Chapter III: Act THREE (1)

_SCENE ONE--A grassy ledge far up on the mountain side. Tall
pine trunks rise here and there. Down the slope, to the
left, are russet tops of small oaks newly leaved. To the
right, a rocky acclivity of about thirty degrees elevation
with scattered bushes and a sheep path winding back and up.
In the distance, a blue range of mountains with their bases
buried in the white mists of early morning._

_Some distance back from where the path comes down upon
the ledge, Conrad is broiling woodcocks on coals. Brown
feathers are sprinkled about upon the turf. Upon a rock
near by lies a well-filled hunting bag. Fritz, with his
face to the fire, is reclining upon the grass with a_
_shepherd's staff in his hands. From down the slope, comes_
_a tinkle of bells as of sheep browsing on the mountain side._

_TIME--Two days later._

FRITZ--I was with Canzler when the boy climbed up
Among the rocks and handed it to him.

CONRAD--What does it look like?

FRITZ-- It's as long as that,

(_Indicating on his staff._)

And blue as the waters of the tarn down there.
Upon the haft are wrought two eagles' heads
And, twisted round the blade in coil on coil,
A serpent in the talons of the birds
Forms the cross piece upon the lower haft.
On the blade between the coils what may be runes
Are cut in characters of some unknown tongue;
At least, no man has ever made them out.

CONRAD--Where could the boy have gotten it?

FRITZ-- No one knows.
Turn the bird over.

CONRAD-- It is not brown yet.

FRITZ--There is something magical about it all.
In the light, the blade bends like a willow wand,
But when the sky is overcast with clouds
Or in the shade of rock or tree no man
With all his might can bend it, and it slips
Through tree and rock as through a pawpaw leaf.

CONRAD--The boy himself, what did he say?

FRITZ-- He vanished.

CONRAD-- Eh?

FRITZ--When Canzler turned to ask him, he was gone.

CONRAD--And have you seen him since?

FRITZ-- Where is your bread?

CONRAD--I have some here. (_He reaches up into the bag._)
Has no one seen him since?

FRITZ--He was out on the mountains every day
Before, either by the abbey over there
Or climbing in the vines above the tarn,
But always in the shade of rock or tree.
When he crossed spaces where the sunlight fell
'Twas always in the shadow of a cloud.
No one has seen him since he disappeared.

CONRAD-- (_Laying the bread upon the grass._)
You know the song that Wiglaf used to sing,
Of how Val-father wanders over the earth
In human form--

FRITZ-- That is what Rudolph says;
Val-father turns his dark side to the earth.

CONRAD--And leaves swords sticking in the rock and trees.

FRITZ--Rudolph insists that Oswald will return.
He says that Selma learned it from the trees.
She listens in the forest all day long
And when the wind is loud and the boughs sway--

CONRAD--How could he ever find us here?

FRITZ-- I see
How that could be; Woden knows where we are,
And where he turns his face the way is clear.

CONRAD--Oswald has turned his back on Woden's face.

FRITZ--Blind Hoder wandered once as far as Hell,
And he came back, for Woden in his mind
Directed him and--Here comes Canzler now.

CONRAD--Is that the sword.

FRITZ-- Yes.

CONRAD-- What was that he said?

FRITZ--He must be going down to see the priest.

(_With the sword at his side and wearing a cap
made of a wild-cat's skin, its head upon his
head and the rest of the skin hanging down
his back, Canzler comes down the sheep path,
followed by Rudolph._)

CANZLER--More than two years have passed and not a word
Was ever said to throw the claim in doubt;
But now that Hartzel is about to die
They think to get the whole tract for the Church,
Upon the ground that he who sold the land
To Hartzel was apostate to their Faith.

RUDOLPH--They don't deny that the man owned the land?

CANZLER--He owned the land till he disowned the Faith
And by that act he dispossessed himself,
And then, they say, the land reverted to God.

RUDOLPH--And Hartzel's money, to whom does it revert?

CANZLER--That is a matter between infidels,
And proves, when they rob one another so,
There is no honesty outside the Faith.

RUDOLPH--The man that sold the land robbed Hartzel, eh?

CANZLER--If knavery is all outside the Faith.

CONRAD--Will you men have some breakfast?

RUDOLPH-- And did they
Tell Hartzel on what ground they had seized his land?

CANZLER--"All land is God's, and pagans have no right
To own it," was the answer that he got.
That was a month ago, though. When they found
That the wind passed and still the fruit hung on,
Thinking perhaps 'twould fall of its own weight.
They waited until yesterday and then
Unexpectedly they bumped the tree.
Hartzel should hold possession during life--
He is about to die--and at his death
The Church should take the burden of the estate
From his dead shoulders, and carry it without charge
And with it save his soul from Hell.

RUDOLPH-- And save
His children--?

CANZLER-- From the path that leads to Hell.

RUDOLPH--Is that their proposition?

CANZLER-- That is it.
The old man in despair appealed to me.

RUDOLPH--What are you going to tell them, Canzler?

CANZLER--What am I going to tell them? Tell them what
Val-father tells the mountains, tells the rocks,
The trees, the beasts, the birds, all things that live.
Woden, who made all things, made each to be
Different from the rest. He made the oak
To bear its acorns and the pine its cones.
The mole to burrow and the fox to run,
The eagle to hatch her brood upon the crag
Under the sun, the bat, in the dark cave.
The ox to eat grass, and the lion flesh,
And each to go its own particular way
Upon a path as separate and clear
As are the curves and risings of the stars.

(_Fritz and Conrad come forward._)

He made no bell to ring all things that live
To sameness in their lives or in their thought.
To keep them, as he made them, different,
He gave to each an individual taste
And matched the taste within with that without
Which, when the two meet, the result is joy.
Joy is the voice of each thing as it moves
Toward Woden on the path that he laid out.
The eagle finds its way without a guide
To Woden, and the stars without a guide,
Each in its own light, and all things that live,
From the blind worm to the all-seeing sun,
Follow their joy and come at last to him.
The eagle's right to go the eagle's way
Is not conditioned by another thing
Save by the fact alone that it is so:
That Woden gave to it an eagle's wings.
And so with man. To what man has a right,
He has a right because he is a man
And not because he is a kind of man.
Val-father's bells have each a different tone.
You cannot make the million aisles that lead
To him one aisle and drive all things through that,
Or make the right of each to be and to have
Rest on its answering a particular bell.
If we admit their principle that Faith,
Or anything outside the fact that one
Is a man, is the basis of the rights of man,
We shame our Saxon fathers who fought and died
For a lie, if this be true. For when the South
Pushed through the Frankish forest with her sword
Between her teeth, and stained with blood, and held
Her hands out, saying, "Here, take this or this,"
Our fathers chose the darkness of the grave
From the red hand, and left the black hand filled
With that which now to keep itself alive
Eats Hartzel's land and licks its fangs toward us.
When the great night came on and they laid down
Under their battered shields and broken swords,
The trees have told us what their last word was:
"The northern air will kill the southern lie;
Then we will come again. Remember this."

FRITZ--And here we are.

CANZLER-- It may not be dawn yet,
But some are up before the light.

FRITZ-- And all
The dead will rise when Balder comes.

RUDOLPH-- But now
Val-father has his dark side to the earth,
And works in his own shadow.

FRITZ-- But the dawn
Will reach down and lift Balder out of Hell.

CONRAD-- (_Drawing the sword from Canzler's belt._)
If we concede to every man the right,
As you say, Canzler, to his own belief,
We must concede to the villagers the right
To their belief that they own Hartzel's land.

CANZLER--We do concede it.

RUDOLPH-- Their right to their belief.
But not their right to Hartzel's land.

CANZLER-- With them
Men are God's vassals, and the land they hold,
They hold in fief to him, on terms of faith.

RUDOLPH--And while they keep the Faith, they keep the land.

FRITZ--And when they lose the Faith, they lose the land.

CONRAD-- (_Walking aside._)
And when they have no Faith, they have no land.

(_He tries to pierce with the sword a pine tree in
the sunlight._)

CANZLER--Try that one in the shade there.

(_The sword passes deeply into the second trunk._)

FRITZ-- Is it through?

CONRAD-- (_Looking behind the trunk._)
More than a hand's breadth.

FRITZ-- If the village dogs
Snap at you as they are wont to--

CANZLER-- I shall have
No trouble with them.

FRITZ-- And yet you expect
To tell them what you said just--

CANZLER-- I expect
Hartzel to have his rights. Fetch it here, Conrad.

RUDOLPH--The Bailiff, Canzler, is a rabid man.

CANZLER--I have no business with the Bailiff.

RUDOLPH-- Still,
To reach the church, you must pass through the street.

CANZLER--Is it too narrow for two men to pass?

(_He receives the sword and goes left._)

RUDOLPH--For two such men as you two are, it is.

FRITZ--With swords on thighs.

CONRAD-- (_Walking back toward the fire._)
The hilts might knock.

FRITZ--(_Following him._) Or blades.

VOICE OF SELMA-- (_Above._)
I'm going with you, Father!

CANZLER-- No, Selma;
You--

SELMA-- (_Who comes running down the path._)
Just to the dingle; the faries say
The heather-bells are out.

RUDOLPH-- Let her go, Canzler.

CANZLER--Throw the white blooms away.

SELMA-- (_Throwing away a sprig of dog-wood._)
Now may I go?

CANZLER--They make you sad. (_He starts down the slope_.)

SELMA-- I'll not cry any more.
I'll be gay, Father, if you let me go.

(_She turns and looks questioningly at Rudolph,
who nods to her. Then, skipping forward, she
takes hold of the hilt of her father's sword
and steadies herself with it as they go down
the slope._)

CONRAD--Come back and have a woodcock.

(_Rudolph walks back._)

FRITZ-- There he goes. (_Shouting._)
O Canzler!

CONRAD-- He don't hear you.

RUDOLPH-- Who?

CONRAD-- The Priest.

RUDOLPH--Which way is he?

FRITZ-- Riding down toward town.

(_Rudolph joins the others, and the three stand
looking off left._)

CONRAD-- (_Directing Rudolph._)
Up that way from the Abbey.

FRITZ-- I bet he's been
Back to see Hartzel. (_Shouting._) Canzler!

CONRAD-- He can't hear.

_SCENE TWO--The courtyard of the abbey, as in Scene three
of the second act. The large crucifix which was seen in
the forest in the first Act is fixed above the door of_
_the chapel. On either side of the door is a stained glass_
_window, the farther one depicting the Transfiguration, the
nearer one, the legend of St. Giles. The deer with blood
dripping from a wound in its haunch stands behind the
saint who holds in his hand an arrow with blood upon its
tip. The emporer and his huntsmen are presenting the saint
with golden cups. The deer is watching them. Several rude
benches of stone are ranged alongside of the dormitory.
In the rear, about ten feet back from the building, a low
stone wall extends across, passing behind the dormitory on
the one side and the chapel on the other. To the left, far
back, is seen the side of the mountain on which the abbey
stands. The upper part is thickly wooded, and below, where
the timber is sparse, a road winds down the cliff to the
village. Farther down, the slope becomes more precipitous
and is covered with bowlders and stunted evergreens, some
of which have been broken off by rocks tumbling from the
cliff above. Off to the right, a space of sky with the
snow-peaks flashing in the sunlight. To the left in the
last Scene, they are now far to the right._

_From a door in the dormitory facing the court, Ely and_
_Pierre enter. The former has a hunting horn suspended from
his shoulder by a chain, and in his hand a small wooden
crucifix. Pierre carries two large silver candelabra. They
come out talking._

ELY--For he was old and he had come four miles.

PIERRE--A cripple too! When was this?

ELY-- Yesterday.
And when I showed him this and said: "Good man,
Here is a rood he carved with his own hands,"
Light filled his eyes.

PIERRE-- And had he come so far?

(_Ely walks forward and looks around the corner of
the dormitory._)

ELY-- (Turning back.)
I must be at the gate when father comes--
Four miles on crutches. Suddenly he looked up.
He must have seen a wing flash in the sky,
For his face brightened with the light of faith,
And like a seed he seemed to scent a shower.

PIERRE--What did you do?

ELY-- I asked him to kneel down.
Oh, what a power there is in holy things!
No sooner had I touched him with the rood
Than like a plant he rose up from the stones
And blossomed; cried: "Lord Jesus, I am cured!"
And down the mountain ran shouting for joy.

PIERRE--The Holy Virgin bless us!

ELY-- Yes, he did;
Ran down. I watched him till he disappeared,
Then turned to stone. I could not stir, but stood
Frightened as though an angel hovered near
In the blue sky.

PIERRE-- Oh, I have felt it too!
These two days have to me been like a dream
And I am dizzy as on some high place.
At night I feel the stars are not far off,
And when I wake, it seems to me the dawn
Is breaking far below us on the world.
So near we are to that which lights the sun,

(_He holds up the candelabra._)

These candles, if I should dare to speak the word,
Would burst out into flame.

ELY-- Pierre!

PIERRE--(_Still looking up._) Oh, surely,
Surely the hands that lifted Oswald up,
Lifted our abbey too, and we are close
To heaven. Perhaps about us in the air
Are voices and the wings of those that hear
Our very whispers,--martyrs, saints, Saint Giles.

ELY--You make it terrible to live in flesh.

PIERRE--Oh, terrible! It is terrible to live
Where every word drops in an angel's ear.
I feel that every breath should be a prayer.

ELY--I feel so too, Pierre. These acts of grace--

PIERRE--Are but the sparks of power.

(_He starts toward the chapel._)

ELY-- Mere sparks, you think?
These healings and this rescue from the gulch,
Mere sparks?

PIERRE-- Simply the scattered beams.

ELY-- And yet,
The same great light hath kindled one and all.
Is it not so?

PIERRE-- All these will vanish when--

ELY--Tell me. Go on.

PIERRE-- When the full orb shall burst.

ELY--What do you mean?

PIERRE--(_Mounting the steps._) I dare not speak it.

ELY-- Brother!

PIERRE--Ely, we stand in darkness by the Tomb,
And little beams flash on us from the chinks,
But the full glory, flooding all the vault,
Awaits the angel.

ELY-- Is it the dream you mean?

PIERRE--No one must ever tell him, Father says.

ELY--You think then that the dream will be fulfilled?
That it is Oswald whom the hounds of Hell
Will chase up some vast mountain of the soul?

PIERRE--Soon the stone will stir. (_He enters the chapel._)

ELY-- Pierre!

(_While Ely stands hoping that Pierre will
reappear, loud laughter breaks from the open
door of the dormitory, and Simon and Basil
come sprawling out. The former is pulling at
a piece of flesh. Ely's face shows anger, and
he starts left._)

BASIL-- His crutches!

(_He laughs aloud._)

SIMON--Here he is now. Ely!

BASIL--(_Calling through the door._) Hear that, Rene?
The beggar left his crutches for his gift.

(_Laughter within._)

SIMON--You ask him. Ely!

(_Ely unlocks the iron gates and passes out._)

BASIL-- Bring the crutches, man!
Simon's got the gout.

(_Rene comes out and joins Basil in laughing at
Simon. The latter, eating his meat, walks back
in the court. Basil whispers to Rene._)

RENE-- When was it, Simon?

SIMON--Yesterday. I was sleeping on the bench
When the old codger's shouting waked me up.
And there he was. (_He points up to the road._)
I thought the man was mad,
Or had been in the gables robbing nests,
For his white hair fluttering in the wind
Looked like a pair of pigeons on his poll.
He must have thought the Devil-- (_He sits down on a bench._)

BASIL-- Or else Ely.

RENE--Yes, chasing him for his pay.

BASIL--(_Indignantly._) His crutches!

SIMON-- (_Drolly._)
He left his sole support.

(_They all laugh. Basil, who has come forward,
peeps round the corner of the dormitory.
Withdrawing quickly, he hurries back toward
the door._)

BASIL--(_Excitedly, in an underbreath._) Rene!

(_He points back over his shoulder with his thumb._)

RENE--(_Huskily._) Simon!

(_Simon leaps up, jerks away his meat, and, wiping
his mouth with his sleeve, hurries after the
others into the dormitory. From the right,
the Abbot enters followed by a train of
monks. He wears a miter and a flowing cope_
_of scarlet, richly apparelled. From the end
of a rosary about his neck dangles an ivory
crucifix. The monks are all in black and wear
their hoods. Upon reaching the center of the
court, the Abbot raises his staff and the_
_procession stops._)

ABBOT--Saint Martin hath restored the golden dawn
And put the clouds to flight. The kingly sun
Looks on the world like our new-risen Lord
Driving the night before Him. And the fiends,
That fly with darkness from the pit of death
To conjure with the baleful midnight stars
And wreck God's holy chime of human souls,
Are scourged to Hell, and all the rebel orbs
Are thunder-stunned. Vapors and noxious fogs
That hatch contagion in rank, drizzling swamps,
Will soon beneath the lightning's flagellum
With breezes fan their fevers from the blood,
And with pure sea-dews from green ocean urns
Sprinkle the parched earth to cool the vines
Preparing clusters of our dear Lord's blood.
The serpent spawn of imps and evil dreams,
Fairies and watching wanderers of the night,
That kennel in the bowels of the earth
And taint its waters, blight the tender sprouts,
And sow infections through the flocks and herds,
Have flown like bats into the squalid caves,
And there are numb with fear. O'er Zion's towers
The virgin dawn brings forth the sun of God
And smiles upon the world. The blessed light
Spreads o'er the earth its bright, archangel wings,
Dripping with balmy dews and cassia smells.
The day will--

(_High up on the mountain is heard the blast of a
trumpet._) Hark!

A MONK-- It was Ely's trumpet.

ANOTHER--Some one comes.

ABBOT-- The asses from Italy,
Bringing the wine and frankincense, no doubt.

A MONK--And the golden chalices.

ANOTHER-- And Father's cope.

(_Pierre comes from the chapel_.)

ABBOT--Pierre!

PIERRE-- What it is, Father?

ABBOT-- Is the ambry clean?

PIERRE--It is, Father.

ABBOT-- Go find Louis, and fetch--
Fetch the diotas and--let's see--three casks.

(_He saunters toward the gate. Three monks
follow Pierre, right. The rest disperse about
the court, the greater part eventually finding
their way into the chapel. A few walk back in
the rear and stand looking up at the road.
Three monks, who came in at the end of the
procession and who all the while have stood
perfectly still, slip back their hoods and
discover Simon, Rene, and Basil. At the corner
of the dormitory, Pierre and his companions
meet Louis entering_.)

ONE OF THE MONKS--The train has come.

PIERRE-- Father says bring the casks.

(_Louis reaches under his gown and produces a
large iron key which he hands to Pierre. He
then passes into the court. The four go out_.)

ABBOT-- (_Calculating._)
Thirty gallons and six--(_Turning._) Four casks, Pierre.

SIMON--The chopin too, Pierre. You know the men,
The mule-men will be dry.

BASIL-- Or Simon will.

RENE--Or Basil.

BASIL-- Or Rene.

SIMON-- (_With his hand to his mouth._) Or Father.

(_They laugh._)

ABBOT-- Louis!

(_The shutter near the corner of the dormitory
opens, and Solomon leans out. He has a
parchment in his hand._)

SOLOMAN--_Quid est_, Leo?

LEO-- (_Telling his beads, on one of the benches._)
The wine train has arrived.

SOLOMAN--From Paradise.

LEO-- Don't be irreverant.

BASIL---(_To Soloman._) Let no man look on wine when it is red.

SIMON--I shut my eyes.

(_Holding their sides for laughter, Rene and
Basil stagger back toward the rear. Soloman
withdraws from the window._)

LEO-- Father will tend to you.

(_Simon makes faces at him and follows his
companions._)

ABBOT-- (_Walking aside with Louis._)
Say nothing to the strangers of the affair.

LOUIS--Of finding brother Oswald?

ABBOT-- No, not that.
His fall, his being found before the gate,
All that, no doubt, the villagers last night
Poured into their ears. The folk are deeply stirred.
From tongue to tongue the flame of rumor runs
That heavenly hands bore Oswald from the gulch.
They think the holy saints have blessed his palms
With power of healing and of miracles.
Alms have increased ten-fold. Cattle and sheep,
Jewels and coin, and corn and casks of wine
Pour in from every side. Within a year,
St. Giles will swell her roofs and shine in gold-- (_Confidentially._)
Provided, Louis, provided. You understand?

LOUIS--You mean the abbey here will robe herself
In purple cloth-of-bodkin stiff with pearl,
Provided--

ABBOT-- This new loom shall keep her hum.

LOUIS--That here red wines will flow to flush her face,
Provided--

ABBOT-- Hand in hand upon the hills
This sudden sun that hath sprung up the sky
Shall lead the vine and pour his blood to swell--

LOUIS--That morning when it strikes her eastern gate
Will see her heaving heavenward dome on dome,
Provided--

ABBOT-- Ay, that's it. You understand.
The quarry for our domes is in our brains.
Here, in our brains, your brain and mine, Louis,
We have the shuttle of that wonderous loom
That shall array her in her cloth-of-gold.
Here is the sun, the bridegroom of the grape.
And here, from hills of France and Italy,
The purple bride shall come and loose her zone
And lay her dower in the abbey's lap.
Lock up that jewel, Louis, in its case.
Let it not get abroad that you suspect--
Suspect, I say; you surely do not know--

LOUIS--I only know of what I heard and saw.
I heard his voice and--

ABBOT-- You were fast asleep.

LOUIS--At first I was; then, wakened by the shout,
Three times I heard him cry out in the dark:
"Haro! help! help!"

ABBOT-- A voice, of course; but whose?
The night so alters sound you cannot tell.
A cat-o'-mountain screaming in the dark
For all the world sounds like a wailing child.

LOUIS--But when I see the track, I'll tell you then.
The track up by the gate, and it's there now,
Is the dwarf's track, four toes on the left foot.

ABBOT--Preposterous, Louis, that this hunched devilock,
Brought up on witch's dugs, in the dead of night
Should be about the service of the Lord.
Asses can talk like men when angels bid.
Perhaps the angels, taking him in the act
Of throwing brother Oswald from the cliff,
Scourged him before them to the abbey gate
And made him in his pain cry out for help
And set his print to attest the power of God.
Who knows?

LOUIS--Brother Oswald, perhaps.

ABBOT--Only God.
But make no mention of the witch's son.
When truth is whist and doubt a favoring gale
Blowing toward golden islands in the sea,
Let the ship drive before it into port.
No one was with you when you found him.

LOUIS--No one.

ABBOT--And no one saw you.

LOUIS--No one. It was still dark;
The brothers were asleep.

ABBOT--Say nothing of it.
Let rumor blow it as a miracle.
Sweet feet of saints have run down in the night
And with a touch enriched a holy house
Of no more worth than this of good St. Giles.
Rumor of saints can do as much as saints.
If thoughts of bright wings stirring in the sky
Can kindle hearts to deeds of charity,
And by those deeds the Virgin's chapels rise,
Let the flame run. We'll blow it through the land.
I've had the brothers circulate report
That wings were seen dissolving in the dawn
Above the mountains.

LOUIS--(_With a smile._) So, perhaps, there were--
Of eagles wheeling airily in the clouds.
Is this not, Father, to build upon the sand?

ABBOT--To build on sand is to build on a lie.

LOUIS--What is a lie?

ABBOT--A lie is not a thing
That is not, but a thing that cannot be.
Thus to say good is evil is a lie,
For good cannot be evil. But to say
That that hath been which God hath power to do
Is to make faith a fact. In days like these,
When the Albigensian heresy is rank,
We must support the Holy Writ in this,
That what is done in thought is done in deed.
Has a good deed been done? Then a good thought
Has done that deed, and that good thought is God's,
And such thoughts we call angels.

LOUIS--Oswald, then,
Was rescued by the angels?

ABBOT--Without doubt.
The globe of fire that Dominic beheld
Above our Lady's chapel in the plain
Of Prouille was a light in his own mind.

LOUIS--The multitude will never understand
This nice distinction.

ABBOT--Just so; but shall we
Show them the foul body of fair Truth
Or the clear spirit?

LOUIS--The spirit, Father.
I never doubt the end you have in view.

ABBOT--You doubt the means, though. Deep down in your heart
You smile and say: "But Father is all right.
The times are fire, and fight for Benedict.
To build the abbey, Father must have gold.
To get the gold, the people must be bilked.
But Father will return them light for gold.
I never doubt the end he has in view."

LOUIS--You are the brain, Father; I, the hand.
You know that I would help you. You know that.

ABBOT--Anyway, Louis, I am justified.
For simple souls find joy in simple faith.
Go down into the village. Guido tells me
Their faces shine because of this bright thing.
It purifies and cheers them. Cyprian says
There is no power that does not come from God.
He might have said the same of light and joy,
And shall I, to whom what I know this thing is
Seems quite as strange as what they think it is--
That angels did it--, take their light away
Because I know it falls not from a star?
A thousand lamps burn in the House of Life.
Shall I walk through its chambers and say: "This,
Children, and this, now these were lit of Hell;
But that one there--see how the oil of God
Goes up the wick and throws a brighter flame"?
Unless they see it brighter, it is not.
They cannot see it so without my eye.
They cannot have my eye and keep their own,
And they must keep their own a little while;
At least until I get my abbey built,
Until I shout the sun from out the sea
And with its beams illumine the valley there.
And since its rising on their gifts depends,
And since their gifts depend on their belief,
I cannot tell them their belief is false;
'Twould bring the abbey down upon their heads;
And Benedict would shout forevermore,
Seeing their night come back without a star.
And so I cannot tell them what is true.
Nothing is sadder than to see a mind
Drifting between an old faith torn away
And a new rock not risen from the waves.
Their wisp must burn until the sun comes up.
Our Lord himself tempered his dazzling truth
To simple minds, and spake in parables,
Leaving the halo on the brow of things.
And shall we blow it away?

LOUIS-- Is it there?

ABBOT-- For them,
It is intensely there. And when they come
Bringing their little gifts, what can I say?
They ask me, "Is this light?" I say, "Does it
Shine?" They answer, "Yes." "Then it is light." (_A pause._)
Is it? (_A pause._) Louis?

LOUIS-- Suppose so; if it shines.

ABBOT--And if they say it shines?

LOUIS--(_After a pause._) I suppose so.

ABBOT--Shall Plato take Saint Giles' faith away?
That, Louis, is the question of all time.

LOUIS--If he can give him Plato's.

ABBOT-- _If_ he can.
And if he cannot?

LOUIS-- If he cannot-- (_He stops._)

ABBOT-- What?
Ready to give to one who cannot take,
Who cannot see my light beyond her light.
Shall I step in upon my mother's prayer
With noise, and say: "But see, yours is no god."
And pick and pound and blow her hope away
And loose her tears upon my father's corpse? (_A pause._)
Louis? (_A pause._) Shall I?

LOUIS-- (_Walking about with his head down._)
I have naught to say.

ABBOT--Do I still seem to be a hypocrite?

LOUIS-- (_Turning quickly._)
Father!

ABBOT--What should I say? "Your eye sees false"?
If they think rue will keep the devils off,
To kill their thought would bring the devils back
And leave them fleeing Hell, not seeking God;
A different thing though Benedict knows it not.
They are not ready for the larger life,
And in a day I cannot make them so.
They cannot take my light. Shall I take theirs,
Their little light, and leave them in the dark?
Take from their hearts the glory and the hope?
How do I know what God means by this thing?
If they should ask me I must drop my eyes
And say: "He hides to-morrow from to-day,"
Which is no answer, Louis, and I know it.
What can I do? No, I must seem to lie:
While I am serving God, seem to serve Hell;
Pray to the Giver of Light, "Thy will be done,"
And then give darkness! Oh, for some power,
Some angel, Louis, that should come from heaven
And free us from these bonds of policy!
That we must hide our light like secret parts
As though each shining ray were snake of Hell!
Oh, that some god would step down on the peaks
And make us throw our thought out on the dark,
As fields their seeds, leaving the god of growth
To separate and slay and bring to sheaf!
How I would lay this cope and this aside,
And with my face upon the mountains run,
Aye, run to meet the bright thing coming down,
And cry, "Hail, hail, hail, hail, thou blessed one!"

(_Shaking with emotion, his voice husky._)

I cannot be a man!

LOUIS-- But, Father, that--

ABBOT--Accursed bondage harder than the Nile!

LOUIS--That prophesy that Oswald brings, may it
Not mean this very thing, that by his fall
And this bright rumor that the angels saved him,
A summer cloud that seems to rain down gold,
May it not be that by this very gold
Your tower of light shall rise upon this rock
And save the North from darkness? May it not?

ABBOT--But who will save us from our policy,
From playing hide and seek with God's bright son,
From the necessity of withholding truth
From those to whom the vital thing belongs,
Who do not even hunger for it more,
Who live and die about a taper's flame,
Calling it star, and sun, salvation, God--
And here all round us--Louis, look, the dawn!

LOUIS--The quality of all light is the same.

ABBOT--Quality, Louis, is not quantity.
The myriad spheres of dew leave the fields dark.
The midnight luster on the swamp is light,
Enough to guide the wild thing paddling there.
The willow leaves give light unto the moth.
The stars that fill us with the life to come
Leave darkness in the prowling tiger's eye,
And rise and set upon its curve of ball.
God made the day for higher things than these.
Some light is not enough for something more
Than moth and water-rat and prowling maws
That find their food in flesh. With what design
Lit God the radiant pages? For what purpose
Hung he the planet Plato in the sky
With kindred constellations of pure thought,
If I, a mortal man, can lift my hand
And leave a shadow in the valley there?
It fills my life with meaning to know this,
That God hath ordered so our spiritual world
That every bright thing needs my will to shine,
As it needs His to reach the shining state.
Think of such confidence of God in man!
And I betray it. (He walks about thoughtfully.)

LOUIS-- You betray it? How?
By holding back the truth about the dwarf?

ABBOT--I hide the light.

LOUIS-- You hide it as a seed
Which, if the people eat, the famine spreads,
But which, if planted, wide the harvest waves.
Your own heart tells you you are right in this.

ABBOT--But when, when is the feeding to begin?
If I to-day withhold the seed, who knows
That I will not to-morrow withhold the yield,
And so continue, building larger barns?
Meanwhile the people in the valley die.

LOUIS--But God, who sees your purpose in it all,
Sees the day coming when this rock shall be
A beacon, and this region full of light.

ABBOT--'Twill never be while Benedict is here.

LOUIS--Oh, but look yonder, Father! Three hours ago
Black clouds besieged the east, and lo, now Day
Stands on the mountain tops and sees them not.
Where Night has gone there's room for Benedict.

ABBOT--I know that, Louis; but the years go by.
And oh, to use the little breath I have
In doing what I never did before!
How is it I cannot tell them what is true?

LOUIS--'Twould crush in seed the abbey you would build.

ABBOT--How can an abbey rise upon a lie?

LOUIS--You said it was not a lie.

ABBOT-- It is a lie
Until they know that it is not a lie.
As I do.

LOUIS-- Will you tell them?

ABBOT-- (_Walking about._)
I am bound,
Bound hand and foot by cursed policy.
I cannot be a man.

LOUIS-- Many a church
Has lies like this above the altar place.

ABBOT--My abbey was to be part of the one.

LOUIS-- (_After a pause._)
You said, "Until they know it," Father.

ABBOT-- Yes.

LOUIS--"As I do." (_The Abbot turns._)
Do you doubt it was the dwarf?

ABBOT--I do not doubt the fact in the case, but
I may not limit its significance.

LOUIS-- (_With a smile._)
An angel or a god, then?

ABBOT-- Half so, yes.

LOUIS--To free us from our policy?

ABBOT-- Pray God
It may be, Louis, pray God it may be.
That unknown god should have an altar here.
No, Louis: what I mean is simply this:
This thing that we call evil, may it not
Be the other side of this thing we call good,
The passing of bright planets of the mind,
Dreaming eclipse that is no thing at all,
Simply the passing of the two things, both bright?
God ever wrestles with his shadow, Louis,
And now the bright goes down and now the dark:
And man stands by and watches the great game
With heart divided and with swaying mind
And lifts whichever falls. The game goes on
Forever, and the nations rise and fall
Forever, and fall and rise. And so they strive,
Like light and shade over the mountain slopes,
Each wrestling not for victory but strength.

LOUIS--And you and Benedict?

ABBOT-- I am not his foe.
I come from Florence and he comes from Rome.

LOUIS--And you love painted windows.

ABBOT-- I love God;
He loves the Church. There is the difference.
He iterates with fire in his eyes
That Heathendom shall tumble down to Hell,
But not a word that Ignorance shall fall
Or Passion lose her lightning in the deep.
I wrestle with the bright against the dark.

LOUIS--For the world-soul.

ABBOT-- Neither of us may win.
In fact, I pray God that we may not.

LOUIS-- How?

ABBOT--I hope that some free, some _free_ spirit may win.
Not one wrapped round with ignorance, nor one
Bound hand and foot by cursed policy.
But I am not his foe.

LOUIS-- But he is yours.

ABBOT--Night does not understand.

LOUIS-- I cannot see.

ABBOT--Louis, the greatest man in this great world
Is he who sees all things are going right.
Yet fights as though all things were going wrong.

(_Louis shakes his head._)

I know you don't. But I can do no more
Than show my thought. To see it, must be yours.

LOUIS--Then Oswald's fall--

ABBOT-- Not if it gives him strength
To do the work his spirit bids him do,
To wrestle with the dark and with the bright,
To wrestle better than he did before.
And shake the fruit down of that prophesy.
Who knows what God behind the horizon holds
For Oswald till the dawning of that day?
I somehow feel the dream is, as it were,
The warp to which the prophesy is woof,
And that beneath the hills unseen a loom
Rocks as it weaves in dogs and storm and deer
And underneath the meaning of it all.
But I was speaking of the witch's son.
This pebble here I take up in my hand.
I turn it, yet I always see one side.
The other side is toward the underworld,
And though I turned it till the Judgment Day,
That side would still be round there. Bid it grow,
Swell to a bowlder's, now the chapel's size,
And now a globe's. And let us hold it thus.
Above us, on our palms. Like Atlas now
I stand supporting it. (_Pointing as though under the globe._)
Down here I see
A little night following a little day
About a water-drop, a grain of sand,
A point in which my spirit lives and moves. (_Reaching up and around._)
How do I know that up here are not worlds
Lit with Gods' providence and bathed with soul?
What is my thought that it should scale these zones
And take my law of good and evil there
And recreate that life to what I know?
Is my eye God's, that it should see all things?
From what far mountains come the grains of gold
That sparkle in the river of my soul?
Ranges of being and tall peaks of thought
May hold up here a brighter metal still,
Some burning thing would dry my river bed.
The dreams that vein the dark sky of our sleep,
As lightnings vein the night and then are gone,
Whence come they and whither go they, that they leave
Vast expectation and the vacant eye?
And out beyond the chalice of our sleep
That cases round my dew-drop soul, who knows
What oceans roar with life beyond our life,
And spray with stars the dark rocks of the void?
How do I know what creatures come and go
Beyond my little line of night and day,
Doing the will of the Eternal Mind?
I am not Benedict to say, "This is He,
And this is not."

LOUIS-- Not even of the dwarf?

ABBOT--God is the author of the book we see
Whose pages are the mountains and the stars.
Though He may sit aloof, his soul pervades
Each word and letter. Prowling in the spring,
The mountain lion feels Him in her paws,
And the wild creatures of the caves are His.

LOUIS--Was He in Oswald's fall?

ABBOT-- 'Tis past my thought
How He should not be;--in his rising, too.
If God is with me when I climb a hill,
When I descend do I leave God somewhere
Upon the top? If only he ascends,
How came he in the valley, then, at first?
Only the ignorant halve the universe
And thresh events and say, "The _wheat_ is God's,"
Piecing their small minds out with nothingness.
The chaff too served its purpose in its time
And while it served its purpose it was good
And like the wheat it drew its strength from God.
Having served its end, is wheat itself not chaff?
If Oswald's fall is evil in our minds,
It is because we do not see its place.
But where my knowledge ends, does God end, too?
Our brother tumbling from the bluff that night
Into the gorge, but tumbled, as it were,
Off of God's fingers into his great palm.
Ascent and descent are in one straight line.
I see no angle in the universe,
A break in things, a point where God begins
And Satan ends. If, in this strange event,
The people see a movement of the sky
And stand amazed, I stand even more amazed
At what I see than they at seraphim.
For what I see is darkness giving light,
An earth-born thing showing capacity
For deeds divine, and busy in the dark
Not with its own low nature but with God.
I grapple with it and my light goes out.
I feel as though I walked in a strong wind
Along a reed, with only faith for eyes.
Reason calls it to me with a blind man's voice.
That helplessness should bring an angel down,
Is that as wonderful as that it should bring
A devil up to do an angel's work?
What _we_ see, Louis, is the miracle.
What _they_ see, while it jars our sense of things,
Falls nicely into the mental harmony.

LOUIS--Good becomes evil having served its end.
How Benedict would rage should he hear this.

ABBOT--Each mind takes of the light what it can hold.

LOUIS--You know that day in the scriptorium,
When you were reading the Symposium,
What he said, do you remember?

ABBOT-- Yes, I do.

LOUIS--"If I had my way I would burn that thing."

ABBOT--A beam of the sunshine hurts the owl's eyes.

LOUIS--And he would peck the stars out if he could.

ABBOT--As though our faith were fungus!

LOUIS-- If it be,
If it must feed on darkness, let it die.

ABBOT-- (_Walking about thoughtfully._)
It need not feed on darkness, Louis.

LOUIS-- This
Miracle, Father, will bring back the day.

ABBOT-- (_To himself._)
The Age is torn and shaken. Passions swell
And range like winter rivers. I would have it
Lucid and calm as Arno flowing down
By sacred Florence. I am far away,
Far away and my hairs begin to fall.

LOUIS--This will bring back the day.

ABBOT-- (_To himself._) And nothing done.

(_He stands with his eyes upon the ground. Then,
dreamily._)

Young faces radiant with the golden air
That Plato breathed among the olive leaves.

LOUIS-- (_Half aloud._)
"If I had my way I would burn that thing."

ABBOT-- (_Half to himself, his back to Louis._)
And if I had my way--(_He lifts his face._)--
Oh, I would build
An abbey! I would cut its trenches deep
Down into God, the God of all things. Then
I would lay the white stones of Philosophy,
The Sages who, as gifts to Delphi, brought
Small sheaves of wisdom, offering them to God
As better gifts than first born bulls and goats.
And I would slay the griffin, Policy,
And scatter its bright gold about the world
And lay its carcass for the corner stone.
Its telamons should be those giant men
Who propt the fabric of the ancient world.
The east and west and north and south should lay
Their four white corners on the four broad backs
Of Plato and his solid pupil's mind,
Then him who dove too deep for Rome to see,
Lucretius, maddening round the seeds of things,
And Cicero because he loved the truth.
And there should stand all round as peristyle
The Bards of Greece in cluster, speaking gold;
Young Sappho with the glory of the sea
All round her milk white throat and marble arms,
Proud Pindar fawning kings, and Sophocles,
And he, he, Aeschylus, wild son of fire,
Who never swerved for mincing Policy,
But spake his sea-thought out and shook the world.
Its roof should be the shields of golden song
Wherever burning on the hills of Time,
Wherever smouldering in Eternity.
And I would have all planets God hath hung
Since first His word went forth, "Let there be light,"
Within our spiritual heaven, shining here
Without eclipse forever. And up there,
In alto relievo on the frieze, should be
Apollo slaying python Ignorance,
And Darkness with the face of Benedict
Half hung down, heavy, livid, hands and teeth
Tugging and biting at the architrave
To tear these golden letters from the slab.
"THE SOUL IS IN THE BRAIN." And over all,
Towering with her calm eternal eyes,
Athene, soul of Athens, holy One.
Oh, I would build an abbey!

LOUIS--(_As in prayer._) Father! Father!

GUIDO-- (_Appearing at the door of the chapel._)
The fifteenth chapter has that blue stain on it.

ABBOT-- (_Pointing right._)
In the scriptorium, the second shelf;
Get the Symposium; I will read that.

(_Horrified, the monk stands for a moment, then
goes slowly down the steps across the court,
every now and then glancing back over his
shoulder at the Abbot._)

LOUIS-- (_In a low voice._)
Remember, Father. Is this policy. (_A pause._)
You know your abbey is not risen yet.

(_The Abbot bows_ _his head. Louis lifts his
hand as a signal. Guido,_ _crossing the court,
stops and stands waiting._)

One breath of this would bring the rafters down. (_A pause._)

ABBOT-- (_Turning, with his eyes closed._)
The other Bible, Guido.

(_The monk quickens his step and_ _enters the
dormitory._)

LOUIS-- And you know
Some of the brothers might tell Benedict,
And he would send it blazing down to Rome.

ABBOT--Lamp after lamp goes out for policy.

(_He opens the gate through which Ely passed._)

LOUIS--Better one lamp than total darkness, though.

ABBOT--Say nothing to the carriers of the affair.

LOUIS--Have you cautioned Oswald?

ABBOT--(_Astounded._) Cautioned Oswald?

LOUIS-- Yes.

ABBOT--You said he was unconscious.

LOUIS-- When I found him
He was unconscious. But from what he dropped
Yesterday in his cell, I am sure he knows
It was the dwarf that brought him up the rocks.

ABBOT--You should have told me that. (_He walks to and fro._)

LOUIS-- Where is he now?

ABBOT--He had four golden letters to put on.

LOUIS--Down in the village at his work again!
Why, Father!

ABBOT-- He insisted.

LOUIS-- (_Under his breath._) Benedict! (_A silence._)

ABBOT--Get ready and go down. A word from him,
And down the abbey falls.

LOUIS--Never to rise.

ABBOT--And yet--
I do not think he'll tell it. Rumor, you know,
Has stamped an image on the heated mind.
They never could efface it by a thought
So monsterous as that devils had turned saints
And tripped the air with angels, hand in hand,
Moving as musically as summer stars.
Having no coin that bears the face of truth
They never will suspect a counterfeit,
And so no one will put the question to him.
Unquestioned, certainly Oswald will not speak.

LOUIS--But if he should? (_A pause._)
Awhile ago you prayed
Some god to free us from our policy. (_A pause._)
What time did he go down?

ABBOT--Before day-break.
The town at that time would have been asleep.

LOUIS--And Benedict, who never sleeps?

ABBOT--Go down.

LOUIS--Whose dragon eyes are ever open?

(_He starts toward the dormitory._)

ABBOT--Stay.

LOUIS--Supposing Oswald has already told?
If he has, Benedict will come up here
Raging as upon a den of wolves. Then.
If he should say: "Ha! So it was the dwarf
And not an angel saved your monk. And here
You pass the deed off as a miracle
To swell your abbey's revenues and rob
Me of the alms of my parishioners?"
He sees me coming down the mountain side
And shouts this at me, and I say to him--?

ABBOT--Surprised, amazed, you lift your hands: "Mon Dieu!
A son of Satan save St. Giles' child!
Do devils, then, wait upon men of God
Working salvation? Do they? If they do,
What means this storm of banners in the dawn,
This, 'Dieu le volt!' and these bright harnassed knights
Trampling the Orient into battle smoke?
Why this vast tumult in the dead sunrise?
If devils will take up arms and fight for God,
Why roll these human surges down the East
To smoke and break about the Sepulcher
In hard white foam from which the ravens fly?
Let Hell lead forth her legions from the pit
Impervious to drought and pain alike,
To take and guard the Tomb. No, Father, no.
'Tis blasphemy, the unforgiven sin,
To ascribe to Hell a deed that God hath done."

LOUIS--Says Father Benedict: "But brother Oswald
Told me himself it was the witch's son."

ABBOT--"Mon Dieu again! Could Father keep his wits
After a fall like that, and, rising, say:
'This is the hand that struck me, this that saved'?
It was the dwarf that threw the brother down."
With words like these, chisels of policy,
Upon the shield of each returning knight
That hath spilt blood about the Sepulcher,
We carve an angel that shall plead our cause
Through all the fields and villages of France
And far on into the North and--Ah, this train!
This train shall be the trumpet that shall blow
Our miracle abroad through Italy,
And Italy is the trumpet of the world.
Talk to the strangers then of shooting stars,
Of sounds of heavenly music in the night,
But only when a question calls it forth.
Climbing the tree gives flavor to the fruit.
Be reticent; that will add majesty.
Appear subdued and point to yonder peaks
Where, in the gray dawn, gleams of vanishing wings
Shone on the mountain snows like molten gold.
You understand? About the witch's son,
_Adeste cum silentio._

(_After passing out through the gate, the Abbot
turns and calls after Louis, who is crossing
the court._)

Louis,
No word as yet to Oswald of the dream.
He would not see the glory of it now,
Only the horror. I should fear the result.

BASIL-- (_Coming from behind the chapel._)
Macias is coming with another sorel. (_Louis enters the dormitory._)
Bah, then! Go on. St. Christopher. Plum-head.

(_Drawing himself up as Rene and Simon come from
behind the chapel._)

I am the Prior. Down, St. Peter! John!

RENE-- (_To Simon._)
Matthew, thou publican!

SIMON-- Bacchus, thou saint!

(_He points forward to the corner of the dormitory
where Pierre and his companions enter with
the wine vessels which they proceed to place
beside the wall._)

BASIL--Simply the old clothes of My Lady Wine.

FIRST MONK--The blessed Virgin grant it be the train.
I had half yielded to old Andrew's dream;
I feared the train was lost.

SECOND MONK-- Another dream?

FIRST MONK--Last night, between the glances of the moon,
While his soul grabbled in the fogs of sleep,
He beheld Father's new cope in a brook,
Swishing against a fallen sycamore.
The censer and the golden chalices
Lay gleaming on the gravel.

SIMON-- (_Who has been tipping the casks._)
And the wine?

FIRST MONK--While he was hunting for it in his dream,
Like a blind weasel for a nest of eggs,
And had his hand on what felt like a skin,
The matins rang. He's been gruff ever since.
There's not a holy bell can call to prayer
To smooth our spirits with the thought of God,
But brings him from his hole with ruffled quills,
Threatening the belfry with his palmer's staff.
He says he hopes the Devil has snared the train
And spurred the asses off the bluffs to Hell.

SIMON--Now God forbid, with all that precious wine!

LEO-- (_To Basil._)
I shall tell Father on you.

BASIL--(_Imitating Leo's small voice._) Hear him roar!

RENE--If you roar, Lion, when the hunter comes--

SOLOMAN-- (_Leaning out of the window._)
_Heus, heus, O fratres, favete linguis!_
The train is safe. The tigers of the god
Are ramping down the mountain, yoked in vines
Whose dangling clusters sway their tawny backs
And purple all the sky above the peaks.
Limp in the car the noisy Bromios
Tips the full cup and stains his ivory breast.
Look, yonder his herald, plump Silenus, comes!

(_He points up the mountain over the gate through
which the Abbot passed._)

RENE--Ho, that's the occasion of the trumpet blast!

FIRST MONK--No need of casks.

BASIL-- No need of empty casks.
This is keel that draws five fathoms full.

RENE--And where it anchors, there a reef appears.

BASIL--And where it founders, there the--sea goes down.

RENE--Its beak hath ta'en the color o' the wave.

SIMON-- (_To_ FIRST MONK.)
If Father Benedict had had the train
Or been among the muleteers, I'd say
No wonder Andrew couldn't find the wine.

RENE--Come on, Simon; let's go meet Macias.

BASIL--If we can't wine it we can dine it.

SIMON--(_As he passes Leo._) Bah!

LOUIS--

(_Dressed for travel, appearing at the corner of
the dormitory._)

Are they in sight yet?