Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE HOUSE OF CANDLES, by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE HOUSE OF CANDLES, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: The house was dark
Last Line: And the breath of morning sweeps through the room.]


Scene: GRISEL STARK'S cottage. GRISEL STARK lies
unconscious on the bed. Two neighbours, BARBARA
WILSON and REBECCA WOOD, stand watching her, and
whispering together.

BARBARA. The house was dark;
And so I knew, at once,
That something was amiss.
REBECCA. The house was dark?
BARBARA. No blink of light
The window showed --
The window that had blazed, each night, for years.
I stood a moment, wondering, at my door;
And then I crossed the roadway,
And listened on the threshold,
Before I dared to knock;
Though what I feared
I could not tell.
It seemed so strange
To find the house in darkness --
No candles in the window,
And not a glimmer 'neath the door.
And when with quaking heart
At last I knocked
And no one answered me,
I raised the latch
And entered.
The room was dark and silent --
So silent that I felt
As though I'd stumbled suddenly
Into the house of death.
The fire was out,
And not a candle lit;
And you know how the candles blazed,
Night-long, these many years.
REBECCA. She must have burned a fortune out in candles.
BARBARA. And when, at last,
I'd fumbled for the matches,
And struck a light,
It only served to show
The candlesticks burnt empty;
And naught I saw of Grisel,
Before it flickered out,
Although I felt her in the room,
And feared lest I should touch her
In the dark.
And so I ran to fetch my lamp,
And, in its friendly light,
I looked about me with a braver heart
And quickly found her
Stretched before the hearth.
At first I thought her dead,
And shrank from her;
For she was ever cold and proud with all,
And I had never touched her hand before.
And, as I looked on that lean hand outstretched,
I wondered if that hand
Had done the thing --
The thing that gossip told of it,
When first she came to Morton.
It frightened me;
And, as I watched,
I seemed to see the fingers crooking
To clutch a baby's throat;
And yet I could not draw my eyes from them,
Until I realised
That only in my fancy they had stirred.
For still the hand lay, limp and white;
And soon I was myself again,
And pity drove out fear;
And bending down to lift that fallen head
I found that still she breathed.
I loosed her bodice;
Then I fetched my man;
And we together lifted her,
And laid her on the bed --
It took us all our time;
For, though she is so slight,
She was a dead-weight in our hands,
As though we lifted more than one weak body --
As if some dreadful burden bore her down.
REBECCA. God knows what sins are on her!
How dared you touch her, neighbour?
'Twas madness, surely.
BARBARA. I could not leave her lying helpless.
And, maybe, she is innocent.
We know that babes die often,
Though only God knows why.
My firstborn, Robert, died....
REBECCA. The innocent are not afraid of darkness,
Nor waste a heifer's price
On candles in a twelvemonth.
BARBARA. She never stirred,
When we had laid her on the bed;
And nothing I could do would rouse her.
I sent my man to fetch the doctor;
But he can scarcely come
Ere daybreak, even if my man
Should chance to find him in.
'Twere dreadful, should she die,
Before the doctor comes.
REBECCA. If she's to die, she'll die
Whether he comes or not.
It's strange that such as she
Should have an easy end.
BARBARA. O neighbour, you are hard!
What would you have?
REBECCA. A murderer....
BARBARA. Nay, you shall not in this house!
Nothing was known.
REBECCA. But you yourself have said,
These many times....
I heard it from your lips.
BARBARA. Perhaps we have all wronged her.
May she not be as innocent
Of her poor baby's death,
As it....
REBECCA. As it! How can you tell
That even it was innocent?
BARBARA. The babe!
REBECCA. A bastard brat,
You may be sure!
Else, where is her goodman?
A woman's not worth much
Who comes, alone, from God knows where,
To a strange village, and sets up a house,
Where she, within a month, is brought to bed;
And cannot name the father of her child.
BARBARA. Cannot? How do you know?
Has she told aught to you?
REBECCA. To me!
Nay, not a word;
For she was ever close.
But you know well enough,
No man was ever seen to cross her threshold,
By day at all events.
God knows what moths her candles singed!
Had she been all she should be,
What need for secrecy?
Her silence proves her guilt;
And her dead brat....
BARBARA. A babe is still a babe,
Whoever be its father.
REBECCA. Ay ... and yet
She hadn't too much love for it,
To throttle...
BARBARA. Nay, you shall not, neighbour, here!
REBECCA. Why not?
It's common knowledge.
You know, as well as I do,
How all the village whispered,
When it died,
That she had strangled it.
BARBARA. Still, naught was known.
REBECCA. Why, I have heard you speak the thing
Right out with your own lips,
In Farmer Thompson's field,
And Grisel hoeing not ten yards away!
BARBARA. But I was young and thoughtless,
And I've borne children of my own
Since then...
And seen my firstborn die.
Oh, when we're young, we're hard of heart,
Till we ourselves have felt
A baby's fingers clutching at the breast.
REBECCA. Ah, who is hard and cruel now?
You twit me that I'm barren,
And yet, I thank the Lord
That I'm not such as she
Whom you befriend.
Although I brought my man no child,
At least I bore no nameless children.
BARBARA. Forgive my heedless words!
You will not, neighbour?
It's ever careless words that hurt past healing.
The thought of me
Will rankle in your heart,
Because my heart,
That bears no grudge against you,
Let slip an idle word,
Beyond recall.
But you,
Though you have been denied so much,
Have been spared something, too;
You have not stood
Beside your firstborn's grave.
REBECCA. Your patient stirs.
You'd better keep your tenderness for her,
And not waste words on me.
You know the saying:
"Least said, is soonest mended."
[She turns, as if to go.]
BARBARA. Ay, she wakens.
But you're not going now?
REBECCA. Why should I stay?
BARBARA. You would not go and leave me,
Alone with her?
If she should die!
REBECCA. If she's to die, she'll die.
Fear not, she's not the sort
To go before her time.
BARBARA. I dare not bide alone.
REBECCA. You dare not -- you!
Oh, the brave mothers!
Must the barren wife
Lose her night's rest
To tend two shiftless mothers?
For she,
The helpless wanton on the bed,
And you,
Who stand a-tremble by her side,
Are mothers both;
While I --
I'm but a barren woman,
Hard of heart.
BARBARA. I never said so, neighbour.
But go,
I do not need you.
I, who have brought to birth,
Can look on death alone, if need be.
I fear no longer.
Shut the door behind you.
REBECCA. Nay, but I'll stay.
BARBARA. Bide if you will,
But don't come nigh the bed.
REBECCA. Don't fear,
I would not soil my hands.
BARBARA. Your heart is soiled past cleansing.
But it's no time for words.
She'll die while we are wrangling.
She tries to speak.

[GRISEL STARK raises herself on the bed and looks about her.]

GRISEL. Oh!
The great light!
BARBARA. The light?
It's but my lamp.
It hurts your eyes...
GRISEL. Nay, do not move it.
It's not the lamp I mean.
The light is in my heart.
The candles all are quenched;
Yet I fear nothing now.
But where am I?
BARBARA. You're on your bed,
In your own house.
GRISEL. But you --
How do you come here --
You and your lamp?
I never heard the latch.
BARBARA. Nay, you've been ill.
I saw the house in darkness;
And feared that something was amiss.
And so I entered,
To find you stretched, unconscious, by your hearth.
GRISEL. I must have fallen then.
Yes, I've been ill for years;
But I am better now,
And I shall ail no more.
You say the house was dark;
Yet it was full of light --
The light within my heart --
The light that quenched the candles and my fears.
I, who have dwelt in darkness,
Know the light,
As you can never know it.
Since he died,
My little babe,
So many years ago,
My heart has dwelt in darkness.
And though fear ever kindled
Pale candles to dispel the night,
But little they availed;
Nor even noon could drive away
That darkness from my heart --
My heart so choked with bitterness.
Since my babe died...
Nay, neighbour, don't shrink back!
These hands have never done a baby hurt.
I know what's in your mind;
I heard those dreadful whisperings,
In years gone by;
Though then I answered nothing.
But, oh! if you have felt
A newborn baby, cold against the breast,
You'll know I speak the truth.
BARBARA. I know.
GRISEL. Still ... you were right to shrink:
Although my hands are clean.
I killed the babe --
I killed it, in my heart,
Ere it was born.
I poisoned it with hate --
My hate of him who had forsaken me.
Why don't you shrink from me,
Now all is told?
Your eyes are kind;
And I can talk with you
As I have talked with no one.
But, who's that --
There, in the shadow...
Though it matters little;
For I would have the whole world see
The light that floods my heart.
When first I left my home,
To hide my shame from friendly eyes,
And came into this countryside,
And thought to bear the pang
And burden of my misery
More easily, 'mid strangers,
My heart was black against...
But, even now,
Why should I name that name,
Which once was all-in-all to me!
And, that dark month
Before his child was born,
I brooded on my wrongs;
And nursed hate in my bosom,
Until there was no room
For any other care within my heart.
Ah, shut your ears,
If you would hear no more!
For I must tell out all.
Your brow is smooth:
I think you could not hate:
And few have known such hate as mine.
His child,
Within my womb,
Because it was his child --
Ay, even it,
My hatred would not spare,
But ever prayed
That it might never look upon the light,
Nor draw a mortal breath;
Though I myself must perish
To keep the life from it.
My time came;
And I went through all, alone.
Nay, spare your pity, neighbour!
'Twas my will.
I kept you all at bay,
To serve my evil ends.
And little I remember of those days,
Save as a dream of anguish,
Until the morn I woke
To feel a lifeless baby at my breast --
Whose eyes had never looked upon the light --
Whose lips had never drawn a mortal breath --
And knew my prayer was answered,
Though I lived;
For death had passed me by,
And left me to my punishment --
To live...
Knowing myself a murderer in my heart,
Although my hands were clean.
And, since that hour,
The babe has haunted me!
And I have never dared
To be alone with darkness,
A moment, lest those eyes,
Which I denied the light of heaven,
Should burn out from the dark on me.
I strove to keep the night at bay
With flickering candles,
But, in vain,
Because my own breast still was dark.
The night was in my heart,
My stubborn heart,
That could not yet forgive.
But, when I came from work to-day,
I was so spent,
I scarce could lift the latch,
Or cross the threshold-stone;
And could not eat nor sup;
Just having strength to light my candles,
Before I fell asleep,
Beside the hearth.
How long I slept,
I cannot tell.
I wakened with a start,
To find the room in darkness --
The candles all burnt out.
And I was frightened;
For it was long since I had looked
On utter night;
And now,
I seemed to look in my own heart.
I feared to breathe;
And then for the first time
Since I had been forsaken,
The thought of him came to me,
Without a breath of hate;
And pity stole like light into my heart;
And, in a flash,
The room was filled with light.
And, as I wondered whence
The sudden glory sprang,
My little babe
Before me, laughing, stood,
With arms outstretched,
And happy, kindling eyes --
His little body filled with living light.
And, as I stooped...
To snatch him to my breast,
I fell...
And knew no more...
Till, in the night,
I saw you, standing by the bed.
But, nay!
There is no night,
Since I have cast out fear;
And I shall dread the darkness nevermore.
But ... I am weary...
And would sleep...
You need not watch with me;
For I fear nothing now...
I who have come through midnight...
And look ... upon ... the dawn.
The light ... the light!...
My babe ... my newborn babe!

[She sinks back exhausted, moaning.]

BARBARA. She cannot last long now;
The end is nigh.
I fear he'll be too late.
REBECCA. Too late?
What could he do if he were here?
She's far beyond the need of doctors.

[A noise of wheels is heard without; the door opens,
and the breath of morning sweeps through the room.]





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