The Borderers Read Online

The blind Man

Shall feign a sudden illness, and the Girl,

Who on her journey must proceed alone,

Under pretence of violence, be seized.

She is«, continued the detested Slave,

»She is right willing – strange if she were not! –

They say Lord Clifford is a savage man;

But, faith, to see him in his silken tunic,

Fitting his low voice to the minstrel's harp,

There's witchery in't. I never knew a maid

That could withstand it. True,« continued he,

»When we arranged the affair, she wept a little

(Not the less welcome to my Lord for that)

And said, 'My Father he will have it so.'«

MAR.

I am your hearer.

OSW.

This I caught, and more

That may not be retold to any ear.

The obstinate bolt of a small iron door

Detained them near the gateway of the Castle.

By a dim lantern's light I saw that wreaths

Of flowers were in their hands, as if designed

For festive decoration; and they said,

With brutal laughter and most foul allusion,

That they should share the banquet with their Lord

And his new Favorite.

MAR.

Misery! –

OSW.

I knew

How you would be disturbed by this dire news,

And therefore chose this solitary Moor,

Here to impart the tale, of which, last night,

I strove to ease my mind, when our two Comrades,

Commissioned by the Band, burst in upon us.

MAR.

Last night, when moved to lift the avenging steel,

I did believe all things were shadows – yea,

Living or dead all things were bodiless,

Or but the mutual mockeries of body,

Till that same star summoned me back again.

Now I could laugh till my ribs ached. Oh Fool!

To let a creed, built in the heart of things,

Dissolve before a twinkling atom! – Oswald,

I could fetch lessons out of wiser schools

Than you have entered, were it worth the pains.

Young as I am, I might go forth a teacher,

And you should see how deeply I could reason

Of love in all its shapes, beginnings, ends;

Of moral qualities in their diverse aspects;

Of actions, and their laws and tendencies.

OSW.

You take it as it merits –

MAR.

One a King,

General or Cham, Sultan or Emperor,

Strews twenty acres of good meadow-ground

With carcasses, in lineament and shape

And substance, nothing differing from his own,

But that they cannot stand up of themselves;

Another sits i' th' sun, and by the hour

Floats kingcups in the brook – a Hero one

We call, and scorn the other as Time's spendthrift;

But have they not a world of common ground

To occupy – both fools, or wise alike,

Each in his way?

OSW.

Troth, I begin to think so.

MAR.

Now for the corner-stone of my philosophy:

I would not give a denier for the man

Who, on such provocation as this earth

Yields, could not chuck his babe beneath the chin,

And send it with a fillip to its grave.

OSW.

Nay, you leave me behind.

MAR.

That such a One,

So pious in demeanour! in his look

So saintly and so pure! – Hark'ee, my Friend,

I'll plant myself before Lord Clifford's Castle,

A surly mastiff kennels at the gate,

And he shall howl and I will laugh, a medley

Most tunable.

OSW.

In faith, a pleasant scheme;

But take your sword along with you, for that

Might in such neighbourhood find seemly use. –

But first, how wash our hands of this old Man?

MAR.

Oh yes, that mole, that viper in the path;

Plague on my memory, him I had forgotten.

OSW.

You know we left him sitting – see him yonder.

MAR.

Ha! ha! –

OSW.

As 'twill be but a moment's work,

I will stroll on; you follow when 'tis done.

Exeunt.

Scene changes to another part of the Moor at a short distance –

Herbert is discovered seated on a stone.

HER.

A sound of laughter, too! – 'tis well – I feared

The Stranger had some pitiable sorrow

Pressing upon his solitary heart.

Hush! – 'tis the feeble and earth-loving wind

That creeps along the bells of the crisp heather.

Alas! 'tis cold – I shiver in the sunshine –

What can this mean? There is a psalm that speaks

Of God's parental mercies – with Idonea

I used to sing it. – Listen! – what foot is there?

Enter Marmaduke.

MAR aside – looking at Herbert.

And I have loved this Man! and she hath loved him!

And I loved her, and she loves the Lord Clifford!

And there it ends; – if this be not enough

To make mankind merry for evermore,

Then plain it is as day that eyes were made

For a wise purpose – verily to weep with!

Looking round.

A pretty prospect this, a masterpiece

Of Nature, finished with most curious skill!

To Herbert.

Good Baron, have you ever practised tillage?

Pray tell me what this land is worth by the acre?

HER.

How glad I am to hear your voice! I know not

Wherein I have offended you; – last night

I found in you the kindest of Protectors;

This morning, when I spoke of weariness,

You from my shoulder took my scrip and threw it

About your own; but for these two hours past

Once only have you spoken, when the lark

Whirred from among the fern beneath our feet,

And I, no coward in my better days,

Was almost terrified.

MAR.

That's excellent! –

So you bethought you of the many ways

In which a man may come to his end, whose crimes

Have roused all Nature up against him – pshaw! –

HER.

For mercy's sake, is nobody in sight?

No traveller, peasant, herdsman?

MAR.

Not a soul:

Here is a tree, ragged, and bent, and bare,

That turns its goat's-beard flakes of pea-green moss

From the stern breathing of the rough sea-wind;

This have we, but no other company:

Commend me to the place. If a man should die

And leave his body here, it were all one

As he were twenty fathoms underground.

HER.

Where is our common Friend?

MAR.

A ghost, methinks –

The Spirit of a murdered man, for instance –

Might have fine room to ramble about here,

A grand domain to squeak and gibber in.

HER.

Lost Man! if thou have any close-pent guilt

Pressing upon thy heart, and this the hour

Of visitation –

MAR.

A bold word from you!

HER.

Restore him, Heaven!

MAR.

The desperate Wretch! – A Flower,

Fairest of all flowers, was she once, but now

They have snapped her from the stem – Poh! let her lie

Besoiled with mire, and let the houseless snail

Feed on her leaves. You knew her well – ay, there,

Old Man! you were a very Lynx, you knew

The worm was in her –

HER.

Mercy! Sir, what mean you?

MAR.

You have a Daughter!

HER.

Oh that she were here! –

She hath an eye that sinks into all hearts,

And if I have in aught offended you,

Soon would her gentle voice make peace between us.

MAR aside.

I do believe he weeps – I could weep too –

There is a vein of her voice that runs through his:

Even such a Man my fancy bodied forth

From the first moment that I loved the Maid;

And for his sake I loved her more: these tears –

I did not think that aught was left in me

Of what I have been – yes, I thank thee, Heaven!

One happy thought has passed across my mind.

– It may not be – I am cut off from man;

No more shall I be man – no more shall I

Have human feelings! –

To Herbert

– Now, for a little more

About your Daughter!

HER.

Troops of armed men,

Met in the roads, would bless us; little children,

Rushing along in the full tide of play,

Stood silent as we passed them! I have heard

The boisterous carman, in the miry road,

Check his loud whip and hail us with mild voice,

And speak with milder voice to his poor beasts.

MAR.

And whither were you going?

HER.

Learn, young Man,

To fear the virtuous, and reverence misery,

Whether too much for patience, or, like mine,

Softened till it becomes a gift of mercy.

MAR.

Now, this is as it should be!

HER.

I am weak! –

My Daughter does not know how weak I am;

And, as thou see'st, under the arch of heaven

Here do I stand, alone, to helplessness,

By the good God, our common Father, doomed! –

But I had once a spirit and an arm –

MAR.

Now, for a word about your Barony:

I fancy when you left the Holy Land,

And came to – what's your title – eh? your claims

Were undisputed!

HER.

Like a mendicant,

Whom no one comes to meet, I stood alone; –

I murmured – but, remembering Him who feeds

The pelican and ostrich of the desert,

From my own threshold I looked up to Heaven

And did not want glimmerings of quiet hope.

So from the court I passed, and down the brook,

Led by its murmur, to the ancient oak

I came; and when I felt its cooling shade,

I sate me down, and cannot but believe –

While in my lap I held my little Babe

And clasped her to my heart, my heart that ached

More with delight than grief – I heard a voice

Such as by Cherith on Elijah called;

It said, »I will be with thee.« A little boy,

A shepherd-lad, ere yet my trance was gone,

Hailed us as if he had been sent from heaven,

And said, with tears, that he would be our guide:

I had a better guide – that innocent Babe –

Her, who hath saved me, to this hour, from harm,

From cold, from hunger, penury, and death;

To whom I owe the best of all the good

I have, or wish for, upon earth – and more

And higher far than lies within earth's bounds:

Therefore I bless her: when I think of Man,

I bless her with sad spirit, – when of God,

I bless her in the fulness of my joy!

MAR.

The name of daughter in his mouth, he prays!

With nerves so steady, that the very flies

Sit unmolested on his staff. – Innocent! –

If he were innocent – then he would tremble

And be disturbed, as I am.

Turning aside.

I have read

In Story, what men now alive have witnessed,

How, when the People's mind was racked with doubt,

Appeal was made to the great Judge: the Accused

With naked feet walked over burning ploughshares.

Here is a Man by Nature's hand prepared

For a like trial, but more merciful.

Why else have I been led to this bleak Waste?

Bare is it, without house or track, and destitute

Of obvious shelter, as a shipless sea.

Here will I leave him – here – All-seeing God!

Such as he is, and sore perplexed as I am,

I will commit him to this final Ordeal! –

He heard a voice – a shepherd-lad came to him

And was his guide; if once, why not again,

And in this desert? If never – then the whole

Of what he says, and looks, and does, and is,

Makes up one damning falsehood. Leave him here

To cold and hunger! – Pain is of the heart,

And what are a few throes of bodily suffering

If they can waken one pang of remorse?

Goes up to Herbert.

Old Man! my wrath is as a flame burnt out,

It cannot be rekindled. Thou art here

Led by my hand to save thee from perdition;

Thou wilt have time to breathe and think –

HER.

Oh, Mercy!

MAR.

I know the need that all men have of mercy,

And therefore leave thee to a righteous judgment.

HER.

My Child, my blessèd Child!

MAR.

No more of that;

Thou wilt have many guides if thou art innocent;

Yea, from the utmost corners of the earth,

That Woman will come o'er this Waste to save thee.

He pauses and looks at Herbert's staff.

Ha! what is here? and carved by her own hand!

Reads upon the staff.

»I am eyes to the blind, saith the Lord.

He that puts his trust in me shall not fail!«

Yes, be it so; – repent and be forgiven –

God and that staff are now thy only guides.

He leaves Herbert on the Moor.

Scene, an eminence, a Beacon on the summit.

Lacy, Wallace, Lennox, etc. etc.

SEVERAL OF THE BAND confusedly.

But patience!

ONE OF THE BAND.

Curses on that Traitor, Oswald! –

Our Captain made a prey to foul device! –

LEN to Wallace.

His tool, the wandering Beggar, made last night

A plain confession, such as leaves no doubt,

Knowing what otherwise we know too well,

That she revealed the truth. Stand by me now;

For rather would I have a nest of vipers

Between my breast-plate and my skin than make

Oswald my special enemy, if you

Deny me your support.

LACY.

We have been fooled –

But for the motive?

WAL.

Natures such as his

Spin motives out of their own bowels, Lacy!

I learn'd this when I was a Confessor.

I know him well; there needs no other motive

Than that most strange incontinence in crime

Which haunts this Oswald. Power is life to him

And breath and being; where he cannot govern,

He will destroy.

LACY.

To have been trapped like moles! –

Yes, you are right, we need not hunt for motives:

There is no crime from which this man would shrink;

He recks not human law; and I have noticed

That often, when the name of God is uttered,

A sudden blankness overspreads his face.

LEN.

Yet, reasoner as he is, his pride has built

Some uncouth superstition of its own.

WAL.

I have seen traces of it.

LEN.

Once he headed

A band of Pirates in the Norway seas;

And when the King of Denmark summoned him

To the oath of fealty, I well remember,

'Twas a strange answer that he made; he said,

»I hold of Spirits, and the Sun in heaven.«

LACY.

He is no madman.

WAL.

A most subtle doctor

Were that man, who could draw the line that parts

Pride and her daughter, Cruelty, from Madness,

That should be scourged, not pitied. Restless Minds,

Such Minds as find amid their fellow-men

No heart that loves them, none that they can love,

Will turn perforce and seek for sympathy

In dim relation to imagined Beings.

ONE OF THE BAND.

What if he mean to offer up our Captain

An expiation and a sacrifice

To those infernal fiends!

WAL.

Now, if the event

Should be as Lennox has foretold, then swear,

My Friends, his heart shall have as many wounds

As there are daggers here.

LACY.

What need of swearing!

ONE OF THE BAND.

Let us away!

ANOTHER.

Away!

A THIRD.

Hark! how the horns

Of those Scotch Rovers echo through the vale.

LACY.

Stay you behind; and, when the sun is down,

Light up this beacon.

ONE OF THE BAND.

You shall be obeyed.

They go out together.

Scene, the Wood on the edge of the Moor. Marmaduke (alone.

MAR.

Deep, deep and vast, vast beyond human thought,

Yet calm. – I could believe that there was here

The only quiet heart on earth. In terror,

Remembered terror, there is peace and rest.

Enter Oswald.

OSW.

Ha! my dear Captain.