The Poems and Prose Remains of Arthur Hugh Clough/Volume 2/Fragments of the Mystery of the Fall
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POEMS ON RELIGIOUS AND
BIBLICAL SUBJECTS.
Adam. Since that last evening we have fallen indeed!
Yes, we have fallen, my Eve! O yes!—
One, two, and three, and four;—the Appetite,
The Enjoyment, the aftervoid, the thinking of it—
Specially the latter two, most specially the last.
There, in synopsis, see, you have it all:
Come, let us go and work!
Is it not enough?
What, is there three, four, five?
Eve.Oh, guilt, guilt, guilt!
Adam. Be comforted; muddle not your soul with doubt.
'Tis done, it was to be done; if, indeed,
Other way than this there was, I cannot say:
This was one way, and a way was needs to be found.
That which we were we could no more remain
Than in the moist provocative vernal mould
A seed its stickers close and rest a seed;
We were to grow. Necessity on us lay
This way or that to move; necessity, too,
Not to be over careful this or that,
So only move we should.
Come, my wife,
We were to grow, and grow I think we may,
And yet bear goodly fruit.
Eve.Oh, guilt! oh, guilt!
Adam. You weary me with your 'Oh, guilt! oh, guilt!'
Peace to the senseless iteration. What!
Because I plucked an apple from a twig
Be damned to death eterne! parted from Good,
Enchained to Ill! No, by the God of gods;
No, by the living will within my breast,
It cannot be, and shall not; and if this,
This guilt of your distracted fantasy,
Be our experiment's sum, thank God for guilt,
Which makes me free!
But thou, poor wife! poor mother, shall I say?
Big with the first maternity of man,
Draw'st from thy teeming womb thick fancies fond,
That with confusion mix thy delicate brain;
Fondest of which and cloudiest call the dream
(Yea, my beloved, hear me, it is a dream)
Of the serpent, and the apple, and the curse:
Fondest of dreams and cloudiest of clouds.
Well I remember, in our marriage bower,
How in the dewiest balminess of rest,
Inarmèd as we lay, sudden at once
Up from my side you started, screaming 'Guilt!'
And 'Lost! lost! lost!' I on my elbow rose,
And rubbed unwilling eyes, and cried, 'Eve! Eve!
My love! my wife!' and knit anew the embrace,
And drew thee to me close, and calmed thy fear,
And wooed thee back to sleep. In vain; for soon
I felt thee gone, and opening widest eyes,
Beheld thee kneeling on the turf, hands now
Clenched and uplifted high, now vainly outspread
To hide a burning face and streaming eyes
And pale small lips that muttered faintly, 'Death.'
And thou would'st fain depart; thou said'st the place
Was for the like of us too good: we left
The pleasant woodland shades, and passed abroad
Into this naked champaign—glorious soil
For digging and for delving, but indeed,
Until I killed a beast or two, and spread
Skins upon sticks to make our palace here,
A residence sadly exposed to wind and rain.
But I in all submit to you; and then
I turned out too, and trudged a furlong's space,
Till you fell tired and fain would wait for morn.
So as our nightly journey we began,
Because the autumnal fruitage that had fallen
From trees whereunder we had slept, lay thick,
And we had eaten overnight, and seen,
And saw again by starlight when you woke me,
A sly and harmless snake glide by our couch;
And because, some few hours before, a lamb
Fell from a rock and broke its neck, and I
Had answered, to your wonder, that 'twas dead,
Forsooth the molten lava of your flight
Forth from your brain, its crater, hurrying down,
Took the chance mould; the vapour blowing by
Caught and reflected back some random shapes.
A vague and queasy dream was obstinate
In waking thoughts to find itself renewed,
And lo! the mighty Mythus of the Fall!
Nay, smile with me, sweet mother!
Eve.Guilt! oh, guilt!
Adam. Peace, woman, peace; I go.
Eve.Nay, Adam, nay;
Hear me, I am not dreaming, am not crazed.
Did not yourself confess that we are changed?
Do not you too?
Adam.Do not I too? Well, well,
Listen! I too when homeward, weary of toil,
Through the dark night I have wandered in rain and wind,
Bewildered, haply scared, I too have lost heart,
And deemed all space with angry power replete,
Angry, almighty-and panic-stricken have cried,
'What have I done?' 'What wilt thou do to me?'
Or with the coward's 'No, I did not, I will not,'
Belied my own soul's self. I too have heard,
And listened, too, to a voice that in my ear
Hissed the temptation to curse God, or worse,
And yet more frequent, curse myself and die;
Until, in fine, I have begun to half believe
Your dream my dream too, and the dream of both
No dream but dread reality; have shared
Your fright: e'en so share thou, sweet life, my hope;
I too, again, when weeds with growth perverse
Have choked my corn and marred a season's toil,
Have deemed I heard in heaven abroad a cry,
'Cursed is the ground for thy sake; thou art cursed.'
But oftener far, and stronger also far,
In consonance with all things out and in,
I hear a voice more searching bid me, 'On!
On! on! it is the folly of the child
To choose his path and straightway think it wrong,
And turn right back and lie on the ground to weep.
Forward! go, conquer! work and live!' Withal
A word comes, half command, half prophecy,
'Forgetting things behind thee, onward press
Unto the mark of your high calling.' Yea,
And voices, too, in woods and flowery fields
Speak confidence from budding banks and boughs,
And tell me, 'Live and grow,' and say, 'Look still
Upward, spread outward, trust, be patient, live;'
Therefore, if weakness bid me curse and die,
I answer, No! I will not curse myself,
Nor aught beside; I shall not die, but live.
Eve.Ah, me! alas! alas!
More dismally in my face stares the doubt,
More heavily on my heart weighs the world.
Methinks
The questionings of ages yet to be,
The thinkings and cross-thinkings, self-contempts,
Self-horror; all despondencies, despairs
Of multitudinous souls on souls to come,
In me imprisoned fight, complain and cry.
Alas!
Mystery, mystery, mystery evermore.
Yes, we have fallen, my Eve! O yes!—
One, two, and three, and four;—the Appetite,
The Enjoyment, the aftervoid, the thinking of it—
Specially the latter two, most specially the last.
There, in synopsis, see, you have it all:
Come, let us go and work!
Is it not enough?
What, is there three, four, five?
Eve.Oh, guilt, guilt, guilt!
Adam. Be comforted; muddle not your soul with doubt.
'Tis done, it was to be done; if, indeed,
Other way than this there was, I cannot say:
This was one way, and a way was needs to be found.
That which we were we could no more remain
Than in the moist provocative vernal mould
A seed its stickers close and rest a seed;
We were to grow. Necessity on us lay
This way or that to move; necessity, too,
Not to be over careful this or that,
So only move we should.
Come, my wife,
We were to grow, and grow I think we may,
And yet bear goodly fruit.
Eve.Oh, guilt! oh, guilt!
Adam. You weary me with your 'Oh, guilt! oh, guilt!'
Peace to the senseless iteration. What!
Because I plucked an apple from a twig
Be damned to death eterne! parted from Good,
Enchained to Ill! No, by the God of gods;
No, by the living will within my breast,
It cannot be, and shall not; and if this,
This guilt of your distracted fantasy,
Be our experiment's sum, thank God for guilt,
Which makes me free!
But thou, poor wife! poor mother, shall I say?
Big with the first maternity of man,
Draw'st from thy teeming womb thick fancies fond,
That with confusion mix thy delicate brain;
Fondest of which and cloudiest call the dream
(Yea, my beloved, hear me, it is a dream)
Of the serpent, and the apple, and the curse:
Fondest of dreams and cloudiest of clouds.
Well I remember, in our marriage bower,
How in the dewiest balminess of rest,
Inarmèd as we lay, sudden at once
Up from my side you started, screaming 'Guilt!'
And 'Lost! lost! lost!' I on my elbow rose,
And rubbed unwilling eyes, and cried, 'Eve! Eve!
My love! my wife!' and knit anew the embrace,
And drew thee to me close, and calmed thy fear,
And wooed thee back to sleep. In vain; for soon
I felt thee gone, and opening widest eyes,
Beheld thee kneeling on the turf, hands now
Clenched and uplifted high, now vainly outspread
To hide a burning face and streaming eyes
And pale small lips that muttered faintly, 'Death.'
And thou would'st fain depart; thou said'st the place
Was for the like of us too good: we left
The pleasant woodland shades, and passed abroad
Into this naked champaign—glorious soil
For digging and for delving, but indeed,
Until I killed a beast or two, and spread
Skins upon sticks to make our palace here,
A residence sadly exposed to wind and rain.
But I in all submit to you; and then
I turned out too, and trudged a furlong's space,
Till you fell tired and fain would wait for morn.
So as our nightly journey we began,
Because the autumnal fruitage that had fallen
From trees whereunder we had slept, lay thick,
And we had eaten overnight, and seen,
And saw again by starlight when you woke me,
A sly and harmless snake glide by our couch;
And because, some few hours before, a lamb
Fell from a rock and broke its neck, and I
Had answered, to your wonder, that 'twas dead,
Forsooth the molten lava of your flight
Forth from your brain, its crater, hurrying down,
Took the chance mould; the vapour blowing by
Caught and reflected back some random shapes.
A vague and queasy dream was obstinate
In waking thoughts to find itself renewed,
And lo! the mighty Mythus of the Fall!
Nay, smile with me, sweet mother!
Eve.Guilt! oh, guilt!
Adam. Peace, woman, peace; I go.
Eve.Nay, Adam, nay;
Hear me, I am not dreaming, am not crazed.
Did not yourself confess that we are changed?
Do not you too?
Adam.Do not I too? Well, well,
Listen! I too when homeward, weary of toil,
Through the dark night I have wandered in rain and wind,
Bewildered, haply scared, I too have lost heart,
And deemed all space with angry power replete,
Angry, almighty-and panic-stricken have cried,
'What have I done?' 'What wilt thou do to me?'
Or with the coward's 'No, I did not, I will not,'
Belied my own soul's self. I too have heard,
And listened, too, to a voice that in my ear
Hissed the temptation to curse God, or worse,
And yet more frequent, curse myself and die;
Until, in fine, I have begun to half believe
Your dream my dream too, and the dream of both
No dream but dread reality; have shared
Your fright: e'en so share thou, sweet life, my hope;
I too, again, when weeds with growth perverse
Have choked my corn and marred a season's toil,
Have deemed I heard in heaven abroad a cry,
'Cursed is the ground for thy sake; thou art cursed.'
But oftener far, and stronger also far,
In consonance with all things out and in,
I hear a voice more searching bid me, 'On!
On! on! it is the folly of the child
To choose his path and straightway think it wrong,
And turn right back and lie on the ground to weep.
Forward! go, conquer! work and live!' Withal
A word comes, half command, half prophecy,
'Forgetting things behind thee, onward press
Unto the mark of your high calling.' Yea,
And voices, too, in woods and flowery fields
Speak confidence from budding banks and boughs,
And tell me, 'Live and grow,' and say, 'Look still
Upward, spread outward, trust, be patient, live;'
Therefore, if weakness bid me curse and die,
I answer, No! I will not curse myself,
Nor aught beside; I shall not die, but live.
Eve.Ah, me! alas! alas!
More dismally in my face stares the doubt,
More heavily on my heart weighs the world.
Methinks
The questionings of ages yet to be,
The thinkings and cross-thinkings, self-contempts,
Self-horror; all despondencies, despairs
Of multitudinous souls on souls to come,
In me imprisoned fight, complain and cry.
Alas!
Mystery, mystery, mystery evermore.
Scene II.
Adam, alone.
Adam. Misery, oh my misery! O God, God!
How could I ever, ever, could I do it?
Whither am I come? where am I? O me, miserable!
My God, my God, that I were back with Thee!
O fool! O fool! O irretrievable act!
Irretrievable what, I should like to know?
What act, I wonder? What is it I mean?
O heaven! the spirit holds me; I must yield;
Up in the air he lifts me, casts me down;
I writhe in vain, with limbs convulsed, in the void.
Well, well! go idle words, babble your will;
I think the fit will leave me ere I die.
Fool, fool! where am I? O my God! Fool, fool!
Why did we do 't? Eve, Eve! where are you? quick!
His tread is in the garden! hither it comes!
Hide us, O bushes! and ye thick trees, hide
He comes, on, on. Alack, and all these leaves,
These petty, quivering and illusive blinds,
Avail us nought: the light comes in and in;
Displays us to ourselves; displays—ah, shame—
Unto the inquisitive day our nakedness.
He comes; He calls. The large eye of His truth,
His full, severe, all-comprehending view,
Fixes itself upon our guiltiness.
O God, O God! what are we? what shall we be?
What is all this about, I wonder now?
Yet I am better, too. I think it will pass.
'Tis going now, unless it comes again.
A terrible possession while it lasts.
Terrible, surely; and yet indeed 'tis true.
E'en in my utmost impotence I find
A fount of strange persistence in my soul;
Also, and that perchance is stronger still,
A wakeful, changeless touchstone in my brain,
Receiving, noting, testing all the while
These passing, curious, new phenomena—
Painful, and yet not painful unto it.
Though tortured in the crucible I lie,
Myself my own experiment, yet still
I, or a something that is I indeed,
A living, central, and more inmost I,
Within the scales of mere exterior me's,
I,—seem eternal, O thou God, as Thou;
Have knowledge of the evil and the good,
Superior in a higher good to both.
Well, well, well! it has gone from me, though still
Its images remain upon me whole;
And undisplaced upon my mind I view
The reflex of the total seizure past.
Really now, had I only time and space,
And were not troubled with this wife of mine,
And the necessity of meat and drink—
I really do believe,
With time and space and proper quietude,
I could resolve the problem in my brain.
But, no; I scarce can stay one moment more
To watch the curious seething process out.
If I could only dare to let Eve see
These operations, it is like enough
Between us two we two could make it out.
But she would be so frightened—think it proof
Of all her own imaginings. 'Twill not do;
So as it is
I must e'en put a cheery face on it,
Suppress the whole, rub off the unfinished thoughts,
For fear she read them. O, 'tis pity indeed,
But confidence is the one and main thing now:
Who loses confidence, he loses all.
A demi-grain of cowardice in me
Avowed, were poison to the whole mankind;
When men are plentier, 'twill be time to try;
At present, no.
No;
Shake it all up and go.
That is the word, and that must be obeyed.
I must be off. But yet again some day
Again will I resume it; if not I,
I in some child of late posterity.
Yes, yes, I feel it; it is here the seed,
Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/64 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/65 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/66 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/67 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/68 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/69 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/70 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/71 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/72 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/73 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/74 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/75 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/76 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/77 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/78 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/79 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/80 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/81 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/82 She spoke, nor, speaking, ceased I listening; but
I was alone, yet not alone, with her
And she with me, and you with us, my sons,
As at the first;—and yet not wholly—yea,
And that which I had witnessed thus in you,
This fusion, and mutation, and return,
Seemed in my substance working too. I slept,
I did not dream, my sleep was sweet to me.
Yes, in despite of all disquietudes,
For Eve, for you, for Abel, which indeed
Impelled in me that gaiety of soul—
Without your fears I had listened to my own—
In spite of doubt, despondency, and death,
Though lacking knowledge alway, lacking faith
Sometimes, and hope; with no sure trust in ought
Except a kind of impetus within,
Whose sole credentials were that trust itself;
Yet, in despite of much, in lack of more,
Life has been beautiful to me, my son,
And I, if I am called, will come again.
As he hath lived he dies.—My comforter,
Whom I believed not, only trusted in,
What had I been without thee? how survived?
Would I were with thee whereso'er thou art!
Would I might follow thee still!
But sleep is sweet, and I would sleep, my son.
Oh Cain! behold your father's words are said!
How could I ever, ever, could I do it?
Whither am I come? where am I? O me, miserable!
My God, my God, that I were back with Thee!
O fool! O fool! O irretrievable act!
Irretrievable what, I should like to know?
What act, I wonder? What is it I mean?
O heaven! the spirit holds me; I must yield;
Up in the air he lifts me, casts me down;
I writhe in vain, with limbs convulsed, in the void.
Well, well! go idle words, babble your will;
I think the fit will leave me ere I die.
Fool, fool! where am I? O my God! Fool, fool!
Why did we do 't? Eve, Eve! where are you? quick!
His tread is in the garden! hither it comes!
Hide us, O bushes! and ye thick trees, hide
He comes, on, on. Alack, and all these leaves,
These petty, quivering and illusive blinds,
Avail us nought: the light comes in and in;
Displays us to ourselves; displays—ah, shame—
Unto the inquisitive day our nakedness.
He comes; He calls. The large eye of His truth,
His full, severe, all-comprehending view,
Fixes itself upon our guiltiness.
O God, O God! what are we? what shall we be?
What is all this about, I wonder now?
Yet I am better, too. I think it will pass.
'Tis going now, unless it comes again.
A terrible possession while it lasts.
Terrible, surely; and yet indeed 'tis true.
E'en in my utmost impotence I find
A fount of strange persistence in my soul;
Also, and that perchance is stronger still,
A wakeful, changeless touchstone in my brain,
Receiving, noting, testing all the while
These passing, curious, new phenomena—
Painful, and yet not painful unto it.
Though tortured in the crucible I lie,
Myself my own experiment, yet still
I, or a something that is I indeed,
A living, central, and more inmost I,
Within the scales of mere exterior me's,
I,—seem eternal, O thou God, as Thou;
Have knowledge of the evil and the good,
Superior in a higher good to both.
Well, well, well! it has gone from me, though still
Its images remain upon me whole;
And undisplaced upon my mind I view
The reflex of the total seizure past.
Really now, had I only time and space,
And were not troubled with this wife of mine,
And the necessity of meat and drink—
I really do believe,
With time and space and proper quietude,
I could resolve the problem in my brain.
But, no; I scarce can stay one moment more
To watch the curious seething process out.
If I could only dare to let Eve see
These operations, it is like enough
Between us two we two could make it out.
But she would be so frightened—think it proof
Of all her own imaginings. 'Twill not do;
So as it is
I must e'en put a cheery face on it,
Suppress the whole, rub off the unfinished thoughts,
For fear she read them. O, 'tis pity indeed,
But confidence is the one and main thing now:
Who loses confidence, he loses all.
A demi-grain of cowardice in me
Avowed, were poison to the whole mankind;
When men are plentier, 'twill be time to try;
At present, no.
No;
Shake it all up and go.
That is the word, and that must be obeyed.
I must be off. But yet again some day
Again will I resume it; if not I,
I in some child of late posterity.
Yes, yes, I feel it; it is here the seed,
Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/64 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/65 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/66 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/67 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/68 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/69 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/70 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/71 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/72 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/73 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/74 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/75 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/76 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/77 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/78 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/79 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/80 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/81 Page:The Poems and Prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough, volume 2 (1869).djvu/82 She spoke, nor, speaking, ceased I listening; but
I was alone, yet not alone, with her
And she with me, and you with us, my sons,
As at the first;—and yet not wholly—yea,
And that which I had witnessed thus in you,
This fusion, and mutation, and return,
Seemed in my substance working too. I slept,
I did not dream, my sleep was sweet to me.
Yes, in despite of all disquietudes,
For Eve, for you, for Abel, which indeed
Impelled in me that gaiety of soul—
Without your fears I had listened to my own—
In spite of doubt, despondency, and death,
Though lacking knowledge alway, lacking faith
Sometimes, and hope; with no sure trust in ought
Except a kind of impetus within,
Whose sole credentials were that trust itself;
Yet, in despite of much, in lack of more,
Life has been beautiful to me, my son,
And I, if I am called, will come again.
As he hath lived he dies.—My comforter,
Whom I believed not, only trusted in,
What had I been without thee? how survived?
Would I were with thee whereso'er thou art!
Would I might follow thee still!
But sleep is sweet, and I would sleep, my son.
Oh Cain! behold your father's words are said!
- ↑ The MS. of this poem is very imperfect, and bears no title; but it is clear from its arrangement that the author intended it to take a dramatic form.