The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth - (Edited by William Knight)
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OSWALD Remorse--
It cannot live with thought; think on, think on,
And it will die. What! in this universe,
Where the least things control the greatest, where
The faintest breath that breathes can move a world;
What! feel remorse, where, if a cat had sneezed,
A leaf had fallen, the thing had never been
Whose very shadow gnaws us to the vitals.
MARMADUKE Now, whither are you wandering? That a man
So used to suit his language to the time,
Should thus so widely differ from himself--
It is most strange.
OSWALD Murder!--what's in the word!--
I have no cases by me ready made
To fit all deeds. Carry him to the Camp!--
A shallow project;--you of late have seen
More deeply, taught us that the institutes
Of Nature, by a cunning usurpation
Banished from human intercourse, exist
Only in our relations to the brutes
That make the fields their dwelling. If a snake
Crawl from beneath our feet we do not ask
A license to destroy him: our good governors
Hedge in the life of every pest and plague
That bears the shape of man; and for what purpose,
But to protect themselves from extirpation?--
This flimsy barrier you have overleaped.
MARMADUKE My Office is fulfilled--the Man is now
Delivered to the Judge of all things.
OSWALD
Dead!
MARMADUKE I have borne my burthen to its destined end.
OSWALD This instant we'll return to our Companions--
Oh how I long to see their faces again!
[Enter IDONEA with Pilgrims who continue their journey.]
IDONEA (after some time)
What, Marmaduke! now thou art mine for ever.
And Oswald, too!
(To MARMADUKE.) On will we to my Father
With the glad tidings which this day hath brought;
We'll go together, and, such proof received
Of his own rights restored, his gratitude
To God above will make him feel for ours.
OSWALD I interrupt you?
IDONEA Think not so.
MARMADUKE Idonea,
That I should ever live to see this moment!
IDONEA Forgive me.--Oswald knows it all--he knows,
Each word of that unhappy letter fell
As a blood drop from my heart.
OSWALD 'Twas even so.
MARMADUKE I have much to say, but for whose ear?--not thine.
IDONEA Ill can I bear that look--Plead for me, Oswald!
You are my Father's Friend.
(To MARMADUKE.) Alas, you know not,
And never _can_ you know, how much he loved me.
Twice had he been to me a father, twice
Had given me breath, and was I not to be
His daughter, once his daughter? could I withstand
His pleading face, and feel his clasping arms,
And hear his prayer that I would not forsake him
In his old age--
[Hides her face.]
MARMADUKE Patience--Heaven grant me patience!--
She weeps, she weeps--_my_ brain shall burn for hours
Ere _I_ can shed a tear.
IDONEA I was a woman;
And, balancing the hopes that are the dearest
To womankind with duty to my Father,
I yielded up those precious hopes, which nought
On earth could else have wrested from me;--if erring,
Oh let me be forgiven!
MARMADUKE I _do_ forgive thee.
IDONEA But take me to your arms--this breast, alas!
It throbs, and you have a heart that does not feel it.
MARMADUKE (exultingly)
She is innocent. [He embraces her.]
OSWALD (aside)
Were I a Moralist,
I should make wondrous revolution here;
It were a quaint experiment to show
The beauty of truth-- [Addressing them.]
I see I interrupt you;
I shall have business with you, Marmaduke;
Follow me to the Hostel.
[Exit OSWALD.]
IDONEA Marmaduke,
This is a happy day. My Father soon
Shall sun himself before his native doors;
The lame, the hungry, will be welcome there.
No more shall he complain of wasted strength,
Of thoughts that fail, and a decaying heart;
His good works will be balm and life to him.
MARMADUKE This is most strange!--I know not what it was,
But there was something which most plainly said,
That thou wert innocent.
IDONEA How innocent!--
Oh heavens! you've been deceived.
MARMADUKE Thou art a Woman
To bring perdition on the universe.
IDONEA Already I've been punished to the height
Of my offence.
[Smiling affectionately.]
I see you love me still,
The labours of my hand are still your joy;
Bethink you of the hour when on your shoulder
I hung this belt.
[Pointing to the belt on which was suspended HERBERT'S scrip.]
MARMADUKE Mercy of Heaven! [Sinks.]
IDONEA What ails you? [Distractedly.]
MARMADUKE The scrip that held his food, and I forgot
To give it back again!
IDONEA What mean your words?
MARMADUKE I know not what I said--all may be well.
IDONEA That smile hath life in it!
MARMADUKE This road is perilous;
I will attend you to a Hut that stands
Near the wood's edge--rest there to-night, I pray you:
For me, I have business, as you heard, with Oswald,
But will return to you by break of day.
[Exeunt.]
ACT IV
SCENE--A desolate prospect--a ridge of rocks--a Chapel on the summit of
one--Moon behind the rocks--night stormy--irregular sound of a
bell--HERBERT enters exhausted.
HERBERT That Chapel-bell in mercy seemed to guide me,
But now it mocks my steps; its fitful stroke
Can scarcely be the work of human hands.
Hear me, ye Men, upon the cliffs, if such
There be who pray nightly before the Altar.
Oh that I had but strength to reach the place!
My Child--my Child--dark--dark--I faint--this wind--
These stifling blasts--God help me!
[Enter ELDRED.]
ELDRED Better this bare rock,
Though it were tottering over a man's head,
Than a tight case of dungeon walls for shelter
From such rough dealing.
[A moaning voice is heard.]
Ha! what sound is that?
Trees creaking in the wind (but none are here)
Send forth such noises--and that weary bell!
Surely some evil Spirit abroad to-night
Is ringing it--'twould stop a Saint in prayer,
And that--what is it? never was sound so like
A human groan. Ha! what is here? Poor Man--
Murdered! alas! speak--speak, I am your friend:
No answer--hush--lost wretch, he lifts his hand
And lays it to his heart--
(Kneels to him.) I pray you speak!
What has befallen you?
HERBERT (feebly)
A stranger has done this,
And in the arms of a stranger I must die.
ELDRED Nay, think not so: come, let me raise you up:
[Raises him.]
This is a dismal place--well--that is well--
I was too fearful--take me for your guide
And your support--my hut is not far off.
[Draws him gently off the stage.]
SCENE--A room in the Hostel--MARMADUKE and OSWALD
MARMADUKE But for Idonea!--I have cause to think
That she is innocent.
OSWALD Leave that thought awhile,
As one of those beliefs which in their hearts
Lovers lock up as pearls, though oft no better
Than feathers clinging to their points of passion.
This day's event has laid on me the duty
Of opening out my story; you must hear it,
And without further preface.--In my youth,
Except for that abatement which is paid
By envy as a tribute to desert,
I was the pleasure of all hearts, the darling
Of every tongue--as you are now. You've heard
That I embarked for Syria. On our voyage
Was hatched among the crew a foul Conspiracy
Against my honour, in the which our Captain
Was, I believed, prime Agent. The wind fell;
We lay becalmed week after week, until
The water of the vessel was exhausted;
I felt a double fever in my veins,
Yet rage suppressed itself;--to a deep stillness
Did my pride tame my pride;--for many days,
On a dead sea under a burning sky,
I brooded o'er my injuries, deserted
By man and nature;--if a breeze had blown,
It might have found its way into my heart,
And I had been--no matter--do you mark me?
MARMADUKE Quick--to the point--if any untold crime
Doth haunt your memory.
OSWALD Patience, hear me further!--
One day in silence did we drift at noon
By a bare rock, narrow, and white, and bare;
No food was there, no drink, no grass, no shade,
No tree, nor jutting eminence, nor form
Inanimate large as the body of man,
Nor any living thing whose lot of life
Might stretch beyond the measure of one moon.
To dig for water on the spot, the Captain
Landed with a small troop, myself being one:
There I reproached him with his treachery.
Imperious at all times, his temper rose;
He struck me; and that instant had I killed him,
And put an end to his insolence, but my Comrades
Rushed in between us: then did I insist
(All hated him, and I was stung to madness)
That we should leave him there, alive!--we did so.
MARMADUKE And he was famished?
OSWALD Naked was the spot;
Methinks I see it now--how in the sun
Its stony surface glittered like a shield;
And in that miserable place we left him,
Alone but for a swarm of minute creatures
Not one of which could help him while alive,
Or mourn him dead.
MARMADUKE A man by men cast off,
Left without burial! nay, not dead nor dying,
But standing, walking, stretching forth his arms,
In all things like ourselves, but in the agony
With which he called for mercy; and--even so--
He was forsaken?
OSWALD There is a power in sounds:
The cries he uttered might have stopped the boat
That bore us through the water--
MARMADUKE You returned
Upon that dismal hearing--did you not?
OSWALD Some scoffed at him with hellish mockery,
And laughed so loud it seemed that the smooth sea
Did from some distant region echo us.
MARMADUKE We all are of one blood, our veins are filled
At the same poisonous fountain!
OSWALD 'Twas an island
Only by sufferance of the winds and waves,
Which with their foam could cover it at will.
I know not how he perished; but the calm,
The same dead calm, continued many days.
MARMADUKE
But his own crime had brought on him this doom,
His wickedness prepared it; these expedients
Are terrible, yet ours is not the fault.
OSWALD The man was famished, and was innocent!
MARMADUKE Impossible!
OSWALD The man had never wronged me.
MARMADUKE Banish the thought, crush it, and be at peace.
His guilt was marked--these things could never be
Were there not eyes that see, and for good ends,
Where ours are baffled.
OSWALD I had been deceived.
MARMADUKE And from that hour the miserable man
No more was heard of?
OSWALD I had been betrayed.
MARMADUKE And he found no deliverance!
OSWALD The Crew
Gave me a hearty welcome; they had laid
The plot to rid themselves, at any cost,
Of a tyrannic Master whom they loathed.
So we pursued our voyage: when we landed,
The tale was spread abroad; my power at once
Shrunk from me; plans and schemes, and lofty hopes--
All vanished. I gave way--do you attend?
MARMADUKE The Crew deceived you?
OSWALD Nay, command yourself.
MARMADUKE It is a dismal night--how the wind howls!
OSWALD I hid my head within a Convent, there
Lay passive as a dormouse in mid winter.
That was no life for me--I was o'erthrown
But not destroyed.
MARMADUKE The proofs--you ought to have seen
The guilt--have touched it--felt it at your heart--
As I have done.
OSWALD A fresh tide of Crusaders
Drove by the place of my retreat: three nights
Did constant meditation dry my blood;
Three sleepless nights I passed in sounding on,
Through words and things, a dim and perilous way;
And, wheresoe'er I turned me, I beheld
A slavery compared to which the dungeon
And clanking chains are perfect liberty.
You understand me--I was comforted;
I saw that every possible shape of action
Might lead to good--I saw it and burst forth
Thirsting for some of those exploits that fill
The earth for sure redemption of lost peace.
[Marking MARMADUKE'S countenance.]
Nay, you have had the worst. Ferocity
Subsided in a moment, like a wind
That drops down dead out of a sky it vexed.
And yet I had within me evermore
A salient spring of energy; I mounted
From action up to action with a mind
That never rested--without meat or drink
Have I lived many days--my sleep was bound
To purposes of reason--not a dream
But had a continuity and substance
That waking life had never power to give.
MARMADUKE O wretched Human-kind!--Until the mystery
Of all this world is solved, well may we envy
The worm, that, underneath a stone whose weight
Would crush the lion's paw with mortal anguish,
Doth lodge, and feed, and coil, and sleep, in safety.
Fell not the wrath of Heaven upon those traitors?
OSWALD Give not to them a thought. From Palestine
We marched to Syria: oft I left the Camp,
When all that multitude of hearts was still,
And followed on, through woods of gloomy cedar,
Into deep chasms troubled by roaring streams;
Or from the top of Lebanon surveyed
The moonlight desert, and the moonlight sea:
In these my lonely wanderings I perceived
What mighty objects do impress their forms
To elevate our intellectual being;
And felt, if aught on earth deserves a curse,
'Tis that worst principle of ill which dooms
A thing so great to perish self-consumed.
--So much for my remorse!
MARMADUKE Unhappy Man!
OSWALD When from these forms I turned to contemplate
The World's opinions and her usages,
I seemed a Being who had passed alone
Into a region of futurity,
Whose natural element was freedom--
MARMADUKE Stop--
I may not, cannot, follow thee.
OSWALD You must.
I had been nourished by the sickly food
Of popular applause. I now perceived
That we are praised, only as men in us
Do recognise some image of themselves,
An abject counterpart of what they are,
Or the empty thing that they would wish to be.
I felt that merit has no surer test
Than obloquy; that, if we wish to serve
The world in substance, not deceive by show,
We must become obnoxious to its hate,
Or fear disguised in simulated scorn.
MARMADUKE I pity, can forgive, you; but those wretches--
That monstrous perfidy!
OSWALD Keep down your wrath.
False Shame discarded, spurious Fame despised,
Twin sisters both of Ignorance, I found
Life stretched before me smooth as some broad way
Cleared for a monarch's progress. Priests might spin
Their veil, but not for me--'twas in fit place
Among its kindred cobwebs. I had been,
And in that dream had left my native land,
One of Love's simple bondsmen--the soft chain
Was off for ever; and the men, from whom
This liberation came, you would destroy:
Join me in thanks for their blind services.
MARMADUKE 'Tis a strange aching that, when we would curse
And cannot.--You have betrayed me--I have done--
I am content--I know that he is guiltless--
That both are guiltless, without spot or stain,
Mutually consecrated. Poor old Man!
And I had heart for this, because thou lovedst
Her who from very infancy had been
Light to thy path, warmth to thy blood!--Together
[Turning to OSWALD.]
We propped his steps, he leaned upon us both.
OSWALD Ay, we are coupled by a chain of adamant;
Let us be fellow-labourers, then, to enlarge
Man's intellectual empire. We subsist
In slavery; all is slavery; we receive
Laws, but we ask not whence those laws have come;
We need an inward sting to goad us on.
MARMADUKE Have you betrayed me? Speak to that.
OSWALD The mask,
Which for a season I have stooped to wear,
Must be cast off.--Know then that I was urged,
(For other impulse let it pass) was driven,
To seek for sympathy, because I saw
In you a mirror of my youthful self;
I would have made us equal once again,
But that was a vain hope. You have struck home,
With a few drops of blood cut short the business;
Therein for ever you must yield to me.
But what is done will save you from the blank
Of living without knowledge that you live:
Now you are suffering--for the future day,
'Tis his who will command it.--Think of my story--
Herbert is _innocent_.
MARMADUKE (in a faint voice, and doubtingly)
You do but echo
My own wild words?
OSWALD Young Man, the seed must lie
Hid in the earth, or there can be no harvest;
'Tis Nature's law. What I have done in darkness
I will avow before the face of day.
Herbert _is_ innocent.
MARMADUKE What fiend could prompt
This action? Innocent!--oh, breaking heart!--
Alive or dead, I'll find him.
[Exit.]
OSWALD
Alive--perdition!
[Exit.]
SCENE--The inside of a poor Cottage
ELEANOR and IDONEA seated
IDONEA The storm beats hard--Mercy for poor or rich,
Whose heads are shelterless in such a night!
A VOICE WITHOUT
Holla! to bed, good Folks, within!
ELEANOR O save us!
IDONEA What can this mean?
ELEANOR Alas, for my poor husband!--
We'll have a counting of our flocks to-morrow;
The wolf keeps festival these stormy nights:
Be calm, sweet Lady, they are wassailers
[The voices die away in the distance.]
Returning from their Feast--my heart beats so--
A noise at midnight does _so_ frighten me.
IDONEA Hush! [Listening.]
ELEANOR They are gone. On such a night, my husband,
Dragged from his bed, was cast into a dungeon,
Where, hid from me, he counted many years,
A criminal in no one's eyes but theirs--
Not even in theirs--whose brutal violence
So dealt with him.
IDONEA I have a noble Friend
First among youths of knightly breeding, One
Who lives but to protect the weak or injured.
There again!
[Listening.]
ELEANOR 'Tis my husband's foot. Good Eldred
Has a kind heart; but his imprisonment
Has made him fearful, and he'll never be
The man he was.
IDONEA I will retire;--good night!
[She goes within.]
[Enter ELDRED (hides a bundle)]
ELDRED Not yet in bed, Eleanor!--there are stains in that frock
which must be washed out.
ELEANOR What has befallen you?
ELDRED I am belated, and you must know the cause--
(speaking low)
that is the blood of an unhappy Man.
ELEANOR Oh! we are undone for ever.
ELDRED Heaven forbid that I should lift my hand against any man.
Eleanor, I have shed tears to-night, and it comforts
me to think of it.
ELEANOR Where, where is he?
ELDRED I have done him no harm, but----it will be forgiven me; it
would not have been so once.
ELEANOR You have not _buried_ anything? You are no richer than
when you left me?
ELDRED Be at peace; I am innocent.
ELEANOR Then God be thanked--
[A short pause; she falls upon his neck.]
ELDRED Tonight I met with an old Man lying stretched upon the
ground--a sad spectacle: I raised him up with a hope
that we might shelter and restore him.
ELEANOR (as if ready to run)
Where is he? You were not able to bring him _all_ the way
with you; let us return, I can help you.
[ELDRED shakes his head.]
ELDRED He did not seem to wish for life: as I was struggling on,
by the light of the moon I saw the stains of blood upon my
clothes--he waved his hand, as if it were all useless; and
I let him sink again to the ground.
ELEANOR Oh that I had been by your side!
ELDRED I tell you his hands and his body were cold--how could I
disturb his last moments? he strove to turn from me as
if he wished to settle into sleep.
ELEANOR But, for the stains of blood--
ELDRED He must have fallen, I fancy, for his head was cut; but I
think his malady was cold and hunger.
ELEANOR Oh, Eldred, I shall never be able to look up at this roof
in storm or fair but I shall tremble.