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 battle to the death;
You’ve slandered me, my wife, nay 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 to 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.
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.
Eight 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 Derringdoe!
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 my love!
[_Takes a ring from his finger and holds it up._
SVANHILD [in breathless suspense].
You mean _that_?
FALK.
Yes, by us the world shall 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 a 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._
STIVER.
[_Descending into the garden discovers_ FALK, _who
is standing by the water and gazing over it._
These poets are mere men of vengeance, we
State servants understand diplomacy.
I need to labour for myself—
[_Seeing_ STRAWMAN, _who enters from the garden-room._
Well met!
STRAWMAN [_on the verandah_].
He’s really leaving!
[_Going down to_ STIVER.
Ah, my dear sir, let
Me beg you just a moment to go in
And hold my wife—
STIVER.
I—hold her, sir?
STRAWMAN.
I mean
In talk. The little ones and we are so
Unused to be divided, there is no
Escaping—
[_His wife and children appear in the door._
Ha! already on my trail.
MRS. STRAWMAN.
Where are you, Strawman?
STRAWMAN [_aside to_ STIVER].
Do invent some tale,
Something amusing—something to beguile!
STIVER [_going on to the verandah_].
Pray, madam, have you read the official charge?
A masterpiece of literary style.
[_Takes a book from his pocket._
Which I shall now proceed to cite at large.
[_Ushers her politely into the room, and follows
himself._ FALK _comes forward; he and_ STRAWMAN
_meet; they regard one another a moment in
silence._
STRAWMAN.
Well?
FALK.
Well?
STRAWMAN.
Falk!
FALK.
Pastor!
STRAWMAN.
Are you less
Intractable than when we parted?
FALK.
Nay,
I go my own inexorable way—
STRAWMAN.
Even tho’ you crush another’s happiness?
FALK.
I plant the flower of knowledge in its place.
[_Smiling._
If, by the way, you have not ceased to think
Of the Gazette—
STRAWMAN.
Ah, that was all a joke?
FALK.
Yes, pluck up courage, that will turn to smoke;
I break the ice in action, not in ink.
STRAWMAN.
But even though you spare me, sure enough
There’s one who won’t so lightly let me off;
He has the advantage, and he won’t forego it,
That lawyer’s clerk—and ’tis to you I owe it;
You raked the ashes of our faded flames,
And you may take your oath he won’t be still
If once I mutter but a syllable
Against the brazen bluster of his claims.
These civil-service gentlemen, they say,
Are very potent in the press to-day.
A trumpery paragraph can lay me low,
Once printed in that Samson-like Gazette
That with the jaw of asses fells its foe,
And runs away with tackle and with net,
Especially towards the quarter day—
FALK [_acquiescing_].
Ah, were there scandal in the case, indeed—
STRAWMAN [_despondently_].
No matter. Read its columns with good heed,
You’ll see me offered up to Vengeance.
FALK [_whimsically_].
Nay,
To retribution—well-earned punishment.
Thro’ all our life there runs a Nemesis,
Which may delay, but never will relent,
And grants to none exception or release.
Who wrongs the Ideal? Straight there rushes in
The Press, its guardian with the Argus eye,
And the offender suffers for his sin.
STRAWMAN.
But in the name of heaven, what pledge have I
Given this “Ideal” that’s ever on your tongue?
I’m married, have a family, twelve young
And helpless innocents to clothe and keep;
I have my daily calls on every side,
Churches remote and glebe and pasture wide,
Great herds of breeding cattle, ghostly sheep—
All to be watched and cared for, clipt and fed,
Grain to be winnowed, compost to be spread;—
Wanted all day in shippon and in stall,
What time have _I_ to serve the “Ideal” withal?
FALK.
Then get you home with what dispatch you may,
Creep snugly in before the winter-cold;
Look, in young Norway dawns at last the day,
Thousand brave hearts are in its ranks enroll’d,
Its banners in the morning breezes play!
STRAWMAN.
And if, young man, I were to take my way
With bag and baggage home, with everything
That made me yesterday a little king,
Were mine the only _volte face_ to-day?
Think you I carry back the wealth I brought?
[_As FALK is about to answer._
Nay, listen, let me first explain my thought.
[_Coming nearer._
Time was when I was young, like you, and played
Like you, the unconquerable Titan’s part;
Year after year I toiled and moiled for bread,
Which hardens a man’s hand, but not his heart.
For northern fells my lonely home surrounded,
And by my parish bounds my world was bounded.
My home—Ah, Falk, I wonder, do you know
What home is?
FALK [_curtly_].
I have never known.
STRAWMAN.
Just so.
That is a home, where five may dwell with ease,
Tho’ two would be a crowd, if enemies.
That is a home, where all your thoughts play free
As boys and girls about their father’s knee,
Where speech no sooner touches heart, than tongue
Darts back an answering harmony of song;
Where you may grow from flax-haired snowy-polled,
And not a soul take note that you grow old;
Where memories grow fairer as they fade,
Like far blue peaks beyond the forest glade.
FALK [_with constrained sarcasm_].
Come, you grow warm—
STRAWMAN.
Where you but jeered and flouted.
So utterly unlike God made us two!
I’m bare of that he lavished upon you.
But I have won the game where you were routed.
Seen from the clouds, full many a wayside grain
Of truth seems empty chaff and husks. You’d soar
To heaven, I scarcely reach the stable door,
One bird’s an eagle born—
FALK.
And one a hen.
STRAWMAN.
Yes, laugh away, and say it be so, grant
I am a hen. There clusters to my cluck
A crowd of little chickens,—which you want!
And I’ve the hen’s high spirit and her pluck,
And for my little ones forget myself.
You think me dull, I know it. Possibly
You pass a harsher judgment yet, decree
Me over covetous of worldly pelf.
Good, on that head we will not disagree.
[_Seizes FALK’S arm and continues in a low tone but
with gathering vehemence._
You’re right, I’m dull and dense and grasping, yes;
But grasping for my God-given babes and wife,
And dense from struggling blindly for bare life,
And dull from sailing seas of loneliness.
Just when the pinnace of my youthful dream
Into the everlasting deep went down,
Another started from the ocean stream
Borne with a fair wind onward to life’s crown.
For every dream that vanished in the wave,
For every buoyant plume that broke asunder,
God sent me in return a little Wonder,
And gratefully I took the good He gave.
For them I strove, for them amassed, annexed,—
For them, for them, explained the Holy text;
My clustering girls, my garden of delight!
On them you’ve poured the venom of your spite!
You’ve proved, with all the cunning of the schools,
My bliss was but the paradise of fools,
That all I took for earnest was a jest;—
Now I implore, give me my quiet breast
Again, the flawless peace of mind I had—
FALK.
Prove, in a word, your title to be glad?
STRAWMAN.
Yes, in my path you’ve cast the stone of doubt,
And nobody but you can cast it out.
Between my kin and me you’ve set a bar,—
Remove the bar, the strangling noose undo—
FALK.
You possibly believe I keep the glue
Of lies for Happiness’s broken jar?
STRAWMAN.
I do believe, the faith your reasons tore
To shreds, your reasons may again restore;
The limb that you have shatter’d, you can set;
Reverse your judgment,—the whole truth unfold,
Restate the case—I’ll fly my banner yet—
FALK [_haughtily_].
I stamp no copper Happiness as gold.
STRAWMAN [_looking fixedly at him_].
Remember then that, lately, one whose scent
For truth is of the keenest told us this:
[_With uplifted finger._
“There runs through all our life a Nemesis,
Which may delay, but never will relent.”
[_He goes towards the house._
STIVER.
[_Coming out with glasses on, and an open book in
his hand._
Pastor, you must come flying like the blast!
Your girls are sobbing—
THE CHILDREN [_in the doorway_].
Pa!
STIVER.
And Madam waiting!
[_STRAWMAN goes in._
This lady has no talent for debating.
[_Puts the book and glasses in his pocket, and
approaches_ FALK.
Falk!
FALK.
Yes!
STIVER.
I hope you’ve changed your mind at last?
FALK.
Why so?
STIVER.
For obvious reasons. To betray
Communications made in confidence,
Is conduct utterly without defence.
They must not pass the lips.
FALK.
No, I’ve heard say
It is at times a risky game to play.
STIVER.
The very devil!
FALK.
Only for the great.
STIVER [_zealously_].
No, no, for all us servants of the state.
Only imagine how my future chances
Would dwindle, if the governor once knew
I keep a Pegasus that neighs and prances
In office hours—and such an office, too!
From first to last, you know, in our profession,
The winged horse is viewed with reprobation:
But worst of all would be, if it got wind
That I against our primal law had sinn’d
By bringing secret matters to the light—
FALK.
That’s penal, is it—such an oversight?
STIVER [_mysteriously_].
It can a servant of the state compel
To beg for his dismissal out of hand.
On us officials lies a strict command,
Even by the hearth to be inscrutable.
FALK.
O those despotical authorities,
Muzzling the—clerk that treadeth out the grain!
STIVER [_shrugging his shoulders_].
It is the law; to murmur is in vain.
Moreover, at a moment such as this,
When salary revision is in train,
It is not well to advertise one’s views
Of office time’s true function and right use.
That’s why I beg you to be silent; look,
A word may forfeit my—
FALK.
Portfolio?
STIVER.
Officially it’s called a transcript book;
A protocol’s the clasp upon the veil of snow
That shrouds the modest breast of the Bureau.
What lies beneath you must not seek to know.
FALK.
And yet I only spoke at your desire;
You hinted at your literary crop.
STIVER.
How should I guess he’d grovel in the mire
So deep, this parson perch’d on fortune’s top,
A man with snug appointments, children, wife,
And money to defy the ills of life?
If such a man prove such a Philistine,
What shall of us poor copyists be said?
Of me, who drive the quill and rule the line,
A man engaged and shortly to be wed,
With family in prospect—and so forth?
[_More vehemently._
O, if I only had a well-lined berth,
I’d bind the armour’d helmet on my head,
And cry defiance to united earth!
And were I only unengaged like you,
Trust me, I’d break a road athwart the snow
Of Prose, and carry the Ideal through!
FALK.
To work then, man!
STIVER.
How?
FALK.
You may still do so!
Let the world’s prudish owl unheeded flutter by;
Freedom converts the grub into a butterfly!
STIVER [_stepping back_].
You mean, to break the engagement—?
FALK.
That’s my mind;—
The fruit is gone, why keep the empty rind?
STIVER.
Such a proposal’s for a green young shoot,
Not for a man of judgment and repute.
I heed not what King Christian in his time
(The Fifth) laid down about engagements broken-off;
For that relationship is nowhere spoken of
In any rubric of the code of crime.
The act would not be criminal in name,
It would in no way violate the laws—
FALK.
Why there, you see then!
STIVER [_firmly_].
Yes, but all the same,—
I must reject all pleas in such a cause.
Staunch comrades we have been in times of dearth;
Of life’s disport she asks but little share,
And I’m a homely fellow, long aware
God made me for the ledger and the hearth.
Let others emulate the eagle’s flight,
Life in the lowly plains may be as bright.
What does his Excellency Goethe say
About the white and shining milky way?
Man may not there the milk of fortune skim,
Nor is the butter of it meant for him.
FALK.
Why, even were fortune-churning our life’s goal,
The labour must be guided by the soul;—
Be citizens of the time that is—but then
Make the time worthy of the citizen.
In homely things lurks beauty, without doubt,
But watchful eye and brain must draw it out.
Not every man who loves the soil he turns
May therefore claim to be another Burns.
STIVER.
Then let us each our proper path pursue,
And part in peace; we shall not hamper you;
We keep the road, you hover in the sky,
There where we too once floated, she and I.
But work, not song, provides our daily bread,
And when a man’s alive, his music’s dead.
A young man’s life’s a lawsuit, and the most
Superfluous litigation in existence:
Withdraw, make terms, abandon all resistance:
Plead where and how you will, your suit is lost.
FALK [_bold and confident, with a glance at the
summer-house_].
Nay, tho’ I took it to the highest place,—
Judgment, I know, would be reversed by grace!
I know two hearts can live a life complete,
With hope still ardent, and with faith still sweet;
You preach the wretched gospel of the hour,
That the Ideal is secondary!
STIVER.
No!
It’s primary: appointed, like the flower,
To generate the fruit, and then to go.
[_Indoors_, MISS JAY _plays and sings: “In the
Gloaming.”_ STIVER _stands listening in silent
emotion._
With the same melody she calls me yet
Which thrilled me to the heart when first we met.
[_Lays his hand on FALK’S arm and gazes intently at
him._