m ." '-i^*^- te Sfiia m -^m I ^*^ g!^?5lil..'^'^1^ The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013564335 THE POISON-FLOWER, A pijantasf, in Wljvn ^cmt&, {Suggested by I-TauiJwrnc's " Rappaeini's Daughter.") JOHN TODHUNTER, Author of " Helena in Troas," JUNE, 1891, ,'; ■■/ ,, ', - Vj' I , [All Rights reserved.] KEniiirmi: 'NASSAU STEAM PRESS," LIMITED, 60 ST. MARTIN'S LANE, CHARING CROSS, W.C. PERSONS. GlACOMO Rappacini Giovanni Guasconti Celio Ruffini - Beatrice - LiSABETTA - A Doctor of Medicine in the University of Padua. A Student of the Humanities. A Student of Medicine. Rappacini's Daughter. An old Servant. The Scene is laid in Padua in the latter half of the Fifteenth Century, THE POISON-PLOWEE, ■:o:- ScENE I. — GuASCONTl's Chamber in the Palazzo Mattel. The scene represents an apartment with malls panelled in cedar to three-quarters of their height. Above the panelling is a frieze of stamped leather. The covered ceiling is painted with arabesques. A corner of the room recedes towards the centre of the stage. In a re-entrant angle (r) is set a window with leaded glass, which looks into Rappacini's garden'. On the wall of the re-entrant angle facing the footlights hattgs a mirror. In the corner of the room farthest from the foot- lights, a crucifix hangs. In the wall (l) near the front is a door, beyond which is a shelf with books. Against this wall under the bookshelf stands a, table, in front of which is an armchair. Another chair is placed between the table and the door, and a third against the (r) wall, near the mirror. A curtain is drawn across the window. Enter by the door (l) Lisabetta ushering in Guasconti, He places his cloak, sword, and hat upon the chair by the door, and looks round. GuAs. Heigho ! Lisa. Gesvl'Maria ! What a sigh from a young breast ? Are these apartments not to the gentleman's mind ? GuAs. Somewhat gloomy perhaps. Lisa. Ah ! the gentleman is from the south, I see. GuAS. From Naples. Lisa. His honour must love learning to come all that way to Padua to study. But the good God sends us his sunshine here as well as in the south. There ! {She draws back the curtain. The sunshine streams in.) G0AS. Ay, that is more cheerful. Whose arms are these ? Lisa. Why, whose but the Count Mattel's. GuAS. This, then, was his own house ? Lisa. O surely, surely ! These are his Excellency's own apartments, the only part of the Palazzo he Iceeps now. But he comes seldom to town, and quits us soon. Guas. Absit omen ! {Looking out of the window.) But what a quaint old garden ! Is this the Count's ? Lisa. Ay, surely, the Count's it is. But it is the queer pot-herbs grow there now. {In a low voice.) 'Tis given over to Signer Rappacini, the famous doctor; and there he works early and late, and they tell strange stories of his doings among the baleful plants he grows in it. GuAS. Rappacini? I have heard his name. He must be curious in poisons. A terrible garden indeed. Lisa. Poisons or cures, God knows. But they do say — {crossing herself) — that God Almighty never made half the wicked -looking things that grow in that garden. GuAs. It might well be. Lisa. Is there anything further his honour commands ? GuAS. A flask of good wine, dame. I expect a friend. Lisa. That you shall have, signer, and welcome. (Exit LisABETTA. GuAscoNTi leaving the window, draws the armchair away from the table and seats himself.) GuAS. In Padua, at last in Padua ! So far upon the high road of my hopes. And yet— (sighs) — the musk of cobwebbed ancientry Breathes from the dusky panel of these walls. This chamber haunts my sense with silent speech, Words that veil mysteries, like the blanching tale A ghost would tell, but may not. {He rises and takes down a book from the shelf.) All I see Is new, and yet familiar ; and I act As on a stage, the memory of a dream. {He gazes at the crucifix.) Each moment whispers: " This thou hast lived before." {He turns towards the corner where the mirror hangs.) A mirror should hang here : and here it hangs ! How pale and strange my face looks. I'll not gaze. Lest shuddering expectation make me mad. (Beatrice's voice is heard singing in the garden.) Beatrice's Song, Heap me a mound of holy spice, With camphor, sandal, cinnamon. Gums and rich balms, like that whereon The magian phoenix burns and dies ! There let pale women hush their cries To do in desolate array Soft rites, and chant low litanies, Till thunders roll around the skirts of day : Then fling the torch and come away, Come away, and leave the kindled pyre Where love lies dead, that was the world's desire. (GuAScoNTi listens intently, then runs to the window, looks out, and draws back dis- appointed.) GuAs. I knew I should see nothing. But that voice ! Earth has her siren ; all my senses sing. And the lone caverns of my unstopped ear Sound on, remurmuring magical melody. O rich remembrancer of worlds unknown For which I am long homesick, sing once more ! {He draws the armchair to the h'indow and sits.) Beatrice's Song {further off). The aloe feels the year of years. Wakes, and the wandering bees it calls — (He looks out again, the song ends abruptly.) GuAS. I knew I should see nothing, sive the glow Of noon o'er that dread garden, where methinks Each venomous thing sprouts rankly as the weeds Upon forgotten graves. In the deep hush No cricket's tune is heard, only the stir Of some quick-darting lizard. Sleeping snakes Bask on hot stones, coiled furies, in the sun, Enough to furnish cold Medusa's hair ; And snake-like plants for which I have no name. Pant from their gorgeous flowers, drinking the blaze. Subtle intoxication. I grow faint With the sweet horror. O that song ! that song Voluptuous Lilith sang o'er Adam's sleep And flushed his blood with sensuous sorcery ! {A knock heard.) GuAS. Come in. Re-enter Lisabetta with wine and flowers which she sets uii the table. Lisa. The wine, signer. GuAs. Thanks, dame. Lisa. And I have made bold to bring your honour some homely flowers from wholesome gardens, to brighten up the chamber. GuAS. (Rising and coming forward) A thousand thanks, good mother. Lisa. (Placing the flowers in u vase) Lilies of the Madonna— there is no poison in them I warrant you. Beatrice sings. Love is reborn, that is the world's desire. GuAS. What rare creature sings in the garden? Lisa. (Crossing herself) Sings, signer ? Holy Virgiu, and you have heard Rappacini's daughter sing ? Guas. She or some siren. ' Lisa. That bodes no good, for they say her song can drive men mad. GuAS. Well, well, be that as it may. . When my friend comes, show him up. Thanks for the flowers. Lisa. Now St. Anthony of Padua be your guard, young man ! GuAS. Amen, good dame. (Exit Lisabetta.) If 'twere my fate to see her ? (He returns to the window.) Lords of life, 'Tis she ! How all the garden's potencies Burn clear in her, the goddess of the garden ! She treads the earth like purple Ashtaroth, The splendid flower of earth's dread motherhood. Yet virginal as lilies of the chamber Where Mary knelt, and heard the angels' " Hail ! " O she draws near ! her subtle effluence fills The ajr with rapture ! Nay, I dare not look, Lest I should meet her eyes. (He drinc's hack from the ivinduw.) Yet I will dare — I iiuist — these flowers shall be my messengers. (He takes a spray of lilies from the vase and looks out.) She doth enrich the sunshine, for its flame, Transfigured in her blood, glows on her cheek, And in her beauty wins superbest life. Voice of Bea. Hail, hail, my sister splendour ! GuAs. O she speaks ! What mystic rite she does I know not, gliding With sinuous course, a. flower among,the flowers Which as she bends mingle their breath with hers. Horror grows beauty, poison hath no bale, But finds a wholesome use now she is by. What doth she now ? (He leans out of the window, then dru'uJS back.) What rank two-natured thing Is that huge plant wherewith she stands commingled, Branches and arms ? , Voice of Bea. Embrace me, sister mine ! Give me thy deadly kisses, which are life To the unmated passion of my heart. (GuAscoNTi looks out again.) Guas. She kisses those dark flowers, whose lurid hues Glow like the wedded colours of her gown. Purple and orange. Now the rites are done. She goes. Now must I dare it. She looks up, Her lips half parted in a wondering smile. Hail, mystery of the garden, lady hail ! Voice of Bea. Hail to thee, stranger youth ! What is thy name ? Guas. Giovanni del Guasconti. And thine, thine ! Voice of Bea. Beatrice Rappacini. Guas. Beatrice ! (Aside) O more to me than Dante's Beatrice ! (He lets the flowers fall from tlie icinduic.) Take these pure lilies and remember me. If I should never see thy face again. Voice of Bea. Thanks for thy flowers, Giovanni dci Guasconti, And yet they shoot a pang into my heart. Guas. Thou wilt not go ? Voice of Bea. The powers I 'serve constrain. But we must speak once more. Farewell ! farewell ! Guas. Farewell ! So swiftly gone ? She laid my flowers Upon her breast, and straightway she grew pale. And they, methpught, or else my sight was dazed. They withered at her touch — Some wine, some wine ! (He sits at the table, pours out wine and drinks. A knock. Then re-enter Lisabetta, ushering in RUFFINI.) Lisa. Signor Ruffini ! (Exit Lisabetta.) GuAs. Ah, Celio J {He rises and grasps his handi) Ruff. Thou look'st strangely. \ GuAs. Nay, be welcome. Ruff. And welcome thou to Padua ! GuAs. {Bringing forward a chair) Sit and pledge me. {They sit and drink to each other.) Ruff. To the grave Muse of the Humanities, And thy fair nuptial with her ! Lord, I have climbed Higher than Helicon to read thy eyrie. And I arrive still panting. {He looks around.) But sweet saints, How com'st thou here, Giovanni ? These are surely GuAs. The Count Mattel's chambers. Ruff. Knowest thou, then, This Count Mattei ? GuAS. He was my father's friend. (RuFFiNi rises and looks out of the window.) Ruff. O thou art fooled— betrayed ! 'Tis as I thought, , This window looks on Rappacini's garden. GuAs. Well, what of that ? Ruff. I tell thee there's no chink In all the town that on the accursed place Yields an eye's peeping, save this window here. Its fellows, see, along the garden front. Are all made blind with solid masonry. {He comes back into the room and begins tapping the walls with his dagger hilt. In the corner where the mirror hangs he pauses.) Ay, here's the secret stair, this panel slides — So— facilis decensus ! 'Tis locked now. But GuAS. How ! A secret passage to the garden ? (He drinks nervously.) Ruff. Hi ! thou may'st well turn pale ! This Count Mattei Is that grey sorcerer's famulus, his gull. All his estates and fortune are sequestered For Rappacini's use. GuAS. And he, what is he ? Ruff. A sorcerer, man, a sorcerer, in whose hands This garden's hoarded poisons are the tools Wherewith he works. They say he hath a daughter Why leaps the blood into thy kindling cheek ? Thou hast not seen her ' GuAs. Well, suppose I had ? Ruff. Then art thou lost, soul, body, all that makes A man a man. Better thou mad'st thy mistress The vilest ■ Voice of Rappa. Beatrice ! Beatrice ! {They start up, and look out.) Ruff. His voice ! O look you there ! Mark that black spider Which in the garden spreads his web for thee. GuAs. What wears he on his face ? Ruff, A glass mask. See How delicately poisoners handle poison. » He fears the thing he gloats on, gloves his hands, A guard upon his face. They say he feeds His hell-brood with men's ilesh, pours infants' blood For water on those beds of death GuAS. Mere slander : I see no blood. Sweet heaven, she comes again ! Ruff. Back from the window ! O, thou flower of sin ! GuAs. She seeks the fountain. Ruff. I did ne'er believe it ; But there the monstrous mandrake grows indeed. What is that image with the awful face Which 'midst the thronging branches sits enthroned ? GuAS. 'Tis pale Persephone, the triple queen, Potent in earth, and heaven and deepest hell. Ruff. Ha! saw'st thou that ? GuAS. What ? I saw nothing. Ruff. Nothing ? How when she plucked the glowing purple flower GuAS. Methought the shuddering plant gave a deep groan. Ruff. And from the severed stalk fell gouts of blood. One on that lizard on the fountain's rim Dropped, and the beast writhed, and anon lay dead. GuAS. I saw but the swift pity in her face. Ruff. Ha ! there again. Those butterflies ! GuAS. They drop Out of the air Ruff. Slain by her venomed breath. GuAS. It cannot be. Ruff. O thou weak, amorous fool ! That vampire Succuba is poison-proof, Because she feeds on poisons. Back man, back ! The swart enchanter shot a furtive look From his snake 's eyes at thee. GuAS. I felt it not. Now they pass out of sight. [He retires from the wiiido'a'.) Let us sit down. (T/'ej sit and drink.) For God's sake, Celio, tell me what strange tales Are current of this garden ? Rappacini ? What secrets hath he read behind the veil That covers Nature's face ? Ruff. That the Devil knows. Well, heaven be praised, I am not of his sect, But orthodox, of old Baglioni's school. GuAS. Is there, then, controversy 'twixt the pair ? Ruff. Good lord ! the world rings with it. They have ransacked Old classic dunghills for opprobrious terms To daub each other with. GuAS. What is the issue ? Ruff. A hundred several issues — this in chief ; This Rappacini with rank heresy Would postulate a dual sex in God, GuAS. A dual sex ? Ruff. His lewd philosophy Turns all on sex ; and, further, he proclaims The female elder in its origin, ' And nobler in its essence — heresies ! But we have swinged him in three several tracts, And have the latest word. GuAS. But for his practice ? Ruff. They say: {He drinks.) GuAs. What do they say ? Ruff. He would search out In life's red core the mystery of evil, By cursed means. GuAS. What means ? Ruff. He would explore The principle of life, track generation Through earth's protean forms, watch it in operance. Where like an ancient snake it eats the dust And works through cosmic change. GuAS. A glorious aim. He hath dared nobly. Ruff. Hath dared damnably For a fantastic dream. A vaulted cell, Deep underground, he makes his laboratory ; And there, they say, with purposed cruelty He tortures living things, and with the dead Works impious enchantments. Marry, his philtres, Elixirs, balsams, salves have wrought, they say, Strange cures. GuAS. Some dim remembrance comes to me : Did he not stay the plague in Padua ? Ruff. Ay, so the vulgar deem. This and his interest With some lewd potentates whose debauched blood He hath renewed with his foul wizard's broth. Have kept him from the sorcerer's rightful doom. GuAS. But tell me, Celio, of that magic plant Which o'er the fountain casts its evil shade. Ruff. I never yet gave credence to the story Till now. 'Tis his new Eden's tree of life. Sprung from the old root of knowledge. In his tractate, De Sexu, he discourses in vague jargon Of such a plant, which he names Ashtaroth. GuAS. Ashtaroth ? Yes, that name ! what notes he by it? Ruff. {Laughing) Why, womanhood, whose essence earth's rich blood Is symbolled in its colours. GuAS. It moves my soul Like wizai-d's words, with an ecstatic dread. Ruff. Bah ! 'tis mere folly. GuAS. But this poison Hower, Whence hath it sprung ? From what mysterious seed ? Ruff. The fairest woman in fair Italy. Fled from her friends for love of this grey ghoul, To share his secret-lore ; young, highly-born, A widow left well-dowered, and thronged about With suitors, gave lier beauty to this wretch, Was Rappacini's mistress. GuAS. She was then Ruff. Thy. Beatrice's mother. But still worse. I ne'er believed the tale till now. She died : Or as some say, with a new babe unborn Was coffined quick there by the marble fountain, In yon great marble tomb. See where it stands. That monstrous plant, fruit of its cursed womb. GuAS. O horrible \ yet the horror fascinates. Ruff. Thou shalt not stay to nurse thy soul's sick dream. Come, thou shalt share my chamber for to-night. GuAS. No, no, begone — leave me alone — my fate Is in that garden. Ruff. Come with me, Giovanni ! GuAS. Nay, Celio, do not vex me : for by Bacchus A foot I will not budge ! Here is my home. Ruff. By Bacchus and his vats, thou art an ass ! Come, I can show thee women in this town To whom thy siren is a rustic jade. I'll steep thy sense in pleasures that shall make This garden fade with dreams forgotten. GuAS. Pleasures ? Ruff. Sin wholesome sins that are youth's natural spice. And leave mere outward smutches, which but show Upon the man some varnish of this world. GuAs. I hold in loathing every vulgar pleasure. Ruff. Good Lord ! when virtue leads men to the devil. It grows a devil ; and now thou hast a devil Which I would fain cast out. Dice, drink, be wanton In human fashion, revel it like a man ; But deal not in unnatural sorceries. Lose not thy soul, Giovanni. GuAS. O that soul Is lost indeed, which dares not shape itself In action by the laws of its own being! Life holds eternity, there is no other. Ruff. Madman, forego thy rash impiety ! Come with me. {Seizing Guasconti by the arm, he cmieavuitrs to lead him away.) Gu.\s. Never ! (He frees himself, snatches his sword from the chair and draws it.) Hence, upon thy life ; For in my spleen I may prove dangerous. Ruff. There is no parleying with thee in this mood ; But I will save thee yet. Farewell, my hero, Heaven keep thee in thy wits. (Exit Ruffini, l.) GuAS. Amen ! Amen ! We are both mad. So madmen carp at madmen, As poison wars with poison. I could weep now Over the wretchedness of mortal life, Where pleasure grovels in a iilthy sty. But here's my world. How shall I enter ? How ? (He taps with his dagger upon the secret door Beat out my life upon this iron door Like a caged bird. {Knocking heard.) Come in ! Re-enter Lisabetta with a letter. Lisa. A letter for Signor Guasconti. GuAS. Thanks, leave me. {Exit Lisabetta.) What subtle perfume steals into my sense From this white packet ? Wax, yield up thy secret. {He opens the packet and reads.) " Signor Giovanni dei Guasconti. If^ thy soul be pure and thy heart bold to explore the mysteries of my realm, the way is open to thee ; the key is in thy hand. Wear this talisman upon thy breast. — Beatrice." A heart-shaped talisman ; upon the obverse. Graved in a scroll, the legend : Medicatrix Naturae Vis. Upon the reverse— what ? Beatrice's name. And here the key, the key ! Drop Scene falls for one minute. End of Scene i. Scene 2. — Rappacini's garden, afternoon. Across the front of the stage runs an arcade of ^narble arches on light pillars, in the style of Fra Giocondo, the sprandrels decorated with medallions, forming a corridor, the floor of which has a tesse- lated pavement. Through the arches is seen the garden, a broad walk (r) running to the back of the stage, between flower beds ; a row of termini on one side. Halfway up the stage a second walk, with high hedge of box, crosses it at right angles. At the back of the stage a marble staircase leads to a grove of ilex trees on a higher level. A fountain (l) with » marble sarcophagus, out of which grows the great poison plant. Behind this a statue of Persephone amid cypresses. A doorway (r) leads to Rappacini's house. A bench just within the arcade faces the footlights. A brazen incense- burner, in which incense is burning, is placed on the ground near the fountain. The curtain rises to solemn music, showing the stage darkened by an approaching thunderstorm, with flashes of sheet lightning. (Rappacini is seen coming slowly down the main walk. Music.) Rappa. Elohim ! Elohim ! Ye elemental powers Who walk in darkness, yet are purest light. Inspire me now ! I go to my great proof. {He approaches the fountain, and stands with folded arms, gazing at the sarcophagus. Distant thunder heard.) The hour should now be almost come. Maria ! Canst thou speak yet ? Voice of the Dead Woman. I hear thee. Rappa. All is well. O most victorious martyr, holiest saint, Now is our triumph near ! Speak, will the Magi Come to the mystic nuptial, when the blood Weds with the fire. (Thuudey.) Voice. They will surely come. Rappa. Who shall renew the world ? Voice. The Reconciler. Rappa. Barest thou yet speak his name ? Voice. Incarnate Love. Rappa. Tarries he still ? Voice. . He treads the opposing ways. Rappa. When shall they meet in one ? (A loud peal of thunder^ VoiCK. Darkness o'erwhelms me. And silence dumbs my tongue. Farewell ! Farewell ! (The. music ceases. The storm passes slowly away.) Rappa. Enough that thou hast spoken. Beatrice ! (Beatrice appears from the house (r). BiiA. My father ! Kappa. Now creation's mystery Waits its apocalypse. My Beatrice, Daughter of the world's destiny, conceived From the beginning for the world's release ; Mother of its crowning race, new Eve, earth's queen. Fed from the flowers of this mysterious garden, With the sweet honey which hath made men mad, But now shall make them gods, be wise to-day. Bea. What must I do, dear father ? Rappa. What thou wilt. Be free to obey the voice of thine own heart ; And the great Magi, who are lords of life. Endow thy soul with wisdom. (He lays his hands on her head.) Bea. Thou art moved, My father, past all wont. Is there some danger To me or to thy great designs through me ? Rappa. Yes, there is danger. Can'st thou keep the path? Bea. .With exultation, wheresoe'er it lead. Point me the way. " Kappa. The hour brings its own light. Walk in that light. For death, or the new birth. This youth comes to the trial ; and this hour The choosers of the bridegroom choose thro' tiiec. Bka. I lean upon their arms and have no fear. Kaim'a. 'Tis bravely spoken. Come, take uii the brazier, Feed it, and where thou knowest, set it still burning. (Beatrice takes up the brazier, and exit into th( house (r). 13 My lamp of life is flickering to decay, Yet I shall reach the goal. I must, I must ! (Exit, following Beatrice. A pause. Music, during which the sun shines brightly out.) Enter into the corridor (l) Guasconti. He passes into the garden and walks about examining the flowers. GuAS. On wings of wild desire I entered here, A few tumultuous pulse-beats past ; and now A deadly numbness masters heart and soul. The unholy power hymned in Sidonian groves, Works in the curious breeding of these forms Unnatural intermixture. Tigerish things, Alluring flowers breathing voluptuous dreams Of sumptuous Babylonian harlotries, Bask in these closes, where the gendering sun Glows like the thirsty fires of hell. No wind Of wholesome passion stirs my lethargy. Is this the garden's curse? (He sits upon the bench.) Enter Beatrice from the house. She stands gazing at him, then speaks. Bea. I am here, Giovanni. GuAS. Save me ! I sink in an enchanted sleep. Bea. 'Tis the dull apathy of death in life. The talisman ! Sirocco never breathed On man such deadly langour as these flowers. (He kisses the talisman, rises slowly, turns and looks at her.) GuAS. And never where the rosy feet of morn Print first the chesnut glades of Appennine, Fell healing dews more soft than from thine eyes. Bea. O I am glad, and bless the gentle powers That gave them healing, thee to feel it so. Come, let us talk. 1 have a thousand questions To ask of thy strange world. Guas. But first of thine ? Bea. If thou would'st learn this garden's hidden lore. Turn to the ancient wisdom of my father. Guas. Nay, let me be thy pupil, only thine. Art thou not skilled in deep philosophy. Able to teach with thy mellifluous breath Truths more recondite than enriched the tongue Of Virgin-sages of their later Greece ? Bea. (Smiling) Nay, I am no fair sage. Guas. Art thou not then Mistress of magic learning ? Bea. O believe not The tales they tell in the misdeeming world Of me and of my arts. Judge me alone By what thine eyes attest. Guas. ' Prescribe my creed ; Bid me believe thy lips and not mine eyes. And I'll believe them. Bea. (Agitated) What lurks in thy thought ? Guas. I saw — or thought I saw > 14 - . Bea. (Sternly) Give it no tongue, If it be evil count thine eyes but, liars. Tlie things we see are symbols void of sense Until the soul interprets. Read me then By the quick-throbbing flame within thy soul. GuAS. I'll read thee by the splendour of thine eyes, Which are deep wells of light, fed from the springs Of thy divinest spirit. Bea. Well, let us talk Of the great world that lies beyond this garden. Guas. Is it to thee a world unknown ? Bea. I know it But in the dim pictures of the magic glass, Wherein I have seen sad things, conned tragic tales In act before mine eyes. Guas. What hast thou seen ? Bea. The world, methinks, is but a poison-garden Far worse than ours ; for here my father's art From venomous roots distils balsamic dews Which have the power of healing. There it seems The sweetest joys are seed of deadliest bale. Guas. Sad wisdom, learnt too early ! Bea. Is it wisdon*? I never talked before with anyone Out of that world. My father, like a stranger. Visits the ways of men, feared and not loved. Stern and strange even to me, who love, not fear, him. Guas. O what a lonely life thou hast led here ! Bea. Yes, very lonely, now I feel how lonely. Guas. Would that my poor desert might crave a glimpse Of the rare treasures of thy maiden thought. Locked in the unopened casket of thy mind I Bea. View them but as the treasures of a child. I'll tell thee first how first upon my spirit Fell the great shadow of the wings of death, There to abide. It was an April morning, And I, a tiny child, had run alone Into the bosco which o'erglooms the garden. Where, in the shade of the dark ilex-trees Pale cyclamens, like tender flames of spring. Pierced through the rotting leaves. Guas. I did not dream That in these precincts grew such harmless flowers. Bea. (Sighing) They grew there once, but now they grow no more. Guas. A theme of sorrow. Well ? Bea._ Night's hoary dews Lay thick on the young grass and fallen leaves, Drenching my feet, which stirred at every step Fresh vernal scents,; and all the bliss of spring Ached in my dancing blood. Guas. Sweet Beatrice ! Thy words are odours breathed from childhood's fields, In the rich balm of thy perfumed breath. 15 Be A. {Aside) O, he can drink the poison of my breath And take no hurt ! (Aloud.) I filled my baby hands With cyclamens, and down yon marble stair Danced in pure ecstasy, down into the sunshine, And past me as I came dashed a sweet pair Of Love's brown birds, the wooer and the wooed, Winged with the joy of life into this garden. GuAS. And then Bea. They wooed no more. I saw them flash Into the bower of such a parasite As thou see'st there, that gaudy vampyre thing Whose cUnging sucks its victim's life away. Then » GuAs. What befell ? Bea. They 'dropped like arrows spent And on the walk lay dead. And a great awe Fell on me, though I thought they did but sleep ; For I knew sleep, while death I did not know. GuAS. Poor child ! Bea. My treasured bunch of cyclamens From my hot hand fell withering on the walk, And their two tiny bodies, warm as life Still, with their passionate blood, I tenderly Took up, and soothed their helpless wings, and laid Softly each drooping head, and sped within To show them to my nurse. Guas. And she ? Bea. She told me The tale we all must hear and wonder at. Guas. That we are as the birds ? * Bea. I questioned her If death were in the world as in our garden. She told me how I was her fosterling, And her own son, the babe she had forsook To nourish me, had died. And I know now I was his parasite. Guas. l^ay, think not of it With self-accusing. Bea. 'Tls the commonplace Of nature, we are all but parasites, We live upon each other, and the strong Eat up the weak. Guas. Too long thou hast dwelt alone, Companioned by dark spectres of the mind. Bea. I have seen life within the magic glass, The prey of madness, and disease and death. Guas. What fascination drew thee thus to pore Upon the wounds of life ? Bea. It is the hope By which I live that I was born to bring Some ease to the sick world ; for all the sorrows That haunt the house of tears ache in me still, Like the seven swords piercing Our Lady's breast. Guas. Even such a moment's passion I have known, l6 But like a coward shrank from the great cross Whereon the world is crucified. I thought Joy is man's rightful heritage, and I The prince of that lost kingdom— give me joy ! Bea. How may we win the world that heritage ? GuAS. O I know now, love is the only joy In earth or heaven. Thou, Beatrice, thou Art my lost kingdom's queen, and winning thee I win my heritage. Crown me. Madonna ! Here, as thy knight, I kneel and kiss thy hand. (He kneels and tries to take her hand. She recoils.) Bea. Nay, touch me not. Alas ! what shall I say ? There lies invisible betwixt us two A gulf as deep as death. GuAS. O let me cross it Borne on love's wings. Bea. It may not be — not yet. As well the torrid and the frozen zone May meet in one, as thou and I. Not yet- Perhaps GuAS. I'll dare more than Leander did For Hero. Bea. That was pastime for a boy To the strange peril thou must face for me. GuAS. For thee, for thee ! this challenge of my love So sweetly, gravely given, wakes a wild hope That thou would'st fain be won. O Beatrice, I grow too bold ! Pardon the audacious dream Thou hast inspired. Bea. Our voices rang so clear Across the gulf, misted with morning dreams, I had almost forgotten that my love Were scathing fire to thee. Yet hope, and dare. GuAS. I am a moth whose passion for a star Pants in the sightless frenzy of its wings For mere annihilation. Bea. O my beloved ! Would I might give {She suddenly presses her hand to her heart.) GuAS. What sudden pang assails thee ? Bea. The garden claims me. O my sister flower. When till this day ever did I forget thee ? And now I had forgot. {She approaches the fountain, Guasconti rushes forward.) Guas. The flower, the magic flower ! Grant me but one. One splendid bloom, my lilies are o'erpaid. {He attempts to pluck a flower.) Bea. Back, for thy life ! {She seizes his hand, he recoils 'icith a cry.) Guas. Ah ! my hand burns ! Bea. No more? I have not slain thee ! O thou art pure in heart. ,17 GuAs. _ The searching fire shoots through me, vem by vein. 'Tis agony and yet I do not die. ^ Bea. It is the cleansing alchemy of love. The sun within thee burns in his own fires, And I, the o'erwintered earth, await his beams. GuAS. I will endure and wait the destined hour. Bea. I have waited long to hear the bridegroomlB voice ; Now there come whisperings, as of vernal winds, In budding trees. My father bade me hve As one predestined to a glorious task, The healing in the world of love's deep wound. Guas. We must go forth, the bridegroom and the bride. To win earth's kingdoms. • Bea. Can'st thou read my thoughts ? Vet, yet — we must part now. Dear love, farewell ! If thou can'st trust me still, meet me to-morrow. Come when the sinking sun leaves the young moon Pale on his glowiijg throne. Guas. My faith in thee Stands firm as Atlas ; not a single star Shall fall from our love's heaven. Drive quickly, moon, Bring with thy dragon steeds our meeting hour. j (As he passes into the corridor, Rappacini appears at the door (r). Beatrice slowly follows Guasconti, kissing her hand to him.) Bea. Farewell ! Guas. Farewell ! {Exit Guasconti (l). Rappacini, advancing, looks after him.) Rappa. The powers have made their choice: he does not die. They shall go forth to purge the festering world. Saving and slaying, death to evil things. And healing to the chosen ones of God. Drop Scene falls for two minutes. End of Scene 2. Scene 3. — Rappacini's garden. Sunset. Enter into the'corridur Guasconti, a bunch of lilies in his hand. Guas. I voyage still between two worlds of dream, Myself.a dream ! In Padua streets to-day Men were as ghosts to me ; and they, methought, Looked on me with scared eyes, as on a ghost. It is almost the hour. Enter Ruffini. RuFi'. Giovanni ! B i8 GuAS. Ha! Celio ! how com'st thou here ? Ruff. Why, like thyself, By the secret stair. GuAS. Hence, on thy peril ! Ruff. _ No; I come to save thee, and by heaven I will, Jfepite of that hoary devil, Rappacini, And his witch daughter. GuAS. Thou blasphem'sf a saint. Ruff. A saint ? O madman in an opium dream Besotted by the drug that poisons thee ! GuAS. Never so rich in health as I am now. Ruff. So say they all. It is the gravest mark Of thy disease. Hast ever heard the tale Of the fair woman whom an Indian prince Sent as a gift to conquering Alexander ? GuAS. Spare me the tale, for it concerns me not. Ruff. Nay, listen ! She was fair as dawn, She was arrayed like sunset ; and her breath Sweeter than spiced Arabian winds. GuAS. Her breath ? Ruff. Intoxicating perfume, richer, mark me, Than Persian roses breathe in Culistan. GuAS. Intoxicating perfume ? Ruff. Rarest jars By orient craft wrought from earth's finest clay, To hold the absolute essence of the rose. Shame not the pottery of a peasant's wheel As she the journey-work of Nature's hand. GuAS. Thou art no Hafiz, Celio, and her charms Grow fulsome on thy tongue. A loftier strain ; O she would tempt an amorous conqueror To lose the world for her, and think it — pshaw ! Come to the moral but — but this rare creature Was — what ? Ruff. As dangerous as the poisoned rose Sent by a Borgia to some honoured friend. GuAS. Yet Alexander died not. Ruff. Alexander Had a most sage physician in his train, And took his timely warning, shunned the witch As death's twin sister ; else she had dumbed indeed Earth's thunders round the car of Macedon, Sooner than wine and fever. GuAS. By what sign Did this physician mark her down a witch ? Ruff. E'en by her breath. GuAS. Her breath ? Ruff. She had been fed On poisons from her birth, until to her Poison was elemental in her blood. Her kisses death. She was a poison-flower. GuAs. This is more fable. Ruff. Fable ? So thought I 19 Until I saw (Rappacini crosses the garden.) Look there ! GuAs.. -Tis Rappacini. Ruff. This garden is a purlieu of that cell I told thee of; here, as on some poor dog, Some captive thing that whines and licks the hand That dooms him death, he practises on thee Some damned experiment. GuAS. Oil me ? (Exit Rappacini (l) Ruff. Ay, thee. Thou did'st not note, but I did, how his gaze Was bent on thee as thou did'st walk to-day Across the market-place, with such a look As he might fix upon a mouse whose blood Held poison from his limbecs. GuAS. Idle dreams ! Ruff. His eyes were scalpels, cutting to the soul, And on his thin lips gleamed a passing smile Of inward triumph. GuAs. 'Tis thy fantasy. Ruff. My conquering Alexander, trust me, no. This garden is thy India, and in me Hear thy physician. O my dear Giovanni, I am here at deadly peril to myself For love of thee ! This Rappacini's daughter Is such a poison-flower, as beautiful And deadly aS that witch of classic tale. GuAS. {Turning. angrily) 'Tis false ! I am not poisoned by her breath. Ruff. (Recoiling) Far worse. Changed by its hellish alchymy, That subtle perfume which so drugs the air I faint in a voluptuous lethargy — It is.not from the garden. 'Tis thy breath. Thy poisonous bEeath. GuAs. (Horrified) My poisonous breath ? O God ! It is not true. Ruff. Here, put it to the proof. See this foul spider, sitting in her maze ; Breathe on her; (Guasconti breathes on the spider.) See, she fiercely agita'tes The web and grows invisible. Again ! (He breathes again.) She drops suddenly dead. Art thou still doubtful ? GuAS. (Laughing hysterically) Ha ! ha ! Can I kill thus ? I'll rage like death On all mankind. Ruff. (Avoiding him) O this is terrible ! (Guasconti looks at the flowers in his hand.) GuAs. These flowers ? Dead ! dead ! — all .blasted by my touch ! (He flings them away into the garden.) There, let her take this. bridal gift from me. Ruff. Listen, Giovanni ; does this Beatrice Return thy love ? Guas. I did believe so. Fool 1 Yet, yet — O innocence dwells in her face, Lilie the sweet sky in crystal water, Celio ! Ruff. Well, grant her innocent ; but her vile father Plots for thy ruin. He would hold thee here An alien from the world, to be her mate. GuAs. (Aside) Is this the gulf, O God, is this the gulf That I would overpass ? Ruff. But if she love thee Thou may'st redeem her to the wholesome world. GuAS. How ? how ? Ruff. BagUoni sends thee by my hand This antidote, so potent it can quell All Rappacini's poisons, like the snakes Swallowed by Aaron's rod. (Beatrice appears itt the garden.) Bea. Giovanni ! Ruff. Hark ! Guas. It is her voice ; the garden's ancient spell. Which fascinates and kills, rich in its flute. Ruff. {Gives the phial) This delicate piece of goldsmith's artistry Is but the precious rind which holds immured A juice more precious. Take it, drink with her. Or, if she drink not, slay her with thj^ sword. Bea. Giovanni ! Come, the hour is overpast, My love, I wait for thee. Gdas. I'll go to her With eyes unsealed, thanks Celio, eyes unsealed. And prove her love by this, thy talisman. Ruff. Go, in God's name. I dare no longer bide. (Exit RuFFiNi. GuASCONTi enters the garden.) Bea. Giovanni ! O 'tis thou ? Late, late, my love ! How I have waited for this holy hour. Guas. Well, it has come. • (They pace in silence, side by side.) Bea. (Shivering) How cold the sunset falls ! Guas. Yes ; it is cold. Bea. My heart is full of love, And yet I have no words. Guas. (Bitterly) What, not a word, Though for thy sake I have outswum Leander And passed the gulf ? Bea. The gulf ? Guas. (With fierce irony) Ay, my sweet bride, Let us make merry. Deck with flowers the charnel. Set forth our wedding banquet, let us quaff Healths to each other out of brimming skulls. Deep healths in wolfsbane and mandragora. (He inhales the odour of the flowers.) For see with what a craving appetite I pasture on thy poisons. Bea. Dear Giovanni,. Jest not so wildly, Guas. (Approaches the poison flower) Now my queen of flowers, The secret of the garden. I, demand My last initiation. What straiige sin Gave this bright horror birth ? Bea. No sin, but love. A human spirit, sister to my own, Lives in its life. It is my father's child Sprung from my mother's tomb. GuAS. " {Aside with horror) That tale is true ! A loud) O womb of earth ! I have seen battlefields Where men long sown revisited the sun As melancholy weeds : but in this garden There's magical husbandry. Thy father's child ? Bea. Reverence in her creation's mystery, Which he hath fathomed as no man before. GuAS. The sweat of awe is cold upon my body. Yet all my blood cries out in wild desire For but one flower. Bea. I know not if I dare. (Rappacini steps out from behind the fountain.) Rappa. Yes, Beatrice, hear the bridegroom's yoice ; Give him the flower, for he may wear it now. (Beatrice plucks a flower and places it in Ids . breast. He stands entranced^ The hour is come, the blood weds with the fire ! {He extends his arms over them, as in blessing, then exit into the house.) GuAS. {Recovering) Ashtaroth ! Ashtaroth ! Bea. What means that cry ? GuAs. What part had I in these unhallowed rites ? Her blood is in my veins, leavens my blood With poisonous fire. I am accurst, accurst ! Bea. Giovanni ! Speak to me, one word to me ! GuAs. Dost thou not see me hang on the world's cross, Cast out, accurst, alone ? Bea,' Nay, I am with thee. GuAs. Mock then : I am the scapegoat of tlie world, ,Yet work no man's redemption through my pangs, Like the poor thief, who went the devil's way. Who gave him pity ? Bea. Would I might understand. I knew there dwelt a doom within the flower : But deemed that love GuAS. {Laughing) Thou can'st not understand ! There yawns the gulf again, as deep as hell. Bea. There is no gulf love cannot overpass. Kiss me, Giovanni. We are niade one through love. GuAs. Kiss thee ! O thou she-Judas ! Can thy kiss Sunder me more from the fair world of men. Than all this poisonous change thy arts have wrought ? Bea. Giovanni ! {She weeps.) GuAS. Wilt thou weep ? Have sirens tears ? Can those who trade in shipwreck pity the drowned ? Bea. O Virgin Mother, look on me, thy child ; All thy seven ^deadly swords are in my heart ! GuAs. Ha! canst thou pray ? Thou witch whose ver}' prayers Infect the winds with poison ! Ay, let us pray, Let us to church and dip our tainted hands In holy water, set our deadly lips To sacred chalices, our orisons Like muttered spells infect the blessed bread. That heavenly offices work fiery death I Bea. O God ! O God ! GuAS. Well said ! Blaspheme hi", name. Sign crosses in the air, let our foul plague Light in redemption's symbol on men's heads, Smite Padua like a curse, heap every street With festering corpses ! Bea. ' O what have I done That thou appall'st me with such words of hate ? GuAS. What hast thou done ? Made mc even as thou art, A thing more deadly than the cockatrice. Bea. But not to thee — I am not this to thee ! And yet some sudden horror frights tljy love Into abhorring. Thou hast stabbed my heart More cruelly than with swords. O leave me now. To die with my dead hopes — Go thou thy way. GuAS. I leave thee ! I ! Art thou so innocent ? Behold ! These gnats that spring and sink again, A cloud of rythmic life over the fountain. Be as a city of men within those walls. We two walk like the pestilence. Behold ! He breathes upon the gnats.) Bea. Slain by thy breath ! O doomsday shoots a glare Of light into my soul ! My father's art ! GuAs. Ay, his black magic it hath made us two The things we are ; outcast beyond the ban Of leper's cells. Bea. I knew not what I did. Alas ! I was so lonely in this garden ! GuAS. So thou did'st lure me here, as flies by flowers Are caught with poisonous honey. Well, thou art Alone no longer. Bea. Never so alone ! My poor Giovanni, I begin to fear Thy heart holds deadlier poison than the garden Ever brought forth. Guas. My heart ? Bea. • The black mistrust That is love's bane. Woe's me ! With what pure faith I trusted in thy faith. I dreamed thylove Would clasp me all the closer, though the flames . Of hell should roar and rage against that faith. Guas. Am I a god to bear such things and blench not ? Bea. I knew men were not gods, yet saw the god In just the one man out of all the world, Thee, -thee, mine own ! Now thou hast killed my heatl, Kill then- this wretched body. Give thy hate Pull wing to swoop in any fierce revenge It craves to assuage it. Only let my bWod Break this foul spell. It can, arid set thefe free. Go back into the world, dwell with thy kind. And keep no soil of my forgotten love. GuAS. (Kneeling) If in this fiery trial of my faith I have reproached thee for thy father's sin, Forgive me, Beatrice, for my love Assoils thee of that sin. Bea. Too late, too late ! Alas ! forgiveness is a bitter sweet. Bruise but a butterfly's soft feathery wings, It pines an alien in the sunny a.ir ; Never glad flight again. So pines my soul. Yet it is sweet, Giovanni, from thy loye. Not from thy hate, I may demand my death. GuAS. Death, death ! Thy words are mad. Tliou wouldst transcend The faltering virtue of our mortal nature. I love thee still. Bea. As men love captive things. I must be free. GuAS. O yet there is a way To life, love, happiness. I had nigh forgot This phial. Here I hold a precious juice. Sent me by old Baglioni, which can make Thy' father's poisons tame. Bea. Doubt my own father ? That's little now. (Smiling.) Baglioni's antidote ? I dreamed, fond I, love was the antidote For the most virulent poison of the world. Must I drink this, Giovanni ? GuAS. For my sake, In earnest of thy love. O we will drink Together, thou and I, and go forth healed Into the world ! / Bea. To love, then, and thy health 1 (Music to the end of the scene. ' Beatrice dyinks and. hands Guasconti the phial.) GuA§. And this to thee, to thee 1 (He drinks. Bea. a ve atque vale ! GuAS. No funeral words. Await our happy change. Bea. It comes, Giovanni. Here, here, in thine arms, One moment close to thee, let me dream out ' The foolish happy dream. Yes, thou and I Have stretched our longing arms across the gulf. And touched, touched once. Ah ! could love do more ? I fearl have wronged a noble heart in thine. No time to weep all well ! (She frees herself and stands a moment her liand pressed to her heart.) GuAS. What ails thee ? Bea. Death . 24 J So poison iasts out poison. {She rcch suddenly and falls.) GuAs. What have I done ? Beai Made thy face but a memory : for mine 'eyes See only night, and lose thee evermore. Tliy hand, reach me thy hand. GuAS. (Kneeling beside her and taking her hand) My love ! My love ! Bea. O I am swept away from thee, away Into the vast. , GuAS. Fool ! fool ! Mock me, ye fiends. Beatrice ! Bea. O farewell ! We two may meet — Perchance — long ages hence — {Site dies.) GuAS. Wilt thou escape me ? Through life's dark postern slip into the void ? See, I plunge after, and will follow thee, -lions on ^ons, till my flaming feet Be.ar nie to thy pure presence. Speed me, God ! .Sweet, let me sip from thy untasted lips Death's drowsy wine. (He kiss€s hei\) Lend me thy breast, my love. To pillow my last sleep. I come, I come ! The moth dies in the star. (He dies. Kappacini appears behind in the ga rdcn .) Kappa. The wedding banquet waits. Come in, my children. Curtain. Printed on handmatU paper at the CMswick Press, in an edition of 250 copies, imperial i6nio, and 50 copies /cap. ^to, large paper. A SICILIAN IDYLL %. faatnral flag By JOHN TODHUNTER With a Frontispiece by Walter Crane Price 5s. net in Small Paper. ,, los. 6d. net in Large Paper. LONDON ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET, W. 1891 __ Cornell University Library PR 5671.T245P7 The poison-flower; a phantasy in three sc 3 1924 013 564 335