide the demonstration,-- A good old Norse one, sound, true-born, home-bred. You draw distinction between wedded pledges And those of Love: your Logic's without flaw. They are distinguished just as roast from raw, As hothouse bloom from wilding of the hedges! Love is with us a science and an art; It long ago since ceased to animate the heart. Love is with us a trade, a special line Of business, with its union, code and sign; It is a guild of married folks and plighted, Past-masters with apprentices united; For they cohere compact as jelly-fishes, A singing-club their single want and wish is--
GULDSTAD. And a gazette!
FALK. A good suggestion, yes! We too must have our organ in the press, Like ladies, athletes, boys, and devotees. Don't ask the price at present, if you please. There I'll parade each amatory fetter That John and Thomas to our town unites, There publish every pink and perfumed letter That William to his tender Jane indites; There you shall read, among "Distressing Scenes"-- Instead of murders and burnt crinolines, The broken matches that the week's afforded; There under "goods for sale" you'll find what firms Will furnish cast-off rings on easy terms; There double, treble births will be recorded; No wedding, but our rallying rub-a-dub Shall drum to the performance all the club; No suit rejected, but we'll set it down, In letters large, with other news of weight Thus: "Amor-Moloch, we regret to state, Has claimed another victim in our town." You'll see, we'll catch subscribers: once in sight Of the propitious season when they bite, By way of throwing them the bait they'll brook I'll stick a nice young man upon my hook. Yes, you will see me battle for our cause, With tiger's, nay with editorial, claws Rending them--
GULDSTAD. And the paper's name will be--?
FALK. Amor's Norse Chronicle of Archery.
STIVER [going nearer]. You're not in earnest, you will never stake Your name and fame for such a fancy's sake!
FALK. I'm in grim earnest. We are often told Men cannot live on love; I'll show that this Is an untenable hypothesis; For Love will prove to be a mine of gold: Particularly if Miss Jay, perhaps, Will Mr. Strawman's "Life's Romance" unfold, As appetising feuilleton, in scraps.
STRAWMAN [in terror]. Merciful heaven! My "life's romance!" What, what! When was my life romantic, if you please?
MISS JAY. I never said so.
STIVER. Witness disagrees.
STRAWMAN. That I have ever swerved a single jot From social prescript,--is a monstrous lie.
FALK. Good. [Clapping STIVER on the shoulder. Here's a friend who will not put me by. We'll start with Stiver's lyric ecstasies.
STIVER [after a glance of horror at STRAWMAN]. Are you quite mad! Nay then I must be heard! You dare accuse me for a poet--
MISS JAY. How--!
FALK. Your office has averred it anyhow.
STIVER [in towering anger]. Sir, by our office nothing is averred.
FALK. Well, leave me then, you also: I have by me One comrade yet whose loyalty will last. "A true heart's story" Lind will not deny me, Whose troth's too tender for the ocean blast, Who for his mistress makes surrender of His fellow-men--pure quintessence of Love!
MRS. HALM. My patience, Mr. Falk, is now worn out. The same abode no longer can receive us:-- I beg of you this very day to leave us--
FALK [with a bow as MRS. HALM and the company withdraw]. That this would come I never had a doubt!
STRAWMAN. Between us two there's a battle to the death; You've slandered me, my wife, my little flock, From Molly down to Millie, in one breath. Crow on, crow on--Emancipation's cock,-- [Goes in followed by his wife and children.
FALK. And go you on observing Peter's faith To Love your lord--who, thanks to your advice, Was thrice denied before the cock crew thrice!
MISS JAY [turning faint]. Attend me, Stiver! help me get unlaced My corset--this way, this way--do make haste!
STIVER [to FALK as he withdraws with MISS JAY on his arm]. I here renounce your friendship.
LIND. I likewise.
FALK [seriously]. You too, my Lind?
LIND. Farewell.
FALK. You were my nearest one--
LIND. No help, it is the pleasure of my dearest one.
[He goes in: SVANHILD has remained standing on the verandah steps.
FALK. So, now I've made a clearance, have free course In all directions!
SVANHILD. Falk, one word with you!
FALK [pointing politely to the house]. That way, Miss Halm;--that way, with all the force Of aunts and inmates, Mrs. Halm withdrew.
SVANHILD [nearer him]. Let them withdraw; their ways and mine divide; I will not swell the number of their band.
FALK. You'll stay?
SVANHILD. If you make war on lies, I stand A trusty armour-bearer by your side.
FALK. You, Svanhild, you who--
SVANHILD. I, who--yesterday--? Were you yourself, Falk, yesterday the same? You bade me be a sallow, for your play.
FALK. And a sweet sallow sang me into shame. No, you are right: I was a child to ask; But you have fired me to a nobler task. Right in the midst of men the Church is founded Where Truth's appealing clarion must be sounded We are not called, like demigods, to gaze on The battle from the far-off mountain's crest, But in our hearts to bear our fiery blazon, An Olaf's cross upon a mailed breast,-- To look afar across the fields of flight, Tho' pent within the mazes of its might,-- Beyond the mirk descry one glimmer still Of glory--that's the Call we must fulfil.
SVANHILD. And you'll fulfil it when you break from men, Stand free, alone,--
FALK. Did I frequent them then? And there lies duty. No, that time's gone by,-- My solitary compact with the sky. My four-wall-chamber poetry is done; My verse shall live in forest and in field, I'll fight under the splendour of the sun;-- I or the Lie--one of us two must yield!
SVANHILD. Then forth with God from Verse to Derring-doe! I did you wrong: you have a feeling heart; Forgive me,--and as good friends let us part--
FALK. Nay, in my future there is room for two! We part not. Svanhild, if you dare decide, We'll battle on together side by side.
SVANHILD. We battle?
FALK. See, I have no friend, no mate, By all abandoned, I make war on all: At me they aim the piercing shafts of hate; Say, do you dare with me to stand or fall? Henceforth along the beaten walks I'll move Heedful of each constraining etiquette; Spread, like the rest of men, my board, and set The ring upon the finger of love! [Takes a ring from his finger and holds it up.
SVANHILD [in breathless suspense]. You mean that?
FALK. Yes, by us the world will see, Love has an everlasting energy, That suffers not its splendour to take hurt From the day's dust, the common highway's dirt. Last night I showed you the ideal aflame, Beaconing from a dizzy mountain's brow. You shuddered, for you were a woman,--now I show you woman's veritable aim;-- A soul like yours, what it has vowed, will keep. You see the abyss before you, Svanhild, leap!
SVANHILD [almost inaudibly]. If we should fail--?
FALK [exulting]. No, in your eyes I see A gleam that surely prophesies our winning!
SVANHILD. Then take me as I am, take all of me! Now buds the young leaf; now my spring's beginning!
[She flings herself boldly into his arms as the curtain falls.
ACT THIRD.
Evening. Bright moonlight. Coloured lanterns are hung about the trees. In the background are covered tables with bottles, glasses, biscuits, etc. From the house, which is lighted up from top to bottom, subdued music and singing are heard during the following scene. SVANHILD stands on the verandah. FALK comes from the right with some books and a portfolio under his arm. The PORTER follows with a portmanteau and knapsack.
FALK. That's all, then?
PORTER. Yes, sir, all is in the pack, But just a satchel, and the paletot.
FALK. Good; when I go, I'll take them on my back. Now off. See, this is the portfolio.
PORTER. It's locked, I see.
FALK. Locked, Peter.
PORTER. Good, sir.
FALK. Pray, Make haste and burn it.
PORTER. Burn it?
FALK. Yes, to ash-- [Smiling. With every draft upon poetic cash; As for the books, you're welcome to them.
PORTER. Nay, Such payment is above a poor man's earning. But, sir, I'm thinking, if you can bestow Your books, you must have done with all your learning?
FALK. Whatever can be learnt from books I know, And rather more.
PORTER. More? Nay, that's hard I doubt!
FALK. Well, now be off; the carriers wait without. Just help them load the barrow ere you go. [The PORTER goes out to the left.
FALK [approaching SVANHILD who comes to meet him]. One moment's ours, my Svanhild, in the light Of God and of the lustrous summer night. How the stars glitter thro' the leafage, see, Like bright fruit hanging on the great world-tree. Now slavery's last manacle I slip, Now for the last time feel the wealing whip; Like Israel at the Passover I stand, Loins girded for the desert, staff in hand. Dull generation, from whose sight is hid The Promised Land beyond that desert flight, Thrall tricked with knighthood, never the more knight, Tomb thyself kinglike in the Pyramid,-- I cross the barren desert to be free. My ship strides on despite an ebbing sea; But there the Legion Lie shall find its doom, And glut one deep, dark, hollow-vaulted tomb. [A short pause; he looks at her and takes her hand. You are so still!
SVANHILD. So happy! Suffer me, O suffer me in silence still to dream. Speak you for me; my budding thoughts, grown strong, One after one will burgeon into song, Like lilies in the bosom of the stream.
FALK. O say it once again, in truth's pure tone Beyond the fear of doubt, that thou art mine! O say it, Svanhild, say--
SVANHILD [throwing herself on his neck]. Yes, I am thine!
FALK. Thou singing-bird God sent me for my own!
SVANHILD. Homeless within my mother's house I dwelt, Lonely in all I thought, in all I felt, A guest unbidden at the feast of mirth,-- Accounted nothing--less than nothing--worth. Then you appeared! For the first time I heard My own thought uttered in another's word; To my lame visions you gave wings and feet-- You young unmasker of the Obsolete! Half with your caustic keenness you alarmed me, Half with your radiant eloquence you charmed me, As sea-girt forests summon with their spell The sea their flinty beaches still repel. Now I have read the bottom of your soul, Now you have won me, undivided, whole; Dear forest, where my tossing billows beat, My tide's at flood and never will retreat!
FALK. And I thank God that in the bath of Pain He purged my love. What strong compulsion drew Me on I knew not, till I saw in you The treasure I had blindly sought in vain. I praise Him, who our love has lifted thus To noble rank by sorrow,--licensed us To a triumphal progress, bade us sweep Thro' fen and forest to our castle-keep, A noble pair, astride on Pegasus!
SVANHILD [pointing to the house]. The whole house, see, is making feast to-night. There, in their honour, every room's alight, There cheerful talk and joyous song ring out; On the highroad no passer-by will doubt That men are happy where they are so gay. [With compassion. Poor sister!--happy in the great world's way!
FALK. "Poor" sister, say you?
SVANHILD. Has she not divided With kith and kin the treasure of her soul, Her capital to fifty hands confided, So that not one is debtor for the whole? From no one has she all things to receive, For no one has she utterly to live. O beside my wealth hers is little worth; I have but one possession upon earth. My heart was lordless when with trumpet blare And multitudinous song you came, its king, The banners of my thought your ensign bear, You fill my soul with glory, like the spring. Yes, I must needs thank God, when it is past, That I was lonely till I found out thee,-- That I lay dead until the trumpet blast Waken'd me from the world's frivolity.
FALK. Yes we, who have no friends on earth, we twain Own the true wealth, the golden fortune,--we Who stand without, beside the starlit sea, And watch the indoor revel thro' the pane. Let the lamp glitter and the song resound, Let the dance madly eddy round and round;-- Look up, my Svanhild, into yon deep blue,-- There glitter little lamps in thousands, too--
SVANHILD. And hark, beloved, thro' the limes there floats This balmy eve a chorus of sweet notes--
FALK. It is for us that fretted vault's aglow--
SVANHILD. It is for us the vale is loud below!
FALK. I feel myself like God's lost prodigal; I left Him for the world's delusive charms. With mild reproof He wooed me to His arms; And when I come, He lights the vaulted hall, Prepares a banquet for the son restored, And makes His noblest creature my reward. From this time forth I'll never leave that Light,-- But stand its armed defender in the fight; Nothing shall part us, and our life shall prove A song of glory to triumphant love!
SVANHILD. And see how easy triumph is for two, When He's a man--
FALK. She, woman thro' and thro';-- It is impossible for such to fall!
SVANHILD. Then up, and to the war with want and sorrow; This very hour I will declare it all! [Pointing to FALK's ring on her finger.
FALK [hastily]. No, Svanhild, not to-night, wait till to-morrow! To-night we gather our young love's red rose; 'Twere sacrilege to smirch it with the prose Of common day. [The door into the garden-room opens. Your mother's coming! Hide! No eye this night shall see thee as my bride!
[They go out among the trees by the summer-house. MRS. HALM and GULDSTAD come out on the balcony.
MRS. HALM. He's really going?
GULDSTAD. Seems so, I admit.
STIVER [coming]. He's going, madam!
MRS. HALM. We're aware of it!
STIVER. A most unfortunate punctilio. He'll keep his word; his stubbornness I know. In the Gazette he'll put us all by name; My love will figure under leaded headings, With jilts, and twins, and countermanded weddings. Listen; I tell you, if it weren't for shame, I would propose an armistice, a truce--
MRS. HALM. You think he would be willing?
STIVER. I deduce The fact from certain signs, which indicate That his tall talk about his Amor's News Was uttered in a far from sober state. One proof especially, if not transcendent, Yet tells most heavily against defendant: It has been clearly proved that after dinner To his and Lind's joint chamber he withdrew, And there displayed such singular demeanour As leaves no question--
GULDSTAD. [Sees a glimpse of FALK and SVANHILD, who separate, Falk going to the background; SVANHILD remains standing hidden by the summer-house. Hold, we have the clue! Madam, one word!--Falk does not mean to go, Or if he does, he means it as a friend.
STIVER. How, you believe then--?
MRS. HALM. What do you intend?
GULDSTAD. With the least possible delay I'll show That matters move precisely as you would. Merely a word in private--
MRS. HALM. Very good.
[They go together into the garden and are seen from time to time in lively conversation.