University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV

[The Church and Churchyard in the Village.]
ADAM.
[Digging a grave, and singing as he does so.]
The crab, the bullace, and the sloe,
They burgeon in the Spring;
And when the west wind melts the snow,
The redstarts build and sing.
But Death's at work in rind and root,
And loves the green buds best;
And when the pairing music's mute,
He spares the empty nest.
Death! Death!
Death is master of lord and down.
Close the coffin, and hammer it down.

ABDIEL.
[Entering the churchyard.]
Who may it be for whom you dig this grave?

ADAM.
'Tis more than I can tell you, sir, as yet,
Having no robe of prophecy. Death knows,
If you could ask him. I have served him well
This many a year. But he's a silent master,
And keeps his secrets to himself.

ABDIEL.
But why
Scoop you a grave, if none yet wanteth it?

ADAM.
It will be wanted surely. Mine is a trade
That's never out of fashion. Other products
Wait upon whim or accident. Drought defrauds
The mower's hook, but Death's scythe findeth swathes
All the year round; his harvest never fails.
Spring nips the young, and winter takes the old,
And many a summer maid is cankering fruit
For an autumnal coffin.

ABDIEL.
You would seem
To relish your vocation.

ADAM.
'Tis secure,
Since men are safe to die. Change changes not
That last of all our changes. Thus I sleep
Certain of occupation; never less,
And sometimes more. It is a steady trade
Even at the worst of times; and whiles there be,
Thanks to distemper, sickness, accident,
Death doth a roaring business. Never fear
That I with leisurely unordered graves
Shall overstock the market. Why, sir, you,
Who walk Eternity as though your road
Were long as it, or I who oftentimes,
Intent on carving others' sepulchres,
In their mortality forget my own,
Or, look you there! yon fair unheeding thing,
That nubile blossom blowing hitherward,
May need one ere to-morrow.

ABDIEL.
Sooth there is
No controverting “may-be.” But the wise
With the uncertain certainty of death
Make no appointment.

[Abdiel enters the Church. Elspeth skirts the churchyard, in order to avoid Adam, who goes on digging the grave and singing.]
[Elspeth enters the Church.]
ABDIEL.
You need not tell him all.

ELSPETH.
I must; or else
Damnation on my soul would heavier press,
And Hell be hotter still. Confession scours
Both stain and penalty. Wait here for me.
You will not leave me?

[She goes into the Confessional.]
ABDIEL.
(alone).
If it comforts her,
'Twill injure no one. Yet how strange she should
Into the ear of male austerity
Confide the bubbles of her dancing blood.
If the revolt were awful as the tongue
Of scandal labels it, she could not do it,
Nor he, prescribing penance for the sin,
Absolve the culprit. 'Twixt the deed and doer
This wise tribunal, scorned by Lucifer,
Makes just distinction; and the foul offence,
Branded as foul lest it should multiply,
Leaves the offender clean.
[Father Gabriel enters the Church from the Sacristy.]
Your servant, father.

FATHER GABRIEL.
Say son, not servant; it is I who serve
All who serve God. Have you then come to pray?

ABDIEL.
Yes, to beseech you, father, if you will,
To rivet me in bonds of matrimony
With one the fairest now of all your flock,
Since Eve hath strayed from it.

FATHER GABRIEL.
You touch my wound,
But help to heal it, and shall mend the gap
Of my poor broken fence. Yet she will come,
Come back she will; it is not possible,
Though she may leave her fleece upon the thorns,
She should not hear the Shepherd in the night,
And bleat repentance. Come, my son, and kneel,
And I straightway instruction will impart
To your converted longings.

ABDIEL.
Not so quick!
I want a wife, and not a theory
Pat to explain the unexplainable.
Life is a labyrinth whereof the thread
Is held by Death; 'tis he will let me out
When the time comes. Meanwhile the maze is well,
With love for a companion.

FATHER GABRIEL.
But the Church
Mates not the faithful with the heretic.
Nay, were you Caesar of the pagan globe,
And she you woo a lowlier virgin still
Than any in my village, faith professed
In dogmas to the Church by God revealed,
And seeking of her sacraments, must be
The portal of humility wherethrough
You stoop to sacred marriage.

ABDIEL.
Go in there;
A penitent awaits you. Then come forth,
And answer me again.

[Father Gabriel enters the Confessional.]
ABDIEL.
(alone).
How lulled in peace!
These mountain chapels seem like havens reached
After a round of storms. Inventive man
Discovers medicine for all miseries.
These whitewashed walls, these thoughtful images,
These pots of gaudy posies, are in sooth
A garden and infirmary. Hurt souls
Here find, with ready dressing for their wounds,
A couch to lie on. Shallow Lucifer!
To quarrel with the comfort of the world,
Because it lodges in the heart and brain,
And not outside them, seen and tangible.
If we assume a sky, why not as well
A Heaven beyond it? Both are only space,
Filled with man's longings; to dishearten these
Were to make space but ponderous emptiness.
Man needs some leaven for his daily life,
That else were sad to heaviness, some barm
By whose fermenting may his fancy rise
Beyond the level of confining fact;
And for the lightening of simple souls
There's no such yeast as faith. What though the prayers
Of weeping crones and genuflecting swains
Reach to no ear, they are not therefore lost,
But, like a fountain, vivify the air,
And, falling back again, refresh their source,
No drop, no motion, and no music wasted.

[Father Gabriel and Elspeth come out of the Confessional. Elspeth goes to the altar-rails, kneels, and prays.]
FATHER GABRIEL.
(to COUNT ABDIEL).
Alas! that you may restitution make,
You needs must keep the very thing you stole,
And Heaven annex its sanction to the theft.
Yet do not prize it less because 'twas filched
Too soon, too easily, but reverence her
Who reverenced you too deeply to withhold
The secret of her nature. I will join
My prayer to hers your reparation may
Reap grace for its reward, and, with grace, faith.

[Father Gabriel withdraws to the Sacristy. Elspeth comes down the Church.]
ELSPETH.
It is forgiven; and you will call me wife?

ABDIEL.
Others will call you that; it is for them
You need fresh christening. I will call you mine,
And any name is good enough for love.

ELSPETH.
May I see Eve sometimes, despite the stain
To which she clings?

ABDIEL.
See her as often, child,
As she will welcome you. But ponder this:
You now reproach each other, and her Prince,
Throned on his altitude of bondless love,
Will hold you worthless for the very knot
Which, in your eyes, secures your worthiness.

[They pass into the churchyard.]
ELSPETH.
You will not tire of me?

ABDIEL.
Who tires of Spring?

ELSPETH.
Ah! time will come when I shall autumn be,
Without its loveliness.

ABDIEL.
Why, then, my days
Will be mid-winter, and your ripened store
Will comfort both.

[They pass on. Adam sings, finishing the grave.]