University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

The Garden of Gethsemane. Evening of the same day (Friday).
(Enter Judas).
Judas.
At last I win her—triumph such as this
I think ne'er fell to lot of man before;
Triumph by day, and tenderer bliss by night.
First in the day to see one's foe fall dead
—King of the Jews!—a thorn-wreath for his crown—
Robbers on left and right—his royal guard
The Roman soldiers with their mocking jeers—
Derided—spat upon—a kingly King?—
First in the day to see one's enemy fall,
Then in the night when all the stars shine forth
A joy that might dismount them from their thrones
In airy space and bring them down to earth
With envious hearts that covet mortal bliss.
Now I shall know—as I have longed to know—
What sweet strange poison lurks in Mary's lips,
Poison that coursing through the enfevered veins
Of young Tibullus two short months ago
Drove him to madness, till he clean forgot
Duty and discipline and friends and country—
Wrote home to Rome that he had found a prize,
Venus in woman's shape—on that wild night
Forsook his post, when captain of the guard,
Reckless for Mary's sake—myself assisting
Encountered, challenged, slew, his friend Valerius,
And, being condemned to death, fell on his sword.
Now I shall know—as I have longed to know—
What sweet strange pleasure-giving touch she has,
That drew the very soul from out the body
Of strong Valerius—that o'erthrew Licinius—
That made impassioned Flaccus loathe his wife,
And—turning to our race—revived in old
Withered Ben-Aaron his lost taste for woman.
Now shall I know it all.

Enter Mary. She speaks to herself, gazing around her).
Mary.
The very spot—
The very spot where last night they betrayed him!
Upon those flowers I even now could deem
I see the blood of Malchus.
(Coming forward, and addressing Judas).
Friend, I'm here.

Judas
(aside).
At last—no soul is near—the garden's lonely—
Unless the bloodless ghost of Jesus watches!
(To Mary)
Welcome—the night grows sweeter.

Mary.
Sweeter? Here
The stars are shining somewhat over-brightly.
Draw back a little—follow me, friend—so:
I know a love-sweet corner; I'll confess—
You like confession—that I met—

Judas.
Valerius?

Mary.
Valerius there in pleasant days gone by.

Judas.
Lead thou the way.
(Aside)
In every pulse I tremble!
The hot blood courses through my veins like fire.
(aloud)
Is this the way?

Mary.
This way. Now stoop a little.
Wait, while I lift this branch—now enter—so.
'Tis light outside, but dark beneath the leaves.
That matters little, Judas, for our eyes
Can flash forth love-light underneath the branches?

Judas
(stooping to enter the bower).
Mary, I love you madly.

Mary.
And I hate you
Deeplier than woman ever hated man!
(She draws out a knife and stabs him. He falls, struggling).
Take this . . . and this . . . and this. . What, but half dead!
Nay, writhe there helpless—glare at me with eyes
In which thine holy passion of love is mixed
With dread of death, and deadlier dread of hell.

Judas.
Curse you! . . . the hot blood chokes my utterance back . . .

Mary.
Dost thou still love me? . . . Lo! I stab thee again
With this keen knife dipped in the blood of Jesus.
Now let me tell thee—sooner than have given
Myself to thee, I would have let Rome's lions
Divide me inch by inch; I would have kissed
Their ravenous jaws frothy with human blood
Far rather than thy lips. Yea, when I kissed thee,
Or kissed thee as thou thoughtest, I spat out
Thy kiss; the flowers it fell upon are dead.
Hear this before thou diest. Hear this too—
I so loved Jesus—with so fine an edge
Of superhuman and unuttered love—
That I cared nought at all, nor did he care,
For what this lying world calls love and passion.
I would have tarried spotless for his sake,
Loving the very ground he trod upon,
Demanding nought from him for love's return
Save only the sweet pure touch of his hands
Upon my brow, the blessing of his eyes,
The magic of his voice—I would have tarried
Thus for his sake, contented, peaceful, proud,
Till the last star within the darkling skies
Of this life faded, and the dawn of life
Eternal glittered on the mountain-tops.
Hear this—and die.
(He dies).
Here comes Ben-Aaron. Let me get my breath—
I'll greet him like a lover. Men can do
Great deeds, I doubt not, but a woman's deeds
When once the woman's desperate make man's deeds
Pale into nothingness.
(Enter Ben-Aaron).
Best greeting, Sir.
I here await your orders.
(She stands between Ben-Aaron and the corpse of Judas).
Let us move
A little this way, where the moon shines clear.

Ben-Aaron.
Queen art thou—radiant empress of the night,
Empress of man, being as thou surely art
In every sweet pulse woman. By the gods,
Not all the virtues of the angel-world
Of which that dreamer dreamed had half the sweetness,
Mary, of just one little sin of thine!
Knowledge is God, I said—nay, love is God;
But not the love of which the dead man spoke,
But love alive with passion.

Mary.
Wilt thou kiss me?
Nay, tell me first—thou hast all knowledge, thou—
Are there dark chambers in the vaults of hell
Where women who have sinned all mortal sins
May do immortal penance? Are there too
Mansions illumed by never-setting stars
For saints whom sinners worship? Tell me this.

Ben-Aaron.
Speak not thus strangely! Knowledge was my God,
But knowledge I dethrone—yes, for this night.
We'll tread together the fair flower-strewn floors
Of pleasure's passionate temple.

Mary.
Turn thy head.
Seest thou yon portent in the ghastly moon—
(Ben-Aaron turns. She stabs him).
The portent of thy death?

Ben-Aaron.
Thou lying traitress!
I gave thee love—

Mary.
And I have given thee back
Thy love,—in woman's fashion. Hound thou art;
(Stepping aside, that he may see the body of Judas).
Soon shall thy carrion-carcase stink beside
That other carrion there—fit vultures' food,
If vultures deign to touch it.

Ben-Aaron.
Mercy—help!

Mary.
Nay, cry out louder—there is none to hear
Save only God, and him thou dost deny.
Think not on death—nay, “death's a gloomy word:
I never use it—never think on death
Indeed—I think of love and maidens' lips,
But not of death and darkness”—Yes, I heard;
And now I give you back your pleasant words
But gently lest I hurt you, for I know
You “shiver” at “rough” speech.

Ben-Aaron.
Before I die
With all my soul I curse you, and I curse—

Mary.
Curses are holiest blessings when they come
From such as you; your blessing is your curse,
Your curse your blessing. But enough of this:
(She stabs him again. He dies).
Join thou thy comrade in the deep foul hell
Where such dogs' souls foregather. As for me,
(Dragging his body to the side of that of Judas).
My work is ended now these two lie slain;
Now have I avenged thee, Jesus,—thou didst soften
My heart—for one glad moment—but thy death
Has changed my heart to stone, my hands to steel,
And given me force to drive the dagger home.
Now must I follow thee—
My life has been a sad life; once I thought,
Full of the passion and the pride of youth,
That all men loved me—I believed their words—
Then came betrayal, insight into baseness,
And then revenge; the tempted ruined girl
Became the tempter,—with Delilah's look
Now in my eyes I sought the haunts of men,
Seduced and overthrew the Roman Samsons.
Once half I loved—Tibullus—but his death,
Mad, self-inflicted, left me lone again
With black despair before me; then came Jesus:
Old thoughts of Galilee and girlish days
With him revived,—the fancy of a girl
Changed, deepening, to the absorbing love of woman.
The strange divine sweet look within his eyes
(Grown sweeter in the long years since we parted)
Lured me as nought on earth had lured me yet:
I knew he saw God's face, and from God's face
His own face won its pure unearthly sweetness.
There could be but one Jesus in the world;
But one for me—for all the world but one!
Call ye him Son of God, or Son of man,
King of my heart, or King of all the Jews,
It matters little—King he is and Lord
In virtue of the ever-enduring might
Of kingly gentleness and perfect manhood.
All women loved him; woman ever loves
The nobleness in man, though man believes
She loves the half-tamed passionate brute in him.
We loved him—I the most, who most had sinned;
I, lifted by him from the lowest depth,
Mine heart made whole, my deadliest sins forgiven:
We loved him—and unnumbered women more
Through all the ages in the far-off lands,
Weary of man, shall love the Son of man,—
Shall bring their silent sorrows unto him,
And in the love of him find peace and rest.
So, surely, it shall be. But now I go
To join him—he'll forgive me for the crime,
If crime it be to hate myself so much
Here left without him, and to love so much
The land his spirit dwells in, that I choose
By violent death to pass the viewless gates.
Forbidden to die for him, I choose to die
With him at least; Jesus, receive my soul
And let me, ignorant of joy on earth,
Find joy triumphant, passing earthly speech,
With thee, my Lord and Master, where thou art—
For where thou art, it must be well for me
To tarry with thee, gazing as of old
Deep in thine eyes wherethrough the love of God
Shone verily. Master, I follow thee!

(She raises the dagger. Voices are heard in the distance. Mary pauses, listening, the dagger poised in her hand. Soon a party of disciples passes along the back of the stage, carrying the dead body of Jesus to burial, and singing this funeral dirge).
[Disciples.]

(The voices slowly die away in the distance.)
Mary.
They carry him to burial . . . Ah, to think
That such a life can end in such a doom!
That death should seize him—him in whom I saw
The very face of God, God visible!
Can the cold army of the countless worms
Invade the flesh of God, for God through him
With the full splendour of his presence shone?
Yes: death has conquered life—and conquered love;
Yet—. . .

(She hastens in the direction taken by the burial party).